Pumpkin Carving

When I was little, my favorite thing about Halloween, besides the candy, was carving pumpkins. Of course, I couldn't carve the pumpkin myself, but my dad always had my sister and I draw our faces on our pumpkins and he would carve them out. Every year, I wanted the same thing. A pumpkin with heart eyes and messed up teeth in his smile. He also had to have ears. I think my dad had an incredibly hard time with my heart eyes, but he never complained. :)

After I grew up and went to college, I stopped carving pumpkins, although I did paint a few. After B and I got married, we began carving pumpkins again. I was excited to make a pumpkin with a fun face, but when I got the carving kit, it came with tons of neat designs that we could carve on our pumpkins. So, we decided to try those out instead and loved the results. This is what our very first pumpkins looked like:

My only disappointment was that they went bad so quickly after so much work!

This year, we had P, and while we planned to carve a fun pumpkin for her, somehow one of the pumpkins we bought went bad. So, while we didn't carve one for her, she did get to play with a small one and watch her mommy and daddy carve theirs. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

B and I again carved some elaborate pumpkins (his moreso then mine with the werewolf), and I loved it. I'm not a crafty individual, persay, so to be able to make something like this is fun for me.
Next year though, P will definitely have a carved pumpkin!

I wrote this post as a part of the SITS Halloween Party...you should check it out!

Ghosts of Halloween Past

I've always loved Halloween...getting dressed up and of course, the candy. When I was little, I had many favorite costumes and good times. We often celebrated at our church with apple bobbing, costume contests and games before we would go out and get lots of candy. Of course, Halloween has changed from when I was young. I remember we would always go out right at dusk, on October 31st, and knock on the doors that had lights on. When the door opened, we would shout "Trick or Treat," and we would go until there were hardly any lights left on (because people had run out of candy!). Nowadays, where I live, Trick or Treat is a set day, hardly ever on the actual Halloween, and a set time, normally before dark. People sit outside and pass out candy, there is no knocking on doors. It makes me sad that it has changed so much.

After I grew up and began my big kid job, Halloween was a BIG weekend at my job. The university I worked at was known for the block party at Halloween, and my job required me to be on duty pretty much all weekend during Halloween. Although it required long hours and we were often quite tired, I loved Halloween weekend because it meant good food and great staff bonding time. We weren't allowed to dress up, but at the staff meeting beforehand, we would normally dress up and have fun. I loved that Halloween took on a new meaning for me during these years and that it could still be so fun.

Some of my staff one Halloween (that is me in the middle...I was supposed to be a ninja...not sure it entirely looked like that!)

Now, I have my daughter, and I look forward to seeing how she enjoys Halloween and Trick or Treating. I hope it is as much fun for her as it has been for me through all these years.

This post was written as a part of the Halloween Party over at SITS. You should check it out!

A Visitor

This past week my mom was here visiting...which is the main reason that I've been Missing in Action. She stayed for a whole week. Yup. 7 days. It was rather stressful, to be honest.

I love my mom, however, our relationship has never been the best. We are like oil and water...don't mix very well. I can be around her for a few days and then...well, she starts to rub me the wrong way and I get on edge. I have been praying for quite some time for more patience when it comes to my mom, but it has not come easy to me.

It isn't my mom's fault. For many years of my childhood she suffered with being manic depressive. She went undiagnosed for several years. During those years she did some pretty awful things to my sister and I. But, we came out on the other side. I'm not saying that we weren't damaged in the process. We certainly were. There were times when I all I wanted from my mom was a hug, and she pushed me away. Eventually, I stopped wanting hugs from her. Eventually, I stopped trusting her.

After she was diagnosed, and put on medication, my mom got significantly better, although she slept a lot. But a lot of the damage was already done. Although my sister was able to trust her again, I never really shared things with my mom again. I guess I always wondered if she would revert back to her old ways. When my dad got sick, she got sick again. She wasn't able to handle what was happening and after he passed away, she had a mental breakdown. After a few weeks in the hospital, they changed her medicine (she was on something that while controlling her manic tendencies, had in fact depressed her...which is why she was sleeping so much), and I must admit, when she came out, I barely recognized her. She acted so different. It was like the mom I had lost 10 years before when she first started showing her illness. I almost didn't know how to act around her. She was relaxed and happy. She stopped all the nervous ticks she had done for years. She even started volunteering at the church so she could get out of the house. It was amazing, and I was shocked.

Unfortunately, this new mom didn't last. I'm not sure why. I don't know if they changed her medications again, or if the combination of everything was too much, or what it was. But, less then a year after she became the new and improved mom, she started to get worse again. Granted, she never got to the point she was before, but, the nervous ticks returned, and on top of that, she has become a bit of a hypochondriac. I don't think a week goes by when she doesn't call to tell us that something else has happened to her and she has a need for another medication. At times, I can't believe that her doctors continue to treat her. I do feel bad for her, as I think she honestly doesn't know what to do with herself anymore...that she needs attention, and that having things wrong with her is her way to get attention. Unfortunately, all the medication she is on does not do her good. She is honestly quite scatter-brained. An example of this would be her taking my SUV while here (without my knowledge) and backing it in to the bell in our yard. The bell that is about 10 feet out of the driveway. She took it, regardless of the fact that she couldn't see to drive it, and kept driving after running over several bricks and rocks in our flower beds. And was going to keep driving it after hitting the bell, had I not come out to stop her (because yes, I heard her hit the bell). She didn't see anything wrong with it. And that's just one example! Argh. :)

The hardest thing for me when it comes to my mom is that I can't talk to her. I'd love to be able to tell her things that are happening in my life. To seek advice, to share with her. But I can't. Time and again, I have tried, and she has told people things I have asked her not to tell. She has twisted things I have said and started problems that didn't need to be started. There is also a part of me that feels like her hugs and other acts of love aren't genuine. They probably are...but after years of getting pushed away, I can't bring myself to really feel them, or want to reciprocate. And this is coming from someone who loves to cuddle and show affection.

So, with her here visiting, it was hard. I realize that I have only her and my sister left of my immediate family. I long to have a close and loving relationship. I continually try to give her another chance, but with each chance, it becomes harder and harder. I'll keep trying.

In Memory of My Grandmother

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I still miss her quite a bit - her laugh, smile and amazing ability to love. She had such a wonderful sense of humor. I thought I would share the note I wrote last year following her death. It includes what I read at her funeral.

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As many of you already know, my grandmother (also known as Mom-Mom) passed away last week on April 11th, at the age of 95. I know that when most people hear that she was that old, they are like wow, and I know that my common response is that well, of course we kinda expected it might happen soon, but in reality, the world has lost a very special person and that is my response because I don't know what else to say. My grandmother was an amazing woman. I have so many memories of her that it is hard to organize them all. I'm having a hard time thinking that I will never drive the road to visit her again, or see her or talk to her. She was my last living grandparent.

I have some regrets in regard to the last few months of her life as well. I last saw her on Christmas, and she became very ill in March...I made the decision not to go see her because I didn't want to see her sick and dying like I had my other grandmother, my grandfather, and my dad. It has been very hard to get over those last visions and I didn't want that to be the way I remembered her. She got somewhat better after that incident in March, and I talked to her on her birthday. I promised I would come and see her as soon as I could, and she told me I better hurry. I never talked to her again. I have many times told myself that we need to make sure the people in our lives know that we love them and the impact they have made on us. I seem to forget that and get caught in my life too much sometimes...you would think I would learn after losing two people in my life who I regret not telling how important they were to me. I don't regret not seeing her while she was sick because my last memory of her is a happy one where she was her typical self. But I do regret not calling her more and going to see her when she was in-between her last episodes of illness. I can't tell you enough how important it is to tell those you love and care about how much they mean to you and what it is they've done for you while they are here. Not that they may not already know, but it is important that you are sure they do know. Put aside your life for a minute and take care of the person who has given you that love for so long.

I want to write more about the person she was and what I will miss, but that will take forever. Instead, I will include what I wrote and read at her funeral. I will miss her so much and wish I could hear her laughter one more time...


My Mom-Mom: March 10th, 1913 - April 11th, 2008

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking the last few days about what I could share about my mom-mom. It is hard to put 26 years worth of experiences into a few short minutes, so I’ve decided that the best thing to do is to focus on a few of my best memories and the personality traits that I will never forget. Some of my favorite memories of my mom-mom from early on are the weekends I would get to spend with her and my pop-pop by myself. I loved the fun things they would do with me. I remember walking the paths behind the manor collecting pine cones with them and always looking for the perfect one. I always looked forward to sleeping on the fun bed in the guest room. I remember extravagant Easter egg hunts, where I would race around with my sister looking for the eggs, and they would always be hidden in the perfect places. I remember her tea sets and my desire to have one, and her works of art. My mom-mom is also the one who taught me how to work a slinky and a jumping bean. I remember waking up early when we would be at the beach, and going upstairs to sneak into her bedroom so we could snuggle and talk. I remember playing card games with my mom-mom and her competiveness. She taught me many games and is probably the only one I knew who could play Kings In the Corners. I've missed playing games with her the past few years. My sister was right in that she was always trying to set us up with men she would meet, regardless of whether we were with someone at the time, but I will say that even though it was important that my family approved of my boyfriend, it was my mom-mom who had the final say. If she didn’t like him, I knew there was a problem. Over the years as I became more involved in skating, I began to see my mom-mom less. She always let me know she supported me though, through letters and phone calls. One thing that will always stand out to me was when she flew out to Vancouver to see me and my partner compete. At 86, this was quite a feat, and she did it anyway. I was extremely thankful.

Something that always amazed me about my mom-mom is that she always seemed so much younger then she was. I find it hard to believe that for pretty much my whole life she was in her 70s and above. To me, she seemed to have endless energy and joy, and for a long time, she would be darned if something kept her from doing what she wanted to do. Maybe it was her unforgettable smile or her absolutely joyous laugh that you could recognize no matter where you were. I will never be able to forget the smile on her face when she saw me walking towards her last Christmas, or her laughing as she argued with B about whether penguins had fir or feathers. She was even able to laugh at the many times I would accidentally bump her into things when pushing her in her wheelchair. Even as her body aged, my mom-moms mind and heart were still young. She was tenacious and determined, and I believe I have that same determination in me. Mom-mom was also a flirt. Oh boy did she like to flirt with men. Young or old, married to one of her granddaughters or someone else, she didn’t care. But despite her flirting, her love for my pop-pop always shone through. I can’t think of their relationship without thinking of love. Despite how her mind began to become more confused as the years passed, she was always able to talk to me about my pop-pop with clarity. Two Christmas’s ago, when I was visiting, she had letters from him in her room. I read some and asked her about how they met and their courtship and I learned things I hadn’t before, and all the while she was talking to me, she was giggling and smiling. I loved it. I loved my mom-mom and will miss her dearly. I will so miss her smile and laughter. I will miss playing card games with her and having her call me the wrong name. But I am happy that she is in a place where she gets to see my dad and even more so that she gets to be with the man she loved so much, after waiting so long to be reunited.

Writing

Not too long ago, I posted about my grandfather. At the time, I was really hoping to share a piece that I wrote about him in college, but was unable to find it. Lo and behold, I was going through the boxes in our garage yesterday and I found a copy of it! I thought I would share, and added a few pictures to it as well. It is a bit long, but I hope you'll read it.
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The relationship between grandparents and their grandchildren varies greatly from family to family. I have heard from some people how they can't stand their grandparents and from others that their grandparents are the best people in the world. My grandparents were the best people in the world. Especially my grandfather. Nothing can describe the wonderful relationship that we had, and how much we cared about each other.

I can remember only good things about my grandfather, or "Pop-Pop" as my sister and I so affectionately called him. He was a kind and gentle man who taught me a lot about life, and who called me "Petunia." He was a small man, very skinny, but had a great sense of humor and smelled like peppermints. He always had a peppermint with him, and many times he would sneak me some after meals.

When I was little, I am not exactly sure what age it was, he spent a lot of time teaching me how to spell. He never became frustrated when I mixed up the d's with the b's and found it funny that I spelled my sister's name Heibi. He continued to work with me until one day when I finally got it right.

I remember when I would come over and he would teach me how to play the organ, and later the piano. I always tried my hardest to get the pieces right because I wanted to make him proud. Sometimes though, my sister and I would just want to have fun, and would pound on the keys causing a lot of nonsense to be played. My Pop-Pop would just laugh and let us keep playing because he knew we were having fun.


When I first learned to tell time on a clock other than the microwave, he gave me a hug and congratulated me. He made such a big deal about it that one would think I had won the Olympics.

Although Pop-Pop was not one to tell me that he loved me a lot, I always knew that he did. Whether it was the twinkle in his eye or how proud he got, I never doubted the fact that he loved me.

Never a visit would pass that he wouldn't sit on the steps near the family room to listen to the conversations that would take place between my mother and grandmother. Sometiems I sat next to him and wondered what was so interesting, others, I would go and play the organ and try to get attention.

Birthdays were some of my favorite times. Shortly after we would arrive at my grandparent's house, my Pop-Pop would start playing Happy Birthday on the organ. I looked forward to the beautiful sound, and knew that I wouldn't leave without hearing the familiar notes.

Pop-Pop was diagnosed with Alzheimer's around the time I was in first grade. I didn't know what it meant at the time, just that he was sick. Times with my grandfather changed a lot after that. He didn't call me Petunia as much, and he hstayed in his room most of the times that my sister and I came over. I tried to get him to talk as much as I could. I knew he was upset because of what was happeneing, and I wanted to make him feel good about himself. Never a visit passed when I wouldn't go into his room and give him a hug and tell him that I loved him. Good memory or not, he was still my Pop-Pop and I still loved him.

As the years passed, I began to get more involved with figure skating and didn't get to spend as much time with my grandfather. When I did visit him, I wouldn't see him for more than a few minutes because he would sit in his room watching TV. He became less social, and would no longer sit and listen to conversations between my mom and my grandmother. Birthdays were much different because he no longer played Happy Birthday.

Some days would be better than others, and it is those good days that I choose to remember. Like the day he called and I answered the phone, only to hear some familiar words from my childhood, "Hello Petunia." And on my sister's birthday when out of nowhere the notes of Happy Birthday started to play, and did so for several minutes.

There was still a special bond between my grandfather and I, and it would remain until the day that he died. Memory or not, I believe that someone can sense that they are cared about and loved.

The last time I saw my Pop-Pop, he was unconscious in a hospital bed. It was one of the hardest moments of my life knowing that I was no longer going to see him on the stairs, be able to give him a hug, or smell that familiar pepperminty smell. My last words to him were, "Hey Pop-Pop, its Petunia. I just wanted you to know that I love you and I am going to miss you very much." He squeezed my hand then, and I will forever carry that in my heart.

Sometimes, one doesn't realize how proud someone is of them until after that person dies. I always knew that my grandfather was proud of me, I just didn't realize how proud. After his funeral, my family and I were looking through his things and found a few scrapbooks. What they contained was amazing. The mementos of my childhood, all the way up to the present made me feel so special. He hadn't missed a single thing. The time he spent making the book was evident and gave me a sense of love and pride.

To this day I miss my grandfather, and wish that he could have lived to see me reach my highest level of skating, graduate from high school and become the woman I am today. However, he is with me every step of the way and I know that he is still proud of me.

And we drove away...

Well...we decided to sell the truck. If you missed my post about this a week or so ago, here it is. It was the right thing to do. My dad would have been happy I did it.

But as I mentioned in my previous post, it was very difficult for me to get rid of the truck. My dad sat in that truck. He drove it around. There was this part of me that liked that at one point in time, he had been in the same exact place that I was sitting. Does that sound weird?

In the four years since he passed away, we have gotten rid of so many of the things that my dad was a part of. We sold the house we grew up in (and where he passed), we are selling the farm, the equipment that went with the farm...all these places where he once walked, sat, and just was.

I know it is good to move on. But I also appreciate and cherish memories. Sometimes, material items help those memories along. When memories start to fade, one day, I may pick up the last Valentine's present he gave to me and spark a memory that could have been long forgotten about where we were when he gave it to me, and how proud I was that he was visiting me in my first ever apartment... (it isn't yet, but it could one day).

I'm scared to lose any of the memories because they are all I have left.

Here I am, with the truck, the day we sold it.

I guess pictures help keep memories too.

Memory Monday

I enjoyed participating in Memory Monday so much last week that I decided to do it again this week. Maybe I'll keep doing it... :)

Last week I talked about my skating, which was a huge part of my life, and really, the only sport I ever participated in. After I quit skating, I felt I needed to come up with something to do with myself...I'd been active all my life, training for upwards of 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, and I'm extremely competitive...so I needed something.

One day, while sitting in my dorm room freshman year, my boyfriend at the time, D and I were watching the news, and a piece came on about the Marine Corps Marathon. "How cool would it be to run a marathon?" I asked. "We should do it!" I was joking, but somehow my joke turned in to reality, and before I knew it, we were training for a marathon.

Here we are (I'm second from the left) finishing our very first one (we wanted to do the Marine Corps, but didn't get in...very high demand to run that one...so we ran in the first ever Baltimore Marathon instead). We really wanted to come in under 5 hours. You can see we came in just over. About a month before the marathon day, D pulled his groin and we couldn't train for two weeks. While running the marathon, he felt it pulling again, and at about mile 6, his knee started to hurt really bad. We were in the end, just happy to finish. It really is an exhilarating feeling knowing that you've pushed your body to do something so incredibly ridiculous. It is hard to explain. But amazing.

A year later, we did our second marathon, in Richmond. This picture shows me at about the 24-25 mile mark. My best memory from the marathon happened as this picture was taken. D's dad came out of the crowd and started running with us. He could tell that we were hurting and was so encouraging. I don't know if I ever told him how much I appreciated his enthusiasm and encouragement. It really helped. The Richmond Marathon is touted as "The Nation's Friendliest Marathon." Eh. Twice during the run there were protesters holding billboards of aborted children (yeah, they were against abortion and thought that was what we wanted to see while running 26 miles...), and they ran out of all food at the stops...so D and I never got any. We weren't happy about that. Food is very much needed to keep your body going during a marathon... And, they told everyone they would have masseuses available after the marathon to help cool down your muscles, etc. Well, they did for all the people that finished quickly. Not us people that finished later on...

This is D and I after we finished. We came in just under 5 hours. I look like absolute death. I had gotten a cold the day before we ran, and had not gotten much sleep the night before. Additionally, I hadn't eaten anything at all the entire day because I felt so awful in the morning and figured I would get snacks at the refreshment areas. Yeah. Not good. But we finished and we were happy with it.

I still hope to do one more. I want to run one with appropriate training and when I am healthy. I think I could finish in about 4-4.5 hours and would love to attain that goal. After that, I'd probably stop. :)

Thanks for remembering with me! For more memories, visit Jam's Own Reality.

Memory Monday

I'm trying something new today, and participating in Memory Monday from Jam's Own Reality. I've been kinda stuck with what I want to write about lately (well...not totally, I have lots of ideas, just not really feeling the passion to write them). I saw this on Kristen's blog and thought it seemed fun.

I used to be a figure skater and it was a big part of my life for 11 years. I quit almost 10 years ago (I still find that hard to believe). January, February and March are the big months for skating...when the big competitions are.

This is me, shortly after I began skating. I believe I was probably 7 or 8 here. Originally, I skated by myself and on a team. We had just finished a competition when my mom snapped this shot.

I trained hard for several years, and the work paid off. In 1993, when I was 12, I went to Mini-Nationals at the lowest level you can go, and placed third. I got nervous, and had I not, it is quite possible I could have won. I made a lot of mistakes in my free program. This is the medal podium from that competition.

My dream though, was to always skate pairs, and after placing third at Mini-Nationals, I started looking for a partner. I found one and the first year we were together, we placed second at Nationals at the Novice level. This is us competing our short program.

After three more years filled with injuries and illness and not performing up to expectation at Nationals (I got pnemonia before Nationals one year, then had an ankle sprain the next, and we both suffered from herniated discs in our backs...) we won at the Junior level. This is me and my partner (in the yellow) and our families after the Exhibition of Champions. I would have loved to have shown you pictures from the performance/podium, but those are still in a box somewhere.

Unfortunately, after this year, I started to suffer from a really bad eating disorder and the next year we ended our partnership. Regardless though, my skating is something that I am proud of, although it is at times, difficult to remember the dreams that now are not attained. Not many people can say they got to compete on the level that we did, and for that I am grateful.

Thanks for remembering with me! :)

Year in Review

I'm having one of those nights where I am nowhere near tired...and I can't think of what to do with myself. I'd love to start another book, but the ones I can find, are not satisfactory...I started one and couldn't get past the first few pages (very unlike me). Maybe I need a reading break as I return to a world that is not Twilight.

Maybe I should clean since we will be having a dinner guest tomorrow. I prefer to save that for the morning though. So, I guess, I will write my year in review post. A lot of stuff happened this year and my life continues to...make me wonder...is that the right word? I'm not sure. This will probably be long... Anyway, here goes:

January/February - I list these two months together because they were much a blur to me. A hazy time of pain and sadness and I find it hard to distinguish between what happened during what month. A spent these two months in a bout of depression that was scary and very difficult for me to handle. I knew I had been sad and been dealing with many overwhelming things in my life (agreeing to the sale of my beloved farm, working my last time at the lot in December, our contract on the perfect house falling through, and facing a loss of the passion I once felt for my job due to a lack of support during a very rough three months in which students falsely accused me of targeting them in order to get out of suspension - it didn't work at first, but I found out in December that the suspension got overturned by an administrator who never felt it necessary to talk to me and get my side of the story...imagine how it felt to someone who loved her job and always worked hard to do the right thing...) but I did not want to admit to myself that I was depressed and needed help. I spent several weeks sad, on edge, trapped in my head, unable to sleep and barely eating. When all was said and done, I had lost 15 pounds. I knew what was wrong, but to admit it was very hard. I have seen my mom struggle with being bi-polar for much of my life, and I didn't want that to be me. I finally went to the doctor though, and she put me on some medication. The first stuff I tried made me worse...I felt sick to my stomach all the time, my heart would race, and in general it didn't make me feel good. So, I tried something else, and eventually things started to look up. It was a difficult time. I was very glad for people like K, who took care of me and helped me get back on my feet.

March - I turned 26 (yikes, not a fan of birthdays...I liked being in my early 20s!), and B and I finally went under contract on a house. K and I traveled to Atlanta for a conference, and had a lot of fun together, as we always do. It was at this time that I became firm in my decision that I would not return to my job after the end of the school year in June (couldn't anyway if I bought a house, I had to live on-campus to have my job) and while I was glad to have made the decision, it was also sad to commit to leave a field I had spent 7 years of my life doing. It was the absolute right decision for me though, and I've never thought otherwise.

April - After a lot of discussion, B and I decided to add a high-content wolfdog pup to our family. We have both always loved wolves, B has had a mid-content wolfdog for the past 5 years...there is something about them that have always just drawn me to them... So, we traveled 6 hours round trip to pick up Titan, a pup who was 1 generation away from a full wolf. He became the light of our days...a loving little bugger who was always into something. We committed ourselves fully to making sure he was raised the right way...socialized a lot, and experiencing new things. He loved to howl with me. :) Although he took a lot of work, we were dedicated to raising him right (and he fell in love with my chow-mix Jasmine). Shortly after we got him, my grandmother passed away on April 11th. My grandmother was my last remaining grandparent and she passed away at the age of 95. I last saw her on Christmas, as I made the decision not to go see her when she started to fail, for fear of that being my last memory of her...I am still haunted by my memories of my dad's final days, and of my other grandmother's...and although I wish I could have seen her one more time, I'm hoping this decision proves to have been the right one. My grandmother was an amazing woman. She loved her children and grandchildren passionately...and she had the most amazing laugh. I miss her terribly.

May - May brought an onslaught of emotions and experiences. On May 8th, Titan escaped his enclosure and ran out on the road. He was hit by a car...it was dreadful. We believe he was hit during the time we were looking for him. I had never had a pet die that way...I couldn't stop sobbing. I still miss that little booger even though it has been over 6 months. It still brings tears to my eyes to think about him or to even look at his picture. B lost a buddy when Titan passed away...they had a special bond. The day after Titan passed away, I had to go on a White Water Rafting trip as an chaperone. It was difficult to go...but it was a good escape. I had never been white water rafting before, and I absolutely loved it. I was cold the entire time. :) When I returned from the trip, B and I went back up to get another wolf pup...B had told the breeder what had happened, and he offered us another one as he felt it was the only way we would heal...how could we resist when we had wanted a wolf pup so badly? So, we went back up and ended up with Kaos, who is even higher content then Titan was. He is not Titan. But he is our baby. We love him dearly, and we have learned a lot with him. I cannot begin to tell you the joy he has brought us. That same week B and I closed on our house, and got engaged. :) May 16th! It felt so amazing to finally have a place of my own. And to know that someone loved me enough to actually put up with all my craziness and want to marry me!

June - June brought the end of the school year, the end of my job, and moving. It was the month in which I said goodbye to many friends as they moved to different areas, and realized I would no longer be a part of an amazing group of people (my wonderful staff...even though I did not like my job, I loved my staff). It brought a visit from my mom (almost two weeks...that was not easy!), and an insane amount of wedding planning. It brought fishing, and grass mowing and many of my animals together. All the dogs and cats were finally in one place...

July - B's birthday was in July, we spent it at a friend's wedding. We also adopted some horses for the farm, as well as a few goats. We continued our wedding planning...I made the invitations and sent them out. I had my bridal shower back in Delaware, and K flew out to be there with me. It was the first time I had to spend a significant amount of time with many of my family in several years...and so it was a challenge. But I got through. I also binged on books in July. I read an insane amount as I got used to my free time and not having my days planned out. I did however, struggle with what to do with myself and had no motivation to get anything done. I think I just needed a break after a tough year. I also decided to go off my medication in July...I wanted to try and handle things on my own...I don't particularly like anti-depressants...I do not like the way they make you feel. And I felt that since I was no longer stuck in a job I disliked, and was further away from the sadness I had felt in January, that it was time. It seems to have been the right decision.

August - I honestly don't remember much of August. I do believe we started catfishing in August. I'm not the biggest fan. :) I also started this blog in August. My hope in starting the blog was that I would find my love for writing again. I'm still trying to find it. Although I find it somewhat easy to post about my life...I want to WRITE. I want to write stories and compose pieces and I want people to love them and want to read them. I'm still hopeful that I'll get over the writer's block. We also got another wolfdog pup in August. We wanted a friend for Kaos...so we ended up with Cynder. We got Cynder when she was about 6 months...not the ideal time to get a wolfdog if they haven't been appropriately socialized, and she wasn't. In addition, she escaped from us not once (we never thought we'd see her again...it was within the first 24 hours we had her) but twice. We spent several weeks in August trying to catch her, and being very frustrated. It was trying on us emotionally. But we did finally catch her. She is still skittish and scared, but we are still working with her. She has warmed up to me more then B, and I wish we had warmer weather right now so I could spend more time in the kennel with her. I also got thrown from one of the horses in August and wound up with some pretty serious injuries. Twisted my ankle (it still hurts), jammed my back (still going to the chiropractor in hope it will go back to normal), and scraped my arm up. I have a nice scar...and this was all a month before the wedding!

September - Well, hmm. September. :) We spent most of September cleaning up the yard and gardens preparing for our wedding. We got married on September 20th. It was a beautiful day. It defines my September really. I did, however, start teaching a class again with the new school year and also started a new job at a daycare in September...I decided it was time to get out of the house...and I love kids, so I thought it would be perfect. Haha...I was wrong...

October - October was probably one of the most calm months of the year for me. I was saddened by the fact that Teddy, the horse we were fostering was picked up and taken to a new home. On the other hand, B and I made a trip up to the farm and picked up the last of the animals that were up there. So I finally had all of them together. I no longer have to worry about whether they are ok...they are here, and I can go and check on them whenever I want! :)

November - I gave my two MONTHS notice that I was quitting my job on November 1st. The result was that my hours were cut back...in half. I should have given two weeks notice for all that was worth... I decided that working at the daycare was not the place for me. Although I loved the kids, the people I work for are...not the best...and it is an extremely frustrating environment. I continue to look for something new...something that I will look forward to doing...that I am passionate about...that I feel is right for me. It has not been easy. I spent a lot of the month under the weather with a dreaded cold. It SUCKED. The end of the quarter came, and even though I was suprised at the attitudes of my students, I'll probably teach it again next year if I can. B and I celebrated our first Thanksgiving together as a married couple, and it was nice. :) I also started couponing and have become quite addicted...

December - This month has been rather bland. I'm not the biggest fan of holiday shopping, and always had an excuse not to do it before because I was selling trees. Now, I am trying to make it through my first December not being at the lot. It has been both nice (not to have to be outside in the cold and rain) and sad (I miss the people and the smell of the trees). I'm looking forward to my first Christmas in this house with B and spending it with his family. I'm looking forward to the new traditions. I'm looking forward to my last day of work (Friday!) and a short break before I begin substituting.

I guess as I look back on this last year...so much happened. I felt a lot of pain, a lot of hopelessness and also, a lot of joy. This year was a year of change for me. I hope it is not wrong to feel that I hope next year is calmer? I don't want to look back at next year and see so many sad things that happened. Although I struggle some with where life is taking me, I feel that I am also beginning to grow in better ways. I'm starting to move on from things that have haunted me...even though they do sometimes come back and hit me worse. I'm trying to look for the positive things in life, to enjoy them and to enjoy what I have. I have a wonderful, loving husband, a beautiful house and all my furbabies. I have good friends and for the time being, a pretty stable life. I know that not a lot of people have that. I am grateful for what I have.

Here's to hoping that 2009 brings some exciting adventures, and hopefully a new, right job to my life. But mostly, to hoping that my family and friends stay safe and happy.

The Tree Lot

Every year for the past 30-some years my family sold our own Christmas trees on a little lot in Delaware. My dad would spend a week to two weeks up at the farm in the end of November, cutting trees and then bailing them, loading them, driving the 6 hours to Delaware, and unloading them in to trailers at the lot. He was very proud of the freshness of our trees. We were told that some of our trees lasted until Easter (we have to give credit to the people who were keeping these trees too...they must have known exactly what to do!), and we had customers who came every single year.

Helping people find their tree was always an interesting experience. Some people were picky, others were not. Some you could show a tree and that was it. Some you could show a tree, and another and another and another...and another...and guess what? They went back to the first tree they looked at. Others still, would not like anything we had out, and would ask us to look for a tree back in the trailer. Almost every time we had to pull a tree out of the trailer, the person would take it. I always wondered why that was. Did they think it was fresher? They always said it was because we were good at finding exactly what they wanted. But I'm not too sure of that. :)

I loved the way the lot smelled. Nothing beats the smell of fresh Christmas trees in my mind. There are a lot of people nowadays who ask the age old question...should I buy a fake tree or stick with a real tree? I can never argue for a fake tree (goes against my principle!) but I just couldn't see not having the smell of a fresh evergreen at Christmas time. Not only that, but did you know that Christmas trees use more Carbon Dioxide as they grow then regular trees do? So, cutting and re-planting is actually good for the environment...even though a lot of people use the argument that cutting live trees is bad for the environment (it is NOT true).

After my dad passed away, I took over the lot. I ran it myself for 4 years. Long-time customers were surprised that I remembered the trees they always wanted, but I had watched my dad closely the year before (the only year I worked with him the whole month of December), and I am lucky I have a nearly photographic memory. If I didn't know what they wanted, I made sure to take notes so I'd remember the next year. It wasn't always easy running the lot. It could be cold, wet on rainy days, or even boring standing outside for 10-12 hours a day. But I loved the people. I loved finding them the perfect tree, and felt pride at how much they loved our trees. I loved making wreaths for them and hearing their stories about previous trees or why they had loved coming to the lot and talking to my dad. Some said they would never buy a tree elsewhere, and made sure every year it was the same family selling. I loved that the kids would remember Jasmine and ask me where she was because they wanted to play with her.


There was a changing of hands when my dad passed away...a very unexpected one. His death was a shock...he had seemed so healthy and wasn't sick the last time they bought their tree. A lot of our customers cried when they found out he had passed away...they cared about him. But they came to care about me. They had heard stories about me for many years from my dad, and because of that, they felt they knew me. They were happy I continued to sell trees. It was a tradition in their family to come to our lot, just as it was a tradition in mine to sell trees.

This is my first year not being at the lot. Last year was my last. I didn't have the guts to tell our customers we wouldn't be back, even though I knew, because I didn't want to see the sadness on their faces. It was a difficult year for me at tree time last year. I cried a lot after we shut down, knowing I wouldn't see any of those people again. I cried thinking that I probably hadn't sold the best tree to some people, even though that was the tree they wanted...and hated it was the last tree they would get from us, and I cried thinking about the fact that they would show up this year and wonder where we had gone. It was out of my hands though, and no matter how badly I wanted to continue to sell trees...there was no way I could, as our farm was being sold (not by my choice...long story).

It has been a bit of a struggle for me not to be at the lot in Delaware this year. I feel quite a bit of loss. My mom has called me several times to let me know that people have called asking where we were. And it makes me sad.

There is the part of me that knows, that this is probably for the best. I have moved on in my life...I am married now, and spending 6 weeks away from B to sell trees, just isn't really feasible. With our new house and responsibilities, it would also have been very hard to continue my responsibilities at the tree farm had I been able... But, that doesn't always make it any easier. The other part says I could still do it, I would find a way. That part feels it is so ingrained in who I am...that it feels wrong to not be there. It tells me if I had really wanted it...I would have done it. And it hurts.

This year will be the first year in my 26 years that I will have a Christmas tree that is not one of my families. It will be the first time I will go somewhere and pick one out with my husband. The start of something new at the end of something else.

Traditions

As it is the holiday season, one of the things I've been thinking about lately is traditions. Traditions feel and seem so important. But how do I start traditions within my own new family?

Growing up, we did not have many holiday traditions. For a few years of my youth, my mom would take out Christmas decorations such as her Department 56 village, and I loved setting it up. My sister and I also had the annual Christmas card picture posing to look forward to. We actually hated the day my mom took the Christmas picture because it would mean standing in the same position for at least an hour while she tried to get us in the right pose. But looking back on those pictures now, I see how creative she was and how original a lot of those pictures were. We also loved decorating the Christmas tree, and every year we looked forward to unwrapping the different decorations, and trying to find our favorite ones. One of my favorite parts of Christmas morning was opening my stocking, as it was often hidden and my sister and I had to find it. Once we found it, that was the one thing we were allowed to open when my parents weren't with us. So, we often opened them together...very early in the morning. But other then those few things, we didn't do much. And after we found out about Santa Claus, and got involved in skating, and my mom went back to work...we didn't decorate at all. In fact, even the picture Christmas cards stopped. And for a time, so even, did the Christmas tree (which made no sense...since we sold Christmas trees). The only thing that stayed constant was that we would spend Christmas with the family, always going up to my dad's brother's house.

Right now, I am finding myself in an entirely new place in life. This is the first year of my life that the family is not selling trees...which means I actually have to go out looking for a tree...but also that I can decorate my own place for once. The first year I will not be home in Delaware for the month of December, or even for Christmas for that matter. It is the first year that I actually have a house to decorate, and the first year I will spend with my husband...as our own little family.

So what traditions to I want to try and start? What traditions would I eventually like my children to look forward to every holiday season? Every Christmas morning?

I am actually having trouble thinking of many. I do not know what kinds of things to start. I DO know that there are a few that have taken hold of me in one way or another...I have no idea how. I LOVE having Pillsbury cinnamon rolls for breakfast on holiday mornings. Thanksgiving and Christmas especially. They taste yummy, and aren't so filling that you ruin your holiday dinner. I've continued to make them as we've had our first holidays together. I want to decorate the house at some point...probably not too much this year, as we don't have many decorations, but in coming years after we have time to hit sales. I want to go Christmas tree hunting every year on the same weekend, and have fun ornaments to put on our tree. I want to have fun, homemade Christmas picture cards...not the ones that get made at Walmart or other photo places. But ones I put together at home, like my mom and dad and even my grandfather did. But other then that...I can't think of anything else. It is something I will continue to think about this year and in the coming years...and that I hope B contributes to as well. I'd love to carry on traditions that were prevalent in his family.

What traditions did you have in your family during the holiday season that you always looked forward to? I've seen so many as I've blogged...I'd love to know how they got started, and why you love those traditions. What new ones did you start when you began a family of your own? I'd love to hear your stories, as I begin to look for my own.

P.S. We have by the way, at least continued with picture Christmas cards. I do not have the time or ability to put together the kind I would like this year due to many factors, but we did our own. It represents me and B quite well...we love each other and one of the reason we love each other is our ability to be goofy and make each other laugh... :) So, here it is:

Grief

Lately, I've been thinking about my dad a lot. Not the happy memory thinking, but the "man I miss him so much that it pains me" thinking. Sometimes I am surprised that four years later (I can't believe it is four years later...), I still grieve for him just as much. Not in the same ways that I used to grieve...where I would cry and be mad...but just the sad how I wish I could pick up the phone and hear his voice grieving. The, every time I think of him it still brings tears to my eyes grieving. I often wonder how long this grieving will continue.

It is probably the season. This is the time of year my dad loved so much. It was tree time. He got to spend a month outside, selling the trees he worked so hard to raise, and talk to the customers that came to buy them...many of them buying them year after year. He was so proud of those trees. I was proud to continue selling them, and as I have mentioned before, am struggling with the fact this is the first year I will not be. I am trying to let it go though.

When my dad passed away, I lost an amazing friend. I was a definite "daddy's girl." I sure didn't know that all the time. We had our ups and downs as I was growing up and sometimes I thought I hated him because he expected so much from me or imposed such strict guidelines on me as I was growing up. I can of course, look back on those days now and be thankful for what he did...it is because of him that I have a firm work ethic and firm morals.

My dad had a great smile and laugh. I miss hearing him laugh. His laugh filled a room and was contagious, and when he smiled, you couldn't help but smile back. He worked hard for his family...even when he knew he was at the end, he wanted to make sure we would be ok when he was gone.

When my dad first found out he had cancer, a wise man told me to make sure I told him everything I needed to tell him. That I should be grateful I had the opportunity to let my dad know how much I cared about him, etc. I struggled with that idea. I felt like telling my dad the things I felt bad about... like how I treated him once at a competition we were at when I was struggling through so many things in my life...how much I loved him and appreciated all he did for us... meant that I was giving up on him. That I believed he wasn't going to beat it. And so, I never told him. I waited until he couldn't respond, until I have no idea whether he actually heard what I said. And that bothered me. I wanted him to know. I know the first thing people will want to say is, don't worry he knew. I'm not saying he didn't know I loved him. Or that I went through the growing pains that all teenagers went through. But to have said it would have taken a huge burden off my chest... that way I would know that he knew for sure that I understood my past mistakes.

The hardest thing for me is not being able to pick up the phone to call him and get his advice. Especially as I go through new things and sometimes struggle to find my footing in life. My dad always had the best advice...even when I didn't like it. He had so many life experiences and he knew something about everything. I was only fortunate enough to learn a tiny bit of what he had taught himself over the years. You see, I thought I was going to have many years to learn what he knew. I miss calling and just saying hi. I miss his excitement. Really, I miss everything.

Grief sucks.

Dear Diary...

As I was cleaning last night, I came across my first diary. You know, the ones with the my diary lock that you really can open no matter what? I got this diary when I was 8...and never finished it...even though I wrote in it until I was 14 on and off. My problem was probably that I had several other diaries/journals and I never knew which one I should be writing in... :) Reading back on these entries made me laugh, as did seeing how my writing style changed over the years. I laugh when I think about what I thought was important to write about, or even how I thought I had to act "cool" when writing in a diary. Ah, the days when I had no clue about life...

I thought I would share an entry with you all. This is from the first year I had the diary, and pretty much every entry from this period of time was the same...I was 8, and I apparently couldn't spell.

Wensday, Aug 6, 1990

Dear Diary,

Today I went to
my cusins Lauren
We are spending
The night at her
house. Her pet
Nekki is hear and
she is a cat.
I love Lauren
and Nekki. Well
my cousen calling
me to go to bed,
Love,
Wolf

Forgotten Dreams

I spent pretty much the whole day up until 2:00 without power. I was kind of frustrated not having power, especially for so long. Not having power did give me the opportunity to try and unpack some more though, so I spent about 2 hours in our spare room (also known as the room that has most of the boxes that still need to be unpacked in it...and it has TONS of boxes...) and actually went through a lot of stuff. I found some things to sell at the yard sale, some things to throw away, and things that now have a place in our home. I also found many memories.

One of the reasons that I have a hard time getting things unpacked or ever throwing things away because most of the time I start going through things, I find stuff from a long time ago and start reminiscing. Today, I found a box FULL of my old skating items. Competition results, letters from the USFSA, competition programs, news articles, etc. Some of the things I had no idea that my parents had copies of...and I'm assuming this box came from my parents house when my mom sold it after my dad passed away.

As I got to going through this box...I was overtaken with a feeling of nostalgia. For 11 years, I dreamt of going to the Olympics, and I spent 8 of those years training hard, several hours a day, to make this dream come true. A few of those years, I was a singles skater. But the last few, I was a pairs skater (which was what I had always hoped to do). My partner and I worked hard...and we had potential.

A lot of the times when I tell people I was a figure skater (I don't really tell them anymore...it is a part of my life that I defined me for so long, that I wanted to be known as something else, rather then "the figure skater girl"), the first question I get asked is "Were you good?" I've always hated that question. You say yes, and people think you are stuck up. You say no, and well, you might not be telling the truth. I started answering it with, we had potential.

My partner and I metaled twice at the National level...winning the Junior National Pairs title was our highest achievement. We competed internationally...in Germany, Canada and Russia. We were considered the up-and-comers. We firmly believed that we would go to the Olympics in 2002. And for 5 years, everything we worked toward was with this goal and dream in mind.

Figuring Skating is a tough sport though. Especially when you are a pairs skater. I ended up with several injuries...herniated discs, a severely twisted ankle the week before Nationals one year after my partner dropped me, whiplash in my neck after I went head first into the boards...the list goes on. I was lucky that he never dropped me on my head or face as happens with some pair girls. My back was the worst injury, and the one that never healed (I still have back pain today). Sometimes the pain would go down my leg. But, I digress. The point it, that even through pain, you continued to work hard and focus on your dream and your goal.

As a pair girl it is also expected that you stay thin and work several hours off the ice to stay thin. I didn't have a problem with staying thin until my grandfather passed away. I gained a few pounds and everything spiraled from there. My eating disorder ended up being the end of my skating career, and the end of my dream.

I grieved the loss of the Olympic dream for a long time. When you focus on something for so long, and it is suddenly no longer a part of your life...you aren't sure how to let go. I watched as the people we competed against...and had beaten, went to the Olympics instead of us. I was jealous and sad. It was supposed to be me.

For some time, I tricked myself into believing that my dream wasn't really dead, and I would start skating again and eventually go to the Olympics. When I finally realized that skating was probably not an option, I thought maybe I'd go in something else... The Olympics will always hold special meaning to me. I still long to go. When it is an Olympic year, I love to watch the coverage...the opening ceremonies, everything. Although it typically makes me sad as well. But in the past few years, I've pushed that dream away and realized that my life is different now...and my dreams have changed... Sometimes though, it is sad to remember the ones that you have given up...or have been forced to give up because of circumstances...

The farm

When my dad was very young, he had a dream. His dream was to own a Christmas Tree Farm, and when he turned 22, he made his dream happen. Everyone thought he was crazy, but he bought 204 acres of land that he felt was perfect for the farm he had always dreamed of. The only thing that wasn't perfect about this piece of land was that it was 6 hours away. He didn't really mind. He would drive up on Friday nights and return on Sunday evenings. He was determined to make it work. He built a house on the land and planted trees. He began selling them at the convenience store he owned in Wilmington, and later on, when he sold the convenience store, he found a lot that he would sell on every December. My dad loved the farm, and he loved selling Christmas Trees. He loved talking to people when they would come to buy from him and he loved that he had return customers year after year. He was very proud of his trees. He put time and effort in to every tree and he was proud of the fact that he raised them.

The farm was a part of my life from the moment I was born. In fact, my dad set my sister and I to work in the fields as soon as we were old enough to work. :) I can remember tagging small trees in the rows so my dad didn't mow over them. There are many pictures of my sister and I trimming the smaller trees as well. We loved going to the farm. Our favorite trips up were the ones when we left at midnight. My parents would come in and wake us up and let us pile in to the car in our jammies. My sister and I felt so special riding up in our jammies. We would stop along the side of the road and sleep when my dad got tired and we would typically stop at Mister Donut in the morning for donut holes and a restroom break. We thought we were so cool going inside in our jammies.

The farm was a place where we would explore. We loved the old railroad beds that were filled with rocks and would play with slugs and snails. We would collect monarchs in September, we would wait on him in November when he would be cutting the trees to bring down and we would wander the fields in the summer. We looked forward to our time up there. It instilled in me a work ethic, and truly a love of selling trees. December was a time we would go to the lot and visit our dad, and spend hours at the lot with him. It was long hours for him. But we loved it. :)

When we got older, long trips in the car were not as fun. And we got busier with our lives. When I skated, I stopped going up so much. I could no longer spend two weeks up at the farm in the summer or wanted to spend 12 hours in the car after a week of training. And I must admit I got lazy. But there were times my dad was able to convince me to go up, and we would spend the weekend together. I still loved the farm- I was just being a teenager and was more worried about my life. I always hoped that one day when my dad decided he had had enough, that I would be able to run the farm myself.

My dad saw the farm through a lot. He realized his dream of owning cattle. He cried when the house caught fire and most of it was destroyed. He was determined to rebuild everything and make the farm what he wanted it to be. He knew it could be a very successful venture, and he planned to move up there full time once he retired. And when he retired, he started going up to the farm even more frequently. But he had only been retired three months before his diagnosis.

When my dad got sick, he had to decide what to do with the farm. He was surprised for some reason when I told him that I would be devastated if he decided to sell it. I wanted it more then anything. And my sister said the same thing. I will admit that that surprised me a bit. Even though she loved to be up there, my sister was not as outdoorsy as I was. She didn't really care as much for manual labor. And that was a difference between the two of us. In the end though, my dad decided to leave the farm to both of us. I knew it would be a lot of work, but I was up for it.

For the past 4 years, the farm was a huge part of my life. I did four tree seasons. Each was successful. I began to make the farm my second home. I started fixing up the house. I left some of my animals up there in care of our manager. I bought my first ever horses and was so excited they were there. It was a place I would go to escape. A place where I felt my happiest. A place where I felt so close to my dad. I saw him in every little thing at the farm. Each of the trees, in every field. Riding on the equipment and working the fields. He was there. I was walking in the places he walked. It might sound weird, but it made me feel better to be there. I would spend every summer there and work hard to get things where they needed to be. For 5 weeks, from the day after Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve, I would be in Delaware selling trees. I knew holding a job in Ohio I couldn't fully commit myself to the farm, but I planned to make my life there once I was more established and had the farm generating more income.

There were a lot of things working against me from the moment we took over the farm. My sister eventually lost interest and didn't want to keep running it. My family didn't believe in me. And, the farm was actually put in a trust to be distributed when I get older...my dad thought this was the right thing (it was not...I would never suggest doing this...). Well, to make a long story short, the bank that holds the trust did not want to keep a property. They have fought me tooth and nail. Eventually they pushed and withheld funds enough that I was forced to agree that we would sell the property.

This was a very hard decision for me. It meant giving up something I felt I was destined to do. I loved every aspect of the tree business. I really loved running the business and selling trees to customers my dad had been selling to for over 30 years. It continues to hurt when I think about not being able to go up there anymore... B was influential in my decision to sell. I knew he wouldn't be happy with me leaving for 5 weeks in December to sell trees in Delaware. I committed to being with him in Ohio and we decided to start a life on a farm in Ohio. Traveling 8 hours to a farm every month would not be something that excited him.

Well...believe it or not, when I finally said I would sell, the rest of my family freaked out. They didn't think the farm would ever be out of the family. Regardless of whether they wanted the responsibility of taking care of it. I guess they thought I wouldn't sell. Kind of hard not to when everyone is doing what they can to prohibit you from succeeding though...and somehow I always knew they never really wanted it sold...they just didn't want to be the ones to care for it. My sister especially became upset when I said I was going to sell...and eventually we decided that we would keep the house and 10 acres and sell the rest. And right now, we are currently in the process of finding a buyer and getting our stuff from there. Or more, I am trying to get my stuff. And my animals...which I have worried about for months since our farm manager had to find another job...one that took him out of state for most of the month, and the animals were pretty much left on their own in the pasture.

B and I made a trip up to the farm Thursday night. 8 hours. We slept in the truck when we arrived...got about 4 hours sleep, woke up, ate breakfast, and got to work. 3 hours later we had packed up more of the tools I had up there and loaded up the three remaining animals I had up there...my horses. We then drove 8 hours back. 16 hours of driving in 28 hours. We were tired and exhausted, but I can't even tell you how much better I feel knowing that my animals are finally home with me, and I know they are being taken care of the best they can be.

Going up to the farm was hard for me. Seeing the trees no longer trimmed. Knowing that this year, for the first time in close to 40 years, those trees will not be sold in Delaware. That people are planning on me being there to sell those trees...trees they love to buy because they knew my dad, and they knew we cut them fresh. Also, seeing that the house isn't in very good shape because people broke in...seeing that they also broke in to my camper and have been using it to party. It hurts me and is very hard. B doesn't understand. He feels the farm is just a place that will be a burden for us. I've tried to explain my connection to the place. That it is the last piece I have of my dad...that it was the one thing I did that I felt truly good at and successful doing. It is hard to let go. Maybe one day I'll get there...I'm not sure.

I'll share pictures and more later. But that is where I've been the last two days...

Pumpkin Carving!

B and I carved pumpkins today. I absolutely loved it. I haven't carved pumpkins for a long time...at least since I went to college 8 years ago. B even told me that he had fun...and he isn't the biggest fan of Halloween (he doesn't like the scary ghoulish type things...neither do I).

Pumpkin carving when I was little was always a lot of fun. Every year, I had my dad carve me almost the exact same pumpkin. It had to have heart eyes, a triangle nose, and then whatever I drew for a mouth (typically some weird tooth filled grin). As we were drawing our pumpkin faces and my dad was carving them, my mom would take the seeds and bake them so we could munch on them later. It was a family event...one I looked forward to every year, and one that sometimes got overlooked once I started skating, and once our family got busier. I loved pumpkin carving. I hope if B and I have kids that we will always remember how much fun pumpkin carving can be, even when our lives get busier.

I am glad we have a home now where we can carve and display our creations! This is the first time I have ever made a pumpkin that doesn't have a face. I tried to go the more artistic route this time (and will admit I had some help...I'm not that artistic!)

B and his pumpkin...a Headless Horseman

Me and my pumpkin...harder to see because it took me much longer then B...but mine is a bat

Our two finished pumpkins, proudly displayed :)

Dinner

I was reading Imperfect's post about family and dinner last night as I was attempting to wind down from an incredibly long day (yes, after 5.5 hours of running after 2-year olds, and changing diapers, I could barely keep my eyes open), and it made me really think about what dinner's have meant to me over the years.

For a long time when I was young, my family ate dinner together most nights. My dad worked night shift at times, so there were days he could not join us, but for the most part, for my early years, every night was spent at the kitchen table eating something my mom had cooked. My mom did not really like to cook...everything she did was very basic, but what mattered was that we were at the dinner table together.

As I grew up, and became more involved in skating, we didn't have as many family dinners. Sometimes my mom was working, sometimes my dad. We often ate out (every Tuesday was McDonald's night), or dinner was whatever we made when we got home. When I first started watching what I was eating, I began to cook some dinners, and I do remember a few nights spent together with my experiments...but that was few and far between. For a long time also, because of my eating disorder, meals were a scary time for me. They were not something to be enjoyed. They resulted in fears of gaining weight and calorie counting... Looking back now, I feel we really missed out on some good family times. I don't think I realized this as a teenager...really, I was more concerned about the things that were going on in my life to worry about sitting down and eating with my parents. And I don't think this was anyone's fault. We were all struggling through our own busy schedules and troubles in life...but I feel our family would have been much stronger and tighter, if we would have taken an hour out of our days to catch up with each other and have a REAL conversation. Because meals are the perfect opportunity for that...and it is so hard to have a real conversation at any other point during the day (especially for a busy family).

When I went to college, I ate with my boyfriend, or ate alone in my room. The dining halls were gross, and home-cooked meals were few and far between. :) I did look forward to the conversations my boyfriend and I would have during those times.

When I finally moved in to my own apartment, I was so excited to finally have a kitchen where I could cook...but I was in grad school, and that equaled no time to cook. Well...I cooked a bit. But not much. And I had no one to eat it with really.

I thought when I graduated and started a job, I'd have more time. But what I hated was that I was cooking for just me. What was the point of making a meal when I'd have a ton of leftovers I'd never eat?

When B and I started dating, we tried to eat as many meals together as possible. We made sure to at least eat one meal together, regardless of whether he was working or I was working (we had that luxury since we worked at the same place). I really came to look forward to those meals together. It was our time. We would laugh together, talk with each other, and review our days. It was time for conversation that we might not have gotten otherwise. I started to enjoy eating. I saw mealtime as a happy time, rather then just a time that I had to put something in my stomach. I started to plan for our meals...when before, I would just snack on something as I was working or going from one place to the next. With B, I found my love of food and meal time again.

When we moved in to our new house, and I left my job, we were both able to be home for dinner. If I come home first, I try to cook, and vice versa. Some nights though, we cook together. We make a concerted effort to stop whatever we are doing at dinner time and sit at our small kitchen table and eat together. Some times we don't need to have a conversation, and we will just sit and enjoy the food. Other days, when we haven't had much time to talk during the day, it is our time to catch up and just sit together. I truly cherish this time together. I believe that we both do. I know when one of us cannot be home for dinner because of another commitment, it feels weird and as if something is off. Breakfast and lunch can be spent apart (although often we try to find ways to eat together for lunch), but dinner is to be spent together. It is a bonding time and a time when we get to make something together and enjoy it together.

I also love it because I can FINALLY experiment and make the meals I've been dying to make for so long. It truly is a goal of mine to be a good cook...and be able to make some fantastic meals. If I have kids, I want to cook and bake with them. I really think that meals provide such an amazing opportunity to bond and spend quality time together.

Our table is small right now...as we are a small family and just starting out. But I hope over the years as we begin to establish ourselves, that we will begin hosting big family dinners. I love big family dinners...where there is so much conversation and laughter around the table... And if our family grows, that we will continue to keep the meaning of eating together and always take that time together. When else do you get such a perfect time to give your undivided attention to those you love?

The Wings of A Butterfly

Memories...

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For as far back as I can remember, my sister and I looked forward to the end of August/beginning of September. Not for the beginning of school, but for our family trip to our tree farm in Northern PA over Labor Day Weekend. Granted, we went to the farm many a weekend over the summer and throughout the year, but Labor Day weekend was special. It was the weekend that Monarch caterpillars were out in full force.

My dad loved insects of all shapes and sizes. When he was young, he collected them, and had an extremely large collection when he got married to my mom...only to have them blow away when they were moving once (it was always a sore subject with him). When he got older, he moved on to more specific "bugs." Like tarantulas. I was lucky enough never to meet any of his pet tarantulas (he even went to Mexico once to find some), but my mom was once greeted by one near the light switch when they first started dating. Talk about a shock.

He knew so much about bugs. If I found a caterpillar or butterfly I found interesting, he would tell me all about it. He had a special fondness for Monarchs...I never asked him why, but I think it had something to do with the amount we had up at the farm. Hundreds of thousands of them, if not more. And he passed that fondness on to his daughters.

My sister and I would go up and down the rows of trees looking at the milkweed, trying to find caterpillars. We could tell almost instantly if a caterpillar was on one of the plants, as we could see the places where they had eaten. We often liked to see who could find the smallest caterpillar, as we thought they were cute. :) We take the caterpillars off the milkweed (not at all squeamish with bugs, you see...and sometimes they even pooped or peed on us!) and stick them in our five gallon buckets, along with some milkweed for them to continue eating. That is really all the caterpillars do. Eat and eat and eat, until they get big enough to hang. One year, I made it my mission to find 100 caterpillars. And I did (100 caterpillars eating all at once makes quite a noise too).

My dad encouraged my sister and I to find these caterpillars (although he wasn't as excited about the 100 I found the one time), so we could bring them home and watch them transform to butterflies. He would make sure they had enough milkweed for the 6 hour trip home, and would continually bring home more milkweed throughout the weeks for us to feed them. And they needed new milkweed constantly, because it was either eaten quickly, or died from being broken off (imagine how much he had to get the year I brought home 100. See why he wasn't that excited?).

He would put them in a glass aquarium with sticks (for hanging) and of course, an escape-proof top (but we had escapees anyway...we'd be cleaning months later to find a used chrysalis on the bottom of a chair or under a table...and say oh, that's where that one came from...because yes, sometimes we'd come home and a butterfly would be flying around the house, waiting to be let outside). When a caterpillar would hang itself and eventually become a chrysalis, he would take them out and put them over a glass, so we could prepare for its hatching. The hatching was an incredible site. To see the butterfly break free from its shell - huge body and small wings - only to watch as it dried and the wings grew and the body became small, and as it took its first tentative flutters with its wings. It was incredible.

Some days, we would have 10-20 butterflies hatch. After their wings would dry we would put them outside the door to let them fly away as they were ready, or we would take them out and urge them to fly ourselves. Imagine the postman's surprise when he walked up to our door one day to see all the butterflies outside. He asked my mom "do you realize you have 8 butterflies outside your door?" She smiled and he enjoyed the sight.

My dad encouraged my sister and I to take some of the butterflies in to class with us so that other children could see the process of caterpillar to butterfly. My teachers and classmates always loved it (and I loved the fact that it was my family that brought in the cool experiment!).

I never grew sick of catching caterpillars, even as I grew up and moved on with my life. When I got too busy to go to the farm, I often asked my dad to bring me back some caterpillars once Labor Day arrived. He always told me I had to come in order to get any...his way of trying to get me to spend a weekend with him...

Those caterpillars and butterflies taught me so much...I wonder if my dad knew. It taught me to respect the life of an insect, especially butterflies (imagine what I did if I saw a kid on the playground messing with a butterfly!). It taught me about the circle of life, and also about death. Many of the Monarchs didn't make it. Some never hatched from the chrysalids because of bugs or other natural forces. Some died because my sister and I intervened when we shouldn't have. Some died because we picked up milkweed someone had sprayed with chemicals (it is a weed, afterall), and some died because they got out and we stepped on them. It taught me to recognize passion in my dad, and the things he loved and enjoyed so much...I didn't get to see a lot of that because he was always so busy.

What I loved the most about the process was the fact that it brought the family together. We all loved to watch as the caterpillars grew and changed, and eventually hatched into butterflies. It was a few small moments we all shared together.

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To this day, whenever I see milkweed, I think of Monarchs. We are selling the tree farm and it pains me to think of the millions of butterflies up there that I could have collected with my children one day.(Ok, maybe not millions, but a couple hundred...). But, as luck would have it, I was riding through one of our fields yesterday and spotted an incredible amount of milkweed. I looked for caterpillars, but didn't find any...yet. I'm going to have to do some research to see when they hatch around here, or even if they do, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that I'll happen upon some. I want to show B the magic...pass on something that my dad passed on to me.

These butterflies have so much meaning to me. It is something I will always have with my dad. Which is why, even though he can't be at my wedding, butterflies will be entwined throughout the decor at the ceremony and the reception. I can't see a butterfly without thinking of what he taught me, and the love he had for them.

**I know this was a bit scattered...I just kinda wrote without organizing...**

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The process of caterpillar to butterfly, as my sister and I got to see it...