My god is a Milquetoast god, with little-to-no upper body strength...

I'm confused a bit by this whole "Chrstianity-as-victim" movement... or what appears to be a movement. Let me try to summarize what I'm hearing:

Apparently, Jesus is so threatened by school boards referring to the break that lasts more than one day during winter as "Winter Break" that his followers have to shout "political correctness" and "Why are you attacking Christmas?" from the mountain-tops. Apparently, Jesus is like my friend Lyndsey (who was also born in December... although she has a birth certificate to prove it and no sub-group of followers that believes she was born at some other part of the year), who believes her birthday has to be celebrated for at least a week, if not two... or the entire month. Now, Lyndsey is just self-centered and demanding. Jesus, apparently, is just TERRIFIED of the word "Winter".

I understand, since he stole someone else's holiday, he might be worried about karma or having to pay the piper. But, he's JESUS, for cryin' out loud! Doesn't he have some sorta super-power like flying and shooting lasers out his eyes that will protect him from the evil hordes of school boards that want to do something anti-christian like being tolerant of others?

Yes, Jesus and his daddy are apparently just wimps... or at least perceived to be so by most of their followers. They have to rewrite American history (you know, the whole "under god" thing wasn't in the pledge until about 50 years ago... so "tradition" my hind end) and now simply being tolerant of others means you're ATTACKING Christmas.

Poor Christians. They really should pick a god that can stand up to those bullies...

Now, perhaps you're in what is apparently the minority of Christians who actually aren't worried that their god is a Milquetoast god with little-to-no upper body strength. Perhaps you believe they don't represent a majority of Christians. To you, I ask, "Who have you told? Who have you gotten together with to organize some sort of movement to point out the nut-job, hate-mongering, rat-crap crazy Christians don't represent your religion? How many times have you called news outlets who identify Conservative Christians as Christians, instead of Conservative Christians, to say you demand in the future they make sure to make the distinction?"

If your answer to those questions are "Nobody... nobody... none..." and you still want to complain about what I've had to say, my response to you is the same as what your response needs to be to any wing-nut who is misrepresenting that wonderful religion of yours:

Shut the frell up, nut-job.

"I'll post more soon" my butt!

And a month later...

I need to state for the record that I don't remember everyone who was in the Emergency room. I'm talking friends and family here, not people who work at the hospital...

Kathleen was there, I believe. I can't remember who else, but it seems like I'm forgetting someone.

My nurse in the emergency room, Adam, is--I believe I mentioned it last time, but if not, now you know--what my guardian angel will have to look like for me to believe it is my guardian angel. There's something about giving up all control and relying on someone that... well, that first is totally against my nature, and secondly, when forced to do it, is horrible to live through. Having someone there who genuinely seemed to want to take care of me whenever I was freaking out about nausea, shortness-of-breath, iminent death, etc., well, was nice.

When they took me to ICU, and none of my friends-and-family crowd could be there, that was when I got to finally lose it. They put me in the ICU bed, and I started feeling like I was gonna hurl, and I mentioned this. Luckily, a bar skill I've almost mastered means I can usually talk myself down from throwing up. This involves not talking, however.

So Julie and Adam were getting me all situated in bed, and I'm trying not to hurl, and just as I get that taken care of, Julie mentions that if I need something to calm me down so I can rest, she can get something.

And THAT made me lose it. I was freaked out about the T.P.A. and Adam had said it was important for me to let him know if I felt different AT ALL, so I said, "I don't want the last thing to do to be to go to sleep." Tears, tears, emotionally unstable 38-year-old on display here.

Julie was great. I guess if my guardian angel looks like her, I'd buy that. When I told her that, she said, "You are my only patient. If you want me to sit here and wake you up every time you go to sleep, I can do that. Whatever it will take to keep you calm." The sweetie.

So I spent that night and the next night in ICU. I felt great after the first night. I think I felt great that evening, but was just too tired to actually FEEL that I felt great. Or improved, anyway. Then there was the fun of getting my INR at the right level. That took until the morning of June 30th.

My insurance company wouldn't pay for Coumadin, but would pay for the generic, Warfarin. Mostly that just means they have to readjust my levels, but I guess that's okay if the insurance company is paying for the extra weekly visits to the coagulation clinc.

Originally when I started that last post, I was gonna have a contest of sorts, inviting people to vote for a name for this story. I've gotten over the contest idea, but the choices included "Islands in the Stream", "Hey Vera, We Got Another Stiff in the John.", and "I Can't Die; I'll Never Find Out What Happens on 'Lost'" (that last one was what I was thinking as they were putting me in the machine for my CAT scan).

So here's the big rub of the whole situation: I've believed for most of my life that I can pretty much take or leave this world. I don't get people who talk about how wonderful it is, etc., and I don't think I ever really will. Don't get me wrong, I think there are great part to it, but all-in-all it isn't a paradise... where would religion be if it were?

Then a thing like this happens, and I'm confronted with the realization that as much as I have little-to-no positive feelings for this place, I don't really want to leave it.

That's not the rub, by the way. The rub comes when you're in the ambulance, shocked at the realization that you actually have an opinion about whether or not you live or die, and then have the YOU of you step up and say, "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. I can't control it. I may as well just sit back and enjoy it, like getting drunk for the first time, or riding a roller coaster, or some other strange and slightly-frightening experience.

And there it is. I sorta started closing up shop. I'm trying to figure out how to turn that around, and it's difficult. I've thought about writing Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., because his "theology" is similar to mine... but I don't really know him, and that would be odd.

I spilled some of this to Ben & Tricia, and that actually helped a chunk. It wasn't weighing me down as much, anyway. But still, I don't know what to think now that I know I used to not want to leave this place, but part of me became resigned to it anyway. All of me became resigned to it, really. That's the part that freaks me out the most, I guess.

So, I keep melodramtically throwing around the phrase "nearly died", in the hopes that I'll become numb to it... and plus it strikes me as funny to sound so joke-y about it.

In good news, by Thursday I may remove myself from this boot. The doctor had me increase my weight on it by 25% each week. I had an appointment on 100% day, and he told me to take the boot off during the next 2 weeks.

Also, Thursday I'm going to see The Wilders perform, and then again on Friday. And I have family coming in town on Friday. The good kind.

The good kind of family, not the good kind of Friday. Good Friday was some time ago.

See? I think it's all about trying to make your life go back to normal. Trying to find a way to "reset to an earlier saved version", so that you're not crazy any more. Let's try it, shall we?

Vote for your favorite title...

Wow... it's been a while. I have a good excuse, though...

After summer school on June 22nd, I wheeled (I used a wheelchair while at summer school this year, because I can move much faster in a wheelchair) to the restroom. I can tell you I was in a stall without letting you know in too much detail "which I had to do", because when you can't put weight on on leg, it's best to sit down for both numbers.

As I hopped twice and sat back in my wheelchair, I felt very winded. This had been going on for about 14 hours or so, and I was thinking it was because I was getting a chest cold (I'd had that feeling in my chest since about Monday...). I turned to open the stall and wheeled backwards out of it, and then it happened...

The entire world started going away. I was short of breath and I'm not in the best of health anyway, so my first thought was, "I'm going to die right here in the bathroom at school."

The next thought was that scene in the movie "9 to 5" where the custodian finds the dead body in the wheelchair in the bathroom and says "We've got another stiff in the john." I'm thinking I might change this title to that exact quote, once I get it off the DVD.

Job one for me was to stop myself from passing out. I just told myself it wasn't allowed and started wheeling my way out. As I went out the door, I thought, "This is going to end in the hospital."

I saw Adam, the Social Studies teacher on our team, walking down the hall away from me. I called out "Anderson", in what I thought was a loud and clear voice. He told me it wasn't, and what I heard sounded like I was far away when I said it.

I called out a second time and he heard me. He asked what was wrong, and by this time I was feeling a touch better, so I said I wasn't feeling well, and that I almost passed out.

We discussed, and another teacher showed up. Since I hadn't eaten since about 6:30 or so the night before, they opted to get me some food and drink. The other teacher, John, brought me a drink and started mentioning the emergency room. Adam had to run help someone who needed something from the gym, and I only vaguely remember telling him, "I'm fine now, thanks."

I called my doctor, but his office was closed for lunch. When I told John I had to call back in 10 minutes, he got a little more adamant about the emergency room. I figured he could see what I looked like better than I could, so I agreed.

Once we were outside in natural lighting, he asked, "Do you think we should call 911?" I asked him what he thought, since I wasn't very objective at that point (part of me didn't want to cause such a big to-do).

So, 911 was called and I got to spend time in the ambulance as they got all my vitals. At this point I started figuring whatever it was (I was somewhat convinced it wasn't a heart attack, because it didn't FEEL like one), for some reason it was important to me that I keep making dumb jokes. I thought if I was going to die, I wanted the last people to see me to think I was funny.

Backtrack: Before the ambulance arrived, John loaned me his phone and I called my sister. I told her I was short of breath and light-headed, and was heading for the emergency room. She asked if she should head that way, and I told her not to worry about it. Apparently, when I got in the ambulance John hit redial and said I was making it sound less serious than it was and asked if she was going to the emergency room (if she wasn't going, he was).

They checked some stuff in the ambulance, and then took me to North Kansas City Hospital. It was after all the flurry of doctors and nurses around me, when I was alone there in room number 5, that I realized why I should have asked my sister to come: When you're in the emergency room, thinking you may die at any minute, you don't really want to be alone.

Ruth showed up about the same time the x-ray folks showed up, and I nearly bawled my eyes out. Fortunately we don't share emotions a lot in my family, so I kept it somewhat under control.

The next bawl-fest was when the doctor said, "We've ruled out all the big stuff." Again, a short-lived one.

Lyndsey showed up sometime in there (John called her), and Tricia showed up some time after that (Lyndsey called her). Due to how both of their fathers left this world, they weren't in the best shape when they arrived.

Tim the principal showed up. He'd arrived at the school and heard all the news and came to see me. Alice and Patrick showed up (Tim, the principal, called her).

Leigh showed up some time after that.

For the purposes of my internal clock, by the way, everthing at the hospital happened at 1:30 in the afternoon. I was shocked to learn it was evening when they wheeled me to ICU. But I get ahead of myself.

A gaggle of doctors came through. Dr. Ryan (the emergency room doctor) told me I had a blood clot in each lung. They figured it came from my surgery on my leg. Apparently this sort of thing happens 20% of the time. He went on to tell me about treatments and how they didn't want to use TPA because bad things could happen (internal bleeding, blood on the brain...). I agreed those were bad things.

Dr. Bowlin arrived. He was taking over for Dr. Ryan. He told me the same things, especially the part about why we wanted to avoid using TPA. Okay, I'm officially sufficiently frightened of TPA at this point.

Dr. Hawa (I might be making up that spelling) arrived and said the same thing, making sure that I associated TPA with a bloody, brain-damaged death.

Then they checked out my chest with the EKG/Sonogram thingy. Well, apparently the right side of my heart was trying so hard to push blood past the clots in my lungs that it was almost twice the size it should be. Normally there are 25 thingies of pressure on it, but I was at 70 thingies. "Use of TPA is indicated," Dr. Hawa says after he explains this to me.

"So you're gonna use the scary drug?"

Welcome to bawl-fest number three. (I have to clarify, these weren't actually bawling fits, but tears appeared in my eyes in front of other people, which never happens).

To wrap this up and save more for a later post:

They put me on TPA in addition to the Heparin they already had me on, and I was afraid to go to sleep that night because I didn't want that to be the last thing I ever did.

I just got out today, and I'm happy to say I feel pretty good (other than being tired, because a hospital is THE WORST PLACE to sleep... especially when they keep coming in to take your vitals and your blood and fix the lead that fell off and so on and so forth). I'm going to see my leg doctor here shortly, and we'll see what he says about me walking on it.

There's much more to this tale, but I want to eat lunch now. The clots are gone, and I'm on Coumadin to keep my blood thin until I've been active on this leg for a while. Thanks to lots of people (a list will be coming), especially John, who made me get this looked at.

Oh yeah, did you figure out that the blood clots would have to have gone thru my heart to get to my lungs? That took me about 24 hours to work out, and I freaked out a bit at that.

Okay, enjoy your day. I'll post more soon, I hope.

I've fallen, and I can't get up...

Oh, the things that have happened since the last post...

I went to OKC, and it was a great time. We had a friendly waitress at Beverly's Pancake Corner. Her name was Brittany (I think), and her mother's name was Smokey, but we never got to meet her because we weren't able to come in the following day as planned.

The memorial was a downer, and we practically had to carry Jhoneric through it, and it was hard not to mist up going through the museum, but still it was a great trip.

Speaking of great trips...

Mother's Day weekend I saw Mom. It wasn't as bad as previous visits, so I'm in a slightly better place. I got to visit Les & Paulette (they are at the top of my webpage (and are the pic you click to get here, actually) and are my 2nd set of parents).

And speaking of great trips...

On Mother's Day, I was at Ben & Tricia's (as is my Sunday custom), doing laundry (as is my custom now that my washing machine has died and is the custom on days when I think I can save a few bucks by doing laundry there...), and watching our Sunday shows. I went upstairs during the first commercial break in Desperate Housewives because I'd forgotten all about my laundry. There wasn't an actual rush to beat the commercials, because they have PVR and can pause the show, etc.

But, as I was carrying my whites down the stairs, I noticed that the commercial break was not over. I was very amazed by this. I was so amazed, in fact, that I forgot I still had one or two steps left to go!

There was cracking, and tearing, and gasps, and my hand instinctively doing emergency re-positioning of bones, and all kinds of fun.

Olivia was asleep, but Maddie was not, and she was beside herself with worry. If there's one thing to take your mind off your horrible situation, it's the desperate need to get a four-year-old's mind off your horrible situation.

All kinds of insurance fun will be discussed later, perhaps. But the emergency room doc thought I should be admitted and that surgery would be needed. Then later--after some insurance-related thought, I'm sure--they decided to send me on my way and have me call the orthopedic surgeon the following day.

I ended up having the surgery this past Thursday. Good times.

I'm currently staying with my sister, and debating when I should return home. It's mostly the fact that I have stairs at home and would be alone that is keeping most people arguing for me to stay either with Ruth, Ben & Tricia, or other volunteers (props to Lyndsey).

I'm going a bit stir crazy, especially now that something's up with my connection to the school via the web, and I don't know how much of this I can stand. And I need to shave.

So there's the news. I hope everyone is having a great day.

Oh, I forgot! Andra came to town and I missed it! That was just before Mother's Day weekend. I'm upset about that, but not as upset as her, I'm sure, since I've yet to contact her about it. I realized Saturday night that I never got back to her or Bee. I'm a schmuck. So it goes.

What mood?

Oh, and by the way... I'm thinking this horrible empty "no 'good-bye' moment" thing is a large part that has made me such the anti-social creature that I've become over the past few years. Also, it might be part of the aging process.

But I do find it hard to get motivated to hang with folks. It seems sorta what's-the-point-y. Only the persistent ones seem to get me to hang with them. I need to work on this.

Scott's birthday was this past Tuesday. I meant to go visit him. This week was just too crazy. It took me 10 years to go the first time, so I'm sure he didn't expect me to show. Plus there's the whole "being dead" thing. Jhoneric said he go with me next time, though, so that's a bonus.

Anyway, this is mainly for those of you who think I've written you off or whatever. I'm just in a mood. It'll either go away or it won't. Nothing personal. If you keep contacting me, you'll have more success, though.

Again with the Happy Easter.

Speaking of death...

It's Easter, and the topic on everyone's mind is death... albeit mostly associating it with that whole conquering death thing that Easter is about. Or something.

So what a great opportunity to share something that I am unable to share with anyone in person, because it's sort of horribly emotional and nothing I want to talk about in person.

We have this song we're singing in this next concert which is about "mother". I find the last verse--which mainly focuses on how when it's her time to go, I hope she sees the love in my eyes that I saw in hers as I was growing up--to be particularly painful to make it through.

Here's the thing: there's no "good-bye" moment with someone in my mom's state. I mean, it's not just that whole, "I never got to say good-bye" or "The last thing I said to her was, 'You've got tuna salad on your blouse'" thing. There's NO "good-bye" moment. I'll never know when the "good-bye" moment was. I'll never know what the ACTUAL last thing I said to her was, in her mind.

Was it when I asked her about Uncle Bud at that Hardee's in Mexico, MO a few years ago? Was it something that I said to her that Christmas she came to Omaha? Was it me running in as a little boy, a deep gash in the back of my right hand, screaming, "I'm gonna die!" Was it some awful thing I said to her in my horrible teen years? Was it me asking her if dad was going to die?
Does she even remember me existing?

The big thing is, where is she? Where's that woman that was my mother? The one who said, "You just as well laugh as cry" and "Who's driving the truck?" and "Like a bicycle," (in response to someone saying they were too tired) and the one who'd sing "Marsie Doats" and about ten other old standards whenever the whim would strike her... that woman is where, exactly?

And who is staring at me when I'm at the nursing home? Who is giving me that angry look? Is it the woman who said, "If I ever get like gramdma, I want you to promise you'll kill me." Is she laying there, looking at me, thinking, "Well, you promised, didn't you?"

Happy Easter, everybody!

Long Time No Non-Post

Sorry about that. I'll try to do better. But now I'm going to bed. Next week is Spring Break. I'll try to post more then. Maybe I'll learn about paragraph breaks, too.

More Birthday Hijinks!

Or is it Hi-Jinks? Whatever.

I was quite remiss when I forgot to mention that Andra sent me a couple of VERY funny e-cards for my birthday. I very much enjoyed those.

I'm going to Ben & Tricia's soon for the birthday party. I hope everyone enjoyed Tricia's comment to my earlier post...

I think when I make my version of that "get to know your friends" thingy, I'm going to put this one in: Has anyone ever thrown a surprise party for you? If so, give details.

What do you think?

Happy Birthday to Me!

And a Happy Birthday to my first cousin (once removed), Casey!

Well, here I am, 38 and all. I have no vehicle. I rent my home. I have no credit rating to speak of. Bask in the glow of my success!

So, about the car thing. Mine went BOOM on I-35 last Sunday. It was great. White smoke everywhere, me flying down the road at 65 m.p.h., trying to move over to get to the next exit.

Good times.

But, on the "life-don't-suck-so-much" side, I have friends who are willing to help me get home and offer me a temporary vehicle and sell me their old vehicles. These aren't all the same friends. I just mean I have friends who are willing to help. Hooray for them!

The JAWNZ (since Jhoneric spells his name J-O-H-N and Jon spells his the way I just spelled it, I don't know how to refer to them in writing... you can say "the Jons" or "the Johns" without anybody knowing how you spell it... but writing it is more tougher) gave me a couple of terrific birthday gifts. Lyndsey also gave me a couple of fun gifts at our weekly dinner on Wednesday. And both of her kids drew me birthday gifts, which makes for nice fridge art. Almost all the kids at school signed a card for me (and the ones who couldn't will be doing so over the next few weeks, if they like), and I've received several cards from friends.

And I haven't checked the mail yet today!

Now I'm going to go call Casey, because I haven't wished him a happy birthday for several years. But since our birthday is on a Saturday this year, I have plenty of time to sit down and do that. I'm a horrible first cousin (once removed).

I have a birthday celebration tomorrow at the Hart home, and some things to take care of today... so all in all a nice birthday weekend, methinks. I'll try to report back later to confirm that.

Another stupid questionnaire...

This is what I sent out in mass e-mail last week. Just thought I'd share. Maybe I'll find others from years past and share them as well. Enjoy.

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Mark Travis Riggs

2. WHAT COLOR PANTS ARE YOU WEARING? What kind ofquestion is that? Is this some kind of sick-o phone-sex question? Are yougoing to ask if I'm alone now? Well, are you? ARE YOU? I am... so what are you wearing? I'm wearing grey sweat pants, my "I'm home" outfit.

3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Water dripping into thekitchen sink. If I had the CD player on it would be either Cyndi Lauper(Hat Full of Stars or Sisters of Avalon), R.E.M. (Out of Time orAutomatic for the People), The Williams Brothers (self-titled), or The Prolcaimers (Sunshine on Leith). (It's one of those six-CD do-dads.) If I was in the car and NPR wasn't doing it for me, They Might Be Giants' CD Mink Car is at the ready. And lately my morning CD in my classroom has been The Wilders' CD Spring A Leak. So don't judge me as a music-hater just becuase I'm listening to water dripping in my kitchen sink right now.

4. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Cold pizza forbreakfast,washed down with orange juice, not the warm Coke Christine Lavin mentions in the song "Cold Pizza for Breakfast".

5. DO YOU WISH ON STARS? When I see them. More often I hold mybreath and make a wish when crossing a bridge, but that's usually back home only, when crossing the Mississippi.

6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? I've done this questionnaire before, because I'm remembering my last answer to this question. I don't know. Perhaps the least-used one, because nobody likes to feel used.

7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? I haven't been outside, but Ithink it's butt cold. It was butt cold last night, anyway.

8. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? I'm tryingto think. It's been a while since I've been on the phone. It might have beenThursday morning at school, when another teacher called my room to ask me something. It was Ed Bowman, if that's the case.

9. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS? What the hell kind of question is that? You tell me to send this back to them, so no matter what I actually feel about the person (and I do love her to no end, and will always have a strong batch of son-to-mother-type feelings for her), I'm going to have to say something nice, right? I suppose if Iwanted the person to never e-mail me again I could say something negative, but that's kinda rude. Anyway, I already said I like her, so there.

10. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? I'm doing okay. How are you? I'm a bit tired, and I just now remembered I was supposed to be somewhere two hours ago, but I'm still doing okay. I wish my life was different in alot of ways, but I'm still okay. I mean, if I had to do it all over again... man, why'd you have to bring this up?

11. FAVORITE BEVERAGE? Ice water.

12. FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Bud Light.

13. FAVORITE SPORT? Making fun of those different than me. I kid. Bowling. And making fun of those different than me.

14. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS OR GLASSES? I'm supposed to wear glasses. I wear neither.

15. # OF SIBLINGS? 3 sisters, 4 brothers

16. FAVORITE MONTH? December

17. FAVORITE FOOD? Chicken Burrito from Chipotle. I like the hotsauce and black beans with that. Sour cream and cheese, also.

18. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? It could have been "Man on Fire",but I don't think so. I'd rented two other movies at the same time, so I can't remember for sure which one was last (and I can't remember what the other movies were).

19. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR? It is hard to choose between Christmas, the last day of school, and any day I can sleep in late.

20. WHAT DO YOU DO TO VENT? Usually I type a long vent-y e-mail to a friend.

21. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD? Record player.

22. SUMMER OR WINTER? Both.

23. HUGS OR KISSES? It depends... if we're talking "from a bear and a spider-woman", I'd pick "kisses" for the bear, and "hugs" from the spider-woman... just because they haven't been done as much.

24. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Chocolate Malt

25. DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO REPLY? Seriously, I need to put together one of these, because this is the stupidest thing I've seen onhere yet. No, I want to wonder if they hate me, so I'd rather they not respond. DUH!

26. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Tricia, but she won't send it to very many people if she does.

27. WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Tricia, because her behavior is hard to predict sometimes. Or Say, since she's the one whosent it to me in the first place.

28. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS? I live alone in a house I rent. Thanksfor making me put it into words.

29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Just now after I had toput that last answer into words. I kid. It was Tuesday night at Chorus rehearsal. We sang this song about Mother. It's a tear-jerker.

30. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED? Probably a book I'd finished reading and sat on the floor by my bed, then accidentally kicked it under there. Plus lots of dust.

31. WHO IS THE FRIEND YOU HAVE HAD THE LONGEST? That I'm not related to? Tricia.

32. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT? Bowled (HORRIBLY, I might add), then came home and watched some TV, then slept for 10 hours.

33. FAVORITE SMELL? Winter. Also, the smell of cookies baking.

34. WHO INSPIRES YOU? To do what? Several people inspire me, but look at my life. They're not doing a very good job of it!

35. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF? Zombies and cuts. Death (of everyone else, not me... I mean, I'll be dead, so what will I care?).

36. PLAIN, BUTTERED OR SALTED POPCORN? Buttered, but I'm going to regret it later.

37. FAVORITE CAR OR TRUCK? It would be nice to afford one of each... but I'd prefer to have a truck.

38. FAVORITE FLOWER? I've SO answered this before,too... it's the one that used to grow alongside our house when I was a kid. Yellow... I don't know what it was called.

39. NUMBER OF KEYS ON YOUR KEY RING? 5, but one is just for looks.

40. CAN YOU JUGGLE? A little. Why do you ask?

41. FAVORITE DAY OF THE WEEK? Friday or Sunday. Maybe Saturday.Wednesday is good, too. I never quite got the hang of Thursdays.

42. WHAT DID YOU DO ON YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY? Okay, I'm supposed to remember that far back? I think I... um... well, I think we had school that day... I am trying hard to remember here... I don't know.

43. DO YOU OWN A DONOR CARD? I used to. I don't think I do now.

44. FAVORITE ANIMAL? Small furry creature from Alpha Centauri.

45. FAVORITE VACATION SPOT? I don't vacate often. Somewhere with a beach would be nice.

46. FAVORITE AGE? For me? I don't know. I'll get back to youwhen I've lived through them all and can compare.

47. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? GAMES magazine.

48. FAVORITE WEB SITE? http://wildersontour.blogspot.com/

49. FAVORITE SOAP OPERA? Desperate Housewives

50. FAVORITE LANGUAGE OTHER THAN ENGLISH? Pig Latin, but sinceSay said it first I'll go with German

One last holiday thought...

I noticed something last night that I hadn't noticed before...

I had turned off the tree (yes, the tree is still up... great, now I have to interrupt the earlier thought to explain my Personal Holiday Season: For me the holiday season begins the day after Thanksgiving and extends until the end of the first week in January. I cringe if I see holiday stuff up before Thanksgiving, but my reaction is not as dramatic if things are taken down before the 7th is over... but I do believe it's bad luck to take it down before the 1st. Now, where was I? Oh yeah...) last night and then realized I'd left something in the kitchen. I dreaded going to get it, because the trip from the kitchen back to the stairs would mean having to see the tree in its unlit state (see earlier post regarding unlit tree and negative emotions). But I went anyway.

Bonus surprise! The lights shining through the window (my outside lights are on a timer) reminded me very much of the lights we had on our front porch when we were kids. They are basically the same type of lights. Every year we would use the lights to form a star on one half of the front porch. There were two doors leading off the front porch (side by side... which, come to think of it, was kinda odd... I should try to find out why that was). One door led to the living room, and the other led to what was my bedroom for most of my childhood.

I have memories from early childhood of sneaking out of bed to peer out the window in the door leading to the porch (a door we never used, mainly because the porch swing was right in front of it, I think), and all the happy feelings seeing those lights gave me.

Seriously, I need to go into analysis to find out what the deal is with holiday lights and my emotional state.

Happy New Year!

I made it back safe and sound, but was too wrapped up in life and updating my website to post anything. Dane and I went out a couple of times while I was back home. He knows about as much as what's going on in Center as I do.

I have yet to run into anyone I recognize while in Center... outside of family, I mean.

Had fun bowling New Year's Eve, and then went to a party that wasn't my traditional New Year's Eve party. I had a good time, but I did miss my old NYE gang.

PLJ&T had their traditional NYD gig, and it was fun (I got there very late... I woke up somewhat early (for NYD, anyway), and decided to lay down for a nap around 11:00. Leigh called and woke me up at 3:40. I'm such the loser...)

We had a work day at school yesterday, and today we dismissed early because of this lovely ice-storm we're having. I'm looking forward to the loss of power and freezing cold house. With luck, there could be some frozen water pipes in the mix! Hooray!

I have something akin to the flu. I don't know how to tell a cold from the flu, so we'll just call it either/or. It's yucky, but what are you going to do.

Here's hoping for a snow day tomorrow, so I don't have to call in sick!

We're starting fractions this month. I need to go figure out some activities to use. Everyone have a good January... and there are only 25 more shopping days until my birthday! Or is it 24? Do I count my birthday or not?

I'm going home...

I'm heading out for a couple of days. I should have been gone some time ago, but I overslept.

Don't let anything exciting happen in KC while I'm gone!

A Visit with Scooter

Andra and I drove up to Brookfield on Thursday, December 23rd, to finally visit Scott's grave. The fact it's been almost ten years since I heard about his death and still this is the first time I've gone is still sorta weighing heavily on my conscience.

It was a nice trip up. Andra and I talked about many varied topics: people from college, how life as someone who is almost 40 is, horrible/wonderful things that happened in college, horrible/wonderful things that happened after college, how we came to be the people we are, lots of conversation about Scott (a.k.a. Scooter).

Brookfield kinda took us by surprise, so we didn't even realize we'd passed TT (which is the road the graveyard is just past). We drove all the way through Brookfield on 36 highway looking for TT, and had to turn around. We went to one graveyard we'd spotted, but it was "the other" graveyard in Brookfied, not the one we wanted.

We stopped at a gas station to get directions, and still managed to drive by the graveyard "exit" (it's really just a right turn that sneaks up on you).

I am still trying to decide if it was appropriate that it was so cold that day. I mean, if the world felt to Scooter the way I felt that day... well, I'll just stop at "it was too cold" and leave it at that.

Except to add that the ground was actually warm, which makes where I was going with that last bit even ickier. But the ground was warm. We'd both gotten down to brush away dirt and dead grass that had gotten on his grave and I noticed the ground felt warm, so I stayed there while we had our visit.

As you may notice from the picture above, his birthdate was not on the stone. This bothered me for some reason, and Andra (who has a background in the whole "history and research" area), said it would be easy to get his Death Certificate from City Hall. We'd just need a couple of bucks. So after playing Scott some music and just generally chatting about things, we went to City Hall.

Easier said than done, however. They have a lovely City Square/Park in Brookfield, and City Hall isn't on it. The two people we stopped to ask weren't able to help us. Andra finally had to go into a business and ask them. We got to City Hall, but it closed at noon that day, and wouldn't be open again until after Christmas.

Andra had the idea of going to the funeral home that handled his funeral (she had done a sort of pre-visit research in order to learn where Scott was buried... see, she's the queen of research). She said they would have a record there. I hummed and hawed and she said, "Well, we're here now..." so I went. But I told her she'd have to do all the talking because I didn't know what to ask for.

And that's the story of how I learned Scott's birthday again. I say "again" because I'm sure I knew it at one point, even if it was just whenever his birthday came around while we were in college.

Anyway, back to the site: Andra had heard from the guy at the funeral home that Scott's mom had died recently. We thought he meant his birth mother, but it was actually the woman who raised him. That was another sad thing, as Dawn had said (again, almost 10 years ago) that when I visited Scott's grave, I should go see his Grandmother, because she would love to hear from friends of Scott. I guess I got there too late.

Bask in the guilt.

And there is this feeling of guilt that comes with it. We walked into the funeral home and Andra said we were friends of Scott's, and I had to wonder if the people were thinking, "Some friends... where were you during the dark night of his soul?"

Where was I? I know where I was in my life. I'd just left L.A., and was wishing I could get back there, but wanted to go back with money and not live as month-to-month as I had before. I wanted to know what I wanted to do with my life. I keep trying to remember what it was I did for Thanksgiving in 1994. I know I had been in Butler earlier in the month, helping Jason. I assume I was at home. Jordan would have been just a few weeks old. But as Thanksgivings go (granted, I've had a few "stand-out" Thanksgivings), it doesn't stand out at all. I didn't even know it should have stood out until the following summer.

So I don't know where I was. Lost in my life, I guess. I think I'm still there sometimes, and that's no good. But what to do, what do to?

If you're driving east on highway 36 and almost to Brookfield, and you happen to see this UMB sign:

Do me a favor and wave "hi" to Scooter for me. Tell him I miss him and I wish he could write me a letter.

Field vs. Pasture

Tricia read my blog, and has this to add (and opted not to put it as a comment, I guess...):

This is the farm girl talking....... A field is a piece of ground that has been or will be, with the intent, tilled for the purpose of growing a busheled or measurable crop.
A pasture is a piece of ground that is grassy, and may or may not have been sowed withsome type of specific seed, with the intent to graze animals (put out to pasture), or propagate the seed sowed.
The piece of ground you refer to is most likely an overgrown lot, unless it
is the Stewart's land you refer too, and that is a pasture, or at least was when we were kids.

So there you have it, folks. However, it was always referred to as "Opal Palmer's Pasture" (I've since remembered it was referred to as a "pasture"), which makes me wonder if at some point she didn't keep some sort of animals there. I know there was a fence at one end of it, so maybe she did at one point.

Road Trip

Tomorrow--or later this morning, really--Andra and I are making a road trip up to Brookfield. 9 years and 4 months (or so) after learning of the death of Scott David McKinney (who died a little over 10 years ago), I'm finally going to see his grave.

I have mixed feelings about it. I was over at Bee's tonight. Andra was there with letters Scott and I both wrote to her in the early 90s. Lots of things Scott had written were very... sad, I guess... in retrospect.

I wish he could be alive today, and that Andra and I could be going to visit him in person instead of visting his grave.

I wish whatever made him so sad and willing to leave this world would have been something we could have helped him through... or even known about.

Wish in one hand, spit in the other... see which one gets full faster.

Oh Christmas Tree

And as long as we're on the topic of things my brain are having a hard time dealing with...

What is it about a Christmas tree lit with the individually-blinking lights that makes me so content? I can't explain it. Maybe it's the fact it's my own tree, and when I was a kid I always wanted to have a tree that contained individually-blinking lights only. Now I do. I can sit in front of the tree with all the rest of the lights in the house off and not get bored for hours. I just feel so happy.

Conversely, why is it the saddest thing I've ever seen when I turn off the lights and am heading upstairs and I glance back and see the tree silhouetted in the window, dark and grim?

I'm just wondering. I'm glad to have the relaxing therapy every evening in December... but I feel like Lot's wife every time I glance back at my darkened tree before heading upstairs... only without that whole "oops, I'm a pillar of salt" feeling.

Going home...

I've been meaning to write about this since Ruth and I first went back to work on Dane's NEW AND IMPROVED room, but haven't had a spare moment.

I don't know how much I'll get into it now, but there was something about seeing the town I grew up in so changed, and mostly it didn't seem to be for the better.

I had to wonder if kids still rode their bikes around town in the summer, and if families still knew each other as well as they did when I was a kid. We weren't 8th generation Centerites or anything close, so it's not like my family was known for generations... but still, I had older brothers and an older sister, and it wasn't like we'd arrived a day or two before I was born.

There was this big field or pasture (I'll have to look both words up for clarification on the difference between the two) behind our house. We would go there to fly kites. It was really nothing more than a big grassy area in the middle of the large block we lived on. It's till there. The tree we had a tire swing on is still there.

Lots of things are still there. But there just seems to be so much missing that I have this huge urge to write all about it. It feels like I have to explain to people, like Costello trying to explain to Abbot that what Abbot sees when he looks out the window isn't what Costello saw when he was just looking out that same window a short time ago. Only on a much larger scale.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that out there. The passing of time is an awful thing at times. I think I might have to come out against it.

Okay, where did those 3 months go?

Wow... time has slipped by me. Again.

Well, I wanted to post this deep, introspective piece about going home again when I went back home back in... September or October or so... but that didn't happen. Maybe I'll try to piece it together another time.

I do, however, have a deep, introspective piece to throw in about my Christmas tree. I'll try to do that after I update my home page for December... and I hope to do that on Saturday.

Keep reading my not-a-blog, all two of you!

Two Funerals an Open House... and Some Bowling... and Some Singing

This was a busy week. I'm sure that's why whatever this sinus/congestion crud is that won't leave my system felt welcome to stay.

I had my first chorus rehearsal this week. The word is "OVERWHELMED". Lots of music to memorize... but then again, memorizing music is easier than memorizing lines, so I guess I can take some of the "whelm" away. Met lots of nice people, and a couple of people I've... um... met before. Always fun.

After-school activities started this week, so Tuesday and Thursday I got to stay after school... and on Thursday I was there until 7:30-ish for Open House...

But wait, there's more!

Right after Open House the team from last year went to a funeral home for a visitation. One of last year's students had a mother who was fighting cancer. They thought things had turned around, I guess, but then they hadn't after all.

I would say that 13/14 is too young to lose your mother, but really, when is it a walk in the park to lose your mother?

Still I felt for the girl. She seemed to be holding up okay, but I think part of that is some strange cultural leftovers where we expect much wailing and gnashing of teeth or something. So when you see a total lack of wailing and very little teeth-gnashing, you think, "Wow, they're holding up great."

So that was my Thursday. Then on Friday and went to the visitation and part of the funeral for Alice's grandson, who was one week away from making it into this world when he passed on to the next. In retrospect, I wish I would have just taken the afternoon off. Somehow I got it in my head the funeral was at 11:00, and I figured I could make that on my planning time and be back to school in time for the first class after plan time. It started closer to 11:30, so I had to leave shortly after things started.

Luckily for me this sinus/congestion/sore throat thing was making my throat all "hey-you-need-to-cough-y", so it made for a sensible reason to get up and leave the room.

The parents seemed to be holding up okay... again with the whole, "What did you expect? Wailing and gnashing of teeth?"

And I'm sure there's been much wailing... much teeth-gnashing... much in the Deep Sense of Loss department.

And here's something about when something like this happens: It makes you appreciate life more, and that appreciation of life makes you sadder about what happened. Kind of a vicious circle, really.

Meaning, I had the thought "Well, this world is one crappy place most of the time, so maybe skipping is not the worst thing that could happen to a person." Then this thought was followed by my thinking of all the things he's going to miss out on, and thus the appreciation for the good things this place has to offer... which is immediately followed by a sense of sadness for all this person will be missing... which brings you back to "What a crappy place this is most of the time." And around and around we go.

Which is to say, what a week.

Luckily I had my first week of Friday Night League, and I bowled much and laughed almost as much. Back to the good things of this world.

And I bowled too well for my first week. I set my average much higher than it was before.

Oh well.

Everyone have a good life until (and even beyond) my next post... and see how many things you can think of that are "Okay, life is crappy except for THAT".