First Quarter Updates

1. The landlord for the new apartment called today and told me that the apartment is mine if I want it. This is AWESOME on so many levels I can't even stand it. I will sign the lease in a week.

2. Thanks to my 2011 savings plan, this is the first time I've signed a lease and not had to borrow money from my parents for the deposit. I feel so grown up!

3. I already bought a couch. It looks like this and it pulls out into a really comfy bed. This means that guests can stay in a room that isn't mine when they come to visit. Yay!

4. Work is still crazy.

5. I get to see my parents again next weekend! Two weekends in one month - and both sightings in Boston. How lucky am I?

6. The Decemberists "This is Why We Fight" video hits the internet tomorrow. This makes me happy.

7. In the meantime, I've been obsessed with this song, ever since Seth and Emi sang it for me a few weeks ago. Of course, I prefer their father/daughter acoustic version, but until they record it as a single, the original will do.

8. I re-read this post, and am pleased to report to you that I have checked off all of my "other goals" - I got my LICSW, took a swing dance class, and miraculously overcame the sickness from hell that lasted for nearly the entire first quarter of 2011.


So there we are, mid-April in 2011.

Thanks

I'm not sure my list has changed much since last year.

I remain most thankful for family. I have learned about love, laughter, patience, impatience, challenge, success, and celebration from my immediate and extended family members. I continue to enjoy expanding on those life lessons every time we're together.

I am thankful for friends - camp friends, college friends, grad school friends, high school friends, work friends, friends I met while living abroad, and friends I met while living out west. Not a day goes by that I am not inspired by what they are all doing, or appreciative of the fact that we've been able to maintain our friendships.

I'm thankful for my job and the work it allows me to do each day. It continues to be an honor and a pleasure to do the work I do every day and I can't imagine my life without this work in it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Thankful

Today, I am thankful for much in my life. I am thankful for family. For my dad who stocks the fridge with blueberry seltzer before I come home, for my mom who plays never-ending games of Lexulous with me online and who makes me laugh as she dotes on the dogs, and for my sister and her fiance who are including me in their wedding planning (and the actual wedding). I don't see them nearly enough and being home always reminds me of that.

I'm thankful for extended family - my grandmother who shows more strength and humor with each passing year, and for aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered throughout the US, many who share that same strength and humor.

I'm thankful for my friends near and far - my SISO who is always up for anything, my SF, MA and ME friends, my friends whose families have expanded to include little people, for my social work friends who provide such good support and understanding that people not in the field can't always provide.

And I am thankful for my job - a job that I love, even when it makes me cry. I am honored every day to be part of these families' lives and to do the work I do.

I am grateful every day, but today I share my gratitude publicly.

Slow Times

There are 27 beds on my unit, and usually we have around 20 that are filled. Last week we had numbers in the mid-teens, and today we had 12. Tomorrow, four of those kiddos are going home or back to the hospitals from which they came, which means that if we have no admissions overnight, we'll be down to eight.

So what I'm saying is things are a little slow at work. 

Things have also been slow outside of work. The cold that I got almost two weeks ago kept me in bed for the first weekend I had it, and then kept me from making social plans that following week so that I could get home and go to bed. Just as the sickness was leaving, it came back for Round II: The Sinus Version, so I've been fighting that for the past few days. 

Highlights of this mostly-uneventful past few weeks include:

- Learning to tie a bow tie. My dad, my uncle, my cousin and I all stood around the computer screen, watching multiple videos on how to tie a bow tie and then practicing on ourselves and each other. My mom and aunt watched with amusement. 

- Cleaning my room. A real top-to-bottom cleaning that included mopping the floor. It makes me happy to come home to a clean room. A simple, inexpensive gift to myself.

- Scheduling a second date. Yes, Good First Date Guy (GFDG) will be making a second appearance in this fair city in the later part of this week for date #2. 

As you can see, there's a reason I haven't posted much lately. Hopefully things will perk up soon. 

It's a Small, Small World

Today I was talking about going home to Smalltown, ME for Christmas, and a nurse overheard the conversation and said, "Are you from Maine?"

"Yes," I said, "I am."

  "Where?"

"Smalltown?" I responded, wondering if she knew of it.

She paused and stared at me.

  "What street?"

"Wait - you're from Smalltown too?!" I asked.

  "Yes - what street did you live on?"

"Valley Street."

  "What number?"

"Wait - you're kidding, right? 

  "No - that was the street I grew up on - what number were you at?"

"43."

  "Seriously? My parents' house was 63."

So I described to her where my parents' house is, and she described to me where her parents' house was. But I still didn't have a clear picture of which house, exactly, it was. I asked her if her parents were still there. She told me they had both passed away in the past seven years. She said they had moved away from Smalltown in the mid 1990s, which means my family lived on Valley Street when they were still there. The nurse said she bet my parents probably knew her parents. 

  "My parents are the F's. I'm Meghan F."

"WHAT!?"

  "You knew them?"

Not only did I know who the nurse's parents were, but we went to the same church for a few months. 

And not only did we go to the same church, but we had Easter dinner with them one year. 

And not only THAT (here's the real kicker), but the nurse's parents - my former neighbors - were the grandparents of a guy I went to grade school with when I lived in Smalltown, NH before my family moved to Smalltown, ME.

So not only did the nurse I work with grow up in the same town as I did, she is also the aunt of a classmate of mine from grade school in NH and the daughter of my former neighbors in ME.

Crazy. 

I'm still shaking my head.

Ten Years

The night of December 3rd, 1998, an all-female college a cappella group stood singing in a small dorm room in Vermont. They sang a song called “Heaven” and then stepped out into the hallway. Moments later, one of the girls collapsed for no apparent reason. The energy in the tiny hallway went from joy to panic as the women realized that their friend was in trouble. Hours later, after the young woman had been taken to the hospital and the rest of the group sat waiting in the chapel for word on her condition, the news arrived: she had died.

I was in that a cappella group, and it was my friend Christine who died. And that night changed my life forever.

Tonight marks the 10th anniversary of the night Christine died. It is a reminder to me that each of us has a limited time on this planet, and what we do with that time is what defines us. Christine filled her life with laughter and light. At her memorial service, a friend told a story about going on a road trip with her when her car started making a "ding" noise that could not be silenced. Rather than get annoyed, Christine discovered that Madonna songs had the same beat as the dinging sound, and so the two road trippers happily blasted Madonna the whole way home.

In her life and after her death, Christine taught me the importance of living life with joy and a healthy sense of humor. She also taught me the importance of surrounding myself with people who love and support me and who I can love and support in return. She taught me that as cliche as it might sound, life can be short, and the choices I make every day about how I spend my time and who I spend it with are important.

I know that I would not be where I am today if it weren't for Christine. The hours, days, weeks and months following her death taught me about the incredible support professionals can add to the grief and healing process, and pointed me towards my career in social work. Today I am fortunate to be able to provide support to others going through challenging times, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel Christine's presence in all that I do.

Next week we will share in a celebration of her life with family and friends. But tonight I light a candle and give thanks for Christine and the lasting impact of her short life.

November 30

Today is my parents’ anniversary. Thirty-four years ago they married.

It is also the anniversary of the day my sister joined our family.

I used to joke that I was the only person in our family who didn’t have anything to celebrate on this date, but really nothing could be further from the truth.

Though I was an only child for the first 4 1/2 years of my life, I don’t remember my childhood without my sister in it. She and I had the usual sibling ups and downs over the years, but no matter if we were on opposite sides of the country or opposite sides of the world, we have been there for each other.


And my parents… I can say with confidence that I wouldn’t be here without them (ha ha ha), but I can also say that I wouldn’t be who I am without them. They are kind and thoughtful and smart and funny and compassionate and giving of themselves and I like to think that I’ve learned or inherited many of those qualities from them.

Happy anniversary to my family. I love you.

Together Again

Today my mother returned from her travels and our family was reunited. I have many more thoughts that will come out over the next few days, but for now I'll just say I'm glad to have my whole family together again.

Home

There's something about coming home...

Every time I return to my parent's house, my life slows down. And this is a good thing. I run myself ragged most of the time, and so to have a place to go and enjoy a slower pace of life is a really good thing. 

In years past I have written long blog posts with lists of all that I am thankful for. This year, I am keeping it simple. 

I am, as always, thankful for family and friends, for laughter and hugs. I am thankful for having a job that allows me to give so much of myself to others. I am thankful for the number of amazing people in my life (both old and very young) who give so much meaning to my life every day.

But on this day, this year, I am most thankful for the feelings of love and peace and quiet I get from being home with my family in small-town Maine.

History Repeats Itself

Ten years ago, I had a string of months in which many bad things happened to people I loved. These were my first experiences with tragedy, major medical challenges, and death and they all happened to people I knew well and cared for very much.

A year after that, just before Thanksgiving, a friend of mine from summer camp died. I was just about to head home for the weekend with my college roommate, and received a phone call telling me of this loss. I spent the better part of the weekend in shock and on the phone with camp friends, which apparently gave my college roommate a lot of time to talk with my parents.

Last night, I talked with this college roommate and updated her on all the tragic things that have happened to people I love in the past month. She remembered back to that Thanksgiving nine years ago and told me about a conversation she had with my mother.

My mother, thinking back over my experiences throughout the past year, had said to my roommate something to the effect of, "it's hard to imagine all these bad things happening to people Phoebe knows... but Phoebe just knows so many people." 

I laughed when she told me this, because it's true. And the truth is that I wouldn't trade all the wonderful people I know (tragic situations and all) for anything in the world. And I wouldn't trade being able to be there for the wonderful people I know (tragic situations and all) for anything in the world either. 

Family

I spent the better part of my 4 hour trip from NYC to Boston trying to compose this blog post, but no words can express the sadness, shock, and disbelief that I am feeling after hearing of the death of a relative this past weekend.

I debated posting about this because it feels like a more private thing than I typically like to share on this public blog, and I didn't want to put it up for comment. But I can't think of anything but this right now, and it feels too significant to not write about.

I hadn't seen this cousin in many years due to the great geographic distance between us, and we weren't really in touch because our lives had taken us in different directions. But we were relatives, so there was a bond and a love that was there even when communication was not. I always got updates on her life from her family members and would think back fondly to time spent together at summer camp and family reunions.

I always thought she was so cool because she was a few years older than I was, and I felt so proud when she'd let me hang out with her. We once spent the better part of an afternoon at one of our family reunions riding the elevator and seeing if we could get through the chorus of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" before the doors opened. The challenge was that we could only sing when no one else was in the elevator, and we never knew when the elevator was going to stop to pick up new passengers (it was a rather fancy resort we were at, so we definitely couldn't have kept singing with other people in there with us). It sounds like a ridiculous game, and it probably was, but it kept us entertained for a long stretch of time.

I spent the afternoon yesterday with another cousin in NYC and it was she who received the news first. Silently, we made our way back to her place, where we proceeded to make calls to our parents to get more information. And as the evening wore on, there were many moments I found myself grateful to be in the presence of a family member who shared my family history.

I received an email today from a close family member that both brought me to tears and comforted me with its simple message:

Sometimes when we experience terrible tragedies, there is goodness that appears through acts of kindness... Stick together and love each other.

So let this be a reminder to all of you out there to hold your children, spouses, partners, siblings, parents, and friends extra close tonight. Make sure they know how much they mean to you and how loved they are. And make sure to love yourselves, too, while you're at it.

Let your love cover me

Like a pair of angel wings

You are my family

You are my family

-Dar Williams

Rainy Day in Maine

I am home in small-town Maine visiting family this weekend and am currently typing this from my sister's house. I would have been writing this from my parent's house - probably from the comfort of a big cushy chair in the living room, perhaps under a blanket - but their phone/internet went down today, and so my sister and her fiance graciously offered me their place to type so that I don't fail my NaBloPoMo goal of posting every day.

I spent a wonderful night last night celebrating a friend's birthday and catching up with many Portland friends I hadn't seen in months. I left work feeling grumpy and frustrated at the end of a long week, and I left Portland this morning feeling refreshed and energized and so grateful for the friends I have there.

Now I'm having a family day and looking forward to the community theater production of The Full Monty tonight. 

Not an exciting post, but a post nonetheless, and I have not fallen behind in my daily blogging.

No Words

I thought perhaps if I slept on it, I'd have words to write this morning, but I'm still at a loss.

Yesterday two of my dearest friends in the world became parents of a little baby girl, and I became an honorary Aunt. I am beside myself with happiness for this new family and apparently my happiness leaves me speechless.

Welcome to the world, Baby M.

Glass Half-Full

It is only appropriate after my last post about my mother finding a matchmaker to help me get a date that I get a call from my sister telling me she is engaged.

Now let me first just say for the record that I am absolutely excited for her and I love her and I love her fiance and she deserves all the happiness that will come to her with this wonderful man.

And yet... she's my little sister. And in less than 6 months she has purchased a house and gotten engaged. I think I'm starting to understand a little bit how it must feel to be a younger sibling, watching your older sibling go through all the important life milestones first and being happy and also jealous at the same time.

I'm not a glass-half-empty kind of person by nature. I'm really happy with where my life is right now and I'm not the type to feel sorry for myself about being single. And yet there's a piece of me that is definitely getting a little down that I haven't yet found someone with whom I can spend my life.

A few years ago, my standard line was, "I know there is someone out there and I'm not worried - I'm sure we'll find each other." I still think that today, but I have to admit I've now considered that it might not happen. DON'T WORRY reader friends - I haven't considered it too seriously. I'm definitely not giving up. But the fact that I've admitted to myself that this whole "finding a life partner" thing might be a little harder than all my coupled friends make it look is noteworthy, I think.

I had a friend who told me recently that she had been thinking about all her single friends and could say why all of them were single... except me. Now of course she could have been saying that to be nice, but I like to think she meant it. I definitely have single friends who are single for good reason (and often don't know that reason), and I also have single friends who are absolutely relationship-ready, but just can't seem to find that person.

I've been "relationship-ready" for a while now. It didn't come easy - there was a lot of soul-searching through reflection, conversation, bad dates, and bad poetry before I figured out who I was and what I wanted. And now I know exactly what I want and unlike the me of years past, I'm not willing to settle for less.

But is that really a bad thing? I like that I'm clear about what I want. I like that I know what I'm worth and that I know (after some memorable experiences) I don't have to or want to settle for less. I believe that I can have funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person.

Most importantly, I still believe I can find that person.

So this is a public pep-talk, I guess. A reminder to myself that despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I will most likely not end up an old maid. (And a reminder to all of you out there who are reading this and who are in relationships that the LAST thing I want to hear is any variation on the popular, "Yeah, it's tough out there, but you'll find someone!")

The fact of the matter is that though I haven't found someone for myself yet, I can still be really excited and happy for the other people in my life who have. And it's not like I don't get to have some fun in the process too - fun weddings to attend, the honor of officiating and/or being the maid of honor in a few, and now the baby showers (oh, the baby showers!).

There are times that I feel that I am overflowing with happiness for others. But it is shared happiness, and it is mine just as much as it is theirs. I feel so lucky to share in the lives of so many incredible people. And though I haven't found funny and kind and intelligent and independent and adventurous and mellow and sexy and an understanding of the rules of basic grammar all in one person just yet, my friends encompass all of those qualities and can fill that role in the meantime.

So for now, I continue to celebrate life milestones with others, and to trust that the happiness of finding a partner-in-crime-for-life will come to me to.

It Has Come to This

My parents just returned from a well-deserved trip to Costa Rica. They were celebrating my mom's retirement, and also just taking some time away from their busy lives (yes, retired people can be busy too!). When they returned, they told me about the flowers and wildlife they saw, and the adventures they had (Dad on a zip line!). But there was one thing they forgot about... until tonight.

Tonight my mom called to catch up, and as we were talking, she said, "Oh - I almost forgot to tell you about this..." Well, it turns out that she befriended a woman on the trip who, in addition to her day job, also likes to do some matchmaking. I'm not sure if this factoid came up before or after my mother mentioned that she had an eligible daughter, but it came up. And the matchmaker lady shared that the son of a friend lives in Boston and is a good catch and perhaps she could set us up.

Now for those of you who don't know my mother, let me just say that she's not the type to make suggestions about how I should go about living my life (mostly because she learned early on that I rarely took her advice on such matters). She is entirely non-obtrusive, and also entirely supportive, and she is definitely not the type to be pressuring me to get married or to give her grandchildren.

So there I was on the phone with my mother, thinking, "Really? It has come to this?" and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

But, like a true soon-to-be-entering-her-4th-decade-on-this-earth single female, I agreed and by day's end, there was an email cc-ed to me from my mother to her matchmaker friend, giving her the go-ahead to proceed with the matchmaking.

Why I'm Going to Hell

(aka: Why I Can’t Go to the Congregational Church in My Hometown for a Christmas Eve Service Ever Again)

When I was growing up, my family belonged to a church. It was a Congregational Church, and we went every Sunday. Looking back, I remember it more for the sense of community it gave me for any Biblical learning that took place.

When my family moved to Maine, my parents looked to find a church right away in an effort to get us better connected to our new community. We started at the Congregational Church, but found that the ministers weren’t as engaging as we’d like. We tried the Unitarian Universalist Church, but felt it wasn’t as denominational as we’d like. Then we tried the Methodist Church, and felt we had found a winner. The Minister was engaging and gave interesting sermons (even for those of us who were in 7th and 3rd grade) and the music was wonderful.

People greeted us with smiles and welcomed us to the church that first week... and the next week… and every week after that for 6 months. And finally we decided that we weren’t going to find a new church that gave us the same sense of community and belonging as our old church, and we stopped going. This worked out well for my sister and me, as we weren’t too keen on getting dressed up on Sundays to go sit in church and listen to someone talk (even if he was good at it). Even though we no longer attended church regularly, we still went on Easter and Christmas Eve. However, when the minister at the Methodist Church moved away we lost the very weak ties we had to that church, and realized we might need to shop around for another church for Christmas Eve services.

We ended up at the Congregationalist Church again, and found the service to be decent. The minister was the father of a schoolmate of mine, and there were always a few highlights such as the “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” sung by the youth choir (song that is linked to is an approximation of the arrangement actually sung by the choir – not quite the same tune, but definitely in the same spirit) and the singing of “Silent Night” by candlelight at the end.

Over time, however, the Christmas Eve service went from decent to bad. It was a gradual process – so gradual that we didn’t notice it right away. It began with a few obscure Christmas songs being added into the service. Now I’m all for introducing the congregation to new songs, but I believe that at a Christmas Eve service, people want to belt out their favorite hymns, and not new ones. The musical director at this church apparently feels differently and likes to use the Christmas Eve service as an opportunity to introduce new and never-before-heard-by-anyone-in-the-congregation tunes.

The congregation always dutifully trudges through whatever obscure song has been chosen, while the choir sings loudly in an effort to help us find our way. That method worked ok for a few years, but the choir has shrunk over time, and is now down to 13 people. Additionally, the youth choir is no longer in existence, so the singing of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” is now done by the “Youth Choir Alumni,” so depending on the year, this can either be impressive, or… not.

Which brings us to tonight…

On our way to the Congregational Church, we joked about finding a new church for Christmas Eve service, because the obscure musical selections had gotten so painful, so I guess I was primed for a breakdown before I even knew it.

We arrived at church a little later than we usually do, and ended up in the back row. We sat down and looked through the program and found the youth alumni choir and some Christmas classics such as “O Come All Ye Faithful” “O Little Town of Bethlehem” “Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night.”

…And then there were the not-so-classic tunes such as “Watcher, Tell Us of the Night” “Jesus, Our Brother, Strong and Good” and (I am not making this up) “Sheep Fast Asleep (Japanese carol sung in English).”

Well, we got through the Processional and the Invocation with no trouble, but this is where the wheels began to come loose. The choir (made up, I remind you, of 13 people) sang an anthem that either needed to be sung by many more people or by people who had confidence in their singing skills, because there were a good many points in time when the piece was actually painful to listen to.

The First Lesson was fine, followed by our first obscure hymn “Watcher, Tell Us of the Night” which the congregation managed to plod through acceptably. The Second Lesson was also fine, followed by the choir singing an anthem that was actually almost sweet. The Third Lesson was fine as well, but it was followed by the obscure “Japanese carol sung in English” and that, dear readers, is where I began to lose it.

It started with the music when I went to look in my hymnal and found I couldn’t read the words. My dad saw my confusion and pointed to the bottom two lines, which were written in English. I giggled, then got ready to sing. Except when it came time to sing, the congregation just couldn’t do it. There was a lot of soft humming and words kind of coming out, and I’m sure everyone really was trying, but no one seemed to be able to get the tune, and the choir that was only 13-strong couldn’t sing loud enough to lead us (or weren’t all that confident in their ability to sing the song either). And so despite a fine effort to keep singing, I began to laugh. Not an out loud laugh of course, but the quiet, to-yourself kind.

Except that everyone knows that keeping a laugh in only makes it bigger and stronger, and no matter how much I tried to breathe slowly and contain my laughter, it just kept coming. By the time the second verse began (thank goodness for everyone involved that there were only two verses), I was shaking in my seat from my laughter and because she was sitting next to me, watching me struggle to contain myself, my mother had joined me.

I was crying because I was laughing so hard, and leaned over and asked my mother for a tissue. She was also bent in half laughing, but managed to find a pile of tissues in her pocket. However, when she pulled them out, it became clear that they had changed consistency since they were originally put in that pocket. You see, while tissues that have recently been placed in a pocket come out in one piece when grabbed, tissues that have sat in a pocket for a time actually crumble when removed. Which, of course, is what happened when my mother reached for her tissue supply. So instead of handing me a tissue, she handed me multiple shredded pieces of a few tissues.

Which, of course, got us laughing even harder. Which, of course, got us crying even harder. And all the while, Dad on one end next to me, and my sister on the other end next to my mom dutifully struggled through “Sheep Fast Asleep.”

The above story was embarrassing enough, kind readers. Though we didn’t have people sitting behind us to see our hysterics, we did have the ushers standing in the back and they were sure to have seen us. I pulled myself together by the end of the song, but the story does not end there.

Of course it doesn’t.

Because it was in the Fourth Lesson that something that might not have been funny if I hadn’t already been on the edge, became hysterical. The Fourth Lesson is Luke 2:13-14 “Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests’”

Well, that’s what the Fourth Lesson would have sounded like if the minister hadn’t coughed when he got to the “Glory to God…” part. He stopped and cleared his throat and tried again. Same cough, same place. He excused himself and cleared his throat and took a drink of water and this, gentle readers, is when you learn why it is that I am going to hell because when this minister was struggling to read a passage from the BIBLE – the Holy Book – and he kept coughing at the exact same place over and over again, I laughed.

Yes, I laughed. It was a quick, loud burst of noise, which I immediately attempted to cover with a few coughs, but I didn’t fool anyone. I re-focused and tried to calm myself, but (you can’t make this stuff up) it happened AGAIN. Third try – same cough, same place. I was doubled over, shaking, clutching a crumbled, useless tissue to my face, but I did find some comfort in hearing the rest of the congregation let out a few nervous giggles.

So the Minister turned the Fourth Lesson over to the Associate Minister, who managed to read the passage with no coughing interruptions. We got through the Fifth and Sixth Lessons and their Carols and Anthems and were back on track to finish the service with no more losses of focus, until The Offertory Anthem, as sung by – you guessed it – the Youth Choir Alumni.

Last year, there were at least 8-10 young adults who got up to sing, but tonight there were just 6. And after the first section where there are many high notes and long phrases, it was clear that no one had practiced this song since they last sang it a year ago, and they knew it. And so while four of them diligently sang on, two of them worked hard to sing while suppressing giggles. Which of course made me lose it again.

I once again pulled myself together for the Doxology, and then my favorite part – the lighting of the candles. The church lights get turned down and everyone stays seated and holds a lit candle in front of them. As the notes from “Silent Night” faded away, we listened to the prayer and benediction, and then the congregation stood up to sing the final hymn (“It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”). I had managed to quiet my laughter at this point, finding some calm by focusing on the beauty of the familiar songs I was singing, so I wasn’t prepared when I heard my sister whisper to my mom, “Mom – Wait! We’ve still got a song to sing!” and turned to see my mom putting on her jacket and getting ready to leave instead of standing to sing the final hymn.

Again, a fit of giggles. Again, I got it together to sing the hymn. The organist began the Postlude and I have never seen people leave a church so quickly as we did. It was very nearly a run to the car, and when we got in it, we collapsed into laughter. Yes, it was embarrassing to have reduced to a pile of laughter and tears in the middle of a Christmas Eve service, but there was something to pure and so joyful about that emotion - and about sharing that moment with my family - that I don't regret it. Not one bit.

All the same, we think perhaps it might be a good idea for us to try a Christmas Eve service at another church next year.

Thanks. (again)

I was making a list in my head yesterday as I drove up to Maine of things I wanted to remember to write about in this post, but after a day of cooking and eating and playing one of the longest games of Phase 10 ever, I can barely remember one. I wrote a fairly comprehensive post last year and after reading it just now, I am at a loss as to how to say thanks this year better than I did back then.

Nonetheless, here is my Thanksgiving post. Not nearly as comprehensive or well-written as last year, but just as heart-felt.

This year, I am thankful for:

- Family. All of 'em. The ones who raised me, the one who grew up beside me, the ones who saw me through all of my awkward phases and loved me just the same...

- My grandmother moving to Maine, because I get to see her almost every month now instead of every few years. Not only do I see her, but I get to hear stories about her life that I might never have heard otherwise - stories about how she and my grandfather got together, and about her time living in Boston when she was in her early 20s, and so many other fun things. We get to go on lunch dates and play canasta and we laugh a lot. And I think it means just as much to her to get to know me as an adult as it does to me to get to know her on a different level now too.

- Friends near and friends far. Friends with whom I have entrusted secrets and fears and who have entrusted me with the same. Friends who open their doors to me whenever I can visit. Friends who send random email forwards that I hate getting, but kind of like because I know it means that somebody out there was thinking of me for a second. Friends who are popping out babies left and right and who are letting me share in their joy and excitement. Friends who call me out of the blue just to say hi.

Some of you know and some do not that this was a tough fall for me on many levels. The combination of school, internship, work, and life that I was balancing overwhelmed me and there were times when I felt lost. Whether you knew that or not, the amount of support I received from many of you through emails and phone calls and hang-out time and text messages and comments on this here blog was hugely significant to me.

Thank you all for blessing me with your humor and your kindness and your listening ears and your love. I am lucky to know so many great people and I'm so very thankful to have you in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving 2007.

Weekend Highlights

So I went up to Maine this weekend to celebrate my Grandmother's 90th birthday. That in itself was a highlight. Also a highlight was my uncle asking my grandmother if she had found a use of a "For Rent" sign she had purchased a month or so ago when they had been shopping together.

"I'm trying to figure out whose door to stick it on," she answered (she lives in an independent living facility). Brilliant. My 90-year-old, prankster grandmother. I love it.

I also got in a beach walk, which was really special, and I managed to fight off some sort of mean-feeling sickness with sheer determination, Emergen-C, and Zicam. So I'm feeling particularly proud of myself for that.

Oh yeah - and watching NESN's coverage of the Friday night game - or more specifically, watching NESN's coverage of after the Friday night game, when they were waiting on the results of the Yankees/Orioles game and they couldn't show the game live, so they showed the fans who had stayed in Fenway watching it on the jumbo-tron, and then gave commentary on their reactions, and then 10 seconds later would show the "instant replay" of what the fans had been reacting to. A funny way to watch a game, but totally worth it in the end.

In other news, my fantasy football team kinda sucks. It's funny, though, because it really isn't a bad team - it's just that I keep going up against teams that have a couple players who have out-of-this-world weeks and end up scoring rediculous points. I'm 0-4 and starting to get depressed. Thank goodness the actual, in-the-flesh football team I root for is 4-0.

Highlight of the week so far: My professor last night telling us that if any of us were able to get tickets to any of the playoff games, that we should absolutely, without question, skip class.