MY EMPTY CHAIR

A very powerful photo of reflection snapped as the sun began to set on December 25th.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2023

 

The year twenty-twenty three, though a great year for me professionally,  was also one of staggering loss. Between the people unexpectedly passing, combined with my moving on from those that weren't good for my mental health, saw that final tally exceptionally high.

I'm not exactly sure why, but from a young age, death and great loss has always affected me to my core. 

Part of me wonders if it is attributed to the fact that my parents had me later in life, and I began experiencing death at a younger age than most. I lost my fathers' father and mothers' mother less that three months apart. It was the fall I started grade five; and it hasn't stopped since.

I think the fact that I nursed both of my parents (in palliative homecare) to their deaths by the time I was forty, then lost my very first love unexpectedly at forty three, had something in my mindset give way. I remember the exact moment I made the personal decision to unapologetically live my life to its fullest. To which I have.

This past Christmas, as the house filled with all the smells that represent the holiday season, I paused before I took my photo to say a quick prayer for every single one - living or dead that parted this year.

Whether you agree or not, I believe you truly suffer the stages of grief for both. With acceptance being the final part of the framework that makes up our learning to live with the those we've lost. 

If I am being totally honest, I suppose that is what my empty chair actually represents for me.

...Acceptance.

SMILING WITH MY DAD

Technically a 2nd cousin we consider her a neice.
We truly consider her father my husbands' brother.
TAKEN: JULY 23rd, 2023

In my life thus far, I have had the privilege to come in contact and get to know an above average number of people; and none compare to this sweet girl my husband proudly calls his 'very favourite cuz!'  (Slang for cousin.)

Due to multiple neurological surgeries as a toddler, she's technically classified as developmentally disabled - but I swear, if everyone on earth had her optimistic outlook toward others, the world would definitely be a much better place.

Anyway, home to do chores Sunday, in late afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table and I could hear someone calling my name from afar. As I looked over my shoulder out to the street I glimpsed a grin from ear to ear. There she was, her arms waving with excitement that she would get to stop by for a visit.

When we arrived outside she noticed my Petro Canada glass I had in hand. She commented that it was pretty and I told her the stories about my collecting them. She curiously asked me, "did I ever meet your dad?" She continued, "do you think he remembered meeting me?" So into the house I went to get the photo albums.

Pictures of our families camping at my dad cottage. Photos of her mom (which we lost to cancer in 2004) with her dad and siblings, all of us having a blast with my dad. She loved looking at all the photos and said she enjoyed my husband and I reminiscing.

Then came the big moment. I asked her to have a drink of Sprite with my dad. 'It's tradition', I said. She was elated. 

As she stood behind her bike and held up her glass, he tone became particularly firm and serious.

Make sure you hold the camera up on an angle from above.... she said. 'I don't want people to see my double chin.'

A beautiful heart and soul that also knows how to take a proper selfie. Not gonna lie, I was shocked that in the moment she directed me so specifically - but just look at that smile. The photo is absolutely gorgeous.

Just like her!!

H IS FOR HEMMINGWAY HOUSE

As we approach the first anniversary of my best friend Smarties' death, I can't help but focus on our last phone call. 

He loved Earnest Hemmingway's writing and made me make him two promises before we told each other we loved each other and hung up that very last time:

1) That I'd go to Hemmingway House before I left Key West (and)

2) That I would read EH's offering titled Africa; as it was his personal favourite.

I did go to the home/museum the very next day, and it was an amazing step back in time.

From the approximately sixty six toed cats (descendants of his originals) that the estate caters to, to the luxurious inground pool that cost $20,000 to construct in 1938, to the wide offering of historic Hollywood memorabilia on display; I was in awe. 

Once again, Smartie was right. I needed to go. 

Not only was it $9.00 very well spent, I can always look back at my photos of that day and hear his voice kicking my ass to reassure him that I would go.

With regards to the book. I haven't read it yet.

... But I have promised myself I eventually will. When I'm ready.

One of the six toed cats at the ticket booth.
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

Only so many were allowed in at one time.
As you can see, there are cats everywhere.
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

I didn't pay to tour with a guide. I started by walking the grounds.
Yes, there is a pet cemetery for his cats.
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

A portrait in one of the many rooms displaying memorabilia.
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

Some rooms are dedicated to his specific offering and the history behind it.
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

I found his writing studio the most interesting. 
TAKEN: APRIL 8th, 2022

A statue of him in a park in Mallory Square (with other famous settlers)
TAKEN: APRIL 7th, 2022

G IS FOR GRANDPARENTS

 

Seen here with my dads parents, my truly amazing grandparents.

My Mommy knit my sweater. I LOVED that purple thing.
This photo confirms that I was clearly born to be a Prince fan!
TAKEN: Spring 1973

I was born in a very small town, just across the Ontario border, in western Quebec. 

It was a small pulp and paper town, where the majority of my extended family grew up. More importantly, it was where both sets of my parents parents lived only a few miles apart.

I had a great childhood. With such vivid memories imbedded in my head before we moved to Ontario. Oh the wonderful memories I have of 222 2nd Avenue.

Spending time in the lane with my Pepere as chickadees landed on his hat and then he ultimately had them eating from his hand. Him teaching me to stepdance as he played from a fiddle he had in fact crafted himself. 

And that my Memere, always let me stand by her side at the stove explaining her process for what she was making. Her letting me shake the flour mixture to help her make gravy stands out the most. 

So much so,  that every time I watch my mother-in-law embrace the same process, my childhood in that kitchen comes rushing back to me.

Let's face it. I know those things may read as simple, but their love was heartfelt and I think they are one of the reasons that I have never had issue showing affection as an adult. 

I suppose there is a possibility they were just pacifying a gregarious kid - but if that was the case, they never let on. 

And for that... I have always been truly grateful.

REMEMBERING 2022

I don’t know about you, but I am happy to shut the door on the past year and look to the coming year with a genuine amount of hope and sincere optimism. 

Personally, it has felt like I have been in mourning for the majority of the year. I didn’t write nearly as much as I had hoped because my heart was absolutely aching with both hurt and despair. Trust me, in spite of my mantra, it hasn't been something I would ever be able to laugh about.

Professionally, after taking the last three months of 2022 off to help my husband heal from a life saving surgery, I started the year with a new career challenge that has proven to be an excellent move for me. As I look toward retirement, I love that I am mentoring and team building with an amazing group of young, very upwardly mobile, professionals. 

With the past year in the rearview, I have great hope for 2023. All the best in the coming year everyone. Cheers, and thanks once again for reading. 

~ Rhondi

PS: For the first time, for my annual 'remembering' post, as I reminisce electronically, you can click links to journal offerings that you may have missed.

PSS: Enjoy!

Most significant moment (centre): The sudden passing of my closest friend and confidant, Brian ‘Smartie’ Smart. Who left us Easter weekend 2022. I am truly heartbroken, and the loss of his presence will be missed forever.

January: A snapshot from the desk of my new job. A refreshing challenge I have loved, to which I said to my boss on our last conversation before the holiday break, "look what you and I have accomplished in our first year. I can't wait to see where we land after our second!" 

(Link: Leapin' Life Balance)

February: Knowing my wonderful Puddin' was living on borrowed time, my husband and I spent Family Day (aka: Family Furbaby Day) at the cottage with 'The Oreo Gang' . It was the beginning of the end of an era. 

(Link: The Oreo Gang)

March: As the carpool picked up Goob to head to work in Port Cariling, the glow of the sunrise lit up the car. I got out of the car to capture this moment. We enjoyed a beautiful month of March.

April: For the first time since November 2019 we were able to travel. We flew into Miami then took a roadtrip to Key West. Smartie called me to wish me a Happy Birthday, and made me promise to go to the Hemmingway house, which I did the very next day. We talked for an hour, said our always call ending 'I love you and I love you too'. He was dead a week later. 

(Link: S is for Smartie)

May: The month saw the beginning of house as well as cottage renovations. Both took until the end of November to complete. Much more to do in 2023.

June: My beautiful Puddin' succumbed to her cancer. She was my very best furbaby friend. Our Annie was so affected by the loss that we had to stop saying her name. My life just isn't the same without her.

July: I surprised my husband with a road trip to the town of Bethel (where the Woodstock Festival was held in 1969) and then through the Catskill Mountains to the town of Woodstock New York for his birthday. For music lovers like us, it was both a moving and Bucket List experience.

August: We had a heat wave that was crazy off the charts producing extreme heat warnings. It was so hot, that we were in the water more than out. We felt like kids again! 

(Link: My Happy Hat)

September: They say everything comes in threes, and I had three that were major for me personally. First Smartie, then Puddin', then lastly my beautiful Auntie Cai. I credit a lot of who I am today to her and her life guidance. I miss her very much and always will. 

(Link: In her memory ~ Sweet Dreams of Cairo)

October: Our third roadtrip had us take our pups on a more than two thousand mile round trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We rented a house that slept twelve on the ocean that was perfect. If you've never been.... GO!

(Link: Outer Banks Paw Patrol)

November: Yours truly celebrated a personal milestone with the 11th Anniversary of my wee electronic journal. In hindsight, maybe I should have named it 'Silly Story Central!?!' #yagottalaughaboutit 

(Link: Eleven Years Young)

December: A photo just can't illustrate the amount of snowfall we received in Muskoka that began the evening of December 23rd. So much so, that the massive dumping felt like we should have been placed in a State of Emergency. The photo in my collage was day two of four that were brutal. 

Link: Our Great Neighbourhood)

OUR GREAT NEIGHBOURHOOD

Our motto: If you can’t do great things, do small things in a great way.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 26th, 2022

 Well, we woke up this Boxing Day morn and it was still snowing. 

Thank goodness my father-in-law lives only two streets away, and our record breaking ‘Snowmageddon’ stopped long enough that our family gathering wasn’t cancelled last minute; because he was very close to calling it off.

Filled with great food and good cheer, we headed to bed just after midnight, with the general intention that we would sleep in. Well, the holiday Gods and our canine cohorts had other plans for us.

With little motivation and the pups primed to play, I focused on preparing a fresh pot of coffee. My man then settled downstairs to watch curling and I in the living room tackling a jigsaw puzzle. All I can say is that I knew after three days straight of snow removal, I did NOT want to shovel today!

Anyway, as I have acknowledged here before, we live in a sleepy little town where everything is a fifteen-minute walk and a five-minute drive. We’ve owned our home and lived at this same address for more than twenty years. 

Though we tend to be somewhat private people, we live in an amazing neighbourhood of likeminded peeps that embrace a true sense of community.

When my husband was medically bound to use a walker last fall, it was my neighbour to the left (whose home you see above) that arrived from work on a Friday night and immediately fired up his gas-powered leaf blower on steroids to give a gal a hand to ensure our end of season cleanup could be completed. 

So, knowing we were experiencing record breaking snow fall levels, my husband announced we would repay his good will. Not because it would be expected... but more for these eight little words. 

Would you want to come home to that? 

Happy Holidays everyone - and remember to always pay it forward. Because a small gesture from you, could make the world of difference to someone else.

#thatisall

SMARTIE MEMORIES IN NOVEMBER

Smartie getting a driving lesson from his grandson.
TAKEN: AUGUST 27th, 2021

I am sitting at my home office desk and a wave of varying emotion just hit. 

It is 3:52pm and gloomier than usual outside.

I can hear the wind howling and my phone is buzzing with severe weather warnings and the radio's been boasting cancelations all afternoon. All of it reminding me what the next few weeks will offer, which is absolutely nothing special.

As my hump day workday ends, my mind began to wonder. Tomorrow is Thursday. And as I have each week since that terrible day last April, I realized that I won’t be getting my weekly call from Smartie tomorrow; or ever again.

I remember the day we met. It was in April of 2004 and we hit it out of the park from the get-go. Both working in manufacturing, we stayed on straight evenings so that we could save big dollars on daycare. An eighteen year friendship, that ended with his death on almost the same day in April that it started.

That said, as I type, it’s like I am stuck. Whenever I mention him to others in passing, I instantly tear up. Which is immediately followed by an apology disclosing, “I just can’t seem to get over his death.”

I feel a true emptiness, and all these months later his absence is still raw. Each time I get try to process why, I wonder if it could be because I wasn’t offered proper closure. 

Because, for obvious reasons, I wasn’t invited to his intimate private service. 

I could make excuses, but the truth of the matter is that I disliked his wife in high school and absolutely detested her by the time their marriage ended. Not looking to expand on why, other than to say he was my friend, and she was not. Either way, he’s gone and I truly miss him.

As I stop typing and glance out the window, I see the snow is now blowing on a 45 degree angle. 

I guess I should get my ass into the kitchen, get some grub going, and feed the pups while we still have hydro.

Once again, thanks for listening to me blather.

SWEET DREAMS OF CAIRO

This photo is worth more than a hundred thousand words.
It genuinely exudes my love for her.
Caroline (Caï) Perrault (née Marceau)
TAKEN in: MATTAWA ONTARIO 1983

There is no other way to share this, other than to say that my Auntie Cai was unequivocally one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my entire life, and today I had to say goodbye. She was 89.

Growing up, my aunt was a beloved mother of her four children whom she cherished. 

And, as silly as this may be read, I have always thought of myself as her fifth. Then, this afternoon, I realized that those of us that thought our ourselves as her special extra 'plus one' were in the hundreds. 

A well respected teacher for more than four decades, she guided yours truly, as well as all of her students like the great beacon she was.  

Growing up, no matter what I had happening in my life, my aunt was always an anchor for me. Providing unconditional inspiration and endless encouragement, not to mention a calm wisdom to the somewhat harsh realities that surrounded me.

In my formative years, my summers on Lake Temiscaming were most memorable when my cousins (whom I truly deem siblings) were at the camp next door. 

I remember the first grand-baby shower, I remember the first big job offer, and most importantly their guys embracing my now husband as one of their own from the time I brought him around. Most of all, I remember how being in their company, felt like I was home.

That said, just like many, we see most family members at weddings and funerals. 

As we gathered after mass today to celebrate her life, I asked the quorum around me how she ended up being called Cai, where her first name was Caroline?

My cousin Tootsie answered immediately. "When she was my teacher, she told us that she always talked constantly about how she wanted to visit Cairo, the largest city in Egypt.” The nickname stuck.

As I share a picture of she and I, my eyes fill with tears. Damn, this pretty lady literally made a difference in my life!

Rest easy and sweet dreams my love. You definitely helped mould me into the person I am today. You will be loved and missed forever by all who had the pleasure to meet and know you.

Don’t forget to say hi to mom, dad, uncle Vic, and all the others in your company. Bring them up to speed about what we've been up to. 

Please let them all know... We will always miss them too. xoxo 

V IS FOR VICTORY

On our recent trip to Key West, we took in a popular tourist trap simply called “Robbie's” in Islamorda.

I had watched the destination being featured on several must-see attractions on YouTube, so we planned to stop in on our way back to Miami. The experience did NOT disappoint.

This school of more than a hundred tarpon linger for hours at the hope of being hand fed. They actually rise out of the water to grab the fish as it leaves your hand. My husband braved the activity, I watch and took pictures; but had a blast just the same.

Now you’d think the tarpon would be the main attraction, but it was the ornery pelicans. Both bold and somewhat aggressive in nature, they not only steal the fish, but they also definitely steal the show. 

The VICTORY was theirs!

Here are a few pics of our fun adventure.

The lunch lineup
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

My husband feeding the tarpon (close up)
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

I tried to warn him there was incoming!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

They have no fear!!
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

A fun $2.50 to get in and $4.75 for the bucket of fish. Good times....
TAKEN: APRIL 9th, 2022

U IS FOR UNDERSTANDING

In memory of my best friend that passed away Easter Sunday 2022
TAKEN: AUGUST 28th, 2021

 

S IS FOR SMARTIE

One of my best friends passed away on Easter Sunday. Though we were separated by thousands of miles, we spoke on the phone at least once a week. He was mere fifty six years of age.

My avid readers will recognize his name as well as his photo, as he has appeared in several journal posts over the years (even has his own label). All very raw and still in shock, I am struggling to deal with the loss. 

As a result, I have decided to share what his oldest and dearest childhood friend "Howie" posted for him on the exact day my letter S was due. 

I think it paints a perfect picture of this wonderful man. The words brought me to both tears of laughter as well as deep sadness. Words can not describe how much I will miss him.

Rest in peace Smartie. Keep my seat next to you warm and your wit razor sharp....Until we meet again.

Love you always xoxo ~ Rhondi

I miss my buddy

He’s gone.  That’s what his ex-wife said to me when I answered the phone the evening of Easter Sunday.

All who knew Brian entered a new world in that moment.

So far, that world is one of shock, disbelief, boundless sadness and equally boundless gratitude; feelings all common in the wake of the loss of loved one. The shock, disbelief and sadness will settle.  The gratitude for all he brought to my world, will remain forever.

His laughter was matched only by his ability to make others laugh.

At the end of grade 7, we went on a class camping trip to Bass Lake Provincial Park.  As far as we could tell, our teacher, modeled his classroom management style after Joseph Stalin. From the perspective of a bunch of dumb, gangly 12-year-old boys, he was mean.

The camping area was a large, rectangular field. Perfect to ensure boys tents lined the perimeter of one side, girls on the other.

In line with our teacher’s overall approach, there was a seemingly endless list of rules. Among them, very precise direction as to when all were required to be in tents and very ominous threats of consequences if not.

As 12-year-olds we had yet to develop much in the way of foresight and probably worse, we had yet to develop any awareness of our limits in that regard.  Despite the dire warnings we came up with, what we believed at the time, was an airtight plan. Immediately after sunset and tent check, we’d leave our tents, bolt across the field under the cover of darkness and visit our classmates with the utmost confidence that none of this would stir even a hint of suspicion. 

Once darkness set in, tent checks complete, the zippers of 16 tents rang out and the charge was on. 

Almost instantly the flaw in our planning was exposed.  Who would think that teachers would patrol the tents after dark? Clearly 12-year-old boys didn’t.

Thankfully almost every one of us detected the flaw immediately, dove back in our tents, with adrenaline surging but safe from suffering the wrath of our teacher supervisors.

Everyone, that is, but Brian.

Peeking through our tent doors, there he was. His silhouette like a gazelle, bounding on an open plane, all on his own, in the dark, cool, damp, spring air completely oblivious to his solitude.

It turns out that teachers must develop an extraordinary capacity to identify 12-year-old running boys in the dark of night.

But as Brian’s luck would have it, that wasn’t his biggest problem.

In a highly predictable twist of fate, the world’s most fearsome teacher spotted him immediately. We cringed as we heard him yell: “Smart, where are you going?”

At that moment, the magnitude of Brian’s initial mistake compounded significantly.  For instead of responding with something like, “I’m just running to the bathroom”, he chose instead to announce, with a completely misplaced sense of sarcasm, at the top of his lungs, “I’m going to an orgy”.

And to make matters much worse, as he was sometimes known to do, he added, “where the fuck do you think I’m going, you asshole?”  

It was too much for 12-year-old boys. We spent years laughing about it.

And that’s what he did more than anyone I know. He laughed a lot and he helped other people laugh a lot.

Equal to his ability to make people laugh was his ability to build big friendships.  He had more best friends than anyone I know; he did it effortlessly, sincerely and happily.  He was as comfortable with his 3-year-old grandson as he was with the 93 year olds he was working with as part of his studies to become a healthcare aid. 

I will always be proud to call him my best friend as I know many others are too.

The span of his musical taste was broad. Together, we saw John Lee Hooker, The Clash, Peter Tosh, Black Uhuru, Talking Heads, The Police (actually more than the musical kind), the English Beat, Flock of Seagulls, Eric Clapton, the Hip, Nash the Slash, lost some/most of our hearing watching the Headstones at the Rivoli and watched some dude throw a banana 125 meters and land right at the feet of Joan Jett - an act of athletic prowess I have yet to witness again.

But his greatest achievement is undoubtedly his family. His son, daughters and his wonderful grandson; they featured prominently and lovingly in virtually every single conversation. Each of his kids inherited his greatest attributes. 

Among the many things uniting the human experience is our frailty. None of us live perfect lives. We all deal with challenges. 

All of us, in our own way, do the very best we can to accommodate those challenges. 

We love our families and friends and care for our communities, our country and the planet.  We count on those we love in our time of need.

This was especially true of Brian.

I am grateful for every second he lived his life.  

I will miss him for as long as I live mine.

N IS FOR NATURALLY

When you have the luxury of something and you decide to let it go, naturally you miss it. Some things more than others, yet I feel great childhood memories always linger and ultimately stay ingrained in us forever. 

Being the youngest of four, ideally I got to spend the most time at my Uncle Louis Camp on the beautiful shores of Lake Temiscaming. 

Built in the mid-fifties, the shelter was a mere 650 sq.ft. but the shoreline and property were perfect. It was never used very much, that was until I entered my 'tween' years and my parents began using it in the summer; rather than renting two weeks in the Ottawa Valley. 

I remember the day Auntie Andy took this photo. A great weekend and us so very happy.
Not quite pregnant with the twins... NOR had I discovered need for quality hair care products!
TAKEN: MAY 1991

They agreed (my dad and his eldest brother) that instead of paying rent, my dad would spend his time and money doing upgrades. A win-win for both - and when he passed, my uncle left the property and its contents to my dad.

My last couple of summers in high school, we lived there every weekend. 

The rents would pick me up at the rink in North Bay and we would head east across the border into Quebec.  (My mother’s brother had a camp next door and my father’s sister was just a wee bit further up the lake.)

I believe it was those amazing summers that helped shape me into who I am today. 

We always worked through the day as there was no television, and some Saturday nights there were at least ten of us playing a board game around Auntie's table next door. My mother was as fiercely competitive then, as I am today.  

Over those years, my cousins next door evolved into my sisters, and to this day I cherish all of their children, as I have watched them marry and raise their own families.

As an aside, we did offer to buy my dad out in the late 1990's (he was welcome to stay until he died) and he turned us down. Less than two months later, we bought in Muskoka. 

Just fifteen minutes from our home, we were blessed to offer our children the same shelter I had been given surrounded by loyal friends.  To this day, we still own it but that doesn't stop me from reminiscing. 

... About the first summer we had propane lights, the summer we hand drilled the well with a sledgehammer, or the first time I didn't have to jump in the lake because Poppa put an indoor shower in. Oh, and the fact that we conceived our children there.

All, such amazing and truly vibrant, life long memories! 

M IS FOR MERRIMENT

As I have written here before it takes more effort to frown than smile. 

Christmas morning fun - seven years ago. Look how little my beautiful Annie is?
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2014

Like a lot of people I know, I have previously struggled with depression. It first appeared and was identified post-partum after Jukebox was born but as the years went on and I conquered the worst of it, I am always aware it could be lurking around the corner.

As a result, I have always been very open in our home about the importance of personal mental health, and as my children entered adulthood and real-life struggles appeared, I was always asking if they wanted to speak to someone outside our core.

I believe advocacy is critical because I had about a year and a half of extensive psychotherapy when the children were small, and during that time, my Psychotherapist armed me with a toolbox of solutions that I still use today. As a result, to this day I am forever grateful to her.

I know in society today that medications usually win as a solution over root cause analysis, but for me, I wanted to understand why I didn’t feel like myself so I took a deep dive and have never been on any type of medication except Advil since leaving her sessions almost twenty years ago.

So, when I was aptly reminded that Dickens wrote that 'Christmas was the season of hospitality, merriment and open-heartedness.' I instantly knew that this was the photo I wanted to share for this letter.

Photographic proof that we truly are all aboard the mental health MERRIMENT train. 

It's just how we love to roll!!

E IS FOR EVERLASTING

Knowing I was leaving on a jet plane and not wanting to fret about finding free time, I worked at pre-choosing certain words. So imagine my surprise when going through my external hard drive last week, I came across this beautiful image offering the perfect inspiration. 

One of our early ocean adventure with my lifelong friend (and guardian angel).
TAKEN: APRIL 1994

I apologize the resolution is so low, as I believe this is a picture of a picture taken many years ago. I also recall it was gifted to me the following Christmas after we took this trip in a frame. So, this image was truly what our generation considered to be 'a Kodak moment'. 

Auntie Andy (as our children refer to her) moved in across the street from my dad before I got married. We'd known who the other was from high school, yet never connected until we bought the house next door to her family duplex, making her our next door neighbour; we immediately became inseparable.

She was there when I told my husband I was pregnant with Jukebox, then in turned stayed with him while my husband was with me when the twins were being delivered. Until they passed, we considered her parents, whom had great impact on how we raised our children, as an extension of our own.

As I sit her and reflect, I can’t help but feel a tad emotional. There are so many people that pop and in out of your life, and very few that stand the unconditional test of time. Which I guess gets me to thinking.

I believe I read somewhere that most people are lucky enough to have five true friends in their lifetime – but I dare to wonder what defines a true friend?

Social media has me see people that were buddies in high school sharing all the love in the claiming they love the other ‘to the moon and back’, yet behind the others back, they do nothing but complain and bitch and moan about them.

Over the years I have had a lot great friendships. Several have come and gone, primarily due to a change in circumstance. Then there are those that rise to the top and you will be unconditionally connected until you die. 

That’s Andy and I…. 

Forever embracing a true and EVERLASTING friendship for the rest of our lives.

JUKEBOX BORN DAY FUN

 

Had such a great night celebrating Jukebox's early birthday - I wanted to share.

Japanese fusion for dinner and competitive trivia for dessert.
A good time was had by all!!

To my eldest boy... All the best in 2022.
We love you very much xo
(1-r) Tam-a-Lamb, Jukebox, Baby Daddy, Goob & introducing wee Goat.

TAKEN: FEBURARY 5th, 2022

OUR HEALTHY HIATUS

 

Fun times on our last pre-lockdown vacation to Mazatlán Mexico.
Sad that (post op) travel will never be the same. BUT... We'll figure it out!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 2, 2019

Due to circumstances beyond our control, my husband took a three-month work hiatus last fall which saw me booking a prearranged block of time off with him. 

His time was for personal health reasons. Mine was to be his 'beck and call' girl, ensuring we got to keep him around with us for many more years to come.

I began my work break the day before my husband entered the hospital, and we mutually decided on day five after his surgery, that I would not be returning to my then place of employment.

That said, not to throw baby out with bathwater, I requested to take an addition three weeks of vacation time once we got home. You know, in hopes my boss wouldn’t turn out to be the greedy turd my hubby warned me he was.

Alas, when the time ran out, I lost in my true wager of hope. He won the lackluster coin toss fair and square, and as we expected I officially left the job the Friday night before I was set to return the first Monday in November.

Though you may be sensing this is going to be a dark rant about a bad boss - it isn’t.  He’s in the past and not the direction I’m going. This electronic journal post is a good news story about my husband and me.

A good news story on how we spent three life changing months, in very close proximity, essentially only in each other’s company and we didn’t kill each other… Signifying will be a successful team in retirement!

Now, for those of you that know my husband, certain phrases will always come to mind. “Great guy, amazing friend, gets along with everyone” top the list, and the list is long. The one thing I will say, is that none of those people live with him.

Just as I’m sure people that know yours truly, wonder how my hubby puts up with me, I will caution once again… you don’t live with us. I believe we work well because we have found a great balance.

At the end of the day, we have always worked hard on good communication as well as our overall friendship with each other. We married young and started our family younger than most. Yet, we were lucky to have found a rhythm that truly bonds the both of us. 

Most importantly, the rough patches are things we still discuss openly, they aren’t tucked away. As we both recognize, those times are all a part of how we have arrived at today.

Suffice to say, because of our looming circumstance over the last year, we’ve discussed our plans for retirement and what that may look like. I guess I can say that after the last three months, now we're just excited about how that eventual transition will happen. 

Which brings me to my long story/short point:

How do you know it’s your time to retire? It’s when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it!

Stay tuned. After a year, I am finally writing again... and I promise to report back on what we decide!!

S IS FOR SWEETIE

My Sweetie and me enjoying a Cafe de Monde beignets in the French Quarter, NOLA.
TAKEN: MAY 30th, 2019

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.
This was originally posted April 22nd, 2020

It was five years ago this week that my Sweetie moved home from Calgary. It pains me to remember just how emotionally spent and somewhat broken she was when we picked her up at the airport. 

She’d invested her trust and love to a person that was not only mentally unstable but extremely abusive. As silly as this may read, as a mother, the first telltale sign for me how lost she was, was that she’d dyed her beautiful long curly hair jet black.

Five years later, she's working hard at a full time job, made some exciting new friendships, not to mention nurtured and re-established solid friendships she’d left behind. More importantly, she's finally let certain people go. Those that have ultimately lied and betrayed her over and over again.

So many things come to mind for me when I look at the picture but first and foremost it tells me just how far my daughter has come. The quite, teary mouse, that returned home, has now reverted in the firecracker we know and love. 

Though there are (and probably always will be) scars, I think she realizes that her future is much brighter than the darkness that surrounded us five years ago.

H IS FOR HEARTFELT

 From the April A-Z Blogging archives.

This was originally posted April 9, 2019

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of corresponding quotes.
(With the flash of opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.) 

G IS FOR GIFT

From the Aprill A-Z Blogging archives.

This was originally posted on April 8th, 2014

Audrey Hepburn once said, “you can always tell what a man really thinks of you by the earrings he gives you.”

I have only been given one pair of earrings in my entire life. They were extravagant solitaire diamonds, and they were beautiful. I lost one about ten years ago, but the other still sits in my jewelry box to this day. They were given as a gift. An expression of love.

I have been married for almost a quarter century, and the earrings were not from my husband. My comment wasn't to share about the earrings per se, but to illustrate the fact that gifting has never been something I have a whole lot of experience with. 

My husband has never been one to land at home with a gift “just because”. However, I'll jump to his complete and unconditional defense admitting that neither have I.

April 8th, 2013 - GIFTS
Taken: Myrtle Beach SC (Xmas 1997)

In the early years it was a money thing. Today we both just find the whole gifting to each other expectation a little silly.

After all these years together, by refraining from the exercise, sometimes I wonder if that's why neither of us aren't even remotely materialistic people

When it comes to us, there's never been some underlying expectation that the next gift will out shine the last. 

We need something we buy it. We don't need it, we don't have it.

Both of us were raised to appreciate that the best gifts in life come from the heart rather than from a shopping mall. I wish I could admit that when it came to our children we didn't over indulge, but at least we always tried to make them prioritize what they desired most.

At the end of the day, the earrings may have been the most expensive gift I have ever been given, but they are nowhere near my most treasured by far. That gift, is something that I have just recently given myself.

It's called hope.

TINY BUBBLES

My electronic journal found some bizarre inspiration this morning. 

It was when the vinyl record player that is my mind kept hearing the classic 1966 Don Ho lounge lizard tune: Tiny Bubbles . (The song title is a link for those that have yet to have the pleasure.)

Now I'm sure we can all agree my chosen isn't a festive holiday tune, nor a track that plays into the whole 'reason for the season' vibe. Let's face it, as we crawl toward the end of a year so annoying it continually tripped over itself (twenty-twenty), a song about tiny bubbles within a lockdown mandate shouldn't be considered unfathomable.

My tiny bubble. Featuring my amazing Fab Five!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2020

Now, not being one to pet a cat backward just to prove I can, nor jump off the bridge downtown simply because I live in a town that has one with a cool brace over it, I would like to disclose that  months ago I decided to invested in understanding why we were being asked to live in a 'bubble' and what it actually meant. 

As a result, since being told to 'assume the position', I have not waivered from the general directive. All guidelines have been respected. All internet trolls looking to stir shit for the sake of having their voice amplified when they normally wouldn't, were heard.

At the end of the day, it's really hard to believe that it has been over nine months since everything became so hateful and unnecessarily divided. Even amongst my bubble featured here, we have agreed to disagree - leaving certain subjects abandoned and all opinions respected on every occasion.

One subject never abandoned? My obsession with taking their picture.

As a mother, I've I known for many years they hate posing and having me take their photo. I know they don't really want me to, yet cordially comply because they understand (in the end) it may be extremely important... To someone else. 

Thus making my photo taking philosophy the perfect mantra for what will make 2021 tolerable for all. 

In a nutshell? Take the high road and always play nice. 

Just like those in my tiny bubble do every time an impromptu photo op awkwardly presents itself!