Still the Bitch

Seven years ago, my mom died in January from complications of diseases caused by smoking. The last few years of her life she couldn't walk very far, needed oxygen, couldn't drive, had a stroke that finally paralyzed her and caused her to not know me. It was awful!

In January 2013, I told my husband he needed to quit smoking. I explained that I had had enough. I was tired of the lies, tired of the sneaking around and seriously tired of the phlegmy cough he had had for months. He needed to quit!

He said he had a plan, and if I would just leave him alone, he will quit smoking in 2013. He had a date in his mind and he did not want to talk to me about it. OK, I thought, I can live with this.

March rolled around. He had not quit smoking. I again brought it up. Look, I said, you told me you have a plan. I have seen no change in behavior, your phlegm is getting worse, you need to quit.

Again, I have a plan...yadda, yadda yadda.

Then he has a HUGE blood clot behind his knee. This blood clot could potentially kill him. Everyone on the face of the earth knows that smoking is a leading cause of potentially deadly blood clots -- well except smokers....

I was informed that he was scared. I believed that being that scared you might die might somewhere in the back of your brain make you think quitting would be a good option. I was wrong. Didn't even stop the smoking while there was still a clot.

Months later I have another conversation: You need to quit. Response: I have a plan.You get the picture. At one point he had even recruited a friend to join him in quitting.

So now we are an entire year after that first conversation. A full year after I was told to get off his back, he had a plan. Months after a potentially deadly blood clot... and he is still smoking. Yesterday I asked if he quit smoking, and he said no.

Right now I am extremely angry! All of these negative thoughts about every smoker I know are running through my head.
Look at how arrogant they are!
1) If there is just one smoker in a room, everyone in the room must suffer.
2) If you are playing darts or cards, and a smoker needs to have a cigarette, everyone else's fun must come to a complete a total stop while they go outside for a cigarette. And if they go outside in a group, forget them ever coming back in a timely manner.
3) They just assume the rest of us will take care of them when they can't walk, can't breath or even after having a couple strokes.

So, what do I do? Wait around for this grand plan that will never happen? Do I wait for the next blood clot that kills him, or leaves him paralyzed? Do I stick around and watch this? Or not...

Candy Crush is Ruining My Life

The characters in Candy Crush look innocent, don't they?

"My name is Cindi, and I'm addicted to Candy Crush."

Then you all reply, "Hi, Cindi!"

It might seem extreme, but I'm pretty sure I am a Candy Crush addict. Here is my evidence:

• Over the last few months, there has been no quality content added to my blogs, podcast or Facebook pages.
• I have been looking for a new job, but have sent out only one resume.
• I am trying to write two different books, but have generated no content.
• I'm not getting enough sleep because I lay in bed playing the game.
• I don't walk over my lunch hour because I play the game.

I have friends who are just as affected because that is the point of the game—get your friends on Facebook to play with you. We help each other by sending lives and extra moves. But here is the worst part—you NEED your friends to move on to the next world. You get on a roll, you are having fun beating level after level, when all of the sudden you cannot play anymore unless a friend responds to your plea to unlock the next world. So, of course you invite more friends to play so you have more friends who will help you.

The game is sneaky, too. I found out early that the more I play, the harder each level is. If I got frustrated and just stopped playing for a few days, I would suddenly be able to beat a difficult level with my first try! And if you accumulate some free extras, like sprinkles or fish, and use them, the level will be so difficult you won't be able to win. It even encourages you to have the game on several devices—your computer, your phone, your tablet—so you can keep playing.

If you get too frustrated, there is a solution—you can BUY extras, like sprinkles, fish or more moves. You can make this purchase before you start a level or in the middle if you know you are not going to beat it. (I read that the creators of this free game are making millions from people who buy these extras just to beat a level.)

I try not to be a conspiracy theorist, but the whole thing reminds me of a Star Trek Next Generation episode called The Game. Riker brings a video game to the Enterprise from a planet he visits and gets everyone addicted to it except Wesley and Data. Welsey is hunted down and forced to play while Data's power is turned off. Even super cool Picard gets addicted! After Data eventually saves everyone, the crew learns the purpose of the game: It made them susceptible to the power of suggestion, compelling them to aid the games' creators—the Ktarians—in an attempt to take control of the Enterprise (and eventually the Federation.)

Sound familiar?

So, just for today—one day at a time—I will not play Candy Crush. I will try to get my life back and maybe I will even save the world.

I am the Bitch

The other day my husband snuck off to have a cigarette with a friend and I said, "I'll nag you about this later." The friend said, "Get off his back!"

I was stunned the friend would say something like that to me. Here is someone I like -- and he was judging me for not wanting my husband to smoke!

As I thought about it over the next few days, I realized that I am the Bitch.

My husband doesn't go to the "smoking lounge" at the local pub with his friends when I'm with him, and everyone knows it's because of me. I am the Bitch preventing him from being social. He doesn't smoke in our house and sneaks out to the garage, because I am the Bitch. At the recent dart tournament, he didn't go out to hang out with his friends to smoke because I am the Bitch.

He has quit smoking several times, and I even bragged how proud I was of him only to find out he had been sneaking cigarettes behind my back and everyone knew but me, because I am the Bitch.

Let's set the record straight about this Bitch:

• Before we even talked about getting married, I made it very clear I would NEVER be married to a smoker. He had quit smoking before we were engaged.
• When he first started smoking again, AFTER we were married, it was because of a major stress in our lives and he assured me it would be temporary. It wasn't.
• He said he would quit when our daughter was born. He didn't. I had to make him not smoke in the car with her or in the same room with her!
• My mom started smoking when she was 16. Before she died, she had COPD and emphysema, and could barely walk. She needed oxygen and had had several small strokes. It was horrible watching her suffer. It was horrible watching her continue smoking. She had a severe stroke that did not kill her, but paralyzed her, and she had to be in a nursing home. It was horrible! I do NOT want that in my life!
• My grandparents all died of smoking related illnesses. I do not want that in my life.

Over the years he did quit a couple of different times, but it never took. He even quit for his 40th birthday, which was the last time I saw him with a cigarette in his hand. I think that lasted a month.

Fast forward to now.
This year he had a blood clot behind his knee that could have killed him if it had gotten loose. He said it scared him to death! Yet, it did not scare him enough to remove one of the causes of blood clots. (All of our "smoking" friends defend him. Smoking isn't the only cause of blood clots, they say.)

He is getting the phlegmmy cough in the morning, the one people with bad lungs end up with. 

I do NOT want to be pushing him around in a wheelchair because he can't walk 10 feet. I don't want to have to worry about his oxygen tanks. I don't want to worry about strokes or cancer or emphysema...

All I want is for my husband to have a long and healthy life -- with me!

And if that makes me a Bitch -- well, I'm proud to be that Bitch. 

My Grey's Journey?

When did everything a person does in life suddenly become a "journey".

Let me clarify, there are many things in life that can be considered a journey. People who successfully handle trials and tribulations can rightfully talk about their journey. People who have accomplished something that took a lot of time and effort, had ups and downs, was difficult ... I think they can all that a journey.

But "journey" has become so overused, I'm tired of it.

Recently I was trying out a new podcast to see if I will listen to it. It happened to be about the TV show Grey's Anatomy.

One of the hosts said to the other: Discuss your Grey's journey.

Really?

Watching a TV show is not a life journey. It is not any other kind of journey. Watching a TV show is watching a TV show!

Needless to say, I stopped listening to the podcast and will not go back.

Don't even get me started on the use of "toppings"!



(For the record, toppings go on pizza and ice cream sundaes ... not coffee drinks!)

The Big Picture

We all have things we need to do in the short term that we do not want to do. It is often very hard to get past the minutia of the minute, the irritation of the day, the pain of what happens in any one particular week.

But sometimes, you have to step back and take a look at the big picture. Why am I here? What is my goal? What am I trying to accomplish by doing this? Where do I want to be in an hour, week, month, year?

Today was one of those days when i had to be reminded about the big picture.

Today is Mother's Day. And my kids who all work in food service had the day off to spend with me! Unfortunately, the part-time job I recently picked up scheduled me to work from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m.

Earlier this month my manager indicated that staff could not request off for holidays. I've worked in restaurants and in retail before -- I assumed that, like all of those jobs, Mother's Day was a holiday I could not ask off. I didn't find out until Thursday that I was scheduled to work today.

I was OK with it until I realized that I could have asked for it off! Seriously? The only woman in this department with children, and you scheduled ME to work Mother's Day?

Then I was pissed -- ROYALLY pissed! I am too old to be treated this way for a crappy part-time job!

After I calmed down, I took a step back and had a look at the big picture. I am at the part-time job for a reason. I have a plan that will take about a year to fulfill. 99% of the people I work with are very nice. Even the customers are mostly very nice. So, this one time, I have to work Mother's Day. I can live with it. I can get past this. And I can guarantee it will never happen again.

No, I don't "need" this particular job. But if I look at the big picture -- I WANT this job and it will get me where I need to be next year.

One thing I did learn is, it is not good to assume anything. Immediately after discovering that I was scheduled today, I asked off for every single day I wanted off through the month of July.

Anniversaries

We all have those happy anniversary dates we cannot forget: first dates, first day at a new job, weddings, birthdays...

But we also have the sad dates we cannot forget, like the day a divorce is final, 9/11, or the day your parents died.

I bring this up because my in-laws died tragically in May more than 20 years ago. (If you have read this blog before, you know how they died, and I don't really want to get into that right now.)

For a very long time, the entire month of May would be difficult for my husband. Then for years, the week of the anniversary would be hard for him. Finally, just the day of their deaths was the hard day.

Most of the time he does a great job of not dwelling! People who do not know us would never guess that that day can be difficult.

But then some years we have the double whammy -- the anniversary of their deaths falls on Mother's Day.  This year -- today -- is the 25th anniversary.

A couple of days ago, I asked my husband if it would be hard for him, and he said no. We have great kids -- we count four now, even though only two are "officially" ours. And the kids do a great job of spoiling us both, so there really is no time to think about anything sad.

Still 25 years ago today, our lives changed in such a dramatic way! Sometimes I cannot believe that it has been 25 years already! And on other days, it feels as if it was an eternity ago -- it feels as if it happened to different people.

So, on this day when I am going to be spoiled rotten, I want to take a moment to remember the two best in-laws that ever were. If I could have planned a mother-in-law and father-in-law, it would have been you.

Mom and Grumpy -- we still miss you and think about you! Thank you for having been such a positive influence on me, even if it was for only four years!

Natural Consequences

Sometimes dumb decisions have consequences. I made a rather foolish decision Saturday night and I'm still paying for it this morning.

Because of this silly decision, I missed 6 hours at my new part-time job yesterday and a full day at my day job today. Ugh!

Here's what I did.

Saturday evening my husband and I were meeting a couple of friends out. Though hungry, I didn't want to take the time to cook anything -- I ate half of a big, blue cheese hamburger I saved from my lunch Friday. It tasted great!

What I had forgotten was, after Friday's lunch the burger sat on my desk unrefrigerated all afternoon. When I got home that evening, the burger sat on the counter for another couple of hours. Eventually, I put it in the refrigerator. Then I ate it Saturday night.

I woke up early Sunday morning -- not feeling right, but not feeling sick. I took a couple of Advil and went back to bed. An hour later I was so uncomfortable in the bed, I went downstairs to lay on the couch. I still did not feel right, and a screaming headache was building. A shower, more napping, laying around, more Advil. I felt worse and worse as the day went on and I finally started to throw up around noon.

At that point I finally called the part-time job and said I was too sick to come in. Unfortunately, I needed to call in earlier than 2 hours before my start time -- I called only 1 hr and 45 min before. I can't believe how bad I feel about that.

I expected to feel better today, and I did -- a little. But the screaming headache would not let up. I could not imagine driving with my head hurting like this! There is no way I would be able to concentrate on anything at the office.

So, one stupid decision has caused me two days of feeling crappy and about 13 of work I should be doing. I hope I've learned my lesson.

Living What They Preach

So, I have spent about 10 hours in training for my new part-time retail job. Some of it was in person, some via video and yesterday quite a bit online. Throughout the training, everyone has emphasized customer service, helpfulness and basically being kind.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. The cynical me was thinking, what company does NOT say it emphasizes customer service? And in reality, how many stores have I been in where I felt customer service was important?

While setting up a computer for my training, the manager on duty had to take a call from a customer. His tone was friendly, professional and more than that, it was kind. I could tell the customer was happy at the end of the call.

Later, I left the computer looking for a staffer to ask a question. The first person I encountered did not know me from Adam (Eve?). I asked my question expecting him to think I am an idiot. He listened to everything I said, then spent a good 3 minutes giving me a very thorough answer.

While sitting at the computer, several other staff members stopped by to say Hi and ask how my training was going.

As the store closed and I was leaving, the employees on the floor took the time to say goodbye and asked when I would be back.

Needless to say, I was stunned. Every single person I encountered who works for this company was friendly! They all seemed to care how I was doing!

I know there are a lot of people who would read this and say, "What's the big deal?" Let's just say that since graduating from college in the early 1980s, I have never had a job in my professional career where employees treated each other so well. Don't get me wrong -- I have had the group of friendly co-workers and that one amazing boss. But I have never experienced a company culture like this -- a company culture that says "let's all be nice", and the employees actually are nice!

Though training is rarely fun, I went home last night feeling pretty good. If I have to work a second job for a little while, I am so lucky to be working at a company like this! Though I had expected to have to learn to do this job, I didn't expect I would be learning something so basic that I should have been doing for years.

Not One of the Cool Kids

I'll just come out and say it. I am not where I want to be professionally and I am not as successful as I thought I would be at my age.

A few years back I took a business risk. My plan was that I would quit my day job and run this business until I sold it years from now, making millions. It didn't happen that way.

In the meantime, the economy has been getting progressively worse, I'm getting older, and finding the type of job I want is pretty tough right now.

This is all to explain why earlier this week I was sitting in a small conference room with seven other people (who were all under the age of 24) watching a two-hour employment orientation video for a retail outlet. Yes, I took a part-time job at a retail chain.

The initial interview process was great! The managers are wonderful! Many of the part-time staff are my age and pretty much in the same boat -- I feel very comfortable with my decision to work there. But in this small conference room, I was more than twice the age of everyone else. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb is an understatement.

The orientation process was fine until the manager started the training DVD and left the room. Though pretty well done as far as training videos go (I know it isn't a video, but what do I call it?), but it was horribly long and parts were a little cheesy. It was grueling to sit there for so long.

The "children" were restless and started talking about all kinds of stuff that had nothing to do with the video. They got pretty loud and silly. I felt old. I didn't want to participate in the inane conversation, but I didn't like being the geek among the cool kids. I just wanted to watch the video and move on.

At one point the youngest woman suggested we fast forward through parts. Someone handed her the remote and she tried the buttons. "Don't do that," I said. "If they want us to watch this, we should watch it." Just put the goody two shoes label on me now!

She kept playing with the buttons and I had to say something again. Finally, the guy who handed her the remote admitted that there were no batteries in it and he knew it wouldn't work. OK, so I wasn't the only one who knew we had to do it even if it was unpleasant -- but I was still the only one geeky enough to tell her to stop.

In the majority of situations, I am comfortable with my age. I'm OK around my teenaged son's friends and I'm comfortable around people much older than I am. In most social situations, I am not alone with large groups of twenty-somethings. And if I am in a group too young for me, usually I can leave.

It's totally different being with this group -- who will be my co-workers, my peers.

The good news is orientation is over. The better news is that I will not be working in the same department with any of these people.

After a year of freelancing and extreme budgeting that just has not worked, I am ready for this move. I have a plan to take care of a few things and this is the first step. It is not where I want to be, but I think it is where I am supposed to be -- at least for now.

Be the One

About two weeks ago, I got my hair cut. It wasn't anything complicated or unusual, it was just my usual hair guy and pretty much the same haircut and color I get every time I see him. Most women know that even if you tell your hair person to give you the same cut and color every month, you always end up with something just a little bit different.

I have no idea what he did different this time, but people have noticed. I have had more compliments on my hair in the last two weeks than I have all year! People who don't know me, but have to look at my driver's license, comment on my hair. The receptionist at my dentist's office said I look younger. People who have known me for years have said the color is great.

I'm not a froo-froo person and know nearly nothing about hair and makeup. If I am getting compliments, it is not because of anything I am doing. I was thrilled at the reaction!

Friday morning I decided to leave a message for him. "Hey, just want to let you know, I'm getting a lot of compliments on my hair. People love the cut and the color and they say I look younger. Whatever you did, remember it because you need to do it again."

A couple of hours later I got a call from him. He sounded a little bit down. "I just want you to know you made my day," he said in a low-key voice. "I've been having a rough week, and I really needed to hear some good news. Thank you."

Though I knew he would appreciate hearing I like my hair, the main reason for my phone call was somewhat selfish -- I wanted him to remember what he did so he could do it again. I never anticipated it would make that big of an impact on him.

In my PR classes in college we learned that for every compliment received on an event or project, there are 10 other people who are just as happy, but have chosen to say nothing. At the same time, most unhappy people will tell you exactly how unhappy they are. I hate to admit I am just like everyone else -- I complain immediately, but rarely give compliments.

After Friday, I will try harder to be that one happy person.
___________

NOTE: I am not including a photo of my hair. I'm not wearing make up, I didn't put in my contacts, and it never looks as good in a photo as it does in person. Use your imagination -- it looks great!

Lessons from Diana Nyad

Last year I was obsessed with Diana Nyad's attempt to swim from Cuba to Florida. At over 60 years old, she had not swum in more than 30 years after setting several long-distance swimming records! (If you are unaware of her swimming accomplishments, you need to look her up!)

About this time, I read an interview with Diana. I can't remember where the article came from, but it was very unflattering. It portrayed Diana as a mentally weak, incompetent person who could not do the simplest things to take care of herself.

I was so disappointed! I remembered when she accomplished some of her swimming feats in the 1970s and when I heard about her planned swim from Cuba to Florida I was excited! Here was an athlete in her 60s trying a swim that had never been completed without a shark cage. How was it possible that she could be such a weak person in real life?


This week I discovered that Diana Nyad was a featured speaker on the TED Talks podcast and wondered if she would end up being kooky or seem incompetent.

Her speech focused on her unsuccessful swim attempt from Cuba to Florida last year. She said that the reason for the swim was so she could say she lived her life without regrets. She talked about the preparation and dedication needed and how she handled her 24-hour training swims. I was especially impressed with the many things she had planned to think about when she reached specific milestones. 

Take a minute to understand this. She planned out the specific things she would "think" about during her entire swim, and knew that she would think about Stephen Hawking during the 60th hour. (When I'm training for long-distance walking events, I don't plan to think about anything, and my longest walks were only 5 hours.)

Then came the details about the actual swim attempt. After several hours in the water she was stung by box jelly fish. The pain was excruciating and her medical team did their best to help her recover enough to continue swimming. During this treatment, she stayed in the water. Then, while still in pain, she continued swimming for several more hours even though it was difficult. The next day she was stung again. At that point, she had to be pulled from the water for more intensive medical treatment. Though she went back in the water and was able to continue to swim over night, the stings took their toll and eventually she had to stop. 

She says that she is glad she lived those two years of her life preparing for that swim. When you live each day with that much passion, there is no time to have regrets. And now she wants to live every day for the rest of her life that way. She points out that sometimes you have to accept defeat and you can accept it with grace. But, the ocean is still there and her hope to successfully complete the swim is still alive in her. "I can swim from Cuba to Florida, and I WILL swim from Cuba to Florida," she said.

That is the only swim she is interested in and she is ready.

So, what did I learn from Diana?

It is OK to fail.

Just because your last success was more than 30 years ago does not mean you should not try.

Live every day with passion.

Shoot for what may seem to be impossible.

And, don't believe everything you read.

Weird Coincidence

About a week ago I found a photograph of a beautiful woman running on a beach. She is wearing a bikini and looks strong and healthy, with lots of muscle. She also has prosthetic legs.

It's a great photo! It inspires me in so many different ways. If this woman without legs can be that healthy and strong, what excuse do I have? I also thought my problems seem insignificant compared to not having legs.

Today I was listening to a podcast called The Moth. This podcast features people telling true stories from their own lives in front of live audiences. Many of them are funny, but most of them are intended to make the audience think. Many of the stories that air on this podcast are winners in storytelling competitions.

The story I heard today was told by a woman named Aimee Mullins -- who happened to be a double amputee with no legs. She told stories about growing up with artificial legs, trying to swim, trying to run, wearing dresses... She eventually ended up helping design prosthetic legs, setting running records at the paralympics and became a model.

The story was amazing and she was an amazing storyteller. She was so interesting, I did a Google search on her. And there I found a photograph of a beautiful woman running on a beach with prosthetic legs. http://studiothirstycrow.wordpress.com/2011/07/22/amazing-people-aimee-mullins/

What are the chances?

Mysterious Ways!

Lots of people say that the universe works in mysterious ways. Here is one part of my life where it did for me and my family. (Warning -- this is VERY long!)

Before my husband and I got married, we talked about children. We had agreed that we would have two or three biological children, then we would consider adopting more. Though I knew it was a good idea, and I believed in adoption, I was a little nervous about the idea.

A few years after we were married, we had our wonderful daughter. When she was two years old, we became foster parents. The first child was only 3 and had had a rough life. After a short period of time he went back home. Though I was not confident it was the best decision for him, he and I did not bond and I was relieved when he left. I was a little worried about fostering any more kids because we didn't bond.

Our second foster child, Sam, was 11 years old. He was a great kid! His family had a once-in-a-lifetime situation that they fixed. He fit right into our family. We loved Sam, our daughter loved him, my parents loved him, our siblings loved him. After a few short months, he went back home. I did not realize how much I could love a child who was not "ours" until we had Sam. If Sam had been available for adoption, we would have kept him.

For a variety of reasons I don't want to get into, and unrelated to Sam, we stopped being foster parents after he went home.

Over the next year or so we tried to get pregnant again. Nothing we did worked and I felt like a failure. As the months of treatments went on, I felt that God was punishing me. What on Earth did I do that was so horrible that God would punish me this way? Were we such horrible parents that he would not want us to have more kids? It was devastating. We talked about stopping the expensive treatments, but I kept wanting to try -- one more time.

One day in early December I had an epiphany. We had talked about adopting when we were finished having biological children. Why was I continuing to torture myself this way -- we could just speed up our adoption plan without having more biological children.

I called my mom to tell her and she was thrilled! It broke her heart seeing me suffer for so long. After many discussions and phone calls and seeking advice on adoptions, we decided to adopt from Mexico.

Though it took a year, things fell in place in an oddly smooth way. To me it felt purposeful. I was beginning to believe that God wanted us to go to Mexico -- that there was a child there he wanted us to meet.

With everything in order, we finally arranged to go to Mexico in early February. Everyone asked if we wanted a boy or a girl. It actually confused them when we said it didn't matter. Though neither of us really had a preference, we didn't want to eliminate half of the available children based on sex. I was nervous and prayed a lot, asking God to help us to recognize the child he wanted us to meet. My only criteria was I did not want an infant. Our daughter was already 7 years old, plus, to be honest, I'm not a big fan of infants. (Long story.) So we were thinking between 3 and 6 years old.

We jumped through a bunch of legal hoops and finally, after being approved, we sat in front of the desk of the social worker and said, "We are ready to meet children." There were just a couple of days left before we had to return home.

Ms. Jimenez had a folder sitting on her desk. She picked it up and said, "This is Juan. He just became available. I know he is younger than what you were thinking, but you can look at his file while I locate the folders of other children for you to meet."

Juan was only 15 months old and adorable. He was younger than what we wanted and we knew he would be adopted quickly, but we still agreed to meet him. Ms. Jimenez also picked a couple of pairs of sisters for us to meet.

I'll shorten this here. We missed our appointment to meet Juan because of confusion about where he was living, so we had to reschedule for our last day in Mexico, a few hours before we were to fly out. In the meantime, we met the sets of sisters, and a bunch of other kids. It was rough, no one seemed right, and on that last day, we were discouraged and convinced that we would have to come back in a few months to meet more children.

The staff at the orphanage where Juan lived did not want Juan to get individual attention, think we were his parents, then have us leave and never come back. We were told we had only 30 20 minutes. They took us to the cottage where he lived and we walked into a playroom full of about a dozen children from a year to maybe 3 4 years old. We immediately sat on the floor and started playing with the kids. Several climbed on us, others wanted to show us their favorite toys, and we were an instant hit with every kid in the room -- except Juan. Juan pretended to ignore us, looking at us out of the corner of his eye to see if we were watching. He did some amazingly cute things, but would not go near us.

After a while, the teacher started bringing Juan to us to sit in our laps or to play with us, but he would jump up and run away. Ninety minutes later we were still there and reluctantly had to leave or we would miss our flight home. (Obviously, the teachers liked us or they wouldn't have let us stay so long.) We had a great time playing with all of the kids, but Juan was amazing.

In the cab, my husband was glowing. After a stressful and discouraging week, he was happy! "You want Juan, don't you." He turned to me and said, "I didn't know I wanted a boy until now." When the cab stopped, we went to a pay phone to call our attorney.

Here is where the universe is mysterious:
1) At first, I wasn't sure if I could love a child who was not biologically related to me. Because of Sam, I knew it would be OK.
2) We had planned to adopt from a specific city to make things more cost effective. We met a family who lived near us who had adopted from that city, and their attorney agreed to represent us.
3) Juan was born (we think) the week I decided to stop fertility treatments and look into adoption.
4) I didn't want an infant. Juan was 15 months old when we met him and 27 months old when we brought him home.
5) Juan was just available for adoption about the week we arrived to meet children, and his file was sitting on the social worker's desk.

Other mysterious universe moments:
1) When our daughter was in high school, one of her friends ended up in foster care. Because we had been foster parents years earlier, it didn't take a lot of work to get re-licensed. Her friend lived with us for 18 months.
2) It's been about 6 years since the friend moved out. We had the honor of visiting her at college for parents' day!
3) We are lucky enough to see this friend, our "other" daughter, often!
4) Before we were married, we had wanted three or four kids. And even though I could not get pregnant again, we still ended up with three great kids!

Do It Anyway

I tend to suffer from seasonal depression. To combat the effects, I exercise, go outside as much as possible and try to maintain a positive attitude.

Recently, I found a podcast that discusses mental health issues -- mostly depression -- and how famous people deal with it. At the end of his interview, Adam Carolla recommends acting as if you are not depressed as a way to help get through depression. He said something like this:

If you don't feel like getting out of bed, get out of bed anyway. If you go for a run and feel like quitting, run 1 mile farther. If you don't want to shower, take a shower anyway.

His point was, while you are trying to work through depression, it helps to act the part. When you act as if you are feeling some way (happy, sad, brave, scared), you eventually will start to feel some of it.

So, my goal when the seasonal depression really strikes hard once winter in Ohio turns cold and gray, is to act as if I'm happy and see if it makes a difference. In the meantime, I'm just enjoying that the days are getting longer and that I did get to see sunshine today.

Appropriate Quote

Today I received an email with this quote:

Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance. Great dancers are not great because of their technique, they are great because of their passion.

 The author of the quote will be revealed later this week.

Though I would LOVE to believe that this is true, Elaine Benis was a passionate dancer and everyone laughed. (Sometimes I am Elaine!)

Cinderella?

Somewhere in my neighborhood is a girl with just one shoe.

Feeling a Mother's Love

Several years ago, I was going through a rough time. I was feeling depressed and alone -- it felt as if there was nothing I could do that would make a difference and there was no end in sight.

One day during this dark time, I was sitting in a quiet room (I might have been editing, I don't remember) and deep within me, I felt as if someone was praying for me. I stopped what I was doing and tried to figure out what the feeling really was. As I tried to pin it down, I realized it was physical and both a good feeling and a feeling of calmness. I was hopeful that things could get better.

Later that day I decided it was just my imagination -- no one can feel that he/she is being prayed for, right?

As the week went on, I had the feeling several more times. I talked to my husband about it and he seemed to find it interesting, but put no credence in it.

After a few days I had to know -- who is praying for me? I thought about everyone I know, everyone who loves me and who could possibly pray hard enough I would feel it.

The phone call went like this:

"Hi, Mom. How are you?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Pretty good. I have a question that you might find weird. Are you praying for me?" There was complete silence on the other end of the line, so I repeated the question. "Mom, are you praying for me?"

After another pause she said, "Why do you ask?"

"I feel like someone is praying for me. I thought about everyone I know, and you are the only person I could think of who could pray hard enough that I would feel it."

She was quiet and I could tell she was thinking. "Yeah, it's me. I was so worried about you and I just wanted things to get better."

Whatever my mom said in those prayers, it helped. Things did get better.

So, as I am missing my mom already this pre-holiday season, I think about that one dark week, and how my mom loved me so much, I could FEEL her prayers. I'm feeling pretty lucky to have had her in my life!

I hope my kids are never in a situation where they feel depressed and alone, but if it does happen, I hope they too will feel my constant prayers that they will be able to get through it and will be OK.

Motivating People -- One Step at a Time!

Sometimes, I just want to stay in bed all day with the covers over my head -- hiding from everything. I don't know what inspires me to actually get out of bed -- well besides the need for a pay check -- but somehow I do it.

I have a lot of stress in my life. Sometimes I think it is chronic because I don't necessarily cause the stress -- it seems to seek me out. Many of my stresses are temporary -- they just seem overwhelming at times and I feel as if I just can't handle them.

Then I read about someone inspiring, such as Karen Stewart, and I realize I am a wimp and need to put my petty little stresses into perspective.

You see, Karen has recurring relapsing MS. There are times when her brain and hands don't communicate all that well. She may want to pick up a pencil, she may even tell her hand to pick up that pencil, but it doesn't always work. There are days when she just cannot pick up even a pencil.

In a story that I found about Karen online, it says she has spent plenty of time in wheelchairs, with walkers and with canes and then one day decided to "embrace" her disease and make it her "friend." She was going to find a way to use her illness to make herself stronger.

She started walking a little bit at a time until she finally was inspired to walk a marathon. After finishing her first marathon, she was motivated to keep going, and going and going... Here is a quote from the news story about her that I loved: "Not everybody is motivated to do marathons, but everybody can do something. ... you never know if today my story will inspire someone else to get off their duff and do something."

This month Karen finished her 47th marathon in Savannah, GA! She hopes to complete her 50th in February 2012! (Shoot -- I've done only two full marathons.)

I find Karen to be extremely motivating! Here is a woman who has been stuck in a wheelchair and she was still able to walk 47 marathons! Wow! If she can deal with a horrible disease like MS, what can't she do? If she can do all of this, what excuse do I have not to try to overcome my burdens -- or even more importantly -- what excuse do I have not to at least try to face mine. (Yes, getting out of bed tomorrow will be easier for me.)

This is all of the information I was able to get from this interview by WSAV-TV (http://www2.wsav.com/news/2011/nov/03/one-step-time-ar-2651781/). There are so many questions I have that this story didn't answer.

I have never met Karen, but I can tell you right now I will. If not in person, I'm going to talk to her by phone. My goal is to interview her and include her story in a book I'm currently working on. If any of you have questions you want me to ask her, leave a comment.

Views on the Media and a Major Crime

Baby Lisa Irwin has been missing for quite a while. (If you don't know the story, Google it.) The parents were helping the police at first but are not any more. They are under suspicion and under attack in the media. I have opinions on all of this and feel the need to share a different perspective.

1. Do not believe everything the police say in public. How the police work on TV shows is not necessarily how they work in real life.
2. The police can make mistakes. The person they "hint" committed the crime may not be the real criminal.
3. Just because family members have stopped working with the police or refuse to take polygraphs does not indicate they are guilty, no matter what the public message might be.

Here is the story behind my attitude:

A couple in a major US city was murdered in their home. The police were stumped with very few real leads or clues. Because the couple was well respected and loved with no known enemies, the adult children were considered suspects, even though none of them lived in the same town.

Knowing that family members are always suspects and wanting to be eliminated as quickly as possible, the adult children all agreed to take polygraphs. The results were "inconclusive," according to the police. Even though none of the kids was in town at the time of the deaths, they were kept as the prime suspects.

No matter what the adult children did, the police were convinced that they were involved. The police tried unsuccessfully to get the kids to turn on each other. They SUCCESSFULLY got other relatives -- aunts and uncles -- to believe that the kids were involved. The kids as a group agreed they would no longer cooperate with the police -- no more polygraphs, no more interrogations, nothing. The relatives would say if they were innocent why weren't they cooperating with the police? A major rift was caused in the family and for about 10 years the kids were the only suspects.

Does this series of events sound familiar? How many times have you heard in the news that family members of a victim have stopped cooperating with the police? How many times have you heard that polygraph results were "inconclusive"? How many times did you automatically assume the family members were guilty? (If they were innocent, they wouldn't refuse to help, would they?)

Let's leap ahead 10 years.

A serial sexual criminal broke his parole and was being sent back to jail. He said he would tell the police who committed the unrelated 10-year-old murder if it would keep him out of jail. He gives up his brother as the murderer, who at that time was living in a different state. The police in this other state bring in the suspect and the suspect admits he killed the couple.

The murderer is convicted and sentenced to death. He is currently sitting on Death Row.

Did the police apologize to the children? Did the police apologize to the aunts and uncles? Did the other relatives ever admit they were wrong? Did the police admit they lied about the polygraphs? Did anyone ever say, "Oops"?

The answer is a resounding NO!

Some relatives still feel it would have been solved quicker if the kids had continued to cooperate -- even though the police had absolutely no other suspects, were not looking for anyone and had lied to everyone.

So, when I see a family that has experienced a tragedy -- such as having their daughter kidnapped from their home -- that is no longer cooperating with the police, I immediately feel a great deal of sympathy for them. I wonder if they are being subjected to the same police games. I know there is a chance they are completely innocent and the police are making a tragedy even worse.

There are plenty of cases, such as Susan Smith, where the supposed victim was guilty of the crime that made national news. But, there are just as many situations where the police abuse a family, lie to a family and have tunnel vision so severely they cannot see the truth. And the fact the family was victimized twice is rarely a front-page story.

A Nice Encounter in the Dallas Airport

While between flights, I was standing in front of the map of the Dallas airport and having trouble deciding where to eat. I was surprised when a nice-looking older gentleman with beautiful silver hair and wearing a green vest asked if I was lost. I explained that I wasn’t, I just couldn’t figure out where to eat. He then proceeded to explain to me what my restaurant options were.

As I looked around, I noticed there was a small information podium (it was way too small to be a desk), across from the map. “You are the first person who has ever stopped me in an airport and offered assistance like this,” I said.

He explained that he was a volunteer. “I used to work for a couple different airlines, but I retired,” he said. “I knew I needed something to do to keep my mind active, and I know this airport very well, so I volunteer here.” He said he also encouraged his grandson, age 15, to volunteer. Similar to most high schools I know of, his grandson's school requires a certain number of volunteer hours for graduation.

“It’s important for teens to learn the value of volunteering,” he said. In the program at this airport, teens make a commitment to work at least two days a month, not a lot for even the busiest young adult. “It’s also important for teens to learn how to talk to people. He definitely gets that opportunity here.”

He gave me good advice on where to eat AND made me smile.

It's not often that a random encounter with a stranger can have a positive impact. The friendliness of this gentleman, his attitude on life and the pride he has in his grandson made my day. Unfortunately, I didn't get his name or I would recommend that everyone who flies through the Dallas/Fort Worth airport look for him.

In the meantime, I hope he knows that dining advice was not the most important thing I gained from him that day.

________

I wanted to include more information about how this proud grandfather bragged about his grandson. Unfortunately, I just couldn't make it work. It's still not worded quite right to convey the picture in my head, but here it is.

The grandson also volunteers in Concourse A. Recently he told his grandfather he knows everything there is to know about terminal A -- he knows every restaurant and he knows every inch. He said it was time to move on to terminal B. “You know how young people are now,” said the grandfather. “They learn everything so fast.”