A day in the life...

The other night, I'm at H.E.B. in the Vintage.  For those of you outside of Texas (or Mexico) that's a pretty darn awesome grocery store.  So cool, in fact, I take visitors there to check it out.  Ask Bethany.  Anyway, I'm in the parking lot, riding this really awesome beach cruiser-style bike with those big old handle bars and banana seat.  It might have had a basket, I don't remember.  It's an eerie, inky black outside, except for a few parking lot security lights and I'm kinda cruisin' around the parking, making figure eights, like it's my mission.  I suddenly make a bee-line for the corner of the lot, next to the exit, and go up this little hill, that I swear was never there before.  Suddenly, I'm riding through thick sludge that resembles green and yellow frosting, though in the shape of blades of grass.  It's really hard to peddle through, but I truck on, because it must be done.  Out of no where, I start to hear a high-pitched, menacing cackle, very similar to the laughter in Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombies.  As I turn the bike, I notice two girls I went to high school loading groceries into a black SUV.  They were a couple of years ahead of me in school, and one of their names escapes me.  They look at me with disgust as I try to frantically get through the sludge.  The laughter and darkness is really starting to scare me.  Lurking just to my left I suddenly spot Biscuit, my brother-in-law's Chihuahua-looking dog who weighs about 10 pounds and has the craziest spike-y dog hair cut you've ever seen.  She has more of an underbite than usual and has three yellow, snarly teeth sticking out of her bottom jaw, almost long enough to touch her nose.  I realize that the cackle is definitely coming from her, although she's being sneaky about it, so the girls don't know it's her.  I'm shaking by now, terrified this little mongrel is going to snatch me up and the girls are looking at me like I'm an idiot.  I can tell they recognize me, but can't remember my name either.  Since they're watching me now, I know now is my chance to escape Biscuit.  I make a break for my right, exiting the parking lot onto Center Street, right across from Rock Springs Honda/Toyota.

Now this is the point where my subconscious and my conscious mash up and I realize something is wrong.  How the hell did I get from Houston to Rock Springs, Wyoming in one turn?  Ah...a dream.  A crazy one. And one that is a sign that my husband has been playing too much Call of Duty.  And one that I had such a hard time going back to sleep after, I felt I had to share it.

Kitchen Update

I don't know how people survive major home renovations.  We got our counters replaced last Thursday and then being the do-it-yourself-ers we are, decided to update a few other things in our kitchen.  Nothing big - just trying to make things a little prettier.  Anyway, we finally got the oven hooked back up yesterday but my sink has been out of commission for 5 days now and it's driving me crazy.  We need to figure out how to hook that drain back up asap!

To be continued...

socks

I used to hate socks.  Like seriously.  I never wore them.  I was a big flip flop and sandal fan, even though I grew up somewhere where it snows at least nine months out of the year.  My feet are always cold so I figured it didn't really make much of a difference if I wore socks or not.  My mom and I used to argue about my aversion to socks often.

Something about being really barefoot makes you feel so reckless and carefree.  Especially being barefoot outside, which I used to do a lot with Raven and Alisa.  Sometimes Alisa and I would chase Raven barefoot through the mud with earthworms because she was the girliest of us all and would freak out - but that's part of another story.

Last week, as I was getting ready for work, I put on my socks first.  There I stood, in all my nakedness - except for the socks, of course - and realized how weird it is for me that I really love socks now.  A few months ago, I was really sick and wound up in the hospital, and I actually sent my husband home to get a particular pair of socks for me and I actually felt better when I put them on - kinda like a kid with a band-aid.  Lately I really like the security of socks.  They are taut, and snug against my feet, and I feel like everything is in its place when I have my socks on.  Maybe this is a sign of growing older, or maybe wiser - I'd rather feel secure and comforted than careless and wild.  Don't ever let me be too old to let my hair down and take my socks off once in a while.

pieces of paper

Paper doesn't cost much.  Everyone has some.  Most of us probably take it for granted.  It is, however, a pretty significant thing sometimes.

I've traced my hands on colorful, construction paper.  I practiced my handwriting and multiplication on wide-ruled notebook paper.  I passed notes in class and I typed book reports on paper.  I took the written driver's license test on scantron paper.  I got to walk across a stage with my friends to get my paper high school diploma, not long after I received college acceptance letters on university letterhead.

My first paychecks were paper.  My college diplomas, too.  And my marriage license.

Today marks the first anniversary of my marriage to a wonderful man - my best friend and partner in the world.  The first anniversary is the "paper anniversary".  I think that's pretty fitting for yet another fantastic milestone in life.

Now it's time to see if that wedding cake is still any good...

Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

After you experience a significant loss, people will always tell you that time heals everything.  Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I don't sugar coat things, so here's the ugly truth - some wounds might heal, but will still scar.

Nearly five years ago, I lost my mom to a battle with ovarian cancer.  It was very quick.  I remember getting a call from my mom on June 20, 2006 telling me that her doctor had found a mass and they were going to run more tests.  On July 21, she was gone.

In my short time on this earth, I have experienced a lot of loss.  I have lost dogs, grandparents, classmates.  But nothing can prepare you for the sudden loss of someone so close to you.  Particularly since most of my friends were just turning 21 and going to bars and clubbing - living carefree - and I was helping to make funeral arrangements.

The purpose of this post is not to depress or upset those reading it.  I have a friend - who I used to be quite close to, but unfortunately life has sent us down different paths and separated us a bit.  This friend recently lost her father, not long after having her first child.  I can't even begin to imagine the range of emotions that she has dealt with in the few months.  I have reflected over the last few weeks with hopes of giving her some insight, wishing I could shed some wisdom on her.

The funny thing is, death is such an incredibly personal thing.  Everyone deals with it differently, though I have noticed everyone does seem to go through the stages of grief of which you hear.  It's hard to give advice to someone about something so deep.

I enjoy talking about my mom - remembering the movies we used to watch, how we used to fight about curfew when I was high school, what she might doing right now if she was still here.  I cry every time I hear "The Best Day" by Taylor Swift and put my mom and me in the song - but that's okay.  I think it is so important to remember and honor her memory, even if it's not always easy.

Out of all bad, must come good, and in this case, the good is education.  Before my mom got sick, I had heard of ovarian cancer, but didn't know much about it.  After her death, I took comfort in learning everything about it I could.  I researched on the internet, read books, and talked to doctors.  I make sure to tell the women I know that ovarian cancer does not have glaring symptoms.  They can be easily overlooked or brushed off, which is why it is so deadly.  Through my studies, I learned that ovarian cancer and breast cancer can be directly linked, and a mutated gene can cause them.  Since my mom's mom had breast cancer, it is possible my sister and I could be carriers of this gene.  I have looked into genetic testing, but have not quite reached the point in my life where I am ready to carry through with that.

This year we had a birthday party for my mom - something I am hoping will become a tradition.  We released teal balloons (teal is the ovarian cancer color) with handwritten notes those who knew her attached to the balloons.  It was wonderful.  I would like to get to the point where we can volunteer as a family at the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, or do charitable events like The Race for the Cure.  Though we have memories, I think it would be so much better if good for others can come out of our loss and we can help others through trying times.

The advice I can give to my friend - and to anyone else - is to take your time.  Grieve the way you want. Talk about your loved one and remember them.  Take time to be angry and to wonder "why".  But most importantly, move on with your life, and live in a way that you know would make your angel proud.  Living your life does not mean you are forgetting, it means you are living the dreams of those who have left you behind only to watch over you from heaven.  Remember that there will never be a day you don't think of who you have lost - and that's okay.  It's okay if you need help, or need to talk to someone.  Reach out to those around you, whether they be friends, a spouse, family, or a counselor.  Be grateful, everyday, for the blessings in your life.  Love is all around you.  Perhaps it is the laughter of your child, a hug from your husband, or a text message from your stepchildren.  Notice the good and important, and try not to dwell on the insignificant.  Cry, if you need to.  Try to laugh more.  There is no set date for "getting over it" and you will grieve in some way or another for the rest of your life, but that does not mean life is over for you.

Time does not necessarily heal all wounds, but you will get stronger...that, I can promise.

Easy Pasta Salad

This pasta salad is a family favorite around my house.  It's super quick and easy, and can be prepared ahead of time.  The few ingredients are stuff I usually have in my kitchen, too.  You can prepare it ahead of time for barbeques or pool parties, or make it for a fast dinner.

You will need:

Uncooked rotini pasta noodles (I prefer the tri-colored ones, mostly because they are prettier.  I buy them in bulk for quick meal fixes.) 

Olive oil

Cubed colby jack cheese

Pepperoni and/or salami

Italian dressing

You can also add olives or other vegetables, but I have picky eaters, so I don't.

Cook and drain noodles.  Drizzle with a little olive oil, toss noodles, and set aside to cool.  Slice the cheese cubes in half or quarters, depending on your preference.  Slice pepperoni and salami into quarters.  Mix cheese and meat into the pasta.  Be careful not to do this until the pasta is cooled, or your cheese will melt.  Drizzle with Italian dressing to taste, and mix thoroughly.  Enjoy!

Lemons

My husband and I purchased our house nearly two years ago.  The "pro" side of our list of reasons why we picked this house was full of the usual things like location, number of bedrooms, kitchen size, and so on.  At the bottom of the list I remember noting that I liked that there were citrus trees in the backyard.  The first fall we lived here I was able to harvest probably at least 20 lemons off of two trees, and set off making homemade lemonade.  This past fall I was discouraged when I couldn't find one single lemon.  I was at a loss for how my trees had been so fruitful one year, and barren the next.

One of the trees has become mutated and a bit dwarfed as it struggles for sunlight.  It is shaped as though it got blown sideways during a hurricane and was never properly braced upright again.  This past weekend as I was working in the backyard, I noticed something really quite special.  Beneath the twisted and deformed branches, I spotted three nearly ripe, perfectly shaped, bright yellow lemons.  I was so ecstatic that I rushed to our other tree to see what fruit it had to bear.  To my surprise, the other tree, was covered in tiny white blossoms with a speck of pink, brilliantly flickering in the wind, waiting for it's turn to produce fruit.  Two trees in one yard - one at the end of it's production cycle and one just beginning.

The popular saying goes "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."  That little saying reminds us to find the beauty in life - the silver lining, if you will.  My life has not been filled with lemonade by any means, but it is still a great life.  Sometimes it's the little things in life, like lemon trees, that I need to remind me of the wonders of life.  So when life gives you lemons, make lemonade...or paint a wall a bright, cheery yellow.  That's what I did.

Before (notice ugly blue/gray in the stairway)

After