Sing With The Angels, Dear Friend

Today, someone very special to me was laid to rest.  In high school, Fred and I sang and acted together in performing arts programs, and I always enjoyed spending time with him.  His smile was radiant, and he always had a kind word and a hug to share with everyone he encountered.  And when he sang…oh my…the entire world stood still.  He had an amazing gift of talent, but his greatest light was the way he made people feel.  On Monday, he passed away suddenly after a blood clot from a previous surgery lodged itself within his lung.  A husband, father, church minister, and friend..and a breathtakingly amazing talent…left us suddenly.  I wish today I had been home in Indianapolis to share in the celebration of his life as he was laid to rest.  I ask you, my friends, to please keep his family, congregation, and friends in your prayers and hearts as they suffer this sad loss.

Sing with the angels, Fred.  You will be missed.

I’ve Come A Long Way, Baby…

And so it is that a new year us upon us.  As the world celebrates the beginning of a new year…a new decade…all around us is talk about the old.  What was great about the last year/decade?  Not so great?  Memorable?  Life-changing?  Who inspired us?  Changed us?  Harmed us?  Enlightened us?  Yesterday on Twitter, a common hashtag was #10yearsago.  I loved reading what my favorite tweeple were doing and how they were living as the last day of the 1900s gave way to the year 2000.  When I think back on that night, I can hardly believe that it’s been ten years.  Ten years.  So many things have happened to me in that “what-feels-like-a-brief-blip-in-time” period.  It seems like the time literally flew by…passed by in an instant.

Ten years ago, I was 27 years old.  I was newly engaged to an amazing man.  I was living in Indianapolis and working as an intern for a sub-agency of the Department of Defense. I had just completed a four-month rotational intern assignment in Columbus, Ohio, a town I felt was a hellhole on earth, and I was thrilled to finally be back home again.  I drove a hideously bright purple-y blue Dodge Neon, had very thick coke-bottle glasses, and held tightly to a dream of an amazing career and an even more amazing marriage and life.  I was struggling with a life-long severe weight problem (406 pounds at my heaviest, on New Year’s Eve 1999/2000.  No, you didn’t misread that.), and was holding on to years’ worth of heartache and pain from a less-than-ideal childhood and from fractured friendships and relationships.

In the 2000s, my life changed in so, so many ways:

I married that amazing man.  I found out that I really was right to have believed all those years in the fairytale happy ending Hollywood promises young girls.  I finally had “the guy.”  Not just a guy or any guy….I had the guy.  The one who knew my heart and loved me more than life itself.  The one who had everything, and I do mean everything, that I wanted in a partner.  Strong family bonds, hard worker, Catholic, selfless, funny, sexy, strong, well-educated, good morals, a career, a family- and future-focus.  Someone who loved me above himself (which in all my years of dating, never ever happened).  In my marriage, I became part of a second family.  I loved my in-laws and they, me.  My parents and parents-in-law were close and loving, and I was thrilled to begin this amazing life.  I was hopeful for a child, but was convinced that previous health issues would forbid it.  In spite of my broken body, my beautiful husband loved me and cherished me.  He was willing to sacrifice life as a father, but not a life without me.  We began a wonderful life together…one that continues (and continues to humble and enlighten and bring me joy) today.

I became a mother.  The old fashioned way!  To everyone’s surprise, my body wasn’t quite as broken as we thought.  I had convinced myself and everyone who’d listen that the only way I’d ever become a mother would be through artificial means (read: in vitro), adoption, or kidnapping (the latter, of course, generally said in jest to lighten the mood during the sullen “Jen’s likely barren” conversation.)  Two months before our very big, very Catholic wedding, I fainted at the airport on my way to a business trip.  On the way down, I struck my head and shoulder and after a very confusing few moments, was an ambulance passenger on the way to St. Luke’s Northland Hospital.  The EMT called ahead, notifing the emergency room that they had a “late twenties female with vasovagal syncope” who had suffered a slight concussion.  Yes, some women find out they are pregnant by missing menstrual periods.  I find out via a concussion.  Seven months later, our beautiful daughter was born just shy of 36 weeks after conception.  Although small, she was healthy and did not suffer any major complications due to prematurity.  Today, I am the mother of a vivacious, inquisitive, dramatic, social little girl (insert the obligatory, “Gee Jen, wonder where she got that from!” here) and am thrilled.  She is the greatest blessing and biggest surprise of my lifetime.

I moved away from home.  Sometimes, you have to leave your home to truly find it.  I loved Indianapolis, and truly never thought that I would ever live anywhere else.  My internship brought me to Kansas City, and I instantly fell in love….with the town and with the man I’d later marry.  It was heartbreakingly difficult to leave my parents and the only life I had ever known behind, but Kansas City instantly became my new home, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.  I miss Indianapolis, some times more than others, but I never want to not be here.

I became a professional.  I finished my two-year internship, assuming a GS-201-11 position as a Human Resources Specialist for that same DoD sub-agency.  I progressed upward, and continually amazed myself at how much I could truly achieve when challenged…when I worked hard…when I set my mind to it.  Yes, the girl who didn’t really have much faith in herself made one hell of an HR Specialist.  Strong advocate for her people, an amazing recruiter, and viciously violent with the pen when it came to writing disciplinary letters!  (My first case?  90 day suspension!)

I lost a LOT of weight.  And subsequently gained a whole lot of it back.  I didn’t do it the right way…by changing my eating habits and adopting a healthier lifestyle.  I became yet another of the statistics.  Yes, I am living proof that weight gain is not permanent or healthy unless you do it the right way.  Change your lifestyle, your eating habits, your attitude.

I learned to let go.  Throughout my formative years, I was hurt by many, many people.  I won’t belabor it or elaborate on it.  I will say, however, that I carried hurt and anger with me for many, many years.  I wouldn’t let go, forgive, heal.  I blamed others for the pain I felt, choosing instead to be weak and hide behind sadness and anger than to be strong and take a leap of faith and forgive.  Any inadequacies I felt (and believe me, I felt many) were their fault.  Theirs for causing them.  Theirs for hurting me.  It wasn’t until the last few years that I realized that any pain of yesterday still emblazoned upon my heart was not of their doing but of mine.  I gave hurtful memories continual safeguard and nourishment within my soul.  As a result, I never truly healed.  Never truly got past the sadness or lived in the now.  I learned to forgive, let go, and heal.  And I am worlds happier and healthier because of it.

I became a homeowner.  A doggy momma.  A PTO and sorority officer.  I left behind a job I loved and took a chance on something new, different, and challenging.  I watched as friends married, became parents, lost children, experienced death.  I’ve found my voice, learned to be assertive, and stood up in the wake of fear and threat and challenge.  I’ve gained and lost.  Loved and cried.  Laughed and suffered.  Recovered and thrived.  And I am finally beginning to feel like a round peg in a round hole.  Happier.  Healthier.  Better.

To the next ten…twenty…fifty.  May they be  joy-filled, strength-giving, and amazing.

Conversations With My Undeveloped Self

So today, I picked up the newest copy of People Magazine and read their interview with Nicole Kidman about various aspects of her life.  They asked her an ingenious question – what would she tell her 20-something self if given the opportunity – and I’ve not been able to get that query out of my mind all day.  Most of the people who know me know that I didn’t have the easiest road as a child and young adult.  Being very heavy and (I felt) very unattractive made significantly more complicated the already difficult road we call adolescence.  Significant family issues made matters even worse.  I spent so much time in my late childhood and teens (and even my young adulthood) always worried, always searching, always doubting.  Never believing that my best was good enough.  Never thinking that I was worth much of any consideration or laud.  Not wanting to call attention to myself, lest I expose myself to what I worried was certain scorn.  I accepted second, sometimes third best because I felt it was all I was entitled to, and I tried to let go of hopes and dreams because I feared the crushing blow of the inevitable disappointment that awaited me.  So imagine my surprise as the years moved onward that this self-perception of the world wasn’t really so.  Was I overweight?  Yes.  But I was worthy of good.  Talented.  Funny.  Loved.  Attractive, physically and (more important) socially and spiritually.  When I learned to take chances and experienced successes (academic, musical, romantic), I gained the courage and oomph to keep at it.  And today, I bloviate to you as an almost 38-year old woman (yeowch, that’s hard to type) who, although still significantly overweight, has all she dreamed of.  An amazing, wonderful, “perfect-just-as-he-is” man that I didn’t “settle” for.  A beautiful, hilarious, healthy child I was sure my broken body’d never produce.  A sometimes frustrating but generally satisfying career.  Means, money, a home, and more plenty than I need.  And a beautiful group of family and friends to share it all with.  Reading that simple question today led me to wonder what I would say to the Jennifer-of-long-ago if I could.  I thought long and hard about it, and here’s what my heart said:

1.  Don’t worry so much.  You spend an inordinate amount of time engaged in unnecessary worry.  If you’d devote the majority of the time you spend worrying to actually experiencing and enjoying the world around you, you’d be a much happier person.

2.  Understand that each heartbreak is a natural part of life.  The lesson is not in the heartbreak, rather the journey to recovery ahead.  An amazing, intelligent, funny, loving, selfless, hard-working, family-oriented, sensual, strong man is out there.  His name is Curtis, and believe me, he’ll be worth the wait and heartache.  You’re not ready for him yet, but don’t give up on the belief that he’s out there.  And yes, before you ask, he’s waiting for you, too.

3.  Stop cheating and underestimating yourself.  You’re not only entitled to but are SUPPOSED to demand only the best, stop short at nothing to achieve your goals, dream as big as the sky, and be happy.  God gave you life to live.

4.  SING!  Loudly and proudly and every chance that you get.  Let people hear that beautiful mezzo-soprano voice!  Stop hiding behind self-doubt and the fear of ridicule.  God gave you a gift that, trust me, isn’t always promised to be there.  Don’t hide behind self-consciousness.  You’ve got it, sister…now work it!

5.  Forgive more easily.  Understand that the reason you hold on to anger and sadness is fear.  You’re telling yourself that the anger makes you stronger…that angry, your eyes are forever opened and your ability to be re-injured, removed.  You couldn’t be more wrong.  Know that it takes amazing courage, beauty, and grace to forgive.  It’s easier to be afraid than to open your heart again.  Understand that forgiveness doesn’t give your harmers blanket authority to hurt you again.  It does, however, heal your heart and spirit by releasing unbearably toxic and incredibly hurtful, spiritually inhibiting feelings.  Please don’t wait until your thirties to let go.

6.  On the topic of letting go, stop focusing your energies on those things outside your sphere of control.  You control only Jennifer, today and tomorrow.  Every second spent focusing elsewhere inhibits your growth and your experience of the world around you.  Don’t squander the present and all its joys by focusing on things and people you simply cannot control.

7.  Stop being afraid of who you are.  So you’re fat?  Big fucking deal.  It’s not a secret.  It’s not like anyone looks at you and thinks, “Wow, swimsuit model-the anorexic edition!”  Stop trying to pretend you’re thin, apologizing for being heavy, and over-compensating for your weight every second of your life!  The only one who has hangups about your weight is you.  Sure, the children with whom you shared a childhood mistreated you because of your weight.  They were children.  The adults you encounter in college and thereafter see you the person, not you the body.  They will, however, focus on your weight and fail to see the good in you if you allow them to by hiding who you are because you’re afraid.  Give the people around you more credit…and, while you’re at it, give yourself more credit as well.  Never hide your light from the world because of fear.

I so wish that I could go back in time.  Certainly other people feel this way, too.  I realize that it’s a deeply personal question, but I’d love to know what you would say to yourself-of-long-ago if given the opportunity.  What have you learned in age that would have bettered your life, your heart, your thoughts so many years ago?  And would you go back?  Would you share these wisdoms with the undeveloped you?

Happy Thanksgiving!

As the United States celebrates all things thankful, I wanted to wish you and yours a blessed and beautiful day.  Even if your country doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope that you will make a personal commitment today to be cognizant of your blessings, to celebrate the good in your lives, and to serve as a light to others.

I am thankful today for so, so many things.  To list them would be both an arduous and an impossible task.  God has so richly blessed me with joy and love, light and opportunity…I am overwhelmingly grateful and humbled.  For the life I live, complete with health, means, blessings, and opportunities, I am grateful.  For an amazing, brilliant, funny, sensitive, selfless, hilarious, devoted husband, I am grateful.  For a bright, healthy, happy, sweet daughter and the opportunity to be a parent, something I thought would never, ever happen, I am grateful.  For a snuggly, snort-y, snore-y, smooch-y Boston Terrorista who makes me laugh, I am grateful.  For parents who love me and who gave me every opportunity to grow and learn, to love and truly experience life (and who remain constant fixtures in my life), I am grateful.  For a beautiful blended family, mine and Curt’s, who together provide us worlds of laughter, joy, love, support, richness and goodness, I am grateful.  For the friends who share our lives and who give color to the experiences we share, I am grateful.  For healing and forgiveness, and the light I’ve been given to let go and move forward, living and loving in the now with a future focus, I am grateful.  For a God who loves me, blesses me, nourishes me, enriches me, guides me, and shelters me, I am grateful.

Please remember today to keep in your hearts and prayers those who are in need.  Those who are suffering and ill, especially @AnissaMayhew and her amazing, brave family, my cousin Patrick and his brothers in sisters in combat in Afghanistan, the lonely, lost, and sad.  I hope that you have a wonderful Thanksgiving and a blessed holiday season!

Perspective

It’s 9:15 in the evening.  I’m enjoying the warmth of my home and the presence of beauty and good.  My beautiful daughter (who should be asleep!) is wide awake, laughing and goofing off with her father, my amazing, wonderful husband.  Snuggled up beside them on the couch, our snorting, sweet little Boston Terrorista pops an eye or two open between snores, comfortable in her surroundings and seemingly able to sleep…almost…amidst the laughter and noise.  I am home.  Warm.  Blessed.  Loved.   I feel such a sense of gratitude for the good in my life, and so unbelievably guilty when I lose sight, even if only for a moment, of those riches.  That happened to me this afternoon.

After a long and arduous day week month last several months at work, I finally gave in to the pressure and really “let it all out,” if you will.  Cried like a baby.  Lamented on and on about how “this isn’t what I signed up for,” and felt sorry for myself that I wasn’t one of the few chosen lucky who were able to secure posh social media jobs or, even better, who were able to devote her time to her child and other civic commitments and not a professional job.  I really had a good, old-fashioned “poor me” fest, complete with tears and plenty of self-pity.  My amazing husband (who always has a way of illuminating my path whenever darkness encroaches upon me) said all of the right things, including reminding me that many a person, himself included, would gladly accept my GS-12 position (and suffer the petty insensitivities and selfishness of colleagues and management) for the embarrassment of riches I’ve been given in salary, benefits, and opportunity.  I spent the evening loving my family, snuggling and smooching, doing homework and laughing and having dinner and being a family.  And then I took a moment to check in on @AnissaMayhew’s condition and was immediately reminded of just how blessed I am.

Anissa is a beautiful, young wife and mother of three who suffered a massive stroke last week.  Her husband is beautifully gifted with the written word, utilizing Anissa’s blog to keep her friends and the Internet community posted on her condition.  His post from earlier today brought tears to my eyes.  As I selfishly sat and lamented about my life and the goings on thereof, a young woman lay fighting to come back to the family she loves.  A family, grief stricken and sad, prayed and worried and hoped for a miracle.  I feel so tremendously guilty for my selfishness, and yet so very grateful for the good in my life.  My family, my health, our home and our friends and the means and opportunity with which we’ve all been blessed.  I share all of this with you to ask both for your continued prayers for Anissa, but too that you hold precious and dear your blessings.  That you never lose sight of the good in your life.  That you never allow challenges to cloud the clarity with which you view the good around you.  Knowing that Anissa would give anything to be in my place now makes me feel so unbelievably ashamed and small…and so unbelievably blessed and grateful.

Please, God, be with Anissa.  Bless her body with strength, her spirit with courage, and her soul with healing.  Bless all those who love her, especially her children and husband.  Bless the medical staff who are laboring so tirelessly to restore Anissa to wellness.  And bless all those who pray for her and her loved ones.

Anissa, Day Four

So we learned more today about what actually happened to @AnissaMayhew.  Her husband moved his updates on her condition to their family website, and posted the following heartbreaking information there this morning:

I’m going to need a little help on this one…

Nov 20th, 2009

by mayhewp.

This site has seen my family through many good times and bad in the past.  It’s time to dust it off and re-purpose it a bit.

This is that old comfortable pair of blue jeans you put on when you’ve got some work to do.

And we’ve got some work to do.

So, right now, I’m sitting on my couch, watching the exact same show I watched the first night when Peyton was diagnosed.  I just needed to hear the theme song really.  It’s kind of funny that the same episode is on….”Enterprise:  The Expanse”.  I really should be writing checks to bills that are piling up already and starting to organize my life and figuring out my wife’s “unique” filing system.

Why?

On Tuesday, Anissa suffered a massive stroke.  Then had another one sometime after the first MRI.

I was speechless and in some form of shock (still am) when the ER doctor told me this.  How could this be?  I was chatting with her not an hour ago.  We had both just agreed to give up our Christmas presents so we could stay in a nicer hotel over Thanksgiving while taking care of Anissa’s mom.  We were hoping we could finally give the kids our full attention for the first time in forever.  I was going to look up an old friend who has some pull at Riddle and see about getting a tour of the flight line for them.  Nathaniel’s at that age, and the girls would think it’s cool too.  We were going to grab a bite under the Port Orange bridge in the salty air, maybe even hit the Ocean Deck.

And now there she was with tubes in her mouth and unconscious?

How?

What we know is that she called me around 1:20 pm and said, “Somethings wrong with me.  I’m at a restaurant and just collapsed.  They are calling an ambulance.”  Then she hung up and didn’t respond to any calls.  Those were the last words I heard her say.

Since then it’s been one head doctor after another, some picture taking, grim looks, and waiting.  Lots and lots of waiting.

News of the second stroke was definitely not encouraging.  The first ER doctor said something about 20% survival rate, and he pretty much expected her to go anytime soon.  (Understand that’s what I heard/interpretted…in shock…may not be exactly what he said).  The neurologist just kinda looked at it and mumbled some words that didn’t sound encouraging.  She bled into the PONS area of the brain.  Haven’t had the chance to google that, so I set some friends on it to filter for me…not good news…but playing Dr. Google rarely gives good news.

I really just keep feeling like I’m in a bad dream.  Do these people not realize who they are dealing with?  This is Anissa Mayhew.  The strongest, most amazing woman I’ve ever met.  She’s thirtyfreakinfive and can move mountains with her smile.  She can beat this.

There was some hand squeezing the first evening.  Baby step, but encouraging.

Then came the news of the second bleed.

That’s when I decided to bring the kids up.  If she was going to go, I wanted them to have a chance to see her.  I wanted them to give her a fighting chance and for her to hear and remember in some remote part of that brain exactly who and what she was fighting for.

So, the director of the hospital agreed to let the kids in.  They donned masks and trudged up to her room.  They knew mom was bad and that she hadn’t opened her eyes and had tubes keeping her alive.  They talked a little bit, were afraid a little bit, and sad too.  But God bless my kids.  They are all too familiar with hospital trips.  2 of them have been visiting hospitals for more than half of their lives.  They told her how much they loved her.  They are strong.  They get that from their mom.

About twenty minutes after they left, Anissa started fighting.  A little at first.  But, it’s always darkest before the light.

She started showing signs that she’s in there.  There was more movement on her left side.  Somewhat coordinated turning of the head and reaching with her arm to get the tube out of her mouth.  She opened her eyes briefly.  Thursday, she opened her eyes a fair amount.  There’s no recognition in there yet.  But I believe that will come.  She’s turned her head to acknowledge a different voice.  All of this wears her out quickly, but she’s fighting.  That’s encouraging in itself.

Now what?

Someone is with her around the clock.  The cavalry came up when they first heard the news.  I have gotten MANY questions of how can I help and what do I need.  I hear you all, and appreciate every single offer.  Please understand though, this is a marathon, not a sprint.  IF she comes out of this, it will be a long road to recovery.  Each of you will be able to help over the course of time.  I’ll make sure of it.  Right now, my kids need consistancy and people they know and trust.  That’s addressed.  Anissa and I need the experience of someone who’s been there and done that with regard to the brain.  That’s also addressed.  Lastly, she needs to hear familiar voices.  Check.  People are coming out of the woodwork to offer to help, and it is very much appreciated, but please understand that it may not be now that we need your help.  We’re covered through this week and next I think.  The Tampa Badge Bowl gang has graciously agreed to take care of Thanksgiving dinner.  My job has been absolutely AMAZING on this.  We definitely are surrounded by love.  He’s made sure of that.  I’m going to set up a controlled scheduling site so that people can sign up to help with things.

At this point, mostly what we need is prayer.  To my knowledge, I know of prayer chains in Europe, Africa, and North America.  Several small towns are praying.  Friends old and new, and complete strangers are praying.  That’s exactly what we need now.  Pray for her to make it through one more night with no more bleeding.  Pray for the blood in her head to recede.  Pray for her to come out of this.

Please pray for our family.  `

I’m going to need to lean on you all.  I’m not as strong as she is.

–Peter

I am so heartbroken, both about what has happened to this young woman and because of the resulting sadness and fear and the tremendous worry that Peter, their children, and their friends and family are experiencing right now.  I wish I could do more than pray for her…for them…sitting here behind a bright laptop in my warm home surrounded by the smell of homemade tacos and the sounds of my daughter’s reading and laughter.  Maybe my prayers and my voice are the best gifts I can give to them right now.  By each of us sharing her story, we inevitably ensure that more people know…pray…love.  Please, friends, keep them in your hearts and prayers.  It’s my very greatest hope that each heartbeat we send in her direction will give her soul the strength to triumph over the physical trauma that has plagued her innocent body.

I also want to send a special thanks to a new Twitter friend, iDuano, who has been trying to help me get the PayPal donation button for Anissa’s family to work on my blog.  So far, not so good, but he’s trying and I am grateful atop grateful.  The best possible use of social media is to uplift and support one another.  And so on, and so on…

Be blessed and well, dear friends.

 

 

Quick Update On Anissa

I just checked Anissa’s Caring Bridge website and her husband posted the following update at 7:28 a.m., PST:

Update from Peter:

Well.

I went home and stayed with the kids.

Her sister and friend stayed with her.

Apparently she had lots of eye movement this am.  Encouraging.

More scans this am.

Please keep those prayers coming.  She and her family need them desperately.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Never Underestimate The Richness Of Love

So I’ve been a rotten blogger of late (and by “of late,” I mean the last few years).  In fact, I’ve been lamenting on Twitter to anyone who will listen about the complete and total loss of my BlogMojo(tm).  Yes, the bloviating Kansas girl who once blogged about every aspect of her life seemed to totally lose interest in blogging altogether.  I made the move to WordPress thinking that would stimulate my writing juices.  Yeah, not so much.  So I’ve been trying to reinvigorate my e-writing prowess, and today, sad news came in the form of a tweet and I couldn’t help but blog about it.

I really love Twitter.  I mean, really love Twitter.  For some reason, I find it absolutely fascinating to follow people and learn interesting snippets about them and their lives (in 140 characters or less, mind you).  I’ve met some really great people there, and have really enjoyed seeing how this new form of social media has exploded.  People tweet about all sorts of things, but what I really love is seeing people use this fast-moving communication train to solicit help, prayers, support, and love for others.  I’ve been known to throw out an occasional prayer request or two, and I’ve tweeted love and support in return when the need for them has been expressed.  Today, it all hit a little closer to home.  Someone I’ve tweeted with a few times (and who I’ve listed as a TweetHeart here on my blog) suffered a massive stroke.  Her twitter name is @AnissaMayhew.  We run in the same tweet circle, if you will, so I saw posts about it right and left all afternoon.  Almost immediately, prayer requests came flooding in.  People were posting the hashtag #prayersforAnissa, and tweeters were blogging and sharing information about how to make donations for her family and other ways to help them in this time of sadness and need.  I saw a handful of tweets about how prayer and support are the best possible uses of social media, and it all clicked.  I want to be a part of that.  I want to use this blog, even if it’s only for tonight, to spread the word about this one person…this one wife, mother, friend, person…and to ask for your prayers, your love, your support, and your well wishes.

Anissa’s husband has established a website where he’ll be posting information about her condition and how you can help.  You can subscribe to the page to receive instant updates.  As I mentioned before, a PayPal account has been established to help the family with their expenses.  If you’d like to send a letter or card, or an age-appropriate care package or gift to her children (two daughters, kindergarten and third grade, and a son in sixth grade), you may do so at the following address:

860 Johnson Ferry Road 140-184
Atlanta, GA 30342

Never underestimate the rich value of love.  Of kindness.  Prayers.  Support.  Although you may not know Anissa, know that any goodness you show to her and to her family is felt.  Needed.  Appreciated.  It would mean the world to me if, as we come toward the “season of giving,” you would take a few moments to send well wishes and prayers to her, her family, and her doctors.  If your heart compels you to do more, please do.

Thank you so, so much.

Testing! Testing! Is This Thing On?

So the folks here at WordPress ran a blurb advertisement for PicApp, a new system that enables bloggers to add high-quality, free images to their site.  In an effort to see what the fuss was about, I thought I’d give it a whirl.  Would you believe that I only found one decent photo there?

Eh, oh well.  Ya get whatcha pay fo’, yes?

An Interesting Last Few Days…

So, a funny thing happened on the way to in Warrensburg this week…

A colleague and I were representing our agency yesterday at the Fall Career Expo at the University of Central Missouri.  It was an excellently organized event, and the staff, recruiters, and students were divine.  Well, a few of the students took it a smidge too far…all in fun, of course.  I’d stepped away from the table for a moment and my colleague and her cousin (a student at the university) chatted.  When I returned, two cutie pie senior boys were just-a-flirtin’ like mad.  Apparently, they’d been at the same bar my colleague and her cousin had been at the night prior.  They’d met and said hello, and were suddenly and surprisingly (? doubtful!) reunited at the career fair.  As I returned to the table, one of the cutie pie boys was layin’ it on thick, basically insinuating with a wink or two that I might join the gang for another round of drinkage at the bar.  Um, yeah, no.  Honey, I’m old enough to be your…much older sister.  And while I’ll take  a pass on the drink offer, I will thank you for momentarily making me feel, oh, young again.  And no, you can’t have my business card…or a job. 

Little did I know that at or around the same time I briefly lived the “MILF” life, my darling husband was nearly being arrested and beginning life as a felon (ha, just kidding honey!)  He accompanied me to Warrensburg (read: drove so I wouldn’t have to and carried my heavy recruiting materials.  Thank you, honey!) and during the fair, spent the day exploring the city and jogging.  He’s training for a marathon this weekend and thought that a free day in a new college town might be a great place to get in some last-second marathon training.  A former Airman with a love of photography, my sweetie thought it would be a great idea to run over at Whiteman Air Force Base and snap a shot or two of the basically harmless areas – front gate, base housing, Commissary.  Unfortunately, the Military Police and Johnson County Sheriff’s Department didn’t think his photo exploits harmless, and he was nearly arrested!  Once he explained that he was merely a photo buff exploring a new area and a former Airman who was interested in learning about an air base he’d not previously visited, the heat was off and he met some new friends who were enthused both by his knowledge of the Air Force as well as his extremely cool mobile technologies. 

Only my husband and I could almost get dates and almost get arrested in the same day.

Flash forward 24 hours to a completely different sort of experience.  Our second grade daughter’s parent/teacher conference was tonight.  Her teacher reported that she exceeds nearly every academic and social development standard set forth for her grade and age level, and that she, “…has the sweetest heart of all the kids in <her> class and <she> is so thankful <my daughter> is in <her> class.”  The running joke between my husband and I is that I can’t make it through a parent/teacher conference without crying, and tonight was no exception.  I was reduced to a blubbering, bawling mess, especially when she showed us examples of our daughter’s work and we read stories she’d written.  I am such a proud, proud momma.

I’m also on day #2 of my very own Aporkalypse.  It’s the Pig Pandemic…the Hog Hell…the Swine Suffering.  I’m sick as a dog.  While I firmly believe that the genius who invented Mucinex should be canonized, it alone is not doing the trick.  Bawling my eyes out tonight didn’t help me sinus-wise either.  Please pray for my sinuses and I!  I’ve got a ton-o’-work awaiting me at the office, an amazing second grader I want to spend time with, and a husband marathonning (new verb – use it in a sentence today!) on Saturday in the cold that I want to cheer on!