RRRAAAAWWWRRRR

Today is a crap day. I started back to school recently. We planned and planned and planned some more so I would be able to go. But, life happens. Daycare fell through. Now I'm having to figure out a way to keep going to school, afford daycare, and go to school...and the hits keep coming. It's been one thing after another for the last couple of months.

I feel so...heavy. Like I am full of disappointment.

I knew going back to school was going to be an adventure. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I figured we would run into road blocks. I just didn't think it would literally come down to, quit school and go back to work, or sell my kidney so I can pay for daycare.

Okay so I don't really have to sell my kidney. That was a little dramatic. But it is how I feel right now.  I have been desperate to go to college for a few years. So I had high hopes for this to work out. And I guess it can. But I'm just not seeing how, unless I transfer to a different school and change my major.

There is an upside to transferring though. I could do business, and go to OSU. Then I could finally tell my OU graduate brother to shove it. That would be hilarious. *side note: My family is divided between OU/OSU. I am a Poke through and through!*

But business? Ugh. I REALLY wanted to do surgical technology. I have dreams at night about finishing this program and going on to medical school. Being a surgeon sounds like heaven. Instant gratification when you save a life, a constantly shifting work environment. I would never get bored. It would be like one giant science experiment for the rest of my life.

But sometimes you can't do what your heart wants you to do. Sometimes you have to buckle down and do what is best for your family.

So. Business in the fall, it is. I guess on the plus side, if I get the opportunity, I can always start over and try to get in to OSU's medical school. And I probably would have a hand full of Gen Eds out of the way. That's a good thing. No repeating comp or algebra!

Hmm. I guess there is a positive in this.

I was thinking of you today.


It's your birthday.
A week before mine.
It's almost spring.
Your favorite season.
The weather has been decent.
For Oklahoma, anyway.
Can you believe how fast time is going?
I know I can't.
I miss you.

It's been almost a year.
So much has changed.

My hair is longer now.
Aren't you surprised?
You know I've always preferred short and sassy.
The baby isn't a baby anymore.
She's almost two!
She's a free spirit.
She gets it from you.

I am doing fine.
And school starts soon.

But I can't seem to get past,
that I miss you.

Two weeks from now,
fills with me dread.

I replay all of our memories.
I listen to your favorite songs.
I remember the last words you spoke to me.
I wish I could hear your voice.
I think of your stories you told all the time.

If you were still here,
I'd come home today.
You'd half shout "HEY! Whatareyadoin'?" just like that, as came through the door.
You'd see RJ and start in "How's my baby? Come see Grandpa!".
You would be so disappointed in the stance of our world.
And you would complain, comically, about something or another of unimportance.
You'd ask for a swig of my Red Bull and make a sour face.
And then get on to me for drinking such disgusting things.
You would rub your face with your hands that were more like paws.
And probably say something like "ooohhhbooyyy" to no one in particular.

I bet if you were here,
We'd be eating chocolate ice cream with chocolate cake today.
Maybe we'd even go to Sonic.
Chili cheese dog with mustard, tots, and a diet coke for you.
When it was time for me to leave,
You'd probably find 5 million things for me to do before I left.
You'd just keeping talking about anything.
I would feel so bad that I couldn't just stay there with you.
You'd say "Be careful going home, and don't take any wooden nickels now.".

Do you remember the last time we ate chocolate ice cream together?
It was obvious you were trying to relive a few old memories.
Do you remember the last words you said to me?
"Don't get old Alex. It isn't worth it."
Mom thought you were rambling.
You weren't.
It was a conversation we had had not long before that.
Do you remember there very last time you held my hand?
I was in labor. You came to see me.
I remember how you turned your head and took a deep breath,
When I told you goodbye for the last time.
You died right after that.
You were waiting for me to say I'd be okay.
So I told you I would be.
I lied.
I'm not okay.
You "didn't want to leave the party".
And I didn't want you to go.
I feel like a broken hearted little girl.
You're the only person who ever loved me.
You're the only person who was ever proud of me.
And I miss you so much.

I'm sorry to ruin your birthday with my tears.
It should be a happy day.
You'd be 82!
You lived such a long life.
I know you were thankful for every day you had.
I'm thankful for those days too.

I guess it's time to go now.
I love you so much.

Sweater Weather and Soul Aches.

Lately the weather has been dark, rainy, and cool. Days like this, at this time of year, bring out the worst in me. But the last couple of weeks have been more challenging than ever. The shift in the light and season means we are nearing the first Thanksgiving and Christmas I will have to spend without my grandfather. It reminds me of a time when I lived in the bedroom next to his, the event that caused me to move in with him, and the many year long spiritual journey I began. I have been reliving so many emotions and memories. It is making my soul ache.

It is a feeling much different from heartache, yet they are one in the same. When your soul cries out, it rattles your entire being. Your very foundation begins to crack. You shake and blow in the wind The rain pelts your skin harder than it ever has before. Eventually the storm settles. But before it does, you to start to question everything you've known to be fact, believed, and thought. Your grief is all consuming. But somehow you find a way to place one foot in front of the other and continue on.

In a word, it is strange.

I feel guilt as well. At a point in time, why didn't I take more control over my life? Why should I be wracked with grief now, when I am so blessed? When I am able to care for my child in our home full time, why should I hurt so? Am I just being selfish? Or do most people go through this period in their lives?

Many times in the day I find my mind wandering back to the day that lead to living with my grandfather. That memory does not hurt anymore. But the feelings and thoughts I had after that day, when I remember them, it is like I am having to shovel through all of that again. I was so alone, confused, and heartbroken. It was a very dark time in my life. I took that time with Grandpa and my self exploration for granted.

That time my was my rock bottom. So I climbed up and worked on myself. I am still diligently climbing and working. This is work that will never be finished, I know.

Those dark days lessened and lead into a warm spring. Four years later that same type of warm spring ended before it even began, and my world grew a little darker. Grandpa died, and now here I am. I am questioning if I had ever truly healed, if I had made any tangible progress, or if time, people walking in and out of my life, and the birth of a beautiful daughter distracted me and masked my struggle. Now, am I building on to my personal hell by drudging up all of these old feelings? How am I supposed to navigate this holiday season without the man who helped me push through before? Am I just hurting myself more by constantly reminding myself that Grandpa is gone? Why am I feeling and remembering so many horrific things, when I should be over that and working towards ending my grieving period over Grandpa's passing?

I have so many questions locked away. I need answers. But this moment in time, this soul aching, it is not that simple. These questions do not have answers. Sometimes we reach an area in our path that "just is". It just exists. It changes what is and what will be and what was. But it is nothing necessarily profound. Not everything happens for one distinct reason. Often times there are many reasons.

I am finding this time in my life is less dark than it is a shade of grey. A transition period, I would assume. But it is difficult, nonetheless. It almost appears that my soul is trying to purge itself of all the baggage I have carried around. As if it is trying to start fresh after suffering such a great loss. And though I struggle, I know I will come out on the other side of this. I have no other option but to go on. Life does not stop here. I have so many things to live for. So many blessings to count. So much of my story is still yet to be written.

So this grey, this in between, maybe it is this way because I know I am moving on. Because I have the answers I am searching for somewhere in my heart. Maybe it is that my grandfather's passing severs all the ties to that period in my life. If any or all of these thoughts are the case, then I know, soon I will be able to start again. To open my eyes to blank pages to fill. To continue on.

9/11

About this time of day 14 years ago, I sat at a desk in Mrs. Holt's 5th grade class. I believe we were working on some reading assignment. It was peaceful in there. Cold, like always, but quiet. A typical day in Mayes County.

But then something happened. One of my classmates came hustling down the hall. We could hear him running. We just assumed he was playing around. When he flung that classroom door open, all color drained from his face despite running across the elementary campus, we knew something wasn't right.

Just a few years early we had a gun threat come across our school. They locked us down in the middle of a lower elementary presentation. A class that held maybe 20 kids on a bad day, was packed wall to wall. Our entire grade was in that class room. The teachers did their very best to pretend like nothing was happening. But we all knew.

And the same was true for this day as well. We all knew what was about to come out of his mouth. My desk was in the front row, closest to the door. So I had a good view of what happened next.

Time stopped. Mrs. Holt stood up from her desk in slow motion. She grabbed her keys. The noise they made in her hand was louder than any deafening silence I have experienced since. She started towards the door. One step. Two. Three. And then the boy shouted "There's been some kind of bombing.".

The room shook with fear. She halted. He just stood there, in the doorway. The teacher staring him blankly in face. It felt like years passed before he explained what he had heard, and where he heard it.

And then, as if nothing happened, the day went back to normal. We continued learning. We ate lunch. We played in the grass during recess. But every adult or older child had worry behind their eyes. When I got home, I am certain my mother explained the day's events as best as she could. But a terrorist attack is not something my young mind could really grasp. Which is strange, for a person living in a state bombed by our own people.

Days and months passed. The radio blasted many amazing patriotic songs. We wore God Bless America shirts more often. The TV showed images of the rubble, of families ripped apart by grief, of workers in rescue and recovery efforts. And my mind still did not understand what 9/11 truly meant to our America.

Flash forward a hand full of years, I stood in an American cemetery, on foreign soil. And it hit me. I looked out over this beautiful resting place for so many who gave their lives to the cause during a World War, and I understood what had happened back home.

Our great nation was threatened. Innocent lives were lost in so many ways. Patriotism burned brightly in the hearts of our citizens. We went to war. We would forgive, maybe, but we would never forget the trespasses against our people.

Today, though it is somber, and the soul of each citizen heavy, it is a beautiful day. We are here in our great nation. We are free. And we will never forget.

Good Morning.

The sun has yet to peak through the trees, but my alarm still sounds. The patterning of little feet against a crib wall, and the snorts and snuffs of a guard dog entertaining his charge wake me from my slumber. A smile spreads across my face. It is a good morning.

Off to the kitchen in a bleary eyed shuffle. A breakfast of pancakes and coffee to be made. Cheerful, toothy grins, tiny hands clapping, and grunts of appreciation fill the room with warmth and love. It is a good morning.

The sun greets us through the bay window. He is behind, as the day has already begun. But we still thank the Lord for the sun's appearance, for the blessings our day will bring. It is a good morning.

I'm Becoming A Foodie...

Yep, that's right. I'm becoming a foodie. My waistline is not okay with this. Lately I've been whipping up all kinds of delicious dinners and lunches because I discovered Ree Drummond. Darn her. Why does she have to be so inspirational and relate-able?!

Anywho, like I was saying, I've been cooking a lot. Yesterday I made a strawberry cobbler, and a lasagna. The cobbler was whatever is less than sub par, but my lasagna was totes amazeballs. So I thought I'd share what I did. I didn't really follow any recipe or direction, and I had never made one before. But I had a general idea of what to do. I mean if you eat a lasagna once, you kind of instinctually know how to make it.

Is instinctually a word? It is now.

Sorry I don't have any pictures. I have no idea how to add them to my blog. Which is embarrassing, but eventually I'll get around to figuring the mechanics of this the host out. I am really ramble-y today...too much coffee...

So, anyway, here's what I did:

I browned two pounds of hamburger meat (we like super meaty sauce), making sure to get it chopped up in to teeny tiny clumps, and threw in some Italian seasoning while it was in the skillet. Once done, I drained it, slightly rinsed it, and lightly seasoned the meat. Then I tossed it in a bowl with one 26oz container of plain old red pasta sauce.

I then mixed about half of a 30oz container of ricotta cheese with about a fourth of a cup of parmesan and roughly a cup mozzarella, and two eggs. I just used pre-grated Walmart brand cheese, but freshly grated would be fun. I mixed/whipped that with a whisk until well combined.

Next I layered like a cup and a fourth or so of meat sauce on the bottom of a Pyrex dish (I don't really know how big it is. So use your best judgement on how big of a pan you need.). I dropped in enough pasta to cover the meat sauce as completely as possible, and evenly covered that with the ricotta mixture, not necessarily in a thin layer, but it wasn't really thick either. Then I repeated the process one more time with the meat sauce first, then pasta, then cheese.

At then end I slopped on some more meat sauce and drowned that with what cheese mix was left, covered the dish tightly with a double layer of foil, and threw it in a 350 F oven for about an hour. Just until the whole thing was fork tinder.

Now that I've tasted the fruits of my kitchen labor, I would probably add the other half of that ricotta to my meat sauce. We love cheese in my house, and the meat just seemed to be lacking. And to make your life much easier, I suggest using oven ready pasta. That's what I did. Because I don't have a pot big enough to boil the stuff in.

Now that I've shared my 'Sagna guidlines with you, I think I'll go enjoy some left overs. I'm hungry, and there is a ton left to eat!

The Bathroom Sink.

Recently I discovered a few lines of a song that truly spoke to me. While it is not an uncommon occurrence for a song to touch my heart, this one in particular made me question myself and my relationships. We all know music evokes emotions and memories. But should a handle full of words make you question your life?

"It's amazin', the amount of rejection
That I see in my reflection
And I can't get out of the way
I'm lookin' forward to the girl I wanna be
But regret has got a way of starin' me right in the face
So I try not to waste too much time
At the bathroom sink."

Powerful stuff, huh?

Sounds like she wants a change. She hates the world she lives in, yet fears what regret might follow if she were to give it all up and start fresh.

There must be something or someone toxic in her life?

So why and how am I moved in such a way, by this small phrase?

I don't want to lay blame, so I won't. But I will say there were, and are a few toxic people who I let poison my life. And for what? So I can stare at myself in the mirror some more and think about how awful of a person I am, because they said so?

There have been many days I have wished I could just cut ties without regret or messy endings, but that is not how life works, most of the time. We let people into our hearts, sometimes they make a wonderful impact on our lives, sometimes they slowly destroy our sense of self. Sometimes they are the ones who are closest to you, and sometimes they are people you hardly know.

These lyrics really hit me in the gut. And this is just my take based on the song in its entirety. The song is "Bathroom Sink"-Miranda Lambert, incase you're interested in giving it a listen. Maybe you'll listen to the song and hear a different story, maybe not. But my point is, at the end of the day we all have some venomous entity in our lives that must be squelched or claimed a necessary evil. It is not always easy to see what it is. So be mindful of what and who you let in, and what or who you cut out.