Today is exchange day. The girls go back to their dad's for two weeks and I go on to Maryland to see my hubby.

I miss him desperately, and I shall miss my girls the same.
The only saving grace is the knowledge that when my youngest graduates, this will end. That is 5 more years from now.

I will be coming back for a stop in NY this upcoming weekend to watch my baby's play. I will be bringing my step daughter and her best friend with me, from there we shall hop to Canada to see Niagara Falls, then back to MD once again.

I will be stopping tonight to stay at mom and dads. MD is a 9 hour ride and they are located at a 2 hour point. It is a blessing to see them once a month. Perhaps there I will find a subject to my next post.

I have read a couple of blogs that stated that a lot of people have gotten away from reading. That makes me sad.

I have an extensive library. My books range in all genre. I am forever trying to expand my world. Fact, Fiction, Science Fiction, biographies, studies and self helps, to mention a few. I have complete or vast collections of some authors.
I do not read harlequins or simplistic romances, I have nothing against them, I just feel reading for me is a priveledge. I do enjoy a romantic mystery and time novels.

I don't purchase a book for it's popularity, I purchase it for it's contents. I love old private book stores, and big public ones.
I will tell you that a book draws me in, I feel the emotions, I rehearse the lines in my head if they intrigue or encourage me, and I become the characters. When I have completed a book, I sometimes set it down and feel a sense of loss, and it momentarily saddens me to have reached the end.

When I was penniless I shopped bargain bins or private sales. I also did the library thing. I remember I found an old writer, she wrote mysteries set in the old English countryside mostly. I had read the whole collection they had of her books and was searching hard for another set to read. I stumbled on one and was delighted, the writings I felt was similar to Victoria Holt's. I return the following week to get the next book and mentioned the new author Penelope (last name eludes me) was just as intriguing as Victoria. She laughed and said it was her original pen name!

Books were how I traveled and became another growing up. They gave me the ability to learn etiquette, to understand others and to look beyond the cover in people. Content is what is important!
I have taught and raised my girls on books. We have read through so many books and repeated the favorites. It has increased their memories, their imagination and their vocabulary.

I consider many books a memory, the authors are friends although I have yet met them. I was going to list some of my favorites but I would leave some out and it would bother me. I have no favorite, it is impossible. So many times in my life they were my refuge and my guide to learn and travel, to be more through another's eyes.
So when I read that so many don't read, I can only think how sad I would be if I couldn't.

My daughter arrived home from her senior trip.
Yes, a Carribean Cruise to the Bahamas.
She danced, layed in the sun, bought tons of gifts for all the family (Generous, generous, generous girl), swam in the blue waters, and inspected the coral reefs, all this in the company of her best friends. What a great memory and a kick off to life.
So now my sunny baby has come home with adventurous tales and wonderful pictures.
Here is the picture of her and her best friends the night of the Captain's dinner.
She is third from the left, and just for kicks I will give you their nicknames, which they are known as in all circles.
Left to right:

Ika: (Jessica is her real name, people called her Jess, these goofs decided to give the second half of her name more credit)

Mizu: Which means 'water' in Japenese. This is based on her favorite fiction super hero -Sailor Mercury- character in grade school.

Toast: (my child) This started from a long silly story, bottom line, Sarah wanted a best friend like the one on the show Blossom, named Six. Julie said she would be Six, and said goofing around that she wanted one named Toast, well it stuck for the last 8 years. EVERYONE knows my kid by Toast. When she was taking French, she was French Toast for a while. *shrugs*

Julie: Sarah's ever Best friend, see above.

K C: -Kasey- *self explanatory*

My middle child has always given me life in a different aspect. I truly enjoy how she views things and her humor is completely unique.
She is a left handed dyslexic, perhaps that is why. All I know is that she has shed light in my life that I otherwise would have never seen.

Ashli's outlook on Santa.
(See, I never taught the 'Be good, Santa is watching thing' because they needed to trust me no matter what and a little lie for me was too big. I taught the girls first and foremost the birthday celebration of Christ and the story of Saint Nick. )
So, when I took the girls to see Santa, this was the conversation that took place when she was 3.
Standing in line to see Santa Clause:
Ashli: Mommy. I am not sitting on his lap dis time.
Me: Why not baby?
Ashli: cuz he is a man that I don't know, you said not to.
Me: Oh, well, okay then...Let's go throw a penny in the fountain and you can wish for what you want, works just a good.
~That is exactly what we did.

I never took the girls trick or treating. I don't like the holiday and we never felt the loss because I always opted to find something new and fun to do that night with the girls, thus making it our time. The first year that they were with their dad, he had them for the day, and he took them trick or treating, although he had agreed with me in prior years. I decided not to be negative, and really just let them say when they wanted.
Ashli was 8 and had her own thoughts:
Ashli: We went trick or treating.
Me: I heard, did you have fun?
Ashli: It was weird.
Me: Because you never did it before?
Ashli: No because all your life you are told "don't take candy from strangers" then we knocked on all the stranger's doors and begged for it.
Me: *doing everything I can not to fall on the floor in a fit of giggles* You know, that's a very good point.
~ Ashli had her own reasons.

As a baby Ashli never learned to crawl. (typical of dyslexic babies. She scooted aound on her bottom, she walked on her own at 9 months, that was insane. My first did it at 15 moths and my youngest at 11 but this was way early!)
She always felt insecure in a 'large' world, confined places made her more secure. She discovered 'her' laundry basket at a year old and played, watched tv and visited with family from it for years. Some felt I was wrong allowing this but I never really worried, she came out when it was necessary.
We all have our baskets.

The earphones are tight and the chair was tall, so tall my feet dangled in space. I am in a booth, a plain one, tan, four walls and one window, that’s it. They could have at least hung a poster. I hear a noise in the earphone, he was speaking, the doctor that my parents found. He had a funny mustache, curly on the end. I don’t know what he is trying to tell me so I sit still. They will tell me again if it is necessary. The words make sense this time; he wants me to repeat anything he says from now on. I nod. I can see him in the window now with a microphone. He waves. I wave.
I hear something. Is it a word? I try to figure out what he is saying. It is like a puzzle sometimes. I listen carefully, I am close to it, but another word comes. I try to form this one and lose the first one, my head hurts. I am going to sound stupid if I don’t speak soon. He repeats it, this time I hear it. “Hotdog,” I say aloud. I am happy, but no time to rejoice as another word comes. I try to form it on my tongue, I can’t. I begin chewing my lips. I do this when I fear failure. My fingers tuck a loose strand of my hair from my ponytail behind my ear. “Superman,” I repeat. The funny tingle runs through me again. Then a few more words come, they are clearer. I can say them now.
My eight-year-old mind scrambles to keep up again as parts of the word fades. Parts no longer coming through again. Why do they go away sometimes I ask myself? My blue sneakers bang against the stool legs as sounds come out and tease me. I know they are words, but they hide from me, just giving me little bits to let me know something is there.
The man opens the door and I look to him, he doesn’t speak now, the adults always stop talking after awhile. He waves his hand for me to come out. I am relieved to be done and yet scared that I failed something, someone.
He hands me a lollipop. I am embarrassed but take it. I’ll give it to my little brother later. My parents come in and I can leave now. The door closes and I walk over and sit in a chair. I look around; the walls are bare, except for a window. I look beside me and an older lady is there, she is talking to me I think, I nod as I chew my lips and my feet bang against the chair legs.

Reflecting on this memory I remember how things were small and confined in my world. I was between the hearing and deaf world, and without technology I would have been lost to it, but the results came back and the doctors found that with some minor operations I would be able to hear normally, with the exception of a few tones.
In school I was cooperative, kind and labeled a daydreamer. One of the teachers moved me to the front of the class and took note that I wasn't hearing many things. This was how my loss was discovered.
My dad felt bad, he is hearing impaired, his one ear has always been deaf from childhood and his right is no where perfect so we learned to talk in louder voices at home, thus my deafness was not discovered.
I can recall that after the operations the world was filled with all these missing sounds. Bees did buzz, refridgerators made a hum, fans a whirr and jets high up were actually not soundless. I spent many of my waking hours finding the source for new noises, right down to someone chewing gum nearby.
I still struggle some as I have some hearing loss to this day, minor infractions really. I have 75% of my hearing after years of operations. I had a relapse in my late 20's where I lost my hammer in one ear and half of my tubes closed in the other, I lost the ability to talk on the telephone for 6 months, but corrective surgery brought most of it back. I can only be grateful.
My father won't put captian on the television, I have no problem with it. He insists on just turning it up louder. When he visited last he had the volume at an extreme rate, I came in and said "dad, can you hear it?" He says, "I like this movie but I can't understand it." I then informed him that he had it on a spanish channel, he then says, "Well that's okay, I seen it before," and continued to finish the movie at the same rate.