Posts Tagged ‘childhood fears’

As promised many months ago, I am keeping my readers abreast of an annual vacation that my sisters and I take, along with a whole string of other fun-loving people from across the US and Canada that we’ve met along the way.  Most of us agree that it is the best vacation ever.  Martinique will be the likely destination this year.  For a preview:  http://tinyurl.com/aoupvwl

Looks good, huh?  It is.  It seems that no matter what your idea of a ‘great vacation’ is, Club Med offers it up.  For starters, it’s an all-inclusive, which in my book, is the only way to go, and Club Med has the edge on the ‘all-inclusive’ vacation.  For me, being on vacation means that I don’t have to make choices based on affordability; I think about finances all year long but please, not when I’m on vacation.  I also want to play, eat, drink, relax, socialize, dance, and try new things without compromising quality. 

I work hard at my job and I want to arrive home feeling rejuvenated . . . . not exhausted, needing a ‘vacation from my vacation’.  My ideal get-away is without a schedule.  I like to be spontaneous every day, doing what I want, when I want.  I like to wake up to no alarm clock, indulging  in ‘absurdly long’ breakfasts by the water.  I want to sun on the beach or read a book under a shady palm during the mid-day hours with the ocean as my backdrop.  I like to meander barefoot to the beach bar for a Peña Colada whenever the urge arises, taking in the salty breeze as the sand squishes between my toes.  I like having an endless supply of food and wine at my meals.

I love the individual theme of each club and the way they’re laid out; usually on 40 acres or more.  There is a central ‘hub’, in an area that consists of a pool, the largest bar, the largest restaurant, reception, a boutique, a place to schedule excursions, massages, diving, deep sea fishing . . . this is where you’ll find the people who like to be in the middle of things. . . . water aerobics, pool games, music, table tennis, billiards, and a multitude of fun other things to participate in; or you might just want relax by the pool to observe the other vacationers exerting energy.  And then of course, there are the more remote places to spend your day without all the action; just the harmonious sounds of the breaking waves and swaying palm fronds in the tropical breeze. There are a few things that cost extra such as an excursion or a massage, but I have to have a massage in one of those cute little huts on the beach; have to . . . . reaffirms that life is indeed, good.

I love hopping on the snorkeling boat which goes out twice a day.  I’m not a diver but snorkeling makes me feel like I am, with a lot less commitment of course.  It’s always nice to grab a drink after the twenty minute boat ride back to land; I feel that I genuinely need it after exhausting myself like that; floating on the water, spying on the colorful marine life.

Some years I’m more adventurous than others.  There have been times that I couldn’t be pried from my beach chair, period.  And yet other times when I wanted to do more than watch the ‘brave ones’ (see video) http://youtu.be/BnOqiLBvG7M.

Everyone is different and everyone has a different idea of what kindles their spirit when they take time off to nurture their soul.  Club Med offers it up.  Want to learn how to sail, scuba dive, snorkel, windsurf, water ski, play tennis, shoot a bow and arrow, fly on a full size trapeze (not all clubs have the latter), or do you prefer to jump into a game of beach volleyball or play pool or table tennis at your leisure? After a lesson, you can spend the remainder of the week learning how to perfect your new sport.  It’s all included in the price. 

But there is one thing that always remains the same, year after year, no matter the Club Med location:  we laugh . . . . and laugh . . . . and laugh . . . . frequently into the wee hours of the morning . . . and we dance like nobody’s watching.  Life is indeed, good.

Do I come home feeling rested?  It literally takes me a couple of days to get off ‘island time’ and back in the swing of things.  I’m so relaxed that I can barely kick it into high gear, and that is always the sign of a good vacation. Something  we all agree on (my favorite, by the way): time  s l o w s   d o w n.  The week doesn’t fly by in the blink of an eye, but rather, feels like you’ve been there for a long time, savoring every blissful detail of paradise.

For those of you, who like the idea of this vacation, but not sure about going with a group, let me assure you of this: you’re on your own.  It’s comforting for some to know there are others there with whom you can immediately connect with, but for others, they might want a romantic get-away, or they need the solitude.  No worries, we’ll wave at you from across the path on your way to lunch; that will be your biggest commitment to this group.  Or if you prefer, have lunch, dinner or a cocktail with us and share some stories from the day.  We’re all here to do what we want, when we want, with whoever we want.

I extend this offer to all of you, my readers:  jump on board with us this March or April; the week is still undecided.  It is likely that we’re going to Martinique, but even the location isn’t solid just yet; no matter, they’re all wonderful.  My husband lovingly gives me this gift of a ‘girl trip’ each year.  You too can make it a girl or guy trip or you can bring your loved one and indulge in a romantic get-away.  Price is based on double occupancy and although a private room can be had, it’s usually an additional $300.00.  Last year it cost us $699, excluding air, because we had a group of over twenty . . . . seven days, everything included, even tips.  This trip is well-worth twice that price, I assure you.  I’m holding off, hoping to get a rate close to last year and then we’ll book it with 10% down ($69.00).  Sixty days before departure they take a bit more, and the balance 30 days before we hop on the plane. 

So there you have it.  If you’re interested, email me privately at PMerker@TampaBay.rr.com and I’ll put you on the list to keep you updated.  And ask me any questions as well.  I’m telling you about this in advance so that you can get prepared. When I get that anticipated email, we have to be ready.  Sometimes we only have three days to reserve at that price.  If you book it and then change your mind, there is a still lots of time to cancel without a penalty.  We’d love to have you join us.  If you’re a parent who hasn’t had an adult vacation in a long time, you will come home a better parent.  You won’t be sorry and most likely; you’ll join us on many future trips.  There are probably lots of reasons you shouldn’t go, but as Grand Master would say, “Life is meant to be lived, little master, take some time for YOU.”

In love and light,




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For those of you who read my posts on a regular basis, you might remember my post from August 20, 2012 regarding my son and his ‘time-management’ issue involving his homework, being up all night, etc.  I resolved to distance myself from all aspects of his homework and only assign him a bedtime, allowing HIM to assume full responsibility for the results, either positive or negative.  It seemed like such a good idea at the time; the only solution that allowed my husband and I some freedom from the stress that kept our stomachs in knots.  We were done saving him.   I also wrote in that August 20th post that I would update you on the results of our non-involvement in a couple of months.

The ugly truth is, he progressively got worse; worse than we’ve ever seen him. He continued with the all-night work habits (he got up after we went to bed), the exhaustion and bags under his eyes were hard to watch, and yet, we were bound and determined to let him hit rock bottom if that’s what it took.   But for all the time he spent working (albeit, in the middle of the night), he was getting further and further behind.  He kept complaining that he had so much make-up work to turn in.  Little did we know that this was due to the nine days of school he’d missed.  Nine days?  How can this be happening to OUR son, who is super smart , extremely motivated and capable of getting straight A’s in a program that rivals most college courses?  A kid who last summer was planning on applying to Yale? He was damn near suicidal when he got his first B, and now we’re seeing D’s and F’s?? . . .  “And you’ve missed how many days of school?” How could we not know this?  Something is wrong, really wrong; something much more than a procrastination or time-management issue.  And to make matters worse, he didn’t care. Depression was setting in.

We quickly scheduled a parent-teacher meeting and I spent the following day calling every child psychiatrist in the book, hoping that one of them (any of them) could see him tomorrow.  In the real world, I guess that everyone who finally decides to call a psychiatrist needs to be seen tomorrow.  Four to five weeks was the soonest, anywhere.  No one seemed to understand that my son is having difficulty getting out of bed; he won’t make it four-five weeks.  Not knowing what else to do, I called The Children’s Crisis Center.  Wonderful, wonderful people working there, but I was shocked to hear that the only solution to being seen immediately was if he would agree to a 72 hour ‘volunteer’ Baker Act; the only way to get him help NOW.  Baker Act?  OMG, are you kidding me?!  The sad truth was, it seemed the only option; “Let us think about it, we can’t make that decision without some time to think.”

It was then that I had to stop and get centered.  For the previous 24 hours, I was on automatic pilot, calling psychiatrists like a mad woman, looking for a solution quickly.  FIX HIM, SOMEONE FIX HIM NOW. I had to remind myself that he wasn’t dying, even though it felt that way.  I had to remind myself that everything was okay, and the stress that my husband and I were feeling wasn’t helping him at all.  He needed us to respond logically, not emotionally.  He needed us to be strong and figure it out.  I was amazed that the anger I’d been feeling for the slow decline of his mental health over the last three years (what we thought was procrastination/poor time management) turned to compassion.  The poor kid didn’t know why he was having trouble focusing.  He couldn’t seem to start a project, much less finish one.  He says he spends the dark hours of the night staring at his work, accomplishing very little.  When we woke him for school (after he’d only slept one-two hours), he was a zombie.  There were nine days that once we’d left for work, he couldn’t muster it up to get dressed and go to school.  He was so far behind that he couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.

Two good things happened after we stopped responding emotionally and everything was on the table.  The first was a call from one of the psychiatrist’s offices that previously had no openings (a highly recommended one); they had a cancellation on Monday at 4pm, did we want it?  “Yes, thank you” . . . tears of joy.  The second was our parent-teacher conference.  They all expressed their love for Jordan and felt that he was an ideal candidate for the IB Program; to drop out in his senior year with only months to go, would be a crime.  They were compassionate and willing to give him incompletes, rather than zero’s for his unfinished work until we know what’s going on.  They’ll work with him and support him through this.  As we left the room, several teachers hugged me and said, “Tell Jordan that we love him and that he has a community of people here to help him.” More tears of joy.

Our appointment is on Monday and although we don’t have any answers yet, everyone feels lighter.  Jordan has always loved the relationship he’s had with his teachers but in light of his recent absences and unfinished work, he thought they had all lost respect for him; he thought they viewed him as a slacker. Now he knows better and this one factor alone gives him hope. 

I am humbled by the desire of everyday people to extend their hand when they see someone in need.  In the midst of my 24 hours of sheer panic, I poured my heart out to many of my daily customers at my job, frequently on the verge of tears.  Everyone took time to listen, give a hug and assure me that it would be okay.  Many had suggestions of places to seek help, business cards and phone numbers of professionals that had helped them or their own family.  An ex-deputy sheriff  connected me with the Children’s Crisis Center and took the time to tell me about the wonderful work they do.  Human beings are amazing creations.  We love to give of ourselves and when we do so, the law of cause and effect is set into motion; our own life is brightened in miraculous ways.  Being on the receiving end of the outpouring of love and help is a different experience for me as I seldom fall apart; I handle things myself.  I urge anyone else who is like me; someone who always holds it together, to reach out to others when you have a personal or family crisis.  It’s a humbling experience and I feel centered again, at least for the time being.  It certainly makes me want to pay it forward.  I’ll keep you updated.

In love and light,



Photo courtsey of www.freedigitalphotos.net


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I’m reblogging this video from www.pixelrites.wordpress.com.  It’s a wonderful blog,  filled with inspirational words, pictures, and videos ; do yourself a favor and stop by.

To me, this video is a testiment to the power of our thoughts and words.  Children haven’t been on the planet long enough to stop believing, and subsequently, they can produce miracles if we don’t get in the way.  For that very reason, I wrote The Grand Master/Little Master Series which is designed to support, teach and nurture this belief.  Enjoy the video of Dr. Wayne Dyer and his adult daughter as she tells the story of a childhood healing.

In love and light,



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Tomorrow is back-to-school for kids in Pinellas County, Florida and while most parents simply can’t wait to get their children back on a schedule, out of the fridge, away from the TV and sofa, and out from behind the computer; my husband and I are feeling very ambivalent about ‘back-to-school’. 

Without the pressures of the intensely rigorous, International Baccalaureate program that our son is in, we actually get along fairly well; we laugh, we communicate and behave like real human beings.  Once the school bell rings in August, something takes over my son’s body and he becomes ‘someone else’.  His time-management skills are so bad (so bad!) that I’m convinced he’s  nocturnal; he cannot, I repeat, CANNOT do homework while it’s still light outside. 

Over the last three years of this tremendously difficult program, we’ve tried pretty much everything you can imagine to get him to come home and do his five plus (yes, you read correctly, FIVE, plus) hours of homework right after school.  I’ve read all the books and believe me; we’ve tried using POSITIVE motivation rather than negative punishment.  Ultimately however, we eventually resorted to playing ‘take-away’ by having him lose things like his cell phone, TV, car keys and computer.  Without his computer, however, he really can’t do homework . . . his assignments are online and some work has to be uploaded by midnight the night before it’s due. Some of his teachers reach the kids through Facebook if there’s a change to the work (whose bright idea was this?)  All of these things, aside from maybe losing the TV, cause US more work and grief. 

So what’s a parent to do?? I’m tired of being angry and resentful that he can’t (or won’t) take our advice about improving his time-management skills.  He hates being up all night and he hates being so tired during the day that he has to nap when he gets home from school. His best work is done between 9pm and 3am, but he’s tired when his alarm goes off at six in the morning and he’s cranky as all get-out.  Somehow he manages to get mostly A’s in a program that rivals your average college curriculum, AND, he happens to like doing so well in such a challenging program, but he’s killing himself in the process  . . . . Not to mention the fact that he’s a bear to live with.  He could turn it all around so easily with his smarts; he’s very capable of handling this program and more, but he won’t get on board.

So this year I’m giving it up.  I’m not going to try and save him anymore.  I’ve realized that when they get bigger and taller than you, you can’t MAKE them do their homework; you can’t MAKE them go to bed at a certain time.  They can get back up and work more after you go to bed.  And I don’t want to keep getting up to check on him, let him be exhausted.   I mean, don’t get me wrong, you can tell them to do it and if they don’t . . . yadda, yadda . . . but they will decide if its’ really going to get done, and when.  And they will live with the consequences they create.  We can only guide them; we can’t do it for them.  The motivation has to be internal and sometimes to arrive at this place; one has to come from a loss of some kind, or to experience the consequences of making a bad choice. 

As a parent, it’s hard to watch.  We almost need to step outside of the parenting role and step into being a non-emotional guide (who loves them unconditionally), with no attachment to the outcome.  Any one of us could tell another parent how to handle this situation; it’s a no-brainer.  But can I do this with my own child?  Can I bear the frustration of watching him slowly kill himself over the upcoming school year, yet again, when I know I can save him if he’ll just listen?  Ahhh, the joys of parenthood. 

There’s a lot that I CAN do and HAVE done, but this one has me good.  I’m going to give it my best shot by setting some guidelines that are reasonable, and stop stressing.  He’ll either make it or he won’t; he’ll either do it the easy way or he’ll struggle through another year, starting projects the day before they’re due, when he had three months to do them.  But one thing is for sure; I need to re-read my children’s books (they’re not just for children, did you know?).  Grand Master never fails me and always steers me to the answer that I already had.  I’ll update you on the results in a couple months, wish me luck 🙂

In love and light,



Photo courtsey of www.freedigitalphotos.net

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For those of you who read my post from last weekend, I have to apologize if I offended anyone with the link to the movie, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, but we gotta have a sense of humor, right?  Personally, no matter what the circumstances, it’s not in my make-up to behave as Steve Martin did in that scene.  And yet, there is something so gratifying to watch someone else behave like that when you feel that an injustice has been done.  It’s as though you silently root them on for verbalizing what YOU can’t say or do.  It doesn’t serve anyone; it almost never gets anything productive accomplished, it only serves the person blowing off steam for the sake of blowing off steam.

So why, you might ask,  am I still beating this subject to a pulp?  Glad you asked.  My husband and my son spent last week in NY and WERE SCHEDULED to arrive home around 10:30pm last night.  The calls from my husband started coming in around 10:15, saying that the flight was a bit delayed.  “Ha ha ha, wouldn’t it be funny if you had a repeat of last weekend?  What are the odds? Ha ha ha . . .

Do I need to say more?  It is now Sunday afternoon at about 3:30pm and they still aren’t home.  So, I’m not going to detail the series of unfortunate events that occurred to my husband and son in the last 24 hours, but because yesterday was my son’s 17th birthday, I wrote a poem for him; one that I’m sure he’ll keep forever to commemorate this happy occasion.  The first part of the poem you read about in last weeks post.  The last half is what you don’t know.  Please allow me to share it with you, here goes:

Jordan’s 17th Birthday

June 30, 2012

I’m sorry your birthday wasn’t the celebration you should get

Most of it on the runway, on a United Airlines jet

 Your celebration dinner should have been cake and ice cream,

But you were getting nothing, not even peanuts, it would seem.

 We didn’t get to see Kate and Danielle wed,

Hotels.com gave you a couch, not a bed.

 F _ _ _ ing Marsha (!) and her husband

(I’m sure their relationship is good),

But we don’t think he talks to her the way that he should!

 The line at Customer Service was a three hour wait,

We weren’t getting in soon, it seemed was our fate.

 Although United had agents all over the place,

Only TWO were helping customers; no smiles on their face.

 Finally!  Good news!  We can catch some of the reception

Eighty dollars later; different airport, no exception.

 “Okay, we’ll do it, what choice do we have?”

We can change into our wedding clothes in a gas station lav.

 That is, if we locate our lost checked-in bag

What else do they need, we still have our tag . . .!

 We did indeed, make the reception in time

For some much needed food, on someone else’s dime!

 A few hours later, mom on her way home,

Tropical Storm, Debbie, making HER presence known!

 You and dad in New York, getting up early each day,

Checking out colleges; the thing to do, so they say.

 And then finally, it’s over, the week here and gone,

You can finally sleep in, no rising at dawn.

 Then back at the airport, United flight 721

Sat still on the runway, couldn’t get it to run!

 You returned to the gate, not once, but twice,

A new flight crew was needed, “well, isn’t that nice?!”

 They cancelled the flight, three hours gone by

You were so friggin tired, you thought you might die.

 The ‘Friendly Skies’ airline, once again made it right

They’d get you home, but “no way’ tonight.

 No rooms to be had; every single one filled,

Both you and your dad, neither one of you thrilled.

 Another night in the airport, lost souls all around,

Travelers sleeping, some on the ground.

 “The closest we can get you into Tampa Bay,

Is the Orlando airport, and have a nice day!”

 As I sit here and write this, feeling bad that you’re tired,

Get a rental car, get home!  So that dad doesn’t get fired!

 It was an expensive trip and you were up every night,

Do you think that United will make their wrongs right?

 So, Happy Birthday my son, I hope it was great!

Fly the “Friendly Skies of United”

On your next vacation escape 🙂

Gotta laugh, right.?  But then again, I’m the one at home.  They should be here shortly and I’ll expect to see them for about ten minutes, before they throw their limp bodies on top of the bed.

In love and light,



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It was to be a whirlwind weekend but one I was willing to do.  My niece was getting married late Saturday afternoon in Chatham, NY. I arose in typical workday fashion on Friday morning at 3:30am and put in a full day of work.  Exhausted, I ran home, showered, grabbed my husband, my 17 year old son, and my carry-on luggage and headed for the Tampa airport for a 7:00pm flight.  We were to stop in DC and catch our connecting flight into Albany, NY, scheduled to arrive at 11:30pm.  We had a rental car waiting so that we could then drive approximately 40 minutes into the lovely village of Chatham. 

My husband and son were staying for a week to visit colleges, rekindle with family, and relax.  I had to be back on Sunday for some unfinished work prep and work on Monday.  To accommodate my circumstances, I had ONE choice of return departure times: 5:30am . . . no problem, I just won’t stay at the reception too late; I can handle it.

When we discovered that our flight would be delayed for take-off from Tampa, due to some bad weather conditions in DC that still eludes me, my son said, “Wouldn’t it be terrible if we missed the wedding?”  We both chuckled.  Forty minutes later, still sitting in line for take-off, it didn’t seem so funny.

We missed our connecting flight by, oh . . . twenty minutes, along with most of the other passengers who also missed their connecting flights.  When we asked “WHY IN THE WORLD WOULDN’T THEY HOLD THE PLANES FOR THE PEOPLE WHO WERE CURRENTLY RUNNING THROUGH THE AIRPORT TO CATCH THEIR FLIGHT???” We were told that United NEVER holds flights.  Friggin super.  Okay, “What do we do now?”  It’s about 9:30pm in DC.  We were instructed to get in line at customer service and they would help us re-book.  My husband got in line for three hours . . . couldn’t some of those other United employees help out?  I mean, the airport is dead at this hour and they’re manning counters with ZERO people there!  Two and a half hours later, they decided that indeed, this was an excellent idea.

There were no flights available with room for additional passengers and the absolute soonest they could get us out was 24 hours later, putting us in NY Saturday night, very late.  “Wouldn’t it be terrible if we missed the wedding?” Ha ha ha, . . . It seemed that we would.  We did discover however, if we were willing to take a taxi to the Ronald Regan airport (for another $80.00) they could get us on a flight with another airline that would maybe allow us to catch some of the reception.  I was so frustrated that I would have turned around and come right back to Tampa (considering that I had to return at 5:30am on Sunday morning anyway), but they couldn’t get me back until late Saturday night.  I might as well stay with the boys, as my only other option was to hang at the airport for 24 hours.  We opted for the flight out of Ronald Regan the following day at 2:50pm.

I had no checked luggage, only a carry on with my dress for the wedding, a pair of nice shoes, and some miscellaneous personal items.  My husband and son however had checked one bag, to accommodate their week’s stay.  “Where is my bag?” asks my even-tempered husband (who always professes that one attracts more flies with honey . . .), refusing to give in to the understandable frustration he was feeling.  “Good question!” was the ‘way too happy’ United attendant’s response (seriously, WAY too happy, even under normal circumstances).  We were tired, it was 3:30am, and we weren’t feeling quite as chipper as she was.  It is HERE where I have to insert a link to the particular scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles (Steve Martin and John Candy) that adequately conveys the way my husband and I were feeling in this moment.  But I have to warn you, the ‘F’ bomb is dropped quite a few times, so please don’t view it if you’ll be offended!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWRxPDhd3d0

They had no idea what happened to our bag.  “Eventually, it will show up in Albany . . . . eventually, we think.  But don’t lose your luggage tag!” they tell us.  Really?!  We were going to throw it away, all this unnecessary paper . . .

We had to sleep.  United gave us a coupon for 50% off with Hotels.com and a voucher for taxi transportation to the hotel, IF we can find a hotel that isn’t either full, or priced out of our range (even at 50% off) for the four hours of sleep that we might get, so that we can take a taxi to a different airport  and leave on a different airline.  My husband spends another 30 minutes on the phone with an employee from Hotels.com, who can’t even seem to answer simple questions like, “how many beds are in the room?” The incredibly nice man on the other end of the phone asked if we could call him back to let him know the bed count once we arrived.  I suppose if any other customers requested that same information, he would be able to give them an accurate answer. The look on my husbands face was priceless.  “You want me to call you back to tell you how many beds are in the room?!” he asks. Who the heck is this ‘Hotels.com’ and exactly WHAT service do they provide???

While my husband is occupied with finding us a room for a few hours of sleep, my son and I are watching the other lost souls wandering around the empty airport.  One gentleman (and I use this word loosely) simply couldn’t contain his frustration.  Apparently he felt a need to call his wife at this absurd hour, just to share what was going on, as though she could do anything about it, particularly at that hour. The airport was quiet; people were sleeping on benches, small children wrapped in their parents arms, a tearful young woman with her husband trying to return home to Ireland . . . and we ALL hear “F_ _ _ ING COME ON MARSHA!  . . . YES, I’M STUCK HERE UNTIL 10PM TOMORROW NIGHT; I CAN’T GET A HOTEL, I CAN’T GET A RENTAL CAR, MY LUGGAGE IS MISSING  . . . OH NEVER MIND, I GUESS YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING!  I’LL DO THIS ON MY OWN LIKE I DO EVERYTHING ELSE!  Click.  Well wasn’t that fun?  Now that everyone is awake . . . and very happy about it, I might add.  This rage-a-holic was the highlight of my son’s weekend.  He was completely entertained by this man’s inability to control himself in an appropriate manner.  ‘Robbie Rage’ freaked out at anyone who HE thought should be able to help him, but couldn’t. 

Without boring you with more detail, we did get into a nice hotel for about $75.00 (and had to use the pull out couch for the extra bed . . . no, we didn’t call the nice gentleman at hotels.com . . . “Hey listen Tom, we do indeed have beds in this room, thanks for the service you folks provide!”

The rental car company had our pick up date wrong; my husband had to convince them that it was THEIR mistake, not ours, in order to avoid being charged another $200.00 or so for the week he needed the car.  Swiftly, we changed our clothes and arrived at the wedding reception in time to eat (thank goodness, we’d been eating crackers and nuts for the last 24 hours) and to consume some much needed alcohol.  I’m certain I made a lovely impression with the dark circles under my red eyes, in my wrinkled dress and heels, while quickly downing two glasses of wine!   “Hey congratulations, sorry we missed the wedding . . . got any more wine?”

I was asleep by 11:30pm and ALMOST missed my flight out of Albany.  At 4:30am in the small airport of Albany, NY on a Sunday morning . . . who would have thought that the security line would look like a 45 minute wait for a Disney ride?  Really??!!  But lo and behold, I did arrive at my gate just as they announced boarding for group six.  I arrived safely and uneventfully back in Tampa, just in time to catch all the excitement from Tropical Storm Debbie.  I was so tired I just wanted to jump in bed, but I thought that it might be wise to call my husband for instructions on draining the pool.  Not only was it filled to capacity (and a lovely shade of green-yellow), but I was concerned that the water might begin to seep into the house from the lanai (screened in porch, for those who aren’t Floridians).  No matter that it was pouring down rain with wind gusts of 30mph . . . . “I’ll get my get my raincoat honey, don’t hang up!”.  My husband tells me that the draining hose is split, therefore I have to insert one end into the other and “make sure you shove it in two or three feet . . . .”  Sure!  No problem!  Such an opportunity; I now know how to drain our pool, even if the hose is in two pieces!

I’d like to say that this story ends happily and while I’m now safe within the confines of my home, I made a decision when my alarm went off this morning to NOT go to work.  Once I make that decision, I can’t change my mind two hours later; it’s too late to get prepared. For most, this might not be a big deal, but I drive a mobile catering truck and service approximately 300 people (15 companies) for their breakfast, break, and lunch needs.  With the pounding rain at 3:30am this morning and the dismal weather forecast, it seemed the right choice.  Monday is a big money day for me AND, we just spent $1000.00 for a weekend at the Dulles Airport (something that was on my bucket list) so I really needed to work, but I couldn’t see spending the entire day in tropical storm conditions.  It’s now 3:00pm and it hasn’t rained ONCE today . . . the sun even came out (isn’t that special?).  I found myself hoping it would pour to justify my decision, but no, it’s been a beautiful day.

As I watch the news, they’re saying that we shouldn’t be fooled by the seemingly quiet conditions right now.  In the next two days if Debbie doesn’t have some movement, we could get more rain than the record we set on Sunday . . . and God forbid, if it gets upgraded to a level ONE hurricane, we’re in trouble. 

So it’s been an interesting weekend, to say the least, and the streak of ‘luck’ doesn’t seem to be over yet.  Thank goodness my son was able to keep me in pretty good spirits by seeing the humor in the ‘series of unfortunate events’.  I’m trying very hard to just ‘chill’ and go with the flow.  Not much else to do, but it’s been a test.  I hope my husband and son are enjoying their stay in NY while I sit, prepared to seek shelter in the bedroom closet, equipped with candle, lighter, water, several cans of food, and a vat of wine . . . .

In love and light (if we don’t lose power),



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It’s Father’s Day and I’d like to start this post by wishing all father’s reading this blog, a very happy one!  But my post will not be about Father’s Day.  Almost every blog I follow is doing a tribute to the men in their lives and while well-deserved indeed, I’ve decided to write about the one thing that seems to be occupying my thoughts these days, from sun up to sundown; my daughter in Greece (aka, separation anxiety). 

Last week’s post told the story; this week’s post will be stealing the wisdom of my oldest sister (although she will deny this fact and solemnly swear that my middle sister is the oldest!).  It’s the ‘Bubble Theory’ that she frequently speaks of when anyone in the family is worried or concerned about a loved one.

I miss my daughter, I really do, but more than that, I worry about her safety; the decisions she makes without my consultation; riding on big Greek horses that live more in a herd than in a stable, getting lost on the trails that still baffle her . . . .  What’s a parent to do about the daily worry that consumes them?  How do you NOT break out into a cold sweat when you put your little one on the bus for the first time? When they go for their first solo car ride or on an airplane alone to visit aunt Suzy?  When they go on their first date?  This part of the parental journey was not in any of the books on MY night table; or maybe it was but I certainly didn’t process it.  I probably read it and nodded my head as though I could relate, but those bonds are so strong that ‘there ain’t no relatin” until you’re a parent that has sent their baby off without them.

When my children were little, I used to ask parents of older children, “Does it get easier?”  The fairly standard response was, “It gets different.” At the time, that seemed like a cop-out answer, but having been there, it is exactly accurate; it gets different.  I mean, I no longer worry about them getting out of my sight in the supermarket (actually, I can’t even get them to the supermarket!), but now I worry about the choices they make that have no previous experience to warrant making those choices. 

My daughter; Greece; “Put her in a bubble” my sister would tell me and it simply refers to visualizing them in a bubble cocoon.  I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but something happens in the instant you make a decision to ‘bubbleize’ someone.  That decision calls forth something out of nowhere to wrap your loved ones in; a protective, invisible-like shield, keeping them safe in a crazy world.  “How can it work?” you might ask.  “It only makes YOU feel better but it can’t really protect them.” You might add.  I say it does work.  If you believe in The Law of Attraction, then you have to believe that we give a powerful vibration to ANY thoughts rolling around in our head.  When we worry, we only ADD to the negative possibility.  When we surrender it to ‘the bubble’, we’ve demonstrated our faith that ‘she will be fine; she is protected.’ Those thoughts are way more powerful and will bring about a way more desired result than worry.

Does this mean that nothing bad can happen to my daughter in Greece?  Of course not, but I’m taking no chances.  The bubble has proven itself over and over to my family and I believe it.  A strong belief in anything that your heart desires is the key to attainment. But be realistic.  Case in point: The lottery hasn’t worked for me yet . . . of course, I really don’t believe that I can win; the odds are so stacked against it.  For now, I’ll just believe that my daughter is fine in Greece in her protective bubble. I should probably also go check my husband’s lottery ticket . . . . HE believes we can win.

In love and light,



Photo credit goes to: FreeDigitalPhotos.net


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