tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20480444625787065042024-03-12T21:35:39.907-04:00BeyondBreathingBlogTrying to live with meaning and purpose...making each breath count.Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-81705153013454664312011-12-09T10:07:00.005-05:002011-12-12T16:30:38.595-05:00Believe...LOVE is what's for Christmas<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Read below and see how YOU can receive a FREE </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>signed copy of <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beyond-breathing-margarete-cassalina/1014768199?ean=9781935278573&itm=2&">BEYOND BREATHING</a></i><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Beyond-Breathing/Margarete-Cassalina/e/9781935278573/?itm=2"><img src="http://www.margaretecassalina.com/images/files/newcover.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Beyond-Breathing/Margarete-Cassalina/e/9781935278573/?itm=2" target="_blank"></a></div>
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Today is <a href="http://www.macysinc.com/pressroom/macys/press.aspx?catid=34&scid=&mkid=360&pid=15362">"Macy's National BELIEVE DAY"</a><br />
<br />
Today Macy's is granting 55 nationwide "wishes" in conjunction with <a href="http://www.wish.org/">The Make-A-Wish Foundation</a><br />
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<br />
<b>Today is a day to BELIEVE.</b></div>
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/believe" target="_blank"><img alt="believe Pictures, Images and Photos" border="0" src="http://i1113.photobucket.com/albums/k507/amandadonavin/My%20Family%20Baganard%20Brindley%20Dalpaiz%20Tibbutt/believe.jpg" /></a></div>
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In today's world we hear so much about the negative; the greed and contempt, the wars and fighting among one another, the struggles and hardships that tear at your heart and soul. How often do we hear of the GOOD that WE are all capable of doing? How often do we hear of what one person's ACT OF KINDNESS can do for humanity? In my opinion, not nearly enough.<br />
<br />
But I<i style="color: #3d85c6;"> <span style="color: blue;">believe</span></i> in the spirit of giving.<br />
I <i><span style="color: blue;">believe</span></i> that gifts don't have to cost anything but your time.<br />
I<i><span style="color: blue;"> believe </span></i>we ALL want to do "good" for one another.<br />
<br />
I learned this lesson very clearly a few years ago...<br />
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<br />
Let me explain.<br />
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Holidays are always the hardest and Christmas is the pinnacle of pain.<br />
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<br />
The joys that used to fill this house now just seem sort of vacant. <br />
<br />
The tree is up…big deal. <br />
<br />
It’s missing all of Eric and Jena’s handmade ornaments hanging off its fake, lighted limbs.<br />
<br />
No Christmas dishes are out.<br />
No Christmas cookies are baking in the oven.<br />
No Christmas cards will be written.<br />
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No, I’m not a Ba-Humbug kind of person, I just don’t care anymore.<br />
Jena took the magic with her.<br />
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If you listen carefully, you can hear her yelling at me right now.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-style: italic;">"Mom, get a grip!”</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-style: italic;">"Where’s the Christmas music?"</span> </b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-style: italic;"> "Where’s the Santa sugar cookies?"</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"> "And where’s my glittered pine cone I made in second grade?”</span></b></div>
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She’d be so angry with me for the way I’m acting. She’d also be bugging me which present was hers under the tree; holding each one up, shaking, guessing…<br />
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Yeah, here come the tears….<br />
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<a href="http://photobucket.com/images/blue%20eyes%20crying" target="_blank"><img alt="Crying Pictures, Images and Photos" border="0" src="http://i663.photobucket.com/albums/uu355/SkylarTheMidnighter/CRYING.jpg" /></a><br />
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One morning in December of 2007 I woke up from a “Jena” dream. In my dream, Jena was shaking a wrapped present and said, <span style="font-style: italic;">"I just know this is my favorite gift, ever!" </span> When I asked her what she meant, she smiled and told me I’d figure it out. Then I woke up.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Great…dream riddles... at Christmas… from Jena.</i><br />
<br />
Turns out, I figured it out and I wouldn’t dare let a Christmas go by without a present for my daughter-especially her favorite gift <span style="font-style: italic;">EVER</span>. <br />
<br />
Here it is:<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKlSvDXAAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/eSAsUo7qljA/s1600-h/xmas+jena+004.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414071443339542530" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKlSvDXAAI/AAAAAAAAAMo/eSAsUo7qljA/s400/xmas+jena+004.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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What’s <span style="font-style: italic;">inside, </span>you ask?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">LOVE.</span></span><br />
<br />
Jena once told me, <span style="font-style: italic;">“When you see love, you’ll see me.”</span> I <b><span style="color: blue;">believe</span></b> her. I know for certain that we take our hearts with us when we leave this world and that love transcends. <br />
<br />
So, back to the <i>'Jena Gift'</i>... since that dream in 2007, my niece and nephew and I wrap an empty box, right before Thanksgiving, and leave a slit at the top. Then between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve our whole family engages in as many random ACTS OF KINDNESS as possible. <br />
<br />
Here’s the catch: they <b>can’t </b>tell a soul. It’s a <span style="font-style: italic;">secret!</span> <br />
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Then we write down all our random-acts-of-kindness on an index card, like we are addressing it to Jena, and slip each card in the wrapped box. <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKnUlRtFDI/AAAAAAAAAM4/VB-5JUsmltE/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414073674098349106" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKnUlRtFDI/AAAAAAAAAM4/VB-5JUsmltE/s400/002.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
On Christmas Eve, when we are all gathered around the Christmas tree at my in-laws, we read them out-loud <b>TO </b>Jena, it’s her favorite gift, <span style="font-style: italic;">ever</span>. It's giving of yourself, it's giving of your time, it's giving of your love.<br />
<br />
She is forever with us. We want her to know we still go “shopping” for her to find her that perfect Christmas gift.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKlS8JYcyI/AAAAAAAAAMw/_ju0ibo6e7g/s1600-h/jena+christmas.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414071446854464290" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/SyKlS8JYcyI/AAAAAAAAAMw/_ju0ibo6e7g/s400/jena+christmas.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>She loves presents, so feel free to <i><b>join us</b></i> in the gift-giving!<br />
<br />
Ok, here's the deal:<br />
<br />
1) YOU do something nice, an act of kindness, then tell me about it by <b><span style="color: red;">midnight on Friday, DECEMBER 23, 2011. </span></b><br />
<br />
2) Please tell me about it either below in the <b>comment section</b>, or on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/beyondbreathing">Beyond Breathing Facebook page</a> , or if you rather not be public about it, you can: <a href="mailto:cassalina65@gmail.com">EMAIL ME HERE </a><br />
<br />
3) On Christmas Eve, my family will read <i>your Jena gift</i> with ours and then decide which 3 people I'll send a <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beyond-breathing-margarete-cassalina/1014768199?ean=9781935278573&itm=2&">SIGNED COPY of 'BEYOND BREATHING'</a> to and you too can *meet* Jena. <br />
<br />
There's so much in this world to be thankful about.<br />
There's so much in the world to share.<br />
There's so much to <span style="color: blue;">BELIEVE</span> in. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">May</span> </span><span style="color: #274e13;">God</span> <span style="color: #cc0000;">Bless</span> <span style="color: #274e13;">you </span><span style="color: #cc0000;">this</span> <span style="color: #274e13;">holiday</span> <span style="color: #cc0000;">season</span>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">(Please feel free to SHARE this blog!)</span></i> </span></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-63760299487051259212011-12-04T22:58:00.003-05:002011-12-06T11:19:17.203-05:00Adventure Day 12The whole point of this <i> "13-Day Adventure to Nowhere" </i> was to desperately try to change the depressed emotional tailspin that occurs between Thanksgiving and December 4th. <br />
It's <i><b> Hell Week</b></i> in every sense of the word. Thanksgiving 2006 was Jena's last holiday with us, the next day her lungs collapsed, and she moved up to Heaven Monday, December 4th.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/112ecaa5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/112ecaa5.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>Though 5 years have past, the horrific ordeal is replayed in crystal clear clarity every <i> "hell week."</i> Just seeing the date, <b>12/4,</b> is a brutal reminder of the last exact date, time and second I held my baby girl.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWGV_QqZwec/Tt4iXZCTv1I/AAAAAAAAAmg/6NXR8T0Vnic/s1600/Jena+2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fWGV_QqZwec/Tt4iXZCTv1I/AAAAAAAAAmg/6NXR8T0Vnic/s320/Jena+2006.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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To know me is to know I don't dwell in the negative for long.<br />
<br />
I can't.<br />
I won't.<br />
<br />
<i>"If you're going through hell...keep on going..."</i><br />
Besides, that's the last place you'd want to set up shop.<br />
<br />
Jena lived with so much zest for life that for me to be miserable for too long would be an insult to her passion of life and all the beauty it has to offer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<center>Jena Marie Cassalina is <b>SO </b>much more than <i>"Hell Week."</i></center><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KKePUPJbAJc/Tt4i63EQ5xI/AAAAAAAAAmo/b2SRRgISa70/s1600/260292_10150217957059351_655659350_7029444_229046_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KKePUPJbAJc/Tt4i63EQ5xI/AAAAAAAAAmo/b2SRRgISa70/s320/260292_10150217957059351_655659350_7029444_229046_n.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/ea971c0f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div><br />
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<br />
<center>And because of her, I won't dare waste a single breath if I can help it.</center><br />
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Eric seems to have come to terms with her moving up to heaven in his own way. He doesn't need to escape from reality and take the adventure with us. I believe Eric has a special connection with Jena...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/3811669c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/3811669c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>...and a unique perspective of it all that enables him to accept what is. Though he too is heartbroken, he has been able to live life to its fullest, not wasting it on what can't be changed. Eric is an amazing son and I learn from him everyday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f884433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f884433.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br />
Marc and I had to find our own solution to honor Jena and survive a heartache that seems to not know time. Last year our <i>'Adventure'</i> was a great start and this year we knew we were on to something.<br />
We knew we can't run away from the pain but rather reframed it into something positive...an adventure of sorts... with Jena guiding the way. <br />
<br />
Call us crazy, but 'The Club' we belong to, no parent should be a member. We don't have a choice to go through this <i>hell week</i> but we do have a choice on <i>how</i> we will deal with it.<br />
<br />
The pain of not having her to hold, hug and kiss will never cease but like Jena told us,<i>"Pain is not a valid reason for stopping</i><br />
...so we do our best to make new memories with our "Flying J"<br />
<br />
<br />
She has shown us that life is beautiful and yes, a fun adventure too...and we need to pay attention to the signs...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fac8aa8b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fac8aa8b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>the best thing I know for sure is that <b>LOVE NEVER ENDS</b> and it IS the greatest gift of all...<br />
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Marc, Eric, and I would not have made it through the day without all the love that came flooding our way either via facebook, text, email, and even phone calls. We were amazed how many people keep Jena, and us, in their hearts. Please know that your love does help heal our hearts, more than you'll ever know...and that is why I am certain that Love Never Ends and we are never far from the ones we love.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-2957582711992820112011-12-03T22:04:00.000-05:002011-12-03T22:04:08.819-05:00Adventure Day 11Today was haul ass day.<p>We were still in Florida and had 1,200 miles ahead of us. We loaded up with coffee and gas, and <i>The Starship Escalade</i> was back in flight.<p><br />
<i>On the road again...</i><p>Marc cranked up his Willie Nelson and I booted up my iPad; what a perfect couple we make.<p><br />
This is <b>Day 11</b>...11 days of adventure, 11 days of life on the road.<p>With 2 days left to go, here are a few things I've learned:<p><br />
Sandbars do <i>not</i> have bartenders...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f9d2ede.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f9d2ede.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
Trucks are <i>not</i> filled with coffee...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/55d0d65d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/55d0d65d.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
<br />
And alligators aren't the <i>only</i> creatures to fear in the Florida Everglades...<br />
<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1016a105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1016a105.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
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I've shared our Jena moments with you that I thought you would enjoy but the <i>best</i> moments were the ones I know were meant just for us to understand...like the the pot roast, the Pilot House on 13 Seaview at 3:13pm, a baby boy, 103 or 33, and of course, the fireworks.<p><br />
I knew this adventure would open our eyes and hearts to signs along life's way and I know my baby girl is still teaching us lessons like:<p><br />
<br />
Anticipate the unexpected...<br />
<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/4069c5e2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/4069c5e2.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
Explore a new path...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/675d8c33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/675d8c33.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
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And set your sail and let the wind take you on your own adventure...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/25b26af2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/25b26af2.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />
Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-73701940391853173022011-12-02T20:31:00.001-05:002011-12-02T20:35:18.061-05:00Adventure Day 10Time to chart the course back home...oh the heavy sigh...<br />
<br />
I know, you really<em> feel</em> for me, right?<br />
<br />
The Adventure has been wonderful and the weather has been picture perfect.<br />
<br />
We sadly left Key West and headed north on US-1.<br />
<br />
Marc still feeling a little <em>'Pirate'</em> thought we should make a stop in Treasure Island, FL.<br />
<br />
We landed 'The Starship Escalade' at an appropriate docking station...the aptly named,<strong> "Caddy's on the Beach"</strong> and had a drink or two...<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We enjoyed the sun, the beach, and the postcard view that will soon become just a distant memory...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBL_4vwuJUo/Ttl3wLDK3MI/AAAAAAAAAmI/l2_3eHwH7kE/s1600/2011-12-02_15-50-08_829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QBL_4vwuJUo/Ttl3wLDK3MI/AAAAAAAAAmI/l2_3eHwH7kE/s320/2011-12-02_15-50-08_829.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The only complaint this New Yorker had is THIS somehow doesn't seem right...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ysn2i4WeoKI/Ttl37azYFII/AAAAAAAAAmQ/4RRtijIxEhs/s1600/2011-12-02_13-42-42_368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ysn2i4WeoKI/Ttl37azYFII/AAAAAAAAAmQ/4RRtijIxEhs/s320/2011-12-02_13-42-42_368.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">A <em>snowman</em> on the <em>beach?</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then we said a sad adieu to our fellow feathered friend from Key West...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Yes, Carisa and Lori...he's been following us. We named him Scully.<br />
Oh, and by the way Carisa, we gave him the Savannah pralines to bring to you...let me know when you get them!Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-69430600464808281502011-12-01T08:18:00.001-05:002011-12-01T19:25:24.715-05:00Adventure Day 9Hyatt Resort & Spa...in Key West...is home for now.<p> Marc was on a work conference call for an hour or so this morning while I enjoyed room service looking at this view: <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A little after 9am, his call was over. He grabbed his coffee, leaned over the balcony, and took in the scenery. A few seconds later he started singing a Jimmy Buffett song:<i><center>"End of the road?<br>What do we do then?<br>Rev it up and jump that buggy to Havanna<br>We're goin' conky tonkin'..."</i></center><p>With that, he looked back at me, smiled and said, "Let's rent a boat!" <p> ...and we did.<p>
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The 'Starship Escalade' ran out of road but we hadn't run out of adventure, so Cap'n Marc took to the sea in search of...nothing but that elusive horizon.<p>
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My crucial job as Co-Cap'n was to kick back and soak in the day.<p>
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Once we tossed anchor and made land, I knew I had island fever and wanted know more about life on Key West. I had a nice long talk with one of the island's oldest residents. I asked him how I could make this lifestyle permanent. He didn't say much but contemplated how this city girl could give up her nails and heels for ponytails and flip-flops.<p>
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<a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/ff41ca4b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/ff41ca4b.jpg" /></a></div><p>Our conversation was interrupted by an island native who asked me to dance "The Scrub Dance" which he said was indigenous to The Keys. The dance was rigid and his hands were a bit 'spongy'...<p>
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I came to the conclusion that I'll be island tourist and do what us <i>tourists</i> do at 5:48pm...in Key West...<p>
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For the second night in a row, we ordered a Margarita and a spectaular sunset...and wouldn't you know,they were both made to perfection!<p>
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<b>Hello, Key West!</b><p>
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<center><b> Sunset & Margaritas</center></b>
<p><p><p>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-62612216944562504702011-11-29T20:55:00.001-05:002011-11-29T22:21:48.775-05:00Adventure Day 7<b>SoBe is SoMe!</b><p>After an exhausting day lounging in the Miami sun...we hit the night life that is <i><b> SoBe.</i></b><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/cb343ccc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/cb343ccc.jpg" /></a></div><p>Here, all the women look like models and the men are flat out <b>GORGEOUS!</b><p>I was perfectly comfortable to see all stares be directed at Marc, though I am not sure he would agree with the same comfort level.<p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After a stroll up and down Ocean Drive, we decide upon "Quinns" for dinner. Ocean Drive dining is beyond compare and we had a perfectly prepared dinner...mine was seared Ahi Tuna with wasabi and Jasmine rice.<p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/acd62fef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/acd62fef.jpg" /></a></div><p>After dinner,we went back to the hotel for a little stroll on the beach...well,let's just say that's what our <i>intention</i> was...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/e6a6a019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/e6a6a019.jpg" /></a></div><p>Vegas doesn't own <b>all</b> the rights, you know. <p>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-35997902307503130562011-11-28T18:05:00.003-05:002011-11-29T10:54:54.869-05:00Adventure Day 6<b>South Beach, FL</b> <p>I'm writing this, sitting on my balcony, enjoying the night breeze and a glass of Cabernet. <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/97002d85.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/97002d85.jpg" /></a></div><p> We haven't <i>quite</i> made it to the Keys...Do you have <b><i>any</b></i> idea how FAR Key West is from NY?<p>Though our minds were set on Key West, our eyes spotted the white sandy beach of Miami, so we pulled the Starship Escalade over and landed for a few nights. We couldn't have picked a better spot than South Beach, FL. We took in some much needed rays and of course, a few cocktails beachside. <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/2a7d1a7a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/2a7d1a7a.jpg" /></a></div><p> Apparently the Art Basel exhibit is here this week in SoBe.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fb291f4b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fb291f4b.jpg" /></a></div><p> The town's a buzz over Art and the beach is beautiful!<p> We thought <b><i>WE</i></b> decided to stop here...but of course there are no coincidences.<p> This is a close-up view from our balcony... <p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/d8ce450c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="640" width="368" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/d8ce450c.jpg" /></a></div><p>And this is the view <b>up-close</b>...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/cb3cd94d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/cb3cd94d.jpg" /></a></div><p> Yeah, I know what you're thinking...we thought it too.<p> We asked the guy on the beach, who's guarding the ONLY art as far as your eyes can see, <i>"So,what's up with the roses on the beach?"</i><p>He said,<i> "I don't know, some big shot artist from NY."</i><p> We smiled and said,<i> "No kidding..."</i><p> We knew Jena was once again leading our adventure!Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-88391891924902990522011-11-27T22:06:00.005-05:002011-11-29T20:54:06.177-05:00Adventure Day 5<center>Savannah, GA</center><br />
<b><i>"Mommy, the Titanic!"</i></b><br />
The first time I visited Savannah, GA was in 1998 on a family trip. Jena was about 6 years old. One morning she had gotten up early and stood on our balcony and watched this huge merchant ship floating down the Savannah River. She yelled, <i>"Mommy, the Titanic!"</i> and the very next moment that ship let out an alarmingly loud blow of it's fog horn. I sprung to my feet, and we stood out there watching this enormous boat float past us. It was one of the best memories with Jena.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/5d0e4d44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/5d0e4d44.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>Last year on our 'Adventure Trip to Nowhere' we ended up here on Dec 4th...the worst day of the year. <br />
Marc and I managed to get through the day with heavy hearts and puffy eyes. We stayed at a hotel in town, far away from the river, and tried to enjoy the painfully sweet memories of our last family trip to Savannah.<br />
...and somehow we ended up back <b><i>here</i></b> again...<br />
This year we stayed at a hotel right on the river.<br />
This year we woke up to the sound of a ship's foghorn deafening blow.<br />
This year I yelled,<b> "Titanic!"</b> and ran to the balcony to watch it float by.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/db89c52d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/db89c52d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I just love Savannah. <br />
I love the history, the Live Oak trees heavy with Spanish moss, and who doesn't love all that Southern hospitality?<br />
If you ever make your way to Savannah, GA...here's my<b> 'Top 3 must-see List'</b><br />
1. First, go to <b><u> Huey's on the River</u></b><u></u> for the BEST coffee ever! I felt like I was in a coffee commercial when I asked our Paula Dean look-alike waitress,<i> "Excuse me, but what brand of coffee do you use?"</i><br />
She cheerfully said in her charming southern drawl,<i>"Oh Darlin' I'll just share our little secret with y'all."</i> And with that she took out a pen and jotted this on our paper tablecloth:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/399e5b17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/399e5b17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>2. Then walk down River Street and stop here:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1e052102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1e052102.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>You can't miss the wonderful smells seeping out of this place. No one can resist trying a free sample or two of their mouth-watering warm pralines right out of the oven. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/da4f989c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/da4f989c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>3. For dinner and a little history...go here:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/a9042764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/a9042764.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Huge thanks to our Facebook friends who kindly answered our quest of, <i> "Where's a good place for dinner?"</i> <br />
Thanks to the suggestion to go to <u><b> The Olde Pink House </b></u>, we had a little history lesson (Georgia's First Bank) and a sensational dinner! <br />
When dining here, you must order their<b> "BLT", Fried Green Tomatoes & Sweet Bacon with Black Pepper Thyme Buttermilk dressing.</b> It's been featured on The Food Network's, "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" ...and Marc agrees whole-heartedly.<br />
But truth be told...the very BEST thing to do in Savannah, by far,...is make "titanic" memories...in fact, make them wherever you go...<br />
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<center> <i><b>"...near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on</b></i><i><b>...once more you open the door and you're here in my heart "</b></i></center>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-44072362657776182002011-11-26T22:32:00.001-05:002011-11-29T20:54:45.580-05:00Adventure Day 4<i> Co-Captain's log...star date 11.26</i><p> We left Richmond,VA with one thing on our minds...<p>A Margarita, in Key West, watching the sunset over the ocean.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1459c704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="273" width="185" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1459c704.jpg" /></a></div><p> The Starship Escalade had a full tank of gas and off we drove South on I-95 as fast as our radar detector allowed.<p> Welcome to North Carolina...check<p>Welcome to South Carolina...check<p>Welcome to Georgia...check y'all<p> We only had 3 little hiccups. <p>1. A radar detector actually has to be <b> "ON"</b> for it to work.<p>2. Flying truck tires are not good on the interstate.<p>3. An odd whining coming from the engine. <p><p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/67a88ab1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/67a88ab1.jpg" /></a></div><p> Thankfully, the nice police officer let us off with just a warning...<p> The Starship Escalade couldn't activate its force field fast enough and it only suffered a minor scuff to the front bumper from the flying truck tire.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/effca1f3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/effca1f3.jpg" /></a></div><p> And who needs AAA when I've got Mr Fix-it Man...<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f100173.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/1f100173.jpg" /></a></div><p> And at a rest area, Mr Redneck Man couldn't walk by without taking a shot.<p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/8d59c978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/8d59c978.jpg" /></a></div>He countered by saying, "Well, it is Deer Season after all! "...and wouldn't you know, he got high score.<p>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-68525122824608075122011-11-26T10:52:00.001-05:002011-11-26T11:04:22.163-05:00Adventure Day 3We woke up refreshed and relieved that we had made it through 'Just Thursday' and were anxious to see what today's adventure had in store. <p>
But where to go from here?<p>
With perfect timing, my friend texted me,'Follow the Sunshine.' <p>Back in <i> The Starship Escalade</i>...we left Atlantic City and headed South...that is until we ran out of road.<p>
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Then our ship came in...<p>
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When we arrived at Cape May, NJ our only option was to take the ferry to Delaware. Like herd of cattle we were corralled in place and off we sailed. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/e8cff5a3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/e8cff5a3.jpg" /></a></div>
<p><i>Side note: for the 30 mile trip it was the <b>best</b> MPG the Starship Escalade has ever seen!</i><p>
As Marc looked out at the gorgeous panoramic view I can't help but notice the couple in the car next to us...he's asleep and she's reading on a Kindle...I laugh as I think that is a peek into the 'future us'...still traveling...still together...still embarking on an adventure.<p>
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Until then, we'll just do our thing...<p>Me, Marc, and the open road...or sea...<p>
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<a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/46e6a0f2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="250" width="400" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/46e6a0f2.jpg" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-14260635635060595522011-11-24T21:07:00.001-05:002011-12-06T09:21:05.303-05:00Adventure Day 2<b>Happy Just Thursday!</b><br />
(<i> from Atlantic City,NJ</i>)<br />
And for the first time in 5 years it was really...<i>just</i> Thursday.<br />
We slept in...<br />
Enjoyed coffee with a view...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3u_yUcKg0k/Tt4kgXB93_I/AAAAAAAAAmw/MlVvBNml448/s1600/2011-11-24_12-23-33_597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3u_yUcKg0k/Tt4kgXB93_I/AAAAAAAAAmw/MlVvBNml448/s320/2011-11-24_12-23-33_597.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/7c026981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>then took the elevator down to the action.<br />
Nothing says holiday tradition like the ringing of slot machines, drunk guys yelling "Yo!" and the smell of stale smoke...ahhhh...the casino...filled to the brim with fellow <b>Just Thursdians.</b><br />
The quote of the day was, "What did you win, now?"<br />
I have to admit...<i>THAT</i> was fun!<br />
At dinner we reflected on how much we have to be thankful for and how blessed we are. Eric is home with my in-laws and extended family enjoying turkey, the fixings, and all that is traditional. I'm thankful everyone is where they need to be to get through today.<br />
Maybe what we did, and our Mexican meal, isn't exactly <i>tradition,</i>...<b>yet </b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Xp4B6GtsL8/Tt4kq0lV-dI/AAAAAAAAAm4/Ar7v53Lhgwg/s1600/2011-11-24_18-22-54_282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Xp4B6GtsL8/Tt4kq0lV-dI/AAAAAAAAAm4/Ar7v53Lhgwg/s320/2011-11-24_18-22-54_282.jpg" width="179" /></a></div><b> </b>...but who knows? <br />
We did see a whole bunch of other fellow <i>Just Thursdians</i> enjoying a meal, a smile, and the rattle of casino chips in their pockets!<br />
Nothing will ever be as it was but we will continue to reach for the stars whenever we can.<br />
Now, if you'll please excuse me...I have to run...the paparazzi is chasing Marc...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fac7138c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/fac7138c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-44380261563773110172011-11-23T22:15:00.002-05:002011-12-06T09:25:32.039-05:00Adventure Day 1Adventure: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the <b>Starship Escalade</b>. Its 13 day mission: to explore strange new lands, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no married couple has gone before...stuck together, no reservations, no destination...in search of Sanity.<br />
<i>Margarete A. Cassalina ...co-captian's log, star date 11.23 </i><br />
<br />
We drove south on I-87, to 17 South, to the Garden State Parkway toward Atlantic City...why?<br />
Because of this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://s-hphotos-iad1.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/340851_10150400181684351_655659350_8187621_1538913267_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://s-hphotos-iad1.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/340851_10150400181684351_655659350_8187621_1538913267_o.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>You see, last year we decided where to begin our trip by throwing a dart at a map. That dart toss brought us to The Natural Bridge in VA, then our Facebook friends took it from there. This year, we knew Jena would lead the way and we received this flyer in the mail the day we asked, "Wonder where our first stop will be?"...the "13" is what convinced us.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>However, the word of 'Just Thursday' must have gotten out and the rooms were booked...so we brought in the <b> 'Big Guns'</b>, Captain Kirk himself, William Shatner...The Prince of Price negotiation ...Priceline take it away.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fIPCmADWges/Tt4lDO2TyvI/AAAAAAAAAnA/2OV2J2S82ZM/s1600/shatner_priceline1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fIPCmADWges/Tt4lDO2TyvI/AAAAAAAAAnA/2OV2J2S82ZM/s1600/shatner_priceline1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<center><a href="http://s958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/?action=view&current=47cdd45c.jpg" target="_blank"></a></center>Hurray for Harrahs!!<br />
<br />
Hope lady luck is on our side...because Mama needs a new pair of Manolo Blahniks<br />
<br />
Just a few thoughts from the road...<br />
<br />
Travel with an open mind and heart<br />
Enjoy the Adventure that's about to unfold<br />
And wean Marc off the country stations...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfYR4CSV9eI/Tt4lP_zpFNI/AAAAAAAAAnI/TGMt-4b0GbA/s1600/oldmanlogo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cfYR4CSV9eI/Tt4lP_zpFNI/AAAAAAAAAnI/TGMt-4b0GbA/s320/oldmanlogo1.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i958.photobucket.com/albums/ae64/mcassalina/e0c0dd24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-10267310323661206122011-11-18T21:30:00.010-05:002011-11-20T21:27:41.791-05:00Events & Adventures<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">4 hours</div><div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">600 people</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">1.5 million dollars</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">all for Cystic Fibrosis research.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XtLwklybQHg/Tsb5lfUWicI/AAAAAAAAAiU/i-VIY7gLA0k/s1600/Save+the+Date7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XtLwklybQHg/Tsb5lfUWicI/AAAAAAAAAiU/i-VIY7gLA0k/s320/Save+the+Date7.png" width="258" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">What a great adieu to the last CF event of the year…leave on a high note and a fist full of cash for the cure. I'll leave the event with hope for the future, a couple of roses, and a York Peppermint Pattie.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-538OChmGKrk/Tsb52AWT_6I/AAAAAAAAAic/mjeJsXyD2Nc/s1600/327561_10150393532634351_655659350_8162412_1895218534_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-538OChmGKrk/Tsb52AWT_6I/AAAAAAAAAic/mjeJsXyD2Nc/s320/327561_10150393532634351_655659350_8162412_1895218534_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ahhh, that Peppermint Pattie. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My very dear friend, Donna, makes sure there are plenty of Peppermint Patties at the Gala in memory of my little girl, Jena. “Of course they’re there!” Donna always says, “I would never forget her!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Over a million reasons to be elated<br />
Over a dozen CF events behind me<br />
and only three very painful dates to now endure<br />
<br />
I take a deep breath in and sigh as I think of what’s ahead of me. I take a Peppermint Pattie off the table, and grab Marc’s hand as we walk out Cipriani’s doors down 42<sup>nd</sup> Street, toward our hotel.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Marc and I recap the success of evening as we stroll hand in hand in the brisk night air. I just love the vibe of New York City…all the energy, the unexpected, the excitement that defines NYC. We are here so often that we don’t even bother to read the street signs anymore; we just walk…engrossed in our chat about CF, what we plan to do about the unpleasant upcoming events, and ponder if we should stop at the great wine bar we like on 44th before we call it a night.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Together we seemed to have figured out how to get through in life what most people can’t understand. Perhaps it’s as easy as just taking that one step at a time, hand in hand, where the streets have no names. Okay maybe that last part is borrowed from Bono... </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThwShnF-aXM/Tsb_1UkTCtI/AAAAAAAAAik/RErcg4cD8Yc/s1600/S1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThwShnF-aXM/Tsb_1UkTCtI/AAAAAAAAAik/RErcg4cD8Yc/s320/S1.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My point?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Life is hard.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hearts get broken.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some things are truly out of our control.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the more reason to control how you handle it.<br />
<br />
3 dates left to handle:<br />
Thanksgiving<br />
December 4<sup>th</sup><br />
Christmas <br />
<br />
They have been absolute hell for us since Jena “moved up” in 2006.</div><div class="MsoNormal">One was her last holiday with us<br />
One date I will despise forever <br />
One celebration that's lost it's magic<br />
<br />
We keep trying to find new ways to breathe through them. Each year we try to make them bearable. We keep trying.<br />
<br />
Last year we believe we found the answer. Marc & I decided to change things up a bit. We cancelled Thanksgiving, renamed it “Just Thursday” and escaped on a 10-day adventure to nowhere and didn't return home until December 5th…oh, and we took ALL our Facebook friends along for the ride. We asked, "North on 95? or West on 80?" We let our Facebook friends decide "Chattanooga or Memphis?" "Hurricane or Margarita?"</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our impromptu trip turned in to a communal escape from reality...with nothing but a suitcase, a smartphone and a sense of adventure. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Well, after our walk down the streets of NYC it inspired us to do it again. We are setting out Wednesday night for another adventure to nowhere...<br />
<br />
…so, I'm asking, "U2?"<br />
<br />
Adventure begins November 23rd...FOLLOW US!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/margarete.cassalina" style="color: #3b5998; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_TOP" title="Margarete McCord Cassalina">Margarete McCord Cassalina</a><span style="color: #555555; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;"> | </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/badges/" style="color: #3b5998; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_TOP" title="Make your own badge!"></a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/margarete.cassalina" target="_TOP" title="Margarete McCord Cassalina"><img src="https://badge.facebook.com/badge/655659350.3344.348453132.png" style="border: 0px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div> For those of you new to this, please read <a href="http://beyondbreathingblog.blogspot.com/2010/11/just-thursday.html">"Just Thursday: The Adventure to Nowhere"</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SyvUnPskEEU/TscFozsd5HI/AAAAAAAAAis/1U_5N9vF_80/s1600/ten+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SyvUnPskEEU/TscFozsd5HI/AAAAAAAAAis/1U_5N9vF_80/s1600/ten+days.jpg" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-222597426118968772010-12-04T22:12:00.004-05:002010-12-17T17:37:07.564-05:00Adventure PausedAn adventure.<br />
<br />
<br />
The spirit behind the 10-day adventure was the same spirit that led the way...Jena.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPr0Bn-qlbI/AAAAAAAAAiE/VIfZCZKsQEY/s1600/156149_465505339350_655659350_5399573_8329746_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPr0Bn-qlbI/AAAAAAAAAiE/VIfZCZKsQEY/s320/156149_465505339350_655659350_5399573_8329746_n.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The penny we found on <b>Adventure Day 1</b> was our first "Jena clue" that she was part of this adventure.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqGMiYhP4I/AAAAAAAAAhw/3zXgsPLfVHQ/s1600/149073_466015984350_655659350_5405805_6791822_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqGMiYhP4I/AAAAAAAAAhw/3zXgsPLfVHQ/s320/149073_466015984350_655659350_5405805_6791822_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
We set out to see the country, no plans and no destination in mind. Just love and adventure leading the way. Jena's presence was strong thoughout our trip from our first stop on <a href="http://beyondbreathingblog.blogspot.com/2010/11/just-thursday.html">"Just Thursday"</a> at the Flying J at 3:13 in the afternoon to Friday's unplanned visit to the Natural Bridge in VA at 3:13, and then again at our gas pitstop on Saturday at yet another Flying J at...yup, you guessed it...3:13.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqGR6zxoKI/AAAAAAAAAh0/3cS6eSvFQWI/s1600/76489_466170314350_655659350_5407611_7426926_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqGR6zxoKI/AAAAAAAAAh0/3cS6eSvFQWI/s320/76489_466170314350_655659350_5407611_7426926_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Jena's birthday is 3/13.<br />
<br />
The adventure seemed to be able to distract the heartache associated with this time. You see, this week (4 years ago) is the epitome of pain. The pain of seeing Jena suffer with collapsed lungs, the pain of awaiting for a lung transplant that never happened, and the pain on Monday, Dec 4th when God came to bring her home. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqIxdT4iSI/AAAAAAAAAiA/EMn8sR6D0lg/s1600/jenaoz_003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqIxdT4iSI/AAAAAAAAAiA/EMn8sR6D0lg/s320/jenaoz_003.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
That pain. <br />
<br />
That pain, the monster of all emotion comes back in full swing this time every year and I can't seem to control the intesity. Still, we tried to fight the debilitating force by taking an adventure, with no expectations other than to follow our hearts...and with Jena leading the way it actually did seem like an exciting idea.<br />
<br />
It was. Day after day our adventure grew. Thanks to cyber-space we were able to share our adventure with friends around the country and it enhanced the joy.<br />
<br />
Then came <b>Adventure Day 9</b>...at 11:59pm...in Savannah,GA. We checked into a riverfront hotel, made it to our room only to walk into a wall of emotion that just seemed to be waiting for us to arrive.<br />
<br />
It was now Dec 4th and the reality of this entire trip hit me like a ton of razors. Four years ago today was the last time I saw, hugged, and kissed my baby girl. At least her birthday is a celebration of sorts...the day she entered my life but today, December 4th, there is nothing good. <br />
<br />
Today is nothing to celebrate.<br />
<br />
So what did I do?<br />
<br />
I opened a very expensive bottle of wine that we bought yesterday from our new friend at Wine World. I poured a very large glass of wine and began to cry. The lump in your throat, can't talk, ugly cry. I was ready for the wave of heart-wrenching pain my heart was about to endure. <br />
<br />
It's like watching your life pass before your eyes...but it was her life that I saw. The memories of the day she was born, the first time she said, "I love you, Mommy" ...her giggle, her determination, and even our heated debates about what I think she <i>should</i> do and what she was<i> going</i> to do anyway. The memories of all the hospitals she endured due to CF, all the suffering she dealt with, all while having the strength to do it with the courage I only wish I had.<br />
<br />
All that.<br />
<br />
All 13 years of memories and emotions came flooding into my heart without any barrier to stop it. <br />
<br />
I finished the bottle around 3am with puffy eyes and swollen heart and crawled into bed. Waking up wasn't much better. But the love of Jena once again led the way and I looked at my phone to see that there were so many other people thinking of Jena and our family today and the tears began again. I spent the next four hours reading all the texts, emails, and Facebook posts of love, prayers, and strength. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqHeq1pV8I/AAAAAAAAAh4/lT7eX7Bu7sk/s1600/valentine_hearts2-60p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPqHeq1pV8I/AAAAAAAAAh4/lT7eX7Bu7sk/s320/valentine_hearts2-60p.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I'm telling you it works.<br />
<br />
The love and strength I got from everyone overpowered the seemingly unending hurricane of sadness and I was wonderfully reminded that love<b> is</b> the greatest gift and love truly is...never ending.<br />
<br />
One particular friend snapped me out of it with her words,"Stay on your journey, don't hide from the sun."<br />
<br />
With those words, I got up and threw all the tissues in the garbage. I took a long shower and headed out into the sun knowing Jena was right there by my side. <br />
<br />
We ventured out on to the streets of Savannah and strolled along the riverfront. We took in the sights of the riverboats, the sweet smell of hot fresh pralines and the live holiday music in full swing.<br />
<br />
Walking down the historic cobblestone streets, Marc and I recognized that life is an adventure and with baby steps you can get through even the hardest of days. The heartache and the happiness, it's all part of the adventure and it's ok to feel the pain, to hurt when it hurts, but remember to get back in the sun as soon as you're able.<br />
<br />
As we made our way back to the car, I stopped at one of the beautiful parks in Savannah. It happen to be where the famous "Forest Gump" bench is. I just had to laugh at the chance of the moment. Of course, I sat down and said, "Life is like a box of chocolates and I've been so blessed with the assortment I've been given.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPr0MZp-1-I/AAAAAAAAAiI/5scyz0Hrv2g/s1600/IMG00337-20101204-1607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TPr0MZp-1-I/AAAAAAAAAiI/5scyz0Hrv2g/s320/IMG00337-20101204-1607.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
...Adventure resumed<br />
<br />
...Life continues<br />
<br />
...Love never ends.<br />
<br />
I love you Jena.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-62422618364642070032010-11-22T21:31:00.002-05:002010-11-22T21:51:35.992-05:00Just Thursday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving: <b>CANCELLED.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Adventure: <b>BOOKED.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sanity: <b>Still up for grabs.</b></div><br />
<br />
This time of year…from now until the day after Christmas…is when I go emotionally insane. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">You see, for years I’ve cooked Thanksgiving dinner for our family and Thanksgiving 2006 was the last holiday I got to spend with my baby girl. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr39ljQHjI/AAAAAAAAAhM/AjqYcHwuo90/s1600/Thanksgiving+with+Jena.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr39ljQHjI/AAAAAAAAAhM/AjqYcHwuo90/s320/Thanksgiving+with+Jena.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">She moved up to Heaven not long thereafter.</div><br />
Since then, I’ve tried to face this time period in so many ways, none of which seemed to let me avoid the emotional roller coaster ride from hell. It’s her <i>anniversary</i>, it’s the Thanksgiving and Christmas season that she’s not a part of anymore, it’s the decorations, the holiday smells and the gift buying that sends me reeling in and out of grief, depression, and wonderful happy memories. I am at the mercy of this emotional tailspin, and I can’t seem to pull myself out until Dec 26th. <br />
<br />
December 26th seems to have now become one of my favorite days…it’s the day I can say, “It’s over.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOsgHHFdJHI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YqCWI1LQsfI/s1600/thitsover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOsgHHFdJHI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YqCWI1LQsfI/s1600/thitsover.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
This year I’m trying something new.<br />
<br />
This year I’m shaking things up.<br />
<br />
This year I’ve <b>cancelled </b>Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
Yup.<br />
<br />
It’s now called: "Just Thursday” or “The Thursday formally known as Thanksgiving.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr6wYbkCtI/AAAAAAAAAhU/MmyS4VGnDbc/s1600/Prince.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr6wYbkCtI/AAAAAAAAAhU/MmyS4VGnDbc/s1600/Prince.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Why this year?<br />
<br />
This year has been a very tumultuous year on so many levels that I don’t think I can handle any more emotional drama. To force myself to forge through yet another “<i>The Thursday formally known as Thanksgiving</i>” would surely send me on a disturbing tailspin plunge into an inevitable breakdown and I was afraid I may not recover.<br />
<br />
So as to avoid the Funny Farm showing up anytime soon, Marc and I made the decision that on <b><i>"Just Thursday,</i></b>" we will be getting in our car with just a wallet, a suitcase, and a map.<br />
<br />
No reservations, no plans, and no one is expecting us…anywhere…for 10 days.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr84rMTinI/AAAAAAAAAhY/0toUP1J9ufg/s1600/ten+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr84rMTinI/AAAAAAAAAhY/0toUP1J9ufg/s1600/ten+days.jpg" /></a></div><br />
10 days of adventure.<br />
<br />
10 days of spontaneity.<br />
<br />
We got the idea from Eric when he and Dean took their cross-country road-trip back in May.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://beyondbreathingblog.blogspot.com/2010/05/everything-i-do.html">(My Blog about Eric and Dean's Road Trip!)</a></div><br />
By the way, Dean’s family is where Eric will be giving thanks on <b><i>"Just Thursday</i></b>."<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm not sure this is the answer, but we are all trying something new to get through what we will never understand.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr_nVP6rdI/AAAAAAAAAhc/90jv1bWjKyQ/s1600/jenaoz+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOr_nVP6rdI/AAAAAAAAAhc/90jv1bWjKyQ/s320/jenaoz+003.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So on <b><i>"Just Thursday,"</i></b> Marc and I are leaving, bright and early, to get a jump start on our 10-day adventure to nowhere but I bet we'll make good time!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOscjiKgpGI/AAAAAAAAAhk/SEjgOzrryuE/s1600/traffic_stop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOscjiKgpGI/AAAAAAAAAhk/SEjgOzrryuE/s320/traffic_stop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> And watch out, our adventure may be coming to a city near you!</span></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOsGFa2-mUI/AAAAAAAAAhg/EaQQzbwVpFo/s1600/sswlvacationjma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TOsGFa2-mUI/AAAAAAAAAhg/EaQQzbwVpFo/s320/sswlvacationjma.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>(You can follow our 10-day adventure on Facebook) </i></div><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/margarete.cassalina" style="color: #3b5998; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_TOP" title="Margarete McCord Cassalina">Margarete McCord Cassalina</a><span style="color: #555555; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px; text-decoration: none;"> | </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/badges/" style="color: #3b5998; font-family: "lucida grande",tahoma,verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_TOP" title="Make your own badge!">Create Your Badge</a><br />
<a href="http://www.facebook.com/margarete.cassalina" target="_TOP" title="Margarete McCord Cassalina"><img height="84" src="http://badge.facebook.com/badge/655659350.3344.348453132.png" style="border: 0px none;" width="358" /></a>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-72745003860166944252010-08-17T22:20:00.002-04:002010-08-18T17:47:50.980-04:00Girls! Girls! Girls!Yup…I’m back on an airplane heading to Florida.<br />
<br />
I am now on a first name basis with the Jetblue flight crew and they have me seriously considering applying for a job.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGsu0ng_xkI/AAAAAAAAAgc/o5qo_7oDg0Q/s1600/flight_attendant_dl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGsu0ng_xkI/AAAAAAAAAgc/o5qo_7oDg0Q/s320/flight_attendant_dl.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
This time I am not flying to a CF event, there is no book signing and Marc is not sitting next to me. <br />
<br />
I’m flying solo, baby.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGswPqgCn8I/AAAAAAAAAgg/EqrnF_FLGBY/s1600/soaring_above_the_clouds,_boeing_737.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGswPqgCn8I/AAAAAAAAAgg/EqrnF_FLGBY/s320/soaring_above_the_clouds,_boeing_737.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This year has been such a transitional year.<br />
<br />
Eric is thankfully doing very well with his battle against CF, dare I say, we are defeating the evil mucus monster with amazing medical advancements. He is now a sophomore at Marist College and his social life is in full swing…which will be <i>another</i> blog at a later date titled : "<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Eric, REALLY???"</b></span><br />
<br />
Seriously though, it is such a heart’s relief that our <i>discussions</i> are not about doing his treatments but about can he wake up <i>before</i> 1pm, and does he really need to go out 6 nights in a row? <br />
<br />
Before our eyes, Marc and I have become basically empty nesters. At 42, we have completed the task of getting married, building a home, raising our children, and establishing our financial future. Now we look at each from across an empty dinner table asking ourselves,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">“Now what?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs0aNCYsiI/AAAAAAAAAgk/Wu7gs0SfvPs/s1600/eco-arguments--Man-and-wo-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs0aNCYsiI/AAAAAAAAAgk/Wu7gs0SfvPs/s320/eco-arguments--Man-and-wo-006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Time continues to fly faster than I appreciate and family and household responsibilities have become less. We have found ourselves with more time to choose to do what we want, to go where we want, and to live life how we want. I still believe in living with purpose and meaning but have no idea where to go from here.<br />
<br />
My whole life I have prided myself on being a good mom and a good wife. I was and I am. My individual desires I happily placed on the back burner until I felt my responsibilities to my family were fulfilled. Over the past 20 years I have tried to spread my proverbial wings by attempting to have a job or go back to school. However, each time I began to soar, CF and all its ugly interruptions of doctors, hospital stays, and daily CF needs forced me to stay grounded. Being a mom always came first. No regret. <br />
<br />
When Jena “moved up” and Eric started college my world changed. In essence, they both fired me independently. So here I stand with my "box of mom" in one hand, pink slip in the other mumbling,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"What do I do now?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs2c4Rv_AI/AAAAAAAAAgo/Jz179JucfGI/s1600/FiredWoman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs2c4Rv_AI/AAAAAAAAAgo/Jz179JucfGI/s320/FiredWoman.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Before I bring out the tiny violins, don't get me wrong. I still fight like mad against CF with fundraising events, national public advocacy, speaking engagements and book signings. I got a "paying" job at the same college Eric is attending so I can be a safety net for him should he need his <i>Mommy</i>. I still support Marc, his career, and making sure we find time to be together, just the two of us.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
I raised my family. Check.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s1600/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s200/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Our future is financially sound. Check.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s1600/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s200/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I’ve supported my husband with his career for 20 years. Check.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s1600/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3R6alhcI/AAAAAAAAAgs/IytZc6NUxw4/s200/692px-Blue_check_plus.svg.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
But what about me, Margarete? The one without all the labels of mom, wife, employee, and in-law attached. Um… un-check.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3sM7CBeI/AAAAAAAAAgw/xpL8TKFAtkI/s1600/CheckMarkX.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs3sM7CBeI/AAAAAAAAAgw/xpL8TKFAtkI/s200/CheckMarkX.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>I feel like I’m missing something inside.<br />
I miss that connection with independent me.<br />
I miss “girl time” and I certainly miss Jena.<br />
<br />
I have been craving that lately. Maybe it’s an estrogen deficiency in me or maybe I am just tired of hearing about motors, hunting, gambling and golf. <br />
<br />
Without Jena…in so many ways I am lost.<br />
<br />
Enter my girlfriends.<br />
<br />
You know the ones I am talking about, the ones that will have wine FOR dinner with you on a Tuesday night. The ones who will tell you when you are in a desperate need of a pedicure, and will call you at a moment’s notice, anytime of day or night, because they know you need that understanding ear or that kick in the ass.<br />
<br />
There is no substitution for true girlfriends or really good wine.<br />
<br />
So here I sit on Jetblue flight 5352 heading to Orlando. Me and some fabulous girlfriends of mine are meeting there for a long weekend of “Martinis and Bikinis,” chocolate and sweet potato fries, and lots and lots of giggles.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Make-up is completely optional but complete honesty is not.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGtAUa_ZytI/AAAAAAAAAhA/Jkj5QjmYt5Y/s1600/girlfriends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGtAUa_ZytI/AAAAAAAAAhA/Jkj5QjmYt5Y/s320/girlfriends.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I need this.<br />
I need them.<br />
<br />
This IS purpose and meaning.<br />
<br />
Sometimes you have to get away from the responsibilities of family and labels of who you are to the <i>world </i>and just be who you are to <i>yourself</i>….a fierce and fabulous female who wants a little escape of personal freedom and a lot soul-filling estrogen.<br />
<br />
I love my girls.<br />
<br />
And I thank God they put up with me.<br />
<br />
I hope you take a little time to lose yourself with your girlfriends because you know reality will always be waiting for you when you get home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs6IliwMzI/AAAAAAAAAg4/Nm5v3CgZR-Q/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs6IliwMzI/AAAAAAAAAg4/Nm5v3CgZR-Q/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Go crazy…peel off your label and see how it feels.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs8lOJADCI/AAAAAAAAAg8/jD_QVtzIddA/s1600/Photo22_001.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TGs8lOJADCI/AAAAAAAAAg8/jD_QVtzIddA/s320/Photo22_001.png" width="320" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-39413680130846333812010-07-17T08:17:00.002-04:002010-07-17T08:25:53.317-04:00FU2CFOk, you're a smart person.<br />
<br />
I'm guessing you have an idea where this blog is going...<br />
<br />
Today my baby boy turns 19.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEEDgaY-pOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/6y2ldH7V4Vs/s1600/ericbaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEEDgaY-pOI/AAAAAAAAAgU/6y2ldH7V4Vs/s320/ericbaby.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Eric Anthony Cassalina, my first born child, turns 19.<br />
<br />
Big deal you say?<br />
<br />
Let me explain.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(excerpt from Beyond Breathing) </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It’s positive.<br />
My whole life I had always thought positive was a good word. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Webster’s dictionary defines it as “favorable.”</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> And when seven doctors at Westchester Medical Center walked into my newborn son’s neonatal ICU room and told me that Eric had tested positive, my first reaction was, “Great! Now let me take him home.” </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
Slow down, not so fast.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
Eric was born with meconium ileus, a blockage in the intestines that usually comes out during childbirth. His didn’t. I was still recovering from having him at Vassar Brothers Hospital when I was asked by the doctor on call to pick either Albany Medical Center or Westchester Medical Center because Eric needed to be flown to one of them immediately. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I looked at Marc, who looked back at me and then at the anxious, waiting physician and blurted out “Westchester.” <br />
Two people in red flight suits walked in and put Eric in a small, clear box called an Isolette with wires hooked up to him. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>They whisked Eric off to a waiting helicopter. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
I discharged myself, and Marc and I drove by car to meet Eric at Westchester Medical Center which was over an hour away. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>He was already in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) by the time we arrived. They ran tests for two days, trying to figure out what was wrong with my baby boy. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Finally they had one more test to give him: a sweat test.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
Marc and I were in our sterile yellow garments in the NICU unit. I was rocking Eric in the rocking chair, staring at him. </i><br />
<i>His tiny hand grasped my pinky. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>He was swaddled in the hospital blanket, which did a poor job of hiding all the wires that were attached to him. <br />
Dr. Doom, the only woman of the seven doctors who had trooped in, reached for my hand when she said that Eric had tested positive.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Still, it didn’t compute. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“The tests are positive. Your child has cystic fibrosis.”</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
Marc looked at me and then at the solemn faces of the rest of doctors. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That is when I realized that positive is not always a good thing. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Eric had tested positive for cystic fibrosis, </i><br />
<i>and that was not a good thing. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
Cystic fibrosis (CF) was unknown to me—a new mom who had just given birth three days ago.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> What was CF? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>How did Eric get CF? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>How can we get rid of CF?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Is CF bad? </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>One sentence from Dr. Doom would sum it all up for me. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
“CF is a fatal genetic disease.”</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
I certainly understood those words. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>For the next three hours, the seven doctors went on to explain everything we never wanted to know about CF. They told us that cystic fibrosis is a genetic disease that affects the lungs and digestive tract. They told us that CF causes the body to produce thick mucus that clogs the airways, enabling bacteria to grow, which often leads to life-threatening lung damage. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i>What a nice way to say death.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> They told us that the mucus exists throughout the body, causing the pancreas, reproductive organs, and sometimes the liver not to function to full capacity. They tried to ease our fear by telling us that the pancreatic issue can be controlled with oral enzyme supplements, but added that, unfortunately, 70 percent of all people with cystic fibrosis eventually get cystic fibrosis–related diabetes (CFRD). <br />
<br />
Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
The doctors started getting more detailed and explained that Marc and I were unknowing genetic carriers of the CF gene found in chromosome seven. We’d had a 25 percent chance of having a child with CF. Back in 1989, scientists had isolated the cystic fibrosis gene, and they are working on gene therapy and, </i><br />
<i>ultimately, the cure for the disease. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
They had my full, undivided attention when they disclosed to us that<b> </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Eric’s life expectancy was nineteen. </b></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I was twenty-two. </i><br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>(end of excerpt from Beyond Breathing) </i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">So you see, I have been waiting 19 years. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">19 years of loving Eric.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">19 years of seeing him grow and overcome incredible odds.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">19 years to say...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">"HAPPY 19th BIRTHDAY</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> to the most simply amazing son a mom could ever have!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEEBJd_8jYI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ql-_ioHQ06A/s1600/cfw10c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEEBJd_8jYI/AAAAAAAAAgE/ql-_ioHQ06A/s320/cfw10c.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">...and I have been waiting 19 years to say,<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">"<b>F U </b>2 CF!!"</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEECgIj4lAI/AAAAAAAAAgM/0YX1m2vLxo8/s1600/f+bomb+f-bomb+ball+fuse.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TEECgIj4lAI/AAAAAAAAAgM/0YX1m2vLxo8/s320/f+bomb+f-bomb+ball+fuse.png" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-811329497974774172010-07-14T13:21:00.007-04:002011-03-23T13:04:53.907-04:00I VotedI vote for presidents<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3d9D-mauI/AAAAAAAAAfM/5bx4Zo3FCpU/s1600/338516-jonas_brothers_say_nick_run_president_united_states_vote_him.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3d9D-mauI/AAAAAAAAAfM/5bx4Zo3FCpU/s320/338516-jonas_brothers_say_nick_run_president_united_states_vote_him.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
not idols.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3eBf8UmVI/AAAAAAAAAfU/JSFFLmPW7yM/s1600/simon_cowell-764078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3eBf8UmVI/AAAAAAAAAfU/JSFFLmPW7yM/s320/simon_cowell-764078.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I know who Sean Hannity is but have no idea what a Kardashian is.<br />
<br />
I really don’t care for television and think the term “Reality TV” is an oxymoron.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3eRi-T55I/AAAAAAAAAfc/PwBqe2zWU7k/s1600/idiot%2520box%2520television%2520bad%2520stupid%2520waste%2520time%2520dumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3eRi-T55I/AAAAAAAAAfc/PwBqe2zWU7k/s320/idiot%2520box%2520television%2520bad%2520stupid%2520waste%2520time%2520dumb.jpg" /></a></div><br />
But yesterday was different.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Ali and her little sister Christina were living out their dream on <i>America’s Got Talent</i> and I watched with undivided attention. I got to not only watch their dream unfold before my very eyes but I got to help continue to “Make-A-Wish” come true. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="195" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ksMxYnEEeGA" title="YouTube video player" width="320"></iframe><br />
<br />
Christina and Ali are sisters who have Cystic Fibrosis and are pursuing their dreams of singing on national TV. When they were little, they were told that they never would be able to because of the constant assault CF executes to the lungs. <br />
<br />
America’s Got Talent has launched the girls' dream by getting them through the first 2 rounds of competition. Now it’s up to us, America, to see that dream continue. In my opinion, the show has gone from America’s Got Talent to America’s Got <b>Responsibility</b>.<br />
<br />
Another life lesson folks: It’s not always about being the best of the best but about being the best of “you.” It’s about living with determination, overcoming insurmountable odds and pursing your dream with all you’ve got. If I can help, then I’m all in. I’ll even watch TV and learn how to “call in a vote.”<br />
<br />
Watching these girls sing was amazing. I clapped, I cheered and I cried, all from my living room couch. You have no idea what these girls have to go through just to stand there and belt out <i>one</i> song. <br />
<br />
You have no idea.<br />
<br />
Want to have an inkling of how it feels to have CF lungs? Grab a straw, stick it in your mouth and only breathe through that while you go about your day…<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3ebxMQ7rI/AAAAAAAAAfk/iHmtrIPYqbg/s1600/straw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3ebxMQ7rI/AAAAAAAAAfk/iHmtrIPYqbg/s320/straw.jpg" /></a></div><br />
...yeah, now try singing. <br />
<br />
One vote does make a difference.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3iyUCElLI/AAAAAAAAAfs/BcZb9hn4Ncs/s1600/your_vote_counts_button_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3iyUCElLI/AAAAAAAAAfs/BcZb9hn4Ncs/s320/your_vote_counts_button_3.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
One vote for two dreams. Great return on investment, don’t you think?<br />
<br />
Okay, truth be told, I voted more than once. I voted <i>ten times</i> from my home phone, ten times from blackberry, and ten times from my husband’s cell. I even voted twice via text until I realized AT&T isn’t my provider and the votes didn’t count. Being a newbie to this type of voting, I got excited to be a part of something special. But I’m aged in knowing when to support a dream, and I’ll do anything I can.<br />
<br />
These girls’ dreams are amazing.<br />
<br />
Their message is phenomenal.<br />
<br />
They are what heroes are made of.<br />
<br />
I know how to vote for a president...<br />
<br />
...and <i>now</i> I know how to vote for an idol!<br />
<br />
Do you?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3xJAFx10I/AAAAAAAAAf8/Lp_g4o2CoZY/s1600/text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TD3xJAFx10I/AAAAAAAAAf8/Lp_g4o2CoZY/s320/text.jpg" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-57142953179430179642010-07-02T21:09:00.000-04:002010-07-02T21:09:46.572-04:00Feel thatFeel that?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC58oZgGqAI/AAAAAAAAAeM/nAyZ-TPfrSA/s1600/sun_rays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC58oZgGqAI/AAAAAAAAAeM/nAyZ-TPfrSA/s320/sun_rays.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Smell that?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC58WR9c55I/AAAAAAAAAeE/_cxKAWfEb-o/s1600/bbq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC58WR9c55I/AAAAAAAAAeE/_cxKAWfEb-o/s320/bbq.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Hear that?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC580vRx5qI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ekJX2v73tDo/s1600/fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC580vRx5qI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ekJX2v73tDo/s320/fireworks.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Yup..those are my official sounds of summer.<br />
<br />
You gotta thank Mother Nature for always nudging us to, “Move along, little ones…move along.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC59Kq9MSSI/AAAAAAAAAec/FsRcMrQVDCo/s1600/mn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC59Kq9MSSI/AAAAAAAAAec/FsRcMrQVDCo/s320/mn.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It’s been a long-hard Spring in the CF world. There have been some seriously heartbreaking stories, tissue boxes full of tears, and questions that will never be answered this side of heaven.<br />
There are so many times I want to give up, throw my hands in despair, and SCREAM<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6D7hiDE7I/AAAAAAAAAe8/i3nxSbx4cA0/s1600/300px-Angry_Talk_%28Comic_Style%29.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6D7hiDE7I/AAAAAAAAAe8/i3nxSbx4cA0/s320/300px-Angry_Talk_%28Comic_Style%29.svg.png" /></a></div>Then I hear a little voice say, “If not <i><b>you</b></i> then <i><b>who</b></i>?”<br />
<br />
I put my hands down, kick my own ass, and tell myself get over it and keep fighting.<br />
<br />
I will.<br />
<br />
But not today. <br />
<br />
Today I need to grab a hotdog, soak up the sunshine, and chill with family and good friends. It’s time I acknowledge how grateful I am to be alive, to be breathing, and to feel loved.<br />
<br />
Love <i><b>is</b></i> a good thing.<br />
<br />
No,it’s not just good…Love is the <i>greatest</i> thing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6COQhl5KI/AAAAAAAAAes/uLwM0nqyI9U/s1600/hm1072020the20greatest20is20love20magnet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6COQhl5KI/AAAAAAAAAes/uLwM0nqyI9U/s320/hm1072020the20greatest20is20love20magnet.jpg" /></a></div> As Sarah says, “<b><span style="color: red;">Love, Love, Love</span></b>.” <br />
<br />
This blog is short because you should be shutting off the computer, laughing with friends, and be giving thanks to those who fought for our independence.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6CtFmG8FI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hTObsxFk9jc/s1600/happy-independence-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6CtFmG8FI/AAAAAAAAAe0/hTObsxFk9jc/s320/happy-independence-day.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Life is about balance.<br />
<br />
Life is about working hard toward your dreams and never giving up.<br />
<br />
Life is about love.<br />
<br />
Now go love yourself and get outside, you never know what you'll find.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6B9TUVYbI/AAAAAAAAAek/XDuoKqAF2ZY/s1600/estrella3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TC6B9TUVYbI/AAAAAAAAAek/XDuoKqAF2ZY/s320/estrella3.jpg" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-7904520436340765362010-06-25T14:44:00.003-04:002011-03-23T13:06:18.294-04:00GoodbyeNo one likes to say goodbye.<br />
<br />
Sometimes you’re told you have 10 minutes to say goodbye:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(excerpt from Beyond Breathing) </span></i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>Dr. Smarty-Pants gave me ten minutes.</i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>Ten minutes.</i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>That’s all I get to tell Jena everything in my heart. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>To tell her how much joy she’s brought me. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>To tell her how much I love her.</i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I had ten minutes.</i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I told her all those things. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I told her that if I could be just a fraction of the person she was, I would be the most incredible person ever. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I told her that if I could bring half of the smiles and laughter she did I would be honored to stand in her shadow the rest of my life. I cried. I couldn’t stop crying.</i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>As the tears relentlessly streamed down my face, I apologized for any and every fight we ever had. I apologized for any time she was mad at me or I was mad at her. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I told her again and again how much I loved her, how proud I was of her, and how much she’d taught me that I would never be able to repay. </i></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>I cried. I was shaking. I was terrified. </i><br />
<i>I couldn’t believe I was doing this, I couldn’t believe that I had to.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Sometimes you’re told you have months:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (excerpt from blog: <a href="http://notsobrightandshiny.blogspot.com/">Not so Bright and Shiny</a>)</span></i><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="color: red;">I believe in God, and I fully know He's holding us so close to him that he's carrying us right now...but man...I wish that gave me peace. A sense of relief, anything...but the never ending "why's" don't go away just because you know and trust God. Kids shouldn't die, plain and simple. Parents shouldn't have to be thinking these things and filling out DNR's and shopping around for fairly priced funeral services. It's not natures order. It's the complete opposite of order</span></i></div></div><div style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i></i></div><div style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><i>…Why in Gods name is my seven year old son dyeing...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Sometimes goodbye has no warning and time is up.<br />
<br />
I’m blasting Nickelback’s, “If Today Was Your Last Day”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(lyrics) </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>So do whatever it takes </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Let nothin' stand in your way </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Cause the hands of time are never on your side </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If today was your last day </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>and tomorrow was too late</i></div><br />
For little 7 year old Conner Jones, today was his last day, his last breath, his last time being wrapped in the arms of his mother, tomorrow is too late.<br />
<br />
Cystic Fibrosis stole another precious life from a devastated family.<br />
<br />
Cystic Fibrosis steals a life every single day, 365 days a year.<br />
<br />
Cystic Fibrosis is the epitome of evil.<br />
<br />
Am I’m crying? Yes.<br />
<br />
But I’m pissed-off more.<br />
<br />
How dare life be unbearably hard and hurt so much for some people?<br />
<br />
How dare others waste their days like the world owed them _______ (happiness, a new car, a promotion...fill in the blank.)<br />
<br />
News flash people, the world owes you <i>nothing.</i> Got that?<br />
<br />
It’s up to you to find value, meaning, and purpose.<br />
It’s up to you to work at it.<br />
<br />
Today, right now, I have no patience for selfish- egocentric-morons.<br />
<br />
Tell Conner’s mom about the ridiculously long line you had to wait in for your new iphone while she’s picking out an outfit for Conner to be buried in.<br />
<br />
Tell her about your chipped nailpolish, your broken pool heater, the exorbitant price of your Disney family vacation. I dare you.<br />
<br />
Did I mention how pissed I am?<br />
<br />
I’m angry, frustrated and I’m heartbroken.<br />
<br />
Granted there are many illnesses out there that people struggle with everyday. I get that.<br />
<br />
I get that there is stress, tough times and hardships in everyone’s life. I get that too.<br />
<br />
That’s not what I’m talking about here, I’m talking about those people that create drama by their poor choices not by life’s circumstance. Those that have “it” all and waste it like it was yesterday’s news. Those that find meaningless problems some of us wish we had.<br />
<br />
Yeah,<i><b> them</b></i>.<br />
<br />
Tell them about Emily, who does two hour breathing treatments just to breathe. Tell Emily and who has committed herself to exhausting daily workouts to achieve her goal of riding her bike city to city.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">(Washington DC to Shepherdstown, West Virginia)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTw1UKwnBI/AAAAAAAAAd0/u3K8bDtr8nk/s1600/Emily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTw1UKwnBI/AAAAAAAAAd0/u3K8bDtr8nk/s320/Emily.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Tell Ronnie who has CF, was told his life expectancy is "now up to" 37, and has spent more time in a hospital than he can count, who defies CF’s fatal reach by not only writing an amazingly inspirational blog <a href="http://runsickboyrun.blogspot.com/">http://runsickboyrun.blogspot.com/</a> but is planning for his fabulous future with beautiful wife Mandi.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTuo3zK7aI/AAAAAAAAAdk/gOBx0T2YACs/s1600/rondiwedding-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTuo3zK7aI/AAAAAAAAAdk/gOBx0T2YACs/s320/rondiwedding-9.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Tell Ali and Christina, sisters who both have CF, who were told at a young age that their lungs would never allow them to sing. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="195" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ksMxYnEEeGA" title="YouTube video player" width="320"></iframe><br />
Tell them how hard you have it.<br />
<br />
Hello people… this life ain’t no dress rehearsal!<br />
<br />
Each day is a gift.<br />
<br />
Each day is an opportunity to pursue your dreams.<br />
<br />
Each day is <b>all you have </b>to <b>give all you’ve got</b>.<br />
<br />
When do you stop giving?<br />
Never.<br />
<br />
When do you say goodbye?<br />
Never.<br />
<br />
I never said “goodbye” to Jena and I never will.<br />
She’s in my heart forever; alive and well.<br />
<br />
I’ll never stop fighting for CF until it means Cure Found.<br />
<br />
Little Connerman and Jena gave us more love in their little lives than I could have ever imagined.<br />
<br />
The world owes me nothing, yet I owe the world everything.<br />
<br />
I think that’s a fair trade.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTvXxZH9OI/AAAAAAAAAds/0p_fNrgvnD8/s1600/connerandsarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TCTvXxZH9OI/AAAAAAAAAds/0p_fNrgvnD8/s320/connerandsarah.jpg" /></a></div><div style="color: red; text-align: center;"><b> Conner Reed Jones</b></div><div style="color: red; text-align: center;"><b>4/14/2003 - 6/24/2010</b></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-27488884726795559252010-06-19T14:46:00.001-04:002010-06-19T14:58:10.658-04:00Make itI am in the 9th hour of a 12 hour car ride from New York to North Carolina, in the backseat, with no control of the music or temperature of the car. At least I have a stash of chocolate and my laptop to keep me sane. <br />
<br />
My expectations for this trip were low and by<em> low</em> I mean I would have gladly scheduled a root canal to get out of it. Yet here I am, and have been, since 6am this morning with Marc, Eric and my mother-in-law, Ann. We are on our way to a family wedding in the outskirts of Asheville, NC…800 miles from home. <br />
<br />
I can hear you now, <em>Why not fly</em>? Good question. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0IPTV1qFI/AAAAAAAAAc8/rtbMQP84iWA/s1600/18702119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0IPTV1qFI/AAAAAAAAAc8/rtbMQP84iWA/s320/18702119.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Believe me, I tried. There are no direct flights between here and there and the layovers were extensive. The wedding location where we are going is a bit remote, so the difference in travel time was equal, hence the road trip from hell. Here I sit, doing all I can not to pull out my hair, strand by strand. <br />
<br />
I have no internet, no work, no Facebook to entertain me. The incessant country music Marc listens to while he drives is enough to put me into a coma. Eric and Ann swapped seats at the last rest area because Eric was tired from only 3 hours of sleep last night. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the house full of boys that showed up at midnight to “hang” with Eric. He grabs a pillow and is fast asleep on my lap. I look at his legs that are now too long to fit across the back seat anymore and I sigh. He’s not my little boy who used to call me, “Mommy.” He’s a young man who calls me, “Ma.” <br />
<br />
I really am so proud of Eric and all he is becoming. He’s working part time with Marc at Merrill Lynch; he’s taking an online class over the summer to get ahead, and he’s living the social life of a college student. I love that he still takes time to “hang” with the family…and sleep on my lap.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0JVV7DWbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/hDf9RpZFtsE/s1600/blog+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0JVV7DWbI/AAAAAAAAAdE/hDf9RpZFtsE/s320/blog+001.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My trip down “Where did all the time go?” gets replaced as I notice the conversation in the front seat. I’m listening to Marc and Ann talk about golf. Ann took the sport up a few years ago with some of her girlfriends and it’s so nice to hear Ann and Marc connect. Talk about “Where did all the time go?” Here I sit in the back seat with my son asleep on my lap and Ann and her “baby boy with grey hair” chatting it up in the front seat. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0J5uPvcTI/AAAAAAAAAdM/fg6N5ph4reU/s1600/blog+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0J5uPvcTI/AAAAAAAAAdM/fg6N5ph4reU/s320/blog+002.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Life is chaotic and our little boys grow so fast it would make any G-force jealous. This never-ending car ride from hell has turned into a captive mother-son bonding time that truly is priceless. Life is what you make it. It really is up to you how you choose to make the most out of your life. You can choose to resent time, your wrinkles, and bad flight schedules or you can choose to embrace all life has to offer. Mind you, life will make you crazy if you let it or it can make a captive audience a wonderful memory. The choice is always up to you, make it worth it.<br />
<br />
...and somehow I think our angel co-pilot had something to do with this… <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0KhmS31gI/AAAAAAAAAdU/SVwscbr38iY/s1600/blog+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/TB0KhmS31gI/AAAAAAAAAdU/SVwscbr38iY/s320/blog+003.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Seriously though, next time I’m flying.Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-10562498529851318842010-05-18T22:14:00.004-04:002010-05-19T23:04:29.696-04:00Everything I DoI’m sure you’re not surprised to know I am writing this from seat 11C, non-stop flight from NYC to Los Angeles, California. <br />
<br />
Where am I off to this time? <br />
<br />
I have a Beyond Breathing book signing and a Great Strides walk in Huntington Beach, a Cystic Fibrosis fundraising event in Hollywood called “California Wine Masters,” and a few much anticipated dinners with very special west coast friends.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_Mq1XRU4_I/AAAAAAAAAbs/FfeSrZrc0GA/s1600/LA+2010+064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_Mq1XRU4_I/AAAAAAAAAbs/FfeSrZrc0GA/s320/LA+2010+064.JPG" /></a></div><br />
By now you know that I’ll do anything and everything for CF because both my kids, Eric and Jena, were born with the horrible genetic disease. I am sure you are also convinced that I am determined to make CF stand for Cure Found.<br />
<br />
So while Marc is sleeping, I turn on the laptop, hit the shuffle on my iPod and begin my 5 hour and 18 minute flight out west. The first of my 373 songs that plays is “Everything I Do” by Bryan Adams and my writing begins. I’m smiling as I look out the window into the clouds. The universe has my undivided attention. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_MsHmSDzvI/AAAAAAAAAb0/gSEHt_3t5Ys/s1600/airplane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_MsHmSDzvI/AAAAAAAAAb0/gSEHt_3t5Ys/s320/airplane.jpg" /></a></div><br />
This song has a story, this flight is long and my laptop is fully charged; my blog begins. <br />
<br />
The lyrics I hear are: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i> There's no love - like your love <br />
And no other - could give more love <br />
There's nowhere - unless you're there <br />
All the time - all the way <br />
<br />
Oh - you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for <br />
I can't help it - there's nothin' I want more <br />
I would fight for you - I'd lie for you <br />
Walk the wire for you - yeah I'd die for you <br />
<br />
Ya know it's true <br />
Everything I do - I do it for you </i> </div><br />
Romantic if it were about Marc, but it’s not. “Our song” is <i><b>I.O.U </b></i>by Lee Greenwood. That my friends is a whole other story where I’m sure I'd joke and tell you how Marc's been paying for marrying me 20 years ago.<br />
<br />
Right now, THIS song is a love story about me and Eric. Mother and son. Unbreakable bond...stretch marks and all.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_SmkFZQnUI/AAAAAAAAAc0/pLy2gDWq6FI/s1600/me+n+eric.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_SmkFZQnUI/AAAAAAAAAc0/pLy2gDWq6FI/s320/me+n+eric.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
When Eric was born back in July 1991, "Everything I Do" was the number one song. You couldn’t escape hearing it at every wedding, every high school prom, and of course it was incessantly playing on every radio station in the country. Oddly enough, the place I heard it the most was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Westchester Medical Center.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
It was Eric’s first home for his first week of life. As a 22 year old mom, I would hold Eric so very carefully as he was swaddled in hospital blankets with wires attached to his tiny body. As I rocked him and stared at my new baby boy, I listened to the lyrics and cried. He meant the world to me and he redefined my definition of true love. As a young mom, I was so scared what was ahead of me. All I was told was that Eric had CF, a genetic disease that no cure and his median life expectancy was 19. At that moment I knew that everything I would do, I would do it for Eric. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_NAxeXM7CI/AAAAAAAAAcs/1i0AsG5OnAA/s1600/nicu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_NAxeXM7CI/AAAAAAAAAcs/1i0AsG5OnAA/s320/nicu.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Flash forward 18+ years…Eric was discharged from the hospital on March 11, 2010 from a pretty bad flare up with his lungs due to CF. As we drove home in my car listening to the radio guess what song came on? <br />
<br />
Yup.<br />
Boy, you’re a smart cookie.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M1TQVQlfI/AAAAAAAAAb8/Q1BmwGKipwk/s1600/One-Smart-Cookie-Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M1TQVQlfI/AAAAAAAAAb8/Q1BmwGKipwk/s320/One-Smart-Cookie-Image.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
The song hit me pretty hard. I started crying and had to pull over to let Eric drive. I realized that it wasn’t the lyrics to the song that got me but the promise I made to him 18 years ago in the NICU. Whether I said it out loud to anyone or not, I really don’t know, but I do know that choosing to be a stay at home mom for 17 years, attending CF fundraisers, and chairing local and national CF committees, everything I have ever done with meaning and purpose in my life was because I was a mom to Eric and Jena.<br />
<br />
When Jena fired me and left this world on December 4, 2006, my fight for CF still continued. <br />
<br />
CF is the reason for my heartache and is the force that drives me to make a difference in the lives of those who fight to live. CF has integrated into all aspects of my life. In fact, there hasn’t been a vacation I haven’t gone to that CF wasn’t somehow figured into the mix. CF is everywhere and in everything I do. Sometimes it feels empowering when I am part of an event where we’ve raised a ton of money for research and sometimes it's the source of my misery. <br />
<br />
Before I left the house today, I checked my Facebook account and realized I was down yet another friend…crap. That makes two so far this month. Both Facebook friends had cystic fibrosis. Both Facebook friends lost their battle to CF this month...crap. This month ironically is national CF awareness month. Not exactly the way to create CF awareness. This is why I have laser-like focus to do everything I can to cure this hideous disease. I do it for Jena. I do it for Eric. I do it for Emily and Mike.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M2ngDxIiI/AAAAAAAAAcE/4CnNib7KXkQ/s1600/cure_cystic_fibrosis_button-p145276477869685274t5sj_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M2ngDxIiI/AAAAAAAAAcE/4CnNib7KXkQ/s320/cure_cystic_fibrosis_button-p145276477869685274t5sj_400.jpg" /></a><br />
In addition to the worry of having a son with CF, I have been informed by said son that he is going to fly out to San Diego next week. Why? To take a two week road trip back to New York with his long time friend Dean. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M3JxlvOPI/AAAAAAAAAcM/YWafUmxCrtg/s1600/road_trip_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M3JxlvOPI/AAAAAAAAAcM/YWafUmxCrtg/s320/road_trip_logo.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Great. <br />
<br />
Just great.<br />
<br />
Where is that sarcasm font when you need it?<br />
<br />
So, two 19 year old boys will be traveling cross country, living large, experiencing all the adventures life has to offer, with absolutely no supervision-whatsoever. <br />
<br />
Breathe.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M4_-lehNI/AAAAAAAAAcU/Jl-xAbz7M7k/s1600/152_282_hyperventilation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M4_-lehNI/AAAAAAAAAcU/Jl-xAbz7M7k/s320/152_282_hyperventilation.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Marc and I raised him well. We raised our kids to live life to the fullest in spite of CF. I never put him in a bubble to protect him from the world, I never told him there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do and now I have to accept the fact he <i>actually</i> listened to me. But cross country for two weeks? Really?<br />
<br />
I speed dialed Dean’s mother Tara.<br />
<br />
Our conversation went something like this:<br />
<i><br />
“Tara, Hi it’s me. Now listen, I know you’ve been there for me through everything and I owe you the world. Tell me, how do you feel about a little trip cross country? We could fly to San Diego, rent a car, get cool disguises and follow the boys home. What do ya think? You up for it?”</i><br />
<br />
Dean is her youngest of 4 and she knew better.<br />
<i><br />
“They’ll be fine…and you know damn well that if we go, Marc and Tim would be right behind us wondering what the hell their wives were getting into now…so how about I just come over for a glass of wine and we can look at the boys’ baby pictures instead? If it makes you feel better, I’ll bring over some wigs.”</i><br />
<br />
After a moment and a heavy sigh I answered, <i>“Yeah, you’re right."</i><br />
<br />
Before I could grab some wine glasses and open a bottle of Cabernet she was there with a hug, two pairs of dark sunglasses and blonde wigs.<br />
<br />
My point?<br />
<br />
CF sucks and life is an adventure if you’re doing it right. And you should consider yourself damn lucky if you’re surrounded by those who love you when you act crazy.<br />
<br />
So, I’m off to another CF event in California because that’s what I need to do.<br />
<br />
Eric’s going to have the adventure of his life and that’s what he needs to do.<br />
<br />
But between you and me...I'm scared. Eric is the entire world to me. He is what keeps my from going completely and utterly insane.<br />
<br />
Everything I do… I do for him, for Jena and for those fighting CF. I can’t stop fighting against CF and I can’t keep life from Eric.<br />
<br />
So if you see two chicks in a convertible out on Route 66 following two teenage boys…do me a favor and don’t blow our cover...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M7-SDYfmI/AAAAAAAAAck/5abNpe1Hx28/s1600/thelma-andmgm_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S_M7-SDYfmI/AAAAAAAAAck/5abNpe1Hx28/s320/thelma-andmgm_2.jpg" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-4216455071468941672010-05-02T13:43:00.008-04:002010-05-02T14:19:28.263-04:00You LiveYesterday, May 1st, was the most perfect day here in the Hudson Valley. Blue skies, 85 sunny degrees, a slight breeze and the best thing of all was that I had nothing to do for an entire 24 hours. That, in itself, is a fluke of cosmic inertia. I was so ecstatic about the lack of obligations that I just had to post it on my personal Facebook page to make it real.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>My status for the day read as follows:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S921mR9C2EI/AAAAAAAAAbc/HNgJ2Pu2OzU/s1600/fb1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S921mR9C2EI/AAAAAAAAAbc/HNgJ2Pu2OzU/s320/fb1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
As the Type-A personality that I am, I completed the day’s task successfully.<br />
<br />
It was around 1:30am and there we sat; Marc, Eric and his two friends, Ian and Christian, and a very relaxed, tanned and slightly buzzed…<i>moi</i>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S922Khu6brI/AAAAAAAAAbk/QDBOeXG_xBw/s1600/Luau+2005+142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S922Khu6brI/AAAAAAAAAbk/QDBOeXG_xBw/s320/Luau+2005+142.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
We were sitting on our make shift beach-by-the-pool around the fire looking up at the stars and enjoying the night air. It was an absolutely perfect day. Thank you, God.<br />
<br />
Today I woke up around 9:00am to the smell of a hot cup of coffee on the nightstand…nice. I’m thinking “Yes! Repeat of yesterday!”<br />
<br />
My blackberry starts vibrating and I grab it see what's up.<br />
<br />
My heart sinks.<br />
I grab a tissue.<br />
I read the email.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Life to the Fullest</b></i></div><i>Today Emily peacefully went to a place without CF, a place where she can run, surf and breathe without worry.</i><br />
<br />
Emily was 27.<br />
Emily lived in spite of CF.<br />
Emily was “Jena-amazing.”<br />
<br />
I sit in bed, my stomach in knots, tears streaming down my face. <i> When will this end? When will CF stop extinguishing the light of those who fight so hard to live? When will it be easier to breathe?</i><br />
<br />
For a moment I feel slightly relieved knowing Emily isn’t suffering anymore and the torment of CF to her body is now over.<br />
<br />
My thoughts turn to Diane and Steve, Emily’s parents, and the really ugly cry starts. They have officially joined 'The Club' that no parent should belong to. 'The Club' that reads like a bad <i>“You know you joined the club when…”</i><br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life wondering what really matters.<br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life trying to accept that your child has a second date. <br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life stumbling over the question, "How many children do you have?” <br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life with a tissue box by your bed because you go to sleep and wake up with tears.<br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life not knowing how the rest of the pages would have been written.<br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life not knowing to look up to heaven or a tombstone to talk to your child.<br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life being able to laugh and cry at the same time.<br />
<br />
...you live the rest of your life with a hole in your heart that won’t ever heal.<br />
<br />
But you live.<br />
<br />
You live because they fought so hard to live and they cherished each breath they took.<br />
<br />
So you live…even when you don’t want to.<br />
<br />
As Jena told me, “Pain is not a valid reason for stopping.”<br />
<br />
Sometimes you live the perfect day and sometimes you live your worst nightmare.<br />
<br />
Still, you live.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S92zJlUa57I/AAAAAAAAAbE/i-fsxExBEpw/s1600/Emily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S92zJlUa57I/AAAAAAAAAbE/i-fsxExBEpw/s320/Emily.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank you Emily, you showed us all how to live.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We miss you.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048044462578706504.post-29255481321829665052010-04-22T19:07:00.010-04:002010-04-22T20:00:05.039-04:00Far Away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Flighty. <br />
<br />
That's me at times.<br />
<br />
Last night was no exception.<br />
<br />
I was invited by my good friend Donna to attend Dr Oz's posh<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Garden of Good and Evil Gala</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">in NYC.</div><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DC8gTAwMI/AAAAAAAAAZw/-8DArzUKSqA/s1600/droz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DC8gTAwMI/AAAAAAAAAZw/-8DArzUKSqA/s320/droz.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Though very excited at the possibility of meeting Dr Oz and his beautiful wife, Lisa, I did question which side of the room they were going to seat me, good or evil?<br />
<br />
Hmmm?<br />
<br />
While contemplating the fundamental dilemma, I found my way to an ornate and beautifully decorated table filled with fruits, chocolates, flowers, and feathers. In less than two seconds, I had rifled through the table centerpiece and absconded with all the chocolates and effortlessly managed to never even touch the fruit...At this point I’m thinking evil side, right? <br />
<br />
The event was fabulous.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DEjCFhjAI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/DE1YtWxpdbs/s1600/Dr+Oz+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DEjCFhjAI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/DE1YtWxpdbs/s320/Dr+Oz+012.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Dr Oz was as endearing as one would assume and the wine flowed all night. Credit to the endless flow belongs to my new BFF Barry who cajoled our server into granting us two bottomless wine glasses. <br />
<br />
Close to midnight I air-kissed a few new gala buddies “adieu” and heaved the huge goodie bag over my shoulder. Donna plucked a white rose and a white feather from our centerpiece and handed them to me. <br />
<br />
“Here, take this” she said. <br />
<br />
I was wondering how I was going to squeeze the items into my already overflowing stash. I looked back at her, perplexed. <br />
<br />
“For Jena…” she said “her presence is so strong here tonight and I want you to take this to her.” <br />
<br />
Now Donna knows how much I abhor going to the cemetery. I just can’t meld the fact that Jena’s spirit still lives larger than life, yet her physical body is buried 6 feet beneath the earth. That concept doesn’t gel for me. It never will. <br />
<br />
Still, I took the rose and feather and promised to give it to my mother-in-law who religiously “visits” Jena. <br />
<br />
I gave Donna a tight hug and kissed and thanked her for such a wonderful and memorable evening. <br />
<br />
This morning came way too early and my head was hurting. I speculated Barry’s condition to be the same as I caught a glance at the enormous goodie bag overflowing with treats, lotions and assorted samples of really cool products I would never buy. Then I see the rose and feather.<br />
<br />
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Sigh. <br />
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Listening to my iPod on low, I get ready for work. My blackberry buzzes and it’s an email from Donna saying she had a blast last night and that she had Jena on her mind this morning. The email is very touching and my eyes well up.<br />
<br />
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Crap.<br />
Now I have to re-do my make-up…again.<br />
<br />
I put the phone down, grab a tissue and notice the song playing in the background. It’s Nickelback’s “<i>Far Away</i>”<br />
It’s one of my “Jena songs.” <br />
The lyrics I hear are:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>“...Keep breathing 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore </i><br />
<i> Believe it</i><br />
<i>Hold on to me and never let me go...” </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I wash my face and realize it’s going to be a “natural” make-up free day...like it or not. <br />
<br />
I clutch the rose and the feather, swipe my car keys and take a detour to work, via the cemetery. I’ve been there twice and both times were for reasons that I couldn’t explain.<br />
<br />
Within minutes, I pull into Jena’s cemetery, find her section and shut my car off. My tears haven’t stopped streaming since reading Donna’s email and they roll faster the closer I get to where “Jena” is. A few more steps and then I can clearly read her name etched in stone and I lose it completely.<br />
<br />
This is why I don’t come here, yet for the third time in 3 years, here I stand not knowing why. <br />
<br />
I look around and see “gifts” all around her tombstone. I see pennies, cards, and bubbles. I see remnants from the Junior Prom. Mike and the Milton Girls must have stopped by to make sure Jena was a part of their evening. They certainly are very special friends who'll never forget to include Jena in their lives and I love them for that. <br />
<br />
I sit on the grass, in my suit, and I am just about to place the rose and feather among the other gifts when I am startled by my car radio that suddenly starts blaring.<br />
<br />
I’ll give you one guess as to what song is playing….<br />
...and one guess what the lyrics are.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“Keep breathing 'cause I'm not leaving you anymore </i><br />
<i> Believe it </i><br />
<i>Hold on to me and never let me go” </i></div><br />
I look up at the bright blue sky as see a bird fly above me. <br />
I’m laughing and I’m crying. <br />
I’m still holding the rose and feather and I start talking, out loud, to Jena <br />
<br />
“Hey there Baby Girl, I’ll keep breathing as long as you never let me go, okay?”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DJDaIjJbI/AAAAAAAAAaY/rFxLZZvpC6I/s1600/jenaoz+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iKYL03sKdb4/S9DJDaIjJbI/AAAAAAAAAaY/rFxLZZvpC6I/s320/jenaoz+003.JPG" /></a></div>Margaretehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02702243034688746538noreply@blogger.com6