My little Cole. I'm sure glad he attends a Catholic School.
Last night, as he clutched his tummy in pain, complaining about the daunting fast for Ash Wednesday and consequently, his lack of meat for the day, I reminded him what Jesus did for us.
Cole stood up, eyes wide, (apparently no more hunger pains) and began to describe the scene at Golgotha. It was a pretty bloody depiction. “Blood was squirting EVERYWHERE!” And on and on, my sweet little boy went.
So much for my lesson on sacrifice. At least the crucifixion got his mind off his hungry belly…
The Catholic School has embarked on a very worthwhile mission during Lent called Kids Against Hunger. Both Alex and Cole have little jars in the kitchen where they deposit coins. Both saw the same presentation on the hunger program. Alex was obviously more affected than Cole. She immediately went through her change and deposited over $6 in coins. I was quite proud of her. As for Cole? He has nothing to give, so he said. (I know he’s lying. The Tooth Fairy just came last weekend and she was VERY generous.)
Sigh. At what age do they learn that giving and sacrificing is often a gift in and of itself? Alex seems to get it. But she has been a sweetie pie (despite spoiled) ever since I can remember. Again, sigh. Will Cole ever get it? Or will he always be the center of his universe. Just as soon as I see signs of a turnaround, I'll let you know.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
On Love and Vampires, Villains and Friends
So, after the urging of my daughter and my own curiosity over the vampire infatuation, I plunged into Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. As predicted, I’m completely engrossed in the tale of Edward and Bella as I await the delivery of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn.
Doug asked me what Twilight is all about.
“It’s about a vampire who falls in love with someone whom he greatly desires to kill.”
“That pretty much sums it up for all men.”
Hmm. That’s why I like to obtain perspectives of others. Apparently, I haven’t looked at the vampire metaphor from all angles.
Then, as we were watching The Dark Knight for the 53rd time since Christmas, I asked Doug if he would turn evil and avenge my death, like Harvey Dent. Without hesitation, my sweet hubby said, “Of course.”
I wonder though.
Fantasy is good. It reminds me how magical reality is. Seriously. I told my husband the other day (after reading New Moon) how lucky I am to be married to the same person I fell in love with nearly 18 years ago. He, of course, was suspicious because it’s not something I say everyday. But I should.
In other news…Cole seems to be recovered from the flu (hallelujah)...Grease was awesome. How fun it was to experience one of my childhood infatuations with Alex...Flash is still alive, despite his escape due to my own negligence. He showed up in the bathroom, staring at me as I dried my hair... I’m relishing in a headache as a result from a bottle of wine shared with one of my best friends last night. But it is one of those few headaches without regret – we laughed a lot as we sat on the couch and whispered about lots of stuff we never have time to discuss. It reminded me of those nights, long ago, when our youthful spirits stayed up late and giggled ourselves to sleep. Another thing I should do more.
Here's a picture of Lyn and me, as Velma and Ginger of course.
Doug asked me what Twilight is all about.
“It’s about a vampire who falls in love with someone whom he greatly desires to kill.”
“That pretty much sums it up for all men.”
Hmm. That’s why I like to obtain perspectives of others. Apparently, I haven’t looked at the vampire metaphor from all angles.
Then, as we were watching The Dark Knight for the 53rd time since Christmas, I asked Doug if he would turn evil and avenge my death, like Harvey Dent. Without hesitation, my sweet hubby said, “Of course.”
I wonder though.
Fantasy is good. It reminds me how magical reality is. Seriously. I told my husband the other day (after reading New Moon) how lucky I am to be married to the same person I fell in love with nearly 18 years ago. He, of course, was suspicious because it’s not something I say everyday. But I should.
In other news…Cole seems to be recovered from the flu (hallelujah)...Grease was awesome. How fun it was to experience one of my childhood infatuations with Alex...Flash is still alive, despite his escape due to my own negligence. He showed up in the bathroom, staring at me as I dried my hair... I’m relishing in a headache as a result from a bottle of wine shared with one of my best friends last night. But it is one of those few headaches without regret – we laughed a lot as we sat on the couch and whispered about lots of stuff we never have time to discuss. It reminded me of those nights, long ago, when our youthful spirits stayed up late and giggled ourselves to sleep. Another thing I should do more.
Here's a picture of Lyn and me, as Velma and Ginger of course.
Monday, February 16, 2009
...some Fun that is Funny...
After feeling sorry for myself this weekend for a rather stupid reason (not winning a short story contest), my poor little son ends up with Influenza B. There's nothing like a sick child to make you realize what's really important. Anyway, the 48-pounder seems to be rebounding as he is currently working on one of his "projects" right now.
Anyway, God continued to confirm the pettiness of my self-pity, by a few other events. Today our Bank celebrated President's Day with an all-staff meeting. One of our presentations came from Alegent's EAP program and was entitled, "Using Humor in the Workplace." Truth be told, our staff probably needed that presentation as much as a child needs candy. Cleverly, our presenter had sprinkled some humor through the slideshow, but for some reason kept fast-forwarding through the jokes -- the parts we were all waiting for. We didn't care about the facts(laughing has health benefits, humor reduces stress, yada yada yada.) Get to the good stuff! Give us George Costanza's advice on looking busy at work!
But seriously, our presenter quizzed us on our own humor development. What type of household were you brought up in? What kind of humor was used? What comedies did you watch? Red Skelton? Johnny Carson? Did your Dad play practical jokes!
Not my family.
Oh, sure. We dabbled in the usual bathroom humor that all families enjoy. "Did you hear that fart?" "No, but I smell it!") But we also dabbled in something I would describe as offbeat, on the cusp of morbid, fairly dry and not without sarcasm.
My Dad was near-genius on the art of the game. For those of you who read Goodbye Def Leppard, do you remember the scene when Amy's Dad challenges her to a quick match of the Dead Game? When she must guess the ages of those who died in the paper? Well, that ain't no fiction. It was a common game played (at least twice a week)in the Ronfeldt household.
My Dad also liked to mimic Name That Tune. We played it with a few of my beginner piano songs. After picking a song (without my Dad's help...ahem), Mom and Dad challenged each other with those delicious words, "Sandy, I can name that tune in....notes" Amazingly, my Dad could guess 'Mister Frog is Full of Hops' in one single note.
Mom has always said that humor not only kept their marriage alive -- it saved it. I never really understood what she meant. But now that I've been married for almost 15 years, it's one of those quotes that recurs in my mind frequently. I'd argue that it doesn't only save marriages, but entire families as well. See here? Alex and Cole get it. Of course, kids always do.
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Anyway, God continued to confirm the pettiness of my self-pity, by a few other events. Today our Bank celebrated President's Day with an all-staff meeting. One of our presentations came from Alegent's EAP program and was entitled, "Using Humor in the Workplace." Truth be told, our staff probably needed that presentation as much as a child needs candy. Cleverly, our presenter had sprinkled some humor through the slideshow, but for some reason kept fast-forwarding through the jokes -- the parts we were all waiting for. We didn't care about the facts(laughing has health benefits, humor reduces stress, yada yada yada.) Get to the good stuff! Give us George Costanza's advice on looking busy at work!
But seriously, our presenter quizzed us on our own humor development. What type of household were you brought up in? What kind of humor was used? What comedies did you watch? Red Skelton? Johnny Carson? Did your Dad play practical jokes!
Not my family.
Oh, sure. We dabbled in the usual bathroom humor that all families enjoy. "Did you hear that fart?" "No, but I smell it!") But we also dabbled in something I would describe as offbeat, on the cusp of morbid, fairly dry and not without sarcasm.
My Dad was near-genius on the art of the game. For those of you who read Goodbye Def Leppard, do you remember the scene when Amy's Dad challenges her to a quick match of the Dead Game? When she must guess the ages of those who died in the paper? Well, that ain't no fiction. It was a common game played (at least twice a week)in the Ronfeldt household.
My Dad also liked to mimic Name That Tune. We played it with a few of my beginner piano songs. After picking a song (without my Dad's help...ahem), Mom and Dad challenged each other with those delicious words, "Sandy, I can name that tune in....notes" Amazingly, my Dad could guess 'Mister Frog is Full of Hops' in one single note.
Mom has always said that humor not only kept their marriage alive -- it saved it. I never really understood what she meant. But now that I've been married for almost 15 years, it's one of those quotes that recurs in my mind frequently. I'd argue that it doesn't only save marriages, but entire families as well. See here? Alex and Cole get it. Of course, kids always do.
.jpg)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Leaders, Valentine's, Trains and AMEN!
I've a bazillion blogs teasing my brain, but I'm too squirrely to give any one topic much attention. So here goes...
I've been teaching some classes on leadership lately. It'd do me good to follow some of my own advice. It also do some good to have a few scandalously-paid executives of failed banks to attend. Although, realistically, I'm not sure that the class can dissolve greed.
I thought it was weird that the school decided not to have a Valentine's Day party this year. So, what in the world would convince me to take Cole's word for it? (Imagine when he's sixteen!)So, as I prepared to pick up the mundane cartoon-ugly-dog valentines from the picked over v-day selection, I was pleasantly surprised to find The Hulk collection. (I purchased an adorable group of Fairy cards for Alex, only to discover that 6th graders don't do that anymore.)
Aren't trains amazing? As I was trucking to Fremont yesterday, I found myself racing against the K-Line and the U.P., staring at the mass of iron, attempting to count the cars and still impressed how the iron horse continues to be a vital part of our economy.
And finally, the best news of all? Grandma Shirley got news today that the cancerous grapefruit removed from her intestines did NOT leave one lick of cancer behind. She is completely cancer-free! Amen. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Grandma Shirley and My Inherited Love for Animals
You know my cool Grandma with the tattoo? The one who plays guitar? The one I don't visit near often enough? Please keep her in your prayers as she is recovering from surgery.A large mass was removed from her intestines. We haven't heard the full report from the pathologist, so I can't tell you much more except that we're all worried.
Anyway, while I hate the fact that it always seems to take a misfortune to bring families together, it's been fun seeing three of my aunts -- Sandy, Kim and Angie. (Aunt Connie was hosting my parents in Phoenix, who were all sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the results of the operation.)
The Ronfeldt side of the family are great lovers of animals. (Perhaps this was what attracted my mother to the clan??) Anyway, my husband's affection for pets can best be described as 'tolerant.' As a matter of fact, our first real fight occurred after I brought a kitten home. And luckily, I found our dog by the bridge on a day when a few cocktails made Doug's heart soft for the abandoned pup. (That was 14 years ago, and we still have the 'pup'.) Anyway, I once picked up a Brittany Spaniel off the Interstate and brought it home. Doug absolutely refused another dog on the place -- luckily I worked with someone who knew of a Brittany Spaniel shelter. Another time, we found another black dog, mysteriously living with us. The destructive Lab bought a ticket to the shelter in Harlan. Anyway, Doug thinks I'm a little cuckoo when it comes to animals. So, after sitting in waiting rooms with my kin this weekend, I think Doug grew a deeper appreciation for my animal affection.
Aunt Sandy just got her fourth dog -- some sort of hairless Chihauhua that walks on its two hind feet.
Aunt Angie has four ferrets, and I lost count of the number of dogs she also owns.
Aunt Kim only has one dog, she refers to as Stupid Dog, but she also lives in an apartment.
My first cousin-once-removed (my cousin's son) has some sort of lizard, a python, a cat and a tarantula. I think he still has the tarantula anyway. There might have been a few other exotic species, but I couldn't quit thinking about the python as they spoke.
Of course my Grandma and step-Grandpa has a dog, who now looks more like a pot-belly pig. But she sure is a sweetie.
Anyway, who couldn't love a family as interesting and loving as mine? They remind me that the most important thing we can do is laugh and love each other while we're here. They also reinforce that just because we have a senile dog, a tomcat who thinks he's a female dog, a stray cat who resembles Shrek, and a rat-like hamster, we're not really crazy. We just like to laugh and love.
God Bless You, Grandma.
Anyway, while I hate the fact that it always seems to take a misfortune to bring families together, it's been fun seeing three of my aunts -- Sandy, Kim and Angie. (Aunt Connie was hosting my parents in Phoenix, who were all sitting on pins and needles, waiting for the results of the operation.)
The Ronfeldt side of the family are great lovers of animals. (Perhaps this was what attracted my mother to the clan??) Anyway, my husband's affection for pets can best be described as 'tolerant.' As a matter of fact, our first real fight occurred after I brought a kitten home. And luckily, I found our dog by the bridge on a day when a few cocktails made Doug's heart soft for the abandoned pup. (That was 14 years ago, and we still have the 'pup'.) Anyway, I once picked up a Brittany Spaniel off the Interstate and brought it home. Doug absolutely refused another dog on the place -- luckily I worked with someone who knew of a Brittany Spaniel shelter. Another time, we found another black dog, mysteriously living with us. The destructive Lab bought a ticket to the shelter in Harlan. Anyway, Doug thinks I'm a little cuckoo when it comes to animals. So, after sitting in waiting rooms with my kin this weekend, I think Doug grew a deeper appreciation for my animal affection.
Aunt Sandy just got her fourth dog -- some sort of hairless Chihauhua that walks on its two hind feet.
Aunt Angie has four ferrets, and I lost count of the number of dogs she also owns.
Aunt Kim only has one dog, she refers to as Stupid Dog, but she also lives in an apartment.
My first cousin-once-removed (my cousin's son) has some sort of lizard, a python, a cat and a tarantula. I think he still has the tarantula anyway. There might have been a few other exotic species, but I couldn't quit thinking about the python as they spoke.
Of course my Grandma and step-Grandpa has a dog, who now looks more like a pot-belly pig. But she sure is a sweetie.
Anyway, who couldn't love a family as interesting and loving as mine? They remind me that the most important thing we can do is laugh and love each other while we're here. They also reinforce that just because we have a senile dog, a tomcat who thinks he's a female dog, a stray cat who resembles Shrek, and a rat-like hamster, we're not really crazy. We just like to laugh and love.
God Bless You, Grandma.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Clash
No, this posting is not about a punk band from the 70's. It's about a fashion rule...a rule that challenges this particular generation x'er who strives very hard not to be frumpy or out-dated. (I know my daughter finds this hard to believe with my love for turtlenecks which has everything to do with my quest for warmth.)
As many of you know, I'm an avid watcher of What Not to Wear. So, I've learned that it's okay to wear brown shoes with a black shirt, or red shoes with a purple dress, or beige pants with a white shirt. I know this, yes. Yes, I know this.
Then why do my mornings go like this?
Underwear...solid or stripe? color or neutral? Now which bra goes best?(Seriously, who do I think I am? A stripper? Who's gonna see me?) Anyway, back to my daily task...Shoes? Basically I teeter between black and brown, eventhough I do actually own some red and silver footwear. Now, pants or skirt? Generally, I'm still in neutral territory once my bottom half is covered. But when I turn to my upper-half, the color war begins and my mind is thrown into a nonstop whirl of panic. What shirt to wear with what jacket or sweater? Blue and green? Purple and red? Pink and orange? How about this navy jacket? But I'm wearing black pants! Oh, the torture. Shouldn't this be easy now that we have no limitations in the color wheel of fashion? First, it's white after Labor Day. Now it's whatever, whenever!
Perhaps I should begin watching my daughter more closely after all those years of pointing out her inability to "match up her outfit". Here she is, in purple suede boots, a red Coke t-shirt and a white sateen peasant top. Who'd a thunk? Apparently, she's got it. (Even when she's playing dress-up, like the photo above indicates...)
But she'd do good to add turtleneck to her wardrobe...
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Women: Unite for Happiness!
There's a fairly high chance that this blog will be disjointed, similar to the chaos in my mind as we scramble to keep up with the general commotion that goes along with the banking world in January. (Not to mention that my boss, the president, resigned, the holding company handed out a different set of goals and we now need to completely revamp our strategic plan for 2009.) Anyway, today my general topic is on happiness. Here are a few thoughts:
1. There seems to be a direct correlation between a man's happiness and his ability to poop.
2. Doug asked me why I was so unhappy lately. Actually, it didn't even occur to me that I was unhappy. I've been too busy to think about it.
3. Friendships are critical to my daughter's state of happiness...no matter how much time she gets to spend with her cool mom.
4. My son is happy as long as he is not sitting still.
5. Coming home to a clean kitchen makes me smile.
6. Apparently, I was much happier as a teen. Mom was relating a story about me, in high school, being observed by another mother on how sweet I was. When I interjected, "What happened to me then?" Mom immediately confirmed the transformation of my posture. "Oh, I know," she replied, "Oprah just had an episode about hormones in your thirties and forties. You need to watch it." Touche'.
7. I stopped eating peanut butter the other day. The salmonella poisoning should start correcting itself soon. That will definitely make me happier.
Actually, I've always said that happiness is a choice, much to the irritation of others. So, I'm going to check out Oprah.com and figure out how to negotiate some happiness with my hormones. Wish me luck.
1. There seems to be a direct correlation between a man's happiness and his ability to poop.
2. Doug asked me why I was so unhappy lately. Actually, it didn't even occur to me that I was unhappy. I've been too busy to think about it.
3. Friendships are critical to my daughter's state of happiness...no matter how much time she gets to spend with her cool mom.
4. My son is happy as long as he is not sitting still.
5. Coming home to a clean kitchen makes me smile.
6. Apparently, I was much happier as a teen. Mom was relating a story about me, in high school, being observed by another mother on how sweet I was. When I interjected, "What happened to me then?" Mom immediately confirmed the transformation of my posture. "Oh, I know," she replied, "Oprah just had an episode about hormones in your thirties and forties. You need to watch it." Touche'.
7. I stopped eating peanut butter the other day. The salmonella poisoning should start correcting itself soon. That will definitely make me happier.
Actually, I've always said that happiness is a choice, much to the irritation of others. So, I'm going to check out Oprah.com and figure out how to negotiate some happiness with my hormones. Wish me luck.
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