Deal of the Day!

I only love shopping as I love to get THE Deal. I don't want a pair of beautiful shoes as much as I want a pair of beautiful shoes for a steal. GGGOOOOOOOAAAAAALLLL.
Where is that obnoxious horn that sounds like mad hornets during the world cup? I want them to blow that at the cash register when I purchase the Willow and Clay top for 1/3 the original price.

So start following me on twitter under the same name Lifebeinglived. I just started this so follow so you can get my daily tweets with pictures!

Sharing that great deal with others who love shopping!

Lifebeinglived at Twitter! I am now posting Deal of the Day!

My love of shopping has now stepped on the toes of my professional world so hard it tweeted! I love shopping! Yes absolutely love shopping but the love does not come in when I arrive at home toting multiple bags, anyone can do that if you have the money. My love of shopping comes from getting that one great deal. I have a great day shopping when I come home with that one key item that was $250.00 that was marked down to $34.99, and yes, I have done that! I love to shop designer stores, well known department stores, boutiques and discount stores, I am not a shopping snob, just a spending money snob.

My professional life consists of helping corporations and people. My position is a combination sales, counseling, matching, and basically just making people happy by helping them to fulfill their needs professionally. I enjoy doing a good job.

So now my shopping has crossed the line. Friends often ask me about something cute I bought and I am more then happy to share what a great deal I got and where I got it. Then I started to see things that made me think of friends so i would take a picture, send it to them and let them know where I saw it. If I haven't left the store I will buy it for them, if I have they know where to get it. Now I pretty much know their tastes so have hit on a few really good matches and GOOOOOOOAAAAAALLL! It is like a sport or competition.

Now, just one step further....I am tweeting and posting pictures of the great deals I see when out shopping- whoever would like to see...well now they can. I love a good deal and think others may too.

Enjoy. I know I do.

Blogging, Am I really getting this and does it really even matter.

I have a blog. Why? I am really not sure. I tend to think of it as a tech savy journal. Am I trying to make a statement, or get readers, or contribute in some way to the blogging world? Maybe, maybe not. I just like writing. I like when someone says 'oh my gosh, I know what you mean' or 'that was so funny' or I can just see it was read by someone else. What I have to say and get on 'paper' is important to me and if someone finds meaning in it as well then I feel connected. I feel as though my own little life in some way relates to someone else's own little life and makes me feel just a tiny bit less alone as millions of people are trying to be unique. I cherish those moments I can really relate to someone else. Maybe we can symbolically hold hands as we trudge through our day knowing at least one other person may be trudging in a few of the same moments as I am.

I have very few followers. Maybe I don't get it as I have followers who follow me from other sites but never really show up as followers on my page. Makes me feel kind of like people can't relate to what I am putting out there. It would be nice to have that cosmic me out there relating to what I am experiencing and sharing via this blog but, at least for me, I have been happy for this past year of blogging just to do a bit of writing. As a mom, as a wife, an employee, a friend. This is the one thing I do that is truly just for me. When I garden I feed other people and get comments on what I should be growing or if I can bring in more snow peas. When I go to the movies with girlfriends I often see movies that are not my first choice because my friend had picked it. I read books my book club chooses. I make dinners my kids and husband request. I write just for me. And I am in heaven.

So add me, or follow me, or do whatever it is that you do. I have two followers that say they follow me on my blog after a year. I hope this means we are trudging along with some common interests. That would be nice. What is nice is that I am writing in my own small way. For me. If you were here you would see the smile on my face.

Private things being made public- random observations

Allow me a moment.

Don't people understand that when they are in a car they are surrounded by 4 windows. You know, those things you see through. Why is it that things go on in the car, with people all around, that should only be happening in the privacy of a bathroom. Let's get it out and over with and say that any facial orifices-finger probing should not be happening as well as any pore clearing activities. Especially in bumper to bumper 4 lane highway type situations. Hey, your windows aren't that dirty!

Several years ago I would wait daily in front of a large Junior High School, with about 50 other cars parked within viewing distance, for my son to get out of school. Daily, the same woman would park, again, with the same 50 cars around her, and pluck her facial hair. For about 10-20 minutes. Every day. Every day for 10-20 minutes she would pluck facial hair. I am no mathematician but isn't that about 50 to 100 minutes a week? Every week! I can only imagine the little hairs flying around the car. Maybe she should figure out a way to donate to the follicley challenged. She seems to be a great prospect.

An older woman in our neighborhood shops on a regular basis with curlers in her hair. One day I will see her at the dry cleaners, the next the post office, three days later the grocery store. She must have an incredible night life as I have never seen her without curlers in our daily activities. The question comes to mind that if she cares enough about how she looks to put curlers in her hair then why does she go out with them on? And for what activity are they for? In my odd thought process I have decided that she dressed up for her husband each and every day at 5:15 right before he walks in the door. Maybe she really does have the right idea, of course this would be in the world I created for her.

I had a coworker who every Monday, about 15 minutes after getting to work, would then decide that his fingernails were too long and begin clipping them in his cubicle. Did they grow on the way to work? I assume he spent the weekend with them so what happened between the 72 hours he had been away from work and the 15 minutes upon arriving at work?

I was at work today and a man was talking very loudly on the phone in our lobby. I was waiting to escort a client in so stood a reasonable distance away from him as I do think myself to be a polite person. When he mentioned the 'weird porn he saw last night' and my head inadvertently turned, he gave me a dirty look, said to the person on the other end that he had to go as 'someone is listening in' Hm. Aren't I the naughty one!

I think my moment is over. Now I am guilty too- sharing my publicly private moments publicly.

My Grandmothers Death..........or Life.

On Saturday, May 29th my grandmother and grandfather had just celebrated my grandfathers 92nd birthday with cake, cards and the company of my parents. As grandma was picking up the table she suffered heart failure and fell. For those of you who have read my blog before, my grandfather has advanced Alzheimers and is pretty confused on a day to day basis but made his way out to the nurses station in their care facility and let them know that Grandma fell. Grandma officially died two days later, after being declared brain dead the day before.

Although we all miss her terribly we know she had a wonderful, long, rich life. My Grandmother was someone to emulate, someone who everyone remembered as the person who always saw a silver lining in every rain cloud. Someone who, when her children complained about their children always stood up for them and reminded them that children are supposed to make mistakes so they were doing just as they should. This was a life we were to celebrate, not mourn. The part the family is mourning is my grandfather and his confusion with all that is going on.

The day she died my uncle took my grandfather to her hospital room to say goodbye, everyone wondering how much he would know and remember. He was clear and focused and very aware not only of what was going on but displayed unusual clarity about their past. He talked to her about how it was time for her to go, how much their wonderful life meant to him, how they had been married for 70 years and how much he loved her. Without any prompting he talked to the Dr.s and nurses about specific details of their shared 70 years. The man my Grandfather was was there again. It was a wonderful, magic moment.

Now, every day since her death he looks for her. Every day, several times a day, he asks someone where she is and every day he mourns her death all over again. He cries and tells us that they had a wonderful life and how he should have been first so that he could finally take care of her. He carries a picture of her in his pocket and takes it out every so often to look at it and tell whoever is around what a beautiful woman she is and how much he loves her. Then he looks on the bakc of the picture to see if anything is written about who it is. Grandpa will at times tell someone that he thinks he had a bad dream and ask someone to confirm it. Even though the family is accepting that it was my grandmothers time to go the grief comes from his grief each time he has to hear, for the first time each time, that his beloved bride of 70 years is no longer with him. In his grief and sadness he has not once lashed out at anyone, or asked 'why me', or had a mean word for anyone. He cries and talks about how wonderful she was and that he would not change one day in his life. He tells his family that his further joy will be in them living full, wonderful lives. Grandpa has been a trooper. He happily spends the night with different people, goes to family gatherings with a smile. Is generous with hugs and greets grandkids and great grandkids with a 'who is this beautiful young lady/ handsome young man' (even to me at 48). He is a love, and not just for that as he has also told me ' look how big you are now'. I could be mad but how- he looks at me as a kid.

My grandmothers quality of life had changed in the past 6 months and she was in a lot of pain and at 89 her ability to take care of my grandfather was sketchy. My mother and her brothers were having to make the tough decision, with her knowledge and protests, that her and my grandfather were going to be moving into the full time nursing care portion of their facility. She had the final say by not having to do this. I always loved that stubbornness about her. Even though the head tells you one thing the heart tells you another.

At this point my grandfathers heart is fully engaged. Due to a terrible disease his head is not so he must have his heart re broken every day. The silver lining- is there one? Of course there is- thank you Grandma- is that there is a love so deep at 92 that he only sees the good, he cries every time, and he looks at a picture of this woman he doesn't know that he knows (at age 87) and thinks she is beautiful and somewhere, somehow, KNOWS that he loves her.

Hipbones

Darn. This just stinks. I thought I had it this time. I needed to lose weight again, Ok, the honest truth is more often then not I need to lose more then a few pounds. I am not one of these women who 'forget' to eat or who are 'just stuffed' after having one slice of thin crust pizza. I love food. I love good food. Forget candy and Twinkies and potato chips. I love making a cake from scratch and homemade schnitzel and anything with herbs that has to rise. So when a friend commented that she had lost 15 lbs just by taking a weight lose pill I was on board. I have done my share of diets, with success, but as I near 50 it gets harder to get the weight off and then it seems to come back on all the faster when I am not diligent. I am already a big exerciser so this was not my ticket to skinnytown. In fact I have often wondered while doing my twice weekly 4 mile run how fat I would actually be if I didn't exercise. This pill was my e-ride back to hipbones.

Hipbones. I remember those. I, unfortunately, distinctly remember a day at the beach when I was 21. I was laying on my back, covered in baby oil and happened to lift my head and look down at my toes. OMG (ok, we didn't say that 'back then' either but that is what I was thinking) I could see DOWN THE FRONT OF MY BIKINI BOTTOM! My bikini was stretched across my hipbones and my stomach was so flat- yes, actually CONCAVE- that I could see down my bottoms. I quickly looked around, especially behind me to make sure no one else was looking down the front of my bottoms too! Skinny and dumb. Those were the days!

Anyway, again I digress. My diet pill. Possible side effects sounded worse then being 30 lbs overweight. Possible accidents- might want to wear a pad, stomach pain, frequent and urgent trips to the bathroom- they suggest taking while you know you can spend a few days at home. Wow, how could you not lose weight with this going on. Kind of like having the flu and not only knowing when you are getting it but signing on. Call me desperate but... sign me up. I found a weekend when we had no plans and popped a pill with my dinner Friday night and then hung near the restroom waiting for my side effects to begin. Well, almost hoping they would as that would show this was having an effect on me. Saturday, woke up and took a pill with breakfast and worked out at home skipping my Zumba class. Nothing. Pill and lunch. Dinner and another pill. Went to bed but left the light on in the bathroom, just in case. Woke up having slept through the night. Didn't even get up to pee. Did they say something about kidney damage? Sunday came and went with no activity as well. Wait, there was NO activity. Are you kidding me- how can I lose weight if I don't even drop one kid off at the pool? I get constipated on this pill that promises such drastic bowel issues. This isn't fair! I was counting on a weekend in the bathroom. I was hoping to rent my food. A whole week goes by and I have to increase my coffee intake just be be 'normal'.

I gave it two weeks. I owed it to my hipbones.

My mom.

I had no other choice but to be an awesome woman, my mom set the bar pretty high. The sad part is that she looks at me and at times sees what she thinks are her mistakes. I think far from this. When I was born my mom was really sick. Did not recover from my birth and the Doctors even told my Dad to pick out a coffin and to consider leaving me with the nuns as they already had a 15 month old at home. Instead, I lived my first months with my grandparents until my mom recovered and was back on her feet. This past summer, as a woman in her 60's and me in my late 40's she confided to me with tears in her eyes that she has always felt guilty about this choice and feels terrible that I don't have the connections with our immediate family like my siblings all do.

Funny how I don't see it this way. First of all, she did her best in that situation and I don't see how she had any other choice. Secondly, I needed love and attention which my grandparents gave me and were able to focus on just me. Lastly, my brother was attached to her and would have had more difficulty had he been away from her. I would have done the same thing.

What I do see are the gifts my mother gave me. My mom was a slender, active, attractive, Jackie Kennedy type young mom. Pictures of her when we were toddlers are amazing. My mom had it together even when she had 3 kids 3 and under, and then later a fourth.

Up until the time we were in junior high my mom was a stay at home mom. I remember her face watching at the door as we walked up the street to school. Shopping at the day old bread store. Mom going over our homework and grades sitting at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee. (years later I found out she didn't drink coffee she was having a coke but didn't want us to know) I remember the dresses she made for us, matching hers most of the time. Her friends coming over to play bridge in the afternoon. Letting us make homemade donuts even when lit the linoleum on fire. The way she picked up the house and applied fresh lipstick just before my Dad came home.

My mom let us be kids. We spent summers at the lake complete with every motorized land and water gizmo invented. She water skied with us into her 50's. We went tobogganing in the winter coming home to a warm fire and hot chocolate even though she was right there with us on the toboggan. We watched the Wizard of Oz with huge bowls of popcorn and malts EVERY year even though we woke up with flying monkey nightmares for weeks after. Summers were spent outside ALL day with the caveat that we had to be in the house when the street lights came on. We made lightning bug rings, clover crowns and spent evenings playing kick the can with 30 of our closest neighborhood friends. We went to church, and dressing up to go every time. Every week we went to our grandparents house, pretended to fall asleep in the car on the way home, JUST so Mom and Dad would carry us up to bed and let us sleep in our clothes

As we got older my mom went back to work. She is an intelligent, creative person who was ready to put this into play outside the home. She was a temp for a while, describing each new experience and how fun each job was. Her confidence and ability to go back to work, and in a meaningful, important position after years of being home raising her kids sent me the message that she could, and wanted to, spend time with us as our mother but could also contribute outside our home as well. When I did the same thing a few years ago I didn't realize how hard it was when she made it look so easy. I was in turmoil not knowing who I was or what I wanted after so many years of knowing exactly who I was and where I was going.

My mom had, and still has, a large group of friends and even closer handful of really good friends. Her closest friends are the same she has had since those bridge playing days from 40 years ago. She is a wonderful, caring daughter to my elderly grandparents (who are still alive) an incredible sister to my uncles, a loving grandmother to my kids and their cousins. My Dad is lucky to have her but he isn't too bad himself.

My mom has given me so many gifts and they all started with her first gift of allowing herself to heal (and live) and me to be loved by people who loved us both, my grandparents, so she could be around to do all the things that came in the years to follow. Mom, I love you and your first gift was that you loved me enough to make sure you could give of yourself for years to come.