She's Home!

Well, even though Orlando really tried to make me late to pick up Callie at MCO last night, I made it to the terminal before she left the gate area. I decided to video our reunion and am posting it for your viewing pleasure.

I hugged her and embarrassed her appropriately for a mom-daughter reunion. Lol.

Before leaving the airport, she was "dying" for Chik-fil-A, which she hadn't had in five months. So I bought her some, and she couldn't wait til we got home to give me my Christmas present. It's a little bird that carries your troubles away... :)

I'm pretty sure it wasn't the necklace that restored my joyful spirit last night, but a certain, beautiful 15 year old girl. 

Anyway, we talked and shared music playlists on the way home. Of course, she knew all of my songs, but she had a few on her playlist I haven't heard before that I really liked. One was this version of "Fools Rush In," covered by Haley Reinhart.

We talked about her friends. She's in the advanced classes, so she said she's mostly friends with juniors and seniors. Her cousins, Makai and Kiele, are her best friends. Makai is a year older and Kiele is a year younger. Makai worships the ground Callie walks on and invites her to hang out with him and his friends all the time. They're very tight. 

Here's a video Callie made with Kiele:

Callie also is a friend and "helper" to all the foreign exchange students. She especially likes Mathias, the student from Norway, who also happens to be a typically gorgeous Scandinavian, tall, blonde and blue-eyed. Callie's just like her momma in that respect! She said she has one super rich friend, Ahmen, whose dad is the Creative Director/Something or Other of Calvin Klein/Speedo. So he gives his friends free Calvin Klein/Speedo stuff all the time. She said Santa Barbara High is a HUGE melting pot of the very rich and very poor, with only a few in between. She said for the most part, everyone is accepting of one another. Which is good. She also mentioned that the boys in Santa Barbara are more like girls than boys--they're emotional and cry a lot. I didn't know what to say about that. 

We talked about books, and The Walking Dead, and movies, and just about everything. It turns out I didn't have to worry about her thinking us Florida bumpkins are hillbillies--she was thrilled to be home. 

When we pulled into the driveway, Aidan and Joe were outside waiting. Aidan was especially excited. I'm glad my kids are so tight with each other--no fights, ever. I've been blessed in that way and I'm extremely thankful. There were lots of hugs and even a few tears quickly swiped away.

When we walked inside the house, Monet went absolutely nuts with happiness. I should've videoed that--Callie squealing with delight as she knelt down and Monet leaping into her arms, trying desperately to lick her face and simultaneously roll onto her back for "tummies."

Zuri the Tolerable was tolerant of Callie's arrival, casually strolling around the corner with her tail and nose in the air like she was saying, "Oh, the squealy human is home. That is mildly pleasant. Yawn." Here's a picture of Zuri the Tolerable Cat (black and white on right) with the late, great, Jim Morrison (RIP):

We exchanged a few gifts, and I loved what Aidan got Callie--a sweater that matched one she also got for herself so they could have twin sweaters. They're blue and have one word in black written across the front -- NOPE. I thought that was hilarious, and now I want one, too. Lol.

I almost ruined the surprise, though...well, I actually did ruin it. It went like this:

We were all sitting around the tree, and Callie had just opened a long sleeve tee shirt from Aidan that had a cute penguin on it...Aidan had told me about the NOPE one beforehand, so I blurted out, "Lemme see...is that the one with NOPE on it?" 

Aidan spun around, "Momma!"

Me: Oops...

Aidan: Really?

Thankfully, they all started laughing. 

Aidan: (handing Callie a wrapped present) Well, I guess since it's NOT A SURPRISE anymore, open this one, the one I WAS SAVING FOR LAST. 

More laughing, thankfully, as I remember the Hello Kitty ripping the stump out of the ground.

I should've videoed that too, because it was pretty funny. 

Today, I have to work. Callie is dying to see her friends, so I'm going to drop her off at her friend's house on the way to work.

We're going to see Star Wars sometime this weekend. And we're going to try to arrange to have my best friend since fifth grade bring over Hannah and Luke, who are Callie and Joe's oldest (and probably best) friends. 

I saw this on Facebook yesterday, and thought it was especially fitting for my mood... :)

Happiness, like art, can be created, and that's a good thing to remember when you're feeling sorry for yourself or a little down. Create some happiness today! :)

Merry CHRISTmas!!

Today, we celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. I'm not much into the "Santa" thing, as Santa is really just a pagan propaganda thing that promotes some questionable morals. But I don't think Santa is evil, either. My kids stopped believing in Santa by the time they were five, and they know where their presents come from. This year, mostly from the Meems. My mom went WAY overboard this year, and like I said, I couldn't stop her. Maybe she won the lottery without me knowing.

Yes, I know there aren't any ornaments on the tree... When Aidan moved back home, a ton of her stuff went into the garage, and she blocked in all my stuff. So, rather than break my neck climbing over a bunch of miscellaneous flimsy boxes, I decided the tree looked perfect with just the lights. My mom ordered this tree from Santa's Best, and it has a remote control that has 52 different ways to set the lights. She bought it because Ellen had one on her show. My mom LOVES Ellen...

So, this morning, Joe and Aidan said they'd be up at 7:00 am to open the Christmas mound, but they're still sleeping. I got the 21 pound turkey (Aidan bought it) for 4 into the oven, so it'll be done before Aidan has to go to work.

I say four for dinner, because Aidan's new boyfriend, Cody, is coming to celebrate with us. Cody's name is interesting, and it turns out his parents named him after none other than William "Buffalo Bill" Cody. I did an entire post about Buffalo Bill way back, so I'd learned a lot about him. But Aidan is another story...this is how it played out:

Aidan: Cody was named after some cowboy dude from a long time ago.
Me: Oh, Buffalo Bill!
Aidan: (laughing) No, he was named after a REAL guy.
Me: (laughing) Buffalo Bill Cody WAS a real guy?
Aidan: Whhhhat?! I thought he was a legend, like Johnny Appleseed.
Me: (laughing) No, he was real. He was a big time cowboy in his time. He wrote stories, and he killed a lot of buffalo and had his own Wild West Show.
Aidan: (working feverishly on her iPhone): Then whose this chick? I Googled him but got this girl.

Me: (I didn't need to look at the pic to know who it was) Annie Oakley.
Aidan: HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?
Me: (laughing) Because she was a sharpshooter in his show.
Aidan: (scrolling through pictures on her phone) Where's his blue buffalo?
Me: What?
Aidan: I thought Buffalo Bill was the guy who rode around on a blue buffalo.
Me: (laughing) You're thinking of Paul Bunyan and his blue ox!!!
Aidan: (laughing) Oh yeah! This is funny. Now I have something to tease Cody about. I'll tell him he was named after a guy who loved mullets.

And with that, she changed his avatar in her phone to this:

Okay, back to Christmas talk. When I woke up this morning, I put Monet is her Christmas jammies. She pretty much hated it, as you can tell by the "I hate you" shooting from her eyes.

And "the look" just got worse:

And didn't get any better when I changed her into her Christmas dress:

So, I had mercy and took it off so she could run around naked, happy, and free. :)

Wow, the kids are still sleeping. I could've slept in.

Anyway, have a very Merry Christmas, and remember that the holiday isn't about gifts, or turkey, or greed, or treasure, or material things, but about the arrival into our world of our savior, Jesus.

Christmas Joy

Well, I felt good enough to make it until 2:00 at work yesterday...I got my bonus, and we had a fun office party. I received a very comfy blanket that happens to be my favorite color--blue--and a really cool candle thingy that you plug into a wall and it's like a nightlight and a candle. I also won a bottle of wine in our office raffle, but I traded it for one of those 3 flavor popcorn tubs that seem to be only sold at Christmastime. I am not a wine drinker, but I am a popcorn eater (except the caramel--yuck--the kids can have that). Luckily, many of the office staff enjoy wine, so trading was easy. :)

But around 2:00, I started getting chills and aching, so I went home, and went to bed. I would've had a nice nap if a certain naughty puppy hadn't kept licking my eyes every time I tried to close them. Anyway, I was still cold, so I took my temperature and wasn't real surprised to see it was almost 102. But some Tylenol and antibiotic did the trick, but I still didn't want to risk it by going to the hospital's OR party.

I'm glad I stayed home, though, because my chase friends kept me company through texts...

Today, I just chilled in my room, played some Skyrim, then took Joe to meet his friends at the movies.

I caught up on the next episode of The Walking Dead yesterday, and it made me mad. Nothing really happened! It was the episode right after the tower fell through the fence and walkers stormed Alexandria. Nothing made a whole lot of sense, and if I was a TV critic, I'd say:

1. The first totally wonky thing I noticed was that Rick left Baby Judith ALONE in the same area as a woman who he KNEW was on the verge of turning into a walker. When Judith cries, the alarms would've been going off in my head as I realized my insanely stupid mistake, and I would have ran full speed up those stairs...but no, Rick lollygags as he ambles up the stairs and notices almost-dead-lady isn't on the couch anymore. Finally, he takes action and pulls a sword...but wait, she's not a walker yet, and she just wanted to see the baby one more time.

I was like, "Wait...Really?" I know it's Rick, and he's known for moron mistakes, but this one takes the cake. I was dumbfounded. "Oh, the almost dead lady turning into a flesh eating monster before our very eyes is safe enough for Judith to stay alone with her."

2. Why doesn't Glen get in there and try to help sooner?

3. Why doesn't the bloodthirsty killer in the basement kill Carol, the doctor chick, Martin, the
Aspergers guy, and those two other girls when he got the gun? I can see him taking a hostage, but why didn't he kill the rest of them? He had no qualms butchering people a few days before, so why does he hesitate now? Makes no sense.

4. If I was the older lady on the couch, I would've shot myself long before. Why lay there and suffer, postponing the inevitable? Why risk waiting TOO long and snapping from life to zombie before you can pull the trigger?

Those were my main problems with the episode that resolved absolutely nothing. The next episode better make up for it. Lol.

In other news, I submitted my SAT scores to Mensa (1400), so I can be a member. Every time I receive an insult I'll post a pic of my very own Mensa card.

So lots up stuff coming up the pipe. Be watchful, take notes.

Tis the Season...

...for a kidney infection, tra la la la la...la la la la.

To make a long story short, the combined undetected-until-yesterday kidney infection and the loss of five pounds this week (flip flop thyroid) depleted my potassium, and I was really sick and miserable yesterday. I ended up taking about 70 mEq of potassium last night to avoid a visit to the ER for a very painful, burning bag of IV potassium. If you've ever had potassium via IV, you'll know what I'm talking about. I feel about 80% better this morning, even though my back still hurts. I'm taking antibiotics, though, so should be 100% soon.

I really wanted to go to work today, too. It's our office Christmas party and gift exchange, and I think our Christmas bonus will be handed out today, and I could really use it. I drew my boss's name out of the hat for the secret Santa, and since I share an office with her, I know what she likes. I ended up spending more than the $25 limit, but I know she will spend more than that on my gift, too. She already gave me one gift early, a long sleeve Philadelphia Eagles tee shirt from her trip to PA earlier this month. I collect team tee shirts and shirts with numbers on them (don't ask me why). My boss loves musicals and Broadway and books and gossip, so I bought her a giant book all about Broadway, and another big book about all the interesting stories and scandals that happened behind the scenes.

Tonight is the hospital operating room's Christmas party. Since I'm involved with surgeries, I'm invited. I don't know if I'm going to go to that. I sort of just want to relax after feeling so miserable yesterday. And a room full of surgeons is...*YAWN.* A room full of drunk surgeons can be pretty amusing, though, so maybe I'll still go and keep my boss and other friends from the OR company. A home health rep I've become good friends with, Jennifer, wants to go, so I'm supposed to bring her as my "date." I don't really want to let her down, either, so maybe I'll suck it up and go, even for just a little while.

And our little hospital is pretty cool...they definitely got it going on. Look, they even have YouTube videos!

I can also hope that Dr. Jaaaaaayyyy Taylor from the ER will be there. He's a cute young doctor with an infectiously happy personality who hasn't yet become a pillar of unfeeling stone and still loves helping people. I've never met him face to face, but speak to him on the phone quite often. He usually calls my extension (because no one else wants to answer a call from the hospital) and I like the way his cheery voice says, "Hey Mindy! This is Dr. Jaaaaaaayyyy Taylor from the ER, how are you?" He says his name like a wrestling announcer, or like a cartoon character, I can't decide which. But I laugh every time. It's people like him who make working in the health care industry fun. Don't worry guys, he's too young for me (I think) and I'm pretty sure he might be married.

Here's a pic of my "date," Jennifer, who stopped by with her boss, Karen, to say "hi" for Christmas. Karen is notorious for dressing up for every holiday and paying us surprise visits. The dour looking guy in the background is one of our PA's, Don. He's actually not really dour, but pretty cool.

Soooo, I'll probably end up going to both parties, especially if I feel even better.

Ha ha...I just found another video with our hospital family...I recognize some of our funny MD's...

The Beauty of "Trash Day"

Today is Friday, and since I'm a single person, I had to take out the trash this morning.

I don't like taking out the trash. Because I dislike it so much, I try to remember to take it out right after I wake up, between 4:30-5:00 am. At this time of the year, it's still pitch dark outside and I don't have to worry about the neighbors seeing me in my way too big Bucs shirt and jogging shorts.

This morning caught me by surprise.

As I was hauling out as the overfilled trash bin to the curb, thinking about the to do list waiting for me at work and wishing I could just crawl back under my covers, I happened to glance up.

Just above the horizon and nearly filling the sky, was the giant Orion, his blazing belt and accompanying celebrities seemingly alone in, and completely filling that portion of the sky.

The rumbling sound of plastic wheels on brick pavers halted, and the world was immediately filled with a comforting silence. It was too cold for the usual chirp of crickets, and none of the neighbors had ventured from the warmth of their homes yet. To quote a certain man, I felt I had shared a secret with the magnificent, towering hunter in the sky, and I imagined him flashing me a quick, twinkling wink. He was my secret, this legendary hunter.

I stood still, just watching, observing what I felt was a pivotal moment in time. This might be the last time Orion lines up precisely the way he was this morning, and I didn't want to waste a moment. I traced his form, and focused on the trinity of stars in his belt. They seemed so close to me...I felt tiny and insignificant, yet bold. With Orion watching over me, I had nothing to be scared of.

A neighbor's garage door slowly grumbled up and the fairy dust moment had diminished. I rumbled the bin the rest of the way to the curb, then turned around, and was again struck by what I saw-- the Big Dipper, upside down, right in from of me, and like Orion, all alone in the sky.

I felt blessed, and my minor cares for the day faded like waterfall mist into oblivion.

Stars have always held power over me. Many of my poems feature the constellations, and many are merged with spiritual or personal themes.

Like this one I wrote when I was fifteen:

I glimpse
A solitary star
Shimmering in the winter sky,
And for a silent moment,
We share the loneliness.

Or this one, written at about the same time:

An intimate thought
I think to the brightest star
And I wonder
If you glance up
And catch it as it blazes.

Or this little, sorta silly one:

Stars are fancy.
Burning a drama alive.

And this sad one:

The waves are beautiful at night
Under a star drenched February sky,
But they don't stop
For the sake of my tears.

And the stars
Are a majesty
Crisp and cold and fire all the same,
Yet they don't cease to burn
To bear the burden of my sorrow.

And this one I found in an old William and Mary notebook. I must've been writing in there soon after high school, when I shared a class with the pastors son, Joel Wild, who was my on and off again boyfriend and best friend for years. His dad, a famous Calvary Chapel pastor, Malcolm Wild, and his wife, Carol, sorta adopted me into their family. They became my mentors, and I'm still proud to this day to call them dear friends.

Anyway, here's the poem...

I see You, Lion; it's no mistake
Leaving the stars in Your wake.
Your growl is thunder, your ire hail--
   I see you flash Your angry tail...
As You took to us, we knelt to You
For peace and strength and hope anew.

I see You, Lion, in the night
Three bright stars to unite
Our fallen world, and it's people, under one God, under one steeple.
But can it be done? Can it be true?
Or are Your people just much too few.

I see You, Lion, leaping high
Dodging stars across the sky,
You move so fast, You seem to stand still--
Omnipresent, with hearts to fill
With love and magic and a shooting star
To race with You, and not from afar.

So, maybe taking out the garbage isn't so bad, now....treasures are to be found among the trash. :)

Glenn Dies??!

I got off work a little early today, and after I cleaned the house a little, I decided to catch up on The Walking Dead. I'd only seen the first episode of Season 6, so I had (and still have) a lot of catching up to do.

About halfway through episode 602, Aidan comes in my room.

Me: Watch The Walking Dead with me...
Aidan: I've already seen them all.
Me: Then I'll turn on the Parks and Rec so you can see L'il Sebastian (she will love that episode).
Aidan: I'm not up to that season yet.
Me: Then go clean something...
Aidan glances at TV and smiles as Maggie appears. "Momma, who are you on The Walking Dead?"
Without hesitation or even a twitch or blink I say, "Obviously Michonne!"

Aidan starts LAUGHING.
I pause the show.
Me: What? Who do YOU think I am?
Aidan: Momma, you are Maggie in EVERY single way but the accent. Every time I see Maggie, I see you!

How I often picture Maggie....lost with a touch of hopelessness in her eyes...

I'm totally indignant. Maggie?! The sensitive, fragile MAGGIE?! I couldn't believe it. I couldn't see myself as anyone other than the kick ass yet tender, katana wielding Michonne.
Me: I am SO not Maggie! I'm Michonne. You're Carol.
Aidan just keeps laughing hysterically.
Me: You're Carol and Rick combined.

Aidan laughs and laughs and I wish I had a katana.
Aidan: Momma, Maggie is good. She's tough AND like a momma. Michonne isn't.
Me: Michonne was a momma...
Aidan: Yeah, but she's hard now. You're not.

And it hit me. I AM more like Maggie. While Michonne has a tender, protective side, it's not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of her.
And as much as I would like people to think of me as a tough Viking warrior superhero when they first meet me, I realize that they won't see me that way. They'll see Maggie. Maggie has a hidden toughness, though, and I've got to hold on to that.

Maggie can be pretty awesome, too.

Maggie is hesitant not because she's scared, but because she values life.

Then Aidan left, and I started episode 603.
AND WHAT THE HECK!?
GLENN DIED! A horrible, scary, violent death, and I was suddenly bawling as I imagined watching that scene through Maggie's eyes. Having just been told I was Maggie in just about every way, I identified really, really strongly with her at that moment.

Yes, I know. It's fiction, just a TV show. But that doesn't stop me from thinking of the "what if's" and the utter horror of the scene. What if it was real? The heartache the fictional Maggie would feel would feel very real to me.

 OR...what if it was really me in real life watching my loved one die a very real and horrible death? Those are the thoughts that get me...

Why did Glenn have to die?

Oh, but I just got an update. All my crying might have been wasted. Check out these texts between me and Aidan after I realized Glenn was gone forever...

Kindergarten

Although I can't remember what I had for lunch Monday, or what year it was when I was 16, I can remember very vividly my first day of Kindergarten. I don't know if the ability to remember that day is anything special, but I know a lot of people that can't remember their elementary schoolteacher's names, let alone certain days or events.

I've heard that stressful days are more easily remembered (I was driving to an x-ray class the morning the Twin Towers fell), and maybe that's why I remember that first day of school so well.

I'm sure the Asperger's played a part in the stress of that day, and virtually every single school day after that.

I went to Tropical Elementary School in Merritt Island, Florida. Merritt Island is a quiet town next to Cocoa Beach (I Dream of Jeannie).

When online today, I discovered that Tropical Elementary is no longer home of the Trojans as it was when I was a kid, but is now home to the Trailblazers. I wonder why they changed the mascot?

Before that first fateful day, I was told my teacher was named Mrs. Bearning. My mom made the dire mistake of saying "like a bear" when pronouncing it, and my little Asperger's mind went wild imagining a bear-teacher ripping her students to shreds.

So, that first day, I think the other moms must have laughed at my Zombie mom, dragging her left leg as I clung to it like a tick. She finally peeled me off, and I dared a peek at Mrs. Bearning.

Attempting to fake being normal. 

She smiled at me. I remember that smile, full of warmth and grace and unicorns. I relaxed, but the moment of peace was shattered when she pointed to my desk, which was grouped with three other desks in the center of the front row of the classroom.

Everyone would be able to see me there.

A precocious little girl with two dirty blonde braids and a freckled nose grabbed my hand and started to pull me around the classroom. In her incessant chatter, I learned her name was Janet. She and I would be best friends on and off throughout elementary school.

I remember her pointing out the coolest things in the classroom--wooden toys. There were blocks, and a kitchen made from this polished tan wood. Nothing was bright and gaudy like the plastic toys in JC Penney's Christmas aisle. Each item, from the wooden cars to the wooden oven, looked like it had been carefully and wonderfully made. I can even remember loving the smooth grain of the wood, and how parts of the polish felt like wax.

There was a wooden balance beam, and Janet led me over it as I stared in awe at something marvelous in the back of the room. A wooden puppet theater with a bright red, velvet curtain. Beside it were my favorite things in the world--a whole bunch of puppets. Some were obviously expensive and elaborate--like the Velveteen Rabbit with it's realistic coat of fur, and the prince and princess with braided yarn hair and satin and velvet capes and knickers. Others seemed to be simple socks with button eyes and red felt tongues. It didn't matter--I loved them all.

I was suddenly in love with Kindergarten.

But I was still encased solidly in my shell. I remember not saying my name when the teacher went around the room. She asked me again to tell the class my first and last name, and I balked, staring at the ground like a mute idiot. She smiled, and told the class my name. I loved her for that.

I remember our first task was to write our name at the top of a blank white piece of construction paper. I hated that my name was so long, "Mindy Montgomery," but as I finished the task, I glanced around the room and saw that nearly all the other kids were still struggling. Mrs. Bearning calmly walked around, helping each one. I wanted to tell her I could help them, too, because I knew all my letters, and I knew how to spell. But I didn't. I was trapped inside my head, and would remain that way for years. But at least I could write, and that became an instant outlet for me.

After everyone finally had their names down, Mrs. Bearning asked us to draw and color a picture of something we did over the summer.

I knew exactly what to draw, but I only needed two crayon colors, black and white. I drew a picture of Shamu, because my mom and dad had taken my two brothers and me to Sea World. I remember finishing the picture and not liking it very much because I didn't think I had made Shamu's back arched enough. But there were no erasers, so I had to let it go.

In the 1970's, Asperger's wasn't a thing, so no one knew I was different but me. The teachers treated us all the same, but most were pretty perceptive and accommodating when they realized one kid wasn't exactly like the others.

At lunchtime, I was the only one to bring a bag lunch. My mom knew there was no way I would eat anything from the cafeteria, so she had packed a plain bologna sandwich on white bread cut into two triangles like I liked it, and a bag of Cheetos. Mrs. Bearning took extra care to prevent me from feeling weird by saying how she wished she had remembered to bring her brown bag lunch, too.

After a while, Mrs. Bearning taught us how to "line up." Once in a line, she waited patiently for the chatter to stop, then said we must walk on "mice feet" to the playground. She demonstrated by walking on her tiptoes, and I remember smiling as the other kids cackled. Being Miss Literal, I actually did walk on tip toes past the other classrooms as we made our way single file to the playground. I don't remember if anyone else did, though.

I was a lanky, tall, scrawny kid who my mom always said "barely ate enough to keep a bird alive." And being of Scottish and Scandinavian ancestry, I had inherited enough of those genes to make me heat-intolerant. And Florida in August isn't the best place to be if you're a heat-intolerant kid. I remember Mrs. Bearning pulling me aside after Janet and I had been sliding down the metal slide that was so shiny it appeared to have been polished. She said something like, "Mindy, your face is beet red. Are you okay, dear?"

I did better in the cooler weather...

I remember whispering, "My face always does this when I play outside."

She wasn't convinced. She led me to the shade of an oak, and made me sit down. She instructed Janet to ask one of the other teachers to get me a cup of water.

I was miserable. It felt like I wasn't hidden in the shade, but under a giant spotlight with every single kid staring at me and wondering what awful thing I had done to be punished. I wanted to bury my head in the dirt and disappear and never come back to Kindergarten again, despite it's moments of sheer wonderfulness.

After a few minutes, my face was still flushed, and Mrs. Bearning was now worried enough to take me to the clinic. The nurse took my temperature and it was 101.5, so she called my mom. My first day of school ended about an hour early.

And that's all I remember about that first day, but apparently I summoned the courage to go to school the next day, and for 12 more years after that. And after those twelve years, several more of college.

I guess I'm proof that an incredibly shy, dress-hating, tomboy misfit can make it in this world...