tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-247561132024-03-18T18:00:27.809-05:00The Amazing TripsNavigating The Amazing Trip Of Life With Our Amazing Triplets ... And Their Amazing Little BrotherThe Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.comBlogger2102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-19964221210728800592024-03-10T16:53:00.003-05:002024-03-10T17:03:43.004-05:00yo - yo - yo, we're hooked on the dough<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last week was Henry's spring break from school, so we took a drive to Boston. It was a great trip: we visited my sister, Beth and her son, Michael - and went out to dinner with my brother Wally and his spouse, Donna. One of the days, I went in to my company's office to work - while Henry found a gym to work out for a few hours, and Charlie found a Starbucks to get some work of his own, done. We had a chance to visit my Dad's younger sister, Peggy, who lives in Boston and spent the afternoon walking all around the city and to the New England Aquarium. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMpWSNLNwMWVVNjtaHRDa_y7R1R8mnBlN6FfklGKu5ndXn0E1AEPY8U5KduikiR5Xa48Dks-wocQfK2mSZulhGF93dPwXElRvEHo2OypaCbniEe7YXZG8t7zmzPV2ih5JSF6QEPe7WtFeJsp2XucLjbP1pEIeGuRLfes0RvYs-ExL5ziBvbII/s4032/IMG_3317.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMpWSNLNwMWVVNjtaHRDa_y7R1R8mnBlN6FfklGKu5ndXn0E1AEPY8U5KduikiR5Xa48Dks-wocQfK2mSZulhGF93dPwXElRvEHo2OypaCbniEe7YXZG8t7zmzPV2ih5JSF6QEPe7WtFeJsp2XucLjbP1pEIeGuRLfes0RvYs-ExL5ziBvbII/s320/IMG_3317.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the drive back to Burlington, we stopped by King Arthur Baking Company which I'm so proud to announce: IS IN VERMONT. OUR state: which I'm convinced is the coolest little state in the nation. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's a Bakery - A Cafe - A School - And A Store. At the factory, just down the road a spell, you can buy all kinds of flour in bulk. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_-OE5yCwdBPJEDnQgneB8TYo0KFbqcM5CT1pEYN0Nw-5CZQH7VH0VsYOeTS-Vl16w1qlmHdLlfxAfhhNBbNqQr4KDpDqvxDLpU39dL2GAvFDDwwEkjfKfxJ689i_bczXtUdDVwQ592hObsv_AC6Hz2EDLKMBxBFUTPFURBlCV7VHsf5PNDan/s4032/IMG_3328.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_-OE5yCwdBPJEDnQgneB8TYo0KFbqcM5CT1pEYN0Nw-5CZQH7VH0VsYOeTS-Vl16w1qlmHdLlfxAfhhNBbNqQr4KDpDqvxDLpU39dL2GAvFDDwwEkjfKfxJ689i_bczXtUdDVwQ592hObsv_AC6Hz2EDLKMBxBFUTPFURBlCV7VHsf5PNDan/s320/IMG_3328.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here I am with Henry... he's 6'1 and still growing. His goal was to be bigger than his brother before William returns home from Germany. While it's unlikely he'll surpass 6'4" in the next four months, he has become fanatical about working out and spends <i>hours</i> every day at the gym. He'll be entering his first powerlifting competition next week and is very happy that he can lift insane amounts of weights. I've found this is very helpful for lugging bags of insanely heavy flour. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FEIQFGRQpUGvRQ_V_bd9Zdfj_90cIMdcrwsVKKVAz-9a9X2KCrwXpUr0Davoln32LkeC5i3lzbkikii7lwGjrqXtWelgrIWF72_mvB5r2XS5MNNAQgpIu9xYftVVZn0ZfpNlF-1v_NDsdR7_IsYUmcDN8oc-KDce_xMEs5CUrxPWPnKfHptp/s4032/IMG_3330.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FEIQFGRQpUGvRQ_V_bd9Zdfj_90cIMdcrwsVKKVAz-9a9X2KCrwXpUr0Davoln32LkeC5i3lzbkikii7lwGjrqXtWelgrIWF72_mvB5r2XS5MNNAQgpIu9xYftVVZn0ZfpNlF-1v_NDsdR7_IsYUmcDN8oc-KDce_xMEs5CUrxPWPnKfHptp/s320/IMG_3330.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Here's a picture of one of the classrooms, inside. Look at all the pretty bright red matching Kitchen Aids!!! This is now on my bucket list, to drive down and take a class @ KA with a KA! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiwKnVD4egAP8-JwtWjBl8zNmZkHNQ5VlFllcFID_dHgvKJ0znZp-l0orTg7Qosp4C2ZbxMofMN0SteXVfGcJD-e2tE2Yli3hKBS9e4IX1zWRDPxa_lmwlhbGHX_a1_FKSi9YkcmNCBnZGXkHS0oXcsWluNwfbVNM257pkptUL7SS2GywXIii/s4032/IMG_3331.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiwKnVD4egAP8-JwtWjBl8zNmZkHNQ5VlFllcFID_dHgvKJ0znZp-l0orTg7Qosp4C2ZbxMofMN0SteXVfGcJD-e2tE2Yli3hKBS9e4IX1zWRDPxa_lmwlhbGHX_a1_FKSi9YkcmNCBnZGXkHS0oXcsWluNwfbVNM257pkptUL7SS2GywXIii/s320/IMG_3331.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They have clothing! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvAREnsGh6VNkLh-utx7hAmbMrrBMauYOQutxPuFUz1Lk6RM0fjzK49GuPjcZf2nwQaOFHfUKXqTuJPsnUq09Dh-J2BCNy0Q9YxlP9dy3TY4DozhcKPZehU6JJHmbVYUxpcM0QCDxsKaLlDKwAAIiU-Lh55ai3sNdRO2q2cibRkfmKs7tIVgx/s4032/IMG_3332.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvAREnsGh6VNkLh-utx7hAmbMrrBMauYOQutxPuFUz1Lk6RM0fjzK49GuPjcZf2nwQaOFHfUKXqTuJPsnUq09Dh-J2BCNy0Q9YxlP9dy3TY4DozhcKPZehU6JJHmbVYUxpcM0QCDxsKaLlDKwAAIiU-Lh55ai3sNdRO2q2cibRkfmKs7tIVgx/s320/IMG_3332.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Hats! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1yjM5iW69Prr-l7Jum63aqyu6LKW2c_Vj5bMmFr4rXB_yHZkQaV7LVMdP3YxohbJPj1LGRs1MmlkZwIdb5LcqSDwYAmyFldkKsI-3plvm7mRuJwivmDRPEQLvfk55gzEfQspBtnxtXiQt8DHIfsdabqcgRa6NbmHU3d0H9Nlwd1WkjEMz_TsC/s3088/IMG_3333.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1yjM5iW69Prr-l7Jum63aqyu6LKW2c_Vj5bMmFr4rXB_yHZkQaV7LVMdP3YxohbJPj1LGRs1MmlkZwIdb5LcqSDwYAmyFldkKsI-3plvm7mRuJwivmDRPEQLvfk55gzEfQspBtnxtXiQt8DHIfsdabqcgRa6NbmHU3d0H9Nlwd1WkjEMz_TsC/s320/IMG_3333.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Beautiful baking sheets, bowls, and all kinds of gear that I didn't know what it was, but I'm sure would make cooking and baking so much BETTER. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I'm happy to report we didn't go completely crazy. This was our haul. I bought the hat, Charlie and Henry both both shirts which they've been wearing this week. Oh how we all love to bake!! </p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t3PqcwVHB3-hAK5d5c8h-xL_bNkb0BrJl3i888CWMvCIftPV6H9lZ3UD7McwULqESL31YDsrDpfchCX-rp7G1gC7loSycHbrnK0ViMvO19gMPvcGkqKPwJU_6E8HVJN_Q-0bYNRqoNBlV0HN2cwIJ0vwbC6sCDVTtmPVscSl1mTOBtnw2Lcm/s4032/IMG_3335.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t3PqcwVHB3-hAK5d5c8h-xL_bNkb0BrJl3i888CWMvCIftPV6H9lZ3UD7McwULqESL31YDsrDpfchCX-rp7G1gC7loSycHbrnK0ViMvO19gMPvcGkqKPwJU_6E8HVJN_Q-0bYNRqoNBlV0HN2cwIJ0vwbC6sCDVTtmPVscSl1mTOBtnw2Lcm/s320/IMG_3335.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Charlie and I have a pact that we will strive to <u>not</u> buy new gear and supplies for the kitchen until we redo our kitchen. I'm not sure when exactly that'll happen: we're hoping for next year, but TBD. Will admit, the one thing we *do* miss about Texas is our brand new gourmet kitchen which we had just finished remodeling before we left on vacation. But, whenever I start to get weepy about the loss of our Wolf steam oven, I dream about our future kitchen. It might look something like this. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPY4ZImEW8BtaCKUY_mC7QAoqVqCDwpQsZut8Btp-q8qyBAOGR14P3mNxzBJ3IMQOWoKjfw-BqFcUYPKD2jzX2rE5Enmu4stTD3xf4vO31Oh2sEZe8c-96X7Ry72d8pyBACC2caju25K4e97N2oMtpaQRa-igQFyDzhbNHUQBc78hpDpDdU0p/s1057/IMG_3342.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPY4ZImEW8BtaCKUY_mC7QAoqVqCDwpQsZut8Btp-q8qyBAOGR14P3mNxzBJ3IMQOWoKjfw-BqFcUYPKD2jzX2rE5Enmu4stTD3xf4vO31Oh2sEZe8c-96X7Ry72d8pyBACC2caju25K4e97N2oMtpaQRa-igQFyDzhbNHUQBc78hpDpDdU0p/s320/IMG_3342.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Then I snap out of it and think about how <i>blessed</i> we are to have a functioning kitchen and although it is quite dated, I am reminded of our <a href="https://theamazingtrips.blogspot.com/2014/03/rip-general-electric-p7-automatic.html">old appliances in Fairfax</a> and how they lasted <b><i>forever. </i></b></p><p style="text-align: left;">(BTW: that oven fire didn't actually destroy our oven like I thought it would!) </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tqQX7Pntk8cp_B47Mb_BuN94rMG91MKXWnLJmVRds7k3NLgnQvg9-khvgDSha3uAF8tG8RevaAcKzY4dHL32fCwqNEhyphenhyphenKWkelKK72VolDV6Il9MHtV5T9i5h9II_EztrQyUisuFp_qcxMIEXHB2uBz5lWDegLKH77KRnSUR0_11ICMwxKFv8/s960/IMG_3345.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="960" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7tqQX7Pntk8cp_B47Mb_BuN94rMG91MKXWnLJmVRds7k3NLgnQvg9-khvgDSha3uAF8tG8RevaAcKzY4dHL32fCwqNEhyphenhyphenKWkelKK72VolDV6Il9MHtV5T9i5h9II_EztrQyUisuFp_qcxMIEXHB2uBz5lWDegLKH77KRnSUR0_11ICMwxKFv8/s320/IMG_3345.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Here's my setup: ready for action - new scale and bread whisk - which has been <i>great</i>. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-i6rGo6Fg30DvpoZyLEkd-ftYcRvqPt2eE9ZbXKHSDw8J97HAamO14B_8uf-cMZivXgKxZI1fLL-k5WBxH8RF9V2i7RdWJd0LzX0hQ-D6pCYpMNqeYm87ldLgSCZULdKRfV1dqGysLBCmZvsdsyh17lnJ8gXLtCin6xQR8giTMRLGHFgi31jo/s4032/IMG_3347.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-i6rGo6Fg30DvpoZyLEkd-ftYcRvqPt2eE9ZbXKHSDw8J97HAamO14B_8uf-cMZivXgKxZI1fLL-k5WBxH8RF9V2i7RdWJd0LzX0hQ-D6pCYpMNqeYm87ldLgSCZULdKRfV1dqGysLBCmZvsdsyh17lnJ8gXLtCin6xQR8giTMRLGHFgi31jo/s320/IMG_3347.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Here's the sourdough I made earlier this week, which went went quite nicely with the corned beef and cabbage that Charlie had made for dinner. It was delicious - but next time, I think we will cook it longer. We read that you can cook corned beef for up to 24 hours in a slow cooker. That sounds like a fun experiment we may have to test out for St. Patrick's Day. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEPg-UtjMMVXw3vRhKOmyfplb8p8r3ARmUD9f-E_V9FdOIcmCClraefY92Zhh8vuf9H68voHMA243QqUDuE-oEhyphenhyphengVLvaq8YrTqgp991Ipnar902pJJKN8RYZSB8CCfsmlhCqeW0Gydhjcq3V_dvc_8wHnfj4ctnztdqjN5Ci_THceH1OYie8/s4032/IMG_3352.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEPg-UtjMMVXw3vRhKOmyfplb8p8r3ARmUD9f-E_V9FdOIcmCClraefY92Zhh8vuf9H68voHMA243QqUDuE-oEhyphenhyphengVLvaq8YrTqgp991Ipnar902pJJKN8RYZSB8CCfsmlhCqeW0Gydhjcq3V_dvc_8wHnfj4ctnztdqjN5Ci_THceH1OYie8/s320/IMG_3352.HEIC" width="240" /></a><p></p><p style="text-align: left;">The "crumb" of the bread is the soft part within the crust. Real sourdough bakers will say things like, "LOOK AT THIS CRUMB!" LOOK AT IT! Doesn't it look beautiful? I still have a lot to learn with shapes and fun patterns, but appearance aside: this is the best tasting bread I've ever had. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD2Yy1E62lk9g3GDP28UPngnCdds9rnfSpjmz53HD-1WIFw4Rdzuzle0A-GQ9AuVxnSeJKe5ANlmvheV0ViPZn7FRCklb8PH_ymrJeEHkx3WPEwpL0qrJqpKlFYbaLqlOmySInzMwLzy9ojY8Hcs5ziOBzu_zOVIOvi2PqCkVoosZHVoI-NIk/s4032/IMG_3353.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQD2Yy1E62lk9g3GDP28UPngnCdds9rnfSpjmz53HD-1WIFw4Rdzuzle0A-GQ9AuVxnSeJKe5ANlmvheV0ViPZn7FRCklb8PH_ymrJeEHkx3WPEwpL0qrJqpKlFYbaLqlOmySInzMwLzy9ojY8Hcs5ziOBzu_zOVIOvi2PqCkVoosZHVoI-NIk/s320/IMG_3353.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">Another highlight of the week was receiving a case of wine from our niece, Alice, who lives in Northern California and works at <a href="https://handleycellars.com/winery/">Handley Cellar</a> vineyards. Charlie's brother, George (Alice's dad) had sent us a couple of bottles for Christmas, and Charlie thought they were so good - that very night, he went online, bought a case, and joined the wine of the month club. They'd been waiting to ship the wine since December because they wanted to make sure it wasn't at risk of freezing in transit. Since we had warmer weather this week - it was finally shipped and got here just before the storm that is currently dropping two-feet of snow on our mountains. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2FoUhueGvuQqMONf4b_rpCriOOmvyZIg5TPTFUK1iEGvVsbJ9g4fqnJYeOfB51Xg_h55ILMLB4U3fKT-P14ZtKiq-p4bw3ndUN7aYNuyVnpO9qhD9FJSfmfp-9Ezr_CKqgmLaE36bSBcqjvEHaCosBNWYyeAVsA8iVauTGpOzI3qsIOPbSyW/s4032/IMG_3373.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2FoUhueGvuQqMONf4b_rpCriOOmvyZIg5TPTFUK1iEGvVsbJ9g4fqnJYeOfB51Xg_h55ILMLB4U3fKT-P14ZtKiq-p4bw3ndUN7aYNuyVnpO9qhD9FJSfmfp-9Ezr_CKqgmLaE36bSBcqjvEHaCosBNWYyeAVsA8iVauTGpOzI3qsIOPbSyW/s320/IMG_3373.HEIC" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">So, we have a house full of yummy wine, and another batch of bread going in to the oven, today. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSgpF5hjVkCF4sWuX8QJ_vraxwVKeFzmdCrUfE5OO1SYngH2Y0Jb0hS6TgUp95_W6TNXqZN1N-5zv8sOSw3dDh_Nmj-jWbXt9lGLsJ9GqKxGbaX4YYqvnZnar6jZSrMARwNnXvOHFMSep1pKuy90bLUPZ1eltlYMF__tmE2bUiBvH4nrWvJqKs/s4032/IMG_3377.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSgpF5hjVkCF4sWuX8QJ_vraxwVKeFzmdCrUfE5OO1SYngH2Y0Jb0hS6TgUp95_W6TNXqZN1N-5zv8sOSw3dDh_Nmj-jWbXt9lGLsJ9GqKxGbaX4YYqvnZnar6jZSrMARwNnXvOHFMSep1pKuy90bLUPZ1eltlYMF__tmE2bUiBvH4nrWvJqKs/s320/IMG_3377.HEIC" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">AFTER TODAY, I've told Charlie that this was my prayer and <b><i>intent</i></b> for the REST OF THE WEEK. Even though I mostly wear wool and flannel, which are very stretchable, my friends have told me that if I'm going to lament going up a pant size, I must break up with King Arthur. </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY7-pcRRqFGmrMf0l1LNd-SFJcDM1z4EZJD_gnazTIUvv9TpubAJxErR1UuCBNvIc_r-8yV6b5meG-i36QiCEhbdYYUgJyd_-2li3WEJS2o-C6pMW7bTc04rEJB3pwQDmcIPXauAMsFFNeLWh3B8riu6nWd7TS7oIHdeaWNZAOzpfVHy00FOY/s960/IMG_3348.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="960" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvY7-pcRRqFGmrMf0l1LNd-SFJcDM1z4EZJD_gnazTIUvv9TpubAJxErR1UuCBNvIc_r-8yV6b5meG-i36QiCEhbdYYUgJyd_-2li3WEJS2o-C6pMW7bTc04rEJB3pwQDmcIPXauAMsFFNeLWh3B8riu6nWd7TS7oIHdeaWNZAOzpfVHy00FOY/s320/IMG_3348.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This was Charlie's response, as he was awaiting his haircut. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DFDhaVe_MNUDLXIJ0tuwgwOApyalub-8n2Pq0tNQvwup0T1JjMsoOsKpMY16ZNKg95wH3rXFLDAxhLVpwQlGsQrmiaFGXomKhhlpOLaahTkkrih0KuIW6gnJm2lGPqQUTeBBkoI71akK3x6QNiwikWc9LaqJTH054SzGXNVZIQJRVYSxDYi4/s4032/IMG_3380.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2DFDhaVe_MNUDLXIJ0tuwgwOApyalub-8n2Pq0tNQvwup0T1JjMsoOsKpMY16ZNKg95wH3rXFLDAxhLVpwQlGsQrmiaFGXomKhhlpOLaahTkkrih0KuIW6gnJm2lGPqQUTeBBkoI71akK3x6QNiwikWc9LaqJTH054SzGXNVZIQJRVYSxDYi4/s320/IMG_3380.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br />So it is, I've become quite the domestic: I cut hair AND bake bread. <p></p><p style="text-align: left;">Now, if only I could just savor the smell of it without inhaling an entire loaf, I'd be all set. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-60077899508554843382024-02-25T11:01:00.003-06:002024-02-25T11:01:41.625-06:00Vermont just keeps getting better and better<p>Our good friend, and former boys' Scoutmaster, Keith, came to visit us last week. Keith recently moved to Vermont from Texas - and was in town to help support a STEM Merit Badge University day at UVM. He arrived Friday night with a mason jar full of sourdough starter and thus we launched in to an entire weekend of baking. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-aBzY_HNI_IoYcgPNBOwkpdv5HUuPT5SyFxX1eYzGG42VvGal1oPjpbsf2X1JG6Ys-VKOhnpKa0rleRS-nIscYCJJuDUgZhpPqpVS4O0oAJK_ZA3WZ6pBeOkmJgNHhXfzNmBztFFUDv0ifw6Z1yAiyDGjFM32QXF__GGyWzRf-WX3uGNHa7t/s4032/IMG_3288.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim-aBzY_HNI_IoYcgPNBOwkpdv5HUuPT5SyFxX1eYzGG42VvGal1oPjpbsf2X1JG6Ys-VKOhnpKa0rleRS-nIscYCJJuDUgZhpPqpVS4O0oAJK_ZA3WZ6pBeOkmJgNHhXfzNmBztFFUDv0ifw6Z1yAiyDGjFM32QXF__GGyWzRf-WX3uGNHa7t/s320/IMG_3288.HEIC" width="240" /></a> </p><p>(So much for our plan to try and shed 25 pounds by April. Ha!) </p><p>For whatever reason, when the rest of the world was going wild over sourdough during the pandemic, we never even attempted it. But Keith did - and over the past four years - he <b>perfected</b> his recipe and technique. As an original New Yorker, he also perfected the art of bagel-making, which he also shared with us, last weekend. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Y6w26geGAP0ACm4tDeRGy2AZtjwUAvtxt3pST_J4XKJ0U9bzArY2JolvlEJoP48CziJPRInBePYgPUkMeQlfhuAKWSE3P7V4dvO_DwqzdJ1j7GdXjjjPCaII8x2OiX4bafry38or8YqDJA25nPYfxWjjk23CelJehw21qFEYmeGEquixjsuS/s4032/IMG_3244.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Y6w26geGAP0ACm4tDeRGy2AZtjwUAvtxt3pST_J4XKJ0U9bzArY2JolvlEJoP48CziJPRInBePYgPUkMeQlfhuAKWSE3P7V4dvO_DwqzdJ1j7GdXjjjPCaII8x2OiX4bafry38or8YqDJA25nPYfxWjjk23CelJehw21qFEYmeGEquixjsuS/s320/IMG_3244.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>In case you didn't know (I didn't!) sourdough has been around for thousands of years, originating in Egypt. It doesn't use "commercial yeast" to rise, but rather, a "starter" which is fermented flour and water. It rose to big fame (get it, <i>rose?</i>) in the US, during the California Gold Rush of 1849, because miners could easily make or obtain starter. And that's why sourdough bread is such a big deal in San Francisco. Don't you love history? I do!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBARoIm46SBy7Oroy4CWFjAsvtXFAbHg2e9FstHT_ZDhPI3GA81NTkcGdHju7PNHkdcUBlTbCnZMyNIMl6WgwxMBXR7Ufj4RLJyCNDhoCCkO5Cobyp9aQf5Dw2vzH0-Pl8khI40NuD6abx5jotrIxpiOSu0YfwaEFWQM-YpYvayENMpahH_abT/s4032/IMG_5863.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBARoIm46SBy7Oroy4CWFjAsvtXFAbHg2e9FstHT_ZDhPI3GA81NTkcGdHju7PNHkdcUBlTbCnZMyNIMl6WgwxMBXR7Ufj4RLJyCNDhoCCkO5Cobyp9aQf5Dw2vzH0-Pl8khI40NuD6abx5jotrIxpiOSu0YfwaEFWQM-YpYvayENMpahH_abT/s320/IMG_5863.JPEG" width="240" /></a></p><p>The sourdough bread we baked with Keith was <i>phenomenal.</i> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWKvOWK0OgSHyD6HgCVZsYt9Xta6DUk48ZMR3NdY_Y8S4OQhq70pd8s8WLrrYRYZjDYwoaxHDjgShQ33u_LGpW-ODhP5TeIo3z2V_d5kA5RnBfEEwHLC4kbGPFKBNzUcsFPEjpuhyphenhyphenu8v3PfRB4UjzZdr7GhKSaH-YAlCUfePjl5YEOE8TTJ1o/s4032/IMG_3253.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEWKvOWK0OgSHyD6HgCVZsYt9Xta6DUk48ZMR3NdY_Y8S4OQhq70pd8s8WLrrYRYZjDYwoaxHDjgShQ33u_LGpW-ODhP5TeIo3z2V_d5kA5RnBfEEwHLC4kbGPFKBNzUcsFPEjpuhyphenhyphenu8v3PfRB4UjzZdr7GhKSaH-YAlCUfePjl5YEOE8TTJ1o/s320/IMG_3253.HEIC" width="320" /></a></p><p>It was a heavenly experience consuming this bread, hot out of the oven, with a pat of butter. My spirit left my body for a moment. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXsyDWKIeqAYzh_K1sQKPGoNZKr5lcZmJeL0Hi7xGQYgG0CU90Bz3koT4prch5A2-EUOtgPRLwN9HZGNmzeP9DSRt0OREPKcowBhUWtMtL0Pp1VTWEjKSmFD4FfWwsKX6qMlAfAgFMvWcGovZAFK2Oj5_1jXE908VasLLarEsBX8_NaGSzWs7/s4032/IMG_3254.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXsyDWKIeqAYzh_K1sQKPGoNZKr5lcZmJeL0Hi7xGQYgG0CU90Bz3koT4prch5A2-EUOtgPRLwN9HZGNmzeP9DSRt0OREPKcowBhUWtMtL0Pp1VTWEjKSmFD4FfWwsKX6qMlAfAgFMvWcGovZAFK2Oj5_1jXE908VasLLarEsBX8_NaGSzWs7/s320/IMG_3254.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>The bagels, however, which we made with yeast, sank like rocks when we boiled them. What we learned during the process, is that the 3-gallon bag of yeast we bought at Costco two (five? ten?) years ago, and have been storing in our cabinet, is completely kaput. We might have clued in to this earlier seeing as we bake with it frequently, and often lament that our dough has a dismal rise. But alas, the light didn't fully come on until Keith observed that the bagels which had been stored in the refrigerator overnight, were flat as pancakes, and he had to <i>scrape them</i> off the bottom of the pot as they boiled. His comment, "This isn't yeast. This is <i>least</i>." </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyH-cYAkAGAq4tJYBkIB3QTG9K7a-q2Af45pm4ityzjB3XNtK-yLNN4EU6pMmRY-RO8wdVyjW4HxBtyKIGYqfcF3SxSqWDQbEndHIJL0-aF3KHYIlLRz0TnjoQXzroDWXEotuw6E1v5u_rCvRrqVfwP-XoxjPg2-XeMbhkLPuUJyZuwq98SWw/s4032/IMG_3248.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggyH-cYAkAGAq4tJYBkIB3QTG9K7a-q2Af45pm4ityzjB3XNtK-yLNN4EU6pMmRY-RO8wdVyjW4HxBtyKIGYqfcF3SxSqWDQbEndHIJL0-aF3KHYIlLRz0TnjoQXzroDWXEotuw6E1v5u_rCvRrqVfwP-XoxjPg2-XeMbhkLPuUJyZuwq98SWw/s320/IMG_3248.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>That didn't stop us from scarfing them down, though, while making a mental note that we would buy fresh yeast and repeat the process. Soon. </p><p>Soon arrived yesterday. Charlie and I spent the afternoon in the kitchen - he on one side making bagels, me on the other side, "feeding" my starter and making more batches of sourdough. </p><p>After letting everything "proof" in the refrigerator last night, this morning was the grand test. </p><p>The bagels had risen! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWBzORrepVH22mkXvhVryQTO8L_OfdJ5rt_-NoVhHkFSJmzftegbQK_Hg_cTKvmkvlRQJO5eKfEcoTDUti5T0LIpN2qzcaZj1bRYAXDSSxVyJZDahlIkwIzdwLj7sy52SwCQc8cg0fakRA_64Us_6vo9jlJIa3mnKgy5nqi3uCMC_yYuQ5ny1/s4032/IMG_3289.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWBzORrepVH22mkXvhVryQTO8L_OfdJ5rt_-NoVhHkFSJmzftegbQK_Hg_cTKvmkvlRQJO5eKfEcoTDUti5T0LIpN2qzcaZj1bRYAXDSSxVyJZDahlIkwIzdwLj7sy52SwCQc8cg0fakRA_64Us_6vo9jlJIa3mnKgy5nqi3uCMC_yYuQ5ny1/s320/IMG_3289.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>They floated! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2F9BoL6GswY4iD_TPDUMDQIGWoZ5Dm_Pekzsqadl8KE5RTK1CbsbAxhY3dcJod_RM_m56fv8lcQoPoH3V2BpWyZZE-b1Gm_-FSsRPf5DBeKf1bRuKxwQreFvbFBeJudElGlG6mg31W4EhyphenhyphenCraxiVKDBBxpu5Aerz591K_kPYF_7nixQN4g2_/s4032/IMG_3290.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY2F9BoL6GswY4iD_TPDUMDQIGWoZ5Dm_Pekzsqadl8KE5RTK1CbsbAxhY3dcJod_RM_m56fv8lcQoPoH3V2BpWyZZE-b1Gm_-FSsRPf5DBeKf1bRuKxwQreFvbFBeJudElGlG6mg31W4EhyphenhyphenCraxiVKDBBxpu5Aerz591K_kPYF_7nixQN4g2_/s320/IMG_3290.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>They baked to perfection! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJnT2qbY7hzILF0O3gxGnERandfK3OwMv6XwHwnvkr1przK007Mv8SmTGJ2QLINn7Nl9r_pEK1iX6lP26H-vXRBLfIGVHOIJMGxDK3igsvuXrOZ9kimti5m2pTflt_qLHqG4Z5aBouTrzyOQmnbXlhmM2BiOi94sf-MNZdMDP0GvA3pETP0fD/s4032/IMG_3292.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSJnT2qbY7hzILF0O3gxGnERandfK3OwMv6XwHwnvkr1przK007Mv8SmTGJ2QLINn7Nl9r_pEK1iX6lP26H-vXRBLfIGVHOIJMGxDK3igsvuXrOZ9kimti5m2pTflt_qLHqG4Z5aBouTrzyOQmnbXlhmM2BiOi94sf-MNZdMDP0GvA3pETP0fD/s320/IMG_3292.HEIC" width="240" /></a></p><p>I'll bake the loaves of sourdough, tonight, just in time for the scores of college students that will be arriving home for a monthly home-cooked dinner. Currently debating if we should serve more than bread and butter....? Honestly, that's enough for me. With a nice Pinot. </p><p>The most exciting development in all of this, however, is that during this baking frenzy we've discovered that King Arthur, the KING OF FLOUR, is *just* down the road a spell. </p><p><i><a href="https://www.kingarthurbaking.com">King Arthur flour is in Vermont.</a> </i></p><p>The factory. </p><p><b>The store.</b> </p><p><b><i>The cafe. </i></b> </p><p>Anywhooo. You'll never guess where Charlie and I are headed this week? </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-54709588445404027622023-12-02T18:12:00.003-06:002023-12-02T18:34:50.802-06:00the fourth quarter rundown <p style="text-align: left;">So where were we? Oh yes ... I'd start updating my blog with increased frequency! The fact is, I do think about this blog nearly every day, even if I've been positively dismal about keeping it current. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Life is so different around our house these days, most notably - cleaner and much more organized. Although when I went upstairs to drop something off in Henry's room for the first time in several weeks, I quickly recognized that more random and routine inspections might be warranted. I'm not as strict nor as disciplined with "just one" child at home, because it doesn't feel like the house is perpetually teetering on the edge of a hoarder's dream. Turns out the abysmal mess is just limited to the upstairs where that just one child predominantly resides.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNPj33fYRUq45xpqqEBpiJhJAUn36EypA5jDYzw86ExrIpnTIkKYIB6k_mveDpDUgK2VJbi4puXJliqFEgSsMIA-71etAVHAGGIjU8pT0ZHw50CErT6lnec3wK6zWtXAXHamqqm9XR62fG6rnZ8a0LVlDuCFWNND5980xmfuZfi9BWpy97C8Uj" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNPj33fYRUq45xpqqEBpiJhJAUn36EypA5jDYzw86ExrIpnTIkKYIB6k_mveDpDUgK2VJbi4puXJliqFEgSsMIA-71etAVHAGGIjU8pT0ZHw50CErT6lnec3wK6zWtXAXHamqqm9XR62fG6rnZ8a0LVlDuCFWNND5980xmfuZfi9BWpy97C8Uj" width="180" /></a></div><br />Not only did I find several of our dishes which if I didn't know better, might have thought were part of some biology experiment cultivating multi-cellular life forms, the dirty laundry pile on the floor <i>moved</i> before my very eyes. As I quickly shut the door before whatever it was in the pile came after me, I thought it's really a good thing he sleeps with his window open, even in the dead of winter. I am quite certain, if the stale air in my teenager's son room had hit me, I might have passed out with a smile on my face before I could summon the exterminator. Smile on my face because these are all such precious times for me. I'm savoring all of it - even the messy stuff - because that rapid reduction from a headcount of six to three, has shaken me to just how fleeting this time all is. <p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLLi14YPjK7qETciBiqSoNPR2pxNrz-5N2UF991-TkYBK-aTKz5R9CXJXB0WuPdWwPKbyRUyd0KlHuvFLtRinGj4Jx-kb7cvZpGAPYce9_oTj8gD6RxtZr31LxzzAehRIDlnQgZ53wqKyBxKGNt4INMFX-firZVt0KoRTmuo49RQU9MBpXrWmB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLLi14YPjK7qETciBiqSoNPR2pxNrz-5N2UF991-TkYBK-aTKz5R9CXJXB0WuPdWwPKbyRUyd0KlHuvFLtRinGj4Jx-kb7cvZpGAPYce9_oTj8gD6RxtZr31LxzzAehRIDlnQgZ53wqKyBxKGNt4INMFX-firZVt0KoRTmuo49RQU9MBpXrWmB" width="180" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">Henry does miss his siblings, but they connect quite often. As in, every day. Thanks to modern technology, he is able to play video games with his brother in Germany, and the kids have a group chat that is always lighting up. This recent screenshot of a telephone call they had and shared with me, made my heart so happy. I pray that they are always so close and William never loses the ability to make all of his siblings (and himself) crack up. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqkMv4js0Oz8YybtER4Vu2Awkhx_JNzBzXqMFaiykoKGOJXP_yMD2KwOJS-Ljty_9GvTcLGYfgYikH234b_VBEeAKDVSYDy3Itnh1idAvO0xVyyWpRDC-YipstbMWpKeFJeQNyKFBt_WQuSWkD3C8AX-vjGSaK8VeBjfig0pX_NVRij1UD-g4P" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="498" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqkMv4js0Oz8YybtER4Vu2Awkhx_JNzBzXqMFaiykoKGOJXP_yMD2KwOJS-Ljty_9GvTcLGYfgYikH234b_VBEeAKDVSYDy3Itnh1idAvO0xVyyWpRDC-YipstbMWpKeFJeQNyKFBt_WQuSWkD3C8AX-vjGSaK8VeBjfig0pX_NVRij1UD-g4P" width="144" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">It also helps that we have a standing date with the girls where once a month, we will drive down the street, pick them up from school, and make the less than 10-minute drive back to our house for a home cooked meal. Last month, Elizabeth called and said that a few kids from the cross-country team were craving fajitas. If they brought the supplies, could they come over and use our kitchen? I'd been at a campout with our scouts, and arrived home to find the UVM freshman cross-country team in our kitchen. </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgq7cXe3dDXVRH6OYrNec9VBHJUdRYH8zElum4jAoTJzI6NscYCZY5hp6-ZDPXkwEUpmxbBMyoPWXxSyAd5jdoqpl3lxxyU24YoMFfIQVS2h9RFCFeYbvbLTYY9vkZpgMEgMjLIYwDEpixs2pT9o6RYxI__90YNyu8j1FWq4cK-_ejHZOPepzy9" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="1170" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgq7cXe3dDXVRH6OYrNec9VBHJUdRYH8zElum4jAoTJzI6NscYCZY5hp6-ZDPXkwEUpmxbBMyoPWXxSyAd5jdoqpl3lxxyU24YoMFfIQVS2h9RFCFeYbvbLTYY9vkZpgMEgMjLIYwDEpixs2pT9o6RYxI__90YNyu8j1FWq4cK-_ejHZOPepzy9" width="193" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">As in, the <b>entire</b> UVM freshman cross-country team, minus I believe only two.</p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQf9jPHHiyhBsZPlC7pThicGWPjWz54FocIEjbThhqEMVmx6PrqnyP7Nf4uUOv57CLadicV-wUenlA7-TTZLFJop0spwSkMl8t7qp46rRi9oJ8ErIeV4V-hpF4a8gOlSXQ8NNQY0gDOLZz2KVdP1q3eCIPjs-q8_x98DQLeMmsvaZ2ufYIHIKn" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="1168" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQf9jPHHiyhBsZPlC7pThicGWPjWz54FocIEjbThhqEMVmx6PrqnyP7Nf4uUOv57CLadicV-wUenlA7-TTZLFJop0spwSkMl8t7qp46rRi9oJ8ErIeV4V-hpF4a8gOlSXQ8NNQY0gDOLZz2KVdP1q3eCIPjs-q8_x98DQLeMmsvaZ2ufYIHIKn" width="200" /></a></div><p></p>So glad we picked out that table that could expand to seat 3X our immediate family size. Never realized just how handy it would come in, but it is indeed the perfect furniture piece if your dining room ever needs to be transformed to a cafeteria. <br /><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7-qGxnqG5wcbAgvitvXJc2nhAyTIQ9QG3P9m9Wmr1i6lHJJCOaUdhSR_7u6fZUB6fWR8J2h002SIzNa94SIeOK_KZ7NBEX1fdFNqU3NcUoQ-P27xZFum1qBkUkB8S0AD6tpSjHhIo3IeFVXQXvhUMfoFf9DE-yN9VZb1lLR8J0ETo76X-XYsn" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="1170" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7-qGxnqG5wcbAgvitvXJc2nhAyTIQ9QG3P9m9Wmr1i6lHJJCOaUdhSR_7u6fZUB6fWR8J2h002SIzNa94SIeOK_KZ7NBEX1fdFNqU3NcUoQ-P27xZFum1qBkUkB8S0AD6tpSjHhIo3IeFVXQXvhUMfoFf9DE-yN9VZb1lLR8J0ETo76X-XYsn" width="320" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p>Last week, we had all three girls home, Elizabeth, Carolyn, and Lucy - our "honorary" daughter that moved to Vermont from Texas and is studying nursing at UVM. Lucy is a good friend of the girls, and was in our Texas scout troop. It's been so much fun having her here, even if she did finish all the puzzles in our house over Thanksgiving break. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYvoc53YO8zaT44UDaIG5QbQhpPSZOtD1O4LcwtCwc7c1qfs0Q22UTGSbDtgibEEm7tcLfq_hYSSh2zsQDvBQ5ozgxz7XEneQt116z63giJCog_9EwJPa3VnJIT-NOk5QY6vTEYmXBkaC_xhXX-gY3Ra2BuCeCmJFFMOXYNBeXwlALfdpRqVFt" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgYvoc53YO8zaT44UDaIG5QbQhpPSZOtD1O4LcwtCwc7c1qfs0Q22UTGSbDtgibEEm7tcLfq_hYSSh2zsQDvBQ5ozgxz7XEneQt116z63giJCog_9EwJPa3VnJIT-NOk5QY6vTEYmXBkaC_xhXX-gY3Ra2BuCeCmJFFMOXYNBeXwlALfdpRqVFt" width="320" /></a></p><p>She also introduced us to an incredibly good Jack Daniel's chocolate pecan pie, hailing from her grandmother's Mississippi, the likes of which we've never experienced. Absolutely yes: Lucy can stay.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7dBv3VLoACriu1VWvF10ZHLFoCmIuHKT6STE-E2qKPk1QBmIDNefN_4RBQww6UL9NFLUV_c10l63I11ZSpyMz5haVhtZj_O5rtx8SDX__6wDUOsBthgJId4uwB0KZYtODg8f6TZrx3cDmq7ywKB8mOA4ae0KOIcu2HRJQBZmQOPmtLuNVNdY3" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7dBv3VLoACriu1VWvF10ZHLFoCmIuHKT6STE-E2qKPk1QBmIDNefN_4RBQww6UL9NFLUV_c10l63I11ZSpyMz5haVhtZj_O5rtx8SDX__6wDUOsBthgJId4uwB0KZYtODg8f6TZrx3cDmq7ywKB8mOA4ae0KOIcu2HRJQBZmQOPmtLuNVNdY3" width="180" /></a></div><p></p><p></p></div></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Carolyn has been having a blast on the UVM rowing team and with all of her classes, and although both she and her sister have each changed their college major no less than 12 times since the start of the semester - it definitely feels like she is headed in the right direction. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIDpXwumWeXSSse_a1x10R7fHeEp7ysdCFgyROF_9JuiXYTA3kcw5jNA2k4R6BDGHdfv0037m1sdgOSZufAEPvCObl10qtVieCU_mbSgcAzfRp9B2cEI4AyVw-7UZK3cxN_1Ag8F0jIf0_AHMDQoiSTWdj3VOHyAmTXepcfRVf_kqbzF07HV0m" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="1170" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIDpXwumWeXSSse_a1x10R7fHeEp7ysdCFgyROF_9JuiXYTA3kcw5jNA2k4R6BDGHdfv0037m1sdgOSZufAEPvCObl10qtVieCU_mbSgcAzfRp9B2cEI4AyVw-7UZK3cxN_1Ag8F0jIf0_AHMDQoiSTWdj3VOHyAmTXepcfRVf_kqbzF07HV0m" width="319" /></a></div></div></div><p style="text-align: left;">Over the summer, I happened to notice that Carolyn's hair was looking a little thin because as the kids can all attest: nothing gets past my eyes. Unless I'm not wearing my readers and then I'm blind as a bat. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMfsmq7mYRDzkffck6y-c0ety9H11EcLCZRVmwJoJ8ciNI7oAzj8ECCRb5Zn0yo1d_cvlVwYJrcTSYbqLhGOErAvC6BvwwoVU4nQV3SQdau2Grb0jiXVG5cAEkLjurEmxSeaKS3qnr-NX8pUNyv0waxKbf_CPN3eLdJceo6HDD0kcJCOXebaeH" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4018" data-original-width="2276" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMfsmq7mYRDzkffck6y-c0ety9H11EcLCZRVmwJoJ8ciNI7oAzj8ECCRb5Zn0yo1d_cvlVwYJrcTSYbqLhGOErAvC6BvwwoVU4nQV3SQdau2Grb0jiXVG5cAEkLjurEmxSeaKS3qnr-NX8pUNyv0waxKbf_CPN3eLdJceo6HDD0kcJCOXebaeH" width="136" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">When it didn't appear that her hair was getting any thicker despite all the fancy conditioners that claim to increase volume - during her recent visit to the doctor, I asked that they run a blood panel. A few days later, when the results came back and I learned that her calcium levels were <i>above</i> the average range, and TSH an order of magnitude <i>below</i> the average range, it took less than 30 seconds of me Googling her lab results to determine she was terminal. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdmKrO9RX48nWKrLjfpmHvBFNWQ11yskn5cEQtQi9kcJgogbORrt9O4geukh800rwxK3tj1wkUH-PW3LCuSwVnGD_0coUAYEdm8fW2xy15pswT1ABH5690z1Q0FaGawJ6K5Zl--yBDwn5mjkcIvhMCH8loUf6emWSbZQILNC1_4QWo5rNMl3He" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjdmKrO9RX48nWKrLjfpmHvBFNWQ11yskn5cEQtQi9kcJgogbORrt9O4geukh800rwxK3tj1wkUH-PW3LCuSwVnGD_0coUAYEdm8fW2xy15pswT1ABH5690z1Q0FaGawJ6K5Zl--yBDwn5mjkcIvhMCH8loUf6emWSbZQILNC1_4QWo5rNMl3He" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;">To say that my mind went to the worst case scenario is a gross understatement. I don't know why the mind does that to us, or my mind does that to me specifically (does no one else have this affliction??), but I honestly could not function for nearly three days. Thank goodness Carolyn was off living her best life in college - still getting up every morning at 5:30 AM to row - and didn't witness the spectacle that her mother had become as she summoned all of her prayer warrior friends, while tearily slumping about the house, despairing a life without her. </p><p style="text-align: left;">The happy news, we went back to the doctor last week and although all of her numbers are not yet back - the preliminary results are extremely positive. Also, she stopped taking biotin, which it turns out can make the TSH levels go completely wacky. I've since STOPPED THINKING ABOUT IT and am doing my best to direct my energy to our upcoming Christmas vacation to Europe. </p><p style="text-align: left;">We're taking our first family trip across the pond and are really looking forward to seeing all of the sights. The most important of which will be our William.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnthAPP2iIN3LDdwt3N4M8k4zU6izsqeNLtXtFk6_Q0aSdAFMLqELmnkMlv9tzJMPCUiM9kRJYoSJpSDNR9aycK9M17wSPwP3mN1gITY3AxozJecM8FUSySkG4woCpzIh_SoGA4EHoasdOxJS37v3BpGJDdGRAUG-mwxWI4C5DNZ6giLQhWjaq" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnthAPP2iIN3LDdwt3N4M8k4zU6izsqeNLtXtFk6_Q0aSdAFMLqELmnkMlv9tzJMPCUiM9kRJYoSJpSDNR9aycK9M17wSPwP3mN1gITY3AxozJecM8FUSySkG4woCpzIh_SoGA4EHoasdOxJS37v3BpGJDdGRAUG-mwxWI4C5DNZ6giLQhWjaq" width="320" /></a></p><div style="text-align: left;">Of course THIS ONE hasn't been keeping me up at night. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiC3vmRA6KwJ8lGTlaYIa9fgt6cErWIKz5YIv6v2D7q0Gd9XwVrELx5sl9VRWK80sQ2FEivBSZp_jg_L6F0h7e9kDuRwWB_Ld271jxUmnplI6noDJHEVg8MEg2CTP1ICDi1Uay3LobQ3RsDpMnFbG5v6Mxd0jBIfFn_lbJ3xtyPxIFq7Gp-Lun9" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 238); clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiC3vmRA6KwJ8lGTlaYIa9fgt6cErWIKz5YIv6v2D7q0Gd9XwVrELx5sl9VRWK80sQ2FEivBSZp_jg_L6F0h7e9kDuRwWB_Ld271jxUmnplI6noDJHEVg8MEg2CTP1ICDi1Uay3LobQ3RsDpMnFbG5v6Mxd0jBIfFn_lbJ3xtyPxIFq7Gp-Lun9" width="180" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Oh, meine nerven. To think I was ever skittish about when they were little. </div><div><p></p></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-39973395478574687032023-09-10T09:02:00.003-05:002023-09-10T09:13:26.140-05:00the phenomenon of free "me" time <p>This morning, I woke up at 4:40 AM to take Charlie to the airport for a 6:00 flight. The beauty of living in a small town, with a small airport, is we left the house by 4:53 and were at the airport by 5:01. By the time I returned home, he had already checked through security, purchased a cup of coffee, and was sitting at his gate. </p><p>When I arrived home, Henry was awake preparing his breakfast, which consisted of a chocolate protein shake. Henry's been on a <b><i>major</i></b> health kick and in addition to being scrupulous about his diet, works out for at least 2-3 hours, every single day. Seeing the transformation in his physique over the past few months has been <i>incredible;</i> but seeing his devotion and discipline to following this regimented program he has established for himself is even <i>more</i> awe-inspiring. I've always known he was incredibly headstrong. Now he has the chest, shoulders, arms, back and legs to go with it. </p><p>After trying his hand working at the local grocery store last year, Henry decided that rather than sell food, he wanted to <b>cook</b> food, so is now working at a nearby restaurant; posturing himself for a team lead position. Quite ambitious for a 16-year old, but he feels he's ready. The only catch is that he works the morning shift, so has to be there by 6:00 AM on Saturday and Sunday morning to fire up the oven. Thankfully, we live along the Champlain Bike Trail, and the restaurant is also along the Trail - so he can easily ride his bike to and fro. He can actually get there faster than if I drive him, and, since his gym is across the street from the restaurant - he can pop over for his work out, then ride his bike home. </p><p>All this to say, after Henry left this morning at 5:55, I realized that <b>I have the entire house to myself for the next 11 hours with nothing scheduled. </b>All the laundry is done. The house is clean. The yard is in good shape. The plants are watered, bills are paid. The fridge is stocked. I'm racking my brain and cannot remember the last time I had the house all to myself for that span of time with nothing pressing to do? It might have been early October 2004, before I was admitted to the hospital? </p><p>I poured myself a cup of hot tea, lit the fire - because the sensation of autumn is in the glorious Vermont air - and snuggled up with my day planner to contemplate what in the world I wanted to achieve, today. </p><p><i>If anything at all! </i></p><p>Two sips in, my phone rang. It was Elizabeth calling to alert me that she was on her way to a 7:00 AM appointment for an MRI on her knee which has been bothering her for the past several months. When the appointment was first scheduled, she had asked if I wanted to go with her. Since her appointment was scheduled <i>before</i> I knew that Charlie would be flying out of town at O'dark thirty, and I would thereby, already be awake .... I <b>cringed</b> at the idea of waking up early to sit in a hospital waiting room for an extended period of time on a Sunday morning. </p><p>Rather than dwell on whether my lack of desire to attend an MRI appointment with my 18-year old makes me a bad mother, I considered that perhaps this was a <u>unique</u> opportunity for her to navigate a specialist appointment, all on her own? It's really all in the perspective we take: I'm not a <i>bad</i> mother, I'm a <b><i>great</i></b> mother who wants her children to be independent. While I enjoy a cup of tea at home on a Sunday morning.</p><p>Elizabeth called me while she was still in her dorm, and because her building abuts the UVM hospital, within three minutes of leaving her room - she was <b><u>in</u></b> the Radiology department. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJQqcmbKwA1JFjcnsD_JUlYG6yAZUrNrreNMuj5_gRauTekJq0dip_4XiXobqGdj_hQOCNARDIPrUQq1wKCQTGCGaHfRWNThO0uW0kRCXjaHRepBkN-Y4jovmdvAJ10FxMkm917d56v80dLMMEAFqnHOdsY7LMdQPmXC2bb1RzkQupRr5UbBVW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJQqcmbKwA1JFjcnsD_JUlYG6yAZUrNrreNMuj5_gRauTekJq0dip_4XiXobqGdj_hQOCNARDIPrUQq1wKCQTGCGaHfRWNThO0uW0kRCXjaHRepBkN-Y4jovmdvAJ10FxMkm917d56v80dLMMEAFqnHOdsY7LMdQPmXC2bb1RzkQupRr5UbBVW" width="320" /></a></p><p>Her check-in was supposed to be at 7:15, her scan at 8:00, and she arrived a whole 25 minutes early because she abhors being late to things. We chatted for 25 minutes, and then another 50 more, when no one had arrived to check her in. The conversation we had in those 75 minutes was so awesome, nearer and dearer to my heart than any conversation I've possibly had with her in the past 75 months. </p><p><i>(OK, that's an exaggeration, but it's been a long time since we've had such a heart-to-heart.)</i> </p><p>We talked about school. Roommates. Parties. People drinking too much. What they were drinking. How it's important to know your limits. How she used her first aid skills to help people who <i>didn't</i> know their limits and blacked out. She said she had a drink, but then consumed 32 ounces of water (a full Nalgene bottle) and was passing out granola bars so people had food on their stomach. That night she made a batch of Ramen noodles before she went to sleep. She loves the cross-country team and is so grateful to be on it; especially because of the camaraderie with all of her teammates. They're good, good kids, not really "in to" the party scene, which is a perfect fit for her. She is very aware of her surroundings, and while at an outing last week, felt the tiniest twinge of uncomfortableness when a few guys got too close; so she grabbed her buddy and left. Her intuition is on high alert, but next time I come to campus, can I please bring her taser? She has taken the bus all around town and is keen on knowing the routes. Last week, she got off at the wrong stop so had to walk a mile... pretty sure <i>that</i> won't happen again. She joined the Red Bull ski and snowboard racing team for winter, and is excited at the prospect of riding out west. She loves her geology class, much more than she thought she would, and spends hours rewriting her notes from each lecture. Although she's All-In at college, she still wants to help me with the Scout troop and plans on attending our Court of Honor, tomorrow night. Next Sunday, she is coming home for dinner and bringing a few friends. How many is too many??? </p><p>If we were sitting next to each other, I doubt we would have spoken so openly and freely, and laughed so heartily. What is it about talking on the phone with your mom that is just so <i>good for the soul?</i> No distractions. No scrolling on the phone because you're <b><i>on it</i></b>. No unintentional body language, or inadvertent eye rolling, that might set someone off. It was just MAGIC. </p><p>Elizabeth and I have a very good relationship, but I feel like it has gotten even better since she has been away at school. She was desperate for more freedom, we were desperate for less drama; and she now has the space and opportunity to figure things out... as she SHOULD at this age. The education that happens when kids move away to college, occurs across so many levels that young adults desperately need. And parents need to let them experience. <b><i>On their own. </i></b> </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMlr8Kt1fdtNglZwFMTiFmOT2tCo2Am0W86k0wFZKdWiIe7KpII-HxkY5IFaV6b-qvxdr0BJ-2ph79k1YFK6fmCaf5BoT3bcSAR9nldWUhx5qcbHt4AOFNi-x58d3qyyeIA0e0y35RzqT5RSZ0wcXSe3ZzRzY4aVAvFHuK7E5a_TS3lxOAOZn/s4032/IMG_9500.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMlr8Kt1fdtNglZwFMTiFmOT2tCo2Am0W86k0wFZKdWiIe7KpII-HxkY5IFaV6b-qvxdr0BJ-2ph79k1YFK6fmCaf5BoT3bcSAR9nldWUhx5qcbHt4AOFNi-x58d3qyyeIA0e0y35RzqT5RSZ0wcXSe3ZzRzY4aVAvFHuK7E5a_TS3lxOAOZn/s320/IMG_9500.JPG" width="240" /></a><p></p><p>We wrapped up our call when she realized that no one was there to check her in and she had to go sort things out. She texted me a few minutes later to say she's all set and was on her way to the MRI. </p><p>See, it was really good that I didn't go! She figured things out and feels empowered; we had a wonderful talk in the midst of it, AND I never had to leave the comfort of my living room. Win-win-win! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-pHraTTfvOhj5jaS4P0XIDnfZv1qI1l8vOr9IX-9gBp2aAjEZEYBUm6_57SiBAPu87qO-ngE101JXvicRFjP8WATOyS8wenVGnYwDM_tdLLPXA3pRX5CDhb-bkiJhApJ5lKN55NzqLGTWVSve_Ww27ZNPnlHtsBcUZ8YWyY-NmHtNQlDypM5/s4032/71604066134__2CC3C547-0E19-4B29-BA3E-F42F0C550908.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-pHraTTfvOhj5jaS4P0XIDnfZv1qI1l8vOr9IX-9gBp2aAjEZEYBUm6_57SiBAPu87qO-ngE101JXvicRFjP8WATOyS8wenVGnYwDM_tdLLPXA3pRX5CDhb-bkiJhApJ5lKN55NzqLGTWVSve_Ww27ZNPnlHtsBcUZ8YWyY-NmHtNQlDypM5/s320/71604066134__2CC3C547-0E19-4B29-BA3E-F42F0C550908.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>I've since poured my third cup of tea, updated my blog and am refocusing on what I want to do next with the next EIGHT hours of free time before me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v_ahF4zHGRq1dEeRmFG5Nm7edTex8O5KwB8YI-qt9EH-x58bA7EzxGWQH4_2gAw8MOhmQnQExFFAZIWTAUsSCcu_kEt7J6zBl3A4GoeVG2dUEbXvrqjV52qEjoURtkksX5nWy4itcIOuDDgXeXu-_DiGsCy7iVM6komfq5REnKLKPy8V7rmj/s2079/IMG_9672.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2079" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-v_ahF4zHGRq1dEeRmFG5Nm7edTex8O5KwB8YI-qt9EH-x58bA7EzxGWQH4_2gAw8MOhmQnQExFFAZIWTAUsSCcu_kEt7J6zBl3A4GoeVG2dUEbXvrqjV52qEjoURtkksX5nWy4itcIOuDDgXeXu-_DiGsCy7iVM6komfq5REnKLKPy8V7rmj/s320/IMG_9672.PNG" width="148" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Oops. Gotta go. Carolyn's calling. </p><p style="text-align: left;">What a wonderful, happy stage of life we have entered! :) </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-25529582015167150272023-08-28T23:52:00.001-05:002023-08-29T00:22:00.121-05:00if only I'd had a crystal ball... <p>For those who remember, about two years ago at this time, I was lamenting that one of my children was failing school. The thought had crossed my mind at least a dozen times that she might not be promoted to the next grade. She might not graduate. The potential of her attending college was looking more and more slim. From my extremely limited and fear-rooted perspective, her whole future was <b>unraveling</b> before my very eyes. </p><p>But then, we went away on vacation - never went back - I resigned from my career, had a nervous breakdown (that some days I think is still going on?), sold a house, bought a house, enrolled the kids in a new school, and suddenly found ourselves residents of Vermont. </p><p>Within the first week of attending her new school, Carolyn said she was going to turn a new leaf, and wow - DID SHE EVER. She ran for and won a position on Student Council, which she maintained until she graduated. She immersed herself in choir, theater, and alpine skiing. She joined the track and field team, and won second place <b><i>in the state</i></b> for shot put. She did equally well in discus. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblX6tt7Gq_QRLxAww73BvAeCqES3b0FeRjx5MNJsNpOV8Hl-L9OWduTUa9ximuMYDB2ZA4j_tD62bWBM5ERZTmIrLa601EA8zTt5TLQbuC0G3qE8XnGQuJgZd-VFSItFfxCB_-BgbeJFZuipUXiyPgA9l3LPYusx_EM8c0HqI52QNeaytz9KY/s2046/IMG_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1791" data-original-width="2046" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblX6tt7Gq_QRLxAww73BvAeCqES3b0FeRjx5MNJsNpOV8Hl-L9OWduTUa9ximuMYDB2ZA4j_tD62bWBM5ERZTmIrLa601EA8zTt5TLQbuC0G3qE8XnGQuJgZd-VFSItFfxCB_-BgbeJFZuipUXiyPgA9l3LPYusx_EM8c0HqI52QNeaytz9KY/s320/IMG_0011.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>She helped found a <i>second</i> girls-BSA Scout troop, and became the second female Eagle Scout in the State of Vermont. She easily could have been first, but I'm certain she delayed just to annoy me. </p><p><i>"It's not a rush, MOM." </i></p><p>Throughout her 11th and 12th grade years, she maintained nearly straight A's and her GPA skyrocketed. When she graduated this past June, to everyone's surprise, we learned during commencement that she had received an academic scholarship. The announcement made me want to cry, and also, stand up and scream while punching my fists in the air, <b>"YES! YOU DID THIS!!"</b> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzuvpYV8eIPOKiOu0xZLlfAm1PNl5WI5kuz8VQkStwO5eT-L0kGfPO0rUpp8TWKTn6uPywhVob0cZCC96u0HvfLPL9jvICIl6bbYsUQmd1tijWwctJuDBo2gTnpDLNmn-LO9sVfNRTjD5zfRCwq3rPdUFrX_QV7-5hGdUVdfeIzp_qF6WmCKE/s4032/IMG_6797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzuvpYV8eIPOKiOu0xZLlfAm1PNl5WI5kuz8VQkStwO5eT-L0kGfPO0rUpp8TWKTn6uPywhVob0cZCC96u0HvfLPL9jvICIl6bbYsUQmd1tijWwctJuDBo2gTnpDLNmn-LO9sVfNRTjD5zfRCwq3rPdUFrX_QV7-5hGdUVdfeIzp_qF6WmCKE/s320/IMG_6797.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>While Elizabeth's high school experience had been a little smoother on the academic front than Carolyn's, it is important to remember the struggles that she, too, has overcome. Speech impediment and therapy through fourth grade, diagnosis for dyslexia in second grade that led to extensive classroom support through middle school. The intensity of the support would have continued through high school, if Elizabeth hadn't wanted to shake her special ed teachers like a bad habit, and also, COVID hadn't hit. </p><p>During her final IEP meeting with her teachers this past spring, her AP English teacher said that she has never, <i>and I repeat never</i>, met a student that perseveres like Elizabeth. </p><p>She explained to me, "We read <i>'The Illiad'</i> in class this year. Elizabeth was having a difficult time with the version that was assigned, so she asked if she could go to the library and see if there was a different version that she could read. Of course I agreed. So Elizabeth checked out and read one, and then another version. Then she read a third version. Then, she went back and read the version that I had assigned the class, because she wanted to be able to read what everyone else was reading." </p><p>The teacher's jaw dropped open and she shook her head. "I've never met a student, in my 30 years of teaching, that read not one - not two - not three - but FOUR versions of The Illiad. It is NOT an easy piece to read without dyslexia! Not only has she earned an A+ AP English, I'd wager she has the best grasp of the story from <i>anyone</i> in the class!" </p><p>Today, both Carolyn and Elizabeth started their freshman year at the University of Vermont. These were the pictures they sent me earlier this morning. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPbm6GSaC8Ev4n3sQ06D5Yl3X7bgRIeTVRf6dDYIYP-MQoKjgeEGIJ8jaxz8eBjGhExis5uXgc6-XcPNQcHr6NraE5g-cQiLJoJiYjpWk-SrfwMKLRAIQL_3SwubVyknnMGKJlh3389JZUVrsCmO8UotK0Ck6lVdOiDg6aNiRAGZD6wjS7v3Z/s4032/IMG_4014.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPbm6GSaC8Ev4n3sQ06D5Yl3X7bgRIeTVRf6dDYIYP-MQoKjgeEGIJ8jaxz8eBjGhExis5uXgc6-XcPNQcHr6NraE5g-cQiLJoJiYjpWk-SrfwMKLRAIQL_3SwubVyknnMGKJlh3389JZUVrsCmO8UotK0Ck6lVdOiDg6aNiRAGZD6wjS7v3Z/s320/IMG_4014.JPEG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznOoBGlrCUShZXFKHm3YYxRca0mITp2GjoNr7YzejkIBtGk0mMB5xZ-iUkX-bbBbTFnkJwqPTGFomJB_MQqf7YxoYAwd-Nza1X-xDZNc7bkDoUuieCmblsaD-GKdbVFhKdz5M-OFwDk8FrC7-J8Wuqd19QGmCh9XzzQ-1V9bY03XgTenmPi03/s4032/IMG_7977.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznOoBGlrCUShZXFKHm3YYxRca0mITp2GjoNr7YzejkIBtGk0mMB5xZ-iUkX-bbBbTFnkJwqPTGFomJB_MQqf7YxoYAwd-Nza1X-xDZNc7bkDoUuieCmblsaD-GKdbVFhKdz5M-OFwDk8FrC7-J8Wuqd19QGmCh9XzzQ-1V9bY03XgTenmPi03/s320/IMG_7977.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>It takes me only ten minutes (seven if the lights are all green ... my previous estimate was off by two!) to drive from our house to their dorms. As happy as that makes me, it makes me happier yet that they are THRIVING. </p><p>Carolyn is on the rowing team. Elizabeth is running cross-country. They are both living on campus, in separate dorms, and are having the time of their lives. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1j1QUEbxsn_H37Etd1DWxn6mbWyG0BBBvsa_et6eXs7U5FY5bZlnYcz6wmA3K7MSL4T--CrnB8LKGNVtN-zXny7zbA6gCfG3Z08rCyOgr-znvaTLQ9PWpDaoDTbqq1yPknC4gnJ9N1xsOBOlDqqB73rcLIglqTriUufdsVdk6nESubjD1Zwim/s4032/IMG_6805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1j1QUEbxsn_H37Etd1DWxn6mbWyG0BBBvsa_et6eXs7U5FY5bZlnYcz6wmA3K7MSL4T--CrnB8LKGNVtN-zXny7zbA6gCfG3Z08rCyOgr-znvaTLQ9PWpDaoDTbqq1yPknC4gnJ9N1xsOBOlDqqB73rcLIglqTriUufdsVdk6nESubjD1Zwim/s320/IMG_6805.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>Although I helped them move in last week, yesterday, I zipped over to campus for a couple hours and took a car full of their new college buddies to Trader Joe's so they could stock up on snacks. As we were driving around, I had to pinch myself at how fortunate we are to be HERE. We've already started discussing some of the out-of-state students that might come home with them for Thanksgiving.... I'm expecting we may actually have 10 in the house. </p><p>So, it's probably a good thing William is in Europe. We're going to need his room! </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-1922680338891447582023-08-14T18:15:00.003-05:002023-08-14T18:33:06.461-05:00the chain<p>It is July of 2017. Our family of six had just landed in Denver, rented a big red GMC Yukon, and are making our way west from Colorado in to Utah. Because we'd been up at 3:30 AM to catch our 6:00 flight out of Houston, the kids were exhausted and fell asleep in the car for the first part of the drive. </p><p>When they wake up, we turn on the stereo - synch it with our phone - and play music. <i>My memory of this exact moment is so crystal clear, a time in my life I will<b> never</b> forget. </i>I'd switched seats with William so he could sit in the front next to his Dad who was driving. I'm in the backseat, wedged in with Henry, Carolyn, Elizabeth, and all the camping gear we'd need over the next <b><i>four</i></b> weeks as we traveled across the US and Canadian Rockies. </p><p>Fleetwood Mac's "The Chain" comes on. </p><p>Charlie and I love Fleetwood Mac, base case. It was especially awesome that the kids loved them that summer of 2017 because their song was on the soundtrack for their favorite movie, Guardians of the Galaxy II, that had come out two months earlier. </p><p>We turned the volume up as loud as it would go. <i>The speakers were pounding</i>. The windows were all the way down. The hot air was blowing in to the car, and cooling us off, and sending the hair atop our crazy excited heads, in a million directions. We were singing in unison as loud as we could, <b>"CHAIN KEEP US TOGETHER ... running in the shadows... CHAIN KEEP US TOGETHER ... running in the shadows." </b></p><p>As I was just cleaning the kitchen, that song came on the radio and I was instantly transported back to that time - that incredibly awesome moment which has been seared in to my memory; the first day of an epic camping vacation that took us over nearly 3,000-miles of gorgeous terrain in four weeks. That trip that spurred us to take our colossal 10,000-mile road trip in 2020, and subsequent 4,000+ mile road trip in 2021, that would have rivaled the 2020 trip in distance - if we'd ever actually made it back to Texas. </p><p><i>That song. </i></p><p><i>That memory. </i></p><p><b>Those feelings. </b></p><p>(UPDATE: I'M SO GRATEFUL FOR THIS BLOG!! <a href="https://theamazingtrips.blogspot.com/2017/07/colorado-rocky-mountain-high-weve-seen.html">HERE ARE PHOTOS FROM THAT DRIVE</a>!!!)</p><p>That series of events which undeniably sowed the seeds of travel and adventure, in to our 12- and 10-year old children's hearts and <b><i>souls</i></b>. </p><p>Two weeks ago, we dropped an 18-year old William off at the airport for what will be an 11-month exchange program to Germany. We were initially told that because this is an intensive US Department of State fellowship, we should not expect to visit him during his exchange. The goal is that at the conclusion of the program, he will be 100% fluent in German and fully immersed in the German culture; any visits might set him back with language, and homesickness. I've since heard that maybe (<i>maybe</i>) we might be able to go visit in the new year. My fingers are tightly crossed. </p><p>William has yet to call me, although we have texted. Thankfully, I can follow photos of his adventures on Instagram. This weekend he went camping and canoeing. I hope he cheers up, he looks quite sad. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVl5vVdUfrpTeHGw6kM2Fq75ZnmsvRXGcPoCZFVDV-kJY2iY_UnG6wzS-5GdPkyVmWc6X7PY0HtsKZiM03feQNTiRVEKiz01sNvL9baZDIS0kAS-u3eV3drGlGaNYNShhSaauIuVpt72ixc_nplD9TsdIwUWA47s8ufw7pEsCI98Qa8YdM7Lp/s1359/IMG_9404.jpg" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVl5vVdUfrpTeHGw6kM2Fq75ZnmsvRXGcPoCZFVDV-kJY2iY_UnG6wzS-5GdPkyVmWc6X7PY0HtsKZiM03feQNTiRVEKiz01sNvL9baZDIS0kAS-u3eV3drGlGaNYNShhSaauIuVpt72ixc_nplD9TsdIwUWA47s8ufw7pEsCI98Qa8YdM7Lp/s320/IMG_9404.jpg" width="226" /></a></p><p>Because of Google Translate, I can communicate important information with him in German. Like, how to make pancakes to enjoy with the 1-gallon of Vermont maple syrup he toted across the Atlantic for his host family, the Berenstains. Yep, just like the bears. I told him he'll need to do the conversion to metric since he left his measuring cups at home. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRC4ppd-efb6u6P3neK0GyF9_NykPDY0JwHAV2XJ4pFJo2DVMesh89Al2sYUIG8ur3ECaQBrrvghANcpC--LbMC2r3xMrow_O_Fq4S5tS6Ub3Ury9hc_h96thgU9DVR94AQTpnROLoUODI8tj5CqXxSorUuT2ruQoMCqDrzBdilN3gsQfG8nn/s2079/IMG_8039.PNG" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2079" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRC4ppd-efb6u6P3neK0GyF9_NykPDY0JwHAV2XJ4pFJo2DVMesh89Al2sYUIG8ur3ECaQBrrvghANcpC--LbMC2r3xMrow_O_Fq4S5tS6Ub3Ury9hc_h96thgU9DVR94AQTpnROLoUODI8tj5CqXxSorUuT2ruQoMCqDrzBdilN3gsQfG8nn/s320/IMG_8039.PNG" width="148" /></a></p><p>Until yesterday, our girls were gone to two separate summer camps: Elizabeth at a Scout camp as a counselor; Carolyn at a traditional camp where she was a rowing instructor for nine weeks. The girls are now home for a few days, before Elizabeth moves to the University of Vermont on Saturday, where she'll be joining the D1 Cross-County team for their first practice on Sunday. Carolyn will move to the <i>other side of campus</i> at the University of Vermont next Wednesday. </p><p>Elizabeth wants to pursue environmental sustainability, and maybe architecture. When she graduates, she wants to take a year and travel around the country visiting all the National Parks we missed. (There aren't very many.) Carolyn wants to pursue education. Her plan includes traveling internationally and teaching. Charlie reminds me that they are like kites in the wind right now, all of this could change. Our job is to smile and nod and give encouragement. And hugs, lots and lots of hugs. </p><p>Their roommates, who they have yet to meet in person, are named Anna and Hannah. Their dorms colors are greens and blues; maroons and grays. We went shopping earlier, today. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgA2fkyh_zUkF0WVQbZL6daYIj24Oc6Tw1BNsahnQaWCLjgoKtbE3eOz_dTPx9GyG3zyMOBKoBKc5xONuNkKoynGBcV_W1rBlWfCo-ZYQYLZmlQcqr5SE2z65i1MXgElegxLndUngU8iQEyhj_KAFy0Z_Qyt9CATcbruWnb6D06OaJZlFpHAk/s4032/IMG_9369.JPG" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIgA2fkyh_zUkF0WVQbZL6daYIj24Oc6Tw1BNsahnQaWCLjgoKtbE3eOz_dTPx9GyG3zyMOBKoBKc5xONuNkKoynGBcV_W1rBlWfCo-ZYQYLZmlQcqr5SE2z65i1MXgElegxLndUngU8iQEyhj_KAFy0Z_Qyt9CATcbruWnb6D06OaJZlFpHAk/s320/IMG_9369.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>Here's a fun memory from our first mother-daughter "only" shopping excursion. Those harnesses sure would have been handy, today, to reel them in for more hugs. Or because no, even though we're just down the road and transport isn't difficult, the 8-foot ficus might be too big for your dorm. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGZ6D9r7nxBLlVDy6lXtHn8oo9noBmiAkbIDepm6yxseXS5l5wrjMOQgmvgGnP9L5UMsThCFfifSoiFwJnAGgF1q6v1H-wijR0ZjpNpnCviMuHKu-Jvazd5gtdpdVnG-4YHW1dYazLMRSwRnuDr4_BK2IcRfPowGx9uTRoDv_LCtFg9uE1lRC/s800/IMG_9371.jpg" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="800" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGZ6D9r7nxBLlVDy6lXtHn8oo9noBmiAkbIDepm6yxseXS5l5wrjMOQgmvgGnP9L5UMsThCFfifSoiFwJnAGgF1q6v1H-wijR0ZjpNpnCviMuHKu-Jvazd5gtdpdVnG-4YHW1dYazLMRSwRnuDr4_BK2IcRfPowGx9uTRoDv_LCtFg9uE1lRC/s320/IMG_9371.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>The kids are ready to leave the nest - they are itching to spread their wings and fly. </p><p>Charlie and I are very excited for them to go, but after the <b>completely unexpected</b> maternal guttural sobs that I endured at the airport when bidding auf weidersehen to William ... I am extremely grateful that the girls will only be eight minutes away. Five if all the lights are green. </p><p>Henry will very soon be the focus of our undivided attention, and once again, I am so grateful that we opted to start him a year later in school. I'm also grateful that he has Ollie - and Ollie has him. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg921_49PvNjwM84D1DsMt6mEMaz5XjFmd_gZLrK7ln45_i6Adg9hzU_p9E6OjY_vg3fKyvmjJPZBxTZqMnBWy_6xmqoGRTR_Fngklg0JLeC7sKac5zdbEe--C5upOSHv49ABrduSXuoX5EaZxp7oCNKGZ4GDTVUrfPZO0i5wSmjc_F_LrNPJoQ/s4032/IMG_9377.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg921_49PvNjwM84D1DsMt6mEMaz5XjFmd_gZLrK7ln45_i6Adg9hzU_p9E6OjY_vg3fKyvmjJPZBxTZqMnBWy_6xmqoGRTR_Fngklg0JLeC7sKac5zdbEe--C5upOSHv49ABrduSXuoX5EaZxp7oCNKGZ4GDTVUrfPZO0i5wSmjc_F_LrNPJoQ/s320/IMG_9377.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>They play and tumble around together like a bunch of lion cubs. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cZYSkSOtu62h0g40QjkoT1VcOJqjc2kZQoYtSMiXNMWMj6S8YOHf1aNI7i5U118P0L4UCcg4dZ_s9etUuY98um0Yf_UyZEBlNUF7R9LMiLd8HKGPCRjxpCwoZbows91ZHJs2fBk1jk87jdmROSFiNnSU46Q00pN_V8bVfc75MHtXbfWQIW_i/s4032/IMG_9373.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cZYSkSOtu62h0g40QjkoT1VcOJqjc2kZQoYtSMiXNMWMj6S8YOHf1aNI7i5U118P0L4UCcg4dZ_s9etUuY98um0Yf_UyZEBlNUF7R9LMiLd8HKGPCRjxpCwoZbows91ZHJs2fBk1jk87jdmROSFiNnSU46Q00pN_V8bVfc75MHtXbfWQIW_i/s320/IMG_9373.JPG" width="240" /></a><p>This is a <b>huge</b> season of transition. This is a <b>huge</b> season of reflection. </p><p><b style="font-style: italic;"><i>Chain, keep us together. </i></b></p><p>It is impossible to believe that trip was six years ago. </p><p>It could have been six seconds.</p><p></p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-56952883713227298822023-06-25T15:29:00.000-05:002023-06-25T15:29:11.707-05:00Hail Mary, Full of Grace When I think of the people who I admire and love the most in this world, my mother, Mary, and her sister, Grace (Auntie), are among those at the top of my list. Both my mother and my aunt attended and graduated from parochial schools, and have stories - <i>upon stories</i> - of encounters with nuns when they were growing up. Because of their devout Catholic background, my mother, whenever she introduces herself, or my aunt, will tell them with a wink, <i>"Just remember Hail Mary ... Full of Grace." </i><div><br /></div><div>I adore them both, and am so grateful for the privilege of being related to them, and for the relationship that I have with these two incredible women. In my book, they're <b>both</b> Saints. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GnkWZCLj-uD8-MaCU-AqBlIhNsDpcTmgn7UIdyEzDGaCJvibQSreNXwUpysdO3TzVJXLPsmNUcuqp_nlXFfVUn44kefK6HQRLKxACOi0hX78SNn5NJncWvqpqFcE7sBJGPs1LwKMRuUilmyeoIUDo0dnGxaFZQLpQCzg0Wbq2MeCWloIpXHn/s960/IMG_01B6DE9413D7-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="960" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GnkWZCLj-uD8-MaCU-AqBlIhNsDpcTmgn7UIdyEzDGaCJvibQSreNXwUpysdO3TzVJXLPsmNUcuqp_nlXFfVUn44kefK6HQRLKxACOi0hX78SNn5NJncWvqpqFcE7sBJGPs1LwKMRuUilmyeoIUDo0dnGxaFZQLpQCzg0Wbq2MeCWloIpXHn/s320/IMG_01B6DE9413D7-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>While they don't typically like to discuss age, I think it is inspirational how healthy and mentally awake they both are; my Aunt Grace turned 92 in May, and my mom, will be 90 on July 7th. My Aunt Grace just returned from a trip to Europe. And my mother, although she has had her share of health challenges over the past year, has told me she is making plans to visit us in Vermont this coming fall. (I so hope she does!) </div><div><br /></div><div>As I grow older, the thing that has struck me the most about our relationship, is how often they have told me how wonderful I am and how proud of me they are; <i>they constantly build me up and are so positive</i>. <b>Everyone </b>should be so lucky to have such incredible cheerleaders. </div><div><br /></div><div>While the three of us know very well that I certainly have my flaws, it's not something that they bring up. They don't try to fix or refine me, or try and help me see things from a different angle; they just welcome me with open arms and huge smiles, listen, and astound me with their generosity of time and resources. Whenever the subject of parenthood comes up, the only advice they will offer is to ENJOY these kids while we have them at home: the years are precious and so quickly fleeting. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I grow older, I aspire so much to be more like them. With four teenagers, I will certainly confess it isn't always easy to just accept people <i>as they are</i>. Make no mistake: WE CHERISH THESE KIDS and their frequent moments of amazing, knock our socks off. But it sometimes takes a lot of discipline and constraint to look beyond the mountains of never-ending dirty laundry, dishes, piles of who knows what; sleeping in, faces glued to cell phones, and doses of teen attitude that have nearly sent me in to AFib. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with a torn rotator cuff. The culprit was when I attempted to flip a teenager's cell phone in to the far back seat of our Yukon. The pain was so intense, I had to pull over to the side of the road, climb out of the car, and immediately kneel on the ground. The teenager didn't know I had hurt myself, and thought I was just taking this extremely unusual moment and location to pray. Which I did, while I was waiting for the black out stars and searing pain to pass. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been trying so hard to just embrace this period of growth and change. Celebrating these rapidly evolving humans as they are; not attempting try to fix or refine them, or try and help them see things from a different angle. They are who they are; navigating their own paths and figuring things out in their own time and space. They are so, so good and we are so proud of them. We just need to be keep being kind role models that welcome them with open arms and huge smiles, listen, and astound them with our generosity of time and resources. As Charlie says, we cannot let them make us batty - they are the batty ones. Just got to keep an even keel, navigating the ups and downs of teenage angst. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><b>Hail Mary, Full of Grace. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>******</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Wait a minute!!! Just before I hit "publish" I remembered when I was a teenager and my Aunt Grace almost drove me over with her Cadillac when I was talking back and jumped out of the car to run away. I made the mistake of dashing in front of the car and looked in to her eyes as she clutched that big steering wheel. For a moment, I don't think either of us was entirely sure if she was going to hit the brake or the gas. For fun, I googled 1980's Cadillac, and behold, this is the exact car. <b>Color and everything!</b> </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPy7PVdYs1AoQDtoHWr9zhx6Hj5CBm-zZO6umbCAlBC91LwVBfdhuD3NEDvCz6zY-IdkPUtpORTH_0swD5vcTYy66vGp3yiNcNBUJl9yxG3uWychenAyWmv2djKgkMRxUBx9pxE1E-GCs7uwJlRAuPNaJDOXqzMZkZ5Ie7Qh-tiNZ4bLUb2aT/s640/04-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPy7PVdYs1AoQDtoHWr9zhx6Hj5CBm-zZO6umbCAlBC91LwVBfdhuD3NEDvCz6zY-IdkPUtpORTH_0swD5vcTYy66vGp3yiNcNBUJl9yxG3uWychenAyWmv2djKgkMRxUBx9pxE1E-GCs7uwJlRAuPNaJDOXqzMZkZ5Ie7Qh-tiNZ4bLUb2aT/s320/04-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><div><br /></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps this post is simply a good reminder that all of us parents of teenagers should have a little more grace with ourselves? Remember: our children's brains are still connecting and growing until they reach 25. In contrast, ours are fully formed and probably starting to shrink. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully, within the next 40 years, our children will have elevated us to sainthood, too. </div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-76909136674912942222023-06-23T11:00:00.000-05:002023-06-23T11:00:02.854-05:00we're here, we're there, we're every ..... where <p>This morning I made a concerted effort to get on the floor and stretch. As I attempted touching my toes, with outstretched legs, and felt all the muscles in my legs and back seize up ... I pondered how long it has been since I've <i>really</i> devoted myself to being limber and flexible. I'd guess 1985? </p><p>It doesn't seem that long ago that I could contort myself in to a pretzel with zero pain. It also doesn't seem like that long ago that I met the love of my life during what was supposed to be a brief exchange from South Carolina to California (1991); we brought home three babies from the hospital (2004) and a little surprise a few years later (2007). Nor does it seem so long ago that we moved with four preschoolers from California to Virginia (2010); then packed up four pre-teens and moved from Virginia to Texas (2015). </p><p>In all honesty, it seems like just<i> last month</i> we took what was supposed to be a six-week road trip to check out colleges. Alas, time goes by at a dizzying clip, and a week ago today, the triplets graduated from high school. The transformation in these three kids over the past 20 months has been nothing short of a miracle. Remember, a pivotal decision in our move surrounded the struggles Carolyn in particular was facing at her school in Texas. In Vermont, she wound up graduating with multiple honors <i><u>and</u></i> unbeknownst to anyone until the commencement ceremony, received a Memorial Scholarship to boot. </p><p>(Albeit gut-wrench fear inducing, did we make the correct decision to move? <b> HECK YES.</b>) </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4tO-eZUMy_MNa-uvLgEYK4m2NZ36z4qgtb98zDZW2-hbMjVtUZ7rzHSSpPH5nFZz1JjDi43NudYAP2Tm5rAE4s6D67vlS8FeGMVFqwiJ3dWyyjwISkPCgsG2ywC3wzW7BYEWpB6IlO5ARMggfXr3GUfCDx0bhggzYoTvcInb8Z8gRIvXArlD/s1154/IMG_8765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1154" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4tO-eZUMy_MNa-uvLgEYK4m2NZ36z4qgtb98zDZW2-hbMjVtUZ7rzHSSpPH5nFZz1JjDi43NudYAP2Tm5rAE4s6D67vlS8FeGMVFqwiJ3dWyyjwISkPCgsG2ywC3wzW7BYEWpB6IlO5ARMggfXr3GUfCDx0bhggzYoTvcInb8Z8gRIvXArlD/s320/IMG_8765.jpg" width="266" /></a></p><p>Charlie's three siblings - and their spouses - flew in from California for the festivities. My sisters Eileen and Beth traveled in from Michigan and Massachusetts, respectively. My dad's youngest sister, Peggy, also drove up from Boston. My great-nephew, Ryan, who is the same age as the triplets (and is slated to join the Marines in September), was here from Massachusetts, too. A good friend that we met through my mother when she lived in Florida, but who resides in Connecticut, Flavia, made the trip north. And then there were so many wonderful friends that we've made since we've moved to Vermont, less than two years ago, that descended on our beloved "Butternut House" for a graduation party that lasted late in to the evening and over the next few days. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58-Lj1FyAB7avFA5t0KzsCkgZkyCENWMgro0CYm_ycKzGiI-Hx_DaAtoNaXGL_H-FuxPhu4fkTzOod10EQeQEXtI-0qGN_PqXnhTI-b1ehMiMRYHx4ojrRdv_anR5Anrkpn6vioTJ3XIq5K6znXZx9vWcV76ps-koL1_51W_kyn0vXu9UE6UY/s960/IMG_8776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="717" data-original-width="960" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh58-Lj1FyAB7avFA5t0KzsCkgZkyCENWMgro0CYm_ycKzGiI-Hx_DaAtoNaXGL_H-FuxPhu4fkTzOod10EQeQEXtI-0qGN_PqXnhTI-b1ehMiMRYHx4ojrRdv_anR5Anrkpn6vioTJ3XIq5K6znXZx9vWcV76ps-koL1_51W_kyn0vXu9UE6UY/s320/IMG_8776.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>The Butternut House, that within the past three months has endured more construction than I can fathom. Not sure that it's more improbable that we got it all done in time ... or, that we successful in wrangling qualified contractors in a severely depleted market to: </p><p>Construct a new bedroom and bathroom in our basement along with new floors, doors and windows, paint and heating. Ceilings replaced in the main level due to water damage - recessed lights installed - interior repainted. Exterior has been painted once (25% of the house before we determined the color was wrong) - twice (50% of the house before we determined this color was also wrong) - three times (was the charm!)... </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ykcvSVVz8NVamesmM8-MKYs5xgTUxFHH-bNsTzo4y5JRZkvwnunqcTGcmso0NAeYUrAA0RIK46ah08_28GK9JEjpFD1ZcVDwYMb-M0xfB1sZe2qI6HDqsQE26ttoG6o3xTr5SXpuc67lPRztu41jR6wCHGJivwW2NkwpiQkhNnsfKyeMcdL7/s4032/IMG_4302.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ykcvSVVz8NVamesmM8-MKYs5xgTUxFHH-bNsTzo4y5JRZkvwnunqcTGcmso0NAeYUrAA0RIK46ah08_28GK9JEjpFD1ZcVDwYMb-M0xfB1sZe2qI6HDqsQE26ttoG6o3xTr5SXpuc67lPRztu41jR6wCHGJivwW2NkwpiQkhNnsfKyeMcdL7/s320/IMG_4302.jpeg" width="240" /></a></p><p>A new roof installed - exterior lighting added - new gutters installed - epoxy garage floor - more doors and windows - and a massive landscaping project that is still going on to this day. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTo1rTNt-v39yWD0lYATLG__46bw_igI8A4BpqtGJZT3UgXxv9ssNlFAlOV4i-2pEaUirO_XBRXWp14NuS5zIWk13bHXgPn28V9SNuj5HjmTrji2Mn50QNEU4S7KmBghvjrtbFbikay0p72vxXhYOnAiS-yaq2r1l23vuLmMKZax4dIAEuUZT/s4032/IMG_8286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTo1rTNt-v39yWD0lYATLG__46bw_igI8A4BpqtGJZT3UgXxv9ssNlFAlOV4i-2pEaUirO_XBRXWp14NuS5zIWk13bHXgPn28V9SNuj5HjmTrji2Mn50QNEU4S7KmBghvjrtbFbikay0p72vxXhYOnAiS-yaq2r1l23vuLmMKZax4dIAEuUZT/s320/IMG_8286.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>What better time to rip your house <b><i>and yard</i></b> COMPLETELY apart than a few months before a big party? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-opXCbvUh5UW8L-YbSanpxCG8yHRkk5Kd7WpQDs_5NQ0EVzdzTMa5NPkyaYaBg2PelCFWBk_zdL3_oAc5nRaJFbSJiLx7TYj9RFl05bgALXsy_DgRhnXwdk0NAD9vHNv99EMMVj9myQKl9YpYIfHIm3YXh26yW8L7kmKpWuLcwXU9HBnZR2Or/s4032/IMG_8209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-opXCbvUh5UW8L-YbSanpxCG8yHRkk5Kd7WpQDs_5NQ0EVzdzTMa5NPkyaYaBg2PelCFWBk_zdL3_oAc5nRaJFbSJiLx7TYj9RFl05bgALXsy_DgRhnXwdk0NAD9vHNv99EMMVj9myQKl9YpYIfHIm3YXh26yW8L7kmKpWuLcwXU9HBnZR2Or/s320/IMG_8209.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>What better time to undertake SUBSTANTIAL home improvement than before <b><i>triplets</i></b> start college? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJu_8I8xGTdUfofFeH1w4MYvfGmjF-IFweuK8r_5ooKsHGeJE9vZhvUjC0JVpjmeueGdHcGVcqWaEakCD9yHB-xvJ5dCBZkYu_R6UyKpJ4s_7UwOVTKdtAya2C0fmQ8KWvOUmyPslI6cDSPY3fJu7JdNQ0MdAsFBaEurlLwSHGdQ1TFuZW2YN/s4032/IMG_8316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJu_8I8xGTdUfofFeH1w4MYvfGmjF-IFweuK8r_5ooKsHGeJE9vZhvUjC0JVpjmeueGdHcGVcqWaEakCD9yHB-xvJ5dCBZkYu_R6UyKpJ4s_7UwOVTKdtAya2C0fmQ8KWvOUmyPslI6cDSPY3fJu7JdNQ0MdAsFBaEurlLwSHGdQ1TFuZW2YN/s320/IMG_8316.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>Hahahahahaha!! We've always been a little insane. It gives life ZEST!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kprn_jcAVQD2srLim8T-c823UFdhTLdgeh0bA3YMv98Nq8GhqOSLyLLGYhJnJK5QzsWfRHe78oSsgHMidKBqcjtRtTVqcIhCROFAj3PoPAk7wGbI5OZosX4OKWHiWrnxuONGk8DmlEvDnHLnPrewtEr8P0ndB8GdaGSkHmbwg5ItHuA1ARp2/s4032/IMG_8243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Kprn_jcAVQD2srLim8T-c823UFdhTLdgeh0bA3YMv98Nq8GhqOSLyLLGYhJnJK5QzsWfRHe78oSsgHMidKBqcjtRtTVqcIhCROFAj3PoPAk7wGbI5OZosX4OKWHiWrnxuONGk8DmlEvDnHLnPrewtEr8P0ndB8GdaGSkHmbwg5ItHuA1ARp2/s320/IMG_8243.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>On the upside: the house looks fantastic and it was all done in time. (Not perfect, but well enough.) </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifYpG2e-ef7JuQQjjjKDKxxb67wf8-J07sQwHpFuIphsyAtNEEQ4AaP80tUKRqzGwbBX6qa-sZ_rQ40Jk2kTPd-18DumBDfe69UOeQzhFLOMevtcGoiTy_7W00kVg5yKy6m9TSu-Iyp4SIWcar1_e6BCQhEfUfHZQfdxa385ct3VdOPauGbdFB/s4032/IMG_8630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifYpG2e-ef7JuQQjjjKDKxxb67wf8-J07sQwHpFuIphsyAtNEEQ4AaP80tUKRqzGwbBX6qa-sZ_rQ40Jk2kTPd-18DumBDfe69UOeQzhFLOMevtcGoiTy_7W00kVg5yKy6m9TSu-Iyp4SIWcar1_e6BCQhEfUfHZQfdxa385ct3VdOPauGbdFB/s320/IMG_8630.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>The day after graduation, Carolyn packed up and moved to summer camp in the northeast kingdom, where she will be a rowing instructor for the next nine weeks. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fsu-pE-Q0zEgEy4zz1FiwZJFRv1Gg6szhFvseoQc5uuL4tsrUobOyTn6MrBh_kmyTh6I-KRCSVan4C-cJ30jLjq80z_Aevv9wBwIj9MGA7yAAELQg32vS8a-pYMV7Knw9DJTeNf2YjLGZZj5-5ZcaA1FEtlxMHUSpbFkUuU7VN-tdaXFU8qY/s4032/IMG_8774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fsu-pE-Q0zEgEy4zz1FiwZJFRv1Gg6szhFvseoQc5uuL4tsrUobOyTn6MrBh_kmyTh6I-KRCSVan4C-cJ30jLjq80z_Aevv9wBwIj9MGA7yAAELQg32vS8a-pYMV7Knw9DJTeNf2YjLGZZj5-5ZcaA1FEtlxMHUSpbFkUuU7VN-tdaXFU8qY/s320/IMG_8774.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>William and Elizabeth are working together at an outdoor camping store for the next six weeks - before William ships off to Germany for a year on a US Congressional Scholarship. Elizabeth and Carolyn will be moving out of the house and on to the campus at the University of Vermont in less than 10 weeks. Next year, when William returns from Germany, the plan is that he will join his sisters as a Catamount at UVM. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gZLsF8m-J-wIF3PA1oBErelHPxspaw7pBzeT38wmF71GGuwcOtTzL_fSn5S0nR3msaz2Mw2Ur-npNoZSm2wqqg5GLhzLsQuVMi86g3xEDscloMPrS3IPFjaypKvCnnHQt6DoUfUGlVlmVTG48D0w0N6GsoOxzuZkxxMb7p2aqCf-SgRgs76e/s1169/IMG_8766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gZLsF8m-J-wIF3PA1oBErelHPxspaw7pBzeT38wmF71GGuwcOtTzL_fSn5S0nR3msaz2Mw2Ur-npNoZSm2wqqg5GLhzLsQuVMi86g3xEDscloMPrS3IPFjaypKvCnnHQt6DoUfUGlVlmVTG48D0w0N6GsoOxzuZkxxMb7p2aqCf-SgRgs76e/s320/IMG_8766.jpg" width="263" /></a></p><p>It really seems like the past couple of <i><u>decades</u></i> have been dizzying times indeed. </p><p>In the months ahead, Charlie and I are very excited to turn more attention to Henry. And, increase our flexibility. Maybe I can sign the three of us up for a gymnastics class? </p><p>I bet Henry would really <b>love</b> that! </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-83874270066125784662023-03-01T21:43:00.002-06:002023-03-01T21:52:26.111-06:00those tiny little glasses can pack a big punch <p>William left a week ago, today, for his exchange program to Germany. We dropped him off at school, he loaded a charter bus with fellow students - and they drove down to Boston. Half the students boarded a flight to Madrid, the other half to Frankfurt. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDLIeaMtxDY40sRyRNq6SdZ79lN4bGM18_umR_voK9CpVc4y_DmVhmBeXltWjl_H--Juu9jPEzpliILIMnRLpKQTqr35TwsvODpIFiQy_STEoV8OQxb7PEzmORCtfU65lj7-lTC7kNCA5_MGjuCMDuR4wCJwsY2iRRkc8W2rAxkaXY5sTKDw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDLIeaMtxDY40sRyRNq6SdZ79lN4bGM18_umR_voK9CpVc4y_DmVhmBeXltWjl_H--Juu9jPEzpliILIMnRLpKQTqr35TwsvODpIFiQy_STEoV8OQxb7PEzmORCtfU65lj7-lTC7kNCA5_MGjuCMDuR4wCJwsY2iRRkc8W2rAxkaXY5sTKDw=w368-h276" width="368" /></a></p><p>I pulled up his flight, and tracked it - while it crossed the Atlantic and flew across Europe. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4pNzHM7PkliJtHEqfM5YIWkPg75xwA55sLnzctG4AIN3jR0fI7y-6QMktmV6r_s8Y4PJv2wqNLTwanHzBaj6bNzatjT0HCP3aie80Pw9U-nKxCQyITDLsiZ4DoidZbQOKs2dUJEegec0-k5Sq_b14lkGGFVPPEFuMM2tvCdty3P7PJLRXQ/s1026/IMG_7378.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="861" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4pNzHM7PkliJtHEqfM5YIWkPg75xwA55sLnzctG4AIN3jR0fI7y-6QMktmV6r_s8Y4PJv2wqNLTwanHzBaj6bNzatjT0HCP3aie80Pw9U-nKxCQyITDLsiZ4DoidZbQOKs2dUJEegec0-k5Sq_b14lkGGFVPPEFuMM2tvCdty3P7PJLRXQ/s320/IMG_7378.jpg" width="269" /></a></p><p>Only when he had safely landed and I reminded him to turn his phone to "Airplane Mode" (so we wouldn't get a $1500 roaming phone bill) until we could get him on an international calling plan the next day, did I peacefully go to sleep. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbtiPl_I7Pxo3ETT6DvyIV5tVItW4I35iCpWNMH_qZYrA8ncImYXB6IuQwRZmfDPffKUjqem0xkNJW9Q0ulIdq0AyE7Hu2WdHxMQPBiThZJlKikiefdSCUDRkeql1aDMYobRIkrR1M-fyjOgnZsRVAYcqM8JrSHFQHTeipSGsHDNJbeevIsQ" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1825" data-original-width="960" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbtiPl_I7Pxo3ETT6DvyIV5tVItW4I35iCpWNMH_qZYrA8ncImYXB6IuQwRZmfDPffKUjqem0xkNJW9Q0ulIdq0AyE7Hu2WdHxMQPBiThZJlKikiefdSCUDRkeql1aDMYobRIkrR1M-fyjOgnZsRVAYcqM8JrSHFQHTeipSGsHDNJbeevIsQ=w181-h345" width="181" /></a></div><p>Not surprisingly, we haven't heard much from him over the past week. He's sent the family a few photos, and has dropped me a couple texts, but most of my knowledge comes from seeing pictures that his teachers are posting on Facebook. </p><p>On Saturday night, our girls were all aflutter. You see, they have Instagram - and when the German students were in the US, this past October, all the kids became fast friends - and as kids these days are prone to do - they swapped "Insta" info. Suffice it to say, on Saturday night, our girls were checking their social media pages when they spotted the German students accounts, and I heard them say, <i>"OH MY GOSH! WILLIAM IS AT A PARTY AND HE IS HAVING A BEER!!!" </i></p><p>The drinking age in Germany is 16. We knew this and we told William that he would likely have the opportunity to have an alcoholic beverage while he was on this trip, and we fully trust that he will make good choices. He's had <i><u>sips</u></i> of beer and wine, and champagne with us, on rare occasion. Charlie and I love a good double IPA (especially now that we're in Vermont) and a glass of wine every so often, but we aren't big drinkers and thankfully, William hasn't been in the social circles of kids who drink anything beyond copious amounts of Capri Sun. </p><p>On Sunday morning, Charlie and I were up with the sun to take Henry - who has become a serious exercise aficionado - to the gym. While Charlie and I were on ellipse machines, William texted me (in response to my text re: how was he doing) that he wasn't feeling so great. He wrote, "I have a weird headache." So I suggested that perhaps, just maybe, he might be a *little* hungover. To which he quickly replied, "I don't think I'm hungover." Followed by, "Ich habe nur zwei biers und ein shot." </p><p><i>Translation: It was only two beers and one shot. </i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUgvNBSrNmc0Wd7kVqMFkG0zpEOBnXy2v-gBCiA-kPWap8o7oBjikGkE5jWjzltx0nmXwDkJd2iTE-j9ERGH4fKSo120Z25oD9qc2rh6UBogR_YqLiwBaLYsA84uGb64dwYKoYkXfKtGmAnVRhxIwNgvyQctD1tjPG2B-bl38xQ1qsV9txMA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="960" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUgvNBSrNmc0Wd7kVqMFkG0zpEOBnXy2v-gBCiA-kPWap8o7oBjikGkE5jWjzltx0nmXwDkJd2iTE-j9ERGH4fKSo120Z25oD9qc2rh6UBogR_YqLiwBaLYsA84uGb64dwYKoYkXfKtGmAnVRhxIwNgvyQctD1tjPG2B-bl38xQ1qsV9txMA=w221-h354" width="221" /></a></div><div><br /></div>On our way home from the gym, William called his little brother. They chatted for a few minutes, before Henry handed the phone to me. William explained how he had a beer with dinner, then went out with the German students and met this "really nice" Russian guy who was walking around with a bottle of vodka. (Danger! Danger, William Charles!!) <div><br /></div><div>He told the guy he didn't want any vodka, and instead opted for another beer. But then the Russian came back and offered him a shot, again, and all the other kids were taking one - so he took it - followed by several glasses of water, because <b>why in the world would people drink that stuff?! </b><p></p><p>I told him, "Yep, two beers and a shot will do it!" To which he tried to explain, <i>"But Mom! It was such a TINY glass!"</i> So I reminded him when he had his wisdom teeth out over the summer, and they hooked him up to an IV and in a matter of seconds, he was in la-la-land? Or when I give him a dose of NyQuil when he has a cold and he'll be knocked out cold for the night? Alcohol is a drug, and <b>it doesn't take much</b> to alter your state of consciousness, tweak your blood chemistry, and make you feel <i>bad</i>. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5om5N60dho575lVz296yQgUkoEHedraUP6fmWLRYdyPwp8xS-BxuXQRlx1hcIbXpznfjO6230Y2gmlojgAWIIce1LIXaBTE3hp4ByMp8n0N1TqwTkga1DwMqf_HWIcL6nsdGMAn3YRnw3Ww0BETO3-xmm6bo5wT7OxXSv_lg3dp49dQV4fg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="434" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5om5N60dho575lVz296yQgUkoEHedraUP6fmWLRYdyPwp8xS-BxuXQRlx1hcIbXpznfjO6230Y2gmlojgAWIIce1LIXaBTE3hp4ByMp8n0N1TqwTkga1DwMqf_HWIcL6nsdGMAn3YRnw3Ww0BETO3-xmm6bo5wT7OxXSv_lg3dp49dQV4fg=w301-h416" width="301" /></a></p><p>Alas, he now knows what a hangover feels like, he doesn't like it, and has decided that he'd rather stick to Gerolsteiner (sparkling water) and soft drinks for the rest of his trip. If <b><u>my</u></b> prayers are answered, for the rest of his life. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA2Jfq793GgnOpW0GYNok8GW60IV13n5qCr1QkaJq7ZWhsN6iY3lh5P85paSTuct6TbzOzXdwZbuJKvkue-jKkHjR9HLecgNjAhXGGKH_LpqWKD4lWEypUjS8pV8U4Wo7uDCJyo7-eeCox0hE4MoeFlYKoCwa4DAxF-jeOHur2c0Vx9sUKag" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA2Jfq793GgnOpW0GYNok8GW60IV13n5qCr1QkaJq7ZWhsN6iY3lh5P85paSTuct6TbzOzXdwZbuJKvkue-jKkHjR9HLecgNjAhXGGKH_LpqWKD4lWEypUjS8pV8U4Wo7uDCJyo7-eeCox0hE4MoeFlYKoCwa4DAxF-jeOHur2c0Vx9sUKag=w321-h428" width="321" /></a></p><p>In his words, "I've waited way too long to experience this, the last thing I want is to miss a moment of it because of something I <i>intentionally</i> ingested!" Some things you just have to learn on your own, and this is one of them. I'm just extremely grateful that he had the experience - wasn't (too) adversely effected by it, and knows that it isn't his cup of tea. Literally! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLTfYof6Ly5Yvv_EcQ4fphFjCMIuFzmeTMyXOcF6yCqCjw3KgUgCrl0ioPtRuaqcZE8XIbr3Lry0KagVcNY1yVMDep6CvykGwxRN2Mat70Bjie9KTZm28eKpt1Br-N8g_JFvYqdOWcV8U2sUfyMA0wP3JD9YnjhhIq2IBTA9eisSqrVuV6UA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgLTfYof6Ly5Yvv_EcQ4fphFjCMIuFzmeTMyXOcF6yCqCjw3KgUgCrl0ioPtRuaqcZE8XIbr3Lry0KagVcNY1yVMDep6CvykGwxRN2Mat70Bjie9KTZm28eKpt1Br-N8g_JFvYqdOWcV8U2sUfyMA0wP3JD9YnjhhIq2IBTA9eisSqrVuV6UA=w314-h418" width="314" /></a></p><p>That small situation aside: He's been having a wonderful trip - touring Munich, Berlin, Hameln, and an American McDonalds. He's also expecting that he might be provided an opportunity to move to Germany later this summer, for a full year abroad. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjK6NjOJ_Y1aORQ79lUv-R468cW4tBgG5EpItrf1gZVZd8YGbSwRYJov-YH3l6SxKbZctcyEzVtRkVcjutPsNclRnbQtlWjQsh5uUV5sf7r7UGn3-OaeRwGDhy2vnKljgZbR7iwPBCSt_2yhNS7tb4psACW2KAjLQRtfp08TaAIz-S46BXnQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjK6NjOJ_Y1aORQ79lUv-R468cW4tBgG5EpItrf1gZVZd8YGbSwRYJov-YH3l6SxKbZctcyEzVtRkVcjutPsNclRnbQtlWjQsh5uUV5sf7r7UGn3-OaeRwGDhy2vnKljgZbR7iwPBCSt_2yhNS7tb4psACW2KAjLQRtfp08TaAIz-S46BXnQ=w418-h313" width="418" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Charlie and I just had our passports renewed, yesterday, because I suspect overseas travel will be in our very near future. If we're not in Europe, we may be in Asia since a week after William arrives home from Germany, our family is hosting a student from Japan!<p></p><p>Jinsei wa tanoshi! </p><p><i>(Translation: Life is fun!) </i></p></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-42733345177835122422023-01-29T11:42:00.002-06:002023-01-29T11:42:22.617-06:00parting wisdoms from the soapbox <p>It wasn't very long ago, I could not <b><i>imagine</i></b> our children ever leaving the nest and going out in to the world on their own. And I couldn't imagine that I would ever <i><b>want</b></i> them to leave. The mere thought of it was traumatizing to my mama's heart. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj99BB5UeEJ-lmohyvCS9Zo5DtfdNw9PWQA30rehYYqDoljJ2J9Q3rlhPO9sgMJ4JDdseG8BCvAx6prPAKaxcSI9QUlSB0CqzjhNVH9zV4d3i8NDobj1e-yRS_yxOpTtu8xIL7CNULBzskJmrri_vKjsj6bn0Hvhyq2DTlYaH832Gj2RI2QTw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2852" data-original-width="3928" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj99BB5UeEJ-lmohyvCS9Zo5DtfdNw9PWQA30rehYYqDoljJ2J9Q3rlhPO9sgMJ4JDdseG8BCvAx6prPAKaxcSI9QUlSB0CqzjhNVH9zV4d3i8NDobj1e-yRS_yxOpTtu8xIL7CNULBzskJmrri_vKjsj6bn0Hvhyq2DTlYaH832Gj2RI2QTw" width="320" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But nature has an amazingly beautiful way of surprising us. Our little babies are growing up, becoming a lot more independent as they capably (and confidently) figure their way out in the world. In parallel, Charlie and I are becoming more accepting of their eventual nest departure. In some cases, we're actually nudging them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Fly little birdie, fly!! </i></div><p>Their maturity and independence has accelerated since we moved to Vermont where they are nonstop busy with school, sports, work, and friends. As they have become more mature (on the run and driving everywhere), Charlie and I have found ourselves consciously stepping back - holding on a little less tightly - and giving them more freedom and space to figure things out. It has been a whole bag of emotions with lots of deep breaths - <b>tongue biting</b> - and resignation / acceptance that comes from letting THEM figure things out. </p><p>Sometimes, there is a fuzzy line between what they should figure out on their own, and what we must insist upon, in the spirit of setting healthy boundaries and expectations for people on the brink of adulthood. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoT13DPqWcoCfsFnusqmbb94CgZTuN2YHbAkSapRdVqJYWZy6XrBF-87W-pp9JIA0ETbBaEnUcbmADoLV-woHnO0WcJZaBs-WBKWtil4k_bI3BdVE-pzgKsx2Fp03nQlIpL3cMZunu-VCcYEh0b31PGiPkz9szm4lXdNfDQCS_IGXLFDe5g/s4032/IMG_6984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitoT13DPqWcoCfsFnusqmbb94CgZTuN2YHbAkSapRdVqJYWZy6XrBF-87W-pp9JIA0ETbBaEnUcbmADoLV-woHnO0WcJZaBs-WBKWtil4k_bI3BdVE-pzgKsx2Fp03nQlIpL3cMZunu-VCcYEh0b31PGiPkz9szm4lXdNfDQCS_IGXLFDe5g/s320/IMG_6984.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>For example, their bedrooms are all on a different floor from our primary living space - and for the past few months, I've consciously turned a blind eye to the environment that has evolved. My mindset has been that perhaps after a certain period of time living in a mess - they will come to the conclusion that life is better when there isn't mold actively growing out of your communal trashcan. This decision to avoid the kids' living space has also been a physical and mental one: it thoroughly exhausts me to a cellular and existential level cleaning up after four abled body humans. </p><p><i>But I seem to forget that every so often. </i></p><p>Last Friday, was their Winter Ball dance, and I suspected a large number of kids, who would come by our house after the dance for cards and snacks, would likely spend the night. Especially since a snowstorm would be rolling in to town around the same time and I don't like them driving in those conditions. So Friday morning, I thought I'd take my day off of work to go upstairs and tidy up. Ten hours later, as I was hauling down the last bag of trash / donations - I loudly swore to myself - Charlie - the kids - and all of their friends/witnesses who by this time, had gathered at our home to get ready for the dance - it would <b><i>never</i></b> get this bad again. </p><p>There might have been just a tad bit of soapboxing to everyone who had gathered, regarding how hard parents work for their kids, and how as those kids grow - they really need to pull their own weight. I never "correct / discipline" our kids when other kids are around, but I felt like this was an excellent teaching moment. </p><p><i>LOOK AROUND YOU! </i></p><p>Take an inventory of what needs to be done and recognize that even though it isn't <b><u>all</u> </b>going to benefit you, it is a good thing to do, anyway. Maybe it isn't *all* your trash in the trash can, but what a nice gesture to just bring the trash out. Ditto to recycling the empty bottles of shampoo and conditioner in the shower, wiping down the nasty bathroom countertop and replenishing the toilet paper roll. Towels have a ton of amazing qualities, but unfortunately, none of them possess the ability to hang themselves up. The kitchen is where food belongs. Not in a closet with half of our cutlery. </p><p><i>Let's not live like swine, okay? </i></p><p>The snow was falling at a steady pace by the time the kids, dressed in their finest, departed for the dance in multiple cars. I literally held my hands up and prayed over each one of them as they walked out the front door. <i>"Be safe you guys, no speeding, take your time. Have fun! BE SAFE!" </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6asyi282YIeGv0rFLmujQWulvUbC6pskOPv3qFP0KQFFwdqUWGUvq1n1DjrEVHs0-Gg5ZWj2BfwoC6owl9faPA6Vtd5G28XkyIuVpdAYNfo3nnzgBbGejvXuHbx_35_Jz7oOXH1cHYozbwecIi8aJJDgi9Jj0CcuhF7W-FGogXE3qLtY2Vg/s4032/IMG_6988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6asyi282YIeGv0rFLmujQWulvUbC6pskOPv3qFP0KQFFwdqUWGUvq1n1DjrEVHs0-Gg5ZWj2BfwoC6owl9faPA6Vtd5G28XkyIuVpdAYNfo3nnzgBbGejvXuHbx_35_Jz7oOXH1cHYozbwecIi8aJJDgi9Jj0CcuhF7W-FGogXE3qLtY2Vg/s320/IMG_6988.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>On their way home from the dance, Carolyn snapped off a picture of Henry with his friends in the backseat of our old truck, and texted it to me with the caption, "A car full of freshman!" My happy smile was quickly replaced with a frown when my eagle eyes picked up that there were four kids ... with only three seatbelts ... <i>which none of them were wearing.</i> </p><p>My fury was so great, because I'd *just* read the story to our kids about the UGA football player that was ejected from the car and died, a few hours following the championship party. </p><p>It often happens that I'll read a story from the news to the kids, and they'll collectively gasp and say, "Here we go again ... they did something stupid and they allll died." (insert eye roll) My mother used to tell me stories all the time when I was a kid - to reinforce how the simplest things, can lead to the deadliest consequences if you don't think through what's the worst that could happen. The fact that I've been fortunate enough to avoid tragedy at 51-years of age suggests that I have navigated some precarious situations because I've used my head. And, also, because I must have a guardian angel and have been very lucky. (I started to digress and write stories about guardian angels, who intercede on our behalf, but I'll save that for some other time.) </p><p>Suffice to say, when all the kids (and their friends) returned to our house that evening we had a "talk". Despite their efforts of trying to convey how slowly they were traveling, and there were no other cars on the road, and how the kids were packed so tightly they couldn't have moved in the car, I explained that THE LAW OF PHYSICS doesn't make exceptions. If they hit a patch of ice and slid ... if another car hit them ... if something unexpected happened - like a deer running out on the road - those who were not buckled could potentially be <b>catapulted</b> from the vehicle. Not only are they putting their younger brother at risk - they are putting <u>his</u> friends at risk. AND, their behavior is being observed by the younger kids. If these "older teens" are so cool and willing to take risks / not follow the law, maybe they can do that, too? THEY ARE ALWAYS BEING OBSERVED, let their behavior be a positive example for others! </p><p>How would they like to have a conversation with someone's parents that, "I'm so sorry your child died because I didn't make them do something as simple as buckle up?" Furthermore, aside from the intense tragedy of an accident - their lives would forever be altered - possible jail time, and significant financial repercussions that could extend beyond them - to <i><u>us</u></i>. </p><p>I told all the kids gathered that they should never - <b>never ever</b> - drive a vehicle without making sure everyone is buckled. If they don't want to buckle up, don't drive. My parting words, before I beat them all in Uno, was that if they take anything away from my rants tonight, let it be to: 1) clean up after yourself and always take out the trash and 2) never drive without making sure every one is buckled up, including them. My kids visibly squirmed as I told them - and their friends - I love them all so much and don't ever want to see something bad that is totally preventable, happen to them. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgexvpT9koTzK0NpzQ4sTaGrub0MM3aC59qCkGuRGRWRib9G8_C6_CfToWDSLXoOrYsXn_pUacVcAKF6CHMSvfB26Zga1PVwFOEXGP4aQBAqvYIcKUfi8cA0B24V7w51QfTcFj82sBoqtvbLTTMNrMn63A3vOEkvKaq1pPuR3E1yxjOCDdLA/s4032/IMG_6990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgexvpT9koTzK0NpzQ4sTaGrub0MM3aC59qCkGuRGRWRib9G8_C6_CfToWDSLXoOrYsXn_pUacVcAKF6CHMSvfB26Zga1PVwFOEXGP4aQBAqvYIcKUfi8cA0B24V7w51QfTcFj82sBoqtvbLTTMNrMn63A3vOEkvKaq1pPuR3E1yxjOCDdLA/s320/IMG_6990.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>Teenagers know a lot, but they definitely don't know everything - I often remind them, their brains are not fully formed until 25. So as they do more nest swooping, they better do it with seatbelts securely fastened. Or, well, mama might eat them alive.</p><p></p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-22065229462538846752022-12-28T20:45:00.002-06:002022-12-28T20:51:34.676-06:00our holiday greeting mashup <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Every year, we send out ~120 Christmas cards. The format consists of a family photo, usually a couple shots of the kids - and then some action shots of experiences we've enjoyed over the past year. It also contains a poem that the family will pitch in to write, usually encompassing the entire year in 12 sentences or less. The annual poem is one of our most notable traditions, dating back to 1994: our first year of marriage. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Because we didn't take any grand family vacations over the summer - in mid November, we donned our plaid shirts and went to the field across the street from our house, with sweeping views of the mountains and Lake Champlain, and started snapping off some photos we could use 1) for senior photos for the triplets and 2) our annual Christmas card. </span></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKceIsFKi33O4fsCQB6vcjCoM51e6egH4RW8Nym9eCQy4kFMAC-bl64uSPa5bOQnz9N4CWgLPYeyEW8Ey-u2GfSRee9AJV7UwCXxrmQ-Znb3t3haEfAe9pHxFjaIRy60w-SlUTzRZ7atzHHBkj701qD-_w01B8nX_-8hZYLn-gp2EkiDW7Eg/s3872/DSC_2086.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3872" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKceIsFKi33O4fsCQB6vcjCoM51e6egH4RW8Nym9eCQy4kFMAC-bl64uSPa5bOQnz9N4CWgLPYeyEW8Ey-u2GfSRee9AJV7UwCXxrmQ-Znb3t3haEfAe9pHxFjaIRy60w-SlUTzRZ7atzHHBkj701qD-_w01B8nX_-8hZYLn-gp2EkiDW7Eg/w390-h261/DSC_2086.jpg" width="390" /></a></p><p>Unlike previous years, where I'm scrambling to write and order our cards the second week of December, this year, I was <b>totally ahead</b> of the game and wrote the poem the day <i>after</i> Thanksgiving. Hoping to capitalize on the Black Friday savings, I ordered our 120 cards and applied every discount that I could find including 50% off, free shipping, no tax, and expedited delivery. One discount, a new one to me, because I'd never been on the ball to order Christmas cards so early as Black Friday, was "Buy 100 Cards, Get 20 Free!" Yippee!!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj73VcfPoqK8PmYf1W-SC1A1Txlw-AK-ouUui0amjbPanPbOL9c9A1nzDn9x8wVdXpyu5pbmqse578z6QhovkyskpcFrh56bykO52z-6stuIRlxjwO4hFf1dBVPv3yKyYmG3xwrus_yqoB67o7ju9OOMGX9Da9PX7HqK4GMr0sOi9NUl7Gg/s3872/DSC_2093.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3872" data-original-width="2592" height="447" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCj73VcfPoqK8PmYf1W-SC1A1Txlw-AK-ouUui0amjbPanPbOL9c9A1nzDn9x8wVdXpyu5pbmqse578z6QhovkyskpcFrh56bykO52z-6stuIRlxjwO4hFf1dBVPv3yKyYmG3xwrus_yqoB67o7ju9OOMGX9Da9PX7HqK4GMr0sOi9NUl7Gg/w299-h447/DSC_2093.jpg" width="299" /></a></p><p>In my logic, if I purchased 100 cards - we'd receive another 20 for free, so I'd have the 120 we needed. Alas, when I received the bright orange Shutterfly package less than a week later, and started to write all of our cards week after that, we only noticed that we were 20 cards short after we'd written out 99 of them. </p><p>Charlie was assigned a pile, I was assigned a pile, and we didn't fully comprehend how many were in the respective piles until we were down to the last card. It turns out, when I bought 100 cards, they only charged me for 80 - and sent the 20 for free. <i>AND SO IT IS, WE WERE 20 CARDS SHORT. </i></p><p>Was it me not reading the promo properly, or a very poorly worded promo? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQ5wQmexeFk9w7nLiyCBeAROvJXYcvA72VmZqYgL-dcNVSmG59uM-k4XYOMGyfGuVorUMM15hmpv122mfbkXCtqKfJl4rtIID-KEnKz9U_BK4VVfYofqOLAi_9z8lt_-_d9FSepw0tgJbLeR-umEkrD7ncMi_ZkXMUPdRZCeHZ1c1P4yH7g/s4032/IMG_6203%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQ5wQmexeFk9w7nLiyCBeAROvJXYcvA72VmZqYgL-dcNVSmG59uM-k4XYOMGyfGuVorUMM15hmpv122mfbkXCtqKfJl4rtIID-KEnKz9U_BK4VVfYofqOLAi_9z8lt_-_d9FSepw0tgJbLeR-umEkrD7ncMi_ZkXMUPdRZCeHZ1c1P4yH7g/w315-h420/IMG_6203%202.JPG" width="315" /></a></p><p>The consensus at our house, is that Shutterfly was at fault. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBk_yTD82o28jpqU7DYyirIHPttY6aN6ppeN5JgyS6pQTrz-VpiU4HKHsJYQMHuMG1oC-qLaB26QmMIZrn2Mg8BRTtrhfhJgJEIQ0XyvESyTgV-QT1nUcQxGM_jSjRuqH3IpsuFHn3RAommxCb0AHVylIyWm0FZ1VJWHFbfun5j-RdKSZsig/s3872/DSC_2075.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3872" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBk_yTD82o28jpqU7DYyirIHPttY6aN6ppeN5JgyS6pQTrz-VpiU4HKHsJYQMHuMG1oC-qLaB26QmMIZrn2Mg8BRTtrhfhJgJEIQ0XyvESyTgV-QT1nUcQxGM_jSjRuqH3IpsuFHn3RAommxCb0AHVylIyWm0FZ1VJWHFbfun5j-RdKSZsig/w379-h253/DSC_2075.jpg" width="379" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Regardless, there is no feeling quite like the feeling of realizing you don't have enough Christmas cards for some really important people on your list. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Perhaps a few of our old friends - who we haven't heard from in a couple years - could have been skipped this year to make room for a beloved aunt who never writes a card, but you </span><b style="text-align: left;">know</b><span style="text-align: left;"> looks forward to receiving ours. </span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBcBxRfAacyU1x-4_VYz_Ew9XVTQWpbPj2IwXlva2qQTdqk-BfnkZjdxHbgNAetbGjnte0L_6heI8HpiK-oG_1jMkQ3IHMigzwYSTmMOw3g-M5A6idTSM56IUxQa8gzP2pIqtoG1DmrrYBXgoRIlLgNPlIE1tOeRHrbKvKDaD95yjaJ-4mA/s4032/IMG_6220%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNBcBxRfAacyU1x-4_VYz_Ew9XVTQWpbPj2IwXlva2qQTdqk-BfnkZjdxHbgNAetbGjnte0L_6heI8HpiK-oG_1jMkQ3IHMigzwYSTmMOw3g-M5A6idTSM56IUxQa8gzP2pIqtoG1DmrrYBXgoRIlLgNPlIE1tOeRHrbKvKDaD95yjaJ-4mA/w384-h288/IMG_6220%202.JPG" width="384" /></a></p><p>Unfortunately, all those cards to people that we might have skipped this year, had already been written out and we found ourselves in a <b><i><u>serious</u></i></b> pinch. </p><p>So that same evening, I logged on to Shutterfly and ordered 20 additional cards. Taking stock of the date, I realized that although the cards would <i>just </i>be here in time for Christmas, by the time we wrote them and mailed them ... and they are delivered far and wide across the nation ... it'll likely be <i>after</i> Christmas. So I tweaked the card from "MERRIEST CHRISTMAS!" to "HAPPIEST NEW YEAR!"</p><p><b>EXHIBIT 1. </b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5Ush492hpcFHBm8SeUpajHhORvNKWi0FoaEdZCx5N7wx-_Yl48232K5T2JO8KA1x3mJ-tnXJSjM1CgE56ohxGpvzXzeO7Pp3ihy0SiIGetQxEnq65l7OQ2-usc02_diwBmeFR_ujkzwcBKOoLIZUZaSPQAkwOeTwcFMNtK52ZGy45n3pzg/s4032/IMG_6769.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA5Ush492hpcFHBm8SeUpajHhORvNKWi0FoaEdZCx5N7wx-_Yl48232K5T2JO8KA1x3mJ-tnXJSjM1CgE56ohxGpvzXzeO7Pp3ihy0SiIGetQxEnq65l7OQ2-usc02_diwBmeFR_ujkzwcBKOoLIZUZaSPQAkwOeTwcFMNtK52ZGy45n3pzg/w397-h298/IMG_6769.jpg" width="397" /></a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b style="text-align: left;">That was the ONLY change.</b><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Everything else, all photos, the poem, etc. etc. etc. were identical. I quickly hit "ORDER" and lamented that without all the discounts I'd received on Black Friday (including free shipping) - this batch of 20 cards cost me nearly half as much as the 100 (er, 80) cards I'd purchased earlier in the month. Dagnabbit!</span></div><p></p><p>Because we didn't have expedited shipping with the second batch, we didn't receive them until nearly three weeks later. So when I arrived them just this past week, I felt tremendous satisfaction that we had made that change from "Merry Christmas" to "Happy New Years" since there was no way they'd be there in time for Christmas. At first glance, the cards looked great and I was excited to get them to the remaining people on our list. </p><p>Imagine my surprise - and then shock and horror - when the kids started laughing hysterically and pointed out that the boys heads were missing. </p><p>EXHIBIT 2. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK00aA-4PwVrCKIPu-cIyc5BEs8XUjlvCZUANRRAu0JTTDl0gJHup_PU_jlz0dX5lUdxG3Flpzb0F128gs0nJO3Wd0tDHMacYkpVzscjorMSudTQPk1nmvkeyZWOicRRFTVy3zVax9E2r3bKoreqSMdHbPe2dEVB9U5WbGZ5AkbHU3Bfie2A/s4032/IMG_6770.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK00aA-4PwVrCKIPu-cIyc5BEs8XUjlvCZUANRRAu0JTTDl0gJHup_PU_jlz0dX5lUdxG3Flpzb0F128gs0nJO3Wd0tDHMacYkpVzscjorMSudTQPk1nmvkeyZWOicRRFTVy3zVax9E2r3bKoreqSMdHbPe2dEVB9U5WbGZ5AkbHU3Bfie2A/w408-h306/IMG_6770.jpg" width="408" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">At this point, I was finished with cards, and just needed these to go in the mail. I was not in the slightest way interested in reordering any more - nor filing a complaint and asking for a refund. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">However, I was convinced that Shutterfly was now 0/2, I logged on to the website and reviewed my order. Although I'd only changed the words "MERRIEST" to "HAPPIEST", it would seem that this tiniest edit <i><u>shifted</u></i> the images on the card and lopped off the top of my boys heads. Had I taken a hot minute to proofread the entire card, I would have noticed this and made the necessary correction. Oops. </span></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The consensus at our house, is that this one's on me. BUT, had Shutterfly not flubbed up the marketing campaign with 20 free cards, we wouldn't be in this predicament at all, now would we? Hahahaha!!!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjML3X7N7InpvYlTUn7QdXguUaUNCQR6_Y12oIlx-QVR72sgzG11vHRm-AM2oHgGh0fqHsMLB1nhib12mpfck0AUNAvM3qW5X1UVb2NlBj4REokIrQZJQhCdxG_agcCZxzJV6G4LC9f7zoMySQFCMnb08bH5ou0ynkfU-hpYB1iypGU3C8hfA/s4032/IMG_6209%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjML3X7N7InpvYlTUn7QdXguUaUNCQR6_Y12oIlx-QVR72sgzG11vHRm-AM2oHgGh0fqHsMLB1nhib12mpfck0AUNAvM3qW5X1UVb2NlBj4REokIrQZJQhCdxG_agcCZxzJV6G4LC9f7zoMySQFCMnb08bH5ou0ynkfU-hpYB1iypGU3C8hfA/w414-h311/IMG_6209%202.JPG" width="414" /></a></p><p>Ah well. I'm over it. And it certainly seems like the boys have grown out of the frame since these photos were taken. Henry has cleared 6'0, and William is 6'3". At his brother's age, William was *only* 5'9" so I wouldn't be surprised if my littlest firecracker winds up being the tallest of the group. I've never seen a child eat as much as he does. He received an Air Fryer for Christmas (his #1 request!) and has cooked and consumed at least 15 pounds of chicken in the past three days. I'm not even kidding. </p><p>All I know is that every single day it looks like they're taller than they were the day before. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2n4cFBaVW5kchZ7oH6qa9Cu0Hm-gT96qGOWcPz09PTMek2imA273ibbF9vGA0dRtSBVwXY-5k90Gp0RNwVyLe1waIMsefGh0vvVnLhTEHpl6OGD315OeHfqUcrVSuIQFWWFcSmb7SbDATgQDueq-eJWV3Fve2_4nkx7xXB341EQ-zZgMRqg/s3088/IMG_6242.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="3088" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2n4cFBaVW5kchZ7oH6qa9Cu0Hm-gT96qGOWcPz09PTMek2imA273ibbF9vGA0dRtSBVwXY-5k90Gp0RNwVyLe1waIMsefGh0vvVnLhTEHpl6OGD315OeHfqUcrVSuIQFWWFcSmb7SbDATgQDueq-eJWV3Fve2_4nkx7xXB341EQ-zZgMRqg/w398-h299/IMG_6242.jpg" width="398" /></a></p><p>Either they're getting taller, or I'm shrinking. </p><p>Probably a little of both. But it's so incredibly wonderful having all these people around that can reach things on the top shelf for me! </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-25136095677858443922022-12-13T22:00:00.001-06:002022-12-13T22:03:43.256-06:00do you sprechen sie deutsch?We recently sent out our annual Christmas cards, and for the first time in a few years, I added our blog address as a means of communication. I haven't been great about updating the blog, but as I was writing our annual card, I thought that maybe by sharing the address, I'd feel inspired to log on and provide more frequent updates (at least for the next couple of weeks, ha!). With more updates, we'll generate more archives of memories - and Charlie is better able to turn those memories in to volumes of books that he likes to give me each year at Christmas as a present. (Although, he has warned me that the past few years of blog posts only equate to a few pages - so he can't publish another one until I write more!!) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It worked! With that bout of inspiration, here I am - updating the blog! <div><br /></div><div>There are so many exciting things happening in our lives at the moment, but one of the biggest is that William, who is in his fourth year of German, is involved in The International Experience (TIE) through his high school. </div><div><br /></div><div>This past October, we hosted a German student from Hameln, at our home for two weeks. In February 2023, William will be exchanging to Hameln to stay with that same student's family for two weeks. When William applied to the TIE program last year, he was thoughtfully filling out his application, when his head popped up and he asked, "Mom? Can I ask you a question? Should I request a girl or a boy exchange student?" Without hesitation I replied, "A BOY, without question or discussion." </div><div><br /></div><div>Because... <b><i>William is a teenage boy.</i></b> The absolute last thing that we (or I, his mother) want at this stage in life is for an adorable German girl to come to our home and sweep our American boy off his <span style="font-family: inherit;">fuß and the next thing you know, he wants to move to Germany or something crazy. </span> </div><div><br /></div><div><i>I just have a way of seeing in to the future, you know? </i></div></div><div><br /></div><div>A few months after William had submitted his application, he came home one day and walked in to my office where I was busy working. "Mom, we received our TIE student placement today," he declared with a solemn face. He shook his head and with a deep sigh added, "I have bad news, and I have good news." </div><div><br /></div><div>My response was something like, "Uh-huh." Glasses dropped to the brim of my nose and I peered over my spectacles, waiting. I knew what was coming. </div><div><br /></div><div>He continued, "Well, for the bad news, it seems that there were a lot more girls from Germany that applied to the program than there were boys. And well, it seems that there are a lot more boys that applied for the program in Vermont than there are girls. As a result ... I'm so, so sorry Mom, but our exchange student is a girl. Her name is Carlotta." </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESg_uxPzO_-A4I3PAaIbfbyBNJWteCn3UsqG8m858AxbufcJM-CR8Ml5sPy6FO_lkE-7bl_P0vM8Izhhi7QykzIH-jHhfkWRznK0wR322HqXNqpmThN6Ku1oDWSQRlfOX47CmArYfdLzyETTUfOCMMOZXTU1huw4wk3oezlkMek_qzNbvqw/s4032/IMG_5329.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgESg_uxPzO_-A4I3PAaIbfbyBNJWteCn3UsqG8m858AxbufcJM-CR8Ml5sPy6FO_lkE-7bl_P0vM8Izhhi7QykzIH-jHhfkWRznK0wR322HqXNqpmThN6Ku1oDWSQRlfOX47CmArYfdLzyETTUfOCMMOZXTU1huw4wk3oezlkMek_qzNbvqw/s320/IMG_5329.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Yep. Just as expected. "Uh-huh. So what's the good news?" (No spoiler alert for me: I already knew the answer to this.) </div><div><br /></div><div>He then broke in to a huge smile and said, "Here's her picture!" </div><div><br /></div><div>When I had imagined what the adorable German girl might possibly look like, that might be the one to sweep our American boy off his feet, wouldn't you know, she looked EXACTLY like Carlotta. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDZIfYemGVBZtQb7zDfxflEVMB4Mv5fPmsbZvvWRcgnJ6WknEeYR750MHkqLNSN3UbwltEjDFhAdDVJTg5t3hCVoTfVoQR3ubodFBfbUQ2WPnnbQXJjo0vGowlV-7prNU-Bam6GL3YeWf44dLRUTEgUTLIfpdmn8E5rPNHGC9KK8tLBpj4g/s4032/IMG_5274.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrDZIfYemGVBZtQb7zDfxflEVMB4Mv5fPmsbZvvWRcgnJ6WknEeYR750MHkqLNSN3UbwltEjDFhAdDVJTg5t3hCVoTfVoQR3ubodFBfbUQ2WPnnbQXJjo0vGowlV-7prNU-Bam6GL3YeWf44dLRUTEgUTLIfpdmn8E5rPNHGC9KK8tLBpj4g/s320/IMG_5274.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>So from my perspective, the best possible news is that when we finally met Carlotta, within the first five minutes of our introduction - I had discerned that she has a SERIOUS BOYFRIEND WHO IS HER BEST FRIEND AND THAT SHE LOVES VERY MUCH. Can I get a Hallelujah, Amen?! </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Ah, but wait. </i> </div><div><br /></div><div>Carlotta is extremely sweet and kind, and she and William had an absolute blast spending two weeks together, traveling all around the state with the other exchange students and playing cards - at every free moment. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaBM8mVUh1vKgCaxxcnN7rip-dVUruXzNafaOHiJuSJShDwat7zhlwdbRoN8pW22y-U_A3kbqgyT3MUhaVd-BWUQGIZmuYo8GBNz6Pl6NWh243VivCJLA4B1eOIw-k1YIDMfW73HuYy06OgVzToB06KaFUEeq3UJuQw9JG8yP3YNTV5JrYA/s4032/IMG_5352.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWaBM8mVUh1vKgCaxxcnN7rip-dVUruXzNafaOHiJuSJShDwat7zhlwdbRoN8pW22y-U_A3kbqgyT3MUhaVd-BWUQGIZmuYo8GBNz6Pl6NWh243VivCJLA4B1eOIw-k1YIDMfW73HuYy06OgVzToB06KaFUEeq3UJuQw9JG8yP3YNTV5JrYA/s320/IMG_5352.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Our kids have since said that the two weeks Carlotta and the German students were here, were the most fun of the entire year. Even with Charlie - Henry - and Liz all falling ill with Covid three days before she arrived. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjWZ7KjzR4osrh32HnbnvOvfrur5yxP-XvYKQ_DXFgYP4NEtn0Y6VrhhHSYDYFGzrQz2hJfczOg2ICVx--vsbgiF0Z8yeot_OoZGWa-tV5dX82rE375QoDCC2Hj28RYEv88l6Dc0Vd8q-eDkYWdAUh5tbZef1q9WQzvmXxPHoE3Q_3oz5SQ/s4032/IMG_5155.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjWZ7KjzR4osrh32HnbnvOvfrur5yxP-XvYKQ_DXFgYP4NEtn0Y6VrhhHSYDYFGzrQz2hJfczOg2ICVx--vsbgiF0Z8yeot_OoZGWa-tV5dX82rE375QoDCC2Hj28RYEv88l6Dc0Vd8q-eDkYWdAUh5tbZef1q9WQzvmXxPHoE3Q_3oz5SQ/s320/IMG_5155.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, and miraculously, the virus dodged William, Carolyn and I ... and Carlotta ... and once the three had been quarantined in the basement for the requisite time, all was well. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36iR4HWVa6JopR6-XihCSX1PimFFj-2q5xIhavOnGOZ-YO6_K0sHeb6z0nOLIVuDvmwqwx4cn4jnLOzaUy3qJcDEf6VdG5JU_hj-gMmqu3R9n-BT0e1wvXk7T--_ikhZzDsLSOgcLNOnAHi8TSKh0tc4CuuXSvxTOoEJM1TLi4WP3clCdkA/s4032/IMG_5198.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36iR4HWVa6JopR6-XihCSX1PimFFj-2q5xIhavOnGOZ-YO6_K0sHeb6z0nOLIVuDvmwqwx4cn4jnLOzaUy3qJcDEf6VdG5JU_hj-gMmqu3R9n-BT0e1wvXk7T--_ikhZzDsLSOgcLNOnAHi8TSKh0tc4CuuXSvxTOoEJM1TLi4WP3clCdkA/s320/IMG_5198.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Because the exchange occurred over the triplet's birthday, which also coincided with homecoming, we hosted a huge party at our house the entire weekend of October 14-16. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYokttr1tvBONHSVPHpewrwhGAtxxu9E4Tb67xKM6ZfRIuS5ics5N363XpOEoGotESiejCpv6scj4q4tEgmt5uPW6nxExEmYhUkGAVk_oZ6iq8wVmn99EAvY96IpDoVJd-ripPDb9OOA4f5odUrft2hv4rNhOCLQaXx0wa--GgkGw5uj392g/s4032/IMG_5290.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYokttr1tvBONHSVPHpewrwhGAtxxu9E4Tb67xKM6ZfRIuS5ics5N363XpOEoGotESiejCpv6scj4q4tEgmt5uPW6nxExEmYhUkGAVk_oZ6iq8wVmn99EAvY96IpDoVJd-ripPDb9OOA4f5odUrft2hv4rNhOCLQaXx0wa--GgkGw5uj392g/s320/IMG_5290.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On Friday night, we had at least 60 kids. They rolled in at 10 PM after the football game (where our kids were so amazed that the entire student body sang them happy birthday while they were in the stands ... just one more thing that they have told me would likely never to have happened at their mega school in Texas!) and a good portion of the SBHS student population took over our basement. We served up tons of pizza ... </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkQk8KhAlv7XJ6Teb9RF1yljauVKoOjnVJAHZxkCIM-CxHhASjF3KjfrIopqDknkQmul8FYTU2eSYUiAIDkctcPjbT-yVxmrM7pmzRYxvAqVlG80halH5IcswUH_5bfzZ2pzfzvMvPtdPjBucB_DhoLcbLbsxgVtS5HTADtkWCwiACnzv-w/s4032/IMG_5281.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIkQk8KhAlv7XJ6Teb9RF1yljauVKoOjnVJAHZxkCIM-CxHhASjF3KjfrIopqDknkQmul8FYTU2eSYUiAIDkctcPjbT-yVxmrM7pmzRYxvAqVlG80halH5IcswUH_5bfzZ2pzfzvMvPtdPjBucB_DhoLcbLbsxgVtS5HTADtkWCwiACnzv-w/s320/IMG_5281.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>While the kids played foosball, laser tag, darts, and had an intense "Just Dance" off between the Americans vs. Germans. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw16MaGhhHP0VQCLcWgJM18deEyQgRQuxUcojKjxUnw4IIiNi9u9CjKrMQgyJ6_nP0iWtpO3mxNPtBEEA_-H0NbUp4LNkRlZmOLyUd4rAaO_VZrwiHXdJTvHcEnjV941DxkDqTeXjv1d4oracPGXRCDYI-w5V5UszS2oAna5v2vE8TAhnhUA/s4032/IMG_5282.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw16MaGhhHP0VQCLcWgJM18deEyQgRQuxUcojKjxUnw4IIiNi9u9CjKrMQgyJ6_nP0iWtpO3mxNPtBEEA_-H0NbUp4LNkRlZmOLyUd4rAaO_VZrwiHXdJTvHcEnjV941DxkDqTeXjv1d4oracPGXRCDYI-w5V5UszS2oAna5v2vE8TAhnhUA/s320/IMG_5282.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh_DbsktGtN5HzFjZNJdFFVFQSWkE9ePh6ektzwydWfSvS6hDyYCmKxlvygLBa-uJvzyk2CdLGp7fJcswdkMiJbTrNN_-keoiH1_orfcuUidMfoy5G-TaA8J_PufNzjLwuyYn7WZTurd8WLEDOQSPvk2JonOHVGqlOy0lYxyU3JUrvWY43g/s4032/IMG_5285.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMh_DbsktGtN5HzFjZNJdFFVFQSWkE9ePh6ektzwydWfSvS6hDyYCmKxlvygLBa-uJvzyk2CdLGp7fJcswdkMiJbTrNN_-keoiH1_orfcuUidMfoy5G-TaA8J_PufNzjLwuyYn7WZTurd8WLEDOQSPvk2JonOHVGqlOy0lYxyU3JUrvWY43g/s320/IMG_5285.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaY7WNvrYTw7nGQSo9pOqXzA9LQybpfNR9GNeOJk13EVDeYve0mKfIaJnFYEG1oAnPLhs8O_H7N1Vn2VrtMPXZwHQW557dwshz1dQ77inw2kb-yAlTt5IdAya7tGKd8Y0Mo-S4eKg705YfTeQvAYdsVx8r2lm8vUpu7retklfoCQz8FOuyQA/s4032/IMG_5293.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaY7WNvrYTw7nGQSo9pOqXzA9LQybpfNR9GNeOJk13EVDeYve0mKfIaJnFYEG1oAnPLhs8O_H7N1Vn2VrtMPXZwHQW557dwshz1dQ77inw2kb-yAlTt5IdAya7tGKd8Y0Mo-S4eKg705YfTeQvAYdsVx8r2lm8vUpu7retklfoCQz8FOuyQA/s320/IMG_5293.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div></div><div>On Saturday, we took a gaggle of kids to tour the Ben & Jerry factory down the road ... and had another 30 kids descend on our house. We served up chili and cornbread and the kids bundled up warmly and watched Maverick on our inflatable 20' outdoor screen (which, should I ever resurrect "Favorite Thing Friday" would be on the list!) </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kcr_XthcvV6ETSsXrT4kXrYScr0GK-jkt7qoczD-Wu-NpN26HUyc6CvlWHZeOe7X39_yICZq_HC9FTmY2XX4cV-r92UYt5y3_eUAc1n8Tc0pedrxA0C8nONFk8jsRCeLk2QQ6tRvkLfXihN6oxudBO0DxUOUvPLw8yYDKincqNJvecoYwQ/s4032/IMG_5332.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kcr_XthcvV6ETSsXrT4kXrYScr0GK-jkt7qoczD-Wu-NpN26HUyc6CvlWHZeOe7X39_yICZq_HC9FTmY2XX4cV-r92UYt5y3_eUAc1n8Tc0pedrxA0C8nONFk8jsRCeLk2QQ6tRvkLfXihN6oxudBO0DxUOUvPLw8yYDKincqNJvecoYwQ/s320/IMG_5332.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yoKYwYAXjnjuTs5CjkCCQharkSGtkkb6XVt2SmKMw3fS2eRKGJdF3TjozLMRgqSiSL5c_Y8Pp3s9qOkcifNgjD_7pI4ub1Ho3znp6UhDaHcaTZUc0aRfkf3LIZa37Qzau1JurVSS2t2vsZP-eVpKZDWU9rdbSlJYZH2F1ZAT7sS2hcjAXQ/s4032/IMG_5346.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0yoKYwYAXjnjuTs5CjkCCQharkSGtkkb6XVt2SmKMw3fS2eRKGJdF3TjozLMRgqSiSL5c_Y8Pp3s9qOkcifNgjD_7pI4ub1Ho3znp6UhDaHcaTZUc0aRfkf3LIZa37Qzau1JurVSS2t2vsZP-eVpKZDWU9rdbSlJYZH2F1ZAT7sS2hcjAXQ/s320/IMG_5346.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On Sunday, we picked bags and bags of apples. So many bags, we still have at least four dozen apples left over, two months later. More kids were back at our house that evening for dancing, and card playing. We also ate two huge Costco cakes which we'd been too full to consume on the prior two nights what with all the pizza and chili. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyRptyOrQPv8TSyCfCTFO8O9I-loqBR2C06uyCDB4y4NHMjc19t1JBtTt56lzjKelMkdAuyG2HJB3Tt1_nBOd0sI9c0SG5OW-4aXFjeePjGEBMgrnHw9jtEy8iQ6R7d5-OyObU03td0JKfzDZm1J5bX7jVg0MluyaUh7EZ2bnj1B2cGM4RLg/s4032/IMG_5369.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyRptyOrQPv8TSyCfCTFO8O9I-loqBR2C06uyCDB4y4NHMjc19t1JBtTt56lzjKelMkdAuyG2HJB3Tt1_nBOd0sI9c0SG5OW-4aXFjeePjGEBMgrnHw9jtEy8iQ6R7d5-OyObU03td0JKfzDZm1J5bX7jVg0MluyaUh7EZ2bnj1B2cGM4RLg/s320/IMG_5369.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On Monday, we bid the German students a teary farewell ... and within hours, William had connected with Carlotta's soon to be brother-in-law (who it turns out, was Carlotta's sister's American host family a few years ago; you read that right) and learned <i>all about</i> the Congress-Bundestag Youth Exchange. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-cBFrfNXyL8Ni4p34-oH7CBRBvRsLavzGG-FOgubSawfeak0NedvVx7AFCylIkLK0q-g4kJ8e1-D4vSsplcgo1qGcMMmSMUohcz3NPMvrw2Lc9Qf5nGcrg7PAcgZ9IKuQc5BquoMGZ8fEql5GHQUdByxdHfwMa4dI7qTRJSBfLyeJ0uvlg/s4032/IMG_5420.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-cBFrfNXyL8Ni4p34-oH7CBRBvRsLavzGG-FOgubSawfeak0NedvVx7AFCylIkLK0q-g4kJ8e1-D4vSsplcgo1qGcMMmSMUohcz3NPMvrw2Lc9Qf5nGcrg7PAcgZ9IKuQc5BquoMGZ8fEql5GHQUdByxdHfwMa4dI7qTRJSBfLyeJ0uvlg/s320/IMG_5420.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>Within the month, he had applied. </div><div><br /></div><div>Suffice to say, beyond his exchange to Germany this coming February, William is now hoping to be accepted in to the CBYX program for the Fall of 2023. Although he is applying to a handful of schools including the University of Vermont, and US Coast Guard Academy ... my instinct tells me that this program in Germany is his first choice. He also tells me, it has <i><b>nothing</b></i> to do with Carlotta. She has a boyfriend after all, Mom. I believe him - I know he is extremely interested in the language, history, culture and geography of Germany. And yes, whatever, the girls are also *kind* of cute. </div><div><br /></div><div>And so it is, if he is accepted, I suspect we'll be saying <i>"Auf wiedersehen, William!"</i> next August. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaZnVgprq8_NlBgMLRDpfI0bZV7bbrSQXtqKThbLMMos8Fav9O5ypMm02OI3M23b0kx1-Yptosu7otoHpZgUCxsn122CYJQfhCEm9m4Pd1TUaU4YbViv7fZJ0LVqDKJJnLPfsjmNegEjfvuV2hVq39sfRrko0ObkHrIgrj7h9RY6L9o-PrQ/s4032/IMG_5356.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaZnVgprq8_NlBgMLRDpfI0bZV7bbrSQXtqKThbLMMos8Fav9O5ypMm02OI3M23b0kx1-Yptosu7otoHpZgUCxsn122CYJQfhCEm9m4Pd1TUaU4YbViv7fZJ0LVqDKJJnLPfsjmNegEjfvuV2hVq39sfRrko0ObkHrIgrj7h9RY6L9o-PrQ/s320/IMG_5356.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Can't say I didn't see this one coming. </div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-51674990646452205602022-10-06T00:08:00.003-05:002022-10-06T00:08:56.546-05:00life is sweeter in Vermont <p>Today, I got a phone call from an old colleague of mine from ExxonMobil. Bruce and I worked together for several years, and I always enjoyed bantering with him, and the business trips we took together. He was a Project Manager, and I was his Technical Advisor - providing support by reviewing various reports and consultant recommendations, and formulating strategies to negotiate with the regulatory agencies. Bruce is an absolute hoot. He retired in December of 2020 and I wrote him a poem in honor of the occasion, which I delivered over a farewell Zoom party that our entire group had dialed in to. </p><p>All of Bruce's contact information was on my ExxonMobil computer and when I abruptly resigned last year - my mind just wasn't in the "space" of moving contact information to my personal computer. Bruce lives in Tampa, Florida - so he was in my thoughts all last week as Hurricane Ian was bearing down on the west side of the state. I reached out to another old colleague - who provided me his information - and I shot him an email over the weekend, just to let him know that I was thinking of him and his family and praying they were all safe. Within a day he replied to let me know that YES thankfully, they were all safe, and he was so happy to hear from me. He asked how my family was doing - how my mom was doing (he had met my mom, Mary, on one of our trips!) and how life was treating me these days at ExxonMobil. I shot back a quick note that read, </p><p></p><blockquote><i>"In an absolutely crazy twist of fate, while we were on another of our awesome road trips last summer, we were visiting the idyllic town of Burlington Vermont, checking out colleges for the triplets and we decided to stay. We never went back to Texas ... I resigned after 20 years with ExxonMobil and all four kids started school from the Airstream. After nearly 8 weeks, we moved in to a rental house, and slept in sleeping bags for an additional two months until our furniture was moved north. True story. There's a little more to it, I'll fill you in on the details when you have a chance to give me a call!" </i></blockquote><p></p><p>Within 24 hours, Bruce called and said that he read my note over and over again - and finally just had to call to make sure he read what I had written correctly. When I told him the details of what had happened, how I had been put it in the lowest rank group, he was shocked. (It always makes me feel so good to hear the indignation from others at what I consider my mistreatment.) I told him, <i>"You know I have triplets right? It was a shock to hear that we would be having three babies. BUT NOTHING, and I MEAN NOTHING, could have shocked me <b>more</b> than to hear that I was in the NSI bucket at ExxonMobil! Within a couple days, we signed a lease on a rental house in Vermont and hired my good friend to sell our house in Texas." </i>Bruce was in disbelief, and awe, at our fearlessness. I told him, it wasn't *exactly* fearless ... I had some pretty rough times where I second guessed everything. But, I held strong and had faith in me, and Charlie ... and our kids who have thrived beyond what I could have imagined. </p><p>Two weeks ago, I actually flew down to Texas for the first time - since I left on vacation in June of 2021, to attend a conference at the ExxonMobil headquarters in Houston. (aka: my old office.) It was the first time my feet had been on Texas soil since we rolled out of town with the Airstream and a rack full of bicycles, on that fateful day, June 17, 2021. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWty3XLdEB7esDyZpyY7YSJSvbwc5L-O5snR9ZvLllaA9k5A9T-EJZcYoLCQavPTZkg8UcXkK2qrNRq6RP5ZQxUiMZkNH91VDzfZ5aOn4jmiSAOUlUa_wY_gi0ATCM4w4FG_53n1UZhwd5sakpTel6ydsJJKeZNfU4RYsOyYwYXmCJ72jYQ/s2079/IMG_51F304D600A8-1%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2079" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWty3XLdEB7esDyZpyY7YSJSvbwc5L-O5snR9ZvLllaA9k5A9T-EJZcYoLCQavPTZkg8UcXkK2qrNRq6RP5ZQxUiMZkNH91VDzfZ5aOn4jmiSAOUlUa_wY_gi0ATCM4w4FG_53n1UZhwd5sakpTel6ydsJJKeZNfU4RYsOyYwYXmCJ72jYQ/s320/IMG_51F304D600A8-1%202.jpeg" width="148" /></a></div><p></p><p>I told Bruce that before my business trip, I went to a local farm, and brought nearly 20 pounds of maple syrup in little tiny 1.5-oz "nip" bottles so that I could tote them in my carry-on luggage. During my two days there, I had my day bag stuffed each day with the maple syrup nips, and I handed them out to various old friends that I saw. As it turned out, I had handed out all the nips - with only one remaining - and I as I was walking out the door to catch my Uber to the airport, I bumped in to the Global Manager. The Manager I had spoken to who told me to please pivot and come back to Texas. The one who had told me I was a valued employee and they needed me. The one that I told that if I was so valued, why did they allow me to be put in that bottom rank group? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYUkYPVrK4babu79wSAN1O1tHSfZloN_Q8BukTJxm1GQaVPdC0wmSbYKLLA73SUYpkJOmyHtEAG-tvFq7PUqGuEXM5wSZ3E0rhYdje-utcfAGG7APFW60M2N1hwWpNPGRkO35dN-0g5vJiC-VzV0bo6SE9SVVE78sCGmhZ5afcT-QjAFTxQ/s1500/BMF_1ozNip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYUkYPVrK4babu79wSAN1O1tHSfZloN_Q8BukTJxm1GQaVPdC0wmSbYKLLA73SUYpkJOmyHtEAG-tvFq7PUqGuEXM5wSZ3E0rhYdje-utcfAGG7APFW60M2N1hwWpNPGRkO35dN-0g5vJiC-VzV0bo6SE9SVVE78sCGmhZ5afcT-QjAFTxQ/w229-h229/BMF_1ozNip.jpg" width="229" /></a></p><p>That manager got my last bottle of maple syrup, and as I handed it to him, I said, <i>"While I do miss everyone, this was the best decision I could have ever made for my family... life really is sweeter in Vermont!" </i></p><p>Upon hearing this, Bruce howled with laughter and said, <i>"Damn. You have <b><u>got</u></b> to write a book. I'm not even kidding, I'd buy it and read the whole thing!" </i></p><p>Sounds fun. But I wouldn't even know where to begin. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-68349148820847638522022-08-30T08:25:00.002-05:002022-08-30T08:25:43.478-05:00first - last - and a year ago at this time<p>Today it's the first day of school in Vermont. </p><p>This was intended to simply be a photo post, but while I'm here, I may as well give an update!</p><p>The summer here was <u><i><b>epic</b></i></u> and for the first time in a very, very long time - we didn't feel the desire to go ANYWHERE. Between the lake, the mountains, the gardens, the bike path, the incredible weather - we just wanted to soak it all up, so we stayed right where we are and it was divine. </p><p>The girls, however, took a three week trip in late June through the middle of July. Their destination was Texas - where they rendezvoused with our old BSA Scout Troop, and headed to the high adventure camp at Philmont. They took a 12-day backpacking trek and had a great time while covering nearly 70 miles of terrain in the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Photos of that experience will be posted here at some later date... I hope. <br /></p><p>Henry took off for two weeks of Scout camp - one week at NYLT (National Youth Leadership Training) in the local Vermont mountains - and another week in New Hampshire. He had a great time and is really coming in to his own, this summer. In addition to procuring a job at the local grocery store - he landed a spot on the high school football team; has eclipsed Gracie at 6'1" and is rapidly closing the height gap with his brother who as of yesterday, is 6'3". </p><p>William was accepted in to the US Coast Guard Academy AIM Program and spent a week at "boot camp" which is intended to give rising seniors a flavor of what life would be like at the Academy. It is heralded as the "most accurate" of all the service academies boot camps and was <b>extremely </b>challenging. When he came home, he was still squaring his meals - despite spiking a 103.5 degree temperature thanks to Influenza A that he picked up while he was there. </p><p>In addition to the Coast Guard flu, that ticked each off us off, and leveled the entire family for three weeks, the triplets had their wisdom teeth out. In between bouts of sickness and surgeries, we toured several schools in the area: Dartmouth, Middlebury, University of Vermont (again) ... and took a drive an hour north to checkout McGill. We also entertained my mom, Aunt Grace, little cousin Mary Elizabeth, who flew from South Carolina to Vermont, for the triplets Eagle Scout Court of Honor, which we celebrated a few weeks ago. So many milestones and big life happenings... <br /></p><p>It's hard to contemplate that in less than a year the triplets will be graduating from high school and starting the next chapter of their lives. <br /></p><p>Which brings us back to this post. Today was the last first day of school for the triplets as they begin their senior year. The first day of high school for Henry as he starts as a freshman. The first time that the four of them have all been together at school in eight years, since we were in Virginia; and the last time the four of them will be together before the triplets graduate. </p><p>There are SO MANY REASONS I'm grateful that we left Texas; having them all together in school is just one of those reasons. In the area of Texas where we lived, students are in one school for K-4; another school for 5-6 grade; another school for 7-8 grade; a separate school for 9th grade; and another school for 10-12 grade. Had we still been in Texas, Henry would be at the 9th grade campus this year - and would miss the opportunity to drive, eat lunch, and hang out with his senior siblings. </p><p>Another great thing is that school here doesn't start until 9:00! Gone are the days we'd have to get sleep-deprived teenagers up before the sun; loading the bus at 6:20. Now they can wake up well rested by 8:00, have breakfast - and drive themselves to school by 8:50! </p><p>OK! Photos! </p><p>First day of school - kindergarten - for the triplets in 2010! <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKO77pjo1jF9QoXw-8SlWVoHO-lHCdEOoPBoU0HK7YFF7Tb0KVIF_SfqvNlcUENWMkseIIRMtvJGY-3OEVtUH6xm0VFidXJBUoHD0WaXt4dP5_ZlQitFsZwGXbIsq1CDXxN2IhqLDxXCOlelFiQU5fbT5CVgJ-0GnoaOnh57t9Ed6vmmsijw/s500/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="335" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKO77pjo1jF9QoXw-8SlWVoHO-lHCdEOoPBoU0HK7YFF7Tb0KVIF_SfqvNlcUENWMkseIIRMtvJGY-3OEVtUH6xm0VFidXJBUoHD0WaXt4dP5_ZlQitFsZwGXbIsq1CDXxN2IhqLDxXCOlelFiQU5fbT5CVgJ-0GnoaOnh57t9Ed6vmmsijw/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><p></p><p>First day of school - kindergarten (Henry); third grade (triplets) in 2013! <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE25yZpduYvZYlm0cKcwYwiI_sAlvRBgk2lAhlG1NC2UzKo_X9kzFh2vxMdu-cLWXi4i0imVSdmP5VxfCx3pt1lfhH7smI0Ar_RbVryIKUV-guUmWrJ8IroxZrntXsjGaGPzkWLfI5dyAUjJPrdyxc7SBuPSriJeP9o_HtLOVwULRUMxiCtw/s500/unnamed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="332" data-original-width="500" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE25yZpduYvZYlm0cKcwYwiI_sAlvRBgk2lAhlG1NC2UzKo_X9kzFh2vxMdu-cLWXi4i0imVSdmP5VxfCx3pt1lfhH7smI0Ar_RbVryIKUV-guUmWrJ8IroxZrntXsjGaGPzkWLfI5dyAUjJPrdyxc7SBuPSriJeP9o_HtLOVwULRUMxiCtw/s320/unnamed-1.jpg" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><p>First day of school - 8th grade (Henry); 11th grade (triplets) in 2021 from the camp ground in the midst of our "life transition" (aka: mom's nervous breakdown and family relocation to Vermont; best decision EVER!!!)<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6cGhDegNv_5SfUOOXP4BJ4X2G2ElnbpcRKD4kKpBYn7in1L3nFPg5i5ow_RmNL8Jt-DwOTRxIME9UNlvNJh8bLmfLeIkylh4XSw4QS4Il90zyo7yobB3xBZN4g9HeYZ2bjQ1Rm5yi6EQYy4t2596WZoTyrv3Wyli678fUvDl5STs7NAAKw/s4032/IMG_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6cGhDegNv_5SfUOOXP4BJ4X2G2ElnbpcRKD4kKpBYn7in1L3nFPg5i5ow_RmNL8Jt-DwOTRxIME9UNlvNJh8bLmfLeIkylh4XSw4QS4Il90zyo7yobB3xBZN4g9HeYZ2bjQ1Rm5yi6EQYy4t2596WZoTyrv3Wyli678fUvDl5STs7NAAKw/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">First day of school - 9th grade (Henry); 12th grade (triplets) today ... from the front yard of our wonderful new home. Carolyn will laugh seeing that she is wearing the same shirt; and I'm sure she would like the record to reflect that Elizabeth is on a hill AND her tippy toes. Alas, at 5'7.5" the only person in the family Liz is taller than is me. (But, she is faster than all of us!!) <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklcLEQq6vjdeNvRirsuRVs6nZ7HrKDhcDJ70KqQqPa3eeGvKIWsOpBpHkzxwbTq8Bc76Eko3ES7aM7WTBi_kbahKTfcVeFDP5hI1bwntcqx2e9QtywnVW36q7GQeL6dtm-W3R6TDEuScTGGvYm7qwTKyq8QrCL_ovElX6SFOBlM9cSOPvmw/s4032/IMG_4544.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklcLEQq6vjdeNvRirsuRVs6nZ7HrKDhcDJ70KqQqPa3eeGvKIWsOpBpHkzxwbTq8Bc76Eko3ES7aM7WTBi_kbahKTfcVeFDP5hI1bwntcqx2e9QtywnVW36q7GQeL6dtm-W3R6TDEuScTGGvYm7qwTKyq8QrCL_ovElX6SFOBlM9cSOPvmw/s320/IMG_4544.JPG" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Loading in to the Big Green Machine ... Charlie's 2002 Toyota Tundra truck. So glad that we decided to keep this truck - it has been the perfect
'learn to drive' vehicle for the kids and with 4-wheel drive, is a great
asset for winters in northern Vermont. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUTJmkxVxHt3h5__Ycek_Q-a7NEUSynwaYc8CU_s-QEbW6oTiWythBb9wKNgPxkPLXWPGBjpUx3LUQuCvR7bwWKmlEgd-ZomEV8YADEiiGs7jP6cg_eG_5GJpl3OFshh5eT0ukquwhF97RszlRcuRjMndG9LJyInYeiajcR56pHD21ZoxgQ/s4032/IMG_4547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUTJmkxVxHt3h5__Ycek_Q-a7NEUSynwaYc8CU_s-QEbW6oTiWythBb9wKNgPxkPLXWPGBjpUx3LUQuCvR7bwWKmlEgd-ZomEV8YADEiiGs7jP6cg_eG_5GJpl3OFshh5eT0ukquwhF97RszlRcuRjMndG9LJyInYeiajcR56pHD21ZoxgQ/s320/IMG_4547.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We had
to scoop crab apples from the back so the kids could put in their
backpacks and not get them mushy. Ahhhh, this is the stuff of the sweetest memories! <br /></div></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-31153194032561306122022-06-26T13:54:00.003-05:002022-06-26T14:06:54.692-05:00pruning expectations and appreciating the blooms <p>Everyday, so many amazing things happen in life and I'm always taking a mental inventory, <b><i>"I must blog about that!" </i></b>But life just continues to go at such a warp speed, I feel like all I can do is just hang on and enjoy the ride ... while trying not to fall off the ride altogether. (Have I written that before? Probably. Not much has changed!!) </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkXMVcONT-2pvU71W_rkkH7BPuKSnlMrSfJBBsH6vZzn4JJaOt0wWdRz6NWZ9hzKwOafbU5e4sfu9SAQIwKE8iyTLMqH2Mn1xZfVqpgCwAaw4igKQ8VEMe4hmG6-cfdpumJfwUtnvfXDPMMMZvEPqPZ4m2DTjK68no11AbcdBfc2aGPscBw/s4032/IMG_3227.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkXMVcONT-2pvU71W_rkkH7BPuKSnlMrSfJBBsH6vZzn4JJaOt0wWdRz6NWZ9hzKwOafbU5e4sfu9SAQIwKE8iyTLMqH2Mn1xZfVqpgCwAaw4igKQ8VEMe4hmG6-cfdpumJfwUtnvfXDPMMMZvEPqPZ4m2DTjK68no11AbcdBfc2aGPscBw/s320/IMG_3227.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">Just a few minutes ago, I found myself outside, as I do at nearly every waking moment, working in the massive, hugely overgrown (albeit gorgeous) gardens at our new house and it struck me. </span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2le4kjt85MyLwXEN901OAWULj_iaL8p375w-hExn4LL16YBrLpu56JfANWmrmTc3i7GJPcJO5OGW_NA-LTnIj6HWuzpeClYhlfNVvPhNF3qIxlqUVh-6M5HnkM7G2xUoCs9VKoLuJ09q299XXJj-BgRUUZGzvsEyidA8FG63u1nuW05M13g/s4032/IMG_3332.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2le4kjt85MyLwXEN901OAWULj_iaL8p375w-hExn4LL16YBrLpu56JfANWmrmTc3i7GJPcJO5OGW_NA-LTnIj6HWuzpeClYhlfNVvPhNF3qIxlqUVh-6M5HnkM7G2xUoCs9VKoLuJ09q299XXJj-BgRUUZGzvsEyidA8FG63u1nuW05M13g/s320/IMG_3332.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p><i>"It's just a mirage, this idea that we can ever tame nature to do as we want ... it's not permanent. Work as we might, toil as we do to pull the weeds, edge the grass, hedge the shrubs, and prune the trees - the result is only temporary. It's fighting against the tide and NATURE WILL ULTIMATELY WIN." </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEEvma6y4qqca88Yij3Sz8Jq3XbgqOSUItai9182XlG8AuxqHjcgz7Il8j-o1-0e7OJgbm6g26ObDXOG5eIVRun7JF5ylY1NCf89N1K0ZmY3fwcjtl6gBI7vZOKcFd9k1TVsZHTBGh2pNvtjB2pOnvuQslZRzt_htRvxHJpN81GRwVre8Qw/s4032/IMG_3277.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEEvma6y4qqca88Yij3Sz8Jq3XbgqOSUItai9182XlG8AuxqHjcgz7Il8j-o1-0e7OJgbm6g26ObDXOG5eIVRun7JF5ylY1NCf89N1K0ZmY3fwcjtl6gBI7vZOKcFd9k1TVsZHTBGh2pNvtjB2pOnvuQslZRzt_htRvxHJpN81GRwVre8Qw/s320/IMG_3277.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>Then I had this thought, immediately on the heels of that brilliance. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZGZt6VFmpiVFRwVcw_JUL4DUlPNZCB-0KcETn-cfzAPs1yeTP8nvu9r7d3nFdmYL7przZMHnWjrH8YV6lC3UgloifVvHazJ8c6nfpST48gS0Lmv9rAMrFGneIlnpDexaMWonwHJ7N2ciWnoulihyhrabtaHaFLw6QPmF4E4QqoZkyStdTA/s4032/IMG_3330.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZGZt6VFmpiVFRwVcw_JUL4DUlPNZCB-0KcETn-cfzAPs1yeTP8nvu9r7d3nFdmYL7przZMHnWjrH8YV6lC3UgloifVvHazJ8c6nfpST48gS0Lmv9rAMrFGneIlnpDexaMWonwHJ7N2ciWnoulihyhrabtaHaFLw6QPmF4E4QqoZkyStdTA/s320/IMG_3330.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p><i>"Tending a garden is a lot like raising children. You sow the seeds and water them and nurture them and pour a small fortune in to their growth and development, and work your body to exhaustion to maintain them, and you think that as they mature, you have a very good idea of what and who they will be. But then they bloom and what you THOUGHT would be an orange flower, is yellow; and the green is blue, and the pink is white. The vine that you thought would go up, goes across, and in the middle of an area you </i><i>thought was full of weeds - sprouts sunflowers." </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaifPAkC2J4W00GcxBSDR5mLOwN4-FVSgxW-Z1DKV3-ZIYq1xgwZt0Bcqf3h2_3_oeaj_vkJcFMa1vk5NS45yuEJRAdvKBtRIID_dmMBjwqDoXRhYsovAnUQ2BLeCQtEfX3BMilDX2pAY8rVg42IB2cW_YUAdnMujuvP_qb1dGemwhPendgw/s4032/IMG_3335.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaifPAkC2J4W00GcxBSDR5mLOwN4-FVSgxW-Z1DKV3-ZIYq1xgwZt0Bcqf3h2_3_oeaj_vkJcFMa1vk5NS45yuEJRAdvKBtRIID_dmMBjwqDoXRhYsovAnUQ2BLeCQtEfX3BMilDX2pAY8rVg42IB2cW_YUAdnMujuvP_qb1dGemwhPendgw/s320/IMG_3335.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>Life is just one huge, beautiful surprise. </p><p>It feels like we're even more aware of that phenomenon, now that we're living in a totally new environment in northern Vermont, with four kids who are on the brink of adulthood. I've told my mom that spring in this part of the country is violently natural and unlike anything I've ever experienced (so, too, are 17-year olds!). We moved in to this house in the latter part of fall when everything was dormant. Winter was magical - everything coated in snow, so we had no idea what was in store. On April 18th we had a huge snowstorm with nearly two-feet of snow. I cannot recall having snow on my birthday - until this year. <b><i>It was wonderful. </i></b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GfpEts4fp4Rs8b5szgpsZA9QVl6O2xUUqSOS_w4thj5nGPUxpY_1fAanLzWpitWwgrPMXhERyHvFSfvTClu7c5HYl3mD8ZVgQHUB0g-RLIimQDOUmT1MiSQIiBjtDpiOZw_0C0M2PIOO3my1P_Sva64Y9PThRnTQPSA3Yyc4IxDUPGBG6A/s4032/IMG_3388.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GfpEts4fp4Rs8b5szgpsZA9QVl6O2xUUqSOS_w4thj5nGPUxpY_1fAanLzWpitWwgrPMXhERyHvFSfvTClu7c5HYl3mD8ZVgQHUB0g-RLIimQDOUmT1MiSQIiBjtDpiOZw_0C0M2PIOO3my1P_Sva64Y9PThRnTQPSA3Yyc4IxDUPGBG6A/s320/IMG_3388.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>By early May, the yard started to wake up. By early June, it was a literal jungle out there. For the past six weeks, we've had landscaping crews AND a gardener coming by several times a week and even the professionals were drowning in this yard. They clear out one area, and two weeks later, it's grown over again. We have a team of arborists coming in next month to take down several huge trees and do some of the cleanup work that we lack the yellow iron to tackle. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4txJdYLL1RTMrYzuHeSAIxz1BwfTbSh_eudlHECPmgV1FpZk14LPBmh914CeyoQoz5naUpOqh8JlWibxVAJFahYCvWqDFPVGouvzRfjRbD2ROgatcHXcjuIUVNmmxUVlwX13f1YS1UuDedv4FhIUmXnOvRB0prP8W-gux4YT_KjHV1y1qA/s4032/IMG_3383.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4txJdYLL1RTMrYzuHeSAIxz1BwfTbSh_eudlHECPmgV1FpZk14LPBmh914CeyoQoz5naUpOqh8JlWibxVAJFahYCvWqDFPVGouvzRfjRbD2ROgatcHXcjuIUVNmmxUVlwX13f1YS1UuDedv4FhIUmXnOvRB0prP8W-gux4YT_KjHV1y1qA/s320/IMG_3383.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>During this time, I've realized that you can tell a lot about a person's personality by the way they are in the garden. Charlie skips outside every morning with his watering can, to give a drink to all the vegetables he has grown from seeds. He focuses on one thing at a time - in this moment, he's dealing with his cucumbers; when that is done, he'll shift focus to pruning the hundreds of peonies. His energy isn't deterred by the flowering sumac that has summited a fence and is now growing across our lawn faster than tidewaters during a full moon in the Bay of Fundy. </p><p>Likewise, he does not appear distracted by the sometimes crazy teenagers and their wild mood and attitude fluctuations. He just smiles and keeps doing whatever it is that needs doing: Cooking dinner, washing dishes, folding laundry. I cannot comprehend how he maintains his focus, it's like he has on <b>blinders</b> to the natural insanity around us. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhB1MmekdsiOsslHFprM_hW2Ae63ccWIi326PGoyAeY7kKn6PcR7p9rHmSGHHXRcsAOTrYoGf_TlSyvG4qshag9YVPn1DvoVwxVTq5TeDQoo9WP_0oem2GNt7tTgAmYnYiBASQtcTDZb5kAXUR1k5Pi-Zse7hZ1xW6mGB3Y3sXoJYHLwB9Mg/s4032/IMG_3269.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhB1MmekdsiOsslHFprM_hW2Ae63ccWIi326PGoyAeY7kKn6PcR7p9rHmSGHHXRcsAOTrYoGf_TlSyvG4qshag9YVPn1DvoVwxVTq5TeDQoo9WP_0oem2GNt7tTgAmYnYiBASQtcTDZb5kAXUR1k5Pi-Zse7hZ1xW6mGB3Y3sXoJYHLwB9Mg/s320/IMG_3269.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>Meanwhile, I go outside to weed the Lily of the Valleys on the north side of the house, and go to the tool shed to grab a spade. On my way, I am distracted by the hydrangeas on the east side of the house that needs pruning. When I get to the shed, instead of a spade, I grab the saw, but as I'm walking back - I stop to cut the lilacs blocking the path. Here I remain for a whole 15 minutes, before I realize I need heavier machinery to remove some of the dead limbs. With a sigh of resignation, I survey the yard, and spot the maple seedlings sprouting up in the violets; soon I'm knee deep in the violet beds yanking maples by the handful. And so it goes, everyday. Surely progress is being made, no one has really touched these grounds for several years; but it's just hard to see it - when you're in it. </p><p>Likewise, as I was helping our girls this week pack for a three week trip, including two-weeks backpacking in New Mexico ... I was completely derailed when I opened their sock drawer and found the home to nearly all the single socks that have been accumulating in our laundry room. Down the rabbit hole I went, and started opening all the other drawers, closets, not just in the girls rooms but in the boys rooms, too. Over the next three hours, I generated no less than four bags of donations for Goodwill and rematched nearly every one of our socks. How did this happen?! </p><p>If you give a mouse a cookie? If you give me <b style="font-style: italic;">any </b>task it would seem. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlDeIMDtolKKlUvdTl3y9VoesUHwgxwR5rLcoFaDVe1ZnjtEYVcE5xZw-syDpFrI4PbxUhcezdh74trdXUtAeawad8lnPw5OmWDGD9Rdkx2-Odl4_mg6dVJ1m60bZrfCwGpxB0Lq93zBZGYMkx4RfOXQKhbIUYSrlQNrGO_njFUuE8t-sLw/s4032/IMG_3284.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlDeIMDtolKKlUvdTl3y9VoesUHwgxwR5rLcoFaDVe1ZnjtEYVcE5xZw-syDpFrI4PbxUhcezdh74trdXUtAeawad8lnPw5OmWDGD9Rdkx2-Odl4_mg6dVJ1m60bZrfCwGpxB0Lq93zBZGYMkx4RfOXQKhbIUYSrlQNrGO_njFUuE8t-sLw/s320/IMG_3284.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>For someone like me who craves a degree of control in my life, and obviously has a serious case of ADD, I'm pretty tired. It's taken me 51 years, but I'm finally appreciating that I could work all day and never get everything done so there's no point in working to exhaustion. </p><p>You've got to just enjoy what you CAN DO, and try to find the beauty in what might seem like NATURE GONE WILD. Otherwise, you will end up drained, perpetually dehydrated, sunburned, cranky, and achy. Our gardener, Ann, told me earlier this season that some of the weeds, including Blue Wood Aster, and even dandelions, are especially beautiful. </p><p>Just look for and enjoy the colors; they're everywhere. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg594QVfjtgG5e3YDG5T9MO0tfSpNSlnkIZVcJw5cr8TkOovSmlGo2S3kVdQnXqxZrZAsA-YRBPLXjxoXJ6UoEBcjjWTFTrzNogz_n2pVYJv8iVfDu8ea_6KeH0eRtcNjuw-FHvdzaTmy6ZMVeKAMWneotdiM8NxGEHtT6bVkKLuI4QFHufKg/s4032/IMG_3333.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg594QVfjtgG5e3YDG5T9MO0tfSpNSlnkIZVcJw5cr8TkOovSmlGo2S3kVdQnXqxZrZAsA-YRBPLXjxoXJ6UoEBcjjWTFTrzNogz_n2pVYJv8iVfDu8ea_6KeH0eRtcNjuw-FHvdzaTmy6ZMVeKAMWneotdiM8NxGEHtT6bVkKLuI4QFHufKg/s320/IMG_3333.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>Funny enough, it was today, when I was finally back again, weeding the Lily of the Valleys, I had these revelations and after a whole 10 minutes, decided to come inside, have a drink of water, and take a break. Now I'm enjoying a Haagen Daz bar and updating my blog for the first time in four months. Charlie saw I was in the house eating an ice cream and has come to join me. This is true romance. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiZjaRrgsOS1QBSRDH9wO7v3Rz2i54wDmkwu3DaOPPFGCGeevUo6CghPJPvzAjpuhYToaTc2RZeibW2XMCGJyqFTBETRaOBL25YI0CiMVn_bfrevOznKFTF8xMBFcRWpFnJ2LiO3neAI3pl_pEZGsrt_samOzIUvf6JRH_gb3bNtAWPYU8A/s4032/IMG_3543.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwiZjaRrgsOS1QBSRDH9wO7v3Rz2i54wDmkwu3DaOPPFGCGeevUo6CghPJPvzAjpuhYToaTc2RZeibW2XMCGJyqFTBETRaOBL25YI0CiMVn_bfrevOznKFTF8xMBFcRWpFnJ2LiO3neAI3pl_pEZGsrt_samOzIUvf6JRH_gb3bNtAWPYU8A/s320/IMG_3543.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>ADD for the win. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-998463213048034092022-02-04T15:52:00.002-06:002022-02-04T15:54:52.127-06:0024" on 2-4<p>Charlie set up a simple system to capture the snowfall total with the most recent <a href="https://vermontbiz.com/news/2022/february/01/major-winter-storm-set-bury-midwest-snow-heading-toward-vermont" target="_blank">winter storm, Landon</a>. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEib-kLYgaeFDV-5Ahlor2Lwis6BVNHy7MSwF9t-UkBrlKtiVDmjey56d6-azpml0TVoCAf8tfeQ3G9SfOZ6jJL980NbtkK0L9B9CaE7sPXWNByoQagc1WRgJyVx54OtzpNEmXwvtezspe19eluQBqsOW_vK0PAtEwaYp4iPSQT5UmZOrCLbrg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEib-kLYgaeFDV-5Ahlor2Lwis6BVNHy7MSwF9t-UkBrlKtiVDmjey56d6-azpml0TVoCAf8tfeQ3G9SfOZ6jJL980NbtkK0L9B9CaE7sPXWNByoQagc1WRgJyVx54OtzpNEmXwvtezspe19eluQBqsOW_vK0PAtEwaYp4iPSQT5UmZOrCLbrg=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>Unlike other areas where we've lived and would always feel like we have been <a href="https://theamazingtrips.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-i-really-want-is-to-live-in-snow.html" target="_blank">ROBBED</a> by snow, Vermont has thus far, happily failed to disappoint with the amount of beautiful, glorious snow we actually receive. Forecast will project 1-3" and we'll have 6". Forecast will project 6" and we'll have 12". With this storm, we were expecting 12" ... but we've received 21" already, and expect that we'll receive several inches more before this storm passes through, later tonight. I'm banking on at least 24 on 2-4! </p><p>The joy of going to sleep while it's snowing and knowing that it isn't going to taper off overnight and the kids will all be home the next day because school was canceled? <b>Few things evoke such unbridled JOY in my heart! </b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhkA66oyvInFfwSCmXA3gpLCiybhOZlKRcTAyhXG7KLuNNgjyUK3q7g68-SZRIN8At_6AS9vWWXZs-yyoL2vv_UTe4GcfsG_imWUodLwbkjF8MuUk63cOA1S4wM2K98P_Y-eWPZG9A95gcDuUXKQSCBYsBvSU6STa23zsjRp2trxyr8F9Ahw=s1399" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1399" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjhkA66oyvInFfwSCmXA3gpLCiybhOZlKRcTAyhXG7KLuNNgjyUK3q7g68-SZRIN8At_6AS9vWWXZs-yyoL2vv_UTe4GcfsG_imWUodLwbkjF8MuUk63cOA1S4wM2K98P_Y-eWPZG9A95gcDuUXKQSCBYsBvSU6STa23zsjRp2trxyr8F9Ahw=s320" width="220" /></a></p><p>Throughout today, the kids have been responding to calls from a few of our neighbors - and are trying to help them shovel out paths for them to take their dogs for a walk. They just headed out, again, to help an elderly neighbor down the street with a bad back, clear around his car. I don't know what's better - living in an area where we are surrounded by so much natural beauty, or being in a situation where we are able to lend tangible and necessary support to those who really need it. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhj740YzI4r6eA3Zvj9EHcefsHYzIwhstbxhl5pjOascQCB1FsY1Yf0jUwrRF9uMi5iuAIBPMNg9gPPB7r2CmLxivnQpHXBBAyUqv6q4odGiYNAnvT6qceSjX84Obg7LlF1b4iGJp8V1_1B-yNC1BIDzynDxe0Hf6SSqmvEiw5P6MwpMzJVwg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhj740YzI4r6eA3Zvj9EHcefsHYzIwhstbxhl5pjOascQCB1FsY1Yf0jUwrRF9uMi5iuAIBPMNg9gPPB7r2CmLxivnQpHXBBAyUqv6q4odGiYNAnvT6qceSjX84Obg7LlF1b4iGJp8V1_1B-yNC1BIDzynDxe0Hf6SSqmvEiw5P6MwpMzJVwg=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>It's just so awesome and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, we couldn't be happier. Elizabeth @ 10:00 this morning. We've had at least another 8" since then! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjitv6iZYvelMK-XAKTbsButshhaglztGIn2rosqNKLwgXtQUFJRULrxN4-tdRx3UQbW8a6kLn7Dg7wXZbX2HHQn6i4-1Rg5nSnnzbK3LR4kzDz9v6QMQ617UNBfY90psZz5Loxm8TxIBT5g-FjMdb5CLXhSYp2L3kiLtnX4fJesBGdAkldDQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjitv6iZYvelMK-XAKTbsButshhaglztGIn2rosqNKLwgXtQUFJRULrxN4-tdRx3UQbW8a6kLn7Dg7wXZbX2HHQn6i4-1Rg5nSnnzbK3LR4kzDz9v6QMQ617UNBfY90psZz5Loxm8TxIBT5g-FjMdb5CLXhSYp2L3kiLtnX4fJesBGdAkldDQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Charlie and I recently filled up all the bird feeders around our house, and were shocked to see so many birds descend on the yard. On average, for the past couple of weeks, I've been filling up the bird feeders at least 3X a week; although with this snowstorm, I think they're especially famished and have cleared out one of the feeders <i>completely</i> today. They must be teenagers! <div><br /></div><div>Here I was thinking they were all in Florida for the winter? <div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzPMwDctFRX4fQg3J9BXlPBHY6lO2HBLHmN233buZaxe59-wE0K4znewn2LNpq5U_KIYbCBeal1x5I0fYz3iuyX6qrLGYp9XW0grUbeq-zX42ZTYC6-RU44olyQ-5UB5skvRmBV6ObDKM_YxJdGfE1hBLRKPpWAmoqdh-Js0VHuEiLS6gnrQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzPMwDctFRX4fQg3J9BXlPBHY6lO2HBLHmN233buZaxe59-wE0K4znewn2LNpq5U_KIYbCBeal1x5I0fYz3iuyX6qrLGYp9XW0grUbeq-zX42ZTYC6-RU44olyQ-5UB5skvRmBV6ObDKM_YxJdGfE1hBLRKPpWAmoqdh-Js0VHuEiLS6gnrQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Weather forecast from just a few minutes ago ... we're still in the storm: <i>let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! </i><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_2HN03Le5vS-Zx8Ne8nSKFcwIXvL8uLDBbH04mxGpGNqZHeRFVKCDQ4bSKkqK-DDez0W9zl0FSKNTqRuXPJHPTq7vdr46LN3G_khopSePsokp6eg_ykRinXwK10XHBMJRAiA8XIXdW3SyIKGY1jd5GPvJv_YQuK7_5t8CV6aVY26qMygBJw=s1431" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1431" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_2HN03Le5vS-Zx8Ne8nSKFcwIXvL8uLDBbH04mxGpGNqZHeRFVKCDQ4bSKkqK-DDez0W9zl0FSKNTqRuXPJHPTq7vdr46LN3G_khopSePsokp6eg_ykRinXwK10XHBMJRAiA8XIXdW3SyIKGY1jd5GPvJv_YQuK7_5t8CV6aVY26qMygBJw=s320" width="215" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Two kids are now back home; lighting a fire with flint and steel; we've got hot chocolate on the stove; cookies in the oven ... homemade pizza tonight. I keep beating Charlie in backgammon and Connect Four. My wish to live in a snow globe has finally come true. AND THE WINTER OLYMPICS START TONIGHT! </div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b><i>What an absolutely perfect day! </i></b></div></div></div></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-50743960728882831242022-01-26T08:24:00.006-06:002022-01-26T10:53:50.196-06:006 months = 184 days <p>It has been six months, today, that our family was on the camping trip in Burlington, Vermont when I had what I thought would be a non-eventful call with my prior manager, Kurt, and new manager, Jeff. The title of the meeting that they had set up the prior week, was benignly dubbed "Assessment Results." I had no idea what exactly that meant ... but after 20 years with the company, I had participated in and led many assessments, so naively figured this Monday morning call would be no different. </p><p>When I logged on to the 10:00 Zoom call from Quarantinny, everyone was outside - with the exception of Carolyn, who was sitting across the table from me, working on her math. In my typical self, I was happy and shared news about the beautiful place we were visiting - how we were taking the kids to tour UVM later that day - how we would be leaving and driving back to Texas, by way of Niagara Falls, either that afternoon or tomorrow morning, because the kids started school in less than two weeks. </p><p>It immediately struck me how solemn they were on the the call. These are people I talk to every single week and have known for years. And yet, in extremely atypical fashion, there was no friendly banter, not even a smile. Kurt took a deep breath and launched in to a message that within a matter of seconds, would alter our course in life, forever. Despite what had been my best technical performance year, and with no prior notice or any warning signs that things were amiss, for the first time ever, I had been placed in the bottom rank group because I purportedly put too much "pressure" on others, and my career with the company was suddenly in jeopardy. </p><p><i>Just like that it happened. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6sVYnEVKVPQI1_VO-Ekpo5YnF0fIJqrcvWEOJNwOMXzIKUMYvIs6s6SzEu8msNs9kUS2SnTZOJx1PUJt5u2_iYXZL3lNUjer0DibVeYCWeAiKrAJi67TAN2RBmwFzyoFtfyp9otHJbKdrFCagVJz_6nyqsePX6tmsUUbSIKnRzZ2YyhRLgw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6sVYnEVKVPQI1_VO-Ekpo5YnF0fIJqrcvWEOJNwOMXzIKUMYvIs6s6SzEu8msNs9kUS2SnTZOJx1PUJt5u2_iYXZL3lNUjer0DibVeYCWeAiKrAJi67TAN2RBmwFzyoFtfyp9otHJbKdrFCagVJz_6nyqsePX6tmsUUbSIKnRzZ2YyhRLgw=s320" width="320" /></a> <br /></p><p>I've written before about what transpired next, following the most intense professional gut punch I've ever received in my life. Turning my camera and microphone off until I could find my breath again, while the managers asked if I was still there or had been disconnected from the call. The feeling of disbelief, shame, and extreme fury that settled over me in one moment; was followed by extreme clarity that washed over me next, when I instantly recognized that the path forward, albeit a tough one, was crystal clear. Carolyn stared at me with a look of concern as I absolutely <i><b>lambasted</b></i> management for tolerating proverbially can-kicking. I put pressure on others because I am a doer ... <i>I actually get things done and push others to deliver</i>. </p><p>How else does one function with four children born in 2.5 years? <br /></p><p>Despite the option to remain and attempt to "redeem" myself, before the call ended, I had silently concluded to myself that I would take the severance and resign from the company. So many thoughts flooded my brain ... first and foremost, our family - and the children who were starting their critical junior year of high school. In not too far of a second spot, the realization that all of my efforts and extremely hard work were not valued. <br /></p><p>No. None of this would work for my family. <br /></p><p>No. None of this would work for me; I deserve so much better. </p><p>By the time I got off the phone and alerted the family, I was feeling resolute and hoped that they would agree with my decision. But the wave of transparency and clarity about making the decision, was quickly replaced by the most intense anxiety and anguish that I've ever experienced for the next SEVERAL months. One moment you're surfing the wave of life and feeling like you're on top of the world, safely protected in God's hands ... and the next minute, you're thrown to the bottom of the ocean and relentlessly <b>pounded </b>by the surf. Intense currents whip you about, sand and shells blast your face and body, you can't breathe - you can't see - you fear for your life and those that you love, as your surf board knocks you in the head, and a jelly fish stings you for good measure. You arise to the surface, tangled in kelp, only to realize that your bathing suit is gone. Snagged on coral that ripped your flesh, made you bleed, and Great White sharks are now on their way to eat you whole. </p><p>We'd have to find a place to settle down. Vermont? South Carolina? California? Colorado? Wisconsin? WHERE TO WE WANT TO BE?? While this sounds like a dreamy thought to consider - when you have but a moment to make the decision that will impact where your children go to school, graduate, potentially start college and launch their adult lives... it is paralyzing. <br /></p><p>We looked around - liked what we saw - did some quick calculations - and decided we'd stay <i>right there</i> in Burlington. I'm outwardly smiling in this photo, but <b>crippled</b> inside. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdjinkuBp-c22tW9_pJwruJMu1lGVs3_OLdj0VCszjK9VJA8OiI_5BGcRuYewcGfStM4ztEt3WEuKYZg7tn4sm9Mlpa2kq_Fc8DqDJI2aXeArNvjMTNdsCHI2cXUtlKwS7UUpYQw5YHXS-ntXg-SCfZQibpgRfA_W6Z9OIWdB2Yrlx3bmjFw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdjinkuBp-c22tW9_pJwruJMu1lGVs3_OLdj0VCszjK9VJA8OiI_5BGcRuYewcGfStM4ztEt3WEuKYZg7tn4sm9Mlpa2kq_Fc8DqDJI2aXeArNvjMTNdsCHI2cXUtlKwS7UUpYQw5YHXS-ntXg-SCfZQibpgRfA_W6Z9OIWdB2Yrlx3bmjFw=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>For the sake of brevity and to not regurgitate everything I've written about over the past six months, here's a punch list of what has actually transpired the past 184 days: <br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>We found a rental house and signed a lease within three days. <br /></li><li>We hired our dear friend, Claire, to list our house within four days. <br /></li><li>We found an orthodontist, church, and the first of what would be three scout troops within five days.</li><li>We registered the children in a new school in Vermont within a week; the same week - Elizabeth went to a XC running camp with her new team. </li><li>I posted on Facebook that we'd moved to Burlington and several of my ExxonMobil colleagues, including many who expected to see me back in Texas, commented "WHAT?" </li><li>We celebrated our 27 year wedding anniversary and I gave ABUNDANT thanks for the man I'd married who never wavered in his commitment (okay, only twice) to see this thing through. </li></ul><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipvMavJv3mCIaz-dv9E0Op1-vYKoiMK8oi4_arNTZTyjYQLmhH2ArBUgzpRMUp3bVe2x8lcXfm37OSkNxltADCJIx5fRWi1P86rkD0_kq1ncqFltj6rDy-HUh6yKh2GUSuz_hnmrrIhHnLI9-K_MvRO_Pwg2osTKrocXNt1aoRVYMCoNd8vQ=s3024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipvMavJv3mCIaz-dv9E0Op1-vYKoiMK8oi4_arNTZTyjYQLmhH2ArBUgzpRMUp3bVe2x8lcXfm37OSkNxltADCJIx5fRWi1P86rkD0_kq1ncqFltj6rDy-HUh6yKh2GUSuz_hnmrrIhHnLI9-K_MvRO_Pwg2osTKrocXNt1aoRVYMCoNd8vQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div></div><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I resigned from a job that I had treasured and thought was the pinnacle of my professional career.</li><li>I updated my resume for the first time in 25 years. (It was really hard!) <br /></li><li>Charlie took the first of what would be three trips to Texas to coordinate our move to Vermont. </li><li>The children started their school year from a campground / tent the third week of August. <br /></li><li>Carolyn decided that this new environment was the perfect place for her introverted self to bloom, so she ran for student council ... and won; two weeks after school started. <br /></li><li>William and Henry started rock climbing. </li><li>Elizabeth excelled in cross country and would have gone to the state championships, if not for a broken foot. </li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP5JHZqxTUvafSvlWTj9PXZYJsI-O3wJ9REGcaHnqAEKWF8QwIUMB5Vn2oHpjD1ckUi7P44k52IOlax5bl8hWv9gUYE2pr-ztGN93i-tWcKn5RBsvpWc53XUkQgR0mk-XRo8-JuNUpwrP37dKw1cI9dfb-vdrQ4W0klOMcdhtOrFCSOLgJyA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiP5JHZqxTUvafSvlWTj9PXZYJsI-O3wJ9REGcaHnqAEKWF8QwIUMB5Vn2oHpjD1ckUi7P44k52IOlax5bl8hWv9gUYE2pr-ztGN93i-tWcKn5RBsvpWc53XUkQgR0mk-XRo8-JuNUpwrP37dKw1cI9dfb-vdrQ4W0klOMcdhtOrFCSOLgJyA=s320" width="320" /></a> <br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Carolyn found a rowing club and got out on the water with a group of elite coaches. <br /></li><li>After camping for more than 13 weeks, we moved in to a rental house in the middle of September, and slept on the floor in sleeping bags for another eight weeks until our belongings arrived. </li><li>William and Elizabeth earned their Eagle Scouts. </li><li>We recognized who our true friends are in life - those that showed up and consistently supported us with their phone calls and prayers; and we met so many wonderful new friends along the way. <br /></li><li>William and Elizabeth applied for, interviewed, and got their first (totally awesome) jobs.</li><li>We opened Roth's for the kids because the importance of saving early, cannot be overstated. <br /></li><li>We sold our Texas house. <br /></li><li>Despite an insane real estate market with virtually zero inventory, we found what would turn out to be the absolutely perfect home with gorgeous gardens for our family; made an offer and moved in the week before Thanksgiving; unpacking the box with the turkey baster in the nick of time. </li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeMJy81mZof2KzRSAhez3UsLJgkWja0qOlgUIFf7D-r1IDDfxmas3jwDCQv71rGVIV_4RI69QKziECRlFSbAsue0rGoGY0wdp0EjcxFz_KiMr4HWD-ztWmi3uwoxjqsZ2lWGMMtNH9Qsl-MnLdF-Jbi1ABg9HWPbe2QAz337A3IkJl4jsTFg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeMJy81mZof2KzRSAhez3UsLJgkWja0qOlgUIFf7D-r1IDDfxmas3jwDCQv71rGVIV_4RI69QKziECRlFSbAsue0rGoGY0wdp0EjcxFz_KiMr4HWD-ztWmi3uwoxjqsZ2lWGMMtNH9Qsl-MnLdF-Jbi1ABg9HWPbe2QAz337A3IkJl4jsTFg=s320" width="240" /></a> <br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>We thankfully were able to get out of our one-year lease on the rental after only 2.5 months. </li><li>William gave a
presentation to his school on how we arrived in Vermont, how he knows
something big is about to happen when he finds me with my Bible first
thing in the morning, and why I'm his role model about working hard and living life to
the fullest. </li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYMxpMgf91PNJ9WMsCADmOSycZfvAp6VZyep_nysmFkfXUKXAQg6F5pXxMqzSyPQ3k_b-1nZ5h96h7zNWYYW-86yZc37KFIwydUtUR2WCfFYQBiCtpHvutGqvDGZM4R1E2yFxCEvF0u_b31O6rjuh7zO_999gRCxb6UBoGQMgW7ivi_0VyJA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYMxpMgf91PNJ9WMsCADmOSycZfvAp6VZyep_nysmFkfXUKXAQg6F5pXxMqzSyPQ3k_b-1nZ5h96h7zNWYYW-86yZc37KFIwydUtUR2WCfFYQBiCtpHvutGqvDGZM4R1E2yFxCEvF0u_b31O6rjuh7zO_999gRCxb6UBoGQMgW7ivi_0VyJA=s320" width="240" /></a></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I was recruited by a few companies that I'd worked with during my time at ExxonMobil, and gratefully accepted an offer to work 30 hours a week (just enough to secure benefits!) from a cozy home office in Vermont, with a <i>brilliant</i> group of industry-leading scientists that are located out of Boston. </li><li>We go skiing at least 2-3 times a week at local mountains: William and Carolyn are on the high school alpine ski team; Elizabeth and Henry are snowboarding. </li><li>Elizabeth and Carolyn are actively participating in indoor track and field events, and both girls are currently ranked in the top ten for several state events.</li><li>William and Henry are both taking French and will be our guides on an upcoming trip to Montreal; William is also in his third year of German and is excitedly planning to be an exchange student to Berlin in the spring of 2023. <br /></li><li>We are working with the local rotary club to start a new girls BSA troop in the area. </li><li>Carolyn additionally joined the school choir and landed a part in a school production. <br /></li><li>We are looking at multiple universities throughout the northeast and Canada. <br /></li><li>Despite some academic struggles in Texas, all four kids are thriving in their new school - have made wonderful friends - are receiving great grades - and are happier than I imagined possible seeing as they all have to share a bathroom. (Beats a tent, they say!) </li><li>Because of the relatively close proximity, my sister, Beth, drove up from Massachusetts for a visit; and we have friends from Texas lined up to come visit us and go skiing for the next several months. </li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUkWL-blk5sT2sZyQZu0CeKoVw7g1kVI2CcjhvlHuqz-X_q-wW5zT2yUH2ad9C6MspchSWdIoYOxpvuG9GbH3NgKhgQU8eN4cTMEpAr2D1F9ZL7cWXRpdhEe0DKSFc7tjnoiS1zDEzKqHm_BsJ7NveD1lBGnADG6EfTVT9Nqz9P9fkRr3bxg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiUkWL-blk5sT2sZyQZu0CeKoVw7g1kVI2CcjhvlHuqz-X_q-wW5zT2yUH2ad9C6MspchSWdIoYOxpvuG9GbH3NgKhgQU8eN4cTMEpAr2D1F9ZL7cWXRpdhEe0DKSFc7tjnoiS1zDEzKqHm_BsJ7NveD1lBGnADG6EfTVT9Nqz9P9fkRr3bxg=s320" width="240" /></a> <br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Henry and Carolyn are working with a nearby horticulture group to complete their Eagle Scout projects, so we may have <i>four</i> Court of Honors this year. </li><li>We were introduced to a State Senator and she has asked if we would like to visit the capital in Montpelier to have our Eagle Scouts recognized by the Vermont Congress. <br /></li><li>Charlie's business has expanded from clients in California, to clients also in Nevada. Yay! <br /></li><li>Ollie frolics in the snow, never wants to come inside, and I think might be part polar bear. </li></ul><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0Gisis8qPMlO4Wxo6DHXY3i-Csb680G2oRj9-dYB_BsomsWq4s1Lza9iYOxcbGAssPNbEd5tLjYeCI0I8phHGXBlLFgsjGFCEARKiGeLifOtFuKEGi4DXbfNVmP4UYK1gmM9kCzY9knGnwnFgpBbfxLf4DIAqQJ-od2xDNBvV9hnJ6FyAeA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0Gisis8qPMlO4Wxo6DHXY3i-Csb680G2oRj9-dYB_BsomsWq4s1Lza9iYOxcbGAssPNbEd5tLjYeCI0I8phHGXBlLFgsjGFCEARKiGeLifOtFuKEGi4DXbfNVmP4UYK1gmM9kCzY9knGnwnFgpBbfxLf4DIAqQJ-od2xDNBvV9hnJ6FyAeA=s320" width="320" /></a> <br /></p><p>When this course was set in motion, I couldn't help but think "What a
great teaching moment this will be for the kids!" Specifically, the
importance of having a good education and work experience so
that you are employable,
the savings / financial security to launch this kind of life change; and
the ability to walk away from anything ... <i>at any time</i> ... if
you feel that by staying it will cause you or those you love, harm.
This transition has been extremely transformative for our family to
experience, first hand. <br /></p><p>But it was EXTREMELY challenging. In September, I wrote a blog post wherein <a href="https://theamazingtrips.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-security-breach.html" target="_blank">I begged that God <i>please</i> do us a solid</a>. In that post, I wrote, </p><p><i></i></p><blockquote><i>"[This] will hopefully be something I look back on one day soon and say,
"Yep, that was a really rough time, but wow - this grind was worth it,
thank you GOD." </i></blockquote>This has been a <b>really</b> tough grind, there have been so many obstacles and moments that in normal times, would be a disturbance, but in my raw state - were debilitating. When the first contract on the house in Texas fell through, I couldn't eat for three days. When there was a gun scare at the children's school, I couldn't sleep for a week. I worried incessantly about money and benefits, and would find myself in a doo-loop second guessing our decision - unable to keep my eyes fixed on the horizon; worried instead about the terrifying black diamond in front of me.<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjx1WStSy_2RbLOCRgfsZvQfhrxRyMXjFJ0zxevNtcu0lJmJVVVK_eXwlTMafL0wH-rSGnCSwJIPoKNtu_6TSWz2nAKwaU7KBi1C0utHrkgfe1xpuuFRmlLr4DoS_lTMe7xd8zfZqTOeYIrEvdHZHil_080RfF7JHQbGRwVH_RLtX4uxNlwrA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjx1WStSy_2RbLOCRgfsZvQfhrxRyMXjFJ0zxevNtcu0lJmJVVVK_eXwlTMafL0wH-rSGnCSwJIPoKNtu_6TSWz2nAKwaU7KBi1C0utHrkgfe1xpuuFRmlLr4DoS_lTMe7xd8zfZqTOeYIrEvdHZHil_080RfF7JHQbGRwVH_RLtX4uxNlwrA=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p></p>It has made me keenly aware of what is important: Charlie and the kids are my rock and inspiration. So, too, is my faith that would propel me forward every day believing that indeed, the universe is unfolding as it should and God's fingerprints have been all over this move ... <i>especially</i> when I take the time to reflect and give thanks. It's safe to say, from this vantage point, our prayers have innumerably been answered and I can look back and say, YES, the grind was most definitely worth it ... <b>Thank you, GOD</b>.<b> </b> <p>Life is so beautiful and so good, if you have the <u>clarity</u> to know what you want; the <u>courage</u> to listen to your heart; the <u>endurance</u> to work hard; the <u>patience</u> to take it one step at a time; and the <u>support</u> of your tribe. Also, don't forget to <u>keep faith</u>, <u>count your blessings</u>, and <u>smile</u>. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh40d-_Ht-1a2rjqLn80CvN7vQ2A1Vv0BoKeQYk5O3CigGWO88xsKFxZeDzaBJc1tM79xUj2lbSL3HR1mSl_lSrY6aLMHZonhTPDx1JYXwkCr4wuuQ6HHD0iG0gQbMlzKA3-SSPs0IeipifoBWUWCt39I-MKaRSel5CZ4H4q44Lvhag8oq90g=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh40d-_Ht-1a2rjqLn80CvN7vQ2A1Vv0BoKeQYk5O3CigGWO88xsKFxZeDzaBJc1tM79xUj2lbSL3HR1mSl_lSrY6aLMHZonhTPDx1JYXwkCr4wuuQ6HHD0iG0gQbMlzKA3-SSPs0IeipifoBWUWCt39I-MKaRSel5CZ4H4q44Lvhag8oq90g=s320" width="240" /></a> <br /></p><p>And if you live in northern Vermont, a good hat also really helps. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-16795891227749776572022-01-06T16:40:00.000-06:002022-01-06T16:40:19.777-06:00gracie's simple request<p>As I was scrolling through my email yesterday, looking for an old photograph, I stumbled upon this letter that Carolyn wrote to me last January. <b>One year ago. </b> The date stamp is on the email. At the time, I'd forwarded the note to my mother, with the comment, <i>"Ha! Well, it looks like Gracie wants to move ... the last time she wrote a letter to me this compelling, we bought her a puppy!" </i> <br /></p><p>Perhaps, this may just be more proof that <i>it is no coincidence </i>we were in Vermont when I received the phone call and our family, unanimously, made the decision to take a new road. While I'm not entirely sure where she came up with the $60K in taxes, she was spot-on that all it required was a A LEAP OF FAITH AND A CHECK AND A SNOWSUIT. </p><p>Little did she know at the time, her wish would be granted. Although, she NEVER expected that she'd be starting the new school year in Vermont from a tent. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRFGXPjaWi8Em0naRrindhg5VHsF2MzLk0Y6LvInPZ3kejhlqOfl2v8iSE9NFKr7hWKrqde7SWRkan_6ONxKOpW-FipYTpb4tvogJd0KiZ0oqcF7klOHc8B4MQtK2p2UYClWL4udzmzizn6OyJ9SlvQTWlp6XmK_6L93sFOr2yaAzA8aYZuQ=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRFGXPjaWi8Em0naRrindhg5VHsF2MzLk0Y6LvInPZ3kejhlqOfl2v8iSE9NFKr7hWKrqde7SWRkan_6ONxKOpW-FipYTpb4tvogJd0KiZ0oqcF7klOHc8B4MQtK2p2UYClWL4udzmzizn6OyJ9SlvQTWlp6XmK_6L93sFOr2yaAzA8aYZuQ=s320" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><p></p><p>If didn't know better, I'd think she has some truly divine connections. That said: I'm drawing the line at ponies. <b>WE WILL NOT BE BUYING A PONY. </b> (At least, I don't <i>think</i> so!) <br /></p><p>******** <br /></p><blockquote style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;" type="cite"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>From:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;">Carolyn <br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Subject:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Vermont...</b><br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Date:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;">January 21, 2021 at 4:32:12 PM EST<br /></span></div><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>To:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span><span style="font-family: -webkit-system-font, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jennifer <br /></span></div><br /><div><div class="" dir="ltr">Hello Mom, this is Gracie.<div class="">I have information on Green Mountain Union High school!</div><div class="">1) Only 318 students, through the 7th and 12th grade... it would be bumped up to 322 if we move there.... just saying!</div><div class="">2) The school itself and its students are actually pretty smart, and has a 80% graduation rate. </div><div class="">3) THEY HAVE A ALPINE SKIING TEAM OH MY GOD</div><div class="">4) I could start a Rowing team!!!! Yay!</div><div class="">5) Did I mention they have 322 stud- oh whoops sorry I mean 318... :)</div><div class="">6) In Vermont, it snows! And the leaves ACTUALLY fall off the trees.. and speaking of trees there are probably amazing Christmas trees!</div><div class="">7) We would be closer to family. By a couple thousand miles!</div><div class="">8) Average taxes are about 16,000 dollars a year (Including Income tax, Sales tax, Fuel Tax, and Property tax. Not counting water and gas bill. But it would be a lot better instead of... what was it?... 60,000 dollars a YEAR IN TAXES?!?!?!?!?!) </div><div class="">9) The land is beautiful... we could build a little house! With a Pony!! (Sorry got carried away)</div><div class="">10) Mom, I hate to be aggressively honest with you, but you are about to turn 50. And dad is going to be 54. (Or 55...) If you want to enjoy your fleeting youth as a healthy, mobile Adult with two working legs, feet, arms, hands, and your brain is as sharp as ever, why waste your years in regret? ALL IT REQUIRES IS A LEAP OF FAITH AND A CHECK AND A SNOWSUIT. </div><div class="">11) And a little unknown fact about me, I've always wanted to move to another state in highschool, and highschool is coming to an end! QUICKLY! I'M RUNNING OUT OF TIME MAKE HASTE LADY. </div><div class=""><br class="" /></div><div class="">In the end (About 40 years) , it's all up to you. And dad, but you wear the pants in the family. Luv you! No pressure</div></div></div></blockquote>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-47734705697395553432022-01-05T19:00:00.004-06:002022-01-05T19:01:36.043-06:00i ski, you ski, we all ski ... whee!!! <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">One of the best things about living in northern Vermont, is the proximity to epic skiing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0J4JAQImRY9DDVSVEu3pJoqm_1N6jjQTpi8tY6WuKVIHGpOnBbgDWf8D5kSJd-zYzidqfl2cU3rWeO0jNxsOekKqq5F5seJczjNJWsx1CA2MJkzZBjoYHPtCsQ0AFkrwbfIDvg9RJlkeaGDS2iqDOFKtsX66J9RZCEe3iyqYMdvV6GslmzA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0J4JAQImRY9DDVSVEu3pJoqm_1N6jjQTpi8tY6WuKVIHGpOnBbgDWf8D5kSJd-zYzidqfl2cU3rWeO0jNxsOekKqq5F5seJczjNJWsx1CA2MJkzZBjoYHPtCsQ0AFkrwbfIDvg9RJlkeaGDS2iqDOFKtsX66J9RZCEe3iyqYMdvV6GslmzA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p>Within an hour of our house, there are <i>multiple</i> ski areas. When we made our abrupt decision this summer that we were never going back to Texas, one of the first things we did - after finding a church, rental, and enrolling our children in school - is purchase annual ski passes at a ski resort 25 minutes from our house, at a significantly discounted rate. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoKEJJafH8HgADaTNpjORAieJEWQIxYEyh9lZoP6xPOL6a-p3A10MaoA5auIObft3MAKioH355QmVxvCh2Nqwqok0rqMcopck6LNGlQP7JOEGO9uWNzQGOimBxUqnpk2Ux3jyuDdSz9ldOoiw_k_UEpO6CS184RbebtgNT5ke4g7lmlInI_A=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjoKEJJafH8HgADaTNpjORAieJEWQIxYEyh9lZoP6xPOL6a-p3A10MaoA5auIObft3MAKioH355QmVxvCh2Nqwqok0rqMcopck6LNGlQP7JOEGO9uWNzQGOimBxUqnpk2Ux3jyuDdSz9ldOoiw_k_UEpO6CS184RbebtgNT5ke4g7lmlInI_A=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>Significantly as in - the cost of the pass is approximately what we'd typically spend on three days of skiing in New Mexico or Colorado. We also gave Liz and Henry the OK to try out snowboarding, which I'd never agreed to, before. Because ... I've heard it takes <b>days</b> to get the hang of it, I didn't want to waste our precious few days of skiing (on the rare occasion of when we could go) with kids frustratedly flopping around the mountain, unable to ride. Now that they can go several times a week, the pressure is OFF and, they have friends who <i>also</i> snowboard and can teach them. </p><p>Remarkably, certain children actually enjoy being on the mountain more than playing video games! </p><p>It's true and an answer to my prayers!</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBdMAD4zYONwfT-862cDd6fEPO2jXZwdWzIbHj_3ADr1ehGBuul5ag4EWuQtOSYrUhqlIoIhN077Y2Yx3mtgl88-ffUSpUyUT-mHu0wRuR-dfJSQxZIhLW6iD_T5HNPYiYv6JDOYQRA_VJvmV8FqJ5_snDGbpMLD4AgBFa4y3NkW_MyCnsQw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBdMAD4zYONwfT-862cDd6fEPO2jXZwdWzIbHj_3ADr1ehGBuul5ag4EWuQtOSYrUhqlIoIhN077Y2Yx3mtgl88-ffUSpUyUT-mHu0wRuR-dfJSQxZIhLW6iD_T5HNPYiYv6JDOYQRA_VJvmV8FqJ5_snDGbpMLD4AgBFa4y3NkW_MyCnsQw=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>Although the ski season opened up a few weeks ago, we got out for the first time, this past Monday, the last week of December. While the girls were at a track and field meet all day, Charlie - William - Henry and I went skiing. I must admit, I did feel a little guilty telling the girls that I'd miss seeing them compete, but they understood that if given the choice of watching them race for two minutes and throw a shot put for 30 seconds, and then hang out for the next six hours .... versus ski all day. </p><p><i>Well.... </i></p><p>They can tell us <b>allll</b> about it at dinner. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif3_mTdfxm9izhM11e8XjS9IZnRnoB1XgYK1nNdp-FbDnQg3MfLAWtaFymZgIW3WtC1BYHRYZ5p93I00cA2bskr1bt3ZU00imdzjyQHETkAtqe7mVpPyajFyAsPo5gWKYSO69zhz9SIMWMwNwLZUr5g5PgPfcGhMqZbRMXugKuymAvukJIfA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif3_mTdfxm9izhM11e8XjS9IZnRnoB1XgYK1nNdp-FbDnQg3MfLAWtaFymZgIW3WtC1BYHRYZ5p93I00cA2bskr1bt3ZU00imdzjyQHETkAtqe7mVpPyajFyAsPo5gWKYSO69zhz9SIMWMwNwLZUr5g5PgPfcGhMqZbRMXugKuymAvukJIfA=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>The following day, on Tuesday, the whole family, minus me who stayed home to work (separate blog post, I've started a wonderful new job!) went skiing. The whole family went night skiing on Wednesday. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq8qy5_gEM5Es9TmLdJ6KMiraHoUXB61AFzoCgvx4He2xdYfrnTVNhIxA3krGPjlF3GrERI8HBwt0CLnFujbJxl0pOSaZkr5i8Cw9Fr4tLYPNbplX5y460qdaFeDTA7vf-TrV9srfmPv4yc5fZctPbFJaS_-eMlpf46gf-QhLSXBYMoSqJ_Q=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhq8qy5_gEM5Es9TmLdJ6KMiraHoUXB61AFzoCgvx4He2xdYfrnTVNhIxA3krGPjlF3GrERI8HBwt0CLnFujbJxl0pOSaZkr5i8Cw9Fr4tLYPNbplX5y460qdaFeDTA7vf-TrV9srfmPv4yc5fZctPbFJaS_-eMlpf46gf-QhLSXBYMoSqJ_Q=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>And on Thursday, after Charlie and I went in for our COVID boosters ... I took the girls night skiing, again, before the side effects of the booster hit me. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPR_3VFLSmt8lICgHBBOaI-LBkbUgg0pU3zRGwft4okN1Yz18S5lT154B8sHP7DTTFD6dhMx_cgQuDz_KMDZlbe3Lk54yZtuF0Zkk75FFsFTbv76vRl8sIcbOXeD28bOaTyAC0yI7hfDCsL0LGM2iGkAAnjw3BKbFBomCodjfLqUMNrSjqNg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPR_3VFLSmt8lICgHBBOaI-LBkbUgg0pU3zRGwft4okN1Yz18S5lT154B8sHP7DTTFD6dhMx_cgQuDz_KMDZlbe3Lk54yZtuF0Zkk75FFsFTbv76vRl8sIcbOXeD28bOaTyAC0yI7hfDCsL0LGM2iGkAAnjw3BKbFBomCodjfLqUMNrSjqNg=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>Because that's what a passionate really wants to be an expert, but is a pretty solid intermediate snow-starved skier does - they ski at every possible opportunity. Then I came home, showered, and 12 hours on the dot from the shot, experienced a sensation very much like that feeling when you're standing at the top of a double black diamond mogul run wondering <i>why exactly did I do this to myself? </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixPIUaC9ija8lIWm1cQsVJNZj1jvMED_lrqBzBBhYCj13R0r9TmHa7gj36JbDqURIWGpyhLNaMGQ0iohQRx05iME0EpGgCx3BlhOOSHw2k6RnG8wv03l27chzR4gFH7xyTjK74F7MNM3ObG978Krz17kU-XyMH-Pyf1_iM1ulTHEpfzTUMJA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixPIUaC9ija8lIWm1cQsVJNZj1jvMED_lrqBzBBhYCj13R0r9TmHa7gj36JbDqURIWGpyhLNaMGQ0iohQRx05iME0EpGgCx3BlhOOSHw2k6RnG8wv03l27chzR4gFH7xyTjK74F7MNM3ObG978Krz17kU-XyMH-Pyf1_iM1ulTHEpfzTUMJA=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>We didn't ski on Friday or Saturday, because we were completely incapacitated with headaches, body aches, and chills. We didn't make it on Sunday, either, because the lifts shut down at 4, and we weren't ready to leave until 3. Although we're close, we have a four-run minimum rule. If you can't get in at least four runs, save yourself the trip. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFbn_NlL2_pGNJSqexnHni6tjpuuVwr8t6WeUw5AcuuNjARzTGFBf49gNitvMRMG-5GfiHfcc7FjuK4KXRMfeLeQHvZIgXiNUdVjHyck77f6-o_I-owddY4oD5ffdO9F5lcziEbcBM7xsid0RlnE1R3D6cHQvz-fofFIwbaqExlUPl44aNGg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFbn_NlL2_pGNJSqexnHni6tjpuuVwr8t6WeUw5AcuuNjARzTGFBf49gNitvMRMG-5GfiHfcc7FjuK4KXRMfeLeQHvZIgXiNUdVjHyck77f6-o_I-owddY4oD5ffdO9F5lcziEbcBM7xsid0RlnE1R3D6cHQvz-fofFIwbaqExlUPl44aNGg=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>We've already been back on the mountain this week, twice, and are planning to go again, tomorrow and for most of the day on Saturday. Meanwhile, William and Carolyn have joined the Alpine Ski Team at their high school, and are up at a <i>different</i> mountain several times a week. Henry will be joining the Snowboard team at his school, so will hopefully have some tricks he can teach his sister. Who, for reasons that have always eluded me, finds joy and insists on running as fast as she can, every chance she gets.</p><p>it's mostly awe - and a whole lot of of pride in these kids. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghbiWBCazqMkJD0kgriTgPpBgWJnY7yxd3-SVriP2AzpRZ7Lp5RbCyLTl8wBX-72uXDZwosdQLfCBmf06Iu3lzdnPyTM-hYXDRHARVlBkzEla0UOVxLxZoF1Wr5bIxanVzqt1Hy8spULe9wrXb0ZcAccXMNu4dYyZc42qFrvJdq6kCSVi6tA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghbiWBCazqMkJD0kgriTgPpBgWJnY7yxd3-SVriP2AzpRZ7Lp5RbCyLTl8wBX-72uXDZwosdQLfCBmf06Iu3lzdnPyTM-hYXDRHARVlBkzEla0UOVxLxZoF1Wr5bIxanVzqt1Hy8spULe9wrXb0ZcAccXMNu4dYyZc42qFrvJdq6kCSVi6tA=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>So, it's kind of a dream to work all day and then once the kids come home from school and grab a quick snack - throw on ski pants and a jacket - hop in the car and slap on boots, skis, and hit the slopes. </p><p>Pinch me. Is this real?? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS12eU9gKYZa3EEjjWvE74RvHLERTN8Ok37zjBczerjZqfTMurp0JcivkJwu15ckt6y79ABWc0wCHrE_pqI4nkCCcvxn7Wy2OXD-P1GApDyaj2ygU-68V-NaOdyB5Iqc-d7uITylTqwjb-YybiSgH0KGnbbdsZnCxSUjTI_b9T7LSCkcnq0g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhS12eU9gKYZa3EEjjWvE74RvHLERTN8Ok37zjBczerjZqfTMurp0JcivkJwu15ckt6y79ABWc0wCHrE_pqI4nkCCcvxn7Wy2OXD-P1GApDyaj2ygU-68V-NaOdyB5Iqc-d7uITylTqwjb-YybiSgH0KGnbbdsZnCxSUjTI_b9T7LSCkcnq0g=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>Pretty much <b><i>everything</i></b> about Vermont is a dream come true. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-79409576174331823132022-01-01T14:52:00.003-06:002022-01-01T14:55:53.394-06:00¡feliz año nuevo!<p><i>NOTE: The photos in this post are in no way related to Mexico; I'm not sure I've ever seen photos of that trip. These are a few pictures from our new home and environs - which we are loving; Vermont is absolutely <u>perfect</u> in every way.</i></p><p>Not sure I've ever written about it, but one of our best new year's memories, was the year Charlie and I went to Mexico with my Dad and his wife at the time, Gail. Dad and Gail came to visit us in San Diego, and on a whim, we put our two dogs, Monty and Molly, in a kennel and drove south of the border to Ensenada for a couple of days. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7zFm9AisGzRmBNxjPiJlgczw97a8tCTyg0SU7e4PDoiu1NpCWU5K4iIzc2xzl0v5Cm5q0UyiNruA4KBV4_nS0Z3kItYqvDH1bhG4SO1cUqVHCVdONjRvth6p1qrg_Sq8QhrdBh2FzjbVoNe_S4tDzAevrVOkU9x_lladf8Vka-cD8pGeEyw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7zFm9AisGzRmBNxjPiJlgczw97a8tCTyg0SU7e4PDoiu1NpCWU5K4iIzc2xzl0v5Cm5q0UyiNruA4KBV4_nS0Z3kItYqvDH1bhG4SO1cUqVHCVdONjRvth6p1qrg_Sq8QhrdBh2FzjbVoNe_S4tDzAevrVOkU9x_lladf8Vka-cD8pGeEyw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">What I remember the most about our experience, was being out late at night - dancing and laughing - and having so much fun on New Year's Eve. We didn't know anybody - couldn't speak any Spanish - but were making friends everywhere we went: at the hotel, at the restaurant, just walking down the street. </span></div><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbC93ryECLn3uGs4Le9ETgCiNzImvPAr7YZO4JqEslN0Zhz70Yz_0lzS6elBviYz4H3e3EUeYF_8p434pj4QCzyhbKAvIvWkiiHWsZ5blm8ctgNLDjYpoJm9AMiAYOHx2jRxUorqqR0pRq3rC-Ej8T2KQM9Y_yD9Rscxu44208WHik8bdcpg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbC93ryECLn3uGs4Le9ETgCiNzImvPAr7YZO4JqEslN0Zhz70Yz_0lzS6elBviYz4H3e3EUeYF_8p434pj4QCzyhbKAvIvWkiiHWsZ5blm8ctgNLDjYpoJm9AMiAYOHx2jRxUorqqR0pRq3rC-Ej8T2KQM9Y_yD9Rscxu44208WHik8bdcpg=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>We'd ask strangers where they'd suggest we visit during our time in town, and they would personally escort us to all the different places that they thought were worth a visit. <b><i>We were intentional about having fun and we did! </i></b>We ate - we drank - we danced - we laughed with our new friends in Mexico and we had an absolute blast. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFZynEV2bkywsBiOQXBnfxxkLwgnZGCaEZolaZDVxxnAfPlIS9oSxQ41GTN0-CVKydznGB40iVPZi9Ps11d0o12A_yRNzNr1NaIOrkd-N2O0sc-WuPGkFU3sJgkUoQd2gMvj4QEmYtxKaYv3VTH-cumm7x3LQefP8F8mHWIUYBN9nMaAeguw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFZynEV2bkywsBiOQXBnfxxkLwgnZGCaEZolaZDVxxnAfPlIS9oSxQ41GTN0-CVKydznGB40iVPZi9Ps11d0o12A_yRNzNr1NaIOrkd-N2O0sc-WuPGkFU3sJgkUoQd2gMvj4QEmYtxKaYv3VTH-cumm7x3LQefP8F8mHWIUYBN9nMaAeguw=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>At one point, all the people around us started to count, "Cinco ... Cuatro ... Tres ... Dos ... Uno ..." and then the entire restaurant / bar / dance hall shouted, <b>"FELIZ AÑO NUEVO!!" </b> And the four of us fell in to hysterics because while it didn't dawn on us in the moment, we quickly caught on that they were counting backwards ... five, four three, two, one - happy new year... in española! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDQKmypz8tzIG1v2fEPcKe4oYECySYE3wKHiZrMowfoOx7AvZtqT3yFRAS7ooah45zBfgz1Q-1hbcWsppBG0fsY9Btz983g9wBM965OrgmJ31exocJ0pREHrxshoFeEM0lg_EFfut4V5RczgmsL8MoZgSvlvMILay6J5iXF4_MHpu_I0-FaA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDQKmypz8tzIG1v2fEPcKe4oYECySYE3wKHiZrMowfoOx7AvZtqT3yFRAS7ooah45zBfgz1Q-1hbcWsppBG0fsY9Btz983g9wBM965OrgmJ31exocJ0pREHrxshoFeEM0lg_EFfut4V5RczgmsL8MoZgSvlvMILay6J5iXF4_MHpu_I0-FaA=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>Another memory of that trip, after Gail fell backwards in to an oversized plant pot because her legs were so tired from dancing and she may or may not have had too much tequila, was the four of us making our way back to the hotel room to play cards, and realizing that we were <b>famished</b>. So Charlie left us, at 2 AM, to peruse the streets of Ensenada and see what he could find to eat. </p><p>Looking back, that probably wasn't the wisest choice to send Charlie out alone, but he came back with heaping bags full of chips, salsa and street tacos and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. One: that he made it back to us. And two: that he came bearing FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD. We never did figure out what was in those tacos, exactly ... pretty sure it was some kind of meat ... but in that moment, it was the most delicious thing we'd ever tasted and we were so darn grateful for our brave hunter and gatherer. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOaxEg_ioV7JB0bwxYeSFfFr0RqLODFkpWETiqA4wJxHftWFLhDtN01JQKooxPU9K6G_vevR6KJqr11rgQW73Ul-c05sraxGJUTAuK6jJcSI9fSwJJXh5vdve-IfvKqPk2fgWI3ySLvs9UESdFf_1QdiZKxf0xpucFgw12Z60PUONjX0ABlg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOaxEg_ioV7JB0bwxYeSFfFr0RqLODFkpWETiqA4wJxHftWFLhDtN01JQKooxPU9K6G_vevR6KJqr11rgQW73Ul-c05sraxGJUTAuK6jJcSI9fSwJJXh5vdve-IfvKqPk2fgWI3ySLvs9UESdFf_1QdiZKxf0xpucFgw12Z60PUONjX0ABlg=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>The year was 1999 we partied like it. I doubt I'll ever have a New Year celebration that matches that one; don't physically think I could handle it ... but what a fun event for the memory banks. There's such truth in Prince's lyrics: <i>"But life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last." </i></p><p>This past Thursday, Charlie and I went in for our COVID booster shots. We both got 'em on the same day, which we <b><i>never</i></b> would have done a few years ago when the kids were younger. Alas, they're older now and more capable of taking care of themselves - and us - so we thought this would be a good opportunity for our offspring to learn what it's like to care for us when we're infirmed, and scheduled the first available appointment. No surprise, we were both totally incapacitated for almost 18 hours. So instead of a rocking New Year's celebration, we laid around in our pajamas all day, cuddled under blankets and clutching cups of hot tea, and watched back-to-back movies. We introduced our kids to the legend that is Jackie Chan, and did less yesterday than we've done all year ... <i>and it felt so, so good. </i></p><p>Because we don't have any furniture yet, we have moved our patio furniture inside, but it looks great and is a significant upgrade from our camping chairs. We also don't have a TV upstairs yet, either, so have been pinning a white sheet up against the back wall and using our projector for the ultimate in-home theatre experience. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG3V7Zh1y4oRX0TNVj8aO_MWZzKdTXVRUk5qsPGUbZXsbcFsejgw9APAKoATgBApP666grc4YZHLfyp9wn66ZB2MeTzbCM5flcEq5uwKEUs4HnbWEsEuCgl5im7iKWjDLgLxRc7_gg1BmcZHwBFMof5XZmLUyqOFa0nUW4KeKDiEn-j6YBdQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhG3V7Zh1y4oRX0TNVj8aO_MWZzKdTXVRUk5qsPGUbZXsbcFsejgw9APAKoATgBApP666grc4YZHLfyp9wn66ZB2MeTzbCM5flcEq5uwKEUs4HnbWEsEuCgl5im7iKWjDLgLxRc7_gg1BmcZHwBFMof5XZmLUyqOFa0nUW4KeKDiEn-j6YBdQ=s320" width="240" /></a></p><p>At this juncture, we're so incredibly focused and happy with what we <b><u>do</u></b> have: Our health, our family, our faith, our new home, our sense of adventure, and this totally exciting new chapter of life which just keeps getting better - and better. I'll close this post with a verse that I included in our annual holiday letter: </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQqiYPiSH7spd4IfjFQWXJ6vZF1trLO2dFHzJgbTZZ7aKpAD1XvbE0_AjbGdB9Ay1zmhCHd3g-e1eR-gOGO6lTqMLGDUA0ZjWhIu1Bv7Y9kiorp9eII8D_EQP6upb6XXtwFobxdjyaPIh4lkFOMpTlSNVziCQTDDNDjUa0YU7ie_zoYYmbHw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQqiYPiSH7spd4IfjFQWXJ6vZF1trLO2dFHzJgbTZZ7aKpAD1XvbE0_AjbGdB9Ay1zmhCHd3g-e1eR-gOGO6lTqMLGDUA0ZjWhIu1Bv7Y9kiorp9eII8D_EQP6upb6XXtwFobxdjyaPIh4lkFOMpTlSNVziCQTDDNDjUa0YU7ie_zoYYmbHw=s320" width="240" /></a></div><p><i>The most important lessons we've learned this year, is to <b><u>never</u></b> forget your value or worth... sometimes, taking that huge leap of faith, while very frightening, can be akin to a second birth. </i></p><p><i>Also, remember, to always breathe deeply, and give abundant thanks to the gifts from above... and the universe will continue to unfold as it should - when you fill your days with love. </i></p><p><i>Life continues to be amazing, wonderful, and as beautiful as we <b><u>believe</u></b> and <b><u>see</u></b> it to be... it is our holiday wish that you feel all the love and good wishes we are sending to thee. </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuLIBY0-TzeqdVwuoRCUpt2JxX52YnXVAP0Ms0fslnrvRnAKR9mU-Td_AgTZOEkE4xfZ621pzTWb73hIlDQtgyBe0ajtD-2My-MjgTJy5Pefh223JZFqG6hYwzDEzDmooJlzV8xcySRqZ2dc15rukj5aWr7UtcXowO4UoyX_qqiw4NSoGVQg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuLIBY0-TzeqdVwuoRCUpt2JxX52YnXVAP0Ms0fslnrvRnAKR9mU-Td_AgTZOEkE4xfZ621pzTWb73hIlDQtgyBe0ajtD-2My-MjgTJy5Pefh223JZFqG6hYwzDEzDmooJlzV8xcySRqZ2dc15rukj5aWr7UtcXowO4UoyX_qqiw4NSoGVQg=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>Feliz Año Nuevo, amigos! May you dance - love - live - and enjoy your best year, <b>yet</b>. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-63846679649163596732021-11-10T13:58:00.000-06:002021-11-10T13:58:17.802-06:00a walk of faith <p style="text-align: left;">Before I start this post, it's important to mention that just yesterday, I was doing some housekeeping on the blog format - and noticed that I had a load of unpublished comments awaiting my approval. Some of the comments were from a few days ago, and some went back several years, which was quite a shock! </p><p style="text-align: left;">There once was a time - long, long ago, when our children took naps and went to bed before 11 PM - I would write
prolifically. That has really tapered off in recent years, and I rarely
hear from people anymore. Although, I've tried to keep this space
somewhat updated as a means of chronicling our lives, I didn't
think very many people still read my jabberings. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Seeing all of the comments
yesterday has me both flattered and self-conscious. While there are a
few people I know that read it on the rare occasion I write (Hi Mom! Hi Mrs. Dunnigan!), I've begun
equating my writing to singing in the shower. You really belt it out
when you're alone because you know no one is going to hear it. Or,
those that might hear it - love you enough to forgive your
imperfections, or laugh when you're way off key. <br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">It was a really nice surprise to hear from so many people that have been reading this space since our children were babies. Thank you for reaching out to me! Now that I know where the comments awaiting approval are located, I promise I'll do a better job checking them. (And work on my run-on sentences.)<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">*************<br /></p><p>Charlie recently found this picture / meme which is such a <b><i><u>perfect</u></i></b> visual of our lives at the moment. Doesn't it actually look like the guy is dressed for Vermont?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3p-8tk44csTtK8j0DWovWIUoGceEH5YcBFE0nfUTUmAU6Bv3bzZchhvXSTG9x8icHWCtaiT6l_7u5nURy2o5LZhfXqNPt0uYYOtcWsjmlTj0kYEbfWQSU-9xi2LwhXpN-Mmta/s2048/IMG_0872.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2034" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3p-8tk44csTtK8j0DWovWIUoGceEH5YcBFE0nfUTUmAU6Bv3bzZchhvXSTG9x8icHWCtaiT6l_7u5nURy2o5LZhfXqNPt0uYYOtcWsjmlTj0kYEbfWQSU-9xi2LwhXpN-Mmta/s320/IMG_0872.jpg" width="318" /></a> <br /></p><p><i>La dee da da da .... I'm walking straight off a cliff! </i></p><p>Whenever I find myself talking with strangers about how we happened to "land" here, it never fails to elicit a gasp, usually followed by an exclamation of how awesome and inspiring it is that we just took this huge leap of faith. The fact is: this move and everything we've done over the past few months is <b><u>all</u></b> about faith. </p><p>According to Hebrews 11:1, <i>Faith is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. </i></p><p>We've got SO MUCH FAITH that things are going to work out positively for us in Vermont. Although, I will admit, coming to this "place" has not been without a significant amount of second guessing and a couple full-blown panic attacks. While I'd love to say that I've just embraced this whole experience with a heart full of peace and bliss, I'm nothing if not transparent and honest. </p><p>There have been a few times over the past couple of months where I've started hyperventilating and from a nearly fetal position on the ground, asked, <i>"Why are we here? WHY VERMONT? Why not warm South Carolina near my mom and Aunt Grace? We don't know anybody here! What have we done?! I gave up my stable and lucrative career, 4.5 years from retirement! We gave up our home and our community! Winter is coming soon, we still have 250 boxes to unpack, I have no idea where my down jacket is .... and we're all going to freeze and perish!" </i><br /></p><p>We knew <i>no one</i> when we stopped dropped and rolled on the banks of Lake Champlain in late July. No jobs. No home. No community. No, nothing except a hope and a prayer - and our beloved Airstream. <br /></p><p>Despite not having any roots here, <b>we started sowing seeds, fast. </b> </p><p>As of this writing, we are dialed in with a church and bible study group, an orthodontist - dentist - doctors, a ladies cards group, two scout troops, two schools - and various sports teams. William and Elizabeth have both started part-time jobs, and I'll be starting a knitting group once we get settled in to our new home, which is scheduled to close on Friday.<b> </b></p><p>As in, this Friday ... Charlie's birthday. </p>Aside from Charlie's part-time work, we do not yet have jobs. There's a large part of me that cannot believe we bought a home without having steady employment - but we did. Why? Because it was a better financial investment than renting, we believe we are going to be here for a while (at least until the children graduate from high school!) and most importantly: we have <b>faith</b>. <p><i>The confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. <b> </b></i></p><p><i><b>The evidence of things we cannot yet see. </b></i> <br /></p><p>A couple weeks ago, <i>on a particularly challenging day</i>, I stumbled upon the wisdom of 94-year old Catherine Ponder. Catherine is a prosperity guru, predating Tony Robbins and Joel Osteen, and her message, in a nutshell, is that we need to turn the <u><i>great energy</i></u> of our thinking in to <u><i>ideas of plenty</i></u>. </p><p>Rather than plague ourselves with negative thoughts, we instead need to open our minds to receive the universal abundance that is ours. Some of her key points (I took notes from her nearly four hour <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_jvqcOztaE">1972 conference on YouTube</a>!) include:</p><p></p>- Things are getting better and better<p>- Get rid of what you <u><i>don't</i></u> want to make room for what you <u><i>do</i></u> want <br /></p><p>- There must be a release of the old to make way for the new </p><p>- We must let go of all worn out things: worn out conditions, worn out relationships <br /></p>- Order must be established, we need to get things in "divine order" for channels to open<p>- We must believe that it is spiritually right to prosper and let go of any guilt <br /></p><p>- Dynamic is dynamite: If you work your plan, it will blast us out of our own limitations <br /></p><p>- Get definitive in thoughts and actions, and vast improvement <b>will</b> come quickly to life</p><p>That last point is so powerful, I love it. We must get <i><u><b>definitive</b></u></i> about what you want. <br /></p><p>Ever since I've listened to this message, I have tried to be very intentional with my energy: my thoughts, my actions, my time. And I have been extremely grateful for all the blind steps that we've taken over the past 100 days on this journey, that have miraculously, time and time again, been met with solid ground. <br /></p><p>But I still need some help with being intentional. It turns out, I can be <b>very</b> easily distracted and sometimes have the mental capacity of a potato chip. </p><p>Perhaps I need to take more naps and drink more water. </p><p>Walking straight off a cliff in to a new life can be exhausting, and dehydrating. <br /></p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-35678031853068825572021-11-08T10:44:00.001-06:002021-11-08T11:08:31.239-06:00there are no accidents <p>A week ago, Wednesday, Charlie and I were standing in the kitchen, the kids had just left for school, and we were sipping our coffee and tea, while waiting for the moving truck to arrive from Houston. In a few minutes, I was supposed to be heading out to a job interview in a nearby town. </p><p>It was a big day for us. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFUdN-E0ovycHW75uHkREC24EL0zgLuDumpemwwwys6KPFmRwQ-3XFvAdK_zHQnsliZUUvMjlEUwh8ypmHqUhYEMFAMMNfemHEO0bISP_g0NUyp1O5IW4z0gBFQ8THDZ57t6x/s2048/IMG_0808.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFUdN-E0ovycHW75uHkREC24EL0zgLuDumpemwwwys6KPFmRwQ-3XFvAdK_zHQnsliZUUvMjlEUwh8ypmHqUhYEMFAMMNfemHEO0bISP_g0NUyp1O5IW4z0gBFQ8THDZ57t6x/s320/IMG_0808.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">It had been nearly 19 weeks since we'd last seen our belongings and we were so excited at the prospect of sleeping in actual beds again. Our possessions had been significantly truncated because we conveyed a lot with the sale of the house, and donated a lot more. But, we were filled with anticipation for our dining room table, beds, and clothes to arrive. While we love our camping apparel - it's nice to not wear hiking pants and jeans </span><i style="text-align: left;">every</i><span style="text-align: left;"> day. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Perhaps once we had our own things again - we'd start to feel some semblance of normalcy. And once I had a job interview and received some positive feedback, my self-confidence and feeling of value would be restored. Interestingly enough - as much as I desperately want to find another role and get back in to the driver's seat as the mover and shaker I know that I am ... to the core of my being, I did not want to go to this interview. </div><div><br /></div><div>For whatever reason, I have had an overwhelming pull that <i><u>I'm not ready</u></i>. Despite the fact that Charlie and / or I want and / or need to have a job soon so we can continue our benefits - and feed our children - on this particular day, I had a grim sense of foreboding about this interview. And yet, I was mechanically going through all of the motions: taking a shower, getting dressed, finding my long-lost make-up and putting it on. My mind had completely taken over and was propelling my body forward because this was something I surely needed to do to lessen the death grip of anxiety that had a hold of my heart for the past three months. Maybe things would lighten up and the feeling of relief would be palpable when a company recognized my superb talent and worth. I was trying to pump myself up for the interview, Charlie was telling me to get in to the Wonder Woman Power Pose. Nothing was helping. My heart wasn't in it. But I grabbed my purse and keys and was preparing to walk out the door. </div><div><p></p><p><i>Just before I got there, the phone rang. </i></p><p>Charlie answered it. An hour earlier, he had spoken with the truck driver who let him know she would be running two hours late because she'd had mechanical issues that forced her off the road until she could have her rig repaired. From the look on his face, now, surely there was another problem with the moving truck. He was rubbing his head, and had grave concern in his eyes, with teeth clenched. </p><p>What could it possibly be? <b>Please, not an accident!</b> My thoughts immediately went to the driver. Instead, it was the school nurse calling to tell us that Elizabeth had a serious accident at school and needed to be picked up and taken to the hospital, promptly. They said she passed out while seated, and struck her head on the ground and was now very confused. Charlie hung up and relayed the information to me, and I <i>crumbled</i> in to tears. NOOOOOOOOO! <b><i>Not my baby! </i></b> <i> </i></p><p>The roller coaster that I hoped was almost over, made another <b>rapid</b> descent. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUEBlERASyJ4sVJYSNbxYp5BQm4QFeJyURsJoJdmJr2Rp28oVHDfT6LQ3xBy1H2Ux5PSJtMuJFTG8ulE9OqiNrsVVo2T1FJsG_ZKAskKIO4eoXFqHkG-ZjGuNV3YrG4Np6H4_/s2048/IMG_0802.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUEBlERASyJ4sVJYSNbxYp5BQm4QFeJyURsJoJdmJr2Rp28oVHDfT6LQ3xBy1H2Ux5PSJtMuJFTG8ulE9OqiNrsVVo2T1FJsG_ZKAskKIO4eoXFqHkG-ZjGuNV3YrG4Np6H4_/s320/IMG_0802.jpg" width="240" /></a></p><p>Every imaginable fear flooded my brain with what precipitated this event and what would happen, next. Pulling myself together, I called the company I was supposed to meet in 30 minutes, and told them I would be unable to make it. Then I drove to the school to get our daughter, while Charlie stayed home to meet the movers who would be pulling in to the neighborhood within an hour. When they rolled Elizabeth out of the building in a wheelchair, she looked even worse than I expected. She had a bad cut above her eye and wounds on her face where she had landed when she pitched out of her chair. Her eyes, full of tears, were so frightened. She did not understand what had happened - nor why it happened. </p><p>Miracle of miracles, I didn't stumble when I saw my sweet girl, but tapped an inner strength that convinced my daughter, and myself, that All Would Be Well. We just need to breathe deeply, keep our faith, pray for continued strength, and put one foot in front of the other. SMILE. Even if we're terrified, we'll fake it until we make it. This is a really <b>difficult</b> season, but it will not last forever. </p><p>For now, we need to figure out what is going on and be grateful that I still have phenomenal benefits through ExxonMobil. And so for the next eight hours, we'd be at the Emergency Room unraveling the details of what occurred and creating an extensive medical tab.</p><p>After a full day of waiting ... vitals checking ... IV line ... pain medication ... CT scans ... X-Rays ... and a referral to a pediatric neurologist, Elizabeth's memory started to come back and the awesome Emergency Room doctor formulated a theory that this was a totally freak accident. </p><p>Elizabeth was in her AP Environmental Science class and the teacher was talking about soil and groundwater contamination. Elizabeth, being the daughter of two scientists that have built their careers around soil and groundwater contamination - got so excited that she accidentally cracked her knee against a drawer at her table. The pain was so intense, that it literally knocked her out. She remembered hitting her knee, and seeing stars while thinking <i>"Wow, that's kind of weird! I think I need to put my head down...." </i>before waking up in the nurse's office. </p><p>What she doesn't remember is fainting, pitching out of her chair, smashing her face on the ground which caused a concussion and seizure. She also doesn't remember twisting her ankle so badly on the way down that it fractured. She didn't remember the amazing EMT that works on the school staff who was by her side within two minutes of the incident and the room full of students, who all immediately stood up and graciously departed the room to protect her privacy. She didn't remember how she got to the nurse's office, or her brother running in to check on her, and answer questions regarding how she arrived at school that day. She vaguely, although fondly, remembers Carolyn showing up and rubbing her shoulder but didn't realize it was her sister. She passed out a few more times, before I arrived and took her directly to the the UVM Medical Center. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBuQ1C9FVzX5AzipJw6NxPj-vOcTaawUlbp7lNHyiybgcViJQuicKGTaU_RC7zz5mN7NOuzxrsfpbnOGa6sp4xADxEBWwezI0M__0JLtsXGRyqCaD9_Wd-w73UpBWxWMMZSro/s2048/IMG_0799.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLBuQ1C9FVzX5AzipJw6NxPj-vOcTaawUlbp7lNHyiybgcViJQuicKGTaU_RC7zz5mN7NOuzxrsfpbnOGa6sp4xADxEBWwezI0M__0JLtsXGRyqCaD9_Wd-w73UpBWxWMMZSro/s320/IMG_0799.jpg" width="240" /></a></p><p>In between each of the procedures, <i>phenomenal</i> nurses and the attending doctor would stop by to talk with us and keep us apprised of the results. They were virtually certain it was a fluke situation. But we'd need to follow-up with neurology and have an EEG performed, in order to confirm that there was no underlying issue that had yet to be identified. </p><p>The best part of the day is that at the end of the day, my heart was so tender with gratitude: all of my chicks were <i>safely</i> back in the nest, the school and hospital staff were extremely competent, kind, and compassionate; I tapped an inner strength to help me summit another hill on the roller coaster, we still have excellent benefit coverage, the job interview was deferred until a later time when I am more fully prepared. And Elizabeth and I arrived home just in time to witness a spectacular sunset over the Adirondacks... </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9AMktSXCpnAOcj_ojJZdsKCCsdr-WHyMB_iID2x_wIJveEyuAIKtwgnpsRYmw2eLpIRnWBISFxtukY_saZOzTqtlca2KyjjABpPQCIqukc2okUsxZLeNOoPOLKWWES27q5m1/s2048/IMG_0814.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG9AMktSXCpnAOcj_ojJZdsKCCsdr-WHyMB_iID2x_wIJveEyuAIKtwgnpsRYmw2eLpIRnWBISFxtukY_saZOzTqtlca2KyjjABpPQCIqukc2okUsxZLeNOoPOLKWWES27q5m1/s320/IMG_0814.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>And spy the movers carrying in her beloved bed. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4qOar0E2lQoQx_PI31EuqMH2VwkOMZ_mFNXK6bzg0kexhCCmZz7i5mCMJOQjG40YHCJHRP5YT87AXS8Kn6tQAvU43zEna8Y10XtXNw7X4YCytZcruTjRt_5Samc61xkpdOhT/s2048/IMG_0819.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4qOar0E2lQoQx_PI31EuqMH2VwkOMZ_mFNXK6bzg0kexhCCmZz7i5mCMJOQjG40YHCJHRP5YT87AXS8Kn6tQAvU43zEna8Y10XtXNw7X4YCytZcruTjRt_5Samc61xkpdOhT/s320/IMG_0819.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p>By way of an update, the EEG this past week, thankfully, was normal.</p><p>I'm convinced that the heart is never quite so tender and grateful as when you recognize the gifts in your life, count your blessings, and really grasp just how <u>quickly</u> things can change. <i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i></p><p>Breathe deeply. Keep your faith. Pray for continued strength. Put one foot in front of the other. Smile. And as much as possible, try to laugh. </p><p><i>Seriously, you got so excited about groundwater contamination that you knocked yourself out? </i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VMmh7CSclted3j3JEg3RvJBmQy3pehZVTcEtt6tWp4AKEsiJ412ykd1DQeZ_Wq2ZI2d4hbJsfyj4dc9gTRq4gp_WFqR2hyNIZG_FYBmFWg0ceHq6FslZyuaBsNoKLIQeYc5E/s2048/IMG_0865.jpg" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0VMmh7CSclted3j3JEg3RvJBmQy3pehZVTcEtt6tWp4AKEsiJ412ykd1DQeZ_Wq2ZI2d4hbJsfyj4dc9gTRq4gp_WFqR2hyNIZG_FYBmFWg0ceHq6FslZyuaBsNoKLIQeYc5E/s320/IMG_0865.jpg" width="240" /></a></p><p>We just might have another hydrogeologist on our hands. </p></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-3822237338566476042021-10-26T12:09:00.004-05:002021-10-26T12:28:53.995-05:00what is a home? <p>We put an offer in on a house this past weekend. </p><p>It was a rather stress inducing process in and of itself, because the inventory is so slim around here, when things come on the market, they're typically snatched up fast, and way <i>over</i> the asking price. Surprisingly, this particular house had been on the market for a few weeks and needed some work. Charlie loved it, and embraced the funkiness. I was appalled at the cost and amount of work needed to get it to a condition that would justify the sales price. </p><p>But, we have been feeling so anxious to get in to our own place, that I just closed my eyes and jumped on it. I've had this terrible gnawing on my heart that the clock is ticking fast with these kids at home before they launch. More than just about anything, I want them to feel the security of a home, <i>their home</i>, that they can decorate and live in and not feel like they're in some temporary grimy rental. These days are so incredibly precious and fleeting to me: in less than two years, the triplets will graduate from high school and potentially be moving out to college. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDj_Xt7ZRV7xdLt2Dg5FBOgdNE9bXTdhpjwhYl00V1tHdU34vnKOW4JLDAUmg0-8UcL1lvnmKPSTGJoP2AHRoZ0JQX7Nw9iEjt7RkS0pdtrTue-UGDveoKzERUsLvXA09Eq73/s2048/IMG_0617.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDj_Xt7ZRV7xdLt2Dg5FBOgdNE9bXTdhpjwhYl00V1tHdU34vnKOW4JLDAUmg0-8UcL1lvnmKPSTGJoP2AHRoZ0JQX7Nw9iEjt7RkS0pdtrTue-UGDveoKzERUsLvXA09Eq73/s320/IMG_0617.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>HOLD ME! </p><p>Not to mention, how lovely would it be to be in our <b>own</b> Vermont home by the holidays?! We potentially only have two more Halloweens, Thanksgivings and Christmases with 3/4 of our children living under our roof full-time: I want to bring out our decorations and do these holidays <b>well</b>. I have memory expectations and visions of what this time is supposed to look like ... and EVERY MOMENT COUNTS. And yet - this situation we are in is so counter to those expectations and visions. </p><p>I'd actually thought when we moved from California to Virginia - that would be our forever home. It was so difficult for us to move to Texas, but at that point - I didn't feel like we had many options. On the upside, Henry was only in second grade, the triplets in fifth, so they had plenty of time to connect with new friends they'd hopefully have for life. So we set about making the Texas home as homey as we could. We spent a small fortune renovating it: new kitchen and floors - air conditioning units, furnaces; landscaping, upgrades to the pool and jacuzzi; room expansions and lots of painting. The house really <i>was</i> lovely. But we quickly came to realize that the area we were living was so transient. Friends came and went - and while they did make connections, they weren't deep enough to convince any of us: the kids most of all, to return to Texas this summer. </p><p>As I wrote about previously, the worst thing that could have ever happened to me in my career at ExxonMobil, happened when I received the NSI rank. One of the worst things that I thought could have ever happened to my children at this point in their young lives, was to be ripped from their lovely home and friends and community and be plopped in to a totally new environment, in a rental house. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQfYs9t5nV6SHegsnkdO_lQhwOiKOTk2OG8LkmZIAycNH1mdYjYax-YUrGt7RvEnvTZmqq0LNxjgPhLVH7AL5RHkwaaXvMfOFxjsFoNyvJ1wARBk0YwEDKclLGm-o3B5JwXqk/s2048/65569323356__0947EC5A-F79C-40D0-8FBA-57DE44C69FA4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZQfYs9t5nV6SHegsnkdO_lQhwOiKOTk2OG8LkmZIAycNH1mdYjYax-YUrGt7RvEnvTZmqq0LNxjgPhLVH7AL5RHkwaaXvMfOFxjsFoNyvJ1wARBk0YwEDKclLGm-o3B5JwXqk/s320/65569323356__0947EC5A-F79C-40D0-8FBA-57DE44C69FA4.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>But here we are, and remarkably, the sun is still shining. (Well, actually, it's not shining today. It turns out the weather is often pretty gray in Vermont.) The point is - the worst things that I thought to ever happen, are giving way to some pretty good things and I'm in constant awe of our children. Even from a grimy temporary rental where they're still in sleeping bags after 17 long weeks, the kids are the ones that are encouraging and inspiring me - every day - that <b><u>this</u></b> was the right thing to do. </p><p>(You might be surprised, I've had a few second thoughts.) </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPoAfI1357gv9dlo-QvwwE5mTKNLmJQ82A-wutR-b6Q9kKGKHoqXvxJBZjWJu06F7U0aDZyIpvIAyfAMuVXQoE-etgdcH4uvF1ld68yQDyn3SjOwIKR0C3bL5n9SYqXFKdEmq/s2048/IMG_0667+2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirPoAfI1357gv9dlo-QvwwE5mTKNLmJQ82A-wutR-b6Q9kKGKHoqXvxJBZjWJu06F7U0aDZyIpvIAyfAMuVXQoE-etgdcH4uvF1ld68yQDyn3SjOwIKR0C3bL5n9SYqXFKdEmq/s320/IMG_0667+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>So, we put the offer in on Sunday morning, and almost immediately, I was filled with regret which kept me up half the night, praying that they wouldn't accept it. Not only do we not have jobs yet (eh, minor detail!) the house is big and needs work. After living in a camper and tent for 12 weeks, it's extremely convicting just how <i>little</i> we actually need to live. Moreover, since 4/6 of our family will likely be moving out of the house within the next 5-10 years, I see no reason to go buy another big house like the one we just had. When we sold our 6-bedroom, 6-bathroom Texas house, we conveyed a lot of furniture - and all of the televisions (4!) - with the sale. We also donated at least 50% of our things to charity because we realized we do not need them and they just weigh us down.</p><p><i><b>These circumstances - this complete flip of our lives - is giving us such an incredible opportunity to take an inventory of everything from our material possessions, to where our energies and resources are spent, and wisely recalibrate. </b></i></p><p>In the words of Thoreau: Simplify. Simplify. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuw0ij7mo07zk-NVZY03k5GmQ7rs_6QoXK5SGHOQ87wWZOibm6JM2Drm1XbM5AMuzyTp2kWw7Kzd9uXybQ9s0ZorBKLDCbUcT-5GDvfFJDLdQeKDtelYwh4lc9pcHNH77E5bP7/s2048/IMG_0508.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuw0ij7mo07zk-NVZY03k5GmQ7rs_6QoXK5SGHOQ87wWZOibm6JM2Drm1XbM5AMuzyTp2kWw7Kzd9uXybQ9s0ZorBKLDCbUcT-5GDvfFJDLdQeKDtelYwh4lc9pcHNH77E5bP7/s320/IMG_0508.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>When we'd walked through the house last week, I immediately recognized that the family that lived there had young children. Toys were everywhere. Crayon scribbles on the wall. Little shoes and coats. My heart was tender remembering those days - it seems like only yesterday. </p><p>The offer that we put in on Sunday, expired yesterday which is good for me, because it reaffirmed that I really don't want to rush in to a purchase, and would rather take our time to get the right house. (And, confirm we can handle a Vermont winter!) Their realtor has since been communicating with our realtor that communication has been extremely difficult because the couple that lives in the house, are going through a divorce. While I know that there are circumstances in every situation, and sometimes divorce really is the right answer, it can be devastating and my thoughts are with the entire family. </p><p>While it's none of our business, in human fashion, Charlie and I surmised what could possibly be happening that led to the demise of the relationship. Parenting little people can be extremely taxing on a marriage. Add a big house that requires a lot of work, and the financial implications can be exhaustingly stressful. People likely have needs, or expectations that aren't fulfilled, and very soon - frustration, resentment and bitterness set in. Communication falters and things can unravel pretty quickly - a small split leads to a gaping chasm. </p><p>My mind then shifted to our own circumstances. </p><p>While the house that we're in right now isn't quite the vision that I had, the <b>family</b> that lives beneath this roof is everything and more than I could have ever imagined and I feel completely overwhelmed with gratitude. <i><b>So long as we have our health - and each other - we have everything that we could ever possibly need. </b></i> Charlie and I have been through some <i>extremely</i> difficult and trying times in our 30 year relationship, but there's no one I'd rather have by my side, in the trenches - praying - crying - sampling craft brew - and laughing with. <b>Thank goodness, mostly laughing. </b></p><p>As I told our realtor, Claire, that is exactly how we've managed the past several months. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHK1OHMDyfojMoTF5pJ1SDfesbVQkP3YJSyXedUd_LjtCTnZX39I2e8tASTIRn0maQ3SVe8G3nNTb-GmUClmI-y1Traw7yeo0GfIK5LZAhD0KQPfeSf4Grj2LTNS7jmBsvxj6/s2079/IMG_0791.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2079" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHK1OHMDyfojMoTF5pJ1SDfesbVQkP3YJSyXedUd_LjtCTnZX39I2e8tASTIRn0maQ3SVe8G3nNTb-GmUClmI-y1Traw7yeo0GfIK5LZAhD0KQPfeSf4Grj2LTNS7jmBsvxj6/s320/IMG_0791.PNG" width="148" /></a><p></p><p>When I'm with my husband and our children, <i>regardless of where we are </i>... I'm at home. And more than any kind of brick and mortar memories, these feelings of love, good food, blessed abundance, and laughter, are what I hope our children will tuck away in their hearts and carry with them throughout their own lives. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlb0Y0d2rlWAz2rfsWHsd4NfKHiqJ2o3NXXoY6QW2AdYsaJX5h5ZVKXIjs1ymJyN6Bk_2D2svOh-DTaHglrCSJDkt9FtoeDHryuqQ9phVHCh1xwqDwokIvmNWDH6DN-2Qrdfd/s2048/IMG_1446.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlb0Y0d2rlWAz2rfsWHsd4NfKHiqJ2o3NXXoY6QW2AdYsaJX5h5ZVKXIjs1ymJyN6Bk_2D2svOh-DTaHglrCSJDkt9FtoeDHryuqQ9phVHCh1xwqDwokIvmNWDH6DN-2Qrdfd/s320/IMG_1446.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>The house will come with time, of that I am certain. </p><p>As for now, we are so excited that the moving truck is supposed to arrive from Texas, tomorrow. It will be very nice to move off the floor and in to an actual bed, but the thing that I'm most looking forward to receiving is our table. While we've certainly made our camping gear work - I <i>cannot wait</i> to sit at an actual table with my family again! Ah, to think of the things we once took for granted. </p><p>#Perspective </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-15881267688167536862021-10-22T18:17:00.002-05:002021-10-22T18:17:22.463-05:00by way of an update<p>Charlie never reads my blog, but he read it last night before we went to sleep and he exclaimed, "JEN, that post [that I published yesterday] is so sad and depressing. Good Lord, I had no idea you felt that way!" </p><p>I just looked at him. </p><p><b><i>You had no idea? </i></b></p><p>So I asked, "<i>Do you not hear the words coming out of my mouth when I talk? Did you not sense all of my anxiety, or hear me saying over - and over - and over again how overwhelmed I felt; that something was broken inside and that eventually something had to give? Did you not hear my pleas for the past couple of years that I wanted off the crazy train - wanted to do something different - needed to get out of that psychotic over-achiever environment with our kids?" </i></p><p>He laughed and said, "Yeah, but I didn't know you were serious. Geez woman. You say a lot of things."</p><p>Ah, yes. I do say a lot of things. But even though Charlie didn't hear me ....</p><p><b>GOD DID AND NOW WE'RE IN VERMONT, HALLELUJAH!</b></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgPSyVIlakoCvttgZNd5WbFpzTeL-7n8LXohwZa8MjfVGcCSXvL3d_k7kAC-BD_UkrUMF6Qq25u-b7iJ1_mb_Y4l2hDFZIoZOJRfJL3dl483mY3STKmXxZGOnNJXNg6P9u6fQ/s2048/IMG_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgPSyVIlakoCvttgZNd5WbFpzTeL-7n8LXohwZa8MjfVGcCSXvL3d_k7kAC-BD_UkrUMF6Qq25u-b7iJ1_mb_Y4l2hDFZIoZOJRfJL3dl483mY3STKmXxZGOnNJXNg6P9u6fQ/s320/IMG_0520.JPG" width="240" /></a></p><p>And for a significantly less depressing update, which makes me feel that ALL of the trials and tribulations we've endured over the past few years, and especially the past three months, has not been in vain: despite the horrific year that Carolyn had last year in math, and failing her summer school class over the summer .... today her mid-semester grades came out and she has straight A's (and <u>one</u> B). </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4OFH7a4JbZ9XaTGg74xWIga-bAX7y0RpmQoeRU2r1htjanZRsylI0QncAF_sFtabGN2d2K_Vsefbuww-t7eesVumHj4PO7Y_2Ri9ljZnU36_kbEacH6ThDL9E88XQYomI5Rj/s2048/IMG_0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc4OFH7a4JbZ9XaTGg74xWIga-bAX7y0RpmQoeRU2r1htjanZRsylI0QncAF_sFtabGN2d2K_Vsefbuww-t7eesVumHj4PO7Y_2Ri9ljZnU36_kbEacH6ThDL9E88XQYomI5Rj/s320/IMG_0601.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>In fact, all four of the kids are <b>crushing</b> it in school. </p><p>Even though she didn't pass her summer school class - it turns out that in Vermont, it doesn't matter. Not one iota. The entire academic philosophy at their high school - which is ranked #1 in the state and even <i>surpasses </i>their high school in Texas, is so refreshingly different. Her counselors are not at all plussed about her grade in geometry and are confident that she will not only graduate on time, but have the option of college: if she so chooses. <b>High school isn't life or death here. </b> Kids aren't measured on how many AP classes they are taking - but how well rounded and <i><u>kind</u></i> they are. </p><p>And this just <b><u><i>feels</i></u></b> right. </p><p>When we lived in Fairfax, Virginia, we read story after story about teenagers that were so stressed out at school and in life expectations, that they opted to end their young lives by laying on the tracks of the Metro. Soon after we moved to Texas, I read the story of a young woman who had committed suicide because she was afraid she wouldn't graduate in the top 10% of her class - and miss the opportunity to attend UT (The University of Texas). </p><p>At some cellular level, I think I've known that we had to get away from those big city environments, with the incredible stress of win-win-win ... perform-perform-perform that not only permeates the adults and drives them to the brink of exhaustion - but infiltrates the kids, too. While it's great to see kids succeed, the pressure is just too intense. My heart absolutely breaks at the thought of it, and the kids who would leave suicide notes confessing that if this is how difficult life is as a teenager - they don't want to live to be an adult. Yes, something is broken in our society, indeed. </p><p>Aside from academics, Carolyn is <b><i>thriving</i></b> in this environment. Despite being an incredible introvert, she decided that she was going to turn a new leaf in her new school. Much to our amazement, she opted to run for a position on student council. And that is how, the second week of school she stood up in front of a room full of people she didn't know - let them know how she was going to bring her leadership skills from scouting to the school - and asked that they please consider voting for her. </p><p>They did. </p><p><b>And, she won. </b></p><p>The second week of school, she scored a coveted spot on student council. And the fourth week of school, she landed a spot in the school play. This past week, she was out rowing with an outstanding coach, and collegiate rower, who has connections all over the globe and wants to work with Carolyn to form a youth program in northern Vermont: <b>for fun! </b> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnhSoLsfL9MV8o8ZZfPJ3M_r_uiTbRNy-k4Cr6JaSB00SQ3qfDAqFbTKamzBw6B63q5i4MLfmTtJifqdWPd7tDqDwGRzWSmpUs-5dlY4G8_kWPPxp27-oT38Lf6Y2VcGDQ3kq/s2048/IMG_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnhSoLsfL9MV8o8ZZfPJ3M_r_uiTbRNy-k4Cr6JaSB00SQ3qfDAqFbTKamzBw6B63q5i4MLfmTtJifqdWPd7tDqDwGRzWSmpUs-5dlY4G8_kWPPxp27-oT38Lf6Y2VcGDQ3kq/s320/IMG_0707.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>OUR GIRL!!! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9qKk5eCCoGgk_B5YQ5nKIkA-IBVXV9qSqN-sqJh0-ny01nM_FDXUYI6SYwbNs2wOvTeDdQaFZkgiPy_C8rBt7xUTWYGM2jM-NHeMXzP4Hqwdzx73v2cUPNENouT33A7Sx4Vk/s2048/IMG_0719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF9qKk5eCCoGgk_B5YQ5nKIkA-IBVXV9qSqN-sqJh0-ny01nM_FDXUYI6SYwbNs2wOvTeDdQaFZkgiPy_C8rBt7xUTWYGM2jM-NHeMXzP4Hqwdzx73v2cUPNENouT33A7Sx4Vk/s320/IMG_0719.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>To see her (and her siblings!) THRIVING here makes everything worthwhile. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-r8kJVETFASIEy6LyF20KbgdpyEo9uAG7CK4_hFVj2t535ATGr9pH-hOkmnf_HmyeKNbeQTfMta5xoNSwyk3DACcXPlEmQ1a-lVXF8MAuxcMtb9A5a4STNg4zNNuoawv9X1g/s2048/IMG_0497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4-r8kJVETFASIEy6LyF20KbgdpyEo9uAG7CK4_hFVj2t535ATGr9pH-hOkmnf_HmyeKNbeQTfMta5xoNSwyk3DACcXPlEmQ1a-lVXF8MAuxcMtb9A5a4STNg4zNNuoawv9X1g/s320/IMG_0497.JPG" width="320" /></a></p><p>Because in my book, <i><u>that's</u></i> what it's <b>all</b> about. </p>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24756113.post-43421767338455880612021-10-21T14:25:00.003-05:002021-10-21T14:49:02.353-05:00the Maine point: ask and ye shall receive (but you better be absolutely sure you know what you're asking for!) <div>We had been on the road for five weeks, and were in Ogunquit, Maine. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghh0TAkuPsmRsA0m33cz-DUaV0ZG5-WnkbsbtfK_q5kPhDcxi_o-tm1lCX4C3C5ifHgIJJJ5fxs5TIYoEFyWAV13e3o6qr15jSkbBuUDe3jKS-H2JtQBvsgzv6NvaQ2W2XPVCz/s2048/IMG_0953.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghh0TAkuPsmRsA0m33cz-DUaV0ZG5-WnkbsbtfK_q5kPhDcxi_o-tm1lCX4C3C5ifHgIJJJ5fxs5TIYoEFyWAV13e3o6qr15jSkbBuUDe3jKS-H2JtQBvsgzv6NvaQ2W2XPVCz/s320/IMG_0953.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div><div> </div><div>The plan was that evening, we would meet with two of my colleagues from work for dinner, at one of their homes, in York. The next day, we would make the final leg of our travels north, and drive to Acadia National Park before looping back through New Hampshire and Vermont on the way back to Texas. </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkikYQ3OzW58pct-EjH_5a6q_v-y1Mv0SCfDWbrgqI4xH54W1jabIt0WLwTJkq45qVbXRYHG0eKYR2Ru59vKs1b0UJBjAfAtH4hi2jKpWQdZXPm8fMSiYOGhnadLVJ3Mh0My0/s2048/IMG_0954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkikYQ3OzW58pct-EjH_5a6q_v-y1Mv0SCfDWbrgqI4xH54W1jabIt0WLwTJkq45qVbXRYHG0eKYR2Ru59vKs1b0UJBjAfAtH4hi2jKpWQdZXPm8fMSiYOGhnadLVJ3Mh0My0/s320/IMG_0954.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><div> </div><div>Acadia had long been on our bucket list to visit. The previous summer, we had made it to the tip-top <i><u>northwestern</u></i> corner of the country to visit Olympic National Park. When we had pulled our plans together for the summer of 2021, making our way to the tip-top <i><u>northeastern</u></i> corner of the country to visit Acadia National Park was a must-do. </div><div> <br /></div>It was a Sunday morning and we only had <u>one day</u> to explore the quaint little seaside town. But Carolyn had not passed her second semester of math in 10th grade, and was in an online summer school class - begrudgingly completing her assignments and taking tests on material that was extremely difficult for her to comprehend. She'd had a miserable time with math the second semester in online school; taking it again, online, during summer school was even <b>worse</b>. The material seemed to be even more difficult to grasp the second time around, and while everyone else was enjoying vacation days - Carolyn had to work on her math. It was the perfect concoction for teenage misery. <div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG8PVdU7SnGn7fSxU6rhxSs5P3PofH0dnzkEPdLvKDM5yV_5kIoLyKPnBN7OqH8fTTmYKYGLS386Ocx1AXTBZ9zxYrpF7yLhc-8ePS5W0aI0JM3rdu4KZIeLpmxJp5Vr9ZmOd/s2048/IMG_0682+3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1943" data-original-width="2048" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG8PVdU7SnGn7fSxU6rhxSs5P3PofH0dnzkEPdLvKDM5yV_5kIoLyKPnBN7OqH8fTTmYKYGLS386Ocx1AXTBZ9zxYrpF7yLhc-8ePS5W0aI0JM3rdu4KZIeLpmxJp5Vr9ZmOd/s320/IMG_0682+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div>On this particular day, my objective was to go visit the town, but Carolyn needed to get caught up on several assignments that she had neglected to turn in, because she struggled with how to do them (vicious cycle) and were late. She also needed to retake a few tests for a higher grade - and the clock was ticking. <b>Thump, thump, thump</b> Marissa Tomei, a la "My Cousin Vinny" style ticking. </div><div><br /></div><div>If she didn't complete the class with a passing grade within the next ten days, she would fail it again and would be required to take it a third time, during her junior year ... in <i>addition</i> to the math that she would be taking in 11th grade. Per the guidance counselor, if she planned to graduate on time - she had to do it this way. Math was never my strong suit in high school, so I could totally relate to her despair and hopelessness, and yet, I was frustrated. She needed more perseverance, I needed more patience. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Neither was happening. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Stepping back and looking at the situation, I see that it was a <i><u>bad</u></i> parenting decision putting her in an online summer school. She should have been enrolled for the in-person session, but that class would have interfered with the family's summer plans since it spanned the time that we would be gone on the trip. I was annoyed, bordering resentful it had gotten to this point. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JSZZB6cPoG7fN3FrgAyKmJkE2LJl3fmayRRMuJceUSK8xfWDKh9JQzNeKN2Fr3enXgM1lec53iqF6T2-sp7StmMtvDSXIOb_UZsb-Rpdszgcc57sGYk-QHU8QNOT-bQ85sIt/s2048/IMG_0971.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JSZZB6cPoG7fN3FrgAyKmJkE2LJl3fmayRRMuJceUSK8xfWDKh9JQzNeKN2Fr3enXgM1lec53iqF6T2-sp7StmMtvDSXIOb_UZsb-Rpdszgcc57sGYk-QHU8QNOT-bQ85sIt/s320/IMG_0971.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div> </div><div>On closer inspection, I wasn't resentful just at Carolyn for failing math, but more so at myself that I wasn't a better parent to support her throughout the year of online schooling, and now with summer school. Why couldn't I go help my one lost sheep? </div><div> </div><div><i>Where was my mercy?<br /></i></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-E9nMIZ7rbl60QmM-oNorxSCrky_2MxCF_NIp5zO1OS32Qkl_l8pK4RRkQiQ2C-Io6iakA3tnIdTBZmO4FTEzOy4BIqCzQCvNlX2PB6kaG9G9-zpgmynfMJEJ7ourDOrSpIbV/s2048/IMG_1070.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-E9nMIZ7rbl60QmM-oNorxSCrky_2MxCF_NIp5zO1OS32Qkl_l8pK4RRkQiQ2C-Io6iakA3tnIdTBZmO4FTEzOy4BIqCzQCvNlX2PB6kaG9G9-zpgmynfMJEJ7ourDOrSpIbV/s320/IMG_1070.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div> </div><div>That day in Ogunquit, Charlie being the consistently more patient parent than me, decided that he would remain in the camper with Carolyn and work on math all day, while I took the other kids in to town for sight seeing and a lobster lunch. It was such a beautiful day, the sun was shining - the birds were chirping - and I was cloaked in anger because <b><u>this</u></b> wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, damn it. ARGH! <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Several hours later, we returned, and Charlie and Carolyn had wrapped up two lessons on math. There were still five more to do. And then the retest. And then the cumulative final. But they were done for the day, and wanted to ride their bikes in to town with the family. Logical choice when you are a logical person. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><i>But I didn't want to go. </i></div><div><i> </i></div><div>Instead of embracing the opportunity to enjoy the day and go for a bike ride with my family in a beautiful town, I was simmering that <b>more</b> math wasn't finished. This class would continue to hang over our heads and more days of truncating our summer vacation activities and splitting the family up would happen. To add insult to injury, I likely wasted hundreds of dollars on a summer school class that wouldn't count. Next year, we would endure more stress as Carolyn (and by extension, me and Charlie) would have to double up in math. There would be costly tutors and more hammering to do work she didn't want to do, I was sure of it. <br /></div><div> </div><div>Pending how math the junior year goes, there's a very strong potential that she would have a delay in graduation for lack of credits. The thousands of highly motivated and better parentally-encouraged kids in The Woodlands were surpassing her in the class ranking. The distinct possibility was starting to emerge that she'll never go to college. Never have the ability to support herself. Live at home forever. Charlie and I will both die of equilateral trianglitis and who will help Carolyn? <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Down and down trapped in a tangled web of despair I shall go. </i></div><div><i> </i></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71zJ6wH9MdVLpiJM-YfWegyNfK7P5Y1W-rh6G_7OPjrDDcZI0xaqcNI6YuDa8msd73nLPt0lYdxVRJorVK8H-3DY3oeigOPiWeOQ-hn9nAva1sjU8XRgPzry5c_NgX_7BhfT8/s1136/IMG_0990.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71zJ6wH9MdVLpiJM-YfWegyNfK7P5Y1W-rh6G_7OPjrDDcZI0xaqcNI6YuDa8msd73nLPt0lYdxVRJorVK8H-3DY3oeigOPiWeOQ-hn9nAva1sjU8XRgPzry5c_NgX_7BhfT8/s320/IMG_0990.png" width="180" /></a></div><div><div>Not even for a moment did I contemplate how incredible of a young woman she is, how kind - and gentle - and compassionate. How absolutely BRILLIANT her mind is, when it is positively engaged, interested, and encouraged. Nor did I recall the fact that some kids (both of her parents, in fact) were late bloomers in
school - neither Charlie nor I got any traction with particularly good grades until college. Nonetheless, I subjected myself to all kinds of mothering guilt and hindsight
torment because of the problems my 16-year old was having in one class. </div><div> </div><div>ONE CLASS. </div></div><div> </div><div>It's amazing how stress can make you lose all perspective. <br /></div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzRiHbO0KMgI0hUVGEmiQm8ur0xbfStJS-uffFk21YxiEeuWh0H22o6z1JvE4xHJsackdAjWQG_Y71KzR6sBodWKgfsr3Wqli3V-hSBAedLL2HkzHlbhrReOW-xAbIIZ5on76/s1136/IMG_1053.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzRiHbO0KMgI0hUVGEmiQm8ur0xbfStJS-uffFk21YxiEeuWh0H22o6z1JvE4xHJsackdAjWQG_Y71KzR6sBodWKgfsr3Wqli3V-hSBAedLL2HkzHlbhrReOW-xAbIIZ5on76/s320/IMG_1053.png" width="180" /></a> <br /></div><div> </div><div>And yet, I was mad. <i>Spitting mad.</i> But as mad as I was at all of those potential outcomes, I knew in my heart that I was the most mad at myself that I was not being more patient with my teenage daughter who <b>needed</b> me to reassure her, and give her the tools - time - opportunities - that she required to be successful. I knew better and yet could not stop myself. </div><p>Alas, on that day in Ogunquit, I kept beating myself up with thoughts including: <i>Why did I ever go back to work? </i>Surely she'd be a better mathematician
if I devoted more time to helping her learn her numbers and sort blocks and was home everyday waiting when she got off the bus to help her navigate her homework and schedule. <i>Why didn't I let the children finish Montessori? </i>Surely she would have had more
academic prowess if I'd just kept her in the program until Kindergarten.
<i>Why did we home school her in eighth grade? </i>That was a colossal fail. Charlie was too distracted and laid back and I let work rule my life. <i>Why did I sign her up for online summer school? </i> Why - why - why? <i> </i><br /></p><p>There was no denying it: my bad choices had hijacked her life and I'd never forgive myself for it. <br /></p>Charlie and the kids rode in to town and I stayed behind, tidying up the mess, (why is there always a hot mess??) and stewing in my unfulfilled expectations and mothering failures. <div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9W50XnbOfXYP6Li_ZCLRQfo-rhwqWNq86eEv20kf4QIX4uysGe9p7jv8qfpnRbSy9udo_9i7dwC_umt97aQVHg7uHoXlc6Td6mgG4mUNgnE5tvX_HDrVACUJzNb32dahgXflH/s2048/IMG_1029.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9W50XnbOfXYP6Li_ZCLRQfo-rhwqWNq86eEv20kf4QIX4uysGe9p7jv8qfpnRbSy9udo_9i7dwC_umt97aQVHg7uHoXlc6Td6mgG4mUNgnE5tvX_HDrVACUJzNb32dahgXflH/s320/IMG_1029.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>That evening, we went to my friend's house. We put on our happy faces. We had dinner. We came back. The next morning, my friends came to visit us and see Quarantinny before we made our way north. When I said goodbye, I hugged them and told my one friend who was visiting from Texas, I'd see her in August, when we were all back home. The kids started school on the 11th. We'd be home by the 5th. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then we hitched up and drove north to Acadia National Park. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5R6-NW9v4lrsAl9GfloN4L65ndKrArKvAXk515jknNxBppDcrVnLvHdK8C9Pg6LaAsMDUqu4k0X1hC4lws3LREPqk2vDAol7hM5qUwXYWBwvlIcdKvPvr0frq_K_oUxy0Zpzw/s2048/IMG_1177.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5R6-NW9v4lrsAl9GfloN4L65ndKrArKvAXk515jknNxBppDcrVnLvHdK8C9Pg6LaAsMDUqu4k0X1hC4lws3LREPqk2vDAol7hM5qUwXYWBwvlIcdKvPvr0frq_K_oUxy0Zpzw/s320/IMG_1177.jpg" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What was supposed to be a wonderful drive - with us blissfully looking out the window at the passing northeast Atlantic landscape - was punctuated with teenagers bickering. Get your feet off my seat. Don't touch my headphones. Stop looking at me. Nobody wants to watch that stupid movie, duh. Why are you breathing so loud? I'm trying to meditate and just let it all pass like the rising and falling waves on a beach, but like a volcano, I can feel the magma rising. Bubbling to the top and hot. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpDLbrP7wJ3GMkFN7-9uTuOBefwXmdAZKMsigAk4ppOJED6wLSzfoRdAtU8f0R-67Cai-z12KNBHlzzXIo1Euj7-r-In_CtoUnidaPY73R_hvKpndArFVDkZc8Zjbza9BGHBL/s2048/IMG_1074.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwpDLbrP7wJ3GMkFN7-9uTuOBefwXmdAZKMsigAk4ppOJED6wLSzfoRdAtU8f0R-67Cai-z12KNBHlzzXIo1Euj7-r-In_CtoUnidaPY73R_hvKpndArFVDkZc8Zjbza9BGHBL/s320/IMG_1074.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>In between my deep relaxation techniques (none of which were clearly working very well), I'm shooting glances back to Carolyn, telling her to work on her math. What are you working on, now? How many questions have you finished? <i>Do you understand it? </i></div><div><br /></div><div>The opposite of helpful - <b>I KNOW. </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>But ... what's the alternative at this point?! <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We stopped for lunch at Red's Eats. A MUST-STOP everyone told us, on the way north. They have the best lobster rolls in the entire state of Maine and by extension, obviously - the universe. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4kshqYUeNbfabE-5aF5E1N9LoBVaOKr2Ffl-iMfYuvkgmHTbi1kNKmiKFJ7xzTzwysD-q8ZSUgggwdibFfHNwk-3WIqV7RdWAiuprVeRg0JV80Yei1h7T6uJbyoPkielCyIO/s2048/IMG_0911.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia4kshqYUeNbfabE-5aF5E1N9LoBVaOKr2Ffl-iMfYuvkgmHTbi1kNKmiKFJ7xzTzwysD-q8ZSUgggwdibFfHNwk-3WIqV7RdWAiuprVeRg0JV80Yei1h7T6uJbyoPkielCyIO/s320/IMG_0911.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>Since Charlie and Carolyn had missed lobster the day prior, and I could eat lobster for the rest of my life - we stopped. The line went up the block and around the building. Also, they only took cash, and the nearest ATM was nearly a mile away. Do we sacrifice the parking spot that we'd just found to drive to the bank, or do we walk? </div><div><br /></div><div>William and Henry had just gotten in to an altercation, which was very rare for the boys who are typically great friends, but I suspected had something to do with close quarters and the awesome vibe I was throwing off. (Mother guilt for the win - again!) Much to their chagrin, I nominated the boys to walk with me to the bank. WHY ME? WHY MUST I GO? Why don't you bring the girls? </div><div><br /></div><div>Bicker. Bicker. Bicker. </div><div><br /></div><div>My decision that the boys would be the ones to come with me, was only solidified the more they pushed back. And so it is, Charlie stayed behind with the girls and the dog in line - and I ventured off with my two glowering boys in tow. We meandered through the streets of town. We found the ATM. We meandered all the way back. By that point, we'd had a chance to talk about the importance of family ties and brotherhood, friends come and go - but siblings are forever. The boys made amends and were amicable surely for my sake.</div><div> </div><div>By the time we returned, an hour later, the line had barely moved. We were told it could be another 2-3 hours to place an order. We eyed the other lobster shack on the opposite side of the road, and split up. Whomever got to the front first would order. We had another four hours of driving before us and despite missing out on the "Best thing in Maine!" we didn't have all day to wait. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBGemEYUuJuQ9GmytaJ1Pbkh_73xmM0GhTOus_aLk2CEGkp2PBZnJNNqb9mrWAUxSCn-GY1I_YCbo26qFjsJe3mMeRQsdub-uyTRUT4v3w_UO7OrovLr8_kKWrQxxPAGNW06m/s2048/IMG_0914.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBGemEYUuJuQ9GmytaJ1Pbkh_73xmM0GhTOus_aLk2CEGkp2PBZnJNNqb9mrWAUxSCn-GY1I_YCbo26qFjsJe3mMeRQsdub-uyTRUT4v3w_UO7OrovLr8_kKWrQxxPAGNW06m/s320/IMG_0914.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div></div><div> </div><div>After another 90 minutes, the line on the opposite side of the street got to place the order first. After shelling out over $400 for lunch, and feeling extremely frustrated that: </div><div><br /></div><div>1) We waited that long for a lobster roll that we could literally get ANYWHERE in Maine; </div><div><br /></div><div>2) We were sucked in to the tourist trap thinking this was something we must do (but then didn't even actually do because we didn't want to wait all day!) </div><div><br /></div><div>3) We spent an exorbitant amount of money for something we could make ourselves, for a FRACTION of the cost. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9O-1zsKUYtSeCbikN4zLB2p-4Eldf3YyqpRzthKQtDdAnqiutmnc8paAqVcK6NQnogmvg_N5lp7bCgPkBcGIP4-zUedtusfsyzg_tN6piqWtxULvy2kNrduGeXzVz1JbFVxK/s2048/IMG_0932.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc9O-1zsKUYtSeCbikN4zLB2p-4Eldf3YyqpRzthKQtDdAnqiutmnc8paAqVcK6NQnogmvg_N5lp7bCgPkBcGIP4-zUedtusfsyzg_tN6piqWtxULvy2kNrduGeXzVz1JbFVxK/s320/IMG_0932.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div> </div><div>After a disappointing lunch, we hit the road again. Driving past scores and scores of lobster shacks with NO lines which I called out each time we passed. THERE'S ANOTHER ONE. YAY EVERYONE LOOK! So much fun! What a wonderful family vacation with everyone bickering and mom lamenting about the money she spent on overpriced lobster rolls taking breaks only to yell at Gracie to practice her Geometry! Enabling the childproof features, I locked the doors for fear that the kids would throw themselves out of the moving car. Or, open the door and push me out. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We drove for several more hours, and needed to make a stop at the grocery store for some critical items. It was getting dark so I wanted to run in and out, quickly. A couple years ago, all four kids would have jumped at the chance to help me shop - especially if I promised I'd buy them something. This year, despite the lure of a treat - they wanted to stay in the car. <i>"Wait, where are you going to be mom? In the store? OK, we'll stay here. But if you're going to be here - sure, we'll go in the store! Let's shop!" </i><br /></div><div> </div><div>I dragged along William, that understandably was a bit resistant in that moment to help his mother, who by all accounts, was on the verge of going completely OFF the rails. I told him in a commandeering tone that we would divide and conquer so we could get out of the store and to the campsite and set up in the remaining daylight. He was annoyed and probably scared. </div><div> </div><div>You might not believe it, but I was even more so. Not just because the kids were making my head and heart hurt with the bickering <i>(what if I just collapsed from an aneurysm?)</i> - but because the store was dismally stocked. The one thing they had in surplus were packs of rolls for $0.50 that we'd just had our $80 lobster roll sandwiches on. ARGH! <br /></div><div> </div><div>It looked like there had been a run and shelves were disorganized and barren. We were standing in the baking aisle. I was looking for something, walnuts, maybe - I can't recall exactly, but I know that they were a critical ingredient to something I was preparing. High and low we searched, up and down the aisle, and WE COULD NOT FIND THE NUTS. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, I asked William to go ask for help because <b><i>time is of the essence</i></b>. He rolled his eyes, sighed deeply, and slunked off. A few minutes later, he returned, with a tone in his voice that any parent of teenagers would immediately recognize and recoil at. When you're teetering on the brink, it was even worse to hear, <i>"Mom. There is no one to help and even if there was, they probably don't know where the nuts are - so let's just leave. Right now. OK? Let's go. This is such a waste of time." </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Instead of taking a deep breath, and letting the moment pass, a blob of magma spewed out and I snapped at him, <i>"Why must you be such an ass?"</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>We've never really talked to our kids like that and William looked shocked - and hurt. Every siren and alarm in my mothering body was going off, <b>"WOOP! WOOP! Cap the flow! Cap the flow!"</b> but I ignored the alarms and more lava spewed out. <i>"You kids can be so useless. Heaven forbid I ask you for ANY help. I'll find them, myself." </i></div><div><i> </i> <br /></div><div>You know it's bad when the awful words keep spilling out and you don't even try to stop them. <br /></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><i>"You just keep standing there and do nothing. OKAY?" </i></i></div><div><i><i><br /></i></i></div><div><i><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmIDF-U5XvAvBmPuQtmFk627zPhxtDQrv3gM3MOIuNLtUlwsaosukGWZ67AOPVzlPWlOGsZZkT5uGgV6EYtvBwCni7RwmrzY4W8wYz4VbBv7CAHbDRNJ_Ahu7KNtE6MPw1UfN/s2048/IMG_0945.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmIDF-U5XvAvBmPuQtmFk627zPhxtDQrv3gM3MOIuNLtUlwsaosukGWZ67AOPVzlPWlOGsZZkT5uGgV6EYtvBwCni7RwmrzY4W8wYz4VbBv7CAHbDRNJ_Ahu7KNtE6MPw1UfN/s320/IMG_0945.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></i></div><div> </div><div>Finding a clerk, I asked where I could find the critical ingredient. They led me to them, I picked up the bag - glared at my son - and checked out at the front. Shaking off any chivalrous offers of help from him I carried all the bags to the car. Without the cart they dangled from my arms turning my limbs purple and making my hands go numb ... but as a world-champion martyr, I <b>welcomed</b> the pain. We drove to the camp, we set up, and by the time I went to bed - I'd spoken no more than 10 words, slaying my family with my agitated silence. <br /></div><div> </div><div><i>Why was I angry again? </i> I couldn't exactly remember, but even though people might know they should STOP when they're lost in the wild, how often it happens that they just keep wandering in, deeper and deeper until they veer off a cliff and perish. These woods were so deep and dark and I had no idea which way was up, or how to get out.<br /></div><div> <br /></div>Early the next morning, I had conference calls. Every week day while we're traveling I have conference calls; usually from 6 or 7 AM until at least noon. On this particular day, I was planning to work a half day so that we could go for a bike ride around the park. But things that were supposed to only take me a few hours - wound up taking more time, and then more work activities came in that had a quick-turn around, so my time with the family was pushed back more. <div> </div><div>The family pressure was mounting - I felt guilty for being such a crank with them - and the work pressure was also mounting that even though I was getting every thing done that I needed to do (and then some) I wanted to diffuse any potential perception that I was not productive or was wasting time. In the strive for perfection, I worked myself to the brink of exhaustion - <i>constantly. </i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NLBvfaHr0zy8SA7A1HREibTzm3TxplxZOH-Kn8UOGHlLyH5qH_zaGSGi8b83ZuaAnaqxi9TvnrXhnDO3AzYsFuaJF3bVHaj2mgnzXOTwOzaGWcm-kmRA3WOn5hrBap3oVXeg/s2048/IMG_0974.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NLBvfaHr0zy8SA7A1HREibTzm3TxplxZOH-Kn8UOGHlLyH5qH_zaGSGi8b83ZuaAnaqxi9TvnrXhnDO3AzYsFuaJF3bVHaj2mgnzXOTwOzaGWcm-kmRA3WOn5hrBap3oVXeg/s320/IMG_0974.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>Charlie was trying to coordinate our bike riding schedule and at some point, around 10:00 AM, the plug on the volcano blew and I lost my ever living mind. Quarantinny shaked with my rage; kids ran out of the camper and to the other side of the campground. Every bit of magma came out of the chamber. If it was a true volcanic eruption, it would have been <a href="https://pubs.usgs.gov/gip/volc/eruptions.html">plinian</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Carolyn's struggles with math. Elizabeth's running coach that was laying on intense heat that she needed to be back in Texas that week, if she wanted to race with the varsity team. William's snarkiness. Henry's sneakiness. Too much screen time. Too many distractions and busyness. I'm supposed to be happy but am an angry martyr. Work pressures. Juggling all these critical life priorities and trying to bring my best self to everything I do for ExxonMobil. </div><div> </div><div>Too fast that time is going by, like rapid fire - swirling past - kids will be licensed soon, we need to get another car or two. I need to work <b>even harder</b> to prove my value and worth, and keep my job, thereby making as much money as possible so that I can pay for the new cars - and college - and a new master bathroom - and all the things that signal and deliver (???) a successful life, while ensuring Charlie and I are secure in our retirement. </div><div> </div><div>Fear. Fear. Fear. </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvESKHzNDopOLVaTqB-dHeRDWVIfZe4n-V1UeG5WXB8RsUshkNzCG71BLPhcDfGVqfZJPpWIRtkXh5aggTNPAbfyXyYj8LR-LaY5NLw0EcIK-J7e6QyrFuZ8GEXHnxDPCX23e6/s2048/IMG_1041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvESKHzNDopOLVaTqB-dHeRDWVIfZe4n-V1UeG5WXB8RsUshkNzCG71BLPhcDfGVqfZJPpWIRtkXh5aggTNPAbfyXyYj8LR-LaY5NLw0EcIK-J7e6QyrFuZ8GEXHnxDPCX23e6/s320/IMG_1041.jpg" width="320" /></a> <br /></div><div> </div><div><i> <b>IT WAS ALL FEAR.</b> </i></div><div> </div><div>Fear that I wasn't good enough on any front. Fear that I was failing everyone, myself most of all. Fear that we wouldn't have enough money for all the things we wanted to do or needed to do. Fear that the kids are all growing up and will be gone soon and why must life go so fast, and why can't I just relax and enjoy this moment? Why am I holding on to <i><b>everything</b></i> so tightly? <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>What the hell is wrong with me?! </i></b></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Deep in the woods I was so lost. Regret looking back, anxiety looking forward, teetering on the edge. </div><div> </div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJvY4H2GCzHc1UJ6zT7oHqMjwJGbaS4_5WruJareVq4L1B788T49W7wntuQjbclpr7QYW9fI3Y-c-_NtrbV5N0VJAOFSoyaWWr7IlQJSKpUfVeUqn3emHHSM9YDIbQOghffV/s2048/IMG_1056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJvY4H2GCzHc1UJ6zT7oHqMjwJGbaS4_5WruJareVq4L1B788T49W7wntuQjbclpr7QYW9fI3Y-c-_NtrbV5N0VJAOFSoyaWWr7IlQJSKpUfVeUqn3emHHSM9YDIbQOghffV/s320/IMG_1056.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div>Like a blown out caldera, my energy was gone and I was left feeling completely depleted and deformed. I tried apologizing, but couldn't comprehend what I was apologizing for - so I could only say, <i>"I'm sorry I'm such a nightmare. I feel so broken and I don't know how to fix it. I honestly don't understand what is wrong with me it's like I'm lost in the wild and should stop and be rescued - but keep going in deeper and deeper. Please have patience with me, I'm trying to re-orient my map." </i> My beautiful family embraced me in tight hugs and reassured me that it was okay - they forgave me. I wept. <br /></div><div> </div><div>Charlie and William packed up the bicycles and we went for a ride around the breathtakingly beautiful Schoodic Peninsula. I was still feeling depleted, and yet - I could sense that there was still a latent anger. The slightest thing could trip me off, again. My simmering rage was terrifyingly disturbing. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAgxiRcWrybX-TRO6fLbogwCqes43cf_5YjMnjSYDBWeyttleogMaX8rc2IpARknGrlp-R1jUuee5eWZxQAfieNTIO8m2euqyKI8CpJzl5sEVNk5UDm29oW2_KGsuG8wSlDEr/s2048/IMG_1167.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAgxiRcWrybX-TRO6fLbogwCqes43cf_5YjMnjSYDBWeyttleogMaX8rc2IpARknGrlp-R1jUuee5eWZxQAfieNTIO8m2euqyKI8CpJzl5sEVNk5UDm29oW2_KGsuG8wSlDEr/s320/IMG_1167.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div> As I pedaled, I prayed to God like I haven't prayed since I asked to be a mom. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>"Dear God. PLEASE HELP ME. Please give me a sign. Please free up my life and let me be the best person, wife and mother I can be. Please grant me the wisdom to recognize an opportunity when it comes and please grant me the courage to take it. Please remove the burdens so that I can fully love these people that you have blessed me with, as best as I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can." </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Less than a week later, I received the call from ExxonMobil that I was ranked in the "NSI: Need Significant Improvement" category. Despite all the incredibly hard work, excellent deliverables, and soul-wrenching sacrifices I'd made over the past year, it happened. The worst thing that could have ever happened in my career at ExxonMobil and with NO forewarning. Just a few months earlier, my managers had told me that I was a rock star and bringing awesome value to the corporation. And now <u><i>this</i></u> which made absolutely no sense? Although it wasn't a termination - it was the closest thing and it was such a crushing blow to my ego and spirit because from my perspective - it wasn't just about my performance at work. <i><b> </b></i></div><div><i><b> </b></i></div><div><i><b>It was about my performance in life. </b></i></div><div> </div><div>I'd later hear that it was a numbers game. They had to put someone in the lowest rank. They didn't think I'd leave; at 50 with four kids I was a low flight risk. I really was a highly valued resource. </div><div> </div><div>But on that morning, when I closed my eyes to digest what was being said to me by my managers, the voice that I heard was overwhelmingly, powerfully strong and I knew to the core of my being that there was no mistaking it. </div><div> </div><div><b><i>Hey there Jen! It's ME! Remember how you asked for help? You wanted a sign? </i></b></div><div><i> </i></div><div><i>BOOM. HERE'S YOUR SIGN. <br /></i></div><div><i> </i> <br /></div><div><i><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyByQ4psRD3H53x6ml_UU0y3IXy0fYaX-xMk1OshMt7R2-eF1ahCsmZLCCkOTayBWxyiYq4EZFUuPtjagGkSS2GCW6-8N8clfwhQyokz0N5F9V1VjYpGDlYNy4HqeXhX2XCVOk/s855/IMG_0741.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="855" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyByQ4psRD3H53x6ml_UU0y3IXy0fYaX-xMk1OshMt7R2-eF1ahCsmZLCCkOTayBWxyiYq4EZFUuPtjagGkSS2GCW6-8N8clfwhQyokz0N5F9V1VjYpGDlYNy4HqeXhX2XCVOk/s320/IMG_0741.jpg" width="320" /></a></i> <br /></i></div><div> </div><div>Turns out that despite all that FEAR baggage I'd packed and had been dragging around with me, somewhere hidden deep in that baggage was the tiniest mustard seed of faith. And that tiniest seed of faith is <b>exactly</b> what I needed to nurture, so that it could grow and completely overtake my existence. </div><div> </div><div>Thankfully, it took root pretty fast and gave me the courage I needed to realize I had been on the wrong train and needed to get off it, immediately. Not only did I need to resign from ExxonMobil and sell our Texas house, but we needed to get our entire family to a different environment - <i>this environment. </i> </div><div> <br /></div><div>My mental / emotional / spiritual state had become so unrecognizable it was frightening. The crazy, overworked, stressed out, fear-gripped life that I have been living, and dragging my beautiful family along on, required a <i>complete</i> overhaul. <b> </b></div><p><b>Starting Now. </b></p><div><b></b></div>The Amazing Tripshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13761348688069779544noreply@blogger.com