Summer Struck

I am a four seasons kind of girl stuck in a perpetual summer world. Some may find this a predicament of their liking, but I couldn't be more discontented. It makes me crabby knowing I am only a little more than two months into a six-month stint of heat. Not just any heat, but the heat of the unforgiving desert. This mood seems to hit earlier and earlier each new year. I apologize to those around me as I try to muddle through it. I know I am no fun to be with when I'm like this. I feel like a grumpy old man. I wish it didn't have to be this way. Why can't I dig deep down and find a reason to love this weather? Be happy just where I'm at, be present. This will take much soul searching. But it is worth the dive, to find reason to be in the here and now. Even if that means my "here and now" will hit 115 degrees come Saturday.

I gain weight just smelling Albertson's fresh baked bread. . .

. . .I am quite sure of it.

Why else would I be down only two pounds this past week? It's so frustrating because, for once, I have been faithfully following the plan. I can't remember the last time I made it two weeks on a diet. Exercise is a bit sporadic, but I am much more active than I have been in a long while. And this week had been really tough on my psyche, cravings abound and emotions gone wild. I even cried while watching the final College World Series game - what is up with that?! I did not, however, give in to any cravings. Which, in my mind, is why I should be down more than a measly two pounds.

I know, I know, two pounds is a healthy amount of weight loss per week. OK, I truly do believe that, just not this week. First, it was only my second week on the program and I expected more off in those first few weeks. Second, this week has been a real challenge; but I did not waver. Not one bit. And my activity level was up. Go figure.

Which brings me to the Albertson's fresh baked bread incident. I swear I could hear that bread calling my name as Wink and I grocery shopped on Thursday. Thursday at 4:00 PM to be exact. If, for whatever reason, you cannot have Albertson's fresh baked bread, do not, I repeat DO NOT, grocery shop at 4:00 PM. Fresh, right out of the oven. Aroma fills the entire store. Bread hot to the touch. Ugh. I literally wanted to cry. Yes, cry. Addict, the script of an addict. Cry, maybe, but I did not cave. The bread stayed on the shelves as the clerk commented on how healthy our cart looked. Thank you Albertson's clerk, I really needed to hear I was doing the right thing.

Instant gratification. I guess that's what this is really all about. I want it and I'm not going to get it this time. A little too much instant gratification got me into this mess; I shouldn't expect that it would get me out of this mess as well. Instead, I learn how slow and steady works. I learn how to wait on that gratification; have it really mean something. I learn how to work hard. All sounds much more worthy than the whole instant gratification gig, huh?

Well, on to week number three. I'll gladly take another two pounds down as I look toward the distant holidays and know that, if I keep it up, I will have given myself and my family the best Christmas gift ever. One well worth the wait.

Top Ten Reasons. . .Lake Milton

Far enough away to feel the peace of being waterside; but close enough to make the trip often throughout the summer months. Perfect for my family living in Ohio. Perfect for me and Caly when visiting!

As with all things Ohio, Caly dove right into this adventure. She was so excited to take that first few steps into the lake. But anxious too. Worried about catfish. Apparently she had an unsavory experience with a catfish in one of our lakes. (We live in a lake community, but I wouldn't even dip my foot into this water, let alone swim in it. It's that disgusting "reclaimed" water; environment friendly, because we live in the desert.)

"Are there catfish in this lake?"

I take a moment because I can see on her face that she does not want there to be catfish in this lake.

"No honey, there are no catfish." I am going to hell.

"Good, because if there were catfish in this lake, I would not go in it."

"Why?"

Caly proceeds to tell me of a boating mishap on our lakes where the boat tipped, she ended up in the water, and what she perceived to be a catfish nipped at her.

As if the memory of this makes her doubt my word, she asks again, "Are you sure there are no catfish in this lake?"

Well, I've already lied, what am I supposed to say? If I tell her, "yes honey, there are catfish in this lake," she will freak out and not enjoy the lake. And we were there all day. So I reiterate, "No honey, there are no catfish in this lake." How seriously do you suppose God takes lying to your child about catfish?

"Good, because if there were catfish in this lake. . ."

"Well then, you have nothing to worry about." Unless, of course, she later fishes with cousin David and catches one. Thank goodness they were unlucky in their fishing endeavors.
Senses awakened for Caly as she thoroughly took in the lake. Cousin Joe allowed her to drive the boat. Really drive the boat. I was worried we would all end up in the lake with the (shhh) catfish! But Caly did an awesome job as captain and we all made it back to shore without incident.
Peaceful. How does water do that to you? The ebb and flow. The mist. The coolness in its touch.

My cousin Karen had already beat the odds, surviving months after cancer threatened to take her life. The peace of this trip was never more apparent than in her face as the boat glided upon the water. She seemed to feel free. Free of this monster that now dictated her life. Free of pain. Free of wondering how much longer she will defy the odds.

As I watched her, fully aware I would never know the depth of her thoughts at that particular moment, I had no words to share. Partly from sadness, but also partly from peace. Peace in knowing that somehow this special place is able to quiet her soul, stop the chaos of cancer from spinning within. Because that is what water does.
Lake Milton has come a long way over the years. Expansive luxury homes are replacing old, dilapidated, camp-style structures. Landscapes are filling in where wild brush once took over. The feel of the lake is just so much more regal. But even with the obvious improvements, the simplicity of the water still prevails. And the peace. Peacefulness only a place of water can bring into being.

Lake Milton, you had me at hello.

Poppy enjoying the boat ride:
Caly ready to go on the boat:
Aunt Rosey's boyfriend Bill and Poppy relaxing at the pagoda:

Chatting with Kimberly, Karen & family friend Jesse:

Kimberly and Joe - does it get any better than this?

Consequences

Meals for the month. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even dessert. Yum.

At first I found it quite disturbing when I realized that none of these meals come frozen; all the foods - some containing meat - are "soft canned." For days, I was extremely hesitant to take those first few bites of each meal, literally nauseated just thinking about it. With good reason - the food leaves much to be desired both in taste and size. I told my therapist the portion sizes are laughable and she said, "No, Michele, the portion sizes are normal."

Normal. Haven't been there for quite some time, if ever. Food has always been a problem. I remember when I was young, but way old enough to know better, my Dad called all three kids into the family room. I had a feeling I knew what was about to transpire. You see, I had finished off the Hostess cupcakes. In one sitting, sneakily I may add. Leaving zero for the rest of the family. The conversation went something like this:

Dad: "Who ate the cupcakes?"

Me: "Not me."

Steven: "Not me."

Lisa: "Not me."

Dad: "Well, someone ate the cupcakes and you three aren't going anywhere until I find out who."

Me: "Wasn't me."

Steven: (looking totally baffled as he was really very young) "Not me either."

Lisa: "I ate the cupcakes."

What?! This was my lucky day - a sibling taking the fall.

Dad: (knowing darn well who really ate the cupcakes) "Lisa, are you sure you ate the cupcakes; you know you will be punished."

Lisa: (big crocodile tears coming from her even bigger olive eyes) "Yes, I ate them."

OK, what kind of sister lets her younger sister - by a lot - take the punishment for something that, in all truthfulness, she did.

I do not even remember feeling guilty.

This, my friends, is the script of an addict. The first clue I was about to have a life-long problem regarding food, particularly cupcakes. (You might recall my recent winter obsession with vanilla bean cupcakes from Starbucks.)

In all seriousness, I never remember having a "normal" relationship with food. And because I was never overweight, I didn't really pay it much mind. Year after year of paying "it" no mind, however, has taken its toll. I can't recall a time since I gave birth to Christopher that I was of a normal weight. In fact, years ago, when an old neighbor saw our wedding album sitting out, she asked me whose it was. I forget that almost everyone in my daily life has no idea I used to be thin.

Now officially obese, I have no choice but to address the addiction. Head on. No excuses. With all my might. Oh, I've been around the block a time or two with the whole diet scene. Nothing has worked because I have not let it work. This time has to be different; a last resort of sorts.

So, I am on board with Nutrisystem. Not the yummiest food in the diet realm, but what is necessary at this point of my journey. I call it my "consequence" for making the choices that got me here. Something I must be accountable for and to.

The first week has gone relatively smooth, minus the severe nauseousness in the beginning and getting used to what a normal portion of food looks like. I weighed in six pounds less than I did the week before. Wink (who has been so loving and supportive of this endeavor) tells me it's a great start, but I continue to beat myself up because I didn't lose ten. I tend to have an "all or nothing" attitude that I know needs some adjustment. Gotta keep my therapist busy!

So, please keep me in your prayers for the strength I will undoubtedly need to get through this. And, if you ever wonder what Michele is having for dinner, take a look below and you'll have your answer!
Consequences.

wRiTeR's BlOcK

I seem to be suffering from a severe case of writer's block. Ugh.

I think it could be attributed to my lack of food intake.

Seriously.

No, really!

More about that on Monday. . .

Graduation Day

Don't blink

Just like that you're six years old and you take a nap and you

Wake up and you're twenty-five and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife

Don't blink

You just might miss your babies growing like mine did

Turning into moms and dads, next thing you know your better half

Of fifty years is there in bed

And you're praying God takes you instead

Trust me friend, a hundred years goes faster than you think

So don't blink

-Kenny Chesney, Don't Blink from Just Who I am: Poets & Pirates

It came faster than we could have ever imagined; it was over in the blink of an eye.

Graduation Day.

This just couldn't be.

After all, it seems it wasn't all that long ago Chris was "graduating" from Kindergarten. Just beginning his schooling career in earnest. His first grade classroom had "The Class of 2009" over the door so that every time you left the room you were gently reminded. But it didn't seem feasible, this year of 2009. We hadn't even hit the year 2000 yet!

All too quickly, he was graduating from the sixth grade D.A.R.E. program, leaving his grade school behind and moving on to junior high. Junior high ended without much fanfare, but dropping him off that first time at the entrance of his high school alternately sank my stomach and filled me with excitement. When did he get old enough to go to high school? Still, it seemed like the years would last forever. I can remember feeling the same way when I was in high school, thinking my time there would continue indefinitely.

And then it hit. Undeniably. Chris was truly ready to be done with high school. Looking so forward to beginning the next chapter.

But still, wasn't it just yesterday, I am quite sure it was, when all of this seemed so far away? "Trust me friend, a hundred years goes faster than you think. So don't blink."

Because we had 749 students to graduate, Hamilton's Graduation was held at Arizona State University, Wells Fargo Arena. Welcome Hamilton High School:

Note that not all the seniors even fit on the floor - some were up in the immediate bleachers behind the regular seating. The place was jam-packed:

The most touching tribute made was that of the Class of 2009 including twelve very special honorary graduates. Each honorary graduate had served in either the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines and was unable to graduate due to their service for our Country. We had veterans of World War 2, the Korean War, and Vietnam. How absolutely awesome it was to see them and their families finally celebrate this milestone.

Chris and his favorite sister:

Chris & Mom:

Chris with Grandmother, Grandad & Poppy:

The four graduates. For our party we, together with three other families, rented the Hamilton Aquatic Center which is adjacent to the High School. The kids have known each other since they were little. Lindsey, Chris, Elizabeth & Alycia:

Grandad, Grandmother, Poppy, Wink, Chris & Michele at the party:

Uncle Barney, Spencer, Chris, Aunt Cindy & Tayler Rae at the party:

The graduation board I put together for all four graduates:

Please be forewarned, anything that follows may contain bragging!

Chris did a great job during his high school years. He lettered in Academics (but isn't anywhere near as geeky as that sounds!):Graduated with High Honors:

Is an AP Scholar and an Arizona Academic Scholar.

Earned the AIMS Scholarship to any State school as well as the Wildcat Excellence Award from the University of Arizona, the NAU President's Scholarship from Northern Arizona University, and the Provost's Scholarship from Arizona State University.

And the winner is. . .Arizona State University, Fulton School of Engineering, to study biomedical engineering.

A great job indeed, Chris, a great job indeed!

Top Ten Reasons. . .A Walk to Remember

Disclaimer: First of all, fair warning that this post is quite long. Secondly, remember that these "Top Tens" are not in any particular order, just a way to share all the fabulous memories we made while in Ohio last summer.

A walk down memory lane. Cliche phrase, maybe. But one of which I will never tire. Sounds of childhood play as if coming from an old AM transistor radio. Senses awakened. Touching fragments of the past, something tangible to prove it indeed existed. Smelling the fragrance of years gone by, effectively bringing me back to a simpler time and place. Scenes flash before my eyes, forcing me to concentrate on staying in the present. A walk of remembrance.

It had been 11 years since I visited the place I grew up. I was anxious to soak in everything I could about my beloved old town. With eyes wide open, I began my quest to see all that was and all that it's become.

Where cornfields once grew all summer long, until their peak of the early Autumn harvest, development now sits. Chain restaurants and national retail establishments are making their presence known. Under new ownership, the mall is falling into disrepair. Beautiful old homes, filled with character and history, are left abandoned and boarded up. Some of the land where the Youngstown Sheet & Tube Company provided work for so many, for so long, has been renovated in hopes of improving the area. They've done a great job. Main thoroughfares are being widened to accommodate increased traffic. Neighborhoods once new are now enjoying lush, mature landscaping. They seem so much smaller than I remember. Where the abundant wooded forests grew wild, new homes now stand. But, on the other hand, where an open field devoted to boarding horses once stood, the forest has taken over. Oh how I loved driving past those horses, dreaming of the day I would have one of my own. I would call her "Shasta." Miles away, into the country surroundings of my Aunt's neighborhood, even the pasture that sparked my life-long fondness of cows has disappeared into the brush.

Much has changed, yet so much has stayed the same. "Mom and Pop" restaurants still rule, staunchly withstanding the emergence of chain restaurants. Stand tall and keep fighting! The Sparkle grocery store stands fairly untouched right next to the equally untouched Cornersburg Pizza. Taking up residence just a block or so down the road from its original location, Cornersburg Pharmacy, now called Family Discount Drug Store, still has that old-time drug store feel. The Catholic churches of which I am familiar are still every bit as amazing as I remember. The narrow neighborhood streets still hug you as you drive through. People take such pride in their landscape; trees and bushes meticulously trimmed, mulch freshly piled, and annuals brimming over.

With my Dad in tow, Caly and I were off to explore these places of which I will always hold dear in my heart. It was great to have my Dad's perspective, things he knew that I had not yet heard. First we traveled into Campbell to see where he and Aunt Rosey grew up and where Grandpa and Grams lived throughout my childhood. 15 Blackburn. Row houses that served as company housing for those who worked at the Youngstown Sheet and Tube Company. Just a street over, the row houses have been refurbished, but this set was left to deteriorate. Judging by the trash that has been left behind, I am sure they are being used for unsavory acts by desperate people. Units are peppered here and there by some remaining tenants, but I am not sure if they actually own them or have just laid claimed to them through squatting.

Willy lives next door to 15 Blackburn. My Dad had told me all about Willy as he had come in contact with him on the several occasions he has visited his childhood home. At first glance, Willy can be somewhat intimidating. Especially for this suburban neighborhood girl and her daughter who have never explored in an area quite this lively. Self-proclaimed crazy, Willy is a sweetheart. I immediately felt at ease with him. After all, what exactly is normal anyway? And if you are willing to admit your issues right off the bat, you are A-OK with me! Not so sure Willy is a legitimate tenant, but I don't much care. I like having him there.

15 Blackburn - middle house - there used to be a stone porch rail. One of my fondest memories is sitting on the porch glider, playing with a bucketful of lead Amish figurines. I also remember playing "Mr. Magoo" - a board game - on that same porch and in the basement on colder days. We couldn't go down to the basement because, obviously, there is no electricity for lighting.

Row houses to the left - 15 Blackburn on far right, last one with stone:

What is left of the kitchen. Pretty amazing that my Grandpa built the cabinets and they are still there after all these years of destruction. From the kitchen looking into the living room:
The very narrow stairs:
Grams and Grandpa's bedroom. I do not remember if they had it pink or if a subsequent owner painted it pink. My Grandpa also made these cabinets.
The room shared by my Dad and Aunt Rosey:
Next my Dad navigated us into Struthers, 681 5th Street. The home where my Mom and her sisters grew up and Papa lived until the late 1970's. Some of the warmest fuzzies of my childhood. Unfortunately, as you can tell by the pictures, the house has been left to deteriorate. I so badly wanted to go inside, but it was well secured. I guess that is a good thing. I did peek into the windows and found the inside to be in a fair amount of destruction. The kitchen seemed to have the very same wallpaper I remember as a child, worse for the wear, but none-the-less, the same. If I had been able to stay in Ohio longer (the whole summer would have been nice!), I would have definitely called the real estate company for a tour.
I remember this little porch area being enclosed when I was a child. There was a white picket fence gate when my mom was little.
The window facing the garage and the dormer window are from the bedroom my my Mom, her twin sister, Aunt Sylvia, and Aunt Dee Dee shared. It is also the room I got to sleep in when I stayed there. I loved that room! There was a little door leading to storage (with many treasures to be unearthed) on on the back wall of the room and the window facing the street was a window seat with storage underneath. Man oh man, they made such wonderful nooks and crannies back then! I do hope someone buys this house and restores it to its former beauty. I wish I could pick it up and take it home!
Meandering through Austintown, we came across the duplex on Rhode Island where my parents lived when I was born:
We didn't stay on Rhode Island very long after I was born; our next home being on Lancaster (in Austintown as well). We lived in the Lancaster house (below) until I was about five. I can still recall a few memories from that home; although I am unsure if they are actually from memory or from stories and photos. "Running away" (and subsequently being punished), the teenage girl next door, swinging on my swing set. Yes, in my four-year old mind, I actually thought by crossing the street (absolutely forbidden) with well-packed accessories in tow, I was running away. And I proceeded to tell everyone exactly what I was doing. I'd like to think I got a little more clever with time and experience. 4019 Shelbourne, where we lived from the time I was five through the middle of 3rd Grade, has memories of mud pies, skinned knees, a hurt bird, insisting on seeing Santa's reindeer on the roof (maybe explaining my obsession with reindeer), choking on a quarter (no, I have no idea why I was trying swallow a quarter), pretending David Cassidy was my husband, and peeing my pants the very first day we moved in.

5771 Sharon Drive. The favorite. For almost nine years, from mid-3rd Grade to October of my Senior year, this was truly home. In every sense of the word. Cupcakes waiting when we got home from school (and I wonder where my cupcake fetish comes from?!). Sitting by the front dining room window watching storms come in. By that same window, feeling both the warmth of the heating register and the cold from the bitter winter - what a sensation! My very pink room. Homemade walkie-talkie chats and a clothesline with notes going back and forth with Joann who was right next door (for those times I was grounded). Hanging out my window talking with friends. Sneaking out the downstairs window to. . .oh, wait a minute, the statute of limitations might not be up! (and why, in the name of vanilla bean cupcakes, did we not just use one of the three doors leading outside?) The most fabulous front and back porches to linger on. Shucking corn on that back porch. Eating at the picnic table in the backyard in the summer. Picking clothes off the clothesline and having beetle bugs attached to them. Easters celebrated with the grass finally peeking through the snow. Harry the squirrel. The cardinals and blue jays (not baseball teams!). Catching frogs and minnows in the creek. Exploring the woods. Planting in the garden. Finding a garter snake. The hustle and bustle of having friends and family in the house. Feeling safe.

The original Sparkle Market in Cornersburg. I still remember how careful my Mom was while grocery shopping. She used the "envelope method" before there was a formal name for it. She would drag us all (ugh!) to several different stores, depending on where that week's deals were, an envelope of cash for each store. She made wonderful, home cooked meals each and every night of the week out of her budget conscious finds.

St. Christine's Church. Baptism, 1st Communion, and Confirmation; and Sunday School in between. The best summertime festival ever. Jeanne and I getting stink eye from Father Kelly during Mass (we deserved it).

St. Nicholas Church in Struthers. Mom, Aunt Sylvia, and Aunt Dee Dee grew up in this Church and my Mom & Dad were married here:

Saint Lucy's in Campbell where my Aunt Sylvia currently attends and where we had my Mom's Memorial Service:

A summer I'll always remember. A walk I'll never forget.