ROFL

"Laugh at yourself and at life. Not in the spirit of derision or whining self-pity, but as a remedy, a miracle drug, that will ease your pain, cure your depression, and help you to put in perspective that seemingly terrible defeat and worry with laughter at your predicaments, thus freeing your mind to think clearly toward the solution that is certain to come. Never take yourself too seriously."
- Mandino, Og

This evening I had a great phone conversation with one of my closest friends. It was filled with side-splitting, eye-tearing laughter. Now, of course, the laughter was directed at me so maybe it shouldn't have been so funny, but it was a balm for my soul. Stepping back and seeing life for the comedy that it is can be important every now and again. I wasn't dealing with pain or depression, but still the ability to laugh at myself came in handy just the same. I'm glad, because I'm sure there will be plenty more opportunities to use this gift in the future. ROFL = Life is good!

Pretty in Pink

Yesterday I attended a wedding and it was one of the first really nice, warm, sunny days that we have had in a long time. The occasion definitely called for a cute dress and flirty shoes, so of course my fingernails and toenails had to look their best too. So out came the array of polishes in their many shades. What to choose?

I have colors ranging from a blackish purple to the palest pink. Peacock blue, glittering gold, sparkling silver, and glistening greens are some of those included in the mix. But it felt like a pink kind of day: happy and girly. So I narrowed my choices to "Pink I Can" and "Back to the Fuschia."

Just reading the names made me chuckle. I recently played a character named Mindy in a play set in the '80's called "Five Women Wearing the Same Dress." In the beginning of the second act, she questions why makeup is always named after food, naming colors like "Cha Cha Chinaberry, Maple Melon Mist, Raspberry Whip, Tangerine Dream, Simply Strawberry..." Trisha, another character chides her, saying "Well, what else are they going to name it after, Mindy? What are they going to say, 'Bleeding Wound Red?'" When we did the play, however, not a single one of the nail polishes that we used as props had a food name. Names were things like "Santa Fe," "Rose Blush," "Back of the Fuschia" and "Color Me Crimson." Perhaps "Bleeding Wound Red" is not so farfetched these days.

In any case, I decided that "Pink I Can" was just too pale when not contrasted with tan skin and settled on the bright pink of "Back to the Fuschia." A half hour or so later, all coats considered, my look was transformed. It's funny what a little polish can do. My feet went from naked to needing to be shown off. Just looking at my flirty pink tootsies made me smile.

Since I'm usually wearing flip-flops, sandals and open-toed shoes when it's warm here and tend to go barefoot more often than not when shoes are unnecessary, my toes are always painted in the summer. In the winter, I don't think about it much. My toes are tucked inside socks, stockings, shoes or boots, so why bother? Seeing my happy feet reminds me why. I like being a girl! In winter I get all bundled up in heavy clothes and just want to be comfortable and warm. I forget how much fun bouncy skirts and flowing sundresses can be. Pink toes make me think of those days. And now that I've seen what a difference a little color can make, those sunny days are here to stay!

"I believe in manicures. I believe in overdressing. I believe in primping at leisure and wearing lipstick. I believe in pink. I believe happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day, and... I believe in miracles."  - Audrey Hepburn

The Nature of Connections

Tonight I'm musing about relationships. I think it's so interesting that someone that you haven't seen in years can seem closer to you than someone you see and talk to every day. It's the nature of connections, I guess. The way you can hit it off immediately with someone, yet know someone else for years and never really know what makes them tick or find that common ground.

Anyone who knows me knows that I've never met a stranger. But why is it that we feel more comfortable around some people than around others? It's not always because we know them better or have spent more time with them. Sometimes we instinctively trust someone we've just met. Why?

There are people in my life that I know I can just pick up a conversation with no matter if I haven't spoken to them in weeks or months, even years. When we talk, it's like the time and and distance between us just melts away. My friend, Laura, and her family drive from Michigan to Vero Beach, FL around Easter each year for Spring Break, and make a point to stop near St. Simons along the way so we can at least grab a meal together. Last year, she called me to tell me that they had decided not to stop for lunch, but instead planned on staying the night so I could show them my island and we could have some more time together. I was thrilled. We spent the time laughing about old friends and parties that we had and places we had been just like they had happened yesterday. And though we may have only spoken by phone or email infrequently throughout the months that intervene, if they stop again this year, we'll do the same. It's so nice to have friends (and family) like that.

Does the connection that we feel with these people come from shared memories, common experiences, similar ideologies? I really don't know. How do friends gravitate to each other? Why do some friends last forever while others come and go out of our lives like the seasons? These things fascinate me.

Facebook has made these connections even more interesting. I can now stay in touch with people I lost contact with years ago, even though we are now in various states, doing very different things with our lives. And in the same way as in real life, some of those connections are just casual acquaintances that I'd like to keep up with but don't have much contact with, while others have prompted phone calls and visits and strengthening of relationships that otherwise might have been lost.

You never know exactly what role someone will play in your life, or how long they will be a part of it, for that matter. People who enter your life briefly or unexpectedly might have a greater impact or leave a more lasting impression than others that you might have expected to do so. So when someone reaches out for your hand, grab hold and make that connection.

Depeche Mode Was Right

I have been smiling all day today for a variety of reasons. These smiles have ranged from smiles of pure, unbridled happiness, to rueful "are you kidding me?" smiles, to head-thrown back belly laughs at some utterly comical moments. At one point today I swore that my life was what happened when God turned on the TV to watch her "stories."

Without going into detail about my day, suffice it to say that God has an exquisite sense of irony and, as Depeche Mode said, "a sick sense of humor."

And this is a lesson I should have already learned. When my family first moved to Georgia and I got my job on St. Simons Island, we lived about an hour away. I would load my son into the car each morning and make the monotonous, but not overly stressful, trip to the island to drop him off at preschool not far from my office. One day, I saw a man walking his daughter to the preschool from their house across the street. I took a look around the neighborhood. It was filled with nice, modest homes with little yards and beautiful live oak trees draped with Spanish moss. I remember sighing and saying to myself, "I wish I lived here. To be on the island, in walking distance from the school, and close to work. That would be just perfect."

After my ex-husband and I divorced, I moved to a small house on the island. It was so much closer to work and to Declan's school on the north side of the island. One evening not too long after the move, I was driving down my street and waved to Scott, a friend who lives with his wife and daughter a few houses down, and realized that Scott and Parker were the dad and daughter that I had seen when I said my little prayer a few years earlier. So here I am, exactly where I said I wanted to be. In that very same little neighborhood, in walking distance from Declan's old preschool. I certainly didn't get here in the way I imagined it when I made that "wish," but I'm here just the same. See? God does listen.

So one of the morals of the day is be careful what you wish for, because you just may get it. And then what? I'm really not sure . . . but I'm still smiling!

Listening With Your Heart

Today I received a wonderful compliment from Christy Trowbridge, the artist I profiled in the current issue of Coastal Illustrated, about how I really "get" her. She told me that, for the first time, a writer put down on the page what she wanted to be said or meant to say even if it wasn't exactly what she did say when we met. I absolutely love hearing that because it is always what I hope to do. As I previously wrote, I really enjoy meeting the people that I write about and I truly enjoy sharing their stories with others. So that fact that Christy liked the article I wrote and thought I was able to convey her thoughts accurately definitely merited a big smile.

When I profile a person, I want to get to know that person. I don't want a question and answer session. I want to get an understanding of what makes them tick, what they are passionate about, and what they are trying to convey about themselves. Open dialogue is important, and while I spend plenty of time talking, what I'm really doing is listening.

Listening seems to be a skill that many people have lost. Are we too caught up in our own world to pay attention to someone else? Are we so distracted by all the other things going on around us that we can't manage to give someone else our undivided attention?

To listen to someone is to not only hear what they are saying but also to process why they are sharing that information and the words they use to do so. When people talk to you do you just hear their words or are you listening to the meaning? Having an understanding of that person's mood and feelings is just as important as hearing the words themselves.

I think conversation is a give and take situation. Not only do you have to listen attentively, you need to acknowledge that you understand what you are being told. It is important to open yourself up to relate shared feelings and experiences. It is in these ways that connections are made. Don't just listen with your ears -- you'll only hear the sounds -- listen with your heart, and you will hear the real message. Remember all good conversations start with good listening.

Guilty Pleasure

 I heard about the TV show Friday Night Lights a few years ago. I knew there had been a movie by the same name that starred Billy Bob Thornton that I had seen, but it didn't make much of an impression. I was hearing great things about the TV show, though, and I have loved Kyle Chandler (Coach Tim Taylor) since I watched him on a TV series called Homefront when I was in college. So, sometime between the second and third seasons, I decided to sit down one afternoon and catch up by watching it on Netflix.

Not only did I like the show, I was blown away by the characters, the strong storylines, and a really good cast. Much to my surprise, what I had intended to be a casual look-see while nothing better was on, turned into a few marathon sessions to catch up with life in Dillon, Texas. The characters were believable and the town had a realistic feel to it. And then there was #33...



Taylor Kitsch playing a troubled Tim Riggins is pure sex on a stick. How could I resist that? Anyway, the show quickly became my new guilty pleasure.

Sadly, I think the show is now in its last season. But I am so glad I found it. It reminded me that there could still be good drama on TV. I felt invested in these characters unlike any contestant I could root for on any reality show. And I wasn't the only one. Friday Night Lights received such critical praise and had such a strong fan base that it became known as the "little TV show that could." Much credit goes to director Peter Berg. The second season had a bit of a bizarre storyline and the season was shortened due to the strike in Hollywood. Berg let the storyline continue to play out even though there were no cameras rolling. This allowed us to return to school with the players in the fall and see what happened over their summer in real time. Brilliant.

The show has been consistently excellent. The first season's cast graduated and new members have filled their places, just as would be expected for each school year. Bad things happen to good people and there isn't always a happy ending, but I've always felt satisfied with story. If you've missed the show, it's still available on Netflix, and the series is winding to a close on TV. A little time with Coach Taylor and his team is time well spent.

So I guess what I'm saying tonight is that Friday Night Lights is my guilty pleasure and that Tim Riggins can put a smile on my face any time. "Clear minds, full hearts, CAN'T LOSE!"

The Art of the Blog

So, somewhere in here I've managed to miss a day of blogging. Since technically my Sunday blog posted at 12:00am, I guess that made it Monday, but I had every intention of blogging last night and fell asleep before I got the laptop started. In any case, it's Tuesday and I'm short a blog entry. Then I remembered, this is MY blog, and it can be about whatever I want, in whatever form I want. 365 days of smiles doesn't have to be written over 365 days.

Over the last few days I've been working with words a lot. Words themselves make me smile. I like the art of language. Words like quash, scruples, and cacophony are things I just like to say. Words are fun to play with. Crossword puzzles, Word Challenge, word finds, Scrabble, Boggle, bring 'em on! I love word games and the way they challenge your brain.

I write every day for my job, but most of that writing is directed. I have a certain message that I need to get across, a subject I must address, a person that I need to depict with words. Blogging is different. This my stream of consciousness. When I blog, I just put my hands to the keyboard and see what happens. This is just one more way that I get to play with words. Fun, fun, fun!

On Friday night, I spent time with my friend, Judith, and she reminded me of something else that makes me smile: speaking and writing in French. My French skills used to be impeccable and Judith can speak comme une Parisienne. When I studied at L'Institute de Touraine, I was so proud when my linguistics lab professor didn't believe me when I told him I was American. He praised my pronounciation skills and said he never would have thought I was from the U.S., possibly from Montreal or somewhere in Canada, but not the U.S. Ironically, some Canadian tourists who thought I was French asked me for directions and assistance, thinking I was from Tours. Only when I heard them speaking English between themselves about what they wanted to ask me did I realize that they didn't know I spoke English. I figure that's not a bad feat, fooling the French into thinking I was a Canadian and fooling the Canadians into thinking I was French. Unfortunately, without daily use, my skills have grown rusty. Quel dommage! This is something I plan to remedy and practice more often, even if it's just with Judith.

One of the first blogs I ever subscribed to, and to this day one of my favorites, is "French Word-A-Day" by Kristin Espinasse. (http://french-word-a-day.typepad.com/motdujour/) Espinasse has published a book from that blog called Words in a French Life. She is my blog hero. She ties French vocabulary and idioms into short stories about her daily life with her children and French husband and family. She also includes beautiful photography. Kristin is witty, the blog is fun to read and educational too. Her "daily" blog has even morphed into a "thrice-weekly" blog. Kristin has found the way to do what I aspire to: combine a love of words (both English and French) with good writing to create something interesting and marketable. That, my friends, is the art of the blog.

Passion for Pigskin

Maybe it's in the blood. Maybe it's learned. I'm not sure. This week I heard my friends expressing their excitement about a special performance of  "La Boheme" by the Atlanta Opera Company at The Ritz Theatre in Brunswick today. While they discussed what a wonderful event this was going to be, I smiled and nodded, knowing that there was no way that I would be at that rare performance because I would instead have to indulge my own passion.

And so while numerous friends of mine packed The Ritz this afternoon for this exquisite bit of culture, I sat in front of a TV watching the Bears and Packers fight for the NFC Championship title and the right to play in the Super Bowl. Yep. I'll take pigskin over Puccini every time. How much do I love the game? If my son had been a girl, his name was going to be Payton -- as in Walter, "Sweetness," #34 for the Chicago Bears, and one of the best to ever play the game.

I grew up in the Chicago area during the Bears' 1985 Super Bowl campaign and complete domination of the Patriots. Mike Singletary, Dan Hampton, Gary Fencik, Richard Dent, Jimmy Mac, and even The Fridge were household names. I can still sing "The Super Bowl Shuffle" and love the word "outrageousness." Coach Ditka was every bit the hero that the guys on SNL proclaimed him to be. Those were the great days of football.

Though I moved away, I've retained a certain nostalgia for the Bears. Detroit certainly couldn't win my loyalty -- any team that makes Barry Sanders retire from football has a serious problem. In Jersey, there were too many choices, and McNabb with the Eagles just never moved me. Here, we're closer to Jacksonville, so the Jags seem the natural choice, but we've still got so many Falcons fans supporting those Dirty Birds. Just not feelin' it.

After I left Chicago, the only other team I cheered for consistently was the one led by my favorite quarterback: Brett Favre. That's right. I did the unthinkable (for a Chicago girl). I rooted for the Pack. Until those dismal days when Brett lost his mind. When he retired and decided to come back, trying to make the Packers look like the bad guys in a bad situation of his own making. I did not become a Jets fan, and I lost my respect for #4. When this nightmare repeated itself and Favre became a Viking, I vowed never to watch him again, and, for the most part, succeeded.

So today I found myself torn between wanting the Bears to take home a win and hoping that the Packers can make it to the Super Bowl so they can win one without their former franchise player and give Favre the bird as a sweet little farewell present for his last (we hope) season. Not a particular Christian sentiment, I know, but nonetheless something that would give me a sense of satisfaction. A little karmic justice, if you will.

The Packers did win, so it seems karmic justice is just a game away. Now, hopefully Big Ben and the Steelers will be the next to deliver their swan song. Who says football can't be as dramatic as the opera?!

**And this is for those of you who might have missed it the first time around:

The Bright Side

My friend, Joe, told me when I started this blog that I should save up some entries to use for those days when I just don't have a smile. And, with a smile (of course) and a chuckle, I told him that I NEVER have a day without a smile. Well, I'll be darned if today hasn't turned out to be one of those kinds of days!

It's not to say I had a particularly bad day, or that I didn't smile today, it's just that I've ended up in kind of a funk tonight and am not feeling all that inspired now that it's time to write. But, with a little help from my friends (about whom I've already blogged a time or two) I've found my smile and a nice piece of advice too:

What I've found as the inspiration for my smile has also been the source of a great number of smiles for countless people for quite some time. I discovered Monty Python in college, and they never fail to make me laugh out loud. Mention the parrot who's not dead, just "pinin' for the fjords" and I'm already close to rolling on the floor. I love the knights that say "Ni," and know exactly what you mean by "nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more, say no more." On occasion, I'll even sing "The Lumberjack Song."

A couple years ago, I went to see "Spamalot" with my brothers in Chicago. It was fantastic! Even though you already know all the punchlines from "Holy Grail," the jokes are as funny, if not funnier, than the first time you heard/saw them. Even the coconut hoofbeats had tears of laughter streaming down my face.

So today, thank you Michael Palin, Eric Idle, John Cleese Graham Chapman, Terry Jones and Terry Gilliam for reminding me to "always look on the bright side of life." (And to my cousin Bryan for the suggestion that I do so.)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friends Redux

I feel like I'm reliving yesterday's blog entry, because I'm just going to have to say it again: I have the coolest job ever! Tonight, it allowed me to sit down with some wonderful friends -- including a former Spotlight subject or two -- and have a unique and fantastic dining experience that I'll share in detail with you at a different time. It was a great night with great food and great people.

I have such amazing friends. They are talented, smart, and, above all, each have a very keen sense of humor. Some are native Georgians, but many are transplants like me, coming from New Jersey or Michigan or Florida. No matter whether we're hanging out in a restaurant, catching a movie, lounging by the pool or chilling on the beach, these people know how to have fun!

I consider one of my greatest strengths to be my ability to surround myself with great friends. I enjoy their company tremendously. As important to me as being a good mother is being a good friend. It's my way of showing my appreciation for allowing me to be a part of your life. Friendship is vital to my sanity, and has provided the strength to get me through the hard times in my life.

From those who show their support for my work to those who share daily affirmations with me, from those who put up with my faults to those who will finish the bottle of wine with me -- and especially to those who help me to laugh at myself -- I am blessed to have you in my life. It may sound cliche, but I really have no words to express how much you all mean to me. So, just suffice it to say, you DA BOMB!

Thank you, my friends, for the all the ways that you have reminded me how lucky I am this week! My smile is even bigger today!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Social Network That is My Life

I absolutely love my job! This hasn't been the case for every job I've ever held, so I consider myself to be so very, very lucky. I think I've managed to find my niche although it is such a different path than the one I initially chose for myself. The work makes me happy and you can't put a value on that.

One of the best parts of the job is meeting new people. From the people involved in the organizations whose events that we cover to the musicians in the bands whose local gigs I help promote on Facebook, I get to know so many people that I might not otherwise meet. As the writer of a Spotlight column that features profiles of individuals, I am always on the look-out for people with something interesting to share and I have never been disappointed. Some of my closest friends today were once the subject of a Spotlight column or some other feature that I wrote in Coastal Illustrated.

I have interviewed some football greats, including one two-time Pro-Bowl player that sports a Super Bowl ring. I had a fascinating conversation with one of the men who helped save Lady Liberty as a founding board member of the Statute of Liberty-Ellis Island Foundation. I have spent hours with very talented artists, actors, writers, and some up-and-coming musicians. And, much to my surprise, I have found fellow Michigan State fans and alumni way down here in Coastal Georgia. The people I've featured in the Spotlight column have come from all different walks of life and such a variety of places.

I've been complimented on my ability to put people at ease and make the interview process a fun and painless one. I always think this is funny, because I don't do anything different than I do when I'm meeting someone new in a setting unrelated to the job. I told a person I sat down with recently that I don't consider these meetings "interviews" so much as an opportunity to sit down and make a new friend. And I really feel blessed to be surrounded with such talented, interesting, and generous people.

Facebook, of course, has added a whole new dimension to the social interaction in my job. Nearly 1000 people are "Fans" of Coastal Illustrated and have regular daily contact with our Facebook Fan Page. More than 400 people sign up to receive weekly messages as a member of the Friends of Coastal Illustrated group. Often I get feedback from fans and group members that I have never met. Some of these people who started out as people I only knew through Facebook have also become some of my closest friends in "real life." When I hear the argument that this social networking technology is detracting from real personal relationships, I have to laugh because I have found exactly the opposite to be true. I have been able to reach out to more people and have more interaction with those people than I would have without it -- and the Internet connections often become real connections and contacts in the Golden Isles.

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out.  It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.  We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.  ~Albert Schweitzer

So, here's to a great week marked by making new friends. I appreciate all of the friends I have made here in the Golden Isles. And to my other friends who are not here but have touched my life throughout the years, know that I consider myself blessed to know you all and my inner spirit will always burn bright.

Howling at the Moon

There's a full moon tonight and it calls to my heart. I wish I could be on the beach watching the light reflecting off the waves and listening to the music of the tides. Instead, I'll share a song that always comes to mind when I look up at a full moon.

This is from a 1993 movie called "That Thing Called Love," starring Samantha Mathis, River Phoenix, Sandra Bullock, and Dermot Mulroney. It's an underrated movie that had some pretty good music.

I have a dream of my own
And it's mine and mine alone
It's been my friend since I was just a girl
It has a life, it has a heart
It has a soul and it's a part
Of everything this woman gives the world

And it's a big dream
Big enough to share
Like a rainbow, hanging in the air
And I thank God, for making it come true
Makes me think maybe God's a woman too
Makes me think maybe God's a woman too


There's a full moon tonight
And I'm bathing in its light
Naked as the day that I was born
There is no shame beneath this sky
I have kissed the past good bye
And mended up my broken heart so torn


With a sweet sound only I can make
And it gets stronger 
With every breath I take
And it's all a part of making me brand new
Makes me think maybe God's a woman too
Makes me think maybe God's a woman too

Summer of Love

The summer of 1988 changed my life forever. That was the summer that I studied in the Loire Valley of France. I used this amazing opportunity to visit places like Paris, Barcelona, Valencia, Cologne, Brussels and Brugge. That time had a profound effect on me. I was surrounded by art, history, culture, and a dizzying array of new experiences. I made friends with fellow students and travelers from all over the world. I also fell utterly and completely in love.

A summer fling, you're thinking, hardly a surprise. But no, it was much more than that. The deep affection and unconditional love I felt then has never wavered. I had a taste of the exotic, a delicious departure from the ordinary, and I would never again be satisfied by less. Nothing else was quite the same. The loss I felt when I returned to the States was keen, but eventually faded into pangs of nostalgia.

Time passed, yet memories remained. And one joyous day I was lucky enough to rediscover my love. To my surprise, a flame that never died was rekindled. A hunger that nothing else could satisfy could once again be sated. And I will never let go...

Thank God for Nutella USA!

Lullaby For a Man Who Had a Dream

Sleep. Sleep tonight.
And may your dreams
Be realized.
If the thunder cloud
Passes rain,
So let it rain.
Rain down on him.

Mmm, mmm, mmm
So let it be.
Mmm, mmm, mmm
So let it be.

These simple lyrics penned by four young fellas from Ireland a few decades ago comprise one of the most beautiful and haunting lullabies I have ever heard. It has always been a song that I have loved. And so, "MLK" by U2 is the best way I can think of to pay tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr. on this day. Here's to the man and his optimistic dream. I too hope that someday it might in fact be realized, because, sadly, I don't think we're there yet.

That Boy From Tupelo

Thanks to Tim and Annie Akins, I have Elvis on my mind tonight. So, I figure that's as good a subject as any to blog about because Elvis is indeed another one of those things (or, in this case, people) that make me smile.

If you don't know them, Tim and Annie are a very talented singing duo that hail from Brunswick. They provided the live music at the Golden Isles Bridal Fair where I was working today. I know Tim and Annie on a personal basis and have heard them perform in concerts at the St. Simons Lighthouse. They sing all manner of music from bluesy soul to beach music to contemporary Christian. But this afternoon Tim completely surprised me by channeling the late, great Elvis Presley in a terrific rendition of "Don't Be Cruel." Tim's imitation of The King was absolutely spot-on. If I had closed my eyes, I would have sworn that Gladys and Vernon's boy was alive and well on Jekyll Island. I was utterly amazed and instantly filled with absolute glee! I clapped my hands together and squealed -- yes, possibly out loud -- with delight while Annie laughed at my excitement.

Now I have to admit, I haven't always been an Elvis fan. Elvis was sitting down with an audience to film the 1968 Comeback Special just a month before I was born. When he died in 1977, I had just turned 9 years old. So the Elvis that I "knew" was that bloated-looking guy in the spangled jumpsuits who did weird karate moves and was always wiping off his sweaty face with a towel. Not terribly impressive. I really didn't get why everyone thought he was such a big deal. Two things changed my opinion: the Elvis Christmas album and Viva Las Vegas. 

At some point after Elvis' death, I remember coming across an Elvis album (yes, album, meaning a vinyl LP) in my parents' record collection. I thought this was rather strange, because neither one of them ever professed any love for Elvis, nor could I ever remember them listening to Elvis music. But there was the Elvis Christmas album, and it just begged to be played. I loved it and Christmas has never been the same. Elvis' "Blue Christmas" and "Santa Claus is Back in Town" are as much a part of a Christmas tradition in my house as Santa himself. Everyone who spends any time with me during the holiday season knows this to be true. The Elvis Christmas album will be played while I decorate the Christmas tree. This tradition has even followed me to my friends' houses and to the office.

My discovery of Elvis movies happened by accident, it was when TBS or TNT used commemorate his birthday or the anniversary of his death with an Elvis movie marathon. I started watching and I was hooked. I was impressed with Jailhouse Rock, amused by Blue Hawaii, and dazzled by Viva Las Vegas. His chemistry with Ann-Margret was fun to watch, and I became a sucker for these cheesy musicals. While there are a few than even I find hard to watch, like Kissin' Cousins, I've pretty much seen them all. I can even tell you that it was a young Kurt Russell that Elvis paid to kick him in the shin so he could meet the cute girl doc in It Happened at the World's Fair.

So, there you have it. I'm an Elvis fan. Except I'm really a pre-sequined jumpsuit Vegas Elvis fan. "Alright Mama" will always be one of my very favorite Elvis songs. I prefer that young, raw talent and enthusiasm more than the more seasoned studio-polished classics like "Suspicious Minds" or "In the Ghetto." So when Tim channeled that boy from Tupelo today, I just couldn't help but grin with undisguised delight. It was like there was a little bit of Graceland right here in the Golden Isles, and for that, all I can say is "Thank ya. Thank ya verra much."

I'll Follow the Sun

Today was an absolutely gorgeous, sunny day. A smile touched my lips every time I went outside because it was simply glorious, especially in light of the recent frigid temperatures.

I realized several years ago what a difference sunshine makes in my mood. Living for so many years in the Midwest, I became accustomed to cold, gray, dreary winters. Even if there wasn't snow, it seemed that the days were monochromatic. Everything took on a steely hue. When there was snow, it quickly became dirty and salt and sludge were everywhere. The winter months--which seemed to last forever--were just depressing.

When I moved to New Jersey, I discovered that we experienced many more days of sunshine (and higher temperatures) per year. It was a meteorologic fact. I felt happier. I had more energy. I didn't feel the need to hole up and hibernate until spring returned. The grey days were much fewer and far between and didn't have such a profound effect.

Down here in Coastal Georgia, we have even more sunshine on average. My mood is instantly lifted when I wake to blue skies and rays of sun filtering through the Spanish moss that drapes the tree in front of my window. My office has a wall of windows that I gaze out of often throughout the day. I can't help but smile when I get to look out on a sun-kissed world. I want to walk to somewhere nearby for lunch and can't wait to get out in it. When it's overcast or rainy, I'm just glad to be inside and will try at any costs to avoid going out if I don't have to.

And then there's the beach. Is there anything more perfect than seeing the sun rise or set over the water? I sincerely don't think so. It is in those moments of pure beauty that I see God. The sun reflecting off the water creates a light that penetrates straight to my soul. I am so blessed to live in a place where such moments are commonplace.

Walt Whitman said, "Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you." I believe that is wise counsel, so, in the words of the Beatles, "I'll follow the sun."

Savoring the Moment

When I began this blog I had no intention of making it another momblog. I knew that I would write about Declan because he is such a vital part of my life and a very large part of my daily existence, but that wouldn't be the focus of the blog. Somehow it's taking a life of its own, however, and I feel compelled to write about Declan again today. If you're tired of hearing about the kid, go ahead and stop reading now. I won't be offended, really.

At approximately 4:20 a.m., Declan climbed into my bed coughing and telling me that he felt hot. This is not a common occurrence in our house. I am fortunate that Declan was never one of those children that would get up and want to come in your room after he was put to bed. Once Declan was tucked into his bed, he never fussed and almost immediately fell asleep. This has not changed over the years. If he comes into my room in the middle of the night, there's something wrong. A bad dream is very rare. Sometimes a tummy ache or coughing will bring him in, generally in the wee hours of the morning. I think when he comes in, he usually asks whether he can get into the bed before climbing in, but, to be honest, I'm usually so groggy with sleep that I'm not sure, and I can also say that I'm too tired to say no.

So this morning when he came in, I felt his head and found it to be quite warm. I got up, grabbed a thermometer, took his temperature (102 degrees) and gave him some Advil. I resigned myself to the fact that this meant we'd be home with a sick day, then crawled back into bed. Declan immediately scooted over to snuggle up alongside of me and pulled my hand over to rest on his belly. I smiled at this tiny gesture filled with affection and went back to sleep. (Well, really, I tried to go back to sleep while the boy coughed and took deep wheezing breaths next to me.)

We saw the doctor today and received a round of antibiotics and medicine to treat congestion and keep those really evil things like bronchitis and pneumonia away. So we're on our road to recovery. Still, when Declan was putting on his pajamas and getting ready for bed he asked if he could sleep in my bed tonight because he was still "feeling a little bit bad." I didn't give it a second thought. "Sure," was my response. He gave me a big smile and a "Yay!" then began the process of deciding which one of his menagerie of stuffed animals would join him.

Declan will turn 8 in less than two months. Not a night goes by without good night hugs and kisses. He doesn't hesitate to grab the hand I hold out when we're walking across a parking lot or street. When I take him to school, he likes me to come in, have breakfast and then walk him to class instead of allowing him to walk in by himself from the drop-off line. When I leave him at the front door of his classroom, I get hugs and big full lip smooches good-bye, often with a request for just one more. More than one mom has told me that they were envious because their child won't even let them kiss them good-bye or be affectionate in public.

Declan still wants to be hugged and snuggled. He doesn't yet care whether or not it's "cool" to kiss your mom. I am so lucky. I plan on savoring every moment--every hug, every kiss, and every minute spent snuggling--because not only does it make me smile, I know it won't last forever

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The Way to a Mother's Heart

If you've never been to what I like to think of (and perhaps channeling Crazy Steven in Braveheart) as "my island," you might not know that it's a bit of a haven for professional athletes. St. Simons is the birthplace of a man considered to be one of the greatest football players of all-time, Jim Brown. It is also the current home of several PGA Tour pros, including Davis Love III, Jonathan Byrd, Zach Johnson and Matt Kuchar. Thanks to the golfers our home now hosts the McGladrey Classic PGA Tour event. Yet, while these guys may be stars in the world of golf, on the island they are pretty regular guys, involved in the community and living quiet lives among us. Another local who has made a name for himself in professional sports appears in a picture with my son in the current Coastal Illustrated .

When native son Adam Wainwright is not on the mound for the St. Louis Cardinals, he lives on St. Simons Island with his family. The Glynn Academy graduate is a 2009 Golden Glove winner and the 2010 runner-up for the Cy Young Award. In 2006, he pitched the winning game of the World Series, he won the Players Choice Award for outstanding pitcher in 2009, and pitched in the 2010 All Star Game. And for all that, he's one of the most humble, genuine, and unassuming guys you'll ever meet.

I've seen Adam out and about with the family on the island or grabbing a bite at Sweet Mama's. He blends in so well that I probably wouldn't recognize him at all if it weren't for the fact that he's so tall. I've never had the occasion to meet Adam personally. I know from the sports writers at the paper that he's very accessible and they enjoy talking with him because he's always cracking jokes. One of the things that impresses me the most about Wainwright is that I have never heard anyone say a bad word about him...and this is where he grew up and so many people know him. Adam holds an annual golf tournament that benefits local programs and he also recently visited the kids at Declan's elementary school because a few of them had won lunch with him as part of a raffle drawing.

Declan came home the day that the raffle winners were announced complaining that he didn't win. I chuckled at this because my son has never shown the slightest interest in baseball. He doesn't play the sport nor does he have any desire to watch it on TV. And though I watched the game and followed various teams and players when I was younger, I no longer have any particular team loyalty. The only time I'd watch a game is at a ballpark or if someone I'm with has it on TV. My family is made up of Cubs and Phillies fans, so I pay attention to their scores and standings, and I do the same with the Braves in deference to the locals. I have no problem cheering on the Cards because Adam is a fellow islander, but, really, I just can't bear to sit through a game on TV.

Knowing this, I challenged Declan by asking him if he even knew on which baseball team Adam played. His response, "The Falcons." Embarrassing. When I asked him what position Adam played, he did redeem himself by answering correctly that Wainwright was a pitcher...to which I responded, "Lucky guess." No, the boy did not have my sympathy.

However, when I found out that Adam would be at Ziggy's to help host a concert by up-and-coming country singer Craig Campbell, I decided to take Declan over so he could have a chance to meet this baseball player he had so desperately wanted to have lunch with and get his autograph. He was thrilled and wanted to make sure he had something special for Adam to sign -- not just a piece of paper. Since the child doesn't play the sport, we had no baseball on hand (and try finding one after 6pm on the island in the winter!) but I was able to avert a complete meltdown by locating a baseball glove given to him by a friend that he had forgotten he owned. And so, armed with glove and a Sharpie, we stood in line at Ziggy's while Adam chatted with friends and fans and graciously signed whatever people handed him.

Declan got the autograph he wanted and talked the MLB star a bit. When the line died down, Adam pulled him aside again to tell him that there were a couple other guys there that he might also want to ask to sign his glove. He pointed out fellow Cards pitcher Ryan Franklin and former Braves pitcher Blaine Boyer. Declan was positively ecstatic to have this "secret tip" from Adam!

But what won this mom's heart was hearing an exchange Adam had with Declan about whether he played baseball. When Declan told him that he didn't play baseball but did play football, Adam asked whether he was any good. Declan replied with a grin and a shrug, "Yeah. I'm pretty good at tackling. I can tackle a guy bigger than me and take him down to the ground." Wainwright pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Declan with his pen, and said, "Well then maybe I'd better get your autograph." The smile on my son's face was brilliant. With that one small act, Adam Wainwright became Declan's hero and might just have made baseball fans out of us too! After all, the way to a mother's heart is through her child's smile.

The Joy of the Unexpected

Today was a day filled with smiles! My cup runneth over. Generally speaking, it was a rather uneventful Wednesday, but it was marked by random and unexpected moments of delight.

Out of the blue I was asked to play a great character in a local stage production later this year. It's an amazing and challenging role and I'm flattered to be considered. It will be in a new venue, I'll be working with actors I really respect, and I'm so excited! Stay tuned for more details.

I had a terrific "working" lunch with some amazing women that I am fortunate enough to call my friends. The lunch was at a fabulous local restaurant that serves some of the most delicious, creative, and flavorful food in the Golden Isles, and it was there that I lost my heart. His name is Cajeta -- exotic, no? He's dark and delicious, very sweet, warm, and rich too. What a combination! My lunch companions loved him too, and I think we'll probably all be seeing more of him in the future.

And do you remember that Lucky Vanous Diet Coke commercial? No . . . never mind. This unexpected moment doesn't need to be shared, but suffice it to say that I had a ridiculous ear-to-ear grin plastered on my face and it stuck around for awhile.

So my thoughts tonight are on how random and unexpected moments can bring such joy into your life. Sometimes that happiness is beautiful and fleeting like a rainbow after a storm. Other times what began as happy circumstance can endure and warm you like the glowing embers in a fire. Life is so much richer for all of these experiences.

"Colder Weather"

If you know me at all, you know I'm not a big fan of country music. While I don't mind the renegades like Waylon and Johnny Cash, and I can sing along with "Friends in Low Places" and "Jose Cuervo," my tastes run more toward the rock/pop/alternative end of the music spectrum. I started paying attention to the Zac Brown Band because I heard good reviews from my friends with similar musical tastes and I had heard that Kid Rock was gigging with the band.

You see, I'm a big Kid Rock fan, much to the surprise of many people. I don't love rap music, so when Kid bust onto the scene with his high-energy, headbanging performance of "Bawitdaba" on MTV's Spring Break, I just gaped in amazement seeing the way this guy could rev up a crowd. When I next saw the rocker he was tossing mics with Steven Tyler during "Walk This Way," owning the stage and completely holding his own next to the outrageous Aerosmith frontman. I was even more impressed. His songs were hard rocking Americana, sometimes a little raunchy for my taste, but as I learned more about Detroit's own Bob Ritchie, I discovered he was a pretty talented musician. When the Sheryl Crow duet "Picture" hit the airwaves, that sold me completely.

Strangely, it seems the country music world has accepted Kid Rock more readily than the rock/rap world from which he came. He is embraced openly by Hank Williams, Jr., Shooter Jennings and Willie Nelson. He's got some street cred in Nashville, so when Kid Rock started talking about the Zac Brown Band and hopping on stage with them for performances, I wanted to check these guys out. I had heard "Chicken Fried" and figured it was a surefire country hit, but decided to tune in during the CMT Artists of the Year special to see why these guys were being honored as one of the featured bands.

I fell in love with Zac and the boys with just one performance. Their new song "Colder Weather" is great, but it was the fact that they sang it with Amos Lee, a musician who is very special to my heart, that made me an instant fan.

I first saw Amos Lee play at a bar called Abilene in downtown Philadelphia. He was working at Tin Angel as a bartender and singing at some of the downtown bars. I was there with my husband and my cousin and her boyfriend and happened to be in a celebratory mood because that afternoon I had discovered that I was pregnant with my son. Lee was an outstanding musician, playing bluesy originals and taking requests from the crowd. The requests were pretty amusing because people would ask for R.E.M. or other pop favorites that were clearly not Lee's style, and you could tell that he was itching to do soul classics and gritty blues. I took pity on him and requested "At Last," a favorite song of mine that I thought he could do justice. He beamed at me and sang a rendition that would have made Etta James herself proud. Now, looking back, I think the song choice was prophetic -- this boy of mine was in fact my love that had come home "at last" and completed my life. In any case, I will never forget that it was Amos Lee that sang to me on that special night.

I've followed Lee's musical career in the days since Abilene, running out to buy copies of his debut album for me and my cousin as soon as they were available. When I heard "In the Arms of a Woman" during the end credits of "Gray's Anatomy," I knew he had hit the big time. He has toured with Norah Jones, Elvis Costello and Bob Dylan, and recorded two more albums since his debut. The moment when he shared the spotlight with a band being honored as one of the "Young Artists of the Year" was just perfect for me. Kudos to the Zac Brown Band for sharing the stage with this talented man and for a beautiful song. Amos Lee, thank you for another performance I'll never forget. And thanks to Kid Rock for leading me to the musical convergence that made my heart sing.

So here's today's smile, apropos of the current 32 degree temp and the fact that right now 49 out of 50 states have snow. Ladies and gentlemen, I present "Colder Weather" by the Zac Brown Band featuring Amos Lee:
http://www.cmt.com/videos/zac-brown-band/603262/colder-weather-artists-of-the year.jhtml?artist=3096016

An Animated Life

I have always been a movie buff. Whether the big screen, buttery-popcorn-in-lap experience of the theater or an evening in pj's on the couch with a stack of rentals -- or now streaming Netflix -- "going to the movies" is a favorite pastime. Since becoming a mom, however, my cinematic fare has weighed heavily toward kids and family films. Tonight, we watched Pixar's Up on Encore, and it ended just in time for us to catch Ratatouille on the Disney channel. Neither of these are on my list of favorites, but they're good for entertaining the boy at home on another freezing night.

What are some of the kids movies I do love? Here are 10 of my favorites in no particular order.

1. Finding Nemo From Marlin and Nemo to Bruce and Crush, these characters make for an all-time favorite animated movie. To this day I think Dory is one of the best characters ever, whether you like Ellen Degeneres or not. And below the surface of this contemporary kids classic are messages about faith and family that should resonate with everyone. My mother has even given a sermon that discusses "speaking whale."

2. Lion King This one I bought well before Declan was ever born. I. Love. It. Nothing more to be said . . . except Hakuna Matata!

3. Kung Fu Panda Jack Black as a fat, funny, clumsy panda who loves martial arts. What's not to love?

4. Pete's Dragon I know, totally corny. Mickey Rooney, Helen Reddy, Red Buttons, Shelly Winters, some little red-haired, freckled kid and a cartoon dragon named Elliot. I can sing every song in this movie, and owned the soundtrack album (yes, an actual vinyl LP) when I was little.

5. Toy Story Buzz, Woody and the gang never get old for me. I will admit, however, that I am behind the times because I have only seen the first two movies. Declan saw Toy Story 3 without me and I have yet to catch up. Santa did put it under the tree so I plan to do that soon.

6. Robin Hood I'm pretty sure my first crush was on the animated fox in this cartoon version of the Sherwood Forest tale.

7. Monsters, Inc. A truly clever story idea and animation so good that I still love watching Sully's blue fur ruffle in the wind.

8. Cars Ka-chow! Another fun story with great voice talent. Who doesn't love 'Mater? The late, great Paul Newman as Doc Hudson was casting at its best.

9. Babe A wonderful, inspirational movie that wasn't too corny and was just cute enough. If I'm ever flipping through the channels and it's on, I'll watch it every time.

10. The Wizard of Oz A true classic. No other way to describe it.

In the honorable mention category: The Incredibles, Wall-E, The Emperor's New Groove, Surf's Up and the recent How to Train Your Dragon, because not only is Toothless the Dragon adorable, I could listen to the brogues of Gerard Butler and Craig Ferguson all day.

So those are some of the kids movies that make me smile. I'm sure there are others that I've forgotten to mention. There aren't many of the old Disney "classics" on here, but I find they aren't the ones we tend to watch over and over like many of the newer movies. I can say, however, that I am thankful that the offerings for kids seem to keep getting better and better. Now that you've seen my list, what are some of your favorites?

A Two Dog Night

According to the Weather Channel, it currently feels like it's 32 degrees on St. Simons Island. The wind is cold and blustery, and I have actually had to don my real winter jacket today. You know, the one I wore in places where we habitually got snow in the winter. And despite all the years I have spent in those places, I am not immune to feeling the chill here. I am downright cold!

My little two story beach house has a thermostat located upstairs, I assume to better regulate the air conditioning and keep it cool in the summer. In the winter, however, it means that the warm air stays upstairs and the main floor with its covered but uncarpeted concrete slab floor and sliding glass door never quite loses the chill. No fireplace either, so I keep plenty of cozy throws handy.

The aborigines (or Inuits, depending on who you believe) call cold nights like these -- well, really nights much, much colder than this, probably -- three dog nights. It's a night that is so cold that you need three dogs huddled on your bed to keep you warm. Luckily, I have two canine companions who can fill the bill. And I'm not talking about a couple dainty lapdogs. Nope, these two beasts each weigh 70+ pounds . . . but, admittedly, they do still think they are lapdogs.

Max is the big guy.

I found him on Petfinder.com and we adopted him from a shelter a month after I had Declan. He had been at the shelter for quite some time and we were told he's mostly American Staffordshire Terrier. Max is a wonderful dog and he was the perfect choice for a dog to grow up with a little boy. When Declan was little, he used to climb all over Max while Max just waited patiently for him to get off. Max is affectionate, eager to lick your face or rest his head or paws on you. If you let him, he'll climb up to sit on your lap -- which due to his size, generally cuts off all of your circulation. He is content to curl up on the couch or the bed and spend a lazy day or to go out and run and play.

Max is also very smart and has the soul of a rambler. In Houdini-like fashion, every few months he finds a new way to escape the fenced backyard and roam the neighborhood. Luckily, he manages to find his way home or, being the friendly fella that he is, goes to make a new friend who then calls me upon reading the info on his tag. Before we moved to the island, Max once went after a cat, slipping his collar in the chase, and disappeared for about three weeks. I was heartbroken and terrified I'd find him lifeless on the side of one of the local roads. Just when I had resigned myself to the fact that I would probably never see Max again and had put his bowls and bed up in the attic, he appeared behind me as I loaded Declan into the car one morning. His tail was wagging furiously and I'd have sworn he was smiling. He went right to the front door, as if to say, "Can I go in now?" Once inside he plopped down on the floor contentedly. He was no worse for wear. No injuries. Not dehydrated or famished. Just happy to be home. Where was he? I'll never know, because he's still not talking. I'm just glad he came back.

Charleigh is the baby girl.

 
This poor pup was running back and forth across traffic on 17N when Declan and I spotted her late one Saturday afternoon a couple years ago. She was all bony hips and legs and her ribs were clearly visible. Declan said, "Mom, that dog is going to get hit by a car!" I agreed and told him that I'd stop to see if it would come to me so we could get it out of the road. I pulled off onto the curb and opened my car door, "C'mon baby. Come here. C'mon puppy." The scrawny little white dog jumped right in and up onto my lap, where it let out a deep sigh and rested its head on its paws. So very sweet! Then it lifted its head and gave Declan a quick lick on the face. He giggled and said, "Mom, I want to keep this dog and name him Charlie." I took an assessing look at the dog, and made the quick deduction that it was a Saturday night, the animal shelter was closed and would be for the next day, so the dog would be coming home with us for the weekend. I was a goner. Unless there was something seriously wrong with this dog, there's no way Declan would be willing to let it go after having it around for a couple days! I sighed, "Well, Declan, it's a girl, but we can still name her Charleigh."

And so we became a two dog family. Charleigh, because she is younger, has been more of a handful, but she's a sweet dog who just wants to be loved. I had hoped that she would be a good companion for Max, but I can't say whether that has actually been the case. I think really he just tolerates her. I'm pretty sure I've actually caught him rolling his eyes at me on occasion, as if to say, "Why did you bring her home again?" But they do play together and have no problem curling up next to each other to sleep, so I think maybe their relationship is the same as human brothers and sisters. In my experience, that's a bond that just gets stronger with time.

So on this winter night I'm happy for my two dogs. As I write this, Charleigh is curled up on the couch in the crook of my legs with her chin resting on my knees. Max is upstairs sprawled on the bottom bunk with his sleeping boy in the glow of the lava lamp. Canine comfort on a cold, cold night is something that makes me smile indeed.

Don't Mess With Momma Bear

I have a very good friend who I affectionately call "Momma Bear" because her fur ruffles at any threat (real or perceived) to her family -- especially her children. I am also fortunate that she considers me and my son part of the extended family that includes those close to her heart. When one of her children is hurt or suffers from mistreatment by others, she gets angry. And, when angry, this "Momma Bear" rivals any protective grizzly you might encounter in the wild! A word of warning to anyone who dares cross this formidable woman.

While I may tease her about her protective nature, I admire it a great deal. As a mother of a son who is growing up so very fast, I am torn between trying to remove adversity from his path and sitting quietly aside while he figures out how to deal with that adversity. I know I can't fight my son's battles for him and that he needs to learn to make his own choices and live with the consequences of those choices. But that's difficult when it would be so simple just to clear the path and make it easier for him. This week proved to be a real test for me.

Declan and I engaged in a three-day battle of wills over homework. It is absolutely amazing to see how stubborn a child can be when he does not want to do something. It took him approximately two hours to copy seven spelling words onto a notebook page. That might be some kind of world record!

Up to this point in time, I have always made sure that Declan finishes his homework assignments, even if it means waking him up early in the morning to complete his work. But, after three nights of this ongoing fight where he played with his notebook paper, spiral rings, pencils, pencil sharpener, random items within his reach, etc. instead of doing the work, I decided that was it. I put him to bed with work undone, I got him up at the normal time, and sent him to school with incomplete assignments, knowing that his teacher would discipline him for the unfinished work. I even went so far to go to the teacher and tell her that I fully expected her to impose discipline and warned her that he might have a meltdown when that occurred, and that I was fine with that.

What kind of mother am I? Actually wanting my child to get in trouble at school? Where is my "Momma Bear" instinct? Aren't I supposed to want to protect my son from negative results?

I mulled this over, feeling a little guilty. But the more I thought about it, it became clear that what I was doing by letting his teachers discipline him was allowing him to experience the consequences of his bad decisions and refusal to do the work. My decision not to step in and strong arm him into finishing the work just to shield him from discipline was the loving act of a mother who knows that her cub must grow up and leave the den. I chose to let him get hurt a little bit so he learns not to do the same thing again in the future. I am protecting him by making him strong enough to face the more life-threatening hazards that will surely await him later in life.

We don't defend our children because we think they are perfect. We know our children's faults and love them in spite of those faults. We defend our children because they are ours! We will let them make their mistakes, but we will be there to help them when they fall. And, no matter what, our fur will ruffle when our cubs -- whatever their age -- are threatened or hurt by someone. It's just the nature of the momma bear, and a momma bear is something I am very happy to be.

Casi Cielo

Yes, I'll admit that despite my conscious efforts to shop and eat local, I do fall off the wagon. I carry a Starbucks card and subscribe to their multi-media marketing blitz. Sorry. Well anyway, today Starbucks announced the return of Casi Cielo, a coffee blend from Guatemala. I could care less about what new (or old) coffee Starbucks is serving, but the words casi cielo captured my attention. I love the way they roll off the tongue. Casi cielo means "almost heaven" in Spanish. Beautiful.

So it got me to thinking, what is casi cielo in my world?

A nice long soak in a hot tub filled with fragrant bubbles.

You see, there's something you may not know about me . . . I'm part mermaid. I'm sure of it. A spell in the tub doesn't just make me happy, it is essential to my well-being.

When I was growing up, it used to drive me crazy when my mother would only allow me to partially fill the tub for a bath -- with the water level being just above your ankle if you stood. I'm not sure why she did that; probably that fear of drowning thing they instill in mothers, or maybe it had something to do with her growing up in a big family on a farm long, long ago. I honestly don't know, but when I moved into my first apartment I remember being thrilled that I could fill a tub as high as it would allow and soak as long as I wanted. Ah, the freedom!

I feel absolutely at peace when I'm immersed in the tub. It is where I decompress. Some people go to the gym to relieve stress; I just turn on the hot water and soak away the tension and noise of the day. Add a glass of wine and a good book to the equation and you may not see me emerge until the water gets cold. Of course, music and candles are nice too, but the scented steam rising from the water is ample ambiance for me.

My water-loving nature means I am equally at home in the pool. When I'm there, I prefer to soak up the sun while sitting in the water rather than lying beside it on a beach chair. (Unless I'm being splashed and jumped on by children. Then I'll take the chair and wait for a quiet corner to become available.) The Neptune Park pool is definitely one of my favorite places to be in the summer. You can find me and Declan there for at least a few hours a day on most sunny weekends. To be able to sit in the shadow of the lighthouse and overlook the ocean while enjoying an afternoon with friends at the pool is casi cielo in my book!

Oddly, I have discovered I don't have the same affinity for swimming in the ocean. Perhaps it's the fact that I end up with sand everywhere imaginable. Or maybe the fact that Declan and I have actually seen a small shark dart past our ankles when we were wading in the water at the beach near the lighthouse. While I think watching the tide is very soothing, I find swimming in it is not. I must be part domesticated mermaid.

But what it boils down to is that my casi cielo is right here. I have ample opportunity for lengthy soaks in the tub with bubbles up to my nose, a readily available pool in one of the most gorgeous settings imaginable, and miles of beaches on which to walk or just sit and listen to the sound of the waves. Si, mi casa es casi cielo.

Just Some Thoughts on Wine

Tonight, I drink a toast to red wine.

"Wine is bottled poetry." Robert Louis Stevenson


Red wine is like warm silk on my tongue. It is rich and luxurious. From the deep burgundy hue in the glass to its sweet kiss on my lips, I love everything about it.

A chianti with pasta is simply divine. I don't know about the fava beans.

Add fruit to red wine to make that glorious nectar known as sangria. I call it liquid sunshine. It calls to mind cloudless skies and Spanish beaches. I hear music when I drink it.

Wine is a cure-all for all seasons. When the weather is wet, cold and dreary, there's nothing more cozy than sipping a glass of wine in front of a fire. A good book and a glass of wine make a bubble bath complete. Sharing a bottle of wine with friends while listening to music under the stars is a great way to spend a summer night.

"Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy." Benjamin Franklin

Salut! Slainte! Salud! Cheers!

A Brief Tribute to an "Iggles" Fan

Today I'm blogging through a pounding headache that was only exacerbated by a battle with a child who could not manage to complete his homework before his bedtime. Exhausting. So tonight's entry will be short.

My Uncle Bob died on this day one year ago. He was the husband of my father's oldest sister and the father of my three older cousins. He was a good man who loved his family and his small community in New Jersey. He was an avid sports fan, devoted to the "Iggles" and the Phillies. His health wasn't very good, and it seemed that my Aunt Pat was always trying to keep him from indulging in his favorite foods, because he wasn't supposed to eat them. He had a big heart and a great sense of humor. We lost him too soon.

When I moved away from the East Coast as a teen and moved on with my life as a young adult, visits with Uncle Bob, Aunt Pat, cousins Bobby, Bryan and Linda were too few. I was very lucky when unexpected winds of change swept me back to New Jersey and the loving arms of this part of my family at the same time I found out I was pregnant. While I was at home with the new baby, I was invited to join the "Tuesday breakfasts" that my father, grandfather and Uncle Bob had each week. We'd meet at a local diner and often my Aunt Pat, cousin Bobby, and other members of the family would join us. We'd have a nice breakfast together and I'd spend some time afterward with my dad or my grandfather. This tradition continued from the time I could take Declan out in a car carrier to when he could sit on his own in a booster seat at the table. Uncle Bob, Pop Pop, and Declan also share March birthdays, so we had a few joint parties for the birthday boys. Of course life stepped in again and I now call the Golden Isles my home, but I feel very blessed that I got that time to "rediscover" the family I had spent so much time apart from and to share their love with my son.

So today, I think of my Uncle Bob. And, as I told my cousin earlier, it makes me smile to know that he's looking down on all of us, watching "dem Iggles" in the playoffs and eating as much ice cream as he wants. I love you and miss you, Uncle Bob.

Smiling at the Absurdity

Sometimes you just have to laugh. Life is chock-full of ridiculousness. My morning was an example of this. Declan and I were having one of those mornings that only parents with school-aged children can understand.

I've discovered a strange occurrence: my child who normally is on hyper-warp speed, going a hundred miles a minute, cannot move quickly when I actually need him to hurry. Whether this be in the morning when trying to get to school or when we're going somewhere for an appointment, it is physically impossible to get this child to move at a pace faster than molasses! So, today we had one of those "Hurry up!" mornings and ended up arriving at school just as the late bell rang, earning our first tardy of the year.

Declan got out of the car, then leaned back in to give me a hug and kiss. As I waited for the car in front of me to move, I noticed Declan was trying to catch my eye and was looking kind of upset. "Mom, I forgot!" He pointed into the car. Nothing on the seat or floor. He had his backpack in hand. I shook my head, and said, "You have everything. You're late, go inside." He was near tears. I told him I loved him one last time and said good-bye, and drove off. I saw him walking into the building in my rearview mirror.

Less than 3 miles and 3 minutes away from the school, my cell phone rang. It was Declan, crying.

"Mom, I forgot something!"

Oh no. This must be serious! They let him use the phone in the front office to call me. I racked my brain. What could he have possibly forgotten? Backpack; check. Homework; check. Lunch; check. I had no idea.

"What did you forget, Declan?"

His voice quivered through his tears. "The gum."

What? I must not have heard him right. "What did you say?"

"The chewing gum. I forgot the gum in your car," he replied, sounding calmer.

"GUM?! You called me about gum?" I spied the offending pink plastic gum container in my cup holder. I was incredulous. My voice lowered an octave to deliver my reply: "Declan, gum is not an emergency. You did not need to use the phone at school to call me about gum."

"Well, will you bring it?" he asked tentatively.

I shook my head. Clearly my child had lost his mind. "No, Declan. I am not going to bring you gum. You don't need gum at school and you shouldn't have called me. You need to go to class, and I am going to work."

There was only silence.

"Declan?"

Still silence.

"Declan? Are you there?"

"You're yelling at me and I hate when you do that," came the sniffling response.

"I'm not yelling, but I am upset that you had the office let you call me about gum. Now go to class. I love you. Wipe away the tears. Try to be happy now and make this a good day. I'll see you tonight." I hung up the phone and just shook my head and laughed at the absurdity of what had just taken place.

Yep. Sometimes it's the sheer absurdity of life that makes me smile. I asked Declan tonight why he called me about gum. His response, "Because I wanted it." Even funnier--he actually thought that I would bring it to him. In fact, only moments ago when we were rehashing the morning's events (*and arguing about whether I can share stories about him in my "journal"), he asked me why I didn't bring him the gum. I believe my carefully worded articulate response was a snort. I love this child to death, but c'mon, really now, what is he thinking?!

Well it was gum, after all. And as Jimmy Buffett says,"Yeah, you chew a little Juicy Fruit. It's good for ya soul."