Unspoken Fear

All of us have fears. Let’s not kid ourselves. No matter how bad-ass we think we are, there are things that send chills through us, deep down to the core.

I have a few fears, but one in particular, is a fear that I never voice. Why? Maybe because if I acknowledge it out loud, it may become reality. The sane side of me knows that’s not true. But then that little voice creeps into my mind…daring me to speak it out loud. So, I don’t.

Do you worry about your loved ones? The ones that are closest to you? Of course you do! If you don’t, you don’t have a soul and you might as well just quit reading right now.

My son is in the military, and I worry about him on each of his deployments. I always breathe a sigh of relief when he’s back home.

The person I worry about most though is my husband. Not because he is weak, or can’t take care of himself. He’s just the opposite. But his job is something that daily puts him on the forefront of danger. He’s a helicopter pilot. Not just any helicopter pilot. He’s a fire pilot.

While some say he has the “coolest” job ever, I see it from a slightly more realistic point of view. Yes, his job is exciting, thrilling and heroic, but those are perceptions that don’t reveal what his job truly is to me…dangerous. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate his job. On the contrary. I think his job is awesome. I used to fly with him all the time when he was on a news helicopter in the Los Angeles area. It’s a blast!! But the dangers he faces each and every day are not something most people experience or even think about. Every time he gets in that aircraft, whether it is on a training flight, or him and his crew are heading to a fire, there is the possibility of him not coming back home. We’ve had close friends and co-workers (I also used to work in the helicopter industry at a maintenance facility) that perished in helicopter crashes. I can’t even begin to explain the chill that goes right through me when we get news of another fatality. And while I know my husband is an ultra safe pilot and his aircraft is maintained impeccably, accidents do happen. Parts fail. There are bird strikes. Power lines become invisible during flight. Piece-of-shit drone operators fly their drones through the middle of fires where my husband is trying to put out the flames. I don’t see the need to get footage of flames up close, while endangering multitudes of firefighters on the ground and in the air. God forbid a drone is ever the cause of and accident involving my husband while he is flying, I will make sure that operator dies a slow and painful death.

So, every day my husband is at work, I have that nagging fear in the back of my mind. Is he safe? Is his crew safe? Will I get “That Call”?. On a few occasions, I’ve received phone calls late at night from one of his Captains. My heart stops when I see the caller ID. Do I pick up the phone? Do I let it go to voicemail? Do I want to know? But thank goodness, it was him calling me from someone else’s phone, because the battery on his died. *sigh*

While this fear is with me every day he is at work, I don’t dwell on it or let it consume me. I think if he realized how deeply it affects me, he would be bothered. And I don’t want him to be distracted at his job, worrying about me worrying. I pray that God keeps him and his crew safe. I pray that he comes home after his weekly shift. I pray that he makes it to retirement and we can go off and enjoy our golden years. But I also know that our plans for our future can be snuffed out in a flash. Without him, life would never be the same, especially if he was taken from me in a work related accident. So, I try to enjoy each moment I have with him. We’re not perfect and we have THOSE moments, but we always make sure we don’t part angry. Regret is a bitch I don’t want to live with.

 

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.

~Mark Twain~

Lazy Overload

Pet peeves – I have lots of them.

Here is one that continues to make my hair stand on end. Capitalization. It might seem like a minor thing, but really! People! How hard is it to properly capitalize words? Apparently, it is very difficult.

Is it the insane strain on your pinky finger to hit the Shift button? Or does your brain go into overload, trying to remember what needs capitalization and what doesn’t? Whatever the case, slow the hell down and do it right!

One of my jobs at work is to process the online transactions. It blows my mind to see people write everything in lower case. Their name, their address, all of their sentences…ugh! I want to e-mail them and just ask…why??? Really! I need to understand why it has become acceptable to be this lazy. And yes, it just boils down to being lazy. Nothing more.

Monday mornings are always super busy with all of the online stuff. So, this morning was no exception. After about the third “lower case” transaction, I started to twitch. Not the way I wanted to start this day.

After eating two, yes I said TWO, blueberry muffins, I now feel like I can deal with the capitalization idiots for the rest of the day. But that’s only today. Tomorrow is another story.

Work is calling my name. Gotta pay bills. *sigh*

Peace out!

Up In Age

Had myself a nice visit with Carmen yesterday afternoon. She was actually in a chipper mood, which is something of a miracle these days. As I walked in, I hear dogs barking “Jingle Bells” on her TV. I found that rather odd. I asked what she had going on there, and she grinned and told me that one of the nurses showed her how to find music stations on her TV and she was loving it. Her current station of choice is “Christmas in July”. I suppose if that’s what makes her happy, so be it.

Last week, her roommate passed away. We got to talking about that and I asked her how old she had been. Carmen says “Not too old. I think 84. That’s not really old, it’s just about the time you start getting up in age.” Alrighty then…

She recently broke her sunglasses (I think she rolled over them with her wheelchair). Glenn and I purchased a new pair for her. I had her put them on and pose for a picture. I told her I needed to be able to show Glenn how well they fit. She gave me one of her usual grumpy faces (she seriously looks and acts like Maxine). I asked her to smile, to let Glenn know she liked her new glasses. Very fashionable!

So, she proudly showed me some of the house dresses that were given to her by the daughter of the deceased. She says “I can’t wait to wear them. I’m just waiting for the weather to warm up a bit.” “Seriously??? 106 isn’t warm enough for you???” She says “Oh, is it that warm? Ruth (one of her friends from her old apartment) keeps telling me it’s really warm, but I didn’t believe her.” “Well Carmen, it’s blistering hot outside. It has been for weeks. I don’t even want to go outside it’s so hot.” I don’t think she still believes that it’s unbearably warm outside. If she’s waiting for it to warm up enough inside for her to wear those dresses, I don’t think she’ll ever get to wear them. Maybe they’ll crank the heat up in the winter. Who knows.

We got to talking about the roommate she had right after the other one passed away. Apparently, the gal they moved in was only going to be there for a few weeks to recuperate from a fall. She had visitors all hours of the day and night. Carmen says “All I heard was yack, yack, yack, yack. Who wants to listen to that nonsense? I sure don’t!” Ha Ha Ha. I wouldn’t either. At least that only lasted for a few days. I guess she mumbled enough about it for them to move her roommate to another room. We will see what kind of drama the next roomy brings.

Then she proceeds to “inform” me of how she ended up at the Skilled Nursing facility. The way she was talking, she has absolutely no recollection of the fact that I was there the day she ended up in the hospital. She told me that she had to convince Glenn that it would be better for her to be taken to the hospital via ambulance, versus him taking her to the emergency room. Funny…it was just the opposite. She went into great detail of how she had to “fight for her right to be taken by the fire department”. I tried to keep a straight face. I really did. I don’t argue with her about facts anymore. She won’t remember next week anyways. So I just let her talk. I take a great interest in her story, which keeps her engaged (and not enraged). With each telling, her stories are more and more embellished. She tells me that she was admitted to the hospital because she had a heart attack. I told her “I don’t think so. You had fluid on your lungs from congestive heart failure. That means, your heart is just old and tired.” (never mind we’ve had that conversation MANY times since March). She says “Really??? If you hadn’t told me that just now, I would have never known!!! Good thing I have you. You give it to me straight!”. OMG! I really had to keep myself from laughing at that one. “Yup Carmen, I’ve got your back. If you need to know the facts, just ask me. I’ll make sure you get the truth.”

She tells me that she feels like her body isn’t keeping up with her anymore. “Carmen! You’re 98 years old! Our bodies only hold up for so long, before they give out!”. “Well, I decided I want to live to 100 (Lord help us all!). At the rate I’m going, I’m not going to make it to 99. That wasn’t in my plans.” I tried to gently tell her that we all have to go at some time or another. She says “Yeah, I know. We all die. But I’m not old enough to die. But then my body tells me different. I just get so mad! I used to walk for hours, now I can’t even get down the hall without feeling like I ran a race. It’s disgusting!!!”

Her dinner arrived and I took that as my cue to leave. She wanted to discuss her dislike for certain meals, but I really didn’t want to leave on a sour note. I hugged her goodbye and headed home.

Success!

 

Not a Shred of Energy Left

Today is just one of those busy, busy days. No time to do anything, yet there are a million things to do. Writing should really be on the bottom of that list…but here I am. Amongst getting the animals taken care of, the succulents watered (which then turned into cleaning the dead stuff out of each pot, and replanting half of them), filing paperwork which has been piling up since early April, doing laundry, etc, etc…I walked past a mirror and thought I should really put on some makeup. I would sure feel better if I did. Most days I don’t care either way, but there are those days where I just want to feel prettier. So, as I walked into the office to start on my mountain of paperwork, I decided If I can’t take 10 minutes out of the day for myself, I have a serious problem. So much of our life is spent going, going, going, never doing what we want, but always what we have to. I truly wanted to put on makeup, so I did. Now when I hustle past a mirror for the rest of the day, at least I won’t look as tired as I feel. Loving yourself is highly underrated.

So, between filing and doing the laundry, I write. Then go back to filing, logging expenses, and once again I write. Just finished emptying the shredder. So…yeah…the shredder. This piece of equipment seems to be a silent battle between husband and I. But I think he’s winning the Lazy Man game on this one. We’ve gotten to the point where we just put the paperwork that needs to be shred on top of the shredder. Today, I finally decided to get rid of that pile, only to find out that it’s so full, that the paper is starting to back up into the blades. There wasn’t even any movement in the see-through window on the front. Yeah, it’s so jam packed, that it’s not even compacting anymore. But that means I have to take the lid off and risk a paper confetti explosion. FML! Now I know why husband started laying papers on top (I just followed suit). He didn’t want to be the one to empty it. I see what you did there, husband. One point for you. I go downstairs to grab a large trash bag only to get sidetracked with flip-flopping laundry. Maybe subconsciously I’m just trying to prolong the dreaded deed. So, I get the trash bag and confront my nemesis. How to get the top off, without making a mess? I had to inch it up and try to tilt entire container over the trash bag, without actually letting it fall over. That would just have resulted in a mess that would make me cry. I finally got the top off and gently placed it inside of the bag. Now I’m digging paper out of the blades…for days! Holy crap, I had no idea that much paper could be inside of the lid. When I finish that, without even cutting myself (it’s a miracle!), I dump the rest of the container in the trash. A 13 gallon trash bag is now half full, but I smile when I look at the now empty shredder. I feel accomplished. It’s a good day!

The paperwork is finally filed and I’ve logged the last expense on my spreadsheet. But it’s now already 6pm. Where has this day gone? Time to head downstairs and vegetate on the couch. I think I hear a book calling my name.

Peace out!

 

Hello…It’s Me

I’ve been asked by my BFF to “on your blog introduce yourself as you are now, upload a photo of something you love, tell me three things I should know about you.“

 

Well, here goes.

My name is Birdie (my BFF thinks Grumpy McGrumperson is more fitting), I’m 51 years old and my life is awesome! I’ve been married for 26+ years (to Glenn), have a son (Max), stepson (Steven), daughter-in-law (Mikayla) and two amazing grandkids (Leilani & Ronan). I work for a mission organization and have been with them for 11 ½ years. This job has allowed me some amazing travel opportunities, of which Africa was by FAR the most awesome place EVER! In February of this year, we opened my dream business. We are running a successful Airbnb vacation rental in our guest apartment below our house. We are located on 12 acres right on the Bear River. Last year, we spent 8 months renovating our guest apartment into a hobbit house theme. I’m very proud of what we accomplished! The Little Hobbit House is truly a dream-come-true.

I’m uploading a few pictures…just because I can. Of course I’m going to post a picture of my husband, since he’s the cra in my zy. Or is it the other way around? You decide. And of course, my doggy soulmate Keona. She’s been my shadow for the last 9 years. Can’t imagine life without her.

Hmmmm…three things people should know about me? That’s a bit more difficult.

1. I love the outdoors, especially in cooler weather (I don’t do well in the heat). I find every excuse possible to be outside. Indoors is of no interest to me.
2. My house used to be called “Birdie’s Zoo”. I’ve had some of the most bizarre animals. I’ve had mice, hermit crabs, birds (used to breed parakeets and cockatiels), dogs, chickens, a snake, and many more. I actually bred veiled chameleons once. That was WAY before the internet, so I had to do all of my research through books. Very time consuming. Animals rule! If I had my way, I’d have a few goats. Husband has already squashed that idea. According to him, goats cause cancer. LOL. What a crackhead!
3. I secretly wish I could sing. I honestly can’t carry a tune in a bucket. At 4 years old, my son told me one day in the car “Mommy, please don’t sing. It makes my ears hurt”. Thanks pal. I needed that vote of confidence. So, for now (and always), I sing (and I use that term loosely) in the car when I’m by myself. And should my ears start to hurt, I will stop.

I suppose I’ve given you enough…for now. Happy blogging, everyone!

 

 

The Final Goodbye

I’ve heard people ponder the question “If you knew your loved one was going to die, would you want the opportunity to say goodbye?”

For the most part, people answer a resounding “YES!!!”

I suppose earlier in my life I probably would have said the same, but no longer to I feel that way.

Let me explain….

In 2001 or 2002, my mom, my best friend, my everything was diagnosed with breast cancer. Talk about a punch in the gut! This was not something I ever expected to happen to someone so active and strong. She was the backbone of our family. The most God-fearing, loving and kind person you could ever meet. How could this be happening to her?

I took some time off work and traveled to Washington state to be there with her during her surgery and to help her with her recovery from a mastectomy. It was a slow road uphill, but she was a fighter. She wasn’t going to let this get the best of her. She underwent radiation and after her treatments were completed, she was pronounced cancer free. Thank God! What a miracle!

After this scare, our relationship became even closer. Although we lived states apart, we still talked on the phone every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. I always knew that her guidance and support was never more than a phone call away. There was a certain security in knowing that. My husband and I made several trips to Washington to spend time with my parents, and in turn they made many trips down to California to come see us. Life was good.

In 2005, for my 40^th birthday, my parents drove down and surprised me. That was awesome! But unbeknownst to me, they not only came down to celebrate my birthday with me, but also to housesit for us while my husband took me on a surprise birthday trip to Hawaii. Woohoo! While in Hawaii, we purchased a 2-week stay at a resort on the beach. The only stipulation was that we would need to use that time within the next 2 years, or we would lose it.

After we returned from Hawaii, we started talking to my parents about the 4 of us taking that trip in the next couple of years. The suite we reserved would sleep 4 adults and we couldn’t imagine anyone else we wanted to share that trip with.

We knew that we wouldn’t be going in 2006, so the plan was to return to Hawaii in the fall of 2007.

In early 2006, my parents embarked on a 2-month road trip. My mom had it all mapped out and they spent weeks exploring several states and national parks and really had a wonderful time.

A couple of months after they returned home, I received a call that sent ice through my veins. Mom’s cancer was back. Apparently, she had already been feeling very drained on their trip, but attributed that to their non-stop activities while on the road. But after they returned, her energy continued to decline. After an afternoon in the garden, her legs hurt so bad she could hardly move. Two weeks later, the pain in her legs had not subsided and my dad finally forced her to go see the doctor. It was obvious that this was more than just exhausted muscles from too much gardening. What they found was that she had thrombosis in her legs, usually caused by cancer somewhere in her body. They immediately put her on blood thinners and then proceeded to run tests. Their hope was that the breast cancer had returned, since that would something that could be treated much easier. Unfortunately, the test results showed that this was not the same cancer. Mom now had liver and pancreatic cancer. She was admitted to the hospital. I took a leave from work to go be with her, because I couldn’t imagine getting through even one day, not knowing what was happening. I needed her and she needed me. Her oncologist was a wonderful man who was very upfront with us. He pulled no punches, nor did he give us false hope. He basically said “You don’t recover from pancreatic cancer. People don’t go into remission. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. She may bounce back, but it won’t be for long. If she does feel better for a while, let her do whatever she wants. Because once she goes back downhill, that’s it. Generally pancreatic cancer patients have about 2-4 months”.

That timeframe sucked all the air out of my lungs. Even though my mom and I had no unfinished business, we were now on a timer, which would run out WAY too soon.

About a week into her stay, her organs started to fail and her doctor said it wasn’t looking good. We had people from her church stop by almost daily and pray for her. I was with her almost 14 hours a day, every single day. Miraculously, she started getting better and was able to go home after only a 2-week stay in the hospital. Once she was back home, I came back to California. She slowly started getting better. She was now on chemo and it seemed to be working. We were all breathing a sigh of relief.

Mom actually started feeling so good, that she and my dad decided to come down to California for Thanksgiving. What a fun time we had! We certainly had a lot to be thankful for. When anyone questioned my mom as to why God would allow this to happen to her, she would instantly scold them “God doesn’t make mistakes!!! This is not a mistake! He knows what He’s doing! I may not like it, but He knows best.”

After they returned back home, she continued to have regular chemo. Since the 2-4 month timeframe had come and gone, it was easy for the rest of us to feel like she might actually be able to beat this. After all, she’d already surpassed what the doctor had told us. Shortly after the New Year in 2007, mom called to say her tests were starting to look worse. The numbers weren’t what they should be. Chemo was going to be increased. She was getting tired more easily again, but still she was hopeful. Then, one day in late April we received the dreaded call. “I have 4-6 weeks to live. Chemo is no longer working. I’m done”.

I have never felt more like my heart was being ripped out of my body, than I did right then. The absolute fear of losing my mom was mind numbing. I told my work that I would be leaving immediately to take care of my mom and that I had no idea when I would be back. Thankfully, I work for an organization that was super supportive.

I flew to Washington to start the waiting game. Mom and I spent every day sitting on the couch, talking, reminiscing, and cuddling. She kept her wall calendar right next to her spot on the couch. Multiple times a day she would pick up the calendar and flip to November. She had two weeks blocked off, right around my birthday. In big red letters it said HAWAII. Yes, we had still been planning our trip and everything was set. If we didn’t take this trip by early December 2007, we would lose the money we spent on our vacation rental.

Every time mom picked up her calendar, she would point to the HAWAII and say “I’m going to miss my trip. I don’t want to miss out on this trip. I need to go on this trip. I want to go to Hawaii!” And I had to keep reminding her of how difficult it would be for me to go on this trip without her. I couldn’t even stand the thought of not having her there. She made me promise not to cancel the trip because of her though. But how could I go? How could I enjoy Hawaii, when her voice would continuously echo in my head “I don’t want to miss out on this trip!”?

The first week after her “countdown” started, each family member made the trip to come and say their goodbyes. Mom was loving it! She got to see the kids and grandkids, all in the span of a week. That hadn’t happened in years!

Then, as each day progressed, my dad seemed to be more and more at a loss. He was watching his soulmate slip away. I know everyone deals differently with this kind of situation. His way was to be absent. I suppose he just couldn’t watch her whither away. He would busy himself in the garden or in the kitchen. I found him spending HOURS locked in their office, looking at pictures on the computer from their 2-month road trip. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking. This left me to take care of mom. To make sure she got her meds on time, help her to the bathroom, bring her food (even though she usually didn’t have an appetite, when the food got to her), and generally just to be there. We talked and talked and talked. And watched “Everybody Loves Raymond”, her favorite TV show. When we weren’t watching “Raymond”, she wanted to listen to Allen Jackson’s “Precious Memories”. Over and over and over again. About a week and a half after I got there, she said “Please turn the TV off. I can’t keep up with the story line. It’s making me frustrated”. She had seen this show many, many times and her comment was my first glimpse into what was to come. Later, my dad asked her if she wanted to listen to some music. She agreed and he put one of her favorite classical CDs into the player. She came unglued at him “What is this crap??? Why aren’t you playing my favorite songs???” My poor dad. He had no idea what she wanted. We finally figured out that she wanted to continue to listen to “Precious Memories”. So that’s what we did. But I was now seeing a side of my mom that I had never experienced in my life. She was having moments of anger and hostility towards others that I never knew would be possible for her. She had always been everybody’s mom. I’ve never met a person that didn’t fall in love with my mom. Her sweet and funny personality was something that people were drawn towards.

This new side of her was just so out of character.

And as soon as she lashed out, she would apologize and tell us how horrible she felt and that she had no idea why she did or said that.

About a week later, the hospital bed was delivered. Mom was now officially on hospice. She looked at the bed and balked “Psshhhhh! Hospital beds are for sick people!” And then she giggled like a little girl. Crazy woman. We did have a good laugh about that.

She eyeballed that bed for a few hours and then told me “I’m going to try it out. But just TRY it out. Not sleep in it or anything like that”. So I helped her get in and get settled. She was playing with the head and footrest making it go up and down. We had some fun with that. Then she said “Wow, all of this up and down has made me tired. I think I need a nap. But you know, there is no sense in me getting up to go to the couch to nap, when I’m already in a bed. That would be stupid. And I’m not stupid”. So she ended up napping in the bed…then eating (somewhat) in the bed…then spending the night in bed…never to get back out again. The hospice nurse came and put in a catheter, making her trips to the bathroom unnecessary. The days that followed were some of the darkest days I’ve ever experienced in my life. I watched my mom turn into someone I didn’t recognize. For about another week, she was coherent at times, and other times she would make some of the meanest and nastiest remarks I’d ever heard come out of her. She would talk smack about people that I didn’t know she was capable of.

Wow! THIS was not my mom!

(Precious Memories continued to play ALL DAY LONG)

When my son called to check on her he would tell me how much he wanted to be there. I tried to gently tell him that I was making memories that will haunt me for the rest of my life and that he was better off remembering her just as she had always been.

And then she slowly faded away. My job continued to be making sure she had her meds and sitting by her side, just in the off-chance that she would regain consciousness. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, but a girl can dream, can’t she? The only sign of her still being somewhat aware, was when she would start moaning. I would drip pain meds into her mouth and she would settle back down. 16 hours a day I sat there, held her hand, talked to her and assured her that we would take good care of dad. I lost track of how many times I told her I loved her and how terribly I would miss her (I’m bawling my eyes out again as I’m writing this). I talked about the Hawaii trip and that I would think of her each and every day. I promised that I would have fun, since she had been adamant about that.

I read bible verses to her and thanked her for her never-ending prayers that had brought me back to church.

And so it went on and on and on. The hospice nurses were now coming twice a day at this point, always marveling at the fact that she was still hanging on. “Precious Memories” continued to play. My poor dad couldn’t find enough projects to keep him occupied. I lost track of how many times a week he was out on his riding mower, attacking the lawn once again. He was devastated.

Then, 5 weeks after that life-changing phone call my dad came to my bedroom at about 10pm and said “I think this is it”. I could hear her labored breathing as I walked into the living room where her bed was set up. Breathing…if you can call it that. It was more like gasping for air. My dad walked over to the CD player and started playing “Precious Memories”. He wanted that to be the last thing she heard. At 10:50pm on May 18, 2007 she drew her last breath. We waited and waited….would there be one more? Would she open her eyes one last time and acknowledge us? Would she say goodbye?

Nope.

Then my dad looked at me and told me to check if she was gone. He can’t be serious? Can he? I mean, haven’t I done enough? How could he ask me to do that??? But when I saw the heartbreak in his eyes, how could I not?

So I gently picked up her hand, barely skin on bones at that time and tried to find a pulse. There was none. My dad stoically looked at the clock, said 10:50pm and wrote it down on a piece of paper. Then he gently pulled the sheet up over her and asked me to call the hospice service. We sat there, stunned, until the people from the funeral home came to pick her up.

And so, to answer your question “Do I want the chance to say goodbye?”, I say “No thank you”. Had my mom been killed in an accident, I could not have been more shocked than I was when she finally breathed her last. But I do know, from experience, that if you lose a loved one in an accident, that kind of sudden pain puts your body and mind into shock, making it almost easier to bear. Watching a loved one in excruciating pain slowly die in front of you is the single most horrible thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I had nightmares for MONTHS. Each time my mom was sick and wanted to know why I didn’t care that she was in pain. She wanted to know why I didn’t help her get better. And in every nightmare, she died a slow and painful death.

A part of my heart was ripped out the day my mom died. It will never be replaced. But I’m a better person because of her (at least I hope so). I will be forever grateful for the AMAZING, AWESOME and INCREDIBLE mom she was. She gave me a childhood that many only dream about. She truly was my BFF. Sorry Kristine, but she will hold that #1 title in my life Forever.

Tell the ones you love that you love them…often. Don’t have unfinished business. Treat each day and each parting as if it were the last.

And yes, we did go to Hawaii. My dad couldn’t bear the thought of going, but my husband and I went. We thought of my mom daily and more than once I broke down in tears. But she would have been proud. We went…and we had fun.

~In loving memory~

Hildegard Pohli 12/21/1940 – 5/18/2007

Broken Lives

One might think that today is like any other day. Well, for most of us it will be. But as I drive to work at 5:30am, I listen to the radio and on comes the current traffic report. The announcer goes through his spiel quickly and efficiently, ensuring he gets all of the pertinent information to those of us on the road. This morning, there is a big accident on I-5. Then I hear the word “fatality” and my heart sinks. This happens to me every time I hear about another life lost on the roads. My thoughts instantly go out to the family of the person involved. From now until forever, July 26 is going to be the WORST day of their lives. I wonder, do they know already? Has someone come knocking on their door and given them this life-changing news? And I always find myself sending up a prayer, asking God to give them strength and peace through what will undoubtedly be some of their darkest days. And, as in days past, I know that I will find myself thinking back on this accident for the rest of the day and probably into the days to come. My heart will continue to break for the loved ones that had someone ripped from them in such a tragic way.

May we always remember, that one day we could be the ones on the receiving end of that kind of news.

Be good to each other. Love each other. Tell each other often how you feel and don’t waste a minute of the moments you have with those you care about. Life is too short…much too short for some.

98 Years Young

Carmen – my mother-in-law. She is 98 years old, feisty and definitely has a blog-worthy personality. I thought I’d share a few tidbits here and there, giving you a glimpse into her world. This isn’t anything new by any means. I’ve been texting my BFF for YEARS about all the crazy stuff that unfolds when I’m around her. The things she says and does make your head spin at times. A few years back, when she still lived in Southern California, we had to take her to the medical supply store over an issue with a commode she purchased. And the ENTIRE time on the drive there, she was royally pissed off because she forgot her cane at home. Not because she needed it to walk with, oh no, but because she wanted to beat the guy at the store with it. She was raging mad that she’d left it at home. And after having to listen to her rant about that for 20 minutes, we find out he wasn’t even working that day. Lucky for him. LOL

We moved her up to Rocklin a couple of years ago into a senior apartment. She lived on her own until in March 2017, on her 98^th birthday, she was taken to the emergency room via ambulance because she couldn’t breathe. After all the tests were run, it was determined that she had fluid on her lungs and congestive heart failure. She couldn’t understand why. We tried to gently explain to her that her heart was old and tired. She kind of balked at that, as if that scenario was hardly plausible. *sigh*

So, after her stay at the hospital (4 glorious days she kept threatening to leave), she was immediately transferred to a skilled nursing facility (against her will, she is sure to tell everyone that will listen). Here she now spends her days, discussing all of her dislikes, aches, pains and general complaints about life with like-minded individuals. It’s a joy to sit back and watch it unfold sometimes. Other times, it just drains my brain. I honestly don’t ever want to get that old. Shoot me! Please!

Seriously, they beat on each other! It’s like they are geriatric octagon cage fighters! I always say that if you were to make a soap opera about what goes on there, no one would believe it. “The Old and the Forgetful” ”As the Walker Squeaks” “All My Strained Peas”

At her age, you’d think that her mind would be going…well, it is…slowly. But not according to her. Oh no, no, no. Just ask her. She’ll tell you. Everyone else is crazy, including the staff. Oh yes! They are sometimes the biggest nut jobs of all. At least, that’s what she tries to convince us of. She will literally smack talk about someone that is standing right in front of her, and she honestly thinks they can’t hear her, just because she’s not making eye contact with them. Some days I just want the ground to open up and swallow me. Gahhhh! It’s so embarrassing! And when I tell her to be nice, she comes back with “Well, (so and so) is just nuts anyways!” Good lord! They’re right here! In front of you! But it doesn’t seem to faze her at all.

A few weeks ago, Carmen almost went to blows over a remote control. I seriously thought she was going to smack the nurse. She already has one strike against her. She can’t afford to get kicked out of the nursing home for another physical altercation. So, that one had me on edge. Good thing Glenn talked her down. He has a way of doing that. Me…after 28 years of being on the receiving end of her charm, I’ve resorted to just rolling my eyes and wanting to put an instant stop to the nonsense. Honestly, it’s like dealing with a toddler all over again.

I’m sitting here, thumbing through texts between me and my BFF to jog my memory of various “incidents”.

March 17, 2017

BFF: How’s Carmen

Me: Some good days, some bad days. Last night she was in rare form. I tried not to laugh at her, but it was difficult. Some of the stuff that was shooting out of her mouth was so ridiculous, I was crying laughing.

BFF: OMG

Me: Dude. You have no idea. I was trying so hard not to laugh, that it was actually painful. And Glenn kept giving me weird looks because I’m sure the conversation was not very comfortable for him. She was talking about her bodily functions again.

Oh yes…the “bodily functions” conversation. They are my FAVORITE! Ugh

April 15, 2017

Me: According to Carmen, the people here all have brain problems. They are “coopy”. I’m guessing that’s a combination of cookoo and loopy.

Also, her walker must be a piece of junk, since no one has taken it. Everything here is a conspiracy theory.

Yup, that’s how the wheelchair rolls. Everyone is out to get everyone else. Everyone is a thief and a liar. And now we have to be so careful in how we word things, as to not get her going on one of her rants. Nowadays, when things start to go sideways, we just change the subject. That means we really have to have a lot of tricks in our bag. You miss a beat, and she’ll leave you in the dust. You’ve got to cut that crap off at the kneecaps before it gets out of hand. We learned the hard way. Too often we’ve made the mistake in asking her to explain her side of things to us. All that does is open the door to an avalanche of drama that just escalades into a pile of you-know-what. I’ve walked out of there mentally drained. It’s exhausting to have to dodge those kind of bullets for an hour or two. But we are learning…quickly.

And then there are those days when she’s riding high on cloud nine. She cracks some funny jokes too. It makes me laugh when she’s talking about someone and says “I don’t know why she’s tripping”. Ha Ha Ha! Yeah Carmen, I don’t either.

One day, Glenn and I took her to sit outside for a while. Not sure how the conversation got on the topic of a farm. Carmen grew up on a farm in Kansas and Glenn was telling her about our chickens. Then he says to her with a total serious face “I tried to milk a chicken the other day, but I don’t think I did it right. I couldn’t get any milk.” OMG! The look she gave him was priceless. She says “What are you? Crazy? You can’t milk a chicken! You only milk cows…and maybe goats. You’re nuts!” Then it took us a while to convince her that he was just kidding. She still wasn’t sure about his sanity.

We love her and are dealing with the challenges of an aging parent the best way we know how.

So, stay tuned for upcoming snippets of Carmen’s life. I will do better in documenting some of the funny (and bizarre) stuff that happens in her world and share them with you.

Great Ball of Fire

Monday mornings are just that…Monday mornings. 5am and the alarm goes off. I question why I haven’t quit my job. Then I remember that bills continue to show up and it’s a rude reality-check that tells me why I must get up at such an ungodly hour. Ugh….

Those that know me well, husband (Glenn) and BFF (Kristine), can attest to the fact that I might be slightly, and I mean SLIGHLY, grumpy in the mornings. I’m not the kind that will jump out of bed and hit the ground running. Oh no, no, no. I leave that nonsense for someone else. Me, I like to get going slow enough to give my mind the ability to engage, before I make any sudden moves.

But here we are…the alarm has gone off and I must rise and go to work. Oh joy!

I stumble through getting dressed, make a half-ass attempt at doing something with my hair, plaster on some makeup, feed the dog and make my coffee. I think I’m ready.

On the way up the driveway, I stop to open the door of the chicken coop to let the ladies run free for the day. Here we go.

As I am driving down Meadow Vista Road, I catch my first glimpse of today’s sunrise and I literally hear myself whisper “Wow”. Quiet and reverently as not to disturb what I am seeing. It is glorious! Magical even. But the road winds through a forest of trees and I can only imagine what the sky will look like when I come out of the thicket at the end. As I approach Meadow Vista Park, I make a split-second decision to pull into the parking lot to take a minute to enjoy the view. It looks like I’m not the only one drawn in by what is happening in the Eastern sky. There are multiple cars in the parking lot. Some drivers even got out of their vehicles and are gaping at the scene in front of us. One guy specifically caught my attention. He’s standing outside the driver’s door, coffee mug in hand with his mouth WIDE open. He was rather entertaining to watch.

But looking at the sky, I can totally understand his reaction. The sun is rising amongst a sea of clouds. It reminded me of pictures I’ve seen that depict what people think it will look like when Jesus returns. I mean WOW! Everyone had their cell phones out and was busy taking pictures. Me included. I snapped a few, took another moment to say “Good morning God. Thank you for your present”, before turning back out on the road and heading to work. Driving down Placer Hills Road I’d occasionally catch another glimpse in my rear-view mirror and I already knew I wasn’t done gazing at this awesome display. I know that there is a large turnout at the freeway onramp and I’m planning on stopping there for another quick peek. Apparently, once again I’m not the only one that is in awe. Several more cars are pulled over and the same scene as at Meadow Vista park is unfolding here. I snapped a few more pictures and headed down the freeway. Already, this Monday morning was turning out to be pretty spectacular. All of a sudden, I pass an area on the freeway that has a completely unobstructed view of the sunrise and I am blown away. I make a hasty decision to take the next off-ramp and turn back on the freeway frontage road. A wise decision. I come back to the spot that sits on a slight rise and the view is just stunning. I take another moment to thank God for giving me this gift. I snap a few more pictures and decide that if I don’t commit to staying on the road, I will certainly be late for work. *sigh*

So, down the road I go. Every so often, I sneak a peek into my rear-view mirror to watch as the great ball of fire is now breaking lose from its nighttime hiding place. No longer is it painting the clouds in magical shades of orange and lavender. Now it’s taking over and stretching out its rays across the Easter sky and upwards. All too soon the magic moment is gone. But I feel blessed to have been given such a treasure today. Truly blessed. This Monday is going to be awesome. Why? Because God made sure I knew “He’s got this”. Yes…just like every other day. But today He wanted to make sure I had a bit more assurance. He wanted to make sure I had a smile on my face when I walked through the front doors of my office building. And here I am…smiling.

Good morning God. Good morning world. It’s Monday and it’s a great day!

The Confusion That Lies Within

I’m mostly known for my off-kilter humor, saying what’s on my mind, shooting off my big mouth (that clearly has NO filter), and generally not caring what anyone else thinks. But what the majority of people around me don’t know is that I am incredibly spiritual. I’m not talking about the “burning incense and seeing things” kind of spiritual. I’m talking about my deep, intense love for God. From an early age, I’ve always found myself drawn to talking to Him. Taking all of my questions and concerns to Him and knowing full well that He would always be there for me.

It was clear to me from childhood that I was not like other people. Making friends never came easy. I was always the odd one in the bunch (still find myself to be the same today). Each and every single year in school, I was the one that had her yearbook full of “Wish I could have gotten to know you. Have a great summer.” And I’m thinking to myself “I’ve been sitting next to you ALL YEAR!!! Why do you wait until now to “want to get to know me”? But, I regress….

Through all of that, I knew I could count on God. I have memories, clear as day, from when I was an early teenager, when I would question things and I knew the answers I received came from God. Even in my darkest days, I knew He was there. I wandered away from Him for many years in my late teens, through my 20’s and into my early 30’s, but looking back I can see that He never left my side. The only question I’ve asked Him as far back as I can remember, it this….”Why do you love me?” I don’t like myself. I really, truly don’t. I want to be like others. Always have. I don’t want to be loud and boisterous. I want to be quiet and respected. I want to be memorable (in a good way) and have people remember me. Let me explain….

I do know that I’m not memorable. I say that, because it’s true. People just never remember me (unless you count the times when people re-hash the stupid stuff that has come out of my mouth). Only recently, I was standing with some friends as a spectator at the Western States 100 run. One of my friends was stopped every few feet by different people she knew. I was telling her that that NEVER happens to me. “I’m not one that anyone remembers”. She thought I was exaggerating. At that exact moment, one of our long-time friends walked up and started talking to us. He never even acknowledged me. I turned to her and said “You see????” Even then, he just stared at me. It wasn’t until I said “Hey! It’s me! Birdie!” that he even recognized me (apparently it was the sunglasses and the hat, or something something something. Whatever!). Seriously, we’ve run races together, hung out and basically are not just distant acquaintances. Yup it’s a fact, I’m not memorable.

There are certain personalities that people are drawn to…I’m not one of those. My husband on the other hand is a people magnet. I suppose that’s one of the qualities I love so much about him (and I’m jealous of him for that too). As for me, I can start telling someone something, get cut off, and no one ever asks me to continue my story. Obviously, it wasn’t that interesting to begin with. No one wants to know how it ended. Because of that, I make an extra effort to have people finish telling me what they started. Not only do I truly want to know what they were trying to say, but I think it makes people feel loved and respected. At least that’s how I would feel. Maybe no one else sees it that way. But I do. My brain has it’s own way of working, I suppose.

So, I ask God why He made me that way. Why can’t I be someone that people are drawn to? Why, why, why? The answer I keep getting is “Because I love you just the way you are”.

Why God, do You love someone that says the wrong things all the time? Why do You love someone that acts so un-Christian more times than not? Why?

It’s really been only in the last month or so that I’ve found at least some answers to those questions. What I’ve found is that I shouldn’t be asking WHY He loves me, instead ask Him to help me love myself AS He loves me. I still haven’t figured out how to do that, but I’m looking at myself from a different perspective now. My mom used to say “God doesn’t make mistakes”. Therefore, I can be certain that I am the way I am, because that’s how He wants me to be. He understands when I tell Him that I don’t agree with Him. He already knew that about me. He made me that way.

I am hoping to fully understand what He sees in me and then use that knowledge to live a life that will put a great big smile on His face by being the perfect loud, eccentric, weird lunatic he created me to be.

Someday I want Him to say “Well done, my faithful servant”, or in my case “Well done, crazy chick”.