Dream a Little Dream...

Ha! I just had to share this, because it is too bizarre. I have always been one to have weird dreams that I can remember so clearly. Last night was no exception, and I know it must mean something, but for the life of me I certainly don't know what! I dreamt that I had a pet monkey, and he stole my glasses. He chewed on the right lens and scratched it to the point that I couldn't see out of it. So, APPARENTLY the eye department at Wal-Mart had an emergency room, and they told me to pick out some new frames. LOL, they only had one pair of adult frames and they were shaped like 2 hearts. So, I picked those as if I had a choice, and I gave them to the clerk. I waited a few minutes by a huge fish tank(??random I know), and the girl brings my glasses back, and they had blue lenses. Go Figure. Heart shaped glasses with blue lenses! What a fashion statement....You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.....

Why I am a "Crazy Cat Lady."

I never thought I would say that I am a "Crazy Cat Lady," but alas that is what I have become. It is a title that I wear proudly! I had been a die hard "dog person" until my friend Jeanie said one day, "I am going to get a Pixie Bob." LOL, to that I said, "Why are you going to cut all of your hair off?" She laughed and explained that a Pixie Bob is a breed of cat. They say that the breed was created when a Bob Cat mated with a barn cat creating the wonderful hybrid that is called the Pixie Bob. I began researching them and everything that I read called them a "dog in a cat's body." I decided then that I wanted one, so my friend Jeanie got herself one and acquired one for me as well. The problem was Jeanie lives in Oklahoma, so I had to find a way to get him from there to here. I managed to find a transporter that would bring him from her door to mine, and on November 20th of 2007 my journey to "Crazy Cat Lady" began.

I had been keeping in contact with the transporter the entire time he was on the road, and at one point I thought he was going to steal my cat. LOL, he said that he drove with him the whole way in his lap, and he asked me if the lady had any more kittens. He had fallen in love with him as well, but he didn't let me down and delivered Axl right to my door. He was the cutest bundle of fur I had ever seen, and I loved him immediately. He has the best personality, and he does have many attributes that a dog has. He is very territorial, and he doesn't care for strangers. He has chased off an air conditioner repair man and the cable guy! I think he looks like a souped up house cat. He has no tail, and his back legs are slightly longer than his front ones. Granted, not everyone would think he is beautiful, but he is to me. I cannot decide whether or not I want another Pixie or a Bengal, but I will be adding to my family as soon as I can. Now all I need is a huge flowered mu mu, lots of blue eye shadow, huge glasses, and a bouffant hairdo, and my transformation into being a "crazy cat lady" will be completed.

Monday, Monday...Da da, da da da da....

Ah, well, another week has come and gone ticking away our lives one heartbeat at a time. I find that I become contemplative at times, maybe a bit too contemplative for my own good. As my life moves in a forward direction it is the past that I tend to look at. What could I have done to make something better? Why have I wasted so much time and energy on negativity? These things are not inherently BAD things to think about, but with a change in verbage and structure the words have a whole new meaning. I will make things better, and I will make a positive impact!

So, today I will go to work in the ER for the 4 hours extra that I volunteered for, and after work, I will go dance my ass off at Zumba! Life IS Good!

Zumba??!!

Well, as many of you know I have struggled with my weight for the better part of 20 years now. I have yo-yo'd up and down many times losing loads of weight only for it to pile back on bringing friends with it. Each time I lose it only to gain it back makes the journey that much harder and fraught with disappointment. The excess weight has brought it's share of medical problems Type II Diabetes, knees that are shot, and a general sense of being "unwell." Hypothyroidism as well as being a long time smoker just add fuel to the fire that has been consuming my body image and my self esteem. I have finally conquered my smoking addiction having been smoke free for 2.5 months now, and it is way past time for me to do what I can to further improve my health. It is no longer about how I look it is about my sense of well being.

With that being said, I have been looking for a motivator, and I think I have found it. Several of the nurses that I work with began going to Zumba classes. Zumba is aerobic exercise based on Latino dances. They asked me to go with them, and I said what the heck it can't hurt. So, I went to my first class this past Tuesday, and boy what a class!! It is very high energy, but also a lot of fun. The class is supposed to last an hour, and I only managed to do 20 minutes. I wasn't disappointed with that, because compared to the exercise I had been doing it was about 20 minutes longer than that. Haha. So, last night Kendra and I went again, and I paid for the whole month. Last night I made it through 28 minutes beating my previous time by a whopping 8 minutes. I'm really proud of that, and I hope to keep increasing my time little by little until I can make it through the entire class. Baby steps forward however small they may be are still steps.

I know, I know. 2 posts in one day????

I'm feeling a bit depressed, but not about myself. I am trying to wrap my mind around WHY women make the same stupid mistakes. I was prompted into writing this post by pictures left on my Facebook "Home" page by someone on my "Friends" list. This person has lost virtually EVERYTHING in her life. She lost custody of her children, because she chose drugs and a dirtbag man over them. Just when I thought she was "getting it together" she uproots again, leaving her 15yo daughter to live with her boyfriend and his family. My question is, when is she going to WAKE UP and remember what got her where she is today and LEARN from it? When is she going to make her children the #1 priority in her life? Finally, when is she going to realize that as a parent, we are supposed to want BETTER for our children. End of Rant.

Just everyday occurences....

Everyday I am amazed at my children and how extraordinary and precious they are to me. My children are both smart, articulate, and talented. They never cease to amaze me even when they are not getting along, which is frequent, but days like today make me smile and brings tears to my eyes. Right now, they are sitting side by side on the sofa looking at videos , and my 7yo's rendition of Miley Cyrus's "The Climb" is amazing and totally brought a tear to my eye. Even though Kendra is not a fan of Miley, she is playing Miley for Zac, and he is entertaining us both. Times like this make my heart swell til the point of bursting. I love being a mom.

Dust to Dust...

When I think of my life in the grand scheme of things I cannot help but be humbled. My problems in comparison with other's are few, and I probably ruminate on them more than I should. The funny thing is God never fails to snatch me back to earth and give me a good shaking.

Fireflies of Summer, A true story written by ME!

"I don't have cancer do I?" Those were the first words out of my mother Betty's mouth as she came out from under anesthesia. The answer to that dreaded question stuck in my throat like glue. I didn't know how to respond or even if I should respond. How could I tell my mother that not only did she have cancer, it had metastasized already? My head swam and I felt as if I would be sick. Looking at the strongest woman in the world lying in that hospital bed looking as vulnerable as a baby bird was nearly more than I could handle. Apparently, I did not need to speak the words. My face had become a book of sorrow, punctuated by the silent tears rolling down my cheeks. She looked at me, shook her head, and said, "There will be none of that. We will fight this, and we will beat it."
For several months before that dreaded day, my mother had been ill. Abdominal pain and bloating had become the norm in her life. She had gone to her regular doctor, they had performed all the standard tests and had begun treating her for diverticulitis. After several months of treatment, and no improvement, she was sent to a specialist, who then sent her to another specialist and so on. During an examination, one of these specialists felt an unusual pocket of fluid and ordered a CAT scan of her abdomen. It was on this CAT scan that a large mass was seen in her abdomen and a surgeon was quickly consulted. Surgery was scheduled for the next day and the course to the longest two years of my life was set.
During her surgery I was wandering about the hall of the hospital. Having been employed there myself for several years, I could not just wait in the waiting room. I just so happened to see my mothers regular doctor in the hall, and he came over to me. I asked him if he had heard anything yet, and he promptly handed me a Polaroid picture. Not thinking anything of it really, I casually looked down at the picture and realized that it was a huge tumor. Not just ANY tumor, but the one they had just removed from my mother. It was over four pounds, and it looked as angry as I felt. I dissolved into tears, and the doctor quickly realized his error. At that point, I was not a nurse, I was a family member. He quickly gathered me into his arms and apologized profusely, but the damage was done.
So began our long journey. Just like everything else in her life my mother faced this challenge like any other. It was a speed bump to her, and she was not going to let anything slow her down for long. She began her chemotherapy with gusto. It sapped her energy physically and emotionally. She anxiously waited for her hair to fall out. Wondering when that day would come, and when it did, she called me and asked me to come over. When I got there I saw my mom sitting at her vanity with my step dad shaving her head. The site struck like a blow to the solar plexus. My breath left me, and my knees buckled, but she turned to me and said, "At least I have a pretty shaped head." I smiled at her through my tears, and she said, "This means we need to go on a wig hunt." So with that, we laid the ground work for the shopping trip of a lifetime.
The morning dawned bright and cheerfully setting the tone for the day. I met my mother along with my sister Kelly, Aunt Mary, and Aunt Myrtice at my Granny's house. We loaded into the car and went to the beauty supply store that had all of the wigs. I have never seen so much fake hair in my life. My mom quickly whipped the scarf off of her head and said, "Let's get this party started." She began going through those wigs like a whirlwind. She was trying them on left and right, and then insisted that we try them on too. I do not think I will ever forget the sight of my granny in a Dolly Parton wig. Once again, my mother had made what could have been a very sad day into one of the most cherished memories that I have.
Months went by. Chemotherapy, 2 more surgeries, and no more hope. The last CAT scan showed that the cancer had returned, and that any further efforts would be futile. My mother opted to end the chemotherapy. She apologized to all of us for giving up. We all told her that she had fought the good fight and was the bravest woman we knew. Never once did she complain, or ask "why me?" She took it day by day, and day by day I watched the cancer take her life breath by breath.
Christmas Eve 1993, I was at my mother's house. She had become so weak by this point that she was virtually bed ridden. We had acquired a hospital bed and set it up in the living room so we could all be with her, and so that she would be in the mainstream of the Holiday Festivities. We all knew that her time was short, but we wanted to make it as normal an experience for her as we could. After lunch that day, I was sitting by her bed and she said, "I don't want to live like this." I told her that I knew she didn't, and that we would miss her but would be ok. She then turned to me and said, "Geri, I know I'm dying. I want to die before the first of the year." I quickly asked her why in the world she would say something like that and she replied quickly, "I don't want to pay that damned insurance deductible again." I could not help but laugh, and she and I laughed and cried together.
New Years Eve 1993, I had been at my mother's home since Christmas Eve. She had been comatose for several days now. Nothing but an occasional moan from the pain she was in. Morphine was dripping into her veins to help alleviate some of her discomfort, and we were all sitting around feeling helpless and hopeless. My granny had gone home to see to my grandfather for a bit, and we were chatting quietly. We heard my mother stirring in the bed, and we all jumped up and went to the bedside. She turned her head and looked at us all for the first time in several days and said, "I love y'all," and with that being said, she breathed no more.
My mother was only fifty years old when she died, but she lives on in the hearts of many people. I see my mother in the fireflies of the summer. Here only for a short time, but the pleasure and happiness I derive from seeing them will last a lifetime.

What to say...what to say...

This blog was inspired by my friends Amy and Brook. They both have terrific blogs that chronicle their lives, feelings, and generally anything else that strikes their fancies. It is because of the internet that I was able to reconnect with them after MANY years, and I have enjoyed catching up with their lives through their blogs and Facebook. So, with that being said, I think that I can begin keeping a virtual diary of the going's on in the Addison household and in our lives in general. I'll try not to be too big of a bore. Most of you that are familiar with me already know that I can talk about my children and family endlessly. Thanks for reading and don't be afraid to comment.