Another Worlds in the bag

Let's see how many spelling errors I can have In this one...

I went to worlds alone this year. It was...different. I still felt connected to people - the Carrollton school has made me feel very welcome. My Forney family is still my family, even the ones I don't get along with. The ladies in my ring - are so inspiring. The judges I sat with for score keeping (I love score keeping!), and those who judged me - were all great.

I had a realization this time. I've been "playing". No, let's be real. I have not taken my training seriously. I've quit training. I've made a million excuses - becoming disillusioned by people I respected, afraid to get hurt. Lazy. But this lack of training is showing. It's hurting my ego. And I had to step back and take a long hard look at why I let that continue to happen. I don't know why, but I know it can't continue. By not training, I'm only inviting injury when I do compete. So I had some decisions to make.

I want it back. I used I be good, and I want it back. It's not going to happen just because I want it. It will happen if I work for it. I want to train and I have no excuses other than just fear.

So I'm done with that. I have always been proud of the notion that I did crazy, out of the norm, things. Well, that's back. I've set certain goals for competition - some I've shared with my instructor, some that I'll keep to myself.

But just know - I want it back.

Tina, you will be missed - but Tina-II will drive on

I don't know that I've ever told the story of my car Tina. I traded her in today for a younger model, so wanted to write it down before it got lost in my memory.

We ordered a Prius in June of 2008 when gas prices went through the roof. it took two months to get it in and when it finally arrived, she had earned her name.

Back in 2008, a hurricane named Ike was headed for the Texas coast. Galveston had not seen a hurricane in many, many years, but this one appeared to be headed straight for it. We got a phone call one morning telling us that the car was being delivered that afternoon. The ship had landed in the Houston shipping channel that morning and rather than waiting a day or two like normal, all cars were being transferred to Dallas to avoid the storm.

So I named the new car Tina. Because she ran away from Ike.

Get it - Ike and Tina (Turner)? It still makes me smile.

This was long before the llama-kamas...but the name Tina goes with them very well...Napoleon Dynamite's llama was named Tina. Tina now has her own license plates, thanks in part to Thumper - 2lamas.

3.5 years later, Tina has been a faithful companion. I've run her out of gas twice. Left her running for nine hours and she a) wasn't stolen, and b) hardly used any gas. She's stowed a bass drum (the anchor bass), a smoker, a large duffle bag, a suitcase, a laptop bag, and two people (all at once. Her navigation skills are excellent. She's got new headlights and new tires, and 90,000 miles. She's still a pretty shiny red. While she had that much more in her, now was the best time to let her go.

Tina-II ... Or maybe Tina ver. 2.0? ... Arrives in a few days from Houston. She'll carry the same plates - 2Lamas. But like all 2nd wives, she's definitely got some upgrades. Moonroof with a solar array that cools the car - when it's off. Leather seats. Navigation. IPod dock. Internet. Only a single CD player, but I only have one CD - Tina Turner's Greatest Hits, which was the very first thing I purchased after driving Tina off the lot back in 2008.

Fitting, I think. Here's looking forward to 90,000+ miles with Tina-II.

People Warching

It's no secret that I've been married since I was "but a wee lass." this alsoeams that I've been the wife of a Dallas Fireman for 25+ years. When we were first married, I would visit whatever station Larry was assigned to, and they would ask me if I was there to visit my dad. Someone, I think my mother-in-law, suggested that I join the Ladies Auxillary as a way to meet people - but I thought then that those ladies were OLD (oh how vain we are at 17, lol).

Today, I'm watching my two boys, Matt (16 about to be 17), and Streven (15), compete in the 10th Annual Fire Games hosted by Dallas Fire Rescue, as Dallas Fire Rescue Explorers. A month or so ago, they helped with the annual Easter Egg Hunt, hosed the the DFR Ladies Auxillary.

Something occurred to me today, while I was watching the boys and observing the parents and instructors around me. These are my kind of people. There are many different Explorer Posts represented today - approximately 200 kids between 14 and 21. Parents, firemen, wives and girlfriends, other siblings. There's even a CPAP course going on at the same time (future rookies training to be rookies with DFR). And not once have I thought someone was dressed inappropriately, or acting like a floozy, or even thought of anyone as just rude. I've talked to several different people, from all walks of life, and haven't felt that way once.

This is important to me. I've been told that I'm old and bitter, or jealous and bitchy. And I don't think that I am, but when I was told this, I took it to heart because of the circumstances in which it was said and by who said it, and it has caused me to question my entire character.

I'm not old and bitter, or jealous and bitchy - I'm "mature" and outspoken, and I have low tolerance for posers, as my kids would say. Web people try to be something they're not, I tend to get irritable about it. Be who you are - don't try to be something you're not. Say what you mean - because otherwise you're only playing games. This doesn't mean you have to be mean or rude - and I'm learning that by being outspoken about how I feel can and will lead to hurt feelings, because people aren't always ready to be as honest with themselves as I might be.

But when I around "people like me" - people that have the same ideals and who have grown up with others who felt the same - I'm normal. This is good for my spirit.

Life is like a box of ... Socks?

A few weeks ago, I went to Dollar General with my youngest to get him some cheap earbuds. I don't know how they do it, but both boys run through earbuds amazingly fast. While I was there, I bought a plastic bin ($4) to keep unmatched socks in. Everyone has this problem with socks, right? We'll wash clothes, and end up with 6.5 pairs of socks. I don't know how this happens, because we always wear two at a time, but they never make it into the same wash load together. So they end up staying on the couch after the laundry is folded, waiting to be matched in the next load. Except it never fails - not every sock gets matched up. They sit on the couch for weeks at a time (unless we have company over, and they get hidden), in vain. Occasionally, I'll throw them bak in a random load in the hopes that they'll find their mate, but they always return to the sad little pile on the couch. So I got the box, in the hopes it would make matching easier. (or make the pile easier to hide when company comes over...). This morning, while getting dressed, I needed a pair of socks. Rather than look in my drawer,I went to the sox box. (I just made that name up, but I like it!). And after a bit of searching found a matching pair. And it occurred to me that this Sox Box is a metaphor for my life at times. There's always a place to find something that you need. You just have to know where to look, and how to keep it organized so you can find it. We have Sox Box for family and friends - that person you can always go to for a shoulder to lean on. For work - solving a complicated problem or achieving a goal can be found in your "box" of skills/talents. Taking a day to treat yourself is a "Self Box.". And the proverbial box of chocolates has no equal. Where is your Sox Box, and what's in it? When you find you are missing something - look in the box. You never know what you'll find.

Words we shouldn't know how to spell

Mom
Dad
Run
Jump
See Jane Run.
Run Jane, Run.

Those are some of the first words we learn to write.  Eventually we branch out into more difficult words - School.  Mother. Father.  Homework.  You get the drift.  And by the time we're in our 20s we know how to spell more words than we can every use in a single day.  And it's all inside our brain, nesting away until we need them.

I learned a word last year that I wish I'd never heard of.  It started off hiding from us by masking itself inside other big words  Kidney failure.  Liver failure.  Englarged heart.  Cirrhosis.  Congestive heart failure.  Cancer.  But all those were small words when compared to the real one.

Amyloidosis.

Amyloidosis is a disease of the bone marrow/blood cells.  Amyloids are produced in the bone marrow, and is something that everyone has, but most people have the ability to get rid of them normally.  A few people - not the lucky ones - develop a condition in which the amyloids build up in the blood stream and deposit themselves on various organs.  As they build up on the organs, they cause them to fail.  Only a few people are diagnosed with Amyloidosis - maybe 1,200 -1,500 each year.  I suppose those few could consider themselves "lucky" - in that they received a diagnosis.  Most doctors hav never heard the word.  Isn't that special - we know words that highly educated doctors don't know?  Many times, the disease mimics other conditions and the doctors don't diagnose in time.  The big words we learned first we heard for six months before chance dealt us a card and a doctor who randomly ordered a particular test because he happened to attend a conference the week before.

There is no cure for Amyloidosis.  Prognosis is terminal.  The trick is diagnosing it in time so that certain procedures can be taken to reduce the effects and before the affected organs fail completely.  And it turns out that the most effective treatment is also the most dangerous - autologous stem cell transplant.  Another big word or four.

Stem cells are the roots of our bodies.  They contain the blueprints for how how our bodies work.  By harvesting stem cells from a patient, then killing off all the bone marrow where whole blood is produced, and then giving back the stem cells, the hopes are that the stem cells will return to their places and start doing the work they were intended to do, without the bad bone marrow getting in the way.  The bone marrow is removed by a single shot of Melaphan, a posion used for chemotherapy.  It affects the digestive tract as well as the bone marrow.  It causes hair to fall out.  It makes taste buds disappear.

My sister-in-law was diagnosed with Amyloidosis in 2010.  Since then she's undergone "normal" chemotherapy, and most recently a stem cell transplant, in the hopes that the Amyloid production will be halted and her affected organs can start to heal.  It's been a rough ride - she's now experiencing complications and the doctors aren't sure what is going on.  Since the stem cell transplant, her body isn't producing white blood cells, platelets, and other things essential to her well-being like it should.  Those really smart stem cells seem to have encountered a road block of some kind and are having a tough time getting back to where they belong.  I worry about her every day.  I worry just as much for her family, who is pretty much left to sit back and watch and hope that the doctors can "fix it."  All we can do is sit by and watch, and try to encourage her.  It's hard - her spirit is starting to wear down.  Whose wouldn't, after being in the hospital for 20+days, with no end in sight?  We're hoping her numbers go up soon, so that she can at least spend one or two nights in her own bed.  And at the same time, we want her to stay in the hospital so that the doctors are near.  And yet life goes on - we have to continue going to work, and taking care of our own kids, while she's fighting for her life just a few miles away.

All these big words.  Once upon a time, I liked learning new words.  Knowing big words made me feel smarter than the average bear.  Now - they makes me feel helpless.

We love you Dea - keep fighting the good fight!

Musings from Llamaville

A friend reminded me I haven't had an updated post in a while.  I would like to write that all has been quiet, but it's really been a very busy few months.

The llamas started on a new healthy lifestyle, and have lost a total of 27 pounds to date.  And then they fell off the wagon, and have been ignoring the little voices that tell them to start back up again, and so have gained back 2 pounds.  Today it starts again - no more excuses!

We went to a family wedding this weekend.  I say this with all respect to my family and friends in Arkansas...but who would've thought that the nicest, "fanciest" wedding I've ever been to would be in Little Rock, Arkansas?  My youngest cousin got married this weekend in Little Rock, in a gorgeous church (Cathedral of Saint Andrew), and then had a wonderful reception out at Pleasant Valley Country Club.  Dinner, dancing - and good times with family.  I sure wish Camden was closer to the Rock - that 2 hour drive can be quite a trip.  And of course, what is driving with Chelle without getting lost?  I missed the "first" 430, and saw a sign for Shackleford, and thought, well, I know Shackleford, duh.  We ended up taking 30 West to Benton, hanging a left on 35 to Sheridan and eventually found 167 (187?) and made it back to Camden all in one piece.  And only about 10-15 minutes behind Uncle Wayne, who KNEW where he was going.  :)

This will be a long week.  We leave on Wednesday, the 22nd to head back to the Rock.  Protech, Fit Test, testing to watch, friends to cheer on, judging (5 rings!), and compettion.  And the 3rd Annual Party at Laurie's House!  I'm so looking forward to the trip.  It's the most tiring fun I'll have all year (until we go skiing, and while that's fun, it's somehow not nearly as tiring).

PS...wanted to add some pics...this is for Thumper. :D



Tales from Under the 'Hood. Or...what happens when a Prius runs out of gas

Well, last night was interesting.

I will say that the most interesting comment of the night was when my husband told me that I run out of gas more than anyone he's ever met.  And I will state for the record, that it's not my fault.

Cuz, you know.  I'm a girl.  And I truly believe that my tank was siphoned while I was at work.

Now, with that out of the way, here's what happened last night.  And why you should be aware of your surroundings at all times, and NEVER rely on the Dallas County Sherriff's Courtesy Patrol Truck to help you out.  Because apparently they won't.

On the way home from work last night, I was talking to my husband about a friend with a Prius.  Apparently, when it came time to trade it in, he found out the hard way that the Prius is subject to some kind of "battery remediation" charge, which is more than the car is worth.  I haven't delved into this any further than random conversations about it, but it's noteworthy that I was discussing this - when suddenly the dash in my Prius went haywire.

(to add to the weirdness, brother and I were discussing possible alien invasion and elderly abuction that morning...but that will be a different post).

Back to the topic - the dash went haywire.  And it felt like I was losing power, which it turns out was what had happened.  I made it up onto I-45, and exited Martin Luther King Blvd., hoping to find a gas station.  But as I crossed the service road to turn right, the car lost all power.  And I do mean - ALL power.  No lights, no nothing.

And so I suddenly found myself in the position of - That Random Person on the Freeway Whose Car Had Died and was Making No Effort to Move Out Of the Way.  I don't like that person - they're annoying.  I have had many a conversation about how they're just too lazy to try and move, and how miserable they are making traffic.

Karma hurts, let me tell you.

Now to be fair (and try and shuffle more blame onto someone else) - where the car died was not exactly the best place for me to be...by myself, in high heels and a business suit...alone.  I could see the gas station - it wasn't a block away, on my side of the street even.  But I couldn't get to it.  I couldn't tell if the car was in park or neutral, and there was too much traffic to make a serious effort for pushing it.  And there wasn't anyone to ask, because I didn't have any cash on me, nor did I feel safe doing so.

And then appeared what I thought was my Knight in Shining Armour - the Dallas County Sherriff's Courtesy Patrol truck.  Let me tell you - the black and white of that truck never looked so wonderful.  But as I sat there, trying to smile at him, and wave others by, while my hazard lights were blinking merrily away...he drove off.  He sat there at the light for a few minutes, chatting with a homeless person on the side of the street, and he did make eye contact with me - and then off he drove, into the sunset.  Without a single word or offer of assistance.

Well, okaaay then.  I'm on my own.  Just for grins, I tried to turn the car back on - and it worked.  So I was able to limp over to the gas station.  When I got out, I was immediately confronted by someone wanting to pump the gas for me.  (Again, not the best place in the world to be as a woman, alone, in high heels).  And I will confess - one of my random thoughts at this moment was that the plastic kamas - IN THE TRUNK - weren't going to be helpful if I needed them.  But one of my heels might have been...and I was working out how quickly I could get one off if I needed to, let me tell you.

I had to go inside to prepay for the gas, and was once again confronted by someone inside, asking how I was doing.  And THIS is where I think that whatever training I've had up to this point helped - I looked him right in the eye and told him I was fine, and asked how HE was doing - and he grinned, said fine, and walked off.  And after that, I was left alone.  Until I went back outside and had to deal with Mr. I Want to Pump Your Gas for Any Change You Have.

The moral of the story has several important points to remember...

• Be aware of your surroundings and be confident.  Outside or inside was no time for me to turn into "ohmygosh I'm in the hood and I'm going to get mugged please don't look at me/talk to me" girl.  I think if I had taken that position, it's possible that I would've been harrassed more than I was, which was very minimal, to be truthful.

• Always have something around you that can be used for self-defense.  It might have been my purse, or it might have been a heel.  Even if you're a ninja, don't rely on the plastic weapons that you've stored in the trunk.  Mr. Bad Guy is not going to wait patiently while you get them, and then let you whack on him for a bit while you shout "Get Back, Leave Me Alone, I'm a Karate Kid!"  That might actually bring about more issues that you ever dreamed of.

• Even a Prius can run out of gas, and at 60 mpg, it will suck the life out of that hybrid in about ...a tenth of a mile.  Thank heaven for bridges that have downward sloping exist ramps.  

• When you find yourself out of gas, in the 'hood, 30 miles from your husband, at 7pm...don't mistake his tone - he's not really mad at you, he's worried.  And if you continue to ask him "Well, what do I doooo honey?" - it's not going to get much better over the phone.  Especially if you get a little panicked about it - because he can't do anything right then.  Men don't like to feel helpless.  Especially when you put them in that position because you didn't check the gas level before you left the office.  So - always check your gas level when you first get into the car.  It may keep you from having to rely on the Dallas County Sherriff's Courtesy Patrol - which you shouldn't.