I'm blogging from bed tonight. And from my phone, my Blackberry, my very trusted companion and lifeline to my world.
I'm back tonight from visiting "old" college friends who live in Louisville. This was a much-needed and long overdue visit, really! And honestly, I didn't want to leave. They're the kind of friends who, even though I hadn't seen them in like 1.5 or maybe 2 years, being with them was just normal and we pick up where we left off. That's a real gift.
And actually, I saw them last weekend too. :). They let me stay a night when I was driving home from my sister's baby shower in Ohio.
One thing I appreciate about them is that they like each other - and they're married! But I could totally tell that even with their ninth wedding anniversary approaching (I read the blanket, Devona!) they're still friends who joke and laugh and talk about football incessantly and say "I love you" when they hang up the phone. I was blessed being with them.
So tonight is about friends, about couples who love each other, and about peace. Because I really needed and loved the peace at their house.
Plus, I just really love their house. It's nearly 100 years old. When you walk in, you feel like you're being hugged by a century-old human being with wide baseboards, ornate trim, a parlor and a staircase with 14 stairs.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Zombiefied
I feel like a silly college student again, trying to pull an all-nighter. Only this time I'm not silly. I'm not a college student and I have a much, much older body.
But still, I (basically) was up all. night. last night. all.night.
I told the Adults that I would watch Josey and Riot so they could go to a concert. They wanted the kids to spend the night with me but I had a meeting pronto this morning that I had to get ready for. Plus, packing and getting ready for a weekend trip. So I said spending the night wasn't going to work but the kids could stay and the Adults could pick them up on their way home.
I did not know that was going to be 4 a.m.
But I should've figured.
Riot fell asleep at 10:30 like a normal human being. I started gearing Josey up for bedtime but that word means n-o-t-h-i-n-g to her and she looked at me, half-confused.
Finally, at 1:30 a.m., I caved and plugged Spongebob in. She sat in a chair in front of the TV, I laid on the couch and tried to sleep. But I couldn't -not without either my pain meds or tylenol pm and I couldn't take either since I'd have to be driving to meet the Adults for the kid-trade-off.
There's nothing worse then being in pain (OH! my legs, my knees, my calves, my hip, my back!!!), and being oh, so tired and not being able to sleep or really even rest. Because every 90 minutes (at least) she'd come get me to put in a different movie.
At one point, I (a totally chill/not violent person!) wanted to hurl the DVD player out the window when it wouldn't play like TWELVE DVDs in a row. Seriously, work with me! Not even cussing helped.
By about 1:40, I became a not-nice person. She was laying on the couch, whining, fake-coughing, telling me she missed her mom and dad and honestly, I could've cared less. I tried to refrain from telling her that. Instead, I implemented a count-down system where, by the count of three, she better dry it up or she'd "have something to cry about." I'd get to 2 and she'd say, "Okay, I'm drying my tears." (trust me, she was really fine. this is one of her manipulation tools when things aren't going her way.) Next, we did some deep breathing and that worked.
Hour upon hour of Spongebob.
At 2:30, I made her come back on the couch and lay down.
At 3, she said, "Holly, what are you doing?"
I bit back. "I'm trying to sleep, Josey. That's what normal people do at 3 in the morning."
Her dad called at 3:15, said they were about 20 minutes away from our meeting point. I packed the kids up and we were at the gas station 10 minutes early.
She was still hours away from sleep.
I got home at 4 a.m., slept till 7:10 and have been at it ever since.
I'm surprised I'm still functioning. And there hasn't been a tearful meltdown yet.
That's probably coming at some point. Soon.
But still, I (basically) was up all. night. last night. all.night.
I told the Adults that I would watch Josey and Riot so they could go to a concert. They wanted the kids to spend the night with me but I had a meeting pronto this morning that I had to get ready for. Plus, packing and getting ready for a weekend trip. So I said spending the night wasn't going to work but the kids could stay and the Adults could pick them up on their way home.
I did not know that was going to be 4 a.m.
But I should've figured.
Riot fell asleep at 10:30 like a normal human being. I started gearing Josey up for bedtime but that word means n-o-t-h-i-n-g to her and she looked at me, half-confused.
Finally, at 1:30 a.m., I caved and plugged Spongebob in. She sat in a chair in front of the TV, I laid on the couch and tried to sleep. But I couldn't -not without either my pain meds or tylenol pm and I couldn't take either since I'd have to be driving to meet the Adults for the kid-trade-off.
There's nothing worse then being in pain (OH! my legs, my knees, my calves, my hip, my back!!!), and being oh, so tired and not being able to sleep or really even rest. Because every 90 minutes (at least) she'd come get me to put in a different movie.
At one point, I (a totally chill/not violent person!) wanted to hurl the DVD player out the window when it wouldn't play like TWELVE DVDs in a row. Seriously, work with me! Not even cussing helped.
By about 1:40, I became a not-nice person. She was laying on the couch, whining, fake-coughing, telling me she missed her mom and dad and honestly, I could've cared less. I tried to refrain from telling her that. Instead, I implemented a count-down system where, by the count of three, she better dry it up or she'd "have something to cry about." I'd get to 2 and she'd say, "Okay, I'm drying my tears." (trust me, she was really fine. this is one of her manipulation tools when things aren't going her way.) Next, we did some deep breathing and that worked.
Hour upon hour of Spongebob.
At 2:30, I made her come back on the couch and lay down.
At 3, she said, "Holly, what are you doing?"
I bit back. "I'm trying to sleep, Josey. That's what normal people do at 3 in the morning."
Her dad called at 3:15, said they were about 20 minutes away from our meeting point. I packed the kids up and we were at the gas station 10 minutes early.
She was still hours away from sleep.
I got home at 4 a.m., slept till 7:10 and have been at it ever since.
I'm surprised I'm still functioning. And there hasn't been a tearful meltdown yet.
That's probably coming at some point. Soon.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
How Weed Changed My Sunday
I love weed.
Or, at least I love the way it changed my day today.
Katie and I have been looking forward to today, Sunday, since last week when she text me and said there was a church about an hour away that she wanted to check out. Of course, I said I would go with her and so we've been waiting - waiting for today to come. We almost didn't embark on our Sunday adventure due to weariness both in body and soul but I left the decision up to Katie and she said, "I think I'd regret not going."
Boy, was she right.
So we arrive at afore-mentioned church at approximately 10:20 a.m., just in time for the 10:30 service and just after the 9:45 continental breakfast, which we'd joked about attending. Another reason why Katie chose this church was because of their slogan, "Our only dress code is please do." And just before we pulled into this church's parking lot we passed another church who's slogan read, "The church you've been looking for." If we only knew how true that was.
I got out of my car at the Weed Church (as it has been dubbed by muah) and smell something burning. Me, in my pea-brain-ness though, "I wonder what the hell is wrong with my car."
Ahem. Nothing.
I went over to Katie's side where she was getting Evalyn out of her carseat and she mumbled, "Do you smell that?"
"Um, yeah," I replied, glancing at my car's hood.
"It's weed," she said, hardly containing her smile.
"Oh, you're right, it is!"
And we both breathed deeply...and rapidly...and then deeply again.
Haha!
(my mom's first comment was, "I don't want to know how you know how weed smells." I distinctly remember riding on tailgates through campgrounds and my friends trying to "point" out the smell of burning weed but I couldn't get the drift and by the time I knew what they were talking about the smell was gone and the only thing you could hear was me asking, "What?! Who's smoking pot? Where?" The other times I've been educated on the Burning Weed Smell is walking into my narcotic detective friend's office and him going, "Smell that weed?" Yeah.)
The smell at the Weed Church was not a passing whiff. It hung around and hung around and I kept looking in the car next to us and around us trying to find a happy person. None could be found.
"Do you want to leave?" I asked Katie.
No. She would rather wait until we were seated, until after the pastor had introduced himself, and the worship band was through their first song before she leaned over and whispered, "Let's go."
"Are you serious? Everyone's going to know we're gone!"
Yeah, she was serious. And I agreed.
I mean, it was terribly difficult to concentrate on anything, much less anything spiritual when all I could do was look around the room and wonder, "Who's high?"
"Instead of Where's Waldo," I whispered to Katie. "It's who's high?" Haha - okay, maybe it wasn't all that funny. :)
Katie and I have perfected our Church Escape Route.
I get an important phone call that takes me out of the service, out of the building and to my car. Katie gets worried and comes looking for me. And we're never to be seen again.
We migrated to the church next door - remember, the one with the slogan, "The church you've been looking for"? - and we sat through an amazing service with a sermon so rich and full of the power of the Holy Spirit. Wow. (I'll probably blog more about the sermon later when I've had time to digest some of it.)
And that's the story of how weed changed my Sunday - possibly, my life.
Or, at least I love the way it changed my day today.
Katie and I have been looking forward to today, Sunday, since last week when she text me and said there was a church about an hour away that she wanted to check out. Of course, I said I would go with her and so we've been waiting - waiting for today to come. We almost didn't embark on our Sunday adventure due to weariness both in body and soul but I left the decision up to Katie and she said, "I think I'd regret not going."
Boy, was she right.
So we arrive at afore-mentioned church at approximately 10:20 a.m., just in time for the 10:30 service and just after the 9:45 continental breakfast, which we'd joked about attending. Another reason why Katie chose this church was because of their slogan, "Our only dress code is please do." And just before we pulled into this church's parking lot we passed another church who's slogan read, "The church you've been looking for." If we only knew how true that was.
I got out of my car at the Weed Church (as it has been dubbed by muah) and smell something burning. Me, in my pea-brain-ness though, "I wonder what the hell is wrong with my car."
Ahem. Nothing.
I went over to Katie's side where she was getting Evalyn out of her carseat and she mumbled, "Do you smell that?"
"Um, yeah," I replied, glancing at my car's hood.
"It's weed," she said, hardly containing her smile.
"Oh, you're right, it is!"
And we both breathed deeply...and rapidly...and then deeply again.
Haha!
(my mom's first comment was, "I don't want to know how you know how weed smells." I distinctly remember riding on tailgates through campgrounds and my friends trying to "point" out the smell of burning weed but I couldn't get the drift and by the time I knew what they were talking about the smell was gone and the only thing you could hear was me asking, "What?! Who's smoking pot? Where?" The other times I've been educated on the Burning Weed Smell is walking into my narcotic detective friend's office and him going, "Smell that weed?" Yeah.)
The smell at the Weed Church was not a passing whiff. It hung around and hung around and I kept looking in the car next to us and around us trying to find a happy person. None could be found.
"Do you want to leave?" I asked Katie.
No. She would rather wait until we were seated, until after the pastor had introduced himself, and the worship band was through their first song before she leaned over and whispered, "Let's go."
"Are you serious? Everyone's going to know we're gone!"
Yeah, she was serious. And I agreed.
I mean, it was terribly difficult to concentrate on anything, much less anything spiritual when all I could do was look around the room and wonder, "Who's high?"
"Instead of Where's Waldo," I whispered to Katie. "It's who's high?" Haha - okay, maybe it wasn't all that funny. :)
Katie and I have perfected our Church Escape Route.
I get an important phone call that takes me out of the service, out of the building and to my car. Katie gets worried and comes looking for me. And we're never to be seen again.
We migrated to the church next door - remember, the one with the slogan, "The church you've been looking for"? - and we sat through an amazing service with a sermon so rich and full of the power of the Holy Spirit. Wow. (I'll probably blog more about the sermon later when I've had time to digest some of it.)
And that's the story of how weed changed my Sunday - possibly, my life.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Gulf Shores '09
So, it's a little late for spring break and this beach trip was hardly reminiscent of any Spring Break most people usually take. But still, Gulf Shores '09 it was and will always be.
Basically, I've never taken a beach vacation in the summer time. One Christmas, our family went to Galveston Island but walks on the beach then included a lightweight jacket and definitely no swimming. Then in March one year I visited my best friend in North Carolina and while we enjoyed the beach, it just wasn't the same.
But this time, I swam in the ocean, got sunburned one day, enjoyed live music in open bungalow-style restaurants, had drinks paid for by rich Southern gentlemen and their ladies, and indulged in a late-night ocean swim sans some clothing. It was perfection.
I read a book that I've heard so much about but never read. "Their Eyes Were Watching God". I realized how old I am when I actually WANTED to read this book after realizing that many high school and college students this year are being forced to do so. But I loved the book, nonetheless. And managed not to drown it in the Gulf. The library would've been PISSED.
Other things came out of the trip:
- I want to start a book club with my friends
- my friend, Kim, "usually doesn't like crabs but..."
- we love to people watch. And one of our quotes of the day came from a heavily intoxicated old lady in a sundress who said to her companions, "when the waiter comes for our drinks, I want EVERYTHING!"
- I ate the finest meal I've had in a restaurant in a l-o-n-g time. It was stuffed flounder with New Orleans beans and rice. I mean, seriously - the best meal. It came from the Original Oyster House.
It was also during this trip I had to purchase my first prescription pain medicine for Lyme-related pain. That was slightly discouraging. My body simply could not handle the 10-hour drive down there and by the time we arrived on Friday, I felt numb and exhausted from being in so much pain for so long. The trip home was much more comfortable thanks to the meds.
So, the long and the short of it is, I love the ocean and I really didn't want to leave. What I didn't love so much was the tourism and all the people and stuff so I decided that paradise, really, would be a private island with a private beach and lots of mountains surrounding me.
A girl can dream, right?!
Basically, I've never taken a beach vacation in the summer time. One Christmas, our family went to Galveston Island but walks on the beach then included a lightweight jacket and definitely no swimming. Then in March one year I visited my best friend in North Carolina and while we enjoyed the beach, it just wasn't the same.
But this time, I swam in the ocean, got sunburned one day, enjoyed live music in open bungalow-style restaurants, had drinks paid for by rich Southern gentlemen and their ladies, and indulged in a late-night ocean swim sans some clothing. It was perfection.
I read a book that I've heard so much about but never read. "Their Eyes Were Watching God". I realized how old I am when I actually WANTED to read this book after realizing that many high school and college students this year are being forced to do so. But I loved the book, nonetheless. And managed not to drown it in the Gulf. The library would've been PISSED.
Other things came out of the trip:
- I want to start a book club with my friends
- my friend, Kim, "usually doesn't like crabs but..."
- we love to people watch. And one of our quotes of the day came from a heavily intoxicated old lady in a sundress who said to her companions, "when the waiter comes for our drinks, I want EVERYTHING!"
- I ate the finest meal I've had in a restaurant in a l-o-n-g time. It was stuffed flounder with New Orleans beans and rice. I mean, seriously - the best meal. It came from the Original Oyster House.
It was also during this trip I had to purchase my first prescription pain medicine for Lyme-related pain. That was slightly discouraging. My body simply could not handle the 10-hour drive down there and by the time we arrived on Friday, I felt numb and exhausted from being in so much pain for so long. The trip home was much more comfortable thanks to the meds.
So, the long and the short of it is, I love the ocean and I really didn't want to leave. What I didn't love so much was the tourism and all the people and stuff so I decided that paradise, really, would be a private island with a private beach and lots of mountains surrounding me.
A girl can dream, right?!
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