Recovery?

I thought a lot about this post yesterday.  What I was going to write about recovery?  Really though...recovery?  Who came up with these prompts?  And then, BANG!  Something happened that suggested needing recovery.  Below is my most recent recovery.  From shock.  Follow me, it could be a bumpy ride.

My husband has had his 1999 Ford Escort for a long, long time.  To put it in perspective, the locks and windows were manually powered.  That used to be a common feature.  Nowadays, there are very, very few super base (no, not Super Bass) models to be found.  It has over 150,000 miles on it and has served it's purpose.  The alternator has went out a few times, the A/C no longer works, and the tires are quite bare.

See, in Ohio that wouldn't have been an issue.  There's no safety check or inspector saying who can have what vehicle on the roads.  The initial plan was to run that car into the ground or until the wheels fell off.  Surprise, we're moving to Virginia.  This new foreign land requires state safety checks once a year.  After dealing with getting new plates and a Virginia title for this car, which is a story within itself, the Escort would need a 32-point safety check to keep on keepin' on.

This morning, he went out to look at his car, start it up (it hadn't driven since December 22, since the tags were expired), and clean it out a little.  Shortly after, he came back inside, defeated.  The cloth ceiling had started falling again, this time more than normal.  The outside looked more rusted and the cost of upkeep may turn into more than we bargained for.  I hadn't seen this sad look before.  Although I've been on the 'new car' team, right then, I knew how much it was hurting to let his baby go.  He had a lot of memories with that car, mostly good.  Immediately, I jumped into 'let's save the Escort mode' to try to appease his sentimental part.  He was pretty set in his ways, thus we just came home with his new car, leaving the Escort behind.

This is where the recovery part comes in.  I know it took a long way to make the circle, but here it is.  I was in complete shock when I thought he was giving in to the Virginia rules instead of repairing his baby.  He'd had that car for what felt like forever and it was more of his family than I was.  Letting go of something you've become so comfortable had to be hard, even for an inanimate object.

Right now, I'm (he probably is too) recovering from this shocked feeling.  Recovering from a long day at the car dealership, talk of numbers, options, and warranties.  Recovering from a whirlwind of purchasing a car.  Recovering from the understanding that the Escort was more than just a car.  Recovery?  That's what we're doing.

Good Girl Gone Bad (for one minute)

For day eleven of the January Blog Challenge, confession is the topic.  Hmm, so many juicy things I could share.  So many juicy things that I could share that could get me or other people in trouble if they ever stumbled over (and read) my blog.  To avoid getting anyone in trouble (mostly myself), I will divulge something from so far back, that I can't get in trouble.  I mean, there's gotta be a statute of limitations on mischievous things done in high school right?  Here goes...

For many years, I played softball.  It was mostly during the summer, and once I hit high school during the spring.  I really enjoyed it, but in the grand scheme of things, probably wasn't very good (confession #1).  I really blame that on summer ball.  I really felt like a star there.  But in high school, I was often a really good bench warmer.  Hey, teams need those, too!  I was an A+ cheerleader, not like an annoying one, just a "Nice catch!  Good hit!  Keep your eye on the ball!" type.  Keep in mind, as far as schools go nowadays, mine was small.  I graduated with 140 students.  As a freshman and sophomore, I was on the JV team.  I actually really liked my sophomore year, since I was the only non-freshman, thus I played.  A lot!  But, I missed my friends.  They had made varsity, because, let's face it, they were better.  At the time it was a big deal, a real big deal, but I digress.  As a junior, I was on the varsity team, but played little.

When senior year rolled around, I was ready.  Ready to spend the season with my friends, making memories, and trying to win a few games.  Unfortunately though (in some respects) I was one of the students cut from the varsity team, and as a senior, it would be embarrassing to be on the JV team.  It was devastating.  I was really upset for a long time.  In a roundabout way it gave me time to devote to the other eighty things I was involved in, including getting better grades.  At the time though, I was very, very bitter.  So bitter, that revenge was needed.  Who was this coach?  What made him think that I was not worthy?  I'll show him!  Keep in mind my small school.  So everyone knew that I didn't make the team.  Awesome.

The day before I left the country (for a school trip, over spring break) I had a stroke of genius.  One of my best friends was on the team, and I wanted to spend the after-school time with her, instead of her going to practice.  She wasn't really happy playing anyway, since I wasn't there (or maybe I'm making this up?) and the coach was a jerk (not making that up).  One of my pieces of involvement as a student was being an office worker.  Thus, me being in the front office was not that unusual.  During one of my study halls, I (and another student) wrote/forged a note saying that softball practice was cancelled for that afternoon.  I slipped it in the announcements box, and it was read at the end of the school day.  Of course, the softball team was excited (not knowing that it was actually not cancelled) and I got to spend the afternoon with my friend.

Upon returning from England and Scotland, I found out the coach had "known" it was me who had written the note, since I was upset for being cut.  He talked with the principal (who I was best buds with) and tried to prove it through handwriting samples.  Luckily, I didn't actually write the note AND my locker (which the coach took some notes from) was being used by another friend.  I was safe all around.  I never got in trouble for it, despite many people knowing it was me.  It's all about proof, baby.

Bring it back now, ya'll...

Back in 2004, I started college at Ohio University.  The next four years would become memorable based on the classes I took, experiences I had with friends, challenges at work, and trying to balance it all.  Most of these instances were positive and hold a special place in my memories.  In another mental chest, infamous events are stored.  For today, as a part of the January Blog Challenge, one of the weird, funny, what-in-the-world-just-happened moments that happened over eight years ago will be released from the vault (like an old-ish Disney movie).

Not many people know the back story of how my husband and I met.  For the most part it is an easy story to tell.  We worked together at one of the campus dining halls, during Sunday brunch.  Unfortunately though, that's all it really was.  Co-workers.  Courtesy of AOL Instant Messenger, (man, I feel old) I semi-invited myself (and was semi-invited) to a movie showing at the local Athena theater.  Team America:  World Police.  Although he walked to meet me at my residence hall and we walked to the theater together, it was not a date.  That was clear from the get go.  His roommate tried to get him to pay for me.  Fail.  The same roommate ended up sitting next to me in the movie (for the first twenty minutes or so).  Fail.  It was one of the most uncomfortable movies to sit through.  Fail.  At the end, the boys walked me back to my hall and that was it.  All in all, it was an extremely awkward night.  I should've known that going in.  He is awkward.  What was I expecting?  One awful movie (I Heart Huckabees) later (also watched in a group setting), and the rest is history.

Homemade Memories

With the holiday season over with, the decorations have went back to their eleven-month storage home (aka giant totes stuffed into my closet).  Every year though, the same items remain out.  I wonder what to do with them, knowing I cannot and will not throw them away.  They will eventually end up in another tote/box/tin/drawer/nook.  I have often thought, there must be something I can do with these.  Each one hand-crafted with personality, thoughtfulness, love, and careful dedication.

Greeting cards!  What did you think I was talking about?  It doesn't matter the occasion.  Christmas, birthdays, Valentine's Day, or none at all.  Cards have a homemade feel to them, even if they were purchased at the local grocery store or tourist trap.  Obviously, there a variety of beautiful cards:  giant obnoxious cards, postcards, photo cards, handmade cards, musical cards, and even pop-up cards.

Each tells a story.  Where did it come from?  What is your relationship with the sender?  What treasured memories are stored inside your heart about them?  Not all of these cards have a long handwritten story inside.  But, in this exact example, it's the thought that counts.  The sender thought of you when sending out their cards.  It was intentional.  You were on their list.  

Behold, our most recent Christmas, Birthday, and just because cards.

Now, after scouring pinterest, I have found something I can probably do.  A greeting card book to exhibit the cards that I have been hoarding for the past 20+ years.  I do get this gene from my mother and her mother.  It runs deep.  The way I see it, these cards (or other mementos) meant (mean) something.  Most people live in the present and look towards the future.  These are my connection to the past.  Sometimes cards (or other treasures) spark a memory that triggers an emotion.  These cards are worth keeping, preserving, and putting some time and effort into holding on to them for forever.

Every year, we do a photo card (with unblurred names, of course).  It's easy to make and a great way of sharing pictures.  I'm thinking ours will be mixed in with the rest of the cards we receive.  They are just a reminder of the past and how far we've gone since then.

Honestly...

Ok.  Honesty.  Here goes.

Every year I make New Year's resolutions.  Unfortunately they rarely make it into reality.  Certain items don't make it past January, because I lose my patience, passion, or interest.  Like Project 365, taking an artistic photo every day.  Honestly, it's tough, sometimes I barely went from home to work to home to bed.  There's nothing artistic there.  Others float in and out of my day-to-day life.  Such as in 2009, when I said I wouldn't eat Taco Bell anymore.  Note that it was the most appetizing? quick food closest to my job at that time.  Also note, I don't remember the last time I had Taco Bell.  So maybe my resolutions are just a few years ahead of time?  Honestly, I don't know.  But this year, I'm keeping one, for sure.  I know it's not very exciting, but work with me, will you?  As a declaration, in writing, for the record, (that I can promptly delete if I don't keep it, how's that for honesty?) that I plan to read 52+ books in 2013.  I'm on a roll, I've read one!  Last year, I read a few, with a resolution to read 52.  This year, it's going to happen.  This is going to be my year.  Honest declaration.  Let's go.

January Blogging

Okay, it's true.  January can be a bit grueling.  Although I did not hold myself to a new year's resolution of blogging more, I will be for the next 24 days!  A blogger from around my home-area that I enjoy reading about started doing a daily entry starting January 1.  I'm already six days behind, but I will be catching up with this single post!  From now on though, one post a day!...through January 31.  Let's see if I can actually stick with it anyway.  So, here goes, my daily entries, sponsored by Lindsey and Katrina.



I feel like this may become those chain bloggy things I did back in high school...and college.  Name 10 things that scare you, 9 places you want to visit, etc., etc.  However, I did agree to blogging more .  So here goes.

January 1:  NEW
I got a lot of great *new* gifts for Christmas that I could rant and rave about (also since I have not blogged since before then).  Instead though, I will outline some gifts that were extra special.

I still create a list of sorts for my parents, as to avoid getting a sword, electric knife, or pet rock.  Please note, all three of those would be ideal gifts for someone.  Not me though.  On said list was a set of "everyday" wine glasses.  I have recently found an appreciation for a sweet red wine and drinking out of regular glasses is obviously wrong.  Keep in mind I'm not drinking this perfect wine every day, but I didn't want something beautiful, fragile, and therefore unappealing for drinking on a Wednesday night, by myself.  On Christmas morning, I opened a "set" of seven wine glasses.  My loving, thrifty mother had bought Monday-Thursday glasses, Friday-Saturday glasses, and then Sunday.  They were labeled of course, not just for everyday, but every day.  Four medium glasses for Monday-Thursday, two large glasses for Friday and Saturday, and one tiny glass for Sunday.  Perfect.

It only makes sense that the 'Bless this Home' wall hanging is also from my mom.

I also received a carry-on bag to replace the one my lovely husband had involuntarily squished on an airplane.  The new one does not match the set we already have, but it is purple.  Purple may be my new favorite color.  Color was not one of the new things I had planned on discussing.  Bonus!  Anyway, a picture of it is not exactly exciting, so let's move on.  

From my in-laws we probably got the most needed gift.  A vacuum.  Yes, a vacuum.  You would not believe how much our 20 pound beagle sheds until you sweep the floor with a new vacuum made for eating pet hair.  It's a Hoover and it's my new favorite thing.  In fact it has made cleaning bearable.  Seeing the canister fill of all the hair from my lovable doggie just makes me smile.  For those of you wondering, yes, we had another vacuum prior to this piece of magic.  It couldn't compete with this one, nor the hair it was supposed to be picking up.  

The last couple gifts are close to my heart, but not in geographical distance.  We moved to Virginia in July.  Since then we have been back to Ohio multiple times.  Most of the time it doesn't bother me how far away we are.  Except when I realize how long it's going to take to get there.  Seven hours to my "house!"  It used to be no more than three!  But before I get a little weepy and nostalgic, below are gifts from my sister-in-law and my probable sister-in-law (that's like a woman that will probably marry my brother-in-law, for those confused).  Both are Ohio products, one a tote bag/purse, the other a beautiful bracelet from Etsy zoomed in on Athens, aka the homeland (where I spent four years of undergraduate school, met my husband, got married, and will always love the campus).  So many memories in Athens and Ohio, both gifts warmed my heart automatically.  Not to mention I can sport one or both at any time and I'm not being a non-JMU fan or employee.  Perfect.

The background is obviously of this stylish bag I now have, please ignore the red state of Ohio.  In my book, Ohio is a green state!  Go Ohio Bobcats!  This is evident with the bracelet, right?

Holy cow, this piece of seven days is getting much longer than expected!  Let's move on to the second day of this challenge, shall we?

January 2:  TWO
Hmm.  Two?  Well, let's keep this simple.  Why is so hard to keep two socks together?  Whether they are clean or dirty, I feel as like certain socks are destined to live a life of solitude after one wear.  Sorry, socks, I'm not sure where you end up.  Live long, and prosper in hidden eternity, while I use your match to dust before throwing it away.  Yep, that's random. And I'm going to write one post a day for the rest of January?  Oh boy.

January 3:  BUCKET LIST
I didn't really like that movie.  I'm not the biggest fan of Jack Nicholson, or Johnny Depp for that matter (yes, I realize he's not in that movie).  No matter, my bucket list is not particularly written.  I kind of do things that I want, when I want to do them.  No real rhyme or reason.  If I decide that I want to go para-sailing tomorrow, I will do so...ok probably not because it's January and there's snow on the ground.  But that's just an example!  I don't really believe in plans in my personal life.  Bucket List?  No, thanks.

January 4:  PET PEEVES
Oh boy, this one could be it's own blog (yeah, that's what it's supposed to be...) based on the number of things that just seem to annoy me.  Let's just go with the recent ones, which are related to dogs and walking, and surprise, sometimes dog-walking.  When on a sidewalk, going down stairs, or on a dirt path, etiquette dictates you stay on the right side.  None of this holding hands business, walking side by side, or slowly passing someone.  Sidewalks/stairs/paths are made for single-file lanes, like, I don't know, a road.  If you feel like doing any of the above (which is not an exhaustive list) at least be courteous enough to stop for five seconds while someone is trying to get around you.  Related to walking...if you are walking in an able-bodied fashion (yeah, there's probably a better wording for this) you do not, repeat, do not, need to use the handicap door opener (again, probably better wording needed).  Something that really bothers me (and breaks the roommate...err...apartment agreement) is dog owners that do not clean up after their furbaby.  Why would anyone think it was ok to leave their dog's business in the front yard?  It makes it increasingly difficult for me to walk my dog, who I clean up after, of course.  She likes to smell other dog's stuff, and one of both of us end up with the smell trekked into our home.  Gross.  Clean up after your dog.  It's not that hard.  Ok, last rant.  Whoever created stuffed dog toys, with the fluffy white cotton-ball-like insides...what were they thinking?  I suppose it is possible that certain dogs do not tear said toys to bits.  I do not have one of these dogs.  In fact, can I trade this one in for a non-toy-destroyer?

It's all fun and games, until the moose loses his stuffing.

January 5:  BIGGEST FEAR
Well, there are a lot of obvious answers here.  Dying, losing loved ones, my dog getting hurt, brain aneurysms, etc., etc.  One that comes in my head and stays there is car accidents.  Oh no, they are not all deadly, and sometimes they're just a small bump that just rearranges your mental stability.  In November I was in my first real car accident, in my car, by myself.  I wasn't hurt, nor were the other two drivers/passengers that I was sandwiched between.  More than anything it was just scary.  Oh yeah, I called my parents bawling.  They probably thought I was dying, once they could understand what I was saying.  Car crashes are scary.  Yep, that pretty much sums it up.

January 6:  EMBARRASSMENT
Oh man, there's just so many things I can think of here.  Recently though, around Christmas, I tried to open a bottle of wine with a semi-old-fashioned corkscrew.  Let's just say I have a high-tech one that is very user friendly.  Anyway, using the parents' old corkscrew, I broke it.  In the bottle of wine.  Enter, loving, thrifty, tool-wielding Mom to the rescue.  Or kinda.  She used a small drill bit to make a tiny hole which we were to pour the wine from.  Between her and my Air Forceman? brother, everyone got a small glass of wine.  With cork as a garnish.  To lengthen the embarrassment related to creating this visual and emotional mess, I choked on some of the cork-spiced wine and proceeded to fully turn fifty shades of pink, red, purple, and blue.  Enter, loving, thrifty, tool-wielding, nurse Mom to the...game.  She tried to do the Heimlich  which of course made me laugh on the inside and gag even worse on the outside.  And that, my friends, was enough embarrassment for the evening.  Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

January 7:  SHOES (Last one for today!  I'm caught up!)
Shoes?  Hmm.  Well, my soon-to-be sister-in-law, (not to confused with my probable sister-in-law) is planning her wedding (with some input from my Air Forceman? brother).  On Christmas night, she asked if I would honor her and my brother by being the best Bridesmaid ever (in so many words).  Of course, shocked by this proposal, I gushed and cried my agreement (in so many emotions).  Fast forward to now...she/we are trying to find appropriate silver shoes/heels/sandals for her/their June wedding.  You would not believe the sheer vastness of the silver shoe.  They range from flip flop to eighteen inch stiletto.  Of course, being the clumsy one, I need a non-stiletto.  Period.  But just looking online, I cannot imagine who created all these shoes and what they were thinking.  Who, I repeat, who would wear some of these crazy contraptions?  Oh, please.  Don't let this be the shoe.  Please and thank you!

Seriously?  Who would be able to walk in these?  And why?  Why would you ever think you needed this particular pair of spiked heels?  Seriously.

Be thankful, every day.

It's the Monday after Thanksgiving.  There's leftover turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie.  There's grumbles about going to work after a long weekend.  There's the countdowns 'til the December holidays.

So quickly we forget.  Just last Thursday was Thanksgiving.  Remember?  That day, where we are reminded to be thankful for all that we have, opportunities we are given, and good fortune for the future.  

Unfortunately, sometimes it ends there.  One day that we are thankful for everything.  The day before and the day after, it is often forgotten.  People may sit around the dinner table talking of thanks for this or that.  Some people on Facebook are doing a whole month of thanks spanning through November.  That idea has merit.  But, at least for me, there's always something to be thankful for, every month, every day, not just November, or Thanksgiving.  

Although sometimes I joke, I know I am a very lucky girl.  I have a roof over my head, heat to take the chill off from the blistery winds, food to eat, and endless material items that I have accumulated throughout the years.  I have a job that I enjoy, fun co-workers, and motivation to continue serving our students.  I have a large extended family that would bend over backwards for me (and have done so on many occasion).  I have a second family I'm still learning to love.  Then there's my husband that shows his love through breakfasts in bed and grilled cheese and tomato soup, among other sweet nothings.  The newest addition, Rosie, the adopted shelter dog, constantly reminds me how much she is thankful for through sloppy kisses, wags of her tail, and sometimes sitting on my lap.  

The things I'm thankful for daily sometimes go unnoticed, unacknowledged, and unthanked.  Unthanked?  Sure, that's a word, because that's what they are.  Thanksgiving reminds us to be thankful.  We (myself included) need to remember that the actual Thursday in November should be just another thankful day.  A holiday to surround ourselves with friends, families, and laughter.  But all the other days?  Sometimes it's not feasible to be around the ones we love on a daily basis.  But they're still there, no matter the miles that separate us.  That's where the thanks comes in.  I'm working on it...  I'm working on being thankful for what I have.  Every day.  Not just when the holiday suggests it.