25 November 2015


I've had a clear realization of what exactly is missing in my life.  It explains being run down, tired, depressed, lacking in energy, blue.  Okay, so not exactly recovering from major surgery, no.  It's the actual feeling of being wanted.

Of knowing I am wanted.  It doesn't exist at home.

But here?  In Coquille?  It absolutely does.  Abso-freakin--loutely.

I can feel that they want me here.  I'm not a burden, an annoyance.  Something to tolerate.  I feel loved.  And that's hard to do.
But the thing that has really surprised me about it?  How I've reacted.  It makes sense, though.  The weight of not feeling wanted (by others' actions and words) is heavy.  It affects me physically as well as emotionally.  I know I'm recovering still from surgery but I have no desire to function.

I realized this yesterday as I was doing the dishes for them.  I hate doing the dishes.  From the time I was a child, words and actions have always caused me to feel that my worth to certain individuals was dependent upon whether I did the dishes. Growing up, it was a huge issue.  HUGE.  And it came with me into adulthood. Twenty-four years ago I was told that my lack of doing dishes regularly (among other things) was reason for him to find other women to sleep with.  Within the last ten years, I've been told that my struggle (for it is a struggle, though struggle is my word) to do dishes is a form of spousal abuse.  I was and still am stunned.  Not doing dishes is as bad as getting thrown across a room by your spouse?  Seriously?

So I balk.  But you know what?  I bet there is a huge number of women in this world who don't do the dishes every single day.  And their spouses don't accuse them of spousal abuse.

Okay, back to doing the dishes for the Oregon Marrieds.  As I was standing there taking a bath while doing the dishes (and they don't have a dishwasher so I was doing all the dishes) I realized that I was almost enjoying it.  Why?  Because I was showing my love and appreciation for their wanting me to be here.  Wrenn told me I didn't have to do the dishes but I did them anyway because I wanted to.  Because of the way that they treat me.

Go figure.  Me, doing dishes.

On the flip side, though, it caused me to wonder that maybe things could change on the homefront if I take what I learned here and apply it at home.

Oh wait, I was already doing that before my unexpected surgery.

*heavy sigh*

It's nice to feel wanted.

24 November 2015

Catching Up

It's been a few days since I wrote.  I've been a little busy.  *chuckle* I'd forgotten I wrote on Friday, actually.

I had a birthday between Friday and today.  My scale is now tilted closer to 50 than to 40.  I'm not sure how I feel about it.  I certainly don't feel as old as I am, and thankfully I still don't look it.  I was so stunned and grateful for all the Facebook birthday wishes.  People seem to come out of the woodwork to wish me a happy birthday--people that don't usually comment on my posts, or that I've even forgotten I'm friends with.  It seriously made my day.  Between that and finally going to The Peanuts Movie with the Utah Marrieds, seriously saved my birthday.

I got the usual Hallmark Snoopy ornaments from my mom.  I really do appreciate the tradition.   I love my Snoopy tree.  I tried to FaceTime with Shorty in Romania as we were driving up to Brighton with the Caboose.  Reception isn't great in the canyon so the conversation didn't go on very long.  Bummer.

I fixed myself two pieces of toast for my birthday dinner.

It wasn't the best birthday ever.  Wasn't even the worst.

"The" Movie: Not Exactly a Review

G2 has been trying to convince me to go to The Peanuts Movie for the past couple weeks.  Because I've been non-weight bearing, I've balked.  hereally pushed for the movie on my birthday.  I'm so glad that he did because that was the only way we celebrated.  GB and the Caboose came along, begrudgingly, and GB didn't even sit with us (by his choice).  But the movie was ah-maze-ing.

Facebook friends are actually taking my review serious.  One told me that she was waiting for me  to see it and comment before she went.  Wow!  Another shared my post about the movie on her wall.

I was actually concerned about whether or not I'd like it.  So many times a movie like this is filled with anticipation and then it's like....  meh.  *blech*  They ruined it.  Because Sparky's been gone for nearly 16 years and wasn't participating and because it was made in a different kind (current, new) of animation, I thought it possible to lose what made Peanuts, well, Peanuts.  

But when I started reading the reviews and watched/read the interviews, I knew it was in good hands.  I was still nervous, though.  What if *I*, Sister Snoopy, the admitted and committed Snoopaholic, went and was let down?

Well, as the credits started rolling, I cried.  I actually cried.  I was so overwhelmed by the entire movie.  It was Sparky.  It was the Peanuts, Snoopy, that I love.

The thing, though, that resonated with me happened at the very end.  I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it, yet, but the Little Red-Headed Girl said something that explained the importance of that "golden haired soldier boy".

On Sunday, my friend asked me what was my favorite part of the movie.  I looked at her blankly as I couldn't come up with anything I could really explain to her.  There were several things...  The fur.  The Flying Ace.  Seeing Snoopy on the big screen.  Hearing the children around me laugh and love the movie.  Everything  that makes me love
Snoopy.  I mean, the details of the fur made him feel like he was my stuffed Snoopy, come to life.

Comfort.  Peace.  Love.  I feel silly that I was so positively touched by a movie.  But I was.

I've waited all my life for this movie, without even knowing I was, and it was totally, absolutely worth it.

20 November 2015


The season started off with two losses.  I really didn't care too much.  The Caboose isn't playing (this year) and I just...  didn't really care.  I don't go to the school, even though the Caboose does.

Then they started winning.  They continued to win until the last game of the season where they got blanked, goose egged by an undefeated Lone Peak team (30-0).

The first round of the playoffs was the day after Cadee died.  Herriman was up against Brighton, the first team they played and lost to this year.  It was an emotional game.  They won.

The next week, the day after her funeral, they won again in the quarterfinals.  Watching it, I saw Cadee's number on some of the team members arms.

Last week, in the semis, once again, Cadee's number.  Once again, a win.

The state championship was today, against Lone Peak, the final team they lost to in the regular season.  They lost bad...

I was watching the first half and once again noticed Cadee's number.  At halftime, Herriman was up 10-0.  I got the distinct impression at that point to stop watching.  I know how I get emotionally involved in games and I'm exhausted and in pain so it would be bad.  I did keep up on the score, though.

10-6 in the third.

10-14 with 4:28 left in the fourth.

Torture.  It was torture.  I was keeping track in different ways and watched as Herriman gave up the ball with 2:37 left.  I figured it was a done deal at that point.  I was sad.

But then they got it back 26 seconds later.

Herriman (2:11 4th Quarter)
1-10-43 -- Reynolds sacked
2-12-41 -- Reynolds 7 run
3-5-48 -- Reynolds incomplete passs
4-5-48 -- Vaea 47 pass from Reynolds
1-10-11 -- Jutkins -2 run
2-12-13 -- Reynolds incomplete pass
3-12-13 -- D. Fotu 12 pass from Reynolds
1-1-1 -- Strasters 1 TD run, Rossi kick (0:22 4Q)

And scored the go-ahead touchdown with 22 seconds left in the game.

At that point, I watched the final 12 seconds with tears streaming down my cheeks. It's just a football game. Just a game, even though it's for the state championship. It really doesn't matter in the eternal scheme of things. But you know what? They did it. The first state championship in the school's five year history.

I truly, honestly believe it was For Cadee.

A New Ten

Today was the day.  I returned to my surgeon to find out whether or not I'd be completely crippled for my upcoming Oregon trip and to get the final stitch removed from the sesamoid surgery site.  I was a little nervous because it was a huge stitch.  Huge. And it hurt when he removed the stitches a week ago.

Here's a photo of the stitch, kinda gross, I know, though it could be worse, I suppose...  It runs from the top of the incision, through it down to the bottom, probably about four inches in length.  It's been wrapped up for the past four weeks.

Before he removed the stitch, I spent some time with a wax and tens treatment.  I was feeling pretty good.

Then he tried to remove the stitch.  It was stuck.  Somehow.  Took him ten minutes of pulling to get the dumb thing out.  Ten minutes of some of the most exquisite pain and torture I've ever experienced.  Tears, crying, trying not  to scream out.

I've had a few "10 on the pain scale" moments in my life:  cleaning road rash out of my hands nearly 20 years ago, my first child's final moment of the birthing process, the back episode nearly three years ago.  I think time tends to fade our memory of physical pain.  Well, it was brought back to be slammed into my face today.

He bandaged me up and apologized.  Then he also gave me sort of good news.  I can start putting weight on the foot.  I still need to use the crutches, since I practically need to learn how to walk again.  I'm okay with that.  I can handle using crutches to balance while I walk.  It was the whole non-weight bearing that was causing the problems.  This way I can walk on the beach.  I am taking the knee walker, though, for longer walks.  Al found me some crutches there so I don't need to bring mine.

I got home about an hour after he was pulling the stitch and I realized that I was still gritting my teeth from the pain an hour later.  Yes, it was that bad.

It's been over five hours now and I'm utterly exhausted.  Who knew experiencing a new "ten" would cause such a crash.

I also need to figure out what I'm going to take and whether I'm going to check a bag or try to go with just carryon.  For 10 days. And Al wants me to bring my lappy.

Can I sleep yet?

18 November 2015

With Friends Like These... I Learn Charity

I made the mistake today of commenting on a friend's FB post about the Syrian refugee crisis.  I have a definite opinion about certain things as I understand them.

As. I. Understand. Them.

I was frustrated because her rant was basically directed at "Christians" who claim to be Christian but refuse to allow these refugees in America.  After all, she complained, how dare they claim they're Christian if they turn away the most neediest of all.  Because, you know, we're just supposed to forget common sense to take care of them.

I expressed two of my concerns about it.  The first being that I don't think we should allow them into our country without being properly vetted (after all, haven't different groups or parts of our actual government admitted that they don't know how they're going to do it?  FBI?  Members of the military?). I mean, look at Europe.  Look at the international reports that some of those people who instigated the attacks in Paris last week may have come into the country disguised as Syrian refugees.   I read a Reuters report that either 70-80 percent of the refugees going to Europe males along with another report of many rapes in the refugee camps.

Secondly, shouldn't we take care of our own homeless first?  Actual American citizens?  Military vets?  Before we spend money we don't have on people coming from half a world away?

And why won't countries around Syria take the refugees?

Her response?  I apparently watch Fox News and don't read "my" bible.  Oh, and why not throw them into internment camps while we're at it.  And she's crying her eyes out because I'm so insensitive.

Wow, really?  I couldn't tell you the last time I watched Fox News. I don't watch any MSM news. I have longed to have an unbiased news source and have yet to find it.  I'm not blind or sheeple.  Is Reuters biased?  Probably.  It's also fairly "respected" in the MSM, I believe.  In other words, it's not Fox News reporting about the heavy male presence in the refugees.

I tried to explain why I feel the way I do.  She hasn't responded and I'm sure she's still thinking that I'm a horrible, awful person.  It makes sense to me and more importantly, I am at peace with it.  As the topic is filling up my news feed, I came across a comment that explains my second concern perfectly in my mind...

(I think he meant forgos.)

In the end, this is how I understand it.  Am I wrong?  Could be.  I'm willing to change my opinion when presented with real, cold, hard facts, not opinions.  Not assumptions.  Not ad hominem attacks or straw-man arguments.

One thing that I'll admit that may surprise:  One of the few things I miss about my previous marriage is that he and I could discuss things like this (at least in the early years) and he would explain things to me, not making me feel stupid like my family of origin has.  He'd help me understand why each side believed the way they did and I could form my own opinions about things.  Well, unless it came to our religion.  *rolling eyes*  But if I were confused or questioning about something going on the world, I'd be able to hash it out and come to a better understanding.

I miss having those types of conversations. I miss having someone who I could talk with about stuff like this, where I don't feel threatened for my opinions or made to feel stupid because I disagree with them--and they're right, I'm wrong, head in the sand type stuff.

I'm not going to lie.  I've been accused of not being a "true" Christian because I'm Mormon and don't agree with the Nicene Creed.  While I don't understand why I'm not considered Christian because of my religious beliefs, I'm used to it.  But to be considered not a true Christian because I want to protect my country from the possibility that terrorists could take advantage of the crisis by having clearly defined vetting guidelines and that I also believe we should take care of our own, first, rather than ignoring them to help others...  I'm not necessarily offended.  Saddened because she saw what she wants to see.  I disagree with her interpretation of scripture and therefore I don't believe.

Sadly, I suspect there's going to come a day when I may just have to remove myself from an online presence to save my sanity.  Or at least block people on my news feed.  I actually did that during the last presidential election with this friend.  It was awful.  Just awful.  I shouldn't be surprised about her feelings.  She's a bleeding heart liberal to the core.  Normally, though, she respects my differing opinions.  In fact back then, before I blocked her posts on my news feed, she posted something about Mitt Romney and our religion that was cruel and false.  I cautiously approached her about it and she *ahem* saw the error of her ways and apologized, publicly acknowledging that what she did was wrong.  It was just all the other stuff she posted...

But I think I've really learned my lesson this time.  Since I don't really understand what's going on and get my information from questionable right wing sources like Reuters or international newspapers, I shouldn't comment about it.  At all.

I think I'm going to go color some mandalas.

17 November 2015

The "Guard" Dog

She chases balls, she herds cats, she wiggles her tail in your face. What else can the amazing Sapphire do?  She can protect me from the workers installing solar panels on the house behind ours.  By barking.


I let her out this morning and she noticed them on the roof.  They had been there yesterday but when the high winds and snow started, they came down pretty darn fast.  But they were back today.  With icky music playing.  Lucky me.  Sapphie saw them and started barking.  They saw her and one of them said hi to her.  Cuz she's adorably cute, you know.

That totally freaked her out and her feathers were ruffled.  Okay, rather the fur on her back was standing at attention from her collar down to her tail and she started barking even more.  She came inside and continued to bark for at least a half hour.

Then more barking off and on throughout the day.  She had to go outside multiple times to make sure they weren't invading her space.

It was a very long day.