Month: June 2012

It Registered At Idiot On the Moron Scale

Luke picking up the pieces while Joe tries to look contrite.

A while back, the boys and I were in the car and they started discussing terms for people who are lacking in intelligence. The conversation went something like this.

“Mom…Luke called me an idiot.”

“Luke, please don’t call your brother an idiot.”

“But, he was acting like one,” Luke argued.

“Still,” I replied, “it’s really not nice to call your brother an idiot.”

“Well, what can I call him then? Can I call him stupid?” Luke asked.

“Stupid is somewhat better than idiot, but it’s still not nice.”

“Dumb, then?” Luke continued.

“Okay. If you’re really looking for clarification,” I responded, “here’s what I think. I would say that dumb is probably the least harmful. Stupid is a bit worse. Idiot is truly unkind. I’d prefer you not call each other idiot, even if the other one is acting like one.”

“There’s another word, Mom,” Joe added. “I hear you say it in the car sometimes. It starts with a J.”

Caught. I do utter the word “jackass” while driving. It’s the only swear word that my kids hear me say. I try to refrain from swearing too much in front of them, although it is difficult because when they’re not around I can keep up with a sailor.

“Okay, then. Put the J-word after idiot in terms of being bad. So, if you hear me telling another driver they’re a jackass, then they’ve escalated right to the top of the moron scale.” And, that’s how the moron scale was born.

Today, my boys were playing Legos together. Luke is the Lego King. He is (and always has been) amazing with Legos. Joe? Not so much. It’s not only difficult for Joe to build Legos, but it seems to be difficult for him to keep them in tact. He has many times been punished for messing with Luke’s built Lego sets and destroying them, presumably by accident. At any rate, Joe was struggling to put two pieces together today, and Luke was waiting on him. Luke could not understand what Joe’s problem was because, by his mind, this was an easy task. Then, I heard the tattletale call from the living room.

“Mom…Luke called me stupid. And then he called me an idiot.”

The I-word is grounds for trouble in our house, so I called Luke in to talk to me.

“Luke…I’ve told you before. Do not call your brother an idiot.”

“Well, he was being an idiot. He couldn’t get these two Lego pieces together. It’s so easy!”

“Hey, Luke,” I told him, “Legos are more difficult for Joe. You need to cut him some slack. If you call him an idiot again today there will be a consequence and you will likely be cut-off from Lego You Tube videos for at least a day.”

“Okay. Okay,” Luke whined.

As he was walking back to meet his brother in the living room, I heard a big crash. I rounded the corner to see Joe standing there with what was left of a Lego plane Luke had built earlier this morning. Half the ship was in his hands. The other half was in pieces on the floor. Without missing a beat, Luke turned around and looked at me with a see-what-I-mean expression.

“Now can I call him an idiot?” was all he said.

I love my boys. They don’t always get along, but their predictability is amusing.

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The Hitch

My sister did not want me posting any wedding photos to my Facebook page, so you get to settle for a photo of their wedding rings instead.

My sister, Kathy, became Mrs. Smith today. This morning we were all rushing around before the ceremony and Kathy, being a typical nervous bride, was stressing over every last detail. Were the place cards set out? Were they playing music for the guests? Were the favors for the guests at each place setting? Frankly, she was starting to stress me out with all the minute instructions, worries, and questions.

Hubby and I will celebrate our seventeenth wedding anniversary in about two months. It’s hard to fathom that we’ve been married that long because it has truly gone by in a blink. One thing that nearly seventeen years has taught us, though, is that while it’s pretty much second nature to get bunged up by little things, it’s not worth the energy. This is not to say that we don’t occasionally sweat the small stuff (because we do) but we’re much better about letting things go more quickly than we used to. Maybe it’s because we’ve figured out that in the end things usually seem to work themselves out, leaving behind a slightly more interesting story than we had planned on having. Maybe it’s because marriage has taught us that life is messy when multiple people are involved. Or, maybe it’s because seventeen years have passed and now we’re too old and tired to summon the energy to stress.

This morning, as Kathy was worrying about the fine details, I reminded her that the purpose of a wedding day is to end the day married. So, if at the end of the day she found herself married to Chris, then everything would be just as it should be. It doesn’t matter if the chocolate wedding favors melted in the 95 degree heat or if the sand ceremony was nearly thwarted by a broken glass container. Vows were spoken, rings were exchanged, and a husband and wife pronouncement was made. Kathy and Chris are married. I have a new brother-in-law, the kids have a new uncle, and Steve finally has another man in the family to help balance out the abundance of estrogen. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. The day went off with only one real hitch, and it was the one we all showed up for in the first place.

 

 

 

 

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Don’t Answer That…A Lesson For Every Penis-Packing Person

The photo in question

This afternoon my boys and I were sitting on the couch watching a documentary film in air-conditioned comfort while the temps soared above 90 degrees outside. As we were watching frigate birds in the Galapagos, a new message popped into my email inbox on my laptop. It was a photo hubby had taken of my sisters and I at Kathy’s wedding rehearsal lunch today. I downloaded the photo onto my laptop and examined it. We look pretty good for a few old ladies, I thought. (Only one of us is under 40…and that one will be 40 in less than a year.)

Then, I got curious about something. I paused the movie, turned my computer so the boys could see it, and asked them a question.

“Who is the prettiest?” I inquired, showing them the photo.

They looked at me like I was crazy and said nothing. They were not interested in playing my reindeer game. I looked at Joe who is by far the more honest, less polished child.

“This isn’t a trick question. I promise,” I said.

He scanned my face but his expression said it all. He had no intention of touching my question with a 15 foot pole. He uttered not a single word. So, I turned to Luke. He smiled at me.

“What do YOU think?” I asked, staring into his cute little face.

With the ease of a future politician, he answered, “You’re all pretty.”

“Uh huh,” came my reply. I could see right through him, so I pressed a little harder. “You think we’re all equally pretty?”

“Yes,” he asserted, sounding 100% convinced. I had to give it to him. The kid is slick. I gave up on him and focused again on Joe. I was certain Joe would crack under the scrutiny. His honesty would betray him. I knew it.

“I promise I won’t get mad if you say it’s not me,” I pressed. “Really. I’m just curious what you think.”

He continued to look at me, saying nothing. He was glancing over my shoulder at Luke. I spun around quickly to see Luke pointing at me. He was prompting his brother, lest Joe should offer up what they assumed would be an incorrect response. I rolled my eyes and gave up. They clearly did not believe me when I said I was merely curious and that there would be no repercussions for admitting that I was not the prettiest girl in the photo.

And, you know what? Good for them. Although I truly wasn’t testing them and was simply curious about their opinions of their old mom and their aunts, had I been testing them they would have passed with flying colors. I was impressed by their ability to spot a potential land mine of feminine wiles and avoid all pitfalls. Joe is smart enough to keep his mouth shut when cornered. He’s definitely learned that it’s better not to say anything when you’re not sure. And Luke, with his textbook, female-friendly answers, will be very popular with the girls someday. Every once in a while I get the rare opportunity to see how staying home with my boys and talking openly and honestly with them, especially about how to deal with women, has influenced what kind of young men they are becoming. Today was one of those days, and today I got an A. Yay, me! Now, if I could just get them to put the toilet seat down, I’d finally earn that A+.

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Bat Crap Crazy Beats Boring Any Day

Oh…how I despise hosting garage sales.

My sister is getting married on Saturday. I am so excited for her. We’ve been talking about this wedding since last August and now here we are, down to her last few days as a single gal. Tomorrow at 11 a.m. my three boys and I will report to the wedding location for a rehearsal before heading out with Kathy and her soon-t0-be husband and his family to lunch. This entire week has been spent tying up last minute details for the wedding. Today I hemmed the boys’ khaki pants for the ceremony and reception. Tomorrow afternoon after the rehearsal I will help my mom put some finishing touches on my bridesmaid’s dress. Then, I get to try to figure out an appropriate, meaningful, and fun toast for my sister and Chris on their wedding day because I am serving as the matron of honor. So much to do, so little time left to do it in because the wedding is at 10:30 a.m. on Saturday.

So you’ll never guess what, in the midst of all this last-minute, wedding craziness, I decided to do. I thought we might be able to squeak in a few hours at the crack of roosters tomorrow morning selling some things during our Community Garage Sale (that only happens once a year) before quickly showering and making it to the 11 a.m. wedding rehearsal. I made this brilliant decision, I suppose, because I just didn’t think I had enough going on right now. I thrive on chaos and eat stress cookies for lunch. Clearly, I am certifiable, genuine, bat-crap crazy. Plus…we really need to unload some stuff so I can funnel more money into my savings account for the trip to Hawaii I’ve been planning while hubby has been dreaming of appropriating the savings for new camera equipment.

Tonight, when I should have been pressing the boys’ outfits and working on my wedding toast, hubby and I were in the basement sorting through miscellaneous items in our storage room, which is inundated with things we once “had” to have. These items taunt us. They are a reminder of the truth: we could have been to Hawaii twice by now if we hadn’t bought some of this junk. Seriously. As Steve attempted to free his once oft-used Bowflex machine from the back of the space, he handed me the Celestron telescope we bought for stargazing, used once, and then gave up on after realizing we really would have to read the instructions to work it properly. We tripped over outgrown children’s toys, from Lincoln Logs to Chutes and Ladders, simply trying to liberate some larger items from what had become their permanent home in our basement. Our need to purge overwhelmed our need to prepare for the wedding.

As we hauled stuff up to the garage and I stuck prices on larger items with blue painter’s tape, it occurred to me how absolutely insane I am for deciding to participate in a garage sale on the same morning as my sister’s wedding rehearsal. I’m nuts. That’s all there is to it. Why would anyone do this to themselves? Now I will get six hours’ worth of sleep in the hopes of jettisoning some of our baggage and maybe, just maybe, making a few extra bucks in the process. It’s probably not even remotely worth the effort. Truth is, though, that you can’t stop crazy. It takes over. If I could control it, it would be sanity. But, let’s face it. Sane people are dull with their lists and their timeliness and their level heads. I prefer to think that all my irrational behavior merely makes me more interesting. Yeah. That’s it. Please promise you’ll remember me fondly when they haul me off to a room where I cannot hurt myself or hold garage sales.

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Stormy Weather Ain’t All Bad….Except For The Hail And That Kind Of Sucks

Best kind of light show

Went to dinner with my buddy, Heather, tonight in honor of her birthday tomorrow. She’ll be 25ish. Anyway, as we were sitting at dinner we were discussing how summer in Colorado is the greatest thing ever. It really is. I know other people think their locale has the best summers, but they’re wrong. Colorado is incredibly beautiful year round but during our summers, which are normally warm and dry, we get the most amazing storms.

As if on command, the Universe summoned for our separate drives home an astounding light display. It was non-stop cloud lightning with the occasional cloud-t0-ground strike. Unbelievable. It was so constant that despite the darkness after 10 p.m. I was able to get several photos with my iPhone.

All I can think when I see storms like this is how awesome life is on this planet. The good. The bad. The ugly. All of it. Life on this planet is powerful and interesting. I feel badly for the people who miss that truth, who don’t take the time to stop and appreciate and marvel at it. Life is a gift. Any amount of time we’re allowed to exist here is a blessing. When you feel like things in your life are too much, sit and watch a storm and remember how small you are. And, instead of being depressed by that knowledge, revel in it because it’s freeing. No matter how big your troubles seem, they are insignificant in the grand scheme of life on earth. Just like the storm, they will pass.

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Folding Up My Map So My Kids Can Unfold Their Own

Yes. That’s my 11 year old wearing a swim mask in the zero depth pool. He’s cool like that.

You know how you want for your children all the things you never had? I cannot tell you how many times that has screwed things up for me and for my kids. You would think somewhere along the line I would figure it out and stop trying so hard to give them what I missed out on and focus rather on helping them find what they want or need. You would think that. You would be wrong.

One thing I always wanted for my kids was for them to be able to swim well. By “swim well,” I mean the kind of swimming where your face is in the water and you know how to time your breaths and you don’t hit the wall with your head. Basic stuff. I simply wanted them to swim better than I do because the best thing I can say about how I swim is that so far I have managed not to drown. Knock on wood.

To ensure that my kids would be able to swim well early, I had them on a swimming time table from birth. I enrolled in Mommy and Me swim classes with them when they were infants. They were both in regular swim classes when they were 3. They loved the water. Loved it. Yet, they each failed to pass the first level class two times before I decided that the community pool was the wrong place for my kids to learn to swim. I reasoned that the large class sizes, the too cold water at the rec center, and the myriad distractions there led to their lack of swimming success.

Next, I enrolled them at a pricey, private swim school. The water was warm (90 degrees) and the classes were only four students. This was just what they needed, right? Wrong. After a traumatic incident where Luke fell into water over his head during class and bobbed for a while before being safely recovered by his teacher, he refused to go back. Honestly, my confidence was then shaken too. I figured my dreams for them to become great swimmers were just dreams. I tried to move on, determining they would learn the way I did…over time with lots of informal practice. It wasn’t what I had envisioned. I pretended to make peace with it.

For the past four and a half years, our boys have been allowed to view the water as fun. They’ve slowly gotten braver and a bit more skilled at swimming on their own. We didn’t push them. They merely began to figure things out. Still, they have not become truly proficient swimmers. So today, once again pushing my luck, I enrolled them in a different swim school. This move was precipitated by our upcoming trip to the Galapagos where being able to swim and snorkel will be a really good thing. They’re 9 and 11 now. I was certain they were ready, but what is more important is that they were certain of it. You know what? They LOVED practicing in the pool with their instructor today. As we were leaving the school, they excitedly mentioned they wished they could go back again this week. I smiled as they told me all about the class I had witnessed via video camera from the lobby. Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.

It’s okay to want things for your kids. It’s even okay to set them up to discover more about the things you want for them. But, it’s not okay to push them into what you want according to your time schedule or your plans for them. When my kids failed to pass out of swim class that first time, I should have backed off and realized they weren’t ready. I didn’t do that. Instead, I forced the issue, which then led to a worse situation from which we spent years trying to recover. We all want the best for our kids. Sometimes, though, we forget that what’s best for them will only be uncovered when we allow them to decide what interests them when they’re uniquely ready for it. If your child gets accepted into Harvard because you nagged, pushed, and henpecked them into living your dream, I suppose you can count that as an accomplishment. But, wouldn’t it be better if your child got into Harvard because it was what he wanted and worked incredibly hard on his own to achieve? I guess that if I want my kids to find their own way, I’d better stop handing them my map.

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Surrender Isn’t Always A Bad Thing

Heading up Mesa Trail near Boulder

“Yielding means inner acceptance of what is. You are open to life. When you yield internally, when you surrender, a new dimension of consciousness opens up.”        ~ Eckhart Tolle

Yesterday, Steve and I decided it would be a great day for a family hike. So, we loaded up the car and headed up to Boulder. I found a 4+ mile hike just outside of Boulder near Eldorado Canyon on Trails.com that looked promising, so we went for it. Because we got a late start on the day, it was already 82 degrees when we pulled into the South Mesa Trail parking lot around noon. I knew the boys would whine about the heat, but we were there and Steve and I were bound and determined to get the exercise.

The boys, usually quite able bodied and semi-amenable to hiking, were in rare form from the start. Joe had consumed so much water on the drive up that he was wanting to mark his territory every half mile. Luke, a kid who hates to be either too hot or too cold, was moving slowly and in a constant state of whine about how sweaty he was. Being not the world’s most sympathetic person (understatement), I told them that if they’d stop using so much energy to complain they’d have more energy to hike faster and finish sooner. True story.

The first mile was a bit rough as the boys complained and dragged their feet, hoping we would suspend the exercise. We were annoyed but persisted in our determination to complete the hike. During the entire second mile, I was fairly certain my husband (who is one of the most patient people I have ever known) would eventually strangle Luke, who could not seem to tamp down his whining. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about children, it’s that they’re like animals; they can smell hesitancy and fear and will use your weakness against you. Luke was working it.

As Luke whimpered and cried foul, Steve went from grimacing about it to full on bitching at him while I went to my happy place. I’m not sure what it is about Boulder that makes me so dang happy, but I’m at peace there. As the war between Luke and his father began to escalate, I became increasingly calm. I took turns talking to both of them, positioning myself in between them as a buffer, and trying to resolve the situation with a positive attitude. The more they bickered, the less I seemed to care. I was able to focus on the beauty of the landscape, the pine scent rising from the trees, the cool breeze on my sun-warmed skin, and the joy of being somewhere that I love to be with the people who mean the most surrounding me. I escaped from the negativity of the situation by focusing on what I loved rather than on what I disliked. It was very zen of me, I thought.

As we got into the third mile, we hit the forest and Luke was shaded enough to stop whining a bit. Joe had at last peed himself out. Steve had nothing left to feel frustrated about. The hike became what I envisioned it would be, a fun little walk with my family somewhere new. I’m not sure if it was my attitude that diffused the negativity or the negativity that changed my own attitude, but something made the whole experience positive rather than negative and we ended the 4.5 mile hike feeling good about it overall.

How often do we tense up when things aren’t going the way we want and in our tension merely compound the situation? Sometimes, the best thing we can do when things get rough is to let go of expectation and relax. And, as we yield to the way things are rather than dreaming of the way we wanted things to be, we make peace with the present moment and life begins to look not quite as bad as we thought. Occasionally we waste too much energy on a battle when we should surrender instead. Sometimes making peace with a situation is not a defeat at all but a victory in disguise.

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Boobies and Sea Lions and Giant Tortoises, Oh My!

Working on research for our trip

Two months from today, we will be embarking on a long, international journey. My very generous and well-traveled in-laws are treating the entire family to a 10-day excursion to Ecuador to visit the Galapagos Islands. When they first suggested this trip, I was intrigued. Honestly, I hadn’t had the Galapagos Islands on my list of places I must see on this planet, but how could I not want to go and experience what so few others have? How could I turn my nose up at an opportunity to see blue-footed boobies, giant tortoises, and marine iguanas (iguanas that actually swim)? How many people get to walk where Darwin walked and see what Darwin saw? People talk about “the trip of a lifetime,” but this one truly is.

We’re not just taking any old tour, either. We’re taking the National Geographic Expeditions’ Galapagos Family Odyssey trip. We’re traveling with naturalists and photographers from National Geographic. It’s a family friendly voyage where we’ll have opportunities to swim with sea lions, snorkel with sea turtles, and stand feet away from the islands’ giant tortoises and where the boys will be provided special activities to enhance their experience. We’ll take six airline flights and spend 7-days aboard a small cruise ship. I’ve had to buy new luggage, expedition clothing, and shoes that can get wet. We’re doing research and reading about both Darwin and the islands, their flora and fauna, and their history. This is no lightweight island vacation where you lounge on a beach. This is an expedition of the highest order.

This vacation has been planned for over a year now, so I’ve delayed my enthusiasm and excitement to live with the wait involved. But today, as I looked at the date, it hit me that it’s finally almost here. I’ve got to brush up on my Spanish, review the trip packing list and determine what we’re missing, and try to figure out how I am going to blog daily from a ship off the coast of the Galapagos. I know I often write about living in the moment, but this is one of those cases when you have plan ahead to be appropriately prepared and to get the most from the experience. Two months from today I will wake up early, fly to Miami before boarding a plane for Guayaquil, Ecuador, and then step foot in South America for the first time. August 3rd will be here in a flash. Time to start taking this trip of a lifetime seriously.

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Our Son, The Science Experiment

Me and my science experiment

Our son, Joe, was just 8 years old when we took him to Children’s Hospital in Denver where several psychological professionals interviewed and observed him and told us they were certain he had moderate ADHD. He wasn’t the worst case they’d seen, but they felt he would improve the most quickly with medication. We discussed the benefits and side effects associated with this type of treatment with the doctors and decided to go ahead and start him on a low dose of Concerta, an extended release form of the drug Ritalin. We had hoped never to have to put our child on medication and had investigated other possible explanations for our son’s poor grades, non-existent attention span, nervous gestures, and total lack of impulse control before finally being able to admit that perhaps he truly did have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

One of the side effects the doctors discussed with us at length was the possibility of slowed growth due to the medication. They assured us that children on the medication do continue to grow but at a much slower rate. Born prematurely, Joe was on the small side to begin with. One suggestion the doctors had was to take him off the medication during breaks from school, especially long ones like summer vacation, to allow his body a bit of unrestricted time for growth. Up until now, we had elected not to do that because we were focused on using the medication to get him caught up in school and with his self-esteem issues. But, after seeing him with his classmates at Field Day this year, we finally decided it might help to take him off the Concerta for the summer. You see, Joe is the oldest boy in his class by nearly a year and yet he’s still the shortest. There’s nothing wrong with being short, but if we can help him catch up it seems like we should.

So, a week ago we took away Joe’s medication and asked him to try going two days without it. He was adamantly against the idea, but we persisted. We managed to turn two days off into four and then eventually into an entire week. On the plus side, we’ve seen a definite improvement in his eating and sleeping habits, an indication that he might just grow if we keep this up. But, I’m not going to lie. These past seven days have been tough. Our boys, who get along 95% of the time when Joe is on his medication, fought quite a bit more this week. I spent far more time than usual trying to solve disputes and suppress whining. Joe’s been more argumentative, impulsive, and distracted. He’s been on the medication for nearly three years now, so I had almost forgotten this side of him. If there’s been a silver lining to this little experiment, it’s that if we’d harbored any concerns about whether he truly had ADHD or whether the medication was honestly working, those concerns are gone.

Today Joe announced that he was going to take his medication again starting tomorrow. He told us that he’s tired of feeling out of control. I understand that. I do. But, I feel that Steve, Luke, and I are partly responsible for his feeling that way because we’re not used to his behavior off the medication and we’re acting differently toward him, expecting things of him that we expect from medicated Joe. That is simply not fair. Before he went to bed, we had a little family discussion. We asked Joe to forgive us for our impatience because as much as this is a period of readjustment for him it is also one for us. We promised we’d lower our expectations of him a bit if he would be willing to work a little harder to focus and try to meet us midway. Luke, exhausted from fending off Joe’s poking and prodding and teasing and belittling, told us he simply wants the “old Joe” back. Luke definitely bears the brunt of Joe’s ADHD symptoms, so we’re definitely taking that into consideration.

After the boys went to sleep, hubby and I decided that we’re going to give Joe’s medication-free trial run one more week…one week when we resolutely try to understand where he’s at and not where we expect him to be. Our biggest fear right now is our not being able to control our expectations and then making Joe feel bad about his behavior when it’s really not his fault. So, we’re going to try to rein ourselves in and let him be. If at the end of the next week we feel this time off is going to do more harm to him emotionally than good to him physically we’ll put him back on daily doses. I hate feeling like he’s a science experiment, but right now he kind of is. I would love to see him experience a growth spurt, but not at the expense of his self-confidence and self-esteem. Some parents, I’m sure, put their child on medication to save their sanity. We put Joe on it to save his. If taking him off for a couple weeks causes him to feel bad about himself again, the experiment ends. I’d much rather have a shorter-than-average happy kid than miserable child of average height. Science experiment be damned.

 

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The Rules of Wine Club

Smiley. Must have been drinking  already.

Back in midwinter when I was annoyed about being cold and presumably sipping (all right, slugging) a glass of wine, I came up with the idea to start a small wine club. I talked with three other couples we know to determine if they might be amenable to hosting one wine dinner a year at their home. They all thought it would be worth a shot. So, our club was born. We have one basic understanding: we know nothing about wine other than we like to drink it. To expand our wine repertoire, we plan to sample some new wines each time and try to learn a little bit about them, even if that’s only that we don’t like them. Each dinner is up to the hosts and they have sole input into the food and drink for the evening. To keep things equitable among our members, I came up with The Rules of Wine Club, which run along the lines of The Rules of Fight Club from the Fight Club movie.

Our Wine Club Rules:

1) You do not talk about what happens at wine club.

2) You DO NOT talk about what happens at wine club.

3) If someone says stop or goes limp, they are cut off.

4) Only 8 people to a dinner.

5) Only one glass at a time. Empty yours and it will be refilled.

6) Try to keep your clothes on, at least for the dinner portion of the night.

7) Club will go on as long as it needs to until all the wine is gone.

8) When it’s all said and done, the mission of wine club is simply to be in the moment…with friends…and wine.

After all, it’s the time we spend with others that is important. The things we do at our jobs don’t matter. The kind of house we live in or the type of car we drive is unimportant. It’s our connection with friends and family that makes life worth getting out of bed for. And, I’m not just saying this because I’ve had…let’s go with…several glasses of wine and now I’m all “I love you, man” or anything like that. Sitting there tonight with our friends, laughing, teasing each other, and sharing stories, I felt truly connected to something outside myself and my own little world. In a social climate where we’re increasingly isolated and living within our electronic communications, it’s crucial to share a meal with peers occasionally, to converse face-to-face, and to pass some time personally interconnected with others like they did in the olden days before we had cell phones and Wifi. It’s far too easy to check out in this world we live in. Try to remember to check back in once in a while. That way, when you’re looking back on the film of your life, it will be a reel worth looking at.

 

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