Writes for Kicks

Man vs. Dog

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 14:51:00 GMT

I've been kicking around some stuff in my head lately and decided that it might be helpful to write down a few thoughts. Mainly, I'm trying to decide if it would be better to find someone new to date, or get a puppy.

2009 has been quite a ride for me so far. My boyfriend and I broke up in January. Then my dad had a medical emergency; he's still recovering but doing well. Next I break my wrist. And, finally, my computer crashes three times in two weeks when I'm in the middle of a big research product at work, for my new job that I started right before Christmas. For whatever reason, I've taken most of these challenges in stride and have been grateful that I've just been able to focus on myself, my children, my family and my new job.

But then, like always, I start thinking that there is something more for me--something greener on the other side of the fence. Something that could make life a little more fun for me and the kids. What I can't for the life of me figure out, is if that something has two legs, or four paws. So, in the interest of figuring it out, I thought I'd make a list of the pros and cons. For those of you who have someone special in your life, of either the four-pawed or two-legged variety, please let me know if I am forgetting anything so I can make sure and make the best decision.

In my mind, the pros of getting a puppy include: unconditional love, entertainment, a walking buddy. They are loyal, protective, cute, funny, the kids would enjoy one, they don't leave the toilet seat up, if they nudge you in bed you can just scratch behind their ears and they will go back to sleep, they are not babies when they are sick. The cons include: dirty paws, being awaken at 5:06 in the morning (I know this to be a fact because we dog-sat over the weekend), chewed shoes, plants dug up, needing to pick up the dog litter in the yard, vet costs, kennel costs, dog hair that needs to be vacuumed or swept up constantly.

The pros of a new guy can be awfully similar (except many do leave the toilet seat up and they act a little differently in bed), but it's a little trickier. With dogs, if you do enough research, you can pretty much figure out the basic temperament that you are going to get. For example there are breeds that are more social, or more protective or working dogs. With guys this can be a little more challenging to figure out. What you think is a working guy could actually turn out to be a more laid back, docile guy. Or, you could get a guy who is overly-social or too protective. The thing is, though, it's hard to know from the get-go. Just like a puppy does not usually start to really settle down and settle in for about a year, you don't really know a guy's true colors until about the same amount of time has passed.

Pros of the right guy, for me, though, would probably include: entertaining, smart, cute, funny, loyal, they shovel (or snow blow), they cook (might as well shoot high), they like to travel, they mow the lawn, they are hard-working, they remove their muddy shoes at the door. (And thanks to Jeanne, for reminding me--they can remove mice from mouse traps!) The cons include: they can be time-consuming, they want you to cook for them, do their laundry, they are not always content to let you sleep when you are tired, they may not agree that you need another pair of black shoes, a new leather couch in the family room, or a girl's weekend in New York.

I know that I've only touched the surface of this topic. So if you have anything to add to get me off the fence one way or another, I'd appreciate it. The kids and I recently dog-sat for a Teddy Bear dog named Mindy. She was cute as all get out. Miranda loved her. Mindy loved me and shadowed me for two days. Apparently it's typical for this kind of dog to latch on to one person and I reminded her most of her mother, I'm sure. It was definitely fun to have a dog in the house again. But I wasn't too crazy about the orange puke stain I found on the dining room carpet after she left.

Puppy love

Heather Dorsey — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 04:04:48 GMT

I have been a frequent visitor to the Wisconsin Humane Society website lately. Like really frequent. I am on that site at least a couple of times a week.

This morning there were about eight or 10 adorable puppies, Dalmatian mixes and Shepard mixes, that were all adopted by the end of the day.

I have been fighting the urge to get a puppy for awhile now. Mostly because as cute as they are, I know how much work they are.

My ex-husband and I had a Springer/Chesapeake mix. He was the greatest dog. He was also about 90 pounds at his heaviest, and a little difficult to take care of, on my own, after I got divorced. He went back and forth with the kids, before he was put to sleep a couple of years ago, for a variety of medical reasons: he had bad hip displasia and Cushings disease and was in a lot of pain in the end.

The thing is, I really miss walking a dog. It still feels strange to me, all these years later, to go on a walk without a dog. Of course I also miss how they clean your kitchen floors of all the crumbs and scraps of food that the kids manage to leave lying around.

So, in an attempt to get off the fence, one way or another, I am watching a friend's dog over Easter break. Since I believe I am the only person I know not going somewhere warm (my kids are going to Florida with their dad), I will either enjoy having a little companion around and all that unconditional love. Or, I will be totally annoyed when this little teddy bear dog wakes me up too early, has muddy paws that need to be washed or has an accident on my carpet.

Feel free to send us a postcard! I'll let you know how it goes.

An Apple a day?

Heather Dorsey — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 17:12:00 GMT

I've had blog posts forming in my head for weeks. Unfortunately they haven't made it out of my head, until now. And as I write this, I have no idea how this blog is going to take shape.

Maybe it's the weather: cold, warm, cold, warm. Maybe it's my computer: works, crashes, works, crashes, works, crashes. (Yes, you read that correctly. Three times, count 'em, three times, my computer has crashed on me in the last two weeks!) Maybe it's the doctor appointments for my broken wrist. (And for those of you who wondered how my wrist was broken by a soccer ball, I had my vitamin D levels checked and they are normal. Thanks for your concern.) But lately my thoughts are a little scattered. I can't form a blog post, in my head, to save my life. So, I'm just going to wing it.

I've had Dell out here two times in the last two weeks and they will be coming again, this week, to fix my computer. Thank heavens for the extended service warranty. (I've been using my old computer--the kids' computer--talk about slow!)

First, Dell replaced the video card and my computer worked like new again--for four days-- then it crashed. Next they replaced the video card and the mother board and my computer worked like new again. Then, two days later, it crashed. Now they are going to come out and replace everything in the hard drive.

In the end, it will have taken five hours worth of phone calls to India. The independent consultant Dell has in my area will have made three service calls (at least I hope it's only three). They've shipped parts three times and then the computer consultant ships back the old parts. Seems to me that would all add up to a brand new hard drive, by this point.

By contrast, here is how a visit to the Apple store went Sunday. I walked in for a noon appointment at the Genius Bar. I was kept waiting for about 15 minutes, then I explained that the charger for Miranda's Ipod Shuffle was not working and that it had not been working since November. I also showed the paperwork that Apple had replaced her Shuffle in October, because it hadn't synced properly. Shortly after that, the charger had gone; but I was just getting around to taking care of it now.

The very helpful genius tested it; sure enough it was not working. He got me a new one, made sure it synced up with iTunes o.k. He said, "Miranda will be back in business." Then he handed me the $29.99 charger for free and I was on my way, within 10 minutes, tops.

Wow! Now I realize that an Ipod Shuffle is not a computer. But still. The customer service was outstanding. I never even had a receipt for her Shuffle in the first place, because I won it as a raffle prize.

For all you Apple cult members--you know who you are! I may have been a little brainwashed my last two visits. My next computer will be a laptop. So the question is, Dell or Apple?

I'd give my right arm...

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 01:08:00 GMT

"I'd give my right arm..."

I don't know if I've ever used that expression before. However, I'm certain I'll never use it now.

I had a little incident last weekend. I was running on to the soccer field to sub in at my weekly Sunday night game (I'm a member of The Women's Soccer Club) when the goalie of the opposing team was whipping the ball down the field--HARD! Except it didn't get very far because the full force of this ball hit my right wrist instead.

Luckily, my friend Beth, on our team, is a doctor. She wrapped my wrist up with some ice and told me she would contact a colleague of hers to see if he could see me in the morning. Funny thing is (or actually not so funny) is that right before the game we were discussing the fact that I had just had x-rays taken of this wrist three days earlier. It's been giving me some trouble since early December and I was told I had a ganglion cyst. However it turned out that I had an old fracture, unbeknownst to me.

I asked Beth what they would do to treat it and she told me nothing, since it had already healed on it's own. She said: "unless you were to break it again, they aren't going to do anything."

About five minutes later--it was broken. Really freaky weird, don't you think? Of course I didn't know that until about 1:30 the next afternoon when I got a cast put on it. The bad news is I broke the other side of my wrist so the part that was already giving me trouble will not be fixed by the cast.

When something bad happens to me, I try to find some meaning in what has happened and see what I can take away from the experience. I'm pretty sure between what happened to my dad, earlier this year, and now this is that I need to stop taking good health for granted. Something I have always been fortunate enough to do.

As I've been learning what is impossible to do without my right hand (cutting up a cantaloupe, putting my hair in a pony tail and wiping my...never mind, we're not going to go there) I am vowing that I am never going to take my health for granted again, nor the health of my loved ones for granted.

In the meantime, the experts say you can create new pathways in your brain from doing things differently than how you normally do them: brushing your teeth with your left hand instead of your right, etc. So, maybe all of this will make me a little smarter and keep Alzheimer's at bay for a little longer? I hope so. If nothing else, the kids are being helpful with way less prodding; I'll take that for sure!

Donald Driver

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 22:02:00 GMT

I saw Donald Driver on the news yesterday. Actually, he was all over the news giving his comments on Brett Favre's retirement. That's great, and all, but as far as I could see (and maybe I just missed it) no one was talking about why Donald Driver was in town yesterday.

I was fortunate enough to attend a grand opening yesterday at the new Goodwill Workforce Development Center on Capital Drive. The center is free to anyone. So, basically a person can walk in off the street and get all kinds of job training. Donald Driver, a spokesperson for Goodwill, attended the event and helped cut the ribbon with, among others, Mayor Tom Barrett. The center is totally funded by Goodwill at no cost to the consumer. It's a really beautiful office space complete with an Internet café.

In doing some research for an article, I've come to learn about the variety of causes that Donald Driver is involved with and it's really impressive. The Donald Driver Foundation, click here for more information, does a lot for homeless families, as well as single-parent families.

So, I think that when Donald Driver comes to town to support the opening of this new job center, given the current economic climate, that's news. He also signed copies of his new children's book: "Quickie makes the Team." A portion of the profits, from sales of the book, goes into his foundation.

He looks you straight in the eye when he shakes your hand and really impressed me as a very sincere person. I know one station covered the opening of the center, channel 58 (though they didn't talk about Donald Driver), and again, maybe I just missed it on some other stations. I hope so, because I think credit needs to be given where credit is due. And a professional athlete who seems to care as much about people, as he does football, is something all kids who aspire to be a famous athlete some day, should see.

A kind word.

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 06:10:25 GMT

I've been spending a lot of time at Froedtert Hospital lately. My dad has a health issue that has had him there for more than a week. If his room faced the south, he could possibly see his own house; my parents have lived across the street from Froedtert since I was 12 years-old.

When my dad first checked in to the hospital, there were all kinds of diagnostic tests. Then there was a procedure that we had to wait a day-and-a-half for, because traumas coming in stole away the anesthesiologist teams. Then we received good news; all had gone well. And now, the recovery begins with various kinds of therapy. I'm purposely not mentioning what happened to my dad, to protect his privacy, but it's been quite a roller coaster ride.

He's mentally sharp and still has his sense of humor in tact. Yesterday, I joked that he should check and see if the doctors who have been treating him have a wedding ring on, or not. He liked that one and asked me if I was keeping my eyes open when I was in the cafeteria, as well. I'm not; but that's another blog.

Anyway, the reason I wanted to write about what has been going on lately is to give a shout-out for the employees at Froedtert. I have been so impressed by the friendliness and kindness of everyone who works there. From the guys I see polishing and cleaning the floors to the cafeteria workers, the people who staff the family center, the nurses, doctors and even the parking garage attendants.

Last Friday, the day he finally had his surgery, I left the hospital after a 12 hour visit. As I left the parking ramp around 7:30 at night I was emotionally and physically drained. The parking attendant took my ticket and told me to have a nice night and get some rest.

He didn't know why I was there that day. Maybe it was the bags under my eyes that gave me away. But those kind words sustained me on my drive home alone as I worried about my dad and said yet another prayer.

It only takes a moment to smile at someone walking past, say "hello" to someone in an elevator or to hold open a door for someone. But you never know when even the slightest random act of kindness will have a much deeper meaning to the person on the receiving end. I'm counting my blessings as I continue to pray for my dad's full recovery. And in 2009, I'm vowing to be the person who gives someone the little extra lift they need, without even realizing it.

Back to Work.

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 06:01:00 GMT

So far, 2009 has started with a bang in my house as I have reentered the workforce full time. So, if you are job hunting--don't give up. There are jobs out there; just keep looking.

One of the really cool things about my new position is that I am working for a company that has a lot of relationships with faith-based non-profit organizations. These organizations are looking for help with a number of different endeavors: fund raising, accounting, marketing, tech support--you name it. My company facilitates relationships between these organizations and professionals who want to "give back." So I'm basically going to be playing matchmaker to help make these connections.

An area that I was learning about today seemed like it may be a good fit for stay-at-home moms who are looking to get back to work, but want the flexibility of working out of their homes: grant writing. With our economy struggling as it is right now, nonprofits are going to be competing, more than ever, for grants from foundations, most of which, will be giving out less grant money than they did a year or two ago. Skilled grant writers will be an asset, worth their weight in gold, for any not-for-profit organization.

Dr. Sally Stanton, a writing professional with 25 years experience in non-profits, higher education and business, leads an eight-week course that you can take from home via the Internet. If you are interested, check out the "Grants as you go" website by clicking here.

I think though times are tough, we still need to give back. Whether it's to a not-for-profit cause that you support--the arts or animal welfare, youth groups or even for your children's school, this course could help you learn how to make a difference.

Bingo!

Heather Dorsey — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 17:43:56 GMT

My friend Jennifer and I like to head down to Potawatomi Casino occasionally to play Bingo. She goes a little more often than I do. And she has inducted more than one person into the world of bingo cards, daubers and a smoke-filled non-smoking section.

I believe last night was my third or fourth time in as many years. For the uninitiated, Bingo is crazy! You get a million bingo cards of all different shapes and sizes. It is rare that you actually are trying to get one row like the kind of Bingo we played when we were kids. Instead you are trying to get the "postage stamp" or the "small turtle" or the "crazy kite." You use your ink dauber to mark up to nine cards, at a time, if you buy a single set of cards--more for the people who buy more than one set. They tell you to use the olive-colored sheet next and as you are looking for it they've already called out three numbers. That is when you figure out that olive is really light grey and no one else seems to have any trouble with figuring this out. (Is everyone here color-blind?)

Even though I've gone a number of times and learn a little more each time I go, I still don't know what the heck I am doing half the time. Here's an example from the second time I went. You are given a little door prize number when you purchase your bingo cards. Throughout the evening they call out these numbers and if it is your number you scream "buddy!" at the top of your lungs and then they will come and check your winning ticket, and in a little while, someone will come and hand you some money. I know this from first experience.

I was with Jen and another friend when they called out the first number. I couldn't find my ticket anywhere. We had eaten a snack and threw out the garbage, so I look in to the bag that they have taped to the table (for all your used bingo sheets) and sure enough, in with the napkins and nacho crumbs is my ticket. O.K., cool, crisis adverted. They didn't call my number so I put my ticket in a safe spot this time. We continue to play Bingo and then they call out another number, since my friend Jen's ticket was one number away from mine, she knew they had called out my number. I hadn't even heard them call the number I was still searching for B13 or O73 or something of that nature. I start looking for my ticket...where was that safe place again? My coat pocket, my purse, my jean's pocket...where is it? "Scream buddy!" "Scream buddy!" my friend Jen is yelling at me. I scream, "Buddy!" and then there it is. I find my ticket.

A man comes and takes my ticket and I keep playing. A little while later, he comes back and counts out $250 for me. I kid you not! And I never win anything, or up to that point I rarely did. How fun is that? I was headed out on a vacation that following week and now I had my spending money.

Last night, which was typical, I won nothing. Jen and I had a great time laughing and having fun (quietly), while all the people around us were extremely serious. And, quite frankly, a little snotty. Even though I started out this blog about my winning story, because, well, it's sort of fun, the real reason I wanted to write was about something that we observed while we were playing.

A granddaughter was there with her grandmother and every time the grandmother asked a question or made a comment the granddaughter would reply to her with a snotty tone. I ignored it at first, but after a few times I met eyes with Jen across the table and you could tell she was thinking the same thing I was. I said to Jen, "I really miss my grandma; you know this was the first Christmas I spent without her." Jen had been at the funeral but couldn't believe it had only been a year since my grandmother had died last January.

I then continued, "I never talked to my grandmother like that." And Jen agreed that she had not talked to hers that way, as well. We discussed how much we missed them and how much fun it would be for them to be there with us. She said, "I feel like saying something to her." I agreed. I'm not sure if the girl heard us or not, but she stopped talking so snotty to her grandma so I think maybe she did.

My grandmother was 96 when she died. She was always one of my number-one fans. She was also funny, really funny. And my cousin's child thought she was called "great grandmother" because she was so great. If you are fortunate enough to have your grandparents still alive, make time for them and cherish them. One thing I loved to do with my grandmother, when she was still alive, was to stop at Taco Bell and get tacos (she loved them) and then take her to the playground so we could chat while she watched her grandchildren play. She loved getting out of the assisted living facility she was in. Later when she was placed in a nursing home and went down hill fast, my goal was always to cheer her up and make her smile before I left. If I was having a bad week, nothing cheered me up more than heading to visit my grandmother.

The price of the taco: about 79 cents, I believe. The visits were priceless.

Warm blooded kid.

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 05:27:00 GMT

It's that time of year when I have to put my foot down with my son Riley.

"You have to wear your winter coat! You really need to put some gloves on! Where is your hat?"

This is an actual statement I made to him yesterday. I actually wrote down what I said after I said it, because I felt a blog post coming on. To give you some background, he was leaving the house for basketball practice. He had on shorts and a long-sleeved hooded sweatshirt. This was after I insisted that he was not going to leave the house in just shorts--he needed sweat pants and a winter jacket. It was snowing out and the windchill was below zero.

And I actually said: "The wind chill is below zero. The roads are slippery. Cars can crash when roads are slippery. You'll get hypothermia and they'll have to amputate your leg."

I have to chuckle as I write this. My son is the most warm-blooded human being you will ever meet. He is always warm. I will have on jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, a scarf wrapped half -way around my face, a winter jacket and gloves and I will be freezing. He will be wearing short-sleeves and be warm to the touch.

But there is a time when I absolutely have to put my foot down and when the wind chill is below zero I pick my battle and insist on winning.

I put up with the stares from little old ladies when it is 40 degrees out, and he is not wearing a jacket, because I know the kid is actually warm. I let him play soccer or football in fall, when it is damp and miserable, and he is the only kid out on the field without a long-sleeved shirt on under his uniform. I send him to school where he is the only kid in 5th grade wearing short sleeves. But during our Wisconsin cold snaps I micromanage.

Now if only I could find a way to harness his body heat to heat up the house, then I'd really be on to something!

Too funny not to share!

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 19:45:58 GMT

Time seems to be speeding up lately. I think that is the general consensus I am hearing from time-starved moms. There is too much to be done, and not enough hours in the day, at this time of year.

What we need is time out to have a good laugh! If you are up for it, click here. It is laugh-out-loud funny. And this is after I walked out of Panera this morning, where I had breakfast with a friend, and found that someone had smashed in one of the tail lights on my minivan. (Merry Christmas to you, too! Thanks so much for not leaving a note.)

It's hard to say for certain, but I think my favorite part is when the wife says to the husband: "Wow! I'm married to you."

Snow Day

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 01:37:47 GMT

Normal school day:

6:15: Wake up Miranda.

6:16 - 6:20: Cuddle with Miranda and coax her out of warm bed.

6:20: Wake up Riley.

6:20 - 6:30: Miranda gets dressed; I help her do her hair.

6:30: Miranda starts eating breakfast.

6:30- 6:40: Some time in here Riley makes an appearance, hopefully already dressed in his school uniform.

6:40 - 7:00: Some time in here Riley eats, brushes his teeth, packs up his school stuff and packs up his snack (both of which should have been done the night before).

6:55 - 7:00: Miranda brushes her teeth, gathers up her school stuff.

Of course, I help or nag this whole time depending on whether or not we are having a good morning. "Miranda eat." "Miranda eat." "Miranda, are you eating?" "Miranda, you cannot talk and eat at the same time."

I make lunches, remind kids not to forget gym clothes, snacks, library books. I help look for missing gloves, make sure they have their snow pants and that they didn't forget to pack their lunches...you know the drill.

7:00: Kids out the door. (Me too, the days I drive carpool.)

Snow Day:

5:30: Miranda wakes up.

5:45: Riley wakes up.

Enough said.

Gotta love carpool.

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 17:05:02 GMT

Out of the mouth of babes, as they say.

The other day I was driving carpool to basketball practice. It's small, just three of us moms drive (actually two moms and a dad who is helping coach). So I'm listening to three 10 yr. old boys chat, along with my 6 yr. old, and one of the boys asked Miranda if she was 6 or 7 yrs. old. One of the other boys said, "you are not supposed to ask women how old they are. They don't like it."

Boy number one said: "Yeah, I know they don't like getting older."

Boy number two: "I don't know why. Guys don't mind getting older, but women do. And women live longer than men anyway. So men are the ones that should be upset about getting older, not women."

Too funny! I was laughing in my head and thinking about the answer to the question. (The reason I didn't laugh out loud is you hear way more interesting stuff if they kind of forget that you are there.)

I thought, all you have to do is watch the news to get the answer to that question. Guys are often balding (think Matt Lauer), have big guts (think many of the weatherman, not locally but Al Roker and Willard Scott come to mind), or are, in general, just really funny-looking (weird hair-dos or facial hair). When is the last time you saw a heavy woman on the air? It just doesn't happen.

With these 10 yr. olds the conversations keep getting more and more interesting. I love the naiveté that these kids still have. At other times, especially with the girls, they seem way too sophisticated for their own good. This conversation kind of got finished before it got started; but if I hear of anything else interesting, I'll keep you posted.

Winter Wonderland

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 04:22:05 GMT

The last of the leaves were raked yesterday (much thanks to my wonderful boyfriend) and I thought it was only fit to share why I love where I live, despite having to rake the leaves so much.

I must say, with the fabulous fall weather we had this year it wasn't even too much of a chore (well, I did ache a bit). I guess the only times I really mind doing it is when it is freezing outside.

So, this is what I woke up to this morning: spectacular! I know my photos aren't doing it justice, but I try.

Fa,la,la,la,la...

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 19:06:50 GMT

I don't know about you, but I'm starting to get that feeling that I get every year around this time. You know the one...if you are ahead of me you are already getting wiggy about the upcoming holiday season. Maybe you are stressed out about getting Thanksgiving dinner on the table. Maybe, like me at this very moment, you are planning on getting your carpets cleaned. (Whatever they are using to clean my carpets is totally annoying my eyes/nose at the moment. This can't be healthy for these guys who do this day in and day out.) You are thinking about holiday decorations, greeting cards, presents, school concerts, outfits. The list is endless.

Every year I think if I can just get enough stuff done early enough then I won't have to get stressed out. And every year I seem to do a little better at this. I put my holiday lights up (but not on yet) last week when it was still mild out. I've already ordered and received my holiday cards. A couple of years ago I typed in all the addresses of the people on my Christmas card list so that all I have to do is make some revisions each year and print out the list on labels. I've managed to keep my house tidy enough so that when I host Thanksgiving dinner next week it shouldn't take all that long to clean.

Yet every year, no matter how prepared I am, the other shoe always drops at some point. One minute I am fine and then the next minute I feel the stresses of the holidays come on. I always think that this year will be the year it won't happen. Adding to my potential anxiety-triggers this year is the fact that my children will be visiting out-of-town relatives with their dad which always makes the holidays a little more difficult for me.

It was with all this in mind that I came across an interesting e-mail in my in-box this morning talking about not letting the stress of the holiday season get to you this year. It is from this organization called "The scream free life" and though I think that title is kind of hokey, the articles that this woman writes are really interesting and seem to resonate with me, more often than not. So I can't quite get myself to unsubscribe from their mailing list.

Anyways, if you have a moment, click here. I'm going to try a few of her tips and hope that this will be the year I buy into the true meaning of the season and not the stress of the season as well.

Free Snapfish Photo Book on Oprah

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:03:39 GMT

This opportunity is just too good not to share. My sister just called me to tell me about a special offer she saw on Oprah.

She said Snapfish.com was offering a free, bound 8" x 11" custom-cover photo book to help Oprah viewers get organized. Her guest, Peter Walsh, suggested taking digital photos of your children's artwork and then having them made into an album. I had to laugh because I blogged about clutter last month and one of the lines in the poem I created was: "Oh... and the most confusing part... what to do with all the art?"

I actually took pictures of all my children's art when I was getting organized; but I hadn't taken the next step yet and had them made into an album. Well, I was just on Oprah's website and I got the coupon loaded into my Snapfish account for the free album. Now the hard part will probably be how backed up that site will be. To take advantage you'll probably have to go and make your album at two in the morning; but I figure it's worth a try.

So start snapping some photos and here's the link: http://www1.snapfish.com/info18

The kicker: you only have until Friday night to get the coupon and you have to make your album by Sunday, November 16th.

Orange Roughy

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 04:07:36 GMT

We had orange roughy tonight for dinner. They were just lightly breaded fillets. My 10 yr.old walks up, sits down and says, "what kind of chicken is this?" I answered, "it's not chicken--it's fish. He said, "it's really good." So I told him it was orange roughy. He made kind of a funny face and then abandoned it and just said again that it tasted good.

I know this is not a big deal to you; but it is a huge deal in our house. You see at the age of 10, my son seems to be getting past his picky-eater stage with no help from me whatsoever. Things that he used to look suspiciously at and refuse to try, he now eats. I'm not a huge fan of hot lunch, but now about once a week he'll announce that he wants to have it so I get a little vacation from helping him get his lunch ready.

The amount of restaurants we can now eat out at is drastically increasing since he has decided tomato-based sauces are o.k. That opens up the world of Italian and Mexican restaurants for sure. He will even eat things he doesn't really like that much; as long as it isn't too bad.

This kid was such a picky eater up until he realized that there were a lot of good foods he was missing out on. I think he just got bored with eating the same things all the time. He is still at his core a little picky. He won't drink soda. He doesn't think he likes it and I am all good with discouraging him from doing so. He also won't eat pies or drink smoothies. Again, fine with me, since he gets enough sugar in other sweets.

It's just so cool to see your kids mature. It seems like yesterday that my mom, ex-husband and I had to pin him down to take an antibiotic when he was little because he refused to drink it. It didn't work; he spit it out. (Did I mention how strong willed he was as a child? Or the kinder description: determined.)

I just remember thinking that you can battle your kids about a lot of things, but you really can't force them to eat something they don't want to eat. At least, I was never successful at it. At some point I gave up and counted my blessings that there were a lot of healthy foods that he liked. And, though I was sick of always making the same things, I figured some day he would expand his horizons. And that some day is now. Yea!

Working it.

Heather Dorsey — Wed, 29 Oct 2008 16:57:57 GMT

I headed to the gym after carpool drop-off this morning. My kids' school starts really early, so I was able to drop carpool off and head to an exercise class that starts at 7:30. I literally drive right past the gym, to get home, so there are no excuses. Later in the day, as things get crazy, I can feel good that I got my work-out in before I ran out of time (and energy!).

As I pulled in the parking lot I saw a car stop after the driver pulled out of his parking spot. He was lighting his cigar. I had to chuckle to myself and comment to the person working at the front desk. Doesn't that negate whatever he just did for a workout?

Anyway, I hadn't done an exercise class in forever. I go in spurts. If you read my last blog about getting tennis elbow raking leaves last fall, that was partially because I had been attending this challenging exercise class where we used a lot of heavy weights. I had done the class before I had raked leaves that night and the combination of the two had left me with this painful, swollen elbow. Not only did it turn me off of raking leaves, but the exercise class as well.

This class was being taught by a mom at school, who I know, and it was a new class so I thought I would be supportive and attend. Well, she didn't need my support. Her class was crowded and it was awesome! It's a muscle conditioning/strengthening class and it made everything burn, so you don't feel like you are wasting your time, that is for sure.

Who knew this woman was totally funny as well. There were times I was laughing so hard it was hard to hold the body bar still (while balancing on one leg, I might add). The reason I decided to blog about this, I guess, is just that sometimes you have to shake up your routine a little bit. I've been really bored with working out lately but it is so important to get those endorphins going. You feel so much better after you do. Being able to laugh out loud for a majority of the class was such an added bonus.

As I left the club smiling I walked past my neighbor's car. A mom of five children, her license plates say: "WHAT KDZ." That always makes me chuckle. Then I saw a new little sticker on her car "I know I run like a girl...try to keep up!"

Ah, simple pleasures...sometimes it's just the little things.

Oh how the cold wind blows!

Heather Dorsey — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 16:35:13 GMT

It's that time of year! I love fall! I love the colors, being able to wear jeans, going to my children's' sporting events and decorating the house for Halloween. But what I don't like about fall is the annual raking-of-the-leaves ritual.

It's not that I mind raking and leaf blowing that much. Truthfully, I love my leaf blower; even though it does blow the mulch all over when I'm trying to clean out my garden beds. It's just the fact that I will have to clean up the leaves at least five or six times. The first time is fun. The kids and I make leaf piles...I get out my camera...when we are done we schlep big tarps full of leaves down to the woods.

The second time...still kind of fun. The third time, the kids abandon all the fun before the piles are even formed. The fourth time, my daughter's hands will be freezing before she even steps out the door and, well, so on and so forth--you get the idea.

I live in a heavily wooded neighborhood. "Gorgeous" would be a good word to describe it. It really is. But it comes with a price.

The only thing is, that other than the trees in between my neighbor's and my driveway, on one side, I'm the only house without a wooded front yard. All my trees are back behind my house, and to one side. Everyone else has trees all over their front yards and guess where all the leaves from my neighbor's house across the street go? They fall down on the ground and sit there until the wind blows them all on to MY yard.

Well, that's not entirely true. Depending on which way the wind blows they either blow on my yard, or the neighbor to her north. This annual event really bonds me with the neighbor to her north. We wave and commiserate with one another as we both are out there, cleaning up the leaves, yet again!

I know it is not my neighbor's fault, exactly. Like my dad says, "it's mother nature." But as we get in to November and it is FREEZING outside and I am out there, yet again, because I don't want to go into winter and have all those leaves kill my lawn, it's kind of hard to be upset with Mother Nature.

I kind of feel that if my neighbors across the street would pick up their leaves at least a couple of times, they all wouldn't blow into my yard.

Anyways, I know this is petty, really. And it is fabulous exercise, so I do try to keep that in mind. Hopefully I won't get tennis elbow like last year where I couldn't raise my arm more than halfway up my body. So, since I am done griping, here is a picture of the first successful, group clean-up of 2008. I even got a neighbor kid to get in on the action. Though he did disappear before the clean-up began. Hmmm, how did that happen?

Split the House?

Heather Dorsey — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 04:44:00 GMT

Well, here's something you don't see every day...

According to an Associated Press story, a couple in Cambodia divorced and the husband took his half of the house, albeit in bits and pieces. That's certainly thinking outside the box. I guess he gets points for creativity.

As Forrest Gump would say, "that's all I have to say about that."

Pilin' up.

Heather Dorsey — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 18:17:21 GMT

Piles on the counter and on the office floor, and just when you think it's not possible--there's more!

Stuff for school, junk from the mail, postcard flyers advertising a sale!

Coupons, receipts, articles on how-to, costume ideas for the day we say "boo!"

Permission slips, patches for uniform rips, rosters for soccer and volleyball, carpool schedules for one and all.

Deadlines, meetings, bills, bills, bills--my contribution to the local landfill.

Everything kept out--in plain sight--file it and you may forget overnight.

Leave it out so you can see what needs to be done with less difficulty.

To-do lists, box-tops clipped...I toss, I sort, I file and purge. I just want to toss everything; but I resist the urge.

Thank you's, post cards, cute kid pix...some fit on the refrigerator door; but if you manage to find enough room, soon there will be more.

The weekly "what's up!" they get from school to help them learn the Golden Rule.

Reminders of upcoming tests, order forms for girl scout vests.

Oh! And the most confusing part...what to do with all the art?

Water colors, oil prints, cray-pas, crayons, self-portraits, flowers, a Japanese fan.

Alright, o.k. I'm finally done, my house is clean my work is done. I'm all pile-free and feeling proud. So much so, I shout out loud.

My label maker is out of labels, my piles are removed from the kitchen table. I'll try to remain pile-free as best as I am able.

Fifteen a minutes a day is all "they" say, to keep my home looking just this way.