Dream Journaling

Last night, or this morning, I had a dream that I was graduationg -- or something celebratory where I was the center of attention, but mostly like a graduation of some kind. It was very strange. There were lots of people there and more who were on their way. Jamie was there and her whole family had come with her. And Lauren was there and I was so happy to see her. In the dream, I don't think I knew she was gone but I did know that I hadn't seen her in a very long time and that it was something extremely special for her to be there -- I knew getting to see her was a big deal. Adrianne was there and I cried when I saw her, it's been such a long time since we've been able to spend any real time together. Two girls I knew from high school were there, Michelle and Amy. I haven't seen either of them since high school nor have they really crossed my mind, but all the same, I couldn't believe they had come all that way just on my account and I was very appreciative. One of my childhood girlfriends was there, Shanna. Again, it's been years, probably close to 20 years or more since I've seen her. But still, I was flattered and grateful that she had come to share in this occasion with me. My mom and dad (my dad, not Allan) were there, I think. It's hard to remember but I'm pretty sure they were. My cousin Michael was on his was, but he hadn't gotten there yet. There were other friends and family who had said they would be there, but called in the middle of the festivites to say it was taking too long, or something about the trip being too difficult or whatnot, but they apologized and said they wouldn't be able to make it and were turing around to head back home. Stefanie A.F. couldn't be there at the time, but she had made a promise to celebrate with me the next day...which was great with me...that way the party in my honor gets to last just that much longer!

I was also aware that I had a hard time remembering the mascot of the school where I was graduating (?) and everyone else knew the name of it, but I couldn't. And the school was out in west Texas, too. I knew we were close to Lubbock and figured that that was why some of my old high schoold buddies and childhood friends were able to come -- since they were probably still out there in that area.

Very strange...all of it.

When I went to sleep last night, I was so tense. I even talked to David about it, telling him that I felt like I was struggling within myself, still searching and fighting -- but over what, I didn't know. Money? Probably. Living arrangements? I'm sure that played into it. But there wasn't anything I could necessarily put my finger on.....just, not at peace.

I think Sawyer called to congratulate me because she couldn't be there.....I think. That part's a little hazy. Afterwards, we all went to some teeny little Mexican restaurant and ate. They lined up almost all of their tables and we got some of the booths too. The front door was a glass convenience store door and the chairs were the kind with metal legs and marroon cushions on the seat and the back, I'm sure you know exactly the kind I mean. But we were all there, Lauren, Jamie, Adrianne (and she had really short hair, too, and it was super cute), Mamy (? was she there? It seems like she was, but I'm not certain...I think I knew that I wanted her there....maybe that was it?) My parents, Jamie's whole family, Michelle, Amy, and Shanna, my cousin Michael was on his way and my aunt and uncle called to congratulate me and tell me when Michael should be getting there......Stef said she'd party with me the next night.....am I forgetting anyone? It seems like I am. One way or the other, there were a ton of people there on my behalf. Of course I was so happy to see everyone, I was totally crying the whole time. Each time I saw someone for the first time, I would start crying all over again.

Good Mexican food, old friends, current friends, and a party just for me....I think that counts as a pretty good dream. I have no idea what it means or why I had it. Maybe it has something to do with my upcoming birthday -- or maybe not. Maybe it was just what I needed to help put my spirit at ease. I know I need to see my girls again. When I think about how much I miss everyone, it physically pains me. God, I really need to see them soon. And not just in my dreams.


As always, there's tons more I'd like to write, but The Boy is up and I imagine Girl will be soon. Duty calls.

I'll write soon.....


Much Love!

"DO YOU HAVE A SEIZURE DISORDER?"

"Get ready to laugh, Lois. Get ready to laugh." --Peter Griffin, Family Guy


It was 8:45, Thursday night. I'm enthralled in the final 15 minutes of "So You Think You Can Dance" waiting with bated breath to see who would be crowned this season's champion.

"Come on, Sabra!"

My phone rings during the last commercial break. It must be Adrianne. No one else would dare disturb me at this crucial time in my life.

Nope. It's my neighbor.

Since the caller ID is set with her name, I answer the phone expecting her voice.

Again, I was wrong.

"Katy, are you at home alone?" It was her husband, Bob. (The names have been changed to protect the ignorant....idiots....I mean, innocent.)

"What?" I'm stammering, not quite sure what he'd even said.

"Are you home alone? This isn't a weirdo call." I'm thinking, Umm, yeah...so far it is.

"Yeah, David's here with me. What do you need?"

"mumblegarbleblahblah Emergency Room blahblah Blood Everywhere garblegarbleblah Susie burdlegumbleblah Watch the kids for me."

"Uh, yeah...I'll be right over." But in my head, I said, " Sure, gimme 15 minutes to watch the end of my show then I'll be there." I didn't though. I'm a good neighbor. I went straight over to sit with the three remaining children, all of whom were asleep.

(After I got there, I called Mamy and she watched the end of SYTYCD for me. Sabra won! Yay Sabra! I digress...)

So I get to Bob's house and he explains that his four year old daughter, Susie, had come to their bedroom covered in blood and was bleeding profusely from the back of her head. She said she fell out of bed but they didn't see any way that that much blood could have come from falling out of bed. He leaves for the hospital, says he'll call as soon as he knows something, and then 30 minutes later he comes back. He began packing a bag with clean p.j.'s for Susie and a clean t-shirt for Jane, the mom. He says, "You wanna go to the hospital? I can go if you don't want to. But I think you might be more comforting to Susie than me." I didn't really understand why a dad wouldn't want to be at the hospital with his wife and injured child, but, whatever. Yeah, I'll go.

Now, for those of you who know me, this is the part where you are thinking, "What the hell were you doing? You know you shouldn't volunteer to be around all that!" See, I'm a bit squeamish, if you can call it that. Any time my skin is punctured (injections, giving blood, etc.) or if I'm around someone who's just broken their arm or has some other kind of major injury, I have a tendency to lose consciousness.......and.......start convulsing. Like, a seizure. There, I said it.

But I had high hopes, as I do every time, that maybe I'd be just fine this time around. And so I was off to the ER, doing my neighborly good duty. Once I got there, Jane looked genuinely relieved to see me. She said that when Bob got there and saw Susie with her head bandaged with a turban of gauze, he told her to smile and he started taking pictures of her with his camera phone. Of course she started screaming, "Stop, daddy!! Stop it!" Then I understood why Bob had said I might be more comforting to Susie than he would.

They were both completely covered in blood. Susie's hair was reddish pink and Jane's yellow shirt now looked brown. She was still bleeding and I watched. Hey, I'm okay, so far. Cool. There were two ER nurses in there and we all worked to keep Susie, and Jane, at ease. 30 minutes go by and the nurse is still trying to stop the bleeding. He pulls off the gauze and I look. I see a 3/4 inch gash on the back of her head. Wow. I'm still looking and I don't feel the least bit sick! Awesome. This goes on for a while and there's talk of staples vs. stitches and the pros and cons of both. The doctor comes in and says that if he looks at the wound and it only needs one or two staples, he's not going to use anisthetic because injecting the anisthetic is very painful and requires at least two sticks. This is great. He's even expalining all this and I'm still good! He starts moving her blood-crusted hair out of the way...and I still watch. In actuality, the gash is more like two inches in length, or longer. And really.....really deep. I see him grab a syringe with a four-inch needle and he starts sticking it into the wound over and over and over again, not just once or twice. He moved the skin around so he could get under it and inside it and all around it. Susie is sobbing......it was really sad. Then he gets the staple gun thing and starts with that. One, two, three, four, five, (Good heavens, how many is this gonna take?!) six, seven....maybe eight. I think I lost count. I started to get a little light-headed. Okay, I'm glad that's finished because I don't think I should try to watch any more. The doctor shoots a staple out onto the bed sheet so we could see what it was that was going into her head. Fascinating. I need to sit down. I began to feel dizzy and light-headed. I sat down and just stared into space and tried to focus on my breathing. I'll be fine. I just need to sit for a minute. I hear the doctor talking to Jane about washing Susie's hair while the nurses try cleaning the remains of "monkey spit" (something used to stop the bleeding, I think) and chunks of dried blood from her hair. The colors of my shoes fade to black and white, then to a photo-negative.....



"DO YOU HAVE A SEIZURE DISORDER? DO YOU HAVE A SEIZURE DISORDER??"

When I come to, (yeah, that's right) the ER nurse is screaming at me. I'm so disoriented. I was sure that I'd been sleeping -- and dreaming. Wasn't I just dreaming? This isn't fun. What is going on??

She then turns to Jane. "Does she have a seizure disorder?"

Jane, "I....I don't think so."

"No." I whispered, now slightly aware of what had just happened.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Hospital." Barely audible.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm gonna be sick."

They bring me the pink bucket, wheel in a gurney, and lift me onto it. I'm drenched in sweat and totally pale, even my lips had lost color. They bring a wet cloth and put it on my forehead.

Nice. So, I guess I didn't need to watch...EVERYTHING.

"How are you feeling?"

"The back of my head really hurts. And my neck and shoulders."

"Oh, well that's because when you seized, you banged your head on the wall a few times. Then you were sliding out of the chair. We're surprised you didn't fall on the floor."

Fantastic.

*...sigh...*

Jane immediately starts apologizing. "I feel so bad! I thought you were joking around. All I did was laugh at you! I am sooo sorry."

"It's okay. I woulda laughed, too."

Jane wound up having to drive me home. She called David and says, "You married to a woman who passes out at the sight of blood? Well, she's sitting beside me in my car and you need to come downstairs and get her."

The next morning, David asks, "What were you doing? Why would you even try to do something like that?"

I pleaded, "But, I was fine! I was JUST FINE for like, 40 minutes!!"

He says, "Those were the 40 minutes you should have taken to REMOVE yourself from the area!"



Yeah.....



Susie's doing fine. Acts like nothing ever happened. As if getting seven staples in her little head wouldn't have been trauma enough, she also witnessed her lame-o neighbor having a seizure. (We all joked that I just couldn't let Susie get all the attention.) Still, no one is certain exactly how she hurt herself, but there was blood on the carpet by her bed. But, really...she's fine.

And so am I. Turns out I may have been unconscious for three to four minutes before I ever seized. ....That's awesome. But, I'm doing fine now. I was still a little light-headed when I went to work Friday. But I made it through with nothing more than a little bit of...whatsit called when you can't think of the right word? ...or when you use the completely wrong word? ...Aphasia. Yeah, that's it.

And what about the oh-so sensitive father, Bob, who sent his neighbor to the ER because of his inability to ....to not be an ass? Well, now that he's learned I have issues with blood and mangled bodies, he says he going to cut himself every time I come over, just to see if I'll pass out. Yeah, I told him I'd have to see a lot of blood before anything would happen, so he'd better cut deep.....real, real deep.





You stay classy, San Diego!

Winter, Spring, Summer, and Football

Even when I have no idea what day or month it is, I somehow spring to life around August 1st. My circadian rhythms are set on a yearly schedule and for me, dawn of my year begins just before the start of school.

This summer, I was almost dreading going to Burk. It had been so long since I'd even picked up a flag...And to make matters worse, since I was working full time, I didn't have the luxury of listening to the show music during the daytime so I could have ideas already mapped out in my head. I even told David that I would be somewhat relieved if this wound up being my last season to work with Burk.

Then, it happened. I woke up one morning feeling....excited, giddy, anxious, and...nauseous? Yeah...that's right. I'm not exactly sure what day it was, but I am certain it was between July 29th and August 2nd. Just like clockwork.

Football season (or, Marching season, if you prefer) was here. And I, much to my chagrin, was reveling in the anticipation of it all.

So I went to Burk, taught those girls (who looked so much younger than they ever had before), battled my aging frame (and didn't really win), contended with the almost-constant chatter (which was still better this year than last), lived with a family who is not my own (although it's beginning to feel like they are), and......................I loved it. Because more than almost anything else in life, this -- this chaos and drama -- this is what I do. It's what I know.

Today, one of the ladies at work began asking me all kinds of questions about colorguard and how I charge and what my job description entails. Her son is in band in an itty-tiny town north of here and they don't have a colorguard person. Since she's in the band boosters and since she just happens to know someone at work (me) who does that colorguard sort of thing, she wanted to see (a.) if she could get me an "in" with their band, and (b.) whether or not I'd even be interested in helping out. How pathetic is it that I didn't want to stop talking to her about all the possibilities? I had work to do and so did she, but I was absolutely mesmerized at the thought of working with another school, this time a bit closer to home.

Keeping in mind that, all this time, I have completely sworn off sponsoring a high school ever again. Sponsoring a high school is like volunteering for a five month prison sentence. You become shackeled to the lives of those girls...and everything that is good or bad in their private lives goes with that. That isn't something I'm terribly fond of. In high school, these girls are bound to their parents/guardian-of-some-kind for better or worse. College girls are legal adults, and as such, my active involvement in their lives is allowed to be more liberal.

For instance, in a college setting:
Dad's being a douchebag? Let's work on your effective communication skills and try to work things out. Still no good at home? Then here are the steps you should take in order to take control of your life as an adult and emancipate yourself from that environment.

Or:
Yes, I got pregnant while on the pill, and yes, you can, too.

Or:
No, it's not alright for boys to push you down the stairs or pin you up against the door, even if they say they're sorry or claim they were just kidding around.

Or:
No, you are not allowed to marry the boy you are dating when you are 19. Every girl suddenly decides she wants to be married when she hits 19. That boy then is never "the one."

Then I can always follow up the conversation with something like:
Oh, and by the way, I'm having spaghetti tonight. Come on over around 6:00, there'll be plenty. I'll see you then. Yes, you can bring your roommates.



.....Those kinds of things don't really work well in the high school arena.


Instead, in high school, you have girls who's parents are getting busted for drugs, and girls who have stepfathers smacking them around, and girls whose mom "really loves this one, so please don't mess it up for me," and girls who work all summer at Mazzio's in an effort to save up for college but Stepdaddy really wants to buy a new motorcycle and doesn't have the money so he "borrows" every last penny of her savings and promises he'll pay her back real soon.

And I can't do a damn thing about any of it.



Nevertheless, my insides were fizzing with anticipation at the thought of choreographing on a regular basis -- to be writing again and to be teaching again -- even if that meant it was for a high school. A high school with no current program. A high school that has never had a colorguard. A small, rural, high school......where there are girls who want so much to be in colorguard....girls who need something wonderful to claim as their own.

As always, I'll keep you posted.





MUCH LOVE!!

Give 'Em Hell!

So, I just got back from my three day colorguard camp in Burkburnett, TX. Three glorious, fun-filled days with 20 high school girls, teaching them their routines for the fall marching show, for 7 1/2 hours a day. Oh yeah! This was my fourth year to go down there. It's kind of strange...I never would have imagined that I'd still have this gig. Not after four years. Not after moving to KC. But I do. And I still love it; even when I hate it, I love it.

Camp started bright and early at 7:30 Monday morning. By 8:00, something in my right knee had popped, started to swell, and I couldn't straighten my leg or put pressure on it. Fantastic. 30 minutes into the very first day and I've already suffered a debilitating injury. Kinda hard to teach a fall show that's set to "Riverdance" when I can't move my leg.

Hobbled around the rest of the day and had Anita, the guard sponsor, take me to Wal-Mart so I could get a knee brace, ibuprofen, and Biofreeze.

"Didn't this happen one other year you were here?"

"Anita, this has happened every year I've been here," I said. "I have a knee brace to represent each year I've come down to teach."

One would think that, by now, I should know to pack at least one of these worth-their-weight-in-gold knee braces when I head out to West Texas. One would think, wouldn't one.

That evening, I took my 2000 miligrams of ibuprofen, iced and elevated my leg, slathered on the Biofreeze, and secured the brace.


Ahhh....


Tuesday.
10:00 am.
Burkburnett High School.

Going through the moves of the routine, and -- Sharp, searing pain beneath the patela of my left knee.

Damn.
It.
ALL!

The pain was excruciating. I contemplated asking Anita to take me to the ER. This one was bad, I could feel it. She was about to leave to run errands and would be back later. I decided I'd try to stay calm and see if the pain would just go away once I started ignoring it. (Sound medical advice -- Ignore it and it will go away. I think that's fairly solid relationship advice as well. Hmmm.... I digress.) This time, not only was my knee swelling, but there was pain when I moved my leg in the slightest. Not great.

I called the girls over and explained the predicament. I knew that trying to teach them their show verbally, not visually, would be just as frustrating for them as it was for me. I asked for their patience and, with flying colors, they came through for me.

When Anita returned, I told her that I'd be teaching from my spot on the floor for a while. She had been teasing me on Monday that I might have to teach from a wheel chair. She reminded me that it was supposed to have been a joke. I called David and told him I'd only bought one knee brace. Didn't really think to buy two. Who knew?

By late Tuesday afternoon, I was walking, ever so gingerly. What a relief. But then I discovered, it's really hard to limp on both legs. Comes out looking more like a waddle. Tuesday evening, both knees were iced and elevated, I'd upped my dosage to 2500 miligrams of ibuprofen, and smeared on about a half a tube of Biofreeze. In bed by 9:00 pm.

Wednesday, I taught from my chair. My left leg was tender but not a major concern. The right one, however, was still aggravated and so it earned the coveted knee brace for the day. Our camp was supposed to end at 3:30 that afternoon. We finished the show at 3:26. A whopping four minutes left to spare! Why, that's practically unheard of! I still had time to tell them formally how much I appreciated all their hard work and how happy I was to have been there again this year.

And then, it was over.

We went back to Anita's house and I was officially off the hook. My plane was leaving OKC on Thursday. I took the rest of the evening off.

*****

Wednesday, the final day of camp was also the four-year anniversary of my father's death. I talked to Jamie and she couldn't believe it had already been four years. On one hand, it seems like it only just happened, maybe a year or so ago. But then again, I'm just certain I've lived at least six lifetimes since my father passed. I also realized that last year, at this time, Lauren had only been gone a couple of months. I went to Burk last year only two months after her death. Once I started thinking about it, I remembered that I had tried and tried to make it over to Plainview and couldn't. And I wasn't able to see Jamie or Mamy or Stef either. It was like I had been smuggled down there under the cover of darkness or something crazy like that. Burk might as well have been in Siberia....because even though I was only a few hours from everyone, I wasn't able to see anyone. That was a strange time, in every way.

And so it was this year, too. I flew in to OKC, drove to Burk, stayed three days and drove back. I did get to have lunch in Chickasha with an old college friend of mine, Shirley. His name's Billy, but we call him Shirley. (Yes, there's a story behind it. No, I'm not going to tell it right now.) Hadn't seen him in years and it was great to spend some time with a familiar face.

On the way back to OKC, the scenery was beautiful. Everything looked familiar and I missed it all. I began thinking about us living in KC. I love it up here, I do. But I sure do miss home. ...Or, maybe I just miss familiar surroundings. Because, home is where? At this point, I think I have too many "homes" to count. And I miss them all.

Will write soon.

All my love!

Congratulate Me

I miss writing so much. But it was never such an indisposable part of my day that I couldn't put it down when things got hectic. As a result, it's been put down....like, for EVER!



Well, no more! I'll have none of it. I want (to try to save) this time for myself. I enjoy it. I need it.



I miss it.





So, skipping to the end...I am now an officially official employee of NC Hospice. (The names have been omitted to protect the innocent.) Yes, yes. Thank you, thank you. *bowing* My officially official title is Clinical Assistant. My boss is the Office Manager, I work for the Clinical Director, and I assist the Outreach Coordinator and the Education Coordinator.









I make $12.50/hour.







Yeah...





I guess I started out thinking that I just needed a position to get us by -- something for now, until David's bankrolling our day to day living. Don't worry about getting a "career" position...I wouldn't want to have that kind of time committment to deal with right now anyway.



Now. I think I feel a little differently.



I work my ass off. I'm extremely emotionally invested in the entire workings of the agency. I think, "How I can contribute to the growth of the company" in my off hours. And I make $12.50. Did I mention I have over $35,000 in student loan debt? For a degree that is, as of yet, untouched.



So I begin to wonder....If I'm working 40-hour weeks, if I have a deep-seeded desire to settle in to a team environment and contribute to the success of my organization, if I don't get to snuggle with my children on the couch every morning and make them warm breakfasts of pancakes and bacon and eggs......Why the hell aren't I making more friggin money?? To quote Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, "That don't make no sense!"



I am SOOOO thankful for the job I have been given. And I adore my co-workers and management. But I've come to a slightly painful, or more accurately, a breath-knocked-outta-me, conclusion -- there's no way out. That means, with my current education and the current employment structure of this agency, there are only two positions I could ever hope to qualify for: Volunteer Coordinator and Quality Assurance. Volunteer Coordinator? Well, we already have two and neither of them show any signs of leaving. QA? Yeah, that position is actually currently open....to someone with three years hospice experience. That's not me....not yet.



Because I am office staff and I have no clinical background, I have virtually already hit my ceiling in the three- almost four months of my employment.





Did I mention I have over $35,000 in student loan debt?





So is the job search -- or, should I say, "career search" -- back on? I dunno. I do know this job was provided by God Himself. No ifs, ands, or buts about that one. Was I put there because He has work for me to do there? *shrug* Was I put there as a means to provide income while finding my career footing? *shrug* Or, was it some other reason...something of which I cannot even fathom? I, honest to God, don't know.





I was awarded Employee of the Month for June! Hadn't even been hired on yet as a permanent employee and still got Employee of the Month. Frickin YEAH!



So, am I happy in my job? Absolutely. Am I happy in my rate of pay? Not as much. Am I out trolling for another job, *ahem*, career? Not sure yet. But I'll keep you posted.







I promise.







ALL MY LOVE!!

When It Rains...

OMG!! I have been so busy! I can hardly believe how crazy everything has been lately. I also hate that it's been so long since I've had time to post.

Well, unfortunately, this isn't going to be that time, either. Still too much to do today and not nearly enough time. Soon I'll get back into the swing of this. I just have to figure out how to keep all these irons in the fire without getting soot all over me.

I'll write soon, I promise. I have sooo much to write, too. It may even be a two-parter (or three.)

Much love.....

I Never Did Mind About the Little Things

I've never been much of one for making resolutions. I did when I was younger, but they were always too vague or ambitious to ever succeed. I will lose weight. I will get organized. I will stop procrastinating. Well, how will I achieve this? How long will it take? How do I plan to measure my progress? The answers to those parts of the resolutions were never answered. I was doomed to fail before I'd even started. As a result, resolutions have just never been my bag, baby.

But this year, in some way, I think that might not be the case.

As I inventory my life, there are specific and identifiable areas in need of improvement. As well, I have reached a state of mind where I can allow myself room for growth or decline, without guilt for either. (I suffer from a minor case of "fear of success." It doesn't affect me in that many ways. Unfortunately, when it does, it really does. i.e. 14 years to graduate from college. 'nuff said.)

And so, here's the rundown:

1. God help me, I have got to stop fighting within myself. I need peace. I need Lauren-days. I have got to be okay with situations and circumstances beyond my control. When Lauren came up for Spring Break, we were in the car together discussing my stress level and the amount of tension I allow to settle on me. She told me I was going to have to give up control. I had to stop doing battle with all the shit I could do nothing about. This seemed reasonable enough, but the only thing I could think was, "I have no idea how to do that. It is beyond my comprehension. Teach me. Teach me how. I am willing to learn." Then she laughed and said, "You're even trying to control how you release control of things?!" Okay, okay....I get it. "Control freak" was putting it politely. I was, at that point, a full-blown "paranoid delusional control psycho." Hmmmm.....yeah. I'm better than I was, I am. Most of the time, anyway. Okay, some of the time. Every so often, here and there. And that, my friends, must, MUST, MUST change. And now seems just as good a time as any to start.

2. Along the same lines as number one, I want to be happier with David. I want to love him better, more easily. I don't really know how else to explain that. It makes sense to me, though. It's not a matter of loving him more or being more in love with him. It's about....needing him, I think. I often find myself thinking I could do a better job of all this if I were completely on my own. I don't want those thoughts anymore. Whether I could or couldn't is not the point. I just don't want to think like that anymore. And now seems just as good a time as any to start.

3. The dreaded weight loss. Yeah, yeah. But this is different. I want to lose 10 lbs. by January 31st. On that day, I will assess my progress and be pleased no matter the results. Then, pledge to lose five pounds in February. If I only lose two, that's okay. I'll see if I can't lose five more in March, and so on. That way, it's not too much to chew nor will I be flogging myself for poor self-discipline or unsatisfactory performance. I'll just keep trying. That's it. And now seems just as good a time as any to start.

4. Get my shit together. I think that one's fairly self-explanatory. Oh yeah, and now seems just as good.....you get the idea.

*****

December 31st came with a light dusting of snow in the afternoon. It was so beautiful and peaceful and crisp. I got to share that with both children. We watched from the window as quarter-sized flakes powdered the deck. The three of us ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the snow together. It was as if the snow had come to clean away the remains of the year, the finishing touch. A cleansing, calming, near-perfect end to a tumultuous year. As the evening wore on, I talked to Mamy briefly. She had run into our friend, Justin, and he said he will be stationed in Wichita Falls in a matter of months. Mamy mentioned that it was only a three-hour drive to Plainview from there. He said he'd been wanting to head that way and was glad to learn it was a doable day trip. No names were mentioned, no memories brought up, that was it. They said their "glad-to-see-you's" and parted ways. Mamy said that was all she needed, and then she cried. I'm so happy she was one of the last people I talked to in 2006. I also spoke with my roommate and Adrianne. Roommate was in Alaska and Adrianne was asking for recipes for appetizers to take to her church "watch service." And David? He had a gig. New Year's alone.....ahhh, the lamentations of a musician's wife. Besides that, I chatted online to a couple of friends who were in similar situations. With that, 2006 came to an end.

2007. I went into the bedroom of each child, kissed them both, and wished them a Happy New Year while they slept. I don't know that I could have wished for a better beginning to a new year. Around 12:15, my mom called. That's kinda cool, I think. The very first person I spoke to in this new year was my mom. Then Adrianne. Then David. David tried sending me a text at midnight, but for whatever reason, I didn't get it. That's okay. It was a really nice sentiment. The very first day of this year passed without much fanfare. But I did talk to Jamie late tonight....and we cried. Her day had been spent copying old halftime videos of Lauren's performances so she could send them to Jon and Sheila. Jamie said the only two games recorded from last year were Homecoming and the last home game. At Homecoming, I was there, and Lauren wore my old windsuit. At the last home game, I was there, and Lauren wore my old white costume. The two lasting images of her final year of twirling at Southeastern, I was there, and she was wearing something of mine. Jamie said it was like seeing the symbolic representation of the beginning and the end. At the last home game, Lauren was so beautiful. I did her hair and makeup before the game that day and, at one point, she looked at me and I gasped. She was ethereal and angelic. I wanted to stop and just stare, I even teared up. I told her this was how I would do her makeup on her wedding day. She had so much light behind her eyes....she was breathtaking. Everyone complimented her that day. People even told Mr. Christy how beautiful she looked. She was shining, glowing, radiant. Light reflected off her and shone out from inside her. .....Jamie and I, together, ended the first day of 2007 with memories of Lauren.

Adrianne told me that the watch service sermon was short and sweet. Like, less than 15 minutes long. Very short and sweet. The sum up was, "2006 is over. So, forget about it...whatever it is that bothered you 5-10 minutes ago, now it is time to forget about it." She said that, of course, the entire congregation broke into rounds of their best Sopranos accents, "Fuggettuboutit." For one moment, this made complete sense to me and I was entirely prepared to internalize that message for myself. Then, I thought about everything that was 2006. There were too many things I was unwilling to just "fuggettubout." Sure, I don't feel quite as determined to rail David H. Christy, Director of Bands at Southeastern Oklahoma State University for now. I have a peaceful heart at the moment. I don't want to start the new year wasting my time on matters of such unimport. I have not the time nor the patience to dwell on these inconsiderations. I'm not saying he won't get his turn. I'm just saying it won't be today, it may not even be tomorrow or the next day, either. As for everything else, all that was 2006, my life during those 365 days....It seems to have gone by so fast -- but I have so many, many memories, images, and feelings from that year. Beauty, dispair, anguish, peace, heartache, joy and every other conceivable emotion, they are all there, page by page, picture by picture, memory by memory. Full of the highest highs and lowest lows, I know no other words to describe it. Maybe this is a new year, but it is still a part of the same lifetime.

*****

The night before last I was watching Oxygen or WE or Lifetime, something like that, and subjecting myself to lethal doses of estrogen. Somewhere in the middle of this estro-fest I started watching the reality game show Dirty Dancing. Now, I'm not exactly sure what the real object of the game is, but somehow these girls with no formal dance training compete for the attention of trained male dancers and then all of the teams face off to see which couple most accurately captures the essence of the movie plot line...............or something? I honestly don't know. Anyway, they interviewed one of the girls and asked her how she felt about her chances of landing the gig with her Russian ballroom guy. She replied with all the usual "I'll do my best" blah, blah, blah. But then she said something that pierced me:

"Faith and fear cannot live in the same heart. And I have faith."

What? What did she just say?


Oh my gawd. I .....

I .....understand. I get it.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

And so, for what ever reason, this random, fluffy female had just become the Yoda to my Skywalker. In that instant, I knew what she said was true.....and I needed to hear it.

I Googled the phrase to see if she'd simply been quoting a line of poetry or lyrics from some emo anthem I didn't know. Nothing convincing came back. It seems she may have come up with it all on her own. Bully for her, indeed. And for me as well. Indeed.

What does all this mean? I haven't a clue. Maybe it's that I will remember the good and forget the bad. I will do my best and will refrain from eating myself alive. I will try not to lose sight of what's most important. It's okay to not be angry. It's okay to really just not let it bother me -- whatever "it" may be. It's okay to grow and thrive. It's also okay to fail and start over. It's okay that I'm still hurting from Thanksgiving and I might be holding a grudge. I'll work to overcome that. And it will be okay if it takes a while. It's okay to love my man with everything I have, even when I don't want to. That's okay, too. ....But no matter what this year holds, or how many new years come and go, I will always have Lauren with me, and I love that it is so.

I feel good knowing faith and fear do not live in the same heart. That is my resolution.