Dear Farrah: Part 14

My sweet girl.  You are now 14 and it has been a wild, wild journey getting here from last year.  Did I say 14?  It feels more like you're 20!  

You will look back at this one and you'll be left shaking your head.  What a year!  

You were forced to grow up and face the road to 14 in a way no one was able to foresee.

To begin, by the time you finally adjusted to the idea that I had cancer, my treatments were finally over and I was in remission.  You and I got to be ourselves again and it's been awesome!  However, as soon as it seemed like life would get back to normal, Covid.  That's all I have to say to explain what your year was like.  

Remember all those times we would go to the grocery store and feel like there were just too many people and we'd joke, "We need a plague."?  Whoops!  When the world was still learning about it, you would get mad at me if I needed to sneeze or cough because of my allergies.  "Don't do that, mom!!"  

You were dismissed from school without much of a goodbye and only one of your teachers said, "It's likely this is the last time we'll be seeing each other at school this year." and that was in March.  Online learning to finish the 7th grade was silly.  No one knew what they were doing and it was essentially the longest summer vacation ever.  We ended up making it so we were extra careful and kept to ourselves before it was even mandated.  InstaCart became our way of grocery shopping and home cooked meals were more regular than usual.  You honed in your baking skills!  Yum!  Strawberry bread, blackberry scones, cupcakes, pies, cookies, and banana bread.  The gyms were closed so while this was awesome, it sucked for us, too.  (Very weird writing as if it's in past tense because all these things are still happening!)

You spent a TON of your time with your art.  Not only did you make several new pieces, but your style and skillsets became more and more sharpened.  You sold your art!  You are STILL selling your art!  You are officially a business person.  Well...almost.  You aren't paying taxes yet, but in due time sweetheart.  Your art has also been noticed and "liked" by some pretty big people, most importantly, Tyler Joseph from Twenty One Pilots.  Whaaaat?!!  He even liked a piece of your art as recently as last week and it was an incredible drawing. 

When it was announced that Twenty One Pilots was coming out with a new song, you were beyond excited and secretively, so was I.  We loved playing "Level of Concern" until we hated it.  Your love for other musicians grew and your taste expanded.  More Billie (more art of Billie, too), Harry Styles, Melanie Martinez, Clairo, and more.  You make me listen to their music and watch their videos and I roll my eyes at some and download others.  I have to say I'm still impressed with your taste.

Your clothes.  Well.  Hmmm.  I guess your style was put on a permanent hold from the first day you had online learning.  I don't think I got the memo that said your new school uniform was a hoodie with sweatpants and an occasional blanket wrapped around the ensemble as a finishing touch.  It looks cute on you because it's you.  From time to time, you've switched it up to jeans or shorts and a t-shirt and I don't recognize you.  That's always a fun surprise.  You've recently shared your love for the 90s "aesthetic".  It's a look you've decided you want and you're working your way towards getting.  If only I'd saved ALL my clothes from back then.  

Your hair!  It has changed over and over.  It has changed colors and it has changed length.  Back on your 13th birthday, you had it bleached and had some lavender and silver thrown in and it was so pretty.  Later you added more purple to it and even later added some blues.  During Covid, there was a period of time going to a salon was not an option and your only option was...me.  Your trust in me is adorable, but it is placed there falsely.  With zero formal training, I did everything you asked, although I should've asked more times "Are you surrrrrrre??"  We went a bit short.  It's been growing out, and it's getting closer to being easier to work with.  You colored it hot pink with dark roots and it was soooooo cute!  Loved it.  Then you tried a different look...dark brown on top and super blonde underneath.  It isn't your favorite and it happens to be the hardest to fix.  But the incredible part of all this experimenting with your looks is your bravery!  It baffles my mind.  "It's just hair...it'll grow back."  Even making a change from the comfy sweats to buying a dress for yourself online is brave.  That's not something you normally would wear and you decided you wanted something different and you went for it.  I'm proud of you for that!

Bravery.  That's a big one.  This year was a big year when it came to politics and social uprising that caught your attention and got you thinking.  The vote for who'd be our next president, BLM, women's rights, and LGBTQ rights to name a few.  I was proud when you decided to use your social media as a platform to speak out about what you believe in and to speak to others about your views.  This was another learning moment for all of us, however.  We worked on how to teach you about "not everything you read on the internet is true" while at the same time having to teach ourselves that we would have to listen to what you had to say if it was something you did research on and felt was important.  There were lots of arguments, but mostly because the passion you have behind what you feel is right gets louder and louder and bigger than anything else in the room.  There were discussions, there were debates, and there were speeches. I preferred the discussions.  You've taken on adults, some students from your school online, and complete strangers and taken the time to educate others to the best of your abilities (even if they didn't see things the same as you).  Yikes!  We often talked about you being so driven about what's going on in society and how you'd like to see changes and what you could do about it.  "Study politics!" Is that your next path?  Who knows?

You're watching films that are more mature.  Nooooo!  "Mom, if there's sex in it just skip over it."  Gross.  Why aren't you watching shows like Horseland and Jessie?  I miss those days.  Don't worry, James will always remind me to be more vigilant when it comes to allowing you to watch certain shows (because he knows I suck at it and I NEED that reminder).  You're still only 14.  

You have a good heart and a good soul, Farrah.  You're smart and you're funny.  You say things under your breath that crack me up.  You're beautiful.  You're silly!  We LOVE to play hide-and-seek with the dogs.  And you aren't too old for me to chase you through the house until you start to "Hollywood Scream" at the top of your lungs.  We all play cards together, Battleship, and other games.  You've offered to help me with my job so you can get some work experience and it's been fun!  We cuddle up together and if I don't give you our cheek to cheek kiss and a hug good night... have we even said good night to each other?  When you plant yourself on my lap because there aren't enough chairs on the patio, it warms my heart (unless it's 90+ degrees outside, in which case, get the hell off me and find somewhere else to sit!).  You stand face to face with me in hopes you might just have reached my height.  You're close!

Farrah, I love you so much.  I love our talks and the time we spend together.  I love that we have such a close relationship where you know you can come to me with anything.  Sometimes I come to you, too.  You light up my world and have brought such a deeper meaning in my life than I thought possible.  I'm so happy you're my daughter and I couldn't be more proud to say so.

Happy birthday, Kitten.  Mama loves you.  

Dear Farrah: Part 13 (A Little Late)

Dear Farrah:

You are officially a teenager today.  I have so many mixed emotions right now.  My heart breaks a little as you inch closer to the years that will take you down exciting paths that I won't get to walk along with you because your social circle has branched out beyond your mom.  However, I'm also terribly excited about how far you've come and how you've grown and matured impressively.

There's always so much I write about to describe what your year has been like and what wonderful and challenging things you've done, and this year is no exception.  In fact, this year has been our hardest and our best.  Kind of weird, huh.

You have held on to your love for your favorite band (Twenty One Pilots) and have made room for other artists (Billie Eilish).  I have to bow down to your taste in music - it's all pretty rad.  You and your music - Gah!  Although it's my car, you ask me every single time we get in it, "Can I connect my phone?  Can I play my music?"  And like clockwork, if I respond with a no, you say, "But your music sucks!"  Does it?  Isn't half of my music TWENTY ONE PILOTS?!!  Not to mention, all the songs you share with me that I like...I download those too.  And to keep the peace in my car, I'll play T0P (that you love) and shuffle in a little Sia (that you hate).  We went to two concerts!  Two!  And they were both Twenty One Pilots.

Your clothes are just as unique as you.  Somehow, you've managed to look fashionable and homeless at the same time, and yet you wear it well and make it work.  I've caught myself saying, "You're going to wear that?" when you're ready to head out somewhere, and then you give me 'the look' and I remember making that same face to my mother, and I try to turn it around so you know what you're wearing is fine...within reason, of course. You've always had a sense of fashion that seems quirky but ends up cool.

Your art.  My God, your talent absolutely blows my mind.  I can't help but show people your work.  Yes, I'm bragging about you; I can't help it!  It's so good that I want you to let me help you prep your portfolio now because I can see you doing anything you want with the skills you have now...at 13!!
I love that you know you want a future that includes art.  I love that you want to be an art teacher, "But at a university because I don't want to teach kids.  I don't like kids enough to do that all day and they wouldn't be very good."  Understood, Farrah.  But you talk about wanting to go to college in Canada.  Nooooooooo!  Please don't do that to me - it's too far away.  I know you're still young and you may change your mind a thousand more times, but I was excited when we decided it might not be a bad idea to look at working in animation for Disney.  I was particularly happy to see there were locations you could work in Washington.  Now, I know why when I asked my mom, "What would you do if I moved to Alaska?" she said without hesitation, "I'd move there, too."

School.  Oh boy.  I'm always excited to see your report card because you are acing everything!  You went through some crap in 6th grade where you'd been accused of cheating because of how you wrote a summary when their idea of what you'd write would be more like a synopsis.  Your teacher accused me of setting high expectations for you and that you're trying so hard to please me - that made me laugh pretty hard.  I laughed because this woman thought she knew you better than I do.  See, I know that you take your school work seriously no matter how much you hate it.  It's important to YOU to do well.  I know that you know that I don't push you in school and tell you I expect you to get perfect grades.  But most importantly...I know that you don't try to please me.  You're not even trying to please me by making your bed without me asking.  But I am pleased with how well you do in school and how much your 7th grade teachers really enjoy you and most seem to get you.

You've definitely become your own person.  You enjoy your time alone when you can spend hours sketching or drawing while listening to your music.  Your room is decked out with Twenty One Pilots "merch".  Your style is yours and I'm happy when you ask to borrow clothes you like of mine.  You are using teenage slang.  You're using technology constantly to communicate with your friends, work on your digital art, and post your art and look up your favorite things and people on Instagram.  You ask to hang out with friends, to go ice skating, to watch football and basketball games, and now you ask that James and I go on more date nights so you can just have some quiet time and hang out with the dogs.

Our dogs!  You're so great with them.  You truly love Twig and Kaia and spoil them with affection.  It's awesome to see how much they love you too.

So, the reason I've been taking forever on this blog is because this is the part that's been really tough for me to want to write, but it needs to be remembered.  How can we forget?  When I was diagnosed with cancer...I couldn't tell you.  I had to wait a couple weeks to let you know and it ate me alive.  The hardest I cried throughout my entire time dealing with being sick, was knowing I needed to tell you and it broke my heart in a million pieces to think I'd have to tell you such a shitty thing.  I didn't want to scare you even though your only experience with cancer was seeing how sick your sister-in-law got, and that my cousin had just passed away from her battle just months before my diagnosis. 
As always, we handled things with a lightheartedness and humor because I didn't want you to worry or be scared...but I can't control everything.  This put a burden on our relationship and for that honey, I'm sorry.  Your feelings about me being sick showed up as anger.  None of us knew the best approach for you in terms of understanding how to communicate your feelings, to be sure you truly understood what was happening and what was to come, or whether it was best you knew as much as you needed or if I needed to hide things.  But the things that stand out in my mind are when I wouldn't feel good and I'd say, "Honey, can you get me my 2s and 3s?"  All my medications were numbered and you knew exactly where to find them and you never sat there and made me wait for those pills.  You'd get them and you'd bring me something to drink if I needed it.  We got Kaia right when I started treatment, so you took care of her on the days James wasn't home.  You did such a great job and I was so proud of you.  You helped me pick the berries off the marion berry bush and you took care of things as we asked.  I never asked a lot of you, because I knew you were already carrying a heavy weight that you didn't want to deal with or talk about.  And even though we fought a lot during that time because I know you didn't know how to show what you were feeling...every once in a while, you'd see my face and quietly ask me, "Are you okay?" 

We are convinced we're out of the woods, but like me, I'm sure there's some fear still for you too.  I noticed that when my energy started to climb and I was able to be more like myself around the house, you became happier, sillier, and no qualms about chores James and I would ask you to take care of.  I realized, I can't get sick like that again.  But if I do, I think I'd be more prepared how to handle it with you.  I know you were scared, Farrah.  And so was I.  But the thought of you being afraid of the "what if" with me, broke me to pieces.  I fought my ass off so you won't have to see that side of life for our little family again.  And if for some crappy reason I get sick again, I will fight and fight and fight.  I'll fight for you, kiddo.  The best gift I plan to give you for your 13th is a clean bill of health...and some Twenty One Pilots merchandise.

Cancer.

On May 20th, I was diagnosed with High Grade Adenocarcinoma in the endometrium, favoring the cervix.  It was a super wordy way of telling me that I had uterine or cervical cancer.  

I had been experiencing weird symptoms (severe bleeding) since November that I chalked up to the fact that I was just getting a little older.  I had talked to a bunch of my girlfriends who were the same age and who were going through the exact same thing and it was actually quite normal (over 60% of women go through what I had been dealing with) - more details to come in a book.  That's right...I'm writing about all of this with all the gruesome details.  You're welcome.  

When I saw the doctor about what was going on, he said it was normal and I had several options to make it stop: hormone therapy, IUD, implant in my arm, or uterine ablation.  Well, the idea of having something inserted into my body grossed me out and freaked me out, so I opted to have the ablation since I was never planning on kids again.  And no more periods?  Sold!

I was scheduled for my surgery on May 30th and my pre-op appointment was May 16th.  On Thursday, the 16th, my doctor went over what I should expect and I signed a bunch of waivers.  Yeah, yeah, yeah...let's do this!!  Then he told me, just to be on the safe side, "I'd like to take a quick biopsy just in case there's any chance of any cancer, because once we do the surgery, it'll form scar tissue over the cancer making it untreatable."  

Biopsy?

The first thing I asked was where were the drugs.  I didn't get any.  The best way I can describe what having a uterine or cervical biopsy is this:  with no pain killers, no xanax, nothing...someone puts a tiny tool waaaaaay too far up inside you and that tool happens to be like a nail clipper and they just SNIP a piece of you out.  Of course, when you scream or begin to faint, the male doctor (never again) asks, "Do you want me to stop and reschedule?"  Screw you, man.  It was traumatic.  It was horrifying.

Monday, May 20th:

Me:  "Hellllo?"
Caller:  "Is this Kathryn?"
Me:  "Yes it is!"
Caller:  "Good morning, it's Dr. O'Brian.  I hope I'm not waking you."
Me:  "Not even a little.  I've been up working since 5!"
Caller:  "Okay, well, I got the results back from your biopsy."
Me:  "Awesome!"
Caller:  "And I think you need to come in."

My stomach dropped.

He told me the biopsy came back positive for cancer.

James rushed home and we went to see the doctor about the next steps.

Spokane or UW in Seattle?

UW...duh.

I was scheduled for labs, an MRI and immediately had an appointment with Dr. Urban at the University of Washington (best in her field) all in a matter of days.  My whole family came to UW with me and she told me after looking at the MRI, it appeared to be uterine cancer.  After my exam however, she said it was early stage cervical cancer.  Early stage was good!

My options:

1.  Chemo and radiation - Nah, that does not sound fun.  Pass.
2.  Radical hysterectomy - Hmm, a big scar?  I can live with that - there'll be a good story to go with it.

The idea of going with the radical hysterectomy was to remove all my reproductive organs and tissues surrounding the areas to ensure nothing got missed.  While open, they would remove the lymph nodes to the left and right side of my cervix and test them to be sure nothing had spread.  If it spread, they'd stop the surgery, zip me back up, and start the other treatment.

I had my pre-op on May 30th (the day I was supposed to have the other surgery) and my surgery was on the 3rd of June.

I went in, got poked at, drugged up, and I remember the team of surgeons telling me to think of a happy place as I dozed off knowing I'd wake up in an ugly gown in a hospital bed, ready to take some serious naps for the next couple days while I healed up.  I even brought my computer so I could get some work done.

When I woke up...my family was in the room watching me and my doctor was sitting on a chair next to me.  She told me that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes.  She removed a bunch more to run tests on to see if it had gone any further, but for now, I no longer had my fallopian tubes and I would need to mentally prepare myself because the next steps would be radiation and chemo.

I said, "You'd said originally I was early stage...what stage am I now?"

Stage 3.

I sat there nodding that I understood.

"You said the success rate is 90%.  What is it now?"

60-70%.

I nodded again and accepted the information for what it was.

Dr. Urban squeezed my hand and told me we had a plan and to take some time to absorb the information she'd given me.

Since then, I have healed from my partial hysterectomy, gone through several weeks of daily external radiation, 5 rounds of invasive internal Brachey therapy, and 10 rounds of chemo.

Today was my last day of chemo.

In three months, I'll have my PET scan that I know will show I'm free and clear of any and all cancer. I'll spend the next 5 years of my life checking in on this to make sure I'm good.

There have been tears, but mostly, there has been laughter and love.  God, so much laughter.  So much love.

I couldn't have done this without the absolute unconditional love, strength and support from James, my parents, my family, my daughter, and my friends.  I also couldn't have done it without the support of my bosses and co-workers because they knew I wanted to keep working and stay busy and "normal" and I love them all for that.

What James has done for me...has blown my mind.  I never thought I could love him more than I already did, and wow - I found myself falling more and more in love with him every day as he took every step with me along the way.  Even shuffling steps down the hallways of the hospital for exercise, holding hands and looking out the windows and planning for when I'm better.

I have already started writing details about my experience because I love to share stories.  I have a lot to share, and luckily, a lot of then are funny and light-hearted.  Some suck, but that's because c'mon...I'm talking about cancer.

But to give you an idea of some of what funny little things I experienced were...here's a short story:

Dr. Kim, who was handling the Internal Brachey Therapy (internal radiation) had to give me an examination.  This had to have been my 10th exam because everyone needed to get a look-see before treating me.  With the sheet over her head and me feeling extremely vulnerable and uncomfortable in my stirrups, staring at the ceiling, I heard her say, "Oh!  That's a really neat tattoo on your leg!  What is that?  It's so pretty!"

It wasn't until the next day that I burst out laughing at how inappropriate, yet awesomely funny it was.  I know what that poor lady sees everyday...and it's not tattoos on thighs.  I freakin' love her.

That Time I Was In a Slow Speed Chase

A couple months ago, I was thoroughly enjoying a small guilty pleasure of french fries while on my way back from dropping off Farrah at Stevens Pass for the parental exchange and lost track of how fast I was going.  First, understand that I almost never eat fast food.  Second, if I do, it's almost never McDonalds.  Third, I am very aware how bad that food is for me which is why I was eating it very quickly so no one would discover my dirty little secret that I was loving every greasy McDonalds french fry that went in my mouth.  And in my desperation to complete my high caloric treat before anyone was the wiser, the inevitable weight I was gaining began pushing down onto my right foot.
Before I knew it, the blue and red flashing lights came up behind me.  Damn it! 

The winter here has been bananas and very late.  Because of all the snow fall, the snowbanks were incredibly high and went on for miles.  The very inconvenient thing about that is it makes it virtually impossible to find a place to pull over.  And I couldn't.  So, to avoid getting into more trouble...I simply stopped.  On highway 2.  As the cop walked up, I stuck my head out the window and told him there was nowhere to pull over.  He said it was fine and asked for my driver's license.  After looking at it and seeing I was from East Wenatchee, he told me to go ahead and drive over to Smallwoods (a large fruit stand and small store) where we would discuss my speeding.

I thought it was odd that he would suggest that I turn around, pulling a u-turn across highway 2, cutting over a double yellow line...but who was I to argue his decision?  I started heading back to Smallwoods and watched in my rearview mirror as he had to pull in and out several times to conduct the same u-turn as his SUV was too big.  Anyway, off I went to get my ticket.  Shortly after the cop came up behind me, I noticed his flashing lights were going.

"What the hell?  Yeah, we've already established I'm getting pulled over."

Then he was tailgating me and getting awfully close.

"Jesus!  Knock it off asshole!!  I get it!"

Then he continued to tailgate me, I saw another set of blue and red lights, and finally I heard the  loud sirens.

"Oh my freakin' GAWD!!! Why the hell are you being so dramatic??!"

I found a spot to pull over and thought to myself, "Why didn't he suggest I pull over here?  This is much closer than Smallwoods."

As soon as the cop pulled up behind me, I rolled down my window, "Was that really necessary?  I'm right here!"

Then the policeman said, "I told you to go to Smallwoods!"
"I was - it's right up there." I responded.
"Noooooo," he said, "it's BACK THERE."

In my honest disbelief with my very real handicap when it comes to having any sense of direction, I did the only thing I could think of in my defense.  I laughed.  Hard.

I asked him, "So, because it appeared I was hightailing it out of town, is that why that guy is searching my dirty car with his flashlight?"

Police officer, "Yup."

Cool.  There was a high beam going through every corner of my vehicle.

The cop asked for my insurance and as I was pulling it out of my wallet, I remembered the insurance card that was NOT expired was currently sitting on my desk.  Shit.  I handed it over anyway.  This whole time, I had already accepted my fate and the steep ticket I was inevitably going to receive.
He asked for my registration and as soon as I opened my glove compartment...the flashlight lit up my box of 9mm bullets. 
Oh shit.  Oh shit.  Oh shit.

I watched as the two men talked to each other over the top of my car.

"Ma'am...to you have a gun on you?"

"No, I don't.  Let me guess...are you asking because of all those bulletsssssss the other cop saw?"

"Yes.  Ma'am, do you have a gun?"

This was getting embarrassing.  "Yes, but it's at home...in pieces."
"Why is it in pieces?" he asked.
"Because I took it apart and never learned how to put it back together again so I left it in pieces in the gun case, assuming that it was safer there, than on me."
He didn't ask any more questions about the gun because he probably agreed whole heartedly with me on that.
However, it did prompt his next question...
"Ma'am, have you been drinking tonight?"
I immediately responded by holding up my very melted iced latte, "Not yet!  Mostly likely when I get home, though."

At this point, he seemed at a loss.

But we weren't finished yet.

"Ma'am, I'm giving you back your registration but it isn't signed.  You can get a really big fine if these aren't signed."

My awesome response, "Oh, well, the car is owned by my parents, but I just paid it off and it was supposed to be signed over to me, but I never received the title so honestly, I don't know who owns the car at this point, nor who'd sign that registration!"

He sighed...then he said, "Ma'am your insurance card is expired..."
"Yep!  The one that SHOULD be in my wallet is on my desk.  I'll be sure to put that in there when I get home."

I was suffering from honest-diarrhea-mouth.  I did have a little bit of common sense to conveniently forget to tell him that the driver's license he was handing back to me had my old address on it because I kept forgetting to update it.

He said, "I assumed since you were from East Wenatchee, you would know where Smallwoods was."

"Well, that was your first mistake.  Anyone that knows me, knows I can get lost in my own back yard.  I probably should've warned you."

He just stood there looking a tad dumbfounded as he told me, "Look, I'm not going to give you a ticket tonight.  Just slow down and please...just get home safe."

I laughed and thanked him and wished him well.

The truth is, I know I was let off the hook because I can only imagine how pathetic and a mess I must have appeared.  He probably figured the chaotic life I must live has to be punishment enough.  I laughed all the way home.  It was probably my best pull-over experiences in my life.  I think my naive honesty is what saved my ass.

Dear Farrah: Part 12

Dear Farrah:

Today is later than normal, but you know why it has taken so long...but here I am like I am every year wishing you the happiest of birthdays.

Last week, you turned 12.  TWELVE!!!  Oh man, it really is hard to believe how fast you've grown.  Honestly, I don't know where to start!

But you have made it easy when you've said yourself, "2018 has been a really great year, mom."

So, let's being...

In the 5th grade, you came home and told me about a writing competition you wanted to attempt, knowing there was a chance you could win $100.  I decided to read more of the paperwork that was provided and found the words "Royalty" and "Apple Blossom" were in the sign up sheet and I let you know, if you won, I had a feeling there'd be more to it than writing an essay and simply winning $100 (which you were hellbent on winning).
Well, you decided to go for it, wrote your essay about telekinesis, and I ended up getting a call congratulating ME that YOU made it to the final 11 (out of 85 girls).  Then you needed to write another essay behind closed doors and without any parental supervision.  You were one of the last girls to come out and one of the only ones that wasn't smiling from ear to ear.  This made me nervous.  We got to the car and I asked how you thought you did and I was prepared for a lot of tears.
"I'm pretty sure I got it."
Huh?
You were so certain that you were going to be one of the Junior Royalty, that you had an aura of confidence I wish I had about things in my life.
But this is what I've taught you.  This is how I've raised you.  If you believe it to be so and you can envision the reality of what is to come...it is yours.  And so, a week later, I dropped you off at school and you were bummed that you wore a sweatshirt, leggings, and a messy bun because if you ended up winning, you thought you should've dressed up a bit.  And you were right and wrong...you were right because you won (in front of the entire 5th grade - an assembly put together JUST for you!!) and you were wrong, because when you were crowned with your WSU sweatshirt, messy bun, and chunky earrings...you were you.  You remained your authentic self and stayed true to you, and for that I and other women solute you.  Later, it was obvious that you were singled out for choices you made to remain yourself and it hurt your feelings a little...but more, it made you laugh a lot.  Because if you are to appear to be a young lady for others to look up to...it must be for things that make you the unique individual that you are, and conforming just has never been your thing (mine neither, so if you picked that up from me, I don't know if I should apologize or say, "you're welcome.")

You spent 2018 being one of the Junior Royalty of the Wenatchee Apple Blossom and you did so well.  And while you had your own ways of doing things, you made sure you had a good time every time.  Seeing you engage with others, laugh with the other girls, spend time and learn from the older royalty girls, and simply have fun at every event you attended (which consumed 90% of your free time in 2018)...I was beside myself with pride.  Not only did you win...you followed through and did so well, making friends along the way.

A very big decision was made over a year ago, but it became real only this last summer.  You and I were going to live with James.  It had been talked about for a long time, but the process of getting there took forever...until we found the perfect home for the three of us.  At times, our suggestions would upset you and I know you thought you weren't being heard because you were just a kid...but your happiness helped us make our decision.  James works in Bellevue and the company I work for is also in Bellevue.  The logical move was to be west of the mountains, finding a home that the three of us could be happy in.  But there was only a couple homes you would even remotely consider because the truth was, you had no desire to live anywhere besides East Wenatchee...even Wenatchee was a stretch.  While you loved the family you have on the west side, you made it clear that you loved your friends, your school, your teachers...and most importantly, your home town.  And James and I decided from there, we were going to try and find a home that would keep you in your same school district (he's never wanted to live in East Wenatchee because he is a Wenatchee guy, through and through), get us even 5 minutes closer to hwy 2 just to knock time off both our commutes, and a house that would accommodate a growing teenager who would most definitely have a social life and who'd want her own space.  We bought the PERFECT house!  And you love it and you have adapted so well.

Remember when you and I went to Disneyland?  Remember when we came back and you said, "I want our next trip to be Maui!"  I thought it was pretty ambitious of you to suggest such a place, but like I always do - I made a game out of the Law of Attraction and played with various affirmations.  And look what you got to do this October!  Usually, the vacations are just me and James, but this year was our very first family vacation!  I knew there would be a few struggles, simply because you are at that age where you forget that there are other people on the planet other than yourself (not to worry, you are not the only 11-12 year old who sees the world this way - we just decided to start teaching you that you need to look beyond yourself...but we learned with you, too).
I had so much fun with you! James had so much fun with you!  And I am 100% certain you had so much fun with us. :)  It was such a wonderful opportunity for you and James to get to know each other better and I would look out and see the two of you smiling and laughing in the ocean and talking - it warmed my heart that you were able to let your guard down even for a little bit, to allow yourself to simply enjoy the moment of being where we were and just be present...we were in Maui, for crying out loud!

When school started this school year, you had some rough patches and began for the first time ever, to say, "I don't think I like school."  This was disheartening.  I've never heard you say this...but you've never been in the advanced classes before, nor had teachers assumed you were cheating on a paper you wrote because they thought I wrote it (high five).  You've made new friends and realized recently that the home we just got is set up for you to have friends over.  One of your best friends who never sleeps over at friends' houses because it makes her uncomfortable and homesick, stayed the night with you on your birthday without any trouble!  You two discovered the room that James and I made for you to spend time in with your friends...and you loved it!  In fact, day by day, you've made it your little chill out room to draw or read.  So cool.

These last few weeks have been rough ones due to losing my cousin Jen.  You know how close our family is because as I've grown up with the Grants my whole life...when we get west, you're seeing the Grants all the time too!  You know the closeness because you see it and feel it.
When Jen was closing in on the end of her life, you saw how it affected everyone as I did...but you also saw how it affected me.  We talked and shared our concerns for the family and you'd ask a lot of questions.  Breast cancer is a rotten bitch.  But there is one night that stands out beyond so many others...
I had been told about the struggles that Jen was having, her father was having, her sister Breann was having, and all the many, many tears and breakdowns that were happening when I wasn't at the hospital.  Well, one night, I had been holding on to all that information all day all to myself and when you said good night to me, I said, "Ya know?  This whole thing sucks so bad.  Poor uncle Mike saying good bye to her, Breann falling apart when she's always so stoic, Jen having to say good bye to her kids, and seeing Dianne stay strong though it all even though you know she just wants to scream at the world for how cruel it is to take her daughter from her like this...it just sucks so freakin' bad."  I was just speaking.  I think I was sharing with you, but mostly, I was just getting the burden of the information and sadness out of my insides so I could try and breathe normal for just a damn second.  And then I saw the most beautiful thing...you.  You were ready for bed and had already said good night to me.  But when I started to cry when I couldn't keep all the information that was shared with me bottled up anymore...you quietly grabbed a blanket, sat on the floor across from me, and settled in to listen for however long I needed you.
My daughter.  This was your old soul coming through in neon lights.  You were a week away from being 12, but your kindness and wisdom was that of someone so much older.  Kindness.  It was what you displayed in a way that NO ONE your age would normally do.  This floored me and made me so damn proud.

Farrah, so much has changed for you this 11th year of your life.  You've become an incredible young woman (oh gawd, am I actually on to that description of you now??!!).  One with dreams, mad art skills (serious...what am I going to do with you to help you explore your art skills any further?!), good friends, desire to do well in school, and little by little more open to taking on responsibilities around the house and building a relationship with James.

You don't kiss me anymore and dodge it when I get too close.  This sucks for me, but I get it.  It's a challenge to get my little daughter kisses anymore...but that challenge is accepted.  But just so you know, I've noticed that you've never stopped being close and affectionate with me and I love that about you.  You don't want to be too obvious that you love me...but ya do.  Caught ya!

I know I say "I love you so much" when I've asked you to do a chore or something you don't want to do and I say it in a voice that's whiney and silly...but, I want you to know it's so very true.  I love you so much.  I can't imagine my life without you because you are so important to me and bring me so much craziness and joy.  Keep doing what you're doing honey (unless it's irritating me and I've told you to stop) and dare to be different from the norm.  It's what makes the wonderful you...you.

You are my heart.

I love you, Kitten.

Love,

Mom (aka Ma)

P.S.

Yes, Twenty Øne Pilots is pretty rad.

Why It's Important To Always Have A Clean And Well Kept Home

My house was broken into today at some point.  But wait...let's bring it down a notch.  It wasn't exactly broken into, but rather strolled through by a complete stranger which apparently is just called "trespassing".  

I was leaving my house in a hurry this morning and taking my dog with me so she wouldn't be alone and I put her outside for one last go and I remember thinking what a pain in the ass my back door was.  I am good at locking up before I leave.  

Except for today.  

I remember looking at the front door and noting that the door was locked.  Awesome.  All set to leave.

I had taken care of all my things for the day:  picked up Farrah, spent time with James, stopped off at the store to grab an easy meal for me and Farrah for when we got home.  As soon as I pulled toward the house and the garage door opened, I noticed I didn't need to open the garage door as the front door to my house was wide open.

The front door to my house was WIDE OPEN.

I called James, "Ummmmm....someone's been in my house.  I distinctly remember NOT leaving the door wide open."

I called 911 and the dispatcher lady sounded more afraid than I did.  She'd asked if I wanted to stay on the phone until the police came and I said no.  I had to get off the phone and straighten out my head.

The first thing I said to my horrified child in the back seat was, "Well, it's a good thing we don't have anything that anyone wants."

"I do!!!" was her reply.  Apparently, I'm not good at soothing an eleven year old who has an awesome collection of everything in her room.  I let her know everything was going to be okay and once the police were there, we'd know if there was truly anything to be upset about.

Then we realized there was.

Our house.  I had left in such a hurry, I hadn't made my bed and I had a pile of towels that needed to be washed on the floor and clothes that needed to be hung up on the bed.  Bills that needed to be paid were on the kitchen table from going over them earlier.  I'd run the dishes, but there were more waiting for the next round in the sink for when I got home.

Then Farrah said, "Oh my god...are they going to go into my room?!!"

"Of course they are!"

"Noooooo!"

Our conversations suddenly went from, "What if the TVs or computers were taken?" to "What if they see my bra, the mess on the floor, or dirty laundry?!!!"  Our idea of what mattered took a serious shift.  Hence, the title.

But here's what happened.  Three cops showed up, guns drawn, pounded on the outside of the house yelling, "Douglas County PD! Make yourself known!"  They repeated this three times and entered the house (we stayed in the car).  When the flashlights were on in Farrah's room, she freaked.  She freaked when they were in the office.  She sighed in relief when they were in the "hobby room" as it is the meditation and art room...so it's pretty awesome.  When they came out to tell me the house was clear, they also told me what had happened.

In my rush to get Twig ready, I checked the front door lock, but neglected to check the back door she had just come through.  I'd left my back door completely accessible.  We went around and checked the house, all the while apologizing for the mess and getting comments like, "Serious?  This is not bad.  This looks like most homes."  Whew!  I needed to save a little dignity for the obvious negligence on the safety of my home.  

The person who came in, did so by jumping my fence after a long hike through fields, walked up to my door, opened it, and simply let themselves in.  From there...nothing.  As of this moment, I can't see that anything was taken, moved, or even added!  The cops said sometimes when it's someone on drugs, they go for food.  Nope.  But I might take a double inventory of my refrigerator and pantry tomorrow.

While Farrah and I made jokes to lighten things up because our adrenaline was on overload, it was completely unnerving seeing those footprints go from my fence and stomp all the way to my door to which that person felt it was okay to simply walk in.  It was a holiday for most people...we could've been home!  Then what?  

But the joking around made us both feel better like, "They probably saw the self-help books and figured...nah, it would be cruel to take something from someone with this many books."  Or, "They hung up a painting that isn't even a quarter of the way finished (Farrah's) and they don't even have their coo-coo clock wound up - what's wrong with these people?"  And of course, "Ummm, there really isn't anything here I want or need.  I'm just going to go.  But I'll leave a clue...the open front door."

Honestly, had they not left the door open, I would never have known there was someone in my house.

There are funnier things that went through my head and were discussed with friends, but some of which I'm just too tired to mention nor do I feel I want to share tonight.  The adrenaline has died down, the headache kicked in over an hour ago, and I'm exhausted.

Farrah is sleeping with me, the porch light is on, other lights are on, and the dog is in the room with us.  But my dog has barked three times since the incident and since the cops left and each time my adrenaline spikes and I'm not sure if I need to grab a weapon.

And even though I checked every door and window 10 times before Farrah fell asleep...I checked another 10 times, since.

Farrah said it correctly, "They saw my pictures.  I feel so...violated."  Even in a moment like that, I had to praise her on her vocabulary.  Very accurate.

So, how I see it - this person (who seems to have been a female), walked up to my porch after a hike, walked into my house without a care whether anyone was home or not since I had lights left on, then she walked across my living room to go out the front as a short cut to get through the community.  She literally took a stroll through my house.

Freakin' weird.

I apologize if this is a poorly written story, but I'm tired and still baffled by it all.  And now I have to sleep with the damn porch light on that beams into my room.  Awesome.  Thanks, asshole, for choosing my house.  As if I don't have other things to do....like laundry.

Terrible Tuesday

Today happened to be "one of those days"....the kind where the planets were so out of alignment that I must've been in an entirely different solar system.  A complete disaster.

I was able to get yesterday and today off from my work in order to spend Farrah's birthday with her.  I was grateful for this because I don't miss her birthday...ever.  And when it's winter break - she is always on the west side of the mountains because I can't leave her home all day.

So, yesterday, I had a wonderful day with my daughter that was completely unforgettable.  Makeup for my 11 year old so she would learn how to wear makeup correctly without looking like a hooker at the age of 13.  Natural.  We had fun, stayed up again telling more of her baby stories, and then I had to send her to bed because I needed to get up early to head back to work.

And that's when the hell began...

I've been watching the pass reports and weather reports religiously because I know there are times it can get pretty bad.  Well, I was all dressed for work and packed, and said good bye to everyone with big hugs.  I even left early enough to get to my house first in order to get my dog situated before heading into the station.  I kept watching the pass report and it said it was rain and snow mixed; traction tires advised.  Easy enough! I was prepared.  I even looked at I-90/Snoqualmie Pass as a back up just in case like I always do...same conditions.
I got on the road, had my audiobook going, topped off with gas, picked up a coffee, and drove the 40 minute drive into Monroe.  The signs there before getting onto the main part of Hwy 2 still read "traction tires advised".
40 miles later into Skykomish where the base of the climb begins...there was a sign lit up and all I caught was the horrific word "CHAINS".  I drove until I found a place to do a U-turn and go back to make sure I read that right.
"CHAINS REQUIRED ON ALL VEHICLES EXCEPT ON ALL WHEEL DRIVE"

Guess what I don't have.  All wheel drive.  And guess what I had...chains.  Chains for one tire.  Awesome.  I let my boss know my situation and in the midst of my frustration, said screw it and headed back into Monroe (another 40 miles) to go buy chains for more than one tire.  When I got there, I pulled into a Napa Auto Parts to pick up work gloves and at the last second, an LED flashlight.  For the heck of it, I looked one more time in my trunk, and under a blanket was another set of chains.  Eureka!  They were Les Schwab so I drove to the Les Schwab to show me how to put on the chains.  I even did it twice on their model tire and chains to be certain it wouldn't be an issue.

I got to the chain-up area where there really wasn't much snow yet, but other people were stopped so I felt safe should I run into a problem and might need help.  Confident with my coat, boots, and work gloves on, along with my handy flashlight - I went to the trunk to grab the first set of chains.  I started to put them on and found that familiar rhythm from practicing, but when everything was all hooked and in its place...there was soooooo much loose chain.  W. T. F.
The chain was too big for my tires!  Awesome.  So, I went to remove it and this is when the fun started.  Let me point out that it wasn't really snowing as much as it was windy with downpour rain with some snow.  I was a mess.  I had unhooked everything and began to pull the cable when one of the many hooks decided to attach itself to the INSIDE of my front tire.  The only sized hands to fit there were mine...and they didn't fit and I didn't know where to find the hook.
Mind you, semi trucks, buses and pick ups were driving by going 60+ mph and I was one of those people in one of those shitty commercials where the mud and water got hit just right...right up my entire body and into my face.
I got into my car and inched the car forward about 6 inches, hoping this would allow me access to where I needed to reach.  Now it was worse.  The only way for my hand to get in was scrape my hand and wrist on a pointy part of the wheel.  Why is that even there?
I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to cry.
Did I mention I had to pee?
I didn't want to need to pee, I didn't want to need to pee, I didn't want to need to pee.
I only got in my car once and screamed.  I thought that was a good release.
I had been there easily an hour dealing with this one chain on one wheel, still getting splashed by fast moving vehicles.  Also...my earring fell out of my ear and the first thought that came to mind was, "This is where forensics will find my earring.  My arm will be lodged in the wheel of my car when someone loses control and either kills me or amputates my arm from my shoulder.  But my earring will still be there.  I put it in my pocket.
After my 100th internal temper-tantrum, I marched over to the semi-truck behind me and asked the man if he had any bolt cutters.  He told me he didn't, but had cable cutters then said, "I saw that you were still working on that one tire when I was finishing my 6th...let me take a look."  This made me want to cry on two different levels.  First, he was willing to help me.  Second, he had six friggin' tires done and I was killing myself over one.  The man had on the appropriate attire to get under and reach the problem.  At this point, I thanked him profusely, got in my car, and cried my eyes out.  I could hear my daughter in my own cries and I felt pathetic because I'm 40, not 11.  But god damn it, I felt like it!
So, since I failed horribly at chaining up my car, I headed back to mom and dad's in tears feeling completely defeated.  The whole time I was out there, I was scared, I was cold, I was inexperienced, and no matter how I tried to fix it or to calm myself - it just didn't work.  Besides that, no reception.  Thanks, AT&T.

I let my parents know I was on my way back to them, and unbeknownst to me...my dad was already filling up his diesel Ford with a very large amount of dirt/rocks in the back to keep it heavy and to let me drive it in the morning - none of us felt safe driving at night when it was so unpredictable.  So, I got to mom and dad's, cried some more, and got out of my soaking wet clothes.  I had the heat on super high the whole drive back to their house and I was still freezing to the bone.

This day can now come to a close and tomorrow is my reset.  Parking will be a pain in the ass this week, but - oh well.  If you see a big red Ford F-350 - get out of the way because I probably won't see you.

Dear Farrah...You're 11 Today

Well, this is the year I get to do some extra bragging.

Being 10 has been a tough go at times, but a lot of it is because you're becoming more mature so fast and very observant about things going on around you.  You have a little sassy mouth (no clue where you got that, no clue at all) and you have no problem calling me out on bs.  I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan, but when you finally calm down and tell me what is making you sassy, you and I can sit down and talk it out.  Doesn't always mean you're happy with the outcome, but you are much better at not having a complete breakdown - and I think everyone is happy about that.

You've slowly accepted changes in your life that include another person to our little family.  I'm proud of you to be able to find it in you to share me with another person.  But don't worry...you and I will always have our dance parties together and girl talks.

There are some areas that you need a little improvement, but I'm going to take a wild guess that you're not alone in this area (I could improve, too).  Putting your dirty clothes in your hamper to be cleaned and the clothes are ALL inside out.  Ugh - this kills me.  This is also why you've learned how to do your own laundry, now.  Now, you see how much it sucks to have to reset your clothes to being outside - in.  If only you could figure out how they become inside out in the first place...  In due time.

Drying your hair all the way through.  Yes, there can be eye rolling and pouting and irritability about having to have dry hair when I'm sending you off to school and it's below freezing outside.  How dare I?!  It might not seem like your style is to have dry hair, but I don't feel it's your style to get wretchedly sick, either.  Sorry, kiddo.  No coin toss on this subject.

You are officially an eleven year old who is basically a small adult.  We talk about stuff that is age appropriate...and sometimes we don't.  You want to know as much information as possible and I explain things to the best of my abilities and no longer keep things rated G, but rather PG-13.  But there's something about the fact that my filter has holes in it that helps expand your mind a bit.

You're so damn smart.  I'm pretty sure I've said that in all of your birthday blogs.  I couldn't have been more proud at your teacher-parent-student conference.  Your science teacher asked you questions very nonchalantly about the upcoming test that was three weeks out...and you answered every one correctly.  You were working on the food chain beginning with producers and ending with omnivores.  But you and a couple of your classmates challenged your teacher about where do cannibals fall in the food chain...and that began your conversation about where zombies would fall.  You spoke up at the conference and started listing where a zombie would be in several different levels of the food chain...I just sat back and listened to the two of you talk about the possibilities. Seriously...are you kidding me?  Straight A student and one that is used as an example with other students because you're also a social butterfly who enjoys your friends and making new ones.

Every day:
Farrah:  Guess what page I'm on.
Me:  350?
Farrah:  Higher
Me:  380
Farrah:  Lower
Me:  360
Farrah: Lower
Me:  355, 356, 357, 358?!!
Farrah:  Yes!

OMG.

But your excitement to tell me how far along you are in the book you're reading, what's happened to the characters, what made you want to cry in the story, who died, who survived, and you tell me everything about each character...and there are usually as many characters in the books you read as there are in Game of Thrones.  That means I can't keep up except for a handful of characters.  So, sorry if I seem lost when you tell me, but it could be because I am....and it's time for me to start reading the books, too.

You are a rockstar.  You are my rockstar.  I love you more than you could possibly know and my love for you just gets bigger every day.  I didn't know the love I had for you from the day you were born would just continue to grow more and more.


So, today, my sweet girl...I wish you everything wonderful you could possibly imagine.  I want you to experience joy.  I want you to know nothing but happiness and ease in life.  I want you to do all the things you want to do without any worry.  My wish for you on your 11th birthday is just complete contentment and peace.  We'll do it together, Kitten.

Dissecting A Christmas Song

I know I've written about this before.  In fact, it was this particular Christmas song that I wrote about and because I'm writing about it 10 years later can only mean that it bothered me enough to put the effort in for a second round of bitching about a song that many love.

"Do They Know It's Christmas Time"

Today is December 11th and this is the time when we get to hear Christmas songs.  There are a handful of ones that make me change the station on the radio faster than others.  Most are from Mariah Carey, one is from Madonna, and the worst....Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas Time".  But because I work in radio...I listen.  And because I remembered hating that song so much, I listened even closer.

Here is the original version:

Paul Young
"It's Christmas time
There's no need to be afraid   (Except of my bank account)
At Christmas time
We let in light and we banish shade"


Boy George
"And in our world of plenty
We can spread a smile of joy
How your arms around the world
At Christmas time"


George Michael
"But say a prayer
Pray for the other ones
At Christmas time it's hard"

(See here...here it get's a little confusing because one minute we're praying for the other ones and that Christmas tine is hard.  But right after that, we're having fun (see below).

Simon LeBon (Duran Duran)
"But when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window
And it's a world of dread and fear"


(I'm not trying to seem cold hearted because I'm a pretty empathetic person, but when I listen to Christmas music and I want to get in the spirit of things, "dread and fear" are not words I associate with.

Sting
"Where the only water flowing
Is the bitter sting of tears"


(Are you sure, Sting?  Are you sure that's the only water?  Have you looked at the map of Africa?)

Bono & Sting
"And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom"


(What does that sound like?  Chimes of doom.  Hmm.  Chimes. Of. Doom.  No idea - but I think I don't like that).

Bono
"Well tonight thank God it's them
Instead of you!"

(You know, Bono - I love U2 but this both shocked me but also cracked me up.  You nailed it.  Thank god it's them instead of you...well, yeah.  But don't you think this is an aggressively shitty and self serving thing to say?  I can answer that.  Yes.)

Boy George & Others
"And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time." (There is a ski resort in Drakensberg called the Tiffendel Resort.  Whoops!  It also snows in the Atlas Mountains.  * see picture below)

"The greatest gift they'll get this year is life - Ooooh". (Honestly, if you think about it - that's everyone's greatest gift...I'll take it.)
"Where nothing ever grows."   (Nothing ever grows.  How is there ANY life there on the continent?  I mean, the whole song is about Africa, not a particular country in Africa, right?  No?  Oh.)

"No rain or rivers flow"  (Central parts of Africa have accumulations of rain that can exceed that of parts of Scotland, you know, because of their rain forests. So...things grow...in RAIN FORESTS.  
No rivers flow - The Nile located in Egypt which is conveniently located in AFRICA.  The Nile is just the longest flowing river in the world.  But who's checking?  Not these writers.  I am.)

"Do they know it's Christmas time at all?"
(It's one day out of the year.  Seriously..."We Are the World" had a better impact and made more sense.  Do they care it's Christmas?  What about a few days after?  That day probably matters, too.  I don't know...just throwing it out there.



Marilyn & Glenn Gregory
Here's to you.      (Thank you.)

Paul Young
Raise a glass for everyone.  (Okay.)

Marilyn & Glenn Gregory
Here's to them           (Yes.)

Paul Young, Marilyn, & Glenn Gregory
Underneath the burning sun  (What?)

Do they know it's Christmas time at all

(Do the writers know if they're all Christians??  I'm going to take a wild guess that they don't know...because less than 50% actually are.  Still talking about the entire continent of Africa.  But just in case you were curious about just Ethiopia...43% are Christians).


Chorus:  All

Feed the world
Feed the world
Feed the world

Let them know it's Christmas time again

Feed the world
Let them know it's Christmas time again 



They're singing about a continent.  You know that Africa isn't a country, right?  Surprise!  It isn't.  The time the song was written, it was about the starvation that was going on in Ethiopia.  But who needs to know specifics?  Growing up, I assumed all of Africa was Ethiopia.  At the time, something needed to be done to help, but the song was not the answer.  Sorry, folks.
Also...the chorus finishes with "Feed the world"...well?  Ethiopia, Africa, or the world?  I'm confused.  

Again, I don't want to seem like I'm heartless or whatever, but I know I'm not the only one that has noticed the incorrectness of this song.  In fact, I was looking up the song and found that there is a newer version (where Bono doesn't make us all feel like shit for being thankful it's the people in Ethiopia starving instead of us - making it less traumatizing).  So there it is.

Merry Christmas and God Bless Us, Everyone.

"Yo Kat!"

I learned today that a good friend passed away and while I'm crushed and my heart breaks for all that loved him, I've been flooded with so many awesome memories of Mr. Michael Lawrence.

"Kat" was the name he called me, even when I introduced myself as Kathy.  Apparently, that just wasn't going to work for him.  Mind you...Michael had the thickest Brooklyn accent and all I could ever think about when he'd talk and tell stories was the movie, Goodfellas.  Michael was loud and when he wanted your attention, he got it.  With me, it was always, "YO, KAT!!" followed by whatever he felt like talking about.

People would joke that he had mob ties...I flat out asked him.  Just a tap on the nose and a wink and a smile would be the answer.  So, of course I'd always flip him shit about it and poke at him and ask him how many people he whacked.  It was always hilarious because he knew I did it because of the accent, but also because of the black leather jacket he'd wear from time to time and whatever hairstyle he had going back then.

Michael always had your back - right or wrong...but only if he cared about you.  If he thought poorly of you, you knew.  You knew because he was honest and caring and was a no-bullshit kind of a guy.
He had his quirks just like everybody else and sometimes he'd piss you off, sometimes he'd get your eyes rolling so far in the back of your head you swear you saw your own brain, but all the good he put out in the world overshadowed anything that could ever be construed as imperfect.

Michael's laugh.  Completely loud, raspy, and hearty - if that even makes sense.  AND you could somehow hear the Brooklyn accent even in his laughter!  How is that possible?  He loved to laugh.  He loved to smile.  But he really loved seeing those things in the people around him.  No matter where that man went...from WA and all the way to Fl, he made friends wherever he went.  It came easy for him.  And if you were lucky enough to be one of his friends, you always got big bear hugs.

He knew how to read people, too.  He had a sense to figure someone out, whether they were someone worth knowing...or someone to kick to the curb.  There were a couple times I got warnings about what he thought of someone's integrity, and looking back, I should've listened.

There was one time that I was going through some hard stuff and there was a person he disliked very much who was the cause of my grief and he told me he'd take care of it.  No one else was in a position to do anything for me in that moment except for him and he promised to make what was hurting me, stop.  I cried when he said this because I knew he meant it and I knew he'd help me because I knew how much my friendship and my happiness meant to him - and him seeing me unhappy was unacceptable.  Of course, I said no - but knowing that he was again, no-bullshit, he'd take care of bringing my happiness back was overwhelming.

Michael was a good influence and a bad influence.  He was real.  We'd have chats from time to time about life, about his love life, about any upcoming surgeries he was not excited about, and about a whole lot of nothing.  He was a fun person.  He was a good person.  He was a brave person.  Who packs up all their things and moves clear across the country to try a new place, make new friends, and STILL maintain the old ones?  He did that.  I was sad when he moved because it felt like I was losing a part of my family.  But when I learned how happy he was out there, I was happy for him too.

So, I guess I had to write this as a means to deal with this right this second, knowing it will hit me again a little down the road and it will hurt all over again.  But I needed to get it out.  I will miss him. I will miss him terribly.  And the dumbest thing is I'll miss being called Kat...because he is the only person who has ever called me that and it stuck.  It was our thing.

Yo, Michael...you will forever be loved and you will be missed.  Never ever forgotten because there's just too much to remember, my friend.  Not good bye...good journey.

An Early Traumatizing Experience

I remember being in the first grade and seeing my first violent death scene in real life and I wanted to share it here.  

I would've been about 6 or 7 and was waiting at the bus stop when I noticed a crow in the street just hopping around.  I could tell right away that there was something wrong with him as he was struggling terribly and I assumed he must've had a broken wing and even a possible broken leg.  The thing that warmed my heart was seeing a group of his buddies screaming at him to hurry and get out of the street.  I could tell they wanted him back to safety.  They cawed and cawed loudly, hopping around crazily, encouraging their dear friend that he needed to get his ass out of the street and they knew he could do it.  "C'mon, buddy!!!"

And then it happened...

A truck came storming down the street at a horribly fast 25mph, and the cawing got louder, the hopping got crazier, and the bird in the street knew he could make it if he could just get..that...last...bit...of...strength...

BAM!!!

Feathers everywhere.

Crunch.  Crunch.

One car after another rolled over the bird and it was suddenly quiet.

His friends sadly came to his side and to say good bye to this soldier that tried hard to make it home to his family to live on a crippled, yet good life.

One of his friends bowed his head in what I can only assume was a prayer to send his buddy up to crow heaven.

Until he started to peck at his dead body.  He started to eat his friend.  One at a time, the crows came down and pecked and swallowed up his still warm body - flew away when cars came, then flew back and proceeded to enjoy their breakfast of champions...or losers.  He lost.

I don't remember why I watched this entire tragedy, but I did.  It was horrific as well as intriguing.

Oh well, waste not - want not.

It truly was the Circle of Life.