throwback thursday

dear 20 year old me {healing}

Dear 20 year old me,

When you were standing in the back of the church, dressed in white, holding your Daddy's arm and looking into a church filled with people...  that feeling in your gut wasn't butterflies, and the shaking and tears as you walked down the aisle spoke silently to your heart.  You knew it then, you knew it the moment you stepped foot into the limo that took you away to a life you had just childishly chosen.  Life would change from the dreams you had for yourself at 17.  When the fork in the road gave you a choice, yours was a difficult one.  You were young, and foolishly in love, or so you thought. 

The doubt in yourself never waned.  The feelings grew stronger, and the time to live with purpose, love & joy again tugged longingly at your heart.

You were stronger than you believed you could be.  Somehow, one day at a time, that glimmer of who you used to be...  who you COULD be again...  would come flooding back in waves that enveloped you so quickly, you could hardly catch your breath.  A new path was suddenly before you, and only five short years of heading in the wrong direction were enough to catapult you into your next journey.  It would not be an ordinary moment of awakening, but one to be relished with every fiber of your being.  You were free to live, once again, as if taking a breath for the very first time.

Now, twenty-five years later, some of the scars have healed, as the memories fade from that time you wish to erase from your life.  But do not forget, as much as you try, that good has come from that dark and stormy time in your life.  Strength once lost has been found again, and living for the moment is a choice you now make daily. 

You are transformed, happier, and wiser with each year that passes.  Embrace it.

love,
45 year old me

My First Solo

Fourth grade, December 1976... I remember it like it was yesterday. "You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen... Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen... but do you recall.... the most famous reindeer of all..."

My mother dropped off a bunch of pictures & memorabilia in the last month and I've finally found a few minutes to dig through the memories. I found this program in one pile and this photo in another. Hopefully I'll be able to get some of these wonderful pieces of my past put into a scrapbook before I lose them! I've been telling stories to the boys of my childhood and now have some photos to go along with it. The walk down memory lane this morning was a fun one!

{help} she cried from under the pile

Feeling a bit overwhelmed with clutter lately.  I detest clutter, but you'd never know it by looking through my house some days.  Can you relate?  Aren't we all pack-rats, to a certain degree?  Maybe it's your basement that's filled with stuff, or your garage that overflows each summer as items fall from the rafters.  Godforbid we admit that our MINDS are cluttered too?!  How do we go about letting go of things...  and generally they're just that...   things.

The item does not replace the person who died.  The faded pink carnation tucked between the pages of the funeral announcement.  The brown, torn-edged old photograph, unless marked, scanned and put into a book, will one day fall away and not make sense to the fourth generation child who has inherited it.  What about the relics your cherish because they were handed down to you and the guilt is just too much.  However could you part with it?!  Surely Uncle Al would roll over in his grave if he knew you were going to donate the rock tumbler he polished agates with back in the day!?!

But folks, say it with me...  its just stuff!  Collecting dust on top of stuff.  The relics have been losing their value year after year.  I know this to be true because I have been cleaning out my basement recently and looked up the value of some of the stuff I've accumulated.  It's simply not worth the effort to list and resell it.  Unless you make a living that sort of thing, maybe.  Laughing at yourself when you see finally something on Antique Road Show that also sits in your basement just isn't worth dedicating space to it year after year.

The boys have seen the show about hoarding and asked me once, "Mom, are we hoarders?"  Um, no honey.  Not.yet.  Bwhahahaha.  Okay, never.  I don't buy things to bring them home and then never use them again.  But I can see where {prior to my recent accomplishments in the unfinished basement} they might have thought we were.

Oh, I know where I got my trait from...   believe me...  and while he will remain nameless, he will be celebrated this Sunday {in case you want to guess}.  Would you believe that while sitting on my patio last night reading a magazine that often clutters my mailbox (and honestly, I have no idea how I got on the mailing list) that I discovered a stool in a catalog that just might be in aforementioned man's house?  No joke.  And now it's called Vintage and they're selling it for over $129, depending on the style!  Downright crazy.  Heck, if I am looking to purchase something vintage, it might just be a phone call and 10 minute ride away...  but, I digress.

In the years we have lived @3513 we have not touched 90% of the boxes in our basement.  Most of which hold treasures untold, some with monetary value, most...  not so much.  Heck, I've even got a box labeled "deep storage" filled with remnants of my first marriage.  Why??  I have absolutely NO idea!!  Might have to toss it without even opening it up (it's pretty heavily taped shut).  So it has been my self-imposed quest to clean it up and move it out this summer!  I've moved them around from one corner to another until I get the place where the stuff isn't mine to throw away...  and I get discouraged and stop.  However, it's time...  time to get rid of it all (or rent a storage locker for what is left and make him pay for the monthly fee to keep his clutter).  Our city's free haul-away day is on my birthday this year and I couldn't think of a more freeing gift to myself to make it happen!!

At the risk of exposing myself to ridicule and laughter, I'm going to link up the video I took of my basement this past weekend.  I am feeling good about the progress I've made and hopefully will inspire someone else to crawl out from underneath the piles too!

Carpe Diem!

PS:  Please don't buy me anything for my bday this year!
(unless it can be consumed)

what's on your mind?

One of my favorite subjects in school was English, the other, Psychology.  Interestingly enough, my teachers in these two classes were polar opposites in every way.  I won't say that I despised my English teacher, because I really learned a lot from him ~ all three years I had him in high school. He challenged me. However, I adored my psychology teacher.  What they had in common?  A passion for the subject they each taught.  As I look back now on those impressionable young girl years, I can see how my favorite two subjects went hand-in-hand in helping to create who I am today.

Lessons learned from English teacher:  

1. Do not tempt your English teacher (who was a bulldog and the boys' high school basketball coach) if you were not prepared to answer in debate.  He knew his stuff.  His reputation both on and off court was something to be feared.  Clearly he had a passion for both.
   
   
2. Push yourself.  You know more than you think you know.  Let the learning sink in and then find ways to apply it.  I never understood the "reading aloud" thing in school, but for no other reason than to keep us awake with fear we might be called next.  However, it gave me courage to speak up, even if only in prose and through the written word of some fabulous historical writers.  One of my favorite books was Don Quixote; and the character he adored, Dulcinea, resonated with me in a mysteriously unclear way that year.  [So much so that the name I had engraved on my senior yearbook was Dulcinea, not my own.  Perhaps more on that in a future post.]
   
   
3. While pushing yourself, keep lesson #1 in mind.  Do not leave class early, even two minutes, to get your band instrument if you failed to bring the proper pass.  This is the one and only time I was suspended.  Yes, really.  It turned out okay in the end ~ the next day when I was called to the Principal's office and told the news, I called my Mom and we had lunch and went shopping for the day.  I believe this was my senior year in high school.  I had never, I mean NEVER, gotten in trouble.  At the time it was something to laugh about, heck, it still is...  and I now have a story to tell my children about the day I was suspended from class. 

Lessons learned from Psychology teacher:

1. It's okay to dream.  Embrace your inner-Freud and follow the desires of your unconscious mind.  There are reasons behind your psychosis. In your quest to find out why you exist and who you will become in this world, it will take some deep digging into self-understanding, social upbringing and uncontrolled circumstances be damned.  And the hard truth to swallow is, the why & who will never fully be defined.  Keep learning, searching & dreaming.
   
   
2. Even if you feel that no one else believes in you, your ability to define yourself in these formative years will be what carries you through the turbulence of young adolescence.  Your teacher believes in you.  He knows that your mind is thirsty for knowledge and it his daily quest to see you drink from that cup of education.  Who better to have on your side than a psychology teacher?
   
   
3. Writing and lessons learned in English come in handy when having to create papers of self-analysis.  You may not always agree with the forefathers of the mind, but there is certainly enough fodder for consideration that defining your dreams of who you will become as a young adult becomes a daily game of reinvention.

So my perfect blend of classes in high school consisted of taking the best of both teachers and letting their words of wisdom resonate into my being.  My motto became, and has been since, Carpe Diem. Sure there were other classes and teachers who made a lasting impression on me, but as I reflect on my life's passions lately, I clearly see how these two were in the forefront.  I am a social being who loves to explore the mind and write about it.  This much is true.  I don't have all the answers, my use of English grammar is lacking most days, and I have evolved enough over the years to know that perfection does not exist.  And as I thirst for knowledge...  my glass will always be half full, with an eagerness to make it overflow someday.

Today and every day, I am thankful for teachers.
May we never stop learning!

Uncle Jim's Cabin

My Uncle's Cabin is on the market.  Sure, I know I will always have the memories and it's not mine to hang onto, but it's a sad, sad thing to see it go.  I had hopes of bringing my boys down there this summer or next, now that they can finally swim without assistance, and share in the fun times I had as a kid ~ creating memories for them in the process.

This is the view from the boathouse. The place we learned to jump as kids, learning to do it without fear or else be pushed into Lake Burton 20 feet below.

Silly Uncle Jim.  He would take us on boat rides.  Teach us how to water ski in this lake, oh so patient was he.  We learned to make home-made ice cream here and played with his 8-track cassette machine (ancient as it seemed).

We would take long walks through the winding, unpaved, Georgia-red-mountain roads.  A short drive into the little nearby town and it felt as if we had walked into a German time-warp!  [Edited to add name and link of little German town - Helen, GA.  Thanks, Mom] There were trolls and candy, burgers & lots of fun to be had for young and old alike in that town.  Not far away is a drive to the river rapids and Blue Mountains as far as the eye can see.

 See the troll atop the barrel under Norwegian flag?

Oh, the memories.

When I was pregnant with Alek in 1992, I took a drive down to the cabin and stayed a week with my Mom.  It was a very relaxing time.  So serene.  Sunshine and solitude.  That was my last trip to Georgia.  Alek got to return again as a teenager on a trip with Grandma and Grandpa.

If only it were closer and we could pool resources to purchase this as a family cabin.

Ah, sweet little ol' cabin in the woods, I will miss you.

I am thankful that I got to experience all your charms & wonderment over the years!

Yes, I am a product of Sesame Street!

Love what Google is doing to celebrate Sesame Street this week!

It's hard to believe that they're 40 years old...  because that would mean I have to admit MY age.  And just last week, I couldn't (for the life of me) remember how old I was.  My favorite character was always Cookie Monster for his lack of manners and love of chocolate chip cookies!

Guess I'll always be a kid at heart!

Who is YOUR favorite character?

rem*i*nisce
–verb (used without object), -nisced, -nisc*ing. to recall past experiences, events, etc.; indulge in reminiscence.

It seems as though in almost the blink of an eye, a year has gone by. There are so many things that I could reminisce about, the list would be endless.

I am halfway to my BA from Bethel and look forward to finally graduating in October of 2009!

I am most thankful for our health and the fact that we continue to have jobs in this tough economy.

My children have grown in many ways and as they continue to struggle to understand the importance of homework and a good education, I wish for them patience and organization lessons in 2009.

I pray for many blessings & beginnings for friends & family in the new year... jobs for those who have lost them, love for those who are still searching for the perfect soulmate, courage to my friends who must make tough decisions for themselves and their children, and most of all God's blessings.

Happy New Year! <---click here

It is done... 20 minutes in line, important decisions to make, and 60 unchallenged judicial judge circles later - I've officially cast my ballot in the 2008 Election! I was voter/ballot 37 at my polling place.

...now we wait...

Reminiscing:
In 2000, Oliver was born on November 1st. On November 4th, the nation voted. On that eve, we had the "hanging chad" disaster. In Oliver's baby book where it says "President" I wrote: Undecided, Hanging Chad

Thesaurus Legend: Noun 1. hanging chad - a chad that is incompletely removed and hanging by one corner
chad - a small piece of paper that is supposed to be removed when a hole is punched in a card or paper tape

Based on WordNet 3.0, Farlex clipart collection. © 2003-2008 Princeton University, Farlex Inc.

Let's hope we have a better system in place!

...and wait...

20 years ago in March

I cannot believe it's been 20 years since I was in Norway! Where does the time go? I was uploading these photos to share with a friend whose husband is going on a winter tour... what a ski down memory mountain! For those who did not know me back then, a little background. I was in the Minnesota Army National Guard and was selected to spend three weeks with the Norwegian Homegaard. Two of those weeks were spent in winter training and the last was a week of touring the countryside, mainly Oslo. Also in the last week we were able to visit many museums, City Hall, and spend a weekend with a host family. It was a fabulous trip all the way around!




PS: I ended my tour as an E6/SSG (Staff Sergeant) with the MNARNG after 7 years. Yeah me!

William Earl Henry Gardner

It was 5 years ago today that my grandpa passed away. I miss him. He was the only grandpa I ever knew. My father's dad passed away when my dad was young, so I never met him.


I have fond memories of spending time with my grandpa... some of my favorite include:

• Eating waffles and ice cream with chocolate sauce (although not at the same time!)
• Spending the night and sleeping down the hall from my grandparents
• "Don't let the bed bugs bite!"
• Charlie Weaver - who only came out at Christmas
• Tickling grandpa's hair from behind his lazy boy in the porch, while he listened to the TWINS on the radio
• "Wind sauce and air pudding"
• Celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary at Murray's

Grandpa was a "beat cop" in Minneapolis and had many stories of the paddy wagon and his days on the force.

I was with him and my mom as he took his last breath, and while he didn't always attend Redeemer Lutheran Church with grandma, I do believe they are together in heaven.

...I love you, Grandpa!

Everyone loves a Parade

Don't they? I love a parade! I'm a "parade geek" of sorts. Of course the kids love to go to a parade because they throw boat-loads of candy. If we only make it to one parade a year, it's always the Osseo Lion's Roar in September. Having been in marching band since 9th grade and attaining the position of Drum Majorette my senior year, I lived and breathed parades back in the day!

I learned a lot from my band directors... John (bless his soul) and Paul. I am thankful for all that they taught me, not only about music, but about life!

Henry has been marching up and down the street lately twirling a baton, of sorts. When we went to the parade on Saturday I made sure to point out all of the drum majors and how he could be involved in a parade himself someday when he grows up! I sure hope to get both of the younger boys interested in playing an instrument and being in the band. If we can keep out the negative peer influence, it will be wonderful to live it all again through them.

A lot of the photos in the slideshow are old cars... another passion of mine which Henry seemed to pick up. Enjoy!