Last week I had a Skype session with Keri Jaehnig of Idea Girl Media. We went to school in Michigan before we both moved away. Naturally our conversation took on the what-do-you-like-where-you’re-at-now direction.
I sipped my sweet tea and listened as she told me about her new digs, and I thought, surely I could come up with at least five things to like about Ohio. Can’t I?
Let’s test this theory . . .
5. Ohio State University. I mean the colors alone are worth loving this Big Ten university. Am I right? Red and white. It just screams Christmas all year ’round. Don’t get me wrong, though. I live for the yearly battle against UM. I’ll forever be maize and blue. As my friend Cyle and I discussed at Blue Ridge, ’tis far, far better to be from Ohio and drive north to Michigan for schooling, than it is to be from Michigan and head south of the border.
Santa or Ohio? I get confused . . .
4. Buckeyes. Not to be confused with edible chestnuts, buckeyes are “moderately toxic”. Your stomach will not be your friend if you ingest these lookalikes. Buckeye trees once populated Ohio’s lands, and were made even more popular during William Henry Harrison’s 1840 Presidential campaign. That’s cool. I’m just a fan of that dark brown hue.
Chestnuts or Buckeyes?
3. Fireflies (Lightning Bugs). During summer breaks, we would drive south to visit family in Toledo. We loved starting the trip at dusk, as thousands of lightning bugs lit up the fields. I couldn’t find a decent firefly photo, but here’s an awesome firefly in a jar craft that Dot and I did several years ago.
Fireflies in a Jar (Craft)
2. Cedar Point. This amusement park is home to one of America’s largest Ferris wheels. I’ve never been on the Giant Wheel and given my fear of heights and propensity for quick-onset vertigo, it’s a good chance I never will. Still, I have many marvelous summer memories of my times at Cedar Point, from the amazing food venues to my first roller coaster, Blue Streak.
Cedar Point Giant Wheel
1. But the best reason to like Ohio (and you can’t tell me y’all didn’t see this one coming), is that the longest it will take you is about five hours to get from the southern most part of Ohio up to Michigan.
The Mitten of Michigan.
And there you have it. Five reasons why this former Michigander will always like Ohio.
So, what do you like best about your neck of the woods?
Hello. Have you missed us? Because we miss you. We’d like to think our absence has been noticed, and not that we’ve been replaced.
It’s costly to come see you, but that’s our goal this year. Once the economy settles and our personal finances allow, we hope to once again stop under your famed arch.
Disneyland Arch
To my family – that is, just Dot and myself – Disneyland is so much more than a place to visit. It’s like coming home. There’s a feeling, an atmosphere, an aroma that captures us once we churn through the gate and get our hands stamped. I always have to stop for just a moment. I have to regain my heartbeat and catch my breath. And without a conscious thought, any stress I brought in with me is magically removed. I forget to think about work or chores or outside drama. I find myself smiling like a child: carefree and in awe.
We’ve been lucky enough in the past to spend family vacations within your Resort. We’ve also possessed Annual Passes. But that seems a lifetime ago, before the woes of the world snuck in and changed things.
We never lose hope that this is the year we’ll climb back on top and once again be able to be in your presence.
Because you are Magical.
The Three Fairies
And no matter how often we visit, there is always a mix of the familiar with the new. We never fail to ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. To Dot’s dismay, this is one of only two roller coasters that I’ll enjoy. (The other being Gadget’s Go Coaster).
Of course, we have to eat at both the French Market in New Orleans Square, and Rancho del Zocalo in Frontierland. One good meal a day is all we need to supplement the endless supply of snackbars and popcorn stands. We appreciate the healthy fruit choices, too. A cold bottle of water and a juicy orange really keeps us satisfied.
And the Character Dining? Seriously?! How awesome are you to have thought that one up! Food and fun for all, all at once? You make it so easy to play with our food, especially the Mickey-shaped waffles at breakfast!
Dessert Platter at Disneyland’s Ariel’s Grotto
We’ve experienced Goofy’s Kitchen, Plaza Inn, and Ariel’s Grotto. I’m desperate for the Storyteller’s Cafe. I’m saving that experience for the Dream Vacation (more on that later!).
Disneyland is the place we can bring Grandma for a leisurely day filled with glorious singing birds in the Tiki Room and majestic history at Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.
Painting in Disneyland’s Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln
Disneyland is where we go to meet up with friends for special occasions. Or, just because we can.
The Pirate Pose
You make it possible.
Disneyland is inspirational. The story of Walt Disney encourages me daily.
Walt’s Bench at Disneyland
Walt’s Bench
Disney Dream
When I think I can’t write or get published, I think of Disney. And I know anything is possible. And when I hear “no” I keep trying. Because Walt did. And Disneyland does.
You’re so much more than a park.
You are one of the reasons I love Carousels. It’s never ridiculous for adults to find as much joy and amazement as the little children do while riding their steeds on King Arthur’s Carousel.
Fantasyland, Tomorrowland, Mickey’s Toontown, Adventureland, Critter Country, Frontierland… but my favorite is Main Street, U.S.A. It’s where the journey begins. It’s where all roads lead to Mickey.
The Man and The Mouse
And let’s not forget about Disney’s California Adventure right across the walkway. So many wonderfully magical moments await us there. A Bug’s Land is kid-sized but a place for people of all ages. California Soarin’ is a ride that scared This scared-of-heights Girl with it’s hang-gliding sensations so intense that I can’t wait to go back for another thrill.
Downtown Disney is another experience unto itself. The World of Disney, Marceline’s Confectionery and Disney Vault 23 are just a few of our favorite stores. When Dot was younger Build-a-bear was a must-do on our list (Don’t tell anyone this, but since I’m a teddy bear collector, for me it still is!).
Oh, yes, Disneyland. We miss you very much!
You’ve surprised us with chance encounters. That time I scheduled a trip and you called to let me know it coincided with the premiere of Pirates of the Caribbean. How we were in the right place at the right time to get a hello from Orlando Bloom and a wink from Johnny Depp.
Premiere of Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
And when we stayed with you that time when just down the street, one of my favorite authors was doing a book signing!
Stephen Cannell & I
Yes, Disney. You’ve truly been there for us.
I almost forgot one of the best parts: The Grand Californian Hotel & Spa. This is where Dot and I last vacationed, back in 2010. Knowing it would most likely be our last family vacation for quite a while, we opted to splurge. No longer a young child, Dot was looking for something a bit more sophisticated. The Grand Californian offered us not only the exquisite relaxation we needed, but the Disney experience we craved. I even created my bedroom in homage to that wonderful weekend!
Mini-suite at the Disneyland Grand Californian Hotel & Spa
My Disney-inspired Bedroom
We miss you, Disneyland. We miss you like a best friend and like a home-cooked meal after a hard day. We miss you like our cheerleader and confidante and a welcome hug.
We miss your coffee and your rides and your behind-the-scenes tours and your up-front-and-personal characters. We miss every ounce of you.
You’ve seen us through difficult times and great accomplishments. You’ve encouraged us to keep trying, and celebrated our successes. When we feel a bit let down or left out, you never disappoint.
And that is why, Dear Disneyland, we are striving to find our way back to you.
So. Y’all know I’m a Trekaroo Superoo, right? I get to write reviews for family-friendly based activities, restaurants, and destinations. I’m loving it. I haven’t received a sponsored assignment yet, but I’m so okay with that. Because I love writing reviews. Even if they’re based out of my own little town.
Another reason I love Trekaroo is the giveaways they offer every week with their Monday Madness. This week is no different. But it is. This week is a doozy. A week-long stay at a west coast timeshare through ResorTime.com.
Now, I’m not affiliated with this giveaway. Which is good. ‘Cuz I’m trying to win. Which would be good. ‘Cuz then I could review the experience. It’s a win-win-win. But that’s just me being selfish. I’d love for you to win instead, if you want to give it a try.
Can you find your way to Hawaii? Las Vegas? Sedona or Scottsdale or Carlsbad? Do you need a week away from it all with the ones you love the most?Sometimes you just need a break. Can you see yourself sitting poolside while the kids play, or sitting with the family all around the picnic table enjoying your own BBQ?
Then y’all need to check this out. Click on my Superoo badge above or below this post and you can read Katie Dillon’s Trekaroo Contest post. Full of information about the timeshares and plennnnty of chances to enter for your own vacation. [Disclaimer: by entering through my link, I get a bonus entry. So thank you. But truly, good luck! If I don’t win, I hope you do!]
Don’t forget to share your own link so you can earn bonus entries, too!
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
TheRealMojo68
You can read all my Trekaroo reviews here: RealMojo68
There’s a plethora of news articles discussing poverty as it relates to society as a whole. There are Government studies, prejudices, and surveys. There are misconceptions, stereotypes, classes to educate those in the throes, assistance programs that help (or don’t), and people fighting every day to overcome the odds.
Let me be very clear at this point: I am not a statistic.
My Social Media brand states quite simply, “I’m a Christian. Writer. Mom. Single. Daughter. Friend. Worker. Chef. Believer.” I’m also a baseball nut, coffee drinker, Disney lover, cat owner. I’m sympathetic, empathetic and at times extremely temperamental. At no point have I ever been a statistic.
I am a person. My home is where I live and where I raise a family. We are not charts on a piece of paper or a spread-sheet column.
The very first thing you should understand about me is that I am blessed. I believe in God, I have felt His hand upon my daily moments and I know without Him I would be lost. I am poor by the world’s standards, but definitely not by His.
Trying to live up to the world’s idea of how my life should be is utterly exhausting. Working long hours while running a household can be overwhelming. And so rewarding.
I am deeply bothered by the stigma that my life brings to me and my daughter. I’m often overwhelmed at the inconsideration pushed upon us for lack of funds. I’ve prayed and thought long and hard about writing this post. There are some things that private. And then there are times when my voice may be the only voice someone hears. For others who can’t speak for themselves.
Poverty is not One Size Fits All or even Most. Poverty is deeply personal, intimate, and unique to each person. Not each family. Each. Person.
This is my story.
This is by no means a complaint against the world. Nor is it a cry for help. It’s not meant to take away any other person’s individuality or be thrown to the masses. This is simply My Story. Or at least the parts of it I can share.
I can’t say I was born into poverty. I think maybe I was, myself and my brothers. But we didn’t know different. Dad worked hard for income, Mom worked hard at keeping a home. At some point in my youth, both worked. We all came together for dinner around the table. We went to school, did our homework and worked our chores. We played games. We talked. We went to Church. We were a family. When my brothers were each old enough, they found part-time jobs to supplement their own pocket cash. I babysat the kids across the street. We didn’t know what poverty was.
We had a clean house. Home cooked meals. We didn’t know we were poor. We knew we didn’t always have as much as the kids down the block. But we always had more than we needed. And we were okay with that.
When I was 13, my dad passed away. Mom chose to move us closer to her sister, also a widow. Thus we transplanted from Michigan to California. My mom has always been an extremely strong, hard worker. If we were in Laura Ingalls’ days, she’d be known as a Pioneer Woman. When there’s a problem, she finds a solution. Even though the word “No” is often a part of our vocabulary, the word “Can’t” rarely is. Her home is immaculate. Her yard is landscaped. She’s always found a way to take care of what needs taking care of. I am very proud of my mom, and just as proud that my daughter inherited that same “Can-Do” spirit. We are not poor people. We are just people in poor circumstances.
We live in the largest county in America. Currently, our unemployment rate averages between 12 and 14%. That means one in seven people who used to work or can work, is not working. That doesn’t take into consideration the dependents that person is responsible for: a spouse, child, or other dependent. I don’t like the game people play with these numbers.
I’m blessed to have a job. I work 35 hours a week. It’s not much, but it’s honest work. It feels good to have a job I can go to. A place where I can contribute back to society and be a part of the outside world. I enjoy paying bills. I do! I like the feeling of writing out checks and buying my own groceries and putting gas in the car. I don’t like knowing that the payments I make aren’t always enough. I don’t like the calls I get each day asking me for money I don’t have.
But I like that each week, the calls are fewer. I like that each payday, I can afford to put just a little more money toward paying off the smallest debt. And maybe next payday, a little more. It’s not easy and there are often times when I’m unable to do anything more than the minimum payments… and sometimes not even that. It’s embarrassing. And that’s a stigma I face a lot. The stigma that being in poverty carries an attitude of apathy.
I want to be self-sufficient. I’m not there yet. I don’t know that I ever will be. But I’m learning a lot on this journey. I’m learning every day. How to cook differently. How to juggle a budget where the outgo always exceeds the income. How to get by for less than what society tells me I need. And how to ask for help when I really need it.
I’m blessed with a wonderful support system. I have family and friends and church and community. I’m not alone. I have people. My people. People who come alongside me to lighten the load however they can. A grandpa who constantly teaches Dot maintenance and farming. My mom who shares cooking secrets. My boss consistently trains me to be better at my job, and gives me opportunities to grow and not be just the stagnant front-desk person. I have people who see me through my struggles. And, yes. I have struggles. Who doesn’t? But I don’t struggle with life. There are worse things than not paying off debt in a timely manner.
For my family, Poverty is a matter of perspective.
My yard is still 90% dirt. That’s not because we’re poor. That’s because I live in the desert. That’s because I don’t know gardening. But I’m learning. Some day, my yard will be completely landscaped. For now, we’re taking it one square foot at a time.
I still treat Dot to the occasional pizza or Starbucks. We need that treat once in a while. When I was growing up, Mom had this saying on a bookmark:
“If, of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft, And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left, Sell one & from the dole, Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul” – Muslihuddin Sadi,
13th Century Persian Poet
I remember asking her what that meant. She smiled as she told me, it’s another way of saying “Man cannot live by bread alone.” There must be more to life than physical needs. We must also take care of our spirit, our soul, our emotions.
Imagine my delight when in the first Spring of my somewhat fixer-upper home I discovered Hyacinth growing in my front yard.
Grape Hyacinth
We all need a time of refreshment. Being in poor circumstances no longer allows us the luxury of Disney passes or even a weekend getaway. My mom has another great wall hanging in her kitchen. It reads
Do What You Can Where You Are With What You Have.
And that’s why I still try to make time for Family Game Nights. Why we scrimp and save for our Girl Dates to Starbucks or McDonald’s. That’s why a 40-minute drive to Casey’s Cupcakes and the Mission Inn every few months isn’t indulgent ~ it’s necessary!
Because I refuse to let my daughter think she lives in poverty. Because she doesn’t. Because poverty is a temporary disposition that I refuse to settle into comfortably, and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure she doesn’t know what she’s missing.
I believe this poverty is temporary. I refuse to be a societal statistic.
I admit it. I got frustrated yesterday. Really frustrated.
I know I shouldn’t. I know I should revel in this Something Good that is my new job and a clean house… but I almost lost my temper. I definitely lost my Happy Place.
I discovered that I’m doing myself a disservice. Frankly, My Dear… is nearly two years old. And since August 1, 2011, I have blogged every.single.day. Sometimes, more than once.
In the beginning, when it was about social fiascoes and gaining confidence, it didn’t matter how trite my posts were. Or so I thought. But the more I wrote, the more I had to say. The more important it became to say it well.
And yesterday, my frustrations grew as I realized for about a month now, I’ve not written the way I want to continue to write.
Yes, November and December are always my busy season. Dot’s birthday. Holidays. And this year… a day job! Very exciting stuff. Very exciting, keep-me-on-my-toes stuff. Very exciting, keep-me-on-my-toes-and-holding-my-breath busy stuff.
It dawned on me… I need some R&R. I need to stop this “need” to write, and write when I have something to say. So that’s what I’m going to do.
Don’t worry. It’s just for a short time. For the week between Christmas and New Year’s, Frankly, My Dear… will be on vacation. We may check in from time to time. Run a few ideas past you. After all, I can’t just cut writing out cold-turkey!
Between now and then, I’ll post every day. A vacation is only a vacation when it’s a direction away from something else. If I quit writing now, what kind of vacation is that?
Come to think of, this all consuming day-job is a vacation from my unemployment. Hey, I like that! It’s a good job. I’m still learning the office procedures and rejoicing when glitches are generated from the Home Office system and not because I forgot to do something like hit the enter button. My budget is slowly balancing itself. Actually, it’s more of a teeter-totter; but now and then it levels off.
I need to focus on my job. And my bigger writing projects. My correspondence course. And better blogging. Guess what!
I’m not SuperWoman. Surprised? I am!
So this frustrating revelation led to a better outlook. Instead of remaining frustrated, I’m taking a vacation. I’ll give myself the end of this year to plot out Something Good for next year! Better blog posts. More advertising. Maybe a day trip or two with Mutti and Dot.
Definitely more recipes and writing. And positively a better budget. More reading! And making better use of my lunch hour for such things.
Yup. I just need to regroup, make a schedule, close my eyes, and listen to… nothing. Just for a few days.
I’d invite you to come along… but I think that defeats the purpose…
I’m learning to just be still. And keep my eyes closed. Sometimes it’s just as hard to not see the world, as it is to pay attention.
