Saturday, October 29, 2011

Garage Sale Gotcha

Day 30
Petie from Bellevue, Kentucky, answered the ad. 

“My sister is returning in a few weeks from the Peace Corps and plans to stay with me for a couple months,” she wrote in response to my Craigslist ad listing a twin mattress and frame for sale.  “I am willing to pay more if you can hold it until Saturday.” 

In my mind, Petie was a 20-something guy with a mop of blond hair.  Imagine my surprise when a woman in her 50s pulled into my driveway in a borrowed pickup truck.  I wasn’t all wrong, she did have blond hair.

“This is great.  My sister called to tell me she may be home in a week.”  After her tour in Africa working in an orphanage filled with HIV and AIDS kids, Petie’s sister was decompressing by traveling through eastern Europe. 

“I bet she’s worn out.” I responded.  I can only imagine the emotional and physical toll of a stint in the Peace Corps. 

Petie and I easily loaded the mattress, box and frame into the bed of the truck. 

“Let me get the money.” 

Oh, this was so fun! 

“It’s free!”

“Oh, no.  I’ll get the money.”  

I shook my head no.

“Really?”  I’m finding that shock tends to limit people’s speech.   


When Life Gets Messy, Clean It Up

Day 29
Nine kids, thirteen towels, four lunch trays, nine trick-or-treat bags and eighteen shoes make one colossal mess. 

By the end of the day, we’d successfully put our stamp on our corner at Co Co Key.  We’d pushed several tables and chairs together to make our own little island.  Spilled drinks left sticky, brown snakes.  Stray French fries and candy wrappers littered the floor. 

“What a mess!  Can you imagine the poor lifeguards who have to clean this up?” 

Or do they? 

Sometimes random kindness is simply personal responsibility.  You make a mess.  You clean it up.  

But the LEGOS were on sale...

Day 28
When left to my own devices, I tend to wander while grocery shopping.  Drop me into a Target or Walmart and watch out, there’s no telling what will end up in my cart. 

Today’s impulse purchases included 25 mini-pumpkins, some pipe cleaners and a little early Christmas shopping.  What?  The LEGOs were on sale! 

Rolling up to the checkout I saw only one aisle open with an actual person working the till.  I like self-checkout for a few items but today’s spree couldn’t fit in one bag. 

An older woman stood behind me in the growing line that I might add was moving as quickly as running in thigh high mud. 

“Go ahead,” I motioned to step in front of my loaded cart. 

“Oh, thank you!”  She must have seen my pumpkins. 

Isn’t random kindness simply common courtesy?  

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Cracking Up

Day 27
Anyone who knows me knows I love my neighbors.  Come to Montgomery and you’ll step back in time.  Honestly, it’s like I live in Mayberry.

That’s why when someone asks you for a favor, you agree.   

One of my favorites asked me to review her friend’s book, a self-published tale about a woman who time travels.  The snappy titled Mary Jennifer Gordon Chronicle of An Amazing Life is a 444-page brick of a book.

Did I mention that the print is itty-bitty?  

I’m counting this as a random act of kindness towards the author.  I don’t know him.  I’ll probably never meet him.  But out of a deep respect and love for my neighbor I will read his 444 novel with an editor’s eye and give him my critique. 

So I’m posting then I’m cracking.  The book.  What did you think I was talking about?
Tomorrow, I’ll be doing the same thing.  Can I count this as two random acts?  Please? 

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

High Fives All Around

Day 26
After a day of cleaning and painting, I called the kids into the garage.

I coached them on what I wanted before they stepped foot into the space.

“Lots of cheering!  High fives are good, too.  Yeah, Mom!”  The boys nodded in understanding.  They’re good boys.  They know what Mommy needs.

My oldest took it further.  “How about ‘You did awesome!  Good job, Mom!’  Is that good?”  He’s such an overachiever.   

When you work hard, it’s natural to want someone to notice. 
For the last several days, I’ve watched some neighbors landscape their front yard.  They tore out old and overgrown bushes.  They weeded.  Planted.  Watered.  I work enough in the garden to know these people put some muscle into it. 

It looks amazing.  It took less than five minutes to write a note and drop it in their mailbox to tell them so.

If I’d seen them in person I would have offered a high five.   

Baby Steps

Day 25
How many times have you seen a mom with a young child at the grocery store?  Every time you go, right? 

My kids aren’t so far past the baby/toddler stage that I’ve forgotten how challenging shopping with them could be.  If I made it through the store without a tantrum or meltdown, I considered the trip a success. 

Walking back to my car with my groceries, I talked with a neighborhood mom.  I don’t know her name but I often see her walking with a stroller on my street.  Parked next to me, we compared exercise notes as we loaded our cars. 

As she buckled her son into his car seat, I grabbed her cart and returned it to the corral. 

I couldn’t imagine why I’d never done this for a mother of young kids before.  I absolutely hated leaving my kids in the car to run my cart back. 

Wow.  Super simple.  Day 25.  Done.     

Yak, Yak, Please Talk Back

Day 24
I love random conversations with strangers.  I’ll talk to anyone who gives me an ounce of encouragement. 

Oh, the things I’ve been told on a plane that would make your toes curl!! 

While in New York, I encouraged my son to talk to people waiting in line for the ferry, sitting next to us in the theater, and standing behind us on the tour bus.  We talked with street performers, store clerks, tourists and locals.    

I know teaching your child to talk to strangers may sound counterintuitive to what some parents preach but hear me out. 

I do not want my children to be fearful of strangers.  I want my children to know that 99.9 percent of all the people they’ll come in contact with are good, honest and friendly.   

I also feel that the more interactions my kids have with “good” strangers will prepare them to react if they ever meet a “bad” stranger.  

So here’s a shout out to the couple from Florida visiting NYC for their 50th wedding anniversary.

To our new friends from Taiwan, are you all the happiest people on earth, or what?!  They broke into “Happy Birthday” on the ferry ride to Ellis Island and got the whole top level of the ferry clapping as my little boy beamed.  If ever an opportunity presents itself to sing to a stranger in public, I’m jumping on it.    

Lastly, a big hello to the homeless woman at Starbucks.  She and I yakked about the benefits of one roller suitcase over another. 

What a diverse group you all were!  Thanks for making our trip better by sharing yourself.  I hope you enjoyed talking to us as much as we enjoyed talking with you.  

Say "Cheese"!

Day 23
A few years ago, my husband and I visited Paris to celebrate our ten-year wedding anniversary.  I dusted off my high school French and fumbled my way through “Will you take our photo, s’il vous plait?” in an effort to return home with at least one frame-worthy photo.

As a tourist of New York City, I wanted nothing less for my weekend trip with my son. 

With Times Square as our backdrop, I glanced around for someone to take our picture.  No one made eye contact.  Yet, oddly, this did not deter me.   
Thinking that all kindness is returned, I walked towards three woman who were struggling with their camera.  They were taking a succession of photos of combinations of two. 

“Can I take your photo?”  I mimed clicking a camera.  (I learned quickly in Paris that hand signs worked better than my broken French.  Since I couldn’t determine the women’s country of origin, charades seemed the best option.)

"Three?"  I pointed at the three of them.  "Together?"  I laced my fingers together in what I hoped indicated together.  

“How much?”  The woman asked.  She glared at me suspiciously.   

“Ah, free?” 

She consulted with her two friends before handing me the camera.

CLICK.  “One more.”  I held up my pointer finger to indicate I planned to take another photo.  Why not?  Give the ladies a little choice!   

The women nodded in agreement. 

“Yes?” They smiled as I handed the camera back. 

“Have a fun day!”  I. and I waved before walking away. 

Drats!  It was only down the street that I realized we’d forgotten about our picture.

No worries, we had opportunities all over NYC to repeat this exchange.  Again.  And again.  And again. 

Yes, I got that frame-worthy photo.    

Monday, October 24, 2011

It's a Zoo Out There

Day 22
The zoo in Central Park is a hidden treasure.  Step into its doors and you forget that 8.2 million people rush around outside its entrance. 

Kids run alongside the clear diving pool and laugh as the sea lions play catch. Around the corner, a bored polar bear sleeps just out of a camera’s viewfinder.  Inside the penguin house, families crowd the display to watch tuxedo-clad birds hop from water to land in one effortless movement.

In the children’s area, visitors can purchase dried pellets from gumball-like machines to feed the goats.  

Being in New York, I. and I are in for the whole experience.  “Do you want some?” I motion towards the feed.  Before I. can answer, a dad calls over to us. 

“It’s broken!  Don’t bother!”  I gather from his money waving that the change machine next to the goat food dispenser isn’t working.  The dad is flustered.  He has a little girl about five and a little boy about two clamoring for quarters.

I know the type.  Mom is off the clock.  Dad is in charge.  His manic enthusiasm comes across as a little frazzled, a little frantic, a little fried.     

His eyes dart around for another change machine.  Ah, a problem solver.  His body language screams, “I’m in charge!  I can do this just as good as mom!  Did I mention I’m in charge?!”

Let me clarify, when I say flustered, I mean, this dad is about to become unhinged. 

His plan of a relaxing afternoon at the zoo with his kids is heading south.  THE CHANGE MACHINE ISN’T WORKING!!!

I dig into my purse and pull out some quarters for his kids.  The girl gives me a smile and loads it into the machine. 

“Where did they get those quarters?!”  I should mention I am the only one standing anywhere near his children.  

Mr. In Charge is a detective.  

“I gave them to them.” 

He looks blankly at me as I. and I turn and walk away.  

How Big is Your Pumpkin?

Day 21
I know I’m lucky to stay home to raise my kids.  (I try and remind myself of this on days the boys are doing everything in their power to make me slowly lose my mind.) 

While I don’t collect a paycheck, staying home has its own “corporate perks”.  Let me name a few. 

Weekday errands take half the time as anything attempted on a Saturday or Sunday.

I can surprise my kids by baking up a batch of cookies and time it so they are warm when they get off the bus. 

I can wear my pajamas all day long. 

Another favorite thing that staying home allows me is the flexibility to volunteer at my kids’ school. 

Of all the opportunities to volunteer (and there are HUNDREDS), I live for field trips.  I mean I really, really like them.  Learning about how the Indians lived?  Oh, yeah.  Visiting a farm?  I’m there.

Yesterday, I joined a handful of other parents and chaperoned the kindergarten trip to Iron’s Fruit Farm.  Twenty kids and a handful of parents piled onto a wagon filled with hay bales.  We bumped along until we reached a back pumpkin patch filled with a rich harvest of a dozen different shapes and colors.

A. jumped off the back of the wagon and headed straight towards the largest pumpkin in the patch. 

“Ten bucks he picks that one,” I said to a friend. 

The pumpkin came past his knees. 

“Can you lift it?  Mrs. H says you have to be able to carry it.”  I admit to playing the teacher card to convince and cajole. 

A. grabbed the pumpkin’s stem and attempted to heave it up.  Nothing.  That orange giant didn't move an inch. 

“Hum.  Tough.”  I said. 

Not one to give up easily, he took a deep breath and threw his little legs into it. 


“What do you think?”  I asked. 

“I think I should let Kyle have this one.”  That’s my boy.     

I tried to get a photo of as many kids whose parents couldn’t attend as I could.  Picking a pumpkin.  Petting the goat.  Smiling on the hayride.  Emailing the pictures seems an easy pumpkin to carry.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Just Look

Day 20
When my mom learned of my blog experiment she asked how I could possibly find one random act of kindness everyday. 

I’m learning that opportunities are everywhere.  You just have to look.

Today was a perfect example. 

I was driving home from Kroger when I noticed him.  From a distance, he looked like my 90-year-old neighbor.  As I inched closer, I realized it couldn’t be.  This man walked with a noticeable limp.  Every couple of steps, his right knee collapsed and he’d catch himself from stumbling. 

I pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window. 

“May I give you a ride?” 

He smiled.  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to pick up strangers?”     

“You look pretty friendly.  Please.  Hop in.” 

He limped over to the car as I frantically threw the candy wrappers, toys and a soccer ball from the front seat. 

“I only have a couple houses to go.” 

We chatted happily as we drove the half block to his house. 

He invited me to stop by anytime.  “My wife and I are always here.  We have two little dogs.  They won’t bite, only lick you.” 

I told him I would as he opened the car door.  He put weight on his leg and stepped out.  “It feels better already.”  

It certainly does.  

Boo-ing Ninjas!

Day 19
Boo-ing (is that even a word?) seems to be something unique to Cincinnati. 

I’ve lived in a lot of places.  Nowhere have I ever encountered this Halloween tradition.        

For those unfamiliar, boo-ing involves someone secretly delivering a bag of goodies to your door.  Inside the bag is a photocopied ghost and poem (explaining the tradition of ‘boo-ing’). 

If you have been boo-ed, you must display the paper ghost near your front door to indicate that your house has been hit.  You should then boo someone else within two days 

To put it into simpler terms, think chain letters but way cooler and with candy. 

As I’ve previously stated, my family stinks at sneaky.  The whole concept of drop and dash is lost.  We are as unassuming as a blow horn. 

That’s why we opted for the cover of darkness. 

After dinner, the boys and I snuck out of our house as quietly as possible.  I convinced them they needed to embrace this approach if we didn’t want to be caught.  (Honestly, they’d been fighting since getting off the bus at four.  I would have said anything.)

Dressed in black, we dashed from tree to tree.  F. acted as our scout riding his bike ahead.  A flashlight mounted to his forehead lit the way.   

“We are the Booing Ninjas!”  A’s yells were met with a round of “shhhs!” before we all busted out laughing.  In whispers we repeated our mantra, “We are the Booing Ninjas!  We are the Booing Ninjas!”   

Angus crawled on his belly in the grass Army-style. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“Be the grass!”  He froze and threw his arms and legs out like a cardboard cutout. 

Uh, OK?  “Be the grass!” I repeated. 

The first house!  Success!!  (In fairness, we knew they were out to dinner.)  Bolstered by our boo-i-ness (hey, we’re making up words left and right!), we continued on down the street. 

Our next target in sight, we reconvened behind a neighbor’s bush to strategize. 

We sent A.  He darted to the front door, knocked and immediately ran back to the cover of the bush. 

Now, here is where our plan fell apart. 

“Do you think they heard that?” I asked.  We decided another ninja should follow-up with a doorbell ring.  As soon as I. jumped up from the protection of the bush, our neighbor opened the front door.  In very unlike ninja-style, I. screamed, waved his arms around in the air like he was batting a mosquito and dove behind the bush. 

At this point we were laughing so hard it was difficult to maintain our cover.  My neighbor said the shaking bush tipped her off. 

Sound like fun?  Visit

Monday, October 17, 2011

Kindness Happens

Day 18

Oh!  One of my biggest pet peeves in the ENTIRE world is an owner who doesn’t curb his dog.  I mean I hate it! 

For nearly a year, one dog owner allowed his pet to poop on our sidewalk.  I mean EVERY DAY I’d find his calling card.  We didn’t even own a dog.  While I wouldn’t put it past my boys to poop on the front sidewalk, from the size of it, it clearly didn’t come from them. An added bonus to this daily gift was the times my boys accidentally stepped in it before tracking it through the house. 

I was determined to figure out this mystery!  (A once working woman turned stay-at-home-mom clearly needs an outlet.) 

I made a little chart on my calendar to track the time I found the poop each day.  From my calculations, the dog walker passed our house between 8-8:45 each morning.  The exact time I dropped my kids at pre-school, how convenient!

One school-free morning, I announced to the boys, “Today is the day!”  We lined ourselves up along the edge of the front windows and waited. 

“What are we looking for?”  One of my boys asked. 

“A pooping dog!  Now get down!” 

We ducked lower in hopes of concealing ourselves beneath the window sill.  The owner I suspected spotted us and dragged her dog further up the street. 

Not deterred, the next week, the boys and I jumped in the car and parked in the cul-de-sac around the corner in hopes of catching her off guard. 

Foiled!  She caught sight of us and hurried past. (It’s hard to be invisible with three boys ages 2, 3 and 5 yelling, “Is that the dog that poops in our yard, Mommy?!” at the top of their lungs.) 

“Really?” My husband asked.  “All this for some dog poop?”  He knew enough not to question.  (We have been together for nearly 15 years.)  When I get like this he walks backwards out of the room and never loses eye contact. 

I never did figure it out, but word must have spread.  It stopped.  No more packages. 

Several years and one dog later, I was out walking Spot.  And I saw IT.  Evidence that the small pony still lives, breathes and poops in our neighborhood.

Yuck!  I pulled on Spot’s lease to keep him moving.  Then stopped.  Or, I thought, I could clean it up.  

Sometimes like shit, a random act of kindness happens.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Looking Gooood!

Day 17

"One of the most difficult things to give away is kindness.  It is usually returned."
Joseph Joubert (1754-1824); French moralist, essayist

I love the reaction I get when I give a complete stranger a compliment.  Even a simple "LOVE your purse!" gets a smile.  



Day 16

I say it every fall, but this time I mean it.  I WILL clean out the garage to fit (at least) one car inside before the weather changes. 

I’m making good progress.  Our old kitchen cabinets hang on the back wall.  (Labeling the drawers with my fancy-smancy label  maker made me slightly giddy with glee.)  I even threw on a coat of fresh paint.  I know, crazy! 

If there’s a woman on a mission, the best thing you can do is get out of her way.   

Even with all this, I've hit a roadblock.  Unless I remove the extra construction materials left over from our spring kitchen remodel, it’ll be window scraping every morning for the sixth year in a row. 

At my friend Kristen’s suggestion, I called Habitat for Humanity. They were thrilled to take the items.  I was thrilled to give them.    

In a matter of minutes, we’d agreed upon a time to pick up three sheets of drywall, some plywood, a dozen 2X4s, seven gallons of sheetrock and a couple planks of new, weatherproof decking. 

The boys and I are now on high alert for items we can donate from our house.  Clothes and toys are a given, but extra 2 X 4s?  What can we get rid of donate next?  

How about listing something you don’t need or want on Craigslist?  When the person shows up to pay, give it to them. 

When dividing flowers in your garden, pass along your plants to that green-thumbed neighbor. 

Drop off all your old People magazines (I know you love them as much as I do) to the gym.  Nothing makes my workout fly than reading about Brad Pitt!

The possibilities are endless!

Thursday, October 13, 2011

The Cycle of Life

Day 15

How have I survived in Cincinnati for the past six years without my new favorite lunch spot?  Today’s discovery, the Bluebird Bakery in Glendale, offers a range of sandwiches, quiches and soups.  I wonder if the tomato bisque comes in gallon-sized to-go containers.  

Two display cases tempt customers with all sorts of luscious treats: scones, brownies, cookies.  My mom and I select our old friend, the brownie.  I pick up some cookies to bring home to the boys to surprise them after school. 

On the way out, I turn to my mom and whisper, “Over there.  Let’s send some cookies to that table over there.”   It’s an older couple enjoying a nice lunch out.  

“But they’ll see us.”  My former CIA-agent (see Grinning Jack-O-Lantern for explanation) has turned timid on me since our last excursion of kindness espionage. 

“I’ll buy them on the way out.  They’ll never know.” 

My mom’s not sold.  “How about we deliver them to an elderly neighbor again?” she asks.   

“But this is really random,” I counter. 

She nods her head to agree but ducks out the front door to get away as quickly as possible.  I see her hiding behind the car.   

“Could you send four cookies over to that table there?”  

“Any special occasion?” The cashier asks.   

“No.  Actually, I don’t know them.” 

She smiles.  “I love that!”  I love it, too.   

Mission accomplished, I’m out the door and back to my mom before the cookies are delivered. 

“Won’t they think it’s a little weird?”  My mom is in the car now still worried the couple inside the cafĂ© will see us.   

“I hope they think it’s a little nice.”  No, what I really hope is that they will be so delighted by the surprise that they decide to pick a table to send cookies to on their way out and the cycle continues all afternoon.  

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Fee Fi Fo Fum

Day 14

There’s something about automated phone trees that make me crazy.  By the time I get passed from one electronic prompt to another (to another to another) and finally reach an actual person, I’m usually frazzled and frustrated past the point of reason.

I’ve unloaded on the nameless customer service rep simply because he or she was unlucky enough to answer the phone.  Even as I’m losing my temper, I know that the person on the other end most likely doesn’t influence company policy or hold any power in approving my claim.  Yet, an ogre I've become.   

I continue to rant.  Why?  Because sometimes you feel like yelling and if I have to wait ten days to get a new cable box than someone should pay, right?   

Rant?  Yell?  Am I reading the wrong blog?  Aren’t you supposed to be conducting some kind of social experiment by being kind?

Yes.  That’s why today I did the exact opposite of Fee Fi Fo-ing.   

I wrote a letter to Bethesda North Hospital to compliment the outstanding staff.  I named names.  I wanted their bosses to know how competent and kind their staff were and how much I appreciated them during my recent stay. 

Writing the letter took a quarter of the time it takes to get a person on the line at Time Warner.

The next time I have an attentive waitress who fills my water glass without asking, I’m going to jot down a nice comment and leave it on the table.  I’m going to thank the front desk staff at the Y for always greeting everyone with a friendly hello.    

I’ll remember I should be as quick to thank, as I am to complain.  

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Fall for Fall

Day 13 

I gave Finny the choice of cleaning his room or raking the leaves of an elderly neighbor. 

He didn’t blink an eye.  “Rake!”    

Makes sense to me.  Cleaning his room would require a shovel.  

Monday, October 10, 2011

Grinning Jack-O-Lantern

Day 12

Since my mom is staying with us as I recuperate I only thought it fair to wrangle her into our random act of kindness for the day. 

We picked up a few small pumpkins and ribbon and set about making centerpieces.  That was the easy part.  The delivery had me worried. 

“Will they see me?” my mom asks.  She’s up for most things but seemed worried about coming across as a crazy stalker carrying a pumpkin.    

“How fast can you run?”  I respond in a deadpan tone to my 71-year-old mother with bad knees.

“Do I have to run?” 

I smile.  “I’m just kidding!  How about I stick the car in reserve so we’re ready to roll as soon as you jump back in the car?” 

“OK!”  She’s excited now.  Appeased by our Plan B, she hobbles up to the front door. 

The last time we attempted to leave something on a neighbor’s doorstep, Angus blew our cover by ringing the front bell.  Not today.  My mom has the makings of a CIA agent in training. 

“They didn’t see me.” 

“I know.  Good job!” 

She’s smiling and having a good time.  “This is fun!  Now where does the lady with the dog live?” 

We are strategically hitting two houses in our neighborhood.  I may be prejudicial in my selection since I only seem to pick people my Uncle Mike calls “oldies.”

Plastic pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns cover Dee’s front walk and porch.  She’d confessed to loving Halloween the other day when she stopped to talk to us while walking her dog.  I’m afraid she may not notice our addition in her vast collection of Halloween fun.

My mom has the same thought as she heads back to the car.  “Do you think she’ll even be able to see it?” 

“Beats me!  Let’s roll!”     

Sunday, October 9, 2011

I'm Back!

Day 11

You’re probably thinking, “What happened?”  The last time I wrote I was off to deliver cookies to Ms. Anonymous.

Did the neighbor go ballistic?  Does she adhere to some religion that bans sweets of any kind and take the gesture as a personal affront?  Did this one random act of kindness send me over the edge and drive me to abandon my social experiment and blog altogether? 

No.  No.  No.  While all of those scenarios sound wildly exciting (and fun to write about), the truth is I’ve been sick and my husband took away my computer. 

For those who don’t know me, I don’t do anything halfway.  (Example: Let’s do a random act of kindness today. NO, let’s do one everyday for a YEAR!)  When I say sick, I mean admitted to Bethesda North Hospital for seven days with meningitis.  

A week lying in bed gives a person a lot of time to think.  Here’s some of the things I learned. 

1.         I may be overstating but I believe nurses, especially those administering heavy-duty pain medication, are the most kind and generous people on this planet. 

2.         You can never tell your parents “thank you” often enough.

As soon as my husband called my parents to tell them the news, they jumped in a car and drove five hours to get to me.  My stoic dad entered my room and tapped my foot to let me know he was there.  My mom sat by my bed and held my hand for the first 24 hours. 

I don’t claim that kindness by a parent to his or her child is random.  Clearly parents love their children unconditionally.  I just think it’s important to acknowledge what parents do.  As a parent of three, I’m happy if I get a high-five.  A thank you?  Knock me over with a feather!

So, Mom and Dad, thank you. 

3.         The right spouse makes the good times great and the bad times bearable.

This week, my husband bathed the kids, supervised homework, fed them meals, packed their lunches and constantly assured them that I would be home and healthy soon.  As an added bonus, he also got to complete many PTO duties.  What a trooper! 

4.         I’m a lucky girl to have the friends I have.

My friends circled the wagons.  Food started arriving.  Flowers.  Gifts.  Cards.  Friends invited my boys to their homes to play.  It never stopped.  Every time we turned around someone else was offering to help.    

The outpouring of kindness shown to us this week has truly been overwhelming.  A simple thank you doesn’t seem sufficient to express how grateful we are.  It’s a place to start. 

Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!