Acrophobia and ancraophobia, describe the two things which frighten me the most. Acrophobia is the fear of heights. Ancraophobia is the fear of wind. I can't tell you exactly when each condition started, but I can remember the first time I felt each one. I was ten, walking home from K-Mart over the 79th Street Bridge in Bridgeview, our town on the southwest side of Chicago. The bridge went over a freight railroad track, which lead to an industrial park that became our playground of rusted railroad spikes and abandoned shipping palettes. Standing at the top of the bridge one day, with the woosh of busy traffic to my back and a speeding freight train underneath, I decided to lean as far over the railing as possible. The motion and wind from the train and the cars, coupled with my being upside down, made me so dizzy that I almost passed out. I was able to right myself, but never again was I able to walk over that bridge, or any bridge, without weak knees. Intensifying my wind fears, is the fact that I can't see wind. People laugh when I say this, but think about it. Wind comes from nowhere and can destroy instantly. It could be a beautiful sunny day, a hurricane, or anything in between. You just cannot predict the wind's force. I saw the damage caused by many tornados when I was a child. People died. The wind could kill. I knew this.
I never know when my fear will stop me cold in my tracks, or when I I'll be able to make it to my goal, wobbly knees and all. One day, I was looking at a new apartment building in Chicago which had a health club on the top floor, fifty stories in the sky. They didn't have the barricades set up yet for the outdoor pool, but asked if we wanted to see it anyway. As soon as I was outside, my legs gave out. I buckled to the ground, unable to move. I had to be carried off. I never even attempted to go to the Observation Deck at the top of the World Trade Center. I was too terrified to go near the buildings, let alone inside or on the top of them. I did manage to make it to the top of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower -- sick, nervous, and shaking the entire time. I'm not going to do it again, but I did do it.
Despite my debilitating fears, I have traveled, by plane, trying to experience as much of what the world has to offer from the man-made to the natural. Life has treated me well. I hiked the Inca Trail with it's shear drop offs with little to no problems, but stopped short at the last fifty yards of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park. No, I really didn't have to see that last bit. I had climbed high enough without killing myself. People rarely die from falls on the Inca Trail, but
it seems there is at least one death a year at Angel's Landing. I didn't need to be that one.
I'm now at the point in my life where I have traveled everywhere I ever dreamed of as a child, and done more than I could have ever expected. My A list is done. Now I'm working on the B and C lists. My husband wants to go as a family to Australia. This could be a great adventure. I've done twenty-two hour flights before, but Australia may even be longer if we count the layovers. But what does one do in Australia? There is Ayer's Rock and the Great Barrier Reef, and I'm sure I can find some tour associated with the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. But what is really calling me to travel all that way, besides people with a cool accent offering me a cold Fosters and shrimp on the barbie?
Each time I think about it, I think about the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bridge is 134 meters high, approximately 440 feet or the equivalent of a 36 story high rise. It is the largest steel-arch bridge in the world. The Bridge Climb of Sydney Tour Operators offer three tours. The Discovery and Bridge Climbs are approximately three and a half hours with fourteen people per tour. The Bridge Climb is an overall sightseeing climb with the Discovery Climb based more on the engineering aspects of the bridge itself. There is also an Express Climb at two hours and fifteen minutes with twelve people per tour. This is designed more for the hurry-up, take the pictures, check it off the list type of tourists … Americans.
Being an engineer by training, I'm looking at the Discovery Tour. But will I truly be able to do it after traveling all that distance? If it is a windy day, or even not … because the wind could change, will I have the courage to take on both of my fears? Knowing myself, I'll at least start the journey. I'll at least make it to the bridge, inquire with the guides, and decide on the day -- in the moment.
XXX
Tuesday 25 October 2011
Friday 21 October 2011
Some days you have it all figured out ...
... then there was this morning.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Jeremy left for work and I needed to use the bathroom. The Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was playing with her toys. I went into the bathroom for a few minutes. When I came out, the Today show was on, the dogs were sleeping on the sofa, and KZ was no where to be found.
I headed for the front door. It was open. Jeremy must have left it unlocked, and I didn't check it after he left. An immediate sick feeling hit my gut.
I ran into the communal hallway to find my smiling three year old daughter standing there only in her underwear heading for the stairwell.
"Hi, Mommy!"
Once inside, we had a conversation about how it is NOT safe to be outside the apartment without Mommy or Daddy. We have had this conversation before. I hope, but do not know, that my neighbors are trustworthy, but I'd rather not find out the hard way.
This parent job is so hard.
Thursday 20 October 2011
A Novel Approach
KZ has this habit of piling all our books, as many of them as she can reach, on the floor. She piles them two or three high and places them lengthwise across our living room area. We have a lot of books. She seems to get excited while doing this. Not nervous, but as if she is on a deadline. She is extremely focused in her work.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
"Come on Mommy, help me, help me!"
Sometimes I help, other times I tell her that Mommy is busy. I don't really know why she is doing this, but she does it often -- but not every day. Once all the books are in place, she seems to calm down, then goes about her normal business of being a three years old. She does not let me move the books.
Yesterday morning, she woke up, looked out the window and said, "It's raining, Mommy!" Then immediately started piling the books along the floor.
"Help me, Mommy, help me!"
"Honey, WHY are we doing this?"
"Mommy, we are building a damn in case it floods."
Oh, now I get it. Mommy can be the slow one in comparison to KZ. With all the rain in the New York/New Jersey area, she's been seeing a lot of flooding and a lot of sandbags and damns. She knows from her Strawberry Shortcake videos that damns keep the town safe when it floods. She is doing her part to make sure we stay safe.
Jeremy walked into the living room.
"KZ, why are all the books on the floor?"
"Because it is raining, and rains may bring floods, and floods need damns. She is protecting our home," I answered.
He just looked at me and smiled.
"I like her logic," he said.
Friday 14 October 2011
Happy Halloween
Halloween has always been such a wonderful time of year. With summer having passed, but the winter still not upon us, the perfect autumnal nights brought with it the crisp air and ever so light breezes. It was the perfectly timed breezes that brought forth the lovely reds, yellows, and golds drifting spookily down upon us while we would trick-or-treat under the old elm trees. Walking down the white sidewalks, which cut through the manicured lawns, we were always amazed by the amount of decorations on each house we passed. The houses, designed primarily by Mr. Wright, had orange lights delicately hanging from the over sized eaves. All the porches sported jack-o-lanterns with the real candles burning within. Each family had handmade witches, ghosts, and cobwebs strategically placed on their house and throughout their yard. All yards and sidewalks were well lit so that no little child would feel afraid in any way.
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
The neighbors decorated extensively for Halloween, however, each family had its own unique style. The Stewart family hosted pumpkin carving lessons weeks before the big night. Mrs. Stewart would sit each of us down with our own pumpkin, patterns, and carving tools with her name on them from Michael's craft store explaining in detail what we should be striving for. She was interested, too, in people expressing their true personality, as long as it conformed to her set of rules. This was fine with most of us, because we felt Mrs. Steward was always correct. She taught us how to carve our pumpkins in such a way that they would not rot before Halloween
"That would not be a good things," she would say.
Mrs. Stewart's home was always a symbol of perfection. Unnoticed, she did have a full staff working behind the scenes making it appear as if she did everything by herself.
Concerning costumes, each family would handmade their own, surrounding a central theme suggested by Mr. Gunn. Since, of course, all the mothers (and even most of the fathers) knew how to sew, this little competition lead by Mr. Gunn was always a lot of fun. I do remember the year my parents went as Mr. and Mrs. Dracula. Mom's naturally flowing black hair, formed the frame for the ghostly white theater paint she had applied to her face. Mrs. Klum, while visibly pregnant, applied Mom's make-up details. My parents wore matching costumes; white shirts, black trouser/skirt, and black satin capes. Dad had a red cummerbund, while Mom wore a red corset. I was a little vampire. I had my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and wore a rhinestone choker to "hide" my puncture wounds. I wore a long white dress with puffy capped sleeves, an a fake corset sewed directly into the dress. The dress was trimmed in black. My red accents came via my lips and cheekbones, thanks to Mrs. Klum. My brother, wanting to deviate from our vampire look, went with a pirate costume. He was still in the black, white, and red color motif. Unfortunately, his being a pirate, not a vampire, did disqualify us from the family costume contest. My brother was somehow able to keep his costume clean while he ran around with the other boys over the haystacks and through the pumpkin patch.
Each year, the block party committee would secure a permit for a Halloween Fest on our street. After the Michael Jackson video "Thriller" came out in December of 1983, Mrs. Abdul taught each of us the dance. Oh what fun we would have bouncing around the streets in our werewolf, mummy, and zombie costumes. That was always a real treat. After the traditional dance which signified the start of our party, we would proceed to speed pumpkin carving, candy apple making sessions, and apple bobbing contests to name a few of the organized activities. For those children who loved apple bobby, and honestly who doesn't, the barrel seemed endless We could get wet while bobbing, but couldn't be seen afterwards as wet at all. The secret, our parents always had a spare, dry costume ready. All of the food judging competitions would be conducted by Mr. Brown, even the homemade apple cider tasting. This was non-alcoholic, of course, because public displays of intoxication were just not tolerated. Speaking of drinks and food, we did have a wonderful array of sweets and savory dishes. Many of the families, lead by Mrs. Ray, would whip up a variety of meals, each taking no more than 30 minutes.
The evening would wrap up no later than 9 PM. The streets needed to be cleaned, food stored properly and children well rested for the next day.
Oh, Halloween, what wonderful memories ... or was it all just marketing I remember?
Tuesday 11 October 2011
Chicago Marathon, October 9, 2011
Not sure if you heard the two stories about the Chicago Marathon, on October 9, 2011. Ok, I'll be more specific. There were 45,000 runners, so there were closer to 45,000 stories, all very meaningful in their own way. Two struck me in particular.
The one you may have heard, because it has been on the national news, was of Amber Miller, a 27 year-old mother of one and an experienced marathoner. Amber was also 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Since she had always been a runner, her doctor encouraged her to continue with her running. She even ran a marathon earlier in her pregnancy. When race day came, it was beautiful, and she felt up for the run. She did a combination of running two miles and walking two miles, completing the race in 6:25:50, placing 34,339 ... beating over ten thousand people. After the race, she got herself a sandwich, then decided that she felt as if she was in labor so headed to the hospital, where she delivered a healthy baby girl, weighting over 7 lbs, later that evening. Mother and baby were both doing well! And may I say, Amber looked amazing while being interviewed. I guess you get that from being 27! I found it interesting that so many people were shocked or surprised by her running. I say good for her! I wouldn't encourage someone who never ran a step in her life to start running while pregnant, but if you do run, why stop? I ran two marathons while pregnant, Amsterdam at 12 weeks, and Disney at 24 weeks. I stopped running after the Disney Marathon, not so much that I wasn't allowed to run, more that I was just plain tired of running. I was also 42 years-old, and this was my first pregnancy. I wanted to enjoy it. There was, and is I hope, plenty of time to train in the future. I did do spinning up until the day I delivered, freaking out my spin instructor.
The other story that you most likely didn't hear about, unless you were reading a local Chicago or Greensboro, North Carolina paper was of Will Caviness, a 35-year old fire fighter, father of two -- 4 year-old boy and an 11 month-old girl, who was raising money for burn victims. His goal was to raise $2,000 and had surpassed it by $500. He died 500 yards from the finish line. The autopsy is still inconclusive as I type this. The Chicago Marathon results page had estimated he would come in at 3:05, which is damn fast. He was an experienced marathoner, coming in at 3:17 at the Outer Banks Marathon last year. They said he did his training runs pushing his daughter in her stroller. Gut wrenching, especially to this mother of a 3.5 year old. You want to talk about just plain wrong. I went to the website to donate to his charity, http://www.active.com/donate/IAFFBFdnBoACM11/WCavine, on Monday, and the donations were over $3,000. As I type this, they are now over $13,000.
Both of these stories hit very close to home for me. These runners were doing what they loved, and doing exactly the same things I would have done. If it is our time to be born or die, does it really matter if we are running a marathon or sitting on the sofa watching a marathon? Only the Universe truly knows. Do what you love, because you never really know what is going to happen next.
My heart and prayers go out to both of these families -- the new life that is, and the life that ended way too soon.
The one you may have heard, because it has been on the national news, was of Amber Miller, a 27 year-old mother of one and an experienced marathoner. Amber was also 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Since she had always been a runner, her doctor encouraged her to continue with her running. She even ran a marathon earlier in her pregnancy. When race day came, it was beautiful, and she felt up for the run. She did a combination of running two miles and walking two miles, completing the race in 6:25:50, placing 34,339 ... beating over ten thousand people. After the race, she got herself a sandwich, then decided that she felt as if she was in labor so headed to the hospital, where she delivered a healthy baby girl, weighting over 7 lbs, later that evening. Mother and baby were both doing well! And may I say, Amber looked amazing while being interviewed. I guess you get that from being 27! I found it interesting that so many people were shocked or surprised by her running. I say good for her! I wouldn't encourage someone who never ran a step in her life to start running while pregnant, but if you do run, why stop? I ran two marathons while pregnant, Amsterdam at 12 weeks, and Disney at 24 weeks. I stopped running after the Disney Marathon, not so much that I wasn't allowed to run, more that I was just plain tired of running. I was also 42 years-old, and this was my first pregnancy. I wanted to enjoy it. There was, and is I hope, plenty of time to train in the future. I did do spinning up until the day I delivered, freaking out my spin instructor.
The other story that you most likely didn't hear about, unless you were reading a local Chicago or Greensboro, North Carolina paper was of Will Caviness, a 35-year old fire fighter, father of two -- 4 year-old boy and an 11 month-old girl, who was raising money for burn victims. His goal was to raise $2,000 and had surpassed it by $500. He died 500 yards from the finish line. The autopsy is still inconclusive as I type this. The Chicago Marathon results page had estimated he would come in at 3:05, which is damn fast. He was an experienced marathoner, coming in at 3:17 at the Outer Banks Marathon last year. They said he did his training runs pushing his daughter in her stroller. Gut wrenching, especially to this mother of a 3.5 year old. You want to talk about just plain wrong. I went to the website to donate to his charity, http://www.active.com/donate/IAFFBFdnBoACM11/WCavine, on Monday, and the donations were over $3,000. As I type this, they are now over $13,000.
Both of these stories hit very close to home for me. These runners were doing what they loved, and doing exactly the same things I would have done. If it is our time to be born or die, does it really matter if we are running a marathon or sitting on the sofa watching a marathon? Only the Universe truly knows. Do what you love, because you never really know what is going to happen next.
My heart and prayers go out to both of these families -- the new life that is, and the life that ended way too soon.
Thursday 6 October 2011
She Really is a Big Girl Now
"Thank you all for coming, Mommy."
This was one of the many wondrous things my daughter has said to me lately. I smiled as my heart melted, then gave her the biggest hug.
"You are welcome, KZ so very welcome."
KZ has taken to dancing lately. She likes to perform impromptu dance recitals at random moments during the day. This morning, after she finished her latest performance, she clasped her hands, bowed ever so slightly, then said, "Thank you all for coming, Mommy." I don't where she gets it. Is it school with her Kimmy Schwimmy Music Classes or her Strawberry Shortcake DVDs? I know they have dance with Mr. Ray once or twice a week at school, depending on the week. We don't particularly dance at home. We are not trained dancers, nor do we even play music that often. But KZ does seem drawn to music and movement. Considering how many little kids are obese or overweight, we consider this a good thing. She has a Mozart Cube, which is a toy that plays Mozart either with a full orchestra or just one instrument at a time. She can press several sides and hear up to seven instruments at the same time. She loves it. She plays it constantly as her dance music. She twirls in her beautiful princess dresses in front of our large foyer mirror as she sings and dances.
She's a big girl.
A few mornings ago, I woke up in the dark. As I went to grab my iPhone to see what time it was, I knocked over a full glass of water.
"Shit!"
KZ sat up next to me.
"Shit! Don't worry, Mommy, it happens sometimes."
I wasn't sure if I was dreaming on two levels. One, I had no idea that she was in bed with me. She's taken to stealthily crawling in bed with us in the middle of the night. Two … don't worry, it happens? Out of all the swearing my husband does, her first swear word had to be mine. But the "don't worry, it happens" part, where did that come from? When something bad happens, I always tell her, "Don't worry, it happens." I have just never said that "shit happens." The fact that she put the two together, I find priceless.
She's a big girl.
From everything I could tell, KZ was ready to be out of pull-ups at night. She was so over diapers … they were for babies. But, the pull-ups we had stuck with for night sleeping. I had been told by experienced mothers that children hit this milestone at different ages. It really has a lot to do with how deeply they sleep. KZ has been an amazing sleeper since she was born. She was sleeping through the night at seven weeks. I have had no issues here. She was also potty trained by her second birthday. So, at three years, four months, and ten days, I decided to pull the pull-ups. I didn't talk to her about it, or make a big deal. I just put her in underwear, tucked her in, and kissed her good night, like every night.
Right before I went to bed, several hours later, I tried to wake her up to use the potty.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
"I'm just going to take you to the potty."
"I don't have to go potty. I'm sleeping!"
Alrighty then. I tucked her back in, kissed her goodnight, and turned off the lights.
And in the morning, she was dry.
She really is a big girl now.
This was one of the many wondrous things my daughter has said to me lately. I smiled as my heart melted, then gave her the biggest hug.
"You are welcome, KZ so very welcome."
KZ has taken to dancing lately. She likes to perform impromptu dance recitals at random moments during the day. This morning, after she finished her latest performance, she clasped her hands, bowed ever so slightly, then said, "Thank you all for coming, Mommy." I don't where she gets it. Is it school with her Kimmy Schwimmy Music Classes or her Strawberry Shortcake DVDs? I know they have dance with Mr. Ray once or twice a week at school, depending on the week. We don't particularly dance at home. We are not trained dancers, nor do we even play music that often. But KZ does seem drawn to music and movement. Considering how many little kids are obese or overweight, we consider this a good thing. She has a Mozart Cube, which is a toy that plays Mozart either with a full orchestra or just one instrument at a time. She can press several sides and hear up to seven instruments at the same time. She loves it. She plays it constantly as her dance music. She twirls in her beautiful princess dresses in front of our large foyer mirror as she sings and dances.
She's a big girl.
A few mornings ago, I woke up in the dark. As I went to grab my iPhone to see what time it was, I knocked over a full glass of water.
"Shit!"
KZ sat up next to me.
"Shit! Don't worry, Mommy, it happens sometimes."
I wasn't sure if I was dreaming on two levels. One, I had no idea that she was in bed with me. She's taken to stealthily crawling in bed with us in the middle of the night. Two … don't worry, it happens? Out of all the swearing my husband does, her first swear word had to be mine. But the "don't worry, it happens" part, where did that come from? When something bad happens, I always tell her, "Don't worry, it happens." I have just never said that "shit happens." The fact that she put the two together, I find priceless.
She's a big girl.
From everything I could tell, KZ was ready to be out of pull-ups at night. She was so over diapers … they were for babies. But, the pull-ups we had stuck with for night sleeping. I had been told by experienced mothers that children hit this milestone at different ages. It really has a lot to do with how deeply they sleep. KZ has been an amazing sleeper since she was born. She was sleeping through the night at seven weeks. I have had no issues here. She was also potty trained by her second birthday. So, at three years, four months, and ten days, I decided to pull the pull-ups. I didn't talk to her about it, or make a big deal. I just put her in underwear, tucked her in, and kissed her good night, like every night.
Right before I went to bed, several hours later, I tried to wake her up to use the potty.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
"I'm just going to take you to the potty."
"I don't have to go potty. I'm sleeping!"
Alrighty then. I tucked her back in, kissed her goodnight, and turned off the lights.
And in the morning, she was dry.
She really is a big girl now.
Wecome Back!
Wow, I can't believe how long it has been since I posted! I ran into a big of a tough spot towards the end of summer. I was so busy, and had been "thinking" about my writing, that I didn't even realize it had been so long since I actually posted anything. Much has happened, I do so hope to be able to type about it, if not today, then in the near future. I want to thank everyone who emailed me asking about the blog. I do appreciate that people are/were checking!
As most people know, Steve Jobs passed yesterday. I'm going to take a line from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech, and use it as part of my life. As I'm sure you've all read, this by now, but the following is the excerpt:
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
In the past, I've been afraid to write, act, paint, whatever, because I was worried about the judgement of others. I can blame it on my past, but honestly, I need to live in the present. Move On. It is a theme that has been coming up a lot over the summer for me in various places from books to lectures to even my yoga class. It doesn't mean we cannot mourn the past, but we, or should I say I, need to move on.
And that being said, I want to post a few things about the most amazing little girl I know, KZ. I had a piece I wrote about KZ reviewed by someone without children, but who is a writer. She said, "So what? What makes her any different than any other kid?" I got her point as in, if I want to sell this to a magazine, it needs that special grab, but I also feel, hey, what makes KZ so special? She's mine. I fought for years to become pregnant and feel blessed beyond compare to have her. And God knows, KZ is the in that FUN stage now. Everything she does involves laughter and happiness. She goes to bed with ease telling me she loves me and misses me already and wakes up smiling running to me with arms wide open saying how much she loves me. I've heard it changes as they get older, but for me, right now, I'm enjoying my present ... the gift of KZ.
As most people know, Steve Jobs passed yesterday. I'm going to take a line from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech, and use it as part of my life. As I'm sure you've all read, this by now, but the following is the excerpt:
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
In the past, I've been afraid to write, act, paint, whatever, because I was worried about the judgement of others. I can blame it on my past, but honestly, I need to live in the present. Move On. It is a theme that has been coming up a lot over the summer for me in various places from books to lectures to even my yoga class. It doesn't mean we cannot mourn the past, but we, or should I say I, need to move on.
And that being said, I want to post a few things about the most amazing little girl I know, KZ. I had a piece I wrote about KZ reviewed by someone without children, but who is a writer. She said, "So what? What makes her any different than any other kid?" I got her point as in, if I want to sell this to a magazine, it needs that special grab, but I also feel, hey, what makes KZ so special? She's mine. I fought for years to become pregnant and feel blessed beyond compare to have her. And God knows, KZ is the in that FUN stage now. Everything she does involves laughter and happiness. She goes to bed with ease telling me she loves me and misses me already and wakes up smiling running to me with arms wide open saying how much she loves me. I've heard it changes as they get older, but for me, right now, I'm enjoying my present ... the gift of KZ.
Thank you, Mr. Jobs
Today is a sad day not only for the nation, but the world. As I'm sure everyone knows, Steve Jobs passed away yesterday from cancer at the age of 56, leaving behind a wife and four children, 47,000 employees and and entire world who loved using his products. One of my mantras is that I leave the world a better place than when I arrived. He truly did. It is ironic in a sense that most people found out about his passing on a device that he created. Being a computer science engineer, I can tell you that I've worked with a lot of BADLY designed products. Some of the crazy things I had to do to keep hardware or software working, or even get it started in the first place, is shameful to the people who designed it. Never with an Apple product. They always, always just worked. I find that most people who have issues with any Apple device, really just have issues. It isn't the device (usually -- sure there are errors even in the Apple world), but the end user. He may not have been the greatest human being to his friends and family (I'll let everyone find that out if they want via Google), but he was one of the greatest inventors and thinkers of our time.
It's been said hundreds of times already this morning, but I'll repost from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech,
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Thank you, again, Mr. Jobs, for everything.
It's been said hundreds of times already this morning, but I'll repost from his 2005 Stanford Commencement speech,
"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."
Thank you, again, Mr. Jobs, for everything.
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