When Life Gives You a Gut Punch

 

Checking in here with a little life update as I've been very absent from this space. We've just had a really tough couple of years around here! My girls got my husband this shirt for Father's Day. It's a joke, yes, though he really is quite the farter. Sadly, that is also one of the side effects of chemotherapy, and this photo was taken on day one of cycle three of his chemo journey. 

In April, my Mister was diagnosed with stage IV cholangiocarcinoma, a rare and aggressive cancer that starts in the bile ducts of the liver. Unfortunately, this is a type of cancer that is most often not discovered until it’s very advanced. Everything happened very quickly as our first hint that anything was wrong was just the first week of March when he went in for some routine blood work for his regular checkup. Following that discovery, he went through quite a bit more blood work, along with a sonogram, CT scan, and a biopsy. He started receiving a chemotherapy and immunotherapy cocktail infusion in late April and will continue with that for 12-15 weeks. 

 

Following that, the plan is to continue with monthly immunotherapy infusions, all with the goal of stabilizing things to keep the tumors from spreading or getting larger. The cancer is too far advanced for either surgery or a liver transplant, but with this treatment plan, we’re hopeful he’s got a few more good years ahead. With the chemo starting in late April, he’ll hopefully be through with that portion of his treatment before class starts back in late August so he can continue teaching the next generation of welders. 

 

Cycle 4 of chemo starts this Friday, and he has his next PET scan July 8. His treatment is through UFHealth, and we’re very happy with his team, led by Dr. Joseph Mignone. I had a great experience with UFHealth with my total knee replacement last Fall, and we feel he is in good hands for this journey. This has been a super gut punch, but my Mister is working through it with his trademark humor, and we're tackling projects around the house he feels up to to keep his mind off things. Our girls are home for the summer, so it's been a blessing for him to have them here. We appreciate all the prayers and good mojo you can send us on this totally unexpected journey. 

Total Knee Replacement Surgery is Not for the Faint of Heart

 

I’m four weeks and a day post total knee replacement surgery today, so I thought I’d share an update … along with my super sexy outfit for the day. I will say the first time I tried to put the compression socks on by myself, about 2 weeks post surgery, it took me about 20 minutes and required a post-battle nap, but I’m getting better at getting them on now!

Surgical bandage was removed 10/30 and steri-strips applied - those are very similar to butterfly bandages. The steri-strips fall off when they are ready, and I’d say I’m down to about half of them now. The lovely 9” incision is healing well. It’s covered by the knee sleeve in this pic.

PT is serious hard work, y’all! My therapists have determined the natural makeup of my knees are just a little crooked, and my surgical knee still has quite a bit of scar tissue left over from my 2012 surgery on that same knee. So at therapy this past Monday, Dom decided he was going to tackle that scar tissue. He took a metal tool that resembled a butter knife and then with full strength of his very strong arms, pushed the metal along the side of my knee where he felt the most scar tissue .. and did that for about 15 minutes. This is called the Graston Technique. Holy hell!!! I have not cried at PT and the only thing that kept me from crying then was Lori squeezing my hand and acting like a Lamaze coach telling me to breathe! I think that might have been just as painful as those first couple days when the nerve block wore off!

Anywho, back to PT tomorrow. I go twice a week and have quite a few exercises I do at home three to five times a day, and then ice and elevate after each session. I’m back to working half days (obvi from home since I can’t drive yet), basically alternating working for an hour with my exercises, icing, and elevating for an hour until Benny gets home from work. Then once he’s home and I have adult supervision so I don’t fall, I get on our stationary bike for a bit. I’m getting about a 50% rotation on the bike and a 90 degree bend on my knee at this point. The goal by end of therapy is 115-120 degree bend by 12-15 weeks.

Things I’ve learned in the event you have a total knee replacement in your future: So, the pain pills … while they are super important in the first week or so, and definitely get ahead of the pain you will feel when the surgical nerve block wears off anywhere from 24-36 hours post surgery, I stopped taking them after the first week because I much preferred to drop the kids off at the pool, shall we say. One of the side effects of the pain pills is severe constipation, so hindsight 20/20, I’d recommend taking a laxative every time you take a pain pill! And back to the nerve block: those first 24-36 hours you will feel like “Heck! This isn’t bad at all!” … and then that nerve block wears off quite suddenly and you are now regretting your life’s choices. Get ahead of that pain! Unfortunately my pharmacy did not have the pain pills in immediately, so my nerve block wore off before my pain pills hit. It was not pretty. There were definitely tears. The second thing I'd make you aware of is the fatigue. I literally need to rest after taking a shower! Doc said that fatigue lasts a good 12-16 weeks. It’s getting better, but I still tire pretty easily. I’d also recommend some mental health therapy. My therapist Dom has a background in sports psychology so we talked about this a bit. As someone who is used to being constantly on the go - and likes being constantly on the go - the clipping of my wings has been really hard on me. Not being able to drive has been challenging; I’ve had great help from friends and Benny getting me to PT, but simply not being able to jump in the car and run out for an errand has been really mentally hard on me. I thought I’d be able to enjoy some downtime in my art studio but that hasn’t worked out because I can’t be on my feet for long due to trying to keep the swelling down. I have my next appt with the surgeon 11/25, so I’m gonna recommend to him that he consider adding a little mental health therapy to the physical therapy for future patients.

All in all, my PTs tell me I’m progressing well. I will say it has been pretty humbling. I was in pretty good shape going into this - I’ve been athletic all my life and work out regularly. And while I’m sure that helped me some, this is still a very difficult recovery. I remember my primary care doc (whom I love!) kinda chuckling and saying “Well, you realize this is kinda like an amputation, right? They basically take your leg apart, saw some bone off, and put it back together with new pieces…” and me saying “Thanks, Dr Allen, that’s exactly what I needed to hear!” When I told that story to the PA removing my surgical bandage, he too kinda chuckled and said “He’s not wrong!”

In addition to being four weeks post surgery, I’m also four weeks until I go to NYC for a Christmas trip! Realistically I won’t be 100% by then, but prayers up I’ll be strong enough to make it work with some icing and elevating breaks worked in!

When Plans Change

Heads up: long, personal story post coming up … My husband always says, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans,” his way of saying those plans rarely go the way you’ve planned. 

Dad on his 80th Birthday

I shared back in this post that my sister and I were helping our Dad though a major life change. That major life change was a divorce, not of his choosing, at 80. His now former wife, Kathy, who filed the papers, is 78; she was his third wife, and they had been married nearly 28 years. When preparing to write this post, I noticed that the last time I posted here was August 6. Friday, August 8, my Dad died suddenly and unexpectedly of an apparent heart attack. As I had feared when I first learned of the divorce, the stress of the situation ultimately took his life.  

Because Dad passed prior to the divorce being final, Kathy got everything she wanted … him out of her life AND his social security and life insurance. To add insult to injury, my sister and I were paying Dad’s attorney’s fees because Kathy controlled all the money in the relationship other than his monthly social security payments, and she even refused to reimburse my sister and me the funds we spent on his behalf for the divorce she wanted.  

The previous four and a half months had been really challenging helping him through the divorce and working through what the next stage of his life would look like post-divorce. He and Kathy adopted Kathy’s grandson as an infant, so they were parenting a 12-year-old at the time of his passing. My sister and I knew that once the divorce was final, Dad would be living a pretty sad existence in an apartment, as he wanted to stay in West Palm Beach to be near the child. So when I learned of his passing, it was one of those surreal moments in which I really didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, I was sad that I’d lost my father, but on the other hand, I was relieved for him that he was no longer in that horrible situation. It’s been three months now, and I’m still wrapping my head around it. As life goes sometimes, it’s not lost on me that I also lost my mother – to suicide – in the middle of her going through a divorce from her third husband. 

Sunday Gratitude (on a Tuesday): FSU Mass Shooting, April 17, 2025

You wouldn't think I'd have any gratitude around a mass shooting, so I'll explain. So yes, in case you missed it, there was a mass shooting at Florida State University on Thursday, April 17, 2025. FSU ... my alma mater and the university at which my girls are graduating seniors. A 20-year-old student killed two and injured six before being taken down by FSU police. The two killed, both staff, have been memorialized. All but one of the six injured, all students, have now been released from the hospital. The shooter in still currently in the hospital. 

First, let me share this very powerful piece written by one of my daughter Sarah’s classmates; this describes what went on in the exact classroom Sarah was in during the tragedy. That fact that these students have been through active shooter drills for this is two-sided. It’s great that they have so they knew what do to, but it’s so incredibly sad that our kids are having to go through active shooter drills to prepare for a real event … we all hope that it won’t happen, and yet it continues to happen.

 

I was in contact with Sarah via text from the moment we got the FSU alert. Olivia was at work with me. I can only imagine the panic of the parents who weren’t able to reach their kids as quickly. And I can only imagine what these students and FSU staff experienced. But I can tell you how I felt as a parent to one of those students barricaded in a classroom for nearly three hours hiding from an active shooter on yet another campus where they should feel safe. And as a dear friend to someone who works on campus very close to the Union and is charged with trying to keep her students calm and safe in a very scary situation … I felt surreal panic. Like a “how can this really be happening” kind of panic. And a total helplessness. And not only worry for my daughter and friend experiencing it there on campus, but also worry for my daughter sitting next to me frantically texting her friends to make sure they were in a safe place.

All the News That's Fit to Print

All the News That's Fit to Print... Well, isn't that a mouthful? So it's been a minute since I checked in here, totally wrecking my goal to get back to blogging regularly in 2025. This art journal spread is the first I've done in nearly a month, which is super unusual for me, but life has definitely thrown me some curve balls lately. I usually keep things upbeat here for the most part. Don't so many of us on social media? While we may try to outwardly present that things are always sunshine are roses, behind the curtain, things may actually be stormy and weed-choked. Isn't that truly the case for everyone? So how about some real life today?

I've been dealing with some challenges at work that have really been draining me. For the sake of professionalism, I won't go into too much detail, but suffice it to say there are those that are in top positions of leadership and power who aren't always right, yet they don't seem to be able to admit their mistakes. I've been dealing with an issue that seriously has me considering retiring earlier than initially planned. As a friend on my board said to me, "People are just unhinged lately! Totally unhinged!" and she's so right! It seems that the current climate in our country either has people acting in ways that are totally out of character for them or is giving them the freedom to show their true nature. I'm not sure which in this case, but it's been a doosy. We give so much of ourselves to our careers, and at this point in mine, I'm really giving myself grace and self-love, standing up for myself and my limits of what I'll accept in regards to how others feel they can treat me. I deserve better. I'll be glad when this situation finally plays itself out, but it's been one for the record books for sure. Lawyers and all!

In my personal life, I've been dealing with something I never thought I'd ever have to deal with ... my sister and I are in the midst of helping our 80-year-old father through a major life change. It's not health related; we could have expected that. Just a major change in his personal life, the outcome of which will affect so many different variables that we are still trying to wrap our heads around. And there, too, we have to protect ourselves and be firm with just how much we are willing to do, and that's hard to do with a parent, but we still have to give ourselves grace and self-love and stand up for what we are and are not willing to do. It just plain sucks. 

And then there's Thursday, April 17, 11:58am, the moment my family's life crossed paths with what's sadly becoming a common occurrence in this country: another mass shooting. I live and work in Tallahassee, and my daughters attend Florida State University, the site of a mass shooting last Thursday. One of my daughters was at work with me about one mile from the Student Union, where the shooting started, but the other was on campus in class not far from the Union. Thankfully my girls are physically okay, though I'm sure experiencing something like that leaves permanent mental scars. It was a super scary, super sad day, and I'm still wrapping my head around it, so I'll share more on it later in the week.

So all this to say, sometimes life is just plain crappy, constant storm showers leaving muddy, weed-ravaged ground. We all have our "stuff" we are going through. Every single one of us. Be kind to one another, as we so often have no idea the challenges others are facing behind the curtain. Give yourself and others that same grace and love, and let's help each other through our battles. 

Sunday Gratitude: The Gift of BJ Hausman

Just over a week ago, I learned that my very dear friend and long time mentor BJ Hausman had passed away the previous day. Last Sunday, I attended her memorial service. We had been friends for 33 years, and in that 33 years, her impact on my life was immeasurable, both professionally and personally.

 

 

BJ was the person who started my Student Leadership Development career. And she also was the gardener who planted the seed that became my creative business. But first, let's talk my professional career. In 1992, BJ hired me to lead a new Student Leadership development grant program at Florida Community College at Jacksonville, now Florida State College at Jacksonville. She said that while I didn't yet have the Student Development experience for the position, she selected me because I had the marketing and public relations experience the project needed to get off the ground, and she knew she could teach me the rest. And that she did. I would not be in the role I am in now without BJ. Truly!

25 Years

If you're popping in here this week, I hope you've had a joyful holiday season, no matter how you celebrate! The holidays can be a challenging time for some, so if you are one of those people, I'm sending you a little extra love today. It's a tough time for me some days as well, especially today. Today marks 25 years ... 25 years! ... since my mother left this earth by her own hand. I have some ornaments on my tree that are special remembrances of my mom, and this is one. I gave this to her for Christmas in 1999, two days before she chose to leave us. The beautiful cloisonne egg in the lower left was also hers. The photo below was taken on Christmas Day that year, me at the top, Mom and my sister Kim below. In case you're new here, I'll share this post with you. It starts with a story that quickly poured out of me through a prompt from a mothers' art group I was part of at the time; I followed the initial writing with a 10-year followup in that post.

At 25 years, time hasn't changed much.

Anything but not Everything

I completed this spread in one of my art journals recently. "You can do anything, but you can't do everything." This is something that I have to remind myself of often. ⁣I saw a video posted by @awomancalledgeorge over on Instagram recently (I LOVE her) that really struck a chord with me. She shared that she had been diagnosed with adult ADHD and was struggling with that. As I listened to what led her to be formally assessed, I was shaking my head "yes, that's me too" constantly. (And it's not lost on me that perhaps that's why I relate to this woman so much in general) I'd never really thought about it, but once I did, I realized I have a lot of, um, tendencies? (not really sure what to call them? behaviors? characteristics? habits? tendencies?) that truly did point to that. So I took a free online adult ADHD test, and then another, and then another, and then another. I took at least four or five over the course of a few weeks. The questions varied, but the results of all of them pointed to the same thing: that I definitely show clear signs of adult ADHD.

Snapdragons and Crazy Brains

Funny story behind this journal I finished up yesterday regarding how my brain works. Comically, I have this theory that I can clean up my studio by finishing up projects. This never works. Why? Because my brain has a tendency to go down rabbit holes pretty quickly. I had been saving my Dove soap boxes to create some tiny journals like this one and decided I could use up some of the off cut paper on my table to make signatures for those tiny journals. I had several signatures all folded and ready to go when I remembered some graph paper I had that would be a nice addition to the signatures. I just knew that graph paper was in one of the cubbies over there under my laptop. Searching for that paper, I found the paper I used in this journal, but we aren't nearly there yet.

I came across this box of Fabriano Artistico folded cards that I'd had for years and had yet to use, so I pulled that box out and started folding a few sheets to see how it would work together for signatures. Beautifully!  I folded a few and then remembered that I had sat down on the floor actually looking for the graph paper for the tiny journals, so I sat that box down and set those few signatures aside and went back to looking for the graph paper. In one of the cubbies on the other side, I didn't find the graph paper, but I did find some books I had picked up from Goodwill that I thought would make good junk journals. But really, I'd had them for a while and they were in great shape and I did have a garage sale coming up, so maybe I should just put them in the garage sale ... so I proceeded to take all the pricing stickers off those and set them in a pile for the garage sale. Oh, right!  Graph paper, I was looking graph paper!  Oooh!!! Then I came back across the more than 100-year-old Bible I picked up at a neighborhood garage sale for $3. (Of course, I had to rescue it.) It was in pretty bad shape, but I figured I could clean it up and maybe even find its rightful owner.  Holding it in my hands again (graph paper, what graph paper?), I decided that at that moment, it was about dang time I did something with that Bible. So on a whim, I grabbed some scissors and trimmed down the cover where it had separated to just clean up the edges a bit thinking, hmmm, maybe I could fashion a new cover out of Kraft-tex.  I cleaned her all up and then started flipping through it again, and I came back across the memorial notice of one Paul Taylor who passed away at the age of 74 in 1954 in Deland. Tucked in with dear Paul's memorial notice, a family member had included some newspaper clippings and his obituary. Among other family members, Paul left behind daughter Helen Milliken of Tallahassee. Aha!  Perhaps that's how the Bible ended up in a garage sale in Tallahassee.

So off to Google I went to try to find Helen Milliken of Tallahassee. Of course, dear Paul was 74 when he died, so Helen was likely in her 50s then - in 1954 - so unless Guinness missed her as the oldest living human, she was no longer with us. But that did not stop me!  Maybe I could find dear Helen's obituary and find other members of her family still in Tallahassee. But alas, I could not find Helen Milliken of Tallahassee.  But hey!  Helen Milliken of Michigan, she's done some stuff!  She was the First Lady of Michigan Governor William Milliken and quite the political force in her own right! This Helen was the longest-lived First Lady in Michigan history, living to 99 years old and first lady for 14, and was a women's rights activist and environmentalist. During the 1970's, she was one of the leading proponents of the Equal Rights Amendment to the United States Constitution. The Equal Rights Amendment had been passed by the United States Congress in 1972 and was ratified by thirty-five states, including Michigan, in the next few years.^. When the 1980 Republican National Convention, held in Detriot, removed language supporting the ERA from the convention platform, Helen, still First Lady of Michigan at the time, boycotted the convention's opening ceremony to attend a pro-ERA protest. You go, Helen! Thank you! (and thank you, Wikipedia, for that nugget.)  

Well, since I could not find Helen Milliken of Tallahassee, I put the Bible back in its cubby for now. I had completely forgotten about the graph paper at this point, so I sat back on the floor and created more signature with that yummy Fabriano Artistico paper I found. And three days later, I finished this journal.  I still haven't found the graph paper, nor made any further progress on the tiny journals, nor cleaned up my studio. But I did finish this journal. I'll keep you posted on the Bible rehab! 

Saying Goodbye to our Sweet Molly

We had to say goodbye to our sweet Molly yesterday. We knew this day was coming, but that never makes it any easier. We could tell she really wasn't feeling well last weekend when we were home in Jacksonville, but she started declining rapidly early this week. By yesterday morning, she had not eaten anything since early Wednesday and was having labored breathing. When she wouldn't even take a Pupperoni, I knew it was time.

We adopted Molly from The Jacksonville Humane Society in December 2009. We had to foster her first because she had a broken leg, but once her leg was fully healed, she was fully ours. JHS staff's best guess was that she had been thrown out of a moving car because she had quite a bit of road rash along with her broken leg, but none of the internal injuries you'd likely see in a dog that had been hit by a car. Until her very last days, she was always very selective in who she trusted and rarely trusted men. A few years after adopting her, I learned by her ID number paperwork that she actually started her journey to us at Jacksonville's Animal Care Protective Services, my long time volunteer home, and then had been transferred over to JHS.

The girls and I had actually selected another dog from JHS, but when Benny came in with us to meet that dog, Molly had been placed in the kennel just below the other dog. And she was quiet. That was the key for Benny. All the other dogs were barking, but Molly was just quietly laying their watching us. Now granted, she was injured and scared, so truly, that's likely the real reason she was quiet, but that didn't matter. But lo and behold, once Molly was home with us, feeling better and settling in, we learned that she was actually quite the gifted talker ... and singer ... and howler. Isabelle was two when we adopted Molly, and they became fast friends. Isabelle was the perfect big sister, even staying downstairs with her when she realized Molly could not navigate the stairs with her cast. They were inseparable from the beginning. Molly remained shy and hesitant around strangers her whole life, and she followed Isabelle's lead in just about everything except that - Izzy never met a stranger. But once Molly decided you were okay, she loved you with her whole little wiggly body and her helicopter tail.

Molly's grief when Isabelle passed was really something to see. Along with our own grief of losing 'Belle, watching Molly grieve her was even more heartbreaking. I knew in my heart that she would not last long without her, and sure enough, she only lasted about six months. She was already really spoiled, but we ramped that up when Izzy passed and then ramped it up even more when we got her leukemia diagnosis. Benny got a little poetic with us in a text yesterday, saying she came into our lives knowing the hate of another human but left this world knowing so much love from us. I can only take solace in knowing that she's back with her best pal now, and she and Isabelle are running around with no pain, chasing bunnies and butterflies and teaching all the other dogs how to sing and howl with abandon. Run free, sweet Molly. We are blessed to have been your family. We love you so very much.

My thanks again to the amazing Dr. Diana Brown at Bradfordville Animal Hospital, who helped Molly make her way to the Rainbow Bridge to wait for us. We've lost three furry family members in the last year and a half - Pete, July 30, 2020; Isabelle, August 26, 2021, and Molly yesterday - and Dr. Brown was with us for the passing of each. I'm glad that Olivia chose to go with me and Molly yesterday because I knew Dr. Brown would help her feel better, and that she did. She is a gifted vet. There have been very few times in my life that I have not had a dog by my side. I know we'll welcome a new one or two home at some point, but for now, having lost two so close together, our hearts need to mend a little bit first. Our cats Zoey and June are going to be getting a lot of extra love. Jester June will love this; the magnificent Queen Zoey, not so much.

Isabelle: The Best Girl Ever

Thanks everyone for all the texts and calls checking in on me and Isabelle. I didn't have the strength to pop in to Facebook yesterday with an update because we had to say goodbye to our sweet 'Belle late yesterday afternoon. She had developed a severe case of peritonitis that, at her age, she just couldn't fight. She was in so much pain with no hope of recovery, so we and Dr. Brown helped her cross over to wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge.

 

 

I've had many dogs over my years, but my girl 'Belle was really my heart dog. We've been through some challenging times over her 14 years with us, and there's been many a night when what soothed me best was curling up with Isabelle in her bed. I adopted her as a puppy from one of my students who was trying to train her to be an epilepsy service dog, and she just didn't have the right skill set for that. But she did have the skill set to be the most loving companion we could ever ask for. She was two when we adopted Molly as a puppy from The Jacksonville Humane Society. Molly had a broken leg when we adopted her, and it didn't take Isabelle long at all to realize that Molly couldn't run up the back deck steps with her because of her cast, so 'Belle stayed downstairs with Molly until her cast came off. 

 

 

She was a gentle, tolerant and accommodating mama to our all Animal Care and Protective Services foster kittens and occasional foster dogs. When we were first fostering Zoey, our first foster failure, Zoey loved Isabelle from the get go. One night once the dogs had already gone to bed in their crates, I let the foster kits, including Zoey, out to run around and play a bit. When I was ready to put them to bed, I initially couldn't find Zoey. I walked around the corner, and she was so tiny that she had squeezed her little self right through the bars of Izzy's crate and sat there perched next to her. Isabelle looked at me like, "Mama, please get her out of here. I can only take so much before she really starts to look like dinner." Till the very end, Zoey loved her Isabelle.

 

 

She's been a fierce and loyal protector of her family, being sure to chase off all the marsh rabbits that could have hurt us, and she's been every visitor's favorite pup. Here in Tallahassee, she even sat in on all of our Chi Omega Advisory Board meetings that I've hosted, happily accepting butt scratches and treats, though she sometimes interrupted our conversations with her snoring.

 

 

I'm reminded of that old story about a family who had to say goodbye to their trusted pal. When the vet said he just didn't know why dogs couldn't live longer, the little boy had the answer. He said that God puts us all on this earth to learn how to love one another. Dogs are already so much better than we humans are at that so they don't have to stay as long. Isabelle was 65-70 pounds, depending upon how many treats she talked me out of, of rock solid, 100% love. She's really been the best girl, and we will miss her so very much. Please keep our family, and Molly, who's never known life without her big sis Izzy, in your prayers. God speed, sweet 'Belle. We'll see you at the Bridge. Many thanks to Dr. Diana Brown at Bradfordville Animal Hospital for helping us guide yet another of our furry family members over to the Bridge. We really must stop meeting like this.

When You Know You Need a Break ...

I've been in serious need of a mental health day, so the fam and I took a day to drive up to Providence Canyon State Park in Lumpkin, Georgia, to explore yesterday. It's a very cool place! Other than making jokes about being a medically diagnosed dizzy blonde, I don't normally share my health struggles, but I decided to share this in the event it helps someone.

First, menopause is no joke. (Men, please read that again... menopause is no joke.) I've been battling some side effects for a couple years now. I'm currently six weeks to the day into a maddening case of 24/7 tinnitus (the medical term for ringing in the ears.) I've had inner ear issues most of my life (which is what causes my vertigo), and I've just assumed the tinnitus is related to my ear damage, but I've also recently read it can be a side effect of menopause. Whatever the cause, it's hit me really hard.

I'm normally a naturally positive, glass-is-half-full kind of girl, but I have been truly struggling with this, and I hit a pretty low spot last week. Sleep is very hard to come by with a constant ringing in your ears, and lack of sleep compounds so many other things. For me, it's heightened my vertigo issues and caused a shingles flair up. My worst night was this past Tuesday when I got maybe a total of two hours of sleep. At one point, I remember thinking that, wow, I think I understand how my mother made the decision she did to end her life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not in the least bit having those types of thoughts about my own life, but just the idea that I understood that thought scared the hell out of me.

After a good pretty breakdown with a very dear friend over lunch and my husband later in the day on Wednesday, I called my doctor and got in to see him on Thursday. We talked a LONG time about a lot of things, and I've got several issues going on. Challenge is in determining the old chicken and the egg. My blood pressure was very high for me ... which could be causing the tinnitus which likely is causing the shingles flare up (for me, normally stress induced) and amping up my usual vertigo issues. Or all those things and having a conversation about things that are difficult to talk about may be increasing my blood pressure. Either way, he's put me on a blood pressure med, a mild anti-depressant and triple my normal valtrex maintenance dose for my shingles to knock the flare up back down. I see an ENT specialist Tuesday to see if we can do anything about the tinnitus, and I'll see Dr. Allen again in a couple weeks, or sooner if needed. If the ENT can't determine any cause for the tinnitus (which is unfortunately often the case with tinnitus), I will see a therapist for some other coping strategies other than the white noise app I'm currently using. Full transparency, I am hesitant to take the anti-depressant given my mother's history, so I'm not sure how I feel about that. Haven't started taking it yet.

Yesterday was a really good break for me, and once we got home, I just settled in on the couch and watched TV for a bit before going to bed early. So like I said, I don't usually share this kind of stuff, but .... men, listen to your wives/girl friends/whatever when they share menopause struggles and understand that they are very real. Whether my tinnitus is menopause related, who knows. And friends, take the time needed to take care of yourselves. As women, we so often take care of everyone else before we take care of ourselves, and I know I can absolutely be guilty of that. When you need help, don't be afraid to ask for it. Between all this mess, work stress, menopause, my girls getting ready to head off to college, losing one of my very best friends very unexpectedly in October, and, oh, a global pandemic and all that it's brought us, I've had to accept that I have a whole lot of pretty heavy stuff going on right now and ask for help. I think admitting all that is half the battle!

Saying Goodbye to My Person

I lost my best friend, Jim Phillips, a little over a week ago. When I’ve been trying to wrap my head around Jim’s death and thinking about how I could possibly share how special he was to me, I kept thinking about the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy when Meredith was talking about her best friend Alex (I know, crazy, right?). Alex was Meredith’s “person.” Silly as that sounds in a moment like this, that really sums it up for me. Jim was my person. He was the one I could count on for absolutely anything. My husband Benny has always referred to him as my “other husband,” so here we are in this top photo … me and my husband and my “other husband.”

When I lost my mom over 20 years ago now, Jim was one of the first people Benny called because he knew I needed my person, and Jim was there the next morning. When my girls arrived seven weeks early by emergency c-section and spent a month in the NICU, Jim made a day trip over to see them while they were still in the NICU. He was my person and wanted to be one of the first people to meet my babies. He was the third, after only my husband and my dad. When Benny had his massive heart attack five years ago and I was driving back and forth between the girls in Tallahassee and Benny in Jacksonville, Jim was my person. The day I came back over to Tallahassee after Benny’s surgery to be with the girls, it was my birthday. When I pulled up to the house, Jim was waiting in the driveway and immediately put me back in the car to take me to Barnaby’s for pizza and a beer. Didn’t even let me change out of my grubby yoga pants, t-shirt and flip flops.

 

Through happy times and sad times, he's always been there. Late night poker games (which he always won because he was always changing the rules), super early morning meetings after late night poker games, trips with our students to New York, singing Smashmouth's All-Star at the top of our lungs with our students in the van on the way back from taking them bowling, trips with other advisors who were our best friends, losing our sweet Vee, who was like a mother to both of us ... my memories of him have been flooding through my mind non-stop like a highlight reel of our lives on fast forward. We’ve been the best of friends for more than 25 years, and I never imagined I’d be saying goodbye to him at only 55 years old.

 

 

I last talked to Jim the day before we lost him. He called me that Thursday afternoon to tell me he was driving behind Livvie, who drives my 1999 Isuzu Trooper. Jim reminded me he’d know that Trooper anywhere because it has a dent in the roof from his butt, earned one night in the parking lot of the Doubletree Hotel in Tampa when he just had to rescue his parachuting Army Ranger guy off a wire it had gotten caught on. And we scheduled another lunch date; it was for this past Tuesday, the one lunch date he couldn't make. One of Jim’s greatest gifts was the ability to make everyone laugh, no matter the circumstances. He was the best friend, the best person, anyone could ever ask for. I am truly heartbroken for losing him …. and I am truly blessed for having had him in my life. At Jim's service this past Friday, one of his friends who eulogized him referred to the ripple theory of how dropping a pebble in the middle of a pond spreads ripples all the way out. He summed up Jim perfectly when he expanded that a bit. Jim was like a meteor going into the Gulf of Mexico. That was how big his ripple was. He always told me that anytime I nominated anyone for an award, they were guaranteed to win because I always wrote the best letters. These words can't possibly measure up to how special Jim was to me, to so many of us, but I hope he's reading them now and thinking I wrote another good one. Love you, Super Jim, my forever friend.

 

Please keep Jim's wife Vicky, kids Morgan and Mitchell, and all of us who loved him so dearly in your thoughts and prayers.

Missing my Best Pal

I've really been having a hard time getting back into the groove for about a month now, and I've realized it's primarily because I just plain miss my Spartacus Pete. It's been about a month since we lost him. He always hung out with me in my art studio, and it's a bit lonely there without him. This photo of him sitting smack dab in the middle of my jewelry bench is one of my favorites, and it now sits on the shelf above my workbench so he can keep an eye on me. ⁣ ⁣ 

We adopted a new kitty today. We met her last week, and she just got spayed this morning for pick up. Her name is June, and I'll share pictures later. It was a tough decision, and I'm not sure my and Sarah's hearts were quite ready yet, but we've been worried about Zoey. Prior to his death, she'd never been without him and she's been a little depressed. Since the girls are going back to school tomorrow, we decided it was time to find her a new pal. ⁣I know with all the craziness going on in the world, the loss of a pet may seem a small thing, but I think all the craziness going on in the world made it an even bigger thing for me. Pete left a paw size hole in my heart. I know my pet lover friends understand!

Sunday Gratitude ... and Having to Say Goodbye to my Best Pal

We had to say goodbye to our beautiful boy Spartacus Pete this past Thursday. So what can I possibly be grateful for about that? Stick with me for a few minutes. My sweet Pete had a cancerous mass removed in December. Doc told us that if it didn't come back within a year, we were likely good. I think Sarah and I were in a little bit of denial as it started coming back, always asking each other, "Is this his mass coming back or is this his bone? I can't tell. Can you?" We kept telling ourselves it was his bone. Long story short, we were denial, and his cancer had come back, but we didn't have that confirmed until another issue arose.

We were home in Jacksonville the week of July 13 taking care of some routine doctor and dentist appointments when I started noticing him acting strangely, his breathing labored. By the next day, I just felt in my bones that something was wrong, so we rushed back to Tallahassee to get him to his vet there. Turns out that not only had his mass on his side come back, but he also had a large mass in his chest which was creating fluid and flooding his lungs. Doc drained his lungs so he didn't have to struggle to breathe, and we decided to put him on some prednisolone, bring him home and love him for long as we could keep him comfortable. I couldn't bear to put him through surgery again, knowing the cancer would continue to come back.

Pete's always slept with me most nights, and he actually woke me up about 4am Wednesday morning - my girls' birthday - struggling to breathe again. I tried to comfort him and prayed hard for God to give him just one more good day so that he didn't die on the girls' birthday. I'm grateful God granted my prayer, as Pete soon was able to settle down, his breathing steadied, and he went back to sleep. He had a pretty good day Wednesday but started struggling to breathe again Wednesday night. Thursday morning he continued to have labored breathing and didn't want to eat even the best stinky wet food - and Pete loved to eat - so we knew it was time.

This boy brought us so much love and joy in his six short years. He was our first foster failure. We fostered him and his brother Repeat (yes, Pete and Repeat, and even we messed up the names), and hadn't planned on foster failing (of course, you never PLAN to foster fail). I took them both back to the shelter when they were ready for adoption, but three days later when Repeat had gotten adopted and Pete had not, we took that as a sign that he was meant to be ours.

He loved his toys and had them all over the house, but his favorites were the pillows out of the girls' doll house and his taco fish. The girls finally gave up and let him have all the doll house pillows, and he often left his taco fish for me on my pillow. He was a champion baseboard surfer, he loved to lay on my desk under the lamp whenever I was working on my computer or across Sarah's bed in a sunny spot with her, and one of his all time favorite places was on my left shoulder. He'd stand up on a counter or the bed and crawl right on up and hang out there, purring, as long as I'd let him. Sometimes I'd pass him from my shoulder to Sarah's, and he'd just keep on purring. He often held down the refrigerator for us so it couldn't get away, and he sometimes was that creeper who lain in wait on the top of the kitchen cabinets, just his eyes and ears peeking over the top.

Here's what I'm grateful for. First, the power of prayer. So incredibly grateful that the good Lord gave us that one extra day so he could be there, comfortably, for the girls' birthday. Second, in these days of COVID when we've all spent so much time at home, I'm grateful I had that extra time with him and grateful for those last 12 days we were given to help prepare us to ease his suffering. I'm grateful that we chose to foster kittens, and we chose to foster fail with this fella. And I'm grateful for every day and every cheek rub and every purr in the ear he gave us. I've cried a lot of tears over the past two weeks, but my boy is not struggling any more, and for that, yes, I'm grateful. See you at the Rainbow Bridge, my sweet Spartacus Pete, for I know we will meet again. Find Savannah; she'll show you the way. We were so blessed to share our lives with you. You were most certainly one of a kind, and I loved you with all my heart.

Best Shot Monday: Because Sometimes You Just Need to Hold a Puppy....

Meet Harry. Of course, he really didn't need a glamour shot because puppies are always adopted quickly, but sometimes you just need to hold a puppy, you know?  I've been in one of those states for about six weeks now.  I try to teach my girls about social media and remind them that all that perfection they see on Instagram is not real ... those people have real challenges, too, just like everyone else. 

Mamas fall prey to this sort of this thing, too, though for me, it's not so much social media comparison of my life that gets me. I think I feel that part more in real life than I do on social media. Some days, I know I just can't keep up! I don't spend a whole lot of time on Facebook - I have a few of my favorites set to see first, and then I get out of there ... so much negativity at times. And even though I usually try to just keep doing "me" and try not to worry about keeping up with everyone else, there are those days when the overwhelm hits and you - I - wonder how those "other moms" do it. (And then because you are so run down trying to keep up, you get the flu ... but that's a whole other story ...)

I try to remind myself that I'm juggling a whole heck of a lot, but I'll admit to getting a little jealous of mamas who don't work a full-time job outside of the home (though, yes, I know, those mamas have their own challenges, too .... I'm not trying to start a battle here ...). But we still try to do it all though, don't we? And heck, I'm 53 years old, quite a few years older than most moms with kids my age. I should know better! We're supposed to be older and wiser, right?!  Model by example, right?  I want my girls to strive to be their best and I want to be a role model, but sometimes I don't want to them to try to do everything I do. They don't need to hold down a full-time career, run a part-time creative small business, and hold down two volunteer gigs, on top of being be a mama and wife. It's funny though - my extras (my volunteer gigs and my creative endeavors) are what make me the happiest. The full-time career just pays the bills! So maybe that's another lesson to teach them?  Finding a career that doesn't feel like work is a magical thing ... I know I had something very close to that when I was still working on campus.

So back to that puppy ... which I get to play with through one of those volunteer gigs I love. Sometimes we all have those days, don't we? I admit that sometimes I get a little frustrated with people who come into the shelter who are clearly there just to play with dogs because they take volunteers away from those people who are there to really adopt, but now that I think about it, I get it. Sometimes you just need to hold a puppy ... they kinda make you feel like everything is going to be all right. We all need that every now and then, don't we?    

Best Shot Monday: Little Treasure

While we were home in Jacksonville for the Thanksgiving holiday, we did some yard work. This beautiful little treasure had fallen out of the ligustrum tree in the front of the yard and thankfully landed in the Japanese hawthorn shrubs below.  I was so impressed by all the intricate work and detail this little bird mama put into this nest.  The pieces of rope woven into it just amazed me.

After taking some pictures of it, Livvie and I placed it snugly back in the ligustrum tree in the event the mama wanted to come back and use it again. I was thinking about it last night and hoping that the recent windy storms we had didn't blow it back out of the tree where we can't find it.  We're heading back home to Jacksonville this Friday for the Christmas break, so I will be searching for it. If I find it again, I think that'll be my sign that it needs to live on my bookshelf!  

So how about our other nest?  I guess we've settled into having two. December marks two years since I started my new role in Tallahassee, and in many ways the two years have gone by quickly. We definitely had a challenging year over this past year with my husband's heart attack and his recovery, but we are coming through it okay. He's actually been working at home in Jacksonville since June, so we've all been doing a lot of traveling back and forth, but again, it's been working out okay.

I think back over these two years and all the times I've wondered if this would ever feel like home. The girls are thriving in the school here, which is the main reason I agreed to take on the new role. Though they both still miss "home" as much as I do, we've all tried to feather our nest here a bit more. We finally have pictures up on all the walls, Sarah has rearranged her room at least a dozen times, and we did quite a bit of Christmas decorating this year.  My sweet bonus daughter Courtney visited us here in Tallahassee just before Thanksgiving, and one of the first things she said was that the outside of the house was very pretty but it sure didn't look like us! Tallahassee's a pretty traditional town, and our neighborhood is very traditional brick.  We did paint the front door a bright red, and in a jolt of rebellion and a little reminder of our forever home, we put two bright turquoise chairs on the front porch. They are the only shot of bright color in the whole neighborhood, but the HOA president hasn't come after us yet.  :-)

We've been working on immersing ourselves here outside the house as well. The girls played city rec league volleyball all Fall and absolutely loved it.  We lucked into an incredibly patient and encouraging coach who started them off just right, so they are raring to go next year with the same coach.  I've become a regular volunteer at the shelter here, and that's helped me find some firmer ground.  And also I've taken on a little bigger advisory board role with our new executive board for my college sorority, Chi Omega, giving me the opportunity to mentor a few students weekly. I've really missed regular student contact in this new job. Benny's still figuring out what he's going to do for work when he comes back over here with us after the Christmas break (he most definitely was NOT ready to retire...), so we'll see where that takes him.

So there you have it.  We're still trying to fully catch our bearings in the wind, but our wings are working and our nest is starting to feel pretty strong. While I don't think it will ever fully feel like Home with a capital H, it's working out just fine as "home for now."  What's happening in your little nest?    

Best Shot Monday: Proof

Proof.  That's what Livvie said this is.  Proof that she "flew and caught" at camp. Last week my girls participated in Florida State University's Flying High Circus Camp. FSU's Flying High Circus has been in existence since 1947 and was first started by Jack Haskin as an activity in which both young men and young women could participate together.  1947 was the year FSU switched from the Florida State College for Women to the co-ed Florida State University you know today.  And they do circus camp!  You can read more about FSU's Flying High Circus here.

I knew this camp would push my girls, and that's why I enrolled them. I feel like it's my job as Mama to give them opportunities to push themselves out of their comfort zones, and this camp certainly did it.  Olivia is typically far less cautious than Sarah, so she was all about the high flying trapeze and the cloud swing. Sarah preferred the challenges that were a little more grounded .... and that's fine. That's what both Sarah and I had to learn. Of course, as Mama, I really wanted to see her up on that flying trapeze, and while she did try it a couple times, she felt far more comfortable a tad closer to the ground.  I think we learned a lot from each other this week, Sarah and me.  She learned that she really is stronger and braver than she thought she was; she did get up there on that flying trapeze three times after all.  Even if all she felt comfortable doing was swinging from her knees, SHE DID IT.  SHE GOT UP THERE!!! 

The last day of camp, they did a showcase where parents could come see the different performing events their children wanted to show them. Olivia, of course, wanted to show me the flying trapeze, as did most of the kids there, so while she was waiting in line for her turn, Sarah walked me around and showed me her moves on the trampolines, the tight wire, the juggling ring, and the static trapeze.  She's a very graceful girl and she was able to demonstrate that grace with these initiatives. Click here to see a quick video of her on the static trapeze. It was very clear to me that she was very proud of what she'd accomplished in one short week. And that was awesome to see.  After Sarah and I walked around a bit, Livvie finally was able to make her way up the line and to the top station of the flying trapeze ... where she flew and caught.  Click here to see it.  Her excitement was akin to the first time she rode a real, adult-sized roller coaster and came off jumping up and down screaming, "That was AWESOME!!"  That's my daredevil. 

So what did I learn?  I learned that my girls have grown up so quickly and are reaching the stage where they are independent in their decision making, and that is something I must respect.  I grew up an athlete, my husband grew up an athlete, so naturally we have the desire to push our kids to try athletic things.  But in pushing, we are also trying to remember our boundaries ... and respect theirs.  And remember that these are two little individuals that, while made up of a combination of our DNA, are still individuals ... with their own boundaries ... and fears ... and expectations. The good news is that both the girls are excited to go back to circus camp next year.  Olivia is already thinking this is something she'd really like to get involved in when she goes to college at FSU.  Sarah?  She says she'd like to do circus camp for a few years, but she really has her sights set on being an FSU Marching Chief. And that's just fine with me. After all, I was a band geek too. :-)  (And I really wish FSU did circus camp for adults...)   

Looking Back on 2015

It’s been two full months since I’ve posted, so I guess it’s time to fully look back at 2015. It was certainly a year filled with dramatic change for us. Change is always challenging, but I think we’ve had our fill for a while.

If we’re connected on Facebook, you probably have a pretty good idea why I haven’t posted in two months. The picture above sort of sums it up, taken in “recovery” about three and a half weeks post surgery. In the late night/early morning hours after my last blog post on November 24, my husband had a massive heart attack. He had gone home to Jacksonville that Monday to prep for our Thanksgiving holiday, so the girls and I were still in Tallahassee finishing up the school week. I’m incredibly grateful that he had the strength and the sense to call 911, as I understand most men in his situation don’t. He was sitting on the front porch when rescue arrived from Blount Island just a few moments later, and he told the EMT he thought he was having a heart attack. The EMT checked him out and said, “Sure enough, you’re having a heart attack. Better lock up your house.” He called me at 2:30am to tell me. His cardiologist called me at 4:30am to tell me it wouldn’t be a simple stent procedure. I woke up the girls at 5:30am and headed home. The following Monday he had a quintuple bypass.

Those next three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are truly a blur. I was back and forth between Benny in the hospital and, finally, recovering at home in Jacksonville and our girls in school in Tallahassee. We are very thankful to have had so much help on both ends of I-10, friends taking care of my girls in Tallahassee while I was in Jacksonville with Benny and friends and family taking care of Benny in Jacksonville while I was in Tallahassee with the girls. I put nearly 3,500 miles on my car in three weeks. It was an incredibly difficult time, but we made it through. We’re back in Tallahassee now, Benny doing his cardiac rehab program, and praying for a full recovery. One day, I’ll summon up the courage to find a YouTube video of an open heart quintuple bypass.

Somewhere in all that, the holidays came and went. We spent Thanksgiving and another 10 days in the hospital, and Christmas was quiet and restful, the girls and I taking the dogs on their annual Christmas morning trek to Black Rock Beach without Benny since he was far from ready for a trek like that. Somewhere in there, I also apparently had my 50th birthday, though we’ve decided that milestone really didn’t happen yet since we had to cancel the surprise party Benny had planned for me. My birthday was two days after his surgery. Thank you to Jim and Doug for dragging me to Barnaby’s for pizza and a beer when I got back to Tallahassee to be with the girls that week. And thank you to Sandi, who kept the girls that week and picked up a cake and balloons.

That’s how 2015 ended for us, but the whole year was a year of transition. With the start of my new job – a move I still haven’t quite comes to grips with a year later; adjusting to the professional challenges that job brought forth – not only learning a new role, but also missing so many pieces of my old role, most especially the students; and lastly, uprooting my family from our home in Jacksonville to a house in Tallahassee in August – and adjusting to a whole new way of life.

They say everything happens for a reason, so I keep reminding myself of the reasons I accepted my new role: our kids are in a much better school district, and I’ll have a much better retirement. The first is very important to me; I guess the second should be. It’s been a little over a year now, and I can’t honestly say that we’ve settled in. I’m not sure we ever will. Home will always be over there. Some may think that’s a draw that’s a little too enticing, perhaps keeping us from fully immersing ourselves in our lives in Tallahassee, but we’re standing pretty firm on that one. We seem to be in a neighborhood of temporariness. We’ve met others on our little street that are in a similar situation to ours: renting while they try out a new role for a year or three or five or six, and it seems half the homes on our street are rentals.

Someone very dear to me shared a confession recently that she’d lost herself over the past year; she didn’t recognize the girl she saw in the mirror. I love that girl dearly, and my heart hurt for her when I read it. But I know how she feels. I’ve felt that way often over this past year. Maybe not for the same reasons, as she and I are facing very different challenges, though we’ve both started new jobs. Over the past year, I feel like I’ve lost a lot of myself … walking away from a role I had served in for the past 20 years.  Though things were certainly about to be in an upheaval at my former employer, I still until the very day I walked out the door, tears in my eyes, loved my job. And that walking away extended not only to the career change, but also to my place in the world, that little 6’ x 12’ art studio downstairs, and very much to the ground under my feet and that river in the backyard. This girl, this apparently now 50-year-old girl, is still struggling with this new role she’s in and this new life she is living.

Walking through this house in Tallahassee still feels strange, yet here are Pete and Zoey sitting next to me as I write this. Driving to work down Thomasville Road instead of Heckscher Drive and I-95 South still feels strange, yet I still swing through McDonald’s for my morning tea fix. Not being on a campus filled with students feels more than strange – it’s down right lonely – and yet there’s a campus of nearly 40,000 students just a half mile from my office. Our girls seem to have settled into their new school well; that part’s a blessing. My husband is doing a darn good job of keeping a positive attitude in the middle of all this transition, even with a shiny new eight inch scar going down his chest, though he’s certainly ready to be fully recovered and fully healthy. Me? I guess I have good days and not so good days, like we all do. I’ve had a year in the job, but we as a family, have only had five months here.

My hope for 2016? I guess my biggest hope is that all this stops feeling so strange. And we all feel more settled. And we all make the time to do the things we love again. I’ll start with trying to check back in here with you more often, and hopefully have some art and photography and jewelry to share, because that will mean I've recaptured at least part of me, that part that's always making something. My baby sister turns 41 tomorrow, and that's got me feeling so much more like a grown up. As such, we often have to make decisions that, while they may not be our heart's desire, we hope and pray are in the best interest of our families in the long run.  That's where I find myself here now nearly one month into 2016.  Hoping and praying I'm doing what's best for my family.  And hoping that 2016 brings you all that you hope for, too.

Best Shot Monday: 17045 NW 11th Avenue

(So it's Tuesday...who's counting? And this isn't exactly a stunning photo, but it does have a story behind it.)   I was born in Miami. The best that I can remember, we lived in four different places in Miami before moving to St. Petersburg when I was in the middle of 5th grade. I can't really say why, but 17045 NW 11th Avenue is the address that's always stuck with me. I even remember my phone number from that house.

I was in Miami this past weekend for a Student Government conference, and curiosity got the best of me.  I wanted to see it. It's so funny how you remember things from your childhood being so much bigger than they actually were. The nearby landmarks that stuck out so clearly in my mind were an arch, kind of like the St. Louis Arch, and in my mind it was that big, and a Levitz furniture store. The arch was still there, right at the intersection of 826 and 12th Avenue, but it was a quarter of the size I remember it being. Levitz was no longer there, but the industrial area there did have a furniture, flooring and building supply vibe to it. When I was a child, the area just to the north of 826 at the south end of our street was a big open field. It was full now, with a hotel and more industrial buildings.

But as soon as I made the turn onto the street, there it was, the second house on the right, right where I remembered it. And there was the Hunter's house across the street, and Timmy Taylor's house next door. I remember there being a big tree to the left of the sidewalk in our yard, but it was not there. Not sure if it ever was.  The house was so much smaller than I remembered it being. The neighborhood itself has held up pretty well as far as old neighborhoods like this go. Throughout the neighborhood, there were bars on all the windows and doors, but at least more than half of the yards and homes looked fairly well kept. The elementary school was still at the end of the street, though I wasn't allowed to go to that school. This was in the early to mid 1970's, so busing was in full force in Miami. Kids in my neighborhood were bused to a school on the other side of town, so my parents put me in a private school nearby, Northwest Christian Academy.  Looking back now, I have no idea how they afforded private school, but I'm glad they did. I have good memories from that school (including being sent home because I wore pants instead of a dress one day ... a rebel from an early age), and I still have my 4th grade NWCA yearbook.

I've often heard it said that most parents dream of their kids doing better than they did. My mom's been gone nearly 16 years now, but she was doing pretty well financially in the years before she died, though obviously, she's a prime case of money not buying happiness. My dad's doing fine and still living in South Florida. My sister Kim and I had the opportunity to go to college right out of high school, something my dad didn't have the opportunity to do. My mother went straight into nursing school, Nana and Granddaddy sending her up to Miami from their home in Key West, where my mom was born and raised. Kim and I are now both fiercely independent.  While we had our parents help for our undergraduate degrees, I put myself through grad school and Kim put herself through a post-bachelor's advanced certification. We both now have happy, healthy families.

Our life experiences certainly make us who we are, whether we choose to take the best lessons from them or not. I took both good and not-so-good memories from 17045 NW 11th Avenue and hope I've made the best of them. As I've said many times before, I believe happiness is a choice and I try to make that positive choice every day.  Moving around so much when I was younger, I've wanted to keep a strong sense of home as I've become an adult and started raising my own family, which is why our move to Tallahassee was so hard on me and probably part of the reason I'm not sure I'll ever be fully grounded here.  "Home" will always be back in Jacksonville, in the home we built and raised our girls in and will go back to for retirement.  But I'm trying. I'm getting involved here. I've found an animal rescue to work with and I've accepted a position as a chapter advisor for my college sorority.  We're slowly growing some roots here on Wild Rose Way, though the deepest roots will always be thriving on Heckscher Drive.

*I first wrote of 17045 NW 11th Avenue in this post if you want to read it. Be forewarned, it's an emotionally revealing post, but a story I needed to share.