Mothers and Daughters

I did not get dressed on Sunday. It was sort of a laze around day and I enjoyed every second of it. Brushing my hair and my teeth was enough.

I spent some time gathering items for our church bazaar. I was quite proud of myself -- lots of good stuff that will hopefully bring much needed money. My dad came over to load up his truck and be the delivery man. One arm was busy patting myself on the back while the other was dialing my mother. I thought she'd be thrilled. Instead, she said, "It's not quite the same as having your butt in the pew."

She sent me a gift the other day. It's a towel that says, "I smile because you're my daughter. I laugh because there's nothing you can do about it."

Never say Never

Just like the word "hate," I also try to avoid the word "never." One is cruel and the other is permanent. If I'm expected to keep growing and learning, neither of these words belongs in my vocabulary.

I've had girlfriends announce they will never remarry. I've attended the next wedding. The husband likes to state (loudly) that he will never have another dog after this one. My next dog and I will miss him.

As far as I can tell, I will probably never go sky diving and I will avoid camping with everything I can muster. I might hate ideas or situations I find myself in -- I will not hate people.

Is the Grass Greener?

My next door neighbors have two young children and an aging dog, Winston. He is gray and old (the dog, not the husband) and I'm thinking his vision is not quite what it used to be. He wanders. He sometimes wanders over here.

The neighbors were preparing for a party, complete with caterers and valet parking. Greeters in white jackets and waiters with trays.

I was doing laundry and hanging unmentionables in the trees. (They can't see my backyard so I was safe.) I did sort of drape myself over the fence as a voyeur.

Then I sat on the patio with underwear flapping in the air and Winston decided to come back over. Winston wanted to party with me.

Music People

Jan gave me a few photos the other day. Everyone kids me that my love of music came from this marriage -- this band guy. Truthfully, he has enhanced it but the seeds were sown long ago.

Country music love started with my father and being trapped with his music preference. (Parents always get to pick the music -- a rule I now embrace.)

While perusing these photos, I noticed we are always surrounded by music posters and
rock & roll logos we burned into our lofts. (I also noticed that I am constantly draping myself across someone but we'll discuss that later.)

I have no idea what we were doing in this photo but I am absolutely sure there was music in the background.

Making and Living the Vows

I have a few friends that are going through bumps in the road. Any time a girlfriend starts referring to her husband as "Satan," I think this girl needs a girl trip, or at least, a night out.

Although those people who get married in mid-air or under water get all the attention, most of us choose the traditional route. Lots of people write their own vows but most of us stick with the traditional ones:

I, (name) take you, (name) to be my (wife/husband.) To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

Lovely words and they should be a solemn promise. I've broken it and that is something I'm not proud of.

Sometimes the pageantry gets in the way from seeing the big picture. Here's where living the vows kicks in:

To have and to hold from this day forward.
Some days you will not want to have him or hold him. He won't be very fond of you either. All brides should know that "to hold" doesn't necessarily mean the man you married -- sometimes it's just holding on to the promise.

For better or for worse.
Yes, you will have both. If you get through them, you will find your strength in these times. They can also break you.

For richer, for poorer.
I've never understood women who marry for money. One business bankruptcy, one stock market crash, a couple of bad financial decisions, etc. and it's toast. Nobody chooses poor but it's all in the definition. I don't define "rich" by my bank balance.

In sickness and in health.
I watched the Belle and the Captain. She was an amazing caretaker and certainly took more care of him than he did of her. However, in his own way, he tried very hard. He needled her about taking her meds. He was often saying, "Sit down and rest." When they were both healthy, he was quite proud to show her off.

To love and to cherish.
The love part is easy for me. Even if I am angry, my love does not falter but I don't show it very well. Cherish is a word I associate with children. Some versions of the vows replace this with "to honor and obey." I'm not talented at that "obey" thing. I'm working on cherish and honor. Obey is never going to happen. (At least I'm honest about it.)

Til death do us part.
It's a pretty clear statement. Just another example of something it took me a while to understand. Now I understand that if something goes south with this marriage, it doesn't have to be a physical death -- it would be a death of my heart.

For a reasonably smart person, I'm good at stupidity.

The word that does not show up in the traditional vows is "forgiveness."

Baby Ballerina

Years and years of my youth were spent in ballet classes, recitals and miscellaneous productions. I still can't believe my parents went through endless rehearsals and driving me around.

I was not talented enough to really be a ballerina. I was marginally talented -- enough that let it me dance in some big venues in our town.

My friend, Lucy Burk, is in dance classes. I see her pose. I see her working it. She'll probably grow up to be a neurosurgeon but for this moment in time, she is a ballerina.

Paul Newman

Paul Newman's death on Saturday shook me a little. It's hard to lose an icon and I was pretty crazy about him. I admired his charity work, his enduring marriage to Joanne Woodward and of course, his acting. The blue eyes didn't hurt.

Several years ago, I met him. OK, maybe "met" is a stretch. He was at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway (he owns a racing team,) and I was taking corporate clients through the garage area. He was cordial to my clients. He was also wearing sunglasses so I didn't get to see the blue eyes.

I buy his salad dressing and spaghetti sauce -- not just for the cause. This afternoon I might watch, "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof." Brick was a disturbed and troubled character. (Probably because of Big Daddy.)

Unlike Brick, Paul Newman seemed to be a well-centered man.

Now if something happens to Robert Redford, I will really lose it.

Ten Commandments of Dogs

I like this quote:

"The gift I am sending you is a dog, and is in fact the most precious and valuable possession of mankind." Theodorus Gaza

The other day, I had a visit with my dad while we were sitting in a doctor's office. He was lamenting their little, aging and aggressive dog's tendency to bite everyone in her path. He said (and I am not kidding,) "It makes me feel like I'm not a good parent."

As his only child, I thought about reminding him that he was and is a pretty phenomenal parent for me. But we were in dog mode; if I started talking about people stuff, he would not have paid attention.

My dad is the dog lover, although I must give my mother credit. For someone who was afraid of dogs, she let me get one early in my childhood and she has indulged my dad with his need to care for them. The joke is on her because she is now the one that announces to me, "They can't sleep without us." To borrow a phrase from Oprah, my parents do not consider these beings as pets -- they are little people with fur.

A friend sent me the Ten Commandments of Dogs:

1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

Their dog still bites me. My mother avoids my dog because she is big and jumps. Somehow in the mix, we all own dogs and love them so.

Hello Grandma

This morning I went to let the maniac dog outside and found a dead bird on my back stoop. You know how much I like birds. My windows are in serious need of cleaning so I have no idea how they can get confused enough to bash into them.

I felt a little prickle on the back of my neck. And not just because I will have to gather the courage to dispose of it. My superstitious grandmother thought a dead bird (or a wild bird that flies in your house) represents death.

About 30 minutes later, my mother called to inform me that her sister's husband had just lost his brother to an apparent heart attack.

I don't consider myself superstitious but hmmmm.

Different Times; Different Places

This is only a few of my college girlfriends and I'm sad to admit that I have no idea who is in the middle. But I'm thinking about them. Not only because the baby is in college but for where we are in life.

One of the friends in this photo is a widow and now raising two girls without her beloved. Another is getting married for the first time next month and about to become a step mom -- a position I highly recommend.

We're all roughly the same age and we're all in different places. Some have young children; some have grown children. Some have fabulous careers; others have picked and chosen, whether right or wrong.

There are several friends missing from this picture but the essence is there. Young women embarking on it all ... careers, marriage, motherhood.

I hope we were toasting our parents for giving us this opportunity but I doubt that's what was going through our minds.

Over Ice

Hot and cold. That could describe my preference with foods, my moods and several other areas of my life.

Although the maniac dog lives indoors, I put fresh water outside every day for our time on the patio. I like ice in drinks so I always put ice in her water. (For the record, the husband advises me to stop channeling my personality onto her.) The other day, Houseboy freshened her water and of course I asked, "Did you put ice in it?"

I'm also convinced she's a big country music fan.

Transfer of Power

For an only child, I have a lot of sisters. I have my goldies. I have my girlfriends. I have ny cousins and aunts. I also have the lady above who grew up, got married and birthed three children.

Like true sisters, we sometimes have to compete or compromise. She has her own parents but she has captured a humongous part of my parent's hearts. I am so grateful for their relationship.

My parents have decided to weed through Christmas ornaments and decorations. They're downsizing. My sister has three little ones; my little ones have flown the coop. I do not need more Christmas decorations. In my will, the Christmas stuff I have will go to my sister and our children.

But ...

I'm vacillating. Some of these might be important to me.

The last time I decorated a tree with my parents, I was 17-years old. My sister has been there for most of the decorating, candy-making, etc. for more than 30 years.

If I'm honest with myself, I know she can and should take whatever she wants. I want to be the monitor. It's the control freak in me.

We've picked a date to go through stuff. She invited me. You might think I would find this offensive. Instead, I thought what a gift she is to all of us.

But, if we disagree on an ornament, I will wrestle her skinny butt to the ground and I will win.

Jay Leno

My favorite quote of the month is attributed to Jay Leno:

"With hurricanes, tornadoes, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"

Getting Caught

I'm reliving my college days through the baby and many of my friends' children. I'm also kneeling and praying a lot. (Dear God, Please keep them safe.) College is growing up, learning and making choices. It's also a wild and reckless abandon that forces you to fall back on your morals and decide which chances are worth taking.

Some people have the magician act down. They can turn a situation -- a feather boa into a dove. Others roll the dice and decide the possible repercussions are worth the risk.

One of the wonderful perks of aging is learning from mistakes or bad decision-making. I used to think I was cursed. No matter how large or small the mistake, I will be the one who gets caught. I now consider this a blessing because something fired in my brain that reminded me, "Don't do it! You will get caught." (Not that I didn't do my fair share but I almost always got caught.)

When do You Get the Privilege?

There are a couple of interesting debates that I am following. One has to do with lowering the drinking age from 21-years old to 18-years old. The argument is that a young person who is able to serve his or her country in the military, vote for our president, get married and/or have a child might have a right to buy a beer.

The flip side of this (and the irony is not lost on me) is people who want to up the age to get a driver's licence.

Just like every other phase of life, some people are more mature and certainly more responsible. If I had the answer, I might run for office.

In our state, we're also debating a bill that would allow liquor to be sold on Sunday. It's been amended so many times that now you can order a drink in a restaurant or in a sports facility but you can't walk into a store and buy a case of beer. This makes no sense to anyone but all the politicos are rallying.

Hindsight is 20/20. I'm not one of those 15- or 16-year olds waiting to have the freedom of a driver's license. I've never been in the military and I'm so thankful no one put a rifle in my hand at 18-years old. The Sunday liquor law is annoying and I do understand the loss of revenue but of all the problems in this state and this country, this little tidbit doesn't come close to making my top ten.

Maintenance Week

The last time the husband went on a trip, I declared it maintenance week. I had the air conditioning serviced and the carpet cleaned. I installed all the computer upgrades and had the water softener serviced. I sorted through papers and tried to file. I updated my iPod and loaded new songs.

I put super gooey creams on my hands and feet and went to bed with gloves and socks on, just to keep in the moisture. I put deep conditioner in my hair and slept in a shower cap.

I worked on projects and occasionally did some writing in the middle of the night. No one to check on me or scold me.

Unless you just got married last week, you probably don't look the same as the day you were married. I don't. But I also respect the fact that the husband probably doesn't want to crawl into bed with a woman wearing socks, gloves and a shower cap. I try to do my maintenance in private.

There's another trip coming up in a few weeks. I'm making my list.

Respect

I was taught to respect my elders and those in positions of authority. Some people think this means total wimping out. I disagree. It means you clamp your sassy tongue and speak your mind in a respectful way. If you disagree with your parents, you make your case calmly and honoring their position. If you get pulled over by a policeman, it's a good idea to call him "Sir." He's putting his life on the line every day; I think he's earned it.

Labor Day is a big, big day at our club pool. Everyone seems to want a last breath of summer fun before the pool closes. This year, I planted myself in Cocktail Corner for the weekend. (I went home to sleep.)

I am way over the fashion statement of boy's pants below the equator. I don't want to see their underwear.

Most of the children/teens are taught at a young age to obey the rules, abide by the dress code, etc.

But there was this young man ...

He had a skateboard directly behind the lifeguard chair. Lots of little kids were running around so I asked the lifeguard to have him to move it out of the pool area.

Later, his pants kept swimming lower and lower. Not only was he not wearing swim trunks -- his Ralph Lauren whities were on full display, along with half of his behind. I politely asked him to pull his pants up. I believe I said something like this:

"You may not realize it but this is a private club and we have a dress code. There are tons of children running around."

In a way that I would've never imagined, he got in my face.

"I don't see a dress code posted anywhere, Bi***." (Cute, huh?)

I decided to ignore him but our club manager showed up and asked to know whose guest he was. The young crowd he was with became extremely respectful. He was asked to leave. As he exited the pool, he pulled his pants all the way down.

This is a young man who is going places. (Maybe prison?) His parents must be so proud.

Godparents and Godchildren

Many of us are given the honorary title of godparent. My goddaughters are two of the most gorgeous creatures (inside and out) to inhabit this earth.

People define being a godparent in different ways. Here are mine:

Legal: This is technically a guardian. You have been named to raise a minor child or children in the event of the death of the parents.

Religious: You are expected to assist in the religious training of the children. You are to be a steward. (I sat in a priest's office and made my case to be godmother, although I am not Catholic.)

Moral: You've made an oath to be there. Love them. Scold them. Hold them. Have a vested interest in their lives.

For the two girls above, I've tried to do all three. Okay, they've seen me drink and smoke. They've heard my potty mouth. They've also known that my love for them does not fail. They were put in my arms shortly after birth and my arms have a pretty long reach. They're now semi-grown. We've reached a new phase of life -- they don't need me; I need them.

Yes, I've missed games and dances. But I've been there for every milestone from the first tooth to the first boyfriend. Sometimes I've just been there by talking to their mother.

The baby has some godparents. Neither of them has seen him in years. It's probably for the best -- he has enough parents. But I do get annoyed that this honor was taken so lightly. He's grown now and they've missed out on a lot.

There's a reason "God" is part of the title.

I Love You but I Don't Like You Right Now

Do you experience this feeling? I do. A lot. I also tend to zoom in on one occasion, one comment, one offense and fret about it. The other day, one of my friends told me to "let it go." Good advice but I'm not skilled at it. I prefer to beat it to death. I'm convinced it's a genetic disease.

Anyone who's been in a marriage or a relationship for longer than six months knows this feeling. I don't trust people who won't admit to it. They may be kidding themselves but they're not kidding me.

You might think I'm only referring to marital relationships but that is not true. I've been in this place with friends, children and parents. Okay, truthfully, with the parent thing, it's only my mother because my father lets her do the dirty work. This does not make him weak; it makes him smart. I could not hang up on him but my mother and I have moved it to an art form. It's not an offense -- one of us immediately calls back.

I think this is one of the greatest gifts you can give a child. The ability to speak his or her mind, the ability to apologize, the ability to stand back and realize where the fault may be. The ability to argue a position and make the case.

In my childhood, I was allowed to disagree. I was allowed to make my case. Sometimes I won and sometimes I lost but I learned to do it respectfully.

Neither of my parents are attorneys, nor am I. But, they would've served our judicial system well.

The Age Old Debate

It's interesting that the nomination of Sarah Palin as a vice presidential candidate has reignited the debate about whether women can have it all: marriage, career, family. Of course I have an opinion but in the interest of full disclosure:

I have never run for public office.
I have never sought power, only a decent living and recognition for work well done.
I have never had a pregnant teenage daughter.
I have never had a "special needs" child. (I hate this term. Show me the child that doesn't have special needs.)
I have never put my career ahead of my family but maybe I should have.
I have never said goodbye to a child headed off to serve our country in a foreign land.
I don't own a gun and I've never shot a moose.

I have almost zero in common with Sarah Palin. It doesn't stop me from studying her. And as a feminist, I admire lots of women, on both sides of the political arena, who choose to serve in government positions. It looks dreadful to me.

We had an interesting debate the other night. A group of people, fresh from seeing our friend sworn into a federal judgeship, talking about the election and the candidates. It got a little animated.

Vice presidents serve in different ways. Some are confidants and trusted advisers. Others are sent to state funerals and marking time in case the president dies.

The debate rages on. I think some women do have it all but they have a strong support network and we never cover the sacrifices they have made.

Frankly, the little I know about Sarah Palin's life exhausts me. But I'm watching.

Having a Spell

Last week, I met with several friends -- the workout girls. We were celebrating three birthdays and catching up on the various things in our lives. Just because my oldies are gone doesn't mean I'm not in touch with Oldieville. Some are facing surgery, some are hanging on in homes, some are waiting for the next shoe to drop. I look around at this girlfriend group and I'm certain they are willing to pick up the pieces.

We're all good friends, good daughters, good wives, good mothers/stepmothers. We all put on the chameleon suit and rise to the occasion. I looked around the table and realized that all of these women spend their days asking clients, friends, children, parents and friends: "What do you need; how can I help?" Then, she digs in and does it.

Big Sal's husband was hospitalized. Our doctor (saint-in-training) ran a battery of tests. He's probably healthier than 90 percent of the population.

She called us and said, "Pour me a margarita. He's just having a spell."

Smart women know when to stop coddling. They know when the coast is clear, your best course of action might be some laughter and a margarita with some friends.

His Honor

I'm a peon swimming in a sea of impressive people. I realize there are many traits that make people impressive but for now, I'm talking professional achievement.

On Friday, the husband and I joined many friends to watch The Honorable William T. Lawrence sworn in as a United States District Judge. I watched him sworn in as a state judge in 2002 but this is federal and it's a huge accomplishment. It involves:

Being nominated by the President.
Going before the Senate for confirmation.
Having a background check that sounds intrusive and invasive.

I suspect it also includes:

Sleepless nights where you evaluate every decision you've ever made and every dumb thing you've ever done.

Every dignitary I could bring to mind was there: the governor, the sheriff, the head of the Indiana Supreme Court and many others. Our esteemed senior senator, Richard Lugar, spoke on his behalf.

If you've ever been in a courtroom, most of them are quite bland. It's nothing like you see on "Law and Order." Our federal courthouse is quite majestic and would make a great movie set. Picture "A Few Good Men." Now bump it up a notch. It's that beautiful and a little overwhelming.

It was a great balance of toasts to his accomplishments and laughs about his height. No one lets his head get too big, not that there was ever any fear of that. When his wife participated in the swearing in and then put the robe on for the first time, I cried. I heard a few sniffles behind me.

My friend Billy is now a United States District Judge. When we meet at the club or a group dinner, I always say, "Hello, Your Honor."

To know him is my honor.

Seven Years

In one of my favorite books, "Nineteen Minutes," by Jodi Picoult, she opens with a few sentences about what can happen in nineteen minutes. Some are frivolous and some are profound.

Today is the seventh anniversary of the most devastating terrorist attack on American soil. I'm applying the same logic. In seven years, I've been through the mundane and the scary and the heartbreaking. So have you. Such is life.

Seven years ago:

I had a different dog. Also a maniac.
I had the same husband, the same parents and the same friends.
The baby was 13-years old and had no clue of the magnitude of that day.
I did not turn off the television for one solid week.
The oldies lived in Mississippi and they were those in-laws I visited once or twice a year.

During the past seven years:

I've lost several friends to cancer, car accidents and plain ol' old age.
I've cheered the baby through high school and caught a glimpse of the incredible man he is becoming.
I've held hands with someone having a biopsy and I've had my hand held.
I've witnessed marriages and divorces and welcomed new babies into my circle of love.
I've reconnected with some old friends.
I've screwed up. A lot. Repeatedly.
I've watched attorneys become judges and other people grow businesses.
I welcomed the oldies into our home and learned about love, loyalty and stubbornness.

I've become older, grayer and hopefully smarter. I think my heart has grown. And I will stop today to acknowledge the people who did not get the chance to grow older, grow grayer and welcome new babies.

Fliers

When I was a cheerleader, they did not use this term. When both my goddaughters did it, they were fliers.

Fliers stand at the top of the pyramid and count on the people below to catch them. Fliers get tossed around. In their 40s, fliers get picked up by big men and swung around the dance floor. Fliers are the little people who get pulled under the table.

College football was massive in my day. We had a crummy team but we were there supporting our guys. I hope they don't do this anymore but it was normal for some big guy to pick me up and start passing me through the stands. I loved all these guys and for a wimp like me, I was never scared.

I've always had big guys to save me.

Hey Buddy

Yesterday I dealt with a plumber for a couple of hours. There's always something in need of repair in this house.

Every company wants to sell you a service contract. It doesn't matter if it's a plumber, exterminator, carpet cleaner, heating/cooling company or any other home repair service. We all know that is how they make the most money and I try to work the numbers. That usually involves following them around with a calculator which for some reason makes them nervous.

My plumber yesterday was selling the "Buddy Plan." If you join the Buddy plan, they waive the $89 service call charge. They also advertise that they will match any other plumber's offer, plus 10 percent. (I scoured the Sunday paper and the Yellow Pages -- I found one for $100 off any service.)

The young man who was servicing my water heater and toilets was amused. He said, "You're toying with me."

There are lots of seasonal checks that come with the Buddy plan. You get discounts on service. Then he said, "If you're a Buddy and you call in for service, you automatically go to the top of the list. You are guaranteed service the same day."

Sign me up! I'm all about priority service. I like to be first in line.

I hope I don't have plumbing problems for a while but if I do, I'm going to call and say, "Hey Buddy! Get over here now."

Big Sal

My friend, Big Sal, was honored this weekend. Her husband and family threw her a big, splashing bash for her 60th birthday. 60 is the new 40 and she doesn't even look 40. As usual, I'm surrounded by freaks of nature -- and she's a natural beauty -- no Joan Rivers plan involved.

She's also crazy. She has crashed more cars than I can count. She put the wrong gas (regular instead of diesel) in her husband's company vehicle. She lost some diamond earrings and convinced that one of her dogs may have eaten them, she spent days checking their poop and having them x-rayed. I don't want to know what that cost.

On her actual birthday, she brought tiaras to the pool on Labor Day and girlfriends walked around with crowns. She is the accessory queen. We all got plastic tiaras but she found a great crown in a second hand store, complete with rhinestones. She also provided boas. She is my shopping guru.

The husband and I showed up at the party, ready to salute our friend. We knew most people but I found it interesting that the first person we met at the top of the stairs was our governor.

She may giggle like a schoolgirl or make us all laugh. She's got friends in high places. Mostly, she shows me what it's like to embrace life, embrace friends and family, and show the rest of us how to balance dignity and abandon.

At the pool on Labor Day, Big Sal was flipping and diving off the board. I did too. (It's a rule that I have to do it at least once a year.)

Once I admired a jacket she was wearing. She gave it to me. She bought it at the Goodwill and she'll find another one.

We call her Big Sal although she is tiny. The "Big" part is a reflection of her spirit and her heart.

The Sophomore Year

The baby is back in school. It's his sophomore year and I am jealous. I think the sophomore year is the most fun -- none of that freshman panic and none of the junior and senior year pressures. Here's what's great:

You know your way around.
You've made new friends that you can't wait to see again.
You have a better understanding of your own study habits and how to accomplish your goals.
You're not low man on the totem pole -- freshmen seek your advice.

The pictures above are from the first night of returning to school for my sophomore year. We spent the summer apart, working our little jobs and doing family things. On that night, we all agreed we mostly spent the summer counting down the days until we could be back together. We did not have email or cell phones. No one had ever heard of texting because it hadn't been invented yet. So, we got through the summer and when we met up again, we danced.

In the movie, "Groundhog's Day," Bill Murray lives the same day over and over. If I could live one year over and over again, it would be my sophomore year of college.

What If?

I have always considered myself a good student. I used to self-assign homework. That does not mean I am capable of teaching myself. I much prefer to follow smart people and soak up their knowledge.

My Internet connection went out on Friday. I plugged and unplugged. I went a little crazy. Then I resigned myself to the fact that it would not be fixed until after the weekend.

Years ago I was on a magazine assignment and I had the honor of interviewing some very talented and accomplished people. One was Scott Jones who invented voicemail. (This is not a lofty statement like Al Gore inventing the Internet -- Scott Jones actually received several patents for this idea.)

Here's when I figured out that I will never be that smart or make a b'jillion dollars with an idea. He told me a story and I'll boil it down to this:

In college, he had a fascination with computers. (He's my age so please remember that the memory on your cell phone used to take up an entire building.)

He took out a teensy classified ad in a national magazine asking for people to send their old computers to him.

He convinced his parents to turn their basement into a laboratory.

He took them apart and put them back together until he completed the puzzle.

He jotted idea after idea. He plugged away until he understood.

During our interview he pointed to a pile of notebooks. He will not run out of ideas.

He's started several more companies and received several more patents.

Being a good student is a good idea. The smartest people I meet also combine that with asking, "What if ..?"

Oh, I Could Never Tell My Parents That!

In my childhood, my mother was the Sergeant and I was the private-in-training. She took this job seriously and I am grateful. We tangled, we fussed and we certainly had our years of tussles.

I'm not sure how she did it. She let me go from the child she was responsible for to a friend. To his credit, my father was and is a great buffer.

Lots of my friends are close with their parents. They love them and care for them. I try to do the same and I know I make them crazy sometimes. My mother still falls into drill Sergeant mode and I still become the rebellious child. (This is usually when one of us hangs up.)

We have our own version of communication. If I do something stupid or embarrassing, I tell my mother and she tells my father. If I'm scared, I do not hesitate to tell them. If I'm angry, I like to tell my mother because I'm convinced she has some magical powers and maybe she can put the whammy on them.

We're all clued in that we talk about each other. If I'm with my father, my mother is certain we are dissecting her. When she says to me, "your father and I were talking last night." I get a little nervous. My father gave up long ago -- he knows we discuss him.

I've tried to figure out how this works and I think it comes down to brutal honesty and wacky humor. When my father had a bad reaction (not life-threatening) to a medication last week, my mother described it to me in detail. I laughed so hard the husband was considering CPR.

Drunk on Air

My father and I used to have dates to go out to dinner. For the last few weeks, our dates have been going to the doctor. He had sinus surgery last week and we were all anxious to know the results.

I tagged along for my father's post-surgery appointment. In the parking lot, he commented that he was almost light-headed. With open nasal passages and sinuses, breathing is a whole new experience.

He said, "If this is what breathing is supposed to feel like, I don't know what I've been doing all these years."

Actual Sentences Said to Me

This has been a weird year and we're only three quarters of the way through it.

It started in January when the Belle made it clear, in actions and in words, that she was done. She wanted to die and I believe she willed herself to die.

The Captain was a lost sailor without her. He would often tell me or the husband that he wanted to die. He did.

A friend told me that she's reevaluating her life and doesn't need friends.

My father said he wasn't feeling well. In my opinion, he was receiving inadequate medical care. I jumped in and now I'm sure my parents want to knock me out of the way.

The husband told me the other night that we need a new adventure. I'm not sure what planet he comes from but my life is already an adventure. I want him healthy and happy. I want my parents healthy. I want the baby to excel in college. I want my girlfriends to be able to take a deep breath without worrying about children, parents, grandchildren, etc.

Someone said to me, "I don't like your husband sometimes." If there's a person that you like 100 percent, all the time -- my bet is that you don't know that person very well.

One Syllable

I consider myself pretty well-versed.

Then, those southern roots sprout. If the dog jumps on me, I yell, "Yee ow ooh." The husband reminds me that this word (yow!) only has one syllable.

If I'm frustrated, I often say, "Day am it." I mean "Damn it."

"Ouch" becomes "Yee ow itch."

"Down" becomes "Dow uhn." And "Sit" becomes "See it!"

The maniac dog responds better when I turn on the southern charm.

Teenage Pregnancy

John McCain's choice as the vice presidential candidate, Sarah Palin, has five children. The oldest is in the military and going to be deployed soon. The youngest was born in April and has Down's Syndrome. In addition to being governor of Alaska, she has her hands full with family obligations.

A few days ago, it came out that her 17-year old daughter is 5-months pregnant. The governor is a staunch advocate of abstinence. Someone at home wasn't buying it.

This may or may not be the public's business but in this day and age, nothing stays secret for long. I have never been a pregnant teenager nor have I been the parent of a pregnant teenager. Another bullet dodged. Of course, I did walk around muttering, "Use a condom" a lot.

In my day if a teenager got pregnant, it was an accident. It was a stigma. Some of today's teens think of this as a viable life choice. As adults we know that teen pregnancy often results in:

less education and fewer job options
poverty
less insurance, thus less medical care
loss of youth; loss of dreams
frustration and sometimes abuse

The official statement said the Palin family is proud of her for choosing to have her baby and she plans to marry the baby's father. With teenage pregnancies, there are success stories and there are horror stories.

I'm a proponent of abstinence but come on, that's easy for me to say. I'm married. I haven't been a teenager for a long time. I'm also a proponent of realistic thinking. Some teenagers are going to have sex. They need to know the health and emotional risks. They need to protect themselves.

There are two childhoods at risk: the teenager and the baby that will come into this world.

Power

There's an old saying:

Power comes from three things -- love, words and the sea. Great care should be taken because they can cause joy or grief, salvation or destruction.

I'm drawn to this because it covers three of my favorite things. But, I know power comes in other forms too.

There's nothing wrong with power. People run companies, run countries, run families. These are all powerful positions. I am a control freak but it's mainly toward myself. I don't crave power but I seem to be attracted to it.

I have seen and lived the power of love.
I have used the power of words to heal and to harm.
The power of the sea (or water in general) overwhelms me.

Today I'm going to use my power in a positive way.