#155 He Loves Fridays

Friday has been my favorite day of the week for a long time.

For a while, I thought it was Saturday.  Saturday seems like the perfect candidate for favorite day of the week.  Being sandwiched between a day you can stay up later and another day off from work you would think it's a real winner.*

*Of course, unless you work retail, then none of this applies to you whatsoever.  Been there, done that.

I suppose I love Friday because it gives me something to look forward to.  It's the breath of relief from a hard worked week, and the guarantee of two days to rest.*

*Of course, I write this at an odd time in my life having been unemployed for the last four months.  Pretty much every day is a day of rest.**

**Don't take me seriously.  I have been actually 'working at home' and completing a lot of personal goals, not just sitting around relaxing.***

***I promise.

Fridays should mean a big party.  The week is done, it's time to celebrate.  Sure, maybe I didn't finish everything I planned to, but whether or not my work goals are completed, the week is.  As long as I gave it my best, that's worth celebrating.*

*I'm always looking for a reason to celebrate.   

Celebrating the end of the week looks different for everyone, and with many it becomes a tradition.  For some, Friday night is always pizza and a movie.  For some, it might mean family game night.  For the longest time, in my family, it meant dinner together--namely my dad's famous hot wings. 

The last year I taught third grade, my students really embraced my love  for Fridays.  In the morning when I would greet them as they walked into my classroom many would say, "Happy Friday!" grinning from ear to ear up at me.  There was one student in particular who would always come over to me on Friday mornings and say, "I know you're happy today.  It's Friday!"

One of my coworkers would do "Fun Fridays" with her class.  I might have been a little biased because I love fun and I love Fridays, but I thought, "Yes!  This is what it's about."

I'm a little over dramatic and over celebratory, but I think we should find joy in small things.  

Even if it is only a day of the week. 

#88 He Wants to Grow Old Together

"If you live to be 100, I hope to live to be 100 minus a day so I never have to live without you,"

~Winnie the Pooh

Most of us aren't too fond of the idea that each year we grow a little older.  Bones begin to crack, skin begins to crinkle, and the thought of going to bed at 7:00 suddenly seems a perfectly normal and natural thing to do.  In fact, we wonder what was wrong with us all those years that we fought bedtime.

After I turned 26 I decided that from that point on I would only celebrate anniversaries of my 25th birthday.  This year, for example, I celebrated my 25th birthday for the third time.

I know that I'm only kidding myself.  I know in my bones that I'm 27.  And when my dreaded 30th birthday comes, despite the fact I'll tell everyone I'm 25 (for the sixth time), I'll know.  

My Gram turned 80 yesterday.  To celebrate such a monumental occasion my mom planned a surprise party at Villa Mannino in Bordentown.  

I'm sorry, but I have to say it.  There isn't any better looking 80-year-old woman out there.

It's hard to truly convey who my Gram is and all the life, love, and energy that is a part of knowing her.  But here's a small start:

She wears heels.  Often.
She walks in the city in heels.  And doesn't complain.
She maintains her pool.  Without any help.  In wedges.
She lets you borrow her car.  Without question, without concern; other than for your safety.
She cooks.  For everyone and anyone.
She is hospitable.  If she has known you forever or she just met you she will care for you like you are her own.
She is selfless.  Ask for the shirt off her back and she will find a way to give it to you.
She is caring.  Sincerely caring.  She is one of the people that make this world a better place.

So we celebrated the wonder that is Gram with champagne and white wine, her favorite.

Pretty packaged presents.

A bounty of balloons.

And entertainment from all her grandchildren.

I don't think she stopped smiling.

My little brother, Joel, a much more eloquent and entertaining speaker than I, got everyone to share a little love for Gram.  We laughed, and cried happy tears, thinking of all the goodness and blessings Gram has bestowed on all who know her.

We had cake which on the outside looked like any typical birthday cake...

but on the inside was mind blowing.  Spongy vanilla cake with smooth whipped cream and strawberries--yum, yum, yum!  It made me desperately want summer so that I could make my strawberry shortcake trifle.

Joel's friend Tyler enjoyed the cake too.  He got a little jealous of all the pictures I was taking of it, so I snapped a quick one of him.

And one of hubby too.  Doesn't he look positively dreamy in his vest and tie?

The overall wish of all the guests was that they might all look as good as Gram when they reach 80.

This is my wish too.

It was in the midst of all this, when I recognized that growing old is what you make it.  If you focus on the fact that you're sagging in places that you didn't even know could sag, that you have lost count of your gray hairs, or that you suddenly shake your finger at little rascals and threaten to call the cops on them; you simply have become old.  But if you look at life's problems and take Gram's philosophy that Joel quoted of, "Screw it!" you'll always be young at heart.

I know I'll never love the number I am in age, but I know that I want to grow old and I want to be like Gram as I do it.  I want to exemplify youth in old age and live life to its absolute fullest.  And as I do it, I also want to remember the seventeen-year old-lovers of my youth who promised each other that they could never live one moment apart.  Remembering this, I'll treasure my husband more and more with each passing day we share together as one.
 

#28 He Doesn't Mind Getting Old

It has finally happened. I celebrated my very last birthday ever. Last year, I was clueless, blinded by the joy that reaching a memorable age like 25 brings.

Okay, that's not true.

I anticipated this birthday even last year, but I pretended that it would never come. It's rather pathetic, I know. It's especially hard to moan and groan about my age when most people I might moan and groan to are older than me. Much older than me.

However, here is the problem: I've been lied to.

Going through high school you're told that all you need to do is go to college and then enjoy life in your field which you spent a mere four years preparing for. The unfortunate thing that they never tell you is that many will not know what they really want to do and may not be able to grasp it instantly. It will take trial and error, and lots and lots of sweat and tears (I left the blood part out on purpose, so far that hasn't happened to me).

You're expected at 17-years-old to make choices that will impact the rest of your life. But, no one ever tells you that you may not fit into the perfect cookie cutter shaped career world that many ease right into.

Turning 26 reminded me that there is a lot that at 17 I expected to have accomplished by now, but haven't.

I walked into my home at midnight on my birthday, overwhelmed with emotion, tired and ready to climb into bed and pull the covers over my head so the next year could just go on and pass me by, when I walked into a surprise left by my little brother (with the assistance of his girlfriend and my older brother):

(Notes leading into my home)

(Not sure the deal with the skeletons, but it made for an interesting picture).

Knowing the anxiety I was feeling, he went to extreme efforts to try and make me feel special. It took a few days for it to sink in, but I realized: maybe I haven't done everything I hoped and dreamed I'd do by 26, but I've done a few things right. I've been a good sister, daughter, wife, and simply put: woman. I've been there for those who needed me. I've done my best at showing love to those who are unlovable. I've been supportive and understanding. I've grown spiritually. I've listened to others. I've built friendships.

I've loved and been loved.

Sappy? Yes. And yes, in some sense I'm not where 17-year-old me thought I'd be by 26, but in many respects, I'm right on track.

Here's to the hope of what good I can continue to do this year.