Simple Things- Chocolate Chip Cookies!!

I am OH so thankful for homemade chocolate chip cookies with extra chocolate chips, fresh out of the oven so the chips are still melting when you split the cookie apart. The simple things in life are what bring me the most joy and that is one of them. The cookie is soooo warm and comforting, chocolate is my favorite sweet and when it is melted it is OH so tasty. This treat always brings a smile to my face.

I'm craving it, just thinking about it!!

My Health

I've had a rough time with the ol' health since I hit my 20s, but things seem to be working themselves out. With the help of my VNS and working (a lot) with meds, I think I'm getting to a point where I remember what normal feels like.

The rough patch was awful, to say the least. Above all else, it was emotionally draining. But the best part about the hard times in life is that you grow stronger from them. So I am thankful for the strength I've gotten from getting through rough times. And I'm thankful that I'm feeling better. I can go out with friends and not pay for it for a week. I mean, I can go out with friends, period. I can have a job. I can be 27. And I'm a stronger girl than I would have been if I didn't have a hard time getting to this point.

A Month of Giving Thanks

Oh my. So, I was going to try to spend all of November blogging each day about one thing that I am thankful for, from something superficial to things that are very deep. I'd get it if I started on the first of November and fell behind, but I didn't even get that far! Goodness.

But I am a very blessed person and I try my best not to take anything for granted, any time of the year. I just want to take time to share with the Internet some things that I have to be thankful for. I am going to start with 11 things and HOPE that I am good enough to return each day with another thing to add to the list. Otherwise, I know I'll be back on Thanksgiving.

In no particular order, 11 things I am thankful to have for.

1. I have to bundle this up in one big package and just say FAMILY. It would take up more than my list if I tried to narrow it down to my mom, my grampa, my brothers, my husband, individual cousins, my in-laws and on and on...
This has been a very painful year with the passing of my very special grampa, but he left me with so many memories and so many life lessons that I feel him with me every single day and plan to live with his life lessons in my mind. His passing also brought me closer to some incredibly special relatives when I needed them the most. And this year wasn't just about losing him, but also about my cousin's wedding, which was so, very special. That was another time when I felt extra close to family. I got to spend a week with that cousin and her family and felt more like a sister than just a cousin. My cousin is incredibly blessed with her sweet-hearted husband, which makes *me* feel blessed and I'm so happy that he is a part of our family!
In a quick summary, I always know that I have a beautiful family. But this year, something extremely sad happened and something very happy happened. During those two extremes, I learned just how very special my family is. I am very blessed.

2. The roof over my head. In this time when the economy is rough, people are losing their homes or having trouble making rent or paying their mortgages. My husband and I still own a house AND rent, but we're able to do it. We have trustworthy renters for the house and an affordable apartment that is comfortable and in a good neighborhood. I absolutely do not want to take this situation for granted, when so many people are facing tough times. I'm very lucky to have a safe, cozy home that we know we can afford.

3. Which leads me to our jobs. I bet everyone either has or knows someone who has been laid off. My husband works in a field that is safe from lay-offs and my job won't be going anywhere. How very lucky we are right now!!

4. And THAT leads me to food. I'm sitting here snacking on Chex Mix, something that was a luxury when I was in college and lived off canned veggies and soup! I pass a lot of jobless people when I go to work. I don't know their stories, but I know that they're not in good shape. I'm glad that we can support ourselves and afford this tasty food. Even the naughty Chex Mix!

5. My puppy. Sure, he belongs in the "family" category, I suppose. But he's so much more! He makes me laugh when times are hard, he snuggles when I'm just relaxing, and he just makes me feel good! All of that from a little furry critter who doesn't realize what he's doing. He's just living. But he brings me so much joy!!

6. My clothes. I'm a cheap shopper. I don't like to spend a lot of money on clothing. But I do like to have fun with what I buy. Some people don't have that luxury. People come in to my job all the time wearing the same outfit for weeks, or wearing clothes that don't fit because they had to accept hand-me-downs. I'm a blessed girl.

7. My friends. I have met so many great people in my life. I'm usually drawn to them by their sense of humor, then what I learn about them keeps me hanging around. All of my friends are intelligent, kind people who inspire me because they are so wonderful. Yay for funny, fun friends!

8. Iowa City. You heard me. This whole area is awesome and full of opportunities to seize. You wanna go out? There are a variety of things to do. You wanna volunteer? Pick your cause, there are tons of organizations here. You wanna build up your resume? There are places everywhere that need your help and in return, you just might be led to an awesome job opportunity. You just have to poke around a bit. PLUS, I like this area because people generally seem to leave their judgements at the city limits. Unless you're a Cyclone fan.

9. Music. Usually, I love music because I love to hum along and dance to it. Sometimes I like it because I'm in a low mood and the lyrics can make me feel completely validated. Others understand. No matter how I'm feeling, music gets me. :)

10. High heels. It's funny, but I really don't think I'm that short until I meet someone new and they point out how very short I am, at 5'1. But when I wear high heels and stand at 5'4, the world looks totally different and I feel even more confident... and usually the shoes look super cute. Something so small can make me feel so good.

11. Short people. Very rarely, I will find myself standing behind a man who is shorter than me. Probably 5 feet tall. I get so excited that I will stand just inches behind him and straighten up my posture so I can see what it feels like to other adults to stand in a crowd of adults. It's really satisfying. Probably creepy on my part and I don't really notice that I'm doing it until after the fact, but... it makes me feel good about myself. =-D

The ones who entertain & the ones who observe...

Okay, lame, I know. The title of this blog is the second part of a verse in Britney's Circus song... "There are two types of people in this world..." and then the title. The whole verse was too long to be my title.

Anyway, despite my disposition in certain settings that often leads people in party settings to ask if I'm drunk (no) because they're so used to seeing me in my quiet demeanor, I really do like being the center of attention. REALLY like it. For instance, when I karaoked in Memphis, I was scared at first, because I knew my voice wasn't going to be good. But when I got up there and sang and people cheered me on, I didn't want to leave. So I sang again. And if we didn't have to meet our hotel van at a specific time, I honestly think I would have spent the whole night singing, because no one else was that eager. It would have been Meghan's Night at Wet Willie's. That was also the night I was dancing while we had dinner at BB King's Bar and the blues band noticed and called me up to the stage. I felt hesitant at first, but Kevin encouraged me and once I was up there, I drank in the attention. And because these two things happened that same night, when Kevin and I walked down that street to find our hotel van, we were stopped three times. Twice by people who remembered me from karaoke and one by a guy in the blues band who wanted to thank me for being cool about dancing with them.

Honestly, my natural tendency on a day-to-day basis is to be a homebody. Nothing speaks to me like pajamas and my super-cozy blanket, writing or reading or something quiet. But I loved being narcissitic and feeling like that night was all about me.

And that's what I did last night. My job gave us the opportunity to be a part of a huge parade for the university I attended. A Big 10 school that every college sports fan knows the details about, and I was raised to be a fan, though I've backed off since I went to school there. But I wanted to get into the spirit for homecoming. I'm proud of being an alumna, AND my Grampa absolutely LOVED this school and their sports. I wanted to do this for him and knew I'd have a great time.

Seeing as how I work at a library, they chose to make our theme "Read Banned Books" and celebrate the fact that we do have the freedom in our country to read books, like Dr. Seuss's The Lorax or Where's Waldo or 1984 or James and the Giant Peach (the list of surprising titles goes on and on), that certain schools or organizations may try to ban. This meant we got to dress as characters from books that have been banned. I chose to dress as Little Red Riding Hood, which was banned because in one edition, Little Red Riding hood was taking alcohol to her sick grandmother. We also had Where's Waldo, Tom Sawyer, Harry Potter, a witch, and other characters that I'm already forgetting. There were 14 of us, I think.

Being in this parade was such an amazing experience. Even my hometown's biggest parades aren't as big as this. I got to our meeting spot an hour and a half before the parade. We warmed up by eating pizza and stealing candy from our neighbors. Actually, I attempted, with a coworker, to ask for candy, and I just froze when we got to the group. We stood there and stared at them. My coworker tried to say their name, but no one paid attention, so after 3 minutes of awkwardly standing, we ran full speed back to our spot. Everyone threw their hands open, expecting us to have something for them and we explained what happened. Two friends went back and returned with candy. They said that the folks saw us standing there awkwardly and didn't know what our deal was. Embarassing? Yes.

After a while, we practiced our moves for the parade. Ten of us had book carts and are big move was to maneuver around in a single line, like a big snake. It sounded great, but during the first try, my shoe fell off and I screamed the whole time. I was swung every which way and was terrified of the possibilities during the parade. The second maneuver was a mess. We were supposed to criss-cross, but we didn't have the talent for it. Instead, our leader, Where's Waldo, changed it to Freestyle and we would just go crazy and then return to our spots.

Finally, after eating, dancing, having chanting wars with our neighbors, and screaming through the practice of "The Snake," it was time to walk into the parade. I noticed that I was doing my "catwalk." I realized this was probably not the look that Little Red went for. So I changed it to a friendly smile and we were engulfed by hundreds of people. I couldn't hold myself back. My "All About Me" side just had to look into the crowd and point, smile, wave and say "Yeah, hi!" and nod and turn to the other side and do it again. I did this a few times and then found a girl who actually was waving at us and waved and screamed, "HELLO!!" So she would feel cool. Or maybe so I would feel cool.

We did the snake several times and my shoe stayed put. Cameras were everywhere, so I made sure to pose while we snaked JUST in case they wanted to use THIS face in the paper, which I don't think anyone did. I only screamed once during a snake when I felt like one of my arms was going to have to fall out in order for the sequence to work.

Kids would yell, "WE WANT THE CANDY." My coworker cleverly responded, "We've got free books ABOUT candy!" I couldn't think of anything clever to yell... so I kept walking and smiling, sometimes yelling, "Read!" or "Life's a book!" I don't really know what I meant. So I stopped yelling and pretended those hundreds of people showed up just to see me. Me!

When we were done, I still had a high from the attention. Besides the angry kids who wanted candy, we did get claps for our Snake and people shouting, "The Library!!" I would "Woo!" right back to encourage more.

I like being in the middle of it all. Even if I'm dressed in a ridiculous costume and pigtails. It was a fun night.

I wonder what else I can do and, in my head, make it all about me.

Guess I'll go google myself.

Catching up

I've been busy with a lot of fun things lately.

I turned 27, an age that sounds shockingly high and I'm not sure how I got here so soon, but also an age that I used to think sounded so cool. So I guess I'm okay with being here.

The Husband gave me a surprise birthday dinner with my best friend, her boyfriend and my brother on my birthday. My first surprise party! That was awesome... and a surprise gift, which was tickets to my second most favorite pop singer--Britney Spears. My first favorite is Christina Aguilera. I was so excited I laaaaughed and had tears in my eyes. Silly me.

So we enjoyed that and were in the online edition of the Register because I made a silly homemade shirt. hee

The weekend after that, I went to Kansas City to celebrate The Husband's 29th birthday. I'm more stunned that he's actually 29 than that I'm 27! It's just, I met him when he was 19... right around this time of year. How is it that I can say I've known him for 10 years?? Anyway, we went to KC and stayed at his brother's girlfriends house and had an AMAZING weekend. He and his brother went to a KC football game while the girlfriend and I had coffee and went window shopping. If you have never heard of Anthropologie, it's about time you learn. That store is A-MA-ZING. I could have spent the whole day there. The sold clothes and accessories, home decor, books... the works. They even had THE MOST adorable hardware for your dressers or cabinets or whatever you want! Loved. it. We had a great time.

The weekend after that, we stayed in town and enjoyed a good ol' BBQ with my best friend and her boyfriend. I love that I've known this girl since I was 11. We did middle school, high school AND college together. We even lived together for a year. They say don't live with your best friend, but we didn't have a problem. That year is a blur now, so it surprises me when I can say, "Remember when we lived together and we'd hide the pinata and fake dog poop for the other to find? That was funny."

Aw, inside jokes.

Anyway, it was nice to have a night in with them. We ended up watching a few episodes of Punky Brewster. I remember ADORING Punky Brewster back in the day, but I didn't remember a thing that we saw!! Except how Punky dressed and what she and the foster dad looked like. Back in the day, though, I loved Punky so much that I had Punky Brewster shoes. They were basically tri-colored converses.

Oh, sometime last month and last weekend I got to go to musicals and critique them in my quest to be a freelance writer. Please don't judge my freelance writing skills based on this ol' thing. The musicals were amazing... writing about them was HARD, but fun. I hope this opportunity leads to something in my career at some point. I need to find more opportunities and make myself better known. This is a big town when it comes to the arts. Lots of competition, BUT certainly I can dig up lots of opportunities. Really, I don't feel like opportunities necessarily come to you (although this one did ~thanks Sharon~). I feel like you create your own opportunities.

So now I've summed up September. Next up: I have a brain appointment and no expectations. I have no clue what we're going to discuss. The day after that, I'm going to be in the homecoming parade (yay!!). And that evening, I may find out if I'm going to be a juror next week.

*dramatic music*

If I Could Call Heaven

I think I've discussed on here that I lost my Grampa this year. It has hit me very hard, because he was my number 1 man (shared spot with The Husband). He was my father figure, someone I loved more than I love myself, someone I truly admire and absolutely my hero. It would take a book to describe him, but anyone who has met him was charmed by him. He was graceful, charming, intelligent, and very, VERY funny in ways you didn't always expect. When coworkers would pass around pictures of their adorable children at work, I passed around pictures of my Grampa and Gramma.



This is the first time I have lost somebody very dear to me. I am having trouble accepting it and moving on, so I'm trying to find positive outlets to process this and charge ahead.



The good thing about strong emotions is that they inspire writers to write.

This isn't a particularly fantastic poem or anything, but I liked the idea behind it. I got the idea from a movie I was watching. A mom was buying an old van that had a CB radio and her child asked what the radio was. The salesman gave a quick answer saying that you just grab the walkie-talkie part, hit a button and talk to the heavens and the boy took him literally. He tried talking to the heavens to try to find answers.



It made me think about what I would happen if I could talk to Grampa and I wrote this. Again, not publish-worthy. Just something I wrote a few minutes ago.



If I Could Call Heaven
~Meghan D'Souza


If I could call Heaven

And talk to Grampa again,

I'd squeal with delight,

Ask how he's been.

He'd talk of reuniting

with his daughter and mother.

He'd say he's free of pain,

His legs and feet are not a bother.

He plays golf, still,

With friends, old and new.

He and his family watch us.

He'd say, "Especially you."

I'd hear the twinkle in his eyes

That I miss most of all.

"I love you, you Cute Fixin'," He'd say.

If I could given Heaven a call.

Where does 10 years go?

I turned 27 this week. I can't figure out where time has gone since I was a senior in high school. I put my shirt on today thinking about how I recently bought it... then I remembered it was the summer before I turned 20.

On my actual birthday, I was thinking about how I swear I was just 17. A nerd in high school, involved in all sorts of activities, worrying about whether it was okay to stay home and go to community college like I really wanted or if I really should start at the university like my dad said... wondering why boys treated me like their sister and certain I would end up a cat lady. Working 35 hours a week, schooling 40 hours a week, sleeping 5, extracurriculars, volunteering and socializing the rest. I was always tired, but it didn't matter. I was always stressed, but my friends felt the same way. Seventeen was tough, but fun. The worst part was worrying about my future and if I was making the right choices and whether I was being judged by my decisions.

I learned quickly that you don't plan life. Life happens. And most importantly, who cares about someone judging. If I'm happy, I'm happy.

Ten years ago, I planned everything I did and it all basically happened. That's sort of how high school works. Once out of high school... life takes over. I got sick and had to work around that. It's hard to let go of the control I thought I had and let life take over. I learned to stop caring what people thought and care about my health. With this in mind, I received my BA, I interned as a journalist, I got married, I got a certificate to work as a medical transcriptionist, I moved to a new town, I worked in the WAY back of television, then I worked in television production, I left television, and now I find myself in the library.

When I was 17, I told myself I was going to study overseas and then work in television and then get married to a Scottish man when I was 17... or be a cat lady, despite my allergies and ill-feelings towards cats.

Turns out, I met my sweetheart right after high school and I prefer writing to television.

Who knows what curveballs life will throw at me in the next 10 years? I only know that 10 years feels like a blink of the eye.

Vacation: Summarized

Okay, so... if there isn't someone hovering over me with a deadline, I'm not good at writing my stories.
Here is my summer vacation in a quick summary.... good golly.

*I was brave and used the restroom with The World's Largest Spider watching me. I even stayed to wash my hands in there instead of the kitchen without screaming. I calmly left and told Jessica about the spider. She attacked with spray and handed me a Swiffer to jump on it as back up in case it came at us. When it looked like it was morphing into a something with greater strength, I hugged the Swiffer and ran. She was Batman, but I will never be a good Robin.

* Jessica has a humongous television. It's great because everyone is about my size, so I got up to the TV and "booty danced" with the people, waiting for Jessica to notice from the kitchen. Before she noticed, her fiance (who had only met me twice before this) walked into the room. He asked what I was doing. I told him I meant for Jessica to discover me.

Later, my phone rang, and he did my booty dance to my phone.

*Jessica told me that her weird neighbor was in the yard talking to her fiance. I wanted to know what the neighbor looked like, and I thought only the three of us were home. So I walked on my tip toes with my shoulders scrunched and slowly made my way to the window. Jessica left the room to do her hair. Before I got to the window, the door flew open and Jessica's future brother-in-law caught me being creepy and sneaky... all by myself.

I felt bad that I was all Jessica had to represent the family.

*Jessica had a wonderful rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. The dinner was at an awesome Texas BBQ restaurant, like nothing we'd find in Iowa. The Husband always has debates with Jessica about Pop vs Coke. At dinner, he discovered the waitress was from Michigan, so when she took drink orders, he said, "I'll have a POP and you know what I mean!!!" I couldn't believe him. The waitress thought he was a crack up and delivered his Dr. Pepper, then she turned to a young waitress and said, "Now, you make sure his POP is always filled, okay?? Don't let his POP get low!!" And the poor young waitress was so confused. She was looking all over and asked, "What's a pop?? What is pop???" And I leaned over all embarrassed and said, "It's coke." So she thought her coworker was serious and didn't let Kevin's soda get anywhere near empty.

*Jessica got married. She honestly looked like she came out of a Disney Princess story, she was so beautiful, with her hair down in curls and her make up done just right. Her dad and her groom were sooooooo handsome in their tuxes. The four flower girls were precious in their dresses. And I felt so pretty in the bridesmaid dress she picked out. Everything took place outside by a lake, under a beautifully decorated gazebo. Something I used to dream about, but was too paranoid to try... I was certain if I did that, it would rain. Everyone was hot but me, because it was at least 100 degrees. I must have a high tolerance. My robotic tendencies kicked in and I didn't cry. I just took in the beauty of their love and felt so happy for my cousin to find love and glad that she found someone who appreciates everything about her. There is so much to appreciate!

*The husband of my cousin Nicole tried to tell The Husband how to get into Dallas as part of our trip home. He said there are 8,000 ways in. As Kevin put it, we discovered all of the ways to stay out. We tried for a very long time to get IN to Dallas, but we got frustrated after an embarassing amount of time and decided it was just time to go to Arkansas.

*We intended to camp, but as it always goes, it rained. So we actually accidentally saw Bill Clinton's boyhood home. By "saw" I mean we drove by it quickly and then went to a place called Hot Springs, found a cool hotel suite for $50 and intended to experience the hot springs in the morning.

*We couldn't find any springs the next day. We drove up a mountain, had lunch and went to Memphis.

*In Memphis, I became a star in my own mind. We went to BB King's Club and watched an awesome blues band perform. I got all involved and danced while I ate, so they spotted me and asked me to come up and dance with them. I was like, "Hmm... This is scary... but fun... but...." Kevin told me, "GO!!" So I did. I thought I was a big deal

*I had made a pact with myself that I would karaoke alone this year. We were walking down the major street at found a (quiet) karaoke bar and I decided it was time. To make it feel safe, I sang "Hit Me Baby" in Britney Spears voice. THEN I got all confident and sang "Hopelessly Devoted" from Grease. The few people who were there were just as scared as me and we formed a bond from the singing and fright. It was fun.

*We walked down the street more that time and were stopped three times by people who knew me from karaoke or the dancing. One of the times was from the bassist in the band at BB King's. THEN Kevin and I were like, "We made it! We're a big deal!" ha

*We watched ducks at a hotel who line up every morning and every night in a single line, go to the elevator, ride down it, and waddle to the hotel's pond. It was cute!

*We went to the Civil Rights Museum located where Martin Luther King was assassinated. It was heart wrenching. To know that just in my parents' lifetime, people were treated inappropriately simply because their skin color was different is sickening. Abraham Lincoln's time wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. Segregated schools, separate drinking fountains, segregating the bus. Starting violence during their nonviolent walks for equality. It's upsetting. And actually seeing where MLK sat before he was shot and the spot where he was shot AND the spot were the assasin was.... ah!
On to something happier!!

*We went to Sun Studio, where Elvis started his career... and Johnny Cash recorded.... and even Maroon 5 has recorded!! I just couldn't get over the fact that I stood where Elvis had been. I love that man. love him. love.

*We ended our trip in MO where we spent the day at a water park being children. I was only brave enough for a waterslide once. I hate feeling like I'm going to fall off the slide. So we spent most of the day on the lazy river and the waaaave pooooool!!! I love the wave pool.

And that concludes my summary of the vacation.

Next up... thoughts about my birthday.

Summer Vacation- Pt 1: Getting to Texas

I need to start spillin' about my summer vacation before I forget what happened!

First of all, you need to know that I flew to Texas to prepare for and be in my cousin Jessica's wedding. My husband K drove down the day before the wedding, enjoyed the wedding, then we had a road trip home. I will get into the details of the road trip as I type about those days.

So my flight itinerary was to leave Iowa at 9:30 am, quick stop in Chicago, quickly stop in Houston and be in Dallas by 5 pm. Sort of a long day of travel, but I was excited to be there in time for dinner, slip on my PJs and laze it up with my cousin. Though we had last minute things to do, I mostly wanted to make sure she got a lot of laziness in... we're pretty good at that when we're together.

In reality, I got from Iowa to Chicago just fine. My flight to Chicago left twenty minutes late... Meaning I just missed my flight to Houston. MAYBE if Houston's airport was the size of downtown Iowa City, I would have been good. But no. I had to do one of those fast walks where your hips sway all fast and your elbows and shoulders move all funny all the way to an escalator that took me to some tunnel that told me to wait for five minutes for a train that took ten minutes to take me to terminals B, C, the Marriot, D and finally terminal E when I started to wonder if we were going to make pit stops and grab lunch. That took me out of the airport so I had to go through security where the guard thought it'd be great to try to flirt with me for five minutes while I basically shouted back at his flirtatious advances, "NO, I'M NOT 22! YES I LOOK YOUNG!! NO, MY TICKET DOESN'T SAY JOHANNESBURG!" until he'd let me leave and by the time I found my gate, the attendants sadly shook their heads and said plane was long gone.

I called Jessica before I even got to my gate, because I knew the plane would be gone and that she'd be on her way to pick me up. I was incredibly grumpy because I had not slept well, but she always makes me smile. So she fixed my mood right up. I easily got a ticket and discovered that I wouldn't be leaving for Dallas until 6:30 and by Jessica's side until 8. I emotionally ate an overpriced sandwich, sat at my gate, grumbled about how my iPod wasn't recieving a wifi signal and shut my eyes by 4 o'clock.

I was just half asleep, sort of dreaming, but aware of my surroundings. I heard a boarding call for a flight to Orange County and kept my eyes closed while I heard people board. After about five calls for boarding, a man lightly touched my arm to ask if I was going to Orange County. I sighed, smiled and said no, but genuinely thanked him for asking. In my half sleep, I was grumpily thinking, "Are these people just going to let me sleep and possibly miss my flight?? Or do I just look that together, like I totally know what I'm doing??"

He felt bad for waking me up, but I genuinely thanked him again, because, seriously, what if it was my flight? And he said that he had slept through his boarding call before and didn't want that to happen. Not me. I just had an unexpected three hours to kill.

I closed my eyes and suddenly a family appeared next to me. It felt like there were hundreds of them. Things multiply and are way exaggerated when you are sleepy and grumpy. These dozens of siblings were speaking a combination of Spanish and English. At first, I thought it was pretty cool. In one sentence they would say, "Do you want a..." and then... "burrito."

Ha, kidding.

No, in one conversation they would say something like, "Tiene perro! Y el perro es so cute and fluffy!" But it got old fast, because I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming and they were cramping my sprawling space. So I moved to a quieter space. I had four empty seats around me. I quickly got annoyed, however, because I could feels eyes on me. They were the eyes of a dude sitting with his legs pointing towards me, chomping on food, and talking endlessly on his phone. And by phone, I mean blue tooth. You know, the phone that's hidden in his ear, so it looked like he was talking to himself. Only, in his annoying slang and with his legs pointed towards me, it looked like he was shouting at me for the rest of our stay at the gate.

I was not having fun. I wanted to be with Jessica.

The flight prepared me for my stay in Texas. I sat next to a couple with a very strong accent. My family has a cute little twang. I felt like these folks were planted to sit by me just because I was easily annoyed on this day. The man had to complain about everything and his wife had to whine back.
"Whah, dontchoo caawl yer day-ad?" he'd bark
"Cuz Ah dun feel lahk ee-it." She'd whine in a cartoony voice.
"But I just wanted quiet neighbors so I could sleep," I'd bark in my head.

FINALLY, after half of a can of soda --remember the days when you got two full cans of soda AND a snack??-- we landed in Dallas. I wanted to fall to the ground and kiss it. I was going to see my Jessica in just minutes! Get to her house in an hour, put on our jammies, talk for a while and.... SLEEP!!

Fortunately, despite my problems with the plane, my luggage was fine. I was bursting with excitement, all grumpiness forgotten (until now), as soon as I saw Jessica. We fell into our usually goofy ways as we grabbed my luggage (I nearly left with someone else's... then didn't believe that mine belonged to me even though my name was on the flight sticker, so I opened it, baring my unmentionables to the world) and got to her car.

We happily headed to her house... realizing too late that we were heading an hour out of her way, so we actually got there TWO hours after I landed. But at least we got there. This just gave us an extra hour to jam to New Kids on the Block.

Then I was greeted at the door by her charming now-husband with a hunting gun in his hands.

Aging

I wanted to jazz my page up a bit, because I go to other blogger sites and see that their pages are all decked out with cute photos on the top. I can usually figure out how to fancy up my business within about ten minutes or so. Since this blog is supposed to be about ME, MY thoughts and hopefully some sort of representation of MY strange life, I decided to pick a few pictures of ME and wanted to have them border the top of MY blog.

But it isn't working quite right. I've spent at least an hour trying to figure out how to make my page look unique and now I've ended up making it so you have to scroll to see large, deformed photos of myself. Could this inability to figure out how to just center a few photos of myself on a webpage mean... that I am getting old?

I really think the first sign of aging is that you become out of touch with the latest in technology. Then you lose track of the latest singers and bands. Then People Magazine doesn't make sense because you don't recognize any of the actors in the pages. Then... you don't understand what anyone is saying because the darn lingo is so silly. People are "LOL"ing and "WTF"ing with their "BFF"s in the hippest "swag." How are we supposed to get around with this chatter?

How am I supposed to have an eye-catching webpage if I can't figure out how to make it look like ME after an hour of tinkering?

This is what I get for turning 27 next month.

In other quick news, I want to prove that I DID fish after my last blog. I touched worms AND I touched a fish. Just have a look for yourself:I know. That sucker is HUGE. I'm da man.

I like to think I'm outdoorsy

I have a fun day ahead of me tomorrow. My cousin who is my best friend, her fiance, and I are heading to our family's big farm and livin' the outdoor life.

First, we are fishing. Now, The Fiance is an actual fisherman. In face, he recently caught a catfish who truly looked to be about 4 ft tall. No joke. The picture both amazed and frighten me. The good part for him and my cousin is that they will be eating well... probably until their 5th wedding anniversary. Anyway, I always get excited about the idea of fishing. Being out in nature, under the sun, surrounded by trees, hearing nothing by birds and the occasional splash of a fish. It's all so serene. I love it. Then I get the ol' fishin' pole in my hand and my stomach jumps a little when I notice just how sharp the hook is on the end of the stringy thingy at the end of the pole. But I still get a little confident when it comes to casting. My uncle, my cousin who is a nature enthusiast and my Grampa all gave me lessons when I was a little girl. Start with my arm behind me, stick my thumb on the button thing at 11 o'clock and let 'er loose at 2 o'clock. When I was 10, I rocked out at casting.

Of course, before casting comes baiting. But, uh, well, The Cousin and I aren't really crazy about worms. Lucky for us, she learned in elementary school that hot dogs are the perfect bait. It's a little known but true fact, as we used this as bait last year and The Cousin and our Grampa both caught fish with it.

So, I bait my terrifyingly sharp hook with a tasty hot dog, resisting the urge to take a bite of it myself. Then my stomach jumps when I toss the pole back, because I'm always so certain the sharp hook is going to get stuck on my leg somehow, I push the button deal, I release at 2 o'clock waiting for the magic and!

The hook falls two feet in front of me.

I don't get how I did this so impressively when I was 10 and then when I do this now, I can't get the line (Oh yeah! That's what the stringy thing is called!) to go way out in the water. So it's good that we'll have a real fisherman with us. We might have to use worms, but I'm challenging myself to step across my comfort zone more often, so I'll try the worm thing this year if I must. I'm not promising that I will do it without squealing, but at least I'm going to try.

After that, we will cruise around the farm on a mule. Back when we got the mule and the family was raving about it, I thought they were talking about the actual animal. I was imagining my Grampa and three others from the family galloping around the farm on a mule to "make it easier for him to get around." I mean, it sounded fun, but I didn't really get why we needed a mule. And how could it possibly fit four of us? And wouldn't it get tired? I always forget how many acres this farm is, but it's pretty impressive. The mule would get tired going from one side, through the woods, and to the open field. I don't know how it would carry four people back in by lunch. I don't know how it would even get to the other side of the farm by lunch.

It turns out a mule is a vehicle. Ours is something like this picture on the left. It seats for and you can carry things in the back. My Grampa would take us on tours of the farm, then randomly stop without telling us what he was doing, go to the back, grab a saw, walk up to a tree, saw off a vine, return the saw, and continue the tour, acting like he never left the mule.

In my lifetime, a vehicle like the mule never existed at the farm. We would go to the farm in Grampa's truck, drive it as close to the timber as we could, and tromp around through the woods. There are streams to walk through, paths to search for arrowheads in, a cave to explore. The cave has carvings in it that date back to the 1800s. It's an amazing place and when there has been enough rain, it is the site of a beautiful, but modest, waterfall.

Now, we still experience these beautiful sites. We just get to them by bumpin' in the mule instead of the truck. Sometimes... it's possible that TWO of the THREE of us going tomorrow have made fools of ourselves and have had to make a fast escape in the mule, driving at a quick 20 MPH. We feel like we're alone out there in all of those acres, but there is a farmer who keeps the fields up for us. You heard me. 20 of them.

Driving in the mule (not riding on one) does add to the experience. Having the summer air blowing around you is an amazing feeling. It makes you untouchable. And to me, nothing quite reaches the smell of a summer evening in the country. It's heavy, it's fresh, it has hints of grass and flowers. It reminds me of the carefree nights playing outside as a kid. Combine that with riding around on the mule at sunset with someone I love more than myself, The Cousin, and it feels like life can't get any better.

After an evening drive, we are going camping. Well, sort of. The Husband is camping this weekend by Lake Michigan. He is using his tent. He will build a fire from scratch and have his dinner made over the fire. He will hear raccoons quarrel when he's sleeping. That's camping. The Cousin, The Fiance and I are sleeping in a lodge. We're cooking our dinner on a grill because we want to, not because we have to. We might build a fire from scratch, also because it sounds like fun. But our bathroom has only been used by family members and friends. Families of daddy long legs won't be watching us when we need to take care of business in there. In fact, the bathroom looks better than my very own restroom at home. It was built and decorated by Amish neighbors. There are three bedrooms, eight (?) beds, a living room with a television and a kitchen with all of the appliances we could possibly need, including a George Foreman grill, in case we didn't want to use the outdoor grill. The only thing missing is air conditioning. Yes, we even have heated water.

That's how we camp. That's how outdoorsy I am.

I just wanted a hot dog

I've been on a hot dog kick lately. I don't know why, but I've been craving 'em and one dog does the trick.

So it was no surprise during work this evening that I began to crave a hot dog and promised myself a quick bite during my break. Seeing as how I work right downtown in a city with all sorts of food carts, I thought it would be no problem to find a hot dog stand. We have a grilled cheese stand here. A gyro stand. You can run into the pizza shop connected to my workplace and grab a really tasty slice in just one minute. Much to my dismay, though, there was no hot dog stand. A gyro stand, for crying out loud, but no hot dog stand.

So I decided to check out the market across the ped mall and see what they had to offer. They have a little bakery and like to tempt me with their cheesecakes and cookies. I often sneak over there for their super sugary coffees. I also happened to notice they had a little deli and thought maybe, if luck was on my side, that little deli might have a hot dog just for me.

So I tried to look inconspicuous and search the menu for "hot dog," but I wasn't inconspicuous enough. The deli dude spotted me right away and asked how he could help me. At that same moment, something caught my eye. I failed to mention that this market likes to put weird names for their items on their menus. For instance, my favorite coffee is sadly called something like cardiac attack or something totally grim like that. So, anyway, the moment the guy found me and asked how he could help me, my eyes landed on something called, "Hot Butt." Hot butt, hot dog... I don't know where hot dogs come from, so I thought maybe this was a funny name for the "gross meat" that goes into my hot dog.

So I approached the counter, set my arms on it and asked, "Could you tell me... exactly what is a hot butt?"

There was a moment of silence and he asked me to repeat myself. I looked back up at the sign, because my vision is a little blurry and I wanted to make sure it really was two separate "t's" and not an "n" at the end. It was, so I said, "What is a hot butt??"

He looked at me like I was kidding. He asked me where I saw that and I said it was on his menu, under "Premium Meats."

He said he had no clue what "it" was... I guess he didn't want to be so bold as to say, "a hot butt." I told him that I had been hoping it was a hot dog, slumped my shoulders over and walked away, grabbing a chicken sandwich on my way out.

Later it occurred to me that I could have avoided the whole odd conversation by just asking if they served hot dogs. I don't know why I don't just say what I want, sometimes, instead of ending up having these strange exchanges.

Back to... uh... normal

I don't get why "normal" is a word. What is "normal," really?

After feeling lost since Grampa was in the hospital, then in the process of mourning his passing, I've been trying to get back to normal and I realized that I really don't know what that would be. So I've just returned to my "normal" work schedule, which is different each week, and have dived back into life. My.... "normal" life.

Which has thus far consisted of:

Having my coworker ask someone to put their digital camera away yesterday when he caught the man taking pictures. I believe people aren't really allowed to take pictures here without getting permission ahead of time, so that's why he did so. Then when I went on my hour break, a man approached me and asked if he could take my picture. I figured it was the same man from work, so I wasn't surprised and I kept walking down the busy pedestrian mall and said no. He lagged behind me and said, "Are you sure???" like maybe I was missing out on this great opportunity of having someone who I happen to know spends his free time doing drugs (the last time I hung out downtown on my break, he was fighting with a woman about his drug use) take a picture of just me. I told him I was sure I didn't want my picture taken by him on his camera.

Later, I told my coworker that whoever he talked to about the camera had approached me to take my picture. Then I described him. Turns out.... they were two different people. Is it normal for people to go around randomly taking pictures?? Is it normal for someone to be asked to have their picture taken by a creepy druggie?

Today, a band was set up on a street corner a couple of blocks from work. This is kind of a cool "new" for me. Last year, I didn't work downtown... actually, right about now, I was about to change positions at work to help start covering floods because, fortunately, I didn't work somewhere that was flooded out. Unfortunately, I also didn't work somewhere that was located somewhere super cool like I do now. So during today's break, I followed the sound of the funky music and decided to sip my soda and listen. Though sometimes, even if I'm by myself, I might feel like swaying a little or bobbing my head 'cause I am all about the dancing. But today I just wanted to prop up against a building and take in the chill music. So I found my spot, propped, and sipped the soda. A minute later, some woman danced her way right next to me, literally 6 inches away, and invaded my Chill Zone with her dance moves. Totally awkward. Totally ruined my zone. There is definitely a Personal Space Code and she definitely invaded mine with her dancing all by herself. Why didn't she join the others who were dancing by themselves in their spacious area? Normal?

Ruined.

I went to the Java House, grabbed a coffee and listened to the end of a singer's performance while I read emails on my iPod. Normal. For me.

Speaking of today, I also did that thing where you wake up and just chill because you know you set the alarm and it hasn't gone off, yet. I was happy that I had some extra time to really wake up and get some happy thoughts going in my head before my day really started. I didn't look at the clock, because I didn't want to know how early it was. I just wanted to wait for my iPod to tell me it was time to get ready. I laid around... and laid... and laid...... Finally I decided to peek at how very early it was. And I discovered that my iPod alarm had gone off a half hour before, but the volume was off! I was supposed to leave right at that exact minute to get to work right on time. So I threw clothes on, made the dog pee on a car, threw him in his kennel, parked in a parking garage instead of for free on a street a few blocks away, and got to work 15 minutes late, tripping up the steps and landing on a recent wound on my shin that ended up hurting for an hour. And dropping everything that I had to pick up on my way to the desk... twice.

Normal?

I don't think there is a normal. I think there is just life and you can choose to look at it and see the humor or whine about it.

Why on earth would a druggie want to take a picture of me? For all I know, he still took a picture of my butt, but I know it isn't posted on the internet 'cause he comes here to the library to use the computer. I've taken pictures of strangers, but my friends and I are discreet about it... we giggle and stand in front of the stranger and pretend we're taking pictures of ourselves. ;-)

I felt totally awkward standing next to the lady who decided to dance in my space, but I'm always thinking that people should bust moves in public, alone or not. I just need to be careful what I wish for, 'cause I don't want them to dance ON me.

I "slept" in, fell on my wound, dropped everything like the klutz that I am... I was a comedic movie this morning. But everything was all set for our patrons when they came in. No one would have known I was late if it wasn't such a good story for me to tell them... and if I didn't want some sympathy for the pain I endured for the first hour.

There is no normal for me to fall back into... just a life to move ahead with.

I Miss Him

For those who don't know, my grandfather passed away just over a week ago.

To just call him a grandfather seems so... well, it hardly defines what he was to me. He was my surrogate daddy, my buddy, an incredible part of my support system. When I was hurting, it showed in his face just how much he hurt for me and hoped I'd get better. When I was succeeding, he was so proud that it made me feel like I accomplished 10 times more than what I had just done. It didn't matter if it was just that I had (finally) learned to make a good pot of coffee. He made me feel like I had just figured out something brand new, better than anyone else could do. Of course, when I did bigger accomplishments, like a writing or television job, he made me feel like a huge deal. But when those didn't work out, he didn't make me feel like a failure. He made me feel hopeful.

He was always cold, so he often wore cashmere sweaters. My head hit perfectly at his shoulder, so when we hugged, I could snuggle right into the soft fabric and feel protected. I never wanted to let go.

He didn't like his smile, but seeing it and hearing his low laugh, often with a soft snort, just lit me up. His eyes would twinkle and the smile was usually there because I said something silly or because he was picking on me or my cousin who is my age.

He had many passions. Sports, rocks (he owned quarries), family, photography... but he told me that nature was his religion. He loved to take all of his kids, grandkids and great-grandkids out to his enormous farm for a day trip. And I loved going. He showed me how to appreciate every little detail and I always knew that when he was gone, that's where I would find him. In the lightest breeze, in a falling leaf, in a rolling hill, in the sunset, in fluttering butterflies... I know that's where I'll see him.

I'm so blessed to have had the love that he gave me. To think that I'm his youngest grandchild and I'm 26 and got to have him this long... and he was healthy and as active as a middle-aged man until the two and a half weeks that he was in the hospital... he didn't have to suffer. He never had to feel old. That's something he never wanted and started fearing. He golfed in March when we went to California, he went to his big farm every week until he went to the hospital. He never got old.

Take Five

Wow, I just... am the worst blogger ever! I haven't even been on here since I last wrote. Sheesh! It's that whole "sad things are happening and I don't want to write about sad stuff" problem. It's been a rough year. I keep wondering if a black cat has crossed my path or if I have walked under a ladder... all I can think of is that I walked in front of a black cat. I don't know what to make of that.

But still, I don't want to pour out The Sad on my blog. This is meant for entertaining stories or mundane thoughts that I turn into something huge. Perhaps something sentimental when I'm in the mood.

I think I would like to make an addendum to my last blog. I still felt incomplete, because, sure, a beggar yelled that I was still a good person when he asked for spare change and I pointed out that I didn't have my purse. But I hadn't done anything for him. It just made me feel validated enough to stop, turn around, and pathetically yell the most genuine, "Thank you!!"

So today, my brother and I had lunch downtown before I had to go to work and we still had another hour when we were finished. I had only drunk half of my soda and my brother wanted to go get coffee while we waited for my time for work to come. I will never turn down a chance at a latte, so since we were standing in Beggar Central and I spotted one of the regulars, I decided this was my shining moment. At first, I thought he was the beggar who feared me, then I remembered that he always wears bright clothes. This was a different one, but a regular, nonetheless. My brother knows the whole story, so I told him it was time for me, at last, to offer someone less fortunate something that I had. It took me a second to get the guts, because I didn't want to offend him, since he wasn't "on the clock" asking for anything. I also didn't want to be turned down again (Ah! Rejection!!). My brother sat back on a bench while I walked towards the man. I approached him with my soda reached out and said, "Do you want this? I'm just going to throw it away, otherwise." He said, "Yeah..." and took it then asked, "Do you have any smokes?"

So... while I finally accomplished my adolescent dream of giving something to someone who had less than I had, it really wasn't quite what I expected. Then again, I didn't really give him something nutritious or helpful, like fruit or new clothes. Just an unhealthy, half full (not half empty!!) cup of soda. But at least I didn't throw it away right there in front of a mall full of penniless people.

Maybe volunteering at a shelter would be more fulfilling than doing this on my own.

Meghan and the Beggar

Part One: Meghan Gets Inspired.

Once upon a time, Little Meghan was in middle school when a teacher told a touching story. See, whenever Meghan went to big cities with her dad and he was solicited by beggars for money, he just walked passed them and Meghan felt a little bad. She felt sorry for the homeless people and scared for them. How did they become homeless? Were they going to be okay? Some even told stories about being parents and needing to take care of their children. But Meghan's dad told her that he didn't know where the money would go. It could quite possibly go to drugs or alcohol and that's why he didn't give them money, so then Little Meghan understood.

But one day, her teacher told a story about living in the big city and running into a beggar. The beggar asked for money. Instead, the teacher went across the street to McDonald's, ordered a meal, and gave the meal the the beggar. The beggar appreciated that move so much that Little Meghan's teacher did this everyday. This way, the teacher was helping the beggar and knew how the money was being spent. Little Meghan dreamed that someday, she would be able to do the same thing.

Part Two: Meghan Makes Her Attempt.

Adult Meghan got a job in downtown Iowa City, where much of the city's beggars hang out. There is one in particular who caught Meghan's attention. On one very cold day, he was standing near her job repeating, "Can you help me? Anything will do." Meghan was in a hurry that day, but she knew she would see him again and she knew... this was the beggar for whom she would buy food... or maybe, because it was so cold, a cup of coffee.

She saw him a few times before her day came. He had actually changed his location on this day. She was in a different part of the downtown area, grabbing lunch, when she saw a beggar on one side of the street, and her regular beggar on the other side saying his line. She didn't really notice the beggar near her, since he wasn't saying anything. She was just planning her big move, the one she had been planning since middle school. She crossed the street to approach him. He said his line, "Can you help me? Anything will do." Meghan's heart swelled. The temperature was only 9 degrees and he wasn't even wearing gloves. Coffee was just what he needed. She smiled and said, "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

The beggar looked at her and scrunched up his face. It was as if she had asked if he wanted a worm sandwich with extra dirt. With the disgusted look still on his face, he grumbled, "no." Meghan wouldn't even have minded if he said that he didn't like coffee and tried to negotiate hot chocolate or maybe a pair of gloves. But the look on his face. The disgusted no. That's not at all what Meghan had imagined for 15 years! So she shrugged and said, "Okay, sorry." And continued to her car, feeling a little bad that she hadn't asked the other beggar if he wanted coffee.

Part 3: The Beggar Gets His

Seeing as how the beggar usually sets up shop outside of Meghan's job, it was inevitable that she would run into him again. A couple of weeks after their first encounter, Meghan grabbed dinner to go after work, then had to walk past her job to get to her car. There he was. Meghan noticed something different this time. The beggar had changed his lines to, "Can you help me? I'm getting hungry." He repeated this over and over, no matter how far people were. So when Meghan approached him and he asked her, "Can you help me? I'm getting hungry." Meghan responded, "Last time, you turned me down." and kept walking.

Part 4: The Beggar Knows Meghan

Meghan decided to take a walk on her break from work. It was another cold day, the beggar's favorite type to use to stand outside and beg. But Meghan really needed some fresh air and exercise. So she stepped outside of her job and there he was, a quarter of a block away, using his new line. "Can you help? I'm getting hungry. Can you help? I'm getting hungry. Can you help? I'm getting hungry." He continued this and right as Meghan approached he said, "Can y-- *gasp*" He stopped himself for a minute until Meghan had walked several steps away. Then he continued on.



This isn't really what I imagined myself doing. I have a warm heart and saw myself trying to help those in need. Of course, when I look in his face and see his messed up lip, I can see that he has a drug problem that probably got him in this situation in the first place. But I wasn't exactly aiming to make people in need fear me. My goal was to choose a person in need and do a good deed. Help them stay warm, or get nourishment or something. I'm known for being kind. What went wrong??

How Do You Pack for a Hospital Stay?

So next week, I will be staying at the hospital for a test called a VEEG. I've had one before, so I'm not very scared. The first time, I was terrified and wanted my mom with me 24/7, the poor thing. Every time she got up to go get some food or just get a break and go home for a while, I would cry the moment I saw her get ready to stand. This time, I realize that it isn't a trip to Jamaica, but I don't need to subject anyone else to the hospital for such long hours.

Basically, wires are attached to my head and a camera is watching me, so I can't go much further than my bed, except when I need the restroom. When that happens, I'm not allowed to walk alone, because they're taking me off of all my medication and I'm going to have many seizures, possibly the type where I fall and am unconscious, though that didn't happen last time. So, the bottom line is that I won't feel well and I can't travel far.

When I pack for a vacation, I know exactly what to pack. I'm not an over-packer, so I pack an outfit for each day, pajamas, unmentionables, dressy outfits for each dressy occasion, make up, decide if I need more than one pair of casual and dressy shoes, toiletries, accessories and hair ties. Maybe a baseball cap for days when I don't want to do my hair. If I'm flying, my carry-on luggage has one magazine, pencils, a notebook and a drawing pad. And now, it'll have my iPod. The end. I'm set.

But what about this hospital stay? I know that I will wear pajamas and that the shirts have to button down. Oddly, though I have three pairs of pajamas like this, I cannot find the tops to two of them. This is curious, because I usually don't like the button down tops and just wear the pants with a t-shirt. So wouldn't the tops be in my drawers? Who stole my button down PJ tops?

Next on the list, I obviously need unmentionables. Then toiletries.

The hard part is figuring out what to bring to keep myself entertained. When it's a vacation, you are going somewhere to be entertained. For this, I need to entertain myself, away from home, confined to a bed.

I have to consider that at first, I'll feel reasonably fine. I don't feel the best these days, but I'm well enough to work, so I'll feel well enough that I'll want something to keep me busy... I could do crafts and read and draw. I was hoping I could write, but I've had a year and a half long writer's block, so I don't know about that. I'll want stuff do to if I'm feeling well, 'cause I don't really have the patience to watch TV all the livelong day. My iPod Touch has games and a movie on it... I specifically asked for it with the knowledge that I'd have a VEEG and perhaps other hospital stays and (hopefully) recovery from brain surgery.

But what happens when I start feeling withdrawls from my medication and the seizures kick in? Do I just listen to music on my iPod? Lay there and watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond? But what about during the day? I hate daytime television and when I don't feel well, I can't focus on reading. Maybe I'll feel so sick that it won't be hard to sleep. But one day, I have to stay awake for 24 hours. Is there anything good on TV during the day? Maybe some I Love Lucy on TV Land or something? Lucille Ball has saved me more than I could ever explain.

Maybe I should find an audiobook to put on my iPod for the part when I don't feel well. I like hearing stories when I don't feel well, but can't fall asleep. Yeaaaaah, that's a good idea.

So we've got drawing, crafts, reading, iPod games and some TV for when I'm feeling relatively well (once Oprah hits at 4, I'm good for TV for the rest of the day)... music, audio books, and naps for when I feel more sick. Now I think next week could possibly fly by. :)

If only I could find the button down tops of my pajamas. hmph.

The masterpiece that wasn't

The purpose of this blog is to help me keep up with the writing and sometimes to keep friends and long-distance relatives up-to-date on what is going on in my life... Mostly, I just want to get my talent for writing back. It's in here somewhere. It used to come so easily, then I stopped, and now it's difficult for me to write stories the way I used to.

So this weekend I was alone here at my home and thought I'd take the time to live how I used to, if I wasn't feeling to sick. Back in the day, on night's when I wasn't feeling sick, I did my homework (mostly writing) at my (former) favorite coffee shop downtown. They haven't done anything to bump themselves a notch from the favorite position. I've just gone to more coffee shops since those days and enjoy the others more. Anyway, so I thought I'd get all cozied up in a spot there, put pen to paper, 'cause I am NOT a computer writer.... everything always starts with a pen or pencil and eventually ends up on the computer... and see what masterpiece happened that I could edit and eventually send to someone.

So I went to the coffee shop. I ordered a latte and some baked good and found the best spot that I could. Unfortunately, the couches and plush chairs were taken. Those are my favorite spots, but you have to work with what's there. And what was there was a tiny table in the middle of the room. I sat my pink purse and my "creative bag" (read: black bag with the Beatles "Abbey Road" photo in silver on the side) on one chair and sat down in the other chair with my tasty coffee and chocolatey baked good in front of me. Around me, every other person, except for two ladies who were visiting, had an Apple laptop in front of them. No joke. But I still confidently pulled my notebook and pen out of my bag. We artists all have our way of doing our work, yes?

And mine began with being distracted by my coffee and the chocolatey goodness of the baked good. I could only write one terrible sentence before the baked thingy was gone. When that was finally out of my way, I slowly wrote another sentence, but I was distracted because the ladies who were chatting were speaking an Oriental language and it was so beautiful to listen to them say something I couldn't understand in such animated ways and laugh. I would wonder if they were talking about travel, school, boys, work, kids? But I tried to at least look like I was thinking about my writing. Then I actually did think about my writing and wrote a third sentence, but to write something well, I need to be very emotionally involved, and it's so hard for me to do that when I'm distracted by conversation and just as those women left, the man at the table that was practically connected to mine was joined by another man. So as I tried to talk myself into focusing to see if my sentences even made any sense, if they drew any emotion out at all, it turned out that these men spoke what appeared to be Spanish, but could have been Portuguese. Probably Spanish. They had an animated conversation and after a while, words like muchacha and bonita were being thrown about as I noticed they were looking at me, but trying to act like they weren't.

By then, my masterpiece wasn't going to happen. I couldn't stop eavesdropping on conversations that I couldn't understand and eventually getting paranoid that these foreign languages, as beautiful as they both sounded, were all about me.

So I got four sentences of a poem done, then started writing a letter before I finished my coffee.

Me with my striped notebook, surrounded by people with their wireless internet accessible laptops. Am I the only one under 40 who is attached to notebooks?

In just one year...

So much changes in just one year. One year ago, the husband and I had rented our house out and were living with my mom hoping to get awesome jobs in an awesome city that wasn't too far from home base, preferably Iowa City. I had been feeling the best that I thought I'd ever feel and figured it was time to get started on my career, so I was applying in television, radio, public relations and marketing in every city from Springfield, IL to Omaha, NE.

I got many responses from many cities, then had to think if I actually wanted to live in such towns as Mason City or was I just applying to get the "Sorry, we don't want you"'s out of the way and find my way towards "We love ya, when can you start?"

The goofiest job interview was definitely in Springfield. It was for "promotions." The way it was described, I was going to be promoting child safety at big events in great locations, sometimes traveling to Chicago to give the presentations! It took three interviews to get this job, so I knew it had to be quite the big deal. It was the first interview where I was told about the events and that our main goal was to get the word out about child safety... and that if I was good enough, I could even be the manager of a new business in some awesome city (California, anyone?) within a year. This was sounding good and they called me back for the second interview.

I was all dressed up and ready to help give a presentation at the event. I was to job shadow someone, and then halfway through, start doing the presentation, myself. I was pretty confident. I gave thousands of presentations in college and if I caught on to what we were doing for the parents of these kids, I knew I could feel passionate about it. I was told that the event was about an hour away... and halfway there, I decided to ask exactly where we were going. A college hall? A hotel ballroom? Were they providing the computer for the slideshow? Did we have the free helmets and car seats and the information about how to use them properly?

Um.

The "event" was at the front door of Home Depot. Our "promotion" was to sell fairly unnecessary items (read- mugs and stickers) to anyone using whatever technique we could. Guilt, dancing, singing, flirting, it didn't matter. Worst of all, 80% of what we sold was the paycheck, but it looked like we were donating 100% of the money to a charity for children. It really felt like I was selling my soul to get people with hearts who really didn't want the items, but didn't know how to say "no" because they thought all of their money was going to help a charity, not just a small portion. It felt terrible. By the end of that "interview," the person I was shadowing was in love with me. She kept saying I did a great job (insult?) and that she wanted me to come back for a third interview. As much as I wanted a "real" job, I also wanted an honest job and told her that I couldn't see myself doing that. She truly didn't see what was wrong with it. She even thought she could retire in her 30s because she worked 6 days a week, 12 hours a day... but when I calculated what she made in a year, she makes what the average person makes... there'll be no extra early retirement for that girl.

But a week after that, I got my dream call. A television station wanted me to work for them in the traffic department. I had no clue what that meant, but if a door was going to open at a TV station, I wanted to slip my foot in there. I'd wanted that since I was 10 or 12. I had an interview set up, and right as I was about to take off for it, I got a call from SHARON saying that a "family emergency had come up" and she couldn't meet with me. I suspect now that her baby was sick. We moved the interview to the following week and everything felt right straight from the beginning. I met with both of the traffic managers from Fox and CBS, because they are a family here in the Iowa City viewing area, and SHARON carried the interview. My favorite part is that they were going under new management, so the interviewing process was new to her. She was supposed to ask specific questions that were written down and she did precisely that with a pause after each word and then she'd look up at me proudly and expectantly. I felt relaxed in the presence of her and the other manager and felt like we hit it off from the moment we met. As soon as we left the interview, I got in the car where my husband and mother-in-law were waiting, because we were apartment shopping that day (Kevin had just learned that he had a job, so we were definitely moving, whether I got the TV job or not) and I shrugged and said, "I think I got the job."

Twenty minutes later, Sharon called and said, "The thing is... we like you and want to hire you." We worked out a few specifics and I was set to begin my first job in television. That was a year ago in March. By April, I worked in traffic, which, by the way, is basically making television run smoothly... assigning commercials to the client's specifications and preventing dead air... and I also worked as a production assistant for the noon news, which was my actual dream job. When 11:15 came around and it was time for me to prepare for that job, I couldn't have been more pleased. I thought I rocked the headset pretty well, the director and anchor were awesome and we were always dancing and singing in the studio. Those are memories I'll always keep.



By June, things got pretty rough. The flood hit and I was suddenly doing more production than traffic and before I knew what was happening, I was told that we were starting a morning show and I was the production assistant for it. We had no one else to be PA, so we had other people from other departments do the things that I couldn't do from the floor. With the flood closing the interstate, the director, a commercial producer and I drove crazy routes starting at 2 AM just to get to work and start a show at 5 AM and finish everything by 1 and get home by 2:30ish. When the Interstate opened up after the flood, we could leave closer to 3 and be home by 1:30...

... but my health was not happy. It wasn't very happy when I started working 40 hours, anyway, but I ignored it as much as possible by going to bed by 8 and hardly moving on the weekends. But when I had to be asleep at 6 PM, up around 2:30 and under more pressure for a show that we were doing on the fly without enough staff, my health couldn't take it. I didn't want to admit that it was too much, but I finally did and left my job. That was the hardest thing I had to do in 2008. What was harder is that it left me wondering what I really want to do with my life. I had a good experience there. I loved who I worked with, I did what I always dreamed I would do, but I didn't feel complete. I'm going through that thing I think a lot of 20-somethings go through where you try things and discover they aren't what you thought and need to try something more to discover more about yourself until you discover who it is you really are and what it is you truly love.

After a break in the summer to get my health back on track as much as possible, I took one of the most laidback jobs you can imagine. I'm tucked in a far back wall of the library and help people get study rooms, computers, and I keep the magazine area clean. When someone has a problem and they're stressing me out, it is my job to send them to someone else to take care of it. I work parttime with a great group of people and never feel stressed out there. I get plenty of rest. Everything my brain demands.

By fall, I discovered that this isn't the best that I can feel. There's a chance that I can feel better, and that chance is brain surgery. It rolls off the tongue now, but it used to be scary to say. I don't know, yet, if I'm a candidate, but in a couple of weeks I will begin undergoing tests to see if I am. Best case- I am a candidate, I'll have the surgery, I'll spend months in recovery and I'll be a new girl with new opportunities placed in front of her. Worst case, I'm not a candidate, but we can try treatments that I haven't been made aware of that could improve my life a little more and I will peruse opportunities that best fit the lifestyle that I have so I can feel like I'm living life to the fullest even if I'm not the typical 26 year old.

I had no clue I'd be doing this one year ago. I was just hoping to move out of my mom's house to a bigger city doing a careery job that I loved. I wonder what I'll be doing in January 2010?

Like Football Fans, Like Penguins

So I grew up surrounded by boys who loved football, so I sort of get how it works. The sport isn't just a sport. It's life. Watching your team play is an emotional experience. And watching how other teams you don't support play each other matters because how they do inevitably effects how they'll do when they play your team. Got it. And fans watch these games on various days of the week at home, friends' homes, (sometimes at work, as I've witnessed), and bars.... right?

Right??

That's what I used to think. Then Kevin, who doesn't even watch his own favorite football team play, and I went shopping at the mall this week. We had wandered from one side of the mall to the other, in and out of stores, without incident. After Kevin grabbed some food, it was time to wander on back to the side of the mall that we had originally entered. This time, however, something very strange happened. Something I've never witnessed before.

A crowd of 20 men were standing outside of Victoria's Secret, staring, not in the store, but in my direction. I've had a lot of attention from the gentlemen lately, so naturally, I thought, "Oh, I've got this," handed my purse to Kevin and swayed my hips up towards the men to give them what they wanted. Ha, okay, not really. But they were grouped together at a Qwest stand, staring in our direction and I didn't know what could possibly be that intriguing that all these men had to stop at the stand and stare.

I had seen something similar to this once before. It was at the St. Louis Zoo in the penguin exhibit. One penguin would find a random spot and just stand there with it's wings spread back. Then two more penguins would join it and stare off in the same direction and spread their wings back. Then another penguin would join... and two more... and another.... until the space was filled and they were all staring at the same space.

But we're people. We don't often just gather with strangers and stare at nothing. So when Kevin and I passed them, we casually looked at what they were gaping their mouths at and it turned out that there was a television on the stand and on the television was a football playoff game. Some bird team against some mythological Greek thing. Apparently, only seconds were left in the game and they were tied. This was enough to stop nearly two dozen men in the middle of the mall... even my husband who doesn't even watch his fish team at home. I didn't know what to do. They were so into this, I felt like running down to the food court and getting nachos and soda for everyone. There was "OOOH"-ing and "AH!!"-ing. It just seemed so out-of-place. You do that in your cozy basement or at the bar. Not at a Qwest stand.

The moment the tie was broken and the seconds of the clock ticked away, everyone wandered away, as if these strangers hadn't just spent several minutes of their lives bonding over the bird team and the mythological greek guy tackling each other. It was as if they truly didn't see the oddity of the situation. I stared at my husband in quiet awe for five minutes afterwards, expecting an explanation.

Why doesn't he watch his "favorite team" at home or with buddies, but he was moved to join the strangers to watch two teams he doesn't care about, as though he were a penguin joining other penguins as they stared off in space??

The Day My Car Burst into Flames

Hello, Fine Readers.

I'm sorry it has been such a long time since I have blogged. December was a lot crazier than I ever could have imagined, and it went out with a bang, as I'm sure most of you have heard. But, for the sake of memories, I'm going to describe in detail what happened.

So Kevin went home for Christmas on the 23rd, because he didn't have to work on Christmas Eve, like I did. He took Logan, the gifts he bought and, obviously, his own stuff. He used my car because we consider his Toyota to be the "safe" car in the winter. It's heavier and handles wind well and we knew Christmas Eve was going to be windy with blowing snow.

I just worked until 1 on Christmas Eve and had my car all packed so I could leave straight from there. In the car, I had a few days' worth of clothes, plus all of the fixin's to get ready for the day (hair dryer, make up, hair straightener that I recently bought, etc), meaningful accessories, all of the presents I had packed for everyone, Christmas cards that I was going to hand out and send late (seriously, it was a crazy month...). On top of this, Kevin's car had almost every single one of my CDs, plus he might as well live in his car. He had his whole weight set in there, our camping gear, sleeping bag, a friend's blankets... really random things.

This said, I hit the road to go home. With the weather so windy and snow blowing all over, I told myself what I always say when I'm driving during that time of year- Nothing bad can happen to you if you're listening to Christmas music. So I popped in my Jessica Simpson CD, first, and got down to O Holy Night as I drove. After a bit, I was tired of her music and threw Mariah Carey's Christmas CD in. Soon afterwards, the car started making a grinding noise in the front. I was confused, obviously, because the Toyota has never given us any trouble. We brag about that. To resolve the issue, I turned the music up louder so I couldn't hear the noise and figured I'd just mention it when I got home. Then I noticed that the RPM was going from 2-4 repeatedly, but I also ignored that 'cause my first car (shout out to Chelsea who had a nearly identical car!!) did that all the time. Just as I soothed myself about how my first car did that, I heard a POP in the back, which called my attention to the rearview mirror.

I saw flames shooting out the back of my car.

Fortunately, no one was tailing me or anything. I slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder. As I did this, my car slid so that the trunk was facing the highway. That was a little frightening, but all I could think was, "Get out of the car. Get out of the car." So I automatically grabbed my purse and keys and got out. As soon as I did, I saw that a nice man about my age had pulled over behind me. My first instinct was that he was going to be mean and scary and steal me. So before I let my real instincts about him go through, I called the Iowa State Patrol, because Kevin made sure YEARS ago that I had them programmed into my phone. I happened to be right next to a sign saying what the next exit was and told the lady that I was the only person in the car and where it was. Then the man asked if I just wanted to get out of the freeeeezing cold while we waited for the cops to come and my instinct was that he had no intention of stealing me. He was actually, like... how do you say.... kind hearted.

While we waited, another man pulled over. At first, I thought he was part of a rescue crew, because I didn't see his car, but he was dressed in emergency gear. He was an innocent bystander who was all set to go in my car and save anyone who might have been stuck in the evergrowing fire!! I absolutely could not believe the heart and bravery this man had! I waved him over and told him that I was the only passenger and I didn't have so much as a scratch. To be honest, when I got out of the car, my biggest worry was that I was going to fall, because I'm a huge clutz, and I didn't even lose my balance. To this man, I didn't even think saying, "Thank you for attempting to save the lives of strangers who would have been my dearly, intensely loved ones while risking your own life" was enough. How do you thank a stranger for that??

When he was safely back at his car another stranger pulled up. He was such a man. First, he wanted to make sure everyone was out of the car, which was, obviously, incredibly nice. He had been driving on the other side of the interstate and turned around. Once I assured him that I was the only one in there, he exploded with, "THAT WAS AWESOME!!! THAT WAS... THAT WAS AWESOME!!! I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT!!! THE FLAMES WERE GOING OUT FOUR FEET ON EITHER SIDE OF YOUR CAR!!!" Then, although we were already several yards back from the car, he suggested we back up several more feet in case the car was to explode. He then returned to his truck.

Soon after, a lady pulled up in her van. She jumped out and had the most worried look on her face. I got out of the man's car and waved to her and shouted that the car belonged to me. She sighed a huge sigh of relief, saying that she was wondering why no one was near the car, helping and now understood it was because I was already out. She asked if she could hug me, 'cause the fire had scared her so much and when we hugged, she asked if I had my purse. By then, everything was so overwhelming, that I couldn't remember. But I looked back in the man's car and saw that I did.

We waited what felt like an hour, but was maybe five more minutes and the firemen and state patrolman pulled up. I hugged Ruben, the man who had let me sit in his car, and went to sit in the state patrolman's car while I watched the firemen put out the flames.

For most of the time, the reality hadn't hit me. It felt like I was watching a movie. But when I decided it was time to call Kevin and tell him what was going on, it really hit me. I suppose because that was when I had to live in the moment and describe what I was seeing. Flames engulfing his car. We call everything "ours," but to me, this really was his because he bought it before we were married. His first "grown up" purchase as soon as he started his career and I couldn't believe I was watching it go up in flames. And at that moment, I was also just thinking of all the gifts I had for everyone and how I wouldn't have anything to give anyone. As more time went on, I realized all of the belongings that we lost, mainly the things that I packed for my stay that had meaning to me. One was a necklace that my aunt bought me in Texas just last March. She let her daughters and me each choose a piece of jewelry that we wanted and it was such a hard decision, but the necklace that I chose was so meaningful and the design was so "me," but the memory of feeling like a sister with my cousins while we chose our jewelry was priceless... and I guess that also means the memory doesn't burn up in flames, even if I don't have the necklace. Another was a gorgeous silk scarf from my godmother. Another was the duffel bag, which was from my Grampa. I've been attached to it since the day he gave it to me. There were also CDs that people have made just for Kevin and me, sand that Kevin and I collected on each trip to the beach where he proposed... the list goes on, but like everyone says, "Things are replaceable, Meghan is not." I'm so blessed that I wasn't even scratched by the door that day, let alone so much worse.

Not only did those strangers have the heart to stop and make sure I was okay, which I found so heartwarming... my coworkers and supervisors at work got together and chipped in some money over the past week. They surprised me with a check big enough to replace the expensive things that I lost in the fire and use daily- a hair dryer, a hair straightener, and there might be some left over for a pair of pants. I was so touched I couldn't find the right words to thank them. I think the best way to thank them will be to do something equally kind when I meet someone who has gone through something difficult and could use a little help.

Pay it forward.