Sparkly Snow :)

Last winter was one of the "worst" winters I can recall in my adult life.  So.  Much.  Snow.  So cold.  We had lots of cancelled school, which meant some seriously awesome lazy days with my girl.  We stayed in our jammies, played board games, and went sledding sometimes two or three times a day!  Those snow days are some of my most precious memories with my daughter to date.  Just last night, after tutoring, we purchased another $5.00 sled from Wal Mart.  The one we have been using is the round disc sled, but the one she asked for last night was the toboggan style, and frankly, I wanted my own sled.  :)  The best part about this latest sled purchase was that I ALSO purchased cat food and litter last night, and those mothers are HEAVY.  But not when you have a TOBOGGAN SLED TO PULL THEM TO YOUR DOOR. 

We had to take the new sled for a spin when we got home (not just with groceries, but on our SWEET hill beside our house).  It was FREEZING, but the sky was GORGEOUS.  The sun was just setting, and we were fortunate enough to be outside for the amazing spectacle of stars, full moon, the works.  Not to mention, the blanket of beautiful, white, SPARKLING snow that made our entire yard glow in the moonlight.  I "ran" (I doan't really run, so I feel the quotation marks are necessary) through the yard, pulling Molly behind me in the sled as I delighted in her giddy laughter.  I thought my lungs were getting frostbitten, but it was totally worth it. :)  (Did I mention it was cold?)  Then, she wanted to take it down the big hill at the edge of the yard--even though I was pretty certain my fingers and toes were somewhere lost in the snow after they froze and broke off of my body, I humored her.  I'm so glad I did.  I stood at the bottom of that hill, watching my joyful little girl prance around in the snow, on a mission, having so much fun with her new sled.  I saw her running back and forth to find the perfect slope to take the sled down, and as she would try to climb back up (it was really icy at this point), she would giggle as she slid right back down to the bottom.  At one point I heard her say to herself, "Alright, Molly, it's time to get real."  She climbed right up after that little motivational speech.  She's definitely got determination. :)

As I stood there watching my amazing daughter seize the few moments she had to sled in the dark, I made myself stop and savor that image.  It made me think of our snow days together last year, and how much she has grown in a year--and how much more she'll grow this coming year.  Time can be such a blessing and such a curse... 

I remember holding her as an infant and telling myself to savor each moment.  Someone told me that it was ok to just sit and stare at your baby and soak in every single part of their being before it slips away.  So, since I got permission from someone (I can't even remember who that genius was...) I did it!  It gets harder and harder to do that as she's getting older, (not hold her and stare at her--that would be creepy) but to stop and savor the moments--that is something I promised myself I would always try to do.  Savor my time.  Even in the "worst" winters, savor it.  It goes way too fast and I want to make sure I'm not missing out on the moments that could potentially pass me by... 

I love...

THIS YEAR.
The last day of 2013 I spent "celebrating" with the stomach flu.  It was seriously awful and I was so grateful that my sweet Molly was elsewhere that day/night/miserable time.  I figured that my 2014 had nowhere to go but UP, and that is what it most certainly did.  It has been full of blessings, happiness, and redemption after a lengthy time of, let's just call it, a hope drought.  :)

BEING A MOM.
When I found out I was going to have a baby (like 7 years ago) I wanted "it" to come out and be like 2.  :)  I was so scared of having a newborn, and had such little experience with taking care of infants that I was certain I would be miserable at it.  However, I was so delighted (but not really surprised) that my tiny sweet baby was the absolute most precious, wonderful, amazing "thing" I had ever held in my arms, and I couldn't get enough of her.  I have LOVED every single stage of her life and watching her grow.  I asked my mom-hero-friend Michelle once what kid age she liked the most--she said it just gets better and better.  She has no favorite, she said every age is a blessing.  Hence, she is my mom-hero. :)  She totally nailed it--I keep thinking "this age is my favorite" and then it gets better.  I am so proud of this little person my Molly is becoming.  She is smart, funny, sweet, thoughtful, considerate, a great friend, a great student, helpful, and passionate about the things that matter to her.  She loves Jesus and her family, and takes such sweet care of her pets.  She values the lessons from all of her grandparents, and has so much respect for her dad, which is so important.  She follows directions (woo-hoo!!!!!) and truly loves life.  She is my best gift.  I thank God for her constantly.

MY FAMILY.
I have the best family in the entire world.  My parents provided my sister and I the most idyllic childhood you could imagine.  A beautiful home, a woods to explore at the end of the block, a park to play in down the street, a dead end road to ride bikes on (clothing optional--that's a later story), family dinners, church every Sunday, Grammy within walking distance, piano lessons, dance class, swim team, tennis team, volleyball, family vacations, a Barbie dream house for Christmas, Purdue games, a POOL in the backyard, a dog, a cat, a Nintendo (ah yeah), no tv or phones in our rooms (I now appreciate that), parent attendance to every single recital, meet, concert, play, etc.  The list goes on forever, but it was storybook perfect.
I have so appreciated the ways my sister and I have grown closer throughout our adult lives.  We had very little in common (she loved to read stories,  I loved to act out my stories, preferably with an audience) :).  But I always tried to imitate the qualities that made her cool (like a good little sister does.)  She taught me to love great music (Bon Jovi, Chicago, New Kids on the Block to name a few) :) and her obsession with Michael Jordan preempted my own fascination with the Bulls' second best, Scottie Pippen.  She taught me how to perfectly imitate my mom's signature (Everything came easily to her--playing piano (she was better at it, but I enjoyed it more), swimming (I learned recently that I kind of stole her events...I didn't know that at the time...sorry, Ang), NOT dancing (that was my one up), and she always knew how to make things more fun and interesting (she's still got it).  She has an insatiable need to understand and know all the details, and that quality makes you feel like the most important person on the planet when she starts inquiring into your life.  And not because she's "nosy," but because she cares and wants to understand.  She empathizes, shows compassion, and problem solves.  She's kind of the yin to my yang in that sense.  I just do, usually without thinking, and then pick up the pieces later--usually by starting with a phone call to my sister. :)
For better or worse, I still measure my success by my family's acceptance.  I can't help it.  They're my awesomeness gauge, and they set the bar high by their example.

TEACHING.
I have always loved working with kids, and teaching is something that just comes naturally to me.  Maybe because I'm a total kid at heart, but I understand their language, and I seem to grasp the right way to explain things so they understand.  Usually. :)  I love to read books to kids and talk about the lessons within them (ironically, since as a kid I really didn't like books at all--much to my teaching mother's dismay!)  And, of course, my VERY favorite thing to do is ACT OUT stories with them, and teach the love of theatre.  I am so very grateful for the opportunity to get back to doing what I love the most, and for the encouragement and acceptance of my students and families, staff, and administration at my now "former" school for championing me in the process.  Lafayette Civic Theatre, here I come!

THE LORD.
I am utterly in awe of the ways God works.  He is so faithful, and in my deepest despair, I never felt abandoned.  He held me close in my deepest depression and loneliest years.  He surrounded me with loving compassion from friends and strangers in my scariest days.  He is the source of every single gift of grace, love, and joy I have been blessed to receive.  He has redeemed the guilt and shame I still deal with from divorce.  He has shown me what hope and faith are made of, and has never ever EVER failed me.

DAN CURRY.
(Earlier blog post about my thank you letter to Michelle Moody will explain more here). :)  No one has ever made me feel more special, honored, beautiful, smart, wonderful, competent, confident, and loved.  He makes every single part of my life better.  I honestly had given up thinking that this man existed--this man that loves the Lord, is both respectful and respectable, puts others before himself, is smart, funny, adorkable, and dantastic. :)  This amazing man who has captured my heart proposed to me on December 29th.  There are so many unknowns in all of this, and my first question to him was, "how long are you willing to wait on me?"  After all, we do live kind of far apart...  His response, "I would wait forever for you."  So I said yes. :)  I'm going to marry him, and I couldn't be happier. :)  So if you've been perseverant enough to read this whole thing, you now know that I am engaged.  Happiest year of my life.  I have Molly, my new job, a plethora of amazing friends and family, and now I get to expand my family by three more.  (Dan has two kids--a 14 year old son and a 12 year old daughter).  Hooray for 2014. :)  I'm looking forward to what 2015 has in store. :)

Time to Give Thanks

As I sit here in my quiet little basement apartment after the rush of the Thanksgiving holiday-- driving from here to there, relatives, birthday parties, Christmas tree lightings, airports, obscene amounts of food, etc., I can't help from reflecting on the most memorable Thanksgiving I've had to date.  I was dreading that day.  It was three years ago, and the first Thanksgiving I would be spending without my daughter.  The day before that holiday of gratitude, I filed for divorce, put the house I loved on the market, and was working on about 3 hours of sleep from casting a show the night before.  Only one of those things was normal for me at the time...

While Molly was away for the holiday, my task was to move out of the house and into my little rental house (just down the street) with no appliances, very little furniture, and no money to hire movers--though without much to move, that wasn't such a big deal:).  Not to mention, the house needed to--HAD TO--be painted.  It was a deep tan color from ceiling to floor.  It looked like a dark and dreary cave.  I felt like I had been living in a dark and dreary cave emotionally, so an optical representation of one was not something I cared to live in. 

It was a Wednesday evening, (Thanksgiving Eve, if you will) and as I began to prep my new rental to move in, I gave a shout out to friends on Facebook to come over and help move or paint.  I had SO MANY people show up that I almost had to turn people away.  There were more people than paintbrushes, and more bodies than space to paint in.  I prioritized the spaces Molly would be in most (her bedroom being our first task) so that when she got back from her dad's, she would feel right at home.  I will never forget the daze I was working in--both from the shock of so much change happening all at once, and then from the number of people that came out of the woodwork to help me.  ME.  They came to HELP ME. 

I need to also mention here that about a week and a half after these events was my 33rd birthday...the day my dad collapsed and ended up in the hospital with complications from an undiagnosed brain tumor.  Streptococcal pneumonia, life support, sepsis, surgery to remove the tumor, life support again, facial paralysis, rehab, a feeding tube, and a gazillion doctor's appointments followed that day.  He would be in and out of hospitals and rehab for the next six months of that year. 

I truly hope that no one would ever feel as alone as I did in the years preceding my divorce, but I fear that at some point, nearly all humans have been there.  It is extremely isolating to feel like you are failing every single day, and the more you talk about it, the more you hate hearing yourself talk, so you isolate yourself even more.  Blech.  Not my point here at all.  My point is that those people who showed up to HELP ME were actually starting the process of a rescue mission that recently came to fruition this past year, which is probably why I'm just now able to write about it.  I want to give a shout out to every single person by name that showed up (in some way) to rescue me, but I know that I would most certainly leave someone out... but here is a list of the ways people showed up for me in my time of need, a time I was dreading the most, that turned out to be the absolute most thankful, beautiful Thanksgiving season I have ever experienced:

- The "theatre kids" who moved all of my things, picked up a paintbrush, made me laugh through my tears, and surrounded me when they could have been doing ANYTHING else.  One very early morning in my four day painting frenzy, I walked out of the room to find a Wendy's paper sack taped with painter's tape to the wall (no paper unpacked yet) with a handwritten note on it.  The note first off "yelled" at me to go back to bed (I wasn't sleeping much), but then proceeded to express some of the most beautiful and uplifting thoughts I have ever read.  I still have that note taped to a wall next to my bed. 

- Chelsea Davis and her family who "doan"ated a plate of food to my painting extravaganza.  I would not leave the house until it was ready for Molly, which meant painting straight through Thanksgiving celebrations and dinners.  Around 3:00 p.m. I noticed that my stomach was extremely empty.  At approximately 3:01 my phone rang.  It was Chelsea.  At approximately 3:08 Chelsea was walking in my door with a plate of the most DELICIOUS food I have ever tasted.  Best.  Pumpkin.  Pie.  Ever.  But the best part was not the food--it was that Chelsea sat with me while I ate.  She offered fellowship, and that was far more filling than the food. 

- My Bible study group showed up at my door and started packing boxes when I just totally shut down...I didn't even ask...they just came.  I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything without their push, love, and encouragement.  That same group took up a collection of cash about a month later when my dad was extremely ill, and I was having trouble paying my rent...My angels that allowed themselves to be used by God to remind me that HE ALWAYS PROVIDES.

- My "besties" who checked in on me from a distance (Seattle, Texas, Indy, Chicago, Maryland)--calls, facebook messages, text messages--all of their words brought me comfort and connection that fed my soul in that time.  My college roommate, upon hearing about everything happening (divorce, move, my dad in the hospital, etc.) immediately booked a flight from Houston to spend a week with me over her Christmas break.  She truly held me together during that time.  I have the best friends ON THE PLANET.

- The numerous people and families who helped with childcare while moving/traveling to Indy to visit my dad/working two jobs/adjusting to all of the changes...the Hudspith family especially, who took Molly for FREE--took her to family events, fed her, loved on her, and made her feel like part of their family--I have no idea how to do my gratitude justice for these amazing people.

- My co-workers at COACH Kids who donated paid time off so I could visit my dad, provided childcare, and surrounded me with lots of prayer, patience, understanding, and unconditional friendship.  That job was a straight up gift from God who knew exactly where I needed to be at exactly the right time. 

- Did I mention that I was putting on a play during this time???  The families I was working with through that winter were SO PATIENT WITH ME.  They forgave my lack of organization (more so than normal, anyway!) :) and even sent food home with me a couple of times after rehearsals.  Everyone showed up to help in some way, big or small, and the show miraculously came together, going off without a hitch!

- The sweet new mom who caught me in a hospital hallway breaking down...I couldn't hold it together any more, and I just crumpled to the floor in a heap.  I had seen her earlier that evening and admired how adorable of a mother she was--her tiny little baby in a stroller--the image of her brought me hope.  As I sat in my heap, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a kind voice say, "May I pray for you?"  I couldn't speak.  I just looked up at her through blurry eyes and nodded.  I mouthed the words "thank you" but I couldn't speak for a very long time after that.  I'll never know her name, but again, I have my God to thank for sending her to me.

- The young man in a wheelchair (his name is Skylar) with the biggest, brightest blue eyes I have ever seen.  I think he had cerebral palsy, maybe?  He saw me in the hallway leaving the ICU after visiting my dad and asked me, "Do you know Jesus?"  To which I responded, "I do."  He said, "He loves you, do you know that?"  "I do.  Isn't He awesome?  Jesus is my man."  Skylar reached out to take my hand, and then kissed it.  To which I said, "Hey...are you FLIRTING with me???"  He giggled.  I felt myself smile...I hadn't done that in awhile.  Skylar brought me joy that night.  Another sprinkle of love and hope from my faithful, loving Heavenly Father who wanted to keep my perspective in check.

- Pastor Leo who ran into me one day at work.  He has a painting business on the side of his full time ministry, and we got to talking.  In all of the craziness, I had never finished painting my bedroom.  Since no one saw it, and it didn't affect Molly, I just figured when life calmed down, I would get to it.  It needed at least one more coat of paint, and the outlets covered.  Pastor Leo asked if there was any way he could bless me--he came in the next day with one other painter, and in about 45 minutes they had my room DONE.  He would accept no money, only that I give God the glory for the blessing.

So, the time to give thanks is NOW.  Every waking moment.  Every breath that God allows me to breath is precious and purposeful.  His faithfulness overwhelms me--in my darkest time of need, He shows up in so many different ways.  He fed my soul with these expressions of love and friendship that truly rescued me from my misery, fear, and shame.  God is good, ALL the time.  All the time, God is GOOD.  I am so thankful.

A Thank You Letter to Michelle Moody :)

(I've been working on this one since June...I think it's just time to post it...)

When I moved out to the Seattle area in 2001, I landed a SWEET teaching job at Medina Elementary.  I had no idea I would meet two of the best friends I have ever had right there on that 2nd grade teaching team.  Michelle Moody and Kim Woodard surrounded me with their friendship, teaching experience, helpfulness, guidance, and laughter in a place so far from my home and former life as a college student.  I was in the "real world," REALLY REALLY far away from every person, place, and thing I had ever known, and these two ANGELS were right where I needed them to be. 

Michelle has always had some kind of killer 6th sense about what kind of comedy or tragedy is happening in my life.  My phone remarkably rings QUICKLY after major events happen...engagement, positive pregnancy test, new jobs, moving, family illnesses, etc.  She hasn't missed any of the major events in my life since 22, so it was no surprise that she got ahold of me this past November when I was at one of my lowest points since divorce. 

So, it's November, my dreams are shattered, and I check my voicemail.  Michelle is ECSTATIC.  She woke up from a dead sleep with an epiphany and needed to tell me about it RIGHT THEN.  "CALL AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS."  Which I did.  Michelle proceeded to tell me that there is a guy she knows that would be PERFECT for me....

Ok.  Stop.  Right.  There.  No such thing.  I am over men.  All they do is break my spirit and my heart.  They are stinky and smelly and I'd rather have a root canal. 

But he's YOU, but in MALE FORM.  

Whoa.  That's annoying.  I don't want to date me. 

He's a Christian!  He volunteers!    He coaches his daughter's softball team!  He is on the board of the Little League and Football League!   He does the "Watch DOGS" program at his daughter's school!

He's super busy.  And really far away.  Sounds perfect! (said no one ever)

...He is really funny.

I'm listening....

His name is Dan. 

But he lives 2200 miles away.  How is this perfect again?

I'm telling you--I was completely asleep.  I never set people up.  Ever.  I think God just put your names in my head.  You should at least call him.

I do need a distraction...(I really said that.  I'm a jerk.)  Ok, so let me get this straight.  There's a single, Christian, amazing, funny dad in Seattle who you think will pick up a phone and call/text/email a single mom in INDIANA??!!  Give him my number.  I can't WAIT to see what he does with that!  Ha! 

Insert your favorite romantic song here and imagine a montage playing with images of lots of texting, phone calls, smiles, laughs, prayers, some tears here and there, some friends telling us we're nuts, some other friends indulging in our happiness, and two people absolutely CLUELESS of what was in store for them.  Fast forward to March.  I decided to fly out to Seattle and meet this guy face to face.  I was secretly hoping he would be a big jerk in person, and then I could just put it all behind me. :) That would have been soooo much easier-- but definitely not better.  Leading up to the moment that I actually laid eyes on him for the first time, a million things went through my head about what he would be like in person, what he would think of what I was like in person, and every wonderful and terrible possible scenario of how that could go down.

Here is that week in list form (out of respect for short attention spans)
- He greeted me at the door with a hug, but made me wait for like 12 seconds after I knocked...even though he knew the moment I arrived
- He told me I was beautiful--he calls me that like it's my name...I think I could get used to that :)
- He held doors for me everywhere we went
- We laughed.  A lot.
- Late one night on a whim, he humored my suggestion of, "Do you want to do something crazy?"  And we drove to West Seattle (my favorite view of the Seattle skyline is from there) where we stopped for greasy cheeseburgers on the way and took this picture.  I love this picture because when I first saw it, I was seeing myself HAPPY for the first time in a very long time...

<---So happy!  :)

 

- We stayed up really late that week--he worked during the day and it was as if we were squeezing every last millisecond out of the time we had together.  The Moodys were gracious to allow me to stay in their house and I was not a very polite houseguest coming home at wee hours of the morning.  But I was still up at 7 every day!  :)  I was so energized by my happiness that I didn't even NEED SLEEP.*

 

*This statement turned out to be false because I ended up with strep throat on my arrival back to Indiana.  Turns out sleep is GREAT for the immune system. :)



Since then, Dan has visited my home in Indiana twice, and I spent a month visiting him in Seattle this summer.  I have had the time of my life with this guy, and he has been "unburying" the happy, fun, beautiful me that I have hidden away under my guilt, shame, and bitterness.  He never fails to see the best in me, and all of those annoying little quirks that drive me CRAZY about myself--he finds them endearing and adorable.  He makes me feel special, honored, and amazing.  I don't know how else to describe our relationship, other than if I weren't me, I'd be jealous of me. :) 

So, to one of my dearest friends of all time, Michelle Moody, I say THANK YOU.  Thank you for taking the time to think of me, pray for me, and act on an impulse to introduce me to a man who expedited the painful process of getting me back to MYSELF.  Thank you for continually listening to my life stories (in my best times and worst times) and for your killer instinct of knowing the precise moment of when those times occur.  :)  Thank you for being a constant source of JOY in my life--with those amazing kids of yours, your razor sharp wit, your compassionate heart, problem-solving resourcefulness, the way you recognize beauty in the world around you, and bring out the best in the people among you.  You are a GIFT, and I absolutely treasure your friendship that has withstood time and distance, and is stronger for both. 

And, to all of the people in my life who have taken an interest in my happiness (and this blog), thank YOU.  I am so very grateful for the myriads of friends who have come along beside me in my journey and have built me up when all I could see was rock bottom.  I realize I am not the first person to experience all I have gone through, but still.  You get my drift.  I am so blessed with amazing friends and family who see the best in me, always.  It is my prayer that I am returning and/or will return the favor somehow.  I think I should finally post this now... :)

Back to School! :)

So I've been away from this blog for waaayyy too long.  I had just gotten started, and then I went on a fabulous trip (I have some stories...), and then came home to the mad rush of getting my classroom put back together for year 3 at my awesome school.  And I have been neglecting my new favorite hobby for too long.  This post is in honor of every single last teacher I have ever had, known, or just simply, that exists.

Teachers get kind of a bad rap--summers off, two weeks at Christmas, fall break, spring break, yadda yadda--but here's the thing--teachers have (pretty close to) the most challenging job on the planet.  They're right up there with ICU nurses (total respect), and MAYBE the President.  Maybe.  I have been saying this since my first three years of teaching in Washington state, during my 8 year teaching hiatus, and now in my (second) third year of teaching, I stand by my opinion.  It is ALSO the most REWARDING job, which is why all of these crazy teacher people continue to come back to school year after year.  It's kind of addicting.  It is a joy to come to work every day to a room full of adorable human beings that tell you they love you.  Even when they didn't really listen to a single word you said during your math lesson...

I can't believe my eyes are still open at the moment as I sit here typing at 10:00 p.m., but it could be the three Mountain Dews I have consumed today...  Caffeine is a necessary part of my daily routine, and if it were appropriate, I would send a love letter to PepsiCo for the happy drink they have been supplying me with since I was 16.  :)  My dentist may have other words, but I say, KUDOS TO YOU,  PEPSICO.  GOD BLESS YOU.   (For the record, at this time last night I had just woken up from sitting down "for a second" and ended up sleeping for almost 2 hours...)

A snapshot into my day today:  new school year, new routines, new students, still getting into the swing of things.  Everything takes a little longer than it will in a few weeks as we are all still learning procedures, etc.  I got a new student, so as I am warding off my "old" students (of 3 weeks) to go sit down and do what they KNOW they are supposed to do, and trying to show my new kiddo "the ropes," all of my morning plans got pushed back a smidge.  It happens.  I can accommodate.  I have ways to get it all in.  There's more talking than normal, warnings are given, students are popping up, moving around, think: "whack-a-mole."  But my new student is getting everything he needs for his new classroom, and I want him to feel welcome.  It takes another smidge longer to get the class gathered at the rug for our morning lesson.  But I am rocking this lesson--they finally are settled.  I'm setting the scene for them to be detectives in their reading--I'm running the Doan Detective Agency and I need them to be my spies in their reading today.  (Brilliant)  I am just the one in charge, and they are my "minions" (who doesn't love a "Despicable Me" reference?) and I need THEM to find ways the author is showing FRIENDSHIP (they're on the EDGE of their seats!)  At this point, I'm 10 minutes behind schedule, but everyone is listening.  I'm catching up on time...they're UNDERSTANDING THE DIRECTIONS. 

All of a sudden, FIRE DRILL. 

I'm pretty sure I hung my head.  Because a fire drill means fear of the wasp's nest that has been lurking outside the "fire" door.  A fire drill means REALLY loud noises and bright lights.  A fire drill means that all of my brilliant lesson plans just flew right out the door with the kids who are fleeing the fake fire and the wasps that I'm fairly certain have been taken care of by our amazing custodial staff.  P.S. Did I mention I have a new student in the mix? 

You realize that when we got back from the fire drill, no one remembered the aforementioned amazing lesson plan, right?  Doan Detective Agency?  What is that?  What are you talking about, Ms. Doan?  Safety first, I suppose...

Needless to say, by lunchtime, I was exhausted.  Which brings me back to my earlier homage to MOUNTAIN DEW.  Seriously.  That stuff is magical.  :)

That's My Job

"That's my job.
That's what I do. 
Everything I do is because of you, to keep you safe with me. 
That's my job, you see." 
Those are lyrics from the Conway Twitty song that I nerdfully adopted as "the official song for my dad and me."  I even made him sign a contract to seal the deal.  I think I was probably 10...So it's been our song for awhile now. :)

In honor of Father's Day (which I will be out of town for, but leaving a card that I actually bought last year and forgot to give to my dad) I wanted to use this space to speak to the awesomeness that is my dad.  :)  It is appropriate to note that my card is technically a year late, because my dad invented the now widely used term, "JST," or to those uninformed people, "Julie Standard Time."  It's a real thing, and I operate on it more than I would like to admit (really always), and giving it a clever name makes it less awful.  But it really is awful.  I'm working on it--but it's not happening fast enough, which brings me back to what it IS.  Time that I operate within, in which most of the world is running circles around.  I'm not always...punctual.  One of my all-time favorite dad quotes was born on a morning that he was supposed to drive me to school for a student council meeting.  It was middle school, and Lord knows a middle school girl's hair MUST be PREPARED for school.  :)  His M.O. was to pace the hallway downstairs and jingle his keys.  Which annoyed the bajeebers outta' me, but I'm pretty sure he was just trying to reciprocate his own feelings of having to wait on a daughter who literally curled every single strand of her hair each morning before school.  Anywho, my very patient father yelled up from the bottom of the stairs, "Julia Grace!  I could disassemble and reassemble a CAR in the time it takes you to get ready for school!!!"  When you can be funny in your frustration, seriously, you are awesome.

My dad has so many classic quotes.  "I could make a meal on that!" is one of my faves.  Picture a dinner party, with several other couples.  Table is set with all the bells and whistles.  Salad forks, dessert plates, EVERYTHING.  Apparently some sort of soup was served.  Delicious soup, I've heard.  Very filling.  My dad gleefully and appreciatively turns to the hostess of this lovely dinner party and says, "I could make a meal on that!"  To which the offended party responded, "That.  Was.  The meal."  My dad has taught me so many lessons, and we've both confirmed that inserting our foot into our mouth is something we both do quite well. :)  Thanks for that genetic inheritance, dad. :)  When your social faux pas create a storytelling legacy, you know you're awesome. 

My dad was gone a lot.  He worked really hard for not just our family, but for our community.  He owned his own business, served our church in multiple roles, and was a board member of like EVERYTHING in our town.  But he always made time to come to my swim meets, plays, games, etc.  He also made time to take my sister and me to Purdue games.  Boiler basketball and football games are some of my favorite times with my dad.  I don't know how young I was when he started that tradition, but I remember being in college and finally realizing that the REALLY LOUD WHISTLER was my dad.  I totally thought that was coming from somewhere else.  I must say, he has an impressively loud whistle.  He indulged me in my infatuation with Woody Austin, and always bought me a giant soft pretzel or peanut M&M's.  He also would take me past the ticket office to look at the pictures of his grandpa "Pop" Doan, who managed the ticket office for years at Purdue.  I loved seeing the pictures in that case.  Some of them were of family, and I got to see my dad as a teenager.  He was extremely handsome, and I have always loved thinking about what my dad and mom must have been like when they were my age (at whatever age I am when I think that.)  My dad's pride in where he came from instilled my own desire to be connected to these amazing people my dad still tears up about.  My great-grandparents and grandparents were truly wonderful people, and when I got to go to Purdue games, I felt connected to them all somehow.  Like walking in their footsteps...in the freezing cold uphill footsteps from Mackey to the parking lot, am I right???  Basketball season in Indiana is flipping COLD.  But a dad who takes his daughter to see Boilermaker Athletics, and shares stories from when he would go to games with his dad, is, let's face it, pretty awesome.

I was super weird in high school and never went to basketball or football games with anyone else.  I was too social.  I literally fluttered from one person to the next, completely delighted in my socially attention deficit behavior.  It had to have driven other people nuts...and truth be told, I never grew out of that...my apologies.  So when I would leave home, alone, to go out on a Friday night, my dad's parting words were always the same.  "Do your best, do what's right, do unto others."  I kind of had forgotten that he said that until I started working with teenagers, and realized how much I wanted to tell them what choices they needed to make.  Don't do that!  Do this instead!!!  I get it.  But my dad, so diplomatic and wise, would simply share those nine words, which sum up what to do IN LIFE quite nicely.  Awesome.

 I struggle(d) with my weight growing up, although I was super active, I was also super amazing at consuming large amounts of food.  My dad always assured me that I was beautiful, but most importantly that I was a good person, and maybe don't have seconds on dinner AND dessert. :)  He told me that I was the kind of girl that can intimidate boys (with my stellar wit and amazing personality?  or maybe he meant that taking so long to get ready every morning could intimidate boys...), and that the right boy would be the right boy.  He would appreciate the things about me that my dad saw in me, no matter what I weighed.  My Link Larkin, if you will.  ("Hairspray" reference.)   He made me feel awesome about who I was, and I kind of think that is a dad's job for his daughter.  Awesome job, Dad. :)

So when I turned 33 (my all-time favorite number) and my dad said, "It's gonna' be a lucky year," I had NO IDEA what that would entail.  About one week before my 33rd birthday, I had filed for divorce, moved out of my dream home, and was literally spinning down a drain of shame, guilt, and failure.  Turning 33 meant that everything was going to HAVE to get better--it was my lucky number!  I had been looking forward to being 33 since I was 12.  But about 33 SECONDS after my dad spoke those words, his body started shutting down.  He had developed streptococcal pneumonia (that's the really really bad kind) because for months he had not been able to swallow correctly.  We would find out over the next 48 hours that my dad had an undiagnosed brain tumor, right at his brain stem, and would need to do surgery ASAP.  That night, on my 33rd birthday, we almost lost my dad.  His organs all started shutting down (sepsis), and the doctor pretty much told it like it was.  He was either going to wake up the next morning, or he wasn't.  Holy.  Crap.  It better be a lucky year, Dad!!!!  That moment kick started a crazy journey that continues today.  As a result of the tumor extraction, my dad lost a lot of his vision (he sees double.  like always.), balance, and his face is paralyzed.  And I have so many unbelievable stories about the way God surrounded my entire family in that time--that is a future blog called "Meeting Jesus.  Live.  In Person."  But all of this to brag on the awesomeness that is my dad.  I feel like most people would probably crawl into a hole with a tv remote and a box of twinkies if they had to endure some of the things my dad has endured.  The guy couldn't eat solid food for 6 months (at least!) after his surgery.  He had a feeding tube that went directly into his stomach.  Can you even imagine what that is like for a DAY?  My dad, though, is not only courageous, but extremely perseverant and determined.  He started going to the Y.  He started going back to his bank board meetings.  He started driving again.  Right now he's on a fishing trip with his buddies.  This man is freaking Superman, and he's my DAD.  My dad is SUPERMAN, PEOPLE.  And that, my friends, is AWESOME. 

Happy Father's Day to all of you.  I know that I am extremely fortunate to be able to wish my dad a happy father's day over the phone (and I could have in person if I weren't a terrible human being who is out of town that day).  My heart goes out to my friends who have lost their fathers.  I came so eerily close to being in that boat...I kind of get it.  I know one thing for sure, I have a totally different kind of appreciation for my dad now,  then I did before my 33rd birthday.  And I can speak for all of us with awesome dads out there--make sure you tell them how awesome they are while they're here.  Ferris Bueller said it himself--"Life moves pretty fast."  It sure does.  And hopefully you can slow down long enough to tell the awesome people who are making a difference in yours. 

Crazy, Wonderful Dreams

I would say that I have the craziest, weirdest dreams on the planet, but I know I doan't because my sister has shared what goes on in her wacky noggin.  Holy.  Cow.  So, I'm pretty convinced I have the SECOND craziest dreams in the world.  However, sometimes they are crazy and WONDERFUL, and I'd like to use my little blog space to share some of this awesome nonsense. 

Once upon a time, I was married, so I had a witness to my sleep talking/singing/laughing.  Those are some of the best stories, and it makes me want to record myself sleeping sometime...but that is just creepy, so I'll have to suffice with repeating the stories I've been told and hope that one day, (fingers crossed) I'll have another "witness" to laugh in the middle of the night with. :)  These are my faves, and they have titles, because they deserve them. 

The 16 Ounces Song
I was sleeping soundly, minding my own business.  My (then) husband was out on the couch playing...wait for it...video games.  (That's a story for another time.) :)  All I remember is that he had the nerve to WAKE ME UP with hysterical laughter. 
"Why are you laughing?  I'm trying to sleep here."
"Sing it again, Jules."
"Sing wh---what's going on?  What have I done???"
"You've been singing in here for the past 2 minutes."
"Huh.  What was I singing?"
"The 16 Ounces song, of course."
"Oh.  Of course.  The...16...ounces....why are waking me up and making up stories???"
"I came in and you were proclaiming, in a BRITISH ACCENT, that you were singing the 16 ounces song.  So I asked you to sing it for me."
"Did I?"
"Yep."
Because I can't sing in a blog, you'll have to imagine how AWESOME this song truly is.  I'm hoping to record it someday. :)  I actually have musical dreams often, and wish that I could retain an OUNCE of what I sing.  Or, rather, 16 ounces would be even better.

McDonald's The Musical
The only musical dream I still CAN remember is one that I think might have to be made into a full scale musical one day.  I think I could do it.  In this particular "scene" I am a customer, standing behind the counter of the old McDonald's that I remember from my childhood.  There are 5 or 6 customers behind me, and 5 or 6 employees on the other side of the counter wearing smiley face visors and LOVING their job.  (Wait...maybe it wasn't a dream...) :)  So, I start to sing in a very climactic moment of the number, "What kind of fish....(others join in) What kind of fish....(all join in) WHAT KIND OF FISH???"  To which the employees all respond, in unison but with majestic harmony, "BE-NOY!!!!"  Dang it.  It's not the same without the music.  I wish I could sing it for you... But wait, you say, what the flip is "benoy?"  It's nothing.  Not a fish.  Which solidifies the theory that McDonald's doesn't use real stuff in their food.  My musical dream told me so.

Grammy
This one isn't a musical dream, but rather sentimental.  I grew up just a few blocks from my grandmother's house.  I CHERISH my memories spent with her.  She's the one that introduced me to theatre, so she pretty much rocks, just for that alone.  But check this out:  She came to all of my events.  Swim meets, tennis matches, dance recitals, junior miss, plays, church stuff, EVERYTHING.  I remember staying at her house A LOT.  Lots of sleepovers.  And those were AMAZING.  I remember the smell of the books she would read to me, the feel of the satin rimmed blanket on my bed, the sound of the grandfather clock that chimed on the hour, her footsteps as she shuffled down the hall, checking on me every so often.  She was THE BEST.  Seriously, she gave us EVERYTHING, and did so selflessly and joyfully.  Her Sunday dinners were OUTRAGEOUS.  She made a mean ham loaf (it's amazing, don't judge), broccoli "schmack" and a strawberry jello salad that should have been a stand alone dessert.  The woman could cook. For breakfast on our overnights, she would make an entire SPREAD for us.  She would make oatmeal with brown sugar and cream, a poached egg, bacon, toast with marmalade--or a cinnamon roll, chocolate milk AND juice.  But here's the kicker--she did that THREE SEPARATE TIMES.  "Tom" (Grammy remarried after my grandpa passed away, and Tom was basically my grandpa, but we only ever called him "Tom") Anyway--Tom would get up at the crack, so she made his food first.  Then me.  Then my sister--she could sleep until like noon.  My point being that Grammy made all of that food, did all of those dishes, took care of all of us for her ENTIRE morning.  And never complained.  Wowee.  Ok, so all of that said, the DREAM.  My beloved Grammy passed away when I was 25.  I volunteered to speak at her funeral, but I COULD NOT think of anything to talk about.  Which is NOT like me.  Speechless.  Never.  Ok, so the night before her funeral, I SAW HER.  She was in my dream.  And she reminded me of something she ALWAYS did that I had completely forgotten about.  How do our brains DO that???  In my dream, I was riding my bike out of her driveway and down her street.  And Grammy, as she always did, stood at the end of her driveway waving.  Just standing there, smiling, and waving until I was completely out of sight (I know, because I would always turn around right before I turned onto the next block, and she was STILL THERE WAVING.)  This was one of my favorite dreams, because I felt like it was her way of saying goodbye.  And all of those memories just came FLOODING back, I wrote my speech in bed that morning, and even had a theme. :)

I LOVE when my subconscious takes me on visits with those I miss dearly.  I've gotten to see Jennifer Butchko's beautiful smile several times in my dreams.  Just last night I got to see Jerry Thompson.  He looked SO happy and healthy.  He said something that cracked me up--though I can't remember it now...I do remember laughing out loud.  Grammy still shows up every now and then, and she is young and beautiful. 

My crazy, wonderful dreams...