not like...blankity blank blank...like swear words. no no no, i'm much too transparent to bleep those out. i would have just said them, for Pete's sake (whomever Pete is.) Blank is my friend for the evening. I have a feeling he will be here for the remainder of the night. I have no idea why i'm so wide awake. no wait...i do know why. i went and saw a late night movie, thank you very much, Mountain Dew. Just Go With It. good flick. i liked it...even on the second trip. but jeeze!!! $8.75 for a blankity blank blank movie ticket??!?! on a TUESDAY NIGHT!!! come on!!! i guess i deserve it for sneaking in the Mountain Dew in my duffel bag of a purse. fine. (check out the trailer. it's a good movie.)
i apologize to my faithful following (however minute you may be.) i have not posted in a week. maybe it has been a good break for you! for some reason...i've drawn blanks. hence the title. writer's block is an actual condition, did you know that??? well, thanks to google.com i do know. i get ideas though, at the strangest times. like, i can't pull over on the highway, doing 74mph to jot down my thoughts. be they intriguing, or vaguely bland like white rice on a paper plate. and, unfortunately (for you, of course) i can't stop mid-stride at a hockey practice, drop my gloves (even to fight) and pull out a pen to write down what's going through my mind on my sweaty palms. there are 2 reasons. 1.) who carries a pen with them while playing hockey?!?!? and 2.) eww, the ink would rub off on my sweaty hands. gross. also...it would get ink on the inside of my gloves. come on.
maybe i should carry around a voice recorder. maybe even the ones that alter the sound of your voice, that might be fun. but probably not. it would scare me as i listened to it play back. not only because of the voice alteration...but just to hear my thoughts out loud. ooo, scary!
Thanks guys, whomever you are, that read this malarcky of thoughts jostled around in my head. it's like you're in on this with me. you get to read my life as it pans out. which could also be scary. like, it could be the last thing you read/think about before you crawl into bed. then maybe you dream about going to a hockey game and seeing a hockey player stop dead in his tracks and take off his gloves like he (or she) is gonna brawl...but is really just pulling out an ink pen shoved behind his/her ear under the helmet to write something down.
thanks again for stalking, errr, i mean, reading my life.
i may be a little biased when it comes to the best dog award. the Westminster Dog Show aired its Best in Show last night. I'll be honest...it was hard to flip away to watch The Biggest Loser. spoiler alert...the Red Team had to send another member home. Arthur lost a staggering 20 pounds in ONE week!!! Go Arthur! (I'm also a little partial to the Black Team).
when he wants me to play with him
Anyway...those dogs were soooo cute!!! I don't care if they walk pretty, dance pretty, or smile, they were cute. and THAT'S why i wanted to watch...not to see the handler prance around in flats and pencil skirts. that's probably why i never made a career out of dog judging...how can you??? my dog surely would never win Best in Show...what with the crusties under his eyes, his bushy eyebrows and horrendous bark...but he's still cute. he follows me around the house like a shadow. he's the world's best "the mail's here!" dog. if i fail to hear the mail truck delivering the mail to our house, he will come in and let me know. it never fails. he's so faithful. notice i didn't say predictable. i mean...i know that if the mail comes and i don't know it, he will let me know. i know that if i drop something that's not edible... (even to humans) on the floor, that i had better be faster than him. i know that every time someone walks by outside, he will be on the arm of the couch using his "i'm gonna eat you if you don't hurry up and walk past this house" bark. i know that every time i walk through the door, i'm good for about 15 high jumps, a few kisses and a trip to the treat cupboard. i know all of those things. and so does he. he answers to many names. his given name, Stuart. (thank you mom). he also answers to, "puppy!" "brudder!" (that's brother with a 'd') and various other pet names. he knows when i'm sad. after an exhausting workout, he comes and lays his head next to mine on the floor. when we are the only ones in the house...he's sitting on my lap when im in the living room. he's sitting at the threshold of my bedroom door if im on the computer. he's laying on my bed. he's seriously there all the time. he's the best high-fiver ya ever did see! he loves taking car rides...as long as they are short. and as long as they are to Tim Horton's to get a snack. he likes to eat the chocolate chip cookies. also their bagels. don't worry, dog-lovers, i don't give him the chocolate parts.
He's 9. and i love him! so much!!!
and before i forget...i must give a shout-out to my other favorite dog. she lives in another state...on the other side of the country. her name is Penny. she's the best cuddler. she's a golden...more like, copper. hence the name...Penny. she's my aunt and uncle's dog. it's crazy how well a dog can understand you. here's a story. one day, while doing some yard work, i stopped to sit on the ground. i was listening to my mp3 player and a song came on (From Where You Are) by Lifehouse. the song stopped me dead in my tracks because it reminded me of a friend that passed away after she was killed in a single car accident. She had been on my mind that day a lot for some reason and when the song came on, i knew i just needed to sit down and listen to it play out. (miss you Ashley J.) Penny was running amok in the yard playing with her toys, completely enthralled by the taste of the dirt on her squeaky toy, endearingly named, baby. she must have realized i was no longer around. she came somberly over to me, put her head on my lap as if to say, "just pet me, it'll make you feel better." So i did. and when the song ended, before i moved to stand up, she picked her head up and walked away with a quick jaunt back over to her baby.
Thank you for understanding me, Pen Pen! i miss you!!
actually, more like, who i want to be when i grow up.
answer: a mom
details:
-with 4 kids all skating in hockey skates by the age of .02 hours, forcibly. ;)
-oh yea, i always forget the most important half, a man! of course you need a man!!! hahaha!
I used to NEVER want kids. and i never shared why (truthfully.) i mean, i always acted like one, sometimes, i still do. why wouldn't i want them? This is why i didn't...i was afraid of them!!! it's true, i was, and sometimes, dangit, i still am!!! I wasn't confident in who i was as a person so it was like i was making up their mind before i even gave them a chance to make up their own.
(ok...this might be overdoing it..but you get it...)
for most of my life, i was always told i'd make an excellent school teacher. my thought, "well, they do get summers off..." but i never thought much beyond that. and when you're 12...how could you? my 'hatred' of kids followed me, and doomed me. it doomed me into loving them. when i went away to college, we were required to participate and contribute to a ministry once a week off-campus.
I'm quite certain there was fasting and prayer and gnashing of teeth for the weeks leading up to my 'randomly' selected outreach by the Dean of Ministry. Random. Yes...'randomly' I GOT KIDS!?!?!??!! Young, inner-city kids. Randomly. are you KIDDING ME!!??!?!
I believe it was the 2nd or 3rd time that we were scheduled to go (we went in groups of 3-5ish), i was on tap to share an interactive Bible story. OMG!!! ME!!?!! i'll get eaten alive by those little monsters!!! But i did it. and, if you haven't figured it out...i lived. truth is, i was more blessed by those little monsters than i think they were blessed by me. one little man came walking up to me, plopped himself on my lap as i read him a story and said, "did you know that Jesus loves you?" That was it. i was broken for them. from that time on, i have envisioned a houseful of them, my own houseful (don't worry, Mom....) The next year, i got a youth group full of middle-schoolers. my senior year, a dry youth group of all the ages mixed together. the second half of my senior year, a team member on a youth drama/service team that traveled to other cities ministering to youth groups through various ways. skits, camp counselors, worship team, service jobs...you name it.
ayyyy yiiii ayyyyyy....i hate the way i feel on the days that i have to work overnight. as each minute passes, i use my abacus to count down how many more hours until i have to leave and go to work. i don't like living that way. it's a drag. but sometimes...work is a drag. (and by the way, i don't have an abacus, my fingers work just fine.) 8 hours, 15 minutes before i leave for work. when i leave, everyone is usually sleeping. it's not that i hate my job...well, sometimes i hate it. i think more than hatred of the actual job, i hate the uncertainty. with patient sitting, it's a grab bag. for awhile i was sitting with sleeping, suicidal patients. it was torture trying to keep awake...but i'd rather do that over some of the other fun times i've had...
but it's just what i get! i call half hour before my shift starts, and get my room assignment and the floor. on days that i work, i hate sitting around doing nothing. on days that i don't work, i hate even more sitting around doing nothing. so, how do i waste my time...watching reruns of The Office. i hate to say it...facebooking. lately, playing Mario for the wii. (but i did beat it so it's not as often...)
when i'm at work...i waste my time sitting there, staring at a sleeping patient (if the tv isn't on, which is another time waster...) sometimes, i do twiddle my thumbs. if the patients are awake and coherent, they look at me with bewilderment and ask, "you didn't bring even a book with you while you babysit me?" i chuckle and say, "no, i'd fall asleep if i read in a warm, dimly lit room." they laugh, roll over and fall asleep (if i'm lucky....)
perhaps one day i will think of jumping
more elegantly. maybe like this...
if i'm not, i warily stare at the nearest clock and use my abacus, i mean my fingers, to count down how many more hours are left on my 8.5 hour shift. and then i recede deep into my mind and pray that nothing goes awry for the remaining time. sometimes, it works out. other times...not so much. those are the days that instead of staring at the clock, i plan what my escape route would be. sometimes, it involves me yelling for a nurse, or the nearest help. other times, my visions involve me diving out a window with the most perfect 10 dive ya ever did see. most times, though, it involves me jumping out of the chair or stool im sitting in like dynamite lit my behind on fire, landing on the ground and running as fast as i can to my car ( i may even take the stairs with the amount of adrenaline pumping through my body at 4:30am and beat that friggen elevator), desperately hitting the unlock button, slamming the key into my car's ignition and gunning it out of that parking garage. all with finesse, of course. cuz it's not like i get to wear my pajamas or jeans...i gotta look nice. so i wear my most comfortable dress shoes just in case a situation like that should arise. (sometimes i feel like this...)
hmmm...how much time did i waste writing all of that down? enough, im sure. but tonight, i shall do it again! every night, my routine gets cleaner and cleaner. maybe tonight i won't have to count on my fingers. maybe i'll just know that when the clock is sitting (forever it seems) at 2:39am, there's only (hang on.......) 4 hours and 19 minutes left before i get to go home. (yes...i did look up and to the left and count on my fingers) as if looking up and to the left helped me at all...maybe it made me look smarter, like i was actually thinking about it.
i don't wanna waste my time, though. i wanna make every second count. so how do i do that??? it's something i am trying to figure out everyday...i think it may even be one of the ways i waste time at work whilst i sit and stare at a sleeping giant. errr, i mean patient. thank you for wasting your time with me and reading this blog. Congratulations, you're in! =)
right side: i used to be sad
left side: now im not
I think sometimes, some people may use a blog to hide who they really are. this is unfortunate and sorry...but a misuse of a blog. i'm not saying you need to; air your dirty laundry, list your social security number, name the prescriptions you take or leave your cell number. all i'm saying is...use a blog for the benefit of others gaining knowledge (and if you're lucky...) wisdom from personal experience, tragedy, trauma and life.
i'm generally a happy person...generally. ;)
9 miles! (with God this time...)
but i haven't always been. In fact there have been a few years where i was completely lost and very unsure of who i was, what i was doing and what good thing i had to offer anyone...including myself. i think going through droughts like that can define you, your character, your courage, bravery, stupidity, what have you. i think it can also carve out a new person, help you discover a new depth maybe you thought was lost in the thickness of that depth. you will always be you...i will always be.......i. but...a deeper person exists in all of us. when we tap into that depth, that realization of who we really are, when we allow God to use us in the manner that He has intended for us to be used, nothing can get in our way. I tried to live a pretty safe life. I didn't really venture out of my comfort zone, i didn't really want to try a challenge because of my own fear of failure. Even, as crazy as this sounds, a fear of success! yes...that does exist.
about a year ago i decided i wanted to run. i thought, "If i can sit here and watch a 500 pound man run a mile without stopping, then i can." So i did. and have been for the last year, consistently. I have run without stopping (physically in 2 different ways). i did run that mile...then i ran miles. then i ran more miles. and kept running miles and miles away from God. i stopped myself in time to realize i wasn't who i wanted to be. and more importantly, i wasn't who God had intended me to be. I was running away from it and from Him.
26.2 marathon...here i come!
it didn't take long for me to fall into the mercy of His ways and understand that i'll never be too far gone from Him. I was the one running and turning my face away from Him...He wasn't. He promises He won't. and He's never let me down...only i have.
I used to be sad and searching. Now, i'm happily waiting and plodding along in the path that has been laid out for me. sometimes it feels like a nice walk on a winding path, other times it feels like a 9 mile trek up and down hills. all i have to do is keep walking (or running) in the path that He has laid out for me.
I used to be sad and unsure. Now i'm happy and ready to face the new things that are in store. i used to not really care. now every day is a chance.
live life on purpose i say! live on purpose.
having a place other than work or even home to feel that feeling you get when you breathe in deeply and exhale is a bonus. if home is where the heart is...then i must be destined to live in an ice rink. a sheet of freshly cleaned ice is like a welcome mat to me. a tiny blade under my foot keeps me from freezing cold feet and allows me to glide so (or not so) elegantly. i am in love. it's true. 200 feet of oval, blue line, red line, goal line, white, shimmering ice is my love affair. i love hockey. absolutely. once i slip that helmet over my face, wipe the extra bangs out of my eyes and buckle up the straps, i feel whatever Superman felt before he took flight. I felt what Batman felt when he looked up and saw his spotlight shown in the night sky. Anyone??? Invincible.
BUT! standing on a sheet of ice by yourself can get boring. throw in some more bodies, high school drama and an abundance of laughter and you're a coach. (disclaimer...im not TECHNICALLY a coach, no, i'm not certified.) Minor details...
i don't blow whistles, draw on dry erase boards, sharpen skates, or scream and yell.
but let me tell you, those girls would be lost without someone (me) filling up those friggen water bottles! and i'm happy to do so. I'm busy. i currently have 3 different jobs. 2 are sub jobs (but can count on them at least 2 times a week) and the 3rd at a hospital which is steady. i get paid for those jobs. i spend most of my time at the rink. sometimes 4 times a week. i don't get paid to do that. but the amount of joy i have lugging around my heavy hockey bag into that rink is.......well, there are no words really. and whatever word i could scrounge up would not suffice. lets just say that in my daily agenda on my desk the first thing listed is whether or not i have hockey to go to...then if i have to work, or have any OTHER things to do. hockey is listed first. not just because i love that silly sport, but because i love those silly girls. There's only about 5 more weeks left, then i'll have to fashion one of those paper chains together like we did back in elementary school...counting down the days 'till Christmas.
I'm not a coach (not technically anyway) but i feel like it sometimes...i would like to be some day. But for now, i'll fill up water bottles, tape sticks, open doors, crack backs, give rides, carry sticks, loan out hockey gloves and make puppy chow until they pay me the big bucks. And even then, i still wouldn't mind it.
i apologize to my faithful following (however minute you may be.) i have not posted in a week. maybe it has been a good break for you! for some reason...i've drawn blanks. hence the title. writer's block is an actual condition, did you know that??? well, thanks to google.com i do know. i get ideas though, at the strangest times. like, i can't pull over on the highway, doing 74mph to jot down my thoughts. be they intriguing, or vaguely bland like white rice on a paper plate. and, unfortunately (for you, of course) i can't stop mid-stride at a hockey practice, drop my gloves (even to fight) and pull out a pen to write down what's going through my mind on my sweaty palms. there are 2 reasons. 1.) who carries a pen with them while playing hockey?!?!? and 2.) eww, the ink would rub off on my sweaty hands. gross. also...it would get ink on the inside of my gloves. come on.
