Retread Reminder

Or, how Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt Fell Off the Rocker to remind you to appreciate the people you love...

Long time, no see, ya'll.

Today's post is something of a re-tread, I've told part of this story on the blog before. I'm retelling it because: 

1. It's my one of my very favorite Deat stories.
2. It's timely.
3. I think this is a really important reminder, and
4. The story is almost entirely written already, so it's should be a quick and easy cut/paste... you know me, I'm all about the easy. Maybe this will renew my writing a bit. Day one of the new year and already a post in!

It all started with this blog post by an old friend from college about the Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie letter. I had read the "letter."  I suspected,  but didn't know it was a hoax, until this morning.

I'll give you a minute to read Falls' post. I"ll wait... Yes, I know he's a good writer, you can check out more of his stuff later.  (Cue waiting music)

So anyway, After reading HIS post, I sent him the following note, which is now doubling as today's blog post:

Re: today's Pitt-Jolie post.

I lived something similar. It began a few years before it became real. I didn't know he was sick. He didn't know he was sick (denial). All I knew was, he didn't seem to be holding up his end on the chores, I had grown resentful, and our marriage had grown listless. He didn't seem to appreciate me, and I certainly didn't appreciate him.

So, I went back the vows. The vows said "cherish". They didn't say, "unless you don't feel like it today." I tried a simple experiment. When he walked in the door after work, I acted like it was the greatest thing that happened to me all day, whether I "meant" it or not. Same thing if I came in after he did. I smiled; I fawned over him; I asked about his day and unrelentingly took his side... 

He responded. At first with a little confusion, but then as anyone would. Imagine knowing you are going home to someone who is not only glad, but THRILLED to see you and cares about everything that happened to you during the day... He walked in smiling and ready to give back what he was getting. Before 3 weeks had passed, I wasn't "acting" anymore. The minute he walked in WAS the best part of my day.

Fast forward to 2008. We were standing in the large mirror in the bathroom getting ready for yet another doctor appointment and his breathing was becoming ragged. I said "Honey, sit down, that's why the chair is in here."

He sat, frustrated after 7 months of dialysis and repeated hospital stays/visits, and tests of all kinds to see if he was fit for transplant. 

Disgusted, he said, "I want you to look at what I've been reduced to."

For some reason, anger flew all over me. I had been working so hard at being cheerful and finding the blessings along this journey. I was rushing to come up with a positive, and comically enough, I spat the first one I could think of at him: 

"(Insert full name, the one you only use when you're REALLY mad, here)! You better jump back and count your blessings! For one thing, you have a wife who absolutely worships the ground your walk on!"

He looked up in the mirror and grinned, "I do, don't I?"

He died before the month was out. 

I can't tell you how much I cherish that moment. I am so blessed to have not one regret, nothing left unsaid. I know, he knew.

So, the Pitt-Jolie story? 

Yeah. Let that sucker go viral as it can, if only one more wife and/or one more husband may learn the value of how the cherish vow REALLY works.

Today's Date Says It All

I write the date a lot for work. Every time I wrote it today, I couldn't  help but pause, just for a second.

I remembered how it felt that day... 10 days before our first little girl was born... looking at my belly and thinking: what kind of world are we bringing this baby into?

I just watched some tribute videos and I'll admit, I shed a few tears.

Still, it turned out to be a decent world after all... you just have to know how to choose where to look, and where to focus.



*Yeah, yeah I've been on hiatus for awhile. See, I went out and got a REAL job, and it takes time.. I've been writing the explanation post in my head for a couple days. Gimme a few more.

Five Years In

Five years.

Deat died five years ago, February 23, 2008.

In some ways, it doesn't seem so far in the past. When I look at what's changed between then and now, it seems like a long, long time. P.D. and B.B. aren't 6 and 2 years old anymore; they're 11 and 7. My youngest is older, now, than my oldest was, then. 

I've been building up toward this post for several weeks; unsure of what I wanted to say but sure that I needed to say SOMETHING. I decided to include an inventory similar to one I've used with clients to see if those ideas lead somewhere interesting. They did for a bit, but it still took me 3 more days to finally finish.

Family - Deat and I hoped to foster a sense of "all for one and one for all" in our family culture. It's hard to be objective, but I like to think of us as a tight little team. I think the girls understand that we depend on each other, and we each have to contribute to make this thing run smoothly. I think in some ways the adversity probably bonded us a bit tighter from necessity. I will admit, I still wish the girls' had the benefit of Deat's life perspective to compare and contrast with mine as they decide for themselves where their values and priorities lie. Luckily, I have a pretty good memory and share as much of who he was with them as I can.

As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.

Friendships and Leisure Activities - In my married life: Deat was my very best friend; Sabrina filled most any of the gaps in between... not to mention that the girls were small and there just wasn't room or time for outside socializing.

Five years later: Over time, God has blessed us with a tight support network of friends to hang with. In just the past year we've been to several cookouts, taken a group trip to the Knoxville Zoo, a group trip to the aquarium in Gatlinburg, went to and hosted Christmas parties, hosted a five-family yard sale, had several get-togethers with just the Ladies and other get-togethers for the whole families, both here and at others' homes, had overnight guests from out of town twice, had  Theatre Babies coming over for dinner, participated and performed in a few plays.

The common theme of all these activities?  Lots of love and laughter. I can't imagine being more blessed than we are.

Health/Exercise - See previous post

Work/Career/Education - Big changes there. In February 2008 I was in my 9th year as a membership representative for the nation's largest small business lobby. I signed up new members through cold calling; renewed existing members through delivery of an annual progress report. I had a large territory that extended into several counties. And I soon realized I had no more desire to get out of the truck and actually DO my job than the man in the moon.

Part of the problem was that I traditionally gave a very folksy pitch that included anecdotes about the things my husband would say. I didn't know how to adjust it to take Deat out of it. Add to that plain old grief and situational depression; I didn't have much desire to talk to anyone; much less about the politics that were often of more interest to Deat than to me.

I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.

Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.

Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.

With that in mind, I do want to share a bit about the shoes I wear and what they mean to me:

1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.

Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.

2. My life doesn't need "fixing." I don't need a husband. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I don't need a substitute father for my girls. If I need help, I ask for it. Our gang of friends includes some really fantastic examples of upstanding faith-filled men who look out for us. I also have an awesome brother and brothers-in-law. I have plenty of models to help me show the girls how a good man conducts himself so they'll know when they're old enough to start evaluating their own potential suitors. (And with that bunch of fellas looking out for my girls, I feel sorry for the first guy to come calling!)

For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.

3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past  five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.

Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.

At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.

To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:

"It's (still) a wonderful life!"

Sister Love, or, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home from the E.R.

Today I got a phone call at work --  P.D.(age 10) in hysterics. "Maaaaa-maaaa" was just about the only word I understood. I managed to decipher that B.B. (her 6 year old sister) had been hurt.

Somehow, as my breathing began to go shallow and my blood pressure began rising, I was able to maintain the presence of mind to discern that B.B., the injured one, was NOT crying. I tried to calm P.D. and asked her to put Ms. Marjorie on the phone. Apparently B.B. and P.D. were in a tussle when B.B. let go, fell backward and hit her head on a piece of furniture.

From my own days as an E.R. frequent flier, I remembered that even with a minor injury, scalps bleed a lot. I asked Ms. Marjorie to check and see if it was a gaping wound, and she reported that it was not, so I didn't worry. It was close to the end of the day and I'd be leaving soon anyway.

Came home, checked it out, it didn't look bad so I started the night routine. After B.B.'s bath, I checked it again and noticed that it wasn't a scrape, as Ms. Marjorie and I had first surmised, but actually a cut with just enough of a gap to require a trip to the hospital. Sigh. Of course B.B. was scared and protested, but I assured her that while it would hurt some, it wouldn't hurt for very long. That seemed to reassure her.

When we arrived in triage, the nurse informed me that she'd need a couple staples, but that with the newer numbing gels and techniques, it wouldn't even hurt. What a relief! P.D. and I sat in our waiting cubicle in the E.R., laughing and playing math games with B.B. to distract her.

Unfortunately, the nice nurse was WRONG. It did hurt. If you've been following this very long, you know P.D. (the one in tears) is the sensitive one; B.B. is Momma's Precious Little Monster.**  B.B. does not go down without a fight. It took five of us to hold her down for the second of the 2 staples. P.D. had to leave the room, she couldn't watch.

Soapbox moment: I learned this from my dear Daddy: 


Don't EVER tell a child something won't hurt if it will.

Lying about it just teaches the child that you can't be trusted. B.B.'s hurt feelings about being lied to, then held down, lasted way longer than the pain of the actual staples. She cried, and cried, and cried... and cried some more. 

Finally, as we were leaving I offered her a bribe distraction to help her calm down. 

Conversation on the way home:

B.B.: (sniffling) You're still the best Momma in the world.

Me: Really? Why?

B.B.: Because you said I could have ice cream if I calmed down. I sound really calm, don't I, Momma?

Me. Yes, you do.

B.B.: Sissy's really calm. I think she should have something special, too.

How could I refuse? :)

** B.B., if you are reading well enough that you can read this post, all I have to say about the comment with the asterisk is, "Well, you WERE!"

Jerks Need Not Apply

Remember way back when I said I was ready to date again? Well, uh, hmm... they still aren't knocking down my door. As much as it pains me to admit it,* I'm not quite as cute at 41 as I was at 27.

Not that I mind. I have a meaningful job, great friends, and two beautiful little girls that fill my world with love and laughter. When God decides the time it right, it will happen. For now I'm content with my life as-is.

Besides, the more stories I hear from single/divorced friends, not to mention clients, the happier I am that the stress of "a relationship" isn't part of my realm. I'm not hearing about a wealth of good men out there. Even the M.C. has mentioned that it seems that a disproportionate number of our clients (particularly the women) seem to be "stuck" in relationships where they aren't supported, valued or appreciated. I remember falling prey to dating partners like that a time or two myself back in the day.

I've pondered how (besides just being blessed) I was fortunate enough to have been married to a man like Deat. I've jokingly said that two months after his death I elevated him to sainthood and I conveniently forgot every single flaw he had... but compared to the men I've been hearing about, he really was a saint! How did I get so lucky and others didn't? I've further wondered: when the time comes, how will I teach P.D. and B.B. to guard their precious hearts from the "playas" of the world?

Today, a friend of mine posted a link to this article and I think it offers part of the answer. The following is from Darlene Brock at the Grit and Grace Project. You'll find a link to the blog section of her site over in the "I Read These" list on the right.

If He Acts like a Jerk… he probably is

We live in a world where there must be a Masters Degree in Excuses for Bad Behavior.  That reality is evidenced in the relationship single females have with their male counterparts.  It seems the female is constantly seeking the reason her male counterpart acted the way he did when the answer is often so simple.

He says he didn’t call because his phone battery died.  When really he went out with his buddies and you were the last thing on his mind.  He’s so sorry he was an hour late the traffic was really bad.  Instead of I just didn’t think you would be upset that I had to master one more level on my video game before I could find my keys to get in the car.

Then the classic I am afraid of commitment because I was hurt so badly by someone else.  Instead of I have every intention of seeing everything I can get from you while making a minimal amount of effort.

Ladies, what is wrong with this picture???????  We must not assume that all men make excuses, some are caught in traffic, have let their cell phone battery die or have been hurt, these are life realities.  But let’s not assume they are telling the truth either.  Especially when you are hoping to build a long lasting relationship with a repeat offender.  They must earn your respect and trust the same way you must earn theirs.

Simple common courtesy - call when you say you will, arrive on time - just basics should be expected.  The exception to that behavior needs to be occasional not recurrent.  It doesn’t matter how cute he is or how many flowers he brings to prove he’s sorry if all he can offer is an excuse in answer to the “what happened?” question.   This indicates a personality that will display unacceptable behavior in every area of life.

Simple moral to the story ladies, if he acts like a jerk……he probably is.  Don’t accept his excuses and expect more from him than his lack of even a little common courtesy.  If all ladies would hold men to this standard they would step up.  They would work for that relationship because they had to.  They need to work for it.  They would be better men worthy of women that expect better men.  Worthy of women who themselves seek to be better women.  And you wouldn’t be left waiting by the phone hoping for a call.

Simple and succinct, but it speaks volumes. In six short paragraphs, she conveyed a message that so many young girls forget or never learned... heck, a lesson that so many grown women need to understand. I'll be making copies of it for some of my clients.

Reading this reminded me of the attitude I maintained during my dating days. I gave this "speech" to more than one guy, and when I think back to the heartaches and heartbreaks... they came when I allowed myself to settle for less.

So you say you want to date me, huh? Well let's get something clear. While I love a friendly competition, in a relationship I don't compete: not with other women, not with alcoholism, not with drugs, not with sports or your buddies. I understand you'll want to spend time with your friends, I can take time with my friends, too. But I won't tolerate being treated inconsiderately, period.  

I'm not unreasonable, I just ask that you do what you say you will do. If you said you'd call, call. Don't be late or break a date without a good reason. I understand that circumstances come up, and sometimes it can't be helped. If we had plans but you can't be where you said you'd be, make a phone call so I'm not sitting around worrying and wondering where you are. I'll treat you with respect and expect the same. I will not tolerate less.

I don't compete because I don't have to. If I can't win, I won't play. It's that simple. If I have to win your time, your attention, your consideration, quite frankly, I'm not interested... because that tells me you aren't, either.

 As Darlene Brock points out, simple common courtesy is not too much to expect, but when we accept less; less is what we get.

Is it possible that speech might send a guy I was interested in packing? Well, yeah, it was designed to! I figured if he was interested enough to stick around after that speech, he might be worth my time. It's funny to me now. but simple courtesy was one of the things that helped put Deat on his pedestal.

When the time comes, I think I'll be grilling P.D. and B.B with this speech until they can quote it verbatim. I realize they will probably date different boys with a host of other issues, but hopefully this will weed out a few of them.

Meanwhile, just in case some suitor comes to call, I think I'll brush up on it, too.

*Sarcasm alert

Cleaning It Up for Fun and...

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

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

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

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

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

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

See that hole? 

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

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

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

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

The Culprit? NOT ME!!!

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

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

Ahem!

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

I'm going to buy a toilet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five Minute Chocolate Cake

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

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

Put 4 tablespoons of this in the mug

Then 4 tablespoons of this

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

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

Add 3 tablespoons of this

Then 3 tablespoons of this...
Stir stir stir

Now 3 tablespoons of these, stir stir stir

Just a splash of this, stir, stir stir

All stirred up it looks like this!

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

And growing

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

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

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

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

Enjoy!


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

Dealing with Frustration in a Therapeutically and Nutritionally Sound Manner

Arrrgh!

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

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

(The) MC: How do you do that?

Me: What?

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

Me: I go right back to it, why?

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

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

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

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

Aaaand speaking of frustration and impatience... 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh, no. No they don't.

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

Animal Crackers? Wrong brand. Cheese Nips? None. Teddy Grahams? Wrong size package. Nabisco 100 Calorie Wheat Thin Packs? No multi-packages containing only the Wheat Thins, but variety packs with the Wheat Thins and 2 kinds that weren't on the list. That's okay, the 702 KAR 6:090 guidelines are right here on the list, only 3 main criteria to worry about: Sugar Content, Percent of Calories from Fat, and Sodium Content. Let me check on the back of these other two bad boys... at only 100 calories they gotta pass, right?

Fail.

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

Chex Morning Mix snack packs? No.

Single serving packages of:

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

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

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

None of these were baked chips, as required by 702 KAR 6:090 ... Booooooo.

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

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

I'm exhausted. By this time it's almost 6:30. Yet, how could I send my baby daughter, on her very first turn for snack-day, to school with a snack she didn't even like? That would just be cruel! Yet, in adherence with the nutritional wisdom of the 1990 Kentucky General Assembly, I HAD to comply with 702 KAR 6:090, right?

We made a different selection.



This was the one other item at the L-town Kroger that met the criteria espoused by 702 KAR 6:090, and therefore, made it to the "acceptable" list:

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

*Sigh* Only in Kentucky....

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

New Site... Together We Can Grow a Garden

Amy "Sweetness" Matalka

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

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

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

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

Go forth and Zumba your little brains out, Pollyanna!

Survival tool

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








Observations and Addictive-Thinking Randomness

1. The cigarette is still a much more efficient nicotine delivery system than the gum... you can "dose" yourself much more effectively to your craving. That said, I don't want a cigarette.
    
2. I don't want one because I'm finally out of the "habit" of smoking. I'm still addicted to nicotine, but I'm out of the habit. I have stepped down from 4mg gum to 2mg gum. Smoke-free is an accomplishment, but I have no illusions that my addiction is gone.
   
   
3. The nicotine gum you buy now isn't like the old kind (rubbery and gross). I'm not a huge gum fan, but since it delivers my nicotine, I'm liking it more.
   
   
4. It's interesting that I'm starting this at the same time I'm starting my addictions counseling internship. For example: One of the things you learn when studying addictions is that for the addict, the physical acts surrounding the addiction start to stimulate the same centers of the brain as the drug itself does: the act of procuring the drug, the acts preparing to use the drug. i.e.making the buys; laying out the paraphernalia; for a cocaine addict, making the lines; for an IV user, tying off their arm.
   
   Anyway, the day I bought Kermit, I forgot to bring any of my gum with me. After 3-4 hours at the dealership I started getting antsy, the feeling I'd have when I'd normally ask around if anyone had a cigarette... so I asked around if anyone had any nicotine gum. One guy said no, but he had some plain gum... (gum that happened to be the same size, shape, and flavor as my nicotine gum.) As soon as I started chewing it I felt better, even with no nicotine. Weird, huh?
   
   
5. I still have some of that sardonic bitterness I had when I first quit. However, all those things reformed smokers annoyingly use to try to convince you to quit, telling you about how great it is to be a non-smoker? Um, well, they are starting to be "real" to me.
   
   For example, I can REALLY smell the lilacs in my backyard now. Food does taste better. I can really smell smoke on other people now and I'm relieved that my clothes don't smell like that anymore. I really have more energy to get things done around here (either that, or I just need something to do with my hands since I don't have a cigarette in them, but that works, too).
   
   Gee, I hope I don't start sounding that annoying. I probably will, (Okay, I just did. Anyway...) but I'm already pretty annoying in other ways, adding one more way will be okay if it keeps me smoke-free.
   
   
6. The "coughing up gross stuff" you get warned about? It's not as bad as I've been told, at least not so far. It doesn't happen that often and it does remind me why I don't want to smoke anymore.
   
   
7. Fighting the weight gain is going to suck. I think I've gained 7 pounds!
   
   Ah well, I've come farther with not smoking than I ever imagined I would, let's see how I can do with not eating. Hey, I could start a good exercise regimen now. At least I won't lose my breath so easily.
   
   (Okay, that last note of positive-thinking was annoying, even to me.)

Special Post For My Theatre Babies

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

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

Notes to the Theatre Babies Who Read My Blog:

1. The listings on the Theatre Babies page are in no particular order, except that the babies with my name on their birth certificates came first. These are the two who will be stuck with caring for me in my old age, so I have to butter them up.
   
   
2. I love you guys equally!!! (Though, I might be persuaded to actually name a favorite for $100,000.00 in small, unmarked bills.)
   
   
3. This was really hard to do! If anybody thinks of someone I left out, or has a last initial for anyone I couldn't remember, PLEASE message me with it. If you like, you can put it in the comments here, I'll fix it.
   
   
4. Yes, I know I included the names of kids who don't come to our theatre anymore and for whatever reasons, have chosen to wish the Gusto ill and/or to speak poorly about it. 
   
   Bottom line, while each of those kids was with us, I loved him or her and still do. While we might never be all together again, the healing has to start somewhere. I'm not going to stop caring about a kid because of his or her choices, or even pretend I would. I wouldn't do that to any of you.
   
   I'm an adult. (Though I fake it pretty good for you guys.) When you're an adult and grow to love a kid who isn't technically your own, you'll "get it".
   
   
5. If you have questions or complaints about this list, please know you can certainly come to me and I'll listen, and explain as best I can. I only ask that you be polite, as I would be to you. (Besides, I haven't had a cigarette in over 72 hours. Getting rude with Kelly while she's on the prowl for a head to bite off is not the best idea!)
   
   
6. LOVE LOVE LOVE you guys!

bin Laden's Dead and I Want a Cigarette

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ARG!

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

Tonight, my heart hurts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guest Blog Spot: The REAL spirit of Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://www.questcommunity.com/

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

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

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

God bless you all and have a very Merry Christmas!

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

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

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

Dwelling and "Fear"

Two years ago today life as I knew it turned upside down.

Two years ago yesterday, Deat went to Dr. Kavanaugh's office in S-town for preliminary blood work for an ear surgery that never happened. He arrived home from the doctor's office and quickly changed into his uniform and headed back out to work at the jail.

Not long after he left, a lady from Dr. K's office called and said there were indications in Deat's blood work that his kidneys weren't functioning properly and that she had tried to reach Dr. Pratt (our family doctor) but was unsuccessful. I don't remember how I knew, but I told her Dr. Pratt would be out of town that week. She went on to say that Dr. K wanted to refer him to a nephrologist (kidney specialist) there in S-town and would we mind if she went ahead and made an appointment for Deat. No problem. She'd call me back with the appointment.

Ten minutes later she called back to say that his appointment was for 9 a.m. the following day. WHAT? In ten minutes she made an appointment with a specialist for very first thing the very next day?

"Um Ma'am, what did you find in my husband's bloodwork?"

She explained that a normal BUN level runs around 10... Deat's was 98. A high creatinine level is 1.3... Deat's was 4.8. I called Deat, then I called Mom.

"Kelly, I think maybe you better go to this doctor's appointment with him, okay?"

Deat drove us over in his car the following morning. I don't remember what we talked about but I remember where we parked. Being my anal self, I took a notebook with me, and took notes as Doctor Matthews talked. The following is an excerpt from the "Deat Updates" I sent to our family and friends:

Dr. Matthews spent quite some time asking us about Deat's health history, and carefully explained to us that Deat was suffering from kidney insufficiency. Serious, but not life threatening, very treatable. He said he wanted to admit Deat to the hospital immediately in hopes that some intensive intravenous steroid therapy might "kick-start" his kidneys into functioning again. He explained that if they only regained a small amount of function, that we could go ahead and start the process for a kidney transplant and hopefully avoid dialysis.

From his office we went directly to the hospital... I think I called Deat's parents from there. As soon as Deat was settled in, I had to leave to make arrangements, and dang it my cell phone was almost dead so I remember I went to the local Radio Shack and bought a charger (funny the goofy things you remember) so I could call my Mom and my sister Jeannie was at Mom's house so I spoke to her also.

I remember when I told Jeannie Deat's creat and BUN levels, she said "And he was WALKING AROUND?" Mom also told me she was pretty certain that they would admit him when I had told her the levels the day before, but she didn't want to scare me so that was why she had told me to go with him.

I don't remember much else about that day... I know I went to L-town and back to S-townt (maybe to get Deat some things for the hospital, probably) and back to L-town to be with the girls. I remember noting that they had an excellent coffee shop at the hospital and I would make use of it. I don't remember if I had family at the house that night, but I'm pretty sure I did... but I don't remember if it was Mom, and/or Jeannie, and/or my in-laws. I think I was on auto-pilot... so many i's to be dotted and t's to be crossed, and the surge of adrenaline that comes from fear of the unknown.

I know I drove back to the hospital in my truck early the next morning, and that around 10:30 Deat looked at me and said "Listen, there's nothing you can do here, and I know you have renewals to run here in S-town, go out and get some work done," so I complied.

After I got off the hospital campus, I called my friend Kevin P. Kevin is an NFIB rep in Georgia, and one of the most Godly men I know. I jokingly say when I grow up I want to be just like Kevin... when he starts talking about the Lord, you just want to jump up and yell, "YAAAAY GOD!!!!"

When he answered, he said he was in a member's office waiting for the member to come in to meet with him but he had a few minutes.

"Kevin, I need a prayer warrior."

"What's up?"

I quickly summarized the events of the past couple days... and that was all Kevin needed.

He began "Father God, you said where ever to come together in your name and agree you would answer, well Kelly and I agree..." and launched into a heartfelt and inspirational prayer. (In a member's office, waiting for the member to come in... did I mention that I LOVE Kevin Parker?)

I don't remember all of it, but I do remember his saying, "And Father God, give Kelly peace," and it was immediate. Right at that second, every bit of tension fell from my shoulders and I knew God was with me and that He would get me through whatever was coming. And God did, and God has, and God will continue to do so.



Yesterday I had decided that I would write the above to be my blog entry for today. I checked my Facebook earlier and noticed I had been "tagged" in one of those "fill in the blanks" notes over there, but thinking I may have already filled that one out, I quickly went through my notes to check. I found an entry in my notes from earlier this year that qualifies as a "blog post" and since I wanted all of my entries to be "here" I decided to copy/paste it. Strange how that works... I needed to be reminded of what I said "then" today.

So here's that entry:

February 3, 2009, 8 p.m.

FEAR

I noticed in a friend's notes today that she listed her greatest fear as "losing someone I love." My immediate thought was to try to think of words to help quiet that fear for her. Fear is a horrible feeling, and I know that particular fear very well. I've been saying for months now that fear is wasted energy – after all, my fear, losing my husband and our marriage, actually happened; but I'm surviving; I'm here; I'm okay. How could I share that with her in a way that made sense?

Pondering this question made me realize I needed to adjust my position on fear. I began realizing some of the reasons that I am better off than I might have been. I am free of so many of the burdens other widows carry, and fear was part of the answer.

Several years ago, Deat and I came to a place where neither one of us was particularly happy in our marriage. We had no major complaints, and we had decided from the beginning that divorce was quite simply, never going to be an option to consider. During that time, the idea of spending the rest of our lives on the road we were on was a scary prospect too.

I was blessed in that fear; it motivated me to seek ways to improve our marriage. We decided to get back to the basics: The vows said "and forsaking all others," so we learned how to really apply that in our lives. We made a conscious point to put one another first. They said "love, honor and cherish" and we noted that they did not say "unless you don't feel like it.' so we made a point to be kinder to one another... to find kind words to say about the things we appreciated in one another, even when the things we didn't appreciate so much seemed glaring. Those simple steps made a huge difference in how we viewed one another and our marriage. It's hard to hold grudges against someone who is making a point to tell and show you how he loves you.

The other fear: losing my husband to Lupus. I knew when we married that it could begin flaring again. After 8 smooth years, the fear had subsided somewhat, but with his hospitalization in July 2007, that fear returned one hundred-fold. As that journey began, I sought every avenue I could to prevent that fear from happening... I kept a database of all his medications (as many as 12-14 at a time); I kept every lab organized in a folder; I kept a calendar of all his appointments, attended every doctors' appointment, kept fastidious notes on every word every doctor (He had 8) said to us. I prayed, we prayed, I prayed some more. In the last weeks, I believed he would get better, but as he became weaker and more miserable, I was more afraid that he wouldn't.

In the end, (February 23, 2008) none of these things kept my husband alive. His autopsy showed that the one detail I "thought" I had missed would not have changed the outcome. He may have lived for a brief while longer, but his suffering would only have been worse. In the end, my fear was realized. So for some time afterward, I believed that fear was pointless... it didn't change anything. Losing him, as I expected, has hurt worse than anything I have ever experienced.

However, there are so many more sorrows that I was able to avoid. I know with certainty that Deat died knowing how much I loved him... there were no words left unsaid. I know with certainty that I did everything I possibly could to help him heal. I have no regrets in either of those areas; I have no "if only" questions to nag at me. I know that God will care for the girls and me always, just as He did during Deat's illness... in my fear, and Deat's, we turned to Him and learned where true peace lies. I know Deat is now well, happy and whole, free from the myriad of ways his body betrayed him, and he was able to let go of this life with the same assurance that God would care for us in his absence.

I've wondered these many months why God would allow us to have an emotion like fear, in it's most basic form it seems to be one of the most terrible of all emotions. It can paralyze you, if you allow it. However, I wouldn't know any of these things I mentioned if I had not been so afraid. I've decided that fear is a good thing if it spurs you to change your habits, if it motivates you to action.

So, that's my message for my friend who harbors a similar fear to the one I carried all those months, and to any of you who carry it with you now. Act on that fear, even if your situation doesn't make the prospect loom close. Let it remind you to appreciate the little things in your spouse, your children, your parents, your siblings, your friends. Make sure you tell them the things they need to know. Use that fear to protect those who need protecting, and to let go of those who need to be let go.

Clarification:

I had a friend tell me my blog confused him a bit, so to clarify... the biological dads who walk away I am referring to in my "resentment rant" are also known as "deadbeat dads." I know several men that I think highly of who, while not married to their childrens' mothers, still do their best to be excellent dads. Them I don't resent.

It's these men who father children and then cease participating in their childrens' lives and fail to contribute financially that make me sick. If I ran into one on "One of Those Nights" (see earlier blog) I'd most likely break my pool cue over his head, and beat him unconscious.

Better Wayne?

(Smoothing shirt, climbing down off soapbox)

May 14, 2009 - Deciphering

Why do I try so hard to decipher the happenings around me? I study the flow of life like a scientist, watching the ups and downs as though I could find some way to measure it, create a scale for predictability. I search for clues, "If I just had the right variables in my database..."

I watch my subconscious maneuver and collect, convinced that if I catch all the signs, I can prevent ever feeling blindsided... or ever feeling hurt again. If I just keep a handle on all the information, I can be as kind and giving and trusting as is my nature without ever regretting. I go back and look... I go over and over the things that led up to each wound "Man, I won't do THAT again!"

But then, seemingly from nowhere, another blow gets landed... ever the more painful because I was convinced my logic was sound. A+B is SUPPOSED to equal C, right? If I worked for what I wanted... in my homelife, in my career, in my relationships, I'm supposed to HAVE what I sought, right?

This morning, B.B. (now 3) wanted ice cream for breakfast, and was very upset when Momma made her throw the ice cream sandwich she stole from the freezer away. She became even more upset when, after she fished it out of the trash, Momma grabbed it and flushed it down the commode. She cried and wailed "I want ice cream! I want it Momma! I want...." (Sound familiar?).

"B.B., you can't have it, you're not going to have it, its time to think about something else"

Then later, "Momma, I don't WANT to go to little school! I don't want to! I don't!"

"B.B., you have to, it's going to happen, so we might as well talk about something else."

I was reflecting on B.B. and my struggles after I dropped her off this morning... her turmoil-filled morning. I smiled remembering her happy grin as I left. "Bye Mommy! See you later!"

Um, Gee, Kel, maybe YOU should practice what you preach.