Hair Day! Hair Day!

Wednesday is hair appointment day!  Yee haw!

The past couple of times I've gone in to see Deanna - I've had to fight the internal battle with my selves "To cut?" or "Not to cut?"  And "not to cut" has been winning.  But only because with #7 still in his big 2.5 year, $10 bet (yes... ten whole dollars) I have decided that for as long as he grows his hair, I will continue to grow mine.

Here's what I haven't shared with anyone - including The Dad, or Jack, Dan or Boone whom I nuggle up with daily...

My hair can't be short.  It just can't.  And I feel like it takes an unreal amount of time for mine to grow... which is why this is just a thought.

But #7's plan is, when the time comes to cut his hair - to donate his mane to Locks of Love.  There are "rules" to how that's done...  but, it's a cool thing to do.  So...  perhaps I should too?  The only hang up here is - that my hair isn't as long as his.  Or is it?

MOTY & #7

No.  It's not.  And his has these wonderful curls in it, while mine is full of all sorts of bends and cowlicks.  The hair gods favored on these Minn boys (with the exception of The Dad perhaps) and now Blue Eyes is also working on a new do as well.  

But for now - I'm in my own competition with my oldest, even though he doesn't know it - to keep growing mine as long as he's growing his.  This is no easy feat, please understand. Ask any woman and when she's wavering, many times we just cave and say "WTF?"  And if most women are like me - they go home, like it for the rest of the day and then the next day - after showering and unable to style it like the day before - we wish we could have our hair back.

Tomorrow, for now... is hair day!  Highlight, no cut, keep growing, hair day!  

No Seed Left Behind!

For the first time in 23 years - there was not a child in the house to dream about pumpkins, candy, costumes and the fun that was... IS pumpkin carving and Halloween.

When we got our pumpkins up at Siemers at Greenbluff - which, sadly, our favorite pumpkin growers land/home is for sale (someone please please please buy it!) I picked out 3 very large pumpkins and two smaller.  The Dad rolled his eyes and wanted to put his foot down and tell me "enough is enough" but there was no way I wasn't buying a pumpkin for every member (human) of our family.  I HAD to three very large pumpkins - because I knew that's what my boys would have picked out.  

The pumpkins sat on the porch with my bale of hay and corn stalks until it was carving day - yesterday.  There were no faces drawn on scratch paper - I knew all along what would be carved.  My boys loves, hopes, dreams are what drive me.  I want for them, their wants.  I would give anything to be able to give them the world...  

Since I can't, really... I have to stick to the things I know they love.  Even if they won't admit it!  So this week - after cooking seeds today - two of them will get some roasted pumpkin seeds (one of them just doesn't GET how nummy roasted pumpkin seeds are AND in fact, are healthy for you too... minus the garlic salt, butter, johnnys, worchestershire...).  I left it to The Dad to scrape the guts out of the pumpkins and then, as my OCD allows me to do so expertly - I pulled each and every seed out of the guts from the three pumpkins.  There were no seeds left behind.  

I remember last years carving.  Wack, The Dad and I (mostly Wack and I).  Wack is my Christmas lovin' boy.  I sent him a text on Sunday asking if he remembered carving pumpkins last year and he responded "What about it?"  I asked if he remembered WHAT we did WHILE we carved.  His response "Did we watch "The Grinch"?"

Why yes.  Yes we did.  I was ready and prepared to do the same this year but the Broncos were on and... well... they were winning.  It was an internal struggle.  But the Mile High Salute won out. #GoBroncos  (Yes, my Twitter hashtags don't work here, but I'm a fan of the hashtags!)

Pumpkins are carved.  Seeds are cooked.  Candy is safely away from Jacks sniffing and rooting nose...  

And then... just now... I remembered that since our remodel... we haven't had a doorbell.  Huh.  Soooo... that's great.  I have like 14 bags of halloween candy.  

Oh.  I.  Know....  I'll just have The Dad hang out on the front porch on Wednesday  night.  Yeeeaaahhhh.  That's the ticket.  After all, we don't want any candy bars left behind either!

Oh What A Night!

Late October in 2012... What a very special time for me...

My pops bought me (us) tickets to see "Jersey Boys" for my birthday.  The Dad then planned, on top of pops gift, to make that night "birthday night" and take me to Clingerdaggers for my favorite dinner.

We were seated at Table 20, which was actually across from the tables closest to the windows - which was preferable for me since it's cold outside now.  We ordered up the crab dip, a glass of wine... his Washington Red Apple martini and so it begins.

Across from our table was a table of 10.  Nine men.  One woman.  Each of the men were wearing a different color and style of "Comcast" shirts.  Everyone was being polite and they were idly chit chatting.  As their meal was served and everyone settled in - they were now full on in conversations and enjoying themselves.  At one point, the one lady, raised her glass and thanked them all.  At this point - and a glass of wine in myself, I told The Dad - "I'm going to go work there."

Our dinner was served, we inhaled it - but I ordered a big enough portion to have left overs the next day.  I'm no dummy!  As we were finishing up our meal, a few of the guys at the table across from us had left and two were getting up and readying themselves to leave.  At this point they say:

CCG's:  "Sorry we were so loud at our table."

WOTY:  "Oh no.  You guys were fine.  I thought perhaps you were talking over me."

CCG's:  "Oh.  No.  We have a couple of loud talkers"

WOTY:  "Oh yea?  Which ones?"

CCG's:  "Well the guy that was sitting right there (pointing at empty spot)..."

WOTY:  "Oh.  The guy that had to go pick up his kids?"

CCG's:  "Yeh... <laughing> and then the guy that was there in the red shirt..."

WOTY:  "Ahhh ya.  And the guy that ordered his dessert to go."

CCG's: <to each other>  "Man!  She's got it down"  <to me>  "You're good!"

They leave and I look to The Dad and say... "Yep, I'm going to go work there."

The Dad says... <sighing>  "Just what I need.  My wife hanging out with all of those guys."

So we leave and head to the Performing Arts Center - AKA OPERA HOUSE.  We take our seats in the very very front row and we watch this great show.  Great.  Really really great.  Loved it.  Made me want to see it again aaaaannnnnnnnndddd, also ruined any future shows for me unless...

I am sitting in THE FRONT ROW.  So, The Dad needs to hurry up and get employed so we can purchase tickets to "Rock of Ages" and "West Side Story".  

After the show - the cast make an announcement.  Well... "Bobby" and "Frankie" do.  They are raising money to help fight aids diseases, alzheimers, etc and for a small donation you can get this, that, or the other thing - signed by the cast.  We could have walked right out the door by our auditorium entrance, but I told The Dad I'd like to go see which cast members were out in the lobby for this money raising post show "event".  So up we walked and as we looked over the edge - we could see several and I made note of one guy over by the furthest exit from the stairs.  No biggy... just remember it.  I told The Dad, that I was going to make a donation for one of the posters to have our friends frame with the tickets to go in our great theater room downstairs.  As we hit the bottom of the steps, that guy clear over by the door... made his way to us and said <to Jeff> "You were the guy sitting in the front row, right?"  I cocked my head and looked to The Dad... <oh my> and then they and I sat and chatted for several minutes about this show, other shows he's come through Spokane on and about what a great time it looked like The Dad was having in the front row.

So - to back this up a little - after the show and as we were ascending the steps to descend the other steps - I told The Dad.  "Forget Comcast.  I'm going to be an usher here.  So I can see all of the shows.  No... wait.  Forget that.  I'm just going to move to New York and audition for shows.  I'll do anything."  To which The Dad responds with a chortle and a sigh with a...  "My wife..."

As we walked out I said to The Dad... "I should so be in theater."  To which he nervously responded... "Apparently, so should I."

So... the nice thing is - we both got hit on while we were out on a date.  The not so  nice thing is...  we were both hit on... by MEN.  

But wait!  It gets better!  As we were pulling out of our parking spot and The Dad was at the parking lot exit on Spokane Falls Blvd, we were directly across the street from where some of the troupe was heading out.  And there was "Bobby" (John Rochette).  Adorable, cute, witty, "Bobby".  The Dad recognizes him and is amazed that they are standing there, just right there... practically on the street.  (It's not like they are GEORGE CLOONEY OR BRAD PITT darlin').  So he's so excited as he sees Bobby/John start to walk towards the light that he starts to pull out AND roll down my window!  He almost had me taken out Gary Bertier style ("Remember the Titans") and I had a few choice words for him, rolled up my window and reminded him that Bobby's name wasn't "Bobby".  So he rolled up my window.  Thank GOD!

He finally pulls on to the street - safely.  The light changes and as Bobby/John starts to cross the street, The Dad again rolls down my window and  yells "Great job tonight Bobby!"

Oh.

My.

God.

Bobby/John looks up and in his New York accent says "Hey tanks man!"

And I say "His name isn't BOBBY!"

And The Dad says "But he got right into character when I said that."

Like that makes it any less embarrassing?  Not so much.  But it made his night... and I've got to give him that because he and my dad - made mine with these gifts!

Love you guys.  Tanks again!

Oooohhhhh Siriiiiiiiiii.....

Guess what?

In just a few weeks you and I will get to be BFF's!  I went ahead, only 14 days after my upgrade date - and finally, finally took the time to make the call to our friends at Verizon. I got Joshua whom was most helpful and full of personality.  I'm sure you know him... right, Siri?

Joshua told me that you are going to be moving to the Lloyd house in a few weeks and in our discussions I went ahead and paid your airfare to get you here as soon as possible!

I can't wait to tell you about how "Jersey Boys" is tomorrow night... about the party The Dad and I are going to on Friday and share with you all the great things going on with #7, Blue Eyes and Wack.  I'll share my pictures with you and well, we could even go and take some together you and me.  

You'll be arriving in the comfort of the iPhone5 - and I've insured your arrival and monthly stay.  

We are going to have SO. MUCH. FUN.

See you soon!

P.S. - the new show "Nashville" is freakin awesome.  We'll be able to sit and watch it together all too soon.  See ya soon y'all!

King Fiji - WSU Style

Out for dinner last night with family at The Elk when The Dad, at the opposite end of the table, waves his phone in my direction - signaling me to look at mine.  And... so I did.

Ry-Man was encouraged to apply for the IFC last year when there weren't enough applicants for a few positions.  He didn't end up getting it last year - but wasn't overly surprised or disappointed.  He knew that these positions often went to upperclassmen...  

It's quite a process and he hadn't told us he had applied this year.  So this text was as awesome for us to receive, as it was for him to have been selected.

My middle boy took a long time to hit his growth spurt... He came home from his first year of college about 4 inches taller.  He went into the Phi Gamma Delta house on a scholarship that would cover room and board all four years IF he made a 3.5 GPA or above each semester AND if he had a 3.5 or better... they would cut him a $1000 check each semester - which would cover most of his membership fees and dues and leave him about $400 in his wallet.  And he's done it each semester he's been there. When he went into the house, he was told that most juniors move out - they are tired of the house, the noise, the ongoing activity.  Ryan is a junior and this year - for the first time in many many years - there are 35 juniors living in the house.  The idea with these 4 scholarships that were offered was to help improve the Fiji community at WSU.  He's on the house cabinet and he has worked hard each year and has accomplished so much. The Edward R. Murrow School of Communications houses his class load this year, the KUGR radio station is home to him on Thursday nights from 8-10pm, the Martin Stadium pressbox is his home on Cougar Football Saturdays, the Mens golf club can thank him for his nice write ups on wsucougars.com.  My middle boy, with blue eyes, a different birthday than his brothers... wears his heart on his sleeve (the only thing he got from his ma) is living his dream.  He's made it all come true - on his own terms.  

And so:

Happy happy heart.  

I Love...

I love fall.  I love the colors, the smells and that it's football season.  Sure... it's my first fall without any boys in the house and I don't love that part of this fall.  

But this fall has afforded us a lot of time with family... and more to come!

We spent Labor Day weekend with my brother and sister-in-law and our nieces in The Couve.  When the tailgates started - our Eagles nieces AK & BK and soon to be nephew-in-law have joined in on the fun and are so so so so SOOOO helpful in helping me get everything set up, they bring no-bakes, or cowboy caviar, salmon and well... just something to help make the party the successes they usually are.  They've been super troupers after the games when cousin #7 heads out to the spot with some of the other players.  

After #7's injury, their dedication to their school, the team and their cousin (and aunt and uncle) was unwavering.  They stayed the course and while #7 isn't on the field at this time - that doesn't change this one fact for them:  He's family.  And whether your family member is the star of the show or the understudy - they are there to support.  These girls bring this home time and again and remind me of who I want to be, what I hope my kids can or will be.  They don't only send the message - they live the message.  

It doesn't matter if you're winning, losing, playing, not playing, hurting, angry, happy or sad.  My nieces have been there.  For him.  For us.  For their family.

I have been asked before when I've told people about the boys games "Well, is (#7, Blue Eyes, Wack) playing/starting?"  Because if he isn't... it's not worth it to come.  No... that's not been the spoken  word.. it's been the unspoken word.  In fact, with #7 not playing, some people aren't even following it anymore.  So unknowing are they.  Shame on them.  But shame on me for wasting my energy wondering HOW not supporting someone through the rough patches is O.K. but whom will, upon his or their return or successes... choose to brag about someone they don't see or talk to otherwise.

So the energy shift is for the F words.  Family.  Football.  Football players we feed after the final buzzer.  Friends.  Fun. Freedom.  Fellowship.  Fireball!!  

Scott, Jake, MOTY, The Dad, Cyndi, TK, AK, BK, EK  Oct 21, 2012

AK (Soon to be A.S.) October 14, 2012

Not this fall... damnit...

Tailgate Oct 20, 2012

Alli's birthday - taco bash - 10/14/12

The iPod Shuffle

Today - I finally found my groove at work.  It took nearly 11 months, thoughts of quitting more than once, and today a move from my cubby by the server room - to a room with a view.

I've always listened to music where I work and for the past several months I could hear everything in the hall, the technological noises from the closet to my left and my roommates side of the partition.  I'm not going to lie - learning live TV and several different programs made me question my self proclaimed "I'm a quick learner, multi-tasker"  blah blah blah...  I had my own office space for the last 7 years and still felt much like that, even with someone on the other side of the cubicle wall.  To an extent.

But here's the skinny.  And this is truth.  Real life.

The Dad is still unemployed and in my mind, will be until the start of the new year.  Many companies are at the end of their budget, planning holiday office parties and final vacations.  So there's that.  But I've come home for the past 4-5 months, after figuring out some of the mumbo jumbo of what IS at my work - and been too tired to do anything other than make dinner and change to lay on the couch.  I thought it was just still... the nature of this job.  But on Tuesday - like Mr. Houchens used to yell in 5th grade - "Enough is enough!"

I was tired of it all... that is a gray statement, but it works.  But I was done.  The Dad was done with me coming home like this.  So on Wednesday morning I handed in my letter of resignation.  I spoke with my bosses boss, then my boss and a load was lifted.  I knew it was against my better judgement, given our circumstances - but I need to be positive and have energy at this time in our lives.  My guy needs me up, and encouraging and with the energy we've both had for all of these years.  He had my back, begged me to do it and our mindset is "Where there's a will, there's a way."

It was a whirlwind morning and I was visited again by my boss, her boss, my boss and her boss again and a plan was formed.  I have a new residence at work... I went from a bit of a closet to this:

I stayed late on Wednesday to move my tapes, files, and things I wouldn't need on Thursday or Friday until my computer could be moved.  Turns out that happened this morning and once I got set up I put my head down, ipod on and went to task.  At one point in the day I switched my ipod from "Fall 2012" playlist to Songs/All/Shuffle.

Annnnnd then this came on:  N'Syncs' "Never Knew the Meaning of Christmas" and a plethora of other holiday tunes.  There was a part of me that thought - "Enough is enough. Get back to your Fall playlist."  But at some point, it was just background music and I didn't even realize whether a non holiday or holiday song was playing.  Which meant I was working.  And hard.  And I felt, for maybe the third time in 11 months - that I was making progress.  When I came home tonight - I was energized.  I was talking.  I wasn't ready to crawl into bed.  Case in point... it's 9:30pm and I'm writing this.  

So the ipod shuffle stayed.  The office shuffle worked.  And it's just about time to shuffle over to the couch to watch "Grey's Anatomy" before shuffling off to bed.  

Everything happens for a reason.  Today was a good day.  Thank you for the good day. 

No More Drama! Except For... Well...

I arrived home today at lunch to find an envelope with my dad's writing on it...  My birthday card had arrived - 13 days after my birthday.  BUT... I am not complaining, as today I sat down with my little book with birthdays and wrote out and address cards to those I've missed since the end of July.  If you've been here you know, if you haven't... well - July 23rd was the day The Dad (not my dad, but my boys dad) was informed the business was being sold and his job was - well... uh... done fer.  No more.  So you can imagine many things went in the tank with my tailspin.  <sigh>  

We seem to be regaining some ground after paying the house fee at UW Fiji and the remainder of tuition that wasn't covered with financial aid.  We've fixed cards, gotten tires on cars, licensed cars... paid down bills and made holy boards and giant jenga's.  Well "WE" haven't.  Not like it takes a rocket scientist to figure that out.

He did make dinner today.  One where he actually had to follow directions AND come up with a side dish.  I'm going to give him points for having french bread as a side dish.  He HAD to go to the store for it, which entailed getting dressed and putting on underwear... So it's going to count.

But back to the card.  My birthday card from my pa.  I was in a pretty foul mood on my way home for lunch.  I miss my Sac world.  I miss Greg, Linda, Peter, Rita, Adam... Pat.  I miss my peeps and I am NOT meant to work in an office with a bunch of drama.  I can so DO the middle school scheme of drama that goes on.  But I just don't find much entertainment, enjoyment or satisfaction from women pissing and moaning about this and that, hating someone one night and not 8 hours later, and oh so much more...

So bad mood.  Poor Jeff.  Open card and... it says "Jeff has your gift."

Well.  Shit.  "Jeff" aka, The Dad was out putting chairs and the deck table in the storage room because bad mood me walked in and pissily let him know the BBQ cover had just blown off the BBQ and clear to the other side of the deck.  I didn't walk towards the deck to save it... I did nothing.  So The Dad did.  

But now I didn't know what my gift was.

Luck be a lady!  He couldn't contain himself.  The Dad explained that MY dad had emailed him last week saying he could send a check or money as a gift, but he knows, what with The Dad looking for work, that the $$ would probably get spent on something "not fun".  So he asked J if he had any ideas.  And J told him that I'd recently seen an ad for and said I'd like to see "Jersey Boys" which is in Spokane, or will be in a few days!  

Yes... drama.  But this kind of drama is just what the doctor ordered!

Thanks pops, for drowning out the Tuesday doldrums with an unexpected, best birthday present from you ever.   Well... the walkman back in 1982 was pretty frickin rad too.  

Never Seen Before...

My parents divorced when I was about 2 - I think.  I don't even really know, to be honest.  I never remember being in the house with them when I was a baby.  I never really even remember them communicating after my dad moved to Seattle, then California, then Arizona.

In fact my only memory I have of my mom trying to speak with my dad, was when I was maybe 8 or 9 and my dads' house was in Sylmar, California... Across the street from Mikki and Chico?  Is that right?  My older sister and I, when visiting, would call our mom or maybe mom called us every once in a while to check in.  Mom had been pretty persistent about wanting to talk to dad - and I remember dad not being able to talk to mom.  Within a few weeks of her asking to talk to him - a letter arrived in the mail that my step-mom read over the phone to dad while he was at work about how our pet doberman, back home (here in The Can) had been hit by a UPS truck and killed.  She had wanted to tell dad about it, so he could break it to us - and instead, we overheard it being read over the phone.  It was traumatic... though I think I reacted more to my older sisters reaction.  

But that's not what this post is about.  Damn... I went off on a downer tangent.  A "not the best memory" from Sylmar story.  There are actually quite a few great memories from the days of Tarzana and Sylmar, California...  But I digress... this post isn't meant to be about always having to check this one area of the garage for the black widows that laid their eggs there, or tap lessons, the ice cream truck, the yearly visit to Universal Studios or Disneyland and ohhhh Magic Mountain where we could mix different colors of sand in a jar... for money.  Way cool.

Okay - so as I've grown up - I've known there to be roughly TWO photos of me as a baby.  Being the second child, 5 years AFTER the first child... the novelty of a baby book, new baby clothes, and... picture taking - had long since worn off.  I was born October 3rd, though my moms original due date with me was September 30.  I was likely a New Years "Oops" baby... but that's NOT why there are only 2 baby pictures of me.  The next known picture of me is when Dad and Cheryl had baby Molly and they had a photographer that my older sister thought was uber creepy and wouldn't smile for, to the apartment they lived in, prior to the Sylmar house.  Am I spelling Sylmar right?  A responsible writer/journalist would quickly Google it, but I'm on a rant and if I go look, I'll forget where I'm going with this.  I was pretty dang cute in that photo, which I don't have a copy of - but I remember it.  One remembers the photos of themselves when there are only three in existence.

UNTIL NOW.  I received an email last week asking if I was interested in two baby pictures of me.  This email came from my old babysitter and neighbor, Theresa.  One was me with my babysitters big doll and the other was with my mom, dad, sister and Grandma Agnes.  I'm betting even my mom, dad and sister don't even know this photo exists.  I take that back - my pops will likely remember the day this picture was taken and who took it.  My mom will look at herself and remember how pretty she was and daydream about her long hair and skinny legs.  My sister will probably note that her hair in this photo, eerily resembles her most recent hairstyle...  and realize she had style even at the age of 5, almost 6.

The Dad looked at the family photo and said "I see Zach in that one."  Well... DUH... Zach looks like me.  Acts like me.  Only, Zach, the third child, has WAY more baby photos than me.  I looked at it and realized that my sister got my moms smile and that my dad looks eerily like Nicholas Cage in this pic.

Anyhow - I'm posting them for all of the world to see... or at least the 14 people that read this... to prove two things - that there is AT LEAST - ONE photo of my with  my "original" family on this earth and safely in my possession and... that I was all legs even when I was only one year old.  Also, to remind myself that the pajamas in the photo below are frickin adorable and The Dad needs to find some for me for Christmas.  Lets go!

No Kids & Still Busy?!?! What?

I have been terrible about getting my posts written for about two weeks and part of me cares... part of me is just too exhausted to care.  Work is crazy hectic due to political ads and the start of a new quarter, some turnover going on, new stuff to figure out because each quarter is something new - at least for the first year.  Thankfully, the first year is almost up.

 

Somewhere I thought that life would be less hectic with all of the boys gone.  But it's not.  We go to the EWU Coaches show on Monday nights... I try not to ever cook anymore, and I have to work at that.  I've been running all sorts of errands after and during work for the boys who need or forgot stuff at home...  There is always something it seems.

 

Now... I will say - going home at lunch before The Dad lost his CIO position in the Genitalia/FHC sale... oops, Gentiva... I would write it then.  I would get home, let the dogs out, get them a treat, start a load of laundry, pick up this or that, fold a load, let the dogs in and make a piece of toast or yogurt and sit down to let my fingers type out whatever thoughts are rambling through my mind.  Somehow - if I am on the computer, even during my lunch to do this... it doesn't feel like a chore.  But when I get home at the end of the day... the last thing I want to do is get back on my computer.

 

Not even to do something like... SHOP.  So this whole unemployment gig for The Dad has to stop.  I need my lunch hour back.  I need to get back to my organized ways. 

 

All that said... if you tailgate and you want one of these...  My husband can make you one with your teams colors!  He and the garage have gotten pretty content with each other the past several weeks!

 

It's "holy board" and you try to throw washers through the holes... not bean bags.  Little tougher...  and only for REAL tailgating, competitve, enthusiasts! 

 

 



Just Ain't Right....

It was a different tailgate for us this weekend - what with #7 able to come up and visit, snack for a few minutes before heading up to the press box for the game.  While he handled the injury last week, in a way I would never have expected - I could see that this week was going to hurt.  It's not fun as a parent at any point in our lives thus far, to see the disappointment in our children's expressions.  

The crowd was smaller this week - not a big rivalry, late game, colder out.  You know how you feel like something is "off" but you can't put your finger on it?  Well that was this particular game night and I wrote it off that I had, and Blue Eyes had, forgotten his new WSU holy board in the back of my jeep when we went to pick up his jeep from getting it's much needed new tires that afternoon.

The team from 1997 was being honored that night and one of the guys from that team went on to play in the NFL -maybe more, but one we knew anyhow.  The Dad and I had gone to EWU when this former players' big brother played there... these two are even listed in #7's bio on his player page.  I had sent Pat (big brother) a text to let him know to stop by the tailgate at some point, as they were going to be at the game for Jeff (Ogdens) induction.  And so at halftime, Pat and his wife, Samantha found us.  We talked tailgates, kids, weather, what "tailgating" was when we were at EWU (non-existent, mostly) and certainly not many families, groups like us who feed 8 or so players after the games.  

At some point I asked Pat how a friend of ours from EWU was doing - Leo.  He said  he was doing pretty well...

K - Are they still in southern Idaho?
P - Uh... "they" aren't.
K - (misunderstanding, unknowing) What?!?!?  
P - Uhhh, ya, "they" aren't.
K - ????  
P - She died.  Last year.  About this time.
K - WHAT??!!?  

A year ago - I was on the Bookface and while Leo wasn't (isn't?) on the Bookface, his wife Tyra was.  And while I had only met Tyra once or twice 23 years ago at EWU, she had, at some point in time accepted me as a "friend" on the Bookface.  She never changed from 23 years ago - at least, it did not look as though she had appearance wise.  She was still a glowing, smiling, beautiful girl/woman.  

A year ago Leo had a wife... the mother of his two kids Jordan and Auggie.  About a year ago this week she went to the doctor complaining of a flu that just didn't seem to go away.  But it wasn't the flu.  It was melanoma and the tumors had taken over the inside of her.  She passed away on November 4.  Pat said she was gone in 3 weeks.

I was in shock.  I am in shock.  She was two years older than me - and didn't have enough time to live.  Or to die.  

Pat and Samantha said Leo is doing amazingly well...  He has his close group of friends, church and two children from the love of his life - that keep him going.  They were "the perfect couple".  

I'm glad to hear he is doing well - but I am just so saddened to hear this news.  It brings about those questions that help us to remember, to think, to plan.  To put things into perspective.  

Prior to hearing this but after #7's injury - I remember that #7's backup on the team - that  young mans' dad has cancer.  Is battling cancer.  Cancer is cancer.   While some people "beat" it, in my opinion, for the people I've known that have been afflicted with it - it comes back.  It sucks.  I wondered if maybe this injury happened so that the other boys dad could see his son play.  Because - with cancer there is really no mercy.  It's not usually a matter of "if", but rather "when".  

And in some cases... "when" strikes people unexpectedly.

Remember the bracelets we bought for my North Side husband and his wretched wife, my sista-wife???  I still value it's message:

A Non BookFace Birthday

I got to thinking about my first birthday NOT on the Bookface...  and it was different.

 

I remember getting over 100 "Happy Birthdays" on the Bookface the last few years and it makes you feel good.  Right?

 

But when you're not on the Bookface, you don't get those, right?  And it got me to thinking at the end of the day.  Or maybe it was the start of THIS day...

 

I heard from the most important people in my life on my birthday.  The Dad, #7, Blue Eyes and Wack.  #7 even drove in, arm in sling, to bring me a card.  Granted he was also seeking a plethora of pillows so that he could sleep propped up... but that doesn't actually take anything away from it.  Wack actually got a card in the mail, from the house at 4503 17th Ave NE in time for it to get here on my actual birthday.  Blue Eyes was the only one to actually CALL but then we got to chat AND he told me he is coming in on Saturday (for the new tire appointment he slept through last weekend) - but any time I can have any of them - is a great day!

 

Emails from all of my dads - okay, there's only 2 of them... I think.  Text from my favorite sister TK and brother EK, a visit at work from one of my best pals Greg - with good tidings from a few of my other pals at my old job.  Both of my moms sent something my way - one a card, the other a cheery text! 

 

But then - there were miscellaneous texts and calls as the day and night went on... THOSE are the people that, when you get those texts, calls - you know those are your real friends.  The ones who don't need a notification box in a web application to tell you that it's someone in your list of 427 friends, birthday.  I realized that while it's nice to get 427 "Happy Birthday" greetings... it's much  more gratifying, rewarding to get them from people who just remember.  On their own. 

 

I did not get 427 calls or texts or messages on a webpage.  No matter - because the best people in my life, the ones I love the most, made me feel better than any 427 people that I don't talk to most of the days of my life... ever could.

 

43 and one day never felt so good!

 



Another October 3, On The Books

Today I'm 43.  Which isn't really any different than being 42.  In the grand scheme of things anyhow.

 

Started out the day with a workout - more of a warm up and then some work on my arms.  Home, cleaned up and then stoppef for my latte and away we go.

 

But then Beck had to bring in the lemon cake or cinnamon roles from Starbucks.  I chose lemon and while I don't usually eat much before lunch, I managed to gobble down all 43 calories of the nummy yellow cake. 

 

With no lunch plans and having done a project this morning that would set me back on "normal" work, I opted for a bag of sour cream and cheddar ruffles for "lunch".  After those 43 calories, I am wishing I had another half piece of the Starbucks lemon cake with the yummy tangy glaze frosting. 

 

I think I've picked up an additional 43 calories just thinking about it.

 

With an empty house tonight and the fact that I haven't been to the store in what feels like ages - with the boys all gone - my options for birthday dinner are few, and fortunately, there are no options for dessert. 

 

A debate on TV tonight likely means shows I normally would watch won't be on, so it looks like a quiet 43rd birthday at the Lloyd house. 

 

 

Empty nest sucks.  Birthdays aren't much better.

 

Oh but wait...  I just got this.

A Tale of the Tailgates

#7's first year of playing defense - we became part of a tailgating trio of families that put our three tents together, managed different aspects of before, during and after menu items to put out... drinks, cups, cutlery, BBQ, cauldron, chairs, fire pits and on and on.  The next year - those two families had graduated their football players and it was just us. Many of #7's teammates families travel over on game day, arriving with just a bit of time prior to the game to chit chat and head in.  

So it's a lot of work.  But we love doing it.  Annnnnd... in the past two years, we have gotten it down to a pretty good science.  

Last year - there were two home games where some people we don't know tried to crash our party.  The first time - a teammates dad came and while our backs were all turned, he just started eating the food behind us on our table.  I remember about four of us turned around and saw him snacking and then he looked at us, told us it was great and headed back to his area.  So.  Rude.

The last home game of the season, out in the cold after the game - while we started to prep food for the guys that come up to eat afterwards - these two mid 40's men came and stood by our group, by our fire pit.  I'm one of the few that drink alcoholic beverages after the game so I remember watching them and them realizing that I knew they didn't belong (queue Big Bird singing:  One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just isn't the same, can you guess which one is not like the others...).  As I kept my eyes on them and was prepping food for the football players - they finally keyed in that was not too keen on their presence.  One of the guys said to the other "Let's go this way." and as they started walking off, the other guy says "No way man, they're cooking steaks."  They left and about 12 minutes later came sleeking by and when they realized I was going to watch them like a hawk as they neared, they picked it up a bit and just walked through our spot.  Do not pass go, do not even think about collecting $200!

On Friday, while I was prepping the pork roasts I told The Dad "So help me god, if anyone we don't know tries to eat my food or crash our tailgate without being invited, THIS YEAR I am GOING to speak my mind."

Well eff.

Sure enough there was an incident.  We stepped it up another notch this year with The Dad renting a generator for the music, speakers, blah blah blah.  He also made a giant jenga game set (see below) - we had four coolers:  1 for food, 1 for beer, 1 for hard alcohol (Waynes), 1 for pop, water, gatorade.  Two tables - one for the main dish, one for the appetizers and desserts.  And a "pathway" between the two tables to get to the beer cooler.  

So there's this guy.  He's a friend of a friend of The Dads.  He's met him a few times.  I've met him once.  I remember them swinging by during this tailgate but we had close to 30 people, maybe more at the height of the tailgate prior to the game.  Food was flowing, Jeffs high school buddies, my nieces, nephew-in-law, Blue Eyes, our friends... all really enjoying a good time.  I realized we were about a half hour out from game time and reminded (or tried) The Dad to lock up the coolers with the alcohol.  Don't care about the food or water coolers, but people WILL look in coolers in the trailer if it's not locked.  I went over to Wayne and Rob and told them I was going in soon (always make sure I'm in my seat prior to the team running out) and could they make sure The Dad or they get the coolers in the Tahoe and lock it, prior to coming in.  

I went to task trying to put some stuff away and pick up garbage - organize a bit and this guy friend of a friend is totally waiting for me to clear out from the path to the beer cooler.  He couldn't have been more obvious.  And then I realized it.  He had been there for a long while and likely had been helping himself to our beer, our guests beer, and I'm very certain all of the great food we and our guests brought.  So I stalled.  I started condensing bags of chips and desserts already in the Tahoe to make space for the two coolers... The Dad walked around to see what I was doing while the friend of the friend and HIS friend circled like vultures.  I asked The Dad if he had invited this fellow to join us, to eat, drink and be merry and The Dad didn't think so, didn't think it was a big deal... but it was.  It was at this point while The Dad and I are discussing this that I see the friend of the friend pick up my chardonnay on the table and pour IT into his red solo cup.  He took a swig, made a face and his friend, catching on before him says "Lets go."  The taller, now chardonnay drinking mooch shakes his head and proceeds to turn my way as I pretend to gather more things, move, adjust and says to me, like he knows me "Hey Kathy, can I do anything to help?"  I turned to look at him and told him, "Nope.  I'm all good.  Just gonna lock up the coolers now."  He says "You sure there's nothing I can do?"  And apparently the snakes, now growing out of my head, my eyes turning wicked witch green and perhaps the smoke coming from my nose - made the friend of the friends little friend say "Hey, lets go."

So I was ready and prepared to say something to people I just plain don't know.  But this was awkward.  

So #7 was injured in the game - in the first series.  His first injury in sports since his sophomore year in high school.  And it's a real pisser.  And my heart hurts for him.  It's senior season for the love of god.  But he was strong, brave through the pain and coached his teammates up, cheered them on and handled this injury in a way I would NEVER have imagined of him.  He is just that. competitive.   So close to half time, The Dad went down to catch up with the trainer while I used the restroom.  I sent Rob out to the tailgate to get it going again and he said that when he got out there, there were a few guys around the coolers and when he got there they said "Hey... you locked up the booze?"  

By the time I got there - they were gone, our crew was in place and we enjoyed our friends company until it was time to go back in.  

Thankfully we won this big rivalry game - which helped #7's mood somewhat.  Please do me a favor and say some healing prayers for him...