I was a very compliant child.  Afraid not to do as I was told.  I had little concept of what it meant not to obey most especially when I was right under my mother’s nose.  Unlike one or two of my children, who had I even attempted such a method against their will or interest would have sat there, looking around, book on table, or possibly in their hand, not reading a word, no matter how much I prodded them to read.  No, I wasn’t like that I took the book she had for me, slumped into my chair, opened the cover with a quiet sigh, marked the time when I would be done, and read.  Counting each tedious minute.

A few days later I had library at school and this was where my school librarian played a heavy role in my life.  I don’t remember her name.  Or her face.  But what I do remember is that she LOVED books and she smiled a lot.  I told her my unfortunate, annoying dilemma.  I remember her smiling broadly with a twinkle in her eye and her guiding me to a book from our school library shelves that she was sure I would enjoy.  Having little choice or options I grudgingly checked it out, took it to class, and shoved it into my desk.  Later that night I remember looking at the cover and thinking  the picture was interesting at least, then I opened to the first page, gave a quiet sigh and began reading.  But this time when my 20 minutes were up I didn’t stop.  I couldn’t.  I was unashamedly hooked.  I have no idea how much longer I read or what the title was that made me fall head over heels in love with reading but I can tell you it was about a cute robot from space and there were three in the series.  (Thus began my passion for series.)  After that I went to library hunger for another book of her recommendation and she always steered me right.  Summers I went to the library and carried home a deep pile of books, devoured them, and returned and get another pile.   And from that day till now I have surrounded myself and my children with books.  All my children have cut their teeth on them both literally and figuratively and I’m happy to say some love reading but some find it tedious.  However even my soon to be 20 year old daughter who is one who finds it tedious, and why and why she does I’ll never understand, stills loves for me to read to her and if I could would have me read book after book to her.  If only there were time…

Love ya,
Theresa Jane
-who loves her first librarian and is thankful to her mother for making her sit at that dining room table for 20 minutes a day

With unstoppable intensity memories bombarded my mind.  Although I remember tremendous boredom being at my step-grandparents I don’t remember any negative memories.  Except when we left.  That’s when my parents would begin to bicker, even as we left the driveway.  Bickering that was a straight road to intense arguing.  My mother didn’t like going for our frequent Sunday afternoon visits.  My step-father’s parents smoked, a lot.  Drank beer.  To access. But not to access when we were there, unless there was a family party.  They played poker.  Holey decks of cards were unashamedly stacked on the counter or table and my step-grandmother often played solitaire or played/practiced with the cards at the kitchen table where they visited when we were there.  Moving them this way and then that, or fanned out in a perfect row, lifting the last, and nudging the rest so that they all flipped from front to back in perfect orchestration. 

One day when I was about 6 or 7 I was there, alone.  The one and only time I remember being there without my parents.  They were up the country road about a quarter of a mile at a site where my step-father had put a small, inexpensive, used, travel trailer on a piece of land he had purchased from his parents.  He needed a place to go, to get out of town where we lived.  Where my mother wanted them to live.  She had grown up in town and that’s where she liked it.  He had grown in the country and felt cramped, awkward, and out of place in our house, on its tiny plot.

My parents were busy clearing the land around the trailer and setting things up inside and I was totally bored.  So I asked if I might go and visit my step-grandparents (although I never referred to them as “step”).  This was when my grandmother taught me how to run a deck up my arm, nudge it and have them all flip from their backs to their faces.  She showed me repeatedly running them along here wrinkled arm and used her middle finger to nudge them with.  I watched enthralled.  Eager to learn.  No one had ever taught me such a thing.  My other grandmother, my mother’s mom taught me to clean dishes and the floors, how to crochet, and embroider but nothing nearly so spectacular as this.

Then she handed me the deck.  I took it filled with tremendous confidence that I could repeat this trick.  But it only took seconds to discover that just getting the deck to spread evenly up my small arm was a task.  But I persevered.  I remembered her warm smile and encouragement she shared by telling me it took her some time of practice to get it to work for her.  We laughed together that day.  And ate wafer cookies from a pack with a mixed variety of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, and she told me about the orange tree that stood proudly on her kitchen counter.  It had come from Joany, her daughter.  She had sent it to her all the way from California where she lived.  It had an orange about the size of an acorn and I thought it was the cutest little thing.  She told me how she loved it and wanted it to grow tall and strong so she could pick her own oranges.

This was the only time I remembered connecting with my grandmother on my step-father’s side.  The one and only.  My step-father’s trailer and the land it sat on was put up for sale and sold the next week.  I remember the arguments my parents had over it.  My mother hated it.  She didn’t want to go up there anyway into the country.  She wanted them to get their money back that they had put into it.  AND she didn’t want me up there around “those people“.

We continued with our visits on Sundays where my parents and baby brother visited with them at the kitchen table, I was rallied to the living room to watch TV or preferably outside to play.  Rarely invited to sit with the adults.

My step-grandparents died long, long ago but today wafer cookies are one of my total favorites.  They can compete equally with Oreo’s for my attention.   And the card trick?  Well today I couldn’t pick up a deck and just wing it out there with great perfection however back in the day of my youth I practiced it, out of the view of my mother, off and on for years till I got it right.  I think growing into longer arms helped 

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-my step-grandparents had two pictures in their home…one was the famous scene of the outdoors, in the country, red barn… and this pictured below, it hung in their kitchen,  I found this picture on Invisible Mikey’s blog he wrote about the artist, interestingly enough, last week, however it didn’t have the same memory evoking effect as the salt and pepper shakers . . .  I always loved that picture…my mom hated it.

Finally Cal raced out carrying a water bottle and bearing a smile.  After a hello hug we set out.  Throughout the walk Cal’s head stayed largely turned up tracking the clear water bottle as he threw it as high as he could.  Then gauging its descent, he raced to catch it again and again.  I also watched as it soared, delighting with him at how high it went and for his every catch.  I kept waiting for that bubble filled bottle to miss his grip, smash against the sizzling black top, and spew water everywhere.  I also watched, with careful concern, for it’s downward arch and stepped, with agile quickness out of its way.

The path of our walked ambled from here to there as I sought the cooling shelter of  available trees casting long, early evening shadows and Cal followed without a break in his stride or the tilt of his head, as 8 year olds are so agily capable of doing.

As we were trodding up a steady incline, the type that makes you slow your pace and breath heavier due to its continous length, he stopped throwing his bottle and asked, “What was my first word?”
I answered, a bit sadly, “You know, I don’t remember.  I was pretty sick when you were that little and some things I just don’t recall.  Remember our talking about that?”
“Oh, yeah.”  And in his effort to really get his brain more fully wrapped around “my sickness” he said, “So you must have not felt well a lot.  Like been tired and stuff.”
“Yes, that and more.  I’m only here today because of Dr. John’s skill and healing techniques.”
“I’m happy about that,” he said, I wouldn’t have wanted you to die.”  Then he paused thoughtful and added, “I’m glad I have life,”  and looked up at me and smiled.

Those five words really got to me.  They caused a question to etch across the folds of my brain, “Have I ever been glad I had life?”  I don’t recall feeling that way ever honestly.  As a child I was doing all I could to survive and endure, that pretty much consumed me and I think that that way of living continued with me even until today.  The times I felt the freest, the most at peace was on the playground that stood next door to my grandmother’s.  There I spent hours of carefree play swinging so high with my friends we all feared we might loop back over the top bar, climbing monkey bars and daring myself to stand on the top arms outstretched like the boys, teter tautering with a freind or simply running up and down it on my own or sitting at its center keeping it perfectly balanced, and sliding down what I considered the world’s highest slide.  A metal structure with about 20 stairs that had little dull claws to grab and steady the soles of the children who climbed to its full height, it had a shiny, mirror like slide that at the peak of the noon day sun would burn through our thin cotton shorts making it only for the bravest and strongest to attempt going down.  Then, when the season was right, I daily swam long hours in the “Little Pool” the round blue concrete wonder that couldn’t have been more than 2-2 1/2 feet deep at its exact center.  The spot where Robert and I would grip the metal drainage grate beneath us in order to stay submerged and compete to see who could stay under the longest.

This was where I was the happiest.  This was where I spent as many hours as I could from early morning to early evening pausing only to get lunch and then a quick dinner.  This was where there was quiet.  Peace.  A measure of safety.

I thought of that time as I examined myself and the span of my life here on this planet, asking, ”Can I say that I’ve been glad I had life?  Did I at least during my time on the playground have this feeling?”  Honestly?  No.  My time on the playground was me simply loving my time there whether with friends or alone.  At that moment.  Thankful for the freedom.  The sun warming my hair and the cool of the evening shadows as they stretched across the lawn.  It was my place of escape, for solitude away from the troubles that lay at home.

Yesterday, from the mouth of one of the most pleasent 8 year olds I know, who also happens, thankfully to be my son, came one of the most thought provoking, life and thought altering statments for me.  And I think it was so jolting due to his tender age.  To hear someone so young utter such a statement is unavoidably noteable.

So today I make it my goal to reach for the simple contentment of having life.  Not to just “put in my time” doing what I can while I’m here for the service of others, or to make a difference, or even for the need and eranest desire to be the best mom I know to be, for my children, but for me.  For the sheer pleasure of being glad that… I have life. . .

Love ya,
Theresa Jane
-Cal’s water bottle survived 50 minutes into our walk then it smashed.  And when it did it, “made the coolest pattern” rendering it worth the loss of serving as a thrist quenching fluid for Cal.  Also Dan and Grace joined us for the last 15 minutes rendering my evening a delight with my three youngest before they, with great excitment and expectation, loaded into their sisters Blessing’s car to spend the night with her at her apartment.

I really am quite mulit-faceted in many ways.  I’m not one to just settle on one thing.  Some take comfort in a mundane routine in their life.  That would make me crazy.  Take food for instance.  For 23 years of marriage I cooked.  I mastered cooking before internet and cooking channels.  I dug in with a few books and learned on my own.  I was never content to have a menu resemble…Monday, meatloaf, Tuesday, Spaghetti, Wednesday, Tuna Casserole and so forth  or a rotating two week, three week, or monthly schedule.  The thought of using those methods for turning out meals would have driven me to refusing to eat.  Nay, instead I functioned from a list of recipes and choose, or create on the fly with whats on the shelves and cooling in the fridge.  Then there’s my reading and movie genres.  I’ve mentioned in the past that I love Stephen King/horror, most recent: Nightmare on Elm Street, and then I adored the Shopaholic book series, which were better then the movie, Harry Potter, Knights and Castle time periods: the newest “Robin Hood”-loved it, and certainly J.R. Tolkien, “Lord of the Rings”, a splash of romance, like “Dear John” I watched with Grace today, at her request, and a heavy emphasis of comedy, most recent view: “Birdcage” laughed till my stomach ached, drama,viewed last night with Cal and Grace: “Extraordinary Measures”, and more…  Those type of genres I find appealing in both the world of books and film.  And my work?  Well the nature of it keeps me going from one family to another.  Some I see twice in a week others once a month.  But regardless I am on the move.  Full of a variety of kids.  And my hair.  I go through periods of vast change mixed with the same thing for a couple of years.  The last six months the cuts have been about change.

I LOVE new.  I LOVE different.  I LOVE cutting edge.  Thank god I was too young to really submerge into the rebellion of the 60′s! I did enough on the outer burning off fringe of that era.

My friend once told me I was great at sensing what was going to be a new rage in room design.   She surprised me the day she said that, but then when I allowed myself the moment of stepping outside my insecurities I saw…yeah, that is or was true.  I say was because since the divorce money for such privileges sort of evaporated, so logically along with it went my “being in touch” with decorating shall we say.

To give you more of a glimpse into my tastes and variety in music I’m going to share…
When I was young, which honestly feels like yesterday, I played the violin for nearly four full years.  I was very good at the time.  Took first chair violinist from the minute I walked into the schools orchestra.  Which caused a great problem from the older girl who had to shift to the second chair.  At the time I had no idea what it meant to be 1st chair violinist, my teacher didn’t tell me.  She was a coach of the truest form.  Criticize constantly.  Praise.  Well, none.

I wanted to learn viola and cello and go on possibly to Julliard one day and would have except I had to stop learning when we moved to a school district that didn’t offer string instruments as a part of their curricula.  Since the years spun by and the separation from the instrument became a fact of life.  But I won’t say that I haven’t yearned to return to the stings and bow.  That I haven’t grown to longingly regret the day I turned my violin into my teacher.  But life took over.  Husband, children and with it time and money evaporated like smoke in the wind and that has left violin long behind.  And with it I have changed and wonder if I really have the drive to start again.  Or was that simply a part of my life.  Then.

So why the violin background info and how does it tie into my tastes in music?  Well here is where I share a couple bits that have been playing on my Youtube tonight…

Now I love most of the classical musics for stringed instruments however what these guys do is incredible.  See???  Multi-faceted.  That’s just me.  And that can make me a hard person to peg.  Figure out.  Follow.  And.  Well.  I like that about me.

Love ya, night,
Theresa Jane
-last post “Invisible Mikey” commented that that post allowed him to see me clearly.  I was startled.  But glad he told me.  Then I polled my friend Cathy and she agreed with more humph.  “Well,” I muttered to myself then let’s keep at this.  Keep trying to clear away the haze that blocks me from you.  And frankly me from… me.  And today was about that…

In case you’re wondering… the web site for our church is coming along nicely and I can’t wait to unveil it!  We are hoping to have it’s “beginnings” up by this weekend.  I say beginnings because a site of this sort is bound to grow and grow.

…You Tube update…Gateway to Heaven…

A couple weeks ago I decided I NEEDED to read.  Not anything deep, just a simple novel.  Something light, easy breezy, but with some substance, something just for pleasure, not to learn a single stinking, mind expanding, thought provoking thing whatsoever.  Well I found it.  “Bread Alone”.  And it fit me perfectly.  Did I mention that for like 12 years I made my own whole wheat bread for my family?  And not with a bread machine either.  I kneaded it with my two hands for years, then discovered the Kitchen Aid and from then on it was a love affair with a gray metal machine that whirled a paddle bar like no other and I nearly died living without after my divorce–I left it for my girls–till my kids got me one last Mother’s Day…  Anyways, the book’s main character, a woman has her husband announce that he wants a divorce and she’s getting in touch with her lost love of baking bread.  It talks some about the finer things of bread making and so forth and it made me feel so reminiscent.  Of my days when flour, water, yeast, salt and me created a bond and I learned, finally, with the aid of “Laurel’s Kitchen Bread Book” how to make the perfect, golden, high raised, hollow when you tap the bottom loaf.  I enjoyed the book so much I  bought it’s squeal and now I’m blazing through it.  I read while I earn money doing child care…when I can, I’m reading before sleep takes over, and I carry it with me to appointments and anywhere I suspect there might be down time…like at the garage today.  I just needed those books.  Sometimes a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

Update…laundry done… waiting to hear the gentle click that signals I can now lift the lid.  It can feel like a year before that click happens.

Okay, repeat of Stairway to Heaven…again…now dancing in my chair… because I’m alone and there’s no one around….

There’s the click! Annnnd laundry in now in dryer, at least what can endure the heat without shrinking.

Back in my chair and onto Pink Floyd…Wish You Were Here…because I wish Cathy were here and not in NY…almost too slow and a bit sadder then I was prepared to deal with, may have to click past this one.  Giving it a minute while I re-read what I’ve written so far.

Well, listened to the whole song allowed my self a moment of sweet saddness.  Now…Johnny Cash, “Hurt”.  A song that makes me cry and sob.  But astonishes me.  He didn’t write this song but he made it amazing and the video he made to accompany it received six nominations at the 2003 Video Music Awards, including one for Video of the Year.  Pretty good for a 71 year old country singing man.  I defy anyone to watch that video and not at least have to brush away one tear.

That man could write songs and sing.  Do you know about his career/life of 50 years??????????  And I don’t mean that you watched the movie, “Walk The Line”.  I didn’t like that movie, there was so much more to him than that movie ever portrayed.  Do you know that he thought it was his life calling to write and sing his songs?  He was totally dedicated till the day he died.  He was amazing.  Totally.  And as Cathy, just Imed me on Facebook “He was an amazing musician. Very definitely his own person.”  Maybe that’s what attracts me to him…never considered this before.

Want a touch of his history??  Watch this…

I grew up on Johnny and other country singers.  Of course once I reached my teens I never reveled to my parents that I liked the Country they listened to.  No no.  Because I also liked Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Elton John, The Bee Gee’s, and more.  Everyone was into Rock and Roll not Country.  Well, at least the kids around me and my cousins.  So I had to reject what my parents liked…right?  Well, this is something I regret.  Wish I had had the guts to have openly liked them.  Come out of my closet so to speak. LOL  This is something I raise my kids not to do.  To not hide their likes and dislikes.  To be who they are.  Well, for the most part it has certainly worked.  So much I have to tell some that their teachers may not be ones to do that with…I have great kids.  I raised them to be able to do things I couldn’t, such as be themselves, have confidence, they can do anything… and they got it all right.  Somehow.  Now their mom works on getting what she taught.  LOL  But I’m getting there.

…You Tube…update… Hurt has been playing over and over as I construct this section Johnny Cash and me…

At any rate I cried so hard when I heard Johnny Cash had died.  It was like a part of my childhood had died.  Can’t explain it.  I’ve not felt like that before with someone outside of me.  I still remember when I heard it.  I only remember where I was for one other famous occurrence and that was when the space shuttle exploded, which was also the day my first born son took his first steps and walked back and forth to his father and me with the news in the background reporting on the explosion.  For Cash’s death announcement I was listening to NPR they were doing a segment on him as a tribute to his life, I was on my way to sign papers to refinance the mortgage on the house I lived in when I was married.  My eyes were so swollen and puffy the bank guy was like, “Are you okay?”

You know, life is funny.  We spend so much time repelling things, things that we say we don’t want, but we do, that time slips past, we lose ourselves and we don’t discover who we are till we hit mid-life or later.  What a waste.  And with that Anna Nalick’s “Shine” the song that’s been on the You Tube repeat for many times so far…

Night love ya,
Theresa Jane
-and that’s how this post was written!!!!!!!   The blankness went away, but it took time.  Like a few hours of writing and Iming and laundry and researching and…
-oh and the music choices…I really don’t go around listening to most of those choices or any music for that matter…it’s just that I have times when I do have a listen.  Were I to really listen to music as a steady thing it would be more along the lines of more current, more mellow

Got something you need a new perspective on??  Get away from it for awhile.  Your focus will clear like a bright and sunny day.

Ain’t life great?!!!!!!!

Love ya,
Theresa Jane

Oh and BTW I love this song:

I must pause here and mention that as I type this I’m Iming with my son Zac on Facebook whose informing me that: “Your not going to like this but guess what?  Caleb signed himself up on Facebook.  He said he was going to tell you but I knew he wouldn’t and he said that he would say that he saw how much fun Facebook is and he wanted one”.  All I could say to him was, “Oh that stinker!!! and since I was already texting with my daughter Blessing I told her this little piece of information and then added, “My children!  LOL”  Of which she concurred   I’m also texting my other son John as we create a new web site.  LOL.  Technology!!!  Keeps you jumping that’s for sure!!  If not down right splintered at times.

So what’s the web site that we’re working on???????  This is what raises my ordinary day out from the dum dittiness and ramps it to something spectacular.  Remember I mentioned there were new things on the horizon and I couldn’t wait to tell you??  Well I can tell you a chunk today!  And that is that today we officially had our first church service.  That’s right we are now a 501 c3.  A church.  Our name is: Harmoney Health Wealth Spiritual Church.  We had seven in attendance, besides our teacher of course.

Now I know that this has raised some surprised eyebrows.  If not I have to say I’m the one surprised, since I’ve never mentioned or even hinted at this before.    So what are we about???  Weeeellllll, right off the bat I want to say that we aren’t your ordinary church.  We are a 21st century church to be sure.  First of all we don’t and won’t teach doctrine.  That’s for individuals to receive from their home churches.  Ergo the reason we don’t meet on Sundays.  We don’t want to interfere with that aspect of individuals lives.  We are here as an “addition” to what they are already doing.  We are about what our name states: teaching health, wealth, and spirituality and we are founded on 8 spiritual principles:

“Forgive and be forgiven.”
“Sow and reap what you give out.”
“Have eyes to see and ears to hear.”
“Treat others as you want to be treated.”
“Love your neighbor as you want to be loved.”
“Give your whole heart, soul, mind, and strength to THE CREATOR OF LIFE–God.”
“Visualize dreams, wishes, desires, and prayers as if they are happening NOW.”
“Be perfect–complete in love–as THE CREATOR OF LIFE (God) is perfect: loving all people.”

We believe that by learning to practice these principles all individuals are enabled to secure
ANYTHING and EVERYTHING
they want by creating the life they want to live.

Our church is lead by John Solomon Sandridge who is truly the most amazing human I know anywhere.  The man that gave me life through his skills as a Naturopathic Spiritual Intuitive.  I literally am alive today because of him and I’m alive and healthy and also have my inner healing because of…his teaching and his skills as a naturopath and life coach.

Now I want to add that this is just the tip of the ice berg when it comes to our church.  There is much, much more to tell.  And that I’m hoping that in addition to my chats with you the web site will fill a lot of that in real real soon.  But I will tell you that within a week we should be in our office that has a large area for church and two other rooms for offices!

All I can say is that tonight I’m smiling broadly.  All our work is coming together and beginning to birth.  What could be more satisfying??

Stay tuned because there is sooooo much more and it will keep coming.  In chunks and pieces.  But tonight I’m outta here, the bed beckons like a beacon in the night.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-over the weekend me and my business partners decided to take 30 days to focus on being positive only.  So every time we are negative we are to zap it by correcting it with being positive.  I’m really enjoying this practice, it’s making such a difference in me and my outlook.  You may want to join us.  If you chose to practice being positive till June 16th let me know!  It’s always better when a bunch of people do something together.

In the last few weeks…and months since the time Zac’s health became an issue the demands on my time have increased a ton.  I have worked as much as I did when my kids were all little and I home schooled.  Except this work falls outside of the relhm of housewife/mother.  My life has been jamming overtime.  And it wasn’t simply due to Zac and his needs.  My work has shot through the roof and I am working 6-7 days a week and often for two families in one day. I can work 9-12 hours a day several days a week.  Some days starting at 6 a.m.  Then we are planning and creating some very unique, cutting edge things with our business so in spite of the work I do to generate money, I am at meetings many times a week and working for hours on the projects. In between I squeeze my kids, maybe a movie, and some walking. Like today I worked 9:30 am-8 pm and afterwards I went to my kids house and Grace and I walked for 50 minutes in her neighborhood and talked for another half hour standing outside, by my car, in the cool of the evening and the soft light of the street lamps, surrounded by the soothing sounds of night critters.

I love these moments with my kids.  The night, the stillness, the pleasure of being and sharing…quietly…

Tonight held a specialness that was meaningful to us both.  I was able to share something with Grace that I never knew she didn’t know….
When my kids were little bitties I started collecting books and building a library for them.  Books are my thing.  Always have been since I was in second or third grade.  I even worked in a library once upon a time, when I was in highschool, and I would help the college students find resources that they were blank on how to find. Whenever they came to the library it was me the sought out.

I started my children’s library so that books would be ready and at their finger tips.  I built a library filled with classic literature, fun children’s novels series, marvelous picture book/little children’s books, ya know Seuss, I Can Read, Eric Carle, Margret Wise Brown, H. A. Rey. . .   history books of various levels 2nd-highschool.  Series of books that were known for their accuracy and being a good historical novel read.  I had science books by topic, and art books, and great novels for kids that have stood the test of time as well as were being currently published and were simply wonderful.  The library I drew together has likely two thousand volumes and it moved with us three times.  Today it resides in the finished basement of their home and until tonight my daughter had no earthly idea of its history.  She was quite young by the time I finally completed it so she didn’t know that when her brother John was 5 I started the collection by buying, at an auction, a library from an elementary school that closed and we hauled 35 tall, white boxes of books home, that I weeding through to cull out the good picture books, children classics, and the science and history ones worth keeping… probably a hundred.  Then there were the years of library sales, garage sales, and the Berry Hill Book Store in Clinton, New York that houses an incredible store, inside an old barn, that is three stores high and I can’t even tell you how deep.  The best, most organized used book store I have ever been in anywhere, ever on the planet.  We went there frequently and always to their clearance sale in the very early summer where we competed with a line of people each carrying a box to fill with his $1 a book bargain days.  We were there John, Blessing and I each with a box.  Every time we filled one John hauled it to the check out, took it to the car, dumped it, and returned for us to fill again.

I was very careful and particular with my book choices because you can own a boat load of books but have very little of real value at the end of the day.  Oh, I let the kids have random books and they enjoyed them but when it came to the library that was another matter all together…that was for the books that have and would stand the test of time.  Others that would give super educational value with ease, wonder, and fun.  And today that library is still being used.  Something I was unaware of.  Grace tells me that I have a ton of the books that the elementary school has, the one she left in the fall to move on to middle school but Cal and Dan attend.  She can’t tell me how many times Cal is disappointed that he wanted to get a certain book out of the school library and it wasn’t there and she tells him, “We have that in the basement you know?”  Then she tells me how many times she was able to do full projects for school from those same books and how thankful she was for the ones that are “resource only” at school and she couldn’t take out but she could sit on her basement floor and do her project with the same book.  This touched my heart.  I didn’t know this, being that the divorce is going on 5 years I’ve missed a lot of this sort of end of the nitty gritty of their lives simply by not being there, in the house in the swirl of the daily.  And it really didn’t seem to stand out for her to tell me till tonight.  And when I found out the books that I lovingly gathered for my children, all those years ago, for their enrichment are indeed still being used when I thought it wasn’t caused tears to swell in my eyes. My labor of love continues to give…

I love books.  They seem to grow up out of the floor boards wherever I am. 

There is so much more I could write!  But the bed beckons.

Night for now…love ya,
Theresa Jane
–Soon I will be writing about what’s current with our business. I’m excited about sharing it and looking forward to when I can. Plus I’m excited to go from planning to doing.  Can’t hardly wait. We’ve done a lot of work that is finally coming together into the most wonderful way making the work all worth while.

I have to say that I’m looking forward to this moment with unusual anticipation.  To file my first ever envelope, with what I tracked all month, makes me feel very proud of myself.  I started at this goal of getting it together with my financial life the end of last month and thus far I have stuck with it.  This is truly a first for me in this area.  Typically I would say I’m going to take diligent action in this area of my life only to not have the slightest thing change.  Well, except for this…I can say that I’ve saved receipts on and off for the years since my divorce.  Saved them till my wallet bulged and was unable to be properly snapped shut.  Then when the bulge became annoyingly unbearable I would carefully remove the pile and insert them into a security envelope, mark the approximate dates on the front and deposit the envelope into a drawer.  Anticipating the day when I would take proper care of those small slips of paper full of numbers and totals.  I think I have about 7 of those envelopes all total.  All safe and sound in my drawer.

Oddly enough as much as I have avoided paperwork, tracking expenses…all things accounting/tracking/bills/expenses I have always loved how paperwork looks when it’s all nice and tidy.  All in a nice organized fashion.  Like when I got my taxes back from my tax lady.  Two piles of precision.  Paper clipped and organized.  I took one look at them and thought, that must be why she’s an accountant, she’s in love with the finished product.  In love with the order that she just created.

However that has had no pull on me to improve in this area over the years.  None whatsoever.  Nor has countless overdraft charges, or the approaching April 15th date that draws ever nearer with every day that passes and I go nearly mad gathering all the necessary information together worried stiff that I might miss something.  It has taken the monumentalness of having to stay on top of our businesses that has riveted me to the determination to press on to overcoming this troubled, confused area in my life…and I’m thankful because with each day I’m feeling more confident and less scattered.  I’m feeling more…hummm…more responsible and together and more worthy of the goodness of life in the area of business and money.

I encourage everyone with the same scattered way of dealing with this area to finally take this bull by its horns and get it together.  You’ll be so glad you did.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane
-whose thankful for the time I had at lunch with my daughter Blessing, for the broad smile from Grace when I intercepted her from getting on her bus after school and took her with me instead, the time I had at the park with Cal, Dan, Grace, and Blessing, for the sun that shone and made everything appear all crystal clear and fresh, the slight breeze that acts to dry the soil from the sogginess of winter, the report that my mother is doing very well today and things are improving, IV’s are coming out and her heart rate has stabilized and she’s moving out of the ICU into a progressive unit and should be home soon, for my health, for my life, for the day off, for the brisk walk and conversation I shared with my friend, for silly giggles from my children, for their hugs of love, for improved health with Zac, and for my truck that took me all over today, and for you and all your support, I thank you…

What’s been going on?  Here’s the highlights…

Tuesday my daughter Blessing took her car into the garage.  She called me while I was at work to tell me the mechanic told her that it was going to cost so much to fix her car she may as well trade it in and not to drive it anymore than she had to, if at all.  She doesn’t have the money for such a venture so the call was awash with tears and sobs.  She cried on and off pretty much the rest of the day.  I was working till 8 that night so I was not able to help her any.  In that time she went to a couple nearby car places and discovered she can’t get a loan without a co-signer.  I don’t qualify to co-sign, her father won’t.  Sooooo Wednesday, after I took Zac home from school at 11:30 and made him a lunch, I spent the day holding my daughter together as we: went to a bank to see what could be done.  Result…too young, no credit.  Went to a used car lot where her brother got his car and 8 of his co-workers.  She liked a car, the price was very good, but still she would need another $2,700 on top of her car to buy it.  Which she doesn’t have.  So we left.  By then it was time for us both to go to our evening employment.  She was doing pretty good by then.  Frustrated, but better.

The result of her car troubles?  On Thursday we had a little family meeting with her father, me, and her sister Sarah.  Why Sarah?  Well, this was where Sarah found out that the car that her father bought last summer for her to use to drive to school really wasn’t as he told her, “her” car, it was his and she could use it and now Blessing was get it to use for a few months, till she saved up the money she needed to buy another car.

This was the point where we all waited for Sarah’s 17 year old reaction…  I have to say that we were all pleasantly surprised.  She took it very well.  Oh, she wasn’t twinkling but she wasn’t screaming and such.  So, that was great.  I’m proud of her.

Course the way her father had lined up the conversation had left her little room.  He said, “In this family whenever someone needs help we do what we can to help them.  Well your sister needs help in a major way since her car is undriveable.  So I’m going to let her use my car, which you drive for the next few months…”  But believe me, even with that line up we were all holding our breath on this one, ready for the tsunami to rise up out of the ocean.  So far there’s been none and it’s been a week.  PHEW.

Last Thursday, after a two hour meeting in the morning brain storming the creation of a video that our business is going to be shooting, I took Zac to a doctor appointment.  We were there for soooooo long that Zac fell asleep.  Sooooo long that even I fell asleep, sitting upright, in a slouchy position, elbows propped on the arm rests, head dropped sideways, right there in the middle of the waiting room.  This may not sound like a big deal to you but this isn’t something I do…fall asleep in a busy waiting room.  You know, a waiting room, the place where a bunch of people surround you sitting with spouses, children, friends, and relatives.  The place where everyone’s all butted up against each other trying to act like there’s no one around them until something occurs and forces the issue.  The place where everyone’s faces are turned up watching the show that’s broadcasting on the very small TV suspended from the ceiling, regardless of what’s on because it gives everyone something to distract themselves with.  The TV that I’m so thankful for because until a few years ago there wasn’t a single TV to be found in any waiting room in any hospital leaving my children and I to log up teem hours in a “time warp” of nothingness…  Yeah, that’s the place I fell completely asleep.   All that down time, just sitting, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting, I just couldn’t keep my eyes open.  I was so out that after about 40 minutes of sleep I woke up, looked around, saw others were asleep and zoned directly back out again.  And here’s the thing…I didn’t care.  All total, I believe I slept an hour and 10 minutes.

I guess there really is a first for everything.

As sleepy as I may have been waiting for the appointment I wasn’t when I left.  I was feeling energized.  The tests showed that things have improved.  Not tons and bunches, but they’ve improved.  Improvement is wonderful.  Improvement is comforting.  Improvement is what is necessary to keep my son off dialysis.  So hooray for improvement regardless of how small.

Otherwise this past week I’ve worked a ton.  I’ve been with my kids.  Had meetings.  Planned and progressed with our businesses.  Watched the movie “Precious”, not all at once the time wouldn’t permit that so it had to be viewed in two different chunks.  Nearly finished Trumps book, “Think Big and Kick Ass”.  Found another that I bought, “Never Be Late Again”–I have high hopes for that book, see I have this little problem in that department–, my mother went into the hospital on Sunday, she’s having a problem with a valve in her heart, so been on the phone a lot with that situation. Some times living closer would be nice.  It took the entire day to muddle through the hysteria and second hand information from different ones in and out of the family.  Having been in the medical world for nearly 19 years I have learned to take things slow and stay calm, not chose the scary words to build “diagnosis” out of, and how to really listen.  I was so glad when I finally was able to speak to a nurse, late that night, who gave me the correct information which took my mother from a major, she’s going to die, heart attack to what it is, not a heart attack, but a valve not working properly and needs surgery to repair.  She doing better.  She’s in ICU and will remain there for possibly a week as her heart rate randomly keeps going up.  They’ll do surgery when she’s stronger.  Most likely in a few weeks.  She’s nervous but I think she’s doing well with the whole thing considering they’ll have to do open heart surgery and that is not something she wants to do at all.

After all this I know you’re asking, “What is going on with your business?”  Well LOTS!!!!!  And I only wish I could tell you what the direction and plans are and that we’re actively bringing into life.  But I can’t just yet…

And came out of my slump I wrote about last.
I can’t just yet, but soon I’ll be able to and I’m looking forward to that day.

Night, love ya,
Theresa Jane