Yesterday was an emotional day for me. I apparently portrayed myself as a crazy person. Honestly, I don’t care what anyone thinks about how I raise my daughter. She’s MY daughter. I get to make the choices, and as long her HER FATHER approves of how I am raising her, I am comfortable with the choices I make.
That said, the comments you can view on yesterday’s post are the ones that came from people who weren’t spending their time ridiculing me and telling me that I am twisting my daughter’s mind and trying to make her a clone of myself. If any of the people who think I’m trying to clone myself knew my daughter, they’d know I would have to give that up as a lost cause immediately, because she’s far more like my sister - which is a good thing. I love that my daughter is independent and yet still trusts me. I raised her that way intentionally. I’m independent, but don’t necessarily trust my parents. It is a sad way to live, but one born of necessity.
I also received emails, text messages, twitter-and-plurk responses, and private messages on FB. I loved most of the responses, and enjoyed the viewpoints all of you shared (as long as you weren’t attacking me - those I ignored).
I honestly don’t “restrict” much of what she sees when she’s WITH me, because I like her being exposed in my presence, so if she has questions or concerns, she can get the answers directly from me. I realized a long time ago that if I planned on letting her have a life, she was going to be exposed to things I thought were too “old” for her, whether I wanted her to be or not. There were certain “kids” movies that I preferred she wait til she was 5 or 6 to see, but she was watching them at her friends’ houses at 3 years old. I didn’t want to introduce horror and creepy sci-fi movies into her life until she was 8 or 9, but my (step)Dad had her addicted to them when she was 5 years old.
She heard White & Nerdy before she heard the original, and it cracked her up. When I told her it was a parody, she asked what that meant, so I showed her a couple of parodies he had done when I was in high school. She enjoyed them, and they made her laugh, so she’s definitely more interested.
What worries me about some of that music is 1) she’s hearing it AWAY from me, so I cannot impart my concerns as she’s being exposed and 2) I do not necessarily think she needs to OWN it just because she’s heard it elsewhere. She spends more time under my or my BFF’s care than any other, so as long as she’s listening to “approved” music during those times, she’s being influenced by positivity more often than not.
We’re all exposed to things that we don’t necessarily think are “good.” We can’t control the world. My only intent is to increase her awareness, surround her more with beauty than destruction, and give her a chance in life to appreciate things that have meaning and spread joy, rather than cause pain and are filled with nonsense.
I have a friend, Joe (I call him Dr. Joey … but he may not want the world referring to him that way!) whom I have known since high school. He married a lovely lady, Meggan, a couple of years ago (it was a BEAUTIFUL wedding, and I was thrilled to be invited and included in the fun!).
Meggan & Joe recently had a beautiful son, Ashton (April 4th). Unfortunately, they didn’t get to enjoy the first few weeks of his life because he had some very scary things going on. Ashton was transferred to the Birmingham Children’s Hospital the next morning, while poor Meggan was still recovering in the hospital where she delivered. Over the next 2 weeks, I watched their Facebook pages like an eagle, seeing updates about how Ash had thrown up blood, was having “brady” episodes (I’m not sure what they are, and I didn’t ask questions at the time), and about how he needed an endoscopy and echocardiogram.
Little Ashton was finally able to go home on April 19th (YAY!), and everyone breathed a little easier. It wasn’t until today, though, when I saw this update, “took Ashton to the cardiologist today. He was given a clean bill of health and they discontinued his heart monitor and there are no follow up appointments! Yay!” that I felt like I could truly celebrate for Joe & Meggan.
Congratulations, Meggan & Joe!! I’m so happy Ashton is healthy, and I know you’ll be amazing parents. I cannot wait to meet him and to see the both of you again!
Today, my BFF’s daughter is the big oh-five! We’re having a small party for her with the daycare, and a cute little PINK cake! She LOVES pink. She loves pink like it is her JOB. Her room is pink. She has the pink strawberry shortcake bedspread. She likes to wear pink every day! She’s the pinkest pink girl I have met since I met Christy 20+ years ago, and even CHRISTY wasn’t this pink fanatic!
So, Happy birthday, sweet Kaitlyn. We love you and all of your pink princessness, and hope you have the best 5th year EVER!
xoxo
This cake took Christy less than an hour - she’s getting better and better! And Kaitlyn LOVED it. Plus, it was strawberry. YUM!
On another note, yesterday I completed day 2 of the 30D(S)Challenge. I felt great immediately afterward … but then as the day wore on I was increasingly sore. By last night, I couldn’t move. Seriously. I was on my big, comfy chair, I had put away the dinner stuff, cleaned up a little bit … and was going to sit and watch TV for a couple of hours before bed. At about 2 a.m., I realized I was tired … but couldn’t get motivated to move. Every time I tried, my muscles screamed and stabbed me. HARD. So, I relaxed back into the chair, and decided to watch one more show. Then, one more. By then, it was nearly 4:30, and I knew I should get up, so I lay back & closed my eyes, willing myself to gather my strength.
I woke up at 7 a.m. in a very painful, awkward position. Apparently, I had TRIED to curl up into my chair, but my cats had gotten in the way, so I worked myself around them. And got stuck. I got up (slowly, painfully…) and moved to my bed, and promptly passed out, again. I didn’t move til 9 a.m., when my (triplet Mom) friend sent a text to say the babies are sick, and she was on the way to the doc with little Pop (Sophie). I rolled over, grabbed a book I’ve been trying to finish since last month, and read. Until Christy sent a text saying she’d be over soon.
Yes, I know I should have exercised. I couldn’t. Seriously. My muscles are just now loosening up, and it is 3:30 in the afternoon! Tonight, though, when I get home from helping Christy with the daycare, I will Shred it up. And then I think I need to do some extra stretching. In fact, we’re looking for my Yoga DVD now, because I’m stealing it back … yoga should help me loosen up a bit. I hope. I can’t feel like this again tomorrow!
And no, I’m not whining. I’m actually laughing at myself. I’m bummed out that my Shred partner has backed out and is doing other stuff … but I’m still gonna Shred, regardless. I know it is giving me more of a workout than the other things I could be doing, and in the long run, I know I’m going to meet my goals! I just hope tomorrow I don’t feel like such a wimp! *grins*
I hope all of my 30D(S)C partners are exercising, and enjoying their exercise! I know if you’re not used to it, you’re probably hurting too. I also know that if I can do it - and I’m obese and a very lazy person - then you can, too!
I cannot tell you how excited I am that some of my friends are participating in this challenge with me! We have grown from 2 definite members to 7, with 3 more potentials! No, it isn’t a huge number of people. That’s okay. My mission was to get ONE person to join in with me and my initial supporter. I’ve surpassed that, and my other friends are excited about the Challenge as well!
My sleep schedule is WAY off, as you all may have noticed. I went to bed about 5 am, woke up at noon, exercised at 2:30-ish. Tomorrow I will have to try to wake up earlier, because I have a standing appointment with BFF (Story time at the library with the Daycare, lunch, and Wal*Mart). I am fairly certain I’ll end up exercising later in the night, but I am hoping I can motivate myself to get it out of the way first thing, instead.
Anyone who wants to join can still take a peek here for the basic information, and send me an email! It doesn’t matter when your 30 days begins, all that matters is that you make the choice and stick to it!
So, I am going to drink some more water, take an Advil so I don’t wake up incredibly sore, curl up on the couch for some TV time, and try to be in bed by about midnight.
(Please note, the links below will lead you to 3 different places where you can follow/track/admire the progress of Layers of Love. Check all three out, and follow the one most convenient to you!)
Our Girl Scouts have been active in community service this year, more than previous years. They have “adopted” a local retirement home, and go once a month to do arts and crafts activities with the residents. We love that the girls really enjoy this service, and look forward to it every month.
A few months ago, a friend of mine developed a foundation - Layers of Love - that donates fleece blankets to the Cooper Cancer Institute, where her father is receiving chemotherapy treatments. I knew, immediately, that this is something our girls would be excited about. I cannot think of anyone who hasn’t been close to someone who has been affected by cancer, at the very least. Most of the people I know have been affected directly, if not afflicted themselves.
In 2005, both my (step)Mother and Aunt died of cancer, just months apart.
In 2008, my best friends NEW BORN BABY was diagnosed with cancer.
In each of their fights, I agonized over not being able to do enough, ever, for the person fighting. Nor could I do enough for the family and friends, who were also affected by the pain.
I always wanted to do more, be more, give more … but I did not know how, or where to start, or what to give. I admire people like Adele, who not only WANT to do more, but also put that want into action. She’s incredibly proactive, and I admire her spirit, strength, and capacity to give everyone in her life exactly what they need. I don’t know how she does it, but she is the epitome of ROLE MODEL.
When Adele (my nickname for her) began spreading the word about her foundation, I brought it immediately to my daughter’s GS Troop Leader (who also happens to be my BFF). She was as excited as I, and we immediately began making plans to make blankets with the girls when she officially became Leader (and I, co-Leader).
I began go get a little worried about whether we would be able to make it happen or not, because we kept having to cancel GS meetings due to illnesses, scheduling conflicts, and interference with holidays (mainly, spring break). We became slightly frustrated, but kept the blanket idea at the top of our list. We were determined to not only make blankets for Layers of Love, but also to eventually make MORE blankets to donate to Sacred Heart in Pensacola, where Seralyn (Baby S) received her chemotherapy treatments (and spent the majority of her first year of life).
FINALLY, last week things all fell into place. We had a meeting set up, we needed a craft to complete during said meeting, and the no-sew fleece blanket kits were on sale at the fabric store! We excited made a short day trip down to the next town over, and purchased EIGHT kits. We walked down the aisles, seeing one pattern after another that caught our eye (cheerful, cheerful, cheerful!), picking up one blanket, replacing another, and picking up three more. We finally had to stop ourselves when we hit eight, because we knew we’d also have to budget in shipping, plus we wanted the girls to be able to complete the blankets in one meeting.
Friday, I spent the afternoon doing the prep work for the blankets - matching the two pieces of fabric up back-to-back, cutting the 7″ squares out of the corners, drawing lines for the girls to cut the strips (which they would then tie). I recruited my daughter (who is one of the Girl Scouts) and BFF’s teenage daycare charge to help me, and we managed to get the blanket kits prepped, folded, and packed for the meeting right on time!
The Girl Scouts were then in charge of cutting the strips and tying them together, being careful not to cut any of the strips off, and to match them up properly so the blankets didn’t end up twisted and short!
They all had such a blast with this project, it was a real joy for everyone involved. We were pleased the girls were able to complete all eight blankets, and the girls were pleased that the blankets were going to such a wonderful cause!
Thank you Adele and Layers of Love for providing a way that we can all help, one blanket at a time!
So, a couple of weeks ago, I went with Christy & her daycare kids to the local strawberry fields. Christy takes the kids every year, but this is the first time I was able to go, too. I was especially excited, since I’d recently started flipping through Our Best Bites for recipes, and found this one for Strawberry Freezer Jam. It isn’t their original recipe (although they have many of those), but without seeing this I would not have known how easy it is to make strawberry jam at home, nor would I even have had the idea to do so!
(Quick side note - if you like to cook, or if you are trying to up your kitchen skills with creativity, healthy ideas, or even a few simple go-to tricks, check out Sara & Kate’s website. When I found my way to their website from a link my cousin posted, I spent a few hours just perusing their website when I should have been sleeping!)
Back to the topic at hand.
We had a bus full of people with us (only we brought 3 vehicles): Christy & her children plus her daycare children, her Mom & 2 nephews, and her cousin & her three boys. It was quite the crew! I grabbed a box and took the 4 month old in her car seat, little Ava (nearly 2), and nephew Cole (4), and the middle cousin (2 or 3?). Later, Seralyn joined me, too. I’m not sure how I got the youngins, and as afraid as I was of what they would pick, they did mostly get me ripe-ish, whole-ish berries. In the long run, I was able to use most of what was in my box.
One of my pretties:
We had a great afternoon, picking berries. Then, we got the kids fresh strawberry yogurt (they make it on site), and Christy & I ate strawberry shortcakes (the cake is also made on site). Everything was amazingly delicious, and it was a WONDERFUL afternoon! We were even able to do it on a day that all of the elementary school-age children had an early-release day, so we had the whole gang with us!
This was my box:
That weekend, Rena and I sat down and started cleaning berries. We washed them, cut the stems off, then cut off any areas that looked bruised or had lumps. We piled them up into an 8-cup batter bowl, a 16-cup serving bowl, and an 8-cup serving bowl. We had A LOT of strawberries! (YUM!)
Just 1/4 of our catch:
At this point, I sent Rena off to do other things because our kitchen is tiny, and I cannot stand to have more than one person in there at a time. I got started mashing our berries. I was very upset to discover that I didn’t have a potato masher (I have since purchased one, but that is a post for another day), so I had to get creative. I also do not have any fancy kitchen gadgets, like a food processor. So, I mashed some berries with a fork. Others, I dropped into my Magic Bullet (I have found the MB doesn’t get any of my blended items as smooth as I’d like, so I figured it would be perfect for leaving my berries lumpy). The berries I ended up with were juicier than Kate’s from OBB, but I decided to run with it anyway. After all, she’s already talented in the kitchen. I’m still learning.
My berry mash:
I measured out 4 cups of sugar for each of the two batches of strawberry jam I was making, and folded it into the berries.
Then, I mixed the pectin and water over the stove,
… and added it to the mixture.
I divvied each batch into 4 medium-sized containers, then labeled them carefully.
After a full day in the kitchen, I had 10 containers of strawberry stuffs. We let it “set” til the next day, then started distributing to a few people, telling them to put it in the freezer for a few days before eating it. I have only a couple left, for me and Christy; they’re waiting in the freezer til either of us runs out of our store-bought jam/jelly.
I found that some of the containers “set” better than others - even within the same batch. Odd. Personally, I’m not too worried about it being a little extra moist - I plan to use at least one batch, maybe two, in a secret project for Christy’s birthday next month. It’s another recipe I found on Our Best Bites, and I’m SUPER EXCITED to be making it for her. But Christy reads my blog now, so I can’t tell you what it is until I’ve made it for her! *grins*
Next time I decide to get this ambitious, I won’t refrigerate my berries first. I’ll have to make sure I pick them earlier in the day so I can bring them straight in and crush them while they’re still warm from the sun. I’ll also have my potato masher to help out, so they shouldn’t get quite so juicy. Maybe then ALL of my containers will “set” properly. Then again, maybe not. I’m not exactly talented in the kitchen.
Have YOU ever made strawberry freezer jam? What about any other kind of freezer jam? Do you - or have you - canned/jarred your own foods the traditional way? How did you get started, and why do you continue (or not continue)?
Tonight, I had a long conversation with a friend. She called to talk to me about how a mutual friend (who is about to make a mess out of his life if he isn’t careful) carelessly hurt her with something he said. Despite the “reason” for her call, I felt like there was more beneath the surface. She is this amazingly creative, eccentric person. Despite the hardships in her life, the things she is even now working through, the phrase Joie de vivre always reminds me of her. She has friends who “get” her, who can finish her sentences, banter with her using movie or song quotes, or have a completely off-the-wall conversation with her. When I witness these things, and as much as I love her and understand certain aspects of her, I often wonder what keeps us connected - however tenuously.
Then, we have a conversation like tonight’s. We touched on a couple of the things that were weighing on her mind, we laughed, we vented, we reminisced. We discussed ideas and issues within ourselves. We *connected.*
However tenuous our friendship may seem sometimes, we’re connected by our history. That history includes love, loss, anger, sadness, celebrations, failures, pain, blessings, wrongdoings, and everything else life encompasses. Our greatest gift to each other is our ability to love. Each other. I do not think either of us has done anything to one another to cause pain. Our friendship was more a victim of how we interacted with others, and the things we did in those other parts of our lives. (Then again, maybe I did do something, and do not remember it … if I did, she’ll have to tell me one day, so I can apologize properly. I remember a lot of my wrongdoings, but I’m sure I’ve blocked a few of them out … I am always surprised by things -good and bad- that other people remember about me.)
Something that (happily) surprises me whenever we *do* talk is that we fall into an easy flow of conversation that both could last forever and comes to a natural close. A lot of this has to do with her amazing ability to entertain. A good deal also has to do with us being comfortable talking about things, even when it would seem uncomfortable with another person.
I have also discovered something else about myself while becoming reacquainted with this friend: I chose well when I chose my core group of friends, even though I chose them in elementary, middle, and high school. The same friends I chose then are the friends I now look forward to interacting with the most. In realizing this, I am comfortable with decisions I make for myself, no matter how far they take me from the ideal my family would like for me to fulfill. I know myself better than they do, no matter how much they love me.
I may be destitute by some standards. The standards I measure my wealth by, however, have been shattered by my successes.
For my friend, a reminder of our conversation tonight:
~Friendships and relationships waver and strengthen. Hold on to the ones that matter, let the rest drift away.
~You cannot control the changes in life. You cannot control how people react to those changes.
~YOU are the most important factor in any equation with which YOU are involved. Accept your own decisions, choices, and actions. Do not accept blame for the parts anyone else played.
~The people closest to you accept you for who you are, love you for being that person, and allow you to blossom within yourself. Thank them by continuing to be the best you possible: ensure you have small doses of those things you need (fulfill that wanderlust!) so the need to go crazy doesn’t have a chance to develop.
And, most of all, thank you for reaching out to me tonight. I needed the conversation as much as you, even though I didn’t realize it.
Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver,
the other is gold.
Tonight is a perfect example of why I think my friendship with Christy is a true example of soul mates. Early Saturday morning, she woke up with an odd numbness to her face. She felt fine, otherwise, so she didn’t stress it. Later, I noticed that the whole lower half of her face had gone slack and was swollen. It freaked me out a little bit, but I checked her lymph nodes (normal), vision (normal - she met my eyes, didn’t sway, etc), speech (normal), and balance (normal - for her ;)). I suggested she take motrin/advil to help with the swelling, then talk to her husband later in the evening and ask him what could have caused the swelling and numbness.
Fast forward through a crazy day (delivering cookies, cleaning up after kids, Blue & Gold ceremony for Christian, etc) to when Billy meets us at the B/G ceremony. She pulls him aside and tells him what happened, and he gets upset at us because she didn’t go into the ER or mention the symptoms earlier. He’s a medic - works the ambulance and the life flight - so he’s always immediately on top of anything medical. We discuss it a little with him, explain why we didn’t see any reason to treat it as an emergency, and moved on.
A couple of hours later, after we had all gone home, Billy did some research, and Christy mentioned that her cheek/jaw area still felt odd, they called me and we all headed into the ER.
Billy had a rough couple of days (he was just coming off of a 36 hr shift), so he was tired, stressed, and really just wanted to be in bed, sleeping. He was grumpy, moody, and bitching about everything. Not in a mean way … just venting, blowing steam.
Christy and I, on the other hand, had our books out, reading. In between character conversations scene descriptions, we were cracking jokes and antagonizing Billy. We’d set our books aside briefly to interact with him, but mostly we read and made wisecracks.
Despite the fact that we were ALL exhausted, despite the fact that Billy and I were very worried about Christy, and despite the fact that NONE of us wanted to end our day in the ER, it was a GREAT night. We laughed more in that three hours than we did all day long.
That’s right, folks. Christy and I can turn even a hospital trip into a party! THAT is a tride-and-true friendship. A match made in heaven. Soul mates.
I have the greatest best friend in the world.
Oh yeah - Christy is fine. She has a polyp or something in her maxillary something or other, and will need to follow up with an ENT to have it removed/tested. She was given meds tonight, and a prescription to fill tomorrow. Everything else looked good, except she was dehydrated. The surgery won’t be fun, but she’ll make it through. Keep her in your prayers, or send a few positive thoughts her way.
I love when someone shares a quote and it happens to fit my views exactly. My cousin Marianne posted this quote on FB yesterday.
“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh
I know many of us are facing turmoil in our lives right now. Our choices today affect our chances tomorrow. Choose happiness in your life, daily. Face each morning (or afternoon/evening … whenever YOU awake from slumber) with a smile, a mental hug, and the determination to make TODAY the best day it can be. If something happens to set you off track, do your best to begin again with a new smile, an extra hug, and refreshed determination.
So often in my life, I am surprised by the love and kindness displayed around me, towards me, and even by me. I grew up in a world where I was taught to believe everyone had a motive, and I should too. I dislike the negative things that make people human, but I choose to believe that there are more good than bad people in the world.
I have been touched by so many people in my life, it is overwhelming. Whether it be a kind word from a stranger in a post I make on a social network, or a bear hug by an old friend, or even a phone call or text message from someone who is thinking of me but with whom I have not spoken in a while, I have found the “good” in thousands of people in my life.
Today is a day that commercially is about who gets the most candy or biggest diamond. It is a day that most people view as being for lovers to profess their emotions.
I am choosing to make it a day to focus on telling people what they mean to me, or how happy they make me. This is not all-inclusive. I could not possibly include everyone who has filled my heart.
For my best friend: I am *not* an easy person to be around. Even when I am not upset, most people think I am snapping or barking orders. She knows me, and (usually) knows the difference between my being upset and my just being me. She’s also the one person who truly knows the lengths I will go for the people I love. She herself has gone beyond most people’s greatest length to support and love me. I think we make a great team, and I love her more than she’ll ever know.
Luckily, her husband is tolerant of our friendship. Over the years, he and I have also developed a friendship outside of “my wife’s best friend” or “my best friend’s husband.” He knows I’ll be there for him, too, and that I do not choose sides when they differ in opinion. He has come to me from time to time, knowing I’ll tell him what I think and not just what I think Christy wants him to hear. I’m glad we were able to come to this place, and I love him dearly. Not only for what he is to my best friend, their children, and my daughter. But also for the person he is, and the friendship we have.
My sister is an incredible woman. I remember when she was young, how ornery and demanding she was. I remember people asking me if I was jealous of her because not only was she beautiful, but she had a great relationship with our parents (unlike me). I also remember that while jealous might have flared up from time to time, it never lasted more than a minute. I loved her too much to be spiteful over anything she had or achieved - I always knew she deserved every bit of it. I was in my 20’s before I realized how much she looked up to me. We were separated a few years by family strife, and when I was welcomed back into my parents’ home, we began to talk again. She would ask my advice and talk to me about what she was thinking, feeling, and doing. I loved those late nights, snuggled up in her big bed, laying awake way past when our parents would approve, whispering so as not to get caught. I was already a mother, and we had lost our brother. We are so completely different, and yet fundamentally the same. I love when I find a similarity, because it renews my knowledge that we are sisters, despite my feeling so removed from her. I may be *much* older than her, but I will forever look up to her. She is the woman I know our parents intended both of us to be, but she accepts me for who I am even though she may not approve of the choices I make.
Friends who stick around. I made a friend when I was stationed in Jacksonville who has taught me a lot about myself, about life, and about how much I truly enjoy life. He and his family brought things out in me that I didn’t know existed. I love that even when I can only show up at midnight and stay until morning, they welcome me home. We stay up and talk, and then I wake in the morning to continue on my way and stop in the next time I’m in town. If I had traveling money, they’d be first on my list for a weekend trip with Lil Lady. We love visiting with them, and we love that they are just as much family as my BFF & her family.
My daughter, who I love with every fiber of my being, brings out the best and worst in me. She challenges me and forces me to rise to the occasion, all without realizing she’s even doing so. She brings sunshine into my life and reminds me why I choose a life of struggle over one of financial ease. I was always told, “One day you’ll have a child and you’ll understand.” I *do* have a child, but I *do not* understand. I am thrilled to know that I had the where-with-all to “break the cycle” and do things differently. Mostly, I am grateful to be her mother.
My “social network” friends, who are as friends as friends can be. They may not be physically close, but they are just as much a part of my life and my heart as they would be if they lived next door. They challenge me, inspire me, support me, and love me. They are kind, loving, generous, opinionated, funny, sarcastic, open-minded, accepting, and beautiful. I have had the great pleasure of meeting a few of them in person, and have not once been disappointed in what I find once we’re face-to-face. I can be myself with them, and not worry about being judged. I know that if they did not *want* to be on the other side of that window/page/timeline, all they have to do is click “remove” or “delete.” I know we are connected not by accident, but by choice. I love them for the quality they bring to my life, quirks and quills alike.
I was blessed with more than two parents. I have not always viewed it as a blessing, but even as a child, I usually knew I was lucky. I love each of my parents for who they are and what they bring to my life. They are all unique, and have different methods of communication and parenting. Each of them formed me into the person I am today, and I am grateful for their love and guidance. They are all beautiful people - complete with faults. What I consider my greatest gift is being able to see the intent behind their actions and love them even more.
I have been reconnecting with a few friends from my past lately. I’m really enjoying this, especially the few fun night’s I’ve had with one in particular. One of those nights, we went through old photos from high school and relived those memories. The laughter was beautiful, and the stories we each remembered were touching. I love that someone I chose to love way back when is someone I can still love today. Time holds no barriers: this is the test of true friendship, IMO.
The last person I will specify doesn’t read this blog. He barely knows I exist anymore. However, I love him with my whole heart and I wish things could have been different. I needed something from him … and he needed something from me … and both of us needed it before we could make the move we wanted to make. It is much more complex than that, but the fact is: I love him, and would have given the world for him, if he could have only told me he loved me. We still talk now and then, via text. I love those short conversations. Maybe there will be another chance in the future. If not, anyone else in my life has a lot to measure up to …
Thank you all for helping to make my life one that I love!!
So, my BFF, the kids, and my friend Kristine got their wish: it snowed in NW FL. Unfortunately, Kristine was at work in a part of the area that did *not* get snow (sorry honey), but I took a few pictures of the moist white stuff that floated down from the sky.
No, it isn’t anything spectacular compared to an area that sees real snow. Keep in mind - it is only blog-worthy because it only happens a time or two each decade. The last time I remember seeing snow here was in 1990, but it was a very light dusting, didn’t even float all the way to the ground. However, in 1989, when I first moved back from England, we had a light snow very similar to today’s.
Click HERE to see what our excitement was all about.
(For the record, I was *not* excited … but it turned out to be a very light snow, and stuck around even less time than I feared, so I was quite comfortable.)
Mom would smack me if she knew I was outside in bare feet, a strappy tank top, and a skirt. LOL No, not even SNOW can make this FL gyrl put on more clothes!
This story is continued from yesterday’s post, Judgment Day. Thanks
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I stared at my (step)mother, unbelieving. This woman-the most open, accepting, generous woman I had ever known-was upset there might be a non-white child born into our family. I was devastated. Up to this point, I idolized my (step)mother.
I am happy to share she erased racism from her heart and mind soon after this incident. It took another year or so, but she learned the error of her ways. She even chose a predominantly black Church as her place of worship when she accepted Christ back into her life. In fact, when I went to Church with her and my brother … we were the *only* three white folk to be found.
After my (step)mother passed away, my Dad met another really nice lady. I love her, and she absolutely dotes on Dad. It makes me happy to know he has found another woman he clicks so well with, and who is absolutely devoted to him. We were at one of our family dinners (Lil Lady and I used to go over weekly, when we lived back home) one night, and Dad’s new lady was telling us a hilarious story.
Then, she made a comment about having to drive through a certain part of town. My fork stopped halfway to my mouth, I stared at her in shock, glanced over at my Dad, and back to her. She tried to quickly cover it up, and backtrack … but the moment had been ruined for me.
Another racist remark by someone I love and respect … will it never end?? The hardest part of the situation for me is although she’s a very accepting and non-judgmental person, she just did not understand the inappropriateness of referring to that part of town in the same way they did as kids, when segregation was still in effect.
I find that sad, and disheartening. I find it disappointing, and I am embarrassed to admit that there are so many narrow-minded people in the world. I wish more people would understand that just because you do not practice active racism (or reverse racism), it is NOT okay to make racist jokes or use derogatory terms, PERIOD.
I know I am raising my daughter with open-mindedness and love in her heart. She sees people, not colors or religions or some other boundary. She is excited to learn about new cultures, and she appreciates that there are different views in the world.
I am proud of her for keeping these views, despite being the victim of reverse racism in her old school and after-school program. She continued to reach out to the people who judged her, until she eventually developed a few friendships. It helped, of course, when they realized that we attended the same Church, and were accepted by their Preacher as family (as my brother was dating the Preacher’s daughter). *grins*
By the way, my friend Tonya in the last post? She and I are still in touch, too. We don’t talk often, but about 15 years after the last time we saw each other, she researched my name on the internet and found my phone number. She thought I lived on the East coast growing up, and looked for me in Jacksonville.
A twist in the story of her trying to find me: I had not ever lived in Jacksonville before - my family is from south, central Florida. My parents, siblings, and I lived in Tampa and Fort Walton Beach when I was in 3rd-5th grade, and again when I was in 8th grade, until a couple of years after I graduated high school. Ironically, I was stationed there at the time she chose to look me up.
Jacksonville is where she thought I had been living all along, but I had only moved there about a year before she contacted me. I was so excited to hear from her, and I cannot wait til one day I get to meet up with her again. For the last several years, she’s been working as a contractor in Iraq. One day, we’re going to get together and chat it up, just like old times.
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P.S. Don’t forget to stop by and donate a few buckaroos to help my friend Aidan and the rest of Team Taji in their efforts to collect enough school supplies for children to be able to attend the school they are helping to rebuild.
Ever since I was a little girl, I carved out my own little path, culled out my own little niche, and tried to do things my way. It was not an easy feat: my parental units were overbearingly decided on how things should be done, when they could take place, and where they would be set. Any sign of making our own decisions or showing initiative was immediately stamped down.
I have always had friends that did not meet my parents’ approval. At first, I did not understand that they were just biding their time, knowing we would be leaving soon anyway (military family, we moved every couple of years). Soon, though, my friends began pointing out to ME that my parents did not approve of our friendships. I always said they were crazy, my parents were GREAT and loved EVERYONE!
My big, pink, puffy heart was shattered when I started to realize I was wrong and my friends were not. The first time I realized I was wrong was with my friend Tonya. She was intelligent and beautiful and sweet and caring, and I was so lucky she introduced herself to me when I first arrived at the elementary school I attended on base in England. She took my hand, warned me away from the “mean kids” who were attempting to jostle my spirit, and introduced me to the sweet gyrls who would form my friendship circle. Tonya’s only downfall? She was black.
I am ashamed to admit that while I knew my parents did not like her, I did not believe they were racist until many, many years later–when I was 26. I did not believe my friend … and I let her down in my ignorance.
The second time I realized my parents did not like one of my friends was when I was in 8th grade, and my *old* best friend from this little military town (we’ll call it Fort Eg) introduced me to her then-best friend. See, my old best friend (let’s call her Georgia) and I met when I lived in Fort Eg BEFORE I moved to England. We came back to the same base, which was exciting for me - I had ready-made friends!
So anyway, Georgia introduced me to her BFF, Christy. Christy was peppy and bubbly and cute and funny and completely, totally, effervescent. I adored her immediately, and we bonded instantly. Christy and I couldn’t help but become BFFs, and we did not mean for anyone to feel left out or shunned … but Georgia pulled away from us anyway. She began doing things and hanging out with people she had previously found repulsive. In all honesty, while we missed Georgia … Christy and I didn’t miss out on anything. We had each other, and two other girlfriends. A perfect quartette.
Back to the story … I realized almost instantly that my parents did not approve of Christy. I didn’t understand the reasoning behind their dislike, either. But in their minds, her family’s poor income was enough for them to want me to set her aside. It is a good thing I believed in my heart more than I believed in their word: Christy and I are best friends to this day. She is the greatest gift of friendship I have ever received. We have definitely had our ups and downs, but our hearts know we’re soulmates in friendship.
A little later in life, I began to realize my parents disdain for other friends - both past and (at the time) present. It saddened me to realized my parents were not only judgmental, but also racist. I could not understand this concept: all four of my parents had grown up poor. My mother’s family lived in a chicken coop (seriously!) that was converted to a one-room shelter. My (step)father’s family wasn’t much more wealthy. My father’s family was not quite as poor, but with several children, sometimes things were spread thin. My (step)mother’s family were often hit with hard times, between illnesses and job losses … and with several children in the family (including one handicapped child), money was tight more often than not.
Not to mention: my mother is NOT white. She’s Mexican. Well, she’s American, of Mexican descent. She’s the first generation of Americans in our family. She was born here in the U.S. to immigrant (legal) parents.
Another saddening story: my (then-teenage) youngest (living) brother had a girlfriend who, shortly after they split up, found out she was pregnant. My (step)mother and I were discussing the possibility of him being the father. Now my (step)mother had no issue with my youngest (living) brother dating the young lady - who was half black, half Puerto Rican. In fact, both of my brothers had gone for the “exotic” rather than “white” girls in their dating choices. In fact, my other younger brother dated black girls almost exclusively (and still dates black women almost exclusively; I’m fairly certain I have only seen him with one non-black female).
However, when we were discussing my youngest (living) brother having possibly become a parent while still in his sophomore year of high-school, I was shocked to learn that *this* was not the point of contention in the situation. Instead, my (step)mother blurted out, “I sure hope the baby isn’t black!” I was so shocked I could not breathe. I couldn’t speak.
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My blog won’t post anymore of this story on this page … so I’ll continue tomorrow with the rest of my thoughts.
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xoxo
Don’t forget to stop by and donate a few buckaroos to help my friend Aidan and the rest of Team Taji in their efforts to collect enough school supplies for children to be able to attend the school they are helping to rebuild.
Tonight, my BFf hosted a birthday party for me. Her sister, June Cleaver, her brother (my boss/M), and their mother were all there (along with June Cleaver’s two boys & BFF’s four kids). We had a spaghetti dinner (nummies!), complete with garlic bread, salad, and sweet tea.
We opened presents (ok, I did) - June Cleaver & her two boys got me a necklace/earring set. C got me a necklace that says ‘angel” in English & Chinese (from China in Disneyworld). Mama got me the box set of the first four Janette Oke movies. Or, the movies made from her books. LiL K made me a birthday card … she drew a princess, a girl, and wrote my name (or, yanno, something that was meant to be my name ;)).
After presents, I was presented with my cake. BFF worked all afternoon on it - a chocolate cake with homemade chocolate icing. She had put flowers on the cake to decorate it, and she’d put a basket weave pattern all around the edges. Delicious, beautiful, perfect.
After cake, we played Trivia Pursuit. I think I answered two things. My team member, thankfully, is a genius with random knowledge, and we won. WOOT! (Go, M! You rock!)
The game finally ended about 10:30, and we were all exhausted … so then we came home. And, like a good lil Devyl Gyrl, I logged on immediately to tell you all about it.
So, after my dream the other night, I had snakes on the brain. Real snakes, people, this is no euphemism! LOL
I remember the first run-in with a snake I (indirectly) had. I was young-is, 8 maybe? I had seen snakes before, but they were all in the distance, or non-poisonous, or behind glass where I could admire them without danger.
This particular day, though, my grandmother’s dog, Prissy, would *not* let me go inside. I couldn’t figure out why she was being so obstinate about letting me through the carport to get to the door. I decided to walk around to the front door, but she wouldn’t let me near that one, either. Finally, I started banging on the side of the trailer-portion of the house, trying to get someone’s attention. When nobody answered, I walked around the back, to where my grandfather had built on a two-room addition. I banged on the window, and told my grandparents and parents that I couldn’t get inside. My (step) dad tried to come out the door, but Prissy threw herself against it, and started barking furiously. Suddenly, she swung around and faced inside the carport, barking and growling and lying low to the ground. I tried to walk up behind her, and she swung around to me, snapped, and then swung back around and lunged at something. I heard her yelp, and screamed for my (step)dad and grandfather to come out and help. They looked under the trailer portion of the house, both of them rearing back suddenly and swearing, rushing inside and grabbinbg guns. My grandfather was hollering for my grandmother to call Mr. Jimmy from next door and the neighbor from across the street, and for everyone to bring their guns.
My (step)dad hollered at me to go across the street immediately. This whole time, Prissy is barking furiously and lunging at something under the trailer. I get across the street, and Miss Angie drags me in the house and slams the door just as she shoves her husband’s gun into his hand and tells him to run. I hear three shots a few moments later, and the phone rings - it is my Mom, telling me I can come home.
I rush back, excited to see what was happening, and see Prissy lying in the driveway, my grandfather and grandmother crying over her, my mom hysterical on the phone with someone, and my (step)father trying to calm everyone down so he can look at her. I screamed at them, asking who shot her. They all stopped what they were doing (except my (step)father, who was working furiously over Prissy still) and then pointed to the carport. I looked, and in front of my grandfather’s car, I see a HUGE ASS FREAKIN SNAKE.
Turns out, a diamond-back rattler had slithered out of the woods and under the house. Prissy had been trying to keep me safe (and my family, too, when they walked out), and had decided to stand down the snake rather than let him at me. She was bit twice, in the ear.
Mom was apparently on the phone with the vet, who was out of town. He directed her to an emergency vet, and she hopped in the car with Prissy and my (step)father (who was still trying to keep her alive), and off they raced. She died, twice.
Luckily, she was revived both times. They had to medicate her, keep her overnight, and give her bulldog blood in and emergency transfusion because she had bled out so much. She, literally, fought to her death. If my (step)father hadn’t been breathing for her and doing chest compressions, she would not have made it - he kept shocking her heart and kept the oxygen in her system. She was technically dead before they even left to go to the vet.
While my parents took Prissy to the vet, my grandfather took me over to the snake. I was hysterical, because Prissy was dead (this is before we found out she would be okay), and he told me he loved her, but was happy she was there to protect me and take the bite, because he would have never forgiven himself if the snake had gotten to me.
I was heartbroken until my (step)father called to tell me the vet saved Prissy. She was deaf in her left ear, and went blind in her left eye a couple of years later, but lived for another few years (she was old when this happened - at least as old as me, but I think older).
That rattlesnake was more than 6 feet long. It was beautiful, but I could not see the beauty that day … it was not until later, after it was skinned (for a belt/purse/boots/whatever) and we’d eaten the meat and put the rattler out to dry (or, whatever you do to a rattlesnake’s rattle to save it for a souvenir) that I realized how beautiful a creature the snake had been.
It’s another recipe I found on 
