October magically disappears

Way back in September, I wrote about my Grandmother's birthday, some disappointing events in my life and how I drew encouragement from my family. Since then, My grandmother has died, I made a trip back to Kansas and helped produce a Halloween haunted house as a fundraiser for my son's school. Somewhere amid all of that October disappeared.

Traditionally, October is a difficult time of year, my parents' anniversary is Oct. 4, my mother died on Oct. 6 and her birthday was Oct. 17, so that makes for a melancholy month. But me and my family revel in Halloween. We used to throw a huge Halloween party for all of our friends, but with circumstances being what they are this year, we had to let that tradition go.

I thought it was going to be a quiet, fun Halloween spent at my friend Linda's place. It was on a Saturday this year, so we had been talking about spending the entire day together, culminating with taking the kids trick-or-treating as we had the last few years.

We were mistaken.

The PTSO at my son's school had this idea come up about throwing a haunted house fundraiser for the school. We hashed it around a bit and were on the verge of canceling it when an unbelievable opportunity manifested itself. I won't go into the gory details, but before I knew it Linda, me and our new-found friend Cathy Derley were all coordinating this event that grew monstrous before our eyes.

It was exhausting, frustrating, rewarding, thrilling, fun and exciting all at the same time. It did, however, overshadow that nice, quiet little Halloween Saturday we had planned. It also consumed the entire month, and was the biggest bash I have ever had a part in throwing.

Somewhere in the middle of the planning for this event, my grandmother, who had turned 100 at the end of August, died. Her burial ceremony was set for Oct. 16, the day before my mother's birthday. This added another layer of sadness to the month.

While the circumstances for the trip back to Kansas were grim, and the trip itself was a quick one, it was nice to be back in the shelter of my family, if only for a few days. Being with them lends me a strength and ability to appreciated the life I've had and the people I've shared it with.

The busyness of the haunted house was therapy for me, as well. It helped me let go of the sadness and melancholy that usually consume the month of October. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and a chance to work on and complete a big project. It's also given me a bit of an emotional boost and lots and lots of memories and new friends.

The job hunt is ongoing, although jobs to apply for are few and far between. I still haven't given up, though and am looking almost every day for new opportunities. Nov. 6 was the anniversary of the layoff announcement. It's hard to believe it's been a year.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to Morgan's 4th birthday. He wants a shark birthday party. I never thought finding invitations and party supplies for a shark birthday would be so difficult, but apparently it is. So, it's off to a new challenge, creating invitations and figuring out how to make a shark birthday cake.

It's back to one step at a time and making my own happiness.

A summer roller coaster ride

A lot of things have been going on the past few months and I thought I'd wait until the roller coaster ride was over before I wrote my review.

First there was my foray into business ventures. I spent a good part of the last three months doing my due diligence, marketing research and writing a business plan in order secure funding to buy a business.

It was hard, I learned a lot, I found a few mentors and, in the end, I still don't have a business.

Make no mistake, I have no regrets about going through the process. The people at SCORE and WEV are amazing, caring people, and if you ever have an idea for a business, check in with these people. They have the expertise to get you on the right foot and up and running.

I learned so much: how to write a business plan, how to prepare a table of start-up costs, how to correctly do a profit and loss statement, how to project a 12-month earnings statement. It was very educational. I also learned I wasn't as clueless about the business end of things as I had been led to believe.

My only regret is that the person I was hoping to buy the business from wasn't as open with me as I was with her. After getting everything in order and turning it in to the review board, I notified the business owner of the timetable -- six to eight weeks with an answer by the end of August. She never said this would be a problem. I warned her she wouldn't hear from me during that time as there would be nothing to report.

As my loan review date approached, I emailed the business owner, letting her know exactly when I would get an answer. Her reply stated that she had sold the business to someone else.

I wasn't really sure what to think. I'd spent months on the phone with her and working with her. She knew how much I wanted this and how hard I had worked, but she never thought to tell me there was another buyer.

I was devastated on many levels. I had hoped this would be my answer to being unemployed. It felt good to be taking action, and I was excited about owning my own business. It's easier to remain optimistic when you're actively pursuing something, too. I was also eager to be generating some income.

When I opened that email, my heart sank. Fear found a foothold and my faith in my fellow human beings dropped to an all-time low. It's hard for me to fathom that someone wouldn't have the common courtesy to make a phone call.

On the same day that I found out about losing the business opportunity, in fact, in the next few moments, I got a call for an interview from a company I had sent my resume to a couple months ago. It's a great job. I think both interviews I've had with them went well. It's a job I can do well, a job I would find challenging and enjoyable. I'm once again excited about something, and I hope it works out (cross your fingers).

The day after this, we loaded up the car and went to Oregon for my grandmother's 100th birthday. It was a fabulous weekend. I was able to reconnect with family members I hadn't seen in more than 20 years. There's nothing like a good dose of family to lift the spirits.

As I was listening to my grandma and all her relatives talk about their lives, I thought about what they've lived through. Their parents immigrated from Russia, they lived through the Depression and both World Wars. My grandmother has lost her husband, her daughter and several of her siblings. Through it all, she's picked herself up and endured with love and strength and perhaps a little sadness, too. But, she's strong and so is my family.

My aunt reminded me that when a door closes, at least a window opens somewhere. You may have to crawl through it and get battered a bit along the way, but something good will come from the experience.

I gained strength from being with my family. And, like my grandmother, I'll pick myself up and keep going.

Right now I'm looking at all the gifts I've been given.

I have a wonderful husband, two adorable boys and a supportive family, even if they're all miles away. I was able to spend at least one glorious summer with my sons, going to the beach, going to movies, playing video games, reading and just horsing around. That is something I never thought I'd be able to do.

I've learned a lot about myself.

I don't like housework and no matter how much time I have on my hands, there will always be something better to do. I realized how much of myself I'd given away to work. I've learned to balance my life better. I've rediscovered they joys of cooking, art and crafts. I've benefited from quality time with friends.

I've also realized that despite the dwindling bank account, my life is rich. Rich with an amazing, colorful family and friends that are worth more than fine gold.

I've also realized that it's taken me losing my job to make me slow down and take stock of what I have and not take it for granted. Life is beautiful despite its roller coaster ride, or just maybe it's more beautiful because of it.

Once a bookworm, always a bookworm

Now that I have more "free" time - or at least time that I'm not tied to a desk owned by someone else, I'm reacquainting myself with the library.

When I was working and wanted to read a book, I'd cart myself over to the nearest bookstore and pick it up or order it online. I always thought of books as an investment, or priceless treasures. And still do.

Now that there is no room for disposable income in my budget - mainly since there is NO income from my side of the marriage - I'm rediscovering the joys of going to the library. And, I get to share those moments of discovery with my children.

I think I've mentioned before that I was a bit of an awkward child. I didn't have a whole lot of friends and did have a whole lot of time on my hands in the summers. We lived about two blocks from the library, and I spent most of my summer days, along with my older brother, combing the stacks for adventure. All the librarians knew us by name.

By the time I was in fifth grade, I had read all of "Nancy Drew," a good portion of the "Hardy Boys" and numerous other classics like "Charlotte's Web" and "Tom Sawyer." Books were my best friends and my great escape.

In my room, there was this great bay window with a rose bush outside that was perfect for spending the day curled up and reading. I still remember looking out the window at the end of Charlotte's Web with tears rolling down my cheeks. Yeah, I was an ole softy then, too.

We didn't go on very many vacations as a child, but that didn't matter much as long as I was able to get my hands on a book to read. Books took me all over the world on adventures through time, space, faerie, etc.

Now, I get to watch Gabe's eyes light up as he tells me what's happening in the "Warriors" series or as he tells me how exciting the "Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators Series" is. That one I remember reading as a kid, only I was probably a little older than Gabe at the time.

Morgan is excited by Dave Pilkey's "Kat Kong" and "Dogzilla." It doesn't matter how many times I read them, they still tickle his funny bone. When it's time to get new books, he goes straight for them.

So, when we head for the library, I send the boys off to the children's section and I go roaming the stacks for my own treasures. We all convene in the children's area and compare adventures. And we usually leave with an armload of books, many more than if we had to buy them.

I personally think everyone should find at least an hour out of their day to check out the local libraries and see what they have to offer. They just might be surprised at how rewarding that experience can be.

Life is a beach

Now that summer is in full swing and both my boys are home all day, we've been trying to find rhythm and variety of things to do. This may be why you haven't heard from me much. It's hard to have enough clarity to write in between SpongeBob, video games and being outside.

Some of the things we've been doing this summer include swimming lessons (Thanks Lisa), the Ventura Aquatic Center, weekly movies with the Regal Cinemas' Family Film Festival, brushing up on our video game skills, going to the library, reading and going to the beach.

Of these, I think our favorite has been going to the beach. It just doesn't get any better than packing a lunch, stretching out on the beach and playing in the sand and the surf.

We pack up the beach blanket, sand toys, towels, beach chairs, a good book and the backpack cooler with food and drinks and head out for the day. It doesn't matter how long we've been there, we're never quite ready to pack up and go home.

Sometimes we go with friends, sometimes it's just me and the boys, but we never have a bad time. Gabe has started playing in the waves more and is showing an interest in bodyboarding. Morgan is content in digging big holes and jumping in and out of them. When it comes to the water, he mostly likes to chase the waves.

For me, I just like walking on the sand and watching my kids and the waves. No matter my worries or concerns, they all seem to melt away knowing that there are much bigger things in life than my problems. It helps me put life in perspective. For me, going to the beach is a healing experience.

Everyone is happy to be there. Everyone is having fun. It's a joy to see my children discover crabs, starfish and sea anemones; seek sand dollars; and create sculptures with sand and seaweed.

The entire experience feeds their imaginations. Morgan likes to play Godzilla climbing out of the water and smashing the sand city he's built.

It gives them a sense of discovery, and wears them out. They come home calm and collected, a little tired, but very content.

I count my blessing that I live close to the beach. That I have the opportunity to wash away my trouble in the sand and sea, and that I can spend this golden summer with my two beautiful sunshine boys!

Imagination evaporation

What happens to our imaginations as we get older?

My oldest son, Gabriel, went to a camp this week. Camp Invention. It was pretty cool. They learned all about science and physics and inventing during the week. Today, they had a little expo where their family members came to view their inventions and creations.

I was impressed by all the creative problem-solving these elementary school students came up with. The older students created Rube Goldberg machines, complex devices that perform simple tasks in indirect, convoluted ways, that were to catapult and smash a rotten egg. Each team came up with something different. They were made out of coffee maker parts, Walkman's and other discarded appliance and recyclable items like paper towel rolls, boxes, egg cartons, etc.

Their machine designs and plans were some of the most creative drawings I've seen in a long time.

They let their imaginations run wild with nothing to stop them and all the encouragement in the world from the camp counselors.

It did get me thinking about how my imagination has been stunted by the rules, discouragement and years of working for the Man. Somewhere along the way, I lost my desire to create and be artistic. I lost my joy of simply silly and beautiful creations made for creation's sake. I began to produce.

Somewhere along the line, everything I did had to have purpose and meaning beyond being silly or beautiful.

I still dabble with scrapbooking and design and painting and crafts, but it's usually with a specific goal, such as organizing my photos for my family, making presents for various holidays, cooking a meal, etc. It's rarely for the simple purpose of expressing myself or exercising my imagination. It only happens when all the chores are done and everything is in its place, which means rarely.

I think that is one thing that being home with my kids has taught me. I need to get in touch with my inner child again and relearn how to be silly and imaginative. I'd forgotten how happy those simple pleasures make me.

My youngest, Morgan, is probably the most imaginative person I have ever known. He creates entire worlds out of nothing at all. He comes up with the most amazing and detailed stories you've ever heard. He doesn't care that sometimes they don't make much sense in the real world. They make perfect sense to him and that is all that matters. It is a beautiful thing.

I hope he never loses touch with that imaginative side of himself.

... and Gabe's invention?

He created something called an "Attractor" that attracts his little brother when Morgan is being a bit too imaginative, and annoying, for Gabriel's comfort.

Farewell my furry friend

I've been hibernating lately.

Sometimes, you just have to disappear for a while.

We had to put Dizzy to sleep on June 9, and I've been nursing a bit of depression. I find myself missing the darnedest things - the exact things she did that drove me crazy, such as snorting in the middle of the night to let us know she needed to go out, despite the fact that there is a doggie door and she could let herself out. I also miss her hanging out underfoot in the kitchen and eating anything and everything that fell on the floor.

There are a lot more crumbs under Morgan's chair than there had been before, and I find myself sweeping and mopping in the kitchen more often, too, always with Dizzy in mind.

We finally broke down and put her food and water bowls away. We washed her bed and stored it in case we get another dog someday.

I took the boys to the dog pound this week to see what options there were, but none of us seemed too eager to find another dog just yet. I think I just wanted to go to hear the barking.

When Toto died last year, it was a little easier. We didn't love him any less, but we had Dizzy to transfer that love to and to remind us of him. Now, with her gone, it's like we're grieving for both of them.

Our oldest son, Gabriel, went with us to Anacapa Animal Hospital. He wanted to be there to tell her goodbye. I was proud of him for wanting to show her how much he loved her by being there. He took it really hard, but knows it was for the best. After he said goodbye, he waited in the lobby with Eric.

I stayed with Dizzy. She went to sleep in my arms.

The staff at Anacapa made a paw print for us. I plan to put it up on the TV with a picture of Dizzy right next to the one of Toto.

Morgan, who was at the baby sitter's house that day, was quite upset when he realized we forgot to take Dizzy's bed with us. That's when I decided I really needed to remove it from it's homey spot right in front of the fireplace.

Morgan asked me the other day when she was going to come home. We told him Dizzy is playing with Toto and is in a much better place. He's made the connection and knows she died now, but he still misses her - so do the rest of us.

Some roads end too soon

We've recently been confronted with some heavy decisions lately. Ones our hearts and our heads cannot reconcile.

Our beautiful, furry friend and companion, Dizzy, isn't doing well. She's an old dog. Fifteen by human years. She's not the most graceful pup, nor is she the brightest bulb, but when it comes to love, she makes up for it in spades.

We adopted Dizzy in 1995. We were living in Texas and had been talking about getting a companion for our dog Toto. He died a couple of years ago. He was my first baby, and losing him was heartbreaking and unexpected.

Back then, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and I was having a tough time dealing with it. While I was back in Kansas helping her, my husband went to see a litter of pups. They were Pomeranians, just like Toto. Eric thought a dog might help. He was right.

When I got back into town, he surprised me by taking me to a house I'd never seen and telling me to pick out a puppy. The dogs were adorable, racing each other down the hall, hopping all over each other to be the first into the backyard. They were a playful lot and it was tough to choose one.

I was looking at a cream-colored little fur ball and sat down cross-legged to get a better look at her, when this sable-colored dog with big brown eyes pushed her way into my lap and claimed me for her own.

Dizzy has always known what she's wanted. She's always made it clear. Ball, food, treats and lots and lots of love and attention.

She's a crazy little dog who was out for trouble, damn the consequences.

When she was about 4 months old, she jumped off the bed at breakneck speed and promptly broke her right leg. She spent forever in the cast and lost a ton of playtime, for which she made up as soon as the cast was removed. That is not to say that the cast really ever slowed her down. She'd go thumping all over the house, dragging whatever stuffed toy was her favorite and threatening to tear it to shreds in frustration at her limited movement.

Her favorite things to do were play ball, snatch birds out of the air and chase down horny toads in our back yard, that's when she and Toto weren't up to no good and digging under the fence to roam the neighborhood. I can't even count the number of times they snuck out of the back yard only to show up scratching at the front door or lounging on the front steps, lying in wait for the mailman.

Dizzy was our Tasmanian Devil. Full of mischief to Toto's aloof attitude.

She's mellowed out a lot over the years, becoming a beloved companion for our 3-year-old. When Toto died, Morgan kind of stepped up as Dizzy's best friend. He follows her around and hugs her, pets her and tells her she's beautiful despite her gaseous nature and horrible breath.

She stays up with me late into the night when I read or watch TV, always there looking for some love and attention, curled up on her bed in front of the fireplace. When we go to sleep, she crawls beneath the bed and lays down for the night, always wanting to be in our presence.

She's also our alarm clock.

I'm not sure when she decided that 5 a.m. is the time to be fed, but pretty close to 5 every morning she'll wake us up and won't take no for an answer. It may have something to do with Eric getting up at 5:30 a.m. Although I'm not sure who trained who.

Dizzy is 15 now. We think her esophagus is collapsing. The vet says it's pretty common for Poms. It could be her heart, though. The exam to determine what the problem is costs $500. The cures are heart surgery at $10,000 or placing a stent in her esophagus, which again runs into the thousands.

With me not working, neither is an option. The best we can do for her is give her some cough medicine to easy her pain and pray it isn't her heart. Either way, the end is coming. I can hear it in her rasping breath and see it in her eyes when she stares at me for help that I can't give as she stuggles with a coughing fit.

I feel helpless. She was there for me when I needed her, but I can't seem to be able to return the favor. I feel like I'm letting her down. I hear the accusation with every cough.

I'm not sure what life will be like without her. It will be quieter, the air will be a little fresher, we may get a little more sleep, but there will be an immense emptiness. And if it's anything like when Toto died, the pain won't ease any time soon.

She's family and always will be. She's marked us in so many ways. We love you, Dizzy.