tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-117811262024-03-13T05:58:40.589-04:00Our Journey Continues...because blogging is cheaper than therapy...Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.comBlogger231125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-63107205130929348842012-01-16T10:14:00.002-05:002012-01-16T10:18:53.323-05:00I Have A Dream...<h6><span class="messagebody"><span style="font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Last year, several of the children in Hope's class were given lines from Dr. King's "I Have A Dream" speech to memorize and recite. Her teacher told me that she chose the following for Hope, with me in mind...knowing how much it means to me.</span></span></span></span></h6>"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."<br />
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May we all find <em>something</em> that we can do, no matter how small, to make his dream...reality.<br />
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Amen.<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<h6></h6><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-1169090851445000872011-08-12T16:01:00.001-04:002011-08-12T16:06:18.763-04:00It's Been Awhile...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0PiIUBMQTudCaoiUiJsaH2keRbGDoHuqfWoxPPzQsZSFauBCfnRDvhxLMFTkZ-d-xYV-DM2UaZpx1qT_aB8-1l0VHt0RIDWlLLp7vixjowbQjSYBDJskg-nvLVueGJxWaaGJ/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI0PiIUBMQTudCaoiUiJsaH2keRbGDoHuqfWoxPPzQsZSFauBCfnRDvhxLMFTkZ-d-xYV-DM2UaZpx1qT_aB8-1l0VHt0RIDWlLLp7vixjowbQjSYBDJskg-nvLVueGJxWaaGJ/s1600/heart.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Yes, I'm still around...and yes I still write. My writing for the last...well, almost ten months has been sporadic to say the least and of the personal or LJ variety. It's a cycle folks...my creativity has always been at its highest when I am at my lowest. Sad but true.<br />
<br />
As an update to the last post...the MRI guided biopsy went very well...much better than the first time. Yes, The Emperor Ass Hat was at his best...they couldn't even find him at the hospital and he was an hour or so late. But he and I understand each other now. He knows I'm not putting up with it and I will call him on it. Aftercare was very different this time...I have no idea if that had anything to do with me or the dozens of other women who probably went home and bled for 24 hours straight after having the same procedure. In any case, it went well, and I heard the words I wanted to hear, "It's benign."<br />
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Six months later, time for the follow-up MRI. Guess what? Yep. Again. This time, thank God, they were able to find the spot on an ultrasound so I was able to have an ultrasound guided biopsy instead of another dreaded MRI. And you're never going to guess who did the biopsy!!! Yep...The Emperor Ass Hat. Again...we have danced so many times I'm able to lead. And again, "It's benign."<br />
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Did I mention that the week before I had the ultrasound guided biopsy I also had an area removed from my left arm? That was to make sure they got everything that was left of a "funny freckle". Typical Mel Results, "Well...it's not cancer. But there is far too much cellular activity and if we leave it alone it could become cancerous."<br />
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I continue to take my roadtrips at least four times a year. I just did one on Tuesday of this week as a matter of fact. And as I look at the calendar I can see that next Wednesday is the TWO year anniversary of my very first one.<br />
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Claire graduated preschool to the strains of "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts while Mama held Hopie and sobbed into her hair.<br />
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Hope finished second grade with flying colors after a major hiccup near the end of the year. Her beloved teacher...undoubtedly in my eyes sent from God especially for her...had to retire in February for medical reasons. It was devastating for all involved. The teacher they hired to take over, while I'm sure she is more than competent, was nothing like the original in any respect. It was like starting the year all over again. I don't know how the rest of the kids handled it but it took Hope a good long time to completely switch gears. I thank God she got through it and it's over.<br />
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We took a long overdue trip to Walt Disney World at the end of May and spent ten days soaking up everything that Uncle Walt and The Imagineers have to offer. It was far too crowded...and far too hot...but it's DISNEY for crying out loud! How can you NOT enjoy yourself? One of many cherished memories from that trip centers around an impromptu stop at The Voyage Of The Little Mermaid. It is a combination live action/animated show put on at Disney's Hollywood Studios. We were all far too hot and tired of walking. We walked past the theater, I checked the wait time which was 10 minutes...thinking seats and air conditioning...and I said, "Let's stop here." As we were going through the turnstiles, a cast member stopped us and asked the girls if they would like to help her welcome everyone to the show. She took their names and then placed us up front and told us to wait for her...she'd be back. Shortly before the doors opened she reappeared with personalized certificates for each girl, thanking them for their help, and signed by both Ariel and Prince Eric. She got out her microphone, introduced my girls, then placed the mic between them. Hope said, "Welcome to The Little Mermaid!" and grinned from ear to ear. Claire...did nothing. The crowd applauded...Mama cried. I think I may have forgotten to mention that Vivien, the cast member who chose the girls to help her...was Chinese. ")<br />
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Now....I've just reread this post...and it's missing the Mel trademark. I can just hear Carolina saying, "But Mel...where is your heart?"<br />
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Oh...it's still here too. It is broken and battered and flawed to a fault. But it's still here. You'll hear more about that in the next post in a few days. I know...you can't believe it. Shut up.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-34142846946622116852011-06-14T09:57:00.000-04:002011-06-14T09:57:00.324-04:00Still here!Still here...still alive...new post coming soon...promise. ")Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-33060716645534950262010-10-29T15:59:00.000-04:002010-10-29T15:59:47.804-04:00Six Months Again? Already?<div></div><br />
<div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533553771554651826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmBLA9TZEtNpyQsAzkLT7uqzWJXnIINJyglrKAKUaRKumkxZO4St3gf3IwdpxgTncq2jCOk3w4Hibkcy4Uea407amD8FwakfkAoJpVAAEa1jLoHNpREWC7KTZX9sOHiuR6K3J/s320/rosie.png" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" width="320" /></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Well...I guess it wouldn't be Breast Cancer Awareness Month without my body jumping on the bandwagon now would it? </div><br />
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One mammogram, one breast MRI, one ultrasound, and one surgeon's appointment later...I need another MRI guided biopsy. Whatever was found on the MRI in October of 2009 is now significantly larger. Yes, it's still tiny, but the thought of something totally foreign, growing unchecked inside my breast and described as being "significantly larger" tends to bother me. After the MRI I had to have an ultrasound to see if the mass could be located. Nope...it can't be detected via ultrasound. You just know what kind of day it's going to be when you're waiting for the ultrasound tech to show up, look over at the screen and see your name alongside the words "Type: Breast ~ Category: Small Parts". ::sigh::<br />
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I knew something was up when the tech returned and told me the radiologist wanted to talk to me. I've <em>never</em> been escorted to the inner sanctum before. He was a nice guy...firm handshake...spoke to me in plain English...remained positive yet honest. He basically told me they can't find it...I've had one test too many...they were recommending an MRI guided biopsy and throwing it back to my surgeon. It would be up to the two of us to decide if we went any farther. As I was leaving he yelled, "Keep the faith kid!" I've been holding onto that for the last few weeks. <strong><em>That</em></strong> meant something.<br />
<br />
My surgeon isn't any happier about this than I am. But as she always says, "If we wait...and it <em><strong>is</strong></em> something...nope...you've got two little girls depending on you. We're not going to mess around." Sooo...back to the...ummm..."person" who does these procedures. He, apparently is the only human in this area and I'm stuck with him...again. And as with the other times I've had a procedure scheduled with him, shortly after it is confirmed, he decides to go on vacation and it has to be rescheduled. Hey, put my life on hold again! I freakin' <strong><em>LOVE</em></strong> it!<br />
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The procedure was scheduled for yesterday...and the day after it was scheduled I got the call saying we'd have to push it back, he was going on vacation. I made two calls after that...one to The Spousal Unit, and one to Amy at my surgeon's office. <em>Both</em> of them thought I was kidding. It took me almost five solid minutes to convince Amy I wasn't joking around. But you have to laugh right? Because the alternative just isn't acceptable! So...something that was sooo important, that was recommended by two different physicians, that was scheduled for less than a week away from seeing my surgeon...has now been pushed back to mid-November. Ain't nobody happy...save for the guy on vacation. I'll spare you the cute little name I have for him...oh the hell I will. I've dubbed him The Emperor Ass Hat. If you'd like to read about my other exploits with him check out <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/03/mel-results.html">this post.</a><br />
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Now...as God has pointed out sooo many times in my life...and seems to <strong><em>really</em></strong> enjoy doing as of late...He has shown me that this timing thing of His can also be a blessing. Remember how He told me earlier this year to "wait"? And the only concrete thing He's given me is, "Can you wait three years?" Remember how I'm <strong>SICK TO DEATH</strong> of waiting? Read on...<br />
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The other night I was sitting on Claire’s bed. She was fixing my hair. It felt so good…and she was just jabbering away about what she was going to do next and I had this…body memory…of just aching for her. Not knowing where she was…if she was being well taken care of…if she was even born yet. Wondering if I would ever have a chance to hold her…remembering getting in the shower each and every night and saying to myself, “One day closer to Claire.” He said something to the effect of, “See what I can do?” And then my heart damn near stopped when I realized that the whole process for Claire took close to…three years.<br />
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Ok…the whole Emperor Ass Hat rescheduling thing? As much as I hate to admit it, <strong><em>that</em></strong> has turned into a blessing as well. I was sick as a dog last weekend…didn’t even get out of bed Sunday. I’m still not 100% but I’m not flat on my back anymore either. Wednesday afternoon I got a call from Hope's school...she had been coughing so hard she threw up. Two weeks ago we received word that there were several confirmed cases of whooping cough in the system and one of the signs was, yeah...you guessed it. Scared me senseless…bless her heart. I picked her up, brought her home, cleaned her up and then we went straight to the doctor. No whooping cough...but she does have strep. I've never been so thrilled to hear a diagnosis of strep before in my life. She’s been home for the last couple of days. If the biopsy <strong><em>hadn't</em></strong> been rescheduled? I would've been at the hospital yesterday…with nobody to take care of her. He pointed that out to me last night as well…not in a snotty way…because let’s face it, if He had, I would’ve completely shut down. So…I get it…I do. Three years…still don’t like it…still don’t want to do it…still don’t know what I’m waiting for…but I’ll try my best.<br />
<br />
The way it's scheduled now I'll get to enjoy my birthday and the good Lord willing I should be up and around for Thanksgiving as well.<br />
<br />
Another thing that was bothering me was I had decided for the first time in probably fifteen years, to dress up for Halloween. I had the <em>best</em> time putting together my costume...and then the biopsy was scheduled for, you guessed it, the day our little town has Trick or Treat. So there's another plus for the new date, eh? I got to enjoy Trick or Treat with my girls and show off World's Coolest Pair of Shoes...<strong><em>EVER</em></strong>!<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5STMk8AKk5Lo2HS1ew7ZVxhGTwD9qpPtMZSMNayciIi4v6U6WH2pUKgshgR3K8Nuu0TmIBvf0YFoGTDgrKo1zAeAeIzTYBhwObm_qcwoMh2SRowBQsTj5bbdomZNZGYQw4rC/s1600/DSC04153.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533553767971280274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5STMk8AKk5Lo2HS1ew7ZVxhGTwD9qpPtMZSMNayciIi4v6U6WH2pUKgshgR3K8Nuu0TmIBvf0YFoGTDgrKo1zAeAeIzTYBhwObm_qcwoMh2SRowBQsTj5bbdomZNZGYQw4rC/s640/DSC04153.JPG" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" width="337" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXgoiXh6lcS-zt4PHJXjOF16Ozeli_v6D9EdKhz6ONCvP6uq7Dw01SFG6gl-s1NVj3ZlHWAkDBCOliRNKOIBlVEaMD-hwepKdvTaw6c85SUusk32gX3CXQ2V7HugPhDWfNfJ7/s1600/converse-chuck-taylor-acdc-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533553780993449426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXgoiXh6lcS-zt4PHJXjOF16Ozeli_v6D9EdKhz6ONCvP6uq7Dw01SFG6gl-s1NVj3ZlHWAkDBCOliRNKOIBlVEaMD-hwepKdvTaw6c85SUusk32gX3CXQ2V7HugPhDWfNfJ7/s320/converse-chuck-taylor-acdc-3.jpg" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; display: block; height: 239px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgix37yEReX6tMIutO6Zq6utgMYxMu8twiXVot109Pac_Ym_ZxBq2rFNiHAuc7obC1u3K2JPcxg57EsLFnnSOKbriAfKcYMlf3TyrPIEFsqtcbkVPXkEflBOstq0dH_5rTOyR5C/s1600/converse-chuck-taylor-acdc-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533553777919695746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgix37yEReX6tMIutO6Zq6utgMYxMu8twiXVot109Pac_Ym_ZxBq2rFNiHAuc7obC1u3K2JPcxg57EsLFnnSOKbriAfKcYMlf3TyrPIEFsqtcbkVPXkEflBOstq0dH_5rTOyR5C/s320/converse-chuck-taylor-acdc-1.jpg" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; display: block; height: 239px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div>Still fighting...still smiling...still being Mel!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
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<div></div></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-2899061416200008922010-10-22T16:46:00.017-04:002010-11-05T22:31:27.799-04:00Mel...One Year LaterI sat down recently and reread my entries starting in August of 2009 and going through October of the same year. Folks...I have come so far...farther than I could ever have imagined...especially if you would've told me this last year. I remember sitting in my kitchen, typing one or more of those posts and sobbing so hard I couldn't even continue. I vividly remember being barely able to function, to just get through the day...the only thing I looked forward to was going to bed. I remember being so far down I couldn't even see daylight, let alone the top of the pit. I remember being cautiously optimistic when I thought I had finally broken the surface, only to be pulled back under once again. Well, I would like to announce that not only have I broken the surface, but I am climbing the mountain. I will never, <em><strong><u>NEVER</u></strong></em> go back to the pit and will do <strong><em>WHATEVER</em></strong> it takes to be certain I never return. Not only am I on the mountain, but I have actual days where I'm able to find a peaceful outcropping to just sit, rest, and enjoy the view. For the first time in my entire life, I am comfortable in my own skin...and it shows in every aspect of my life.<br />
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Feel free to go through my Ancient Ramblings to further illustrate these points!<br />
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There were several "major events" that finally brought this excruciatingly painful, yet well worth it part of my journey to an end.<br />
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1. <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/05/jim.html">Jim</a><br />
The death of this man whom I loved so dearly, literally stripped me of my last reserve of strength. I fully believe one must be at their weakest before they can start to rebuild.<br />
<br />
2. Losing Grace<br />
The character of Grace Hanadarko from Saving Grace as you well know, was an inspiration not only to me, but to millions of other women. I felt so close to this character, recognized so much of myself in her, both good and bad. When the series ended and her character was killed it sent me reeling. I've never been so close to giving up in my life...on everything.<br />
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One evening, shortly after I watched the final episode I went out for my walk. That day had been abyssmal and if I didn't get out I was going to lose what tiny bit of sanity I was still clinging to. It was ugly outside. I mean approaching Storm Chasers ugly. I didn't care. If I got wet, so what. If I got struck by lightning, all the better. Nothing was going to keep me from going for a walk. I hadn't even made it around the corner before the thunder started. I kept going. About a quarter of the way into my route it started raining and there was a wall of rain coming right for me. I walked straight into it and just kept going. I crossed the street and looked skyward. I've never seen anything so dark, so compelling, so beautiful. I stood there for the longest time, staring skyward and I finally said, "You want me? Then just go ahead and take me...I dare you." Probably not the smartest thing I've ever done...or was it? I truly believe that was the day I got my strength, or my Mel Mojo back. At that moment, I knew exactly what it felt like to Embrace My Grace. What I did was something I could see Grace doing...effortlessly. I will <em>never</em> forget cresting the hill and seeing a family standing in their garage who had been watching the storm look at me like I was a complete and total moron...and I just smiled at them and kept on <span style="font-family: inherit;">going. The following was my status on Facebook that evening:<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "Ever walk headlong through a wall of rain straight into the darkness of an incoming storm...on purpose? Stare straight up at the swirling clouds...the black tendrils so close to the ground you feel like you can reach up and touch them? Stand with arms outstretched</span> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">and face toward the sky with 3DD mixing with thunder in your head? I have to say it was one amazing experience...no fear...just</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">...peace."</span><br />
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3. Facing Demons<br />
Once you've dared God to snatch you up during a thunderstorm, facing old demons doesn't seem quite so scary. You can read about that <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/08/mels-totally-excellent-cheesecake.html">here</a>, <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/08/mels-totally-excellent-cheesecake_13.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/09/im-not-that-girl-anymore.html">here</a>.<br />
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So how have things changed? Everything else aside...you might want to read <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/08/becoming.html">this post</a> before you go any farther.<br />
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For the first time in, well, probably forever, I enjoyed the month of August. On the day school started? I was fine. I was actually better than fine. I was looking forward to it…having a little time to myself…recouping a little bit of my peace, quiet, and sanity. All the dreaded paperwork was finished…early. The day before? Just another Sunday…no stomach issues…no tension…no tears…slept great. That was all phenomenal, sure. But you want to know what the absolute best part was? Hopie picked up on Mama’s attitude, much like she always does…and you wouldn’t believe the change in her. She was excited, but not scared. She was smiling from the moment she got up that morning. And when she waved goodbye to me from the bus window? It wasn’t just her mouth that was smiling. Her eyes…her body language…she was positively radiant!<br />
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The next month? Claire started preshool. Day one and not only did we survive it but one could say we were thriving. She was happy and excited and ready to go. No tears, no tummy aches, just lots of big smiles. I didn’t cry when I left her…can you believe it? I can’t! Don’t get me wrong, I felt a big old tug, but it’s time for her to be with other kids and have somebody else leading her besides Mama. And when I went to pick her up? She came racing out of her room, jumped into my arms and cried, "Mama!!! I missed you!!!" That's some pretty awesome stuff there folks! And yes, I did cry later when I was looking at the picture posted here...she just looks so very grown up.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531372484375643474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG5qgdfkYkIcGrtLgAZh0Vo9S5fomZQB0Q1VWS4ngJow2zvM8inEhD4ztDRMSsogW1xsoeWWnmXkdNTwJP1mvvi9wMa35ZSW_3Gl2lv18Dwj_0qPoTBaT7d1B8SDlLQrXGRo3G/s320/tears.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /><br />
I have a peace...a center...that's not been there before. My spunk...my fire...my determination...my smile...I've missed them...and it's so good to have them return. My life has light...and color...and warmth again. No, it's not perfect...and I'm not where I need or want to be yet. But I am ok with where I am now. And that my friends, is something to be proud of.<br />
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I had mentioned in a prior post that during my last check-up, the nurse suggested I try taking a daily Vitamin D supplement. <em>I’m</em> the one who pulled myself out of the third concentric circle of hell by my fingernails for the last year…I’ve got the burn scars to show for it. I’ve faced down more demons…and won…than I ever imagined I could. Believe me, I know, I was <em>there</em>. I am ultimately the one who did all of the work...and I'm not trying to take away from that in any way, shape or form. You've got to go through <em>your</em> fire to get to the other side. But that little white vitamin tablet, at least for me, takes the edge off, rounds off the corners a little, and helps makes my journey just a little easier.<br />
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I want to take a moment to say a few words about my friend. Perhaps a better word to describe him would be <em>catalyst</em>. I don't know why God placed him in my life when He did but I am eternally grateful to Him for it. I trusted this person without giving it a second thought...I've never been so open, so trusting, so comfortable with anyone before, or most probably after. He kicked down every single wall I had ever built...effortlessly...and I let him. He is the person who started this <em>change</em>. He taught me to trust myself, showed me just how strong I am, allowed me to see Mel as the world sees her, was there for me each and every time I needed to cry or whine or bitch or laugh or smile, and always, <em><strong>always</strong></em> knew just what to say to make me pick myself up and keep going. He shared so many wonderful bits of wisdom with me, but the one that perhaps resonates the most, was just two simple words. He said, "You matter."<br />
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He has since moved on...probably helping someone else get his or her life together. It's his gift and most likely his curse as well. I miss him...a lot. But I want not only him, but anyone else reading this to know I am <strong><em><u>NEVER</u></em></strong> going back. Back to the darkness, the fear, the self loathing, the hiding from everyone and everything, building walls...never again. Those few months that he shared himself with me, our friendship, what he taught me, mean too much to me to ever disrepect it in that way. It meant more to me than you can ever know. I'm going to honor that relationship and keep going forward, keep fighting, keep living, keep being Mel whoever she happens to be at that exact moment, and keep smiling.<br />
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Now, I simply wouldn't be Mel if I didn't share a song with you that is just scary appropriate to this post, would I? Enjoy it...live your life like it matters...be...Amazing.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Amazing<br />
By Aerosmith<br />
<br />
I kept the right ones out<br />
And let the wrong ones in<br />
Had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sins<br />
There were times in my life<br />
When I was goin' insane<br />
Tryin' to walk through<br />
The pain<br />
<br />
When I lost my grip<br />
And I hit the floor<br />
Yeah, I thought I could leave but couldn't get out the door<br />
I was so sick and tired<br />
Of livin' a lie<br />
I was wishin that I<br />
Would die<br />
<br />
[Chorus:]<br />
<br />
It's Amazing<br />
With the blink of an eye you finally see the light<br />
It's Amazing<br />
When the moment arrives that you know you'll be alright<br />
It's Amazing<br />
And I'm sayin' a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight<br />
<br />
That one last shot's a permanent vacation<br />
And how high can you fly with broken wings?<br />
Life's a journey not a destination<br />
And I just can't tell just what tomorrow brings<br />
<br />
You have to learn to crawl<br />
Before you learn to walk<br />
But I just couldn't listen to all that righteous talk, oh yeah<br />
I was out on the street,<br />
Just tryin' to survive<br />
Scratchin' to stay<br />
Alive<br />
<br />
[Chorus:]<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em>Listen to the whole thing...the very end is my favorite part!</em></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-77621273546105480552010-09-20T15:17:00.001-04:002010-09-20T20:38:39.378-04:00Mel's Walls<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know some folks have been wondering if I'm still talking to God...and if He's still answering. In a word, yes. The lines of communication are still open. I'm still cautiously optimistic. As always, I don't trust Him like I should, but He still loves me...and He still keeps trying. If He's willing to work at it, then so am I.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I can't say He's spoken in audible tones since very early this year. One of those "wait" messages. Y'all know how good I am with those. But, as I have learned through this journey called Mel's Life...He can make His message just as loud and just as clear without ever opening His mouth. You have to be open to receiving that message from anyone...at any time...from anywhere.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last big one came at church. No surprise there really...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of weeks ago we dropped the girls off at Sunday School. While Garry took the newspapers to the recycle bin I went up to the balcony to read. I've become more than addicted to my nook that the girls bought me for Mother's Day this year. While I waited for it to power up I skimmed the bulletin...the picture on the front didn't really register with me at that point. Garry appeared, sat down, laid his bulletin on the pew next to me and as I glanced down at it I think I actually <em>shouted</em>, "That's EARL!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeLk-MM917CrkdBaJSeb81-K0W_JO3ovU6ZY0M_EVOrhdiuloJ9Ut8rul85SIKvyB6dCWTWy81xyn83fIfPq3Mct8SOqjqo2aOcs286A9uuS20PxKhnoyC5THFzU6w1oKfG4T/s1600/angel_earl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeLk-MM917CrkdBaJSeb81-K0W_JO3ovU6ZY0M_EVOrhdiuloJ9Ut8rul85SIKvyB6dCWTWy81xyn83fIfPq3Mct8SOqjqo2aOcs286A9uuS20PxKhnoyC5THFzU6w1oKfG4T/s320/angel_earl.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The picture on the front of the bulletin...the same one posted here...was my beloved Earl. You don't know Earl??? <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/09/tattoos-comfort-eighty-dollar-hoodies.html">Allow me to introduce him.</a> I don't know who chose the picture...or why that was the picture they chose. I don't really care. I thanked our pastor profusely...he looked at me like I was nuts...most people do...I'm used to it...I revel in it! ; )<br />
<br />
My stomach was filled with butterflies...I knew this meant something...I knew there was going to be a message for me somewhere and I needed to pay attention. The hymns were good...but that wasn't it. The readings and the sermon were good...about angels of course...but I still wasn't getting it. I thought, "Well...ok. Maybe the <em>picture</em> is the message. Maybe that is simply all there is to it." Ohhh...what was that "wait" thing I mentioned earlier? Shortly after I had that last thought, our pastor began his pastoral prayer:<br />
<br />
"O God, our lives are surrounded by walls. Some walls are good and strong and keep things in where they should be. But other walls keep people out. We confess that too often we build walls made of fear, anger, misunderstanding and hatred. Too often we build walls to protect ourselves from being hurt, from being changed or from being vulnerable. In our blindness and prejudice, we forget the gates, doors, and windows in our walls.<br />
<br />
Help us, O God, to build walls that are freeing...walls that set boundaries of love and responsibility within which we may live and love and play. Help us, Loving God, not to be so quick to judge others. Help us to not create boundaries which separate us from your love for us, but rather enable us to trust in the protective walls that you provide.<br />
<br />
Heal our judging spirits, we pray, and make us forgiving people, shaped within your transforming love. Be with us as we build up and take down the many walls in our lives. Grant us the wisdom to know when to construct, when to confront, when to climb, when to dismantle, when to ignore, and when to go around the walls of our lives. And help us to remember that some of our walls may actually be bridges, answers to unspoken prayer. Amen."<br />
<br />
Do you think He was talkin' to me? Yeah...pretty amazing isn't it? It took my breath away then, and it does the same every single time I read it.<br />
<br />
Thanks J for sharing this, making me a copy, and for just being you.<br />
<br />
Be blessed y'all...until next time,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-29508856082398633122010-09-15T15:26:00.003-04:002010-09-16T19:59:38.627-04:00I'm Not That Girl Anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoJ0bgbiYHNTMZe0V_HFowFUXM-d_IH2rC0EPc9xLiEeTEh4Sk81t8_ZS1qRe4DKSbnAdBCWWXqQqGdgeUTgbnPyVG5KAaNaa-uANUEbUu6jxZVwbcFO0LCETxsP2djKGDq6C/s1600/DSC04069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoJ0bgbiYHNTMZe0V_HFowFUXM-d_IH2rC0EPc9xLiEeTEh4Sk81t8_ZS1qRe4DKSbnAdBCWWXqQqGdgeUTgbnPyVG5KAaNaa-uANUEbUu6jxZVwbcFO0LCETxsP2djKGDq6C/s320/DSC04069.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Ok, let me tell you something about high school. It was <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> the best time of my life. It was, in fact, horrific. I wasn't involved in sports (surprise!)...didn't play in the band or sing in the choir...was never invited to a party or asked out on a date...and was ditched by just about each and every "friend" I ever had when a potential boyfriend or girlfriend came on the scene but was expected to always be there for those "friends" when said potential relationships didn't work out. Looking back...I think I looked like a boy...an extremely skinny boy...with bad hair, bad skin, and chipmunk cheeks. I had less than zero self-esteem. No one paid attention to me unless it was to make fun of me...sometimes behind my back but most of the time to my face. I pretended that I didn't care but every hurt registered and each was filed away. I'm sure this comes as no surprise to anyone who has read my ramblings for longer than six minutes...none of those hurts were ever dealt with. I survived my high school career by having a very loud, very smart mouth and by making other people laugh. Hey, it worked...if I had them laughing about someone or something else they weren't laughing at me.<br />
<br />
And so, for these and millions of other reasons, I'm sure you can see why I never saw the need to attend any of my high school reunions. My excuse was always the same, "I've kept in contact with everyone I'm interested in keeping in touch with." And believe me folks...don't think the sting was any less severe when for <em>whatever</em> reason I wasn't even invited to one of our early reunions.<br />
<br />
When Mel's Walls came tumbling down last summer those old hurts were just as alive, just as painful, as if they had happened yesterday...and suddenly...I'm being told that lists are circulating via Facebook and email, searching for contact info for classmates for our 30th reunion. What did I care? I wasn't going...and the hurts just bubbled to the surface again because even though I was just as visible on Facebook and Classmates.com as many other former classmates...and I had received information about the last two reunions...and I still live in the same little town I grew up in...and am in the phonebook...I was on those lists of classmates they couldn't locate.<br />
<br />
Well meaning "friends" took it upon themselves to tag me in 37 different notes assuming I would be interested. I spent the greater portion of two months removing those tags. I got tired of telling people I wasn't interested...it was the whole screaming into a vacuum thing all over again. I finally received an email from my friend Jane who knows me well enough to put it into terms I'll respond to. She said she knew I was hiding, but at least give the committee my information so they could take me off the list of folks they couldn't find. Ok...I did it...I grumbled the whole time...but I did it.<br />
<br />
I'm sure it was during one of those grumbles The Friend said to me, "You've got to go." I said, "Where?" He said, "To your reunion." I said, "You're out of your *insert your own expletive here* mind." He said, "No I'm not. You're <em>going</em>." I said...well, you can guess what I said. This conversation was returned to numerous times over the span of a couple of months with phrases coming from him like, "You are the most <strong><em>stubborn</em></strong> woman I know! You are <strong><em><u>GOING</u></em></strong> *insert another expletive here...or three*!<br />
<br />
He finally wore me down and by late last summer I had decided I would go. I still didn't <em>want</em> to go, but I was going. I asked my best friend from high school...that would be Sherri...to go with me. She said she'd go if I forced her to but it really wasn't something she wanted to do. I certainly couldn't fault her for those feelings. I told her we'd have lunch the weekend after the reunion so I could give her all the details. So, I would go by myself and face down all the noisy demons that had broken free...put those bad boys to rest once and for all. I shared my decision with The Friend. He was happy, but he still wasn't convinced I'd go through with it. He looked me in the eye and said, "Promise me you'll go. Trust me...you're going to regret it if you don't." If I remember correctly I rolled my eyes and said something to the effect of, "I <em>said </em>I was going! O<em>K</em>?"<br />
<br />
So, for the next year I kept it to myself. I got sick to my stomach just writing the check for my ticket. Every little reminder email that came in made me want to run screaming into my closet and never come out. I think by the time the actual reunion rolled around I had told all of five people I was going...and that's not counting The Friend, or anyone who lives in my house, or the reunion committee.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Reunion Proper was to be held on a Saturday night. The Friday before, we were to meet at our old high school which will soon be no more, for one last tour and then an informal gathering at a local restaurant. Just hours before the Friday night festivities were to begin, several other classmates convinced Sherri she needed to go. When she pulled into the driveway I made her get out of the car so we could take pictures. She said, "Geez you're <em>bossy</em>!" To which I replied, "And you're just learning this <em>now</em>?" But notice, she did get out of the car and have her picture taken.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn26l-qbxzltBHzTFA3XrxvWOMFCBSO51X7qRHNvk6dK8VC-OCjQjE_nGht-yF5tgK9y7JSHELFNL6L2NhhVwJ4EX5XOMTyXUGMEPjmpZWWfwsvrf6CXcKMWcKETDt_2rpbRRG/s1600/car1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn26l-qbxzltBHzTFA3XrxvWOMFCBSO51X7qRHNvk6dK8VC-OCjQjE_nGht-yF5tgK9y7JSHELFNL6L2NhhVwJ4EX5XOMTyXUGMEPjmpZWWfwsvrf6CXcKMWcKETDt_2rpbRRG/s320/car1.JPG" /></a></div><br />
The drive from my house to the high school takes about five minutes. I was surprisingly calm after being a total whack job for the last year. I asked her if she was going to go to the Official Reunion the next evening. She emphatically told me she was not. She had no intention of putting on uncomfortable dress clothes. I said, "Sherri? It's <em>CASUAL</em>. I'm wearing jeans...and only a slightly less slutty top than what I'm wearing tonight." She wasn't convinced.<br />
<br />
We pulled into the high school drive and saw a decent sized crowd of who we assumed to be our classmates. Sherri drove by slowly, beeped her horn, and we gave them all the parade/princess wave. Did I forget to mention that Sherri was voted Class Clown?<br />
<br />
I won't lie...the walk from the parking lot was tough. My stomach was churning and I really wanted to run back to the car and go home. As we approached the group, everyone just kind of parted, and there stood this guy I've known since...fourth grade? Granted, I haven't seen him in 30 years, but as soon as he saw me he smiled and held out his arms for a hug. I don't know why, but as soon as we hugged, I knew everything was going to be fine. So thanks Mike...it meant a lot!<br />
<br />
Our old high school...well...it seemed a whole lot smaller than what it did 30 years ago...even though they've added onto it since we graduated. And it has this...funk about it. I'd drive one of the bulldozers and knock that sucker down for free if they'd let me. But it <em>was</em> fun walking around and watching everyone find their old locker and try to remember the combination. At one point Mike and I found this stash of old cosmetology relics and were laughing like idiots...I'm still not exactly sure what some of the items were...let alone what they were used for.<br />
<br />
Next stop, the north end of town to see who didn't make the tour and was waiting for us on the patio at The Restaurant. Folks? I'm going to tell you right now...I had one of the best times of my life that night. It was fun...it was relaxed...it was insane...and I loved every minute of it. I believe the phenomena I found most interesting was everyone there breaking into groups of three or four. All the groups would then openly stare and point at the other groups, trying to figure out who the members of those other groups were. After about five minutes, the groups would mingle and then break up into different groups and the game would start again. Eventually everyone knew who everyone else was. HA! I think I won for being the person that the most people had no clue who I was. After awhile it got to be a game. Jane and another high school friend, Randy would start grabbing people, dragging them over to where we were standing and say, "Do you know who this is?" Of course they didn't...they would blush, stammer, and stare blankly at me hoping the floor would swallow them. Randy or Jane would say, "You don't remember <em>Missy</em>? Are you <em>kidding</em>? She looks exactly the same!" (I'd like to take this moment to remind you that there are very few humans in this world who get away with calling me "Missy"...and I'd also like to clarify that at least in <strong><em>MY</em></strong> mind, I look <strong><em>NOTHING</em></strong> like I did in high school!) At one point I shared the conversation between Sherri and myself about what I would be wearing the next evening. I was told that my slutty top was being enjoyed and that it's not every chick pushing 50 that can pull off something like that. : D<br />
<br />
Sherri and I took off around 11:00 and then, as we usually do, spent the next couple of hours in her car, sitting in my driveway talking. Again, the same group of people who convinced her she needed to attend the informal function had convinced her she needed to show up Saturday night as well. Yay!<br />
<br />
The next night was really no different. I reconnected with my freshman science lab partner. That girl swears like a sailor...who knew? Those of us who swear like truckers salute you Sue! I laughed...I chatted with people I haven't seen in decades...I fielded compliments about my choice in slutty tops...I noticed that quite a few classmates have become absolutely human. Of course, there are still members of my class who haven't changed a bit...but that was good to see as well. One of my biggest demons walked up to me, called me by name, and shook my hand. I was floored beyond belief...the demon remembered me without a nametag, was polite, looked like hell, and I just didn't care anymore. Check.<br />
<br />
Oh and make sure you check out my top, the bracelets and my watch! Those are all treasures from my Totally Excellent Cheesecake Adventure! ")<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatXOcceJ8xaW_GMg6t76hWbmBEtt8bMP2es1KUh9Z3FpQsH5kiCoVejhbkCzfFnV6EOCTwuIs7UP6UaNtuBReB9OP_65wx_yKIpGb1IumD_AAfySSrk3yY7i_m2Kd8hyW5aCE/s1600/janerandy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatXOcceJ8xaW_GMg6t76hWbmBEtt8bMP2es1KUh9Z3FpQsH5kiCoVejhbkCzfFnV6EOCTwuIs7UP6UaNtuBReB9OP_65wx_yKIpGb1IumD_AAfySSrk3yY7i_m2Kd8hyW5aCE/s320/janerandy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jane, Mel and Randy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_rFh1ONDSluUbdDjt5sBJWfWDQMYDitq-qPCEbegQ2KvQ5Prd4kBbR1KeyfYRVbn1OXPcmQLwC9KqGjTlNqe59claHVDFfzowQlJI9bSpyfeawGfmU2ptz37uhlbnm6mznnJ/s1600/tat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_rFh1ONDSluUbdDjt5sBJWfWDQMYDitq-qPCEbegQ2KvQ5Prd4kBbR1KeyfYRVbn1OXPcmQLwC9KqGjTlNqe59claHVDFfzowQlJI9bSpyfeawGfmU2ptz37uhlbnm6mznnJ/s320/tat.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Jane apparently took this shot without me knowing and posted it on Facebook titled "Missy's Tat". I guess it's only fitting. She's the one who gave me my first tattoo by drawing it on the back of my neck in French Class. No I'm not telling you about it. She's evil...but I love her. ; )</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtD7vrZRF6SsYcsMl_gyNx55OaU4zoSKrfb2TItdHORBtVc4Wr7vekrSmssKyYGEJYHxqE43neAhP9K5Fqnro50qW6opLG40bBxyUHL4i8XEmWR_kW6tAvS2myXRHgfZW3JQi4/s1600/mike+and+mel+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtD7vrZRF6SsYcsMl_gyNx55OaU4zoSKrfb2TItdHORBtVc4Wr7vekrSmssKyYGEJYHxqE43neAhP9K5Fqnro50qW6opLG40bBxyUHL4i8XEmWR_kW6tAvS2myXRHgfZW3JQi4/s320/mike+and+mel+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
Mike and Mel</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Would I have regretted missing this? Absolutely. Will I go to the next one? Well...just wait and see...because as I learned not only from this experience, but from the last year...I am NOT that girl anymore. ")<br />
<br />
Hugs y'all,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-24559727052066866452010-08-13T16:19:00.005-04:002010-08-13T18:07:56.062-04:00Mel's Totally Excellent Cheesecake Adventure---Part TwoAs you may or may not know, I have been given the ability to face huge challenges head on...most times without a second thought. But the little things? You know...the little piddly, day to day irritations? Those I tend to push down and let bug the snot out of me...until there are so many of them they boil over and explode. That's what landed me in the ER so many times over so many years. Eventually, the shit is going to get to you. Deal with it <strong><em>now</em></strong>, don't let it build up.<br />
<br />
Sooo...that first night, by myself, in the hotel, away from home I realized I had forgotten my hairbrush. Yes, I know...you're holding your sides and laughing hysterically. <em>My</em> hair? Like I'd <em>miss</em> a hairbrush? Well, I knew there was a Target but a mere spitting distance away but I had just gotten out of the shower and I really didn't feel like getting dressed and going to Target for <em>just</em> a hairbrush. The fact that I had that thought immediately after, "How the hell am I going to dry my hair in the morning without a hairbrush?", I think shows amazing progress. I decided I'd use my fingers instead and see what happened.<br />
<br />
I woke up at 4 a.m. the next morning. I have no idea why. It wasn't storming...there wasn't any noise other than highway noise and I like that...it wasn't too hot or too cold...the alarm didn't go off. I got up, looked out the window, saw it was still pitch black, put my glasses on to check the clock, muttered a few choice expletives, and crawled back into bed until the alarm went off at 6 and promptly slept through it until 7. Hey! I'm on vacation...leave me alone!<br />
<br />
I got up, got dressed, and started to work on my hair. After about 5 minutes with the blow dryer my fingers seemed to be an adequate substitute. Check. I pulled out my hairspray to finish the deal and...it didn't work. I could've pumped that sucker until Republicans and Democrats hold a mutual lovefest for each other on Capitol Hill and still been left with nothing. I shook it...I took the assembly apart...blew into it...ran it under hot water...and <strong><em>finally</em></strong> the thing decided to work. I can do this. ; )<br />
<br />
I grabbed my purse, my room key, and my nook and headed downstairs for breakfast. Ok...you know how I love Aerosmith...right? Every single time I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor a computerized female voice would say, "going down". I'd giggle to myself as a certain song would immediately start playing in my head...no...it wasn't "Crazy"...smart alecks...<br />
<br />
The dining area was empty for the most part. I grabbed a bagel and some cereal and sat at a table near the window. Before I fired up my nook I went back for some juice...and a banana...and a blueberry muffin. See? I was eating. I finished my breakfast, read a couple more chapters, cleaned up my table and headed back upstairs to plan my day. I got off at the 6th floor, turned right, stopped at my room, put my keycard in the slot and...nothing. Dear Lord...it was the hairspray thing all over again. After about a dozen failed attempts I headed back downstairs to the lobby. The nice guy at the front desk was beyond helpful...and apologetic. He made me a new card plus a spare. When I got in the elevator to head back upstairs, I started to laugh, thinking about the guy who had ridden up with me the night before and felt the need to inform me, "I can't wait to get out of these pants...it's so hot out there!" Thanks for sharing...good to know buddy...good to know.<br />
<br />
I had planned on spending two days at the "shopping village" but one day was more than enough. I had seen all the stores...most of them were undergoing renovations...those that <em>were</em> open were jammed into a "temporary" location. One of them didn't even have adequate lighting...just a string of some type of industrial lights that turned everything a sickly shade of yellowish green. I had absolutely no desire to deal with the traffic around that area again either. I decided to head to <em>my</em> mall. Now, that statement in and of itself is something else. You see...I hate malls...and as far as I'm concerned, they're pretty much all the same. But, this one, <em>my</em> mall, holds some pretty special memories. Maybe it's because that's where I go on my getaways...maybe it's because it was the first place I ventured out to on my own after a lot of years...maybe it's because nobody knows me...or maybe it's because I can just be Mel there and I<em><strong> like</strong></em> who Mel is there. In any case, that's where I headed for the day.<br />
<br />
As soon as I arrived I headed to The Disney Store hoping to find something for the girls. Nothing...all of the Disney Stores close to us have closed, and all the ones left open have nothing. It's sad. I meandered around for a bit and ended up finding a store chock full of Silly Bandz. Yes, my girls are as obsessed with them as everyone else. Why didn't I think of making colored rubber bands in all manner of shapes? I bought several packages and decided to get down to business.<br />
<br />
One of the major reasons for this trip was to locate something to wear to my 30th High School Reunion. I didn't want to go...seriously. But that friend? Yeah...him again? It was about this time last year he encouraged me...no...pushed me...no...pretty much ordered me to go. He told me I'd regret it if I didn't. You'll hear more about said reunion later.<br />
<br />
I had already decided I was going to wear jeans...you know...my Buckle jeans from a previous trip? ; ) I just wanted a cute top to go with them. I planned on starting at Macy's on the upper level and then going into every store, on both levels, that I thought might have a certain style I was looking for. I was going to look at all of them before I started trying any on.<br />
<br />
As I started for Macy's I passed The Comfort Zone, an acupressure massage place run by Asians. Every single time I've been to this mall they are standing out in front of the place trying to get people to come in. <em>This</em> time the woman came over, took my arm, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Free sample! <em><strong>FREE</strong></em>!" I don't know what it was about her...how quietly she said it...how beautiful her voice was...how very much she looked like Hope's ayi...but I said, "Where are you from originally?" She said, "China!" I said, "So are my daughters. In that case, I can certainly take the time for a free sample." Still holding my arm she took me inside to the waiting area and seated me in a chair. There were three men there in addition to the lovely woman who lead me inside and between the four of them they spoke just enough English to get by. She would say something in Mandarin, (I'm guessing it's Mandarin, could've been Cantonese...what do <em><strong>I</strong></em> know?) they would reply...occasionally with one or two words of English thrown in. While one of the gentlemen worked magic on my neck and shoulders we all managed to communicate what parts of China my girls were born in. I was handed a price list, I pointed to what I wanted and was treated to twenty minutes of heaven. Wow...the stuff I've been missing people!!! This guy had magic fingers...he was finding knots that had been buried for years. When my time was up I walked to the back of the shop, paid Mr. Magic Hands, thanked him profusely and then walked out into the mall. The woman and the other two men were out in the mall talking. Before I left I pulled out my wallet to show them pictures of my girls. All three of them made a huge fuss, no English of course, then she grabbed my wallet and they started looking at <em>all</em> of my pictures! She kept pointing to one of the pictures and saying, "Ai ya! Ai ya!" I said, "Ai ya!? That's the only thing my youngest daughter said when we brought her home! Ai ya!" She handed me my wallet and as I was putting it away she was trying to teach me <em>something</em> in Chinese. I just smiled and shook my head. At the same time, one of the men spotted my <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/09/looking-forward.html">tattoo</a>. He was tracing the characters, reading them and then saying, "yes...yes...". I looked at the woman and she had tears in her eyes and was smiling from ear to ear. She grabbed me…and hugged me! It was one of the sweetest and most natural things I’ve ever experienced. I said, "xie xie" and promised her I would be back. By the time I got to Macy's I realized I was shaking...not just from the wonderful emotional experience I had just been through but also because for the first time in decades I was completely relaxed and had no pain anywhere! I dropped into a chair in front of the store and just <em>sat</em> for awhile enjoying the feeling!<br />
<br />
Once my legs didn't feel like rubber any longer I started my Tour For The Perfect Top '10. As is always the way? I ended up back at Macy's after being in every other store in the place. I tried on six or seven different choices, narrowed it down to two...ended up buying both of them ; ) Next I needed earrings and bracelets to match...yes I <strong><em>needed</em></strong> them! I took the tour again, ended up finding the perfect bracelet set at Charming Charlie but never did find any earrings that spoke to me...and it was time to eat! I wonder where I should go...<br />
<br />
Back to the car to stow my purchases, grab my nook, and cross the parking lot to...yes...The Cheesecake Factory! I had already decided what I was going to order, as usual, before I walked in...or so I thought. I was seated in a section I'd never been in before...not a whole lot of traffic. I was slightly disappointed...I am an observer after all...but I had my nook and I was at The Cheesecake Factory for crying out loud! I was a happy girl...about to get much happier. As I powered up my nook I saw a hand resting on my table and heard a male voice say, "I'll be right with you miss!" (miss!!!) I looked up, smiled, and said, "Not a problem." Seriously people? What problem could I have with this? My waiter was excruciatingly good looking. Think...oh...Justin Timberlake but darker...and leaner. As I was soon to learn, Ryan was also as personable as he was good looking. We talked about food...and cheesecake...his mother...his childhood...what? You don't have conversations like this with your servers? Maybe you should try it sometime! He kept prefacing his statements with "When I was a kid...". I finally said, "When you were a kid? What...last week?" He blushed...he actually blushed! He said, "Well I thank you but I'm no kid! I have a ten year old. I'm <strong><em>thirty</em></strong>." I laughed...not a giggle...not a chortle...not a chuckle...but a full out, cover your mouth with your hand and look around to make sure nobody is looking laugh. I said, "Oooo! <strong><em>Thirty</em></strong>! I've got seventeen years on you kid!" He started laughing...we started talking about our children...he said that since he has a ten year old and mine are both under ten, he's ahead of me on that one. Ohhhh...he was fun. So was lunch. Food you say? Ok, this was my lunch, and of course, dinner again that evening.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UCPb5pEjLZD9RzKEnKPxrZwS0wIGvLUIQGdXO2zkKCYf2m6KnbVa28F1ObIYt-9lFpzCnhKljOdwnDVHG1E74JDDUo8JNjxiij2XJqqSvqJxUTBbcqqvf6Eko5V_S2vBGa4S/s1600/lunch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UCPb5pEjLZD9RzKEnKPxrZwS0wIGvLUIQGdXO2zkKCYf2m6KnbVa28F1ObIYt-9lFpzCnhKljOdwnDVHG1E74JDDUo8JNjxiij2XJqqSvqJxUTBbcqqvf6Eko5V_S2vBGa4S/s320/lunch2.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That delicious looking mound of mouth watering goodness is The Cheesecake Factory's Chicken and Biscuits. Notice I got another hearty portion of world's best mashed potatoes as well. And for dessert? Well, Ryan didn't have just one favorite to share. He had at least five favorites...and this is the one I chose.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyBLBLeBYTkkwKQ8zp8mVepTCoL0rurFdTbjCPs_ghwvRWMid4TN-puu1RrziPwnNMN1N8qwMvSryJzayZy7OA6H85AdvSFME0vqTYyvcS_U-AnkGHlxgLOXR0EnNQ9SbRD30/s1600/dessert2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNyBLBLeBYTkkwKQ8zp8mVepTCoL0rurFdTbjCPs_ghwvRWMid4TN-puu1RrziPwnNMN1N8qwMvSryJzayZy7OA6H85AdvSFME0vqTYyvcS_U-AnkGHlxgLOXR0EnNQ9SbRD30/s320/dessert2.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Doesn't *that* look yummy? That would be a slice of their Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake. I want another one...now...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So after my tummy was full, and I'd read a few more chapters, Ryan the 30 Year Old Boy Wonder (dear Lord...born the year I graduated high school) boxed up my leftovers, brought me my bill and asked me when he was going to see me again. I said, "Tomorrow?" He said, "I'll be here!" Yes...I left him a substantial tip. ; )</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All right, it was time to head back to the hotel before traffic became a nightmare. As I walked across the parking lot and crawled into the Jeep I got nailed by an unexpected case of the giggles. I actually said, out loud, "<strong><em>God</em></strong> he was <strong><em>CUTE</em></strong>!" Yeah...I did!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was a bit later than the day before and it showed. I had to sit in traffic for a short while...and was sure I missed my exit at one point...yeah, a brand new chorus of, "<strong><em>fuck, fuCK, FUCK!</em></strong>". But this time? Those choruses were interspersed with "<strong><em>God</em></strong> he was <strong><em>CUTE</em></strong>!" Hey...working on balance here folks. I do have it tattooed on my back after all! ; ) I realized I was exactly where I needed to be as soon as my exit came into view.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok, back at the hotel, crank up the air conditioning, check my email and just enjoy not having anything I <strong><em>have</em></strong> to be doing. I eventually went downstairs...grabbed myself a root beer (I know...I'm scandalous) and then hit the treadmill for an hour. After that? Leftovers of course! I had just finished my dinner when Hope called. I flipped open my phone and said, "This is Mama!" She said, "Hi!" I said, "Hi baby Hope!" There was a pause...and my oldest child...my angel...the strongest human being I know...who never cries...sobbed, "Mama! I miss you! Why are you gone? I want you home!" It took everything I had not to collapse on the floor in my own pool of tears. I promised her I would be home the next afternoon. Oh...how I love that child. I talked to Claire for a bit...and The Spousal Unit...told everybody I'd see them the next day. It's good to be missed y'all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, let's see...I still needed to grab a shower and get things packed up...and I still had more than half of that slice of Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake in my mini-fridge calling to me. When I got out of the shower I started thinking about telling my friend Dave the day before how I was going to walk around naked. I giggled...and then I thought, "Why the hell not?" So I did! HAAAAAAAAAA!!! (Yes Dave, I stayed in my room!) Not only did I walk around, but I packed my suitcase, got everything out and ready for the next morning and then...yeah...this one was the good one...I ate the chocolate cheesecake. I highly recommend it...all of it...should you ever get the chance. ; )</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To say I had mixed emotions the next morning was an understatement. I missed my kids...but I didn't want to leave my own private little vacation spot either. There were tears when I drove away from the hotel. I headed back towards my mall. I had planned on getting another henna tattoo and then grabbing a quick lunch...you know where.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The girl who does the henna wasn't working that day...and I had at least an hour to kill before The Cheesecake Factory opened. Sooo...guess where I went? Yeah...I went back for another massage! One of the gentlemen was out in front of the shop. He said something to me which I didn't hear. I stepped closer, he put his arm around me and said, "Free sample?" I said, "How about if I just go ahead and pay you?" We walked into the shop and the woman from the day before actually <strong><em>shouted</em></strong> when she saw me. She ran over to us, gave me a huge hug, and I said, "I told you I'd be back!" She put her arm around me and said, "Table!?" The day before I had had a chair massage, apparently I was to have no more of those...I was going straight to the table! It was blissful...but in a different way. This one was downright painful. Again, he was working out knots that I didn't even realize were there. Every so often he'd say, "Ok lady?" I'd just squeak, "yes!" and he kept doing what he was doing. Now...does anyone find it as paradoxical as I do that me, the one who hates to be touched, lets some guy who I normally wouldn't even allow to share my airspace, put his hands all over me and then I sit up and say thank you, hand him money...and come back for more the next day?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I thought about buying another bracelet...but there were too many choices as to what I could put on it to commemorate this trip. "<strong><em>God</em></strong> he was <strong><em>CUTE</em></strong>"..."<strong><em>fuck,fuCK,FUCK</em></strong>"..."I can <em><strong>do</strong></em> this." Actually folks, the "I can do this" is seriously being considered for the next tattoo...it means <strong><em>that</em></strong> much to me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I made my way towards my own personal restaraunt nirvana, I realized that the service alley beside it, that is usually gated, was wide open. I also noticed someone was back there having a cigarette. Any guesses who it was? I yelled, "You realize that's bad for you...right?" He looked at me like I was certifiably insane and then, his face completely changed...features softened...smiled from the inside out. Ryan yelled back, "HEY! How ya doin'?!" No, he didn't wait on me that day. But it's ok...it's nice to be remembered!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These were my choices for my last meal. It was early, I had a long drive ahead of me, and I figured I should put something in my stomach <strong><em>besides</em></strong> cheesecake beforehand. Yes...even their salads are huge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzDzo1JU-zbBDmqtd4X03f9xvvdrqbVMWOVA0_xtvQm6qUxkrKnHKMu1ALrXcJiksqQe7MchDeoEsWdaG9SA-ggu1iCZFgy75-8i_VtWBqi4d25tq0eLK3PSZlqjP7VFknmS-/s1600/salad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzDzo1JU-zbBDmqtd4X03f9xvvdrqbVMWOVA0_xtvQm6qUxkrKnHKMu1ALrXcJiksqQe7MchDeoEsWdaG9SA-ggu1iCZFgy75-8i_VtWBqi4d25tq0eLK3PSZlqjP7VFknmS-/s320/salad.JPG" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Again, the choice for dessert had been made before I even left home earlier that week. This flavor was making its debut the very next day, but since I'm a fan of TCF on Facebook, I had a coupon to try it for just $1.50 one day early. Yeah...the Reese's Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake Cheesecake was incredible. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2YV5yHqP_iQEd8yjF95k4nfv7MCHvyDLHhF5tVW8TMCXJoNdmTakhVqAhHqs_0P3tx9rJT40hiNJjGUy0HNJEmYTtr4MARJGgsjVf3vEIKy2lOtNSvinxNK0tUVnC2XsVZ6x/s1600/dessert3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip2YV5yHqP_iQEd8yjF95k4nfv7MCHvyDLHhF5tVW8TMCXJoNdmTakhVqAhHqs_0P3tx9rJT40hiNJjGUy0HNJEmYTtr4MARJGgsjVf3vEIKy2lOtNSvinxNK0tUVnC2XsVZ6x/s320/dessert3.JPG" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">I ordered a slice of Adam's Peanut Butter Cup Fudge Ripple to take home for The Spousal Unit and headed for home.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">The drive home was almost as exhilarating as the walking around naked stuff. I had chosen AC/DC for my return trip and kept turning those boys up louder and louder until I could feel the bass line in the driver's door...and my seat...and the steering wheel...and the floor. At one point I glanced at the speedometer and noticed I was going just a tad over the speed limit...by about 30 or so m.p.h. What? I corrected it...shut up!</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">You know what else was pretty cool? Seeing the expression on my Hope's face when she spotted me peeking into her bedroom. You know what was even better? Having both of my girls jump me and smother me with hugs and kisses.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">I can do this.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">P.S. Stay tuned...next post? My 30th High School Reunion</div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-57745926604165093112010-08-04T17:37:00.005-04:002010-08-14T14:19:46.249-04:00Mel's Totally Excellent Cheesecake Adventure---Part OneYes I'm still alive...I'm still growing...I'm still changing...although I have to say I'm ready for someone else to change for a bit...I need a break. ; )<br />
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Taking a vacation this year seemed like the impossible dream. The girls have gotten to the point where having them both in the car for longer than five minutes would drive the most hardened terrorist mad. These kids are the champion tattlers/teasers/talkers. My sanity has been stretched to its outer limits.<br />
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Several weeks ago The Spousal Unit told me to take a few days and just get away from everything. I didn't wait for him to mention it again. I rearranged a few appointments, and gave him my first choice of dates, which was last week. He got that week off for vacation then I started looking for hotels. You know...I'm usually the one who books the hotels, gets tickets etc. That's never bothered me...but this was different...this was just for me. I know...I'm...unique...for lack of a better term. I looked at tons of hotels near where I wanted to disappear to. They were either all booked or were so excessively expensive that I wouldn't have any money left over for fun things...like...food. A friend of mine had recommended a hotel chain he had stayed at numerous times. There wasn't one exactly close to where I wanted to be, but it was available for the dates I wanted and I got a killer online rate.<br />
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The next couple of weeks I kept myself busy, much like any other day. One major project this spring and summer has been to tackle my landscaping. It's not done yet, there is still a great deal I'll need to do next year, but I feel as if I may actually have a handle on things now where that's concerned. This has obviously, upped my physical labor in a major way. I am also still walking for an hour every day if the weather allows. Add to those two things the fact that I'm dealing with a couple more major upheavals which I may or may not share in this forum, the appetite had for the most part disappeared and anorexia was knocking at the door again. I refuse to refer to it as "my" anorexia. That somehow implies ownership...that it needs to be nurtured...tended....cherished. Forget that shit. I implore anyone reading this...do <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> refer to any disease or condition as "yours", unless it's something you truly treasure and want as a part of your life. Myself? I've spent enough time dealing with the sneaky little bastard. It can leave me the hell alone for the rest of my life as far as I'm concerned!<br />
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As my date of departure got closer the little voices got louder. You know..."you can't do this"..."you're going to get lost"..."you're going to get sick"..."you're going to get killed"..."your kids are going to hate you"..."you're a bad mother for leaving them"..."you're selfish"...they were all there along with quite a few more. And with each one of those voices, my appetite left just a little more. On Monday of last week I went in for my yearly check-up. As the nurse was feeling along my spine she said, "Wait a minute...you've lost more weight...haven't you?" I said, "I don't know..." knowing full well I was at least three pounds under my danger weight. She checked the chart and said, "You've lost four more pounds. You can't afford to lose four more pounds. What are you going to do about it?" I said, "I'm going away tomorrow and eat cheesecake for three days." She said, "That's a good start." I also told her that the mood swings are getting worse. She told me to try adding a Vitamin D supplement every day. I'll get back to you on that one.<br />
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That night we took the girls to their first baseball game. We all had such a good time...but I couldn't eat. I managed to get down a pretzel. The next morning...the very thought of breakfast made me sick to my stomach. I loaded the Jeep, threw a bag of oyster crackers on the seat beside me, hugged my kids, and hit the road. As I told several people, "This is either going to cure me or kill me."<br />
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The weather last Tuesday was perfect. The drive was gorgeous...just me...Rob Thomas...Aerosmith...and lots of trucks. I <strong><em>LOVE</em></strong> trucks...all of them...but I have to say my favorite would be those bearing the Kenworth name. The closer I got to my destination, the heavier the traffic got...the more confusing the directions became...more lanes appeared on the highway. I turned off the CD player so I could concentrate and ended up exactly where I wanted to be. I said a prayer of thanks as I pulled into my parking spot, sent a text to The Spousal Unit telling him I was ok, and started to explore.<br />
<br />
I had chosen to visit one of those...I don't know what they're called...shopping villages? You know...bunches of stores all built to look like a small village or something? I had heard good things about this place and had planned on spending a couple of days checking it out. I hadn't even gotten out of the parking lot before I realized I had either lost or left home without my watch. Well...there you go...I need to go buy a new watch! I found The Fossil Store and spent 15-20 minutes checking out their inventory and chose a couple to try on. When the young man handed me the second watch, I noticed that one of the cabochons was missing from the band. I said, "Umm...it looks like one of the stones is missing already from this one." He was mortified...his manager was mortified...they pulled out a brand new one and handed it to me. At this point? I was having fun. I already knew I was going to buy it...but I said, "Now...none of these stones are going to fall off like that other one did...right? Huh? Right? Are you listening?" After every question I would reach out and flick the guy's arm. He was laughing...he knew I was having fun. So was he. I paid for my purchase while he set the time and the date. I put on my new watch and headed out to take care of "my list". If you've been reading me for any length of time, you know how I am about my lists.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YT1OmpaCzQY6yp6sa01fepqX19mX0RX2n0LmHd76BFwhZXG5sLSL6ep15mSoI8_VrZJp1A0mnf-EiddLfeMCPCrSrRJAULilYE1GjhlaLocKo56CVf9ojgcxIneNQEgVuvGK/s1600/watch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4YT1OmpaCzQY6yp6sa01fepqX19mX0RX2n0LmHd76BFwhZXG5sLSL6ep15mSoI8_VrZJp1A0mnf-EiddLfeMCPCrSrRJAULilYE1GjhlaLocKo56CVf9ojgcxIneNQEgVuvGK/s320/watch.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBXAJ1MyFDZVNf-a6RYCxiU6_m57qmZrzsEt4uK5uEhWab-LgJbSL7KgbIEY1WJA3fWI3myjbLn7gP5p9wp9ZiVf17Gl1fqmMJQVw9zEGJLXGmbo-41fOjYUUayQX7VuhQg5O/s1600/watch2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXBXAJ1MyFDZVNf-a6RYCxiU6_m57qmZrzsEt4uK5uEhWab-LgJbSL7KgbIEY1WJA3fWI3myjbLn7gP5p9wp9ZiVf17Gl1fqmMJQVw9zEGJLXGmbo-41fOjYUUayQX7VuhQg5O/s320/watch2.JPG" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I took care of my 5 for $25 Victoria's Secret fix next. I'm addicted. I don't care. I've decided you can't have too many cute pairs of panties. Thank you.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>I wandered around some more and realized I felt hungry. It was too early for lunch but I managed to find an Auntie Anne's and grab one of their deliciously buttery and salty hot pretzels to tide me over. More walking...more looking...more exploring...rest break.<br />
<br />
Now...this is one of those things I <em>wish</em> I had invented. Seriously...just making the door wider and giving it an overlap so you have more privacy in the stall..and hide your hiny. Yes, I took a flash picture...yes there was someone in the stall next to me. Honestly, you should know me well enough by now to know...<em>I DON'T CARE</em>.<br />
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I also discovered the "new generation" of hand dryers. Dear Lord! They really work! They also blow so hard you feel like you're in some type of astronaut training exercise and your jewelry/clothing/skin is going to shoot off of your body. But yes...they do work. And no...I didn't get a picture of that.<br />
<br />
I continued to meander through "the village" and ended up at Macy's. I was almost out of Sensuous and I figured Macy's should have an Estee counter. I was right...I didn't have to go too far. As luck would have it, Pam, as she introduced herself, had one gift set left. It was the largest bottle they make, plus body lotion, plus shower gel, all for the same price as just the large bottle of perfume. Of course, before I could pay her she had to ask if I would like to partake in any of their free services. She gave me a brochure and I was reminded of the last Estee makeover I had gotten probaby 20 years ago. To be fair? I've also gotten great make-up tips and advice from the Estee employees. This one was just...well...not. She used a Kleenex to put the foundation on and then I don't know...a trowel for the rest of the make-up. I had most of it wiped off before I got out of the store. But...here I was...on my first solo adventure...and Pam was being so nice...so I told her I'd let her do one of the lip treatments. It was supposed to make my lips look fuller. I had to laugh...she made me take off my lipstick...and the shade she chose for my "makeover"...was the exact same Estee shade she made me wipe off. It was fun to be pampered...I paid her for my Sensuous...thanked her...walked outside...and wiped it off! HAAAAA!!! Yeah...thanks Pam...but I'll do my own make-up.<br />
<br />
I finished my tour, was starting to get hot...and hungry...and grouchy. I put my packages in the Jeep, grabbed my nook, and headed into Barnes and Noble to cool off before I tried to put food into my stomach. I powered up my nook, didn't see anything new/free in store that I needed to download and sat contentedly for the next 20 minutes or so in the quiet, air conditioned comfort...reading. One last pitstop and...off to The Cheesecake Factory!<br />
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Yes...that was my lunch...<em>and</em> dinner. Those mashed potatoes were the best thing I've ever tasted and the spicy corn succotash was to <em>die</em> for. The cajun spiced chicken was also good but <strong><em>geez</em></strong>! I have no idea how many pieces of chicken were there to begin with but there were well over a dozen left when I was finished! The servers are supposed to recommend their favorite flavor of cheesecake for your dessert. It didn't matter what she said, I had already picked out my flavor before I left home several days previous. I love poring over the menus online and deciding what I want well in advance! It just so happened that her favorite and my choice were exactly the same! Adam's Peanut Butter Cup Fudge Ripple...with chunks of peanut butter cups...and Butterfinger...and...yummmmmm..... Oh, and yes, there was at least half of this left over for later as well. ; )<br />
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I put lunch in the win column. I ate...I chatted with the young couple next to me...I read a few more chapters...I enjoyed the air conditioning.<br />
<br />
I glanced at my new watch and saw that it was time to hit the road. My hotel was at least 30 minutes away, check-in time was fast approaching, I had a Jeep full of supplies that had been sitting in the heat for hours, and I wanted to be <strong><em>off</em></strong> of the highways before rush hour. Back in the Jeep...look over my directions one last time...get the heck out of there. Well...shortly after pulling out of the parking lot I was headed the wrong direction. No big, it was basically all a big circle and I righted myself after a trip around the block. Back on the highway...going the right direction...check. Traffic...ick. Four to six lanes...ick. Somehow ended up going the wrong direction. I believe I said...ummm...."fuck". Yeah...I know I said that.<br />
<br />
I actually recognized where I was at, got off at the next exit and was able to enter the highway going the right direction. So...now I'm watching for my exit and am happy to see that the numbers are actually going towards the number I'm looking for instead of away. I'm happy as a clam...save for all the loony traffic around me and not having a clue as to where I'm going. I'm watching the exit numbers and see that mine should be next! Guess what...it wasn't. Mine was skipped. Yeah...another "fuck"...only this one was more like "FUCK!" I looked at my directions again...I was exactly where they told me I should be...and yet...no exit. At this point it became, "<strong>fuck, fuCK, <em>FUCK</em></strong>!" followed by, "<strong>I CAN <em>DO</em> THIS</strong>!" (That same person who recommended the hotel, told me at least twice before, when I felt like I was falling apart, "<strong>YOU CAN <em>DO</em> THIS</strong>!" Well, I don't get to hear his voice anymore. I think he's going through his own changes right now. I pray I equipped him with at least a small fraction of the skills he gave me.) So...I repeated again, "<strong>I CAN DO THIS</strong>!" I saw what lane I needed to be in and of course I wasn't anywhere near it. I started changing lanes and ended up right where the highway splits...it was either exit and get lost or drive like I used to in college...I called it "offensive driving"...and stay the course. You may remember? I can do this. I slowed to almost a stop in the split, waited until I saw a chance, and took it. Shortly after that, my exit appeared. I was never so happy to see anything in my entire life. Again, following the friend's directions of left, then two short rights, I was sitting in the hotel parking lot, breathing a huge sigh of relief. I didn't throw up...I didn't call for help...I didn't cry...I didn't come unglued. I just did it. <br />
<br />
Another new adventure...checking in at a hotel. Again...I know...I'm unique. Got checked in, unpacked, sent an email home saying I was at the hotel, and collapsed into the desk chair to check my email. While I enjoyed my triumph I chatted with a friend online. He asked me what I was going to do for the rest of the evening. I told him I was going to check out what was going on downstairs, hit the treadmill for an hour or so, grab a shower and finish my leftovers. After that...no idea. He kept pressing so I said, "Well...maybe walk around naked. God knows I haven't done that in ages." He made me promise to stay in the room if I was going to do that. ; )<br />
<br />
I stuck pretty much to that schedule! Ok, I didn't finish my leftovers but I did put a dent in them. Hope called after swimming lessons and I talked to both girls and The Spousal Unit while I watched the Indians beat the Yankees. I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and fell asleep listening to the <strong><em>trucks</em></strong> on the highway. ")<br />
<br />
Oh, and the walking around naked bit? I saved that for the next day. ")<br />
<br />
Stay tuned...for Part Two...of Mel's Totally Excellent Cheesecake Adventure...same blog time...same blog channel...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-82480070218301767132010-07-15T17:57:00.002-04:002011-05-02T23:26:30.297-04:00Deep Thoughts...Not By Jack Handy“Why are people...in general...no matter WHAT their sexual predisposition soooooo freakin' screwed up? It's like we grab onto SOMEONE and hang on for dear life...doesn't matter if it's good for the one doing the hanging on or the one being held. Gads...is it all just the habit or the routine thing? It becomes a habit...or routine...and we just continue doing it even though it has outlived its usefulness sometimes by years? Fear? Of being alone...of change...of having to look at yourself, who you are...your faults...of facing whatever it is that made you this way in the first place?”<br />
<br />
Yeah...those are mine...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-49379790592136177852010-05-27T15:50:00.001-04:002011-05-02T23:24:12.239-04:00Mel...All My Best...Tracks 1 and 2I can sing. Yes, that's one thing I've always believed I can do. I've got a decent voice...untrained...but decent. I've even been paid to sing...more than once...so obviously someone else thinks I'm ok at it too.<br />
<br />
As I've been going through a lot of my old...and new tunes...I've stumbled across some that I would <em>love</em> to record. You know...a cover CD "Mel Sings The Hits...Of Other People". This is going to be an ongoing project. I'm not putting them in any specific order as to which ones are the most significant to me or anything like that. The criteria I am using are fairly simple...I love the song...it has meaning for me...and it suits my voice. There are a <strong><em>lot</em></strong> of songs that meet the first two conditions but if I don't think I can do it justice I won't put it on <em>my</em> CD. ; ) Like anything by Martina McBride...she's got some phenomenal songs...at <strong><em>least</em></strong> four I'd love to take a shot at...but that little girl sings from her gut...nobody can belt one out like she can... I'm not even going to try. ; ) So here goes:<br />
<br />
I actually did record myself singing this song in the late 90's...just messing around with the settings on my computer one afternoon.<br />
<br />
Track One<br />
I'm Making Believe by Ella Fitzgerald and The Ink Spots<br />
Songwriters: Gordon Mack; James V. Monaco<br />
<br />
I'm making believe that you're in my arms<br />
Though I know you're so far away.<br />
Making believe, I'm talking to you,<br />
Wish you could hear what I say.<br />
<br />
And here in the gloom, of my lonely room,<br />
We're dancing like we used to do.<br />
Making believe, is just another way of dreaming,<br />
So 'til my dreams come true.<br />
<br />
I'll whisper goodnight,<br />
Turn out the light and kiss my pillow,<br />
Making believe its you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CK15L55CtGc&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CK15L55CtGc&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div><br />
This song has been done so many times by so many incredible voices. I've actually combined two of my favorites here. The lyrics listed are those used by Miss Billie Holiday...what a presence. The video version is Ella's...I am a purist. This is the version with the full orchestra...I prefer just Ella and the piano. ; )<br />
<br />
Track Two<br />
But Not For Me by Ella Fitzgerald<br />
Songwriter: George Gershwin<br />
<br />
They're writing songs of love, but not for me.<br />
A lucky star's above, but not for me.<br />
With love to lead the way <br />
I've found more clouds of grey <br />
Than any Russain play could guarantee.<br />
I was a fool to fall and get that way; <br />
Heigh-ho! Alas! And also, lack-a-day!<br />
Although I can't dismiss the mem'ry of his kiss, I guess he's not for me.<br />
<br />
He's knocking on a door, but not for me.<br />
He'll plan a two by four, but not for me. <br />
I know that love's a game; <br />
I'm puzzled, just the same, <br />
Was I the moth or flame?<br />
I'm all at sea.<br />
<br />
It all began so well, but what an end!<br />
This is the time a feller needs a friend, <br />
When ev'ry happy plot ends with the marriage knot, <br />
And there's no knot for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FnfUN6bBAg4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FnfUN6bBAg4?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-67582333704336098102010-05-25T22:35:00.001-04:002010-10-30T20:46:01.496-04:00Your Future"You can't run away from your future. You have to run to it...no matter how far it is." ~ Allison Dubois on Medium<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-78907145971476950962010-05-19T15:13:00.004-04:002010-05-19T19:59:00.040-04:00Jim<div style="text-align: center;"><div align="left"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysRrtKevHmOGtq36IsD1VC2AITF2esiVrVBEK4iyH04088KO7PVMlIRftk3NtNS6vzc4d7RUT80Mj2uktwtse-XxNZrAf8B0qw9KCfHwvgniE4aJUvFu1wFnlooj5QDC0NFg_/s1600/jim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysRrtKevHmOGtq36IsD1VC2AITF2esiVrVBEK4iyH04088KO7PVMlIRftk3NtNS6vzc4d7RUT80Mj2uktwtse-XxNZrAf8B0qw9KCfHwvgniE4aJUvFu1wFnlooj5QDC0NFg_/s320/jim.jpg" width="229" wt="true" /></a></div><div align="left"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why am I sitting alone tonight,</div><div style="text-align: center;">when I could be out where the lights are bright?</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's all because of Jim, it's all because of Jim.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why am I wasting these precious years?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Why am I crying these bitter tears?</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's all because of Jim, it's all because of Jim.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Jim doesn't ever bring me pretty flowers,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Jim never tries to cheer my lonely hours,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't know why I'm so crazy for Jim.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Jim never tells me I'm his heart's desire.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I never seem to set his love afire</div><div style="text-align: center;">Gone are the years I've wasted on him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes when I get feeling low,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I say, "Let's call it quits."</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I hang on and let him go</div><div style="text-align: center;">Breaking my heart in bits.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some day I know that Jim will up and leave me,</div><div style="text-align: center;">But even if he does you can believe me,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll go on carrying the torch for Jim.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The first time I heard that song I was standing in the garage at my old condo. It was a beautiful summer morning, I had just returned from my walk and I was getting ready to paint several interior doors that were laid out on sawhorses in front of me. As soon as I heard the third line I ran out into the driveway and looked across the circle hoping beyond hope that our neighbor Opal was on her patio...or in her garage...or by her window...or standing in the middle of the street. No...I'd never actually seen her standing in the middle of the street...I'm embellishing. She was nowhere to be found. I went back into the garage and finished listening to that song...giggling like a schoolgirl the entire time. I got busy with my painting and within an hour she appeared in my garage to see how I was doing. I told her that I had just heard a song that reminded me of her and I sang what little I could remember of it. She said, "Oh!" and then continued, "Jim doesn't ever bring me pretty flowers..." We both burst out laughing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The reason this song was so important? Well, Jim of course! Opal and Jim lived across from us for gosh, was it fifteen years? We couldn't have asked for better neighbors. They were the very first people we told when we decided to adopt from China. Although I love both of them dearly, I spent most of my time with Jim. I think the first time I met him I was having a minor freak-out about the guys in my house who were currently putting in all of the new carpet. I was standing on the sidewalk near the mailboxes. He came up to me and asked me what was wrong. Now, this was pretty major in and of itself because we'd never seen him talking to anyone before and by all appearances he seemed for lack of a better term, extremely gruff. I told him what was going on. He then told me how his wife was in the hospital, battling cancer, but it looked like she was going to be just fine. Then he said, "You want to go for a walk?" Two things began that day...my love for walking...and my friendship with Jim.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Jim and I walked together numerous times over the years. He had his route, I had mine, but if we ever crossed paths we'd walk together, or I'd change my route. ; ) On one of those chance encounters he said, "I need to go get a gallon of milk. Walk with me." And so I did. For years he'd walk all the way downtown to meet his buddies for coffee at one of the local coffee shops. When that place went out of business, they were welcomed into another. A couple of years ago after I dropped Hope off at school, Claire and I stopped by to see how he was doing. He was waiting on one of his buddies to come and pick him up for coffee. He couldn't walk that far any longer. He invited Claire and I in where he proceeded to tease her mercilessly...much like he had done to me for years. She took it much like her Mama did...she gave as good as she got. When his ride didn't show he asked if I'd drop him off downtown. We all piled into the Jeep and before we had even gotten out of the condo development he said, "Make sure you drop me off right in <strong><em>front</em></strong> of the coffee shop. I want to make sure that everyone sees I got a ride from my girlfriend and there's a baby in the car."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't remember exactly at what point he started referring to me as his girlfriend...it doesn't matter...I took it and still take it as high praise. Jim was a cross between...oh...the two lead characters in the <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0107050/">Grumpy Old Men</a> movies...and the father from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sh-t-My-Dad-Says/dp/0061992704/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1274295301&sr=8-1">Shit My Dad Says</a>. He was also sweet, and kind, and totally endearing. His speech was sprinkled liberally with colorful epithets. He had extremely strong opinions about just about everything and wasn't afraid to share them. The word that comes to mind is curmudgeon. I hold no negative connotations to that label. I love curmudgeons...and curmudgeons have always loved me. It's a gift. ; )</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We spent quite a lot of time in or around each other's flowerbeds. We had very different tastes, but still appreciated each other's work. Every year he'd plant several pots of begonias and say, "Now don't you think those are pretty?" Each year I'd tell him the same thing, "I suppose so...if you like begonias." He'd give a little growl...followed by a smile...sometimes even a laugh. I'd tease him about the number of tomato plants he'd put in. I was usually told, "Shut up." He would appear behind me while I was weeding...scare the living daylights out of me. I tend to weed by "standing on my head" as The Spousal Unit calls it. I don't sit, I bend...and stick my backside up in the air. Jim, or The Old Man as I took to calling him, never missed a chance to point this out. Once he yelled something across the circle at me while I was in said position. Me, being me of course, continued what I was doing, and yelled through my legs, "What?!" He eventually walked over and let me know that I had one of the prettiest "backs" he'd ever seen. If it wasn't my "back" it was my legs. I heard about those frequently. Once he added, "They remind me of my wife's legs." <strong><em>That</em></strong> one will never be forgotten. And as for him "never bringing me pretty flowers"? Simply untrue. He brought me at least one red rose that I can remember...and when we were getting ready to move he gave me one of his flower boxes. He said, "You're going to have to have some flowers at that new place. Here's something to get them started in."<br />
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I've got a million little Jim Gems...like...<br />
<br />
He was working in his flowerbeds while I was standing in the circle talking to someone. If I remember correctly it was my brother. After he left, Jim walked over, put his finger in my face and said, "You, young lady, are a flirt." I leaned in and said, "It takes one to know one...young man." I hadn't had that out long before I got a swat across the butt with his garden spade. ; )</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">He got out his hibachi one spring, put it under the tree in his front yard, and lit the coals. I have no idea how much starter fluid he used but I kid you not, the flames were shooting at least four feet in the air. I remember driving past him, standing right there next to it, flames inches from his face. I could hardly keep from laughing...he just smiled and waved. Shortly thereafter he brought the hibachi and all of it's supplies over and offered it to The Spousal Unit.<br />
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Jim and Opal used to spend their winters in Florida. Garry and I would spend two weeks every January or February at Walt Disney World. During our last trip as a couple, we stopped in for a visit. Jim had just gotten out of the hospital and I was, well, scared. When we got there he was sitting in a chair, under a blanket and he just didn't look like...Jim. Yet, when I walked in, his smile lit the entire room. His fire returned...his eyes sparkled again...it was one of the best gifts I have ever received. He got up out of the chair and showed us their home. In one room there must have been at <em>least</em> three dozen pairs of his shoes lined up on the floor. You guessed it...I smarted off about it...called him "Imelda". He offered up a few dozen choice words about my mouth...but I got a hug later. I think I even got two. Oh, and yes, I called him Imelda several times after that.<br />
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He was an avid sports fan. You know me...born without the sports gene and proud of it. It galled him no end that I had no interest in golf...or Ohio State football. Politics? Ours couldn't have been any farther apart. He referred to a certain president as "Your President" and he knew I had no love for "His President". None of it mattered...none of it.<br />
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I bake pies several times a year for the church suppers. This didn't go unnoticed. One day he finally said, "Why don't you ever bake <strong><em>me</em></strong> a pie?" I said, "What kind do you want?" He replied, "Apple." I think I baked him at least 3-4 over the years. He always said the same thing, "You make a good crust." Again...coming from Jim? High praise.<br />
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Oftentimes if I was baking cookies and saw either of them out I'd take a plate over. One such day was exactly two weeks after 9/11. I had baked gingersnaps...and I was more than uneasy. Garry had been ordered to fly to Dallas for a meeting that day. I will never forget sitting in their cozy, warm kitchen with the two of them...eating cookies and sipping tea. I mentioned being scared. Jim looked at me and there was none of the usual michief in his gaze. He said, "You can't be afraid. You can't let those people make you afraid. If you do? They win." That's all it took...just those few words from a decorated World War II veteran. I felt safe again. He knew that too, because he immediately got up from the table and ordered me to help him hang a shelf. My job consisted of holding the tools and handing him whatever he needed. At one point I was told, "Ok, now hold her steady." I looked over my shoulder at Opal, grinned, then grabbed him around his waist, braced my legs and said, "Ok! I've got you!" He looked at Opal...he looked at me...shook his head and said, "The ladder...the <strong><em>LADDER</em></strong>." We knew what he meant...but where's the fun in that?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Again, I've got a million of them, but I'll end with this one because it is <em>so</em> Jim:<br />
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One summer quite a few homes and condos in our area were vandalized. Things were stolen, landscaping was ripped up, cars and homes were spray painted. Our fence and birdfeeders were spray painted, and our phone line was cut. The police sent an officer out early that morning to assess the damage. He and I walked around the outside of our unit and I pointed out what I had found. After he left I went across the circle as Opal had graciously offered the use of her phone so I could call the phone company to come out and repair our line. I had no sooner ended my call when Jim said, "Hey!" I'm not sure, but I think that's what he called me the most, "Hey!" I said, "Yes Jim?" He said, "Were you wearing a shirt when ______ came to your door?" He called the police officer by his first name...I don't think there were too many people in town that Jim didn't know. I raised my eyebrows at him and said, "What?" He said, "I watched the two of you walk around the side of your building. I swear you weren't wearing a shirt." My reply was something to the effect of, "Yes Jim. I know that when a police officer is going to be stopping by, I always make sure I'm not wearing a shirt."<br />
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If you haven't guessed it already, Jim is gone. I was reading the paper on Sunday and there "it" was...in the obituaries...Jim. 90 years old...leaving behind an amazing wife, two wonderful children, two loved beyond measure grandchildren, and more friends than you can count. I can't imagine what they are going through. I only had the smallest piece of him and I can barely function. I asked Garry if he would call Opal and see if there was anything we could do. I couldn't...I still don't think I can. He said she sounded like Opal...which is a very good thing but she is of course, going through one <strong><em>MAJOR</em></strong> adjustment. He said the last thing she said was, "Tell her (Mel) that just because he's not here anymore...doesn't mean she still can't come and visit."<br />
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Earlier this week, Claire and I went out to buy a sympathy card. I wanted something with flowers on it...and nothing sappy. I didn't have a whole lot of luck. Each one I picked up was even worse than the one before it. I could actually hear him saying, "Ohhh God..." as I read the saccharine sentiments to myself. I was just about to give up when I picked up this one:</div><br />
Some men leave their mark</div><div style="text-align: center;">on the world</div><div style="text-align: center;">by the way they live</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the difference they make</div><div style="text-align: center;">in the lives they touch.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">It didn't have any flowers on it, but the words were perfect. Jim <strong><em>LIVED</em></strong>. I've said it before about certain special people in my life...they have a spark...or a light that draws me to them. Jim had a <em><strong>FIRE</strong></em>...much like the flame he was cultivating on his hibachi that spring. The man lived life on his terms...and he died the same way. Never have I loved a human being the way I continue to love him. And he was...is...the only human who ever told me he loved me...that I never doubted.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">This spring I am going to fill that flower box that he gave me with begonias...and every successive spring that I am allowed to spend here on this earth. I can't help but remember the last time I talked to Opal on the phone. I heard him mumbling in the background. She said, "Did you hear that?" I said, "No...what's he on about now?" She replied, "Jim says, 'Tell my girlfriend I still love her.' "</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I love you too Old Man...I love you too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some day I know that Jim will up and leave me,</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">But even if he does you can believe me,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'll go on carrying the torch for Jim.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-12739730095444350712010-05-08T17:58:00.002-04:002010-05-08T18:00:03.438-04:00Yeah...I Did. And I'd Do It Again Too!Shopping Update...Shopping Update...Shopping Update...<br />
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I went to Kohls today looking for some size 4 capris. Forget that...all the 4's I tried on in the "Ladies" or "Misses" departments looked like old lady pants. The Juniors section did however have at least three pairs (size 7) that are now a part of my wardrobe. I also bought two wildly exciting (not) camis to wear under other tops.<br />
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The bras were on sale...<a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/05/abc-wednesday-are-those-real.html">you <strong><em>KNOW</em></strong> how much I love shopping for those</a>. Well, I needed one of the convertible strap deals for a top I bought a couple of weeks ago. So I took a deep breath and dove in headfirst. I chose four practical ones...and one that was just damn cute. The first practical one I tried on actually fit. <strong>WOOT</strong>! <em>That's</em> never happened before. The damn cute one fit too. I freakin' rock. So it wasn't black with green polka dots...but it does scream Mel...I just wish you could see that the back straps are bright yellow and black zebra print!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnImUUYfkhPdUAPHE_YU2jw3tt9vdEKX-y9ezxsC6Y_FPv8CsiawWh_oeEXt5Y3cvsnVH8YUucfCkDmuAtv-8ebGGjqU-98GLOzo3NeliNV-HcP4OgoDdmnlmp28-nVDtQX_f/s1600/bra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnImUUYfkhPdUAPHE_YU2jw3tt9vdEKX-y9ezxsC6Y_FPv8CsiawWh_oeEXt5Y3cvsnVH8YUucfCkDmuAtv-8ebGGjqU-98GLOzo3NeliNV-HcP4OgoDdmnlmp28-nVDtQX_f/s200/bra.jpg" tt="true" width="200" /></a></div><br />
Yeah...it's sparkly...it's shiny...it's cute...and it's mine. And no, that isn't me in the picture. ; p<br />
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Nothin' but love for y'all,<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-58836598183280095152010-05-06T15:39:00.012-04:002010-05-07T09:12:40.871-04:00Things That Make Me SmileI need this post today. I need this <em>exercise</em> today. My mind is not where it should be. It is lingering in dark places...focusing on things I can do absolutely nothing about...dwelling on too many unknowns...searching for answers to questions I may never have. I woke up this way. In the past if I had gotten out of bed in this kind of mood my entire day would be shot. Lots of tears...lots of time wasted waiting for someone or something to make me feel better. Well folks, one thing I've learned these last months? Nobody is going to do it for you. Write it down...stitch it into a sampler...tattoo it on your forehead: Nobody is going to do <strong>anything</strong> for you. Learn how to do things for yourself. <strong><em>You</em></strong> have the best answers for you.<br />
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So how do I get out of these moods? Well, some days I never fully do. But I am able to function without becoming a gelatinous pool of tears and sorrow. In all honesty, I've had more days filled with smiles in the last two or three months than I've had for the last several years. Do I recommend that all of you do it this way? Are you kidding me? Good Lord no. Again...<em>you</em> have the best answers for you. If opening up to friends, family, health care professionals, or your clergy works then <em><strong>DO</strong></em> IT! If eating ice cream six times a day and going skydiving naked appeals to you I say go for it. If you are so lost in the darkness that you need medical treatment to get out? Do <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> hesitate to seek out that help.<br />
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All right how do I start one of these days? Well, as I do most days. I get out of bed, get myself ready, feed and medicate the cats, get the girls up, dressed and fed, and get Hope on the bus before 8:30. After that, I sit down with my breakfast and my laptop, check my email, find out what's going on in the world, and finish by checking out what new ways Facebook is pimping me and my information out for that day. Each day I update my status...and on days like today I <em>want</em> to send out an emotional booty call. You know...vaguebooking at it's best? "My life sucks...why me...why must I go through something like this?" Yeah, I used to do that. Key words here being <strong>USED TO</strong>. That kind of thinking is a drug. All I was doing was putting out an all call for somebody else to come and make me feel better. I'd end up sitting at the computer basking in the warmth and sympathy of all those responding and end up feeling worse than I had when I started. I found that I quickly became used to it and craved even more attention. Well, no thanks. I've pulled myself out of that one and I'm <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> going back.<br />
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My statuses now alternate between what I'm actually doing, song lyrics, quotes, plain old smartass commentary, and inspirational messages. When I feel like crap, chances are more than good you'll find an inspirational message. First of all, that's probably going to resonate with someone reading it and possibly put a smile on his/her face. Secondly it smacks down the irrational thoughts in my head by replacing the negative with a positive. Does that keep the negativity at bay all day? Nope, but it's a damn good start.<br />
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Oh...my status for today?<br />
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Life is short...embrace those you love...treasure those who make you smile...hold close those who make you a better person...be the person you <em>want</em> to be...take a chance...reach out to someone who misses you...LIVE...start today. Don't deceive your free will at all...just receive it.---mostly Mel with a little help from Yes<br />
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<div align="center">Things That Make Mel Smile</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">1. Walking---yeah...still. I don't think there is another soul out there that gets how important this is to me. I am not being sarcastic when I tell you that my walks are what hold me together. My grip on sanity is tenuous at best. Without that hour at least six times a week I can just hang it up here and now. It's not just the exercise, although that is <em>the</em> major point. It's getting out...enjoying the sunshine...the breeze on my face. Having no responsibility other than what tunes I am listening to, keeping my stride short, not coming down too hard on my heels, and aligning my body to work either my legs, butt, or core. (I know...I'm a geek. Get used to it. I <em>revel</em> in it.)<br />
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At least once a week I run into someone and we'll stop and chat for a bit. If it's one of the many dogs on my route I have to stop and make a fuss...especially over the latest addition...world's cutest eight week old Boston Terrier. Of course, if I run into Phil we chat for more than a bit because we have to know what each other is listening to, which leads to him singing to me and then we start discussing friends from high school. Phil is my former high school history teacher. He has sung to me each and every time he's seen me in the last 30+ years. Phil makes me smile.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">2. Music---again...yeah...still. The songs have changed though. Before they were, for lack of a better explanation, picking at scabs. The walls were down but all the hurts were still there and needed to be experienced before the healing could begin. After everything was left raw and bleeding I transitioned into a phase of healing. For whatever reason I found myself going through a bunch of my old country CD's and then downloading even more country music online. Thank you Randy Travis, Marty Stuart, Martina McBride, Brad Paisley, Diamond Rio, and Hal Ketchum. I can proudly tell you those scabs are now healed. There are still scars...there always will be. But they are a badge of honor to prove to myself that I've done it...I've made it through. Oh, and my "Then You Stand" bracelet? I've worn it every day...the heart is scratched, battered, and scarred...but still beautiful...still worth loving...just like my own.</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">So what's next? Well, I've moved into my "rebuilding" phase. No, I'm not rebuilding the walls. I'm rebuilding Mel. There were a lot of good things about old Mel. I can't tell you how many people have looked me straight in the eye and said, "Mel, you were pretty special to begin with. That's all part of who you are too...don't lose <em>her</em>!" So maybe "integrating" would be a better term. What am I listening to now? Well, my musical tastes have always run a pretty wide gamut. I'm told weekly if not daily by one family member or another that my taste in music sucks. It doesn't bother me anymore. It is, after all, <strong><em>MY</em></strong> taste in <strong><em>MY</em></strong> music. Right now I'm obsessing over AC/DC. When The Spousal Unit heard it he said, "<strong><em>YOU'RE</em></strong> listening to AC/DC? You used to call that Devil Music!" So I did...and now I don't. I hear a certain one of their songs in my head whenever I walk into a new situation...makes me stand taller...gives me <em>immense</em> confidence...and maybe even a bit of a swagger. No, I'm not going to tell you which one...it'll be more fun for you to decide! Also in heavy rotation...Clay Walker, Carrie Underwood, Dido, Rascal Flatts, Keith Urban, Annie Lennox and a few dozen more.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsxRa1_E4ryrUSR7HCfD2FNAoNBQfxTb6ZJr9y_ViIXSsS04iVEieWLDDXW1C3822E2dVQtnoI0D5HdB4Nz9afenf0KWKaqslRe4Kg7DzEFI8o5bIaPW1bV9MTxjVFMh6ko1i/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsxRa1_E4ryrUSR7HCfD2FNAoNBQfxTb6ZJr9y_ViIXSsS04iVEieWLDDXW1C3822E2dVQtnoI0D5HdB4Nz9afenf0KWKaqslRe4Kg7DzEFI8o5bIaPW1bV9MTxjVFMh6ko1i/s320/2.JPG" tt="true" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">3. Going <strong>RED</strong>---Yes that's <strong>RED</strong> not red. At one point in my life I was blonde...yeah...I'm not a blonde. I may have been born with brown hair, but this girl was born to be a <strong>REDHEAD</strong>. I've had many different shades...light, dark, natural, copper...but I'm happiest when it's <strong>RED</strong>. My last shade was pretty. It was very dark...I didn't like it. So when I went in a couple of weeks ago and my stylist asked me, "Well? What would you like this time?" I said, of course, "<strong>RED</strong>!" She said, "Okaaaay." I said, "I want CFM <strong>RED</strong>." (Ok, I didn't really use the initials...I said the actual words. She's known me for well over 20 years...she and I happen to share a love of "colorful" language.) I said, "I believe in polite society it's referred to as 'Harlot Red'." She said, "We can do that. I have that color." Man did she. This is <strong><em>MY</em></strong> color.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrnHy16WhhxS1F-DJ66dXw-sAa7VqJrMPDGp12Aaj_UOGPyJ5BlMonVNmmQJwQfVsxmUPTMewWVSH80EBMALrYPB6FuLAfIQedaAmAGWM8tJzJ7jqPjEdUp9k8cRtC6WoVWhc/s1600/metallic+sunshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrnHy16WhhxS1F-DJ66dXw-sAa7VqJrMPDGp12Aaj_UOGPyJ5BlMonVNmmQJwQfVsxmUPTMewWVSH80EBMALrYPB6FuLAfIQedaAmAGWM8tJzJ7jqPjEdUp9k8cRtC6WoVWhc/s320/metallic+sunshine.jpg" tt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">4. Shopping---No <em>kidding</em>? More specifically <em>bargains</em>. In my book, bargains are something you actually went shopping for in the first place and got at a great price. I <strong><em>LOVE</em></strong> going to Old Navy, leaving with at <em>least </em>15 items and having spent less than $120. You know...like pants and dresses and shirts for Claire, mittens and jeans and shirts for Hope, socks for both of them, shirts and jeans and a winter coat for me? Yep...I've done it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/06/abc-wednesday-w-is-for-walks.html">beloved green walking shoes</a> finally gave up the ghost. I headed to Shoe Carnival last weekend to see if they had anything. Well...they were having a BOGO 1/2 off sale. I didn't find another pair of green walkers, but I did find a decent pair of blue ones. I'd had my eye on those sweet little Skechers shown above for a couple of months but couldn't see spending almost $40 on a pair of "fun" shoes. Thanks to the sale and my precious green walkers breathing their last breath, I didn't have to.<br />
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My next shopping trip will be for new capris. Last spring when I started walking every day I went from a size 8 to a size 6. Well...being on the treadmill all winter? Yep...all my new size 6's from last year are too big. Time to go shopping for some size 4's!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">5. Smelling Good---I know...something so simple. Let's face it...I'm a girly girl...dare I say...diva. I don't leave the house without make-up. I put lipstick on before I go for my walk for crying out loud. So it just goes to reason that I'd like to smell good too...right? You may remember I found comfort in <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/10/calgontake-me-away.html">Bath & Body Works Black Raspberry Vanilla</a>. That has become my signature scent of late. Hey, when they have a sale where you buy three and get three free? I'm there. So along with my shower gel, lotion, and bubble bath this time I bought some body spray. I'm addicted to the stuff.<br />
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Scent has always been my defining sense. Sight, sound, taste, and touch all work too, but a scent will bring back a memory, a feeling like no other...for me at least! Some of the best compliments I've ever received center around me smelling good. I worked with this one guy...Bill...he's also the one who called me "Mel" for the first time. I walked into his room one morning to ask him a question and before I even finished my sentence he said, "Wow you smell good!" I remember that like it was yesterday...if yesterday happened to be the mid '90's. I also remember the fragrance I was wearing at the time. Once upon a time, before he walked out of my life taking a rather substantial portion of my heart with him, an extraordinary young man told me that my scent was "intoxicating". Now folks? I don't know about y'all? But that was something I'd been waiting my entire life to hear. If a memory like that doesn't stir something inside your soul...you need to get yourself to the nearest hospital and get checked for signs of life. Every single time I think about that comment...I smile...from the inside out.<br />
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6. Cute Underwear---Yes again...something so simple. I have recently settled my dispute with Victoria's Secret as I've actually found something that is cute, fits, and doesn't need Leonard Nimoy to locate it on a regular basis. I'm sorry...was that last reference too obtuse for you? Remember the show, "In Search Of" hosted by Leonard Nimoy? You figure it out. I've also had a major epiphany that I'm allowed to buy cute bras too. So if I see a <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/05/abc-wednesday-are-those-real.html">cute little black number with green polka dots</a> then I'm not going to pass it up in favor of one that won't show under a white t-shirt...I'm going to buy them <em>both</em>.<br />
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7. A Good Cup Of Tea And Some Chocolate In The Afternoon---pretty self explanatory...no?<br />
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8. Going To The Movies---When I was in high school...and college...I spent a lot of time at the movies...by myself. It's just easier that way. It was too much of a hassle to find someone who was willing to go with me. Apparently my taste in film sucks too. ; ) I haven't been to the pictures in ages...the last one I saw was Titanic! I fixed that several months ago by going to see "Sherlock Holmes." LOVED IT! One of the previews they showed was for, of course, Iron Man 2. Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyy.<br />
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Let me just say right now? I do <em>not</em> have a thing for Robert Downey, Jr. He's never even made my list of the top 1000 guys I've ever had a crush on...and no, that list is never going to be posted here for your stalking pleasure. I did enjoy him as Sherlock Holmes and after seeing the preview for Iron Man 2 I made it my duty to procure a copy of the first Iron Man movie. ::sigh:: I'm in deep trouble. Downey's character, Tony Stark is...how shall I say it...hot? I have a patented weakness for his "type". Brilliant, successful, self assured, <em>CONFIDENT</em>...dare I say bordering on cocky...or arrogant? Gets me every time.<br />
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I've been watching the trailer for IM2 for the last week online. Claire seems to share my fascination. She started out by calling him "Toby Dark" but she's since corrected herself. She will tell her sister at least three times a day that the man on Mama's computer is Tony Stark...he's not Iron Man until he puts on the mask. She's also informed me that she wants to be Iron Man for Halloween. That's my girl!<br />
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Yep...Iron Man 2 opens tomorrow. I may not make it on Friday, but you can be sure I'll be AIS this weekend. Happy Mother's Day to me...</div><div align="left"><br />
9. Not Finding Anything New During My Monthly BSE---again...no explanation needed!<br />
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10. Watching My Precious Girl Find Her Strength---While my daughters are probably the chief source of my aggravation, they are also the biggest source of my joy. My darling Hope...she's so timid...so shy...everyone literally walks all over her. She's very much like her mama was at that age. I have worked so hard, trying to get her to stand up for herself...I don't <em>want</em> her to be like me...I want her to find her strength and her center <strong><em>NOW</em></strong> so she won't have to totally deconstruct once she becomes an adult.<br />
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She came home a couple of weeks ago in tears...her "best friend" told her that Americans are prettier than the Chinese. Really? How can you look at that face and <strong><em>SAY</em></strong> something like that? Do you not see the light radiating from her very soul? My heart shredded for her that day...the first of many times I'm sure. I told her that everyone has their own opinion...it doesn't matter what the brat (ok I didn't use that word) thinks. And besides, she's both...she's a Chinese born American. She said, "Mama? Do you think I'm beautiful?" I said, "Didn't Mama tell you that you were the most beautiful baby she'd ever seen?" She crumpled in my arms and we both shed a few tears. After that she bounded out of the room and she and her little sister started playing "Chinese School". If that were the end of it I'd be completely satisfied. However, a couple of days later I was tickling her and started poking her in the belly and on her chest, emphasizing whatever silly words we were using when she said, "Mama. Don't poke me like that. I don't like it." It was nothing short of jaw dropping...she was firm...she was resolute...there was no timidity in her tone. My <strong><em>GOD</em></strong> I was so proud of her. But wait! Last week was her school's Ice Cream Social. We stopped in her room to see what she'd been working on and to say hello to her teacher. On each student's desk was a book they had made called "Here's The Scoop". The first page of Hope's book read, "I'm special because I'm Chinese." Ok...I need a Kleenex now...<br />
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So there you have it. A list of ten things that consistently make me smile. I'd like to leave you with a couple of thoughts from my friend Sherri. Sherri has this talent for pushing all the crap aside and getting to the heart of the matter. It is for that reason in high school that I dubbed her "No Shit Sherri". Sherri came up with the most wonderful saying, "Suffering...a gift we give ourselves." How true is that friends? How many times when we have the <em>CHOICE</em> to be either miserable or not, do we choose misery? I'm not doing it anymore. You have permission to smack me if I do.<br />
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Secondly? She has taught me to take care of myself <strong><em>FIRST</em></strong>. And no, that isn't being selfish. By taking care of Mel first, everything else just seems to fall into place. I am more peaceful, more centered, more able to focus on those around me.<br />
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Be blessed y'all...Happy Mother's Day weekend!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-56729638640963078062010-04-30T16:08:00.000-04:002010-10-30T18:29:00.836-04:00A-freakin-menThis one? This just may be my next tattoo...or at least my next bracelet.<br />
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"It's life Mike...things happen."<br />
A.D.A. Connie Rubirosa on Law & Order<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-21480273910615849622010-04-26T20:18:00.003-04:002011-05-02T23:28:35.097-04:00Variation On A ThemeThe last couple of weeks have been Quote Heaven for me...I need to buy a new notebook.<br />
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"You can't always get what you want. If you did, your life would have no story." W.G. Griffiths<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-42670573413852730702010-04-20T14:35:00.000-04:002010-10-30T18:24:33.581-04:00This Just In...I heard this one just two minutes ago...spoken by Patricia Arquette...as Allison Dubois on Medium:<br />
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"Live your life like it matters."<br />
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I needed this one today like you wouldn't believe...<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-8860866868993715552010-04-17T18:09:00.001-04:002010-10-30T18:22:39.446-04:00FearlessI overheard this little jewel while watching a recent episode of The Tudors. I happened to be holding my laptop at the time and added it to my list of must haves immediately.<br />
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"People are good when they’re afraid. When they’re not afraid they can be anything. I will never be afraid."<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-5517181011854785052010-04-09T18:03:00.007-04:002011-08-03T20:09:54.631-04:00StandingYesterday was freeing, relaxing, amazing, wonderful, familiar, hilarious, fun, eye opening...and totally different. Yep...Mama took another road trip! Not familiar with my first one? You can read about it <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/09/breaking-surface-part-one.html">here</a>.<br />
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I had been thinking about it for a couple months but only actually decided to pull the trigger a week and a half ago. The Spousal Unit usually takes a few days off during Hope's spring break so I seized that opportunity to take a day off myself. While Daddy and the girls went to the library, had lunch at Burger King, and went in search of some kites, Mama took off bright and early and returned to the scene of her first escape.<br />
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Yes...I went back...and while it was eerily similar it was also vastly different. I'm a fair weather driver. I tend to get spooked when I have to drive in less than perfect conditions. My last trip was nothing but blue skies and warm temps. This time? When I left home it was 60 degrees and cloudy. Even before I got out of the county it had begun to rain and the temperature had dropped to 48. I spent an hour and a half driving in rain that fluctuated between drizzle and downpour...yet...I was ok. More than ok actually...I was fine.<br />
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I had trouble sleeping the night before. I had set a goal for myself for the next day and I was pretty nervous about it. I know...I know...I worry about the most ridiculous of things. On my trip last August, when I was leaving my destination to return home, I tried to follow the directions that Google maps had given me. They were...confusing...to say the least. I was thrown into about a dozen lanes of traffic when I was fairly certain I didn't need to be. I had decided that <em>this</em> time I was going to find a back way out of there...and I was going to do it as soon as I got there. Setting goals is new for me...I refused to do it for years because I always expected to fail. Well...no more people...<strong><em>NO MORE</em></strong>.<br />
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Back to my trip...I reached my exit and while I waited at the light to turn right, I had already figured out a better way to leave...in 5-6 hours. ")<br />
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One of the items on my "Things To Look For" list was a new spring jacket. The fact that it was now pouring rain and 48 degrees brought that to the <em>top</em> of my list. I parked outside <a href="http://www.forever21.com/">Forever XXI</a> and ducked inside. Ohhhh...I've never seen so many cute little jackets...it was like stepping inside Cute Cropped Jacket Nirvana! I've honestly never seen so many in one place that I not only liked but would actually wear! But it gets better...there were several very long racks of jackets and coats on clearance. I found the <em>perfect</em> little jean jacket for spring for $15 and yet <em>another </em><strong>perfect</strong> wool coat for next winter for...ready? $25. I was a very happy and very warm girl...and it wasn't even 10:30 in the morning yet!<br />
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Here they are in all their glory. The Spousal Unit's comments? "You got <strong><em>both</em></strong> of them for less than $50?" and "Those <strong><em>scream</em></strong> you."<br />
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I was leaving <a href="http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/">Saks</a> when the young lady who was working the <a href="http://www.maccosmetics.com/">MAC</a> corner said, "I <strong><em>love</em></strong> your jacket!" I thanked her and told her to go down to Forever XXI...it was on sale for $15...I just bought it that morning. She said, "You're <em>kidding</em>! THANK YOU!!!" Later I was meandering around <a href="http://www.delias.com/">Delia's</a> when one of the girls working there said basically the same thing. I told her about both coats I had purchased. She looked at me and said, "Ohhh THANK YOU! You have no idea what you've done...you've just created a <em>monster</em>!" Hey...just doing my job ladies...happy to be of service. ; )<br />
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I did my straight line shopping first...sticking to my list. Folks? I was done by <em>noon</em>! I was giddy. You know...I've been doing a lot of work lately both by myself and with God, about what I want, and what I need. I'll save that topic for another post...but the fact that I had found everything on my list and had it packed in the car before noon? I was such a happy little camper. So what was on the list?<br />
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Well, the basics of course...I needed my 5/$25 fix at <a href="http://www.victoriassecret.com/">Victoria's Secret</a>. Check.<br />
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<a href="http://www.buckle.com/">Buckle</a>. <strong><em>SURPRISE</em></strong>!!! If you remember I still had a <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/11/buckle-me.html">balance on my gift card</a>. I made a beeline straight for the Sinful shirts. It was so early in the day I had my own personal shopper right beside me. She was bringing me armloads of shirts to look at and then she mentioned...jeans. I refuse to even look at jeans at Buckle...I can't see spending that kind of money on a pair of jeans! But...I had the balance on the gift card...and I had an almost full rewards card good for another $10 off. So I told her I'd love to try some on. She asked what size I wore, and how I liked to wear my jeans. I said, "Do you wanna see?" She said, "Sure!" So I raised up my shirt and showed her! Ohhh...her little face was just priceless as she said, "Ok, you like them kind of low." She's right...I do like the low riders...and no...nothing is or <em>was</em> hanging out! She started to load up a room for me. She had at least 6 different pairs of jeans/crops in various sizes and colors...4-5 shirts she thought I might like...and three pairs of shoes to try with the jeans to check the length...all this plus what I had chosen to try on. Before I even picked up any of the jeans I checked their price. I left the pair marked at $120 untouched. There was no <strong><em>WAY</em></strong> I was going to try on something for that price and risk falling in love with them! The first two I tried on were too big...the next pair however? Oh mercy...I've never had anything fit so perfectly in my life. I literally didn't want to take them off. They came home with me as well as another Sinful shirt. Buckle...check.<br />
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A quick stop at <a href="http://www.icing.com/">Icing</a> for a thumb ring for my LEFT hand. They had just the one I wanted. Check.<br />
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Off to The Disney Store for some Princess And The Frog merchandise for the girls. We are obsessed with all things Tiana at our house...again...you'll hear about it in another post. Also picked up a Perry The Platypus for Daddy. Check.<br />
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Did I mention that the mall was hosting an open search for America's Next Top Model that day? Umm...yeah. I saw young hopefuls carrying their information packets with their call numbers on them...I stopped looking at around 290 something. It was a zoo...and putting it as nicely as I can? There was no shortage of self esteem amongst these girls. You figure it out.<br />
<br />
So it's just a bit past noon and I'm finished with my list. I was going to buy another <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/09/breaking-surface-part-one.html">lyric bracelet</a> but I really didn't feel the need to anymore. About a month ago I came home from my walk, took my coat off, and my bracelet was gone. I panicked...it wasn't pretty. That bracelet was concrete proof that I had walked through the fire and lived to tell about it. I was frantic. I went through all my clothes, my coat, looked all over the floor and was just getting ready to go out the door and walk my hour long route again when I remembered hearing something hit the floor when I took my coat off. Yeah...it was all but invisible hanging out from under the refrigerator. Once I calmed down I realized I don't need a bracelet to prove I've changed. I <strong><em>KNOW</em></strong> I've changed. I am not the same person I was this time last year...or even last month. People have been telling me how strong I am since I was 17 years old. Well, ok, it's taken me 30 years, but I get it. I <strong><em>AM</em></strong> strong. I am an amazingly strong broad and I don't need a bracelet to tell me that!<br />
<br />
So I did some window shopping and some people watching and headed to, yes, <a href="http://www.thecheesecakefactory.com/">The Cheesecake Factory</a> for lunch. ") They've discontinued my sinfully delicious Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookie Dough...once they are out of it they aren't making any more. Well, they had a piece left with my name on it. Strangely, it wasn't as good as the last time I was there. But then, things were different this time in a lot of ways. I'm much stronger...no panic attack once I got there...no call from anyone to talk me down...but then there was nothing to talk me down from. I also found myself standing a lot straighter, looking people in the eye, and just generally displaying a lot more confidence than I ever have before.<br />
<br />
After lunch I planned on making one more round of the shops and seeing if there was anything I couldn't live without. When I got off the escalator I was standing in front of <a href="http://www.thingsremembered.com/">Things Remembered</a>...and my heart <strong><em>AND</em></strong> my head were telling me to get another bracelet. I went in, spoke with the clerk who was working, chose a bracelet, and she gave me the work order to fill out. As soon as I had the pen in my hand I knew which lyrics I needed to have engraved on my bracelet. As she was ringing me up she said, "Did you buy another bracelet here about a year ago and have something inspirational put on it as well?" I looked at her and realized it was the same young woman who had waited on me last August. I told her I did. She said, "Yeah, you were out on your own, away from your husband and kids for the first time?" Again, I told her she was correct and I was astonished that anyone would remember something like that...especially...having to do with me. I asked her how her baby was doing. She blushed and said, "He's great! Thanks for asking!"<br />
<br />
I left and did my last round while she did the engraving...checked the prices on a few more things...went into some stores I'd never been in before...grabbed a drink for the ride home...then headed back to pick up my bracelet. When I walked in she went behind the counter and took it out of a little black velvet bag and held it up for me to see. When I saw the words printed out I had to fight back the tears. I choked out, "Thank you..." and then we hugged...just like we have always known each other...just like it happened every day...just like it was the most normal thing in the world. She whispered, "You be careful going home...it's wet out there..." then she put it on my wrist and smiled. I said, "I'll see you in August!" She said she would look forward to it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjD1Xh5PXBMiv_Tz_Db5b-QBI3Uqsj3LC7cgG2I67VagyLiD3JGEwpkTlAc1GSZryQjcqOe8jx6i5zIZYgm853e4XkBaU588JhrC8dBEkNxi-ykER2BgY64n0GWYT7d1-Sah3/s1600/bracelet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjD1Xh5PXBMiv_Tz_Db5b-QBI3Uqsj3LC7cgG2I67VagyLiD3JGEwpkTlAc1GSZryQjcqOe8jx6i5zIZYgm853e4XkBaU588JhrC8dBEkNxi-ykER2BgY64n0GWYT7d1-Sah3/s320/bracelet.JPG" width="320" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
Lessons learned:<br />
<br />
1) I am one strong broad.<br />
2) I am someone worth remembering.<br />
3) Always listen to your heart...especially when it's agreeing with your head!<br />
<br />
This living stuff can be downright pleasurable...can't it?<br />
<br />
Love and hugs y'all,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a><br />
<br />
P.S. Oh! What were the lyrics? "Then You Stand" You can read about their importance to me <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2010/03/then-you-stand.html">here</a>.Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-2215624966038671772010-04-02T13:14:00.001-04:002010-10-30T18:20:43.953-04:00Never EVER Go Back"If you don't go after what you want, you'll never get it. If you don't ask, the answer is always no. If you don't step forward, you're always in the same place."<br />
<br />
The title is mine...the anonymous quote belongs to someone else...I can't really say it any better than that.<br />
<br />
Now get out there and start LIVING!!!!! ")<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-34125061656460324512010-03-28T17:12:00.000-04:002010-10-30T18:16:57.080-04:00Then You StandLast weekend I was in the Jeep, headed to Kohl's for a little retail therapy. I was flipping through the radio stations trying to find something that wasn't a commercial...or a basketball game...or politics...or news. I stopped on a country station. The song had already started. I'd never heard it before, but I knew who it was. I've been listening to so much of their music lately...yep...it was Rascal Flatts.<br />
<br />
I came to a stop at a red light and what I heard literally made me gasp.<br />
<br />
For the last couple of years I've had several seemingly small incidents occur in my life...small to other people...major for me. After each of these occured I've said the same thing, "Another missing piece of the puzzle that is Mel has been dropped into place...another gaping, empty spot has been filled."<br />
<br />
Ok, back to the red light...remember...I've never heard this song before...the bridge began:<br />
<br />
"Everytime you get up and get back in the race<br />
One more small piece..."<br />
<br />
I was crying so hard I was physically shaking...and I was also able to finish the line:<br />
<br />
"...of you seems to fall into place."<br />
<br />
The song is called "Stand" and it has been playing non-stop in my head since then. It has given me more strength, more drive, more determination than I've had in a long time.<br />
<br />
Stand<br />
Rascal Flatts<br />
Songwriters: Eric Blair Daly, Dan Earnest Orton<br />
<br />
You feel like a candle in a hurricane<br />
Just like a picture with a broken frame<br />
Alone and helpless<br />
Like you've lost your fight<br />
But you'll be alright, you'll be alright<br />
<br />
Cause when push comes to shove<br />
You taste what you're made of<br />
You might bend, till you break<br />
Cause its all you can take<br />
On your knees you look up<br />
Decide you've had enough<br />
You get mad you get strong<br />
Wipe your hands shake it off<br />
Then you stand, then you stand<br />
<br />
Life's like a novel<br />
With the end ripped out<br />
The edge of a canyon<br />
With only one way down<br />
Take what you're given before its gone<br />
Start holding on, keep holding on<br />
<br />
Cause when push comes to shove<br />
You taste what you're made of<br />
You might bend, till you break<br />
Cause its all you can take<br />
On your knees you look up<br />
Decide you've had enough<br />
You get mad you get strong<br />
Wipe your hands shake it off<br />
Then you stand, then you stand<br />
<br />
Everytime you get up <br />
And get back in the race<br />
One more small piece of you<br />
Starts to fall into place<br />
<br />
Cause when push comes to shove<br />
You taste what you're made of<br />
You might bend, till you break<br />
Cause its all you can take<br />
On your knees you look up<br />
Decide you've had enough<br />
You get mad you get strong<br />
Wipe your hands shake it off<br />
Then you stand, then you stand<br />
<br />
Give it a listen...you'll be glad you did! ")<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em>"Stand" can be found on the playlist at the bottom of this page.</em></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-9034827405986706772010-03-24T09:45:00.005-04:002010-11-12T12:44:38.884-05:00The Word Freak...Freaks OutSo if you happened to stumble in here without having a clue...I've had a thing for Rick Springfield since I was eleven years old. It has grown and changed over the years...I've written about it many times both publicly and privately. His words have helped me through more shit than I can ever even begin to recount.<br />
<br />
I remember being in college, (at least 28 years ago) sitting on the front porch of my parents' house, jotting down things I wanted to accomplish in my life in a spiral notebook. At the top of that list? I wanted to sit down and talk with Rick Springfield...ask him where all of the pain was coming from...why he felt the need to bleed so profusely through his music.<br />
<br />
I recently discovered that I won't have to wait much longer for the answers to my questions. Rick's memoir, "Late, Late At Night" will be arriving at a bookstore near you...and me...in October of this year. To say that I'm elated is one mother of an understatement.<br />
<br />
Here are a few of Rick's words taken from <a href="http://www.latelateatnight.com/">http://www.latelateatnight.com/</a>:<br />
<br />
“Many of the things I have had to face in my life are universal issues; my lifelong battle with depression, fear of failure, self doubt and my journey to overcome these,” commented Mr. Springfield. “There have been ups and downs in my life, and reaching the milestone of my 60th birthday made me want to tell my story finally and honestly. I seized the opportunity to tell my story in my own words, so those who may be going through similar things in their lives, can take my experiences, grow from them and hopefully have a good laugh along the way.”<br />
<br />
If Rick has battled the same damn demons that I've been dealing with for years, then by God I want to know every detail.<br />
<br />
Well...as Mick Jagger has told me so many times in the last few months:<br />
<br />
"No, you can't always get what you want<br />
You can't always get what you want<br />
You can't always get what you want<br />
But if you try sometimes you might find<br />
You get what you need"<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/89/927FB6A3ECD08E504F949051F260D263.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>"You Can't Always Get What You Want" can be found on the playlist at the bottom of this page.</em></div>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-88551768417364029142010-03-18T19:59:00.003-04:002010-03-20T18:10:13.841-04:00A Letter To Claire's Birth Mama<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQsfhOf7NA0q9FsIj9PqDo_gn-SMFSAM-amUdWVkEPFi1WEzpRadhrybDTwj5u94LtjlyMh9xUWqII1mDolcCfydm1tMmgdEWjdUfRYfIzhRm99q6Zc5ZhCww7v17MM70-pqn/s1600-h/Gary+and+Clare+they+always+get+to+go+first!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQsfhOf7NA0q9FsIj9PqDo_gn-SMFSAM-amUdWVkEPFi1WEzpRadhrybDTwj5u94LtjlyMh9xUWqII1mDolcCfydm1tMmgdEWjdUfRYfIzhRm99q6Zc5ZhCww7v17MM70-pqn/s320/Gary+and+Clare+they+always+get+to+go+first!.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Dear Birth Mama,<br />
<br />
I have been so angry at you...for so very long. I don't know why you have had to bear the brunt of my anger. I have certainly harbored no anger nor ill feelings towards <a href="http://ourjourneycontinues.blogspot.com/2009/02/fingerprint-friday-letter-to-hopes.html">my oldest daughter's birth mother</a>. But you...well...that's another story.<br />
<br />
I think all of the negative aspects that I had to deal with concerning Claire's adoption just kind of packed themselves into a tight ball of hatred that lodged in my heart and I turned it all towards you. The endless fights with the agency...the mix-up with our LID...the wait which just continued to get longer and longer...the fact I was not allowed to travel to China to bring her home. That's her in the picture by the way. It was snapped just moments after her Daddy held her for the first time...she was ten months old. Do you see that smile? He named her Claire. Claire means clear, bright, and shining. I chose her middle name, Yi Ming. Yi meaning strength and grace. And Ming? Well...it means clear...bright...and shining. After seeing her smile don't you think we made the right choice?<br />
<br />
I was able to learn so much about my oldest daughter's life before I entered it. We have pictures...and clothing...and a note from her birth mama. For Claire? We have nothing but the clothes she was wearing the day Daddy met her in China. They were torn...and dirty...she was dirty...her fingernails and toenails overgrown and filthy...her little body was covered with scabies...and she was coughing so violently she was throwing up. I have since heard that conditions at her SWI have improved greatly.<br />
<br />
The director of the SWI at that time was unable or unwilling to share any information about what Claire's life was like while she lived there. Again...nothing to share with her as she gets older. What little we did learn was from the few legal papers we received. It says you left her the day she was born. How could you do that? How could you just leave her...walk away from her...when she was just a few hours old?<br />
<br />
She's ornery you know. She is bright and funny and has a temper at least three times her size...and a stubborn streak like none I've ever seen. She is a natural mama bear...she wants to take care of you when you're sad and make things better. Apparently others have seen these traits in me. She wants to help with everything. She wants to know everything...do everything. She lives each moment to the fullest. She loves her sister...and they are typical sisters. Holding hands, singing and giggling one moment, fighting, yelling and screaming the next. She loves teddy bears, Barbie's, Disney movies, playing make believe, and going out to eat. She is most definitely a girly girl...<strong><em>the </em></strong>diva.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxQlGohXqXldm5r7eyXsUQqJ2fQAK8_5PCfGl8xwadyOF9g-P7bXedqwfO0piNeTwwYBqYWealr9fh5rrMW-pSxnxc2du_1m1NGf4pIejHFl8HngrMROp84ruAQ3uGbYOaDLE/s1600-h/4th.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxQlGohXqXldm5r7eyXsUQqJ2fQAK8_5PCfGl8xwadyOF9g-P7bXedqwfO0piNeTwwYBqYWealr9fh5rrMW-pSxnxc2du_1m1NGf4pIejHFl8HngrMROp84ruAQ3uGbYOaDLE/s320/4th.JPG" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
She turned four this week. On her previous birthdays I had but one thought towards you, "Do you even remember what today is? Do you even care?" Not so this year. God has been doing a lot of work within my heart lately...or perhaps more to the point, I've been allowing God to work within my heart lately. This year things were very different. I know you had nothing to do with the agency or the LID mix-up or the director of the SWI or the conditions there or <em><strong>any</strong></em> of that. I <em><strong>KNOW</strong></em> this. I was told I'd have to wait six months for our baby...it ended up being fifteen. People are now waiting four <strong><em>years</em></strong>. Again, I know this isn't your fault...I allowed my hurt and my anger to cloud what was right...what was real.<br />
<br />
As I was looking through the pictures of Claire taken while she was in China, trying to choose one for this letter, I was struck by yet another certainty. As I sat here crying...and aching...and hurting...because I had missed a part of her life I should not have...not allowed to hold her...touch her...comfort her...make her feel better...I realized that for me, the wait was over. I was able to see pictures of her, and talk to her on the phone, and know that within two weeks time I <strong><em>would</em></strong> be able to do all of those things I had been waiting so long to do. And then I realized that when you laid her safely down, in a well populated area, and walked away from her that you would never have that. Your wait is forever. You will never hold her, or hear her laugh, or see pictures, or watch her grow. How much greater must your heartache be?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3sFG_g4DH6K1c5iiWf6UWMN7BD0qJ0UMVwoI4pVFWqNaGrO2qTHCI2GY8s5sgQ8bjJDpdv7Xr-2_2MOGJ7F94eOMjJ6MYilTOh56xjXDqcO7Q-XaZcSGnTIqteX3lC1rT_e7/s1600-h/bling.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3sFG_g4DH6K1c5iiWf6UWMN7BD0qJ0UMVwoI4pVFWqNaGrO2qTHCI2GY8s5sgQ8bjJDpdv7Xr-2_2MOGJ7F94eOMjJ6MYilTOh56xjXDqcO7Q-XaZcSGnTIqteX3lC1rT_e7/s320/bling.JPG" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
I am so sorry...so very sorry for allowing my own hurts to usurp yours. You were doing what has been done and has been an accepted practice for so very long. Please forgive me for ever thinking you did not care about our daughter.<br />
<br />
I have started telling her what very little I know about you...first and foremost...that you love her. It is your blood running through her veins...your eyes staring back at me...your hair...your skin...her beauty is yours. She is truly a combination of both of us. And I promise that I will love her, cherish her, and fight to protect her until my last breath.<br />
<br />
Thank you for the gift that is Claire,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/CC7C1C9739C91ECD1D913EC8648A82A7.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Melhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11209436415597129716noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11781126.post-17290325612342525052010-03-12T15:15:00.002-05:002010-03-12T22:23:11.903-05:00Yep...Mel Results<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg-7PpYkYu6TiRA1L6dgR00M2cRHadA_TALv1eozL_Ytsqc23XZnB-rk1QjKa1xKWshcLE0j1bWuzt_D461xI8WnyX1sMeq8j3tB1fzphLr_XG2ZHBxHk-F7z5G6NFU5GSrH7/s1600-h/foufy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg-7PpYkYu6TiRA1L6dgR00M2cRHadA_TALv1eozL_Ytsqc23XZnB-rk1QjKa1xKWshcLE0j1bWuzt_D461xI8WnyX1sMeq8j3tB1fzphLr_XG2ZHBxHk-F7z5G6NFU5GSrH7/s320/foufy.JPG" vt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yeah...that's me right before my MRI Monday. Nobody can rock a pair of scrub pants and <strong><em>two</em></strong> hospital gowns like Mel can. The awesomely amazing boa was made for me by a friend who thought it might just cheer me up. She was right. Thanks Carol...and I <em>told </em>you I was going to wear it to my MRI. Oh and folks? You are noticing its color...right?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The MRI went well. I had my two favorite girls. They always make me smile...makes things go sooo much easier! This time, while I was hanging upside down, with my boobs in a box, and my arms over my head, I decided to change my usual musical selection. I've always chosen classical in the past. This time? Country. I've been listening to so much Rascal Flatts lately...their words...their music...their harmonies are speaking to my heart. Well...the first song that came shooting through my headphones before the Giant Magnetic Donut of Doom started clanging madly was...yep...Rascal Flatts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Health & Wellness Center has upgraded their machine...I believe at least twice since I've become a frequent flyer. GOD BLESS THEM!!! What used to take 45 minutes to an hour is now done in just under 30 minutes. Once I was done there I ran a few errands. The fact that the sun was shining and that I had been told I could stay out all day helped my mood immensely. I did go home for lunch, let everyone know I was alive, and then took off again. What wild and crazy things did I do? I ended up at Lowe's...buying curtains and the hardware that goes with them...for Hope's room. Remember my year long project...purging, organizing, and finishing? I think the only thing I have left to do in Hope's room is buy a storage box for a few of her baby clothes I'm saving, and hang some pictures on her walls. Claire's room is not far behind!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sooo...results. Well, they give you the standard, "Your results will be looked at by the radiologist today and that report will be sent to your surgeon. You'll probably hear from them in about a week." I think what really happens is that the radiologist looks at the scan, carves the results onto a stone tablet in sanskrit, straps it to the back of a turtle, (an <strong><em>elderly</em></strong> turtle) and points said turtle in the direction of my surgeon's office.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really wasn't expecting to hear anything this week. Occasionally, if I'm lucky, Amy will call me on the Thursday after the MRI...but it's usually the next Monday. Well, she called me today. Nothing has changed...and I have to have another MRI in six months. So...one every other year...one every six months for two years...whatever it takes. I am relieved...but I am also incredibly angry. I am a woman who likes, no, <strong><em>needs</em></strong> to know why. God seems to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure lately in just leaving me hanging...without answers...for anything. And maybe...just maybe...that's what's bothering me the most...the fact that I may never have any answers...about anything.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been blessed to have a young woman in my life for...well...a very long time. I was her first and second grade teacher but she's the one doing the educating now. She is going through a somewhat similar situation and I was talking to her this morning right after I got my results. Here is some of what this wise beyond her years young lady had to say:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Well that is good news in a way...at least I think so. And yes, it does suck because then it's another 6 months and it starts all over again. It's a constant reminder and pain in the ass..and it's always there!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>I've realized that the answers NEVER come quick. It's such a slowwwww process and it eats you up, it really does. Mentally and physically...it's terrible!<br />
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and you're right, nothing does make sense.<br />
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Like someone amazing tells me all the time..."there is something amazing waiting at the end of this"...and I definitely believe that and you should too. It's definitely hard to believe it sometimes because of everything we have gone through but I'm praying that it's true. And even though I'm a little upset with God right now about everything...I know he's doing it for a reason, a GOOD reason."<br />
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Don't you just hate it when someone actually pays attention to you and then throws your words right back at you? ::sigh:: Lisa...I love you...don't you ever forget it. I'm going to try my hardest to believe that there is something amazing waiting for me at the end of this. I don't know why it's so easy for me to think and feel and know that that is true for everyone I've said it to, and yet not for myself.<br />
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So there you have it friends...as promised...Mel Results.<br />
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Later y'all,<br />
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