As I listened to the hurried nurses whisper between patients, I began to wonder if this whole thing was a waste of time.  After being called back to the ‘vitals station’ the nurse weighed me, took my blood pressure, and asked about the pain. Again.

Making small talk with the nurse was easy. I watched the bejeweled ID lanyard lay neatly on top of her powder blue scrubs and wondered how powder blue ended up as the standard color for hospital wear.  It must be a very soothing color.  So is taupe.

The nurse ushered me back into my room to wait for the doctor and as she closed the door she left me with ‘hope you brought something to do or maybe you can meditate’.  I chose mediation. But not really, I just sat there and looked at the sort of wannabe Thomas Kinkade tree landscape picture hanging crooked on the wall.

And that’s how I felt, crooked and below average.  The pain started 4 years ago and after doctors visits, tests and everything coming back normal, I was told that it’s probably stress and I should just live with the pain.

What happens when you can’t seem to find a solution on your own and the experts think you’re making it up?  What happens when you experience life altering pain and there’s no relief, no sign of let up, no real answer?

The doctor entered.  He was tall and his pants were short.  When he sat down his yellow socks caught my eye with the color that God made (probably to be used only) for baby chicks.  I wanted the doctor visit to end.  Which it did shortly after that wish- after no conclusion of the cause of pain, he gave me a ‘good luck’ as I walked out the door.  Turd.

Some days you just feel like a below average crooked turd.  I know there are kids starving and the world holds so many more issues than my random side pain. I know that I have a lot of good in my life and I know God loves me but this week hurts.  And I don’t like not being able to fix things and I don’t like not being in control of how my body feels. How do you find freedom when you feel like the dry dirt under you is slipping you into a deeper ditch?  I don’t know how to get unstuck right now.  Maybe admitting I have a control problem is the first step….  🙂

There are things that we learn from the people we’re around.  There are pieces of who we are that is wiring while other pieces of us are created by who we are in company with.

My Mom and Dad (see #13)

1. Always have your hangers in your closet facing the same way.  If there’s a fire they can be easily thrown out of the window.  
2. When it’s jacket weather, wear a jacket.  If the car breaks down you need to be able to safely (warmly) walk to shelter.   (Same goes for shoes.  Always have shoes.) 
3. Don’t cry at work.  Just don’t. 
4. Tortilla chips and pretzels count as a staple in your pantry. 
5. So does Miller Lite. 
6. Only drink pop on the weekends. 
7. It counts as a vacation when visiting grandparents to work on their house in between poolside naps.  
8. Make your bed but never eat in it.  Never.  Ever.  Ever.  
9. When in doubt vacuum. 
10. Southern Living magazine recipes are always worth trying. 
11. Shopping sale racks is acceptable. Shopping full priced items is shameful. 
12. Include. Invite whoever, whenever for dinner.  
13. Live on the dorkier side of life.  You’ll have more fun.  
14. The only way you really know if someone likes what you cooked is if they ask for seconds. 
15. Keep your house in the low 60s in the winter.  Anything warmer is frivolous. 
16. Eat lots of salads but prioritize a good burger and fries at least once a week.
17. TV makes good background noise but don’t spend the day watching it. 
18. When you’re sick, it’s okay to have ice cream for dinner. 
19. Gossiping about family is an act of love. 
20. Your siblings will drive you crazy: love them anyways.  

Hope you enjoyed some of the things I learned from being in the smart girls club in my family… I’m off to vacuum now (#9). 

There are things that we learn from the people we’re around.  There are pieces of who we are that is wiring while other pieces of us are created by who we are in company with.

My Mom and Dad (see #13)

1. Always have your hangers in your closet facing the same way.  If there’s a fire they can be easily thrown out of the window.  
2. When it’s jacket weather, wear a jacket.  If the car breaks down you need to be able to safely (warmly) walk to shelter.   (Same goes for shoes.  Always have shoes.) 
3. Don’t cry at work.  Just don’t. 
4. Tortilla chips and pretzels count as a staple in your pantry. 
5. So does Miller Lite. 
6. Only drink pop on the weekends. 
7. It counts as a vacation when visiting grandparents to work on their house in between poolside naps.  
8. Make your bed but never eat in it.  Never.  Ever.  Ever.  
9. When in doubt vacuum. 
10. Southern Living magazine recipes are always worth trying. 
11. Shopping sale racks is acceptable. Shopping full priced items is shameful. 
12. Include. Invite whoever, whenever for dinner.  
13. Live on the dorkier side of life.  You’ll have more fun.  
14. The only way you really know if someone likes what you cooked is if they ask for seconds. 
15. Keep your house in the low 60s in the winter.  Anything warmer is frivolous. 
16. Eat lots of salads but prioritize a good burger and fries at least once a week.
17. TV makes good background noise but don’t spend the day watching it. 
18. When you’re sick, it’s okay to have ice cream for dinner. 
19. Gossiping about family is an act of love. 
20. Your siblings will drive you crazy: love them anyways.  

Hope you enjoyed some of the things I learned from being in the smart girls club in my family… I’m off to vacuum now (#9). 

It’s the kind of lazy Sunday where I semi tried to fight my boredom but deep down I know my soul loves the found unscheduled sunny hours of the day.  So in that way, I eventually succumbed to the tone of the day and… maybe… I snuck in a nap.

Somewhere between my nap and my desire to do something productive, I stopped by our next door neighbor’s house to say hey.  Well, it was my dog’s idea.  Hubble LOVES him (and sometimes I wonder if we could co-own my dog since she’s so clearly happy when he’s around).  After the usual attempt at a walk with her, the journey ended with her desperately pulling her weight towards his front door.  I gave in and just dropped her off at his house for a little bit.  I wonder if he minds…

It’s the kind of lazy Sunday where I semi tried to fight my boredom but deep down I know my soul loves the found unscheduled sunny hours of the day.  So in that way, I eventually succumbed to the tone of the day and… maybe… I snuck in a nap.

Somewhere between my nap and my desire to do something productive, I stopped by our next door neighbor’s house to say hey.  Well, it was my dog’s idea.  Hubble LOVES him (and sometimes I wonder if we could co-own my dog since she’s so clearly happy when he’s around).  After the usual attempt at a walk with her, the journey ended with her desperately pulling her weight towards his front door.  I gave in and just dropped her off at his house for a little bit.  I wonder if he minds…

Sentimental things were short changed in my family.  The most tradition we had was gathering on Sunday for dinner at my grandparents house- which fizzled out once the grandkids grew older and when my grandparents moved permanently to Florida.  For my grandparents, Florida consisted of endless yard work, endless car washing, and endless westerns on TV.  They loved all of the above so much so that my grandfather would actually walk around with a video camera (the size of a boom box) and create home videos of how the house looked, of the sparkling car in the driveway, and of course- the grass. Not joking.  We watched videos of the camera angle stuck on his feet walking through the grass so we could see how healthy it is in Florida.

I’m made up of a mix of English, Macedonian, and German and for some reason the Macedonian part of my family was the part that we celebrated the most.  And by most I mean, I called my grandfather “dedo” and my grandmother was “baba”.  I called one of my mom’s sisters “teta” meaning aunt and I’d get angry when people couldn’t pronounce it.  They’d say “what do you call her- tedda?”  Tedda is a stupid thing to call an aunt- it’s teta.

We did lots of family trips to stay with my grandparents in Florida.  I visited at least two times a year while I was growing up.  When my dad was giving his time to keep the family company afloat, my mom drove my brother and I to Florida.  She would triumphantly pull into the driveway in Spring Hill exactly eighteen hours after we left- no overnight stops-just driving straight through to be as efficient as possible.

I remember when my mom and grandma drove all of the kids to florida and my cousin Jane was eating a blue blow pop when, just as we crossed into Kentucky from Cincinnati, she threw up on my lap.

I remember the time that we ate at Denny’s and the service was so bad we actually got up and left.

I remember the time I was in Florida for my 13th birthday and my dad sent me 13 pink roses since he couldn’t join us.  I remember the wicker basket the roses came in.  I remember standing in the porch getting my photo taken with those roses.  It was the first time someone sent me flowers.

I remember another birthday when my mom and grandmother brought me breakfast in bed, which is significant since eating in bed was taboo in our house.

I remember driving down with my family and I was allowed to bring a friend.  In the back of the van, my friend convinced me that she could cut hair.  So with my teal caboodle on my lap to catch the severed strands and the scissors snipping in the grip of her hands, I got bangs somewhere in Georgia.

I remember a time in college when I flew down with 3 friends and we drank so much that I felt poignant shame for my actions. On top of the entire family knowing about my binge drinking episode, I threw up the entire flight home.

I remember waking up to the smell of dark roast coffee and the sound of newspaper crumpling as my grandparents ate breakfast at approximately 4:30 a.m.  Just kidding.  But not really.

I remember my parents waking up early to run and walk.  And my dad coming back from the run to swim in the pool.

I remember the moon reflection on the pool.

I remember sitting on the lanai with my grandfather at 4 o’clock happy hour when he would join the rest of the family outside while he smoked (chewed) a cigar and laughed.

I remember how my grandfather would use his athletic training expertise to dig into the pressure points on Brandon’s neck when we were dating- and when we were married.

I remember the savage way he ate bar-b-q ribs and how my grandmother looked past his heathen ways.  In more ways than just how he ate.

I dont really know what bucket to put sentimental things into.  In that way, the stoic unfeeling German side takes over.  Maybe I’m tender about Florida since my grandfather died last year and I’ve become sadly more aware of the fragility and limitations of life.  In my world, Florida has represented vacation, family, rest, growth, challenge…  In a nostalgic kind of way, I love Florida.  And in a just is kind of way, I love my family.

Sentimental things were short changed in my family.  The most tradition we had was gathering on Sunday for dinner at my grandparents house- which fizzled out once the grandkids grew older and when my grandparents moved permanently to Florida.  For my grandparents, Florida consisted of endless yard work, endless car washing, and endless westerns on TV.  They loved all of the above so much so that my grandfather would actually walk around with a video camera (the size of a boom box) and create home videos of how the house looked, of the sparkling car in the driveway, and of course- the grass. Not joking.  We watched videos of the camera angle stuck on his feet walking through the grass so we could see how healthy it is in Florida.

I’m made up of a mix of English, Macedonian, and German and for some reason the Macedonian part of my family was the part that we celebrated the most.  And by most I mean, I called my grandfather “dedo” and my grandmother was “baba”.  I called one of my mom’s sisters “teta” meaning aunt and I’d get angry when people couldn’t pronounce it.  They’d say “what do you call her- tedda?”  Tedda is a stupid thing to call an aunt- it’s teta.

We did lots of family trips to stay with my grandparents in Florida.  I visited at least two times a year while I was growing up.  When my dad was giving his time to keep the family company afloat, my mom drove my brother and I to Florida.  She would triumphantly pull into the driveway in Spring Hill exactly eighteen hours after we left- no overnight stops-just driving straight through to be as efficient as possible.

I remember when my mom and grandma drove all of the kids to florida and my cousin Jane was eating a blue blow pop when, just as we crossed into Kentucky from Cincinnati, she threw up on my lap.

I remember the time that we ate at Denny’s and the service was so bad we actually got up and left.

I remember the time I was in Florida for my 13th birthday and my dad sent me 13 pink roses since he couldn’t join us.  I remember the wicker basket the roses came in.  I remember standing in the porch getting my photo taken with those roses.  It was the first time someone sent me flowers.

I remember another birthday when my mom and grandmother brought me breakfast in bed, which is significant since eating in bed was taboo in our house.

I remember driving down with my family and I was allowed to bring a friend.  In the back of the van, my friend convinced me that she could cut hair.  So with my teal caboodle on my lap to catch the severed strands and the scissors snipping in the grip of her hands, I got bangs somewhere in Georgia.

I remember a time in college when I flew down with 3 friends and we drank so much that I felt poignant shame for my actions. On top of the entire family knowing about my binge drinking episode, I threw up the entire flight home.

I remember waking up to the smell of dark roast coffee and the sound of newspaper crumpling as my grandparents ate breakfast at approximately 4:30 a.m.  Just kidding.  But not really.

I remember my parents waking up early to run and walk.  And my dad coming back from the run to swim in the pool.

I remember the moon reflection on the pool.

I remember sitting on the lanai with my grandfather at 4 o’clock happy hour when he would join the rest of the family outside while he smoked (chewed) a cigar and laughed.

I remember how my grandfather would use his athletic training expertise to dig into the pressure points on Brandon’s neck when we were dating- and when we were married.

I remember the savage way he ate bar-b-q ribs and how my grandmother looked past his heathen ways.  In more ways than just how he ate.

I dont really know what bucket to put sentimental things into.  In that way, the stoic unfeeling German side takes over.  Maybe I’m tender about Florida since my grandfather died last year and I’ve become sadly more aware of the fragility and limitations of life.  In my world, Florida has represented vacation, family, rest, growth, challenge…  In a nostalgic kind of way, I love Florida.  And in a just is kind of way, I love my family.