Small Town Takeover

When you're here, you're home.
The Red Barn restaurant

Not everyone lives in a small town. Those of us that do know both the up and the downsides to small town life. The perks are huge. People know your dogs, your kids, and are always looking out for their well being. There are lots of community events, both at the schools and through the town hall, that are either free, or that benefit some aspect of the town. 

I've noticed that, lately, things here are starting to change. Our post office is nothing like what it used to be. Just a year ago, it was a place where people talked as they waited in line, where the clerks knew the locals and would talk to them about their lives, asking how they've been, and sharing stories. I knew that when my letter crossed the desk and went into a bin, it was in good hands.

Now, though they still manage PO boxes and take mail, our mail goes to a neighboring town where it's sorted and put on the truck to go to Newark. It used to be that when I'd send mail in town, it would be there the very next day. It went from my hands to the post office and then out for delivery. Now, it leaves and goes to the neighboring post office, and then to Newark? Ridiculous, and what a waste of gas. While it would be just as easy for me to drop at a friend's house, I like the idea of sending stamped, postmarked mail, and it saddens me to know that, despite my efforts to save our post office, this has happened. I miss my old mail carrier, Rob, who stood with me while I was on the phone with my doctor waiting to see if I had a brain tumor, and who hugged me as I cried tears of relief and said, "I'm okay". I miss going into the PO building and listening to Ferdie sing, or chat with Gabi as she would go through my packages. Alas, the wheels are in motion.

There are other things that could slip into the same role, if we don't pay attention, and I think it's important that we guard them. Our police department currently has dispatch (I think) during the day, but on the off hours, our calls go to another town, 20 minutes away. This was done in an effort to save money. I miss calling and asking who's on, when I have a less than emergency call but just need a little help. Fortunately for us, our police officers are still widely available and helpful, and have an active knowledge of our community. They talk to the kids as they walk home from school, and are sure to be familiar with residents in town. On Halloween, the town closes streets to car traffic so that kids can walk without worry while trick or treating. The police are here to help redirect lost children, answer questions, and let the kids know that they are here for them.

We have a great pharmacy here, too, that's independently owned. The pharmacy, Preston Drugs, will deliver your prescriptions to your home (or your car, if you prefer) so you don't need to get out in bad weather or if you are sick. Still, people choose to go to big box pharmacies, which I don't understand. Now that A&P is closing, the opportunity for people to move their prescriptions to a local, smaller drugstore is available (don't allow them to transfer to Walgreen's just because they'll do it for you, please). Preston has a tab on their website that will help you transfer your prescriptions. Another local option is Main Pharmacy in Boonton. Though I am not familiar with it, it's been in town forever and is a favorite of many locals.

Small shops are what keeps the American dream alive. Say what you will about that dream being dashed -- I know what you are thinking -- but this is still our country and we have the power to make big changes.

Instead of going to chain restaurants, go to indie owned places. We have some great restaurants around here, including Hapgood's in Mountain Lakes, The Reservoir Tavern (locally known as the Res) in Parsippany, Matta Donna in Boonton, and both The Red Barn (breakfast and lunch) and 900* in Towaco.  Rather than shopping online or at the mall, take your business to great places like Simplify Marketplace, which is owned by ML resident Beth Moran. They have pretty much everything you'll ever need, including home goods, personalized stationary, hand made items, jewelry, accessories, Laker apparel, and baked goods. In Denville, you can get home goods and ladies' apparel at two shops on the same block, owned by the Olenowski sisters: Surprises In Store, and Sisters. For footwear, I personally love Shoe & Sneaker Barn (also in Denville). The point is that there are so many opportunities to support our small towns that it would be silly not to. 

And finally, if you are able, please mail cards! Notes, birthday greetings, holiday greetings. Maybe our post office is changing, but let's not allow the art of letter writing/card sending fall by the wayside.

It's so important to nurture and support the places and people that bring joy to your life. Look around and see what it is that you love about the place that you live, then be sure to put your attention there. It's truly the little things, that we sometimes overlook, that we would miss the most if they were gone. Be proactive and keep them strong. Shop local.

Before Sunrise

I've never been a morning person. Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you (fearfully) that it's true. After giving birth to my son, people were convinced that I'd get up early. The baby would force it. Babies get up early, they said.  My son is my only child, so I had the luxury of sleeping when he slept. The house went to pot, but I was a well-rested mother. While I would be forced to wake up early, I'd nap with the baby, every few hours, so it didn't matter much. When he gave up his naps, I began putting him to bed at 11 p.m. so he (we) could sleep 'til mid morning. 

When he started nursery school, I put him in the half day classes that started at noon. Same for kindergarten. First grade was rough for both of us, with an 8 a.m. homeroom bell, and he was late more often than he was on time. Slowly, I adjusted and got up, fed my son, and got him to school. It was no easy task and it's not been pretty.

All these years later, our two dogs need an early morning walk each day. My husband has taken on the duties of that walk, citing my angry morning demeanor as the reason he'll lose sleep to get it done. I'm up to take my son to school, but the dogs want to go out before we leave, so it would require me getting up an extra half hour early.

It wasn't until this weekend that I decided it was time for me to put my big girl pants on and start waking up earlier. It was a tough choice, because it means that I will be going to bed before my husband gets home, which cuts into our couple's time. I've tried to wait up at night for my husband, who works until nearly midnight, but in that circumstance, both of us are exhausted, and it's just not healthy.

Setting this alarm was tougher than it was for me to wake up to it.

I told him it was time that I start getting up to walk the dogs. He was hesitant. No way did he want to deal with me, grumpy, each morning. Begging him to give me a chance, I told him I'd go to bed early so that I wasn't mean and exhausted in the a.m. He agreed to give it a shot.

Last night, Night One, I was in bed by 10 p.m. and falling asleep close to 11. It was a major change and boy, am I tired. But I did it. It was nice. The sun was just coming up, during the dogs' walk, and the day felt fresh. I woke twice during the night, at 3:30 a.m. and nearly 5, probably because my body has gotten so used to so little sleep. Ironically, I was surprised that I didn't oversleep, and that it took until late afternoon for me to feel, well, exhausted. 

My husband got the opportunity for a full 8 1/2 hours sleep, which made me feel like a better wife, knowing that he isn't sacrificing his sleep; our time together (though a little less) was wonderful. He was productive, not exhausted, and we both seemed to be more present.

Tonight is Night Two, and I am hoping that my commitment to the early to bed mentality remains strong. 

Are you a morning person? Getting into the groove isn't easy, so I'd love to hear your tips for happy morning wake-ups.

Cost < Reward

Kids aren't cheap. We all know this. In the past two weeks, I've spent more money on compression shorts, pants, and both long and short sleeved Nike Pro apparel for my son than I care to tally. Tonight I didn't have to do the math; the tally was presented to me by the Dick's cashier who asked if I wanted to charge the whooping $165 I'd racked up on the few items I bought for my son's cross country meet tomorrow. (It's going to be cold, so we needed long everything.)

After leaving Dick's, I stopped into the grocery store to buy him a 12-pack of Horizon single serve chocolate milk cartons (his post-run beverage that he shares with his friends), some Clif bars, and string cheese. While checking out, I requested a measly $20 in cash back, asking the cashier if she could give me a ten and two fives. She looked bothered at the thought of breaking it down as per my request. "If I have it in the drawer" she snipped. I apologetically (and sort of casually) explained that it was for my son to have at his meet tomorrow, in the event that he wanted to buy a snack. "If I give him a twenty, he'll spend the whole thing," I said.

It struck her, a mother's plight. She started to talk about how costly it is to raise kids. She didn't say this with anger or resentment, but from a place of knowledge. She explained that she is the mother of four children, and she works two jobs just to pay for their college tuitions, and to live. Her eldest daughter finished medical school and is currently an internist, her second youngest son is now starting the master's part of his medical degree. She has one son in the military, and one who is going to County (she pulled him out of his original university, despite his scholarship, after seeing that he was partying too much and fearing for his well-being). She told me that she recently said to her son, the one that's in med school, that once he gets a job, he and his sister (the other doctor) will have to take care of her financially, because she's sick of working two jobs. She said this with a laugh. It was clear that she'd do anything for her kids. In fact, she already has.

The job of a parent is a big, important one.

There are many parents I know who put themselves before their children. They take money that would be used for their kids, and put it towards the things that they want for themselves. They choose to do things socially that sacrifice the time they have with their children. They believe that it's their time to live their lives. But what about their kids, the ones who need to be raised and guided? When people choose to have children, they should commit to raising them for 18 years, being present and available. In the grand scheme of things, it's a short period of time. Those 18 years of raising (the good, the bad, and the plain old gnarly) are a gift that we, as parents, are fortunate to have. Our kids will grow up, move out, and have their own life, just like we do. We want them to answer our phone calls, choose to visit, and most importantly, to look back fondly at their childhood.

What could possibly be more important than that?

When Thinking Pink Means More Than Jumping On the Bandwagon

You don't want to wait until you find a lump in your breast to get a mammogram. If you haven't gone for your mammogram, you are from one of two schools of thought: it won't happen to me, or it will happen to me and I don't want to know.

I understand. At 44, I took my mammogram script and put it in my purse, where it quickly got swallowed up by the vast mess of papers, receipts, and wrappers. I was engaged, and that took precedence over a mammo appointment, in my mind. It was forgotten.

I once 'boobicon'ed my Facebook profile picture in support of breast cancer awareness.
Getting a mammogram would have been more proactive.

The following year (this year), I went for my annual exam, got another script, and lost it in the same way that I lost the previous year's script. I knew, though, that I needed to get my mammogram, so I called the office to get another one, this time with my married name on the script.

I sat on it for a few weeks. I'd get the mammo done, I would. But the thought of scheduling it, making time for the appointment, taking a shower and not putting on lotion or deodorant... such a pain to deal with. That is, until I found a lump.

I was getting out of bed, and the right side of my right breast felt tender and sore. Being post-menopausal, I knew it wasn't premenstrual breast tenderness, or a clogged milk duct, but it felt like that kind of pain. I put my hand to the soreness and whoosh, there it was. A lump.

Wait. What? This could not be. I just had a breast exam three months ago. And yet.

I freaked. I woke my husband up. "Feel" I said. "There's a lump." And when he nodded yes and said "It's probably a cyst", I started to cry. He felt it, too. It was real.

Breast cancer awareness month was approaching, which ironically only made matters worse. Everywhere, there were stories about lumps and prevention, both good and bad stories, and I just wanted to know that I was okay. I'm okay, right?

I called the imaging center immediately for an appointment, but when they heard I had a lump, they wouldn't book it. They told me that I needed a script for an ultrasound, as well as the mammogram script. "So when you call with a lump, you can't get in for a mammogram?", I asked.  It seems counterintuitive. I called my doctor's office four times before I got a nurse on the phone to ask her for a script for an ultrasound. "I am a 45 year old, post-menopausal woman with a lump. I know that I am not the most pressing or important patient in your office, but I'm scared," I said. The nurse understood and immediately got on it.

My appointment was booked for two weeks from that day. And today the two weeks are up. It's finally time for me to know what's going on. Hopefully, it's nothing, and I'll have learned to put my health first and get that yearly mammogram.

But for now, I don't know what will happen, or what is ahead, and frankly, I am scared. Really, really scared. For the people who think it won't happen to them, I ask, "Then, who?" But I am supported. My husband is nothing short of a saint, and he's always here for me. I have good friends, a few of whom are cancer survivors, all of whom will lend a listening ear. I have a supportive loving family.

And hopefully, I have nothing. Nothing more than a benign cyst. Or lumpy breasts.

But now, I don't know. I won't until I go to my appointment and the radiologist does whatever she does to let my doctor know what's up.

And if it turns out that I am A-OK, I will take my health more seriously, eat better, exercise more. I will advocate for women to get routine mammograms, even if doing so seems to be a pain in the neck. Because while taking the time out to go for a mammogram may be inconvenient, it may also be saving your life.


Note: I am writing this in the hopes that women feel moved to schedule their mammograms, and that they do self-breast exams. I am also sharing my story so that people understand that the process to getting checked sometimes takes drastic findings. I am not writing my story to have people stop me and inquire as to how I am doing, and while I appreciate your concern, I prefer to hear from you via message. Thank you.

The Comfort of Dogs

All the love in the world.

There is something about the love of a dog that is completely unexplainable. It's nothing they do, per say, that is particularly helpful to daily living. They don't talk, or offer words of advice when life's got you down. They require lots of care, their poops must be picked up, and they are always, always, like toddlers.

And yet, when things aren't going well, when you're feeling sad, or frustrated or scared, nothing beats cuddling up with a mutt.

Ah, a life with dogs. Pictured here: Rocco & Sugar.

We've got two. Sugar, a  black lab/American bulldog mix, and Rocco, a jack russell/rat terrier mix. When my son and I rescued Sugar, she was about a year and a half old. Her black fur was thick with dandruff, and she smelled. She had an episode of diarrhea as we were driving her home from her adoption, and she attempted to cover the pile with the few treats we'd given her. At some point in her life, she'd run from her foster home and had been hit by a car, causing her to endure a handful or surgeries for the five months prior to my meeting her. Sugar was terrified of her own shadow. Somehow, she knew we'd take good care of her, and she tried to settle in. She wasn't much of a cuddler, but when I found myself alone at night, she'd come onto the couch where I was sitting, and lay beside me. Slowly, she'd nudge me to the edge of the couch, and I'd hang tight, nosing my face into her warm fur.  Just having her there made me feel safe. Occasionally, she's put her nuzzle onto my lap and sigh. Something about her trusting me made me feel worthwhile and loved.

Sugar's the quiet one.

After a year of Sugar living with us -- only eating when being hand fed raw meat, running from the littlest noise, and pacing the house but never really relaxing unless she was in her crate -- it was brought to my attention that she might need a pal, another dog to help her relax and come out of her shell. I searched Petfinder.com for a dog that seemed like s/he might be a good fit. There were so many cute dogs, and truly, what did I know about finding a pal for Sugar? Her easy going demeanor made it easy for her to get along with any dog, but would any dog be kind to her? I wanted the best fit but had no idea how to find that.

The Petfinder listing that stole my heart. 

After meeting a few dogs, who were rescued before I even had a chance to apply for them, I ended up with Rocco (who was named Bastin, before we changed his name). A little ratter, with the biggest ears I'd ever seen, seemed to be the one. He'd been living in a foster home with 13 other dogs his whole life. So, dog friendly for sure. Ah, what profiles don't tell. He barked and barked and barked, and if anyone tried to pick him up, he gnarled and bit them. But we'd already taken him, and were committed to making it work.

Sugar and Rocco became fast pals. And despite Rocco's (still) incessant barking and occasional grumpy nipping, he's become the furry love of my life. Having both dogs has changed everything. They are entertaining, wonderful to snuggle up to, interesting to watch, and something about their presence simply calms me.

They love each other.

I wish I knew why. I have an amazing husband who is everything to me. He's loving and attentive, and provides an indestructible support for my life. My son, and my three stepchildren, are wonderful bundles of energy, full of stories and laughter. They keep us busy and always make things interesting. But something about those dogs...

When they are jumping at the door, barking at visitors, squirrels, cars, etc., comfort is not the word that comes to mind. Their canine demands are less than inviting. I command them, unsuccessfully, to Shush! then proceed to roll my eyes and wish they would just. be quiet.  And when I am holding both leashes in one hand while using the other to unceremoniously pick poops up off the lawns of neighbors, well, I could live without those moments. But when they look up at me with those sweet wide eyes, mouths agape, tongues wagging, the feeling of complete unconditional love emanates from them.

Wag goes the tongue.

Perhaps that's it. No matter how I look, what kind of mood I am in, or how I'm behaving, my dogs' loyalty is consistent. They always want me to run my hand across their back, tug on their ears, or cuddle up beside them on the couch. It's a total acceptance of who I am, and that is by far the most comforting feeling in the world.

Through the Trees

I wasn't raised to incorporate exercise into my life. Even now, with a gym membership, yoga classes, boot camp, and a town ripe with runners, getting motivated to workout isn't easy. There are people who wake up, hop out of bed and go to the gym, or for a run, and that's how they start their day. Exercise, for that type of person, is as necessary as oxygen.

Most people that I know use exercise as a means to maintain or lose weight, but in truth, proper exercise is beneficial for the body's long term (and even daily) living. We all know this, but since the long term benefits don't satisfy our immediate gratification need, it gets lost in translation.

While visiting Disney World this past spring, my stepdaughter and I both noticed how many overweight people were zipping through the parks in motorized chairs, many of whom had extra large sugary drinks in their hands. It's this very thing that keeps me motivated; the fear of not being able to do things without assistance. I don't know what's ahead for me, regarding my health, but I am going to do my best to lay solid groundwork.

There is an online 30 day squat and plank challenge run by Mirzuk Fitness that I've signed up for, and part of the point of the daily practice is that it takes 30 days to make a habit. While habits can be broken, I am banking on this habit building premise to give my son a more fit life that with which I've been presented.

School was not in session today, and my son had afternoon plans to go into the city with his father to get his ID card for art school. This meant no afternoon cross country practice. I asked his trainer if we could maximize the morning hours by having him run with my son. The location he chose was a county park in town. It's got miles of trails, a great place to run.

The beginning of the path my son ran with his trainer this morning. Total, complete heaven on earth.

While they ran, I did my squat and plank challenge workout, then read a few pages from a book I'm reading for a study group. The park was quiet, with dogs and runners passing only occasionally. Though it was cool, the sun shone down through the trees. I thought about the gift my son has been given, a morning run with his trainer, Jeff Eades, someone who's run ultramarathons and serves as a (very cool) mentor to my son. I hope that, years from now when he is heading out for a run, he'll remember this morning run as the one that got him into the habit.

The Best of You

Life isn't about the finish line, it's about the path you take to get there.

After posting my last blog entry, Keep the Good Ones, Ditch the Rest, I got a slew of messages and comments about the topic. The comments ranged from "I completely agree," to "Lighten up". All of the responses were great because they helped me see the perspective of others, but none changed the way that I feel.

Honoring our lives means many things. It means getting enough sleep, eating healthy foods, exercising, feeling love, having friendships and just enjoying life. It also means, at least to me, minimizing drama as much as possible. I am not filming for a Housewife series, which means I am not getting paid to up ratings by including myself in circles with unhealthy people. On more than one occasion, I've had to make something up and excuse myself from a lunch/dinner/situation where I felt the direction had taken a turn for the worse. I am fast becoming a self-preservationist.

Last week, my close friend asked me to take a seven week TRX group training session with her, at our gym. It was the last thing that I wanted to do (my past TRX experience had been awful), but I agreed to do it because it gives me the opportunity to see her while getting a workout. We've talked while walking beside each other on the treadmill, or while curling dumbbells, but in those situations, the intensity of my work is self-directed (meaning, it's easier to do less). Group training includes a forced push by the trainer, and peer accountability. Today, the group training began. I had a morning packed with things to do, including sending out emails to everyone participating in a fundraiser with which I am involved. One hour before the group training began, my friend sent me a text that read "One hour! Woot woot!" Though I hadn't yet paid, and technically could have backed out, I committed to my friend and told the trainer I'd be there. It was up to me to stay true to my word, even though at that moment it was tough. As I chugged my coffee and scooped back my oatmeal, I thought to myself, "This TRX idea was stupid," and also "I need to get more sleep."

I arrived at the gym, and saw my friend's happy smile when she'd seen that I made it to class. I talked to the trainer about past TRX experience and injuries, and we began. An hour on the clock. It wasn't easy. We warmed up with more squats than I thought humanly possible. I wondered if I'd be sore for yoga tomorrow. I wondered what my husband was doing in the weight room. I wondered if I should drink more water. And then the wondering stop. The work became more difficult, and each accomplished task gave me a feeling of pride. I focused on my body, my muscles, and felt good about the work. This TRX class, as it turns out, was a really good idea.

I got back into yoga in much the same way. My friend Tray had been going for about a year, each week inviting me to join her. While I have always loved yoga, I hadn't practiced for a while and felt uncomfortable getting back on the mat, fat and out of shape. In a moment of weakness - or perhaps strength - I agreed to go, and there it was. I couldn't back out. A year and 30 lbs. lighter, I am fully committed to my twice weekly practice.

Me with my friend Tray, after practicing yoga on the lake together, the morning of my wedding.

It's amazing what happens when you find something that changes the way that you feel, whether it be about your day, your life, or most importantly, yourself. Not only did I get to spend an hour with my friend and work out with her (which is motivating because she is a powerhouse), I also learned that getting back to hard working exercise made me feel good about me.

And that's what yesterday's post was all about. It wasn't about other people being bad or failing me, it was about choosing to create a life that supports me at my best, so that I feel good about myself.


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