2015 is Here!

There is a song that I can't get enough of lately.  It's not a particularly new song; it's "I Lived," by OneRepublic.  Seems like every time I get into the car, that song is playing.  It feels like it is speaking right to me.  

Hope when you take that jump
You don't fear the fall
Hope when the water rises
You build a wall

Hope when the crowd screams out
They're screaming your name
Hope if everybody runs
You choose to stay

Hope that you fall in love
And it hurts so bad
The only way you can know
Is give it all you have

And I hope that you don't suffer
But take the pain
Hope when the moment comes
You'll say...

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

Hope that you spend your days
But they all add up
And when that sun goes down
Hope you raise your cup

I wish that I could witness
All your joy and all your pain
But until my moment comes
I'll say...

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

I, I did it all
I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived.

Over the last 10 or so years, the fact that we are mortal has been driven home to me time and time again.  I know you are tired of hearing me talk about how short life is, but I consider it every day.  There are people that I miss every single day, but I take solace in the fact that I believe they are in a perfect place "carrying on."  I'm not one of those people that thinks those in Heaven look down on us and wish they were here.  I believe that they are busy living life eternally, even though as a human being here on earth, I will never know what that means.  

The song reminds me to live life fully.  Dream big.  I'm middle-aged, and I realize I am not promised tomorrow.  As of late, my life has almost completed a 180.  I am working more than ever, and I love it -- everyday is different, and I just can't get enough.  Unrelated to work, in a couple of weeks, I will be leaving on a medical mission trip in the Philippines.  It is the second annual one for me.  I go with a group of physicians and nurses based in Kansas City, but I am not the only person from another part of the nation that joins them.  Last year I ate tons of white rice and went to Mass more times than I ever have in my life... due to the fact that I am not Catholic.  Chief will hold down the fort here.  Someday I will convince him to go.  He would be such an asset to the group.  You know, the guy who can fix anything and can easily come up with a solution to a problem that seems insolvable.

And who knows what the rest of the year will hold...?

2015 is Here!

I'm still here!

I need to thank you.  Thank you for looking for my blog.  Thank you for letting me know you miss it.  

It is just a chaotic and fun time to be Lily, and hopefully, I can get back here and post something fun.  

Cheers!

I'm still here!

Rural-ness

It's probably no secret that we live in a rural area.  When I say rural, I mean RURAL.  It is nothing to drive two hours to a larger city (still not that large) for one thing or another.  It doesn't take much more effort to drive 5-6 hours for a meeting, a class, or to see family.  We are used to it.  Sometimes when I arrive at a destination so far from home, people just can't even believe that I have traveled such a distance.  

Good grief, when you grow up doing something like driving long distances, you kind of get used to it.  In high school, we traveled hours and hours a week to sporting, band and other events.  We went to college several hours away.  When we came back, we lived almost a 30 minute drive to the country.  

So, over my lifetime, it is safe to say I have spent a lot of time in the car.  

When you have the opportunity to do a lot of driving, you learn things.  You learn patterns of other drivers.  You learn where the speed traps are.  You know the speed limits in specific places.  You know when a passing lane is coming up.  Yeah.  Maybe I get a bit cocky sometimes.  I may or may not know where the wide open, flat spaces are.  I may or may not have tried to "air it out" a little.  Here's the deal.  I am aware of my surroundings.  I feel confident that I would never put myself or anyone else in danger.  So.... both hands on the wheel, I may or may not have exceeded the speed limit by 4-5 miles per hour the other day.  Or something like that.  Who knows if my speedometer is properly calibrated?  While I was driving, I was passed by two vehicles that absolutely blew right by me.  I kept going at the same speed, and I'll be darned if I came up behind a highway patrolman (did I mention, this was in another state?), and I instinctively looked at my speed.  I was probably 300 YARDS (way far) behind him when I could tell what he was.  

Right.  So I discovered I was going about 2 miles per hour over, and this officer was going maybe 35 in the right lane of a split four lane highway.  I continued at what my vehicle said was 2 miles per hour over, used my blinker, obeyed every rule I knew, and as I am passing him, he flips on the lights, and it was not a suggestion to please check your speed.  Immediately, I pull over.  Trying to think of every rule I know, I reach for nothing, roll down my window, take off my sunglasses, and place both hands up high on the steering wheel.  Watching him approach in the rear view mirror, I have already decided, this guy is bored.  I must look really threatening because he is slowly approaching and looking all around.  He has nothing better to do than to pull over a grandmother from out of state and tell her that ever so slightly exceeding the speed limit is unacceptable.  I may or may not have had time for this.  Quite possibly, I had a doctor appointment, was somewhat irritable and in pain (dang teeth and gums), had no interest in chatting, and now I am sitting on the side of the road for going 2 (TWO!) miles an hour over the speed limit.  He told me he stopped me for speed.  I verified the 2 mph over by asking him how fast I was going.  Whatever.  I give him everything he asks for -- drivers license, insurance ... and I am thinking, "go ahead -- call that in, and see what a threat I am to society."  (My attitude definitely suffers when I am in pain.)  But the actress in me totally comes out, and my best "yes, sir" and "no, sir" are on display.  Seriously.  I can't ever remember getting a speeding ticket.  I don't think I ever have.  And I thanked him for not giving me one that day.

And here is where I circle back and tell you about how living in a rural area pertains to this.  There isn't a lot of traffic.  You may or may not have to break a big rule to get the opportunity to visit with a law enforcement officer.  The weather plays a factor.  It doesn't rain around here very often, but if it is raining, you probably won't be stopped.  If the wind is blowing 50 mph, maybe not.

But living way out west has its advantages.  We live near a local airport, and I am notorious for hearing different planes coming and going.  I run to the window or outside, and people always make fun of me.  We have the greatest sunsets.  The people are beyond the best anywhere.  It's generally pretty quiet.  It takes as long to get to the East coast as it does the West coast.  And when you travel, you can listen to an audiobook (or two) wherever you go.  Trying to keep it positive!

Rural-ness

And here's something positive...

My mouth is still mad.  But I have been able to be quiet and not do a lot of talking today,  Win for everyone!

And on a happy note, I FOUND MY PASSPORT!!!!! 

I.  FOUND.  MY.  PASSPORT!!!!!!

I

FOUND

MY 

PASSPORT !

It has been missing for about 8 months.  I kept thinking it was going to show up.  I kept thinking, "it's around here, somewhere."  I had just started to go through the motions of obtaining a replacement passport.  Luckily, I hadn't made it very far.  Makes me want to turn on some Pharrell Williams and do the "Happy" dance.

That's all I got, kids.

(I found my passport.)

And here's something positive...

Negativity ahead.....

I never would have thought I would have done it.  Sure would have never thought I would tell anyone if I did.  But it really happened.  I ate one of these with a fork and a knife.
*eyeroll*

I haven't had a big candy bar, that I can recall, in something like.... years.  It's just not something I crave.   I like them fine, but I can happily do without.  (Now a daily Coke, 

I must have.)  But today, I had to have this candy bar.  There was one in my refrigerator, and I had to have it.  At least part of it. 

I think I have mentioned before about my dental doctor visits and appliances that I have had in my life up to now.  You know, I have had braces (two kinds,) a headgear, a painful tongue trap (because I swallow backwards), I took swallowing lessons, (they didn't work - I still swallow backwards), retainers, four wisdom teeth cut out, a subepithelial gum graft on my front lowers because my gums there were receding (at the ripe old age of 17,) root canals,

 and yesterday, the mother of all procedures I've had.  

A subcutaneal acellular dermal matrix graft.  Here's the awesome part.  *sarcasm*  They use donated, medically processed, human skin tissue for the graft.  (yes, cadaver)  Once you get over that good news, you get the details about how you can't use your front teeth to bite anything for a minimum of five weeks. 

Fine, a diet.  I'm in.

The full-blown details of the appointment were not fully disclosed to me, so I had to drag out the few tidbits of information I could get.  I asked if there would be a lot of pain, "of course not."  I asked how long it would take, "about 2.5 to 3 hours."  I asked about anesthesia... "why would you need that?"  

They told me they would "do it with a local."

We weren't 5 minutes in with the anesthetic, and when they took the equivalent of a Dremel tool to my exposed roots on my top teeth.  Not comfortable.  Not a pleasant sound.  I went prepared.  I had my iPod AND my noise-cancelling headphones.  It wasn't enough.  The deadening, or the local, kept wearing off -- I kept having to point and request more.  Silly me, I thought I should feel no sharp needle pains while sutures were going in.  Apparently, that's just being a whiner.  Now that I am north of 50, I have decided I am going to whine.  I am going to complain when someone tries to pull something over on me.  I am going to stand up for myself with strangers.  Politically correct, psssssshhh.  Polite.... only if I feel like it.  I'm the boss of me.  Don't try to push me around.

Yes, it hurts.  Yes, I'm fine.  Yes, I'm a little cranky.  I always feel like when I tell someone about something like this, I hope they can learn a little something.  Like you should never agree to a dental procedure for something like an unknown amount of hours in an office where they can't give you anything for real pain.  I hope you learn like I did, that your questions, no matter if its two or twenty, are most likely going to annoy a specialist.  But suck it up and ask them anyway.  

Negativity ahead.....

Corrections

Well, I didn't tell that story right.  Just goes to show, facts can be represented correctly or incorrectly.  I represented the Tarantula story like it happened the other day.  I stand corrected.  Apparently, this was over two years ago.  I'm losing it, I guess.  The memory is still pretty vivid.

Photo courtesy  -  www.swiftinverts.com

While I'm coming clean, let's talk snakes.  Chief and I lived in the country for about 15 years.  We lived in a couple of antique houses that had been renovated, added onto, and had porches closed in to make the homes larger.  After all those updates, certain openings may have been created by chipping away at  the foundation, new cracks may have formed, a variety of different things could have happened.  Before we ever moved in, we knew there was the possibility of varmints getting inside.  

Let's just say it doesn't take a city girl, and I use that term loosely, very long at all to figure out how to get a handle on mice, spiders and snakes.  Oh, yes, the snakes.  Just walking from the house to the car, you had to look down as you walked.  I don't know how many times I almost, or actually did, step on a snake.  Yes, some were rattlesnakes, and those are the most dangerous snakes we have in our area.  I was easily spookable at first, but I suppose I have built up a tolerance.  I have reached a level of okay-ness with them all.  After all, the weirdest things can happen, and you never know when they will.

We pulled several snakes, okay something more than 60, out of the basement of that first ranch house.  With the addition of central heat and air, the foundation had to be broken through in a few places under the house to make room for the ducting.  Apparently................... snakes began to sneak down under the house, into the foundation area.  It was cool and dark there.  Great place to winter if you are a snake.  Or possibly live year round...?  

Chief knew he had seen a snake or two down there.  He sealed the door to the room that had the air conditioning and heating equipment in it.  Then there was another door that completely sealed off the stairs and whole basement from the floor level of the house.  I felt pretty secure.  Additionally, those snakes must have been helping keep the mouse population down, because I only recall a few in 15 years.  But one day he was working on the hot water heater down there, and he had a flashlight.  As he was leaving the room, he decided to point the light back up under the tiny crawl space created by the running of the "new" heat and air conditioning ducts.  When he did, he saw eyes.  Yellow eyes.  Tiny yellow eyes, and a whole lot of them.  He was pretty calm when he came upstairs and said, "Come with me downstairs, I want to show you something."  Since I had only graced the basement with my presence a few times, and it never ended well -- I said, "Okay, hang on a minute."  I went to put on sweat pants, a hoodie and shoes with socks.  There are always spider webs, crickets, something.  

Photograph by Chris Johns -- National Geographic

When he put the flashlight up to show me the snake eyes, I think I screamed.  He calmly explained to me why screaming wasn't the best idea.  I gathered my composure, and from that moment on, I was the "Flashlight Holder."

The resourceful Chief grabbed a piece of pipe, now he tells me it was about a 5 foot telescoping pole for a volleyball net.  And of course, weed-eater string.  You know, stuff everyone could have in their basement.  The Boy Scout crafted a large loop coming out one end of the pole.  So, holding the pole with one hand, pointing the loop toward the snakes, and holding the weed-eater string firmly with the other -- we gave it a try.  Remember, I am holding the flashlight.  Chief is able to keep his distance, and within seconds, we have our first snake.  He has a firm grip on the weed-eater string after pulling it back and cinching it around the snake's head and throat area.  So he pulls it away from its buddies in the den.  It's just a racer.  Nothing venomous.  Nothing to stay awake at night over.  But there is an exit from the basement straight to the outside.  Chief knew that thing wasn't going to be walked through the house through the front door.  It didn't live.  None of the 7 snakes we pulled out that first night did.  At this point, we didn't know how many more were down there.  We got all we could, and we must have scared the others back further into the darkness, because they disappeared.

Guess what?  They were back the next night.  And the next.  And the next.  This was a spring through summer project, and seriously, we lost count after we pulled out the 60th-some-odd snake.  Yes, there were some rattlesnakes.  Not many, I would say less than five.  Hopefully, you can see how I would get used to things like this.  I didn't want to accept it as normal.  You can imagine why I am sometimes offended to be called a "city girl."  My tiny hometown is not a city.  And just because I didn't grow up milking cows and driving a tractor doesn't mean I am incapable of being a decent "farm girl."  Don't pigeon-hole me.  There are a lot of things I don't like, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of them.  In the words of Kelly Clarkson, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Corrections

My Tarantula Story

This is my tarantula story, with no pictures.  But this happened in my house in town (city limits).  Within the last year.

 

I swore I would never admit that a tarantula was inside of my house.  After all, how could that even happen?  But I feel it is time to come clean.  Honesty is always the best policy.

 

One morning this past spring, I am getting ready for the day.  My bathroom, bedroom and closet are at the far end of the house.  They are not near a door or entrance.  I look in the mirror, and behind me, on the tiffany blue wall, there is a tarantula.  It is the size of my hand.  It is about 4 feet up on the wall -- just clinging there.  I am the only one home, but I scream anyway.  I keep my eye on it, and grab my phone, while climbing up on the bathroom counter.  From eight feet away, I call Chief on the phone.  He doesn't answer.  I leave a desperate message.  I sit still on the counter.  I will not leave without one eye on this arachnid.  It feels like 30 minutes.  When he calls back, I beg of him, "I have never asked you to do this before, but I need you to come to town and deal with this tarantula in our bathroom."  He hears the fear and anxiety in my voice, and he says he is on his way.  I say, "THANK YOU!!!!!"

 

I remain on the counter, eyes glued to the tarantula on the wall.  The phone rings.  It is my friend, Mel.  I tell her I really can't talk, I am dealing with an unusual emergency.  When I tell her what is going on, she says, "a tarantula?  I love tarantulas!  Do you want me to come get it?"  I scream into the phone, "YES!"  And she is on her way.  When she arrives, she is carrying a canning jar and a flyswatter.  She strolls in, takes the flyswatter, gently encourages the tarantula into the jar like a turtle, and puts the lid on it.  I stare in awe.  I say, "what are you going to do with it?"  She says she will take it home and let it go.  
Okay, fine, bub-bye, talk to you later.

 

I have no idea how a tarantula could get into the house.  I mean, it's not like our doors stand wide open.  We don't open our windows and leave them unattended.  The best I can tell is that Chief brought in a pile of undesirable farm clothes, and this fellow was hidden amongst them.  We don't really have mice -- it's because I let those nice snakes live and inhabit my yard and neighborhood.  But there is no explanation for a tarantula sneaking into the house.  It's not like a mouse that can squeeze under a door or through a small hole.  A tarantula is large and hairy.  My guess is that they aren't very limber.  And my theory on how the tarantula got into the house is that Chief, being the considerate guy that he is, brought in a pile of clothes and boots from working cattle earlier that week, and he laid them in the garage for a few days.  If you don't know what "working cattle" is, there is a lot of stinky stuff involved.  Then he carried them into the laundry room to be washed separately from everything else.  Yes, it's that bad.

 

Then just this week, I have killed two scorpions.  Inside the house.  Throughout the past year, probably seven.
 

Call me tough.  Call me an idiot.  I am afraid varmints are everywhere.  But they are not the boss of me.  And they usually don't win.

My Tarantula Story

Time To Catch Up

I haven't felt like I could put together a complete blog post in almost 3 months, but how about I let go of trying to make it perfect and just chat?

Normally, I try not to stir up any stuff by talking politics.  It's not my thing.  I will never run for office, and I don't have the answers, so my stance is silence.  But a couple of months ago, a political person, I guess that's what you would call her, took a shot at soccer.  Whaaaaat?  Was it a slow news day or something?  I'm going to put the link to the whole article here.  

http://www.anncoulter.com/columns/2014-06-25.html

You can read it yourself and draw your own conclusions.  Clearly, she isn't soccer-savvy.  I consider it just wrong to tell people a bunch of random things that are your observations and based on nothing.

Here's the part that set me off:

--- If more "Americans" are watching soccer today, it's only because of the demographic switch effected by Teddy Kennedy's 1965 immigration law. I promise you: No American whose great-grandfather was born here is watching soccer. One can only hope that, in addition to learning English, these new Americans will drop their soccer fetish with time. ---

Wow.  She promises you.  

I watch soccer.  I watch almost all the major sports.  I watch golf.  I was born before 1965.  I had eight great-grandparents that were born here, and I WATCH and LOVE soccer.  Doubt I'm the only one.  I have Native American blood and am a card carrying tribal member, which probably means my soccer-loving heritage and relatives were here before hers were.  Puh-leez!  Learning English?  I would challenge her to any form of English language competition or flipping spelling bee.  Oh. My. Gosh.  

And lastly, "these new Americans"????    

The only reason I read the article was because it had the words 'hating soccer' in the title, and it was on a major news feed.  It was around the time of the World Cup.  I feel like some people just can't talk about anything unless it is negative.  Well, I'm not riding that train.  

I thought it was hilarious (jealousy, perhaps -- sarcasm) that she wasn't impressed with that handsome David Beckham.  You know the one who is trying to establish a MLS team in Miami?  He wants to build a ginormous stadium, (just like soccer stadiums all over the world) maybe on the waterfront, but he is flexible.  He just wants to make it happen.

We live in a nation of immigrants.  Could we possibly get along?  Could we possibly be happy for others?  Could we possibly act to improve things instead of complaining?  

So here's to being positive.  Here's to being nice.  

Here's to not wallowing in whatever you want to pout about.  

(Improper use of a preposition -- I know, CLB)  

Time To Catch Up

I. Am. Exhausted.

We lead somewhat normal lives.  Only two people live in our house.  Our days fly by, and I feel like I am going to miss out if we don't travel here and yonder before we can't.

Here are my reasons, excuses, whatever you want to call them, why I have been unable to blog for several days in a row.

1)     I am busy.

2)     I try to relax in the evenings, but if anyone of us needs clothes, as in the clean variety, things have to be done.

3)     I've been working on a Fantasy Football league for rookies.  OMGoodness.  I know a little something about football, but this is a whole new animal.

4)     Personal upkeep.  A girl needs to have her hair done from time to time.  She might need a pedicure.  She might have a doctor's appointment.  Just regular stuff.

5)     School.  You'll never believe it.  I can barely believe it.  I am taking Legal Assistant classes at one of the finest LA programs in the country.  It will take a lot of Saturdays.

This includes homework, not a minimal amount.  No need for a lot of details here.  I'm totally buying in...

 Lots of fun things going on here.  I'll clue you in as things develop.
Looking forward to a mountain retreat soon.  

Hope it's not 102 in Denver, as it has been lately.

I. Am. Exhausted.

She is Perfect

I get asked a lot about my relatively new role as "Lily," the grandparent.  I am still having a hard time putting strong and accurate enough words with my answers to all the questions.  Writing this blog, I find myself trying to make sure that I am relatable.  I am fully aware that I am not the first grandmother EVER.  Just like I wasn't the first mother EVER.  Conversely, do I love my kids more than anything?  Sure do.  Do I believe that this precious Baby O is the most darling baby girl ever born?  Dang right!  

Can I get the perfect picture of her?  Not on my life.  One of those regrets I was telling you about, that I never have my camera, requires me to use my phone.  And the fact is, I am not all that great using the camera on it.  She is not a wild or busy child.  You really don't realize she moves much until you try to take a picture.  Every picture I have is somewhat blurry.  

Or I didn't remove the slobber.  Or she blinks.  

Surely it isn't me moving while I take the picture...

She is far from a cranky baby.  But she makes funny expressions, and we would love to know what she is thinking...  This punkin is a great sleeper at the moment.  I would love to tell you how many hours she sleeps in a row at night.  Would it be polite to say that there are two digits in the number of hours she sleeps?  Or is that bragging?

Gosh, she is such a little dumplin.  I can honestly tell you that I had no idea what fun this new role would be.  We haven't been able to spend as many hours as we would like with her due to "life" -- but we are so fortunate that she lives within 20 or so minutes from our house. 

Back to being relatable.  I want to talk about how I understand how others feel about their grandchildren.  I never want to make anyone think we love ours more than they love theirs.  It's just that "we get it."  As our kids were growing up, I always tried to not brag.  Not to say I didn't, but I tried to be aware, and the goal was to be polite.  This is where I just want to quit writing, because I know I can't express what I really want to say.  I think all human beings are equal.  We are no better than the people that will never read this because they don't have access to a computer.  I never, ever want to hurt anyone's feelings.  But I do love my family, just like I hope you love yours.  

We are blessed.

She is Perfect

My Disneyland....

I teased so many people into the blog yesterday by pretending that I was going to reveal my life's biggest regrets...  Sorry.  I won't very often go deep here on the blog.  Kinda depends...

Looking through pictures today, I found my happy place.  Happiest place on earth.  

My Disneyland.

Maui, Hawaii.  Why we can relax there like nowhere else, I can't explain.  But I am not headed there any time soon, and I kind of regret that.  Well, maybe I am not too unhappy we didn't have plans to go in the next month or so...  we hope the hurricanes headed that direction are not as serious as expected.  You know, I've been in the weather business long enough to see more wrong forecasts than right ones.  

One day I was on the phone with a person at American Airlines, and I told them that.  This was when I was trying to tell them that my flight was cancelled, and they said it wasn't.  I had this super cool weather app that also gives flight information.  It told me the flight was cancelled 3 hours before the airline admitted it.  By them stalling, I was unable to make my next connection, and the travel tumbling began.  Lucky for me, I like to travel so much, hiccups like that are nothing new.  It never fails that you see someone yelling at the gate agent about how they "are never going to fly XYZ Airlines again!"  The same thing always comes to mind, and someday I am actually going to say it to the screamer.  "Hey, when you find the perfect airline with perfect people, perfect planes, and that can control the weather, please let me know."  *sarcasm*  I can't help it.  

Calmly, I want to say, "People, people...... Flexibility....... Thank you."

The landscape kind of reminds me of home.  Well, not the green part.  

Nor the mountainous part.

Okay... the next picture is me being silly.  I hope it is perceived as such.  I am wearing a swimsuit.  I am on the beach.  Listening to my iPod, sometimes I break into song.  Other times, I even move like I am dancing.  This photo is untouched.  It shows that I truly do not have abs of steel.  Clearly, this is not a selfie.  

Pretty sure I was showing my "moves like Jagger."

Thank you, Lord, that my knees are together.  Otherwise, there would have been no picture posted at all.  I fully expect some boy from high school to comment on my most famous body parts -- my thumbs and my toes.  I was an anomaly.

Time to let the sun set on this mini vacay.  I hope the Hawaiians stay safe, and I hope that the weathermen are wrong -- again.

My Disneyland....

Regrets.....

After getting a call from a travel magazine in Indianapolis a few weeks ago, I thought I would just take my camera (my good one) and hit the open road.  They are publishing one of my pics from the European Christmas markets we visited last year.  It's really amazing the comments, responses and funny things that happen to you when you blog about random things.  I didn't make it very far.  Life got in the way, and I found myself back in my house with not many photography subjects.

When I have quiet moments in my day, or when I am driving down the road, I tend to let my mind wander.  Today I got to thinking about some regrets I have.  Nothing big and serious, in fact, several funny things crossed my thoughts.  I wish I had continued playing the piano.  That's probably on a lot of people's lists.  I wish I hadn't been so afraid when I was younger.  Afraid of failure, afraid of grouchy adults, afraid of the unknown... I remember being fearful about things that don't even cross my mind now.  I always regret not having my camera with me.  When I do grab one of them, the battery is dead.  My phone is not the best camera.  But it sounds like approximately September 19th, that could all change.  Let's see what Apple says on September 9th.    :)

And I am craving Mexican food.  Really delicious, authentic Mexican food.  Specific things that are not available here.  I keep begging Chief to take me to New Mexico and feed me.  That's all.  Here's what I want. 

That's right.  Here's where you get it.  And I think I am available next week.

I just don't want to miss anything.  For nearly 10 years now, I have been in this "life is short" mode -- and I think we need to go and do everything before it is too late.  Right now, we are healthy enough to travel easily.  We can sit in airplane seats for long periods of time.  We can drive anywhere.  We can walk long distances.  We like to golf, but we rarely make time for it.  We don't have to worry about getting too far away from our doctors.  We have energy.  I don't limp, and I don't have any back problems.  We should roll.  Soon.

Other than the fact that next week is "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel, there's not much to look forward to on television.

I did pass on both Sharknado and Sharknado 2, but I have to admit, I am a little curious.

Regrets.....

My favorites...

I enjoy taking pictures.  Not that I always have my camera with me, sometimes my phone has to do.  But I wanted to share some of my favorite things today.  

Or at least photographs of them...

Quite possibly the cutest puppy ever, I love my Clare.  She is so sweet natured.

Santa Fe.  I love everything about it.  It's not far from home.  I can eat Mexican food 3 times a day if I want.  It is beautiful and has pleasant weather almost any time of year.  

I don't mind going by myself because I feel so safe.

Thunder Basketball.  Watching in person or on television, I'm really not that picky.  

I love this team and what they represent.

Well, here's a view I can't get enough of seeing.  Every part of this kind of travel has become exciting to me.  I still like to drive, but I love the speed that flying offers.

One of the teams I follow.  You know I can watch anything.  Yes, even golf.

Under no circumstances do I consider myself a foodie, but when I order this dessert, most people ask me what it is.  Oh my, I love me a good profiterole.  LOVE.  THEM.

My favorites...

4th of July continues...

So the 4th of July pictures continue to roll in...  Our oldest son put himself in charge of recreation and entertainment.  Therefore, we had remote control airplanes to throw water balloons at, and cars for the dogs to chase until they had to jump in the baby pool to cool off.  He even ordered big, new slingshots to fire the water balloons at the plane that he was willing to crash.  

Apparently, he needed some assistance decorating the plain white plane, after naming her 'Merica.  I am always kept in check by my kids who constantly teach me about pop culture things, and 'Merica was the word of the month.  May have had something to do with the World Cup?  Anyway, being the hip mom and Lily that I am, I bought in to the idea that 'Merica was in no way a desecration of the word, America.  

It was just the word of the moment.

Yes, it took three men to effectively shoot the small water balloons at the flying target.

Yes, clearly, someone could have been hurt.  Raising boys, the concept of someone being hurt is fairly familiar to me.  It happens.

Usually, it is the biggest boy, Chief, that comes home with the injuries.  It's nothing for him to walk in the door of an evening, dripping blood dried up on his head, and say, "what?"  Me, being Wife of the Year -- I typically look at the floor and try not to laugh where he can hear me.  He seriously has no idea that 6 hours ago when he was under that tractor and bumped his head, it drew blood, ran down his face, dried up, and he never even knew.  He's not complaining, so why should I?

Girls can play.  Even ones that are dressed cute and not laying on the pavement.

Here is oldest son, showing the neighbors about the cool device that fills and blows up water balloons, even tying them.  But that is before he pulls out the dangerous gases, and big pieces of PVC pipe to shoot his best potato gun.  Yes, he has more than one, but this one shoots the farthest.  Being that we live where there is no danger of a potato hitting anyone as long as it is fired somewhat north, I turn the other way and hope for the best.  It's one of those deals where I let Chief shut it down if need be, because I want no part of it.

It's not long before younger brother finds a sack full of "old" fireworks that my brother obviously smuggled into town.  He's never seen such a treasure trove of explosives.  These pop bottle rockets have been illegal since the 80's, but my bro said he just bought them a year or two ago.  (Doubtful.)  And these are giant ones!  No, of course we didn't shoot them off.  That would be against the law.  I'm pretty sure he took them back to his home.  Far, far away from here.  Because I assure you, they were not lit.  

Here.  That I know of... on the 4th of July.

Chief turned on the Mac Davis, Charlie Rich, and Johnny Cash playlist that I prepared, but the crowd got so rowdy, that we never got the chance to sing along.  I think it was because there was too much food.  And ice cream.

I sure do love these guys.  When did they grow up and everything?  We are blessed.

4th of July continues...

Very Belated J4 Celebration Report

Oh my.  Here we are at almost the end of July, and I just found all these pictures that reminded me what we did on Independence Day.

The ideas started swirling about a year ago.  My siblings and I grew up around a group of friends that we have tried to stay close to since adolescence.  They were neighbors and friends of our parents, so we spent lots of time together back in the day.  I may have been the oldest, okay, so I was, and everyone else fell into about a 9-10 year span.  We spent hours, no kidding, hours, on the trampoline, in the swimming pools, and on skateboards.  The braver, that word doesn't seem right, maybe more reckless of the group (boys) have had stitches and scars to prove it.  You could start about 3 houses up the street, and get some real speed up, while skateboarding down the sidewalk, making a pretty sharp curve and down my folks' driveway, ending in deep green grass that made whatever stop you chose, a soft one.  My brother always tried to be the wildest.  He would end with a flip in the air, never landing on his feet, or a tuck and roll to see if he could make it a triple.  But we girls would do it, too.  We just tried to be somewhat graceful -- landing in a round-off, high toe touch jump, or maybe the splits.

Anyway, we haven't seen each other, all in one place, in forever, so we thought the Fourth of July would be a perfect opportunity.  We have some memories of previous July 4th's so long ago, mostly including explosions and near-trips to the emergency room, and last year we started planning it for this year.  We discussed songs we sang in the motor home while traveling to a camping and fishing site.  They all revolved around Mac Davis, Freddie Fender, Charlie Rich, Helen Reddy, Roger Miller, Tony Orlando and Dawn, and of course, Johnny Cash.  It was karaoke before there was karaoke.  We harmonized and everything.  J & R were the real performers.  Back in the day, they sang on stage at public events with a microphone and everything.  Oddly enough, they are not in these pictures.  But they were here.

Of course, when an event is at your house, you never get all the pictures taken that you wish you did...  so I don't have pics of everyone, but I am sharing the ones I have... 

First, that beautiful punkin, O.  Little sugar.  My sweet DIL got this picture of her in front of a flag in memory of her maternal great grandfather.  

This would be kinda cool to do every year.  :)

But she was here and looking all darling and firecracker-ish.

I just love having Baby O's mom and dad around.  They are so much fun!

And then we have Baby O's aunt and uncle, we love having them around, too!  

They just got back from grad school abroad.  Yay!

Of course, my cute and busy folks were here.  They are always in for some fun, too!  I had to crop this picture in as much as I could because there is stuff all around them that would require too much explanation.  Even then I wasn't able to crop them closer and eliminate the unusual PVC pipe behind Dad and the can of deodorant on the window sill behind them both.  It's a long story.  More later.

Unnamed person in my kitchen -- mission unknown.

My brother, playing it cool.

My precious sister-in-love and sweet niece, and my brother -- 

playing it how he really is.

Here's Charlie, one of my loving grand-puppies, celebrating like the good sport he is.

All I ask, when I have all the kids together, is for one nice picture.

It seems an impossible task.

 But I just keep the camera going, because it is always so much fun.

Eventually, I give up.  We'll try again at Christmas.

This was such a fun day, we have pictures too many to count.  I'll have to tell you more about it tomorrow.  I didn't even get to the PVC pipe and deodorant contraption.

Very Belated J4 Celebration Report

Thank you....

We have just been busy.  I'm not saying that in an, "I'm the only one" kind-of-way; 

I'm only saying it.

Everyone has had or will have a time (or a few) in their life when they are shaken to the core.  Things like, I wasn't expecting THAT to happen.  Other things like, why did THIS happen?  Fact of the matter is, I am well aware that I am not in charge.  I have no control over everything that goes on around me.  But I continue to find myself in places I never expected to be.  Things occur in life that are not even on my radar.  I know that's how it goes, but it doesn't explain anything to me.

As human beings, we aren't capable of understanding all the facts of the universe.  As human beings, it is my opinion that we have very little control of life... its quality, its length, and the curveballs we are thrown.  Sometimes what happens to you in your life is a reflection of choices that you have made.  But many times it isn't.  I take comfort in knowing that there is a good, gracious and forgiving God.  It is comforting to me to know that He loves me more than I can imagine because I have the brain and the body of a human being.  I don't have the ability to understand why things happen the way they do.  Here's the thing -- I am afraid it is easy for me to talk this way because I haven't lost a parent, a sibling, a spouse or a child.  Because I haven't experienced that kind of loss, I feel inadequate when it comes to comforting or consoling someone who has.  When it comes right down to it, no one can really console you, because a loss of any kind is going to affect everyone differently.  Sometimes there are no words.  I think it's okay to say that.  As much as people want to help you and be there for you, sometimes their attempts at comfort can hurt worse.  

I kind of keep a running list in my head of things, that are standard phrases people say, that friends have told me are not pacifying at all.

"Well, at least they're in a better place."  

   Maybe, but we are the ones here and hurting.

"I know how this must feel."  

   No you don't, you don't know the depth of this relationship.

"Time will heal, it won't hurt like this forever."  

   Really?  Then let's move on to the easy part.

These are somewhat obvious things that everyone knows deep down inside, but they really don't want to hear it over and over from people when the wound is fresh.  When I have been told these things, they feel redundant and a little condescending.  I completely believe that some wounds do not heal.  It's kind of like a scar.  It is always with you.  It may be constantly on your mind.  Maybe you want to move forward but don't know how.  This is a path that my loved ones have been walking on lately, as you know.  It is frustrating when there are no answers.  But I choose to believe that we will not get all the answers here.  The eternity we are going to hopefully all see each other in, is the only place we will ever get complete closure.  Maybe.  

There is another human-type assumption that I just made.

Now, I am not just talking about death.  I am talking about bad things that happen to all kinds of people, little children, teens, older folks, or just individuals that are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I have people in my life who have suffered, are still working on, and even overcome terrible acts of violence, awful illnesses and painful health issues.  And I have lost people very close to me.  People that I think about all the time.  I can usually hear their voices in my head saying exactly what they think.  Just because that's my visual doesn't mean that's really how it is.

I find a little bit of comfort in the fact that because I am here on earth, living and breathing, I will never fully understand why circumstances are what they are.  I am not supposed to...  I will never fully grasp the meaning of life or the circle of life.  And that's okay.  It's like that dang cloud that everyone in the tech world talks about.  I don't completely fathom how it works, but do I really need to?  I'm okay not understanding how a computer or a television operates.  As long as it functions, that's all I need.

Thanks for being patient and checking in on the blog during these last few weeks.  It has been humbling and comforting to know that people are looking for me.  Perhaps they even missed me having something to say.  Surely not...  I'm just a girl.  Living in a rural area.  With a few opinions.

Thank you....