Monthly Archives: September 2017

the crush…

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Don’t you find calling someone a “crush” interesting especially since that person could literally crush your hopes and dreams with one unkind remark; if they were ever to find out?

In the first week of Freshman year, my doll found herself “crushing” on a boy whom she happened to share three of seven classes with. “Mom, he’s so funny, and cute…” She told me as we drove home one day. Wondering what he looked like she described him as such, “Dark hair and black rimmed glasses”. “So he looks like Harry Potter?” I asked amused. “No, he’s missing that horecrux scar atop his head,” she replied and we both smiled. Then over the course of the year, I became acquainted with the nice young man–not in person mind you, but rather after she pointed him out to me.

Toward the end of Freshman year, as her friends sat around talking about their crushes, my doll, let it slip about “J”. Since then, they’ve been working overtime trying to get their favorite gal pal and this nice, funny young man together, much to my doll’s happiness and horror. “What are they doing to me?” She’s lamented on more than one occasion, following the fun disclosure from school. “Alexa pushed me into J at a pep rally and claimed it was an accident…” She mock complained. “Did he say anything to you?” I asked. “I don’t know, I was too busy slinking away and embarrrassed to notice,” She replied. “Too bad, you never know when sparks may fly….” I replied and was slapped across the arm in return.

This year, my doll gets to share two classes with J and still finds him dreamy. What’s more, her friends have also stepped up their game to push them together. Of course, I wouldn’t be a mean mommy, if I didn’t partake in some of the fun… Arriving late to pick her up from school, I noticed J sitting outside, presumably waiting for his ride too. Instead of pulling up in front of where she sat, I parked in front of J. As she opened the car door I leaned back and said, “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to J?” Watching a mortified look cross her face, she jumped into the backseat, quickly closing the door behind her. “MOM! Did he hear you?” She asked in a semi yell and screech. “I don’t think I was nearly as loud as you are now dear,” I replied as she threw her head into her hands and sighed heavily. “I can’t believe you did that!” She said, though muffled by her hands. “Did what?” I replied again and was greeted with, “Why do you persist in making my life difficult?”  Which helped produce an even wider smile.

Last week as we drove to school after a 2-hr delay, I happened to notice J was in the car behind us. As I pulled into the school dropoff sight, I said, “Hey, J is in the car behind us…” and for the life of me, I’ve never seen my doll grab her belongings and jump out of the car so quickly. “Wow!” I said and was met with a “Stop!” before she turned and walked quickly into the building, trying her best not to walk slow enough for him to catch up, or even pass pass her. I sat there simply amused by the sight.

“Mom, I overheard C and J talking about dates for homecoming. According to C, he’s asking someone…” She began. “Maybe that’s you…?” I replied. “No, C remarked how she wasn’t in our class,” She replied sadly. “Well, too bad for him doll. Besides aren’t you going with your girlfriends?” I asked. “Yes, but, sigh…” after a moment she paused and added, “I think it’s important to date while in high school–I mean, not find your soulmate or forever person, but to help you practice for when you reach college and beyond. I just think it would be nice to go out on some dates…” 

I nodded my head, listening to her thesis on the virtues of dating in High School with interest. At fifteen she’s never been on a date, let alone kissed a boy. My doll has a good head on her shoulders and we’ve shared some good conversations about the human hormonal responses to dating. However, this prompted me to reply, what I have learned from high school dating. “I know two couples from my High School class who dated all through school and married and remarkably, are still married today. I also know several others who married after high school and divorced five years later. So High School can be important in the dating scheme. But, don’t put so much importance on the idea, that you ruin the process, okay?”

A few days later she told me, “J doesn’t have a date for Homecoming”. “Hmm, his date fell through?” I asked. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I don’t know…” “Maybe he’ll go to the dance on his own…?” I said in return. “Maybe, I’m just happy I won’t have to see him be monopolized by one girl,” she replied. “Doll…” “Gotcha!” She said then laughed, before seemingly changing subjects until ten minutes later, showing me a secret video Alexa had taken of J in Science… “Isn’t he cute and funny?” She gushed. 

Oh brother….

 

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Celebrating birthdays 🎉…

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In 2013, the American Cancer Association began an advertising campaign that endorsed the celebration of birthdays. In the past two weeks, I’ve had the privilege to participate in two cancer walks, dedicated in the hope that one day, Cancer diseases will become a footnote in history, completely eradicated from our future and thus, celebrating everyone’s birthdays for many years to come.

Captain and Teals…


The Ellen Jackson Ovarian Cancer Walk took place on the University of Toledo’s Medical University campus, but the walk was not limited to those supporting Ovarian cancer research, but rather open to all women with gynecological cancers. My group, “The Captain and Teals”, came out to support our friend Barb’s want for more birthday celebrations; who triumphed in her battle with Vaginal cancer, though still suffers from the affects of her radiation treatments. 

In all there were probably 5-600 participants, who took a beautiful circuitous route around the Medical hospital’s campus and learned more about the cancers than previously known. The course around the campus was surrounded by beautifully decorated teal (the color designation for ovarian cancer) colored ribbons along with placards offering information about symptoms of gynecological cancers and ways to help prevent or at the very least, keep your risk for contracting these diseases low.

Then, this past Sunday, my doll and I joined team “Be the Storm” in celebration of my dear friend, Lynda, who is currently in her first year of triumph over breast cancer; by participating in the 24th Annual Susan G. Komen Race/Walk for the Cure, held in downtown Toledo. In addition to supporting our friend, we also walked in support and celebration for my husband’s sister Lisa, who is currently battling this deadly disease.

Prayer board set up by St Paul’s Lutheran church along the route.

As we walked along, I kept pointing out various signs to my doll that others carried in support of their loved ones.  Of course, we were joined by some 12,000 other participants as we took another circuitous route, this time around our downtown area. We were treated to music from area bands–high school and professional alike;  along with the Toledo Symphony and a few professional DJ’s thrown in for good measure, every few blocks, to encourage us forward, onward and upward to the finish line. 

Sunday’s Race for the Cure was especially poignant for me, having the doll along to experience the joy and exuberance that comes with the want and desire to continue celebrating birthdays with my dear friend Lynda and my sister in law and friend, Lisa. 

Hopefully this years’ walks will help everyone continue to joyfully celebrate happy birthdays next year and beyond.

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For a better description of the Race for the cure walk, I suggest you read the blog I wrote after my first walk. More poignant today, considering our political climate. 

https://marsha8of9.wordpress.com/2012/10/01/can-you-help-a-sister-out/

Shipping….

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A few years ago, my daughter delighted in telling me how she and her friends were “shipping” characters from the television show, Once Upon a Time. Having never taken the time to watch the show myself, I had little care nor clue about what she was describing. Since then, she and her friends “ship” everything, real or imagined, when it comes to the possibility of a couple.

For those unaware what “ship” means, here’s a quick mostly paraphrased definition from Wikipedia, “Originally derived from the word relationSHIP,  it’s the desire by fans for two or more people, either real-life people or fictional characters (in film, literature, television etc.) to be in a relationship, romantic or otherwise”. So, for example, if I took the names of the dogs we’ve previously owned (Sweet Pea/Dixie) and smashed them together, their “Ship” name would become “Sweet Dixie” which, to me is remarkably funny, because Dixie was never one you would think of as being sweet; but I digress.

Anyways, back to the story at hand…

My doll and her friends “ship” anyone they perceive to be in a relationship–or hope to be; which until recently was fine. That is, until during a recent group chat, her friends began “shipping” my doll and the boy she’s had a crush on since the first day of 9th grade (As a reminder, the doll is currently enrolled in the 10th grade). “What are they doing to me?” She asked, embarrassed-yet seemingly pleased at the same time. “Great, now they are voting between two really dumb “ship” names for us…” She added, holding her phone out for me to see, before quickly retrieving to reply back for them to “stop”, but in that certain way that also seems to encourage them, to continue.

So, what are the two names? At the risk of losing my daughter’s confidence, I cannot say. However I can offer some similarly shipped names… “Jolly” and or “DoJo”. To be honest, the boy never let me in on any information about girls he may have liked, other than his friend Alexa, who was just a dear friend to him. So this is all new territory for me…one I’m loving too. And as an added bonus, as her mean mommy–I too am equally excited and am looking forward to using those shipped names to my advantage in the not so distant future.

 

 

 

 

I’m lonesome for you…

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My mother used to have a handy saying for everyone of her needs. Take for example, if she had any inclination to kill one of her nine children, she would recite (from rote memory), “Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can, seldom in a woman and never in a man,” loudly and oftentimes on constant repeat; as she moved us through the days. When my kids were little, I could often be heard repeating her ditty, save for one significant change… “Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can, seldom in my doll but never in DYLAN” When he was very young,  he would tell me of his lack of patience saying, “I have no pace momma, no pace.” 

Another clever saying of hers was, “I’m lonesome for you…”which was a wonderful notion when I attended an overnight summer camp, back in the 1970’s. Yet, as an adult it didn’t possess the same quality, especially when uttered when you already felt overwhelmed by your busy lifestyle. To be honest, her call to tell me how much she missed me, was not always my favorite call to get. However, today, in retrospect, I long to hear her utter those words to me almost hourly.

Which brings me to today’s post.

I know this blog and the photo companion blog has been hit and miss lately, not because I don’t have anything to say (having an only child is such a different experience), but rather an amalgam of different reasons. But true to form, I have indeed found myself lonesome for writing, for editing (can’t believe I just wrote that), for talking to you all about my blog and keeping you up to date where everyone in my little universe resides. So, I either have to find a better use of my time, or quit my jobs. Though losing an income for a fancy is not the best financial decision I can make. So I guess time management has now become my new goal. Moving forward, I’m going to try to write a MMM 3 times a week to start. Cross your fingers. Also I hope to post something to the photo blog soon.

My hope is to reignite my love of writing, spread some joy and maybe stave off those lonesome feelings. Hopefully you’ve been lonesome for these blogs As well. 

See ya soon. 

 

 

Mr. Minimal has gone to college.

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When we dropped the boy off at school, I reminded him to call home twice a week, just to let us know how he was doing and to answer any texts I send–even if it’s simply to say “Good morning” or “Goodnight”. But as I’ve been reminded all weekend, my son is behaving very much like every other college student and failing miserably at calling and texting. In fact, even when he responds, he does so in such minimal terms, that I wonder why he even bothers.

This past Sunday, I longed to hear his voice as well as remind him of the job fair the school was going to hold very soon. As a condition for one of his scholarships, he’s required to get an on campus job. I sent him an email early that morning, reminding him to call home. I also hoped he’d call around 6 pm, as we were visiting with family who kept asking an array of questions concerning him, “How’s the boy doing at school?” “What’s the good word, does he like his classes?” “Any news?” To which our standard reply has become, “No news is good news?”

He never did call. On Monday morning he sent an apology noting he never checked his notifications and didn’t see a reason to call. But, I did happen to get a modicum of information out of him. So, for all those wondering, this is what he’s found out at college…

He prefers waffles to pancakes. He’s eating an unconscionable amount of ice cream. He was going to attend the job fair and the day before he accidentally dropped a full cup of root-beer in the cafeteria (awkward). When I pressed for more information about stuff other than his stomach, I got radio silence (aka nothing). Not sure how I should take all this, I mentioned to my sister Carol, my frustration at his unwillingness to let me be the fly in his room and fill me in on stuff. Her reply was simple, “This sounds exactly like the texts I received from my girls, save one thing. Instead of ice cream, they were drinking beer. Everything is normal. He has FREEDOM and is using his, by keeping mum.”

For all the times I wished he’d be “normal’… grrrr.