Auf Wiedersehen

Late Friday afternoon I dug my toes into the warm sand. The beach is unchanged from the days of my childhood and I close my eyes and listen to the roar of the ocean. The tides coming and the wind whips my hair around my face. It's good to be here.

An hour ago my Omi passed away...and somehow words failed me.

Yet, sitting here on a piece of driftwood I remember:

Sitting on two phonebooks at Omi's dining room table when I was just a wee girl.

Her many attempts to teach me to crochet.

The cards and notes she sent me that were always written with a combination German and English.

Walks along the Rogue River.

Trips to this very beach.

I remember that she sent me money for my wedding dress.

And that in every, single wedding photo she is wearing her raincoat.

Holidays, birthdays, beach trips.

Food! Oh heavens there was always food!

I remember when I realized that her breathing had changed and that it wouldn't be long.

Realizing that I was not simply losing my Omi, but what was left of my family.

I recall telephone conversations that were cut short because I had phoned during the airing of her favorite soap opera.

Her love of the National Enquirer (true story folks).

I can hear her sweet, sing-song voice echoing in my mind even as the gulls call from above me.

"I love you Omi."

"I love you too honey."

Rest in peace my dear girl. Thank you for loving me just the way I am. Thank you for loving my Beloved and my children. Thank you for being feisty and waiting to run to Jesus until I got there.

Auf Wiedersehen

Adieu 2008

I’m taking a break from the rambling posts about our winter weather/Christmas joy to bid farewell to the year 2008. I was pretty sure it had been an interesting year, but honestly I couldn’t remember all of it. Pulling the calendar off the wall, I flipped back to remind myself of the little details that had filled my year. Here’s what I found:

January 2008 brought the Z-Monsters forth birthday. We celebrated it like no other four-year-olds birthday because we knew she and her sister, The Destroyer, would be returning to their mother. They did so in April. I cried when they left. I really did. Girl cried too. Beloved breathed a sigh of relief, looked at the two of us as if we’d lost our minds and went back to his life, sans foster daughters. It’s funny how ones perspective changes with time and how we can laugh now at the trials and tribulations those wee, tiny tyrants drug us through. We don’t see them as often as we’d like, but at least we know that they are doing well and that Birth-Mom is holding her own.

2008 was also the year of the orthodontist – again. If you’ve ever had more than one child with braces, then you feel my pain. If you’ve ever had to drive two hours to pick up a child and take them to the orthodontist, than sister, I owe you a drink.

It was the year when I started writing book reviews for Litfuse, the year my best friend published her first book and the year I started writing about fitness. 2008 was also the year that I started two different stories, but never completed them. The main character of the first one still yells at me whenever she’s given the chance. Maybe this year…

There were biology classes, piano lessons, writers group. Girl worked at Bible Club, she worked at kids camp and she drank gallons of Starbucks. I spent hour after hour driving, driving, driving girl in 2008. It was also the first year that Girl left home for a solid week without her Momma, her Daddy, or her over-protective brother along for the ride. It was a long week. She danced at the Regency Ball and the graduation ball. She danced with boys, much to her brother’s dismay. Then she aced her CAT and smiled to realize that homeschool is nearly finished.

Boy worked at camp. He studied Greek. He brought his stinky laundry home once a month and reminded us of youth and dreams and crazy boy things. Boy fell in love, checked that duty off his list and was side-swiped when girl-who-won’t-be-named wasn’t as serious as he was. Poor Boy. A lesson was learned and a song added to his anthology of music written and sung. Boy recorded his first CD. He also wrote a song for his father, which makes his mother weep.

Beloved and I escaped to the beach and were reminded of the sweetness of when it was just the two of us. He’s my life you know. He makes it all tick. We are going to miss the children when they finally start their adult lives, but we’ll survive because we have each other.

2008 brought me my first job outside the house in nearly seventeen years. I was scared. I was nervous. After five months of employment, I still delight in my work and with those I work with. Someone made a comment to me about my job being “a dead-end job” . I just blinked at her. She doesn’t understand that this is more than a job to me. It’s a way of changing a woman’s life, of helping her to see her potential, of lifting her up. Maybe my little part-time job won’t change the world, but it will change lives. I think that rocks!

And I ran. I ran for the first time in years. I ran a mile. Then I ran two. Three was not far behind. 2008 was the year of the runner and I think 2009 will be the year of the 5K, the 10K and maybe, gulp, the half-marathon?

In 2008 my friends battled tumors, heart-breaks, and children. They struggled with health issues, marital problems, and sick and elderly parents. My friends lost weight, ran miles, and had hysterectomies. I made them laugh, I drove their mothers around, I cried when they cried and offered to beat up those who hurt them. 2008 was a great year for friendships and I was indeed blessed.

So, I bid you adieu 2008. You’ve brought me more smiles than tears and in retrospect I suppose that’s all that really matters.

Happy New Year!

Sandlake Country Inn

Beloved and I had a lovely, lovely time during our escape. I left ya’ll with some pictures, but no details. So, as promised, here’s the skinny on the Sandlake Country Inn

We chose the Sandlake Country Inn because it came very (very) highly recommended to us by our friend’s The Browns. Gas prices being what they are, we wanted a getaway that wasn’t too away, if you know what I mean. Located in Tillamook County, the Inn sits just ten minutes from Pacific City and the beautiful Oregon coast.

Our first reaction to seeing the Inn as we pulled up was, “Hmmm, looks like a house.” Which of course it is, but do not judge by the simple exterior, for what lies within will astonish you. We were greeted by Diane and after a quick check-in she walked us across the driveway to “the Cottage”.

Surrounded by lilacs, wild roses, and a babbling stream, the Cottage is a little slice of heaven here on earth. It’s separate from the main house and thus provides even more privacy. Diane showed us the fully equipped kitchen with breakfast nook, the living room area (complete with gas fireplace and TV DVD/VCR), the bedroom – with it’s own private patio, another TV, snowy white robes and yes, even comfy slippers, and finally the bathroom. The bathroom features a huge (HUGE) Jacuzzi tub, shower, and small toilet room. Seriously. It’s the smallest bathroom eveh. We had a lot of laughs over that tiny toilet room. But don’t be put off by it. It’s simply another quaint feature of this dreamy retreat.









After the tour, Diane handed us a tin of the Inn’s famous cookies, asked what time we’d like breakfast delivered to our door (what? No eating breakfast with complete strangers? Yeah!). She explained to us that coffee and juice would be served at 8:00am to the ledge outside our door. Diane assured us that if we weren’t up, not to worry, the coffee would still be there and hot when we got up. Diane also gave us a key to the main Inn and told us to help ourselves to any books or movies from the library. “If you need anything or have any questions, just call.” With that, she wished us a happy weekend and left.

The Sandlake Country Inn was so amazing; so peaceful, so romantic, so…perfect. It has earned numerous awards, including Most Romantic Hideaway and one of the Best Places to Kiss in the Northwest by Inn Traveler Magazine. The owners, Ron and Diane Emineth, have created such a beautiful and romantic place, that, frankly, I didn’t want to leave.

And I haven’t even told you about the food yet!

The cookies are incredible. In-cred-ible. I can’t begin to describe them other than to say that I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a softer, more delicate cookie in my life. They are melt-in-your-mouth wonderful and I challenge anyone to eat just one. And don’t worry if you eat them all that first night, all you have to do is ask and the tin will be happily refilled.

Breakfast arrived promptly at 9:30 with a discreet ring of the bell (yes, we chuckled to see the barer of our meal jog quickly back across the driveway so as not to intrude upon our privacy). Monday’s breakfast featured:

Black Raspberry Juice
Strawberries and Cream
Baked Apple Oatmeal with Milk
Sandlake Breakfast Pie (think quiche)
Marionberry Coffee Cake

Tuesday’s menu featured:

Orange, strawberry, and banana juice
Chocolate Lemon Fruit Cup
Granola with Milk (I believe the granola was made from scratch)
Sausage links
South of the Border Eggs
Mini Cinnamon Rolls




Every bite was delicious and there was plenty (plenty) of food. We so enjoyed our escape and the peace and quiet we found. The time we spent together was nothing short of amazing and we hope to return to the Sandlake Country Inn soon!

Need an escape? Diane was kind enough to give me some postcards with a 10% discount to the Inn for your first stay of two or more nights. I’d be happy to send you one for the asking. I have only a couple so this will be on a first come, first serve basis. Simply leave me a comment requesting a postcard.

Coming up next: Photo's of our escape

In Parting, Let Me Just Say...

There is an old custom among my people. It’s the tradition of the “parting gift”. Now usually, it’s a snide or sarcastic remark usually accompanied by a hug or pat on the back. Sometimes it’s supplemented by the ending line of, “We’ll see you next________ (insert holiday here),” which is shouted at you as you drive away. Even though they know full well it will probably be years before they can clamp that iron fist of guilt around your throat and thus drag you back into the pit of despair, er, the family homestead.

Sometimes the parting gift includes food. The sandwiches made with mayonnaise, (the warm, congealed contents of which will end up in a dumpster on route 99) so you won’t have to stop on the way home to eat. The left over chicken, cookies, pie. Maybe a bottle of water, warm soda, or the leavings in the coffee pot. The parting gift can be many different things, but they all mean the same thing; we’ll miss ya. Hurry back soon.

Our youngest foster daughter, however, hasn’t quiet got the feel for this tradition and instead of leaving me with some witty, guilt ridden one liner, she’s blessed me with a doozey of a head cold. Nice. KK the Destroyer is a bit too free with her love and she’s snotted, sneezed, and slimed me on just about every inch of my person. Ewwww…

Actually, they haven’t officially left the building. Like Elvis, they’re lingering, at least until Wednesday morning. Most of their stuff is gone, except for the random few toys and clothes. I sent the scrapbook I made of the girls to Bio-Mom on Saturday. One more pick-up and I’m finished driving 40 miles (round trip) twice a week.

But I’m toying with a goodbye gift. Just a little something to mark the day as special “welcome back to your mom’s world, hope it don’t kill ya” kinda gift. No, it’s not necessary and in many ways I’d rather give them a cell phone and teach them how to dial 911 and my number, considering it would probably be more useful than a new toy, but that’s not very, um, constructive or nice. Not really.

I’d like to impart wisdom to them. You know, the kind of words you say as you drop you child off at college for the first time:

Make sure to get enough sleep

Call your mother, she’ll worry

Don’t eat too many carbs

Don’t forget to call home

Be careful who you hang out with

Do you have my cell phone number?

Don’t post nasty pictures on the internet; they’re sure to come back to haunt you

If you call and no one answers, leave a message so we know you’ve called

If you need anything, just call

Call, you don’t want to make your mother cry

Remember, I’m just a phone call away…

However, the little girls are, well, little. They don’t know how to use a phone (should have taught them) and they don’t TXT, IM, or blog. I’ll have to rely on God to watch over them. But I think I’ll remind them that:

God is always near, no matter what

Pick up your toys

Auntie loves you

Auntie Teri loves you too

Don’t fight

Uncle Chris loves

So does Uncle Alan

Share

Brush your teeth

Look both ways before crossing a busy street

Wash your hands

Don’t fight

I love you

I will always love you

Parting gifts come in many shapes and sizes. Some are thoughtful, some are simply passed down through generations of grandmothers, like that Stollen recipe everyone tries to give me at Christmas. So, in parting, let me just say, again, I love you Monster and I love you too Destroyer. Or better yet:

Live long and prosper

The Apple of My Eye

So, my mother is mean. Got it. Won’t forget it again. I’ve sworn before and will swear again, “I will not be my mother. I am a child of God. He loved me enough to die for me and He doesn’t play head games. I will not be my mother. I will be like my heavenly Father. The one who (gulp) forgives, the one who loves unconditionally, the one who can strike that woman dead with just a flick of his little finger…”

Ooopppss…What I meant to say, is that I will keep my eyes where they should be and not focus on the negative around me.

With that being said please allow me to introduce you to my daughter.





My lovely, talented, amazing daughter is fifteen. She is a giver. The delightful Miss C is the apple of my eye and part of the reason I will never behave like my mother (her older brother is the other reason). She brings sunlight and laughter into this house and without her; I would be lost, really.

As a little girl she was scared of everything. From sand to uneven country ground, she feared it. The loft of the barn was beyond her mind and legs grasp since she had to climb a ladder to get there. Miss C was afraid of the dark and spiders. A funny thing though, she wasn’t afraid of snakes.

She would hunt and catch one gardener snake after another…bare handed. A feat even her older brother wouldn’t attempt. When one bit her, she’d scream, drop it, then turn and pick it up again. The family spent a good deal of time rolling in laughter watching her antics with the snakes.

Miss C had a blood curdling scream. I kid you not. If she was hurt, she screamed. Mad? She screamed. Frustrated, yep, you got it, she screamed. I well remember a time when Beloved was home from work when Miss C let loose with one of those earth shattering shrieks. He dropped what he was doing and sprinted for the front door. I shook my head and sighed, “She’s not hurt. She’s just mad.” If I remember correctly, after that event, she never screamed like that within her father’s hearing. For my part, I finally told her that, “If you scream like that again, there had better be blood or someone better be trying to steal you away.” Thankfully, she outgrew that annoying little habit.

My dearest daughter is a lover of books, her piano, chocolate, and Starbucks. She loves to cook, as long as it involves sugar. She despises washing dishes but is usually pretty fair minded when it comes to drying them. Miss C has gained a reputation for volunteering at our church and knows more people than I do. I am constantly reminded of the sweetness of her character by the praises of others.

Of course, she isn’t all peaches and cream. It would be easier to find and wake Moses than to get that girl out of bed. If she gets in the shower before you, you may as well wait till the cows come home, because she won’t be out any time soon. She “forgets” to scoop that cat box, leaves dirty socks everywhere, and I’m fairly certain she has no idea what a hanger is for. When it comes to shoe shopping, I’d rather hire someone to take her than go myself. She is indeed the princess and the pea when it comes to shoes.

My little girl is fair and blonde, tall and thin, and apparently easy on the eyes by judging the scowl her brother constantly wears when he’s out in public with her. John has informed his sister, Miss C, that she is never getting married since there isn’t a guy alive worthy of her (awwww ain’t that sweet?)

She loves the Lord, loves her Daddy, and yes, she even loves her crazy, emotional mama. I am amazed at her strength of character and marvel at her maturity. Miss C keeps me humble, makes me laugh, and shares her coffee. What more could a mommy ask for?

I love you Crissy


Miss C and Cousin C



Miss C and Miss S before the Father-Daughter Ball



C and C



Snowy Miss C

A Stronger Woman

I was...harsh with someone I love yesterday. I took a stand I've taken before, one that I don't necessarily regret taking. I do regret hurting her.

It's not the first time that I've smacked this individual with my "judgmental, opinionated, bitchy” thoughts on life, love and the pursuit of all that. This family is riddled with snickers, snorts, and otherwise unpleasant conversations pointed in my general direction.

So, why do I do it? Why do I care how she lives or loves? She isn’t my daughter, my sister, my mother. And, frankly, she doesn’t want to hear it anyway.

It’s because I love her. She told me once that I would mother the world, if I was given the opportunity. She’s right. But that doesn’t give me the right to hurt someone’s feelings.

Then last night I heard this song and it made me think of her. It helped me to realize that the reason I took the stand I took was because I want her to be A Stronger Woman .

So forgive me for being a bossy, pushy, see things my way, kinda girl...Cause you know I love you like one o' me own (don't you just feel sorry for C and J??)


Stronger Woman by Jewel

I guess you could say I'm one of those girls
That's always been with one of those guys
You know the type
Like right now, he sleeps while I write
But it's better than crying
I'm worn out from trying
From loving a man who always makes it clear
I'm not welcome here
Just till he's horny and hungry
or needs something cleaned
And you know what I mean

But not tonight
'Cause come the morning light, oh
I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me

I'm going to be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no,
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me

Light bulbs buzz,
I get up
And head to my drawer
I wish there was more
I could say
Another fairytale fades to gray
I've lived on hope
Just like a child
Walking that mile
Faking that smile
All the while
Wishing my heart had wings

Well tonight, I'm going to be
The kind of woman I'd want my daughter to be, oh

I'm gonna love myself more than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
I won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman

This is me, packing up my bags
And this is me, headed for the door
And this is me, the best you ever had
I'm going to love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me even if someone cannot see
There's a stronger woman in me
I'm going to be my own best friend
Stay with me till the end
Won't lose myself again, never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman
A stronger woman
There's a stronger woman,
A stronger woman in me,
Yeah...

Countdown: 15 days