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Today is Clark’s Birthday.  Hurray!!  He’s my fabulous Hubs!  Happy Birthday, Clark!!

It’s easy to remember his birthday because, well, I’ve known him for about 35 years.  I’m also pretty good at remembering birthdays.  Sending out cards is another story.  I tend to either send them out late or not at all.  I’ve had an ongoing deal with myself for longer than I can remember to work on that personal flaw.  Each year when the New Year rolls around I challenge myself to not only send every single person I know and love a birthday card but to also send it to them on time.  And, each year I break that vow.  Not on purpose, but because I tend to be a bit unorganized.  (A sign of creativity I’ve been told – *probably by my mother*)

When I woke up this morning, I put on my robe, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed towards our basement.  I walked down the stairs into the messy, cluttered, musty space under the first floor of our home.   I needed a picture of Clark.  I needed a picture ~ or two ~ of him to post on Facebook.  It’s been a longtime tradition of mine – along with everyone in the universe – to start our loved ones birthdays off on the right foot by publicly posting old, forgotten pictures of them and attaching some sort of sentimental blurb under it.  We plaster these Jpgs (pronounced Jaaayyy-pegs) out onto the World Wide Web and into cyberspace for the whole world to see. Well, I exaggerate.  But if you’ve Googled your name recently you’ll find I’m not too far off on my statement

At the bottom of my basement stairs, I walked back through a slim, cluttered hallway and towards what was once a working darkroom that Clark and I had built in a cut off, private section down there.  I passed up stacks of stored once treasured objects laying everywhere that had once held coveted spots in the rooms upstairs.   I got to the door of the old photo room, opened it and carefully stepped into what now looked like a cluttered room where most of our accumulated treasures from 30 years of marriage had landed. I looked around and thought to myself, good grief, we’ve become hoarders…

There were boxes and boxes of photos in that room which were saved in their original envelopes and stuffed into drawers.  Jammed drawers that you could barely open up because there were heavy stacks of boxes upon boxes filled with junk and memorabilia crammed all over the place.  The walls were also filled with cabinets that held a bonanza of old photo albums.  Eventually, I got down to work and started searching for a few pictures that were Facebook worthy.

Not too far into my task I became unfocused as I sifted through what seemed like a million unorganized photos.  It’s easy to get sidetracked when you’re looking at a photogenic history of your life.  The sentimentality of the task pulled at my heartstrings.  I started to examine the content of the piles of photos I was sifting through rather than finding photos of my hubs.  Photography sure had changed…..

  • The Selfie – Those popular self photo’s taken with smart phones and hand-held digital camera’s, which are usually flattering and an attempt to *appear casual*  had definitely not made it onto the scene yet.  It seems that back before the digital age and social media, people took more pictures of the world around them than they did of themselves. Clark, being the nature lover that he is, seemed to be fascinated with landscape photos.  I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at.  He also shot tons of photos of birds…..and animals at Zoos. But, no selfies.

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  • Photo Bombing – When I did come across the occasional photo of Clark from the olden days, I noticed that a few had some pioneer photo bombers in the background!  They were different though than the photo bombs of today where the pranksters purposely put themselves into the view of the photograph with a goofy smile or waving as to tell you that they’re back there and they GOTCHYA!!  These photo bombers were mostly elderly Aunts, Uncles or family members simply misplaced in the backdrop of the photo.  Often funnier than the bombers of today.

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  • Hairstyles – They will always give away what decade you are looking at.

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  • Labeling Photo’s – I was always told to label the back of my photos with names and dates because one day I’d forget that information.  I scoffed at that bit of advice knowing I’d never forget people or names or places.  So, I didn’t label anything.  And, for the life of me I could not place who half the people in the photo’s with me were.  We must have been close pals though because mostly we were hugging and laughing together.  Huh??

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After a few hours of walking down memory lane, I had finally found a handful of pictures that would work as a tribute to my Hubs.  They were awesome photos and during a time when we first met and started dating.  His hair was long and he sported a thick, full mustache.  He wore t-shirts with pictures of rock bands on them and cut off, frayed jean shorts.  He drove a convertible and had a wild streak in him that caught my eye right away.  These days he’s traded in that youthful attire and look for work slacks, ties and weekend golf shirts.

It was odd-looking back at those old photos.  It’s odd how you don’t realize how much you age and mature from year to year until you look back.  It hit’s you then and you think solemnly to yourself, wow, I’ve aged….  You wonder where the time went.  How did thirty years fly by so fast.  And, were the memories recorded in those old, treasured photo’s really as glorious as our minds would love to convince us they were?  Or, is it true what they say; that it’s fun to remember the way things used to be, but the way things used to be probably could never live up to how we recall them.  We tend to glorify the past with fabulous stories and timeless photo’s that make you think ‘all the world’s a sunny day…’


Growing up 70’s

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Prologue

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I grew up in the 70’s. It was a day and age when elementary school aged kids got up early, ate breakfast and ran out the front door of their suburban homes, hopped on their Schwinn bikes and headed out for the day to meet up with friends who lived down the block or around the corner. Or, across the way into the next neighborhood.

There were softball, baseball and kickball games played on dirt lots in neighborhoods that were not quite completely developed yet, making for great meeting spaces. …..”I’ll meet you on the dirt lot” …

old-basketball-hoop-thumb10588649We played four-square on driveways where we drew the lines for the game in chalk. There was tether-ball and hopscotch and tag. There were always groups of boys in the neighborhood playing basketball at each other’s houses. The basketball nets were mounted off of the part of the roof that hung over the garage.

There were no computers or cell phones. There was no cable TV or MTV. Gameboys, Video Gaming and X-Box systems were still many years away from being created by Microsoft. In fact, there was no Microsoft. Bill Gates was an unknown name. And Apple, well, that was a fruit you ate. We played outdoor everyday, all day long, often not showing up back home again until supper time.

For the most part, our moms stayed home and our Dads went to work. Later, as we grew into our Jr High years, some of the Mom’s started going back to work to help pay the high cost of raising a big family. Families were big back then. Or, they seemed to be. Maybe it was because I grew up in a mainly Irish/Italian, catholic area. Most of my friends came from families of at least 4 – 5 kids. And, it was not unusual to have friends that had 6 or 7 siblings.

Those were good days. Simple. Carefree. Easy. They were days when you formed unbreakable, life-long bonds with friends.1970s_schwinn_small_girls_bike_hollywood_blue_make_offer_peru_28526083There were strong family bonds and daily routines that helped to cement the family together. Chores on the weekends. Getting home from school, having a snack, playing outside for a while with friends, riding your bike or watching one of the 4 channels on TV we had. Helping out by starting dinner before your Mom got home from work.  Dinner in my home was always promptly at 6pm. Every night.

These simple times, these family bonds, were all tools that helped to form the adults we are today. They strengthened the ties between Dads and sons, as well as Moms and daughters. The family structure was well built and strong. I miss those easy days.

I ran across a blog this week that brought memories of the 70’s flooding back. They made me think about my siblings and friends from the old neighborhood, as well as my parents. Especially my Mom. Our bond was unshakable. We were close. Not so much through the teen years, which in my eyes, is a normal part of growing up, but more so after I left for college and especially when I got married and we lived states apart. I miss my siblings and my parents. These days, I miss my Mom. So much so that I find myself thinking about her day and night. So when I read this blog Im about to share, I smiled. I realized that those ties between a Mom and Daughter are never broken. The bond between a Mother and child is universal. And deep.

Sometimes I think back fondly and miss those days.  Always, I miss my Mom…….


Something Worth Sharing

Five O’Clock

Re-blogged and Originally posted by Teri Carter

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I miss my mother most at five o’clock.

When I was a kid and came home after school, the TV was my babysitter — Gilligan’s Island at 3:30 followed by The Brady Bunch followed by The Partridge Family — until five o’clock came and it was time to do the few chores my mother had left for me (as fast as possible) before she got home.  I stayed with my grandparents in the summers.  My mother, if she was working the right shift, the good 7 to 3 shift, would sit for an hour or so at the kitchen table with my grandmother, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and gossiping, until we went home, just the 2 of us, around five.  As a teenager, I would dink around with friends after school, knowing I had to be home by five, that my mother would be waiting for me to help her with supper.  It was our time, our hour or two in the kitchen, just the two of us, before her new farmer husband came in from working in the field and the night became all about him.

I miss my mother most at five o’clock.

I remember being in my 20s, away from my hometown and working in cubicles and traveling all over the country.  Feeling successful, but untethered.  I called my mother at the end of most workdays.  Hey mom, what are you doing?  Nothing, what are you doing?  Going to grab some food, you?  Making supper.  When I got married, became a mom, and quit my job — all in about a 6 month span — I’d find myself in the kitchen alone around five, trying to figure out how to make a not-boring, edible dinner for my family of four.  Husband not home from work; kids doing homework or watching “The Simpsons”; and me pulling random items from the refrigerator.  I’d pour a glass of wine and call my mother.  Hey, mom, what are you doing?  Making supper.  Me, too, what are you making?  Chicken.  How are you making it?  Well … fried of course!  And we would laugh.

I miss my mother most at five o’clock.

In my mid-30s, I remember thinking that one good thing about having a sick mother was that she was always home, always there, to answer on the first ring.  I would start dinner, pour a glass of wine, and dial.  Hey mom, what are you doing?  Nothing, what are you doing?  Making dinner.  What are you making?  She was no longer able to cook, so she cooked vicariously through me.  Sometimes I lied and pretended I was making things I had no clue how to make — Chicken Cordon Bleu — to change up the conversation, to give us something else to talk about besides doctor appointments and inhalers and the shortening of time.  I’d even make up the ingredients, the steps, the ease of making something new; anything to distract us, to entertain.  All chicken, I would say, doesn’t need to be fried!  

I miss my mother most at five o’clock.

These days, when my husband and I decide we’re getting fat and it’s time to cut back, he will suggest skipping dinner.  Often I’ll agree:  what a great idea that is, we can just have a little snack, nothing big, you’re right.  But I never follow through.  I blame it on the clock.  On time.  It doesn’t matter if it’s winter or summer, daylight savings or dark by five, I pour my glass of wine and open the refrigerator door, ready to finish off the day the only way I know how.  It’s five o’clock.  What are you doing?  Making dinner. 

Do you have a space to call your own?

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It’s been raining for days.  I used to dread cold, gloomy, rainy weather.  That was before my blogging days.  Now?  I look forward to them because frankly, they seem to provide the best environment for writing.  They have a way of helping to diminish the guilt that we tend to feel when we stay indoors on sunny days.

I bought a desk a few months ago.  A desk that I could tuck away into a corner somewhere in my home – into a carved out a space of my own for the days I wanted to write.  Days just like we’ve had this week.  It landed up in the spare bedroom.  A room that once housed my oldest son before he got married.  A room that in my oldest son’s opinion, “got taken apart, dismantled and redecorated far too fast after he moved out”  (He’s still a little heartbroken over that fact!).

My own space!  It’s a place that I have carefully crafted into my very own oasis.  It’s cozy and feminine and perfect for slipping into when I want to get away from the chaos and monotonous routine of everyday – the doorbell, the phone, my last remaining home bound son and his friends, my Hubs and his constant, endearing male questions. “Honey, where’s my glasses?” “Did you get the mail yet?” “Margaret, what on earth have you been using the credit card on!?”

Those are the moments when, yes, it’s time to hideaway in my oasis.  I mean, honestly, for the past 30 years I have lived in a house of all men and myself.  The ratio is 4 to 1.  A ratio, in all honesty, that I have loved and adored because, well, let’s face it, boys are easier to raise than girls.  No raging hormones.  No cat fights with their female friends.  No over the top emotional displays of drama.  And, if my guys did get into a “disagreement” with their friends, it was heatedly discussed one moment and then forgotten the next.  Easy as pie!  Love my guys more than anything on earth!!!!

These days, I find myself hiding in my new, beautiful retreat more and more.  And, during all times of the day and night.  When Clark’s big, resounding snoring is keeping me awake, off I go to my oasis.  This was an added bonus provided by my special holed-up sanctuary that was a wonderful surprise!!  I had never thought about it as an escape from my sleepless nights when one of Clark’s colds (which he assures me that neither I nor anyone else on earth has ever experienced anything remotely as bad)  or his allergies made it sound like I was sleeping next to the freight train.  I used to just poke, kick or pinch him to get him to roll over to his side. This tended to give temporary relief from the quartet of loud trombones coming from my Hubs slumbering mouth.  When he became so accustomed to those tactics that he started to sleep through them, I tried a new approach.  I’d slap the mattress real hard right next to his head.  At first, this would startle him out of a deep sleep.  Heart racing and breathless, he jump straight up, hold his heart and ask me what in the world happened.  Naturally, I’d pretend to be asleep, rouse sleepily and tell him he imagined it.

Now, I can just slip out of bed and away from his personal symphony and head to my own peaceful crash pad.  It’s a win/win for both of us!!  Hurray!

When I first decided to redecorate the room, I promised my hubs it would be a simple project.  Slap a coat of new paint on the walls and buy a new bedspread. Like all worthwhile decorating projects, it turned into a monster.  Once I got a new bedspread, well, the old night stands had to go.  And, once those were replaced, New drapes, mirrors, wall art and lamps soon followed.  Each day as Clark would get home from work and climb the stairs to change his clothes from work, he’d pause briefly by “the” room, glance inside and wonder what new addition he’d find.  I would always assure him that whatever he spotted was a great deal with a huge, slashed discount!!!  Now that I think of it,  I was actually being very considerate in how I was saving him so much money!

This week, I’ve decided I need a small sofa, chair and ottoman or chaise in my home away from home.  And, I’m on the hunt!

Stormy days.  I once found them depressing, boring and lonely.  Today I find myself comforted by surrounding myself in the space I call my own.  Do you have a special place you that you can escape to when the creative juices are flowing?  Or, when you simply want to be by yourself for, well, whatever reason?  I hope so.  It’s a life changer!

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Mamma Mia! Let’s Celebrate our Love for Italy!

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Today is Columbus Day.  The day in which we remember Christopher Columbus’ arrival to the Americas.  In honor of this great day and this man whom came from Italy, I’m celebrating everything Italian today.  Italy, with its great vineyards, amazing food and rich history, seems to be a heritage that we are infatuated with.  Who doesn’t love all things Italian?!

 The Top Reasons why we celebrate and Love Italy.

 

 The Pizza

You can eat it daily.

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The Spaghetti

You can twirl it like nobody’s business.

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The Wine

It’s guaranteed that you get this fruit group into your daily diet.

And, good wine is more important to you than a pile of money.

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 Italian – the universal language

You’re really good at talking with your hands.

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Grape Juice

You know exactly what cherished Television show this scene is from.

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The Produce

You could spend hours wandering the open air fruit and vegetable markets.

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 Italian Men & Women

You’re pretty sure the Italians were first in line when God was handing out looks.

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Transportation

It’s your dream to drive a little car.

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Or maybe even a scooter.

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Landscape

Frolicking in vineyards has always seemed like your calling in life.

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The Easy Life

You really just like to relax and hang out wherever!

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Joe

Your day is not complete without a little coffee.

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Flora

You’re pretty sure the window boxes everywhere were hung for you.

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Dino

You know all the words to THAT’S AMORÈ

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Leo

Since your early days of finger-painting, you’ve dreamed of becoming an artist in Italy.

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 Leo

Uhm, ’nuff said

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Italian Desserts

Leave the gun, take the cannoli

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Welcome October!!

October could possibly be the best month of the year!

Yep, Anne said it best!!

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But if she doesn’t convince you ~ maybe some of these Autumn favorites will!!

 

 

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Welcome October!!

                                                                                                                                    

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What’s Your Favorite Month??

 

Until death do us part

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It’s Tuesday morning.  It’s been my norm for years and years to get up early.  Very early.  Usually between 4:30 – 5am.  Since I decided to retire early – last December – I’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping in late.  Well, late for me.  I usually wake up around 7am.  This was alarming to me at first.  I felt shame and guilt.  I felt lazy.  As my Mom used to say to me, “half the day is gone!”  It must be an Irish thing.  She used to get up early.  For as long as I can remember, she was up before the sunrise.   She would have half of her housework done by 7am.  But, I’ve gotten used to the luxury of sleeping in “late.”

So, its morning.  I’m having coffee.  I’m sitting at my kitchen counter and looking at a blank, white screen in front of my sleepy eyes.  My blog is calling to me. It pulls me in.  But for the past few months I’ve had a sort of writers block.  Clark says I’m forcing it – that when I’m ready to write again, it will come naturally.  Like it always has.  And, he’s right.

Brian – my youngest son – has said to me in the past that when I don’t have anything to write about, perhaps it’s because I have not been doing anything “write worthy”.  He’s observant.  I believe this to be the case of my self-proclaimed block.

 

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I could chalk it up to the transition of summer into fall if I really needed a scapegoat.  The changing of the seasons.  The fault could be laid at the heels of that happy sad place we find ourselves in when saying goodbye to one season and welcoming in the next.  I always feel a little bit melancholy as the seasons change.   And when I’m melancholy, I tend to take a break from writing.  Oh, the changing seasons is a cycle of life that I love – one that I really do not think I could live without witnessing year in and out, but still, it’s a constant reminder of how fast time goes.  The seasons speed by.  You blink your eyes and time flies.  Really, it would be unusual to go through an entire Summer without hearing at least a dozen times…that old familiar phrase..”I can’t believe the Summer is almost over!”  And it’s true.  It’s always a shock to see how fast it went by and how the next season has miraculously arrived without you noticing that it snuck up on you.

But, there it is.  Fresh and new.  A new beginning. A new cycle.  A new Season.   A fresh start.  With all the promise and excitement of what lies ahead for you.  New resolutions. New untapped energy.  Come on New Season…I’m ready!

 

Seasons Change

 

However, If I am going to be honest, my writer’s block could most likely be chalked up to the Clark Factor.  My better half tends to be around the house more than he used to be.  Right now he is upstairs snoozing.  He took the day off.  In all honesty, he takes a lot of time off of work these days.  He is somewhat semi retired.  He usually golf’s on the days he is not working, but I had a mini empty-Nester melt down last week and accused him of not wanting to spend time with me.  Suddenly, this week he decided to spend his time off with me rather than hitting the links with his golf buddies.  Coincidence?  Nah, I don’t think so.  But, I didn’t fight it.  I decided to soak in the attention and enjoy spending some quality one on one time with my Hubs!  YaY!!

Booo!!  By noon on the first day that we spent together,  I was wondering what in the world I was thinking when I practically bullied him into spending his day off with me rather than the guys.  In theory, I was going to love having him around!!  Hurray!! Us time!!   In reality, it didn’t quite work out that way.  He was in my space.  All.Day.Long.  It’s not that he was actually doing anything wrong – I just had not realized how much I liked my days to myself and my routine kept in place.  I didn’t want to spend my day running to the hardware store with him.  Or, dropping him off at the car dealership to get his car looked at.  I didn’t want to eat lunch at 10:30am or watch the financial station on TV all morning.  Or worse yet, watch golf on TV.  And, when we went to the grocery store together, it took some getting used to watching him plow the cart down the center of the aisle and getting into some sort of freakish road rage event with the other shoppers.  *Holy Cow!!*

By 3pm that day, I started to suspect that he was purposely trying to tick me off so I would beg him to please.. please, for the sake of our marriage…go golfing!!!  And, I did.  I told him to go golf with his friends.  He was happier,  I was happier.  I realized that having him around gave me an odd sense of feeling all out of whack.

Slowly (and Thank Goodness!!)  eventually he reverted back to his old ways.  I once again became a (happy) golf widow.  And more importantly, I was able to write again.  He still hangs around somewhat in the early mornings before he heads out for his day with the guys, but that’s a compromise I can live with. 

So now, these days when I am happily alone at home and carrying on with my usual routine, I wonder about what full retirement will be like.  How do retiree’s do it?  How do they learn to live together all day long without driving each other crazy??  Is it something that simply takes getting used to?  And if so, how long is the transition period?

I Love My Hubs!!  He’s my better half and my soul-mate and for better or worse, he’s my best friend!!  Until Death Do us part!!!  But, I pull my hair out when he’s around all day.  I feel like I’m losing my ever-lovin’ mind!!  I can not be the only one who goes nuts when your loved one suddenly decides to spend the day with you.  Can I?


 

 

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12 ways to spend your time and money at Target

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I’m sure by now you have all heard about the massive security breach of credit and debit cards used at Target stores across America.  During the 2013 Holiday season no less.  Now, this week, we hear of another cyber attack and data breach at Home Depots from coast to coast.

I was having coffee with Clark when the story hit the news last week.  I could not believe my ears.  How can this happen twice in the span of a year, I asked him.  And, how do these cyber thief’s pull off these big scale heists?

It’s that cloud!  That cyber cloud that we’re all up in.  That’s the culprit and the source of these leaks.

 

Me: I don’t understand all of this cloud stuff.

 Clark:  *…turns to me *blank stare*

 Me: Well, do you?

 Clark:  *continued blank stare, followed by incredulous look*  pfffft, of course I do….. (insulted)

 MeWell, then what do they mean by “you’re info is stored up in the cloud?”  What cloud?  Where’s this mysterious cloud at? Is it an actual, literal, tangible location?

 Clark  *Well, they don’t tell you thattt. 

Me:   Oh, so you don’t know either. 

 

 

I thought about this for a long time.  I don’t like the fact that I don’t feel safe using my credit card at Target anymore.   Target!!   It’s my home away from home.   I’m there a lot.  It’s not the same Target from my youth.  It’s got snappy advertising now.  And, fun products.  I can get lost in there for hours.  Not to mention, it’s a great place to spend money.  What was once a store for purchasing your cleaning supplies, is now an oasis for wasting hours of time and hard earned cash.

 


 

 

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 Twelve ways to spend your time and money at Target

 

 

1. Circle the parking lot for 15 minutes looking for the best parking space.  If you are there during a busy season, (holiday and school supply shopping) keep your eye on the front door of the store as you enter the parking lot.  As customers walk out, gun it over to the aisle they are headed for.  Then do the slow creep two feet behind them, stalking them all the way to their spot with your car.  Wait for them to load their stuff into trunk, pull out and then….Success!

 

2. Upon entering the store, go directly to the Starbucks that is conveniently located near the entrance.  Purchase an expensive latte with extra whip topping.  You’re going to be strolling the aisles for a while.  Go for the Venti.

 

3. Head straight to the cosmetic section.  Wander through these aisles for a long time.  Purchase new makeup, makeup remover, wrinkle creams, hair shampoos & conditioners, smoothing potions, frizz sprays, gloss sprays, tanning lotions, trendy colored nail polish.  Feel satisfied and move on.

 

4. On your way to the cleaning supplies, get diverted into the clothing section.  Buy a t-shirt in every color.  You can never have enough.  Set the Latte down and browse through the work out gear.  Toss some yoga pants into your cart.  They are comfy to wear while watching TV.  Notice the new PJ sets as you pass up the intimate apparel section.  Be strong.  You don’t need new PJ’s.

 

5. Take a leisurely stroll through the housewares section.   Decide you need some new picture frames for the digital photos on your phone that you won’t end up having printed.  Purchase two.  Also, put the star shaped candy dish that caught your eye into your cart.   Smell every candle on display.  Decide you can not live without the tropical scented one.  Toss it into your cart and move on.

 

6. Feel a bit of Guilt.  Decide that you don’t really need all of the items you have in your cart.  Dig the tropical scented candle back out.  Look around to see if anyone is watching you.  Stuff it in between the two stacks of Kitchen towels you are standing in front of.

 

7. Think about purchasing those kitchen towels.  Your kitchen could use an facelift.  Toss the new towels in your cart.

 

8. Notice the absence of cleaning supplies in your cart.  Circle back around to the household aisle.  Hurray!!  Toilet Paper is on sale.  Grab the large, awkward sized 20 roll package and place it under the cart.  Grab another one since it’s on sale.  Balance it on top of cart.

 

9. Look down at phone and notice Text From Hubby  Where are you??  Are you going to be home soon?  Ignore text. Turn off phone.

 

10. Wheel over to the magazine and book racks.  Flip through your favorite decorating magazine.  And cooking.  Buy both.  Toss in this weeks People for good measure.

 

11. Head to the Checkout.  Feel a bit shocked when the cashier rings up the grand total of $187.35.  Fret over purchasing with Credit Card for fear of data getting breached.  Shrug off the worry and hand over your Master Card.  Sign on dotted line and you’re on your way.

 

12. Head for parking lot.  Look for car.  Where’s my car?  Which aisle am I parked in????

Remember These?

 

Last February, Facebook celebrated a big birthday.  As a way of saying Thank You to the millions of people who use Facebook on a daily basis, they gave each of us a short – one minute – personal birthday video.  A photo montage of highlights from our lives – starting from the anniversary of your FB join date.  The perfect minute, set to the perfect music.  They did it so tastefully.

I watched mine over and over again when it first came out.  Then the excitement faded a bit and like a beloved childhood toy, it sat dusty on a shelf.  Unwatched, but readily available for those days when you felt reminiscent.  Or in need of a little pick-me-up.

And, I do reach for mine.  I reach for it on days when I need a reminder of just how blessed I am.   It’s a constant reminder of just how much I have been given in my life and how fortunate I am to be surrounded by an amazing family and dear friends.

Are you on Facebook?  Do you remember the day you received your birthday video?  When was the last time you dusted it off and watched it?

Today is a good day to take a moment to sit back, take a short breather, and be grateful for the many blessings that surround you every single day.

social-media-like

Move over Hallmark, there’s a new card in town.

Have you noticed those funny little ecards that are all over social media sites?  You’d have to have been living in an isolated cave not to know exactly what I’m talking about.  They’re everywhere!

I started taking notice of them about a year or so ago.  But in truth, they came onto the scene in 2007 – (I googled it!!)  They have their own Facebook page with well over 1 million Likes.

They’re brilliant!  And witty!  And quite honestly – completely truthful and accurate.  They say in one line, what most of us try to stammer out in a long-winded, beating around the bush, run on sentence.

I like to email them to Clark sometimes.  They easily convey, what I can’t seem to get across to him.  Like this one….

boss

 


 

 

There’s many advantages to sending eCards.  They’re free.  They’re delivered automatically to our electronic devices & received immediately with a few clicks of the mouse.  There’s no limit to the audience in which you can send them to.

The Weight Loss Friend

losing weight

 The BS’r

busy

 The Selfie Abuser

selfie

The Grammar Nazi

grammar

 The Screener

nottextingme

 The Facebook Creeper

creeper

The Employer

Employer

The Fraud

Fraud

The Gym Member

Gym1

The Interupter

interuppter

And finally – The Online Addict….

online

Oh Canada!!

 canadian_maple_leaf

It was 3:30 a.m. – I was sound asleep, exhausted from the long, extended weekend getaway that my Hubs and I had decided to go on.  Somewhere in my dream an alarm clock was going off.  Loudly.  An overly annoying, blaring noise – over and over again.  Disturbing my sleep.

Finally realizing it was not a dream, I came out of my fog, rolled over and hit the button that turned off the rude invasion.  My eyes opened slowly.  Confusion clouded my brain.  Where was I?  Oh, in Canada.  It was an unGodly hour and we had to get up to catch the first flight out – back to the U.S.

At 3:30 a.m.?  Yes!  It was Clark’s way.  First flight out.  Always.  I had grown accustomed to it and actually kind of liked getting on the road early now.

The 4th of July fell on a Friday this year.  That meant extra time to celebrate our country’s Independence.  A long weekend – plus a few days tagged on to the beginning and the end.  It was the American way!!  Take a one day celebration and turn it into an extended, 5+ day mini vacation.  U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

happy-4th-of-july-2012-fireworks-flag-usa

And so, we did.  But all good things come to an end and our vaca was over and it was time to hit the road and head back to reality.

As we arrived to the airport, I noticed the huge crowds and quickly realized that everyone had the same idea.  Get away for an extended holiday and catch the early flight home.  YIKES.

The Montreal Airport was a mob scene!  People pushing and shoving.  Confusion.  I would soon find out that it was the calm before the storm.

lines

Fast forward 4 hours…….

 


 

Our flight was cancelled due to…well, who really knew why.  It’s like a huge, top-secret dealio that the airport officials keep from you until the last moment.  And even then, the cynic in me tells me that half the time, the story you get is BS.

 flights-cancelled

 

Long lines at the re-ticketing booth formed quickly.  We were, oh, about 200th in line.  And, the line was moving at a snail’s pace.  Seriously – How long does it take to re-issue a new ticket on a flight that is NOT cancelled??

Every now and then, while standing in the worlds slowest and longest line, I’d sneak a peek at Clark to see if the vein in his neck was popping out.  The one that pops out when he is about ready to explode.  It was.  I would look away again and pretend I did not notice.  It was like sitting on a time bomb.  If we did not get service quickly, it was going to get ugly.

Somewhere in front of us, there was an irate woman dressed in some kind of tropical get-up with a matching festive hat, screaming about missing her connecting flight to Aruba.  Sorry lady, you aren’t getting to Aruba today. 

There was a small, determined,  Japanese woman who came out of nowhere and had marched to the front of the mile long line, talking in her foreign tongue, waving her ticket in front of the agents face.  The agent kindly told her to go to the back of the line.  She continued to frantically wave her ticket.  He continued to tell her to wait her turn.  He finally won out.  She turned around and headed back.  Sort of.  She went about halfway back and hid behind a large pole and made an attempt every once in a while to rush the desk again – only to get the same response.  Wait your turn.

 hiding2

 

During all the chaos, and after about 2 hours of waiting in the line that never budged, Clark, with neck vein bulging,  overheard an agent saying he was going to open another desk down the hallway.  He turned to me frantically and told me to get a head start, head the agent off and be first in line.

A good plan of attack!!  I hurried down the hall, dragging my heavy, overstuffed, carry on luggage in tow, and beat the agent to his post.  Hurray!!  First in line!  I noticed others had followed me.  The agent rounded the corner and was a bit surprised that we were all standing there waiting for him.  Tickets in hand and hope in our eyes.

Clark joined me in line, did some fancy talking and before you knew it, we had two seats on a connecting flight home and a handful of food vouchers!  Food always calmed Clark’s nerves.  I peaked at his neck vein.  Yup, calm again.

While waiting for our newly, rescheduled flight,  Clark and I spent time in the Maple Leaf Club.  This is the private club.  (I use the term loosely – it’s really a glorified waiting room.)  It’s for frequent travelers to sit in while waiting for their flights.  I looked around the room.  It was filled with other passengers whose flights were also cancelled or delayed.

One benefit of the Maple Leaf Club is that you get free food and beverages while you wait.  Like any other venue where food is included, people were swarming around it.   As the server would bring out more carts with some new offerings on it, the crowd would all get up at once and stampede over & pile their plates high with whatever it was.  Then, they’d slowly saunter back over to where they had been sitting – waiting for the next wave of food items to pounce on.  It was amusing and annoying all at once.

BuffetLine

 

At 4 p.m, – 12 hours after our ordeal started – We were still sitting in the club.  I started to get antsy.  The food was now boring me.  We had seen new faces come and go.  The crowd had completely turned over.

There was an Amish man sitting a few seats from me.  He was wearing a black hat that was flat on top with a big, wide brim around it. He had a full length black beard and long chin length ringlets hanging down on either side of his head.   As I looked at him, I knew that I would never have made it in this life as an Amish person because, well, ringlets.

There was a very thin, very fashionable french (Canadian-french) lady, sitting a few seats opposite the Amish man, eating a carrot stick. I was tired and needed a shower and was getting annoyed.  I wanted to scream at her…oh go out on a limb and eat a cheese cube why don’t you!!

cheesecube

My eyes traveled around the room and settled on Clark who was sitting across from me. His brow was furrowed. (what now?)  He looked up at me, informing me that our original, non-stop 6a.m. flight home, which had been delayed & then cancelled & re-booked, was once again delayed.  Ohhhh Canada! – Oh brother!!  Would we ever get home?

We would.  And eventually we did.  Almost 18 hours later, three cities and two airports. We made it back home. What had originally started out as a 2 hour non-stop flight home, had turned into an 18 hour ordeal.  But, we got home.  Safely.  It never felt better to walk in to our home than that night.  Exhausted from the long weekend and the travel day home.

I must say, traveling with Clark is always one great big adventure.  We travel often and on the fly.  Never really knowing where we will end up.  But we always have a great time.  Canada was lovely and we had a blast!  I’d take a day of nightmarish travel in exchange for a trip with Clark any-old-time!!  Bring it on!

What we need now, is a vacation from our vacation!

 

vacation