I Love My Friends

I grew up with these gals. Molly (far right in the group shot) was my neighbor from birth until age nine. We go way back. I met all of the other friends pictured during my freshman year of high school.(Kim, Shelli, Kelli and Vicki) Like I said, we all go way back. It's hard to believe it's been that long! It feels just like yesterday when we were running the roads together. Jeez, do I have some wild and crazy stories about everyone pictured, but they wouldn't be blog appropriate. (You know, my mom and kids do read here).

I sat in some candy in my white sweat suit and luckily someone had a Tide stick on hand. Man, those things are awesome. Shelli was kind enough to scrub the spot out for me. She's a true friend! No, I was not enjoying it, in spite of that smile on my face. Ha!

Alec's Birthday

Here are some pictures from the weekend at Alec's birthday party.
(Kelli's oldest son). It was fun for both the adults and the kids!

Hockey Night in Houston

My dad and I took the kids to a hockey game Friday night. It was a first for all of us. We had fun. Hockey fans have some different traditions and we got a kick out of some of them. There were lots of cow bells ringing and special hockey songs. I never knew what a zamboni was until Friday night. I'd seen one but never knew it had a special name other than an ice cleaner, and never dreamed there was actually a song about them. The game itself was very fast paced and sometimes hard for me to follow where the puck was at times, but it was enjoyable. We went into overtime and had an extra period and then got to experience "sudden death". We lost by one point. Or is it a goal? It took me a while to learn to say runs in baseball verses points and I'm not claiming to be a big hockey fan. Cassidy and Caden were disappointed that they didn't get to see some "blood". There was a lot of shoving up against the glass that got intense at times but we didn't get to see any blood.

Something to Make You Think

There is a church by our house that has some of the most thought provoking billboard signs posted out front each week. They almost always make me stop and think. I'm not sure who is behind their thought for the week, but it's always a clever message and that person really deserves a raise. The current sign says the following:

This is a CH CH

What is missing?

I went about a quarter of a mile past the sign before I finaly got it.

UR

It really hit home. I first saw it yesterday but was driving too fast to actually read and process it. As I passed it, I thought some of the letters had fallen and totally missed the message. Today I finally got it.

My Best Ever One-Liner

I know I've said before that I'm not very quick on my toes with comebacks and that they usually come to me five minutes later than when I actually needed them. However, there was one time when I produced a master piece comeback.

It was about ten years ago. My husband has always been known to be a bit of a nag. (For some reason that role was reversed in our house) He always said he had to stay on me or nothing would ever get done due to my procrastination and always running behind schedule. Anyhow, I don't recall exactly what he was griping at me about on that particular day but he was basically on me for a while about many different things. It was probably a day when he was doing yard work and I was supposed to be inside cleaning house but he caught me on the couch eating bon-bons and watching soaps or something. His philosophy on our "cleaning day" was always, if I'm out there working on the yard and the cars then you need to be in here doing the house and not camped out on the phone. He never realized I was multi-tasking and can do almost anything with a phone attached to my ear. Anyway, I honestly don't recall what he was nagging at me about but I know he wasn't holding back and I'd had enough.

I remember it like it was yesterday and actually so does he. He was standing on the front porch. We had a large concrete porch at the time. I was walking in the front door and he was saying something to me when I felt these little horns suddenly pop out of each side of my head. I felt my teeth growing into fangs. I think my fingernails even grew two inches. I felt fire roaring from deep within my chest. Try to imagine small amounts of spit spewing out of my mouth as I said it and my voice being very strained from all of the energy I was putting into it. It was sort of like yelling but more of a lower and deeper sound. Anger was radiating from within.

My exact words were, "Why don't you run on down to the feed store and pick up a saddle so you'll be more comfortable while you're riding my ass!!!!!!!!!!!!"

At that moment he realized he needed to lay off. The look on his face was priceless and one I'll never forget. We still laugh about my infamous one-liner and he'll readily admit that he had it coming. To this day it's still one of my proudest moments!

Thank You For Calling XXXXXX

We had a new phone system installed at work on Friday. Our previous one was pretty archaic. This one has four lines and a state of the art voice mail system. It came with some pretty nifty options and we're still trying to figure it all out. We now all have our own voice mail. We just had one general mailbox before.

There is nothing worse than listening to your self on a video or audiotape, or at least that's how I feel whenever I hear myself talking. It's brutal for me to watch videos of us with Lauren when she was a baby and I’m in the background cooing over her and all you can hear is my big mouth. I had the biggest country bumpkin accent you can imagine back then. I like to think that while I’ve still got a southern twang, that I’ve outgrown the one back from 1988 where I sounded like I walked straight off the farm and was dumber than a tree post. Basically, I would prefer to never have to listen to my own voice on tape for the rest of my life.

I remember the first time I ever had to record a phone message to be heard on the phone system at work. It was at a previous job. When my former boss informed me that I would be re-recording the message that was already in place and replacing the existing voice, I just felt sick at my stomach. It was a very long and wordy message and the thought of having to read a script and then be forced to hear myself anytime I called work wasn't something I looked forward to doing. I remember hoping he would just forget about it if I didn’t mention it to him but had no such luck.

One day he brought me the official script and told me to go into the conference room and get started. There were actually several different scripts that I had to record that would take people through various parts of the phone the system. The after hours, the option of selecting a specific department and let's not forget the part welcoming the caller that also required me to briefly describe and plug our product. I must've been in the conference room for hours, reading, recording and listening to each one before deciding what was acceptable and worth keeping verses starting all over and re-recording.

Friday was just about as bad, though not as lengthy as when I had to do it several years ago, except this time I wasn't given the option of doing it while alone. I had an audience, which made it worse. We were in the midst of setting up the system and the phone guy was there to instruct me on each step. He couldn’t leave until he knew we were all squared away. I also had other people in and out of my office, which only made it worse. There were a few times when my co-worker changed the script in the midst of the process and scribbled the change while the automated system was instructing me on what button to push next. I was trying to listen to the robot lady and read what new change he'd made at the same time. With all of the chaos I would mess up and we'd both start laughing in the midst of it.

I thought I was going to get out of it altogether this time because at first my boss wanted to keep Brian's voice on there, but then he thought better of it and decided a woman's voice would be a better image to portray for the company. I was so bummed when he changed his mind. Anyhow, I haven't yet had to call and hear myself (I can’t bear to) and am dreading the day when I do. Call me silly, but hearing myself talk isn't one of my favorite things to do. I’m sure a few of my real life friends and family feel the exact same way! I guess it could be worse if I sounded like Janice from "Friends", but even I don't sound quite that annoying.

Good Times and The Kid in Me

Cassidy and I had to go up to my work last night to borrow the paper cutter to use for her history fair project. The building was dark and empty and I made her go with me because I knew I would get the creeps going in there alone at night. Being in an empty office building does bring out the kid in me, though. I usually have a strong urge to just start running around.

It always takes me back to when I was a kid. I spent many hours at my mom’s office after hours. My mom worked at our church so it was like having full access to a whole world of fun. I used to walk there after school and hang out until it was time to go home.

I had so many options of things to do while I was there. I would often invite a girl to come along who walked home the same way I did. Her family owned the small Mexican restaurant located across from the church so we used to alternate going to the church to play or to the restaurant and pretending to "wait" tables. Sometimes I'd bring other friends along that lived nearby but many times it was just me.

I preferred having a friend because otherwise, I wasn’t brave enough to play in the empty building alone. It was a large church with four separate buildings, all large in size. We could go down to the nursery and play with the dolls. They had cribs, swings, walkers, etc. and we could play nursery or house, or use one of the many empty Sunday school classrooms and play school. We could go over to the gym and play volleyball or basketball. The gym also had a big cafeteria style kitchen and a fully furnished upstairs like apartment with couches, a kitchen and tables that we could play house in. Whenever I was there alone I used to follow the janitors around and talk their ears off. I would help them clean but eventually get preoccupied with my own entertainment. I was like their shadow. I’d follow them from room to room and do my own thing. While they cleaned the Sanctuary I'd play the organ or piano or run around up and down the pews or the stage. It was really cool to have access to everything while it was empty. If the janitors weren't there and I ended up all alone I'd just play "office" or "secretary" in one of the empty offices near my mom's, or read a book in the library. I never recall being bored when I was there.

A few years ago my husband had an extra job working security at an empty chemical plant. The plant had closed and was on the market to sell but they were keeping 24-hour security on site until it sold. The officer's who worked there had set up a little office with a couch, computer and DVD player and all they really had to do was make sure no one came onto the property without permission. It was a piece of cake job for them. The place was huge and almost completely empty. There were a few desks and chairs left but almost everything had been sold.

I used to take the kids up there to hang out and keep him company on Friday nights. After our first few visits we decided to take the dogs. We had a blast. We used the empty conference room to play paper baseball. The dogs ran around not sure what to think of all the empty space. The kids and I always played hide and seek and the dogs would try to keep up. What must've been a chemical laboratory was empty and really spooky looking. I would hide in there and then when the kids would come looking for me I'd pretend I was going to "cook" them in this big glass stove looking thing that was scary looking even to me. We'd run from room to room and chase each other. It was so much fun.

Out in the actual "plant" it was like a three story warehouse looking place with showers to be used for chemical spills and several of these huge empty containers where they mixed chemicals. They had ladders going down to the bottom on the inside. The thought of someone crawling down into one of those things made me feel weak in the knees. The inside of this thing resembled a giant blender with the metal blades that were built into the bottom. It had a lid on top that opened and when I looked down into this thing I wanted to faint! It's amazing to think that we're surrounded by chemical plants around here and for many people close to me climbing into one of those containers would be the norm.

The dogs would run the grounds with us and the feeling of having this huge, empty facility to ourselves totally brought out the kid in me. Those are some good memories. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and the plant eventually sold. It sure made for some cheap Friday night entertainment for me and the kids while it lasted. I think my husband even enjoyed it. We never got him to play hide and seek but he was all for the paper baseball.

Watch Your Step, MeMe!

My poor mother suffered quite a fall down the hardwood stairs at my brother's home this morning. We're still not sure if my sister-in-law pushed her or oiled down the stairs yet. HA!

Actually, we're all laughing about it now but apparently it wasn't pretty. She spent the night over there last night to help out with the kids this morning. She was coming down the stairs and when she got to the landing she missed the first step and fell face first all the way down. The stairs are hardwood and so is the floor at the bottom. She landed face down, arms spread and the top of her head actually cracked the wooden hall tree that sat at the base of the stairs. It could've been much worse but she's okay. She's scraped, bruised and sore but nothing is broken.

We are warped and always laugh at this kind of stuff after the fact. My niece and sister-in-law thought she was going to be covered in blood when she lifted her head but she wasn't. She wouldn't let them help her up (she's too ticklish) and needed a moment to recover before trying to turn herself over and get up.

I talked to her earlier and asked her if it hurt while it was happening or only afterwards. She laughed at the question and indicated it was indeed quite painful. She mentioned feeling her b**bs hitting each step all the way down. Ouch!

I'm glad you're okay, mom! I love you. P.S. Are you going to sue them? HA!

I Am Alive!

I have been totally neglecting the blog lately. There are a lot of things going on in my life these days and I haven't had much time on my hands to construct anything worthy of reading. Add to that my "writer's block" or "brain fart" and it's not a good combination. I'm working on it and hope to have something better than this to share soon. If not, please bear with me. I'll come around sooner or later!

Cassidy's wearing around her brand new and identical Nike Shocks (compliments of MeMe and PawPaw). She learned a very valuable lesson about how thieves come in all shapes and sizes. I got on to Caden tonight after he pulled his wallet from his backpack, which contained over $80 in cash. He'd been carrying it to and from school all week but had it "hidden" away in his zipper pocket. I almost lost it while she lectured him on child thieves and how ruthless they are and how kids could easily search through the pockets for stuff and take it.

We sold all of the baseball candy in record time and I'm proud to say that I never ate a bite of any of it. That's a first!

Lauren's got bronchitis and every time she talks my chest hurts. Her raspy man voice hasn't deterred her from conversing, though. She got a shot in her booty today and I had to hold her hands. She takes after her mother when it comes to needles and pain. We faced each other and I made ugly faces at her while she winced in pain. It was kind of funny.

This is our third week battling sickness. It's been a variety of stuff and I'd just like a week without someone having an issue of any kind. HA!

On a positive note, we're finally having some nice weather after three plus weeks of cold and rainy days. I love the rain but it was too much for even me. It's been nice to actually need my sunglasses again.

If I'm not back around in the next week my writer's block might be more permanent than expected and I might need reinforcements.

Too Much Crap!

It’s time for some whining. I just need to vent about some of the annoying habits of my boss and co-worker. It’s only a three-person office so I don’t have too much to complain about. It’s really not a big deal but you know how spending eight hours a day with someone can reveal so much about a person.

I think I’ve already mentioned that I hate it when people clip their fingernails at work. The sound is like nails running down a chalkboard for me. I also hate it when people need to blow their nose but instead of going to the bathroom to do it they just sit there and snort in and out, trying to reposition the blob of mucus in their nostrils. That’s not a pleasant thing to listen to either. I hate it when I’m on the phone and someone is trying to tell me something and I can’t follow both conversations, but God forbid you quietly bring in a note with a name on it and quietly slide it in front of them while on they're on the phone. They act like you’re the rudest person ever.

I actually have a great boss. He’s a very nice man. He’s just very anal and particular. My biggest pet peeve these days is the fact that no one (except me) believes in throwing anything away. The office is nicely decorated with expensive furniture and paintings. We use a label maker to make all of our files so they sit neatly in the filing cabinets. It’s just the fact that we save almost every piece of paper that comes through that office by mail, via fax or any other method of receipt. The filing cabinets are full of unnecessary information, we're running out of room and the clutter is beginning to grate on my nerves.

The office procedures were already in full operation before I came on board so I’m still trying to figure out a way to implement my “just toss it in the trash” way of thinking. We host financial planning seminar’s, therefore, my boss believes that we should save every single invitation that we receive to other seminar’s to be used as references for future invitations we might wish to create. That, is just one of many the things that we save. We have an armoire stacked with old message books. You know, the carbon copy type. When we fill them up we don’t throw them away, we stack them and save them for years in case we need to backtrack and see where someone left a message back in 2003. You now, just in case we need to check our facts! We receive a variety of post cards with investment information from all sorts of big investment firms, and we must save and file each of those post cards, just in case we need them. Most of the information on the post cards is very generic and appears to be of little relevance. To top it off, each company must have their very own green hanging file folder and label, though we might only have three post cards from them with little useful information listed on the mail outs. I think they both have pack-rat syndrome. My boss is notorious for paper clipping the envelope that something was mailed in to the paperwork, too. Yeah, like we might need to reference that one day, too! I could understand if it was sent certified mail or something. I promise, I'm not exaggerating about this clutter situation.

I’m all about having back up to CYA but the procedures we practice are beyond over the top. I have offered to clean out the files but have been told we must all do it together because there are some pieces that we must “archive” in case we need them. The H-L drawer is so full that I have suffered paper cuts from trying to wedge my hand in far enough to file a post card in there. We have a fax file, an email file and plenty of other back up files. Then, just to be sure we aren’t slipping through the cracks, we also back-up our software to a CD every week. Like I said, CYA, but don’t be ridiculous. Our literature closet is stacked full and most of it is outdated but we "might" need to reference something in the future so we have to hang on to it. It’s wearing me out because I just want to trash 90% of the crap lying around.

By law we’re required to record and document much of the information and communication that takes place between us and our client’s. We have a special form that the correspondence is noted on. I then log the information into our system but we also keep a paper copy of the actual notes in a file. My boss will make notes that are so specific that he will literally log every single detail of a call or meeting with a client. For example, “John left a voice mail for Jane Doe @ 8:20am regarding her mutual fund, Jane returned the call @ 3:20pm. We discussed the cruise she just enjoyed to Alaska. (As I’m logging this information I want to pull my hair out strand by strand) Jane coughed three times during our phone call and sneezed twice. She is suffering from bronchitis and will call us back in one to two weeks once she has recovered and gotten back into the swing of things. Jane’s call waiting beeped in twice and I was put on hold while she answered the calls. I heard Jane's dog barking in the background. Jane and I decided she would leave her funds alone until she was feeling better and able to make clearer financial decisions". I log the information then file the hard copy and also back up the software twice a week. I walk around just wanting to start trashing the mounds of useless and outdated paperwork. However, in spite of feeling that way I am grateful for my job and do work with very nice people. They, like most people, just have some annoying qualities. Gawd, I hope they never find my blog because I really do like my job!

More Saturday Night Bowling

Saturday Night Bowling

Cassidy's Not So Good Week

Cassidy has had a bad week. It all started Friday night when she went to the skating rink and came out crying when I picked her up. Her Nike Shocks, that were a Christmas present that she wore proudly and absolutely adored, were stolen from a cubby. Yes, a cubby. The lockers were full so she was stuck with only a cubby. Had I known that she never would’ve worn them in the first place. We joined the owner to watch surveillance video for evidence of the actual theft, along with another family whose son had inline skates stolen, too. We actually saw them being taken but without video enhancement techniques from the FBI (ha) there was no solid proof that they were indeed her shoes and the girl who took them wasn’t identified as a regular. Basically, there was nothing we could do. I suppose she learned a valuable lesson, but I sure hated it for her. You would understand if you’d seen the excitement on her face and heard all of the gratitude she expressed over getting these shoes. She wore them around the house for days and must’ve thanked us for them 100 times. She went on and on about them being perfect. She couldn’t wait to get back to school over the holidays to show them off. That’s what made it such a hard lesson to see her to learn. She should’ve worn her play shoes to the skating rink that night but hindsight’s always 20/20, right?

I’d just bought myself some new Skecher tennis shoes, which doesn’t happen very often, and she’s been borrowing those and wearing them all week. That really sucks for me! Now my shoes will be worn out in two weeks. I’m working on getting her a new pair but they’re a bit pricey and money doesn’t grown on trees around here.

I can’t help but wonder what the thief’s parents think about their kid showing up at home with new high dollar tennis shoes. “Ummmm, hey Katie, where’d you get those cool shoes?” “Oh, I borrowed them from Sarah”. Six months later when Katie still has those shoes are they supposed to assume they were a gift? Makes you wonder about the parents, huh?

Yesterday there were several broken pencils lying on the coffee table when I got home. I almost trashed them but something told me not to. When Cassidy walked in later she picked them up and informed me that these were just a few of the items thrown at her on the bus today and that she’s tired of it. She’s actually a “cool” and popular girl in her school who never gets in trouble (outside of home, ha!) but none of her friends ride her bus. She’s not usually one to get picked on and can almost always hold her own. It seems as if she has found herself in an intimidating situation for once in her life. She asked me to call and “do something about it” tomorrow because they were also throwing ballpoint pens at her without the lids on them and she said she’s had enough. The bus driver is a nice man but just ignores it. I called the school this morning and was told they'd call her down to get more details and get back to me but they didn't do either. I better hear something back tomorrow before she comes home missing an eye. I hope her week improves soon but guess things could always be worse.

The Candy Man

We just loathe fundraisers at this house. Well, at least the adults do. We're all about supporting the school and extra-curricular activities but we'd just prefer to write a check and be done with it in one shot. Why pester your neighbors or family members to buy stuff that their kids are probably selling, too? There are exceptions to this rule, such as brisket sales, candle sales and other major fundraisers, but we boycott most of the catalogs fundraisers. What a big fat rip off! The organization doesn’t usually even make that much in profit to begin with.

We often opt to “buy out” on the candy sales for baseball every year because we usually end up eating most of the candy ourselves and using the few dollars we’ve actually earned for lunch money and stuff. Then when the money is actually due, I’ll just end up writing a big fat $75 or $100 check when we could’ve just paid half that amount in the beginning to “buy out” and been done with it.

Actually, we’ve done it both ways over the many years we’ve spent playing ball and every time I’m writing that check, I’m kicking myself. This year, I opted for selling the candy over the “buy out” because I was already forced to pay additional late sign-up fees and the “selling” amount just seemed like the better option. Plus one of my friends insisted that she could sell both boxes at her work. Thanks, Kelli! Of course, she has to sell her son’s two boxes first. This is one of those times when I miss working in a big office with people just dying to buy candy throughout the day.

The kids are always so excited about selling candy and dying to tear open the boxes and start hitting the neighborhood immediately. Like I said, that’s great, until we start using the cash in a pinch and the money starts to slowly dwindle from the envelope. It’s always one box of candy bars that sell for $1.00 and one box of chocolate covered almonds that sell for $2.00. Sure, that’s a real bargain when you’re buying one or two boxes but not all fifty or seventy-five!

Caden was so excited about us not buying out this year that he made this sign in preparation for his upcoming candy sales. I couldn’t help but laugh at his creativity. I just know he’s going to be my little entrepreneur and make us rich one day. I just love candy sales!

In Loving Memory of Jamie Louise Ball (11-07-1969 - 1-21-2006)

My sister-in-law, Jamie, died one year ago tomorrow at the very young age of thirty-six. She left behind seven beautiful children and a loving husband. Her oldest child was only eleven-years-old and her youngest eighteen-months. She died of cancer. She was an absolutely beautiful person and wonderful Christian. Please keep Paul in your prayers as I know tomorrow will be a tough day for him. He spent the last four months of her life with her in New York caring for her, the children and helping his son-in-law through the painful ordeal of losing his wife. Jamie and I were only two weeks apart in age and thirty-six was way too young for her to die. She was an absolute beautiful and unique soul. I have no doubt about where she is spending eternity.

I can’t help but think of her as the one-year anniversary of her passing is upon us.
God bless those she left behind and give them strength, especially tomorrow, as they miss her each and every day. It was an honor to know you, Jamie. You touched us all and we will always love you until we meet again.

God Bless Brad, Bradley, Ryan, Teresa, Hannah, Anthony, Andrew & Leevin.
RIP, Jamie.

My Big Texas Hair (Christmas 1988)

Korea

Our apartment. (Third floor, far left window)

Us hanging out on the roof of our apartment. (aka as our yard, since we didn't have one) Notice we're BBQ'ing.

Look to the left of those suitcases and you can see the tiny edge of our itsy bitsy kitchen.

Lauren sitting on our fine looking sofa.

Thank God for Scanners!

Teresa & Doug
Teresa & Carri
1980 something...................

Hey, Teedee!
Memories are sweet, huh?
I love you!

The Drawing

My son is working on a project and came to me for help drawing some of the picture's from the book he's reading. He was frustrated with himself and discouraged that he isn't good at drawing. I encouraged him and told him he was good at drawing and that I'd help him finish the project today. I'm not a very good artist myself but I'll do what I can.

He brought this picture out to show me the night that Kelli and Shelli were over. Please understand that I'm not making fun of his drawing skills here, only what came to my mind when I first looked at the picture. He said it was a teacher sitting down in a chair and he wasn't happy with how it had turned out. The poor guy thought we were laughing at him (and we tried hard to control our laughter for his sake). I reassured him that we weren't laughing at him or his drawing and he was okay.

Here is the drawing. Look at the teacher sitting in her chair on the right side of the picture. Does it remind you of anything? No further explanation needed for the laughter, right?

How I Spent My Sunday

Sunday was a great day. It was both productive and fun. Kelli and I decided that we would go to Home Depot to buy some foam to cover our pipes in preparation for Houston’s supposed upcoming “big freeze” and split the cost to rent a machine to shampoo both of our carpets.

We started at Kelli’s house first. I’m such a lightweight. I did her son’s room and almost died from lifting up and pulling on the machine. Kelli gets all of the credit here. She was a trooper and did 90% of both of our homes. I get credit for moving furniture and clearing the floors!

Shelli (Kelli’s twin sister) came over later to help supervise. I offered to make dinner and got out some Talapia, which I’d heard was an awesome tasting fish but had never eaten it until last night. I was just going to bake it with some butter and seasoning but ended up letting Betty Crocker take over. That would be Kelli, but they’re both very good cooks. She crushed up some Ritz crackers and added Parmesan cheese for the crust on the fish. It was to die for. We had steamed broccoli and garlic mashed potatoes and all ate like pigs. It was delicious. My kids and I were quite impressed with dinner and offered to let Kelli come over and cook for us every night. Her kids are picky eaters so she doesn’t cook as much as she’d like to. She seemed to appreciate the fact that we all cleaned our plates, especially Shelli. Lauren told her she could just lick her plate after she was the first to finish (I mean devour) her food without leaving a crumb. I highly recommend Talapia and Kelli’s crust concoction.

I had a lot of fun and bonding time with the twins yesterday and laughed a lot. It also felt good to get those carpets cleaned. (That's Kelli and I pictured above from Friday night. I don't have a picure of Shelli to post but they're twins, so just imagine two Kelli's. Ha!) Thanks, Kelli. I know you have to be sore today. Just from my small efforts with that machine I can hardly move my arm so I can just imagine how you must feel. They’re both such good friends. I cannot close without sharing a gross story that was told yesterday, though. It actually made me gag. I had to run to the bathroom but luckily didn’t throw up. Consider this your warning to stop reading now if you have a weak stomach.

Kelli works at a law firm. One time she had a bad cold and very runny nose. You know how we all wipe our nose with the back of our hand if it’s just dripping but we don’t actually blow it or use a Kleenex? We just use the side of our hand to wipe it because it’s only a drip? Well, she did just that, not realizing that she’d gotten a booger stuck somewhere to her hand, which ultimately ended up on a piece of paper that she had given to one of the attorney’s. A short time later the attorney walked over to her desk with the paper in his hand and asked Kelli if she had wiped a booger on it. They all joke around in the office but this wasn’t something she was willing to admit to so she firmly denied it and said, “No!” He believed her and said that it must’ve been some of the sticky glue stuff that gets stuck to things and then preceded to try and pick it off. Him trying to pick it off of the paper was the part of the story that caused me to start gagging but I was also laughing so hard my stomach hurt. Shelli or I one said, “OMG, he was rolling your booger around. ICK”. It was so funny. Sorry Kelli, but that was too good not to share. She gave me copyrights but said I had to exclude her name, but I couldn’t do that! What fun would that be? No one from your firm reads here, right? Your secret is safe here. Ha!

Three Things That Made Me Laugh Out Loud

I was out this evening and Lauren was in charge of the kids. Cassidy worked on her History Fair book report. Her topic was Brian Piccolo. I’d never heard of him until we went to the library to research him and was quite impressed with his story. You might’ve heard of “Brian’s Song,” which was made into a movie.

After I arrived home, she gave me the report to read and considered it done. She’d used spell-check and told me not to bend or crinkle the papers as I read through it. Within the first three sentences I discovered a humorous error. She was comparing the attention paid to Brain Piccolo’s Hodgkin’s disease to the attention and knowledge paid to “All Timers” instead of Alzheimer’s. I corrected her and couldn’t help but laugh. What made it funnier was when she said, “I told you so” to Lauren. Lauren had told her to use the spell check and it would catch all of her errors. She’d asked Lauren what it was called and Lauren had said just type “all timer’s”. Well, all and timer's didn’t show up, so needless to say she had to reprint a revised copy of the report.

The second laugh I had tonight was when my son, Caden, was telling a story to all of us about his “Pal”. A “Pal” is a high school student who comes to the elementary each week to read books to the students. He very non-chalantly told us the following story. He recently approached his “Pal” and ran through a list of names of the high school kids that he had connections to, Lauren, her friends, my nephews, etc. to see if he knew any of them. Well, when he named Lauren’s boyfriend, Travis, the “Pal” said, “Oh, I don’t like him. Go on.” Travis is the absolute nicest guy there is, (next to my dad) and this was somewhat amusing and shocking to us all to hear. Travis didn’t even know who the guy was and insisted that Lauren go get the yearbook to see if it might trigger a memory of him. We all laughed because Lauren said there had to be some mistake because everyone loved Travis and that that was why he won “Most Handsome”, not because he was actually "most handsome". Okay, maybe this isn’t as funny as it was at the time, but I was totally cracking up at how upset and bothered by this that Travis actually was. I’m afraid he’s going to be up all night worrying about why this senior in high school doesn’t like him and he doesn’t even remember the guy. You’d have to know Travis to fully appreciate this story. Lauren remembers the guy and says he had to be joking with Caden. Caden insisted his "Pal" was serious. I told Caden to tell his “Pal” that Travis was his “bud” and not to talk bad about him again. Ha! Okay, you’d have to know Caden to know that as much as he worships Travis, he wouldn’t want to go there with anyone. He’s a peacemaker and rule follower and thinks everyone should just love one another.

My final story might gross you out, like it did Caden. I was washing my face and getting ready for bed in MY bathroom tonight when Cassidy came in to talk to me about something. I was in the process of changing from my shirt into my nightshirt when Caden suddenly appeared. He never walks in on me without giving me a heads up but it just sort of happened tonight. We both let out a sort of wail and he took off running straight to the living room to share the nightmare with Lauren and Travis. Cassidy said, “He’s telling them what just happened.” It’s not a very good feeling when you are naked from the waist up, drying your face off in a towel and when you open your eyes you’re staring at your 10-year-old son. I sure hope he doesn’t have nightmares tonight, but I might!

Our Trip

We had a blast!

The girls made me look like the energetic one out of the bunch, which is CRAZY! When I vacation I am so all about no schedules and sleeping in, going with the flow, no pressure to get anywhere. I went downstairs on Monday (around 10:30am) to get coffee and check out the weather and tourist information and when I returned to the room they'd turned off the TV and gone back to sleep. Believe me, I was tempted to crawl back into bed with them, but I jumped into the shower and started getting ready. That is so not normal for me. We were all pretty exhausted from not getting any sleep the night before we left and the broken up naps we gotten throughout our flight, but I knew we'd hate ourselves if we didn't get out there and take in the scenery.

Brittnie (I spelled it wrong in my last entry) is my ideal travel companion. She's so my kind of traveler and likes to sleep as much as I do. Lauren and I got along great, too. We did some serious bonding and she even forgave me for getting lost and almost making them late for their show.

We toured Ohio State University campus, downtown and German Village. It was so COLD. We decided that the cold weather agrees with us and we love how our hair never frizzed up on us so we're considering just moving up north! Every time I've ever visited somewhere up north I have "good hair days". I don't think it's very fair that we to have suffer the consequences humidity in Texas and what it does to one's hair.
Lauren must've said fifty times, "I cannot believe that my hair still looks like it did when we left today. That never happens at home. That's it, I'm moving up here".

The city was so quaint and the downtown area had the cutest houses and brick streets. The people were very friendly, except for staff at one White Castle where we had lunch. We were so impressed with the cute little burgers that we wanted to take pictures of the menu and the girl said we weren't allowed to take pictures in there. Don't even get me started on that! Brittnie asked me later what she was going to do to us if we did, confiscate our camera? She took a picture of her tray of food anyway. Go Brittnie! I've eaten at a White Castle before but the girls had not. I wish we had them in Houston. Lauren and I ate on $6 and were totally stuffed.

The bars and pubs across from the campus were packed as the students and fans prepared to watch the big game. I guess the RED souvenirs that I bought for the kids will not be as impressive after the loss.

It was a great trip and I'm glad I went.

Columbus, Here We Come!

I will be leaving in about three more hours with Lauren and her friend Brittany for Columbus, Ohio. This wasn't a trip I was thrilled about to begin with but I am pretty excited about it now. It all came about after Lauren decided she was going to go see “Dancing With the Stars” on tour. They purchased tickets to the show before planning any other part of their trip.

It was decided that I would be joining them after it became apparent these two had no business going alone. They're too young to rent a car and would've been staying somewhere in the downtown district relying on the foot mobile and taxi's for their transportation. To be perfectly honest, Lauren can't find her way out of a brown paper bag. I'm not kidding! I can't count the calls I've gotten from her, lost, in a completey different direction and location than she’d set out for. Plus, they're both very pretty girls and I couldn't help but worry about what could happen to them if they were all alone in a hotel coming and going from various places, so I signed on as “chaperone”.

I'm not a fan of the show so I saved my $60 and will be skipping the performance. Besides, they bought their tickets before it was known that I would be going and I would've been stuck sitting by myself. We'll shop, eat, take in some sights and hopefully enjoy the heated pool at the hotel. We’ll only be gone two nights.

Lauren takes after me and totally procrastinates. I work more efficiently under pressure. We both waited until the last minute to start packing. She actually has a load of clothes in the dryer now that need to be added to her suitcase. I decided I’d just stay up since I was only going to get about two hours of sleep but she went on to bed about an hour ago. I have to hit the shower soon but finally got all packed. I’m exhausted but will have no problems sleeping on the plane. She promised to nudge me if I start to snore, which is highly likely.

I’m taking my laptop and if I have a chance will post some pictures of our trip. I have some friends in Ohio but they all live a few hours away, so unfortunately, I won’t be seeing any of them. I think we’ll have a great time and maybe even get in some real mother and daughter bonding time. We didn’t even argue tonight while packing, which was remarkable. As a matter of fact, I'd say we bonded.

Speechless

This morning was supposed to be my favorite radio segment "War of the Roses" but they had to improvise due to some technical issues. Instead they had people call in to share outrageous or rude things that have been said to them by other's. They wanted to hear about the kind of comments that leave most people stunned with their jaw hanging on the floor. Unfortunately, I'm not too quick on my toes when caught off guard and need a moment to process the situation. I wish good comebacks would just roll off of my tongue but they usually don't. I always think of the perfect one after the fact.

The show got me to thinking about things that have been said to me before. So far, I have only thought of two but I'm hoping more will come to mind before I finish this. If not, then feel free to share yours in the comment section.

I stayed home with my kids and did my share of the room mom and school volunteer thing until my son was in first grade. I had gotten a job that was almost an hour’s drive from home and since my husband worked closer to home and had two weekdays off per week, he took on more of my former role with the kid’s teacher conferences and forgetting lunch money kind of stuff. I started that job in March so he took over at the end of the year. When school started the following year we took the kids together to drop them off on the first day. As we passed this one teacher my husband stopped to introduce me and he said, Mrs. XX, have you met my wife? Caden's mom". Her response was "Oh, I didn't know Caden had a mom." I was speechless and let the comment get to me more than it should have. It turned out she wasn't very nice to begin with as I learned later during future meetings that I made sure to attend after that!

I'm not sure if I wrote about this guy in my previous "Office" entry, but if not, I should've. He was the office flirt/pervert. The guy who thought he was so funny and would stand at your desk chatting with you for half an hour and you really couldn't follow his humor. The women would duck when he headed their way. My back had gone out and I'd missed some work. It was somewhat apparent I wasn't 100 percent normal yet so he started up a conversation with me about bad backs one day while I was standing at the copier. He wanted to give me the name of a good massage therapist his wife had seen. Then he just blurts out, "My wife has big busts like you do and I think it contributes to her back problems". Again, speechless!

My weight fluctuates like a see-saw and during one of my more pudgier stages, my mother-in-law asked me "What happened to your waiste? You're too pretty to let yourself go." We really do love each other, I promise. I didn't eat very much of my meal that day!

If I think of anymore I will add them. Come on, what do you guys have???

Taboo

I got into my car today for lunch and kept hearing this faint but very annoying buzzing noise that seemed to be coming from somewhere in the backseat. At first I couldn’t figure out if something was wrong with my car or if there was just a toy wedged somewhere behind the seat or in the backseat console. It seemed to increase in intensity whenever I would come to a stop. The noise itself and not being able to identify the cause was driving me nuts. I finally determined it wasn't related to the car when I turned off my engine while stopped at a red light and the buzzing continued.

When I left work this evening I crawled into my back seat and started rummaging through the back seat console, digging under the seats and reaching into every pocket and crevice as I tried to locate the culprit of the annoying buzzing. I couldn’t find a thing.

As I drove home the buzzing continued. I decided that I would send my son out to search the car like a scavenger as soon as I got home, assuming it was one of his toys stuck somewhere back there with a battery going nuts on us. I kept trying to identify the familiar noise when suddenly, I knew exactly what it was. I’d packed some board games into my trunk to take over to my brother’s house on New Year's Eve and one of those games was Taboo. The little buzzer was shifting around inside of the box and was stuck with the batteries dying and slowly growing dimmer. Problem solved and my sanity remains intact, as if there was ever any question about that!

Angels Among Us (By Lauren L.)

This was written by my oldest daughter for an English class during her Junior year of high school. This story took place in July 2004 as my parents and the two oldest grandkids were enroute to the annual summer camping trip that I have referenced many times before here on the blog. She made an A on her paper.

Angels Among Us
I have always believed in angels. Most people do, right? If you were raised in a religious family, or even just to believe that there is a God, then odds are you believe in angels. However, do you believe angels can ascend from Heaven to help us profound times of need? Sure, you see it on T.V. shows, and hear stories from other people. I had always thought it was possible, but it never happened to me, at least not until that summer.
We were on our way to the western part of Texas. It was nighttime, and I was in the backseat of an old white F-150 that belonged to my cousin DJ, who was seated comfortably in the driver’s seat with his girlfriend, Stacie, next to him. I can still hear vividly the walkie-talkie, and taste the beef jerky we were snacking on as we passed through the small town of Luling, Texas, on our 5-hour trip to Garner State Park.
We were following my MeMe & Pawpaw, my mother’s parents, as they pulled their brand new travel trailer with their Ford Expedition. As 18-wheelers approached, I never ceased to hear the ‘chhh’ “18-wheeler coming up on the left” followed by another ‘chhh’ sound. DJ was warning my Pawpaw so he could drift to the right and avoid getting sucked in by the big trucks as they drove by. Stacie and I were engaged in some deep conversation when it was abruptly broken by my cousin’s screaming voice. I look up. No, I am dreaming, this cannot be real. Four 18-wheelers drive by faster than my eyes can comprehend, the trailer gets sucked into the wind, it jackknives, and they start swerving uncontrollably. Though I don’t believe anything I am seeing, everything is so vivid. Sparks start flying all over the road, and the one thing I was praying would not happen was playing before my eyes. The flipping. “Oh my God!” I must have screamed a hundred times. The Expedition, with the trailer still attached, was flipping-one, two, three, four, five—at least five times in front of me. DJ drives the truck off the road and we hit a small tree. He jumps out yelling to Stacie, “Call 911!” and he loses his shoes in the waist high grass. I quickly follow him in disbelief of what I just saw. I stop at the edge of the road and let DJ continue to run, for fear of what I may find ahead of me.
I thought they were dead, they had to be. How could someone survive what I just saw? A million thoughts are racing through my mind. My grandparents that I love more than life itself were just thrown into the grassy median right before my eyes. I pray to myself and look up to see DJ running back yelling, “They’re awake, they’re okay!” I wake up and come to realization. I run to the car and tears burst from my eyes as I talk to my grandparents, covered in blood, asking for help. I run back across the highway to retrieve some clothes or rags, anything my Pawpaw could use to cover his head and stop the blood flow. Stacie is on the phone with 911, frantically trying to figure out what mile marker we are at. A trucker pulled over soon after the crash, and was by our side in an instant telling Stacie where we were and how he couldn’t believe what he saw. He was somewhat short, hadn’t shaved in maybe 5 days, and was wearing a funny looking hat. I was in a state of shock, and muttered to myself how ironic it was that we sat down in the living room and said a prayer before we left. He looked at me with a smile on his face and recited a Bible verse. I was taken aback, and he could tell by the look on my face. He said it again, and I felt so moved by him, but I was in a hurry and had no time to comprehend the words he was saying to me. He stayed the whole time, until my grandparents were taken away in the ambulances, just watching from the side of the road, as if he was just observing everything taking place. Once my grandparents were safely on their way to the hospital, we spoke again. He told me his name, one I have forgotten because it was such a strange one I had never heard before, and gave me God’s blessing. I told him how grateful I was for his generosity and continued picking up all the luggage thrown from the trailer. Before I knew it, the man was nowhere to be found. That night was the worst of my life, and ironically the best. My grandparents lived through such a horrible experience, and came out much better than we expected. My Pawpaw suffered some cuts, a broken finger, and some compressed vertebrae. My MeMe, on the other hand, shattered her shoulder bone and is still going to physical therapy, but doing so much better.
Though I cannot remember his name, or the Bible verse he so calmly recited to me in a time of panic and distress, I will never forget the man who stopped to help us that night for the rest of my life. He was there before anyone showed up, and stayed until my grandparents were taken away. His calm presence was so comforting, and I thank God he was there. Even though I will probably never see this man again as long as I live, he most certainly had an impact on me. Was he an angel? I’ll never know for sure, but I know what I believe. Do I believe in angels? Of course, I always have. Do I believe God sends them with a guiding light to your rescue in times of misfortune? Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

My Foiled Attempt at Trying to be Hip

A few years ago when the saying "My Bad" became popular, I'd heard it referenced in movies and from the kids for some time. After hearing it for a while, I was able to determine that it meant something along the lines of "Ooops, I'm sorry" or "Sorry that was my fault". I've never been one to practice using the latest hip lingo or slang terminology and this will give you a good idea as to why.

One day I threw a kitchen towel or something at my husband but it was a bad throw and ended up hitting him in the face. With it having been an accident I wanted to acknowledge my error and bad throw so I said, "Sorry, my bag." He looked at me real funny and as soon as he said, "What did you just say?", and I saw that smirk on his face, I knew immediately that I'd just totally screwed up. He asked me again what I'd just said. I very reluctantly answered, "My bag", as if in more of a question form and almost apologetic. He started laughing hysterically and informed that it was actually "My bad" and made fun of me for days to come.

As I've said before, you have to be able to laugh at yourself and a good laugh is almost always worthy of sharing with at least someone. The one and only person I chose to tell this story to was my sister and she was sworn to secrecy. We had a good laugh at my expense and I thought that would be the end of it.

Months passed and I'd all but forgotten about my little slip of the tongue until one day when my sister's middle son decided to mock me. They were at my house when he slipped up by saying, "Oh, my bag" to me. I turned around with my mouth wide open. My sister had that “deer caught in the headlights stare” knowing she'd just been busted for telling anyone my embarrassing story. She tried defending herself and claimed she couldn't pass it up, that it was just too funny. Making it worse, she'd told all three of her boys and her husband and my kids were now asking for the details.

It became the norm for all of the kids to harass me about it at any and every possible opportunity. Every time I turned around I was hearing one of them say, "My bag". It died down some over the years, but every time I think they've finally forgotten it, one of them still goes there. (Even as recently as Christmas Eve!)

Up until last summer it had remained a joke only between my kids and three nephews, but that all changed during our annual camping trip. We go with a large group of people every year and there are easily thirty kids within our group. Apparently, one of my precious, beloved nephews decided to share the "My bag" story with all of the other teenagers during the trip and my little secret was out. I couldn't walk past a kid without hearing "My bag" during the entire trip. I tried the ignoring method but it just wasn't effective.

I'm sure the eulogy at my funeral will go something like this: "Well, she might've been our crazy aunt, but we'll always remember her fondly for that old saying "My bag". Now I stick with phrases that are more my style.

Merry Christmas!

The Panari Tribe

Updated: Photo of the Panari Tribe

On my side of the family there are ten grandchildren ranging in ages from twenty-years old down to one-year-old. The twenty-year old still thinks he's a kid and still acts like one. He's my sister's oldest. She also has a sixteen year-old and a thirteen-year-old, all boys. Before they moved from our street it was common for our kids to play outside, including the twenty-year-old. They went through a stage where they all had light sabers and would play with them all over the neighborhood. They also played hide and seek late at night during the summer. When Cassidy had a recent slumber party, my nephews played a joke on the girls. I alerted them when we were on our way to wrap their house but had no idea what the plan was, only that they were going to scare them. After the girls had made their way into the yard my nephews jumped out from behind a tree all dressed in black, shooting off their paint ball guns loaded only with air. It sounded like a Military attack scaring even my husband and I who were expecting something to happen. You could hear screaming girls for miles.

It's no surprise that my oldest nephew would be behind the start of an amusing little tradition among the kids. While on our annual camping trip a few years ago, he started giving his cousins nicknames similar to Indian names. These nicknames were special and unique, and aren't exactly ones the kids wear proudly. As a matter of fact, they're meant to poke fun at a trait or quality of each kid that isn't very flattering, and they're not supposed to like their tribe names. When they first shared their names with the adults, we totally cracked up. They refer to themselves as the Panari Tribe.

Last Saturday night they christened two new members, my daughter's boyfriend and my nephew's girlfriend. The younger grandchildren have not yet been named, but their day will come.

Member Names:

DJ - Has Big Nose (The very handsome oldest nephew who does in fact have a big nose)
Lauren - Still in Diapers (My oldest, still acts like a baby, especially when she doesn't get her way)
Tyler - Not So Good Breath (My nephew who just needs to chew more gum)
Megan - Looks Like a Man (My niece who has a muscular and athletic build)
Trevin - Sweats A Lot (My nephew who plays many sports and apparently sweats a lot)
Cassidy - Pouts A Lot (My youngest daughter who is often known to have a scowl on her face whenever she's mad and who can hold the world's longest grudge)
Caden - Prancing Pony (My son who they claim fights like a girl! NOT)
Taylor - Oh So Nasty (My niece who has the biggest heart ever, but who likes to roam the camp ground barefoot and dirty all day & night)

Two newest members:

Jessica - Acts Like Female Dog (DJ's girlfriend, not always friendly or in the best of moods)
Travis - Still Breastfeeds (Lauren's boyfriend, has his mom wrapped around his little finger and she goes to great lengths to make his life less stressful!)

I'm sure the adults have also been given names that are not so flattering and they've sworn to keep them top secret. I shudder to think of what mine would be.

Leaving Korea (Part VII/The End)

I'll never forget the feeling of relief that came over me when my husband finally returned home. When he walked through the front door of our apartment I literally jumped into his arms, wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist and held on to him for several minutes like a three-year old child. He was home and the stress and anxiety from the past month were instantly lifted and would no longer weigh me down. He would protect us and keep us safe. I would again be able to sleep soundly, share adult conversation and no longer have to handle everyday tasks alone. I followed him around the apartment like a lost puppy for several days. I'm not sure he could even use the restroom without turning around to find me at standing at his heels.

We went back to our normal routine after he returned home. It was now April and I'd been there for five months. I was looking forward to going back home in July to spend a month with family before we would move to our new duty station. We'd just found out we’d be returning to Ft. Ord, California. We'd spent a year there while he was in school and were happy to be returning to a familiar place. I was doing much better now that I'd survived the month of hell but had grown tired of everyday life being such a struggle. I was sick of walking everywhere, sick of the boredom, sick of the limited choices of food, sick of the small apartment without a yard, fearing for my life everytime I rode in a car/bus, just sick of it all. I knew I could handle life without him for three months. We'd spent three-months apart before I'd arrived. One day in late April I decided that I wanted to go home. I didn't want to wait until July and leave with him. I was ready to see my family, have a car, gorge myself on Mexican food, drive to Whataburger at midnight for a milkshake or cheeseburger if I wanted one, watch regular TV anytime I wanted, talk to people on the telephone (for free)and take long baths or showers with plenty of hot water. I was ready to go and would throw the idea out there as soon as my husband got home from work. I was afraid he would want us to stay but the idea was actually relief to him, too. Life had been harder for him with us there, as well. Living in the barracks was so much easier. We'd both made sacrifices to be together. I was so happy when he thought my idea to go home was a good one. I knew I'd miss him but it was time to go. I'd lasted as long as I could.

I left in mid-May. We splurged on a ticket for Lauren this time. She'd just turned two and we would've been required to purchase one for her. I would've done so anyway after suffering through the miserable flight over there. The flight home was a breeze compared to that one. We were bumped to business class for reasons I can't recall on the flight from Seoul to San Francisco. The seats were spacious and much more comfortable. The only mishap was when Lauren got motion sickness and threw up all over the tray she'd been coloring on. I felt so bad for the nice man sitting next to us knowing that he'd paid for his seat and was now in the midst of a puke-fest. He was so kind. I got her changed and cleaned up but we all know that's a smell that will linger. Oh, I'd just survived hell so a little puke wasn't going to break me. Like a good mother I broke up a tablet of Dramamine and sprinkled some over her ice cream when we landed in San Francisco. I didn't want her puking again on the next flight. We both slept like babies until we landed in Houston.

Home sweet home. I wanted to kiss the ground. I was on an adrenaline high and didn't sleep for 24-hours after we arrived. I devoured huge amounts of Mexican food immediately after leaving the airport. It's amazing how much can change in just six months time. There were vehicles on the freeway that were totally foreign to me. The Chevy trucks had changed their body styles from the squared look of the 80's to the rounded style of the 90's. The cars were different, too. I'd never heard 90% of the songs playing on the radio. It was weird.

I had a car. I had regular TV. No more Barnaby Jones and Baretta reruns! I had fast food anytime I wanted it. I had a phone and you better believe I used it. I had family and friends surrounding me. I had as much water as I needed. It felt so good to be home!

I'm thankful for the opportunity I had to experience such a different culture and way of living. I made no bones about how difficult it was for me, but the bumps in the road make us who we are. The experience of being over there was a good one that helped me grow and appreciate the little things we take for granted here. The worst part of my stay there was the month I spent alone. I know I could've handled it much better had I been older and wiser and more self-sufficient. If I were to live it over again armed with the knowledge and wisdom I now have under my belt, it would've been a cakewalk. Well, maybe not quite that easy, but definitely not the hardship it was for me back then. Recalling those long nights filed with anxiety, the fears that I couldn't seem to get control of and that terrible feeling of being all alone with no one to turn to for support has been somewhat emotional for me to look back on, but I survived. It would make me stronger in the years to come when he would be gone for weeks or months at a time. Of course, I had all of the things that make life easier available to me that I didn't have while in Korea

We often still eat Korean food and drive all the way across town for it. I love the Korean people and respect their culture. When my husband received orders to return to Korea for another year in 1992, I made the decision to stay with my parents. I knew I would miss him like crazy, but wasn't willing to endure the challenges and struggles that it required of me to again live there.

Happy Birthday, Paul/Dad/Grandpa Paul!

I'm so glad to see you posting again. Obviously, that means you're getting around more. I hope you continue to feel better each and everyday. We love you and are thankful for your successful surgery, minus a few mishaps along the way. I hope you have a great birthday and will talk to you soon.

Living in Korea (Part VI)

After several sleepless nights, I thought changing our sleeping habits might be more practical. We were already night owls and often slept late. I decided if I was going to be up all night unable to sleep and exhausted the following day, Lauren and I would just stay up all night and sleep during the day, or at least most of it. I started allowing her to stay up until she ran out of fuel. I'd stay up until the traffic and activity down below started picking back up and I could see hints of daylight. Then I felt safe and could finally sleep soundly.

As a result of the change, our normal daily routine was shot. We'd sleep until the afternoon between 12:00pm and 2:00pm. By the time we were up and moving around, we had limited daylight hours left to run errands or visit with friends at the cottage. There was often days that we never left the apartment if we didn't need to. In spite of how long and boring the days and nights were staying home, it was sometimes preferable to venturing out into the cold weather. On the days we did get out, we'd often arrive on base with only an hour left before the cottage would be closing. Regardless, we'd usually stop in for a short visit. Upon leaving the cottage, we'd typically ride the bus over to Camp Hovey to pick up our mail or sometimes go to the USO Club to call home. We also spent countless evenings just browsing around the PX and eating dinner, or what was actually lunch, at one of the fast food places before heading home to our dark, empty apartment. If we needed groceries, we’d hit the commissary last and take a cab home like we always did after grocery shopping. Sometimes the landlord would hear me come in and offer to help carry the bags upstairs, which was always nice. Otherwise, it required several trips after getting Lauren up to the apartment.

I wasn’t as fearful about arriving home after dark with all of the activity on the streets as I was about the long dreaded night I had ahead of me once inside for the night. Those nights were so long. We spent all of our time in our small living room until we went to bed. I'd read or write letters while she played or watched a video. She only had a few to choose from. VHS movies hadn't been out that long so we didn't have much of a selection at that time. If I were lucky enough to have one of Judy's six-hour tapes from the states, I'd watch it all in one night, including every commercial.

I had a Korean friend named Sohe (So-He), who dated a soldier in my husband's unit. When it came time to do laundry it was Sohe who carried the duffle bag of clothes to and from the laundry mat for me. I was so grateful that she'd volunteered to help. I'm not sure how I would've managed to do it alone. Honestly, I just didn't have the muscles needed to hoist and carry something that heavy and she did. I suppose I could've managed carrying smaller loads with numerous cab rides back and forth, but having her help was truly a blessing. We used the laundry mat on Camp Casey while the guys were away. I didn't need to go as often with one less person to wash for either.

One night I was watching the local news and saw a report about the discovery of some underground tunnels leading from North Korea to South Korea. At the time, I had no way of knowing that they’d been discovering similar tunnels for years and this was not something out of the ordinary. I was terrified. We were about twenty-five miles south of the North Korea border. In my mind it was a sure sign of plans for an invasion by the North Koreans. I was now facing the fear of a possible invasion along with everything else I’d been dealing with. It was overwhelming.

If we’d had a phone, email or some other means of communication I wouldn’t have felt so isolated and alone. I certainly would’ve run up the phone bill but it would’ve been worth it to keep my sanity. Thank God for Lauren. She was the only thing that kept me from officially going bonkers. I had friends, but no one I was extremely close to. One week we didn't make it by the cottage the entire week and I hoped no one was worried about us. I then realized it wouldn’t seem unusual considering our new and recent sporadic schedule. At that point, I found myself thinking that if anything bad were to happen to us, it would probably be two weeks before anyone would think to come and check on us. That thought made me feel sick. I was just ready for my husband to come back home and for my month of hell on earth to finally end.

The Absolute Best Medicine

I can recall many occasions in my life when I have laughed so hard that I was literally gasping for air, trying to stop and couldn't. Times I thought I might die on the spot if I didn't get away from the person sharing the hysterical laughter with me. Some of those times are “you had to be there” stories and I couldn’t do them justice in writing, but I can think of a couple worthy of sharing. Isn't it funny that we seem to be more prone to uncontrollable laughter at the worst possible times?

For me, it was often Sunday mornings in church as a teen and pre-teen. My friends and I would purposely sit behind a man who would make the hour long service much more entertaining for us than the pastor. It was rumored that he actually suffered from narcolepsy, though I didn't know that until many years later. He would doze off repeatedly during the service with his head bobbing all over the place. The funny part was that he'd wake up many times from his own snoring but he’d nod right back off just moments later. My sister recalls one time when his head slammed down onto the back of the pew in front of him with a loud thud. I missed that particular incident, but watching him nod off provided great entertainment for my friends and I, in between writing notes and games of hangman or tic-tac toe during the sermon. We could usually maintain our silent laughter, where only our shoulders would shake, without uttering a sound. Sometimes, one of us would lose control and let out a slight snort, which would have a contagious effect on the others, resulting in the kind of laughter that was almost impossible to control. Once you lose control of that silent laughter and you make a noise, you're usually in for a real battle to maintain control.

I once suffered from uncontrollable laughter at the veterinarian's office when our first dog, Chelsi, had undergone surgery to remove a cyst from the tip of her tail. We were aware that she would be required to wear a lampshade looking contraption around her neck, for about two weeks to keep her from biting at her tail while it healed. We'd been forewarned that she might look a bit awkward. She was a large white German shepherd and as soon as I saw her walking down the hall towards me, I burst into laughter. I was standing at the counter with my checkbook when they brought her out. She was banging into the walls on both sides of her, and as sad as that may sound, I started laughing so hard I couldn't stop myself, even in front of these people. My husband was laughing, too, and by this time had been given the leash to hold onto her. She was banging into chairs in the waiting room and watching her with this big lampshade thing on her head was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen. Of course, knowing her personality and seeing her reaction made it even funnier than if it had just been some random dog. I totally lost control and the more I tried to stop laughing the worse it got. I was literally bent over laughing right there in the clinic. I'm sure the vet staff thought I was evil for laughing at my poor dog. I was trying so hard to stop but I couldn't. She was a big dog and the thing she was wearing was the size of the biggest lampshade you can imagine. She was running into everything and completely disoriented. Every time I looked at her I would burst out laughing and absolutely could not stop. My husband, whom was also still laughing, ended up taking her outside just to get her away from me so I could try to gain my composure. I apologized to the staff and eventually managed to write the check, but continued snickering while I stood there, as hard as I tried not to. It was all I could do not to laugh hysterically until I left. When I got outside it only got worse. I was gasping for air as we walked to the car. The shade had banged into a curb causing her to stumble and she was bumping into cars and I couldn't stop laughing, in spite of how much I loved her, and the fact that she'd just had surgery.
We stopped at a store on our way home and I waited in the car with her. People walking past would catch a glimpse of her and stare at us and then I'd laugh even harder. The laughing continued long after we arrived home. The sight of her trying to maneuver her way around the house and trying to eat and drink with that thing on was killing me. I had bouts of laughter for several days until she finally managed to get around without banging into everything.

I experienced that same kind of laughter about ten years ago at the funeral of our ninety something year old great-great uncle. As far removed as that relation may sound, we'd actually grown up being very close to him. (I'm not so sure my mother will appreciate hearing this story and my sister might not be too thrilled with me either) My sister and I had opted to make the four-hour trip to the funeral with my brother and his wife and would be leaving at 6am. The night prior to the funeral, she and and I went to the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo Cook-Off and stayed out entirely too late. By the time we crawled into bed it seemed like my brother was ringing the doorbell. I know neither of us slept on the trip and were both delirious and exhausted when we arrived. The service was beautiful and I never intended to start what would turn into another one of those bouts of hysterical laughter at such an inappropriate time. Did I already mention that we were delirious? She and I were sitting very close together (possibly trying to keep each other awake) and she whispered something to me. I couldn't help but notice that her breath didn’t smell very good and never should've said it, but I did. I whispered to her, "Where's the dog?” She asked, "What dog?" I replied, "The dog that just took a dump in your mouth. You need some gum, like yesterday". The hysteria was ON. It was all either of us could do to keep from snorting and rolling right off of the pew. It was awful. We were both about to lose control at a loved ones funeral and trying desperately not to. I do believe there was a snort from one of us but we were able to pass it off as crying. However, it barely passed. I'm not proud of myself for this, although it was a pretty good one, if I do say so myself. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it and I didn't realize how hard it would cause us both to laugh. We were beyond shoulders shaking and were trying to muzzle ourselves. After the funeral, we made our way into the hallway and could hardly even look at each other or anyone else, and were in no shape to speak to anyone. Here we were at a funeral suffering from sidesplitting, gut wrenching laughter. Somehow, we managed to pull it together when we saw our mom and grandmother approaching us.