A Day For All Kinds Of Love

As we approach the Hallmark created holiday of Valentine’s Day, I have been thinking. I am single again this year, like always, so I may not have a romantic valentine, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have lots of love to celebrate. In my opinion Valentine’s Day has always been about showing those we love how much we care for them, and we have just lost sight and narrowed that view point down to just romantic love.

Growing up, my parents always gave each of us kids something on Valentine’s Day. Some of my favorites are my teddy bear that says you are my sunshine on it. My mom calls me Sunshine because she used to sing the song to me when I was little. I have always loved the song, so the nickname stuck. My mom and dad reminded us every year that love doesn’t just mean romantic partners. Love is a connection between people that truly care for each other.

Ever since one of my best friends has had her kids, I have started giving them valentines as well. This year I gave them little stuffed animals. A got a kitty, due to her love for them, and W got a dino that he has dubbed Sparkles due to the gold spikes on the back. I have gotten lots of pictures ever since I dropped the stuffies off with the kids, of them hugging them and playing. W has become pretty attached to his dino, and I am pretty thrilled that I could provide him with something he holds so dear.

When I gave the stuffies to the kids, I reminded them that Valentine’s Day is meant to celebrate all kinds of love. Family love, sibling love, friendship love, as well as romantic love, to name a few. As we approach and begin to celebrate the day of love, it is not only important to remind ourselves that it is about all kinds of love, but we should also show those we care about how much they matter to us more than just once a year.

Here’s to showing those we love how much they mean to us.

A Super Duper Kanine

Cooper was a year and a half years old when we adopted him from the local humane society. He is a blue tick coon hound mix. That means he is black and white. The coon hound part of him becomes very apparent whenever he decides to use his voice. Baying instead of the normal barking that I have grown used to having grown up with plenty of dogs around.

Coop had a bit of a rough start to life. When we rescued him, you could see all his bones. The humane society had put twenty pounds on him already and he was still so thin. We got right to work making sure he knew he never had to fight for his next meal or worry about when he would be fed again. His story from before coming home is a bit of an unknown thing. We know he came from Texas, and was so skinny, but other than that, there is just a big question mark. So I can’t say that anyone ever meant him harm, and I would like to think that he had a loving home that just couldn’t care for him and his brother. His brother was adopted out to a wonderful family around two weeks before Cooper joined our family.

River has become like a brother to him. That relationship was pretty quickly formed. I am guessing because Cooper was used to that dynamic. River is pretty much the same size as Cooper and they love to run around the backyard at top speed. There are patches of dirt that will never grow grass again due to the boys using those sections as racetrack. Cooper looks so graceful when he is running across the yard. He stretches out and can gain momentum with ease. It is a stark contrast to the goofy run he does when one of us humans call his name and he is happy to see us. If you remember the sort of run that Jack Sparrow did in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, then you have a pretty good idea.

It took about three days before he felt confident enough to use his voice. I was actually kind of startled when he first barked at River during a play session. Little steps along the way have shown his comfort level and confidence rising. His silly run, being so proud of himself when he knows what to do for a command, and giving lots of kisses, have been some of my favorite milestones that have come with nurturing Cooper. He really has come out of his shell, and shown us just how goofy and loving he really is.

These days, I am lucky enough to be one of his favorite people. Whenever I am playing games in the living room, he will hop up on my lap and demand hugs. This has lovingly become referred to as a Cooper Break. I must pause my game and snuggle with the boy for a bit. He will eventually get down from my lap and I may resume my game. Being reminded to take time to pause and enjoy the little things like hugs from a giant baby like Cooper, is one of the reasons that I am forever grateful to have him.

I saw on Facebook once, a picture of a dog looking out the window while laying on the window’s bench seat. They were mostly in shadow, because the sun was setting outside. The words on the picture read, “Sometimes I like to look over at my dog, and watch them enjoy the life I have given them.” I couldn’t help but think of Cooper and how much his life has changed since coming home. He is probably chewing on a toy while laying in the giant bean bag chair in our living room right now. He will never have any more worries in life. Just love.

Plant Babies

I am pretty proud to say that I have managed to keep a pineapple plant alive for ten whole months! Obviously I am the type of person that has to name her plants, so I have named her Penelope. I also have a snake plant named Genevieve. The snake plant came with a paper steak stuck in the pot that made it sound like she had already been named, so I just went with it. Penny and Gen have two very different set of needs, but they both live in my bedroom. I have had to create some contrast to try and give them both what they need to thrive.

Penny sits on top of a white cube cabinet near one of the windows. I have placed bamboo skewers around the main body of the plant, with cotton yarn to provide extra structure. Pineapples can be heavy fruit, so the skewers have helped the entire plant stand up straight. I also have a grow light shining on her. Since they are used to tropical environments, pineapples require quite a bit of sunshine. I live in Wisconsin, where it is currently cold and dreary looking outside. So the grow light helps me provide the much needed vitamin D that helps Penny stay strong.

Gen lives across the room, on top of a much shorter bookshelf. Snake plants prefer indirect sunlight. By being across the room from the two windows in my bedroom, Gen will not be scorched by any harsh rays that may manage to sneak in my windows. I personally think she likes the placement because the leaves are growing taller.

Due to a certain predator that lives in my room as well, AKA Erza the cat, I have chosen the spots for my plants to live very carefully. They are on top of furniture that Erza can’t access. She is very curious about the plants, obviously, but I have done my best to make sure that she knows that they are not chew toys, or something to be attacked. Thankfully, she has gotten the message and the plants don’t have to fear the micro panther. (Knock on wood!)

I have taken steps to try and track when I water the plants as well. A calendar on the wall features little water droplets that I have drawn on with blue marker, on the days that I have given them water. I don’t want to drown them, so I try and remember to check the soil beforehand, to see if they actually need it.

I get emotionally attached to these plants. I get excited when I see signs that they are healthy and growing. When one of them dies, I get sad for a little while. This attachment might be aided by the fact that I have taken to putting large googly eyes on the pot of the plant. That started mostly because it amuses me. It turned into something silly that made me smile for a moment when I saw it, and there needs to be more things like that in the world. Personally, I will always take pride in my plant babies and how well they are doing. I will enjoy them while they are around and do my best to take care of them.

Ultimately they bring me joy, and I find worth in the simple things that manage to accomplish making me smile. I hope you can find a small thing that makes you smile today.

Sleepless Nights

As someone who has chronic pain, I am pretty used to it waking me up in the middle of the night and poking at my nerves enough that there is no use in going back to sleep at that point. So I have had the “pleasure” of seeing what the world is like when the majority of the people around me are sleeping.

Obviously I have the mornings where I am annoyed by the fact that I am awake, we all do even if we wake up at a much more reasonable time. However, I do enjoy the quiet. There is no one around to bother me, other than the cats, while I write or draw. My ADHD feels quieter when there is no one else around to create the distractions that have become so easily available.

I try my best to not make too much noise myself. Since there are other people in my household and they are still trying to sleep, I don’t want my circumstances to affect them in any manner. So while almost silent activities are my only form of entertainment, the modern technology of my incredible headphones certainly come in handy. Most mornings though, I don’t use them.

Like I previously stated, I tend to work on my writing while the world around me sleeps. There is something about the stillness of the morning that makes the words come easier. I do have writer’s block occasionally, but while the outside noise is muted, I have less in the way of the ideas that end up creating things. Several passages in my book, Elementals: Spark, were at least inspired by, if not directly written during, the time when I am awake all by myself.

Later today, I will take a nap, and cross my fingers that I can get some of the missing energy back. For now though, I sit in the living room, waiting for the world to wake up and say good morning.

An Extrovert and An Introvert

You might have heard of the idea that the way an introvert makes friends is to be adopted by an extrovert and then become friends with their group of people. I certainly have had moments where I felt like I was along for the ride. As an introvert, I must spend time by myself, or even with a few close people, to recharge my “Extrovert Battery”. Otherwise, I am not very pleasant to be around in a social environment.

Some may not be aware that our furry companions also share these tendencies. My brother’s cat, Gobi, is very shy and it takes some time for him to warm up to company and make his way down the stairs to socialize. I would classify him as an introvert without any hesitation. Erza on the other hand, is an extrovert through and through. She wants to say hello to everyone, give them affection, and then receive some in return.

On Christmas Eve, when my Mom’s side of the family gathered at my home to celebrate, Erza started to make her rounds. She set up camp on a dinning room chair and said hello to everyone as they passed by. Once we started to move the furniture to make the table big enough for the whole family to sit around, Erza took that opportunity to try her best to steal a seat at the dinner table. As people started to find their chair, Erza was shuffled around until she ended up sitting next to me. My cousin, the last one to sit down, pulled out his chair and found Erza staring up at him as if to inform him that that seat was already taken. I couldn’t help but giggle a little at her antics as I picked her up and placed her on the couch to allow room for my cousin to join the rest of the humans at the table.

Due to her very obvious social nature, I have been having moments of laughter. This introvert adopted an extrovert. Since I am her link to the outside world, I will have to try and be more social, just to satisfy her social needs. Maintaining her social calendar is just one more duty to add to the list of things I must do as a Cat Mom.

Writer’s Block: Shake It Out

Being a writer is never a straight forward process. It requires creativity and inspiration. When I write, I have music playing, but it can’t have lyrics because then my mind will attach to those words and not the words on my page. It also can’t be too loud, or I get a bit overwhelmed by the noise.

Music is one thing that helps when I have writer’s block. I will be listening to music in the car while I drive, and scenes that I want to put in my book will pop up in my mind. Usually they are related to the song that I have playing but I try and use those ideas when they actually fit the flow of the story. Can’t just throw something in because I thought of it, it has to mesh with the rest of the plot line.

I also will put on music when I am really blocked. Stepping away from my keyboard, I will dance for a little bit. Nothing too crazy, but enough to shake up my body and the moment. Focusing on dancing and the music helps me feel a bit more energized. It might even spark emotions that I want to convey through my characters. The feeling of the music becomes a sound track that helps me get the creativity flowing again.

Another tactic is a change of scenery. For a while I was writing with a tower computer. I would sit at my desk and work on my book. Often this led to me having a hard time sitting still. I would swish back and forth in my chair, tap my finger on the desk, and stare off into space trying to think of something that was good enough to capture my attention again, to write about, to continue the story. Now that I have a laptop again, I can be found in multiple spaces around the house, working in a setting that just feels right for the day. I will be in my room, with the door closed, when I feel the need for space, or I will set up camp in one of the living room chairs when I want to feel like I am still part of the tempo of the house.

My pets are also a wonderful distraction. They have no preconceived right or wrong ideas of how to act, so having them around, and playing with them, will help me find a new angle to see things from. They make me laugh and pull me close when they want a hug. Sometimes all I need is to curl up with one of them for a moment and take a deep breath. I am forever grateful for them.

Writing a book takes patience, something I am still working on improving. Funny thing is, I tend to have more of that virtue when the creativity is flowing.

626 Day

Today is June 26th, also known as 626 day. Stitch, also known as Experiment 626, is celebrated today. The whole idea of this strange alien creature could find a family and a home is very heart warming. Stitch is just one of my favorite characters. Growing up I was very much a Disney child. I watched those movies over and over, and even into my adult years, I still had to see the Disney original movies.

The varied stories that unfolded before my eyes, mesmerized me. Mulan learning to fight in the army to protect her father and family. Hercules fighting for the path in life he wanted, and being willing to throw it all away to save the woman he loved. Pocahontas fighting for a Romeo and Juliet kind of love because she wasn’t afraid to dive into the deep end of another culture. These ideals are the ones that I held on to.

I obviously watched the princess movies as well, and they do hold a special place in my heart. Thankfully though, I have incredible women role models in my life that have taught me to be strong for myself and not depend on a love interest for validation. The songs from The Little Mermaid will forever be part of my playlists. As will several of the other soundtracks. I also will hold the princess movies close because of the memories that are attached to them.

Stitch and all the other Disney character are special to quite a few of us and the fact that we have days like 626 Day to come together and celebrate them and the impact that they have had on our lives is really special in my opinion. These characters reached across cultures, continents, and language barriers to create a community. That is pretty magical if you ask me.

Puppy Play Time

This last weekend my grandparent went out of town overnight. They spent two nights away, and that meant that someone would need to be with their dog, a lovely springer spaniel named Ruby, for those two days. Since we always help family, I volunteered to be the Ruby minder.

Ruby absolutely adores coming over to my house to play with our dogs. River and Cooper are about the same size as her, with only Maggie, who is the smallest of the three that live with me and my family, occasionally getting lost in the shuffle. Not to worry though, Maggie loves her size and has used it to her advantage plenty of times.

Ruby has always been a solo dog, unless she is over for what we have dubbed Puppy Play Dates. Not too long ago, when my grandparents were over for dinner, we let the dogs out into our fenced in back yard, and started to hear a commotion. We moved from the patio by our back door, into the yard more, to get a better look at what was going on with the dogs. They ran past us and continued to wrestle. Tails were wagging for all four. My Grandpa, better known as Papa to us grandkids, couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

To add a little more information, Ruby is a bit older than my dogs. She was a bit of a grouch to begin with in their relationship between the dogs. The fact that she was out in the yard, playing with the other dogs was a very happy sight, but also a bit of a surprise.

This last weekend, Ruby spent most of the time at my house, playing like that with her puppy pals. She would be beyond tired, despite the naps that she also took during the day, and would be very ready for dinner by the time it rolled around. I would pack her up in the car, and with my over night bag, drive back to my grandparents’ house for the night. Ruby certainly appreciated being in her own home for bedtime.

I missed my own bed, but I knew that Ruby would feel much better being home overnight. Then in the mornings, I packed up my things, and Miss Ruby-doo, a much loved nickname for a much loved dog, and would head back to my house so she could have more puppy play time. This was mostly to distract her from missing my grandparents. Ruby loves them beyond words, and when she is home and they are away she misses them terribly.

A few signs I caught just this weekend were things like her staring out the window at the places they would normally park their car and whining. She also would hop up into my Grandma’s recliner and pout. I would have to comfort her and tell her that they would be home soon just to get her back in a better mood. (To those who think I am giving her more personality than she has, trust me, you must have never owned a furry pet. They have much more in those little minds than you may think.)

You could truly see the love from Ruby when my grandparents pulled up in my drive way to pick her up and take her home. She was out the door like a shot the moment I opened it. Her tail was wagging so fast it was a blur. She couldn’t contain her excitement, and was practically vibrating with happiness when she was finally able to see her people again.

Never worry Papa and Grandma! Ruby-Doo is always welcome for a puppy play date here.

Momentous Moments

Thanksgiving was this past Thursday. Like most years I spent it with a large group of my family and lots of good food. My family certainly knows how to cook. Side dishes included green bean casserole, home made baked beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, and fresh home made buns, to name a few. We certainly don’t go hungry on holidays.

In the spirit of the holiday, I started to really think about what I have to be thankful for this year. I am incredibly grateful for my loving family and friends. I am always thankful for the good food and laughter that fills the day. And it may make me a crazy cat lady, but I will always treasure the fact that I have Erza.

This year one of the main family members was absent due to the fact that she was in early labor. My cousin welcomed a beautiful baby boy over the weekend and we couldn’t be more thrilled as a family. The new addition is the first of his generation, the first of the great grand kids for my Mom’s parents. (Another thing to be thankful for: my grandparents are still around to love on the new baby.)

With new beginnings come reflections, and I have been looking at my own life. I am certainly not were I thought I would be at 27 years old. Ten year old me thought I would be this incredible published author by now and that I would be married with maybe a kid or two. None of those things have happened yet, but I refuse to talk down about it. Just like choosing to be thankful for the good in your life, instead of focusing on the bad, I am choosing to use positive self talk.

When I finished college, a couple of my female family members continued to remind me to choose the words I use carefully. I earned my degree, instead of I have a degree. In this light, I am choosing to say when I am published, and when I find the right person to share life with, I am sure I will look back at today as the simpler times.

Overall, I am thinking about the moments that become so important to us and those we love that we hold them close to our hearts and protect them. I certainly count hearing about the new baby as one of those moments. Holidays with my family will always be high in the ranking of memories that I treasure.

Here’s to many more magical moments that turn into treasured memories!

Halloween Memories

Yesterday was Halloween. I absolutely adore Halloween, but have noticed a change as I have gotten older. Traditions and routines have changed with the passing years and I can’t decide how I feel about it.

Some of the favorite memories were the family time. Trick or treating involved all the grand kids getting ready in their costumes, then posing for a picture out on the front step with the pumpkins we had carved for the year. We would set off into the neighborhood and knock on door after door. Somehow the miles we ended up walking didn’t even phase our young bodies, we just kept moving if it meant more candy to add to our bags.

Obviously pumpkin carving is a Halloween staple. One that my family honored every year, including this one. Yesterday I spent two hours elbow deep in pumpkin guts trying to clean out the large cavern inside to allow me to be able to cut a super cute face on one side. I went for a traditional Jacko lantern face this year, with the one tooth on each side of the mouth. In the past I have attempted many of the fancy designs, and several even turned out great. There is something about the traditional face that keeps brining me back to it though.

I no longer get super dressed up, or go out to a party like I did as a kid. But I refuse to let go of a few traditions. I will try my best each year to carve a pumpkin, and get at least a few sweet treats to eat. And who knows, maybe if I have kids, they will get to enjoy all the traditions that I loved as a kid. A full circle moment would really make my heart happy.

Connections Spanning Species

Lately I have been thinking about how animals pick their person. (As I type this Erza is making herself comfy laying against my side, even across my right arm a bit.)

Erza picked me as her person, her favorite. I am very honored that she chose me and that feeling has never wavered. The moment I met her and picked her up for the first time, at five months old, she instantly started purring and didn’t want to be put down. She knew something then. She must have had a feeling about me and knew that I would take care of her. I could be trusted to look after her and give her the life she deserves.

Last night I made the joke that I didn’t think Erza would be my cat if I wasn’t the one who fed her every meal. My mom rolled her eyes at this notion and pointed out several signs that I failed to see, signs that Erza really thinks of me as her person.

Every time I close my bedroom door, I have to be prepared for the possibility of Erza pawing/clawing at the other side of the door trying to get in and be with me. She is one smart cat. (My parents have taken to referring to her as the Mensa cat.) Over time she has watched and learned that the shiny thing attached to the wood, if turned, opened the door and allowed access to the other side. So Erza has taken to reaching up to her full height and putting one paw on either side of the door knob and trying her hardest to turn it herself. I am convinced that if I had a lever handle on my door, she would be constantly opening it.

Another sign that my Mom pointed out, was that Erza likes to take naps with me. If I fall asleep during the day and don’t want a furry heater with me, I have to kick her out of my room and close the door. Otherwise Erza will curl up between my legs and fall asleep with me. She softly purrs while falling asleep. If I shift in my sleep, I have woken to find her position moved as well, just enough so that she is still touching some part of me in her sleep, like it comforts her. (She has currently progressed to sleeping, and purring, while laying on my arm. Thankfully I have use of my hand still. :D)

I think my favorite connection sign though has to be when she plays with me. Her top two toys and springs and those craft pom poms. Again, because she is so smart, she learned that if she brings me the toy, I will throw it for her and we can play together. I melt when she brings me one of her toys and places it beside me. Then she will wait for me to throw it for her and chances are pretty high she will start to play fetch with me. She has only ever really played like this with me.

Last but not least, is that she gives me high fives on command. I wanted to try out the idea that cats can learn tricks like dogs, so I got a clicker and started working with Erza. I taught her the command “Give me paw” and she will tap my hand with her paw when asked, especially if there are treats involved. I am the only one she will give high fives to. Several other have tried the command, at my request because I wanted to show off, and she refused until I asked.

Love is a connection between two souls. Erza is a light to me on some of my harder days. I will forever be honored to be the one she picked to be her person. If you own a pet, or have spent enough time with animals, you know they pick you just as much as you pick them.

Back to School and the Basics

As we start to send the youngest amongst us back to the classrooms, I have been thinking about my time in the k-12 grades. I grew up during a very interesting time to be in school. Tech was taking off, computers becoming something we could fit in our pockets and use every day.

Going to the computer lab was something that everyone looked forward to when I was in elementary school. We would play games to learn basic skills like typing and math. My favorite though had to be the Oregon Trail games. Not sure if I ever got my little group of people to the end of the trail though. If I remember correctly, I managed to kill off my entire group one way or another every time.

Then there were the days were a teacher would wheel in that giant tv on a cart. We all would get so excited because that meant that we would be watching something, more than likely instead of an actual lesson. The lights would be turned off and the teacher would have us move our chairs to make sure we could all see the screen. Due to the size, we would sometimes have to move the desks out of the way to get closer to the screen. Even if we were given a worksheet to fill out while watching, it was the preferred method of learning compared to the books.

By the time I made it to middle school, most classrooms had projectors that attached to the teacher’s computers. They could play videos or show power points much easier. Books were still relied on though. It was still the easiest way to get the required information into our hands and allowed us to have something to work from at home. Computers at home were still the family computer. I would ask my parents for permission to use their computers to do homework or play games on.

Things like the overhead projector, where the teacher would use these transparent plastic sheets to show on a larger scale what they were talking about, were starting to be phased out. It was easier and more cost effective, to just use the classroom computer to provide visuals. Some teachers would even print out their power point slides to make notes easier for students. All we had to do was annotate the provided information.

High school was a fast paced change. Computer classes, on the basics of their functions and their programs like the Microsoft office set, were required to graduate. They were starting to push for us to be ready to work in the 21st century. I even got to use tech for my art classes. Between reference images, printing my written story drafts for a collage, and a beginner graphic design class, I was exploring how to apply computers to every facet of my learning.

My senior year is when they did the trial of giving laptops/Chromebooks to the freshman class. The following year they expected to provide them to all students in the high school. Since I was a senior, that wasn’t going to happen for me. I still had plenty of access to computers at home, plus my own smart phone, so I certainly wasn’t disconnected from the world and unable to complete my assignments. By that point, I was even starting to turn in some work just online to certain teachers. Most still preferred a paper copy though.

College was a major step forward. It is pretty much a requirement to have a personal laptop/computer these days even outside the classroom. Inside the classroom though, it is very needed. All teachers have online connections to their students. Email has become both helpful and a bother. Students can ask questions outside of office hours, but some might even think that teachers are required to answer them in the space of a few minutes even in the dead of night. (The student is up at three am working on homework for your class. Why aren’t you awake to answer any questions they might have about it right then?)

I carried my own laptop with me too and from classes. When I had the time, I would find a table or comfy chair, possibly just a spot on the floor out of the way, and take out my laptop to work on homework or surf the internet. As a writer, I would even take spare time and work on whatever story had been bouncing around in my head that day. Pretty much wherever you looked on campus, several students would have their laptop out and headphones on. On campus computer labs still saw plenty of use as well because they would have programs that our personal devices didn’t. That way we wouldn’t have to purchase them on our own.

Laptops became one of the go to ways to take notes in classes as well. Many students could type much faster than they could write by hand so they chose to keep word documents that served as their notes from each class. Maybe it says something about me that I preferred to use my notebook and colorful pens, other than loving the fact that I had an excuse to buy the large set of colored pens that held so many colors, but I only ended up using my laptop to really take notes in one class. I chose and Anthropology class as one of my gen eds and made several friends in that class. Together we created a word document on Google Docs, and took notes as a group. That way each of us could ask questions and make sure everything was understood.

Through my years in school, I obviously learned a lot. I do count myself lucky to have grown up with these changes in tech though. Having the changes happen as I went through school, made it easier to learn and adapt to having more and more of the world at my finger tips. I still remember a time were leaving school, or work meant that no one could contact you about it and you received some peace and quiet. Being allowed time to turn off the devices and just be unreachable is healthy for the soul.

Birthday Traditions!

Today my younger sister turns 23 years old. (I kind of love that she was born in the year 2000 because it makes it pretty easy to keep track of how old she is.) This morning, as a family, we woke her up and gave her the presents from us. Being woken up to get gifts from Mom and Dad started when we were kids and we would have to get up for school pretty early anyways so it made the day’s start much brighter. You start the day feeling spoiled already.

Traditions like that make birthdays special. Each family has their own set, and they may even over lap. I may be biased, but I think my family has found just the right balance to make the birthday person feel celebrated and loved, without going overboard.

Obviously we start the actual day of our birthday with the gifts from immediate family. Often our furry family members will also get involved and give us lots of love in the form of snuggles and kisses. Usually this is followed with getting up and ready for the day. My older brother and I have birthday’s during the school year that would require us to be in class that day. I actually enjoyed, for the most part, having school on my birthday because that meant I could see my friends and celebrate with them. (In college my birthday would fall on one of the first few days back from spring break, so that honestly annoyed me a bit.) My sister gets a lazy morning on her birthday because she is a summer baby.

Most of the celebration comes around dinner time. Once we all make it home for the day, dinner is started. The meal is chosen by the birthday person, and so is dessert. Meals that we don’t normally have in the main rotation, things that take some time to make, are usually chosen. For several years in a row, my brother chose lasagna for his meal. Mine changes depending on my mood when I am asked what I would like. If I remember correctly, this last birthday featured pancakes with strawberries on top.

Dinner is even more of a big deal when it comes to the big family meal. The extended family on my mom’s side will gather, usually the weekend before or after the actual birthday, and we will cook a big meal that was again chosen by the birthday person. I have had homemade beef and broccoli stir fry for my family meal for several years now. (Due to an MSG allergy, I am grateful that my family goes the extra mile to make my meal so that I can enjoy it without worry.) If there is one thing my family can do well, it is cook, so these meals are always incredible and hit that craving spot.

Dessert is ever changing. My brother and I will opt for cheesecake each year. It works out well because or birthdays are almost to the day six months apart, so once I am really craving it again, it is time for us to have it again. Most of my family will have a traditional birthday cake, with the flavor tailored to them. For my sister, that would be a chocolate cake that happens to be from a family recipe. Due to the rich nature of this cake she will put her slice in a bowl and then pour milk on it. The cake breaks apart and she really savors each bite. On the other end of the spectrum, my Grandma (Mom’s Mom) loves to have lemon cake for her birthday.

Gifts from the extended family are given at the big family meal. Even if money is tight, they try to give at least something small to acknowledge the day and the person we are celebrating. There is never a greedy atmosphere. We try to find ways to celebrate that don’t revolve around gifts and things. The birthday person will feel the love and go to bed happy that night anyway.

Here is to my sister,

Today you turn 23! That is a big accomplishment. I couldn’t be prouder of how you have handled every challenge that life has thrown at you. Each day you try so hard to not let anything stand in the way of getting what you want out of life and I am amazed by your resilience. Each year I think back to being in the hospital and wearing those stickers that the nurses gave to our brother and me. (Horrible things really! They didn’t make sense! In the shape of a award ribbon but upside down?) I couldn’t wait to meet you.

Through the years we have had our fights but we always found a way to come back to each other. I hold the memories of us laughing so hard that we couldn’t breathe, but only making it harder by adding something on that made us laugh even more because it made our tangent even funnier. Moments where we were able to communicate across rooms without even saying a word to each other, just a look. I will forever treasure that connection with you.

Here is to year 23! I hope it is filled with good food, good memories, and certainly good people. Wishing you a very Happy Birthday Mon Chou Chou!

<3 Momo

Yarn Crafting

This past week I learned how to crochet. My mom sat down with me and showed me the basic double stitch and I got started on a scarf. Several mistakes were made, and I have had to start over, and pull stitches out to fix the fact that I missed a loop earlier in the project. Overall though, I have found it to be an interesting challenge.

Growing up my grandma tried to teach me to crochet and it never stuck. I could create several very long chains but never got beyond that skill. Patience is not my strong suit and because of that, I would give up before really giving it a shot. At the time my ADHD was undiagnosed, so I was unaware of the reason why I didn’t have a very long attention span for things that frustrated me. Crocheting was just challenging enough at the time that I just gave up and tried other crafts.

When my mom sat down with me, she showed me one stitch, which happened to be the double stitch, and then let me move at my own pace. I know that I have other options for stiches, but at the time she only gave me the one. (Fun fact: When my mom taught my sister, she showed her the single stitch. When I asked why she showed me the double instead, she just said that it was the one that came to mind when she sat down with me.)

Almost every day I have sat down with my scarf project and completed a row or two. It has been nice to have something to do with my hands while I watch tv or listen to music. The yarn has become a fidget to keep my hands busy that isn’t electronic. Normally I would be scrolling through things on my phone while watching YouTube or streaming a tv show. Learning to at least do a simple stitch of crotchet has given me something else to keep that over active brain of mine busy, so I can simply enjoy being in the moment.

With all the benefits that I have found, I am still not positive that this new hobby will stick. Only time will tell…

Getting My Hands Dirty

Growing up I always loved going to green houses. My maternal Grandmother would tell me the names of the majority of the plants that we crossed by and would usually let me help pick out which bunch from the lot we would take home with us. Yearly trips to our local green houses has become a tradition. One that I still enjoy very much.

As I grew up I started to learn more about each type of plant and what conditions it would need to flourish. Now I have two plants that live in my room. They even have names. Apollo and Hephaestus. Apollo is a pathos plant, while Hephaestus is a small aloe. The names just made sense to me in a silly way. That same silly vibe might also be why I glued large googly eyes to the front of each of their pots. The green plant life that comes out of the pot has become hair for my silly little creatures.

Earlier this summer, when we were setting up our garden for the coming season, my grandma mentioned that our actions would have probably made her father very happy. There was three generations with their hands in the dirt and working with the very thing he had loved, plants. When my grandma was a little girl Grandpa Tom owned a greenhouse. He raised plants to sell and even grew produce for the local stores to sell in the summer time. Some of his time was spent out in the woods as a Naturalist working in the state park near his home. Nature and plants meant a great deal to him.

I never got to meet my Great Grandpa Tom, sadly. Stories that I have heard make me wish sometimes that I had been able to get to know him and learn about plants from him. He sounds like a very gentle soul that loved his girls and the natural world. So when I can get my hands in the dirt and work with plants I feel a connection to him and all that he loved.

Tonight I was watering the plants that my family has in our back yard and I couldn’t help but smile. Something as simple as watering the plants, tending to them, made me feel a profound connection. I would like to think that Grandpa Tom was looking down on me as I tended to the vegetables and feeling a sense of pride that his love for nature and all that it can produce has been handed down through the generations.

Creating natural beauty by working with dirt has always been something that I have enjoyed. I guess it is just an added bonus that it fosters a connection through many generations. Planting seeds and growing new life, bringing beauty to my little section of the world, will always make me smile.

Chalkfest: 2023

Today I went to see all the incredible artists at Chalkfest with my friend B. For those of you who have never heard of this festival, let me explain. The local college, that I also graduated from, University of Wisconsin: Eau Claire hosts a day long event that invites local artists to come and decorate a square of the sidewalk along the central area of the academic buildings on campus. Each artist pays a small fee and they get several hours to create these incredible works of art. They use art chalks to cover the pavement in vibrant hues that quite a bit of the community comes to see.

Chalkfest has become a family event, with area set aside for the kids under twelve to also get involved in sharing their creative spirits. Food stands were also up and running, several local favorites setting up booths. A crowd favorite was the cotton candy booth that was spinning the sugar fresh for each order. Of course the BluGolds (UWEC Mascot/Student name) had to get in on the action and set up several stands to serve up grilled food and fresh coffee. (Although the heat of the day made the coffee stand a lonely place to be.)

B. and I did two laps of the art while it was in the process of being created. On the second one I broke out my camera and took several photos of my favorite works. The detail and vibrant colors that the artist were able to create blew my mind and I was so glad I remembered to bring my DSLR so I could capture even just a bit of their beauty. (Hopefully I can get those photos up on my portfolio soon! Please check back) Also on the second lap B. was enjoying a small cupcake sized cheesecake from one of the food vendors. She said that the raspberry lemon flavor was very refreshing and helped cool her down.

Back when I would return to campus each fall, I would make guesses in my head about which square would last the longest. The colors are so rich that many of the works of art will only slightly fade with each rain instead of washing completely away like the sidewalk hopscotch we used to draw as kids. Since this was my first time seeing the art the day it was created, I welcomed the different perspective on something that I hold fond memories of from back in college.

B. and I finished out our adventure with a stop at Culver’s for lunch and a nice long chat. I am still thrilled that she decided to move back to the area after getting her advanced degree in Minnesota. My day was filled with warm sun, laughter, good music, and great food. The best part of going to see such incredible art, was sharing it with B. and getting her take on each one. Discussing art has always been fun form me, so I am happy to have another person to share it with. Thank you B. for a lovely day!

Barbie: The Woman, The Myth, The Legend

Friday, July 21st, I joined my Aunt (mom’s sister) and her family for a birthday trip to the movie theater. We saw the Barbie Movie. As someone who grew up playing with various Barbie dolls, I really enjoyed the movie. There was more depth than I thought there would be. Also the storyline resonated with me. Now, I refuse to provide too many spoilers, so please watch it yourself if you really are interested.

Like I previously stated, I grew up playing with Barbies. I only had my older brother around at family functions until my little sister was born five years after me. Until she was born I didn’t really play that many girly games, but I was all for it by the time she arrived. Thus started my Barbie phase.

Back in the early 2000s, there were not many options to get extra clothes for these dolls, so often we would be playing with very naked toys. My sister created clothes for them out of various colors of duct tape. Honestly it was a decent solution, the dresses never got lost because you could never undress the dolls again. She definitely deserves points for creativity and getting the job done. (Side note: my grandma hated that we had naked dolls, so we would hide them when she came to visit.)

As we would play, our dolls would take damage in the conventional way, but they also would be broken other ways. My family owned a large black lab, named Bella, who developed a keen sense for doll plastics. It became her favorite thing to chew on. So several of our Barbies became amputees and we would play with them even after they began missing limbs. This created another “game” of sorts. Hide the dolls after you were done playing with them so Bella wouldn’t find them and eat a limb off. Finding spots that our Barbies could live in between play sessions that were both safe from Bella, and hidden from my grandma, was a difficult task all on its own. Not sure if this was typical play with other children, but I would throw my dolls down the stairs because they could fly in my imaginary world. My dad is a big superhero fan, so I guess I get it from him.

These dolls went through the wringer at my hands. Barbies were subjected to the same wear and tear that my other childhood toys dealt with. Hair was cut off and such to make them truly a child’s toy. Looking back now, I can’t help but smile at the memories that Barbie helped me create. I didn’t care about the beauty standards she has become the beacon for. I just wanted a person shaped doll, so I could live out my imaginary stories through them. Maybe Barbie helped me on my path to be a writer and story teller.

Summer Heat

Since we are in the middle of July now, and at the height of summer I got to thinking about how I used to spend summer vacations back in grade school. We spent quite a bit of time outside and would have to find many different ways to try and beat the heat. Summer nights hold my fondest memories though.

Specifically in high school, I had a group of friends that I still care deeply for. I am blessed with friends that have stuck with me and we still often chat to this day, nine years after I graduated. Summer was spent spending time together. We would all get together at our friend M.’s house and have a bonfire. Some nights involved movies, others board games. We would fill the house with our laughter and chatter until we decided to call it a night.

I wouldn’t call us angels, but for the most part we didn’t do the rebellious or illegal things that stereotypical high schoolers do. Inside jokes would fill our time together. Teasing each other with affection and sarcasm often too place.

My favorite memory has to be when we went to a playground by M.’s house and goofed around until we needed flash lights to see the world around us. Old school playground rules came back full force. If you were matching someone next to you on the swings, then you were “married”. The guys helped us girls get as high as we could on the swings, and helped spin the merry go round (? not sure if that is what the playground version is called.). Our laughter grew with each passing antic and sometimes got to the point where we all had to take a moment and pause long enough to take some deep breaths and get a normal amount of air back into our lungs.

Summer featured the local public pool. Most years my parents would either by a year pass or pay the fee each time we went swimming, no matter where we lived. My siblings and I learned to swim quite early in life, and my parents made sure that we were strong enough that if we were on the water, and fell in, we would be okay. Because of this training, we became little fish. A trip to the pool was always welcome and we were always excited. The pool was a sure fire activity to tire us out, and even though we were exhausted by the end of the trip, we still didn’t want to leave.

I will probably always prefer seasons with less heat, like spring, but I know that those memories hold that warmth of summer and I wouldn’t change a thing about them.

A Day to be Repaired

On May 28th, 2019 I had surgery on my left knee. There was quite the build up to the actual operation though. I had spent nine years trying every other option that my doctor offered to relieve the pain I was constantly living with. Nothing was showing up on the MRI scans or X-rays. No one could tell me what was causing me so much pain. I had gotten to the point that I was starting to think that there was no fix for me, and/or it was all in my head.

It all started October 10th, 2011. I had been dealing with knee issues, mainly jumpers knee, since sixth grade, but that day was different. During color guard practice for our home show that others had been setting up for to go on that night, I was turning around, and when I went to bend my knee, it gave out. Staggering amounts of pain came from my knee and I couldn’t speak through it in a normal voice. I was told by my coach who had to have been 50 yards away, that he heard what sounded like two hollow metal poles hitting each other, and when he turned to look all he found was me on the ground holding my flag like a safety blanket.

My teammates helped me off the field, and my mother was informed. She had been helping set up so she came to check on me. I iced my knee and marched through the pain that night to go on with my marching band. I told no one about the pain for the next week. The weekend after Home Show was the state compotation and I wanted to finish the season. Come Monday I couldn’t walk due to the pain.

This set of events started a sequence of many doctor appointments and treatments that ultimately lead me to being sent to the Mayo Clinic central hospital in Rochester, MN. There I met Dr. Dahm. That woman was my savior. She listened and helped me decide it was finally time to tailor a known surgery to my needs. Before I had been told that there wasn’t great odds that I would have less pain after. She didn’t promise pain reduction either, only that the structure would be repaired and that I would be able to learn to trust my knee again.

So I scheduled the operation for the summer months because I really didn’t want to be on crutches during the winter, plus I could wear shorts with the giant brace that came with recovery. My mom, grandma, and I spent the night before in a hotel. Needing to be at the hospital bright and early, and living three hours away did not mix. Doctors came in to the preop room and signed my knee to make sure we were all on the same page. Didn’t want to cut open the wrong limb. They even showed up this laser guide that helped the nurse put my IV in. My grandma was very interested in that laser thing.

The next thing I knew I was being wheeled into the cold operating room. I don’t remember much after that until I was eating dinner in my room. The doctors were pretty happy that I was hungry after, because the stomach tends to be fairly tired after surgeries.

My mom found a shirt, that I still wear these days, in the gift shop. It states proudly that I was repaired in Rochester. The laughter that shirt caused really helped me feel lighter after the surgery. What made me feel even better was when at my post op appointment, my doctor told me that they found the reason I was in so much pain for so long. The back of my knee cap was pretty damaged from rubbing on the bottom of my femur. With the structure work they did in the surgery, I no longer have to worry about that.

Recovery was quite the process. I hated not being able to do things for myself. My sister heard me complaining about that and found her own way to help me feel better. Normally I am the one who scoops the ice cream for the family when we have it. I couldn’t do that confined to a large chair in the living room though. But my sister told me to grab my lap desk, and brought me over the scoop, the ice cream, and my bowl. I was able to serve myself at least and that absolutely made my day. It was the little things like that, that made me feel more like me.

I will forever be grateful for the scars that I now carry on my knee. 36 stitches, eight weeks using crutches to walk, and four months in a brace at all times. People say that your don’t know what you got until it is gone, and those moments of recovery certainly taught me to value the ability to do things for myself, and to find joy in the little things during the day.

Summer Storms

One year my family had a reunion hosted at our local campground. We had set up in the group site so everyone could be together and the spaces used for meals would be communal. My parents had set up their big green tent which houses six people, while my sister and I were in smaller tents. Think sort of like having our own bedrooms while camping.

We didn’t expect the rain. Several of us threw on ponchos and other rain gear, mostly the younger generation, and played in the rain as it fell. The older folks laughed at our antics and sat together under the large roof structure that was at the center of the site. A smaller pop up was set up to go over the grill so we could still have our meals and various card games started to make their way to the tables as entertainment when we were done for now playing in the puddles.

That night I fell asleep to the sound of rain dancing on the outer shell of my small tent. Rain has always been one of my favorite sounds. The drops of water hitting the roof, or colliding with the windows just to run down them, helps me fall asleep. There is even a rain noise maker app on my phone for when I am having a difficult time getting my mind and body to wined down at the end of the day. It put me into such a sound sleep that it took quite a racket to wake me.

My father woke my sister and I up in the middle of the night. I was startled awake by the entirety of my tent shaking, thanks to my dad who was doing his best to get through the sleep fog. He called to me through the roar of rain and thunder, trying to get me to be awake enough to understand my situation at the time. When I moved on my air mattress, the entire thing shifted across the bottom of the tent. This action startled more awareness into me. Deciding to truly test out what I had just felt, I poked at the floor in my tent. The water outside had gotten so deep that it waved back at me with ripples.

It was by that point that I understood that I had picked a low spot in the ground for my tent, and that pretty soon the water was going to be so high that it was going to start to pour in my zippered door. I quickly, or at least as fast as I could possibly half asleep and walking on water, got out of my tent and rushed through the rain that was hammering down with my dad to the tent that he shared with my mom. Inside, my mom and sister were waiting and trying to set up a spot that would be comfy enough for us to sleep through the rest of the night.

Dad pulled the stakes that anchored our tiny tents to the ground and tried his best to pull them to higher ground. Thankfully it was this action that made it so I didn’t have to spend the following day in the same pjs. We had to find a way to dry out some of the larger things because water has a way of being a pest, but for the most part we managed to find our way through the storm.

Those memories serve as great reminders for me. The warm glow of happy faces and laughter shows me that even when the world around you is trying to throw everything it has at you, trying to knock you down, you can still dance in the rain and count on those closest to you to come to your aid when it certainly looks bleak.