Nutcase 101

Life is full of comfort zones in life and we take them for granted. One of that B and I knew that was coming in 2010 is that we were going to be challenged to get out of this warm nest that we had established and take a huge leap of faith.

This leap affects B more than me because he’s going to start working on developing his own business outside of the shadow of a group that he’s independently worked with for the last six years. He’s always wanted to go out on his own and has the skillset to be successful. Honestly, the response he’s gotten from his contacts has been incredibly receptive. We knew that this day would come and now that it’s here, we have butterflies in our stomach and voices in our head screaming, “Economy. Is this going to work? Take the easy way out and the sure thing.”

But, each time I look at a business that’s successful, I think, “Someone had to believe in themselves and their product before any of this could happen.”

So, please send out some happy karma, say a little prayer and think positive thoughts for us.

If you’re awake and reading this post, you’re probably aware that 2009 has passed us by and 2010 is now what we’ll be writing on checks (if you still write checks).

This year, I do have resolutions and by putting them in writing and allowing public scrutiny, maybe I will actually execute said resolutions. Let the resolution games begin!!

- Organize the boxes of stuff in the my closet and guestroom closet. These boxes belong to both B and I pre-relationship and they (in my case) have not been opened in YEARS – at least four. A lot of the stuff either needs to be given away, sold or thrown away. Obviously we don’t need most of the items because we haven’t cared enough to pry off the lid.

- Exercise once a week. Just once a week, really how much ass power will that take me? I could say three times a week and be sorely disappointed with myself but once a week will wet my whistle for exercise and possibly cause me to go to the gym more. Because I know me, that once I get into the pattern/habit/addiction of exercising, I’ll want to go and will miss it when I don’t.

- Cook dinner at home twice a week. I’ve been incredibly slack in the area of cooking for B and I, relying on fast food, quick dinner restaurants to be our source of nourishment. This has caused both of our waste lines to expand in ways that make us sad puppies. Also, all my pots and pans are threatening to leave because of the neglect.

- Only buy yarn or fabric once every two months and the purchase amount has to be less than $25. I need to take pictures (once the closets are organized) of my yarn and fabric stashes. I think I have enough fabric to make 10 king size quilts and enough yarn to make all friends and extended family a nice warm scarf or a pair of socks. It’s ridiculous.

Four is a nice even number and none of the resolutions are overwhelming by any means – completely doable. And hopefully, I’ll do them. Let 2010 begin.

The cliche is “You can never go home again.” And no matter how many times you cross the threshold of where you spent your childhood, once you’ve entered the world of adulthood, you are now a visitor.

There was the familiarity of being in my old bedroom but without my sleeping partner next to me and my toys long ago given away, I couldn’t wait for the comfort of my home. But, every morning, I’d walk into the kitchen where I enjoyed many a meal with a mother who regulated me back to the role of child. I was told to clean up my dishes, pick up after myself and make sure that the dog could go out when needed. I guess you can grow up but you can’t get away from chores.

Then there was the disparity where I needed to be my mother’s rock. Mom is good at keeping up appearances but with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to call her mom to wish her a Merry Christmas, she’d start to break down. Her peppiness would leave her step, she’d ‘feel unwell’, there was a lack of light in her eyes.

On Friday night, the family gathered to do an early gift exchange because of me not being home on the 25th. My sister and I had left to run errands because my brother was out buying last minute gifts. When we had returned home, Mom was in bed and didn’t know if she was up to being a part of the merriment. I knew that she was missing a key part of her life that was there for 58 years.

But Mom did come out and join us. And Grandma was a big part of our Christmas because Mom presented my brother and I with belated Birthday cards. Grandma was an incredibly organized woman and had written birthday cards to all of her grandkids at the beginning of 2009 so that she only had to put the cards in the mail during our birth month. Of course, we were all bawling, knowing that this was the last birthday card that I’d ever get from my grandmother.

We took the time to exchange stories about how fabulous a lady Grandma was, how she made us laugh, learn and love (I think I’m channeling Wolfgang Puck). And through that, I think that my Mom got a bit of healing with knowing that we were all missing her mother. I gently reminded Mom that it was okay to be sad, miss Grandma, mourn but to remember that Grandma would want us to live life to the fullest.

The best part of being home is being able to hug my Mom. I think she needed all of her children with her for her to start healing. And another Christmas present: Southwest is going to fly directly from my home city to my parents city. So, hopefully, I’ll be home more than just for the holidays.

Okay, so, I may have written about Valemont once or twice.

I may have twittered about classes, houses, fights, people, etc, several hundred times.

And now all of the webisodes have been released. You can find them at MTV or on Valemont Commons, where you can find out what really has been happening at this elite university.

And you’re probably wondering why do I keep talking about this? Well, because, it’s a lot of fun to play pretend as an adult. Get involved with people from all over the world who take an interest in the Vampire lore told in a new and exciting way. It doesn’t hurt that one of my friends, Nina, is a direct contributor to the development of the game part of Valemont or that I’ve been working on the fansite as an RA all semester.

I can’t wait to see what the future of Valemont will become and that there is still a week left to the current semester and finals are ahead of us. If you haven’t clicked over, go now and apply to be a part of Valemont University! There is a lot of fun to be had and you never know where being a Valemont student might take you.

I, as most females, have a hell of a lot of feelings coursing through my body.

First, I feel okay about fucking up my chances at NaBloPoMo. I never get selected for a prize and, really, who wants to read drivel that will become my blog if I post everyday? I got sick. It happens.

Second, there is the process of grieving. I vacillate a lot between guilt and acceptance. The guilt part will hit me when I least expect it with unknown triggers causing a memory, that leads me down the path to a memory and a realization that I can’t call, email, write my grandmother and let her know how much I care. Then the acceptance will set in that I know she loved me and she knew how much I cared.

It’s the time between the two, that’s the hardest part because I never know how the when, where’s, how long and how hard the emotional roller coaster ride will be. Lately my trigger is when people mention hand written letters. Writing my grandmother was one of my greatest joys because I know that she was thrilled to get a note that took me time to compose – the details of life that I wanted to give her in a personal momento.

I can recall the first time I ever wrote Grandma, I was five and learning how to write. I dictated my letter to Mom, who then wrote it in block print so that I could copy in my own clumsy print. I painstakingly drew the shapes that I saw, hoping that I’d be clear enough for Grandma to read my message. And when I got a letter back in the mail, my first missive received with my name on the envelope, I couldn’t wait to read it with my mother.

There are days I wish I had kept that letter, in my keepsake box, but I’m sure my five year-old self ran around with the pieces of paper for a day or two then promptly put it somewhere I’d never forget where it was and then quickly forgot about it.

I have a box full of handwritten notes from all over the world and some are in the spidery, elegant script that belonged Grandma. And one day, I’ll get to share those letters with my children so that Grandma will still be very much a part of my life and theirs. Though, the irrational part of me still wants to see a letter from her in the mail box and the part that makes my heart drop is knowing I never will.

Today B and I got up early to put feet to pavement for the Houston Heart Association Heart Walk. This walk means a lot to me because in previous walks, I walked in honor of my grandmother who lived with various heart ailments for the last twenty plus years.

And as many of you know this year it was in memory.

A lot of people told me to man our team site or wander around the event because of being so sick earlier this week. But, I couldn’t not be apart of the crowd of walkers, some walking for the cause, in remembrance or as survivors. I needed to be a part of the moment, the momentum, knowing that even though heart disease and a heart attack took my grandmother that maybe what we were walking for as a collective would inspire someone to eat better or go see a doctor. And the money raised would cause some doctor or scientist to have an “Ah-ha!” moment to develop a method, procedure or medicine to prolong someone else’s time on this planet with their family.

I didn’t walk the full five miles as I have done in the past but I walked as far as I could go and it didn’t feel far enough, it never does.

In the last six weeks, I’ve known three people to pass away due to heart attacks. My grandmother, then five days later, a coworker’s husband and two weeks after that, a friend’s dad. Life is fragile and anything we can do to allow for one more memory or story with a loved one, I’ll take that step to help fight heart disease.

The love of my life has been cruising through life in a Miata. Yes, you read that right. A Miata.

It’s the car that we dated in. It’s the car that he took me to our proposal site in. And it’s the car that drove us to work for the first time as a married couple. And now it’s a part of our history.

And we had another huge first: We made our first purchase that required multiple signatures together.

B is now the proud owner of a 2010 Mazda 3 5-Door. 5-door is just a fancy term for hatchback.

(Car doesn’t have a name as of this post – but we are taking suggestions.)

Now to say this car came with bells and whistles, is an understatement. I think if I review the owner’s manual closely, I’m pretty sure I’ll find a button that will make the car cook us dinner and do our laundry. Now, the geeky feature B got all excited about is that the car doesn’t have a key.

NO KEY! You keep the car fob in your pocket and the fob talks to the car “Hello, car, I’m your friend!” and the car says, “Hi, fob, please bring you and your stranger into my inner sanctum of buttons and gizmos.”

And then the door unlocks when you touch the door handle. No touching the fob because fob doesn’t really like to be handled that much.

When you want the car to start, you press a button that says “Start” because the “Start” button also has a convo with fob as well. You, the driver, you don’t really get too involved.

Now, for me, this is all neat. Really, it is. But the feature that got me all hot and bothered? POLLEN FILTERS. When the pollen gets to much for me in the apartment, I can seek solace in the new car and breathe. BREATHE as nature intended: through my nose and not my mouth.

Oh, I also like the ass warmers. Because really after breathing, a warm ass is all you really want in life.

And a good day happened.

Then a succession. I was in familiar territory that I hadn’t stepped in quite a few weeks. Now, these days wouldn’t come across as spectacular on many people’s radar but for me, going through a twenty-four cycle without wanting to cry is a win in my book. (Now, we just have to work on the whole not sleeping again…)

And, then I started getting a few compliments: personal, business, physical, etc., and I responded politely without feeling a shred of guilt for being happy. I was able to bring out little Miss Mary Sunshine, who I had stuffed in a trunk, tied chains around, put a padlock on and placed in a dark corner of the scary basement that is my mind.

I was walking with shoulders back and head held high, letting myself remember this comfortable feeling of life. lt wasn’t the same life I knew before but it was the life I now live. And, knowing those watching over me, I’m probably getting a good kick in the ass for not finding it sooner.

I want to post.

I do.

My brain has a lot of things screaming to get out but right now I’m having a hard time facing it and I’m not sure I even want to share it with the world. There are times and places for everything but it’s not here nor now.

I will say that I’m putting up a good front to the world because each day it’s easier to make the motions that people want to see but I can tell that my subconscious is still in a huge uproar by my ability to get tired incredibly easy and my emotions being picked by things that I normally would not pay attention to.

Hopefully, when I come back to the blog in a few days my brain will be a bit more relaxed and I’ll be able to fill this website with happy things and good news.

It’s been three weeks.

Everyday I think about the phone call letting me know. The sound of my sister’s voice trying to remain calm but with the tenor of knowing she had to deliver bad news to me.

And when I speak to my mom, from the five minutes after finding out to yesterday, knowing that my mother’s heart is permanently cracked by not being ready for her mother’s passing and her memory fractured for not being ready to find her mother passed away. There is no super glue or apoxy of words that will make my mother feel like life is normal again for a while, if ever.

Then the times when I laugh, harder than ever before I feel guilt like no other. Thinking that this too will come to an end one day and I don’t know when that day will be. Tomorrow, ten years, fifty. And on Tuesday, I face a friend who lost her husband of only a few years suddenly, only a few days after my own loss. The emotions that course through me become incredibly real with fact of unknown attached. That’s when all things that I know are rational go out the window and my thoughts and pulse race.

I know that as days pass and the sting of loss fades, I won’t be as neurotic as the day before but until I come to a balance with this loss, I accept that I won’t be what I use to be. I never will. And that my actions may not be logical and eye ball leakage may occur on a moments notice, even when I seem to have been blissfully happy moments before.

My only desire at this moment is to be together enough for those around me who need a bit of strength to cope with their new lives. And knowing that when I start to crumble that my own rock is there to give me something to rest upon.