Heroes, Librarians & Class

This article regarding the pilot, Sully Sullenberger, who flew the plane that crashed into the Hudson river a few weeks ago, made me (as a librarian in training) very, very happy.

Just When Your Faith In Humanity Was Just About Shot...

I have to admit upfront that I am a crier. Movies, TV shows, books, commercials even. Doesn't matter the format, I've cried tears of sorrow, happiness or sentimentality more times than I care to admit. I did it again this morning when I read this article. Since I'm at one end of the spectrum, I can't guarantee that you'll all have the same reaction, but I'd be willing to bet that at the very least you'll "get something in your eye" as TLS likes to say.

(Hat tip to my cousin, Brittany, for the link.)

Things I Am Thankful For (Or, Alternately, Things For Which I Am Thankful...If You Are Picky About Your Grammar)

A partial list:

1. My loving husband, TLS, who (in the words of the movie Juno, which I have watched far too much of lately) is the cheese to my macaroni.
2. My friends and family. 'nuff said.
3. The good ol' US of A
4. My job (not always my favorite place to be, but it sure helps keep the heat on, the cars in gas, and food on the table)
5. My overall good health
6. Blue skies, crisp weather and the smell of wood smoke

Head cold is progressing nicely into a lovely productive cough, right on schedule. I figure that I should feel really great just about the time that my Thanksgiving holiday is over. Ah well, things could be worse and I guess there is some irony in bemoaning something so inconsequential in a thanksgiving post.

I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday.

Happy Anniversary, TLS!

So, much like my Valentine's Day post, this one isn't really for anyone else but my dear, sweet TLS. To borrow my disclaimer from the last time, there shall be no eye-rolling here today. If you sense an eye roll coming on, feel free to whip on over to CNN or your local news organization's website for some extremely non-mushy fare.

Fourteen years ago today, TLS and I promised to love, honor and cherish each other til death do us part. And with the exception of his "I do-ing" when he should have "I will-ed" and vice versa, the day went off without a hitch* and things have been pretty wonderful since then as well. Can't complain.

TLS, thanks for being the ol' spousal unit! I can't wait to see what the next fourteen years have in store for us.

* Very funny wedding related story that I love to tell. We got married in my hometown, which was not the town that we were living in at the time (or come to think of it the town in which we've ever lived together). We knew that based on the lateness of our ceremony and reception that we'd have to spend the night in a local hotel before heading out of town the next morning. About a month before the big day, I picked out the hotel nearest the airport, a Radisson (for no apparent reason, since we were driving rather than flying back home), gave TLS the phone number, and watched him make the reservation.

Flash forward to the day of the wedding. TLS called me that morning and said that he wanted to go ahead and check in with our stuff, so he was going to call over and confirm that he could do that in the next couple of hours. We also made plans for me to leave my suitcase in the front foyer of my mom's house with the door unlocked so we wouldn't jinx things by seeing each other before the wedding. I offered to get him the number for the hotel, but he said he had it under control. He called back about 10 minutes later and he was FURIOUS! Fury is not an emotion that I get to see often on my husband. He is generally a calm and patient man. Mostly I'm the one losing my mind and he's the one placidly standing by to make sure I don't zing off into the stratosphere. So this little develoment was somewhat unsettling. I asked what he was so upset about and he said something along these lines, "I. cannot. believe. they. LOST. OUR. RESERVATION!!!!!" There was also much talk about how someone, somewhere had his credit card number and what were they going to do about it. I made sympathetic noises and he said that they had assured him that they had a room for us and that he could check in immediately.

Flash ahead to the post-ceremony photography session. We planted ourselved at the front of the altar and everyone else came and went according to which shot was being taken at the time. During one of the down moments when we were waiting for the next set of relatives to "come on down", I said to TLS , "I can't believe the Radisson lost our reservation." He turned to me with an odd expression and said, "The Radisson, we're staying at The Harvey!"

Group Hugs and Barely Controlled Chaos

Today is a bittersweet day as it was my last day to read to the preschoolers before they are out of school. We read Green Eggs and Ham, Five Little Monkeys, and (my mom will be so proud) Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

The kids were literally all over the place. (I had one trying to climb in my lap, one little boy poking a little girl in the leg with his index finger, and one girl trying to show me--repeatedly--her new Disney Princess watch. It was pretty much chaos. Nothing controlled about it, but it was also wonderful to get the expected giant group hug and the chanted "Thank you, miss!"

It's going to be a loooong summer, I'm afraid.

A Belated Mother's Day Homage

I needed a blank notecard a few weeks ago. I don't remember exactly why but there was some occasion that necessitated a blank space to write a quick "thank you" or a "hope you are well". So off I went to the shelf of random useful stuff. In addition to a small sewing kit and a silver plated ice bucket (Hey, you never know when you might have a champagne chilling emergency!), it contains a box of random cards. I have Hallmark cards I've bought without a specific use just because they made me laugh. I have a whole slew of animal-themed cards. (You know, one of those packs of twenty-five cards that have a few birthday cards with pictures of zoo animals, a few get well soons with a picture of a particularly mournful turtle and ones with blank insides. They are exceedingly cheesy, but have saved my bacon on more than one occasion when I hadn't planned well enough in advance for a birthday.) While rummaging in the deep, dark recesses of the box, I pulled out a ziplock baggie with a few cards of the 3x5 variety. Inside the bag was a note from my maternal grandmother--just a simple greeting in her distinctive handwriting--telling me that she found these cards with drawings of cats on them and decided to send them to me. (I am a great lover of cats, whether of the live or decorative variety, which anyone who knows me well can attest.) It was almost as if I'd stumbled upon a tiny little time machine--a way back to an era when my grandma was alive and well and sending me little gifts for no reason at all. You see, my grandma passed away in April of 2003 from a recurrance of breast cancer. I miss her dearly still.

Oh sure, I don't think about her every day, but certain items or events will bring her back to me with a startling clarity--a certain phrase of music, the scent of the perfume Shalimar, a piece of her jewelry, or even handwriting that resembles hers. It's then that I miss her with an almost physical pain, this petite dynamo, this fierce proponent of her (intelligent and multi-talented) children and grandchildren, this volunteer deluxe. I had a brief moment, sitting with the the note in my hand and the plastic sack full of cat cards in my lap, where I wondered if it really was a message from her. If she had somehow sent me on a course toward it, knowing that I'd find a welcoming presence there. I don't claim to know the intricacies of the universe, but I do know that the whole thing left me in a warm, sweet, blissful state, so I guess it doesn't matter one way or another exactly how I arrived there.

I was reminded of this serendipity on Mother's Day. This is a day, of course, where we think about and honor our mothers and grandmothers, but it is also a day that brings with it some pretty heavy baggage for an infertile person. It is one of those days when it is glaringly obvious that you don't have a descendent to call your own. That someday, when your own mother is gone (God forbid), there won't be a reason to celebrate at all and no one to celebrate you. The whole event has a tendency to take on a none too maudlin aspect so it was good this year to spend time with each of our mothers as well as to remember all four of our grandmothers, who have passed on before us. And I was able to think of the children in our lives (niece, nephews, and those children of friends who call us "aunt" and "uncle") and while I may not be related to them by blood, I am fairly sure that I am (and will continue to be) a positive, welcome influence in their lives. I can only hope that someday, in the far, far future, that one of them might find a distantly written note of mine and think of me fondly and wish I were still around.

R.I.P. Pete

Sorry for the blog blackout the last week or so. I didn't really have much to say at the end of last week and then had a busy weekend making the rounds of our mothers' houses to celebrate Mother's Day. Monday and Tuesday brought the workload slam and then on Wednesday we had some tragedy with one of our dogs and yesterday I was pretty much out of commission mentally. (I am still planning on doing a much belated Mother's Day post but it will have to be at a later date. Stay tuned.)

I won't go into any of the gory details but we came home on Wednesday after work to one of our neighbors waiting in our driveway. She explained that Pete had been injured and that another neighbor had taken him to the vet. We were, as you might imagine, stunned and went inside to listen to the messages from the police (who had been called out to our house because of Pete) and the vet's office. (The one from the vet's office really irritated the bejeezus out of me because it was basically, call us back asap so we can start emergency treatment. Hello! This is the home number on a Wednesday, WE'RE AT WORK AND WON'T BE HOME UNTIL AFTER 6.) By the time we got home, the vet's office was closed. We tried the emergency pager number but couldn't get anyone to call us back (don't EVEN get me started on this) so we spent the evening and much of a sleepless night with images of our neighbor's description of the situation bouncing around in our heads, bumping up against the worry about the possibilities about the reality of the situation. We had a discussion about what our next step should be and decided that based on our understanding of the severity of his injuries, we would probably have to make the call to have him euthanized. When I say "we" I really mean TLS, because he truly is The Doer of Dirty Deeds around our house. I think I'm fairly good to have around in a crisis, but when the actual crisis is past (as it was from the very first minute we arrived), I am a blubbering wreck. I went off to work yesterday morning leaving TLS as the official decision maker. (Thank God that he had to make the phone call to the vet and not me, because as I said earlier: me=blubbering wreck.) Needless to say, euthanization was the right, but difficult, call. Afterward, TLS brought him home and buried him under the huge sycamore tree in our front yard next to our first cat, Boo. He has his own stone marker and is hopefully enjoying his time racing over the rainbow bridge and barking at motorcyclists to his heart's content.

Rest in peace, Pete. We will miss you.

And From The (Awfully Small) Good News File...

I have to say that I was mightily irritated more than one time during the commute in this morning. People were driving like total idiots--tailgating , DART buses coming over into my lane like the big yellow bullies they are, and people driving the wrong way in the parking garage just so they wouldn't have to go 20 seconds out of their way. I figured that making me believe in the goodness of mankind today was an impossible task. However, it turns out that I was wrong. All it took was reading one article in The New York Times.

During a college softball game between Western Oregon and Central Washington, one of the Western Oregon players hit the very first homerun in her entire life. It should have been a three-run over-the-fence homer, but after failing to touch first base, she had to return to touch the bag. During her turn, her leg buckled underneath her due to a probable torn ACL, and she crawled to the bag in tears. None of her teammates could touch her since that would mean she wouldn't be able to legally advance to the next base. The umpires huddled and determined that the two other runners on base would score but if she was unable to continue, she would only be credited with a single. At that moment, the Central Washington first basemen (baseperson?) asked if it would be alright if she and another Washington teammate carried the other player around and she touched the bases. More conferring from the umpires and it was determined that it was legal. The two Washington players cradled the Oregon player around the bases to score her homerun. Western Oregon won that game and also the next game in the doubleheader, but something tells me that everyone who witnessed that game was the true winner. So classy.

A Happy News Item, For Once

Apparently it's feast or famine over here at Misadventures...

TLS and I heard a piece on the radio this morning about a pediatric oncology patient who had his portable game player and games stolen from the family's car during a stop on their way to the hospital for his monthly chemotherapy appointment. They reported the burglary to police but didn't expect much to come from it. You know, what with big city apathy and all that. Well, it turns out that officers from the Dallas Police Department donated $1,200 to replace the belongings and have the car window repaired (with about $850 given to the family for anything else they might need). How's that for a feel-good story?

Link to DMN article for more details.

Happy Valentine's Day, TLS. This post's for you.

As mentioned in the title, this post is an open letter to my dear, sweet husband. Feel free to read along, although groaning and/or eye-rolling will neither be allowed nor tolerated. If you don't like my sappy, emotional sentiments, go and surf some CNN. (This means you, too, TLS! - ha!)

Happy Valentine's Day, TLS. Who knew all those many years ago that a shared sense of the absurd and a love for all things sci-fi would be the foundation of a beautiful long-term relationship? (Almost seventeen years and counting.) While your movie star good looks might have been what initially attracted me, your intelligence, wit, kindness and depth of spirit, and generosity are what made me stay. Oh, and the good looks haven't been a hindrance there, either. (rawr!)

Thank you for who you are and the things you do for me. I can't imagine that scooping kitty litter was ever in your ultimate Bucket List, but you do it just the same. You keep the cars running and the yard mowed. You indulge my decorating whims and take out the trash. You make me laugh on a daily basis. You are a friend and a soul-mate--someone who has shared good times and bad.

When we were standing at the altar, repeating the vows "in sickness and in health...", the sickness seemed to be so far away as to be impossible, but somehow it found us. Often tough times push couples apart, be somehow we managed to come closer. I have a feeling that our use of humor and contant laughter has had something to do with it. And even if my theory is complete and utter malarky, at least we've had fun laughing at our own foibles. (And the strange, strange ways of the world.)

I simply cannot imagine my life without you. Wherever I would have ended up and whoever I turned out to be, wouldn't have been nearly as good or as much fun.

I love you, husband. Here's to many more years together.