Make new friends and keep the old

We've moved into the loveliest little neighborhood. It is a quiet cul de sac street of families with little girls that will be perfect playmates for Julia. In the summer they do sidewalk chalk in the street.

Two sets of neighbors have braved the winter's cold to come and introduce themselves. They came bearing housewarming presents. We've finally found the place where we always knew we should be. It really does seem that the turmoil of finding our new home was worthwhile. It took time, but we found the right one.

Even in the midst of meeting new friends I think about how difficult, perhaps impossible, it has been to keep the old. High school friends, the girl that sat next to me at my bridal shower, the stay-at-home mom in the old neighborhood - all have gone by the wayside of changed circumstances.

I've kept only one friendship from the past. And I wonder who will be in the photographs of the coming years? Those people that were so instrumental in big life events of the past are just gone. New people will fill the roles. I hope some of the newbies will be willing to stick around.

We're cookin' (with gas) now!

After the heavy lifting of the move was done our little daughter and doggie returned from their respective slumber parties and I became aware of a harsh reality. We needed dinner. I now have a gas stove.

Since the moment I was allowed to use a stove (probably upwards of age 16), I've been cooking on an electric stove top. I do a good job, if I do say so myself. I knew things about my last two stoves. The only reason to use higher than number 5 for instance, is if you wanted to boil water.

My new equipment has no numbers. It doesn't even have "MEDIUM".

I took a deep breath and thawed pre-made tomato sauce. I boiled linguine noodles. I missed having a microwave.

The transition is rough. I'm about seventeen third degree burns away from realizing the handles of my pots will now be burning hot every time I cook. I'm thinking of wearing an Ove-Glove on one hand permanently. I've yet to find a way to warm something without boiling it. I'm afraid of catching my sleeve on fire.

Those that have cooked with gas have told me I will love it. Not yet. I'm just hoping to get un-burnt food items to the table at roughly the same time. Lofty goals.

Stress-induced Brain Failure

I made it right up until the closing for our new home with zero stress. Home inspection, packing and setting up utilities, none of it bothered me. My husband looked like pale death. I thought he was taking all of my burden.

Then I had to drive to Monroeville for the closing. I was smug with my GPS and was taken by surprise when it failed to conquer my difficulty distinguishing right from left. "Make a left," said my GPS computer girlfriend. She should be able to say, "NO, your OTHER left." But she can't. I drove a nice 3.7 mile detour on route 376 only to make a U-turn and drive back again.

I owe a sincere apology to anyone who might have encountered me on the road that day.

Other brain malfunctions have manifested during the moving weekend. For example, I am deficient in understanding spoken language. "Are we taking these wreathes?" one of our moving helpers asked. "Our apartment lease isn't up until May," I tell him.

So I'm waiting for things to settle down in the hopes that I will soon be able to function properly once more. Perhaps after learning where my silverware drawer is in the the house or figuring out how to turn on the light in the kitchen, I'll be able to resume normal thought. If you run into me before then, don't bother talking and if I'm in my car - get out of the way!

Lighting an Advent Candle

A week ago our family had its first first public church appearance since our membership. We lit the second Advent candle. This included standing in front of the congregation, reading Isaiah 9 verses 6 - 7, and using a lighter. For years we've been attending church with no thought of participating. This Advent season, everything changed.

I used to do a good deal of public speaking. Starting in Middle School, I was the president of the Student Council. I was elected to Student Council because by voting for myself I tied with the other girl from my homeroom and they appointed us both to the position. Then I was the only candidate for president. I still ran a vigorous campaign, just in case.

In high school I was the president of the National Honor Society. I mention that here mostly because it has gotten me nothing in life other than the ability to list it as one of my accomplishments in an obscure blog post about church.

College at Robert Morris University was filled with Communication Skills classes. Speeches galore.

But for the past eight years I have only used a toy microphone. I haven't spoken in front of more than about ten people. I knew going into our church engagement that I would be nervous. The manifestation of the nervousness would be a Sunday morning surprise.

My body is capable of producing projectile sweat, unintelligible speech, and nervous laughter. I was prepared for all of the above. Instead when I took my place in front of the wreath I experienced a full body shaking. It was quaking really. I looked at my printed sheets and the words jumped around, unreadable. I steadied the papers against my body and made it through the phrase "henceforth, even for ever" in Isaiah. It became a concern to remain standing. Even my legs shook.

Tim read some too. I was too concerned with keeping the mic steady for him (and standing up) to hear how he did.

Afterward a few people noted that we looked calm. Unbelievable. This time everything but my voice shook. Add a new one to my list of public speaking anxiety responses. Even with my shaky difficulty, participating in the service was pretty neat.

Pierced Ears

A complete stranger once asked upon noticing Julia's hearing aids, "Can she get her ears pierced?"

It was amusing to me. The lady looked horrified at the thought that she might have to choose between hearing and jewelry. It's funny the things people think about.

There has been nothing keeping Julia from the ear piercing chair. Nothing but her fear. We decided that she could get her ears pierced for her fourth birthday. She was in the chair with purple marker dots already placed. She asked if it was going to hurt. I told her it would hurt like getting a shot. I think that was pretty accurate, but not an especially timely analogy. She was too afraid and we left with no earrings.

She maintained for over six months that she was going to wait until age 29 to get her ears pierced.

Suddenly there was a complete reversal. Lots of time has passed since those painful shots at the four year check-up. Most recently we were talking about the pain when she was "sewing". My daughter has quite a passion for making "things" with my scrap fabric, needle and thread. "Getting pricked with the needle is like getting your ears pierced," she announced. I agreed. Probably so.

Last Sunday she told us she was ready. She bounded into the chair and sat like a statue to get both ears done at the same time. One Claire's employee was concerned she was positioned to shoot an earring through the hearing aid. We assured her she wasn't.

Forty dollars later it's all ponytails and showing off pink diamond earrings.

My fears about the piercing were immediately erased. There's still plenty of lobe to pull on when putting her aids in. I'm not ripping her earrings out to do it.

And if it's possible she's even more beautiful. A "sparkle princess" as she likes to say with pink diamonds and magic ears.

More Blog Awards

Two new blog awards have arrived! This week I've been honored with a Lemonade Stand Award from Sharing the Pages of Life and a Kreativ Blogger Award from Renee at An Unexplored Wilderness. Thank you to Steph & Renee!

Blog awards are a lovely way to make virtual friends among blogging counterparts. Nothing says "be my friend" like an electronic present. A Lemonade Stand award is for blogs that express "gratitude and/or a great attitude."

Here are seven Lemonade Stand award winning blogs:
Diary of a First Child, The Journey of a First Time Mother
Ollie and Ericka Plus 3
Talking 24/7
An American Mom in Tuscany: Jordan's Cochlear Implant Story
Turn On My Ears!
Impaired but Empowered
I Love You Too Much

Part of the "fun" of the Kreativ Blogger Award is to list seven factoids about oneself. I'll take a run at that: 1. I am unsure that I can identify seven things about myself, but am willing to take up such challenges. 2. I think about Disney World every day. 3. I can think of no reason to ever move away from my little corner of Pennsylvania. 4. My daughter has converted all of the passion I used to have for other things (tennis, football on tv) into single-minded adoration aimed only at her. 5. After a few off years, I'm starting to think everything my husband says is funny again. 6. I love to cook. 7. There are still eight Eggo waffles in the freezer.

A couple of blogs I think are pretty creative get the Kreativ Blogger Award:

Read a Book - Save a Brain: I'm on their writing team, but have yet to get the book to try and save my brain. I think this is a really neat concept that could fulfill my desire to be in a book club without having to leave my house. It's creative! As soon as I move I'm getting December's book.

Karrie Mcallister, Mom, writer, dirt-lover: A charming blog full of the kinds of real-life stories any mom can relate to.

Congratulations to all of the bloggers listed. You are creative, have great attitudes and are generally wonderful!

Scoliosis and my Milwaukee Brace

When I hit puberty, my spine grew "crooked like a question mark" as Forrest Gump would say. One shoulder was higher than the other. The doctor in Washington, PA diagnosed idiopathic scoliosis and referred us to a specialist in Pittsburgh.

It has always been a big deal for my parents to drive to downtown Pittsburgh. The regular visits for x-rays and back brace fittings were a definite hardship. Being amazing parents, they found a route in and out of the city and combined the visits with a day in the Strip District so our time in the city would have some good moments.

Out of two years of discomfort in the contraption they call a Milwaukee brace the fitting for the brace was the most memorable. I had the privilege of being fitted by Manuel De La Torre. We called him Mr. D. He was partially retired in the early 90s when my visits to his office were frequent. He was an amazing person that comforted the whole family in our time of uncertainty and stress.

The Milwaukee brace consists of three parts: a plastic molded piece that goes over the hips, three metal bars (one on the front, two on the back) that connect to a ring around the neck, and leather pads that push the spine straight to correct the curve.

The plastic hip part was made by creating a cast that was used to mold the plastic to fit my very own hips. I had to take off all of my clothes, even underwear. Then I was given a tube of cloth to cover my bits and pieces. Mr. D tied a cloth of some sort to pull my waist in tight. Then he applied the cast. I stood on a metal frame with my arms out to the side for what seemed an eternity. He then cut the cast off and I was released from my first Milwaukee brace indignity. I was scared and horrified. It seemed like Medieval torture.

There were more fittings as the brace was created. The metal bars were put in place. Mine had three of the leather pads.

The brace was ready by my second day of the sixth grade. The social aspects of wearing such a contraption paled in comparison to the discomfort. I wore an undershirt, but the leather pads rubbed my skin raw. I still have scars under each arm. I was hot and itchy in the summer. My mother would put rubbing alcohol on my back and I used Gold Bond powder after every bath.

But I slept back then, like a baby, even wearing the brace. I wore it all of the time, except for a short while to bathe or shower. As my growth slowed I was able to reduce the time wearing it. My parents used to let me take an evening off from the brace and go on the school ski trips.

My dad and I amused ourselves at the doctor's appointments and Mr. D's office with Where's Waldo? books. I can't see Waldo without feeling comforted, both parents were always there at every appointment.

I am a great success story. The curve never progressed to a point where surgery was necessary. That was our goal. My shoulders are even now, something they said could not be corrected. Wearing a Milwaukee brace could never be comfortable, but I'm glad for having worn one. I'm sure that without it I'd have progressed to what they term a "disfiguring deformity" that requires surgery. I'll take the little scars in my armpits over that any day.