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!

Cursive: A Right of Passage

In case you didn’t know, I teach my cousin as an English touter. (Turns out to be a perk of having a degree in writing that I didn’t know about.) ;) Recently I was chatting with my younger cousin and found out that due to when he was going through school, he only had one lesson on writing in cursive. According to him, they barely taught him how to write his name and then never talked about it again.

This idea kind of boggled my mind. When I was in 3rd grade I spent countless hours learning how to make each letter stroke for stroke. Writing my name became an art project. I was amazed at how fancy my name looked. Then afterwards, I saw changes in my printing penmanship as well. Letters that used to be nothing but sticks changes and morphed into these round curly shapes. Thankfully it made my hand writing easier to read, and I think that it has maintained a decent pretty quality to this day.

What really made me sad about the phasing out of cursive in school, is that another of my cousins couldn’t read the hand written well wishes written to her and her fiancé on cards at their baby shower. These beautiful messages had to be translated for them as if they were written in a different language.

I am grateful that I learned and can read cursive. That means I get to keep the notes from my elders and reread them whenever I feel the need. I love that I have a box with cards that mark special moments in my life, and that I get to hold those moments closer because of this skill.

Thankfully I am able to teach my cousins enough that they should be able to learn to read those heartfelt messages and be able to treasurer them as well.

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.

A Reciprocal Connection

I have been thinking lately about how my family’s animals picked us just as much as we picked them. I have written in a previous post about Erza picking me, but the other animals in my life followed that same pattern pretty closely.

Maggie was still needing to be with her mom when I first got to meet her. My parents took my sister and I to meet her when she was around six weeks old. We were supposed to have gotten a puppy from a previous litter, but the mother had sadly miscarried. Maggie was a part of the next litter to be born, so we had first pick.

When we went to meet Maggie, we sat down in the puppy play pen, and were obviously surrounded by Maggie and her litter mates. Every time one of her siblings tried to get our attention, if Maggie wasn’t being held by one of us, she would push them out of the way. “This is my family, so back off,” was probably what she was thinking. She wanted to love all of us, and not share.

River was a rescue puppy. I saw a listing on the local humane society’s Facebook page about a litter of puppies, and River wasn’t even one of those listed. Another family had already shown interest. Fortunately for us, that family changed their minds, and we ended up with him.

Originally his name was Galileo. What a mouthful of a name, especially for a puppy. So when we got him home, we decided to change his name. My sister offered up the name River because of the strip of white fur on his nose, it looks like a river.

These connections were meant to be if you ask me. I think that we receive the pet we need when the time is right. They choose to love us just as much as we choose them.

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.

Phone Culture

This last week I got a new phone. My old one started to close out of apps that I was using and the battery life was pretty bad. Thankfully I had the option of getting one of the latest models, one of the Pixel 7 line. Obviously the new phone had updated features and a improved camera, which were big pluses for me when picking out which one to go with. But this whole process has brought a few things to mind that I didn’t think of before.

Since my phone was ordered online, and was being shipped to my house, I had to wait for it to arrive in the mail. I took the time to search Amazon for a new case that was both decent protection and still fun to look at. I ended up with a blue case that has some fun colors on the back. The drawback I found here is that my case wasn’t scheduled to arrive until Friday, the phone was projected to be in my hands by Thursday. That meant I would have some time where my phone wasn’t covered in a case, while it was in my hands.

I am a fairly clumsy person. This fact has always made me giggle due to the fact that I danced for color guard in high school, which required grace. Normally the two don’t match up. Anyways, this is the reason I have always tried my best to find a case that would really protect my phone. Lucky for me, I haven’t broken a phone yet, it is always “old age” that takes them out.

But the search for a case, and that time spent without, had gotten me thinking. Why would anyone choose to go without a case on their device? My mom always said, you pay quite a bit for that phone so it is worth your investment to pay for a decent case to protect it. So why, when you have the option of paying a little more to protect your phone, would you willing take the risk of making it easier to break?

Another thought that came to mind, is the amount of apps I have on my phone. When you have to transfer all your information and these days that incudes the apps, everything gets logged out or reset most of the time. So I have ended up deleting several apps that moved over and I realized that I hadn’t opened them in several months. So I got curious if that process is the same for everyone. Do you remove apps your not using periodically? Maybe I should start trying to implement that practice with my phone? Please let me know what you think.

One thing I will forever be thankful for though is that I am able to have a phone. That device allows me to stay in contact with my three best friends, and my friends from high school. I use it often to text my friend who lives in Virginia, sending her pictures just to make her smile when she has had a rough day. Because of my phone, I was able to send another friend a pride filled text when she graduated with her doctorate in veterinary medicine. Almost every day I get sent cute photos of my honorary niece and nephew and all their cute faces, thanks to their loving mommy, who is also my friend.

What comes to mind when you think of how cell phones are handled now, vs what they were when they first became a thing? Please let me know in the comments. I would love to hear from you.

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.

Twin Ideas

Fun fact about me is that my maternal grandmother is an identical twin. This last weekend we celebrated their birthdays and we started sharing stories about how people around us reacted through our lives about having twins in the family. My grandma and aunt had a great time and laughter was the main sound to be heard over dinner and cake.

I think my favorite moment was when my friends would finally meet my great aunt at my graduation parties or various significant birthday gatherings. They would see the two sisters sitting next to each other, come up to me and ask, “There is two of them?” I can’t help but laugh each time I get asked that question. Once I am done laughing, I take a moment and explain. Once I am done explaining everything is fine again and they laugh off their question.

In the past I have gotten asked if my grandma is cheating on my grandpa. That once also makes me giggle. My grandparent have been married for over fifty years. They are very happy together. So not only does the idea of it make me laugh, but the almost inside secret that I am privy to that others don’t know about. When I explain the whole twin situation, they usually get embarrassed for even asking the question. I have to admire them for even asking in the first place because it takes quite a bit of guts to ask at all. (Side note: A man who worked for a grocery store was the first one that I know of to make this assumption. My grandparents would shop at the same store as my great aunt and uncle but on different days.)

Having a grandparent who is a twin certainly come with lots of laughter. I love having something extra fun about my family that has become an inside joke for us. And honestly there is no real difference between my grandmas, maternal and paternal, even though one is a twin. It mostly feels like I was given an extra grandma via my aunt. Because they are identical, I do include her in my medical records, but that is all the real difference.

I love my family and the unique parts of it that make for interesting stories and tales. They make my life filled with laughter.

Gone to the Dogs

I have never had the kind of relationship with a dog that I do with my cat. I was never the favorite person of the canines in my family. Obviously they still love me, and I return the love full force. However, the cats in my family tended to hold a closer bond in my heart.

This recently changed with the addition of Maggie. Maggie’s favorite person is without a doubt my mom. Whenever she is home, Maggie is following her around like a shadow, and is constantly on her lap if my mom sits still long enough. But when Mom isn’t around? I become the one she follows.

Maggie really enjoys playing with her ball, especially if it is a squeaky ball. So each morning, when it was my turn to be up with the dogs, I would throw her ball for her and play various games with her by hiding it. (Note: my brother and I take turns getting up in the morning to be with the dogs due to the fact that they are all still pretty young and enjoy making messes and getting into things that could do them harm if they are not being watched.) The other dogs, Cooper and River, also really enjoy having me be the one who wakes up in the morning. They will pout at the top of the stairs and stare at my door until I open it.

Having this kind of bond with dogs is completely new to me. They actively seek out my attention and ask to play with me. Whenever their person is not readily available, then I am on deck to satisfy their needs. I have to say it is pretty nice to be chosen, even if it is only second place, by not only my cat for once. There is much more interaction, activities that are vastly different, then how I am with my feline companions. The dogs join us in the car, and on some beach days. They go outside often obviously, but they are able to stretch their legs and really run when we let them out the back door into the fenced in yard. (I do walk my cat on a leash, she is harness trained, but she will only move a few feet at a time and is easily scared by large noises outside.)

While many similarities are present between the two species of animals, especially with my cat who enjoys belly rubs and walks outside, I think I will continue to hunt for the differences and truly enjoy making the most out of this new to me kind of bond.

Childhood Values

I was hanging out with one of my best friends the other day and we were watching her eldest child running through the sprinkler and playing in his little pool. The warm weather made it the perfect day to give him the little squirt guns that I had found recently. I became the cool adult because I engaged in a water fight with him. My shirt was soaked and my glasses speckled with droplets by the time he moved on to running through the sprinkler as it watered the grass.

These events got me thinking about my childhood and how we would entertain ourselves while on summer break. I am a 90s baby, so things like smart phones and iPads didn’t exist yet. Warm summer days were spent playing outside with the neighborhood kids, or on play dates with friends from school. Sprinklers and little kiddie pools were special treats used to try and beat the heat. If you happened to live in an area with street lights, as soon as they turned on, you were expected to be heading home for the night.

Looking back on these memories, I started thinking about how I wanted to approach raising my possible future children. I don’t want them to become attached to screens. Occasional time spent watching tv or playing on a smart device will be allowed. I treasured watching Saturday morning cartoons with my dad, while still in our pjs, eating a bowl of cereal. Also long car rides might be made a bit easier on my sanity if screen time was given.

Overall though, I think I would like them to have a childhood similar to mine. Playing outside and exploring the world while curiosity still runs deep in their bones. Learning about how the natural world works by getting their hands in the dirt. Using their imagination to create fantastical worlds that entertain the mind for hours. Making use of the warmer weather in the summer to get some vitamin D and learning to swim.

A child shouldn’t become jaded by the world until they are old enough to understand how we got to where we are, in my opinion. I want to try my best to preserve the innocent nature that they start with, for as long as I can. Fingers crossed that I can actually achieve this ideal.

The Family Pet

I always was surrounded by animals growing up. Several dogs at once, and a few cats that would lounge around the house like royalty. My current lot is three dogs, (River, Cooper, and Maggie), and three cats (Erza, Pho, and Gobi). Something I have learned being with these animals through my life, is there is a very deep connection that forms between an owner and the pet. Even if the animal did not choose you as their human, you become attached to the creature, and your memories have this happy glow to them.

My pets have always been furry, and that would be because I am not a huge fan of the other varieties. I am glad that other people find space in their hearts for these animals, because I certainly wouldn’t be able to properly take care of them due to my aversion. If you own a creature of the scaly persuasion, then I am truly happy for you. Those animals deserve to have the best life that can be given to them.

Cats in particular seem to really enjoy being around me. Since I was ten years old I have been a proud cat mom. Now for those who are against using the parent terms with our fur babies, please note that I have thought it through and found it appropriate. You take care of every need these animals have. You buy them toys and food, take them to the doctor when they are under the weather. There is a responsibility that you take on when you adopt an animal. I don’t have kids, so I can’t compare completely, but too many people their pets are their babies.

As a cat mom, I have had a partner in crime, a best friend, and a furry soulmate all wrapped into one. Smokey was my first cat. My dad brought home two kittens when I was ten years old. They had been barn cats and he only meant to adopt one, but couldn’t separate them because they were playing together and having the best time. So Smokey and her brother Riley became part of our family. Riley chose my younger sister as his person, and he completely understood what she needed out of that relationship. Smokey chose me and I was completely honored to be her person.

It wasn’t very obvious at first, but turned out that Smokey was born blind. There was no physical problem with her eyes, which we a crystal blue that I just adored, so we assumed that the connection along her optic nerve or in her brain wasn’t quite working. This fact never changed anything for me and our relationship though. Even though she couldn’t see like an average cat, she never knew what she was missing. I would pick out toys that made noise, or had reflective surfaces because it seemed like she could pick out some lights and shadows. Smell was a big thing for her, and it seemed to drive how she found her way around the world.

At age 24, I unfortunately lost her due to the original brain condition that she was born with. The vet told me to be very proud of how long she had lived because most cats with brain issues don’t live to be 14. Two weeks later, I adopted Erza. Some may say that is too fast to adopt another, but I had all this love to give and without my cat to give it to, I was lost. Erza helped heal me. She gave me plenty of reasons to smile again and to feel safe loving another cat like I had with Smokey.

Each animal has their own personality. Smokey was fairly calm, and took her time figuring out her next move. Erza loves to play with my pens, and throws her whole self into every adventure she possibly can have. (Obviously this will sometimes get her into trouble.) These differences made me feel my grief in the beginning, when I so desperately wanted Smokey back. However as time has gone by, I realized that I love that Erza is not a carbon copy of my first kitty. I enjoy watching her eyes and how they explore her surroundings, mostly because Smokey’s eyes never reacted to her world. Erza chases after toys that I throw, and I really enjoy that I am finding a new way to interact with my cat.

Our pets have love to give, and I am completely certain that they understand us in their own way. They come give us cuddles when we are sad. They know when to back off and give us a moment to ourselves. Specific words make more sense to them, like your word for their favorite toys, or what you call their meals/food. Overall though, I know that Erza understands me when I explain something to her, and the other animals in my house show the same intelligence spark in their eyes. (Don’t get me wrong there are some animals that are not the brightest crayon in the box, but the same goes for people.)

That bond that forms between us and our pets is incredibly strong and I know that I never want to go for very long in my life without having some form of it. To know the love of an animal, is to know truly unconditional love. They don’t know the concept of hate, or prejudice. It certainly makes me laugh when I see them thinking that a stranger is just a friend they haven’t met yet. They never dislike someone without getting to know who they really are.

I will forever be thankful for the time I got with Smokey, and all my other pets who have passed on. I am also so grateful for the bonds that I have now. The possibility of even more bonds out there that I have yet to make excites me. Hopefully some of you readers feel the same way.

Knight in Shining Armor

Today my cousin came to my rescue when I found a bee in our grandparent’s kitchen window. I have never gotten along with that certain insect. Ever since I was a kid, and I got stung by one, I have tried my best to avoid them.

I had heard a buzzing, like a large fly against glass, coming from the kitchen multiple times. Every time I went to point it out to W. the buzzing would stop. Giving up on trying to get him to hear it as well, I stood up to get a glass of juice from the kitchen. Just as I entered the room, I spotted a large bee crawling across the window pane. Quickly I backed away, and asked my cousin to come into the kitchen. When he took the two steps into the room, and I pointed out the flying insect, all he did was ask me what I wanted him to do about it.

I explained that I would be very grateful if he could get a paper towel and take care of the bug. He complied, having to wait a short moment for the bee to fall down the window pane again so he could actually reach it. When he went to flush the bundle, I assume because he moved pass the trash can and towards the bathroom, the now very angry bee stung him through the paper towel. My grandpa joined us in the kitchen shortly after, and had to take five swings to get the bee to give up.

I know we are supposed to be saving the bees, but can you really get upset with the situation when there is no way to get the insect back outside again with the rest of bee kind? Personally, I am not a fan of inside bugs, so most of those that find themselves inside the same building as me, end up in the same situation as this bee. RIP Bee…