Thankful

I'm off work today, getting ready for tomorrow's festivities. Yesterday, I did a lot of prep work that was easy to slide in between work commitments. Those mundane chores like general cleaning, washing all the plates and flatware. Hauling out some temporary tables, finding the tablecloths, gravy boats, and my "I could have been a professional caterer" warming trays.

Today I am tackling the kitchen and cooking.

I've hosted Thanksgiving here for the last 5 years or so, really only because no one else wants to do it. lol.

I've learned the hard way that planning a "simple" Thanksgiving is far more complicated. And time consuming.

The up-side is my Dad gets to do the serious cooking. He's the turkey, gravy, and stuffing man. His recipes are top-secret. Hands down the BEST turkey and sausage stuffing I've ever had in my life. He loves to cook, and arrives at my door with perfectly cooked and arranged food ready to dig in.

I handle a majority of the sides. This year I am ripping off a few recipes from my cyber blogging buddies. My mashed potatoes and creamed spinach from Ree, and my string beans from Natalie.
It's good to have friends that share their culinary secrets!

Dessert is often the omigawd!! moment after we are all stuffed with turkey and 6 or so sides. Everyone who attends wants to bring dessert, so we often end up with completely uneaten desserts. And then everyone leaves them with me. Such a bad idea. So this year the rule is... if you bring it, and there's extra, YOU take it home.

I can't eat start eating like a pig now, I'll never make it to Christmas.

Every year, S. complains that he gets stuck with the worst jobs pre- and post-Turkey Day. Yes, my man is the anchor of the holiday. After everything is "just so" to my liking he cleans the bathrooms and floors. Then he gets the clean-up duty after we are all stuffed to the gills.

That's why I love him so!

After the leftovers are refrigerated, we have a pretty packed weekend of fun planned. On Sunday, we are driving into Pennsylvania with my brother, SIL, and his kids to take a ride on The Polar Express! Ok, not the real one, but it looks like a lot of fun. Food, hot chocolate, Santa, and an hour or two steam train ride.

I told David that he only gets hot chocolate if he catches it in mid-air from one of the stewards (if you haven't seen the movie, this won't make sense). The funny thing about dealing with a five year-old... he thinks I am telling the truth. hehe.

Hopefully, I will have lots of stories to blog about.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I get to celebrate the holiday with my family. And instead of focusing on what I don't have, I am focusing on what's in the here and now.

Food, family, and a warm home.

Wishing you and yours equal blessings for a wonderful holiday weekend.

Be Thankful

Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire,
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?

Be thankful when you don't know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.

Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.

Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.

Be thankful when you're tired and weary
Because it means you've made a difference.

It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
also thankful for the setbacks.

GRATITUDE can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles
and they can become your blessings.

~ Author Unknown ~

No place for wimps!

You know the images each year of the brides lining up at Filene's in Boston, MA for a chance at clinching that bargain-basement price for a wedding gown?

Well, we have a version of that here in the suburbs of New Jersey, and it's called a Holiday Craft Show. And it's not a place for wimps.

For those of you not familiar with this type of event, it's usually held at a church or school, and it's a mass of craft vendors (selling jewelry, home furnishings, gifts and such). There is one in my area that is extremely well known. People line up in the freezing cold waiting for the doors to open at 9am.

The serious women bring their own shopping bags for the loot, stand in sub-zero temps with no coat on (because once you are inside it's hotter than Hades), and wear those god-awful fanny packs for easy access to money.

About ten years ago, I was one of those women (minus the fanny pack... ugh, that's a travesty to a handbag queen!). These days I frequent them less and less. Usually just buying a couple trinkets for Christmas gifts.

I took my Mom this year, and I guess we are off our game because by the time we pulled in the parking lot, the spots were mostly full (it was only 9:05am). And, as we walked into the school gymnasium, some of the vendors had people standing in front of tables ten people deep.

Really!

All for a custom-made wreath or a personalized holiday ornament.

I had forgotten the rule "pick up an item when you see it, or it's gone". I lost out on a cute ornament to a 70'ish lady who body-slammed me to get the last sparkly snowman.

Holiday cheer anyone?

We passed one vendor (who we LOVE- she hand paints crafts with amazing detail), and she had THREE items left in her stall. It was 9:20am. She sold out in 20 minutes.

I did pick up a beautiful candy cane ornament. And I did find a sparkly snowman (different, but just as adorable).

As we walked out, a mass of men huddled in the parking lot. Holding their cell phones and laughing, "we're just here to carry out bags to the car".

aaaaahhhhh... the shopping season has officially begun.

Apparently the world economic down-turn doesn't apply to craft shows.

Soccer Star

So I was feeling creative yesterday, and put together a little movie.

You know what's almost as fun as dragging your nails across a chalkboard?

Watching 4/5 year olds play soccer. Don't believe me? See for yourself...

One is the loneliest number

I hesitate to write this post, if not for anything to appear depressed, because I don't think that I am (Ben & Jerry might disagree with my personal assessment, but that's another post.)

I am however, in a place that is foreign to me in many ways.

I can't quite think about when this occurred, except to say looking back, I've noticed that loneliness has been a frequent friend of mine. Maybe for the last year or so, but certainly the last few months.

I feel... disconnected.... at times. The days go by so fast, and I feel like just an afterthought in them. Oddly, my relationship with S and David seems unaffected. In fact, when they are gone (S at work , D at school), I miss them so, so much. All I can focus on is their return, and the nights and weekends we share with just the three of us.

But on the outside, in the company of family, co-workers, friends, neighbors... I feel so lonely. I find myself disconnecting and not able to reach out. To those who know me IRL, this statement would seem out of character for me. In fact, I think if you would ask anyone, they may not even be aware of my precarious state of mind.

My irrational self has always wondered if I stop reaching out, will people stop reaching out to me? And the answer in my head over the last six months has been a resounding YES. This terrifies me, and at the same time I feel strangely indifferent about the whole thing.

Can I blame the events over the last 4 years? Well, sure. Infertility, and each attempt and loss has had a profound effect. I've posted many times on this subject, and I hate to appear like a whining child, but YES, it has destroyed many things in my life. Confidence and Faith most prominently. And it has changed my view of others and their response to me.

How odd it is... having always been "the mother figure" (especially to friends), that I am in this place where I am on the flip side? Needing nurturing myself.

But my response to my intense need is to withdraw, and with that appearing unavailable to those I love. Wounded, but soldiering on. Sometimes being mischaracterized as not caring. Angry that those closest to me don't see it and judge me for the wrong reasons.

So as I have drawn inward, and have spoken less and less about my treatment and failure I now find that I can hardly remember what Shelli was four years ago. I am permanently changed. And on the days I long to reach out to anyone who will hear me and listen, I sit afraid. Afraid because I feel I have no one who won't judge me. Lonely. Wishing for someone to reach out and say.. "I'm here, I'm listening." instead of my having to be the sad puppy looking to be stroked.

Aside from this aspect of loneliness, something else is bothering me beyond measure. David has been becoming more and more vocal on the subject of wanting a sibling. So much so that he almost demands adequate explanation. While it is inappropriate to tell him the "whole truth" I long to grab him and hold him and cry on his shoulder... "me too..."

I don't want him to be an only child. If we remain a family of three life will be just fine, I know that. But imagining a family of four or five is the reason I've endured this long.

The problem is, if I get there (or if I don't), what is to become of me? If I stay in my shell, do I risk losing everyone? Or will some be kind and understand that my present and future requires healing to get back to the way I used to be?

I wish I knew.

When Catholic school backfires...

Overheard in the living room Saturday night:

David (as he sits in the recliner): "Daddy can you get those two green trucks on the floor for me?"

Daddy (sitting on the other chair reading a magazine): "You have two feet."

David: "GOD made hands to help other people... Daddy."

PopPop

This is a photo of my Grandfather. I inherited this photo from my Grandmother after she died. It doesn't have a date on it, but my Mom and I suspect that it probably dates to around 1942. He was in the Navy at the time, during WWII, while my Grandmother was home with my newly born Aunt.

My Grandfather was a cook on a Navy ship. Which seems insane considering that was the ONLY place he ever cooked in his life. At home, after the war, he did not even boil water. He left all the cooking up to my Grandmother. In fact, he seemed not to like food very much. When we lived with my grandparents for a short time in the 70's we learned that each day of the week signified a certain entree, and that menu never varied. So if you weren't up for creamed corned-beef on Saturdays, you were out of luck.

You can't see it in this photo, but he was a red-head. First generation Irishman pursuing the American Dream. When the war was over he was a butcher, and in later years he started a construction company with my Dad. They specialized in septics at first, because, as my Grandfather would say, "Everyone has to eat, and everyone has to sh!t."

Yes, a simple man indeed.

This photo is how I remember my PopPop. This picture of him and Gram was from the mid 70's, and hung on Gram's wall for 25 years. Nothing had changed much back then. The business was bigger, but he still ate hot dogs on Fridays. As a kid, I remember fondly riding along with him on errands in his beige pickup truck. It had a "pleather" bench seat, and he would drive down our street and make sharp turns which made me slide back and forth across the seat. I would giggle with wild abandon, pretending I was on a carnival ride.

PopPop was fun, and how he loved being a grandfather.

And then, suddenly in the middle of the night on a cold December evening in 1976, he had a massive heart attack. He died alone watching the 11pm news on TV. He was 61.

I was 8 years old at the time, but I remember the sadness on my Mom and Gram's faces for months. Things like that are hard to erase. My Grandmother was only 57 years old when he died. She didn't know it then, but she would live a lifetime without him.

My grandfather's name was David.

The name I passed on to my son.

Looking at these pictures, I see David in both of them. And when he giggles he reminds me so much of my own childhood, filled with laughter and dreams to come.

In many ways, I still feel like that 8 year old. There is still so much excitement that awaits. How the world has changed since 1976... I often wonder what PopPop would think of everything that came after him.

He was right about the eating and **** thing though. And because of his visionary thinking, the construction company is still alive and well.

Somewhere in the heavens he is looking down with Gram in his arms, shaking his finger and smiling... "told you so!"

Your day...

Bright and early at 7am, S and I stood in line to cast our vote.

Did you vote today? Make your voice heard.
No matter who you vote for, get out and vote!

And don't forget, you can stop by Starbucks on the way home for a free coffee...

Phantastic Halloween

Behold, the S.W.A.T. man...

He looks intimidating, no?

He paraded at school... (that's his 7th grade "buddy" holding his hand... all together... awwwwwwwwww........)

He even had the time to pose in the dugout with the World Series Champions... the Phils!

Ok, that was trick photography...

It was a very bizarre Halloween around here with, oh, like, half the population in Philadelphia crowding the city, hooting, hollering, and drunk off their ass (well, it HAS been 25 years since we won anything).

But no, not us.

We were drunk on Snickers bars and Mummy Dogs. How much better could a day be?