Resolution Check

It's time to revisit the New Year's Resolutions, and see how I am doing so far!

1. When someone cuts me off in traffic, I'll say something rude.

Check. Although my rude comments are far less profane than they used to be.

2. I'm going to read at least one book per day.

Check. And some days I read three books!

3. I'm going to read Trista's and Krista's blogs every day.

Check. I also WOULD read Wendy's blog every day, but she doesn't update very often. And please keep her in your thoughts & prayers, as she's having some concerns with her pregnancy.

4. I'm going to go to the movies once or twice a month.

I haven't done this, but mainly because there has been a dearth of movies that I've been interested enough in to go watch.

5. I won't eat oatmeal for breakfast any more!!

Check! No more oatmeal!

6. I'll watch Rugrats whenever I can.

Check, and add Jimmy Neutron.

7. When it gets warm enough to wear sandals, I'll go get a pedicure every payday.

I've only gotten to wear sandals twice, and then we got a nasty cold snap. But I'm still hopeful this will happen.

8. I'll write for at least half an hour every day.

If you count the translation work I've been doing, check. Otherwise, no.

9. I'll take a 3-day trip to Galveston this summer with my sister.

I won't know about this one until this summer.

10. I'll kiss my husband and my dog every chance I get.

Check.

11. I'll go to the fantasy writers convention in Austin in November with Clover, Liz, and Mom.

I can't report on this one until November.

12. I'll dance when I'm at the grocery store and they're playing good music (or dorky music that I like anyway).

Oh, gosh, yes. I get the strangest looks in the grocery store, and I can't figure out why until Joe or Liz points out that I'm dancing.

13. I'll tap dance in the copy room when I'm making photocopies at work.

Check.

14. When there's good cake around, I'll eat a piece.

Check, and may I say that there have been far too few pieces of good cake around!

15. I'll buy the DVD of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" the day it comes out, and watch it two or three times in a row, and watch all the extras.

Check!

See how much easier it is to keep your resolutions when you make them realistic? And can I also tell you how good it is that I didn't make a resolution to lose weight?

One more bit of progress

I had 3 library books due today. I'm not through with them and didn't really feel like going to the library today anyway. So guess what: I renewed them!

Okay, for most people it's probably not a big deal. For me, it is.

A. I knew they were due today.
B. I knew where they were!
C. I knew that I wasn't ready to turn them back in, as I still need them for reference material.
D. I knew where my library card was.
E. I knew that I could go online to renew them.
F. And I went online and renewed them.

No fines, no hassle, and a feeling of satisfaction.

Isn't it disgusting when you realize how easy some things are to accomplish, and you wonder why you never bothered to take care of them before?

What's wrong with this picture?

Well, there's not an actual photograph for you to look at or anything. Here's the deal.

I love to cook. I truly enjoy it. And I love to buy kitchenware.

Back when I first got married, I planned on having gobs of kids. Even though the kids never seemed to materialize, I kept on buying enough kitchenware to cook for a family of 12.

Joe and I have lately been focusing serious attention on decluttering as we're working to remodel and redecorate our house. Several months ago I threw away all of our dishes (only because they hadn't been washed in at least 2-3 months, while I was temporarily living elsewhere). And instead of buying service for 12, we bought dishes and flatware for 4. It's been nice. During those times that we're too lazy to wash dishes and let them stack up, it doesn't take too long to clean things back up.

But somehow I never got around to the dreaded lower cupboards. Oh, yeah, sure, my top cupboards were pretty organized (although I did put another 8 mugs into bags to take to Goodwill this morning). But the bottom cupboards, well, the only time I ever saw the inside of one of them was when I hastily opened the door and shoved a dish inside, closing the door as quickly as possible hoping that nothing would come tumbling out onto my feet.

Today I did two of the three cupboards. In the process, I filled three brown paper grocery sacks and one white garbage bag with things that I am taking to Goodwill. I still have a stand mixer, a quesadilla maker (I'm still not sure why I felt compelled to purchase that), a hand mixer, a hand blender, a blender, a juicer, a waffle maker, a bread machine (but I'm probably going to get rid of it soon--bread tastes better when I make it the fun way), 2 food processors (yes, one is going as soon as I find all the parts for it), a cookie press, a deep fryer----WHAT THE HECK IS THIS ALL ABOUT??? I also still have plenty of mixing bowls and serving bowls. I got rid of all the plastic junk that we never use anyway. I got rid of the extra 7 serving bowls. I got rid of the cookie cutters that I never use because I find making rolled cookies incredibly tedious.

Where does this desire to amass as many things as possible come from? Why? It's not like I was using any of them, because they were all crammed into spaces and hidden behind other piles of things I didn't use so that I couldn't get to them easily.

I've been working on learning to appreciate things without feeling that I need to possess them. I've also been getting much better at not buying something "that will work in the interim." I've done that for years, too. I can't find just the right bedspread, but we've got to have one, so I'll just get any old thing until I find the right one. That has resulted in a house that's so badly cluttered that if someone unexpectedly knocks on the door, I hide in the bedroom and pretend I'm not home.

As I said, I'm improving here. Joe and I saw a comforter set the other night that was almost--but not quite--just the right thing. We agreed to wait until we find just the right thing.

Well, I'm off to take 4 bags of junk to Goodwill. May they bless someone else as much as they're blessing me by being removed from my home!

Molly the Wonder Dog

If people think that dogs can't talk just because they don't have the right mechanics, they just don't know anything! When I went home at lunch, Molly met me at the door, gave me a million kisses, and asked me to stay home with her the rest of the afternoon so that we could nap together and I could let her out in the back yard whenever she wanted to. I apologized and said that I had to go back to work, but would be home by 4:20. When I showed up a whole 8 minutes early, she was elated. I got another million kisses, and then she asked me to leave the back door open so that she could go in and out of the backyard as she wished. Since I had to fill out a job application for another school district, I obediently left the door open so I wouldn't have to get up and down 20 times.

And on Sunday evening, after Molly had spent the vast majority of 3 days under my bed (she's very afraid of rain), Joe mentioned to me that he was going to take her for a walk so she could stretch her legs. About an hour later, she scooted out from under the bed and went to find Joe to tell him that she wanted her walk right then, please. He put her off for about an hour, but it's hard to turn her down when she's following you around the house with that big happy grin on her face that says, "I can't wait to take our walk!" I told him he'd better go ahead and give in, so I got out her leash while he put on his shoes and coat. As soon as she saw the leash, she jumped into the air and spun around quickly. That means, "Yay! I'm going for a walk!"

She talks, all right. How about when I sleep in on the weekends? She comes to my bedroom and says, "Momma, you've slept enough. I want my song now." Or when she says, "That sandwich looks really good, and I would be happy to take it off your hands. I'm not saying you're fat--please don’t misunderstand me--but you don't need that sandwich nearly as much as I do."

And speaking of sandwiches, she is truly the most spoiled dog I know. Take tonight, for example. Usually when Joe and I go out to eat, we bring the leftovers home for her. Tonight we went to Souper Salad, and there can be no leftovers, as it's a buffet. But we had also stopped by the French bakery and bought a napoleon, an eclair, and that wonderful pudding that's made of all the previous day's unsold goodies mashed together. As I was explaining to Molly why we didn't have any leftovers for her, Joe was in the kitchen cutting off a precious portion of the pudding. She inhaled it in about 3 seconds--just long enough for me to get a can of Iams open for her.

And she gets sung to every morning. And night. And, well, okay, pretty much any time I happen to be giving her a booty scratch. Which is pretty much any time she wanders in the room and asks for one. She does so by coming up to me for some kisses. When I start scratching behind her ears, she turns around and walks away just far enough that my hand is on her back just above her tail. So when I start scratching, she twists this way and that with pleasure. And if I stop scatching too soon, she will back up so that her head is by my hand again, and repeat the whole process. Sometimes I get a little irritated that she keeps giving me her butt instead of her face, so I'll tell her I won't give her any more booty scratches until I get a few kisses. So she will then dutifully give me a kiss or two on my hand, and then give me her butt again.

Just as I wrote this, Joe wandered into the room with what was left of his precious pudding. Molly joined us with her ball. But when Joe cut off a bit of pudding and fed it to me, Molly dropped her ball onto the floor and opened her mouth so that she could get another bite of pudding.

Yeah, she got it.

Whew!

Well, I just completed my first application for a teaching job. Wow! They want to know everything, including your opinions on the role of education. What are you supposed to say in answer to that? Well, gee, I think education is important. It is--but that's not going to make a good impression on anyone. I tried to just answer as matter-of-factly (is that even a word?) as I talk. There is also an online interview that applicants have to go through; however, I already did that interview for the alternative certification program I am attending this summer. I just had to enter some information into that system, and they will forward my results to that school district.

There are 6 school districts within very easy driving distance of my home, and I would enjoy working for any of them. If I don't get a job with any of them, then I'll look at the other districts. It's a little scary when I look at the calendar and realize I have 2 months and 2 weeks in which to find a teaching job.

Okay. I'm going to take a deep breath, play a few games, and then lollygag the rest of the evening. If anyone is reading this, wish me luck and say a prayer! Thank you!

I Need Your Money!

Since shameless begging worked so well for Trista, I figured I'd try using this forum for some more shameless begging.

My good friend Krista was recently diagnosed with cancer. She has an extremely severe form of cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. She is managing to keep her spirits up through everything, and I have been so impressed with her. She is one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my entire life. After struggling with infertility and a miscarriage, she selflessly started a very supportive e-mail group for others who were coping with infertility. It is in that context that I met her. When my IVF failed and I was grieving over the loss of Tad and Ellie, I was searching everywhere to find comfort and consolation. I found it in her group, and in my friendship with her and her husband. I also met another best friend through that group, Michele. I'm fortunate enough to live somewhat close to Krista, but I even got to meet Michele one summer when Joe and I headed to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown NY.

Anyway, just as she turned her trials of infertility into a way to help others, she is turning her energies to helping others now. She has started a group for the Plano Relay for Life that is taking place on May 5th and 6th. From 7 p.m. until 7 a.m., a member of the team has to be on the track, running or walking--cancer does not take a break, and neither can our team. My husband and I have both signed up to participate, and we will be walking along with her family and other friends that are there to support her.

And here's where the shameless begging comes in. There is always a great need for money to fund cancer research. If you click on the link of the title to this post, you will be taken to my website for Relay for Life. Click on "make a donation," and you can support a truly worthy cause.

I PASSED!

I passed! I passed! whee! Whoohoo! Yay!! Wheeee!

Okay, sorry about that--just had to squee a bit.

I got the unofficial scores for my content area exam, and I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

--doing the happy dance---

Now I get to start applying for teaching jobs, and as soon as I get my official scores in the mail, I can apply for my temporary teaching certificate.

And Liz passed as well! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

The Webb sisters rock!

More about that special summer

During the magical summer I wrote about in my last post, I was as free as I've ever been, before or since, in my life. I was up with the sun and spent my entire day and most of the night outside, returning only to eat, change clothes, and catch a quick nap. For someone who spent most of her life being a bookworm and hiding inside to read, that's saying a lot!

The condos in which we lived seemed to me like they were on the edge of civilization. There was a large patch of woods behind them, with a pond where, rumor had it, an alligator lived! And a train track went through the woods, and it was dark and green and sweet smelling back there. I got poison ivy more than once that summer.

One night my friend and I snuck out of our homes and went prowling around the woods. We came across a stopped train, and started climbing up on it. The train started, and Rhonda immediately jumped off. It took me another moment or two to gather up my nerve before I was able to jump off. When I did finally take the leap, I rolled a few times and landed right in a patch of poison ivy.

I spent hours that summer trying to learn how to do flips from the diving board. I never did master the art of the flip, but got a good belly-buster more than once, as I didn't curl up tightly enough and my naked stomach slapped the surface of the water with incredible force. I did learn how to dive, though, and felt good about that.

I loved going to the swimming pool around 1 or 2 a.m. The pool was usually deserted, although my father or a friend might accompany me (depending on whether I was there legitimately or without permission). The lights were dim, and the water had soaked up the heat of the day. Then, in the cool evening, slipping into the swimming pool was like bathing in soft, warm silk. I loved those quiet hours when I floated silently in the pool and felt the breeze blow across the water and watched the stars.

I spent a lot of time in the woods and by the pond, and never did see the alligator. I had my first French kiss in those woods (and it was so disgusting I thought I'd never want to do it again!).

I briefly took up smoking (one of the 3 times I've tried it) until my brother found my lighter and set my carpet on fire. It didn't cause great amounts of damage, and I was too dumb to realize what could have happened. I think I was grounded for a month, but snuck out every night.

My mother told me, years later, that she and Dad knew I was sneaking out at night. I thought I was so clever, waiting until they had gone to bed and then silently slipping out the front door, leaving it unlocked so that I could get back in later. She said, and she was right, that it wouldn't have been nearly as much for for me had I know I had their tacit permission. I had the fun of being outside and the sly pleasure I took in getting away with something.

There has been a lot of ugliness and a lot of pain and sorrow in my life. I'm glad that I had that magical summer--there was even ugliness then, but it was surrounded by so much pleasure that it tipped the balance.

The Flasher

The other night I was telling Joe about my most memorable summer. I was 12 (and looked 16), and we lived in some condos on what seemed like the edge of town. I want to write more about it when I have more time, so I won't start that now. But I do want to write about the flasher.

I was walking from the swimming pool back to our condo, and a guy in a car waved me over. I was a cop's daughter, so I knew enough not to get too close. But I did go a little closer, and looked in at him (from some distance) through the passenger side window. He asked me for directions to somewhere, and I saw that he had his pants undone and was playing with himself.

I gave him the directions he asked for, made up a story about meeting my boyfriend, and then started to slowly walk off. As he drove off, I looked at his license plate and memorized it. I then raced upstairs, wrote down the plate number so I wouldn't forget it it, and then frantically called my mom.

I got the excitement of looking through books of mug shots, and proudly pointed at the guy who had flashed me. It turned out that the car was registered to the brother of the man that I'd identified.

My mom then took me home before heading back to work. When she arrived back home that evening, she and my dad presented me with a hot fudge sundae with a little U.S. flag sticking out of it.

Two thoughts: When I saw that guy's wanker, it looked like a nasty mealworm. I wanted to throw up. Ugh!!!!

And that license plate number? Yeah, I still remember it.

Tonight when I was praying before bed, I suddenly started thinking of A. and how much I miss her, and just started crying and can't stop. I lay in bed for an hour, hoping I'd be able to shut off my mind and go to sleep. Then I decided to get up and write some of it out.

I'm so glad I had that time with her when she stayed with us for about 5 months, back in 2003/2004. I remember one day the two of us were just sitting outside on the front porch stoop, and she hugged me and told me she loved me. I told her how much it meant to me that she came, and how much I treasured and loved her.

I wish I'd been quicker to forgive what happened after that, because I know she didn't mean to hurt me. I know that she was in so much pain herself that it never even dawned on her that (a) I'd find out and (b) how badly it would hurt me.

You know what's sad? A month or two before all this happened, I knew that I was ready to get in touch with her. I wasn't ready to talk to her on the phone yet, so I asked my mom and Liz if they had her e-mail address. Neither of them did, so I figured I'd wait it out until I was ready to talk to her.

A., this is for you:

I love you so much! I'm so sorry that I didn't talk to you when you called me, and I'm sorry that I didn't get over myself more quickly. The chocolate frosting was good--I think it took just over a week for me to finish it off, and I thought of you with every bite. And I promise that no child who asks me for a can of frosting will ask in vain. Thank you for the Easy-Bake Oven. That was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me, and I had so much fun when you and I baked and ate everything that came with it. I found some pictures of you that we took while you were here, and Liz and I are going to make copies for J. I hope that's okay. We've adopted J., and we're going to keep in touch with him. When we go visit your grave, he's going to meet us out there, okay? Did you know that when you left our house to go back to Utah, Joe and I sat in your room and cried? When you allowed yourself to be loved and to love back, you were so incredible. Remember that letter I wrote you? Do you remember when I told you that I have always loved you and I always will? Well, I do, and I always will.

I created my South Park character today for Trista and figured I'd share it here as well.

Sorry for the delay between posts. My company has a new, very harsh internet policy. The reason I say it's harsh is because I only have a total of 3 hours of work per day (most days), despite the fact that I have to be there for 8 hours. Until Monday morning, I had been amusing myself by blogging, reading my favorite blogs, reading books online from Blackmask or Project Gutenberg during those long slow hours when I had no work.

After two very frustrating days where I alternately did themed crossword puzzles, logic puzzles, made my loving sister amuse me by sending me a series of e-mails with an editorial from Mugglenet, I finally decided I could use up some time by getting back into a project I'm doing for my editor at Live Oak House. She asked me to translate Quo Vadis into modern English. Since I don't know Polish, I'm obviously working from an early translation into English. That doesn't mean that I don't have much to do; au contraire, I managed to keep myself busy all day with the project, and foresee that I will have plenty to do for a while. I'd like to write an introduction to this translation, exploring some of the issues as they are presented in the book as opposed to what is believed by modern scholars.

I've also been studying--somewhat--for my content area exam that I'm taking at 7:30 on Saturday morning. What possessed me to sign up for an exam at 7:30 Saturday morning? I mean, yeah, I'll be through in plenty of time to enjoy the rest of my day, but ugh--the one day I get to sleep in at least a tiny bit, and I'll have to be up at my usual workday time. Not fun.

Limericks

I just found these--I wrote them sometime last summer. They're too dreadful not to share with the world, so here you go:

A man who was blind as a bat
Mistook his wife for a hat.
He ran into his doctor
And cheerfully doffed her
And the doctor said, "My! Fancy that!"

There once was a girl named Michele
with a voice that pealed like a bele.
When Michele sang the blues
It became front page news
Because Michele made the beles loudly knele.

I love Geoffrey Chaucer, the poet--
Fortunately, Joe doesn't know it.
But I must not have an affair
with a medieval longhair.
I couldn't keep it secret--I'd blow it!

Job hunting is a pain in the a@@
and rude people are really quite cra@@
I'm lonely and blue
and I can't find my blue shoe
to wear to my next training cla@@

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Books I've Read This Week 1. A Little Florida Lady, by Dorothy C. Paine 2. Five Happy Weeks, by Margaret E. Sangster 3. Little Sky-High, by Hezekiah Butterworth 4. Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin 5. A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's Life, by Mrs. A.D.T. Whitney 6. Amanda. A Daughter of the Mennonites, by Anna Balmer Myers 7. Betty Gordon at Boarding School, by Alice Emerson 8. Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp, by Alice Emerson 9. Betty Wales, Sophomore, by Margaret Warde 10. Bob the Castaway, by Frank V. Webster 11. Brother and Sister, by Josephine Lawrence 12. Facing the World, by Horatio Alger, Jr. 13. Do and Dare, by Horatio Alger, Jr. All of these books are available at no cost online from Blackmask in the "For Girls and Boys" section. They're not all particularly good, but I didn't hate any of them. I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to older children's literature, but I always have been. Perhaps it appeals to me because it shows a way of living that no longer exists and that I've never known.

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Back Spasms in 3 Easy Steps

1. Hold all your stress in your back. This is easy to do, so easy, in fact, that I can do it without even thinking about it.

2. Do a lot of heavy physical labor when you're unused to it. Pack up and carry boxes of books from the office into the living room, in preparation for taking them to your storage unit.

3. Let your best friend's 5-year-old son jump all over you and make "sneak attacks" until he falls and smashes your left breast, causing it to hurt almost as much as a mammogram.

Voila! Back spasms! :)

If that's not enough agony, here's how to add to it.

Take some Tylenol while you're at your best friend's house. Then when you get home, take a prescription pain pill. Find out that you're suddenly allergic to it, where you weren't before, and begin itching. Take some Benadryl in an attempt to stop the itching. Scratch, scratch, scratch, look at the clock, realize you have to get up in three hours and you haven't slept yet. Scratch some more. Take some more Benadryl. Scratch, scratch, scratch, look at the clock, realize you have to get up in 15 minutes. Cry.

Go to work where you can't take Benadryl because it makes you sleepy and you're already sleepy. Try to keep your eyes open, even though you have finished all of your work by 8:15. Itch, but you can't scratch because you're at work and don't want anyone to think you have lice.

Whee! Sounds fun, huh? Okay, so I really did enjoy the physical labor I did on Saturday. It was very satisfying to make significant headway in getting my home office cleared out so that within another week I'll actually be able to use it as a home office.

I also really enjoyed letting T. jump all over me and make sneak attacks. He couldn't get wrap his head around the fact that loudly announcing a sneak attack kind of takes away from the surprise element, but it was fun nonetheless. I like to call him Zerbert Boy, and give him zerberts when he's not expecting them. I have a special place in my heart for T. See, when I was doing my IVF, C. got pregnant. Being the completely awesomely coolest best friend ever that she is, she didn't announce it at first because she wanted me to get all the attention. Then when I lost my babies, C. didn't want to tell me because she didn't want to hurt me. But she did, and it did hurt--not because she was pregnant, but because I had lost my own little ones. When T. was born, I went to see them at the hospital and just thought I was going to die. But I had gone to the hospital for all of C.'s babies except the first two (who were born before I knew C.), and felt like it was important to go that time. C. is so cool that I was able to be honest with her about how I felt, and is even cooler because, not being a dummy in any way, already knew how I felt and appreciated how hard it was.

In fact, I need to talk more about C. She has 6 children, 5 of whom are still living. Her first son died as a baby, and it was a crushing blow to her. Then she had a daughter, A., followed by four sons. Her second son has cystic fibrosis, and when she got the diagnosis, Joe and I went over to her house and wept right along with her. C. is a writer of fantasy fiction, and a very good one. And she is the truest friend that anyone could ever hope to have. She's an angel, and I'm so glad to have her as a best friend!

Friday Feast

Appetizer: On a scale of 1 to 10 (10=highest), how sociable are you?

I'm not particularly sociable; in fact, when my depression is in full swing, I'm extremely anti-social. But amongst my friends and people I've known for years, I'm reasonably social. So, maybe a 3?

Soup: Name 3 DVDs you currently own.

(1) All the Harry Potter movies that are available on DVD yet
(2) The extended versions of all 3 Lord of the Rings movies
(3) Serenity

Salad: If you were to win a superlative award now (such as most talented, class clown, most likely to succeed), what would it be?

Kookiest? Weirdest? Liz, Clover, if you're reading this, what do you think? I do recall that I was considered to be the weirdest girl in my 6th-grade class. I was, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Main Course: What is your favorite radio station?

I don't really have a favorite radio station. I usually listen to CDs. I recently got Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince on CD, and I've been listening to that during my brief commute to work. And at work I usually listen to jazz or torch music on CD.

Dessert: Complete this sentence: I believe __________ because __________.

I believe that I don't want to get into a deep philosophical thing here, because I've had to delve deep within my personal beliefs over the last week and I'm tired and have a headache. It's time for me to lighten up for a little while. I know that's fudging the intent of the question, but it's my prerogative.

This One's for You

A., Liz and I had lunch at McDonald's today. We each got a cheeseburger Happy Meal, with a little Strawberry Shortcake family member inside. We're keeping the dolls on our desks at work so that we'll have them as a cute and precious reminder of you. We had that picture of you, your daughter, Liz and me, and Mom with us, and remembered the good times. We laughed about the funny things we did together.

On the way back to the office, we stopped at Sonic and I got a cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper in your honor.

When I go home tonight, I'm going to stop at the grocery store, buy a can of chocolate frosting, and take a big spoonful for you. I'm sorry I didn't get the chocolate frosting for you those long years ago. And I promise that the next kid who asks me for a can of chocolate frosting as a treat will get one.

I love you and I miss you. I hope you're finding some peace now. Until we meet again, know how much I love you.

Moving Forward

It's interesting. I've noted that people seem to think, because of the way A. died and the circumstances that led up to her death, it's almost indecent to acknowledge that I've suffered a loss. My truest friends have been nothing but kind and loving and compassionate. And I received a sympathy card from a dear lady I used to work with, and was deeply moved by it. But my in-laws (some of whom know the whole story, and others just know that one of my sisters passed away last week) have not made any acknowledgment to me of my loss, nor have some other people from whom I might have expected it. Granted, my in-laws--as much as I love them--are far from being overly sensitive of my feelings (e.g. they completely ignored the IVF, both the attempts and the loss). Still, it stings.

Liz met me for lunch today, and we shared a chicken-fried steak meal at Chili's. It's the first food I've eaten since A. died that actually tasted good to me, and it's the first full meal Liz has eaten in that time period as well. That indicates that we're moving through the initial stages of the grief and finding some pleasures in life again.

I've felt a little guilty, like maybe I am cold or something, because I haven't reacted with the major outrushings of grief that Liz and Mom have. Don't get me wrong; I have wept and sobbed over A.'s death. I never quite know when it's going to hit me. I can be watching "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and start bawling. But except for those moments, and except for when I'm listening to J. or Liz or my husband talk about A.'s life and death, I have remained pretty calm. Perhaps it's partly because I can recognize that A. never "fit" into this world, and now she's somewhere that she can, I pray, find in death the peace that escaped her in life. I don't know for sure why I'm feeling this calmness, but I'm grateful for it.

Sometime in October, I made the decision to quit watching R-rated movies. I went years where I never even thought to watch one, but I started watching them around '99 or 2000. I kept insisting that it didn't affect me, and I was careful in what I watched, but that's not true. They did affect me, and I can see it all the more clearly now that I no longer watch them. I started to watch a movie the other night that had been described as a very funny and enjoyable movie, but had to turn it off after about 15 minutes because it was just disgusting. I didn't find any humor in the sexual innuendos, particularly some that were pedophilic (is that even a word?) in nature. I don't know that I would have even paid those things any heed before. So yes, they did affect me in a way that I am not comfortable with. I'm glad they're not in my life anymore.

Also, my husband has long hated the fact that I used to watch the police and crime shows on TV. I told him that I grew up with a mother who was a forensic investigator, and have read and watched police and crime novels and shows all my life, and kept watching. But when I moved back home after Joe and I had been separated for a few months, I decided to try paying attention to his concerns. It truly bothered him that I watched CSI and Law & Order, and it certainly didn't hurt me to quit watching those shows. So I quit. On the night I learned that A. had probably been involved in a homicide and was herself killed in a police shootout, I thanked heaven that I had paid attention to my husband and quit watching those shows. I don't think I'll ever watch them again. Liz said she turned on CSI Thursday night, through sheer force of habit, only to turn it off within about 5 seconds. It's amazing how your perspective changes when your life is closely touched by crime.

Please don't think this is a condemnation in any way of people who watch R-rated movies or crime shows. It's not. It is, rather, a recognition that I am happier having made the decision, for whatever reasons, to eliminate them from my own life.

More moving on stuff: Joe got a fantastic job offer from a company that he has been wanting to work with. It is a great opportunity for him, and I'm so glad that this worked out. Also, I got notice from the teacher certification program that I have been accepted into the English-Language Arts-Reading Grades 4-8 program. I am taking my content area exam on February 18th, and can then start applying for teaching jobs for the 2006-2007 school year. And Joe went to church yesterday for the first time since I had my hysterectomy performed, a few years ago. That's perhaps the best thing of all.

Two Losses

There are two losses here. There is the loss of my sister's life, the fact that she's no longer in this world. And then there's the loss of something else, something indefinable, but it's gone. And it's that loss that's harder for me to bear than the other.

Somehow losing A. has made it possible for me to distinguish between the person she was and the person she became. I'm glad for that. I have always loved her, and I always will. But I loathed the person she became, while cherishing the person she was. She hungered for love, but always turned away from it when it was there. Her last boyfriend, J., is a loving, kind man. I told him yesterday that he is adopted into our family. I'm so sorry that A. couldn't light the darkness within her and allow J. to love her and to freely love him. For she did love him, that I know.

During the time that A. was living with me and Joe, the subject somehow came up of toys. I remarked, as I often have, that I always wanted an Easy-Bake oven, and never got one. One day she came home with an Easy-Bake oven for me. We gleefully baked all the mixes that came with the oven, and ate everything, and had a delightful time. I later gave it away to a charity, so that some other little girl who always wanted an Easy Bake Oven could get one and enjoy it. That's the kind of sweet thing that A. Would do.

Our whole family is seriously messed up. Yet some of us persist and pull through the crap to live a decent life. Others don't. What makes the difference? It's not worth--I believe that each human life is of the same intrinsic value. It's not strength--A., for example, had a lot of strength that was misapplied. I don't know.

I always thought there would be time. I thought that one day A. would wake up and realize that she had trashed her life, get tired of it, and do something about it. But the time is gone. At least, earthly time. I do believe that she is still in existence, and believe that she has a chance now to make something of herself. She never fit into this world. Liz said that she was "born broken." That's probably the best way to put it. A. seemed to think that she had to walk in the path of her birth mother, like a fate she could not escape.

I know these questions have no answers, but I can't help asking them. Did we do enough? What could we have done differently? Does she know that we love her, no matter what?

That's what I've been praying for. I've begged Heavenly Father to make sure she knows that I love her, that I always have and always will.

I want to write a letter to the P. Family and express my sorrow for their loss. I also want to write the police officer who shot my sister, and tell him that I have no anger for him; he was doing his job, and did what he had to do. I'm sorry that he had to do it, for his sake, but it had to be done.

I'm so grateful for our friends who have reached out with love and compassion, reserving any judgment. They help us all get through this. I get sick every time I hear the telephone ring, but I'm hopeful that the worst of it is over, and now we can begin to heal.

Memories

I have some photos of A. that our grandmother took. A. had the chickenpox, so she had red spots all over her body. She had gotten out of the bathtub, and refused to allow our grandmother to dress her, and instead dashed over to her rocking horse and rocked madly away, buck naked.

I remember one day when A. had come over to spend some time with me. We took a walk, and she wanted a soda. Instead of asking for one, she mimed gulping down a soda, smacking her lips with satisfaction, and then making an "aaah" sound. I pretended not to understand what she wanted, and she kept doing it over and over.

Another time I was going to buy her a treat, and asked what she wanted. She gleefully asked if we could get a can of chocolate frosting, and share it! I was totally grossed out by the thought, and refused, but got her something else that she enjoyed almost as well.

When Joe and I were newlyweds, we had A. over to spend the night a few times. Once I took her with me when I was getting the truck washed at one of those automatic car washes. I told her, with dramatic emphasis, that after the wash cycles were finished, a huge vacuum was going to go over the car and suck up all the water. I said it in such a way that she would think I was joking, and the look of delight on her face when the vacuum cycle actually did suck up all the water was beautiful.

Once when the parents were out of town, I was staying at their house keeping an eye on things. Liz was still in high school, and A. was in elementary school. A. was going through a hating to bathe phase, and flat out refused to take a bath. She was nasty stinky, and I was determined that she would bathe that night. Finally I got tired, and filled the tub with water and told her that if she didn't get into the bathtub by the time I counted to 10, I'd throw her in with her clothes on. She giggled and laughed, thinking it was all a game, until I threw her in with her clothes on. She sat there for a moment completely speechless. Then her face started to get red, and she opened her mouth and began to bellow. "I'm going to tell Mommy! I'm going to tell Daddy!" and she went down the list of everyone she was going to tell on me. I calmly stood there and waited for her to finish roaring, at which point I said, "You know what? Mommy's going to think it's funny. Daddy's going to think it's funny. Liz and I think it's funny. And I think if you stop yelling for a minute and think about it, you'll think it's funny, too." She sat there for a minute, and then started laughing. Of course, she hated having that episode brought up in later years, and probably never laughed about it again.

During that same week, we taught her how to make a family dish called "Something Different." Mom had whipped it up when, as a newlywed, Dad unexpectedly brought someone home for dinner when she had nothing to fix. A. made the dinner on the night our parents were expected home from their trip. When we asked her how she liked it, she said, "It's distinctly good, because I made it!"

Once Liz and I took A. out to dinner. She ordered spaghetti and meatballs, and the food was taking a little longer to arrive than she thought appropriate. She took her knife and fork and banged them on the table, yelling, "Where's my eats, woman?" Liz and I shrunk under the table and tried unsuccessfully to pretend that we didn't know A.

One day I had taken Liz and A. for a ride. A. was in the back seat, belching as obnoxiously as possible. She could belch on demand as loudly and violently as any boy I've ever heard. Liz began getting disgusted with it after a while, and proclaimed that "belching isn't funny. Snorting is." I laughed my butt off when A. began snorting, and carried on for the remainder of the ride. Liz wasn't amused by the fact that she opened herself up for it, and had no one to blame but herself.

One of those life-changing days

I wonder. If one knew in advance that a day was going to be a horrible, terrible, life-changing day, would it be easier? If when the alarm went off, it could say, "Warning! Today will suck beyond the imagining of it," would it make it a little easier to deal with what is coming, or would one still be in denial until the terrible thing happened.

I don't know.

Eleven days ago, a man was murdered. I live in a different state, and didn't know anything about it.

This afternoon I got a phone call from my sister Liz. She had gotten a phone call from J., the former boyfriend of another of our sisters, A. J. wanted to talk to A., who told him that she was living with Liz. She wasn't. J. said that the police had gone to talk to him, and informed him that they needed to speak with A. in connection with the murder of the man.

Liz and I were sickened by the mere thought that our sister had been involved in a murder. We were nervous about letting our mother know, as she is in poor health. Our mother is a trouper, and handled it far better than we dared hope. She called the police, talked with them, and then let us know what she had learned. A. wasn't suspected of actually firing the shot that took the man's life, but was definitely believed to have been with the person who did.

When I got home from work, I called the police officer to give him some information on A.'s half-sister who might possibly have had some knowledge of where A. was. He didn't take the information from me, but said that they had some new information and that he was going to my mother's house to talk to her. Thinking that perhaps they knew where A. was or even that she was in police custody, I tried not to worry about things.

The phone rang about half an hour later. My mother, sobbing, told me that A. is dead. She and the man that had committed the robbery and murder with her were on the move, and had gotten involved in a police chase in another state. Their car crashed, and the man got out of the car firing shots, and was killed by police. A. got out of the car, brandishing a knife and making threats, and was killed by police. Apparently she was close enough to an officer that she could have killed him, and they had to shoot her.

I hold no malice or anger whatsoever to the police. They were doing their job.

I can't believe that A. is dead. But even harder to believe is that she could have been involved in a murder. I had no trouble believing that she was involved in a robbery that went wrong--she has been a drug addict for some years, and drug addicts do all kinds of things to get drug money. I believe the police when they say that she was there and was involved; and if she was participating in a robbery that ended in homicide, then there is nothing more to be said.

My heart aches for the family of the man who was killed. I saw his picture, and he looks like my late father-in-law. He was a hero. And his life was taken for nothing.

My heart aches for my mother. She loves A., and couldn't love her more if she'd given birth to her. My mother taught A. right from wrong, and adored her, and has been heart-broken by her continued bad choices.

My heart aches for M., A.'s daughter. She has been in the sole custody of her father, who has since remarried, for two years. I hope her father can keep her from this knowledge for now, but eventually she will know what her mother did and be hurt by it.

My heart aches for A. I keep wondering if I could have done something that would have made a difference for her. Maybe I could, probably I couldn't have. Either way it doesn't matter--it's done. She's gone.