When I was growing up I always had so much to say and the best advice that I had ever received was from my dad. He would say, "Well, you should go and write that down."

So I did.

This began my constant on and off again compiling of notebooks filled with whatever was on my mind. From the political injustices of the world, to how my boyfriend, at the time, was a heartless, wienie. To love sick poems, filled with the pondering of life.

My dad was not one for idle chit-chat. Which was why, more than likely, he told me to "write it down", when I had his ear. Oddly enough, it was the best medicine for my over-active mind. Writing, no matter what it was about, helped me clear my head. It gave me the opportunity to get out whatever was ailing me. It allowed me to read through my thoughts and move onto the next "big thing".

Three years ago, I lost my dad to cancer. I was with him through his illness, until he took his last breath. Very hard and extremely sad, as one can imagine.

I was forced to look back, over the years of my childhood and young adult life. Smile and take joy from all the happiness and triumphs I had experienced. Shake my head and sometimes cry over the mistakes I had made, the not-so-smart paths I had chosen to walk.

But what can you do? That is what life is made of. It's made up of all the laughter and tears we share. It's also made from all the laughter and tears we keep to ourselves.

When my dad realized that his time was approaching, we talked more openly than in all our years together. He told me about all of his joys. He cried about all of his mistakes. He was determined to impart to me all that he had learned over his life. I guess he knew at one point I would "write it down". I would have to write, in order to read through, to move forward and he knew this.

My dad ran his own business for more than half his life. He was up before the sun and he worked until it went down. The only day of the week my dad did not work was Sunday. Not for religious reasons did he rest on this day. As a matter of fact, he never rested. He just did not "work" on this day.

Instead, on Sunday my dad would wake everyone up and pile us in the car. He never seemed to have a plan, he just drove. Where ever we ended up, that is where we were going. As a family, we could find ourselves at the Jersey Shore and my dad would decide to rent a small plane. That way we could cruise the shore-line from the air. We could wind up at the Bridgeton Zoo where my dad would rent canoes for us to go down the waterway. We would travel down to Delaware State Park, have a picnic and learn how to bet the horses. The Poconos for a walk across a damn, through the woods. Target practice at a shooting range. Fishing on a lake we came across while off-roading in the Pine Barrens, or fishing for shark on a charted boat.

There was no telling what any given Sunday would bring, only that it was going to an adventure.

But, there is a lesson here. You see, for me and my siblings we learned that hard work would never hurt. Work hard. Never say I can't. If you don't know, learn and do. However, after you have put in your time working....Play. Play hard and with the ones you love. You don't need to plan everything. Sometimes the greatest adventure is the one that you haven't planned for. See where life takes you, that is the adventure.

However, that is not what my dad wanted me to learn. In the end, it turned out that there was a bigger picture. Much broader than my childhood eyes could see.

Yes, my dad taught me to work hard. I learned that well. As a matter of fact, people would say that I may have learned it too well. That I am unable to relax. That is partly true. The whole truth is that I can't relax unless I feel as though I have somehow earned it. It's quite a conundrum, because for me, I have a hard time deciding when I have earned it. Is forty hours enough? I still have so much more I can do. How about 60 hours? I have been known to work over 80 hours in a week for months at a time. Only realizing, heartbroken and guilt ridden that I forgot to play. Most shameful, I forgot to play with my loved ones. Oh sure, my bosses were happy and wanted more. But my family, they just missed me. It's when a look back that I see what I missed.

I will never forget the day I came upon my dad sitting in the bed of one of his work trucks. I was taken back, because at the time my dad had barely enough energy to walk around his property, not to mention he was quite unstable on his feet. But, there he was, just sitting in the back of that truck. He invited me to join him and so I did. He started to talk to me about how work was going for me. I began to tell him about this and that, when he started sifting through some tools and such.

"You see this bolt cutter", he said. "The only difference from this one is that it can do this". And he proceeded to demonstrate.

"This one cost $145.00 and this on only $50.00, but they do just about the same thing." Then my dad proceeded to go through the majority of tools, nuts, bolts etc. that he used in his day to day business in the same manner. Demonstrating or detailing each thing he laid his hands upon.

"You know what all this is Debbie....All this is nothing. It's worthless to me now."

I didn't really know how to respond and my dad went to get down off the truck. I helped him to the ground and he asked me to walk with him, so I did.

We walked around in almost complete silence. He walked me to the back of his yard where his shed was and more trucks and such.

"All of this Debbie, all of this is junk." He said. "It means nothing in the end".

I looked around to all of my dad tools, what was essentially all he used to run his business. A business that he created, worked and always seemed so proud of while I was growing up. It was his life...Or so I thought.

It was heartbreaking for me to hear him speak these words. I felt helpless in his despair. I knew that there was just simply nothing I could do or say to ease this burden he seemed to be carrying.

I was there that day, after working that morning in my own business, to cut the grass he was unable to maintain on his own. Instead, we just sat on his deck and talked about the grand kids, our lives, growing up and fond memories. As hard as that day was both mentally and emotionally, it somehow, in the end, became a very relaxing day for me.

On that day, I learned the lesson my dad truly meant to teach me growing up. It wasn't until after my dad passed, a few weeks later, when I looked back and I caught the lesson.

The lesson is this. You can work hard, your whole life. You can acquire security, status, wealth, things. However, in the end, what did you really get? At the sacrifice of time with your loved ones, with yourself...You have nothing.

That's not to say that working is not important. One cannot survive without the means to live. However, living to work...Well, that is just waisted time.

My life now? Try to work less...A lot less. That is easier said then done sometimes for me, and I am still learning how to accomplish it. However, thanks to my loved ones' constant vigil, I know it's not impossible. Try to just enjoy life as it is, not as I imagine it should be. To grasp and hold onto the adventure. Lastly, yet the most important thing is to try and pass THIS lesson, NOT the one I had been so unfortunatly mistaken, onto my children before anymore waisted time goes by for me or for them.

To Dye or Not To Dye?

In exactly 2 days I shall become another decade older. To be more precise, I shall be in my fourth decade. Yep! The great big four-o. And let me tell you, if I get one more phone call from my Mother reminding me about the "big four-o", I am calling her local newspaper and taking out a huge, center page add. Let's see...."Cynthia D., Congratulations on raising such a wonderful, talented, young woman, who is now turning the "big four-o", yeah, that would work. "Let's see....If your daughter is 40, that would make you?", her Republican friends would inquire. Of course, I would have to change my home phone number, my cell phone number and my Email address. However, it would be so worth it!

Any how, I decided about three months ago to go where very few woman at my age consider to go. Can't guess? You'll never guess. Let me just tell you. I decided to go....Hold onto your laptops. I decided to go GRAY! I know, I know, I told you that you wouldn't guess. So yes, after years of covering up, I made the move to bare all. And take it from me, we are not talking a few gray ones poking out here and there. We are talking crazy, out-of-control, wiley grays with a master plan of their own.

Let me just pause here to say to any one who is blessed to not have any, or maybe only have a few wild whiteys in their mane, I hope you keep those lovely, colorful locks of yours. Then one day, just before dawn, on a really important day, you go to take a shower, gaze into the mirror and realize....Your bald!

Only those who have had to darken their hair, just to realize that after about four weeks those damn things just show brighter up than they did before, can relate here. Because after more dye jobs to help you remain natural looking and yoouthful,you find yourself thumbing through endless magizines. There month after tedious month, in copies of US and STAR, are gorgeous women your age, with no gray hair to be seen. We give up. "OK, I'm ready to go lighter!", you tell your hairstylist. Let me add a cautionary statement here. If you decide to go this route, please, for the love of your hair and the possible happiness of your family, make sure your hairstylist knows how to color! I only say this, because after numerous attempts to explain to my first colorist that my true hair color had a great deal of red in it, not to be fooled by my Clairol # whatever....She knew best. So, after about I don't even remember how long, and after a monetary splurge,(if you get my point), I entered that afternoon, spring day with a absolutely lovely shade of orange hair! Hey, pictures do not lie. Worst yet, I have plenty of those pictures, because my family went to Key West a few weeks later to witness my youngest sister-in-law get married. Isn't it always the way. Look like shit, someone is always there with a damn camera, (smile). Look stunning, nobody but your family dog to look at you in admiration as you spin around looking in the full length mirror. They are probably thinking, "Huh, they have an awfully small tail."

So needless to say, after many, many shades, I settled into a new look. A look I have to say only came about because my sister-in-law, the one that is mentioned above, is an excellent hairstylist and can color the world. She lightened my hair, added some highlights, threw in some low-lights for shits and giggles and tada! A brand new me with color that can disguise any gray hair looking to dominate my world. We are talking cam-a-flouge here people. The only problem is....I am a hairstylists worst nightmare. I am always busy and can never remember when to make my next appointment. When I do, it's always a few weeks, sometimes more than a few weeks later than it should be. Then it's the money.

I will be the first to say, I am cheap when it comes to spending money on myself. But I have found most Mothers feel bad splurging on themselves. Somewhere, someone, a man perhaps, (smiling), decided to make Mothers feel horrible guilt if they spent money on themselves. I'm pretty sure it started out something like this: "Sure Honey, you can get your hair done today....I was going to take Johnny Jr. to the ballgame this week, but we can put that off for another time." Can't you just feel the guilt. If you can't, you must be one of those bad Mommys.

Any how, I make an appointment to get my hair trimmed up and remind my sister-in-law there will be no more coloring going on up there. "It's time", I say proudly. "I am ready to enter this next chapter of my life. I am ready to accept my age. We can't all have youthful hair forever. Anyway, who came up with this concept that to remain youthful and sexy, women have to color their hair? A man, that's who, (wink). Men turn forty, get gray and all of a sudden their distinguished. Yeah, OK. Well, I want to feel distinguished. I want to age gracefully. Stop laughing!"

A few short weeks later, after having ALL the women in the salon gasping and laughing at me over my "aging gracefully" speech, I was at the mall with my family. The three teens ditched us "old" people to browse the cool stores, while my hubby and I went to our cools spots....The food court for a coffee and then the nearest book store. I was feeling good. I felt a type of liberation if you will after I made this monumental decision. I had my hair pulled back in a low bun, very mature like. I was even, can I say, feeling quite the sexy woman. Then my handsome hubby leaned in closely. I leaned forward, waiting to hear he too noticed my new found freedom and just how good it looked on me.

"Wow", he said. I began to blush. I know, what a girly thing to do.

"You really do have a lot of gray", he remarked as he leaned back and took another sip of his coffee with a smile.

The very next day I text my sister-in-law. "Are you working tomorrow. I give up! Need a dye job and bad."

"Hahaha! I knew you'ld cave", she text back. The hairstylist victorious!

Yes, some ideas are always the best ideas. But I know one idea that is....You can never love yourself enough. So, as my sweet hubby is watching TV in happy football land, I head upstairs. I look in to find my lovely teens are hanging out together. I should be worried. They are probably thinking of some revengeful thing to pull off when we are OLDer, I close their door. I enter my haven and guiltlessly shut the world out. I turn on my TV and tune in the music channel, Singers and Standards. It's one of my faves. As I listen, My Funny Valentine plays on, soothing my stress away. I turn on the water faucets and draw myself a bathtub full of soft, fluffy, white bubbles. I bring in my vase of Latin Lady roses, newly purchased by yours truly, light some candles and place them about. Then happily, I slip into a luxurious, warm bath, music sensually playing with piano and horns, candles giving off a soft glow and the roses. Those lovely, lovely roses. You know what I love most about roses....They open up, get more vibrant in color and get more fragrant WITH AGE.

Bring the "Decade" on!

OK...It's officially 2010. I wanted to start this blog on January 1, 2010, however my need for procrastination has once again reared it's ugly head and I am now one day delayed. I guess it's a good thing procrastination was not on my "New Year Resolution" list, of which I have none. Yep! You read that correctly. This year, the official "new" decade, I simply refuse to give up anything. Why should I? I thought about this long and hard. I mean months of, "Hmmmm....Maybe this year will be the year I give up on chocolate." What! I must have been drunk that night. No way is chocolate ever, I mean never, ever going to make it on a "give up" list. Then I remember one night thinking, "Maybe I should give up drinking wine this year." Again, I really do not know what I was thinking there. I'll give up a wine when I give up chocolate. The fact they go together ever so well, and I am usually indulging in one when I am indulging in the other is completely irrelevant!

So, this year....This "new" decade, I decided to hell with all of these "giving up" lists. I have been doing this crap for, well for decades! The only thing that these "do good" lists do is create for me a heart full of guilt and self-loathing. I mean come on, I know I am not the only one to swear off something trivial that we think maybe the beginning of a "new" you in a new year. It's just that one day, weeks....Maybe even months later the "new" you gives into the "old" you. You know the one I am talking about. The "old" you that says, "Well, just this once won't hurt." Liar! You feel worse than you did BEFORE you made the damn list you started.

I mean who started this roller coaster we tend to ride on new year after new year. Sorry to say this for you men out there....But only a man would think of creating such an evil trapping! I can see it all now. The wife sitting next to her hubby watching TV,(innocent enough). Ahhh, wait...A commercial with a gorgeous blond selling shaving cream comes into view. The husband thinks, "I wish she would spread that lather on my face.", but won't dare utter a word. (Smart man). The wife thinks, "I bet she slept her way to this commercial....dumb Blondie.", she says sarcastically outloud, (here we go).

"Jealous are we?", the husband says with a smirk.

"No...Why would I be jealous?", the wife says while nudging her husband. "Should I be jealous? Why, do you think she's pretty?", as she considers smacking the smug smile off his face.

And so it began....The ill fated New Years Resolution, with all of it's trappings. Now, let me say before I get all kinds of retorts from men, I know the scenario could have gone the other way. However, this is my blog. That means I can lay blame any where I please. When it's your blog, blog away.

Any how, here are just a few resolution musts I have even considered over the decades myself. Starting at the top of almost every woman's list, including the above mentioned....Lose weight. It could be fifty pounds, it could be the dreaded last five. It is also the loss of weight in very specific areas, such as the stomach (crunches were also no doubt invented by a man), the waving arms (hi, right back at ya!), the rubbing thighs (Yeah, just got done riding a horse, a very large one), and the last but never the least our fat, gigantic, long (use as many adjectives as you'ld like here) ass! Men, here is some useful knowledge. We would shrink, and/or lift every part of our body if we could. I would also like to add that thanks to medicine, guess what....We can! Any woman that says, "Not I!", has quite frankly, met with her Doctor of choice. (Husbands every where are holding tightly onto their wallets).

But lets not stop there, here are some more we love to place on our resolution list to give up: Cigarettes, alcohol (shhhh....I know some that should), chocolate or any other sugar goddess confection, drugs (again, see alcohol). I think on the list should be: Bad music (starting with my younger son's taste in rock-n-roll. You know, where the singer yells like someone shoved a mike in their mouth to shut them the hell up! Probably a pissed off Parent), bad clothes (just because fashion repeats itself, does not mean we should be wearing our entire closet from the 80's. If you recently wore anything neon, this means you. Also if you fit these clothes....Screw you, you shaving cream lathering wench).

In any case, I believe that I have played this resolution game long enough. Sometimes I have been victorious. Like a warrior I've flaunted my "new" me for all those to bow down and envy. However, most times I have walked away from the table, utterly defeated. Head hung low, embarrassed to show my face. However, as I turn to follow my worn walk of shame....BLAM!! I turn and flip the damn table over! That's right, I'm a sore loser.

So as I walk away from this tedious yearly game, all I have to say is, I am resolute this year. Resolute to spoil the shit out of myself. No more denying for me baby! From now on it's all bubble baths and roses!