The Contrail

I woke up this morning, the Tenth Anniverary of 9/11, at my parents' house.  It was quiet because they live in the country.  I laid there and listened to the silence...thinking.  Thinking. 

Mass was outdoors this morning and what a lovely day for it!  Chilly at first, but the sky was blue and the sun rose with a purpose.  Mass began with a nice tribute to 9/11 and a flag ceremony by the Boy Scouts.  I took note that they correctly set Old Glory to half-staff.

The kids were a bit jittery but I was in my own world.  Years of Catholic school education still leave me with the ability to waltz through a Mass with no problem...all the prayers and the calisthenics that come with it.  Although this isn't probably looked fondly upon, it did give me the ability to reflect while still participating. 

As the Mass moved on, I felt the warm sun on my back.  I noticed the blue sky.  No clouds to be seen.  It reminded be distinctly of a day, ten years earlier, that looked very much the same.  That Tuesday morning in 2001 was a cloudless, azure beauty, just like this morning.  The trees were fully adorned in their summer best, a few beginning to resign themselves to Autumn's golden whispers.  Birds still flew and a light breeze tickled the congregation.

Quietly, I noticed a glint of light.  I looked up.  A contrail.  A closer look would reveal the outline of a jetliner skimming the blue above.  This, you see, is nothing out of the ordinary here.  We live directly under the flight path of Kansas City International  to Denver International.  We see tiny planes and their self-made clouds on a daily basis here.

This morning was different.  As Psalms were read in the background, I imagined this jet.  The cockpit...the flight crew...the passengers.  I wondered how many of them were scared to fly today?  How many of them almost didn't board that flight?  I wondered how many of those airline employees lost a co-worker or a friend ten-years ago today?  I wondered if "flying the friendly skies" will ever be "friendly" again, especially on September 11?

I leaned to the left and whispered to my brother, Rich..."Those have to be some brave souls to board a jetplane on September 11."  He looked up, nodding reverently, and went back to Mass-as-usual.  I watched the plane until it flew out of my peripheral view.  I wonder what those itty-bitty souls in that itty-bitty jetplane would have thought if they'd known what this girl on the ground was thinking?  That I was sitting at Mass, praying for them, in the presence of the American Flag at half-staff?  I wonder if they knew God was with them?

¡No Pollo!

This is a story that just never seems to end.  Let me explain...

Back many years ago, when I was about 13 or 14, my parents decided to get chickens.  Yes, we lived in the "country", but not on a farm.  I'd never owned livestock before.  I was unskilled how to make the distinction between "pet" and "food".  This is where we run into a problem.

When we first got these chickens, they were chicks.  They were little, they were yellow, they were fuzzy.  Possibly the most important part...they peeped.  I was hooked.

It's been a while since "ChickenGate" went down, so I'll remember this the best I can.  It was several months of feeding and tending to chicks.  Who somehow, quickly, turned into white hens.  But I LOVED the white hens!!  And I played with them.  And fed them.  I even picked them up and carried them around. 

Meanwhile, as I sit back and think, I'm sure my mother was inside washing dishes and looking out at me, thinking: "You know, we should really tell her we're going to make her kill those chickens and eat them."  And then she just went back to washing dishes...
I cannot remember ever being told the chickens were going into the frying pan, but then again I'm not sure I would have believed it anyway...

One day came and it was TIME.  I'm not really sure how it went down, but my mom had a knife and some chickens lost their noggins.  I remember being tasked with scalding and removing the feathers.  It was not awesome.  In fact, it was downright horrid.  That was seared into my memory.

For many meals after that, chicken was on the menu.  From that day on, "chicken on the bone" is just something I cannot do.

Fast forward to present day...

My brother, Tom, has chickens.  They are running around his yard.  He's gonna throw 'em in the smoker and eat 'em.  My kid, Gabe, wants to see how this all goes down.  On one hand this is a great biology experiment for him...my brother is a Naturalist and I know he will approach it that way.  For that I am thrilled.  On the other hand, I'm sitting here almost gagging.


Fast forward again...

Gabe has help put the "laughter" in "slaughter"!  Ok, no not really...but he did have a good time helping out with the chickens.  He said it was kinda gross, but mostly it was cool.  He has been teasing me about it for days now, getting in my face with his arms flapping at his hips, saying "BOK BOK BOK!!"  I'd slap him if it didn't make me laugh.

So, Gabe had a great experience and it turns out it wasn't any different than hunting.  He knows where his food comes from...that in itself is valuable knowledge for a kiddo. 

Oh...and there are more chickens clucking around up at Tom's place..."here chicky chicky chicky..."

Preserving the 7th Amendment

The day after Independence Day...the day after we celebrated our freedom...we saw, once again, that our Founders were brilliant. 

We saw yesterday why our bravest men and women fight tirelessly for our freedom.

"In suits at common law, where the value in controversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a jury shall be otherwise reexamined in any court of the United States, than according to the rules of the common law."

Whatever happened to little Caylee, God will avenge her.  Yesterday, however, the jury did their job.  Reasonable doubt was alive in the jurors' minds and they did the correct thing. 

We certainly don't have to appreciate this verdict, but we must understand that we have the greatest Justice System on earth. 

Perspective

Today, as I was driving down the highway with Jackie & Will, it hit me just how much I miss Gabe.  I miss his obnoxious laugh, his "pre-teen" way of seeing everything, the way only a boy can.  I miss him watching out for me, knowing he is fiercely loyal.  But most of all, I miss how he protects his little brother and sister. 

As we were leaving a store in the mall today (I had to make a quick exchange), Jackie and Will took off running.  With my back and knee all screwed up, I just can't chase them.  So out the doors they went, into the parking lot, and to the van.  On my way out the door, I got an evil look from one of the store employees.  I smiled wryly and went on after my kids.  My thoughts were not pleasant.

As I reached the van and proceeded to make my children's poor decision clear to them, I realized the part of the equation that was missing:  Gabe.  The kids miss him and they are totally out of their element.  I miss him...he usually plays bouncer and cop for me where the little ones are concerned.  If they take off, I send Gabe bounding after them.  It isn't always pretty, but it gets the job done.

So I am completely looking forward to tomorrow evening at 5:30pm when I get to go pick up my boy and bring him back to me where he belongs.  I have a new perspective on Gabe and just how precious he is. 

Nerves of Steel?

Nerves.

They have medicines for nerves that make you anxious.  Trust me, I'm friends with several of those.  Today I could use a personal phamacist to come sit with me.  The nerves are pushing it.

They have meds for that pesky sciatic nerve in my back.  Even after surgery, it still rears its ugly, pointy head.  Unfortunately, the only meds that fix that require me to pass out and deal with wacky dreams instead.  But I'm all out of those lovelies.

So here I am today, laying around at my folks' house, chickens running outside.  My brain is fully engulfed in flames...worry and "what ifs" licking at my nerves.  Anger and resentment are trying me.  There are so many things to be concerned about.

The ex just got his second apartment since he moved away and I'm still living in our old house, with the kids, trying to sell it.  Oh the nerve!  That one has me seeing red today.

But, amongst all the red, and the flames and the nerves, I know it will all be ok.  The days keep moving, my back keeps healing and the battery in the camera is fully charged.  No matter what happens, no matter how wildly my nerves fly, everything will be okay. 

Nerves and all. :)

Some Days Are Like That

Today's been one of those days.

Started early...was good... then it was great...then it was okay...then it sucked...and now I am having some hot tea and it's okay again.

When the time came to put the chickens to bed, they all cuddled together and said "mom, read to us!"...so, I grabbed a book off the shelf.

"Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" by Judith Vorst

As I started reading, the irony wasn't lost on me.
So, instead of just "reading", I discussed.

 "Do you guys ever have days like this?"  Yes, mom, we do.
"Do you think Alexander has a good attitude?"  No, he's whining.
"Why don't you think anyone is paying any attention to him?"  Because he's whining!


Alexander always says he's going to Australia whenever he is upset.
So I asked the kids to each tell me the name of an animal that lives in Australia (you can take the mom out of the zoo but you can't take the zoo out of the mom!)
Gabe:  Wallaby
Jackie: Kangaroo
Will (via mom's whisper in ear): Echidna


At the end of Alexander's day, his mom says:  "Some days are like that"

At the end of the day, (even the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad ones), there is always something good.

You just have to choose to see it.

No You Can't. Oh...YES I can.

The unemployment in this country is 9%.  I'm (un)happy to report that I've done more than my share in the past year to contribute statistically.  I've done my time as a number.

I hear it all the time...Get A Job.  Even my own kids like to use my unemployed status as a TKO.  "You don't have a job, mom".  Hey, guess what?  You still have more of everything than you need and WAY more than you deserve, so shut it!!  I am up at 6am most days and doing my job search as if it were a job.  And it is.
But I've grown tired of the job search and now it's time to re-define how to do this.

Yesterday I sent my resume for a job with my "dream company"...The International Society of Arboriculture.  The world headquarters are located in Champaign, IL where Mike lives...the first time I visited Champaign, I passed the offices of the ISA.  The drool coming out of my mouth at the mere sight of that unassuming little building was enough to drown myself and the kids in the car as we drove by.  Working for the ISA would be amazing, but my guess there are a ton of other people who are thinking the very same thing.

There must be a way to re-define this again.

So, like any super-inspired job seeker, I Googled it.

What I found was intriguing.  The man's name is Jeff D. Opdyke and he wrote a really interesting piece about how he defined his dream job.  And then he told everyone about it until he found it.  The foundation of his article was that your dream job may well not exist...except in the mind of someone, somewhere.  And they may be in the same boat...they have an amazing idea for new direction but no one to manage it.  Eventually, this guy received a phone call from a company who wanted him to do what he wanted to do...and a dream was fulfilled for two people.

My dream job is to combine my two passions:  environmental education and trees.  I want to be more than a community forester or a consulting arborist.  I want to work professionally, educating people on how trees work and why arboriculture, silviculture, agriforestry and dendrology in general are all so important.  Time to perfect this in a letter, hone the resume, and start sending it out out to whomever will pay attention!

Time to do more than look at the trees...time to shake the crap out of them!

You can read Mr. Opdyke's article at http://online.wsj.com/article/SB128001685283920691.html