Depression Hurts

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Today was depressing. I felt it coming on slowly for the past few days… it finally came to a head.

Yesterday I hurt my knee. Twice, in a 24 hour period I slammed my kneecap by accident into two different door frames. It hurt so much it took my breath away. You know that feeling??? You can’t inhale because your lungs are frozen?

Rolling on the floor holding my knee in both hands, muttering “shit, shit, shit”, with tears streaming down my face as the dog licked them was the highlight of my day. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. At that particular moment I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked… I HURT!!! It took a solid 10 minutes to pull myself across the floor and on to my bed. I felt like I climbed Mt. Everest!!

Slowly I pulled my pant leg up to inspect my knee. Ouch! The swelling had already started, and a bruise was forming… right next to the one I got a few hours before. I pulled the thin layer of ripped up skin off to get a better look. Hmmm… I wonder… can a knee cap crack???

Common sense and all my years of raising three kids tell me I need to take care of this. Ice… I need to get ice for the swelling. BUT the ice is downstairs… and I’m upstairs. No one is with me, I live alone. I begin to cry for real this time. Depression rears its ugly head. My chest begins to hurt… like something is stuck in the middle of it every time I take a breath. The stabbing pain in the middle of my back causes me to shift my weight on the bed… which causes me to wince from the knee pain… which causes more tears… then sobs.

I am lonely. I hate being alone… especially when hurt. The tears are flowing freely now. I am having a Pity Party for One. If my mind was clear I would have called someone to help. My brother lives a little bit north and wouldn’t mind coming if I called. Heck, my neighbors would be here in a flash too… all I have to do is call.

I don’t call any one. Not for a swelling knee. That’s not emergency enough. If I broke my ankle I would call… but not for my knee. Besides I am embarrassed I am crying like a baby. No… I will handle this all by myself.

Taking a deep breath I get off the bed and GINGERLY test my weight on the knee. Hmmmm… not too bad. Not good, but not as bad as I thought. Carefully I sit down on my butt and bump down the steps one at a time. In the kitchen I reach into the cabinet for some Advil, swigging some water to wash them down. Grabbing some ice and a towel I start to head upstairs. WAIT… if I’m smart (which I am sometimes) I would make a PB&J and take it upstairs for later. That would save me a trip back down when I get hungry for dinner.

Back upstairs I settle in for the rest of the night… and cry some more.

The morning light shines on my face at 7:00AM as usual. My eyes are soft and swollen. Stretching my muscles wakes my brain reminding it that I’m injured. UGH! So sore!!!

All in all my knee was much better than I imagined it would be. Swelling was down, bruise was darker, but it didn’t hurt near as much as the night before. I’m guessing I didn’t do any major damage, and decide to ‘lay low’ for the day to let it heal faster. That’s when the real depression kicked in.

Sobbing, sobbing, and more sobbing. I just couldn’t stop. I have so much to do at the house to get ready for out of town guests arriving the day after I return home from my daughter’s wedding in Florida this upcoming week. Everything for the wedding is done… except packing… and some food shopping. Oh… and getting my nails done, picking up my son’s suit from the tailor, buying a hand steamer for the dress, painting the ceiling and new wood work, cleaning my horrible bedroom, and so much more!! Waaaah! The pain in my chest has moved to my lower back and smack between my shoulder blades.

Taking deep , slow breaths and thinking happy thoughts usually get me out of this ‘funk’… so I give it a try. OK… it’s working. I’m gazing out my bedroom window at the lake. Ah… calming. Geese squawk by, herons take flight, and seagulls circle… then an un-wanted person walks past my window. My heart tightens, the bottom falls out of my stomach as my ex-boyfriend’s new heart throb not only walks past my house, but she is LOOKING at my house as she goes. ACK!!! Doesn’t she have a clue that the mere sight of her upsets me? Does she not think I am human… that I don’t have feelings? I was dumped so he could date her. Personally I have nothing against her… I am sure she is very nice… but does that mean I can’t live peacefully in my house? Seeing her reminds me he didn’t choose me, even though I chose him. My broken heart opens up and bleeds.

I begin to shake. My mind tells me I should go sit on my porch and wait until she returns and confront her. Instead a clearer head prevails, I get into my car and drive to the beach and sit on my favorite bench. Deep breaths of ocean air can cure anything. Waves crashing on the shore, the sun shining down on me. OK… this was a smart thing to do. I’m feeling better.

A young girl sitting on the next bench over and I start talking. It ends up she is having ‘issues’ with her current guy… so we end up talking for hours! We end the discussion realizing we both are looking for the same thing… a nice guy who loves us. After exchanging phone numbers we part ways. This is the second person I have become instant friends with while sitting on that same bench.

Back home I hobble up and down the driveway putting out as much trash for Bulk Pick Up as I can muster. There is so much more that has to be put at the curb… but I can’t handle it today. The construction debris will just have to wait until next month. It’s not what I wanted… but that’s all I can do for today. Hey… all I can do, is all I can do. I begin to cry again out of frustration at not getting done what I wanted.

Depression hurts… all over. My lower back is so sore I can’t stand up straight, and the pain in my stomach just won’t quit. Did any one get the license plate number of the Mack truck that ran me over??? That’s how bad I feel. Every joint is screaming at me. I decide to go to bed.

The radio is on, I’m relaxing… and crying… slowly… quietly. This too shall pass.

A lot of people take medication for this. I used to… however I found the side effects too difficult to work around. Besides… I am not depressed every day. My thinking is… Why take daily medication for something that happens sporadically??? Most of the time I can feel the doldrums coming and have learned to head them off at the pass. Sometimes I miss the signs… and other times I am blindsided… but I am successful most of the time.

Depression is a symptom of PTSD… which I had been diagnosed with a few years ago. It’s embarrassing to admit I have it. This is not a disease you can see on the outside.

Dating with PTSD is difficult too. Most guys run away once they hear I have PTSD. They are not familiar with it and therefore are afraid to be near me. No one will take the time to get to know me better and realize they only have to give me a little space for a day when I ask for it. Sadly I take it personally, thinking I am not worth the trouble to be put up with. Which then starts the depression cycle.

So… I have decided to not date. However… I WILL have burgers and fries with friends! Anytime!! And if by chance I have to cancel at the last minute, please don’t take it personally… just suggest another day.

This too shall pass… this too shall pass… this too shall pass. One day my prince charming will scoop me up and whisk me away to a castle in the woods where we will grow old together and I won’t have any more PTSD attacks. OK… reality check… I’ll settle for a nice guy and a winnebago (or boat) and we will live happily ever after exploring the USA… and I will be happy every day of my life. Hey, it could happen! I was close once… I just couldn’t reach the brass ring. Hopefully one day soon I will.

Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese… It’s a Jersey thing.

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First stop... FRANK'S DELI in Asbury Park. YUM!

First stop… FRANK’S DELI in Asbury Park. YUM!

It would be UN-American to visit the Jersey Shore and not eat a Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwich for breakfast. This sandwich is on every diner menu and in every mom and pop eatery across the state for a reason. It’s delicious!!! It’s New Jersey!!!

There are a few companies that cure and package the salty meat… however it isn’t TRUE Jersey goodness unless it comes from The Taylor Provisions Co located in Trenton, NJ. State Senator John Taylor concocted the secret recipe in the late 19th century… and it has been made the exact same way ever since. Rumor has it Pork Roll was cooked up and served as early as the Revolutionary War at The Battle of Trenton. I am not a history buff, but even I know that was a very long time ago!

I grew up at the Jersey Shore… and just assumed everyone knew what Pork Roll was. Imagine my surprise when my friend from Kentucky never heard of such a thing… and refused to try it even when I brought it all the way down there for him and fried it up in a pan. Good… More for me!!!

Recently on a trip to Arizona I spied Taylor Ham, Egg and Cheese on a restaurant menu. I just HAD to order it and see if I felt I was transported back home. Nope… not quite. The Taylor Ham was sliced to perfection… not too thick, not too thin… and fried up right; it even had the edges sliced to prevent curling. The egg was fried correctly, not scrambled, with the yolk broken before a quick flip of the wrist browned the other side. The cheese was perfect too… 2 yellow slices from the deli counter. The problem was the roll.

Trust me when I tell you… this sandwich is all about the roll!!! In Jersey we call them ‘hard rolls’ and they MUST be dotted with poppy seeds. The inside should be light and airy while the outside maintain a thin perfect crust. A Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwich is still tasty, but it’s not a JERSEY Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese without the right roll.

Taylor Ham? Pork Roll? Is there a difference? No. Pork Roll is the generic term, Taylor is a brand name. Originally The Taylor Provisions Company named their product Taylor Ham, yet the government got involved and stated it didn’t meet the requirements to be called ‘ham’. Since the product was originally sold in a roll covered in cotton (which is still available today) they changed the name to Pork Roll. Depending on which part of the state you grew up in… you either call it Taylor Ham or Pork Roll.

Living near Asbury Park, I can throw a stone and hit ten places to order a Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwich. In my opinion… Frank’s Deli on Rt.71 in Asbury Park is the picture perfect Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese Sandwich. It is exactly what everyone is looking for in this New Jersey celebrity. Danny’s Place on Sunset Rd in Wanamassa runs a close second. Danny slices the pork roll real thin and gives you plenty of it on a perfect roll with just the right amount of egg/cheese ratio. Brennan’s Delicatessen in Oakhurst on Monmouth Rd was good too, although the most expensive. You need to stray a bit from tradition at The Belmar Bagel Cafe located in Belmar Plaza in Belmar and enjoy your sandwich on one of their bagels instead of a roll.

Danny's Luncheonette... YUM! Notice the poppy seeded roll???

Danny’s Place… YUM! Notice the poppy seeded roll???

I paid as little as $3.25 and as high as $3.95 per sandwich… making this a very affordable food choice for those of us on a tight budget.

If you don’t live in New Jersey, you can order Pork Roll via the Internet from Jersey Pork Roll or Jersey Boy Pork Roll and have it delivered right to your door. To date I haven’t found any site that provides the perfect roll. Serving the sandwich on a Thomas’ English Muffin in a pinch isn’t all that bad. Give it a try! It’s the closest thing to an Egg McMuffin you will ever find.

A Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwich and a steaming mug of strong coffee at breakfast is the best cure for a wild night at the shore.

It’s a Jersey thing :-)

** Please ask permission before using any content, comment, or photos from this blog.

Short Story… Beach Morning

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The morning sun peeks through my window and directs it’s warmth on my right eyelid; mother nature’s wake up call. My foggy brain kicks into gear. Numbers… from behind my eyes I see numbers. Low tide… 5:14am. Sunrise 6:18am. Get to work by 9:30am. It’s now 7:00am. Huh… gives me plenty of time to head out to the beach and pick up some shells and driftwood. Hearing rain earlier that morning gives me a reason to change my mind, but the rain has currently stopped so I decide to follow the original plan.

 

Jumping in the shower, I make the executive decision it won’t hurt to go another day without washing my hair. Not being hungry for breakfast, but knowing I have to eat something, I grab a Key Lime low fat yogurt before I jump into the car. I drive north on Ocean Ave so early there is no one on the road. Crossing over the little white bridge I flick my right blinker on and turn into the small, empty parking lot across from the red church. The sand is firm up to a certain point. As it softens I pull to the side and throw the car in park… for fear if I go any further I won’t be able to drive out.

 

Reaching into the back seat I grab the plastic ziplock baggie for the shells and a cloth tote bag to haul home some driftwood. I have a few craft projects in mind which require my astute gathering skills this morning.

 

The drizzle earlier this morning has left a thin, dark layer of sand. Although my car is the only one in the lot, I notice dry sand impressions in the shape of sneaker prints headed towards the ocean. I don’t see a set of prints coming back. Scanning the beach I don’t spot anyone else here. Hmmm… maybe they are on the jetty?

 

No worries… quite a few people are within walking distance of this beach. I move closer to the water’s edge and begin my search.

 

Bending over to get a better look, I take off my glasses to see clearer. The wind is blowing steadily from the waves. Damn! I forgot to bring a hair elastic to keep my long blonde hair constrained and out of my way as I scrutinize the mixture of broken shells, sand, and pebbles for the perfect crustaceans I need for my projects. I could use a few more hands… grasping the bags in one hand and trying to keep my flying hair out of my way with the other doesn’t leave any hands left to pick up my treasures. This struggle becomes a comedy routine. Throw my hair around to the back, then quickly bend over and grab the tiny morsel BEFORE my hair flops down in my face again and obstructs my view. Rinse and repeat.

 

I come here often. It’s my new hobby… hunting and gathering sea glass and such. I enjoy the smell of the salt air, the force of the waves against the shore and the roar of it all. The past 16 years have been crazy and chaotic. Walking on this beach in the early morning makes all of that a distant memory. The sound of the surf puts me in a calm, reflective mood.

 

Sometimes I miss my old life. I don’t miss my husband’s illness and all the pain I have been through… but I miss the day to day role of being ‘mom’ to a young family. I am in my golden years… all by myself. I am single… but not by choice.

 

My husband of 27 years passed away six years ago after a very long illness in which I was his caregiver. I met another man a few years later and for the first time in my life, fell head over heels, ecstatically in love. He wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment and moved on to someone else. I am broken hearted.

 

Walking along the beach gives me time to sort out my life and think about what I want to do with the years I have left. As Pippen sings in the play, “ I want my life to be something more than long.” For this moment however… this damp morning… I bend over placing my nose as close to the sand as I can get without falling over, searching for shells… oblivious to what is going on around me.

 

Voices to my left interrupt my peaceful interlude. I look up, a young boy and girl are arm in arm walking out from the tree lined area by the parking lot… snuggling against each other. Sigh. I miss that feeling. My thoughts turn to my ex. I would have done anything to have stopped him from leaving me. Sigh. I hope he is happy and doing well.

 

My plastic bag is filling up fast with broken bits of muscles, clams, snails and scallops. The seagulls have done their damage and most shells have a teeny, tiny hole drilled where the birds have slurped out their delicious feast. Mother Nature has deposited the piles of broken debris in a long line across the sand where the tides have receded.

 

Without paying any attention to the young couple, I continue my hunt down the beach… standing up every so often to stretch my aching back and flip my hair out of my way… yet again. I don’t need my glasses for close up work, yet if I place them on my head they continuously fall into the sand. UGH! In the future I need to wear a hat and put my glasses on a string around my neck… I make a mental note.

 

I am partial to the shimmery shells with a pearlized coating… you know, all girls love glitter and sparkle; I am no different. I know when I smash all the shells into smaller pieces the shiny ones will give my project the extra pizzaz it needs. I am so excited!

 

Out of the corner of my eye I see a clearing in the sand a little bit off to my right. A break in the line of shells. It looks as if someone swiped everything off to the side and wanted to make the clearing obvious. I work my way towards it… keeping my head down… I gasp! Right there… carefully placed in the center of a hand drawn heart… is a beautiful, sparkley ring.

 

What the f***??? Instantly I turn red realizing the young couple is now standing on the jetty to my right, hugging and kissing. I bet they thought they would be all alone and he planned to propose. Here I am, an old lady ruining their plans and botching up their special moment. Oops… how embarrassing!!

 

Fumbling, I gather my ‘finds’ and turn to make a hasty retreat back to the car… but I am pulled up short… dead in my tracks. It takes a moment for my brain to register what my eyes are seeing. Standing right smack in front of me is my ex. What the hell??? My heart stops beating and my breath catches in my throat. My knees begin to weaken. I am so confused! What is going on? What is he doing here? More importantly… How did he know I was here???

 

Without hesitation, he bends down on one knee and reaches for my hand. I am STUNNED. My head is spinning trying to sort this all out and make sense of what is happening. What is he doing?? We haven’t spoken to each other in months. Literally! No phone calls, no text messages, no e-mails. What is he doing here? Be still my beating heart!! What the…???

 

He broke off with me 2 years ago explaining he wasn’t sure what he wanted. After declaring his love for me and announcing he said the ‘L’ word first… to a year later firmly stating he doesn’t love me… then immediately hooking up with another woman… whom I assumed he was still with. I have never gotten over it. Now here he was, in front of me on bended knee… so far not having uttered a word.

 

I can’t breathe!!! I can’t breathe!!! My knees finally give out and I fall to the sand, kneeling in front of him. He is still holding my hand, looking into my eyes. Afraid to say anything, not that I could muster more than a squeak, I gulp and try to take a deep breath.

 

“I love you.” I hear the words quietly escape his lips.

 

Gulp! Tears begin to puddle in my eyes.

 

“ I am sorry I hurt you. I have spent the past 2 years thinking I was not the one for you… so I let you go so you could find your Prince Charming. I realized I was being stupid… a jerk really… and I loved you… and should never have let you go. If you will have me, I want you back… if it’s not too late. I promise to love you forever.”

 

He continued, “ I know I am not perfect… no one is, including you. I have issues and baggage… you do too… but I want to live out the rest of my life with you.”

 

“Will you take me back?”

 

With that he reached past me and plucked the ring out of the sand and held it up to me with a questioning look in his eyes.

 

Whoa! So many questions and thoughts were flooding my head. Where to begin? What should I ask first? I’m speechless.

 

I remember a night he was in this same position asking me to never leave him. He made it clear he was not begging… just asking. My heart melted that night, angels sang and harps played… that was the night I drank the kool-aid and allowed myself to unconditionally love this man. No one has ever gotten down on bended knee for me before… NO ONE. I blink… the puddle of tears slip down my cheeks.

 

I shake my head to clear the vision. I look down at the sand and all I see are broken shells. There is no clearing, no diamond ring, and certainly no man on bended knee. It was wishful thinking, plus my over active creative brain fleshing out a story line for a future book.

 

Damn!

 

The happy couple walk past me hand in hand, swing their arms together. Both smiling. “Good morning,” they call out to me. “Good morning,” I reply.

 

I gather my things… and my wits… and head home.

 

Oh, what a morning this has been!

Day 1 of New Website…

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For those of you coming here expecting to see a post about my life and the craziness that it entails… please move over to my old site: LIVING ON AIR.

I now have 3 separate and individual sites. This one is now for my professional writing business. You might find it interesting to check into every once in a while as I will be posting articles/stories/writing projects I am working on every now and then. For example… I am currently writing an article about Pork Roll, Egg, and Cheese sandwiches. Over the next few days I will be eating one of the delicious sandwiches from every place in the area so I can compare. My son LOVES this type of research!!

First stop... FRANK'S DELI in Asbury Park. YUM!

           First stop… FRANK’S DELI in Asbury Park. YUM!

LIVING ON AIR will go back to being my site about ME. I doubt I will post the soul searching type of blogs I have been in the past. Those are the ones I need to keep private for now. On LIVING ON AIR I will post my current craft projects, trips, family celebrations and more.

Coming up… I will be going to Sedona, AZ for a week, taking a hot air balloon ride, a pink jeep tour, and meeting with an artist for a private watercolor lesson outside! Not to mention staying with my niece in Scottsdale and another friend in Phoenix. I am told that once I get to Sedona I might never come home; however, I have to because my daughter’s Bridal Shower is early April. Then of course the WEDDING in Disney isn’t far behind. So there will be plenty of pictures and stories to tell. You will find them there… LIVING ON AIR.

OK… last but certainly not least, I am resurrecting the UNIQUE AND NOVEL website. Currently under construction… this site is dedicated to books, reading, and movies. Not just ANY books… oh no! This site will be designed for the reader who is looking for something different to read. It will showcase mostly SELF PUBLISHED authors. I have done a lot of research on self publishing and have come across some fascinating books you simply will not find on traditional bookstore shelves.

Although I won’t be selling the books myself… I will supply a link taking you to the best place to purchase them. Sometimes it will be the author’s own site… and others will take you to Amazon. I hope if you decide to purchase the book I recommend, you use the link I provide so I can get credit for the lead.

I hope you aren’t confused by all of this. If you should end up on the wrong site just look in the margin and I will have a link to take you to the one you want.

See… and you all thought I was leaving you for good. Never!

Good Bye… It’s Been Real

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You all know I’m writing a book… right? That’s the real reason I began this blog… as an ‘author platform’. Every article I read about writing, and every ‘expert’ I spoke to in the field agreed that chances of finding a publisher to print my finished manuscript increased if I had a built-in following. So this was purely a business decision.

A funny thing happened along the way… I found I enjoyed writing the posts. Writing these posts and setting them free into cyber space made my solitary life a little more interesting. The emails, comments, and Facebook messages I received kept me writing. Thank you all.

That all being said… you need to know I am writing this blog post this evening to say GOOD BYE. As is my usual gut reaction to adversity… I FLEE. There are times I want to move out of my house, and times I want no one to know anything about me. My thoughts being that no one would really care if I stopped writing any way.

For the past few weeks I have been concentrating on WHY I continue to blog. The original reason… an author platform no longer applies. Oh, don’t worry… I’m still writing the book… but I came to the realization I don’t care if any one reads it. Really. I don’t. I’m writing the book for me. I think my family would be interested in it… and perhaps a few friends… but that’s all. It’s coming along nicely and I think it will keep readers turning the pages to the very end… but that would just be a bonus.

I think I have also decided to self publish. Many hours of research have gone into this decision. Since I have made up my mind that I don’t care if any one reads it… then I don’t need to worry about finding a publisher.

So… I’m fleeing, for now. I’m laying low and keeping to myself. If you want to know how I’m doing, or what I’m up to then drop me a line via email, stop in for a cup of coffee, write a real letter, call, or send a carrier pigeon… however you know to contact me, use it.

I’ll write when I can, or want to.

Creative Lettering…

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I am sooooooo excited!!! I broke down and purchased some new markers and am having a BLAST with them.

Copic markers came on the scene hot and heavy a few years ago… but the price was so astronomical I put them on my ‘when I win the lottery’ list. They are an alcohol based marker that all the comic book artists use. However, last Sunday, while perusing PINTEREST in my jammies (see Pajama Day) I landed on Martha Lever’s site. She uses a less expensive brush marker in tandem with micron pens (which I already own) to create eye popping lettering… AND she teaches an online course (Calligra-fun) to boot… AND she was discounting the classes! Yea me!

So… the next day I ran to my local, independently owned art store and purchased a few brush markers by Prismacolor, fully intending to come home and take one of Martha’s classes. Alas… I spent my discretional income on the markers and my budget wouldn’t allow me the luxury of  taking a class… even at a discount. But that didn’t stop me! Scrutinizing her style I began making stokes on the blank page with my colorful markers… an extra shadow line here, a little squiggle there and TA-DAH! Creative lettering!!! What do you think? Did I nail it???

IMG_0958

Here’s a few more…

Oops... I drew the leaves in the wrong direction for the flowers on the left. I need more practice!!

Oops… I drew the leaves in the wrong direction for the flowers on the left. I need more practice!!

 

Thank you in Tagalog!! Look... I'm multi-lingual!!

Thank you in Tagalog!! Look… I’m multi-lingual!!

Woven square and giraffe's neck spots are ZENTANGLES!

Woven square and giraffe’s neck spots are ZENTANGLES!

While on PINTEREST I also copied a few styles from ELVIE STUDIO (above)… just to keep the creative juices flowing. The flower and giraffe are copies of hers. You know what they say… copy from the best until you create a style all your own :-)

Eventually I plan to take a few online courses… but for now I’m just dabbling. I enjoy sending handmade birthday cards and thank you notes, this new lettering adds a whole new dimension to my cards.

What have YOU learned new lately???

 

 

Pajama Day!!!

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working-at-home-pajamas-1058896-170x259I officially declared today PAJAMA DAY… and stayed in my Pjs the entire day. I had no plans to go any where and as far as I knew no one was coming over… so why not? I wouldn’t be embarrassed if a friend or neighbor unexpectedly dropped by. For all intents and purposes I am dressed well enough wearing a white long sleeve Tee and flannel pants… although the pants are my Christmas jammies, printed with candy canes.

 

I brushed my teeth this morning and washed my face, but around 4PM it dawned on me I didn’t brush my hair. Oh well… it has that ‘fresh from bed’ tousled look… not that awful; no make up either… also not that awful. I haven’t done this in YEARS! What a relaxing day… ahhhh. Hey… I think I will declare every Sunday after ‘springing’ the clocks ahead one hour PJ DAY! Meet me here next year and tell me what you did in your Pjs

 

Today I frittered the day away on FaceBook and PINTEREST marveling at all the creative and clever people out there in cyber land. Sometimes I feel like such an underachiever… but then I realize these people aren’t this spectacular every day. I’m only catching a glimpse of their lives… a snippet really. I can be just as clever and creative a few times a year too… just not today.

 

As I look through many Pinterest ‘boards’ I have come to the conclusion that A. Too many people have a lot of spare time on their hands, and B. So many people have insecurities. On the other hand, I have found it a great resource for finding interesting recipes, hints on making my blog better, thought provoking sayings, fabulous fonts and type styles, and so many projects I want to do there just are not enough hours in the day. Basically, a huge time sucker.

I whipped up some Arepas for dinner… and am calling it a wonderful, relaxing, peaceful day.

Now I think I will head on over to Etsy.com and see all the new designs my daughter listed in her shop, Kreative Event Services. She is an awesome custom invitation designer… who just finished the Wedding Invites for my other daughter’s Disney Wedding this June. Check out the Save The Dates she designed for the big day. Hmmm… While on Etsy maybe I can hunt down a purse to go with my crazy dress for the wedding. Hmmm… Great idea! See ya later!

 

I hope you had as much today as I did!

Five Minute Friday – Home

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It’s FRIDAY! Time for Five Minute Friday… a post written in five minutes using the word prompt given that week, with no thought given to grammar, context, spelling, or anything! Just write! Then post it on Lisa Jo Baker’s site for all to read. Then cheerlead for the person who posted before you. It’s that easy! Won’t you join us?

Here goes…. Home…

Where is home, really? In your heart? Where you sleep? Where you grew up? Where you raised your family?

Here at the jersey shore so many families have been displaced. Their ‘house’ no longer exists. Hurricane Sandy blew it apart. Their personal belongings were shredded and pulled out to sea. Family photos, heirlooms, furniture that has been passed down in the family through generations, perhaps brought to this country through Ellis Island… all gone. Total devastation. Yet… ‘home’ still survived… as these victims huddle together and find a new place to live, and start all over. A place to call ‘home’ again.

Years ago a dear friend of mine made the decision to move ‘back home’ to Arkansas when her breast cancer refused to stay silent. She wanted to ‘go home’ to die. To her ‘home’ meant being near family, her support group. I made every effort to visit her at her ‘home’ before she passed. Thankfully I was able to visit a few weeks before she passed… and the good Lord called her to his ‘home’.

After leaving the house I grew up in 38 years ago… I moved ‘back home’. The kids have all grown, my husband passed away… there was nothing keeping me in the town where I raised my family. So, now alone on my own I too wanted to move back ‘home’. To my beginning. I thought I would feel comfortable here… sadly I don’t.

I wonder… will my children ever feel the need to move back ‘home’ to central New Jersey?

What is HOME to you?

 

Double Stuffed or Regular?

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Years ago while working in a warehouse, a regular customer, a cute married couple from Holland were stopping in on a buying trip. When they arrived I made a mental note to remember they kiss three times… right, left, then right again. I always forgot and the guy made sure to hold my shoulders firmly and direct me to the last kiss on the cheek.

Since they stay all day, I would be in charge of taking their lunch order. I learned quickly that we American’s eat way too much! This couple made a habit of sharing one dish… always! When the question of, “What would you like to drink?” came up I was in for an challenging task.

“Milk.” was their simple request.

“What type?” I countered.

“Pardon me?” they asked with a furrowed brow.

“You know… 1%, Fat Free, 2%, Chocolate, Strawberry…”

“Ummm… milk. Regular milk.”

I smiled and headed out the door secure in the knowledge they requested Whole Milk. Got it… no problem. I could handle this.

Do you know how hard it is to find an individual sized container of regular whole milk at the local WaWa? They didn’t carry it. I could purchase a half gallon, but not individual containers. So… of course I grabbed the half gallon… and plastic cups. See… that’s why I got paid the big bucks… I can think on my feet and make executive decisions :-) From then on, whenever I knew they were coming on a buying trip, I made sure the refrigerator in the warehouse had containers of whole milk. That’s called customer service.

Anyway… One afternoon I was standing in the food store’s refrigerated section staring at the confusing selection of orange juice choices. No pulp, Some pulp, Grovestand, Homestyle, Extra Pulp, Calcium added, Vitamin C enhanced, Low Acid… and more. Really? Do we really need THAT many choices of orange juice? I simply want juice… from an orange. That’s it. In my home I have two kinds of OJ drinkers… With and Without. Once, just to stay within budget, I purchased ‘with’ and strained it. Poured the remaining juice into two separate containers and scraped all of the pulp into one. Ta-da! One ‘with’ and one ‘without’. Problem solved.

Back at the food store, contemplating my choices, a decent looking guy excused himself, pulled the door open in front of me and easily grabbed his preferred OJ. Noticing me in deep thought… he commented, “This should be a compatibility question on Match.com.” Too funny.

You know… he wasn’t too far off. Small details like that come up all the time when you are just starting to date someone. It can make or break a relationship. Little did I know a guy I was dating proclaimed that me liking Double Stuffed Oreos instead of the Original Oreos was a ‘deal breaker’. I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t.

So in honor of all of us who can’t get enough of the ‘white stuff’… here’s a recipe from one of my favorite blogs Cookiesandcups.com…

Oreo Cookie Filling Dip

Oreo Cookie Filling Dip

Click CookiesandCups

for the story and recipe.

Enjoy!

Love Letters…

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We all have our stories to tell, don’t we?

On a whim, I stopped in Ocean Grove Pet Boutique to see if an old friend from my childhood was working that day. Happily she was! After the shock of me walking in unexpectedly sunk in, and hugging , it only took an hour to catch each other up on the past 40 years. Marriages, deaths, children, dogs, cats, siblings, schooling… you name it, we covered it all. We talked fast!

Cindy and I had been friends all throughout high school. Actually, I was on a double date with her, her soon-to-be first husband, and a friend of his who was enlisted in the Army… when it was the very first time I lied to my mom… and I got caught! I knew my mom wouldn’t care for the guy… as he was too old for me, so I led her to believe I was going out with my EX boyfriend Kevin. Mom didn’t know we had just broken up, so when I left the house she assumed that is who I was with, and I didn’t set her straight. So see? I didn’t actually lie… right?

Any way… I didn’t make it home by the time I said I would and mom got worried. Remember, there weren’t cell phones back then and to be honest I lost track of the time. When I arrived home… finally… my mother glared at me and announced I needed to call the Ocean Township Police Chief. ACK!!! She described Kevin’s car, an aqua Ford convertible with a white top (although it was really black) and had the police looking for him. YIKES!

My conversation with the Police Chief was brief, and humiliating. He made me promise if I were ever to be late again and couldn’t contact home, I was to contact the police and inform them of my whereabouts so they in turn could contact my mom. Yeah, right… like I was really going to do that. However, I yes’d him to death, died of mortification and hung up the phone; my mother still glaring at me. The lesson I learned that day? Never lie to my mom… pay back’s a bitch! I never went out with the guy again either… he was way too old for me… and he wore too much cologne… or was that booze?

In our conversation today Cindy mentioned she had been married 3 ½ times. Half? I wondered how she got the half… and wanted to ask, but didn’t want to interrupt. Eventually it all came out. She was in love, and engaged when he suddenly passed away of a heart attack. Tears sprang to my eyes and goosebumps ran like ants at a picnic up and down my arms as Cindy looked me square in the face and said, “He was the first guy I ever kissed where my knees buckled.”

I know that feeling. I’ve had that kind of kiss. Not only did my knees buckle, but the first time he innocently grabbed my hand (in a parking lot on the way to dinner… at 7:30PM on a Thursday night many years ago) electric shocks went flying through me like a fourth of July Grand Finale… gee, not that I remember the fine details or anything :-) Truth be told, a moment like that is never forgotten. They don’t come around that often.

Cindy’s comment stuck with me the rest of the day. It was still in the back of my head when I began to sort through some of my mom’s papers. While cleaning out her house to put it up for sale, I stumbled over a large, heavy suitcase filled with old letters. Many of which turned out to be ‘love letters’ from different suitors.

Men were ga-ga over my mom back in the day, but the only way to communicate was through the lost art of letter writing. As I read a few my heart pounded. I realized I knew most of these men. My dad passed away when I six years old and I remember some of the men my mom dated. One letter in particular caught my heart. It was from an old neighbor of hers,Tom. As a matter of fact mom told me the story of going to the doctor for fear she was pregnant because Tom kissed her on her front steps (Yeah… that was the extent of my sex education lesson from mom; You can’t get pregnant with just a kiss). I wonder if her knees buckled? Tom left for college, mom moved away, and each married other people. You would think that was the end of the story… but no.

Tom was in and out of our lives. He worked for an ice cream company and always arrived with a gigantic box filled with ice cream treats and dry ice! We were the cool kids (get it? Cool? Dry Ice?) on the block as we pulled our wagon around the neighborhood leaving a white, foggy trail of dry ice gas behind us. Oh yes… and don’t forget the freezer of ice cream! I’m sure we were the only kids EVER to be allowed to eat ice cream for breakfast.

Today I ever so carefully unfolded a brittle and torn sheet of legal size typing paper written in small cursive letters. It reads:

Dear Grace,

It’s been many a moon since I last wrote you a letter. The last serious letter writing spree between you and I was about 18 years ago. As you can see by the start of this letter my technique has not improved much in the love letter writing field. They just didn’t teach me to write love letters in college. I would like to write you a great masterpiece telling of my love for you. The urge is there and I know what I’d like to say, but the words never come out on paper the way I want them to. To sum up my great masterpiece, (that I know I won’t write) in a few words, I miss you, I love you with all my heart, and wish we could be together forever. I’m surprised I got that much out.

The letter continues on with sweet words of how he feels when he is around her… and how he wished he could ‘sweep down on my white charger and carry you off to a faraway castle and we’d live happy ever after.’

He ends with… ‘I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you getting on the bus, and I’ll continue loving you the rest of my life.’

IMG_0889

Sniff! Where did that damn tissue box go?

The top right corner of the page is torn off. I can read it was written in November… but the year is gone. I would love to know when he actually wrote it. The condition of the paper suggests mom read it many times.

Tom was married, not happily from what I remember and had children. It was not an ideal situation, but he stayed with his family and supported them as best he could. Many, many years later life became too much for him and he committed suicide. I knew my mom was upset, as any close friend would be… however I never really knew how much they meant to each other, until now. My heart aches.

So… have you all learned a lesson from this???? If you love someone… LET THEM KNOW!!

I, for one, don’t have the courage to write a letter like that. I take that back… I could write it, I just wouldn’t have the nerve to actually mail it. Funny, I have no problem writing about my life and plastering it on Facebook and my blog… and even my book. But to tell the guy who makes my knees buckle how I feel? Never! Besides… it’s too late.