It's finally Friday! Wahooo! Mini-Me is spending the weekend with us, and is excited she gets to go on "date night" with us. I'm excited, too. Fun will be had! Other than that, just a bunch of boring "grown-up" stuff going on. Stuff I REFUSE to think about over the weekend. That being said....
It is Friday, so that means FIVE QUESTIONS! Hooray! Here we go.
1. What do you listen to while driving?
That alllllllll depends on the weather, and my mood. Cool cloudy days usually call for John Mayer. Any time is a good time for Jamey Johnson. Sometimes I listen to country radio. On my way to work I listen to GenX (best radio station ever ever ever), but you just never know about me.
2. What is your least favorite thing about Fall?
I think my least favorite thing about fall is Indian summer. Once I get a whiff of that crisp fall air, and my skin feels the cool breeze blow, I'm all in. When the temp climbs back up to 85 it makes me cringe. High of 70, please.
3. What does your dream house look like, inside and out?
I used to have realy specific dreams about a house. I longed for the day I would have a house just how I wanted it. As I have aged (ugh) I've come to realize that homes are like people. It's what's on the inside that counts (and I ain't talkin' about your furniture, neither!) the most. However, if money were no issue, and I were building my own home, it would be quaint. I don't want more space than I need. It'd have a basement for stormy weather and storing Christmas ornaments. It would have spacious bedrooms, but not too spacious, and comfy furniture. It would have a nice little front porch. Oh and I'd have my own bathroom. With a big ol' tub. It would be cute, not fancy. Lived in, not perfect.
4. Would you ever own a minivan?
If I had two or three kids I sure would. I think they're great for families and children. However, since I don't need one, I'd prefer driving a car. Get what I'm saying? If I had the need for a mini-van, yes I would drive one. But in my current familial situation, no, I would not buy one. Because I only have one child, therefore every now and then I can continue to live in the fantasy world where I am forever 21 with a sporty car (nevermind that carseat back there...or the third and fourth doors...adjust the mirror and they disappear).
5. Do you wash new clothes before wearing them?
I do. I can't stand the smell of new clothes. Jeans, maybe not, but anything else new I always wash first.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Accepting the Unexpected (I'm Working on It)
The phone rang. I answered it, already knowing it was Robin, already expecting an extensive chat. I answered.
"Hello?" (Why do we still say hello as a question when we almost always know who we're talking to?)
"Hey! What are you doing?" she asked. She sounded bubbly. She never sounds bubbly.
"Uh, nothing," I replied.
"Want to go to Sedalia with me?" she asked.
"I can't." I replied.
"Yes you can. You just said you were doing nothing."
"Yeah, but. I just, I can't. I have Chloe here, and.."
"So. Take her to Kindra, or bring her along. What else do you have to do?" she asked. She never takes no for an answer ;)
"Ok, well let me call and find out. I'll call you back."
I sat on my bed and thought. Eating out sounded good, and we had plenty to talk about. Mom was home, so I called her, first, and she was happy to watch Chloe while we went to Sedalia. I called Robin back and told her I would go. On the way there, she asked why I'd said no.
"I don't know," I said. "I guess it's just my first instinct. It wasn't on my calendar, and I hadn't planned to be gone, so I said no."
"I'm going to have to break you of that," she said, smiling. And she did her best to work on me.
I've always been a planner. Not a risk-taker. Not one to do anything I haven't thought about or don't already know the outcome to. I like structure in a chaotic way. I'll buy something on impulse once in a while, or get a wild hair to go somewhere or do something off-schedule, but for the most part I am a planner.
I've always been annoyed by people who "plan" something with you on Monday, only to be occupied when your Friday date comes. "I didn't know we made set plans," they'll argue. But to me, if I even entertain the idea, and commit to doing it, I'm putting it on my calendar. In ink.
Robin taught me to write in pencil, in both good ways and bad. Sometimes spontaneity is disappointing, like when plans are broken, or when your event is canceled and you're already on your way. And for me, it's never easy, but she opened me up to the idea of it. She paved the way for me to begin my slow, steady metamorphis into a more spontaneous person. And then all of a sudden, I fell in love with someone who has never used a calendar. He likes to go where the wind blows, and he likes for me to tag along.
The first month or two we lived together I was anxious and spastic all the time. I'd try to get him to confirm what we were doing Friday night on Tuesday, or he'd come home from doing farm work and want to run to Bolivar. I had shows. I had dinner laid out. I had a plan for the evening, and he was ruining it! Even though his new plan was much more fun and relaxing, it was very hard for me to learn to be spontaneous.
I've come a long way. I'm much better at going with the flow and enjoying spontaneous outings than I once was. I still like to know what's going on ahead of time, but I'm not as "set in stone" as I once was. I'm proud of myself.
I still have my setbacks, like last Friday evening when we were leaving the house and I was shouting to Bryan as I was pulling my boots on, "I can not leave this house and not have any idea what we're doing!" We went out to eat, and we drove around, and we didn't do anything earth-shattering, so why is it so hard for me to relax and accept the unexpected? (Ok, probably because I've been slammed in the face with some pretty cruddy "unexpecteds," but besides that...)
"Hello?" (Why do we still say hello as a question when we almost always know who we're talking to?)
"Hey! What are you doing?" she asked. She sounded bubbly. She never sounds bubbly.
"Uh, nothing," I replied.
"Want to go to Sedalia with me?" she asked.
"I can't." I replied.
"Yes you can. You just said you were doing nothing."
"Yeah, but. I just, I can't. I have Chloe here, and.."
"So. Take her to Kindra, or bring her along. What else do you have to do?" she asked. She never takes no for an answer ;)
"Ok, well let me call and find out. I'll call you back."
I sat on my bed and thought. Eating out sounded good, and we had plenty to talk about. Mom was home, so I called her, first, and she was happy to watch Chloe while we went to Sedalia. I called Robin back and told her I would go. On the way there, she asked why I'd said no.
"I don't know," I said. "I guess it's just my first instinct. It wasn't on my calendar, and I hadn't planned to be gone, so I said no."
"I'm going to have to break you of that," she said, smiling. And she did her best to work on me.
I've always been a planner. Not a risk-taker. Not one to do anything I haven't thought about or don't already know the outcome to. I like structure in a chaotic way. I'll buy something on impulse once in a while, or get a wild hair to go somewhere or do something off-schedule, but for the most part I am a planner.
I've always been annoyed by people who "plan" something with you on Monday, only to be occupied when your Friday date comes. "I didn't know we made set plans," they'll argue. But to me, if I even entertain the idea, and commit to doing it, I'm putting it on my calendar. In ink.
Robin taught me to write in pencil, in both good ways and bad. Sometimes spontaneity is disappointing, like when plans are broken, or when your event is canceled and you're already on your way. And for me, it's never easy, but she opened me up to the idea of it. She paved the way for me to begin my slow, steady metamorphis into a more spontaneous person. And then all of a sudden, I fell in love with someone who has never used a calendar. He likes to go where the wind blows, and he likes for me to tag along.
The first month or two we lived together I was anxious and spastic all the time. I'd try to get him to confirm what we were doing Friday night on Tuesday, or he'd come home from doing farm work and want to run to Bolivar. I had shows. I had dinner laid out. I had a plan for the evening, and he was ruining it! Even though his new plan was much more fun and relaxing, it was very hard for me to learn to be spontaneous.
I've come a long way. I'm much better at going with the flow and enjoying spontaneous outings than I once was. I still like to know what's going on ahead of time, but I'm not as "set in stone" as I once was. I'm proud of myself.
I still have my setbacks, like last Friday evening when we were leaving the house and I was shouting to Bryan as I was pulling my boots on, "I can not leave this house and not have any idea what we're doing!" We went out to eat, and we drove around, and we didn't do anything earth-shattering, so why is it so hard for me to relax and accept the unexpected? (Ok, probably because I've been slammed in the face with some pretty cruddy "unexpecteds," but besides that...)
Monday, October 4, 2010
Apron Strings: Birthdays and Bar Drinks
I've decided to start a new mini-series of posts called "Apron Strings." I've seen the other side of food-service now, and WOW I had no idea what I was missing! I'd like to share my thoughts (and gripes) with you. Hopefully you'll laugh, feel enlightened, or roll your eyes, if not all three :)
Todays topics are birthdays and bar drinks. Here we go.
Birthdays.
You've seen it before. Maybe you've done it. A birthday at a restaurant. The serving staff comes hollering from the kitchen, announces the birthday, sings, and presents a mini dessert. You think it's funny to embarrass the birthday boy or girl, or maybe you just want to score a free dessert. Maybe it's not their birthday at all. It's not like we check ID.
What you don't know:
*It's a pain in the ass!
It's not so bad on a Tuesday afternoon, but on a Saturday night it's not so easy to execute. You see, when you tell us it's a birthday, we have to go get the dessert, and beg the other servers to STOP what they are doing (like running their food, getting drinks, greeting tables, taking Billy Bob four more ranch dressings, etc.) and make a ruckus. If I have four tables who want my attention, I don't like to leave them hanging while I wait for the servers to gather and do a birthday presentation. Sorry. =/
*It's not for everyone.
I love doing birthdays for little kids. That baby sundae is just their size, and they see that bright red cherry and beam. They feel like a little celebrity! They clap and laugh and it's toooo cute. I also don't mind participating in a birthday celebration for a 90 year old woman (they usually come in on Saturday at 2:15 when we're not busy), or maybe a 21st or 16th. What's NOT cool is doing it for Dad's 42nd or Stella's 61st. It's also not cool to embarrass a kid who would rather be anywhere but Applebees with her parents.
*We KNOW when it's not your birthday.
Ok, not always, but we get a pretty good idea. We over hear you joking about it, then watch you get up the nerve to ask. Also, we don't buy the "I totally forgot it was her birthday, too" line we get two minutes after you see us do someone ELSE's birthday. Even if it IS your birthday, if we just did one, it just isn't the same the second time. Everyone is tired of hearing it while they're trying to eat, and we have other things to do. If you didn't think of it first, let it go.
*We'll give you a dessert.
Well I don't know if WE will, but I will. If you tell me it's her birthday, but she really gets embarrassed, or that she hates being singled out, I'll bring you that sundae and wish you a happy birthday all by myself, quietly. :)
Bar Drinks
Ohhhh the bar drink. You want a bottled beer, or even a draft? You probably won't have to wait for it. But you want a Jamaica Freeze or a Mudslide? Sit tight, friend.
What you don't know:
*The bartender makes all the alcoholic and specialty drinks for the building.
That means he might have four servers waiting for drinks before you. And he's only one guy. I can't make him move any faster, and I have no control over him. You and I both have to wait patiently for your turn to have your drink.
*No one likes making mudslides.
They're delicious. I love them, but bartenders far and wide dislike making them. Ok maybe not dislike making them, but would rather make you ANYTHING else. I'm not telling you not to order it. I'm just asking you to be patient. It's a hand-made milkshake basically, and it's not easy.
*Sometimes he (or she) is a jerk.
We all have our interpersonal relationships at work. Some are better than others. So if Barguy is pissed off at me that day (for whatever reason), he might take his sweet time on YOUR drink. He might take care of all his guests first, then wipe down the bar, then straighten the glasses, THEN start on your drink. Because he knows you'll get mad at ME, not him. He knows his pay/tip/etc. won't be affected. I have even had managers make your drinks because I felt your wait was excessive and the barguy was "too busy" to do it. But please, if you wait an eternity for your bar drink, don't get mad at me!
*Easy on the Margaritas.
If you want to have a margarita, be my guest. But if you plan to drink three margaritas, please sit in the bar section. Drinking is expected there. When you get loud and giggly, you irritate the people arround you, the families with small children, the old people, and the non-drinkers who happen to be MY guests also. If they're irritated and trying to hurry, they're more likely to get pissy with moi. So if you are getting tipsy at my table, you're affecting my tip. If you must sit at a regular table and drink three margaritas, please be gracious with your tip ;)
Have a good week :)
Todays topics are birthdays and bar drinks. Here we go.
Birthdays.
You've seen it before. Maybe you've done it. A birthday at a restaurant. The serving staff comes hollering from the kitchen, announces the birthday, sings, and presents a mini dessert. You think it's funny to embarrass the birthday boy or girl, or maybe you just want to score a free dessert. Maybe it's not their birthday at all. It's not like we check ID.
What you don't know:
*It's a pain in the ass!
It's not so bad on a Tuesday afternoon, but on a Saturday night it's not so easy to execute. You see, when you tell us it's a birthday, we have to go get the dessert, and beg the other servers to STOP what they are doing (like running their food, getting drinks, greeting tables, taking Billy Bob four more ranch dressings, etc.) and make a ruckus. If I have four tables who want my attention, I don't like to leave them hanging while I wait for the servers to gather and do a birthday presentation. Sorry. =/
*It's not for everyone.
I love doing birthdays for little kids. That baby sundae is just their size, and they see that bright red cherry and beam. They feel like a little celebrity! They clap and laugh and it's toooo cute. I also don't mind participating in a birthday celebration for a 90 year old woman (they usually come in on Saturday at 2:15 when we're not busy), or maybe a 21st or 16th. What's NOT cool is doing it for Dad's 42nd or Stella's 61st. It's also not cool to embarrass a kid who would rather be anywhere but Applebees with her parents.
*We KNOW when it's not your birthday.
Ok, not always, but we get a pretty good idea. We over hear you joking about it, then watch you get up the nerve to ask. Also, we don't buy the "I totally forgot it was her birthday, too" line we get two minutes after you see us do someone ELSE's birthday. Even if it IS your birthday, if we just did one, it just isn't the same the second time. Everyone is tired of hearing it while they're trying to eat, and we have other things to do. If you didn't think of it first, let it go.
*We'll give you a dessert.
Well I don't know if WE will, but I will. If you tell me it's her birthday, but she really gets embarrassed, or that she hates being singled out, I'll bring you that sundae and wish you a happy birthday all by myself, quietly. :)
Bar Drinks
Ohhhh the bar drink. You want a bottled beer, or even a draft? You probably won't have to wait for it. But you want a Jamaica Freeze or a Mudslide? Sit tight, friend.
What you don't know:
*The bartender makes all the alcoholic and specialty drinks for the building.
That means he might have four servers waiting for drinks before you. And he's only one guy. I can't make him move any faster, and I have no control over him. You and I both have to wait patiently for your turn to have your drink.
*No one likes making mudslides.
They're delicious. I love them, but bartenders far and wide dislike making them. Ok maybe not dislike making them, but would rather make you ANYTHING else. I'm not telling you not to order it. I'm just asking you to be patient. It's a hand-made milkshake basically, and it's not easy.
*Sometimes he (or she) is a jerk.
We all have our interpersonal relationships at work. Some are better than others. So if Barguy is pissed off at me that day (for whatever reason), he might take his sweet time on YOUR drink. He might take care of all his guests first, then wipe down the bar, then straighten the glasses, THEN start on your drink. Because he knows you'll get mad at ME, not him. He knows his pay/tip/etc. won't be affected. I have even had managers make your drinks because I felt your wait was excessive and the barguy was "too busy" to do it. But please, if you wait an eternity for your bar drink, don't get mad at me!
*Easy on the Margaritas.
If you want to have a margarita, be my guest. But if you plan to drink three margaritas, please sit in the bar section. Drinking is expected there. When you get loud and giggly, you irritate the people arround you, the families with small children, the old people, and the non-drinkers who happen to be MY guests also. If they're irritated and trying to hurry, they're more likely to get pissy with moi. So if you are getting tipsy at my table, you're affecting my tip. If you must sit at a regular table and drink three margaritas, please be gracious with your tip ;)
Have a good week :)
Friday, October 1, 2010
I Wear Pink Because I Ran Away
I just entered Chrissy's giveaway and realized I have never ever ever ever ever talked about the big C on here. Yeah. Cancer. If you know me, you know it's been a little too close to home, and it's something I just don't talk about. With it being breast cancer awareness month, though, and with so many supportive readers lately (thanks, btw, for the e-mails and comments), I feel it's finally time.
In May 2008 I already had more on my plate than I felt emotionally able to handle. I was being bullied and harassed at work and I was living daily in the tribulation period of my failing marriage. I felt like I was scraping myself off my bed every morning and smooshing myself into a replica of "me" and going about my day. I was sure things couldn't get worse. (Isn't it ironic how just when you think that, the Universe shows you just how wrong you are?)
I don't even remember now when my mom told me, or how she told me. All I know is that she went to the doctor and ended up having a biopsy. I think I knew about all that at the time, but I can not remember. she kept it from me at first, hoping she wouldn't have to worry me. What I do remember is the day the secretary came and got me out of class. She told me that my mom and Jill were outside, that they were going to Dr. Allcorn's office to get the results of the biopsy, and that they wanted me to go. "Don't worry, we'll cover this," she said. I remember her face was sympathetic, and it was then I realized something might really be wrong (I'd convinced myself it was nothing, and that everyone was being over-dramatic. It's called denial).
We went to the doctor and he said something about metastatic and malignant. When the nurse was talking to my mom, she stood next to me. I looked over her arm. The chart said stage 3. The doctor didn't really say much, except that he wanted her to go to a specialist, blah blah blah and he recommended surgery immediately. They discussed where she should go (she had files at St. John's in Springfield from the biopsy, he recommended Columbia), and she finally made an appointment in Springfield.
After that day, I looked up her cancer type online. I was afraid she was going to die. I FELT like she was going to die, and I didn't have it in me to deal with that. People started asking me how I was doing, and I said fine. I wasn't sick, she was. The truth is, her cancer was eating at me as much as it was eating at her.
I went with her to meet with the cancer lady who tells you how awful the chemo and radiation will be, where to get a wig, and what you can't have or do or eat when you're going through it all. I never realized until that moment just what it means to be a cancer patient.
I soon became angry. I was mad at my mom first. She'd known about the lump for months, but because her *bad words* school doesn't offer insurance to non-certified staff (nevermind she's worked there TWENTY YEARS), and because she had her gallbladder taken out the fall before, she didn't go to the doctor. She was too worried about her financial situation (medical bills, harassment from the hospital, etc). Eventually she was put on Medicaid. Do you know what that means? They think you're going to die. You're "disabled" and all that. I was scared.
Then I was mad at the school. They didn't cover her. It was their fault she hadn't gone sooner. She was going to die, and I was going to sue their asses off. I mean I was angry like you wouldn't believe. Then I was angry at the world. People would say (when I did open up and say my mom had cancer), "Oh, breast cancer. She will beat that. It's no big deal anymore." They obviously didn't know what it was like to have a mom who couldn't get out of bed for days, who couldn't eat, who couldn't feel her finger tips, who didn't have hair. A mom who was so emotionally and physically sick she wasn't even my mom.
I would love to say I was a good daughter, and that I helped her through it, but I didn't. I took her to a few appointments, and I went to her surgery, and when she asked me for something, I'd do it. But I didn't go check on her. I didn't clean her house. I didn't ask her about the cancer or the chemo. I didn't want to know. I needed my mom, but she was unavailable because CANCER was ruining her body and her life. People thought I was a selfish brat, and I was, I guess. I was in survival mode emotionally, and I was doing the bare minimum in order to raise my daughter effectively and keep myself above water.
I hated the cancer. And since it occupied my mom's body, she is the one who I avoided in the process of avoiding the cancer. My then husband, who lost his dad to cancer, never once asked me if I was ok. Never once offered to go with me to those doctor visits or to see her. He complained when I left Chloe with him to accompany my mom.
I finally found Robin, a friend who became my sister when I needed that, and my mom when I needed that. She grabbed me in the hallway one day and told me she'd heard about my mom. She wrapped her arms around me and cried. She'd lost her dad a few months before, and I knew she understood me. She opened her home to me anddrank helped me through the entire time. We played games, we went to movies, we ate out, we cooked, we laughed. She could relate to every emotion I was going through, and she let me embrace the things I was feeling. She was the one thread that kept me together during that time. I will love her until the day I die for what she was at that time. I don't need her now like I did then, but we'll always be close. If it wasn't for her, I don't know if I would've made it through that time.
By the fall, Mom was ready for surgery. Her tumor had shrunk immensely. Her surgery went well, and she started to be more like herself. Radiation was difficult, but for the most part I had my mom back. She was happier, she was healthier, and things were normal again.
My mom is a two year survivor now, and I'm confident that she beat cancer. No, she kicked its ass all by herself. I'm proud of her and I still hate that disease for what it did to my mom, what it did to me, and what it's done to so many people. It's the hardest thing I have gone through and I didn't even have it.
So here is to EVERYONE who has gone through it, helped someone through it, or run the other way like I did. It is real, it is devastating, and even though women beat it EVERY day, it's a vicious monster and we can't make enough noise, raise enough money, or raise enough awareness.
If you're a woman, be sure you do a BSE every month. If something is amiss, DON'T avoid your doctor out of fear. Eat right, work out, kick your bad habits, and talk to your doctor about the risks associated with birth control. And, read Chrissy's blog, then enter her giveaway if you like :)
In May 2008 I already had more on my plate than I felt emotionally able to handle. I was being bullied and harassed at work and I was living daily in the tribulation period of my failing marriage. I felt like I was scraping myself off my bed every morning and smooshing myself into a replica of "me" and going about my day. I was sure things couldn't get worse. (Isn't it ironic how just when you think that, the Universe shows you just how wrong you are?)
I don't even remember now when my mom told me, or how she told me. All I know is that she went to the doctor and ended up having a biopsy. I think I knew about all that at the time, but I can not remember. she kept it from me at first, hoping she wouldn't have to worry me. What I do remember is the day the secretary came and got me out of class. She told me that my mom and Jill were outside, that they were going to Dr. Allcorn's office to get the results of the biopsy, and that they wanted me to go. "Don't worry, we'll cover this," she said. I remember her face was sympathetic, and it was then I realized something might really be wrong (I'd convinced myself it was nothing, and that everyone was being over-dramatic. It's called denial).
We went to the doctor and he said something about metastatic and malignant. When the nurse was talking to my mom, she stood next to me. I looked over her arm. The chart said stage 3. The doctor didn't really say much, except that he wanted her to go to a specialist, blah blah blah and he recommended surgery immediately. They discussed where she should go (she had files at St. John's in Springfield from the biopsy, he recommended Columbia), and she finally made an appointment in Springfield.
After that day, I looked up her cancer type online. I was afraid she was going to die. I FELT like she was going to die, and I didn't have it in me to deal with that. People started asking me how I was doing, and I said fine. I wasn't sick, she was. The truth is, her cancer was eating at me as much as it was eating at her.
I went with her to meet with the cancer lady who tells you how awful the chemo and radiation will be, where to get a wig, and what you can't have or do or eat when you're going through it all. I never realized until that moment just what it means to be a cancer patient.
I soon became angry. I was mad at my mom first. She'd known about the lump for months, but because her *bad words* school doesn't offer insurance to non-certified staff (nevermind she's worked there TWENTY YEARS), and because she had her gallbladder taken out the fall before, she didn't go to the doctor. She was too worried about her financial situation (medical bills, harassment from the hospital, etc). Eventually she was put on Medicaid. Do you know what that means? They think you're going to die. You're "disabled" and all that. I was scared.
Then I was mad at the school. They didn't cover her. It was their fault she hadn't gone sooner. She was going to die, and I was going to sue their asses off. I mean I was angry like you wouldn't believe. Then I was angry at the world. People would say (when I did open up and say my mom had cancer), "Oh, breast cancer. She will beat that. It's no big deal anymore." They obviously didn't know what it was like to have a mom who couldn't get out of bed for days, who couldn't eat, who couldn't feel her finger tips, who didn't have hair. A mom who was so emotionally and physically sick she wasn't even my mom.
I would love to say I was a good daughter, and that I helped her through it, but I didn't. I took her to a few appointments, and I went to her surgery, and when she asked me for something, I'd do it. But I didn't go check on her. I didn't clean her house. I didn't ask her about the cancer or the chemo. I didn't want to know. I needed my mom, but she was unavailable because CANCER was ruining her body and her life. People thought I was a selfish brat, and I was, I guess. I was in survival mode emotionally, and I was doing the bare minimum in order to raise my daughter effectively and keep myself above water.
I hated the cancer. And since it occupied my mom's body, she is the one who I avoided in the process of avoiding the cancer. My then husband, who lost his dad to cancer, never once asked me if I was ok. Never once offered to go with me to those doctor visits or to see her. He complained when I left Chloe with him to accompany my mom.
I finally found Robin, a friend who became my sister when I needed that, and my mom when I needed that. She grabbed me in the hallway one day and told me she'd heard about my mom. She wrapped her arms around me and cried. She'd lost her dad a few months before, and I knew she understood me. She opened her home to me and
By the fall, Mom was ready for surgery. Her tumor had shrunk immensely. Her surgery went well, and she started to be more like herself. Radiation was difficult, but for the most part I had my mom back. She was happier, she was healthier, and things were normal again.
My mom is a two year survivor now, and I'm confident that she beat cancer. No, she kicked its ass all by herself. I'm proud of her and I still hate that disease for what it did to my mom, what it did to me, and what it's done to so many people. It's the hardest thing I have gone through and I didn't even have it.
So here is to EVERYONE who has gone through it, helped someone through it, or run the other way like I did. It is real, it is devastating, and even though women beat it EVERY day, it's a vicious monster and we can't make enough noise, raise enough money, or raise enough awareness.
If you're a woman, be sure you do a BSE every month. If something is amiss, DON'T avoid your doctor out of fear. Eat right, work out, kick your bad habits, and talk to your doctor about the risks associated with birth control. And, read Chrissy's blog, then enter her giveaway if you like :)
I Want to be Minnie Mouse!
Well, if you're not my Facebook friend (then you should be, but that's another story), then you don't know that my Jamey Johnson concert was canceled. Boo hisss boo hooooo hoooo! I'm heartbroken. I was SO pumped about that, and now it's been snatched from me! But on a happier note I have some weekend time off coming up for birthday parties and family stuff, so that's something to look forward to I suppose.
Anyway, there is nothing exciting going on, except that I had a RECORD number of blog views yestetrday, oh yes I did! I've also added two new followers (yay newbies!), and feel like I am not just talking to myself every day after all :)
Anyway, it's time for five questions. Are you ready????
1. Did you have a pen pal when you were little (or now)? Where were/are they from?
Well, I paid my social studies teacher in 6th grade to give me an International pen-pal. Her name was Miriam Alacouchie (yep I still remember). She was from Denmark. I wrote her four letters, and she never ONCE wrote me back. That's my luck, though, remember?
I met a girl at Super Summer, though, my very first year (after 7th grade). Her name was Shawna Mason, and we clicked instantly. She lived in Springfield, and we wrote each other letters over most of our high school years. We lost touch eventually, but I enjoyed having someone to write to about all the (boring) things going on in my teenage life. I have looked for her on Facebook, but there are probably five million Shawna Masons =/
Oh don't forget my farm guy pen pal ;)
2. If you could do a different job for one day, what would it be?
It's funny Mama M mentioned this, because I just told Bryan when we went to Worlds of Fun how much fun I think it would be to be a character at an amusement park. I wouldn't want to be Cinderella, though, I'd want to be one whose head is covered, like Minnie Mouse, or Snoopy, or Tweety Bird. Wouldn't it be fun to have children (and adults) beg for your photo all day? To hug little kids and make their whole day/vacation/life by spending time with them? I think it would be super cool.
3. Do you remember your biggest fear from when you were little?
Probably whatever happened on Rescue 911 that week. Even into myyoung adult years I have been one of those people who suddenly becomes afraid of whatever new is brought to my attention. My main fear as a child was of our house burning down. I remember when I got so scared about it that I quit using my night light (YIPES the dark!) because I was afraid it would start a fire.
I worried about car accidents, abduction, boating accidents, carbon monoxide, and animal attacks, all thanks to Rescue 911. Then when I was older I was sure I had every disease or ailment that crossed the doors of County General ER (remember when George Clooney was the cutest doctor around? Move over McDreamy!). I even remember using the "tricks" the doctors talked about to check myself for a brain tumor more than once ;) See my worrying goes waaaaaay back!
4. What do you think is a waste of time? Why?
Ohhh I don't know. I'm pretty good at wasting time, so I could tell on myself and say Facebook, blogging, Grey's Anatomy re-runs (I've seen them ten times already!), and sleeping late. But all of those things bring me such joy, so are they really a waste of time?
Waiting in lines is the biggest waste of time I can think of. In traffic, at amusement parks, at Walmart, wherever. I hate hate hate waiting.
5. What is the oldest item you have in your closet?
Ooh I'm guilty here. I have a pair of Dr. Martens that are more than ten years old (those things are indestructable!), I also have my college sweatshirt, which is now more than ten years old. Other than that, just a few things from my early twenties.
Anyway, there is nothing exciting going on, except that I had a RECORD number of blog views yestetrday, oh yes I did! I've also added two new followers (yay newbies!), and feel like I am not just talking to myself every day after all :)
Anyway, it's time for five questions. Are you ready????
1. Did you have a pen pal when you were little (or now)? Where were/are they from?
Well, I paid my social studies teacher in 6th grade to give me an International pen-pal. Her name was Miriam Alacouchie (yep I still remember). She was from Denmark. I wrote her four letters, and she never ONCE wrote me back. That's my luck, though, remember?
I met a girl at Super Summer, though, my very first year (after 7th grade). Her name was Shawna Mason, and we clicked instantly. She lived in Springfield, and we wrote each other letters over most of our high school years. We lost touch eventually, but I enjoyed having someone to write to about all the (boring) things going on in my teenage life. I have looked for her on Facebook, but there are probably five million Shawna Masons =/
Oh don't forget my farm guy pen pal ;)
2. If you could do a different job for one day, what would it be?
It's funny Mama M mentioned this, because I just told Bryan when we went to Worlds of Fun how much fun I think it would be to be a character at an amusement park. I wouldn't want to be Cinderella, though, I'd want to be one whose head is covered, like Minnie Mouse, or Snoopy, or Tweety Bird. Wouldn't it be fun to have children (and adults) beg for your photo all day? To hug little kids and make their whole day/vacation/life by spending time with them? I think it would be super cool.
3. Do you remember your biggest fear from when you were little?
Probably whatever happened on Rescue 911 that week. Even into my
I worried about car accidents, abduction, boating accidents, carbon monoxide, and animal attacks, all thanks to Rescue 911. Then when I was older I was sure I had every disease or ailment that crossed the doors of County General ER (remember when George Clooney was the cutest doctor around? Move over McDreamy!). I even remember using the "tricks" the doctors talked about to check myself for a brain tumor more than once ;) See my worrying goes waaaaaay back!
4. What do you think is a waste of time? Why?
Ohhh I don't know. I'm pretty good at wasting time, so I could tell on myself and say Facebook, blogging, Grey's Anatomy re-runs (I've seen them ten times already!), and sleeping late. But all of those things bring me such joy, so are they really a waste of time?
Waiting in lines is the biggest waste of time I can think of. In traffic, at amusement parks, at Walmart, wherever. I hate hate hate waiting.
5. What is the oldest item you have in your closet?
Ooh I'm guilty here. I have a pair of Dr. Martens that are more than ten years old (those things are indestructable!), I also have my college sweatshirt, which is now more than ten years old. Other than that, just a few things from my early twenties.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
"Anonymous"
I've been reading a post that was written at My Little Life, and it made me want to also address the issue.
The Anonymous Comment. Now, I want to first give a little disclaimer. I realize that not everyone has a Google account (like the Martians, elves from the North Pole, and maybe the Tooth Fairy), and sometimes they want to comment on a blog. Sometimes there is a call for anonymous answers (as in my Need to Belong post) when personal information may be revealed that you don't want the world to know. I get that.
What I don't get, is why someone would want to anonymously "hate" on someone else's views or opinions. If you write a comment on MY blog, and respond to MY writing, but you don't have theballs gall to own it, you have no business writing it. It made me feel good to read Mama's post and know that I'm not alone, but it irrtated me even more that people DO this.
Do you consider yourself a gossip? Do you think it's appropriate to talk behind someone's back, or send anonymous hate mail? If you leave anonymous comments that are disrespectful or hateful in nature, you are doing just that. If you attack anything other than the opinion expressed in the writing, you are being a rude and low-class person in my opinion. You know who I am. You read what I wrote, and I stand behind every word. You owe me the same courtesy.
If you have the guts to say something rude and hateful, but not the guts to own it, well, I guess I'll just call you yellow. And I have no problem doing it, because I'm right here putting my name on my words. Next time you write something rude, ask yourself if you'd have the guts to say it to that person's face. If not, backspace backspace backspace, cancel.
For examples of this, read "I'm Blocked," or go to Amazon and see for yourself. I don't delete the comments because I think the authors make themselves look like asses and I enjoy the entertainment :) I don't care what people have to say, or I would delete the comments and obviously not encourage my blog readers to read them. What bothers me is their refusal to own their words. They feel empowered by putting their thoughts out there because they are in no way vulnerable or responsible for what they say.
Have a lovely day. And only leave anonymous comments if you dare!
The Anonymous Comment. Now, I want to first give a little disclaimer. I realize that not everyone has a Google account (like the Martians, elves from the North Pole, and maybe the Tooth Fairy), and sometimes they want to comment on a blog. Sometimes there is a call for anonymous answers (as in my Need to Belong post) when personal information may be revealed that you don't want the world to know. I get that.
What I don't get, is why someone would want to anonymously "hate" on someone else's views or opinions. If you write a comment on MY blog, and respond to MY writing, but you don't have the
Do you consider yourself a gossip? Do you think it's appropriate to talk behind someone's back, or send anonymous hate mail? If you leave anonymous comments that are disrespectful or hateful in nature, you are doing just that. If you attack anything other than the opinion expressed in the writing, you are being a rude and low-class person in my opinion. You know who I am. You read what I wrote, and I stand behind every word. You owe me the same courtesy.
If you have the guts to say something rude and hateful, but not the guts to own it, well, I guess I'll just call you yellow. And I have no problem doing it, because I'm right here putting my name on my words. Next time you write something rude, ask yourself if you'd have the guts to say it to that person's face. If not, backspace backspace backspace, cancel.
For examples of this, read "I'm Blocked," or go to Amazon and see for yourself. I don't delete the comments because I think the authors make themselves look like asses and I enjoy the entertainment :) I don't care what people have to say, or I would delete the comments and obviously not encourage my blog readers to read them. What bothers me is their refusal to own their words. They feel empowered by putting their thoughts out there because they are in no way vulnerable or responsible for what they say.
Have a lovely day. And only leave anonymous comments if you dare!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wherefore Art Thou, Jamey?
If you don't follow me on Facebook then you are not yet annoyed by my constant posts about Jamey Johnson. Yay for you!
It all started back in 2008 when I was working at Weaubleau. Somewhere during the year Wade decided to move from the opposite side of the room to the seat next to my desk. I really hadn't spoken to Wade before that, and had let him blend in quietly, being overpowered by the louder (more obnoxious) personalities in his class.
One day when they were doing their work, he asked if we could listen to "In Color" on my computer. I was always skeptical about student song choices, but when he told me I'd find it on CMT.com I figured it couldn't be too inappropriate. We listened to it, and while the lyrics were very powerful, there was just something about the sound that I absolutely loved.
Fast forward more than a year. Bryan decided to buy That Lonesome Song, the album that had "In Color" on it. I immediately fell in love with "High Cost of Living," and I think we about wore that song out that weekend. As I listened more, I became more in love with every song on the album. His lyrics were honest. He wrote from a dark place in his life, and he didn't hide the things he had experienced. Pain, rebellion, love, poor decisions, and revenge.
His lighter songs were fun and up-beat, and I'm not going to lie. I love his accent. He says "Flaw-rid-uh" instead of "Floor-da." He has a slow, southern drawl that makes his voice even more amazing. I fell in love with him as an artist. He was my mowing buddy, my walking buddy, and my cleaning buddy.
A few weeks ago, his second album came out, a double-cd, and I bought it the day it came out. It's a little more redemptive than his first album, but it has some amazing songs on it as well. Songs that can make you feel your soul. I love it. I've been professing my love for him for months now, as you probably read (time and time again). "Oh Jamey, Oh Jamey, wherefore art thou, Jamey?" I've been dreaming about the day he would be close enough for me to at least road trip and see him live. Then, something remarkable happened.
A few days ago I told my friend Lindsay that her country icon, Jason Aldean, would be in Springfield next month. I mentioned that there probably weren't great seats left. Her mom commented on our post, telling me to check out ticket triangle, and that she had bought Lindsay tickets!
I checked out ticket triangle, and through that process found out that Jamey is going to be in KC next week. NEXT WEEK! Is that enough time to order tickets and plan to go? Would Bryan even TAKE me after months of professing my love for this musician? The answer was yes! We ordered tickets and will be headed that way next Thursday.
I've been to a LOT of concerts. I've seen Alan Jackson more times than I can count. I've seen Kenny Chesney, Deana Carter, Gary Allan (at the Bud Tent for FREE before he was big), the Beach Boys, and about every Christian band who was popular in the 90s. But NEVER have I been SO very excited to see someone live. I can't wait :)
It all started back in 2008 when I was working at Weaubleau. Somewhere during the year Wade decided to move from the opposite side of the room to the seat next to my desk. I really hadn't spoken to Wade before that, and had let him blend in quietly, being overpowered by the louder (more obnoxious) personalities in his class.
One day when they were doing their work, he asked if we could listen to "In Color" on my computer. I was always skeptical about student song choices, but when he told me I'd find it on CMT.com I figured it couldn't be too inappropriate. We listened to it, and while the lyrics were very powerful, there was just something about the sound that I absolutely loved.
Fast forward more than a year. Bryan decided to buy That Lonesome Song, the album that had "In Color" on it. I immediately fell in love with "High Cost of Living," and I think we about wore that song out that weekend. As I listened more, I became more in love with every song on the album. His lyrics were honest. He wrote from a dark place in his life, and he didn't hide the things he had experienced. Pain, rebellion, love, poor decisions, and revenge.
His lighter songs were fun and up-beat, and I'm not going to lie. I love his accent. He says "Flaw-rid-uh" instead of "Floor-da." He has a slow, southern drawl that makes his voice even more amazing. I fell in love with him as an artist. He was my mowing buddy, my walking buddy, and my cleaning buddy.
A few weeks ago, his second album came out, a double-cd, and I bought it the day it came out. It's a little more redemptive than his first album, but it has some amazing songs on it as well. Songs that can make you feel your soul. I love it. I've been professing my love for him for months now, as you probably read (time and time again). "Oh Jamey, Oh Jamey, wherefore art thou, Jamey?" I've been dreaming about the day he would be close enough for me to at least road trip and see him live. Then, something remarkable happened.
A few days ago I told my friend Lindsay that her country icon, Jason Aldean, would be in Springfield next month. I mentioned that there probably weren't great seats left. Her mom commented on our post, telling me to check out ticket triangle, and that she had bought Lindsay tickets!
I checked out ticket triangle, and through that process found out that Jamey is going to be in KC next week. NEXT WEEK! Is that enough time to order tickets and plan to go? Would Bryan even TAKE me after months of professing my love for this musician? The answer was yes! We ordered tickets and will be headed that way next Thursday.
I've been to a LOT of concerts. I've seen Alan Jackson more times than I can count. I've seen Kenny Chesney, Deana Carter, Gary Allan (at the Bud Tent for FREE before he was big), the Beach Boys, and about every Christian band who was popular in the 90s. But NEVER have I been SO very excited to see someone live. I can't wait :)
Friday, September 24, 2010
My Second Friday (with Five Questions, Of Course)
Well it's FRIDAY again! It felt like Friday all day yesterday. Bryan, Ryan, Sheila and I went to the Alan Jackson/Jerrod Neimann concert last night and had a blast! Jerrod Neimann surprised me and was very entertaining. He also has music that is MUCH better than his over-played, annoying "Lover, Lover" song. And even though I've seen Alan Jackson at least six times before with my granny, it's been more than ten years since I saw him, and I really enjoyed seeing him. It's fun to go to a concert where you know every song. It was also my first time to see "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning" live, and that was powerful.
We made t-shirts for the KTTS Take Me Backstage contest. We didn't win, but it made for a cute picture of us all. (If you're my Facebook friend you'll see it later. My connection is too slow to upload them here) We sang, we danced, we clapped, we had a great time. And after that fun night out, I still have a "real" Friday to look forward to! And I'm alllllll alone today without a car, so there's no telling what all I will get done! Go ME!
Anyway, let's get to the real meat of this blog. The FIVE Questions!! YIPEEE!
1. If you could speak with a different accent, what would it be (i.e Australian, Scottish)?
Wellllll the thing is I can speak with a different accent. If you knew me in high school, you know my Mid-Missouri-half-hick-half-southern accent was much thicker in my younger days. I worked very hard to correct it as much as I could when I went to college, and even more so when I changed my major to English. I still remember Levi making fun of how I used to say my short "i" as in hill and pill (which sounded more like heeul or peeul) and my short "a" as in what (which sounded more like whut). Yes Levi made fun of MY accent. It was that distinct. And if you know me well, and are around me a lot, you may hear it creep out when I'm nervous, excited, etc. I'd say now that I'm not teaching it is coming back more, because just yesterday I noticed when Chloe said, "tomato" she said "tuh-may-ee-doh." Maybe she gets it from Bryan...
If I had to choose another accent, though, I'd speak with a British accent. Not the sloppy drunk hooker one, though, the prim and proper one. I think it is the only accent that makes people sound smarter.
2. Can you fall asleep anywhere? (i.e floor, couch, deck)
I can't fall asleep just anywhere by choice. If it's bedtime I can't just curl up on the back deck or out in the barn and drift into my dreams. I have to be tucked into my covers and snuggled up with my sweetie. (I have, on occasion, fallen asleep watching TV, and once upon a time I lived on my old couch because it was more comfy than any bed I've occupied) But, if my body gives out and I can't make it one more second, I have been known to konk out on the couch, chair, car, truck, bus, floor, teacher's lounge, and even kitchen table :)
3. Do you use public restrooms? If so, do you sit on the toilet?
I try not to. There have been times I have had Bryan drive PAST the gas station and onto a gravel road, because I'd rather do my business behind the truck (only in the dark!) than have to go into a public restroom. I despise having to take my little girl in them as well. However, if I do have to go in, I hover. Depending on the cleanliness of the bathroom, I either cover the seat for Chloe or hold her over the toilet, and I make her keep her hands on her head so she doesn't touch anything. It's also possible that she thinks you get bites on your bum from those bottomless beach bathrooms *sheepish grin.* What? It could happen. Don't worry. I was scolded for that when Mom took her to the beach and used a bathroom there. Chloe told her that Mommy says there are nasty bugs on those toilets. Nana told her Mommy was wrong. Then Chloe told Mommy she was wrong, but she wasn't sure enough to try it out ;)
4. If you were stuck in an elevator for 24 hours, what celebrity would you most want to be stuck with?
Hm. If you know me, you're expecting me to say Dermot or Benny. But I'm not sure that either of them could entertain me for 24 hours (now, now, don't go there). So maybe Jack Johnson, or Jamey Johnson (woah big difference there!) to musically entertain me, and mabye make me famous in a song. Or maybe John Mayer. I know he's a douche, but I'm a cynic, so we might just get along ;) As far as same-sex celebs, I could handle hanging out with Chelsea Handler for 24 hours. We could definitely be friends.
5. Where did you & your significant other go on your 1st date?
Ohhh the first date that we planned and went on alone (our first actual dinner date included his dad) was to Applebees and a movie. :) We had been talking for a while, and had been around each other some already, but I was so nervous. We had fun, though. Awwwww. *Remembering* Every date since then has been just as fantastic. I love him oh yes I do :) :) :)
We made t-shirts for the KTTS Take Me Backstage contest. We didn't win, but it made for a cute picture of us all. (If you're my Facebook friend you'll see it later. My connection is too slow to upload them here) We sang, we danced, we clapped, we had a great time. And after that fun night out, I still have a "real" Friday to look forward to! And I'm alllllll alone today without a car, so there's no telling what all I will get done! Go ME!
Anyway, let's get to the real meat of this blog. The FIVE Questions!! YIPEEE!
1. If you could speak with a different accent, what would it be (i.e Australian, Scottish)?
Wellllll the thing is I can speak with a different accent. If you knew me in high school, you know my Mid-Missouri-half-hick-half-southern accent was much thicker in my younger days. I worked very hard to correct it as much as I could when I went to college, and even more so when I changed my major to English. I still remember Levi making fun of how I used to say my short "i" as in hill and pill (which sounded more like heeul or peeul) and my short "a" as in what (which sounded more like whut). Yes Levi made fun of MY accent. It was that distinct. And if you know me well, and are around me a lot, you may hear it creep out when I'm nervous, excited, etc. I'd say now that I'm not teaching it is coming back more, because just yesterday I noticed when Chloe said, "tomato" she said "tuh-may-ee-doh." Maybe she gets it from Bryan...
If I had to choose another accent, though, I'd speak with a British accent. Not the sloppy drunk hooker one, though, the prim and proper one. I think it is the only accent that makes people sound smarter.
2. Can you fall asleep anywhere? (i.e floor, couch, deck)
I can't fall asleep just anywhere by choice. If it's bedtime I can't just curl up on the back deck or out in the barn and drift into my dreams. I have to be tucked into my covers and snuggled up with my sweetie. (I have, on occasion, fallen asleep watching TV, and once upon a time I lived on my old couch because it was more comfy than any bed I've occupied) But, if my body gives out and I can't make it one more second, I have been known to konk out on the couch, chair, car, truck, bus, floor, teacher's lounge, and even kitchen table :)
3. Do you use public restrooms? If so, do you sit on the toilet?
I try not to. There have been times I have had Bryan drive PAST the gas station and onto a gravel road, because I'd rather do my business behind the truck (only in the dark!) than have to go into a public restroom. I despise having to take my little girl in them as well. However, if I do have to go in, I hover. Depending on the cleanliness of the bathroom, I either cover the seat for Chloe or hold her over the toilet, and I make her keep her hands on her head so she doesn't touch anything. It's also possible that she thinks you get bites on your bum from those bottomless beach bathrooms *sheepish grin.* What? It could happen. Don't worry. I was scolded for that when Mom took her to the beach and used a bathroom there. Chloe told her that Mommy says there are nasty bugs on those toilets. Nana told her Mommy was wrong. Then Chloe told Mommy she was wrong, but she wasn't sure enough to try it out ;)
4. If you were stuck in an elevator for 24 hours, what celebrity would you most want to be stuck with?
Hm. If you know me, you're expecting me to say Dermot or Benny. But I'm not sure that either of them could entertain me for 24 hours (now, now, don't go there). So maybe Jack Johnson, or Jamey Johnson (woah big difference there!) to musically entertain me, and mabye make me famous in a song. Or maybe John Mayer. I know he's a douche, but I'm a cynic, so we might just get along ;) As far as same-sex celebs, I could handle hanging out with Chelsea Handler for 24 hours. We could definitely be friends.
5. Where did you & your significant other go on your 1st date?
Ohhh the first date that we planned and went on alone (our first actual dinner date included his dad) was to Applebees and a movie. :) We had been talking for a while, and had been around each other some already, but I was so nervous. We had fun, though. Awwwww. *Remembering* Every date since then has been just as fantastic. I love him oh yes I do :) :) :)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Pride: The Good Kind
Did you ever have something that you were really proud of? Maybe something you saved up your money for, or worked really hard for, or got a really great deal on. I've had lots of things in my life that I was really proud of (NOTE to anonymous hater: In these sentences "of," and "on" are used as adverbs, modifying the verb phrases "were/was proud," and "got," so you don't need to leave a snotty comment about my use of a preposition at the end of a sentence).
I remember the first year my mom conned me out of having a birthday party by offering me the presents I would get anyway PLUS a fifty dollar bill. WOW that was a lot of money then! I still got to have a friend over, and I made bank :) That year I used the money to buy myself this coat I was dying to have.
If I tell you about the coat, a Wal-Mart denim coat that was long and insulated, and had a dark leather trim, you probably wouldn't think it was much, but I bought it myself. I was so proud of that coat. Throughout the years I also saved up and bought myself a tv for my room, a leather bomber jacket (it was the 90s guys!), and numerous cds, VHS tapes (90s), and shoes (Adidas runners and Dr. Martens sandals AND boots). Finally at sixteen I got a job and made the payments (every last one of 'em) on my first car (a 1989 Escort with hatch-back baby he he).
I cherished those things so dearly, not because of what they were, but because I had saved my own money and bought them for myself. These days that's the case with pretty much everything, so it's not as amazing as it once was, but there are still things, now and then, that I feel very proud of.
On the other side of that, have you ever trusted someone to use or borrow one of those things you were so proud of? I remember letting a boy I liked drive my car for the first time and being a nervous wreck the entire time. Luckily that turned out well, but I remember asking myself what I was thinking.
Sometimes, that doesn't turn out so well, though. Did you ever let someone play with your favorite toy, only to have it broken? Or did you loan your coolest pair of designer jeans to your best friend (I didn't, because we were about six inches different in length ;) only to never see them again? Ever lost a pair of Dr. Martens to someone who promised to return them the next day, and didn't bring them back til they were out of style?
Maybe you remember the very same parent who taught you to share and be kind scolding you for being so careless or irresponsible with your things. Yeah that sounds familiar, doesn't it? That reminds me of the "Don't talk to strangers, but SAY HI to everyone who approaches you in public" blog I've been meaning to write ;)
I guess what I am getting at, is that the best things we gain are the hardest things to lose. The things we are proud of and put our hearts and money into that bring us the most joy are the ones that leave us feeling queasy when they are taken, lost or broken.
So the best thing to do is to take pride not in the things you have, but the accomplishements you make. Don't be proud of the new dining room set you saved up for, be proud of the family who sits together for dinner. Don't be proud of the new bike you bought for Johnny's birthday, be proud of the child you taught to ride it. Don't be proud of the house you built, but of the home you created. Don't be proud of your designer clothes, be proud of your fashion sense (if it's good, ha ha). Be proud of the things that can't be taken from you, broken, or lost, and that "good" side of pride will be much more rewarding.
I remember the first year my mom conned me out of having a birthday party by offering me the presents I would get anyway PLUS a fifty dollar bill. WOW that was a lot of money then! I still got to have a friend over, and I made bank :) That year I used the money to buy myself this coat I was dying to have.
If I tell you about the coat, a Wal-Mart denim coat that was long and insulated, and had a dark leather trim, you probably wouldn't think it was much, but I bought it myself. I was so proud of that coat. Throughout the years I also saved up and bought myself a tv for my room, a leather bomber jacket (it was the 90s guys!), and numerous cds, VHS tapes (90s), and shoes (Adidas runners and Dr. Martens sandals AND boots). Finally at sixteen I got a job and made the payments (every last one of 'em) on my first car (a 1989 Escort with hatch-back baby he he).
I cherished those things so dearly, not because of what they were, but because I had saved my own money and bought them for myself. These days that's the case with pretty much everything, so it's not as amazing as it once was, but there are still things, now and then, that I feel very proud of.
On the other side of that, have you ever trusted someone to use or borrow one of those things you were so proud of? I remember letting a boy I liked drive my car for the first time and being a nervous wreck the entire time. Luckily that turned out well, but I remember asking myself what I was thinking.
Sometimes, that doesn't turn out so well, though. Did you ever let someone play with your favorite toy, only to have it broken? Or did you loan your coolest pair of designer jeans to your best friend (I didn't, because we were about six inches different in length ;) only to never see them again? Ever lost a pair of Dr. Martens to someone who promised to return them the next day, and didn't bring them back til they were out of style?
Maybe you remember the very same parent who taught you to share and be kind scolding you for being so careless or irresponsible with your things. Yeah that sounds familiar, doesn't it? That reminds me of the "Don't talk to strangers, but SAY HI to everyone who approaches you in public" blog I've been meaning to write ;)
I guess what I am getting at, is that the best things we gain are the hardest things to lose. The things we are proud of and put our hearts and money into that bring us the most joy are the ones that leave us feeling queasy when they are taken, lost or broken.
So the best thing to do is to take pride not in the things you have, but the accomplishements you make. Don't be proud of the new dining room set you saved up for, be proud of the family who sits together for dinner. Don't be proud of the new bike you bought for Johnny's birthday, be proud of the child you taught to ride it. Don't be proud of the house you built, but of the home you created. Don't be proud of your designer clothes, be proud of your fashion sense (if it's good, ha ha). Be proud of the things that can't be taken from you, broken, or lost, and that "good" side of pride will be much more rewarding.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The Case of the Missing Doritos
Chloe isn't what you'd call "sneaky." She's usually very clear about her intentions, and even when she's trying to pull one over on someone, she often accidentally tells on herself. For example, a few nights ago she found Bryan's phone in our bedroom. She then announced that she was going to take Bryan his phone and hide it behind her back to surprise him. He was sitting only feet away in the living room and clearly heard the whole conversation.
She told me a month before Christmas that she was getting me the Perfect Brownie pan. It was no secret.
If she wants something or needs something, she always asks, even when permission isn't required.
So today, when I left my Doritos bag on the couch to go start our grilled cheese sandwiches, I thought I was losing my mind when it disappeared. I'm notorious for carrying things around the house. You might find the remote on the back of the toilet, or in the fridge if I've had it last. I searched high and low, then went into my bedroom where she was watching a Barbie movie. She's a good "finder," so I was going to enlist her help.
Then I saw her, chin on her knees, munching on my Doritos. :) Little Stinker.
She told me a month before Christmas that she was getting me the Perfect Brownie pan. It was no secret.
If she wants something or needs something, she always asks, even when permission isn't required.
So today, when I left my Doritos bag on the couch to go start our grilled cheese sandwiches, I thought I was losing my mind when it disappeared. I'm notorious for carrying things around the house. You might find the remote on the back of the toilet, or in the fridge if I've had it last. I searched high and low, then went into my bedroom where she was watching a Barbie movie. She's a good "finder," so I was going to enlist her help.
Then I saw her, chin on her knees, munching on my Doritos. :) Little Stinker.
Friday, September 17, 2010
I have just ONE five Questions for You
It's Friday AGAIN! Wowee this week went fast. The upcoming weekend is sure to blow (sorry, lack of a better expression). This is my first full weekend of work in three weeks. Jodi is gone forever :( and I'm working all weekend with The Spaz. My only comfort is that I am the motherlovin' ONE on Sunday (that means Spaz doesn't get to boss me around) and the hope of continuing a new Saturday tradition with Jaime. Oh and a few super cool co-workers (to balance the super NOT cool ones).
Friday is my absolute favorite day. It still has that feeling of Friday even though I no longer work a typical week. It's the one and only kid-free night with my love, and it's out to eat night. It's also usually a visit to Sheila's. Annnnnnnd it's also FIVE QUESTIONS! Yay!
1. What is the first nightmare you remember?
Ohhh I still remember it SO vividly. Before I had the dream, my little brother had fallen at the kitchen table and banged his noggin. Out cold. He was literally knocked out, and was only maybe two. Poor baby bubby. Anyway, he was fine, but after the incident, my mom told me if anything like that ever happened that I was to run to Lance and Linda's (our next door neighbors) and tell them and get help.
When I went to bed that night, I dreamed that a witch came to our house. It was the "typical" kid witch, with a pointy black hat and green skin. She got my mom and tied her to the woodpile we had under the carport. I kept telling her to let her go, but she refused. The witch then hinged an axe to the woodpile and CHOPPED my mama almost in half. Imagine a tree that has had a chunk sawed out so it will fall. My mama came out of the carport holding her stomach, teetering on the little skin she still had. I went running for Lance and Linda's, but halfway there I saw my mom fall down and die.
I was scared to go to sleep for weeks. I know, morbid. Since then I have always hadnightmares night terrors when there was (good or bad) stress or change in my life. My brother's incident probably sparked fear and stress in my little mind and POOF. Weird scary dream.
2. Even if you're not a sports fan, what's your favorite sport to play/watch?
But, I'm not a sports fan. I don't enjoy sports much at all. I will tolerate the occasional football game or basketball game, but I'd rather not watch at all usually.
I did enjoy high school basketball, both when I attended and when I taught. It's more interesting when the players are people I know, I guess.
3. If you could pull off one piece of trendy fashion, what would you want it to be (jeggings, hats, thigh high boots, etc.)?
Skinny jeans. Simply because that would mean my legs are skinny if I was truly "pulling it off." But I'm not much of a trendy girl.
4. Did you make good grades in school?
Mostly. Grades came really easily to me (except for math!). I could be pretty lazy with studying and make an A. I am a good test-taker and I usually got my work done in class, so I didn't work very hard. I pulled a 3.9 through high school, but probably could've done a 4.3 if I had applied myself. But I enjoyed school, so that's what matters, right?
5. What magazines do you subscribe to?
I don't subscribe to any. I used to get Parents and Cosmo (one my mom never approved of he he). At one time I also got O on a regular basis.
As a kid I got Teen and Seventeen (another one Mommy didn't care for).
Friday is my absolute favorite day. It still has that feeling of Friday even though I no longer work a typical week. It's the one and only kid-free night with my love, and it's out to eat night. It's also usually a visit to Sheila's. Annnnnnnd it's also FIVE QUESTIONS! Yay!
1. What is the first nightmare you remember?
Ohhh I still remember it SO vividly. Before I had the dream, my little brother had fallen at the kitchen table and banged his noggin. Out cold. He was literally knocked out, and was only maybe two. Poor baby bubby. Anyway, he was fine, but after the incident, my mom told me if anything like that ever happened that I was to run to Lance and Linda's (our next door neighbors) and tell them and get help.
When I went to bed that night, I dreamed that a witch came to our house. It was the "typical" kid witch, with a pointy black hat and green skin. She got my mom and tied her to the woodpile we had under the carport. I kept telling her to let her go, but she refused. The witch then hinged an axe to the woodpile and CHOPPED my mama almost in half. Imagine a tree that has had a chunk sawed out so it will fall. My mama came out of the carport holding her stomach, teetering on the little skin she still had. I went running for Lance and Linda's, but halfway there I saw my mom fall down and die.
I was scared to go to sleep for weeks. I know, morbid. Since then I have always had
2. Even if you're not a sports fan, what's your favorite sport to play/watch?
But, I'm not a sports fan. I don't enjoy sports much at all. I will tolerate the occasional football game or basketball game, but I'd rather not watch at all usually.
I did enjoy high school basketball, both when I attended and when I taught. It's more interesting when the players are people I know, I guess.
3. If you could pull off one piece of trendy fashion, what would you want it to be (jeggings, hats, thigh high boots, etc.)?
Skinny jeans. Simply because that would mean my legs are skinny if I was truly "pulling it off." But I'm not much of a trendy girl.
4. Did you make good grades in school?
Mostly. Grades came really easily to me (except for math!). I could be pretty lazy with studying and make an A. I am a good test-taker and I usually got my work done in class, so I didn't work very hard. I pulled a 3.9 through high school, but probably could've done a 4.3 if I had applied myself. But I enjoyed school, so that's what matters, right?
5. What magazines do you subscribe to?
I don't subscribe to any. I used to get Parents and Cosmo (one my mom never approved of he he). At one time I also got O on a regular basis.
As a kid I got Teen and Seventeen (another one Mommy didn't care for).
Thursday, September 16, 2010
A Need to Belong
I remember sitting in my child psych class in college one morning when the teacher asked how many of us girls either had (or knew someone who had) ever had an eating disorder. Almost the entire class raised their hands. Then she asked how many of us had (or knew someone who had) been abused. Again, a majority of the hands went up. Then she asked how many of us had (or knew someone who had) been the victim of sexual misconduct. Again many hands went up.
The cynic in me wondered how many of the girls were TRUE victims of these things, and how many were over-exaggerating a situation in their lives to gain attention. Then again, I reminded myself about perspective and decided it didn't matter either way. Everyone has been hurt or mistreated at one time or another. Everyone has felt outcast at some time in her life. Everyone has felt a need to belong.
I happen to need a little real-life research for something I'm writing, and I would LOVE for you to leave me a comment here to help out. You don't have to sign in. You can remain anonymous. I don't track visitors or anything like that, so you're safe :)
So, if you would, answer one or all of the following questions, and be sure to correspond the number to your answer. Pretty please?
1. Tell me about a time you felt bullied, or just plain left-out. How did you deal with it?
2. Have you been a victim of abuse of any kind? Would you consider it mild, moderate, or severe? Elaborate if you'd like.
3. Have you ever been mean to someone just for fun? Did that person provoke you, or was it random?
4. Tell me something you've done to try to get attention (come on, we've ALL done it!)
5. What annoys you the most about other people's social behavior (ex. exaggerating situations, constant need for attention, people who are fake, people who are always sing-song happy, being calloused, cynical, etc.)?
Ok c'mon guys PLEASE give me some good stuff to work with here! You can also leave your comments on Facebook if you'd rather, or you can e-mail andrealk81@gmail.com.
Thank you!
The cynic in me wondered how many of the girls were TRUE victims of these things, and how many were over-exaggerating a situation in their lives to gain attention. Then again, I reminded myself about perspective and decided it didn't matter either way. Everyone has been hurt or mistreated at one time or another. Everyone has felt outcast at some time in her life. Everyone has felt a need to belong.
I happen to need a little real-life research for something I'm writing, and I would LOVE for you to leave me a comment here to help out. You don't have to sign in. You can remain anonymous. I don't track visitors or anything like that, so you're safe :)
So, if you would, answer one or all of the following questions, and be sure to correspond the number to your answer. Pretty please?
1. Tell me about a time you felt bullied, or just plain left-out. How did you deal with it?
2. Have you been a victim of abuse of any kind? Would you consider it mild, moderate, or severe? Elaborate if you'd like.
3. Have you ever been mean to someone just for fun? Did that person provoke you, or was it random?
4. Tell me something you've done to try to get attention (come on, we've ALL done it!)
5. What annoys you the most about other people's social behavior (ex. exaggerating situations, constant need for attention, people who are fake, people who are always sing-song happy, being calloused, cynical, etc.)?
Ok c'mon guys PLEASE give me some good stuff to work with here! You can also leave your comments on Facebook if you'd rather, or you can e-mail andrealk81@gmail.com.
Thank you!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Perspective
I've always had a pretty laid-back personality. I like to kind of drift along in life and enjoy what comes my way. I endure a lot, I don't get irritated too easily, and I'm not what I would consider 'judgmental.' I don't really have a problem with what other people do or how they live their lives, as long as it isn't negatively affecting me. I'm kind of a peace, love, and happiness girl without the hippie soul. Que sera. That kind of thing.
I realize that not everyone is like me. Some people are wound a little tighter. There is nothing wrong with that, it just makes us different. But something we all have in common is the ability to put things into perspective. And that's what I'm blogging about today, now that you've had a character introduction ;)
I remember as a teenager hearing adults say, "So-and-so doesn't even know what love IS." My mom was one of those people. So when my heart was bruised or shattered by the boy of the year, I didn't feel like my mom would understand. I vowed then to try to understand other people, and not to become unrelatable with age.
My philosophy on that topic has always been, "...but that's the (best/worst) thing (he/she) has experienced up to this point." A person of fifteen may not have the life experience in romance to know love from puppy love. She may one day look back and laugh at the boys who she was once so fond of, but when she's in that moment, it's the only experience she has. Her heart flutters, her palms sweat, and that's the MOST romantic love she's ever known. And when that boy decides to change direction, the pain and hurt she feels is the WORST thing she's ever felt.
Some people "rate" others' successes or failures based on their own. If what you're going through isn't as wonderful or tragic as something they've experienced, you best not even talk about it. I realize that someone who lost his legs in an accident would give anything to trade places with the guy whose "huge" problem is that he cut off the end of his pinky at work, but both of those people are experiencing the worst thing THEY ever dealt with.
The stay-at-home mom who feels trapped and suffocated in her (seemingly) perfect family endures heartache just as the wife who finds her husband cheating. The mother who miscarries at six weeks feels emptiness just as the mother whose teenage son dies in a car accident. It's not the same pain, but it's pain for both.
Just because we think our problems are "BIGGER" or "worse" than others, doesn't mean that person isn't enduring the WORST thing in his whole life. Just because someone's success or love story isn't as grand as ours doesn't mean it's not the best thing to ever happen to her. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget everyone hurts. Everyone loves. Everyone feels. Maybe what would be a small problem to you is life-changing to someone else. Maybe the bald chunky guy who gives you the heebie-jeebies makes someone else's life worth living. You just never know.
So next time you're ready to tell someone to "suck it up" or explain to them something MUCH more awful/amazing that happened to you, grab some perspective. Remember that no matter the cause, the worst hurt of your life is still the worst hurt of your life. No matter the size of the success, it's still a success. And everyone knows love.
I realize that not everyone is like me. Some people are wound a little tighter. There is nothing wrong with that, it just makes us different. But something we all have in common is the ability to put things into perspective. And that's what I'm blogging about today, now that you've had a character introduction ;)
I remember as a teenager hearing adults say, "So-and-so doesn't even know what love IS." My mom was one of those people. So when my heart was bruised or shattered by the boy of the year, I didn't feel like my mom would understand. I vowed then to try to understand other people, and not to become unrelatable with age.
My philosophy on that topic has always been, "...but that's the (best/worst) thing (he/she) has experienced up to this point." A person of fifteen may not have the life experience in romance to know love from puppy love. She may one day look back and laugh at the boys who she was once so fond of, but when she's in that moment, it's the only experience she has. Her heart flutters, her palms sweat, and that's the MOST romantic love she's ever known. And when that boy decides to change direction, the pain and hurt she feels is the WORST thing she's ever felt.
Some people "rate" others' successes or failures based on their own. If what you're going through isn't as wonderful or tragic as something they've experienced, you best not even talk about it. I realize that someone who lost his legs in an accident would give anything to trade places with the guy whose "huge" problem is that he cut off the end of his pinky at work, but both of those people are experiencing the worst thing THEY ever dealt with.
The stay-at-home mom who feels trapped and suffocated in her (seemingly) perfect family endures heartache just as the wife who finds her husband cheating. The mother who miscarries at six weeks feels emptiness just as the mother whose teenage son dies in a car accident. It's not the same pain, but it's pain for both.
Just because we think our problems are "BIGGER" or "worse" than others, doesn't mean that person isn't enduring the WORST thing in his whole life. Just because someone's success or love story isn't as grand as ours doesn't mean it's not the best thing to ever happen to her. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own lives that we forget everyone hurts. Everyone loves. Everyone feels. Maybe what would be a small problem to you is life-changing to someone else. Maybe the bald chunky guy who gives you the heebie-jeebies makes someone else's life worth living. You just never know.
So next time you're ready to tell someone to "suck it up" or explain to them something MUCH more awful/amazing that happened to you, grab some perspective. Remember that no matter the cause, the worst hurt of your life is still the worst hurt of your life. No matter the size of the success, it's still a success. And everyone knows love.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Farm Boys, CDs, and my Molly
It's FRIDAY AGAIN!!!! YIPEEEEEEEEEEEE! And, I have Sunday off, so I will be getting some good family time. I'm getting spoiled, oh yes I am.
Anyway, since it's Friday, you know what that means, right? FIVE Questions. :) And probably lots of friend shout-outs.
Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere we go! (Know what song that's from?)
1. Do you feel guilty spending money on yourself?
It depends. Once in a while I feel all "deserving" of a treat of some kind, and I don't mind spending on me at all, however, I have been known to feel guilty about spending on myself.
Let's go back four years and some-odd months to my preggo self. I went on a lovely shopping spree at Motherhood, and got some super-cute clothes for my baby-bump. A couple of hours later as we were eating lunch in the food court, I suddenly felt as if I were suffocating. I couldn't believe the money I'd spent on clothes I'd only wear a few months! Nevermind the world was tired of seeing me in my over-sized sweater and size-too-big brown corduroys. I quickly tried to return some of the loot, but they have a very stern NO-RETURN policy...even when they KNEW I'd only been gone an hour or two. I then told the cashier (in no uncertain terms) that they were preying on vulnerable, emotionally unstable women and they KNEW IT. Attack of the psycho-preggo lady!
I think that's the MOST guilty I ever felt, but you get the picture. I'd always rather buy something we need (more) or something for Chloe.
2. How well do you know your neighbors?
Well enough to recognize them (and their vehicles) outside my eh, um, "neigborhood," and well enough I'd ask them for help if I were stranded on the side of the road, or running from an axe murderer in my home. Bryan knows them very well, I just haven't been here long enough to know everyone. Martha is the closest I come to "knowing" one, and although we haven't ever really spoken in real-life, we are totally Facebook friends, and we have a (not-so) secret posse :)
3. What age are you looking forward to being?
I'm not looking FORWARD to being any age. I believe twenty two was the best age, and I have chosen to remain there for the rest of eternity.
When Friends first came on and I was all of oh maybe fourteen, I looked SO forward to being (gasp) thirty, because they made it look sooooo cool. Now that it is quickly approaching, I scold my younger self for having wished it upon me. Darn you teenage Andrea!
4. Do you get excited when the mail comes? Why?
I don't anymore, because I KNOW there is nothing but bills and junk. But when I was younger, oh how I couldn't wait for the mail! This was before the age of Facebook, and even before e-mail was widely popular. This was when I met friends (and cute boys) at church camp and kept in touch via mail all year long.
This was when the mission farm produced oh-so-morally wholesome easy-to-look-at twenty-somethings and the teenage girls such as myself fell madly in love with them. They would, in turn, go back to their drug-dealing ways (with the love of Jesus in their hearts), and leave our tender hearts bruised. One, however, seemingly kicked his habit and moved to the Texas gulf coast. We always had a little emotional(ly unhealthy) attraction, and he kept in touch with me via snail mail. Ohhhhh the sweet letters I used to get.
This was also the time before IPods and digital music when I was a member of the BMG music club! I received such wonderful albums as No Doubt, Bush, The Nixons, Tori Amos, Matchbox 20, ahhh the list goes on and on. No such lovely things in the mail these days :(
5. What is your earliest childhood memory?
I think the earliest thing I remember from my childhood is the last Christmas with my Grandma Willa. There are pictures, but that's not why I remember it. I remember feelings.
My cousin, Molly, was a newborn baby, and I was all of two years old (almost three!) Grandma had been too sick to shop, but had asked someone to get us babydolls (I think). I got this life-sized baby-doll with blinky eyes. She was a great doll. But my cousin Misty got a Cabbage Patch, and BOY was I jealous! I didn't have any yet and that was a HOT item in those days!
Anyway, I named my baby doll Molly, after my super cute cousin. My grandma died in February after I turned three, and I became very attached to my Molly dolly. She was numero uno, and I didn't go to Lindsey's house, or anywhere over night, without her until I was um...maybe in fifth grade? I KNOW! But Lindsey understood. She had a baby, too ;) Molly is still with me (that's her today), now sleeping on Chloe's top bunk teaching all the newbie dolls how to roll!
I also remember that Grandma had a Cabbage Patch doll of her own she asked my grandpa to give me. I would say she knew I wanted one so badly, and she wanted me to have hers. I remember going to get it that day, and how Mom told me not to ask about Grandma, or the doll. Grandpa hadn't forgotten, though, and he made sure I went home with her. That baby's name is Willa Mae, and she's still in perfect condition, now sleeping on my mom's bed.
I think about these things often, and wonder what Chloe is keeping in her memory from these very early days. You just never know.
Anyway, since it's Friday, you know what that means, right? FIVE Questions. :) And probably lots of friend shout-outs.
Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere we go! (Know what song that's from?)
1. Do you feel guilty spending money on yourself?
It depends. Once in a while I feel all "deserving" of a treat of some kind, and I don't mind spending on me at all, however, I have been known to feel guilty about spending on myself.
Let's go back four years and some-odd months to my preggo self. I went on a lovely shopping spree at Motherhood, and got some super-cute clothes for my baby-bump. A couple of hours later as we were eating lunch in the food court, I suddenly felt as if I were suffocating. I couldn't believe the money I'd spent on clothes I'd only wear a few months! Nevermind the world was tired of seeing me in my over-sized sweater and size-too-big brown corduroys. I quickly tried to return some of the loot, but they have a very stern NO-RETURN policy...even when they KNEW I'd only been gone an hour or two. I then told the cashier (in no uncertain terms) that they were preying on vulnerable, emotionally unstable women and they KNEW IT. Attack of the psycho-preggo lady!
I think that's the MOST guilty I ever felt, but you get the picture. I'd always rather buy something we need (more) or something for Chloe.
2. How well do you know your neighbors?
Well enough to recognize them (and their vehicles) outside my eh, um, "neigborhood," and well enough I'd ask them for help if I were stranded on the side of the road, or running from an axe murderer in my home. Bryan knows them very well, I just haven't been here long enough to know everyone. Martha is the closest I come to "knowing" one, and although we haven't ever really spoken in real-life, we are totally Facebook friends, and we have a (not-so) secret posse :)
3. What age are you looking forward to being?
I'm not looking FORWARD to being any age. I believe twenty two was the best age, and I have chosen to remain there for the rest of eternity.
When Friends first came on and I was all of oh maybe fourteen, I looked SO forward to being (gasp) thirty, because they made it look sooooo cool. Now that it is quickly approaching, I scold my younger self for having wished it upon me. Darn you teenage Andrea!
4. Do you get excited when the mail comes? Why?
I don't anymore, because I KNOW there is nothing but bills and junk. But when I was younger, oh how I couldn't wait for the mail! This was before the age of Facebook, and even before e-mail was widely popular. This was when I met friends (and cute boys) at church camp and kept in touch via mail all year long.
This was when the mission farm produced oh-so-
This was also the time before IPods and digital music when I was a member of the BMG music club! I received such wonderful albums as No Doubt, Bush, The Nixons, Tori Amos, Matchbox 20, ahhh the list goes on and on. No such lovely things in the mail these days :(
5. What is your earliest childhood memory?
I think the earliest thing I remember from my childhood is the last Christmas with my Grandma Willa. There are pictures, but that's not why I remember it. I remember feelings.
My cousin, Molly, was a newborn baby, and I was all of two years old (almost three!) Grandma had been too sick to shop, but had asked someone to get us babydolls (I think). I got this life-sized baby-doll with blinky eyes. She was a great doll. But my cousin Misty got a Cabbage Patch, and BOY was I jealous! I didn't have any yet and that was a HOT item in those days!
Anyway, I named my baby doll Molly, after my super cute cousin. My grandma died in February after I turned three, and I became very attached to my Molly dolly. She was numero uno, and I didn't go to Lindsey's house, or anywhere over night, without her until I was um...maybe in fifth grade? I KNOW! But Lindsey understood. She had a baby, too ;) Molly is still with me (that's her today), now sleeping on Chloe's top bunk teaching all the newbie dolls how to roll!
I also remember that Grandma had a Cabbage Patch doll of her own she asked my grandpa to give me. I would say she knew I wanted one so badly, and she wanted me to have hers. I remember going to get it that day, and how Mom told me not to ask about Grandma, or the doll. Grandpa hadn't forgotten, though, and he made sure I went home with her. That baby's name is Willa Mae, and she's still in perfect condition, now sleeping on my mom's bed.
I think about these things often, and wonder what Chloe is keeping in her memory from these very early days. You just never know.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
This Too Shall PassIsn't Going Away
We have all had struggles in our lives. Some are large, some are small, some are in-between. Some are life-changing, while others are just a pain in the neck. Lately I have encountered a couple of rather major struggles. Without going into detail, they have taken an emotional and financial toll on me.
My natural instinct in times of trouble is to take care of it myself. It's what I'm used to, and I'm a bit hard-headed. I don't like to ask for help or admit that I need help. So when I finally swallow my (oh-so-hard-to-digest) pride and ask, I'm pretty vulnerable and desperate.
The situation I am in now is resolvable, but there are a lot of factors, and a few different possible outcomes. I need help. When I finally did express my needs to a couple of family members/close friends, do you know what their advice/help was? "Try not to worry about it."
WOW! Am I GLAD I asked YOU! I never ever would have thought to just STOP worrying about it!
There are a few people in my life who FRUSTRATE me. They think ignoring a problem makes it go away. If we don't think about it or talk about it, it doesn't exist. Just stop worrying about it. I'm not sure about you, but I don't seem to have conscious control of my worries.
Probably some of the best advice I've ever received was from a close friend of mine a few months back. She said to me, "Andrea, you can't keep ignoring this. You have to do something. This isn't going away." SLAP! Not what I WANTED to hear, but what I NEEDED to hear. She also went on to help me figure out what the solution should be and how I would handle whatever outcome was dealt. It was much easier to deal with once I had a plan and felt in control.
Why do we advise others to try not to worry? Is it because we don't want them to worry US with it? Maybe. Is it because we don't have the answer? Possibly. Is it because we don't care? Could be.
With my situation, I didn't need organs donated or large sums of money. I called on a family member who has some connections that could make things easier (and cheaper) on me. I called on someone when I needed a shoulder to cry on and dump all my anxiety to. Neither of those came through for me.
Basically what I am getting at is that we have all needed help at one time or another. So next time a friend comes to you and confides or explains a problem they are having, think about what you would need in that situation. If you can't give them what they need, I bet you could listen sympathetically, support them, and understand their worry and frustration.
Just whatever you do, PLEASE don't tell them not to worry. I'd say they already tried that one.
My natural instinct in times of trouble is to take care of it myself. It's what I'm used to, and I'm a bit hard-headed. I don't like to ask for help or admit that I need help. So when I finally swallow my (oh-so-hard-to-digest) pride and ask, I'm pretty vulnerable and desperate.
The situation I am in now is resolvable, but there are a lot of factors, and a few different possible outcomes. I need help. When I finally did express my needs to a couple of family members/close friends, do you know what their advice/help was? "Try not to worry about it."
WOW! Am I GLAD I asked YOU! I never ever would have thought to just STOP worrying about it!
There are a few people in my life who FRUSTRATE me. They think ignoring a problem makes it go away. If we don't think about it or talk about it, it doesn't exist. Just stop worrying about it. I'm not sure about you, but I don't seem to have conscious control of my worries.
Probably some of the best advice I've ever received was from a close friend of mine a few months back. She said to me, "Andrea, you can't keep ignoring this. You have to do something. This isn't going away." SLAP! Not what I WANTED to hear, but what I NEEDED to hear. She also went on to help me figure out what the solution should be and how I would handle whatever outcome was dealt. It was much easier to deal with once I had a plan and felt in control.
Why do we advise others to try not to worry? Is it because we don't want them to worry US with it? Maybe. Is it because we don't have the answer? Possibly. Is it because we don't care? Could be.
With my situation, I didn't need organs donated or large sums of money. I called on a family member who has some connections that could make things easier (and cheaper) on me. I called on someone when I needed a shoulder to cry on and dump all my anxiety to. Neither of those came through for me.
Basically what I am getting at is that we have all needed help at one time or another. So next time a friend comes to you and confides or explains a problem they are having, think about what you would need in that situation. If you can't give them what they need, I bet you could listen sympathetically, support them, and understand their worry and frustration.
Just whatever you do, PLEASE don't tell them not to worry. I'd say they already tried that one.
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