Help, Thanks, Wow...

I just finished reading Anne Lamott's book, A Journal of My Son's First Son, co-written with her son Sam Lamott.  In this book, she writes from a new grandmother's perspective.  I picked this book up in the Phoenix airport as I was leaving Liam at the age of 3 weeks...it seemed so timely.  That was way back in April.  And I just finished it.  I've not been reading much lately.  I've certainly not been blogging much either. Help.

One thing I took away from Anne Lamotte's book is the 3 essential prayers:  Help, Thanks, Wow.  That's it. She's written a book called just that but I haven't read it yet (it's on my list, my ever growing list)...although she refers to it in this last book I just read.... God knows our needs, our blessings, our pain, our joys.  All we really need to do is send up a Help, Thanks, or Wow.  It just feels good to acknowledge it and is right to do so.  If you're not one to get down on your knees and say a lengthy prayer to God, this is all you really need to do.  He already knows...just send him up a Help, Thanks, or Wow.

Help me keep my mouth shut.  Help me have more patience.  Help.  Thanks for this day.  Thanks for this meal.  Thanks for keeping my mouth shut. Thanks. Wow, this baby is pure joy.  Wow we did it!  We got all 3 kids through college.  Wow... that sunset is glorious.  Wow.


This has definitely been a year of Help and Thanks but also Wow.

Photo courtesy of Casey

Liam is now 5 months old and he is rolling back and forth, babbling, grabbing toys, trying to hold his own bottle and almost sitting without falling over. Wow.

I've done a poor job of journaling about Liam on this blog.  In fact, this blog, if it could, would have cobwebs on it.  I've given a lot of thought about why I haven't blogged in awhile and all I can come up with is that I'm just living and staying in the moment.  And my mojo is off. Help.

This year has been full of ups and downs.  In January, while attending Jordan's baby shower, my mother passed away.  She had been bed-ridden and very ill for at least 3 years so it was not unexpected yet the timing was certainly a shock.  I was in Phoenix attending a joyous occasion.  The death of my mother had to be pushed down...way down...so I could experience this joyous occasion...this moment. Help.

Then came the joyous arrival of my first grandchild in March. Thanks. That day was all about getting on a plane as quickly as I could so I could make it to the hospital in Phoenix in time.  I was full of anticipation and anxiety...and attention deficit due to the endless games of Solitaire on the ipad while waiting to be called to board and missed my flight sitting at the wrong gate....because the gate number had been changed and I failed to read the black board indicating that small detail.  By the time I got to the hospital and saw Liam for the first time, I felt like that day had been a week! Wow.

Will graduated in May and by July 4th, we moved him out to Los Angeles.  Wow. Those weeks were filled with emptying the attic and cleaning out closets and getting him packed up.  Emptying the attic?  Yes. Will had about 6 weeks between graduating and moving so I put him to work for me.  I just had this urge to get everything out of the attic while I had the strong arms of Will around.  He brought down every single dust covered box and put them in the game room.  And the garage attic got emptied, too. The game room is now referred to as Junk Central. Next is the chore  to go through them and trash, save or sell the stuff.  (Beanie Babies anyone?) Help. The good news is that the attics are empty! Thanks.

Photo from Will's iPhone screen.

Help.

Sometime around June, Cameron introduced us to her new boyfriend who we're crazy about.  She is in a good place and of course, that makes a mama happy. Thanks.

Now it's August and I am heading back to Phoenix for a visit with Liam.  I actually get to babysit him for the weekend because his parents are going away for a much deserved weekend.  I am beyond excited about this. Thanks.  Wow.  Needless to say, we're spending a lot of our money on airfare these days.  That would be a "help" for Chuck.  But it's a "thanks for the wow" for me.

Like I said, this year as been full of ups....Liam's birth, Will graduating from college, getting the attic cleaned out (yes, that's an UP), Cameron being in a new and great relationship with a guy we're very fond of...Thanks...but also downs...my mother's passing, Will moving away so far away, being so far away from Liam.  Help.


One Wow that has caught me by surprise is the joy I have received watching Jordan become a mother.  I was prepared for the joy of a grandchild.  Many, if not most of my friends my age, are already grandmothers.  I have heard for years "you just wait, you will never believe how wonderful it is."  So Liam has certainly filled that prophecy. They were all right...I could not have imagined this kind of love. But watching my own child become a mother has been the icing on the cake. Wow.

Jordan was a very good baby, a smart little girl, made the perfect A's on her report card.  Never got in trouble in school until 10th grade when she back talked a teacher (that's genetics as it happened to me in 10th grade, too).  She gave us some back talk...okay, a lot of back talk as a teenager...but nothing compared to stories I've heard from others. Thanks. She got in to A&M and got out in 4 years.  Wow!  She headed to Phoenix for an internship knowing no one.  Wow!  Ended up in Arizona with a full time job and went on to find her husband who we love.  Thanks.  She has made us proud.  There has never been any doubt that she would succeed at anything she attempted.  Controlling, independence and stubbornness handed down by her parents may have helped in her endeavors.

Photo courtesy of Casey

I knew she would be a good mama one day, but she has surpassed my expectations.  She is so, so good with Liam.  I get as much joy watching her with him as I do watching him.  It's not that I thought she wouldn't be good at this, but I remember my insecurities with her, my first baby.  I still remember how scared I was the first day I was left alone with her ...after the husband and mother returned to their work and lives.   And tired?  So tired. I was a bit of a complainer in those early days. I just thought I would hear her complain more or be cranky because I certainly remember feeling that way. But she is a natural at it. She is crazy about him, never complains about being too tired (to us anyway...Chris may be rolling his eyes about now), is so organized, has him on a schedule, doesn't freak out when he's fussy, just loves, loves, loves on him.  She grins the biggest grin when she looks at him and it's reciprocated by Liam. He swivels his head completely around if she's behind him.  They can't get enough of each other.  She sends us pictures daily and calls or face times us almost every evening. It's made the distance between us and Liam much more bearable. Watching Jordan become a mother has been a huge joy that was unexpected.  Wow.  Thanks! 

I am riding the ups and downs by staying in the moment.  Just this moment. Now this one.

I've been sending up those Helps, Thanks and Wows.


Try it.  It's not good for my blogging but it sure is good for the soul.

Semi Underdressed

Last week was a whirlwind of evening affairs.  Chuck's company was hosting a conference in town and there were 3 evening functions that he wanted me to attend with him.  I said, "Pick one."  He said, "I need you at all three."  I immediately get tired thinking about being out past my bedtime 3 nights in a row.  Not to mention that I already know I will overeat because there will be 4 courses served along with trays of wine coming around the corner every time I look up.  If you are thinking that I could just not eat it all, you clearly don't know me well. I have never, ever been one to turn down dessert.  First World Problem...I know. 

The first evening affair was a wonderful dinner hosted by Chuck's company for the Chairman of the Board at The Houstonian Hotel. Business Casual.  I'm not really sure what that means but I was dressed appropriately...at least as well as the others. 

The second evening was a Texas themed Gala hosted by the Conference Board of Directors. "Western Wear" if you have it.  I had it. Well, I have boots.

The third evening was a Reception and Awards Dinner...Chuck would be wearing a suit because he was being awarded an award.  I would wear a maxi dress with a sweater with beading on it. Beads mean dressy, right?   And heels!  I.  Never.  Wear.  Heels.  So that makes it dressy in my book.

I take off early from work each day to race home, get freshened up and change clothes...then make the 50 minute trek to downtown Houston.  By Thursday, I am feeling worn out.  I wash my face, put on new make-up, get dressed and head out.  I am 5 minutes down the road when the dinging starts...the dinging that is accompanied by LOW FUEL flashing on the dashboard. Grrrrr.  I'll never make it downtown and back home again without stopping for gas now.


I pull in to the next station I see....rushing, rushing, rushing.  I put in $40...which is just about a half of a tank these days... take the nozzle out of the tank...but don't let go of the handle.  Gas spews everywhere.  I jump back and avoid getting it all over me....except for my arm and beaded sweater.  I run over to the window to tell the attendant that I spilled gasoline...wait, wait, wait while she finishes whatever she was doing behind the window...she rolls her eyes and comes over to look.  I apologize and tell her I am so sorry...I've never done that before...guess I'm in a hurry and wasn't thinking.....blah, blah...she says "okay well I'll clean it up...thanks for telling me... most people wouldn't."

I jump back in the car reeking of gasoline, so I have to turn around and head back home.  I run in, pull off the sweater, wash my arm with soap and water, dripping water down my dress...oh, well...and put on a denim jacket.   I breathe deep, telling myself to slow down and relax... and head back out for the long drive downtown.

Chuck meets me at the door of the hotel and we head up the elevator and go in to the Reception area.



And all I see are women in black sequined dresses.  You know...COCKTAIL DRESSES!

I look at Chuck and say, "I'm clearly underdressed!" 

He says, "Well, maybe take this blue jean thing off."  (Meaning my denim jacket) So even he knows I'm underdressed. 

I say, "NO!  I have bra straps showing under here. Not to mention upper arms."  Has a man ever had to worry about their upper arms?

So I ask him what exactly was the "dress" for this evening.  He says "Well, I'm wearing a suit.  I told you I was wearing a suit." Like the word suit has ever been put on an invitation describing the "attire" for the event.

A few minutes later, our daughter arrives and she is wearing something very dressy.  I ask her, "what was the dress for tonight?" She says, "It said SEMI FORMAL on the invitation."

Yeah.  The invitation I never saw. 


Evening wear for me is Old Navy pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Semi Formal would be throwing on a robe.  I'm back to my real life this week and it feels so good. 



P.S.  Congratulations Chuck!  I love you and am so proud of you.  Next time you see the words "Semi Formal" on an invitation for a function you want me to attend with you...be sure and say those words out loud to my face. 

The Last One

I attended the college graduation ceremony for our last child.  I am hoping that is the last one I ever have to attend.  Not that I won't attend a future one, but it's not something I will anxiously await.

Not because it's not a wonderful celebration of an awesome accomplishment...but because it's 2 or more hours long and I spend most of that time trying to find my one little dot of a kid in an ocean of dots, then quickly lose my attention and am forced to sit rather still for 2 or more hours.

It's a privilege, a right of passage, a ceremony that should be revered...but once the speeches are over, there is nothing but hundreds of names announced for the next hour and a half.  I planned on yelling when Will's name was called, but by the time I saw him at the edge of the stage and got my camera ready to aim, he was announced and gone....pushed through quickly for the next graduate coming behind him.

I took a lot of shots (lots of blurry shots) and tried to yell out his name at the same time...but it came out more like a spastic screech and then it was over.  He did it.  He graduated.  It's over.  I.  Think.  I'm.  Going.  To.  Cry.  Now.

Because we are only half way through the ceremony.  And I just want to get my hands on that kid and wrap my arms around him and scream, "How did this happen so quickly?"

This is it.  The last kid.  The last graduation ceremony.  The last kid has been raised.  It's over.  And I'm not sure I can even remember it all. 

Time, you are a sly one.  You make us wait, then it's over in a flash. 

A Tapestry

Think of a tapestry. Hundreds of inches of thread in many different colors woven in and out of each other until they come together to make a finished picture.  One single thread on its own is not so complex or pretty but hundreds of threads woven together creates something much more complex and usually beautiful.

I see a parallel between a tapestry and our lives.  Moments and people and celebrations and houses and locations and jobs all coming together to create memories and memories adding up to a life.  Intersections of moments that change our course of direction making different outcomes that we have no control over...yet it all seems to work out.

God showed Himself to me this weekend.  And I keep thinking of the happenings surrounding this weekend as a tapestry that God has been weaving for awhile now.

My middle daughter and I went to Scottsdale to attend a baby shower for my oldest, pregnant daughter.  My sister couldn't make this trip to Scottsdale with me, although she wanted to.  My close friend from Atlanta was there however.  So I was with my 2 daughters and my best friend. I was in a "happy place."

Thirty minutes before we were to leave for the shower...just as we were putting on our makeup...my phone rang.  My sister was calling me to tell me that my mother had just passed away.  My sister...who couldn't come to Scottsdale, was with my mother in her last peaceful moments and assured me that it was all good.  So I held back the tears and the emotions and carried forward through the next 2 days of happiness...visiting my daughter and enjoying the showering of gifts for my new grand baby.  And I was able to spend 2 great days with my best friend. 

My friend said to me, "Do you see that your sister couldn't come with you because God needed her to be with your mother?  And He sent me to be with you."

Ahhh, like a tapestry.  His great design. 

My mother has been in very ill health for a long time...and bed-ridden for the last 3 years.  She was 79 and still had all her wits about her but trapped in a body that failed her.  So there is a new peace within me knowing that she is no longer in pain or confined to a bed.  I want to believe she is reunited with my father, the love of her life.

Hindsight is 20/20 they say...and this weekend I can look back and clearly see God's handiwork in weaving all of this together in His perfect way in His perfect timing.





Dear God -
Thank You for my mother and the life You gave me through her body.  While we didn't always see eye to eye, I know she loved me and I loved her. Thank you for taking her out of this world full of physical and emotional pain and please, please, please take her to my sweet, calm Daddy.  I see clearly that You needed Catha to be here this weekend to be with my mother in her last moments and so You sent Debbie to be with me.  A perfect plan.  I mostly want to thank You for the peace I felt all weekend which I know I could not have had without Your presence around me.  Please continue to give me Your peace. 
Amen.

Happy Melancholy

....it's a bright yet gloomy time of year....

 

The holidays are here. 

Thanksgiving came and went and left a few pounds. 

I turned another year older. 

And while the store I work in has been decorated for Christmas

 since the middle of October,

I have had to push myself to get our house decorated the last couple of weeks.  

And now the tree is up and decorated but of course,

about a week later, the lights in the top quarter of it went out. 

 

 Of course. 

 

The holiday melancholy set in. 

 

Right on schedule. 

 

I fight it. 

 

Do you fight it?

 

Is it just me?

 

I will get through it.

 

 Maybe it's the hot, humid days while "Let It Snow" is playing.
 

  Maybe it's the bare and naked trees and the lawns covered in old brown leaves. 

 Even nature looks messy and sad.
 

Maybe it's the alignment of the sun changing the shadows in my house.
 

It could be my kids grew up while I was doing the dishes...

and this is the time of year that hits me in the face.
 

Or maybe it's my soul being nudged to really, really remember

what this time of year is all about. 

It's not about the tree being decorated.

 

It's not about the parties.

 (Do we really need another Ornament Exchange on our calendars?)

It's not about shopping for the perfect gift.
(Although I work in a gift store and
spend my days helping others find that perfect gift.)

 

When I decided to title this post Happy Melancholy

...it was a play on words and emotions. 

 

But the word holy jumped off the screen at me. 

Do you see it?


It is exactly what I needed to "see" today.

A great reminder to me...and maybe to you, too.

 

 

 

 

 

                                                          ~~ ... ~~


On another note......I met someone yesterday that I feel like I've known for a few years now.  She's one of my favorite design bloggers and I have her on the sidelines here so hopefully you've seen her blog, too.   I read her daily and this makes me feel like she's in my world.  I was working at the gift shop and she walked in and I knew her.  But I've never met her.  Thank you Internet.

I said,  "You're Holly aren't you?"   She replied, "Yes."  I said, "I read your blog...I love it...may I hug you?"  (a little creepy now that I think about it but I felt a little star struck and like she was an old friend all at the same time)  She said, "Yes"...and then thanked me for the hug and said she needed that. 

Okay, and I may have even written down my blog address and handed it to her a few minutes later.  We discussed being cursed with the love of decorating and beautiful things while living on a dime....knowing we are married to wonderful providers and handsome men but having clients that never even have to look at the price tag.  She knocked a tray over (because we have squeezed in a million Christmas items on top of an already fully packed store) and I laughed with her because knocking stuff over happens to me daily in that place.  In fact, my name is called out whenever there is a crash noise. I always claim the aisles are too narrow because surely I'm not too wide.

And then I became her new best friend for the next 20 minutes.  And here's what you need to know about her.  She is the real deal.  So real.  And talented and kind and funny and pretty.  Did I mention real?

I think we read others' blogs and see the cleaned up act and think they have it all.  And yes, they do have it all...just not all at the same time. It's not always clean and photo shopped and dinner isn't always served on time and eaten at the table. And there is probably a load of laundry in the dryer from 4 days ago. 

As Holly said as she was purchasing The Barefoot Contessa cookbook..."maybe I will cook more" and then told us no matter what she cooks, her 3 year old only wants a cheese quesadilla. 

See what I mean?  Real.

I love her.  And Holly, if you read this...let's do lunch.

And if you haven't read her blog...you're in for a treat. 

You Could Not Tell Me Then....

Back row:  Nanny holding Will and G'Daddy

Front row:  Cameron, Jack and Jordan

 

Halloween 1990

 

 

You could not tell me then to stop and relax because it was all going to go by so fast.  That's the trick of time, isn't it?  Long days, short years.  It's so cliche that it's irritating at the time.  And now when I hear myself tell my young mom friends to enjoy every moment, I want to slap myself because I sound like an old lady.

But oh, my.  It's the truth. 

I remember feeling overwhelmed on many Halloweens with so much to do between getting everyone dressed up and cooking our traditional chili and cornbread and having the whole family over which meant additional cleaning and serving.  Chuck would pull in to the driveway when it was about time to eat.  I could never relax and enjoy it.  At the time. 

And today...we bought the candy, I'm making the chili and cornbread but there are no trick-or-treaters to get dressed and fed in a rushed frenzy before trick-or-treating.  And I have all the time in the world. 

And it's not so fun.

And this picture makes me miss my daddy who dressed up in a prison suit on Halloween, 1990, because just a few weeks before he locked himself out of his house and was trapped between the security gate and front door.  He was trapped in a little area for hours.  When he saw this prison costume at a Walgreen's he knew he had to have it.  His humor was subtle.

And I miss those babies. 

Sorry for the melancholy.

I really don't allow myself to feel too much pity but something washed over me when I found this picture.  Because....(I'm slapping myself).... it does seem like it was just yesterday.

The melancholy could also be brought on by low blood sugar this morning. Chuck bought about 6 huge bags of candy and we got in to one of them last night. 

THIS FAMILY DOESN'T BORROW!

THIS FAMILY DOESN'T BORROW.

I'm not talking about borrowing money....because we do have a mortgage and a relationship with American Express.

I'm talking about borrowing things that we do not own but have a need for. 

There have been numerous times when we have borrowed something successfully and returned items intact.  But there are three instances that stand out in my mind where I firmly believe God was telling me "DO NOT BORROW THINGS."  Well, God or one of his angels.  Like the angel in charge of thumping us on the head when we make the same mistake continually. Sadly, it took me a while to catch on.



First story:

When I was pregnant with Will, Chuck's brother was graduating from college.  I needed a maternity dress to wear to the ceremony and just happened to mention it in a "small talk" conversation with my neighbor, who was also pregnant at the time.  (This was 1990, a dress was required for a graduation ceremony...I guess)  I didn't ask her if I could borrow one, I just mentioned I was going to have to go shopping for one.

A day later, this neighbor showed up at my back door with one of her maternity dresses.  I thanked her kindly, told I would try it on later and hung it up on the rod in my laundry room.  Here's the thing...a) it wasn't really my style, b) I really wanted to buy a new dress and c) I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I told her I would try it on. 

The next day, I head in to the laundry room to grab the dress to try on.  I pull it off the rod and as it's now facing me I see a huge bleached spot.  HUGE.  BLEACHED.  SPOT.  This spot wasn't there when she handed me the dress.  And now it was.  I had no idea how it happened....just assumed I must have had some bleach on the washer or dryer and the dress touched it as I swung it up on the rod.  Only me. 

I have to tell her.  So I practice my speech....including how sorry I am and that I have no idea how it happened...I would even offer to pay her for the dress...that I ruined...so she could at least buy another dress to replace this one.

I tell her all of this and she says, "okay, it was about $50." 

This was 1990.  Fifty dollars is like a hundred now.  For a used, not my style, maternity dress. High frustration level here because I did not even ask to borrow this dress.  She showed up at my back door with it.

I paid her the money and still had to go out and buy a dress.

Broker than I started.


Second story:

Our daughters were going on a ski trip with the church youth group.  We are not a skiing family so have no closet full of ski clothes.  My sister-in-law and her family are a skiing family so have a closet full of ski clothes.  I buy one jacket for one daughter and ask my sister-in-law if she has an old ski jacket that we could borrow....trying to save a little money here knowing we won't be using these ski clothes again.  She has one I can borrow. 

Fast forward to the trip.  My daughter has on the borrowed ski jacket and is skiing when she had a severe accident.  She is rushed to a local hospital where they immediately cut off the jacket.  CUT.  OFF.  THE.  JACKET. 

My daughter is okay but suffered a broken arm, is very banged up and suffered a mild head injury.   The jacket is the least of my worries at this time.  However, I do tell my sister-in-law about the jacket....and offer to pay for it.  She says, "okay, it was about $150."

I paid her the money.

Broker than I started. 

Of course, at this point all I cared about was that my daughter was okay.  Still.  Only me.  Only us.


Third story:

Will was getting his first apartment in college and we were rounding up furniture.  He is lent a white leather sectional from my daughter's boyfriend who found it by a dumpster and then used it himself for a year......with other college boys and Labrador retrievers abusing it even further.  This was "offered" to Will not asked for by Will.  But accepted, nevertheless. 

The sofa was huge and heavy and filthy.  We (mostly me) spent hours scrubbing it with Magic Erasers to get it clean.  Turns out only one part of the L shaped sectional will fit in Will's tiny apartment.  So the other half is up in my game room...otherwise known as The Furniture Cemetery.

A year goes by...the boyfriend is now an ex...and he needs his sofa back. 

Oh.  My.  Goodness. 

Will tells me he (the ex) wants to come get it but he has a love seat Will can use.

And it is at this point that I go in to another orbit.....verbally. 

 

NO. 

 

 NO. 

 

NO!!! 

 

YOU ARE NOT

TAKING A LOVE SEAT. 

 

YOU AREN'T

TAKING ANYTHING!!!

 

 

THIS FAMILY DOESN'T BORROW.

 

  EVER AGAIN!

 

Because?

 

Because Chuck has to rent a U-Haul trailer and he and Will drive up to Nacogdoches (round trip in one day...$$$ for gas and meals) to get one half of a sectional that was found at a dumpster, heavily abused, lent to us, cleaned by us and now costing us time and money. 

 

Broker than we started.

 

 

 

So don't even think about lending me something. 

 

Or my husband. 

 

Or any kid that I'm still financially responsible for.

 

The answer is no.

 

 

 

 

Why I Don't Play Any Sports

I've had a hard day.  Not the worst day ever but the kind of day that started out crappy and went downhill.  Tears have been building pressure at the backs of my eyeballs all day long. 

How my day started....

I fixed my coffee...first checking the Keurig water reservoir for ants...yes, ants....and sure enough there were a couple floating in there.  We have ants...apparently Pharoah ants...still...and finally called an exterminator.  He quoted us a $150.00 service fee with no guarantee that they would go away or that they wouldn't come back.  Well, never mind then...that's what we have going on for free now.  So we cancelled and are totally frustrated while the ants are winning.

Bad mood begins.

I took my coffee (with either no ants or a boiled ant) and a sack of goodies upstairs to wrap so I could mail a package to Jordan. While in the craft room, I saw Will come out of the guest room.

Me:  Why did you sleep in there?

Will:  'Cause Sadie's Anal Gland popped and got all over my sheets.

Sorry, I should have warned you that was coming....but I had no warning either.

Bad mood cranks up a notch.

Yeah.  So you're on my side now aren't you?  Sadie is our 7 year old chihuahua with a vacant anal gland now.

Gross.

And now 2 sets of sheets have to be washed.  On.  My.  Day.  Off.

Only I pitched a little menopausal fit and Will washed the sheets as well as cleaned his room.  Because the fit will be blamed on menopause I will call it that...but it's really because I saw piles of stuff spilling out of the gameroom and Will's room. 

Then, I ran a million errands in this ridiculous heat and fought off the need to cry all day.  Does it ever hit you like that? 

Bad mood taking precedent over everything. 

So by 5 I call Chuck and tell him I need a margarita.  He says okay because he's nice like that. 

I come home from errands and he comes home from work.   He checks the mail then says he's ready to go. He heads out to the car while I finish getting ready.  I am met at the back door by Harry and a tennis ball.  I usually give him a treat when I leave but Chuck was waiting so I was in a hurry.  I decide to throw the ball outside for him ...as a substitute "treat." 

I pick up the ball, throw back my hand and bring it forward to let go of the ball....I believe it's called throwing.  Only, my hand was stopped mid-air by the door frame. 

My.  Hand. Was. Stopped.  By.  A. Door. Frame.  Ohhhhhhhhhh.  Myyyyyyyyyy.  GAAAAAAAHH.

So now I really have something to cry about.  I felt my brain waves and heart beat in the end of my thumb and wanted to gag for at least 30 minutes.  We still headed out to eat and the margarita helped. 

But this is why I don't play any sports.  Balls hurt me.  Or do some crazy magnetic thing to my brain making my arm go in the exact opposite direction I want it to causing door frames to jump out at me.

*****************************************

And if you're here because I'm on your Google Reader or you just check in now and then, I am so grateful.  I am obviously in a little funk.  It's Houston, it's hot.  I am busy but can think of nothing to write about...except anal glands and smashed thumbs, lucky for you. 

I work all day and crash at night with Harry by my side. 

Do not give up on me.

 But count me out if you need an extra player on your team.

Pegged Me

Will has 2 other interns that share the office with him at his 8 to 5 job this summer.  One of them is a guy who knows how to read a person's horoscope.  I should say, he knows how, is still learning and likes to practice.  So Will has given him a lot of practice by giving him our family members information. 

Some would say "horoscopes" are dark, evil, worshipping other gods.  Whatever.  I worship one God.  I am not in a cult.  I never read my horoscope (used to).  But, if you know me in person, you will find this reading below is quite freaky in that it describes me very well.

Will wrote down what his friend said as he was reading aloud how the planets and stars were aligned on the day I was born...at the time I was born....and I assume as my life progresses.  I really don't know the details...this is the wadded up, stained paper that Will gave me from his backpack.

I have struggled my whole life with control issues...as in having to be in control. Duh, if you know me.  I have been called "judgemental" by a family member a time or two.  I refer to it as "observations."  I do not give up easily.  I experienced a sudden event surrounding education within the past year...when I resigned the job I loved and moved on.  I was very mature when younger.

Attracted to younger spirits?  Yes.  Five year olds are my favorite people in the whole world.  And lots of my best friends are way younger than me.

I could go on and on about this.  It just pegs me.

The last one intrigues me....
Change in self expression coming up? 

Karaoke, perhaps?

Brought To You By The Letter A...

.....as in Ants and Aspartame.

We've lived in this house for about 13 years.  The previous owners had a monthly extermination service but we have never had it exterminated.  I think it's mostly because we just haven't had problems with bugs but also because my father was a chemist and impressed on me how harmful the chemicals are that are used by exterminators.  He felt the chemicals were way more harmful to humans than the bugs were.  Bugs....a nuisance?  Yes.  But worth the risk the chemicals cause?  Nope.

Gross alert:  When and if a cockroach makes it inside, one of the dogs will usually play with it awhile, then eat it.  So while there may be some screaming and squeeling, the bug doesn't make it long in this house.

But this summer we have ants!

Actually, they are more like ants!



 If  you can call the small moving brown dot an ant.  Seriously, this has to be the smallest creature God made.  Part of me stares at it in wonder....amazed that something that tiny has a brain and the inherited drive to find water and sugar and grease.  But the biggest part of me is being driven crazy by this intrusion....right by my coffee pot. 

What? 

You can't see them? 

See it?

Do you see it now?

There on the edge?
I told you they were tiny.  They are constantly on the move....and as you can see my granite is like camouflage for these things.

So I spray vinegar.  I spray bleach.  I spray Windex.  I spray water.  I wipe 'em up.  I squish them.  But they always come back. 

About a month ago, I put out a plea on fb to see if anyone had any tricks...and of course, a poisonous chemical is the solution.  So we finally bought the stuff.

I circled the ants in this picture because as you can tell, they blend in with the brick and granite.  The only reason we see them is because they are moving.  And my latest pasttime is to take a wet paper towel and wipe the counter....then looking at the towel to see how many ants I scored.  Sad, really.

You put the drops of Terro on squares to put out.  The stuff attracts them...they eat it and go off to die. 

We're hoping we got it far enough away from Harry. But nothing is really ever out of his big, long reach.  Couldn't resist putting a sweet picture of him on here. 

The ants are still here this morning but there seems to be fewer.  Somewhere in my walls, there's probably a funeral procession taking place.


And now about Aspartame.

My middle child is fair like me.  And like me, her skin is prone to be sensitive.  We sunburn.  We itch. We react to laundry detergent and makeup at times.  We even experience hives now and then.  But this year, she has had a couple of very scary episodes of hives followed by her heart racing,  trouble breathing and feeling like her throat is closing up.  She has gone to the ER and followed up with her doctor and seen an allergist.  She has an EpiPen and had to use it recently...which always requires an trip to the ER.

This is so scary for her...and for us.  The allergy tests show that she is allergic to a lot of trees, pollens, molds, dust (oh, dear God) and such but only a few foods...strawberries being one of them.  The allegic reaction she is having has to be from something she ingests. We are doing a lot of detective work on our own...food journaling and reading labels...to see if we can pinpoint just what is causing this.  And what the common food was during these two scary incidences.

This morning, she put in a piece of gum and immediately started feeling like her throat was closing up.  She spit it out, rinsed her mouth with water and then drank some warm tea. She felt better and started reading the label on the gum.  The gum was full of ingredients that were mostly chemicals.  And after googling a lot of them...it seems Aspartame may be the culprit.

It's in Diet Coke and that was something she had had both times before when she had such a bad reaction.

And ME?  Well, last summer, I drank Crystal Light Ice Tea by the pitcher fulls.  And I was always itchy.  Like clawing my legs.  I assumed I had dry skin and would lotion up....then go get a big ol' glass of Crystal Light Ice Tea....with NutraSweet....Aspartame. I didn't put two and two together until one night, after 2 huge glasses of the thirst quenching stuff, I started having a weird sensation all over my face and my heart was pounding and pounding fast.  I took my blood pressure and it was so high and my heartbeat was 120! 

So then comes the anxiety...my old friend from my 20's and 30's...which rolled over me and made it impossible to take a deep breath.  Was I having a heart attack?  Was I having an anxiety attack?  Would Chuck remarry if I kicked the bucket or had I ruined women for him? Does poor Chuck think I'm crazy?  We all know the answer to that one.

I didn't go to the ER that night because I forced myself to lie down and try to ride it out...but I went to my doctor first thing in the morning.   After an EKG...they determined I had not had a heart issue...but after much talking back and forth, decided it was probably the NutraSweet! It can cause your heart to race....and lots of other scary stuff.  Sweet poison they call it.

Google it.  It. Is. Scary.

 I'm just putting this out there for any one of you who may have had the same reaction. Read your labels.  Those chemicals are in everything it seems.  I have never been a Coke...or any carbonated drink....drinker.  But I have lots of friends who drink Diet Coke.   I have been on a diet (or coming off of one or going on to one) my whole adult life and use Sweet n' Low in my coffee and tea.  I'm giving it up...even though it is saccharin based which our bodies don't digest.  It just can't be a good thing.



Chemicals...our friend, our enemy. 

Not My Enemy

en·e·my

   /ˈɛnəmi/ Show Spelled [en-uh-mee]   noun, plural en·e·mies, adjective noun

1. a person who feels hatred for, fosters harmful designs against, or engages in antagonistic activities against another; an adversary or opponent.

*************************************************

According to this definition of "enemy," I can't think of someone I consider an enemy.  I don't hate anyone or foster harmful designs against another.  Oh, in my younger days I admit I spent a lot of time thinking about people I couldn't stand.  As I get older, I realize if I couldn't stand someone it was usually after they hurt me.  My reaction to the hurt was to find everything about them that I couldn't stand and revel in it. I would take the energy of hurt and turn it in to anger.   

Don't get me wrong, there are definitely people who rub me the wrong way.  Or people who I choose to let go of because the relationship is not a healthy one.  But hate?  Nope.  Wish ill will?  Never.  Just staying on my side of the sidewalk.  Not looking for trouble.  Being kind to one another.

I guess I could have those who think of me as their enemy but again, not intentional on my part. 

A couple of things happened this past week that got me thinking about "enemies."  The first incident happened while watching an Oprah interview of Khloe Kardashian and Lamar Odom.  Their answer to a question got me thinking.  Khloe and Lamar were telling Oprah that they pray together every day...usually in the evening.  They told her they prayed for their enemies.  Oprah asked Lamar if he had enemies....his response was guarded and slow...."I have nay sayers...."

And don't we all have nay sayers?  People who don't like us.  People who don't understand us.  People who we have hurt without intention.   People who have hurt us, so we turn from them?
  

The second thing that happened this week that got me thinking about "enemies" was the passing of my Uncle Berry.  Berry was married to my father's sister.  They married at a very young age and had 3 sons...7 years between the first and second, and 7 years between the second and third.  The third son was my beloved cousin Paul.  Berry and my aunt were later divorced and Berry remarried.  For the majority of my adult life, I lost touch with Berry. 

Berry and his family lived with my father's mother, my grandmother.  Childhood visits to my grandmother were visits to see Paul.  The house was full of cousins and aunts and uncles during these visits and I remember Uncle Berry sitting in his chair, smoking a cigar...always smoking a cigar...and being funny.  Usually the black and white television was on in the background and his commentary would make me laugh.  It was the 60's, I was a child.  He seemed bigger than life. And we had a common love....Paul. 

From the moment my family arrived at my grandmother's house, Paul and I would play non-stop.  Usually cops and robbers.  He was the cop.  I was the secretary...who typed up the reports. 

As an adult, I learned the pain that Berry had caused my aunt....things that later resulted in a divorce.  The adults...my aunts and uncles and their spouses...knew of these hurts and as families do, took sides...against Berry.  But not me.  I didn't know about the hurts. I was just a child.  And Berry had never been anything but good to me.

This is my father's side of the family.

I'm the 4th child from the left...holding my shoe.  Paul is in my grandmother's lap. 

They were his nay sayers.  I wasn't.

And haven't you had that, too?  You like someone that another friend of yours doesn't?  You've been hurt by a relative that hasn't hurt another relative?

Back to Berry...

Berry's youngest son, my cousin Paul, was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer in the fall of 2004.  He came to Houston for diagnosis and treatment at M.D. Anderson.  He was 45, I was 45.  He loved me, I loved him.  He was scared, I tried my best to be brave for him. I gave my time to Paul that fall. Berry, Paul's father, came often to see him and in the last two months of Paul's life, we took him back to his one bedroom apartment in Dallas.  Hospice came everyday.  I was there for most of those last 2 months.  And Berry was there bringing a fresh box of Krispie Kreme donuts to Paul every morning.  Just there...being present.  A sad man watching his son die in front of him. 

This is the Berry I remember.  This is the person I know. 

He has nay sayers.  But I'm not one of them.

In the years since Paul's death, Berry has called me  2 or 3 times a year.  He liked to talk about Paul. Our conversations would always end with him in tears telling me he had to hang up now.  I would like to believe he has been reunited with Paul in a place where there are no nay sayers.

Barnacles and Floaters

Contrary to the title, this post is not about the ocean.  

I wish it were.  But it is about barnacles and floaters.

A few years ago, I had a place on my back that was bothersome.  This was mostly because it was right where the hooks of my bra landed across the middle of my back.  I had Chuck look at it a time or two to see if it was changing or if it looked like something suspicious.  He would take less than a millisecond and declare it fine.  I never felt quite comfortable with his opinion, so I got a second one.

The dermatologist I go to is the most beautiful woman....flawless skin....not a pore is detectable...she literally looks airbrushed.  Not only is she beautiful, but she is extremely kind and good and so popular it can take up to 3 months to get an appointment with her. 

So I made the appointment and waited my 3 months.

When it was finally the moment of my long awaited appointment and she walked in the room with all of her flawless beauty, she declared the spot "a barnacle."  A barnacle of aging.  Just how my skin ages she said matter of factly.  She burned the barnacle off and, my appointment, that I had waited 3 months for, was over in less than 15 minutes...start to finish. Plus, of course, the hour or more I waited in the Waiting Room. 

I tell you this, because a couple of months ago, I noticed another spot in the hairline above my left ear.  It didn't hurt, but it was bothersome and felt like a ......barnacle.  Because I am constantly tucking my hair behind my ear, I would feel it a hundred times a day.  Again, I had Chuck check it out and in the bat of an eye, he said it looked like nothing to him. 

His exact words, "yeah, I see something but it looks like nothing."

But that "nothing" was a barnacle, I just knew it...because it felt the same.  I needed to call that dermatologist and get on her waiting list again.  But I kept forgetting to make that call.  So the other day, I looked up when a customer came in and it happened to be another dermatologist that I had been to a few times years ago.  I asked my co-worker,  "Would it be totally inappropriate for me to see if she'll take a look at my barnacle?"  I said this facetiously...of course.

And as I said it, I reached up to the place above my ear
 but inside my hairline to feel the rough little barnacle. 

And y'all...........

IT WAS GONE!

I am not kidding!  It's gone!

And I swear it was just there the day before this...and only a few days before my co-worker and I were talking about skin stuff....barnacles and such....which is why I asked her the facetious question.  It's been there at least 2 or 3 months. 

What the heck happened? 

Do you think it could be that all the chemicals in my hair products burned that sucker right off?

Whatever, it's gone.

But you know what isn't gone?

The floaters in my eye.

Nope...still dealing with those.

Like looking through a dirty shower glass door.  If you see me and it looks like I'm winking at you, I'm probably not.  Just looking through that bad eye with the good eye closed to check on the progress of my floater.

Talk about fun.  This aging is a riot.

Amen.