So long, summer!

We always say "summer went too fast!" And I can't argue with that. I love summer. I love the heat and sunshine. I want it to go slowly so I can enjoy it. But once again, it seems like it's over before it started and I wonder where the time flew and what I did with it.

Technically, summer is still here until Sept. 23. For most of us, though, Labor Day weekend signals the end of the season. We adults get a long weekend and the kids know summer vacation is officially over!

Here are some sure signs summer is over:

Goodbye summer sun: Woke up this morning and it was 46 degrees! I kid you not. Only in Wisconsin are we sweating our keesters off one day and want to crank the heat the next. Carter comes out of his room wearing long sleeves and long pants. I had to convince him to take along a t-shirt and shorts to Kidz Camp because it's not going to stay in the 40s all day. (At least I hope not!)

Goodbye Iola friends: Speaking of Kidz Camp, today is Carter's last day since Jim and I have tomorrow (Friday) off. He's going to miss his Iola friends and can't wait to get back there next summer. I'll miss having Carter close by -- and along for our commute. I'm guessing he learned a few adult things this summer he really didn't need to while listening to Bob and Tom in the morning and Mom and Dad (and their work "discussions") at night!

Hello new friends: There was an open house at Grant Elementary yesterday. Carter got to meet his new 4th-grade teacher and was excited to see some of his friends are in his class this year. Carter's age group is so big that they have always been divided into 3 classes of 20+ kids. As a result, his closest buddies one year aren't always in his class the next. This year's class includes a good friend from Sunday School and a girl (who I won't name) who has kissed him twice before (that's the first thing he said yesterday when we got home!). Should be an interesting year!

Hello football: You know it's the end of summer when our favorite baseball teams (Twins and Reds) are out of the playoff chase and the Vikings have their season opener in 10 days! Between now and then comes the crucial Fantasy Football draft where the Sand Wedgies (managed mainly by GM Jim but supported by VP Robyn) hope to take back the championship in the Rumblin' Rapids Football Federation! Gotta love football!

Hello soccer (the other football): Carter starts soccer practice tonight and will be playing most Saturdays in September and October -- if you're looking for something to do! He's quite the kicker!! Of course, we just like to have him stay active and not turn into a GameBoy-playing TV-watching couch potato. When we mentioned that this morning, he said, "Well it's not like I'm going to turn fat that fast. It will just happen gradually!"

Ahh, summer. I will miss you. But it looks like there will be some fall fun to be had -- whether we're ready for it or not!

B.F.F.

Remember in grade school when we'd pass notes to our girlfriends and sign them BFF (best friends forever) -- and we really meant it? We really thought we'd forever be calling each other daily and stay totally involved in every aspect of each other's lives -- from boyfriends to bad bosses to bad hair days. It just doesn't work out that way.

For those of us approaching 40 or are already at the top of that hill (or over it), it seems to be nature's requirement that we take time to reflect on life. Where are we? How did we get here? And where are all those people who took part in segments of that journey?

For me, I've had some really close friends (I'd call many my BFFs) during each road trip on that journey. My friend Julie has been my BFF forever -- well fifth grade seems like forever ago. What is special about Julie is that she knows everything about me from the get-go (and still wants to be my friend!). Plus, we survived high school together -- that says a lot, trust me!! Our lives have intersected in interesting ways over the years and we still keep in touch (probably every other week -- thanks to email)!

When I think back on every stage of my life since then, I fondly recall special moments with wonderful friends.

In college, there were Sue and Maggie (roommates); Carolyn and April (who I first got to know through the school newspaper and yearbook); and there was the Rodent Club with Jules and Carrie. I don't know if I will ever put that story out on the Internet for the world to know about, but we had fun living life as RAs (resident assistants) in Angell Hall.

At Bible camp, our whole staff was a family. At the newspapers, there was Cindy, Sally, Kristin, Laura, Kathy, Toni, Deb and Melissa. At my current job, there's Jana, Katy, Karen, Sandy, Tamara and many more. In my neighborhood, I have Cindy and Niki. In scrapbooking land, I have Becky and Molly.

Then I have my six sisters, too, a circle that has been broken at times in my journey but seems to be woven tightly now, and getting stronger.

So many circles. So many friends.

One of the coolest things that has happened to me this year is that I have reconnected with three people from my earlier "circles." Camp counselor Julie and "Rodents" Jules and Carrie. It's been 15-20 years since I've seen these "girls" and I still love them!

It just brightens my day to get a little note from one of them. And it really brightens my day to hear they are reading my blog!

Jules even says I add positively to her mental health. Leave it to me to put the FUN in dysFUNction! That's been my role on every leg of the journey, right girlfriends?! Love ya, BFFs!

Busy bees :: Epilogue

My hubby pointed out I was remiss in my duties to add the one LIGHT component to the "bee attack" story.

When we heard the screaming and we were running through our yard and the neighbor's yard, my eyes were on Carter -- nothing else. I didn't know until I got to him that I had charged barefoot right through a pile of dog poop!

When we got Carter's clothes off and he was running to the house, Jim looked at me like he was wondering why I was standing there and not running after Carter. "Sorry! I have flippin' dog poop on my foot!" (Only I didn't say "flippin'" or "poop.")

I guess I don't handle stress very well. Sorry for yelling at you, honey. I was angry at those stinkin' bees, not you. Oh wait, I was the one who was stinkin'...

War stories

There's something about adversity that brings people closer together. A certain experience can bond them like no other, whether it's positive, like winning a championship, or negative, as hugely catastrophic as a war or a minor trauma like Saturday's "sting operation."

Sunday, the "day after," was the day we found out more details while listening to the kids compare battle wounds and share war stories -- like one might imagine a group of veterans doing.

Madison, the neighbor girl who is Carter's age, stopped over in the late morning. Between the two of them, I learned they'd all been walking in the dry creek bed -- where they haven't gone before and won't go again -- when one of them must have stepped on the underground bee's nest. Then all hell broke loose. Well they didn't use those words, but that's what happened. And to hear them tell it, I can see it really was traumatic for them.

I took both Madison and Carter with me when I ran to Plover to get some scrapbooking supplies. Afterwords, we stopped for lunch and sat out on the patio. The two of them freaked when there was one hornet interested in our lunches. Carter was jerking out of the way for anything that flew -- whether it was a fly or a leaf floating by. I tried to keep him calm. Madison, meanwhile, says, "Well I'm probably used to getting stung now so it won't hurt as much."

I'm confident that with time they'll all be OK and their brave faces will return. For now, they have an unbelievable tale to tell, survivor stories to share -- and they are counting down to winter when there are no bugs outside!

Busy bees

We had one of those scary parenting moments tonight that gives me goose bumps when I think about it.

Carter was playing next door with the neighbor kids. Jim and I were flipping through the channel guide trying to figure out if there was anything worth watching. That's when we heard the screaming.

Now it's not unusual to hear screaming in a neighborhood full of girls. Carter and Sam (the only other boy in the subdivision) get a kick out of chasing the girls around and making them scream.

Jim recognized right away that this was a different kind of scream. He muted the TV, stood by the window and that's when we realized the boys were screaming, too. We instinctively booked it out of the house as fast as we could, through the trees to the neighbor's yard where the kids were covered in bees!

All the parents must have heard at the same time. We all converged on the kids, tearing their clothes off and sending them running for their houses. I followed Carter into the house and got him into a cold shower and he just couldn't stop screaming and crying. I've never felt so helpless!

Meanwhile, Jim -- who is deathly allergic to bees -- is still out by the road, killing all the bees off Carter's clothes and shoes. Thank God he didn't get stung, too. And thankfully, Carter didn't show signs of an allergic reaction.

Jim called the ER for some treatment advice while I took out 5 stingers. All totaled, Carter had 10 stings. He was actually lucky. I think he had the least of the kids and the neighbor girls' dad, who estimates he got 60-70 stings while trying to help his girls. What a nightmare! In my head, I can still just hear these kids screaming in pain.

Carter already stated he is not going outside tomorrow either. I can't blame him after the trauma, but I pointed out that both Mommy and Daddy are allergic and we still go outside in the summer. Though I'm a little leery, too.

As the ER nurse warned us, Carter's stings are starting to itch now. He knows not to touch them. "I'm gonna tough it out, Mom," but it could be a long night. I don't know if I'll be that tough. I might have to sleep with him!

Be careful out there! And don't forget to hug your honeys today!

Who wants to be a millionaire?

What would you do with a million dollars? What about 300 million? It's hard not to think about with Powerball fever at a high pitch these days.

Jim and I play a certain set of numbers each week. Some of these are "our" numbers and some came to Jim in a dream once so we don't want to change them and we don't want to miss a drawing ... just in case.

Occasionally we do win $4 here or $7 there. We get miffed when the jackpot gets high like it is now and everyone comes out of the woodwork to play. We're the ones playing it every week. Don't go around pushing up the impossible odds for winning. That's not fair to us dedicated buyers!

My sister Rayna is convinced she is going to win the lottery someday. And I don't mean just wishful thinking. She just has this knowing feeling in her heart that it is going to happen some day. Yesterday was her birthday so I thought, wouldn't it be great to win the Powerball on her birthday so she'd never have to work again?! I bought an extra 10 bucks in quick picks last night while getting milk ... just in case. Sorry, Rayna. I checked the numbers this morning and we didn't win.

When I think about winning a million dollars or 2 or 3, that is one of the things that immediately comes to mind: helping out my loved ones, doing what we can to ease -- or eliminate -- their financial burdens. Naturally, Jim would get his Jeep and I'd get my hot yellow SUV of choice, but that would only be a small part of it. We would love to be able to tell my parents that they can live out their days wherever they want and not have to worry about the heat bill. We'd love to tell my sister she doesn't need to hold down two jobs. It would be a kick to sponsor Jim's nephew's race car, too!

It's fun to dream but it's true when they say money can't buy happiness. It can buy a few material things to delight you, that's for sure, but what really makes you happy? Jim and I were talking about that this morning. We already are happy. We have a good marriage, three wonderful -- and healthy -- boys, loving parents and siblings, our own home and we're gainfully employed. What more could we ask for?!

I'm still going to play those numbers, though ... just in case.

Where the wild things are

The position of being the baby of the family comes with its perks. Despite my tales of hardship and woe, my older siblings claim I had a spoiled childhood ... or at least had many privileges they did not.

Carter happens to be the youngest grandchild (he doesn't like it when I say he's the "baby"). This means that while most of his cousins are grown men and women who may or may not have gotten into trouble now and then, Carter can still charm his way into the hearts (and homes) of his aunts and uncles. This includes, but is not limited to, extended stays or what we call vacation.

Last summer, he had such a great time during his "Up North Vacation," getting passed around from sister to sister while acquainting himself with Jack Pine Savages, he decided to do it again. Mission control was once again at my sister Romey's house in rural Grantsburg, Wisconsin.

Somehow, throughout the course of his stay earlier this month, he managed to do something special with my parents and each of my siblings (except Rayna in Texas of course -- but he spent Spring Break there on his "Down South Vacation.") He went to the fair with Grandma and Grandpa, played at the park with Auntie Nell and cousin Anthony, had lunch at the wildlife park with Aunt Rachel (see photo above), went to the fair (again!) and four-wheeling with Auntie Ro and Uncle Ken, stayed at Auntie Lene's and went mini-golfing with her and cousin Ashley, then capped off the week at the Vikings scrimmage with Uncle Ron and cousin David. Somewhere in between all that, while staying at Romey's, he spent quality time with a bear in their yard, went fishing and lazed around in their pool.

With all that excitement, a kid would be hard pressed to pick his favorite highlight of the week. But he really just can't stop talking about that baby black bear that visited Romey and Rick's a time or two that week -- and even took a nap while they were in the pool. Romey took a picture to prove that Carter was "sort of close" to one. He assured me he was safe. "Mom, they're harmless!"

Really? Harmless? I don't think he knows too much about the wild things north of Highway 8. He does know about being spoiled. And I know about a pretty special family who takes the time to make some great memories for my "baby." Thanks, everyone!

Stick to it!

One of the things I enjoy about working in the publishing industry is that occasionally we get to make up words. (I guess we do that as parents, too. "Hey Carter, look at that truck. That's a pretty big bean dumper-outer!")

Other times, we run across words that sound made up, but surprisingly, aren't. They have officially made it past the Webster auditions. Take stick-to-itiveness. I've heard people say it and I really thought it was a phrase made up into word. Actually, that is kind of what it is. But it's in the dictionary so it's gotta be a real word. It even has a definition: perseverance; persistence.

My sister Rayna and I were talking this weekend about how we both lack the "stick-to-itiveness gene." I think you know what I'm talking about. You get all gung-ho about something, ready to tackle it with energy and commitment and perseverance! And you do -- for about a week or two... or sometimes even a month. And then day by day you gradually lose your drive, your energy, your perseverance.

Are we alone? I don't think so. How many of you have kept your New Year's resolutions? Good for you, if you answered, "Me!" But I bet most people are the same boat as me, sitting in the middle of a calm lake with no wind in my sails.

I find that it is most difficult to commit to something and stick to it when I am accountable to no one but myself. That's why programs like Weight Watchers and The Biggest Loser are supposed to work -- it's that network of support concept. I think they do work, too, with the more dedicated types. I am smart enough to know I can't do it alone. I need major support. I need someone to say, "C'mon, let's go for a walk!" instead of "Sure you can have a piece of cheesecake if I can have one, too."

My sister Rayna and my twin Raylene are struggling through this right along with me so we have a plan. We are going to be accountable to each other. Each day we have to send an email telling our "health" progress (we don't like that word diet), stating if we ate healthy that day and if we exercised. The catch, just like with all the other support programs out there, is that we have to be honest.

Yesterday, we were at a party and I enjoyed a mini-cheesecake (hey, I said "mini") and later a piece of birthday cake. Jim says, "Are you going to report to Rayna that you had two desserts?" I quickly responded, "That doesn't start 'til tomorrow! Today is my last day to do this!"

So now the whole world (well, my little world) knows I had two desserts yesterday. I also got up at 5:15 this morning to run on the treadmill and ate very healthy today. So maybe there is hope for me yet. Of course, going forward, only Rayna and Raylene will know ... and Jim ... and you, when I am successful.

And I will be. I'm gonna find me some of that calorie-free stick-to-itiveness and load up on it! I might even be willing to share.

Fore!

Before anyone steps foot on a golf course, they need a quick study of golf etiquette. Etiquette? Yes etiquette, a code of conduct -- if you will -- for what was once known as a "gentleman's game."

Many of the rules are really designed to show respect for the course and other players. Don't talk when they are swinging anything -- from driver to putter. And certainly don't stand in their way or walk across their putting line.

One of the most popular rules everyone knows but (thankfully) we don't use that often is when you hit the ball and it appears it may be about to hit another player, you yell "Fore!" The would-be targets know to look and/or head for cover.

I realized two things this weekend: 1) This rule should apply to any flying object in golf, including clubs. 2) Sometimes there just isn't time to yell anything, let alone a word of warning.

Carter and I went to the driving range to hit a bucket of balls. Since he swings left (like he bats), we sort of faced each other. I noticed he was missing the ball and getting frustrated.

I was trying to explain that on his back swing, he'd stand up a bit so when he swung at the ball, his club was no longer lined up, so he'd miss. I decided to demonstrate the point -- and that was my mistake. Remember I said not too long ago that the course of your life (or your day at least) could change in a split-second?

I walked around Carter and from behind I put my hands on his shoulder. I said, "Now when you swing, pretend that someone is holding your shoulders in place so you can't lift them up." I didn't get the chance to say "Don't swing yet." I didn't get the chance to step back to watch. I didn't get the chance to yell "Fore!"

He swung. And on the follow-through, his driver came round and smacked me in the face. I was so stunned, I didn't scream or anything. I just sucked in a loud breath and, holding the right side of my face, I walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. I was just so stunned, I didn't even cry.

Carter cried later when my face started puffing up. He kept saying he was sorry and I assured him it wasn't his fault. He didn't know not to swing because I didn't get a chance to tell him. These things happen -- that's why they're called accidents.

I expected to wake up with a big goose egg of a bruise but it is just a bit puffy along my right jawline. It still hurts something fierce to touch it, but that will be a good reminder to think before I act.

And definitely a good reminder that I shouldn't be giving golf lessons to begin with. I mean really, what was I thinking?! You're right. I wasn't.

Dawg-gone

As I write this, my friend Tamara is probably traversing Minnesota (the state she hates -- but I forgive her) on her way home to Montana. I shouldn't say "home." She is going to her birthplace to get married and then it's off to Indianapolis, never to return (well it's unlikely) to Iola.

When I hired Tamara last summer, it turned out she became a pretty cool friend to me and one special lady for my Carter. It will be strange not having T-Dawg around. Who will be my tennis double? Who will spike my great sets? Who will be my personal trainer and tell me what to eat before a race? Who will take my son out to dinner?

Since tradition states we go to Shivers for special occasions, we met Tamara there last night for one last time. It was a time to laugh about the past year, lick our Flavor Burst cones and flurries, and discuss possibilities of one day meeting again.

Unfortunately, we won't be driving out to the wedding but Tamara has this idea of driving back to Wisconsin next summer to pick up Carter and take him to a cool cowboy kids camp. "Unless I have a good reason to come back sooner," she says. Carter thinks turning double digits in May is a good reason. We'll see.

Before we said our tearful goodbyes, Carter said he'd miss her and added, "I think everyone you know here will miss you." We will, Tamara.

Happy trails, T-Dawg!

A word of advice

I had to chuckle when I was reading my sister Rayna's blog this week. She was talking about her innate ability to stick her nose in other people's business ... with good intentions, of course.

I believe it's a typical trait in the oldest child to feel responsible for the happiness of her siblings. First borns are natural leaders, high achievers and they like to be in control.

I've mentioned before that I call Rayna my "upstairs mother." Not because she is bossy but because I value her wisdom and guidance. She has experienced a lot -- good and bad -- and if she can tell me, the youngest child, something that will prevent me from making some of the poor choices she made, I am listening!

In what I call "the secret life of Robyn Austin," there are people who look to be me for advice, too, because of some of my personal tribulations and triumphs. Like my sister, I want to help these people. I don't want them to make the same mistakes I made or experience the pain I've had to endure.

What I've learned is that I can't make them do anything. I can't save their lives. I can only help them save themselves. And I can only do that by "walking the walk," as they say. I can spout off all the wisdom in the world but it has no credibility unless my actions speak louder than words.

I must confess I don't always do that. I've been a great cheerleader lately for some loved ones trying to lose weight and make healthy choices. I sit at my desk eating a brownie or some other treat while emailing them to "keep up the good work!"

No wonder I am getting nowhere. I need to light a fire under my own ass, quit "talking the talk" and start "walking the walk!" Actually walking would be a great place to start! My twin, Raylene, has agreed to be my "fire-starter," so to speak, and help keep me on task. This is a good thing -- because sometimes when I walk down a path alone I get lost.

Serenity now!

It's been a pretty dry summer. Our lawn is patchy with 6-inch weeds some places and brown spots in others. In Door County this weekend, there was a campfire ban on the island and one of the golf courses had places where I hit off of dirt.

I'm experiencing a different kind of drought, too. My "well" of patience and tolerance has run dry!

It's just been one of those weeks where I want the world to grow up, act its age, be responsible, care, share, give back. It's such a small request, isn't it?

I've had a discouraging few days where in my "service" work, I am running into people who don't want to volunteer (always the same people doing all the work) and in my "work" work, I am running into people who don't want to work (always the same people doing all the work).

I guess the frustrating part is that I am one of those "same people." I am reminded that I don't have to be. I don't have to say "yes" to every opportunity. But I think if I am responsible and capable at this point in my life, I should say yes. I should help. I should give back.

What I also have to remind myself is that others are better at saying "no." And I can't change that ... or them.

Have you heard of the Serenity Prayer? "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

I say that prayer every day. Partly because I am a manager, partly because I am a mother, partly because I am a wife, and mainly because I'm human. My shortened version of the prayer is: "Serenity now!" (I got that one from Seinfeld and I love it.)

I do feel better when I say it/think it. I know I cannot change anyone. I can only change how I react to them. Just writing about it now is helping me. I am in a better place already.

I still may need to do a rain dance so I can fill up my well of patience and tolerance. I should also top off my wells of gratitude, unselfishness, commitment ... thankfully (for everyone who has to "deal" with me lately) I see clouds on the horizon.

Doing the Door

In two words, Door County is a photographer's paradise. I definitely took my share of photos over the past two days. I was thinking a lot of my lens-loving siblings while I was there.

I'd see something in nature and think: "Ron would take a nice picture of that." Or we'd drive by an old boat among weeds and wildflowers and I'd say: "Now Rayna would stop and take a picture of that." But I found enough subjects on my own -- and was pretty pleased with a lot of my results. Some highlights:

The golf course we played Sunday was called The Orchards at Egg Harbor. The fairways were lined with cherry and apple orchards. That was different -- at least we could find our errant balls!

We crossed the ferry to Washington Island in the late afternoon. I had just been reading that Door County was named after the Native American translation: Death's Door. That's what they called the land mass because the treacherous waters sunk so many of their canoes between the islands and the mainland. I was glad to arrive safely!

Thanks to the tourist tips from the owners of the inn, we found a special park with a beach filled with water-smoothed rocks. It is such an unusual shoreline -- and in need of protection and preservation -- that anyone caught taking a rock from there is subject to a $250 fine!

The inn owners also pointed out the perfect spot on the island to be at 8 p.m. for the sunset. Looking at the photo above, wouldn't you agree? It was like watching a ball of fire slowly lower itself into the water and disappear over the edge of the Earth. Very cool to be in the right place at the right time!

Today's golf course was quite memorable. Not only did I get my best score of the summer so far, the course offered spectacular views of Egg Harbor (right). It was a unique layout. There were times when we trekked that cart up the entire steep bluff, then shot the ball down to the green on the bottom. Other times we were right along the shoreline. Beautiful! I normally don't take my camera golfing, but I'm glad I did!

For only being gone 36 hours, we took in a lot, yet thankfully managed to relax. And, as Jim pointed out, we filled a couple scrapbook pages! (See why I love him so much?)

Worth the wait

It's like our birthdays and anniversary all over again. Our new garage doors and garage door openers arrived! They were installed yesterday.

This is what we considered our birthday and anniversary presents combined -- so we've been waiting since the beginning of July. At first, I pooh-poohed the idea of something so practical. But, after nearly a year of only one "working" stall, it was a pleasure to press a button and be able to drive in today.

The old doors were so heavy that I couldn't even lift the one on the side that didn't work. Jim was the only one man enough to do it. Carter and I combined did it one time, but then my back regretted it immediately. So yes, it's a practical thing, but worth the wait.

And that's not all ...

As luck would have it, my (I mean our) Dyson finally went on sale today. So I am the proud owner of the dream of all vacuum cleaners. I worked hard for it, too. Seriously, I've been doing some freelance editing to afford this massive sucking machine. I earned it! I (I mean we) deserve it! Plus, now the cat gets to stay -- an added bonus.

And that's not all ...

At our company Christmas party last year, I won the grand prize: A gift certificate for Door County. (If you can believe, it has taken us this long to find a day we both can take off.) Jim and I will be cashing that in the next two days, treating ourselves to 18 holes of golf on the way up the peninsula, staying on Washington Island, then ferrying back on Monday morning for 18 more holes.

It'll be just the two of us so that could count as a belated anniversary getaway in conjunction with the garage doors. Does the excitement never end for us?! We did nothing to earn this one but, yes, I think we deserve it!

And ... if the Powerball numbers go our way tonight, we might just stay over there. Now that would really be worth the wait! For now, we'll take what reality gives us and enjoy it.

Signing off for a few days ...

Sticks and stones

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Really? As I held my sobbing son in my arms last night I was thinking that phrase couldn't be farther from the truth.

Carter's side of the story (the only one I heard): He was upset that the neighbor kids didn't want to play with him and basically told him to go away. "Why do they have to be so mean to me? They hate me!"

That's a tough question to answer. Why are some people so mean? How could anyone hate MY kid? Why can't we all get along? I wanted to cry, too.

First, I assured him he is a wonderful kid and it's anyone's loss if they can't see that. I pointed out that there a lot more times that the neighbor kids DO play with him than DON'T. The important thing is that if they call him names, he shouldn't say anything back. "Do you?" I ask.

No, he says. He had a teacher once who said when people call you names, you should just say "Thanks," because that surprises them and doesn't make it as fun for them so they might quit. Good advice.

It's times like these, though, that he says he wants to move to Iola so he can be away from the alleged bullies. I pointed out that these are not the only kids in the world. And he agreed he'd miss the friends who are nice to him and miss the teachers at Grant Elementary "because they are the nicest in the world!"

I said that's good. There are positive things to look forward to when school starts. Then I get this hiccupy sob with a "I wish I could just be done being a kid and be an adult!"

Oh honey, if you only knew. I tell him grownups deal with this, too, but people can be mean in different ways. Gossip, criticism, back-stabbing... it all comes down to words. And yes, they still hurt.

Maybe when Carter becomes a scientist some day he can invent a special Band-Aid to take that pain away. I believe he has the heart and mind for it!

Loving Sister

I have a Sisters Calendar I keep at my desk. It's one of those stand-up ones you can use year after year -- and I do. There's always something inspirational or sassy to remind me of my 6 sisters. Today's quote from Margaret Mead made me smile:

"Sisters is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but once the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship."

This fits Raylene and me to a T.

As twins, there was an ideal time in our childhood when it was wonderful to always have a playmate. Although we may have been billed as twice as much work, my mom probably enjoyed the fact that we each had someone to play with and pester -- rather than her.

At some point, though, we had our fill of each other. When we attended a country school from first through fourth grade we were the only girls in our 6-member class. (Sounds like great odds, doesn't it?) When we went into town to school in fifth grade, for the first time, we were not in the same classroom. Our world opened up to meeting other girls and forming new friendships. We never looked back.

Bring on sibling rivalry! Being typical selfish and spiteful teen girls, we really avoided each other at all costs. Or fought. As the babies in the family, it was great when everyone had moved on and out of the house and we finally each had our own room. We could still fight though.

Mom would yell at us if she heard us arguing so we came up with a secret code. If we called each other "Loving Sister!" it most definitely stood for something else!

After high school, when we had our very own lives again, there came a time when we really did grow up -- it's amazing how that happens -- and we found our way back into each other's lives ... on purpose! Thank God.

There's been a lot of tough, trying times we've both had to endure in our adult years and I couldn't have survived it all without her undying, nonjudgmental support. We've both had our share of battles, but thankfully they are no longer with each other.

Margaret Mead is right. Sisterhood can become "the strongest relationship." Now when we sign each other's birthday and Christmas cards, "Loving Sister," we really mean it!

Thanks, Loving Sister!

Scenic Route

God blessed me with a beautiful sunrise on my morning run today.

I almost missed it. It was still a bit dark out when I was heading west and then south. But when I turned around to head back north I glanced to my right and saw the beautiful pinks and oranges behind the black silhouettes of the trees.

As usual, I thought: "I wish I had my camera!" But some things are just meant to be enjoyed for the moment -- and we can take a picture in our mind. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone and the sun was up to brighten the day. By the time I got back to the house, the opportunity to share it had disappeared with the colorful hues.

Maybe it was just meant for me. Sometimes I need reminders of the beauty around me. I am guilty of having tunnel vision. Whether it's running or biking or driving, I know where I need to go and how to get there. My focus is often tunneled in on just getting there.

Last week a friend in the publishing business stopped by our Iola office on a visit from Arkansas. He was meeting family in the lakes area south of Wisconsin Rapids so I gave him directions how to get there since 90 percent of the trip is my route to and from work each day.

When he arrived at his destination, he called me to thank me for the great directions and commented, "That was the most beautiful drive I've had in Wisconsin. How did you pick such scenic route?"

Scenic route? Frankly, we drive that way because it is the shortest distance between points A and B. I hadn't considered it a "scenic route" ... or maybe just hadn't noticed.

On my way home that day, I took special note of it. He was right. There is a beautiful variety of scenery. Why didn't I see that before?

Makes me wonder what else I'm missing ...

Back to school shopping

Listen closely .... Do you hear that? My change has all kinds of space to rattle around in inside my wallet now that school shopping is done.

Actually, I'm pleased to report we were under the national spending average. I just saw on the news that a recent survey reveals families with school kids expect to spend $563.49 on back-to-school merchandise this fall, up 6.9% from a year ago. Total back-to-school spending this year is expected to reach $18.4 billion. With that much spent, you'd think the learning part should be guaranteed!

Carter did have quite a list for fourth grade -- lots of notebooks and folders (color coded for specific classes), writing utensils, gym shoes, deodorant and an "inexpensive" calculator.

I don't know why he needs a calculator in fourth grade! I am not going to get on my soap box until I find out why he needs it, but I hope it is only to double-check work. He did need to get multiplication flash cards so it looks like he will do some hands-on 'rithmatic!

His most exciting purchase, of course, was the deodorant. He has been looking forward to this since he saw the supply list months ago. I don't know anything about "men's" deodorant -- only that I am not a fan of Old Spice and I don't want him getting the kind advertised to "drive the women wild!" We settled on something in between, I think. I just know he was very anxious to take a shower when we got home so he could test it out!

The whole time we were shopping and putting stuff away, he was saying, "Oh I'm so spoiled! I love you, Mom!" (He spreads the love a lot when he's spoiled.)

Maybe I am lucky I have a boy. He seems pretty easy to please. Doesn't need new skirts or tights or barrettes or lip gloss for school.

Of course, I don't recall getting all that either. I think we got one pair of jeans and a new shirt. Our big excitement was getting new tennis shoes. I was thrilled the year I got the purple and white Kangaroos with the zipper pockets. Those rocked!

There's just no way my parents could have afforded a ton of back-to-school extras. I'm pretty much bargain-minded when it comes to it, too. We managed to get the deodorant for 97 cents and the "inexpensive" calculator was only $1.49 at Good Will. Did I mention the calculator is pink -- Carter's alleged favorite color these days ("I'm man enough to wear pink!")?

That's going to be some first impression for his new teacher ... a kid with a Mohawk toting a pink calculator. What were his parents thinking?!

Undomestic goddess :: Part 2

Somewhere in my mother's house -- if she could find it -- is a book called "Clutter's Last Stand." She always wanted to get de-junked and de-cluttered, but, as a child of the Great Depression, she just couldn't let go.

As much as I have tried to fight it and absolutely hate that about myself, I have a bit (OK, more than a bit) of that hoarding instinct in me. Mind you, I don't save everything -- just the things I'm sure I'll need some day.

I'm pretty sure my sisters (of course, I am NOT labeling them as hoarders) and I think we are doing far better than Marlys. After all, we do not re-use plastic sandwich baggies and don't cut up used envelopes for scrap paper. We don't save our bread bags to line our boots in the winter either.

So what causes the clutter? Cool Whip containers I may need for leftovers someday (despite the fact I have a ton of Gladware), shoe boxes Carter may need for a school project, every Christmas, birthday and anniversary card anyone in our house receives, ticket stubs and programs, plus just about every paper and project sent home from school.

We have two desks in our office/computer room plus two filing cabinets. There really is a place for everything we need to keep. And everything in those drawers is labeled in folders and alphabetized. But then, there's that other stuff that gets thrown on the desk, which is one big "to be filed" pile.

Last night Jim needed me to find something for an insurance form. I said I didn't know where that is. He assured me that the last time he needed it, I found it right away because it was in some "logical" place. Well, logic escaped me and I couldn't find it.

I was really frustrated after a long search. I vented about how I had filled up a garbage can with "clutter" I threw out last week but apparently I was working in the wrong room. I needed to be de-junking the computer room not the bedroom and bathroom!

Sensing my frustration, Carter (who by the way is a third-generation clutter bug) gently takes my hand, looks me straight in the eye and tells me the following: "Mom, how would you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. You would need to chew and swallow before you could take another bite. So you can't run around doing a million things at once or your mouth is too full. You need to bite one. Get done and do the next one. OK? No more anger."

I guess the 9-year-old is the keeper of the logic in our house. I believe I can get organized one step (or bite) at a time. I am seriously feeling good now about eating this elephant. I just hope it's calorie-free.

Ready to rumble?

The football season has officially kicked off for the Austins. On Saturday we attended a scrimmage between our beloved Minnesota Vikings and the Kansas City Chiefs, who train at University of Wisconsin-River Falls.

Since Saturday also marked the end of Carter's Up North vacation, my twin sister Raylene met us somewhat on the way and delivered our baby to us. It felt so good to be huggin' my boy again!

From there, the Viking-mobile (aka Windstar) headed to River Falls. There were 5 of us, Jim, Clay, Carter and I plus Jim's nephew Colin. He's a Packer fan but we let him come anyway. It rained off and on the trip down to RF so we weren't too optimistic about the weather situation. I was looking at the radar on my Blackberry and I assured everyone it SHOULD be done by 6:30 when the scrimmage starts. (Hey, I need to be just as accurate as the next weatherman.)

After getting our tickets when the box office opened, we went downtown to eat. My brother Ron and his son David met us there. We ate and headed to the stadium with a whole lotta time to spare. Unfortunately, that meant sitting out in the drizzle until the scrimmage started.

The weird thing is that all week leading up to this, our AC was cranked because we were suffering in the heat! We expected it to be around 75 degrees, maybe mid-60s that evening. Darn weatherman! By the time football started, Carter and I were huddling together for warmth. His legs were freezing (he was wearing shorts) and my toes were just about Viking purple (I was wearing sandals).

The rain stopped, but the wind (even though it was at our backs) was wicked. I was so cold I'm embarrassed to say I don't know how a whole lot of the plays went. I did take a lot of pictures, or tried to, anyway.

At about the 8 o'clock mark, there was a bit of a skirmish on the field and practice ended an hour early. What a rip-off! Though secretly I was thrilled to get back into the van and crank the heat on my toes, I felt we were slighted out of an hour's entertainment.

I told Jim I didn't think the trip was really worth it when you consider we paid for gas, food, tickets and parking -- and the weather was miserable and the scrimmage was cut short. He tended to agree.

We did get one good thing out of it. We've got our Mohawked boy back home. And it was sure good to tuck him last night instead of the cat!

A matter of time

They say timing is everything. A split second could alter the course of your existence forever. Don't believe me?

Ask the sprinter whose Olympic dreams crumble because he is a split second too slow. Ask Jim's nephew Colin whose race car is edged out by a split second at the finish line. Ask a baseball player who swings a split second too late (or too early) and strikes out with the winning run on third base.

Ask the drivers in Minnesota who just crossed or were just about to cross the 35W bridge on Wednesday evening. A split second on either side of the bridge saved their lives. Unfortunately, many weren't so lucky.

The lucky ones are people like my brother and my nephew, who normally cross that bridge daily, but opted on a different route home that night. Maybe it was a split-second decision, but it made a huge difference.

The bridge collapse has been called a catastrophe of historic proportions. Much like 9/11, I see it bringing a community -- the city, the state, anyone watching on TV -- closer together.

It reminds us how fragile life is and how quickly it can change. It reminds us to take time (all the time in the world) to tell our loved ones how much we value and care for them.

Every second counts.

Love at first ...

Don't tell Jim, but I've fallen in love while he's been out of town. And I'm not completely surprised by it, either.

A group of us girls at work have been talking about "him" for months. Karen met him first and fell in love. Then Jana met him and wanted him for herself, but Sandy beat her to the punch. It seems like it took forever to arrange a meeting, but it was well worth the wait.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon with him and I experienced firsthand what all the fuss is about. Yes, it was love at first vroom ...

Vroom? Oh, did I mention I was talking about a vacuum cleaner? His name is Dyson -- and I must have him!

Just to illustrate how pathetic my life is ... I took the afternoon off yesterday to "test drive" Karen's Dyson. She's got the animal control model and has been raving about its suction power. She was right. I think I sucked up 8 cats worth of cat hair yesterday.

As impressive as that is, it's also disgusting to think we were walking on what I thought was clean carpet. That darn cat! Since we're on speaking terms these days, I scolded her about shedding so much. But she offered no apology. Typical.

So I guess if we're going to keep her, I'll have to get me one of those incredibly high-priced Dysons. I'm sure I'm - I mean SHE's -- worth it!