35 days until mother's day

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I realize I probably should finish start my wedding announcements, but am already thinking about my annual Mother's Day Project. Of course, if you don't know, my Mother has been dead for nearly a decade, and I am not a mother myself. So why would I bother with a Mother's Day Project?

Several years back, I was completely overwhelmed by Mother's Day. I had decided I would just stay inside all day, and try to ignore it, but it didn't work. So I did something about it. The first year I sent cards to a couple of my friends who had recently had babies, and one to a friend that was a nun, and a bit like a grandmother to me. She was the first person I called after learning about my mother.

The next year, I did the same thing again, but added a few more people to the list. I was buying cards back then. Then I got the bright idea of putting my photography to work. I found these cool postcard papers that let you easily adhere a photo. The list kept growing. I think last year I came close to 100 cards sent. They went all over the world.

So the question becomes do I grow the project? Thanks to Twitter, I know a lot more moms. Or do I do something different? Would love feedback.


on the night stand :: The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker


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i have been married two months

canon digital rebel xsi

It sounds weird saying it. Two months in, and it really hasn't set completely. We finally got the official certificates so I can go about the process of changing my name. Already I am starting to switch to my married name when I introduce myself.

The other night I remember introducing myself to two people in a row, using my full married name. It felt odd, but at the same time, a part of me was giddy. Another part of a bit sad because someone had noted to one of the men that he had a fine Irish name. In my head, I was thinking, I can no longer really say that. I am turning into a Chinese guy.

I did take the first step in changing my name. I went to the Social Security Administration website. I figured out the form, and then entered my zip code to determine where I needed to send it. I got an error message informing me that information was not available at this time. Anyone else think this is odd? I mean how often is a new Social Security office opened? I am just happy to learn I can do it by mail. Won't be as lucky with the DMV.



on the night stand :: Sing Them Home by Stephanie Kallos


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this one time at camp - oh wait

canon digital rebel xsi

Recently Adrienne's House posted about how people can get their panties in a knot over what to call spring break. I say it doesn't matter what you call it, you just need to know when it is.

When I was in 5th grade, my Mom signed us up for YMCA camp over spring break. Of course we were in Catholic school, so our break was truly an Easter break. We went home early Holy Thursday, were off on Good Friday, and then back in school the week after Easter.

That Friday night my sister and I rolled up our sleeping bags, and packed up our clothes. We went to bed early as we had to be up first thing to be on the bus that would take us to the mountains for a week.

We arrived shortly after 8, to find the parking lot at the YMCA empty. Where was the bus? Where were the other campers? Were we early? Late?

Several minutes passed, and still there wasn't any sign of anyone. In these situations my sister and I knew better than to say anything, so just sat silently in the back seat, clutching our knapsacks. Around a quarter to nine, one of the staff showed up to open the office. She recognized my Mom, and wondered where we were last week.

That's right, we missed camp because my Mom didn't bother to check the dates. She figured spring break was spring break. And yes, no one from the YMCA called to find out why we didn't show up, despite a single mother paying in full for her two daughters to attend camp.

Honestly, I really wasn't looking forward to going to camp, so wasn't very disappointed. I do think though that that was the Easter we had cold pizza for dinner. I don't remember what she did with us that week. No memory at all.


on the night stand ::Little Bee by Chris Cleave