Stitches & Giggles

{Disclaimer: If you don't like talking about gross stuff & stitches, skip this one}

I know that is an odd way to start a post- but I don't want to make anyone pass out at their desk. I'm far from squeamish. Growing up, I always accompanied my animals, big and small, into surgery. I was once thrilled to aid an ER doctor in draining a cyst on my dad's back. (Seriously, if you're squirming now- stop reading.) I've helped stitch, passed the scalpel & uttered the words "Oh my God, her bone is totally exposed!" without flinching. 

With that said, it is no surprise that I actually googled how to remove a knot behind my knee myself. I know, I know...all ten of you just panicked. This knot has been around for about 12 years. When I first went to the doctor, it was biopsied to death and doctors were a little unsure of what it was, except that it was NOT cancerous. I had been kicked in this particular leg a handful of times, so I truly didn't have much feeling in the 'knot' area. Scar tissue? Sebaceous cyst? A combination of the two? At that time, no doctor wanted to remove it for whatever reason. 

For years, it didn't bother me. Granted, a few years after it moved into my life, I became a mommy- so my focus was definitely not on myself. Cut to {pun intended} a few months ago when I started training for the half-marathon...and it started feeling weird so off to the doctor I went.

"It's a cyst...we can get you an appointment to get that out- no problem at all!" the doctor said.

The appointment was made and a few weeks later- it was removal day. I purposely wore a long dress, so I wouldn't have to put on an awful gown- knowing it would be about 10 below in the office. The doctor came in & I began chatting it up. #giftofgab

"So can I sit up and watch you cut it out?!" I asked...probably too excitedly.

"Um, sure..." he said.

"I googled how to do it myself. I figured if you couldn't get me in, I could probably just pop that sucker out on my own!" I giggled, realizing that I was not only making the doctor really uncomfortable, but I was doing exactly what my dad would do in such situations. 

He didn't reply...or laugh. This guy has no personality.

"Okay, I've numbed the area. You shouldn't feel anything but if you do, please let me know," he said, as he put the scalpel to my skin.

"OH MY GOD!" I yelped, "Just kidding...don't feel a thing," I said with a very proud smile on my face.

Again, he did not think I was funny. But I knew that my daddy was laughing his tail off because that is exactly what he would've done.

Only in Wanchese

"I'm going for a run, honey!"

"I really don't like you running at night...at least take Tuff with you," my sweet husband told me.

Mind you, Tuff is far from the definition of his name. He is 70lbs worth of white lab snuggles. So I chuckled to myself when it was suggested that I bring him along.

It was a quiet night. Missy Elliott and I were totally flipping it and reversing it when out of nowhere, a chocolate lab appears. I jump out of my skin because naturally, I didn't hear him coming. #thanksdrdre Tuff, being startled by my squeal...barked, scared himself and dove in between my legs.

The chocolate lab seemed harmless. He was wagging his tail and very excited to see company at 9 something at night. I tried to shoo him away so we could carry on...right about the time that Tuff decided he must defend his mother's honor & jumped at said chocolate lab. As luck would have it, I also went flying towards the chocolate lab, since at some point, the leash had gotten wrapped around my legs. I landed head first, feet and legs in the air, in the middle of the lab-argument. #fantastic

They both stopped and looked at me wide-eyed. Tuff braced for impact, knowing he was getting ready to get in big trouble. However, I couldn't sufficiently scold him because not only was I tangled in the leash, but I was also tangled my dang headphone cord. I looked like a calf that had been roped in a rodeo!

I finally got to my feet and the damn chocolate lab was still there...bouncing like bunny rabbit, I'm assuming singing "where are we going?! what are we doing?! are you my mommy?!" Again, I tried to shoo him...nothing. I picked up a stick & threw it, thinking he would chase it. No, he jumped up and caught it midair. #impressive Finally, I decided we would just run for it, assuming that eventually he would get tired of running and stop.

Except labs never get tired...of anything...ever.

He ran all the way home with us, trying to race/play with Tuff the entire time. When we strolled into the driveway, he joined us...like "So this is where we live...cooooool!" I yelled go home- and off he went.

My upper body certainly wishes I would've thought of that sooner. Shew! Next time, I'll opt for my pepper spray instead of my lab! #thanksbabe

Nothing Runs Like A Deere, But I Try!

I watched the posts rolling in the day of the Outer Banks Marathon. I was particularly excited to see one special runner cross the finish line and post a photo with her mama. She ran for her daddy, who she lost the year before to cancer.

A few days later, I sent her a message...

I'm so proud of you! You inspired me...maybe next year I will run with you!

She replied, "Yes!! FYI there is a half in April!"

I looked up the Flying Pirate online immediately. Although I've started 'couch to 5k' about 10 times and quit when it got tough, something in me was really excited about trying again...and you know, trying for 13.1 miles and not just a little over 3.

April 23...I read it and started to cry. I started typing my reply...

I just googled it...it's the first anniversary of Daddy's diagnosis. It's meant to be!

She replied, "Perfect! We will run in your daddy's honor!"

I knew I would have to start training soon- otherwise, I would never make it. The next weekend I broke out my running shoes and hit the pavement. I ran to the end of my road and back- running one minute, walking the next and so on...it was a little less than 2 miles and I cussed, when I wasn't gasping for air, the entire 30 minutes. My lungs hurt. I felt like I was going to cough up a blood clot and possibly die. At one point I looked at the sky, in true Fred Sanford form and whispered, "I might see ya soon, Daddy!" 

When I made it home, I collapsed on the couch and didn't move for the rest of the day. As the shock wore off, so did the pain that I thought I was in. My muscles forgave me and I realized something...I did it. I took the first step and nothing bad happened. 

The next morning I got up and did it again. This time, trying some of the breathing tips I read about during my post-run couch-coma, I didn't think I was going to die...not one single time.

That was in November and I'm still going strong. I alternate using the Couch to 5k app with other apps for running. (Couch to 5k builds you up from walk/run to running. Each day you run a little more, walk a little less.) When one run seems rough, I do that same run again the next day. I started not only tolerating my runs, but enjoying them...even looking forward and depending on them!

I never thought I would be a 'runner' (granted I run slower than a turtle in peanut butter) but I think I am. It resets my mind and gives me peace. I have found that I need my runs more than I need coffee in the morning. (And that is saying something.) I don't stick with just mornings or just evenings- I switch back and forth. Sometimes, if I have a really stressful day, I do both...not for my body or for training, necessarily, but for my sanity and the safety of others. 

Knowing that I'm running for my daddy gave me the drive to try it, again- and stick with it this time. In the still of my early morning and late evening meetings with the asphalt, I feel his spirit with me. I hear him telling me to take it easy, bud...but don't give up. 

So Don Deere...on April 23 I'm going to do my best to run like a deere. ;-)

Say 'I love you'

We live in a small, tight-knit community and I've said before, when one of us goes through something, we all do.

Recently, two special people were battling cancer. They were both diagnosed around the same time- and both ended their battle this week, but in two very different ways. One rang the bell, ending her last radiation treatment...and one went home to be with the Lord.

Our horse community lost a very special cowgirl last week, as well. With social media, news travels fast and kind words and photos get posted almost instantly for the world to see. Upon reading the many testimonies about how much this cowgirl meant to so many people, I wondered...did she realize she was this loved? I hope so. She was the kind of person who told you when she loved you- partly, I believe, because she knew tragedy all too well. She lost two children in a tragic accident 11 years ago. She knew that life was fragile. 

When tragic events strike close to home, it reminds us to tell each other how we feel. We say I love you. We make time for each other. We put other's needs in front of our own...but unfortunately, as quickly as we are reminded, life gets in the way and we forget.

I may tap-dance on the borderline of over-using I love you because it is my personal belief that you can't overuse I love you if you mean it every time you say it. Life is too short to not say it when you feel it. Life is too short to not make time for our loved ones. Life is too short to not stop and have that conversation in the grocery store with someone you don't see that often- because who is to say that it may not be the last time you have a conversation with that person?

Say I love you. Thank your friends for being good to you. Remind your loved ones that you're grateful they were put in your life. Life is a fragile gift that we all-to-often take for granted.

Life is a Lottery

The main topic of conversation just about everywhere in the country is the lottery. Have you bought a ticket? How did you pick your numbers? What will you do with your winnings? Can you believe how high the payout is? You name it, the questions are flying.

I'm guilty too. It's fun to dream about what one would do with that kind of cash. {Buy a Ranch.} Last night, while discussing our imaginary ranch- where the living room would open up into the aisle way of our 30 stall barn- we quickly moved from what we would buy to what we would give.

To our church. To our family. To our close friends. Even to our bosses. {job security}

Tonight, as I packed Little Miss's suitcase for a trip with her father, I heard about a fatal accident in a neighboring county. My heart sunk for the family involved. (This news made me snuggle Little Miss extra tight, as she wiggled away, not understanding my tears.) I thought about another friend who has an ill parent...several friends who are battling cancer...and how the lottery is the last thing on any of their minds. While money is as great bonus- it certainly can't buy happiness or healthiness.

When you look up the definition of the word lottery, the secondary definition states it is a process or thing whose success or outcome is governed by chance. Life is a lottery. Each day is a blessing, one that can be taken away in the blink of an eye. By chance, we wake up each day. By the grace of God we are able to get up, get dressed and go to work for the day...to come home, most of the time exhausted, to our loved ones. 

Life is the lottery we need to pay attention to and be truly grateful for. So tonight, as we all clinch our winning Powerball tickets- take a moment to be thankful for what you already have, because the things that money can't buy are what are the most valuable.

What a Wonderful Year

Yesterday was the last day of Little Miss's 2nd grade career. 

I can't...I just...can't. Where has time gone? Why is it that, as she gets older, time goes by faster? {and somehow I don't age a day, weird}

As I walked her down the hall to her classroom, we walked past the room she spent her kindergarden year in. It took me back to the first day I walked her into the elementary school. I had butterflies in my belly and tears running down my cheeks- she held her head high and was ready to start her school day.

We walked past her first grade classroom...and again, I went back in time to the memories in that particular classroom. The two teachers who will undoubtedly always hold a very special place in my heart.- they helped both Little Miss and I through many life changes in one short school year. They always seemed to know when I needed an extra, "She's doing fine...and so are you, Mom" or when Little Miss needed an extra hug at morning drop off.

This year, Little Miss started the school year upstairs- and midway through the year, moved to a new classroom in the new wing of the school. I remember the fear she had, at the beginning of the year, of falling up the stairs. {let's face it, she's her mother's child} Those fears have now faded.

As we rounded the corner and walked into her classroom, I became overwhelmed with emotion. {my baby is about to be a third grader} I kept it together while we gave her teacher our "thank you for rocking our 2nd grade experience" gift. Little Miss's teacher this year has also been so extremely special to us. We had our first experience with a bullying situation- and Little Miss so desperately did not want to be a tattle tale, so she held back telling anyone at school what was happening. When I told her teacher- she reacted immediately. It was so difficult to watch my little one be upset- and not be able to resolve the issue for her. To try to teach her how to resolve it on her own- without turning into a bully herself. Thanks to her teacher being 'on it' and her mommy-instincts kicking in too- within days, the situation was resolved and the girls were friends. {seriously, she worked some magic or voodoo or something} 

When I left Little Miss in her classroom, for her last day in second grade, I thought back to my second grade year. The field trips...the day my dad picked me up on my horse, Sham...the laughter....the last year before 'real' school stress began- it was a wonderful year. Both times I was able to experience the second grade...they were both such wonderful years.

...untitled...

For the last almost-year, I have wanted to write something. Anything. Something describing the river...no, ocean, of emotions that were flooding through my life.

But I couldn't. It didn't seem appropriate. While I made most of my life public for quite sometime, whether by my own choice or not, somehow- now, it didn't seem right. The fishbowl I was swimming around in was changing...and it was time to hang curtains around the glass house.

I wrote posts in my head over and over. Thinking of different ways to try to catch up my blog on my life- then I would question myself. Why do I feel like I need to do this? Because writing is my therapy. That is why. I felt like if I just started fresh, I would be leaving out chapters in my book. {Even though, lets face it- the book has been sparse over the last few years.}

So here goes...

I was driving to the airport...head just above water in the ocean of emotions I just mentioned. I'd driven this drive hundreds of times- but this time it was different. This time I was dropping my daughter off for her first trip to visit her dad since our separation. She was excited to see him and I was excited for her...and terrified for myself. {emotional roller coaster} She had never, ever been away from me except for a night here or there with my parents. I worried about every.single.detail of her trip from seat belts and baths to dinners and stranger-danger. {I mean psycho worried- I wanted to book myself a ticket to fly with them...and just follow along behind every step of her stay, to be ensure everything would be fine. I didn't, of course. But I wanted to.} Then before I knew it, I was driving home, listening to her stories of all the adventures they'd been on during their time together. I had nothing to worry about. {but that's what moms do}

There are things that I will not say about my life, the people in it and the decisions I've made over the past year. Simply put? I am happy...and it's a wonderful feeling. I love my daughter more than anything in this world. She will always be the first priority in my life. Her father is not a bad person- or a bad father...in fact, he's a great father. He and I just weren't meant to grow old together as husband and wife. We will always be in each others lives and I will never utter an ill word about him. {did you catch the pun?} I do hope that we will be friends...even though no one ever thinks that can truly happen. 

I don't know when or if I will even post this entry. But it is a start. A start to 2015...a new life and new happiness.

Ho Ho Holidays

The Christmas season is so busy that it seems like- by the time the stockings are filled and the turkey is in the oven...I realize a gazillion tradition I would've liked to have done with my little family. But didn't.

One new tradition we started- we welcomed an Elf on the Shelf to our family this year. Her name is Ruby. The day she arrived from the North Pole- Little Miss saw a tiny white feather beside her. She decided Aunt Ruby (who has real wings b/c she's an angel now) must've had a hand in the elf finding us. (I cried.) While many elves seemed very energetic at night, according to their human's facebook pages, ours tended to just hop from place to place. I had a heck of a time remembering to "leave the window open" for the Elf...so she could fly in & out. (aheeem) 

On Christmas Eve, in between deep-cleaning the house b/c apparently, I thought Santa was coming to stay-a-while, Little Miss, Mr.B and I baked and decorated cookies. They were delicious...Santa shared.

The morning of the big day- I woke up at 6am. I had butterflies in my belly just like I did when I was a little one. I tip-toed out into the living room and saw what the jolly-ole-elf left for us. I fixed my coffee, put the breakfast casserole into the oven- and snuggled back down in bed. Two hours (TWO HOURS) later, Little Miss woke up...and stumbled into our bedroom. The three of us walked into the living room together & Little Miss was overjoyed with the American Girl accessories Santa left for her & her doll. A few minutes later, my parents arrived with homemade biscuits...and my Christmas was complete. (They were cheese biscuits...mmmm my heart skips a beat just thinking about the little dollops of dough filled with cheese.)

Little Miss shredded through present after present- Barbie, clothes...hmmm- a small box that doesn't rattle? This is probably a boring...IPAD!!?!?? Then she peed a little.

At that point, neither of us cared about any other presents- we just wanted to play with our new toys. We got my parents a Kindle Fire...and my dad (the truck driving, mechanic, who's far from a tech-savvy fella) hasn't put it down yet. He asked me yesterday about Twitter...he wants to sign up. I love it.

Once the presents were opened and it was time to play with our gifts...shockingly, no one wanted a photo. No problem- that's why I have pets...because they're loyal and there for you when you need them. Hmph.

Thanks, Kitties.

I was able to sneak a few of Little Miss...after lying and saying "Noooo I'm not shooting you...I'm shooting this piece of wrapping paper in the floor." (Bedhead documented...sweet!)

And yes...half the lights on our Christmas/Hanukkah tree don't work. It was already decorated...I figured from outside- you can only see half the tree anyway, so I justified my laziness.

Who needs lunch when someone gives you a GIANT chocolate kiss? Yea...eat it, girlfriend.

Later that afternoon, we moseyed over to my parents home to have an early dinner. Santa left a surprise for Little Miss there too!! A kitchen for her "apartment" at Bub & Gran'Dads!!

Christmas spent with family...what more can you ask?

Nail Polish & Roses

Sometimes, you just need a little pampering with your 'sister from another mister'...I swear, sometimes nail polish will fix what ails ya. Little Miss and I spent the day with my "turtle" sissy, her broken back and her precious 1 year old little girl. It was a total "girlie" day complete with a photo shoot and bubbly pedicures. (Sidenote: nail polish remover will win in a battle against a kitchen table.)

Little Miss loves hanging with younger pals, like little Gracie. So much so, that tonight when we discussed our rose and thorn of our day- she said her rose was spending the day with Gracie...and her thorn? Having to leave Gracie. Is your heart melting? Mine did...my rose instantly became hearing about her rose/thorn!

A few nights ago, I mentioned I'd extended an olive branch to a few special family members my heart has been missing. While I was prepared for any outcome, I received emails and calls from them that were filled with love, thankfulness and excitement. I was a total sap and cried when I read their messages. We all agreed that we could focus on making new memories, remembering happy past ones...and close the chapter (that didn't directly involve us) of negativity.

I would have to say reuniting with family and learning about their current lives, even through calls/emails, was the rose of my week. And my thorn? Well...I can't say I have one.

Family

Family. They can drive you crazy. They can hold you when you cry. They can make you laugh until your sides hurt. They can hurt you- and because they're family, you forgive them.

All families have their issues. They have arguments and go through periods of time where they don't speak. But the thing with family is that nothing will ever change the fact that you are that...you are family. We stand by our family...which can make arguments among family members difficult for innocent bystanders. While we want to stand by and support those in the 'ring'...we want to be able to continue our own bonds, as well.

I decided today that life is too short for rifts, arguments and silence. Before we know it, the chance to call & say "Hey...this is out of hand- let's fix it and make happy memories" will be gone. Reminiscing about past memories together, won't be possible. Sharing those memories with the younger generations will be lost in the shuffle of an argument that grew faster and larger than a crop smothered with miracle grow. An argument that began so long ago...we're all thinking "wait...what is it we're fighting for, again?"

So today...I reached out to family members I haven't spoken to since Little Miss was a wee-one. I put myself in the position to get rejected- to have my olive branch swatted right back at me. I opened my arms (via facebook- it's not just for cyber bullies!) and my heart to my family...because I felt in my heart, it was what I needed to do. For me, selfishly...just for me. Even if the olive brach is swatted away, I won't harbor ill feelings. I will know I did what I needed (for me) to heal my own heart.


But coffee, memory sharing and kids playing in the near-future sure would be nice. ;-)

Arguing

Ask anyone. I can argue until the cows come home. I never tire or weaken my argument...I only grow stronger. I can argue until my opposer tosses their hands in the air in frustration and gives up...then I will consider arguing the point of why it took us so long to realize I'm.Always.Right.

Ask my friends...ask my mom...ask the man at the grocery store who attempted to tell me there was no banana yogurt in the box he was stocking the refrigerated shelves with- I will win. (And I'll win with yogurt!)

That being said...while arguing doesn't typically phase me- arguing with a tiny clone of myself, does. Little Miss doesn't choose her battles...she clearly wants to challenge the man at the grocery store who seems to think her mother is an arguing maniac. She thinks I'm a wimp. She sees my skills and throws fire on them. She will argue over any.thing.

I remember my first argument with my mother. (Well, it may not have been the first argument with her- but it was the first time I realllly pissed her off during an argument.) I want to say I was in first grade...and I believe the argument was over something silly like brushing my teeth.

Silly little argument...mmhmm, you're now rounding the bend to bite me in the arse, eh? I see ya. Oh and Hello, Karma...glad you could join us too.

School mornings begin with sweet cuddles from Little Miss in her bed. We get the clothes down that we've picked out from the night before...and it starts.

"These socks don't match!" Little Miss demands.

"They're pink. You're wearing pink...it matches," I respond.

"It's not the same pink!"

"Well, it coordinates...come on- lets go brush you're hair, monkey."

"I am changing my socks! These look horrible!"

I consider swapping coffee for wine...but know I'll never pull it off.

We argue over the color of the socks back and forth until finally...she decides she will just wear shoes that cover the socks. (While cursing me and calling me color blind in her head, I'm sure.)

In a few short moments, we're out the door and on our way to school. Hugs and kisses commence and before I know it- my little girl is sitting in a classroom full of kindergarteners and I'm? Crying in my truck because we fought over socks. SOCKS.

I argue with myself in my head...I should've just let her change & not argued. But what is that teaching her? That she can spend 30 minutes changing socks in the morning before school to find the perfect color hue to match her shirt? Doesn't that just promote child OCDs? Is that even a thing?

The afternoon rolls around and Little Miss bounds into the truck like a kitten with a ball of yarn. She's thrilled to see me and tell me all about her day. I'm thrilled to hear about every tiny detail. (Even the day she apparently beat up a boy on the playground for being a bully. Thats a post in itself.)

We get home and begin homework. Yes, kindergarteners have homework too...and since Little Miss went to preschool for 3 years- it should be a breeze for her, right?

We begin with a name-writing worksheet. I think it will be a piece of cake because...again, she was in preschool- homegirl can write her name with her eyes closed. But now, she is asked to write the letters a certain way- not just to make them look like letters.

"I can write them however...it looks the same," she tells me.

"Well, your teachers are suggesting we practice doing it this way- so we can-"

"They hate my handwriting! I want to write it my way! The way I have always done it!" she interrupts.

She's slightly more dramatic than I am. She goes from zero to hysterical in less than 2 seconds.

We work with the letter y...since it is in her name. We practice over and over...and finally, she stops arguing, opens her brain and realizes it's not difficult. But you have to try...

So our days in the B home have been a little trying. But we will get through it because clearly...we're fighters. ;-)

Tiny Dancer

Every Monday since the fall, Little Miss has joined the girls at Dare County Parks & Rec for dance practice. They have tapped and ballet'd and plea- um, well- you get the idea. Since the first day of practice this year, Little Miss has asked when- oh, when- will her dance recital be?! How much longer?

She was ready to jump up on the stage and dance her toes off. Stage fright? Pah-lease. 

Last year, her Bub stayed in the backstage area with her- but this year, Little Miss hung out with her girls and the backstage-mom all by herself. (This may not seem like a lot- but these little girls, with the help of the backstage mama/saint, have to change into a whole new outfit...and quickly.)

After lots of kisses were exchanged, I made my way out to the auditorium to find a seat. (Okay, I cried a little too.)

Raindrops are falling on my head!!

My little ballerina!

Next year, Little Miss has decided she'd like to learn some hiphop dance routines. She's ready for her official b-girl status. Yo yo yo...whaaad uuuup ;-)

The Split

So...here's what happened.

I meshed my two blogs together a while back- you know, I thought that would be easier to accomplish timely posts b/c I'd only have the one blog to worry about. Then, I realized that I didn't exactly want to write about my personal, personal life on my 'business' blog because- well, because I can be kind of opinionated at times. Not that I'm not open to hearing others opinions, but it's difficult to get that particular point accross when you're only expressing your own opinion. So, I split them again...and then I got to busy with work to even tell my husband about my day, much less post on my blog.

I miss writing. I've said it before, it was my first love...er, one of them. And I will tell you, the crazy stuff that goes on in this little life of ours? It's worthy of a few blog posts here and there. I think you'll laugh, I really do.

Why do I have time to write today, you may ask? I hurt my back. Yes, me and my rap-sheet worth of back problems are adding on. Yay, me. I'm not sure what exactly I did to deserve all this, but it has literally knocked me on my butt.

Let's not dwell on that.

Last night, after Little Miss had pretty much pulled out all the stops to avoid bedtime. I gave up. I kissed her head, took my pain pill and came to my own bed. A few minutes later, my presense was needed in her room. She let me know that her new baby bear, Daisy Mae, was sad. She missed her friends at Wal-Mart and needed to sleep with me. Although it was cute, it didn't win me over. I kissed her goodnight & came back to bed. She called again- I got up...again. She told me she had to tell me something.

"Mama, when I get older, I'm going to have kids...and I'm going to make them sleep in their own beds, too," she told me.

"That's good, baby. Goodnight," I said.

"No, wait. And when they get older...they're going to have their own babies too. And I think they're going to make them sleep in their own beds too."
"Uh huh," I said.

"And then I will be old. Very old........and rich!!"

I was taken back a little. Rich? I don't think I've ever said that word in her presense, much less to her. To be sure she meant she'd be rich b/c she'd have all these healthy babies and love and happiness....

"No...rich means with money. So I can buy whatever I want and stay up past my bedtime," she corrected me.

Well...apparently when she's old- she can pay me off to stay up late? That's what I took from that. See? Not necessarily the opinion I'd like future clients to read prior to meeting me.

The split was a good decision.

More Than A Fundraiser!

This past  Thursday was one of my favorite dinners of the year. And yes, it's partly because I don't exactly have to cook.

Little Miss's preschool had their annual spaghetti dinner- which funds the preschool/after-school program! The teachers start working on this even months in advance because it's profits are what helps buy supplies for the upcoming school year. The day-of, parents, grandparents and well, anyone who will agree to help, join together to cut vegetables, stir sauce, boil noodles and cut vegetables.

...and did I mention cutting vegetables? I think we should all take a moment to bow down to the largest carrots I've ever seen- much less cut!

 

 Only minor injuries were endured in the making of the above salads.

That is not my hand...but I can assure you that my hand looked no different by the time I left- thanks to the extra-sharp knives of some fisherman. (Sucker sliced through glove and all! Yowsah!)

Thankfully, my daddy was available to take over my shift so I could run home and bake my dessert for the evening. (He left with less injury, you'll be pleased to know.)

Not that we were lacking in the dessert department. Let me tell you something, these parents can bake! It was worth the money for the dinner just for the desserts! Did I mention they're all homemade? Yes, even mine...and to my knowledge, I didn't make anyone sick. (Score one for me and my cooking skills!)

This night is about more than noodles, sauce and desserts. It's more than just a fundraiser. This event brings our small community together. We're able to really visit with our neighbors, who we may only see when we're rushing to work or to run errands. It gives us a moment to look around at those who share this space with us and be thankful for their presence.

We're able to look at our children- and laugh together at their silliness. We're able to look at how they've grown since the last spaghetti dinner. We're able to take a moment to share a story about our crazy dogs. (Okay, so I was the only one sharing. But the mayor did inform me we can now have chickens in the town limits!)

While I'm sure a great deal of money was raised on this special night, nothing could be more valuable than the memories made while preparing and eating the delicious meal. Thank you, Shon & Scarlett for all your hard work all year- and particularly for the spaghetti dinner. We love you.

Confessions of a Horse Lover: More Than A Vet Check

Horses are funny animals. Certain horses- nothing phases them. You could take them to a mountain top, in the freezing cold and they'd eat their hay and grain just as well as they do at their own barn. Other horses need time to adjust.

After a few days at our barn, my new fella still wasn't quite adjusted. It concerned me- with his already thin frame, that a few days with no grain could be a tell-tale sign of a bigger issue. What do you do when you have a concern like this? You call for backup.

My backup arrived and we discussed possible issues as to why he may not be eating. Everything from ulcers to the simple- he just doesn't like his old feed from his old home. With horses, the issue is almost never as simple as they just don't like their grain...but this time- it was! While discussing the grain issue, we noticed some serious weakness in his hind legs. He wouldn't fall over when tugged on- but he was far from resistant. This is a key symptom in horses who have Equine Protozoal Myeloencephalitis or EPM. I was devastated. I couldn't even research it b/c it made me so sick to think that someone could sell a horse with this disease...especially to someone who'd be riding this horse with a child.

Conversations with the previous owners flooded my mind almost like a dam breaking. But they said he was shown hunt seat? He was a jumper? How could he do all those things with all this weakness? Is this why they traded me?

The following day I went for a ride with some of my favorite girlfriends, on one of their extra horses. The talk was mostly about my new horse...and what our options were. (I say our because that's how horse-people are. If you're in a funk, they're going to be in the funk with you...until you find a way out of the funk.) We discussed possible treatments, other diseases that could cause the weakness and even that it could just be from malnutrition. I don't think any of us really thought it could be malnutrition- that's just way to simple right?

One of my other good friends called me daily. She worried just as much as I did about my new fella. On the morning of the vet visit, I got a call from her...which I thought was just to tell me the ETA of the vet b/c he was coming from her place. 

"So, we'll be heading over in a few minutes," she told me.

"The vet will be?" I asked.

"Well, yea...soon- but we're coming for support...for you. And because, you know- we just really want to hear the vet say he's ok!" she said.

What can I say? I'm blessed with some amazing friends.

The vet arrived and started right in with the shot giving, teeth checking exam. I hesitated mentioning anything about EPM- I guess I didn't want to jinx it. I told the doctor that I'd noticed some weaknesses here and there with my new boy and he stopped me, told me to walk him in several small circles. My heart was in my throat as we circled tightly. I held my horse's face, as if that would change the outcome in my favor.

"What he has is like this...he's very thin, with very little muscle. So it would be like you standing on stilts. There is not muscle connected those stilts to your actual leg, right? So you'd be a bit wobbly at times...that's how he feels with those long legs," he told us.

"So it's not EPM?" I asked with tears in my eyes. (covered by large sunglasses)

"No. I'll tell you why..." he began explaining.

I could hardly listen to why it wasn't EPM because the words 'he's fine' kept ringing in my head. I hugged my horse, I hugged the doctor, I choked back tears until the vet left...and then the happiness flowed right out my eyeballs.

That afternoon (per doctor's approval) I took my new fella, Broadway "Mr. Big" Braunstein, out for his very first ride around town. We brought along our friend, Cindy, who shared in prayers and support through the two weeks of unknown. Mr. Big and I took it along slow, just walking the streets of Manteo together. I could literally feel our bond growing with the sound of each hoof hitting the pavement. Mr. Big is not all about other horses, which is a welcome change. He sniffed noses with my friend's mare, Dice, but quickly pinned his ears back- as if to say, "don't get to close...I won't share my food with you, no matter how pretty you are." He is a wise man, another welcome change. He wants to protect his rider- so long as they protect him.

As soon as our ride was over, I was ready to ride again. However, the weather didn't so much cooperate with us until this weekend. We set out for our first trailered-ride together. My friends, Cindy and Mary joined us...and we had the most amazing time. Mr. Big did a phenomenal job. We ran into several obstacles that would've sent me up into the treetops had I been on Storm- but Mr. Big stopped, looked and carried on- like it was no big thing. (Because a go-cart really isn't a big thing!)

Thank you all so very much for the thoughts and prayers for a healthy vet-check. It was so much more than just a clean bill of health to me- it was the gain of a new best friend and companion. :)

I Can Breathe, Again

A few weeks ago I stopped breathing. Two days ago, I started breathing again.

My mom went to the doctor because she'd been having some pains in her side. As it turns out, they found out what was causing the pain- but found a few other things that they wanted to take a closer look at. Upon taking the closer look, they found something that needed a biopsy. When words like malignant and cancerous started being thrown around by the doctor- my hands started sweating, my ears began ringing and I could no longer focus.

My mom is my best friend. Without her, I'm not sure if I would ever, ever get anything accomplished. I call her at least four times per day. We share everything with each other and sometimes, yes...we want to strangle each other, but most of the time- we're best friends who laugh, cry and make fun of ourselves and others. 

I thought about my good friend Donna, who just recently passed away with cancer. I thought about her family and this first holiday season without her. I felt like it was unfair of me to voice my worry to my very good friend, Casey, Donna's daughter. As life would have it, she was one of the only people who made my worry subside.

The doctor's told us before we left their office that the biopsy results could be back by Friday...by Wednesday of the following week, we still had nothing. I was a nervous wreck...I couldn't sleep...I would cry in the bathroom...the thought of Christmas made me nauseous because of the what ifs that were flying through my head.

Wednesday morning I was sitting in my parent's living room when the phone rang- the doctor's office. Mom picked up the phone and walked to the bedroom- I followed right behind her. By the time I realized I was getting no information through pushing my ear up against the closed door, I barged into the room with her. She held up her hand with an okay symbol...and I could finally breathe again.

I couldn't contain my excitement. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that my mom was okay! The best I could manage was posting it on my facebook status. 

Almost immediately, my phone rang. With tears streaming down my face, I answered. It was Casey.

"I heard the good news!" she said.

I cried even harder...but I tried so hard to hide it. Of all of my friends, Casey was the first to call. She just lost her mom to the same ugly disease that I was so thrilled my mom didn't have. She was as excited as I was to hear the news...and wanted to call me to share the moment with me. Not text, not comment on facebook- but call. That phone call meant more than anyone will ever know to me. Thank you, Case...I love you.

Mom will go in the have some minor surgery on the 30th- the first of two. I will be right by her side, whether she thinks she needs me there or not...but this time- neither one of us will have any reason to hold our breath. ;-)

Simply Magical

The holidays are here! It's official- the town Christmas tree has been lit!

One thing I love about living in our small, island town is the small, island festivities. This past Friday, we joined hundreds of local folks to lite the town Christmas tree, sing carols, drink hot chocolate, freeze our tails off, and of course, to meet a jolly ole elf...the jolly ole elf. It was a wonderful time.

It's always a joy to see how Little Miss changes from year to year in regards to Santa Claus. One year she's absolutely terrified, the next year she thinks he's okay as long as I'm in his lap too, but this year? Oh this year she was all

about it. (Particularly because, jolly ole Saint Nick? He looks a heckuva lot like my uncle, Little Miss's great-uncle, Big Gully.)

She insisted on showing Santa the bow on the front of her sparkly dress...in true flasher style. (A dress she fought tooth and nail to wear...) She then told him she would like two fashion Barbies, one for her and one for her Bub...and the Santa movie. ("You know, the one they made about you, Santa.") She could hardly fall asleep that night- talking about how amazing it was to meet Santa. Simply magical.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving was one of firsts.

I cooked my very first turkey. I almost threw-up on said turkey, during the 'prep' process. I cooked two pumpkin pies, for the first time ever...and here is the big first, nothing caught on fire and everything tasted amazing! (Oh, and no one got sick! Yay!)

Although I cooked quite a few dishes at home, we ate dinner over at my parents home. It was nothing short of a smorgousborg of incredible food. Collard greens? Oh yes, with cornmeal dumplings. Yum, it makes my heart flutter like a teenager with her first crush.

Recipes from family members past and present flooded the thanksgiving table, as did the memories. It reminded me to be thankful for things those past relatives have left behind- whether it's a plate or a recipe,  morals or butterfly kisses...never take a moment for granted, they pass by too quickly.

Speaking of recipes, let's talk about dessert and my grandfather's recipe for pineapple cake. Yum-O. Or my daddy's recipe for chocolate-cheesecake...well, it's not actually his recipe, but he found it somewhere & made it wonderfully.

After dinner, Little Miss decided to click her sparkly heels and transform herself into a dancing machine. Let's face it, she didn't need to transform much at all.

I'm thankful she got rhythm from someone else in the family. I look like I'm having small seizures when I 'break-it-down'.

And I'm oh-so-thankful for our four-legged family. They make me laugh on a daily basis- sometimes in the midst of almost-breaking-my-neck from tripping over one-of-the-five of them.

Sweet Pea stalked the kitchen all morning, certain there would be some sort of turkey scraps he'd need to dispose of. Just when he gave up, the bacon was ready. About the time he dropped a tiny bacon crumb, which prompted Tinker to fly in like his butt was on fire, I was moving the over-flowing pumpkin pie towards the oven. Tinker got under my feet and ended up with pie filling from ears to tail. He was thrilled!!

I'm thankful I didn't have a sink full of dishes at that very moment, so I could toss my pie-covered chihuahua into the sink for a bath. (Yes, I bathe him in the sink...in the kitchen.)

Even though the turkey almost didn't get cooked and the pie almost didn't make it to the oven, it was the most perfect Thanksgiving we've ever had. Now, bring on Hanukkah and Christmas! Let the decorating being!!

Happy Birthday, Big Girl Jeni!!

As you know, our family doesn't need much of an excuse to celebrate. But we had a great excuse this week...Little Jeni turned 5!

Jeni, who we constantly call Little Jeni because she was named after my grandmother...made it known that she is no longer a little girl- she's now a big girl. Within the same breath of saying hello and hugging me, she informed me that she no longer sucked her thumb and she'd planned to eat most of her peas and even though she had her blanket, she didn't have to have her blanket....all because she's 5.

We spent the evening at my aunt and uncle's home eating pizza, ice cream and cake...telling stories and laughing. Some of us spent some of the evening in a princess tent. It was a wonderful night...and Little Miss was so exhausted she didn't even make it over the bridge before she was sleeping soundly.

By cake and ice cream...I meant, mostly icing.

I think it's safe to say they pretty much adore each other. I've never seen two little girls get along so well...as I knock repeatedly on my wooden desk. They work very hard to make sure the other one doesn't get her feelings hurt.

Jeni wanted to make sure Little Miss didn't feel left out of her birthday celebration- so she even let her blow out her big 5 candle. After she blew it out first, of course.

Big Gully got attacked by some little girls with icing fingers. I believe this was Little Miss's favorite part of the evening!

Sugar?

I'm pretty sure this is the definition of a great birthday celebration...icing on your face. :)

Happy Birthday, Jeni! We love you! (And happy mommyhood anniversary to you, Angie! You're a wonderful mother & I am so glad we can share our girls! Even though mine looks more like you than she does me...)

Just Like Mom

My mom is the busiest person I know. She puts her family and loved ones before herself, always. I've gotten in more than a few arguments with her over her never-ending list of 'to-dos' for other people...especially when she's feeling under the weather.

A few years ago when she had her gallbladder removed, she was forced to take some time off...doctor's orders, no ifs, ands or buts about it. As soon as she felt good enough to walk to the bathroom, she figured she could vacuum and dust the entire house. (Because, that's totally the same thing as getting up to pee!) I fussed with her...she said 'I know, I know' and continued on about her day. (Noting not to tell me the next time she vacuumed.)

My whole life I've been told how much I resemble my father, from my physical appearance to my accent. But today I realized, I'm exactly like my mother.

I can't sleep, no matter how sick I am, if the trash can is full, if the sink is full of dirty dishes or if the floor has not been swept.

I stayed home all day yesterday for the first time since we moved into our new home. (Feeding horses 15 minutes away from our house twice a day keeps me quite busy- but I wouldn't change it for the world.) I stayed home because I had a touch of strep/throat infection and bronchitis. My daddy refused to let me venture out into the below-freezing temperatures to feed my boys so my body could get enough rest to get well.

I watched movies with Little Miss- but suddenly couldn't focus on Cinderella because I knew the cat's litter hadn't been scooped since the previous night...somehow when I returned to the couch, I'd not only cleaned out the litterbox, but the whole bathroom, my bedroom & the playroom. I mean, I had all this time on my hands...I needed to put it to good use!

Mom, you are the only person in the entire world that I aspire to be like...even when I don't mean to. You are my hero...and I love being just like you.