Going down the Rabbit-Hole...

One benefit of being stuck in a hospital room without reliable internet access, was the opportunity to go read all of those blog posts that I've been accumulating in my Favorite Blogs Folder for just such an occasion!

Before I share some of my faves, I have to ask all of you other bloggers and readers how you manage your reading and writing schedule.  Has anyone found that illusive perfect system?  Throughout my life, I have been on a variety of quests for the perfect something...the perfect crayon color, zit cover-up, handbag, baby monitor, humidifier, planner.  With my new role as Chief Chick and the accompanying inbox that overfloweth, I am hard-pressed to choose between reading and writing!

Recently Melinda, one of my oldest (not age-wise Mel!!) friends, was talking about reading my June Synopsis blog and confessed that she had resisted going down the rabbit-holes.  This term was new to me, and I immediately fell in love with it.  Like my fifteen year-old with a new saying, I may be wearing out its welcome, but am doing so with glee!  Such a wonderful way to sum up the blog-reading experience.

 The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.


Now, the fact is that going down the rabbit-hole was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to Alice and led her to Wonderland!  Problem is, that most of us aren't just sitting on the bank being bored.  So we avoid the rabbit-hole like the plague.  Even when some of the very best scenery is to be had by falling:

The very oldest post I had was from Penelope Trunk's Brazen Careerist way back in February.  All about mindfulness, one line especially stuck with me as I am guilty as sin of this one: 


Hohlbaum says, “Busy is the new fine.” It’s true. Someone asks, “How are you?” and you say, “Busy.” Can you see how messed up that is? It’s a script, right? The person doesn’t really care how you are. The person wants to just hear that you’re fine and move on to the meat and potatoes of the conversation. So if you say busy, you are either saying you do not understand the social convention of opening niceties (very bad to say) or you are saying that busy is the new fine (also very bad to say). Busy is not fine. Busy is too much going on to be your best self. So stop talking about it and fix it.


Then I took a side trip over to Remodelaholics blog where I always learn something new, and was rewarded with an introduction to Rosie's Whimsy, and presto-the perfect birthday gift for my daughter!


Seth Godin can be annoyingly prolific, but I must admit he often says something really valuable and has that uncanny ability to say it an a way that stays with you. Here's a taste:


In short: it's a lot easier to seduce someone whose worldview and attitude makes them open to it. If you want to be successful at whatever form of seduction you have in mind, seek out the right people.


I have never read Lip-Sticking without coming away re-committed to the cause that's been growing in my heart like Alice after a piece of cake: women.


We're stronger, better, smarter, more confident than at any other time in history. We have a strong collective voice online via blogs, Twitter, Facebook, and our many communities. We aren't afraid to speak up nor are we afraid to stand up.

Sometimes a fall down a rabbit-hole is just what the doctor ordered. Now just have to figure out how to find the perfect time to fall...

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Thank you Karen!

From Birthday to Hospital Stay

Today will be the 85th birthday celebration I have cobbled together over five kids and 21 years...well I guess I didn't really do parties on their actual birth days-but labor should count don't you think?

My youngest is 11 ...and I always loved that his birthday falls on the 27th, as mine does too.  Of course my husband will tell you that I FORCED the doc to deliver the baby that day...that he wasn't really ready.  But he was my biggest at 8 lb 15 oz and if I'd waited til his due date on August 15th, I shudder to imagine the outcome.

Okay...it's 30 hours from when I first began writing.  Interrupted by the birthday boy, and then right in the middle of ice cream cake for breakfast began experiencing some sudden episodes of vertigo followed by numbness; ended up spending the rest of the day in the Cape Regional Medical Center ER (known in local circles as Cape Fear).

Let me begin by saying that it's not very nice for me to broadcast that nickname to the entire world (or at least my 79 followers)...and everyone has been very nice.  BUT I have had some interesting experiences at this hospital over the years.  I'll save these for another blog...

 One observation from this day-that-feels-like-a-year hospital stay is how incredibly aggravating it is to be asked by every single staff member that enters the room holding my chart "what brings you here?" as if they can't read.

I was just informed that the MRI that I was supposed to have first thing this morning, and then at 12:45, has been moved to 5pm.  I am about to dishonorably discharge myself with the help of my nursing student daughter-with-an-attitude.  UGH!  Stay tuned.

Get to Know you Monday Post

Early to Dine, Early to Die?

My mom is navigating her first year as a widow.  She hates that word, and who wouldn't, so don't tell her I used it in the same sentence as "my mom".  


One of the hardest parts of this new life, is the loneliness at the end of the day.  Preparing a nice dinner had long been a big part of Mom's identity.  Now with no one to feed but herself, she is grateful whenever she has evening plans.  Her friends have been wonderful about frequently including her but once in a while the weekend looms with nothing on the calendar, and those are the days that I most regret  living nearly 2000 miles away.


So when Mom told me she'd been invited to dinner last Friday at her friend's retirement home, I was thrilled.  Then she told me what time she was invited to come for a drink beforehand.  


4:15 p.m.


Well if you're going to have a drink before dinner, and you're required to be at the dining room by 5:15 , then 4:15 makes sense. Except for the fact that it's absurd. This premature dinner bell for the elder crowd floors me as much as the 7:00 a.m. school bell start for a majority of  high schools. These times are clearly for the convenience of everyone but the ones who matter most. 


First of all, what do you think your evening would be like if you began cocktailing at 4:15? (Mind you this group that I grew up with have always had cocktail hour before dinner, and that's not likely to change until their only sustenance is through an I.V.) And even if they were willing to wait until dinner to have a drink, they couldn't, because most senior homes won't serve alcohol.  So, just like underage college kids, they pre-game in their rooms, apartments or cottages.


The next question is what do you do at 6:15 when dinner is over, the help is shooing you out of the dining hall, and it's not even going to be dark for another two hours? Well, one guess is that you continue drinking (or go to bed at 8).  Either way, it sounds pretty damn depressing.  No wonder 80,000 of the 8 million alcoholics in this country are senior citizens.  I'd be one too if that's what the second half of every day looked like. 


I've learned that alcohol withdrawal syndrome (AWS) is often the trigger for organ failure in general hospital patients. Before my dad's hernia surgery last fall, he was advised not to drink for the 24 hours leading up to the surgery.  Now my dad relished his scotch and soda, but he was also the type of guy who would never disobey a doctor's orders.  So he didn't have a drink that Sunday.  Which only meant that the DTs hit him a day earlier than they would have if he had.  Alcohol withdrawal is a process; a long process  While there have been attempts (by the Mayo Clinic no less!) to develop a protocol around detection and management of AWS in general hospital patients, the failure of medical personnel to fully analyze a patient's odds for experiencing "delirium tremens" is certainly a factor in the mortality rate of elderly surgery patients.
In fact, there are doctors and researchers who suggest that it be safer to give

Riding the Brake?

This morning I headed out for my bike ride early to try to beat the heat and wind. While it was still pretty darned hot with the typical breeze from the south, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been on Monday afternoon.  Nevertheless, I was surprised at how hard the going was.  Maybe I'm getting sick, I thought.  Or maybe I should have had a little more breakfast fuel...

By the time I'd finished my usual two loops, I was almost panting. Not good. On a whim,  I  swung by the bike shop on my way home. The news both good and bad; my tires were low and the front brake was rubbing the wheel.  I was relieved to know it wasn't really my fault, though some might say it was... But instead of beating myself up over what more experienced bikers might view as a silly oversight, I preferred to think "Hot-Diggety -just think how fast I'll go tomorrow!"

Riding with the brake half engaged has surely happened during this first year of MidChix too.  I had to learn how to blog, tweet, link articles, use the right key words, and a whole bunch of other new skills. There have been times when I've felt like smacking my head when I think about the mistakes we've made or the opportunities we've missed.  But that would hurt!  And what good would it do?

I prefer to think that like riding a bike with soft tires and a nagging brake pad increased my stamina, built my strength, and pushed me to pedal harder - launching a social networking site with a faulty PR strategy and an ornery software platform has increased my resilience, built my knowledge, and pushed me to peddle harder.  And when I hop on my tuned-up wheels tomorrow morning, the ride will be just as sweet as MidChix future is shaping up to be!

Planes, Parents, Priorities

Yesterday I flew home from the beach to be with my husband for his minor surgery.  While I’m not generally a fan of Southwest Airlines, they had the best fare and schedule, so that trumped preference.  Slightly more savvy than with my first trip on Southwest, I had paid the ten bucks for priority seating thus knew my chances of a decent seat were pretty good. 

With a packed gate area, there was the inevitable call for a volunteer to give up his/her seat, as the flight was oversold.  I felt sorry for the elderly lady in the wheelchair by the podium, not because she might not get a seat, but because her portly, middle-aged son was making such a scene.  At the same time, there was a young mom traveling on her own with two small children, a preschool girl and an eighteen month-old.  She was struggling with the screaming boy who was arching, kicking and trying to wriggle out of her arms as only a toddler can do.  To make matters worse, she didn’t know there wasn’t automatic pre-boarding for people traveling with small kids.  But the gate agent took pity on her and she gratefully maneuvered a double stroller down the gateway while holding on to her flailing son, shouldering her purse and diaper bag, all the while calmly talking her three year-old daughter onto the plane.

 The 60ish man standing next to me, unencumbered by anything but his self-righteousness, tried to catch my eye and that of the woman in front of me, and said, “what he needs is a good spanking”.  She concurred, and added cynically “but they don’t do that these days”.  I should have said something, but just lowered my eyes and shook my head. When I boarded, I spotted them a few rows back; the kids were briefly perched together by the window, while mom was trying to squeeze the diaper bag under the middle seat in front of her.  Content to get an aisle seat at the front of the plane, and after years of traveling with my own children, I seized the opportunity to pay it forward by helping another mom, and sat down next to her.

Chase screamed and kicked for the first hour on the flight.  Undoubtedly it was hard on the other passengers (luckily the seats in front of us held a couple with a two year-old of their own), but not nearly as hard as it was on his mother who did everything she could think of to calm him.   At one stage she was clearly frightened, admitting that she had never seen her son this out of control.  He was in a rage.  It wasn’t her fault or his; it was just one of those things that toddlers do.  And being confined to a middle seat on a crowded plane didn’t leave her many options.  Despite how distraught she was over the whole situation, she never lost her cool.  This was remarkable; I kept thinking about another son in a rage, back in the gate area, one that was fifty years his senior but still screaming like the infuriated toddler.

Most people have forgotten what it’s like to care for small children, much less to be one.  It’s so much easier to criticize, complain and pass judgment than to empathize or help.  The more I reflect back on my twenty year journey as a stay-at-home mom, the more indignant I become at the way society overlooks both the contribution and sacrifices of women like me.  Working moms too, still bear the majority of the burden of childcare (not to mention housework), as well as the blame for “bad behavior”.

My seatmate shared, after Chase had finally fallen into a brief exhausted sleep, that prior to children she’d had a ten-year career in ad sales.  She had earned a good salary, been well respected and connected.  She had loved her work.  By choosing to stay home with her children, she had given up more than a paycheck.  Yet, I know the job she is doing now is even more important.  How curious it is that despite the multitude of societal ills that inarguably spring from AWOL parents, employed or not, there continues to be such an under-estimation and under-appreciation for parents who do the job of parenting, despite its challenges.

I am convinced that devotion to the all-mighty dollar, has caused a dangerous devaluation of parenting.  I wonder what it will take for the pendulum to swing back?  The headlines of this week’s issue of New York magazine speak to another piece of the puzzle.  In “I Love My Children. I Hate My Life.  The Misery of the American Parent”, Jennifer Senior examines the issue.  She cites several studies, one of which concludes that our abundance of choices -whether to have kids, when, how many - may be one of the reasons that parents are less happy.  She also infers that the longer people put off having children, the greater the expectations AND the more you’re giving up.  I would agree with this notion.  Having my first baby at 27, I had only worked for a few years between college and graduate school.  We were young and trying hard to pay the bills.  I didn’t have to give up going to the gym, getting my nails done, or extravagant Sunday brunches; they were activities I didn’t do and therefore didn’t miss.

So our choices are to stop reproducing in favor of happiness, have children but hire others to do the dirty work, or expect and share the burdens and joys of parenting and with the understanding that, just like a blue chip stock, the rewards are not immediate but are well worth waiting for. 

I do know there are rewards.  I am experiencing them on a regular basis now.  And I sure earned them.  Frankly, I believe that I should have earned a salary as well.  Just think how much better things would be if parents who chose to be the primary caregiver were actually compensated for the 24/7 job they do. It is hard, often thankless work.  But paid or not, the long-term payoff for parenting with commitment and consistency has been sweet.

I never did learn the name of the mom though by the end of our flight I knew her daughter’s favorite Disney princess, that her son plays a mean game of peek-a-boo,  her husband plays a lot of golf, she wants desperately to move back to Colorado, and that despite her raging toddler and a hellish plane ride, she was, and continues to be, a good mother.  Mom to Grace and Chase, may your reward be as sweet as mine.

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Children-love them

Early yesterday morning I stopped at Wawa

for the Sunday paper and

a carton of milk.

(if you haven't heard about this phenomenal

east coast hotspot, read more of my recent kudos). While standing in the long, but fast-moving line I was entertained by two adorable, pajama-clad, tousled and tow-headed kids in front of me. A little boy @ 5 and sister @ 4 were in line with their dad, who had a carrier of coffees, and a bag with what

looked suspiciously like a single doughnut.

These kiddos were just about the cutest things I'd ever seen. And good. No whining, wiggling, itching, begging, or man-handling the candy in the eye-level rack. After a few minutes though, I wondered why there was no interaction whatsoever between the man and his children. Correction, the only interaction was when he gave a little nudge to the back of the girl's head after checking out to signal "go!". That's when I realized that the reason those kids were so 'good' might be because of what would happen if they weren't.

I followed them out to the parking lot and as the father (at first I had thought grandfather, since he appeared to be closer to my age than the usual late 30s typical dad with 2 preschoolers) opened the back door to his car, I asked "How do you like that Ford Flex?"

He gave me a brief, positive review, after which I took the opportunity to comment on his charming children. As they climbed into the back of the Flex, he said "you can have 'em".

Now I admit that I too have joked about putting my kids up for adoption. But those jokes have been squeezed in between hugs, conversations, activities, kisses, teachable moments, cuddling, and daily, loving interaction. If I had seen even one little hint of fatherly affection, I wouldn't have come away quite so heartsick at this sad encounter. I know from my stint on the board of The Kempe Foundation for The Prevention and Treatment of Child Abuse and Neglect that child

abuse is common (3 times more prevalent than all childhood cancers combined), class-blind (it happens at all socio-economic levels), and perpetrated by parents 80% of the time. Last year, in our country:

• 3.2 million children were investigated for child abuse andneglect
• Nearly 800,000 children were abused and neglected
• Over 1,700 children died from child abuse - 76% of the children were younger than age 4.
• Child abuse often happens to young children. Over half of the children who experienced abuse and neglect were 7 years old or under.

The consequences of abuse and neglect are staggering and gravely underestimated by most people. The numbers tell a devastating story. 850,000 children are in foster care annually, with babies being at the highest risk of entering foster care. 20% of children taken from their homes and put into foster homes are under the age of one, 24% are between two and three years old.

Later in life it gets even worse:

Drug Abuse

· Abused adolescents are 3 times more likely to abuse drugs.

Juvenile Crime

· Abused adolescents commit 3 times more juvenile crimes.

Teenage Pregnancy

· Abused children are 50% more likely to become pregnant as teenagers.

Mental Health

· Abused teenagers and adults are 4 times more likely to experience serious mental health problems such as severe anxiety disorders or depression

Suicide

· Abused teenagers are 6 times more likely to attempt suicide multiple times.

Academic Achievement

· Abused school-age children consistently perform lower on standardized test of reading and math skills. Abused children are also 2.5 times more likely to rep

eat at least one grade and 2 times more likely require special education services.

These numbers never fail to give me pause. Parenting is a a risky, stressful, strenuous, long-term venture, one that should not

be undertaken lightly. I am as dismaye

d by the mature who sign up for the job with no intention of any real commitment, as I am by the young who stumble into parenting as a result of sheer ignoran

ce.

I'm not suggesting that this particular father is going home to beat the children, (although he might later, after a drink or two). But I do wonder about the inner lives of children whose parents barely acknowledge them. I do know from dozens of childhood stories shared with me over the years that the trajectory of a majority of lives is determined during those first four critical years.

Now maybe they were playing a game called "whoever is the quietest in line at the Wawa wins the doughnut". But unfortunately, I don't think so.

A Night in NYC!

I made a quick trip to NYC on Thursday to attend Jane Pollak's Remarkable Women in New York event at EileenFisher . It was a fabulous twenty two hours in many ways. There is something so empowering about navigating one's way not only around the Big Apple but into itas well. Did you know there are 16 bridges that connect that one island to the surrounding neighborhoods (and over 2000 bridges and tunnels in the NY metro area)!? Incredibly, I took the right one! Even after living in Brooklyn for two years, in Manhattan for two more, then 11 in Westchester, I had never driven over the Manhattan Bridge. Its a beauty. Too bad you have to watch the road rather than take in the view...

I parked down near Canal Street as my son's new apartment is in what he called the Lower East Side and what I'd call smack dab the middle of Chinatown. With an hour to spare, some 'fowl' looking feet, and des

perate for a restroom (if this doesn't give you Deja vu then read about my last road trip), I decided to kill two birds with one stone by turning into the very first store front with a handwritten sign offering a $28 express pedicure PLUS FREE 15 MINUTE MASSAGE. After relieving myself, and settling in for a quick foot soak and scrub, I was sorely disappointed to learn that the 15 minute massage (she actually turned on an egg timer and handed it to me) was for my calves not my screaming shoulders and neck. Having inexplicably sensitive calves, I waved her off and dashed out. Despite skipping out on the freebie, I was still tardy, something that used to never happen but has become a nasty habit of late.

Jane Pollack has pulled together a diverse and fabulous group of gals. All of us are in various stages of identifying, pursuing, or living a dream. By sharing our efforts and ideas in the larger group and then in small, intimate flocks, we were each able to truly connect and communicate in a relatively brief encounter. It always amazes me how one can walk away from a single evening with so many new friends and insights. Big thanks to Jane, and also to Eileen Fisher.

When I lived in Irvington, NY, a decade ago, my daughter went to Dows Lane School with Eileen's son. She has the kind of story that can't help but boost the spirits of new entrepreneurs. With only $350 in 1984, she started her business of making women simply look good, and by 2008 the company had sales of $273 million. She has donated over $100,000 to charities and just last fall opened Eileen Fisher Lab in Irvington, where the sale of recycled clothes will go to charities that help women and girls. Here's to equal success and "pay it forward philosphies" for each of us!

A few of the chix I met are already running successful businesses. Debbie Fay is a public speaking coach (where was she last fall when I had my first tv spot? This is such an important tool for women entrepreneurs...check out her services at bespeak presentations.

Susan Kleiman, the remarkable mom of Ross, has brought her sales and marketing acumen to helping the 23 million parents caring for a special needs child. She founded Ross Daniel Adaptive Apparel ensuring that even people with disabilities can dress and dine with dignity. There has been such an enormous response to her clothing that she is seeking a manufacturing company that can help her fill the demand. If you have ideas, please contact her at 800-994-1074.

Cathline Marshall runs Studio K & M, a full-service web design and concept firm with an experienced eye for usability. Cathline is working on a personal campaign to educate the pedestrians in NY. An ambitious goal for sure; but if you have ever tried to walk down the street in the city, you might want to jump on the bandwagon!

Next stop, Ludlow Street, to see Will's new digs that we had ponied up first month's, last month's, extra month's, and 15% of all months' rent for back in April. Thankfully, it was as cool as he had promised. Only problem is the AC wasn't - so we sat on his tiny 6th floor balcony with our plastic cups of wine and looked out on the rooftops... bringing back memories of Gin & Rummy with his dad on hot summer nights on our own first apartment's balcony 22 years ago.

Little Italy beckoned, so off to Grotta Azzurra on Mulberry Street. We had an exceptional meal. (Plus the AC worked!) Highly recommended.

After another hour of catching up, and a few hours of sleep, I headed out early to beat the crowds. But in New York, the early morning streets are buzzing with activity. In Chinatown, there were trucks unloading enormous bags of bean sprouts and cases of eggs on every block while restaurant owners transferred them down rusty ramps to damp basements. It was an eye-opener. It's rare to get a glimpse behind the scenes and this was a fascinating one. A lot of hard work goes into daily life.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself walking a few blocks in the heat with a blister, 2 bags, and no coffee. As I negotiated my way back over the bridge, I marveled at the incredible indelible impression of this city that never sleeps, and mysteriously functions because of or despite its 8 million people and 800 languages.

Wow. That's all I can say is Wow.

It's a Dog's Life

My dog knows how to relax. If only I could learn from him; maybe I could stop reading all the self-help books and say "screw it, I'm just going lie in the doorway today". He has perfected a skill that so many life coaches are trying so hard to teach to so many clients: how to just say "no". Despite the prong collar, training sessions with South Jersey's famous "Devil Dog Trainer", and yes, I admit it, even bribery with a Philly cheese steak, if the dog doesn't want to walk, he isn't going to walk.

Perhaps his former family were Zen practitioners- he's clearly well-schooled in the concept of "just being".

My husband has never been a dog person, or actually an animal person of any kind. (Don't let him near your cat-if it weren't for his high school job at Burger King, who knows, he may have become one of those people who start out torturing animals and end up as fodder for the newest Law & Order spin-off.) It took me ten years to talk him into this dog. And I had to sign a pretty comprehensive (and somewhat raunchy) contract to boot.

Although Phil's the one who said the dog would never be allowed upstairs or on the furniture, he was the first to teach Augie how to jump on the couch. He swore he'd never clean up poop, yet when I was gone all day picking up from camp, he cleaned up poop more times than he's changed diapers (and we have 5 kids)! Tough guy also stipulated that he'd never pay a red cent for medical attention, but just this week signed us up for Pet's Best pet insurance( check them out-they really are the best!)

and generally loves the dog just as much as the rest of us.

When my fifteen year old and I first met Augie, he was in a kennel at the Dumb Friends League along with 2 female dogs. He had just been neutered, and while most guys curl up with a bag of frozen peas after that indignity, not our boy. Named Dilbert for some unknown reason by the folks at the shelter, he was lying on his back, legs spread while the gals licked those stitches. Hoo boy. Now, I knew my husband would admire this kind of audacity in a dog, and he was pathetically sympathetic when

Augie had his comeuppance the next day (as more boys should), when the stitches got infected and he had to wear this cone.

Sure, the pup has a little problem with possession aggression, so if you see him with a ball or bone, don't think he's going to share. (Just ask my ten year-old about his stitches...)

But besides that, he is quite a wonderful addition to our household-and it's hard to resist when he rolls over for yet another tummy rub.

Thirty Days has September, April, June, and November...

When I was little, my mother's best friend had a sign in her kitchen that read: "The Hurrieder I Go, The Behinder I Get." I could always relate to that sign. Often it feels like no matter how fast or far or furiously I pedal, when I look ahead, I still have just as far to go...but as my husband likes to remind me every so often, the problem is not the road, it's my perspective. So during a week when I can barely sleep because of the number of competing projects, plans, posts, and people vying for my attention, I've decided to glance in the rearview mirror and see the reflection of what I HAVE done. This may be a little like making a to-do list of accomplished tasks just so you can check them off... but hope you'll humor me!

June 2010

6/1 Met with Louise Walsh of American Business Women Association - for more info go HERE.

and visited Safehouse-Denver. You can too: HERE.

an amazing organization that provides domestic violence emergency shelter, intervention, counseling and education.

6/2 Co-hosted a farewell party for my ten year-old and 3 classmates moving to new schools.

6/3 Met Charlie Groves and learned about a fabulous new app called resQlink launching soon HERE.

6/4 Co-hosted a book signing event with Mi Casa HERE , The Latina Chamber HERE featuring Helen Thorpe and her ground-breaking book, Just Like Us.

6/5 Celebrated Lisa's 40th with the Pilates Within gang. HERE

6/6 Drove @700 miles to Des Moines with 15 year old co-pilot, dog, kid, and guitar.

6/7 Experienced Chicago from Lake Michigan via Wendella boat tour HERE

6/8 Wondered how Conneaut Day's Inn stays in business...READ MORE HERE

6/9 Experienced more rain during 12 hours in Hancock, NY than during last 12 months in Denver.

6/10 Arrived in PA to regale mother, brother, daughter, aunt & uncle with road trip trivia.

6/11 Met Missy Stein of WHAT 1340AM HERE and shared MidChix story with Philly listeners. LISTEN HERE

6/12 Crossed the bridge into Stone Harbor REMINISCE WITH ME

6/13 Cleaned, unpacked, walked, read, sunned, planted, rearranged, slept, relaxed, weeded, wrote.

6/14 Interviewed by Pat Lynch of WomensRadio HERE.

6/15 Forgot to attend my niece's graduation. Sorry Courtney!

6/16 Discussed process to become Contributing Editor to WomensRadio.

6/16 Prepared for hubby's arrival (i.e. emptied dishwasher, shaved legs, purchased wine)

6/17 Took photos of the 100th Street House for VRBO.com HERE

6/18 Pretended it wasn't Father's Day

6/19 Pinched myself and Phil a few times to make sure we weren't dreaming we were alone

6/20 Made plans with college pal Tree for our 30 year friend anniversary in September

6/21 Drove to Baltimore and back for Women's Business Enterprise National Council annual conference. HERE

6/22 Had my back adjusted at Olivieri Chiropractic. Bad Back in South Jersey? HERE

6/23 Met the notorious Devil Dog Trainer Donna and learned how to be alpha HERE

6/24 Broke down and ate not just one, but two doughnuts from Kohlers-mail order available HERE

6/25 Savored our last night alone.

6/28 Drove 5 hours to Hancock, watched You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, Gypsy, a vocal recital, and met Nacho, the horse, drove 5 hours back to Stone Harbor!

6/29 Attended my first webinar ever - Basic Training in Audio Acrobat, the most magical and valuable online tool I have EVER encountered CHECK IT OUT HERE

6/30 Made it to first Mermaids Book Club HERE meeting and chose The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender as our next read.

Conclusions: Domestic violence is terrorism, soon your IPhone may save your life, immigration laws must change, 40 is the new 30, it rains a lot east of Denver, driving is hard on your back, water is good for the psyche, old dogs can learn new tricks, I probably didn't even need to shave, following directions in reverse is harder than you'd think, cream doughnuts are worth it, I have a lot of reading to do, audio acrobat could change everything, and you really do learn something new every day...

Just think, most months have 31!