Find Me

I've changed the music playing in my CD player; no more sad violin, for now. Instead, I'm listening to Margaret Becker. She is my favourite artist. Her music allows me to worship, to rock out, and to turn introspective. This song hit a chord with me today; it is from the album The Reckoning.

Find Me

I'm gonna move on down to Elliston
Let my hair grow wild and free
Rent a second story studio
Find the other side of me
I'm gonna sit out on the edge of the fire escape
Feel a little destitute
Search for the feelings that will help me remember
The love that I had for You

Find me, find me
I'll wait for You
Find me, find me
I'll wait for You

I'm gonna give away my stereo
Give away my TV
I'm going back to essentials, a chair and a lamp
And the Book that You wrote to me
You see, I'm looking for the You that used to speak so clear
I'm looking for the me that had a heart to hear
And I'm looking for the passion that held me here
On the edge

Find me, find me
I'll wait for You
Find me, find me
I'll wait for you

You see, I'm looking for the me that I used to know
I'm looking for the love that was out of control
'Cause I feel a little cold here in the afterglow

Find me, find me
I'll wait for You

Strike Out!

So, the teachers in our province have given strike notice effective this Wednesday. At this point, they will still teach and supervise extra-curricular activities, but they will not carry out a list of other activities. Each of my children came home today with a letter outlining what these activities will be and how this job action will affect schooling.

Most of the activities are administrative: not attending staff meetings or professional development days; not completing or submitting student assessments or referrals; not even accepting any form of communication from the Principal or school district; no doing inventory or organizing textbooks or answering school office phones.

Yet, there are some actions that will have far greater impact on parents and students. There will be no recess, so students will be dismissed from school 15 minutes early at the end of the day. Older students lose their nutrition break. Teachers will not distribute newsletters to the students, nor will they prepare or distribute report cards.

There's more of course; the list covers nearly an entire page of paper, and if the strike continues, there could be rotating work stoppages.

I admit that I am miffed by this strike. I know several teachers personally and have not met very many "bad" teachers. Teachers work hard, give far more of themselves than they ever receive back, and deserve to be treated fairly and with respect. But, as a parent, I don't like having my children's education suffer in the process.

While kids may not miss having a report card, I want to see how my kids are doing, where they struggle and where they excel. I want to read communication from the school; I like to know what is going on in the school community. I want my children to have access to whatever resource they may need to learn and succeed.

Last week, Casey's teacher and the learning assistance teacher were all ready to give me an appointment to discuss Casey's progress and areas needing help. They set a time, but it didn't work for me. I sent a note today letting these teachers know when I would be available for this meeting. Instead, I received a phone call from Casey's teacher saying that Casey wouldn't be seeing the learning assistance teacher for a long time. I can't help but connect this new time frame with the impending teacher's strike.

Casey is doing well so far this year. His spelling is still awful, but he's much improved from last year. I'm not terrible upset about the lack of learning assistance for him at this point, but I do worry how this strike might affect Sam.

Sam is doing okay so far, but I know he'll need help. I sent a note this morning asking how to go about ensuring that Sam receives help in math and English. I was quite surprised when his math teacher called me after school today. He let me know that Sam is already on an adapted learning outcome, and he is more than available to help Sam whenever he needs it. This teacher also let me know that if, and when, Sam needs more specific assistance, that I can call the learning assistance teacher, but I might need to be quite demanding. Apparently, the LATs spend most of their time helping students with a modified learning outcome and tend to be slow and hesitant to help those with only an adapted outcome. I understand and appreciate that there are students with greater needs than Sam, but it does surprise me that I would have to be pushy in order to get Sam help that he needs.

I agree that teachers need more money in the school systems, so long as it actually benefits the students. Smaller class sizes would be wonderful, but maybe they should stop closing down schools first. It's the kids that suffer when the government cuts back the education budget. The kids are still the ones that suffer when teachers strike and protest.

I'm just glad that I don't have to worry about daycare or the disruption of an earlier dismissal. Not yet anyway.

In My Shoes

Sad news today. A man we've known for some time passed away a few days ago. Kane and I last saw this man and his wife close to a year ago. He had been sick for some time battling cancer but seemed well when we saw him. He's with the Lord now. It would be nice to go to the funeral on Tuesday, but this is something I'll have to play by ear.

We have a busy week ahead of us. There are a few new activities beginning this week, plus regular activities. Here is the a snapshot of my week:

Monday-I work from 9am to 2pm. Casey and Abby are finished school at 2:30; Sam at 3:09. Sam has hockey evaluations at 5:45pm to 6:45pm. I'll be taking him there, while Kane will take the other two to their floor hockey league from 6:30pm to 8:30pm. I will probably have my regular girls' night out at 7:30pm...assuming that I'm not wiped out by then.

Tuesday-Sam has hockey evaluations from 6:45pm to 7:45pm. The funeral for our acquaintance is at 1pm.

Wednesday-It is quite likely that the kids will get dismissed from school 15 minutes earlier from today on as part of job action for the teachers' strike. Casey and Abby for sure, but I don't know about Sam. Middle school students don't have recess which is why the other two get out early. No recess during this phase of the strike. Casey and Abby will need to deliver newspapers very promptly after school. Sam won't be coming home right away as he has cross-country running after. He'll take the team bus across the city for a race at 4:30pm. Abby has a music club at church which runs from 3:30pm to 4:45pm. Kane is hoping to pick Abby up, so I can make it to Sam's race. Parents need to pick their kids up after the race anyway. Then, at 7:00pm, Sam has junior youth and Casey has a club for grade 5/6 students. Thankfully, both are at our church!

Thursday-You know, I think this day is actually free! Well, so far free from external activities anyway.

Friday-we're meeting at 9:30am with immediate family at the cemetery to see my grandpa's ashes placed in my grandmother's grave. His memorial service begins at 11:00am with a lunch to follow. The kids have newspapers to deliver before supper. I would imagine that we'll also have some kind of family gathering with relatives. The last time everyone was all together was nearly a year ago for my step-grandmother's funeral. How sad!

Saturday-I work from 8:30am to 12:30pm. Sam has hockey evaluation from 6:45am to 8:15am. The rest of our day is free.

Sunday-I work from 11:00am to 3:00pm. I'm disappointed about that, especially since Greg Sczebel will be performing during the service. He's a somewhat local musician who is simply awesome! I think we'll go for the 9:30am service and leave after worship, so I can get to work on time.

So, that is how the week is looking. Of course, I haven't accounted for all the mundane aspects of life. Laundry still needs to be done. Monday has been my laundry day for the past few years, but it won't be this week. One of my sisters will be arriving in town sometime this week. She's living in Ontario but coming for the funeral. I have a house to clean, meals to make, homework to help with, baking to bake, books to read, and TV shows to watch. Books and TV are great for escaping!

In fact, I just finished a good book today. In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner. I had read another of her books a few weeks ago, enjoyed it and put some more of her titles on hold at the library. It wasn't until I received this book that I realized has been made into a movie starring Cameron Diaz and Toni Collette. I'd heard of the movie before being aware of this book and had mentally written the movie off. Now that I've read the book, I am eager to see the movie. I only hope they do the story justice. I loved the book. I want a copy to sit on my bookshelf to be pulled out and read on a regular basis. In many ways, I saw my reflection in this story. Of course, it wasn't a perfect reflection; there are so many differences! But, I can really identify with the two sisters.

Apples, Funerals, and Violins

The house smells great...cinnamon and apples. Fall has arrived, and there is a chill in the air. The kids do not have school today, so I am baking. An apple pie and some apple cinnamon muffins are cooling on the counter. So many apples yet to use up!

Life is moving on as it always does. There is no rest for the weary, no reprieve for the frazzled. Still, I am doing well.

My grandpa's funeral is a week from today. It seems so far away; too distant to even really blip on the radar. Yet, I know that it will be here before I know it.

I have cried and, in a way, I am mourning, but life is too busy and the funeral too far to truly feel the full effect of this loss yet. In a week, I will be a puddle of saline. I know I will be.

In the meantime, there is work to be done and things to do. I have a four hour shift at work tomorrow. Five hours on Monday. Casey and Abby have floor hockey Monday night. Wednesday is the craziest of days. Abby has a music club at 3:30 until 4:30. Sam has a cross country race at 4:30 and junior youth group at 7pm. Casey has his kids' club at 7pm. Somewhere in there, I need to meet with Casey's teacher and the learning assistance teacher. My sister will be arriving sometime in the middle of the week from Ontario; I assume she'll be staying with us. Other relatives will be arriving at some point. We don't have room to hold anymore, but I am sure that we might need to open our home for visiting. No problem.

The funeral is Friday. At 9:30am, there will be a small, private "ceremony" at the cemetery to see his ashes placed in my grandmother's grave. The memorial service itself begins at 11am with a lunch to follow. It will be a long day.

I work on the Saturday and Sunday for four hours each day. Short enough shifts to go quickly, but I'm a little disappointed about having to work the day after the funeral. I suppose my boss' sympathy only goes so far. It isn't a terribly big deal really. Who knows? It might even be a welcome diversion and reprieve from a crush of relatives.
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Sam competed in his first cross-country race this past Wednesday. The course was about 3.5 km, fairly level terrain. He finished with a time of 20:51. He had missed the first practice because of a doctor's appointment and had virtually no training. I am so proud of his performance. He did very well for his first time!
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I have been reading a lot lately; I have a lot of free time on my hands but no mental energy to work on weightier projects. I've also been listening to Itzhak Perlman a lot. I love the violin, and he plays beautifully. It fits my internal mood quite well. Violin music is beautiful, emotional, sometimes melancholic but it can also be energetic and moving. It is introspective. Perhaps that is part of the reason why I love the sound of violins so much-the music permeates every fibre of my being and moves me emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Passed Away

My grandpa passed from this life to the next around 4pm this afternoon. I didn't find out until I got home from work shortly after 9pm. Expecting it doesn't make the news any easier to swallow. Tears have already sprung with many more yet to shed, but at least, there is hope in the sorrow. And peace.

My grandpa felt regret that he left so little of a legacy for his family. Knowing that he felt this way is enough to bring me to tears. My grandpa was rich in the things that mattered, and the legacy he left is incredible. I have been blessed to have godly grandparents, and many of my childhood memories of my grandpa remind me of his faith in a living God. That is all the legacy that I need.

The Stage is Set

I didn't have time to finish my previous post. It would have been a lengthy one, I think. This may not be the best time for me to write more about my day, but it would be too easy to allow these thoughts and feelings to simply be absorbed without consideration. If that makes sense...

I am exhausted today. I was alert enough for work, but once I was back home...it has been a rapid decline. It is only 8:30pm and I am highly tempted to close my eyes for the night.

Kane and I did not sleep well last night. We went to bed at 11pm as we often do. We were asleep quickly but not for long. The phone rang at 11:30, and I stumbled down the hall in the dark, without my glasses, hoping to locate the phone before the voice mail kicked in. I made it to the phone in time; it was a Constable from Victoria asking for Kane.

Hell broke loose in my brother-in-law's house late last night, and the overflow reached through the phone line into our home. The RCMP had our sister-in-law in a holding cell for the night. She was very drunk and hysterical; she'd even attacked the constables. Apparently, she had been banging on neighbours' doors and running up and down the street with bloodied hands. In hysterics. She couldn't find her daughter-her husband had taken her daughter.

The only thing the constable had been able to get out of Pat was our phone number. Kane got a bit of information from the constable before the call was abruptly terminated. She, the constable, called back about fifteen minutes later to explain the situation further and to ask Kane for some background information. After that, Kane tried calling Brent on his cell phone but could only leave a voice mail message asking him to please call us.

Once more our sleep was interrupted...just when I had finally fallen back asleep. Again, it was the constable wanting more information, etc. Naturally, being the worrier that he is, Kane couldn't come back to bed right away. I lay in bed unable to fall back asleep for some time. Instead, I tossed and turned; my hip joints weren't allowing me to stay on either side for too long at a time. I knew that I was going to loathe the alarm this morning. I was right.

Kane left two messages last night on Brent's cell phone. He didn't return the call until sometime today when no one was home. Even then, his voice had that annoyingly saccharine tone to it, and he simply said they were fine. Gee, thanks for all the information!

Pat called this morning about a half hour before I went to work. I was the only one home and debated whether to answer or not. I did. She asked if we had received a phone call last night from Brent or the police. Yes, the police. I mentioned that Kane had tried calling Brent, but we hadn't heard anything from him. She hadn't yet either but was now at home having slept off the booze in jail. She cried, told me she was sick and feeling isolated, and asked us to tell Brent to call her. Assuming that he would call us. Frankly, I'm surprised he even bothered!

So, that was our night and the reason for our exhaustion. I'm so tired that I can't even begin to feel anything emotionally about this situation. I know that there are emotions swirling somewhere. How could there not be? I feel too much, but today I am too numb and tired to process anything.

After work, I received more bad news. Nursing staff now believes that my grandfather has only 48 to 72 hours left; he is in rapid decline.

Tears are splashing against the surface, threatening to overflow. It will happen. Soon. Sometime. Because of the faith that I have and because of the faith that my grandpa has, I know that there is something glorious about to happen. My grandpa will soon be ushered into Jesus' presence. No more cancer. No more pain. No more bones shattered and ravaged. Simply joy! And peace. I know this as much as I know that grass is green and the sky is blue. I know it and take comfort in this truth. Yet, faith does not erase the pain of loss. It does not smooth away all traces of sorrow. This pain, this sorrow is temporary and earthly, and I am human. Flesh and blood.

There has been so much drama played out between these familial walls. I've long since grown weary of the repetition, the heartache, the stupidity and folly of people I love. Still, I cannot walk out of this theatre; I'm firmly entrenched. I thought once that I was merely an observer sitting in my padded seat, far enough back from the stage as to be obscured by the dark. How wrong I was! I am no mere observer. I am a participant, an actor on the stage of life. I may not enjoy the story being acted out, but I do have a part to play, words to say, and actions to carry out. Perhaps the real tragedy isn't in the story but in my lines and actions?

TGIF!

Today was my second training shift. Time went relatively quickly, though my break was once again nearly forgotten. I think I'm finally beginning to understand the till. It really isn't terribly complicated, but there are a lot of buttons and sub-menus to find. And, of course, the correct sequencing for entering sandwiches, soups, and combos. Aargh!

The worst part of the shift was when I was supposed to be off at 3pm. My trainer was also off at three, and she conveniently disappeared, leaving me to continue taking orders from the line of people at the counter. By the time that all cleared away, I felt like I had to beg before someone else would cover the counter. Then just as I am getting ready to leave, someone tells me that I need to clear all the dining room tables before I leave. At this point, it was already 3:15 and I was in a hurry.

Sam was expecting me to pick him up at school which ended at 3:09. Actually, he was to meet me on a side street near the school, because the parking lot is a zoo before and after school. So, I had no way to let him know that I was on my way; just running late. If he didn't wait there for me, I had no idea which way he would walk home, and I needed to be at the elementary school to pick Casey and Abby up at 3:30. At 3:15, I wasn't really thrilled about being told to clear the tables before I left. But, I did it anyway and saved my fuming for the solitude of my van. Of course, by the time I picked up Sam it was 3:25, and he had begun to worry. We hadn't discussed what to do if I was late, but we've covered it now. We arrived at the elementary school just as Casey and Abby were getting ready to walk out the doors.

I don't mind clearing tables before I leave for home, but my trainer shouldn't have signed out and left without letting me know and making sure I was doing the same. And really, it wouldn't have been as big a deal if I wasn't in a rush to pick up my kids.

The Organ

Memories are interesting things. They float in and out of our lives, popping in when we least expect them, yet disappearing at the very moment we wish to bring it to mind. Memories are elusive and wispy like tendrils of fog in the heat of the morning sun. They can vanish for months or years only to slap us across the face unexpectedly.

Sunday afternoon, I walked in my house to find my grandpa's organ in my living room. It took me by surprise even though I knew that it would be arriving sometime that day; I just hadn't expected it so quickly. Instantly, my kids were thrilled and excited and eager to touch and play. I don't know quite how to categorize my reaction. Bittersweet, maybe.

This is the organ that I grew up hearing played by my grandpa on Sunday mornings before church every time we visited. This is the organ that I would sit at as a child and attempt to play with my unskilled hands. Pushing the various coloured buttons created a symphony of sounds and rhythms. Strings, horns, marches, rumbas, waltzes, tremelos, and so on.

Now, here the organ sits in my house with my children clamboring to play with unskilled hands. So much like their mother many years ago. And with the warmth of those memories comes the chill of knowing what is yet to come. My grandpa's organ is here because he can no longer play. He couldn't sit on the bench to play even if I begged him to. I don't even know that he would be lucid enough to remember how to play. Lastly, he no longer has a fixed address.

His apartment is now empty and cleaned and soon to belong to someone else. Grandpa won't be returning to his home or any other earthly home. More of his possessions sit in my carport waiting for my mother to sort and parcel everything out to relatives. It feels a bit like trying to decide how to cut a cake so everyone has an equal piece.

I hate having to cut cake for important functions; I'm always afraid that I'll botch the job. Cut too big at the beginning, or too small.

The organ is here for the time being. How long? I do not know. It could be for only a heartbeat of time, or it could be until it falls apart with age. I wish I knew, but I don't.

It draws my eye everytime I enter the room. I view it with the eyes of the child I used to be. My adult eyes aren't ready for the truth yet.

First Day of Work

I have now completed one training shift. It was only five hours and time did fly, for the most part. However, now that I am home, my feet and lower back ache. I feel greasy and not a deep fryer in sight!

My shoes are comfortable. I did open my wallet (reluctantly, of course) for a pair of $40 shoes, but they feel nice. And, they had to be black and leather.

I guess I'm just not used to standing for five hours at a time. Really, how often does a housewife remain standing? I fold laundry sitting on my sofa. I'm not working in the kitchen all day long either. In fact, I probably spend more time at home sitting than I do standing. Even when I'm cleaning, I'm not standing for hours at a time. I suppose I'll get used to it.

I think the shift went well though. It feels like I didn't learn very much at all, but then again, I might have covered more bases than I had expected. Let's see...I learned how to clean bathrooms...just in case I didn't already know how to do that. I learned how to brew coffee and steeped tea and iced cappucinnos. I learned how to "zipper" the coffee urns; internal cleaning. I learned how to stock cups, hot chocolate and iced capp mixes, cold drinks, napkins, etc. I now know how to clean the dining room tables, wipe trays, put away clean dishes, and sign in/out.

Anyway, I survived. I did well, I think. I don't have another shift until Friday...another training shift.

Hired!

Well, I got the job. I suppose I am excited. I'm definitely glad to have a job, and I am quite happy about working at Tim Horton's. I am a little disappointed that the hours I would much prefer are unavailable at this time, though I am trying to look at this as a silver lining. Sure, I'll be working mostly weekends, but I will have more freedom to attend day-time school functions. I'll have more free time for myself. I can work on a million and one projects at home. Maybe, just maybe, my house will be cleaner than it has ever been before.

There is the possibility of an occasional weekday shift though. I have orientation tomorrow...sizing for uniforms, filling out paperwork, that type of thing.

Could This Be It?

On Sunday, I dropped off my resume at Wal-Mart as they were advertising for cashiers.

Around 10:30 this morning, I dropped off a resume at the Tim Horton's just up the road.

A little before 12pm today, as I was getting out of my van to pick Sam up from school, my cell phone rang. A number that I didn't recognize.

It was Tim Horton's calling to ask if I was available to come in for an interview tomorrow at 11am!

I am excited. As nervous as I have been about applying for and finding a job, I have been dreaming of working at TH for the past few months. Honestly, I can't think of a job more perfect for me than that.

It is a busy place, but it is an atmosphere I would be comfortable in and familiar with. If I can have the type of hours I am looking for, it will be perfect. It is close enough that I can walk to and from work.

I am really excited about this interview, although I will be extremely nervous tomorrow! I want this job. Funny, as much as I want it, I didn't think I would get it. I think that is why I delayed handing in my resume as long as I did. Kane had been telling me about all the new faces at TH, warning me that the hours I wanted might not be available anymore. But, I have an interview tomorrow.

Wal-Mart hasn't called yet...

Back to school and a rant

The kids are all in school. There were some tense moments when I couldn't find Abby's name on the list of grade two classes. Instead, I found her name on a grade one class list! Panic set in as I wondered if the problem could be fixed before I had to take Sam to his school. It was. The mistake belonged to the secretary; she looked at the wrong section on the registration form.

Kane met Sam and I at the middle school. Sam was nervous and naturally so. We walked in the school with him, found his homeroom, introduced ourselves to his homeroom teacher, and walked around to familiarize ourselves with Sam's classes. I hope Sam feels a little more comfortable now. I'm nervous for Sam, especially after seeing how big many of the kids are compared to Sam. In the throng of the crowded hallway, Sam is easily lost. That boy needs to grow...soon.
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I have a little rant to make. I am rather annoyed with the commercialism of 'back to school' and also with the way some people complain about money.

I realize that money is relative. No matter how much you have, you complain and worry about it. Money is tight for us. We are a family of 5 living on one income. Even when I do find a part-time job, the money I bring in will not be significant. Having a parent home has been a priority for us, and so, we have made the sacrifices required to do so. We aren't as rich as many, but neither are we as poor as many. We do have a home (mortgaged) and two vehicles (old and paid for) and debt, but we have a place to live, vehicles to drive, clothes to wear, and food to eat. We are still truly blessed!

In talking with an acquaintance the other day, the subject of shoes came up. He had just bought his son new shoes for school from Sport Chek, on sale for about $50, and he was complaining about how expensive kids can be. I smiled and nodded and began my mental rant. This man has two kids. He and his wife both work. In fact, his income alone is much greater than Kane's income. We have three kids and one income. We went to Wal-Mart on Saturday and bought Casey two pairs of shoes, Sam one pair of shoes, Abby one pair of shoes, a package of underwear for Abby, and two packages of boys' socks for just under $60! Of course, my kids shoes came from Wal-Mart not Sport Chek, and they don't have a big brand name attached to them.

I don't even spend $50 on one pair of shoes for myself, let alone one of my ever-growing, shoe trashing kids. I thought I was splurging when I bought myself new sandals this year for $20, but they will last me at least another year, maybe two. The kicker is that I LOVE shoes, but you'd never know it to look in my closet.

Which brings me to the other part of my rant...commercialism. Who says that kids need to have all new clothes for the start of school? Since when did MP3 players become back to school items? I can't believe some of the commercials and advertising that I've seen. Really, kids don't need that to start school. I know. I survived all my school years without brand new clothes, designer labels, and the most expensive supplies and gear.

The start of the school year is expensive enough without heaping on all those extras. Sam's school fees and yearbook will be $60, and supplies were around $60. Casey and Abby's fees and supplies will likely be around $70 total. Sam will need an instrument for band. Oh, I didn't even include the cost of the gym shoes. The school fundraising will begin within the next couple of weeks, too. I feel like an ATM with everyone wanting money from me.

We do not have extra money for new wardrobes. If we did, my own wardrobe could use some major help. As it is, I live in the same clothes over and over, adding something new, but cheap, every once in a while. Easily 90% of my kids clothes are second-hand given to us by friends. I don't mind. My kids don't mind. My kids may not be as well dressed as many of their peers, but they have clothes to wear. Besides, my kids don't care about labels and brands. At least not yet.

Even school lunches can be expensive. Last year, I gave up the practice of sending a juice box. Instead, I bought a Rubbermaid drink box for each child and filled it with juice. I plan on doing the same thing this year. Juice boxes are convenient, but we would go through 15 boxes a week! 60 boxes a month. Even bought in a Costco-sized case, the cost would be staggering.

I don't know, or maybe I just don't get it. I grew up not having much but hand-me-downs and cheap, bare necessities. I love nice things as much as anyone else. I have dreams. I drool over expensive items that I'd really love to own. But, I don't need $50 running shoes when I can find a decent pair for $20. I don't need to buy that cute top or skirt just because it is cute, when I know that my $40 is needed for groceries. I would love to look stylish and trendy, but I don't need to be a slave to fashion. I don't need a new wardrobe just because there's a new 'hot' colour for the season. My kids don't need to be walking billboards just because all the other kids are wearing it.

A New Family Member

Casey is in heaven!

He bought his much-longed for hamster this afternoon. The poor creature has yet to be officially named, but Casey has been calling him Speedy thus far.

My Precioussss

Jewelry is not something that I wear a lot of. I have a fair bit of it but not too much. I used to wear earrings all the time, and the funkier the better. Since I've had children, I seldom wear earrings anymore; I've become accustomed to having ears free of enticing objects for chubby baby fingers. Of course, my babies are long past the stage where earrings and necklaces are something to be eaten.

I wear my wedding and engagement rings all the time, taking them off only when I have a shower. The big diamond catches in my hair when I shampoo.

I have a copper bracelet from Africa that I wear frequently but not everyday. I have many pairs of earrings but wear only a few with any regularity...on special occasions.

Now, toe rings are something that I love. In the summer when my feet bask in being barefoot, free of socks and confining shoes. I shed my socks as early in spring as I can stand and keep them off as far into fall as I can bear. Funny how my naked feet can handle cold, wind, and rain during early baseball season but freeze beneath thick socks inside my heated home in the winter!

I have been sporting three toe rings this year. Two on my right foot and one on the left. Each one is special in its' own way. The two on my right were gifts from my girlfriends. The one on my left is a real silver ring that belonged to my mom when she was younger. Somehow, I don't think it was ever meant to be a toe ring, but it doesn't really fit my fingers. The ring is too small for anything but my pinkies and too big for even them.

I almost never take my toe rings off in the summer. Maybe if I absolutely need to wear socks and runners for an extended time. Then again, I might just wear them beneath it all. Occasionally, one of the rings will feel loose as if threatening to slip off, but never my silver ring. Until last night.

After supper, I made a dash to the local grocery store for yet another jug of milk and some Diet Coke with Lime to keep me fueled as I painted. When I returned home, I felt odd. Something wasn't right, but it took a few minutes to realize that my silver toe ring was gone!

I retraced my steps back to the van, carefully searching the ground all the way. Nothing. I wasn't about to go back to the store, besides I was fairly certain that I would have felt it come off there. As I walked back into the house, I felt like Gollum from the Lord of the Rings. My Precious was lost. It had abandoned me just like the Ring had abandoned Gollum.

I finished my painting. I read my book. I watched TV and put the kids to bed. My left foot felt incredibly naked, and I kept staring at the white spot on my tanned foot. And then, I spied my ring sitting on the coffee table! I slipped on my toe while asking my husband if he had found it. He claims he didn't. I never did ask the kids though.

I'm just thankful that I didn't have to traipse through Middle Earth to wrest my ring away from some usurper with big, hairy feet!