I'm procrastinating...therefore, I am

writing here when I really should be writing somewhere else. Or rather, I should be writing something else...like the big project I'm working on for work. The one I am getting paid to be working on from home today.

The one that pretty much every single sentence has been a struggle to compose.

The one that pretty much writing every single sentence has been like pulling teeth from a chicken. (I said that to my coworker yesterday, and she laughed hysterically and said she'd never heard that before. My grandma used to say it, and sometimes, it really just fits).

But alas, I'm taking a break and writing here instead. And frankly, procrastinating by writing on my blog is much better than the other way I have been procrastinating over the past few days...writing is also better for my waistline than this:



and this:



I know, shocking that I am procrastinating by cooking. I would rather refer to it as relieving stress because THAT makes it sound like I'm doing a good thing and taking care of myself rather than just being a big loser who doesn't want to do her work. My family eats very well when I am stressed. Hmmmm....maybe that is why they cause me so much stress; they have figured out that when I am stressed, I bake. And make huge pots of spaghetti. And bake. And try new recipes. And bake.

Did I say I bake and cook when I am stressed? In the summer, I often work in the yard when I am stressed, but it's been so hot this summer that pretty much everything is brown and dead, making working in the yard pointless, so baking it is.

I also seem to be procrastinating at getting to what this blog post is actually about. Believe it or not, it's not about Peanut Butter Oatmeal Bread with homemade blueberry preserves or Strawberry & Chocolate Nachos. This post is not even about procrastination to be honest. But anyone who has read this blog the past year (heck, anyone who knows me even if they haven't read my blog!) knows that it sometimes takes me a while to get to the point, right? I guess you also probably know that the original name I had for this blog was Ramblin' Rose. And I guess by now you know the reason for that name. :)

Now, I am ready to get to the point. Aren't you thrilled?

On Saturday morning, I was awake at the crack of dawn, feeling down for lots of reasons, and I wrote a really whiny post on my blog that was not even anything close to "dancing in the rain." Last week, an old friend (old as in a "friend for a long time" not old as in OLD) wrote to me after she read my one year anniversary post and told me that she thinks that sometimes, I should allow myself to write about bad things, and bad days, here. So on Saturday, I tried. I really and truly did. It was a rainy morning, (which perfectly suited my mood), I was cozy on the couch, everyone in my family was either gone or still asleep, and I wrote a long venting post about several things that are not good in my life. I also briefly mentioned a friend I'm upset with and feeling hurt by, and even though that friend doesn't read my blog, I felt a bit yuckky about doing that. So, a few hours later, I came back and deleted my post. Sorry, Kellie...I did try to take your advice, but in the end, I just couldn't do it.

Last week, I decided to go back and read through some of the posts I'd written in the past year. And I had what you might call an "epiphany moment." Really, more like an epiphany hour or so, because that is how long I sat here reading my old stuff when I had a million other things I should have been doing instead.

I felt pretty proud of myself as I read. I don't often give myself pats on the back, but reading about all of the things I have done over the past year to try to keep a positive attitude really made me feel all warm and cozy. I did what I set out to do. Did I do it every single day? No, I didn't. Did I have days that sucked, days that I wouldn't even let myself try to find something good because I was too pissed off? Yes, I did. And I often felt guilty about both of those things over the past year.

But, as I read, I realized that I did it enough. I didn't fall apart like I really wanted to do. A year later, I am still standing. Standing on shaky legs at times I will admit. And my kids are too.

That was my biggest fear at this time last year...what is this turmoil going to do to my kids? Well, they are doing great. I think they have learned a lot of important life lessons in the past couple of years. I have thought that often, but that point was made really clear to me last night. Justin worked late, and when he got home, he asked me if I would type an essay for him because he had other homework to do as well. I type fast, and he knew that something that would take me 15 minutes to type would take him over an hour. I told him that I would, only because I know how hard he is trying to do well in school while working and running cross country. I am so glad I did. I won't type the entire essay here, but this is the last part: "It has taught me that even if I'm not happy with my life, there is always someone with less than what I have. I should always appreciate what I have." (And the essay had nothing to do with our family).

Wow, I thought I was going to cry when I got to that part. Oh wait, I did cry. Well, I didn't really "cry" cry...but I felt my eyes welling up with tears, and that's when I knew for sure that my plan from last summer had worked for the most part. Justin can be a mouthy, unpleasant 17 year old boy on too many occasions, but when I read that, my heart swelled with love and pride.

Another thing that hit me like a ton of bricks as I read my old posts had more of an impact on me than realizing that I had done a pretty good job this past year of holding things together. There are several posts (quite a few actually) where I mentioned I had a bad/terrible/horrible/very bad day, but I didn't write why. I just wrote that I'd had a bad day and then moved on to whatever I had done to make the best of a crummy day. The shocking thing that I realized was that as I read most of those posts, I didn't even remember what had caused me to write that I had a terrible day. On a few of those days, I do vividly remember, because they were big things. But most of them...I sat in front of my computer trying my hardest to remember what was so bad, and I couldn't. I know that at the time, it must have seemed like a huge big deal, but a year later...if I couldn't even remember what had happened, how big huge of a deal could it really have been?

Maybe that is why I deleted my post the other day. Maybe I subconciously realized that none of what I wrote about on a rainy Saturday morning when I was feeling down in the dumps really matters in the grand scheme of things. Maybe seeing the things I was whining about in print made me realize that I really should save my mental energies for things and issues that might still be important a year from now.

Like now...when I realize that if I don't work on what I'm supposed to be working on, I may not have a job a year from now. :-)

One last thing I have to share. Yesterday, we had a going away party for a coworker who is moving. We are all going to miss her terribly as she has been a huge part of Share for years, even before she was hired to work there. We had a wonderful, fun party and served St. Louis food...toasted ravioli, Imo's pizza, The Pasta House salad, Ted Drewe's frozen custard and gooey butter cake. We also made this for her:



as a going away gift. Each of the letters is from a sign from somewhere significant to Deb. The H is from our Share sign, the O is from a St. Louis Bread Company sign, the P is from the sign in front of their church, and the E is from the Dierbergs sign since Dierbergs is her favorite grocery store. She loved it. Hope was the perfect word...she always talked about how much Share gave her hope after her son died...she was a part of Share and giving other people hope...her beloved family dog that died a year ago was named Hope...all of her kids go or have gone to Hope College in Michigan...and Hope College is where she and her husband met. So there were lots of tears yesterday at the Share office.

Just as she was getting ready to leave, she handed each of us a gift bag. Inside the bag was a framed picture of a bright blue sky with white puffy clouds and this quote:

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.
Yeah, let that soak in for a moment.

Like there weren't already enough tears at the Share office yesterday.

No one at work knows I write a blog. I have never told anyone at work about my dancing in the rain project, or about that quote. But I sure felt some goosebumps as we all unwrapped our gift.

And I lied. I have one more "one last thing" to share. Over the past few days, thinking of my whiny post on Saturday, I've done a lot of thinking about other things, that are good in my life. I thought of those things again last night after I typed Justin's essay for him. I know I said a long time ago that each time I write here, I am going to write something I am grateful for. I think I did that maybe, oh, twice? It seems that me saying I am going to do something is a sure sign that I won't. But I'd like to change that!

Here is my grateful thought for today.
The first one...I am looking forward to spending a fun afternoon with Rachel at the St. Louis YMCA book fair after she gets home from school. Some may remember my post about that last year...when I went on half price day and came home with a huge stack of books that I spent a whopping $9 on. Today is again half price day, and I thought it would be fun to take Rachel as she loves to read, too. I will post photos tomorrow of the awesome deals we got! We will be dancing in books! Tables and tables of books.

And NOW, I really must get back to my work. Or I'll be dancing in the wrath of my boss that will be raining down upon me.

Time Flies

One year ago yesterday, I began writing this blog. Well, technically, I began writing it a little over 2 years ago, but back then, I only wrote a few posts and quickly gave up on it. One year ago yesterday was when I found myself in a low frame of mind that I was trying desperately to find a way to pull myself out of. Tony had just lost his job two weeks before, for the second time in less than two years, and I really didn’t think I was going to make it through another job loss, especially if it lasted as long as the first one had. I felt sorry for myself, and I felt worse for Tony. Most of all, I felt terrible for the kids, that once again, life was going to be put “on hold” while Tony was unemployed. I hit upon the idea of dancing in the rain after I saw a quote several times that said “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” That sounded perfect for me. I didn’t want to mope around waiting for things to get better, I wanted to be grateful for, and focus on, all of the things I did have instead of being depressed about what I didn’t have. I wanted to make the best of things, no matter how much life sucked right then. And suck it did, but I got right to my task of dancing in the rain.

The first thing I did was share this blog with a few friends. I know how terrible I am at starting things that fizzle out before I finish them, so I thought that having some accountability…having friends who I knew were reading my blog, would keep me on task. And it did. One person in particular used to write to me if I had gone too long without writing something. Sometimes, all she would write is “waiting…..”

Not only did the idea for my blog keep me on task with writing, but it kept me on task in my mind as well. On really bad days, and there have been many, I often found myself thinking, “How can I dance in the rain today?” And I am proud to say I have found many ways. Unfortunately for my girlish figure, many of them have involved cooking, and of course, eating what I have cooked. It’s a very good thing I have a house full of hungry teenagers who are more than willing to eat whatever I make and leave very little, although still too much, for me.

In the past year, I have danced in the rain in lots of different ways.

I have:

*taken up a new hobby…bread making. And if I do say so myself, I’ve gotten quite good at it. I don’t see how anyone can be in a bad mood while making bread. There is just nothing better than pounding your fists into a pile of warm sticky dough when you would rather be pounding your fists into something else. Like someone’s face. (Pretend I didn’t just say that). Or eating bread. Anyone who can be in a crappy mood while stuffing fresh baked bread in their mouth has a problem.(Weighing yourself after eating fresh homemade bread is a different story though. That doesn’t make me happy). But oh, filling my house with the aroma of homemade bread once or twice a week makes me very happy indeed.

*played more games with the kids. I discovered on one particularly bad day, when all I really wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull my Aunt Mary’s quilt over my head that beating your kid at game after game of Yahtzee on a blizzard winter day is quite satisfying indeed. And quite the mood lifter.

*enjoyed the actual process of so many things that normally I plow through without really thinking about it. Like cooking dinner. I have always enjoyed chopping things and making a mess in the kitchen, but I took that enjoyment to a new level. I made myself pay attention to things like the crunch of carrots as I chopped them and the blue-stained fingernails after I made my first ever blueberry preserves. The highlight of some of my days were moments when my kids were ecstatic over what I had cooked…like the day Lauren ran in the house, threw her arms around my neck and told me I was the best mommy ever simply because I made an apple pie. At times, I tried to even enjoy the process of doing laundry…burying my face in a warm-from-the-dryer-bounce-smelling towel or sheet.

*tried to find something to enjoy out of things I normally hate. Like building a snowman with Rachel when I despise playing in the snow. Or noticing the way the ice sparkled in the trees many times during our long, horrible winter. I even went out into the yard at 5 am on Christmas morning because I was in awe of the way the colorful lights strung through the bushes looked all covered with inches of snow.

*taken pictures of lots of silly little details and things that normally I wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to. Like a new cupcake recipe I tried or the mess in my hallway that made me stop and think how someday, I will miss having a houseful of kids around to make messes that make me want to throw their messes at them.

*been more aware of my surroundings and noticed little things I may not have noticed before. Like the day I took the dog on a walk because I was so angry I needed to get out of the house before I had a complete meltdown, and on the walk, I noticed a beautiful yellow bird in a bush by the sidewalk.

*paid more attention to the sunrise out my kitchen window. It has become such a habit, that I look for it every day now if I am awake. And I usually am. Usually, well before the sun rises. One perk of menopause…being awake early enough to watch the sunrise every morning.

I am probably starting to sound annoyingly like Pollyanna, huh?

Well, I will remedy THAT by saying that the past year has been far from rainbows and fields of daisies. FAR from it. In fact, most of the days I have written on this blog have been days that were so awful that I had already spent time at my computer writing in my journal with tears streaming down my face. I made it a rule on one such day that the only way I would allow myself to indulge in in a pity party is if I then wrote something upbeat on my blog. I did break that rule a few times, I will shamefully admit. However, I think I rose to the challenge pretty well and managed to keep the extra-bad stuff to myself.

So here I am, one year and one day later. As a gift to myself, I am going to have this blog made into a book. In many ways, this has been one of the toughest years of my life, at least in the top 3, but for the most part, I feel pretty good about how I have come through it all. While Tony does have a good job right now, things are still far from easy, and in some ways, my life is in even more turmoil than it was a year ago. And my worrisome self does worry what I will be writing about here a year from now.

One thing is certain though. I am kind of addicted to blog writing, and I will be writing here a year from now. A sincere thank you to anyone who read and encouraged me over the past year.

This and that and the other thing....

This past weekend was the kind of weekend that makes me wish summer would never end. Seriously. I could go from summer to fall then right back to summer and skip over all the nastiness winter brings. I love summer. I do sometimes complain and whine incessantly when we have days piled upon more days of 100 degree heat and high humidity that leaves me feeling like a damp smelly dishcloth by the end of the day, but even on THOSE days, I still love summer. There are so many things I love about this season besides the sun and the warmth. Most of it revolves around food.

I love fresh sweet corn:



And juicy sweet watermelon. Oh my, I eat so much watermelon at times that I am too full to eat real food. Good thing that watermelon has zero calories. Although it's not so good when you can't stop eating it before you go to bed at night. I'll stop with that.




Probably my very favorite thing in the whole world to eat is tomatoes. Well, HOMEGROWN tomatoes. I love tomatoes, but I only eat them in the summer. I cannot stand the tomatoes that you buy in the grocery store in January...those pink things that juice doesn't even squirt out of when you cut into them. And then if you are brave enough to eat them, they are usually sour and slightly crunchy. Shudder. I could write a ridiculously long post just about tomatoes. I will save that for another day. But, here is a picture of a reason why I love homegrown summer tomatoes. I love BLT sandwiches. And this is my version of the BLT...a BAT. Bacon, avocado and tomato. On toast. With ranch dressing, salt and a shake of red pepper. YUM. And I only eat these in the summer.



Enough about food. I'm making myself hungry.

Besides food, my other favorite thing about summer is sitting on my front porch in my rocking chair, my feet propped up on the railing, reading. My favorite time of day to sit out there is early in the morning drinking coffee. I love it when it is early and quiet and the birds are singing. I am always sad to give up my porch mornings when it gets cold late in the fall. A couple of weeks ago, I was treated to this:


You can't really tell from the picture, but that was a tiny little baby bunny. I couldn't believe I was able to get so close. I thought for sure I would scare it off when I opened the front door to grab my camera, but it just sat there happily munching away on the patch of clover that we have been unable to get rid of in our yard. I'm sure the neighbors wonder what is up with my yard...if anyone says anything, I'll just say I am providing food for the rabbits.

I am writing this in the midst of a heat wave. For the third day in a row, the heat index is over 110. And wow, it is HOT. But I still love summer, and I'll take it any day over this:

When I am an Old Lady, I will Wear...I Mean Paint a Chair...Purple

I don’t know what has come over me this spring. I am normally a very conservative, white-shirt-khaki-pants-wearing kind of gal. I do like color, and have painted rooms in my house in shades of color beyond tan and white. But, I am still very traditional.

But…this spring, I have painted my Cracker Barrel rocking chairs apple green and added black and white polka dot cushions. They started out looking like this:



After a coat of primer, they looked like this:



And, tada! This is what they look like now! I LOVE them...every time I drive up to my house and see them, they make me smile.



I found this cute little mosaic table


and this fun, colorful mat


at Target.




And then, I took on my biggest make over…my rusted, ugly 16 year old fake wrought iron deck furniture. I know you can't see rust in this picture, but trust me, it's there! This furniture was once hunter green, and before it underwent it's much-needed makeover, it was somewhere between faded green and rust brown. I was ready to throw it away, but I decided to paint it instead. It looked like this last weekend:



After many coats of spray paint and a sore arm/hand/wrist, Lauren Tony and I painted it all




A few years ago, we bought a gazebo for our deck, and I loved it. It not only shaded our deck, but it helped keep the kitchen a bit cooler too. The next summer, the top was blown off in a storm and ripped to shreds where the Velcro attached it to the metal frame. Tony saved the metal frame for some reason…and just last week, he was at Target and found a replacement top. So, we put it back together, and after adding some plants, our deck now looks like this: (click on the pictures to make them bigger so you can it all better!)






I LOVE it. I love the colorful chairs. I love the cushions (that were only $16 each at Gordman’s!). I was worried that the kids and Tony would hate it, but they love it, too. The kids keep telling their friends to go out on the deck and look at our awesome table and chairs.

I know the plants look pretty darn wimpy right now, but I just planted them today. I used Miracle Gro potting soil, like I do every summer, so I am sure that within a week or two, the pots will be overflowing with flowers. My pictures aren’t that great, but I planted white impatiens, purple New Guinea impatiens, burgundy star wave petunias and sweet potato vine.





I really love how everything turned out, and I can’t wait to spend lots of time on the deck having coffee in the morning and dinner in the evening. Although that won’t be happening tonight because it’s about 180 degrees outside.

The only thing I still want to do is find some tiny white lights to put on the inside of the awning. Oh, and a few citronella candles to ward off the mosquitos!

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June. ~Al Bernstein

June is my very favorite month of the whole year. It may have started when I was a kid since my birthday is in June. I don’t give a hoot about my birthday these days, but I still love June. June is typically that really wonderful time when spring is patiently waiting for summer to arrive. Typically in June, it’s not terribly hot, or if it is hot, the smothering humidity has not yet arrived, which can make for some very pleasant days. June is the month that my kids are finished with school. When they were young, I think I looked forward to and celebrated the last day of school as much as they did. I so anticipated one lazy day stretching into another lazy day…an endless stream of days of sleeping in, swimming lessons, going to the park, eating popsicles, blowing bubbles and drawing masterpieces and hopscotch on the driveway with sidewalk chalk.

Well, those days are LONG gone…although the kids have definitely taken sleeping in to a whole new level. While I used to be thrilled if they slept until 8 am on a summer day, now, I now text them from work repeatedly at noon to tell them to haul their lazy butts out of bed. And long gone are the lazy days of swimming and going to the park since I work now. Those days have been replaced with days of me coming home from work to discover bowls with congealed cereal, half empty water bottles, empty apple sauce jars, granola bar wrappers and empty chip bags scattered all over my kitchen and family room along with wet towels and tshirts and more empty water bottles strewn around the back yard. And the pantry is usually empty of all food that was purchased just the day before. While my kids are lounging on the couch in a zombie-like state brought on by eating so much food all day.

But all that aside, I still love June, and I still look forward to the kids being out of school The grass in my yard is still green in June, and it is weeks away from turning brown and crunchy. In June, I rarely have to turn on the sprinkler. Our pool is newly opened. Flowers are freshly planted. The whirring sound of lawn mowers and the smell of freshly cut grass fills the fresh air most evenings. In June, even though it may be hot during the day, by night time, the temperature often drops to a cool, comfortable temperature, enticing me to head to my front porch with a glass of wine and a book. At the beginning of June, the warm summer days seem endless. It is hard for me to imagine or remember the ice and chill of winter. At the beginning of June, I try not to think about the hot and steamy days of July and August that I know are coming.

In June, I buy fresh strawberries from produce stands almost daily and eat them sliced on peanut butter toast for breakfast, chopped on top of salads for lunch, and covering ice cream for late night dessert. Sometimes in June, I even go pick my own strawberries, and if I’m really feeling ambitious, I make jars of strawberry preserves, stacking them in the freezer, knowing that those jars of sugary red yumminess will fulfill my need for summer strawberries throughout the winter.

It’s June now. Today for the first time this summer, I wore my favorite white skirt to work. I am sitting here at my desk listening to the sound of the 13 year cicadas that have recently hatched and thinking once again how much I love June. I have flats of purple and white and yellow flowers on my front porch waiting to be planted. And, I have 28 more glorious days to enjoy my favorite month.

By the Sea, My Shoes are Lost, My Heart is Free

I read that quote on a cute little sign in a cute little shop on St. Armand's Circle in Sarasota. And how true that is for me.

I haven't been to Florida in nearly 5 years, and while I knew that I missed our yearly trips, I didn't realize just how much until I had my first gliimpse of the Gulf of Mexico's beautiful aquamarine waters when Jean was driving me to her house after picking me up. When we got in her car in the airport parking garage, she asked if I minded the windows down, or if I wanted the AC on. Of course I wanted the windows down! My sun-starved skin had been craving that warm, salty Florida air for way too long! So as we sped down the highway in Jean's little red Nissan, all four windows down, our hair whipping around our faces, I put my head back, closed my eyes, and mentally said, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."




And with that first sight of the Gulf, my heart, my very soul, did indeed feel free.

Later that evening as we walked along the beach, listening to the sound of the waves gently lapping the shore, the sounds of happy children playing in the sand, again my soul did indeed feel free. Just as the bluegreen sunset-tinged waters of the Gulf washed away the prints my bare feet left on the shore, they also, for a time anyway, washed away all my cares and worries. I knew they would return eventually, but for the time I was there, I took a break from them. I discovered that it is downright hard, maybe even impossible, to worry and fret when you are at the beach. There should be a sign at the entrance: Drop your worries here. Maybe that is why at times I fantasize about running away, living in a cute little beach cottage, tooling around on a pink Vespa scooter and getting a job serving fruity drinks in an open air bar with a grassy roof on the beach.

So, back to that quote. I went four whole days without wearing shoes. Well, I did wear flip flops, but those don't count. When I was getting ready to leave Thursday morning, I started to put on my running shoes. But, as soon as I put on the first sock, my mind screamed at me, "NOOOO!!!" I decided to not wear shoes, or take any. It was freezing cold when I left at dawn, but I left in flip flops. I cranked up the heat in my van on the drive to the airport, dreaming of my cold toes soon being buried in white, powdery, and most of all WARM sand. Later that day, they were, and it was heavenly.




I know I am skipping around here from topic to topic, but onto the next thing.

I always enjoyed Jean so much when she spent summers with us as a kid, and it was so wonderful to spend time with her as an adult. I think it was the highlight of the trip. We truly had so much fun. It was fun and kind of strange, too, to "drink" with her. The first thing we did after arriving at Clearwater Beach for some sunset watching was head to Crabby Bills for a drink...margarita for me, pina colada for her.


Well, technically, that was the second thing we did...the first thing was taking off our flip flops! Jean had a silly, fun personality as a kid, and she still does. So many carefree kids lose that as an adult, and it made me smile to see that Jean hasn't. I hope that my kids don't either.


We not only went to the beach, but we shopped and tried on crazy jewelry




and hats




and ate 5000 calorie ice cream sundaes as if we had not a care in the world. Actually, they weren't 5000 calories, they were "only" 800 calories. I know this because I asked. The guy behind the Ben and Jerry's counter thought I was crazy and asked me if I REALLY wanted to know. I laughed and assured him that I did. Only at the beach would I ask how many calories my sundae contained...and only at the beach would I laugh and not care.




Next topic...

In the midst of all the relaxing, carefree moments, there were a few tinged with sadness. On that first night spent walking along Clearwater Beach, I couldn't help but notice all of the families with their children happily playing in the sand and screeching as waves knocked them off their feet. I remembered how much we always loved taking the kids to the beach each year, how much they loved being there, how easily we forgot life back home while we enjoyed our vacation. And I realized how very much I miss those days. Just to torture myself, I spent some time this morning looking through the scrapbook I started years ago with pictures from all of our vacations. I'm going to post a few even though they aren't that great. I don't have a scanner, so they are pictures of pictures.

This first one is the first picture I took of the kids the very first time we took them to Florida. The kids were 7, 4, 3 and 9 months. Everyone thought we'd lost our minds, but we had so much fun, and even Lauren getting sick and throwing up all over the place in the van on the way home, in the middle of the night in Nowhereville Kentucky didn't make us regret having taken that trip.




The next pictures are of the kids at our hotel in Clearwater. I love the one of Rachel shoveling sand into her mouth with her fist. That was the battle of the week...keeping Rachel from eating the sand. Every time she pooped, it was gritty with sand. I also remember that trip for another very special reason...she started sleeping all night for the first time. She was 9 months old, and I was more than ready for that. I guess the sea air was good for her, too.





The next spring, we ended up in Sarasota at the Helmsley Sandcastle hotel. We absolutely loved it and went there 4 years in a row. We swore we would return every year. We even dreamed of still going there when our kids were adults and have their own kids. But alas, life has gotten in the way, and we haven't been there for a very long time. On Saturday, Jean and I drove to Sarasota and after browsing the shops on St. Armand's Circle, we decided to walk down the beach to the Sandcastle. Jean also had fond memories as she had been there with us one spring. It was a long walk, probably a mile from the public beach where we started out, but since we had just eaten our 800 calorie sundaes at Ben and Jerry's, we were up for it.

So much has changed along that stretch of beach since I had been there last, and I was afraid that the Sandcastle had also changed. I didn't even want to think about that. I always have thought of it as such a charming little hotel in the midst of high rise impersonal hotels. But, it hasn't changed at all. It was just how I remembered it. We walked through the pool area to the bathroom so I could put on more sunscreen. We went into the shop, and I remembered the time I saw my first ever palmetto bug on the floor and let out a scream that was probably heard in Key West while the cashier scooped it up and assured me that a 10 inch cockroach was harmless. We went into the poolside restaurant to buy cups of iced tea and lemonade, and I am almost 100% sure that the waitress was the same one from all those years ago. I took a few pictures (not of the waitress!) as I fought back the nostalgic tears, and we headed back down the beach.





I took this final picture as I said, "Goodbye beautiful beach, I hope we meet again soon."



This morning when I was flipping through my scrapbook, I noticed a caption I had written next to a picture taken of the kids on the beach at the Sandcastle in April 2000..."Ahhh, how good it feels to wiggle our bare toes in the warm sand! Heaven!" Even back then I knew the special healing properties of powdery white sand.

Another scrapbook page proclaims this:



Yes, sunny rays definately DO make happy days.

The Purse that Liked to Eat Bracelets and Other Sparkly Things

You know how you put socks in the washer, and by the time the laundry comes out of the dryer, there are always missing socks, even though you KNEW you had put matching socks in, and you can’t figure out for the life of you where they end up? Well, I have the purse version of the proverbial sock-eating washing machine, only my purse liked to eat bracelets, beads, and even a breath mint or two. Things kept going in that never came out. When I find a purse I like, I usually carry it for a good long time. However, this purse’s eating habits nearly caused its early demise because I was ready to throw it way after various items kept disappearing from it.

A few months ago, I bought this adorable bright pink purse:


It was cheap, no Coach or Dooney and Burke, or any other expensive thing. It was $12 at TJMaxx. But I love it. Lately though, I started calling it as my cute Black Hole Purse. I have put numerous things in it that just went “poof” and disappeared. The first time it happened, I thought I was just scatterbrained and put the item somewhere else. The second time it happened, I did seriously think, WTH is wrong with this purse? The 3rd time…well, I was becoming slightly worried about my sanity. By the 4th time, I emptied it out and was going to throw it away or burn it. I am not a superstitious person at all, but the way things kept disappearing from this purse was starting to freak me out a bit.

A couple of months ago, actually, just a few days after I bought the purse, I made one of the Angel Ball bracelets to take to work to be photographed. A few days later, I went to get it out of my purse when I was ready to make the rest of them, and it was gone. I was puzzled because I knew I had put it in the zippered pocket on the inside of the purse. When I couldn’t find it, I assumed I had simply misplaced it. I went on my merry way and made the rest of the bracelets and forgot about the missing one.

Then, about a month ago, I made a bracelet for my cousin who recently found out she has cancer. I put it in my purse along with a card for her when I was leaving for work because I planned on stopping at the post office to mail it later that afternoon. Well, time got away from me, I left work late, and forgot about it. A couple of days later, when I finally had time to go to the post office, I couldn’t find it. The card was still there, but the bracelet was not. This time, I emptied my purse out and was so irritated with myself for losing another bracelet as this one had about $40 worth of beads on it. I went to look in my car, thinking that maybe my purse had tipped over and the bracelet had fallen out. I looked in the bead boxes I’d been working out of lately, wondering if I had mistakenly put it away. I looked through my own jewelry. The bracelet was no where to be found. I bought more beads and made another bracelet, immediately put it in an organza draw string bag, put it in my purse, and finally got it in the mail a few days later.

A couple of weeks ago, I planned a bracelet making party with the moms in our support group. I made a bracelet and took it to work to see if my boss liked what I had created. You guessed it, eventually that bracelet disappeared as well. This time, I was left scratching my head and wondering just what in the heck was going on. I again looked in my car, bead boxes, my own jewelry, the bag from the bead store that had all the beads still in it, and no bracelet. I came up with all sorts of theories…the dog ate it…my husband was trying to drive me insane...someone was stealing them (who, I had no idea!) I decided nothing else of any importance was going into the pocket of that purse.

Then came the straw that broke the camels back.

Thursday at work, I was looking for a receipt that I needed to turn in so I could be reimbursed for something I had purchased. At the bottom of my purse, I found some loose crystals from a strand that had broken. I put them in the zippered pocket of my purse along with a pair of nail clippers. For good measure, I zipped the pocket so the beads would have the chance to fall out. Yesterday morning, I went to get the nail clippers from my purse. I unzipped the pocket, and the only thing in it were two tiny beads when I put at least 20 in there just the day before. This time, I was pissed! I turned my purse upside down, dumped everything on the counter, and decided I was going to start a fire in our fire put and gleefully watch my evil purse turn into a pile of bright pink ashes. When the contents of my purse were scattered across the kitchen island, I flopped it down on the counter in disgust. And heard slight “thunk.” The purse is soft, no hard bottom. Thinking that not only was my purse eating things in order to make me crazy, it was ensuring I did go crazy by now making me hear things. I plopped it on the counter again, and there was definitely something in the bottom of the purse. I pulled the fabric lining from the inside and began examining it for a hole, but there was none. It was obvious to me by this point that something was in the bottom of my purse between the lining and the leather part. Finally, I looked at the lining of the zippered pocket and I found a tiny little hole, less than half the size of the tip of my pinky finger. I ripped it wide open, stuck my hand through the hole and found this:




Mystery solved. It wasn’t an evil purse that likes to eat bling after all…just a cheap one with a tiny hole in the lining of the pocket. Maybe I should buy expensive purses from now on. I’ll be poorer, but at least I won’t wonder anymore if my purse is possessed by a bracelet-eating spirit who is trying to drive me insane.