The Glass is Half-Full

That headline or title would not be emblazoned across many publications or blogs - but for me, it's headline-grabbing-neon-blazing news! I have, of course, wonderful Wally to thank for the new-found opportunity to lace up those walking shoes. And walk we do - I've taken him around the block a couple times a day since Sunday. For four years now, that was a feat unimagined. I call it my Igor Shuffle - it's not pretty to watch or to personally experience; my left leg and foot drag especially after much effort. So, it's become easier to not make the exertion. And there are the falls, or trips, as I'm walking- and they're not only bruising but embarrassing. Like the time the nice, little old lady asked me if I needed help after a particularly public fall. It's like the chicken and the egg - which came first - the tripping or the fear of walking? Or should I say, fear of falling. I digress. (So what's new!!!). In addition to our new puppy, I think I have

I am currently at the library because my new furry beast makes writing at home nearly impossible! And that's not a complaint, truly! I would have it no other way. I sat down this morning to journal and had to stop several times because Wally decided that he liked the sewing basket or the printer box or the cord to the computer or . . . Well, you get the picture. After several attempts at re-directing, I decided the best course of action would be to forgo any attempts at concentration and take the newest Piggins to the pet store to get some chew toys! But first, I had to shower. As I tried to get ready for the shower, Wally pulled clothes out of the laundry hamper, pulled a pillow off the bed and tried to climb into the whirlpool tub (might have been a good place to 'keep' him but I know getting this monstrous pup OUT of the tub would have been a feat). So, I decided to put him in his crate while I showered. Until this morning, I thought that Wally was a quiet dog. Not

WE have all heard of "Babe Magnets" - those elusive males that seem to attract the females (babes) with little effort. Maybe just by waking in the morning. I've never met one. But I have met Baby Magnets. You know the type - the person that can make any baby or child smile. You see them in church trying not to be the distraction to the baby/child a few pews away - but that child just can't stop smiling or cooing to the person a few pews away. I have met and admire many natural baby magnets. Both of my sisters, Kelli and Kerri, are such draws; babies and children just adore them and the feeling is mutual. My own children just adore these aunts and often text/email/talk to them all on their own! My Mom is another - and maybe that's where my sisters got the gift! I  envy their natural gift. Maybe it's my penance for being the world's worst babysitter at times - families would call requesting Kelli and if she was busy I'd get booked. Poor kids - I&

I was once accused of laying down on the job. The accusation should have cut me to the quick instead I snickered. I was once accused (this time erroneously) of having had more than my fair share of Shiraz. Instead of laughing, I argued vehemently that it was not alcohol that felled me. I was once accused of being a healthy young woman. That accusation brought silent tears of rage at the inaccuracy. I have Multiple Sclerosis until about six years ago, it was a disease that most people could not even tell I had. Now, as I walk with a shuffle and spend far more time resting, the secret is out. MS is a disease that affects nearly 500,000 people in the United States. More women than men get the disease and it is usually diagnosed between the ages of 20 and 40. MS is a disease of the nervous system and affects each person differently. While researchers contend there is no genetic component (many assert there may be a genetic predisposition), my two sisters have the disease as w

Remember when Hillary Clinton caused such an uproar when she wrote that it 'takes it village' to raise a child? I think Jerry Falwell and Rush Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich lambasted Clinton for believing such a communist ideology; I recall the argument that it was the parents right to raise a child as they saw fit. The other day I saw a bumper sticker (wish I could find it because it would be on my bumper for sure) that read: "Forget the village, what about the parents?" While I believe to my core that it is the parent's responsibility to raise a child, there are parents that cannot for a variety of reasons. We experienced a little of that this past spring when John was undergoing cancer treatment in Ann Arbor and we both needed to be away from home. Thankfully, my mom was able to come and be here with Matthew and Delaney. And there were many 'village people' out there helping to raise our children in countless ways. Big and small. I overheard a conver

I have had the opportunity to do a lot of driving lately - back-and-forth to Wabash College and to-and-from Holland, Grand Rapids and East Lansing. It's given me lots of time to think and ponder the greater mysteries of the world; like the purpose of life, why my thumbnails always break first, the speed at which a state police officer will actually pull you over for and the theory of relativity. Oh, not THE theory of Relativity - with a capital 'R", created by Mr. Genius Einstein. No, my own theory of relativity - with a lower case 'r'. Created by this less-than-genius mother of three and wife of one! My theory is that the absolute worst drivers are those that drive exclusively in the left lane (I call them lefties) and the ones that believe the rules of the road apply to everyone except them (I call them exceptional people). I call it my own theory of relativity because these drivers are relatively unaware of how to drive. You know the ones that are going the spe

Seeing the movie "Gypsy" as a young teen, I remember being shocked by the lengths Gypsy Rose Lee's mother took to find fame for her daughters. I was horrified by what that fame cost the young Louise who ended up being the famous burlesque queen of the 20s & 30s. Mama Rose was the epitome of a pushy stage mom. Rosalind Russell singing 'Everything's Coming Up Roses' classically and musically portrays the ambitions she has that will be achieved on the back of her daughter. As a young teen, I couldn't imagine such a mother. One who had ambitions for herself and one who would use her children to achieve those ambitions. Of fame. Fortune. Stardom. I now find myself as a stage mom - and I pray that I will never, ever be what Rosalind Russell portrayed so well; a clawing, pushy, selfish woman. In the movie she is seen yelling at a director because he didn't allow Gypsy to sing the entire song or something like that. Thankfully, they usually don't a