August 1, 2006, 4:12 pm
My 5-year-old daughter recently moved up a level in her preschool swim lessons at the YMCA. She's now a "Ray" and has made the move into the big (colder, deeper) pool. I was worried they might have moved her too quickly, but figured they knew what they were doing. And, she had made incredible progress in the last few sessions.

Surely, I thought, they still use float blocks (those styrofoam blocks they strap to the child's back to keep them afloat) in the big pool, right?

Um, no.

And they don't even stay in the shallow side of the big pool.

There they were on the first day lined up at the deep end of the big pool preparing to jump in and swim. Out of genuine shock, I gasped and said to my running friend Sandy (whose son is also in the class) "Oh My God. They're not going to... they're not going to just jump in there are they? No floats ... no noodles ... no instructors' arms to catch them? Oh. My. God."

(I should mention here that I'm not one of those overprotective mothers -- all of my friends will vouch for that. Some may even say my parenting style is a little too laid back and I make them nervous when I let my kids do things that cause them to cringe).

Back to the pool where the sweat is trickling down my brow -- not just because it's 112 degrees in there, but because my body is going into full Mamma-bear mode.

My curly-headed 3 1/2-foot-tall baby girl is standing there with her goggles on preparing to jump into 7 feet of water.

I couldn't watch.

But, I couldn't look away.

I put down the beach towels and calculated the time it would take me to race to the other end of the pool and save my baby from the bottom of it.

She's next. My heart is racing. I say a silent prayer thanking God that I'm a runner and a strong swimmer.

1...2...3...

Splash!

I am off the bench and in motion when she pops up and swims -- actually swims -- all on her own to the ladder (not the first ladder, but the one half way down the pool). She climbs out with a big grin on her face and waves to me.

I try to play it cool and pretend I was actually getting up to check on her younger sister (who was in class in the small pool), and I wave back.

I sit back down and Sandy said "It's a good thing we don't have to teach them to swim. We could never let them do that. They'd be wearing float blocks until they're 12."

So true.

I'm thankful for the young YMCA swim instructors who have no qualms about giving young children the freedom they need to find their inner-fish.

Lord knows I'd have those kids in float blocks and swim wings until they were 15.

August 3, 2006, 4:11 pm
I'm having one of those days -- you know the kind of day that starts off with opening up a nearly-done 36-page magazine to find that all the images have mysteriously disappeared overnight.

More mini-disasters followed -- a few computer crashes, tedious tasks that HAD to be taken care of immediately and then, the inability to print the aformentioned magazine on any of the 1,532 printers in the building -- despite the 8 computer guys trying to "help."

My morning culminated with that most humiliating of female office frustration relief — tears.

God, how I hate to cry at work. But, I'm a girl and sometimes i just can't help it. I work in a deadline-driven environment and sometimes the pressure is just too much.

Frustration mounts and aggravation builds and the tears begin to well up. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop it once it's started. The tears spill out -- where else are they to go?

I've decided that maybe it's a good thing -- it always makes me feel better and, really, it's better than throwing a mantrum (man tantrum) like some grown men here do when things aren't going their way.

Still....there is some part of me that feels like an overgrown four-year-old when it happens. Like some silly little girl who can't handle the real world.

Or, maybe I'm just an overextended, overly-tired overachiever who needs a vacation.

And a box of Kleenex.

And another copyeditor.

And a printer that works.

And a raise.

That's all I need.

August 4, 2006, 12:01 am

Paint me black and gold and wrap me in terrible towels -- I'm headed back to Heinz Field to see Big Ben and the boys!

Yesterday's bad day turned damn good when I got home, made a stiff drink and opened the mail to find four Steelers tickets -- two tickets to game one (preseason) and two tickets to game 7 (Nov. 12 vs. the Saints).

I slammed open the screen door and raced out to the pool where hubby was swimming with the girls.

Dan. Dan. Dan. Dan. Dan. (Dan's been swimming to much and is half-deaf from all the water in his ears).

Steelers. Tickets.

We got Steelers tickets!

If you remember back in March, I told you that it was time to send your checks to the Steelers for your chance to win single-game tickets. This is the only way they sell tickets to the public (non season-ticket holders). You don't get to pick what game you want or where your seats are located -- you just send in your money (checks only) & hope for the best. With the ticket prices set at $55 each, I figured we had nothing to lose -- even the nosebleeds are worth $55.

Which is exactly where we'll be sitting -- in the upper level -- row GG.

We joked that we were going to need one of the viewers they have at Dobbin's Landing and Niagara Falls just to see the field. But, really, what does it matter? We're paying for the atmosphere. For the experience.

For the sheer fun of sitting in a stadium full of 65,000 other people painted black-and-gold and twirling terrible towels.

It's been six years since my sister-in-law Mary Grace lost her battle with ovarian cancer. Today, is the anniversary of her death. And, so I think about her today, of course.

But, really, it's not different than almost every day of my life since that awful hot August day in 2000, standing by that ugly hospital bed in her living room, squeezing her hand, hoping she knew it was me saying goodbye. She's never far from my thoughts. I miss her terribly and hope that wherever she is she misses me, too.

It's selfish, I suppose. To think only about me and my loss. I am one of many who miss Mary Grace. She left behind two children, a husband (my brother) and a HUGE family and legion of friends.

Her daughter, Eliza, was just 4 years old when Grace died.

Shortly after the funeral, a coworker said to me "Well, thank God your brother has Eliza to keep him going."

And it was ironic because I had just been wondering why God would've brought Eliza into this world (Grace was almost 40 when she had Eliza) if he was going to take her mother away. I, in my grief, thought it was especially cruel to give us this gift -- this beautiful dark-eyed princess -- and then take her mother away. What the hell was the point anyway?

This led me to question whether -- knowing what I know now, knowing how all of this is going to end, would I have chosen not to have had Grace in my life? Knowing that I would only have 10 years with her and that she would leave in a horrible, painful, heart-breaking way -- do I wish I had never known her?

Not a chance.

I was blessed to have had her in my life (even if it was about 35 years too short).

Her death changed my life forever. I've never been the same and I never will be again.

And maybe that's the point.

August 8, 2006, 12:01 am

I rarely eat out for two reasons.

1.) I'm cheap and I hate paying $10 for spaghetti when I know I can buy a box of noodles and a jar of sauce for $2. (gourmet flavor is wasted on me...I just don't care that much).

2.) I am a health-conscious, non-meat eater. (so all those "vegetarian" dishes smothered in cheese and cream sauce are out).

When I do eat out, I stick to places I know I can get meals that meet my needs -- the Plymouth, Calamari's, Subway, Pie-In-The-Sky, Ruby Tuesday's (oh..that salad bar!) ....

So, when friends invited us to go to try out the new Applebee's in Harborcreek on Saturday night, I hit the ATM for some dinner cash and paid it forward, calorie-wise, with a 10-mile morning run and a light breakfast and lunch. I arrived with more than a thousand calories and $60 to burn.

Turns out I only needed 1/2 of both.

Applebee's has several great Weight Watchers menu items including several fish dishes that were all under 400 calories and $15. Not bad! I opted for shrimp skewers that came on a bed or rice pilaf with a side of broccoli for just 310 calories! And, it was gooooood!

The only thing I will say is that the portions were smaller than you might expect at a regular restaurant (but...this is good -- other restaurants are giving you servings big enough for three people!)

Since I only "spent" 300 calories on dinner, I ordered a nice, frosty Pina Colada and sucked up several hundred of those calories I'd earned.

The husband got bourbon steak and a few beers.

Altogether, our bill was $35 (with tip).

So, if you've been living under a rock -- like me -- and haven't tried Applebee's. It get's this runner's stamp of approval and is now on the very short list of restaurants where I'll consider spending hard-earned cash and calories.

I'm off to the Windy City for the Special Sections Conference tomorrow, so I decided to pick up a book for myself for the plane ride when I took the kids to the Blasco library on Monday.

I must've walked around those fiction shelves for an hour trying to find something I wanted to read. I just couldn't find anything that looked good and I couldn't -- for the life of me -- remember any of the 312 books I always wanted to read when I had the time.

I looked at Upton Sinclair's "The Jungle" -- it's on Blasco's summer reading list, but... one flip through told me it was not a book this vegetarian could stomach.

I leafed through some of the books on the "new fiction" display, but I didn't care for any of those -- set too far back in history, too confusing, too stuipd, too science-fiction-y (yes, I know that's not a word). Too short, too long, too heavy to lug around on vacation ...

I ended up with "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" by Carson McCullers. I hope it's worth lugging around an airport. I'll guess I'll find out tomorrow.

After the conference this week, I'm on a blissful week of vacation, during which time I hope to read another book or two, but I need your help. Tell me what books you've recently read and loved.

I am particluarly interested in lighter fare right now (and seems I'll need it if the Amazon reviews of "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" are correct) You know... a stereotypical good beach read. Maybe a good chick lit novel. Any suggestions? Post below!

Here I am at 7 p.m. on a Friday night in the heart of Chicago's magnificent mile, a place that people come from the world over to shop (Neiman Marcus, Tiffany & Co., Coach, Lord & Taylor, etc.), and what am I doing? Hanging out in the MAC store blogging.

Nothing else to do. I sure as heck can't afford anything in this city.

I have been walking around "shopping" for a few hours now & I'm struck my the same feeling I have every time I come to this city -- a weird sort of sadness and shame in the human race. The excess here is ridiculous and just outside of all of these overpriced stores with all their overpriced merchandise, the homeless beg for spare change.

The juxtaposition of it all is just too much for me. Such complete poverty mingling with obscene wealth (and, trust me, if you can shop Michigan Ave. in Chicago, you are wealthy).

I don't know why, but it just makes me sad.

And it makes me miss our little city -- where things make sense.

And no one would pay $145 for a purse.

I'm not exactly a girly-girl. My husband calls me low-maintenance and it's one of the things he says he likes most about me. I can be ready to go anywhere in 30 minutes (Add 20 minutes for each kid I have to take with me).

I rarely fret or fuss over what I'm wearing or how my hair looks. I don't care about designer labels, expensive perfume or salon-sold shampoo. The only beauty item I truly could not live without is my razor.

This laisse-faire approach to fashion and beauty is both a source of pride and a source of shame for me. When I'm around women who get regular manicures and wear the latest fashion, I am sometimes embarrased by my ignorance of and lack of experience in the girly world.

But, mostly I'm proud of my low-maintenance lifestyle. I am this way because I choose to be. And, really, the older I get, the more comfortable I am with who I am on the inside. I'm believe that shows through to the outside -- not matter what's on my feet or how much makeup is on my face.

My bare-minimum approach to beauty has always come in handy when traveling -- it makes for less baggage and a lighter carry on -- and this week was a perfect example.

There I was at 7 a.m. on Thursday morning preparing for my flight to Chicago when NBC news reported on the newly-restricted carry-on items for commercial fliers.

I glanced down at my carry-on bag. Hmmm..what would this mean to me?

Uh...well, not much, really.

A quick inventory of my carry-on bag found only four items that matched the "banned" criteria: Lip gloss, a Tide-to-Go stick, hairspray and hand lotion.

I threw the items into one of the pockets in my garment bag (which I planned to check) and prepared to breeze through security.

Until they informed me that I couldn't take my morning cup of joe.

Hairspray, liquid eyeliner and shampoo are one thing, but confiscating a working mom's coffee? That's just cruel.

As if I needed another reason to hate Bin Laden.

I'm sporting a stylish flourescent-orange polka dot paper bracelet on my left wrist -- evidence of a day of fun at Waldameer Park and Waterworld.

Whenever we go there, the first thing my husband does when we get home is cut off his wristband. He always offers to cut mine off. I always pull away and say "No, not yet."

He laughs. He thinks it's silly that I like to leave my paper jewelry on for a while. I'm not sure why I like to leave it on. Maybe it's just because it's a visible reminder of a great summer day.

And, every day at Waldameer is a great day -- even if it ends with a 5-year-old with an upset stomach (the running to the bathroom kind), as it did for us today.

Why do we love Waldameer? Let me count the ways:

1. It's affordable. With the coupon in the paper (OK, I printed it off the web site, but...there should be one in the newspaper Thursday! ), it was just $14 for combo passes ($11.50 for the younger, shorter daughter). Total price for a family of four -- less than $55 (now, that's value Erieites can love! ).

2. It's kid-friendly. There are more than enough kiddie rides to wear out even the youngest of riders. The older the girls get, the more they can ride. Of course, the more rides we talk them onto, the less they want to ride -- for instance, the Whacky Shack, Pirates Cove and Log Flume ride are all OUT -- they've been there, done that & they've made it clear they won't be talked into that again!

3. You can bring in your own lunch. Most parks wouldn't dream of letting patrons bring in coolers full of food and drink. AFterall, food and drink is where many parks are making the big bucks -- charging $6 for cotton candy and $5 for a cup of pop. We brought our own sandwiches, chips, fruit and water. And, as always, we buy dessert at the concession stands -- we figure that it's only fair we spend a few of the dollars we saved there!

4. BYOB. You can pack -- and enjoy -- a nice cold beer in the picnic grove with your sandwiches, chips and fruit if you are so inclined. We, when on vacation, are always inclined.

5. No traffic and/or parking hassles. Even on the busiest day of the year, you are closer to an entrance than you are on the slowest day at a major park. And, forget about all those snaking, creeping lines of traffic you experience when leaving other parks -- just doesn't happen at Waldameer (except maybe on the nights they have free fireworks! ).

6. The views are amazing. Any ride that gets you way up in the air -- and you know there are LOTS of them at Waldameer -- offers stunning lake views. From the top of the Ferris wheel, Presque Isle and Lake Erie look so incredible that I can't help but feel blessed to live here.

Who can blame a person for wanting to hold onto a piece of that -- in the form of a stylish flourescent-orange wristband -- for a day or two?

I was saddened to read in the newspaper this morning that Alcor, the Erie Zoo's broken-footed polar bear, died following surgery to repair his paw. If you haven't heard the whole sad story, you can read it at www.goerie.com.

I did an internship at the Erie Zoo in my final year of college -- assistant to ZooGuy Scott Mitchell in the Community Relations Department (yes, he's really as nice as he seems). I impressed the zoo folks during my internship and was asked to stay on as a part-time summer temp after I graduated.

I stayed for four years.

I worked for peanuts and didn't have any benefits. But, really, I was 22 years old and if there's a time you can live on a meager paycheck and risk living without health insurance, it's when you're young, healthy and single.

Like I said, they didn't pay me much, but what I gained in experience was priceless. During my years there, I did everything from stuffing 5,000 plastic Easter Eggs to on-air radio interviews to handling an 8-foot boa constrictor and teaching kids about reptiles to raking poop in the Children's Zoo when we were short-handed because all the keepers when back to college. At the zoo, everyone pitches in -- wherever help is needed.

The biggest lesson I learned at the zoo was that I really hated working in Public Relations -- which was a problem since that is what I had a brand-spanking-new college degree in. But, I discovered desktop publishing there and fell in love with page design and I enjoyed writing press releases and articles for the ZooNews newsletter. These were the things that led me to a new career at the newspaper.

I'm glad I'm not there today. It will be quiet in the offices today -- somber and sad, I'm sure.

I winced when I read today's headline about Alcor because I know, in light of all the recent zoo animal deaths, that it will make some people begin to wonder if they're not being properly cared for.

Let me assure you that they are. The people who work at the zoo don't do it for the money, the glory or the great work environment -- trust me -- they don't pay well, there is no glory in zookeeping and if you've ever smelled a giraffe, you'd know they don't work there for the enviroment (oh my Lord, skunks have NOTHING on giraffe funk). It's a labor of love.

Erie Zoo staffers, keepers and volunteers love those animals. And, as a former insider, I can attest to the fact that the animals at the Erie Zoo always come first. Period. They get the best of everything. They are always the No. 1 concern and the No. 1 priority. Period.

The sad truth is that they did the best they could for Alcor -- he was operated on by a world-renowned veterinarian and accompanied by 4 Erie Zoo staffers (including a vet) who did everything they could to help him.

We all hoped and wished for a better ending -- a nice, happy Barbaro-the-race-horse ending.

It's heartbreaking that it went the other way, but it's nobody's fault.

My husband noticed a puddle under my car a week or so ago. I waved it off, figuring if there were a problem the "check engine" light would be on. Well, the puddles under the car kept growing bigger and bigger and when we returned from a weekend camping trip in hell (oops, I mean Camper's Paradise in Cook's Forest), there was no denying the lake that had formed under my car.

Now, my husband is a handy guy -- he put an entire second floor on my house -- but his auto knowledge is limited. He can change spark plugs, brakes, oil, wipers, but anything beyond basic maintenance requires a visit to to the auto repair shop.

Now, it's 9:51 and I'm awaiting "the call" -- you know the mechanic's diagnosis & "what should we do" call. I'm running all these scenarios through my head and hoping it's simple hose problem and not a radiator or transmission problem.

If it is a major problem, buying a new (or used) car is not an option. We're still paying on the husband's truck and can't afford two car payments at once. So, whatever it is...we've got to have it fixed.

Will I be happily writing a check for $100 or somberly withdrawing $1,000 (or more) out of the savings account? At this point, I just don't know.

As Tom Petty sang -- the waiting is the hardest part.

(Yeah, you're welcome, now that song will be running through YOUR head all day too).

osted by Heather in General ( 63.174.21.30 )
As I suspected, the news from the mechanic wasn't pretty. Something's wrong with the water pump (or something like that). All I know is that it's going to take three days and $900 to fix it.

My response?

Whatever.

Whatever.

WHATever!

It's the underlying feeling about much of my life right now -- I give. Whatever. It is what it is.

Websters defines "Whatever" as: "anything or everything that."

Kinda vague, but that's the beauty of the word and the feeling.

For me, "whatever" is an irritated throwing up of the hands. An acceptance of the inevitable, even if it's unfair or unreasonable. A giving up of the fight because it's just not worth the effort (or it's a battle I can't win). Mostly, it's a refusal to deal with something or someone.

Lately, I've been using the word a lot -- at work and at home.

I've been using it so much that my daughters have added it to their word weapons. They haul it out whenever they're frustated with me or sick of listening to me harp on them to clean up the playroom. They'll cut me off with "whatever" as they spin on their heels and walk out of the room.

I know I probably shouldn't, but I always laugh. Which is no doubt why they keep doing it.

Whatever.

The latest issue of Her Times Magazine is HOT off the presses and will be in your Erie Times-News this Sunday, August 27.

This issue sizzles!

Image

Our theme is "It's Getting Hot in Here" and we'll be addressing all kinds of hot and cool issues.

Some of things you'll learn include:
* What it feels like to be fly 600 feet above Presque Isle Bay in a harness tied to a speeding boat.
* How to stop a hot pepper from burning your mouth.
* Where the hottest local dishes are.
* How to cool down your hot flashes
* What's hot (and what's not) in fashion.
* How to keep the heat on in the bedroom!
* What to do when office flirting gets too hot to handle.
* How to deal with people who are impossible to work with.
* Why abused women don't just leave.
* How to get yourself into hot water -- canning that is.

Be sure to grab this hot little magazine before the husband does (rumor has it that quite a few men are enjoying this publication as well! ).

And, if you enjoy the magazine, please be sure to patronize the advertisers who support it and mention that you saw their ad in Her Times magazine! They are vital to the continuation of the magazine!

Posted by Heather in General ( 63.174.21.30 )
The marketing folks here are conducting some in-house focus groups in preparation for a branding campaign. They're trying to figure out what people think about our products and what they expect from us. They decided to start on the inside -- asking us for our opinions on a variety of topics and subjects related to our products. At the end of the discussion they posed an interesting question that I now steal and pose to you.

"If you had 30 extra minutes in a day, what would you do with it?"

My answer, initially, was to spend it doing something fun with my kids. Then, I changed my mind and said I'd love to have time to actually spend or talk to my husband. I spend a lot of time doing things with the kids, what I'd really love is some time to spend with my husband. I'd love to play cards or go for a walk or just hang out and talk. But, every weeknight (and weekend) is a race to get the household chores done, the kids fed, bathed and in bed. By the time we are done with all of our own responsibilities, we fall on the couch at 10 p.m. and go mute. I don't feel like talking -- or doing anything more strenuous than reading mail, leafing through a magazine or falling asleep in front of the TV.

What would you do with 30 extra minutes? Post your responses below!

(Be aware that the verification code can be kind of a pain -- I know & I apologize in advance -- please keep trying. It is case sensitive. If all else fails -- stick your comments in an email to me & I'll post them for you! ).

After all my previous griping about the high cost of admission to Splash Lagoon, I took the girls there yesterday for a last Splash of summer.

I was thrilled a few weeks ago when the newspaper contained a post-it note from Splash Lagoon advertising a buy 2 get 1 free deal. I'll take that bait.

With my coupon and the gift cards I'd been saving up I didn't even have to spend a dollar out of the weekly budget (which is good because I need to find $1,000 to rescue my car).

It was surprisingly busy for an idle Monday afternoon, but we had a blast and it was nice to lay around and relax -- lounging around in warm water for hours on end.

Of course, I paid for it later -- with two overly tired kids flailing themselves around the kitchen at 5:30 p.m. and a houseful of housework (and take-home work) I had left behind.

In the end, though, Splash Lagoon really is worth the money, time and temper tantrums.

Remember the excitement of the first day of school? I'd lay awake at night thinking of what the year would be like. Which of my friends would be in my class(es)? Would Johnny so-and-so still be the class hearthrob? Which of my new outfits should I wear? Will I be able to make it from Science class to English on the other side of the building in 3 minutes?

My daughters are years from worrying about hearthrobs or traveling time between classes, but their excitement was obvious when they trotted down the stairs at 6 a.m. this morning with their fancy dresses in hand, eager for their first day of preschool.

Actually, it was only an orientation day, but they made no distinction -- they were going to school!

Kelly is in her 3rd year of preschool. She made the cut-off (her b-day is late July) and could've got to Kindergarten this year, but we felt it was better (as did her preschool teacher) to put her in 5-day preschool this year. So, Kelly has been telling her little sister Lauren all about school (little sis is going 3 days a week) -- the exact order of business (First, playtime, then clean up, then calendar time, then art time ....) And, informing her of all the rules (You have to sit and listen to your teacher....).

My fearless Lauren had no qualms about separating from Mom or Grandma. She bounded into Mrs. Z's classroom -- eager to finally be able to play with all the toys she'd seen the other kids play with when we used to drop off and pick up Kelly in the last school year.

I fear Mrs. Z will have her hands full with Lauren. She's a spitfire with ants in her pants. "Lauren, sit down" may become the most-used phrase in her classroom. But, then, maybe it's just because I'm comparing her to her quite, shy older sister.

Kelly, too, was thrilled to go back to school. Many of the kids from her class last year are going to 5-day and she knows her teacher and most of the kids in her class already. She's comfortable there and will surely blossom this year. I'm excited just thinking of all the cool things she'll learn this year (how to tell time, basic math, reading!) and am now confident that I made the right decision (to put her in 5-day rather than Kindergarten).

So both girls were thrilled to be at school and could've cared less about leaving me and grandma in the hall wondering how this all happened so fast. Where did my babies go?

Before I know it I'll be dropping them off at college.

Word has it Erie will be feeling the effects of Tropical Storm Ernesto this long Labor Day weekend. Rain is forecasted for the entire weekend. Unfortunately, we've got several picnics and a canoe trip down the Allegheny River scheduled for this weekend. Looks like it may be a washout on all fronts.

I think we're going to have to move our annual canoe trip from Labor Day weekend -- we've been striking out in the weather-department for the last few years. Last year it was cold and drizzling which makes for a miserable day on the river. We're used to lazily meandering down the river -- our caravan of canoes -- drinking lots of beer, talking lots of smack and trying to tip over every one else's canoe. Last year, we just paddled, paddled, paddled to get it over with and get back to camp where we could drink lots of beer and talk smack in a warm, dry cabin.

I have a feeling we'll be mad paddlers this weekend, too.

I suppose I shouldn't complain -- we could be in the path of the storm and be worried about much more than a few ruined picnics and a cold canoe trip. But, we all have our burdens to bear -- the south has tropical storms and we have lake effect snow and bitter winters.

Which is why it's that much more annoying when our summers get cut short by a tropical storm that is no longer tropical by the time it reaches us.