Feeling like a kid on my birthday

For as long as I can remember, I've loved telling people my birthday.

Short of putting it on a billboard (or on a banner behind a small airplane), I make sure I announce its arrival to everyone I know.

Honestly, I'm not looking for gifts. I'm not even expecting cards. (Baked goods maybe.)

But when August 15th rolls around, I simply want friends to stop and think, "Oh, yea! Today is Nancy's birthday." 

My constant reminding has paid off. 

Most of my friends can tell you my birthday without hesitation. Even friends I haven't seen in years can recall the date.

And, even if they don't call or write, I know when I wake up on my birthday, they are thinking of me.

That's all I've ever wanted.

Until this year.

This year, I'll admit I was hoping for something.

Expecting rather.

When I turned on my phone first thing in the morning, I anxiously went to Facebook.

Surely some night owl, well-wisher had posted "Happy Birthday!" at 12:01 a.m. and I couldn't wait to read it as well as all the other messages that I envisioned flooding in.

But, not one message.

Suddenly, I felt like a disappointed kid. Childhood memories of being unpopular came to mind.

Everybody gets Facebook Birthday messages. Why not me?

The feelings of my 10-year-old self didn't feel good.  I much prefer the feelings of my grown-up self who just imagines people remembering my birthday!

An hour went by and I checked again.

Still, nothing.

Since I was visiting a friend, I felt rude constantly checking my phone but I couldn't resist.

Finally, my friend asked, "Nancy, why don't you have your birthday posted on your Facebook page?"

Like a kid, I rushed to check my settings.

Wrong!

Like a mother who has no idea how to do anything on my phone, I texted my son for help.

When he didn't respond fast enough, that's when, like a kid, I quickly went to my settings.

My hands were almost shaking in my haste. My friend pointed out the lock icon on my birthday.

That's it! My birthday wasn't "public."

Then I remembered.

Like an adult, I decided not to post my birthday when I set up my Facebook page for fear someone would steal my identity.

But, to heck with my identity, I wanted my Facebook birthday messages so I quickly corrected it.

Within minutes, my first two Birthday wishes appeared (thanks Travis and Shelley).

As the day went on, more and more wishes popped up (thanks Mark Zuckerberg and all of my wonderful Facebook friends).

Next year, I hope I can act my age. Maybe I'll wait until the end of the day to read my wishes all at one time.

Or maybe, I'll delete my birthday all together and enjoy my birthday wishes in my imagination.

Then again, maybe I'll stare at my phone all day and go one step further and compare the number of "Birthday wishes" I get with someone else on Facebook who has more than me and sulk like a kid.

Sure hope not.

Where oh where are my birthday messages?
Oh where oh where can they be?

The Art of Doing Nothing

Years ago, my husband gave me a small gift book entitled, "The Art of Doing Nothing."

When I read the cover, I smiled but felt a bit confused given the fact that I epitomized the title.

In fact, I could have written it.

When I opened the book, I saw words.  Lots and lots of words. The mere sight of chapter after chapter explaining how to "do nothing" caused me to close the book and never open it again.

Don't get me wrong. I love the book and the fact that it reminded him of me.

To this day, I like seeing it sitting there looking cute on the end table in our sunroom.

But, a book about doing nothing should simply have short phrases. Blank pages, maybe. Perhaps, just pictures of people doing nothing. Clearly, not long explanations about how to do it.

It's just not that complicated.

But then again, maybe it is for people who aren't experts like me.

So many people have a problem with doing nothing. They feel bored or guilty sitting around not accomplishing anything.

They are the types that simply, "have to be doing something."

I, on the other hand, am excellent at sitting quietly doing nothing.

Sure, my brain is still working.

Well, sometimes.

As I sit silently, I think about what I need at the grocery store. Or, ponder what I should be doing.

Other times, I look out the window and find it amusing how much green I see or stare at my dog and admire how cute he is.

Occasionally, I start planning my daughter's wedding (even though she isn't currently dating anyone) or I reminisce about how much fun we had at the beach at the beginning of the summer.

But, sometimes, I simply sit.

I suppose you could call it an art.

But, really it's nothing.

You are the cutest dog in the whole wide world!
and
To my dear husband, thank you for not giving me the book,
"Get up and do something, why don't ya?

To market, to market to find a big smile

The other day when I stepped out of my air-conditioned car, I actually made note of my face. It was ugly and contorted. I felt it.

I groaned out loud in response to the heat as I walked toward the grocery store.

I'm sure I looked miserable. After all, the heat index was triple digits.

As I approached the store with my grumpy face, I noticed a lady coming toward me.

She was a kind looking lady, about 85 years old, pushing her cart toward her car in the scorching heat.

The look on her face was nothing like mine. She wore the most beautiful smile.

I stopped and said, "You sure have a lovely smile today."

She lifted her hand to the sky and said, "Well, the sun is shining."

All the while, she smiled.

In a moment, my scrunched up face turned into a happy one.

With a smile in return, I replied, "It certainly is. That's a good way of looking at it."

Little did I know that I would go to the grocery on the hottest day of the year and return home with much more than food for dinner.

A stranger reminded me to take note of the gifts before me even when they are hard to recognize.  All from one simple smile.

Pass it on.

Let me see.. bananas, Cheerios, bread and smiles!

Love Locked Forever

When I heard the news that the "love locks" on the Pont de Arts bridge in Paris were being taken down, I suddenly got the old Salem cigarette jingle stuck in my head.

"You can take Salem out of the country but... you can't take the country out of Salem."

I haven't seen the ad in more than 40 years but the catchy tune still pops in my mind and  reminds of scenes of my youth.

I knew smoking was bad so I understood why they needed to stop airing the ads but I loved that commercial.

When it played, I used to dance around our small family room singing along, "You can take Salem out of the country... but," and on cue, a play on words, I would pop my hip out, freeze and wait for my family to laugh.

They never disappointed me.

My father was a Salem smoker and the memory of that commercial reminds me of him sitting in his chair having conversations with my grandfather on Sunday afternoons.

I can picture the way he sat with one leg crossed over the other with his elbow on the arm rest holding his Salem up in the air.

Just as the Salem ads disappeared, so now have the locks on the Paris bridge.

City officials realized the weight of the locks, a reported 45 tons, was endangering the integrity of the bridge.

And, just as I had understood the removal of the cigarette ads, I understand the Paris officials need to take down the locks for safety's sake.

However, like my special memories of that Salem jingle, they can never take away the memorable experiences I had on that bridge.

Two years ago, I visited Paris for the first time with my daughter. It was the mother-daughter trip of a lifetime.

After the grueling overnight flight and some difficulty getting out of the airport, we finally arrived in our hotel room.

She unpacked a yellow, padded envelope and handed it to me.

"Dad asked me to give this to you, " she said.

I reached inside and pulled out a beautiful hand-painted lock. Carefully written in red, were the words, "BT LOVES NT" and "SOULMATE" meticulously printed next to the key. It was a complete surprise.

He had decorated it with pink and purple heart stickers on one side and a red, dazzling heart on the other.

Along with the lock was a hand-written, heart-felt card. The kind of love note any girl would want to get from her fella.

My daughter and I both teared up.

We waited for the perfect sunny day to place the lock on the bridge.

We painstakingly searched for just the right spot for the lock. We admired it for a long time and took pictures from every angle.

On our last day in the city, we walked back to the Pont de Arts to visit the sweet lock one more time but just looking at it wasn't enough.

She insisted that I kiss the lock for a photo opportunity.

I felt ridiculous as I stooped to kiss the lock. I felt even more ridiculous when I lost my footing and toppled over.

We laughed until we cried at the embarrassing spectacle.

I feel incredibly fortunate that I returned to Paris with my husband later that year. I couldn't wait to visit the bridge.

As we slowly walked across the bridge searching for our lock, he surprisingly spotted it first.

The pretty, hand painted lock that he had made especially for me wasn't shiny and new anymore.

However, it looked solid and well-loved with at least five other smaller "love locks" attached to it.

Now, like the old Salem ads, my lock has disappeared forever but the memories of love, laughter and tears on the Pont de Arts bridge are forever mine.

You can take down my love lock on the Pont de Arts bridge but...
you can't take away all my memories!

Special Delivery on Mother's Day

To my dear mother in heaven,

Today is Mother's Day and as I go through the day, I am reminded of all the valuable lessons you taught me.

No matter how many years have passed, your presence is with me every day and your lessons have made me the mother that I am.  For all that you taught me, I am grateful.

Here's just a short list of what I am thankful for...

Thank you for putting up with my bizarre behavior when I tried on clothes in the dressing room at White's department store. I appreciate you searching for straight pins on the floor to pin the curtain closed so no one could see me trying on clothes.

Because of you, I learned to tolerate the little idiosyncrasies of my own children.

Thank you for not making me feel bad about the "D" I made in science on my report card in the fifth grade. I already felt bad enough. The teacher was right, I didn't like engines. And honestly, I was far more concerned with the bee that was buzzing around the classroom.

Because of you, I tried hard to take the pressure off of my children as they strived to make good grades.

Thank you for immediately calling the school when I told you the gym teacher had smacked me with a paddle because I didn't change into my gym suit fast enough.

Because of you, I had the courage to approach several teachers and a couple of principals in my day in support of my own children.

Thank you for teaching me that a look is worth a thousand words.

Because of you, I spared my voice while raising my children with that same simple stare.

Thank you for using the phrase, "This too shall pass."

Because of you, whenever I'm experiencing a difficult time, I repeat the phrase to myself and before I know it whatever I was worrying about has become a distant memory.  I've used the phrase countless times when my own children have gone through trying times.

Thank you for reminding my sister as you taught her to drive that when stopped at the stop sign to simply wait and be patient because "there's always a place."

Because of you, I've repeated that line over and over again to myself and to my children. The reminder comes in handy especially when some jerk is waiting impatiently behind us.

Thank you for not making me go to the final swim class that summer. I appreciate you noticing something was wrong and asking me about it. I was embarrassed that I was afraid of the deep water and would have to sit on the side of the shallow end of the pool while all the other kids showed off their diving skills to their parents.

Because of you, I recognized when my children were bothered by something and allowed them to skip things that were unimportant.

Thank you for not making me do household things before I had to.

You were right. I've had "plenty of time" to do laundry, cook and clean the house.

Thank you for your lessons, your sayings and your amazing heart and spirit.

Happy Mother's Day to the mother who in just eleven years made a mark that has lasted my entire life time.

Like mother, like daughter. I sure hope so.

Air mail to my mom!

Flying high

I never thought I'd smile at the sight of a fly.

A dragonfly, maybe. Definitely a butterfly. But, not at a common housefly.

That changed yesterday.

As I looked out my bathroom window, I saw the sun shining. I saw a yard full of grass with a only few remaining mounds of dirt-riddled snow.

And then I saw something even more exciting.

There upon the window pane sat a good, old-fashioned, dirty housefly.

The first fly of the season sitting on my window basking in the sun and warmer temperature.

I smiled. I actually smiled at a fly.

Oddly, I feel rather like the fly. I'm ready to emerge from the winter dull-drums and delight in the warmth of the sun.

Spring really is coming.

Surely, I will curse that same fly in a few weeks when he's buzzing around with his pesky, little friends welcoming the season.

But for now, I will smile at a fly and sing, hip hip hooray! Spring is actually headed our way.

Window is larger than it appears. The fly is actual size.