Goodbye and Good Luck

It's hard to believe that it's been almost 4 years since I started this blog. It was a whim, and a completely emotion response to my step-sister and father each having their own blogs. I wanted to be cool too.

I've spent some great time here. I've wrote some wonderful pieces, even if some of you don't agree. It's been fun, and work, and honestly my heart hasn't been in it in a long time. Sure, I'm still writing, but everything has been more for me than for the blog world.

September 21st I'm launching a new blog. I feel that it's more of who I am now and where I want to go from here.  It's still about my love of cooking, and being crafty, and it will be full of snark, we can't forget the snark. Its about finishing things and doing the things that I always said I would do "someday" and I've created a bucket list for the end of my 30ies. I've made both personal and professional goals as well as stuff I've always wanted to do. Like going white water rafting and staying at a bed and breakfast. It's about not waiting for someday.

Of course it won't be all about my journey to turning 40, it will still be me, without the anonymity. I'll be sharing recipes, and craft projects, both good and bad, and my outlook on life in general. I'm not going to wait until "someday" to do the things that I've wanted to do. My friend Andi has shown me that life is so short and that we aren't promised "someday".

So, for those of you who are interested. Send me an email at lifebeginsat30 AT (except you know @) live.com and I'll gladly send you a link to the new website, but since I get more messages from spammers than actual people, I'm not going to post the link here. Besides, I'm not anonymous any more. Gotta hide from the weirdos (Hi Mom!). No fake names of friends and family. No one was real here, didn't you know?

The new blog officially launches on September 21st with a fantastic giveaway. Fantastic I tell you!

That same day, this blog will cease to exist. It will just be a fond memory of where I started. I'll be removing this space, so that I can give my new space my full attention, since my heart is already there anyway. It's me, in color and not hiding behind Abby. Its me, flaws and all.

Thanks for the last 4 years. Thanks for reading. Thanks for letting me spew my sarcasm and nonsense into the world. Thanks for helping me find peace, and perspective, and a place to voice who I am. I hope you'll join me on the next phase of my adventure.

Much Love,
Abby Normal

Belief in Prayer

A few days ago, as I chatted with my sister-in-law about a new job that she was applying for, one of her regular patrons at her current place of employment came forward and proceeded to discuss with her that he would pray for her and that the situation, which she was torn about, would resolve itself exactly as it should.

He asked her if she believed that by praying for God to help with the new job, that she would indeed get the new job. She bumbled around, because she's torn about leaving one job for another. Yet his words struck something inside my head.

How often do I believe that what I'm praying for will happen?

Like how often I pray for something to happen, or for some guidance and I don't exactly get the response I was hoping for. If I even get a response. Apparently I'm giving up before I've even asked for what it that I want. Sucks to be a pessimist. Yet, I keep praying, but while I'm praying and hoping, there is a part of me that is telling myself that the odds of whatever it is that I'm asking for, aren't going to happen.

I've thought about it a lot the last few days, and I know that while my husband and I were trying to desperately to get pregnant and I was praying and bartering and begging with God, that a part of me believed that it just wasn't going to happen. Yet, while my friend Andrea has battled cancer the last year, as her health took a left turn and she ran into some complications, I stopped praying for a miracle, but instead that God's will be done. I prayed for peace for her and her family, I prayed for comfort for those that needed it, but never once did I ask that she not die. Simply because she would have been totally pissed at me for asking for that. Every time that I would pray for her, I could hear her voice asking me what I was doing when I would pray for a miracle. She wasn't praying for one, why should I be. I think that's why I've had...(searching for the right word here)...peace, comfort, even joy at the situation. Simply because she was okay with this alternative too. She's not in pain, she's not feeling guilty about missing out on her children's Halloween parties, and soccer games. I know that she'd rather have stuck around to watched her children grow up, she would be perfectly content with this alternative too as long as she knew it was what God's plan was.

I've had enough faith for things to work out for her and her family just like God would have wanted, just like she would have wanted, but I can't have the same amount of faith for my own life. Thanks to the misery of the last few months with my gallbladder, I had lost some weight, mostly because I wasn't eating. Thankfully (well not so much), I've managed to hold steady, and even gained a few pounds back. Yet the last few days, I've struggled. I don't like that number on the scale, and I've asked for strength. I need to get to a healthy weight, I want to get to a healthy weight, so I can be around and annoy my husband as long as possible. Yet, while I'm asking for strength to stick with it, part of me doubts that I'll ever do it. Which is probably the reason that I can't get the scale to move, unless I'm literally starving.

Part of me doubts that college will ever be more than a hassle again; that I'll never actually enjoy it again. School starts back next month, and for the first time since I started back, I dread it. Even with the lack of stuff to do at work, I just don't want to go back. I still want the degree, it's just lost its charm. Thus the crappy grades, lack of motivation to do homework, and general hate of it all in general.

Then there is the ever present infertility issues. Part of me wants to believe that if I lose enough weight I'll miraculously get pregnant. Yet, as I'm praying for strength to stick with going to the gym and eating better, part of me believes that it will never happen, and thus getting pregnant will never happen.

It's a vicious cycle, but someone has to stick with it. Although, for my sanity, I'd just as soon as it not be me.

So I've found myself wondering if by not having more faith that it will work out the way it was meant to, that in turn it's not working out the way it should.

If I don't believe that God can do it, then why should he prove to me that he can?

So, that's going to be my resolution for today, for tomorrow, and for everyday for the rest of my life; is to trust that God has my best interests at heart. I know he does, but I've got to learn to remove all doubts that between the two of us, I'm capable. Everyone else thinks I am, so I should too. I'm also going to have to believe his voice when he tells me to be patient; to believe that what I'm praying for will happen. That the child I so desperately want will come, that the weight loss will happen and the pounds will melt away, and that college will not steal my happiness, but add to it again. I'll resolve to have more faith in God and in my abilities and less doubt, because the only person who is being cheated and missing out is me.

Well, and my sanity.

The Case of the Smartphone Snobs

It was a dark and stormy night.

Okay, not really, it was a freaking hot and sunny day. But the dark and stormy sounds more suspenseful and exciting.

Perhaps we’ve entered the Twilight Zone of Smartphones, they are taking the world by storm.

Think about it, how many people do you know who own a phone, that’s just a phone? No internet, no email, barely sends text messages, but makes calls like a champ? I can name 4, and they are all 50+ years old. They can barely operate their DVD player let alone a Smartphone.

I’ll admit, I love my smart phone. Sorta. Okay, it’s more like a love/hate relationship. But, other than the sucky battery life, and the dropped calls, and the missed text messages, and the emails at 3am, it’s fantastic.  I like being able to get my emails from this blog on my phone. I like being able to Google an address while I’m away from my laptop. I like being able to take pictures, and get on Facebook and Twitter. Yet, there are some days I miss having that connection to the rest of the world. I remember as a kid when you would see someone broke down on the side of the road, and you would stop and help them. Now, all you do is pick up your phone and make a couple of calls to AAA or a handy friend is on their way to rescue you.

As technology has advanced I think that we, as a society, have forgotten normal social graces, and we’ve forgotten to teach our kids the same thing. I hate going to family dinners when the kids sit around and play on their phones. They don’t realize how much they are missing out on.

On a recent family reunion trip to the Dallas area, we watched the younger kids play and have the best time with their cousins. Yet the older kids stayed in the house and played on their Smartphone or their tablets. They missed so much by being glued to whatever game they were intent on playing. Granted they were glued to their tablets next to their same aged cousins, but unless you asked them a question regarding a game they were playing, you didn’t hear much from them.

Now you are probably thinking that is just a normal part of being a kid, and here is where I tell you how wrong you are.

I played with my cousins. I played horseshoes and washers with the adults. I played on the playground equipment. I entertained myself with my imagination and with the aid of a cousin or two. We spent time together, and we usually went home being the best of friends. I would imagine that if you asked some of the older kids they couldn’t tell you much about what was going on outside during their stay. They probably missed the cousins who tried to make their escape in the paddle boat, and the dancing extravaganza on the deck.

It’s time to unplug, people. Put the Smartphone down. We’ve implemented a no cell phone policy during dinner at our house. My husband and I should be able to spend some time together to reconnect at the end of our day to talk and catch up without Candy Crush or checking the weather to get in our way. After our reunion time in Dallas we also discussed how we would handle video games, Smartphones and tablets if we are ever blessed with children in our home. We played outside, we rode bikes, and we both turned out okay. Obviously raising our children the same way wouldn’t kill them.

So, step away from the Smartphone. Think of it like a zombie, just sucking the life right out of you.

Don’t worry, just like in a suspense book, the hero always wins, if they outsmart the killer or smartphone.

Broken

It's been a tough few months around here and an awesome long weekend away thrown in for good measure.

I'm certainly feeling less....lost. As much as I hated to admit I even needed them, the anti-depressants are helping. I'm starting to enjoy life again. I didn't realize how much I'd missed cleaning until the last few weeks. I've been cross stitching, and reading, and sewing, and I'm happy about it. I don't feel like it's being forced on me. I'm finding the joy and relaxation in it that I had missed out on for so many months. I'm still not ready to go back to school, but I hope to be more enthused about that when it gets a little closer.

I'm still suffering from some abdominal pain from the c-diff. Man, that is some crappy stuff. Literally and figuratively. Thankfully, the pills that the specialist gave me to help reduce the inflammation in my colon have gotten their act together and are in fact, working. I've had less pain the last few days, and I'm hoping this trend continues. I'm still having to be so very, very careful about what I eat, too much fiber, not enough fiber, too much grease, not enough grease, too much veggies, not enough...it's a very, very fine line. And when I don't walk the tightrope, I pay for it. I don't sleep as well, I don't feel as well. I'm still very, very tired, and I keep hoping that pushing myself to get some additional exercise will stop that, but it seems to just exhaust me more. I keep trying to remind myself, often, that 18 months is the average to get over c-diff, and that's without complications like I keep having. 18 months. It's been two.

Patience should be like money and grow on trees. Life would be so much simpler. Until someone stole your money and patience off your tree.

I've written tons of post the last month, I'm just trying to find the right time to post them. Some of them seem so...lost. I'd like to go back and re-write them and let the less crazy version of me come through. There's enough crazy on the internet without me adding to it.

The good news is, I'm on the mend. Between the pills, and the prayers, I'm finally being put back together. I'm finding that I'm less heartbroken than I was a month ago. It's an improvement, one that I will certainly take.

In Like a Lamb...Out Like a Lion?

Arg. Le sigh.

After Gertie the gallbladder, ended last semester with a bang, I wanted to finish my college career without any more "bangs". Apparently I didn't send that memo to the right person.

Saturday night I'm quite sure I had a puke on the side of the road experience that even drunk college students would be jealous of.

My husband had a Meat & Greet (yep spelled it that way on purpose) with his bosses and co-workers on Saturday night. I was excited to have a night away and some amazing Cagle's BBQ for dinner. So we were partying the night away. After dinner, I started feeling icky, but after an early appointment the middle of the week for some antidepressants (yep, I caved), I figured that it was the new meds. As they had already caused some other symptoms. So I wasn't too concerned, I just preferred not to barf on my husband's boss. Thankfully things ended and we left before I got sick. I told my husband that I wasn't feeling well, but he had been drinking, and I drove us home. The closer that we got to home, the more I was concerned about actually making it home before I had to hurl. I was doing the whole, breathe in, breathe out thing, and I was almost there. We turned onto our street, and I took another deep breath, and ... well, I'll spare you the details. But let's just say that down the street from us was a pile of vomit in the middle of the street. Because I was driving, I sorta used my shirt to ...um...catch the stuff while I could pull over.

So here I am, standing in the street in jeans, flip flops, and a shirt, covered in barf. Not wanting to get back into my less than year old car covered in puke, I took my shirt off, and did what any self respecting 33 year old would do. I left it in the street.

Yep. I abandoned my shirt in front of a complete stranger's house. I never really liked that shirt anyway. So it wasn't that big of a loss. My husband was kinda impressed that I got naked in the middle of the street though. I was impressed that I managed to drive 3 more blocks to our house and not puke, or get puke on anything else.

I've got a nasty bacterial intestinal infection called c diff. So, no school, no work for a couple of weeks, because I'm contagious. They don't want me to start an epidemic  They are totally no fun at all. Everyone should experience uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhea at least once in their life. I mean, where is there sense of adventure?

Tonight, I read an email from my advisor, because I'm trying to figure out how this semester is going to work itself out and I learn that my professors don't have to work with me. I'm sick. I'm staying home trying to get better, trying to make this work and turn in stuff via email and salvage some of my GPA for this semester, when I learn that it's up to the professors discretion. They can fail me for being sick and following doctor's orders and avoiding the faculty and staff. Even employees are protected by employment laws, but as a student, I apparently have no rights. They won't trust my doctors notes and information that I'm sick. That I'm actually protecting them. Isn't that awesome?

It seems like this week has dealt us a lot of blows. I'm getting limited funds for school for the fall and spring semester. Now I could be facing another F on my GPA. I worked my ass off this semester to attempt to make up for the F I got last semester, and now...well apparently, because I got infected from someone else with c diff, I'm stuck at home paying for their sins. Heck, they might have just been a desperate college student trying to avoid failing their semester, like I am.

Some days, I just would like things to work out for us, and not make things so difficult. Le sigh.

Suppose I Do....

Note: I wrote this post last September. So ignore the back to school references, and just pretend that I haven't had this sitting in my drafts for 6 months.


All across West Texas this morning, thousands of alarms were heard, thousands of cries of cranky children, and glorious shouts of joy were heard as everyone got up and headed back to school. (You know, back in August when I actually wrote this, so please allow for a small time delay, you've been warned.)

Unfortunately I wasn't immune. Not because I'm a teacher, or because I have children, but because I'm crazy and decided to continue to finish my degree. I keep hoping someone will invent a cure for crazy. I'd do it, but I'm an accounting major, not chemistry.

Sitting in church yesterday morning, after our pastor made a comment, that at the moment I can't remember. I'm blaming it on sleep deprivation and all the info that has been thrown my way today. My mind wandered a little.

More on that later. Simply because you need info for this to make sense. You know, in case you are just tuning in. And because I want to confuse you totally before you get to the good stuff.

My husband and I spent a couple of years (a lot of years ago) doing infertility treatments. We made the choice to continue on child-free, at least for the time being. Yet, there was some part of both of us that won't let go of that hope that someday, somehow, someway we will have that child that we both so want.

So as our pastor was discussing how they were rebuilding and how they were doing it together, and next to, and beside each other, and how all of these people were doing what they needed to do to get the job done, he said something that I just couldn't stop hearing over and over in my head.

And I'm not really sure if he actually said it, or if it was just how I took it. Maybe both. Because I seriously didn't know how my husband would feel about me scrambling to write down exactly how it came across, which by the way honey, no more not doing that, I'll regret it later. Especially since the frenzy would be so I could write a post for you to read.

Pastor B said something about trusting that they were doing what they were always meant to do. That they were following God's plan. That they were trusting God's plan, and that in the middle of the horrible, unbelievable, most horrific moment, God was right there.

It's so easy to tell someone else that, but it's much harder, especially for a control freak like myself, to believe it. I've given lots of situations over to God. I've given him my grandfather's life, I've given him my husband's, my marriage, I've handed over job loss and the unknown when there is no income coming in, I've even given him parts of my life. Not all of it, just parts of it. Because there's this one area that I just can't seem to let go of. I want to, but just about the time that I reach out to hand it over, my heart wants to cling to it.

Yet yesterday morning, sitting in that chair, in that freezing worship center, I heard God tell me to be patient. To have faith. To let it go. Trust. I've got some fabulous plans, ones that even you won't argue with.

Yep, apparently God is sarcastic. He knows what gets my attention.

It's not the first time, I've heard those words either.

Obviously you can see a pattern here too. And here. And here.

I still haven't obeyed. I still haven't managed to let her go.

Yes, I said her.

I've never doubted that I would have a little girl. There is nothing wrong with little boys, and the more time I spend with a certain 4 year old, I'd take one of them too. But I always known that there would be a little girl in there too. No matter what, I would have a girl. I've seen her face, I've dreamed about her. I've smelled her. I've held her. No, not in my arms, but I've dreamed about her for so long, that she's as real to me as my nieces and nephews. She's beautiful, she's perfect, she's everything that I always imagined she would be, but that's made her so much harder to give up. That's what's made it so much harder to walk away from.

Saturday I thought that my dogs might not live to see another day. Every behavioral issue with them was magnified about a bajillion times. They whined, they barked, they escaped, they got in the trash, they got mud in my car because they felt the need to escape. Everything that they did that annoyed me, they did it twice, and way worse than usual. So I lost my patience, I might have grabbed one, and held their sweet little face in my hands and told them that if they didn't quit, I would send them to the other side of town to the burrito place with questionable ingredients. I think they knew I was serious, because they backed off. Yet, if it had came down to it, I couldn't have walked up to some random stranger and given them away. I'm not sure I could even hand them over to my parents.

Insert smoke, and the Jeopardy theme song. You know, while the wheels are turning.

No, I wouldn't want to do it, but yeah, I could.

Well, crap. This wasn't the direction that this was supposed to be going.

Maybe that's why this issue keeps coming up. Because I refuse to have faith that God has my best interests at heart. I've seen to many close calls that should have ended differently to not believe that God is way more brilliant and has a better plan in mind. I keep going back to January when John lost his job. I love his job now, and if I had pushed him to take the job that he was offered making $9 an hour, we would be barely getting by. I'd be so stressed and so worried about how we were going to pay this bills while I went to school and only got a part time paycheck instead of a full time paycheck. But because I trusted John that this company was going to offer him the job. I believed that God would take care of us. I took a big leap of faith. Big. And 6 months later, we are fine. Because I let go.

Too bad there isn't a class that teaches letting go. Of course, I'd probably fail it. Several times.

Letting go is hard for me. I analyze everything. Every.thing. And then, I try and predict how each possible outcome will actually work out, so that I can try and predict the future. I try to manipulate everything to what I could have said different or done different or...anything different. I know that until I learn to let it go, it's going to do nothing but cause me undue heartache and headaches. It's going to be an area of my life that I second guess, and that will continue to break my heart.

"Some people think it's holding on that makes you strong. Sometimes it's letting go." ~Sylvia Robinson

"When God takes something from your grasp, He's not punishing you, but merely opening your hands to receive something better." ~Author Unknown

Lost........and Not Yet Found

Part of me wants to find it hard to believe that it's been so long since I visited this space. The other part of me knows that it's been a lifetime.

I'd love to tell you that it's been because school is kicking my butt and taking my name. I'd love to tell you that I've won the lottery and I'm out spending my riches. I'd love to tell you that there was a way to justify my absence.

But there's not.

What I'm about to write is very hard. I'm about to admit things that I haven't admitted to my husband (Hi honey!), I haven't even admitted most of them to myself. Since this is the one place I've always been able to pour out my heart, I figured that maybe I'd find my answers by pouring it all out.

To say that there haven't been moments in the last few years where life has knocked me down would be an understatement. It seems that the older I get the more "goodbyes" there are in my life. It's never easy, but when it's people who mattered, who meant something to me, who made a difference in my life, it's even harder. Last December, I lost a good friend and following the 3 month battle with doctors about my gallbladder issues, I was worn out. The semester ended, and with my first F ever under my belt, I dreaded school in January.

I still was feeling pretty worn out and generally down in the dumps over the loss of Andrea, and apparently my lost motivation for school when the current semester commenced in late January. And that "life is kicking my butt" mentality has brought me here. There are so many things that have made me unhappy lately. School, work, my parents, my in-laws, and I could keep going, but I won't.

I'm quite sure that I hit rock bottom the end of February. I wanted to quit school (I still do, but more later), I wanted to quit my job (I still do), and I wanted to beg my husband to move, or I wanted to move without him. I just wanted my sanity back. My life back. Preferably on my terms.

Then, my sister in law got pregnant.

Apparently I should have been more specific about my terms.

And that was the night I fell apart.

John went to bed, and I peeked in our room to make sure he was asleep, and then I proceeded to sit in the living room, curled up in a chair and sob. I knew that she and her husband weren't taking preventative measures, and I knew that it would break my heart. I just didn't realize how much. That was the first night in a long, long time that my prayers were dark. I prayed and hoped for things to be different when I woke up the next morning. As tears silently ran down my cheeks, I prayed and I begged and I pleaded to wake up to the life I had always wanted, instead of the one I had.

I probably should have gone to the doctor - and trust me, I intend to mention everything when I go next month. As I'm quite sure the words "clinical depression" belong on my chart somewhere. I went to the store the next day, and stocked up on vitamins and I've spent the last month trying not to go back to those dark thoughts. I've spent the last month trying to be found.

Then, yesterday, a trip to the bank, led me to walk upstairs and see an old friend. One whom I worked with on my first job and adored. She asked me, "Are you looking for a job?" "We're looking for a full time person, and with your experience, you'd be perfect."

I'm quite sure I bombed an exam not an hour earlier, and school being in the dog house with me at the moment made me wonder if I shouldn't give up. If it just wasn't meant to be. If this isn't God just showing me my options since I'm miserable.

I'm quite sure that these are the roads that Robert Frost talked about. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both..." I thought maybe I could cut my hours to part-time at school and just finish my degree at night and take the job. So with more hope than I'd felt in weeks, I got to work and quickly scoured the schedules for the summer and fall, to see which classes would be offered after 5pm so that I could attempt to do both.

Summer 1 - Nothing.

Summer 11 - 6pm - 8:30 Monday through Thursday. Perfect.

Fall 2013 - My heart sank as I scrolled through each class I was planning on taking. The lightness in my heart, that I hadn't had in months, completely disappeared as I saw scrolled to the bottom of the page, hoping for one class after 5pm. Nothing.

So I posted on Facebook about why did life have to be so complicated? Which road did I pick? Which road would get me what I wanted? One has me giving up on a dream and the other makes me happy now. Which would be the best choice? What will make me happy now and later? What do I give up?  A job that I was once good at and that I loved? Or the dream job I want to have and what I do now, which I also love? There's no easy answer, and no matter what road I choose, I have to give up something.

With the dark place that my head and my heart have been for the last few months, it's hard to make a choice. It's hard to know what to do, other than pick the choice that will completely change my life. Then an innocent text from my mother in law last night asking if I was quitting school, and a short explanation of the situation gave me "I hope everything works out for you." My heart sank. Again.

Can't she offer advice? Or to pray? Or something, other than a remark that made me think "what a bitch witch". With where my head and heart have been the last few months, that just made this weight on my shoulders so much worse. So much harder. So today, I've prayed. And I've tried not to let my head over-ride my heart and vice versa. Because they aren't exactly on the same page, I'm not even sure that they are in the same book.

"Two roads diverged into a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

I hope the road I'm leaning towards, and I'm gazing down and I'm hoping for that happy ending is the right road. I'm hoping that I can walk down it and find the happy girl inside of me once again.

I hope that my heart and my soul can take whatever scary things and big boulders that are on that road. I hope that I'm found.

A Life Wasted

It's hard to believe that it's been a year. Granted last year wasn't all that super fantastic, but it's still hard to believe that my ex-brother in law has spent the last year in jail awaiting trial for sexually abusing my niece.

Last week he was found guilty and sentenced to 55 years in prison and a $7000 fine.

Instead of the relief that I thought I would feel, I find myself sad. Granted, I'm thankful that he isn't going to get away with the abuse to my niece and nephew, but I'm sad nonetheless.

Scott was a smart guy. And when he wasn't trying to prove how much better he was than anyone else, he was actually a nice guy. Once he and my sister split up, they both had a huge personality change and I wasn't complaining about either change. He opened up and he felt less compelled to make everything a "I know more than you do" conversation. I had a few decent conversations with him that didn't end with me wanting to beat him with whatever object was nearby and easily assessable.

I don't like being told that I don't know what I'm talking about when I do. If I don't know that's one thing, but when I actually grew up on a farm and raised cows, don't tell me that city boy knows more than I do. Not if you value your life.

Anyway. When we found out that Scott had been arrested and that there was proof he was sexually abusing my niece, I was just so....shocked. I trusted that man. I agreed that he should have custody of the kids the bulk of the time. I felt like I had let my niece and nephew down, by supporting him in his endeavor to get the majority of custody with the kids. I was disappointed that he had fooled us all so, so well. I couldn't believe that we didn't see him for the person that he truly was.

Yet, after a year of waiting, hoping, and praying that he wouldn't get away with the abuse. After a year of conversations with my niece, after a year of conversations with my nephew and knowing that he sent that innocent little boy to bed hungry, simply because he didn't want to give him more than 5 minutes to eat, I'm still sad.

The anger quickly wore off, and the only question I wanted answered was "What were you thinking?"

While I am relieved that the trial is over, and that maybe now, knowing that Scott was going to federal prison and wouldn't be able to "find her" that my niece might have a night where she didn't wake up in fear if she heard a car door outside her window. No child should have to live in fear of a parent. Ever.

 I'm sad at a life that was wasted. Scott had the opportunity to be so much more, to do so much more. Yet, he'll be 93 when he gets out of prison (assuming he serves all 55 years). He will have spent more of his life behind bars than he would a free man. If he manages to get out before then, he'll have to register as a sex offender. He won't be able to go back to his job as a certified nurse's aid. He will have wasted his life over one bad decision. One bad choice. One mistake, that the moment he made it, there was no turning back. I wonder if he knew that. I wonder if he realized what his life would become when he was caught.

Every choice that you make has some type of consequence. Good or bad. Talk about a wake up call.

I went to the gym this morning. The brownie I ate this afternoon pretty much undid all the sweating I did this morning. Sure, the brownie saved me from killing a co-worker, but it had consequences to my overall goal of losing some weight. I guess the one thing I can say about this whole ordeal has been that I've thought more about the choices that I've made. Every bite of that brownie just reminded me of all that sweating I was deleting. I've thought more about how that decision, how that choice will change my life. Sure, in the grand scheme of things that brownie won't make much difference. Unless I have one every single day, and then it will have a greater impact.

My point with all of this, his life could have been so different. All it took was one choice, that shouldn't have ever been an option, to change his life forever.

So, what are you going to do now?

Andrea

I've wanted to write this post for weeks now. Yet, I just couldn't seem to find the words. And even after I found the words, it would be 2 more weeks before you would actually get to read it. Simply because I wasn't ready.

When John and I got married in 1999, I acquired his family, and I acquired Andrea and her family as well. Andrea was the daughter of John's father's best friend. They've been friends since junior high, so Andrea and her big brother Joe, literally grew up with John. He's known them since he was born. John's dad has now been friends with this guy for more than half his life.

A couple of years ago, thanks to all the drama that we have been through with my inlaws, my sister-in-law Jean, was at the library where Andrea worked complaining about me. You know, how I was evil and should be destroyed. Andrea made a comment about how she didn't believe it was true, Jean said that Andrea didn't know me, and Andrea quickly resolved to rectify that situation.

A beautiful and glorious friendship began. We were privileged enough to spend the next couple of years getting to know Andrea, her husband and her precious kidlets. We were blessed enough to spend the last year doing what we could to keep Andrea's spirits up and make the bad days less sucky. And even though to an outsider it would look like we were doing all the work, our lives were certainly enriched by the care packages we delivered and the time we spent with Andrea and her family. See, at 33 she was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in January of 2012.

Andrea and I joked that we were separated at birth. Where I as strong, she was weak and vice versa. I'm quite sure she was the sane, rational part of my brain, she would probably agree.

Andrea and I managed to build a friendship unlike one I've ever had before. She's the only person who I couldn't put on my "happy face" for. Because we were so much alike, we both knew that the other was just telling us what we wanted to hear. Thankfully neither of us was afraid of calling the other a liar and getting to the bottom of whatever the current trouble was. We both walked away feeling better about whatever situation we were facing. Our relationship forced me to be utterly honest with her about the struggles with infertility, with my inlaws, with my own family, and she could help me find peace about the situation, or any situation really. Of course, I could provide perspective about moments in her life too. Like the night she cried when she missed her kid's Halloween plans because she couldn't be exposed to that many germs because of her weakened immune system due to the chemo treatments. She was busy getting better, better that her kids missed her for one night instead of a lifetime. Of course, I had no way of predicting the future, but my reassurance that she wasn't a bad mother was enough to provide her some peace and ease the guilt.

She taught me how to worry less and let life happen more. There wasn't much that chips and hot sauce wouldn't fix, or at least soothe. She taught me that I'm stronger than I think, and that it's okay to slow down, to say no, and to not make an offer I didn't want to hold up in the first place. She taught me to to hand over more of life's little inconveniences to God, like job loss, sucky exam grades, and burnt biscuits. She taught me that there was nothing better than texting about our husband's when they went off to the lease for the weekend. We probably saved each other years of therapy and marriage counseling.

Andrea had the ability to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room when you were around. She was tons of fun, and thanks to her and relationships that she had cultivated with other people, I've gained a few new friends that I'd like to get to know better. They certainly can't replace the relationship that I had with Andrea, but they can certainly add to my life and they already have. Andrea had the ability to put things in perspective, even if it wasn't a situation that she fully understood. She also had an amazing capacity for forgiveness and she truly understood and practiced the "turn the other cheek" concept.

From the moment of her diagnosis of Stage IV colon cancer, to the emergency surgery which removed her colon, ovary and appendix, she never believed that the whole situation wasn't trucking along exactly like it was supposed to be. She might not have always liked the results or the outcome, but she fully believed in "rolling with the punches and giving it to God". And she did. She showed amazing strength and a fighting spirit when most people would have caved under the disappointment of another setback.

There were moments of laughter and moments of tears. There were moments that I would have gladly traded places with her, and moments she probably wouldn't have given up even if it meant a different outcome. Even though I can't send her a text message or find her sitting in her chair at her home, she's still here. I hear her voice every time John irritates me about something, her offer of "Do I need to take care of him?". I hear her voice every time I've had a moment of self loathing over school. "Girl, I did the 13 year plan, it's not a race." I hear her every time I see her kids. She's in her daughter's laughter and joy over a Christmas gift. She's in her son's fearlessness. She's in her husband's stubbornness. She's in every yellow or purple butterfly I see. She's in the purple shirts I own, simply because it was her favorite color. She's in the moments of doubt, I can hear her telling me to not worry so much that it will all work out in the end. And you know what, she's right.

I can hear her voice telling me how much she loves "you guys". I can even hear her now as I type this, saying "sheesh" that she doesn't deserve all the hoopla. She'd even be slightly annoyed that this post is literally, all about her. Yet, this is probably one of the few places she is wrong. Her friendship literally changed my life.

I'm pretty sure what I posted on Facebook on December 4th sums it all up

"I've thought all day about what I wanted to say to you on this space. As I picked out my purple shirt today and the bracelet with the yellow and purple butterflies. I've thought about the text messages, the phone calls, the date nights, the Christmas shopping expedition of 2011. I've thought about your infectious laughter, your "hey guys!" greeting, and your sweet smile. I've thought about the strength you've shown through the treatments, doctor's appointments, and the overwhelming pain. Yet tonight, as I hugged your husband, and I told him that he was stuck with me, I heard your laughter and your voice telling me to give him grief. Thank you for all the text messages, the phone calls, the emails, the friendship, and the love. You had such a huge impact on my life, in ways that I probably won't even realize for quite some time. Thank you for changing my life, and for letting me be a part of yours. Hold that tiny baby that was gone from my world too soon, and save me a seat, we will have lots to catch up on. I love you."

 

Today I'm thankful that I didn't really lose her. Sure, I can't sent her a text message or laugh about something her husband children did, but she's still here. I'm thankful that I'll see her again, and that she's no longer suffering from the pain and misery of cancer, but also from life's disappointments. I'm thankful, that because of her faith and choices that she has made I'll see her again. When the moments of grief and missing her seem to overwhelm me, I can just close my eyes and see her beautiful smile, and I know instant comfort and peace because she's exactly where she would want to be.

2012

This year has been....a year.

I've joked with John all year long that the catastrophic events of this year were all his fault. He was the one who said that 2011 was the year that all years would be compared against as far as the level of suck was concerned. John lost both of his grandfathers that year, and we had a huge falling out with his brother, sister, parents, and remaining grandmother. He was quite sure it couldn't get worse. However, before February was even over with, God decided to take his challenge and make sure that those were not words that John will ever utter again, especially if he wanted to live and do well with me.

January:
John lost his job. We found out that my niece and possibly my nephew were being sexually abused by their father. He was arrested. My sister-from-another-mother and good friend Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer.

February:
Andrea went to Houston because her colon was so messed up none of the local doctors would even touch her or begin treatments of the cancer. John's cousin's wife committed suicide.

March:
Andrea was still in Houston. My dad was hospitalized for what we thought was pneumonia. He ended up having both strains of the flu as well as pneumonia. He was so deprived of oxygen and sick that he ended up being put on a ventilator for 4 days. They were concerned  that because of the lack of oxygen because of how sick he was that he might have suffered brain damage. Fortunately, his brain was only as damaged as it was before all of this.

April:
One year since Grandpa passed away. One year since all of the fallout with the family began.

May:
Finals. Need I say more.

June:
Summer school - thankfully this month wasn't so bad, and we were thinking that the year was looking up.

July:
Just trucked along

August:
School. Hate most of my professors. Liked the classes. Hated the professors. Arg.

September:
Andrea's colon ruptures. She spent a week on a ventilator. Worried that she might not make it out of the hospital. But thankfully she rallied, and went home. She spent almost the entire month in the hospital. Her husband suckers my husband into going to the lease. Thankfully no dead animal adorns my walls..yet. I discover that something isn't right with my innards. Go to ER the day after my 33rd birthday. Told to go home and take the narcotic pain meds. Tried that, but didn't remember going to school and a variety of other things, so just took thousands of ibuprofen trying to survive the worst of it.

October:
Felt so bad that I don't remember anything, other than trying to make it to class and to work. Pretty much quit cooking and cleaning completely. Basically didn't study much either. Just felt so, so bad.

November:
Finally got the referral to the specialist. Had actual surgery to remove very, very sick gallbladder the week before Thanksgiving. Felt some relief for the first time in months. Then the joys of a body adjusting to no gallbladder.

December:
Finals. Failed my first class. Probably because I shouldn't take a final the same day that I had to say goodbye to my sister-from-another-mother. December 6th, Andrea went home. There's a post in there somewhere about her. But I just can't write it yet. I barely could type those words without breaking down into tears. Stressed about followup with gastro, because the pain was back. Thankfully gastro thinks it's just my body adjusting.


Sure, there have been some high points, and some of the issues, like John losing his job, actually have turned out to be a blessing. And well, some of them, like losing Andrea just suck. So while most of this year was events that I could have done without, like the gallbladder epidemic, I don't know that I would change any of it. Even Andrea. As much as that breaks my heart to say, I think that her being a part of my life served a purpose, and I think that losing her will serve a purpose too. Even though I'm not sure what it could possibly be at this point. She did teach me a great amount about forgiveness, faith and believing in myself. But that's another post entirely.

So, my request for 2013 - Lord, give me the strength to make it through whatever it is that you throw at us this year. Help me to have more patience during those moments of insanity and suck, and help us find peace, not matter what the situation. And if you could help out with my GPA, I'd be eternally grateful.

It's not just for Scrappers

In honor of Black Friday, and all the crazy people that will be Christmas shopping in the middle of the night on Friday, I've got a fantastic deal for you.

This deal, let's you stay home in your fuzzy slippers, and not fight the crowds for the most amazing deals on Christmas presents.

In fact this deal let's you make your own presents. You can be frugal and fantastic all at the same time.

I'll admit, I'm not a scrapbook fan. Not at all. I don't see what they hype is. I got a scrapbook that came with papers and everything that you need to make it like 6 years ago. It's still in the package.

But. I'm in love with this software by My Memories. See, since I own my own Mary Kay and Scentsy businesses, I can create these totally awesome fliers.

Or, let's assume that I could actually put together a scrap book. Or even if I didn't want to go that route, how about a Christmas Card.

Add caption

You can do so much more with this software than just scrapbooks. Want to make a fancy picture calendar? Done. Want to make a cool family reunion slide show complete with music? Done. There are tons of embellishments, you can even design your own pages, change the layouts, whatever you want to do.

Plus, as something that I like, especially considering that I'm primarily using this software to create fliers and stuff for Mary Kay and Scentsy, I love that it's got more options than I know what to do with. It's a little overwhelming at first, but by the time I made these two pages, I had learned my way around.

So, because I love you, and because you guys need something easy and fun to better capture the upcoming holidays, I'm giving away your very own. Very FREE version of the My Memories software.

Here's what you can do to enter.
1. Comment on the blog with a) what you will use the software for AND b) the name of one of your favorite kits available at My Memories website.
2. You can also tag me on twitter, and spread the joy there by tweeting about the giveaway.

You may enter one comment per person and you may tweet as well, so each person can be entered into the drawing twice!

The giveaway will close at 11:59pm central time on Sunday. The winner will be announced on Monday, and you will have 1 week to contact me to redeem your code for your free download!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who will be celebrating tomorrow! And good luck!

Gertie Goes to Heaven

Today is another sad day around here. Gertie went to the pathologist on Monday.

Yep, you read that right. The gallbladder was evicted on Monday.

I feel fantastic. That pain in my side that I've lived with every waking moment since September. Finally gone. Gertie was a sick little puppy. Highly irritated and inflamed, and I would imagine a few more months and the words ruptured would have been included in the picture. It was bad folks.

Thankfully, the right doctor gets the job done. Now, I'm working on getting back up and running. Here's the rundown.

Saturday I had an appointment with the gastro that I had been referred too. I was thankful that my appointment had been moved up, and that this doctor does random Saturday clinics, so that I could get in earlier. So we sat in the waiting room, I studied for a business law test, and Brad played on my Kindle. We got back to the room, and started going over everything with the doctor. He mashes around on my belly, tells me he's quite sure it's the gallbladder, and that they can admit me. Huh?

I've spent 2 months with several different doctors and 5 minutes with this guy, and he's going to poke me in the hospital, do a scope because I'd been taking unbelievable amounts of Advil so that I could function through the pain. He was concerned that I might have an ulcer on top of everything else. Thankfully my stomach was fine. So they make arrangements to get me on a list to get my gallbladder out on Monday.

They came in late Saturday night to get some blood for lab work, and couldn't find a vein. I'm not typically a hard person to get blood from, but after 2 months of not eating right, not drinking enough, I was severely dehydrated. I had thought I was bad, simply because of the headaches I was getting, but I couldn't get any other doctor's to voice the same concerns that I had.

Sunday I laid in a bed, and tried to take naps, mostly because they had kept waking me up every 90 minutes the prior night. So Monday morning at 5am they came in to get me to take a shower, and put on a beautiful hospital gown. I'd been wearing my own pj's, because let's face it, those hospital gowns only cover part of the parts, and I prefer all my parts to be covered. We were on the list for about 1:30 surgery time.

John's sweet cousin came about 8 and sat with us until they wheeled me to the OR, and then sat with Brad while I was in surgery. Her presence probably kept some of my nerves at bay, because when they came to get me, I wasn't nervous, just a slight surreal feeling. I think part of me still believed that I'd wake up and be in pain, and nothing would have changed.

Now, here's where it gets dicey. They gave me something to help me relax, and then John kissed me, and told me he loved me, then they wheeled me to the OR. I remember getting in, and climbing on a table, and not much after that. Which is disappointing, I'd have liked to have looked around and checked things out, but I was unconscious before I had a chance to do much.

The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery with some serious pain, which they gave me a shot of the good drugs for. Then my mouth and throat were so dry from the tube that I asked for some ice chips. They pretty much gave me ice, and then sometime later, they told me they were moving me back to my room. I remember John, and his cousin standing their, and I remember seeing my father-in-law and sister-in-law standing outside my room. Then I remember them letting me pee, because they were pushing some serious fluids. They got me in bed, then started checking my vitals, and I suddenly remember having the urge to throw up, and I did, twice. But they said that with all my innards confused by the lack of the gallbladder, that it wasn't surprising, and it wasn't much. I felt really groggy, sore, and like most of Monday is a blur.

They let me come home Tuesday morning, around 11, and part of Tuesday is still foggy. I remember coming home. I remember spilling a glass of water in the floor, and I remember eating dinner. But not much in between.

Yesterday was better, and today was even better. The soreness is starting to get more bearable, I've cut way, way back on the pain med's, and when I woke up this morning I felt good. I felt good for the first time in almost 2.5 months. No nausea, no pain, no headaches. Just like I'd had a good night's sleep.

Of course, after a couple of hours up and moving around, that all changed. I'm still worn out. I know that it will take me some time to build my strength back up, and that even though I only have a few incisions, that this was a major surgery and ordeal for my body to get over. Especially since it had been going on for so long. I know that the next few weeks and months are going to be rough until I rebuild some of my strength. But I'm just so thankful to be feeling better that I'll take the need for lots of naps. I think I've slept more today than I've been awake.

Right now, I'm just thankful to not feel Gertie stabbing me constantly. So, I won't complain about the naps, and the 2 week vacation from school, and the limited activities after that. I'll be thankful that Gertie won't be around at Christmas and that I won't have to create a DIY website for organ removal, because let's face it, another few months, and I'd have volunteered for the test dummy.

When Words Are Not Enough

I wish I could tell you how many times in the last few months I've picked up my cell phone to send a text message to my friend Andrea.

Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer earlier this year, and amazingly so, our friendship has grown to new depths because of some odd conversations that we've had along the way. Conversations about our spouses, mutual friends, and several oddities that we have discovered we share. Apparently there are other people in the world who won't drink milk after it has been contaminated by cereal.

A couple of months ago, Andrea faced a ruptured colon, several days in ICU, several more surgeries, and more complications. She's had to make choices regarding her quality of life that I can't even begin to fathom, and what's worse, she has to live with those choices. Which is usually harder than making the stupid decision. Especially if your me, and over analyze, over think, and worry about the how's and the what if's and the unfairness of it all.

Yet, in the last few months, thanks to her illness and lack of desire to deal with people, and my subsequent health issues, college kicking my butt, and my own crazies (that have absolutely nothing to do with her situation, just me being paranoid that I've said or done something wrong), have caused our friendship to be less...involved.

Which I don't like. But at the same time, I understand. She faces choices and fights on a daily basis that I hope I don't ever have to face. She's got 2 babies that she's trying to raise, well 3 if you count her husband. She's got other people showing up at her door, showering her with love and strength to help her find the will to keep fighting and to keep moving forward on the days that she just doesn't want to get out of bed. She needs that. Her family needs that.

I miss those text messages with Andrea, and I find myself picking up the phone, and staring at a blinking cursor, because me, the girl who always has something to say, even it's wrong, can't find the words. I can't seem to tell her that I've missed our double dates. I've missed being able to text her when I've had a particularly sucky day, or a funny moment that I just wanted to share with someone who's first language is also sarcasm. I've missed her. I've missed her sweet kids, and thanks to my husband being on a hunting lease with her husband, I don't really miss him, near as much, anyway.

Yet, I find myself terrified of saying the wrong thing. Even though, I'm quite sure, that we've been on the same brain wave a lot lately. Be sick and in constant pain for 2 months, you'd be amazed at the things you think about.

As school keeps going and the pressure keeps building, and I keep adding stuff to my to do list, I keep realizing how truly important those things that we often abuse, and take for granted really our. Like our health, our spouses, our children, our friends. You don't realize what a vital part of your existence they are, until their existence is threatened.

As my doctor's appointment approaches on Saturday, the fear of the worst wants to kick in. What if it's not something easy like a weird food allergy? What if it's something that I'm not prepared for? What if I have to quit fighting for good grades, and fight for my life instead? What if.....

It's mind numbing, and I find those 'what-if's' sneaking in during the quite moments of my day. I keep trying to tell her to shut up. I keep hoping that it's something simple. I hope that it's easy. I hope that it doesn't screw up my life too much. Then, I think about Andrea. She had all those hopes too. She had all those dreams too. Sure, her's might not have involved college, being a world renowned chef, having a cooking blog that makes me rich and famous, losing a million pounds, and being a Victoria's Secret model at 40, but she had them. As I've sat in class rooms this week, and looked around, it's hard to imagine giving up on that. It's hard to imagine any of it. Cancer and serious illness were supposed to be things we had to deal with when we got old. They were supposed to happen to other people, to other families. Not to us. Not to 30 years old. Not to 18 year olds. And certainly not to an innocent child.

Unfortunately, life doesn't always work the way that we plan. God's plan unfolds in there, and we are supposed to make the best of it. We are supposed to find the blessing. We are supposed to be the light to someone else's darkness. We aren't supposed to be the darkness, searching for a light.

I can only hope. I can only have faith. I can only hope that this is where my plans and God's plans are the same, or at least in the general vicinity of each other. I know this, the last few years, I've had a hard time coming up with something other than the usual "family, friends" thankful list. This year, I've discovered that I don't have to do a countdown to Thanksgiving on Facebook with the rest of my friends and family about what they are thankful for, simply because I've spent the last 2 months, finding it.

~She is clothed with strength and dignity; and she laughs at the days to come. Proverbs 31:25

~Would you dare, would you dare to believe, that you still have a reason to sing? 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling, it can't compare to the joy that's coming. So hold on, you gotta wait for the light, press on and just fight the good fight. 'Cause the pain that you've been feeling, it's just the dark, before the morning. -Josh Wilson's Before the Morning

....In sickness and in health

Well, it's true. I've spent the past month testing out those vows.

About 2 weeks before my birthday (roughly the first of September), I had a few days where I just didn't feel that great. But, school had just started back up, and there was lots of pressure being put on me for this semester, and I just blew it off as stress.

Fast forward to the Wednesday before my birthday. Enter nausea and general feelings of ickiness. Really?!? I'm going to be sick on my birthday. Seriously? So, I just tried not to hurl. Then Sunday. Oh Sunday. Sunday, September 23rd, will go down in history as the first day, that I would have gladly let someone perform weird science experiments on me to quickly end the pain.

Fast forward to the afternoon trip to the ER. They "thought" (you'll understand the quotes by the end) it was my gallbladder. Sent me off to do a CT scan, but I refused pain meds, because let's face it I had two tests I was trying to study for. I didn't have time for narcotics. So, CT scan showed my gallbladder to be okay. Well, at least non-life threatening. So, they gave me some drugs for nausea and pain and sent me home to study.

Spent the week thinking that I was going to die. Luckily I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday. The "doctor" (you'll understand these quotes later too), and I'll use that term here loosely, said that some of my symptoms didn't match, but the pain was consistent with gallbladder, so "against her better judgment" she would send me for an ultrasound, because she would hate to be wrong. So on Friday, I had an ultrasound done to check the gallbladder out. According to the results, there were no stones, but the pain was also better than it had been earlier in the week. So, the "doctor" informs me to just enjoy the weight loss, and that not to be worried that I can't eat, can't drink, and have fairly decent pain, and she would see me again in a few weeks. Hopefully it would work itself out. Nice.

So, after the big time brush off, and after being told repeatedly, that "it was all in my head". I began to believe it. I figured, okay, maybe it's nothing. Maybe the older I get, the lower my pain tolerance has gotten. Maybe it's just a muscle being spazzy. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So I gave up. I thought that everything would eventually (probably about the same time I graduated) work itself out.

Then, about 2.5 weeks ago, I had a day of pain, nausea and it was a general day full of suck. So, I found a new doctor, hoping that this one would show some concern and not take the "wait and see" approach. So, I went. She thought, gallbladder. So she sent me for a HIDA scan. Which, was the longest 2.5 hours of my life. Take a nap, they tell me. Sure, because I've always wanted to take a nap, laying on a 2x4 with a pillow that makes paper look fluffy, in a room that apparently doubles as a meat locker on the weekends. Sure. I'll get right on that. I can't lay on my back because of the pain, so that was just a great, relaxing moment where I wanted to take a nap. Right.

So, my gallbladder, whom I have named Gertie played nice. Even after I barfed on the technician because she told me I had to chug an 8oz can of Ensure. Have you had Ensure? It's the nectar of the devil. It's awful, it has a weird after taste, it smells, it's thick. (Burp) Sorry, apparently the memory of the stuff is enough to get my stomach rolling again. So, I drink. I lay down, I tell them I'm going to vomit. I was told to breathe. Well, after the techs catty responses that I would be fine, I hurled, all over her brand new Nike's. They were cute. Not so much after that. However, the next tech, thankfully believed me when I told her that I couldn't drink all of that and not hurl again. So consequently, she let me drink half. Gertie, smiled for the camera.

So that's where I am today. Still have pain. Still have nausea. Still have some other weird, and rather gross side effects that I will spare you from. You can thank me now.

I have an appointment with a gastro November 20th. Yep, I typed that right. It's the earliest that I can get into see the doctor I wanted, or any doctor in my network for that matter. So I wait. And I hope that I don't hurl on a customer, a professor, or a boss. That can't help my grade or my job.

There are tons of things that it could be, and I would love to try a gluten free diet, and no dairy and to stand on my head when the moon is in the 4th house of the rising dog's, mother's, brother's, cousin's, friends house. But, alas, I have homework to do. I'd say I have laundry and cleaning, but I can only manage a few minutes before the pain takes my breath away and I have to take a break. So to say that my grades, my house, and my desk are a disaster, is an understatement. I don't think that a nuclear blast would cause as much destruction as this - whatever this is, has caused.

Thankfully, I have had a husband, who has stepped up to the plate. He's done laundry, cleaned, cooked, wrapped presents, and taken care of me. I'm quite appreciative for, because let's face it, there have been days where, I've googled "at home organ removal" out of desperation for some relief from the symptoms, that are making me crazy.

Which I find ironic. The doctor's think I'm crazy and everything is all in my head, yet, the actual symptoms are making me crazy.

As much as I'm glad that John is an amazing guy, and that he loves me enough to put up with my whiny, sick self for the amount of time that he has. He's given me pretty flowers, and brought me lunch, and gone out of his way to make this experience less...sucky.

I know the posts are sporadic while school is sucking up all my time, but I don't even want to just click publish on some that I have already written, because my heart's not in anything that I do these days. I'm in survival mode. I'm trying to keep my head above water with school, which is hard to do when you don't want to study because you feel so horrible, or you actually do study, but can't remember what you just spent the last 2 hours reading because you just want the pain to stop. I had made some commitments to events and other things this semester for Scentsy and other things, that I just don't care if I do or not. There are days where getting out of bed is an accomplishment. Then again there are days when it's just the pain, and I can manage to kick some butt and take some names, but when every.single. thing that you eat or drink makes you wonder what you were thinking about when you decided you had to eat or drink because you just want to curl up in a ball in a corner and not move so you don't hurl on someone, it gets hard. It takes a beating on your brain, on your heart, and after 1.5 months of the same stuff, your soul. Thankfully, I've had a better understanding of a friends journey with a cancer diagnosis this year, and I have a new level of respect for her after all of this.

I'm hanging on. Some days with a good, solid grip, and other days, well, I'm quite sure that my whining motivates those around me to chop on the branch I'm hanging on to. I'm not patient, and I want answers yesterday, so for those that follow me on twitter, and on this blog, I just want to say thanks for the love, prayers, jokes, and funny comments that you have sent my way. I'm quite sure that you are part of the group that's keeping me sane. Hopefully, this is an easy fix, whatever it is. I'm trying to find the blessing in this whole thing, but when your grades suck, and you feel bad, and you would rather lay in bed than go shopping for new clothes in smaller sizes, it's hard to find the blessing in anything. Although, I'll admit the weight loss is a nice fringe benefit, I can kiss that lovely number I had seen on my scale for 5.8 months goodbye, but I'd have rather kept the pounds and felt good, than this.

So, when I whine on Twitter, Facebook, or this blog, I'd like to ask you to do me a favor. Tell me to quite my whining and do some freaking homework. I might think your a jerk, but my GPA will thank you.

Ode to Bob

It's been a hard few days at our house. Our beloved friend, Bob, has passed away. We are all so saddened by this loss, and during his brief eulogy there were many tears shed by all.

Let's now take a moment of silence in honor of Bob.

::Silence, in which there is the faint sound of angels singing and birds chirping::

Let me tell you a little about Bob.

He came into our lives purely by accident. See, John had decided that he wanted a fish in his office at work. So after a trip to SmartPets, he was the proud owner of a pretty Beta fish. After a few days, and John's enjoyment of the fish at work, he declared that I should have one at my office too. However, since I wasn't there as much as I had been, thanks to school, I didn't know that the little guy would survive. Besides, I thought it cruel to feed him on Friday, and let him starve until Monday. So John talked me into getting a fish for my office that would live at home. He would clean the tank, and feed him and love him and call him...George (name that cartoon!).

So George came home. Everyone was happy. Except the longer that George was with us, we realized that he was...special. And I'm not talking about having a super cool talent, or a neat trick, or that he could swim faster than the speed of a speed boat. No, George was...well, there's no easy way to say this. George, was a dork fish. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, not the brightest crayon in the box, a few fries short of a happy meal. I'm sure you get the idea.

George preferred to...well bottom feed. He liked to float around and watch his fishy dinner flakes float gracefully through the clear water, and land on the beautiful neon gravel at the bottom of his tank. Then later, when he was hungry, he would turn himself in a fish with an incredible amount of buoyancy, and...bob for food. So, it was apparent that George had been misnamed, and well, from that day forward, he became Bob.

You should have known this was coming.

Bob the Magnificent

 Amazingly so, Bob had been a part of our family for the better part of 2ish years.


We had Bob, sitting on this self for about 5 weeks, when the dog, finally discovered something was up there.

Friend or Snack?

Bob, like I mentioned before was...special. He was fondly referred to as a dork fish. Bob's not only speciality was bottom feeding, but Bob, had an imaginary friend. I was doing some laundry one day, and walked by Bob's tank, and as Beta's are prone to do, he was "fighting". Fighting is actually good for a Beta, because it helps to keep their colors bright and the fish in good health. So it's often a good idea to have 2, and place their tanks close together and allow them to fight for a few hours a week to keep them healthy. We would place a shiny pan or a mirror up so Bob would have this opportunity.

Love at first bite, err sight.

Well one afternoon, I was changing out the laundry, and Bob suddenly woke up from his mid-afternoon slumber and starting fighting with...nothing. The cabinet was empty, the dishes put away, and Bob was just going to town. About that time, John called, and I told him, as a joke that Bob, had an imaginary friend. Thanks to the question of what was his name (John should know that I can think on my feet) Stan, the imaginary friend, was born.

The first part of September (yes, I know I'm a month late), we came home to discover that some time between the time I went to bed the night before and that afternoon, Bob had taken his final swim. We knew that the time was coming, and frankly, because John had gone through 4 fish at work (2 of which I'm quite sure committed suicide because his office was so cold) that we knew that Bob wasn't going to be around forever, and frankly, we were surprised he had made it this long. Yet, amazingly so we were saddened by the loss of our finned friend.

I hadn't really planned on getting another fish, with school, work, homework, Scentsy, blogging, and trying to have a life that didn't revolve around school and homework, it wasn't a high priority. But John and I talked each other into it. So off to SmartPet's we went.

Meet...Stan.

Stan, the imaginary friend.

 



Yes, I'm aware that they make hospitals with padded walls for people just like me.

I think that we should rename him to Speedy Gonzales (name that cartoon!) because the fish never, ever stops moving. This was the best picture I got, because he wouldn't be still long enough for me to take it.

Faster than a speeding speed boat.

 

He's a pretty blueish greenish color. With a hint of purple. He's constantly moving, and he always fights. Me, a pan, air. Doesn't matter. I'll be surprised if he doesn't have a heart attack between now and Christmas. However, at first I was leery that Stan was his name. So I've patiently been waiting for his personality to come out, and I've discovered that Stan's name is actually very fitting. See, I had often though that the imaginary Stan often pissed off Bob. Bob would swim around in circles looking pissed off, like Stan had ran over, tapped him on the shoulder, woke him up from the best nap ever and ran off. Stan fits, because he is never still. He is always darting about in his small tank. I'm not sure he sleeps. Of course I don't stand by the take 24 hours a day, but surely at some point he does. Bob slept. I'm quite sure that Bob was a college student. He woke only to eat and when someone pissed him off. Usually me, flicking the tank with my fingernail wondering if he was dead. Or Stan. Apparently Stan was a rowdy 2 year old on a sugar high.

Goodbye Bob. I hope you enjoyed your beautiful sendoff. I hope that Le toilet and the sewage system processional was the exact type of sendoff you were hoping for.

 

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Shopping We Must Go!

Boy howdy, have I got some super, fantastic news for you!

Have you ever noticed how we, as women have specific wardrobes. I know that I have clothes for school, clothes for work, fancier clothes for work, workout clothes, church clothes, casual dressy clothes, clothes to get dirty in. And that doesn't include all of those categories for each season.

I've got blizzard, frigid, cold, cool, mild, warm, hot and 3 degrees cooler than hell clothes. Amazingly so, I don't have that many clothes. Although I do have a nice stash of clothes in my office that need to go to goodwill. I love losing weight and getting rid of clothes that are too big.

So today, because I love you, and because you totally need to prepare for the cooler days to come and maybe even start that Christmas shopping a few days earlier than last year.

Shabby Apple is running a fantastic promotion where starting today, through Friday September 14.

10% off site wide code: favorite10

 

 Yes folks, you read that right. 10% off, site wide. So anything you purchase is good for a discount.

 

 

 

So what are you waiting for? I'm certainly not waiting on you! Happy Shopping!

 

Cheap...or Brilliant?

A few weeks ago my husband and I were catching up on our huge list of DVRed tv shows. We both remember our parents watching the original show Dallas. Heck, John was even born right in the middle of an episode.

We figured, we would watch the new version when it came out on TNT so that we could see what all the fuss was about. There's just enough intrigue involved to keep me interested. Which takes a lot, considering the majority of the crap I watch on TV involves police, dead bodies, suspects, and jail cells.

So imagine my surprise when we were watching this particular moment and up pops this image on the screen.

Huh. That looks vaguely familiar. So I start yelling at John to "pause it". Apparently I'm yelling rather excitedly because he starts scrambling like I've just told him the world is going to end. So after he rewinds it, we pause, and low and behold.

See, this picture was taken on the table in my office at home.

And this picture from my office at work.

John and I both found it rather ironic, that Dallas, a television show that was as popular as it was back in the 80's would be so cheap in it's new venture to purchase a stereo from Walmart. Makes me want to record all the episodes again, and start looking for stuff from the dollar type stores.

They could have at least plugged it in so the message center was blue. They were so cheap that they bought there stereo from good ole Wally World, that they couldn't waste the electricity on that little blue area.

As I was typing this (I've had the pictures saved in a post for weeks), I realized that my grandfather used to watch westerns. Lots of John Wayne westerns. Lots. And I remember him pointing out trains in the background, and numbers that showed the cabins that they were using were actually part of some retreat or hotel. He was always so busy watching the scenery to point out these things that most people don't notice, that I wonder, if he actually knew all of what was going on in the movies. Or maybe, he had just seen them so many times, that he knew them by heart.

It's funny, the things that you miss. He would have had a good laugh about my $40 stereo being on TV.

Online Classrooms and Ashford University (Sponsored Post)

Education is a topic that's very near and dear to my heart. You know, since I'm currently enrolled and all. Even though I took the non-traditional approach and didn't go back to college until I was 30 years old, it's a choice that I haven't regretted for a single moment. (Although, I would kindly appreciate someone pointing this out to me in a few weeks, when I'm in what I like to refer to as "The Homework Slave System").

Going back to college has opened the door to a whole list of possibilities. Not only career wise, but personally wise too. I don't do well in front of large groups of people, and college definitely forces you to learn how to talk to other people, especially if your interested in making good grades and passing your classes.The whole experience has forced me to do things that are out of my comfort zone on a daily basis. I've found myself forced to think in ways that I wouldn't have done otherwise. College has opened me up to a type of innocence by young adults who haven't had to face infertility, crazy in-laws, job loss and the other learning experiences that come with age.

When I began pursuing my options for returning to school, part of my desire to return was to be able to graduate and find a job that I love, not just one that pays the bills. I want to be excited about going to work each and every single day, instead of spending 8 hours wishing I was somewhere else. An online education opportunity, just like Ashford University paved the way for me to have that chance.

What's unique about Ashford University is that they provide extensive options for adults, like myself to go back to college and get a degree while still having the time to work a full time job and raise a family. Let's face it, technology advances so much each and every year that universities that aren't offering classes online being left in the dust, and because Ashford offers a program that you work into your schedule instead of working around, they are giving adults the opportunity to get the education that they have always wanted, that they have always dreamed of.

Even if you aren't interested in going back to college, watch the brief video. If nothing else, it will inspire you to see how the future is changing for many adults, and even fresh out of high school people too. Life works out in strange ways, because college at 30 sure wasn't on my to-do list. I figured that college would always be something I would do 'one day', a pipe dream.  Yet today, that dream is very much a part of my reality.

I spent 18 months at another online university earning my Associates degree, and I loved the online experience, and frankly if Ashford had been around back then, I would have definitely chosen their program! It's truly a wonderful option for someone who wants flexibility and a full time job while going to school.

Online classrooms are the way of the future. The technology at Ashford University is moving towards the future by allowing adults to realize their dreams and finally have an option that allows them to follow through. Online classrooms gave me the confidence to continue my education and helped to ensure that I could be successful both inside the classroom and outside as well.

If you had the chance to do something that you knew you couldn't fail at, would you try it?

What are you waiting for?



Disclaimer: This post has been sponsored by Ashford University, but all thoughts and opinions are completely my own.

Deciding it's a Gift and not a Burden

Our pastor at church is in the midst of a unique series called "Servolution". It's about learning to, and giving us opportunities to serve others. Part of what started this whole thing is a lemonade stand that our church family will be running during the South Plains Fair.

This past weekend, Pastor B discussed how to find your spiritual gifts. My husband elbowed me several times during some of the options.

Yet, as I sat there, my mind wondered, about what my gifts were.

See, I always wanted to do something that made a difference. Apparently I should have been more specific, and I've definitely picked the wrong major if I wanted a career that made a difference. Although, I did pick my career based on something that I love to do, that I enjoy, which makes me excited to sit through millions of hours of classes each semester. Can crazy be a gift?

So as Pastor B talked, I wondered what I'm good at.

I'm a nurturer by nature. I like to do things for other people. My friend Andrea that was diagnosed with cancer this year can agree to that. I've shared the wealth more often than not, that she probably gets tired of the text messages involving care packages for dinner, breakfast, and dessert. Although, I totally love sharing. It's nice to make a cake, and have someone enjoy the other half of it, instead of the creatures that roam the dumpster in the dead of night. I'd rather not think about those creatures, because they have beady little eyes, full of evil, and long twitchy tails, and they are just roaming the streets looking for tasty morsels.

Fabulous, now I'm not going to want to let my dogs out when it's dark tonight. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I like to listen to people talk. Not necessarily joining in, but just listening and observing. You learn a lot about people that way. Another of my friends, wiggles her hands when she is discussing something she would rather not be talking about. She rubs on her fingernails, and constantly moves her fingers. My husband, avoids eye contact. He looks down when he would rather not have the conversation with you or even glancing away while talking to you. My mother-in-law likes to dictate the flow of conversation. She likes the subject to change when she has nothing else to say about it, not necessarily when the rest of the group is ready to move on. So it makes me observant, and when something interests me in the conversation, I add to it. Or manage to say something that pisses someone off, depends on who's around and how much sarcasm I used. Super powers shouldn't get you in so much trouble, should they?

Back to Servolution. They were asking for volunteers, and frankly I miss church when we don't go. I never regret it. In fact, I have this amazing analogy that will probably have me skinned for making on my blog.

Church is like sex. Once I get there, I wonder why we don't go more often. Or why we don't have sex more often. Not while we are at church, but just in general. My husband goes to bed at 6pm. I have homework. You do the math. It's not easy to do either, but it's always worth it in the end.

 

Sorry John. Aunt D. My old youth minister's wife. Mom. Dad. Andrea.

 

 So volunteers. Well, they have this bible study at TTU on Thursday nights. So I thought, you know, maybe if I got to know some of the losers, underage hooligans, babies, youngins, fellow students, I might not feel like I'm all that much older than them. So because I had procrastinated, because let's face it, I'm not a people person. I don't like talking in front of crowds, or in front of small groups either. I don't like being put on the spot, even with people I know. So I hadn't emailed the guy in charge and told him that I would offer up my services. Just couldn't do it. So my husband drug me, by my hair, kicking and screaming to meet with the guy after church.

 

Here's how much I'm not a "people - person".

 

"Hi, I'm Abby Normal, and you don't know me, but I'm fantastic and you should."

 

Yep, totally said that. Still not sure why, but I was nervous, and I say goofy stuff. And that was just talking to him with no one but my husband as a witness. So I spewed out that I went back to school, blah blah blah, did he need help on Thursdays. All the while, praying he would say no. So apparently, the 30th, I'm serving pizza and bottles of water to college students, and trying not to vomit or say something goofy. It's going to be interesting to say the least. Will I regret doing it, probably not. But for the next 3 years, because that's probably how long it will take for me not to want to hurl before I walk in the door, I'll do it. Because, believe it or not, part of me would like to step out of my comfort zone.

 

The other part of me, well, she would like to find something that makes a difference. Not necessarily so that I can feel good about what I'm doing for someone else, but so that I can feel good about who I am again. Because somewhere along the way, I've lost that girl who wasn't afraid to take on the world. I've lost the girl who wanted her life to matter, not to someone else, but to myself. I'd like to find her, before I get older and have any regrets about what I could have done, if I'd only been less selfish, and less afraid of talking to strangers.

My mom should be so proud, apparently she nailed the "don't talk to strangers" lesson, since it still works on a 25, 29, 30, 32 year old.