Welcome!

Sean and Daniel in 2005 at WHS graduation

Yesterday I received a "Save the Date" wedding magnet announcing the fall wedding of a very special young man.  This got me to thinking about the story I am going to tell here.

Because I had moved around so much growing up and had changed schools so many times, I was determined that things were going to be different for my son.  I wanted him to go from kindergarten through graduation in the same town with the same group of friends and with the comfort and familiarity that I never got to experience.  Sadly, or so I thought at the time, it was just not meant to be.  It's not near as bad as it could have been, as we did only move one time, but when we moved, Daniel was 10 and had really developed a close group of friends that he went to both school and church with.  He had to leave them behind and he was crushed. 

On that fateful moving day, May 3, 1997 to be exact, we loaded up the last truck and car full of our belongings and headed to our new home in Wylie.  It was a Saturday and that afternoon, 350 miles from everything that he knew and loved, Daniel stood at the top of the driveway near the back yard of our new home looking down across some open fields to a house where we could all see and hear kids splashing around, playing in the pool, having water balloon fights and generally enjoying many of the things he would have been doing had we still been in Odessa that day.  I was so sad for him I didn't even ask him to help us unload. 

As I carried our belongings back and forth to the house I noticed a boy come up the hill towards where Daniel was standing.  The field behind us consisted of empty lots on an incline and had yet to be bought or built on, so it was a clear path to the "party house" that Daniel had been watching.  I walked out to where the boy had by now approached Daniel and I could see they were about the same size and age.  The boy was Sean and his mother had sent him up to invite Daniel to the party!  I later found out that she had seen Daniel standing there and knew that we were just moving in and she wanted Daniel to meet his new neighbors.  Sean introduced himself and said that he wanted Daniel to come to the party, which turned out to be Sean's 10th birthday party. Daniel was worried that he didn't have a present, but Sean said that was ok.  He was so cute.  He even said not to worry about swim trunks, that Daniel could borrow some of his and a towel too, and that they were having cake and ice cream and they were going to eat later and Daniel could stay for everything if that was ok?

You know how sometimes you just know that everything is going to work out and not to ask too many questions?  Well the "over-protective mom" in me just felt that this was one of those times.  Some people would probably say I did everything wrong when I let Daniel go with Sean, I didn't know Sean, I didn't know his mom, I didn't know anything about any of the people at the party.  But I let him go, without a second thought....after all I could SEE the house and the pool and all the kids and I could even hear them.  But that wasn't even really the deciding factor, I just somehow knew this was ok, and the look on my son's face was priceless.  They could not run down that hill fast enough.

Later, after a full afternoon of moving into our house,  I went down to the to collect my exhausted son.  The party was long over, but I could tell it had been a good one.  I met Sean's mother Pam, his dad Andy and his brother and sister Blake and Amanda.  As we talked and visited that evening, I knew I had done the right thing.  My intuition was right as this family turned out to be some of the finest folks I have ever met. 

Daniel and Sean have remained friends ever since that first day we moved to Wylie.  Oh yeah, the wedding magnet I mentioned at the beginning of this story----it's the announcement of Sean's September wedding to which we are invited and at which Daniel will be serving as a groomsman.  I think that move we made nearly 15 years ago was really meant to be. 

Social Media

 

I had to giggle at a recent Facebook post I saw by a friend of mine.  She was wondering out loud on her page and her post was asking her friends about whether she should make cake balls for an upcoming surprise birthday party.  Apparently she forgot that the person who was supposed to be "surprised" was on her list of Facebook friends who could see the post.  The birthday girl even commented on it -- haha!   This was  funny, but I'm constantly amazed at what I see posted!  For the most part it's entertaining and informative, but every now and then I just stop and scratch my head.  Then there's Twitter, which for the life of me I can't quite figure out.  The only reason I try is because if Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian can do it, then I KNOW it can't be that difficult.  Don't even get me started about Pinterest.  That's a whole 'nother post!  

It's hard to remember that it was not all that long ago that I would not have been able to fathom any of this.  I kept my encyclopedias updated and my phone book was very well worn.  Now the phone books go straight into the recycle bin and I gave up the encyclopedias to charity years ago.  All this technology makes things way too easy., and in turn I retain less of what I look up because I know that I can easily and quickly look it up again when I need to. I think all this technology is making me use my brain less or maybe it's making me brainless.  Wonder what would happen if it all went away tomorrow? 

It's Never Too Late For Family

Me and my Uncle Tom

Me and my beautiful Aunt Cindy

My father, Dennis

Me and Uncle Jerry, my father's younger brother

(sadly he passed away about a year after this picture was taken)

 My cousins Melody and Marie

My Uncle J.R., another of my dad's brothers

My dad's younger sister Aunt Carylene, me and Aunt Joanie (Uncle Jerry's wife)

Another of my dad's younger sisters, Aunt Beverly and me

Me, my cousin Jimmy and his wife Jeannie

I grew up with my mom, step-dad (Sonny), 2 younger sisters and a younger brother.  My mom had three brothers and Sonny had a sister and several brothers,  but due to circumstances beyond my control I really only knew my mom's youngest brother, Tom, his wife Cindy and their two sons (my first cousins Tommy & Rick).  My mom was friends with Aunt Cindy long before I was born and this friendship has lasted many decades.  During this time I have remained particularly close to my Aunt Cindy.  When Sonny was in the Navy and out on the ship back in the 60's and 70's, we always lived near,  next door and/or sometimes with Aunt Cindy and Uncle Tom.  When I was in school, Sonny and Uncle Tom got into welding and we traveled together, usually living in the same apartment complex or trailer park as the men followed the work. 


Now, all these years later, I am still extremely close to Aunt Cindy and usually talk to her several times a week.  During one of these conversations a couple of years ago, I was able to share with her that, through some Internet research, I had located my biological father's family.  It was very interesting because although I had never met Dennis (he passed away in the mid 1990's) Aunt Cindy had met him, and it's through her that I have most of my information.  One thing she did not know, and that I found out once I actually contacted the family is that my dad had 10 brothers and sisters and between the 8 who had survived to adulthood, I also have a couple dozen cousins!  Now this information, to a girl who grew up with one aunt, one uncle and two cousins, was a bit overwhelming, but in a good way. As I spoke to my newly found Aunts, Uncles and Cousins we planned a trip so that I could meet as many as possible.  The first trip was made in July of 2010 and was a huge success in my book.  I was able to find out so much about my dad and now, as I plan the second trip this Easter, I'm even more excited because I will meet a few more cousins.  Of course my Aunt Cindy will be making the trip with me, as she did the first time.  She is such a wonderful influence on my life and as she meets all these people she is just as excited as I am.  I love that about her!

Accidents Happen

Once as a young police officer I got a call of a burglar alarm at a shoe store downtown.  This was during winter, and it had snowed a foot or so with a layer of ice underneath.  I pulled up along the side of the building where the alarm was going off.  I was very careful, not pulling headfirst into the marked, metered spaces, because I was not sure I would be able to back out from a downward incline.  Instead I parked parallel to the curb and proceeded toward the alarm.  Thirty or so minutes later I headed back to my car after the call was over.  False alarm, as many of them tended to be, and just a few hours from the end of shift.  As I put the car in drive and hit the gas, nothing happened.  I couldn't get traction.  Inexperienced in the snow, especially as a driver (having been born in CA and spending most winters there), I pressed the accelerator of my squad car a bit harder and it came alive.....except that the only part that came alive was the rear end, which shot out to the side as it hit ice beneath the snow.  The driver's side rear quarter wrapped itself around the nearest parking meter, causing parts and pieces of the car to go every which way.  I had never been in a wreck.  I had worked plenty of them, but had never actually been in one.  I did what any 19 year old would do in that situation.  I burst into tears.  After a minute I pulled myself together and called for a supervisor.  Of course, it was a slow day and instead of just coming on over, my Sergeant wanted to chat.  On the radio.  For everyone to hear.  He said, "Whatcha got?"  and me, trying to remain calm and professional, "10-50" (Ten code for accident).  Sarge (knowing if I was calling a supervisor to an accident scene, that I was probably involved) said, "What'd ya hit?"  Me (losing it now and trying not to cry) "a paaaaaaaarking meeeeeeeter" wahhhhhh.  So embarrassing.  So now, I know that most everyone on duty is on their way to see the little police girl and what kind of damage she has done.  I looked around wanting to melt into the snow, and I noticed that a large piece of my rear fender had hit the meter with enough force to be thrown about 40 or 50 feet away from my car.  Yikes.  I did not want anyone to think I had been so careless as to hit with that much momentum, I ran down and picked up the piece and tried to just toss it nonchalantly amongst the closer pieces.  By the time the sergeant and most of the rest of the shift got to my location, I had gathered my thoughts (and car parts) and was trying to really shrug it off.  That is until one of the guys followed my footprints (in that foot deep snowfall) to where the large broken car piece had originally been laying----  He looked at the evidence, looked at me, looked at how close I was to tears again and probably thought "this just ain't worth it" and didn't say a word. 

Coffee Drinkers

When I was younger it was my responsibility to make coffee for my mom in the morning.  It wasn't anything complicated.  She always bought instant coffee and all I had to do was boil a pot of water and pour it over a tablespoon of Taster's Choice in her cup.  Every now and then I would sneak a taste, wondering what in the world was in this beverage that Mom just had to have before she got out of bed.  YUCK.  That bitter, foul tasting brew was about the nastiest stuff I had ever had.  I loved the smell, even of instant coffee, but I just could not imagine drinking that stuff all day long.  After her first cup, she would have another, but would often set it down somewhere but then pick it back up, long after it had gone cold, heat it up a second time and continue to drink it.  She did this all day long.  I guess it kept her going and helped her have the energy it took to take care of us four kids.

Years later, as an adult, I again tried out my coffee-drinking skills.  But as before, I still was not able to even swallow a mouthful.  I felt so wimpy.  As a police officer, I was never among the coffee-guzzling group.  If something  required me to stay up late or get up early, my beverage of choice was Coke or Dr. Pepper, and I was teased about this because apparently "grown-ups" drink coffee.  Over the years, I have tried on and off to drink it but without success.  I still love the smell, but the taste is something I just can't quite figure out.  I felt like I was in the minority as just about everyone I know drinks coffee in some form.  The number of Starbuck's in my city alone speaks to the popularity of this beverage.

A few years ago one of my best friends brought me a cup of coffee from QuikTrip.  Now this was my non-coffee drinking friend who felt the same way as I did about coffee.  I was so surprised.  We had both talked about not liking anything with a coffee taste, including coffee flavored candy and ice cream, yet here she was urging me to try something that clearly seemed to be related to the coffee family.  I took a sip and I was hooked.  Turns out this was QT's version of French Vanilla Cappuccino which while probably not really considered "coffee" is labeled as coffee and looks like coffee (at least a creamy, foamy coffee-like substance).  There happens to be a QT right on my way to work, and on cold mornings this drink is the perfect breakfast.

On mornings like this, where I walk in to work with that QT coffee cup in my hand, I feel like such a big girl.

Friends

I have a very special friend.  He was my boss for six years and although I love my job now, I sure did enjoy working for him.  I have stayed in touch with him since his retirement and he has had a rough time of it with some serious health issues.  Talking to him became difficult, as he just did not have the energy or the desire to be on the phone.  He didn't want me to call, he didn't want me to visit and I was afraid he was just giving up.  Things were not sounding very promising until last week.  Last week I got a phone call from him (which was rare, even when he was not sick) and he sounded great, said he was pain-free and felt better than he had in a long time.  Apparently the doctors made some adjustments to his treatment and medications and it was a change for the better.  He is able to drive on his own and wants to come to Plano to have lunch and visit with his buddies in our old department.  I sure hope he looks as good as he sounds.  I have a feeling I'll be happy to see him no matter what!

Stormy Weather

Having lived in Oklahoma and Texas for many years, the scene above has played out many times over the years.  Ever since I was young I loved to go outside in weather like this.  My mom was always afraid I was going to get struck by lightning.  She used to shoo us away from the windows and forbid us to use the phone or take a shower or bath during storms.  I actually found out later in life that this is pretty good advice, but back then I thought she was overreacting.  Even now I like to sit out on the back patio when it's storming.  As long as I know all my family and friends are safe and sound I love seeing the lightning and hearing the thunder, and watching it from outside is preferable to me.  I always thought I could be a storm chaser and I still wonder about that from time to time.  As I get older I find myself enjoying milder weather much more and hoping for sunny days.  So far this winter it has been unexpectedly nice, but I've learned that living in Texas things can change in a hurry, so there is no telling what is in store from day to day.  The below illustration is funny, but all too true around here!   

 

 

 

 

Soup for Breakfast

I recently got on a French onion soup kick.  Over about a monthlong period, I had it (multiple times) at several locations including Texas Land & Cattle, Jason's Deli and La Madeleine's.  I've made my own and also just popped open a can of Campbell's in an effort to quench my craving.  French onion was my soup of choice during this most recent binge, but I love just about any soup.  Urban Crust, which is located within walking distance of my office has some of the best.  My favorite there (so far) is the  roasted red pepper soup.  It is definitely in my top 10 list now, I just wish they made it more often.  Even our waitress told us it was the staff's favorite.  I've also had their roasted green pepper soup, Tuscan sausage and roasted potato soup and spring pea soup and all were fantastic.  A couple of months ago I had the roasted poblano soup at the 15th Street Cafe, which is a tiny little hole-in-the-wall diner also within walking distance of work, it was so good I ended up buying some to go and having it the next day.  For breakfast.  That's the catch.  I would actually love to have any of the above mentioned soups for breakfast, but most places are not ready to serve theirs until lunch, which is when normal people apparently eat their soup.

One answer to that is to make my own soup so that I can eat it whenever I want.  Recently I made a pot of stuffed bell pepper soup (above - thanks Pinterest!) and I had a bowl.  For breakfast.  This is not the first time I've eaten soup for breakfast and it won't be the last but I've yet to find anyone who admits to substituting a bowl of soup for a bowl of oatmeal in the morning.  Surely I can't be the only one.