A Sign From Heaven

     Following the deaths of my brother, mother, and father-in-law, I waited patiently for some kind of sign from them that they were okay.  I longed for something that would comfort me in my time of grief and also, reassure me in this life that they were okay in the afterlife. Alas, as hard as I looked, no signs were forthcoming.
     Not long after my brother's death though, I did read about the belief that cardinals are symbolic of our loved ones in heaven.  They are God's way of letting us know that our loved ones are at peace. Oddly enough, on the second anniversary of my brother's passing, I noticed a bright red cardinal resting upon the limb of a tree in my backyard, when I opened my sliding door to let my pups outside.  My heart jumped a bit, but I didn't give it too much credence until later in the day, when, while sitting on my front porch steps, it alighted upon the branch of a small tree directly in front of me.
    "Bill?" I asked. Not surprisingly, the bird did not answer, but nor did it fly away either.  I was starting to wonder.
     For the next few days, whenever I went outside, the bird would seemingly miraculously reappear.  I almost felt like it was following me. Then, one night around 9 pm in the evening, I could hear a cardinal's distinctive call outside my mother's upstairs bedroom window.  My mother, who was living with us then, was in another room.  She was suffering from Macular Degeneration but when I called her over to the window the bird was on a branch so close by that she was able to make it out when she turned her head.
     "Mom," I said, "I think that is Bill!  That cardinal keeps following me around everywhere I go and now, here he is late in the day singing outside your window!  I think he wants you to know that he is okay!"
     I was becoming a believer by that point, so when my other brother and his wife came over to visit my mom, I suggested we go out into the backyard and sit on the deck to see if  Bill would show up.  Sure enough, he did. My brother Martin and his wife were not convinced, nor was my sister Janet when she stopped by and Bill failed to appear.  Still, they humored me and Janet even sent me a Christmas card with a cardinal on it.
     Life went on, and, after my mother's passing, Gina, Jamie and I had occasion to visit my mom and dad's grave.  My mother had always wanted to be put to rest by my father, but, when he died so many years earlier, we were given a family plot that had other members on either side of him.  Through my brother's efforts though, we were able to honor her wishes after she was cremated.  The cemetery allowed for someone's ashes to be buried in the grave of a loved one and a new headstone to rest upon the old one. Martin sent a photo of the new headstone but it wasn't until sometime later, that we saw it in person for the very first time.  Jamie wanted to commemorate our moment together and suggested that the three of us stand alongside the stone with our feet touching the edges.  Looking down as she took the photo I noticed what I thought was a white flower of some kind, engraved above the names and dates.
     "I wonder what that is?" I asked the girls. "I don't remember it in the photo Uncle Martin sent."  I then leaned down and rubbed my hand on it.
     "Mom, I think that is a bird dropping." one of the twins replied in answer to my question.  Sure enough, she was correct.
     When I returned home I emailed Martin and Janet because I knew they would find this incident amusing.  I thoroughly enjoyed my brother's succinct reply. "Must be from a cardinal" was all he wrote.
     Blessings - Amycita
   

My Mother's Long Goodbye

The ending came quietly; no words were spoken as the book closed. In truth though, her final chapter was not written in those last minutes or hours, but rather, over her last years.  A thousand tiny goodbyes preceded her death, and as her illness progressed, I mourned the loss of her with each one of them.
My hardest was losing the long conversations I had shared with her. I missed her responses peppered with the sage advice she offered from the lifetime of wisdom she had garnered along the way.  Now, in their wake, she could only listen; offering gentle but generic words of comfort by way of reply.  Gone too, was her gift for sparkling storytelling which devolved into a reel of questions that she repeated instead.  Inquiries about the weather, the health of the family and pets, and where we were going when we left, became her mainstay. Still, I clung to what remained, and cherished the sound of her voice and the beauty of her smile as I anticipated what was to come.
At last, as death neared, I watched my mother living only in the present moment, with the dawning realization that there was great beauty in that too.  It was I who was suffering; encumbered by the weight of my memories of the past, as well as my fear of the future.  For my mother, laid bare by the illness that robbed her of those things, there was none of that baggage. She was simply of the here and now.  Her last days in hospice care found her enveloped by the love of the family she had created and nurtured, and she seemed serene.  As her strength diminished she said her last goodbyes and assured us of her love; a memory I will hold dear until I take my own last breath.
Goodbye, Geri Garner and many thanks.  A part of you lives on in each of us, and, as I begin my life without you, I am reminded of that over and over again.  I see you in myself, my children and all of our family, and, as long as I do, you will never be far away.   Safe journey mamacita...rest easy in the arms of your beloved husband and son until we are together, once more.  Blessings ~ Amycita~

I AM MARRIED TO MY FAVORITE DELINQUENT

A few weeks ago, my husband and I went to the library together.  Almost immediately, I found two wonderful books that I couldn't wait to read, so since Dave was still happily perusing the magazine section, I checked out my items and went back to the car and opened one.  I was so deeply absorbed in my reading when he returned, that I never even noticed what items he brought out, but I did remember him saying that he had both books and magazines.

After finishing my books about a week later, I told Dave I was taking mine back and would return his items too, if he liked.  After considerable thought, he decided I could return his books, but said that he hadn't finished with his magazines just yet, so even though he might have an overdue fine, he wanted to wait until he was done with them.

Time went on...and on...and on.  Despite several reminders, one thing led to another and it wasn't until yesterday, when I mentioned that I was going to the library again, that he finally acquiesced and agreed I could return them.

"Where are they?" I asked, as I surveyed the room looking for the two or three magazines he had borrowed.

"I set them on the kitchen table for you." he answered, very casually.

As I turned towards the table, an audible gasp escaped my lips and my eyes widened in disbelief. I was looking at a pile of magazines; a very large pile.

Apparently, my reaction alarmed him, because, before I could utter a word, I saw Dave standing in the kitchen doorway with a very worried look on his face.

"Why did you do that??" he asked, apprehensively.

"Why, you ask???"  I said.  "Why did I do that?"

"Yes, why did you do that?"  He repeated. "Why did you make that sound?"

By that time I was too busy counting to respond, but I knew he was beginning to feel uneasy.  When I reached thirteen I paused to look in his direction, before returning to my task. It was the look of a woman who has just had the last shred of doubt that she is married to a crazy person completely erased from her mind. I finished counting.

"Dave, you have 18 magazines here. I am not kidding; you have eighteen of them."

"I know," he said as if this was not the least bit out of the ordinary. "The library had a lot of magazines that I liked."

Again my eyes widened, because, knowing how fond Dave is of money, I was surprised that he was handling the idea of parting with so much of it, this easily.

It was then that I mentioned that, while I was not familiar with the specific late fee charged for magazines, I was confident his fine was going to be a substantial one.

"I better call the library and find out," he said quickly.

After a polite inquiry, worded more as a hypothetical than a real concern, he returned to tell me the fine was 15 cents.  He looked relieved.

"I will need a calculator for this," I said, and his look of relief quickly dissipated.

"18 times 15 cents equals two dollars and seventy cents."  I said. "I can't remember how long you have had these, but it could be a month.  Let me multiply that by 30 days... that comes to 81 dollars.  No, that can't be possible. Let me do that again. No, I was right.  It really is 81 dollars.  You owe $81 in overdue fees for these magazines, Dave."

At this point, I began to laugh very hard.  In fact, I am laughing just as hard as I type these words a full day later. It is my very favorite part of being married to Dave. Whether it is my own mishap or his, the laughter has always belonged to us both.  Sometimes though, only one of us laughs first, and on this occasion that person was me.

I noticed at this time, that all the color had drained from Dave's face as he struggled to process the idea that he was going to have to spend $81 on 18 magazines that he wouldn't even own when all was said and done.

"I didn't even read all those magazines!"  He shouted, by way of defense. "I only glanced at a couple of them, so it isn't fair to charge me that much!"

"That isn't how it works, Dave.  Although your magazines might be delinquent because you are a juvenile delinquent, that does not result in a lower overdue fee. You are 56 years old.  You understand the concept of "borrowing" items from a library."

"No, I do not. I thought she meant that it would be 15 cents a day for all of them... not each of them. That would be about $5.  I am okay with five dollars.  I don't want to pay $81 dollars."

Feeling pity for him, I suggested he call back up for the actual total since I was not sure the exact amount of days the items were overdue. I waited at the door for the answer. I heard him say almost jubilantly that the amount was only (only?) $36 dollars and how happy he was to hear that news. As I was leaving the house though, I heard him as he was apologizing for the delay and explaining, truthfully, that between the clinical trial he was participating in, as well as numerous visits to his doctor's he had gone to, that he had simply let time get away from him.  As always, he sounded charming. 

Upon reaching the return desk, I set down the hefty pile of magazines I had carried in. Before I could even explain myself though, she asked me if they were David's returns. When I said that they were, I was informed that although it was not the policy of the library, she had secured permission to reduce Dave's fines in half if I returned with documentation from the hospital.  

I was genuinely touched, although not surprised; Dave has a way about him with women. I thanked her for her kindness and then politely declined the offer.  I explained that as lovable as he was, he was still a delinquent,  so he would need to pay full restitution for his crimes.

The most amusing part of this whole story though, is that upon returning to my car, I glanced at my receipt and noticed what all the magazines were...Kiplinger's Finance Magazine.  When I got home I told Dave I had a way for him to save money and I didn't even need to read one of those...just return your magazines on time in the future. :)

Blessings ~ Amycita~

AS LONG AS YOUR MOTHER EXISTS...SO DOES THE EASTER BUNNY

At preschool recently, I mentioned something about my mother, to the littles. The puzzled expressions that were reflected on their faces, were quickly explained when one child voiced the question that they all wanted to ask.

"YOU have a MOTHER, Mrs. Valente?" the little asked me without any attempt to conceal the look of utter disbelief on his face. "You mean YOU are a KID???"

"Yes!!" I said, indignantly. "I certainly DO have a mother; technically, that makes me a kid.  I am merely an old kid."

It is the same thing of course, when it comes to the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. Two years ago I attested to this fact when I wrote a post for my blog entitled "THEY WILL ALWAYS BE LITTLE GIRLS TO THE EASTER BUNNY."  In matters of mothers and magical holiday personae, you will always be a kid; provided you do not fall victim to the skeptics, and foolishly, allow them to convince you otherwise. In this case, you will be doomed to a life on the dark side. Your days of joyfully hunting for your basket on Easter morning are over, and you have nobody to blame but yourself.  This idea pains me because there are few things sadder in life, than watching everyone else eat their Easter candy, while you are left with nothing more than the hard-boiled eggs. Because of this, I will share the secret to regaining your good standing with the Easter Bunny...and please, bear in mind that these same rules are applicable with Santa Claus, as well.  Don't blow it; this might very well be your last chance.

Okay, if you had taken the time to read the post I mentioned earlier, you should already understand the two requisites involved in getting an Easter basket for the rest of your life. They consist of loudly stating a declaration of your lifelong, unwavering belief in the Easter Bunny,  AND, more importantly, MAKING THIS DECLARATION IN FRONT OF YOUR  MOTHER!!!

As hard as it is to believe, it is that simple.  The Easter Bunny is available to you for the rest of your life, as long as you NEVER EVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, say to your mother that you have any doubts that he exists. Your mother and the Easter Bunny are good friends...so, "from your mouth to your mother's ear" translates into, "from your mother's mouth to the Easter Bunny's ear," in equal parts. DO NOT voice even the slightest hint of doubt about the Easter Bunny's existence to your mother...unless you hate Easter candy. 

You will be tested though.  Life is hard and the Easter Bunny is not exception to the rule. From the time you are a small child, evil people will try to shame you into saying that you do not believe in him.  They will call you a baby and make you feel silly...but that is only because their hearts have been hardened by the fact that they no longer get Easter baskets!!  Why is that, you ask??? Well, I will tell you why....IT IS BECAUSE THEY TOLD THEIR MOTHERS THAT THEY NO LONGER BELIEVED IN THE EASTER BUNNY!!!  

About this time, many of you are feeling secure about your good-standing with the Easter Bunny.  You, foolishly, think that you are too smart to fall for their tricks, and that the memory of last year's candy is enough to ensure that you will never succumb to doubt. YOU ARE WRONG!!!!  TRUST NO ONE...INCLUDING YOUR PARENTS!!! I am sorry to tell you this, but the sad truth is that even your own parents, in fact, mainly your own parents, will attempt to lure you into an admission of doubt.  I beg you, please, DON'T DO IT!!  If you ever say to them that you do not believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, it is all over! They still love you, but they are suffering from candy deprivation, and along with all the other holiday heretics, they want you to suffer the same fate as them! They will even sink so low, as to offer their lack of baskets as proof that the Easter Bunny doesn't exist!!!  There are no lengths that these individuals are unwilling to go to, to add one more member to their basketless existence.  REMEMBER, THEY ARE ONLY BASKETLESS BECAUSE THEIR OWN PARENTS TRICKED THEM  INTO SAYING THAT THE EASTER BUNNY WASN'T REAL!!! 

Now if you are smart, like my daughter Jamie was, you will ensure a lifetime of Easter baskets by saying, in a very loud voice in front of the entire family and all of mankind, that for as long as you have breath in your old, decaying body,  you expect the Easter Bunny to hide a basket at your mother's house.  Once these words are uttered, you are safe.  NOTHING will undo the magic these words will provide to you and yours siblings, who, even though they are all over the age of twenty, are smart enough to be nodding their heads vigorously, in agreement.  

One last thing...should you have already succumbed to parent/bunny pressure, do not despair.  You simply must recant your earlier statements and, in a very contrite and sorrowful voice, say that you were misled.  State loudly and with undeniable enthusiasm, that you DO BELIEVE IN THE EASTER BUNNY!!! STATE, WITH THE ZEAL OF A TRUE BELIEVER, THAT YOU KNOW IN YOUR HEART OF HEARTS, THAT THE EASTER BUNNY FORGIVES YOU, AND THAT YOU WANT TO RECAPTURE THE MAGIC OF YOUR CHILDHOOD, WHICH YOUR MOTHER, SELFLESSLY, PROVIDED YOU WITH.  Of course, unless you say this in front of your mother, it does no good.  Obviously, not even the Easter Bunny loves you more than your mother, so once she hears those words she is going to speak to EB, on your behalf.  You are safe now; so sleep well.  You will wake in the morning to the taste of chocolate...but the Easter Bunny might make FINDING your basket a little bit trickier this year, in atonement for your lack of faith. Blessings ~ Amycita~

MY BASEBALL PLAY-BY-PLAY

I am a fan of the "Stoney and Bill, with Sara Show," on 97.1 The Ticket. Recently, I caught a broadcast that included contestants participating in a contest which required you to give your very best play-by-play call of a baseball game; an impression or a creation of your own.  Most callers did impressions, but had I more time that morning, I would have called in to share my own take on the game. This would be how I would call it, if attending a game with my husband, Dave:

"It's a beautiful day for a ballgame!  We are about to start the game with the Tigers taking the mound against...well, I am not sure who we are playing against. I WOULD know, if only my husband would have bought me a program like I asked him to, but he said the line was too long and I wouldn't appreciate it anyway. All I know is that the Tigers are playing some team with blue uniforms. Hmmmm....their uniforms are kind of nice, but I like ours better.  Oh, sorry...I digress.

Okay, so our guy is out on the mound and he makes the throw!  It's a...whoa...wait a minute!  That opposing batter is kind of cute!  I wonder who he is.  I don't know what his name is, of course, because Dave failed to buy me that program, but he is very nice looking!

Oops...I wasn't paying attention. Now I am not sure what just happened, but another guy is up to bat.  Our guy throws again and....OH MY GOSH!!!! DAVE, THERE IS THE GUY SELLING HOT DOGS!!  Will you buy me one of those? I don't know what it is about ballpark franks, but for some reason, they taste better than every other hot dog, don't you think?  What?  I AM watching the game, Dave.  I think you are very rude.

Okay, back to the game...blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.  This game sure is taking a long time.  A bunch of stuff happened, but, since I am so short, when everybody stands up I can't see what is going on. That is very annoying and it always happens to me. I can't ever reach things on the top shelf at the grocery store either.  Sometimes, I actually have to climb up on the shelves to reach stuff. They should do something about that. 

Oh yeah, I forgot about the game and I have no idea what is going on.  Wait... I will ask Dave again.

Dave, I don't appreciate you speaking to me in that tone of voice.  I AM watching the game.  Why is it taking so long though...and what inning is this? I have a lot of stuff to do when I get home and I didn't realize I would be here forever. I know those guys came out with their brooms to sweep, so we must be near the end. This is the top of the ninth?  And the bases are loaded with two men out and this guy has two strikes?  Does that mean we win if we get him out or do we have to bat again?  I hope not, because frankly, I am tired of this game now.  The only fun part was the hot dog. Get it, Dave?  I made a joke....frank-ly and hot dog...did you catch that?  That is SO funny...you just have no sense of humor. Why are you so crabby all the time?

Whoa...something just happened, but once again, I can't see what it was because all these inconsiderate people are blocking my view.  Dave...what happened? WE WON???  Wow, that was great!!!  I love baseball!!  Let's do it again, soon!

What??? I resent that Dave. I don't need you to buy me tickets anyway...I can buy my own.

This is Amy, wishing all you other loyal Tiger fans a great day!!" ;)

Blessings ~ Amycita~

CAPTURING THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

While every Christmas is a joy to me, over the years, a few of them have held moments so special, that each season I dust off my memories to replay them in my heart.  They conjure up feelings of love, warmth and family, and with them, the knowledge that on that particular Christmas, the real spirit of the season was not lost in all the wrappings and trimmings. It is what we chase after each year in our efforts to replicate the magic, but it is like trying to catch the wind; it happens when it will, graces your life for a few glorious moments, and then vanishes as quickly as it came. The only constant in each of the moments, is that family always played a part in them, and, that no matter how they unfolded, the passing of the years does nothing to diminish the happiness that revisiting them brings me.

The oldest one is of a Christmas when I was about ten years old, when my mother had given my brothers some sort of gyroscopes as gifts.  While I can't remember their exact words upon receiving them, I CAN remember the laughter that followed. While it may not have been the response she had anticipated, their reactions were priceless, and, best of all, she had also purchased a tape recorder for the family that year, and, unbeknownst to us, placed it under the couch to record the evening's gift-giving.  We replayed the moment over and over, and although sadly, the tape was lost over the years, the memory of the laughter never has been.

Another one is of Christmas shopping with my brother Martin, when I was about 20.  I can't even remember who or what we were shopping for, but I vividly recall that it involved going to MANY stores and passing the MANY Salvation Army bell-ringers that stood outside of them. Whatever gift we were in search of kept eluding us that year and I remember practically running after my brother to keep up with his quick pace. The only time I could pause to catch my breath was as my brother would stop to place a donation in each kettle and then wait for me to do the same.  By the time we passed the fourth bell-ringer though, I felt I had met my donation-giving quota, so I started to walk by without making one.  My brother, however, did not follow.  

"You didn't put any money in the pot." He said to me. 

"I know," I answered.  "I already made a donation at the last three."

His brow furrowed for a second, as he reached into his pocket and made one for me, and then, when out of earshot of the bell-ringer, he stated simply, but firmly, "Never pass a bell-ringer without making a donation."

While my brother might not even remember that moment, I have never forgotten it; nor have I ever passed a bell-ringer again without making a donation. That moment lived on as I would retell it to my daughters as they grew up, and proved particularly costly to Holly and Gina.  They both worked at Kmart while in high school and they had to pass a bell-ringer every day that they went to work. I remember they asked if being employed at a store exempted them from giving and I answered simply with a furrowed brow.

Other moments come to mind, as well.  Like the year that I went shopping with my sister Janet, for example, and helped her as she purchased over 100 packages of socks to be passed out at the dinner for the homeless that she facilitated each year.  A man inquired as to why we were pushing carts that were literally, overflowing with socks, and then, upon hearing the story, made a sizable, impromptu donation because he wanted to be a part of it. The spirit of Christmas came that year, not from what one took out of a shopping cart, but rather, by what one put into it. 

This year, I am happy to say, I had such a moment already.  Again, it came unexpectedly, but instantly, I recognized its beauty. Our daughter Gina is giving us a family portrait this year for Christmas, and this past Saturday, we gathered together to have our photos taken.  My husband had undergone surgery on his hand just two days before and I was worried a little, as to how cooperative he would be about dressing up for an outdoor photo shoot when it was 30 degrees outside.  Early in the day I spoke to him about how much effort Gina had put into the project.  She had gone to great lengths to create the perfect setting by securing permission for a special location at Stony Creek to be opened for us, as well as loading up the van with a wicker couch and chair to be used as props. 

"Gina went to a lot of trouble to do this, Dave, so make sure to be appreciative, okay?"  I said to him.

"Why do we have to have such weird children, Amy?" He answered.

"That is exactly the type of thing I am talking about, Dave." I said with a laugh. 

"I mean creative."  He said.  "Why do we have to have such "creative" children?"

I am happy to say that Dave's behavior exceeded my expectations, and despite the cold weather, an aching hand and the hectic pace needed to unload a van filled with furniture onto a tree-lined dirt road at Stony Creek, he was wonderful.  I have yet to see all the photos, from which we will choose the two favorites for our canvas, but the girls sent me one, and in it I saw that we had captured another one of those magical Christmas memories.  Each time I look at it I can hear the sound of my daughters' laughter, as well as Dave's commentary, muttered through gritted teeth he thought mimicked a smile, as he inquired as to how much longer he would need to be outside without a coat on.  Each viewing makes me smile anew. It is the Spirit of Christmas; blowing through a tree-lined, dirt road and resting upon each of our shoulders for one precious moment... caught on film.  (Special thanks to Aaron Smith for capturing it.)  Blessings, Amycita xoxoxo

Talking Turkey With The Littles

Next week, tiny Pilgrims and Native Americans, authentically attired, will gather together with the class next door, to share in the annual "Thanksgiving Feast." They will be partaking of the traditional, preschool version of the meal; turkey lunch meat and gravy, along with mashed potatoes and real butter. The butter, of course, will taste especially good.  The littles will have made it themselves, by vigorously shaking tiny jars of heavy whipping cream and salt, while complaining with equal vigor, about how tired this activity is making their arms. These are the kinds of moments that I give thanks for each Thanksgiving Day...the moments filled with learning and laughter that I am blessed to enjoy on a regular basis.

While I would love to have everyone share this experience with us, we simply don't have the patience to churn that much butter. To make it up to you though, what follows is the next best thing...a glimpse at what my day is like, by looking at the world through the eyes of a four year old.  

The following are the answers I recorded when I asked them... "How to make a Thanksgiving turkey."  Enjoy!!

 

Blessings~Amycita~

Remembering Those With An Empty Seat At The Table

This week I, along with so many of my friends, found myself bearing witness to the breathtaking, fragility of life.  We watched together with aching hearts, as a woman we dearly love, very suddenly, found herself needing to say her final goodbyes to her beautiful and beloved, 25 year old daughter.  It is difficult to even contemplate such a loss, or to make sense of any meaning in her death, but, if there is one, I imagine it has to do with appreciating all of life's ordinary moments; those which we have, so generously, been given but that we, so often, fail to take notice of.  

For many of us, our most precious gift in life has been the lives of our children. The privilege of a lifetime of ordinary moments spent with them, and the comforting knowledge that we will go to our graves knowing that many more ordinary moments await them, after we are gone.  For a painful few that is not the case, and I will make special note of that this Thanksgiving, as I give thanks for each chair filled at my dinner table, while remembering with much love, those whose table, this year, will hold an empty seat for the first time. 

Much love to you and yours, Angel...and may you find comfort in the knowledge that Christina will remain in our hearts always. 

Blessings, Amycita 

Amycita...Here withYour Weekend Forecast

Tomorrow mostly Saturday...with increasing darkness later in the day. Temperatures will remain chilly, so a jacket will serve you well in the morning...but in the evening, a bartender will serve you better.

Sunday after midnight...with hangovers expected in the morning.  The afternoon will be mostly football, with a chance of renewed drinking, possibly heavy at times, depending on the game's outcome.

For the latest on how much alcohol consumption to expect, click on your Facebook homepage.  We will be following your friends' statuses closely to look for any decreases in coherency of content, in addition to increases in spelling errors, as the day progresses. As always, you can count on us to keep you informed about the need for designated drivers as soon as any warnings or watches have been issued.

This has been Amycita...with your weekend forecast! 
**I am hoping that the Detroit Lions will redeem themselves this weekend,  resulting in the need for only mild to moderate inebriation in the Detroit area.   If you support the Green Bay Packers though, it would probably be best to watch your team's loss from the comfort of your own home. Travel advisories have been issued in light of the extremely heavy drinking expected in your area. ;)

THE IMPORTANCE OF TRAINING YOUR HUMAN

Wiley's first photo.

I was recently reminded by Olivia, that it has been exactly one year since she and Mike adopted that bundle of silver mischief named Wiley.  As with all of the best things in life, it is hard to imagine our lives without him in it...and not just because of the disposable income that was lost because of him.  (It is a pretty impressive amount though, if one calculates how much money it cost to feed a pup who originally, weighed in at 13 lbs. and who now, tips the scales at 80.)  It isn't even because of all the extra-time we would have had, had we not been carrying ladders through 3 feet of snow in the middle of winter, in order to climb over the neighbor's wrought iron fence to free him after he catapulted over a mountain of snow, and got trapped beside her in-ground pool.  No, it is because of all the joy and laughter that he has brought into our lives, as well as his ability to give unconditional love and comfort; the gift that God so cleverly endowed all dogs with, in order to make up for all the trouble that they get into. 

I can still remember, quite vividly, the first time that I met Wiley, when Olivia and I made the trek to St. John, Michigan, in order to bring him home.  Mike and Olivia had planned on picking him up together, but since Mike had to work unexpectedly, I happily agreed to go in his stead.  Although they had already chosen Wiley beforehand, Wiley was unaware of this, and did his best to enlighten us as to the wisdom of selecting him.  To facilitate this, when I sat down on a step to pet him, he grabbed my purse and made off with it in the direction of our car.  He seemed pleased with himself, that he had chosen humans he could so easily educate, and sat patiently, with tail all a’ waggle, as we opened the back of van to place him in the kennel we had brought along for the ride home.  There was a moment of quiet as Olivia and I made our way to the front of the van and got in, but that abruptly came to an end as I began backing out of the driveway.  What we heard next was a veritable cacophony of sounds, previously unknown to all of mankind, that Wiley emitted in protest at having to sit in a kennel in the back, rather than on Olivia's lap as he had anticipated.  I had only made it to the end of the driveway when I was ready to pull over and bring him up front, but Mike had stressed to Olivia, the importance of never allowing a puppy's misbehavior to dictate whether he stayed in a kennel or not.  For this reason, I drove at least five or six feet down the road before I insisted that Olivia call Mike to tell him that Wiley was an unusually savvy dictator who would now be riding up front with us. 

Mike responded with a rousing tutorial on the virtues of consistency in training, designed to bolster our flagging resolve to keep Wiley in his kennel.  I am sure it would have been successful too, had it not been all of  the wailing, crying, howling, whimpering and  barking, that was emanating from the back of the van, which prevented us from actually hearing any of it.  

Wiley's most recent photo.

It took approximately five minutes before Wiley was able to train us to let him sit in the front of the car on Olivia's lap, which, I think, demonstrated a remarkable amount of discipline and resolve on both Wiley's part and ours.  Obviously, we were meant to be together.  ~Blessings, Amycita~

Santa...Just A Couple More Things Before I Forget!

Dear Santa,

I hope you don't think me rude because I am writing to you again so soon, but I thought of a couple of other things that I forgot to ask you for this past Christmas.  I would wait until next December to send you these revisions, but the odds are slim to nil that I would remember any of them 12 months from now. To be honest, there is a good chance I won't even remember them by tomorrow, so before I forget, here they are:

1. Could you please give me something to help me stop forgetting things?

2. I would also appreciate if you would provide Dave with the same gift, as well. In fact, feel free to give Dave his gift first! The reason I am being so magnanimous is because he is so much more annoying about forgetting things than I am.  This is due to the fact that when he forgets where he put something, he always assumes that I am the one who misplaced it.  I can't imagine why he thinks this because it seems obvious, that with the amount of hours in a day I devote to losing my own stuff, I certainly have no extra time to spare losing his.

3. Additionally, I would like if you could give me one of the "Lifestyle Lifts" that they advertise on TV.  It would make me really happy if, when I get up in the morning and look in the mirror, my appearance looked more like what I THINK I should look like, instead of the much older looking woman who keeps appearing in my reflection.  I wanted to ask you for this last year, but I couldn't think of a reason for requesting this that would not make me appear to be selfish or vain.  After having given it a great deal of thought though, I was able to manufacture one!  I wouldn't be requesting this for myself, you see, but rather, for all the people who have to look at me!!!  In fact, I think it quite selfless of me to make one of my wishes for the betterment of others, instead of myself...don't you?

4. This will be the last one for now, Santa...could you please make my daughters stop sharing stories with me that involve "old people," in the telling?  The reason I ask for this is because whenever I inquire as to the age of these elderly individuals, they are usually my age or younger.  I do not find my daughters' apologies, which they make with a great deal of amusement, all that sincere, so if you cannot help me in this regard, then please, just feel free to give each of them some wrinkles or age spots, to even things up.

Okay, I hope you, the Mrs. and the reindeer enjoy some much deserved rest and relaxation in the coming months.  

Love,

Amycita xoxox  

A CHRISTMAS LIST FOR SANTA...FROM A WOMAN WHO HAS BEEN 21 YEARS OLD MORE THAN ONCE...AND THEN SOME.

Having recently read, with great amusement, the TRUE account of what a ten month old baby wants from Santa, I got the idea to write a realistic list of the things that I would REALLY like to ask Santa for, this year. Here goes:

Dearest of Santas,
Hope you have had a great year and that the Mrs. and the reindeer are all doing well!  I am sending you my Christmas Wish List...and this one is a little more authentic than the ones that I usually send you.  That is not to say that I do not wish for world peace, or that a meteor avoids hitting my house; the following wishes are just a little bit more personal.

 

An Authentic Christmas Wish List from a Woman of 54

1.  Santa could you please make them stop making all the fonts in the newspapers and magazines so incredibly small?  I am having a very hard time reading them.
2. Also, along those same lines, can you please ask people to stop speaking in such quiet voices? The only one I can ever hear is Dave...and that is only after I have asked him to repeat himself for the fifth time.  He ALWAYS speaks in a loud enough voice then.  Also, can you please make Dave stop speaking to me in that loud voice...it almost sounds as if he is irritated with me.  
3. Can you please give me a little more time in a day?  I used to be able to keep up with things but, as of late, I am experiencing quite a bit of trouble accomplishing all the things that I am supposed to do.  Frankly, my house is a REALLY big mess right now and writing this letter to you isn't helping things.
4. Can you please make the economy pick up so that I don't have to worry so much about my children?  I remember when Dave and I first started out and both of our jobs provided medical and dental benefits; nowadays that is more uncommon.  I want all my daughters to have those things so that I don't have to lose anymore sleep over it.
5. Speaking of sleep, can you do anything about helping me with that?  I often go to bed totally exhausted, but then, find I cannot sleep at all!  This forces me to watch things like the two hour episode of "Mob City" that I watched last night.  As a result of this, I slept right through my alarm clock going off this morning, and was almost late for work!  Thankfully, my husband Dave woke me up, but even so, I was forced to go into work with NO MASCARA ON!!!!  No mascara is not a good look for me, Santa.
6. Can you please, and this is a really important one, keep all my family members in good health?  We have been blessed for so long that I have come to expect that.  When they are not well I am consumed with worry about them.  I would prefer if you would do something so that they can all live forever. 
7. Okay, now as far as things breaking all the time, is there anything that you can do about that?  I understand that things need to be repaired from time to time, but this "all things must break down at the very same time" thing is kind of overwhelming.  Please do something that ensures no other items will break or need repairs, until the items that are already broken have been fixed.  Also, please make this retroactive...otherwise we are never going to catch up.
8. Also, no more floods in my basement please.  No further explanation is needed.
9. Can you please keep my pups and cats in good health?  Those animals give me such joy and I appreciate them more than you can know.  I want them to be around with me forever!
10. Finally, can you keep all my family, relatives, friends and adopted facebook friends safe and happy this coming year?  These people make my life happier because they are a part of it.  They are the salt and pepper of the seasonings of life...without them my world would be very bland!    
11. Okay Santa, I think that is enough for now... although it would also be great if you could help me to understand how to work things on my computer better.  I put this number thing on for my list and now I cannot figure out how to make it stop...that is why this is listed as #11, when it should have just been a final paragraph.  Alright, I love you Santa.  I will leave some cookies and milk for you on my kitchen table and as always, I will throw some
    Cheerios on the roof for your reindeer.  
12. Dang it, Santa...I just wanted to sign off by saying Love, Amycita...but now I have number 12 in front of it...please make it stop!  xoxoxoxoxooxo   
13. PS...Steve Sanderson just reminded me that I should have asked that the Detroit Lions win the Super Bowl while I am still living....I know this one is a stretch, but it sure would be great!   
14. Blessings...Amycita      
15. Santa, please put "how to turn off this numbering feature" at the top of this list.               

I SHOULD HAVE BUILT AN ARK

I have not been blogging lately, as life has provided me with many activities to keep me extra busy...such as flooding my basement, while I was visiting my daughter up in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan.  There is nothing that takes the vacation right out of you as much as coming home from a relaxing trip, then running downstairs to get something and discovering a pesky flood.  It was caused by a compression coupling coming apart, which joined some plastic tubing behind our ceiling tiles, and although it was just a steady drip, it must have been dripping for many days because the carpeting was completely saturated.  In fact, if it had been cold enough for the water on the carpeting to freeze, I suspect I could have had a wonderful ice-skating rink right there in my basement. After I had completed the process of throwing myself on my family room couch, while holding my head and repeatedly saying "woe is me...woe is me" the requisite amount of times, the arduous task of cleaning up the flood began.
This brings me to the sorting out of the seven million boxes of accumulated junk that we had stored in our basement.  Now, my husband had an "attitude of gratitude" regarding this development.
"Amy, you should think of this as a blessing." Dave sagely advised me. "This gives us an opportunity to rid ourselves of all the unnecessary items that we have had downstairs and never got around to sorting through."
The problem with Dave's theory though, was that I felt that he wasn't sharing that blessing in equal proportions to me... although he would dispute this statement. (You will just have to trust me on this one. Despite his denials, Dave was practically an atheist when it came to this particular blessing. Besides, I am the author of this blog, so my version wins.) I moaned and grumbled as I made my way through box after box; separating the items that could be saved from those that could not, and the items that we no longer needed but that were still in good condition, that I could donate to the Salvation Army.  I still have many more boxes to go through, but yesterday I decided to take the first load of salvageable, but useful items, to the donation center.  Unfortunately, due to a mental lapse undoubtedly caused by overwork, I brought Dave along with me. The problems began to surface, even before we arrived at the site.
"Hey, why are you donating all these duffel bags?"  Dave questioned me in an alarmed tone of voice.
"It is because you have somehow managed to acquire 10,000 duffel bags, Dave. I figured that I could give away five thousand of them, while still leaving you with the other five thousand that you can continue to never use."
"What are you, nuts?" Dave replied. "I need these duffel bags.  These are in great shape."
"Yes, I know, Dave.  That is why I am donating them.  I am sure there must be other men who need to keep thousands of unused duffel bags in their basement and I think it would be generous of us, if we gave them a turn."
Dave then proceeded to remove several of the duffel bags from the "donate to the Salvation Army" pile and place them in the newly created "keep these things I will continue to never use, but would like Amy to sort through again following the next flood" pile.  Things got even better when we actually arrived at the site.  While I was removing the items I wished to donate and had placed in the body of the van, Dave, I discovered, was in the back of the van finding other items he would never use and returning them to our vehicle. I would also like to note that he did so with a speed never evidenced once, during the "sorting through the seven million boxes" stage of this process.
All is well though, because I have learned from my mistakes.  I have always believed in the adage that "the more you possess the more it possesses you" and I will be donating plenty of other items to the Salvation Army...including the ones Dave put back in the car.  I can do that because I have learned from my second mistake, as well...to never take Dave along with me, when I am making my donations.
Hope all you are enjoying a dry summer...at least INSIDE the home in which you dwell. Blessings! ~~Amycita~~

THE HEALING/HEELING POWER OF PUPPIES

That inexhaustible, leaping, kissing, biting, havoc-wreaking but always lovable, bundle of fur that is Wiley, came bounding down from his home in the Upper Peninsula this past week, to visit me.  Merely 3 months old, and only in my life for just a fraction of that time, he has managed to secure a place in a heart that I was quite confident had already reached its full-capacity.   My heart has been quite happily occupied for the last 11 years by that incorrigible Copper Kitty, whom we rescued while vacationing in Port Sanilac, and for the last 8 years by the two tiny bundles of black fur, Teddy and Scarlett that God blessed us with after our beloved Cairn Terrier Sophie, passed away.  Then, as if it wasn't crowded enough already in there, the neighbor's two cats who absolutely refuse to accept that they do not reside at my house, have also managed to garner more than their fair share of  my heart's affection... not to mention the lion's share of Copper's cat food, as well.  I simply had no intention of falling in love with any other animal and was determined to only "like" Wiley, Olivia and Mike's new Silver Lab puppy...and even "liking" was to be kept strictly from a distance. Wiley however, with blatant disregard for the "no vacancy" sign I had posted, would tolerate nothing less than first class accommodations in the "make room in your heart" department and with complete and unabashed confidence, singlehandedly (or pawedly, as the case may be) found himself a place within it, despite my strongest efforts. He utilized some interesting tactics, I have to admit.  While Scarlett and Teddy won me over with their gentle manners and playful antics, Wiley went with the "tail wagging with such unbridled joy that it knocks every single item off your coffee table" style approach, accompanied by mischief making of such epic proportions, that simply the act of behaving himself weakens any resolve not to love him by virtue of sheer gratitude alone. Most effective of all his tactics however, is Wiley's strategy of rising very early in the morning and waking his first victim, so that, while they are half-asleep and still not able to think coherently, they foolishly leave their bare feet exposed allowing Wiley to seize the chance to sink his incredibly, sharp puppy teeth into the very tender area of their Achilles heel.  This is followed immediately, by said humans attempting to pry Wiley's teeth from off of their tender flesh, while simultaneously screaming, "No bite! No bite!" to no avail; thus affording Wiley the opportunity to latch onto ones fingers, which unbelievably, one has, in desperation, placed inside his mouth! The beauty of this tactic is that when Wiley chooses a different victim the next morning, the first recipient of Wiley's morning greeting is so grateful to him for doing so, that an unbreakable bond is immediately forged.

This week when Wiley bounded into my house, shiny sharp teeth exposed and waiting to bite, it was just what the doctor ordered. Puppies are demanding little creatures and there is no time for grieving, unless you have a very strong Achilles heel.  Then of course, there is that one other "extra" benefit he provides; it being that every now and then, when Wiley is a little sleepy himself, he is amenable to a bit of affection....and as everyone knows, very few things in life help heal a heart faster than the love of two tiny bundles of black fur, an incorrigible cat, the two cats who live across the street from you but who refuse to accept that arrangement, along with the affection of a puppy like Wiley.  Blessings ~ Amycita ~     

For My Brother

Grief, as necessary to life as joy, has settled upon me now.  In the days leading up to my brother's passing this past Monday, the first threads of it began to weave its way around my heart, but it wasn't until the day following his death that it actually began to blanket me.  It is as familiar to me as an old friend, for I have known this feeling many times before.  It stands waiting, like an unexpected guest knocking upon the door of my heart, until with resignation I open myself up to let grief in.
I take note of the baggage it carries with it, so indicative of the length of time it will be visiting me.  We will be unpacking the contents of that baggage together, one item at a time, as I come to terms with an existence that my brother will no longer be a part of.  A bit of anxiety causes my heart to race for I know this period will be painful, yet necessary.  Grief's first days with me will be the hardest, of course, but the jagged edges of sorrow will eventually begin to soften with the passage of time.  Finally, one day there will be a morning upon which I will wake up thinking about some ordinary aspect of life, instead of about the brother I so loved and miss. Then, I will watch as grief picks up its empty suitcase and quietly begins to walk away, almost unnoticed, as it closes the door of my heart behind it until the next time we meet again.
I love you Bill and you will remain in my heart until we are together, once more. Until that time though, safe journey; don't tarry if you should hear us crying.  It is just the sounds of those who loved you…unpacking their bags of grief.  ~ Amycita~

FLAT STANLEY VISITS AUNT AMY, OR WOULD YOU ENTRUST YOUR CHILD'S CLASS PROJECT TO THIS WOMAN?

Dear Anna and Classmates,
Thank you so much for choosing us to be one of the host families for your Flat Stanley Project.  I was so happy and surprised when he arrived in the mail!  Since I like to read so much, I was already familiar with Flat Stanley's books. I always liked his stories, because even though he was flattened like a pancake when a bulletin board fell on him one night, he still made the best of things and managed to lead a very exciting life!  After all, who else do you know who gets to go on a vacation to California, by being mailed there in an envelope?  He was able to go on even more adventures when you mailed him to my house and I think he really enjoyed them, as well!  (Well, maybe with the exception of our visit to see the goats, at Frontier Town!)  Thank you again, for letting us be part of the fun!
Lots of Love,
Anna's Aunt Amy
XOXOXOXO

     

                                              FLAT  STANLEY'S ADVENTURES WITH MY FAMILY

                                                        Dedicated to Anna and all her classmates

                                                With special love and thanks to my daughter, Jamie  

     

I was so surprised when Flat Stanley first arrived at our house in Washington Township.  We live right on the borderline between Washington Township and Romeo, Michigan. I usually just say I live in Romeo, instead of Washington Township, because more people know where Romeo is. People often visit Romeo because it is famous for all the apple orchards we have, and also for the "Peach Festival" that the village hosts, during the fall.  Here is a picture of Flat Stanley popping out of my mailbox!

SURPRISE!

I was very excited to take Flat Stanley around town to see some sights. Flat Stanley was hoping to drive, but I couldn't let him because his feet didn't reach the gas pedal.  Instead, I had him sit on the passenger seat and, of course, I had him put on his seat belt so that he would be safe!

TOO SHORT TO DRIVE!

ALWAYS WEAR A SEAT BELT!

THE CIVIL WAR MONUMENT

The first place I took him to visit was the historic cemetery in Romeo.  It has a large monument in it, which lists the soldiers from the area who died during the civil war. I showed him all the names engraved on the sides of the monument, and told him that some parents lost more than one son during that war. Thinking how hard that must have been for those families might have made him feel a little sad, because he was very quiet after I had finished.  I can't be sure though, because, between you and me, Flat Stanley really isn't much of a talker.

To cheer him up a bit, I let him pretend he was being shot out of a civil war cannon.  It is a good thing that it was still cold outside though, because in the summer wasps like to live inside it, and he could have gotten stung by one!

FLAT STANLEY PRETENDING TO BE SHOT OUT OF A CANNON!

Next, I took Flat Stanley to Frontier Town.  Frontier Town is a place with some interesting stores, including an old-fashioned general store where you can buy penny candy.  It also has goats in the back of the property, and you can buy goat food, to feed them with.  I guess I should have purchased some of that food, because after I taped Flat Stanley to the post outside the pen and stepped back to take a picture of him, one of those rascally goats stuck his head through the fence and started eating him!!! (Goats really like to eat paper, I discovered!)  I yelled very loud at him to put Flat Stanley down, but goats are NOT very good listeners.  I was extremely sad even though I knew he was only made of paper. I think it was because when you read a good book the characters almost seem to come alive...and that was how Flat Stanley was beginning to feel to me!

Luckily, since Flat Stanley WAS a character out of a book and WAS NOT a real, live, little boy, I was able to make another one!

FLAT STANLEY AND THAT RASCALLY GOAT!

As soon as I was finished, I took him to the library in town.  I knew he would want to know all about his family, so guess which book I took out for him to read?

THE "NEW" FLAT STANLEY

The next day Flat Stanley and I met my daughter Jamie, at National Coney Island.  She was traveling to California the following day and she wanted to take him with her...this time IN AN AIRPLANE! I think he really liked having the window seat.

HE ORDERED A FLAT-BREAD SANDWICH!

BETTER THAN AN ENVELOPE!

While he was in California he attended a conference with some students Jamie was escorting, who were members of a group called Phi Theta Kappa. They are students who get really good grades at college, so Stan liked to hang around with them. Stan knows how important it is to do well at school!

STAN AND JAMIE

FLAT STANLEY WITH HIS SMART FRIENDS!

After the conference was finished, Stan took in some of the sights with Jamie.  He got to see the Golden Gate Bridge and a few other places, when Jamie met up with her cousin Matt, who lives in California.

THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE

MATT, JAMIE AND STAN

This picture though, is my favorite one of all.  I think it looks like Flat Stanley is a GIANT and he is stepping on the tiny humans who are walking on the beach!  It made me laugh very hard when I saw it!

LOOK OUT BELOW!!!

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Flat Stanley had another nice flight on his way back and even had a layover in Denver, Colorado!

When Flat Stanley came back home he really wanted to attend Macomb Community College, like his friends from the conference did. Jamie explained that he wasn't old enough yet, but she let him pretend to get his ID picture taken, so that he wouldn't feel too disappointed.  

FLAT STANLEY AT COLLEGE!

After that, Jamie returned Flat Stanley to me for one last adventure.  I work at a preschool and we were having an art show, so I let Flat Stanley dress up like an artist, when he visited.  He posed with some artwork, which two of my daughters drew when they were back in high school.  After that he posed with one of the projects that our preschoolers made.  He looks great, don't you think?  I think he might become a famous artist when he grows up!

ART BY GINA AND JAMIE!

FLAT STANLEY "THE ARTIST"

Well, I had a few more pictures of Flat Stanley, but unfortunately, I am having trouble downloading them.  In any case, I think you can tell that we had a great time together, and I certainly am glad that he came to our house to visit!  Thank you again, boys and girls...and I love you, Anna! 

I received this thank you letter in the mail today...I love it!