And My Heart Was Happy

I was spontaneous this weekend.  I just left the Big City on Friday and headed South.  And my heart was happy.

Wednesday was a day of living hell for me.  I apologize for the people who have heard this- mainly my sister, my mom, and my boyfriend...and the Big City people who lived it with me.  Now is your chance to skip this part, and read the happy stuff.  For the people who haven't heard this story- you might should skip to the happy part, especially if you are squeamish.  So here's your chance before this story unfurls...

AWFUL PART: 
I knew Wednesday was going to be a day.  I was told not to eat that morning so I could have balance testing performed on me.  Another student would be performing the tests, so she could practice giving the instructions and learning the battery...I would be experiencing it to know what it was like when I administer it.  I was already pretty anxious about it.  For VNG testing, you are in a dark cylindrical booth, wearing a "halo" with video cameras recording each eye, head strapped in, and seat-belted it.  For a person who is claustrophobic, this is not an ideal situation...so I was FREAKING out.  I've seen a ton of people have the testing done, so I knew I had to suck it up.  We started out and I was doing fine, everything looked good.  Then we got a call that we had to go to the hospital for a bed-side.  I was unhooked and ready to walk over/very curious what was going on because I'd never been called over to do one.

I walk over to the main building with my supervisor.  We go get the audiometer.  We start walking and I look on the order and see that the patient's room was listed within the "ICU" wing on the floor.  We were told before we walked over there we would know WHY we had been called when we got there.  When I saw "ICU" I knew the patient was going to be without an ear or something.  I was ill.  Panicking.  We walked through the wing.  I was on tunnel vision because I knew if I looked in any other room I would have a complete meltdown.  We got to the room and the patient was in CT, so we were going to have to come back.

To say I was relieved would be an understatement.  I had been talking to God the entire time.  Praying that I would remain standing, that my face wouldn't change when I saw this person, that I would be able to look them in the eye, that they would live, that I would live...I mean so many things.  Seeing the families outside of ICU was heart-wrenching for me.

We got the call to come back.  I prayed the whole way over.  I'll never forget what I saw.  Let's just say there was a lot of blood (like more than I had ever seen) and multiple stab wounds to the head.  The foreign object still remained in the ear.  We didn't even have time to perform our testing because the surgeons were there to take the patient to surgery.

That shook me up.  I have three hospital experiences that have really shaped the way I feel about going into ICU situations.  Now I have four.  I was frazzled after that.  Managed to eat lunch.  Then it was back to MY testing.  I got all strapped in again.  The part where the chair moves began and I LOST it.  Like exorcism style.

I was hysterical.  So dizzy.  In the dark.  Strapped in.  I wanted OUT.  I was crying, which was mortifying to me in front of two supervisors.  I was kind of "critiqued" following all of these experiences and it was just a little too much for me that day.

I sobbed the whole way to class that night on the phone with my mom.  I walked into the school building and saw the Roomie and a friend and they asked how my days was and I went all hysterical crying girl on them.  Both thought I had been diagnosed with something they found on my testing.  Yeah, no.  I held it together during class.  I was sad the rest of the week.  I took it out on a lot of people, mostly Tuck, and I really shouldn't have.  I apologize.  It was horrific but I'm moving on from it.


HAPPY PART:
One good thing did happen that day!  We found out Uncle Tuck will have a NEPHEW this February.  That truly was the only thing that made me smile that day.  I've said it was a boy the entire time.  I listened to this song like a million times today.  Such a sweet uncle/nephew song.  Congrats, Uncle Tuck.  You will be a great one!

Friday comes.  I had a half day of clinic, as usual.  I called Tuck at lunch and he told me to get in the car and come home.  It took some encouraging by friends and my daddy but I did it.  I threw clothes in a bag and got on the road.

Friday we went to a birthday party.  For the first time in a very long time, everyone from Tuck's "core group" was represented with their spouse, fiance, or significant other.  My heart was happy.  The girls had girl time and the boys had boy time.  It was perfect.

Saturday we went to the game.  How could you not be happy in Oxford?  We lost.  What's new?  I got fried.  Again, what's new? (As a side note, when someone clearly knows they are burned, what's the point in ridiculing them/ poking at their burn?  None.  Shove that tid-bit in a pocket for a later date)  I saw Lula,  Swamps/Dorroh,  Jeansy,  MAP, and Alyssa.  Ran into my cousins very unexpectedly.  Our visit was too short but I needed it.  My heart was happy.

We ate at Como Steakhouse that night.  Such good conversation with such precious friends.  We were ready to crash by the time we got home.  And we did.  We slept in today (heathens, I know) and ate lunch with Tuck's family.

 Sweet ghost sisters

 Swamps insisted on a "pic for Boosin"

 Tuck's photography skills are top notch.

JBaby, Jenty, me, Tuck, Wolf, Julie, and Twin

I might have a ton of homework facing me tomorrow but this weekend was totally worth it.  In all honesty, I drove over 400 miles for a hug.  And I got lots of them this weekend.  Sleeping in the woods (at Tuck's house) was the best thing that could have happened to me.  Zero noise, just peace and quiet...I always realize how noisy it is here when I leave.  The devil didn't even get to slip that image back in on me one time while I was gone.

I'm so thankful for all of my friends.  I'm rested and rejuvenated.  Starting with a brighter outlook on this week ahead.

My heart IS happy.

Stream of Conciousness

5,532.  Miles.  Well, that's if you count our initial meeting- if you don't, then subtract around 210 miles- that's the trip from Memphis to Jackson...where we met.  5,532?  That's the combined mileage we've traveled to see each other since we met in January.  We live in a combined 3 states- his hometown, my hometown, and the Big City- so that's a lot of area to cover.  5,532 miles in a short eight months.  Why we calculated it?  Simple.  I just wanted to know.  I would travel many a mile for that man.

This song is true for our relationship.  Tuck picked it early on as one of "our songs".  Getting through all the stuff.  Finding that right one.

Hope y'all enjoyed that cheese.  I'm feeling much better from my random illness, thanks for asking.  Tuck came this weekend- first one since July.  We had a weekend of quality time.  No better way to speak love to me than spending time with me and just giving me your undivided attention.  I LOVE it. I cooked Friday and then we hit up a local bar for a casual night of drinks with friends.  Saturday we watched the game enjoyed some excellent bar food at my favorite sports bar down the street.  We went to Cabela's after that because I enjoy being trapped in a building with stuffed deer, ammunition, and 9 million duck call going off I'm the best girlfriend in the world.  Can I just tell you what a sensory overload that place was- seriously Charming Charlie's has NOTHING on this place...and I've made multiple attempts at going in that store.  Caught the tail end of the Balloon Race that afternoon.  I took Tuck to eat Vietnamese that night.  He was a good sport.  Thank God they had "chicken with fried rice".  Later we went out for houka and drinks.  He was not impressed but wanted to do it.  I'm just glad we are marking things off our "to-do" list.  Sadly we didn't get a picture together this weekend...also really sad because my hair is actually RED right now...I've said it before but really this time, it's red and a few people haven't recognized me.  Everyone seems to love it.

 Roomie drew this in class.  What an artist.

 We will see if he reads this.  Get it with that fur. 

 Words to live by for this Rebel football season.

 Yummy.

Balloon Race

School is going great so far.  I say that because we haven't had a test yet so I've only been reading, going to class, and taking notes.  Clinic has been different because we are just fed to the wolves this year.  With more full time days.  We are expected to be on our "A-game" at all times and really practicing as "pseudo clinicians".  I'm at a vestibular clinic this semester- so I get to put my patients through what I call the "torture chamber"...haven't had it done on me yet but it looks horrifying.  I'm also doing hearing aids, cochlear implants, and the regular diagnostic stuff.  I'm BUSY while I'm there, which makes the time go by fast...but I feel crazy at the end of the day...like I have a mushy brain.  I've learned SO MUCH and I'm so thankful that I'll have 7-8  different rotations before I leave for my fellow year...clinic experience is invaluable.

So that kind of catches you up with me.

Remembering- Get out of your boxes

There are a lot of things that I want to remember today.  One being the obvious, 10 years since the worst attack on our nation.  September 11.  Ten years ago, it just seemed like another day.  Ten years later, our lives are forever changed...and it's one we will never forget.

First things first.  For my own memory, I'd like to remember a recent illness that I'm battling.  With the pain associated it will be hard to forget, but nonetheless I'm going to document it.  Something you should know about me is that I have the unique ability to acquire illnesses and/or diseases that are reserved exclusively for eighty year old people.  No offense, Mimi, but it's true.  So Thursday, I realize that my lower jaw is very tender.  I thought I had slept wrong or something but after eating that area started swelling.  I called the Roomie and told her I had a tumor and to please come home so I would stop over-reacting.  I called several other people before I called the doctor...who couldn't see me that day...but told me it was a swollen lymph node.  Going back to my previous statement, that I can contract anything under the sun, I knew that this was not a swollen lymph node and something weird was going on.  I pushed through.  Advil wasn't touching the pain.  I went to sleep and was wide awake at 2 AM.  Throbbing pain...like out of control...could not get comfortable...took some Advil and waited to call the doctor.  Oh and at 2?  My.face.was.huge.  So the doctor squeezed me in.  She said it was an infected salivary gland.  Seriously, what the hell?  So I got on some pain meds and antibiotics and went to clinic.  Each time I ate my face got bigger.  I looked awesome and wanted to cut it out of my face.
I can't believe I'm doing this, but here...here it is.

Don't let that fool you.  No, that's not one of my 9 chins (inherited from father)...that's the swelling from this thing Friday night.  It was actually smaller there than earlier.  It's nearly invisible today.


So where were you?  It's one of those things I think about a lot of the time.  It really was one of those growing experiences.  I was sitting in first period in Algebra 1 in eighth grade.  I had a crazy, kind of larger than life teacher.  I remember he left the room, and then came running back in saying "You have to get out of your boxes".  He was very agitated and just kept moving all around.  We had no idea what he was talking about until he brought in a TV.  Katie Couric was saying the World Trade Center had been bombed.  I knew they were in New York but had no clue what the World Trade Center was.  I remember just watching, not really understanding what was going on.  Ingrid P. Warren (our principal) walked by and saw what was going on and made him turn off the TV.

Mr. Brown rambled on about getting out of our boxes.  I think he knew before any of us that this wasn't an accident.  We innocently went on with our day.  A friend came in at lunch time, because she had been to the dentist, and said the towers had been hit by planes.  We still had no clue the magnitude of these events.  That afternoon we had assembly so Ingrid P. Warren could break the news to us.  I remember being so confused but immediately so worried about my Uncle Tom.

I got home.  Turned on the TV.  I was just in shock.  During first period, the second plane hadn't hit the South Tower yet.  They weren't even sure what had happened in the North Tower.  The buildings hadn't collapsed.  The Pentagon hadn't been hit.  Flight 93 hadn't been run into the ground.  Everyone was throwing around this word "terrorism".  I was home alone and freaked out.  I called my cousin Malinda at work.  Even asked for Malinda Moore (her maiden name...and no one knew who in the heck that was).  I needed to know how Uncle Tom was.  Needed to understand what was going on.

I'm so glad I had amazing teachers that year.  Teachers who encouraged me to write...and write it all down.  I have pages and pages of even days following that seem so "real" because I'm able to go back and read it.  Stuff I know I would have forgotten.

It took several years to realize what it meant to "get out of my box".  But one day I just got it.  We were so trapped in our little worlds.  The world of Collierville, Tennesse- where who was going to ask you to the dance, who was being heinous to who, what would I wear to youth group, how much white eye liner was appropriate, or how short could I wear my shorts out before my parents said something- were my biggest problems.  It's still like that today.  We are still so stuck in our "boxes"- unwilling to accept people's differences, unaware of other people suffering, consumed in our own "problems", unobservant of the world around us...the list continues.  So do it.  Look around.

Get out of your boxes.


Never forget.

Weekend of Firsts

A weekend of firsts it was.  The first weekend of: football season, Grove season, temperatures less than 100, school readings exceeding 150 pages (that I've skimmed at best...then again, maybe I haven't), blistered feet from closed toe shoes, and a third cousin's visit in the Grove.

This was also the first weekend I've seen Swamp since she took over Houston.  She might tell you "Texas is bigger than me"...but I'm not believing it...she'll be "the Rodeo Queen" by the end of the year.  I just know it.

This weekend marks my first Ole Miss football game with Tuck.  What a wonderful and strange experience all at the same time.  Just knowing we had so many similar traditions and celebrated in the same places for the past six years was pretty bizarre.  Saturday was the perfect day...aside from our three hour separation during the middle of the day (due in large part to AT&T being the best cellular provider on the planet).  Being in the Grove, meeting even more of his friends, sharing a Hotty Toddy (or two), and watching the game together was one of the most special moments we've had.  Saturday was like a looking glass into the years to come.  I just still can't get over the fact that we never knew each other while we were in school...we laughed all weekend about how we probably passed each other in the bar or stood in line by each other in the student section and never even knew it.

Sunday we took it easy.  Napped, watched movies, and looked at trucks.  Tuck also requested photo evidence of my "awkward years".  He specifically requested years from sixth-eighth grade...so that's what he got.  While I did have braces and never straightened my hair...little does he know my most awkward years were third-fifth grade.  He had a great time digging through my treasure trove of memories...AKA an empty dresser drawer full of every picture, drawing, writing assignment, letter any person has ever written me, and other c-r-a-p I've deemed worthy of treasuring for a lifetime from middle school up til now.  I haven't laughed that hard in a long time.

This weekend intensified my urge to be in two places at once.  I love the Big City and the people in it.  I love that I'm getting a world class education...one that I know I wouldn't receive anywhere else. At the same time, the biggest part of my heart is in the South.  With Tuck, my family, and friends there...it is always hard to say goodbye.  Today as I was leaving town, Tuck was behind me.  We got to the fork where he goes right to head south and I go straight on the roads heading north.  Per-usual, I lost it. 

I was kind of zoned out and crying when this song came on.  Pretty cheesy, I know.  Typically, I don't channel country lyrics into my "great life lessons" portion of my life...but maybe just this once I will.  I'm sure I will miss these times...and I know this season will be over faster than I can blink.  Needless to say, the heaving sobs started as I let the lyrics sink in.

Such a perfect weekend.  So completely blessed.  Happy beyond measure.

Peter and his Pottery

I spent the weekend in the pasture (AKA Tuck's house) and I'm still exhausted.  The women in his life spent some serious time bonding.  We went hunting.  For pottery.  A sale.  Got up at 4 AM on Saturday morning and traveled to Mound Bayou, Mississippi.  It was quite the experience.  I was there for what I called "sisterhood bonding"...I was excited about the pottery but didn't need a thing.  We arrived in the sleepy town at 6 AM.  I was instructed to jump out of the car and run to get a place in line...since no one else was around...we took our spot at the dead end of the line.  I tried to be sociable but it was EARLY.  We sat for 2 hours.  A lady came around passing out raffle tickets.  At this time my crew (a pack of women ranging from me (23) to 59) informed the lady that I traveled the furthest distance that day to be there...all the way from the Big City...not entirely true not entirely false.

Well, I won.  A vase that not even 10 minutes prior I had described...to a T...that I needed to find inside the store.  And I won it.  I should have been done.  But then, Peter...the potter...came out.  He described that you could enter the sale on the outside or the inside.  Only two ways.  The entire line...of probably more than 200 women (and four men) turned on their serious game faces.  I was too delirious.  Then, out of NO WHERE...these three ladies walked up and cut in line.  Oh no you didn't!  Well, at least that's how my Grenada ladies felt.  Two of them got straight up confrontational (hood rat) on these ladies and I about near died.  The trio would not even acknowledge our outspoken ones...but minutes before we entered they retreated to the back of the line.

Two seconds later you would have thought a gun had been shot, signaling the start to a serious race.  We were off...and by off I mean running. I had no idea what to expect but we were RUNNING through this place...ten foot long tables...everywhere...piled high with this fired mud...we were furiously grabbing pottery and hurling it into bags (some even had trashcans)...paying no attention to price.  Literally four minutes later, the pottery was cleared from the table and all the women were out on the lawn sorting and pricing what they had scavenged.

It became a barter game after that.  I'll trade you this turkey (yeah, right) for that punch bowl...this vase for those coffee mugs.  It was a game of cat and mouse.  Always watching for that prized piece...hoping that someone would give it up...and YOU would walk away as the proud owner.

I checked out quickly...after I scrutinized over the perfect coffee mugs.  I did good and will one day update with pictures.  I discovered that elephants, turkeys, and punch bowls are the most PRIZED pieces.  That Peter makes WAY too many egg platters...that or no one needs one...probably the latter.  Who makes deviled eggs that often?  I learned that I might have been dead tired but my adrenaline picked up very quickly and I LOVED the rush I got searching for my perfect pieces.

I'll be back.  And next time...watch out.  I'll be ruthless.

An image of my sweet little prize

So Peter, you done good. 

Change

With every new year of school I've had that "nervous excitement/jittery anticipation/slow down I'm not ready for this next move" kind of feeling.

In elementary school it meant less play time after school.  Less outside time.  More spelling word practice.  More times table drilling.  More learning states and capitols.  Just plain ol' school.  I had no idea that will each passing year there would be a little more responsibility.  A little more change.

I will openly admit the night before 6th grade and the night before 9th grade I cried like a baby.  I can still remember it.  I obviously put myself to bed but after some hysterical sobbing my parents came in.  Assured me that I would make it.  I'm sure 6th grade was actually terrible...because let's be honest, middle school is horrible in general.  Yeah, pretty much everything about it.  I know I enjoyed 9th grade.  It was HIGH SCHOOL.  Besides waking up the first morning...with the power out...having to go with WET HAIR and braces...otherwise, I'm sure it was a great day.  In both cases, the classes were harder, the people were different, and hair weave was ALWAYS in the hallway after lunch...I made it.  Even with a little more change.

College rolls around.  I CRIED when I found out I would be taking like 15 hours the first semester.  I had no idea what "3 hours" entailed...but just KNEW I couldn't do it.  Lord knows I would do anything to go back to 15 hours with no clinic...make that 18 hours...I'd do it.  I was so nervous about moving to Oxford.  I silently sobbed in my bed the night before class started...it felt so much like summer camp but I knew I wasn't going home.  I knew my roommate and that was pretty much it.  We had scrutinized over the room for months...we just knew it was perfect...we got there (and much to my dismay) a malaria net factory/fake flower haven blew up in my room.  I just KNEW I would come home one night after the bar and have a seizure with all the different patterns we packed in there/die from suffocation following my "canopy" falling from the sky (ceiling).  I didn't.  I pledged a sorority that year...I was petrified about rush...because I just knew I wouldn't fit in.  I made some amazing friends.  At the end of that year, I cried leaving Martin.  Knowing we would all still be friends but we would probably be better friends with people we were still getting to know.  Things changed but I made it...and I loved it.

Every year I was in school I so anticipated getting to go back.  I LOVED my summers at home.  Getting to be with my family was always what I needed.  I always left with a sort of pang in my heart.  Getting to go back to the place I loved...with the people I loved...but it meant I had to leave my family.  Every year was amazing.  But each year brought about some change.  I was eager to move in to the house, thrilled to be with my 3 roomies, sad when we "broke up", so happy to come back to the house, sad realizing I would never sleep there again, thrilled to move into the GO, happy knowing I would be the last lady to live with Edotlouise...before she permanently lived with a MAN, SAD SAD SAD when we graduated...because it meant I was leaving my friends, Oxford, and I would be MOVING NORTH.

Last summer I kind of dragged my feet for a while.  I was ready for the adventure but I was nervous.  I knew only the Roomie...via phone calls and facebook stalking.  I knew my schooling would be atrocious.  It was and it wasn't.  I realized I would never really "live" at "home" ever again.  I was big and it scared me.  The whole way there...the whole time we unpacked...I had a frog in my throat.  As my parents said goodbye I LOST it.  In my living room.  I had a complete meltdown.  Just like times before...I did fine.  I had fun.  Met great people.  Enjoyed school....you've seen it...I've lived in the Big City...I've lived to blog about it.

So now this summer.  I've had the best time.  No class...for the most part.  Got to feel what a "real" job is like.  Got to see Tuck every other weekend...that's never happened thus far.  I've been "home" for about a month.  I've soaked it up.  But I'm sad now.  I am SO READY to see my Big City friends.  I am nervous about this upcoming semester...note to self: don't listen to the older people...just figure it out on your own.  Sad I won't see Tuck every other weekend anymore.  Sad to have to cook again :).  I know I'll be missing my Mama. 

I know, I know.  I can't have my cake and eat it too.  But sometimes you want to!  Bottom line.  I've done this before.  Hello, Beth.  You've done this before...um, I'd say every year for your entire life.  So yeah, it's scary...all this change for the second year. 

But I've done it before and I can do it again.

Change.

A Birthday Post

I talked to Jeansy today.  It's her birthday until midnight...I guess that's how it usually works.  But I called her today for her birthday...since I'm "broke but not flat busted"...you won't get that unless you are her...but since I am poor a birthday shout-out will have to do this year.

We caught up on each other, relationships, families, school (life), the latest gossip, and the olden days.  She then mentioned that she is a faithful reader.  So there are STILL people out there in cyber-world that are reading this thing.  It kind of makes me laugh...but she said she can read it and hear my voice.

That's the biggest thing to me.  I write this for the memories but I do write it in the exact way I talk.  I feel like I'm telling you a story.  For me, it's like I'm having a conversation...albeit, very one sided...but I want my family and friends along for this ride...so they at least have a glimpse at what is going on.

Talking with her made me laugh.  Honestly, we haven't gotten caught up since Chad died.  We were going to eat together while we were both home for a brief stint in May.  Thankfully she understood when I had to cancel.  So today was good for lots of reasons.  I really love that we can pick up right where we left off.  Sharing funny memories and secret stories...I mean, she did have the pleasure of living with me for two years.  It was a happy day for me too.

Hope you had a great day Jeansy.  23 years old.  The baby of the group is getting old. 

 Back when we could count on Jenty.  Always able to drive.

Happy Birthday my Jeansy Poo!