Vigilante Vortex

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/superheroes-batman-wonder-woman-534104/

Do you have, or have you EVER had, someone in your life you view as your hero?  I have had a few in my lifetime.  Perhaps there will be more to come, but for now, I remember every single person in my life I've ever seen as my hero.  There are differentiating reasons, of course, and they run the gamut.

When I was in elementary school, I knew a girl that had a hard - and I mean HARD life.  She came to school with bruises, her clothes were not clean, and her shoes were falling apart.  She and I were good friends, though.  Perhaps because we were both bullied we had a kinship.  But I looked up to her.  She made good grades, never complained, and always worked hard.  When I found out about her home life and saw how hard she worked in school and never let those bullies get the best of her, she became a hero to me.  I looked up to her and often thought she might just grow up to BE a super hero!

Certain members of my family took very good care of me.  Whatever the reason, and whatever the time line, they took time from their own lives to try to do whatever it took to show me love when I was a very small child.  I didn't know it then, but they have since grown to be heroes of mine in my adult years as I look back.

Many people stand out to me.  But there is one instance in particular where a small group of people became my heroes all at once.

It started with the egging of our house in mid-October one year.  Eh.  Sometimes people make bad decisions in the name of fun, so we chalked it up to just that.  Until it escalated to rotten meat, terroristic phone calls in the middle of the night or wee hours of the morning, and down-right torture on a daily basis.  And it lasted for MONTHS. Now who it was or why they did it doesn't matter - that's a story for another post (Or maybe it isn't.  I don't want to give those crooks any more spotlight than they deserve!)  End result: they were caught.  Now they obviously aren't heroes of any kind.  It's the people that helped us through that traumatic time in our lives.

All we did was share what was happening with friends; and those friends, Hugh Durlam, Jan-Michael Jenkins, and Derek Rogers showed up to our house, and along with our son, Cameron, our son-in-law, Sam, and The Hubster....FOR THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW ALL NIGHT LONG......sat outside our home crouched in the shadows, waiting and watching - to help capture the criminals.  And they weren't the only ones!  The "un-sung heroes" as I've heard it put lately - the WIVES of these men (Diana, Amber, Lauren, and Chelsea) - never complained or said no to their daredevil husbands playing the part of the Justice League.

Of course, Adrian and I did all we could to make it fun - I baked throughout the night in a dark house and made sure everyone had cookies and milk (true super-hero food!) as they lie in wait.  We had walkie-talkies.  We prayed. We laughed.  And we cried.

When the authorities caught them (ultimately due to our vigilante nights and uncovered evidence!) we decided to throw a (costume) party in honor of our hero-friends.  (Of course we did!)  We gathered all those that helped.....all those heroes......and we told them to dress as their own favorite hero and come be honored at the party we dubbed 'Vigilante Vortex'.  It was one of the best nights of celebration I've ever had.  There was Hulk Hogan, Zombie Apocalypse Killers, Batman, Rocky, even The Lone Ranger...the list goes on!  (Photos below)  We played.  We laughed.  And we cried.  It was nothing short of amazing to The Hubster and me, and filled us with awe and wonder, how these people were so willing to sacrifice and give of themselves simply because they love us.  

That is definitely the definition of a hero in my book: one that gives sacrificially.

Think about all the heroes in the world.  Maybe you don't know them personally, or perhaps you do.  Maybe you think immediately of the soldiers who sacrifice every day.  Maybe it's your mom or your dad who sacrificed so much to raise you.  Maybe you think of your spouse that had to sacrifice in some way to show their love and admiration for you.  Maybe it's a teacher that sacrificed and invested time in you to help set you up for success.  Maybe it's a Martin Luther King, Jr., or a Rosa Parks, or even an Abe Lincoln.  Or maybe it's just someone who loves you so much they have shown that love selflessly and sacrificially.

Remember who YOU are to people.  Be intentional and sacrificial.  Be loving and selfless.  BE SOMEONE'S HERO.

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Egg on My Face

Photo Source: http://www.pdpics.com/photo/2008-mad-egg-emoticon/

Easter is one of my most-favorite times of the year.  There are many reasons:

1. I'm a Believer, and as a Believer, this holiday represents the height of what my personal faith lies on - Jesus is alive!

2. I love the way springtime feels.

3. It is a tradition in my (Italian) family to make salami pie!  WHO DOESN'T LOVE SALAMI PIE??

4. Pastels.

5. We get to eat colored hard-boiled eggs.  YUM.

I love coloring the eggs.  We have done it every year since the kids were small, and continue to do it even though they are grown now.  I especially love coloring them now that I am much more chemical-conscious.  I have found so many ways to color eggs naturally!

Now a few years ago, in preparation to color our Easter eggs, I did what every one of YOU do prior to coloring eggs for Easter: I boiled them.  (Notice I didn't say "hard-boiled" them?)

I thought I did all the right things.  I brought the eggs to a rolling boil, let them cook in the water for some time, and then turned off the heat and rinsed them with cold water.  I put them in the fridge to cool prior to coloring them, and started on my food coloring ingredients of rosemary, blueberries, purple cabbage, red zinger tea bags, and turmeric.  I was just sooooo proud of myself.  So I called The Hubster to the beautiful table I had set with the array of colored water/vinegar elixirs I had prepared, the carton of boiled eggs (nope, still not gonna use the other reference), and two lovely glasses of wine.  (Those were for us, not the eggs).  Adrian had turned on some nice music and we got to work.

After each egg was colored, we tenderly placed them back in the egg carton to dry.  Easter morning before church, I placed all the eggs into the cutest little basket and placed them on the table as a centerpiece where we would be eating these eggs, along with our Easter ham, salami pie, and other goodies.  The kids look forward to this very meal every year!  The Hubster likes his with a little mayo, relish, and cayenne.  Cameron pops an entire egg into his mouth at one time.  Chelsea carefully cleans out the yolk and gives it to Sam while she eats the whites. And Jordan slices his and puts it on his ham - ohhhhhhh, how the family would be SO PROUD of me when they saw these eggs!   They looked stunning, even if I did say so myself.

As I set the table that afternoon, those beauties were calling my name.  Which one should I eat?  Which one wouldn't take away from the glorious eye-feast that was my egg centerpiece?  Which one would I delight in sprinkling a little sea salt and cracked black pepper on before placing the delectable into my watering mouth??

I slowly scanned the treasure basket and focused in on the deep-emerald splendor and grabbed it, carefully tucking the other eggs not chosen into its place so as not to disturb the egg-basket trophy I so proudly displayed.  Holding it in front of me in both hands like it were delicate glass (okay, that part's not true, but it made for good imagery), I went into the kitchen, opened the garbage basket, and begrudgingly (it was just SO PRETTY, after all) banged it on the counter so as to crack it's armor and peel it away to the delicious orb that lie beneath.

Here comes the good part.

So I smashed it.  I wanted to just be able to give it a good crackin' to hurry and get to it, after all.  BOOM.  Full-hand smash.  Aaaaand the egg exploded all over me; like, EXPLODED.  Apparently, I had NOT boiled them properly, and the only part of it cooked was a small layer around the outside.  That layer blew into bits upon the smash, and the rest of the liquidy egg was everywhere.

I literally was standing there with egg on my face.

And we did not get to eat our eggs that year, either, needless to say.  (Oh, don't worry - there was PLENTY of ham and salami pie, along with decadent potatoes and asparagus, but that's a story for another post)

I have now, thanks to that experience, perfected the hard-boiled egg.  Perfect white, not too rubbery, and the golden center, not too dry, but cooked just right.  I have taken this secret out of the vault and am giving it to you as a gift.  The 'recipe' is below.

Do you prize what looks good on the outside, never REALLY taking the steps needed to go a little deeper and find out if what's inside is what is REALLY of worth?  As you age, are you gracious to yourself and consider the wealth of knowledge and experience you've gained over the course of this precious life to put into the vault, or do you just waste this gift of life wishing you could do it over again?  Don't wind up with egg on YOUR face.  Remember to look past what's only skin-deep and find value in the golden center that's been cooked just right......it helps perfect the recipe for the legacy you leave behind.

THE PERFECT HARD-BOILED EGG

Place your eggs in the pot you wish to boil them in.  Cover them with water and sprinkle with a touch of baking soda (this helps the peeling process!).  Bring to a rolling boil.  Cover and remove from heat.  Let them sit for exactly 13 minutes.  Pour out the water and cover with cool water.  Let sit 3 more minutes.  Rinse with cold water again, letting the cold water run over the eggs for another minute or two.  Eat right away or refrigerate and save for later.

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

To She or Not to She (looking for a Valentine?)

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

To know me is to love me…is NOT what most people say if they know me.  Don’t get me wrong.  I know people who know me do, indeed, love me.  Keeping it real, though:  if they KNOW me, AND they love me – it’s a dangerous cocktail.

I am not your average, uhhhh, (rephrase) NORMAL person.

I am a Jesus freak, a control freak…a freak of nature.  I have extreme obsessive compulsive disorder about having order, am obsessed with my husband, and compulsive about just about anything.  I love wine, hate whining, and whine about whiners.  I am extremely organized in some ways, extremely messy in others, and just plain extreme.  I am eccentric, but old-fashioned.  I am a good cooker, bad with numbers, and mediocre in almost everything else.  I want my kids to be independent, as long as they depend on me.  I'm very serious, and I'm very silly.  And I'm very serious about being silly.  I have a collection of unconventional hats, which I wear to conventional places.  I sing with every song on the radio, and with every song in my heart.  I am obnoxious, but long-suffering.  I am patient, but not for long.  I want to serve, and I find it hard to receive being served.  I’m always tired, but hate to sleep.  I make presents way more than I buy presents, and I love being present.  I love being on-stage and putting it all out there, yet I’m one of the most private people I know.  My living legacy is important to me, and the legacy I leave behind is, too.  I’m a tad narcissistic, and a tad self-loathing.  I’m a tough nut to crack.  I’m a nut.

I’m not the easiest person to love – ESPECIALLY if you know me.

I am sure, though, if I know YOU, I love you.  In some way, and by some show – albeit nominal or intense - I absolutely love you.  It could be the bread I made you from scratch, the prayer I say for you, or the hug I make linger for a long (and sometimes awkward) time with you……or just by telling you so.  But you can bet - I love you.

So, if you're looking for a Valentine:  To She or not to She.  THAT is the question.  Good luck to you, WHICHEVER you choose.

The Perfect Blend

https://www.flickr.com/photos/rgarciasuarez74/4012174390/

When I met Adrian, it was clear we had similar "baggage". We both came from a not-so-amicable divorce, we both had children from that previous marriage, and we both were never going to get married again. (Ya see how that worked out, don't ya?)

These days, we live in a society of blended families. It's the norm, really. People never used to be as surprised to hear an older, married couple say they were celebrating their 25th, 40th, or 50th wedding anniversary. Nowadays, it's astonishing just to hear if someone hasn't been divorced at least once. And yep - I'm part of that society.

After we started seeing each other on a serious level (sounds so mature, doesn't it?), we knew that we weren't just seeing each other, but also each other's children. Then, when we got married, we knew we weren't just marrying each other, but becoming part of the parental units the children would share. I am a person of faith, and I can tell you that the moment I accepted Adrian's proposal, I prayed he would be an example of a man that would buy the truth and not sell it; gain wisdom, instruction, and understanding, and then deliver it to our children. I prayed with all my might he would put aside all judgment and generously share with the children his unconditional love he had for me, and that he would have a "Joseph-spirit", (Joseph, the step-father of Jesus, who, in my opinion was the greatest step-father who ever lived).

I prayed he would be the perfect father, and that together we would be the perfect parents.

Um, NO.

Though at the present time I am the richest woman in the world, it has not come without its trials, pitfalls, difficulties, and snags. The process has been less-than-perfect. There have been disagreements, arguments, knock-down-drag-outs, and moments we are less-than-proud of. We have seen illness, death, valleys, and psychiatrists. We have had seasons where we gained friends and family, but also lost friends and family. We have shared in drama, defeat, lost savings; had powerful, emotional lows, and scraped the bottom of life's barrel. And we did it all together.

Don't get me wrong, we have all - Adrian, me, AND the kids - worked at it with all our hearts, and the price of the success we share as a family unit came through that hard work and dedication. Because with all of those things, we have also seen grace, mercy, compassion, and triumph over illness. We have been taught endurance, grown in faith, strength, and perseverance, and learned to trust. We have celebrated the peaks, marriages, each other, life, and love. And we did it all together.

We have a beautiful family, and we are protective of that. We live a charmed life, always enjoying the things that most people don't see right in front of them, and we are joyful and thankful for that. But if it was all taken away from us tomorrow, we would remember that life is a big canvas and we threw all the paint on it we could; we would remember that we made the decision to be a family and commit ourselves to making it a success; we would remember that without the valleys there would be no peaks. We would remember that we were given the gift of being like a unique wine - the gift of being intricately perfected and blended.

CrossingJordan

This image is © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Being a blended family is no easy task.  It’s been done since the dawn of time, though; even in biblical times.  Joseph is probably the world’s best-known and greatest step-dad ever!

Well our blended family dynamic is one we are consistently working on.   As people change and grow, so does the dynamic.  Jordan is our youngest.  He has always been our “quiet one”.  But, just like his dad, though he doesn't have much to say, when he does, it’s funny, crazy, or profound.

I remember showing him how to tie his shoe: “Over, under, around, and through…that’s how Jordan ties his shoe!”  I remember him saying the word shoes in Spanish – “zapatos” – and he would crack me up every time because of how deliberate and intentional he was about it.  I remember him saying he wanted to be a fireman when he grew up so I arranged for a tour of a firehouse – he screamed and cried the entire time, louder than the firetruck!

Once, he came home and said, “I’ve been thinking about what you were going to cook for dinner aaall day!  You’re a good cooker!”

All good memories.  I would be remiss if I told you it’s all been cheese and lollipops, though.  Of course, we have had disagreements.  Of course we have had misunderstandings.  Of course we have had moments of pain, suffering, and disappointment.  But that happens in ANY family.

I am grateful for Jordan.  Without him even knowing it, he has changed my life in so many ways.  Chelsea and Cameron are so outgoing and (booyah!) “in-yo-face”.  I've watched poor Jordan take a back seat to that so many times – but with quiet fortitude and grace.  I've learned that you can scream something to someone in a relationship without ever making a sound because of Jordan.  I've learned that sometimes that’s best.  I've also learned that you can love a child as though they are your very own, even when they are not because of Jordan.  I've learned that a blood relation does not mean unconditional love, but rather unconditional love deepens a relationship.  I've learned, because of Jordan, that there are more than two sides to every story, and that truth is vital.

I spend a lot of time writing blog posts about my family because they've all been strategically placed in my life to continue to form and mold me.  I blog about all the paths these people in my life have crossed and the way it’s made me become She – the way it’s helped me form my living legacy and the legacy I leave behind.  I've written about crossing paths with many different people, but before today, I’ve yet to write about crossing Jordan and the difference he’s made in me.

Who has made a difference in your life that may not get quite the credit they deserve?  Maya Angelou once said, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said; people will forget what you did; but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used. 

Blue to the Bone

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/two-hearts-red-heart-love-symbol-631344/

When Chelsea was born 21 years ago today, I knew the second she came into the world she would be a force to be reckoned with.  She didn't cry.  She had to be tapped on the bottom with the doctor’s first two fingers before she started to sound like a sweet little lamb.  (It wasn't the last time she would be tapped on the bottom for her rebellious nature!)  But that cry had a certain tone to it – it was different and I knew it right away.

Every night when Chelsea was little, she and I had a ritual after her night-time bath.  I would blow dry her hair and sing a song I knew from when I was a kid called Blue to the Bone.  I have no idea where I learned it or how I knew it – just seemed like it had always been there.  When the blow dryer would go, I would sing it to Chelsea and by the time the song was done, her hair would be dry.  One night, she started to sing it first.  Her voice sounded just so pretty – and she was so stinkin’ cute!  So I started to sing with her, only I added harmony.  Much to my surprise she held her own and a beautiful sound emerged from the lovely acoustics of the bathroom!  (oxy-moronic statement much?)

For my birthday one year, Adrian got a friend of ours, Vic Mignona, to record us singing this song.  He had a recording studio in his home and he does a lot of professional production work, among other things.  Vic added some music and even had Adrian add some bass to the end chorus!  (Picture “Daddy Sang Bass” a la Johnny Cash!)

It was a wonderful gift, as was Chelsea being born.  I still listen to it and when I do, I can’t believe my Little Lamb is all grown up.  She has been through very hard times with grace, and it has pushed her faith to the limit.  But that little rebel never let those times make her blue to the bone.  Instead she created her own song in life, realizing that the decisions she made would create her legacy – understanding life is not always beautiful harmony, but to make the most for every bit of it and be thankful for the opportunity to have a purpose here in this life.

Happy Birthday, Chelsea Dane.  I love you.  Thank you for making my life better.

Here is the recording of Chelsea and I singing Blue to the Bone (featuring Adrian singing bass at the end): 

Sam, I Am

Photo Source: http://www.clipartpanda.com/clipart_images/dr-seuss-clip-art-2185822

As a young girl, I, like many other young girls, would dream up my prince charming.  Mine was tall with dark hair and smoldering eyes, smart, and funny.  He would be the guy that would do anything for his wife.  He would ride in (on a white horse, of course) just in time and save the day.  As an (ahem) older, (much) wiser woman, I now realize that dream came true (minus the horse, of course).  But I’m not just talking about my Prince Charming of a husband.  I've been blessed enough to have the very same dream come true for my daughter.  Little did I know when I was praying for that perfect guy for me, I was asking for the very same for my then not-yet-a-twinkle-in-my-eye daughter.

Sam is what I always refer to as “proof of the power of a praying parent.”  (Say THAT five times fast!)  To say that he is a good husband to our daughter is an understatement.  There is no doubt in our minds that if there was a bullet coming toward her, he would jump in front of it (though we believe it would bounce off his chest).  Yes.  He is definitely a superhero.  The gentle, sweet, and lovely kind  - with the inner strength and moxie of ten men.

But being Chelsea’s husband is not Sam’s entire identity to us.  Sam is someone we've watched go through the horrific loss of his older brother with grace and mourn his loss with full-force.  Sam is that same man that stood with his shoulders taut so that his family could rest on them during that tragedy.  Sam is the man that stands for what’s right at the risk of losing to what’s wrong.  He is the same man that trembled a little when he proposed to Chelsea, but stood tall and strong to look her in the eye on her wedding day.  Sam is the man that took us to lunch to ask for our daughter’s hand in marriage with the promise to protect her, and the man who has followed through on that promise thus far.  He is the man that looks at me with a softness that makes me forget he’s not my own child.  Sam is the man that can look at Chelsea like she is the most beautiful woman that ever existed and yet, like she’s a steak and he’s starving all at the same time.  He is Sam.  Not Sam who tries too hard or pretends to be someone he isn't.  If you were to ask him why he is this way and how did he get here, he would humbly shrug his shoulders, and say with that serious tone-of-voice and a wry little half-smile, “That’s just who I am.”

Sam, I am.

I don’t know that I can extend to you how grateful I am to have that for Chelsea – and for this family.  In this world, and in this life, you never know what you’re going to get.   But I prayed for him – and he came.  God sent him.  Yes.  Sam is a God-send.

Our family goes through the ups and the downs.   And Sam is part of both every step of the way.  But his faith remains strong.  His belief system is part of his make-up – and he won’t let his own burdens weigh on you.  I sometimes stand in amazement at how this is true of our son-in-law.  I watch him with his wife (our daughter) and how he loves her without condition.  I watch him with his younger brother and two younger brothers-in-law, and how he tries so hard to be a leader.  I watch him with his parents and how he loves them enough to be his own man, but thankful for the man they've helped him become.  I watch him silently allow people to be themselves while he slyly watches in the background, careful never to steal any thunder.  I watch him and wish I could say I was Sam.  Sam, I am.

These images are © 2015 by Life As She Does It. Please link back or credit if any content or images are used.