JON COLIN

Today is my son's birthday. He is twenty six. It is so very  hard to believe. I tried to think of something original to say about the passage of those twenty six years but all that comes to mind are the cliches about how quickly time flies and anyone who has a child knows that all too well. He and his brother, Kane, were my life and when the house was suddenly empty, I felt I was too but anyone who has experienced an empty nest knows that feeling as well. It is the human experience that we all share. Holding on and letting go. I am happy to say that I let go of two incredible people. Both wonderful men and fathers but of course it is my nature to think of all of things I should have done, said, been. I remember always thinking how lucky I was that I was not only given the gift of children but that over and above that I was allowed every day to spend part of it with two of the brightest, funniest, most caring people I had ever known....what are those odds? 
So, today, on your birthday, I would like to tell you that time does fly. That Rylan and Emmalynn will grow and leave before you have a chance to say enough I Love Yous. Before you think of saying everything that you think needs to be said. Life is fast and full and it just isn't possible to make every day special, to tell them how much they mean and how incredible they are...but do yourself a favor...try.

Love, mom

GRAY-ING PAINS

I noticed my first gray hair when I was 22. I  had finished my lunch break and was blotting fresh lipstick when I saw it shining there in my Clinique powder compact mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked again, certain it was an errant thread or a misplaced streak of white out. But no...it remained, stubborn in it's need to be a part of the other  carefully coifed strands.
They began to multiply quite steadily thereafter and so began my long affair with Miss Clairol. Golden brown, light ash brown, light auburn, red (huge mistake), and a variety of brunettes. But as anyone of a certain age knows, they become even more stubborn. A flat refusal to soak in the color and, well, blend. 20 minutes, 30 minutes, even 40 minutes and still, bits of gray showing through. My hairdresser, Jeannette, suggested an overall coloring followed by high-lights that would help mask the intruders. It worked. But I began to tire of the whole process.
I remembered my mother who had finally given in to the grays and simply stopped coloring. I cited several actresses who had beautiful silver-ish locks and decided that, I too, would let it grow. I would become what I was. A 50 something grandmother. After all, there is no shame in aging gracefully...I refuse to have any "work"done so why force my hair to be something other than what it is supposed to be! 
I felt such freedom...such strength...such anticipation! I began to notice more and more women with gray and silver do's and I thought 'why hadn't I done this years ago?"
It was one morning aprox.eight weeks into the process that my husband, head tilted, slight frown said very matter-of-factly "the back of your head is completely gray."  "Yes, I know...I told you I was going to let my hair grow."  "But...it's gray." "Yes. What color did you think it was going to be? Maybe you thought that I had been hiding platinum blonde underneath the ash brown?"  He said nothing more (he's a smart man) but the moment he left I saw the sad truth in the bathroom mirror. The back of my head was, indeed, completely gray while the front had apparently not received the memo and was a strange sort of mottled color of brown, red, old blonde highlights and, of course, grey. My head resembled an aging, mangy calico cat.
I couldn't believe it! I cannot even begin to tell you how many miles I walk or how many boneless, skinless chicken breasts I have eaten and yet my cholesterol remains high. I changed my eating habits, exercise, and lifestyle and still I battle high blood pressure, but this...this particular betrayal was too much! Seriously? I can't even grow uniformly gray hair!!! Once again I had to face the cold hard facts. Gone were the long beautiful tresses of my youth and gone was the image of my new found self. Silver and glowing. 
I had no choice. I called Jeannette and made an appointment and she deftly colored the grays and left the high lights. We talked about a new hair style and I said that I would like to let it grow out a little. Jeannette knows me as well as she knows my hair and shows me how to style it while it is growing. She then places her hand on my shoulder and speaks carefully to my reflection "You are going to have to be a little patient."
Oh! I will... I think...maybe...at least for the next six weeks.

See ya Summer!

I no longer care for summer. There I've said it. I've tried but I find that for the last couple of years it has been simply a time of holding my breath and waiting for it to end. When I was a kid it was, of course, a wildly anticipated vacation. A respite from a hot 1960's classroom. A time to spend reading what I wanted instead what I was required to. In the '70s it was bikinis and basking in a mid-western sun slathered in iodine tinted baby oil trying to look as much like Farrah as we could. I love a tan. A real tan. Yes, I am aware of the repercussions... I read...but I still feel a little more alive when my skin has a peachy sort of glow, however, I must now admit that as I get older I have begun to notice that lying just beneath the glow are little brown spots and in certain areas rather large ummm splotch-iness which is really not the least bit attractive.
Never the less I, once again, filled the pool, bought the float and the suntan lotion with built in bronzer and faithfully climbed the ladder to spend an hour circling several days a week. I purchased three cute, summer dresses that were perfect for showing off a summer tan for those wonderful balmy evenings when we would venture into town to sit on a veranda or in a beer garden and sip margaritas or sweet wine. I even bought jewelry to complement each one; pink, yellow and blue baubles. I wore one of them...the pink one...once. We never sat on a veranda or even in a single beer garden this summer. 
As for the pool, there were a couple of days when I actually enjoyed it but, for the most part, it felt like a chore. The heat this summer, at an unbearable 110 for several days turned the pool into a large bath tub thereby offering no relief from July's burning rays. By August 1st I had had enough. I let the air out of the floats and packed the bathing suit and the bronzer away in zip lock baggies. 
The pool sits now, deserted except for the first leaves of fall floating in circles on top of the cool water. I say to myself that I will cover it for now and maybe, just maybe next year I will once again feel the spark of freedom summer once afforded and dive back in...but I know better. If I close my eyes I can still see me in my favorite bikini...white with black polka dots lying on a bath towel in the back yard of a tiny house on Lilac Lane. I can still hear the theme music and watch Farrah glowing and smiling, flipping those beautiful blonde tresses. 
But it is time to say goodbye...goodbye to the bikini, the tan,  Farrah and, lastly, the summer of my life.
Welcome fall...the best is yet to come.

Breast De-duction

Well it is that time of year again. Time for the annual "mommy parts" exams. So far so good but every year I am reminded of an exam that I had years ago. First I should say that there was a time when my weight was a problem...not being overweight, just imagining that I was. I was obsessed with a specific number and when the scale crept above it I became depressed and refused to eat. Then came the day when I looked at my boys and realized that being  healthy meant so much more than what a number or a reflection meant and so I changed my eating and exercising habits and threw the scale away...seriously...into the driveway!
When visiting the doctor I  covered my eyes and asked the nurse not to say the number aloud after being weighed...I simply did not want to revisit old habits. On one particular visit to my gynecologist I followed the routine...covered my eyes and asked the nurse not to tell me what the scale read. My doctor was not in he apparently had the nerve to leave and deliver a baby rather than see me so I saw the nurse practitioner. Exam over, I dressed and waited for my paperwork, instead the nurse entered the room and told me that the NP wanted to see me in her office. This can't be good. I sat in her whitewashed office nervously waiting, my pulse keeping time with the ticking of the clock that hung over her desk. Eventually she entered the room and took her seat, smiling sweetly.
"First," she said, "I want you to know that the exam was just fine and I don't suspect any problems however I did want to talk to you about your weight." Wait...what? "The nurse mentioned that you seem to be overly anxious about it and I think you should know that someone with breasts the size that yours are (big) is carrying around several extra pounds and of course that increases during times of the month."
Somewhere there is a little voice in my head that tells I am supposed to say something like Gosh Dr., thank you...I never thought of it like that. But that little voice never wins and instead I say without hesitation "You can just deduct body parts?" Her brow furrows and she cocks her head, puzzled. I can't stop myself and so "How much do you think my butt weighs?" Her eyes narrow as her brain scans the text books looking for this chapter: What to do when a patient questions your logic but apparently this particular situation isn't there. I, however, am on a roll. I raise my arm and point to that little bit of skin that has abandoned my elbow and begun to drift southward and I tug on it "I know this probably won't count for much but lets go ahead and deduct it too."  
A different sort of tight-lipped smile is now plastered on her reddening face. She stands and hands me the paperwork. "Please stop at the front desk on your way out."
I practically skip to the car. I leave feeling much lighter than when I entered and completely famished. As I eat a plate of super nachos and sip a glass of sangria I sketch on a cocktail napkin the design for a new t-shirt. It will of course read I Am Not Fat...I Just Have Big Boobs. 
I wonder if she'll want one.  

TOO LITTLE TOO LATE

The calendar clearly indicates that it is winter in the midwest with the first day of spring not to arrive for nearly two more months but you would have a tough time convincing my black lab of that. 56 degrees today and 60 tomorrow...early spring or a cruel hoax? The snow we got was minimal and disheartening for those of us who relish that big snow that traps us inside of our homes...forced to catch up on reading and drinking mulled wine. Watching the snow fall hour after hour through the frosted windows wearing flannel pajamas and no makeup means so many things to a midwesterner. It is filled with childhood memories of course and so much more. It is a reminder that calendars and schedules mean nothing to the natural forces that at any moment can take control of our days but snow is different from all of the other tricks in Mother Natures handbag. Unlike tornadoes, hurricanes or floods which frighten, devastate and drive us together...snow is beautiful...a pristine blanket that silences the world around us, isolating us from all except those who share our home. It is a necessary  part of our midwestern lives. It helps us keep track of our seasons not to mention our wardrobes. Spring: flowers and light sweaters, Summer: tomatoes and sandals, Fall: Pumpkins, jeans and flirty boots, Winter: Snow and heavy coats, scarves, hats, gloves, sleds and shovels!
When the boys were in school we couldn't wait for that day when the early news would call out the name of their school in the closings. Heaven! Hot chocolate and baking and board games and if we were lucky enough, power loss, so we would have to rely on candles to continue our board game. 
But no school closings this year. Christmas sleds and mittens left untouched. Bags of salt piling up in the local farm and home supply.
 Of course there is still time...still a chance that sometime in February or March we could hear the weather man say that the big one is on it's way but like the blind date who leaves you sitting at the restaurant nursing a glass of Chardonnay and fingering the silk scarf you bought especially for the occasion has the nerve to call you a couple of weeks later to say he is "really sorry but something came up" and "he would like to make it up to you"...well, I'm very sorry but... too little too late. Try me again next year.     

Powerless

When my internet dish was installed, the service man said that we should bury the cable to prevent damage...we didn't. Sometime during the summer my husband ran over it with the mower. That resulted in a small split that seemingly did no harm however as fall arrived with it's rain and winds, the split enlarged and eventually fried the modem. The cost was going to be high for internet that was incredibly slow for $79.00 per month so I decided I could get by without until I found a new provider. It has been three months...three long months!
I am trying to do my banking on my new smart phone and actually adapting but I miss reading the blogs I follow and I miss writing a blog particularly when I have so much to write about. I am driving to town weekly to update a couple of web sites I help with and I figure I am probably spending the same amount on gas that I would for the internet and so I am giving in..I am calling for a new internet connection because I have decided that even a slow internet is better than no internet!
Stay tuned...