Simple Acts of Kindness

On the way home from Iowa a couple of weeks ago, I got the window seat on the plane. I sat next to a friendly lady who joked as I had to squeeze by her. She seemed to be a little nervous; she kept fidgeting with her book rather than reading it. I decided to make my usual airplane small talk: So...are you coming or going? She was going, this was going to be her first trip to California. How exciting!! Where exactly will you be staying? She was going to San Diego to see her son in the hospital. Not your usual first trip to the Golden State. It turns out she got an emergency phone call from her son the night before. He was injured while fighting in Iraq. She was just a bundle of nerves because the Army wouldn't disclose any specifc information over the phone. The only thing she was going on was that she had heard her son's voice and was on a plane at 8am the following morning. So there she sat, in between two strangers, not knowing the extent of her youngest (she has five!) child's injuries, is thousands of miles away from him, and is helpless to do anything for him in this moment. Picking up on her anxiety, the man in the aisle seat quickly started talking to her about her kids, her husband, her job, redecorating homes, traveling, his wife, his kids, his job..he kept her mind distracted for about an hour and half. I kept having the feeling I should jump in the conversation to help the time ease by for her, but I am in such a different phase of my life, I couldn't relate. I was also sitting there, feeling helpless, wanting to take some of this woman's anxiety away, but with no way to do it. I just sat in silence, listening about her and the aisle man's lives, just being present. Towards the end of the flight I remembered I had Thank You cards in my carry on (left over from my bridal shower). I have never been so thankful that I had actual cards to write a random person a thank you note. I wrote to her son, Micheal Russell, that I was thankful that he had put himself out there on the line for us, I thanked him for doing something so much bigger than his own life. When the plane had finally taxied to the Jetway and the captain had turned off the Fasten Your Seat Belt signs, I handed her the card and asked if she would give it to her son. Before I knew it, she kissed me and was holding me in a super tight embrace. She thanked the man on the other side of her for keeping her talking the entire flight. She had tears welled up in her eyes and was doing some deep breathing because she didn't want to lose it. I told her to have a safe drive and that I would pray for her family. She squeezed my hand and we went our separate ways.

Thirty...

Shortly after I turned 18, I got a tattoo. I had wanted one since I was about 15, so I had a few ideas about what to permanently decorate my body with. The one that I loved the most I created after a guided imagery exercise with Jaime's mom, Tammy. One of the gifts I had visualized receiving was a white dove, which represented purity. I knew I wanted some type of plant involved, but I wasn't sure what. My Aunt Heidi visited shortly after the dove idea and that's when I noticed that she had an ivy band tattooed around her ankle. I really liked the way it looked, but there was no meaning behind it for me. When my Grandpa Don passed away when I was 17, I got my meaning. Ivy was placed on his coffin by some of the gentlemen in the Elk's Club to symbolize brotherhood. I kind of made the brotherhood morph into "family". Now I had my design that totally represented who I was at the time. (A few years later the tattoo also took on the meaning of Purity and Poison, my own version of Yin and Yang: The Balance of Life).

My Grandpa Charlie passed away a few months after I had gotten my ink and my family and I were back in Iowa for the funeral. I remember when my Aunt Jacquie saw it, she told me, "When you turn 30 you're going to wonder 'Why in the world did I do that?'" I recall thinking, Even if I regret getting it, I'll always remember what it meant to me at the time and how I was young and impulsive and didn't care who I would be in 15 years...Her words have stuck with me ever since. Each birthday that has passed I have kind of evaluated if I still liked my tattoo....the answer is yes, it still represents me and what I believe. It still represents that young and hopeful girl. (Even if it is now considered a 'tramp stamp'!!)

Thinking Outside the Bowl

I'm a direction follower. I like to follow them exactly. This has always been something that has done me a great deal of good through grade school, and even high school. I didn't notice how it hindered me until I got into college and out into the real world. In college we were encouraged to think outside of the box and often given projects and assignments without too much direction or guidelines. This drove me crazy! I didn't have enough comfort with my own random ideas to just try the thoughts that came to mind. A few weeks ago I received a bag of Amish friendship bread and when it came time to mix it, the directions specifically said to use a non metal bowl. I didn't have a non metal bowl that was big enough. I'm on a tight budget and really didn't want to go buy one. Luckily my part time neighbor was in town and I was sure she had one that I could borrow. She didn't, but she came out of her cabin with a rectangular tupperware thingy. I politely told her no thanks, that it wasn't big enough. So here's my a-ha moment...........I had a big rectangular tuperware thingy that would be perfect! I had to laugh at myself, I just couldn't think of it before. I think my horizons are broadening.

Get your hands dirty!

I can't remember the last time my hands were totally dirty...to me dirty hands (skinned knees, dislocated shoulders) means you're using them, experiencing life, trying new things. So last week I learned how to set up a climbing wall and teach the basics about climbing and safety to my 8th grade rascals and my hands were filthty! I was so proud. (Also proud of my shoulder pain from falling off a rail and the scar on my shin from trying a frontside boardslide while riding this winter.)

Dusting off a bottle of wine

My brother, Tony took the prize for the coolest Christmas gift a few years ago. He got a case of Palamino Ridge Merlot with customized labels put on each bottle of the whole family (from a Winter trip to Tahoe), along with a moving saying, "Through the Years and Varying Paths: An Endeavor of Enriched Fulfillment". It was a pretty awesome idea; you know, one of those that you wish you'd thought of yourself. I've always had the tenancy to save special things like this bottle of wine, sometimes for too long. In middle school, one of my best friends Michelle, gave me two bottles of Bath and Body Works lotion. I'd never had anything like them before, so I used them sparingly. It wasn't until my second year of college that I had to throw them out because they were all watery and nasty. Knowing this about myself and knowing what I know about wine storage (wine should be kept at constant 55 degrees Fahrenheit to stay good and age properly), I feared that the Hartman wine may have already suffered a doomed fate. After all, the wine had been from Iowa to MoVal to Phoenix to Big Bear...not much consistency in temperature during its travels. I wanted to open and drink the bottle before the weather started to warm up, but I felt I needed some special occasion that had to do with my family to enjoy the yummy red stuff. One evening I decided to spend some quality time with my soon to be maiden name. Actually, I celebrated my Hartmanness for the next three evenings(there may have been an afternoon in there..). I leave you with this last challenge: to enjoy the beauty of this moment; to realize there is no better time that right now. So go have a glass of wine (coffee/tea/seltzer water/apple juice) to celebrate!

Design Artgum Art Eraser/Cleaner

Tarl and I (mostly I) decided to bump our wedding date up from June 2010 to September 2009. I had already filled out the calendar in my "Bride's Mini 411" to accommodate my 2010 date. I had to erase about fourteen months of dates!! My No. 2 eraser was having a hard time with the task, so I went to look for another(and bigger) eraser..Remember those giant pink ones you'd get in first grade? To my surprise, I couldn't find one anywhere! This was a little bizarre to me (especially since I was an elementary teacher); I always had one on hand somewhere. So the question that popped into my mind was: At what point do we stop having a big eraser to erase all of those mistakes as we learn? It seems like it's normal to make those simple or perhaps gargantuan mistakes when you're in school: learning algebra or writing an essay on Jane Austen..But what about when you're out there in the real world? If only it were that easy to just erase your simple (or perhaps) gargantuan mistakes: that speeding ticket or a bad relationship. Wouldn't it be nice to just erase them, learn from them, and move on? I've got a bad habit of letting the big mistakes haunt me for awhile...so I went out and bought a new, big eraser.

Sand Castles

My first and last trip to the beach 2008 was with a four year old. After not having gone to the beach with a little one for years and years, I forgot how much more fun it is to see things through their eyes. Within a half hour or so of arriving, Maddie had commissioned Tana to help her build a sand castle. It started with the basics: wet sand compacted into buckets to make the towers, arranging them just so to keep enemies out, and digging a big pit behind the castle property line. About 10 minutes later, Tarl joins in. Maddie tells him his job is to collect rocks to help create the pathway to entrance of her fortress. I'm still lounged on the daisy sheet reading my Women's Health magazine. Another 10 minutes later I flipped over to get some sun on my front, and I saw four adult figures working and one child figure overseeing and giving orders of what belongs where and why it belongs there. Now I couldn't resist. I walked down to the shoreline and marveled at Maddie's castle. She informed me that she needed feathers for the tops of her towers. As I walked through the sand searching for the perfect feathers I couldn't help but feel the magic of this little girl's imagination. That is why I love kids so much, they see the things that as adults, we forget to see.

Best part: knocking it down!

ENGAGED!!

Last Friday, my coworker and I planned to go on a hike first thing Saturday morning. I told Tarl my plans and he offered to wake up early and make me breakfast. "How sweet of him!" I thought...Not totally uncommon, he does sweet things like that all the time, but a little weird. Waking up early is so not Tarl, and waking up early on Saturday? Very rare. His alarm went off at 6:30am, he kissed my forehead, rolled out of bed and I fell back asleep. My alarm went off at 7, I hit snooze once, and in comes Tarl with a breakfast tray.

I noticed the white jewelry box right away, my stomach dropped a little bit..then I immediately dismissed the notion. I didn't want to get my hopes up and be disappointed if my imagination ran away with me. Probably a chocolate or something, I told myself. I honestly got nervous thinking "what if", what if this is really it...I opened the box and see a huge, cherry red ring pop sitting inside! I was able to exhale and relax a little bit, and Tarl says to me, "I love you and I want you to marry me." I put the ring on my hand held it out with my chin in the air and said, "I accept!" He said,"Good" and pulled out a small burgundy jewelry box. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh there is a real ring in there!! Now I'm a deer in the head lights. I should cry or scream, but all I can do is stare at the ring in its little wooden home. "Try it on, " Tarl told me.. Duh put the ring on, act excited, do something to let him know how happy you are... I slid the ring on and it fit perfectly!! Now I'm really shocked. My hands are pretty small and I never expected a ring to fit on the first try. "It fits!!" I told him(still looking like a deer) "Yeah, size 4, remember I asked you what size ring you wore while we were in Zion?" No, I don't remember that..how could I not remember that? Turns out Tarl has had this in the works since May, he asked for my dad's blessing in August when we were back there for my cousin's wedding and he's been in the process of having the ring made since then.

He had inherited four rubies from his maternal great-grandmother's ring.
His maternal grandfather had left a collection of Australian opals to Tarl's dad. The opals were originally his dad's brother's, who found a rare rock while posted in Australia and traded for a jar of opals. (That is a story of its own...) Tarl was also born in Australia. Knowing what he had to work with, he went online and found some ring styles he liked and let his sister Tana know what he was thinking for the ring. From there Tana, Jay(Tarl's dad) and Uncle Boyer (who is a jeweler) sat around and picked the opal that would best complement the rubies.Uncle Boyer set the ring, Tarl's dad mailed it with a decoy, we picked up the package Friday, and Tarl proposed Saturday, September 27. It's taken about a week for everything to sink in....the shock has worn off and now it's time to get in touch with my inner bridezilla.

Night Hike!

I suggested going on a full moon hike to a couple of the girls from work. The three of us stuck to the plan and when we got off work, we met at my house to drive to the trailhead. For the first 50 yards into the hike, they weren't quite convinced this was the best idea. There were a lot of trees and shadow cover and it took a bit for our eyes to adjust the darkness. Once the moon rose a little more and the trail opened up, we were able to truly appreciate this beautiful night. All of the rocks and plants were illuminated with a blue tint that only the moon can cast. We climbed up to the top of Castle Rock and took in what the Valley looks like at 12:30 am, enjoyed a glass of Pinot Noir and a few bites of flourless chocolate cake, and shared some girly giggles. Sherri thought it would be cool to watch the sunrise from where we were...two days later we again met at my house, this time at 5 am. We marveled at the deep blue sky and watched as the sun turned it orange and red until it was officially a new day.

Patience and Faith

When my parents sold our Moreno Valley house, I was living in Phoenix. I took a trip back home to take anything I wanted; otherwise it was all going to end up in Iowa. Pretty much the only thing I drove back with was a car full of Sago Palm trees. We had a bunch in pots because we had a big one in our pool area that kept having babies. They did great in the desert climate, but a year later I decided to move the mountains. I couldn't just leave them...they were sentimental Sagos! I didn't want to just give them away, they are worth a lot of money. I knew they wouldn't survive the fall and winter months, but my Aunt Sue, who lives in Illinois, brings hers inside for those seasons. So once again the Sagos went on a road trip, only this time it was in the back of a Uhaul. I did end up giving some of the bigger ones away to good friends and neighbors; I had way too many to keep inside. Fall rolls around and it started to get chilly at night. Sagos are hearty up to 20 degrees...I kept putting it off...Pretty soon we got our first snow...Yes, I brought them in after that! They seemed alright until about a week later when they turned yellow and brown. Not a good sign. I cut all the plumage off and kept watering them. I knew they were probably still alive. Well, I was really hoping they were. I took care of them all winter and early spring until it was warm enough to put them back out on the porch. I watered and waited. And watered and waited. (My plan was to wait until fall came again before I gave up.) Finally in the beginning of July one of them began to shoot new plumes!(Sago lingo) I was so relieved! Now its mid August and four out of the seven made it. I am so thankful I didn't give up on them. (I'm still watering the other three, just in case!)