Close Encounters with the Bear Kind

Just had a super cool, albeit, scary experience. Must share.

First, some background. On the trail where I walk the dogs, there are rumors of a bear den somewhere not far off the trail. For one year, I searched and searched for this den. Finally this winter, I found the den after literally almost falling into it. It is only about 20-30 feet from the walking trail and pretty easy to spot once you know where it is.

So this winter, I wanted to take pictures of this den. How often can a person get THAT close to a bear's den? Besides, if the bear was in there, he would be hibernating anyway. So I was able to get these pictures:


Throughout the season, I had heard several conflicting accounts. Some said the bear was in the den, and others said that bears do not return to their dens after they have occupied them. It was known that a bear had occupied this particular den in the past so perhaps it was empty.

Well, now it is Spring and I am curious what the den looks like without snow cover. How big IS the hole? What does it look like? As I return to the den, the thought crosses my mind that it IS Spring, and if a bear was slumbering in that den, he could be waking from his slumber. But, that was just a fleeting thought.

So I am snooping around the den thinking that it is a very large entrance and it looks rather deep. I really wanted to crawl inside. But I knew better than that. What I didn't know better was to stand in the entrance of this cave. I noticed a red coffee can on the floor of the den and was very curious to what may or may not be living in there. Then all of a sudden I hear a very loud RAWR and the bear sticks his head aggressively out of the den! Just his head and his 2 front, very large, paws (paws with claws). We even made eye contact, and I was close enough to this wild bear that I could have reached out and pet him if I chose. After making an abrupt scream, I consciounsly decided to run. Now, I know this is against bear survival rules, but he was still in his den, hopefully sleepy, and didn't appear to be following me or anything so I ran. Fast.

My heart was racing, my adreneline pumping, my body shaking. I was scared, but also super excited! Its a once-in-a-lifetime opporunity and I remained safe to its all good. I am so fortunate to have had such an opportunity, and even more fortunate to have escaped unscathed.

It Occured to Me....

I woke today with a massive headache, swallowed some Ibuprofen and took a warm bath. Afterwards, I felt a wee bit nauseous and laid down in bed for another hour and this thought occurs to me. What if I die? I wasn't in that much pain or anything, but it was just a random thought. Being I live alone, I worry that there could come a time when I just suddenly kick the bucket and lay rotting in my house for days or even weeks.

Who would know that I was dead as a door nail in my house (what IS a door nail anyway)? The only REAL sign would be when I don't show up for my scheduled work shift for maybe the second time. Then somebody might get concerned and try knocking on my door or calling my family members.
So here are some clues that I may just be a rotting pile of flesh in my house.
1. I don't answer OR RETURN phone calls. Its pretty safe to say that after 3 days, if I don't return a phone call, there could be a grim reaper present.
2. Absence on FacebookI check my facebook daily even when I am working doubles so I should have some activity definitely within 3 days.
3. Strong Odor around my house.I'm pretty good at keeping the litter boxes pretty clean so any odor that is emitting from my little house, is probably a decaying body. You have my permission to kick the door in.
4. Hungry Cats.If when you kick in the door, the cats look emaciated and are very hungry, I'm probably dead. On second thought, I have heard it said that a starving cat will eat their dead owners. They may not be starving, but they will certainly be sad...and probably feel guilty.
5. No call/No show. When I don't call into work,don't show for a shift, AND you can't get a hold of me, is the definite sign that I am dead.

So if any of the above ever happens, come check on me.

Taking out the Trash

Trash Day is one of my favorite days of the week. Most people complain about having to take out the garbage, but not me. I love it and look forward to it. Its quite possibly my very favorite grown up household chore, though sweeping comes in a close second. Since I only have to take out the trash once a week, it wins. There is just something symbolic in taking out a week's worth of garbage, having somebody else dispose of it, and getting to start over each week with a brand new garbage bag. How cool is that?

Going to Nebraska?

When I feel like disappearing and running away from whatever I want to avoid, I dream of running away to Nebraska. Why Nebraska? Well, because who on God's Green Earth will think to look for me in Nebraska? Its unknown. There is not a movie titled "Sleepless in Nebraska". There is not a national slogan that says "I heart Nebraska". Whatever happens in Nebraska, probably does not stay in Nebraska and there are no major theme parks or attractions in Nebraska. Does Nebraska even have a professional sports team? I don't know. But I do know there are no famous Nebraska Potatoes or Nebraska Oranges and things are not bigger in Nebraska. So that is where I will go. Someday.

My best defense is avoidance. And I do it very well I might add. There are those days or weeks when I just want to disappear and leave everything in the dust. Poof. Leave no trace of where I am or where I am going. I have dreams of packing up and starting all over somewhere completely new and reinventing myself. Into what I don't know because I am who I am, and I kinda like it that way. Even in Nebraska, I think I'd still be me. You can't change what is at your core, and I don't want to anyway. Besides, I love my life here. I have the best friends any one person could ever hope for. My dysfunctional family is full of love and, when it really matters, we're there for one another.

Still, Nebraska calls my name from time to time.

Freak of Nature

Since I have revealed vajayjay issues and also revealed embarrassing Jr. High School pictures, I thought I'd stay on that train. While we're at it, I might as well walk you through the many afflictions that prove I am a freak of nature. Let the Embarrassment continue.....but its all in good fun.

First, I have super duper stretchy skin. Its stretchier than the average person. It affects my whole family and from internet research, we have diagnosed ourselves with Ehler-Danlo Syndrome or EDS. Usually our type is found in a circus pulling their bottom lip up over their nose, but we settled for quarters showing off our skin at neighborhood Tupperware parties. No lie. When I was just a wee gal, my mom showed me the neatest trick ever. She showed me how to bundle up my skin on my knee or elbow to make a penis!!

My stretchy skin has made for some pretty interesting conversations and people who may not necessarily remember me, usually remembers my stretchy skin. At least I am remembered for Something. Even if it is for a Penis Knee.

Affliction #2: My hands. My hands have a million bazillion lines in them. I call them "old lady hands". I have had old hands ever since I was young so it isn't something that just appeared. Years ago I went to a palm reader just for shits and giggles. She told me my palm was unreadable because of all the lines. Then she said I had multiple personalities. Maybe.

I just like to think that I have had many many past lives and they are all reflected in my palm.

Affliction #3: Eye strings. Sorry no real photo available at this time. I get these odd fiber like strings that appear in my eyeball and I have to dig them out! Its like a long strand of a very tiny hair encased with booger stuff. They hurt and make my eye puffy and red. When the occur, I get obsessed with them and must dig them out, but when I pull out those suckers, its immediate relief.


Affliction #4: Varicose Veins. Well, I used to have them. Thanks to my mom and grandma, I was blessed with the atrocity of varicose veins. Ugly, ugly, ugly. As I aged, they only got worse so I had a very minor surgery to rid myself of their presence. Only now I am left with something more disturbing. Now I have little brown holes all over my leg. Thirty-one holes to be exact.

My skin, being I have EDS, does not heal like most peoples' skin. Instead, it forms keloids, or fatty masses, when I get an injury. So now I have 31 little Keloids all over my leg which is just as, if not more, unsightly than those purple bulging veins.

Affliction #5: Clicky Hip. Sometime after age 30, I developed a new talent. When I walk, I click. Simple as that. It sounds horrible; I could probably have a conversation with a remote African tribe just from the sounds of my hip, but it does not hurt at all.


Oh, the embarrassment! Complete with pictures and all! What a lucky person you are to be privy to this circus-eligible resume.

Photos in a Box

Quick! Write another post! I don't want that horrid picture of me to be the first thing somebody sees when they happen upon my blog. It will be seen; I knew that when I posted it. No real regrets....yet. Instead it prompted me to go through more old photos which are all very discombobulated in a rubber maid box. No order to them whatsoever.
Somewhere I heard that photos actually keep longer when stored in such a fashion unless you have super duper acid free photo albums. Some pictures are bent and torn, but Most are perfectly good. Ironically most of the photos in albums are of my cats! God Forbid I try to keep the ancient black and white photos in mint condition. I attempted to organize them at one point, but got so overwhelmed with them all, that I tossed all my pretty little piles haphazardly back in the box again. One of these days....

Bad Hair Days

My whole life's dream as a little girl was to have flowing locks of long hair. I adored long hair and envied anyone who had hair below their shoulders. My hair has always been baby fine and very thin. Not only was it fine and thin, but I grew up in the 80's which means I was getting perms by the time I was in 3rd grade. Not even standard quality salon perms, but home perms. Bad home perms. My poor hair was so over processed that it simply did not grow. In fact, it broke off from all the chemicals so it actually got shorter rather than longer. My mom determined it was very necessary for me to have perms because it contributed to my hair having some volume. So instead of looking like a skinned rat, I looked like a skinned rat with cancer.

Fast forward to 9th grade and the 9th grade dance. For this special occasion, my mom takes me to the salon to get yet another perm (a fresh perm so I have more volume). This time, the perm does not take quite so well and my hair is rather limp. A few days later, we return to the salon to inquire why my hair is so limp and the dumbass REPERMS my hair. Imagine all those chemicals on baby fine hair in just a matter of a few days! And that, my friends, was the beginning of many awkward photos.



I can't even believe I am putting this horrid picture out there for all the interwebs to see, but you needed the picture to get the full effect of what a bad hair day really is. Unfortunately, there are worse pictures of me out there somewhere.

See, what happened is that those perms broke off all the hair on one side of my head so I went through all of Jr. High School with crooked hair. Kids were kind. I didn't even get teased. But I should have.

Of course we (my mom and I) didn't think that all these perms were damaging my hair, and we thought something was medically wrong with me. Or that I was lacking in some hair vitamin. Oh, I even had lab draws to determine why my hair was so awful, but all came back normal. Then it was recommended by that same dumbass beautician that we send samples of my hair in to some obscure lab to be tested. So for the bargain price of $10, I let that lady take 4 separate hunks of hair from each part of my head. Right down to the scalp. It was all I could do to sacrifice all of that hair because I needed every little strand of hair possible. So away to a lab went my hunks of hair.

The results came back saying that my hair did not have a medulla. Apparently that is the middle shaft of a single strand of hair, and it holds a curl. My hair is unlike most peoples' hair in that the more you try to curl it, the straighter it gets, which would also explain why instead of getting nice curls with my perms, I would get frizz. Along with a medulla deficiency I had very "fragile" hair.

That was the end of my perms. Unfortunately not the end of my bad hair days. They are getting better, but I still live in the 90's and have some lingering effects of the infamous "mall bang" look. Oh, I have tried and tried to give myself make overs and get a different, more updated hair style, but my hair doesn't work like that. And I am so petrified of having more pictures like the one I just posted for all the world to see. I can't believe I actually posted that picture. Don't use it to blackmail me, please!

(Just as an *aside*....those suspender pants I am wearing were MC Hammer meets Zubaz. They were big and flare-y and cost me a lot of money!)

All My Single Ladies....

.....Put your hand up! That's right. Put your hand up high and proud. Show off that bare finger on your left hand with pride! I am in my mid 30's, single, and proud of it! Not only am I single, but I am very single. Not even in a relationship of any kind at the moment. Oh, There have been dates, boyfriends, and short term relationships. There have been crushes and desires. Right now, though, there is nothing. And I like it that way. The longer I am single, the more difficult it is to even comprehend being in a relationship. It may sound selfish, but I only have myself to worry about.

Many of my friends still try to "set me up" with some random guy from time to time. They seem to think that I WANT to be married or WANT to have someone to share my hard earned material things with. I don't. I really don't. If there happens a time when my Knight in Shining Armor does appear, AND he fits perfectly into my little life I have carved out for myself, that is fine. But I am not going to go out of my way to seek that out. No more blind dates. No more online dating profiles. So I politely decline any match making offers and leave them thinking that I am missing out on something called marriage.

Marriage is not all its cracked up to be. Most marriages end in divorce, heart ache, and hardship. Some don't. But I am not good at sharing and in a marriage, you have to share. Share time. Share money. Share space. Share things. My time, money, space, and things are mine, all MINE! I need my space, and lots of it. Alone time is critical for my sanity and the thought of sharing anything with anybody for 365 days in a year 24/7 for what is supposed to be forever, scares the hell out of me. So I stay single and happy.

Sure there are those days that I yearn for some strapping fellow to wrap his arms around me,give me a hug, tell me he loves me and that it will be alright. Sure there are those very lonely moments where I wish I had someone to walk hand in hand with on the beach. Sure there are those occasions where showing up single is an embarrassment. But those days are occurring less and less. The older I get the more comfortable I am being my own date.

Now when I run into someone and they ask me if I am dating anybody, I no longer put my head down in shame. Instead, I hold my head up high and strongly state that I am single, happy, and proud of it!

Sick Days

Rarely am I sick. In fact, sometimes I hope I get an illness so that I can use up some sick days at work. To put it in perspective I have around 714 hours of sick time. We stop accruing hours somewhere around 720. In my mind, that is when I start losing hours since I cannot earn any more. Hence my issue. My sick days are pretty much planned out weeks, or months, in advance. Its very deliberate and usually for a "good" reason that I justify as a "mental health day". Hey, I work in the mental health field, and let me tell you, mental health days are very real. Tomorrow was (is) supposed to be my sick day. I have it highlighted on my calendar in blue so that I remember. Calling in sick tomorrow would give me 6 glorious days off in a row, something that seldom happens for me anymore. With all of this planning comes incredible guilt and it gives me the anxieties to even think of making that call with my garbled voice and stuffy nose....something I can fake pretty darn well. One coworker gave me a tip and told me that it really helps if you lay over the edge of your bed upside down when you make the fake ill call. It stretches out your voice so you sound under the weather. I don't need shenanigans like that; I just ad lib. All of my energy today is being used on gearing myself up to pick up the phone and dial the 7 numbers and say I am ill. Maybe I'll need that sick day afterall to regain all this spent energy. Cough Cough.

4 Cat Night

I know it is going to be a wonderful day when I wake up having all 4 snuggly cats in bed, the sky is blue and the sun is shining! Can't wait to start the day (so, why am I blogging then?)

Smells of Spring

Spring in the Northland. Ahhhh. Finally, we can take the plastic off and open our windows for the first time in months. Even with that bit of chill in the air, it feels wonderful. Spring is a time of rebirth, rejuvenation and mud. Pussy Willows and tulips are beginning to bloom, and sweet surprises are uncovered by the melting snow. As I discovered today, those sweet surprises come in many varieties depending on whom you ask.

So I am hiking along the partially snow and partially mud covered trail with "my" 3 dogs today. Everything is going quite smoothly. We navigate around the puddles when we can. Since I am wearing $14 Walmart water boots with a leopard print, I feel invincible. And I am. Too bad the dogs were not wearing their rubber boots. Or as it turns out, their rubber suits.

We're almost done with our hike. Even the car is in sight. I take a peek around to find all dogs are visible. All except one. The little ADHD terrier who sometimes tags along on my hikes has taken a detour. When she doesn't come back when I call her, I know what she is doing. Oh, she comes back alright. She returns with a very foul smell. That little shit found shit. She found her own sweet surprise and loved it so much she had to roll in it. Why must dogs do that? Either that shit (of the literal variety) was freshly made or else it was newly defrosted. Regardless, it was mushy and moist. And powerful enough to awaken my gag reflex. Not all Springtime smells make a person want to take a deep savory whiff.

Numbers

This is a rapidly written post to make "blog entry number 14". Upon reviewing my blog entries, I was aghast when I saw that I had 13 blog entries. That can't be good. Voila, born is blog numero 14. What a more perfect time to discuss my number superstition. Normally the number 13 is not a huge deal for me, but if there is something in my power to either make 12 or 14 of something, I will do it. It doesn't hurt anything, right?

My biggest superstition is with even numbers. Not sure when this all happened, but the longer I practice it, the more difficult it is to break. See, I will not get out of bed until my clock shows an even time. Usually, that just means I lay in bed an extra minute until the clock changes from 5:41 to 5:42. Not a big deal. The microwave and television volume must reflect even numbers as well. If someone else sets the TV volume, and its odd, I can handle it. I don't experience an all out panic attack or anything, but it lingers in the back of my mind. If I know the person well enough, I just ask them to turn the volume up or down one notch. Or I take control of things myself and adjust the volume for some obscure reason just so I can control that it is on an even number.

I didn't feel quite right living in my apartment when I had an odd address. I justified it because I lived on an even street number. Imagine my delight when I moved into my house and and it had an even address (simply disregard the fact that it has an odd street number).

I also feel bad for numbers. I feel bad for all numbers that are not 0 and 5. All the other numbers do not get as much attention. Most people set their alarm clock and microwave times for something that ends in 0 or 5. So I make sure that when I heat up my day old pizza, it goes in for 1 minute and 6 seconds. That way the number 6 gets some recognition. Also my alarm clock is always set for a time that ends with 2, 4, 6 or 8.

Call me crazy if you must, but I say I'm being oversensitive to the needs of some underutilized numbers. They appreciate it.

Erasable Moments

You know those moments during the course of the day where you say something you regret almost instantly? Those Why-the-HELL-did-I-say-that moments that replay in your mind over and over again turning into an obsession all its own? Perhaps its a rude comment to a friend or maybe its a piece of gossip you should have kept private. More simply, maybe its just a remark that brings embarrassment to your own self.

I am going to be a billionaire one day because I am going to invent a big giant eraser that is capable of wiping out those moments. Capable of retracing each conversation throughout the day and simply erasing those things we wish we could take back. Erasing the hurt. Erasing the disappointment. Erasing the embarrassment. Until I do invent that impossible gadget, I am just going to do my best to live each day without Erasable Moments.

Decrepit Vajayjay

Yes, sorry folks, this is about my vag. V-a-g-i-n-a! My vajayjay has expired. All dried up....pun intended. Bid deal, you may think, its a part of life! True Dat. True Dat. However, I went through menopause when I was only 28 years old and was completly done with it by age 32. My whole life's ambition was to be a Mom. Yeah, yeah, yeah, "you can adopt", "you can foster", "there are many other ways to have children". But, I will NEVER feel another life move inside me. Ever. But its OK, I have dealt with it, and actually have come to accept my decripit 'gina.

You see, it kind of liberated me in a very bizaare way. It gave me a reason to stay single! I love being single, and there are sure to be many more posts regarding that subject. Despite all those soceital laws that mandate a 20-something MUST get married and have babies, I AM A REBEL!

Besides, I have a whole family of babies. I'm not just talking about my cats, either. The kids I work with are my children. My friends' children are my children...and let me assure you there are many! I'm surrounded by children and babies almost every single day of my life......so are mothers. But mothers are the sorry suckers who never get a break. Can't jump in the car on a whim and go shopping in peace. Not to mention that I actually HAVE money to go shopping with! Mothers are actually responsible for HOW their children turn out; for raising them! I get to just play with them, enjoy them, and send them home again so I can commence to blogging, hiking, skiing, or whatever my heart desires. Hopefully somewhere along the way, I will make an impression on one or two of those kids. I'm gonna need someone to visit me in the nursing home when I get older.

Would I trade that all in if I could have a baby? Oh sure. Most definitely. But if I can accept this then I have to say, Sorry, Mother Suckers!

Reflections

Serendipity kind of led me to this whole blogging world, and I took it as kind of a sign. I sign of what I do not know, but a sign nonetheless. It feels as though I am meant to blog.

Throughout my journey I would like to reflect on things I learn along the way. Learn about myself, the world, and just life in general. Its been a short few days of my out of control blogging that has churned out more blogs than Tiger Woods has women. And already I have discovered a purpose or two.

First of all, blogging seems to have broken a dam and allowed my creative juices to flow. Flowing so much that I can't sleep. Instead, I am laying awake thinking about this blog, what to write about, and how to make my blog better. But then the creativity spread like wild fire. Well, maybe just a small campfire, but it grew! I created my own original group idea for the kids at work! Never has that occurred before for me. All my groups are recycled regurgitation of the tried and true. Not today, baby! It was all me and MY idea. Then at the end of the day, I had another Brilliant Idea. I sent the kids home with WEEKEND HOMEWORK! Homework for their emotional problems, not of the academic nature. I feel good. I feel like I maybe made a difference today.....all because of blogging????

The second realization is that I really do have things to say! When I began this journey, I thought I would struggle to find topics and stories to write about. Instead it opened up this whole new window for me. Ordinary circumstances in the day suddenly become blog material, and I am having so much fun with it all! I don't care if anybody even reads it; its just a fun experience. And maybe its connecting new synapses in my brain.

Enter Wilson

I have never been one who names their plants. Stuffed animals? Of course. Dolls? Sure. Plants? Not so much. Enter Wilson. So named because he reminded me so much of the volleyball in Tom Hanks' movie, Castaway (Oh how I cried when that inanimate volleyball drifted off to sea).






My Wilson, the plant, was my consolation prize for having my hand touch my brother's urine. My brother let me take his plant home from the hospital after a mishap with his urinal....See blog titled "Pee Pocket". We instantly bonded, Wilson and I. He is adorable!

Its difficult to find a safe place for a plant to rest at my house. Cats are curious and we all know what happens to the curious cat, right? All the elevated plant appropriate places are already occupied by other unnamed plants, but I thought I could make room for Wilson. I wanted to make room for him.

Immediately I brought him home and sat him on the counter. Tino was the first to greet Wilson. Pretty benign sniffing and some dirt digging. I'm no dummy; I knew this could go sour fast, so up on the microwave went Wilson where I thought he would be safe. I leave to do some obsessive blogging....Only to return to find Muffin having an affair with poor Wilson. Raping him in fact. Being the hero that I am, I stepped in to rescue Wilson who escaped with a few minor injuries. He will recover and be just fine. Wilson now resides high upon another shelf in the kitchen safe from Muffin's lust. We will make it work. The cats and Wilson can, and will, live in harmony. Welcome Wilson!!!

Pee Pocket

I was unaware of the used, though mostly empty urinal that was resting on the window sill in the hospital room where I was visiting my brother. As I rested my body against the window sill, I knocked that sucker over. I thought I caught it in time as gross as it was to have to touch something my brother peed in. It wasn't until I stuck my hands into my pockets that I exclaimed, "Why is my pocket wet?" You know how when Milk is beginning to sour, and you have to keep smelling it over and over again to decide if it has spoiled or not? Well, that was what I was doing with my hand. Feeling and feeling inside my pocket wondering where this sudden moisture came from. Then the light bulb went off. Ding! (That sounds more like a bell I suppose). Yes indeed, the urinal spilled more than a few droplets into my jacket pocket and my hand was touching pee! Not only pee, but BROTHER PEE. The worst kind of pee a person should ever have to touch. With disinfectant soap, water, and a lot of time, my hand will recover. My hand maybe, but not my memory.

Really?

Long Reach Comfort Wipe
Comfort Wipe Extends Your Reach. Easy to use and keep clean, this curved wand with toilet tissue grip ensures good hygiene. Holds tissue or wipes. Push top button to release. Latex-free plastic and silicone wand is 15 1⁄4"L.

They say inventions are born from need. Somebody somewhere needed this.

Rainy Days

I love rainy days. I really do. Not that I would like it to rain everyday, because that would be just wrong. It is on those rainy days that I get stuff accomplished, or as a good friend would say, "get shit did". Clean house, socialize, or just slooooow down. Not that I am living life in the fast lane by any means. Most would say I have a pretty slow life on what I classify as a "busy day".

On those sunny days, or even mediocre nice days, I am out and about. Being outdoors is my priority so everything else takes a back seat. There are those die-hards out there who don't let the weather get in their way, but not me. I take inclement weather as a sign...or maybe just an excuse. Either way, I embrace those days.

Already today I have scrubbed my 30 gallon fish tank and rid it of fuzzy growing algae. And I did laundry. It has yet to be folded, but it is clean. I might just muster up enough guspah to go grocery shopping; THE single most hated chore of being a grown up.

Later when I am having a lunch date with a friend, I will not be distracted wishing I was outside instead. I will be in the moment and enjoy the company. Today, I give thanks for the rain (especially because it could just as easily be snow).

Wool Sucking

Why do I even bother? Why do I bother laying my soft, fuzzy, pink robe next to my bedside each night before I fall asleep? When I wake up in the morning to put it on, it is never there. Where is it, you ask? Hmmmmmm....let me tell you a story about a human-like feline with a name of Valentino.

Valentino likes to masturbate. I guess the proper term is "wool sucking", but its funnier to say masturbate. Plus it describes the act perfectly. He loves his fuzzy materials. REALLY loves them. Sometimes when I come back home from wherever I have been, I find a pair of my underwear on the stairs leading to my kitchen. Walk a little further and I find a pair of pants. Around the corner, I might find one lone sock and maybe a sweater. Clothes are strewn all about. I used to think, "oh that funny Tino. You are such a mischief maker".

Then I saw it one day. I'm a bath girl. That is, I prefer baths over showers. Imagine my WTF reaction when I see Tino sucking amorously on a piece of my discarded clothing as I soak in tub.



At first I thought he was having a seizure they way he was shaking about. He goes all the way with clothes. ALL THE WAY. Imagine if you will a Siamese cat with a large sweater dangling out of his mouth. Eyes closed of course. Kneading the way cats knead. Only WAY more intense. This boy doesn't knead like a cat nursing; he kneads like he means it. His back end gyrating and squeezing.
His little legs aimlessly flopping about....giving a picture into what neutered cat's little "pinkies" look like. I had never seen one before, and now I have seen my fair share. He's good. He's very good. 'Cuz then he "finishes". Yes, finishes. The boy lets go of the material, sits up, lifts that once flopping leg up in the air, and CLEANS HIMSELF in that famous cat way.

So, where is my soft, fuzzy, pink robe? Ask Tino.

.....Into Dreamland

Have you ever laid awake in bed unable to fall asleep? It happens to me a lot. I have developed a few tricks to help me fall asleep, and I am going to share some of them here. Basically its just a diversion from over thinking whatever I am over thinking at the moment (currently, blog topics).

1. A,B,C Game. This works by taking a subject of any kind. Go through the alphabet and say the first word of the subject that comes to mind for each letter of the alphabet. Often my subjects are songs, celebrities, movies, sitcoms, things I am grateful for. Sometimes it works like a charm, sometimes not

2. States. Name all the 50 states. When you accomplish that, name their capitals if you are still awake. This one can backfire very easily if you get hung up on an obscure state or capital. I'm pretty good and I know that there are 4 states that start with "A" and "W", and 8 that start with "M" and "N".

3. Backwards names. Take a name and spell it backwards, then try to pronounce it (in your head of course). I go through my coworkers' names.

4. American Idol. Name all the past winners of American Idol. Not too difficult as there are only 8 (soon to be 9). But then I list off all the contestants of the top 24 (only of that particular season. My memory is quite poor).

Now that I have blogged my ration in blogs tonight, I think I will go to sleep and try one of these tricks.

Blog Mania

OK, so this new adventure in blogging has quickly developed into obsession. Likely, a short lived obsession (see, I told ya). I will continue to blog, but the degree to which it occupies my mind will hopefully dissipate. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking of things to blog about. And here I was worried those topics would be lacking. Already I have a notebook of suggested Blog topics....and I want to write all of them NOW. Patience is something I do not have. Once the blog is finished, I go back and read them, reread them, and read them again for good measure. Ohhh, I just thought of a really good blog entry so I am going to enter yet another one tonight. Mundane it may be, but its mine. Guess I'll have to work on patience some other time.

A Resilient Woman

My Grandma was a very resilient woman who was faced with more tragedies than are compiled in a Lifetime movie. Her life wasn't a movie, though. She lived it. Not only did she live it, but she lived it with life and with joy despite the unbelievable circumstances that she endured. I have never really had a forum to outline her amazing life, and thought this is the most perfect place to do just that.

Unfortunately, I do not remember much about my Grandma as she died when I was seven. What I do remember are visits to the nursing home where she spent her last years as she coped with the debilitating effects of a stroke. I just finished having a history lesson with my own mother and am once again reminded about the lineage from which I come. One of strong and resilient women.

The time line may be a bit askew and I will do my best to outline her life as best as I can and as efficiently as I can. Her life is filled with more losses than one person should ever have to endure.

Before my Grandma married my Grandpa, she lost her own dad to a heart attack. In that same year, her brother died in a plane crash. He was on a practice flight, training to be a pilot. His name was John. Later, my Grandma would name one of her sons after him.

Grandma and Grandpa married and had 7 children. Marilyn, Kathrine, Shirley, Charlotte (my mom), John AKA "Jack", Bonnie and Randy.

Katherine married Eddie and had 3 children of her own. One tragic evening, Katherine and her husband were killed in a car crash by a drunk driver. Also in the vehicle was my Uncle "Jack" who was only 14 years old at the time. He had a love of baseball and was a terrific pitcher. In fact, earlier that day, he pitched a no hitter in a minor league baseball game. Jack suffered a traumatic brain injury and spent 3 months in a coma. Kath and Eddie left 3 young children ages 4, 3, and 1. My grandma took in and raised her 3 grandchildren after the devastating loss of her own daughter, and while her young son battled for his own life. Jack eventually pulled through, but not without permanent brain damage from the accident. He returned home where my Grandma attempted to raise him, along with her other children who still resided at home, as well as the 3 orphaned grand kids.

Eventually Jack would have to go live in a Group Home as his injuries were too severe and Grandma could not handle him at home any longer. Then another tragedy. Her husband (my Grandpa) died of a heart attack while he was still in his 50's. A year following that loss, my grandma had a stroke at which point the 3 orphaned grandchildren went to live in Arkansas with Marilyn, the oldest daughter who had 3 children of her own.

In an unbelievable and tragic circumstance, Marilyn, along with all the children, were in a car accident. This accident proved to be fatal for Marilyn. All of the children were severely injured and spent time in the hospital to recover from their injuries. So the 3 children who were orphaned by their own parents, were now orphaned a second time. They went to live with their paternal side of the family in Florida. Marilyn left behind 3 children of her own. The older two were old enough to enlist in the military so that is what they did. The youngest was only 10, and he resided with his dad.

Somewhere in all of that mess, my Grandma's sister, Evelyn, was murdered by her husband Dave. He killed her on Mother's Day.

So to recap, Grandma lost her Dad, Brother, Sister, husband, 2 daughters. And one son was permanently brain damaged. Through more natural circumstances, her mother also died of Alzheimer's disease. Intertwined within all of that, there are rumors of infidelity on my Grandpa's part as well.

Despite all of this, Grandma was "happy-go-lucky". She didn't have a pity party, and if anyone had a right to have a pity party, she did. She didn't succumb to depression. She lived. She continued to live until she died in her 70's after suffering a paralyzing stroke. She was a strong woman and I am proud to be her granddaughter. My only regret is that I never really got to know her. My memories of her are minimal. My 2 aunts also perished before I was born so I never got a chance to meet them either. For some reason, I feel close with my Auntie Katherine, and I think we would have had a fun relationship.

My family is filled with strong women. Giving women. Resilient women. When faced with adversity, I hope I can be even half as strong and resilient.

Maiden Voyage

Why a blog? I have no idea. Never did I ever think that I would be posting a blog in cyberspace being the private person that I am. Who is going to want to read what I have to say? My life is rather routine and insignificant at best. Leading such a simple and monotonous life, what would I even make as the subject of each blog entry? Initially, I wanted this to be about those moments each day for which I am thankful; and likely that will be the main focus. However, I am hoping it turns out to be more than just that, and takes me somewhere surprising and new. Writing does not come effortless for me, but I am excited to begin my journey into blogdom.

For starters, let me start by sharing one major thing for which I am thankful.
Health
My health. My family's health. My friends' health. Nothing is more important to me than that, and I honestly give thanks each and everyday for those blessings. Never have I been more aware of my good fortune than after hearing about a close friend of mine whose mom just found out she has lung cancer. It gives me reason to pause and count my blessings. It also makes me question "why me"? Or maybe "why not me"? Why have I been so incredibly fortunate? Not that I am complaining, mind you! Keep that good mojo coming and maybe spread it around a little.