All dressed up in love...

And it's going to be one fun-filled exciting day!

Yesterday, since my nephew and niece are here, I got a call to meet them for lunch, a trip to the Bellagio Buffet, in which, I never eat at buffets (because they're so cliché here), but I have to say the one at Bellagio is first rate. We sat and grazed.  LOL, yes, but it's ok that I graze...my metabolism loves it.  From fresh California Rolls, salad with balsamic vinagrette, and an oodle of fruit to flank steak, button mushrooms, truffle infused ravioli and a itty bitty spoonful of Key Lime Pie, I was stuffed to the gills.

Then it was off to the mall.  Nan needed to pick up a little something for the man who actually grants Christmas wishes...her groom, the wonderful Carl.  So, with Ryan, Caitlynd and I in tow, we buzzed around the Meadows Mall for a good two hours, followed by another grazing session at my sisters after Nan and Carl picked up their marriage license.

While Nan and Carl were out doing the marriage license thing, I got to hang out with my sweet boy and sweet girl.  Sitting listening to them laugh together and talk, I realized that I am so lucky.  I'm so very fortunate to have young people around me like the two of them, and KP's three darlings, Drewbie, T.J. and Kai.  My heart felt like it was going to pop with how much love I felt for them.

Well, while we waited for them to come back, Cait, Ryan and I attacked Pac-Man on PS3.  (Yes, my very cool big brother has a PS3, with the Playstation Move, be jealous...) I found that Pac-Man has evolved.  Yes, yes, it's been 30 years since that little yellow guy started eating pellets, but let me tell you, they 'roided that little sucker up!  They gave him bombs and ghosts that sleep around every corner.  Pass the ghost, it wakes up and starts the chase.  Instead of randomly zooming around the board, they all just try to chase you down.  Cries of "Whoa!," "Yikes," "Criminy!" and so forth were being hollered out as we ducked, dodged, and weaved to get the little yellow guy eating those pellets and power ups so Pac-Man could have his graze too.  We laughed for a good hour just playing that, dodging Wrecks the Doberman's mustard gas farts (remember the Jeff Dunham skit "Achmed the Dead Terrorist?" yeah, Saddam's mustard gas has nothing on a Doberman fart...), and Nan's little fox terrier mix Zoe hopping from person to person looking for attention the entire time.  So it was all Pac-Man, dogs and laughter.

When Nan and Carl got back, they brought enough food with them to feed an army.  Veggie trays, cheeses, summer sausage, macaroni salad, chips, dip, you name it, they had it.  The funniest part is when Nan broke out a Carrot Cake, in which Cait and I had tried the Bellagio Buffet's Carrot Cake at lunch and promptly pushed it away, saying "Um, no," because they had fooled with the Carrot Cake recipe, adding some kind of orange flavoring to it, making it taste terrible.  As Cait said, "You don't mess with the Carrot Cake."  So as Nan pulled it out, Cait and I broke into peals of laughter.  We commenced to graze again and play Brunswick Bowling on the Playstation Move.  After bowling and grazing, it was time to head home because I have a very big day today.

My alarm, believe it or not, hasn't even gone off yet.  I sacked out at 12:30 last night, OMG, say it with me, that's friggin' early for me to be sacked out, but let me tell you, after all of the activity yesterday, I was wiped out.  As soon as I turned out the light and my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.

I turned over this morning to my clock that read 8:07 a.m. My alarm was set for 9 a.m. so I'm already an hour ahead of schedule.  And am I glad.  It's giving me time to write and do my other little buzzing around before I hit the showers.

Today's schedule is something to see.  At 11 a.m., I'm off to get my hair done, then at 1 p.m., I'm due over at MAC at the Forum Shops to get my make-up done.  Now, the trip to MAC is going to be a real treat.  When the news came down that Nan was getting married, we all were excited, but nothing was more exciting than Nan looking at me and asking about a trip to MAC to be done up.  I had told her about my trips to MAC to have my face done and she always laughed, but this time she looked at me and said, "Can you call them and set me up an appointment?"  I nearly keeled over.  I jumped on it so fast, I had dialed the number and made the appointments (I'm going too) and then gave Nan the appointment time 15 minutes later.  So, today at 1 p.m. Nan and I will be sitting side by side in the make-up artist's chair.

Now, why is prospect of sitting next to my sister for the make-up so incredible?  Well, when I was a kid, Nan used to sit me up on our bathroom counter top and she'd put make-up on me. I personally think I was her practice mannequin so she could see what would look good on her... Every time I'd flinch or make a face, she'd pinch me and say, "Sit still!"  So I learned how to sit like a statue for make-up application.  Every time I've been to MAC to be made up, they have always commented on how still I sit.  Now Nan is going to hear first-hand how well she trained me to do it.  I was really tempted to tell the make-up artist at MAC to pinch her every time she'll flinch, but I passed on that.  But to sit next to the beautiful Nan, my childhood idol, the arbiter of good taste, fashion and style, and have our make-up done together?  A childhood dream come true.  So, get ready MAC, the Sisters are coming to see you!

Between games of Pac-Man last night, I told Caitlynd about what Nan and I were going to do with our make-up.  I pulled up the MAC website on Nan's laptop and showed Cait the make-up.  I finally came clean about what they think are my extravagant tastes...the reason I have make-up consultations, personal shoppers for clothes and so forth is because I have no earthly clue what looks good on me.  I'm serious, I'm a fashion accident waiting to happen and if I didn't have make-up folks to pick out what colors for me to wear, a colorist to get my hair just right, clothiers to dress me so I don't look like a total goober walking out my front door, I'd look like a train wreck.  I have almost zero style of my own and horrible taste in clothes, so I need a lot of help.  That's where the shoppers, make-up artists and stylists come in.  When I've got money, I've got an army of folks just so I won't look like a fashion accident.

I explained my make-up choices to her.  My face, for its aged imperfections, is still holding up pretty good, my complexion is clear but I'm a little dry in some places and oily in others.  The dryness is from my Hashimoto's Thyroidits, the hormone imbalance reeks havoc on my skin, making it dry and flaky.  So, to counterbalance it, I wear lots of moisturizer (and when you live in the desert that's a must anyways) and as a base, I don't even wear foundation, I wear a very nice powder from Clinique on top of the moisturizer to keep it light.  When I have lots of money to throw around, I go to Prescriptives and pick up a $35 tin of Magic Powder which feels like water on the skin when you apply it.  It's super hydrating, so with a combination of moisturizer, sunscreen and that powder, I've got a face that's got plenty of moisture without being too much.  Then, I add in the MAC color Blushbaby to my cheeks, then Shroom, Cork and/or Coquette on my lids (applied with a brush, NEVER sponges, sponge applied eyeshadow ewwww...), then finish it off with Clinique's black cake eyeliner (you add water to the brush, then take the amount of color you want off of the cake and apply it) and mascara, followed by just a hint of MAC's Butterfly eyeliner around my bottom lid to emphasize my eye and take attention away from the circles beneath them.

Well, when Cait saw everything and I told her about how fantastic the MAC make-up was (it's the equvalent to wearing a Prada, Coach or Dooney and Burke handbag), she wanted to go with us, so I called up the store and made her an appointment for 2 p.m.  She'll hop into the chair when Nan and I get done.  Poor Cait, she's stuck living in the sticks and the closest good make-up they have is Merle Norman...*personal shudder*...so she is all sorts of hip on sitting in the chair at MAC.

To be honest, I'm looking forward to my personal consultation today...the combination of Shroom/Cork/Coquette/Blushbaby was prescribed for me a good 15 years ago...I want to see what an update they're going to give me or if what I'm wearing still works.  I told Cait about what a nightmare my face was before I took it to MAC.  I was wearing purple eyeshadow and applying with a sponge applicator (some sponge eyeshadow applicators can damage the tissue around the eye, causing wrinkles & other problems)...go ahead cringe with me...it did NOT work on my face back then.  Who knows what they're going to do with me now.

And talking about MAC, I've got to give a shout out to my buddy Mejan, who also has sat in the chair at MAC for an application...hugs to you Mej, I'll be sitting in the chair thinking of you!

The consultation/application will cost us $50 a piece, but it's a small amount compared to what we'll look like coming out of those chairs. To boot, we'll get a free mascara out of the whole deal, so that's good. The whole thing that I cautioned both Nan and Cait on is that they'll try to sell you stuff (I mean come on, they've got to take their opportunities...it's ok, it's the nature of commerce).  The most important thing, when you sit down for something like that is that you keep in mind what you need and what you don't need.  Take for example my concealer.  I use a Clinique concealer because the color is better and I prefer the coverage.  MAC concealer doesn't come in the right shades/coverage for me so I prefer a different brand.  The Clinique soap, moisturizer and clarifying lotion I use has been going on my face since I was 13, and it works well for me, I get comments a lot that I look like I'm in my mid-30's when I'm sneaking up on 40, so something's right...so I don't need foundation, powder or anything else outside of what I use from MAC or Clinique.  I go to MAC purely for the eyeshadows, blusher, lipliner, lipstick and mascara I use, the rest comes from Clinique so I only get what I need, not what they say I should get, keeping the expense down and getting more bang for my buck.  I put Cait in on the skinny...that a color palette from MAC will last a good 3 to 6 months, at $11 a refill, you're looking at $22 a year on the outside for one color...which is not bad.  Other eyeshadows have to be reapplied and touched up over a days wearing...MAC doesn't.  If you apply it right, it'll stay on all day without being cakey or overdone.  *Swoon*  I love MAC.

So, three girls with three fresh faces will be coming out of MAC at 3 p.m. When we get done, it's off for a snack and time to get dressed because at 6 p.m. Nan walks down the aisle.  I have to say, this is sure a nice change from Nan having to go through chemo.  She's so excited.  I mean, think about it, Carl is one heck of a guy, he's seen her through her mastectomy, chemo and the gamut, the guy is a total keeper.  Besides, I'm a bit greedy...I get a big brother today and I'm thrilled to pieces!

I'm wearing the suit I wore to my nephew's wedding, so I'm ready to go as soon as the other stuff is taken care of.   But, in all things, I have to say, I sure wish KP was here, I'd love it if he'd see me all fixed up like this.  I'd love to knock his socks off like he knocks mine off every day.  Sorry, must have a KP swoon moment...*swoon* Besides, I'll be the 7th wheel today with no date, but it's ok, I'll wait.  I've been patient for the last year and a half, I can be patient some more.

OOH...look at the time!  Gotta go!  Time to hit the shower, grab a bite to eat and get over to the hair salon!

Oh, and for Cait and Nan, the song of the day is just for you...a tune which mentions MAC make up and getting all dressed up...Jennifer Hudson's "All Dressed In Love."

Addiction

This one is a tough one, but let's talk about it.  Let's just get it all hashed out.  I'm fed up with holding it in and not really getting at the true guts of why I'm an addict.  Just sufficed to say, being a person with depression, PTSD and a load of abuse over a long number of years, I was willing to do anything to stop hurting.  That's where my addiction comes from.  It comes from my brain being broken and having my coping mechanisms that are basically shot to hell.

Let's go with my most persistent drug.  Nicotine.  Yep, a smoker for 20+ years.  Why did I start smoking?  Because someone handed me a cigarette and taught me how to smoke it when I was 16.  After the coughing and choking incident that directly followed, I didn't pick up another cigarette for another two years.  On my 18th birthday, after seeing countless girls light up in the bathroom at the high school I spent my senior year at in Florida, with the implicit knowledge that it was forbidden by my parents, I went to the 7-11 across the street from the high school, bought a pack of Capri's, parked myself in the parking lot of the high school and I lit up and taught myself how to smoke.  Truth be told, Capri's are like smoking a tampon.  Little to nothing comes out of it, but, I wanted to rebel.  I had no inclination towards any other drugs, all I wanted to do was break the rules and declare my freedom.  Rebelling made all the emotional pain I was feeling secondary, so I kept smoking.

After that, I became a stress smoker.  If I felt stressed, I'd light up because the nicotine would calm me down.  Instead of separating my emotions from their root causes and the possible issues being reflected on me from the people who were causing the stress, I took the cigarette as my way of walking away from the issues causing me stress and it gave me downtime away from it.  Yep, there it is, in plain terms, I'm a runner.  If I feel attacked, if I feel abandoned, if I feel anything that causes me stress that I don't understand, I run.  If it's a conflict or abuse, I want to break into a full out run and get as far away from it as possible.  It goes back to Dr. Drew talking about how addicts, when they feel attacked or abandoned, put up a wall as if the people who are triggering them don't exist.  That's what the cigarette did.  It smelled, it made me smell and it kept people away from me.

As far back as I can remember, even as a little girl, I remember laying on my bed crying so hard I could feel my heart shattering into small pieces inside my chest.  It felt like my soul was being sucked out and leaving me completely hollow.   Everywhere I turned, it was ugly and mean and horrible.  Incessant yelling, incessant belittling, I never felt a pure source of love that didn't ultimately turn into pain.  I was always faced with the fact that if someone told me they loved me, they would always hurt me.  So I coped with how I felt by isolating myself.  If nothing came near me, then nothing could hurt me.  I would run away as far as I could to get away from the pain.  All I looked for was a safe place and a way to find peace.  I never found it.

Then, in my search for peace, things got out of hand.  If I couldn't run from the pain and I always woke back up from sleeping to the same horrible world, why not go to sleep permanently?  I remember my first suicide attempt.  I was 16 and I took a handful of aspirin.  Yeah, I wasn't too bright.  I ended up falling asleep.  My second attempt was a bit different.  I was 26 with tears sliding down my face and a butcher knife in my hands slicing at my wrists.  My roommate found me and they called 911.  I spent the night in a psychiatric hospital completely freaked out, with a nurse the next day telling me that I didn't do that bad of damage, that "I was only looking for attention."  When I told the psychiatrist at the hospital the next morning what the nurse had said, the nurse later came back, physically pinned me against a wall and threatened me with, "If you want attention, I'll make sure you stay in here for the rest of your fucking life."  No kidding.  I needed treatment and I got threats in its place which reinforced the whole idea that someone who was supposed to care would only be hurtful.

Then, since there was no way out, and I had failed twice at suicide, the next stop was drugs.  If I could have smoked it, snorted it or taken it in pill form, I did.  From pot to meth, cocaine to ecstasy, I shoved it in my body in hopes that my pain would go away.  I found quickly that coke did nothing for me, I was already hyperactive as it was, the meth scared the hell out of me because I love to sleep (another escape mechanism) and weed made me so loopy that it wasn't any fun because I couldn't remember the experiences I was having and I'd just end up asleep again.  The one drug that stuck with me was ecstasy.  Oh yeah.  That was my drug of choice for a while.  A friend of mine introduced me to it.  Now the kicker here is that ecstasy, or X, was developed to help people cope with PTSD, anxiety and depression...that's right, MDMA.  But, the kicker is, most X you can get on the street, since it's illegal, has been mixed with all sorts of other drugs.  Heroin was sometimes added, speed added to others...it was like playing Russian roulette every Thursday night.  I never knew what I was going to get, what the cut was going to be, but it was the goal of getting my hands on the MDMA that mattered.  For $20 a tab, I felt better, it supplied me with the peace I so long had sought.  There was no stress, only love, no anxiety, no feeling inferior or unwanted, just lights, dancing and fun with people who thought I was beautiful.  How easy of a sell is it to get addicted to that?  For someone like me, very.  It had a powerful hold on me.  I'd work all week long and just wait for my Thursday night so I could get high and feel "normal" in the sense that I could finally feel like everyone else did, with no anxiety, no pain, just happy and fun.  There was no pain, only ecstasy.  The problem was that with my high came a very large low life, who just happens to look exactly like Hayden Christensen (oh gods, I still have trouble watching the Star Wars prequels, they could easily be twins), that's why, while cute, Hayden Christensen will never be on my hotties list, no matter how anyone may beg.  Yep, he was an abusive boyfriend who cheated on me every chance he got, who manipulated me and beat me on a regular basis but I turned the other cheek because he was where the little pill came from that I could take and everything would be filled with joy as soon as I took it.  Yeah, right.  After finally being fed up with being held up by my throat against a wall for the bajillionth time, I wanted to be rid of him, and luckily for me at that time, my ex-husband had arrived on the scene.

The ex, for all of his shortcomings, before we got romantically involved, saw what was happening to me and he literally picked me up and put me onto the path to sobriety.  He saw me through detoxing, through the psychological hold the drug had on me and finally cleaned me up by helping me get rid of the low life.  He removed all of the physical negatives from my life, leaving me to only deal with the hardest ones to conquer, the psychological.  Every day, he would watch me in horrible destructive patterns, and every day he gave me a new positive focus for my energies.  Instead of staying up late, I had to get up early to teach school groups to kids.  He gave my creativity an outlet and a path to finding self-worth.  I have to give him props for that.  He was the first truly positive influence I ever had.  Truth told, he's still a positive influence.  Even though he's done some pretty horrible things to me, we've become friends.  I still call him up with good news about school (in one part to rub his nose in it, the other to hear the encouragement he never fails to offer) and my latest triumph, fitting into a very sexy pair of size 10 jeans.

But it's been a long road from shoving all that crap into my body to where I am now.  I still smoke.  That's the one thing I just can't quite seem to shake, but recently, my 10 years of sobriety has sat teetering on the edge again.  That's right, prescription meds and alcohol reared their head to play havoc on my addictions.  We know I have anxiety.  Trust me, if you had my life, you'd know why.  I suffer from it all the time, it's part and parcel of depression as well.  So, I bounce back and forth like a tennis ball on some days, and truth told, for the last eight months I've been unintentionally flirting with danger again.

Now, we all remember the horrid $11/hr job that was keeping me from school.  The fact that I was doing manual labor when all I wanted was to finish school and land one of those fancy, high paying jobs for doing what I seem to do best, write.  So, as you recall, standing shaking like a leaf in a doctors office, he substituted the Xanax I liked so much that eased my anxiety within its' prescribed usage without making me loopy or high,  with Valium.  But, here's the kicker, both drugs are in Dr. Drew's hated benzo family...benzodiazepines, which are ludicrously dangerous when mixed with alcohol.

Oh, let's just out and out say it, eight months ago when I was having a horrible panic attack, when I couldn't calm down, when the Valium by itself just wouldn't knock the edge off, I decided to have a drink.  Yep.  Go ahead.  Put your palm to your forehead and give me the OMG that just needs to happen.  What I didn't realize at the time was that I had just mixed a death cocktail and not even known it.  Sure, the pill bottle reads "do not take with alcohol," but when the pain inside is so much more than you can handle, you'll do whatever it takes to get it to stop.  So, when I found out how well it worked and how I felt better when I combined the two, I proceeded to knock back a Valium with booze when stress would even try to rear its head.  That went on for a good little while almost on a daily basis.

Then my chronic nightmares started popping up again, you remember the gruesome one I'm saddled with at the moment...I wrote about it just a couple of weeks ago...I'm not writing it out again, you go back and find it...the point is, that when I saw in the dream that the drug was the thing holding me together, I realized my sobriety was in serious jeopardy.  I had to stop everything.  The pill bottle is sitting on my desk looking at me, daring me to even touch it.  I was offered alcohol during the holidays and wouldn't touch that either.  It was at that point I realized that my addiction was being triggered in a really big way and I had to do what I do best when things like that happen, I had to shut it all down and get away from the things that were stressing me out and causing me to use.

I have issues.  As I've written before, stress = trigger.  Abuse = trigger,  inadequacy = trigger, the list goes on and on, but I realized at that point I needed to dig in and fix the triggers so that my addiction can't control me any more.  I have to control me.  The drugs don't get to have that part of my soul.  I'm not going to let it.  I've seen where that path goes and I'm not going there.  I'm out and out refusing to let my triggers control me.

So, over the last three months, I've been looking at what's triggering me first hand and being present in the moment.  There are times I do get uncomfortable when confronting the memories that are the root of my triggers.  Sometimes I don't do very well when dealing with them, but there's one thing I've not done and that's reach for either pill or booze bottle while doing it.  The last month has been some of the best work I've done in a while.  I tackled my inadequacy issues with my family.  Those are a work in progress and it's going to take years to really have that come together, but it's a step.  I've accepted my actions and their repercussions, I've apologized for a lot, that's another step.  I've recognized for the millionth time that abuse is a cycle passed from generation to generation and it's up to me to stop that cycle.

Being an addict is hard.  If someone telling you that kicking a habit of any type is easy, they're lying to you.  Life is not easy and I honestly don't think it is meant to be easy.  No one comes along and says, "When you're faced with X problem, this is how you cope with it."  No, you have to find your own healthy ways to cope.  When your coping mechanisms are broken, you have to research and read to find out what the healthy way is to do it and you try your hardest to emulate that and make it a habit, much like the drugs were.  I've started to replace some of my running habits with standing my ground and refusing to run from abuse, instead I face it and stop it in its tracks.  I'm formidable.  I had forgotten that.  All it took was the courage to stand up and say "no more."  The A's I've made in school were done sober and they are a testament not to how smart others think I am, but how smart I know I am.  That is a big step.  Who was it that said the un-tread upon path is often the harder one to take?  It is.  But I'm also realizing that abuse, and the issues of others that I so desperately try to fix aren't mine to fix in the first place, I made myself a dumping zone for others so I could forget about my problems and procrastinate fixing them.  I've found that people target me because I have a really big heart and that sometimes people are jealous or misunderstand the positive flow of energy that I try to keep going.  Other times, I just run foul of people who are just into things for themselves which goes contrary to where I'm going.  All that stuff is hard to weed through, it's hard to distinguish one from the other at times.

But, I'm sober.  The cigarettes are still hanging around though and I hate that stress still is making me use.  Nicotine is a drug, just like all of the others I've taken in my lifetime.  It's going to be the hardest battle to win. But until I get all of the other crap in my head taken care of, and learn proper coping mechanisms, maybe there will just be a day that I'll be able kiss all of my addictions goodbye.  I sure hope so.

It's like I always say, love is the only truth and worth sharing every day...especially with yourself.  You have to love yourself enough on the inside to make it through the tough moments on your own.  Only then can someone else love you like you want to be loved.  That's one thing I keep reminding myself of every single day.  I have to get better, I don't have a choice.  If I want to get somewhere in life, I had to do what I did when the ex hit the door, when I couldn't stand being beaten by an abusive boyfriend anymore, I have to pick myself up by my bootstraps and keep walking.  No one is going to do it for me, I have to love myself enough to do it for myself.

A couple of weeks ago, I went through a very tough night of having a racing mind that just would not let me sleep, much like now...but some little part of me rose up and said, "Give yourself peace, you're the only one who can."  That's when I realized that my search for it for the last 28 years has been futile.  Things are always in the last place you look, aren't they?  Like I always say, I don't have common sense to pee on, or maybe it just takes a long time to get there.

I hate being an addict.  I hate where it comes from, I hate it that my brain is broken.  Well, we did yoga...now, how about a good therapist.  Dicey proposition at best, especially with my healthcare provider who I've been calling for the last year trying to find a good shrink, but hasn't called back.  Well, if I got aggressive with my disease without a shrink this far, I'm doing ok, but I think I need to be a little more aggressive with those damn doctors so I can find a good one and get even better.

The spring semester starts in 10 days.  Personal Growth is on the schedule...it may be just the right thing at just the right time.  Cross your fingers for me, huh?

Raise your glass...

The last couple of days have been absolutely transformative for me.  I went from doubting myself 24/7 to having this overwhelming feeling of joy which is permeating everything around me with this incredible energy!

Ok, for you Myst Universe folks out there...this relyimah is doing the freaking happy dance.  Catch it this way in terms of the Book of D'ni...the Paar'li have been silenced and sent back to their homeworld and the linking book locked safely away with a do-not-disturb sign placed on the doorway and carved into the stone.  Ymur didn't even have to raise up and vanquish them.  Feel me?  There is a celebration happening right now the likes of which Yahvo has never seen.  If you're thinking in terms of the great kings of D'ni, the kidnapping plot has been foiled and the Loshemanesh Laws are in FULL EFFECT.  Now the Myst Universe folks are down with the scene...dance with me y'all...it's time to par-tay... Maintainers are on the scene ensuring safety and the world is a good and happy place.  If a Veovis-type person shows up to the party, they'll get to see bio-luminescent algae up-close and personal because I'm throwing them in the lake.

Ok, for you Myst civilians out there, let's just say that I've changed the rules a bit.  Yeah.  "A bit" is an understatement.  I decided to put my fate in my own hands and the response from all of my friends has been over-friggin-whelming.  When you make changes in how you view life, those who have known you a long time have one of two reactions to it, they'll either support it 100% or they'll give their criticism and let you know their point of view.  Well, those disagreeing with my latest change have stayed blessedly silent, either that or they aren't going to weigh in either way, which is very sweet and they get a thumbs up from me to just let the positive flow by not interrupting it with negatives.  However, the majority of my pals have been 100% supportive.

I broke away from my old guild.  I did.  I just decided to walk my own path.  It's like Barry said, if people aren't 100% on board with what you're trying to do, it's misguided.  I could have all of the noblest goals in the world, but if it was aimed at the wrong audience, it was all for naught no matter how noble.  So, I packed up my noble goals and decided to take Emerson's words to heart and cut my own path.  I figured it wouldn't do me any good to keep doing something that wasn't appreciated, wanted or wasn't fun (or healthy) for me.  So, being encouraged by a pal, I remembered Barry again when he reminded me it's ok to be a builder of empires, so with some help, I constructed my own guild, remembering that to build an empire, it has to have a strong base of humility, helpfulness and lots of love.  I figured that I'd be alone and that I could just relax and play on my own, no stress, no hassles, no answering to anyone but me...most of all, not having to leave my fate to someone who made me me miserable.

Well, I have to say, my screen doesn't light up in pink anymore except from folks from all over congratulating me and cheering me on.  A couple of people even whispered me, "Thank you for finally putting a stop to letting people use you..."  My jaw dropped on that one.  I hadn't thought of it that way before, but after the stories I've been hearing from people who are supporting me, I kind of feel guilty because I became this great welcome mat in my old guild that people just loved being around, and made them feel like they belonged there, but when they found out what was actually in the guild, they sat there miserable (like I did) or eventually bailed out.  After hearing how they really felt, I was overwhelmed with guilt.  I felt like I had lied to them, when the truth was, I was just being me, but I had to accept the fact that well, some folks in my old guild weren't like me at all.  They just used me to make sure everything held together like some crazy form of duct tape.

What shocked the ever loving hell out of me was that I thought I was going to be alone on my path, but it ended up completely the opposite.  My screen lit up in pink with nothing but whispers saying, "Take me with you."  Jaw drop again.  Wait!  I thought what I was doing was misguided!  Oh no...it gets better, over the course of the last 4 days, I've been bombarded with one sentence that is still shocking the hell out of me every time I hear it...

"I only stayed because you were there."

My jaw is STILL hanging open from that.  I really didn't think people were hanging around for me, I mean come on, WoW players are selfish and after the quickest route for loot, aren't they?  Weren't my efforts misguided like Barry said?   I mean, come on, I'm not that special...I'm sweet to people, I say "please" and "thank you", I give more than I take...and most of all I don't ask anyone to do what I wouldn't, following the "do unto others as you would have done unto you" golden rule.  Is that so rare?  Last time I checked, I burp, fart and go to the bathroom like everyone else and I definitely don't shit marble.  So why the hell did they want to come with me?

Seems as their first impression of me with my whole "guild mom" routine really resonated with them.  They felt like they were cared about and that sold them on the whole prospect of playing in my old guild.  But it seems as since I left, they don't want to be there anymore because I guess what I do, no one else did.  Hmm...putting it into that context, is what I did so misguided?  Yeah it was, because the hard truth is, I didn't belong there to begin with.  I'm just not cutthroat enough.

Now, here comes the thing that gets me, people are still coming.  They're transferring servers to be a part of my new little endeavor.  People came from out of thin air that I've known for a while and are asking for invites...they're talking to their friends to bring them along.  Out of nowhere, I've not even spent time talking to anyone, outside of two people who mean a lot to me, about the whole thing.  It's viral!  I'm not even making an effort and it's like a tidal wave coming in.  As soon as people found out what was happening, I've had nothing but whispers of support, e-mails, cheering, and all of the things I never in my wildest dreams thought would happen!  And they're all just coming in!  I'm blown away.  Just absolutely jaw-on-the-floor blown away.

Here's one more for the jaw drop list, I had someone send me money via paypal to pay for our vent server for the year.  I didn't even say anything and they just stepped right up and sent money!  I have folks volunteering for jobs like leading old world raids, organizing fun social events, I've had requests from people asking if they could become the guild tailor, alchemist, leatherworker, engineer, you name the profession and they've all stepped up and volunteered!  I didn't even ask!   They're just so on board with my whole philosophy of "greatness comes from a feeling of family," that they're going out of their way to make sure the folks are getting organized into five man heroic groups and gearing up, they're making each other gear, food, flasks and the guild bank is filling up with things for people to use!  They've all been actively collaborating with me and each other to create an organization that supports and succeeds because they believe in each other and would never dream of leaving anyone behind.

I. am. blown. away.  I thought I'd be alone, I really did.

Now what I did put a halt to is what I found out about last night, which is one of them, in their zealous support, had been talking to a few people from my old guild to try to get them to come over with us.  When I heard that, I about flipped.  I put my foot down and said a resounding "NO MORE" to them.  I told them, "Look around.  Is there anyone here that has been recruited?  No, there's not, everyone that can see our guild chat is here of their own free will.  If other folks want to come along, they'll whisper us, so don't bother anyone in our old guild anymore.  Our old guild was kind to us and I want them left alone, they've already taken enough losses.  We're not desperate for people, we've got plenty of folks here already to do any number of things, so you let them alone.  And that goes for everyone.  You leave those poor souls alone, they're playing the way they want to, so just as you want to have fun, you let them have theirs.  The choice to stay or go is theirs and theirs alone, we should not be any sort of influence in their decisions, they're adults, they can make up their minds on their own.  As I respect them, we should all do them the same service, no matter how you feel about what happened to you or me or whomever.  We all have friends, we're all social, but don't you DARE try to recruit anyone, we're a guild of free will and folks who WANT to be here and it's going to stay that way.  If they want in, they'll let us know."  So after stamping out my first fire, everything went back to business as usual with a stern warning to the individual who took it upon himself to go try to get people.  I thanked him for the effort, but reminded him it wasn't appropriate and not how I do business.

After all that, we headed off to organized five man heroics.  Bosses fell, people picked up gear, things were placed in the guild bank and it was very awesome listening to people talk freely, constructively offering solutions and working together for a larger purpose.  We had our moments of wiping, but it was such a unique experience...everyone exercised a level of patience and perseverance like nothing I had ever seen.  After a wipe, it was a breakdown to even the smallest of spells and abilities to try to get the pull right.  Instead of just one or two people discussing it, everyone did.  There was no blame, no calling people out, just constructive suggestions and adjustments.  Sure enough, with everyone communicating and even a lecture on "hold your nut" for those really crazy DPS folks who love to pull aggro and rage starve a tank, it started clicking in a huge way.  I walked out of the instances just blown away on what a beautiful sight a group of people who WANT to play together and have a common goal look like.  My jaw is still hanging open.

What I still can not get over, besides the fact that it's snowing in Vegas right now...is that all of those people followed me.  I mean, I figured maybe, on the outside and at the most, one or two would want to tag along...but not on the scale I'm experiencing.

It's amazing what happens when people feel wanted, valued and supported.  I told them, a guild is like a house, we have to have a solid foundation of trust and acceptance.  Everyone here has their own innate nutritional value they bring to the table and have abilities that will amaze us if we just give it a chance.  The walls will be decorated with love, respect and fun.  And, if I hear anyone maliciously telling someone else they suck, they're out on their ass.  At which point, they all commenced to tell each other they sucked in a very joking way.  *facepalm*  Which made us all burst into laughter because we all know that we don't suck and we know how to play.

Wow, to go from negative to positive...it's like the sun has broken through the clouds...if it doesn't last forever, I'm cool with it, but this has got to be bar-none one of the most positive experiences I've ever had.

Ok, on that note, as I raise my glass to all of the darling souls who have been giving me nothing but positive energy and support, let's boot up the newest addition to the soundtrack, P!nk's "Raise Your Glass."

Shrinkage...

Ok, I have to stop for a quick moment to be thrilled with something...

Apparently, and yes, this is a Captain Obvious moment, getting going under your own power and making things happen for yourself agrees with not only the mental aspects of life, it also impacts the physical as well!

Forgive me as I jump up and down...but I got on the scale today...144 pounds...which totals 31 pounds that I've lost since my ex left, and it's 4 pounds gone over the last two months!

*Happy Dance*

Since everyone gripes about gaining weight during the holidays, how the heck did I manage to lose weight during the most food intensive time of the year?  No clue...but I'm happy about it!

Finding the right path

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

Yesterday's battle of the psyche came from the fact that people and things have been bouncing up and down on my addiction/depression triggers like a very springy trampoline.  Every time I turn around, someone is hitting a trigger that makes me want to reach for my Valium bottle, but inside my head a little voice tells me "No."

I think it's remarkable sometimes how I've lived my life never really saying "no" to anyone.  The only person I've really ever said "no" to was myself.  As in, "No, I need to be helpful,"  "No, don't be selfish,"  "No, don't think like everyone else," "No, don't be a sheep, don't follow, lead."  I often stop myself from doing horribly stupid things by telling myself no, but remarkably, I've never really told anyone a whopping "no" before.

Last night, when I arrived at my Mom's house for dinner (you just have to love Christmas dinner leftovers), I asked her very simply, "Mom, is it ok to tell your friends 'no', that you don't want to do what they're doing?"  She stood quietly for a moment and said, "It's perfectly alright to tell someone 'no'. If they're really your friends, they'll understand if you tell them "no" once in a while.  But to be honest, in our family, we never really have told anyone "no," even when we should have."

Now all of this sprung from a favorite film/topic of mine, yes, sigh with me, we're back to Eat, Pray, Love.  Yep, and one more for the fire, because you know I'm curious as to what her audience is going to do without her, Oprah, and her special on Eat, Pray, Love back in 2007.   When I surfed through the webpage about it, I found this neat little piece of advice from Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love and she said this:

"Learn to say no. Be realistic about what you can and cannot do in one day and one life."


To me, that's poignant.  That spoke to me on such an enormous level.  I am realizing that I have the debilitating inability to tell people "no."  It's the truth.  Lots of people have seen me struggle with it, when night after night, my screen would light up in pink with whisper after whisper in World of Warcraft when people wanted someone to listen to them when they felt ignored, or give them advice or just talk about their day, they always came to see me because they knew I would never tell them "no."

The "Sheri won't tell me no" mindset, that I'm very much responsible for people having (it's because I'm so sweet you know...lol), also resulted in 15 different individuals all running to me and talking to me at the exact same time.  You want to talk headache?  Try wading through the thoughts of 15 different individuals simultaneously and giving good, quality answers to each and every one of them.  That was a day from hell, but it also kicks back to Elizabeth Gilbert's idea that I now have to force myself to realize what I can and cannot do in a day.  I've painfully learned that I can't take care of that many people simultaneously because it stresses me out, resulting in a longing glare at the pill bottle.  Tack that on to having to explain the actions, or rather inactions of others to individuals demanding answers to questions I don't know the answer to, and I know you're with me, you'd want that pill bottle too.  It all equals nervous breakdown in the end, in which we remember Barry's wise suggestion about not making other people's drama my own.  Some people just need to be told "not now" or "bugger off"...but I digress...

My inability to tell people "no" has been the source of a lot of my problems.  When you don't say "no," guess what happens?  Everyone assumes that you're a doormat.  They assume that they can get away with practically anything because they assume they'll never be told "no," and don't give a second thought that they may be asking for too much.  It's like a small child saying "gimme, gimme, gimme" all the time and when the "no" finally comes, they kick and scream their heads off because they've been constantly spoiled by always being told, "yes," or "whatever you'd like."

I holler and scream at the word "no" when it comes in the context of being told I'm incapable of doing something, such as being able to cook a meal to perfection or win a One Show Pencil because I'm too old, even being told I can't tank or dps because I'm a girl or because my toon is a druid or any number of cruel things people tell you "no" about because they simply don't believe you're capable of it.  Otherwise, if I'm told "no" about anything else, such as, "can I talk to you for a moment," or "can we try this method," etc., I'm usually very understanding and take it with a grain of salt and drop it.  It isn't a big deal when I'm sincerely told, "no" with valid reasons to back it up.  I'm not unreasonable ya know...

But, if I'm not unreasonable when someone tells me "no," why all of a sudden is it a big deal if I put my foot down and say it myself?  I've got valid, educated reasons for saying "no", so why should it surprise someone if I say it?  Well, it goes back to my usual inability to say "no," which leads to headaches, heartbreaks, drama and all sorts of other crap I obsess about because I didn't tell someone "no" because my heart is too damn big and I never want to be seen as someone who won't help someone else in need.

To be honest, I remember getting the crap kicked out of me as a kid because I told an adult that I "wasn't going to do something."  To be honest, I can't even begin to remember what I did, but I remember it being jammed in my head that you never tell someone "no," that you're "not going to do something" because it's disrespectful, when you're asked to do something, you jump through the hoops to get it done, come hell or high water.  I think that's where the whole problem started, but to be honest, I'm loved and adored by lots of people because I didn't tell them "no."  I guess those folks just asked the right favor at the right time and didn't take advantage of my generosity of spirit.

Last night Mother reminded me that you can't go through life just telling people "yes" all the time because they'll inevitably take you for granted, followed by becoming the proverbial doormat I wrote about earlier.  I have to laugh at that, because Mom said it just right last night, that "people will take advantage at the drop of a hat when you're generous.  They use people and dump all their problems out on you because they've got nowhere else to take it or put it."  They're more about taking than giving.  Part of me says those types of folks are so spiritually bankrupt that they stick to people like a remora on a shark's belly picking up the excess things to feed off of because they have no skills to go out and find life's rich nutritional value on their own, so they feed off of others and wear them out, then move on to another person to do it for them instead of reaching down deep and doing it for themselves.  I guess "parasite" would be too strong of a word, but in a way, all of those people who just decide to hang on someone else because they don't have their own way of getting through life without using someone else to an extreme I guess would be some sort of parasitic tendency.

Since April of 2009, I've been on Emerson's quest, to not follow along like a sheep or take an easy, well worn road.  I'm always looking for the path that isn't there so that way I can blaze my own trail without sorrow or regret.  I've always been a trailblazer, I've never really ever been a follower, and thinking about what Barry said the other day, he's right, I'm a constructor of empires.  I like building huge structures which house brilliant ideas, high moral ground and a family structure.  That's what I do.  I like folks to come together and rely on each other, trust each other and damn it, I want them to believe in each other.  When hurts come, it's the sign to dig in and gut it out, have the fight, finish it with a hug and go back to the business of being a family.

BUT, and here comes the caveat (you know the other shoe had to drop), I build it through the trust I build with others from my unquestioning belief in them.  I have repeated it so many times, I know you know what I'm going to say, "Leadership is about support," amen, hallelujah, and pass the collection plate...gosh, how many times have I preached and lived that gospel?  My support for other folks is always expressed in a "I believe in you," and my "Relax, breathe and pretend I'm Oprah" openness that welcomes everyone in for cookies, candy and all of the rich nutritional value of the good feelings that come from feeling at home.  It's all rooted in my "if you're laughing, you're learning" approach to teaching, when things are fun and the people around you have nothing but good things to share with you, barring the occasional up-and-down movement of life, it all turns out pretty peachy.  After all, isn't life supposed to be fun?  Aren't we supposed to be getting the most out of our lives and just not "getting through it"?  Where is the moment where we blaze our own trail just by standing up and being counted because we have the courage and the fortitude to put our foot down and say NO, yet are still respected for our generosity and our willingness to go the extra mile for others.

Wait, tangent.  "The Extra Mile."  Why are the people who DO go that extra mile so rare?  Is that what makes us into doormats?  Because we actually CARE about other human beings?  If that's the case, that's just sad.  So sad, in fact, that I can't express it without a long string of really bad language.  F'ing pathetic is the first phrase that comes to mind...please feel free to add others...

Back to topic...We all know you can't go through your life telling everyone "no," but you sure as heck can moderate when you say "yes," because it can't be all the time.  Trust me, I've said "yes" so many times when it should have been "no" that it has resulted in never-ending, incessant IM's, whispers, e-mails, and so forth that have worn me down to the nub too many times to count.

That's why I'm so busy on this little journey of mine, trying (which sometimes seems in vain) to find the right path, or rather lack of one, so I can make my own.

The point is, there's nothing wrong with saying "no", just as long as your honest with yourself as Liz Gilbert describes, being realistic about what you can and can't do in a day or in a lifetime.

Not too long ago, I spent an entire evening in WoW with my status set to "busy".  Some of you may remember that.  It was a peace unlike anything I'd ever felt.  I was overjoyed and got so much done I couldn't believe it because I simply put out a blanket "no."  But a blanket doesn't hide the problem any better than sweeping dust under a rug.  It doesn't solve my inability to say "no" to people.  Damn, maybe my heart is too damn big.

I have all sorts of regrets about not saying "no," like the other night when I didn't like how things were going, I should have slammed my foot down, said "no," added a "hell no" along with Barry's colorful explicatives and walked out the door, but I didn't.  I sat there getting trod upon when I should have had the common sense to stand up and call "bullshit" on the whole deal.  I'm more angry at myself for not doing that than I am at the guys who stepped on me.  I didn't say "no" when I should have, to my eternal shame.  I should have said "no" when I was told I had to heal and not do damage in WoW. (I'm a cat goddamn it! LOL)  I should have told so many people to stick it where the sun doesn't shine but instead I helped them right along and smiled as they left treadmarks on my back from rolling over me.  Something's just got to give, but I don't want to be a cast iron bitch either...

So, I've got to learn how to say "no."  To stand up and holler "kiss my a**" (but still offer a positive solution) when I know things aren't right and not always go that extra mile for others.  I need to save that "extra mile" mentality for me, because last time I checked, there are but very few who do that for me.  Why not give myself that little extra mile?  Why not save that pep talk for myself because I KNOW for a fact that the people who do need to listen, aren't.  Why not say "no" to the people who take me for granted and give them  a side helping of "kiss my a**"?  It's definitely not me saying "what's in it for me," it's me saying, "you need to take care of your own business because it's not mine to deal with," or a "take out your own damn garbage" or a "carry your own damn bags, what do I look like, your own personal bellhop?"

KP has been on my butt to say "no" for so long.  I mean the man has chased me up the proverbial tree always telling me, "don't put up with that," "don't let people walk over ya," and so forth.  Moral of the story, outside of first listening to my own heart, rule number two is "always listen to KP and Barry" because they're usually right.

Well, come New Year's Day, there's going to be quite the few people being told "no," if not "hell no."  It's time for me to start cutting that path.  I've always believed in maximizing strengths and minimizing weaknesses, and to me, the best place to start minimizing those weaknesses is by turning those weaknesses into strengths.  After all, the chain is only as strong as it's weakest link, right?

I guess I should warn folks then, I figure it's the only proper and polite thing to do...For those of you who found it necessary to dump all the hard stuff on me, guess what, I'm not doing it anymore.  So the next time your ego takes a beating, don't look to me, because if you ask for an ice pack for your bruised ego and expect me to make everything better and clean up the mess YOU made, you're going to hear only one word...

NO.

And you may possibly receive a not-so-kind piece of my mind as a nice healthy kick in the pants bonus.

Because if there's one lesson in life I've learned, sometimes, you've got to suck it up and take care of things on your own because it's not going to get done unless YOU do it.  And THAT is blazing your own path, which, according to Emerson, and a whole lot of other stoic philosophers out there, is a very good thing.

Santa Carl came to town...

At the end of last year, I closed out 2009 with the ultimate horror, my sister on a gurney getting ready to have a double mastectomy.  I was terrified.  My sister, who was my idol growing up, was in trouble and I had no way to fix or help the situation.  Talk about feeling helpless.

But, while I was feeling helpless, my sister had met this great guy.  He was tall, funny, could handle everything that was being dished onto Nan and then some.  While Nan went through cancer, the entire time, standing behind her like a quiet guardian was Carl.

Carl reminds me of that line out of "Eat, Pray, Love" when he might as well have said, "You don't need a protector, you need a champion."  Carl is Nan's champion.

While chemo went on, Carl was there taking care of Nan, he even went onto my "What I'm thankful for list" for this year because let's face it, he backstopped the entire operation of Nan's recovery.  While she fought, lost her breasts, her hair then ultimately began to feel better, Carl was always right behind her.

On Christmas Eve, I spent the night at my parents house.  While I was watching the "A Christmas Story" marathon on TBS and remembering the Christmas where Nan had gotten her first BB gun, it was as if a man in a red suit had knocked on the door with a dog large enough to be a reindeer (Carl's dogs Wrecks and Reese are two very large dobermans who could double as horses they're so large) and had gently said to me, "You know, Carl wants to know what Nan looked like growing up..." because Nan had told me a couple of weeks previously at dinner that Carl wanted to see her childhood photos.

Being that we didn't do the whole mass consumerism deal of giving gifts this year (and believe me it's good when you don't, gives the holiday a whole different feeling.  Instead of consumer driven greed, it was all about family. And if there was one Christmas that needed to be about family, for me in so many ways, it was this one) instead, we just spent time together, had a gorgeous meal and appreciated each other as gifts sitting next to the tree.

So, as I was saying, on Christmas Eve, after having the Red Suited Man epiphany, I got into the old photo albums to dig out photos of Nan as a little girl.  I found photos of us vacationing at South Padre Island, old school photos, prom pictures, the works.  I also found one of Nan with REALLY big hair that could only have originated in the 80's.  If Carl wanted to see Nan as a little girl, there was no better way to show him than for him to see how she always had held my hand, or had an arm around me, guarding me and making sure I was always safe.

I found photos from Christmases past, but most of all, I assembled a collection of photos that showed Carl not only her as a little girl, but how incredibly special she's always been.

On Christmas Day, as Mom and I were in the kitchen preparing Christmas dinner, a knock sounded at the door, one that Mom and I didn't hear, but inexplicably, my very "selective hearing enhanced" father had heard it and yelled, "Come on in!" as if he knew it was Carl and Nan.  Mom ran to the door, and sure enough it was Carl...sans Nan.

Immediately my brain went into overdrive.  What was he doing there without Nan?  Maybe he had shown up early and was going to visit with us while we all waited for Nan to get off of work, but instead, he produced a box out of his pocket and mother and I both gasped.  He looked at us and said, "Can you guys keep a secret because I need y'all to be in on something with me..." it was then that he opened up the little box he was holding to show us Nan's engagement ring.  Mother and I immediately started crying, only for Carl to answer, "Stop, y'all are going to make me cry..."

I jumped up and down.  Literally.  I looked at him and said, "You're really applying to be my real big brother?"  Then it occurred to me, Carl is just a big of a technophile as I am...and then the real meaning hit me, I was getting a geeky big brother, something I always wanted!  He's like Mr. iPhone, he's so technologically fortified, it's like he's a big box of the most nutritious geekified cereal ever created!  I cheered, doing my usual hippiefied, "Yeah, man!" I always do when I'm really thrilled with something.

So, after calming down, Carl put us in on the big moment, having us help him hide the ring in the Christmas tree so he could surprise Nan.  Now what Carl doesn't know is how the communication lines between my mother, my sister and I work.  What one knows, the three of us know.  There is not one amongst us that can hold in a secret worth a flip.  Mother and I looked at each other quasi-panicked, but she and I knew we had to hold this one in.  But, with the ring securely hidden in the tree, Carl left us to go home to wait for Nan to come home from work.  After he left, Mother and I stood looking at each other with looks of happy disbelief on our faces and the one sole quandary that can leave us debilitated, we had to keep a secret.  How on EARTH were we going to hold it in?  We were so excited for Nan neither of us could breathe as we stood in the kitchen, eyes constantly darting towards the Christmas tree.

That was at around 4pm.  Nan wasn't going to get off of work until 6pm.  The anticipation was mounting.  So at around 6:30pm, Nan and Carl finally arrived for dinner.  My brain was doing everything it could not to blurt out the secret.  My shoulders tensed, and my teeth found their way to incessantly biting my lower lip.  My mind was a constant mantra of "hold it in, hold it in, hold it in."

Mother did far better than I did, she was very "business as usual," as she focused on getting the buffet line set up in the kitchen for everyone to help their plates.  I was buzzing back and forth too, first, because it gave me an excuse to pace frantically under the disguise that I was helping out.  When Mom finally called for everyone to help their plates for a third time, I grabbed the plates off of the beautifully set table and jabbed one into Carl's stomach saying, "Come on dude, let's eat," which was code for, "Oh my god, let's just hurry up and get this over with because it's killing me!  I can't hold this in forever!!!!"

My mother had set the table with my grandmother's silver set.  That's right, gorgeous antique knives, forks and spoons which had been used at family dinners since time immemorial.  Before dinner, Mom and I had carefully washed and dried the antique tableware, but being that it's old and had spent the last 30 years in stasis in god knows where, it had a particular smell about it.  Oh gods it smelled old and the kicker was, I washed that stuff with a ton of soap and scalding hot water before it got placed on the table.  All it took was one bite and my father got up from the table went to their silverware drawer and pulled out more recent dinnerware.  Yeah, I took a bite and let out, "Hey, I think Aunt Sissy left something on this one..." after finding out that my grandmother's silver had been used at every Christmas dinner at the big people table at my grandparents house (remember me telling you about those big Christmas dinners?  Yep, you better believe it, the same silverware sitting on the table last night was the exact same cutlery that was on those tables of old some 30 years ago).  With more "fresh" silverware, we finished our dinner with Mom vowing for it to never see the light of day or be eaten off of again.

But, the time was creeping up for the big surprise and wouldn't you know it, Nan just had to step up and wash dishes.  Gods, the dishwasher had already ran six times that day as Mom and I cleaned as we cooked.  Nan's standing in the kitchen visiting with us and remarking how Christmas dinner takes days to prepare and is demolished in a matter of minutes.  Truth told, inside of me, I was thinking, "Good god woman, if you knew what was in that tree, you'd stop flapping your gums and get in there!"  I tried in vain to get her away from that sink.  I tried the whole, "Hey, you've had a long day, why don't you let me do that," only to be told that she was fine doing it, I went on the offensive and said quite bluntly, "You're tired, get the hell out of the kitchen."  Oh no, Nan just wouldn't hear it.  I walked out of the kitchen to where Carl was sitting and said, "Dude, I've tried everything to get her out of there and she won't hear it."  That's when Carl looked up at me and channeled my Uncle Bill when he said, "Don't worry, I'm patient."  Great, he was patient, I sure as hell wasn't!   I'm the one who had heard from my sister just weeks earlier a phrase that stuck in my throat like a lump as she looked at me with a sad face saying, "I'd like to grow old with Carl."  So now you can see why I was going out of my skull!  Nan's in the kitchen washing dishes while I knew that Santa Carl had come to town and was about to give her the Christmas wish she wanted!  I was ready to pull my hair out.

So, finally, the dishes are done, I hand Nan the photo albums for her to share with Carl and finally, after much prompting, we get her to look in the tree for the ceremonial "pickle".  A few years earlier, my Aunt Bonnie had told us about the tradition of the ornamental pickle.  That's right, it's a pickle ornament that's hidden in the tree that people have to find. Don't ask me, I don't know where the tradition came from, but as soon as Carl and Nan hit the door, I was immediately on her to find the pickle.  Ok, here's the secret, we had hidden the ring box behind the pickle ornament.  I nearly gave the whole thing away right there as Mom and Carl shot me looks of "shut up!" but Nan replying, "Oh I already found it."  Gods, getting through dinner up to that point was an exercise of extreme tongue biting as I had already nearly given it away, I was sulling up because I didn't know how much longer I could restrain myself from just grabbing her by the hand and dragging her kicking and screaming to that tree to show her what was behind that damned pickle!

Ok, so now you're up to speed, I'm freaking out, Nan's FINALLY gotten into the living room and we're almost to the big moment.  Everyone is on Nan's butt to find that pickle.  She must've thought we'd all gone nuts.  She walks over to the tree, points at the pickle and says, "It's in the same place!"  Heads went into hands as Carl got up and dragged her back to the tree.  It was then that she found the box and as Carl went down on one knee to propose, I realized one simple thing...he was giving her a wish she had only told me about and I looked up eerily wondering if there really was a Santa Claus.

I guess there is, his name just happens to be Carl.

So, it's my proud little sister moment that I can scream at the top of my lungs...

WAY TO GO NAN!  You might have fought cancer and won, but you got something even bigger out of it, and so did the rest of us.

My sister and Carl are engaged.  Forgive me if I'm selfish but I'm so tickled to death to say four words...

MY BIG BROTHER ROCKS!

Bar none, it was the most special Christmas I've ever had.  Thanks Carl!

Then I came home and spent the next six hours on Skype with KP, a guy I'd like to grow old with...um Santa, are you listening?

The Perfect Pick-Me-Up

I needed a pick-me-up.

Someone introduced me to a song by Katy Perry called "Firework," which basically is a song that's good for anyone's spirit when they're down.

I coupled the tune with a walk through Uru.  First I went to K'veer and listened to the music there...but then, something in me needed a run, so I flipped on that Katy Perry tune and went for a jog through Uru, visiting various ages until I reached Eder Kemo and the spore plants and fireflies synched with the song perfectly.

The perfect kick in the pants I needed.  And I even took a photo...with a little help from Photoshop, it turned out just awesome...wish I would have caught it on vid, it'd be even more impressive.

Some friends came out of the woodwork after my last couple of posts and also added to the spark inside.  I'm sitting here with this crooked smile on my face and realized that Barry said it perfectly in so many ways...and was just what I needed to hear, hat's off to you pal, that's why we've been friends for almost 15 years.  Another pal called on the phone and even lent his support.

I remembered not too long ago I wrote about how things find their own level...maybe that means something right around now...

Here's the newest addition to the soundtrack, Katy Perry's "Firework."