Shae's Window to the Soul

OF EEG'S AND EKG'S

2012-01-29T13:49:00.001-06:00

Suckuary has passed in a blur of more doctor's appointments and birthday celebrations. I'm grateful that Suckuary is almost over.

I had two doctor's appointments a couple of weeks ago. My regular OB/GYN checkup and a followup with my primary care physician. Because I've had cancer, I had the royal uber workup from both.

My OB/GYN is great. Everything in her office is new and cutting edge. She is a very nice woman who explains everything in detail, which is how I like my doctors. Her nurse/aid was very sweet and we both got a good laugh after she handed me a scrub shirt and a pair of scrub pants and saw the confusion on my face.

"Pants..."

She smiled. "You'll get the idea."

She left the room and I collapsed in a heap of laughter as I put on my first pair of CROTCHLESS PANTS. I have to admit that I felt more covered with those on than I ever did with a gown. The doctor said that when the rep who sold them the latest in OB/GYN patient wear showed them these pants they all laughed as hard as I did.

I had an ultrasound done, and the results from that were that everything looked good except there was a spot on my left ovary. I am going back in a couple of months to do that all over again to see if the spot has grown.

Since Tamoxifen can cause uterine cancer, I reiterated to my doctor that I wholeheartedly would agree to the removal of all these problem-generating organs but I can't find a doctor who will do it for me yet.

So I still have to hang on to my problem-generating organs.

I gave enough blood to test for everything they think I need tested for, which was significant. All of my bloodwork came back with good results, even the blood sugar and Vitamin D. My cholesterol was high, however.

I don't eat fried food often, but the hamburger and onion rings from Southwell's I had that weekend might have affected my results. Still, I need to pay attention to that, and adjust accordingly.

Then I had my first EKG. The results were poor (but not alarming), so I have to go to a cardiologist on Friday. What this means is I have another doctor to tell me I need to lose weight.

AND if that wasn't enough, my doctor wanted me to have a sleep test. She's trying to figure out why I'm not getting good rest. I told her I've had trouble sleeping all my life. It's difficult to fall asleep and stay asleep. I wasn't sure what this test would show, but I said I'd do it.

Friday night I went to the Sleep Clinic for my test. The technician hooked me up to dozens of electrodes, put tubes up my nose and an oxygen level monitor on my finger and told me I needed to try and go to sleep.

It was only 10:30 and I told her I wasn't sleepy. She blinked at me a couple of times. I asked if I could read a while and she said yes and went to hook up the other patient.

Every five minutes she came on the monitor and asked if I was ready to sleep yet. This was annoying, especially when I'd told her I wasn't tired yet and she wouldn't let me watch tv, put on music, or my white noise machine, anything I usually do to relax and let my mind unwind.

Finally, after the tone of her voice changed from camp counselor to dorm mother, I let her calibrate the machines and turn off the lights.

Because I am me and was annoyed, she would tell me to close my eyes and I would say they were closed but she could see me through the infrared camera and she would say, "I can see you they are not closed!"

"I can HEAR you and I'm not sleepy."

Finally, I gave up taunting her and closed my eyes and she said goodnight.

I slept maybe two hours and was awakened about 1:18 AM from the person I shared the bathroom with getting up, slamming his door closed and turning on all the lights (that shone in from under the door). He also locked me out of the bathroom...again.

I slept off and on from that point, but nothing deep. I tossed and turned as much as the wires would let me and explained in the morning that was a normal night's sleep for me.

She had the audacity to wake me up at 6:30 in the morning...SATURDAY morning.

She couldn't tell me anything about my test, but from the questions she avoided if I do have sleep apnea it's so slight they likely wouldn't try to treat it.

We'll see what the results say in a few days.

That's the update. I hope the cardiologist is the last new doctor I have but I have this feeling that if the sleep test doesn't give my doctor the answers she wants, an allergist is probably next.

In a way, I'm thankful everyone is being so careful, gathering information that can help me and improve my health. I just hope I can spend less time with the doctors as time goes on!

A NEW YEAR POST CANCER: THE ART OF SPOON MANAGEMENT

2011-12-31T18:15:00.001-06:00

I went to see my beautician last week, the wonderful Nora who has cut and colored my hair for almost 10 years. I asked her to do something that absolutely irritated her. I asked her to cut my hair very, very short.

At first, she didn't understand why a "bob" cut wasn't going to be enough. Finally I defaulted to an analogy that a friend of a friend had used before to illustrate how she has to handle her energy management.

"Let's say I have ten spoons of energy a day," I told her as she tried to reason with me that short hair was not going to...cut it...so to speak. "My meds take 3-4 spoons of energy away a day. That leaves me 6-7 spoons of energy to get dressed, work, cook, clean, run errands, and try to get out and do something once in a while."

I could see she had begun to understand when I said, "I need one of the spoons back from my hair. Don't make me cut this myself."

I'd finally convinced her I needed my hair to be wash & go and that short was truly the only way to accomplish this task. Honestly, I think Nora thought I would be unhappy when she finished and that's the reason she didn't want to cut my hair. I felt desperate for this haircut and was thrilled for the results. My hair is short, wash and go, and it looks great. I knew Nora would come through. She's too talented to give me a haircut, no matter what length, and have me walk out unhappy. Has never happened.

I had an overwhelmingly positive response to my hair, which reinforced my drive to get my energy management under control. I know many people worse off than I am in this department, who charge through what they have to and fall exhausted into bed every night. Anything frivolous and extra just doesn't happen often, or at all.

I've spent the week thinking about my spoon (energy) management. I know I can do this. Prioritizing is essential if I hope to pursue more photography and other creative pursuits. I want to challenge myself to a photo a week in 2012 to build my portfolio and my skills. To do this, I have to save some of my spoons and choose not to do other things. It's difficult, at times, to make those choices, but choose I must.

Everything boils down to this: I have to accept what is, and make the most of what is. If anything 2011 taught me that if God chooses, he can take me in an instant, and I wouldn't have to worry about any of this anyway. God also taught me in 2011 that, though cancer is a complete game changer, it does not mean that the game is over, or that I still can't accomplish what I dream to accomplish.

All that's changed is that I have to manage my spoons better to get the results I want.

I don't make New Year's resolutions often, simply because I choose goals that are based on feelings or superficial notions. I have decided to choose to pursue actual obtainable goals in 2012. I need to be able to check things off the list and make everything I've been through this year seem a distant memory.

In 2012 I will:

* keep myself open to new adventures and manage my spoons to maximize the adventure

* learn as much as possible about photography and editing and not buy any new equipment (deals are off if I get to B&H this year)

* read more, for pleasure and business

* do what I need to do so that breast cancer does not return so I don't have to go through this again (and this includes many things, like make friends with Tamoxifen, which has had another side effect manifest itself this week!)

I think four goals is enough right now (making friends with Tamoxifen may have to be a goal in itself). I think that may use all the spoons I can find. What ultimately needs to happen is that just having four goals and utilizing spoon management and accepting my new reality has to be okay. I think that may be my biggest adversary - my mind.

My mind is still here, still relatively sharp, still active. It's the body that can't keep up right now. In order to move forward I have to work harder to do it, plan better, manage my spoons better. I will accomplish quite a bit if I can do these things.

Welcome, 2012. I am going to learn to manage my spoons and maybe even learn to play them to make beautiful music while I'm at it.

O COME, O COME EMMANUEL

2011-12-18T22:03:00.001-06:00

As I lit the Advent candles today I was listening to Robbie Seay's "Mary's Song." I had to snap this photo as a reminder that though God is with us, remembering/learning how to anticipate Him is a valuable and enriching experience.

My soul magnifies the Lord,

My soul magnifies the Lord,

Holy is His name! Holy is His name! Holy is His name!

I know that as this week unfolds some might get caught up in the craziness that can distract from the true meaning of Christmas. May you find peace in the midst of all activities and experience the joy Christmas was intended to bring.

IS THAT STEAM FROM A BIG TRAIN OR JUST BRAIN FOG?

2011-12-17T18:41:00.000-06:00

Yesterday one of my friends compared Tamoxifen to Liquid Drano running through the body. That's a great way to put it.

This week was overwhelming in terms of emotional and physical stress. I won't go into all the details, but there have been people lost to people I care about, year-end work stress, personal stress, and physical stress. I was so tired Thursday that I fell up the stairs when I got home. I was so tired I could hardly lift my feet. I haven't been that tired in a long time. My friend Jene' calls it TBT - Tired Beyond Tired.

I'd like to blame Tamoxifen for being so tired, but I can't entirely. The stress isn't helping. I sometimes feel like I'm walking on a train track and at some point there's going to be a big train steaming toward me and I won't be able to get out of the way. What frightens me is that I feel a bit ambivalent about it.

I have better days since I've been on the Equalizer. Trouble is, my body is still adjusting to the pharmaceutical cocktail that keeps me going. My brain still isn't back on track. There are days I feel like my brain is in a thick fog. Other days I am so tired I can't think. I want to be able to attend everything to which I'm invited, but most of the time I end up at home exhausted.

Exhausted and FRUSTRATED.

I was encouraged by many people yesterday and today, in person and online. Words are such a powerful medium in my life that to receive them in such a way from people I love gave me some much needed energy. I need to keep moving forward, even if I feel like I'm crawling.

I have three short work weeks in a row, and that will help. I have some goal reassessment to do and a plan to execute. I want my photography and writing to improve and grow and even if my body can't keep up, I will make sure my mind will.

Right now, I have to give my permission to be Sassy, who is on Tamoxifen, and be whomever that happens to be. I need to embrace what is...and take back control of what will be, meds or not.
Thanks again for of the encouragement!

THINGS I LEARNED TODAY (OR MAYBE JUST REMEMBERED)

2011-12-06T19:57:00.001-06:00

1. I am an AMAZING multi-tasker. Seriously. I impressed my own socks off today (but I put them right back on because it's COLD).

2. I still have issues handling stupid even with happy pills, but lives have been saved because of them.

3. I still hate Xfinity, but it's my only option right now. If my cable box gives me the "not authorized" message for a channel I pay for again though I may have to teach the box a lesson.

4. Running the space heater in the bathroom to warm it up is ok. When the space heater flips on while the hair dryer is on it is not ok.

5. I now know where my breaker box is.

6. "Feliz Navidad" is the only Spanish song gringos know how to sing for Christmas. (Michael Buble Special) He gets one of the best-selling Spanish singers in the world up on stage and they sing... "Feliz Navidad."

7. I have a black belt in Sassy Kwon Do.

8. I am behind on Advent candle burning.

9. I miss music. I need to sing more.

10. I can produce glowing embers on my stove. Darn that potato, the skillet escapee!

SASSY AND THE BIG PINK CHRISTMAS ORNAMENT

2011-12-03T13:45:00.001-06:00

I am a breast cancer survivor. Still, after all these months that feels so weird to say/type. I am reminded every day, however, that conquering breast cancer is the first step and that there are still many steps on the road to survival.

I have been collecting breast cancer conquering "trophies," if you will. I have my Survivor t-shirt from the Komen Walk in October and several bracelets. In early November, I walked into Kirkland's and found the pictured ornament and knew it should find a place of honor on my Christmas tree.

I'm still not a big fan of pink, but this ornament really jumped out of all the others and I knew I had to have it. I am a survivor and I'm grateful and I'm happy to be able to hang a trophy of honor on my Christmas tree.

CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

2011-12-02T22:40:00.001-06:00

My yearly post of Christmas decor. I'm pleased to see my photos have improved over the years.

See the full gallery on Posterous

WHEN SUPERWOMAN LOSES HER CAPE

2011-11-11T19:50:00.001-06:00

It's been a little over three months since my treatments ended, and almost three months since I've been on Tamoxifen. It's been a roller coaster ride for sure.

I have a love/hate relationship with Tamoxifen. I love that it has the potential to keep breast cancer from ever coming back, but I hate how I feel about 10 days a month. Of course, it's hormone related and it's brutal. For most of the month I have good days. My energy is increasing and I feel better in general. Then, HELL WEEK starts.

PMS has gone from a two day annoyance to an all out war with my hormones. During HELL WEEK I alternately want to tear phone books in half and smite people (my tolerance for stupid and the judgmental is non-existent) or I want to crawl into bed with a box of tissues and cry myself to sleep, or cry reading the news, or while watching football, or sob during Happy Feet commercials.

Tamoxifen intensifies anything I ever experienced related to my cycle, but it's only been a few years that I've had anything remotely intense. When I was in college, I never got PMS of any kind while my friends had cramps and crying and mild/or violent mood swings. I was so oblivious to what other women endured that M (who shall remain nameless because she might not remember she did this) put a curse on my children that they be born breech so I'd at least be able to commiserate with some pain related to my female reproductive parts.

HELL WEEK got so bad last month I almost stopped functioning completely. I was nearly hysterical one night because I couldn't stop crying (for no reason). I wrote an email to one of my closest friends stating: Is it bad that I hate the way Tamoxifen makes me feel so much that I don’t want to take it anymore and I’d rather take my chances with cancer?

I was serious.

My oncologist, upon hearing this news, was not amused, especially when I added that if we couldn't at least get HELL WEEK reduced to annoying but manageable days, then she would have to force feed me Tamoxifen once a day and write me a note to work at home those days and pay someone to sit with me to make sure I didn't cry all day and bankrupt myself on QVC or the internet buying things that made me smile through my tears.

I guess I made my point, because I have another prescription for some medical equalizers that should help HELL WEEK go away. I will have to wait a week or so to feel any different, the doctor said, but HELL WEEK should lessen and if the prescribed medical equalizer didn't work, we'd keep trying until we found something that would work.

It's been really wonderful to have a team of doctors (there are five of them now) who are working so hard so that I will not only survive, but thrive.

The biggest issue I'm having is how limited I now feel. All of the doctors have told me that I can no longer burn the candle at both ends as I'm accustomed. If I get overwhelmed and stressed, I can't push through, I have to STOP and relax. I can no longer dig deep and pull all nighters like I used to, nor can I keep up the wicked pace I sometimes force upon myself so that I don't miss a moment of any event, day or breath. If I didn't have to sleep, I wouldn't. There's so much to see and do in life.

I told my team of doctors (I've had 5 doc appts this week) that I am not handling losing my Superwoman cape very well. I am no longer "invincible." I am no longer the queen of multi-tasking, and sometimes I say some words and mean others. I tire easily. My joints and muscles hurt (thanks Tamoxifen) and my clumsy moments are multiplying. My eyes are not as reliable as they used to be, and working around that limitation as a photographer is frustrating and frightening.

I have done some rather stupid things that if I was clear-minded I would never do. I get confused. I feel like I'm walking through life in slow motion or in a thick fog. I don't feel like I'm the best version of myself right now, and I have fought long and hard to break out of my prison of mediocrity.

People forget that the fight against cancer doesn't end for a patient when they stop chemo or radiation. Years lie ahead, years filled with other medications and an endless stream of doctor's appointments. Life is forever altered. The old life can never be regained completely.

Women have to learn to continue to be Superwomen without their capes.

I'm sure it can be done. I see examples of it every day. I think the ones that make the transition learn to let go of their old lives and fully embrace the new, even with all of its meds, new diet and challenges.

Yes, I've lost my cape. I think it's at the bottom of a Tamoxifen bottle. Regardless of where it is, the cape is out of my reach. Instead of chasing what was, I will live with what is, and invest in the what can yet be. My life was more than the cape anyway.

SERENITY & FAHRVERGNUGEN #VWBeetle

2011-10-13T22:34:00.001-05:00

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After a crazy and amazing weekend with my favorite Walkers in San Antonio feeding giraffes at Hank & Kelsey's wedding at the Serengeti Resort, and eating on the River Walk at the Naked Iguna and other fun things in between, I was happy to have Monday off (Columbus Day).

I've needed a more reliable vehicle for some time, and have been seriously shopping for a year. After this summer's battle with breast cancer ate my down payment for a car, I put off shopping until next year.

I typically set my standards high, but seem to shoot low, or settle. It's a struggle for me to treat myself to something I want rather than the bare minimum or what I need. I either don't feel worthy to treat myself or I fear my penniless retirement.

For the past three years, I've tried to combat this settle/shoot low trend in my life. I live in the apartment I wanted, in the area I wanted, with the features I wanted (my allergies love these laminate floors). I have real furniture now. I treat myself to a pedicure now and then.

My brother, Scott, who had accumulated just about everything he wanted by age 35, died at age 35. Before he died, we talked about the mystical Land of Retirement - the time period that most Americans dream of - being able to leave the work world behind and play golf every day they aren't on a plane to their vineyard cottage in France or at the very least, Florida.

Scott told me that I needed to find the balance between saving everything for a day I might not live to see, and not arriving at the Land of Retirment unable to care for myself. He called it the "Retire as You Go," plan. I assured him that I understood, but I really didn't.

I continued living on a shoestring budget (but I was highly underemployed) with a really messed up view of money. I'm still paying for my formerly messed up view of money, but I'm almost finished with that pennance. I'm not rich, but my needs are met.

I was thinking about my brother the other day and his, "Retire as You Go," plan. After my own battle with cancer this summer, and my mediocre earning potential, I realized that I may not be one of the lucky few who truly gets to retire in the style to which they would like to become accustomed.
I also realized that I will probably work until the day I die, so the "Retire as You Go," plan now seemed reasonable. Retire as You Go = enjoy the journey to the grave.

Before anyone throws their 401K rhetoric at me, I'm not saying not to save for retirement. I'm just saying that living for this mystical day in the far off future and not living life to the fullest now is not the way I want to live my life.

Not anymore. I've learned the hard way that life can end in a flash, or even a slowly fading ember, even for people who are young and full of life, even for people who plan to retire...someday.

Now back to car shopping. I've only had four cars in 26 years. All used. All old and full of suprises like the water pump pulley shearing off in the middle of rush hour. All of the cars were phone calls to Lynn at the Car Clinic Hotline waiting to happen.

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for all these cars. I just knew I didn't want another used car, someone else's mess of surprises.

I scoured car websites and priced their cheapest cars and still couldn't find anything I thought I could or should afford. Still, I felt it was time to start test-driving some cars so I could decide which one I'd buy. Nevermind that I didn't really want any of these cars. They were just cars I might be able to afford.

I have always liked the Volkswagen Beetle. I've often thought about getting one, but never had the funds or the guts to drive it (very girly car!). When I saw the photos of the new model this summer, I really liked it. It was less girly, more sporty. It fit my personality. I did my research and I decided, if I could, that's really the car I wanted.

I woke up Monday with my brother's words ringing in my ears. "Do what you want for a change." I decided then, to go test drive the brand new Volkswagen Beetle. Just test drive.

I had no intentions of buying a car, especially after the dealer slid an impossible number across the table on a sheet of paper. I had no money down, nothing of value to trade in, and I had priced the car online, so this number was not a surprise. I simply wanted to see what the impossible number was, then go to another dealership to test drive a suitcase on four wheels. I just wanted the experience of driving the car I wanted before I had to settle for what reality would allow.

I looked at the impossible number, then back at the dealer. "I cannot do it, unless it's below this number," and I told him what payment I could make. He stared at me a moment and I smiled confidently. I was totally prepared to walk away without the Beetle and he knew it. He came back with a couple more numbers, less laughable than the impossible number, but still not below my max number.

After an hour's worth of wrangling, this man found me a way to drive a new 2012 Beetle on terms I could live with and still eat and have gas to drive it. In fact, it was a team effort. I spoke with several of the people there, picking apart the warranty and features. After we were finished I felt like I'd just arm wrestled my little brother over a pile of Oreos, and if you know my little brother, your arm already feels tired on my behalf.

I sat there a little numb yet about to explode from excitement. I, Sassy, had just purchased my first car, and it was BRAND NEW! When I activated my insurance (which went up very little) the very nice lady on the other end of the line said that the car was so new the VIN numbers hadn't even hit the database.

The 2012 Beetle is 20 years newer than my last vehicle. Needless to say the gizmos on the dash have advanced quite a bit since the early nineties. I have had to read the manual just to be able to figure out everything this car can do and what all the knobs are for. I can make phone calls through my radio. It does not have GPS or Sirius Satellite or OnStar or any of those bells and whistles, but it does have heated seats (last car had no heat) and a stereo I just finished learning how to use this afternoon. It also has an alarm and one of those keyless entry fobs that beeps when the car is locked.

I went over to Mrs. Walker's house and took her for a spin around the block and she rejoiced with me. Not only do I have reliable transportation, I am driving a vehicle I actually wanted. And, Mrs. Walker is pretty sure Mr. Walker will fit in the back seat when we go places.

What's been really fun is watching so many people at work look at the car and tell me they like it, and even more so that "nobody deserves a new ride like you do," because they've seen my two-hubcap deathtrap every morning for the last four years, and seen me roll down my window to let myself out of it.

The best compliment so far was when one of my Danish co-workers said, "A man could drive this Beetle."

Strangers ask me about the car when I get out of it. People have pulled up beside me in traffic and gawked at my car. I drive through a parking lot and men turn and stare at the car. I'm not a guy who went out and bought a corvette or camaro so other guys would think he was cool for having a cool but impractical car. I do get that appeal now, though, but I just got the car I wanted.

And that was ok.

I decided to name the car, Serenity. Not only was it a ship on a really cool Sci-Fi show that had all sorts of personality and character, it's a name that describes how I feel when I'm driving the car. I feel Serenity with my choice and my new direction. I also have experienced "fahrvergnugen" first hand (driving pleasure) and know I made a good choice in the vehicle I hope to be driving for the next few years.

My old car, Wynne Dory, is being given to someone who desperately needs a vehicle. I'm thrilled to be able to pay her forward while she still has some miles left in her. I've been trying to write down her "quirks" (like having to roll down the window to use the door latch to get out) on a 3x5 card but I'm sure she will figure out most of WD's idiosyncrasies on her own.

KOMEN FOR THE CURE, HOUSTON 2011

2011-10-01T21:42:00.001-05:00

Today I walked the Komen 5K in downtown Houston. My friend Jene' has done this walk many times and asked me if I wanted to walk it with her this year. I decided, after my current struggles with Tamoxifen, that it might be a good idea to reinforce my resolve with this walk. I had to prove to myself I could do this short walk and hope to use it as a springboard into walking for more weight loss.

Jene' very graciously picked me up this morning at 6:45. Anyone who knows me is aware that mornings are a struggle and my uncoordination is amplified by trying to do anything complicated before 9 AM. I have learned, however, I could get anywhere by 7 AM and function if I had a chauffeur.

Though I registered before the deadline, my registration packed did not arrive (and still hasn't) so Jene' let me out to go get my t-shirt and bib number (and hers) while she tried to park. After a half hour, we finally found each other again and started to walk toward the start line.

Jene' had hoped to meet up with her friend Stacy from The Container Store. We walked toward the start line and still hadn't found her. If you know Jene', you know that she can walk into an ice cream store in South Carolina, strike up a conversation with a person and in no time, find that they either know mutual people or know each other. We call it Six Degrees of Jene'.

Find it no surprise, then, in the midst of nearly 40,000 people, Jene' found Stacy.

The walk started late, and the sea of humanity moved slowly toward the start line. Because we were walking so slowly, I was able to get some shots of how people celebrated the race with costumes and t-shirts. Yes, the photographer carried her camera over three miles. I carry the camera every day and I hardly notice it. Besides, I wouldn't have gotten shots like these with my phone's camera.

This is the sea of humanity as we walked under the Montrose Bridge. It was an amazing sight to see all of these people walking for a cause, a mother, a sister, a grandmother, a friend.

This man held this sign up for nearly the duration of the race. I am going to assume it was his wife. I know many people walked for people they've lost and saw many "in memory" tags on people.

All along the route were organizations and volunteers cheering people as they walked. At one point there were several that were cheering directly to me, a survivor. I almost started crying but managed to not let my emotions get the best of me. I know I still haven't fully wrapped my brain around what happened to me this summer. I think I'm still numb and still trying to decipher what getting and surviving breast cancer means to me personally. I know what breast cancer has meant to me when it has involved people I love in my life, but I am still not sure what to think or feel about walking this road myself.

After crossing the finish line, I walked through an area specifically for survivors. They said your number of years as a survivor over loud speakers. Five, seven, twenty years... and I said four months (because I am using my surgery date as the day the cancer left me). As I walked along the line of people cheering at me and giving me high-fives, I almost choked up again.

I was given a carnation and then, after emerging from that line of people, I picked up a couple of things from Ford (I love their Warriors in Pink collection).

The newspaper said there were 2000 registered survivors of the 38,000 + registrants (I expect that number to climb because so many people signed up at the last minute and there were people walking without bib numbers). Again, seeing so many people walk in memory of someone and realizing how few survivors were walking in relation to how many people were registered hit me harder than I thought it would. Like I said, it's still something I have to wrap my brain around.

Jene' and I went to the car at 11:20. The 5K took over an hour because it was difficult to get to Jene' speed (petite woman with a cane will walk your legs off!) because of how many people were trying to walk in the same space with children, strollers, wagons and people stopping in the middle of the street to take photos.

Jene' had to go to work all day at The Container Store after she dropped me off. Jene' walks more than a 5K when she works. I imagine her legs are a lot more tired than mine! I am grateful for her persistence in getting me to do the Komen walk this year!

NORMAL IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

2011-08-28T13:13:00.001-05:00

I took a giant leap forward in my journey to return to "normal" this week: I put on a bra. Yes, for the first time in 2 1/2 months, I was able to expand my wardrobe past the five large, baggy shirts I've been confined to wear to conceal my braless status. If you're a man, you have no idea what this means to a woman. After all, we wear this confining contraption for men and fashion and a host of other reasons.

I have always had a love/hate relationship with the bra. I love the lift a bra gives but I hate underwires. I love the clothes that a bra allows me to wear, but I love the freedom leaving the bra behind gives me. Wearing a bra on brand new skin when it's over 100 degrees out isn't necessarily the best plan, but I managed to get through it without needing any new skin. I did ache a little after work. It wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it was time to rejoin the world as a "properly" dressed woman.

I've started meeting with a nutritionist to deal with the weight issue. Surprisingly, I do not eat enough calories in the day, but even so, I find it nearly impossible to lose a significant amount of weight even when I make the effort. I have seen an endocrinologist and the medication I am on for my thyroid is keeping my levels fairly normal, so we are keeping on that track until I have a 3-month checkup in November.

My energy level increases every day and I feel better each day in general as well. I started taking Tamoxifen a week ago and it has delivered the four side effects I really could do without - road blocks to energy level (fatigue, but so far not as much as the radiation delivered), upset stomach/ZERO appetite, headaches and hot flashes. Hot flashes in 100+ degree weather is not fun. Having zero appetite when I'm supposed to be eating MORE makes it very difficult to make myself eat, though I'm trying to eat as the nutritionist instructs. Upset stomach and headaches do not help me get motivated to exercise, but I'm pushing as much as I can. I've been told these symptoms should dissipate over the coming weeks. I certainly hope so!

I also need to be patient with myself. I've been on a rush to get back to normal, but after four work nights in a row of not getting home until after 8 pm (and then trying to eat right) I was exhausted. The rest of my life will have to unfold a little more slowly if I want it to unfold for the long haul.

SASSY AND THE CHAMBER OF RADIATION

2011-07-30T14:38:00.001-05:00

Thursday I had my final radiation treatment. 33 treatments in total. Just this short time later, the nerves are finally calming, the pain is lessening, and the burns are healing. I am on my way to having my body, brain, and life back.

The last day of treatment for a cancer patient is both exciting and sad. I was so happy my treatments were over, that now I get to have my afternoons and evenings back for other things other than treatments, work or resting. I will actually be able to get back to all the writing, photography and other plans that were derailed in April. It hardly seems possible that almost four months has flown by since the initial mammogram that set all this in motion, but I will gladly take what these last four months have given me - perspective and insight on my life that has been saved from cancer.

Given all that I was excited about Thursday, I was also sad that my days would no longer include trips to visit those work at the chamber of radiation. Each person I encountered always smiled, had positive things to say, and were huge sources of encouragement. I hugged and chatted with everyone as I left, but as I was leaving, I was especially sad to leave AJ, the receptionist. I have never met a receptionist who actually viewed their duty as a calling rather than a job. AJ always greets with a smile and can lift spirits of those who are facing the dark realities of their condition. One day when he was not at the office, I walked in just as the lady who delivers the mail said, "He's not here?" and I saw her shoulders droop. "He can always turn my day around." These are the people I am leaving behind to return to my life.

I'm certain I will be more prolific at what I've learned the past four months in the coming days. I'm still wrapping my brain around the fact that I am no longer a visitor to the chamber of radiation and I sincerely hope this is my final tour through the ordeal of cancer. I know many people right now who are facing a breast cancer far more fierce, who are losing but still fighting. Each person who navigates this road will have a completely different experience and set of circumstances, and if I ask of you only one thing is not to compare one person's experience with cancer with another as I have tried to do the same.

This journey, as I have been reminded, is far from over. There are follow-up appointments and regular visits to the oncologist in the coming years that will ensure I do not forget my life is no longer the same. I will, however, continue to do what I need to do so the cancer does not return.

I do not wish to return to the chamber of radiation - ever.

Now, I am going to try and figure out what to do next!

SAYING GOODBYE TO THE BOY WHO LIVED (SPOILERS)

2011-07-16T20:41:00.001-05:00

I started my journey with Harry Potter four years after the rest of the world. Ten and a half years ago, I was sitting in a waiting room at the Indiana University Medical Center with one of my brother's nephews. He was reading a book called, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and he was devouring it like it was his favorite ice cream. His mother asked me if I'd read the books, and I hadn't, but I'd heard a great deal about the book series - mostly negative. The enthusiasm of this little boy stirred my curiosity so much that when he'd finished the book and asked if I wanted to read it, I said yes, and my journey with Harry Potter began.

After reading the first book in the series (while my brother's nephew sat next to me and eagerly read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets) I was so enthusiastic about Harry's story that one of my friends ran out and bought all the books (Goblet of Fire had just been released) and stuffed them in my suitcase. The next three books, I went with my friend Jene' to midnight release parties at Borders and read them in the first 24 hours after I had them in my hands so I would not have to go live in a cave to avoid spoilers.

The creator of the Harry Potter series, JK Rowling, created a character so rich, so flawed, so complicated and so inspiring that the world has gladly spent the last 14 years journeying with Harry through 7 books (not including the side books like Tales of Beedle the Bard) and 8 movies. Each time I've left the theater I couldn't wait to see what lay ahead for Harry. Since 2007, I've known how the series would end, but today, I saw the final saga, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 2).

Reading a book and knowing how the story would end, there were no surprises for me, but seeing the story (and what an excellent job screenwriter Steve Kloves did with it) fleshed out so vividly made the wait for the movie worth it. My favorite movie in the entire series had been Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban until today. Today, something happened that hadn't happened that has not happened for me during a movie in years, and never during one of the Harry Potter movies, not even when Cedric Diggory died - I cried.

I cried a lot during this film, actually. The ladies next to me cried, one even wept openly during several scenes and asked me if I needed a tissue at one point. I was touched by several things in the movie, especially when Harry walked through the great hall during the battle of Hogwarts and saw all the people who had been sacrificed fighting for what they believed in. I started crying when I saw George weeping over Fred's lifeless body, but lost it completely when I saw Lupin and Tonks lying next to each other, knowing they had left behind an infant who would never know his parents, just like Harry.

The scenes explaining the loyalty, bravery, and exceptional love of Severus Snape were touching for nearly everyone in the theater. When Harry was collecting the memories from Snape and Snape reached up and touched Harry's face and said, "You have your mother's eyes," before Harry even went to the pensieve, Harry knew, deep down inside, that Snape was good. I could tell who hadn't read the books because there were gasps as Snape's story unfolded - of how much he loved Lily Potter and wept over her dead body as Harry cried in his crib, of how Dumbledore trusted Snape and asked him to kill him so that he could get even closer to Voldemort, and how, even as Dumbledore reveals that Harry must die, that Snape had grown fond of Harry, and found Dumbledore's preparing of Harry as a pig to slaughter disgusting. Dumbledore finally realized that Snape has loved Lily Potter all this time and will, "always."

One of the moments that got most cheers was when Molly Weasley duels Bellatrix Lestrange after Bellatrix tries to kill Ginny. It was worth waiting for. "Not my daughter, you, BITCH!" Molly, a softly padded wizarding family housewife and mother of seven, rises to the occasion and Bellatrix is outmatched and dies with the smirk wiped off her face and dissolved into the air.

When Harry walks toward the forbidden forest to confront Voldemort, he opens the snitch and says, "I am ready to die." How many 17 year-olds know what self-sacrifice or any kind of sacrifice truly is? Harry walks toward death willingly, believing he must do so so that Voldemort can finally be defeated and the world will be safe. When he opened the snitch, he called his parents, Sirius, and Lupin back from the dead. The calm and quiet that surrounded him was felt in the theater. People were on the edge of their seats. Waiting. Knowing what would happen next.

Voldemort kills Harry, at least the part of him that lived in Harry. Voldemort's victory is only truly cheered by the worst of the worst, Bellatrix Lestrange and a few others. Voldemort asks the students and the adults who had come to fight for Harry who will join him. Only Draco Malfoy crosses the line, but not after hesitating for what seemed like a long time. He had been torn, even since he was charged to kill Dumbledore in The Half Blood Prince, between doing what is expected (evil) versus what he believes to be right. Harry saved his life in the castle, and Draco knows where his loyalty should lie, but he finally walks toward his parents. Instead of waiting around with Voldemort to celebrate, the battered family walks away. They do not belong on either side any more. All they have left is each other. Through the three brilliant actors who played the Malfoys, you felt every struggle, torment, regret, and defeat.

One character everyone has waited to see have his big moment is Neville Longbottom. After Draco Malfoy walks away with his parents, he steps up and steels himself while Voldemort mocks him. Then, Neville, tired and injured, says that even though Harry's dead, the cause for freedom and doing what's right isn't. He was ready to lead the charge and eventually gets to kill the snake, Nagini, the last horcrux. When he does, Harry is able to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

The movie ends with the epilogue that was in the 7th book, "19 Years Later." Harry and Ginny are married and have three kids and Ron and Hermione have two kids. Three of the children, James and Albus Potter, and Rose Weasley, are going back to school at Hogwarts. It was a satisfying moment to see something so normal and touching happening for these families and it was happening because of Harry's sacrifice and willingness to confront evil, and the willingness of others to stand with him.

Very few movies end with applause, but the people in the theater clapped and then got up and left before the credits started to roll. I couldn't move. I sat and watched the credits (which reads like a who's who of British thespian royalty) and I was one of two people in the theater. I watched until the very last words faded off the screen. I stood on the stairs with another lady about my age and she said, "I can't believe it's over." I walked out into the lobby and thought I was walking through a funeral home. People of all ages who had just seen the movie were grieving, in a way. The character of Harry Potter will live on through books and movies and memory, but his character will no longer develop, at least not in print.

As someone who loves stories and rich, deep characters, Harry Potter has been a favorite of mine for the last ten years. JK Rowling has created a character and a world that has touched the imaginations of millions of people. She is definitely talented but I don't think lightning will strike twice with her, though I hope she writes more enjoyable stories. Many people will try to fill Harry's shoes with Harry-like characters, but there will never be another story quite like his.

It's time for a new story, a new character to love, but it will take a while. I will miss reading about the boy who lived and watching him fight for what is right - larger than life on the big screen. I will revisit his story from time to time and loathe Hollywood for rebooting the series in thirty years (gnargles will be behind it all).

Goodbye, Harry Potter, and all that you journeyed with. It's been a pleasure. Thank you, JK Rowling, for sharing Harry with us.

TALES FROM THE DRESSING ROOM

2011-07-12T20:40:00.002-05:00

I'm more than halfway through my treatments and let's just say my skin is in full revolt. Most nights, my skin is crawling and there isn't much I can do to soothe it. Radiation doesn't mix with most salves. I keep telling myself this is just a season, but it's been a long one. Three months in and I can't wait to wear a bra again, or to wear my girly clothes, or even to have time to go to the dentist. Even after my treatments are over, I will still have another waiting period of healing, much like you have to wait to eat your food for a few minutes after microwaving it because it's technically still heating, but at least I'll be almost finished cooking.

People rotate in and out of radiation treatment. I meet someone, I make a connection, and then Monday happens and they are no longer in treatment. I may never know what happens to them, I just have to trust that they return to their lives and live them to the full.

Take Hazel for example (not her real name). Hazel is a lady that I shared the waiting/dressing room with for about three weeks. She is older, somewhere in her 60's, and she has returned to work. She's been through chemo or hell, however you choose to package it. Hazel didn't talk much the first week and didn't smile much at all. Someone with that disposition might as well hang a sign around their neck that says, "I dare you." I love those kinds of dares.

One day the wait was a little long, so I took her dare and complimented the shiny hat that covered the bit of hair that had grown back from her stint with chemo. The tip of the iceberg crashed to the floor.

I'm amazed at how quickly after a diagnosis patients are whisked through chemo and radiation, and Hazel was no different. She told the doctor she had a family vacation she wanted to take before she started treatment and delayed chemo for two weeks. The vacation was with family overseas and she was determined to take it because it might be her last vacation for a while, or in her opinion, ever.

I told her that we should take all the opportunities we can to live life to the fullest because we are survivors. Her countenance clouded, then she said, "everyone keeps telling me I'm a survivor. I'm sitting in here waiting for radiation... and... I don't feel like a survivor."

My Sassy filter did not deploy, but since I've determined from watching all 7 Harry Potter movies Saturday and Sunday that my brain has wrackspurts (aka radiation brain), I was not surprised that I said, "Hazel, you're a survivor until they pull the sheet over your head."

Since we were not alone, I waited for a gasp, chastisement, or even disgust. Instead, the person just within earshot was amused and Hazel's eyes ere wide. Then, for the first time since I'd been trying to get to know anything about Hazel, she started to laugh, a deep, heartfelt laugh.

"I'm going to tell my kids that one."

She smiled Friday when I saw her, and I got her to laugh again by telling her, as she feverishly worked on a crossword puzzle, that I had been to crossword rehab (I'm not proud of it!) and only recently had been released to play Scrabble again. She kept giggling and it was music to my ears.

This week, her treatments were over, and I haven't seen her since. I hope she is on her way to good health, that she gets to fill towers of crossword puzzles, take more trips and laugh.

After all, we're all survivors until they pull the sheet over our heads, and even then, some of us know what's hidden behind the veil.

Until then, I need to get back to my Scrabble game.

POSTING ISSUES

2011-06-18T19:26:00.000-05:00

See my new blog: www.shaewindowsoul.posterous.com for more current posts. The auto update from Posterous to this blog is not working as it has in the past.

I've been keeping this blog because it has the full archive, because Posterous didn't pull the entire site in.

I appreciate all who read and comment, here, on Posterous, Twitter, and Facebook.

DON'T STARE INTO THE LASER

2011-06-17T21:11:00.027-05:00

My whirlwind tour through breast cancer treatment continued this week with the beginning of radiation therapy. Nothing ever really prepares a person for what lies ahead, no matter how much reading, studying, asking, praying or preparing is done. What can really be done to prepare for fatigue and nausea? Not much. What prepares you for the command to not wear a bra or deodorant and the self-consciousness and discomfort that goes with it? Not much, especially when the temperature gauge reads 100 degrees every day.

So I cope, as usual, with a camera or a pen in my hand.

Monday, June 6, I went in for my "fitting" for the form they make for the radiation table. They put me in this machine (which is a CAT/MRI type machine) and took some pictures.

The entire facility is practically brand new and the staff is very friendly. They welcome questions and give you answers in any detail you like. They rolled me back in to the machine and I saw this sign that told me not to stare into the laser beam. For anyone that knows me, my eyes see signs like this and my brain says, "you know you HAVE to look."

I refrained, however, because I know that lasers can hurt the eyes, and Lord knows I need them for many things, including taking photos.

The master of the MRI domain, G, lined me up on the table so he could get the readings to make the mold that would hold me in place. Then he marked on me with permanent marker, and then stabbed, rather, tattooed me in three strategic spots that they will be using the next six weeks to line me up with the laser. I have a tattoo, and that one didn't hurt at all. In G's defense I'm not sure this can be done any more gently to make the dot, and he even said it would sting like a mosquito. I'm not sure what mosquitoes he's come in contact with! He did the second one and it hurt so bad, had I not been holding a foam doughnut above my head, he said I looked as if I wanted to punch him. G is very observant.

This Monday, the 13th, I had a final fitting for the foam form and they wrote all over me with permanent marker for further guides to line me up on the radiation machine. It felt like they were playing tic-tac-toe on my stomach. I was giggling because the marker tickled and someone made a comment about me being ticklish and Sassy (they like the tattoo). They put stickers over the marker so it won't wash off, so I have many lines and X's in addition to the three tattoo marks. I mentioned that if they did that again, I wanted an X in the center square.

I asked V (radiation team) if I could take photos and explained I wanted to chronicle my journey in pictures. He agreed that as long as I didn't take photos of people I could shoot away. I was very grateful and the next day I took my camera around and took pictures while I waited. Taking photos is very therapeutic for me.

This is one of three dressing rooms in the waiting room. Once you get called back there, there usually isn't much waiting until they come and take you to the radiation chamber.

The radiation chamber is behind this door, which is at least two feet thick.

The radiation machine has lots of pretty lasers as well.

I have no idea what any of this means, but they do, which is the important thing.

I'm actually on the table less than ten minutes, but it's interesting how much happens to cells in that amount of time. In 5 treatments I can see my skin reddening, so who knows what is happening under the skin's surface. After the third treatment, I have experienced a period of nausea, and by the end of the day I'm wiped out.

One week down, five to go. I've read the side effects grow worse as time goes on, so that's on my mind as I try and rest this weekend. It's so difficult for me to allow others to do things for me, but I am grateful for the help I've received so far.

I was asked if I'd been directed to a counselor through this ordeal. I haven't, but I think that's because I explained to my oncologist that I am surrounded by a wonderful community and am blessed to have them around me - I have a lot of ears to listen and many shoulders to cry on. I've never been good at pampering myself but I'm trying to do that, and to allow others to pamper me as well.

I appreciate all the thoughts and prayers on my behalf. Please pray for the others I come in contact with daily. I am one of the few getting treatment who hasn't been through chemo already. Some have good attitudes, some are already defeated and going through the motions. I am also not the youngest one there. Some bring their kids now that summer break is here and they wait while their precious mommies or grandmothers get treatment. All of them have already learned the art of waiting for an indefinite amount of time, somewhat resigned to this routine.

Also pray for the staff. I have never been on a medical journey like this one, but I am amazed at the compassion and smiles I receive every day. The receptionist is so chipper and kind I want to hug him and tell him how much his smile and spirit mean to me. Maybe over the next few weeks I will.

ROLL THE DICE, MOVE THREE SPACES

2011-05-30T13:49:00.003-05:00

I have been at the doctor's office at least once a week for the last eight weeks. I met with the oncologist this week, a 3-hour appointment that left me exhausted, but hopeful. I answered questions, filled out forms, had a complete physical exam, and they drew blood. Marking where I am physically before I begin radiation treatment took longer than I thought, and I have a 2-hour appointment with the radiologist on Wednesday. I am grateful, though, to get closer to action, rather than information gathering and assessment.

A week ago Friday, I got the news that the tissue they removed during my lumpectomy included a 2mm tissue sample of Stage 1 aggressive cancer. I spent the weekend very troubled, because this news, in my mind, made me skip a few spaces toward chemotherapy. I believed that because I thought I would test positive for BRCA gene mutation, which would put me at high, high risk for recurrence and the doctors would want to do whatever was necessary to lower that risk.

Monday, however, the doctor called to give me the news that would move me back a few spaces away from chemo. I tested negative for the BRCA gene mutation. I was more in shock by that news than the news I was now advanced to Stage 1. That relief was much needed in the midst of the weight of uncertainty. I hadn't even given a negative result a second thought. I felt like I'd been given a free roll of the dice. Move ahead six spaces past chemo.

The oncologist and I talked about another issue that needed addressed: my weight. My cancer is estrogen positive which means my fat cells are the enemy. I also have to navigate a new diet tailored to reduce the risk of breast cancer recurrence. All I have to say is, "no bacon." I will be seeing a nutritionist in August after radiation so I can get started on that as soon as possible. In the meantime, I have been looking into vegetarian dishes on my own.

So that's where everything stands. I will most likely start radiation in a couple of weeks. I will take treatment every day, five days a week for six weeks. That will take me through to the end of July, and then I will see the oncologist again. To me, it all seems like a random roll of the dice, but I know God has it under control.

OFF THE HOOK

2011-05-15T13:29:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow I will know for certain, but my surgery was an apparent success. The pathology report from the tissue they took may not be back in time for the appointment, but I seem to be healing quite nicely, and the wound is now 8 colors or less. Go me.

I woke up Tuesday morning at 5:15 AM, unable to eat or drink anything, including coffee. Jene' retrieved me at 6:30 and she drove me down to the medical center. Without coffee, the trip seemed like a dream. The sun started to rise but I was barely lucid. For example, in the parking garage, there are only 11 floors, and I was told to report in to the 15th floor, so the elevator caused me great confusion. Thank goodness Jene' had been there before and handles mornings and numbers better than I do.

I reported in on the 15th floor around 7:15 and began a long day of waiting. They explained to me there were others ahead of me on the surgery schedule and I probably wouldn't have the wire insertion until after 9 or so and told us to go up to the 16th floor for that procedure, where we...waited.

I had previously stated that the stereotactic biopsy was the weirdest medical procedure I'd experienced, but that was because I had not yet experienced the wonderfully surreal wire insertion that preceded my surgery.

I don't remember the technical term, but a doctor inserts a wire anchor/hook (6+ inches long) into your breast at the exact spot the surgeon needs to remove tissue. I am sure medical people know why the wire is more important and exact than an "x" marks the spot, but apparently, this procedure is a must for accurate breast-tissue removal surgery.

I went in and sat in a chair and they pushed me forward and put my breast in the mammogram vice grip before the lidocaine (which I think the lidocaine should be inserted before compression of this magnitude) and positioned me for the procedure. I was instructed to hold still, not move, barely breathe, while they took pictures and aligned my cancer cells to a grid. Then the lidocaine was applied (thank God) and the wire hook inserted. I was praised for being a good (blood) clotter.

To try to assign pain levels to such a procedure is folly, even with the pain killer - they have the breast in a vice grip and they hook the area like you're catfish and then they leave it there. The wire stuck out at least 6 inches like a fishing line, and to make sure I was "hooked" securely the doctor tugged a few times. I felt like I'd been fishing with my brothers and there'd been an unfortunate accident (or one of my older brother's "let's see what this does!" experiments gone wrong).

I got a cheer for enduring the procedure as the doctor wrapped the wire in a spiral around the anchor/hook and taped it down so I could put on a gown and be taken back to the 15th floor. The gowns come in two sizes - for tiny, small people with no curves, and pup tent sizes. I was double gowned in the pup tent size, which I could have fit two or more people inside. It quite resembled a choir gown and I wanted to bust out a, "Hallelujah Chorus," except that I had a wire sticking out of my breast and I still hadn't had any caffeine.

They took me to the pre-op area where I waited a couple of hours for my surgery. Jene' waited with me and I was visited by a long line of nurses, residents, anesthesiologists, and the surgeon. My friend Michelle, who works at the Children's hospital, came to visit me, too. Finally, after what seemed like an endless morning laying there with the end of the hook poking me in the arm, the surgeon and the anesthesiologist returned and started the IV of sleepy-time tonic. Jene' said that I spoke after that, but I do not remember anything until I woke up in the recovery area. I was very thankful to be "off the hook."

There was a man there in scrubs checking my vitals and Jene' was sitting next to me. I felt like I'd taken a nap but didn't rest. I was finally able to drink some water and eat a couple of oatmeal bars and then the nice man in the scrubs shot me up with demerol. He told me I could leave when I could prove I could pee. I had motivation and a bottle of water.

I kept looking down at my arm (groggily) and being surprised it was blue (the anesthetic wash). I was surprised by this several times, for several hours as the demerol wore off. Finally, I was able to use the restroom, and then I got dressed and was whisked out to Jene's car in a wheelchair (demerol does a nice job of making your legs feel like wobbly gelatin).

We went straight to the pharmacy and we were there for over an hour because the resident who filled out the prescription for my vicodin (a narcotic) did not put the required DEA# on it, so we waited (and waited) while Jene' tried to get all that worked out. I am still going to address this with my doctor, as I had to wait an agonizingly long time for pain relief and they need a better way to get in touch with the doctors after 4 PM.

We finally got home, I took meds and eventually climbed into bed at 10:30, sleeping with a wall of pillows around me so I wouldn't roll over. I stayed home and medicated the next day, then worked the next two days (doctor said I could if I didn't overdo it) and have rested the rest of the weekend. There's a little discomfort left, but not much. Just in time for round 3.

WARRIORS IN PINK

2011-05-05T22:20:00.001-05:00

April 1st I got a mammogram. I've been getting them for seven years now. Every year I am grateful for good results, considering how breast cancer has ravaged my family.

This year, April melted into a slow parade of doctor's appointments, highlighted by a stereotactic biopsy, which goes down in my personal history as my weirdest medical procedure yet. The biopsy came back ER (estrogen receptor) and PR (progesterone receptor) positive, Stage 0 (Zero). In other terms, it's like getting assigned a 5K while most other people diagnosed with breast cancer have to run an entire marathon whether they are prepared for it or not.

Breast cancer is one family badge I didn't want, not that anyone ever wants it. I was tested last week for the BRCA gene, which will give a clearer picture about the road of treatment I need to travel. As all this unfolds, people will see that this is a complete, life-changing event, one I hope I can weather with grace and courage rather than fear and misery.

I feel like the trajectory of my life has been forever altered, either knocked sideways by a pair of pink boulders or a breeze from a pair of pink butterfly wings. Only time will tell which. God will have to show me the meaning in all this, because right now, I'm still on autopilot, numbed by the shock. I have breast cancer.

I've rather hated the color pink my entire life. Yes, my mother bought me pink clothes as much as possible, but I had a deep dislike for pink. Pink meant "all girl." I was almost sad when the color that represented the fight against breast cancer was pink (though I totally get why it is). Now, suddenly, find myself at the Susan G. Komen website looking at endless pages of items made in pink. Suddenly, I don't mind pink so much (though truthfully, I don't wear pink well, but maybe some pink accessories?).

Still, I know, I've witnessed the real warriors in pink: some who get a much, much, much worse diagnosis and live to tell the tale or fight like hell until they can't fight anymore. I arrive on the radar at Stage 0. I won't even have to walk through the hell that is chemotherapy. I get to go through the purgatory of radiation only instead. I get to keep my hair. I get to live on. I have breast cancer, but I'm not going to die - not now, and not for a long time if I have anything to say about it.

I have surgery Tuesday morning to remove tissue to make sure all of the cancer has been removed, then the carousel moves onward to radiation therapy and whatever else they throw at me to reduce the risk of this horrible disease ever coming back.

MIDLIFE CRISES AND EYELASH EXTENSIONS

2011-04-22T20:58:00.001-05:00

I had a biopsy Monday to determine whether something on my mammogram is something to worry about or not. I've actually quite forgotten the results, because, quite frankly, I've been dealing with the 1 cm hole left behind, some bleeding and some pain and... the hole. It's not been terribly painful, just annoying pain, but it's surprising how distracting the list of things one cannot do until this wound has healed can be. I'm grateful that today I can wield a hairdryer without pain, but I digress.

I went to get a manipedi today. I had the day off and we got paid, and after the week I've had, I felt like getting pampered, and my feet looked awful.

I sat across from a trio of ladies who obviously lived in the wealthy neighborhood nearby. Apparently all three ladies had weekly appointments at the spa. Two of them (Lady A & Lady B) seemed to attend together and the other just happened to be there at the same time.

I'd never seen so many designer brands on a single human being before. I don't run in those circles, and with my funds, I just want quality. I don't care who made it or what the tag says. All three of these ladies were blonde, one perhaps naturally, and all three had perfectly straight white teeth and smooth, tanned skin. I judged them to be close to my age. All three had school-age children and knew each other through their kids and activities. All three were of similar age, build, and intelligence (very smart). It was as if someone had stamped them out of the trophy wife mold. They were, in most ways, "perfect," as is relative to their world.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problems with trophy wives. It's a centuries-old tradition, and who doesn't want to look good for the man in their life? Besides, they all seemed happy and content with their lives. To each their own.

I couldn't help but notice, however, that the content of their conversation centered around how they looked and what they did to maintain their looks. At least it seemed that way with Lady A & Lady B. Lady C tried to steer the conversation toward the shining light of their lives - their children - but got sucked back into beautification as they started talking about 3 hour protein treatments for their hair, and not, in fact, hair extensions.

Lady A, in the first chair, was wearing a designer outfit that Lady C complimented and immediately Lady A threw out the designer name. During the course of their conversation about maintaining their level of beauty it was discovered Lady A and Lady B had eyelash extensions.

Eyelash extensions.

Lady A said that was the only procedure she'd have for vanity, but as she got her nails and toes done, they talked about her makeup and tan and said something about permanent makeup. Lady B laughed and said that Lady A could just roll out of bed ready to go and then confessed she'd also had eyelash extensions. Lady C blinked a few times, looked closely at Lady B's eyelashes and said, "but...they're all clumped together."

Lady A suggested it was time for an eyelash extension refill and Lady C asked about her real eyelashes and would there be damage.

This conversation happened so naturally, but I sat there wishing I had a Trophy Wife Translator. I also had to resist the urge to jump in the conversation and ask just why would one get eyelash extensions and just how much did all their beautification cost? Instead, I just sat there and let the conversation unfold.

Lady C said something about the eyelashes and Lady A mentioned them in reference to a midlife crisis and her 40th birthday coming up. She was trying to participate in a conversation that didn't make as much sense to her as she thought perhaps it should have. Either that, or she was happy with herself and wondered if someday, she too, would resort to something like eyelash extensions to extend her youth.

Lady B laughed at the mention of midlife crisis and said that they were already planning an all female getaway somewhere farway south, somewhere warm and beachy for their 40th birthday parties. As they hurried to leave (some child had to attend a birthday party) they said that they would get together soon to discuss their midlife crisis birthday getaways.

I think I missed something. I haven't yet had a midlife crisis and I'm at least two years older than these ladies. I also haven't felt the need to get eyelash extensions or permanent makeup. Maybe that means I'm going to live longer, since I have yet to reach the point in my life when I am in "crisis" because I might be in the middle of my life and think of the second half of my life as downhill. I guess it's because my life has been on an uphill swing the last 7 years or so that I want to embrace all that being older brings, because for me, despite more aches and pains and the occasional slowdown, life just keeps getting better.

I've seen many quarter-life crises when people reach 25 and wonder why their life isn't unfolding as they thought. The quarter-life crisis is more about anticipation and impatience. The midlife crisis is about "what if," and "why didn't I?" and holding onto the loss of youth.

I see men act out all the time with the cars and younger women and hair implants, but this is the first time I've seen it from the women's perspective this closely. It's never dawned on me to get eyelash extensions to look younger. I suppose in a few years when wrinkles catch up with me I might feel differently, but I'd like to think even then I'd rather my actions make me seem younger than my appearance. I'd rather be young at heart than young on the surface.

As I left the spa, I felt relaxed and renewed. Maybe manipedis have helped me avert my midlife crisis so far. Who knows? I'll let you know if I ever get to my crisis and you know you'll hear about it right here.

ASK NOT WHAT YOUR COUNTRY CAN DO FOR YOU...DON'T TREAD ON ME?

2011-04-09T18:41:00.002-05:00

I saw this Tweet this morning from @pourmecoffee. "New political reality: Ask not what country can do for you. Seriously, don't ask. It's not going to happen."

I've seen quite a few sarcastic and Tweets and posts full of outrage this week as the United States government came minutes from a budget fiasco shutdown. I've posted quite a few of them myself. As the skies grew dark and the thunder peeled in the sky as the clouds of doom gathered over DC, I realized it wasn't thunder. It was Ronald Reagan, FDR, JFK, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and all the signers of the Declaration of Independence turning over in their graves.

This is what the United States government has become - a bunch of bickering toddlers fighting over how to divide their graham crackers and milk. They are calling each other names and screaming, "Mine! Mine! Mine!" Forget that Johnny has more graham crackers than Teddy and will drop them all if he tries to pick up one more, but Johnny is looking out for Johnny, so he tries to take Teddy's crackers and everything he's holding tumbles to the floor. Then Teddy sees an opportunity to get more for himself and tries to pick up all of Johnny's crackers. Then the tantrums begin.

When it's all said and done, all that's left are a bunch of soggy, broken, inedible graham crackers and two hungry, exhausted kids. Nothing was solved because they are still learning to share.

The biggest losers in this situation are the American people. Shame on you, United States government. You're older and better than that. Previous generations have proven it. Abraham Lincoln said, "Democracy is the government of the people, by the people, for the people." The government has forgotten that, and shame on us, the people who voted for them, have let them.

After watching all the ridiculous posturing this week, using the plight of the 800,000 workers who would have been furloughed because of the infantile government tantrums explode all over the press coverage, I was very disturbed about how our government's inability to govern and come to a mutual conclusion was going to affect our military.

Congress would still get paid. The men and women who serve our country for an embarrassingly low amount of pay were not going to get paid. Don't get me wrong, we have to keep a working government and I get that, but our government isn't working. It's broken, so why pay them? It has to be broken if they are going to insist our people serving in the military, some in very dangerous combat zones, go without pay. I don't think it's a good or intelligent plan to distract our men and women serving to protect our freedoms by creating a situation where they are stuck half a world away wondering if their kids are getting enough to eat, or if they are going to lose their house.

We can't throw too many stones at the White House, because we, the American people, elected these spoiled, self-serving officials. Don't get me wrong. I've met a few government officials in my time - good people trying to operate within a system riddled with problems and power struggles. Trouble is, we elect inept, pompous, agenda-thumping, close-minded people around them, thus placing obstacles in their way. Washington chews up these good people and spits them out and we enable that every election day.

I wish more good men and women, particularly those who haven't forgotten that governing is about the people they serve and not serving themselves, would run for office. I also wish more American people would enter a voting booth and not just vote their party or the most popular candidate, but would vote informed, making wiser choices.

What good is a government that accomplishes nothing, especially a government more concerned with their party's agenda than the good of the people?

We have an opportunity to make changes in Washington. We can encourage those who would govern well to run for office and support them. At the very least, we have the right to vote - a freedom protected by all those people who weren't going to get paid because of our inept government.

John F. Kennedy died years before I was born, but he left us a great thought to ponder, "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country." I agree that we can do one thing for our country - get involved and elect a government for the people - and it is time to ask what our country can do for us. After all, it is their job to do for us. It is their job to budget, make laws, enforce laws, and WORK TOGETHER for the good of the people. If the officials currently in office cannot do that job, it is time for America to speak with their votes.

I AIN'T COMPLAININ', I LIKE THE RAIN

2011-04-03T15:27:00.002-05:00

We haven't had a significant rain several weeks. The evidence is not dry streets. The SPOD (Spring Pollen of Death) has coated my car in a greenish-yellow paste and has for quite some time now. I'm giving the weatherman one last chance to predict a PWCW (Poor Woman's Car Wash) tomorrow. If he lets me down, I will have to seek out a place to rinse off my car, which is currently a rolling advertisement to SPOD.

I haven't taken many photos lately or written much. I'm trying to give my body and brain time to find their balance as the doctor monkeys around with my thyroid and vitamin D levels without pressuring myself to flip the creative switch. Apparently my vitamin D levels were so low, and have been for some time, that I have to take 50,000 units of vitamin D per week to try and catch up. Most people take 400 units a day. Couple that with questionable thyroid levels and I'm amazed that I wasn't worse off hormonally than I was.

I do have to say, just over a month into this whole process, I do feel so much better than I did in January that it's difficult to describe. The doctor did say that all of my levels will not be "normal" until sometime in late summer, which I can't even imagine how much better I'll feel then. I can say it's amazing what a better functioning thyroid and increasing vitamin D levels do for the human body. Thank goodness I felt the freedom to tell my doctor to figure out what the hades was wrong with me and not put up with, "there's nothing we can do," like I did last time.

My energy levels still aren't what I had hoped, but I am exercising again. I am still not sleeping like I'd hoped, but I am sleeping more. I have to remember that one month of meds doesn't erase what was estimated as years of deficiency overnight. I still have hope that my energy levels will continue to rise, that my creativity levels will also continue to rise, and my general health will also continue to rise.

I also feel less...doomed, for lack of a better word. I feel like I am going to be all right now. My brain is no longer foggy or weighed down by sadness or hopelessness. I never imagined how much of my issue was physical on top of the mental demons I fight. The demons seem smaller now, because they are no longer magnified by deficiency.

That's not to say I don't feel sad sometimes or feel a little crazy, but those times are mostly in my rear-view mirror now. The rain can fall, but it doesn't drown me. I am looking forward to what the next few months will bring and seeing the results of hard work and the ability to keep a disciplined thought.

Hopefully, the rain will come tomorrow and I will enjoy it...and my car will be free of SPOD. Well, ok. Free-er of SPOD.

WHERE JEDI GO WHEN THEY DIE

2011-03-20T21:36:00.002-05:00

I thought Yoda just... dissolved into the spirit world, but apparently, they buried him in the dirt outside my apartment.

HEAVEN COME MY WAY

2011-03-18T00:22:00.002-05:00

This is just the way God orchestrates my life. My BFF in Cali and I were talking about moving forward and keep pressing on, and after I accidentally set off a death/speed metal concert in my room (at midnight) I stumbled across this song from Abandon Kansas. The words are perfect, just perfect.

Heaven Come My Way

A MIRACLE IN THE CHAOS

2011-03-15T23:27:00.002-05:00

Only God knows how this baby didn't drown or get smashed by debris, but three days after she was swept away, she was found and reunited with her overjoyed parents. #prayforjapan

PRAY FOR JAPAN

2011-03-14T22:20:00.002-05:00

It's difficult to find words for the tragic story unfolding in Japan. At times like these, all we can do is to remember to pray.

THE REALITY OF VACATIONS

2011-03-12T20:58:00.001-06:00

Vacations are a doorway to an alternate reality, at least they are for me. Vacations are a glimpse of what my life could be like if I could ever woke up and was a (paid) creatively-driven photojournalist or had married a younger, more chiseled (former navy seal or hot photojournalist) clone of Rick Steves or someone who works for him. For 7-10 days or so, I get to live that fantasy, traveling via plane or car hopping from city to city, gratefully accepting the hospitality of others so I can live at least as a creatively-driven traveling photographer, even for a short time.

Morning fisherman, Hermosa Beach, CA

I photographed nearly everything I could. I practiced my street photography, I took postcard-esque photos, I recorded events and places, and I shot my life as it was happening. I was so relaxed and content and just soaked in all the different things, places and people as much as I could.

Murphys, CA

It's strange what goes through my head when I see what most would ignore as plain or mundane. For example, the above shutter was a random object that I couldn't walk past until I took this picture. It turned out better than I had imagined. I will look at this picture and I will think of that tiny town and the slow pace.

I came back Sunday and was attacked by a thick coating of pollen, quite a bit of which came from this tree:

The pollen-related headache and opening the door and walking back into my apartment quickly snapped me back to reality, the reality where I work a day job, I pay have and pay bills, and photography is just a hobby (and I'm not married to a chiseled former navy seal traveling photojournalist). I cherish each vacation I get, because the alternate reality helps me enjoy my current reality, but not only that, those short bursts of alternate reality show me that life is possible and maybe not as far out of my reach as I think.

The reality of vacations is just a preview for my retirement into full time photography, whatever that looks like.

Here are some other random photos from the trip. Will post more later.

Candy Store in Murphys, CA

Sidewalk Snail, Hermosa Beach, CA

Near Rancho Palo Verde, CA

THE ELUSIVE, YET STUNNING BEAUTY WITHIN SUCH MALADY

2011-02-07T23:28:00.000-06:00

I enjoy reading the Owl City Blog. Even though Adam is my mirror age (24), I can identify with so much of what he writes, especially his recent entry about his struggles with insomnia.

It’s a funny thing. Even now I often find myself wide awake staring at the ceiling, and when the Ambien runs out, it seems as though all I do is toss and turn. However, a wry irony lurks within such sleepless nights by which my restlessness ultimately becomes the fuel for all sorts of dreams — consciously wakeful though they may be.

Adam does what I cannot seem to do - use that curse of too much awake time to be productive and turn my sleep deprived dreams into reality. Even as young as he is, he has learned to harness the power of that which keeps his eyelids glued open and uses it to bring his dreams to life.

Despite any such treatment, the ailment is altogether chronic and incurable BUT it may be the very reason by which I’ve unearthed such elusive, yet stunning beauty within such malady.

The elusive, yet stunning beauty within such malady.

To have such insight and vision to see the beauty in the very thing we feel is a curse is a gift. Embracing this gift may not lead to restful sleep, but it may bring me to a place where I can accept my normal and learn to work within it.

By the same idea, the alluring light at the end of the tunnel can often flicker and burst forth into a hideous freight train hurtling in my direction.

Been there, many times. The freight train is the reminder that my beautiful malady has a dark side that I must deal with on a daily basis. The creative dreamer must make the freight train, the insomnia, the oddity, the malady work together.

However, I delight in the mere fact that being a dreamer often exempts me from the rules of reality and her consequences, be they good or bad — and I love how dreams propel the mind of an artist into imagining what the world might be like if such dreams were in fact reality. It’s a compelling thought and it keeps me on my toes. I love that.

Adam often says that "reality is a lovely place but I wouldn't live there." I know exactly how he feels.

THE DECEPTION OF TIME

2011-01-21T02:22:00.001-06:00

Time doesn't heal all wounds

but time does go on.

Time magnifies and distills

and exaggerates and

impairs and slaps me back

to the cruel reality

where you aren't here anymore.

I don't like it.

I know I don't have to...

but time does go on.

Time does many things,

but time is not a healer.

Healing

is the deception of time.

In memory of Scott Ziegler 1965-2001

HITCHHIKER BIRTHDAY AND THE BATTLE OF SUCKUARY

2011-01-19T22:36:00.001-06:00

Though I've been battling a bad sinus infection this week, I have to admit, my birthday week has been good. I've been to dinners, been treated to cupcakes and cake and a Cafe' Express' veggie burger and sweet potato fries. I've received wonderful cards and well wishes, some deliciously aromatic coffee and a Colts mug that lights up (people know me so well).

I also have to admit that Suckuary hasn't been so bad this year. It's not necessarily that time heals all wounds, but I'm sure the distance lessens the pain some measure, but I think this year Suckuary has lost some suckiness because I battled it before it started.

First I did a detox before Christmas. For you non-believers, ridding your body of toxins makes me feel markedly better, so much so that I will probably detox four times this year. I recommend the whole body cleanse. It's natural and you will hardly notice any changes to your routine.

Second I tweaked my herbal cocktail.* It's nothing special, but vitamins and herbs can do quite a bit to improve mood for those who struggle with keeping emotions steady in times of stress with very little, if any, side effects. Again, non-believers can say what they want, but man-made meds' effectiveness only lasts so long for me, if they work at all. Plus, I am the the poster child for side effects and .03% exceptions to the rule. I can't say I've tried everything, but I've tried enough to know that natural supplements are the way to go if at all possible. *As always, it's always good to consult your doctor before tweaking anything that would be bad to tweak without consulting your doctor about said tweaking.

Those two things in combination with some time off between Christmas and New Year's and an attitude adjustment has really helped Suckuary not suck so much. Friday will be especially difficult and I can't pretend it won't be, but it is my hope that it will suck much less. Then I'm in the home stretch.

Today was my Hitchhiker Birthday. 42 is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything, according to the book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. (I highly recommend the movie if you can't bear the thought of reading a book). This notion popped into my head one night and was part of my attitude adjustment. I decided to embrace the number 42 this year and make it my best year yet, Suckuary be damned. I have a pretty good start to the year so far, a good springboard, and I need to keep my momentum moving forward.

Now all I need to do is remember not to panic and to always carry a towel.

I AMPUTATED SANTA'S ARM

2011-01-07T23:30:00.000-06:00

I amputated Santa's arm while putting away Christmas ornaments. I've done this before, as you can see.

JANUARY PHOTO CHALLENGE, PIC 2

2011-01-02T18:25:00.000-06:00

I will cut down everything that gets in my way.

I have the tools now.

JANUARY PHOTO CHALLENGE, PIC 1

2011-01-01T19:56:00.000-06:00

January 1

See more on my photo blog.

MY HOPE IS FOUND

2010-12-27T15:34:00.000-06:00

The song, In Christ Alone (Getty/Townsend) relates to my last post about learning to die. This song was introduced to me about three years ago in my small group by Joe Ben Combs. The message is simple, but powerful. It reminds me of the hope we have in a victory already won.

A few weeks ago, there was a tweet that this song had been covered by Owl City. It came at a time when I really needed to hear this song in a fresh way. I could listen to this song over and over, but only do it when I have time to fall apart. This song is powerful and I felt I had to share it today even though I think I have before.

That's how good it is.

TEACH ME HOW TO DIE

2010-12-27T15:15:00.002-06:00

2010 has been one of my most challenging years yet. It's not that I think any year will be easier than the other, I just usually have some hope of a break from the snares I still struggle with. If only I could spray some kind of teflon on my legs so when the snares come back to grab me, they would slide right off when they come a snaring.

I often feel like Gandalf in that scene in Lord of the Rings, Fellowship of the Ring, where Gandalf is fighting the Balrog and after the Balrog is falling into the depths, seemingly defeated, he reaches up and snatches Gandalf by the legs and pulls him into the abyss.

Gandalf had the right idea. He took a stand. He fought. He slammed his staff down and declared, "You. Cannot. Pass!" I've done this myself. I've declared myself free by the power of the Holy Spirit that lives in me. I walk away. I move on. Then, out of nowhere, I'm blindsighted, I'm gasping for my life, and I'm falling into the abyss again, and I want to avoid the abyss at all costs.

I think my problem is I forget that I can fight while I'm in the abyss and after the snare is defeated for good, I will emerge stronger than before. Then I remember that to become Gandalf the White, Gandalf the Grey had to die in the abyss and dying is not the desired result of any activity to a human being.

I suppose for most how we deal with death and dying is an internal struggle between leaving what we love and know vs leaving it all behind for the mystery of eternal life. We've heard the reports, read the books, and some of us have even had those brief moments where we were dying and had that glimpse of what is to come. From what we've been told, heaven and eternal life is by far a better place and circumstance than the one we dwell in now.

Most people, even Christians, don't seem to like the thought of dying, at least not before what they perceive to be their appointed time. Though it's believed there is life to come, there is fear in letting go of this life. I admire those who face this struggle with courage and the spirit to fight on for life and living, who don't give up, who believe there's more life to live for now. I also have watched in grief and wonder as the life of a fighter ends as I understand it. Death will always seem unfair to a human mind, no matter what we believe. If we are the one left behind, especially if we begged God for a miracle, we might spend the rest of our lives trying to make that death make sense, and it never will.

People (including me) will cling to the only miracle that makes sense in light of the power of a merciful and kind God - protection, healing, a complete reversal of circumstance. Those are usually the only miracles our brains usually register - miracles on our terms. Miracles of healing and protection, all sorts of miracles happen all the time, even when some dare to label them coincidences or accidents. I've seen miraculous healings. I believe in miraculous healings.

My brother believed the miracle of healing for him lay beyond what the human mind could conceive, a miracle on God's terms, and that miracle separated us, but not forever. A miracle delivered outside the realm of our hope or expectation doesn't mean God doesn't perform miracles on our behalf, or that a miracle hasn't occurred. Despite all my prayers for the miracle of healing that keeps people I love with me, more often than not, they've still left this life as we know it. The only thing that helps me work that out is that I have to believe that what they've gained is more important than what I've lost.

What I learned from my miracle journey is:

A miracle isn't a miracle because we get the result we wanted. A miracle is miraculous because God is in the middle of it, the author of it, regardless of the outcome.

I have not gotten the miracle in my spiritual life as I would liked to have experienced it this year. God's still here, though, working out the miracle in his terms. I shall not pass. I have to die to self, and then the hold of the grip of sin and struggle and insanity will be broken. Forever.

I know that Gandalf's death in the abyss was symbolic of dying to self. To be greater, he had to die and be reborn. Made new. This process cost him everything but what he gained in return made all that he'd lost a distant memory.

I have to ask God to teach me how to die (again) so that I might live the life I was meant to live. I can't continue in this cycle of expecting to be delivered over and over again from the same snares. While I believe this is the ultimate plan, for Christ did die in my place and he does not need my help, as long as the snares keep grabbing me, I believe I'm responsible for taking care of some business myself. Otherwise, I would never have been introduced to the armor of God if battle wasn't on the agenda.

So Lord, teach me how to die so that I can rise above the snares and be the beacon of light I have always been meant to be. Help me not to despair and give up. Let hope be my guide.

A PHOTO A DAY

2010-12-06T22:09:00.000-06:00

I just set a Photo Challenge for 2011 over at my photo blog, Sassy Dreams Awake.

DECEMBER AND A CRAZY LITTLE THING CALLED WEATHER

2010-12-05T22:17:00.001-06:00

Last year, on December 4th, we had a very rare Snow Day. It was cold all weekend, and I built a tiny snowman. So, it was no surprise that it was nearly 80 degrees yesterday, or that I woke up this morning and it was 50 degrees outside. It should also be no surprise that my throat is scratchy I'm wrapped up in a blanket right now while yesterday I was running around in flip flops. This is Fall/Winter in Houston.

I didn't let the weather go to waste yesterday. I went on a PhotoWalk yesterday around my apartment complex gathering leaves so I could take some pics with my compact macro lens. I took around 400 pictures and got some really good ones you can see on my photoblog: Sunny December Day PhotoWalk pics

I need more days like yesterday. The creativity flowing out of me and the inspiration flowing into me was incredible. It made me feel vibrant again, and I haven't felt that in a long time. Somehow, somewhere there has to be a way to make this more of an everyday practice.

Until then, I will take the opportunities I can and create photos like this:

HELLO, BACK? MONKEY'S GONE

2010-11-29T19:25:00.000-06:00

I finished NANOWRIMO two days early, with only 15 days actually writing, which is a new personal best! I'd like to thank everyone who prayed for me to finish strong. I desperately needed to get this monkey off my back. I needed to prove to myself that I could finish. I wrote almost 18,000 words in three days, another personal best.

The novel isn't finished, and needs a major rewrite, but I accomplished something major in the process and the novel itself isn't what's important. What was important about this entire exercise was that I finished.

I now need to refill my word bank, so I will fill in on some other details later. ;)

NANOWRIMO UPDATE

2010-11-14T22:51:00.000-06:00

It's been a busy month so far! Five days in NJ/NY to begin the month, and I haven't even had time to go into all my adventures yet! I'm also 14 days into NANOWRIMO and I've only produced 16,691 words so far due to my jam packed week to start off November. I'm almost 9,000 words behind at this point. I've made up a lot of ground, but as I am used to finishing the 22nd - 24th, I feel a bit pressured.

Of course, this is self-induced pressure. I do, however, want to keep trying to make it! I have quit twice before when I fall behind, but I don't want to quit. I have something to prove to myself now. I have to press on!

TIME TO DUST OFF THE COBWEBS!

2010-10-31T17:06:00.000-05:00

I am a person afflicted with too many ideas. The light bulb comes to life, but a lot of times it burns brightly and gathers cobwebs because I always have great ideas. The ideas are like children to me. The hardest part for me is to choose which child brings life and which I should bring to life.

So, as crazy as it sounds, even with the traveling and all the craziness of November, I'm still planning on participating in and completing NANOWRIMO. Keep that in mind as my sleep-deprived posts appear. Follow me on Twitter @sassyshae for the up to the minute insanity!

NANOWRIMO AND THE NEW JERSEY WRENCH

2010-10-24T15:32:00.000-05:00

About a week ago, I had decided to try to squeeze out a novel in November, as I have done twice in the last five years, for NANOWRIMO. The day after I allowed myself to make that declaration public and start getting excited about it, my boss delivered the news that I needed to travel to our New Jersey office. The time window for this to happen was about three weeks.

I was a little taken off guard by my boss' request because the NJ office and I had tried to schedule this trip the second week of October, when, for all intents and purposes, it was the most convenient time for everybody, especially me, but the trip was a no-go. So now, the only week that made sense within the proposed window was the first week of November.

I will have no time whatsoever to devote to NANOWRIMO on this trip unless I get extremely creative. I could get the novel started on November 1st, but I will be packing that night and the Texans are playing the Colts in Indy on Monday Night Football. So, while I plan on writing that night, I won't be writing much. Tuesday, I will have time on the plane to write. That will require me to take my laptop to New Jersey, which I hadn't planned to do. I would also have some time to write before bed on Wednesday and Thursday nights in the hotel.

The next two nights, however, I will be in New York City with my work buddy Chrissy, and I promise you, the laptop will not see the light of day. I can, of course, write more on the plane on Sunday on the way home if I don't pass out first. If I take the laptop, I only lose 2-3 days, and since I tend to finish early most of the time, that's not an insurmountable deficit. If I don't take the laptop and I come back and try to start writing on the 9th, I don't know that I will actually get started, let alone finish.

So you see the dilemma. Do I give up before I even start, or do I go ahead and try to overcome this wrench in my plans? I still haven't decided. First I have to see if I have an idea that I believe is worth trying to overcome this obstacle.

I'm tired of all the things that suck my creative well dry, or obstacles I let get in my way, and I need to write 50,000 words in 30 days more than I ever have. Perhaps this trip will provide a much needed refill of the creative well. Then, after I do 50,000 words in 30 days, maybe I should do a similar photo contest as well. Regardless of how this turns out, I need to refocus my time on the activities and people that feed my soul, and begin to tune out all that does not.

Stay tuned for updates!

BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH

2010-10-03T13:52:00.001-05:00

October is, besides being National Sarcasm Month, (like I need to tell you how well I celebrate that), is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I don't know of anyone who doesn't know someone who has triumphed over or succumbed to breast cancer. Breast cancer has mercilessly ravaged my family, taking lives, and derailing some for a time, and every year I anxiously await my mammogram results until I get the "all clear" sign for another twelve months. The question is always in the back of my mind as I slowly open that envelope, "is it my turn this time?"

I have had one biopsy already - when I was in my mid 30's. I ran out of blanks in the "who in your family has had breast cancer," section on the info sheet at the imaging center and handed it to the nurse and asked her where I should write the other names (and this was before my cousin had been diagnosed). She had tears in her eyes. It was also my deceased brother's birthday, so I had a lot on my mind and my knees nearly buckled with the weight of all that emotion.

When I got the news back that the lump they found was a benign fibro adenoma (read about my mammogram and biopsy adventures) I was so relieved. The doctors have been so careful ever since and I have been faithful to get that mammogram every year. I found, though that experience, that I'd rather know than not know. You can't fight what you aren't aware of. In this case, ignorance is not bliss, it's death.

The memories of my mother with no hair linger, of her wigs and how she used to lift them up to let cool air in against her skin. My mother complained often about many things, but she never complained about that. It just was what it was. The second time around, she just shaved her head and let everyone see. It was what it was. It was part of the process, part of the uniform of, "I'm fighting for my life." She's been gone for almost 8 years now, but when January rolls around each year, I remember, most painfully, what cancer has done to my family.

I have cousins and aunts who have lived quite long lives after fighting breast cancer. I think it's that Scot-Irish steely resolve that, coupled with the fact the women in my family are just naturally strong, brings out the "oh, yeah, bring it," attitude that balances with, "it is what it is." If cancer wasn't such a horrid disease, I'd almost feel sorry for it when it chooses a woman in my family to fight with. I'm hoping by the time we younger ones come to that time of life (who am I kidding, I am in that time of life), when cancer tries to rear its ugly head, that it looks up and says, "oh, it's one of those Mills women. Forget it! Run for your life!"

I encourage you to visit The Susan G. Komen foundation and make a donation, or purchase products that show your support in the fight against breast cancer. As much as I dislike pink, this is the month I will wear it and make that statement that I remember, I honor, and I fight.

NEVER FORGETTING...9/11

2010-09-11T21:38:00.001-05:00

I watched a little coverage today of the memorial services and recaps of the attack on the World Trade Center. Watching the footage and seeing how certain people had aged, I was reminded that terrorist attack happened nine years ago. As this particular day actually passes the images seem like it happened yesterday, but most of the time it feels as if it happened a lifetime ago.

2001 was a very difficult year for me personally. I'd spent 2000 without a full time job and I carried the weight of my brother's illness on my heart. I hadn't recovered financially or emotionally then, 2001 began with my brother's passing in January. Tropical Storm Allison flooded our city in June, and then, as I was beginning to settle into my third part-time job, 9/11 happened.

That day is still one of those occasions where trying to put words to how I felt that day usually fails, which is why this will probably be the longest entry on the subject I've written since I started blogging seven years ago (and there was that one September 11th that were preoccupied with Hurricane Ike).

I woke up at 9 a.m. that fateful day and called a co-worker to tell him I wouldn't be coming in because I had a fever of over 100 and needed to rest. He asked me if I'd turned on the tv yet. I told him I hadn't and he told me to stay home and that the building was empty because the other handful of pastors and associates were all out of town (Maine, Arizona, Nashville) and didn't know how they would be getting back and he had to go to the hospital to be with one of our families who's baby had decided to make her entrance into the world. I let all that information sink in, then I turned on the television.

After a few hours of watching people jump off the burning World Trade Center and watching replay after replay of the towers crumbling to the ground in dust, I had to turn the tv off. Over half of the hundreds of channels I had were covering the devastation. I was feverish, fatigued, and a little scared because my apartment was close to the tallest building in town, and it had been evacuated that morning. We just didn't know what was going to happen that day or the days that followed. I didn't want to go outside, but eventually, I had to leave the house.

Walking around the city the next few days was surreal. The skies were so still and quiet. I had never realized how much noise airplanes generate in my daily life until all flights in the United States were grounded.

My friends eventually got back to the city, two in the last rental car in the city they were in, the others also rented cars and one started his trip back from Maine - a long drive with a small child in the car - on his birthday, which he now celebrates every year in the shadow of the sorrow of this day. I learned of stories of those, who for some reason didn't get on planes that day because they overslept, or were sick, and one cancelled her trip because she listened to that still, small voice inside that said, "cancel your trip. Don't get on that plane," and she didn't have any peace until she cancelled that flight.

I think we all felt the weight of the towers on our chests for weeks. Eventually, though, America picked up and moved on, ever determined that hatred would not kill the human spirit, especially the American spirit. Still, every year, when that day in September rolls around, we all pause and remember that day our lives changed forever, the day most of us woke up and realized we were not safe from attack, not even on our own soil.

I pray that someday, after the new memorial is finished and the new towers stretch into the sky, that the pain for Americans will ease a little, especially for those who lost someone they loved in those attacks. I pray the pain eases, not enough to forget, but enough to be able to walk side by side with our Muslim brothers and sisters and not associate them with the handful of extremists that flew into our safety zone and hit us while our guard was down.

I wonder, if we ask some of our Muslim friends or others from volatile areas of the world who have immigrated here why they came to America, I wonder how many will answer that it was to escape countries where they had no freedoms, and where violence in the streets and explosions are commonplace. While what happened this day in New York was horrible and unimaginable, it is a rare, rare event for most of us, and there are places in the world where this violence happens every day. Let's not forget that either.

As the beacons shine into the light sky from the footprints where the Twin Towers once stood, I'm grateful that I live in a country where violence of this magnitude is something that usually happens elsewhere. I wish it didn't happen at all, anywhere, yet it does. So, on September 11, I will remember those who perished at the hands of blind hatred, and never forget how blessed I am to live in America.

THE BONFIRE OF INTOLERANCE

2010-09-10T22:14:00.007-05:00

This week I have watched a misguided pastor in Gainesville, Florida, take the media hostage by exercising his right to his Freedom of Speech. What this man has reminded me is that Freedom of Speech is every American's right even if that right gives an ignorant, intolerant person an opportunity to spread their ignorance. He's also reminded me that sometimes, the freedom to shut my mouth is sometimes much more important and impactful.

Given that, I'm going to exercise my Freedom of Speech right now.

Another freedom that Pastor Terry also, by exercising his freedom of speech, is, indeed, drawing attention to is some Christians' double standard of Freedom of Religion. Many Christians jump on their religious soapboxes to laud their freedom as Christians to do whatever they want to in the name of God, then cry out in horror when another religion wants to exercise the same right. Freedom of Religion is freedom for ALL religions (regardless of what some may say the original intent was) and Christians in America are going to have to get over that fact. If Christians in America feel their freedoms are being attacked, maybe, in retrospect, they might see they did that to themselves by acting as if Freedom of Religion was all about them all these years.

Some may be unwilling to say this out loud, but in our lifetime, America has ceased to be a "Christian" country. Without going off on a tangent about the reasons this has happened, I'm going to point out one: I believe misguided, intolerant Christians exercising their Freedom of Speech are in part to blame. If someone on the journey of seeking God, continually sees these "representatives of God" spewing hate, showing up at soldier's funerals with banners saying, "God hates fags," and blaming earthquakes on voodoo and hurricanes on homosexuals, it's no wonder that so many people, even if they believe in God, no longer want to have anything to do with organized religion in America. I teeter on that abyss all the time.

We are a society driven by media, so it's no wonder that the pastors with the microphones in their hand and the the ones with the most outrageous notions and ideas are the face of Christianity in America. The bonfire of intolerance and ignorance is burning higher each day and I cringe at the thought of it blowing up into irreparable ashes because people couldn't exercise their right not to speak. I honestly think these people believe, again misguidedly, that God needs them to say and do all these crazy things on his behalf so they'll see that he is...God.

I am reminded of my days in journalism class when I was challenged often by my wonderful teacher, Bonnie Shipman, to exercise my right of Freedom of Speech, but to also be prepared for the consequences of that action.

I don't think Pastor Terry thought, when he sought to burn the Quaran, that General Petraeus and the US Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates, would be calling him, begging him to think of what the image of the Muslim's Holy book burning being blasted throughout the Middle East would do to the safety of those overseas fighting for his right to say whatever the heck he wants in the name of God on television and in the newspaper. I think he honestly believes he is honoring God by hosting a good old-fashioned book burning.

I don't believe anyone will come to saving faith through this pastor's actions. In fact, what I do think will happen are bad things. Very bad, unloving, un-Christlike things. Protests have already begun in Afghanistan. People have already been killed. The outrage has already begun and one Quaran is yet to be burned... or not burned. Stay tuned.

I can't say I've never said anything stupid or hateful over the years in the name of God. For those of you who have heard me say those things or have been hurt by them, I beg your forgiveness. Those things were drawn from the well of having yet to understand that God is big enough to handle Freedom of Speech and Freedom of Religion. I think I finally have a better understanding of who God is and that what God does and does not do... is bigger than me.

I've learned so much from my diverse pool of friends, be they atheist, Buddhist, liberal, Jewish, Muslim, gay, straight, lesbian or a mixture of some or all of those things and more... mostly how to get along with people who don't think or live like I do (and if you bother to get to know people, sometimes you find out they DO think like you do - amazing!). It's a lesson I unfortunately did not learn early on in my exclusive pool of conservative, Christian only, friends.

Please don't get me wrong. I love my Christian friends and I am in community with some of the greatest Christian hearts and minds around. I simply believe that if I am to walk where Jesus walked, that means hanging out and walking through places a lot of Christians just flat out refuse to go - with the people being hit with the weight of hateful, intolerant actions and words spewn by people who claim to be followers of Christ. I don't believe I can grow in my faith if I'm not challenged to examine what I believe every once in a while and learn to love people in spite of myself.

By the way, if it's not too late, I'd like to shout from the rooftops: people like Pastor Terry DO NOT SPEAK FOR THE MAJORITY OF CHRISTIANS! ...which means the rest of us need to start opening our mouths or better yet, reaching out to people, not to counteract one man's ignorance, but to show people what Jesus is really about - loving our neighbors, which, I know some of you won't like this - that means our Muslim neighbors, our gay and lesbian neighbors, our Jewish neighbors, and every type of neighbor that just came flooding to your mind that made you think, "eww..." or "no way!"

Yes. Them, too.

I think Time columnist Tim Padgett (who coined bonfire of intolerance) summed up my feelings for the week:

So what can American Christians outraged by Jones' hatefulness do? Stop by a local mosque today and wish the people well as they celebrate 'Id al-Fitr, the end of the holy month of Ramadan (and try one of the great sweets). Or for that matter, wish Jewish people well as they celebrate the High Holy Days that began Wednesday evening with Rosh Hashanah. But most of all, remember how lousy it felt this week when the world equated you with Terry Jones.

While Terry Jones has made me angry this week, I also need to remember his right to do and say whatever he wants is protected, even now, by the people he is setting up to be attacked because of his actions this week. I've seen some comments by people wishing him ill and just take a deep breath and realize being a hater back to him isn't a Christlike answer either.

It all boils down to this: If I believe everything I just said, I have to be tolerant of Terry Jones.

Dang, this practicing what I preach thing sure isn't easy, but worthwhile endeavors rarely are.

THE MOST HANDSOME JERK I'VE EVER SEEN

2010-09-09T21:38:00.000-05:00

I don't know if they have HEB grocery stores where you live, but it's my favorite grocery store. One of the primary reasons I shop there is because all their workers are happy, cheerful, and helpful. I've yet to find an exception to this observation. At this grocery store, customer service is primary and I believe one of the reasons for its success. (Don't worry, Whole Foods you are a close second, and your customer service is also excellent!)

I have purposely stopped shopping at certain stores because their customer service is terrible, their clerks (and managers) are so rude and so sour and beyond unhelpful that I'd rather pay $5 more per shopping trip to shop anywhere else. My time is precious to me, and I'd rather enjoy my time doing something I have to do anyway, than leave a store all tense and drained because of someone else's rudeness.

The actual story of this blog entry started at HEB Wednesday after work. I was in the checkout line and was greeted warmly by M. She's scanned my groceries before. Always pleasant. The young lady who was bagging my groceries very graciously ran to get me a bigger cart because I'd overstuffed the little one I had. When she came back, M was almost finished scanning my groceries and was scanning my coupons.

That's when we both noticed him. A very good looking man had come up behind me. I am rarely caught off guard by how good looking a person is. Quite frankly, I rarely make it past a man's eyes, but this man caught my attention. He was over 6’ tall, muscular, very short blonde hair, well chiseled face, blue-eyed and just generally FINE. The kind of fine that you thank God for making to decorate the Earth even though you could never picture yourself with someone that breathtaking because he’s too pretty and that kind of pretty is usually more high maintenance than I am. He even made the surgical scrubs he was wearing more handsome. A FINE looking man. Dr. Fine.

I could tell M didn't feel well but she was still working and still smiling and most important, not complaining or smashing my groceries around. She looked at me and almost giggled because this guy was that good looking. Mind you, she looked to be close to my age and not a teenager, so that reaction just amplified his Adonis-ness. Meanwhile, the young lady who was bagging my groceries was called away by her manager to go pick up her till so she could take over for M. M began finishing up where the young lady left off.

Personally, the exit of the young lady didn't bother me. I try not to be in a hurry most days because usually it's a waste of energy. Besides, it was a mere second before M began to bag my final items. No. Big. Deal.

Mind you, this was not an express lane, and Dr. Fine only had an armful of items. He watched the young lady walk away and immediately barked, “well, she must work by the hour! She’s so slow!” That's when I tuned him out. He angrily picked up his five items and stomped off to an actual express lane.

M and I looked at each other and I said,“He was so cute until he opened his mouth.” M agreed with me. She asked me what I thought he meant about working "hourly", and I told her that someone like that thinks that people who get paid by the hour are beneath him for any number of reasons. She shook her head and finished bagging my groceries. I told her to be glad she’s not him because she’d be wasting that beautiful shell on a dry, shallow well. She smiled and the young lady had returned with her till, all smiles and ready to go, and M could finally go home and get some rest. I hope she's feeling better today.

I pushed my big cart through the lanes and as I was leaving, I saw Dr. Fine still waiting in line in the express lane, looking all sour and angry. He was no longer handsome. He was no longer desirable. He was no longer Dr. Fine.

People have bad days and are sometimes short or terse with others. I know that happens. I'm guilty of that myself. It's what came out of his mouth, however, that was most offensive. That's when he turned into the handsomest jerk I'd ever seen.

Dr. No Longer Fine saw me as I passed his lane and I hope my eyes communicated what I was thinking: What's inside of a person really is more important than what's on the outside... but he probably thought I was in awe of him. From afar, he may get away with being pretty and he probably gets stared at a lot, but I wonder how many women he's turned off with what's underneath that well-chisled exterior.

Then I went home and in between putting my groceries away and looking out the window to see what my Green Onion was up to with my car repair (actually he was hanging upside down looking under my dash, but that's another story), I looked in the mirror and faced the ugliness that sometimes lurks inside of me. Part of my makeover has to be an examination of my interior to make sure what's inside is more beautiful and lovely than what covers it.

I wonder if Dr. No Longer Fine will ever realize that instead of looking in a mirror, he was the mirror.

THEY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME: PART 2

2010-09-05T23:52:00.000-05:00

My Green Onion is getting married. For him, this means that Schmitty actually said yes and they've successfully negotiated the terms of the college football season. For me, this means that less than six months from now, I will be in another wedding. Either I've not learned the lesson from just a few months ago that God was taking me through via the other two Onion's weddings, or God decided I looked so good in the Victorian Lilac that He decided I needed to try again in Pool or Pastel Blue or whatever the color choice actually becomes (But I look great in that color family, too).

The fact of the matter is, since I wrote about this subject in January, this journey has taken me places I never thought I'd go or admit to think about visiting. For example, I cleaned out my closet and rid myself of an unbelievable amount of shapeless t-shirts because I have come to terms with my curves. I wear heels now (to work at least) more than any other type shoe and I will go without food to have a pedicure at least once a month. My closet could compare with my Shoe Diva's in her early phases of excessive foot covering addiction. I also gave myself a facial this afternoon and refreshed my pedicure. This is still me in 2010.

When my Sweet Onion and his bride said, "I do," the feminine spell didn't break. It has woven itself deeper into me than I thought possible. Even though I still wear the tshirt and the flip flops, I do like my bootcut jeans and heels almost to excess.

So we will see what happens over the next few months. I will try to do better about posting. I have many irons in the fire right now. I'm trying to start a photography business, reignite my creative writing, and somehow have enough down time to have enough energy for all this creative output.

Thank you for hanging in there with me. It's going to be an interesting ride! (and I say that like it isn't always like that...hmm...)

ADVENTURES AT DISCOUNT TIRE

2010-08-02T09:56:00.000-05:00

So I noticed a big crack in my tire this morning and decided to get it taken care of sooner than later. I won't mention the cost, but I feel as if at times I will never achieve financial victory in my life. Yes, I am faithful with my finances, which, by the way, had I not been, I could have bought a new car by now. With all my other recent money drains it is difficult to keep perspective.

So this morning I'm sitting here waiting for my new tires with a room full of fellow hard workers with tire issues. One in particular, Al (not his real name but we all sure know what it is by now) is hungover and passed out in a chair in the corner. They have called his name several times but he hasn't moved. The lady next to me knows he's alive because he snorted fifteen minutes ago. The Discount Tire clerk agreed Al needed to sleep off his weekend a little longer...that and because Al is so large if he touches him he might hurt him in his current condition.

Al woke up a couple of minutes ago, still fairly incoherent and in disbelief that anyone had called his name and he didn't hear it. He went into the bathroom and screamed loudly, which is funny if you'd been watching him sleep the last half hour. He just drove off, and I hope he goes straight home and goes to sleep.

Meanwhile people are gawking at the wonder that is my HTC Evo (either that or I have spinach in my teeth). The only issue I have with it is battery life. The phone should at least stay charged all day and not have to be charged two or three times with minimal use...or not so minimal use.

Well my car is in the back now. Hopefully I will be on my way to work soon. It's not nearly as much fun in here without Al.

PAUSE, THE BUTTON I CAN NEVER SEEM TO PUSH

2010-07-25T17:33:00.000-05:00

I tend to go at life at an all or nothing pace. Either I am running along, full steam ahead, or I am at a complete standstill, most likely because I had too much full steam ahead. Balancing my busy schedule the past three months was so impossible, I stopped trying. Three weddings in six weeks, two of which I was very involved in, left little time for "nothing" time.

I call it "nothing" time, but in reality, doing nothing actually means emptying my head of all its creative, insane thoughts, while doing laundry, cleaning, editing pics or whatever else needs done. So really, I'm not all that good at doing "nothing," and as a result I've written nothing in two months.

Don't get me wrong. The last few months, helping brides and grooms prepare for weddings has been a lot of fun (and a learning experience that maybe one day I will find time to write about) but free time was not usually a luxury I had. In fact, on more than one occasion, I found myself faced with more than one bridal shower in a very short amount of time on a Saturday. Juggling feelings and expectations isn't something I do well normally, and under pressure sometimes my own expectations of how I handle all that is met with a big, fat, fail. Double that with my lack of down time and yes, there are some things I wish I could do over. I do believe, however, I came out on the other side of wedding season better than I was before.

I don't download my brain easily. There's a certain combination that must happen before my thoughts come flowing out. The first requirement of the combination is uninterrupted time. The second is the desire to face whatever is being stored in my head. The third is usually a combination in and of itself that can be vary between whether or not I've had enough sleep, to what I've eaten or what I've done that day, but the first two are a must.

I hope to start downloading all my thoughts soon, but I at least need to find a way to pause more often in my all or nothing schedule so that the gaps are not this long again!

TECHNOLOGY IN TRANSITION

2010-05-29T15:12:00.001-05:00

I remember visiting my parents' home during a college break and asking my parents how long they were going to make me suffer with a rotary dial phone in the hallway. Then, after moving to Texas, I swore I'd never call them unless they invested the $3 a month for call waiting because they were either always on the phone or the computer and every time I tried to call them I got a busy signal.

Fast forward to 2010, and I've reached another telecommunications growth spurt.

Recently, I changed car insurance companies. On their bill, website and every other form of advertising and information, is an 800 number that includes the word CLAIM. On their bill, website and every other place I looked, they did not have the alternative (the actual numbers) listed anywhere.

Because I was in the middle of entering the number in my contacts I decided to go to the internet and Google traditional phone pad to get the letters corresponding numbers to put in my phone in case I ever had to call in for a claim.

I have not had a traditional house phone for nearly three years now. I have a traditional phone I can plug in the wall somewhere (and by somewhere I mean it's probably in a box in my closet), but my cell phone's keypad is a combination number/qwerty keyboard - so the letters would not match the numbers CLAIM represents.

I can access a traditional keypad on the touch screen on my phone, but to be honest, I hardly use it. I either use the readily accessible keypad or just choose a contact and push to dial. Besides, to have to look up what number corresponds to a number is one of those tedious things I shouldn't have to do if the company would just print the full number in addtion to their "easy to remember" CLAIM.

I have been cell phone shopping recently and have seen many cell phones that do not have a traditional phone keypad readily accessible. People speak, "Call John" and the phone obeys or they have speed dial, or they access and dial in many other ways. Even at work I hardly dial more than four or five numbers at a time and most of the time I use shortcuts the phone provides for me. People rarely traditionally dial these days if they are out and about with their cell phone in hand, and almost no one uses a traditional keypad to text from these days, either.

Heaven forbid my phone gets smashed in the accident and I have to use some random cell phone that has a traditional keypad that's more difficult to access or in a lot of cases, not even there. In times of crisis, I might remember 800 CLAIM** but might not want to work that out in numbers in the middle of the chaos that would cause me to have to remember it in the first place.

I searched all over their website and couldn't find CLAIM translated anywhere and this amused me somewhat, so I called the insurance company and had a nice chat with a lady named Anne. I told Anne I was not calling for a claim but to ask (since their website had no way to contact except by phone) whom I should talk to about this. She pulled out her own cell phone and started laughing because she, too, had a phone with a combo number/qwerty keyboard and said that if she had a traditional phone keypad on her phone, she'd never seen it. Anne is my age and we both agreed that as traditional phones faded into the sunset, their website's information should keep up with the times.

I wonder what stories I will tell kids when they complain about using a hand-me-down phone that is "so far behind the times." I will tell them, once upon a time, we even dialed seven numbers instead of ten and see how they marvel at that. Or, perhaps, when I left the house, if my car broke down and I had to make a phone call, I had to knock on someone's door or find (gasp) the soon to be extinct pay phone.

This experience brought to mind one of Bill Cosby's routines where he said he asked his father for a nickel and he would get the old man's life story, including, "when I was your age, I walked to school uphill, both ways." I find that story even moreso amusing now, because I find myself telling those same kind of stories! With technology changing every few months, however, this doesn't make me feel old, it makes me feel fortunate to appreciate what the new gives me in convenience... except when I need the numbers that correspond with CLAIM...

MISERY JUST PUT OUT A FOR RENT SIGN

2010-04-26T22:21:00.000-05:00

I don't know where this statement came from tonight, but it pulsed through me like an electric current: Your misery no longer has my company.

Misery has loved my company for years. I'm not talking about, "curse God and die," misery, nor am I talking about intense, miserable pain. I'm talking about "stuck in a funk" misery... misery's next-door neighbor, so to speak.

Call it, "blah," or that heavy sigh you might hear after someone gets to the point of exasperation that if you poke them one more time, you will regret it...or the boiling cauldron of unreleased energy that ripples below your surface of nice... call it whatever you want. It's miserable to live in "blah," when you've experienced "WAH HOO!" and the sigh of satisfaction kind of life.

I've known some pretty miserable people in my time. These people walk around under a cloud of permanent rainstorm when it's sunny all around them. Their glass isn't half empty, it's broken, and nobody is ever going to be able to fix it or understand the significance of its brokenness except them. They keep that broken glass under the cloud of their permanent rainstorm so their collected tears will run through the cracks and everyone will see how life has beaten them down and feel sorry for them.

I can throw stones at that broken glass because I used to be one of those people. I decided one Lent, however, to move out of misery's room. Unfortunately, I only moved down the hall, but not quite out of the building. These miserable self-pity party pros will do anything to keep someone around who will moan and lament with them because, if a pity-party happens unattended, does it really have any significance?

My problem is, since I have emerged from misery's doorstep, I have found I want to turn around, go back down the hall and help people move out of Misery. I've discovered that, while it's good to try and help people, most people that live in Misery don't want help. They don't want to leave their familiar, miserable darkness. Misery is a quicksand that will swallow you whole if you allow one grain of sand in the gears of your new attitude, so you have to follow your new road out of misery.

Though I now consider myself a fairly optimistic, positive person, I can easily find myself knocking on Misery's door to ask what's wrong and can I borrow some bitterness? I think it's because I didn't put enough distance between me and the landlord of misery and all these little grains of misery are messing with the gears of change within. I'm still somewhat connected to their miserable lives and with that connection they trip me up sometimes, and goodness knows I can wallow with the best of them.

Tonight, I just wanted to serve notice to the landlord of Misery: I'm leaving the building, and God help me, this depressing, life-sucking neighborhood, too. Sometimes misery is a place, sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's an attitude, but whatever makes me miserable has to GO.

The thing about Misery is that it not only loves company, it sticks like tar. Misery doesn't move. It stays stuck in the same place forever, and people choose to stay stuck there because being happy and satisfied and optimistic and grateful takes a lot more work sometimes, and goodness knows miserable people are already miserable because of work and a hundred thousand other things they choose to be miserable about.

So sorry, Misery, I'm moving out tonight. I'm sure this isn't enough notice for you. Did you know this building is slated for demolition? We weren't intended to live like this. I hope you get out before it all crumbles around you so you don't have to be...miserable... in its rubble. The saddest part is, you will always have company, because miserable people seem to attract each other like moths to flames. At first, it's great to be with people that "understand," and then ZAP!

Don't worry, Misery, the place is just like I found it. Empty...but full of bad memories. Dark. Too cold. Too hot. Drippy faucet. Dead flowers on the balcony. Oh, but please, Misery, I do not want my deposit back. You can keep it and be miserable that it's not nearly enough for all the pain you've endured.

And...um...sorry about the self-loathing I left in the refrigerator.

PEELING BRO ONIONS 2 (+ THE SHALLOT)

2010-04-22T00:19:00.000-05:00

I was thinking about my Bro Onions (and The Shallot) this evening. Seeing the Green Onion tonight and how happy he is (I don't think dynamite could change his countenance... I blame Schmitty) got it started. He is always starting something.

The Green Onion is almost always happy. Not happy in the superficial sense, but satisfied, or at the very least, he doesn't sweat the small stuff. He's been dating a wonderful young woman (Schmitty) and in less than one week after he met her, he went from a goofy goober (terms used affectionately, of course) to a romantic, somewhat sappy, goofy goober. His priorities have changed (Cane's misses you) but it's not like the body snatchers have come and left an alien in his place (I still might go to The Shallot's and look for pods in the garage, but the Green Onion has always seemed a bit alien to me). He's always been that romantic, sappy guy, but now he just has a chance to show others via Schmitty that he's that guy.

I would say that I'm surprised to see this side of him, but I'm not. I knew that guy existed, but I like teasing him about all of his sappy-ness anyway. It's what big sisters do.

If I measured the sappy romanticness of the Green Onion and the Transparent Onion, it would be down to ounces of who is more romantic/sappy. Really. The Transparent Onion is getting married in 58 days. (I'm sure he's got it counted down to nanoseconds). I can't wait to be a part of that big day. I've said his mantra about three times today, "I'm just gonna give love a chance," (not really sure why, either!) and I can't help but think of him and his lovely bride-to-be when I pray about the kind of love story I want to be a part of.

The Sweet Onion will be getting married in 71 days. There's a lot of craziness swirling around in his life right now, but you know, that guy sits in the eye of the hurricane with God and even when he's quieter or more comptemplative than usual, I know he's solid. He's building testimony right now, and believe me, he'll tell it to ears that need it one day.

The Opaque Onion is reaping some rewards of being his own boss right now, getting a little rest and downtime after tax season. I often think about how brave he is, and how leaps of faith don't happen or turn out well with weak legs. He built up his strength through trial and when the time came to leap, he was ready.

Message to the Opaque Onion: Get your face to Houston (the rest of you can come, too). I miss your face.

The Shallot has started a new project with his little boy and whoever wants to be on the crew restoring this Lone Star boat. This is one of the things that I admire about The Shallot: he not only has a bucket list, he's checking things off on that list.

So tonight, I fall asleep pondering weddings, romantic/sappy-ness, faith, giving love a chance and bucket lists. Always an interesting mix with those Onions (and The Shallot).

RANDOM SASSY-NESS...

2010-04-15T23:51:00.001-05:00

I am too tired to finish the thoughts I had rolling around in my brain this evening. I had jury duty Wednesday and my brain has been fatigued ever since. I will write about that later this weekend.

Before I try and sleep, however, I must empty my brain of all the random thoughts so it can rest.

RANDOM SASSY-NESS...
- It's interesting how we'll let someone go free because of reasonable doubt or burden of proof, and crucify others with no proof at all.

- People will use rules, regulations, peer pressure, superstitions, and so many other conquerable obstacles to keep themselves separated from real love and friendship... "safe" from loving and being loved in return for so many silly reasons that may even seem logical at the time. It makes me so sad and angry to watch people do this to each other, yet, I am guilty of this... and I'm guilty of allowing others to be reckless with my heart because of this. Shame on you. Shame on me.

- Yes, I did buy coffee at the store this week.

- That "knower" inside of me... I can still hear the Voice. I can't explain what a relief that is.

- My niece reminded me tonight that life is short and flies by and suddenly that little girl is almost a woman... and getting her learner's permit.

- If that activity/person/thing sucks every creative instinct/urge out of me, and that creative instinct/urge is what keeps me sane... I have some changes to make.

- We have this red, white, and black duck in the pond at work we can't identify, but until we know what kind of duck he is, we are going to call him Joaquin.

- It's a sad day when people feel that they can't express themselves because people don't understand them or their ideas, and so they hide their ideas away instead. Can you feel the loss of something you were unaware of? I believe I do, because, even if I don't agree with you or your ideas or beliefs, I miss the challenge of working out the surety of my own ideas and beliefs.

- I need to learn to fight harder for what I know is right, for the people I love, and for my sanity.

- Your eyes betray you as much as mine betray me. The first one that blinks... yeah, I don't know what the heck that means right now either.

- I have to keep my mind and heart open... because the narrower my mind gets, the harder and colder my heart gets.

- "Well, that's just who I am," only cuts it for God. The rest of us have to change and grow, or we'll never be anything like Him. We will simply become irrelevant and fade away or just be a thorn in somebody else's flesh. I think, even as humans, we can be better than that.

- New ideas aren't the enemy. Being complacent enough to believe the old ideas are as good as it gets...is.

- The tension of tradition and a fresh direction is worth the pain.

- Listening to the Voice and doing the right thing is its own reward.

- I could do this all night, but I think I've siphoned enough off my brain to sleep. We'll see.

FEELING THE FLIP

2010-03-31T23:56:00.000-05:00

Taken at the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo by Sassy

If most of life is perceived right-side up, then I am seeing life from the point of view of this rodeo clown these days. Everything seems out of whack, but in reality, life is moving along as it always has, I'm just feeling the flip.

While this rodeo clown intentionally jumped off this barrel, I feel like the rug was pulled out from under me through no fault or choice of my own. I've been on a magic carpet ride of sorts for the last couple of years and it's been a refreshing change from what has been the "normal" in my life. My circumstances have unfolded fairly well - I have a good job, a great place to live, good friends, and a church that keeps me grounded. My outlook on life has changed. My goals have changed. My heart has changed - all, I believe, for the better. I have learned that all changes aren't necessarily bad.

It's not like life is bad right now, it's just changing. Again. Many things I've collected around me on this magic carpet are in flux right now. I know nothing stays the same, I just don't want my life to get to a place where I don't recognize it anymore when the dazed and confused phase ends. When I'm feeling the flip, all my insecurities surge forward until I'm convinced I'm not going to land on my feet again or be able to recover my balance when I try to stand and get my bearings.

I'm grateful that God is a constant, never-changing presence in my life. No matter what happens, if I ask myself, "what's the worst that could happen?" I can testify from experience that God is already there, working out everything for my good. When I'm feeling the flip, I need to remember that what's for my good doesn't always look or feel good from my perspective.

One of these days, all of the things in flux will settle into a new pattern and I'll see the world from a standing position again. Until then, I'll keep feeling the flip and the comfort of knowing the flip doesn't last.

PULLING WEEDS

2010-03-28T23:26:00.000-05:00

I've been sick for almost two weeks now and have been confined to my couch when I'm not at work (or at prepaid, planned events). I've watched quite a bit of basketball (sorry, Baylor, Purdue), edited many photos, slept, and had many thoughts sloshing around in my head. Unfortunately, most of those thoughts are still sloshing, which has made sleep elusive (that, and the coughing). I hope to start downloading my brain again, but I apologize if to you, the reader, this all seems a little random.

For some reason this just popped into my head: How to get rid of weeds without all the chemicals? How about the old fashioned way? PULL THEM. I think it's all the Lowe's commercials I've seen the past two days where the couple goes to the Garden Center and gets bags and bottles of chemicals so their flowerbeds will be prettier and more productive that led that thought to pop into my head. Perhaps it was all the time I spent as a kid helping the older folks in my church plant their gardens and flowers in the spring (without chemicals) that has made me wonder why people reach for the quick, man-made solution that could kill everything that's healthy around the weed, too, and burn holes in their clothes rather than working up a little sweat and just pulling the weed out down to the root, which is usually more eco-friendly and permanent.

This is my brain on decongestants and no sleep.

So, of course, after all the sloshing around in my brain, I began to think about how I've been trying to treat this current sinus infection. Instead of reaching for a Zpack or other antibiotic, I have struggled an extra week trying to combat this menace with Ricola cough drops, Sudafed, oregano oil, my neti pot and Puffs (with lotion). Granted, I could have gone to the doctor, gotten the Zpack, and been back to my optimum speed in three or four days, but I'm committed to treating my body with as few chemicals as possible.

Suffice it to say, I'm feeling better, and I've managed not to run to the quick fix again, which is a victory and confirmation that, for me, this method is what works.

I used to be the Quick Fix Queen, but often, the problem/illness/character trait would just spring up again, this time bigger and meaner and more resistant to treatment than before. The circle of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, so I've tried to walk off the beaten path and see how that works. So far, so good.

Yes, sometimes I still want to run to the quick fix, but experience tells me waiting, working through the problem/illness/whatever to the root/core is what will lead to the most growth. Pulling weeds takes longer, stains your fingers, and sometimes makes the back ache, but in the long run, the soil remains uncontaminated, ready for something new and healthy to grow in its place. Spraying chemicals might kill the weed, but often, all that's left is a hole where nothing can grow, at least for a while.

If I want a change in health/life/everything to last, I have to go about it in the way that will yield that result. I'm in a season of weeding, of trying to pull out of my life whatever keeps me small, fearful, stuck... by the root. Once and for all.

Be patient with me. Change is difficult, and slow, but if I get to the root of the whatever the current weed in my life is and pull it, I won't have to go back and repeat this process. The quickest fix of all is to do something right the first time.

CHANGE THE WORLD?

2010-02-25T23:25:00.000-06:00

My Transparent Onion has a friend that I've only hung out with a couple of times, but he, like my Transparent Onion, asks deep, probing questions disguised as random thoughts. Of course, his question, awkwardly answered, really did hit me like a ton of bricks - many hours later.  I will get to The Question momentarily.

The first time I met him we were watching TV with the Transparent Onion and his lovely bride-to-be after a birthday dinner. My Transparent Onion is addicted to various things: Lost, Texas Aggie sports, other various sports featuring teams that do not wear maroon and white, Ultimate Frisbee, really good music, coffee (his Nana recently enabled him with a coffee grinder the size of a garbage compactor), and, among other things, BBC America's Planet Earth.

After we finished a section of Planet Earth, this lanky blonde sits up from where he had unfolded on the floor and asks, "So, what do you do to change the world every day?"

Inside, my reaction was identical to the first time the Transparent Onion asked me one of his deeply probing randomly-disquised questions, "Um...like...do you know me?!" My answer meandered because one, I was not expecting the question (but I guess I should. My Transparent Onion rolls with some pretty deep and pondering peeps), and two, if you could sum up what I do for a living it's making order from chaos, which doesn't sound very exciting or fulfilling. If you peel away the layers of any job I've had, though, that phrase is the most basic way to describe my work skill set, and it's easier than trying to describe what I do without people pulling from their file of perceived notions of what my job actually is.

Of course, I went home that night and couldn't get that question off my mind. When it comes down to it, what I do (at least for a living) really does nothing to change the world - at least I don't see it that way.

There are things I do (writing, photography, friendship and other unquantifiables) that perhaps, at the very least, bring joy or a new view or perspective to the world, but my work revolves around none of these things. After I was asked The Question, I see how out of balance this is (and I will continue to work on reversing that).

Most of the time I feel like a star-shaped peg trying to find the place I fit while walking through a maze of round and square holes, and that includes my life outside work. One day, I will find that star-shaped hole and I will fit in it so naturally I will wonder how on earth I kept missing it.

What I've finally decided is that it's not necessarily what I do that changes the world, it's who I am and Whose I am that is the starting point of whether or not I am a world changer. That realization is a difficult pill to swallow when I get reminded every once in a while that I'm not always the best advertisement of God.

I am certain about one thing pertaining to my answer to The Question - it needs to be a different one. First of all, I need to be in the mindset of changing the world every day, even if the world, for that moment, is as big as a cubicle or a conference room, or perhaps even someone's living room, car or couch.   Second, I need to empower myself to utilize the skills that really are my world changers.

I need to be better prepared to answer questions like The Question. Dang those Bro Onions and their brothers from... different gardens... These young men keep me on my toes, which, I guess, in many ways, changes my world one day at a time.

I'm working on that different answer now. Thanks for that world changing question.

SO THIS TRUCK BLEW UP OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT THIS MORNING...

2010-01-30T19:57:00.001-06:00

In the middle of my usual Saturday morning activities (this usually means cleaning), I heard a loud BOOM, much like a transformer blowing up. Since I'd heard many transformers up during Hurricane Ike, I thought I knew this noise well.

The second boom came just a few minutes later, followed by screaming, sirens and another boom. I looked out the window and couldn't see anything because of all the smoke.

Naturally, I grabbed my camera, went out the door, went back inside, put pants, shoes and a coat on, then went back outside and took pictures.

This is what was left of this man's truck. Strewn behind it were boxes of steak that the man kept running back to the truck and tossing on the grass. He apparently had a cooler and a deep freeze in his truck, too.

By the time I got outside, the firemen had the fire under control (the tree above it had caught fire, too). Here are some pics of what was left of the truck.

This is how close it was. My car is just out of frame. It was a little excitement in my day, then I went back to cleaning! woo hoo!

TEARS AND PRAYERS FOR HAITI

2010-01-15T20:52:00.000-06:00

I haven't commented much on the tragedy that exploded onto the airwaves reporting a major earthquake on the island of Haiti that has killed thousands. To be quite honest, I get overwhelmed when tragedy of this enormity strikes. As someone who stood next to my brother's bedside as he slipped away in death, I know the weight of tremendous and inexpressible grief. To multiply that by 100,000... I just can't wrap my brain around that.

Entire families are just...gone. People all over the world are sitting by the phone and are scanning the internet trying to ascertain the wellbeing of loved ones. Relief is pouring in from all over the world, but the pain is still a sinkhole that seems to keep growing for those who remain or who have been left behind.

From all these years learning to see inside myself, I have learned to see outside myself. I could, like many, choose to just pretend this tragedy didn't happen, go on with my life, head in the sand. In the past several years, however, my worldview has changed. I have friends from all over the world and I have friends serving God all over the world. I also journey with a community called Ecclesia, a richly creative and unique garden that has helped me grow in ways I don't think I would journeying anywhere else. I am often challenged to think beyond my own borders and outside the box, and from those challenges, inspired to take action (in whatever form is appropriate at the time).

I just viewed some heartbreaking photos of people who lost their lives, most crushed by buildings or dying in the aftermath. It's been awful to see how some people have reacted, especially people like Pat Robertson, who have once again thrust their most un-Christlike thoughts into the media in the name of Jesus. People like Pat, who rise up in the midst of devastation to declare God has judged this devastated country and it's hurting people with this earthquake are one of the reasons I often refer to myself as a recovering Evangelical if I have to label myself as anything other than a broken Christ-follower or Sassy beloved of God.

I have struggled to try to find a nice way of telling the world that Pat Robertson does not represent the mind of Christ in this matter nor does he represent me, broken Christ-follower, Sassy beloved of God. Fortunately, I read this blog by author Donald Miller who articulated exactly how I felt without me having to give Mr. Robertson's misguided words any more of my creative energy.

One thing I would add, though, is that perhaps Mr. Robertson needs to forget any fancy seminary training he may have had and learn how all this really works:

'Love the Eternal One your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is nearly as important, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' Matthew 22: 37-39 (The Voice)

As a friend once told me, if you get these two directives down, the rest just falls into place. While I witness the outpouring of love in Haiti, I can see that there are people out there who really do get it, no seminary degree or formal spiritual training necessary.

I can't be there in person, brothers and sisters in Haiti, but the action I can engage in this moment is prayer, which I know really does work beyond the realm of my understanding.

I'm so thankful Pat Robertson doesn't know me and had no words to offer me when my heart was breaking and I was overwhelmed with grief and the world didn't make sense any more. I am thankful for the reminder, though, Pat, that if my first thought in the face of tragedy isn't love or compassion or mercy, perhaps it's better if I just shut up instead.

THEY WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME (PURSES, HATS, AND VICTORIAN LILAC)

2010-01-07T00:54:00.000-06:00

These days, I find myself knee-deep in satin and girl time. I can say, “mani-pedi” and not giggle and have even expressed the desire to get one. I actually went to a store last week with the sole purpose of buying a leather purse, and did indeed purchase one. I went a shade darker with my hair and had my eyebrows waxed. I have recently purchased two hats that do not have any logos on them and they are not baseball caps.

This is me in 2010.

I am nowhere near becoming a fashionista or a pink and lace girly girl, and, yes, this journey began a long time ago. I did, however, become keenly aware of the transformation last June when I stood in DSW taking pictures of shoes with my phone. I sent them to my Shoe Diva, Sharon, in California to ask which shoes I should buy.

Mind you, Sharon is in law school and was aiding me during the fashion emergency by texting me while in class. This Shoe Diva knows her priorities.

The questions came rapid fire.

“Dress or pants?” she asked (while adding her complete delight and glee that I was asking her about shoes).

“Could be either. I haven‘t decided yet.”

“Dancing?”

“Yes.”

“The strappy ones on the left.”

Done. Back to law.

I scooped up the shoebox and put it under my arm before I changed my mind about buying shoes all together.

A male salesman, who had walked past me several times during the whole exchange, walked up to me and laughed. “Shoe emergency?”

“Wedding.”

“Dress or pants?”

It then occurred to me that not only was I generally lacking in fashion execution, I was horribly ignorant of the lingo and had no idea that pretty shoes could do more than serve an aesthetic purpose. Shoes could be pretty and practical and a) worn with just a dress, b) worn with just pants, or c) worn with either pants or dress and could d) be worn to dance in and still be pretty.

Being feminine is hard work and I feel as if I need a student visa to study in this foreign country, but I digress.

This summer, beginning June 5th, I will attend or be a big part of three weddings that will all happen in a six week span. Two years ago, I would have faked a family death to remove myself from such discomfort. My comfort zone does not include tulle, tossed bouquets or fancy dresses and definitely not pantyhose. If I wear pantyhose for you, that is LOVE. Remember that.

Something very strange has happened to me in the last year. After a couple of really nice weddings where I knew the bride and groom well, weddings moved out of a vestibule of hell and became a not so dreaded part of life. Then, after a wedding where the bride and groom were about ready to jump out of their skins they were so excited to begin their lives together as man and wife, I walked out saying, “I can see myself having a wedding someday.”

If my mother weren’t already dead, upon hearing those words, she would be now. Anyone who has known me longer than two or three years is probably in shock. Michelle and Hallie just high-fived each other. The Green Onion just landed the mother load of buttons to push.

Two of my Bro Onions are getting married this summer. They are both marrying beautiful women I love and adore and I am excited for them. I am in the house party in one wedding, and I have agreed to wear Victorian lilac for Hallie and probably pantyhose, too, in the other.

God only knows what else will happen to me between now and then.

The other day this thought occurred to me: I keep saying, "that/they/it will be the death of me," but if I'm honest with myself, I think that part of me needs to die.

Believe me, that phrase applies to many other areas of my life, but honestly, the moment that thought was birthed in my brain, I was pondering purses, hats and Victorian lilac.

I’ve held onto, quite stubbornly, my devotion to not being a girly girl since I was about eight years old. This journey to even the slightest attention to femininity has been a long one, and yes, I do realize there is so much more about femininity than pink lace, ruffles, purses and the right makeup.

For me, this means I have to let go of what scares me about being feminine (that’s a long story) and just let this lesson unfold as it will. I am up to my neck in all this girl stuff that‘s not just about girl stuff. I decided, after agreeing to wear Victorian lilac, that it is no mistake I have three weddings in six weeks and that my involvement gets deeper as the summer progresses. God is taking me on a journey and instead of fighting it, I just need to lift my feet and let the current take me wherever God wants me to end up.

God made me a girl. I’m still not sure what it means to be one. Not completely. I’ve had to be the “man” in my life for a long, long time. I don’t mean to sound stereotypical, but I’ve studied the male/female roles for a long time and I’ve had to be both.

I take care of myself. When it all boils down the nuts and bolts, it’s just me that has to deal with everything that adulthood brings my way. I fix the holes in my wall. I take out my own trash. When I had a lawn, I was the one that mowed it. I’ve changed my own flat tires, and I know more about cars than most women. When push comes to shove, I am my own shield from harm. When the bills get paid, it’s the money I’ve earned to provide for myself that pays them. I am solely responsible for the outcome of my life.

Yes, I know where my provision comes from. I know who my protector is. I don’t think, though, that God is going to come down and take out my trash for me. My point is, I have had to wear many hats in this life as a single woman that I wouldn’t have to wear if I was married or in a relationship. It’s that simple and that complicated.

Some women like not giving men the privilege of loving them by being male and allowing them to be fully feminine. Personally, I am tired of wearing that hat. It’s Real Man repellent. I watch young women spray on Real Man repellent every day and I’m wondering if I can get its stench out of my clothes before it’s too late.

If I‘m honest, quite frankly I wish I had a real man in my daily life, for many reasons, but for the one I‘m addressing here, to relax into my femininity. I just don’t know how to relax into being fully a woman without having a man in my life to… be the man.

I know I’m not explaining this well, but that’s where I am as 2010 begins. I am wrestling with having to be the strong one and take care of me while exploring what it truly means to be a woman in that circumstance.

Albert Einstein said, “I must be willing to give up what I am in order to become what I will be.” I know this means I have to lay down what scares me about being feminine and embrace all that God has intended for me as a woman. Don’t be surprised, though, if at first it’s with all the grace and awkwardness of an eight year old, because I’m picking up where I left off.

PEELING BRO ONIONS (and The Shallot)

2010-01-05T00:53:00.001-06:00

In the beginning of the year that just closed, a particular group of friends has stepped up, surrounded me, loved on me and accepted me in both the most subtle ways and in a relentless full on assault. As much as they are a part of my life, I am a part of theirs and though that still feels strange to me sometimes, it does feel right.

God is completely funny in the way He both leads me to and lets people happen to me. If you’d told me, even sixteen months ago that the majority of my peer group would actually be several years younger than me, I would have laughed…quite heartily. If you had told me, at that same time that many of my “peeps” would be men, I’d have told you that you were crazy. Plumb loco and oh so wrong.

In 2009, God gave me a garden to tend and He started it with onions, Bro Onions, as I like to call them. They are my little brothers and they each teach me something different both about men in general and about myself.

The first to be named an Onion was the Transparent Onion. This one, in fact, is the youngest one of the bunch, yet he often spouts the wisdom of a sage and prophet. He taught me one important phrase I will never forget, “I’m just gonna give love a chance!” He did, and he’s marrying a beautifully God-crafted woman in June.

The Transparent Onion got his moniker the night he was telling me all about his philosophy on giving love a chance and the object of his affection. He looked at me at one point in exasperation and said, “You don’t understand! I’m an onion! I have layers!”

“Oh, but I see right through your layers,” I remember telling him. “You are a transparent onion,” and bless him, that stuck on him like the smell of onions on your hands after you chop one up with tears running down your cheeks.

The Transparent Onion has shown me the value of giving love a chance, and the reward of risking great heartbreak. He jumped off the cliff of love and he hasn’t landed yet.

Then I named the Opaque Onion. Oh yes, this one is layered more than the Transparent Onion and his layers are by far more difficult to see through, but one of his secrets is out - he’s good at pretty much everything he does. Though he says, “I haven’t done that since the third grade,” he can bowl/pitch/throw/bat/sing/make music and toss a mean Frisbee, and is one of the most naturally graceful and agile people I’ve ever met.

The Opaque Onion keeps things so close to the vest that he appears to be an ocean of calm when the insides of him are in a blender. He doesn’t think I see that though, and I’ll let him think I don’t. Still, he truly has been an ocean of calm to me, especially when I am wound up and ready to spin out of control. All I have to do is look into those eyes that are the color of the peace that God gives and I am calm. In November, the Opaque Onion moved to Austin to pursue a dream and he has inspired me to pursue dreams of my own.

I miss his face.

The Green Onion is so named because he will never grow up, and I do not mean that in the derogatory way. This man is not a child, but he likes to laugh and have fun enjoy himself and if he ever stops doing that, I will revoke his Bro Onion membership.

I had known the Green Onion for maybe a week or two when he came to my birthday party last year. All of my small group had been invited and he had just joined. He hardly knew me, but he wanted to make friends, so he came. One of the things I admire about him is that he puts himself out there win or lose. He has a big heart and a lot of wisdom when it really counts that I value more than he knows. I can ask him anything and believe me, he will tell me, point blank, no filter.

He makes me laugh so hard sometimes my stomach hurts. He makes me laugh through my tears, even when I want to punch him and tell him to just let me cry. He’ll let me cry, but he won’t let me wallow there. He knows things about me I don’t want him to know because he reads people well. This bothers me to perturbation, because being known means being vulnerable. I fight this even though I know it’s a battle I can’t win with this one. Resistance is futile, but I’m going down swinging. This seems to amuse him.

The Green Onion’s favorite activity as it pertains to me is button pushing. He enjoys pushing and pushing (and pushing, and pushing) my buttons, and he can handle the consequences. He always calls or texts at the right time (but I never tell him that), and while he may believe his timing is off, it isn’t in everything.

Green is the color of balance, change, and growth. This Onion has perfected the art of living the same balanced and off-balanced space and in turn, he keeps me both balanced and off-balance. He pushes me to change and grow by bringing me to the point of exasperation and speechlessness. Then I have to sit down and figure out how I got to that point (good or bad) and it’s usually during that reflection I really see myself. He can get me to do things most people give up trying to get me to do because he makes me forget (temporarily) that I’m 40 and uncoordinated or unprepared or scared or naïve, and that even if I think some of life has passed me by, it’s never too late to reach back and make time my biotch.

The fourth Onion, the Sweet Onion, is marrying one of my close friends in July. He is the Sweet one because he is one of the gentlest people I’ve ever met. He waited a long time for the right woman to come along, proving that prayer and patience is a more difficult route sometimes, but the rewards are worth the wait.

The Sweet Onion is a student of God’s word and is never at a loss for His words when I need them. He always points me back to God, getting me to gaze upward again when the sky seems to be falling. He is a cheerleader and a good friend.

His favorite activities include loving my friend Hallie, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t as important, but he enjoys pushing my buttons (I blame the Green Onion for showing him this) and pitting me against the Green Onion to see more button pushing and me fighting back with no filter.

Some time after the Bro Onions had been established, then came The Shallot. The Shallot is married with one of the cutest, most easy-going babies and the world’s most patient, understanding wife. I’ve seen some of The Shallot’s craziness in action and Mrs. Shallot rolls her eyes and moves the baby out of the way and lets life unfold…at a safe distance. I pay attention to what she does more than she thinks.

The Shallot is the Green Onion ten years down the road. They complete each other. They have a specific Man Call (if I call it the mating call again, they will kill me) and they share the same brain, mercifully spending Saturdays together watching football so the brain can rest in one spot. The Shallot is teaching the Green Onion many valuable skills in the Mitchen (Man Kitchen/grill), as well as gardening/lawn maintenance. He has even managed to teach the Green Onion enough to trust him as a babysitter.

I spent Christmas Day with The Shallot and his family, which means more to me than I can put into words. I know if I ever needed something and didn’t tell him and he found out about it, he’d be very upset with me. That’s actually a comfort.

So I have four Bro Onions and one Shallot. Like I said, God is completely funny in the way He both leads me to and lets people happen to me. To think that at this time last year, that I only knew one of them blows my mind. There are other men that God is using to teach me as well, but these men are the primaries right now.

I need to remember to keep my mind and heart open so I can learn. I am grateful for God with skin on, even if it’s onion (or shallot) skin.

JIMINY CRICKET - I'M NO FOOL (WITH FIRE)

2010-01-01T16:01:00.000-06:00

This is for my friend Phoebe!

Last night before we started the fireworks, I tried to explain to her the concept of "stop, drop and roll." Phoebe looked at me blankly, as she grew up in the Philippines and had no idea what I was talking about. Good ol' Youtube! I found it!

DISCOVERIES (2009)

2009-12-31T00:34:00.000-06:00

Yeah, yeah, so the fever of list making has finally hit me.

DISCOVERIES IN MUSIC

Owl City

Lady Antebellum

Jack's Mannequin

Seabird

Barcelona

Interestingly enough, I owe most of those discoveries to Joe Ben, who is always ahead of me in discovering great music. Thank goodness he's the type of guy who shares.

Song that brought me to my knees: "How He Loves" by the David Crowder Band.
And I can't let this post go by without mentioning Steve, the computerized drum kit made by Bwack, and one of the songs off the David Crowder Band's Church Music CD called, "God Almighty None Compares." You can see Steve in the upper center of this video and you will enjoy some of the best guitarmony I've heard in a long, long time!

DISCOVERIES IN BOOKS

The Dune series by Frank Herbert

The Shack by William P Young (led to an incredible moment in my life)

"Leaf by Niggle," from Tales of the Perilous Realm by JRR Tolkein

Tales of Beedle the Bard, by JK Rowling (these really are great kids' stories)

DISCOVERIES IN MOVIES

Sam Worthington (Terminator Salvation, Avatar)

JJ Abrams rebooted Star Trek and I LOVE it!

Boondock Saints I & II (thanks, Green Onion)

Video that made me laugh out loud: David Crowder Band - Twitter Will Kill You

DISCOVERIES IN TV

I really miss Chuck.

24 Just started watching this year, thanks to Joe Ben... and Season 7 is all I've seen.

A show I loved, Battlestar Galactica, aired it's last episode (though spinoffs abound) this spring.

Another show I loved that was well acted and written, Kings, did not make it to season 2.

DISCOVERIES ABOUT HOUSTON

It really can snow in Houston and it can snow two years in a row.

You can be completely covered (with just your face showing) in near freezing temperatures, and mosquitos will still attack you.

DISCOVERIES ABOUT MYSELF

I do like wearing hats that do not have team logos/company brands on the front.

I love taking pictures and I hope to continue to learn and to take my photography to the next level.

I enjoy being female (hence another hat and purse purchase earlier today. I still blame Mish).

Heartbreak is a painful experience, but it isn't fatal or final... and I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.

Hope is still a tattoo-worthy word.

Courage is a lot scarier than one might think but worth every drop (weather that be blood, sweat or tears) it requires of me.

Going with the flow is a lot less exhausting than fighting change.

I am stronger than I think I am.

I have a long way to go, but I am slowly but surely moving forward.

IN A WORD?

2009-12-29T20:01:00.000-06:00

Many people are not just assessing this past year, they are pondering the ending of the first decade of this century. While I can see the value of re-evaluating and seeing how far we've come as a people or even on a personal level, I can't seem to get myself into the mood to look backward, or even into my rearview mirror.

All I can seem to do right now is look forward.

I've been off work since Christmas Eve, which has been wonderful. It's been over two years since have had this much time off and nearly a year since I've been off for more than a long weekend. It's taken until yesterday to truly feel myself relax. I went to a movie (Avatar in 3D) and then I drove around to a couple of stores and looked at furniture (which I've had very little time or energy to do).

I've been sitting on the floor or in a camp chair since I moved last April. I decided that I would never buy furniture if I didn't let go of the old, broken, uncomfortable items first. I never dreamed it would be eight months later that I would have an actual chair to sit in, but here I am, in this beautiful, comfortable chair.

Granted, my tastes are not necessarily wholesale, discount, but my checkbook right now is. I went first to Danish Impressions to let myself dream of what one day my living room will look like, then I drove to TABS and walked the whole store before I found this leather recliner. It was already discounted, on sale, and they took an additional 20% off. I couldn't believe the price (about $200 less than I had budgeted for) and the salesman delivered it himself when he got off work so I wouldn't have to pay a hefty delivery charge (TABS is less than a mile from my place).

I was feeling pretty good about the whole deal when I went to talk to E & C in my apartment complex's management office. I asked about how much my rent would go up (I got in here on a very generous deal last spring) and E said that they had decided all rents would stay the same (and would even for my very generous deal).

I started crying and if you know me, I have always been uncomfortable with my tears. Usually, if I'm crying, I'm angry, and most often with myself. Then I grabbed E and hugged her (twice). I had been contemplating moving again if the rent went up too high and now, through even more generosity from strangers, I can stay in this apartment that I really, really like...and I can do so without sitting on the floor.

After my chair was delivered, I sat in it and cried some more, completely overwhelmed by God's provision, and grateful beyond words. I have been mocked, belittled and teased for my decision to get rid of my old furniture and not run out and buy new items (with money I don't have) by people who either have more cash than they can spend, or who choose to live shackled by debt (and I have tried that route and it is not a good way to live!). One even said they wouldn't come over and visit me until I had furniture. These people do not understand how far I've come in how I respect money, and/or they don't comprehend the concept of waiting on God for anything, and I have a feeling my chair will not be good enough for them because there is only one. That's ok. They can kiss my... floor pillows.

To the people who came over and enjoyed my company and hospitality while sitting on cushions on the floor, you can take turns sitting in this comfy chair. I know you rejoice with me and my blessings, because you loved me before, when I had very little, and you will remind me if I forget how blessed I am. To you, I am so very grateful for you friendship and support.

A friend reminded me recently that I have to let go of what I was to be anything else in the future and she's right. I remember what I let go of to have what I have now, and as I nearly fell asleep in this chair last night, I thought of all the things I want to do and hope to be and began to visualize what I must let go of in order to become what I know I can be.

I don't make resolutions, but this I know, change is coming, and I will not fight it if I can help it. I'm up to my neck in water borne outside of my comfort zone and I need to just lift my legs and go with the flow and see where God takes me.

HOPE OF ALL HOPES

2009-12-09T22:27:00.000-06:00

Isaiah 9:6-7 (The Voice)

Hope of all hopes, dream of our dreams,
a child has been born, sweet-breathed, a son is given to us: a living gift.
And even now, with tiny features and dewy hair,
He is great. The power of leadership
and the weight of authority will rest on His shoulders.
His name? His name we'll know in many ways -
He will be called Wonderful Counselor, wise beyond belief, the Great God.
Dear Father everlasting, ever-present never failing.
Master of wholeness, SarShalom (which means, "Prince of Peace").
His leadership will bring such prosperity as you've never seen before -
sustainable in its integrity, peace for all time.
This child will keep alive God's promise to David -
A throne forever, right here among us.
He will restore right leadership that will not, that cannot be perverted or shaken.

NEVER FORGOTTEN

2009-12-09T07:16:00.018-06:00

You are missed, as always.

Never forgotten, always in our hearts.

We'll see each other again

and eat "Old Lady Cake"

and laugh and tease as always.

This is your birthday, dear brother.

Your sister loves you.

WINTER WEATHER PHOTOS (SNOW!)

2009-12-08T21:26:00.000-06:00

See pics of the snow in Houston at my new photoblog!

Sassy Dreams Awake

HOW HE LOVES

2009-11-09T20:27:00.005-06:00

I was originally going to call this entry, "IF GOD LOVES LIKE A HURRICANE, WHY DO I SOMETIMES FEEL LIKE A CONCRETE BUNKER INSTEAD OF A TREE?" but... it was a tad bit long and intimidating in all it's capitalized letteredness.

I am always in awe when one song, when simply read in lyric form makes me want to weep. Then I hear the music added and a voice sing it with honesty and belief that the words are true, I am swept away by it.

This is one of those songs. It was written by John Mark McMillan and sung by David Crowder*Band. It's called, "How He Loves," and if you haven't heard it, you should take a listen. If you're not a music fan, read along:

He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane
I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

And oh, how He loves us so
Oh how He loves us
How He loves us all
Yeah, He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how He loves us
Oh how He loves

And we are His portion and
He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking
And Heaven meets Earth like an unforeseen kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest

I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about, the way...

It's the time of year when I typically retreat inward (okay, it's more like a person would hunker down for a hurricane if I'm honest with myself) to protect myself from the minefield of the holidays and Suckuary. It's a season when I wrestle inwardly with all that lurks in the cracks of my concrete bunker. If you only knew how often I don't want to sleep because I am scared to close my eyes and relinquish control for those few hours and the nightmares I still sometimes have.

This song overwhelms me in a way that's difficult to describe. The first time I heard, "He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree," I was stunned by the notion that God is jealous for me and having lived through a major hurricane, God loving me with that much power.

Eventually, even Geraldo and Jim Cantore took shelter from the force of the hurricane winds. I remember how nearly every tree in my apartment complex (and Houston) was affected by the powerful winds of Hurricane Ike. I walked past trees shattered into pieces and found myself running my hands over the bark of trees that were able to bend and not break. This spring, those hearty trees were green with leaves again.

I protect myself because I'm afraid I'm going to shatter into splinters instead of bending beneath the weight of God's wind and mercy. My life is a hurricane already. I need more hurricane like I need more months like Suckuary. I'd rather go inside, wait out the storm, and protect myself. The thing I've realized, however, is that I emerge from my concrete bunker unchanged. I'm the same as when I went in, except I managed not to hurt as much, or rather, feel much at all.

I hate that I still wrestle with this, but I do. I was harshly reminded just a short time ago of all my damage and all my struggles and how it's just too heavy for some to even think about dealing with. I felt so ashamed that I couldn't be "normal" enough for this person for even five minutes. I felt like I'd been slapped so hard my face changed shape permanently. It was an awful feeling I hadn't experienced in years and I had spent a great amount of energy trying to make sure I didn't feel that again. All wasted.

As I sat there, overwhelmed and broken, confronted with all that I am not once again (through a certain lens anyway) I wondered how I would ever get over this hump (mountain).

I'm so grateful that God loves like a hurricane and how he loves me through the people he's brought into my life. When I was having that lowest of low moment, I was surrounded by a swarm of prayers and hugs, and there was no shortage of the Word or reminders of how much God loves me, relentlessly.

I am so thankful for my friends, especially my Bro Onions (and the Shallot) and their lovely ladies, who simply refuse to let me return to the bunker. They fight for me in ways I cannot fathom, because they see me, really see me, and though that scares the hell out of me, I'm relieved to know that "normal" isn't everything when it comes to being loved.

So, as it comes down to the season I wrestle with most, I will embrace it outside the concrete bunker. May I learn to bend and experience the overwhelming, strong and fierce love of God in all new ways.

This may involve a new form of uber-spiritual Yoga yet univented. My life is never dull.

If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking...

THINGS I LEARNED TODAY... OR MAYBE JUST RECENTLY OR SOME TIME AGO

2009-10-15T22:50:00.006-05:00

Things I learned today, or maybe just recently or some time ago, in no particular order:

1. A lady with the last name of Church once lived in my apartment. I'm still getting her mail. Ms. Church, if you're out there, some advertising peeps are desperate to get in touch with you.

2. I ran out of bath soap. Yes, me who has one of everything in reserve, ran out of soap.

3. My brain filter really can hold back more than I ever thought it could, even though it probably looked like I was having a seizure at the time.

4. Blondes really do have more fun but the reasons vary from blonde to blonde.

5. Sassy is as Sassy does and Sassy is free from what Sassy was. (Can I get an amen?)

6. There is so much more to me than meets the eye. Ok... so I didn't really learn that today, but I really do think someone else learned that today so I thought it was worth mentioning.

7. I balanced my checkbook and found I shouldn't subtract without a calculator after midnight in the dark. The good news is, it worked out well in my favor!

8. What I don't know could fill an ocean, but I like the view from my island and scuba diving has taken on a whole new meaning.

9. "Sweet in the Morning," by Bobby McFerrin is actually a good way to end a day.

10. Men carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Women carry it on their hips.

11. "No More Drama," by Mary J. Blige is a great song... but it gets me all riled up and makes me want to run all over town kicking drama's sorry butt in whatever form it takes. Just knowing I could will have to be enough for now because I'm all about solving issues non-violently...but sing on Mary J. Sing on.

12. I can be so busy I can hardly see straight and be completely bored simultaneously. It's an interesting sensation, and a frustrating one, too.

13. I relearn this lesson often: I can't change anyone else. The only person I can change is me, and only with God's help.

14. There are reasons, too numerous to mention, of why I'm not in charge. Of anything.

15. I can. Sometimes I just don't.

16. I am simultaneously my own best friend and my worst enemy.

16. Stubbornness can get me into trouble, but it can also get me through.

17. That "do unto others" and "love your neighbor" thing can sometimes be extremely difficult or danged near impossible.

18. No matter how many times I take in the waist of these jeans, they still find a way to slide down my hips and come to the precarious point of "not going to fall off," but "get ready to trip!"

19. I'm addicted to popcorn. I blame Orville Redenbacher and that summer I worked on a popcorn seed farm - also the place where I learned to misuse words like, "stalking."

20. I am richly blessed with friends that I love more than I can put into words.

21. I stay up too late... but I'm not kidding when I say I'm not tired right now.

22. I will one day adequately define, "Ditto-ocity." I'll let you try to figure out what that is for now.

23. I really like me. I really, really do.

24. Slowing down is different than not being in a hurry.

25. Laughter is the only medicine on which I am incapable of overdosing.

Sweet in the morning...

BREATHE

2009-10-10T14:19:00.002-05:00

Ok, so my Inner Geek is showing... I heard this song on the new Stargate Universe last night. I had no trouble finding the song on Amazon.com MP3 today because apparently my Tribe of Geeks liked the song as well.

Alexi Murdoch is an indie artist and has another CD coming out this year. I know there's not going on with this visually, but the song is amazing and I wanted you to hear it.

MIRACLE

2009-10-09T23:55:00.004-05:00

God always knows what I need when I need it. This song is completely awesome!

Robbie Seay Band, "Miracle"

UNTITLED

2009-09-29T21:48:00.002-05:00

I saw a glimpse of her today -
The laughing child wrapped in innocence,
The one I couldn’t protect.
How I’ve tried to love her,
to keep what’s left of her
Safe.
Out of the corner of her eye,
She saw what was to come,
And because she loves me
She will walk through the fires of hell,
For she knows that trial by flame
Will make me the woman I am today.

- Sharon R. Ziegler (9-29-09)

YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!

2009-09-29T19:30:00.001-05:00

OR... something like that. Here goes:

1.What was the last thing you ate?
mac and cheese with spinach...and while I've been typing this, yogurt covered raisins.

2.Where was your profile picture taken?
My grandparent's house (for blog)
My bathroom (for Facebook). Like my cool shower curtain?

3.Can you play Guitar Hero?
I have not tried. I have issues with hand-eye coordination and the thought of a machine keeping track of all my mistakes and booing and scoring...would frustrate me and that's not the point of games.

4.Name someone who made you laugh today?
My whole department cracks me up. The Roach Incident provided a very laughter-filled morning. Score: Sassy 1, Roach... 3 or 4 pieces. It's his fault he came across my desk and flipped me off. It was so ON after that.

5.How late did you stay up last night and why?
about 12:30 AM... When I have a lot on my mind, I have trouble sleeping.

6.If you could move somewhere else, would you?
Yes. I'd love to live in a foreign country. I'd prefer England, but I have a long list of places I'd love to live.

7. Ever been kissed under fireworks?
not yet

8. Which of your friends lives closest to you?
Michelle and Garrett

9. Do you believe ex's can be friends?
Yes, if they are both adults about it.

10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper?
I love it when I can drink it.

11. When was the last time you cried really hard?
Friday night.

12. Who took your profile picture?
Me (for Facebook)
My mother (for blog).

13. Who was the last person you took a picture of?
A bunch of Ultimate Frisbee freaks on Sunday.

14. Was yesterday better than today?
No... thank goodness today was better.

15. Can you live a day without TV?
I have and didn't kill me.

16. Are you upset about anything?
Frustrated and confused, spent, but not upset.

17. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
Yes. It took me a long, long time to say that.

18. Are you a bad influence?
(takes break for hearty laughter) ... not really.

19. Night out or night in?
depends... I like nights out as long as I get a break every now and then to veg out by myself.

20. What items could you not go without during the day?
music and pen and paper

21. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?
my friend Dana's mom

22. What does the last text message in your inbox say?
"Precisely." from my friend Sharon

23. How do you feel about your life right now?
I'm in a pretty good place, but I could be better.

24. Do you hate anyone?
No. If you only knew how long it took me to get here...

25. If we were to look in your facebook inbox, what would we find?
good friends and family

26. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?
Yes, unless yogurt covered raisins are a drug. Then I'd have to go to YCR rehab because I am ADDICTED.

27. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?
One person...unfortunately I proved him wrong. I know I'm not perfect and what I cherish about my friends is how real we are with each other.

28. What song is stuck in your head?
"How He Loves," from the new David Crowder CD and "Swim," by Jack's Mannequin. Yes, I can get stuck on more than one song at a time.

29. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be?
If I'm honest, I'm busted, so I'll be honest and mute.

30.Wanna have grandkids before you’re 5O?
I did... but now I'd like to have kids before I'm 50.

31. Name something you have to do tomorrow:
Fall asleep before then.

32. Do you think too much or too little?
I think too much about inconsequential things, and not enough about things that really matter, but I'm working on it.

33. Do you smile a lot?
Yes. Even when I feel like crying... because I'd rather choose smiling than get sucked into crying.

I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU...MRS. JONES

2009-08-30T12:56:00.003-05:00

I went to an outdoor wedding yesterday evening just outside College Station. For those of you who don't know, that's the home of the Texas A&M Aggies. Both the bride and groom are A&M grads and they found the perfect place for an outdoor wedding.

I've never seen such beauty in simplicity. The bride was absolutely stunning, much as she is every day, and the groom couldn't stop smiling (which is pretty much how he is every day, too). The ceremony was full of tender and funny moments. At one point, the groom reached over and brushed away a tear that had escaped and slid down the bride's cheek... and then the groom dropped the ring. Laughter and tears... pretty much a picture of life.

After the ceremony, we found a table out by the dance floor, and dance we did. I love dancing, though I am not remotely coordinated. Two of my little brothers two-stepped with me and of course there was dancing in groups. We laughed and danced and laughed some more. I haven't been to a reception like that in years where I so enjoyed myself surrounded by some of my favorite people on the planet.

God uses the most unlikely people and events to change me and my heart. This wedding was another example of how much life can be enjoyed and how sharing it with people who love you makes is all the more special.

JUST BECAUSE I'M FEELING RANDOM

2009-07-21T18:43:00.003-05:00

Just because I'm feeling random and I want to give y'all a dose of TMI (too much information).

1. What time did you get up this morning? 7:12 am

2. How do you like your steak? Medium

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Transformers

4. What is your favorite TV show? at the moment...Torchwood

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? somewhere by a beautiful body of water.

6. What did you have for breakfast? a protein bar and some coffee

7. What is your favorite cuisine? TexMex

8. What foods do you dislike? Liver and onions...

9. Favorite Place to Eat? Chuy's and Guadalajara

10. Favorite dressing? Raspberry vinegrette

11.What kind of vehicle do you drive? 1993 Buick Century (she's a classic, like me)

12. What are your favorite clothes? jeans... (cotton is love...ha)

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance? Australia, Japan

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? Overflowing!

15. Where would you want to retire? by the ocean

16. Favorite time of day? when the stars come out

17. Where were you born? Huntington, IN

18. What is your favorite sport to watch? Football

19. Who do you think will not tag you back? n/a

20. Person you expect to tag you back first? Not a clue

21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this? Everyone

22. Bird watcher? No

23. Are you a morning person or a night person? Night...late, late

24. Do you have any pets? No.

25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? I'm going to see Coldplay tomorrow night!

26. What did you want to be when you were little? an astronaut or an astronomer.

27. What is your best childhood memory? When my Grandpa showed me the ocean for the first time.

28. Are you a cat or dog person? dog

29. Are you married? No

30. Always wear your seat belt? Always! In fact, the only time I didn't, I was in an accident

31. Been in a car accident? Yes...not my fault. I drive an invisible car.

32. Any pet peeves? chain emails that promise if I don't pass them on, I will have bad luck, or that I don't love Jesus... or America... or soldiers... or...

33. Favorite Pizza Toppings? Canadian bacon and pineapple

34. Favorite Flower? Gerber daisy

35. Favorite ice cream? caramel dulce de leche (Haagen Daas)

36. Favorite fast food restaurant? Arby's

37. How many times did you fail your driver's test? I aced it the first time

38. From whom did you get your last email? Ditto

39. At which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Ikea, Best Buy, Borders or Barnes & Noble

40. Do anything spontaneous lately? Yes.

41. Like your job? Yes. :)

42. Broccoli? If prepared correctly...and with cheese.

43. What was your favorite vacation? When I visited California and hung out with my friend Sharon and Meg and my CA family

44. Last person you went out to lunch or dinner with? my office peeps

45. What are you listening to right now? Torchwood in the background

46. What is your favorite color(s)? Cobalt Blue and Lime Green

47. How many tattoos do you have? 1

48. How many are you tagging for this quiz? nada

49. What time did you finish this quiz? 7:03 PM.

50. Coffee Drinker? oh yes!

FORGIVENESS

2009-07-20T18:50:00.002-05:00

Forgiveness
by Sharon R Ziegler

I thought perhaps when I
stopped feeling hot, molten lava in my gut
whenever I thought of you…
that was forgiveness.

Or when I finally
slept through the night unaided by pills and
the nightmares subsided…
that was forgiveness.

Or when I let myself
speak your name
and not choke on it as it escaped my lips…
that was forgiveness.

I don’t think it’s forgiveness
when my fingers are still
firmly gripped around your throat.

And I may never forget.
I don’t know that forgetting is possible.
But I have to let go of your throat.
Your life is not mine and mine is not yours.

Someone still sees you as redeemable
And as long as that possibility exists…
It’s not my job to be your judge and jury.

And as I let go, my fingers are sore
And your neck is bruised.
You were breathing anyway.
But now I’m free to feel something real.

STILL ALIVE AND KICKING

2009-06-30T22:59:00.004-05:00

Yes, I'm still alive and kicking. With the internet troubles I've had, it just hasn't been worth trying to blog, but I'm going to brave it now for MEG who called me out on Facebook for not blogging.

I still have plenty to say...still working... but it seems I'm playing a lot more, which has been a big blessing in many ways. From this I am learning things like...you're as old as you make up your mind to be, and I've made up my mind to be young...in mind and heart and soul.

I've been taking many photos, and when my internet gets better, I'll post some pics.

I've been writing some. It's sporadic, as usual, but I have many ideas. I'm actually remembering to write some down. The poetry flows.

And tonight? Tonight I'm sitting here cross-legged on the floor of my apartment pondering many things this evening... such as (this is written just as it pops into my head):

- When am I going to get furniture to sit on?

- Where did the lead singer of Kings of Leon get that voice?

- Is it bad to like not having furniture?

- Can a person really drink too much water or is he just going through denial of going through Dr. Pepper withdrawal?

- After all I've done this week to strain my brain, why am I not tired?

- What do you call the music mix of the evening that includes Incubus, Anita Baker, Lady Antebellum, Rascal Flatts, Kings of Leon, Michael Jackson, Keith Urban and Jill Scott?

- I should really stop wearing the jeans to work that I can pull up and down without unbuttoning them because they are going to fall down in the hallway at work one of these days, I just know it. Thing is, I just bought them not that long ago. Ugh.

- I'm really starting to like Taylor Swift. Taylor, you have a 40 year old fan. There. I said it.

- Is the ground really that dry in Houston that we must run to the windows when we see a singular cloud dance by the window to see if, by chance, there might be a drop of moisture in it? YES, WE MUST. And we must photograph actual rainfall since there's been so little since our last RAIN EVENT (i.e. the day it flooded at the end of April).

- More cowbell.

- YRKM means, "You are killing me."

- Why am I so random tonight?

- A friend told me that sometimes coming in second is more worthwhile in the long run than being first all the time. I'm still pondering this.

- Apparently, at work, I'm Shirley and Laverne is my yang in California. We both Haiku and it gets a little crazy sometimes...hence the phrase, "Haiku War."

- I am surrounded by smart people and smartass people...and people who make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

- That's what I had said, Bon Qui Qui.

- I can be a real bitch sometimes.

- I can be a real friend sometimes, too.

- I could do this all night. OMG it's 11:30.

- I confess that Michael Jackson's Thriller cassette was one of a few that I sneaked (snuck?) into church camp. For those of you unfamiliar with cassettes, ask your mother.

- Singing makes me very, very happy and brings me to a place of peace unlike any other.

- I am so blessed by each of my Bro Onions. More than they know.

- Nicole Kidman is a lucky, lucky, blessed woman.

- Did I eat dinner? Yes... I ate dinner.

- New fave song of the moment: "You Bring Me Joy" - Anita Baker. Hey, it was in that mix you read about some random thoughts ago.

- Song I have sung at least four times tonight: "Run to You," by Lady Antebellum.

- Most random song of the evening, "A Friend," by the Winans.

- Song I am listening to right now: "I'll Still be Loving You," by Restless Heart.

- Song I am going to listen to before I go to bed: "Come Awake," by David Crowder and then probably "Need You Now," by Chris Tomlin.

- Bed... sounds like a great idea... since there is that whole work thing tomorrow... so, it is now 11:45 and I will sign off this post with this verse from a new favorite hymn, O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go:

O Joy that seeks me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow thru the rain,
and feel the promise is not vain,
that morn shall tearless be.

Until next time...

SETTLING IN

2009-05-19T21:06:00.003-05:00

I'm still battling with internet issues, but the end of that will come soon, I'm sure. Meanwhile I am playing around with the mobile and email settings on Blogger so I can post while I am in the technology vestibule of hell!

On a separate note:

I am still loving my new place and the solitude it brings me. Much needed. One thing that gives me comfort is the certainty I have that God is not afraid of my honesty and He is bigger than any heartbreak I experience. The solitude has helped me keep focus and remind me that God is sovereign and good whether I see it in this moment or not.

HOME, AT LAST

2009-05-06T22:22:00.002-05:00

Despite last week's monsoon, my move to the new apartment was successful. I have a list of people to thank... they stepped up when I really needed them and made this the smoothest move I've ever had.

I'm about 2/3 of the way unpacked and I can now find most everything I need and have cooked a few meals in my new spiffy kitchen. The best part of all is how quiet this place is and quiet encompasses many things, such as no highway noise, very little traffic noise, no loud, booming stereos at any time of day, no packs of screaming, unsupervised kids... like I said, very tranquil and quiet.

In fact, I almost feel like I need to maintain the "hush."

I've been sitting on the floor of my living room a few nights now, and I have no doubt I will have some sort of chair or loveseat in here soon. I had hoped sitting on the floor would motivate me to buy new furniture and after one week, it's worked.

I am so thankful for this new haven, I can't even put it into words yet. To borrow from some great friends of mine, The 4207 will be even more homey after I hang pictures and set out more things that remind me this is the place God provided for me.

I'm still wondering what my neighbors will think of me as I scream my way through football season...

MOVING...ON.

2009-04-26T17:17:00.002-05:00

I am moving to a new apartment this week, actually I start moving tomorrow. I am beyond excited about my new place and will need that adrenaline to get me through both a move and month end close at work.

So far, the packing has gone well and though I am about 98% prepared, I am happy with where I am in the process. It's all going to get done and I pray the weather cooperates, but come hell or high water, this is it.

I wish I had a video camera on me sometimes. Comedy is rampant when I'm with others, but especially when I am alone, and I have the scar to prove it!

I love shrink wrap. It has revolutionized my moving experience. You can shrink wrap poles together, shoes inside the shoe rack, DVD's inside the DVD rack... and even shrink wrap the comforter so it's small enough to fit in a box. Yes, shrink wrap is wonderful!

Well, it is when it stays on the handle. When it comes apart and pops you right between the eyes, it's not so great. It took me a minute to realize what had happened and then came the blood... not a great amount, thank goodness, and then I made it to the mirror and let out a laugh that epitomized my weekend. Crazy. Weird.

Me.

So the next time you hear from me, it should be from a new place. Not far away, but a new place with unlimited possibilities!

ABC's of Me

2009-04-19T21:59:00.002-05:00

A - Age: 40

B - Bed size: Queen

C - Chore you hate: cleaning...anything

D - Dog's name: currently no dog.

E - Essential start your day item: Shower, coffee

F - Favorite color(s): cobalt blue, lime green

G - Gold or Silver: silver

H – Height: 5'5

I - Instruments you play: piano, rain stick, shaky egg (I'm gifted)

J - Job title: accounting clerk

K – Kids: None

L - Living arrangement: about to move into a 1 BR apt

M - Mom's name: Nancy

N - Nicknames: Shae, Sassy, Sharona

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Two days before my 14th birthday my appendix burst and I spent many nights in the hospital.

P - Pet Peeve: when car stereos are too loud and they vibrate my windows at 4 AM

Q - Quote(s) from a movie:
"Hope is kindled." Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings.

Arthur: All my life I've had this strange feeling that there's something big and sinister going on in the world.
Slartibartfast: No, that's perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the universe gets that. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Hoban 'Wash' Washburn: This may get interesting
Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: Define "interesting".
Hoban 'Wash' Washburn: Oh God, Oh God, We're all gonna die?
Serenity

C. S. Lewis: That's not why I pray, Harry. I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me. - Shadowlands

R - Right or left handed: ambidextrous... I can do many things right or left.

S - Siblings: Scott and Danny

T - Time you wake up: depends on the day. As late as possible.

U - Underwear: wouldn't you like to know?! Top drawer. Knock yourself out.

V - Vegetable you dislike: I like most, but I don't eat beets unless I'm made to.

W - Workout style: it's not pretty, but it's effective

X - X-rays you've had: my sinuses and my jaw.

Y - Yesterday's best moment: when the rain finally stopped... and when I fell asleep.

Z - Zoo favorite: giraffes!

SASSY, BELOVED

2009-04-09T21:11:00.002-05:00

Last night, one of the readings at small group was from John 13, where John mentions "the disciple whom Jesus loved." In The Voice, he is referred to as the one disciple in particular, "who was loved by Jesus..."

Of course, I have been pondering this after the fact. One of the teachers in our group said he was going to sign his name on one of the kid's papers and follow it with, who is loved by Jesus.

Even a couple of months ago, I would have been hard pressed to take that statement to heart. It's been difficult for me to wrap my brain around the fact that Jesus loves me. Truly, madly, deeply loves me.

I can't yet wrap my brain around the significance of giving God the keys to the room I've withheld from him to protect myself for most of my life, but I do know, by doing so, I know I am loved by Jesus, and I feel loved by Jesus.

Tonight was our Maunday Thursday service. We observed both the Eucharist and everyone got their feet washed. Having talked about Jesus washing the disciples' feet last night, I was more touched by this service than ever before. I love being a part of a tradition that has been passed down for thousands of years. I am now a part of that tradition, woven into the fabric of Lent, of Passover.

As Lent draws to a close, I am grateful for so many things God has done in me, despite me. I have no regrets giving God the keys to that room. I am excited to see what will happen after Lent is over. God is always at work.

Tonight, I will sign off... knowing this to be true in my heart. I am Sassy, who is loved by Jesus.

WHEN HEARTS BREAK, GOD FALLS IN

2009-04-04T18:24:00.002-05:00

Years ago, a counselor looked me in the eye and confirmed that I had absolutely no nurturing skills. As much as that ticked me off at the time, I came to find she was right. Though I was good with kids, though I had friends, I didn't know how to nurture. At all.

I grew up in something of a nurturing vacuum. It isn't a surprise, really, then that I struggled with keeping relationships alive. I had nothing to give and didn't know how to give anything to a relationship to nourish it and make it grow.

So my counselor told me to get a teddy bear. I was dubious, but decided to complete the assignment. I bought a cute little teddy bear with a bow tie named Henry. I held Henry a lot but soon thought Henry might be lonely, so I bought another bear named Sam. Henry and Sam were polar opposites, if teddy bears could be so. Henry had his bow tie, Sam still wears the same hoodie he came with. Henry is a very proper bear, represents the child who always does the right thing, follows the rules, and, if a real boy, would grow up to invent something spectacular from within his wonderful brain. Sam... Sam is represents the child who tends to get into trouble from time to time with grownups because he feels the need to see how far rules will stretch, how creatively he can pursue this stretching, and he makes the grownups face their rigidness with all these rules and patterns that Sam just can't fit into.

I had to hold these bears a lot. I had to imagine that the nurturing they were receiving was actually making a difference. I had to suspend reality to break out of the box my brain was in that said there was no way I was learning anything from this exercise.

Then one day I realized I was holding the two halves of myself that warred with each other. Henry was who I was as a kid, the people pleasing perfectionist who walked the line set out before me by people who had planned out who I was going to be long before I was born. Sam was who I really wanted to be, but didn't dare try to become, because a lot of things about what Sam represented didn't make any sense to me.

I love both Sam and Henry. There are good aspects to each of them and there are bad ones as well. I had to find the combination of all these parts that make me... me. Then I had to find a way to nurture that authentic self.

I'm not sure that's what my counselor was going for, but it happened nonetheless. I still don't know what it means that I made both of those bears male. I still don't know what it means that they were so different or that I felt the need to complicate the assignment with two bears. I may never figure that out, but that assignment was important for me in many ways.

I think I've learned to love fairly freely, as much as I've learned how anyway. I still have a long way to go, but I have improved greatly. I have had some sustained close relationships. I love more freely, regardless of what comes back to me. Sometimes I get loved back. Sometimes I get hurt.

It was recently that I discovered that though I fear rejection and hurt, I fear being loved in return more. I've experienced love in return and it's a frightening, fearsome thing. It's difficult for me to receive love, a love that will nourish me and help me grow, but grow I must, or I will not be able to keep raising the standard of how I love people.

Loving people...imperfect beings... is hard. Somehow I have to open the valve and let some of that love that I'm giving back inside if I hope to keep growing in my ability to love.

Guarding my heart so well... has led me to an empty place. I've been afraid of my heart breaking, but it gets broken anyway. I can't protect it, only God can. God surrounds me with his love, so when my heart breaks, he falls into every crack... and heals me. I have experienced God in new ways when my heart shatters into so many pieces that only God can put it together again.

I have learned from the heartbreak, now I must learn from being open to receiving love. A new adventure for the new, authentic me.

A man asks his rabbi, "Why does God write the law on our hearts? Why not in our hearts? It's the inside of my heart that needs God." The rabbi answered, "God never forces anything into a human heart. He writes the word on our hearts so that when our hearts break, God falls in."

PSALM 119

2009-03-31T23:16:00.004-05:00

God's timing is all sorts of ridiculous. I'm finding that to expect anything less would be to sell myself short of the richness of the experience of following Him.

After writing my blog entry last night, I read the following this morning:

Psalm 119:1-8 (The Message)

You're blessed when you stay on course,
walking steadily on the road revealed by God.
You're blessed when you follow his directions,
doing your best to find him.
That's right—you don't go off on your own;
you walk straight along the road he set.
You, God, prescribed the right way to live;
now you expect us to live it.
Oh, that my steps might be steady,
keeping to the course you set;
Then I'd never have any regrets
in comparing my life with your counsel.
I thank you for speaking straight from your heart;
I learn the pattern of your righteous ways.
I'm going to do what you tell me to do;
don't ever walk off and leave me.

Now I'm listening to another song I've loved for a long while and soon off to bed I go. May tomorrow be full of more of God's love and surprises.

"Need You Now"
Chris Tomlin/Jack Parker

Time for me to step out of the water
Time for me to just loose my hold
And its time for me to leave here all that I've hoped for
Could you take me where I need to go

I am waiting for your love
I am reaching for you touch
Lost without you God reach down
I need you now, I need you now

EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT

2009-03-31T00:10:00.002-05:00

I can remember when I was soft-headed and hard-hearted. I didn't think enough, have much in the way of discernment or wisdom, and my my heart was hard and I couldn't feel love. I would believe the unbelievable (and not the good kind) and I would follow facts rather than truth, but I wouldn't allow myself to feel.

Soft-headed and hard-hearted isn't a good combo. Being taken advantage of, not being able to make wise choices, and not truly experiencing the gift of love isn't the way to live in excellence. God has a better plan.

I suppose being hard-headed, stubborn and unwilling to learn and in turn being easily wounded isn't a good combination, either. I've lived this dichotomy in my life as well. Nobody could tell me I was wrong. I was inflexible and rigid, and as a result, miserable. God has a better plan.

I believe that with God as my wisdom the spirit's discernment, my mind and heart are protected so that I can make wise choices, be flexible, and my heart can be shielded, yet remain tender and open. This is the better plan, and the lessons come in several installments, but it's free - paid for by Jesus' great sacrifice. All I have to do is subscribe, study, do the homework, and SEEK, SEEK, SEEK the Lord in all I do, for all I do.

I have coasted for a great while. I have not been deliberate about asking God for direction or guidance. I have thrown decisions to the wind, to be answered by circumstances, rather than by seeking God's face and waiting for his answer. Does that mean my life is a shambles? No. I've done ok. I'm surviving. My life isn't bad. God will bless me in spite of myself, right? It's not like I'm asking for bad things, or making horrible choices...but...

God has a better plan.

This Lent, I've subscribed to the plan and studied, and even done the homework. I even have a tutor or two. Seeking God's face has been something I haven't excelled at, but I'm getting better because I do it whether I feel like it or not. The more I do it, the more I feel like it.

The more I seek him, the more I know that I'm meant to live beyond where I am right now. That doesn't mean I'm not content with what I have or where I am at, because I am content. I just have this sneaking suspicion that there's more I'm meant to do.

I will know this plan as it unfolds because it will not make any earthly sense and I won't be able to figure it out or explain it to anyone. The only explanation that will make sense is God. I may not know the next step until I am in the motion of taking it, but I will take it. I will follow the leading of the Lord.

I've been thinking about God's plan and listening to an old CD of songs from the Metro Band. My favorite song is "Father of Lights." (sung by Robbie Seay and Christy Nockels). I believe it's by John Barnett. The lyrics of this song remind me that God is the one constant I have and that every good and perfect gift comes from him.

I have so much to be thankful for. This Lent has been an amazing gift from the Lord, and the people I've journeyed with have been an even bigger and better gift than I could have imagined. I'm still learning a great deal and I'm open... and shielded.

Father of lights, You delight in Your children
Father of lights, You delight in Your children

Every good and perfect gift comes from You
Every good and perfect gift comes from You
Every good and perfect gift comes from You
Father of lights

Father of lights, You never change, You have no turning
Father of lights, You never change, You have no turning

MY SENIOR YEAR

2009-03-21T20:57:00.003-05:00

Got this off Facebook...

IN YOUR SENIOR YEAR DID YOU...

1. Did you date someone from your school? No

2. Did you marry someone from your high school? No

3. Did you carpool to school?
If by carpooling you mean my brother had the best, nicest and coolest big sister who took him EVERYWHERE, then yes.

4. What kind of car did you have?
1979 Chevy Chevette, 2-door with 4 snow tires on it year-round. My big brother took pity on me and built me GOLD speaker boxes to put in the back and helped me install a cassette radio. The car came with AM radio only.

5. What kind of car do you have now?
1993 Buick Century

6. It's Friday night...where are you now?
Depends...sometimes I'm out...sometimes I'm in.

7. It is Friday night...where were you then?
Most likely at a sporting event or a dance afterward.

8. What kind of job did you have in high school?
I worked hard in the summers mowing lawns, planting gardens and de-tassling corn so I wouldn't have to work (other than babysitting or odd jobs) during school.

9. What kind of job do you do now?
Accounts Receivable for the North American branch of a global company.

10. Were you a party animal?
No. I helped sober up the party animals.

11. Were you considered a flirt?
I didn't know how until I met Shelley. lol

12. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Choir

13. Were you a nerd?
Looking back, yeah.

14. Did you get suspended or expelled?
Not even detention. I was a "good" kid.

15. Can you sing the fight song?
Yes.

16. Who was/were your favorite teacher(s)?
Bonnie Shipman was my journalism teacher. She taught me a lot about leadership and responsibility and she believed in me. Jean Hayden taught me that though some things came to me easy, if I worked at it, I could actually get better. Herr Taylor taught me that learning languages could be fun.

17. Where did you sit during lunch?
Wherever we could find a table. Our school cafeteria was not built for the amount of students it had to serve.

18. What was your school's full name?
Huntington North High School (funny thing is, there wasn't a Huntington South)

19. When did you graduate? 1987

20. What was your school mascot? Viking

21. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
Let me think about that... uh... NO. Never, never, never.

22. Did you have fun at Prom?
Didn't go. I was at the funeral home. My grandfather had died that week. My friends did come kidnap me after the viewing and take me to post-prom and I will love them forever for that.

23. Do you still talk to the person you went to Prom with? n/a

24. Are you planning on going to your next reunion?
Not sure. It's a ways to travel.

25. Do you still talk to people from school?
Yes

26. School Colors?
Red and Black

MARCH MADNESS

2009-03-21T20:12:00.003-05:00

This is still my favorite March Madness moment from the best college basketball game I've ever seen.

At the half of this game, my little brother and I decided to stick a tape in the VCR and start recording because we knew the second half would be epic. Every time I watch this play, I get chills.

My second all-time favorite NCAA moment was this gem from 1983. Watching it, I get teary-eyed. I really miss Jim Valvano's presence in college hoops.

This is Jimmy V's speech from the ESPY awards before he died:

May the Madness live on. Long live roundball!

PEACE

2009-03-16T21:23:00.002-05:00

At a recent Bible study, someone mentioned that the Hebrew word for peace, Shalom, was translated as wholeness.

My entire life, the word peace has been referred to as a feeling or emotion that is sought after, desired and coveted. How often have I heard someone I know say, "I just have a peace about it," or "I'll know God wants me to do (want, go) this when I feel His peace," over the course of my life.

How empty I've felt when I haven't felt..."it."

This word, "wholeness" being thrown into the mix really threw me. Wholeness isn't a feeling, it is a state of being... the sense of being restored and complete, not finished, yet... at peace.

In my journey of healing, I think I am beginning to understand peace in this context of wholeness. For lack of a better word, I feel God's peace and yes, it is totally beyond the comprehension and understanding of my limited human brain. I cannot achieve peace. I can pursue it, but I will never find it.

Peace is a gift from God and is a byproduct of allowing God to heal me and take all the broken pieces of my life and redeem them into something beautiful and restore me to a place I thought I'd never be. The more whole I become, the more peace saturates my being.

I can't explain peace, but since it transcends all understanding, my words are a feeble attempt. Just know I'm grateful I can stop chasing peace and let God continue his work.

STRENGTH

2009-03-07T20:33:00.003-06:00

Early this morning (or late last night, depending on your point of view and whether or not you slept longer than I did, which you probably did), I was talking to my little brother (my transparent onion) about strength. Or rather, he was talking... I was definitely listening... and it was definitely early or late...

All week long, people have been telling me how strong they think I am because of how I am facing the consequences of what God has required of me this Lent. And yes, I do feel much stronger and more able to withstand what's being thrown at me right now. In that sense, I am stronger than I think I am. I take all those compliments very seriously and welcome any positive reinforcement of how I handle things. So, thank you.

Earlier this week, MTO (my transparent onion) was encouraging me to lean into God and use him as my source of strength. After he noticed a couple of people told me I was strong again this week, MTO wanted to remind me of our earlier conversation. Believe me, with the sleep I haven't had this week, I am probably getting this all out of order and may have missed something, so I will get straight to his point, a point I knew, but little brother's just trying to make sure I don't forget and get frustrated if I don't find my is strength enough... and it never really is.

Then he reminded me of a song we sing often in church by Jon Foreman called, "Your Love is Strong."

Two things you told me
That you are strong
And you love me
Yes, you love me

Your love is
Your love is
Your love is strong

I need to let God be my strength and make me stronger, and just like the song says, God's love is strong... And trust me MTO, I heard it all, and you tied it all nicely together, and even though my brain can't recreate it, trust me, my heart got it.

Thank you so much for walking through all this with me... and again, I reiterate that God's timing is ten kinds of ridiculous for putting some incredible, unique and diverse people in my life when I really need God with skin on.

I went to bed around 4:20 AM, woke up at 9 to take some allergy meds and went back to sleep. Then the other little brother (your new initials are forthcoming) called me at 10:38 and I'm glad he did. I would probably still be asleep and completely unprepared to lose an hour of sleep tonight...

UNPACKING

2009-03-07T19:54:00.002-06:00

I've had quite a bit to unpack and process this week.

Just after I gave God the keys to the room he required of me, my resolve was tested as hard as it could be. In the past, when faced with this particular test, violent nightmares and other extreme evidences of stress would follow. This state of mind wasn't something I wanted to repeat, so I dug in and prayed I was strong enough to withstand what I was about to face.

I came face to face with the test and I was overwhelmed with the change in me. What had once been a storm I could not withstand, a mountain I could not climb, that monster under the bed that jumps out at night in the dark, was suddenly a small, pale ghost, a remnant of a nightmare, but no longer menacing to the child within. I knew at that moment, a freedom I'd begged God for, was mine to embrace.

While I haven't had a good night's sleep all week, I haven't had one nightmare. Instead of stress eating, I've lost 8 pounds in about 10 days. Though earlier this week my neck and shoulders ached from stress, and I fought back nausea for a couple of days, by the end of the week I felt lighter than I ever have in my life.

God is good.

Even though Sunday morning I found myself slipping back into a couple of behaviors I have fought so hard to overcome (which made me fear the onset of nightmares and stress all that much more), I decided Tuesday night to begin to focus on all the good things that are happening as a result of giving God the keys and allowing him to heal me. Those behaviors are now at bay. I cannot fathom the end of this journey right now, but I am in the fast lane and I am trying so hard not to get disoriented and just take the healing as it comes.

First, I let him in the room he required, then I was faced with a test that almost made me want to lock it back up... but I persevered. Then, today, while shredding old bills and such, I came across a pile of notes and letters from the time when I first began this journey of healing in counseling, some seven years ago. I had always planned to burn these papers, but never had the opportunity. I had forgotten about them until they appeared in a pile marked, "shred."

I have to add that God's timing is about ten kinds of ridiculous in my human mind, but I know God's timing is perfect... because he lives outside of time.

I started reading where I'd been and my stomach began to churn. Finally decided I didn't need reminded... and through the shredder those pages went, one by one, never to be read again.

I want to get to the point where I can't remember what I've forgotten, and I think I'm well on my way.

KEYS

2009-02-25T23:02:00.000-06:00

Lent is upon us again.

Last night I made pancakes for two friends and we enjoyed each others' company and enjoyed a tradition of what many do the night before Lent. We celebrated Fat Tuesday, the last night for forty days to indulge before entering a season of reflection, prayer, and fasting.

After my friends left, I asked God what he wanted me to learn during this Lenten season... what was I to sacrifice to bring me closer to him. Many things entered my mind, but nothing concrete hit me as I fell asleep.

When I woke up, however, I was overwhelmed by a clear request from the heart of God. Though much of my heart and life is open to God, I have held one room locked from him. The scariest room in the whole house that is my heart, my mind, my life. The room of a terrified, eight-year old girl that I've tried to protect all my life. The age when I recoiled slowly inside myself, when I truly believe I lost the road map to what it truly means to be a woman... losing the desire to be feminine, the "weaker" vessel, when I made myself tough and self-reliant.

I don't hear God in clear voice or tones, but there it was: Let me in her room. Let me have the keys to that room.

Long story short, though the adult me has found healing, I've protected the child inside me from having to deal with the abuse. While I've known that deep down somewhere... I just never could acknowledge it.

I began to cry and tried to get on with the tasks at hand - getting up, eating breakfast, going to work. I kept crying. I was so overwhelmed. I sat down at my table and opened Psalm 27 in The Message.

1 Light, space, zest— that's God!
So, with him on my side I'm fearless,
afraid of no one and nothing.

It was so on at that point.

More crying. I begged God for mercy. I don't even know where the keys to that room are, God. That part of me can't be fixed. It's broken forever. Then I realized I've even hidden her away from myself.

I've done so much soul-searching lately and I blame/credit/acknowledge that's because I have this new set of little brothers (which is odd to say because they're both so dang tall) who, like the moon, soak God's light up like they can't get enough and reflect the light back and illuminate more than they know. Both these guys approach challenges in different ways, but their God is big and both are wise beyond their years. They have each taught me more in such a short time than I could possibly teach them in a lifetime. Fun thing is they really don't know it and I can picture both faces if I actually said all this to them. Above all, they make me laugh and smile, which are gifts I cherish in friends.

One brother has been a steadfast rudder in my life. He isn't predictable by any means, but I know exactly what to expect from him. He speaks softly, but the weight of his words often hits me between the eyes with some force. He has such a peaceful soul, and has been so tolerant and understanding and willing to put up with me being all over the map sometimes. He gets excited about my dreams and discoveries. He is a gentle man, a seeker of God's heart who weighs his weighty words and finds something good to say about everybody and everything or he won't say much at all. He's someone I want to be like when I grow up.

The other brother, whom I only recently connected with, but feel like I've known forever, could talk about God all day long... He's the one who asks me all these soul-searching questions (and I'm like, do you even know me?!) that I've actually let myself think about and even dare to answer. When he commits to someone or some thing, he is ALL in. He ponders deeply, and is my complex, but transparent (to me) onion. Sometimes I am ashamed to be around both of them because of how much they truly and deeply love God with a passion I wish I could feel, but that the walls I protect myself with keep me from feeling most of the time.

Oh, those walls, those shields... I know what they are. I've lived with them for 32 years. The extra weight of protection. The sarcasm. The toughness. The "at arm's length." The list is long. What I do know is that these walls keep me closed to love and keep me from truly pursuing my womanhood fully.

Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I do many feminine things, but I never have embraced my femininity. To embrace that part of myself, I have to let go of some fears and lies. I have to unfold and let that 8 year old girl, still innocent, who loved flowers and kittens and dolls and dresses grow up outside that room that I've protected her in and let her experience life out here, come what may.

Let me in her room. Let me have the keys to that room.

I didn't even argue this time, because... it's time. Psalm 27 unfolded in front of me and ended with:

13-14 I'm sure now I'll see God's goodness
in the exuberant earth.
Stay with God!
Take heart. Don't quit.
I'll say it again:
Stay with God.

Let me in her room. Let me have the keys to that room.

So tonight, I asked God to show me where I'd hidden the keys, and then I handed them over. The door creaked open and I can't describe what I feel right now. Just know this is the scariest thing I've ever done because it's from the scariest place I've ever been.

I'm still not certain what any of this means for the next forty days. Lest you think I will start wearing lace and hot pink... you would be mistaken. I don't know that this is what that is about. What I do know is that as these walls fall down, I will know God more intimately than I ever have before, because he has the all-access pass now. That's what I desire most, is to be everything he created me to be, and that, includes the role of woman. Whatever that means.

What I have discovered by re-examining the past few weeks, though, is that I find myself discovering more what it means to be a woman by being book-ended by two people who know how to be godly men. God has so used that and set me up to be in this place of vulnerability and change, well guarded.

As the walls fall down, the more I am able to freely give of myself and God is using that in creative ways, and I look forward to that over the next forty days as well.

I go to sleep tonight so grateful, so encouraged, so hopeful, knowing God is faithful and with him all things are possible.

Buckle up, y'all. It's going to be an interesting ride.

HAPPINESS

2009-02-12T23:57:00.003-06:00

The entire The Fray album is excellent, both lyrically and musically. I could listen to it all day long (ok, right now I do). My favorite songs are "You Found Me," and the album closer, "Happiness."

I listened to "Happiness" just once before I thought of a friend of mine and how we both wrestle with this beast. I love it when I listen to a song and it brings me to a person, place, a sigh, a conversation or confession. I think this song will be a favorite of mine for years to come, just because of how much takes hold of me even when I'm not listening to it.

Happiness isn't a given, it's a choice. It's not a feeling, or a right, or person, or a thing. I believe happiness is something that happens when I choose hope and let it lead me to places I could never dream of on my own. Before happiness, there must be hope, and before I can choose happiness, I must choose hope.

Happiness...Look for it and you'll never find it all
But let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day you'll wake up and she'll be home

HAPPINESS
(Isaac Slade/The Fray)

Happiness was just outside my window
I thought it’d crash blowing eighty miles an hour
But happiness is a little more like knocking
On your door, you just let it in

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow
Let it be, you can't make it come or go
But you are gone, not for good but for now
And gone for now feels a lot like gone for good

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard
Happiness was never mine to hold
Careful child, light the fuse and get away
Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself that’s enough for now
But happiness has a violent roar

Happiness it's like the old man told me
Look for it and you'll never find it all
But let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day you'll wake up and she'll be home

YOU FOUND ME

2009-02-12T23:36:00.006-06:00

I bought the new The Fray album last Tuesday and have listened to little else since. I bought the sheet music to this song and I know if I keep practicing I will be able to play it before my next birthday, ha!

This song touched me in many ways, but it touched me most because it is an honest moment in this person's life, a moment when he cries out, God, "where were you?!" and I've been there.

I envy those who feel God with them always. I long for those times. Lately, however, I have been overwhelmed by the goodness of God. God is always good. God is always loving. I just don't always feel it or am blinded or distracted from seeing it.

One thing I strive for is a realness and transparency in my life and I can't sit here and say that my walk with God is hunky dory all the time. It's not. I'm not perfect, but He is the perfect, patient author of my life who waits for my addled human brain to catch up with His glorious plans for me.

It's good to know God is big enough to handle my most honest, raw moments. I know then our relationship is as real as it gets, and that is more comforting than any artificial response I could conjure in my darkest, most real moments.

Sometimes life is hard, but God is good. Sometimes I realize it in those moments, sometimes I don't. Because what I have is real with God, I know I will get to the other side of those laments of "Where were you?!" and look up in hope and keep walking.

Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Why’d you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, You found me

25 RANDOM THINGS

2009-02-04T22:15:00.002-06:00

I've been tagged on Facebook by untold numbers of people... so I'm going to do a NancyMon and post 25 Random Things about me here and it will migrate to Facebook like a good little post. I would tag some people, but... I think everybody in Facebook-dom has been tagged.

25 Random Things About Me (in the order they popped into my head)

1. I have to get a new car soon - my stereo is going out. It is dangerous to drive in silence.

2. I refuse to act my age because I'm not really sure how 40 year-olds are supposed to act.

3. I'm not afraid to grow old, I just battle the fear of growing old alone.

4. I'm a sci-fi geek, though I do not speak Klingon or Elvish. I would love to study Elvish.

5. I think I could live without books, but I could not live without music.

6. If I'm ever vulnerable and completely real with you, you have been accepted into a level of trust few ever experience. So few know the real me, and I hope one day that changes.

7. I envy true musicians. I hear scores and songs in my head all the time, I just have no way to get them out.

8. I once cracked my head open hanging off the back of a Lazy-Boy.

9. Every day I feel I am on the brink of something wonderful and some days wonderful actually shows up.

10. Hope is one of my life words.

11. I love to travel and see new places.

12. I see life so differently through the lens of my camera.

13. Every day I ask God to save me from myself.

14. I honestly believe I am living out my second childhood right now. It only becomes a midlife crisis if I buy a corvette and acquire a trophy husband.

15. I have extensive training in "random." Just try to throw me off track.

16. The last movie I watched with my brother Scott was Galaxy Quest. Whenever I watch it, I can hear him laugh, always in the same places.

17. The best track on the new The Fray album is "Happiness," but "Enough for Now" made me cry.

18. If I could go barefooted all the time, I would.

19. My beloved Grandpa always called me Taterbug. He also reinforced the notion in my life that knowledge is power and freedom.

20. I believe in divine intervention and miracles, especially the ones others would call coincidence.

21. I can make almost any baby/toddler smile.

22. I have had a toe ring since 1996 and wonder if I could get it off even if I wanted to.

23. Yoda is my favorite Star Wars character...and when I watch any Star Wars movie and someone says, "May the Force be with you," I ALWAYS say, "and also with you." I can't help myself.

24. I like being weird, goofy, strange, sassy, odd, and discovering life outside the box.

25. My heart is open. Finally.

NOT JUST ANOTHER PRETTY FACE

2009-01-30T20:12:00.002-06:00

The other day I got in a picture-posting war with a friend of mine from college on Facebook. We started posting pictures from our college days. Of course, we did not post certain pictures... you know, we were kind to each other. I laughed as I went through each picture. Wow, did I have wardrobe and hair issues!

If some of these pictures had surfaced a few years ago, I would have been mortified. I used to be consumed with what people thought of me and was convinced people's acceptance of me greatly depended on how perfect my hair was, or how stylish my clothes were or how I looked in them. One day a friend pointed out that perhaps people didn't think as much about how I looked or what I did as I thought they did. She was right.

Somewhere down the road, I became comfortable in my own skin. My face, my hair, my weight... how I look in pictures... it all is what it is. Most of me is fluffy. I could stand to lose a few pounds, simply for health reasons. Most of us could. I don't obsess over my weight though. Not anymore. My two chins have grown comfortable with each other. If one were to disappear, the other would leave to go find it and bring it back. Then I'd look really odd, but I still wouldn't care.

Yes, there are days when I still have bad hair days, my face still breaks out, and some days my jeans are too tight. The biggest difference is how I view myself as a whole... or rather, how I view myself as whole.

I'm not even close to the end of the road, but I am thankful to have finally hit this milestone. I'm sure there will be a day when I will burst into tears when I don't think I look just right, but I hope I can remember that life isn't about being another pretty face...and that no matter what anyone says or thinks, it is a pretty face.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

2009-01-30T19:24:00.004-06:00

I've never been a rich woman, that is, in financial terms. I've always struggled to make ends meet, never had savings, could never walk into a store and buy all the groceries I wanted and not worry about how I would pay for it all...and there were times where if I walked out with more than two bags of groceries, I felt giddy.

I'm still not a rich woman, at least not in financial terms, but I have a little more breathing room each month and can buy whatever groceries I want, and still have enough leftover to buy gas... maybe dinner out more than once... some to save... and some to give away.

It's an odd feeling, living in this space of enough. I feel comfortable (but not complacent) with where I am in life, but not because I have a full refrigerator, or because I have nicer clothes or actually have hopes of buying a car in the nearer future... but because something has shifted inside me.

The money isn't important. Money used to be hugely important in my life. Money used to be the answer at the end of every sentence. I'd travel if I had... I'd make time for (blank) if I had... I'd be happier if I had more... you get the idea.

Now, the money is there and it didn't answer any questions or give me more time or creativity or happiness... I just finally realized a year or so ago, that money wasn't important. I was satisfied with what I had, and then God gave me more.

God has provided me more than financially, he has set me in the perfect place for this season of my life. I am rich with friends. He has surrounded me with loving friends and for the first time I feel like I'm on the verge of truly being able to receive love freely.

I know people have loved me. I've felt loved before. I don't know how to describe how I feel right now, really, only that I know I resist love less, almost not at all even in spite of myself. I have fought long and hard to get here, and now that I stand on this precipice, all I feel like I should do is let go and soak it all in.

Just some random thoughts. Maybe I should write one night about what wonders around in my brain... then again, maybe not... ha

WHEN THE WIND CHANGES

2009-01-27T19:01:00.003-06:00

Whenever I look out my window at work, I can tell by which way the flags are blowing what to expect from the weather when I walk outside. All day today, I watched the flags outside my window blow in the muggy, southerly wind, but right before I went home from work, slowly the wind direction changed. The air from the northwest was cold and much drier when I walked outside, a welcome relief.

As I learned with Hurricane Ike, the wind can destroy and damage. When I go to the Hill Country, the gentle breezes are a welcome relief from the heat that so often bears down on Texas. Other times, the wind is oppressively absent and the hair hangs on my skin in thick, wet blankets.

Often I feel as if I live life leaning into the wind, caught off balance when the wind subsides or changes direction. I am trying to learn how to tell when the wind is going to change by being observant of the small things that happen in life, as well as the big ones. Sometimes, though, wind change just can't be predicted.

Yesterday, the wind changed directions abruptly for many friends of mine. One friend in particular found out, on his birthday of all days, that at the end of February he will no longer have a job. The list of casualties is long, and each time I think about it, my heart is heavy for my friends.

Had I stayed at my previous job, my name would be on the list of those now wondering what their future holds. I would be in shock, I would be angry, I would be grieving. Loudly.

I've been careful not to fill my friends' ears with platitudes. Fact is, their current situation sucks. I've been let go before. One day you are working in a job with purpose, not perfect, but still, a job, and the next day you are holding a severance check in one hand and a stack of bills in the other wondering what's next and terrified to ask, "what's next?" The disorientation is suffocating and the next step isn't clear.

The thing I've learned about the suckiness of losing a job is that no matter how low I felt or how high the stack of bills was, God is still God. He is not surprised when the wind changes, and quite often, he's caused it to blow, or at the very least, allowed it. I've seen God get more out of my checkbook than I ever could imagine. I've seen God put food on my table from the unlikeliest of places, and given me rich experiences I'd never have had if I hadn't had to let go of the notion that I had any control over my life anyway.

I am praying for my friends, that they might find the treasures in this darkness and emerge with new and exciting stories of God's faithfulness during this time. I know they will, and I've been there... but I, too, had to work through all the anger, grief and disbelief before I'd believe it when anyone said I'd someday see God's hand in all that had happened.

They were right, it turns out, even if I didn't want to hear it at the time. The wind has indeed changed, but we serve a sovereign God. He was and is and is to come.

I look forward to your reports of God's faithfulness, friends, but for now, I grieve with you.

NEW LOOK!

2009-01-21T22:08:00.001-06:00

My birthday present from Jene' was a new look for my blog. She took a photo I took in Yosemite and gave my blog a face lift. Thanks, Jene'!

PRESIDENT OBAMA

2009-01-20T20:01:00.003-06:00

I don't think I will ever forget this day.

As I sat and watched our 44th president being sworn in this morning, I couldn't hold back the tears. The day was laced with historical moments, including being sworn in with the same Bible as Abraham Lincoln.

I watched as Obama took the oath of office and the country (most of it) rejoiced. I don't know what will happen in the next four years, but my hope is that this new direction will be a good, productive one.

One thing I did hear broadcast today resonated with me. A woman who was attending the inauguration with her daughters said that she talked to her daughters about why today was so important, why the election of someone who represents a different ethnicity than the previous 43 presidents was historical and significant. Her hope is that when her daughters have daughters of their own and they recall their memories of this day and explain why this day was laden with historical significance, that her granddaughters will wonder why having an African-American president is a big deal.

My heart echoes that hope and I look forward to the day when we're all just Americans no matter what our skin color or heritage is. May that day come sooner than later.

2009-01-14T23:57:00.001-06:00

Today, while pondering what I'd written last night about mountains and climbing, I found this on Ragamuffin Soul. It's an awesome illustration!

BABY STEPS AND THE BIG 4-0

2009-01-13T20:24:00.009-06:00

In less than a week, I will turn forty. 4-0.

Yes, I was born in the 60's. I was born before man walked on the moon. I was born before "Houston, we have a problem," was ever uttered in space and I took my first breath sometime in the middle of the Vietnam War. I was born before Sesame Street ever hit the airwaves, before Dave Thomas opened his first Wendy's... before Woodstock. The Beatles were still a group.

One of my first vivid memories is of Richard Nixon on tv. We had thick, olive green shag carpet that not only had to be vacuumed, it had to be RAKED. I remember sitting there on the floor with my brother, watching the President speak.

When I think of all the technological advances that have taken place in my lifetime, I laugh. I took a typing class on a typewriter and had to make corrections with liquid paper and chalky white strips and learned layout and design the old fashioned way. I developed FILM from my camera in a darkroom and edited the pictures with chemicals and cotton swabs. So many things that kids take for granted now... and I'm certain there are things I take for granted that my parents and grandparents once gazed at in awe.

AND I WALKED UPHILL TO SCHOOL... BOTH WAYS...IN TEN FEET OF SNOW IN SUBZERO TEMPERATURES.

My life has been a series of baby steps and giant leaps forward. How far I've come. How far I have to go. While leaps are exhilerating and gratifying, it's the baby steps that seem to have covered the most ground in my life.

When I watch babies take those first awkward, off-balance steps, I am reminded of how determined they are to take those steps and the chubby baby hand clapping and drooling five tooth grins that follow the accomplishment as if to say, "Look at me! See what I did! Let's celebrate!"

Two baby steps forward... and then, after that first triumph comes another big fall, cut chin, bruised eye, and screaming or tears. Then the baby gets up...and tries again and is soon running and grinning as if to say, "look at me now!"

I now stare 40 in the face and I'm still taking baby steps. Yes, I also run, leap, skip and jump, but most of the time, I face life one tiny, awkward off-balance step at a time. I can't imagine what my life would be like if, on my journey to a healthy life, I decided to stay on floor after tripping over one of my toys or an object someone who was supposed to know better left behind in their wake. If I'd given up going forward after a setback, I'd still be miserable and unhealthy and on a much quicker path to being aged and miserable rather than aging gracefully.

I have arrived at this milestone as a photonegative of the person I once was, but I am not finished, nowhere near the finish line. My prayer is, as I enter my forties, is to be braver and maybe take more leaps than baby steps. I feel like I'm so far behind, having just cleared the fog and realized there is a small mountain to climb, when so many have already ascended so much higher and moved on to cliff-diving or climbing Everest. For them, just one more challenge to conquer, one more "Look at me! See what I did! Let's celebrate!"

I did start the ascent this year:

I'd just like not to have the bottom fall out of my stomach when I look down, but at least I know what that feels like...a baby step. I still have so far to go.

I've heard it said forty is the new thirty. I don't think I'll look back, though, and try to reclaim that time of my life. The thirty-somethings can keep their decade. For someone who has had to fight as hard as I have to survive, I will wear forty as a badge of honor.

While hope anchors me, courage must pull me onward, stretching me farther than I ever believed possible. I will be able to take bigger steps that way and not pull so many muscles when I leap... awkwardly.

Welcome, forty. Look at me now!