JustKellyHere

Gotta Love Google...

2011-11-29T23:04:00.001-05:00

I love statistics. Even when I have hardly any readers, I love to check my blog stats and wonder about who my readers were... especially since I had several hits on a two year-old post recently.

I began to wonder what in the world brought so many people to this particular post, so I checked to find the keyword searches these visitors used. I admit, I had to laugh when I saw the search phrases that brought them to me:

The phrases that brought most of these recent visitors to the blog were:

- 7 1/2 emerald peek tree martha stewart

- emerald peak tree martha stewart fuse

- martha stewart 7 1 2 emerald peak tree instructions

- k-mart emerald peak tree

- martha stewart christmas tree emerald peak assembly instructions

- martha stewart emerald peak 7 1/2 ft christmas tree

- martha stewart emerald peak christmas tree

- martha stewart emerald peak tree

Apparently, my newest readers don't have any better luck than I do....

I just checked, that particular post is one of the top Google results you get using the above keywords. So, actually, their luck is worse, because when they went to find a solution to their decorating dilemma, they got... well... me.

Needless to say, Delmer's favorite annual post is coming soon....

;-)

(P.S. If you didn't click on the "better luck" link above you can go to December 2009 in the Archive and read the post titled "Humbug" to see why Google associates me with Martha Stewart trees)

MC Antics, Part 2

2011-11-17T22:10:00.001-05:00

I left my treatment planner book (the one I needed to do homework) at work. This morning I had to go meet up with the MC at his regular pre-work stop so I could pick up the book, hurry home, and get busy. (Where does he go every morning? I could tell ya, but I'd have to kill ya).

I asked a lady at said location if she'd seen him. She gave me a puzzled look.

Me: Oh, I'm his intern.

Nice Lady: Oh, you're Kelly, is that right?

Me: Yes, but I'm not as bad as he says, I promise.

Nice Lady: Oh no, I've heard him talk about you. He says you're awesome.

Wow. I've worked really hard in this internship, but to find out he bragged about me? I had to turn my head to keep her from seeing a little tear in the corner of my eye.

I think you're awesome, too, MC.

It's just that my friends know better than to let you in on it!

Quick Post for the Fans of the MC

2011-11-16T17:28:00.001-05:00

The semester is almost over... I may see daylight again... I just had to share this with you guys.

On Tuesdays I ride with the MC to one of our work sites in another county. We were consulting about one of his "older clients" on the way.

The MC: Man, I hope when I get old I'm not that crabby.

I almost spit coffee all over the windshield.

Editing

2011-10-18T16:21:00.000-04:00

Today, I went back and changed something in my blog.

I wrote this earlier post carefully. I never really thought of my blog as something "widely" read... especially not locally. However, to the persons involved in the story, two identities were obvious. At the time, I really thought I had offered the benefit of the doubt to those people. Honestly, I didn't think they would ever read it, or care what my thoughts were.

Not only did they read it, as I learned today, they were LED to it by others. I also learned that they were very hurt by it.

When I wrote the post, I was careful not to accuse any particular person of any wrong doing. I questioned their thinking, but I should have done that in a private conversation with them: not in conversations with others and not on my blog. The worst part is, while I have questioned their motives, I've honestly always given those motives the benefit of the doubt in my heart. Unfortunately, upon re-reading the entry, I can see why it didn't seem that way.

Today, I ran into one of those people. I noticed a "cool" attitude. I reached out again. This person let me know that my words had hurt. I must say, I admire this person for addressing the issue with me rather than letting it sit. I should have offered this person the same, a long time ago.

Did I really feel the things I wrote at the time? Yes, I did, but, I should have been more careful to point out that the hurtful acts I mentioned in the post had not been committed by the two who could be identified. I have redacted those portions of that entry, but the damage is done. Those people are hurt, and I had never spoken to them about my feelings in the first place. I should have had a conversation with them; I should have heard them out.

So, to any readers who recognize the players in this entry, or even those who don't: it's how I felt at the time, but I wasn't careful with my words and people who have never done anything to me were hurt. It wasn't fair. It was wrong.

I can't "fix" that, though I wish I could. All I can do, as I promised the person I spoke with today, is remove those parts of the post, and offer a truly heartfelt apology.

I am so very sorry.

Cleaning It Up for Fun and...

2011-09-02T10:50:00.002-04:00

Who are we kidding, I want recognition from people I don't even know. Which is bad... more on that later.

You may have noticed when the blog opened that something was missing. Don't fret, the playlist is still there, you just have to turn it on yourself now. Apparently, auto-play playlists on blogs are annoying... who knew?

And... so are archive lists that are too long. And lists of blogs I read... and... and..

Did I mention I broke the toilet yesterday? I did.

For some strange reason, (although I have bought and installed replacement kits on 2 separate occasions), the little stopper inside the tank goes off track more often than it stays in place... meaning the drain is not plugged I have to take the lid off the tank to get it back in place or face a huge water bill from the water running running running trying to fill the tank.

Yesterday, the lid slipped from my hands and I dropped it (just a few inches!) and it hit the back of the bowl part.

See that hole?

I didn't think that hole was a big deal, just ugly, something I'd get around to replacing when life wasn't quite so ~~sucky~~ busy.

"MOMMA! The water's running into the floor!" (Clean water from the tank, not the "other" water.)

"(Sigh) Don't worry, you guys are just going to have to use the other bathroom until Momma can fix it."

Later in the evening, à la Bil Keane, somebody snuck into the house and used the broken toilet!

The Culprit? NOT ME!!!

That's okay Mr. NOT ME... I fixed your little wagon...

Let's see the smarmy little (*%*&^$* get past THAT!

Ahem!

So in a few minutes I'm off to buy a toilet and ~~ruin~~ spend part of the rest of my day installing it.

What did I start this post with? Oh, yeah, changes to the blog.

I was thinking of submitting JustKellyHere in for a blog review. I checked the review site, and apparently they HATE auto-play playlists, long archive lists (Mine isn't that long. Does that archive list make my butt look big?) and (their words) Long A** Linky Love Lists. (I like links. I care about my links. They stay.)

I read some of their site and they don't seem very nice. Do I really want to submit my little love-labor to these evil folks for them to tear apart? Well, there is the remote chance they'd like it, and isn't it fun when that person who hates everybody, hates everybody, but you?

Maybe that's why sites set up for the sole purpose of making fun of people are so popular, so we can look at them and think "At least that's NOT ME."

Ya know what? I don't need their approval. More power to them as they do what they do, but I'm taking my little blog and going home.

So, you guys rate JustKellyHere. Please tell me what you like and what you don't in the comments. Let me know if you want the playlist put back on auto-play.

I'm going to buy a toilet.

Okay, So I'm Full of Myself. Meanwhile, you can fill up on Five-Minute Chocolate Cake

2011-08-25T18:03:00.007-04:00

The MC asked me why I blog. He does. not. get. it. When I tried to answer him, I didn't get it either, or at least not well enough to tell him. I told him about always wanting to write, the original mission of this blog and so on.

What surprised me was he didn't call BS. (I hope because the answer I gave him was mostly true.) The teensy part I didn't mention (but I'm sure he knows) is that blogging appeals to my ego. I'm owning up to it. The idea that people actually come see what I'm up to, actually enjoy reading what I write, feeds that little sucker. This especially true since I started monitoring hits with a couple stat counters.. it's so fun to see that little spike in the graph! (Besides, you people are so stingy with comments... I digress.) I also noticed that when I blog more often, I get more hits per entry... go figure. Gotta keep it current.

So, with that in mind, I recently made a deal with myself to blog more often, shooting for twice a week. I realize I'm going to have to be entertaining to keep you coming back. Unfortunately, my brain is shutting down from papers and studying and school projects and work projects and elementary school stuff, and kid stuff and Friends' stuff and my stuff and at some point if I kept going along this vein your eyes would being seeing the words but your brain would be hearing the following, and you'd probably be doing what Peppermint Patty is doing here:

So, I've been scoping out other blogs for sources of entertainment for you people. One technique I discovered for those "hard to come up with material" days is the photo essay.

SO, for your entertainment and edification, I now present to you a photo essay from a recipe someone sent me on email. I actually posted this on Facebook about 6 months ago... but I'm short on brainpower and this is easy. If you don't enjoy it, I'm sorry. (But will you please please please keep coming back anyway?)

Five Minute Chocolate Cake

Warning! Dangerous! Continue at your own risk! If you read this you will be only five minutes away from chocolate cake at any given time!!!!

First you need these... a tablespoon a butter knife...
and you also need a large coffee mug (not shown)

Put 4 tablespoons of this in the mug

Then 4 tablespoons of this

Then 2 tablespoons of this...
Stir all the dry ingredients with the butter knife until
well blended...

Break this and put it in the mug...
Stir stir stir with the butter knife until well blended...

Add 3 tablespoons of this

Then 3 tablespoons of this...
Stir stir stir

Now 3 tablespoons of these, stir stir stir

Just a splash of this, stir, stir stir

All stirred up it looks like this!

Pop it in here, if it's 1000 watt, just set for 3 minutes,
if it's stronger, lower the power setting.
I set mine for 9 but I think 8 might have been better.
It will start growing

And growing

And GROWING EVEN MORE!!!
(Next time I think I will try a bigger mug,
but the recipe said it would grow out of the top)

Take your butter knife and run it around the edges...
Dump it on a plate...
Have a little taste...

And the verdict is... pretty darn tasty! *

Makes enough for 3 really, but B.B. didn't want any!
Ice cream makes it PERFECT!

Enjoy!

* Thanks for playing, uh, neighbor kid...

Dealing with Frustration in a Therapeutically and Nutritionally Sound Manner

2011-08-22T23:47:00.010-04:00

Arrrgh!

The MC and I had a conversation about this very expression the other day.

I was typing out some paperwork, hit a snag, emitted a quiet but frustrated, "Arrgh!"

(The) MC: How do you do that?

Me: What?

MC: You do it all the time. Wait, let me back up, when you make that noise, are you completely thrown or can you go right back to it?

Me: I go right back to it, why?

MC: I couldn't. That would throw me completely.

Me: You learn how. I do that to get my frustration out.

MC: (Snickering) So you're saying you let it out a little at at a time so you don't get impatient, like, say, I do?

Me. Your words not mine, Dude, your words not mine.

Aaaand speaking of frustration and impatience...

B.B. is still pretty excited about kindergarten, all except for the walking everyday at recess.

What? You say your kindergartener didn't have to do that? That could be because your kindergartener isn't as ~~evil~~ high-spirited as Little Miss Boo. In a week and a half she's managed to go ONE WHOLE DAY with no punishable offenses. YAAAY B.B.! One day in 10! Let's shoot for 2 next week!

She was quick to point out she only had to walk for 5 minutes of her recess today, usually she gets ten minutes. Hey, improvement's improvement, I'll take it.

Momma (me, not MY Momma) is rather diggin' the Kindergarten scene, too. For this one year, I have both babies under the same roof. Driving to only one location (rather than all over L-town) every morning is Suh-weet!

That said, time diminished my memories of what Kindergartener-parenting entailed. I've been spoiled by the angelic Miss P.D. of the upper-elementary grades. P.D. does her homework. P.D. only needs Momma to check her backpack periodically. Fifth-graders (Fifth grade? Where did the time go?) aren't required to bring in snack for the whole class once a month.

I had also forgotten the rigors of 702 KAR 6:090. What's 702 KAR 6:090 you ask? It is the Kentucky "Minimum nutritional standards for foods and beverages available on public school campuses during the school day"

You buy that don't you? I don't. I've seen what they serve through the cafeteria... However, it IS the standard sent home with the note telling you that you need to get ready for your child's snack day turn. Kindly enough, they also send a list of 45 pre-approved, pre-packaged snacks for you to choose from at your shopping leisure. How convenient!

B.B.'s day to bring snack is tomorrow. I told P.D. to put a check by the ones she thought would be the best so I wouldn't end up buying B.B. a "nerdy" snack for her first snack day. Nothing but coolness for my baby. That pecking order forms early. P.D. made some good choices, Baked chips, animal crackers, Teddy Grahams... easy, right? Everybody carries the little individual packages of these items, right?

Uh, no. No they don't.

We strolled non-nonchalantly through the L-town Kroger this afternoon without a care in the world. We only needed a few items, it was only 4:45, we'd take our time and enjoy our shopping. At just over 3/4 of the way through the store, maybe Aisle 12, we arrived in the "cracker" aisle, perfect place to find pre-packaged animal crackers, or Cheese Nips or Teddy Grahams, right?

Animal Crackers? Wrong brand. Cheese Nips? None. Teddy Grahams? Wrong size package. Nabisco 100 Calorie Wheat Thin Packs? No multi-packages containing only the Wheat Thins, but variety packs with the Wheat Thins and 2 kinds that weren't on the list. That's okay, the 720 KAR 6:090 guidelines are right here on the list, only 3 main criteria to worry about: Sugar Content, Percent of Calories from Fat, and Sodium Content. Let me check on the back of these other two bad boys... at only 100 calories they gotta pass, right?

Fail.

After 20 minutes of this, we trouped back across the store to the breakfast food, Aisle 4: list in hand, forget cool. Surely Kroger would have

Chex Morning Mix snack packs? No.

Single serving packages of:

Kellogg's Corn Flakes? No.
Frosted Mini Wheats? No.
Raisin Bran? No.
Good Old Cheerios? No.

We reversed direction, this time to Aisle 13, the chip aisle. Where the heck were the Baked Lay's mini bags? Luckily a nice young man in a Kroger shirt happened by. I showed him the list and he mentioned a couple items he thought they might have in stock. He also directed me to the Lay's variety packs. (B.B.'s number one choice by this time) Back in Aisle 1. *sigh*

We arrived back in the bread section to find the correctly-sized bags of chips, Yaay!

None of these were baked chips, as required by 720 KAR 6:090 ... Booooooo.

We trudged back to Aisle 4 in search of the Quaker Chewy Granola bars, Chocolate Chips. The heavens opened up and an ethereal light shone down, the "angel" music played... lo and behold, LEGAL* SNACKS!!!!

Except, B.B. said, "NO Mommy! That's what we had for snack TODAY! Those aren't very good, Mommy."

I'm exhausted. By this time it's almost 6:30. Yet, how could I send my baby daughter, on her very first turn for snack-day, to school with a snack she didn't even like? That would just be cruel! Yet, in adherence with the nutritional wisdom of the 1990 Kentucky General Assembly, I HAD to comply with 720 KAR 6:090, right?

We made a different selection.

This was the one other item at the L-town Kroger that met the criteria espoused by 720 KAR 6:090, and therefore, made it to the "acceptable" list:

Banana-Flavored Cream-Filled Cakes covered in Crisco! YUM!!!!

*Sigh* Only in Kentucky....

*Kroger also had the Quaker Chewy Granola Bars in PEANUT BUTTER Chocolate Chip, (as approved on the list) but as any good elementary-school-aged child's mother knows, you go to hell for sending any product containing peanuts to school.

New Site... Together We Can Grow a Garden

2011-08-17T22:50:00.009-04:00

Amy "Sweetness" Matalka

Okay, FIRST go here: http://plantasimpleseed.blogspot.com/ and then come back.

I was sent a link to this site earlier tonight. It's pretty self-explanatory, but, in case you miss this message in the comments, I'm including it here:

To get cards, send an email to Marygina@fuse.net... we are working on a PDF download which will be added to this page soon!

Readers, followers, blogger buddies, get on board, please. Send that email. Post it on your sites. Pass it on.

Aaaaah! and Texting with the MC

2011-08-16T23:11:00.008-04:00

Okay, all of you who encouraged me and said I could do this grad school thing and be a single mom and hold a job/manage an internship: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!!!

If you're guilty of this, please raise your hand...

(Looking up seeing hand) Oh, this was originally MY idea wasn't it? (Well, sort of)

I have 4 baskets of clean laundry still waiting to be folded... (Okay, so that's not really new).

I have a new shower curtain somewhere in this mess that once resembled our living space... if I could find it to put it up...

I have a passel of car-wash supplies I bought 2 weeks ago (not to mention a gently used wet/dry vac Daddy gave me 3 weeks ago) hoping I'd find an 2-hour window in which to attack Kermit...

My hair is longer than it's ever been... not because I want it long but because I can't find time to get it cut.

I have SERIOUS grad-school Senioritis...

I have children who are starting to forget what I look like...

Hopefully, I'll remedy some of that this weekend. Then... between Monday, August 22 and Thanksgiving I'll have two (count them, 1, 2) of sixteen weekends off until Thanksgiving. I will have eight (count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 6, 7, and 8) internship classes to attend from 6-9 pm on every other Thursday night. I will have clinic on Tuesdays, which means no getting home before 7 pm on seventeen (count them 1, 2, 3... oh nevermind) Tuesdays in that period. Oh, and that doesn't even touch the HOMEWORK I'll be doing, the tests I'll have to take.

But then, I'll be DONE. At least with THIS chapter's struggles. MAN I want a cigarette, but I'm 3 months, 2 weeks and 11 hours smoke-free, so I can't even do THAT!!!

Speaking of done, I'm wrapping up this semester's paperwork this week. Part of that is my evaluation of the Master Counselor, (the MC) then his evaluation of me. As you may have guessed, every now and then, I have to remind Mr. OCD to take a breath to avoid a freak-out. Last night, I had class at 6, but 5:50 I hadn't heard from my babysitter and had to call for backup... knowing class had already begun while I waited. No pressure. To amuse myself, I texted the MC.

Me: What's that I'm always telling you to do? Breathe?

MC: Yes, what's up?

Me: Babysitter didn't show. Waiting for backup... I'm okay... Just not breathing. :-/

Later, in internship class, I got his reply:

MC: S--t happens! (yes, he put the dashes in... sometimes he chooses to show a semblence of tact)

Me: Be nice to me. I'm evaluating you as we speak.

MC: Ya but don't forget, I play a role role in your FINAL grade.

Me: Look here you old coot, you should be looking for grade HIGHER than an A to give to me for putting up with your S--t!

(Okay, so I didn't really send that last one, but I WANTED to.)

Cussing and Conversating* with Cap

2011-08-13T15:05:00.001-04:00

Okay, one of the things I've debated in writing my blog is the cuss-factor. I went for years without saying a cuss word. I grew up around cussing, so in a way it's part of how I learned to communicate. (You like how I rationalized that, don't you?)

Facebook put me back in touch with many old friends... friends who knew me when I cussed like a sailor... and I found cussing creeping back into my vocabulary. I rarely cuss in my blog, (I won't say never, because as soon as I do someone will point out at least 3 examples, and I can think of some). I try to keep it pretty clean in the blog because most of the traffic here comes from Facebook and I have my theatre babies, nieces, nephews and cousins in my friend lists. On a rare occasion, a story or exchange is just funnier with a cuss-word in it. It just is.

I say all that to say this: the upcoming link includes cussing. I would say all kinds of nice things about making blog friends, but Cap said it for me. And maybe since I'm directing you to it, I'll learn not to be so horrified that she posted it....

Cap's Betrayal

* "Conversating" is a word from Cap's blog.

Cheat Post

2011-08-09T23:28:00.009-04:00

Besides internally debating whether to tell you people about the topic-I-say-I-am-avoiding, I've also been busy working on the "Book of Me" for my Life-cycle Class. I have different assignments for different pages of the book.

I am NOT creative in visual arts. I wish I was. In fact, I wished SO HARD that I was, my journalism degree has a emphasis in advertising and PR... I designed ads for much of the early part of my after-college career. I'm pretty good at figuring out how to use publishing software. I know what I like when I see it. I can create a decent logo and "thematic plan" for company stationery. I can re-create what I see with the right tools, but creating visual magnificence in my own?

Uh, not really.

So, this assignment has been taxing to say the least. I want my stuff to be phenomenal... but the grade doesn't require visual phenomenal. I don't think I'm capable of visual phenomenal anyway. I settled for quick and dirty.

However, I think Dr. A has been sufficiently impressed at my ability to accomplish the unstated goals, while effectively rebelling against the stated parameters, of each and every assignment. Mostly 'cause I'm just charming enough to get by with it. If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle 'em....*

Anyway, since I've been so busy with that stuff, I'm cheating tonight and posting the first assignment, The "Now" of my Life. The assignment (the abbreviated version) was:

Get a recent picture of yourself. Glue it to the center of the memory-book paper. Cut out symbols from the magazines and catalogs to describe:
Your greatest achievement

A disappointment

Your values

Relationships that are important for you today

Hobbies

A wish or wishes for the future **

Glue these symbols around your picture. Try NOT to cut out words,*** because symbols can be more graphic. Once you have your collage, use your writing paper to describe what the symbols mean. Write a summary about yourself as you are today.

(When you read the write up, you have to pretend you don't really know me and haven't read How Widowhood Has Impacted My Life a million times, K? K.)

The phrases correspond to the bold type in the write up.
If you click on the picture it will blow it up. I recommend right-clicking
and opening in another tab or window.

The Now of My Life

As I expected, I had a great deal of difficulty finding “symbols” to represent my life. The assignment specified to try to use symbols instead of words, but no pictures I found seemed to reflect my current experiences, values and mindset. Besides, I love to write, I love words.

Although I don’t expect I will see myself as “Deat’s Widow” forever, our marriage, and his life has been the most relevant factor influencing every aspect of my world during the past 13 years. I know his death and the changes it brought continued to impact nearly every facet of the past 3 and ½, as is reflected in the choices I made for this page.

We start this page in the top right corner, and move clockwise.

The most important of these is the be well, the theme to recovering from this loss, particularly since I often wondered if “well” was something I’d ever be again. My “little problem solvers” are my daughters, and my motivators when I wasn’t finding motivation in any other realm, when I was “hitting myself in the head.” The three of us were/are: “THE BRAVE,” standing together in the face of a devastating loss and facing the world together. Oh, and we are “Incredibly Nice.”

Still, motivation wasn’t enough. Merely surviving wasn’t enough. Depression and sadness was a dead end. I had to set a goal for the future: to get organized, to find joy in the family life I have instead of lamenting the one we had planned but were denied. Perhaps the most empowering step in that process was making the decision to return to school for my master’s degree.

Our life changes still present challenges, and sometimes not everyone in the house is on board with the sacrifices we have to make to get to this new place… sometimes Mommy’s Little Monster rears her little head. But, Life LIVES in our house. Between the positive changes we’re making, our old friends and the new friends who have come into our lives, I have to say,

I’m Blessed.

* Five extra points for finishing that phrase

** Ten points for finding every one of those things in the write up. (Hurry, I have to tell Dr. A where they are!)
*** I never have excelled in the "follows directions" column of my report card...

Where Was I?

2011-08-04T01:41:00.007-04:00

Where've I been? Indecisiveville!

Luckily, I wasn't driving Kermit to get there. I drove the MC in Kermit to lunch earlier today... (Yaaay! Lunch is primo MC-brain-picking time.) I asked the MC about a sound Kermit was making and he listed a couple things it could be, stressing that I needed to get it checked out soon.

Where was I? Yes, Indecisiveville. (And apparently A.D.D.-ville as well... ahem!)

I wasn't sure what I thought, how I felt, what I should do about several different issues... and I wasn't even sure how to put those things into words. I still don't know, but at least I don't feel as lost as I did.

As some of you know The Gusto Theatre managed to put on 2 more shows after the one they originally planned to end with. The final show was this past Sunday, but I had to be out of town. I felt horrible that I wasn't there with my Theatre Babies. In the days leading up to that final show and each day since, I've felt I needed to write something earth-shatteringly touching and special, just to honor my love for each and every one one of them.

Tonight though, thinking it over, I don't think I could write anything wonderful enough to live up to my love for them. I know, they know. My hope for them is one they'll recognize, a favorite quote of Mr. Dowell's....

In the words of Theodore Roosevelt (who will in my mind, will forever sound a lot like our beloved Jonathan):

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.

I read that again, and it kind of/sort of segues me right back into talking about working with the Master Counselor. For the last couple weeks, I've been wondering whether I would continue to intern with him next semester. It's not that I wanted to leave, I wasn't sure that he wanted me to stay.

As I've said before, the program he's developed is pretty amazing... and his passion for helping the population he serves is undeniably infectious. However, as I've also said before, he can be very gruff... in some ways easy to read but in others, not so much. Several pow-wows later, and I still don't want to leave, gruff though he may be. He puts himself out there, really doing something to help, and I can't help to want to be a part of that in whatever way I can be. God isn't showing me indications that I should leave, so until HE says it's time to go, I'll stay.

Later this afternoon I had a major screw up... something I couldn't help, but in a moment of OCD panic, the MC called me on the carpet. I listened with complete calm as he said his piece, turned on his heel and disappeared into his office. My typical MO in previous years, heck even recent months, in such a situation would have been to become overwhelmed and then to burst into tears. Today however, I didn't bat an eye. Later, when he called me in to discuss it, he was completely fair with me and understood completely the choices I had made and that in the process of learning I was bound to make mistakes. I've pondered if my calm came from simply moving out of my depression recently, if it showed growth on my part (some of it due to his example), or if it was simply from knowing that he WOULD be fair with me as soon as he calmed down. We have a good working relationship, an acceptance of one another, warts and all. And that's worth sticking around for.

Finally, I've been debating how much to share with you all about some other issues in my life. Cap says I should, but Cap is braver than me. I'm not sure what you'll think, I'm not sure if I'll look silly. (You know it's major if I'm CONCERNED about looking silly).Then again, this-topic-I-say-I-am-avoiding could be nothing at all but a cheap ploy to get you to come back hoping I'll spill my guts. Tune in next time...

I think I'll just wait until something in that situation happens that is so funny that I'll have to share it with you guys for the cheap laugh. I'll do anything for the cheap laugh.

Oh, I'm sure there's more I could write, but I have to get up in the morning to take Kermit to the dealership to get him checked out. Halfway home this afternoon, the MC called to remind me that I needed to go SOON. :) He won't admit it, but he likes working with me, too.

A Good Reminder

2011-07-25T22:58:00.000-04:00

Sorry I haven't been around... tons going on and I really haven't come to any logical conclusions as to how I feel about much of it... so I've been debating and hiating (the verb form or hiatus... I just made that up! I think...) with myself.

In the interim, however, I figured I'd better put SOMETHING up to entertain. Actually, for this link, I think "uplifted" is a better description to how I felt when I read it. Enjoy:

http://www.wkyt.com/blogs/sanctified/Living_in_the_Margin_124286624.html

Tidying Up

2011-07-16T19:29:00.000-04:00

Sigh...

The world encroaches yet again on my imaginary playground...

I knew this day was coming, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. Early on in my schooling for counseling, I learned that I'd have to be very private about my private life. I realized that I'd have to "fix" my blog. I just didn't expect it would be so soon. I didn't realize it would be so easy to "stumble" across it.

Someone ran a search using bare facts about me... and found it lickety-split. I'm not angry with the searcher, I would have been curious, too. I just didn't realize I'd be found so easily... even without my last name. I've removed my last name, and I'm undergoing the painstaking process of finding every instance with the girls' names and changing those. You'll find their identifiers in "Peeps"... sigh.

"P.D." hates her new name, and I don't blame her. I hate that I have to change it, that's not the name I gave her. Although part of me still feels that people are basically good and doesn't think anyone would use the information here against me... it's not my place to be so trusting. My job is to err on the side of caution in any matter that could impact my babies.

I'm wondering if I should change the name of the town I live in, or my hometown, or Deat's hometown. They're all three pretty small places. I want to complain some more, but I have to get back at it.

Please pardon the mess while we undergo reconstruction.

A Distraction Beats Flowers... No Contest

2011-07-08T22:58:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure how to write about this, how to handle it in the best way, but I have to try.

A blogger friend of mine's mother went into the hospital yesterday. It's easy to tell from her writing that she and her mom share a wonderful relationship... heck, I love her mother and I've only read about her. Her mom has had several health problems in the last couple years... and I could "read" the fear in my friend's "voice" in yesterday's post. I hurt for her, because I remember.

I remember what it was like to watch the physical deterioration of someone you love and feel powerless to do anything about it. I remember the second-guessing you put yourself through, only wanting the very best for this person, a person you love so much you'd trade places with in a minute because their well-being is THAT important to you. I remember the anger you feel at anyone else involved in their care because they just aren't doing ENOUGH... don't they know how important this is? I remember the LONG stretches of time in the hospital, just waiting, waiting to see what's coming... hoping upon hope it won't be the worst.

I remember trying to read to break up the time... to try to find something, anything to be a distraction from what this hospital stay COULD mean. And I remember being unable to focus long enough to even get through first chapter of the book I bought the day of his first hospitalization... even though I tried during each of his five hospital stays. (I didn't actually read it until over a year after he died).

So, I thought to myself, what did I WANT people to do? I wanted them to distract me. I wanted them to show the customary concern for what was happening, then I wanted them to talk about ANYTHING else. Walk me to the cafeteria for a snack or some dinner. Engage me in anything that gave me a few brief minutes when I could think about something else... especially something that would make me laugh. Either that or just LISTEN to me talk about what was happening, out loud, to help me get a handle on it.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen very often. I don't BLAME anyone or feel resentment that more people didn't provide that at all, how would anyone know? I didn't know how to ASK for that, and at the time, with my mind so full of other things, it really didn't occur to me TO ask for it. Make no mistake... I had more than my share of blessings from our friends and family during Deat's illness, and I'm sure many people were afraid that coming to the hospital or calling me on my cell would be akin to intrusion during a difficult time... but it would have been welcome.

I wish I could offer my friend lunch in the cafeteria, but she's too far away. I can't do that, so I'm trying to send her simple notes with some goofy spin to try to make her smile. I don't know if it's helping, but I know she appreciates my small effort, and that means a lot to me.

I just thought tonight, this would be a good opportunity to tell folks in case you know someone who could sure use the distraction, now, or in the near future. Don't wait for him or her to ask. Just call and offer, or just stop by the hospital... if it's not something your friend would want, he or she can let you know. But if it IS something he or she would want, I'll betcha he or she, like me, just doesn't know how to ask.

A Free E

2011-07-04T22:49:00.004-04:00

Still reading old posts from Capricorn Cringe... (The Friggin' Cat House in my blog list) still ignoring the laundry pile. I keep thinking if I ignore it, it will suddenly go away...

Anyway, came across one where she had accidentally added an E on her cousin's name, so I thought I'd tell you my E story...

My first name was (is) Anne, with an "e". (ex: Anne Kelly Maiden) My best friend throughout childhood and beyond is Ann, with no "e". So, at some point, while I was in elementary school, I asked Daddy why my Anne had an "e" but Ann's name didn't have one.

"You want the truth?"

"Well, yes sir."

"When you were born, that nurse asked me, 'Lafayette, does this Ann(e) have an "e" on it or not? I said, 'Does it cost anything to put an "e" on there?' She said, 'no' so I said 'Well give 'er all she can have then!'"

There was an "e" on my Anne because it didn't cost extra...

When I got married, I dropped "Anne", my first name, the name I didn't use. Having a first name that I didn't use just made my mail confusing anyway. I wanted to keep my maiden name, but I'm not into hyphens, so I made my maiden name my middle name. (Kelly Maiden Married)

A few years after we moved to L-town, Daddy had to send me something in the mail. I was surprised to see an envelope addressed in his handwriting, instead of my mother's. It was made out to Mrs. Kelley Maiden Married... with an arrow pointing to the underlined "e".

Above the arrow, was a note: FREE "E"!

Daddy just wanted to make sure, even after my marriage and name change, I still got the full benefit of my free "e". Daddy always looks out for me.

Bringing the MC into 2010(1) and Texting with Kelly

2011-07-02T01:35:00.004-04:00

I've tried to present the Master Counselor in the best light because 1. I'm grateful for my job and 2. I genuinely like the MC.

I've told you he's OCD. I've told you he's intimidating at times... so what I've hinted at, but I haven't really come out and said is, 1. He's WAY set in his ways, 2. He can be a major grouch if things don't go the way he wants them to or the way he thinks they should, PARTICULARLY technology-related tasks. Luckily, (and in his defense) he CAN laugh at himself and he's also very self-aware and would freely admit to these flaws. (Um, I think. Yeah, he would, 'cause he really could give a rat's hind-end what you think of him.)

Anyway, the forms overhaul... I set up headers (logos, if you will) for both the satellite office and the main practice. I also set up footers for both. The MC was smart enough to save all his forms in rich text format so they'd open anywhere... and I could easily edit them from my machine. Unfortunately, he was also running his documents out of Word '03... and Word '03 didn't feature the font I used to set up the main office logo... not to mention I didn't have a clue as to how to add the headers and footers to his header/footer template library so he wouldn't have to copy/paste everything from other documents. So I casually mentioned on Wednesday that he really should upgrade, that it would be so much better... Note CASUALLY.

This morning I came in early, and the MC had a client in his office so I had to hang out in the front office for a bit. Lee* comes in on Friday mornings to clean, so I chatted with her while I waited. She casually mentioned that he had been frustrated when he came in this morning because he bought and loaded Word 2010 and couldn't get any of his non-.rtf files to open. I started (jokingly) packing up my things.

Lee: where are you going?
Me: I'm getting out of here before he gets out of that session!
Lee: Wha?
Me: It was MY IDEA for him to upgrade!
Lee: Oh man!
Me: He will kill me. It won't be pretty.
Lee: It might not be too bad, he didn't sound too evil when he said your name earlier...

Luckily I had some time to research the problem and print out "fixes" before his session ended. And true to type, he made a beeline for me as soon as his client left. I held up my printed research like a shield. I went to his computer, opened Word 10 and opened a file... no problem.

MC: How'd you do that?
Me: Through Word
MC: I want to open them the way I've always opened them! Can't you make them do THAT?
Me: Grumble...

Unfortunately, I couldn't get the "open with" command to work... not even by browsing for Word 10. I ended up calling technical support, and spent an hour on the phone with "Steve" who had to take over the computer and spend another hour or so fixing it.

MC: (Watching) Why can't you do that? Why did you have to let someone overseas do it? You're the guru.
Me: He's fixing the registry. I appreciate your confidence, but registry issues are above my pay grade. They make the top of my head blow clean off.

That seemed to satisfy him... but he latched on to "above my pay grade" and I suspect anything he thinks I can't do will be "above my pay grade" for the next few weeks. It's okay, I've proved him wrong before... ;-)

It's Friday night. (Well, technically it's early Saturday morning, but I wanted to get this done before... well, I'll add that at the end. I got a text from Kelly earlier:

Kelly: You up?
Me: Yes... on a date.
Kelly: Cool. I'll not interrupt.
Me: Oh, you're not. It's with 2 guys... Ben & Jerry.
Kelly: Smh...

As for why I had to get this done... well I won't be near a computer for a couple days. Why? It's in the chorus...**

*not her real name
** don't forget to turn off the player on the right!

Lesson Planning While Mowing

2011-06-30T14:10:00.014-04:00

It's my day off and the Girls have been at G&V's all week... I'll be heading that way Friday or Saturday, haven't made up my mind which.

I just finished mowing the too-tall grass in the backyard and I believe the girls and I will be having a Zen-grammar lesson when they return home. It will start with me pointing at the trashcan...

Okay my little grasshoppers, what is this? That's right, a trash can...

A THING

And what kind of noun is it? Correct! It's a THING!

(Yes, they'll get that, we own the Schoolhouse Rock DVDs, including the song below)

But! What if I told you this lowly trashcan TRANSCENDS the confines of being only one type of noun? What if I told you it can be BOTH of the other kinds of noun too?

A PERSON

You see, this trashcan is our FRIEND. Mr. Trashcan opens his mouth and eats all the stuff we don't want, and holds it until we can take it out front to his big brothers, who also hold it until the nice garbage men come and take those nasty unwanted things away.

Isn't that nice of Mr. Trashcan? AND!

A PLACE

This trashcan is a place, a place you MUST learn to make a destination in your lives. This trashcan is THE PLACE you immediately go when you are out in the backyard and you've just finished say

a bottle of bubbles,
Or a Popsicle,
Or a bottle of water...

You should then realize your hand now holds an EMPTY

bubble bottle,
Or Popsicle wrapper,
Or water bottle...

Think "TRASHCAN! That's where I need to be!"

And don't OPEN that hand until you get there; do NOT allow any of these items to fall into the grass where Mr. Mower can get hold of them.

This trashcan is the PLACE to go. Do not continue playing. Do not head for the swing, or your little club area, or anywhere else. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Go DIRECTLY to the trashcan.

Got it, Grasshoppers? Tomorrow we'll be learning about the noun-hood of Ms. Kitchen Sink.

This lesson falls under the MMPP (Mean Momma Prevention Plan) along with running and getting my nicotine gum for me whenever I ask.

Now, snatch the pebble from my hand...

All Fired Up

2011-06-28T23:04:00.006-04:00

Annnnd I'm back.

Some brief announcements:

The Master Counselor sends his apologies for not doing anything particularly amusing today to blog about. (Aside from just BEING the MC, which is amusing in and of itself.) This is a balancing act... clients say and do lots of funny things during the day, but I can't blog about them (confidentiality, you know). Luckily, the MC is fair game. Unfortunately, he knows this and has been on best behavior.

Wait, its not particularly funny, but I was the victim of an MC quirk today.... and I managed to go almost all day without any nicotine gum as a (happy?) result. On satellite-office days, I ride with the MC to work: it's in another town, and he drives right past my street to get there. He told me yesterday he'd be here between 9:15 and 9:30 a.m. to pick me up today. Silly me, I forgot that 9:15 is 8:45 in MC-speak. Actually, I didn't forget, I just hoped I'd be wrong. I was dressed and ready when he got here, but I hadn't stocked my purse with gum yet. I made it through the day fairly well on placebo gum, but I'm on my second piece with nicotine juice since I got home, and I've only been here a couple hours. And Fantasia still plays in my head...

In other news... Remember T.L.C., the one who comments in my posts? You know, the ONE who comments on my posts? (ahem) Anyway, she has a new address for her blog, and I've linked to the new one down in the" Blogs I Follow", so you'll be able to see when she's posted something new, and get there more easily. Our styles are nothing alike, but she posts some insightful stuff, you should check it out when she gets it really up and running. Just sayin'.

The rest:

Oh, and have you guys noticed my playlist has commercials in it now? BOO. Still, I worked on that playlist too long... I'm keeping it.

Now I believe there comes a time when everything just falls in line...

Oops, I was singing aloud wasn't I? (#3 on the player.) Actually very apropos for the REST of what I wanted to write about: 3 years of blogging. Yes, I know my archive says 2, but I have a year's worth of blogs from the previous year posted on that first day here.

As most of you know, this blog began during my first year of widowhood. I look back at some of those posts and almost "see" the cloud that hung over me during that period... even in the cheery posts. I "see" that cloud (in some periods, even darker) over the second year... but I don't "see" that cloud anymore. I'm finally used to presenting "me". I can finally do that without feeling a need to qualify my identity with his. I don't feel a lingering depression that just won't go away... dare I believe, maybe it finally did.

I like getting out of bed in the morning. I look forward to discovering what each day holds again. I look forward to life "as is" instead of "what life was supposed to be." And that's the difference between THIS post and all the "I think I'm better" posts along the way.

However, I will say... when I read over those old posts, especially in the "What Happened" posts before Deat's death, I see a woman who looked to the Lord more for guidance than the woman I see in the mirror does now. And I'm not pleased with that. Luckily, God knows I'm ADD. He keeps revealing to me how those "Oooh, shiny!" moments, the ones that contradict having the courage of my convictions, that send me off-course, could become really painful if I keep following them. He keeps adding people to my life who remind me I need to stay close to Him. New seeds have been planted.

I also find myself being more careful, more selective, about what I say now. I suppose then, it was "more okay" to be vulnerable: I wasn't good at being anything BUT vulnerable. I'm going to try to go back to sharing what's actually in my heart... but for those of you who enjoy it, don't worry, I'll be laughing at the crazy things I observe, too. I was writing to a new blog friend about the start of JustKellyHere the other day, and I think what I said there sums it all up nicely:

I was much more honest and open in my blog in the first year or two... mostly because dealing with my grief was kind of THE POINT of the blog. Back then, hardly anyone knew it existed... Writing those posts was very healing for me. I really wasn't sure who "Just Kelly" was... It's interesting to me to go back and read those posts: they're me, but not me. I guess that means I figured it out. And that's kind of the point, too. .

My New Slogan

2011-06-27T20:27:00.001-04:00

Stop. Go. Justkellyhere.

Generated by the Advertising Slogan Generator. Get more JustKellyHere slogans.

Stole this from Capricorn Cringe from a post way back in her blog. I'm reading 3 year old posts from her blog so I can ignore the laundry pile RIGHT BESIDE ME waiting to be folded...

Ugh, I just reminded myself... guess I have to go now... (pout)

In other news... (See how I did that? ADD is so handy sometimes.) Tomorrow is the LONG day of the work week so I'll be carefully observing the MC for something blog-worthy. Stay tuned!

Happy 3rd Birthday Blog!

2011-06-25T00:06:00.000-04:00

Sorry I missed it by 6 minutes!

Blog Time I Didn't Want...Except...

2011-06-22T14:41:00.006-04:00

I didn't plan to blog today. I had lots of plans for getting other things in my life accomplished... Except...

This week has been crazy hectic. To explain:

Prior to my tenure with him, and in all his brilliance, the Master Counselor devised a counseling program that is unique to Kentucky. I can't say more than that or risk revealing his identity. (If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya, mostly, because he'd kill me.) I am very impressed with said program... but I wasn't impressed with the forms for documentation. Well, I take that back... considering the difference between my technological experience and his, I was VERY impressed with the forms he created... they just needed a little tweaking for consistency's sake and to make them easier to edit later.

So, I set about creating a "style" for his documentation and redesigning the forms a bit... it was just going to be something to piddle with when I had free-time between other assignments. I figured it would also benefit me in that I'd learn more about his program and real-world counseling documentation in the process.

Let me say something right here to further explain why this project is so important to me: The MC pays me even though he didn't have to. I need the hours and experience I get in his office in order to graduate. He even pays me for the hours I spend observing while he counsels clients. To say I feel an extreme debt of gratitude to the MC is an understatement; this project represented my chance to bring something of real value to him.

The MC liked my initial work, but other chores needed to take precedence... until last Wednesday. On Wednesday morning he announced that a government agency (who shall also remain nameless) would be coming in one-week hence to inspect the program at the satellite office... and he wanted all his documentation forms and program introductions in the new style... (No pressure Kel, just do your thing! Gulp..)

So we've spent hours and hours editing, revising and revamping. I couldn't wait to see what the inspector would think of them... Except...

When I asked the MC Monday if I could observe the inspection he said he thought the fewer people present at the inspection, the better; and his partners in the program would be there as well. No big, except I really wanted to go. We spent yesterday at his satellite office and had a really good day, so (hoping in his good mood, he would change his mind) I asked again, and got the same answer. (Oh well, rats.) This morning I went in to his main office early to help him put the finishing touches on his files and et cetera before the meeting.

The MC looked at me and said, "I've been thinking, it must be really important to you to be present for that inspection to have asked me twice. If you can be quiet and defer ANY question they have to me, you can go." ... Except...

I looked down at the VERY casual t-shirt and blue jeans I was wearing and thanked him but told him no, I was really under-dresssed. (RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS!!!!) He left for his meeting at his satellite office at 11:00 this morning, and took all the files with him so I have the afternoon off. He's probably in the meeting right now. Those inspector folks will have no idea of all the hard work we put into those forms in the last week, and probably won't care how about how beautifully formatted they are... but the suspense is killing me just the same.

Meanwhile, back in school... I have a major take-home exam due for my second Assessment/Diagnosis class tomorrow afternoon. On Saturday, Dr. O. handed out the info-packets that included all the information we'd need to put together the Mock Diagnostic Report that would be our Final Exam. He was one info-packet short. Since I knew some of the others in my cohort wanted to start on their's right after class, I said no problem, I'm planning to head to my parents' house right after class and won't get started on it this weekend anyway, just email it to me and I'll print it out. I only half-jokingly said "email it NOW" to make sure I'd have it. Dr. O, said he couldn't at the moment, but assured me he'd email it as soon as he got home... Since The MC turned me down on Monday and Tuesday, I planned to do it this afternoon... Except...

It's not there in my in-box. If I don't get an extension on this assignment I will kill him.

My other possible project I had planned for this afternoon was to get the laundry caught up again... Except...

Also on Saturday, I was ALMOST caught up on all the laundry, the washing part anyway. I only had one more load washing to go into the dryer; and one last load to go into the washer, so I asked my babysitter to put the load in the dryer and get the other load started in washer while I was in class... I'd put the last load in the dryer, catch up all the folding and putting away in a couple hours: the girls and I would head to P-town after that.

When I got home from class, the washer was full of water and not doing a thing. I ran upstairs and checked the breaker box: no problems. I checked the breaker on the power strip where the extension cord from the washer was plugged in, it was blown... yaay? No. Trying to turn on the washer blew it again. Sigh. Unplug the breaker, plug the extension cord directly into the wall... nothing. Check the breaker box again, no problems. Try the power strip again... nothing... but the light on the dehumidifier that was also plugged into the power strip was still on.

Call Daddy, see if he knows why I'd get this series of electrical indications. Daddy says he thinks my problem is not with the electricity but the washer itself. He also says, "I'll be there in a couple hours" (Daddy is 73 years old. He taught me tons and tons about home repair when I was growing up. He didn't NEED to drive 100 miles to look at my washer. I suspect he knew he didn't need to, but I also suspect it made him feel good to show me he loved me enough to drive 100 miles to look at my washer.)

Meanwhile, I keep checking everything out. I could hear the motor "start" to work, then stop. The tub would turn, but begrudgingly. Was there something down in between blocking it? I disassemble the whole cabinet so I can check, can't find anything, so I use my wet-dry vac to drain the water, then put everything back together. (Mostly so Daddy can order me to take it apart again when he arrives.) Daddy gets here, we try this, we try that, we suspect the motor is toast but we don't know so I'll have to call a repairman...

I had work and class Monday, and a 12 hour workday yesterday... so said repairman couldn't come until today... and OF COURSE he'd have to order the motor: it will be in tomorrow. He also mentioned that washing machine motors often blow because the washers were plugged into extension cords and didn't get enough electricity to allow them to work properly. (Just like the way MINE is set up) Which I would remedy... Except...

There is no plug anywhere within reach of the only place in my house that I could possibly PUT the washing machine... I wish Daddy had taught me how to be an electrician...

Oh well, I could still spend the afternoon folding some of that huge pile of clean clothes that still needs folding... Except...

I had to type this out for you. ;)

Stopping By for a Brief Catch-up

2011-06-19T23:27:00.008-04:00

Hellooooo? Anybody here?

(Wiping off a chair) Here, sit down, sit down, I'll put some coffee on. Things get really dusty around here when I don't come in often enough...

I'm sorry I haven't been here to write, it's not because I didn't want to. For the 4 people who check in regularly, I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I was actually DOING STUFF. (Yaay! There was a time in the history of this blog when I didn't want to leave the house!) I composed entry after entry... in my head.

Out and About

I had one about my last visit with Richie and Wendy (shooting pool of course!) but things were busy so I could only memorialize it in pictures (Mostly on Facebook). Richie beat me to death, Wendy is a doll baby, love them both to pieces... nothing big and new, and we didn't discuss anything amazing or earth-shattering. Then again, with great friends you don't have to, it's enough just be together.

Still not digging how I look in these "we took a shot of ourselves" pictures,
but I'll get used to it. It's the shot of the other two I really wanted anyway

Miscellaneous

I considered one about how much I'm enjoying visiting while the girls are at theater camp, how much I love my Theatre Babies, but you already know that... I am planning some mischief with my Gusto Girlfriends (the theatre Moms) but since many of them read this blog, I'll have be careful what I report... stay tuned!

I thought about writing one about Dr. P and what a great professor he is... epitome of what a counselor should be and all that... but for the girls in my cohort and me, giving Dr. P a hard time is one of the best parts of Internship Group Supervision class... so I really can't write a whole blog entry being NICE to him...

Then there was the one about... Never mind.

The MC

The one I most wanted to write is about my new internship for this semester, more specifically, to introduce you to my boss. The Master Counselor is a Vietnam Vet, and a graduate of the same master's program I'm in. Dr. P commented that my supervisor was very good at what he does; so I entered this internship with a teensy level of hero worship going before I even met him. Add to my preconceived visions of him a deep, all-business voice, a blunt no-nonsense approach to nearly everything, plus a wee bit of (admitted on his part) impatience, and I was almost intimidated into submission....

Best description I can give it: He likes some things a certain way, I'm particular about certain other things... we get together and play musical OCD. I would have written an entire blog about him a couple weeks ago, but privacy is also in his list of hang-ups, so I had to ask permission first, knowing his answer would be a big, fat NO. It took me a week to get up the nerve to ask him.

"I promise not to use your name!'

"Oh, well I guess that's okay then"

I had no intention of using his name in the first place. To me, referring to him as "The Master Counselor" is infinitely more amusing. I, of course, am "The Counselor's Apprentice."

(No kidding, every now and then when we're having a round and round discussion, I hear the music that starts at around 2:15 start playing in my head. If I'm not careful, I can see the MC resorting to the action at 8:52.)

However, I think we're getting the hang of each other. I'm there to learn, he's willing to teach. He has a ton of experience... seems to enjoy passing his learning along, and he's stinkin' brilliant. (Don't tell him I said that.) Sometimes I learn as much at lunch as I learn in an entire weekend of classes. I bring some technology experience to the table that's come in handy lately, and he makes an effort to let me know it's appreciated... which means a great deal to me. PLUS... he counsels from a holistic perspective, including the spiritual. I think God stuck me right where I needed to be.

Wish I could write more, but there's a pile of laundry the size of a VW Bug on my bed waiting to be folded. (Well, I won't be folding it tonight, but I wanted you to know it got put off so I could get this much typed out.)

I'll try to get back here soon, promise. Lock up on the way out...

Go forth and Zumba your little brains out, Pollyanna!

2011-06-05T09:47:00.012-04:00

Survival tool

I'm still smoke free. I made it to one month on the second of June, and forgot to celebrate, so I'm doing that now, with a fresh piece of nicotine gum... aaaaahhh.

Observations and Addictive-Thinking Randomness

The cigarette is still a much more efficient nicotine delivery system than the gum... you can "dose" yourself much more effectively to your craving. That said, I don't want a cigarette.
I don't want one because I'm finally out of the "habit" of smoking. I'm still addicted to nicotine, but I'm out of the habit. I have stepped down from 4mg gum to 2mg gum. Smoke-free is an accomplishment, but I have no illusions that my addiction is gone.
The nicotine gum you buy now isn't like the old kind (rubbery and gross). I'm not a huge gum fan, but since it delivers my nicotine, I'm liking it more.
It's interesting that I'm starting this at the same time I'm starting my addictions counseling internship. For example: One of the things you learn when studying addictions is that for the addict, the physical acts surrounding the addiction start to stimulate the same centers of the brain as the drug itself does: the act of procuring the drug, the acts preparing to use the drug. i.e.making the buys; laying out the paraphernalia; for a cocaine addict, making the lines; for an IV user, tying off their arm.

Anyway, the day I bought Kermit, I forgot to bring any of my gum with me. After 3-4 hours at the dealership I started getting antsy, the feeling I'd have when I'd normally ask around if anyone had a cigarette... so I asked around if anyone had any nicotine gum. One guy said no, but he had some plain gum... (gum that happened to be the same size, shape, and flavor as my nicotine gum.) As soon as I started chewing it I felt better, even with no nicotine. Weird, huh?
I still have some of that sardonic bitterness I had when I first quit. However, all those things reformed smokers annoyingly use to try to convince you to quit, telling you about how great it is to be a non-smoker? Um, well, they are starting to be "real" to me.

For example, I can REALLY smell the lilacs in my backyard now. Food does taste better. I can really smell smoke on other people now and I'm relieved that my clothes don't smell like that anymore. I really have more energy to get things done around here (either that, or I just need something to do with my hands since I don't have a cigarette in them, but that works, too).

Gee, I hope I don't start sounding that annoying. I probably will, (Okay, I just did. Anyway...) but I'm already pretty annoying in other ways, adding one more way will be okay if it keeps me smoke-free.
The "coughing up gross stuff" you get warned about? It's not as bad as I've been told, at least not so far. It doesn't happen that often and it does remind me why I don't want to smoke anymore.
Fighting the weight gain is going to suck. I think I've gained 7 pounds!

Ah well, I've come farther with not smoking than I ever imagined I would, let's see how I can do with not eating. Hey, I could start a good exercise regimen now. At least I won't lose my breath so easily.

(Okay, that last note of positive-thinking was annoying, even to me.)

I am Not the Devil

2011-05-31T12:34:00.120-04:00

But I did go down to Georgia.

Kelly talked me into it. (You know, Kelly, the one in the Brave's hat.) Kelly is convinced that I suffer from self-imposed social impairment. (No, I have classes most weekends and 2 little girls. Anyway...)

His mission, from all the way in Atlanta, is to get me out of the house. He once talked me into calling up a guy here in L-town that I only know in passing to ask him to go to a play after my "date" cancelled on me. (That was a bust, I was embarrassed, but Kelly called it progress.)

He started on me as soon as he found out the girls were going to Myrtle Beach with G & V this week. I told him "no" a dozen times...

Me: Kelly, it's a five hour drive!

Other Kelly: I know you've spent 5 hours or more driving in one day when we worked for NFIB!

If I did come, I could only stay one day.

Yeah, but when are you going to have another chance? One day is better than no day.

It's impractical.

If you keep waiting for practical you'll never go anywhere!

What will your girlfriend think?

She won't care!

I can't afford it.

Don't worry about that, I got it.

I need a pedicure.

We'll do that first thing!

We?

Yeah, I'll get one too, it'll be fun.

On that last one, I figured he REALLY wanted me to visit... but I was still saying no.

Then Friday night/Saturday morning his girlfriend broke up with him. I figured I might as well go. If I didn't, I'd still be spending most of Sunday and Monday on the phone listening to him rehashing the whole relationship and break-up. I wouldn't get anything practical done around here, anyway.

Listening when he needs me to, what I do. That's my contribution to the friendship. Since this blog will tell you what a great friend he is, I figured I'd take this opportunity to throw that in to defend myself. I really do try to pull my weight, friendship-wise. I might even be worth all the nice stuff he did for me.

I set out Sunday morning with idea that this trip would be great to blog about. I was going to make one of those really cute blog-travel-stories I've seen in other people's blogs, complete with pictures. The following is my attempt at that... Sort of.

Kermit and the Trip Down

Since this would be Kermit's first long trip, I figured it would be a good time to check out how many miles per gallon he'd really get. I kept going after I probably should have already pulled over for gas. I was trying to get the "trip" odometer to an even 300 miles.

I kept thinking, "Boy that gauge says the gas is really low, I wonder why the light hasn't come on..."

If you'll notice, the little gas thingy over on the gas gauge is not lit. Turns
out, it does not light. Now, if you'll look to the left, you'll see that
the gas thingy in the RPM gauge WAS lit... for who knows how long?

Kermit got right at 20 mpg on this trip... less than I had hoped, but better than Daisy would have, so I'm not complaining. Daisy would have keeled over right outside LaFayette. I suppose it would have made getting a picture of the sign easier. The picture below is one of about 5 attempts.

I wanted to get a picture of the LaFayette sign for Daddy,
mostly cause they messed up and didn't spell his name right.

Right about here (see below) is where I started realizing how little I get out these days. In college I used to go visit Chelle in Columbus, on roads arguably at least as confusing as Atlanta, and I didn't worry. Why is it that, as we age, we lose that sense of invincibility? I accidentally drove past my exit and nearly had a nervous breakdown...

This is I-75 coming into Atlanta. No, I did not properly frame
the picture. I was too tense from driving in 6 lanes of traffic.

I arrived in Atlanta between 1 and 2 pm. Kelly had me meet him at Cumberland Mall. I was nervous and intimidated, by the whole thing, though I'm not sure why. I hadn't seen him face to face in a while, but this is Kelly: I talk to him almost every day. So yeah, maybe he's right, I really need to get out more.

New Food

He took me to PF Chang's for lunch, since I had never been there. It seemed pretty fancy for lunch to me, but as I was sitting there (feeling a bit like a bumpkin) I realized that several years ago I wouldn't have been even a little uncomfortable. We told our waitress how I was visiting from out of town, blah blah blah. He ordered seared Ahi tuna (read: almost-but-not-quite raw) so I could try it. (Delicious.) The waitress even sensed how out-of-place I felt.

She commented, "That's really sweet."

"What is?"

"He's taking care of you."

Which is the kind of friend Kelly is.

And so the stage was set for Kelly's (Braves-hat Kelly's) plans for my visit: an exercise in taking this Kelly (that would be me) out of her comfort zone but keeping just enough of the familiar that she'll go along with it. From there we went to the mall nail salon, and true to his word, Kelly got a pedicure, too.

In counseling, we'd say he was "modeling a behavior" for me: Willingness to Try New Things.

Having my feet massaged did help me relax, and watching his (pedicurist?) made me laugh. Every time Kelly said something about how good his chair felt, the little Asian lady who was working on his feet looked at me and made a funny face. She cracked me up.

From there, Kelly led me through Atlanta to drop my things off at his place (actually in Decatur, he just moved there last week), have a beer and head right back out.

I was actually trying to get a shot of the really cool building
but before I could zoom in the light turned green. That's
Kelly's truck turning ahead of me.

New Beverages

We went to Twain's Billiards and Tap. (Could a pub's name possibly sound more like a place I'd love? I think not.) In keeping with the outside-but-inside-my-comfort-zone theme, my new thing to try was crafted ales, but surrounded by the familiarity of pool tables.

This was brilliance on Kelly's part. Let me get my stick in my hand, shoot a couple games, get "into stroke" and I'm comfortable no matter where I am. He picked Mad Happy Pale Ale for me and after I'd had a couple I was completely relaxed and my game was ON. I ran over Kelly like a Mack Truck. (No shame to Kelly there, he doesn't play, and I don't think he much cared. He's awesome like that).

He finally asked the guy practicing on the table next to us if he wanted to play me. An older fella practicing all alone, Kelly and I figured he'd beat me, but I ran over him too. Maybe he was letting me win... those beers had a little bit higher alcohol content and I had three or four so I wouldn't have noticed... but Wendy, if you're reading, tell Richie I shot like God on the pool table. He'll know. Even if I had lost, as "in stroke" as my game felt, it would still have been a win. When we left any nervousness I had felt was gone.

New Goofiness

From there we went back to Kelly's to get blankets and went right back out. First we stopped for snacks, then headed here:

This is the one major park where my family camped several different times as I was growing up, and in keeping with the theme, something familiar, even if I hadn't been there in 25 years. Stone Mountain is the largest piece of granite in the world, and features a huge carving on the side of figures from the confederacy side of the Civil War. At night, they project a huge laser show onto and over the carving. (I'm sure there are samples of it on youtube.) Lots more interesting information about Stone Mountain, especially the history, here.

To give you some perspective, I've seen a photo of a man
sitting in Robert E. Lee's ear.

People bring blankets and chairs and wait on a grassy hill in front of the mountain for the show to start. There is constantly music blaring from the speakers up until, during, and even for a bit after, the light show.

Down at the bottom of the hill there are always lots of kids
playing and dancing. The girls in the picture are doing
some kind of dance to "All the Single Ladies."

AGAIN, Kelly made me step out of my comfort zone. Somewhere, in some camera belonging to someone I don't know, theres a picture of the two Kellys doing "The Chicken Dance." If I hadn't gotten up with him he would have been standing there beside me, Chicken-dancing all alone, and somehow that would have been worse.

I still haven't mastered the art of taking a picture of myself
with someone else in the picture. If you look between us you
can get something of an idea of the number of people spread
out all over this hill. Plus I had to post this picture because
Kelly looks almost maniacal in it. Serves him right for making
me do the Chicken Dance.

If going to the laser show had been the only thing we did, the whole trip would still have been worth the drive. The finale featured a huge fireworks display and I knew I was sitting there, mouth agape, fascinated with the whole thing and looking like a big goober... but by this time I didn't care. After the fireworks, we just sat there on the blanket and let everyone else clear out. It's amazing the simple joy of just sitting outside on a warm night with a great friend to chat with.

More New Food And Beverage

BUT wait! There's more! (And at this point I'm thinking "Whaaaa? You know I turn into a pumpkin at midnight, right?")

From there we headed to a little strip of pubs right across from the courthouse in Decatur. For those of you who remember the hey-day of First Street in Richmond, it was extremely similar, right down to the parking strip in the middle between the courthouse and the pubs. The big differences were that the bars were a little nicer, and there was outdoor seating in front of all of them. First we went to The Brick Store pub, where Kelly decided I needed to try a little "hoppier" beer. Since I really enjoyed the one from Twain's I tried another pale ale, Belgian this time. I liked this one, but it didn't make me nearly as "hoppy" as the one at Twain's. I thought the one Kelly picked for himself was Yuck-o, but we don't develop new tastes all in one day, so I'm told. We nursed those beers pretty slowly.

When we finished, I was starving, so we walked over to Zucca Bar and Pizzeria (second from the left in the picture in the link) and ordered a couple slices to-go. Since the order took a long time, we sat listening to reggae, people-watching and making predictions/guesses about the relationships of the people around us. On beyond the front bar there were booths on either side of the room, and some girls got up and started dancing in the middle. I should have known better than to point this out to Kelly... we had to go join them.

I really needed all the stuff Kelly got me to do to get a little more outside myself. I've become stodgy. Way back, getting up and dancing to reggae in a bar with no dance floor would have been MY idea.

We finally arrived back at his place to eat our pizza (Which was the bomb-diggity pizza, just sayin'.) at around 2. Of course, new apartment, the only thing he had to drink with the pizza was beer. I re-read this and we sound like The Kelly & Kelly Lush's Show, so let me say we never actually reached "drunk" at any time during the day. However, the combination of "I'm never up this late and I almost never get a chance to drink beer" got the better of me and I crashed on the futon, probably mid-sentence.

So that was my day, Sunday. It was almost surreal. When the girls aren't home I spend the bulk of the time by myself. I get so caught up in the things I NEED to do, "fun" (unless it was something for the girls) wasn't something I would plan for. "Fun" has been something that happened almost by accident on the way through the responsibilities of life.

Of all the new things Kelly made me try, to me the most fascinating was simply having "fun" be the goal all day long:

"Wow, that was cool, what's the NEXT fun thing we can go do?"

Adventures in Bathing

Kelly had an errand to run Monday morning, so I woke up hearing the water in the shower turning on, off again, on again, off again, on again. Huh?

Did I mention Kelly just moved to this place? Or that the gas hasn't been turned on yet, so there's no hot water? I figured out why I'd been hearing the on again, off again... Get hair wet, turn the water off. Shampoo. Rinse. Turn the water off again. Soap up. Rinse. I was really glad he was out running errands when I got in the shower... being able to howl loudly almost made the cold bearable.

With that title, you were thinking that paragraph was going to be about something else, weren't you? Tsk tsk tsk. Aren't you ashamed of yourself!

Heading Home

He got back, we headed out for coffee and breakfast/lunch, then just hung out at his house for a while longer before I got on the road. Busy running around was great, but so was sitting around talking. I bet I thanked him a million times. I hope he knows how grateful I am, not just for the day, but to have friend like him to orchestrate such a day for me. (If he doesn't he can read it here, huh?) I finally headed out around 2:30.

Tried one more time to get a picture of the really cool
building. I still don't know what it was.

Leaving Atlanta

The trip back was long and uneventful and I spent a lot of it wishing I had taken more pictures.

But I did finally get a picture of a LaFayette sign!

The Welcome Home sign though? Not so much.

Whew!

And the Winner Is...

2011-05-28T22:39:00.002-04:00

Dear old Uncle Fred!

It turns out the new vehicle is a boy.

As it said in Fred's entry, his name is Kermit, because, "It's not easy being green."

First prize is dinner for two at Casa del Kelly the next time Fred and his lovely bride Shawna head to Southeast Kentucky.

Many thanks to Cassie, Wayne, Stephanie, Wendy, Terre, and Tammy for your ideas! It was a tough choice, we liked all of them!

Make My Machine's Moniker (Please?)

2011-05-26T20:12:00.009-04:00

Woo hoo!

I replaced Daisy yesterday. (Well, technically I replaced Daisy and Kitty both.)

The new vehicle is nicer than I imagined she'd be. MUCH nicer. She's not "new" new, but new enough to me that I feel like I won the lottery. Problem is, I didn't win the lottery. I committed to a figure about 30% higher than the one I had mentally set as my top dollar...

BUT, I really couldn't help it. I think God wanted me to have her. That, or the devil stuck her in front of me for temptation and I failed miserably. Either way it's divine intervention and therefore "less" my fault if it was an unwise choice. (I told you I hate making big decisions.) It's a long story, but I ended up having to make 5 trips past a certain dealership yesterday morning instead of my usual 2 trips. And she kept jumping out at me:

"Kellllllll-eeeeeee here I am! Waiting. Just. For. YOU!"

This whole vehicle replacement thing's been a struggle for me. I needed something used, (bring the price down); but dependable, so looking for lower miles (take the price right back up); probably a low-mpg type sedan but maybe a coupe, (bring the price down); but I hate short cars and try as I might can't even force myself to like one model over another (bring the price right back up.)

I didn't want to borrow money (which would mean the price would have to go WAY down... along with the quality of the vehicle in question), but the whole point of shopping was for "dependable." "Dependable" would also mean something that would last me a while. It just broke my heart to think, I might doom myself to several years of driving something I despised. (Which meant, bring the price, and the possibility of borrowed-money option, RIGHT BACK UP.)

So, again, I ended up purchasing something more expensive than I planned. (sigh). But I LOVE her! :)

She's a 2006 Ford Escape. XLT package. V-6. Overdrive. 18/23 mpg. Sage Green. Tilt. Cruise. Leather Seats. Six CD changer. Electric everything. Four doors, no more climbing over seats for the girls.

Isn't she beautiful?

She doesn't have a bad side.
( I would have taken a picture from the back, but she's modest.)

She doesn't have a name. P.D., B.B. and I brainstormed for quite some time for one yesterday but didn't come up with anything we liked.

Deat and I often used alliteration with the make- or model-name, but not always.
Examples:

Sally - Deat's Mustang "Mustang Sally"
Rachel - my Ram 50
Fritz - (the only boy) Deat's Chryler Sebring. Deat got the name from some comment I made about his using German stealth to get me to agree to the purchase.
GertieMac - my GMC Sonoma. Don't look at me, Deat named her.
Daisy - my Dodge Dakota
Kitty - the Buick Riviera. There's the link to the post explaining her name. To save you time, she had a Supercharger, and her name came from the adrenaline rush I'd get when I'd step down on the accelerator and her motor awakened from her typical almost inaudible purr to her quietly powerful roar. (Man, I loved that!)

This is where you, dear reader, come in. PLEASE HELP!

The JKH Vehicle Naming Contest

The only rule is the same vehicle-naming rule we followed: you must give a reason for your choice, and it can't be "just because I like the name." The alliteration trick is fine. Hopefully her specs and the examples above will help you. The girls and I will vote to pick our favorite entry, hopefully before G & V whisk them off to the beach Sunday morning.

Please use the comments section of this post for your entry. You may enter more than once (mostly because I'm terrified that we'll have very few entries and have to name her something we don't like).

We don't know what kind of prize to offer, so we'll discuss that later. Remember, we're poor, we spent all our money yesterday.

Living the Dream

2011-05-21T10:40:00.002-04:00

Last night I had a surreal dream about Kirk. I remember thinking as I was dreaming, "I should blog about this."

Then the dream moved into sitting in front of my keyboard blogging about the dream. And I remember thinking, "I should blog about dreaming about blogging about dreaming."

So, I did.

That's that.

Forbidden Love

2011-05-18T23:02:00.011-04:00

Have I mentioned I hate big decisions? I do. What a REALLY hate are the conversations six months later.

"I wish I had zigged. If I only had zigged instead of zagged..."

(Oh, you noticed that I started this post with an "I hate.."? Why yes, I am still smoke-free, why do you ask?)

We are now entering the standard "Big Long Story" portion of the post: the part that exists to befuddle you before we tie the opening statement and the title all together at the end. You may proceed.

Daisy the Dakota is dying, a slow and painful death. A couple of months ago, I noticed anytime Daisy idled (for instance, at a stoplight) her oil pressure gauge dropped to nothing. I've had her looked at twice for that, with various parts changed to no avail. Now, I just rev Daisy to keep her oil pressure up instead of allowing her to idle. The people ahead of me in the Mickey D's drive-thru LOVE when I do that!

Last week (on the one day it didn't rain) I turned on her air conditioning for the first time this year. I watched her temperature gauge immediately rush to the danger zone. Fortunately, we weren't far from home and when I turned her heater on it dropped again; the girls and I only had to play mobile sauna for about a mile.

And, Monday, she reminded me that wet weather just DOES NOT suit her; she died in the parking lot at P.D.'s school. She made all those teasing noises that say "If you'll just keep trying to start me, I might just go..." as behooves her sadistic tendencies. Of course, this was before I got B.B. dropped off, and only 45 minutes before my scheduled follow-up meeting in C-town for a THE internship... the one that is far more amazing than any I imagined I would be lucky enough to land... the one where the supervisor-to-be (The MC) specified in our previous meeting that I'd need reliable transportation.

Of course, I did what any resourceful single mom with all the emotional control of a counselor-to-be would do in this situation: I proceeded straight to my much-deserved nervous breakdown; then called Sabrina crying hysterically. Sabrina was able to decipher enough of my gibberish to come and get us, take me to drop off B.B., and calm me down enough to notify The MC that I'd be about 20 minutes late. She even thought to bring a book to read so she wouldn't be bored during my meeting.

God loves me. He gave me Sabrina.

As we drove to C-town, we discussed my need to buy something reliable. I told Sabrina I began looking the Friday before, after my first meeting with Mr. F (edit: now known as The MC). I whined about having such a hard time finding something I could afford without mega-miles on the odometer. She asked me what I had priced, then stopped me.

"Kelly, those are all trucks."

"Uh, yeah."

"Why haven't you looked at any cars?"

Because I drive a truck. I've driven a standard-shift truck, of one make or another, nearly my whole adult life. I belong in a truck. Really, would I look right in a sedan? A coupe? Pul-eeze. My truck is an extension of who I am.

Okay, I learned to like Kitty, I learned to trust her. She was responsive and aimed to please. But she was an exception. I'd be okay if Kitty was still around, but even if Lying Lady had not lied, and her insurance company had paid, Kitty's repairs would cost more than her book value. I didn't think I'd find another Kitty.

Sabrina reminded me/enlightened me about a few things on our trip that day:

I, apparently, am such a boy!
"You fix plumbing, you took apart your mower, you have your own tool-box. You talk about trucks the way most women talk about jewelry."
Well, okay, yeah, I knew that. I'd much rather do the "honey-do's" than the housework.
"You need to get over the idea that you need a truck. Trucks are expensive to buy, and expensive to own. You need a car if for no other reason than the gas-mileage."
Well, yeah, I knew that, too. Auto companies stopped making fuel-efficient trucks in the 90's.
Driving a person around who seldom rides with other people (and who has A.D.D. to boot) is much like driving around with Sabrina's Labrador in the front seat. Said person is used to watching the road, so when said person doesn't have to, said person's head zips around with a similar zeal.
"Oooh, look at that! And that! And THAT!"
Apparently, taking me places is quite amusing.

I accept Sabrina's assessments, and I at least told her I accepted # 2.

After my meeting, she took me to a car lot she recommended because she knew the owner was a stand-up guy. She waited in her car while I looked.

I even gave that older model red Grand Am serious consideration. I dickered with the salesman for a better deal (and, according to Sabrina, I am such a boy at negotiation too.) But then, the salesman had to mention it...

The 2003 F-150 extended cab that they were repairing at the shop up the street to get it ready to sell. Clean title. 93,000 miles.She booked for $8,000. Had a loan value of $6,800. Might be able to let me have it for $5,400. You can go look at it if you like...

I got back in with Sabrina and tried to look nonchalant.

"I don't know about that car, Sabrina, I think I better let my father-in-law look at it..."

"Oh, stop, you forgot all about that car the second he mentioned that truck."

Sigh.

After lunch Sabrina took me back to Daisy who by this time was feeling much drier and more cooperative. I took Daisy straight my mechanic and insisted he check her distributor cap. Yep. Thirty minutes and fifty bucks later we were back in business.

I tried not to think about that F-150, even as I was turning the wrong way (toward the car lot's shop. not home) out of my mechanic's.

I went to see her. She's beautiful. V-6 motor. A milky silver color. Supercab. Sport package. Two rear suicide doors that preserve her sleek lines. (I'm not into Crew Cabs.) Black bed cover. Lots of leg room up front, acceptable leg room in the back. Good stereo. Automatic transmission, but I can overlook that. Automatic windows. Keychain door locks. (I never had THOSE before!) I looked it up, she'd likely get 14 mpg in the city and 20 mpg on the highway...

I *could* make my route back and forth to my internship highway miles as much as possible...

She looks a lot like this one, but with a bed cover instead of that silly rack. I'd look good tooling around in that, no?

Yesterday I took her paperwork to run it by Perry, one of Deat's closest friends here in L-town. He said No.

Last night I called Pat the Wonder Brother and told him about her. He said No.

Tomorrow, I'll take G. and V. to see her so they can say no.

Mostly because I know I should, but I don't want to say no.

I've always secretly wanted an F-150, but it just does not appear to be in the cards for me. I'm going to have to say no.

I hate making big decisions because I have to be PRACTICAL.

But wouldn't "Felicity" be a nice name for her?

Lullabies and Ghosts

2011-05-10T23:21:00.007-04:00

Tonight the little Bear let me rock her. It been a long time since she's wanted that. She EVEN let me hum and sing. I don't know what got into her, but she's completely cuddly and irresistible when these moods hit... I'm powerless to turn her down.

A little background: when Poods was a baby, Deat and I were woefully lacking in our knowledge of lullabies. We just didn't know any. So, we sang whatever came to mind.

If you can slow it down enough, just about anything becomes a lullaby. This is why (along with "Two Little Fishes and Five Loaves of Bread") my girls can adeptly sing "Jack 'O Diamonds" for anyone who will listen:

If the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck, I'd dive to the bottom and never come up... yee haw...

Tonight I sang "Cockles and Mussels" (also known as "Molly Malone", lyrics are below the video) It must have been the first time she really paid attention to the words. She was struck with a sudden bout of overwhelming empathy.

When I got to the final verse, and finished, her eyes became very big, she teared up a little, and said, "Did the Momma die?"

(I never imagined Molly Malone as a "Momma," but okay...)

"Yes, honey, I suppose she did."

(Eyes more concerned, even larger) "Did they have a Daddy?"

Suspecting her worry was about being left "alone", I replied, "Yes honey, and he took very good care of them."

This seemed to soothe her, and she settled right back down.

Moments like those used to tear me to shreds, and I would become a completely unhinged weepy mess... until she became older and I recognized that the little Bear was learning to yank my chain with it. Her favorite ploy became to cry loudly, "DADDY!" every time she was in trouble.

Yes, initially, she was missing him. But, like most little ones, B.B. paid attention to others' reactions to her behaviors, and quickly learned to use those reactions to manipulate situations to her advantage. She figured out that crying for Daddy instantly got her out of whatever scrape she was in.

Once I learned to keep my emotions in check at such statements, she persisted for awhile, but she eventually quit using them to get her way, or to distract me from a misbehavior, or to accomplish whatever ulterior motive du jour she had going. The days of using "Daddy's name in vain" are long past.

He's been gone over half her life. I don't think she "remembers" him in any concrete way, but I think she feels a loss of him just the same. After the song, she launched into an explanation of how her Daddy could look into the windows and see her, but she couldn't see him. I never offered this concept to her, but I wasn't surprised by it. B.B. has explained many concepts of death to me that she's gleaned from various sources over the years, some from obviously well-meaning folk, but I'd just as soon some of them had left the explaining to me.

For example: early on, someone told little 2 year-old B.B. that her Daddy had gone to live at "Jesus's House." That's a really nice sentiment, but to a 2 year-old, it meant that her Daddy had abandoned her to go live with this Jesus guy, this guy who up until then, had seemed like a pretty good dude. For some time there, B.B. was REALLY ticked off about this "Jesus House" place. Why was it so great that Daddy would stay there and wouldn't come home?

As she got older, it almost became comical. B.B. would say, "Mommy go work. Sissy go big school. Daddy at....JE-SUS HOUSE!" yelling the hated place with all the ticked off derision a 2 year-old can muster. I think she's forgotten that now... Jesus seems like a pretty good guy to her again. Still, if I need a good private joke snicker out of her sister, saying "JESUS HOUSE!" in my best ticked off voice always elicits a chuckle. That may not make sense to some. I suppose to us it's like a badge of honor: P.D. and I survived, and helped B.B. survive together.

I'm not sure that our loved ones "watch over us" after they're gone. I don't think the Bible says they pay attention to what's going on here on earth. (if I'm wrong, somebody tell me.) I know there have been times when I've really hoped Deat wasn't watching me, but there have also been times when I've really hoped he was. I'm not sure where B.B. got the "Daddy in the window" theory, but for now, this idea seems to comfort her, so I think I'll let her keep it for awhile.

We're doing okay. I think we've adjusted well over the past 3 years to our "just the three of us" lives. Sometimes, though, his presence is still felt. Sometimes, his absence is too.

She concluded her explanation with, "I miss Daddy."

"Me too, baby, me too."

Deat's Favorite Lullaby:

(don't forget to turn the player on the right off).

Best Thing About Mother's Day? The People Who Call Me Their Mother.

2011-05-08T14:13:00.005-04:00

This is what I woke to this morning.

Not the drawing, but the scene the drawing depicts. More or less. Leaning closer to the more and farther away from the less..

So there was milk and juice in place of coffee. And no vase. And a bagel in place of the breakfast depicted. (With a tub of cream cheese and a line of jelly jars a mile long!) The scenes, the real and the one depicted, could not be more beautiful to me.

My girls are the greatest. I will brag on B.B another day, but today, P.D., once again, has blown me away. She drew this in school.

I love the hair depicted on the shoulders in the drawing, falling exactly where hers does. I love the the framed note and the place card. I love that she put "PJ's" on her pjs in the drawing, but with the "P" blocked by the vase. I love the coffee cup... with the "Mama" on it just like my favorite coffee cup.

I love that at age nine she can create better, more visually appealing art than I can at forty (or could in a lifetime, for that matter.). I love that she has a talent that I can't begin to take any credit for.

She also trotted out her purchases from earlier in the week. A really pretty wire basket filled with mini-Reese's cups (one of my favorite kinds of candy), a can of cashews (she explained that she couldn't find macadamias) and small can of Danish cookies (because they just "looked like" something I'd like).

Gee, I hope I can live up to this person who loves me this much. It's real inspiration to keep trying.

Addition: B.B. just came up to me shaking out her piggy bank and gave me 16 cents, everything that was in it.

I looked at her, "You're PAYING me?"

"No, I'm just giving you money because it's Mother's Day..."

I hope I'm worth B.B.'s last cent, too.

Random bin Laden and Pirates... Just staying with a theme here...

2011-05-06T11:28:00.004-04:00

This article:
Al Qaeda Confirms bin Laden's Death: Group's Ominous Warning for the US

Kinda gave me chills this morning. It included this picture:

Then again, I had this to watch as well (don't forget to turn off the player on the right if you want to watch):

Is it just me, or do bin Laden and Benny the Pirate bear a striking resemblance?

Probably just me.

Special Post For My Theatre Babies

2011-05-05T12:44:00.007-04:00

Good news! It looks like the current Gusto production may not be the last one after all!

After our sad announcement on Saturday, I promised the Theatre Babies I'd put their names in my blog. If you'll look in my page list to the right, you'll see I didn't only give them a post, I gave them their very own page.

Notes to the Theatre Babies Who Read My Blog:

The listings on the Theatre Babies page are in no particular order, except that the babies with my name on their birth certificates came first. These are the two who will be stuck with caring for me in my old age, so I have to butter them up.
I love you guys equally!!! (Though, I might be persuaded to actually name a favorite for $100,000.00 in small, unmarked bills.)
This was really hard to do! If anybody thinks of someone I left out, or has a last initial for anyone I couldn't remember, PLEASE message me with it. If you like, you can put it in the comments here, I'll fix it.
Yes, I know I included the names of kids who don't come to our theatre anymore and for whatever reasons, have chosen to wish the Gusto ill and/or to speak poorly about it.

Bottom line, while each of those kids was with us, I loved him or her and still do. While we might never be all together again, the healing has to start somewhere. I'm not going to stop caring about a kid because of his or her choices, or even pretend I would. I wouldn't do that to any of you.

I'm an adult. (Though I fake it pretty good for you guys.) When you're an adult and grow to love a kid who isn't technically your own, you'll "get it".
If you have questions or complaints about this list, please know you can certainly come to me and I'll listen, and explain as best I can. I only ask that you be polite, as I would be to you. (Besides, I haven't had a cigarette in over 72 hours. Getting rude with Kelly while she's on the prowl for a head to bite off is not the best idea!)
LOVE LOVE LOVE you guys!

bin Laden's Dead and I Want a Cigarette

2011-05-02T22:08:00.006-04:00

I didn't plan to blog today. I mean, I don't want my readers to get the idea I'm consistent or anything.. But it's something of a monumental day, so I figured I had better say something.

Osama bin Laden is dead. I will say, I was surprised by the sheer volume of jubilation I found over on Facebook and throughout the news. I neither lament nor celebrate this event. After all these years I'm a bit numb to it.

Nonetheless, when I remember September 11, and as we all remember, where I was and what my thoughts were... I think I would have rather he come to trial and answered for his crimes. If it had to end this way I think I still agree with Capricorn Cringe over on The Friggin' Cat House, "I’m glad we didn’t drop a bomb on his head. I’m glad he went out shooting, because that means he knew exactly what was happening and who was doing it. And why."

I do wonder, will his death make us safer or incite more violence? We shall see.

Right Turn, Clyde. (Start at 1:20.)

In other news: I started using my Nicorette gum today. B.B. hasn't felt well, I ran out of cigarettes around lunch time and didn't want to drag her out to buy more. The gum does keep the edge off, but offers none of the satisfaction of my habit. But, I've come this far; I might as well keep going.

So, I'm joining the ranks of non-smokers. I don't have to like it. I'm just doing it. I really don't have a desire to be a non-smoker. I'm not proud of myself... I'm really kinda pissy. So much so, I'm actually using the word pissy in my blog and not cringing (much).

Please don't tell me you're proud of me, or send me big congratulatory notes. I hate this. If you make a big deal out of it, it could be just the impetus I need to go buy a pack... just to rebel against your joy. That's the kind of person I expect to be for a while. Consider yourself warned.

I just re-read the last two paragraphs. Maybe this gum doesn't really take as much edge off as I thought.

So again, don't be proud, don't congratulate, don't spread the news. Just forgive me for whatever I say the next time I talk to you and that will be plenty moral support for me.

ARG!

2011-05-01T10:28:00.007-04:00

Authors Note: To the right you'll see a new addition to the blog, JKH Peeps, Places, Things. If you get lost in the post, references are all available there.

Tonight, my heart hurts.

Earlier today the girls had auditions for "The Lady Pirates of the Caribbean" (Another Henry Dowell original). When we arrived (uh, a few minutes late, again) the lobby of The Gusto was packed with the faces of my theatre babies, faces I've grown to love. Today, those faces were sad, some were teary-eyed.

Mr. Dowell was telling us that "Lady Pirates" would be our last production. Keeping a theatre open here in L-town was a challenge from the beginning. Ticket sales and support for our troupe just weren't enough to keep the doors open. Our "family," (and my family) would soon be without our second home. I'd known this day might come, but I didn't expect it to be so soon.

Hit Pause: I'm listening to the Boo Bear and her best friend, Samantha (Sabrina's daughter), saying "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" with no prompting from me. That makes me smile. They just asked God to bless every one of their relatives, adding Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny at the end.

Hit Play: As I looked around, I saw so many kids that I'd had the pleasure of watching grow, mature and thrive at Gusto in the past year: Jonathan, one of our stars who really found his niche inside the Gusto's walls; Amber (Sabrina's oldest) whose lifelong flair for the dramatic had finally found a home; Valarie, who came to the Gusto reeling the recent loss of her grandmother and found a place to heal; Royce, whose heartfelt speech about the difference Gusto had made in his life at our awards party earlier in the year had us all nearly in tears; Zoe, our quiet little flower who bloomed into a beautiful fairy rose in our current production of "The Velveteen Rabbit"; The Velveteen Rabbit herself, P.D., who came there as an incredibly shy, quiet child, now playing the title character; little B.B., who was learning more about the value of teamwork and following directions with each production.

I ached for them, and I ache for me. Here in L-town, my "social involvement" had consisted of church, the events I attended with Deat, and visits with a few close friends. For some time after Deat's death, I had little desire to leave the house save for necessities. P.D.'s involvement meant my involvement; it got me out of the house and played a huge part of getting me back into life. Contributing to the productions, taking an interest in the kids off-stage, making new friends with Henry, Kelsey and too many great parents to name, helped solidify my healing and the healing of my whole family.

However, Mr. Dowell handled his sad announcement with grace. Auditions this afternoon were simple: each child was asked to get up and perform a song, a soliloquy, a speech or poem using his or her best "pirate voice." Our group dissolved into laughter over and over at the kids' efforts... some featuring our own private jokes, some simply hilarious in their renditions.

At least we have another month together. I, for one, plan to pack as much fun and love into our last month in our second home as possible, and to enjoy watching our kids act their hearts out in "Lady Pirates."

If we're gonna go out, at least we'll go out with Gusto, with a hearty "ARG!"

When it rains... it's a dumb saying and it just ain't funny.

2011-04-27T21:39:00.021-04:00

This is not funny. Well, maybe I can make it funny, but at the moment, it ain't. I wasn't going to write about the accident at all, but now I have to.

It all started earlier this month. After dropping B.B. off, I decided to treat myself to McD's for breakfast. I was so looking forward to getting home to enjoy my coffee, my McMuffin and hours of quiet to work on a paper.

It was raining... so I was driving Kitty. Kitty, at 140,000 miles, has surer footing and is much more reliable than Daisy is at 160,000. I was less than 1/4 mile from home, following a van. The van slowed, pulling onto the shoulder to the right as if it were going into the bank parking lot right there, so I slowed but continued forward.

Suddenly, the van veered back out in the road and in that split second when I saw the horrified look on the driver's face I thought to myself, "Gee, lady, don't cha know you need to check your rear-view before attempting an illegal u-turn?!!!"

But that was just a split-second. I tried evasive action to the left, but I was unable to get away from her. My passenger side front wheel made contact with her driver's side front wheel, rendering both vehicles undriveable. As we sat there, parallel to one another, I rolled down Kitty's passenger side window to hear her on the phone (with her husband, I presume) saying "I don't know how this happened, I was only turning left and I had my signal on."

At which point, I, um, lost my cool for a second (Kitty was UN DRIVE ABLE! I only needed to go over the hill in front of us to BE HOME!) and snapped, "Oh lady, don't lie!"

Probably not the wisest move on my part... to save lots of time and LONG STORY... she persisted in said lie. To the point that the police officer, while he believed me, had to report both stories on the accident report and could not define fault as the pictures could not prove who was telling the truth. (Although, IMHO, any fool could see that her story, while possible, made absolutely no sense!)

Ahem! (regaining composure)

My insurance company said since they couldn't PROVE fault, declared equal fault, and since Kitty is so old and only had liability coverage, paid 1/2 of Lying Lady's damages, none to me. Her insurance company, since there was no way to prove fault, decided to pay NOTHING. I learned this over almost 2 weeks later, after Kitty had been sitting in a tow lot for all this time, racking up storage fees.

Luckily, I ran into the owner of the towing company (TJ) a few days later and explained the situation. After hearing the whole thing, he said he thought I should sue to get the truth to come out, and offered to only charge me the towing and not the storage. He took Kitty to a body shop owned by Rick, one of my former customers, and one of the nicest guys around. Rick is going to call me to let me know whether Kitty is worth fixing. (It pains me to say that,)

So, I'm stuck driving Miss Daisy (see Kitty's post) , who has been presenting all sorts of problems of late. I had to drive Daisy back to the farm (around 90 miles one way) for Easter since I hadn't been back home since Christmas. Easter weekend, as most of you know, was unbelievably wet. After running through a major puddle Sunday night, Daisy decided to stall at the next red light in P-town. After balking through 2 more light changes, she finally restarted and got us back to L-town without further incident.

Then tonight happened. The girls had rehearsal and got out at 7:30. It was again, raining cats and dogs. I was just going to run through a drive thru to get the girls something hot, fast. On the way to the restaurant, I encountered a huge puddle, and a car coming in the other direction, so I couldn't avoid it. She started stalling in the middle of the 192 bypass, but I was able to keep her running long enough to get into the drive thru... where she died. Kept trying to start her, but no luck.

Since she's a standard, and there was ample hill and parking lot behind the restaurant, (it's adjacent to a truck stop) I had to put her in neutral, get out and push her backward, (in the rain, with two little girls in the truck, while some nice man in a car watched me) so I could turn the wheel to get her started downhill. Popping the clutch didn't work. (P.D. and B.B. are cheering their little hearts out, begging Daisy to start... but that didn't work either.)

So now it's 8:15, pitch dark, raining to beat the band, and I'm about a mile from home with no way to get there with two tired little girls with me. I reasoned that while if Daisy had a chance to dry out she might start in the morning, I would be stuck with absolutely no way to get the girls to school if I left Daisy where she sat. I needed to call and get her towed home. (TJ's, of course!)

I started to call Sabrina, but Sabrina's helped me over and over and over again with the girls since I've been in school, so I called Filly. My thinking was first things first, get the girls home and dry... besides, there wouldn't be room in the cab of the tow truck for all three of us. Filly said she'd come and get the girls while I called TJ's.

Meanwhile, the two little girls and I are sitting in the bottom of a dark parking lot with our blinkers going. Of all the cars that passed us, only one nice guy pulled up to see if we could use help. I didn't get his name but I will definitely be sending blessing prayers his way tonight.

The truck arrived driven by none other than TJ himself! I told him I had a friend coming to get the girls, and he agreed to wait. Immediately after that short conversation, my phone rang and it was Filly telling me that about 2 feet of water was running over her road and she couldn't get to me... sigh.

The point of all that: Don't tell lies, even to save yourself money or heartache. You have no idea how your lies may affect someone else, or whether their situation might actually be worse than yours would have been if you'd told the truth. If I'd had Kitty (she would already be repaired if the lady told the truth!) none of the first part of tonight would have been an issue. Still, I forgive the lady... maybe she had mean husband and was scared he'd be mad at her for causing the wreck. Anyway....

So, we're stuck, right? NO. TJ said to get in my truck and put it in neutral, and he'd just take us all home that way. By this time I was game for anything. So, here we went, riding along as my truck was winched up onto the slant bed, then riding again as the bed picked us up and moved back into the flat position. TJ said if to just call his cell from mine if he accidentally drove past my house....

Here we go... riding around the 192 bypass at what felt like ten feet off the ground, lights ablazing everywhere. I felt like I should practice my celebrity wave if it hadn't been too dark and rainy for anyone to see me. The girls decided with all the lights going and riding so high up in the air that they were on a carnival ride. Wheee!

Hey, at least they have a new, interesting memory. They'll probably tell their kids about this.

We arrived home to find no electricity. We had to run around hunting for candles so I could see to write the check for the tow. (Which, I'm thinking, he cut me YET ANOTHER break on.) When the electricity came back on a few minutes after TJ left, I noticed that the floor in the basement looked awfully shiny... I turned on the basement light... 2 inches of water.

This is the same basement I spent the whole summer of 2009 agonizing over who I'd get to water-proof it. The same basement I nearly bleached myself to death in trying to kill any leftover mold from BEFORE the waterproofing.... The same one I just had tiled a few months ago because I was FINALLY confident that it wouldn't leak again. The same basement where the girls had just put ALL their toys so they could have nice restful bedrooms and a nice playroom downstairs.

Sump pumps don't work when the electricity goes out...

Instead of a quick, hot supper, the girls had peanut butter and jelly, and I'm REALLY hoping Daisy will start in the morning. Filly said she'll come and get the girls if she won't.

I am still blessed in many ways: I already knew TJ and that was comforting; if Kitty is fixable I know Rick will be fair with me; the girls weren't overly traumatized by tonight's events and didn't have to be out in the rain; I have some very dear friends I can call when I'm in a bind like this one; and I have something of a backup plan for tomorrow. I may be able to salvage some of the girls' toys, I always said they had too many. Oh, and something interesting happened in my life so I could write about it.

I apologize. I really thought I could put a better spin on this. (I will admit, I had to laugh at the girls' "carnival ride" earlier tonight.) I'm sure I'll find it all amusing in about 6 months...

But tonight? While I can find some silver linings...

Well, it just ain't funny.

No lesson here, just random nonsense from my world

2011-04-26T22:02:00.014-04:00

My backyard's grass is too long. Way too long. Between school, internship and rain, I haven't had a chance to get the mower out. It's become a regular haven for rabbits. More on that later.

Mary Gina came down from Northern Kentucky to stay with me during week, going home on weekends, for most of March while she worked down here. Mary Gina is my other sister. Too long to explain.

Anyway, she's my counseling hero. She's been at it 20 years or longer. And she's frickin' brilliant. She's fun and she has all these stinkin' amazing ideas. Did I mention she's hilarious? And brilliant?

She flat schooled me playing pool once... but I don't hold it against her. (So you can see, it's sister-love, right?)

We had a blast while she was here. We made chocolate cake in a cup; staged a "Leprechaun Invasion" in the kitchen the day after St. Patty's that sent B.B. into orbit; she taught P.D. to use the word "nonsense" interchangeably with "stuff"...

"Hand me some more of that banana nonsense."

"Let's take a crack at this homework nonsense."

"K, if we're gonna do that we have to go to the store to pick up some nonsense."

We ate real food that I never get to cook because the girls' two votes beat my one; sat up late and watched Firefly nearly every night on Netflix (I love that show! Of course, she did too). I forgot how fun it was to have another adult in the house.

Of course, all was not perfect. My bed is king size, so it just made sense that she take half of my bed instead of sleeping on the couch. Someone in your bed when you've been alone in it for 3 years is an adjustment. That adjustment wouldn't have been so bad, but she fell in love with Sophie the Wonder Dog and because of all her begging, Sophie got to sleep in my bed instead of being sent to P.D.'s.

Grumble, grumble, but not much. She at least was good about putting Sophie out in the morning.

Then it happened. One morning Mary Gina (sans glasses) called up to me, "Kelly! I think Sophie had one of the girl's toys in the yard and she brought it back in all wet!"

I came to the top of the stairs to see MG standing there looking down at Sophie who was proudly carrying half (not all, HALF) of a REAL RABBIT in her mouth... looking very pleased with her little Jack Russell self.

I grew up on a farm. I was not shocked, just concerned about how to get her out the door so Mr. (or Ms.) Rabbit's carcass did not end up on my carpet. Then again, I went a teeny bit ballistic.

Me: Ahhh! Mary Gina, get her to go out! Get her out!

Mary Gina (blind sans glasses): What? The kids have tons of toys. I'm sure it's just wet from being outside!

Me (realizing MG can't see it and trying to keep from freaking her out): Just herd her toward the door!

MG (bending over): Hey Soph, let's go out, k?

Meanwhile, I start down the stairs. Sophie sees MG reaching for her prize and darts right past me up the stairs and straight under my bed, her favorite place to take toys, pencils, books, shoes, anything she can get her teeth on, to chew into oblivion.

The look on Mary Gina's face when I told her what Sophie really had in her mouth was priceless. We went on a mad search for a flashlight to see if we could get Sophie out, or at least fish her prize out if she dropped it. None of them were working. Mary Gina refused to go into my room. "What good will I be? I can't see!"

By the time I managed to get a lamp down beside the bed where Sophie normally hides, she was gone. I guess she ran back out when she heard me coming. The best I could tell, there was no rabbit under there, but we conducted a search of anywhere we thought she may hide one. We spent the next couple days sniffing around the house "in case" Mr. (or Ms.) Half Rabbit didn't get taken back outside. No smell, it's all good...

Until today. When P.D. called her in from outside this morning, Miss Sophie brought a new prize, a WHOLE baby rabbit, in with her. I thought P.D. would have a nervous breakdown until I got that thing thrown off the back porch outside.

When I came back from taking the girls to school, I noticed that Sophie had retrieved her new prize from the yard and was on the back porch chewing away... but over half of this prize was gone. When I looked out later there was just a tiny bit left.

I sent MG a text: BTW, figured out what happened to the half rabbit. Sophie ATE it! She brought in another one this morning!

MG: OMG that is SO GROSS!

Me: Tell me about it! P.D. was traumatized!

MG: So am I, sister, so am I!

Stats and Labels

2011-04-18T00:18:00.004-04:00

I am often been surprised when someone mentions to me that they read something in my blog. I was shocked to learn my big brother, the most awesome Pat, had been here. (Yes, it's hero-worship, and yes, he knows. Really, I have the most awesome siblings in the world.)

I recently discovered a setting in the "editing" part of my blog called "Stats."

Fascinating!

1. While my numbers aren't huge, way more people read this than I imagined, or than ever let on. (Have I mentioned I LOVE comments on my posts? Just sayin',)

2. I'm going to admit, I've become obsessed with checking the numbers on the days after I post... I had 108 pageviews in April... whoa.

3. The most popular all-time posts are generally ones that have been stumbled upon by some unwitting Googler, the ones with common "keywords," particularly those related to Christmas in the titles... "Humbug" "Spirit of Christmas" "Reindeer Poop?" WHAT? Who Googles animal excrement?

4. The other most popular ones are the ones featuring videos.

5. Apparently, there's something in a few of my posts that are keywords in foreign countries... I've had 241 views from South Korea, and double digit views from Netherands, Taiwan, Russia, Germany, Japan, Brazil and Pakistan. Gee, my popularity is international! And YOU can say you knew me when....

I must say, learning that real people do read me has motivated me to post more, even with drivel such as this...

Anyway, in the interest of readability, since I apparently DO have an audience, I added labels to my blog... so any reader might easily find ramblings of interest more readily. If you think of a label I should add, please let me know.

These statistics are fun, but REAL feedback? Whoo hoo, that's the bomb-diggity!

I will warn you, the "Amusement" label means that I find a particular post amusing, but you may not.

This post being case in point.

Thank you, thank you, thank you God!!!!

2011-04-13T14:01:00.002-04:00

The Lupus results came in early... the result I was afraid to even hope for came in...

NO LUPUS!

The title says it all!

Update:

2011-04-13T11:16:00.003-04:00

The results for most of the bloodwork is back, waiting for the doctor's office to call me with it.

Oh, BUT the Lupus results won't be back until next week... Ugh.

It will be fine, it will be fine, it will be fine...

Oh, and I talked to Momma yesterday, seems P.D. already told her. And she WASN'T freaking out! Go Momma!

"What Happened" Isn't What WILL Happen

2011-04-11T22:18:00.021-04:00

WARNING: If the date is prior to Friday, April 15, you are my reader, you know my mother, and you think you might be tempted to tell her about my blog, stop reading this post right now. Momma does not need to worry when there may be nothing to worry about.

I will tell her all about this when I know more. IF you read this and tell my mother, you can rest assured not only will she call me in a complete state of panic, she will tell me who told her and I will come down on your head with the wrath of the Apocalypse.

If you don't know my mother, or feel assured you can wait a few days to let me tell her, by all means, keep reading.

Last Sunday morning, before leaving to go to Deat's parents' home for a couple days, P.D. developed a rash on her face, for the third time in the last 6 months.

I took her to the pediatrician's office the last 2 times, and on the first visit I took the Nurse Practitioner I was speaking with into the next room to explain about her Daddy's Lupus and ask, “Could this rash be Lupus related?” She assured me it was a contact rash, gave her a steroid shot and some hydrocortisone and sent us on our way. WHEW!

So, this time, since their grandparents wanted to see the girls and I had a counseling conference to attend Monday and Tuesday, I sent the hydrocortisone with P.D. and didn't worry about another doctor visit. Been there, done that, right?

Monday night V. (Deat’s Mom) called me to say that Deat had a similar rash when he was young. He also said she had often kicked herself thinking that the rash was the actual first Lupus symptoms and she hadn't pushed it then.

She was very convincing, and I, quite frankly, freaked. I felt my throat close up. I couldn't talk. It's one thing to stand beside your partner and try to battle an illness... it's quite another to have your mind take you back to the worst 7 months of your life, (particularly the scenes from the last 2 of that 7 months) only seeing those scenes with your BABY in the hospital bed. It took me forever to calm down enough to remember that I'd asked about Lupus the first time the rash appeared and to tell her that. V. apologized for upsetting me so much.

V. called me again Tuesday night saying the same things… nothing new to add, only reinforcing my fears. Me thinking: It took me 24 hours to calm down from our last conversation and you just wanted to call to make sure I was sufficiently worried?

Backtracking: a few weeks after Deat died, crazy with fear, I called his rheumatologist about having the girls tested for Lupus. She said "No. The girls might have all the markers for Lupus but it may never ever flare. Don't drive yourself crazy. If it flares, you'll know it and we'll deal with it then."

I picked up the girls from their play rehearsal Wednesday (I was at work when they brought them home.) and later that evening V. called with the same concerns again... at which point I nearly lost my cool with her. "V., I said I would handle this, and I will."

I spoke to Doctor B. (a doctor from home I consult with about nearly everything) the next morning and explained my concerns: this could very well be a contact rash and I'd be putting myself (AND P.D.) through all this fear for nothing... but the tests could still say the markers were there... I can't begin to describe how frightening that is. Doctor B. said it might be a good idea to take P.D. to a dermatologist to let a trained eye look at the rash.

So, I called her pediatrician for an appointment to get the referral. I then called my in-laws to tell them what had been done. Lest you think otherwise, I'll just say, I adore both Deat's parents, and they love me. They've been through so much, I know they weren't trying to scare me, they were just scared themselves. I apologized for being so short with V.; I explained that the repeated calls felt like she didn't think I heard her the first time, and I told them I would keep them informed at every step.

Friday, at the pediatricians: This time I had the doctor instead of the PA. I explained the whole story to her and she got this very concerned look on her face. She told me the PA had not noted my Lupus fears in P.D.'s chart. I showed her where in the initial registration with her office I had listed everyone of Deat's health issues in the history. She immediately wrote a prescription for all the blood work. I think she was scared. I know she scared me. We'd have to go to the hospital Monday morning (today) to have the blood drawn. I hid it from the girls, but I felt like I was in the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Over the weekend I had some time to process all this. (I talked to a friend who went through Deat's illness with me, then I had class, breaks and lunch with a bunch of friends who also happen to be counselors-in-training. Kinda makes it easier, huh?)

I realized that even if the diagnosis comes back positive, it doesn't mean I'm looking at a repeat of what we went through with Deat. (If you're interested, all the updates from his illness are logged at: What Happened) Deat was in denial before we discovered that his kidneys had shut down. Deat's Lupus had been out of remission and flaring uncontrolled for quite a while before we found it: long enough to completely destroy his kidneys, and that takes some time.

If P.D. has Lupus markers, and she has a flare, it won't go unchecked. She's not her Daddy, she can't just explain away any symptoms I see. I CAN "make" her go to the doctor. Just saying those things out loud did wonders.

So, yesterday afternoon: I explained to P.D. that we were going to the hospital to have the blood drawn. I told her that if she had questions she'd have time to think of them and ask me. She had a few, mostly about how much it would hurt. She also later came and asked if she could take her "Daddy Blanket" (a quilt I had made for her from her Daddy's shirts) with her for comfort. She had a hard time sleeping last night...

I kept waiting for the inevitable "BIG QUESTION" but it never came, so I asked her this morning,

"P.D., do you know why they want to test your blood?"

"Yes, for Lupus."

WOW. Such perspective. My baby is smarter than her Momma... she's taking things as they actually come. She was more worried about a needle stick than finding out she may or may not have Lupus. She was very brave when they drew her blood.

I am so lucky to have that kid. I still don't know why in the world God saw fit to bless me as much as He has with her. The blood tests will come back Wednesday, possibly as late as Thursday.

I think I'm finally in a frame of mind to handle whatever they say.

Shhh! It's a secret!

2011-04-03T16:41:00.010-04:00

Lucky readers! (All 8 of you!) Another blog!

The circumstance for this post? The stars have finally aligned just right: the girls aren't home and I have homework I should be doing.

I've felt a bit like a phony. TLC says in her blog how she admires my bravery in that I put so much of myself "out there," but I've been avoiding writing so I could keep some things to myself. So, today I'll be disclosing something I've debated for some time. Shhh, I'm getting ready to tell you a secret:

I think I'm ready to date again.

There.

I said it.

In print.

It must be so.

Did I tell you guys about my foray into dating way back? I bet I didn't.

I've had something of a hang-up about admitting to any interest in the opposite sex. Despite my bravado in my "About Me" about trying to get away from the title "Deat's Widow," I clung to it. Deat was the greatest guy I ever knew, and I was extremely proud of being his wife. Admitting I wanted to get "out there" again equated to further relinquishing that part of my identity... it was too hard... and somehow, I was afraid I'd be seen as disloyal. Now, it's been 3 years, I think it's okay.

Anyway, on to my forays:

About a year after Deat died I ran into an old friend from high school, one I happened to have had a pretty big crush on back in the day. Darrin is one of the sweetest people I know, a gentleman, considerate, and he always wears the most infectious smile.

We went out a couple times. At the end of the second date, he looked at me with that sweet Darrin-grin, and said, "Kelly, honey, you ain't ready to date."

I was disappointed, but I think because I mostly just wanted a distraction from all the hurt I still felt.

More recently, I sort-of had a (hmm), semi-romantic "thing" going with a guy from way back in my past from about July to February. Very complicated. Mostly over the phone, so I called it "safe." "Kirk" and I have a long history of "near misses" in our relationship over time, from as far back as 1993.

Rational-me can't stand him; dreamer-me is crazy about him. Let's just say "Kirk" isn't as far along on the typical life spectrum as most people my age. I told myself this "thing" was a good distraction from the "real" stresses in my life. I told myself I wasn't emotionally invested. But, okay, yeah, I was. Still am a little bit. I learned that a great deal of Kirk's and my attraction for one another is about who each of us "imagine" one another to be, rather than who each of us actually are. Needless to say, missed again.

Then there's my friend, Kelly. (Yeah, he has the same name as me. I'll try to write so you can tell us apart. If you get confused, he's the one wearing the Braves hat.)

Kelly and I used to work for the same company, and he was actually my boss for a brief time. We found each other again on "LinkedIn" back in August and just started chatting, texting, calling each other. Strictly platonic... besides, he lives in 5 1/2 hours away, how safe is that?

He was going through a rough time, and we shared a lot. Kelly is someone I really respect. We ran scenarios from our lives by each other for comment. A lot of our conversations revolved around the both of us being "relationship challenged." (He thought the whole thing with Kirk was ridiculous, and kept telling me I needed to quit hiding and get "out there.")

Then one day, Kelly (gasp!) flirted with me! Completely innocent, but it made me think. It brought about the beginning of the end in Kirk's and my latest "near-miss." Here was someone much closer to my own set of concerns, values, priorities... and he was expressing that maybe I was attractive? Whoa. (Not to mention, he's cute as a bug's ear.) And in terms of our conversations, flirting with me was kind of a major step for Kelly, a change I think he was looking for in himself.

BUT: then he met someone there. And man, I wanted to dislike her, to pick her apart and find things wrong with her, but I can't. This relationship, so far, seems to be really good for Kelly for lots of reasons. For a little while I resented that I wasn't getting all the attention I had been, that he didn't "need" my friendship as much. I took a week or so to pout about it, then things went back to normal. We're still friends, I worked through my "abandonment" issues... Besides, if we got together and got married someday, how would we ever know whose mail was whose?

So anyway, back to me, here, now. I'm at least more open to the idea of getting out there. (Not that I'm fighting suitors off or anything.) But, I think I was very likely sending out signals that I wasn't interested in the idea whether I meant to or not. Maybe now that I'm more open to it I will meet someone or maybe even go out with someone I already know... who knows? .

I may even tell you guys about it.

To be continued...

Note to Self

2011-03-19T01:43:00.006-04:00

Stop bragging about Delmer's blog

I just checked and he's blogged, not once, not twice, but FOUR times since my last entry. I wish I could say my posts "inspire" him to blog more, for fear of the magnitude of increased traffic my 7 followers will bring to his site. (Uh, one of those being THE Delmer himself.)

But he just checks my site for the music...

Sigh...

Snippet (or She Ain't Dead but the Way it's Looking...)

2011-03-11T00:32:00.013-05:00

So, I've been a lousy blogger of late. I swear I really have tried to think of something interesting and thematic to say...

But tonight I was just over on What's A Delmer Look Like. For those of you who don't know, Delmer is my blogging hero. I want to be just like Del when I grow up... (Though I doubt I'll ever grow that far, I think he's like 6'4".)

Anyway, Delmer never fails to amuse me... and he doesn't necessarily write big, long. meaning-stuffed, thematic blogs... he sometimes shares snippets, tiny slices of his life and the things he encounters.

So, in the interest of emulating my hero, here is your snippet for today:

The World's Most Surreal Window Sticker

It was on a van in front of me in the elementary school drop-off line this morning.

In an arch over a heart it read:

In Loving Memory of

Below the heart it had a name... since I don't think I should tell the name let's say it was:

Fred Jones

(My apologies to all the Fred Joneses out there).

THEN, below the name in very small letters it read:

He's not dead, but the way it's looking it won't be long.

Worth It

2011-02-27T01:44:00.005-05:00

As I write this, it's 12:45 am and I've just submitted my last paper for my ethics class, the one that was due at 11 pm. I've written 3 papers for this class, the most recent 7 pages long, not including the abstract and " page + 1/4" of references.

Writing papers for Dr. Derenzo has been a challenge: she IS the self-described "Accountablity Police". I really thought I'd started early enough to meet the deadline. However, to be truthful, despite putting in approximately 15 hours on this piece, I still could have managed to turn it in on time.

I could have turned in a sloppily edited paper on time. Nah, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. If I get dropped 1/2 grade for lateness, so be it. I know I turned in the best paper I could write.

There's also another way I could have made it by the deadline. I could have skipped the talent show at The Gusto Theatre tonight. I made a conscious decision to walk away from my paper for a couple hours... the approximate time it took me to finish my edts.

I made that choice for a variety of reasons. The first of those was simple: my girls have had to walk around here on eggshells, not to mention spend time away from home as I've struggled to write papers and attend this class. We don't subscribe to cable, so while I've been here they couldn't even entertain themselves on my laptop (I've been using it) or the family computer (it sits in my bedroom and my workstation for writing and studying happens to be my bed). They deserved to have Momma take them someplace fun.

My second reason was to show support for my friend, Henry Dowell, the impetus behind everything that happens at the theatre. I couldn't begin to thank him for all he's done for my girls, especially P.D., in taking the time to teach them about drama over the past year and a half. Plus, in the course of dozens of rehearsals and working past one fairly bad spat (my bad, Henry) he and Kelsey Shea, his right-hand woman, have become very good friends to me. Supporting each other, that's just what friends do.

My third and not the least reason, was to show support to my "theatre babies". Participating in productions at the Gusto has not only added to the lives of my children, but also to me in giving me the opportunity to meet and learn about so many really awesome teenagers and kids. I've watched them learn and grow with every show, and couldn't help but fall in love with them. I am constantly rewarded for taking an interest in and loving these kids, they never fail to let me know they love me back.

I delighted in every performance tonight, just out of sheer affection for the kids on stage. Several of the segments featured the "Gusto Dancers" performing one of the many dances they've used in shows over the past year and 1/2. I was tickled when they called P.D. to the stage to perform with them. I laughed when, as they prepared for their final dance of the night, to Funkytown, they called Benny (another parent) to join in.

Then, the chanting started from the stage, "Kel-ly, Kel-ly, Kel-ly..." Who was I to tell them no? I've seen them do the Funkytown dance so many times I actually surprised myself by knowing most of the moves... when I wasn't running into Heather, another Gusto parent. And I can't tell you how much fun it was or how great it felt that they wanted me to join in.

So, my paper was late. I'm accountable, I'll take any penalties.

It was SO WORTH IT!!!!!

Reindeer Poop

2010-12-16T20:24:00.009-05:00

So, my paper was late. I'm accountable, I'll take any penalties.

It was SO WORTH IT!!!!!

Guest Blog Spot: The REAL spirit of Christmas.

2010-12-12T20:01:00.005-05:00

My friend, Mike, asked for a spot on my blog. I'm sure Mike believes that it's more well-read than it is.

Mike's sister has been my best friend since I remember having friends, and I've known him (and his tenacity) since we were itty-bitty kids. (I watched him chase a rooster than was almost as big as he was with a tobacco stick.) He's family, I am required to oblige.

Hopefully, if you don't live in Lexington area, this may inspire you to offer help where ever you live. I cede the floor to Mike:

Hey everyone! Christmas is here and I would like to take the opportunity to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas! For some people this holiday season will be especially hard due to job loss/financial hardship, difficult family issues or worse...the loss of a loved one. It may not mean much at the moment, but you are in my prayers and the prayers of many others.

Christmas is a magical time. Time for hope, optimism, love and security. For a lot of us, Christmas is a beautiful time. Time to spend with family and loved ones. However, for many families, all that is wanted and needed is for a hot meal to share and maybe a gift or two for their precious children. The spirit of Christmas lives in the heart of children and we have an opportunity to keep that spirit alive. There are many charitable organizations in need for food, clothes and toys for these families and I ask that everyone take the time and think about what they can donate. Clothes, toys, food, money? It doesn't matter. Everything counts and is desperately needed!

For those in the Lexington area, if you do not know where to go to donate, please allow me to point you to Quest Community Church at 410 Sporting Court next to Champs and Meijer off Reynolds Rd. For others, I am sure any church will be willing to accept your donations or at least point you to where your gift is needed.

http://www.questcommunity.com/

http://www.questcommunity.com/being%20christmas%20year%20end%20letter.pdf

Quest has teamed up with God's Food Pantry and other kitchens for feeding the poor. According to the latest reports, these places are short 35000 pounds of food . Also, Quest is teaming up with Vineyard Church and the Catholic Action Center for toy donations so that some families in need can have something for their kids to open this year. The goal is to supply for 15000 families! Together and through God's great plan, we can answer their prayers.

For those of us who are able, it is the time of year to give generously and see those generous gifts be used in ways that God has planned. You don't have to believe in God or be a Christian to understand that there are people that need our help. I simply request that if you can spare some food, clothes, toys or money please do not hesitate to offer assistance to those in need. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16). The key word there is GAVE. He gave this gift to us not to sit under the tree unopened but to be opened, received and shared with everyone. So I ask that if you can, please donate what ever you can to what ever charity you choose.

God bless you all and have a very Merry Christmas!

Update: 12/20/10: From the Quest page:

Quest Community Church - YOU DID IT! U became Christmas for 1000s by giving 35707 lbs of food & filling an entire semi (+4 over) w/toys. Awesome!

Yep 35k pounds of food and a full semi trailer full of toys. Christmas is going to be great for a lot of families in need. Thanks to all who donated!

Cha-ching!

2010-12-07T15:10:00.009-05:00

What? A new post?

Well, yeah.

1. The semester ended yesterday.

2. Today was a snow day, so we put the tree up!

I will tell you, last year's tree o' my discontent was introduced to the garbage guys. I only wish I could say shortly after Christmas.

I almost kept it. After the debacle that was last year's lighting, I ordered a Lightkeeper Pro from E-bay. John and Sabrina brought me an endless supply of light spares. John and I spent hours (and hours, and hours) trying to get it to re-light. We replaced approximately 50 lights. We shot (and shot and shot) those strings with the Lightkeeper. We managed to get half the light-strings going again... As I took it down, I kept thinking it seemed a shame waste all that hard work, when John and I could anticipate another merry exercise in frustration and futility the following year...

After New Year's, the neatly-packed-up box waited on on the back porch for the snow to clear so I could carry it to the storage building out back. Then it waited for the mud to dry up. Then it waited for me to get tired of tripping over it and find some divine inspiration to pick up and carry the hated object the 50-or-so steps to the building.

Meanwhile, Sophie the Wonder Dog discovered that chewing on cardboard was her new favorite past-time. Then she discovered that eating Christmas lights made her sick. (Yes, she chewed enough away to crawl in.) So, procrastination led me to dispose of the hated object. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

The girls and I made fun of the tree displays that were already up in the stores before Halloween. Somehow, I had it in my head that I was the only one who might need a tree this year, so I waited until about a week and a half ago to take the girls shopping for one.

We carefully surveyed our findings. We debated the merits of real trees (as much as a 9- and 5-year old can contribute to said debate). We decided without the Christmas-y smell, they weren't worth the trouble, so we went from tree-to-tree in the Wal-Mart real-tree collection sniffing. (None of the Wal-Mart trees had any aroma worth mentioning.)

We went to Lowe's and K-mart, admiring the Christmas yard decorations... somehow I think God frowns on light-up pigs dressed up as angels, but who am I to judge?

We decided on one as close as we could get to our old tree, turns and all. We chose the 7 1/2 foot "Madison w/colored lights" from K-mart (apparently, Martha Stewart no longer has a Christmas tree line in the L-town K-mart). As is the lot of procrastinators, I found one on display but none in stock. Oh well, the truck was due the next day, (Wednesday) maybe there'd be one on it. I went the next day, no truck.

Annnnnd... speaking of no truck, I had to take my truck (which had been immobile for a month) and get it fixed before I could buy the tree so I could get the tree home... I digress. Oh well...

When we finally got back to K-mart on Saturday, not only were there no Madisons in stock, the display was gone too. Much to P.D.'s disappointment, the only one even close was only 6 feet tall, and it didn't turn either. At least the box was much easier to carry. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

This year I wore long sleeves, so only my wrists look like I've been working in hay. Although this year's tree bragged of 1563 tips (as opposed to the 1506 on the Martha tree), I must say, it seemed much easier. Since this one was so comparatively small, I didn't need the turn function, it turned in the base anyway.

As I worked, I kept hearing much whispering from the kitchen. then the microwave running, so I stopped shaping for a bit. When I stopped, they noticed I wasn't making any noise and hollered "Momma! Don't come in here! It's a surprise!" When they allowed me in, they had prepared lunch for me: a plate with their version of a grilled cheese (toast the bread, then put on the cheese and melt it in the microwave), a pre-sliced and cored apple, cheese puffs, and almost hot hot chocolate. I must say, it was the best lunch I've had in some time. How such sweet babies came from my sarcastic line is beyond me.

With the smaller dimensions, we decided only to hang the ornaments that actually meant something to us. It's made a much homier, more aesthetically pleasing tree. I couldn't be more pleased with how this one has turned out.

Finally, the "surveying angel", because of her large size, seems to overpower our new tree, so she's now sitting on a side table for mere decoration... Um, in the same spot she's been sitting since she came off last year's tree. (Procrastination as a positive? YES!!!!! Cha-ching!)

ME-OW

2010-08-31T10:14:00.013-04:00

I love it when opportunity presents a moment to simply appreciate the things we already have. Others may have so-called "better", but finding those little perks can certainly do much to keep jealousy at bay.

Deat used to name all our vehicles. His convertible Mustang, was, of course, Sally. My little Ram 50 from when we first married was Rachel. His Sebring was Fritz. My GMC Sonoma was Gertie Mac.

My current truck is a 2001 Dakota, she had just 4,000 miles on her when we brought her home. We needed the Dakota because at the time, it was the only small extended-cab truck that featured a bench for a car-seat rather than the traditional jump-seats. My old job kept me on the road constantly, so in keeping with our previous logic, he chose one with a 4-cylinder motor for economy, plus it met my preference for a standard transmission. We test drove it a few miles, it seemed perfect for our needs.

That said, let me add: there's a reason Dodge stopped making 4-cylinder Dakotas in 2001. The body is too big for the motor. "Daisy" has no power at all. Living on the edge of Appalachia, Home of Steep-Hills-Everywhere, this doesn't make for a pleasant driving experience. Going north on the interstate, in several places I have to down-shift to keep her from dropping down to 40 miles per hour.

I will say, in this manner she has probably protected me from my lead foot on more than one occasion. And, she's managed to take me over 160,000 miles (Deat couldn't drive a standard, so I know it was me). Deat picked her out, and made every single payment as a present for me. Money can't buy her.

The current car is a 1997 Buick Riviera that has had the same last name on the title since she first came off the lot. She belonged to my in-laws, and we bought her from them a few years ago when my mother-in-law decided to upgrade. Deat loved new cars, but since she had all the bells and whistles, she was satisfactory to him. She also embodied a nice typical Buick feature, the simple smoothness of the ride. He never loved her enough to name her, however. She's given me very little trouble, despite the 131,000 miles showing on her odometer.

When I embarked on attending school, I knew times would be lean, but I decided that was okay; I didn't have any debt outside my mortgage, and while they aren't the newest, I had two completely-paid-for vehicles to drive. I figured if one broke down, I'd have the other one to use until I could get repairs. So what if the newer of the two was nine years old?

A few weeks ago, I spent quite a bit of time riding with my sister in the new Tundra she bought for her husband. I had no idea of all the technology available. It has blue-tooth installed to take your phone conversation right through the speakers. It has GPS. It has a jack for their I-pod so they can choose from hundreds of songs they want to listen to. I could go on and on. It's a beautiful truck.

Since then I've been the teeniest bit green over it. I looked at the vehicles in my driveway with a bit less pride, and perhaps the slightest bit of distaste. I started noticing that it seemed that everyone at church, every one of my peers at school had nicer and newer automobiles. I started to feel the tiniest bit inferior.

This morning, however, the Buick gave me that "second-to-savor" I needed while driving back from taking the girls to school.

Miss B.B.'s preschool is on the very south end of town, right off the old north-south route. This road, especially near the start and end of the school day, is as busy and hectic a road as any I've driven in Lexington. At this particular intersection, you might wait and wait and wait even to simply turn right. Oftentimes, especially in Daisy, I have to wait for the light to change to get out. It's not horrible, but it can be an annoying, lengthy wait because the "change" trigger usually does not engage unless there is another car across the intersection.

This morning, I arrived at the intersection just as my light turned red. Northbound traffic was really moving, but I saw a small break coming up. The Riviera has another wonderful feature: a Supercharger. I turned, stepped down on her and she took off like a shot, 10-20-30-40-50. She seamlessly merged in, never even slowing the vehicle behind me. I grinned at the small adrenaline rush I had when her motor awakened from her typical almost inaudible purr to her quietly powerful roar.

I think I'll call her "Kitty."

To Tony

2010-07-23T01:55:00.012-04:00

Tonight I received some unhappy news. A dear friend (Tony) has been battling cancer for some time and has kept me and other friends updated through emails (similar to the "Deat Updates" I did when Deat was ill.) Tonight, he sent one telling us that he's essentially lost the battle, that the doctor told him there's nothing left to do. Tony guesses that he may have a few months left.

He asked a favor: to write or email a memory of him or a time he's shared with each of us that he can compile in a book for his family. I love this idea, as some of you know I've asked Deat's friends to do the same on his memorial website as a gift to my girls. I love that Tony is putting this together himself; but that's Tony... he's putting together something that will comfort his family long after he's gone. I'd tell you more about how great he is, but hopefully my contribution will do that for me.

So, this is what I wrote.

You never know how much the little things you do bless someone, and so often we forget to tell people how much something that seems like a "little thing" means to us. I am humbled and honored to have that opportunity.

Almost 10 years ago, my husband was unhappy in his job, and was offered a chance come back to the job he had loved at the radio station here in L-town, Kentucky... 100 miles from my family, my friends, and everything that was familiar to me. Two days after we had decided to move, we learned I was expecting our first baby (P.D.). I was intimidated at the idea, but as I told Jerry (Deat) , "You're miserable, you're fixing to make ME miserable, you'd probably make the baby miserable... Let's go!"

In the first several months after our move, I was spending the weekdays in central Kentucky doing my old job, coming back to L-town on the weekends. I had been away to college, but this was different, this was GOING to be my HOME but I didn't really have much in the way of opportunities to get used to it.

When someone said to me, "Oh, you live in L-town, do you know so and so?"

I replied, "Well, if they're not Catholic or a public official, I doubt I've laid eyes on them!"

A better answer would have been, "Well, if they don't work at the radio station or they aren't Tony Cambron, no."

Tony was St. William's, and really L-town itself's ambassador to me. St. William's was a very welcoming community, but Tony really stood out. He introduced himself the very first time we attended and made a point to speak to us every single time he saw us, usually with a joke or funny story, and always with that great welcoming smile. Tony was the guy who really made me feel that this town "could" become my home.

He always asked how I was coming along, and when P.D. was born, he was the first to carry her off and show her to the rest of the church. Of course I had to have "P.D.'s buddy" at her first birthday! Thank you for that, Tony.

My other big thank you's are for the comfort he brought me during the hardest period of my life. These updates seem so familiar to me, I sent them out in '07 and '08 when my husband was battling Lupus and kidney failure. Tony sent me the best responses, and for those I am grateful. When Deat was in the hospital here in L-town, Tony came to see him. When I came in later, Deat mentioned Tony's visit and laughed as he shared their conversation with me. I don't remember what they talked about... but at a time when Deat's smiles were fewer and farther between, it was a million-dollar conversation to me.

Losing Deat was, and is, by far, the most difficult thing I've endured... but Tony was a bright spot in that, too. The night of Deat's visitation, we invited people to get up and tell their favorite story about Deat. I loved hearing them all, but Tony's was my favorite. He told of watching us come into church and how, eventually one of girls would "act up" and demonstrated how Deat would end up collecting all the "baby stuff" up and carrying her out...

then he did Deat's walk.

I pointed and howled with laughter, "THAT'S EXACTLY IT!!!! I used to tell Deat all the time, 'honey, if ducks had long legs that's exactly how they'd walk!'" I can't describe how, in the midst of so much sorrow, how much that laugh meant to me. It wasn't the act of someone making fun, it was the act of someone who cared enough to know; of someone who loved and respected my husband.

Tony also took the time to write a beautiful tribute on Deat's memorial site, a wonderful gift to me and to my girls, and one I treasure. I've read it well over 100 times, and it always brings comfort.

Tony Cambron, you're about as fine a man as I've ever known... and I thank God for putting you in the places He has in my life. I also thank YOU for being who you are: God knew you'd bless me, and you have, again and again. I am especially grateful to God and to you for what you sent to me tonight, for this opportunity to TELL you.

We've been so lucky to have you, Tony. I know this journey is frightening, and I wish I knew just the exact right thing to tell you to make it easier, but I'm not sure I do. So, I'll remind you of something you said in your gift to me... I'm sure Deat will be right there with St. Peter, ready to strike up a conversation to make you feel at home.

We love you, Tony.

Kelly, P.D. and B.B.

Extra Credit

2010-06-06T23:42:00.002-04:00

I'm here tonight seeking extra credit. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to chose a theory that interests me and spend the next 2 weeks incorporating the core concepts of that theory in my everyday life and interactions, and to journal about that nightly.

The good news is, I've decided to kill two birds with one proverbial stone: work toward some extra credit and alleviate my guilt about not providing T.L. and Delmer something to comment on. The bad news is you'll probably be reading more about Adlerian Theory than you ever hoped to. I find everything about the material I'm learning fascinating, but you may not. I asked Dr. Parsons about injecting humor on a project in another of his classes and was told no, so I'm not sure how I'll approach this assignment.

If it becomes too dry, at least my readers will have a sound substitute for Ambien!

Giggling

2010-05-18T00:25:00.001-04:00

Just passing along an entertaining website: www.ticklenotes.com. It's okay in the latest entries, but I've been reading the stuff from '07 and giggling my head off.

Mostly, it's stuff he's overheard... with a couple other random entries. Just sharing!

Random School and Counseling

2010-05-14T22:38:00.004-04:00

Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been awhile. I'm sorry!

School... uh, wow. So many things run through my head about it...

1. I have this fear I'll have to quit blogging when I become a counselor. I mean, I don't think you can find this blog just by Googling my name, but what if a client DID find it somehow? Way too much self-disclosure here.

I like to think I'm pretty transparent in my friendships, so I don't mind my friends' reading it. Strangers? Well they don't know me so who cares if they judge? But client relationships are very different animals. Guess when the time comes to make the decision I'll be checking the ACA Code of Ethics.

2. My first semester was very emotional for me, I wanted so badly to do everything RIGHT. I wanted so badly to be respected my peers in my classes... I didn't handle the pressure well and lost control of my emotions in more than one class.

I did my paper for Foundations of Counseling about "Stress in Master's Level Counseling Students" (ha ha!) but the topic was perfect for me to do... I learned a great deal, most importantly being that some of my issues, the areas where I felt particularly anxious, were already recognized stress factors for counseling students. In the course of writing the paper, I came to the conclusion that if you're a stressed-out master's level student, at least in a counseling program you're dealing with a staff that is trained in recognizing your issues and is willing to help you sort them out.

Also, I learned (the hard way) that an A- isn't worth 4 points, it's only worth 3.7 on the Lindsey Wilson grading scale.

SO, the pressure is off! If my peers think I'm a basket case, so what. Damage done, can't fix it... and my profs have shown an interest in helping me succeed. Besides, my 4.0 is already blown, no more pressure there either... Whoo hooo!

3. That said, (and with aforementioned pressure off) I LOVE learning this stuff. My classes have been and are absolutely fascinating to me.

Tonight was the first meeting of Systemic Family Therapy. I was nervous because the image I had in my head of this prof (from students who have already had him) was that he was a real hard-a**... so I was nervous, but I really liked him. He seemed pretty forthright, so I don't imagine I'll have to guess about where I stand. Besides, I really, really enjoyed the lecture he gave tonight. I feel good about the class.

4. Which leads me to one other thing I worry about a bit. My friends know, I live by the philosophy "If you 'think' something nice about someone, you should just 'say' it"... I'm torn by that in dealing with my profs because I don't want to come off as a brown-noser.

I'll admit, I have a pretty bad case of hero worship for the profs I've had so far. I think much of what we learn in class is simply "how to be a better person" for lack of a better way to describe it. Since these people are TEACHING these things, they've already internalized them.

Recognizing this huge admiration thing I have going, I worry about where to "draw the line" in my dealings with them. I guess I'll keep learning as I go...

Oh, and I promise I'll try to blog more often...

WOO HOO!!!!

2010-03-08T23:51:00.001-05:00

Checked my unofficial transcript to see how I did in my first class

I got an A! I got an A! (repeat 100 times)

GRIN!

Getting Out and About

2010-03-07T10:33:00.014-05:00

Last night was just plain happy. I doubt I can do it justice.

As is the theme of my blog, a huge part of my healing process has been searching for who "Just Kelly" is. For a long time after his death, it felt like an act of desperation:

Is there anything left in here that's "just me", and therefore, any part of me that DOESN'T ache for his input? Deat's mark seemed to be on every single thing I did or even thought about.

Facebook has actually been a tool in this process in that it's allowed me to reconnect with people who knew me well before I was ever Deat's wife, people who remembered a previous version of "justkelly". For a while, I mistakenly imagined that perhaps I could just remember who I was before we married and just "be her" again. (BEEEP, wrong answer.)

Even on the few occasions I did "go out" with old friends initially, I found (much to my frustration) that I couldn't stop talking about Deat. It seemed impossible to find very much about myself that had not, in one way or another, been touched, honed, refined by his influence.

I decided "getting out socially" was just too much of a hassle. As much as I care about the friends I've been out to see, I just felt so awkward and uncomfortable with myself, it was hard to completely enjoy it. So, I haven't "gone out" anywhere without P.D. and B.B. for almost a year, often using them as an excuse to stay home.

Several months ago, I was reminiscing about my days at EKU, and wondered what happened to Richie. Richie was 6 years my senior, one of the guys in "The Gang" who taught me to play and love the game of pocket billiards... but he was more than that, too. (Okay, so I had a crush on him...) Despite the bravado in the Powell Building, he's one of the most soft-hearted people I know. I don't know if I ever actually came out and told him how I felt, but I know he knew. "Romantic near-misses" aside, we grew to be very close friends.

We got in touch with each other a few times after college... one of those times was soon after he'd gone through a very painful divorce... not long after that was when Deat and I got together, and we lost touch again.

So, got on Facebook, typed in his name, and bang, there he was. We corresponded on Facebook, and soon got on the phone and talked for hours.

He had been remarried for several years to Wendy. He sounded so much more comfortable with himself than he'd ever been: it was easy to tell that Wendy is a primary factor in that. He admitted that when he read that I was widowed, he couldn't help but shed tears for me, his friend. He told me that it reminded him of how important it was to tell the people who really influenced your life what they meant, so he wanted to tell me.

He also said the tears also came from trying to imagine what I'd been through, how in the world he'd go on if he'd been in my shoes, if he'd lost Wendy. To me, that spoke volumes about their relationship, and I was so happy he'd found someone he loved so much. I just knew I'd love her too.

BUT, Richie is a talker. He told me that Wendy knew all about who I was, well before we got back in touch... all of it. Ugh. Of course, I responded that her feelings came first. The last thing I wanted to do was create friction in his marriage, and I knew I would be uncomfortable if I were in her shoes. But he said he'd also already told her that we'd gotten back in touch, and she knew he was planning to call me, so not to worry.

A few days later, I saw Richie "on" Facebook and IMed, but it turned out it was actually Wendy putting up some pictures on his page (Wow, this is awkward) but we ended up in IM conversation. She was gracious and I could already tell she had a great sense of humor. We had a great conversation, "friended" each other, and started chatting.

We had a direct conversation where she admitted that she suddenly felt stupid for having been nervous about me. I told her not to feel stupid, to me, it just meant that she knew she had something of value and her first instinct was to protect it! I told her I completely respected her marriage and would never do anything to jeopardize it. Heck, she's the best thing that ever happened to Richie, the last thing I want to do was mess that up!

From there, Wendy and I became IM buddies, and until I went back to work, chatted nearly every day. Most of the time, our conversations have very little to do with Richie at all. She's totally amazing. How many women would have been willing to give me a chance? Not many, but she did. I got to keep my dear friend, and add a new one. (Oh, and she's also a reader, Hi Wendy!)

So, anyway, she and Richie decided that I needed to start getting out more, and asked me to come to their town so we could all go out and let Wendy and I finally meet face-to-face. Anytime Richie and I talked, he'd harass me about how he needed a partner to play pool at a restaurant/pub where he and Wendy are regulars.

I still love to play, but I'd only played a couple times in the last two years. I really didn't want to embarrass myself, especially since Richie sounded so convinced that I was a better player than I am. We made plans for one weekend, but they fell through. (Partly from a mis-communication, partly from my apprehension.)

(Man, I prefaced the dog-doo out of this entry, didn't I?)

This past Thursday I happened to see Wendy online and was telling her about how I was going to miss the girls since they were going to my parents' for the weekend, and Wendy jumped on it. "So, you're free Saturday night, huh?" (Oooops!) Okay, no ducking, time to get out again. I was nervous at first, but then, in the course of a lecture Saturday our professor mentioned that worrying was wasted energy.

Okay Kel, so stop worrying, find your pool stick and just go!

I arrived at the restaurant, was there for 5 minutes and felt completely at ease. Wendy is just as awesome in person. At dinner, she or I would say something and the other one would chime, "Me too!"

After dinner, we headed out to the pub they'd been telling me about. Wendy and I settled in at the bar and started playing some silly computer game, but it was fun. We "people watched" and laughed about some of the antics of some of the uh," less-than-sober" patrons.

Brief bar-table billiard etiquette lesson for those who don't know:

The winner keeps the table. On most tables that take quarters, the rule of thumb is that if you want to play, you place your quarters on the table and wait your turn to try to beat the winner. If you win, you play the next one waiting.

Richie put his quarters up, followed by a friend of his. His friend left, so when Richie won, I was next in line to play. After that game, we asked the next ones in line if they'd play partners against us.

We started playing a little after nine, and kept the table until just before last call about 12:30. I shot so much better than I imagined I still could. (I'm sure Richie and Wendy's confidence helped!) We laughed and talked and just had a great time.

Then opponents and by-standers started complimenting my game. Geez, I had forgotten how good that felt!

Funny moment: I stepped out for a quick smoke-break and ran into a pair of guys that Richie and I had just beaten. One of them stopped me:

"Man, you are really good!"

(smile) "No honey, you just think I'm good because you aren't used to seeing a female play well at all."

"Well, you're 10 times better than me, and your partner, he's 100 times better. I want so bad to play like he does, but I just can't."

"Well, here's a little perspective. You're how old, 22 maybe?"

"Twenty-one"

"Well, there ya go. My partner in there, he started teaching me how to shoot the same year you were born!"

He seemed to feel better after that.

It was just a simple, comfortable, happy night, on so many levels, for so many reasons.

Had a night that was just "for me." and knew Ev and Ab were in good hands so I could relax.
Finally got to "cement" my new friendship with Wendy.
I saw first-hand what a great marriage God blessed my dear friend Richie with, and it made me so happy for him.
It was so neat to see Richie be "the top dog". To use an old "Gang" expression, he shot like "God on the pool table."
Spent time doing something that I loved, and had loved well before I ever met Deat. On a VERY rare occasion, Deat would come watch me play, but it still wasn't his interest. Pool was one tiny aspect of me that was, and still is, truly, "just me."
While I did mention Deat from time-to-time, it was just a comfortable part of conversation, it didn't feel awkward, or even "compulsive" as it used to.

Thanks, guys, I so needed that!

After Deat's death, it took a long time to accept that the best part of my marriage was that nearly every single part of me was colored by my relationship with Deat. I had to instead learn to embrace that fact and incorporate it into this new life. Trying to run away from that simple truth wasn't making the pain lessen anyway, much as I tried to "will" the hurt away.

So, okay, most of who I am is still wrapped up in Deat and his influence, but not all. Saturday night I saw a lot of the old Kelly: just older, wiser, and much more comfortable in MY own skin.

Hmm, maybe I should have named my blog "justkellyhere 2.0"

Funny thing happened on the way

2010-02-27T00:39:00.008-05:00

past the 2 year mark/2nd of Deat's birthdays since his death...

I started feeling a weight lift. I started WANTING to work on accomplishing something for myself again. I really started seeing myself as somebody "other" than just Deat's widow. I know, I say that in my bio... but lately I've started really feeling it.

I know some of it was simply passing these milestones. It's hard to describe. I also think a great deal of it changed after a really rough "practice" group therapy session for class a couple weeks ago. I had to view myself in a pretty harsh light and I didn't much like what was being reflected back to me.

Somehow, I also think I can attribute part of it to completing my first class (It was "Group Counseling Techniques") toward my masters' tonight. My master's, that I decided, by myself, (okay, with a big ole push from above) to pursue.

I really wish I could fully describe it. For the first time, I'm spending more mental energy looking forward and less looking back... and it doesn't feel like something I have to WORK at. It doesn't feel disloyal anymore. I suppose some of that came from, as I mentioned before, deciding a couple days ago that Deat would have chastised me for making a big deal out his death date as a morbid thing to do, and probably would have insisted that I not do as much as I did. (see February 23 post)

But, I did cheat and do one more thing... I learned I've picked up a couple readers who don't actually know me (how exciting!) and one of them asked me what happened. Rather than even try to condense that incredibly long story, I copied the file that had all the "update" emails from his illness into a new blog, "What Happened." (Okay, so I was fresh out of catchy titles)

Maybe that seems like more dwelling, but somehow, to me, it felt like another step toward closure.

Will I still talk about Deat and about widow issues? Well, uh, yeah. Kinda hard to erase 17 years of my life... and I wouldn't want to if I could. This journey was/is part of who I am today.

It's just that as of recently, it's doesn't feel like the only part.

Note: Just now as I was reading what I thought was final edit, it just so happened that "Send Me On My Way" started playing. (#173, second from the last on the player on the right as of this writing) came on. Turn it on, it fits this post perfectly.

An Exerpt from a Cat's Diary

2010-02-25T10:34:00.003-05:00

Deat would have been 35 today, so over on Facebook I posted this. (Don't forget to pause the player on the right so you can hear it)

Happy Birthday Buddy. You always made me laugh.

This is a spot that Deat and Trevor recorded while Deat was at WWEL. Trevor is doing the intro, Deat is the cat. I wanted to only upload the sound, but since FB won't upload mp3 files, I had to make a movie. I included the pic from WYMT on the first few seconds, b/c that's how Deat looked when he was announcing, but I only left it up for a few seconds because it's funnier if you just listen...

Today, 2 years later

2010-02-23T22:16:00.007-05:00

It was two years ago today that God released Deat from that horrible illness. I've been flip-flopping for 2 days about what to do about today, about what to write... should I recap the last 2 years?

Um, no. Not tonight. I actually made a point today NOT to mention what today was to the outside world, at least not until now. I didn't want a bunch of those old sad looks. P.D. asked me this morning if we were going to do anything special, I told her I had thought about it, and I didn't think her Daddy would want us to. (I actually think he would find that morbid.) I think she was relieved.

Besides, I've lived those last moments, that day, that night, over and over. Deat wouldn't want me to do it again... I'm sure I will at some point, accidentally even, but I'm not doing it on purpose. I may do a sort of recap sometime the coming weeks, but not tonight.

So, here's a weird disjointed collection of things I wanted to talk about:

1. I did do a couple things today. I called Jack at the jail (Deat's old boss). He's not running for re-election, so I wanted his take on who's running. We had a nice little chat, but he was too busy to talk about it much. I also called Todd, a dear friend and deputy at the jail who has since been moved to the night shift. I cannot say enough about how much these two people (and everyone at the jail, really) did for us during Deat's illness. I am forever grateful and love them both. And Todd, well he always makes me laugh. Todd can make griping about something the funniest thing you ever heard.

2. Right turn, Clyde. (If you don't get the reference, you obviously didn't get dragged to the drive-in to see Clint Eastwood in the late 70's like I did. Anyway, for my purposes it's just a warning that I'm switching gears)

3. Yesterday, B.B. looked at P.D. and said "Sissy, you're an asshole" This is a problem... mostly because it's so funny to hear her say it, it's hard to correct her properly, and partly because it's my fault.

Me: B.B., (trying so hard to keep the giggles to a minimum) honey, you can't say that, that's a bad word

B.B.: You called Mr. Dowell an asshole.

(Yes, same Mr. Dowell, you know I really like you when I start calling you names. At this point I lost it and laughed. I'm a really bad mother!)

4. I don't remember whether it was Tina or Sabrina who gave me the Gourmet Mint Chocolate Truffle hot chocolate that I've been avoiding... but I had a cup tonight and whichever one of you it was, I love you to distraction. As for the other one; no, I won't be sharing.

5. Tonight as I was looking up something on my computer, B.B. sat down on the corner of my bed (My desk sits right beside it... I gotta finish the basement at some point and get this thing out of my room!) got my comb and started combing my hair. "Momma, look at the bathroom, look out the window. (When I comb her hair, to get her to turn the way I need her to, I tell her what to look at. "Look in the mirror, baby, look out the bathroom door... ) I had no idea that having someone comb your hair for you felt so good. And it was just a great moment. Little does she know, she'll be stuck with this chore for life...

6. And we have lots of great moments. Earlier tonight it was while the girls were unloading the dishwasher, (B.B. does the silverware, P.D. everything else) then sitting down together for supper. P.D. was just chattering away about this and that. After B.B. finished my hair, she and P.D. were playing some make-believe game together.... I hope someday B.B. realizes how lucky she got in the big sister department. We're a pretty cool little team, we three girls.

So there, I blogged. Onward through this life we go...

It's Almost the Two-Year Mark

2010-02-10T21:21:00.008-05:00

And what a journey it's been so far. May I say the learning curve has been much longer than I imagined?

P.D. asked me question yesterday that threw me for a loop.

"Mama, did you love Daddy?"

"What? Yes, more than anything in the whole world! Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, I hear you say that he was your best friend, I never hear you say that you loved him."

"You don't remember? Daddy and I always kissed each other hello and goodbye... we constantly told each other we loved each other."

"No, not really I don't."

Wow. You really never know what they know and don't know. I had to remind myself, P.D. was only six... he's been gone for almost a 1/4 of her whole life. She remembers special things he did and said, but what he was like, day-to-day, eludes her. B.B. doesn't remember him at all.

The one thing, perhaps the only thing I've been consistent about in the past 2 years is my concern for my girls' feelings in all this. I've made a special point to give them as much information about their Daddy as I can, and to preserve anything that might give them any inkling about who he was for when they're older. I read books, talked to therapists, and I really thought I had THAT PART of this life covered.

"Everything else can fall apart, as long as I handle this well, I'm okay." I will say, I am pleased that P.D. felt she could ask... I did something right.

Today, P.D. and I practiced her lines for a play she's in... "The Four Presidents" at The Gusto Theatre here in L-town. God bless Mr. Dowell, he gave P.D. a part as one of the reporters, knowing her Daddy had been one.

I really enjoyed giving her tips on how to deliver her lines. It gave me the perfect opportunity to tell her how much I loved hearing her Daddy on the air, and how beautiful I thought his voice was. Yet another lesson learned, thank you God for the chance to immediately act on it.

Along the same lines, if you knew Deat, (Jerry), and you haven't already, please take a few minutes and go to the guestbook on his memorial website, and share a little about him, especially any good stories you may have. You can SAY how great he was, but a story will SHOW it.

I think it will mean so much to the girls to read about their Daddy and what he was like from all sorts of angles. Also, if you know other people who knew Deat, (especially those that I may not know) please, pass the site along. You have no idea what a gift you'll be giving my girls, and therefore, me.

Yet Another Reason I Hate That Tree

2010-01-24T19:01:00.006-05:00

When I was trying to fix the tree, I needed a power strip so I could reach... so I borrowed the one from the sump pump...

It's been raining here for 3 days straight. I'll let your imaginations take it from here.

Maybe I could just forget about a playroom for the girls and offer them an indoor pool...

Accountability

2010-01-12T11:08:00.001-05:00

Okay, you guys are my witnesses... I will be avoiding the computer until my house is clean.

No really.

I mean it.

I'm really going to clean the house today.

No if, ands or buts.

Uh.... (dang, I ran out of things to say to keep me from it...)

New Year, Big New Beginnings

2010-01-04T21:46:00.016-05:00

Today was HUGE. Today I went to orientation for Lindsey Wilson's L-town-Campus Counseling and Human Services Master's degree program. I'm finally going after the career I originally planned for myself way back in 1988.

Of course, being the procrastinator that I am, I put off filling out my paperwork until, uh, today. I've been thinking about this career change for years, well before Deat ever became ill. I just never felt I COULD. I actually began taking steps toward this goal in May, but I've been nervous about it. I've had the financial aid confirmation since July, but I still kept dragging my feet. Today, the deadline was looming, time to fill it out...

I was going down the form, merrily filling in blanks until I got to the last requirement before the signature:

VI. AUTOBIOGRAPHY:
Please attach a two (2) page type-written statement describing your reasons for seeking an advanced degree. Detail any areas of specific interest. Please include, to the extent that you are aware of them, areas of strength as well as areas of growth, both personally and professionally.

Okay, so I find this little gem at 1:30 pm, I have to pick up the girls at 3, and be at the orientation at 6. Two pages? I can knock that out. And, thanks to some help from Filly and kids (they came over early to help occupy my girls and to keep them while I was at orientation) I did.

A funny thing happened when I started writing. I just kept getting more and more excited. By the time I did the final edit, I was grinning like a maniac. It's really, truly official: I'm making my first major step toward a new life. I'm taking my first step toward new beginnings for the girls and me. I'm taking the very first all-on-my-own major step I've made in over ten years. Scary as it's seemed for these many months, it's really starting to feel good.

Also as I was finishing, I realized that this essay included some information I've yet to share with my readers. It may be a bit formal and dry, (or it may be a bit too informal for the purpose) but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

This is how and why I'm going to become a counselor, as addressed to the Lindsey Wilson office of Admissions:

My faith is integral to my decision-making process, making my reason for seeking an advanced degree in Counseling and Human Services is simple: God led me here.

I began college as a Psychology major in August of 1988, with the goal of helping people. Of course, I spent the first few years working on my general education requirements.

Up to that time, I had led a fairly sheltered life. I was continually taken aback by the life-experience of my dorm-mates: stories of rapes, abuses, losses experienced due to suicides or drugs, growing up in single-parent homes, or worse, homes with an abusive parent or step-parent. With my naturally empathetic nature, these stories haunted me.

I spent a year out of school.( January 1991-December 1991) During that time, I experienced a huge betrayal from two people I had been trying to help, was devastated by it. God used this betrayal to draw me, in my brokenness, to Him. My priest referred me to a wonderful therapist who incorporated my faith into my healing. While I benefited greatly from the few sessions I attended, I remained hurt and wary from the betrayal. Adding the betrayal to the previous experiences in the dorms, I feared that I would fail in my efforts to assist others. I worried that with my sheltered past, I would’t be able to “relate” to clients’ problems. I realized there would be times that I most certainly would not be able to see a patient through to “recovery” and doubted that I would ever be able to “leave it at work”.

When I returned to EKU in the spring of 1992, I took a selfish option: I left the field, worrying that this career would “break my heart.” I took a career-counseling course to seek a new field of study. My two best options at the end of course? Counseling or Advertising/PR.

I transferred to Morehead State in Fall of 1992 as a Journalism major with an emphasis in Advertising and Public Relations, and I enjoyed it a great deal. My “dream” at that time was to design ad campaigns for major corporations, however during my tenure as an advertising representative for the campus newspaper, I discovered a talent I had not realized: sales. As one of ten representatives, I brought in almost half of the overall revenue that semester. My only sales training had been listening to my father talk to customers in his Allstate office for many years, I couldn’t understand why everyone wasn’t having the same success that I was. I believe the traits and skills that made me a successful sales person will serve me well as a therapist: empathetic listening, genuine interest and concern for my clients needs, and an ability to assess and gently offer need-based suggestions and solutions. Often during my sales career, I found customers sharing far more of their personal lives with me, a complete stranger, than one would expect.

After I graduated, I moved home to P-town, Kentucky and although I sought careers in design, I soon learned that the salespeople made higher incomes. In my quest for financial independence, I continued in media sales and promotions until after my marriage to Jerry (Deat) in 1999. Late that year, I was contacted by the National Federation of Independent Business with an opportunity that offered almost double my current income. In my desire to support my husband’s broadcast career, it seemed to be the best option.

The career change was fortuitous; in February, 2001 my husband was offered to return to a position here in L-town, Kentucky. My employment allowed me to simply switch territories to accommodate the move. Our older daughter, P.D., was born in September of that year. I joined the board of the childcare center we chose for her in December, and it was there that I met Traci, the director of the center.

Traci, like me, was transplanted to this area. We bonded instantly and became inseparable: calling each other multiple times a day, lunching together often, seeing each other through aggravations, hospitalizations, the gamut of headaches and heartaches. I had never become so close to anyone so quickly. One Thursday afternoon in June of 2002 I called her at work to say, “I just wanted to tell you I thank God every day for bringing you to me.” The next morning, she died in a car accident on her way to the center. Her 3 year-old son was flown to UK, but died about 3 weeks later, leaving her husband and 1 year-old son.

For the first month after her death, I was consumed with helping her husband. I then ran out of jobs to do, and crashed. This was my first experience with the death of a close loved one and I was completely confounded with the myriad of emotions running through me, highs and lows hitting one after another with no warning. Finally, my husband insisted that I seek counseling.

I researched grief online, and while it was helpful, the 3 sessions I had did wonders for me. I found in this instance, the value came from simply letting out my feelings. I could finally express all my pent-up hurt: I felt I couldn’t talk to my mother, it upset her so much to hear my hurt; I couldn’t talk to my husband, he not only hurt for me, he was grieving his own loss. My therapist didn't know me, didn't know Traci. I could rattle on to my heart's content with no guilt. However, in the final session, my therapist said something that cut straight to my heart, “You know what the real shame is? YOU should have been a counselor.” I was never satisfied in my sales career from that point on, but I felt powerless to leave it.

From here, the story fast-forwards to July, 2007. My husband’s kidneys failed from Lupus complications. I kicked in to high-gear as super-wife: keeping notes of every word from every doctor’s mouth (he had 8 different ones), requesting copies of every single lab report, keeping track of the 12-16 different medications on a database. If there was any question about whether the doctor had the best, most recent information, I spoke up. I maintained a calendar and attended every appointment from Somerset to Barbourville to the UK Hospital and at the end, to St. Joseph’s L-town where his body finally said “no more” and he died February 23, 2008. Several physicians commented during Deat's illness that they wished more patients had someone to advocate on their behalfs as I had Deat's.

That said, God used Deat’s illness to demonstrate His infinite love, glory and protection to us. God sent strangers with messages we would need to hear. Prayers were asked, and answered, often within hours. Many experiences we’d had in the previous years, experiences that had left us scratching our heads, “Why, God?” suddenly made sense in that the blessings we would need to help during that traumatic time were already in place before we knew we would need them. God even put the final prayer, one I didn’t know I could pray, on my lips at the moment Deat died. I’ve often been told I should write a book detailing the blessings as they came, one after another.

I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for all God gave us during Deat’s illness. I knew God had a purpose; I wondered what it might be. A few weeks after Deat’s death, “God’s Call” for His service became stronger. I met with an internet friend here in L-town, and (similar to my initial meeting with Traci) the friendship immediately clicked. She felt like an old friend from almost the first minute and we quickly fell into easy conversation. Before we parted that day, she looked at me and said, “Wow, you should have been a psychologist or a counselor or something!”

God started sending those comments to me from all sorts of different directions. In the initial months after Deat's death, I quickly learned: while this is club none of us wanted to join, no one “gets it” like another widow. I took a great deal of comfort in talking with other widows, until more than one suggested that I would be a good therapist. Even my grief-therapist at the time agreed. I kept shaking my head, no.

In September, 2008, I realized that in my grief, the motivation required for a successful sales career simply wasn’t there. My priorities had changed. I took a desk-job here in L-town. Not long after, in the course of a conversation, the director of my two daughters' current child care, a dear sister in-Christ, suggested, “I think you’d be a really good counselor.”

Knowing she would understand the reference, I cried, “No! I don’t WANT to go to Nineveh!” A few weeks later, a friend at my new job dropped a brochure for this very Counseling and Human Services program on my desk as she walked in from lunch. The pull just kept growing. I’d find myself imagining how satisfying pursuing my original plan would be.

Finally, in May, 2009, I was fired from my job and my basement flooded twice in the same 2 week period. Financially, my girls and I can live frugally and survive for 2 years on Deat’s social security and with some public assistance. God removed any argument I had for avoiding this career option. I, only partly in jest, looked to heaven and said, “Okay! Okay! I’m going! I’m going! Just don’t send the big fish!”

The Theory of Stupid

2010-01-03T10:26:00.007-05:00

I was reading the Not-Right-Writer's blog today... she's an old friend from high school, super-smart, quirky in all the best ways, but a bit too hard on herself. Her most recent post included a lament about her husband and his actions... a few things he did that annoyed her to no end, and as her reader, knowing her feelings about aforementioned things, I'll say justifiably so...

HOWEVER... I know the secret to dealing with such "things"! I pass my secret, The Theory of Stupid, along to almost every new bride I know, to me it's key to preserving harmony and the female sense of well-being.

I started to write NWW a note, but since she reads my blog, I thought it better to impart this wisdom to all married womankind; a morsel that offers that extra bit of sanity for women in our Mars/Venus marriages, if you will.

Early in our marriage, I used to get REALLY frustrated with Deat. (St. Deat? Yes, St. Deat.) Sometimes it seemed every action he took (particularly outside my presence) was designed to wreak havoc on my mental and emotional stability: his jeans laying on the bathroom floor, RIGHT IN FRONT of the hamper, AGAIN! I fell into the seat-left-up toliet, AGAIN! He moved the papers that I desperately needed for work the next day and left me scrambling, AGAIN!

Then one day it dawned on me: He's just stupid. Deat didn't drop his jeans on the floor to annoy me: He's just stupid. He didn't sit giggling, planning the fun when I had stop everything and wash my behind from falling in the toilet: He's just stupid. He CERTAINLY didn't plan to interfere with my ability to help bring income into the house!

See, the problem with we women is we interpret every single action as MEANING something... as SAYING something about our husbands' feelings for us, for the things we value. "This means he doesn't CARE!" The reality: most of 'em, they just don't think that far ahead.

The good news: ladies, you can apply The Theory of Stupid to almost any idiotic move your husband makes! Truly, most of the time they aren't thinking about the consequences or our dismay... that doesn't mean they don't love us, they're just stupid.

I think I chose "stupid" because "thoughtless" feels too much like a major character flaw... something to fester over. "Stupid" has just enough meanness to satisfy the need for revenge, but at the same time, you really can't STAY mad at someone simply for being stupid.

He really does love you, he really does care about your well-being... He's just stupid.

Playing with My Blog

2010-01-02T10:39:00.010-05:00

I've been goofing off with this last night and all morning... it could have something to do with the cleaning that I'm desperately trying to avoid, but nothing to do with my competitive nature. (TLC, these blogs don't count... or maybe this and prior 2 could count as 1.) Or, it could have EVERYTHING to do with the fact that the girls have been at Deat's parents' house since Thursday night and this place is WAAAAAAY too quiet.

Anyway, I've finally figured out how to put THE RULES in a prominent place, and have the player available on every page.

I also chose a new random question to answer in my profile last night.

The new question was: You've successfully slain the dragon! How will you toast your marshmallows?

And I answered: Um, gee. Maybe if I'd TAMED him instead of slaying him I'd have options here...

Then I got to thinking: What if people think I'm calling Deat "The Dragon"?

So, for the record, Deat was not a dragon and I didn't slay him; though, there were a few random times in our marriage that he was and I wanted to. I have the autopsy report to attest to my innocence. (If you are offended by dark, recovering-widow humor, my apologies)

Just in case, I'm going to go seek a new random question now...

Oh, and While I'm Entertaining...

2010-01-02T01:22:00.006-05:00

Yes, I've mentioned it before, I am a huge What's a Delmer Look Like Fan.

I was just re-reading "Dear Airline Person" It's a prime example of why I think Delmer is so great: He's polite to fault and never takes himself too seriously. Some might (erroneously) assume he's a pushover. Not so, but in this post he even meets injustice with good humor. He's also the one who taught me to do my best to entertain. (That, and he directed his readers to my "Humbug" post. I was flattered beyond words!)

If you go read "Dear Airline Person" , after you read it don't forget to go back and click the "they break guitars" link in the post!

Oops, it isn't the first day of the year anymore

2010-01-02T00:45:00.007-05:00

Did I mention I'm not a big holiday fan lately?

I've often heard that the second year after losing a spouse is worse, and from the last 10 months, I completely concur. I talked to Sam today and we agreed that this Christmas (the second one for each of us) was much harder.

I told him I think it's because during the first year you're so busy figuring out the mere logistics of how to live life without your spouse, that you're almost too busy, too focused on figuring out what your "new normal" needs to look like, to greive properly. The second year, you have all your new "hows and whys" for your day-to-day in place, so its then that the magnitude of what you lost sets in.

Since that's a rather dreary topic, and I do so love to entertain, I decided to again add a bit of media for your amusement. I watched "Hancock" tonight, (Love Will Smith in any movie he does.) and this was the intro music. I liked it so well, I looked it up so you, dear reader, wouldn't have to.

Don't forget to pause the automatic player at the top right of the page! (Or, alternately, you can select #158 on the auto-player and skip the player below altogether.)

My Secret Favorite Christmas Song

2009-12-13T21:51:00.005-05:00

I was desperately trying to come up with something to say for tonight... if for no other reason than to goad TLC, but I got nothin'... one little story about B.B..

Today at Walmart:

Me: B.B., do you want to look for something to ask Santa for?

B.B.: No (long pause) I want to be mean and hateful!

(Of course, that's much funnier knowing B.B.'s disagreeable tendencies and juxtapositioning it with her angelic 4 year-old voice.)

And a confession...

HUMBUG!

2009-12-05T21:00:00.014-05:00

12/04/11 Editors note: If your Christmas tree is giving you problems and you Googled the name and got sent here, the only help I can offer you is to try THIS; although you can read the following year's entry and learn that it helped some, but not all of the problems.

P.D. asked me yesterday why artificial Christmas trees were invented.

"Well honey, I guess so people won't have to go to the trouble of going to buy a tree every year, they'll already have one at home. It's just easier."

Today, I had to rethink my answer.

For our first Christmas in this house, (2005) my mom bought a pre-lit tree for us. (Actually, for P.D.... she said that her baby deserved something better than the "table-top fiber optic gizmo" that Deat and I called "Our Christmas Tree".)

Oh, that tree that Momma bought, it's a beaut... a 7 1/2 ft Emerald Peak Tree (From K-mart's Martha Stewart line no less). It "features 800 multicolored lights and 1,504 easy-to-shape branch tips Revolving stand included" Yes, that's right folks, my tree TURNS. And man, that first 2 years, well, she was glorious. (Although, I will admit, having an angel staring down while turning in a circle as if she were surveying the room took some getting used to.)

Last December was terribly hectic, not to mention a hard one to "get into the spirit" so putting up the tree was a hurried affair one afternoon after school. I pulled apart the bunched-up branches like fighting fire. As a result, we had a somewhat "gappy" tree. Later in the season, one small line of lights near the bottom stopped lighting... no matter... in a few seconds the good side of the tree came around again anyway. Besides this thing has at least 16 different plugs (with a configuration so confusing, it came with all of the sockets pre-plugged except for the 3 letter-matched plugs and sockets required to connect the 3 different layers of tree.)

Today I decided I'd take a little extra care; I'd take advantage of those "easy-to-shape tips" to make sure our tree would look like the one on the box again. I thought to myself this morning, "I'll try to find that line if I have time and fix it, too."

So, I set the first section in the stand... two rows of branches that fall into place when you set them upright. I noticed as I was shaping the bottom row that the upper-row branches I kept pushing up out my way refused to say there, so I called to P.D. to bring one of my belts from my closet. I pushed all of the upper row branches up out of my way and cinched them with the belt.. worked like a charm! So there I sat on the floor shaping each tip, branch by branch; turn the tree, shape the next one... so pleased with my work... repeat for the next row.

Luckily, P.D. had retrieved not one belt, as I requested, but all of them, so I already had them for the middle section (five rows). I took the top-most of the middle sections branches, cinched them, then the second top-most, cinched them and so on down, so when I finished shaping the bottom-most section I was working on, all I had to do was release the belt above it, and only the very-next row would drop for shaping.

I really wish that had been as easy as it reads here. Those easy-to-shape tips (and the greenery adorning them) hurt! Anyone who has ever made the mistake of working in hay in short sleeves can relate to the scratches covering my lower arms. If you can't relate... be glad. One hour in, and I'm only beginning to shape the bottom-most row of branches for the middle section. It took me another hour to get those rows shaped.

Luckily, TLC called and kept me company for half of that ordeal and the shaping of the top section. As I mentioned to her on the phone, with 2 hours, I could have run out and bought a real tree, and the price would have been a cheap exchange for scratch-free arms! We discussed several topics as I worked, one being that she, (unlike me) had blogged 3 times in November and had also blogged yesterday. As I finished the top section, I told TLC I had to go... it was time to start the decorating.

I plugged in my 3 trusty letter-matched plugs and called to the girls for the first lighting....

Only one of that multitude of light-strings lit.... ONE half of ONE side of ONE row on the bottom of the tree. Just then, I noticed a tag on the plug leading into the base, "One spare fuse inside the socket." Hooray! It's probably just that fuse, right? I opened it up, checked the fuse inside, but it looked fine. I re-plugged the main wire into the wall socket... and now none of the lights will light.

Next year, I believe I'll be forgoing the convenience of my artifical tree for a troublesome real one!

Oh well, while my Christmas Spirit may be a bit lacking at the moment, my competitive spirit is alive and well... At least now I'm one up on TLC for blogging in December.

I Feel Lucky, Too

2009-12-04T15:36:00.007-05:00

Can you guys stand a story about how great my kid is?

Today is Friday, the day B.B. gets to spend all day with Mommy.

She's not actually old enough for Headstart (missed the deadline by 2 months) but she attends anyway at a local childcare. There's no Headstart on Friday, so we hang out together all day. Sometimes we go pick up McDonalds for breakfast after we drop P.D. off at school.

Normally, P.D. is my angel, always thinking of others and putting them ahead of herself. Most times, P.D. is really happy for B.B. when she gets to do something special. (My Dad says he's never seen a child as good as P.D.... he says he knows HE didn't have one!) Her sweet and kind nature make her sorrows that much more painful for me to see.

So, her reaction this morning really threw me. As B.B. was chattering happily about going to get pancakes, P.D. became jealous and hurt; she was so mad she wouldn't eat breakfast here at all. I reminded her that she and I had a lunch date earlier in the week after her doctor's appointment. Since I live for teachable moments, I also pointed out that this was why the Bible tells us not to covet... it only makes us miserable. I pointed out other examples where she got to go do special things without her sister. She was having none of it.

I spent forever on the phone this morning with my sister discussing it, it really upset me.

This afternoon when B.B. and I picked her up, she was in a serious but sweet mood. She reached over in the car and hugged me and said she was sorry for being angry this morning.

"I re-read part of 'A Child Called It' today." (A book about an abused child that had really upset her.)

Thinking this was P.D. changing the subject, I replied, "Oh, it made you really sad again, huh?"

"No, it made me feel lucky."

What? A new post?

2009-10-20T20:08:00.003-04:00

Short but sweet

Warning to Ms. D. (my therapist, also becoming my newest reader):

1. All (well, most) the names in this thing have been changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent

2. It will make more sense if you start from the other end and go chronologically

3. Um, I know I spend too much time on the computer but if I start blogging again (now that I've seen all the SVU's) that almost counts as something productive, right?

For my other readers:

Okay, so I've made some efforts toward getting better, but I'm still not medicated. I got a referral from my regular doctor for an appt. w/ a psychiatrist, but it turned out to be a doctor that I have a major conflict with from her treatment of my brother-in-law, (can you say "I lay the blame for Deat's brother's death squarely at her feet?) so I didn't stay for the appointment. Ms. D also gave me referral to another guy, but the appointment isn't until November 20.

BUT, I have done some other things. I joined Curves and man, endorphins are SUCH a RUSH! I feel so much better! I also restarted counseling with Ms. D. I still have a way to go, but I'm feeling much better.

Because of the family-history, my sister still says I need to get started on meds, but I'm not completely convinced. Perhaps it's my mechanical inclinations, but finding the right medication appears to be a trial and error process, and that whole idea gives me the willies. I like A+B to equal C, every single time, not A+B might equal D, or it could be E, or if neither of those work we'll try F... It's particularly unnerving to me when we're talking about putting something in my body with the specific task of influencing my cognitive processes!

So maybe we'll try meds, maybe we won't. More to come...

Fessing Up for Additional Accountability

2009-09-07T22:41:00.008-04:00

Where have I been? Well, I've been depressed.

I tried everything to fight my way out of it, and sometimes I thought I was winning. I kept telling myself:

If I could only get x, y or z accomplished, THEN I'll feel better...

It's just this dang (cloudy, rainy, snowy) weather. A little sunshine and I'll be back to myself

I'm just homesick, a couple days in Ruddles Mills and I'll be fine.

I just need to go to church regularly instead of hit and miss

I just need to lose some weight and quit smoking, then I'll get my confidence back..

I just need to focus on my job and get good at it again...

I'm really a praise hound, I just need some praise from someone...

And then, the more recent, the best one...

If only Deat were here...

Do I have a right to be depressed? Sure. My husband died a bit over a year and a half ago, and with him every plan I had for my life, and most of the parameters for my decision-making. Sure, I probably should still be a bit lost, a bit depressed.

But it's more than that. I've been battling depression since before he died... actually since before he got sick, since before B.B. was born... since before B.B. was even imagined. Even if Deat had never become sick, that damn "yuck feeling" would still be there running in the background like one of the myriad of processes in the background on my PC... not outwardly visible but sucking the power out just the same. For all my guessing and researching I wasn't recognizing what it was, so I wasn't counteracting it properly.

I like to think I'm a damn good actress. I like to think I hid it well. I like to think very few people suspected. I know there are some very dear friends of mine that I've had fooled (

I did a pretty good job of hiding it from myself for a long time. Yeah, yeah... Denial ain't just a river in Egypt. Shleprock says I'm one of the cheeriest optimists he knows. And I am a cheery optimist... but even the optimism has only gone so far. That sadness, that anxiety just kept coming back.

So this past summer I started giving in to it... I didn't call my friends so much. I spent more and more time alone. "Maybe if I get this one little project on the house done the blues will go away... but I don't feel like working on the project today... I'll play on my computer just a little while longer, THEN I'll tend to the things I've been procrastinating on. Oooops, I've wasted the whole day...time to go get the girls, put on the smile."

I kept thinking if I had set goals and accomplished them, THAT would make me feel better... the only problem was, I couldn't think of anything attainable that I wanted badly enough to work for it. I just haven't "wanted" anything... another symptom in itself.

I stopped fixing my hair, I stopped wearing makeup. It was an effort, an accomplishment, just to get a shower. I stopped answering the phone. I did what I had to do for the girls... but very little beyond that. I had a excuse for any and all of the symptoms. I found a multitude of excuses to stay home even though I had things out there in the world I needed to do. I'd started finding excuses to stay in my room anytime the girls weren't home.

So that's why I went to the Mills this past weekend. I desperately needed someone to "see" it. It had to be someone (in this case, several someones)"safe". Since there's a pretty strong history of depression in my family, I knew they would recognize it and call me on it. And they did.

I listed to my sister all the things I'd (done/been trying to do) to make it better... she answered "Oh, yeah, so how's that workin' for ya?" (Um, it hasn't been?)I've shunned medication for depression for over 5 years now, convinced that I should be able to overcome these feelings without it. (And how's that workin' for ya?)

I started on the road back to L-town with a list of things she told me to do... one of the main ones being find a really thorough mental-health professional to find the best medical and therapeutic treatment for this. As I drove, I started imagining what life would be like without this weight (figurative and physical) slowing my steps. It was a really nice picture... and for the first time in a long time, I have a REAL goal that makes me smile to think of what will come with it.

I'm going to fight this, with real weapons this time, and I am going to feel better.

And then, I really will be able to be the best Kelly I can be. I remember her. Without this weight, I know she's a pretty damn good one.

2009-08-15T17:41:00.002-04:00

It's All About Ass, Baby

2009-07-29T18:43:00.005-04:00

But before I get to the "Round Tuit" post which promises to be long and boring and of little interest to any of you... (I just want to post it for posterity's sake)I wanted to comment on a pleasant memory I had a few moments ago.

I just got over here from facebook and I noticed that a girl from home had posted this as her status message:

Life is about ASS.....everyone is either covering it, laughing it off, kicking it, kissing it, trying to get a piece of it, or JUST BEING ONE......

This was one of Deat's favorite expressions... in fact he quoted it so often he finally condensed it and just made it his standard response, particularly when he heard about bad behavior or if the word "ass" was used in any context:

"It's all about ass, baby."

When he wasn't on the radio or TV, he had a slight twang to his voice... and on air or not, his inflection and comic timing were hilarious... I can just hear him now... I may make that one my own. Man, it's nice to have good memories now and not feel like crying every time I have one.

(Which he somehow would have found a way to reply to that with that standard reply above)

Round Tuits and the Tuits they create...

2009-07-27T23:04:00.006-04:00

This is my Really Sweet Pry-Bar. (Not to be confused with Delmer's Really Sweet Minivan.) Follow the link, then search Really Sweet Minivan... the only thing more fun than reading about Delmer and his Really Sweet Minivan is hearing him talk about it, but then, I just love Delmer... I digress.

I bought my Really Sweet Pry-Bar for about $8.00 back in 2003 when I was remodeling our house so we could move in. I've spent hours upon hours working with it... quite a worthwhile investment. I learned then that working on, tearing up and repairing stuff around the house is my favorite pastime... When needing to unwind, get challenged and really aggravated, then relax again, some people go get their golf-bag, I go get my toolbox.

For size reference I put my cell-phone down next to it, right after I quit working with it tonight. I meant to write a blog today about how all the round tuits have grown upon one another... but as you can see by the time on my phone and the time on this post it's late, and I still need a shower... more to come.

Blame it on the Goober

2009-07-25T23:10:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I was gonna blog tonight about all my little "round tuits" I've been accomplishing.

I felt I needed to blog SOMETHING... I've been so inspired by my friend Terre. She's participating in a "blogathon"; she started at 8am and is blogging every half hour for 24 hours to support the Depression and Bipolar Alliance. What a challenge! If you'd like to follow along, go here.

Anyway, I was going to write a real blog, but my buddy Goober called and proceded to give me down the road for spraying bleach on the walls in my basement to make sure I killed any lingering mold.

At the end of the conversation, he admonished me to go gargle water twice and then drink 2 glasses to wash away any lasting effects of the bleach. I nearly drowned myself.

He knows I'm dumb enough to screw up gargling: I think he's trying to kill me.*

Anyway, I have to go to bed and get rest... I have major cleaning to do in the morning. MOMMA IS COMING! I had the house so clean the last time she visited she didn't wrinkle up her nose even once. I'd hate to let her down.

*playful sarcasm alert for the wit-impared

Substitute for a Blog (or, God is Great, Beer is Good, and People are Crazy)

2009-07-24T10:52:00.003-04:00

Since I went crazy blogging last week (no kids, I can do that with no kids, can't do that now) I started to feel guilty for the people who follow this blog.

So, in the interest of providing some kind of entertainment, I decided to pass along something I heard for the first time today and really liked. This may be a huge country song for all I know, I'm pretty clueless as to new music, but I liked it.