Truths: The dirt behind Christmas

As I was on my knees yesterday scrubbing the toilet – I couldn’t help but think about Currier and Ives… You know those beautiful Christmas Cards we think of when we hear those two words together?

I just wondered who scrubbed the toilets behind the pictures they took. Everyone wants their Christmas to be like the ones they photographed and I just can’t help but wonder how they did it?

No one thinks about scrubbing toilets when they think about Christmas… No one thinks about the long lines or the shipping costs or the ribbon tied in knots around their fingers.

We all have sugar plums dancing in our heads because all we picture are the perfectly wrapped gifts, the basted turkey in the oven and our family sitting around the fireplace just enjoying each other’s company.

We envision this year after year even though each season we swear we will never procrastinate again – we will never wait until the last minute to do our cards, we won’t buy as many gifts and we won’t make a fuss about everyone coming over…

We must suffer from holiday amnesia because most of us fall short of our dreams and struggle to keep our act together days before Christmas.

The truth is – everything leading up to these magical moments is utter chaos. The wrapping marathon, the cleaning frenzy, the grocery scramble…

I have gotten up each day for the passed two weeks with a list and a timeline of how and when I will get it all done. Its like cramming a semester worth of studying into the night before finals.

The bright side is that my house is immaculate (at least my version of immaculate). My toilets shine and my laundry is done – in fact all of the sheets in the house are clean at the same time, my fridge is stocked (it hasn’t seen this much food since we got it), I will be using my pretty stove and our new bar is open for business (thank goodness!)

Everyone is coming to our house this year – in fact everyone is sleeping at our house… Too many than we have beds for – but that is okay… I am excited to have all of my family together, in one place, for a few days.

We will be eating and opening gifts and hopefully, enjoying each others company and maybe it will be so beautiful that Currier and Ives would want to photograph it. At least I know I will!

Tails: In the Christmas Spirit…of miracles

Its getting to be crunch time – only a few days left before Christmas and many people will be rushing around to find that perfect gift – the “WOW” gift that will be remembered long after the decorations are put away… A gift that everyone will love… and sadly, that can mean a spur of the moment trip to the local petstore.

Its easy to walk in and envision a cute little puppy in a stocking or hiding in a box with a beautiful red bow. Heck, that was MY idea of perfect Christmas! BUT, pet stores are NOT the place to get your fuzzy gift this holiday. Pet stores sell dogs who come from puppy mills – places that breed dogs for money – not love and companionship. Places that pile dogs in crates and give them little food, water or shelter – and no affection. I do not care what any pet store tells you – their dogs come from horrible places…and the parents of the puppies in those stores spend their lives in little crates never to see the light of the day or feel a soft human touch.

But, that does not mean you can’t surprise a loved one with a furry friend this season… Just look up a local shelter or animal rescue and I guarantee they will have many pets looking to be home for Christmas. You can also go to www.petfinder.com where you can put in the kind of pet your are looking for, your zip code and it will search their huge database of rescue organizations to find you what you are looking for – it is that easy!


And, yes, there are puppies and yes, there are purebreds… But, truthfully, I bet you fall in love with an older dog that is nothing but a mutt!

When you rescue a pet – I believe you rescue a part of yourself. Giving a dog a second chance – a forever home – something they never had before is reward in itself.

I recently got this link from one of my fellow rescuers and I think it is definitely worth sharing at Christmas… Sometimes people fail to see the potential in the dogs we rescue and if you were ever on the fence about why you should adopt and not shop for your pet – I think this will convince you of the power of love and second chances:

http://video.yahoo.com/watch/8668677

(Just copy and paste the URL - I couldn't get the link to work today! - I promise it is worth your two minutes!)


Please, if you decide you want your stocking filled by the chimney with something floppy eared or with long whiskers – adopt this holiday season and give a pet the gift of a family.

The pictures above are of Thorp - the dog I rescued from an Amish Puppy Mill... Those are his before and afters. Take a look at the video if you want to see more true heartwarming makeovers.

Truths: The Company Christmas Party

Aaahhh… This weekend marks my husband’s company Christmas Party. There aren’t many like this one anymore. Hosted at the Grand Geneva in Lake Geneva, WI – it is a high class event – practically free to everyone – the food is outstanding and the bar stays open all night!

Many of the party goers will arrive tonight – to prime themselves for what will be, for most, a big drinking weekend. It will start for many at the waterpark where employees’ families will gather, watch their kids frolic in the water and play cards – chugging back a few beers – with the intent not too have too many because the party is tomorrow night. (that doesn’t seem to always work)

Because the party is so big – about 500 guests – the company gets an amazing room rate at what really is a 5 star hotel. It would be hard to pass it up – especially since no one wants to drive home.

Tonight will be laid back and fun - in anticipation of Saturday. The regulars will hang together, the kids will scream and all will be good.

Tomorrow morning the majority of the people will rise with only a slight headache and make plans for what to do to pass the time before the party. Some will go into town to shop or eat lunch and some will say, “to Hell with it” and go back to the waterpark - and some will do all three and start drinking – those are the few who usually don’t make it to the party.

But the real fun is tomorrow night.

See, I have been going to these parties for 16 years and Bill has been going to them for 30 – we are definitely seasoned. Between the two of us – we have seen it all. And, okay, been a part of some of the craziness at one point or another.

I have lost my shoes, gotten lost on my way back to the room, “borrowed” decorations from the hotel for our room party… (nothing big – just a few reindeer and Christmas trees)… I am certain I said things to people I should have never said and danced in ways that were inappropriate - and yes, I reluctantly admit – I am sure I have puked and passed out at one or two of them… Maybe at the same time.

And while I don’t think Bill has ever lost his shoes – I am confident that he has done all of the rest.

No, not everyone drinks like we do… I don’t know what those people do – because they don’t stay long at the party and tend to keep their distance from people like us.

But we drink and we watch other people drink and we all do things that we shouldn’t.

One of the interesting parts of the evening is seeing what people wear – and boy do they wear everything. From jeans and sweaters to full length gowns to mini dresses barely covering any skin.

In my 16 years – I have always worn a different dress. I have done the holiday green, the slinky black bare back, the shimmery silver and even threw in a bridesmaid dress – to get good use out of it.

This year – I turned more practical… I tried on 25 dresses – all different styles and while mostly black – some color – and when it came right down to it – I picked the most simple one. Maybe its because I am turning 40 and it just seemed like the right thing to do… It covered the tops of my arms (which I don’t find very flattering) and fit perfect – no alterations this year – and it was $100. Oh, and most importantly – it was a size 6. Honestly, I think that is what it was. Maybe it was mismarked – but I went with it anyway. Most of the others were 8’s and hey, it’s the little things that make us happy, right?

I did try on a beautiful, full length, black and white dress – I did love it but it was $400.00. I have spent close to that before – but it seemed ridiculous to me this year. Again, showing my age – I couldn’t rationalize the cost. There are a lot more things I would rather do with $400 (remodel the kitchen…paint the house…put in a new floor…) and the truth is – I am happily married – while I want to look great for Bill – I certainly don’t have to parade around in a $400 dress to do it.

When I told the nice, young girl which of the dresses I chose, she looked so disappointed. It took me back a bit – but then I figured she is 22 years old and I am soon 40 and I have reached a point in my life – where I will no longer be selecting dresses that are cool… I made my purchase and left… Happy, feeling a bit aged, and thrilled that it was a size 6.

So, anyway, there will be people of all sizes and shapes wearing all sorts of things and that will be fun to watch… but the real fun comes later – after everyone has had a few drinks and the true meaning of a Company Christmas party takes shape… when people get drunk and start doing and saying things they will only regret on Sunday.

There will be the employees who decide this is the best time to tell their boss how they really feel. They will have the courage to ask why they didn’t get a raise – or how soon it will be before they get a promotion. Some will literally shed tears about the unhappiness in their lives and how they love their job so much.

Some will makes passes at fellow employees or employees’ spouses because it seems like the right thing to do… others will dance like no one is watching and a few will pass out at the table.

Truthfully, I love it…

But, Bill and I did make one pact: no one will let the other get stuck talking to someone for more than 15 minutes – unless they give the sign that they are okay. Because when people drink – they talk incessantly… and that prevents me from getting another drink or going to the bathroom – both of which I do a lot of after 6pm.

I suggested that we make a list of people who it would be acceptable to talk to for long periods of time… I had three: Monica, Debbie and Steph – these three are my really good friends – so if I am talking to them it is either important or fun or we are holding each other up – or holding each other’s hair up while we puke… We are those kinds of friends and those kind of friends don’t need talk time limits.

Bill didn’t really have anyone he felt he could talk all night to – so we figured out what sign language we would use and promised each other rescue.

Tomorrow will be a blast… I just hope I am not the one with big regrets on Sunday – or a massive hangover that prevents me from finishing up decorating for the holidays…

‘Tis the season to (drink) and be merry!

Truths: There is a hole in the ceiling…Dear Liza, Dear Liza…

So, where do I even start? I swear they don’t even make comedy shows this good anymore.

Let’s see… Remember the furnace that didn’t work last week? Well, that actually turned out quite well. All we needed was to replace the batteries and scrub off the battery acid that had decayed in the thermostat. All of which – I am proud to report I did.

The drain in the master bath did not go so well. And, lets be honest – should it? Has it not become standard operation around here for things to go wrong…really wrong?

There have been days when I struggled with what to blog about – apparently those days are over!

Yeah, the drain which my husband has bandaided for the last two years decided that a bandaid would no longer do the trick. God forbid – it was time to call a plumber!

Of course that didn’t go easy either. I got a referral from Carol and made the call. But, that plumber was going out of town for the week – so he had to give me another name… Luckily, he agreed to come out. He could have come out Saturday morning – but that wouldn’t work for me…because I had to scrub the entire bathroom before he could step foot in it.

It would have been terribly embarrassing for anyone to walk in our bathroom. I don’t know if I said it before – but I hate housecleaning – and I really despise cleaning bathrooms.

So, instead of the plumber coming Saturday – I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the entire bathroom floor to ceiling. If it weren’t for the fact that drain is leaking into the kitchen ceiling – I would have to say that the bathroom never looked better.

But, lets slow down.

We also decided that this was the weekend we would put up Christmas decorations. Its one of those things that once it is done – you sigh and look lovingly at how your house was transformed into a Hallmark card. But – somewhere between then and getting out the boxes is more like a living Hell.

By Sunday – with the boxes half unpacked, we watched football all day – drank beer and then took it upon ourselves to start putting up the outside lights – in the dark. Our hands were shaking as we saw our breath in the crisp air – Crisp, I mean more like freezing. Crisp is what they would say in poetry – this was not poetry.

At one point, Bill said, “I hate doing this with every passion I have… I hate it!”

But, I make him do it anyway – because that is what we do at Christmas… String lights 10 stories up and pray no one falls off the ladder.

Needless to say we got about half way through when we shook our heads in disgust and gave up and returned to the couch for some Sunday night football and a bowl of popcorn.

Yesterday morning, I had the pleasure of waking up to a house that looks like Santa puked in. Tissue paper, bows, lights, scattered around the floor. Boxes still stacked high and snowmen laying on the floor as though they drank too much the night before.

It was a disaster. And in a few hours the plumber would be coming. Good thing I cleaned that bathroom.

The plumber, Steve, weaved amongst the boxes in the foyer – to the kitchen where he assessed the situation. He managed to find his way around the snowmen and up to the bathroom (which really was sparkling clean) and knelt down by the shower drain as if to pray that I made all of this up.

Nope, it was broke… He described what was wrong and I shook my head as though I knew what he meant and then all I heard him say was, “I can do it for around $250.”

Sounded good to me.

Within minutes as I covered up the new stove with a towel – Steve was sawing the drywall kitchen ceiling and I was having a panic attack. I had just cleaned the whole kitchen – every cabinet, every drawer and now there would be more drywall dust.

I went back into the living room where I sank down into the sofa and wanted to scream or cry or both.

Surrounded by mountains of red and green, UPS boxes and drunken snowmen – and now a hole in my kitchen ceiling – all just in time for the holiday season!

Tails: The reward of rescuing a reject

I was lying in bed this morning – and like everyday for the first ten minutes I am awake – I was snuggling with our dogs – all 4 of them and many times all three of the cats. All seven of them lie on the bed and relish the quiet moment of being spoiled.

Today as Penelope and Thorp lay on my chest and lie their heads up by mine – I couldn’t help but look deep into their eyes and recall how far they have come.

Both puppy mill dogs – rescued at an Amish dog auction. Both survivors of neglect and abuse. They came with scars I thought would never go away.

Thorp came first. I never intended to take home a dog that day…but when I saw him cowering in his cage yet eager for someone to love him… He slowly made his way to the front of the cage as I whispered to him. With utter fear and caution, he inched his way forward and gently licked my hand. I was taken and I took him home for $60.00.

Penelope came second. It was my third auction and I already knew before going that I would rescue a dog. Weeks before the auction I chose her from the auction list. Number 141. Sight unseen, I knew I loved this dog.

Both of them suffered from neglect and lack of vet care and both needed numerous medical procedures. Beyond the physical imperfections came emotional wounds that would take years to heal.

They were scared and unsocial – never had seen grass or stairs or had been held or given affection. They shook at the sight of people and their first reaction was to run. They took shelter in their crates as if it was the safest place in the house – because that was all they had known.

They lacked potty training skills and even today – have a few accidents.

But today as they clung to me – eager for attention and love – it is no mystery that they have succeeded.

The other day a friend asked me to find her the perfect dog. I laughed and said, “There are no perfect dogs.” And then she said, “Well, then a really, really good one.” And I laughed again and said, “The dogs I know aren’t like that – they all have issues that need time to be worked through.” And then I walked away.

It probably seemed cold what I said… But, people always want me to find them some perfect dog – just the right color, just the right size, the right sex and if that weren’t enough – it has to obedient, yet fun, lovable but not needy and of course, potty trained.

Yeah, right.

The dogs I know who need homes certainly will never meet all of those expectations. And, should they have to?

How many people do any of us know who are perfect? We might know people who think they are perfect – but we know different.

Why should a dog be held to any other standards?

I guess what I want people to know is that there is something special about rescuing a reject. Taking in a dog for no other reason but to love them unconditionally. Accepting that they have issues they need to work through and taking the time and being patient as they do.

Thorp has gone on to be a certified therapy dog who is now looking for work and while Penelope doesn’t have any certifications – she is a very well-adjusted, happy dog.

Along the trials and tributes of rescuing them – there is no doubt that I and my family was rescued too. We learned the true meanings of love and acceptance. We learned that it takes more than a bowl of food and a fenced in yard to have a dog – it takes courage and faith and an unconditional kind of love that you never knew you had in you until you were rewarded with the affection of a dog.

Truths: Life is not so simple

So, we have been in FL visiting my parents for Thanksgiving. We got back late Tuesday night because our flight was delayed and sat on a plane where we felt like sardines. But we arrived home and passed out.

Yesterday, was Abby’s birthday. So, I awoke, to a now 12 year old, panicked about what she was going to wear to school.

I also woke up to a broken furnace and a leak in the kitchen ceiling coming from the master bath shower.

I got the emotional adolescent off to school – she could barely contain herself to see her locker which was going to be decorated by her best friends and I could barely open my eyes and face what was going to be my day…

While I was in FL, my grandma ended up in the hospital – for what they thought was congestive heart failure. It turns out that she needed more medicine for her high blood pressure and to limit her salt intake.

Yesterday, I went to pick her up at the hospital where she was staying in the extended care unit. Basically that just means it is all old people who are being kept for observation before they let them go back home or ship them to a nursing facility.

In other words… it is a very depressing place.

If you have ever been to a nursing home – you can understand the smell that goes along with it. I have worked knee deep in animal shelters and still the stench made my stomach turn.

But, more upsetting than that – is the truth – there are all these elderly people – who are basically coming to the end of their lives. Some had strokes, others pneumonia, heart attacks, cancer… and while young people would be able to overcome those things with a hard fight – these people don’t have the fight in them.

My grandma will be 91 in a month. She had never been in the hospital before (except for chilbirth) and has been healthier than a horse. But when I saw her – it was as though she had aged 100 years. The vibrancy and the stamina had disappeared… Instead, she looked grey and weak and old.

I know that 91 is old – but for my whole life my grandma has been young. Always dolled up – boasting jewels and nylons and high heels. She never left the house without her make-up done and her hair curled. And, here she was - practically naked in a bed – without any of her things.

My grandma has always been hip – she knows that Sandra Bullock got divorced – she knows that Tiger Woods cheated – she knows that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston should have never got divorced!

She talks about sex and religion like it’s a cookie recipe and has always known how to shop like there is no tomorrow.

So, it is hard to see her become frail – to see her get old…

And it is really hard to face the fact that when we get old – we become so very alone. Almost all of the people in the hospital yesterday on her floor were alone. They didn’t have visitors. Who knows where their families were… or how long it had been since they saw them last.

They were all relying on the nurses to care for them – to treat them with dignity and respect and to make them comfortable.

One lady who shared my grandma’s room had had a bad stroke – and was literally reliant on a myriad of staff to care for her – she could barely speak – and couldn’t move but a finger.

It’s the kind of thing none of us want to think about: where we will be when we turn 90 – who will be around us and looking out for us when we have lost the ability to do it for ourselves…

After my grandma got dressed and while we were speaking to the discharge nurse – my grandma was trying to zipper her sweater. I watched for some time as she struggled – unsure of when to offer help… and then I finally just did and she was grateful.

And that is when it hit me the hardest – 30 plus years ago – my grandma probably zipped up my sweater – tied my shoes – helped me get in the car… and now it was my turn to do the same for her…I was happy that I could re-pay the act – but sad inside that it has come down to this.

There is no doubt that a lot of **** has gone wrong in my life these last few weeks… and while I have known all along that it was petty stuff – it has taken over my life and left me taking for granted the magnitude of life and death.

My daughter turned 12 yesterday and for the first time in my life I saw my grandma as 90 and I fall almost exactly in between… No longer a struggling adolescent, irresponsible 20 year old or a 30 year old woman trying to defy my age.

I turn 40 next month – and am coming to terms with aging. I am finding out that its not about what boy likes you or what click you belong to, its not about where you went to college or how drunk you got last night and its not about dress size or jean size or profession or what house you live in.

It is about who you have around you – who you love and who you take the time to help and what you do to make a difference in this world.

Its not that any one of us thought life was simple – its just that none of us ever think its going to be THIS hard.

Tails: It is not as black and white as a Dalmatian

Okay, so things in my house have settled down – but all around me are people screaming at the NFL for praising Michael Vick on his recent football successes.

For those of you who might live under a rock – a few years back Michael Vick was convicted of racketeering and sent to prison for 18 months. While the charge was officially racketeering – the truth was he was housing a dog fighting operation.

There are no good dog fighting operations – but Vick’s was really bad. There were rape tables to breed the dogs against their will, their were electrocutions, bait dogs, the females had all of their teeth removed so that they wouldn’t fight back while being bred – I think you get the picture.

Dogs were being mutilated for money at Michael Vick’s house and regardless of who you are – that should make you angry.

Well, it did make the entire Humane community upset. I can’t quite remember the exact number of dogs pulled from Vick’s house – but I believe that 46 of them were saved and sent to various rescues. 22 of them found homes at Best Friends Animal Society – some of which might spend their lives at the sanctuary because they are unadoptable due to the emotional scars (and some physical) from their tragic past.

Vick served his time – and is now playing for the Philadelphia Eagles. In fact, he is playing better than he ever has before – So good that he is setting NFL records and will be featured on the front cover of Sports Illustrated this week.

Which has spurred controversy - lots of it – in the animal rights community.

Now, every Sunday or Monday or even Thursday – I find a reason to bitch about Michael Vick and how the NFL should have never allowed him back into the league. To which my husband always counters with, “Well, there are players who have been accused and even found guilty of rape and drugs and the NFL lets them back in.”

True.

I think someone just commented that the NFL – should really stand for, “The National Felons League.” Sounds good to me.

It should also be said that above our new bar stands 12 bottles of wine – one for each of the Vick dogs rescued by Best Friends Animal Society. They offered them as a fundraising campaign -we could only afford to buy 12 of the 22. But, at any rate – they are now showcased at our bar along with the Sport Illustrated magazine that featured one of the Vick dogs on the cover and a story about what happened.

See, while our basement glows green and gold for the Packers – we thought it was important that any guest we had – know a bit about what Vick did.

Okay, more background… once Vick got out of prison – he found his way to the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS) where he serves as an ambassador for anti-dog fighting campaigns.

No, I don’t know if I support that or not.

But, anyway, people I know are mad about Vick being on the cover of SI. I guess it does make me mad – but this is how I have found some peace…

SI has done pieces on the dogs Vick had and has said in print what a horrible thing it was. SI reached people who might otherwise know nothing about dog fighting. One of SI’s editors, Jim Gorant, has written a book titled, “The Lost Dogs” which is all about what happened and where the dogs are today. Because a SI editor wrote it – there will, again, be people who pick up the book who otherwise wouldn’t.

Almost every time that Michael Vick has been interviewed for his NFL profession the issue of dog fighting is raised. Those interviews reach millions of people – millions of people are being made aware of the tragedy of dog fighting.

I am appalled at what Michael Vick did and personally, I could never forgive him. And, I could, for the rest of my life, bitch and moan about it every week during football season. But, the silver lining to it all – is that society is learning about the cruelty of dog fighting, they are learning that it exists all over the world and in every socio-economic level and amongst every demographic.

Each week when Vick plays – the world is reminded of what he did and it spurs conversation – more conversation than would have ever taken place.

It should have never happened in the first place. What Michael Vick did was an atrocity – a sick behavior that uses innocent creatures as fighting machines – dogs lost their lives in cruel ways and forgiving Michael Vick isn’t something most people in my circles could ever do… But, at the same time – his comeback of the century is also a billboard about dog fighting – a perpetual neon sign – reminding people about the horridness of dog fighting and the importance to end it.

I think we owe it to all of the dogs who lost their lives and the ones rescued still waiting to find good homes – to embrace what the media is giving us – a voice reaching millions of people every week about ending dog fighting – because isn’t that what's important, anyway?

Truths: Picking up the pieces

Well, as I write this – it is pouring rain outside. And normally that wouldn’t bother me – but we placed about 25 bags worth of giveaway stuff outside. Yes, it is under our front porch – but not exactly 100% safe from the elements. Just my luck, right?

And, it didn’t seem to start raining until I worked up the ambition to take the dogs for a run. 100 steps into it – the rain came tumbling down. Should I expect anything less?

The truth is – things are getting better. Amongst the chaos and conundrum of everything – I am learning to find the bright side. Is there really any other choice?

Twenty five bags sit outside and an entire dumpster filled – certainly that must be a sign that the crap in my life is literally leaving. The closets are emptier, the garage neater and overall, our life is starting to seem lighter.

As my husband and I stared at the tires stacked up in the garage from his previous sports car – I laughed. Thinking of how just months ago – they were sitting in our basement along with a fur lined couch and stinky litter boxes.

Now, the basement shines – with massive TV’s and a reupholstered sofa and meticulously placed Packer pictures. Our life is obviously improving.

The kitchen cabinets are completely cleaned out. Every crevice washed, every dish steamed dry. At the time it all seemed like a huge pain in the ass – but as I wiped the last pan – I realized – this was the kitchen I wanted to start my new hobby of cooking. I know where everything is and everything is organized and clean and ready to go to work.

Perhaps, it was all just meant to be.

They say (whoever “they” are”) that things have to be messy before they can be clean – and well, I guess that is what my life was these last few weeks. A mess.

Maybe it was just to make me appreciate when it would be better. When the piles would be gone and the boxes taken away.

Sigh.

The TV’s work and the appliances have either squeezed their way into their space or have grown accustom to where they sit and all is right with the Monroe household.

Other things have piled up in the meantime – housecleaning (you know where you actually remove dirt from the floor and not just boxes) – laundry… But those, too will be done and life will return to a state of normalcy. And it will be a better normal than normal…

Of course, in the meantime, Christmas will be upon us and the hurriedness of the season will take over. The parties and the presents and the hangovers to go with all of it.

So, right now, for the next few days, I am going to enjoy the peace and quiet. I am going to relish the calm, the tranquil state of the house. I am going to admire the new basement and sit and watch Private Practice on the new TV and then start my “To Do” list again.

Truths: What the Hell happened?

Well, I am taking a break right now. I have to – my sanity depends on this blog dragging me up out of this overwhelming temptation to just run away to a deserted island and hide under a palm tree with a fruity cocktail in my hand.

Or at least somewhere other than where I am.

Instead I wait for Best Buy’s Geek Squad to show and hook up the TV and speakers and explain to me in 5 minutes or less how it all works so that I can spend the rest of my life explaining it to my husband.

Deep breath…

Yep, I am waiting for yet another service call at my house. The Direct TV guy, Ken, did come back on Saturday and after another hour or so – fixed the problem and we now have internet (thank God) and phone. There was, for a few hours, a total sense of uncomfortable isolation from the world – but thanks to him the phone is ringing and the emails flocking in.

However, as I wait for the Geek Squad to show up at my door – any minute now… It has been all day. I am knee deep, no make the head deep, in chaos. I don’t know what happened to my life in the last few months – but I feel like someone took it and gave me this continuum of disasters – one right after the other – leaving my house looking like a tornado just blew through.

Let me brief you on what I am talking about:

The basement is sky high in boxes… Green Bay Packer memorabilia packed away from before I think I was even alive. CD’s stacked as high as me – screaming, “You don’t even listen to me anymore.” Bottles of booze so old that they are now vintage. And of course, cartons of beer glasses and martini stems so dusty that it takes a squeegee to get them clean. That or just a shot of vodka to wipe them out… MMMM the vodka is still good.

Taking all of this “stuff” from the back of the basement also meant sorting passed all the other stuff we have accumulated in the 3 years we have waited to remodel the basement after the flood.

Okay, let me re-phrase that – that I (emphasis here) have accumulated. There I admit it and that is the first step.

So, as I gape at the basement which only days ago was sitting pristinely with its new hickory cabinets, custom woodwork, beautiful re-upholstered leather sectional – I find myself sick – because it is hard to recognize any of that now because it is covered in crap. (MY crap, of course!)

Again, sigh…

So, all of this crap begs the age old question, “Do you think it is time to give some stuff away?”

Yeah, Duh!

But seriously, it is. And that is when things get hard. Why is that? Why, when you come across some old silk plant that hasn’t seen the light of day in years – do you say to yourself, “Oh, but maybe that would look good in the kitchen window – after we repaint and get new cabinets.” Yeah because first off when are you going to repaint and get new kitchen cabinets and second when you do – are you really going to stick some old musty silk plant in the new window?” That is what I thought.

Then there are the things you always intended to give as gifts but liked them so much you couldn’t bare to part with them. This even goes for gift bags and cute boxes that are just “too cute” to actually use. I would have normally felt ridiculous saying that – but my friend, Nancy, was over Sunday and admitted to doing the same thing!

I called one of those charities that for some unknown reason agree to take all of your stuff away for free. No, maybe not everything, but almost everything. They are coming with a truck on Monday.

In the meantime, Bill called a waste company and they are coming tomorrow with a dumptser. Looks like the Monroe’s are serious about doing a clean sweep.

But see – none of that was in the cards for us. Nope, this is the time we should just be setting up the bar and the basement and downing a few beers in celebration that we completed the remodel. We should be getting ready for our first party not packing boxes and getting nostalgic about old toys.

Ugh – why does this stuff happen? What part of remodel means re-construct your whole life?

At the same time – I am cleaning out all of the kitchen cabinets and washing all of the dishes and pans and pots and silverware and whatever else you can shove in a drawer or on a shelf because as some of you might remember – Bill had to saw through concrete to get that damn sink to fit and well, that makes a fricking mess – and that fine dust is still sitting on everything we own.

So, there are boxes in the hallway, enough cardboard in the garage that could fuel a bonfire for days, green and gold garb stretched along the basement walls waiting to be hung up, booze bottles littering the floor and bags of give away stuff lining doorways waiting to ship out… and at the same time my dishwasher is going 24/7 washing kitchen accessories and my counter covered with more.

At the same time that we “moved” into the basement – we also lost some of the furniture we were using in the family room and eating area. Never steal from Peter to pay Paul (or something like that) so, that meant Abby and I would spend 2 hours re-arranging those two rooms with the new furniture we got from the garage.

Every thing that I know is turned upside down right now. None of which I expected. The boxes are growing and the dust only starting to settle and my sanity thrown out the window…

And did I mention that I have started Christmas shopping? Yep, those boxes are sitting in the living room – one of the two rooms that are doored off to the rest of the house – two rooms that are pet free, people free but even they have been exposed to the plague of brown cardboard and in a little corner I see some green and gold. Damn the Packers!

Truths: If it can go wrong, it will.

OMG – do we have sucker written on our faces or what? My life has been nothing but mishaps and disappointments in the last few weeks – no, actually a month!

From stoves and sinks to TV’s and now Direct TV and a fridge.

Let me start with the fridge. It was delivered yesterday. The fridge that led to the new stove that doesn’t fit and now needs to be customized. That led to the stainless sink that didn’t fit and my husband needed to saw through the concrete and now the fridge.

Two nice men came to the door – and asked to see where it would go – the new shiny, pretty stainless steel fridge – the completion to the set. The one appliance we actually needed – and of course, the one we waited for the longest.

I suddenly remembered that I never cleaned out the old fridge – which now grew with mold. Ooops… But what the Hell right? It is just going in a landfill to ruin the environment – might as well add something organic to the mix.

Anyway, with some struggle they removed the old fridge, breaking off the handles and dropping it on the driveway… and the new one entered the house. It was like the Oscars with the actors and actresses walking down the red carpet. The anticipation of what they were wearing…

And again, with some struggle they found the fridge its new home and it seemed, unbelievable, without a scratch.

Oh yeah, somewhere in between the old one going out and the new one coming in – I managed to scrub the inch of filth off the floor – throw out one of Abby’s Picassos and re-read a report card from 1st grade…

The spot was shiny and the fridge shiny and everything was shiny – for a little while.

As the nice man hooked up the water line – all of our power in the house went out. (I later learned that our whole side of the street’s power went out) I thought maybe he had plugged in the fridge and blew a circuit – but no, someone must have hit an electric pole instead of a squirrel and saved a life – ruining mine in the balance.

No, it is not the worse thing in the world. I know that – but with the power out – that meant that they wouldn’t be able to run the water line or make sure that the fridge even works. And we all know – that with my luck – the fridge won’t work and Best Buy won’t take it back.

I signed the delivery paper and made the man note on the paperwork that we were unable to run the fridge due to a power outage. I know he thought I was crazy but based on the last few weeks of my life – I trust nothing. It has become a very jaded world for me.

Since we didn’t have power, we didn’t have a phone so I texted a picture of the new fridge to my husband – it was sitting in its new home – looking sexy and most importantly – fitting in its space.

That is until my husband called and said, “Have you tried to open the cabinets above the fridge?”

Uh… no…. and while on the phone with him – I attempted what should have been an easy task – and to no avail. The front of the fridge is higher that than the back and even though it fits – the cabinet doors cannot open.

Are you kidding me? Well, the truth of the matter is that whatever is in those cabinets is there because I never use it – so does it matter? And if I decided I do use any of it – I can change it out – and replace it with my cookbooks because I never use those!

Okay, one thing down… and while not perfect compared to the rest of the mishaps – not too bad.

At 3pm the Direct TV installer, Ken, shows up. Now don’t forget that the power is still out… when I tell him he cringes wondering how he will be able to complete the installation but shrugs it off and says, “Let’s take a look at where everything is going.”

Now before I get too carried away with a story that makes me cry and will make you laugh – lets refresh all of our brains and state that the guy who sold us on Direct TV told us that everything would be easy. No big deal…and then finished with, “just sign here on the dotted line.”

We were glazed over that night with the mere thought of purchasing the biggest TV we have ever owned and envisioning the football games we would watch while snacking on chips and drinking cold beer from our new bar. Getting the magic NFL ticket from Direct TV was a dream come true….

Or so we thought.

Should I be surprised that things didn’t go all that smooth?

So, I showed Ken the current location of the Comcast box – which started us down the path of everything that could go wrong would. At first it was that we had internet and phone with Comcast and he would have to cut the box… then he decided because it was wireless –it would could be done and he could bypass the system.

Few, one down…a hundred more to go.

Next was the fact that our old house was wired with the wrong cable lines. Apparently, what they don’t tell you when you sign on the dotted line is that your cabling needs to be up to date. And while Direct TV might have the NFL ticket they do not have the capability to run on some R59 cable.

Once Ken found all of the wrong cable in our house, he proceeded to explain that he could run all new cable – some of which would start on one side of our house and then loop over the roof, the garage, against the side of the house until it would find its way to the new Direct TV box. This pattern would be repeated one other time – all for the low, low price of a $1.00 a foot.

A call to my husband.

We want the NFL package, right?

Of course we do.

Next came the problem that all of the TVs in the basement weren’t hooked up. That would be a problem programming them with the Direct TV.

Okay, well, Best Buy informed us that they didn’t want to come out to set up the TVs until the Direct TV was installed. It is kind of like the age old proverb, “What came first the chicken or the egg?”

That one, as far as I know, has never been solved and this dilemma wouldn’t be either.

As Ken strung yards of cable around our house like lights on a Christmas tree – my husband came home in-time to hook up the TVs. You can imagine our struggle – after once having a broken TV and Best Buy refusing to replace it.

We wanted the Geek Squad to hook it up – so they would be liable. But life doesn’t work the way you plan and so we ever so carefully took this giant TV out of the box – while holding our breath and praying to the TV gods that this time we were going to get lucky.

Well, you can breathe now – because it did work and that part of the night was okay. Finally, we caught a break.

But, that break would last about as long as wave crashing on a beach… Ken came to tell us that the most important TV – this beauty that we just unloaded from the box – only had that crazy R59 cable running to it and so it wouldn’t work with the HD system.

Sigh, tears…

And it only gets better… That whole part of the house is finished and it backs up to a concrete wall – so there is no good or easy way to solve the problem. We will need a very experienced and ambitious electrician.

It was like Christmas morning where you open the biggest box, hoping for the best present ever, only to find that its underwear and that was the last box Santa had t o use.

It was 9pm now (Ken got there at 3pm, remember) and while the 6 hours was filled with problems and disappointments – it was coming to an end. Now we would just have to figure out how to use the remote and find a number to call the best electrician out there.

Ken left, we ate pizza and all crawled to bed. Another messed up day at the Monroe house.

But, HA – even though the sun has rose and I wake to embrace a new day – I am left to discover that Ken never bypassed the Comcast system – no he cut the cable – leaving us without phone service – which wouldn’t be the end of the world – but tore us away from life’s precious gift: the internet!

As I type this – I am crying inside and waiting to call Ken…

Truths: “Best Buy” proves “Bad day”

Okay, so the saga at my house continues… Bill and I ventured to Best Buy in McHenry on Friday night – armed with our wallets and new Best But credit card and our hearts set on some new TV’s for our new basement.

When I arrived (doesn’t everyone go to the store in two cars?) Bill was already being hypnotized by the Direct TV salesman who was promising he could beat the price we pay for Comcast and give us better service. None of the really mattered – the real fact is that Direct TV is the only TV provider that offer the NFL ticket. And with a new basement dedicated to being an in-home sports bar – we had to have the NFL ticket. How embarrassing it would be if we had an entire 1200 square feet dedicated to the Green Bay Packers but weren’t able to watch a game?

At any rate, Bill had basically agreed to signing over our first born (we don’t have any kids together but you get the point) and I was left to fill out all of the paperwork and pay for the “great deal” we were getting. I have to admit that giving less of our money to Comcast did feel good.

Well, a half hour later and we were introduced to Jared. A nice sales specialist who was more than happy to sell us a TV. No, he really was nice and in the end spent about 3 hours with us – going through all of the TVs and sound systems and explaining to me how I would be able to listen to Pandora through my new Bosse speakers. It seemed like a dream come true.

Sure Bill and I, at one point, almost justified spending a whole lot of money on a 5” bigger TV (no jokes here, please)…But, in the end we “settled” on a 60”. And yes, I do believe, at some point, my husband was salivating. This was the part of the basement he had been waiting for all along. The Packers on a 60” TV – on any given Sunday.

300 minutes later and whole lot more money poorer and we left Best Buy – dreaming of our Super Bowl party.

That was Friday… on Sunday Bill decided to unwrap his precious 32” TV for over the bar. The 60” wouldn’t be installed for another week. He was like a kid at Christmas. – Totally excited that by 7pm he would be watching the Packers play Dallas at his new bar. (That yes, is already stocked with cold beer)

Well, like Christmas when Santa decides you haven’t cleaned your room all year, Bill’s Christmas came to a halt. The TV was missing a part to connect to its base. I could feel the disappointment from across the room – where I was washing down the furniture. (he was playing with his toys…)

So, that began a turn of events that even Michael Moore would want to make a documentary about…

Just to set the scene – remember that we bought everything on Friday at the Best Buy in McHenry.

So, Abby had a soccer game in Algonquin – we decided to return the TV there and get a new one. We went there – they were happy to exchange it but they didn’t have the TV – the store in West Dundee did. So, we drove an extra 15 minutes and picked up the TV there.

You can bet that we opened the box and made sure it had all of the parts and then headed right home to set it up. We still had a few hours before the big game.

We opened the box, Bill hooked it up and there we stood looking at the TV – wondering what the two large blobs of blue were. Yep, they were cracks right up the front of the screen. You couldn’t see them unless the TV was on.

Could this really be happening?

So, as we do almost every Sunday – we went for pizza in Crystal Lake and decided we would return the TV there (our 4th Best Buy in two days). We walked into Customer Service and that is when things got really ugly… Michael Moore ugly.

The customer service girl got the manager who told us in no compassionate way – that there was nothing he could do. I expressed quite vocally the amount of money we spent on Friday and he really didn’t care.

Bill decided that foul language would bring us the results we needed – but instead the Manager, Aaron A. (A must have been for asshole) kicked us out of the store! I wish I were kidding but I am not!

Here we are two middle aged, professional people – being escorted like criminals out of the Crystal Lake Best Buy. And if that were insulting enough – Aaron says, “Have a great day.”

Of course Bill responded – but we won’t repeat what he said.

Now, you can only imagine what we were feeling. Frustration doesn’t even cover it… Out raged – enraged – furious - . If shooting people wasn’t illegal…

We got in a car and sped to the McHenry Best Buy. At the time, we didn’t even think – we just got in the car – hoping beyond hope that Jared would be there and make this all right.

We walked into the store and headed right to the TV’s – I spotted the manager Jason who had helped us Friday night and basically, in tears, unloaded on him everything that happened in the last 6 hours – and I believe that I said it all in two minutes.

I was gasping for air and Jason was saying, “It is okay… calm down…we can fix this.”

At the same time, Bill found Jared and was frantically expressing the last few hours of our life… and Jared was saying, “Bill, it is okay, we can fix this.”

And that is what Jared and Jason did – they fixed it all. In 15 minutes, we were leaving the store with our new TV – that we plugged in to make sure it worked. We were breathing again and not feeling like dirt or criminals but the decent people we really are.

Jared and Jason saved us from insanity that day and they saved the reputation of Best Buy. Had that gone any different – everything that we purchased on Friday would have been returned.

But, Jared and Jason did what was right. It might not have been policy – but they used their own judgment and treated a good customer with respect and dignity and trust.

And along the way they did manage to say that they have had complaints about the Crystal Lake store before. I guess Aaron A. (asshole) isn’t just an ass to us.

Of course, being the person I am – it will come as no surprise to anyone that Monday morning I spent 2 hours writing letters and sending emails to the general manager of the Crystal Lake store, the general manager of the McHenry store, corporate Best Buy and of course, a personal letter to Aaron A.:

Dear Aaron,

Since you were so concerned with our situation on Sunday, November 7 – we thought it was important to share how it ended.

After you so politely kicked us out of your store, we drove to the McHenry Best Buy and spoke with their manager, Jason. Instead of agitating my husband and allowing the situation to escalate – Jason took the time to listen to our frustration and used his managerial skills to calm us.

And, after realizing that we have spent over ****** at Best Buy in just the last month (******* of it at YOUR store), he knew the right thing to do was replace the broken TV. With in 20 minutes, we left the store with our new TV and once again felt like respectable human beings unlike leaving your store where we were treated like dirt and made to feel like criminals.

Aaron, you should re-consider being the manager of any store. You do not possess the ability to work with people and instead of addressing the situation at hand and overcoming the conflict – you choose the easy way out and force good customers right out the front door, slamming it behind them so they have no reason to return.

Best Buy should be ashamed to have chosen you for a manager and should realize that you are a liability to their image.

And as you so insultingly put it Sunday night, “Have a great day!”

Sincerely,

The Monroes

While I was eager to express my anger and disappointment with the way we were treated – after spending 10 years in Human Resources, I also know the importance of sharing compliments – when people do a good job… So, I made sure to include in all of my correspondence the outstanding job Jared and Jason did.

So, it has been a Hell of a couple weeks for the Monroe household. First the fridge broke, then the stove didn’t fit, then the sink wouldn’t go in and now the TV didn’t work and Aaron A. at the Crystal Lake Best Buy kicked us out of the store… Seriously, you would think that we would just high tail it out of the country, right?

I have said it before in my blogs – but the important part of all of this is that I am happy I get to share these horrific mishaps with my husband. After all the sweat and tears – it still comes down to us – making each other laugh and smile when it is all over – which we did when we finally sat down on the couch and watched the Packer- Cowboy game on our old, reliable TV in the family room!

Truths: “A” what?

It happened – I don’t know how… but Abby brought home her report card and written near the top it said, “Congratulations, you made high honor roll.”

Now to some parents that would be expected – something to read aloud and then put away – perhaps atop all of the other report cards that read the same way.

But in our house – that is not the case.

Abby isn’t slow, she doesn’t have a learning disability and has always done okay in school academically. I am proud to say that socially the teachers have always liked her and commended her for being kind and helpful and respectful.

We lived on those attributes for the last 6 years – saying that we were grateful to have raised a daughter who was those things – and that allowed us to accept that she was not going to be U of Illinois material. (Okay, these are things I struggled with… I spend my time writing for a living – how could my daughter be unable to complete a sentence. Why is it that I, at 10 years old, wrote pages of creative writing and she could barely complete a paragraph on her favorite summer vacation?)

Yes, I struggled and silently convinced myself that none of that mattered. Abby possessed what was important – the skills to be a good and gracious human being. Those, of course, are what matter on the road of life…

But, really deep down – I had aspirations for her – going to U of I – pledging my sorority – doing everything that I did… Because that is what parents do – want what they enjoyed for their children. (Okay, maybe I don’t want Abby to embark down everything I did… I had a lot of fun in college…) but I wanted to go down for parents weekend and visit her at my alma mater)

For the last two years we have toyed with the idea o f going down to Champaign for a football game so Abby could start to get the Illini bug… to see the campus and be mesmerized with the college spirit. Start ‘em young right? Brainwash them – make them feel like there is nowhere else they would rather be…

It’s sick, yes…but reality is that way.

But, with Abby being an average student – well, it almost seemed cruel. To set her heart on a school that academically would be a great feat for her… To set her up for failure – well, that was never part of the plan.

So, we stalled – we didn’t go to the games and we didn’t say much about the school – even though she already began to want to go there.

I am an honest parent and I tend to treat Abby as an adult and tell it like it is… so when she has brought up going to U of I – I have bluntly explained that she would need to pick up her grades and take school seriously – because to get in – she has to be in the top of her class.

I never said it meanly – I just wanted her to know that to have aspirations must also mean setting goals for yourself.

Usually, she would shrug her shoulders and walk away. And I would get out my college scrapbook and re visit my younger days – when late nights and skipped classes were my aspirations!

Abby started jr, high this year – and as far as we can tell – has done a fabulous job making the transition. It has been seamless and unbelievably – she has become so responsible and so much more interested in doing well in school.

She gets her homework done without constantly being told to do it – she keeps great notes and organizes her schoolwork. She keeps a calendar full of dates when things are due. I have no idea what happened – but somehow, along the way, she grew up.

That became amazingly true when she brought home her report card yesterday and it read, “Congratulations, you have made the high honor roll.”

I read it in disbelief. I re-checked that it was her name at the top of the paper – re-checked the grades and the teacher comments and basically sat gaping at my daughter’s report card – wondering what they did with Abby.

I am still wondering…

But, of course, I am elated. Sure I have pulled up the college application on the web and thought about printing it out to place on her desk as a reward… a motivation…

Or maybe I could buy her an ILLINI sweatshirt or a Gamma Phi Beta one as she journey’s toward MY dream… MY legacy.

It’s a hard choice right now – what to say – or how to say to her that we are so proud of her. I mean sure those words are easy – but do we load them with other expectations – glimpses of possibilities now?

No, probably not. We tell her how proud we are – what an amazing job she did and we leave it at that – we continue to do whatever it is that we have done to get her to here and we hang the report card on the fridge to show her it is important.

And okay… we subtly mention that we are getting tickets to next year’s homecoming game…

Truths: Happiness when you least expect it

So, Saturday was our sink saga – and what was supposed to be a few hour project (I thought 20 minutes) became all day. But my daughter didn’t forget that we promised to carve pumpkins… because as she put, “We have NEVER carved pumpkins for Halloween and you said we would.”

Let me add that we have carved pumpkins before – no not every year but in years passed we have. I just wanted to make that clear. And if it matters, we ALWAYS go to the pumpkin patch to get them. What we have NEVER done is buy them at the store as an after thought. I know some people might and there are lots of things I buy at Walmart and Jewel but pumpkins are not one of them. I LOVE fall (Halloween I could take or leave) but fall… Our house is always decked out with corn stalks and mums and lots of pumpkins (just not ALWAYS carved) and scarecrows and black cats… Seriously, if it were acceptable, I would always have these things up all year. (Which I know would be about as white trash as the sink still sitting in my yard.)

Anyway, amongst the stress of our sink project gone bad – we took a deep breath, ordered a pizza and lugged in the cold pumpkins from outside. We took the box from the sink and cut it open and spread it on the table. (it was good to know that some part of the sink was going to get used).

We got out the knives and the pumpkin carving kit – which consisted of traceable designs (all of which were made for pumpkin carving professionals) and tiny little razor blades – did the box even come with an age appropriate designation? I am not sure it was even safe for me to use.

Abby found her design right away and I decided to take on one of the more professional ones of an owl in a tree… of course Bill was going to make a big G for the Green Bay Packers.

We had the music playing and the knives cutting and somewhere in the middle of it all – while I was silently questioning this ridiculous break from the job at hand: the sink – Abby said, “This is the happiest I have ever been – I love this night!”

Wow, right? When your almost 12 year old daughter speaks those words – it is hard not to be taken back – not to both be proud of the person you created and ashamed that you don’t take more time to do such simple things.

Take away the Wii, the iphone, the Disney channel and who knew these kids could still be happy? In fact, the happiest they have ever been.

As I traced my owl and heard her words, I smiled – not just an outward smile – but deep inside – I think I smiled with my heart. To know that this hour long, practically free, project brought my daughter such genuine happiness – I doubt I could have felt any better.

As I gulped down that feeling you have as a parent when you realize that somewhere between the laundry and the bills and everything else – you forgot to enjoy your kids and then, as I sighed, quietly, praising myself for my loyalty to doing this project – I was interrupted –

“Ow, I just cut my finger…OOOHHH it hurts, its bleeding… I need a band aid… I can’t do it anymore… It hurts… MOM!!!”

Yep, in an instant the pure emotional bliss I was feeling was slashed away - just like my daughter’s finger. That pure enjoyment felt only moments before was obliterated.

Bill tended to Abby’s finger as I continued work on my owl – laughing at myself for ever believing that we were having a Hallmark moment…Dreading the drama that would soon transpire instead.

Yeah, the drama started… but it settled fast and Abby quickly went back to work on her pumpkin – even doing a second.

It was just a speed bump on our yellow brick road that night… The elation lasted and 5 pumpkins came to life as we all celebrated our artistic creations.

It does pay to stop and smell the roses or in our case dig into the guts of a pumpkin and find solace in playing with sharp objects – but truthfully, we created a real family memory on Saturday night and that has certainly given me both the inspiration and aspiration to do it again…soon.


(I should add that my owl, who looks just like the picture – is unrecognizable to all who see it… Is that the letter “b” they ask… Oh well, I should stick to the old reliable pumpkin face next time!)

Truths: Everything AND the Kitchen Sink

So, if you have kept up with the blog – you know by now that my kitchen has become my enemy. The place I was hoping to turn into my sanctuary – this haven for a new hobby (cooking) has revolted against me. And for every new appliance I attempt to put in it – war breaks out.

This weekend was no different.

My dear, loving husband humored me and agreed to replace the ugly green kitchen sink. (of course, I know that he did it for two reasons: 1) to prolong the kitchen remodel and 2) he undoubtedly loves me… and a lot - this I know is true after what transpired)

Thursday night we ventured out and shopped for a new sink hours after my endoscopy. (If you have never had one – they place a probe down your throat to examine your esophagus and stomach – they give you these amazing drugs that put you to sleep and cause you to forget everything about the procedure… They also tell you that you shouldn’t make any important decisions for the rest of the day… But a kitchen sink shouldn’t qualify, should it?)

After browsing two home improvement stores, we settled on a beautiful stainless steel model and found an equally beautiful faucet to go with it. You may notice that when I speak of kitchen items – I describe them as art – mostly because in my house they are art – not actual working pieces.

All along our journey I re-assured my husband that according to the Home Depot how to video – this should take about 20 minutes. The video was only 5 minutes so I was padding it. My husband smirked as he paid for the sink and the faucet and the putty and the sealant and the water hoses and the strainers and… you get the idea.

Saturday was sink day. Bill got right to it. Unhooking hoses, garbage disposal, cutting the seal around the old sink. It didn’t take long and the ugly green sink was sitting on our driveway for all the world to see… To see that we have lived with this ugly old sink all of this time and to know we were getting a new one. We were the Joneses this time. Keep up with us!

The old sink sat in the drive as the new one modeled itself atop the sparkling stove (that if you remember doesn’t fit in the space) The sink gleamed and awaited its new home.

However, it would not be moving in just yet.

Everything that happened next was NOT on the how to video… that is all I know. The disposal didn’t work with the new drains we bought – the water lines did not fit the new faucet and the absolute worst was that the sink did NOT fit in the hole where the old one did. (yes, we bought the same size sink…just like I bought the same size stove but…)

No, everything quickly fell apart. My husband started the project at 11am and now it was 5 and he had made 3 trips to Menards… Cussed many times and I am certain said a few things about me under his breath.

But it was 5 and we were hungry and we had promised Abby that we would carve pumpkins…so we took a break from what was pure insanity and ate our pizza and watched our Tivoed Modern Family Halloween episode and laughed. We really needed to laugh.

The pumpkin carving story I will save for tomorrow’s blog because it deserves its own.

Needless to say that once the carving was done – the plumber quit for the evening – staring at the hole that was too small and undoubtedly wondering why on Earth he ever married me.

Sunday morning came and Bill was up bright and early to cut through the ceramic tile countertop and two layers of plywood that were preventing the new sink from fitting in.

Saturday I had spent cleaning the house because we had friends coming over to trick or treat… or should I say the kids would trick or treat and the adults would drink a few beers – at any rate – people were coming over.

Well, my cleaning was for not because once the grinding wheel started the dust flew EVERYWHERE and every inch of our house became brushed with a fine tan film.

The dirt was flying and the saw cutting and the sink job that should have taken 20 minutes was now on 24 hours.

We took a break and drove an hour each way to Abby’s soccer game – where they lost (again) and headed back home to beat the clock and have the sink in, the house cleaned and beer chilled before our friends came by… But yeah, who I was I kidding - that was never going to happen.

Instead I dropped Abby off at our friends and returned home to stand by the man I love and cheer him on to sink victory.

He did win and the sink went in – the hoses lined up and the disposal ran and the water flowed (without leaks) and the sink shined…

My dear husband just spend over 24 hours working on a sink project for me. And I spent 24 hours cleaning the house only to realize that every glass, dish and pot is still covered in dust.

But, the point is not that I have a new kitchen sink – even though I do – and I love it and I love even more that the green one is sitting in our driveway and probably will for a week or more showing the neighbors that not only we did get a new sink and they should be jealous but that we are now bordering on white trash with our ugly sink on the front lawn…

But the point is – my husband knew all along that my pipedream of a 20 minute project was ridiculous but he followed along anyway. He knew it was important to me and did everything under the sun to do it the right way. And while I love getting flowers and gifts – what he did this weekend says more about how much he loves me than any bouquet or bracelet. And that is why I love him…that and he is pretty darn cute!

Truths: In the End

Amongst my shallow angst this week, I found opportunities of deep revelation. There are no jokes today just pause for thought and contemplation.

See earlier this week, my ex-husband’s grandma – Abby’s great grandma – an amazing lady we fondly called Mor Mor passed away. At 97 it was a blessing but still a sad loss to all those who knew her – me included.

Also earlier this week, my grandma, a spry 91 years old was hospitalized for the very first time in her whole life (except for childbirth).

As I sat in the hospital room one night she said, “Becky, if I go – its okay – I am ready. I have led a very full life at 91 and have no regrets. I have always been happy – what else could I ask for?”

Her words pierced my soul… When my day comes, will I be able to except death as readily as she is? What regrets am I still agonizing over? What dreams do I still have? Are there things that keep from a happy life – what are they?

I fell asleep that night pondering her words…wondering how on Earth I could ever be that at peace with the end of my life. Is it just that I am so young and not ready? Or is my life too full of crap to be at peace with the simple things in life.

My opportunity for reflection did not end that night as I attended the wake and service of Mor Mor the following day. At 97, Mor Mor led a complete life and while I never had the chance to hear her say what my grandma was saying – I believe that Mor Mor would have said it to me as well.

The service, performed by a woman chaplain, was so sincere and genuine – her affections for Mor Mor obvious and her insight became priceless – to me.

In her words, she spoke of how Mor Mor was part of the lives of so many and because of her – all of our lives were changed forever – she would always be with us because of the way she touched us.

And with those words, I wondered – how do I touch people’s lives? If I were to die today – what would they take with them? What would I want them to keep as a part of me – not something materialistic – but heartfelt.

Its been a long, sometimes hard week. What started as a saga over a stove became an emotional, thought provoking few days.

We don’t always get chances to think about what is important so I treasure the times that I do. It gives me pause to reflect on my own life and to make course corrections so that when I am walking on the edge of my end, I can solidly say I am ready, I have lived a full life and have no regrets.

Truths: Some thing weren’t mean to be (aka: Julia Child does NOT live here)

Okay, so the stove came yesterday. I spent the last two days in preparation… Cleaning out the pantry, organizing the shelves… Anticipating my moment of sheer cooking inspiration. This was going to be “it.” This long awaited time in my life when I would not only have the urge to cook and bake – but a time when I would enjoy it on my new and beautiful new stainless steel stove.

What a pipe dream.

Monday night my husband unhooked the gas line and pulled the old clunker out and found, of course, what looked like the remains of a cat – or at least enough fur to make a new cat. That and a Barbie shoe, some hair ties, toy mice and even a few crumbs – those must have come from the previous owners.

To my pleasant surprise he began wiping down the floor and by bedtime – the area was prepped for our new baby…

The delivery truck pulled in at 11am – just like they said they would and I was getting excited. The nice man came to see where the new one would go and he and a partner strapped up the old one and took it away.

I wonder where those go? Does someone want them? Or is there a graveyard for appliances that just don’t work anymore – they have done their duty and now they rest in some peaceful place conversing with each other about all the mishaps they have endured through the years – turkeys that were burnt, birthday cakes they made, water that boiled over and yes, chatted about people like me – who had no business even turning them on. Do they favor people like me – who made their life easy or would they rather be busy making feasts? Hmmm I wonder.

Anyway, the old guy was out the door and my new life was heading in. That is until deliveryman told me that I should have had professional installers with this stove. That he was unable to hook it up the way this kind of stove needed. He was just a delivery guy and I would have to contact the salesperson. I even got a call from Best Buy while the delivery guy stood in front of me – explaining the mix-up.

This can’t be happening… I was on the verge of a life changing moment.

The truck pulled away as did my dream of baking the perfect meatloaf and left me with a gorgeous range in the middle of my kitchen.

Of course I did what any wife does –I called my husband. I explained to him like the delivery guy explained to me and added that I think he could just do it when he got home – it didn’t sound that complicated.

He hesitated but like any good husband – agreed that he would look into it when he got home.

Deflated – I circled my kitchen… and noticed the ugly green porcelain sink that we have and thought, “Maybe we could replace that this weekend.”

Knowing that I wouldn’t be making homemade mashed potatoes or kneading a meatloaf in the afternoon, I got on the internet and googled, “Replacing a kitchen sink” I watched the Home Depot video and thought, “Yep, we can do this – Hell, I could do this.”

So, I surfed the web for sinks and comforted my disappointment with the stove with the hope for a new sink.

A lot of other things went wrong during the day – and by the time we got home from visiting my grandma in the hospital – my husband had the stove opened up and concern on his face.

I could see that the news he was about to share was not good… and in his nicest voice he said, “We have a bigger problem.”

See, the gas line which comes up in the floor was 4 inches from the wall – which mean that my slide-in range was not going to slide all the way in. No, instead it would leave a 4-inch gaping hole. My pretty stove was going to leave an unsightly space between the wall and the range.

This is NOT how this was supposed to go. My husband finagled a few things to see if he could make them work but to no avail… so we did what any couple does – we went down to the basement remodel and grabbed our ingenious contractor, Chris.

Unfortunately, gas lines don’t bend and kink like other things – so there was no easy fix for this rather big problem.

Instead, Chris replied, “Well, when we remodel your kitchen in the spring we could re-run the gas line and make it work…”

Before he could finish – my husband was choking on his beer and asking, “Did I know we were remodeling the kitchen in the spring.”

“That is not important right now,” I replied… “What can you do, Chris?”

Deep breath – my kitchen remodel was between Chris and I - I had planned to tell Bill about it one night after he has a few drinks… Yada yada.

So, for now Chris is going to fill the black hole with some matching trim and for now, it will be okay.

By the time my head it the pillow, my excitement and anticipation for the day was left mutilated by the realities that overcame me.

That day a few weeks ago when I left the store glassy-eyed – planning my dinner parties was now nothing more than a faint memory – a broken dream – a burnt cake.

Truths: The reality of being a citizen

So, last night I exercised my right to freedom of speech and attended a Woodstock City Council meeting. I was there on behalf of a proposed ordinance change to a current leash law for dogs (go figure).

At the present – Woodstock institutes an “at heel” provision – meaning that you can either have your dog on a leash OR you can have them at your side… Of course, the intent is that only well-behaved dogs will be “at heel” but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that probably isn’t the reality of the situation.

I became involved because my groomer felt compelled to get this ordinance changed – and well, I do agree that “at heel” is a terrible accident waiting to happen.

It has taken over two years for the council to consider this proposal and last night it went up for a vote.

But, lets back up… I have never attended a city council meeting before. I have voted for council members based on what was written about them in the paper – but never actually saw them at work. It was seriously scary.

Scary in that – there wasn’t one topic brought up last night that the majority of them didn’t already know how they would vote on… They came to the meeting with deaf ears and that was very disheartening. In fact, they also came to the meeting armed with their own citizens ready to make their arguments.

I favor one of the members, not only because she voted in favor of removing the “at heel” provision (go Julie Dillon!) but because out of all the members she seemed like she was listening without tainted thoughts. There is another woman, Maureen Larson, who also appeared to be open minded (though she voted against removing the “at heel” provision) but none the less – she did her own research and gave valid reasons for why she was voting on all of the issues last night.

First it has to be pointed out that both of the members I favor are women. I never meant there to be a bias – but it does come down to the fact that the male members of the group did not listen to what anyone had to say last night – they only listened to themselves.

Second, the entire evening gave way to “the good ole boys club” phenomenon which apparently I naively believed was not something a town as big as Woodstock (22,000 people) would fall prey to.

I thought we were too big, too forward thinking, too liberal (all things I love about my town) for that sort of stuff but last night I was witness to it.

First, it was a citizen voicing his concerns about a gravel pit near his house not adhering to the regulations the city set-up so the gravel pit could operate. It just happens that the owner of the gravel pit is a prominent figure in the community and more than likely both friends and supporter of many of the members. And while I am certain the gravel pit contributes its share to the community – I also know that it does not operate in 100% compliance of not just the city regs but the state laws… And c’mon, if you live in McHenry County – no gravel pit is your friend.

But, in reality – I could sense the pretense of the issue. A supervisor of the gravel pit spoke in response (more like retaliation) to the complaint and while I am sure he meant well – there was very little remorse for the situation – very little ownership for both the problem and/or the responsibility to do something about it. And, it just didn’t seem like the majority of the council members were willing to stand up for the concerned citizen. Instead, they hid behind minor changes they would make and said that the gravel pit owner was working with the city in a cooperative effort and they were grateful for his efforts. The citizen suggested that perhaps the cooperative effort could translate to following the rules in the future.

Second, a builder was on the agenda for requesting an extension for building the sidewalks they said they would build when they started the development. Sure, we all realize that the construction trades have fallen flat on their face and that the myriad of building phases they had planned have all but collapsed. But, the fact of the matter is that they do have residents living in their communities – who thought they were going to be getting something for the money they spent and now that the builders are losing money – the people who bought the properties are left with little to say. The irony is that if the resident could no longer pay the assessment or association fee because they lost their job – I have a hard time believing that the builder would let it slide..

But anyway, the man gave a nice and caring speech and being the good boys that they are – they gave him a TWO YEAR hiatus on the sidewalks. TWO years – sure he could build them sooner – but what are the odds he will?

That was the kind of night it was… and the leash law was no different. Certain members of the council put all the right players in place to get just what they wanted. And, sadly, my first council meeting left me feeling raped of my civil liberties and flabbergasted that I lived in a community that worships the good ole boys.

On the positive side – I know who I will and will not vote for in the next council election… and I will try and make it a priority to pop in to a few more city council meetings but the reality is that I was better off never going – never realizing that I should be a little ashamed (maybe a lot) of what my council practices.

I sit on the fence with my political views – while I am certain my social beliefs are liberal my fiscal views tend to be conservative… my family calls me a democrat but I question it – I believe that everyone has a right to make money and that they shouldn’t have to give it all away to someone who chooses not to make money – but last night I was sadly reminded why there are laws to protect consumers, citizens from big businesses and why no one should be able to be in office for more than one term.

Truths: Go Team – Go!!

Green and Gold…Go Packers… Yep, still intoxicated by the smell of popcorn and cold beer and fresh, chilled football air – and the loud roar of the crowd from the Green Bay Packer Game.

We packed ourselves into the car at 5:30am to drive 4 hours and cheer our team to victory (or loss as it turned out). We dressed in green and gold (two colors that should not be on the same shirt – let alone fill a stadium) packed our coolers and grabbed our mittens and made our way to the infamous, “Lambeau Field.” Often coined the frozen tundra because of frigid cold WI weather – but lucky for us – it was a beautiful fall day.

We picked up our daughter, Kristin and future son-in-law Jeffrey along the way as Abby read off the team stats from the back seat.

We were primed and ready to go. Abby’s first game, my third and to all an exciting day to be a fan of any team.

Going to a football game is so much more than watching a football team play. It is this overwhelming sense of camaraderie – this fulfilling sense of belonging to something waaaay bigger than yourself. And quite frankly, it can be scary to see just how endearing some of the fans really are.

We pulled into the adjacent lot gaping at the RV’s and busses parked – drenched in green and gold Packer garb – cooking out burgers and brats – tapping kegs and throwing footballs. This was it – this was the beginning of the adrenaline rush a fan feels as they get closer to the stadium – closer to their team.

For Abby – it was so much to take in. But, she quickly fell into the swing of things by asking for a green and gold feather boa…walking proudly around the place – now just as crazy as the rest of them.

We didn’t have much hope for our tickets even though they cost us a portion of Abby’s college tuition…A friend said, “but the experience will be priceless…” no, really, it had a price!

But, our seats were amazing. We could practically reach out our hands and touch the turf – spit on a player – We sat basking in the sun and soaking up the excitement (and the beer).

What is even more amazing is how TV makes NFL football feel so differently than regular football. When you are sitting next to the field and watching the plays – you realize that, ultimately, it is no better than high school. The quarterback calls the plays and the linemen do their best to keep him safe. It is the same field – just the players are older – and bigger.

It got me thinking to 21 years ago when I was a senior in high school (I can’t believe I am giving away my age) and I was out on that field – as a football manager. Bringing the cute boys water and hanging with them as they talked about the plans for the evening (not the plays for the game!).

I was a football manager for three years in high school – and to this day consider it one of the best experiences of my life. I did the basketball cheerleading thing in the winter – but nothing could hold a candle to really being a part of the team… Yeah, maybe I dated a few of the players – but really, they became like brothers to me and it was about something bigger than myself.

See as a football manager – we got to spend everyday with the team – from hot summer double sessions of practice – to game day breakfasts – to bus trips and my favorite: the team meeting the night before the game. Being in that field house – listening to the coach motivate the spirit of the team – feeling the way the guys cared about the game… That was moving – Shouting rah, rahs while guys shot hoops – yeah, it wasn’t the same.

I liked football before I was a football manager – but by the time my senior year came around – I loved football and felt like I was a part of it.

It wasn’t just the game – it was everything that surrounded it – the practices, the meetings, the games, - our record was important to me – winning or losing mattered – but how we played the game on and off the field – that was what captured my heart.

These guys had my back – I was one of them and that was fun, amazing, and unforgettable. (what was forgettable was some of the pre-game nights when the sunshine club – aka: football team - did tequila shots in prep for Saturdays games…)

Being that close to the field yesterday – certainly made me remember what football means to me – the memories I have of being part of a team…

I think that is what brings fans together – not everyone can be down on the field – throwing or catching the ball – or coaching the team to victory – but everyone can dress themselves in team colors (however ugly they are) and cheer and for a few hours on a Sunday and be part of team much bigger then themselves.

Truths: A picture is worth a thousand words

The other day I was downloading (or uploading) photos from my trip to Cali and for whatever techie reason – my Kodak photo program kept erroring out. It has been happening a lot and since I am not a tech – I just ignore it.

Well, this time got me worried – we know the computer Gods have not been on my side lately – I dodged a big bullet just a few months ago – when my computer crashed but they were able to save my hard drive which meant they saved my pictures…

So, I wasn’t going to take any chances and decided to transfer all of the Kodak pictures to the Apple software iphoto. There were 3000 pictures spanning the last 5 plus years of my life.

As I made the transfer – I actually got to see all of the pictures flash before my eyes. And ironically, since I had Pandora playing on my computer (if you don’t know what this is – I feel like I have to tell you… My future son-in-law, Dave showed it to me in CA. So you go to Pandora.com and set up an account – its free – and then you get to put in an artist, song, etc and you set-up your own radio station that randomly plays music in that genre. I love it… I hear songs I like that I would never have heard otherwise. There are a few commercials – hey they have to pay for it somehow – but it really is the coolest thing.)

So, anyway, my genre was Lifehouse and the music was playing and my pictures were flashing before my eyes and somewhere between Abby going to 1st grade and graduating 5th grade – it hit me: this was a slideshow of my life.

My life – the last 5 years – one picture at a time – in front of me. Christmas, Easter, the cabin remodel, the pregnant cats and kittens I fostered, the puppy mill auctions, our trip to the Grand Canyon, my renunion, my friends, my family. Everything I love and everything I had done – one second at a time.

The music made it even better, music I like…. In some ways it was like being at my own funeral – thinking about how this would be what they would show. (Which is creepy and dark to think about, I know…)

But, the point is –if you keep pictures of your life and have easy access to them – it is well worth doing this exercise because you realize in a matter of 10 minutes what is important in your life: what matters – because we take photos of the things we care most about – the things and people who we love.

And, I think that on daily basis we don’t think about that enough. Our days are hectic with our jobs and mindless chores and to do lists and we overlook what we love, who we love. We are always trying to get through today – with the hope of tomorrow being better and the people we love get ignored and the things that we are passionate about have to wait another day.

What if that was my funeral slide show? What was it missing – how did I feel about it? Was it enough?

It was actually. In fact, it made me realize what a blessed life I have – embracing my passions and surrounded by the people I love. Sure there were things I have yet to accomplish but I am working on those… This really wasn’t my funeral slide show so I hope I still have some time left.

But, even though I was happy with what I saw – it was still a good reminder to make efforts to keep in touch with my friends and my family – to have more get togethers – to share each others lives more often and enjoy each other’s company.

It also reminded me to keep going… to keep trudging thru and pursuing what matters… And, of course, photographing it all – because when the holiday is over, or the event has ended, or the accomplishment fades away – they are always alive and in color in photos.

Truths: Betty Crocker Watch Out

So, awhile back I alluded to the fact that our refrigerator broke. To some that might seem like awhile ago and no, we had not replaced it yet. I wanted to, right away, but life got in the way – and truthfully, I don’t cook so being without a refrigerator just meant that my chocolate milk and Bill’s beer wasn’t getting cold – but with a mini fridge in the garage – we had that covered. That and some butter, mayo and the Vidalia onions we bought from the Shriners.

I did find time to measure and re-measure the inadequate opening I had to put the fridge. I wanted one of those French door fridges with the freezers on the bottom. But, that wasn’t going to fit… We would have to get a fridge just the same as the one we had – but I could at least get stainless steel. Yay.

However, with my trip to Cali in the works ordering a fridge wasn’t going to happen and even if I did order it – I figured that they would deliver it when I was gone. (That turned out to be a pipe dream).

I had done some extensive research on-line comparing models and prices. (and I did check out some new stoves along the way.)

When I got back from Cali (and saw the mold growing in the old fridge) it was definitely time to get my act together and get a new one. Again, I spent an hour on the web surfing for prices and found the absolute best deal at BestBuy.com. And when I mean best deal, I mean I was saving hundreds of dollars and getting free shipping!

But, ordering a major appliance (maybe two) on-line was a bit intimidating to me so I got in the car and drove to the nearest Best Buy… on the way, I passed our local appliance store and feeling guilty about not supporting a mom and pop shop I made a u-turn and went in. I thought I should at least give them a chance.

I walked in and glanced at all the appliances – thinking of taking a look when the salesman asked if I needed help and when I asked if they had what I was looking for – he abruptly told me, “NO!”

Hey, I gave them a chance. On to Best Buy I went. That is where I met Karl – a nice man who would be happy to help me. I asked if the prices in the store were the same as the ones on-line. He said that if they weren’t they would match them.

We began looking up my desired fridge…

Oh, let me back up… all of this time on the web I looked for a new stove. I checked models and compared prices. Like our fridge and the dishwasher we already replaced, the stove was soon to be on the way out. Already some of the burners weren’t working so appealing to my husband wasn’t THAT hard… and while he was still in CA – looking at potential retirement homes on the beach – that we can’t afford – I texted him and said, “Well since we won’t be moving there anytime soon, maybe we could get a new stove.”

To which he replied, “Knock yourself out!”

Yay me… But see here is the ironic thing, that you already know, I don’t cook. Getting a new stove is like getting a baseball mitt when you don’t play the game – what is the point.

Well, there was the cosmetic point that our appliances would match and our kitchen would be updated (though not as updated as I would like: new cabinets, new counters)…

And, I guess at the time that really was the only point…

But, lets continue with my shopping experience… Now, knowing that I could get the stove – Karl was looking up both items and realizing that no, the prices at the store were hundreds of dollars more and shipping was not free! Talk about crazy big box thinking.

But, he was happy to match everything on-line. He really was the nicest man. Karl and I worked together to overcome the many obstacles he faced getting my order right. And, along the way he convinced me to get a credit card where I could defer payments for 18 months.

As he was maneuvering through the complex computer system, I began browsing thru the stoves that were on display – there was one similar to the model I chose and when I began opening it up and seeing the accessories it came with – I actually felt an excitement building. This cooking thing might just turn out to be…fun?

After about an hour (or more) my purchases were complete and the stove would be delivered in two weeks and the fridge, well at least three weeks. Guess I could have ordered before I left for Cali.

I left the store feeling proud about my wise shopping and saving hundreds of dollars with my research and my unwavering pursuit to get the prices I found on-line. And, I felt – excited – unbelievable enthusiasm about this new stove. Not only was I looking forward to how it would look in the kitchen…But I found myself thinking about cooking.

A long time ago, on two different occasions, I bought recipe boxes, filled with old recipes – all handwritten – at the flea market. What possessed me to make such a crazy purchase I will never know. I didn’t even like the recipe boxes to begin with and even if I did like the boxes its not like I needed any recipe boxes. But, at the time, I thought how cool it would be to prepare these recipes that were written by someone’s grandma 20 years ago.

I began thinking about those boxes that were, undoubtedly, dusty in my cookbook cupboard. This is it – this is my time to make these recipes – to try them out – to cook for my family and perhaps instead of storing cookbooks on the top shelf, that I can’t reach, maybe I will put the take-out menus and phonebooks for reservations there.

See, the other thing that has become a revelation to me is that I just want to be home. All of my recent travels have been fantastic – but since there have been so many in a short time – it has left me homesick and with the realization – that I am done seeking things outside of myself and just want to nest, to stay, to revel in the comfort of my own space.

Between this newfound desire and the excitement of a new stove – I was really enthralled with the concept of cooking. Those recipes danced in my head as I drove away from Best Buy and conjured images of me baking cookies, maybe even wearing an apron, and it felt good, really good. (okay, a little odd but still good.)

And besides the cookies, and as oxy-moron as this is about to sound, it would be good to start eating healthy. I began weight watchers 5 months ago and while I have now lost 20 pounds – eating healthy meals would be good for all of us.

I believe in feng shui and I think sometimes that clearing out the old and replacing it with new – does spark new possibilities, new aspirations.

So, watch out Betty Crocker – Becky Monroe is in the kitchen!