Oh Hey! There's A Blog Here!

Yesterday I had a thought.  That thought led to more thoughts.  Those thoughts led to an entire inner dialogue.  That inner dialogue made me think of my blog.  Thinking of my blog made me realize I've totally abandoned the poor thing.

I look back at published posts and see all kinds of goodies.  Most frustrating, I see posts that were meant to be followed up with further posts to complete the stories I was trying to tell.  Apparently follow through isn't my strong suit.

SO, I can't promise anything, but I will say I'm hoping to try this again.  I love writing.  I love telling my stories and sharing my thoughts.  I just don't love sitting still long enough to do both.

What We Found Out About Our Stolen Car

This morning I was startled awake when my husband asked me where I’d parked the car.  I told him in the driveway, and he said it’s not there.

Our driveway is steep, and if the transmission were to fail, it would roll down to our neighbor’s back yard, so hubby went walking down there to see if that had happened.  On his way, he saw a car 5 doors down the street with its reverse lights on, but faint and not moving.  Turns out, that was our missing car.

The car was in reverse, but the engine dead.  There was not enough juice in the battery to start the engine, but the lights were on and dim.  The driver’s side door was open, as was the glove box and the center console.  Though it was in reverse, the car was pulled up so that the front tires were against the curb, but they were not turned.  The passenger side door had been opened and not closed properly.  The weird part was, the GPS was left on the dash, my cards were still under the mess on the floor, and there was a ring of decent value I’d left on the passenger seat.  All of this was still there.  I even begun to think it was a prank by God only knows who.  All I knew was I was FURIOUS. 

Just before the local PD arrived, I also remembered that last night our dog had been giving a low growl.  Not the kind that is freaking out like he does for wild life, but a warning growl that he gives when sometimes someone’s out in the street, which at 10 at night, around here the kids are sometimes out at the basketball court, so we didn’t really think much of it.  With a new battery in the car, and where the battery level was when we found it, the timeline now makes sense,

I kept trying to figure out why our car seemed to be the only one hit, and why they’d leave it where they did.

When PD did arrive, the guy was already tired, and explained it was going to be a long morning.  We were the second stolen car he was working on this morning, and he said he expects more.  I asked why that was, and he tells me:

Overnight a guy ran from PD.  They caught him on R Ave, across town from me.  When they found him, they found he had a backpack full of prescription medications with addresses from various points around town, including several from a block away from us. 

After PD left, I was walking back to the house to feed the kids, who were waking up, as Hubbster was trying to get the car to start, when I realized that there is another car, left in place, but rifled through three doors down from me.  That same house has another car on the street with the keys sitting out on the seat that was left untouched.   It would appear the rest of our things were left behind because he was looking for medications, and that he was just hitting every few cars as he went along, got to the end, and found ours an easy get away.  NO idea why he left it, except maybe either he saw the car seats and grew a conscience, or, with the passenger door being oddly opened, he may have not been alone, but realized that with my mess, there was no place for his buddy, and left it at that point.

Vacation 2012: Stop 1, Ocean City

   So travel along with me, will you?  We left on a Saturday morning for the Washington Coast.  Many people get confused, because when you think of any seaside state, you think of it as coast and inland.  My home has a view of salt water… and many think it’s coastal.  It isn’t.  I live in the sound, and my view is actually the Guemes Channel.  Actually, let me borrow this here image from this site, slightly edited for my ability to demonstrate, and I’ll show you.

  Okay, so we left our little corner of the world for the Washington Coast.  We love to stay at Ocean City State Park.  Last year we stopped there to visit family, and had a great experience with the park, so this year we decided to return.  We spent two nights there this year, in order to better spend some time getting to know the place better.

Leaving home

The drive out to Ocean City is really one of my favorite parts: a ferry ride, miles and miles of nothing but forest, a few small “blink and you miss it” towns here and there, and more wild flowers than I think I’ve ever seen in a drive anywhere else.  It’s about 2 ½ hours from our house, and a fantastic way to start off any of our south-bound by the coast trips. 

We arrived to find our site wonderfully large, and quite private.  In fact, the surrounding vegetation so effectively screened us in, that we thought our spot was going to be too small, until we stepped out of the car and looked around.  We had plenty of space for two tents, all of our gear, all five of our camp chairs, and still extra run around space for the kids.  The Princess loves to use nearly any open floor space as a dance floor…

Our first night in was mostly spent setting up camp, and going out shopping for some of the many forgotten things like condiments.  (Oopsie….)  We did foil pouch dinners and roasted marshmallows, and then hit the beach.  Last time we were here, we didn’t try to walk to the beach from the camp.  Instead we drove into Ocean Shores and onto the beach with the car.  I had no idea, though I do believe our family out there may have made mention, what a hike it was.  First a short trek through the woods, then this prairie like area, up a hill, and FINALLY you get the sand and the waves and the sunshine.  The Hubster and I sat on a piece of driftwood and let the kids go crazy in the sand with their buckets and their tools. 

Now, ever since I learned that Washington State has its very own rainforest (and a subsequent lesson in the difference between tropical and temperate rainforests) I’ve wanted to go visit.  In all actuality, I only thought we had one; the famous Hoh Rainforest.  Turns out that there are at least three.  Doesn’t matter, I’ve spent nearly 20 years wanting to set foot in the Hoh.  So we spent day two with the plan to drive over 2 hours each way to get my little big self to the Hoh.  It was a perfectly warm, sunshine filled day… and we got a late start.  *facepalm*  We had a wide detour to pick up some essentials I had forgotten and we couldn’t get locally which also derailed us for another couple of hours.  (Way to go, Mom.)  By the time we got to the Quinault Rainforest, we weren’t sure we’d make it as far as the Hoh. 

We did, however, stop in the Quinault for our picnic lunch, and a ½ mile trail hike through a section of the forest.  I am still fascinated with how much moss is all over the place in these things. 

Loaded back up in the car and continued north, singing along with The Monkees, Bob Segar, and James Taylor…. cracking jokes along the way of vampire hunting because we kept seeing signs to Forks.  We hit an odd foggy patch, just about 25 miles out of Forks, with no cell signal, and no blue sky, and the jokes got even more frequent.  ;-)  We got our laughs at the beaches with the ever so creative names… “Beach 1”, “Beach 2”, “Beach 3”, “Beach 4” and “Beach 5”.  Suddenly the sky opened up again, turned bright blue, the temps rose, and we discovered we were very, very close to the Hoh road... and made our turn as soon as we reached it.

I was in tears when we passed the sign saying we had entered the Hoh Rainforest.  It’s hard to explain, but as silly as it was, the simple fact that for nearly 20 years this was something I’d wanted to do but kept eluding me, and here I was, finally where I’d waited so long to be… just had me all emotional.   It was late in the day, so we knew we weren’t going to do much, but the simple fact that I was finally there… yeah.

As we pulled in, we saw a Ranger trying to help an Asian family with their car, so we stopped to help.  Their hatchback on their rented mini-van wasn’t closing.  The latch completely malfunctioned.  Luckily for them, we had picked up an extra clothesline, which we happily handed over and tied their hatch to a backseat.  I stood watching Robert secure the hatch, when one of the guys introduced himself to me… Carl out of Vancouver BC.  (Okay, so the idea of an Asian guy named Carl cracked me up.)  He was explaining to me that their luck had been terrible, they had wrecked their own car the day before, and now this rental was broken. 

Sadly we got there so late that the interpretive center was closed… and the weather was too hot to leave the dog in the car to hike the “Hall of Mosses” that I still want to get the chance to do, as no pets are allowed on those trails, but we still were thrilled to be there, and are already planning a better organized trip back.

That evening was a lovely night of putting our feet up around the campfire, a couple cold brews for the “adults”, and the night I learned how to use my Dutch oven to make cornbread.  We all slept like rocks, and made our preparations to strike camp the next day, bound for Oregon.



How the Princess Broke Her Tooth

   Our trip was incredible, but we had the one, I think important, point of contention.  And I want to write up a nifty essay of how great our week was, but the one thing is just so much its own story, that I am writing a post for it alone.  The story of Sun Lakes, and how my daughter lost a chunk of her tooth.

   There are two things I learned on this trip.  One, my tiny house is HUGE after a week in a car with three kids, a dog, and a grumpy hubby.  Two, while I tend to not be a huge fan of Oregon in general, I have to hand it to them, from what I saw on this trip, they take AMAZING care of their state parks… where Washington isn’t the worst out there, but has much work to do in this area. 

   Sun Lakes State Park is located in a surprisingly beautiful part of the state.  The Geology to the area is fascinating.  Near the foot of Dry Falls, it’s set inside a canyon and at the edge of Blue Lake.  It is hot and dry, very low humidity and very desert like.  Trees are few and far in between, and shade is a precious commodity.  Our campsite had morning shade, but for most of the day, there was no hiding from the sun and the 98+ degree temperatures, except to go for a drive in the AC or to go for a swim.  It sounds awful, but with careful planning, it’s well worth it.  It’s a popular area for dropping in a boat and going out for fishing or water skiing, and there is a variety of other things to do…. But that’s not the point to this story.  The point is, it’s a great area, well worth having a park located, but it’s sadly wasted by the management of the park itself. 

   The first day we arrived, it looked impressive.  The lady at the counter was kind and helpful.  We saw nothing out of the ordinary.  We saw the many sites full to the limit with campers, nearly every site with a truck hauling a boat, and the tables full of coolers…. We knew we were in for a campground of young folks, boats, and beer.  Next to us, on both sides, however, the sites were empty.  We left that evening for Grand Coulee City to check out the laser show on the dam.  (SOOOOO worth camping out for, BTW.)  When we came home, we still had one empty neighbor site.  We were rolling in well past quiet hours, so we made every effort to keep it quiet for the newbies.

   Two sites down on the other side was a large family, headed up by a guy named Mike.  They were Indian, and looked nearly Hispanic from the first glance.  (Sadly, that point is important later.)  Halfway across the park was several sites all packed with a huge group of, what we believe are, Russians of various ages, partying hard.  They partied loudly through the wee hours of the morning, and even when they finally quit, there were two voices loud as can be right next to us, at a bench in front of the ladies room, going through strange cycles of conversation, all in a foreign language.  It started with a booming yell, that startled me awake, and a following argument… cycled into a lecturing sounding conversation, worked into laughing, then crying, and back to yelling, and just kept doing this until 5 am.  No one around us got sleep, and later talking to other campers, we all had the same thoughts… this day and age, they confronting them was either a) going to drag someone else into the mess, or b) you just never know what the drunken idiots were carrying.  We also all agreed; none of us got any sleep.  And not once did a ranger come by to try to silence either ordeal. 

   The next morning, after I cooked up breakfast over a camp fire, I decided it was time to take the Princess and get our butts into the shower.  It is also important to note, there was only one shower, but no line.  All morning long, there was very minimal traffic to the shower, as in this heat and setting, most the girls were showering in the evening and hitting the lakes during the day, so the shower was wide open all morning long. 

   In Washington State Parks, showers cost 50 cents for 3 minutes.  (Oregon, showers were free…. Just sayin’.)  So we got our clothes at the ready in the dressing corner (supposed to be a dry area to keep your things) and lined up our toiletries.  It quickly became evident after depositing our coins, that the drain was clogged.  In fact, by the time our three minutes were up, the entire bathroom, including the 4 or 5 toilet papered, nasty, filthy toilet stalls were flooded by our one single shower… at least an inch deep.  I took the Princess over where there should have been dry land to try to get her dressed and get us out of there, embarrassed that we’d flooded the bathroom, and grossed out that even in shower shoes, we were standing in the lovely water. 

   So there we are, standing in a mucky swamp, nekkid except for our shower shoes, and I’m trying to figure out how to get a diaper and clothes on the Princess without drenching all of it as well, when she makes a move, slips on the slick floor, and goes face first into the bench.  It was immediately clear she’d broken a tooth and sunk it deep into her lip.  It wasn’t as bloody and terrifying in appearance as when the Littlest Prince had his incident, but was clearly not good either.  So there I am, trying to figure out how to now comfort a screaming three year old, AND get clothes on the both of us, while standing on slick tiles in a flooded bathroom, to get her out and to the site so I could get to the first aid kit.  I still don’t even know how I did it.  I just remember finally getting the clothes on, leaving all of our stuff behind, and as soon as I got to the door, yelling for the Hubby to get the first aid kit, NOW.  And later I learned that he stood there in a stunned and confused daze, but the Eldest Son caught on and did get the ball rolling.

   I got the Princess into a camp seat, and we learned that the instant ice pack in the first aid kit was a dud.  SO, we double bagged some of the dirty ice from the cooler.  (gotta do what you have to do, right?)  Eldest did a fantastic job keeping the Princess calm, snuggled with her, read books to her, and kept her comfortable for about an hour.  Once she was set, I went back and retrieved our items, and tried to track down the maintenance crew that kept rolling by in little John Deere carts… but were impossible to catch.  I finally gave up and walked my angry butt down to the front booth.

   The same young lady was working the registration desk, and was apparently the only person on duty with a brain in their heads.  She was quick to get on it.  She radioed the maintenance crew, who apparently didn’t know I could hear them object to having to go get work done, but she demanded they get to the booth immediately and speak to her.  When they arrived and saw me there, and were briefed, their answer was, “Oh we’ve known about that for a while now, but the shower was busy so we just decided to worry about it later”  (Remembering that I was camping directly across from the restrooms and was already fully aware that this is a false statement… there was very little traffic to the shower.)  As we spoke to other campers later, we learned they had been filing complaints about this same shower for days…. It took my daughter getting injured to finally get it fixed, and it was fixed in 10 minutes.

   Then the gal at the booth radioed the ranger on duty.  Apparently they have one ranger on duty between several parks, and he was on his way to Steamboat Rock Park, 20 minutes away.  She told me that Ranger Fulton (I believe that was the name) would need to get in touch with us and fill out a safety/incident report.  I let her know we weren’t going far, just to the visitor’s center, 5 minutes away, to see Dry Falls, and to the swimming part of the lake, right in front of her booth.  And true to that, we were at our site most of the entire day.  We saw the ranger drive by repeatedly, but never stopped to get the report.

   We did learn; however… remember the Indian family two sites down?  They had been fast asleep by the time we’d come back from the laser show, and were awakened by the partying and arguing just like the rest of us… but they got the tickets for it.  6 people all ticketed $150 each because the folks who complained heard foreign languages, saw a family that looked Mexican, and pointed their fingers at them.  The ranger, who couldn’t be bothered to make night rounds and resolve the issue right away, merely came by and issued tickets in the afternoon, but couldn’t find the time to get the safety report done.  It was a full 24 hours before we left the park for home, and never did get that report done.

   I wanted the documentation, because if her tooth turns out to be a bigger problem, I’m sending the bill to the state for their faulty maintenance…. But also to cover my ass if someone was to start asking questions of me.  For their own liability, the Ranger should have filled it out, copy to me or not, as there was an injury in, and cause by, their facilities.  Understanding the serious need for this report, before we left for home, I walked back down to the booth to find it closed.  Three ranger vehicles out front (all outfitted with stickers bragging that they are outfitted with Sirius Satellite Radio services) and voices inside, but a sign saying they will open at 2:30, and another one saying they’ll be back at 3pm.  (Check out is at 1.)  The Eldest, being an eager 8 year old, started pounding on the door, but the folks inside refused to answer.  This is frightening when you consider there is big red lettering outside the booth stating the AED is located inside…. And if it was needed, it wasn’t going to be available with staff ignoring someone pounding on the door, because apparently the state can pay for Sirius, but not for staff to be on duty.

   So in the long run, we left with no report being filed, ½ less of a tooth, and me, pissed off and spending most of today trying, still to no avail, to figure out who I need to reach to file a complaint.  We loved the area, loved the park for location, view, and activities, but are not sure if we’ll ever be returning, as I heard several other families there say, because the park appears to be run so horribly. 

Life, Death, George Washington and Elvis, And My Eldest Son

   Today we learned that one of our neighbors passed away last night.  It wasn’t one of the many we know well, but we have seen her puttering around her front yard, and she enjoyed the kids coming around decked out for Halloween every year.  I’m told, though, that she was very ill and lonely. 

   Eldest Son, however, has started to notice a lot of death recently.  As he plays a lot with the lady (I’ll call her Mrs. K)’s next door neighbor kids, he’s met Mrs. K and knew her a little bit.  So I was cautious in approaching the whole thing, and we sat down to talk. 

   The kids he plays with are very religious.  Not in a particular faith I’d follow either.  However, it’s been a very interesting open door for us to hold such conversations with him.  He insists on saying grace at dinner, and prays for us when we’re ill.  I’ve found that while I don’t agree with all they teach him, there is quite a bit that is very basic, and that he’s been asking for since he was an itty bitty.  Today, while talking to him about Mrs. K’s passing, his little belief system came to surface again in such sweet ways.

   See, when his little friend at school passed, he was unable, until Relay, to do much to make his heart feel better about it.  As soon as I got the call that Mrs. K had left us, I knew what to do.  I explained that the neighbor we’d seen the ambulance take away (a week ago to the day) had passed on… that she had been very sick, and very lonely, and that I know it sounded strange, but that it was likely for the best for her.  He was quiet, so I told him that we could go get some flowers and put them at her doorstep so when her family comes by to tend to the house, they can see that someone cared.  That got a smile.  Then he piped up with, “Besides, now she can say hi to God!  And she’s probably meeting some very interesting people, like George Washington and Elvis!” 

We talked a little about how people die all the time, and that it’s part of life.  We touched on the fact that Daddy and I plan on sticking around for a long time, but that things do happen, and we would rather he not mope around too long, but to get out and live his life, and celebrate ours.  He smiled again, real big, and said, “Mom, I don’t want it to be any time soon, but if for some reason you do die, please make sure you say hi to Grandma for me.  Tell her I miss her and I love her.”

Its weird how grown up that little crazy wild child is.  He’s always been an old soul, and sometimes it catches me off guard.  But what a heart that kid has.

Relay for Life: Who

   Relay for Life is a big deal to me.  It’s huge.  Participating in this amazing event for two years now has helped give me purpose, and helped heal some hurt that naturally occurs when cancer enters your life.  In my case, I am so very fortunate to say cancer did not enter my life through my own body.  However, unfortunately, cancer has come to me through many of my loved ones.  I think the number given was 1 out of every 8 people will be diagnosed in cancer in their lifetime. 

   Relay has become such a big deal to me that trying to sum up all of what I want to say in one blog post would be nearly impossible.  I’m not even sure it’s possible in 5 or 6 posts, but I think I can better get it all across this way.  So I will go by Who, What, When, Where, Why, and maybe How to help me organize my thoughts.

   I’ll start with "Who".  Who Is Vicky, who got me involved with Relay in the first place.  My fearless team leader for our first two walks, and likely many more, she’s always got a positive outlook, and creative way of thinking.   

   Who is the many people I know in my life affected by various forms of cancer.  

   From my own beautiful mother, who thankfully had a very minor case…. It was so odd to add you to the luminaries we decorate every year, but even with such comparatively minor treatment, I’m proud that you are a survivor, not a memorial.  My mother did it right.  She called BS on doctors, followed her instincts, and pushed to be treated when they thought there was nothing there.  That’s the absolute best way to fight cancer…. Be proactive.  She won.

   My Mother-in-Law, likely one of the very few people who could reasonably call her cancer a blessing, as it released her spirit from her body which was in permanent lockdown from various other issues…. Yet still, taken by breast cancer in what should have been her happy golden years.  She was smiling to the very end, when she said heard the angels calling her home.

   My beloved second Mom (I have two of those), Jody, taken so quickly…. A bigger and braver heart would be nearly impossible to find.  Jody overcame so many other obstacles in life, to be taken down by only one…. cancer.  I never truly had an idea how far her love reached, until I went to her memorial.  I still can’t thank her sons and daughter enough for sharing her with me.  It’s been just over a year, and I still am absolutely heartbroken at her passing.  Her smile forever lives in my memory.

   Joy, I have a picture of me as a kid, sitting next to a woman holding her itty bitty baby.  That itty bitty baby was taken by cancer in her very young teen years.  The truth of the ugliness of cancer can be seen in the children it rips from our lives more than anywhere else.  To know that a child must endure the endless testing, and horrific treatment, that comes with a cancer diagnosis… and to ultimately loose that battle… what can better tell that story?

   My dear friend Peggy, whom I met at my very first Relay meeting:  I did not know she was a survivor.  I only knew she was on a team walking in the relay.  I loved her right away.  Peggy and I were instant and easy kindred spirits.  She’s rude, crude, and unusual.  Full of mischief and spunk, she’s me, but older.  :-D  That impish twinkle in her eyes tells you real quick it’s time to duck; she’s up to something.  I found out on the night of our first relay that she wore the purple “survivor” shirt.  I would never have guessed.  I know full damned well that one day it is very possible that cancer will take her away as well, but the truth is, I know I’m so blessed to know this woman, that I’d rather dance this earth with her for a shorter time, and lose my mind when she leaves us, than to not absolutely enjoy her every moment I could.  I was so thankful to see her, in all her spunkiness, at the Relay that I nearly broke down and bawled.

   Olivia, whom I have met, but don’t actually know.  Last year was her first year with her cancer diagnosis.  This year was her first year as a survivor.  Olivia just turned 13 (I believe) a few days before relay.  We’re all watching this brilliant young lady grow up through Relay.

   Emma, who was in my eldest’s kindergarten and first grade class, passed away this year.  She was (forgive me I don’t know exactly how old) around 8 years old.  The school superintendent spoke at this year’s first Relay meeting and told us all his stories of this brilliantly bright little girl who all the way until the end refused to let it get her down.  She remained in school, and was, from what I understand, a great student.  She was always smiling.  But the whole time, a tumor was in her brain, taking her away from those that love her most.

   Maria (“MJ”), a student in Eldest Son’s second grade class, also fighting brain cancer.  She’s a beautiful little princess.  Every time I’ve seen her, she’s wearing a lovely fancy dress and a headband, not hiding, but rather showing off her tufts of hair…. What is left behind after all her treatments.  The teacher published a book as an end of the year full of a mini-bio and a self-portrait from each student.  MJ’s bio includes her mother’s wish that MJ’s cancer never returns.  It struck me that a) she decorated the little hair she has, not trying to hide it, and b) she wasn’t concerned for herself if her cancer returns, but of the feelings of her mother.

   Lyn: a brick house of a woman.  I would never recommend tangling with her.  Even on a bad day she could take down anyone I know, both physically and intellectually.  We, as her students and friends already knew this of her, and looked up to her.  This year we were probably the biggest wimps of all when we learned she had cancer.  I clearly remember the moment she told me.  She thought I had heard.  I was sitting in her classroom, and I swear I thought I could disintegrate into the floor right then.  I was so embarrassed that between the two of us, it was I who could not control my tears.  And in classic Lyn style, she was more concerned with making ME feel better!  Funny thing about most of the women I know; we get sick, and we find it more important to assure the ones around us that everything will be okay.  If anyone can kick the crap outta this, it’s Lyn.

  Becky, who I don’t know, but I do know her husband Joe.  Here’s what I do know… when stationed in Bahrain, I met Joe, who is one of the funniest people you’ll ever meet in your life.  And as off the wall as Joe is, one thing that was always very clear is that his wife, Becky, is absolutely his partner in everything, and without her, he’s just not a whole.  This is a man crazy head-over-heals in love with his wife.  One thing I see him tell her all the time is that he loves her, “more than a fat kid loves cake”.  Within the last year, Becky was diagnosed.  I read a post on Facebook that Joe was tagged in, written by Becky, just a few days ago.  It was in so many ways a gentle way of saying she is preparing to leave us.  The bravery, however, and the class, grace, faith, and the just… there just aren’t words to describe it… had me in uncontrollable tears.  I shared it with my husband, who knows neither Joe, nor Becky, and even he was in tears.  The fight continues for Becky, and I refuse to give up rooting for her.   And the very last line in this post?  After asking that readers, “continue to pray (not pity)” was, “So, now that we are done with that tell me what's on your bucket list! ;0)”  This woman is looking death in the face, laughing her ass off, and spitefully saying, “Yeah, and then what?”

   Darene, who I had no idea had cancer, and has lived with it for who knows how long, and continues to do so, but lives a beautiful life with her two adorable little boys and loving husband.  (And let me tell you, this is the kind of gal you want to sit around and have more than a few laughs with!)

   These a few names, and sadly every year this list expands.  There are many I’ve not listed here, I could seriously write a full length novel.  Along with the list expanding every year, it changes.  People pass on, people get worse, people get better, and people get cured.  As a (so far) Non-cancer person, I often feel helpless.  But as I walk through the night with so many people wearing purple, and so many of these people happy to tell you what the Relay means to them… it’s not even just about money.  It’s about a community physically showing up to support to those enduring things so unimaginable that a few hours of time spent means everything to them. 

   That last sentence… that’s what I understood very quickly listening to the speaker at this year’s luminary ceremony.  She said over and over that she needed us here.  Raising funds, that’s very much important.  But this amazing woman is fighting breast cancer.  She’s just completed her chemo and has 20something rounds of radiation left.  She briefly described what the radiation treatments are like for her…. And then she told us all that what she really needed out of Relay was to see that she had the support; to see our faces, to hear the applause, and to know that so many people are counting on her to give it her all. 

   These are the faces and story of Relay.  These are why I care so much.  These are the reason that for as long as I possibly can, I will continue to relay every year, even if I don’t raise a dime.  THIS is what relay is all about.

  

Some Days I Wish I Just Made Sense...

   I’m ba-ack!  Well, I’m trying very hard to be.  My lapse in posting is unfortunately just another way of the outside world being able to see approximately when I checked myself out of the real world and into the very dark side inside my own self.  But it’s okay.  It comes and goes, but I am treading water harder every day, and for every time I start drowning, I manage to get myself afloat again.

   Looking back at old posts, I think I should have seen it coming, but really, when you are a basket case, you don’t always see it until it’s already hit you like a 20lb sledgehammer. 

   Okay, but on to other things.  So it’s a new start, this time on the same blog.  I refuse to completely lock myself out of my blog again.  (Even if I can’t find the durned thing.)  ;-)  I could try to catch up on what has all been going on in the last year, but let’s be real; feeling overwhelmed is a big part of my own inner demons.  So I am looking at the now, and maybe a little bit to the past, and a touch to the future. 

   I want my sense of humor back.  Lately it’s been very minimal.  Every funny moment I have found has been from outside of me.  I get my laughs, but they aren’t my own.  Those that know me know I inherited my mother’s sense of humor.  (Thank you for that, Mom!)  It is the one thing looking inside that I had that was light.  But over the last year, and this didn’t hit me until just now, my jokes are mostly forwarding everyone else’s.  My laughs are from other people, all of whom I am thankful for.  If it wasn’t for wonderful people in my life, the last year would have been nearly no laughter at all.  But I hope to find my inner funny again as well.  Some people like their hair, or their butt, I like my humor.

   Overwhelmed has been a big theme for me lately.  I don’t hide that I have issues with depression and ADHD.  It’s not that I want anyone’s sympathies…. It’s that the one thing above even my sense of humor that keeps me thriving is helping others.  I truly hope that for all of my dredging up my own issues, I can help others know that they aren’t alone, or that someone is crazier than them… one or the other.   One of the few things I truly hated about my military time was that I wasn’t directly helping anyone in any way that had an impact on their wellbeing.  One of the reasons I’m working towards entering the Medical Field is that I can find that satisfaction in knowing, weather the patient knows/likes it or not, I can have that impact.  One of the problems I’ve been suffering from is… okay, let me try it this way, it makes better sense:

   I speak in terms of “I” a lot.  It’s not that I’m so self-centered; it’s that it’s the only way I know how to speak, understand, and relate.  On the other hand, I can’t, and some would say it’s unhealthy, live only for me.  I am at my best when I’m there for others.  The last two years, I am primarily a student.  It’s all about me.  I hate that.  I love learning, and I love being a student, don’t get me wrong.  But I hate going so long in the bull pen, and not out in the arena.  Every fiber in my body feels like I’m atrophying away, and being totally useless.

   Then to add to it, I go home.  It’s no one’s fault, but it’s what it is.  I get home, and no matter what I do, it’s undermined in seconds.  I clean something; someone comes right behind me and trashes it.  I make a decision, and it meets no one’s approval.  Hell, right now I have a neighbor who I normally get along with but is mad at me now because, once again, I can do no right.  I don’t coddle my kids enough.  I don’t have my house painted the colors he wants.  (I tried to show him colors I want; he tells me they don’t meet his approval.  We have this battle round after round every year.)  I keep my kids on too tight of a leash.  I don’t have that leash tight enough.  And really, I get a lot of this thing, just with different titles to the arguments, from the rest of the world.  After a while it gets to you, and the only defense I find is to bury myself inside of myself.   And yes, I know that everyone has these battles.  Problem with folks like me is, we don’t see, no matter how many people point right to it, the easy answer to handling it all.

   So here I am.  I am trying to step back outside myself.  See, I’m a mess, but I’m a good mess.  I am one train wreck after the other, one bit of crazy, one health issue, one breakdown after the other… but I have more heart than many people I know.  I’m funny, I’m intelligent, I’m creative, and I care with everything that I am.  The negative may be heavier than the positive, but that positive is such a shameful waste to keep locked up.

   And those are my thoughts.  Like ‘em or not, that’s who I am.  And, dammit, I like me.  All I ask of you, the dear reader, is to cross your fingers.