Let's give 'em something to BE EXCITED about...

Next weekend, I return to my college for the first time in about 8 years for OBU Homecoming weekend! Should be a riot!

The next weekend, I'm hoping to go to the Brownwood Sleep 'n' Eat, featuring Gayle & Lynn with grilled steaks and biscuits & gravy. Also, a double feature with 2 nights of 12+ hours of sleep.

The next weekend, I'm back in Austin for Christine's wedding...48 hours of Hoop-la beginning Thursday evening and going through Saturday night. Also hoping to see little Emma since I missed her last time.

Two weekends later, I'll be in San Antonio for my cousin's girlfriend's baby shower...quality time with the ladies of the fam! Also hoping to squeeze in time with my good friend Jenn that I haven't seen in a few years b/c she lived overseas.

AND the grand finale...2 1/2 weeks later, Jesse will arrive for the Thanksgiving holiday where we'll spend the long weekend gorging ourselves in Kerrville at Royce & Cynthia's.

I'M SO EXCITED!

PS Christine's bachelorette party last weekend in Austin was a blast...pics have been on Facebook if you're friends with me, but I hope to post here soon!

Labor Day in Seattle

On September 4th, the one year anniversary of Daddy's death, I flew out to Seattle to spend the long holiday weekend with my Jesse. I can't think of a better way to have spent that day, and am so grateful the timing worked out that I had this wonderful gift on that day.

After a LONG 11 weeks apart, Jesse and I reunited at the Seattle airport. We spent a moment getting over the "you're a stranger" thing again, but didn't have time to dwell on it because we had a packed weekend ahead!

We spent time with Jesse's best friend, Kjell (pronounced "shell"), and his girlfriend Patty. This was my first time to meet Patty because she lives in POLAND. And I thought Jesse and I have a long distance relationship! Here's Kjell & Patty making burgers.

We had crepes with my fantastic friend, Gina, at a lovely cafe on Capitol Hill. Gina was my BFF in 8th grade...as you can see, we still have our immature moments. Or, more accurately, I do while she watches.

I was so excited to see my roommate Leah, her awesome dog Sophie, and my old apartment for the first time since moving out in April. We had a great time catching up, and Sophie even posed for the camera!

Jesse & I spent an afternoon with his parents, Joe & Maggie. It was the perfect Seattle day - rainy and in the 60s. We had brunch at Portage Bay Cafe, famous for its fresh fruit bar and all-organic menu. I scarfed my favorite Cinnamon Twister French Toast...yum.

After lunch, the four of us went for a walk on "The Ave" in the U District. Maggie had heard about public art on all the street lights, so we went to check it out. Here are Joe & Maggie trying to stay dry and enjoy the art.

To have a break from the wet weather, we grabbed a drink and played a game of pool at "Earl's on the Ave." Joe kicked my tail, but it was still fun.

I've chosen just a few of the best (in my opinion) street light art. Businesses along The Ave all contributed to the designs.

Next scheduled visit: Thanksgiving--Jesse comes to Texas!
Only 10 weeks and 2 days to go...but who's counting?

Longing

I received a text today...a wedding is on the horizon.

I received an email today...a baby is on its way.

As a friend struggles through her husband's unemployment, I know it can't be easy. Yet, she has him. He has her. They have parents and siblings. To me, having those relationships trumps the trials. It makes them less scary than going through them alone.

As another friend goes through cancer, I know it is scary. Yet, she has him. He has her. They have two children. They have parents and siblings. Again, those relationships make the trials bearable.

For me, when the trials come, I have...me. And that makes the trials feel unbearable. I bear them, but I don't know how. I have panic attacks, and awful pits in my stomach from the fear of living my life alone...becoming an old Dog Lady (I'm allergic to cats). I know life wouldn't be easy, but I wish I had those relationships to guide and support me during my trials.

I know there are good things in my life, but I still find myself longing for family, immediate family. Someone to belong to everyday. Someone who thinks the sun rises and sets because of our love. Just one would be nice: a mother, a father, a brother or sister, a husband, a child. Just one of them. Most people have a few of them, many people have all of them. NO ONE I know has none of them. I have none of them.

For many years, I've watched people get married and have babies. Will it ever be my turn?

Am I living the life I want to live?

STILL can't get enough of...Emma!

A year ago today...part VI

Thursday, September 4, 2008

My alarm is going off. I stir from sleep. Why is my alarm going off if it's still dark outside? I reach for my cell to turn the alarm off...oh, it's not the alarm. I have a call. From an unrecognizable Corpus phone number.

I answer and the person says, "This is Randy, the nurse at Bay Area Hospital."

And I know this is it. Randy (yes, the nurse shares the same name as Daddy) tells me that Daddy's levels are dropping, and I might want to come down to the hospital. I look at the time. 1:45 am. Amy has woken up beside me. I ask if I need to come, if this is the end. Randy says he can't say, but that he is definitely deteriorating.

I put on my glasses and Amy sits up. I tell her what the nurse says and she begins to get dressed to go. Amy is pregnant and has been told by her doctor that she should try to remain as calm and stress free as possible. I'm thinking that taking her with me in the middle of the night to watch my father die is probably not keeping her stress free, so I tell her she doesn't have to come.

She insists on coming with me.

We drive Daddy's truck to the hospital. As we pull into the parking lot, Randy calls again. He wants to know if I have decided to come. I tell him we are in the parking lot and will be there shortly. He is clearly happy to hear this. I now know it's over.

Turns out that since ICU is closed to visitors, they close the entrance to ICU at 9:00 pm. Amy & I run around, find another entrance, and try to make sense of the hospital hallway maze. There are no signs to ICU. Finally, we find it and run into Daddy's room. It is 2:13 am.

Daddy's eyes are glazed over. I call Royce and wake him up. I tell him this is it as Daddy's levels plummet to zero. Within two minutes of my arrival, at 2:15 am, Daddy is officially pronounced dead. I'm telling Royce, "It's over. It's over. It's over." I can't think of what else to say.

Royce tells me that he & Cynthia will drive in tomorrow morning and meet me at the funeral home. They encourage me to go back to Amy's and try to sleep.

Randy tells Amy & me that he needs to unhook the machines and do some other things and asks us to leave the room. Five minutes later, we are allowed back in. Randy has closed Daddy's eyes, unhooked all the machines. He appears to be sleeping peacefully.

I crawl into bed with Daddy while Amy texts our friends. Randy tells me the coroner will arrive in about 45 minutes to take Daddy. It's only been about 7 minutes, already Daddy is cold and hard. How can life be gone just like that?

Christine arrives at the hospital. I'm still lying with Daddy, and she slips in next to Amy.

The coroner arrives and I am given a minute alone with Daddy. He's not there, and I know it, but I still hug his cold stone body and tell him it's okay that he left. Then I left.

Amy, Christine, and I decided to go to IHOP and get pancakes at 4:00 am. Poor Christine had work in the morning, so she left after IHOP. Amy & I returned to her parents' house. We rent a movie on demand. Amy fell asleep but I watch the whole thing. At 6:00 am, the news came on. The normal news. As if everything hadn't changed.

But everything had changed.

A year ago today...part V

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Jesse and I wake up early. We are quiet as we drive to the airport. I have no interest in continuing this horrifying reality without him. We arrive early enough that we can sit on this side of security and have breakfast. As has been the case, Jesse eats and I watch.

Finally, we can't wait any longer. Jesse hugs me tight, and gets in the security line. I watch him go through, tears brimming my eyes. Two older women who were sitting near us at breakfast ask me, "It's always hard to say goodbye, isn't it, honey?" I just nod and keep my eyes on Jesse. He waves after he gets through, and the tears are streaming down my face now.

Once he gets out of my sight, I turn around and leave the airport. Amy has promised to spend the day with me since Jesse is gone, and I have never been more grateful. I pick Amy up at her parent's house. We go to My Favorite Muffin for my self-induced therapy, and on to the hospital.

Today is not a good day for Daddy. He is not alert. He seems unaware of anything around him. He doesn't show signs of recognizing anyone. There is no joking around, no eye contact, no response.

It is 9:00 pm. The ICU visiting hours are over and we are being kicked out. I try to look Daddy in the eye (he looks at the ceiling) and tell him I love him. No response.

To be continued...

A year ago today...part IV

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Another night. Fitful sleep. No phone call. Daddy is still alive.

Another muffin to-go to the hospital.

Daddy keeps trying to talk. There's a tube down his throat. What basically comes out is a hoarse whisper. We find that even when we can hear what he says, it doesn't usually make any sense. I wonder what it's like to be hopped up on morphine. I wonder what Daddy thinks is going on. Does he think he's dying because I have flown in from Seattle and thrown myself on his bed, sobbing and saying I love you and apologizing for being a terrible daughter the past few years? Or does he even know what's happening?

It's hard to tell, seeing as how he says things that make no sense and grabs in the air at things that are visible only to him.

He's had nothing to eat or drink for more than 2 weeks. Nothing except the IV coursing through his veins. His lips are cracked and raw, dry from thirst. I ask the nurse for more swabs. When she brings them, I dip the swab in his water cup and hold it to his lips. He tries to suck on the swab. I wet his tongue, which is also cracked from dehydration.

I make my calls to Gayle and Kim. As I speak with them, I wander down the hallway. That's when I realize that outside the window at the end of the hall is Daddy's church. Mama's church. My church when I was little. Right there across the street.

When Jesse is in the room, Daddy watches him like a hawk. He has never seen me with a boyfriend before. I'm sure he is trying to figure out if Jesse is a hallucination from the morphine or if I've finally found a man.

Finally, Daddy looks at Jesse and whispers to Royce, "Well, I guess he's one of us now."

Later, he tells Jesse to come back and see him in four months. Jesse says he will.

At one point, he becomes annoyed with all of the women in the room and waves us off, but tells Jesse to come over to him. Jesse can't make out what he tries to tell him. I like watching them talk.

Jesse and I take a break. We walk to my elementary school, which is right next to the hospital. 25 years ago I had been a first grader here. We sit on the swings, and I start to cry. I can't believe that I am sitting in a swing that I might have sat in as an innocent little girl, yet can look up to see the hospital where my second parent is dying. I share with Jesse some of my childhood and the frustrations of being the child of a parent with limited mental capacity. And he was Jesse--patient and comforting.

Based on the fact that Daddy is still alive and quasi-alert, the nurse tells me that Dr. Brackett now gives Daddy a 5% chance of surviving. Doctors of different types come by throughout the day and examine Daddy. His previous physician visits, the one who told him at age 50 that since everything seemed to be normal he didn't need to have a colonoscopy. I wonder if he had had one, if it would have cut his life short by ten years or given him an extra thirty.

I am told that the miracle sign we are looking for is for Daddy to pass gas. I find this ironic, considering how often his stinky, stinky toots had sent me gagging. At a minimum, the doctor wants to hear sounds in his bowel. He puts his stethoscope to Daddy's abdomen and says he thinks he heard something. For the rest of the day, we hope for a toot.

That evening, we watch country music videos on CMT. Daddy seems to tune in once in awhile. I flip to the Astros baseball game, which Daddy loves to watch. He seems more interested in the imaginary things on the ceiling.

We turn in early, as I have to take Jesse to the airport in the morning. Without knowing how long this might go on, Jesse can't stay.

To be continued...

A year ago today...part III

Monday, September 1, 2009

No phone call through the night. I woke up and couldn't believe it. Daddy must still be alive, 40 hours after being given a prognosis of "hours to live." What did this mean?

Jesse and I stopped at My Favorite Muffin to pick up breakfast. I think this was my self-induced therapy for the next several days. I picked up the muffin because it was comfortable and familiar, never mind the fact that where I would take the muffin would be completely uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Never mind the fact that not a single muffin I bought during this visit would actually be eaten.

Jesse and I spent the day at the hospital. Visitors came and went: Daddy's roommate, Rose, his good friend, Guy, several people he worked with at the Post Office (he'd just retired in April after 39 years of service--don't get me started on the injustice of THAT), people from bowling league, people from square dancing clubs. My father had friends, that's for sure. He was one of the most loyal people I have ever known. He didn't know a stranger, and once you were his friend, it was for life. Most of the people who came to visit had known him longer than I've been alive.

I liked the visitors. For one, it was nice to see how much people loved Daddy. Two, it allowed me a few minutes to leave the room without worrying about him being alone. I would use those times to call Gayle & give her a brief update. After Gayle, I called Kim, who was my grandmother's great niece and caretaker for most of 2008. I didn't want to tell Grandma what was happening to her son-in-law until it resolved one way or another. I was lost without Grandma though. My only sanity when Mama had died was Grandma.

Daddy was fairly alert this day. He actually seemed like himself. He wasn't able to speak, but he joked around by his facial expressions, shooting up one eyebrow in the way he always did.

Dr. Brackett, who had performed both the initial surgery on August 19th and the follow-up where he discovered the mass on August 30th. Royce, Jesse, and I sat down with him and I finally began to understand most of what was happening.

Basically, my father's first surgery was a routine procedure to remove a large polyp. This happened on a Tuesday. Five or so days later, he became really sick and couldn't stop vomiting. They put him in ICU, but he was in stable condition. They just wanted to monitor him closely to see why he wasn't recovering.

They ran tests, one of them being a dye test. The dye never came out, so they decided to do exploratory surgery to fix the apparent obstruction. This surgery took place on August 30th, 11 days after the first surgery. It was supposed to be an hour or so, no big deal. I was fully aware of this much, as I had actually talked to my father on the phone a few times since his initial surgery. I knew he was going into surgery at 2:00 pm and should have been out to recovery a couple of hours later.

When Dr. Brackett opened Daddy up, he found something shocking that he had never seen before (and he was a seasoned doctor...not sure how long exactly, but he had white hair so you figure it out). He found an inflammatory mass tangled up in large veins that most of us do not have. My father, according to Dr. Brackett, had a unique anatomy with his colon on the left side instead of the right and these veins. Dr. Brackett didn't know for sure what had caused the mass but thought perhaps it was this unique anatomy. I have other ideas, like a knife slip.

Because of the veins, the mass couldn't be removed so Dr. Brackett attempted to resection Daddy's colon to bypass the mass. But he didn't really think it would work. Essentially, Daddy had a dead bowel and we were waiting to see if a miracle would happen. Dr. Brackett came out of surgery and informed Royce that Daddy had hours to live.

Here we were, two days later and Daddy was still alive. Nothing about Daddy was conventional. I wasn't the least bit surprised to hear that his colon wasn't like the rest of us. By Monday afternoon, Dr. Brackett expressed disbelief that Daddy was still with us and said that maybe a miracle would happen. He estimated Daddy's chances of survival at 1%, but said the septic shock (self-poisoning) that was going on in Daddy's body could perhaps go on a few days longer before he died.

I was glad Jesse was there to remember what the doctor had told us. As people called my cell, concerned friends who wanted to see how I was doing, I handed the phone to Jesse. Eventually, I gave him the cell. Just answer it and talk to them. Answer their questions so I don't have to.

Jesse was scheduled to leave the next day to return to the brand new job he had started the week before. He decided to stay an extra day, for which I was very grateful. We went to Amy's parents' house, one of my second homes, for a home-cooked meal and some relaxation before returning to Daddy's apartment for the night.

To be continued...

A year ago today...part II

Sunday, August 31, 2008

At 4:15 am, we went to Seatac to catch our 6:00 am flight to Corpus Christi. I had not received a phone call from Royce, so I assumed Daddy was still alive. We made it through security, and decided to buy breakfast at the Starbucks in the lobby. As we sat down, I got a call from a Corpus phone number. Not wanting to talk to anyone, but knowing it could be important, I answered. It was one of the pastors of First Baptist Church, who had heard about Daddy. I had no idea how.

We boarded the plane to Dallas, Jesse in the aisle seat and me in the middle. I put my head in his lap and tried to tune everything else out.

We landed in Dallas. Still no call from Royce, so I called him. Daddy was "hanging in there," and not in much pain, thanks to a lot of morphine. I began to think he would still be alive by the time we made it home. I talked to Gayle, Daddy's favorite aunt. We stopped at a restaurant and ordered barbecue to eat. Jesse ate his food, while I picked at my plate.

Finally, it was time to board our flight to Corpus. An hour later, Royce & Cynthia picked us up at the airport. While waiting at baggage claim, Jesse kept an eye on the luggage while I kept an eye on the door. Cynthia came running into the airport, hugged me, and said she was so sorry this was happening.

We piled into the truck, and Royce said, "Hi, Frank." I'm not sure why, but he thought I was dating someone named Frank.

We raced straight to the hospital. I mentioned needing to rent a car, and Royce reminded me that I could drive my father's truck. I thought how funny it was that my father would absolutely flip his lid if he knew I was driving his precious truck. He hardly let me ride in the passenger seat.

When we arrived at the hospital, I ran into Daddy's room, the first one on the left coming into the ICU. He grinned and threw his arms in the air while I leaped into the bed, careful not to undo any of the machines he was hooked up to. I couldn't believe how aware he was. He knew exactly who I was, and I had been told he wasn't aware of anything at this point. Royce told me that his nurse took him off the morphine for just awhile so he would be able to say goodbye to me when I arrived.

I realized that other people were there in the room at that point. They all left, so Daddy and I could be alone.

I cried and hugged him. I said I love you over and over again. He said he loved me too. I said I was sorry. He just looked at me. He asked me what he did wrong, why things were always so hard for him. I said I didn't know. See, my father had polio when he was a baby. His left side remained forever impaired by the polio. Some scar tissue remained on his brain also, which gave him a lot of challenges in his life. Then he developed epilepsy, and for a long time, had unpredictable seizure episodes. Life wasn't easy for Daddy.

I told him that if he needed to go that I would be okay. I didn't actually believe that, but I said it to him anyway.

Eventually, the ICU staff kicked us all out so they could do whatever it is that they do. Royce & Cynthia treated Jesse & me to dinner. My cousin, Kate, and her boyfriend joined us, as well as Amy. We all gathered for Mexican food, and it was strange to think that while we were eating dinner, my father was a mile away in a hospital bed dying. We even laughed a little. I felt guilty.

Royce & Cynthia dropped us off at Daddy's apartment for the night and told us they would see us at the hospital in the morning.

To be continued...

A year ago today...

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Jesse & I went to breakfast at one of my favorite places, Alki Bakery. At this time of year, Seattle is lovely. After having delicious breakfast croissants and sharing a cinnamon roll, Jesse & I decided to stroll along Alki Beach. It was very crowded that day, as it tends to be when the sun is out in Seattle. The mood was light and people were cheery.

We returned to my apartment, and I decided to go for a run while Jesse stayed back to study. I ran for nearly an hour, from my apartment in Fremont along Lake Union and almost to downtown. I remember looking out over the lake and marveling at how perfect things seemed to be. Finally, after a grueling job search, I had landed a position at the Art Institute of Seattle. Finally, after nine months of cold, rainy weather, the sun was out. Finally, things were looking up.

I returned to my apartment at about 3:00 pm. Jesse told me that my uncle Royce had called three times. He'd nearly picked it up the last time, but Royce finally left a voicemail. I listened to the voicemail and knew something was wrong. My father had had surgery to remove a large polyp on August 19th, and had not been recovering normally. He had gone into surgery again today so the doctor could see what the issue might be. I had told my boss the day before that it was all routine and everything should be fine, but there was a chance I might have to go to Texas.

I pulled off my running shoes, sat down in the middle of the living room floor, and called Royce. He said he had to tell me something about Daddy, and it wasn't good news. The words started running together and not making sense...

"Took him into surgery....found a large, inflammed mass...entangled in several veins and can't be removed...poisoning...septic shock...hours to live."

I began sobbing. "NO! NO! NO!" into the phone, willing Royce to stop saying such awful things. Willing him to stop saying what could NOT be happening. It was a polyp, a lousy polyp. It was a routine surgery. Everyone else recovers. He hadn't wanted the stupid surgery in the first place. He knew something would go wrong. I told him everything would be fine. I told him he was worrying about nothing.

How was I supposed to get to Texas within HOURS?

Jesse had run into the living room by this time and was holding me, trying to figure out what was going on, what Royce could possibly be telling me.

My roommate of 3 weeks walked into the apartment. I looked at her and continued sobbing. She went to her room.

Royce kept talking..."can come to Texas...we can help you get here...you do whatever you feel is right to do..." I said, "I'm coming. I will get on the next flight I can."

After hanging up the phone, I told Jesse I had to figure out how I was going to get to Texas. He said how "we" were getting to Texas. I looked at him, this boyfriend of 4 months, and said, "Okay, how are we getting to Texas?"

We went to the airport and found a nice woman with American Airlines who gave us a great bereavement fare. The plane left the next morning and got us into Corpus Christi at 4:00 p.m. Nearly 24 hours from when Royce told me my father had hours to live. We booked the flight and went back home.

We had been planning for over a month to see my new favorite movie, Juno, at the Fremont Outdoor Theater that night. Since we couldn't leave until the morning, and I knew I wanted to stay busy until then, we decided to keep our plans and go to the movie.

The evenings in Seattle get quite chilly, even in August. After 45 minutes, I told Jesse that I was cold so we left.

We went back to his house, and tried to go to sleep, knowing we had to wake up at 3:45 am to catch our flight.

To be continued...

Judging books by their covers

My most recent completed read was Admission by Jean Hanff Korelitz. It was recommended to me by my mostly-cyber-but-also-a-little-in-person friend, Jessica. It was the most beautiful blend of novel and higher education that Jessica knew would be the perfect fit for me.

But I have to admit it. It was the book jacket that got me. I love book jackets. They are colorful and shiny and have lovely emblems or pictures. A book is only as good as its' jacket's graphic designer. In my humble opinion. The jacket of Admission is a fabulous pale yellow with a large A in a fantastic font. The piece de resistance is the ivy (get it? Ivy League...) wrapped cleverly around the A.

Two weeks ago, I dogsat Bella & Tony while Uyen was out of town. Uyen had warned me that Bella loves to eat paper, so when I first began dogsitting her, I made sure I left no paper or books in her reach. One day, I forgot but when I arrived home after work, it did not appear that Bella had consumed any paper products, so I decided it was safe to leave my books on the bottom shelf and other low-lying places.

I was dogsitting Bella & Tony while reading Admission. I had been deeply entrenched in the world of Portia Nathan and the Princeton University admission process when it finally happened. I came home after work to find the jacket of Admission torn to pieces. While the actual book was perfectly salvaged and readable, Admission lost its luster. To me, it was now just a brown book.

Oh, I still read it. I still wanted to know what happened to Portia. But it wasn't the same. The reading experience lost much of its pleasure...all because my beautiful ivy-covered A was no longer there.

To see the cover for yourself, go here.

I have decided to save a little money by checking books out of the library rather than buying them. Right now, I am reading Joe College by Tom Perrotta. I'm experiencing quite a bit of disequlibrium between the exhilaration of reading new books for free, yet not knowing what the covers look like. See, when you check hard-cover books out of the library (pardon me if I am insulting your intelligence by explaining this), they have removed the book jacket. Not only am I missing the aesthetically pleasing book jacket, but I found it nearly impossible to enjoy perusing the aisles of books without the benefit of the synopsis normally provided in the book jacket. I had to rely on the appealing title to guide me.

I didn't get far into Joe College before my concentration broke and I had to know. What does the book jacket look like? Go here if you are just as curious.

Hi, my name is Peggy. And I judge books by their covers.

So...tired...must....rest...now.

Orientation was Tuesday. 12.5 hour work day. Nearly got stuck in the elevator with student worker (who thought us being stuck was hilarious).

Registration was Thursday. 10 hour work day. 3,258 pissed off students unable to get into some class or another.

Water main break was Friday. 8 hour work day, but had to go potty at the next building over. Did not get the email with this information until after I had gone potty in our building. Thought co-worker & friend, Icy, who was in there just ahead of me, was DISGUSTING for not washing her hands. Before I knew there was no water. Then realized I could still be friends with her.

We have decided we will never, EVER, do orientation during the week registration opens. Ever. Ever.

Just when I think some of my friends, who shall remain nameless, have quit blogging for all eternity, they return with a witty vengeance. Glad to see you back, Paula & Maggie. Others, who shall remain nameless, have yet to return and just might get kicked off my "Blogs I love and you should too list" (to your right). Are you coming back, Nicole & Abby? There are others, who shall remain nameless, who so regularly update only 3 times a year that I keep them on the blog roll, knowing that one of these 90 days, there will be an update. Kate.

It's shaping up to be a splendid weekend. MelSat is on her way to Denton as I type. MelSat, one of the funniest people ever to grace Earth, will no doubt have stories of meth mommies and other dysfunctional folks to tell...because when you're a social worker in Tulsa, Oklahoma, what else is there to talk about? We will meet up with Amy tomorrow because she is in town visiting the in-laws. The plan is to have lunch and then go ice skating. Ice skating. Have I mentioned that Amy (LOVE HER) is one of the clumsiest people ever? Surely, ice skating will be a treat. Funniest Person Ever and Clumsiest Person Ever on ice skates. Bring it.

As if that wasn't enough, the co-workers and I are hitting up the Movie Tavern in Denton to see The Time Traveler's Wife tomorrow night. We've already read the book, which had me boo-hooing so I'm certain there will be nothing left of me when I walk out. So, we've decided to go get drinks after the movie to soothe ourselves.

Sunday, I will sleep.

Weekend Update

I've lived in Denton since April 11...4 months today, hard to believe. In some ways, it's gone by quickly but in other ways very slowly. I will say that each month goes more quickly and I've gotten more adjusted. In my 4 months here, this past weekend was my 4th to stay in Denton (including Jesse's visit). I've been doing lots of traveling, needless to say. But it was pretty nice to settle in with a couple of movie rentals on Friday afternoon/evening instead of making poor Louise take me across the state somewhere.

Watch "New in Town" and "Bart Got a Room"--check
Work out to The Biggest Loser Cardio Max video--check
Lay out by the pool--check
Work out to The Ultimate Tae-Bo Workout--check (and near-death experience)--check
Sleep in until 10:30 am (Saturday) and 11:45 am (Sunday)--check
Read at Barnes & Noble with an iced chai latte & Asiago cheese pretzel--check
Find a fabulous steal-of-a-deal on silver sandals at Urban Outfitters--check
Enjoy a delicious Mexican meal at Gloria's with new friend Amber--check
Laughed til I cried at Improv Comedy, thanks to Last Comic Standing's Lavell Crawford and his amazing opening act--check
Adopted Bella & Tony for the week--check
Grocery shopping--check

Not too shabby for a weekend in Denton.

The Story of the Good Advisor

*Note: This is a true story, based on actual people and events. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Amanda*. She was 18 years old, and her parents had just announced their divorce to her and her younger brother. Amanda moved with her mother and brother to the Midwest, thousands of miles from the New England home where she had lived her entire life.

Amanda decided to attend college at the state university in town. However, she lacked direction or a clear plan for her life and did poorly in classes. After two years of wandering, she decided that college was not for her, and she left.

Working at a GAP in the city, her academic advisor visited every three months without fail. Ms. Advisor left her business card and an encouraging remark for Amanda, reminding her that if she decided to return to college, Ms. Advisor would help her every step of the way.

After two years of these visits, Amanda walked out of the GAP and back into the gates of State U. She marched into Ms. Advisor's office without an appointment or any forewarning, sobbing over her feelings of lostness and failure.

Ms. Advisor picked up Amanda's mantle, connecting her to a full-ride scholarship and sources of support for students like Amanda. With these connections and Ms. Advisor's constant guidance, Amanda graduated from State U in two years with honors.

Amanda now has a Master's degree in higher education and advocates for students like herself in her position as a coordinator of Student Activities at Big Texas U. She hopes to earn a Ph.D. after gaining more work experience. Amanda concluded her story by saying, "Ms. Advisor changed my life. I wouldn't be where I am today without her."

And that is what I can only hope a student will say about me someday.

What I've been up to...

5 years of growing my hair out...gone in an hour!

Weekend at the Brownwood Sleep-N-Eat with Gayle & Lynn
Royce & Cynthia joined in!

Dogsitting beautiful Bella

Dream Wedding Entrance

I heard about this on the radio the other day and was dying of curiosity...so glad I found it on You Tube! Wouldn't I love to see my best friends doing this??

Another sad goodbye...

In 2002-2003, I lived in Senegal, West Africa. I moved to Senegal on short notice because I was kicked out of Cote d'Ivoire where I'd been living and working for the past year due to a civil war breaking out in the country.

Upon moving to Senegal, I moved in with a girl who really liked to hug people. Kate & I lived in a truly West African apartment. We were the only white people on our street. One day, our West African plumbing went to crap (no pun intended...seriously, I didn't see it coming until I read it) and water flooded our poor downstairs neighbors, the Niang family.

17 year old Amadou helped us control the flooded apartment building, and quickly became a close friend, as did the rest of the Niang family. I told many stories of this family to my own friends & family back in the States and tried to convey the close friendship Kate & I had developed with the mother, Ndeye (pronounced "day"), and her 4 sons, Amadou (17), Pappi (15), Souleymane (10), and little Cire (5). The first (and only) daughter, Yacine, was born just before I had to return to the States.

We hung out with them constantly, and benefited from the fabulous cooking skills of Ndeye's househelpers. We played with the kids and grew to love each of them in a special way. Just as in America, Souleymane (or Souley, as his mother called him) seemed to almost disappear from attention as the middle child. He had a shyness about him that made you just want to shower affection on him.

In 2005, we recieved news that the father of this family passed away. Kate, Kari, Marcy, and I all hurt for this family that experienced such a great loss. Today, Kate let us know that little Souleymane passed away in an accident last week. I don't know any details, but my heart immediately felt a deep hurt over losing him. Though I haven't seen or talked to him since my visit in 2005, the Niang family, and Souleymane, are often in my thoughts. This is a very special family. Please consider praying for them when you read this blog.

Souley, Yacine, and Cire (I believe this was around 2004)

Today

I have some thoughts. They aren't very profound, neverthless, here they are.

For those who didn't see it on my facebook status, I saw a sign the other day near my place for "Mable Peabody's Beauty Parlor & Chainsaw Repair...night club." What. I was dumbfounded, so befuddled by this mysterious place that I missed the light turning and was honked at by a rather disgruntled gentleman in a truck made circa 1975. "Well, excuse me sir...but do you not see the stranger than strange place claiming to be a business?" A friend of mine has since confirmed that it is a gay/lesbian bar. I still don't get it.

Jillian is down to two eligible gentleman on The Bachelorette. I was all for Ed, who bares a striking resemblance to Denny from Grey's Anatomy, until he wore an atrocious pair of swim trunks and awful suit that were from the same year as the truck in my first anecdote. (Yes, I choose my men based solely on what they wear.) However, Kiptyn is just...too perfect. Something must be wrong. Jillian's decision-making has been quite wackadoodle all season (I know, the pot calling the kettle black) so I'm a little worried about the poor girl, but hopefully all will be right in this not-reality world.

I am bored at work. I haven't been bored at work in a long time. In fact, I have been feeling like I am on a treadmill, running and getting nowhere, most days because we have been that busy. The last memorable time I was really, really bored at work was Labor Day 2006. I joined eHarmony because I had too much time on my hands, filled out their 1000-question profile, and then was annoyed to find that my first match was smokin' HOT and I could only talk to him if I joined. I am now trying to blog my boredom away because I obviously shouldn't join eHarmony again...Jesse probably would have a problem with that.

Speaking of the devil...ahem, I mean, speaking of my fantastic boyfriend, I bought a ticket today for a Labor Day holiday weekend in Seattle. Yay! Only 45 days til I see my Jesse...but who's counting?

And finally, after searching and searching (okay, I looked once) for a bike, my co-worker gave me her twice-used mountain bike for free! Immediately, I took the bike to a local shop where they aired my tires, adjusted the seat, and helped me strap a bike rack onto my car. On the way out, after owning my bike for less than an hour and having yet to even ride it, I nearly broke my toe on the bike rack leaving the store. There was cussing and gnashing of teeth for about 3 minutes. Since then, I have enjoyed watching my toe take on the colors of the rainbow.

Can't get enough of...

Miss Emma Byrd!

Auntie Pegs went to visit Amy & Emma (and Josh) this weekend...the last time I saw Emma, she was about 6 weeks old...now she is just shy of 4 months! So there's been a lot of growing and I got some great pics on my new digital camera!

Behold, the beauty that is Emma:

Mama (Amy) Byrd, Emma, and Me (with the diaper bag)

Josh stayed home with Emma & Maggie (the pooch) while Amy and I went to a movie (The Proposal, for inquiring minds who want to know)...what a good daddy!

Look at those squeezable cheeks!

And that adorable smile!

Emma & Auntie Pegs hanging out

Inside...

Inside, I feel sad.

Inside, I grieve deeply. Everyday.

Inside, I can't believe they are all dead.

How did I get here? I am only 31. I haven't gotten married or had kids. And now, now I have...

No Mama.
No Daddy.
No Aama.
No Russell & Louise.

I miss my mama. My warrior. The one who loved me when I lied to her face (it was only a white lie, but that seemed to matter little.) The one who came to my kickball games dressed in our team's colors and yelled louder than any other parent. The one who supported me by herself (and some child support) through five years of divorce. The one who called me Peaches & Pumpkin Cream Pie (don't ask, I have no idea to this day).

I miss my daddy. The one who took off work and got on an airplane, two things he hadn't done in 20 years, to see me graduate with a master's degree. The one who could never say or do anything unkind to anyone. The one who loved to joke and tease and always have fun. The one who snored louder and tooted stinkier than anyone I've ever known.

I miss my beloved grandmother who was my best friend. For those of you who may not know, she is the one in the picture with me at the top of this blog. The one I called Aama, which means "Mama" in Nepalese, though I had no idea when I began calling her that. The one I talked to everyday. The one who always picked up the phone, no matter what time it was. The one who never, ever got tired of listening to my stories. The one who stood at her driveway and waved until my car was out of sight. The one who was my rock, my pillar. The one for whom there are no words to describe all of the ways she was "the one who."

I miss my grandfather who I was terrified of for a good part of my life, but I later understood loved me so much. The one who helped pay for my college to make sure I had a good education. The one who laughed when the juice from my corn on the cob splattered on his right spectacle despite the utter impropriety of it.

I miss my other grandmother who helped to raise me during the years of divorce. The one who took it upon herself to teach me what it means to have self-respect and dignity. The one who painstakingly tried to teach a pre-teen good manners and how to be a proper lady. The one who is responsible for the best breakfast meal ever, Golden Rod Eggs.

Within the past 10 months, 3 of them died. I was at the bedside of one, my father, as he took his last breath and left this world. Within the past 2.5 years, 4 of them died. At the age of 19, this daughter lost her mother. I often wonder, what will become of me? My heritage is all gone. I don't even have a brother or sister to share this load of grief with. How will I get married and have kids without them? Worse, what if I don't get married and have kids, and this was the last of the family I will have?

Everyday, I miss these five pillars. Everyday, I wonder how I will continue without them. I miss their voices. I miss their wisdom. I miss their touches. I miss their unconditional, always & forever love.

Inside, I miss them.