These are a few of my favorite things ...

It's late on a Saturday, but tonight I thought I'd do a list of some of my favorite things.  A tribute of sorts to Janetha of Meals and Moves, a girl who loves her lists. 

1.     Snow (in its season).  I'm a seasonal kind of girl.  When it's winter, I want to see snow.  I seriously believe that winter (and that fluffy form of precip) is nature's way of saying "Will you slow down already?" 

Source

2.  Iced Chai Tea (Tazo Tea from Starbucks esp.)  There's something about that combination of spices that is just so comforting to me!  It is my weekend endulgence.  Frankly, I just love Starbucks.  I like their attitude, I like curling up by their fireplace, and I like the people who wander through the door.  They have the nicest baristas in town.

Source

3.     Studio One's dancers.   I spend most of my time with them.  One of them is mine.  I think they're wonderful.  In a world that seems to encourage girls to be cutthroat and competitive, these girls are all about lifting one another to be their best.  You've gotta love that.

4.     Snow days.  There's nothing quite as much fun as waking up and then hearing that schools are closed for the day.  It's like this incredible gift of time.  Time to put something in the crockpot, curl up by the fireplace, and revel in coziness.

Source

5.     Old Movies.   I love TCM.  Give me Cary Grant over Hugh Grant any day. 

Source

6.     My daughter.   We spent such a fun day together today, and then she went in to work with me tonight.  How did I ever get so lucky?

7.  Blogs and Bloggers.  Yup, I like them.  I'm a fan of several,  in particular  Peas and Thank You, Danica's Daily, and Meals and Moves. 

Source

Source





Source

Have a great Sunday!

The Vernicious Van

When it runs ... I like it.  It does well on the snow, and it has pretty decent gas mileage for the behemoth it is.  It has ferried 7 ballerinas down to summer intensive classes for three years.  It has its good points - none of which would stop me from taking a bazooka to its engine block today ... if I had a bazooka.


This 2003 Chrysler Town and Country is the bane of my existence.  It is certainly the bane of my checkbook.  Every year it seems to require a big ticket visit to the mechanic.  Usually every six months.  I may as well be honest about it.  We've done the fuel pump,tires, an AC flush and recharge, new battery, brakes, and ... oh, it's too depressing.  This time around it is the air compressor, which has a bad bearing.  The compressor has had issues before, but so long as I didn't use the AC we were able to limp along just fine.  Hot, but fine.  The darned thing has taken the fatal leap now though. The compressor has to be replaced to the tune of $800.  It can't be driven until it is.


Not a good situation for someone who has to commute to work each day in an area with next to zero mass transit in the city.  Forget about the school out in the boonies where I teach.  Not a good situation in a family that has only two cars.  Car #2 is a 1992 Ford Explorer ... or the Battle Wagon as we refer to it.  It is a major threat to the environment (and to my checkbook), given its love affair with gasoline.  NOT the vehicle anyone in their right mind would use to commute in.  (Not the vehicle anyone in their right mind would purchase either, but that's another story.)


So, payday is still days away.  Don't know where the $800 is going to come from.   Joy, joy, joy.  The suggestion was made that I get a new car.  Tempting, but who has the money for another car payment?  Not me.  Besides, at the rate I'm going, I'm replacing this car part by part. 


I wonder how much a bazooka costs?

The Second Job

My full time job is teaching fifth grade.  I'll probably talk a great deal about that in the future, but today I want to talk about job #2.  On Fridays and Saturdays I work at a dancewear shop.  It's usually a pretty laid back job.  I have time to correct papers after I clean, organize the stock, deal with customers etc.  (This is the dead season for dance.  Our busy times of the year are the fall  (getting everyone decked out for the year of dance) and the spring (when everyone is prepping for recitals).  It's a pretty good second job ... except when my daughter visits and sees things that she adores.  I usually try to avoid that by having her make up a list of what she needs.  Keeping her out of the shop is much easier on my checkbook.  Although this week she sent a list for short leg warmers and a black Body Pop top.  Yes, I am thankful for our 20% discount.


Due to the closure of the only dance shop in the REGION that fit and sold pointe shoes, the owner of our shop has decided that the time is right to start carrying them.  She went to Florida to learn how to fit the shoes, the benefits of certain shoes for certain types of feet and a myriad of other "pointe shoe mysteries."  When she came home, she brought sample shoes and brochures home with her.  We're going through a crash course on pointe shoes right now.  None of the staff will be doing the fitting (yet), but it's important that one is educated when working in retail.  Right?  You bet!



I've learned a great deal in the past week -

• If a pointe shoe is not correctly fitted, the ballerina can easily break an ankle.  Umm ... seriously?  That doesn't exactly support buying pointe shoes online, does it?  Major guilt!  To my credit, Bailee did have fittings in the spring and fall.  I had no desire to drive 90 miles in our winter weather ... so we purchased her winter replacements online.  I had no idea what went into assuring that a girl has the proper fit.  Each foot has to be evaluated for type (more on that in a sec), and choices have to be made regarding the box, width, crown, vamp, shank (strength and length),  platform, and throat.  The fitter has to evaluate the type of shoe which is appropriate for the girl's ability, flexibility, arch, and the type of dance she is involved in.  This is a real science, folks!  My mind spins after reading through all the literature we received from So Danca (the shoes we will be carrying). 
• There are several types of feet.  Did you know there were types of feet?  I didn't.  Well, I guess I knew there were stinky and not-so-stinky feet ... but other than that, nope.   I'll admit that every foot has it's distinctive personality and look, but I certainly never thought about classification of said feet.  The three main classifications were the Greek Foot (where the second toe is longer than the big toe), the Square Foot (where the toes are squared off), and the Egyptian Foot (where the toes slant diagonally down).
• It seems that all ballerinas from ages 7-10 are rabid to get "on pointe" like the big girls.  I knew that in order for a girl to go on pointe that the growth spaces in the foot had to be almost closed, AND that the ballet mistress had to give her permission.  There's more though ... there has to be a sufficient natural arch in the foot, the dancer has to have good strength in the ankles, knees, and lower back muscles (that's where the ballet mistress comes in), and there can be no hereditary deformity of the feet, knees, or back.  It's difficult to think that a girl could come so far in dance and then have to abandon the option of going on pointe.
• Point shoes have to provide correct arch and metatarsal support.  They also have to facilitate "rolling" up and down from Pointe, and assist the dancer in establishing a central point of balance when on her toes.

It all spins my head a bit, but it's good to know.  The learning curve on this whole dance journey has been pretty steep.  Who knew I'd need to know all this stuff?

The Final Goodbye

Mike's funeral was today.  His family did a fabulous job of honoring him.  I really admire the courage it took for them to share their tender memories and feelings.  There were, of course, lots of tears.  His loss has had a profound effect on everyone who knew him.  There was so much love there ... you could really feel the impact this simple man had made on the world. 


There was also a great deal of laughter.  Mike had a wonderful sense of humor, and you couldn't really talk about him without sharing that part of his life as well. 


Some of the things that were shared included:

• The famous "milk runs" he made, taking at least one child along.  It was always a special time between father and child, and always included a special treat (that had to be eaten before they got home so the other siblings wouldn't be jealous).
• Practical jokes he played as a boy ... usually involving dead snakes and his mother (luckily those farm women were made of pretty tough stuff).
• When his son's asked him about who wore the pants in their family, he said,  "I wear the pants in our family ... but your mom tells me which ones to wear."
• On a trip to Mongolia (to visit his daughter-in-law's parents), he was honored at a local ceremony and was given fermented mare's milk to drink.  He bravely downed the whole glass - only to discover that in Mongolia this was a sign that more was desired.  He was happily presented with a second glass, but he made sure to leave this glass unfinished.
• He delighted his grandchildren by announcing "Let's all have some kickapoo joy juice!"  None of the grandkids knew what it meant ... other than the fact that it meant more fun with grandpa, and they would pile on him with squeals of delight.
• The millions of acts of service Mike performed, always putting others first, and doing so quietly.
• The depth of love and respect he had for his wife, and how he taught his sons to respect and appreciate women.
• The tender memories of his last days ...

Mike played a huge role in so many people's lives.  His life was truly a testament to the effect a good man, doing the right thing, can have on the world.  

A Living Legacy

You know, I dreaded today.  The first day without Mike.  It's a pretty horrible thought.  I expected to feel horrible today.  I'll be honest, I didn't feel good.  My nerves were raw, my eyes were sore, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted.

I teach fifth grade, and my kids were pretty needy today.  I looked at them and wondered where I was going to get the patience.  My evil twin wanted to yell, "Will you just sit down and leave me alone for a little while?" 

That's when it happened.  The thought snuck through ... "That isn't what Mike would do.  Mike would listen and smile and help."  So I listened.  I smiled (okay, it wasn't bright and shiny, by it still qualified as a smile).  I helped them.

That feeling continued all day.  Suddenly I realized that what was happening was so cool.  Somehow, my soul had taken care of healing the hurt.  What was the best way to honor Mike and show my love for him?  Simple.  I would live my life like Mike did. 

That's a pretty incredible legacy to leave behind, but Mike was an incredible guy.

Happy Trails

One of my dearest friends in the world died today.  Mike has been a fixture in our family for over ten years.  He has been the good man that was always there.  He provided us with love, service, laughter, and ten years of joy.


To say that I will miss him is so inadequate.  A piece of my heart passed away with him.  I'm glad he was able to take it with him though.  I will treasure all the memories I have of him, but right now I just cannot imagine life without him.


He won't be here to see Bailee finish growing up.  I hope he gets to watch from heaven.  The rotten part is that he won't be here to HELP Bailee grow up.  I hope she will remember how he lived his life.  I hope that she will remember the last things he said to her.  I hope that she will live her life to be a credit to this man who loved her like a grandfather.


Mike was a big John Wayne fan, so it seems appropriate to end with this quote:

John Wayne as Duke Gifford (Operation Pacific):
"He was a good man. Make sure that it says so on the patrol report." 

All the Posts I Could Write

There's a lot I could blog about today. I thought of many things throughout the day. I think a great deal on Fridays.

• Things that irritate me.
• Things I don't understand.
• Everything I learned about pointe shoes.
• Where my time goes and why I don't have enough of it.

I could go on, but all those possible posts evaporated when I got home from job #2 and read the blog that Mike's daughter-in-law is writing. He's slipping away from us. He really isn't able to visit with anyone anymore. Talking is nearly impossible. She promised that she would let us all know when he dies.

When he dies.

Just like that. My cuddly teddy bear of a friend is going to die, and there is nothing I can do about it. The finality of that statement hit me like a double semi truck (and then proceeded to roll back and forth over my heart for several minutes).

How did we get to this point so fast? He was cancer free only a few weeks ago. I haven't even been able to get my mind around the possibility that Mike might die -- and now we are talking about when he dies.

When I sat with him on Monday, which I now must assume was the last time I will probably share with my dear friend, he said -- "I can't imagine living without your family in my life." Oh Mike ... how can you expect us to live without you in ours? It will be so diminished without your hugs, your smile, and your gentle ways. There will be less light, and so many more shadows. There will be such a great emptiness in the places you used to fill. Now you're going on a journey and leaving us behind on the shore. I can't send chocolate chip cookies or cinnamon rolls with you. I can only send my love. Please know that you are taking so much love with you!

I have discovered that you can cry in complete silence, with tears slipping down your cheeks. Your heart can break, but it just keeps on beating. You can be angry and grateful at the same time. I hate that this has happened, but I am so grateful that our family had Mike and his family in our lives. He has been as close and as dear as a brother to me. Knowing him has been an honor and a joy.

Jurrassic Ballet

There are definitely times in our lives when things occur and forever change us. I can name several "events" that realigned the stars in my universe, but the one that my mind is focused on is the day in 2001 that I walked my three-year-old to her first pre-dance class.


I still harbor some guilt over what she put her young teacher, Miss Dantzel, through. Sorry Dantzel. I hope that you were not scarred for life. She loved dance from the get go. She loved Miss Dantzel. She loved to "run, run, leap." Unfortunately, she also liked to pretend she was a dinosaur during dance. This led to moments of embarrassment in the waiting room when one would overhear sweet Miss Dantzel saying, "Bailee, we don't roar in dance class."


Okay, you can probably already assume that my daughter was on the road to becoming a ballet legend. We live across town from the ballet studio, which means a 20 to 30 drive. Just long enough for a busy kid to fall asleep. Okay, my favorite "put the child to sleep" tactic did come back to haunt me. Unfortunately, my tiny ballerina did not wake up well. I would pull in to dance, take said child out of her car seat, wake her up, and then haul a screaming raptor into the junior dance studio. The office staff would look up and smile, "Bailee's here!" Yup, enter the legend. Once she saw Dantzel, she would stop crying, roar, and go into attack mode (her two fingers extended in proper T-Rex fashion). Yup, just slap a tutu on that tyrannosaur.


Believe it or not, she DID finally give up the whole dinosaur thing. By Christmas time she was ready for her first public performance at The Festival of Trees. The 3-4 year olds were decked out in blue tutus, glitter, trim, and little headpieces that completed their "ornament" costume. They were stinking cute ... and when they walked out on stage, the audience laughed in delight.


Oh oh - did I see a latent flash of raptor light in her eyes? Her eyebrows knit. She frowned. Was she going to freeze up and cry? No ... all was well. She danced, performing each step and pirouette with 4 year old perfection ... right down to the well timed sticking out of her tongue each time she turned back to face the audience. Right on the beat. In perfect time. Miss Dantzel's face froze in horror. It brought down the house. When I got to her afterward and demanded to know why she did that, her response was -


"It made me mad! They laughed at us. Dance is serious!"


Now my baby ballerina is thirteen. Dance is still very serious. Our lives revolve around dance. Christmas means Nutcracker. Fall and Spring mean recitals and school shows. Winter means try outs for summer intensive programs. Summer brings summer intensive, parades, and festival performances. We talk about professional ballet companies, and our young ballerina makes plans for her future.



I'm one of the senior moms now. I know more about ballet, costuming, makeup, and set/prop construction than I ever cared to. I'm one of the members of the office staff as well, shepherding those little 3 and 4 year old baby mice around during Nutcracker. This year one of the baby dance moms commented on how patient I was with the little ones. I had to smile as I remembered.


Patient? I owe it to Miss Dantzel. After all, I'm the mother of a legend. My baby ballerina was a dinosaur.

Wisdom for Wednesday

Today I thought I'd throw a few quotes your way. They caught my interest when I first saw them, and they've stayed with me. I like quotes. They're little bits of wisdom we can shove in our pockets and pull out when we need them.



There is so much good in the worst of us,

And so much bad in the best of us,

That it hardly becomes any of us

To talk about the rest of us.

~Edward Wallis Hoch

It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
~J.K. Rowling

It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running, but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things

~Donald Miller

Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage;

anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.

~Augustine of Hippo

What a Difference a Day Makes

You know you're in trouble when you get up to check on the state of the world and your friends and find a blog titled "Hospice" staring you in the face. My dear friend, Mike, has been battling cancer for the past three years. He was pronounced cancer free in early November. The week before Christmas he was sent from his radiation treatment (preventative) to the E.R. because his oxygen levels were so low. He had to have fluid drained from his lungs. They found signs of cancer around and in his lungs. A real setback, but he came home with the determination to fight once more.

Today his daughter-in-law blogged the truth that they had finally decided to share outside the circle of their family. The battle is over. The cancer has spread at a horrific speed. Hospice came in and has been working with the family on preparing themselves. They are spending every minute they can with Mike, because the end is not far away.

I stared at the computer with tears running down my face. My mind knew that things didn't look good. My mind knew that this was always a possibility. My mind knew ... but my heart wasn't ready. This has all come too soon. Mike is like a brother to me. He is the best that humanity has to offer - a kind, loving, and caring man who spent his life reaching out to others and lifting them up. He worked in insurance claims and was one of those men sent in to natural disaster areas to help people begin putting their lives back together. He was in California for earthquakes and fires, in the Midwest after floods, and on site for the hurricanes Andrew, Hugo, and Katrina. A better man couldn't have been sent. He's not the type of man this world can afford to lose.

I'm selfish. I don't want to lose him.

It seems so unfair. It IS unfair. Mike deserved to see his grandchildren grow up. They deserved to have him in their life for a longer time. Life isn't fair though. Life just is ... it's the hand we're dealt. What matters, in the end, is how we play those cards. Mike played his hand well.

Very well indeed.


So, what do you do next? I'm baking bread and getting meat and cheese so his wife can throw together quick meals or feed the family that comes to visit. I'll make soup. I'll keep their larder as full as I can. I'll give hugs, pray, and cry with them. When needs present themselves, I'll try to help meet them.

In short, I'll try to do what Mike has always done. He may have to lay down his torch, but there are many people who love him that will carry on what he has begun. Lighting our torch from his and moving forward is the best way to honor him. The very best way of all.

Happy New Year Y'All!

January 1st, 2012 - Woot!

I'm sure I can't be the only one who was happy to kiss 2011 goodbye. Heck, I was ready to smack it a few times and then throw it under a bus! I'm not usually so violent, but 2011 did tend to bring out the worst in me. I'm banking on 2012 bringing out the best in me. That's my big resolution to be honest.

Now, I'm not the biggest fan of resolutions. There's just something about them that seems to be shadowed by lurking failure. It seems that as soon as someone makes a resolution, bookies everywhere start posting the odds. The odds aren't so good people. Modern media is only too happy to provide the dismal life expectancy of said resolution. So ... I'll call them goals, keep them basic, and hope for the best.

1. New Year - new blog. I'm looking at it as more of a tool I'll use to achieve the other things I want to do. It helps me stay focused, and it's a more acceptable version of talking to yourself (since taking up residence in a rubber room is NOT on the list).
2. Manage my time, don't let time manage me. Surely I can't be the only one who felt victimized by demands, agendas, and such in the past year? I'm a busy woman. I juggle a lot of luggage (as the blog title says). When the luggage starts calling the shots, you're in trouble. I refused to be bossed around by some freakin' duffle bag!
3. Feeding my family. This is going to include feeding the body with healthier choices and feeding the soul as well.

I'm sure I'll add more things as I go along, goals do tend to break themselves down and breed like rabbits over time. For now though, this is a workable framework for me.

So, day one of the new year. I used to do this huge, fancy dinner on New Year's. This year, I introduced the fam to "grazing day." Our fridge is stuffed with leftovers, there are still goodies and treats taking up counter space, and everyone is wandering around in a post holiday stupor following our annual party and the resident ballerina's performance at a big New Year's Gala fundraiser. We've been sick for most of the holiday ... exhausted by the demands of December (Nutcracker, Christmas, etc. etc. etc.), and so we are pretty, well, lame. That's okay. Today I turned the family loose to graze. Leftover soups and sandwiches have been warmed up. Treats have been savored (they go bye bye tomorrow). People ate when they were hungry and puttered about. It was a totally unproductive and wonderful day spent watching old Marx brothers movies, talking to friends and relatives on the phone, and reading.

Not a bad way to end the holiday.

Not bad at all.