Tears of Joy

Emotions got the best of me when Shawn Johnson won the gold on the beam earlier this week. I felt happy for a kid who has worked so hard and had so much determination to be the best she can be. I admire that in people, but especially in kids.

But this blog isn't about her determination, her drive or achieving a dream. It's about her parents. When I saw her dad burying his head into his crying wife's shoulder so no one would see him cry, that's when I lost it. I wasn't blubbering, but there was no stopping the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

I've cried for my daughters' smiles and joy. I've choked back quite a few tears so they wouldn't see me. They wouldn't get it, really. They have caught me on a few occasions, and that's okay. Like when Leia played with the youth orchestra on the stage at Severance Hall for the first time. She knew it that night, but by 16, she figured out that I was a sap. I choked back a few the first time I saw her playing with the Volta Sound on a dirty stage in a dingy club. The place didn't matter. She was doing what she always wanted to do and loving it. Watching Kileigh brush her favorite horse, Jack, could do it. She would talk to him and pat him while she tacked him up to ride. She took control of taking care of him before and after her lesson, and that was heartwarming to me, because she was a kid whom many people said she lacked control of herself. I knew that wasn't true, by the way.

I could hardly contain myself when we gave Kileigh her card that announced she was going to horse camp for her 12th birthday and when Leia shared that she played "Stars and Stripes" while she watched the Olympic torch pass by in Australia in 2000. She played the piccolo solo, something else she dreamed of doing when she got her first piccolo.

I've cried over watching them open presents, read out loud, looking like cherubs while napping, playing piano, and on the first day of school for almost their whole school careers; waiting for a bus or for me to drive them to the sitter in their new shoes holding their new lunch boxes with anticipation on their faces for the new school year.

Parents do that when their kids are happy. It wasn't about being rewarded for their time and sacrifice, mortgaging their house three times to support Shawn. It was about feeling joy for their child because she was happy.

Sunflowers

When my friend's little boy sees sunflowers, he walks up to them, puts his face close to theirs, and smiles. He thinks they smile at him. I think he's right. They make me smile, so who is to say they aren't smiling first?

clothes these days...

What's up with clothes these days? Is it me? Or are clothes either geared to juniors and really skinny women OR plus sized women? Is there nothing in between for middle aged women who don't yet fit the Alfred Dunner crowd and have long been past the look for juniors? For women who swim in plus sized clothes but feel like sausages in sizes that are "supposed" to fit?

I am in that dreaded stage. The stage in life where the latest fashions are those that I wore twenty, if not more, years ago: baby doll tops with ruffles, the "Flashdance" look, tunic sweaters, skinny-legged pants, leggings, for God's sake. Now, I have heard that if a style has come back around in one's lifetime, you are too old to wear it. That brings up a whole other issue. If you have any kind of fashion sense, and if you are in the middle-aged-a-lot-heavier-than-you-were-in-your-thirties stage, we have problems. Lord knows we don't want to be walking around looking like middle aged women trying to hang on to our youth by wearing juniors styles. At the same time, I don't feel comfortable buying everything Coldwater Creek has to offer. Some things just feel like old lady clothes to me. I hate always having to ask, "Can you see too much fat in this?", or, "Is this too old lady for me?"

Yesterday I got a cute top at Target. It was a tunic, with a drawstring at the bottom, and some fabric that hung below. (Not a ruffle, I have to say.) It is loose, long, and I felt good in it. I actually bought some leggings to wear with it! I figured the top was modern enough to get away with it. I have yet to try them on, so if I feel like the hippos sporting fupas in "Fantasia" they are going back.
In any case, the top is cute.
Too bad I had to shop in the maternity department.

Addictions

Do you see how the word, 'addictions' begins with the three letters, ADD? I'm sure it's no coincidence. I just spent two and a half hours of my life on mylot.com. Don't even go there. I didn't supply my user link purposefully, in order to save others from doing the same. People make money there by having others click on their link and make up discussions, respond to discussions, etc. It's like YouTube in that you respond to something interesting, and it takes you on a twisted path to another topic, and another, and another, and before you know it, two and a half hours go by. Argh! This summer I've been addiction to playing Crazy Cakes on Pogo. My sister got me hooked on Squelchies. "Run away! Run away!" they call in their cute little voices! That's what I need to do! Aaaaaaa! Run awaaay!

Recently, I was addicted to making bracelets. Pretty stones, beads, crystals and toggles and the sounds they made in the little plastic bins when I ran my fingers through them looking for just the right one. Analyzing and re-doing the pattern of the beads so there wasn't an obvious pattern but just enough to satisfy the Libra in me.

I've been addicted to shopping for scrapbooking materials. More so to the shopping than to the using of them. But, to my credit, I have used almost everything in the five huge scrapbooks I've made for our children.

I can't walk past a pile or bed of rocks without scouring them. Or at least slowing down for a long gander. I've been known to steal rocks out of the Starbucks parking lot.

I collected pigs for a long time, but I don't know if that was an addiction or a hobby. I was selective. I didn't have to have every pig I saw, and stuck to unique pigs and antiques for the most part. I got rid of my collection save for maybe five to ten with sentimental values. My sister stopped collecting pigs when she inadvertently ate some cooked pig testicles at a bar she worked at. The guy who brought them in lied to her about what they were and she devoured several, nearly puking when he told her what they were. She went home and hid every pig in her collection after feeling they were all looking at her after what she had done. lol!

I've been addicted to collecting things for my children's collections: Beanie Babies, Happy Meal sets, especially when they were based on movies like Bambi, Pocahontas, The Little Mermaid; Happy Meal Barbies, action figures such as Mask, Star Wars, Sailor Moon, X-Files. I actually had my own collection of X-Files figures, and played with them, too!

When I was a kid, I collected stamps. I liked the envelopes of stamps you could get in the backs of magazines like Mad or Grit for 25 cents. Someone in some foreign country ripped the stamps off of envelopes and sold them to kids like me. It was fun to see the different stamps from around the world. I collected stamps until about sixth grade, when Joann Swerthofer, one of my best friends, came over with her collection to trade with me. Her idea of collecting stamps and mine were two different things. She had these neatly preserved books of stamps, minted stamps and such, and her I was with all these envelopes of used stamps from around the world and miscellaneous stamps in wax envelopes. I don't know why I didn't collect after that. Maybe I outgrew it, lost interest, who knows? I don't know where my stamps all went. My brothers and sister might know.

I'm addicted to diet Pepsi. That's not a good thing. I can be addicted to potato chips and the combination of peanuts and root beer. If I start eating those things it can be hard to stop. And nacho cheese Doritos.

I've been addicted to romance. That's not a bad thing if it's directed to the right person and the love is there to support it.

I wish I was addicted to something like exercise.

I'm addicted to this blog for the moment.

But I am definitely going to swear off mylot. Let's see, I began by responding to a woman who wondered if she should move back to her hometown area and leave her dear, widowed stepfather behind on the south coast. Then I responded to a question about virginity. From there it went to reading about whether women should shave their private areas. Then it took me to whether men should shave their chests. I was about to respond to a guy who posted a picture of his chest and realized that it was time to go. And never go back.

Troyer Farms

I saw a Troyer Farms van driving down the street today...in Ohio! I didn't think you could buy Troyer Farms potato chips anywhere but Pennsylvania. They are the best chips ever. They actually taste like potatoes, unlike many of the chips available on the average supermarket shelf. When I was a kid, it wasn't a party unless there was Troyer Farms chips and French onion dip. I could have visited the Troyer Farms factory when I was a junior or senior in high school, but I didn't like the teacher (because I didn't think she liked me) and skipped out on the field trip. Looking back I was being a snot. The kids all came back and told me what a good time it was, and I was a little jealous and sheepish about not going. Now, I like to watch how food is made on "Unwrapped." So, Mrs. Tubbs, you were right, I should have gone on the trip to see how my favorite chip was made. They even got free samples.

POTATO FUN FACTS (from the Troyer Farms website)
- More potatoes are grown than any other vegetable in the world.
- A potato is 80% water and 20% solid
- The average American eats 124 pounds of potatoes a year.
- The average American eats 6 pounds of potato chips in a year.