Facie’s Ramblings

Lately, I feel as if time is flying by. Going at warp speed. Days, weeks, sometimes even months seem to come and go. I am reminded of what an acquaintance said to me at a PSU event a couple of years ago about having a child: "The first 12 years don't go so fast. But the next 12 years fly by." Those were not his exact words, and I don't recall the number of years he was referring to. But his point was that once your kid is a teen (or thereabouts), watch out. I have really noticed it the past year. I sometimes look at my kid, who is now almost 5'3" and in 7th grade, and I wonder how she became this preteen. Where is the little girl who begged me to play Barbies and babies with her all the time? Where is the girl whom I had to check her homework every night? Where is the girl that I had to help dress, give a bath to, brush her hair, etc. Where is my little preschooler who would say, "This is my best friend mommy"? Now, I apparently know next to not...

Every year around this time I write a 9/11 post. This year will be no different. Yet in some ways it is different. As the years pass, I think about it less and less. It used to weigh on my heart as the anniversary was a few weeks away. But this year, I don't think I thought about until it was about a week away.  Although I don't think time heals all wounds, time can certainly lessen the memories and the pain. But as I watched streaming video of the remembrance ceremony today, I saw just how raw and painful this day is for those who lost loved ones during that relatively short amount of time. My heart ached for the people whose voices cracked as they read the names of their loved ones. My eyes welled up with tears, particularly as I watched and heard young people say the names of their relatives and most definitely when someone had lost a parent or child. Every year I allow myself to be somber and reflective. I always watch a few 9/11 programs; my favorite is "102 Minutes T...

I am super tired after my first full workweek since just before my kid was born. (Actually, I think I had a five-day sub stint last year, but this is different.) So how did it go? I think pretty well. :-) Here are some random observations before I head to bed: The work is pretty interesting overall. The teacher in me is fascinated and challenged by the units/lessons I am reviewing, and the editor/proofreader in me is full speed ahead finding typos, wording issues, and layout inconsistencies. I am happy to say that one of the woman I have been working with told me she was really impressed with all the things I questioned/found. It is nice to be complimented during the first couple of days. The people are really nice and friendly. I have not detected any egos, just people who work together and want to help one another (and me). As I was sitting with my coworkers at lunch today, I mostly felt as if I had worked there for a long time. (I also discovered I do not care much for pan-f...

I like Daylight Saving Time just as much as the next person. It is nice that it is still a little light out at almost 7:30 p.m. And the time change also means I can stay at my mom's later during our biweekly visits as I now get to have at least some daylight to more easily spot those deer and other critters. But getting up the first work/school day of DST is no picnic. Hubby and I argued about this, this morning. He insisted whatever effects there are/were should have occurred on Sunday, the first morning of DST. I disagreed because I woke up Sunday when I woke up; I paid no attention to the clock. I got about eight hours of sleep, which is what I usually get on the weekends (assuming I am not beset with insomnia), so my body had no idea an hour disappeared. In fact, I felt "normal" all day Sunday, quite happy, actually, because it was sunny and in the mid 60s. The only downside of DST that day was that I forgot to change my car clock, so after being out with my mom and...

I wish I could subscribe to the quality, not quantity theory, but for whatever reason, I don't. I'd like to blame it on Catholic guilt, because that is convenient. I could also blame it on some people who make me feel guilty, but I suppose I can choose not to feel guilty. But there are few people who make me feel as guilty as I make myself at times. Regardless of whose "fault" it is, I would be nice and healthy if I could care more about what I am doing and living in that moment and care less about counting every single minute and worrying it is not enough. I had a nice Christmas break, and it is not even over yet. I managed to spend a good bit of time with my older brother and his family, which is nice because they live about nine driving hours away. I also got in extra time with my mom, hanging out with her briefly just a week before Christmas, spending two nights a few days later, and then spending time with her and the bro/family the latter part of this week. La...

Someone read this poem at a funeral yesterday. I seem to recall hearing it once before, but I thought it was worth sharing. You can read more about the author as well as her poems here . The Dash I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning...to the end. He noted that first came her date of birth and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the “dash” between those years. For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on earth. And now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own; the cars...the house...the cash, what matters is how we live and love and how we spend our “dash.” So think about this long and hard... are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left, that can still be rearranged. If we could just slow down enough to consider what...

If I were not so lazy, I would have posted some pictures of the summer adventures we have had thus far. But doing so requires that I first download the pictures from my camera, which happens only a few times a year, not to mention I have no idea where the thingy is that connects from my camera to the computer, which allows said downloading (or is it file transferring?) to take place. If I had those pictures on my computer, you could have seen a boat ride, some picnics and get-togethers, birthday parties and a christening, days at the park and nights looking at starts, a trip to Idlewild, and the first day of Steelers training camp (still hope to get the pic up of me and Steely McBeam). Still to come are the community days at the town where I grew up, another afternoon in the Burgh, and Jordan's fifth birthday party. My kid is going to be 5 in just two weeks. How can that be? It seems like just yesterday when I was having contractions at work and my friend Q said it was probably gas...

I felt so smug, so good about finally getting around to writing and mailing various greetings. Instead, I should have just written them in the first place. I found out this evening that Vera, the woman who babysat my brothers and me for most of our childhood, passed away last Saturday. Unfortunately, she will never know I sent her a card wishing her a recovery to her stroke; I am guessing that card probably did not make it to New Mexico in time. My heart is heavy this evening. George Michael wrote a song called "Praying for Time." It came out about the time of the Gulf War. I really liked it; it was one of those songs that made me cry whenever I listened to it. I caught about 10 minutes of American Idol all season, but 5 of those minutes were of GM singing that song. It still made my eyes well up with tears. And that song is going through my head right now. I think the words are especially fitting in today's time. So I will close with those. But know this: I still have h...