Random Thoughts

You knew this day was coming! All the random shit that' s been spinning around upstairs has nowhere else to go except here. SO here you go.

Every day when I wake up and get ready to get into my little red truck to drive to work, it never once dawned on me until today that I actually drive through at least two climate zones. And I have been caught unprepared. Today, for example, where I live it's balmy, partly cloudy, and dry. By the time I have paid two tolls, it is drizzling-cold and damp. By the time I arrive at work, I am clearly in another climate zone. I am not wearing a jacket, I am not carrying an umbrella.Crap. I am almost in Canada.

Gas prices used to be fairly consistent no matter where you bought gas...now I find myself amazed that there is a 20 cent difference per gallon, the next town over. Why? Who knows! But I Will plan my commute to take advantage of the extra 3.20 worth of gas I can squeak out. This is one of the useless pieces of information I carry around with me from day to day.

What is it with me and web sites? Do I look like a webmaster? Sometimes it's best to pretend you know nothing. I know nothing. DO not ask me if I can fix this or post that or make it happen. I know too much. Shhhh, don't tell anyone.

Why is it when you feel well enough to test the limits of your body, rarely is it a good idea. I am writing about it so I won't do it; things like Body Combat, the driving range....aww shucks. We'll stick to ice, massage and rest.

Why is it you can never find exactly what you need in the heat of the moment?.but you know it will turn up when you no longer need it, when you least expect it, in the most random location.

The days are getting shorter, the sun a little lower in the sky, the leaves are starting to turn, and it has been two years. Two years ago I was making apple pie and blogging on the Care Pages. Two years ago was an eternity. Two years ago was like yesterday. Life is the same...field hockey, apple picking, football, soxtober. But everything is different...new houses, new babies, new jobs, new outlook on life; goals have been accomplished, challenges met, dreams dreamed...life is good. Two years is good....time is good.....

So that's it for September. We're moving on....more random shit to follow.

How much is it worth to love your job?

Today I knew it. I felt it, and it felt great. For the first time since I started my new job I really knew I loved what I do. I kinda knew it when it didn't matter that my office space was the size of a desk, and the chair I sat in wiggled and if I leaned way back I would land on the floor. I kinda knew it when I walked into the staff room (next door to my office) and there was FREE coffee! I kinda knew it when I could hear co workers laughing down the hall...often. I also kinda knew it when I was asked to play a practical joke on a co worker my first day on the job.

I could almost feel it when my truck rolled over the bridge in the morning sun and I had the sailboats on either side of me in the point, like a picture postcard. I would think to myself.."How lucky am I to be seeing this!?""
But I didn't really know it 100 %. I knew the job had potential...all kinds of potential, and I could feel it deep down in my bones, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

I kinda felt it every time I met someone new and they already knew who I was! I kinda knew it when I realized i could walk to almost all my schools, if I really wanted exercise. I could.

I kinda knew it when I walked into the other school, and no matter what day I entered, at 10:00 lunch smelled fantastic! You could smell the meal of the day throughout the entire school..and they don't even have a caf! The children eat at their desks.

I also kinda knew it when, on Fridays, Dunkin Donuts was a treat...for the office. People cannot afford to go to Dunk's twice a day every day for coffee;that' s what the Mr. Coffee is for.

And then there's the stories..of naughty puppies eating library books, and of "how I met Jackson Brown; and who is that hot soccer player? Taylor somebody? There are stories of Gilette Stadium, and Yankee Stadium. There are stories of pre school, and softball, and of mothers and children.

All of a sudden, today felt good. I did not feel like the new girl anymore. I felt like one of the office. When I ventured out to another district, I did not feel like the new girl anymore.

Today I finally knew it was all worth it when I knew I made a difference and suddenly I felt like I fit in and it was all gonna be okay, no matter what. It was rainy and dreary, and my back hurt, but it was a good day. In spite of the tolls, and the commute, and the gas, and the budget, and the longer days, I knew it was worth it.

How much is it worth to love what you do? How much is it worth to get to teach people how to do very cool stuff with whatever technology they have? How much is it worth to have people you don't even know, be excited enough to share something with you their mother shared with them?
Small things do make a difference in the every day lives of people we touch. I get to do that now, every day. Small things. With great things to come.

Things I used to be good at...

Five and a half days of caring for a 1 year old and a 3 year old has brought back memories, as well as reminded me what I used to take for granted oh so many years ago. My grown children are NOW impressed with the abilities I had to make sure all my children survived their childhood years. I took it for granted when I was in my twenties. I am now impressed with myself! What was I thinking? I guess there was no time to think way back then...it was survival of the fittest-it was being smarter than a 3 year old- it was every man for himself.

Here is what I used to be good at:

Functioning with 4 hours sleep, or 6 hours sleep interrupted every two hours, for 30 minutes at a time. I could have been a firefighter!!

Finding "binkies" -pacifiers, in the dark, on my knees, by feel only- with this skill I could have been a special forces soldier, successfully completing secret missions in the night..

Running up and down stairs, carrying a screaming, kicking 30 pound weight in one arm, and securing the lid of a sippie cup- one handed, in the other hand.

Packing all the necessities required in the event of any kind of evacuation or emergency-every time you leave the house. I think the Boy Scouts call this "Be Prepared!"

Living as a hermit..unable to leave the house or the room, even, for more than 2 minutes, by yourself. I guess I could have been a contestant on Big Brother!

Remembering to knock on the door when you are leaving the bathroom..to make sure you don't knock over the baby on the other side who is banging on the door.

Knowing the difference between the hungry cry, the mad cry, the thirsty cry, the tired cry, and the "I've lost my binkie cry" which sounds exactly like all the other cries.

Living on finger foods: chicken nuggets, mixed veggies, cheerios, toast, scrambled eggs, and macaroni, raviolo or A,B,C's. I am hoping this is a new kind of diet....no seriously.

Eating dinner at 4:30 and going to bed at 8. No seriously.

I used to do all this effortlessly with cheer. Well, maybe not with cheer. But I could do it, times 4. Of course living in a constant state of goo, toys and babytalk may have caused atrophy to the brain cells a little bit. Or perhaps it was functioning on very little sleep. Who knows?

All I know is my laptop has not come out of its case, and I cannot even remember what day it is. But enough reminiscing..it is 8:30 am and it is already nap time!

Happy Birthday

Today is September 11, my daughter's birthday. I was reminded when I woke up this morning and turned on the news, that never again will this day be totally about her birthday..or "all about her" as we like to say. And it made me sad.

I am sad for her because her much anticipated 16th birthday was supposed to be the most special day ever 7 years ago....I am sad for mankind that September 11 is a day, like Pearl Harbor Day, that will live in our hearts and minds forever, but not for a happy reason.
On the 16th anniversary of my youngest daughter's birth, there was no party. Instead, there was fear, insecurity, tears and frustration.

In the years since, the celebrations have never quite lived up to anyone's expectations. It is, after all, the anniversary of the bombing of the World Trade Center..which we have vowed never to forget.

Maybe, like Pearl Harbor Day, in 50 years, the pain of September 11 will be appeased, but the day will never lose its significance.

Today I woke up and felt for my daughter, who was just a little bit crankier than usual last night, in anticipation of her birthday. She is like any other young person, wanting to have her special day, her day in the sun, and all around her, throughout the day, are somber reminders of tragedy, and heroics, of terror, and of loss.

So I will spend time with her and we will all try to make her day as special as we can, knowing that we cannot ever erase what has happened, nor can we pretend that life as we knew it will ever be the same.

Masha, Marsha, Marsha....

I miss my aunt. In weird ways, because it's not like I saw her all the time or very often. But it's like I could conjure her up whenever I wanted to. I knew she was there, just a phone call away. Now I conjure her up and I can see her in my mind as clear as if it were the other day, before she was sick. She is my Aunt Marsha. She is happy, full of life, fun, and funny. She is daring and cute and loving and kind. She smokes like a chimney and swears and gambles. She is my aunt.

Now when I see her she is only in my mind and in my heart. She comes to me at random times. I know she is in a better place, but I miss her, still. I miss knowing I cannot call her anymore or hear her voice. There will be an empty chair, now, at family events. She will not be physically present. I know she will be there, somewhere, in our hearts and in our minds. I can hear her voice and see her face. But she's not there.

It amazes me this whole process of saying good-bye. I can see how some people can never truly say good bye. Saying goodbye feels like the end. So I will not say good bye. I will say, Godspeed. And so my aunt will continue to come to me randomly, I'm sure..when I am still, and quiet and ready. I treasure those moments, because they are fleeting. There is a lesson in there somewhere, I'm sure, but it is all too much for me to analyse at the moment. So instead, I will just accept it for what it is and remember my aunt.

It's a whole new season for questions...

If you ever want to change things up, start a new job! If you ever were feeling bored, unchallenged, or full of yourself..try starting over. Where do I begin?
After 3 weeks I am still in that..."She's still here!" stage..."Do you still like it?"
"Is it what you thought it would be?"
And my favorite...."So.....how's it going?" As they tilt their head and look sideways, not sure they want to hear my answer.

As if I would actually say what is REALLY on my mind!

Every day I make at least 5 lists...things to do, people to see, places to go, questions to ask, things I need...and so on. Believe it or not, things do get crossed off the list! I have decided to try a new tactic today. Instead of spending an hour or so on each task, I am going to pick 1 task and be thorough about it. Like my web page. Yuck. It is a disaster. So, I need to just plug away and get something finished so I can publish, and say, "THAT JOB IS DONE."

I need to be more adventurous and go exploring, like take a road trip and visit people. But I remember what it was like to be a teacher the first week of school and have tech people wander into my room and expect me to drop everything to see what they wanted or needed. That is not how to make friends and influence people.

So, for now I will try to get stuff done. I will continue to make my lists and cross things off. I will be positive and cheery and helpful, and when people ask, "How's it going?" I will say what I always say, "It's going great!!"

And, as usual, whenever I see someone, I start the conversation with..."I have a question....if you have a second." Most people have some sort of answer, and I get some of my questions answered. It's a pretty good gig. I do have a ton of questions, however, and I am still learning to be patient, patient , patient.

Today is a new day...it's a whole new season for questions.

What is Pearl Harbor Day?

Decemeber 7. My grandson's date of birth. He's 6 now, and likes to ask random questions. (Wonder where that comes from?) "What is Pearl Harbor Day?" First he needed to know how to say it , cuz it came out sounding something like Porl Hubba. We have told him since he was born his birthday is Pearl Harbor Day. So now he knows it is a naval base in Hawaii. And the Navy...his great grandfather was in the Navy during WWII, but not in Pearl Harbor on December 7.

Speaking of the Navy and WWII, my father in law is 85, and recently went home to Florida with my mother -in-law, ending their summer in NH early because he has a bad back. He has had quite a life..most of the exciting parts coming before I was born. Much of the excitement coming from the time he spent in the Navy during WWII. Who knew? Now I wish I had written his stories down right after he told them..because the details are fuzzy in my mind. It has nothing to do with the Labor Day cookout and the Pina Coladas...

Stories come out randomly, and they are like little surprises. Earlier this summer we were chatting about their neighbors in Woburn when he was growing up. Then off to the Navy he went. He started telling us how they took back this little village in France, and brought back a ton of loot to the ship, including guns. On the way back to the ship his buddy asked if he could grab one of the guns for a souvenir. His buddy didn't have any room in his locker to store it, so my father in law said "Sure, I'll see what I can do..no guarantees." They were not supposed to keep anything for themselves, personally, let alone a gun! So the next time they had a layover, my father in law secretly whisked the gun off the ship wrapped in clothes, and shipped the gun to his friend's house in Woburn.

Now here's where the story gets fuzzy. Some time recently someone who knew that family met my in laws in Florida.....and told the story of that gun and how much it meant to that sailor's family. It stayed in their family for years and was passed down for generations. Just a story...obviously a much more interesting one told from my father in law's point of view...he described the little French village, he described the invasion, the sailors, his friends,and the capture of prisoners, and the release of the French. He described how much trouble he would have been in if he had been caught with that gun! (And of course he described the gun IN DETAIL.!)

But he took it anyways, for his friend, no big deal, and wondered whatever became of his friend and that gun. Some 60 years later the story comes full circle with an ending you could not make up. I should have written it down. Next time I will.

Write down your stories.