Bfth's Boring Blog

I went out for my daily walk this morning.  It was a bit chilly, so instead of the usual t-shirt and shorts, I had on a sweatshirt and made sure I had a good pair of socks too.  (I often go   sockless ; yes I have stinky sneakers.) It was a perfect morning for walking.  Cool; maybe even a bit brisk.  The deer were out enjoying the dawn too.  There were plenty of dog walkers out as well; wearing their sweats to keep the early morning chill at bay. It was indeed a beautiful autumn morning.  Just one small problem; it’s the end of July! Now I'm NOT complaining.  I'm not one who likes to huff, puff and sweat through a humid 90+ degree morning in the summer.  I'm thrilled to sleep at night with the windows open.  I'm not a big fan of the "white noise" of our window air conditioning unit.  I much prefer sleeping with all the windows open and listening to the sounds of nature and I wish I knew what insects make those "hushing"...

My son is turning 9 today.  This will be the last year of single digits and the last year of elementary school.  How is this possible?  Where did the time go? There are photos.  There was a time when his head fit into my hand.  Today his hand is almost (but not quite) as big as mine.  Our feet are pretty much the same size and I have been known to wear his socks. I remember taking him for his first haircut when he was 15 months old.  He didn't really need one, for that first year he barely had any but I was about to start a new job and figured a weekday would be a good time to try it as there wouldn't be as many people in the shop.  They gave me clippings of his fine blond hair.  I don't think he had another hair cut for nearly a year.  He didn't need it.  Today is hair his thick and more reddish than blond and if I can manage it, I have him go for a haircut every other month.  It grows that fast! He still is a pic...

In England today they will be celebrating Prince George's first birthday.  In years gone past, here in the US, "American Royalty" would have celebrated Rose Kennedy's birthday.  At my home today we are celebrating my husband's birthday.  To me, it's just as important as either of the above.  He is, after all, king of the castle. (Although the Queen rules the roost!) It may not be in our budget to have a royal celebration, but we will celebrate just the same.  Even if it is in our own quiet fashion.  (It will be especially quiet as our son is away at camp this week...but that's a whole other blog post.) It's been 9 years since I threw him a really big bash (which just happened to fall on a weekend).  In hindsight, that was less of a birthday party and more of a "Daddy" shower.  I certainly didn't intend it that way, but guests arrived with gifts that were less "manly" and more "baby."  I certainly don't thi...

After my last post (You ARE Better Than Me), I just wanted to remind anyone that read it (including myself) that it was written tongue in cheek.  No one is better than me; and I am better than no one.  We are all flesh and blood.  Even Adolph Hitler and Mother Theresa were formed from the same basic elements. Although I don't think I am better than any one person or vice  versa , I do have a few regrets in life.  If I knew then what I know now... There is no great time machine, but if I had the chance to make a few changes, I would. Now obviously I can't change the world.  I couldn't have the son that I have now 5 years earlier. (Although that would have been helpful so that my son could have gotten to know his great grandparents.) I couldn't stop Superstorm Sandy from hitting the Jersey Shore, but I could have my parents pack up the things that meant the most to them and carry them back north.  I know we couldn't save everythin...

(Disclaimer:  As I write this, I have my tongue firmly pressed in my cheek.) It's time to admit it. It's time to throw in the towel.  You ARE better than me. You were more popular in elementary school, junior high and high school.  We didn't go to the same university, but I know that you were popular there too.  And if I had been there (your school was so much more prestigious than mine), I know I would never have been as popular as you. You have a better job with an impressive title.  I've never been invited to your office, but I bet you have a big one with at least one window.  I sit in a cubicle.  (Although there have been times when I've had an actual office, sadly those days are gone.) You have a nicer house than me.  Mine is old and shows its age.  Paint peels, tiles fall off the wall and the plaster is bowing and cracking.  You just put a new addition on yours.  You have all the latest gadgets that make it a ...

Saturday night I was a local watering hole and had drinks with strangers.  They all did different things:  there was a cop, a race car drive, a teacher, an electrician, etc.  Some were married; some were not.  Some traveled a distance to be there, others could have walked home.  They were a small diverse group; each person unique in his or her own way. They were people I wouldn't have ordinarily "hung out with." They were all very nice though and I was glad to have had the opportunity to spend time with each and every one of them, even though we really had only one thing in common; we had all gone to high school together.  (More years ago than I care to admit so I won't write it here.)  Of the group, there was only one that I could have really called friend; that is prior to our meeting on Saturday night. Why was that?  All those years ago, none of us really traveled in the same "social circles."  We may have had a few classes togeth...

I have come to realize that I am in the "middle" age.  I don't mean I am middle aged.  (Although that is true.  Once you hit 40 you are in middle age, since the average American lives to about 80.  Of course in my mind middle age isn't until 60 or so, but people rarely live to 120.  Who wants to admit that they are getting older?  But all of this is totally off the topic at hand.)  What I mean is that I am in the middle, or as a friend told me recently, I am the in the sandwich generation. The term sandwich generation might be a little bit better.  And explains my situation better too.  I am in the middle.  Concerned about my son (as any mother would be) AND about my parents, as well as my in laws.   There will come a time, in the not so distant future I am afraid, where I will be "parenting" not only my son but my parents.   Eventually, I expect that I will also be looking after (in one way or another) my in laws.  (...

Although we won't be celebrating for 2 more days, July 2nd is the actual day that independence was voted on by Congress in 1776.  (Which also happens to be the title of one of my favorite musicals and the source of much of my historical knowledge about the time.  Despite being a musical, it is very historically accurate.) As John Adams said in his July 3, 1776 letter to his wife Abigail:   "The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Bl...

July is here.  The year is half over.  Winter is finally behind us and the hot summer weather has arrived.  (It may be hot, but I am doing my best NOT to complain after all the cold and snow we had). A lot has been going on in the world news lately:  internationally (kidnappings, murder and, of course, soccer; Go TeamUSA!), nationally (Supreme Court anyone?) and locally (murder of a young man in the next town over who seemed to be the kind of kid I would want and hope my son to grow up to be...and that's what makes it so frightening). So, I could blather on about any of those things.  But to be quite honest, talking heads (or in most cases SHOUTING heads) give me a headache and I just turn them off and tune them out.  (Yes, every one's entitled to their own opinion and I have friends shouting on both sides of the fence.  It doesn't mean I have to listen or agree with either one of them.)  Why would I want to write or blog about that? I ha...