I have enjoyed the blogging world so much that I thought I would share a list of some of my favorite tidbits from YOUR blogs (these are in no particular order except for the last one). Keep in mind, these are only from around the time I started blogging through the present:
I, along with much of the world, am not impressed by the simple fact that you have children. Making babies is an exceedingly normal, even cliché thing to do that, like knitting, does not make you interesting.
Mickey (in search of interesting blogs)
And yet he is. My biggest influence is a wooly mammoth with very long eyelashes.
Courtney (on Snuffleupagus being her influence)
I'm going to win the lottery tomorrow. I'm sure God told me this while I was sitting in the dark with my door closed hoping that no one would come make me cover a class during my precious planning period.
Jacob (the sad thing is, so many people really think this way)
What I’m attempting to establish here, beyond the shadow of a whisker of a doubt, is not that she’s simply an idiot, but rather the true bottomless depths of her ignorance.
Mickey (on his coworker, btw, "shadow of a whisker of a doubt"? That's a new one!)
Still, I'm perfectly aware that my regular spouting of trivia and lack of fear for an intelligent discussion of differing views could easily be mistaken for nerd bragging.
Jacob (on whether he’s a know-it-all)
This is really groundbreaking shit, theologically speaking.
Chris (nothing like the word “shit” being thrown into a sentence with a word that means the study of God)
What's really fun is when he comes home in the middle of me doing one of these things, and then there's a lot of long, silent, judgmental staring.
Courtney (on Mickey walking in on her dancing around the apartment)
"You know, they've done research to show that three-quarters of all women have some kind of that schizophrenia PMS stuff."
Chris (on mental illness - not actually Chris’ quote but we appreciate him sharing it with us)
Dear Apartment, let’s get right to the point: I hate you.
Courtney (I just love the direct point here)
Now that I’ve had a few minutes to reflect on it, though, I realize that, quite obviously, Meaghan is The Man and she’s once again conspiring in her subtle way to keep us all down.
Mickey (on me contemplating being average - I'm not sure how I feel about being called a man...)
I told the young man at the counter that I would like to have a to-go order. He then proceeded to ask me if I was eating in or taking out. Huh?
I looked at him and repeated. I would like a to-go order. And then he asked, Did you already order? I decided I had not made myself crystal clear. I stated in a strong voice, I would like to order some food to take home with me. He stared. He didn't say anything.
So, I gave him my order. He then asked, Will that be for here or to go?
What the...?
Nicole (on ordering at Taco Bell - we’ve all been through it, but Nicole details it to a T)
To be honest, I don't think eating a bread-and-butter breakfast is the secret of all these magenta-haired 60 year olds in leather pants I see walking around.
Kari (on the use of butter in France)
Anyway, so we were discussing gun control in general, with all of us giving anecdotes or experiences, when I said, "but Ryan, even if there was a REMOTE possibility that someone tried to break into your home, I could at the most see myself purchasing a tazer. But I'd even say a small handgun might be necessary in some cases. But that's only with the proper training. Do YOU have any kind of weapon safety training for this assault rifle?"
To which Ryan responded - totally seriously (and Chris and Meaghan can attest to this)......
"Well I've got a merit badge from Scouts."
Severo (on Ryan’s recent gun purchase)
Apparently part of the radio spot includes the woman laughing. And not just any ol' hardy-har-har laugh either. They wanted a flirty, sexy laugh. Laughing on command is hard, but to give your best flirty laugh...aie, aie, aie!
Kari (I can picture this and it makes me laugh)
And now, for my hands-down favorite quote of 2007…
Since I work with three other women, the squeals were positively deafening and I’m pretty sure I heard someone’s uterus explode.
Courtney (on baby discussions)
Dec 19, 2007
Dec 18, 2007
I Don't Know Nothin 'bout Birthin' No Babies, Ms. Scarlett
Dear Diary,
The time of family gatherings to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior is upon us. Beginning this weekend, I'll be heading to several family get-togethers, where there will be food, presents, stories of Christmas past and... babies. It's inevitable and I must prepare for it. Someone is probably going to ask when I'll be having a baby. And if they aren't asking it, I'll get the look - you know, that head cocked to the side, set down a bit, with lips pursed but in a half smile, especially if I'm playing with a child or holding a baby at that moment. In their mind they're saying, "Poor girl, she doesn't have a purpose in life and doesn't know what true happiness is until she has a baby."
I'm all about the baby Jesus around Christmas, but stop thinking I need a baby!
You want to know the reason I haven't had a baby? Other than the obvious fact that sperm has not attached to one of my eggs yet, I'm just not sure I want one. Now, if I were in a room full of women, I'd probably hear a few gasps, awes and "oh my lord"s.
To me, deciding whether to have a baby is not as simple as making a list of pros and cons. Many people have said that Chris and I would make great parents, but frankly, it scares the shit out of me to think of the fact that we would be responsible for another person's upbringing. How we treat him/her in stressful situations could determine so much in the long run, or, if he/she is anything like me, she'll (just tired of writing he or she) just make up her mind as a teen and it may or may not matter what I've ever done (which is fine).
I've been an aunt since I was 8 years old. Yep, my sister, who is 10 years older than me, had a baby when she was 18. I've always enjoyed this role, babysitting when I could, spoiling them when I could, being someone they could talk to if they wanted. Moving to Georgia made that much harder, but I still try to stay in touch. But am I ready to do the mom thing? That is 24/7 and will mean that most of my selfishness will go out the door. I say most because if I were a mom, I would take time for myself. I would also make sure my husband and I got time together.
And that's another thing. I really like my husband... I mean REALLY! We truly are the best of friends. The poor guy knows everything about me, all my ups and downs, and loves me anyway! More than anything in the world, we both like to just be with the other. I realize we get more time together than a lot of couples, but are we ready to give up any of that time? And even though we might still be together, just with a baby, it just doesn't seem like the same to me. I like having him all to myself sometimes, with no distractions and no obligations.
Financially, I think we would be fine... as long as we keep our jobs. Chris and I are both penny-pinchers. I think it brings him some level of joy to save money, so I'm not really worried about that. Of course, we are helping take care of his mom, but we're hoping the biggest part of that is close to being over.
But the fear lingers. What if I treat my kid like my mom treated me... I'm not going to go into the whole story, but it was usually an unpleasant situation. Or, even worse, what if I go crazy like so many mothers seem to do. Chris and I have realized that the majority of the mothers we know are whacko on some level. The kids are their lives; the husbands get tossed to the side. They begin wearing sensible shoes ALL THE TIME and those stupid little sweaters with snowmen and apples on them! They can't socialize with adults. They are pear shaped, and they all chop off their hair at some point!
I feel like I could possibly be a good mom. I'd kind of be playing it by ear (plus reading every book on the matter). I feel like I should breast feed (it's the best for baby and mom, from what I read), exercise, be VERY involved in education from day 1, expose my kid to animals at an early age, be goofy, never put my little boy in a sweater vest, expect my child to behave in a restaurant or other public place, respect what he or she has to say, tell them about sex pretty early, respect their privacy but be someone they can talk to, NOT YELL, take them to other countries or at least states, be proud of their efforts, teach them the value of work and tell them all about my family and how to avoid falling in their footsteps.
And if they come home one day or call and say "I'm pregnant" (or "I got a girl pregnant"), "I got arrested," "I'm not going to college," "I'm on drugs" or "I hate you, you fuckin' bitch," I must love them and treat them just the same. And if he or she comes to me and says "I'm gay." I have to be that support for them that they may not get anywhere else.
My biggest fear in the world is losing Chris. What if we have a baby and then he finds some trashy blonde named Trixie (just kidding) or dies? I don't want to be a single mom, and I don't want to have the thought of wishing I could just have him back instead.
I had a friend tell me once that Chris and I needed to reproduce to compensate for the stupid people having babies. He had seen some movie about only stupid people reproducing and taking over the world. I also recently read an article about two women who will not have children (one had had two abortions to prevent this) because they felt it was just another way of polluting the earth - another mouth to feed, another person breathing air and wasting all over the earth. That was pretty extreme to me, but it makes me think. And then what about adoption? Is it selfish of me to have my own child when there are so many out there with no parents or with abusive parents from which they had to be taken away? There are so many opinions, so many reasons to have one and so many reasons to not.
I even had one mom say, "Well, you want to have some kids because when you are old and if your husband is gone, they'll be all you have." What? See! Crazy! Why can't you still have a good circle of friends when you are old? Because as a mom, you some how get rid of all your friends! (Not really, but a lot of these crazy moms have no friends)
AND, with my dad gone, my mom a little on the extreme and Chris' mom with mental illness, my kid will have one cool grandparent! Not to mention, mental illness can be hereditary. What if my kid... uugh all the questions!
So where does this leave me? For now, I'll just respond to the questions with fake and mean answers like, "never" and "when you stop having them." Secretly, I'll just wish that Chris and I could live in Tuscany with about 10 dogs. I'd be perfectly happy with that.
The time of family gatherings to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior is upon us. Beginning this weekend, I'll be heading to several family get-togethers, where there will be food, presents, stories of Christmas past and... babies. It's inevitable and I must prepare for it. Someone is probably going to ask when I'll be having a baby. And if they aren't asking it, I'll get the look - you know, that head cocked to the side, set down a bit, with lips pursed but in a half smile, especially if I'm playing with a child or holding a baby at that moment. In their mind they're saying, "Poor girl, she doesn't have a purpose in life and doesn't know what true happiness is until she has a baby."
I'm all about the baby Jesus around Christmas, but stop thinking I need a baby!
You want to know the reason I haven't had a baby? Other than the obvious fact that sperm has not attached to one of my eggs yet, I'm just not sure I want one. Now, if I were in a room full of women, I'd probably hear a few gasps, awes and "oh my lord"s.
To me, deciding whether to have a baby is not as simple as making a list of pros and cons. Many people have said that Chris and I would make great parents, but frankly, it scares the shit out of me to think of the fact that we would be responsible for another person's upbringing. How we treat him/her in stressful situations could determine so much in the long run, or, if he/she is anything like me, she'll (just tired of writing he or she) just make up her mind as a teen and it may or may not matter what I've ever done (which is fine).
I've been an aunt since I was 8 years old. Yep, my sister, who is 10 years older than me, had a baby when she was 18. I've always enjoyed this role, babysitting when I could, spoiling them when I could, being someone they could talk to if they wanted. Moving to Georgia made that much harder, but I still try to stay in touch. But am I ready to do the mom thing? That is 24/7 and will mean that most of my selfishness will go out the door. I say most because if I were a mom, I would take time for myself. I would also make sure my husband and I got time together.
And that's another thing. I really like my husband... I mean REALLY! We truly are the best of friends. The poor guy knows everything about me, all my ups and downs, and loves me anyway! More than anything in the world, we both like to just be with the other. I realize we get more time together than a lot of couples, but are we ready to give up any of that time? And even though we might still be together, just with a baby, it just doesn't seem like the same to me. I like having him all to myself sometimes, with no distractions and no obligations.
Financially, I think we would be fine... as long as we keep our jobs. Chris and I are both penny-pinchers. I think it brings him some level of joy to save money, so I'm not really worried about that. Of course, we are helping take care of his mom, but we're hoping the biggest part of that is close to being over.
But the fear lingers. What if I treat my kid like my mom treated me... I'm not going to go into the whole story, but it was usually an unpleasant situation. Or, even worse, what if I go crazy like so many mothers seem to do. Chris and I have realized that the majority of the mothers we know are whacko on some level. The kids are their lives; the husbands get tossed to the side. They begin wearing sensible shoes ALL THE TIME and those stupid little sweaters with snowmen and apples on them! They can't socialize with adults. They are pear shaped, and they all chop off their hair at some point!
I feel like I could possibly be a good mom. I'd kind of be playing it by ear (plus reading every book on the matter). I feel like I should breast feed (it's the best for baby and mom, from what I read), exercise, be VERY involved in education from day 1, expose my kid to animals at an early age, be goofy, never put my little boy in a sweater vest, expect my child to behave in a restaurant or other public place, respect what he or she has to say, tell them about sex pretty early, respect their privacy but be someone they can talk to, NOT YELL, take them to other countries or at least states, be proud of their efforts, teach them the value of work and tell them all about my family and how to avoid falling in their footsteps.
And if they come home one day or call and say "I'm pregnant" (or "I got a girl pregnant"), "I got arrested," "I'm not going to college," "I'm on drugs" or "I hate you, you fuckin' bitch," I must love them and treat them just the same. And if he or she comes to me and says "I'm gay." I have to be that support for them that they may not get anywhere else.
My biggest fear in the world is losing Chris. What if we have a baby and then he finds some trashy blonde named Trixie (just kidding) or dies? I don't want to be a single mom, and I don't want to have the thought of wishing I could just have him back instead.
I had a friend tell me once that Chris and I needed to reproduce to compensate for the stupid people having babies. He had seen some movie about only stupid people reproducing and taking over the world. I also recently read an article about two women who will not have children (one had had two abortions to prevent this) because they felt it was just another way of polluting the earth - another mouth to feed, another person breathing air and wasting all over the earth. That was pretty extreme to me, but it makes me think. And then what about adoption? Is it selfish of me to have my own child when there are so many out there with no parents or with abusive parents from which they had to be taken away? There are so many opinions, so many reasons to have one and so many reasons to not.
I even had one mom say, "Well, you want to have some kids because when you are old and if your husband is gone, they'll be all you have." What? See! Crazy! Why can't you still have a good circle of friends when you are old? Because as a mom, you some how get rid of all your friends! (Not really, but a lot of these crazy moms have no friends)
AND, with my dad gone, my mom a little on the extreme and Chris' mom with mental illness, my kid will have one cool grandparent! Not to mention, mental illness can be hereditary. What if my kid... uugh all the questions!
So where does this leave me? For now, I'll just respond to the questions with fake and mean answers like, "never" and "when you stop having them." Secretly, I'll just wish that Chris and I could live in Tuscany with about 10 dogs. I'd be perfectly happy with that.
Dec 14, 2007
Tagged for Wisdom
This is it! This is my big chance to share all I know... and yes, it will all fit in one post! Just kidding (kind of).
After being tagged by my France-dwelling friend Kari to share my knowledge of the written word and getting published, I pondered for a moment. What do I really know? So that anyone reading this won't think I'm pulling this out of my butt, I'll give you a quick overview of my credentials:
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in communication with a concentration in journalism from Shorter College, an itsy bitsy college in Northwest Georgia. While in school, I was the editor of the college newspaper, which Kari also worked for (poor thing, had to take orders from me!). I also had an internship at my hometown paper, where I was allowed to cover county government while the usual reporter was back at school for a month. After graduation, I worked at the Rome News-Tribune in my current hometown, covering the city government and various other general assignment bits. When the lifestyles editor quit, I asked if I could fill in until they hired someone, stating my experience with layout and editing in college as qualifications. "Filling in" turned into a three-year stint. So, after three years of editing my little heart out, as well as continuing to write stories, I found that the design part of my job was what I loved best. But I still can't help to read things with an editor's eye (that's not to say I don't miss things).
That said, here is some advice that may contribute to Kari's original post on getting published:
Think you're a great writer? You're wrong!
I am not trying to bust your bubble, but if you think you are a great writer, you should just step down from that seat in the sky. There are always going to be writers that might have a better, or just different, way of getting your message across. Read the work of these writers, and read it often. Reading will not only show you some different techniques, it will broaden your vocabulary.
However, don't take that vocabulary and use it all in one story. I have personally known a couple of writers who use words that someone with a Ph.D. might know right off hand, but if I've got to reach for a dictionary to understand your article or story, I most likely won't be reading it again. On the same topic, KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE. If you are writing for a small- to mid-size newspaper, the eighth grade reading level rule still applies. If you are writing for the New York Times (you're not reading my blog, that's for sure), you can up that reading level quite a bit. While we're on the ego, that story is not about you. Unless it is a feature and inserting yourself into the story is definitely adding something to the flow, do not do it. The reader must never think about you when reading a story. If you are writing a story to get an award and not for your reader, stop typing... you should consider a career in politics instead.
I'll take comma splices for a thousand, Alex
I understand it is difficult to remember where to put or not put a comma, but know this information. The comma has a purpose, people. It is to be used as a way of giving the reader a tiny break. Just like most people can't run a marathon, most people cannot read several sentences jumbled into one without a break. As an editor, reading someone's work with the improper use or lack of commas when needed registers in the brain as one word: LAZY!
It also helps to know subject/verb agreement, how to avoid dangling modifiers and the subject or object of prepositions. If I'm reading a pile of stories, I'm going to hone in on the one to which I will have to do the least amount of work.
Lede me to the promised land
As an editor (theoretically speaking - I'm not anymore), my job is to not only look for mistakes, but to read the story as a reader. The first line(s) I read are the most important ones, so make them good. Make them damn good! You had better draw me into this story and make me want to read it. If this part of the story is poorly written, into the recycle bin it goes. No matter if you are writing for newspaper, magazine or newsletter, the good ol' inverted pyramid style is still a great guide.
Also, be descriptive but not too descriptive. The reader was not there, so it is your job to paint a picture for them. However, we don't need five chapters about what the stupid prairie looks like. That's fine for Laura Ingalls Wilder, but not for you. Being observant, however, is one of the best ways to get hired or published. When you describe something that most people may not notice but it is important to story, you are telling your editor that you are meticulous and giving the reader some fodder for the imagination.
The last piece of advice: Read your writing thoroughly before you send it to any editor!
There's probably way more advice to give, but I will leave that to people who are extremely good at what they do. Chris, for example, is a great writer and one of the best editors I have ever seen. His company has noticed this as well and has recently given him a sort of side position of editing the other writers' work before it goes online. His blog is the first listed on the left. Happy writing!
After being tagged by my France-dwelling friend Kari to share my knowledge of the written word and getting published, I pondered for a moment. What do I really know? So that anyone reading this won't think I'm pulling this out of my butt, I'll give you a quick overview of my credentials:
I have a Bachelor of Arts degree in communication with a concentration in journalism from Shorter College, an itsy bitsy college in Northwest Georgia. While in school, I was the editor of the college newspaper, which Kari also worked for (poor thing, had to take orders from me!). I also had an internship at my hometown paper, where I was allowed to cover county government while the usual reporter was back at school for a month. After graduation, I worked at the Rome News-Tribune in my current hometown, covering the city government and various other general assignment bits. When the lifestyles editor quit, I asked if I could fill in until they hired someone, stating my experience with layout and editing in college as qualifications. "Filling in" turned into a three-year stint. So, after three years of editing my little heart out, as well as continuing to write stories, I found that the design part of my job was what I loved best. But I still can't help to read things with an editor's eye (that's not to say I don't miss things).
That said, here is some advice that may contribute to Kari's original post on getting published:
Think you're a great writer? You're wrong!
I am not trying to bust your bubble, but if you think you are a great writer, you should just step down from that seat in the sky. There are always going to be writers that might have a better, or just different, way of getting your message across. Read the work of these writers, and read it often. Reading will not only show you some different techniques, it will broaden your vocabulary.
However, don't take that vocabulary and use it all in one story. I have personally known a couple of writers who use words that someone with a Ph.D. might know right off hand, but if I've got to reach for a dictionary to understand your article or story, I most likely won't be reading it again. On the same topic, KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE. If you are writing for a small- to mid-size newspaper, the eighth grade reading level rule still applies. If you are writing for the New York Times (you're not reading my blog, that's for sure), you can up that reading level quite a bit. While we're on the ego, that story is not about you. Unless it is a feature and inserting yourself into the story is definitely adding something to the flow, do not do it. The reader must never think about you when reading a story. If you are writing a story to get an award and not for your reader, stop typing... you should consider a career in politics instead.
I'll take comma splices for a thousand, Alex
I understand it is difficult to remember where to put or not put a comma, but know this information. The comma has a purpose, people. It is to be used as a way of giving the reader a tiny break. Just like most people can't run a marathon, most people cannot read several sentences jumbled into one without a break. As an editor, reading someone's work with the improper use or lack of commas when needed registers in the brain as one word: LAZY!
It also helps to know subject/verb agreement, how to avoid dangling modifiers and the subject or object of prepositions. If I'm reading a pile of stories, I'm going to hone in on the one to which I will have to do the least amount of work.
Lede me to the promised land
As an editor (theoretically speaking - I'm not anymore), my job is to not only look for mistakes, but to read the story as a reader. The first line(s) I read are the most important ones, so make them good. Make them damn good! You had better draw me into this story and make me want to read it. If this part of the story is poorly written, into the recycle bin it goes. No matter if you are writing for newspaper, magazine or newsletter, the good ol' inverted pyramid style is still a great guide.
Also, be descriptive but not too descriptive. The reader was not there, so it is your job to paint a picture for them. However, we don't need five chapters about what the stupid prairie looks like. That's fine for Laura Ingalls Wilder, but not for you. Being observant, however, is one of the best ways to get hired or published. When you describe something that most people may not notice but it is important to story, you are telling your editor that you are meticulous and giving the reader some fodder for the imagination.
The last piece of advice: Read your writing thoroughly before you send it to any editor!
There's probably way more advice to give, but I will leave that to people who are extremely good at what they do. Chris, for example, is a great writer and one of the best editors I have ever seen. His company has noticed this as well and has recently given him a sort of side position of editing the other writers' work before it goes online. His blog is the first listed on the left. Happy writing!
Dec 11, 2007
More Famous than I Thought!
So, in a random bit of boredom, I decided to Google my great grandfather (the one I mentioned in the last blog), Carlo Alberto Cappa. I always wondered how my relatives knew so much about him. We have quite a bit of documentation on him. Well, here are a few things that came up in my search (you may have to click on these to read them):
Now, I'm thinking if his death was News in the New York Times, he must have been pretty important! I just thought this was really cool. It also explains why every generation of this family (including me) has been a band geek for at least some period of time. I think we even have some copies of some of the music he wrote... very interesting...
Now, I'm thinking if his death was News in the New York Times, he must have been pretty important! I just thought this was really cool. It also explains why every generation of this family (including me) has been a band geek for at least some period of time. I think we even have some copies of some of the music he wrote... very interesting...
Dec 10, 2007
DD2
Today's dedication is devoted to my grandparents, Harold and Marie Hoffman. These were my dad's parents. When I was a child, they lived in Clearwater, Fla., just about 20 miles south of where we lived, close to Tampa. But they originally lived in New York, in a little spot called Mineola.
My grandfather, born Harold Bertrand Hoffman, was the grandson of Carlo Alberto Cappa, a military composer and musician who moved to the States from Northern Italy. Somewhere along the way, one of his children married a Hoffman - thus the German name. My grandmother, born Marie Katherine Gorman (I'm pretty sure that was her last name), was the daughter of an Irish man and an Italian woman. *note, I am going from memory on this but I do have the documentation at home*
Anyway, I was not only enamored of my grandparents but their rich history as well, so that's why I am including it. My grandparents raised their children in New York, sending them to Catholic schools, being the devout followers of the religion that they were. They had four boys and one girl. My dad was the fourth child (again, I think). Shortly following my grandfather's death, we were sent a family video that included footage from when my dad was just a baby. My grandfather was always silly with us, but after watching the video, I fully understand why my dad was such a great dad. My grandfather, or "Grump" as we called him - not because he was grumpy but because we couldn't say grandpa when we were little, would apparently dress up and put on shows for his children. He would be a villain out to get the only little girl and some of the older boys would have to rescue her with their toy guns and cowboy hats. It's quite a site to see. He was always playing tricks on my grandmother as well.
When I was between the ages of 3 and 6, we visited my grandparents at their house in Clearwater just about every weekend. This was my favorite thing to do EVER!!! Over there, we could play, be ourselves and eat the best snacks in the world. These snacks included fresh peaches, Pecan Sandies, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches and pretty much any other fruit our little hearts desired (it was Florida, fresh fruit was everywhere). Going to their house also meant we could spend the night in the room with the two twin beds where there were maracas sitting on the dresser. We could play around with the ukulele and mandolin and climb the massive tree out back. My grandmother and I would play several rounds of Go Fish. We'd have spaghetti for dinner, and I got to sit in a special chair just for me (Actually all the kids had once sat in it. It was high like a high chair only without the tray in the front.)
Grump would also take us fishing, although he really didn't drive too much. The man walked all the time, swam a couple times a week and sang in the choir at church. His voice was the most beautiful voice I have every heard!
When I was about 6 years old, we moved to Tennessee. I was not happy! We still visited my grandparents for a couple of years during vacation but it wasn't the same as getting to see them every weekend. When I was about 10, my grandmother got Alzheimer's and couldn't remember us when we came for a visit. I had to teach her how to play Go Fish again... not fun! Shortly after, she passed away. We weren't allowed to go see the body during the wake (thank God! Mom made a good decision there!). But during the funeral, my dad just sobbed. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. It was then that I knew she was even more special than I had thought.
Not too long after that, my grandfather sold their house and car and moved to Arizona to be with two of his sons. When I was about 12, he came to visit us in Tennessee because my dad was sick with cancer. It was a great visit and it made my dad feel a little better. Grump and I walked to the grocery store one day and just talked the whole time (We could have driven but I'm telling you, the man walked everywhere!). A few months later, I saw him for the last time at my dad's funeral. He was the only person I wanted to visit with, but he was having a hard time, too.
I didn't hear from Grump too much more for a while. For my high school graduation, he sent a card and $50 and told me to keep in touch. So when I went to college, I wrote him a couple times a month. I still have the letters he wrote to me. It was great getting that relationship back again. He even called one time and I asked him to sing for me. I don't even remember the song because I think it was in Italian, but it was beautiful - even over the phone. He asked me to sing, too, but I don't think it was quite to the caliber of his!
While at home for Christmas break my sophomore year (I think), we got a call from our uncle that Grump had died. He had had a stroke and died a few days later at the age of 89. A week before he died, my uncle said, he was still walking, swimming and singing in the church choir. Even though I didn't really cry when I found out my dad had died, I cried when I heard that Grump had died. I guess I had seen my dad go through an illness, so I was almost expecting it and knew he wasn't suffering any longer. But it was more sudden with Grump. He did, however, die on the same day my dad died, just years later - on New Year's Eve. Kind of weird really.
But if you read my post about dreams, that was the night I had the dream where Grump came to me and said "I'm OK." I'm not sure why I had this dream. I had no doubt that he was OK. He was one of the truest Christians I have ever known, always loving and caring and taking care of others.
I am grateful for the time I had with him but wish, like with my dad, that Chris could have met him. Chris has, however, seen the video and has proof of how crazy (in a good way) he was! All of my grandparents are dead now, but these two people will always remain with me! The short time I got to spend with them has made me a better person, and someday I hope to be as good of parents and grandparents as they were!
My grandfather, born Harold Bertrand Hoffman, was the grandson of Carlo Alberto Cappa, a military composer and musician who moved to the States from Northern Italy. Somewhere along the way, one of his children married a Hoffman - thus the German name. My grandmother, born Marie Katherine Gorman (I'm pretty sure that was her last name), was the daughter of an Irish man and an Italian woman. *note, I am going from memory on this but I do have the documentation at home*
Anyway, I was not only enamored of my grandparents but their rich history as well, so that's why I am including it. My grandparents raised their children in New York, sending them to Catholic schools, being the devout followers of the religion that they were. They had four boys and one girl. My dad was the fourth child (again, I think). Shortly following my grandfather's death, we were sent a family video that included footage from when my dad was just a baby. My grandfather was always silly with us, but after watching the video, I fully understand why my dad was such a great dad. My grandfather, or "Grump" as we called him - not because he was grumpy but because we couldn't say grandpa when we were little, would apparently dress up and put on shows for his children. He would be a villain out to get the only little girl and some of the older boys would have to rescue her with their toy guns and cowboy hats. It's quite a site to see. He was always playing tricks on my grandmother as well.
When I was between the ages of 3 and 6, we visited my grandparents at their house in Clearwater just about every weekend. This was my favorite thing to do EVER!!! Over there, we could play, be ourselves and eat the best snacks in the world. These snacks included fresh peaches, Pecan Sandies, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches and pretty much any other fruit our little hearts desired (it was Florida, fresh fruit was everywhere). Going to their house also meant we could spend the night in the room with the two twin beds where there were maracas sitting on the dresser. We could play around with the ukulele and mandolin and climb the massive tree out back. My grandmother and I would play several rounds of Go Fish. We'd have spaghetti for dinner, and I got to sit in a special chair just for me (Actually all the kids had once sat in it. It was high like a high chair only without the tray in the front.)
Grump would also take us fishing, although he really didn't drive too much. The man walked all the time, swam a couple times a week and sang in the choir at church. His voice was the most beautiful voice I have every heard!
When I was about 6 years old, we moved to Tennessee. I was not happy! We still visited my grandparents for a couple of years during vacation but it wasn't the same as getting to see them every weekend. When I was about 10, my grandmother got Alzheimer's and couldn't remember us when we came for a visit. I had to teach her how to play Go Fish again... not fun! Shortly after, she passed away. We weren't allowed to go see the body during the wake (thank God! Mom made a good decision there!). But during the funeral, my dad just sobbed. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. It was then that I knew she was even more special than I had thought.
Not too long after that, my grandfather sold their house and car and moved to Arizona to be with two of his sons. When I was about 12, he came to visit us in Tennessee because my dad was sick with cancer. It was a great visit and it made my dad feel a little better. Grump and I walked to the grocery store one day and just talked the whole time (We could have driven but I'm telling you, the man walked everywhere!). A few months later, I saw him for the last time at my dad's funeral. He was the only person I wanted to visit with, but he was having a hard time, too.
I didn't hear from Grump too much more for a while. For my high school graduation, he sent a card and $50 and told me to keep in touch. So when I went to college, I wrote him a couple times a month. I still have the letters he wrote to me. It was great getting that relationship back again. He even called one time and I asked him to sing for me. I don't even remember the song because I think it was in Italian, but it was beautiful - even over the phone. He asked me to sing, too, but I don't think it was quite to the caliber of his!
While at home for Christmas break my sophomore year (I think), we got a call from our uncle that Grump had died. He had had a stroke and died a few days later at the age of 89. A week before he died, my uncle said, he was still walking, swimming and singing in the church choir. Even though I didn't really cry when I found out my dad had died, I cried when I heard that Grump had died. I guess I had seen my dad go through an illness, so I was almost expecting it and knew he wasn't suffering any longer. But it was more sudden with Grump. He did, however, die on the same day my dad died, just years later - on New Year's Eve. Kind of weird really.
But if you read my post about dreams, that was the night I had the dream where Grump came to me and said "I'm OK." I'm not sure why I had this dream. I had no doubt that he was OK. He was one of the truest Christians I have ever known, always loving and caring and taking care of others.
I am grateful for the time I had with him but wish, like with my dad, that Chris could have met him. Chris has, however, seen the video and has proof of how crazy (in a good way) he was! All of my grandparents are dead now, but these two people will always remain with me! The short time I got to spend with them has made me a better person, and someday I hope to be as good of parents and grandparents as they were!
Dec 6, 2007
AIDS, Coworkers and the Baby Jesus
Earlier this week, I dialed the number for the AIDS Resource Council here in Rome, my usual Christmas-time ritual. For the past couple of years now, beginning at the paper, Chris and I have participated in basically "adopting" a child or two from them for Christmas. The volunteers there send a sheet with the child's first name, age, sex and clothing sizes, along with the top three items this child wants for Christmas. Last year, I helped get others at the paper involved (Sonya did it the year before), and it was addictive. So I called the council and had them send the information for seven kids over, thinking I would ask coworkers at my current employment to pitch in.
The volunteer explained to me that they have many teenagers this year and that many people just want to buy for the little kids. So I told her to send the teens' info right over. I then sent out an e-mail to the entire PR department, which includes 9 or 10 people, explaining how the procedure works and asking if anyone would like to participate. My thought: "Oh, I work here now where people are nice and supposedly Christians, so they should eat this up!" WRONG!
I had a few people say they would like to do this. One got a sheet and will be shopping soon. Another got a sheet and was very reluctant about the whole thing, informing me that she usually spends about $1600 on Christmas for family and neighbors who she really doesn't like buying for but she's done it forever so she has to continue (in other words, she's a push-over). I'm thinking: " Wow, $1600 on Christmas! It's time to say 'no' to those who don't need it so you can maybe help some that do." But I can't tell people how to spend their money...
Then, another coworker decides that we should do this instead of buying gifts for each other (this was the first I had heard about buying gifts for each other, by the way). I think this sounds like a good idea until he suggests that we have a meeting about it and I present. You know, unnecessary meetings are the highlight of my life and all, and being the presenter just makes it better. So to get him back at said meeting I open with, "Since Roger (using an alias here) didn't read the e-mail I sent out about this program, I'll repeat what I wrote in it to explain how this goes." I know I have a big mouth, but that's what you get for calling a meeting.
By the end of the unnecessary meeting, "we" have decided to take one child and seven of us contribute $25 to buy this kid a $100 skateboard and some DVDs. The coworker who spends $1600 each year put her kid back in the pile. Take away the one kid that another coworker so generously took and the two kids Chris and I will buy for and this leaves three kids in my hands with no Christmas presents. FABULOUS!
How did something that was supposed to be fun and giving turn into a meeting and leave three kids with nothing? Oh, and he wanted ME to go shopping for the kid. (Can you tell this guy loves to delegate even though he's not the boss?) I suggested someone else go since my husband and I would already be doing this for other kids. Now I have to find someone else to adopt these kids, possibly buy for them myself or send them back to ARC, which is not an option. (Last year, some woman committed to buying for two sisters and about three days before the gifts had to be in she bailed out. So the ARC volunteer called me asking if I could help. You betcha! I just can't see these kids going without a Christmas!)
I don't really want to send out a mass e-mail... I hate those. I may be contacting our church to see if they would help. They are extremely giving and do a lot for the community already. If for some reason they can't, I may call the newspaper. Who knew that the people at the newspaper would help out more willingly than the new fellow employees?!
I suppose I'm quite disappointed, but as I told Chris the other day, I think I just expect too much out of people. I've always been this way, and I'm beginning to think it's one of my biggest downfalls. I know I could do so much more to make the world a better place on so many levels, so I guess I can't be so critical. But every job I've ever had and everything I've set my mind to doing, I've done to the best of my ability and am constantly surrounded by a big bunch of half-assers! I shouldn't have to use half my strength or abilities to motivate those around me to just do what is required, much less any more.
Well, I will take the kids' info, try to give them a great Christmas and know that I tried. I'm telling you what, bah frickin' humbug! What do people have against the baby Jesus anyway?
The volunteer explained to me that they have many teenagers this year and that many people just want to buy for the little kids. So I told her to send the teens' info right over. I then sent out an e-mail to the entire PR department, which includes 9 or 10 people, explaining how the procedure works and asking if anyone would like to participate. My thought: "Oh, I work here now where people are nice and supposedly Christians, so they should eat this up!" WRONG!
I had a few people say they would like to do this. One got a sheet and will be shopping soon. Another got a sheet and was very reluctant about the whole thing, informing me that she usually spends about $1600 on Christmas for family and neighbors who she really doesn't like buying for but she's done it forever so she has to continue (in other words, she's a push-over). I'm thinking: " Wow, $1600 on Christmas! It's time to say 'no' to those who don't need it so you can maybe help some that do." But I can't tell people how to spend their money...
Then, another coworker decides that we should do this instead of buying gifts for each other (this was the first I had heard about buying gifts for each other, by the way). I think this sounds like a good idea until he suggests that we have a meeting about it and I present. You know, unnecessary meetings are the highlight of my life and all, and being the presenter just makes it better. So to get him back at said meeting I open with, "Since Roger (using an alias here) didn't read the e-mail I sent out about this program, I'll repeat what I wrote in it to explain how this goes." I know I have a big mouth, but that's what you get for calling a meeting.
By the end of the unnecessary meeting, "we" have decided to take one child and seven of us contribute $25 to buy this kid a $100 skateboard and some DVDs. The coworker who spends $1600 each year put her kid back in the pile. Take away the one kid that another coworker so generously took and the two kids Chris and I will buy for and this leaves three kids in my hands with no Christmas presents. FABULOUS!
How did something that was supposed to be fun and giving turn into a meeting and leave three kids with nothing? Oh, and he wanted ME to go shopping for the kid. (Can you tell this guy loves to delegate even though he's not the boss?) I suggested someone else go since my husband and I would already be doing this for other kids. Now I have to find someone else to adopt these kids, possibly buy for them myself or send them back to ARC, which is not an option. (Last year, some woman committed to buying for two sisters and about three days before the gifts had to be in she bailed out. So the ARC volunteer called me asking if I could help. You betcha! I just can't see these kids going without a Christmas!)
I don't really want to send out a mass e-mail... I hate those. I may be contacting our church to see if they would help. They are extremely giving and do a lot for the community already. If for some reason they can't, I may call the newspaper. Who knew that the people at the newspaper would help out more willingly than the new fellow employees?!
I suppose I'm quite disappointed, but as I told Chris the other day, I think I just expect too much out of people. I've always been this way, and I'm beginning to think it's one of my biggest downfalls. I know I could do so much more to make the world a better place on so many levels, so I guess I can't be so critical. But every job I've ever had and everything I've set my mind to doing, I've done to the best of my ability and am constantly surrounded by a big bunch of half-assers! I shouldn't have to use half my strength or abilities to motivate those around me to just do what is required, much less any more.
Well, I will take the kids' info, try to give them a great Christmas and know that I tried. I'm telling you what, bah frickin' humbug! What do people have against the baby Jesus anyway?
Dec 3, 2007
December Dedications
I have been inspired by my rotten friend, Jacob, (hey, if I'm mean, that's what he's gettin') to write about those who I care about the most and am thinking I will devote random posts in December to this. I won't be writing the sappy posts every day, because then anyone who reads this blog would probably stop reading it! But to start off my December Dedications, I'll be writing about someone who is truly near and dear to my heart: Sadie (for those of you who don't know, that's my dog).
Some of my readers, or perhaps all, are probably thinking that I am a little obsessed with my dog. Well, I am, but maybe after you read this, you'll understand why.
Growing up (It all goes back to childhood, doesn't it? I swear, I'm like a psychologist's dream...), I was the youngest in a family of four kids (well, technically there were five but the oldest died before I was even born). Anyhoo, most of my siblings were quite a bit older than me and doing the teenager things once I was old enough to want someone to play with. With my dad being a huge animal-lover, we always had a dog. My "little sister" growing up was our dog, Sassy. She was a mid-size, German Shepherd mix who was as sweet as can be with a little twist of attitude. We had that dog for 12 years, and the day I got the call that she had passed, it was my first semester at college. I crawled in my closet and cried so hard (my roommates weren't really dog people and didn't understand, so I hid).
Six years later, Chris and I finally got a house, which for me meant that we could finally get a dog. It had been long enough without one! I don't think I could have gotten another right away, but it was finally time. So, not even two weeks after signing the papers for the house, we were at the pound. (keep in mind Chris had never had a dog as a pet and was nervous about the whole thing) The animal shelter in Rome has two pretty long aisles with about 10 to 12 cages on one side filled with dogs. We went down the first aisle and saw some nice looking dogs (of course, I'd adopt them all if I could) but no puppies. It's my experience to get a dog when they are a puppy and "raise" them the way you would like, but I would try it with an adult dog. Anyway, we then made our way down the second aisle and I was starting to get a little disappointed. We then got to the last cage, which was full of puppies, all cute and adorable, but one stood out among the rest. It was like she knew she had to make herself noticeable. There she was, climbing on top of every other puppy and poking her short muzzle through the fence. Her face looked just like my childhood friend and I instantly fell in love.
Even with her horrible smell and the hole in her side (The morons at the pound had put her with a full-grown German Shepherd, which bit her. So she had a hole the size of a tooth in her side.), we took her home. According to the vet, she was about five months old, so not long after bringing her home and having the infection drained out of her side, she was on the vet table again to be spayed. The poor thing has also had a puppy cold and was once stung by a bee in the face, which swelled up like a balloon (kind of funny, but I was a little worried!). She has seemingly been thankful we took her out of that pound every since that first day.
Sadie is about to turn three in January (we think anyway!). This dog is so smart and so well-behaved. It only took us about two months, if that, to completely train her to not pee or poop in the house. She now has free reign of the entire house and has a "bladder of steel," as Chris calls it. She has gone more than 12 hours at the house without peeing or pooping until we got home to take her outside. She's great with kids, too. Anytime the nieces or nephews come over and are picking and prodding at her, she just takes it. She sleeps on the couch but knows that she really shouldn't get up there unless there's a blanket. We also take her for walks a lot, either around the block, at the lake in our neighborhood or at one of the local parks. She rarely ever gets put on the leash. She just stays with us! It's awesome!
Just last night, however, Chris and I were discussing her vocabulary. Now, I know people who think that dogs don't know words, and frankly, they are morons. I even interviewed about four blind people in Rome shortly before my exit out of the Rome News-Tribune who said that their seeing-eye dogs know about 35 to 40 commands. These aren't the usual commands either. These are full sentences like, "Find the church. Find the elevator. Take me home, etc." Sadie isn't quite at this status, but here are some of the commands, words and phrases she knows:
obviously, she knows her name
sit
lie down (yes, we use correct grammar with our dog)
shake
high five
easy (this is when I'm putting a treat on her nose. She tosses it up and catches it. She's a freakin' genius!)
treat
stay (she's still working on this one a bit)
heel (this one too)
come
walk (this single word will evoke massive jumping, licking and wagging!)
go
eat
water
pee
poop (yeah, she knows the difference)
cuddle
bed time
that's not for you (usually said when we have food)
Lexi (her best friend in the dog world)
kisses (not that she ever needs this command)
no
good girl/bad girl (although I think this one has more to do with the tone)
bath (if I say this and grab her shampoo and a towel, she goes into the bathroom and sits next to the tub)
bone
swimming (although we haven't done this one in a while)
There's possibly more, but I can't think of anything else right now. But on top of all her doggy knowledge and good behavior, she's really a sweetheart. She's SO happy when Chris or I come home and even when we just walk into a room. She's a lick-a-holic (possibly her only downfall - other than how she reacts to getting her nails cut). I know that she will most likely die way before I do, and I just try not to think about it. Anytime you come over to the our house, you will be greeted warmly by Sadie. She helps make our little family what it is!.
Some of my readers, or perhaps all, are probably thinking that I am a little obsessed with my dog. Well, I am, but maybe after you read this, you'll understand why.
Growing up (It all goes back to childhood, doesn't it? I swear, I'm like a psychologist's dream...), I was the youngest in a family of four kids (well, technically there were five but the oldest died before I was even born). Anyhoo, most of my siblings were quite a bit older than me and doing the teenager things once I was old enough to want someone to play with. With my dad being a huge animal-lover, we always had a dog. My "little sister" growing up was our dog, Sassy. She was a mid-size, German Shepherd mix who was as sweet as can be with a little twist of attitude. We had that dog for 12 years, and the day I got the call that she had passed, it was my first semester at college. I crawled in my closet and cried so hard (my roommates weren't really dog people and didn't understand, so I hid).
Six years later, Chris and I finally got a house, which for me meant that we could finally get a dog. It had been long enough without one! I don't think I could have gotten another right away, but it was finally time. So, not even two weeks after signing the papers for the house, we were at the pound. (keep in mind Chris had never had a dog as a pet and was nervous about the whole thing) The animal shelter in Rome has two pretty long aisles with about 10 to 12 cages on one side filled with dogs. We went down the first aisle and saw some nice looking dogs (of course, I'd adopt them all if I could) but no puppies. It's my experience to get a dog when they are a puppy and "raise" them the way you would like, but I would try it with an adult dog. Anyway, we then made our way down the second aisle and I was starting to get a little disappointed. We then got to the last cage, which was full of puppies, all cute and adorable, but one stood out among the rest. It was like she knew she had to make herself noticeable. There she was, climbing on top of every other puppy and poking her short muzzle through the fence. Her face looked just like my childhood friend and I instantly fell in love.
Even with her horrible smell and the hole in her side (The morons at the pound had put her with a full-grown German Shepherd, which bit her. So she had a hole the size of a tooth in her side.), we took her home. According to the vet, she was about five months old, so not long after bringing her home and having the infection drained out of her side, she was on the vet table again to be spayed. The poor thing has also had a puppy cold and was once stung by a bee in the face, which swelled up like a balloon (kind of funny, but I was a little worried!). She has seemingly been thankful we took her out of that pound every since that first day.
Sadie is about to turn three in January (we think anyway!). This dog is so smart and so well-behaved. It only took us about two months, if that, to completely train her to not pee or poop in the house. She now has free reign of the entire house and has a "bladder of steel," as Chris calls it. She has gone more than 12 hours at the house without peeing or pooping until we got home to take her outside. She's great with kids, too. Anytime the nieces or nephews come over and are picking and prodding at her, she just takes it. She sleeps on the couch but knows that she really shouldn't get up there unless there's a blanket. We also take her for walks a lot, either around the block, at the lake in our neighborhood or at one of the local parks. She rarely ever gets put on the leash. She just stays with us! It's awesome!
Just last night, however, Chris and I were discussing her vocabulary. Now, I know people who think that dogs don't know words, and frankly, they are morons. I even interviewed about four blind people in Rome shortly before my exit out of the Rome News-Tribune who said that their seeing-eye dogs know about 35 to 40 commands. These aren't the usual commands either. These are full sentences like, "Find the church. Find the elevator. Take me home, etc." Sadie isn't quite at this status, but here are some of the commands, words and phrases she knows:
obviously, she knows her name
sit
lie down (yes, we use correct grammar with our dog)
shake
high five
easy (this is when I'm putting a treat on her nose. She tosses it up and catches it. She's a freakin' genius!)
treat
stay (she's still working on this one a bit)
heel (this one too)
come
walk (this single word will evoke massive jumping, licking and wagging!)
go
eat
water
pee
poop (yeah, she knows the difference)
cuddle
bed time
that's not for you (usually said when we have food)
Lexi (her best friend in the dog world)
kisses (not that she ever needs this command)
no
good girl/bad girl (although I think this one has more to do with the tone)
bath (if I say this and grab her shampoo and a towel, she goes into the bathroom and sits next to the tub)
bone
swimming (although we haven't done this one in a while)
There's possibly more, but I can't think of anything else right now. But on top of all her doggy knowledge and good behavior, she's really a sweetheart. She's SO happy when Chris or I come home and even when we just walk into a room. She's a lick-a-holic (possibly her only downfall - other than how she reacts to getting her nails cut). I know that she will most likely die way before I do, and I just try not to think about it. Anytime you come over to the our house, you will be greeted warmly by Sadie. She helps make our little family what it is!.
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