Not quite a month after closing on the house and it feels like we are definitely starting to settle in and establish our routines. Pretty much from the minute we moved in, it felt like home. Although it feels a bit overwhelming at times to think of how much we want to do to make it completely ours, I also want to enjoy the process of making it our home.
The dogs acclimated extremely well and it is evident that they love their new home and especially love going for walks. Vistancia provides a welcome environment for the pups with a great trail system and plenty of open desert for exploring. If all goes well, we try and take them for a walk every morning and sometimes again in the evening. D takes Sam and Bangara and I take Baxter and Sierra. (I swear Sierra needs Ritalin, though - she suffers from an acute case of ADHD!) Sierra and Baxter practically choke themselves through the first part of the walk, but eventually settle in (and tire out!). D has done a great job with the bigger boys and we've even gotten to the point where we can let go of their leashes around the corner and they run to the house by themselves. This is a HUGE change for them!
We still have some work to do on releasing some of Baxter's and Bangara's negative energy and territorialism, however. The other morning some guy was walking his dogs down the sidewalk behind our house and neither Baxter nor Bangara were too happy about it. Their aggression toward those dogs spilled over and they ended up having a bit of a tussle. Needless to say, Baxter wore the wounds from that little encounter with a little bite on his chin. Probably wouldn't have been that big of a deal, however, it was in a spot where it was tough to stop the bleeding. Mix that with him being all white and a chronic licker... next thing you know, he looked like the canine version of Steven King's Carrie. Sierra, being the girl/mom that she is, laid worried outside Baxter's crate, even bringing over her "baby" for him. She is the sweetest little girl.
Brandy is now settling in as well in her new location - Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. It is so awesome to be able to have full cell phone and email contact and I love getting all of the updates on her class. She is the only girl in her class and is kick butt (of course!). I can't wait to see her again, although it is crazy to think the next time won't be until Christmas. This will be the first birthday of hers that I won't be spending the day with her. :-(
Today is a big day for Brooke - we are going to get her senior pictures done. Although, she only wants the picture for her yearbook done right now and we'll do the rest of her photos after she gets her braces off. Seems impossible that my baby is graduating. Where did the years go? It seems like just yesterday they were babies.
More later.... gotta run!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Pride
It has been an incredible few weeks and there is so much to write about that I'm reminded once again why I should update my blog at least a few times per week (versus a few times per month!).You may be wondering about the title of this particular blog, PRIDE, but as I thought of the perfect title it was the one most prevailing feeling over the past few weeks, so I deemed it most appropriate. Pride in my daughters, pride in my country, pride in my city, pride in my family. In a world that tends to be hung up on negativity and as we are deluged with stories and images of pain, suffering, crime, it feels good to be able to highlight the positive.
Brooke started school last week and has approached this year with a drive and determination that is admirable. Instead of slacking off or coasting through her senior year, she has decided to get the most out of the year. Between taking the EMT program at the community college and trying out for and making the swim team, she is on the go from early in the morning (has to be at the school at 5 am every day for swim practice) through late at night. As if swimming, EMT, pre-calc, an on-line course, hockey, and Navy meetings weren't enough, she also starts a new job this week. We are so impressed and proud of her focus and dedication!
This was the week we've been waiting for as D and I traveled to Great Lakes Naval Base to see Brandy graduate from basic training. It was very disappointing that only the two of us could go, but due to the high price of airfare, there was just no way we could purchase tickets. We flew into O'Hare on Thursday afternoon and drove about 45 minutes north and found the hotel with relative ease. After a quick dinner at Giordano's, we turned in early knowing we would be back up very early on Friday to drive to the base.
Brandy had warned me about the traffic back-ups trying to get into base on graduation day, so I was pretty tense until we made it through the line, security, and a packed parking lot and made our way to the hall. As we entered the hall, we found the section designated for her division and found seats square in the center. Time seemed to move so slow waiting for the ceremony to begin - and it was so hard to believe I was finally going to be seeing her! After a seeming eternity, it began with a state flag ceremony which was pretty cool. The divisions were introduced and entered the hall in numeric order. 310, 311, 312, 313.... I'm waiting, camera on and ready to go... 314, 315.... 316..... and yes, 317! As I strained to see her division entering on the other end of the hall, I worried that I might not be able to find her. But as they turned the corner and started marching toward us, there she was, right in front, holding her division flag. It was definitely Brandy.
She looked awesome in her uniform, the shortest one in her division, holding a huge flag, all business and focused on the job at hand. They marched past us and took their place in the formation and she stopped right in front of us. As the ceremony progressed, I was curious about the officers (I think they were officers!) marching up and down the rows of sailors, looking at each of them, resembling secret service agents. It wasn't long before their job became evident, as sailors started to get dizzy, with some even fainting. With the first sign of wooziness, the "secret service agents" would swoop in and remove the ailing sailor, amazingly before most hit the ground. And there was Brandy, right in front, full dress uniform, holding this huge flag.... oh no, what if she fainted? I watched her start to sway a little, lean back, shift her foot and tried to remind myself that she had years of practice in marching band. She could do this. And she did! No fainting for her!
As a final step, the commanding officer inspected the new sailors and then their liberty was announced. Brandy broke away and practically ran over to us. That was one of the best hugs I have ever received! And yes, I started crying.... tears of relief, tears of pride, tears of happiness. She looked amazing and strong and grown up and so adorable in her uniform. (although I'm not sure "adorable" is what the Navy is going for...). After a few pictures outside, we got in the car and she headed for her first taste of freedom in 7 weeks. We went to Portillo's for lunch and my heart wanted to just about burst with pride as she walked in, dressed in her uniform, carrying a pride that emminated from her. A customer walked up and thanked her for her service to our country. What an amazing moment.
We brought her back to the hotel and she filled us in on everything she had experienced, taught us how to fold towels and t-shirts and explained all of her new lingo. She said it went fast and it was a great experience, one she will always remember. We had to bring her back early that night because she had watch and it was so hard to drop her off after just getting her back with us. But with plans to meet up first thing in the morning, we watched her walk to her "ship". (Which actually isn't a ship at all, but a brick dormitory that they call a ship... ha ha)
Bright and early Saturday morning we were back on base, waiting for her to meet us. After a big breakfast at IHop, we drove into Chicago and headed to Navy Pier. (Oh, and you may have noticed a theme here with the food - Portillos, IHop, etc - man, can that girl eat. I have never seen such a little person eat that much food! I think she ate more than Devin!) At Navy Pier, we decided to go on the Spirit of Chicago lunch cruise - the same one the girls and I went on a few years ago when we were in town for State Wars. Brandy was, of course, the star of the show, not only dancing to the Cha-Cha Slide, the Electric Slide among other songs, she was selected to "act" out the part of Lola to the song Copacabana. It was hilarious!! The Navy obviously didn't rob her of her "Brandy-ness". After dinner at TGI Fridays (yes, the third LARGE meal of the day), we once again brought her back to base.
Today, Sunday, was the best day of all. We met her at 6:30 am and brought her back to the hotel for breakfast and then went back to base for church. Brandy has served as the Master of Arms for the church since arriving and was very excited to have us experience one of the services. What an incredible experience. The chapel, which is very large, was full of young men and women, some recruits, some recently graduated sailors, celebrating Christ. With hands in the air, voices singing out His praises, it was a sight unlike any I have ever seen. These incredible young people had not only devoted their lives to defend our country, they were also fully devoted followers of Christ. The chaplain asked for a show of hands how many were occasional church goers (Christmas and Easter), there were a couple of hands. Monthly church-goers? a few more hands. Weekly church-goers? Majority of hands. What a sight! Praise God! We prayed for all of them, for those effected by hurricane Gustav, and for those soldiers and sailors overseas fighting the war. I was overcome with pride for these incredible and brave men and women, so young and yet with so much clarity on their faith and their dedication.
After church, we tried to catch a movie but couldn't find the theatre so we opted for bowling. We had a great time and Brandy challenged me to a game in the bowling alley arcade of her choice. I said yes, without giving it a second thought. Her grin should have been a clue... as she brought me over to the Dance, Dance Revolution contraption. Yep. I did it. DDR. Not only did I do it, so did Devin! (Pictures to come!) Our last dinner was at Giordano's, Brandy's choice, and I tried tojust enjoy every last minute. But suddenly the weekend was over and it was time to drop her off for the last time. Despite spending most of the weekend laughing and joking, I couldn't fight the tears when it came time to say good-bye. It seemed like we had just arrived and I got to see her and hug her and now she was getting ready to leave us. But this time it wouldn't be 7 weeks, it would be two and a half months, or maybe longer. Our next visit would be over Thanksgiving.
As emotional as it was, it was such an incredible weekend and I loved every minute of it. Brandy's excited to see her sisters in November and is especially anxious to get Brooke ready for her boot camp experience. It is so important to her that her sister is happy and successful in her military career and as their mom, I love seeing the camaraderie and mutual respect that has developed.
Outside of all of these happenings with the girls, we were also blessed with getting our house (FINALLY!!!) last week and much more important than a house, being blessed with a brand new member of the family!!! More details to follow in another post... Will also post pictures of the weekend as soon as I get them uploaded!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Trying to catch up!
Our walking spot - a beautiful garden in Reading
Things have definitely been hectic and I let my blog updates slip! I think it would be pretty much impossible to catch up on everything that's occurred, but I'll at least give the cliff notes version.It's been a complete rollercoaster with our house and unfortunately the ride is not over yet. We weren't able to close on Monday due to a field review and now we're not even sure if we're going to be able to get our house. :-( The good news is that it's definitely a buyer's market and there are plenty of options out there. I have faith that it will all work out the way it's supposed to!
The Skyline Trail - Hawk Mt. Yep, we hiked this trail!
We got back from Pennsylvania late Saturday night and it was an amazing trip. I am drowning in information and can't wait to get it all in order and a good solid action plan in place. In my heart and soul, I know that I made the right decision and it feels amazing to be aligned with a company that echoes my values. I had an opportunity to meet new affiliates and it was my pleasure and honor to become friends
with them. I'm looking forward to a long friendship with each of them.Being in Pennsylvania once again made me question why it is I live in the desert. While I don't regret moving out here, I do miss back East... the green, seasons, farmland, clean air. Ah - the air smells so good I wish I could package it and bring it home with me! Oh well, one day we might have a farm in PA. :-)
I did get to talk with Brandy for the first time - unfortunately it was while I was on the bus to pick up our rental car, but it was so great to hear her voice! Poor kid has been really sick but it doesn't seem to be slowing her down at all. She's doing well, passing her inspections, and keeping focused on her goals. I know she's homesick and it makes me miss her that much more. I can't wait to see her - we leave two weeks from tomorrow!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
July 25th - the hardest day of the year...
I met her first on a warm, humid summer day. I had seen the bikes parked under the patio of the house at the end of the street for a few weeks and I had hoped that there was a girl living in the house that was my age. I desperately wanted a friend in my new neighborhood. With patience, I would ride by the yellow house day after day, hoping to catch a glimpse of some hope that my new best friend would live there.
Finally it happened… our street was about ¼ mile long with about 14 houses. This was the only house that I thought might have someone my age. And there she was. Standing at the end of her dirt driveway, long hair in a sideways ponytail, dressed in a bathing suit with a beach towel around her shoulders. She looked my age and I was so excited that I stopped immediately and introduced myself, not even worried that I was making a total fool of myself. I remember telling her my name and finding out yes, we were the same age, in the same grade. Her name was Stacie and even in that moment, she seemed so much more “girly” than I was. In a shy voice, she told me that she and her sister were going down to the Saco river for a swim. And even though her sister was only two years older, she looked like an adult. Close enough for me – I rushed home and told my mom I was going swimming and fudged, just a bit, on her sister’s age.
With my dog, Penny, at my side, I was back at her house in minutes with my bathing suit on. I had a friend! The trip that day to the river was the first of many days we would spend at the “campground”. (In reality, it was a tiny road with six pop-up campers.) The river provided the perfect swimming hole and the mucky clay on the bottom, blood suckers, and occasional brush on the legs by the fresh-water eels did not deter us from a cool swim. A raft made of wood planks and empty barrels provided hours of entertainment as we would swim underneath, perhaps surfacing in the air pocket in the middle.
That day started a friendship that would last 10 years, cut short by a careless act of selfishness. When I think of my childhood, my memories all center around Stacie – whether it was the feeble attempt to build a fort down in blackberry pit, resurrecting opposing castles in the snow banks at the bus stop or doing our hair together before a school dance. My memories with her are all crystal clear amid a contrasting compilation of barely-there and hazy recollections of the rest of my childhood. It is with startling clarity that I remember the thickness of her hair, the love she had for her poodle, Tuffy, and her distaste for doing chores (especially the bathroom – which I did for her on many days). We would do Jane Fonda aerobics together, listen to Kenny Rogers, and watch Blue Lagoon and Michael Jackson’s Thriller video over and over.
I would do no justice to her memory if I didn’t capture those things that perhaps may not be viewed as overly positive, yet at the time, completely defined her. As much as I didn’t sleep, she slept. And we used to joke that she slept like the dead. Nothing would wake her. She would study so hard for every exam, and yet I would always get a better grade despite not studying. This infuriated her and always made me feel bad. I was chronically early and she was chronically late. I would show up at her house on the way to the bus stop in the morning and her family was none too pleased when the dog would bark at my knocks and wake them up. They never understood why I chose to spend more time at their house than mine. They never knew that when I thought of "family" or "home", they were my definition, not my house.
It was Stacie’s tendency for jealousy that I never understood. After all, she had the one thing I wanted more than anything – a stable, loving home environment. Her family was close, told each other they loved each other frequently, and you could tell how much they all adored her. Even though we were both the youngest of three, it couldn’t have been a more stark contrast.
We had our ups and downs, as teen girls do, but regardless of what was going on, we always spoke on my birthday and on her birthday. It was something we never missed.
She wanted to be a marine biologist – had since the day I met her. She wanted to grow up, get her degree, get married and have two little girls named Hannah and Megan. She also longed to have straight teeth and this would prove to be the only desire she had come to reality. She died shortly after getting her braces off. (Maybe this lends to my strong desire to have my girls appreciate their orthodontics.)
We hadn’t seen each other for quite a few months and it was her 21st birthday. I had Brooke just three months earlier, when I met up with her and some other friends at the bar at the Marriott. I never went "out" so it was so odd to be out, amongst friends. We hadn’t talked in months, as I was busy with the three girls and dealing with the mess Kirk had left me in. But I wanted to see her.
At some point late in the evening, we both went to the ladies room and I will never forget the conversation. Something within me told me to let her know what she meant to me. I must have sounded like a babbling fool – telling her how much I loved her, that she meant the world to me, and she was the most positive thing to come out of my childhood. I thanked her for her friendship and for all of the memories. I told her how beautiful I thought she was and how honored I was to have her as my best friend all of those years. I remember being so overcome with emotion, that I started crying. She hugged me and told me that I was being silly. She told me she loved me too… I'm sure she was trying to figure out how I had gotten "drunk" after not drinking alcohol! How else could my emotional outburst be explained?
That was July, 1991. I spoke to her on my birthday that October. A quick conversation, checked on the kids, and caught up briefly on life.
Two months later, I received word that would forever change my life. I didn’t have a phone in my apartment as diapers and formula took precedence. My mother showed up and told me that she had bad news. Stacie had been in a car accident and she was in critical condition. She didn’t know much other than the fact that her sister and brother were in the car, and although injured, they were expected to be ok. However, Stacie was much more serious. It was four days before Christmas.
She was in ICU at Eastern Maine Medical Center in Bangor – a 3-4 hour drive north. One of my biggest regrets now is not leaving immediately to see her. But I had no one to watch the girls as my mother was heading for potentially life-threatening surgery the following day. And it was that next morning I learned that she died. At the hands of a drunk-driver. Katherine Bolduc, 34 years old, her two kids in the car. Multiple DUIs to her name. At a Christmas party and no one stopped her. No one took her keys. They let her kill my best friend.
I would later learn that Stacie was driving up to spend Christmas with her mother and step-father, bringing her sister and brother. She saw the car coming towards her on her side of the 4-lane road, but she was on a bridge. She was trapped and she knew she was going to die.
At MMC that day, I was in the ICU waiting room as my mother was coming out of surgery. I was crying and filling my sister in on the details when another visitor spoke up. Ironically, I learned, she had been on the rescue unit that was first on scene to Stacie’s accident. She assured me that Stacie had been killed instantly, had not suffered, they only kept her alive long enough to donate her organs. She didn’t suffer, she told me. Yet, how can you say she didn’t suffer if she saw her impending death? I shudder to think of those last minutes of her life before the impact.
The funeral was little more than a blur – the church filled with friends, family, and many Maine State Troopers (her step-father was a State Policeman). But we couldn't help but smile and even giggle a bit when the song "Don't Worry... Be Happy" came loudly from the church speakers. The minister let everyone know, that's what Stacie would have wanted. He commented on her love of dancing in the rain and I knew that he was referring to my special memory. During any substantial rain storm, we would meet at the halfway point between our houses, dancing and singing like fools.
I wrote this post on her 38th birthday, 7/25/08, but she will forever be 21 in my heart and in my memories. A life cut short due to a tragic selfishness and utter disregard for others. I pray often that I will one day forgive her killer and all of those that allowed her killer to be on the road that day. And I pray that no one will ever have to know this pain.
Finally it happened… our street was about ¼ mile long with about 14 houses. This was the only house that I thought might have someone my age. And there she was. Standing at the end of her dirt driveway, long hair in a sideways ponytail, dressed in a bathing suit with a beach towel around her shoulders. She looked my age and I was so excited that I stopped immediately and introduced myself, not even worried that I was making a total fool of myself. I remember telling her my name and finding out yes, we were the same age, in the same grade. Her name was Stacie and even in that moment, she seemed so much more “girly” than I was. In a shy voice, she told me that she and her sister were going down to the Saco river for a swim. And even though her sister was only two years older, she looked like an adult. Close enough for me – I rushed home and told my mom I was going swimming and fudged, just a bit, on her sister’s age.
With my dog, Penny, at my side, I was back at her house in minutes with my bathing suit on. I had a friend! The trip that day to the river was the first of many days we would spend at the “campground”. (In reality, it was a tiny road with six pop-up campers.) The river provided the perfect swimming hole and the mucky clay on the bottom, blood suckers, and occasional brush on the legs by the fresh-water eels did not deter us from a cool swim. A raft made of wood planks and empty barrels provided hours of entertainment as we would swim underneath, perhaps surfacing in the air pocket in the middle.
That day started a friendship that would last 10 years, cut short by a careless act of selfishness. When I think of my childhood, my memories all center around Stacie – whether it was the feeble attempt to build a fort down in blackberry pit, resurrecting opposing castles in the snow banks at the bus stop or doing our hair together before a school dance. My memories with her are all crystal clear amid a contrasting compilation of barely-there and hazy recollections of the rest of my childhood. It is with startling clarity that I remember the thickness of her hair, the love she had for her poodle, Tuffy, and her distaste for doing chores (especially the bathroom – which I did for her on many days). We would do Jane Fonda aerobics together, listen to Kenny Rogers, and watch Blue Lagoon and Michael Jackson’s Thriller video over and over.
I would do no justice to her memory if I didn’t capture those things that perhaps may not be viewed as overly positive, yet at the time, completely defined her. As much as I didn’t sleep, she slept. And we used to joke that she slept like the dead. Nothing would wake her. She would study so hard for every exam, and yet I would always get a better grade despite not studying. This infuriated her and always made me feel bad. I was chronically early and she was chronically late. I would show up at her house on the way to the bus stop in the morning and her family was none too pleased when the dog would bark at my knocks and wake them up. They never understood why I chose to spend more time at their house than mine. They never knew that when I thought of "family" or "home", they were my definition, not my house.
It was Stacie’s tendency for jealousy that I never understood. After all, she had the one thing I wanted more than anything – a stable, loving home environment. Her family was close, told each other they loved each other frequently, and you could tell how much they all adored her. Even though we were both the youngest of three, it couldn’t have been a more stark contrast.
We had our ups and downs, as teen girls do, but regardless of what was going on, we always spoke on my birthday and on her birthday. It was something we never missed.
She wanted to be a marine biologist – had since the day I met her. She wanted to grow up, get her degree, get married and have two little girls named Hannah and Megan. She also longed to have straight teeth and this would prove to be the only desire she had come to reality. She died shortly after getting her braces off. (Maybe this lends to my strong desire to have my girls appreciate their orthodontics.)
We hadn’t seen each other for quite a few months and it was her 21st birthday. I had Brooke just three months earlier, when I met up with her and some other friends at the bar at the Marriott. I never went "out" so it was so odd to be out, amongst friends. We hadn’t talked in months, as I was busy with the three girls and dealing with the mess Kirk had left me in. But I wanted to see her.
At some point late in the evening, we both went to the ladies room and I will never forget the conversation. Something within me told me to let her know what she meant to me. I must have sounded like a babbling fool – telling her how much I loved her, that she meant the world to me, and she was the most positive thing to come out of my childhood. I thanked her for her friendship and for all of the memories. I told her how beautiful I thought she was and how honored I was to have her as my best friend all of those years. I remember being so overcome with emotion, that I started crying. She hugged me and told me that I was being silly. She told me she loved me too… I'm sure she was trying to figure out how I had gotten "drunk" after not drinking alcohol! How else could my emotional outburst be explained?
That was July, 1991. I spoke to her on my birthday that October. A quick conversation, checked on the kids, and caught up briefly on life.
Two months later, I received word that would forever change my life. I didn’t have a phone in my apartment as diapers and formula took precedence. My mother showed up and told me that she had bad news. Stacie had been in a car accident and she was in critical condition. She didn’t know much other than the fact that her sister and brother were in the car, and although injured, they were expected to be ok. However, Stacie was much more serious. It was four days before Christmas.
She was in ICU at Eastern Maine Medical Center in Bangor – a 3-4 hour drive north. One of my biggest regrets now is not leaving immediately to see her. But I had no one to watch the girls as my mother was heading for potentially life-threatening surgery the following day. And it was that next morning I learned that she died. At the hands of a drunk-driver. Katherine Bolduc, 34 years old, her two kids in the car. Multiple DUIs to her name. At a Christmas party and no one stopped her. No one took her keys. They let her kill my best friend.
I would later learn that Stacie was driving up to spend Christmas with her mother and step-father, bringing her sister and brother. She saw the car coming towards her on her side of the 4-lane road, but she was on a bridge. She was trapped and she knew she was going to die.
At MMC that day, I was in the ICU waiting room as my mother was coming out of surgery. I was crying and filling my sister in on the details when another visitor spoke up. Ironically, I learned, she had been on the rescue unit that was first on scene to Stacie’s accident. She assured me that Stacie had been killed instantly, had not suffered, they only kept her alive long enough to donate her organs. She didn’t suffer, she told me. Yet, how can you say she didn’t suffer if she saw her impending death? I shudder to think of those last minutes of her life before the impact.
The funeral was little more than a blur – the church filled with friends, family, and many Maine State Troopers (her step-father was a State Policeman). But we couldn't help but smile and even giggle a bit when the song "Don't Worry... Be Happy" came loudly from the church speakers. The minister let everyone know, that's what Stacie would have wanted. He commented on her love of dancing in the rain and I knew that he was referring to my special memory. During any substantial rain storm, we would meet at the halfway point between our houses, dancing and singing like fools.
I wrote this post on her 38th birthday, 7/25/08, but she will forever be 21 in my heart and in my memories. A life cut short due to a tragic selfishness and utter disregard for others. I pray often that I will one day forgive her killer and all of those that allowed her killer to be on the road that day. And I pray that no one will ever have to know this pain.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Pennsylvania
So my posts are a bit out of order, but I will do my best to catch up!
Today is our first full day in Reading, PA. I could live here in a heartbeat - it's absolutely beautiful. This is my 2nd trip to the area this year, but I'll be here much longer this time. I'm attending the quarterly affiliate network session for the next four days, one day off (on Sunday), and then six days of fast start training on all of the new processes and products I'll be representing. It's going to be busy and probably exhausting, but I can't think of a better place to be.
Our flights were perfect yesterday and we despite having to get up super early yesterday, I have no complaints. We arrived in Philly around 4:30 p.m. and started the 75 mile out to Reading/Wyomissing. The highways here, similar to Maine, don't necessarily have an exit every mile.... or every two miles, or every five miles, for that matter. D and I were lost in an in-depth conversation when we realized we drove by our exit. It wasn't a simple matter of turning around at the next exit, because by then we were in a completely different area. Despite being a bit directionally and map challenged, we found our way to Reading through beautiful farmland, rolling hills, and green trees and grass. To me, it was worth getting lost, I mean taking a detour, to see more of the countryside. Once we got to Wyomissing, we came upon a beautiful park, with grass, a brooke running through the middle, weeping willow trees, flowers and benches. We decided that after dinner, we would come back and take a walk.
The hotel is very quaint - a rambling, old one to two story structure that provides the necessities but certainly doesn't represent the upscale establishments I normally use when traveling on business. However, I like it so much more!! We have a big room, free Internet, a little refrigerator, and free breakfast buffet each morning (which was delicious!).
We went to Friendly's for dinner - my choice, of course! and then took a nice long walk in the park. On the way out, we met a lady who talked to us for quite awhile and ended up inviting us to her church on Sunday (and to Israel in December!!). God's work, I have no doubt!
The best part of the day, however, was the call I received on the bus to pick up the rental car - I finally heard from BRANDY! It was so amazing to hear her voice again, although she still sounds hoarse. She said she's not feeling too great, but they tell her it's her sinuses not her throat. They gave her some medicine. She has become the "faith officer" or something like that and said she really loves the work she's doing with the church. She is the section leader in the church band, helps organize the services, makes sure people know when to go to church, and is constantly cleaning and doing stuff there at the church to help out. Her Chaplain gave her a new bible and she told me she reads it a lot. It's so great to see how God is working in her life. At the end of the call she started crying and it broke my heart. I miss her so much and can't wait until I can see her in a few weeks.
I'll post later about the reunion!
Today is our first full day in Reading, PA. I could live here in a heartbeat - it's absolutely beautiful. This is my 2nd trip to the area this year, but I'll be here much longer this time. I'm attending the quarterly affiliate network session for the next four days, one day off (on Sunday), and then six days of fast start training on all of the new processes and products I'll be representing. It's going to be busy and probably exhausting, but I can't think of a better place to be.
Our flights were perfect yesterday and we despite having to get up super early yesterday, I have no complaints. We arrived in Philly around 4:30 p.m. and started the 75 mile out to Reading/Wyomissing. The highways here, similar to Maine, don't necessarily have an exit every mile.... or every two miles, or every five miles, for that matter. D and I were lost in an in-depth conversation when we realized we drove by our exit. It wasn't a simple matter of turning around at the next exit, because by then we were in a completely different area. Despite being a bit directionally and map challenged, we found our way to Reading through beautiful farmland, rolling hills, and green trees and grass. To me, it was worth getting lost, I mean taking a detour, to see more of the countryside. Once we got to Wyomissing, we came upon a beautiful park, with grass, a brooke running through the middle, weeping willow trees, flowers and benches. We decided that after dinner, we would come back and take a walk.
The hotel is very quaint - a rambling, old one to two story structure that provides the necessities but certainly doesn't represent the upscale establishments I normally use when traveling on business. However, I like it so much more!! We have a big room, free Internet, a little refrigerator, and free breakfast buffet each morning (which was delicious!).
We went to Friendly's for dinner - my choice, of course! and then took a nice long walk in the park. On the way out, we met a lady who talked to us for quite awhile and ended up inviting us to her church on Sunday (and to Israel in December!!). God's work, I have no doubt!
The best part of the day, however, was the call I received on the bus to pick up the rental car - I finally heard from BRANDY! It was so amazing to hear her voice again, although she still sounds hoarse. She said she's not feeling too great, but they tell her it's her sinuses not her throat. They gave her some medicine. She has become the "faith officer" or something like that and said she really loves the work she's doing with the church. She is the section leader in the church band, helps organize the services, makes sure people know when to go to church, and is constantly cleaning and doing stuff there at the church to help out. Her Chaplain gave her a new bible and she told me she reads it a lot. It's so great to see how God is working in her life. At the end of the call she started crying and it broke my heart. I miss her so much and can't wait until I can see her in a few weeks.
I'll post later about the reunion!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Love story
And I have officially decided that Good Will Hunting is my favorite movie. It is the ultimate love story. Robin Williams' character talking about his wife makes me cry everytime.
City by the Bay
Although it got off to a bit of a rocky start, over all I would say it was a successful day. I woke up to Brit knocking on my door, asking me if I was awake and would be ready to go to the airport shortly. Now there's a switch for you - one of my girls waking me up when I've over slept in the morning! :-) I must have slept through my 4:30 am alarm and by the time she woke me up it was too late to shower. I finished packing in a rush, threw on my clothes and we were out the door. It wasn't until I was sitting on the plane that I realized I had forgotten my badge and a few other things.
The flight to San Francisco was great and I was actually able to sleep for a good portion of the flight (again, something new for me!). The cab driver informed me that I was very lucky to come into town today, the weather was the best it had been for awhile and it truly was gorgeous. Sunny, warm, with a nice breeze off the bay.
Although I always enjoy coming to SF, I had what I considered an "uncomfortable" schedule of meetings. Unlike my previous roles, this particular job is basically a task-manager role and lacks the passion and drive I normally have. And the meetings today were pretty much centered around those tasks... a marketing director that would be supporting a letter and email campaign I initiated, a VP of analysis that would provide the stats and analytics for a pilot, and lastly a presentation to my EVP's leadership team.
I enjoyed the 2 1/2 mile walk to the office from my hotel and was once again reminded why I love this city. Of all of the cities I have visited, SF was by far the best walking city and there was no end to the interesting people you see, the incredible architecture. I anticipated my walk to and from the office being the high point of the day. But as usual, life surprised me. My first two meetings were great and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I had some time prior to my presentation, so I stopped by to visit my old team and was greeted with warm hugs. As much as I pride myself on being independent and keeping my emotional distance from business colleagues, this reminded me just how special the people are at my company. And I missed being on and having a team.
After visiting for awhile, I made my way back to Kearny Street to present at the leadership meeting. I knew about half of the 20 SVPs and VPs in the room, including my boss. The presentation seemed to go very well and I received some great emails after - including one from my boss' boss. :-)
But here is where the day gets interesting. About a year ago I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and decided that I would not eat all of my meals in my room while traveling on business. The first few times I ate at a restaurant by myself it was very uncomfortable. I had to find things to look at or do to preoccupy myself - playing with my blackberry, reviewing my to-do list. NowI've learned to just sit, relax, and enjoy my meal and my surroundings when out. Of course, I talk big but the funny thing is I've only pushed my comfort zone just so far... for example, when in SF, I eat out, but it's always at the same restaurant - Cheesecake Factory at the top of Macy's, overlooking Union Square.
Well, on my way into Macy's, I caught sight of a homeless man on his knees, praying. If you've been to SF, you know that there are a lot of homeless on the sidewalks, with signs asking for money, begging, or wandering around aimlessly, most likely victims of mental disorders or drug addictions. As with the poverty in other countries, it almost becomes too much to handle. I feel helpless and powerless, and these are people in my backyard. So I'm guilty of doing what most everyone does - I ignore them. I struggle to "excuse" homelessness - in the past I've judged them - lazy, drug addicts, alcoholics. All things to me that are within someone's control. Sometimes I move away with an irrational fear,scared at times that they may come towards me. But this man on his knees tonight caught my attention. I wondered what he was praying, if he was really praying, and did he have faith in God despite his situation?
The reality of the condition of the people on the street distracted me throughout dinner and as I looked at my plate of food, that was enough to feed at least two people, I couldn't help but feel guilty. At the same time, I thanked God for all of the blessings He has given to me. It seemed small and inconsequential, but I decided to take the rest of my food to go and give it to the man praying out front. I wanted him to know God heard him. However, when I walked out, he was gone but it didn't take me long to find another man. He was older, perhaps in his 60s, with a sign asking for help. He had kind eyes and a sad pride about him. I walked straight up to him, looked him in the eye, and asked "are you hungry, sir?". "Yes, ma'am, I am" he said softly "very hungry". I gave him the bag, telling him it wasn't much but it was warm and fresh. "God bless you" he whispered.
As I walked back to the hotel, I was overcome with emotion. I'm not sure where it came from, but this small interaction moved me. It was such a small act of kindness, it took no time and no money. I gave him food that hundreds of time before I would have just discarded. It made no difference to me how he ended up on the street or what he had done in the past. All that mattered was I was able to make a difference in his life. And in turn, he made a difference in mine.
The flight to San Francisco was great and I was actually able to sleep for a good portion of the flight (again, something new for me!). The cab driver informed me that I was very lucky to come into town today, the weather was the best it had been for awhile and it truly was gorgeous. Sunny, warm, with a nice breeze off the bay.
Although I always enjoy coming to SF, I had what I considered an "uncomfortable" schedule of meetings. Unlike my previous roles, this particular job is basically a task-manager role and lacks the passion and drive I normally have. And the meetings today were pretty much centered around those tasks... a marketing director that would be supporting a letter and email campaign I initiated, a VP of analysis that would provide the stats and analytics for a pilot, and lastly a presentation to my EVP's leadership team.
I enjoyed the 2 1/2 mile walk to the office from my hotel and was once again reminded why I love this city. Of all of the cities I have visited, SF was by far the best walking city and there was no end to the interesting people you see, the incredible architecture. I anticipated my walk to and from the office being the high point of the day. But as usual, life surprised me. My first two meetings were great and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I had some time prior to my presentation, so I stopped by to visit my old team and was greeted with warm hugs. As much as I pride myself on being independent and keeping my emotional distance from business colleagues, this reminded me just how special the people are at my company. And I missed being on and having a team.
After visiting for awhile, I made my way back to Kearny Street to present at the leadership meeting. I knew about half of the 20 SVPs and VPs in the room, including my boss. The presentation seemed to go very well and I received some great emails after - including one from my boss' boss. :-)
But here is where the day gets interesting. About a year ago I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and decided that I would not eat all of my meals in my room while traveling on business. The first few times I ate at a restaurant by myself it was very uncomfortable. I had to find things to look at or do to preoccupy myself - playing with my blackberry, reviewing my to-do list. NowI've learned to just sit, relax, and enjoy my meal and my surroundings when out. Of course, I talk big but the funny thing is I've only pushed my comfort zone just so far... for example, when in SF, I eat out, but it's always at the same restaurant - Cheesecake Factory at the top of Macy's, overlooking Union Square.
Well, on my way into Macy's, I caught sight of a homeless man on his knees, praying. If you've been to SF, you know that there are a lot of homeless on the sidewalks, with signs asking for money, begging, or wandering around aimlessly, most likely victims of mental disorders or drug addictions. As with the poverty in other countries, it almost becomes too much to handle. I feel helpless and powerless, and these are people in my backyard. So I'm guilty of doing what most everyone does - I ignore them. I struggle to "excuse" homelessness - in the past I've judged them - lazy, drug addicts, alcoholics. All things to me that are within someone's control. Sometimes I move away with an irrational fear,scared at times that they may come towards me. But this man on his knees tonight caught my attention. I wondered what he was praying, if he was really praying, and did he have faith in God despite his situation?
The reality of the condition of the people on the street distracted me throughout dinner and as I looked at my plate of food, that was enough to feed at least two people, I couldn't help but feel guilty. At the same time, I thanked God for all of the blessings He has given to me. It seemed small and inconsequential, but I decided to take the rest of my food to go and give it to the man praying out front. I wanted him to know God heard him. However, when I walked out, he was gone but it didn't take me long to find another man. He was older, perhaps in his 60s, with a sign asking for help. He had kind eyes and a sad pride about him. I walked straight up to him, looked him in the eye, and asked "are you hungry, sir?". "Yes, ma'am, I am" he said softly "very hungry". I gave him the bag, telling him it wasn't much but it was warm and fresh. "God bless you" he whispered.
As I walked back to the hotel, I was overcome with emotion. I'm not sure where it came from, but this small interaction moved me. It was such a small act of kindness, it took no time and no money. I gave him food that hundreds of time before I would have just discarded. It made no difference to me how he ended up on the street or what he had done in the past. All that mattered was I was able to make a difference in his life. And in turn, he made a difference in mine.
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