Uncategorized – Toni L. Arends, Author

To My Best Friend

I will never be a great blogger, because if you haven’t noticed already, I’m very inconsistent. Bloggers need to put out their blog on an expected timeline, every week, or once a month, but something that their readers can follow and rely on. That’s not me.

I try. I have reminders set on my phone, reminders that pop up on my phone calendar, but I just ignore them like so many other things in my life now. Part of this has to do with my diagnosed PTSD* which is now my “best buddy” that I’d like to chuck off a bridge. Part of it comes from anxiety and panic attacks. Part of it comes from A.D.D. (or ADHD)** I’ve also had depression since my teens, so that tops it all off. I guess I truly am a bag of mixed nuts!

No matter what causes it, I know I’m not good at being consistent. Sadly, this also applies to my friends and especially my best friend. According to Facebook I have over 400 friends. I’m flattered to think I have that many, which is a low number for most people, but I’m not sure I actually know all of them.

I do appreciate that smaller group of “real” friends who take the time to like a photo I’ve put up or comment on something Jazzy has done. Those who actually take the time to pray for me when I’ve asked, or wish me a Happy Birthday. Those who offer hugs and prayers this time of year as Torri’s birthday approaches or when the day we lost her is here. I appreciate each and every one of you.

That brings me to my best friend. I’ve known her for over 40 years. We met right after Torri was born. She babysat for a nurse at Grundy Hospital who told her a lady had a baby girl and named her Torri. Why? Because she had a little boy named Tory. Not a name many children have, so it was a unique coincidence. After that she started a Coupon Club, something that was big in the 80’s. I went to a meeting and the rest as they say is history.

She learned I was that mom with the daughter named Torri and I met her son Tory. We hit it off immediately. We talked on the phone almost every day (back before cell phones) and got together whenever we could, she with 3 sons, me with 2 boys and 2 girls.

Then she moved out of state. Her husband got a much better job in Wisconsin and so my best friend moved away. We still talked on the phone and wrote each other letters (something people don’t do much today) but it was hard. We started meeting once a year before Christmas in Minnesota and went Christmas shopping together for our kids usually at the Mall of America. The time we had together was priceless! We laughed, we talked for hours on end, it was always a great time.

Speaking of time (see how I transitioned there) it has a way of interfering with even the best of friendships. Over the years as our children grew and our lives became busier with jobs and school and sports, our phone calls became less and less. She isn’t on any social media (shocking I know!) so I can’t keep up that way. We stopped meeting once a year. We stopped sending cards and letters. We stopped exchanging Christmas gifts. Life happened.

Over the years we have still supported each other through good times and bad. Attending graduations, weddings, and then funerals. Her mother died a couple of years ago and I went to the memorial service. This was pre-Covid. Her father died earlier this year and it was a private service. I had the best of intentions to send her a plant and a card. You know where the road of best intentions is paved. For some odd reason mailing things is now a major trigger for me. I still feel horrible about it and have only talked to her briefly since then. It’s one of those stupid triggers for me. There are so many lately.

I’ve called her a couple of times and left a message; she still works outside the home. I haven’t heard back. I don’t blame her. It’s very hard to be friends with someone who has as many “quirks” as I do. I’m a pretty crummy friend to have if you want one who calls you regularly, gets together for lunches or coffee/tea, keeps in touch. Surprisingly I’m not an Introvert, it’s just my anxieties, A.D.D., PTSD, panic attacks all ganging up on me that make me appear to be socially distant. I hate it.

Remember that vet visit the other day for Jazzy’s routine checkup and vaccinations? I almost cancelled it several times that morning. I was in full blown panic mode. Yes, just because I had to take my dog in for a routine checkup. It’s a major trigger for me. My heart rate goes way up, I feel like I can’t breathe, I even broke out with a “stress bump” right in the middle of my forehead for good measure. (Feel free to laugh, I did).

I find it almost impossible to actually call people and I’m not sure why. Often just making that once a week trip into town for groceries and errands seems like an insurmountable task. Thankfully I usually have Jazzy along to keep me company and she can also go along into many of the stores I go to. I wish she were a service dog, she keeps me calmer and my heart rate down.

So to my best friend, SJ, I hope I haven’t made you so irritated at me that it has ruined our long friendship, because that would truly make me sad. I know you put up with a LOT from being friends with me, as have so many other of my dear friends near and far. This is not a blog about excuses, but one of explanations from those of us who suffer with a variety of mental illnesses to those of you who don’t and often have trouble understanding our behavior. We get it. It’s not easy to like us, to deal with us, to have plans cancelled constantly or phone calls go unanswered.

Know that we are trying. We often lose friends, family, even jobs because of our “quirks”. If you are one of my many friends, thank you. Please know that I do think of you often.

And to my best friend, I’m sorry.

Stay safe and be kind to one another.

Until next time. (probably random)

Toni

*PTSD symptoms include reliving a traumatic event over and over through flashbacks, nightmares, or obsessive thinking about the event. People with PTSD might avoid situations that remind them of the event, feel nervous or on edge most of the time, and have negative emotions. Some of these symptoms might sound like PTS; however, the difference is how long the symptoms last and how intense they are. Symptoms of PTSD generally affect a person’s ability to complete activities of daily living.

(Google)

**Many adults with ADHD aren’t aware they have it — they just know that everyday tasks can be a challenge. Adults with ADHD may find it difficult to focus and prioritize, leading to missed deadlines and forgotten meetings or social plans. The inability to control impulses can range from impatience waiting in line or driving in traffic to mood swings and outbursts of anger.

Adult ADHD symptoms may include:

Impulsiveness
Disorganization and problems prioritizing
Poor time management skills
Problems focusing on a task
Trouble multitasking
Excessive activity or restlessness
Poor planning
Low frustration tolerance
Frequent mood swings
Problems following through and completing tasks
Hot temper
Trouble coping with stress

(Mayo Clinic)

Easter is Hard Sometimes

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays because it’s the day we celebrate Jesus’ sacrifice for us so that we may have eternal life. He conquered death for us. He took our sins on Him, so that we may live.

It’s also a very difficult holiday for me now. Easter was Torri’s favorite holiday. Torri wrote the blog post below about Good Friday. It’s hard for me to read, because now, almost 6 years later, we know what the results were. We know all the trials she went through, the surgeries, the pain and finally losing her in May of 2015.

But while it’s hard on me, I love her words of courage and faith. I hope they will bring comfort to others, to let them know that no matter what we face, God is always with us. That His plans for us are perfect even if we can’t see that. That in the very end of all things, all will be right.

I may not be able to put up all the Easter decorations that I used to or go all out in celebrating, but in my heart I am still glad of Easter and the message of love, eternity and hope that it carries. God loves us unconditionally and sacrificed His only son for us. That’s amazing love. May this message and the joy of Easter bless you and yours. Happy Easter.

(Photos are from 2013 from Torri’s blogs – http://wekeepitsunny.blogspot.com/2013/03/surrendering-on-good-friday.html)

Until next time…

Mask up, social distance, be kind.

Toni

Torri’s photo of a cross her and Willie made and put on their front window for Easter 2013.

FRIDAY, MARCH 29, 2013

Surrendering on Good Friday by Torri Arends Hennig

Today is Good Friday. I woke up to this sunny, beautiful morning!

But, I didn’t sleep well last night. I haven’t all week. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, praying, stressing, praying, thinking. On Wednesday afternoon, we received the results from my 3 month check up with the gyn/oncologist. The tests I had on Tuesday revealed some abnormal cells. The nurse stressed, “don’t worry, it’s not cancer”… they’re just abnormal. The oncologist wants to see me again in 3 weeks.

My initial reaction was: of course, it’s happening again, here we go. Ever since my initial cancer diagnoses 2 years ago, I’ve been waiting for this bad news. I have had good results every 3 months for 2 years. Every time it seems almost too good to be true. Could this nightmare really be over? A thing of the past? But then here’s that pessimistic whisper in the back of my head, saying, just wait for it. It will come back to haunt you.

My second reaction was to lay on the kitchen floor and cry. I can’t do this again, not again. It’s going to ruin all our plans. This is it, this is my story, the end of me. I was finally beginning to feel like I could breathe again, and now this. Back to square one…I just can’t…

But, I have to get up. How? Willie just woke up from his nap, he needs me. How? I can’t even move. I’ve got to stand up. I’ve go to live my life. How?

Like a zombie? That’s what I felt like Wednesday. I got up and I went through the motions. My mind was everywhere else…from my best case scenario to my worst case scenario and everything in between. Worrying, stressing, crying. Wondering about the Hows. And then I opened my email.

There in a daily devotional, was my answer. I can do this through Christ. That’s How. We can do all things through Him, who gives us strength. I must surrender myself. Like really, really do it this time. Finally, do it. It’s easy to say “I’ve surrendered”. It’s even easier to have the intentions of surrendering…down the road…when I’m not trying to get done what I want to get done in this life first. But, now here it is…looking right back at me. Saying, this is the answer, this is the time. It’s not on our terms.

And, that’s the hard part. It’s not on our terms. It’s on God’s terms. Does that mean everything will be ok? Essentially, yes, that’s exactly what it means. But…on my terms…everything being ok means that I’m healthy, that our family grows, and that this family remains together and that we are all healthy and safe. So, is this what God has in store for me and for us? I don’t know. Here is where faith steps in….or should I say barges in. When a regular afternoon turns into sobbing on the kitchen floor, there’s only one thing that can help you get back up. Faith. Faith in knowing that everything will be ok. It will. In the end, everything will fall into place and work perfectly. This may mean I get sick again, it may mean any number of other diseases or worldly disasters. But, there is a plan. And, I have faith in that.

There was a little prayer in this devotional email from Wednesday. After I read it, it’s all I could think about. I need to surrender my life to God. For real this time. If it is His will, let me be healed…but if not, then I am part of a bigger plan, and I am ok with that. This little idea (or huge really) had me laying awake at night. It’s a hard thing to think about and a hard thing to say out loud. But, the idea of saying it…or praying it…made me feel at peace…not so worried about the future. Because, in the end, it will be ok.

The devotional said: “Father, if this problem, pain, sickness, or circumstance is needed to fulfill your purpose and glory in my life or in another’s life, please don’t take it away!”

Wow. I get it. I’ve been praying and begging all this time, “heal me, heal me, heal me”. But, there’s so much more than that! It shot straight to my core, I finally get it. So, I carried this prayer around in my pocket for 3 days. Literally. I left the email open on my phone and looked at it from time to time. The original message was about Jesus and the great sacrifice on the cross. Even though Jesus got scared, in the end, He gave himself for us. And, that’s the most important lesson of all.

So, on this beautiful morning, I did it. I spent my time on my knees, as the warm sunshine fell in through the window, while Willie slept peacefully in bed and Brad was on his way to work. God and I had a little chat. And, I’m not gonna say that I’m not scared and that I don’t wonder what the future holds, what I will find out from the oncologist in 3 weeks. But, I will say that I’m ok. I’m really ok now.

(The original devotional can be found here at PurposeDriven)

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Boxing Up Valentine’s Day

I was a child in the 1960’s, (yes, I’m a dreaded Boomer)when things were simpler, or so it seems to me now. I suppose every generation thinks the same of their childhood. I’m sure some day some aging adult will look back at this decade and think, “wow, remember when we had cellphones! Like you actually had to hold this little device in your hand to call someone! Crazy!” Everything changes over time.

School seems like it was much simpler back in the 60’s to me as well, but again it’s all in your own perspective. We didn’t have computers to learn on, the playground toys were not as elaborate as the ones today. No one had figured out back then that merry-go-rounds, swinging gates and monkey bars were probably dangerous for small children to be playing on. Remember this was also a time when there were no seat belts in cars let alone car seats. Apparently children were more expendable back then.

One thing that hasn’t changed is some school traditions for children. Kids still bring birthday treats to school, they still have Christmas programs although I believe most now call them Winter programs, and they still have Valentine’s Day parties.

Valentine’s Day parties means you have to make a Valentine card box so all the kids in your class can deposit a card for you in it and hopefully there will be a sucker, some chocolate or other treat attached to that card. It also meant some of the mom’s would send along cupcakes and cookies for the class party and it was a wonderful day all around.

As a child I remember having to find a shoe box to decorate for Valentine’s day. First you would cut a slit in the lid of the box for other kids to drop your cards in. This is an important first step and one I often forgot. Then wrapping the box in aluminum foil to cover it, (we always had limited colored paper at home) I always liked the shine of aluminum foil anyway. Next cutting out pink, white and red hearts to glue all over my shoe box for the finishing touches! In a good year there may even be some glitter in the house that you could really bedazzle your box with. The box was all ready to go!

Later when I became the mother of four, I remember almost dreading Valentine’s Day! I had to help my four children at one time or another each construct a Valentine’s Day box. Boxes then were still fairly simple and still usually started with a shoe box, but the designs were beginning to be more complex. Kids wanted the box to actually “look” like something, not just be decorated. Usually it was still simple, a robot, a house, a castle, (toilet paper rolls were used with the shoe box) but it tested my skills as a mom. There were always those over achiever moms that sent their child to school with a masterpiece.

I also dreaded being on the list for sending class treats that day. My kids usually brought store bought cookies to school for their birthday treats, so on Valentine’s day it was usually store purchased cupcakes because we all know I can’t bake. It’s not a good look for a mom or her child to send store bought anything to school. People wrongly assume every mom is a baker. I’m sure other mom’s were judging me.

Today, I watch as my grandchildren make Valentine’s day boxes for their classroom parties. Ok, I watch as my children make them for their children, lets be honest. I’m proud of their skills and imagination, (my kids). I’ve also seen some young mom’s I know post photos on social media of some pretty amazing Valentine’s boxes they made for their little ones. I’m impressed with you over achievers. You’ve really taken Valentine’s day boxes to a new level! Now they are animals and characters and feats of design and engineering I could only imagine. Where do you get all that energy!

My heart, however, goes out to all of you mom’s who, like me, just have enough creativity in you to find a box, some colored paper, some glue and maybe a printed out design or two and help your child mash it all together so they have a box to take to school for the party. Kudos! I love you all!

Here is to all of the parents this week who have labored and cut, designed and glued, paper machéd and colored some type of Valentine day box for your children so they could have the same joy you did as a child of opening it up and discovering all the little cards and candies. Hopefully most of the cards have a treat taped on them, as we all know Valentine’s Day is really just about the chocolates.

Until next time!

Stay safe, wear a mask, social distance, BE KIND!

Toni

Left, Right, Write

I was born a lefty, or southpaw. From what I could glean off the internet, southpaw originated with left-handed baseball pitchers as pitchers typically faced West, (baseball diamonds were arranged so the batter would face East and not into the sun) so a left handed pitcher was throwing with the hand that was on the South side of his body. Hence, Southpaw. Internet history lesson for the day. You are welcome.

My mother was right-handed, dark haired, brown eyes. My father was ambidextrous, used his right hand the most, dark haired, green eyes. I took after my father in most ways including being born with green eyes (the only one out of us six kids) and left-handed. Which hand of yours is dominant is genetically linked. I want to say that one of my brothers is also a lefty, but I can’t remember anymore.

Being a left-handed person back in the mid-fifties, early sixties when I was growing up was not considered the "norm" in those days, and they tried their best to make you conform to the right way. There was apparently something “odd” about you and the world during that time period and long before, thought right-handed people were the only acceptable ones.

Going back to ancient history left-handers were considered to be evil. The word sinister derives from the word for left or left hand. History lesson two per the internet for the day.

I was one of those people that the world tried to conform to fit into what they thought I should be. While in kindergarten and throughout elementary school, I was not allowed to use my left hand as my dominant hand. I was taught to use scissors with my right hand. I was taught to write with my right hand.

My brain was geared to be a left-hander, so my body was thoroughly confused by this. I still blame my poor showing in most sports due to my brain’s confusion over my eye/hand coordination, which is hardwired into whichever hand your DNA made you. As I said, it’s genetics, Google it. Internet history lesson number three.

In elementary school I would often play baseball with the boys during recess and I was always the pitcher because I would naturally pitch with my left hand, making me a hard pitcher to hit against. I did not follow up that sport later on with softball as I found early on that neither one really appealed to me and still don’t to this day. My apologies to all you baseball fans. I may have been an awesome pitcher, the world will never know.

Growing up I would always naturally do things with my left hand and not even realize it. I would deal cards left-handed, open jars left-handed, throw balls left-handed. But I write right-handed, although it has a left-handed slant, or so I’ve often been told. It’s hard to fight genetics.

Out of my four children that I have produced (that sounds like such a manufacturing way to state that) two have green eyes like me, two have blue eyes like their father and one is a left-hander like me, although he has blue eyes. I can’t be perfect.

I did however split both, one son and one daughter with green eyes (oldest son, youngest daughter) and one daughter and one son with blue eyes (the two middle kids) so top that. And I had boy, girl, boy, girl exactly as I had wanted when I first dreamed about being a wife and a mother. Today I believe I may even have a grandchild or two that may prove to be left-handed. In my case God and genetics were very kind to me in my children and grandchildren. I’m very thankful.

Ok, enough about my children, this blog was, after all, about me. Over my teenage years I would make myself write left-handed until I got pretty good at it, although I didn’t like the way it looked. When you are a teenage girl the way your writing looks can be very important, at least it was in the seventies. Come to think of it, do children even put pencil to paper and actually write much now days? I worked hard on my penmanship in those days until I had this large loopy, curly writing that I deemed good enough to represent my style. Today I still write pretty similar to my teen years, so basically I have a teenagers handwriting.

When older age (is sixty really the new forty?) sets in, you begin to develop aches and pains that don’t go away and tend to make your life miserable. I like many my age, have some arthritis, mainly in my left knee, and my hands are not as strong as they once were, especially my left hand, which has always been my "go to" or dominant hand, despite them trying to "break me" as a child.

I also have a wonderful holdover injury from a previous crummy job I had in Parkersburg as an office manager where I had to also hand scan in the one owners family photos into the computer due to his supreme laziness. Because of all of the repetitive left-hand wrist motion (dominant hand thing again) I have since been plagued with what is called:

“De Quervain’s tendinosis or tendonitis – occurs when the tendons around the base of the thumb are irritated or constricted. The word "tendinosis" refers to a swelling of the tendons. Swelling of the tendons, and the tendon sheath, can cause pain and tenderness along the thumb side of the wrist. he most common cause of de Quervain’s tendinosis is chronic overuse of the wrist. Repetitive movements day after day cause irritation and pain.” (Source – Internet searches.)

I can tell you that it hurts like heck on bad days and that it takes all of the strength out of that hand. The main pain is in the palm area of my left hand just under the thumb. Now when I would normally try to open a jar left-handed, I have to try right-handed which is almost totally useless for those types of things. After all, sixty some years of not using my right hand for that is hard to change.

All my right hand has been trained for is well, writing. My left hand has carried out all the heavy tasks up until now and its an odd adjustment. Probably like when I was first taught to use scissors and write with my right hand instead of my left.

Now age and work injuries have brought me full circle and no I did not get any work comp or even any unemployment from that crook. At least his business is gone, so there’s that.

I’m happy to say that in today’s more inclusive and accepting world, we (former) left-handers are no longer shunned or taught to be right-handers. Hurray for progress and supply and demand. (Companies realized they could make money catering to left-handed people. Internet history lesson number four.)

Whatever you do, don’t try to force a child to go against whatever their birth dominant hand is. When they are learning new things like eating or picking up things, I have read that placing things in the middle is the best approach and letting them choose. When they are older and learning writing or even sports activities,don’t force them to use their non dominant hand to try to make them something else, like a sports pro for example. Their DNA knows which hand is the right one for them.

Here’s to all you leftys out there.

Until next time…

Toni

More Adventures on a Train – Part 3 The Final Chapter

We are still sitting in Denver station, now an hour past our departure time, when two policemen appear out on the platform. They board the train and follow the conductor upstairs. I have a feeling things are not going any better for the "hippie dude" on the upper level.

Another half an hour goes by and the policemen are now escorting "hippie dude" down the stairs and off the train along with his luggage. He was apparently causing more trouble in the upper level of the train because they don’t throw people off the train for no reason usually, but they also don’t hesitate to do so if you are breaking the rules or causing trouble.

I feel bad for the guy, he had told the conductor earlier he was going home for Thanksgiving. The loud woman (I’ll call her Chicago lady) is telling us all that he probably just needs his meds and how unfair it is that he was booted off the train and again how horrible children are. Wait, what? She’s defending him?

At this point I am confused, because I thought she was probably the person in our car who had complained about him that got him in trouble to begin with! After all she has been the very loud vocal person in this car since I first got on.

Apparently he had been singing out loud and someone in our car had complained to the conductor. Now the conductor came into our car and went and sat next to the woman in the back two seats with the three sick, coughing children. Aha! So she had been the one who had complained and that’s why Chicago lady has been so vocal about annoying children and their coughing.

Things were beginning to make more sense to me now. It helps to have all the facts as the Chicago lady continued to inform us again that she had been a bus driver and he probably forgot to take his medication and was confused. I was just beginning to be team Chicago lady but then she lost my empathy as she ranted on and on about the "horrible" crying, coughing children on the train spicing it up with a few choice swear words for good measure. Not cool. The kids had nothing to do with any of this.

The conductor left, not bothering to tell the rest of us anything, and everyone finally settled in.Thankfully the train started to move, we were now two hours behind schedule. Trains can make up a little time along the way, but not two hours. I had no visions of being on time to Ottumwa or home, I can’t make up two hours driving either.

The teenage boy across from me (he had mild autism his mother had told me) asked me if I had any dogs. I told him about Kutter and Jazzy and then shared some pictures of them. He was delighted. He told me all about his little dog waiting for him at home. His mother apologized for his talking my ear off and I assured her it was fine. It was much better than listening to the Chicago bus driver lady.

The kids all quieted down except for the constant coughing as they began playing their games and watching their movies. I realized that I was trapped in a train car for twelve hours with at least five strains of cold and or flu viruses, as I listened to each of them cough. One child in the back seats sounded like he had bronchitis at the very least. My immune system was really getting a workout on this train trip!

I tried to make myself comfortable and get my nap in. My brain would not settle down. It was calculating how many days it would be before I came down with one of those many cold germs I was trying not to breath in. I was also worried about "hippie dude" and if he would make it home for Thanksgiving! I had pulled the neck of my shirt up over my mouth and nose hoping it would act as some type of a germ filter, but I had my doubts. I probably looked like I had intentions of robbing the train as I tried to get snuggled in. Hopefully they wouldn’t toss me off the train next.

I drifted off to sleep and woke just as the sun was starting to rise. The train was still an hour behind so I let Brittney know I’d be late getting home to babysit and she’d have to miss one of her college classes. I ate my other banana, a little worse for wear having been smashed in the bottom of my red snack bag, a bottle of water and some peanut butter crackers for breakfast. The woman with the teenage boy had gotten off in Nebraska during the night.

Chicago lady was back on her cell phone loudly planning her Thanksgiving meal for all of us to hear. It makes holidays extra special when you plan the event by swearing at the people you plan to spend the holiday with, or so it seemed for her. I was beginning to wonder if she could speak a full sentence without using a curse word in it? Probably not.

Soon we were pulling into Ottumwa where it was announced it was the last smoking stop before Chicago. I’m always glad to see that Amtrak cares so much about the smokers.

I hefted my three bags on my shoulder, again regretting my choice of luggage and got ready to get off the train. The smokers were all lined up ahead of me ready to pounce out of the train and light them up! Chicago lady was behind me, although I could’t picture her pouncing off anything. Just what her disposition needed was a cigarette.

I trudged back down the sidewalk and across the grass to my car still parked in the creepy parking lot. At least it was morning and you didn’t feel quite as likely to get mugged or murdered on the way to or from your car. I put my extra shoes, leggings and top I had left behind back into my bag. My salad bowl was still there where I had set it, not looking too bad for sitting in the car for two days. I had a brief moment of wondering if the salad was still good. No, I didn’t try it. I try never to tempt fate, my luck is bad enough on its own.

The trip home was a quiet, pleasant drive and I spent a lot of it taking photos of various barns and farm buildings along the way. I couldn’t help but wonder again what happened to "hippie dude" and if he made it home for Thanksgiving.

Lets hope so.

Until next time…

Toni

More Adventures on A Train, Part 2

When we left off I was just boarding the train and had found out the "chatty" lady was going the same place I was.

As luck would have it for once, she boarded the train before me and so I was able to choose a seat behind her, which was also the very last seat in the car – my favorite. No one walks past you, ever, and you can set your bags behind the seats in the space between your seat and the wall of the train car.

When I went to settle in I noticed a coat in the seat, all kinds of luggage on the floor and a full 24 can box of pop under my seat. Shortly before the train left the station an older man came to claim his seat next to me, he must have been outside smoking as Ottumwa is a smoker stop. I guess I should have sat next to the chatty lady.

The very front seat on the left side was empty and so he decided to move all of his stuff up there, and thankfully I was left with 2 seats all to myself, although I was questioning if I looked odd and that’s why he moved. There was a person who I thought was a younger looking woman across from me in Superman PJ bottoms and a hoodie sweatshirt with her hood pulled up working on her laptop.

There is a very quiet older woman sitting across the aisle from the chatty woman who I have now learned is actually 82 because she is talking the ear off of her, the poor dear. There is a very old gentleman sitting across from smoker guy in the very front.

Behind him is a very tiny older lady and across from her is another older lady who is sleeping. Each of us has a double seat to relax in now, so we are all good. If no one else boards in the lower level it will be wonderful.

I decided to take my nap and when I woke a couple hours later, the young woman across from me turned out to be a very nice young man in Superman PJ’s. I really need to get new glasses! He was on the train to Denver and back to write some dissertation for his college doctorate or something very collegy sounding.

He was from Chicago, had twin 7 year olds and his wife had thought it was a great idea for him to take the Amtrak to Denver and back so he could work in quiet on his paper. I can’t imagine having the money just to ride Amtrak somewhere and back to work on my writing! What a great idea though.

I was not able to get a lot of sleep that night as I was exposed to about six strains of colds. It turned out all of the other passengers in our car except me and Mr Chicago were coughing all night, although one may have been a smokers cough.

The train was now running two hours behind and when I finally arrived in Denver Brad and Willie were there waiting at the curb for me, so no breakfast at the station. Oh well.

I had a great time in Denver celebrating Willie’s 9th birthday although it is always bitter sweet for me wishing that Torri was there too. Saturday flew by as I had to get back on the train Sunday evening so was only in Denver a day and a half!

Sunday Brad and Willie dropped me off at the station a few hours before the train was to arrive and later in typical Amtrak fashion, it was a half an hour late.

Willie and I always have very heartfelt and tearful goodbyes but we are both working on it and getting a little better each time, both of us trying to be brave. We really miss being with each other as we lived together for so long, its always hard to be apart. He looks just like his mom, Torri, and has her kind gentle heart. I always miss him so much and wish I could see him more often, my whole family does.

When I boarded the train I took a seat to myself in the very front and hoped no one else was getting on the lower level. For the upper deck they were assigning seats out on the platform before we boarded as the train was packed full. They rarely assign seats and its never a good sign. At least they don’t usually do that in the lower cars, as there are only four rows of double seats, sixteen passengers is the limit.

A mom and her teenage son boarded our car and wanted to sit together as she explained to the conductor, so I said I would move so they could. I took a seat behind them where there was luggage and belongings strung all over the seats and floor. I didn’t touch any of their stuff and tried to settle in.

This HUGE woman approached me and I stood up and let her into the seat next to me. I am not a small person by any means but she was at least twice my size and spilled over onto a fourth of my seat. She was grumbling and complaining from the get go and was saying how much she disliked children. Oh great. There were three young kids and their mom in the back two seats, the mother and her teenage son who I later found had a mild autism, and another mother with a young disabled child across from us.

When I got on the conductors were arguing with a white bearded "hippie" dude who looked to be about ten years older than me, telling him he had to go sit upstairs or get off the train. He had been sitting in the seat across from me and the huge woman and the woman with the disabled child had been sitting in the seat in front of him. He finally gave in and took his bag with him and went upstairs with a conductor following him. The lady with the disabled child moved their belongings into his seat across from us so she’d have a tray to set up her laptop so her little boy could watch movies. He was not happy, had been crying and the large lady next to me kept complaining about all the children. I didn’t connect the two things at the time, but this will make more sense later.

Now there was a seat available in the very front, which no one likes those seats as they don’t have any type of tray that comes down in front of them and no foot rests, but I figured it would be worth it not to have the woman next to me complaining and crushing me all night, so I grabbed my two bags and moved into it. This put me across from the lady and her teenage son who I had given up my seat for.

Almost all of the tickets above each person say CHI which means they are heading for Chicago which means I will be with them all the way to Ottumwa. Lucky me.

It looks as though no more passengers are boarding the train and yet we continue to sit still in the station. Nothing is being announced either. The large woman is now complaining about children crying as the little guy behind me is still not a happy camper and his poor mom is doing her best. I feel sorry for her and wish I could be helpful. I hear a movie start behind me and he quiets down, the large woman does not.

She pulls out her cell phone and we all get to hear her very loud conversation with someone about not buying candy for the boys and the boys drink all the milk so some little girl (her granddaughter?) never gets any and then all the things she needs that person to go buy before she gets home. Then she loudly talks about her being a city bus driver in Chicago for years and I shudder to think that she had a job around other people. Its why I don’t ride buses.

We are now over an hour late leaving the station when suddenly two policemen appear on the platform…

End of Part 2

Stay tuned for the third and final chapter coming soon!

Until next time…

Toni

The Perfect Christmas Tree

It has been our family tradition of going to a Christmas tree farm and cutting down our own selected Christmas tree since the first year Jay and I were married 43 years ago.

Both of our families had artificial Christmas trees growing up (although my family may have had a few real trees growing up, my memory has faded) and I guess we both liked the idea of starting our own family tradition of a real pine tree.

Each year we would go to a tree farm, walk around the lot full of trees and choose the “perfect” Christmas tree that would hold all of our ornaments. Some years we got taller, fuller trees that sat on the floor and nearly touched the ceiling, other years we would get a shorter fatter tree that would sit on top of our coffee table. The size of the tree would also often reflect how good or bad of a financial year we were having, so every so often we would have a smaller than usual tree.

There were a few years when the tree farms would sell out early and we would have to send Jay to the local tree lots in town in front of some hardware store or flower shop to bring home an already cut tree, and I will admit those trees never seemed quite as special as the ones we picked out as a family and cut down ourselves. By "ourselves" I mean Jay laying on the ground sawing down the tree, but we were there cheering his efforts on.

There was one Christmas that we just used one of the many artificial trees that I have around the house for decorations as our main Christmas tree. It was the first Christmas after we lost our daughter Torri to cancer. We just didn’t have the heart that year to go hunting for a real tree. It was the saddest Christmas ever and the tree reflected that grief. We still miss her terribly, but in her memory we have worked hard to bring back the joys of her favorite holiday.

The weather is usually horrible on the day we pick to go tree shopping. It’s either snowing or blowing, freezing cold, or all three, but not this year. This year there was no snow on the ground and the temps were mild and getting warmer each day.

Most years when I walk around the tree farm, I have this uncanny knack for tripping over the little tree stumps left by other trees that were cut down, or tripping over a dirt clod in the path. My fall is usually very slow and apparently hilarious to my children because it is always followed by me bouncing on the ground and all of them breaking into laughter. It has almost become as much of a family tradition as cutting down the tree.

We had to switch the tree farm we were first going to go to this year as they had closed already, no more trees left. We didn’t have everyone with us either, it’s hard to do now days with some living out of state and then there is the whole “whose weekend is it to have the kids” thing that seems to haunt our family.

Our youngest daughter Brittney and her two children were going to go with us, son Josh wasn’t able to and son Jason is in Missouri. I piled in the van with my daughter and kids and Jay drove his truck to use to haul our tree home. Off we went! We had a minor stop to coordinate the GPS’s and make sure we were indeed on the correct road, that confirmed, we continued on our quest for the perfect Christmas tree.

We got to the tree farm about an hour before they were to close. It was a cold clear late afternoon and we parked the vehicles at the sales shed and started walking down the dirt road and onto the paths in search of the “perfect” tree. Each of us pointing out the good qualities of this tree or that tree, but each tree falling just short of the perfect tree. We walked on and on going further and further back into the tree farm.

I carefully stepped over each little tree stump and focused on not falling down this year. We made it all the way to the back where the trees ended that were for sale. We had been told we could cut down any tree bearing a white tag on it, not any with bright pink reserved tags on them, nothing was said about no tag but we assumed those were the little ones that were not ready to go.

As we turned and headed back we noticed this beautiful almost 7 foot tall tree standing there like a shining beacon. It was almost perfectly rounded, no big bald spots, no wonky tree top – was this the perfect tree! My grandson ran up to it and declared it so and we all agreed! We had found the perfect tree!

We looked all over the tree to spot the white tag showing it was one of the trees for sale and was not a reserved tree. It was standing next to several others it’s height, although each were a bit flawed, but we could not find any white tag on it. There was no reserved tags either and nothing on the tree at all that said not to cut it. The tree had no tags that we could find.

Now we were faced with a real dilemma! We had found the perfect tree but there was no white tag on it. Being the critical thinkers that we are, we solved the problem by carefully removing the white tag from the tall tree next to it, so that we would be paying the correct price for the tree as they charge by the height of it, and placed it ever so carefully on our tree, the perfect tree. Problem solved.

Jay crawled under the tree and sawed it off and then hefted it over his shoulder, the tree saw in the other hand and we marched our way back down the path to the tree shed to pay for our perfect tree. We were singing praises to our tree along the way and the grand-kids were giddy with excitement to go home and decorate such a wonderful tree.

Tree paid for, hot chocolates all around, petting of the big yellow lab that was laying in the shed by the fireplace done. Time to get back into the vehicles and drive home and decorate the tree and cut out sugar cookies.

Jay had to make a stop in town first on his way home. The tree was laying in the back of his pickup and we were nervous some villain would snatch our perfect tree out of his truck while he was in the store, but I’m here to report both made it home safely.

I must say that our little bit of “larceny” has not taken away from the beauty and pleasure of this years Christmas tree at all! It stands tall and gracious in the living room, the ornaments hung and then re-hung after the grand-kids left (my OCD working overtime). It is another beautiful tree in a long line of traditional trees at our family

Christmas. Our dream has always been to buy a live tree that we could then plant on our farm after Christmas, but so far our dream of owning our own place is yet to be realized. Maybe someday. For now, I am enjoying the perfect tree.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanza, Happy Holidays to you and yours!

Until next time…

Toni

More Adventures on a Train – Part 1

The older I get the less I like to drive at night, so the earlier I arrive at the train station during the Fall when the sun sets around 4 pm. It’s true I have driven to Ottumwa, IA several times to board the Amtrak train, but it’s also true that without my GPS Waze program aka Betty (the voice of a British female) I would get hopelessly lost. I know I take highway 21 south for most of the trip, after that, it’s a blur. Some parts of the trip look familiar to me as I’m driving along and other parts I feel like Betty is routing me in a new direction every time I drive there.

The train leaves Ottumwa for Denver, CO and other parts west of there at approximately 7:10 pm. At least that’s what Amtrak posts. The reality of the California Zephyr is that it is almost always late coming out of Chicago. I don’t know why, but I know that their 7:10 pm arrival time is pretty much a fantasy. Me being the ever hopeful optimist that I try to be, still arrive an hour or more earlier than the train is to arrive. In the Fall when the sun sets early, that means I usually arrive around 4 or 4:30 pm and sit in the train station and wait.

The day I was to depart for a quick trip to Denver and back to celebrate grandson Willie Jay’s 9th birthday, I was having packing problems. It seems that whenever I take a really short trip, the harder it is for me to pack. I didn’t want to take my usual suitcase on wheels which is great for going through train stations, but for this trip it felt like overkill for my few clothes. I have a gym bag (Torri’s old one, I’ve never owned one, in case that isn’t obvious) so I finally decided on that bag even though it meant I’d be carrying my bag everywhere. I was wishing I had one of those small under seat carry on

bags that are also on wheels, that would have been perfect.

I was leaving on Friday evening, arriving in Denver Saturday morning and heading back home Sunday night and arriving in Iowa Monday so I could babysit as Brittney had college classes, so I really didn’t need much for clothing, or at least that was the initial plan. Somehow I ended up stuffing that poor gym bag to the gills! Then there is the all important snack bag because it is a 12 hour train ride after all! Yes, there is a nice dining car and even a snack car but the prices are like those in movie theaters, $4.00 for a bottle of water, $3 for a small bag of chips, so its better to carry on your own food. I have a red bag that has been my "carry on" bag on my train trips for years, it is also my snack bag.

I had just purchased a new salad bowl from a company that makes lots of take along food savers and starts with a T, so I put in my salad, dressing and toppings in it and set my bowl on the table. I put 2 bananas in my snack bag, PB crackers, a few mini almond joy candies, bottles of water and to be safe, a chocolate cream filled cupcake, because, its cake.

While panic packing that morning I was also trying to get a few last minute household things taken care of and making sure I left a detailed note for Jay on the care and feeding of our two dogs. Ok mostly feeding instructions, he knows how to take care of them, but he doesn’t know who gets which bowl or which bag of dog food is which dogs. At this point both mentioned dogs are now underfoot following me all around the house and eyeing the gym bag and snack bag with suspicion. Kutter knows the signs of when I’m leaving, Jazzy is just starting to catch on.

I was doing all this on Friday morning before Brittney’s two little ones come here for me to babysit while she goes to her college classes. I should have done this the night before, but here I was, as usual. The plan was for me to leave here after babysitting around 1:00 – 1:15 pm at the latest, giving me plenty of time to drive to Ottumwa and beat the sunset. In reality I left at almost 2:00 pm which meant that I would just make it before the sun set at 4:48 pm that day, and yes, I had checked.

The drive itself down there was blessedly uneventful and it was a warm 40 F day after a blast of winter the week before. There was more traffic than I usually see on old highway 21, but I chalked that up to it being a Friday.

I hadn’t made myself lunch before I left and I should have, but I always think there will be some place to grab something along the way. You pass through several small towns, but the reality is your choice is either Caseys or Kwik Star and I was not in the mood for gas station food, I have my standards, some days at least.

I arrived in Ottumwa at about 4:30 pm, the 2 1/2 hours that my GPS Betty had predicted. Good job Betty. I was certain I would arrive a little sooner as I averaged at least 5-7 miles an hour over the posted speed limit, but no luck. Somehow my GPS must factor this all in.

Food was now my first priority since I had skipped lunch, so I headed to the area of town where I knew there were some fast food places and it wasn’t far from the train station. I entered Arby’s into my GPS and Betty asked me if I wanted to go there now? Yes ma’am!

The sun was setting as I drove over there and I was greeted by an Arby’s, KFC, Burger King and a couple others in the area but decided to stay with my first choice as I was feeling pre-Thanksgiving and wanted a turkey sandwich.

If you’ve been following my posts at all, you know two things about this: how I usually have problems with my Turkey Bacon Ranch sandwiches at Arbys, and you also know that I now have a very serious acid re-flux problem, so no spicy foods, tomatoes (ew anyway) onions, etc. I ordered it my usual way, no tomatoes, no cheese with an order of their curly fries and the new cinnamuffin for breakfast tomorrow morning on the train.

I drove over to the train station and parked on the nice parking lot side of it which for some reason you can’t leave your car overnight when you take the train. You have to park on the other side way down the tracks from the station building behind a sketchy looking apartment building on some gravel near the tracks and walk back down a sidewalk to the station. I always feel like I’m going to be attacked when I park there at night.

I had plenty of time to move my car, it was just 5:00 pm. I walked up to the doors of the building expecting them to be open, and they were locked. I walked around to the other side, and those were locked also. You are told by Amtrak to arrive an hour early before the train is to arrive, granted I was very early but I didn’t think the building would be locked. Guess I was eating in my car.

I popped a couple of curly fries into my mouth and immediately regretted my choice. I had forgotten that they are spicy and I started getting a bad reaction to them. Great, another food to cross off my ever increasing list. Then I took a bite of my sandwich, perfectly made for once I might add and realized my error there too. I had forgotten to say no onions, so had to pick those all off and the bacon is a pepper bacon, pepper being one of the main spices that sets off my re-flux! Curses! So basically I was now eating a turkey and lettuce sandwich with bottled water to drink for my lunch-supper (lunper?) I could have made this at home and saved myself some money.

I chatted on the phone a while and then at 6:15 I drove around to the creepy side of the building where you are allowed to park overnight. I had decided to dig out an extra pair of shoes I had packed in my gym bag realizing that I didn’t need 2 pairs of shoes along for basically a day and a half. I also tossed out a pair of leggings and a top. The bag zipped easier now. I had to leave my salad behind because it was too big to fit into my already overstuffed bags. I should have just eaten that for supper instead of getting a sandwich. I layered on my light fall coat over my zip up sweater as I had no clue what to take along for a coat.

I hefted the gym bag on my shoulder first along with my regular purse which I’d mostly emptied out for the trip although it still weighed a ton. Next came the snack bag. It was hard to keep all the straps on my shoulders due to the multi clothing layers. I was really regretting my decision not to use my suitcase on wheels.

The doors to the station were now open and the station master, do they still call them that, was a bored looking middle aged man reading a book behind an old wooden desk. There was a lady sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chairs that line the walls who I guessed to be just a few years older than me, later I’d learn she was 82, I never would have guessed that!

We started talking and I helped her figure out how to mute the sound of her games on her phone (the volume button) after the station master had told her she needed to turn down the volume. She then proceeded to chat my ears off and normally I am happy to engage in friendly conversation with total strangers but I’d only gotten a couple of hours of sleep the night before and had been looking forward to some quiet time followed by a long nap on the train.

Right before the train pulled into the station I learned she was also going to Denver and lucky me, she was also riding in the lower level. I figured then I’d probably end up with her as a seat mate, ending my dream of a quiet nap.

End of Part 1…

Until next time…

Toni

The Right Stuff

(From "Nama TT’s Corner" blog post)

11-1-2012

I love Pinterest! I can sit and look at all of these wonderful recipes that I will never ever make and pin them onto my boards that I will probably never look at again. It’s wonderful! Recently I had seen several pins for a Wendy’s Frosty knock off recipe and had saved a few of the pins myself. While in town running errands I decided to get the ingredients to try to make one of them, being the "Betty Crocker" type person that I am. It was

only about 40 F out and the wind was cold, but for me, it’s never too cold out for a Wendy’s Frosty. Before I continue, let me point out to those of you who are "city dwellers" and may be unaware, that when you live in the country there is no walking to the local grocery. I don’t even know anyone nearby with the stamina to venture in to town by bicycle to shop! We must drive there by car or truck, (some may go by tractor), it just makes sense, especially since most of us live on gravel roads.

Everything you need involves "going to town" – never city, we just never say city, unless you mean Chicago or New York – it’s always town – no matter the size – trust me. "Town" might be 3-5 miles away, or 15-30 miles, depending on where you live. It may be more for you but this is about me and where I live.

It will also depend on what you need as to which "town" you are driving to. For instance, if I just need to go to the Post Office, I drive the 3 miles into my local town, just making sure that it is not between 11-1 because I think that is when they are closed. If I need gas, same thing goes, plus that is usually about as far as I can make first anyway because my gas gauge is constantly pointing below empty. If I need anything else, then it is the 15-20 mile trip into the larger "towns" that contain the many grocery stores, shopping malls, etc. that one may need. My local town no longer has a grocery store, most small towns don’t now days, we have a gas station with a few over-priced groceries in it. So while running my errands I wanted to make sure I had all the right stuff to make a Wendy’s Frosty, which are without a doubt my favorite chocolate "ice cream" drink. They are not too dark chocolate, or too light, or too sweet, or too creamy – they are perfect! I actually met a woman while running errands that had NEVER had a Frosty! She looked to be a few years older than me, so of course I instructed her to "get thyself to a Wendy’s lady!" Don’t even ask why I was talking about Frosty’s – it just happened. I was also SO proud of myself for getting on my phone (which I might point out was actually working- again another story, another day) looked up a couple of the pins and checked out the recipes so that I was sure I had all of the ingredients. I know, right? I ended up with a "few" more groceries than I had needed, but then who doesn’t and headed for home. The recipe was really quite simple, Chocolate Milk, Cool Whip, Sweetened Condensed Milk. Got it! Then a thought occurred to me as I was nearing the edge of town, how was one to really know it was "just like Wendy’s" as all the various pinners claimed if one did not have a real Frosty to compare it with? So in the interest of true science, I made a quick pit stop at Wendy’s drive through and got a chocolate Frosty. Now off to home, ready to do this thing the right way! After putting away all the grocery items I didn’t need, I pulled up the recipe for the knock off Frosty. After several sips of the true Wendy’s Frosty I was ready to begin! I started to read all the recipes instructions so that I would dump things together in the right order – which normally I don’t do. I usually just start opening and dumping and then read – often seeing that I did something wrong! But this was a FROSTY! I was taking extra care to do this recipe right so that I might be rewarded with a home made version! A;so I didn’t have enough gas left for another trip into town should this fail. Things were looking good until I came to about the middle of the recipe, the part that said "pour cooled mixture into your ice cream machine"! WHAT???!!! It requires an ice cream machine!! I pause for a moment to reflect here: WHY I didn’t think it may require an ice cream machine and that you could simply pour 3 ingredients into a bowl, whip it a bit with a mixer and end up with a Frosty is beyond even me, but there you have it. Yes, we do own an ice cream machine, but that is my husbands area of expertise. I don’t even know where it is, let alone have I ever used it. So there it was, no frosty recipe trials for me. Sadly I put all the ingredients away, there would be other uses for them. I could make something from Pinterest with the sweetened condensed milk, Cool Whip is great in my hot chocolate and some pinners suggest you freeze it into little dollups just for that purpose, and I love milk, any kind. Of course, I could go buy some Schwans vanilla ice cream and make my chocolate Frosty the way I always do anyway – several scoops of Schwans vanilla ice cream into a glass and yes, I have tried several other ice creams and Schwans is the ONLY one that tastes like it! Pour in chocolate milk, my favorite is any milk by Anderson Erikson. Stir until it looks like a Frosty, enjoy! There you have it. Oh wait, no gas… So, as I sat eating the rest of my purchased Frosty I realized there were two things I had learned that day; 1) It’s always good to buy the real chocolate Frosty just in case you need a back up 2) Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you do have all the right stuff, if you don’t have all the right equipment…

Thanks for reading my blast from the past!

Until next time… Toni

A Blast From the Past

Sometimes Facebook can surprise you with memories you may have forgotten about. I must admit I am often surprised! The older I get, the more of the past I seem to have forgotten. Last night, well technically this morning about 2 a.m. I was looking at the memories from November 1st on Facebook, and in those beside all the ones about NaNoWriMo, (yes, I am torturing myself again this year) was a long forgotten "gem" from 2012! An old blog I had completely forgotten about! I wonder now how many other blogs are out there that I no longer remember doing? So for your entertainment (and mostly mine) I’m going to re-publish those old blog posts under this blog. I will edit them a bit, but I’ll leave them mostly the way I originally published them. So here is the first installment from what was:

"Nama TT’s Corner"

About the author:

My name is Toni, my grandson Willie calls me "nama" and my two granddaughters Charlie & Evie call me "grandma TT" I am rushing toward 60, live in the Heartland on a farm acreage and am now semi-retired. I write children’s books for a hobby and maybe one day will get to see them published.

Christmas Time is Near….

10-30-2012

Looking Forward to Christmas!! If you happen to follow me on Pinterest you will notice a trend lately – Christmas pins!! I LOVE Christmas and everything about it!! Here it is almost the end of October and while everyone else is plotting tomorrows plans for Trick or Treat night tomorrow – I am dreaming of a white Christmas! I am not a big fan of Halloween – no reason, it just always seemed like a lot of work to me! My poor kids only actually carved a pumpkin once that I can remember, and after that – it was paint a face on the pumpkin with magic markers!! Their costumes were always pretty lame too! Their dad’s plaid shirt, blue jeans = I’m a farmer! White sheet = ghost, black material and mask = I’m a ninja! Living in the Midwest (Iowa) it never fails to be crummy weather, cold, rainy, icy, or snow. I’ve been through it all with my kids. Seldom have I seen the end of October be a nice calm warm evening. The funny thing is, today all my kids love Halloween and go to great lengths to celebrate with fun costumes, carving pumpkins with their children, etc. I guess they didn’t suffer too much by my lack of enthusiasm. I don’t know if the fact that I was born in the winter – Jan 2nd – (if you want a bit of history factoid – first baby born in 1955 in Denison, IA (Crawford County). Yup, that was me! Same town Donna Reed was from – for those of you over 50!)

Anyway – I have always had a love affair with winter, snow and cold weather! The more it snows the happier I get! Although I will confess that now that I am racing headlong into 60 – the arthritis in my left knee is getting very annoying on cold damp days! So that is hampering my love affair with winter just a tad. But Christmas is the best of the best!! Christmas has always been a wonderful holiday to me and no I am never going to wish anyone "Happy Holidays!" – it is "Merry Christmas!!" – the birth of Christ Jesus. Own it, be proud of it, celebrate it!! If I know what holiday you celebrate then I will greet you appropriately, for me it’s Christmas, I mean no offense.

Christmas warms my heart – so I start thinking about it as soon as there is even a hint of cooler temperatures in the air. I have even been known to sing Christmas Carols all year long… This year for Christmas my kids are going to do all handmade gifts to each other. I think that is a wonderful idea! The economy has not been good for most of them, so in order to make Christmas less stressful and less about the money, they are going to paint, make, bake, re-purpose gifts this year! I want to make some gifts to give each "family" too – but am still searching for that right one.

Of course Santa will bring them all their gifts from the lists they create, can’t break all the traditions, but I want to do a little something extra. I won’t be able to tell you what crafts/things I come up with ahead of time, because that will take all the surprise out of it! But you can keep an eye on my "Christmas and Other Holidays" board* and you will see the ideas I am looking into! I will keep you up to date on my recipes and new ones I try from Pinterest. If you want to follow me or see my Pinterest boards*, I pasted in the link below. So for now, Merry Christmas everyone!! (* – note: no longer a public board)

End Notes:

I don’t remember what I made for each family, but I hope it was something nice – I want to say I baked each family a variety of Christmas cookies? My apologies to my children about the costumes. 🙂

Until next time….Toni