On Breaking Tradition...

NaBloPoMo #18

Well.

I did it.

For years and years now, we've gathered together, usually in my home, for Thanksgiving dinner. I love to cook, and I usually start on Wednesday. Brian sleeps late, and wakes around 11 or 12. I feed him bacon when he wakes up. Then I crack the whip! Vacuum the house! Set up the folding tables! Light the candles! Stop smoking! (Hey. I can't help it. It's what Mom`s do.)

Teri brings big sides, like 100 lbs of mashed potatoes, and I force her to cook the gravy. Baby, I can roll some sushi, but gravy from scratch? Fuhgeddabout it. She brings that delicious broccoli cheese rice blop. We eat and eat, then we snap at one another to shut up while we watch Survivor. Mom nods off in the chair, while we whisper and point and laugh.


We are breaking with tradition this year.

It has been, for some reason, an enormous source of stress for me. Brian's in Iraq. Teri's second session of chemo will be on Monday. Mom? I cringe to say it, but Mom will just be merrily surprised to find out that today is Thanksgiving, and that she's coming for lunch with her kids.

Honestly? I'm wiped out. My dilemma has been: Do I spend $200 on groceries and cook for two days, alone, this time? (Clint is working, FYI.) I don't want Teri to cook. In fact, I forbid it! She started yammering about bringing this or that, and I told her to shut up, cuz I'm the boss of her. It's likely she may not feel like coming over at all.

I lamented to my girlfriends Friday night: What to do? Skipping Thanksgiving? God, that seems even more pathetic. No Thanksgiving on top of this?!!

How could I?

"Why don't you just buy one of those pre-maid dinners from a grocery deli?" Di asked? Melissa chimed in: Yes! Meijer does it! Schnucks!

Where have I been? I can CARRY OUT Thanksgiving dinner?

Hecks yeah, I can, and baby, my prayers have been answered.

THIS was in today's Sunday flyer.

Whoo Hoo! I'll fix a few pies, a salad or two, and at 3:00 Thursday afternoon, I'll race out and pick up dinner. I'll pop the turkey in the oven for 1 hour, and by 5:00, we'll sit down to a feast.

A completely handmade, homemade, feast, with everyone we love gathered around the table?

No.

But it's a fair substitute: We'll still gather 'round a table. We can afford this. Teri can take a nap, if she wants. And when we hold hands and tell what we're thankful for this year...

I hope it's that we got a phone call from Brian.

And that's he's doing just fine.

Next year, though.

Hold on to ya hats. You're all coming over.

You are in charge of gravy.

Worthwhile

NaBloPoMo #17

Though I've been on my first week-long vacation in years, life still goes on at home. I set aside a little time each day to address or delegate the addressing to correspondences that roll in. The only free wi-fi on Fremont Street was at the Krispy Kreme doughnot shop, so don't feel too sorry for me, emailing on my vacation.

I have to share a special one that came to me on Tuesday morning:

Just wanted to let you know that you are always in the back of my mind, like a little voice that I hear where our military is concerned.

I was having lunch today with a friend at El Toro. There were three very nice young men dressed in their military uniforms having lunch a few tables over. I instantly pictured you stopping over there and hugging them. Since I am not prone to hugging strangers, I opted instead to anonymously buy their lunch.

I do not have any family in the military nor do I even know anyone (other than your son) who serves, however...those boys became my family today. I just felt very protective of them and very proud also.

Thank you for being that little voice that helps me see outside my own circle. Now, if only your little voice would stop me from eating that decadent flan, that would ROCK!!!

It's interesting, having a cause. You kind of hope to convince people that it's a worthwhile cause. As I've written before, I've been most amazed that I haven't had to do any convincing to get help. That's a good thing, for me, because I'm almost incapable of shoving something down someone's throat. I once tried selling a certain cosmetic associated with pink cadillacs, and totally sucked at it. I thought the stuff was too expensive, constantly apologized to my customers, and gave it to them at cost.

I didn't believe in its worth.

This cause I work for now, I believe in. I know it's a good thing. I hear it, from my son. I hear it from soldiers, and former soldiers, and spouses, parents, and friends of soldiers.

If no one had asked to play along with me, in the last six months, I'd still be merrily mucking away, boxing beanies and care packages, and mailing what I could from my own paycheck every week.

I don't have to sell it.

I only have to share it.

The lady that wrote the above note gave me beanies this summer. I met her in the Silvercreek parking lot after work, and we unloaded her trunk into mine. I've met dozens of others after work, at Prairie Gardens, Panera Bread, UI parking lots, at their homes, and in my own driveway.

Sometimes, we're just dealing with a win-win situation: I'm helping folks clean out their closets, and putting a few smiles on a few overseas faces. I don't assume that they think of us further.

And sometimes I find out that I, my kid, his dad and stepmom, or anyone else that's helped out, have managed to really touched someone. To change the way they think, just a little bit. If it's to put a face on a soldier, by writing that he's from a family that owns an apple orchard, or to put a face on a parent, or to accidentally reduce a vet to tears by telling him "Thank you. I mean it. Thank. You."

Don't know him. Served in 'Nam.

You never know what will move someone to "pay it forward."

But one reader out there has done just that. I imagine three guys out there went back to work after lunch last week, and told all of their buddies that their tabs had been picked up by someone in the restaurant. They told their wives, their mothers, their children. I imagine them, perhaps, 50 years from now, telling their grandchildren about being in the army in 2007, and how one time, someone even paid for their lunch....

That is powerful to me. That is changing the direction of the world.

It is just so easy.

...

So much easier that resisting the flan.

:-) Thanks, TW.

People Watching

NaBloPoMo #16

Back to work today, and already I'm happy that the weekend's here. You kind of need a vacation after a Vegas vacation, y'know? Lots and lots of walking, traffic, people, bells, whistles, post-midnight bedtimes, and frozen daiquiries in novelty glasses can wear a girl out, after several days.

When we pooped out from pounding the pavement, pulling up a park bench was often just as entertaining as the roulette wheel. I'm not sure why, but this is one of my fav photos from the week.


Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Bodies

NaBloPoMo #15

We checked out the BODIES exhibit while we were in Vegas. If you've not heard of this, it is, essentially, an exhibit full of cadavers, posed in different positions, and peeled open to portray different aspects of the human body. Pulmonary System, Nervous System, Digestive System, etc, were each portrayed with a number of, I guess, humans that had volunteered their bodies to art & science. There was also a series of cross-section slices of people. And display cases full of bits.

It's not normally the sort of thing you'd find me volunteering for, queasy thing that I am. I found it utterly fascinating; I loved it. I can't even pinpoint which display moved me the most. For some reason, I keep returning to a plackard that stated that there was no scientific explanation for the phenomenon of yawning. That we yawn for more oxygen is urban legend, I guess. The clean vs. smoker lung was fascinating, along with the garbage bin alongside, full of packs of cigarettes that people had ditched after seeing the exhibit.

I definitely walked away with this: Don't take your little kids to this exhibit!! At the end of the exhibit, there's a table for you to write your thought about the exhibit. I hovered around while parents of two small children looked over their approximately 5 year old boys writing down their thoughts. "Sad. scared. babies" read one little boy's entry. Yes, there was a baby room, with a warning telling you so, and offering another walkway to the next exhibit, if you find it disturbing.

I flipped through the book to read another entry, scrawled in childish handwriting:

"Someone needs to do something about this. Scary."

I can just imagine some little kid, thinking "For the love of God, someone needs to step in and stop this maddness!!!" while we adults browse through, fascinated and forcing ourselves not to touch the cadavers, as the signs tell us not to.

My overall take on the exhibit: Get a sitter and go see it.

If nothing else, I think you'll experience an urge to take better care of yourself, and start doing sit ups. As the sign on one cadaver said,

"It's never too late."

Las Vegas Motor Speedway: A Gift

NaBloPoMo #14

Clint surprised me yesterday, after making reservations weeks ago to do something I'd offhandedly mentioned was on my "list of things to do before I die": Ride in a veryvery fast car on a speedway.

He took a few lessons and got to drive the car himself, something I wasn't really capable of or interested in doing. I got to suit up and be a passenger, though, with a professional driver.

3 laps around the track at 160 mph, what a ride! Pix & details to come, here's a few to hold you over. Cheers!

Clint getting ready for his big driving debut.

Getting strapped in. Note the steering wheel is still on top of the car here.

Vrrooooooooooooooooom!

My turn in the car.

Taking off. Seconds before warp speed!

HooDoos

NaBloPoMo #13

On the way out to the Valley of Fire, yesterday, we noticed the highway and different areas lined with stacks of rocks. We were on the Moape Indian reservation, and my imagination ran amok with the possibilities of their significance. I asked one guy at the first stop we made, and he said "they mean nothing. People just do that."

Well. My wonderings of indian spiritual prayers were prematurely dashed. That's not very romantic.

Still, I couldn't believe that people would just pull over and stack rocks. There had to be an origin! The emperor has to be wearing some clothes here!

We stopped to ask a park ranger. After trying to convince us that they themselves place them there in memory of every tourist that was abducted from the park by aliens, he told us that they're actually called HooDoos.

The ranger was unsure of the origin, knew that it had been around a couple hundred years, but explained that with each rock you stack, you say a prayer. The higher your stack, the more likely your prayer is to be heard and wishes granted. They are, basically, indicative of fortune and good luck.



Ha! I knew there was some romantic spiritual connotation behind them.

High Five!

"But," the ranger went on, "we park rangers hate them."

Whuh?

He went on to tell us that though they do give folks inclined to spray paint rocks and carve their initials in them another avenue of expressing themselves, it's also one of the most frequently asked questions to the rangers, and they want folks to focus more on the petroglyphs, and the history of the park. There are bigger and better things to know there. They knock them down.

Awwwww.

Maybe the emporer really is wearing no clothes.

But at least he's got his spongebob boxers on.

Valley of Fire

NaBloPoMo #12

Got away from bells & whistles today, went to the Valley of Fire State Park, well-known for the ancient petroglyphs in the rocks there. LOVED the petroglyphs, will soon put up an album of the photos we took of them!

Happy Veteran's Day

NaBloPoMo #11

Before I left for Vegas on Thursday, I ran over to Lincoln Trails Elementary School in Mahomet for a very touching Veteran's Day Assembly. They meant to honor local veterans, and present me with a bit of a surprise.

One wagon full of beanie babies, that they'd collected.

WAIT! TEN wagons full of beanie babies, for a grand total of over 2100, that the children had collected during the month of October.

We listened then, through singing and readings of letters from children that had veterans in their family. One young man's great-great-great grandfather fought in the civil war. One's brother was a hero, he read, "because he signed up without even being asked." Children spoke of their Uncles, fathers, and mothers, while I sat hoping that my mascara wasn't running.

And today, Clint and I woke up and ran down the street to catch the Veteran's day parade here in Vegas. While we waited for the parade to start, I approached a few vets in the immediate area.

This guy served in the army from 1960 to 1980, and you won't believe this: He was stationed at the Reserve Center on Main Street, in Urbana, Illinois, from 1965 to 1966.



And I introduced myself to this man, who served in 1950, and asked him I could take my picture with him, to send to my son.



When we were done talking to him and taking our leave, he told me "thank you."

I had to pause only for a split second before I gave him a hug, and told him, "No. Thank You."

He's alive!

NaBloPoMo #10

Deep Fried Oreos

NaBloPoMo #9



Here's one form of debauchery that I won't be participating in, but Clint ate 6 of these things last night, for a grand total of $2.13

I've been so busy....

NaBloPoMo #8

I have honestly not had the time to tell you...



I'm on vacation.

For one. whole. week.

It's photo blogging til the 15th folks, I have to log off and get about some debaucher-izing.

Hope In a Jar

NaBloPoMo #7

Absolutely Bananas, at Absolutely Bananas (go figure) has started something new. We, women of a certain age (she's 22 for all I know. I just "met" her and agreed to play along with this splendid idea ::clap, clap, clap::). On the first day of the month, we REAL women are to make note of our REAL personal beauty secrets. I think the motive is to both educate and motivate. REAL women, REAL beautifying routines.

Since this is the first month, and we missed the first of the month, she's starting us on the 8th. From here on out, Hot Mama day will be on the first. Clear as mud. Just remember: After this, tune in on the first.

So. Today's the deadline, so here is my *official* first HMK (not to be confused with HNT).

I dragged my bff Diane, last month, into Sephora, for her first visit. Her first visit of the acres and acres of cosmetics, skin care, perfume, and surgical utensils meant to remove, pluck, file, and paint over issues we don't want the men in our lives to have any idea the existence of.

I don't have any money, you know, so I charged $78 on a 4-step kit of skin care, by Philosophy. Does this give you any idea of my desperate situation?

I actually bought a product called "Hope in a Jar."

What in the hell am I hoping?

I hope my skin won't be dry and skritchy this winter.

I hope it won't flake and crack.

I hope dark circles will disappear.

I hope to look like Cindy Crawford.

Yeah, when you hope to look like Cindy Crawford, it's time to graduate to the next product in the kit:

When Hope Is Not Enough.

It's a serum, ladies. Doesn't the word serum connotate visions of the fountain of youth? Serum. Potion. I look 10 years younger just thinking about this stuff.

You just spread this serum all over your face. [Gentlemen: I said serum, not semen. Nice try though.] Before or after the JarHope, I have not figured out. Just do it.

And when you're all done with the JarHope, and the SerumHope, you touch up your eyes and lips with TubeHope:


Hope in a Tube. It kind of sounds like something that requires an embryo and a petri dish, but no. It requires crows' feet. And not the kind on an actual bird.

Are you following me? At all?

There's also a cleanser in the kit, and a few samples of something called "The MicroDelivery Peel." Steps I and II. Roman Numerals.

I tried this peel, right in front of Clint. The first step requires you to spread some sugary, grainy, vitamin C, stuff all over your face. It has peptides in it.

The second step is "LookOut!" Step. The activator. STAND BACK! "An overall warming sensation will occur and a white foam will appear," the instructions read.

Before applying Step Two, I warned Clint: "You'd better take a good look, Baby, because after I put THIS stuff on, You will not. Recognize. Me."

God, how he laughed.

And when all was said and done, he still knew who I was.

So, does the stuff work?

Actually, I love it. I've always taken relatively good care of my skin, so I don't think it's just that I've introduced a regimen.

I think the Philosophy stuff was well worth the expense. $78 is a TON of money for me, but the bottles, jars, and tubes in the kit were full-sized, and will keep me in skin care for months ahead, even if I manage to stick to a disciplined daily use.

And, at least, if all else fails, at least they're not pushing a product called "No Hope."

There's always hope.

Even if it does come in a jar.

P.O. Blues

NaBloPoMo #6

"The Post Office Blues" is what you'd have had, if you'd been behind us today, on Mattis Avenue. No reservations, no appointments (we checked), we had no choice but to just show up with boxes.

And boxes.

Aaaaaaaaand more boxes.

Channel 3 was there. I interviewed with them on Saturday, feeling mighty and confident, only to get this feedback: "You acted nervous." Said feedback made me feel shy and embarrassed, so I sent Jeff to TV duty, this time. He was energetic, enthusiastic, and definitely the man for the job. I'd have been more nervous about not asking nervous.



For the record, it takes 2 hours for one postal clerk to check in, stamp, check customs forms, and calculate the cost of sending this many boxes. Sincere apologies to the guy behind us that wanted to buy one stamp, but had to wait for another window.

They're on their way.

Honorable Mentions

NaBloPoMo#5


I don't know why I continue to be amazed at the community (and nationwide) support, but you guys knock my socks off every time. Hundreds of you showed up in person and in spirit, and...geez! All I had to do was ask! I can't get over it.

There are a few that went above and beyond to make this event a success, and I have to mention them here.


Allen Strong, my friend and owner of Silvercreek restaurant. I asked Allen if I could schedule the greenhouse for this event, and he handed it over. He also donated the brats, buns, condiments, and sodas. He had staff on hand to set up tables, and hook up my slide show, and pretty much to race around and see that we were taken care of. He hired a musician, Barbara Hamilton, to play for 2 hours of the event. Do not overlook the word donated above. Allen didn't charge us a dime for all of this.

Allen's wife (and also my friend) Nancy Strong (pictured above with Craig Weidert) showed up with her camera, told me to put mine away, and said she'd see that the event was photographically documented. She proceeded to run around, and stand on chairs and make people smile, and then gave me a CD with 150 photos on it.

******

Urbana's Assistant Chief of Police, Patrick Connolly contacted me early on with offers of help. He spearheaded a drive at the city building. He and his daughter showed up early with boxes of boxes of supplies, and a couple of envelopes with funds collected to help alleviate shipping costs. He stood outside and directed people in, and carried boxes all evening, while his daughter, Kate, worked inside. Though I only met him in person Saturday, I can't imagine not having had him there, helping out.

******

The Illini Women's Basketball Team contacted me to ask what they could do to help. I can't quite explain what it was like to have them make their entrance, ducking under the doorway and appearing in their sweats, ready to work. Work they did; they filled out address forms, wrote letters, and took their post at the end of our assembly line, sealing and labeling boxes. They gave autographs and posters to the kids, and we put glossies of the team into the boxes. It was a blast having them there.

******

Champaign Taste blogger Lisa Morgan put our cause on the Human Kinetics intranet, and worked with the warehouse there to save our boxes for us. Boxes might not seem like a big deal, but when you're looking for 100 boxes that meet postal standards of L x W x H of more than 84 but less than 108 inches, the friend that can supply them to you x infinity is quite valuable! Human Kinetics has come to my rescue on more than one occasion, going so far as to tear down the boxes and wheel them to my car for me.

******

And last but not least, volunteer Jesse Kurylo, showed up a second time to help us out. She was also at the spaghetti dinner. A National Guards(wo)man that was forced to stay home with a knee injury while her comrades were deployed, she says "I can't do nothing while my friends are over there." She showed up early and immediately set about making brilliant decisions while I stood around daftly saying "we hadn't thought this part through yet..." She is a whirlwind, and, I told her, should be paid to volunteer! She left our event to go work at another event. Voluntarily.

I wish I had time to name every single person that helped out, because every effort is worth mentioning. I met a lot of people I've corresponded with via e-mail. I hugged old friends and new ones, and appreciated every single person that showed up, some just to squeeze my hand and say "good luck," before moving on with their day. I appreciate the well wishes and e-mails that rolled in before the event, and so many that came in today, asking "how'd it go?!!"

As I said, I'm not sure why you surprise me. I just love that you bother.

And I'm sure, so will 100 more, in a few weeks when these packages arrive to their final destination.

******

If you'd like to see all of the photos Nancy took on Saturday night, click here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/toysfortroops/sets/72157602950288730/

Success

NaBloPoMo#4

Sunday evening, 11:15. Dead on my feet right now, but have to at least let you know: The TFT Care Package Event was a HUGE success.

We worried, that we'd not have enough to fill our boxes. We might have to shop, on Monday, we thought, to pick up the slack, and make sure we mailed something to everyone.

The event started at 4:00.

Donations began rolling in around 2:30.

People began showing up around 3:30.

By 4:30, it was standing room only.

By 5:30, we'd packed twice what we needed. TWO boxes for every soldier, kids. And leftovers enough to fill 1/2 a trailer.

So today was filled with filling out more customs forms, creating another set of address labels, sorting through leftovers, brainstorming for the Christmas event, updating mailing addresses, and making sure every letter got packed and on it's way.

Details and a photo gallery to come.

And I hope this doesn't get old:

Thank you.

Today's the Day

NaBloPoMo #3



Today's the Big Day:

The Thanksgiving Brats Cookout, Potluck, and Care Package-Packing Extravaganza for Toys for Troops.

I'm so nervous. I'm so excited. 4:00 to 8:00, tonight, it is, at Silvercreek Greenhouse.

We still don't know what to expect, as far as the turnout. I do know that girl scouts, and the Illini Women's basketball team, and soldier's families, and chiefs of police and other friends and family are coming.

• We'll have Clint's covered trailer as a "mobile office" and a 10-foot flag to hang on it.
• We have a slide show featuring the soldiers on our mailing list.
• We'll have a S.W.A.K. booth, with postcards, lipstick and instant photo printers. Write a letter and throw it in a soldier's box.
• We'll have a few tents.
• I have a shiny new t-shirt that says "proud army mom."
• We have live music, Barbara Hamilton will be playing guitar and singing the blues.
• We'll have brats, and potluck dishes, and soda.

I'll be happy to come together for this cause with either 40 or 400.



I just hope they know, I hope they understand how much we care.

We'll do everything we can to make them understand.

Wish us luck!

Here are but a few, on our list:

Clifton Goble, his wife and daughter in the corner photo.

Jennifer Kraus, from Champaign

Jolley and a dog

Kate Finney, from Champaign

And a few more that appreciate them also:

Peace.

Brian's 16th Bday Card

NaBloPoMo #2

I can't believe that I actually used to design all of my own cards. Birthday cards, Christmas cards, cartoon cards depicting some humorous event or inside joke I'd shared with a friend. I used to imagine that someday, when the kid was grown, and I had allllllll this spare time on my hands, that I might make a go at designing cards.

Most of my best friends will attest to the fact that I haven't even found time to hit up the hallmark store for their birthdays, these days. I SUCK, people.

I'll get it together one of these days. In the meantime, I'll share with you the card I made for Brian, when he turned 16.

The inside read "I can't believe my baby's 16."

Promotion: Brian Update

NaBloPoMo #1

As of today, Brian has been promoted from PFC (Private First Class) to

SPC JOLLEY, BRIAN

Specialist.

I haven't written about him that much, since he went back to Iraq. Truth is, I don't have a lot of new news. I encouraged him to write more often, if all he could do was reassure me that he's ok. He's done just that: an email every couple of days saying "I'm ok. I have to sleep."

In 2-3 sentences, we connect. I can appreciate that Viet Nam mothers could only have prayed for so much. I thank my lucky stars we live in the era that we do.

The truth is, I worry about him, pray for him. every. single. day.

But since I've seen him, in August, I've felt slightly better. Slightly, people. I beg for a little slack here. Many of you don't know that I've taken hits, publicly and privately. I've been accused of having a political agenda, and I've been called naive. The words "tragically sincere" finally amused, offended, and, after some thought, complimented me. I know this: I hope I'm never anything but.

At any rate, if I tell you I feel slightly more secure, I beg of you, anonymous commenters and e-mailers, do not send me reminders of what might happen to my son in Iraq, believing I have no idea.

I, as every other parent of a soldier, wear "what might happen" every single day, and I don't know that we ever won't, when this country is at war. Sons home or sons deployed, we will wear this, from here on out. Slightly more secure means that my son is, at this moment, ok. I've talked to him. I've touched him. I've hugged him, and grabbed his cheeks, and looked into his eyes. He has the same sense of humor, the same sense of pride, and dignity, and confidence, as he did before he left. If anything, he's more so, what he was.

From here on out, I'll be a soldier's Mom. I stepped into the recruiting office today, on my lunch hour. Can I get a few chotchke's for the fundraiser this weekend? While the adorable soldier ran for keychains and pens, I stood in his office, watching another young man and woman, in army fatigues, going about their work.

People, it takes every fiber of my being not go up and wrap them in my arms.

Yes.

I have turned into the crazy lady in the mall that asks if she can hold your baby, only I just want to race up and hug everyone in fatigues. It absolutely kills me to stand graciously outside that office, and act unaffected.

In reality, I want to settle in. I want to sit right down, and cluck-cluck-cluck, like a mother hen. I want to reach out and pet grown men and women on their little heads, and fix them spaghetti, and I, kids...

Well. Kids... My son is serving in Iraq. He was driving this humvee, when this happened...

He called it a "Thank you Jesus Moment."

Can you stop.

For one second.

And Imagine.

Close your eyes, and imagine.






It is only 1 of 100s of photos he brought home.

You don't have to remind me.

I know.

And you know what?

My son got PROMOTED today, and I am BURSTING with pride.

And I believe in him.

And I feel slightly more secure.

Give me that.

Please. Give me that.