Hey Everyone! Just wanted to do a little post for my cousin, Jeremiah. He's leaving Thursday to go live and study at Word of Life Institute in Brazil for a year. We'll miss him! My friend Natalie and I used to play this song for each other all the time our Senior Year in high school. Jerm, I'm leaving you with the same words, thoughts, and song. The sentiment - friends or family, should be the same. Good Luck! Enjoy! :)


Packing up the dreams God planted
in the fertile soil of you
Can't believe the hopes He's granted
means a chapter in your life is through

But we'll keep you close as always
It won't even seem you've gone
'Cause our hearts in big and small ways
Will keep the love that keeps us strong

And friends are friends forever
if the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go
in the Father's hands we know
that a lifetime's not too long
to live as friends

With the faith and love God's given
Springing from the hope we know
We will pray the joy you'll live in
is the strength that now you show

But we'll keep you close as always
It won't even seem you've gone
'Cause our hearts in big and small ways
Will keep the love that keeps us strong

And friends are friends forever
if the Lord's the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never
'Cause the welcome will not end
Though it's hard to let you go
in the Father's hands we know
that a lifetime's not too long
to live as friends

FRIENDS - MICHAEL W. SMITH

Merry Christmas All! I know it won't surprise any of you to know I've been thinking about Erin alot lately. It's funny what the holidays will do to you. I've been thinking about how, since Thanksgiving, I've been trying to write this blog. Just like I was trying to find the right time to send Erin her CD after some guy broke her heart (it's still here), and wanted to call her, but never wanted her to feel like she had to talk, if she didn't have the energy, or was having a bad day and just wanted to lay around alone for a bit. It's this flooding of memories and all I wanted to do and didn't which prodded me to finally sit down and write about her.

For all of you who never got the opportunity to meet or know Erin, what a loss! I first "met" Erin in 1992 on a Name That Tune bullitan board. A young woman everyone called "Senator" who LOVED Don Henley. I graduated from high school in 1993 and, as a present, was given a week in California with Erin. I remember being unable to take my eyes off Erin. She had this way about her that just drew people to her. She was so happy and smiling and full of life. Erin said she had planned a tour of her favorite places to eat in California, beginning by leaving the airport and heading to dinner with her friend, Maralynn. I have never enjoyed an entire week more. We did everything, including a baseball game (which turned into going back the next day for game two), Stanford, Fisherman's Wharf, Disneyland, Cheesecake Factory in Marina Del Ray, Carmel, Fourth of July at a friend's house and fireworks over the ocean viewed from the end of a cul-de-sac, UCLA, Rodeo Drive (at 2am, so we wouldn't spend money! :) ), and ending at the Falafel Hut in Campbell. That trip she also introduced me to raw silk shirts for hot summer days, alfalfa sprouts and avocado on sandwiches, and espardrilles. We met people and Erin charmed people everywhere we stopped. The only thing that kept me from being sad when I left was knowing I'd see her in Boston the following weekend!

Erin and I lost touch when I went to college. Then one day, our of the blue, I got a postcard from her as she was...I think it was backpacking around Europe, or in Canada, or something. I wondered if the trip meant her mother, whom had breast cancer when I first met Erin, had passed. I finally got the nerve up to ask her July of 2000, while we were in New Orleans. I heard Erin was living in New York right before she was leaving. We tried to make plans to meet up in the city, but it fell through. We did, however, get a bit better about staying in touch. We would talk on Instant Message every time we were on at the same time and occasionally send catching-up emails.

We met up again in New Orleans in July of 2000. We had a wonderful time with our friends from Name That Tune! We were staying at a hotel on Bourbon Street, and were laying around talking about our lives and such before we had to get up and get ready for our "night on the town". Neil called and Erin answered it, chatted with him a bit, then handed the phone off to me as we both were getting ready to head down to the Cat's Meow. Erin got up on stage alone and sang "Stay" by Lisa Loeb. It was wonderful! (I have pictures, if you can tell that the dot on stage is Erin! :) )

In one of her emails, Erin informed us her father was diagnosed with cancer and it wasn't a long-term prognosis. After her father passed, Erin announced her intent to travel to every ballpark in the U.S. to raise money for The Jimmy Fund and to honor her father's memory. I was so excited for her! How fun! Erin and I again tried to meet up, but she was north when I was south and vica versa. I enjoyed reading about her journeys across the U.S. and could just picture Erin in every situation she encountered - the people she met, the situations she was in...I laughed and smiled, knowing how in just a few short minutes, Erin would make all those people fall in love with her. what better spokesperson could cancer and cancer research have, than this woman whose smile lit up a room and made you feel like she was family. I just knew ever person she met would end up sending money or supporting her cause.

Everyone talks about how different America has been since September 11, 2001. There is a small (comparatively to the population of America) core of people for whom life after September 11th is so changed, that the life before it hardly seems like it belonged to the same person. While not due directly to that incident, I feel as though from that day on, my life has done a complete 180. The month or so following September 11th, were tough on our family. My father, who checked out of the WTC Marriott less than 30 minutes before the first plane attacked, was dealing (we believe), not only with that incident, but with some distant part of his memory from Vietnam. It took alot of rallying around him to help him deal with much of his experience from that day. And, little did I know then, but about 3 months from that day, I would have my heart truly broken, quit my job and move home to deal with the aftermath of my "tragedy".

Erin's family changed that day too. Erin was on her New york leg of her trip on September 11th. She was staying with friends, and while not in the immediate area, deeply affected by what happened. We would not learn until a few weeks later, just exactly why this incident hit Erin especially hard. During Erin's Strikeoutcancer tour, she found a lump in her breast. Upon returning home, Erin learned that it was indeed cancer. She opted for chemotherapy and was positive she would beat this disease. On August 9, 2002, I logged onto our NTT website board I started and Erin had posted this message to us all:


[8/9/2002 10:49:41 AM | erin hamilton]
Hello, all. Sorry it took me so long to get here, but when you hear my story, I think you'll forgive my quietness.

Things have been going pretty well with my treatment. I finished my eighth round of chemo in May and started radiation in June for 7 and a half weeks. Unfortunately, toward the middle/end of radiation I just started feeling really, really sick, and we couldn't figure out what it was coming from. I was getting horrible headaches. As first we thought they might be migraines, but they lasted for a month without reprieve, no matter what medication I tried. It got to a point where I couldn't even lay my head on the pillow without causing incredible pain. One night it got so bad I actually started hallucinating that there were a group of people (nice people, at least) walking around my apartment, kind of like the inhabitants of the movie The Sixth Sense. The next morning I went into my doctor's office, he took one look at me and checked me into the hospital for a couple of days.

While there, he ran an MRI of my brain, among other tests, and confirmed our suspicsions that the cancer has moved on through my bloodstream into other parts of my body. With certainty, we know that there are now three malignant brain tumors, one on the left frontal lobe, one on the left cerebellum and on on the right parietal occipital. They do not expect that brain surgery would be effective for these, as they are quite spread out, but there is an option of treatment that looks to be very, very, good. They have already started treating the brain with a low dose radiation, to the whole thing, with the hope of eradicating any demon cancer cells that may just be sitting around but not large enough to see in tumor form. The next step, which they will start next week, is a radiation treatment called IMRT, which is kind of like playing a highly targeted game of Asteroids with my brain tumors. They plot out a computer plan, then use a face mask and a radar gun to get the radiation to where it needs to go. Each of these sessions lasts about half an hour, and I will have twenty of them, every weekday for four weeks. So, come the middle of September, I fully expect to see myself cancer free, and would appreciate your good thoughts, prayers, energy, or whatever you believe in to help me get there.

I can not explain how strong my belief is that this is going to turn out well. They've thrown some pretty scary words at me, like "Stage IV Cancer", "low survival rates", and things like that, but I somehow really have this feeling that this treatment is going to be exactly what I need and will take care of everything. I have incredible doctors that make me feel listened to and cared for and a team of nurses and office staff that are behind me 100% (not to mention the best friends in the world). I'm sorry I've been out of touch, but you have never been far from my thoughts. I listen to your cds often, and still think that was the sweetest gift I've gotten since this whole thing started out. Your thoughts and kindness mean very much to me! Love, Erin

As you can imagine, we were all devestated. I wanted to fly out and sit by her side-hold her hand-make things lighter and easier. but, I couldn't see Erin ever accepting my offer. She never seemed to doubt for a minute that she was stronger than this disease. We prayed, I sent emails she didn't have to answer, I tried calling, but her voicemail box was always full. I was never surprised. I'm sure she was surrounded by people who loved her and wanted to help her. We learned that on November 21, 2002 Erin had passed away.

I can't really say it's been hard on me. Erin was such a wonderful person. She was so full of life and energy and love. Every person she met (and there were LOTS) she touched and changed their lives forever. Erin had a way of making you want to take the trip you'd always wanted to, to try bungee jumping b/c it seemed exciting, to pick up and try something new...to make you want to fit as much into every second of every day as you could. She, apologizing for the corny Jack Nicklson quote, made you want to be a better person, if only to try and keep up with her! :) And for this reason, I know there are so many people she touched, so many people who will be better people because of her.

As for an emotion, I am pretty torn. I wish I could say I was terribly sad. But I'm not. I can't see Erin slowing down, cancer or no. I really think it's hard to keep a spirit that big and full of life trapped in a body unable to house it. Suffering and being "sapped" is not Erin's style. What makes me sad, is the thing I never got to do, or say...all the times I should've called, or emailed, or gone to see her. I'm sad for me, not for her. And the truth is, I can't really say I know she's gone. Every once in awhile, since Thanksgiving, I want to call her. See how's she's doing. More like the message we got at Thanksgiving was that she's cancer-free and Erin's out running around, living life again. And maybe she is. Every once in awhile, I can see Erin, arriving at Heaven, met by her parents. Then running around hugging all those she knows...and then off, to fulfill her spirit. Perhaps her first stop...Field of Dreams.

Hey Guys! I've been so busy I am usually asleep before I hit the pillow. It's ashame too b/c I've got so much to say! :)

The biggest point is that I had a phone interview yesterday that went pretty well with Methodist College in Fayetteville, NC. The Administration feels they might get more applicants if they search in May, so they MIGHT open the search up in the spring. Got home last night from a Christmas party I went to with mom and there was a message from GMU about trying to schedule an interview with them! (Near SO MANY of you guys!!!) I'm pretty excited about that one!

In other news, I heard from Mike that Neil and Christy are headed to Vegas to "support" Shabosky as he gets engaged. You know that kicked in the stomach feeling? Yeah, since I heard that...me too. I guess I just feel that for milestones in Neil and his friends lives, I should be the one standing by his side. It sucks! Part of me hopes he gets married soon #1 b/c I bet everyone she'd be pregnant or rope him into marriage a year from when I left and the time's almost up and #2 maybe it will help me finally put these feelings behind me, so they don't keep popping up and surpising me just when I think they're gone!

I can't believe Christmas is already here, and before you know it...Super Bowl will be here and so will my 1 year anniversary of the big move back to NJ. It feels like I've been away from NC forever!!! (and trapped feeling like this for more than just one year...but then I guess when you consider the whole year before I moved was the same way...maybe 2 years isn't so short!)

Since I've been running around trying to save the world, I have gotten NO Christmas shopping done. So, if some of you get your presents late...I'm sorry. Also, Hank, I hope you are doing o.k. More importantly I hope your wife has recovered from that nasty Deja Vu you scared her with!!! ;) I'm sending you my thoughts and prayers. (Oh, BTW, this came up in our house Sunday when mom said she was cutting you slack about only having 10 wins...til I pointed out she only had 9!!! ;) )

Anyway, here's a little song lyric break to hold you over til I get the time to write about Erin (which I SO want to do lately!) and write more about me...which I know you all love!

These Days
Rascal Flatts

Hey baby, is that you? Wow, your hair got so long!
Yeah, yeah, I love it, I really do.
Norma Jean ain't song we'd sing in the car driving down town.
Top down, makin' the rounds, checkin' out the bands on Doheny Avenue.
Yeah, life throws you curves but you learn to swerve.
Me, I swung and I missed, and the next thing you know,
I'm into missin': dreamin' on dreams, wishin' on wishes.
Like you would be back again.

I wake up and teardrops, they fall down like rain.
I put on that old song, we danced to, and then,
I head off to my job: guess not much has changed.
Punch the card, head for home, check the 'phone, just in case.
Go to bed, dream of you:
That's what I'm doin' these days.
Yeah, that's what I'm doin'.

Someone told me, after college, you ran off to Vegas.
You married a rodeo cowboy, why, that ain't the girl I knew.
Me, I've been a few places, mostly here and there one or twice.
Still sortin' out life but I'm doin' all right,
Yeah, it's good to see you too.
Well, hey girl, you're late, and those planes, they don't wait.
But if you ever come back around this sleepy old town,
Promise me, you'll stop in to see an old friend, and until then:

I wake up and teardrops, they fall down like rain.
I put on that old song, we danced to, and then,
I head off to my job: guess not much has changed.
Punch the card, head for home, check the 'phone, just in case.
Go to bed, dream of you:
That's what I'm doin' these........

I wake up and teardrops, they fall down like rain.
I put on that old song, we danced to, and then,

I wake up and teardrops, they fall down like rain.
I put on that old song, we danced to, and then,

I wake up and teardrops, they fall down like rain.
I put on that old song, we danced to, and then,

Alright, here we go. I'm sorry I have not written in awhile. It seems like I haven't had any free time, but I'm sure that cannot be true. Anyway, While I struggle trying to make the reality of Erin being gone sink in, I've been trying to write a blog about her, but as of yet, it is not complete. And I didn't want to not write anything just b/ cit wasn't done, so here's the life nutshell since the last post.

I got a call on the Tuesday after the wedding to see if I could work Wed. and Mon. around Thanksgiving at a school in Deptford called St. John of God. It is a school for mentally disabled children and adults. So I worked Wed. fighting traffic and arriving about 20 minutes late b/c of it. (not to mention I had trouble getting out of bed since I'm not used to being up AND I'm off my Pill - sorry guys - so my poor body thinks every day is the end of the month. Gotta get my natural hormones back in check. Anyway...) Lisa, the Purchaser, stayed with me most of the day I was there (I left at 2:30 b/c I told them when I said I'd do it that I had an appointment to get my hair cut at 3pm.). It was nice, but I was shy (can you believe it) and didn't much feel like talking about me. The highlight of Wed. was the parade of 4 year olds that went by my desk. SO cute!

So, my baking day out the window, we scrapped the football game at my mom's high school so I could make dinner (and b/c it was 30 degrees outside and we're not really nuts, no matter how we come off! :) ). I was just coming out of the shower I jumped into quickly before everyone arrived when Don called me from Wisconsin to tell me he had tried to call Erin and her phone had been disconnected. You all know how this ends, so I found out from the website just as my grandparents and uncle arrived for dinner. I cried a little, emailed everyone, and then called Don. Told mom, found her after she locked herself in the bathroom, to make sure she was o.k. Then headed downstairs b/c dad was trying to do the potatoes for me, but they had lumps and he wasn't sure how to fix it. (As they were when I got down there, he'd added alot of milk, so they resembled Neil's hand mashed variety...but since Neil's were always good and not runny, I knew Dad's would be good too.) The rest of the day went pretty well. I hand made everything (except one batch of stuffing that wasn't cornbread, since dad doesn't like it, and was Stove Top; and the pie crust to two of the pies. Did the third one from scratch, with g-mom.) As soon as we'd gobbled down dinner (which took all of 10 minutes. No kidding. I had a pie in the oven that had to go to a lower temp after 10 minutes and we finished eating just as the timer went off.), I was back in the kitchen making 2 lasagnas for Friday night's dinner. Since my uncle was in town, I thought my grandmother might try and cook (or go out, which she doesn't do well much either. She hardly orders anything, can't read the menu and gets tired quickly), so I made a lasagna for them to take home for dinner and hey, what's one extra...one for us. We watched football, chatted, ate pie, visited with Sean when he stopped by and off to bed. Day over! :)

Friday is our tree day! I got to sleep in, then off to pick out or Christmas tree. We get a fresh cut one every year, so Black Friday is the day we trudge through the field...feeling rustic and settler-ish to pull the tag off our tree! :) O.k., so maybe the settlers didn't have tags and organized tree fields, but at least we don't take the tractor to the trees...we walk! :) (And this year, almost lost 2 family members into the creek as we scrunched to the side of the path we thought we were lost on as the tractor went by!) Then, off to lunch. As family bonding time was over, we made our way home and all split up. I, being the brave one I am, ventured to Wal-Mart and endured the joy of the holiday listening to not one single person in the store speak English. (Even thought Jill told me ebonics is technically English, if I can't understand it...not English! :) ) Then to the grocery store b/c mom hadn't planned anything ahead of time for the family gathering on Saturday and needed some groceries. Then, finally home! :) YEA!!!! And Lasagna!!!! YEA!!!!

Saturday, I felt like I was up early...whether or not anyone agrees that 9 is early is irrelevant. Jill and I headed to Trish's mom's house for Bridal dress shopping. It was a fun day and the dress she picked is gorgeous. I was getting nervous, b/c I wasn't really moved by any of the ones until that one. One wedding dress, lunch and a Green Apple Martini later, we were back at my house to hang with the fam. After going through pictures my grandmother had brought, eating, and trying to find reason for a life that doesn't seem to have one at the moment, Saturday too had passed. Whew! Is anyone else exhausted yet?

Sunday Dad and I headed to the gym. We needed it! :) Then we met mom at the diner for lunch and headed out to find mom a dress for my Aunt Lois' daughter's wedding which is this Saturday. (the fiasco wedding...which gets better...more to come on that! :) ) We procured one very nice dress for mom, an even nicer New Year's Eve outfit (glad someone has plans), a new cell phone avec accessories for me, and home to watch the Eagles eek one out over St. Louis. (Mike, if you're reading this, 2 quick things. One, We are sorry Feeley couldn't play all 4 against your Niners, but even still, I'm sure the result would've been the same! and Two, if you speak with Neil, please mention to him I would like to thank Ricky Proehl for letting so many balls slip right through his fingers! Wee need more oppnents like him! :) ) Off to bed...gotta work tomorrow.

Funny thing about life, just when you think you might have a handle on yours, it changes. I was feeling a little more confident as I headed into St. John's this morning. Can't quite pinpoint the exact day or time I became shy or introverted, but I don't like it...even though it feels so "safe". Apparently I get 2 breaks and an hour lunch. Vunderbar! So, the head guy for the receptionist pops his head in and says a woman named Carol will be relieving me for my breaks. Promptly at 10am, a sweet woman (about 35 or so) named Carol pops in all loud and friendly and shoos me out to the bathroom, stretch my legs, whatever! Well, you know me, I can't just roam aimlessly, so I bathroomed, looked around a bit and headed back to Carol. We began talking and chatted about how and why I had moved back to Jersey, how frustrating it was looking for a job, etc., etc., etc. Then, break ended. Time passed and Carol appeared again, shooing me off to the mall for lunch. Take an hour. Get some shopping done. Shopping, pfft...I only had so much money and no more looked like it would be rolling in, so I called Jill and met her for lunch. Mom's treat, unbeknownst at the time to her! :) (I DID tell her, just not until after.) And headed back to my cubby center with the 100 extensions and 10 phone lines. And a Speaker to page people. Poor Rob...he must have peeked his head out to simultaneously compliment me and ask me to speak up when paging 3 or 4 times. Sorry, I digress...

It is sometime between lunch and my next break I decided Catholics have an express direct line. Somehow, in my conversation with Carol, my message was heard and answered. (Now? After 1 year of begging, pleading, crying, asking, barganing, etc? All it took was standing surrounded by brothers? -Umm...who were all from Ireland and I could have listened to them read me the phone book and listened for days! :) ) Dad called and said my uncle was weeks behind and they needed help. Since I was not working, the holidays were coming, and I had worked there doing just about everything on breaks from college, would I please come help? Sure. See ya at 10am tomorrow (Tuesday). About 15 minutes later, Manpower called. Destination Imagination (D.I.) had hit another busy time and was I available. They asked for me specifically. So, I told them about my uncle and arranged to head to D.I.Wed. - Fri. in the morning and start from 9-5 the following week. I called my uncle and told him what was going on and told him I'd be there Tuesday all day beginning at 10, as promised, but then from 12-5 or 6 the rest of this week and was that o.k.? Anything. He said.

So, I took my 3pm break just sitting talking to Carol and then she was off again...but not before making it her solomn effort to find me a job at St. John of God. (and calling about 3 or 4 times to tell me about different things) I began thinking about Physical Therapy and how for all the reasons I didn't want to take that step, this...what they did at St. John's was all the right reasons to do it. As I was getting ready to leave in an hour, the time was about 3:30, the sweetest thing happened. A little face appeared at my side. He left his dad and walked right under the little swing partition to get in and out of my glass enclosed desk. We began to talk. Well, I began to talk. What did he have there? A sticker? His dad, from behind the little partition informed me that he usually stopped in and said good-bye to the woman for whom I was covering. As the little face again stretched out his sticker, Dad told me the face was 3 today! Iwished him a Happy Birthday and he said, "happy!". They were on their way home to bake a cake. so the little face gave me a high five and then...the sweetest little fish face saddled right up next to me and kissed me goodbye! I couldn't help it, I cried. (teared actually) And just like that, under the partition he went, off to his cake and to find a home for his sticker. And for the rest of the day, that spot of my face burned. The littlest angel sent down to wish me happy...sealing it with a kiss. I still don't think I've come down from that cloud! :)

So, home I went knowing the next day (yesterday) I was facing steady income. So, Tuesday I headed to my Uncle Eddie's and was faced with disaster. The bank statements we were working on getting out to the customers were dated 11-20-02! This was worse than I thought! there was still end of the month stuff for 6 banks to be done and they were late! not only that, the early months statements would be coming in soon. Somebody needed to help. And, as you all know, somewhere in my little brain, I can save everybody. If there is trouble...I will swoop in and save the day. (I think that's why I get so attached when I finally find someone I will let save me and mine. It is rare.) So, upon leaving I signed up for one hour a night, if not two, every night from now until they get caught up, after I leave D.I. at 5pm! I know...I'm nuts. But it gets better! Read on! So, I got one whole set of one whole bank done before I conned Jill into coming to work and then we'd kidnap mom for a nice, long, italian dinner at my favorite italitan place, Tarentella's. Which we did, then I came home and collapsed into bed.

Today...well, as Austin Powers said, "I'm spent!". I got to D.I. at 9am, got all caught up with everyone, did company Christmas cards, and the mail. At about this time my new phone began ringing (I'd forgotten to turn it off) and it was my mom. The dental consulting place I had worked for wanted to know if I would help with their newsletters. Can I do it at home? Sure! Another call? I am needed? Sign me up! Send the newsletter stuff home with mom and I'll take care of it! Whew! Time to go!

So I sailed out the door at noon to head to Convergent (my uncle's place). I swung by Arby's and arrived at 12:30pm to a desk full of mismatches and lost stuff for me to fix. The worst job in the place (just b/c it's a pain in the butt) and I was loving it! (Um...does this surprise anyone?!?!?!) Out the door at 4:45pm and off to the grocery store to get stuff for dinner before heading home, then with dad to the gym, and home to check in with you all before heading to bed! Is it any wonder I'm hoping for a snowed in day tomorrow! :) (I saw the weather Durham is getting and I'm SO jealous. I'd LOVE to be snowed in. Although, being snowed in at home is not as fun as getting snowed in "at home" in Greensboro was the one year, but then I haven't found anything as right as that yet. -If I had, you all could stop hearing me go on and on about the "N" word.)

So, If I'm not around alot in the next few days, you all now know why! I'm done at D.I. following the Christmas party on the 23rd and at Convergent probably around the same time. I am looking into work at St. John's and might even go back to school. Heaven help me! Either for P.T. or P.A. (Kristina...wanna talk me out of it? I'm open to peer pressure! :) :) ) And, I'll be finishing my licensure soon, so I'll be an eligible A.T.C. again. I figure maybe it's a sign that I can't find a job doing anything but that or that I can diagnose injuries via t.v.at the moment of injury. And although it causes me ojeta, can it be ignored? And maybe if I can get my career back on track, the rest of life will fall into place. And maybe no matter how much I fight, I can't change my life into something it's not supposed to be, or to have people in it that aren't supposed to be...no matter how much I want it, or how much I miss them.

I hope you all are doing well! (Michael Kramer...you'd better get better! I said so!) I'll talk to you all soon...I hope! ;)

What God has joined together, let no one separate. (Matthew 19:6)

It was an odd feeling being back in a church after all this time. Granted I was in one not so long ago for Meg's wedding, but standing at the front of a church and sitting in a pew are two different perspectives. Usually, a very reverent feeling comes over me when I walk into a church. Maybe a mellowed out type of "Ahhhh" Choir of angels singing feeling we hear described so much. But the choir of angels must stay in the church, and thus I always walk out without them. No "new" or "reborn" feeling accompanies me as I finish my days. Melissa and Luke's wedding on Saturday was an odd exception.

I walked into the church and no choir of angels overwhelmed me with feeling. I sat in my pew, watching the violinist, thinking about all the things to be done immediately following the ceremony. Alter flowers to be transported, all the overnight luggage I had stored in my car and how I was going to find the owners of it AND get it into a room before the reception and the valets whisking my car away. I had spent the morning with the bride, bridesmaids and the bride's family, so there was no "gaspy" feeling as they appeared at the church door for the first time. To be honest, no overwhelmy feelings at all.

I knew the background of the church and how they were allowed to hold the wedding there only b/c Luke's pastor and someone named Steve Hayes (Amy, don't foget to be thankful to him! :) ) pulling strings. So, the two ministers at the front of the church didn't surprise me either. There was to be no group reciting of the Lord's Prayer or singing of Amazing Grace, which usually always swell the "churchy feeling" inside me. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. Maybe church was what I needed. Maybe the last year or so of pleading, crying, questioning, praying, unrest and unbalance with God could be soothed and eased...almost lightbulbed by a little visit to church. And while the idea of looking for that in a normal Sunday congregation doesn't appeal to me, and so far the one-on-one relationship wasn't working, maybe being in the church for other reasons would get me...us...back on track. But, no, just violin and organ and the low buzz of conversation as everyone waited for the service. I sat quietly, flashing back to Tapp's funeral. The drive from Greensboro to Chapel Hill with Neil - discussing why he "didn't want to date me". The knot in my stomach as I tried not to cry or yell. The service, where as I listened to them talk about our former donor and his demise to cancer so fast, where he reached over to hold my hand as I cried and to steady him as he tried not to. And how he didn't want to let go over my hand when we left and neither of us wanted the drive to end.

Luke's minister, Susan Andrews, performed most of the service and I was taken with her attitude. From my educated "intuition", I wasn't sure how "religious" Melissa was (in the church-going, Bible believing sense), but it seemed that Luke was. He'd been attending Church in Bethesda since he was ten (we would find out) and his family and Ms. Andrews were close. What I was most struck with was the way she addressed Luke, Melissa and the family and friends before her, as if she'd known us all her whole life. The service was nice. Luke picked a hymn that was his favorite and one I'd sang many times at youth group and on youth retreats. It was one of my friend Jill's favorites, Lord of the Dance. I remember the energy we used to put into the song. How we sounded almost like angels singing it, and how while one half of the congregation was (what seemed) very , very fast, the other half was very, very slow. Our minister used to always tell us all (somewhere around the third verse) to speed up. :) Or maybe they told us before we started, but it never seemed to matter, those that could breathe fast, sung fast and those that couldn't took their time and finished shortly behind the rest of us! :) (I always got sucked into whichever section I was in! :) )

She began the Pastor's Charge by telling us all what Luke and Melissa liked best about one another, and then describing the two things she charged them to have, to make a good, lasting relationship. The first was love. To always remember the things they had said they loved about one another, even when they didn't like one another. The second, she began was religion.

So, here it was. The sales pitch. There is one in every church. Because churches, although their nature is honorable, are, after all, businesses. "Blah, Blah, Blah percentages of all people who worship together remain married." And then, just as I was about to tune her out, things changed. She began talking about how religion, in the old sense of the word, meant believing in something. Melissa said later, the whole time she spoke she was looking at Melissa. "She's knows I'm not religious and wanted it to fit me, as well as Luke." And then she got to Matt 19:6. And although I'd heard it at almost every wedding I'd ever been to, it rang different in my ears this time. "Luke and Melissa were meant to be standing here today," she said. She had us think of all the ways their lives could have turned, but that God made them for each other.

"That which God places together, will never be separated."

And then it happened. No choir of angels, no Simpsons Opening Theme "Ahhh's", but the room got lighter. My heart got lighter. Just a shade. Could it be? That if in heaven, if in the books where it was written long beofre I was born on how my life would be, another was placed next to me that nothing - no other women, no long distances, no problems, no pain - NOTHING would keep us apart? That if God deems it so, it is? No matter what? And as Melissa said, when talking about the only time she cried during the wedding, "I was sitting next to Luke when he told Ms. Andrews all the things he loved about me, but no matter how many times I've heard him tell people those things, to hear it come from his minister, to hear it from someone else. I cried."

A song and a letter - from me. For release.

If Not You


I'll admit, I can be hard to please
Now and then I disagree just to
disagree
There are times I want what I want
'Cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have
when I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else

If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you

When I'm stuck and feel locked up,
you turn the key
You minimize all of my insecurities
You always seem to know what I need
when I need it
And when I say I need only you...
Believe it
Of all the many myseteries yet to come
I've solved the most important one

If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
Who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you

There are times I want what I want
'cause I want it
There are things I don't know I have when
I've got 'em
But when I look at you I ask myself
How could there be somebody else

If not you - who
Is ever gonna make me happy
If not love - what
Is it I feel for you
If I search the world
Over, under, still I wonder
who would I be lookin for
yeah, who
If not you

If not you, if not you - who
(Jo Dee Messina - Burn album)


Hi. Well, I finished painting my bathroom today. I love the color. I figured it would be cathartic, throwing myself into painting, but as you know I'm a little obsessive (if that's the right word) when I'm working on things that don't turn out just right. And even though it's my first time painting from beginning to end (Mom wants to know where she went wrong), I still wanted it to be perfect - no brush strokes, no white spots where I taped off the tile onto the wall or the spots of paint that kissed the ceiling when I inadvertantly lost awareness of the brush/roller. You know how I have these ideas in my head and get upset when they don't materialize the way I have them planned. I think there's a lapse in my mind to body connection! :)

I've wanted to call you alot lately. Let you know about the bathroom (it reminded me of how you wanted to re-do that old house on the corner of Friendly, just as I did), how I feel now that Jill's gone - even thought we didn't always get along and toward the end I was counting down the days til she left. About how frustrating the job hunt is and contemplate the alternatives. I picked up the phone to tell you about my trip to Amy's and Fager's and to talk about how weird it is to feel like you're in college again, but yet too old to be hanging out in bars. When the moment hits you, like it did for you that night at the Tiger, when you realize you've outgrown the things you used to do, but don't quite fit into the things you're supposed to have grown into. When you're not quite ready to let go of your dream for a trade-in "reality".

I wanted to rag you about the Raiders losing, but wasn't sure how you'd take it. (Looks like they need Jon back, huh? Ready to give into Michael and become a Bucs fan? ;) ) and rub into you that the Eagles were winning (just to hear you say "Good squad you got there. They lost to the Colts, Man!"). To see how recruiting went or if you're practicing inside today for hours on end because it's raining. Let you know how Yoga is going (yes, know Gaski and I can hang out!) and that I'm taking kickboxing. Ask you why every day I feel like my body is going from 27 to 80 and when I developed hips and an *ss. Matter of fact, there's a lot of moments in alot of hours in alot of days I think of something I want to share with you. And then it hits me...you're not there for me.

It's almost been a year since I've seen your face, although I see it every day in my mind. I hear your voice like you're next to me and quite often forget that I can't just pick up the phone and let you know when I'll be home. Being here doesn't feel like reality. More like a visit than a permanent living situation, but I've told you all about that before...one of those late night 3 or 4 hour phone calls. Even when I was working, which felt like so long ago, I always felt as if I'd come back to my apartment - different job in my old city. I keep thinking if only I could make it seem real, you know? Maybe I could adjust to it fully. Maybe it's just an unrealistic hope things might go back to the way they were. You always say I always land on my feet. It seems like life has been stopped for the last year, while all around me it's swirling at a pace so fast they can't keep up for everyone else. And no matter what I'm doing mine won't jump start. Just starts and stalls.

Anyway, I applied for a training job in Fayetteville (yes, I know. Close to the home of Central Cafe and inbreeding! :) ). Never thought I'd do that again, but it's more teaching than working and it's D3, so no traveling really. I'm also slowly but surely completing the forms for my licensure in N.J. I've also applied for a couple jobs around here in Development, either non-profit or universities. I stopped seeing Phyl. I don't know if I'll go back. At first I stopped because of the money, but then she offered to accomodate me. Now, I think it's more just because you can only talk negative and about the same things bothering you for so long before it gets old to everyone listening and I'm just not sure what could be said that's gonna help. Even I don't want to listen to me anymore! ;)

Physically, I'm doing o.k. I am a little worried b/c I haven't been back to see the doctor for the testing I was supposed to have for the thing we talked about a couple months before I moved. I went off the medication for a couple reasons, but the pains I was having before surgery came back recently, so I might have to go back soon. Living in a house with 3 cats isn't helping my allergies, which I think is making me tired all the time! You thought I slept alot before, you should see me now! I sleep about 12 hours a day and am pretty lethargic from the OTC drugs I take at night. Remember how I used to be in the mornings? And bathroom trips? Now, stretch that out over all day! :)

Speaking of cats, how's my little noisy sweetheart? Does he bother James and the new tennis guy like he used to bother us? It's weird to think of someone else living in my apartment. Kristina wrote the other day and mentioned it. Great place to wait out rain delays! :) Mike said he's talked to Shane, have you? How's my little Ryan doing? (I still call him my little freshamn pitcher even though he's a...5th year? true senior? by now.) I know you said Butter is working for the city now. Does he like it? You'll have to tell him I said Hi! I don't know how to find him, or I'd do it myself (although I'm not sure if he'd even want to talk to me). Meg said Matteo is teaching. I think it's great! He always wanted to work with kids (according to Bridget - who I'm sure is happy about your current situation). I'm glad to see (and hope the appearances mean) he's pulled his life together. I think about Donahue alot. I hope he's doing well. Lisa too.

Part of me hopes you are doing great and the other part of me hopes you are miserable. (And I guess as long as you're with Gaski and still in your job, part of you always will be! :) ) I wish I could tell you...(Austin Powers Voice)"anything at all"...but mostly that I'm o.k.,moving on with a good life, back "on my feet" and over you. Wish I could...
Anyway, kiss D.C. for me (and feed him some cheese). I Miss You.

Love,
Jenn

For Kare:

She's Got You

I've got your picture that you gave to me
And it's signed "with love," just like it used to be
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got your picture, she's got you

I've got the records that we used to share
And they still sound the same as when you were here
The only thing different, the only thing new,
I've got the records, she's got you

I've got your memory, or has it got me?
I really don't know, but I know it won't let me be

I've got your class ring; that proved you cared
And it still looks the same as when you gave it dear
The only thing different, the only thing new
I've got these little things, she's got you

Hi Everyone!

They say those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it. (To which I think I once said if I had a teacher like one of my former Football players Mitch, I'd repeat it over and over again! :)..but..) But how long must we repeat a history we do not understand? And maybe there is no past lesson there for us to learn from. Trailblazers are so named b/c they head off down a path never traveled before and along the way have to deal with the events they encounter with no reference for how to handle it.

In the last few days, I've regressed back into my fate vs. God / our control over destiny debate. A recent incident in my immediate family has me wondering, how long do we suffer for past bad decisions? And why don't the rewards from good decisions last as long?

This weekend I met a whole new group of people when I was visiting a friend. One of the people I met made a decision in his life which took him away from the woman he loved for 10-ish years. Upon returning, the happily reunited couple learned that the woman had inoperable cancer. I am sure the man wonders why, after his bad decision took him away from her for ten years, he has to face the prospect of losing her again. And although the cancer is not his fault, I wonder if he blames himself every day for the ten years he took away from "their" time; When if she goes he'll mourn for her and the time they could have had together.

My mother last week discovered she'd done something she thought would help us that ended up triggering the uncovering of a past mistake which will result in months and months of stress and hardship for our family. She hasn't slept since, has a constant nausea and I'm sure beats herself up every day wondering why one "mistake" keeps haunting her/dad/us.

We all know (very well, I'm sure) my constant resurgance of questions into what I did to get myself into such a dead end feeling life. And it just makes me wonder, when does it get better? When do we finally hae history to learn from? When do we look at what got us to where we are in life and say "Ah-Ha! that is where I took a wrong turn!" and we backtrack to get us back to the point we were supposed to have been at long ago. This weekend before going out, we were watching Animal Planet. It seemed when the dogs got to a place (in this awful event called Dirt Dog...like a prairie dog tunnel) they didn't want to be or didn't like the obstacle in front of them, they veered down a different path. Eventually they'd hit a dead end and immediately scamper back to where the obstacle was, overcome it and move forward. How did they know where they went wrong?

In a popular train of thought for life, which I call the intersection theory, we have many paths down which we could travel, all leading us to the major points in life we're supposed to hit, but each of them getting us there a different way. Some may take us a little longer to reach, but eventually we hit a major crossroad where we we would end up whether we got there in three yers or thirty-three. So, what happens when you want to take the fastest route to your next crossroad, but end up headed down a dirt path leading to seemingly nothing? How do you know where the spot was you made a wrong turn?

Or, when you think you are going the wrong way and end up exactly where you are supposed to be? Usually, there are landmarks. The little reassurances that let us know we are headed the right way. And when we are going the wrong way, we usually know. We see a sing (or many) that let us know we are headed the wrong way, or sometimes...it's just that feeling in your gut you need to ask for directions. Lately it just seems there are no experts. Just lots of people who think they know where to send you, but you end up lost again. Then, you are even more lost, and not only can't you figure out where you went wrong, you can't figure out where to go to get headed the right way again!

And what if there is no turning around? For the man earlier, he will never get those years with his wife back. And who knows exactly how many he's got left with her. And even enjoying the time he spends with her, enjoying every minute they DO have, he will always know he could've made a decision which allowed him more time. How long will he have to live with that? For my mother, it will be months and months of heartache, stress, and struggle for all of us. And even though the mistake shouldn't be a major one, it should be resolved, if it's not, it could change our lives forever and not for the better. And if we should lose everything, how long will she have to live with the notion that one little decision changed our lives forever?

Maybe my prediciment is the best of all. I still have no idea where I went wrong. No idea what happened whihc derailed my life so horribly and led it into the middle of nothing. There is not one point I can look at and say, I shouldn't have done that! And maybe that's better than knowing for sure where you went wrong. Then again, there are many points I could look at and say, maybe that was where I got off track. But there is no going back to it and starting again - for there is no way to get back there; There is no turning around and there is no one to ask. Just forging ahead and knowing it could take me years to get back to the point I should've been by now. And the thinking about all the life I will miss by taking a wrong turn.

In light of the recent holiday....

What ever happened to Halloween?!?!?!

Every year, when I was little, I wanted to be something "pretty" and "feminine". Usually a princess, angel, ballerina...I remember being a witch one year, a genie in high school, a devil (But I wore a one-piece spandex suit and a red v-neck gold sweater...so I was hardly scary! :) )...and I have pictures of a year-old Jennifer as Raggedy Anne. Apparently, no one could convince me a "pretty" or "feminine" costume doesn't bode well in 10 degree weather wandering around outside begging for candy!

The other thing I remember well are kids. No matter what, our doorbell was always ringing. Every five minutes it seemed like. I remember running into friends, neighbors, or kids from school as I wandered from house-to-house...almost running...to see how much candy I could collect - how many houses we could get to - before the parent escort told us it was enough. We'd race home, dump out our pillow cases full of candy (I know we have little plastic pumpkins, but I don't remember using them - they didn't hold enough candy! ) and start the excahnge. "Ooo...I want your Reese's!" "O.K., I'll trade ya for your Mary Janes!" (I loved those.) would ring through the house. Then there was the pile of "other" stuff - candy no one really liked so we gave it to our parents, the money for Unicef, and homemade stuff like popcorn balls and little halloween bags of cookies, or worse...apples!

Now, I'm not, nor have I ever been a real big fan of sweets. As a matter of fact, I think my sister and Dad enjoyed my Halloween trick or treating more than I did - they always reaped the benefits. For me it was all about "winning"! (Does this surprise ANY of you?!?!?!) I wanted to get the most candy and the best kind of candy and I engaged in the trading for what I liked, but rarely did I eat alot of my stolen loot. The thrill was in the getting. (In adulthood, this has materialized in shopping.)

And the costumes. I loved picking out a costume, getting dressed up, getting to "play" the part for one night. I could be whatever I wanted to be - however pretty or heavenly, or evil, able to grant wishes, or um...raggedy? that I wanted to be. I took alot of time and effort to pick out my costume. It was a reflect of me...and not anyone else. You can learn alot about me by looking at my costumes over the years. I still do love picking out costumes. Last year? I went as a weird combination in a black t-shirt that read "I Like Dorks", red fake pleather...really cotton ish...pants, with glasses with tape in the middle and pigtails. This year? We did nothing.

That's what Halloween has become. Nothing. I would like to think it's the growing up. Maybe a metaphor of turning the "dreams" of a costume into the "reality" of a current life. (Think of this...what would Donovan McNabb dress up as now, if every year as a kid he went as a football player and now he is one?) That adulthood and reality IS ordering pizza and sitting around looking through Bridal magazines and planning a wedding, instead of putting on a costume and heading out...or inviting people over and staying in, costumed and escaping.

But it's not just me, and it's not just age. Our doorbell rang a total of 10 times. We bought tons of candy and gave out little. Instead of infrequent lulls in "action", the streets were dotted with infrequent trick-or-treaters. That instead of opening the door and hearing "Hi Jenn!" ringing out once, to see the neighborhood you know come to your door chatting and hurrying to reach every house before it's too late. (BTW, Trish's step-brothers were a Cat in the Hat and a Horse Head. Cutest 13 year-old costumes in their group...well, maybe save Enrique Inglasias! :) )

Are we really that afraid of our society that we no longer feel safe taking our children door-to-door for free candy? Do we really mistrust our neighbors SO much that childhood memories (and possible frostbite scars) are inconsequential? I remember the first time the news informed us of people putting razors in apples. Or that people were using syringes to inject poison into candy. "Parents" warned the news (Dallas news, at that time in life), "Be wary of homemade treats unless they are from people you know and inspect ALL of your children's candy for tiny puncture holes in the wrappers BEFORE your children eat any." So, off we went, unable to sneak the occasional pieces from our cases as we walked from house to house. Most all of the houses handed out wrapped candy, much to our delight - no more apples OR popcorn balls! :) But, I'm afraid this was the beginning of the end for halloween.

This year, I bought no costume. Armed with my black leggins and turtleneck, I threw on a previously bought (on sale the year before, but not worn) Tiara, and armed with my septor, donned a sash that read "Miss Understood", hopped in my car, and drove to Mannyunk for a night of Bridal magazines and talk of weddings and a little Thrusday night t.v. I arrived home before my crown turned into a pumpkin feeling as if it was just another day. Just about to fear all is lost for halloween, Dad begun telling me the story of the lone pumpkin I'd missed. He arrived at our door decked out as a pumpkin and about knee high to a grasshopper. Dad in tow, the little pumpkin stood at the door. "Say Trick or Treat" urged the elder. As Dad tells it, he uttered something in young person speech resembling trick-or-treat (whether it was unintelligable or Dad's REALLY deaf we don't know). Dad replied, "Happy Halloween to you!! Don't you look spiffy in your costume?!?" (Cause Dad's say spiffy) "Now," replied the father of the little pumpkin "hold out your bag." On that note, the little pumpkin then manuvered the threshold and walked right in. Seems there's hope after all.

Hi All!

Well, the job search is SO frustrating! :) Figured I'd take my mind off it and write a bit. A story about a soldier and a nurse during WWII.

Alexander Davidson was born and raised in Glaouster City, NJ. He and his 11 brothers all played baseball in town and every one of them was VERY good. Al was a pitcher and so good he was drafted to play semi-professional baseball in Louisiana. However, Uncle Sam got him first and Al was sent to Pine Camp for soldier training. The Army, knowing how good he was at baseball immediately signed Al up to pitch for them while he was training. According to Al, the other soldiers weren't very fond of the ballplayers, b/c they got special treatment, but Al was different...he had a car. Al lent his car out to other soldiers while he was practicing or soldiering and the other soldiers were forever trying to set him up on double dates, so they could see their girls.

Sgt. Al Davidson was in the 8th Armored Division as a truck driver. He was friends with "a greek guy from National Park, NJ". This guy was dating a nurse in the WAAC up the road and in one of their only two stints in K.P. said he wanted to fix Al up with a friend of his girlfriend. Al said no, he wasn't interested. Just wanted to do his time and play baseball. Al finished his time in the kitchen and headed to get his mail.

Billie Burchell was born in Manchester, KY. Billie's father had alot of land in town and had held many prominent positions in Manchester. Around the time of WWII, Billie left home and joined the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps (later change to Women's Army Corps) and was sent to Camp Campbell, KY. Billie was training to be a nurse while with the WAAC. As part of their "duties", the women attened dances sponsored by the USO. It was at one such dance Billie met Pvt. Al Davidson. Billie and Al had a wonderful time at the USO dance, but Al informed Billie he was supposed to be sent overseas shortly afterward. (Not alot is really known about the length of "relationship between Pvt. Davidson and Billie.) Billie wrote Pvt. Davidson a letter and sent it on to Pine Camp.

Al got to his mailbox and found a letter, addressed to him from Billie Burchell at Camp Campbell in KY. he returned to his "greek friend" and said, "The women your girlfriend wanted to set me up with, her name wasn't Billie Burchell by any chance, was it?" "Yeah, how did you know? I never mentioned it." Al explained he had gotten a letter from her. He opened it up and read it. He knew right away the letter wasn't meant for him, but Al became excited by the fact Billie named people in the letter he had known in training and never knew what happened to them. He told his friend to go ahead and arrange the date, Al wanted, if nothing else, to find out what had happened to his friends.

Billie hadn't heard from Al Davidson and became disheartened. As it was a small unit, everyone knew who you were going with, and they all knew Al hadn't returned Billie's attempt at communication. A friend of Billie's approached her and told her her boyfriend was coming up to go out and he was bringing Al Davidson! Billie was so excited, she couldn't wait for the day!

The big day arrived and Billie was aflutter. She almost ran down to the waiting area to see Al. when she got to the room, her heart sank. The man sitting on the couch was NOT PVT. Al Davidson! The man sitting on the couch was SGT. Al Davidson and he was holding her letter! Billie almost backed out of the date, she was so heartbroken, but being a woman of her word, she trudged along.

It turns out, PVT. Davidson must have been shipped out just before SGT. Davidson arrived AND none of the men in Billie's letter were the ones SGT. Al Davidson knew. In hearing this story, it's amazing these two people...the city mouse and country mouse, or rebel and yankee as they're affectionately known...ever got together. How many things had to fall into and out of place to align these stars? Hearing this story renews, just a little, the old saying "everything happens for a reason". It inspires us to believe that things work out the way they are supposed to and there might, just might be that little thing called Fate and Destiny we all try and believe in.

No one knows what happened to Pvt. Davidson, or if the "greek guy from National Park" and his nurse ever worked out, But 55 years later, Al and Billie are still going and loving, although a little slower and a little different due to age. And everytime our family gets together, we ask my grandmom and grandpop to tell the story of how they met. And every time, we smile a little brighter, love a little stronger, and believe.

More "Soup"....Just warning, this one made me cry. It reminded me of my Uncle Wayne and what he was like as a child, and hope.

BATTER UP, DAD

My father was an avid baseball fan. I grew up in New York City and was able to see the greats play at the Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field and Yankee Stadium. Many a Saturday was spent with my dad cheering on our favorite team. As much as I loved the game of baseball, alas, I was born female at a time when girls watched more than they played. Whenever he could, Dad took me out to the park where the neighborhood Little League played and pitched balls for me to hit. We played together for hours, and baseball became a big part of my life.

One day at the park, a woman pushing a young boy in a wheelchair stopped to watch us play. My dad was over to them in a flash to ask if the child could join our game. The woman explained that the boy was her son and that he had poilio and wouldn't be able to get out of the chair. That's didn't stop my dad! He placed the bat in the younster's hand, pushed him out to home plater and assisted him in holding the bat. Then he yelled out to me on the mound, "Anne, pitch one in to us."

I was nervous that I might hit the child, but could see the delight in the boy's eyes, so I aimed at the bat and let the ball fly. The ball made contact with the bat with an assist from my Dad and the child screamed with joy. The ball flew over my head and headed for right field. I ran to catch up with it and, as I turned, I heard my Dad singing "Take Me Out To The Ball Game" while he pushed the wheelchair around the bases. The mother clapped and the boy begged to be allowed to continue the game.

An hour later we left the field, very tired but very happy. The boy's mother had tears in her eyes when she thanked my father for making it such a special day for her son. Dad smiled that wonderful grin that I loved so much and told the mother to bring the boy back next Saturday and we would play another game.

Dad and I were at the field the next Saturday but the mother and son never came. I felt sad and wondered what happened to change their mind about joining us. Dad and I played many more games of baseball, but never saw the two again.

Twenty years passed and my beloved father died at the tender age of fifty-nine. With my Dad gone, things changed so much that the family decided to move to Long Island. I had very mixed emotions about leaving the neighbohood where I had grown up.

I decided to take one last walk around the park where Dad and I spent so many happy moments. I stopped at the baseball field where we played our Saturday games. Two Little League teams were on the field just about to start a game. I sat down to watch for awhile, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes as I watched the children play the game that I loved. I missed my Dad so much.

"Jeff, protect your base," one coach yelled. I cheered the runner on when the ball was hit far into the outfield. One coach turned and smiled and said, "The kids sure love a rooting section, Miss." He continued, "I never thought I'd be a coach playing on this field. You see, I had polio as a child and was confined to a wheelchair. One day my mother pushed me to the park and a man was playing baseball with his daughter. He stopped when he saw us watching and asked my mother if I could join them in their game. He helped me to hold the bat and his daughter pitched to me. I was able to hit the ball with the man's assistance and he ran me around the bases in my wheelchair singing the song 'Take Me Out To The Ball Game.' I went home happier that night than I had been in years. I believe that experience gave me the desire to walk again. We moved to New Jersey the next day - that's why my mother had taken me to the park, so I could say good-bye to my friends. I never forgot that man and his daughter or that day. I dreamed about running around the bases on my own two feet and the dream, with a lot of hard work, came true. I moved back here last year, and I've been coaching Little League since then. I guess I hope that someday I'll look up in the stands and see that man and his daughter again. Who knows, I might find him on one of the fields pitching to one of his grandkids - alot of years have come and gone. I sure would like to thank him."

As tears ran down my face, I knew that my Dad had been thanked and even more I knew every time I heard "Batter Up!" my dad would be right beside me, no matter where life took me and the family. That simple act of kindness that spring day had changed a life forever, and now, twenty years later, the memory of that day had changed my life forever. "Batter up, Dad" I said as I left the field, "I know you're still playing the game we love."
-Anne Carter

"This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that was good and could be again." -James Earl Jones as Terrance Mann in Field of Dreams

In Honor of the MLB Most Memorable Moments (which I think is a crock and horrible marketing ploy, but whatever), The following is my edited list (I only included the ones I agreed with, or thought you all might, with astriks next to my favs!) of a story taken from Chicken Soup for the Baseball Fan's Soul:

So Many Thing To Love About America's Game

I Love baseball stadiums, especially old ones in old parts of town.
I Love baseball cards, for the right reasons, not the money.
I Love the fact that sixty feet, six inches, three strikes, nine innings and ninety feet are still perfect after all these years.
**I Love the echo of baseballs being hit during batting practice in any empty stadium
I Love watching windbreaker-clad pitchers run wind sprints on the outfield warning track during exhibition games.
I Love a beautifully dragged infield, and a pitcher's mound carved just so with the resin bag in back.
I Love the ivy at Wrigley, the Green Monster at Fenway, the subway that practically drops you off at home plate at Montreal's Olympic Stadium.
I Love the Baseball Hall of Fame.
I Love the Minor Leagues.
**I Love finding a game on the radio when driving a lonely stretch of highway late at night.
I Love the fact that Yogi Berra didn't say half the funny things he's credited with saying, but the stories are just too good to let go.
I Love the fact that a grizzled sportswriter can still cherish the memory of Willie Davis, thirty-eight years after he last saw him play in person.
I Love batboys, ball girls and P.A. announcers with pizzazz and a clue.
I Love shagging fly balls. Still.
**I Love seeing kids' faces light up when a ballplayer says anything to them. Anything at all.
I Love watching men so incredibly gifted that they can swing a stick at a tiny, speeding, rock hard sphere and make it fly great distances.
**I Love watchingsecond basemen fly over sliding baserunners to complete the double play.
I Love bullpen cars and fould poles that are in fair territory and dugouts truly dug out of the earth.
I Love a deserted clubhouse decorated with freshly laundered uniforms hanging in cubicles filled with the working tools of ballplayers.
I Love Edgar Martinez's swing.
**I Love Randy Johnson's fastball.
I Love Junior Griffey's smile.
**I Love a center fielder flagging down a fly in the gap, a shortstop coming up throwing from the hole, a blurry-fast relay from the outfield that nips a runner at the plate.
I Love meal money, tips for the clubhouse attendants and visiting players who take the time to say something to put the bat boy at ease.
** (of course) I Love Bull Durham, Major League, and A League of Their Own because they captured on film the incredible joy and agonizing pain of trying to play a game for a living. (sidenote: try For Love of the Game for a good spouses opinion)
I Love that harry Caray was loved by fans because he loved them, the Cobs and baseball. Not necessarily in that order.
I Love bratwurst with Special Sauce at County Stadium in Milwalkee.
I Love crab cakes at Camden Yard in Baltimore - I'm sure of it, though I've never eaten crab cakes and never been to Baltimore. (It's a QUOTE. I have and have, but it's the idea of loving something truly "hometown" in a hometown stadium because you're supposed to! )
I Love keeping a scorecard.
**I Love the Seventh-Inning Stretch.
**I Love drinking a cold beer in a distant seat in a minor league stadium I've never seen before.

"These moments are the soul of baseball: The ball perfectly hit, perfectly caught, or perfectly thrown...we can unwrap the moments later, when it's quiet, and enjoy them all over again." -Alison Gordon.

Hi Guys!

It's funny, I always think of tons of things to write about and then somehow between that time and logging on to my computer, things happen that change my thought patterns. Sometimes leaving me blank. Tonight however, I'm going to take a moment to reflect on the death of an apparently sweet 11 year old child.

According to all reports, the day started out pretty normal for Greg Katsnelson. Got up, did whatever his normal morning rituals were, caught the bus and went to Marlton Middle School - Purple House for a typical Marlton Middle School 7th grade day. Greg caught the bus home and went to his house. According to reports, Greg loved school. He absorbed whatever they would give him and was always looking for more. Greg got off the bus in the King's Grant development of Marlton, went home and did whatever it was he did when he first got home. About 3:00 or so, Greg's friends came to get him to play. He declined, saying he wanted to finish his homework first and he'd catch up with them later.

Unbeknownst to Greg, at the same time he was declining his friends' invitations, Richard Pituch, 26, was in a neighboring town tying up his 5 year old niece and killing his 62 year old mother for not buying him cigarettes. Richard proceeded to flee his and his mother's house stopping briefly to assault a neighborhood woman and fleeing town on his dirt bike. Greg finished his homework about 4pm, called his mom at work to tell her he was going to play with friends and left his house. At 5:30pm a couple walking along a path in the woods found Greg Katsnelson's body floating in a shallow part of the lake with part of a kitchen knife protruding from him. Richard Pituch turned himself in to Medford police 15 minutes later.

The community of Marlton is still in shock. And Greg's development, my development is stunned. How could this happen in our town? Our town, which hasn't reported a murder since I graduated from high school. Our town, whose biggest fault is people with bad hair pretending they have money and displaying their lack of poilte and unselfish nature. our town, who is turning out in drove to show support for the Katznelson family. (We may not have all known Greg, or his family, but we try and understand how WE would feel in their situation and mourn for their loss as if it were our own.)

The last few weeks have been tentative for those in the East, but especially for my friends in the Maryland/D.C. area. People, going about their everyday lives, suddenly at risk for being killed in the blink of an eye. Home Depot one minute, gone forever the next. Easterners suddenly confined to their homes, afraid of running errands, or traveling near or on highways. Easterners held afraid at the whim of one other person. One person whose whims and fancies could erase our existance forever.

A year and a month ago, two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. A third plane crashed into the Pentagon. At least 50,000, it was initially thought, could perish in an "attack" of such magnitude. Two towers, often thought to symbolize New York City (especially to those who crossed from the Jersey side over), were suddenly reduced to rubble. The headquarters of our military and national defense suddenly bare and exposed to the world through the giant whole left by the entry of one plane. How could this happen in our nation? In a nation where thanks to the kindness of strangers the Fireman and EMT's were fed and cared for, the citizens fleeing the scene were taken in, cleaned up, housed, and encouraged to reach out to family and friends to account for their well-being. Where our citizens on planes which had been rerouted, or grounded, were taken in and fed and clothed by strangers. Where a group of people, worried about their own lives and the lives of other innocent citizens band together to overtake terrorists and, while saving many, lost their own lives in a field in Pennsylvania.

These things may seem widescale and untouching any of our lives. So, while these things affect all of us, how are we affected?

The night of Greg Katznelson's murder, I sat down and was reading an article. In the wake of alot of tragedy, I was feeling pretty down and missing Neil. He always made me feel better, made me feel safe. Even in the wake of my "forceful cuddling" experience, I felt like nothing bad would happen to me because Neil was there. Now, I'm sure part of it was the "I was faced with terror and survived" theory of many people I spoke with following my "forced love", but the other part was the feeling of safety we,as women, (Can't speak for the men, b/c I'm not one, but I haven't ever heard this as a relationship point from men) feel when we're with that special person, and one we look for in relationships. So, I was reading one of many various articles and began reading one about Buddism. Well, not about Buddism exactly, but about a principle of it. (Now for those of you who are wondering how senseless murder can lead me to Neil I have two thoughts...#1 Everything always leads me to Neil and #2 I may be taking the long way, but I'll get to a point eventually! :) )

The author's wife left him for another man. He was devestated. Never even saw it coming. Someone called him and told him to mourn, grieve, be angry, whatever. I'm a little shakey about how he got to this part, but it's called his 2 question choice. The first question is "What am I feeling?" And the second is "Can I be with it?" Well, I could completely relate to him until we got to the questions. How stupid is that?!?! I mean seriously, can you just ask yourself a question and overturn feelings? Mourning and Sorrow are not that easy! If one or two questions could change the way we feel, doesn't that mean our feelings aren't that deep?

Well, as any good sitcom/cheesy drama predictor knows...when the girl is running in heels through a dark forest being chased by the bad guy, she will always lose her shoe. The next day, I found myself sitting at the computer, staring at Neil on IM and knowing he was at his desk and not writing to me and that stupid question popped up..."What am I feeling?" So, I sat talking to myself (in my head, not out loud, of course) and said..."I feel rejected and unloved and stupid for believing in him and empty and hurt and angry astonished at how he could not miss me." Then, as the bad guy always catches up to the girl with no shoe...question number two emerged..."Can You Be With It?" "No," I said to myself, "I'm sick of being with it. He doesn't have to be with it, so why should I?!?!?" And ironically, just like that it was gone. Not the feelings themselves, exactly, but the weight they had taken on.

In reflection, I'm not sure it was those stupid questions themselves. (Hey, I'm not EVER gonna admit stupid questions helped me with anything.) I think it was more the times. I began thinking to myself, I love him and miss him, but if a terrorist hijacks a plane and I'm on it, or in the building he crashes it into, what would anyone have to say about me? "She used to be a fun happy girl, but ever since Neil got married..."

Or, what if I go out to buy the great pumpkin color I want for my bathroom and after two steps am shot and killed by a sniper just out on a whim? Will I really die knowing I have lived up to MY potential? If God's plan for us, doesn't necessarily involve our reaching our dreams, but our lives having an impact on other, who's life have I touch moping and wasting away over a guy who could care less about me and has moved on and married?

If I run across some guy in the woods who isn't taking his medicine and has just killed his mother, the only thing anyone could say about me lately is that I was quiet and kept to myself.

I've been thinking alot about Erin lately. Apparently I am not the only one. All "our" friends have been asking if anyone has heard from her and when I called her last night, her voice mail box was full. I sent her an e-card tonight hoping to find the return receipt in my mailbox soon. Erin is a wonderful person! She is the type of person you meet and immediately find all thr qualities you wish you possessed...her love of life, spontinatey (?), energy, zest...it's so hard to explain, yet so easy to get wrapped up in her whirlwind and jump on board. Erin may never have a "career", "find her way", marry, have kids, or live the "American Dream" (although knowing her, she will outlive us all!), and I don't know if she will be upset if she doesn't get there, or hopes she gets to live out the typical female "fantasy", but I know my life will never be the same, no matter what the outcome, for what she is going through now.

One of the things so frustrating right now in my life is knowing what I want (essentially, not descriptively) and not being able to get there. Like the child on the street tugging their parent toward the toy store THEY want to go in, because they want to go NOW! Nevermind, parking the car, getting yor purse, paying the meter...they want to go NOW!

When I think about all the people who died on September 11, 2001, or all 10 or so people the "Tarot Card Sniper" has claimed, or Greg Katsnelson, who so diligently sat and did his homework before heading out to play, or Greg's mother, who told him to be careful and she'd see him when she got home, or Erin, I feel so guilty for being in such a hurry. At least I have another day, to see if maybe I WILL fall in love again, have kids, enjoy a career (or have one)...so, should I really be in such a big hurry to have it NOW? Then again, imagine all the things Greg might have done if he'd known that his life was going to end just hours after he stepped off that bus.

The world is gonna miss what you might have been, Greg. Let us not leave others to think that about us.

Hi! Anyone out there? "Are you hiding? I'm coming?" (a quote from mom's favorite movie! :) )

I've been meaning to write for some time, so there's alot I've wanted to say. Guess I'll just have to write more often.

Anyway, spent the last 2 hours on here searching for an old "friend". Many songs some to mind in relation to this..."Rainy Days and Mondays"; "Reminiscing"; "Ships"...but the one that triggered this hunt was "Wonderwall" by "the greatest band that ever lived" (SNL skit) "Oasis".

It's funny that one reminds me so much of him, but I guess the timing of the release and some of the lyrics are fitting for him. he was a lacrosse player at Salisbury. We had a class together my Freshman year. He and a couple other people in my class used to study together. I remember thinking how smart he was for a lacrosse player. (Remember, my only exposure to lacrosse players so far when I met him were Scott Kelly and Rex, the guy who destroyed a chair with the handle of a lacrosse stick one night b/c he'd been drinking and fighting with his girlfriend.) I saw him occasionally in and out of the training room in the next 3 years, but never to say anymore than Hi and some small talk during treatments, etc. I was actually more friendly with his girlfriend, Tracy, becase she lived with Shawna on eyear...but I'm getting off track.

The next time I saw him outside of our Gym was the Wild Turkey/SSU clinic-reunion night in January of my Senior year. We all ended up at the Flying club (a moment of silence) later and he and I began talking. I don't know how long we talked or what was said...(see the Wild turkey comment above)...but I DO remember the brief conversation with one of his teammates before I ended up leaving for the night. Very foreshadowing.

Once Spring semester started, I saw him occasionally in the T.R. and usually out at the Flying club or Pickles (another silent moment). What happened next occured at the Flying Club and involved a dare...I'll tune the next details down for the saintly in the viewing audience...and resulted in he and I spending more time together. I would usually go to his games when I could on Saturday and see him Saturday night. It was a strange, wonderful relationship. We both just enjoyed it for it...without pushing for more, or labeling, etc. We talked about our futures (individually, not together), and careers, friends, etc. He didn't like Mav all that much (this is when Mav was still a little cat! :) ) and Maverick didn't like him b/c he stole my attention. :)

He even met my mom once. Quite by accident. The week after the dare thing, I was headed to Greensboro for an interview for a G.A. Position. My mom was coming down, taking me to GSo, then we were driving back so I could be a model for comps, then heading to the LAX game. Mom was coming to the TR to get me after the model thing and I came out of the locker room and saw her and told her I'd show her the TR. As I opened the door, I ran smack into him! I was a little stunned, but regained my composure, said Hi and then he introduced himself to my mom. asked if she was coming to the game, we wished him luck, he winked at me and we all went on our way.

He was so sure Greensboro was gonna be wonderful for me. And just knew I could do anything I ever wanted. He was headed to the CSCS exam to be a strength and conditioning coach and headed back to New York. I always thought he wanted to coach LAX, but he never mentioned it outright. The last time I saw him was at Seacrets after graduation. It was an ending fit for a movie. I'd heard through the grapevine he was coaching at a college in NY and was SO happy. There is not one thing about him or that relationship I ever think about except that it was one of the best ones in my life. Every time I hear that song on the radio, I think of him, smile and my whole insides get warm and cuddly type happy.

It's funny how there are some people in our lives that come so briefly and bring us so much joy. Who once they're gone we can think of with nothing but happiness and love for what they meant to us. And others who leave and we always wonder what if? Whether they're around every minute of every day, for a month or years it never seems like enough.

With Mr. LAX, he seemed to reach in and touch my soul and just know what I thought, how I felt, etc. And when he left, I knew our relationship was like no other and appreciated the little bit of time we'd "found" each other. It wasn't exaclty deep, no real "love" was shared, and without words we both understood the boundries, limits, and terms of what we had. What is it about certain people that they can reach in, without either one even knowing it's being done and touch your soul and just "get it"? Is it this weird cosmic connection that defines a soulmate?

Cosmic connections are strange - the feeling that you've known someone a lifetime, when you've only just met; the intimacy you share with another without ever experiencing "intimacy"; the closeness or "at home" feeling you experience with another person for no expainable reason. But, does this connection have to be a romantic one?

The feeling I had with Mr. LAX, was very different in somw ways than the one I had with Neil. I never had any misgivings about Mr.LAX being my soulmate. In fact, I doubted very much if it came right down to it to label or define us, I could have, or would have wanted to, but the sense of just looking at each other and knowing about the other one was extremely satisfying. The comfort level I had with him was different, but yet in many way the same as with Neil. With Neil, there was always a sense of urgency, a rush to be together; a sense of missing something until we were together again. Then, a calm. Even watching t.v alone seemed empty without him there, as if I'd forgotten something. Can you experience this feeling with two different people at different times? Can a person have multiple soulmates?

In the movie "The Contender", Joan Allen says (something like), "Principles only mean something if you stick by them when it's difficult". If we believe someone is our soulmate, then something happens to them or the relationship, can there be another person we connect with on a soul level, or would the next person along be settling for less than what we had, because what we had is over? If we believe a soulmate to be the one true person who completes our other half, then nothing will ever be what it was with our "soulmate". But, what if we're wrong? What if we only THINK someone is our soulmate, but then after it ends realize HE couldn't have been our soulmate because we have just FOUND our soulmate! It reminds me a little of Neil's friend Brian. Every time Brian began seriously dating someone, he'd call Neil and say, "I think this is 'The One', Ave". In the five years I was there, Brian had 6 or 7 "The One"s. When do you trust what you feel about someone being "the one" or your soulmate, or one true love, or however you phrase it and not always think, well, maybe out there someone where is one more right than this one. Maybe I only think this is "The One" because I don't know better yet. Or, does the notion of soulmates exist at all?

Hi Guys! PLEASE keep yourselves safe from the Sniper! I worry about you two (you know who you are) everytime I hear about another "spree"

I went back to see Phyl today. I must say I'm a complete enigma to myself. :) Today was a Neil focused day, but I reflected alot on Ryan. I tried parallelling the two relationships. I realized how wonderful it made me feel to talk about both of them. I know that sounds strange, but even though the conversations were more focused on what went wrong, the emotions were focused alot on what went right.

After leaving my appointment, I felt almost as giddy as if I were in love. For a person who cries whenever she talks about this love of her life who broke her heart, it was all I could do today to keep from dancing around the room while talking about him. Phyl asked me why I couldn't be angry with Neil...why through all this I haven't gotten angry with him for the way he treated me and the things that happened. I think it's because I knew him. Think about a two year old who steals the cookies jar to get the cookies. You can't get REALLY angry at him/her because you know how a two year old thinks; that they don't think about the consequences, don't think about defying you, they just want cookies, because they taste good. In the same respects I think it's hard to get mad at someone you love for their actions when you know the thought processes behind them. For those of you who remember Ryan, you'll remember I had his thought process for "why" things happened down before he told me I was right. We were separated for one month and I "knew" everything that he'd done, thought, and had happened. The similarities in the ending of the relationship are So similar. The "why" and "how" this keeps happening to me is a mystery. I know break-ups happen, and even some of them similarly, but I guess I just think the circumstances are so unusual how could they happen to any person more than once AND how do you stop it from happening, when if you could control it, you wouldn't let it happen to begin with!

Phyl and I began talking about what I loved about Neil. I could feel my face begin to shine (like the top of the chrysler building! Sorry childhood reversion! :) ) and that warm very full feeling started taking over and words just began gushing out. One of the first things I was attract to was his inhibition and cockiness. (It was a front, but by the time I found out, it didn't matter.) The way he'd dance without caring who thought what about it...because he liked music and dancing. The look on his face....:) He looked so silly doing his little toy soldier dance, but you could tell he was having so much fun. And the way he would get so full of himself...:)

The absolute thing I loved the most was that look on his face...full of love and warmth and innocence and joy. Kind of a crude example, but like the boys in school who figure out that your armpit can sound like farting. Or the look on the face of a two year old realizing the joy of "using the potty" and how excited it makes his parents. (and no, I don't have a thing for little boys! :) )
It was all the "inner Neil" spilling out. The one who brought me breakfast to the office when I was hungover, or made me breakfast in bed when I was sick, or bought me a cheese grater from the dollar store because I needed one, but really, for no reason at all, or who got me the pearl drop earrings I'd looked all over for because he thought I'd like them and not because he knew I'd even been looking for them, or who kissed me in the kitchen making tacos because the site of me cutting lettuce and tomatoes urged him to, or the "early" days when it was all he could do to sit through lunch with me and not write off the whole day of both of us working to stay home and be together. And I have a feeling it's the same Neil who made chocolate chip cookies with his brother when he was 5, who felt the need to take care of his mom and didn't want to go to college and leave her all alone, who was homesick his whole first semester at Wake, who sang lead in a Run DMC "kareoke" in a mostly black high school, who calls his cat doodlebug and gets upset when the one he's had since 16 dies, who doesn't like funerals, sings Sound of Music (specifically Lonely Goatherd) songs with me, knows the South Park theme song and knows where to be quiet so I can sing my favorite part, who reads me Cat in the Hat b/c I was reading in bed and he should be reading too, who eats his pickle last to "clense his palate" and who gets upset ever June 11th because another year has passed and he's still no closer to the life he "wants" for himself and who fears he may be too old soon to ever get there.

The shell that's around this Neil, "my" Neil is thick and more often than not the one you all hear me talk about. The one who hurts me, himself and others, who drinks and carouses and keeps "my" Neil where he is in life. The one I feel is slowly killing "my" Neil. It's hard to explain, but "my" Neil touched a place so deep and special in me that even thinking about "him" lights me up like a suburban neighborhood at Christmastime.

This may sound odd, but it's the look on his face that helps me to get through the days I'm not sure I can get through. The days everything seems to be collapsing all over me, that face, that look jumps into my head and there is a peace. There's a couple "scenes", but one in particular I'll spare you all, but I wrote to him in a card I had Mike give him after I left. He was just standing there, with that "I'm so proud of myself" look on his face tell me, "You wanna laugh. I know you wanna laugh." And I did wanna laugh, or hug him or kiss him...but I was trying to discourage immature behavior. :)

Kare, I know you'll understand this...but I get so upset because I don't understand how someone I love SO much and think is SO wonderful doesn't see it in themself. And how the "shell Neil" can kill "my Neil" and nothing can be done about it. And everytime I try and convince myself that maybe "my Neil" has finally won and is blissfully happy , the part of me still connected in some way to that part of him warns me it's not the truth. He's not the way he was...more "mature" maybe, but not as much "fun".

And realizing this, and feeling like this, and "awakening" the part of me that is still SO in love reminds me how much I truly WANT to feel like that again. So, maybe all hope for me is not lost. I don't believe Phyl, though. I do believe there are such things as happy endings.


In FYI news:

I turned down a temp job yesterday after interviewing b/c it was a job, but farther away from intelligent and any type of career I'd want that I could ever imagine and it's about time I stop taking "jobs" and start trying to form a "path". It felt good. I got a call from Manpower today asking if I'd be interested in temping at a start-up company in Marlton similar to a Sylvan Learning Center. The job starts Oct. 21st. (which brings me to...)

My Aunt Lois is going to Florida Monday or so and had been asking my mom to take off and drive with her and keep her company for a few days. If she is willing to let me, I think I might go, spend a week in Orlando, hand out resumes and relax a bit.

Tomorrow the Flyers start their season. We're hoping for a somewhat full house to enjoy the kick off of mom's favorite holiday. Pizza and junk food galore! :)

I'm off to bed. Good Night, Good Day (and have a pleassant tomorrow ;) ).

Hi guys!

First I'd like to say Football sucks! My picks are sinking me lower and lower and each week they look REAL good before the games start! :)

Now, on to other stuff. As you all know, or should, I am unemployed again. I had an interview today with a company my temp agency sent me to, but I had to turn them down. The job was basically shuttling papers from one department to another and I couldn't justify it to myself. I know having income is a good thing, but lately I feel like I'm moving further and further away from my life. Not that I have a plan or goals or anything, I just feel like I'm moving completely backwards in life. Pretty soon I'll be wearing diapers and gurggling again! :)

My nightmares are back. (for those of you keeping score at home! :) ) Very cyclical I'm starting to think, but I have no idea what triggers them.

I was watching John Edwards last night and he was reading a woman who was hearing from her late husband. She was young, probably 40's somewhere, and he was saying she had moved on and was seeing someone new. John said the husband was saying her being with someone new was a gift; like a tribute; She loved what he and she had together so much, she wanted to feel like that again. What a nice thought. I was so happy to hear that, then I realized...I want pain. :) I want remorse for leaving and aching b/c he misses me. I want him never to feel like he did with me again with anyone else...ever. so, maybe you get nicer when you're dead! :)

In any case, I'm blowing off the gym today, heading to the grocery store and then to get my hair chopped. Not quite sure how, but something drastic and different. Studies show when women are bored or going through changes or need a jump start in life, they change their hair! :) So, I'll try and get a picture and send it through email, for those of you who won't see me in the next week or so.

For all others, happy non-Yankees and Braves Playoffs! (Sorry Hank, Kare and AJ...but hate in rivalry runs deep! ) And Keep your fingers crossed my football picks get better. Night!

He-l-l-lo There!

I'm a little punchy today, so who knows where this blog will end up.

Is it me, or is everyone experiencing horrible allergy things the last week or so? Mine have been awful!

I watched the Emmy's last night (I figured I'd catch The Sopranos on re-run either tonight or tomorrow). I LOVED Oprah's speech and it was so sweet watching Stedman try not to cry watching her! I was VERY upset Six Feet Under didn't win anything, but thought it was pretty cool that Aaron Sorkin acknowledged the writing in that show. Speaking of shows, I'm in terrible conflict with the new season of shows starting. some of the new ones look SO good, but they conflict with other ones I already watch! Hmm...guess I'll have to practice my remote control skills until I weed out a "do-able" schedule. :)

Things with Phyl are going well. I'm scheduled to see her today. Can't say things feel much better, but maybe less severe (or prominent). However, I am on some kind of reading marathon! Phyl lets me borrow all sorts of books. so, so far I've read most of the ones written by Jonathan Kellerman and am moving on to about 16 others she's given me. If you don't hear from me, it's probably b/c I'm off in a book somewhere. :) I also just heard there's a supposed rival to Harry Potter that's hit the U.S. called The Thief Lord. aybe, if nothing else, it will provoke J.K. to finish the 5th one already!

Football seemed a little better this week, but really Hank...where ARE you getting your inside advice? Stock market scandals spilling over into football? If so, let me know how I can get some inside info too! :) I need the help! :)

Last, but not least, I may be giving my 2 week notice today. Thursday was an AWFUL day and it just "broke the camel's back" of many awful days which preceeded. I spoke to Charlie about it and he (finally) informed me they will be hiring someone full time slated to begin in November when Michele leaves. I could stay until then, but I'm tried and figure even temping I could make about the same money, work more hours, and have LOTS less stress and frustration! I just don't know I can hold out here until November knowing I'll be out of a job and dealing with the crap here. I may think about it until tomorrow...but I doubt it.

I hope you all are doing well.