I AM HOME! Didn't think it would be this fast but I am home and feeling terrific. There is still work to do on my heart(maybe) but for the most part I'm fine. Yes, this has been a wake up call. Yes, I realize I have a second chance. Yes, I am going to change a bunch of things. I have a prescription for one of the new stop smoking drugs...and yes, I will use it. Thank you everybody for your thoughts and prayers.
We are having some problems right now. I won't go into detail and I'm sure things will be okay but I thought some prayer to help it along couldn't hurt. Please say one, or two, or twenty for us that we can work things out and come out a stronger family very soon. Thanks. Love you all. ~Chrissi~
All, The School of Education will be taking a group of students on a mission trip to Costa Rica during spring break 2010 (yes, that's next spring). This past week, I and 2 other faculty members went to meet with churches and schools in the San Jose area to plan activities and make arrangements for next spring. Of course we had to try some of the local area attractions to make sure they would be safe for our students.
P.S. Russ, I think the story idea is great; I'll work on my contributions soon.
For several years now, I've been toying with the idea of putting together a book for the grand kids who may not have vivid memories of Dad and now Mom. Some of them never knew Dad and poor Cody will never know either of them. I think it is time we put down on paper some of our favorite memories. While we are still grieving over the loss of Mom, those memories are in sharper focus and I think we should take advantage of them. Perhaps it will bring us closer to letting go and moving on. I'll leave the psychology to the PH.D's.
So, here's what I'm asking all the brothers, those wonderful women who joined our family, and the grand kids who remember a special time with Pop Pop or Dee Dee, to do. Write down your favorite 2 or 3 memories, and send them to me. We all recognize how special these two people were. We need to share their lives. I undestand that not all memories are of peaches and cream and neither was the journey we shared with Mom and Dad. Those are important as well. I'm asking for your most poignant memories. Those that have shaped your life. And, since the brothers are getting older and their memories are slipping, as evidenced by the fact that Mark thinks it was Tim who rode his bike into the wasps' nest, we probably shouldn't wait.
I'll start with a quick one that has given me the working title for Dad's volume. Before we moved to the house on Savannah, which became the house we associate as 'home', we lived three blocks over on Beryl. Yes, we moved three whole blocks. But, when you're seven, that move seemed like a relocation to Mars. Life on Beryl wasn't mundane. There was the guy next door, who was Mark's age, who showed us that airplane glue could burn doodle bugs in the most fantastic way. And, the twin sisters down the block who had to wear neck braces...I don't know why. But none of that matters. What matters is the fact that we had bunk beds and that Dad came in every night to kiss us good night. Before your sentimental hearts melt, let me set you straight. This was not a pat on the head and 'sleep tight'. This was an assault from a man whose whiskers could strip paint from a Buick. It is truly amazing that we we grew into men considering the number of times we screamed like girls when Dad came to tuck us in. We ran for the sanctuary of our flimsey sheets and our double decker fortress of solitude, vainly trying to escape those 'hairy kisses'. But each night we were vanquished with an 80 grit smacker and a simple 'love you, son'. How my heart longs for just one more.
So, send me your stories for "Hairy Kisses" and its' companion volume "Uh-oh, she said DAMN!" My e-mail is email@example.com. If you have pictures that coincide withyour stories, send them too.
After a lively discussion about the pros and cons of subscribing, it has been decided that a subscription button would be an added benefit. I actually have been trying to put this button on for a while, but it continuously told me that the address wasn't valid. I thought the validity checking site was not working so I kept checking back and it kept giving me the same message. And then it dawned on me, it was one of those light-bulb moments: the blog is privatized! Ah ha! Soooo.... I unprivatized it, the validity website recognized the site, I placed the subscription button on the blog, and re-privatized it. Now, I am not sure if it will be a problem that it is private, so if anyone has any problems with the subscription business let me know, and I will try and trouble-shoot. And I don't know why the button looks different than on my website, but I figure you are all smart folks who can figure out how to click on a link. So there ya go! Subscribing is up and running!
Kyle helped Russell and I paint this weekend, and on Monday morning he helped me make these videos touring the house. (I was hoping to show you all how wonderful it looked painted and with the carpets cleaned, but we just didn't get it all done before I had to leave. Sometime during the day Sunday - when I was thinking about Mom and trying to just paint instead of get emotional (huh, fat chance) - I realized it was possible that I wouldn't be back in the house again before it sold.
So I thought I would tell something about the place we called home for 45 years. Afterwards, I realized there were dozens of stories that could be told, just by cueing off the places in the place.
Feel free to add your own comments, stories, etc. Turtle Yard
Spent a lot of time today, thinking about you guys and our parents (especially mom) on this day. She really was an amazing woman. I am dumbfounded as to how she managed to do it all. Today, my house is a wreck--there's laundry to be done, dishes to be done, cleaning to be done, and bills to pay and I don't want to do any of it! It just seemed to "happen" with mom. I know we all did our parts, but it didn't feel "heavy," like it does now. Maybe that's the blissful ignorance of childhood (or lack of memory brought on by aging), but I don't think so. Something about the way mom handled it all appeared seamless--moving in and out of multiple activities. I get tired just thinking about my day, but mom survived her days and made many of them special for me and I know for all of you too. On days like today, I miss them both VERY much. I know we said we would think on the epitaph again. Here's another phrase that I wrote as I was thinking about mom today, "...she lived simply, but loved extravagently..." DWR