Happy Birthday, Mitzi!

Mitzi turned two yesterday.  Mitzi is my Mitsubishi Outlander.  Although she's only two, she already has 42,000 miles.  Once I bought Mitzi, life shifted into the fast lane.  I wrote a little story about test driving Mitzi and Peter Frampton playing on the radio.  A man named Robbie made a comment about my story in a grief forum.  A couple of weeks later he messaged me.  Now that I know Robbie, I am surprised he ever sent that message!  The story that I shared  with the world ended where Robbie and I got engaged.  The truth is that the engagement started a whirlwind of activity that has only just started to slow down a bit!

Planning a wedding wasn't easy, even as small of an event as we had.  There were only thirty family and close friends invited and the wedding was held at a beautiful nine-bedroom house in Destin, Florida.  It could not have happened without the help of said family and friends and for that we are forever grateful.  The only regret was that both of our fathers were unable to be there.  We loved our ceremony and the fact that both families were able to remember and honor those that we lost while still celebrating with us in our new found happiness. 

We decided, not long after, that moving to the Mississippi Coast would be our goal.  We were still sending wedding thank-yous  as I began filling out job applications.  Once interviews were scheduled, preliminary plans for selling the Texas house began.  Once I got a job, searching for a place to live (with six pets!!!) was difficult.  It began as wanting to rent a house for a year to figure out what we wanted, but soon changed to going ahead and buying a house.  Buying takes a little time, so we had to also find a furnished apartment to rent so that I could start the new job.  I kept a calendar over the summer, using code letters for which house we actually slept in that evening.  There was only one occasion where we spent more than seven nights in one place.  A triangle was carved on the highways from Houston to Jackson to Biloxi.  And Mitzi was the champ that traveled those miles.  She was relieved upon occasion by a Penske truck or two, but she also took her turn pulling "Dino", the 12-foot Uhaul trailer.  Mitzi has taken us on uncertain rides, heard us complain and cry and voice our fears; but Mitzi has also heard our laughter, our hopes, our wonder at the beautiful sunsets and rainbows.  And yes, Mitzi has seen our hugs and kisses along the way.  Just this past Christmas, she traveled, full of presents and wearing reindeer antlers, to bring family - and three dogs - together for the holiday.   

Mitzi turned two yesterday.  She has two dents, but don't we all?  I took her for a full wash and cleaning at Classy Chassis.  She deserved it.

I'm a fake and a phony 1/1/14

I spend a lot of time convincing myself through words that I type that I am trying to be positive.  Convincing others that I have a healthy attitude.  Trying to find little nuggets of truth and inspiration in everyday life and prove that I'm grateful for what I still have.  Then a day or an event happens and I'm a fake.  If I said how I really feel, I'm afraid that everyone around me would quote Sandy from "Grease"; "You're a fake and a phony, and I wish I'd never laid eyes on you!".

I'm not well.  I'm still pouting.  And with all the time that goes by, I find more to pout about.  Every normal obstacle that blocks my path feels like a personal affront to my widow-hood.  The car won't start?  That's because I'm a widow.  The dog got out? That's because my husband died.  It's silly, I know, but when I go to bed alone at night, and wake up alone every morning, the void is an entity that has taken on powers of great proportion.  The void of him seems to cause every little bit of trouble I have.

And so the year ended yesterday.  All day long, I was extremely sad. Tears were close at any given moment.  I tried to explain it - the end of the year he died, entering a new year without him, an overload of people when I've gotten used to quiet, all kinds of "reasons".  The real reason?  I think my life sucks now, and outwardly I put on a brave face and list everything for which I'm grateful.  Most days, I can convince myself.  Most days, gratefulness wins.  But you know what?  It will be a long time before I don't pout anymore.  Expect that from me.  You can ask "what's wrong?".  But you can also correctly say, 90% of the time; "Oh, one of those days, huh?"  I'm going to make it.  I just don't think it's going to be a very scenic route.  My apologies, but I'm pretty sure my excuse is a good one.

I'm cornbread - Who are you? 12/30/13

Have you ever had a piece of really fine, Southern-cooked cornbread?  Bacon grease, buttermilk, and an iron skillet are all involved in creating the delectable treat.  Its rich, flavorful, crunchy-soft texture makes it perfect as a bread or a "sopper" - a side dish designed to mop up grave or juices so nothing of a delicious meal is wasted.

It's obvious, is it not, that I am a fan of cornbread.  But this story has nothing to do with actually eating cornbread.  There was no cornbread in either of the Christmas meals in which I participated.  Ham was the main dish at both sides of the family's gatherings. The breads of choice were potato rolls and yeast rolls.  No, cornbread just popped into my mind one day.  The sixth day of our holiday trip, I was sitting in the living room with many beloved family members, and the thought just occurred - "I feel like a piece of cornbread.".  I was in the overwhelming emotional state of love, grief, exhaustion, recovery from illness, desire to help, desire to sleep - and I pictured myself as a triangle of cornbread.  I don't mean that I had been stirred and baked at a high heat.  I mean that the consistency and purposes of the piece of cornbread as it sits on the dinner plate seemed to perfectly portray my perception of how I react to all overtures and approaches to me.

First things first - I feel loved. I feel loved by friends.  I feel loved at work.  I especially felt loved when visiting the families this past week.  It's so good to get to see the family.  I love seeing and spending time with everyone.  We're all different, yet all a part of the same group.  I think of it as a meal on a plate - all your different items, and I'm the piece of cornbread.  Nobody would not want the cornbread there - I belong.

I feel covered.  I feel as if everyone wants to spread a layer of protection over me like so much butter!  Thank you, by the way.  I have needed a lot of protection this year.   Sometimes, without that layer of people to step up to others and say "Do you know who this is?" or "Let me tell you what you're dealing with here...", I would have dried up and crumbled away.  Many family, friends, and even social media acquaintances have spread a layer of protection over me by coming to my defense in some matter or sympathizing with their own experience stories that make me laugh and feel as if I'm not alone.

A good cornbread is a little crumbly.  It's a coarse bread, so those pieces sometimes just crumble away. I can identify with the crumbly nature of cornbread.  Innocent things - tv commercials, e-mails, greeting cards, comments, questions, advice - all of those can crumble me in a second.  Just as the fork doesn't mean to hit the cornbread on its way to the vegetables, the world doesn't mean to stab me. My consistency right now makes it easy for little things to just stick in and knock a piece of me away.  If anyone can actually give me a real, factual system for not being too sensitive, I will listen and try it.  How do you change the way you are emotionally made?  The important part, though, is that even though I may get a bit crumbled, so many others are there for me to hold me together.

To know I'm not alone is such an advantage.  There are big chunks of time when I am now physically alone.  (There will be another post someday on the advantages of dogs and cats.)  But I am not alone in any way other than that. Just as all the servings of food on a plate bump into each other, and the juices roll around to be soaked up by the cornbread, I am surrounded, in spirit, with so many of you that drop everything to be there if I call, text,  make a comment, or cry out through a status.  You reach out and I soak it up.  Thank you.  Just as cornbread is made richer by soaking in some juice (I'm thinking good old-fashioned beans and cornbread, a little sausage with it....), I am made richer and stronger by your support.  I am trying to take steps on the road to recovery.  When I stop still and stare, it may be your simple smile or pat on the arm that gives me strength to pick up my foot and take another step.

So, here's to the new year. I can make an honest toast that says "May it be better than 2013."  Even thinking that hurts, though, because 2013 contained my last months of my "old" life.  The life I thought I'd live forever. Thank goodness for the love and ideas and wisdom out there that this little ol' piece of cornbread can soak up. I might sit and stare and act a little bland, but please know I gather in your wishes, hugs and love and convert them to the strength to go on.  Happy New Year.

Holiday Lessons from the Animal Kingdom - or - Why the Cat Threw Up 11/27/13

The cat threw up already.  It's only Wednesday, day BEFORE Thanksgiving, and there's some purging going on around here. Poor Roxy.  She's not really purging, you all know cats don't do that, right?  But she is suffering a common holiday malady: invasion of space and routine.

I love the holidays.  I love time off work, I love seeing family and friends.  I'm especially grateful to not only have my precious girls home from college, but nephew Zach visiting as well.  We are knitting together a united front against the sadness of missing Scott.  We are staying busy, either running around or binge TV-watching.  And of course, cooking and eating.  So far, so good. And, before you read any further...he is the perfect guest, he's family, I do my thing and don't stress. All reflections in this blog came to me as - yes - Roxy threw up.

Along with the college girls comes Isis, the college kitty.  She's about six months old and cute as can be.  She's gotten much bigger since leaving here in August.  I no longer have to block the spindles on the upstairs overlook for fear that she will wiggle through and fall to the first floor, as she did in July.  She has her own opinion about where she wants to go and which other animals she likes.  Basically, it's nobody.

Now to be fair, the other animals either hate her or want to play too rough.  (55-lb dog vs. six-month-old kitten, you know?)  So everybody is walking around all stressed out.  Except maybe Gordon, the big dog, he only wants to play! I wish it were easier and faster to say to animals: "You're in this together, now let's be nice to each other!"   It occurred to me, just after Roxy lost her breakfast this morning, that the last time she did that was when Isis was here.  My cat gets stressed and throws up!  I know, gross. 

But how different is that from any of us that are hosting or visiting over the holiday, and have our routine interrupted?  Do we embrace it or does it just make us a little sick or even ruin our day?  I personally embrace change of routine on my terms.  For example - yes, I will have kolaches for breakfast one morning, but it's back to the cereal for me after that! I love people being around, having fun, especially if they are the kind of people that I can say "Do your thing, I'm going in here for a while!" 

I hope that all my friends and any other readers and find a way to enjoy and celebrate the disruption of routine that comes with holidays on their own terms.  My animal friends can't talk with each other and discover that they really don't have to stress.  Roxy is growling at Isis as I type this!  We can, however, be truthful about our feelings in a considerate way, and make non-routine days work nicely! Whoever you spend your holiday with, you and those people are a united front against the sadness, heartbreak and grief in the world.  Laugh together, cry together, gorge on that meal together......Together.  And no throwing up.  (at least, not from stress!)  Happy Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for all of you.

Treasure Box Day 11/16/13

There he sat, at the front of his row.  A little five-year-old boy.  Blond hair, cute as a button.  Because he was at the front, the other kids couldn't see what he was doing.  His eyes shut tightly, his lips mouthing unintelligible words and his hands clasped together with only knuckles showing.......he was praying.  My heart melted at the same time I laughed out loud with delight.  I didn't tell everyone, I simply enjoyed the moment.  You see, it was Friday;  time for me, the teacher, to select the treasure box winners.  Little boy only wanted a toy truck or a plastic bug.  And yes, he was praying HARD for it!

You see, as the 'ruler' of my classroom, I employ some 'tricks of the trade'.  I had told the same little boy on Wednesday that he was having a WONDERFUL week, and that I could tell he was trying to get the treasure on Friday.  The power of suggestion and dollar store goodies goes a long way in my little kingdom.  I must clarify one thing:  little boy is not a troublesome kid.  He is also not perfect.  He is a regular little boy.  He knows that he talks when he shouldn't sometimes, and that he stuck his tongue out at a friend once.  He is.....normal. And once in awhile, normal wins.

I love the hope that was expressed by this happening.  I love the balance in this world.  On the same Wednesday that I praised little boy, I had a horrible morning.  I needed a regular blood test, the kind where you have to not eat after midnight.  No problem in the evening.  BIG problem in the morning.  If I don't get my coffee and Cocoa Krispies, I don't function well.  Yes, every day, without fail, coffee and a bowl of Cocoa Krispies.  Since I was ten. (Well, not the coffee...) So I grouchily skipped breakfast and headed out early Wednesday morning for the lab, knowing there were loads of drive-thrus between the lab and work.  About halfway there - BOOM!!  Someone ran into the back of my car.  No coffee, no cereal, and now, rear-ended.  We pulled over, took a look - not bad at all - he gave me all his info, there was a baby in his car.....he was nice, I was nice, and I left and headed to the lab.  Offering my arm was easy compared to skipping breakfast and getting hit!  As I left the lab and headed for the drive-thru, I got a message on my phone.  A message from a dear, far-away friend.  It just said "Good Morning! You've been on my mind this morning...hope you have a great day! love and hugs!"  I cried.  I knew I needed to head straight to work, no down time to 'shake off' the events of the morning before teaching my large groups of darlings.  And with that message, I was reminded that so many people out there are thinking about me and praying for me.  It's the other thing, besides the precious little children, that give me the hope and the balance. 

When we pray for, think about and encourage each other, we are storing up treasure in a much more important treasure box than the one in my classroom. I have been more aware, since my tragedy, of the sending of a card, or the sharing of some words of comfort.  I'm not perfectly batting .1000, but I'm trying to reach out more.  You see, little boy actually earned his treasure (yes, he got picked!) through the whole week.  His 'prayer' was adorable, but his constancy of behavior won me over.  I appreciate the constancy of encouragement that I get right now.  Whether it's in the form of notes, words, smiles, conversations.....or prayer; I love you and thank you for balancing my days.  And, along with little treasure boy, every now and then I can raise my fist and say "YES!" .  Because I'm going to make it.

How Gratefulness Fits 11/3/13

I saw a couple of posts on November 1st.  "I am thankful for..."  Some even included the "30 days of thankfulness" challenge.  It's a great exercise, coming up with something different and not necessarily the same cookie-cutter sayings.  Some of the ones I read are quite amusing.  I considered trying it, but I just can't.  It's not that I don't have so much for which to be grateful.  It's just that I; 1) am afraid to commit to anything not required right now and 2) am afraid that rooting around in my brain for something new every day will dredge up anger and hopelessness instead of thankfulness.

I am probably one of the most grateful people in the world this year.  Yes, I am a widow.  But, as my widow friend Ann says (about herself, and I am in agreement about me), I am in better shape than 90% of any other widows.  He left us in good shape financially and that enables me to face the rest of life, even if it is without him.  I don't know what shape I would be in if that were not the case.  I don't even like to think about it.  He left us the greatest gift he could by being smart with financial planning, and for that I am repeating "thank you, thank you so much" in my head at all times.

I am so grateful for my family. My precious girls have stepped up and shown themselves to be determined to do well in school and help out when necessary by working also.  My Mom and Dad are there whenever I need them, as are my sisters. Scott's family is still my own - they check on me and let me know I still belong with them.  I am grateful for my "family of friends" (sorry, Peter Frampton, I had to borrow that!), the ones that make sure I get out and do things and don't become a hermit, and the ones that take the time at work to stop, talk a minute, be there at special events - I am surrounded by wonderful, smart, kind people.

I am grateful for my job.  Even though I get ready every morning in an empty house, and make sure I turn off everything before I leave, because nobody else is there, within an hour or so I'm in a noisy, boisterous, mostly happy crowd of children.  They are funny, they are smart, they are like sponges when I find the right presentation of my subject (or any other item up for discussion!)  You know how you tear your cuticle, or get a paper cut on your fingertip?  And then when you put a Band-Aid on there kind of tight, it doesn't hurt as much?  That's how I feel during the school day.  I feel as if there's a tight Band-Aid around the pain and it simmers down and lets me teach and enjoy my little darlings.

At home, the Band-Aid feeling kind of disappears, but there are four lovely creatures that do their best to annoy soothe me.  How did we ever end up with four pets?  Cuddles, Marylebone, Roxy and Gordon are the light of my home life.  If you do have pets, then you know that their personalities are individual and adorable.  Some days, I know I have to get out of bed, only because Cuddles has to have her thyroid medication. When I get home each day, the house is not empty.  I am greeted by loads of tail-wagging and meowing.  Some nights, when I can't sleep, both dogs snuggle close to me, whether I talk or cry.  And Roxy, well, Roxy just doesn't let anyone do anything she doesn't like, and insists upon them doing what she does like.  (In a very loud voice, of course.) Thank goodness, one of the things she does like is sitting on my lap and being my friend.

So, you see, I am extremely thankful.  I love the fact that America has a Thanksgiving Day, but even more, I love people that keep thankfulness in their hearts all year 'round. Thank you notes, Facebook messages and statuses, e-mails, phone calls, cards.......I'm not perfect, by any means, but I try. My friends do, too.  You, my friends, are welcome to show the social media world the 30 things you are thankful for each day this month - I enjoy reading them!  But I know you better than that.  I know that you are grateful for life and its blessings year-round.  As am I.