Kat's Journey to Success

You Didn't Think It Would Be Effortless, Did You?

2007-05-04T18:07:00.000-04:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

People who travel between my small town and the city closest to us have two roads they can follow. One is the highway. A straight shot, smooth pavement, lots of company along the way. The other is through the country. Sometimes smooth pavement, sometimes more potholes than pavement, some gravel and always a winding, curving path pocked with the stop signs and turn signals of dozens of small towns.

It takes the same amount of time to get from my house to the my friend's house in the city, regardless of which road you choose to take. How can that be, you ask? Simple - the highway was constructed to suit the highway, not the people that use it. It skirts around towns, by-passes some towns in favor of others which causes you to back track and its cluttered with all the folks trying to get the same place you are. The country road, on the other hand, is a straight shot.

The path to success is much like these two roads. Some will hop on the highway and get there. Very few road hazards, bumps or delays - but white knuckle navigation along the way, racing to keep up with everyone else headed to that final destination: success. Some will be like me, sticking to the country road. Getting there over potholes, stop signs and traffic signals, usually all alone, but getting there nonetheless. Getting there with a lovely view along the way.

How Do You Measure Success?

2007-02-02T15:41:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

I think we can all agree that a successful life is comprised of balance in five areas: finance, spirit, intellect, relationships and health. Visualizing what determines a balance in those areas is an individual choice, but what is most important is remembering to enjoy the exhilerating, exciting, worthwhile journey. To feel what its like to already be there, while still clamboring up the mountain.

Having watched Oprah and her coverage of The Secret, I know I'm not the first or the only person who sat down and didn't have a clear picture of just exactly what it is I want. What would comprise Kat's definition of balance and success. "Happy" isn't clear enough. Its like asking for a joke that will make everyone in the entire universe laugh. There just isn't such a thing, because people are unique and wonderful each in their own way.

I'm refining exactly what it is that I want, what I could look back at and say "I suceeded, my life is in balance". But I'm quite good at knowing what I don't want, and that's where you start, with the opposite of all those things you don't want in your life.

A Beautiful Day

2007-01-29T18:48:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

Has there ever been a day as magnificent as this one? The air so crisp and cold your cheeks pink up just thinking of going outside. A thin layer of snow covering the winter browned grass, making the roads look like black ribbons carelessly dropped from a young girl's hand. This weather portends a great upcoming summer. Fewer mosquitos, fewer bugs of any kind.

Philip's story is one third told. He's tapping on my shoulder now, anxious for me to finish the writing.

"Tell them..." he whispers in my ear. "Tell them of my school in the bayou, my teacher from Chicago..."

This character is as excited about meeting the world as I. His story, and that of the boys and girls, men and women like him, has been ignored too long. I am so grateful that I was the one chosen to bring them all into the light.

The Doctor called me today, as he always does. "Where can we go? What do you see?" He asks me.

I tell him that I see auditoriums filled with children, their laughter ringing in my ears. I see book stores, the people lined out the door and down the block. I see the kids once relegated to the sidelines of life rolling and limping to stand shoulder to shoulder with their peers, claiming their right to acceptance and happiness. I see it and I feel it. Its waiting for us.

"Thank you." The doctor says quietly before hanging up the phone.

Setting the Goal

2007-01-28T23:17:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

The Law of Attraction uses visualization as a tool for achieving what you want. Much like the advice to "dress for success", it makes sense to see and feel what life will be like once you get there. In order to visualize anything, as Aaron suggested in a comment, the goal has to be clear.
Uncannily, I have seen this principle work in my life before I knew it had a name.

I have always been a writer. From stories as a kid, to my diary as a teenager, straight through the things I scribbled on napkins and the back of receipts all through my twenties and thirties. I talked frequently of writing once I retired. I talked about writing all the time, but always with this feeling that I wasn't good enough to ever succeed at it.

Two years ago in a random conversation with the director of our local arts council, I mentioned that I wished there was a writers group in our town. She said "Excellent idea, you're in charge. I'll support you 100%". She'd called my bluff, so I had no choice but to start a writers group, complete with the research necessary to lead a group of writers specializing in everything from poetry to journalism to children's and adult fiction. I shared my short stories with the group along with everyone else to resounding praise. With each meeting, my confidence grew. In November I encouraged the group to participate in the "write a novel in a month" challenge. As their leader, I had no choice but to write the book that had been living in my head for more than fifteen years. I didn't finish the book, but ended the month with it substantially written except for the last chapter. A friend from the group finally asked me what the problem was, the real problem. I realized that my resistance to finishing it had to do with the next step...submitting it to a publisher, rejection and what I perceived as the end of a dream. Once I'd voiced it, I had to put it away. It was in that moment that I decided I would finish up my term at my day job (I'm in an elected position) and chase my dream to be a writer. Even if that meant I had to live in a box. I stopped thinking about failing, and focused entirely on succeeding.

My book was rejected by that small publisher, but he said he liked my style and offered me a partnership, editing the books he had already signed for publication. I accepted and with my new title gained the attention of a national magazine, with just one small problem. They needed tear sheets to actually hire me. I kept writing, and working with my group. A few months later one of my members handed me an ad. A small local newspaper was looking for human interest stories. I applied and was hired. I wrote three stories a week for six months, met some amazing people and just when I had a file drawer full of tear sheets, and was burning out from holding down three jobs, the newspaper went out of business.

Through my work at the newspaper, a Doctor in the town next door contacted me about ghost writing his children's book. The concept is one that has never been addressed to date. That brings us to today, and the specific goal that I am visualizing and counting on the Law of Attraction to help me manifest.

The Philip books are going to take the world by storm. They are fun, innovative and serve a segment of our society that needs to be spotlighted. I can hear the audience applause as we walk on stage, past the big blow up of our bookcover, and settle into seats next to... Oprah.

Gratitude and Wanting More

2007-01-27T22:47:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

Dr. John, one of my favorite bloggers, made this comment on my last post:

I hope this works for you. But is seems to me you have most of what one could want. You have a job you like, wonderful grandchildren that make you feel alive and a great husband.

Gratitude for what you already have is one of the cornerstones of this philosophy, and why it feels so logical to me. I have so very much I'm grateful for, and if I gain not one more thing in my life, I'll still go to my grave feeling like I was blessed at every turn.

But there burns in me a desire to do and serve more.

I do like my job with the publishing company, but it pays nothing right now. We spend what we make on one book, promoting it and publishing the next. If visualizing our little company as a big successful company helps attract opportunities to make just that happen, it helps so many people besides me. My children and grandchildren are the reason my heart sings every day. I want to have the means to insure they have every opportunity to achieve their dreams through education. My husband has worked himself to the bone taking care of all of us. He's battling heart disease and diabetes, he doesn't have many more years to work and he's deserving of more happiness than a poverty riddled retirement. All of these things take more money than we currently make.

I have been a volunteer for several causes for most of my life. Alzheimer's took my father and brother. Cancer has attacked all of my sisters and mother. There are children in my little town with two working parents and still they can't afford to go to the dentist, much less own their own bicycle. Young women who've gone astray and are trying to find their way back into the light need more than just encouraging words. They need education, transportation, an interview suit and money for a babysitter. There are programs to help with these things, but they're always insufficiently funded. I want to help, but I need more money to do that.

I have no need or desire for mansions or expensive cars. The reality Neil and I have created for ourselves right now presents a grim picture for our future. Neither of us has worked at one job long enough to provide a decent retirement income and while we are young enough to turn our fortunes around, I must. Ask and you will receive. So it was written, so it will be. If you believe it.

The Law of Attraction

2007-01-27T19:06:00.000-05:00

The movie, The Secret, is an introduction to the principle behind getting what you want. An overview of The Law of Attraction, presented from some very successful people. Granted, some of those people have achieved their success from promoting the principles of The Secret. But it's the basic nature of the information that so resonated with me.

The Law of Attraction is this: thoughts become things. The power of positive thinking isn't something I hadn't heard before. I've read my share of self-improvement books, listened to my share of motivational speakers. I learned that I was worthy of having what I wanted in Sunday School - God himself passed on the message "ask and you shall receive". I've been watching Oprah since she went national. Who couldn't have this background and still not get that anyone is capable of achieving anything? Well, me. Until this particular presentation, I listened and part of me still believed that those who succeed are smarter and luckier than I am. They were more charismatic, they had the "it" factor the entertainment industry is always talking about.

Using the basic premise that thoughts become things, the first step is to identify what I want. My wants are very simple: I want to see my books in the hands of readers. I want my husband to find and chase a dream. I want enough money every year to put some in the bank, keep us in new (practical) cars, and provide funding for Alzheimer's Research, my local Women's Network, Cancer Research and Feed the Children, along with any other worthy cause that comes my way. I want to provide college educations for my grandchildren. I want to buy cutting edge medical equipment for kids with disabilities.

That's the beginning, deciding what you really want.

The Secret

2007-01-27T13:30:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for my everyday blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/
If you're curious about The Secret, read on down.

Here in my 48th year of life, I'm grateful for many things. Excellent health. A husband that has loved me above all others for 25 years, five healthy children, four beautiful grandgirls, adequate food, clothing and shelter. I've been reasonably successful in my career field, and have a wonderful circle of friends and family. But what has eluded me thus far, is the means to achieve my dreams.

I want to see my books in the hands of readers. I want to know that if I should live to be 100 I will have enough of my own money to never rely on social security, send my grandchildren to college and still have sufficient fluid assets to donate generously to my favorite charities as well as any worthy cause that happens by. One of my dearest friends sent me a film called The Secret, that offers a theory addressing this issue, the achievement of dreams, wishes and wants. He's not the kind of guy that just randomly suggests things, so I'm going to try out this theory, and see what happens. Recording the results here.

I've provided the link to the movie if you're looking for a change in your life. Maybe you already know these theories, please leave me word of how its working for you.

Visits from the Old Neighborhood

2006-12-04T17:59:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for Kat's real blog...click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com/

Lucky for me I kept this old space since I can't comment on some of my friend's blogs from my new place. Ho, Ho, Ho... Happy Holiday's to you, now go on and visit my real space!

This Quiet Place

2006-11-17T21:15:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for Kat's real blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com

A long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wanted to leave Pap. Because I'm not a quitter, when he suggested counselling first, I agreed, and we worked things out. In the course of that counselling, I discovered that I was suffering the effects of depression. I also found out that I've probably been masking these symptoms for most of my life. I prefer being happy to sad, and I'd do almost anything to at least appear happy.

Apparently, "acting" happy is one of the techniques this particular counsellor used to help depressed patients. She believed people are creatures of habit, those things they did repetitively became "their way". I don't know if that's true or not, I don't really care. What I knew and what I know is that I have no reason to be depressed. I am blessed in many ways and on those days that I feel like I'm acting instead of living, or when I wake up feeling as if the light has gone out of the world, I reach for the tools that set things right. An hour by the pond watching the fish, a trip to the park with the grandgirls, a funny story or a visit among my blog friends.

Its silly to think of blogs as "neighborhoods", but I do. This quiet place is the ghost town that was once a bustling small town. I like ghost town from time to time.

Playing in the Old Neighborhood

2006-11-15T22:37:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for Kat's real blog, click here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com.

Since I can't seem to abandon my old neighborhood completely, I decided to try bloggers new beta version... if it messed everything up, nothing lost. So far, I'm impressed. I like being able to make changes without html. This place might just be the place to add all those bells and whistles that usually drive me crazy. Might turn into the place a REALLY rant... the radical stuff that looks like a crazy person talking.

Visiting the old neighborhood

2006-11-15T15:42:00.000-05:00

If you're searching for the day to day business of Kat, you'll have to go here: http://www.katcampbell.wordpress.com. Officially, I've moved.

This poor ransacked blog feels like the abandoned home in the middle of your neighborhood. That place whose paint fades and peels a little more each year. The house all the neighborhood kids swear is haunted.

I've always loved those kinds of houses. I don't see the tattered curtains, or web covered corners. I feel the energy left behind by the families that once lived there. I can't resist climbing the stairs; imagining the girls who descended in party dresses, the boys who descended three treads at a time with reckless abandon.

So maybe I'll drop by from time to time and leave something here that I don't want cluttering up my real blog. The kinds of stories nobody really cares to read about.

Moving Day

2006-11-02T12:13:00.000-05:00

I've moved! Come see me at my sparkling new home by clicking here: http://katcampbell.wordpress.com
and if otownhandyman seems a little tired and cranky today, it's because I made him move all the heavy stuff. Thanks Tony!

The Power of Numbers

2006-10-31T09:02:00.000-05:00

"World Peace" the tag line of beauty queens and Christmas caroles. The battle cry of hippies. A mind set many of our world leaders find laughable. A state of being viewed as overly optimistic and unachievable by most of the world's population.

But this is the beginning of the season of miracles and I believe in the power of the written word. There is another old cliche that says you get what you ask for. Cliches become cliches because they're usually true. It's time for us to ask our world leaders to put down their weapons and bombs, and with the power of our numbers and our minds, to do what we've been admonishing our two year olds to do for centuries: "Use Your Words!"

The goal is for all of the blogging community to use November 7th as an opportunity to band together with a single topic: Dona Nobis Pacem - Grant Us Peace. You'll find a much more eloquent explanation at the originators site: http://mimiwrites.blogspot.com/2006/10/dona-nobis-pacem-in-blogosphere_12.html, or even at Quilldancers place. Take some time today to think about what peace means to you.

Steal This Gnome

2006-10-26T22:04:00.000-04:00

While minding my own business, this judgemental creature popped by to criticize my raggedy yard. While it may be true that house of perpetual remodeling is a neighborhood disgrace at the moment, its nearly Halloween, and all that garden clutter is ambiance. Jeesh, some gnomes are so superior.

I've heard he's visiting wherever he can get, so feel free to steal him from me (I'll be glad to get rid of the snotty little bugger) or pop by his master and commander http://www.nwlink.com/~timelvis/2006/10/stealing-gnome.html and say hi while you're there.

More Halloween Madness

2006-10-20T05:56:00.000-04:00

Pap brought this frightening fellow home to add to our seasonal decorations yesterday. In quite unpirate like fashion, he dances when you activate the motion detector. He also sings - Super Freak and Slow Ride. He's about my height (5'5").

Typical of Pap, he snuck home before Princess and I yesterday and had the pirate set up by the front door. I was startled, but being as immersed in Halloween nonsense as I am, quickly recovered and went about my business. Princess, on the other hand, may never recover. This morning I noticed she has the poor guy turned face to the wall.

He needs a suitable Pirate name. Any suggestions?

We've lived in this house for 15 years. About 10 years ago we got new neighbors across the street who happen to be Jehovah Witnesses. Nice people, we say hello if we're all outside, but that's about it. They pretty much consider us heathenish and keep their distance. Every Halloween when the house of perpetural remodeling is decked out in it's spooky finest and every Christmas when the house turns into candyland central, the folks across the street make their social statement. They gather on their porch with their JW friends, all facing my house and pray for us.

I make every attempt to be a good neighbor. I really try not to offend anyone or to put anything offensive outside my house (I save that stuff for inside...kidding). But our descent into Halloween creepy versus the Halloween cute I used to do can be attributed to these neighbors. The rebellious teenager in me just really can't help needling them. It's shameful, but I lived here first.

Inevitabilities

2006-10-17T07:46:00.000-04:00

Grandgirls with their witch dummy from this past weekend. This was the first time they'd ever made a halloween dummy. Let it never be said that I don't pass on some quite valuable life skills to future generations.

I have a Murphy's Law kind of life. If the lid is going to fall off the salt shaker, it will be when I'm using it. If a tire is going to blow on my car, it will be during an ice storm when I don't have my cell phone. I've lived long enough that this is now acceptable, and I don't sweat it.

I spent yesterday running around doing a laundry list of annoying errands accompanied by Pap who is still crippled from his surgery so it took twice as long to do everything. No big deal, one of the errands was to the doctor to get his helpless bandage off and a walking cast on. Yay! Things were going smoothly, aside from the pounding headache that also kept me company all day. Just as we were wrapping things up by dropping his car at the shop to have the gas tank replaced it started to sprinkle. Still not a big deal, I had plenty of time to race home and put the cover on my leaky roofed car.

I'd piddled around doing house chores, checking mail... all that stuff you have to do because you're a grown up, while it started raining buckets outside. I took a bath and settled into the library with a book I'm editing and then realized I had one cigarette.

There are addictions, and then there is my addiction. Before I smoked I chewed my nails, before that I sucked my thumb. I'm a perfectly rational human being until I run out of cigarettes. I was wearing this very tacky t-shirt I've been sleeping in since I got it 10 years ago, it has one of those torsos in a bikini painted on the front, and the sweat pants I've also had for 10 years that are paint splattered, bleach spotted and overall raggedy. These are my comfort clothes, big, baggy, stretched out, non-fashionable - but comfortable. I wasn't thinking about what I was wearing while I contemplated my options. Mistake number one.

With Pap's car in the shop and mine under cover because of the rain, I had to wait for Princess to get home so I could use her car. She of course picked this night to stop on the way home for a capachino with friends, so by the time she did stroll in, even the cats were in hiding. I snatched her keys out of her hand, threw on some shoes (mistake number two) that were laying by the door and raced down the post midnight, dark, abandoned streets to our convenience store. When I arrived the store was empty, the clerk fetched my sanity sticks, I went to pay her and realized that I had no cash in my wallet and the checkbook was laying on the desk at home. Knowing that the bottom of my purse is always littered with misc. receipts, random earrings and change, I decided to dig around in there to get the necessary amount instead of going home for the checkbook. Mistake number three.

While I shuffled and dug and piled change on the counter people were wandering in, half way to reaching my goal a line had formed behind me, cranky people tapping their foot and sighing loudly. Eighty cents from completing my transaction I realized I'd emptied the well. I was frantically searching pockets of the purse, between the folds of my wallet, and under the flaps of my day planner, when a neatly manicured, male hand dropped a dollar on the counter. "That ought to cover it." The masculine voice said from beside me. This was when I knew that Murphy's Law was written just for me.

I never leave the house without my hair done and make up on. I'm goofy, but I love clothes and I'm normally very organized. I hold an elected position in town (the day job), so EVERYONE knows me, which is why I generally make a point to appear put together. I've been attempting to get a small business loan for my publishing company from our one and only bank. Most of the paperwork is done, it wasn't a cut and dried thing because it is a privately owned bank, the board can take any risk they want, turn down any project they want. The board was already a little nervous about my loan because publishing is a tough business, and we're so new. But, most recently they'd been leaning in my direction by virtue of my reputation as a professional.

The good samaritan was the president of that board. When I looked up to thank him, he was looking at me the same way you'd regard a roach in your tuna sandwich. He did the scan and scowl from my head to my feet... upon which were Princesses monkey slippers - the ones with the cute monkey faces slightly covered by their cute monkey middle fingers. That's when I remembered I also wasn't wearing a bra, and I was buying cigarettes. Oh well, our little company doesn't really need the debt.

Happy Bosses Day!

2006-10-16T17:53:00.000-04:00

In consideration of National Bosses Day, some comments I found about OTHER people's bosses:

I thought my Boss was a bastard, and quit, to work for myself. My new Boss is a bastard, too ... but at least I respect him.

My boss has given automobile accident victims new hope for recovery. He walks, talks and performs rudimentary tasks, all without the benefit of a SPINE.

My boss says that what I call a glass ceiling, he calls a protective barrier.

Shame on these thankless people who fail to appreciate the great extremes the boss goes to everyday in their behalf. My employee would never say such things. She knows I'm her warrior, her shield between a productive living and the unemployment line. My employee knows that I would move heaven and earth to make her happy and she announces this fact loudly and frequently for the nominal fee of $20 a week.

What a Difference A Year Makes

2006-10-15T23:42:00.000-04:00

Unlike my dog, our cats are not fond of the visiting grandgirls. In this rare moment of solidarity they huddle on the end table in the library that they are ABSOLUTELY FORBIDDEN to huddle on.

This weekend the grandgirls and their Mom stayed over. We used the time to decorate for Halloween inside and outside, and do some other things for the upcoming party. I couldn't help thinking as I watched my daughter with her kids, how much things have changed.

Thirteen months ago, at 3 in the morning, Pap and I were standing knee deep in filth attempting to get our crack addict oldest daughter to come home. We'd been summoned there in the middle of the night by a neighbor, one of many times they'd called us because the piece of shit that fathered her two youngest children was beating her up. On this day, both eyes were rapidly blacking, her cheek was cut and the hand shaped bruises on her arms were not nearly as horrifying as the ones on her neck.

Pap had called a police officer on our way over, he met up with us at her apartment door. The three of us talked, and talked and talked to the unkempt, jittery girl huddled on the sofa bed in the living room. We could have been talking to a wall, she wouldn't press charges because "it was my fault, he never does this sober."

This wasn't the first time we'd raced through the night to try and rescue her, and the children. We always went, she's our girl, our treasure, our oldest. But on this night, something just snapped in me, and I knew I couldn't help her, she could only help herself. We were able to have the two older girls removed and custody awarded to their father. She ran with Juliette, and moved around frequently enough we couldn't get a case going with Children's Services. She called from time to time, usually to ask for money which I wouldn't send, or to come home, which we wouldn't agree to except with conditions that she wasn't willing to meet.

She did'nt tell us she was pregnant with our new baby, but she did tell her sisters. They rallied, and went and got her and our now three year old. They were both infested with lice and scabbies, she was 7 months pregnant and had not seen a doctor... or stopped drinking and using. Bean, who makes her living as a social worker, took her and Jules in. Saw to it they got medical attention, counselling and a schedule. Pap and I provided money to Bean to help offset expenses and as we saw her really trying, we started inviting her for the weekends to give her a change of scenery.

Until Brendolynn was born the energy we put off worrying would have kept a major city in lights. The baby is perfect and thriving, but we still watch closely to make sure she's coming along mentally the way she should.

It's early yet, but watching my daughter out in the yard helping her girls fill bags with leaves, her hair a silky shining curtain down her back again, the sound of her laughter ringing through the neighborhood, gives me hope that she's turned the corner. Seeing her acceptance letter from OU in the nursing program leads me to believe she remembers who she is and where she came from. She's remembered what has value in life and what is just wasting time.

It's going to be a good year. I feel my heart repairing.

Nanny Dog on Duty

2006-10-15T08:43:00.000-04:00

Ruger adores our new baby and has fussed himself crazy since Grandgirls Mom first brought her over. He sleeps by her basinet if she's in it, hovers by her baby seat if she's in it. Paces and races between grown people if she's making ANY sound at all. On this day, she was having a little tummy time with her Mom and Bren was not liking it, which made the dog insane with worry. He didn't calm down until Bren's Mom let him hop up and check her out real good. He's very gentle with her, I suspect they'll be best friends when she starts to toddle around.

Rug's behavior with the baby is interesting to me. We know he became ours because his original family had a baby after they had him, they didn't elaborate more than that. He has pretty much ignored the older grandgirls, once in awhile he'll bring some toy to Jazz for a game of fetch, but he even does that lethargically. But he loves, adores and worships this little baby. He pays her the attention we devote to a cherished object we've lost and later found.

Friday Night Lights...C-ville Style

2006-10-13T20:39:00.000-04:00

NOTICE:

The football team will be entertaining before and after tonights performance by the cheerleaders.

I live in a football town. On Friday nights every household empties out and heads to the football field. It would be a good time to rob the place, because all the cops are there too. Despite a diminutive population of under 3,000, they won the state championship in 1977. They didn't see another winning season until 2003, the year my son was a senior. We start 'em young around here, the picture is of my oldest grandgirl, Jazzmin, who's in third grade. The boys her age are already playing biddy league football. All the hitting, spiking and running of the real game, with miniature players, and miniature cheerleaders.

I don't have a problem with school spirit. I don't really have a problem with football. What I do dislike about our football program is the town's tendency to make them little demi-gods. There are men off that 1977 team who are still living in 1977. That was the pinaccle of their life. I find that so sad. To have your best day ever before you're even old enough to vote. It's not quite that bad anymore.

The 13 boys that played football with my son started together in biddy league. They were undefeated all the way to High School. High hopes don't 'cha know, the pressure on these fella's was unbelievable. Their freshman and sophomore years they won more than they lost, but you must be undefeated to go to state. Junior year they lost one game. The summer before their senior year you could cut the tension in town with a knife.

They started two a days in August. I'd watch them running past the house before daylight. No talking, just the rolling thunder of sixty pairs of feet, the column led by the senior thirteen, pounding the streets to get in shape. They did everything together, my son and his twelve best friends. Dating, studying, getting into trouble, there were always 13 boys. They play 10 games a season, more if they win the district, then sectionals and then state.

They took the field that first game of the season to record attendance. They were the team to beat. Alumni flew in for the game from everywhere. All the local papers were represented, the radio stations and even the TV. It didn't get any better, they won, and won, and won. Two games from taking the district, the quarterback hurt his wrist goofing around at practice and they lost their next two games. Still a good season, but the men around this town were devastated, and didn't hesitate to let those boys know it.

My son had never made football his life, he's interested in lots of things, so this was just a ripple on the pond of life. Most of his teammates felt the same. What was important to them was their friendship, the brotherhood they formed over their years together. At the banquet that year, the tables were set up to seat four at each. As the boys wandered in they started pushing them together, until all 13 were sitting at one big table.

Four of those boys went into the military, eight went to college and will graduate this summer, one is being bailed out of jail as I write this, drunk and disorderly. The quarterback.

Things I Wish I'd Said ... or written

2006-10-13T00:11:00.000-04:00

My friend Waldo sent me these. I don't know who said them, but I wish it had been me.

I hate sex in the movies. Tried it once. The seatfolded up, the drink spilled and that ice, well, it really chilled the mood.

My next house will have no kitchen

just vending machines and a large trash can.

Because it might as well be true. Ever since the kids moved away, we eat like teenagers most of the time. I don't know how to cook for only two or three. I won't eat leftovers. Nothing left but to eat out or order in.

"A husband is someone who,
after taking the trash out,
gives the impression that he just cleaned the whole house. "
Because it's true. Pap had surgery on his foot yesterday. He was sent home with strict instructions to SIT or LAY until Monday. He was told to put NO PRESSURE on his foot. This is the man who hasn't picked up so much as his own socks for 10 years, and yet, after these instructions and surgery... he decided to wash the dishes. Martyr is spelled P A P A B E A R.

Conspiracty Theories.

2006-10-12T19:45:00.000-04:00

Our new baby up to a whopping 6 pounds.

I stumbled upon author David Southwell's blog awhile ago, and I'm glad I did. While the subject of conspiracy theories and government lies may not seem to mix appropriately with precious, innocent babies, it does. I think about the state our country will be in when she and her sisters are my age. I worry about what kind of legacy we're leaving behind. I'm going to be watching those of my peers that I've entrusted with making the decisions for my country much more closely.

While I'm basically a happy, goofy person, blessed (or cursed) with the need to find the humour in everything... there are limits. There is nothing funny about a pedophile, a serial killer or the KKK. There's nothing funny about tracking every detail of a private citizen's life from their shopping preferences to their stock portfolios to the e-mail and phone calls they make to a friend. The lure of easier, faster, better when it comes to technology is a siren call that's hard to resist. But people have been twisting good into evil since time began.

It's been easy for me to lose track of just how fast the world is changing. I live in a small town that still announces it's lunch time with hymns from the bell tower of the Church of Christ. We have one grocery store and a pharmacist that will open the store at 3 a.m. on Saturday morning if you've hurt yourself and need your pain pills. Most of the shops on Main Street don't even take credit cards. There are no metal detectors at my high school. I wasn't paying attention to much of anything but my happy life until I heard about grocery stores issuing "shopping cards" entitling the holders to discounts. A voluntary program, the store uses the records provided by the cards to track everything from restocking to determing the brands their public prefers. "Track" is the operative word.

I was trying to imagine what I could do if I knew absolutely everything about a person. From their favorite color to their choices in breakfast cereal, and the websites they visit in secret. Blackmail comes first to mind, but that's because I'm a simple person, I like things stripped right down the bare, unfrilled bones. Manipulation is the likely action. Someone smarter than me, armed with the knowledge of everything about a group of people, is a dangerous entity. The technology to do this already exists, we need to be watching.

Take a Pill and Get a Tattoo

2006-10-11T16:03:00.000-04:00

Princess is my youngest child. She earned her nickname by years of carefully manipulating four siblings and two parents into always giving her her way. On those rare occasions when she wasn't getting what she wanted, she punished us in wily and unexpected ways. She knew better than to exhibit brat behavior, I have ammunition to combat that. She kicked our butts with wit and humour. Yesterday she completely lost her mind and got a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, chinese symbols and flowers that cover her whole back. She thinks the figures say "strength", I think it would be funny if the tattooist made them wrong and they say "punch me" or something. I know it's old fashioned to think tattoos are icky on girls. I can't help it, I just keep thinking what permanent changes to a body will start to look like as that body gets older. I should just shut up, my natural mother thought pierced ears looked cheap and weren't for "nice" girls. Times change, fashion changes....

I spent most of the day toting grandgirls mom, the three year old and the baby (who's up to a whopping 6 pounds) around on errands. At one point, Juliette had said my name so many times my ears were bleeding and I had no choice but to tell her that if she wasn't quiet for 5 minutes I was going to rip her head off and use it as a soccer ball. Lucky for me, my grandgirls already know I'm insane. Her answer "Oh Nana! That would be wery, wery messy!"

The Genius Among Us

2006-10-10T23:15:00.000-04:00

Thank You Velvet Sacks for Finding My Link Problem! Hip Hip Hooray!!!!!

(And I will be more observant in the future. Kinda scary what I may be missing when I edit a person's book.... hmmmm)

Updates and Plea for HELP!

2006-10-10T09:02:00.000-04:00

Here's the front and back view of Jazz and Bri's Halloween Spooktacular party... all pasted, glittered and now waiting for the little demons to write their guests names on the bottoms.
Aside from pulling it all together on the day, we're ready. Spiders and webs assembled, scary witch costume on the dressmakers dummy, creepy lanterns ready to hang in the dining room. Game materials ready: mummy wrap, ghost bowling, and my personal favorite - cluck. If you don't know how to play cluck, leave me a message and I'll explain. Hysterical for participants and observers alike.

This blog and I are having a small difference of opinion. For some reason, when I add links, it has decided to put spaces between them. I checked the template, everything is all lined up neatly like the first batch, and still, spaces between them. I'm applying for my handicapped license plate this afternoon. I am so technologically challenged, I have no hope of surviving in this highly technical world. If someone has a clue about why this is happening to me, and how to fix it, please share!

No word yet on my part in the Angel Tree play. We were instructed that we'd be informed by e-mail, I'm sure they do this so they don't see us cry. I'm sure the playbill will list me as something like "passerby #4". I'm sure this experience is going to send me into cardiac arrest. What was I thinking?

My girl down under has made the ultimate sacrifice to finance her trip up here for Christmas 2007. She's quit smoking. I'm not a good enough friend to make that kind of sacrifice. She is so getting the best present ever from me in 2007.

It doesn't get more random than this...