Please Help, If You Can

Most of you know that I'm an avid follower of Cake Wrecks (www.cakewrecks.com). Well, a week or so ago, Jen and John (Cake Wrecks owners) decided to start a charity drive for the two weeks before Christmas. Each day, they've highlighted a different charity and encouraged readers to give a dollar to each charity each day. They even asked readers to suggest charities and have picked some awesome ones who I truly believe are doing great things.

Today, however, is different. Today's donations are going to a 27-year-old woman who, a few days ago, lost her house, her belongings, and, most importantly, her husband and two children, in a fire. She and her 12-year-old step-daughter were rescued, but the husband died while trying to save the other children. The fire still is under investigation, but one thing is known: the rental house in which they all lived was not equipped with working smoke detectors.

So, here's what I'm asking: First, please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers; they need to know that people care. Second, if you can help financially, I'm sure that every cent would be much-appreciated; a trust has been set up for the family. Donations can be made by either linking back to this blog or to Cake Wrecks. Third, PLEASE go home and check your smoke detectors tonight. This could easily happen to any one of us.

****Please note that I do not personally know anyone associated with this tragedy, but it's really made me think about how much I love my friends and family.****

Something to Believe In

Yesterday, I went to lunch with a really good friend. As is often the case, our conversation somehow strayed to a random topic; I’m still not quite sure how our conversation stumbled upon the topic of religion, but I guess that doesn’t necessarily matter.

We began to discuss the ways that some of the ultra religious treat those who aren’t necessarily as stringent in their beliefs, as well as the opposite: how some of those who are strict atheists treat those who are Christians and are believers in a higher power. It seems to me that both sides are so totally and completely sure that they’re 100% correct and are equally sure that the other side is absolutely wrong. In turn, then, both sides judge one another and try to force their opinions on the other.

In this aspect, I fully believe that both sides are wrong. I don’t think it’s necessary to force your belief upon another person. Instead, I believe that it’s important for people to be allowed to make up their own minds and come to their own conclusions in regards to religion.

My thoughts, then, turn to this idea: wouldn’t the world be a much happier place if we all just lived by the principle of the Golden Rule? Wouldn’t we be better off to treat others as we want to be treated? If we were to treat others this way, including by not judging them based upon their belief systems, then perhaps the world would be a better place.

Home Sweet Home

I’ve never been one to get homesick. Even as a child, it was pretty rare for me to be homesick when I was staying somewhere else. It’s not that I didn’t love my family, but rather, I always enjoyed new adventures. Sure, there were a few times in college, especially my freshman year, that I longed for home, but they were very few and far between. It’s kind of surprising, then, that for the first time in my life, I’m really, truly homesick right now.

Three weeks ago, I flew to Florida for a week for work. While I was in DeLand, my phone rang and it was my mom, telling me that my grandpa had passed away. Before dawn the next morning, I was on a flight back to OKC. Once I finally landed, I hopped in my car, and within two hours, was on the road to Kansas to be with my family. After nearly a week with them, I headed back home, where I spent three nights before hopping yet another plane back to Florida…and here I sit.

The feeling of homesickness didn’t really hit until last night, as I sat in my hotel room, missing everyone and everything. I slept in an ungodly large and comfortable bed…alone. No Jason. No puppies. No one. My coworkers with whom I’m friends weren’t here yet, so I was on my own for dinner.

Why am I homesick? I live alone and usually enjoy some solitary time, but this time, it’s different. I’m guessing it’s because I’ve finally had enough time to process all of the events from the past month.

The good news is that it’s better today. I’ve been very busy and will remain busy right up until it’s time for me to head home.

I enjoy traveling for work and I like to see new things and places…and meet new people. But there’s definitely something to be said for being home for a while!

People Watching

One of my favorite activities is people watching – just sitting back and observing the behavior of people in a random setting. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve learned that one of the best places to people watch is in an airport (after all, I’ve had plenty of experience with it lately!). Yesterday morning, I had a 6:15 am flight out of OKC. As I sat and observed those around me, I began to wonder about their stories, including where they were going.

How about the woman about my age who was walking through the airport in jeans, a hoodie, a flipflops, carrying a laptop backpack? Looking at her was kind of like looking in a mirror – except, of course, for the fact that she had dark hair and was skinnier than me. Is she traveling on business, but like me, traveling in comfortable clothes because she detests flying in a suit? Is she flying somewhere for vacation? Going home slightly early for the holidays?

Was the very large, Santa-resembling man sitting in my row traveling to see his family? On business? Or does Santa fly Southwest when he’s got a horrible cold and his sleigh isn’t working?

I do know that the woman sitting next to me was flying from New Orleans to Albany, New York, because she readily told me, even though I didn’t really want to talk; she’d been to see her grandchildren. (I was annoyed with her because there was a nearly totally empty plane and she sat RIGHT beside me – not even in the aisle seat – and didn’t smell great.)

And the man in the emerald green velour track suit, with the burgundy fanny pack, and Barbie pink hat? I have NO idea and, honestly, I’m a little scared to ask!

The cool thing, though, is that airports really show you a true picture of life. You see people of all walks of life, from all different backgrounds, with all different stories. It’s just a little reminder that the world is a very big place.

A Little Less Bright

Tonight, at least to me, the world is a little less bright. My Grandpa Abe (Poppy) passed away this afternoon, just barely a month after turning 90. My heart is hurting so much right now and I want nothing more than to have a hug from someone I love. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in Florida on business right now and can't get back to Oklahoma/Kansas until tomorrow around noon.

Pop wasn't in very good health for the past six-12 months. It's been very hard for me to reconcile myself with this fact, but when he suffered his first stroke back in August, I told myself that, while I wouldn't have him here forever, I will always have my memories. And what great memories I have...

The way his bright blue eyes would twinkle when he was teasing me.

Watching and cussing KU basketball and Royals baseball together.

Seeing him be so tickled over sharing his homemade caramel popcorn with Tess.

Him coming by my house to surprise me when I was living in Emporia during college and again when I was living in Hillsboro.

The smell of his stinky old King Edward cigars and his aftershave/cologne.

Knowing that he was proud of me and, no matter how ugly I might feel, that I was beautiful to him.

Drinking wine one spring afternoon with him (and several other family members) in his living room. (He and I were the only ones who liked the wine, so, consequently, we drank most of it.)

Watching his eyes light up when I took him a can of honey-roasted peanuts last time I saw him (he was in the hospital after his first stroke and asked me to bring him "a surprise").

Him wearing and loving his "dude cap" all day last Christmas.

Oh, god, I'm going to miss him...I already do. I hate knowing that I'll never see him again...never hear his loud and sometimes gravelly voice. I'd give anything to have just one last day with him...one last day where he wasn't sick and suffering, when we could just sit in the living room and keep each other company.

I know that there are people who didn't think he was as wonderful as I did...and that makes me sad. They don't know what they were missing.

A Sad, Mad World

This morning when I was in the shower, I heard news of a death in Nichols Hills. Like many adults these days, I didn't stop to think too much about it, as I've become somewhat inured to the death that often surrounds us. What I heard next, however, stopped me, shocked me, and literally made me sick to my stomach: the deceased person was a little boy, who was not yet ten years old. That along is horrible, but what I heard next made it even worse. The suspect? His very own father.

This little boy's father, who is an OKC physician, is accused of murdering his own son in the middle of the night by stabbing him to death. The boy's mother currently is hospitalized with non-life-threatening defensive stab wounds, that apparently were inflicted upon her while she was trying to protect her son.

Why? There are so many questions out there, but the one that's absolutely foremost in my mind is WHY? Why is this little boy dead tonight, at his very own father's hand? Why?

There are so many things in this world that make little sense. This one makes absolutely no sense.

That poor little boy. His poor mom.

May justice be swift and appropriate.

But until that time, I can only ask...why?

Snap Judgements

For the past couple of days, I've been quietly watching and reading the news coverage of the mass shooting at Fort Hood. To say the least, I am horrified by what happened and feel a deep sense of sympathy for all of those who have been impacted by this senseless tragedy.

When the shooter's name was released, along with his religious preference, I knew that things were about to get interesting, with his Middle Eastern-sounding name and Muslim background. While I knew that some people would be nasty, I never thought imagined that the hate would be spread this far.

Since Friday, I've watched comments be added to online news stories and have listened to people around me, the majority of whom profess to be devout Christians, denigrate all Muslims. Comments such as, "The world would be a better place if we just took care of the Muslims by wiping that religion off of the face of this planet", completely and utterly blow my mind.

What little I know about Islam includes the thought that it is, for the most part, a peaceful religion. Yes, there are members out there who are fanatics and believe that senseless killings are necessary, but the religion, as an entirety, does not support radical violence.

So, who are some of the people making these horrific blanket statements? Many of them are self-professed Christians. I grew up in a Christian home and was taught to love my neighbor and to not judge. Apparently, these Christians choose to ignore those tenets of the religion.

This just makes me sad. I don't understand why people have to make such blanket statements and rush judgments about a person based upon his or her religion. For that matter, why is it that we have to think that one religion is better than another? Wouldn't the world be a better place if we all agreed to just respect one another and our beliefs, no matter what they might be?

The bottom line is this: more than a dozen people lost their lives in Texas one day last week. Instead of judging the accused shooter based upon his religion, why don't we, as a nation, spend our time and energy helping those who lost loved ones grieve and heal? I think it'd be a better use of time.

Such Sadness

Earlier today, an Army psychiatrist went on a shooting rampage and killed 12 people at Fort Hood in Texas, wounding at least 30 others in his crossfire. Then, a few minutes ago, I received a message telling me that one of my former students committed suicide earlier today.

All I can ask, in the case of both of these incidents, is why? Why? Why did this soldier find it necessary to kill so many innocent people? Why did this young woman decide to take her own life? Why? I just can't understand any of this. I always struggle with the senselessness of murder and suicide, but in these two cases, I'm struggling more than in times before.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that mental illness was at play in both cases. It's not a big secret that I fight slight depression and that several people close to me also fight mental illness, including depression and bipolar disorder. Knowing what I know about these diseases (and, yes, they are diseases, just like any other illness), I still find it hard to comprehend how things could be so hopeless in your life -- so hopeless that you're driven to kill others, or just as sadly, yourself.

I'm really bothered by these senseless deaths tonight. My heart is sad and I wish that I could help make things better for people, but I just don't know how.

I sometimes wonder if things like this could be prevented if some of the stigma surrounding mental illness were removed. We don't judge people who have pneumonia, so why do we judge those who are mentally ill?

I want to see the day when we, as a society, quit associating mental illness with something horrific, contagious, and denigrating, and instead, much like we do with phsycial illnesses, we recognize mental illness and encourage treatment. Perhaps then things like this will no longer happen and there won't have to be so many sad hearts in the world.

Sexy...Car Parts?

One evening earlier this week, I was heading up to Edmond for the night after work. I'd heard there were some accidents slowing traffic on the interstates, so I decided to take a different route. I'd never before taken Sooner Road all of the way north and connected with I-35, but I decided to try that route, figuring I might see some interesting things along the way. Boy, was I right!

I drove north to NE 24th Street, up Midwest Boulevard, and then took NE 24th west to Sooner Road. I knew that I'd drive through some relatively hoodish areas, but didn't worry about it because it wasn't yet dark. I just thought of it as an adventure!

As I was driving west, just ahead of me, I saw a purple and white striped metal building. I was a little puzzled because the area seemed pretty industrialized and I wasn't sure what the building might be. I drew closer and, as soon as I saw the building's sign, I about wrecked my car because I was laughing so hard. There, right in the middle of the hood, stood the battered purple and white building housing...wait for it...Fantasy Muffler! Hmmmm...car parts...every woman's fantasy! All I can do is wonder what's next -- Erotic Exhaust?

Tess, the Trash-Eating Dog

I've had Tess, my little mixed terrier dog, for nearly nine years. If you've met her, you know that she's a pretty well behaved little dog and, while she sometimes might be a bit sassy, she rarely does some of the evil things that I hear about other dogs doing. Sure, she's done the rare rotten thing, like getting in the trash, but we've never really had a problem...until last week.

Early last week, as best as I can guess, Tess was mad at me about something and decided to retaliate by getting into the bathroom trash. She didn't just drag trash throughout the house, but instead decided to eat a lot of things that no animal should ever eat.

I was a little pissed, especially when I realized she'd vomited on my area rug, but didn't really worry, until I came home Friday and found that, over the past day and a half, she'd vomited at least 12 times. So, I called the vet and made a flying trip out to El Reno. They hospitalized her for some tests and soon determined that she needed emergency surgery to clear an intestinal obstruction.

Luckily, she came through the surgery with flying colors and, in fact, didn't even have to have her intestines or her stomach cut -- they were able to manually work the blockage out the back end. She was hospitalized until Monday evening, at which point I finally was able to bring her home. Now, nearly a week later, she's faring relatively well and, while still very obviously sore, wants to play and be her normal self. I'm so happy and thankful!

I can't even begin to explain the emotions I experienced when I learned she needed surgery. I was terrified and felt horribly guilty. Luckily, everything turned out just fine.

So, what's the lesson in all of this? Even if your dog has only gotten into the trash a time or two in his or her life, make sure that the trash is inaccessible to ALL pets. Tess never has been the type to pull stunts like this and I seriously doubt that she will repeat this performance, but I've moved my trash and removed any temptation from her little paws. I'm not taking any chances, because, had I not kept an eye on her and taken her to the vet when I did, I could have, very easily, lost my little dog.

Ahhhhh! Fear the Demonic Candy!!

So apparently the Christian Broadcasting Network has decided that Halloween is a purely evil holiday. This isn't a particularly new belief for them, but their newest reason? Because witches pray over ALL Halloween candy, making it demonic!

So, now can you not only not go trick-or-treating because of the sheer terror associated with people who might be dressed as a witch or the devil, but you now also cannot purchase Halloween candy from the store because the demons don't know the difference!

Run for your lives! The Halloween candy is out to get you! It's sooo scary! Of course I have ALWAYS believed Halloween candy is scary -- but only because of the extra pounds that it tends to cause.

Don't believe me? Read the story here.

I'm a Believer

I'm a strong-minded, strong-willed (okay, stubborn), opinionated woman. I have a pretty strong belief system and think that my beliefs are right. I think that it's important for a person to have a strong belief system and that it's even more important for that person to stand up for his or her beliefs. However, I also think that standing firm in your beliefs does not have to mean that you belittle others if they believe differently than you.

Most people know that I'm extremely liberal: I believe in a woman's right to choose, do not believe in the death penalty, believe that gay marriage should be legalized, believe that our healthcare system needs some work, I believe in freedom of religion, and believe that immigrants have previously and can continue to make immense benefits on our country, among many other things.

Now, do I think that I'm right in my beliefs? Absolutely. To that end, I want others to believe the same way that I do, but I also know that it's not always going to happen. I enjoy a spirited debate about nearly any of these beliefs, so long as both sides can remain civil. But, as much as I believe that I'm right and want others to share in my belief system, I'm not going to stoop to making fun of people who believe differently than me and I'm not going to belittle someone because he or she may think that the death penalty is a great deterrent to potential criminals.

Yes, I may disagree with people on some things and it may frustrate me to no end (sometimes making me want to bash my head against a wall because I think that common sense is not prevailing), but I also love the fact that people can agree to disagree. In fact, several of my absolute closest friends and I have to agree to disagree on a variety of things. And that, my friends, is what makes life so spicy and great.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up!

I'm very fortunate to have grown up in a family that loves to celebrate holidays...all holidays! When I was a kid, there was Irish Soda Bread and a ceramic leprachaun sitting on the table for St. Patrick's Day, balloons and flowers for Valentine's Day, flags flying high for Flag Day, cracking and sparkling fireworks for Independence Day, and tons of ghosts, ghouls, pumpkins, and more for Halloween. So, as an adult, even though I have no children yet, I'm proud to carry on my family's holiday traditions.

I'm sure that there are many who would call me foolish, or even childish, for loving holidays so much, but, well, it doesn't really matter to me. I love to celebrate and will happily celebrate pretty much anything. The first night Jason got the Mustang started? I wanted to celebrate. The first time I successfully finished a major project at work? I celebrated. It doesn't really matter -- I just want to have a good time. My theory is that life can suck enough, so I want to find ways to make it fun and happy.

So, what's my favorite holiday? Well, it's probably a three-way tie between Christmas, Independence Day, and HALLOWEEN! I simply love Halloween! I usually have a big party, but this year, due to several factors, I decided not to have one, which makes me incredibly sad. I'm still celebrating, though -- I plan to carve pumpkins and am watching the best Halloween movie ever, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown", as I type this blog.

I suppose that I should grow up and quit celebrating every single holiday, but, quite honestly, I don't wanna grow up! My mom still celebrates holidays and, while she's got two grandsons with whom she can enjoy the season, I'm relatively sure that she'd still celebrate, even without them. So, if she doesn't have to quit, then neither do I! And if you want to celebrate with me, just let me know. After all, the more the merrier!

Common (Lack of) Sense

Sometimes, I swear that people just flat don't think in life. My proof? Two scenarios that I experienced today:

Last night, I got my hair cut...and I mean *really* cut. I wasn't planning on it being this short, but on the parts that are now the longest, my stylist cut off approximately eight inches, so it's pretty obvious that I got my hair cut. Well, this morning, I ran into someone that I typically see about five days a week. Her first comment to me? "Hey, Meg -- did you get your hair cut? It looks cute." I smiled, nodded, and told her that, indeed, I had gotten it cut last night, when I really wanted to say, "Really? Did I get my hair cut? Nope. It decided that it wanted to vacation somewhere warmer, so eight inches jumped off and ran away last night."

Mean of me? Kind of. I was nice to her, though, and she truly is a sweet person. It just kind of threw me for a loop.

Fast forward to this evening. I needed to get a few groceries, so ran up to Crest after stopping at the post office. To help the environment, I typically use the reusable shopping bags, but I didn't have mine with me because it was a spur of the moment trip. So, since I always can use more, I decided to buy another one. After the sacker bagged my groceries, he looked at the green bag, which was the first thing down the belt, and said, "Oh, did you want your groceries in this bag?" I smiled and told him that, yes, I did, when I really wanted to say, "Nope. Just thought it'd make an awesome new purse!" So, the kicker? He took the five things he'd already put in the paper bag and put them into the green bag -- paper bag and all. Boy, that really helped conserve our resources!

Thought for the Day

Sometimes, when you're making fun of something that you know virtually nothing about, you're better off just to keep your mouth shut.

Just What I Needed

Today wasn't the best day. I woke up this morning, after spending most of the night tossing, turning, and unable to sleep, to gray skies and a crabby dog. I slugged my way through my morning routine and got to work nearly on time, which was a plus, but my morning still wasn't anything spectacular.

As the day wore on, some of the major stressors that I'm dealing with right now decided to show their ugly heads. Early this afternoon I learned that Poppy (Yes, Sean, I call my grandpa Poppy; to borrow a phrase from you, if you don't like it, suck it!) was being transferred to a nursing home. It's very far from an ideal situation, but since he's remaining in Fredonia, my mom, aunt, and sister can check on him frequently. He's not doing at all well; at this point, it's still pretty much a waiting game.

This evening, as I was leaving work, my mood was about as gloomy as the sky. I was unlocking my car and heard my text message alert beep, so I pulled out my phone. One of my best friends, Misty, sent me a text that made me smile and made my day turn out to be a little brighter.

When I was first out of college and was offered my first professional job, I moved to a relatively small town in western Kansas, where I served as the public relations director for a community college. I soon learned that my job entailed *SO* much more than just PR, and while it wore on me at times, I loved it. I had lots of one-on-one interaction with students, and periodically, there was one who would worm his or her way into your everyday life. For me, it was usually the kids who were nice, but also had ornery streaks.

There was one student, in particular, who managed to work his way into all of our lives my first year there: Tex. He was continually doing things he shouldn't be doing and getting himself into trouble, but there was just something about him that made it nearly impossible for you to be angry at him. We pulled him out of numerous messes, but all worried that he would eventually end up in more trouble than we could repair. He left after one semester and, to the best of my knowledge, none of us heard from him again -- until today.

Misty texted me to say that he stopped to see her on his way out to Colorado and told her that he's now married to an amazing woman (a teacher!), has two children, owns and operates a successful welding business, and owns a good chunk of land oustide of Wichita. Wow!

It's awesome to know that, despite my concern, Tex managed to become successful in life. And what's even more awesome is to know that, in maybe a tiny party, his success can be attributed to some of the things that we all attempted to teach him.

An Abomination

This evening, as I was reading the news, I saw a headline that literally made me stop dead in my tracks: "Louisiana Judge Denies Marriage License to Interracial Couple." I was *positive* that I had misread the headline, so clicked on it to read the article. Sickeningly, I was not mistaken.

I cannot believe that, today, in 2009, a judge honestly had the temerity to deny a marriage license to an interracial couple! His reasons totally blew my mind: first, he believes that interracial couples have a higher incidence of divorce, and second, "the children will suffer."

Excuse me...WHAT?!?!

Did this man truly just deny this couple a marriage license? When did it become appropriate for a judge to decide who should or should not be married? Just because he's a bigoted, racist, (and I'm guessing here, but a year's salary says I'm right) right wing Republican freak, does NOT give him the right to make this decision! You may not agree with interracial marriages (although I'm not sure why people would disagree), but it is NOT up to you, as a judge, to make the decision to deny a couple a marriage license.

Thankfully, the Louisiana ACLU already is all over the case and is investigating. I'm relatively sure that this judge will essentially be forced from office, which is more than appropriate.

Personally, his claims and his actions make me want to force him to be submitted to a DNA test that will show his entire background and lineage, much like they can do for dogs to determine their ancestry. If his bloodlines include anything, other than one particular race, then I believe that, not only should he be forced from office, but that he also should be forced to divorce his wife, as it then would be deemed an interracial marriage.

Things like this incense me to an extreme degree. Truly, I believe that there is only one race: mankind. We are all so much more than the color of our skin, the shade of our hair, the hue of our eyes. There is no reason that we still continue to judge one another based on anything, other than who and what we are inside.

If you want to read more about this sickening idiot, click here to go to a news site that has an article.

Lending a Helping Hand

I had an encounter with someone this afternoon that proved to be less than stellar.

To be honest, I don't want to go into a ton of details, but I had to humble myself to ask someone for assistance -- I needed to borrow an air bubble to attempt to air up a half-flat tire on my car (I was on my way to go buy new tires). So, I asked someone who I thought had access to one. To make it clear, I did NOT ask this person to help me with my tire, rather, just asked if I could borrow an air bubble. Well, muttering under his breath, he reluctantly retrieved an air bubble and assisted me in airing up my tire.

As soon as he was finished, I thanked him for his time and assistance, because, to be honest, I truly appreciated the help -- and it helped me out of a major bind. I didn't expect him to actually air up my tire, but rather, had just wanted to borrow the air bubble and was extremely pleased when he actually helped me. Instead of telling me that I was welcome, however, when he was done, he began muttering under his breath about idiot drivers who don't take care of their cars.

To his credit, I *did* need new tires and have known this for a while, but had been putting the purchase off for a bit longer. So, yes, I suppose that you could say I was acting like an idiot driver by not replacing my tires sooner, but still, was it necessary to point out that fact? I felt appropriately chastised and promptly drove off to Hibdon, where, nearly $250 later, I became the proud owner of two brand new tires.

An Oddly Comforting Thought

Early this morning, I received a message from my mom, telling me that Grandpa Abe is back in the hospital with a serious brain bleed. Sadly, things look pretty grim at this point. I was, for the most part, not freaking out too much over the knowledge that things are this way, but I had a mini breakdown at work. One of my co-workers saw me and asked me what was wrong. I explained and she offered a platitude that, at the outset, seemed a little odd, but yet was very comforting.

As I explained to her, Poppy will turn 90 years old on Monday of next week. He's lived an amazing life and has seen so many things, both good and bad, happen throughout the course of his life. His life has been filled with love and happiness and, until the past couple of years, he hasn't dealt with much in the way of health problems.

That being said, we were discussing suffering and pain. And, as crass as it may sound, I told her that, if and when it's his time to go, then I'm ready for him to go. I don't want to see him suffer and I don't want to see him waste away to nothing. She didn't think that odd at all and, in fact, reassured me that she would feel the same way.

As she was leaving my office, she said to me, "Well, Meg, I'd tell you that I hope that your grandpa is alright, but if things are bad for him, I don't know that that's what I want. Instead, I'm going to just tell you that I hope that you're alright." She went on to tell me that she'll do anything within her power to help me, when the time comes, and offered a shoulder for crying, should I need it.

The day wore on and I thought more and more about what she said to me. You know, there are people who would think her wrong, but I don't -- not at all. I understand that she's wishing the very best, whatever that outcome may be, for my family.

When the day inevitably comes, my heart will break. I know that I've said it many times before and I'll say it again: I love my Poppy with all of my heart and I'll miss him more than the mind can possibly fathom. He's always been there for me and no one, no matter how hard he or she may try, will ever take his place.

Two Wrongs....

Eighteen years ago, my Grandma Dorothy was killed in a tragic car wreck. She was hit head-on by a tractor trailer that crossed the center line and was driving in her lane. At the time, the driver of the semi was not drug tested, which was an oversight, but evidence seemed to indicate that he was neither high nor drunk. (I'm not going to delve into my belief that any party involved in a fatal car accident should undergo mandatory drug testing here, though.) The punishment meted out by the law? A relatively inconsequential ticket for driving left of center.

For the past 18 years, I've frequently questioned whether or not his punishment was stringent enough because, after all, he took the life of one of the world's most beloved women. It's taken me a long time, but I've finally realized something: his punishment wasn't the traffic ticket he received, but rather the fact that, for the rest of his life, he'll have to live with the knowledge that his inattentiveness killed a sweet woman.

So, how did I come to this conclusion all of these years later? Well, earlier this summer, there was a horrendous accident on the Will Rogers Turnpike in northeast Oklahoma, in which a semi driver's inattentiveness killed ten people. After much testing and research, the media has reported that the accident was solely the fault of the truck driver, and, today, he was charged with ten counts of negligent homicide. I've spent the past couple of months thinking about and reflecting upon this situation and comparing it to my grandmother's accident.

This truck driver is an older gentleman. He very obviously made a horrible mistake that resulted in tragic consequences. But is it necessary to charge him with such a crime? Just like the driver who caused my grandma to die, I truly doubt that this man woke up one morning and decided to intentionally kill these people. I would imagine that it truly was an accident; what I cannot imagine is the amount of grief and guilt that this man must carry with him each day.

Sadly, no legal charge will bring back the lives that have been lost in these two accidents. And while I don't know any of the individuals involved in this situation, I can say that, at least in my grandma's case, the mental anguish that the truck driver has to suffer is more than punishment enough for him.

(Note: in cases where people are drunk or high or doing something completely stupid, like running from the police, and cause accidents, I fully believe that they should be prosecuted to the highest limits of the law.)

A Gentleman and a Jerk

All day, every time I've turned on the news or browsed the Web, I've had stories, videos, and image's of Kanye West's little uncalled for temper trantrum that he threw last night at the VMAs, thrown at me. I've never been too big of a Kanye fan, and definitely am not now. His little childish display was, I believe, solely to garner more publicity for himself. Quite frankly, I don't care if I ever hear another of his songs and want nothing more than to see him fade into oblivion.

Conversely, I just flipped over to a news Web site and saw the news that Patrick Swayze succumbed to pancreatic cancer this evening. He was such a huge part of my childhood -- even today, I still can recite practically the entire script of Dirty Dancing. As a child, I was more interested in the fact that I thought he was "cute", and not in the fact that he truly was, by all accounts, one of the good guys. You never hear anything bad about Patrick Swayze -- he appears to have been a truly, genuinely good guy.

So, here's what I would like to see happen: let's get Kanye West out of and off of the news -- FOREVER. Let's let him just disappear and no longer get the attention that he so desperately wants. Instead, let's focus on some of the good guys -- guys like Patrick Swayze -- or girls like Taylor Swift. Let's focus on the decency in humanity, not the jackasses.

Carefree Summer Days

As a child, I loved summers -- the endless days filled with art classes at the Stone House, swimming lessons (which I truly hated), homemade popsicles, the scent of chlorine as we spent hours at the pool -- I truly believed that summers were magic. As an adult, the magic of summers hasn't really resonated within me -- until last July.

Last summer, Jason asked me to spend a week and a half with him at Grand Lake. I initially hesitated because I HATE camping, but I soon said yes because I knew it was something he really enjoyed and I figured it was a good way to spend some time with my favorite guy. Well, I soon figured out that he wasn't meaning camping. Instead, he was meaning long, amazing days spent at an awesome house on the lake (complete with air conditioning, wifi, and nearly anything else a girl could want), playing on the boat and waverunners, and spending sultry nights swaying on the dock. The time I spent at Grand with Jason and several of our friends was relaxing, rejuvenating, and, in a word, amazing. And I was lucky enough to go back this summer.

Spending time at Grand has again made me love the days of summer. In life, it seems like we all have to put up with so much stress, and, honestly, just plain crap nearly every day, that it only seems fair that summers can still be magical.

I got home from my Grand this evening, having spent four days there to celebrate the long Labor Day weekend. I'm sunburned and exhausted and am not really looking forward to returning to the daily grind again tomorrow, but I'm so relaxed and content. Sure, I'm a little sad because it's September, which means the end of the summer, but I'm still very happy and eternally grateful to Jason for giving me back something that I didn't even realize I was missing -- the joy of a completely carefree summer weekend.

Dear Geico...

Dear Geico:

If you want me to open the letter you sent to entice me to purchase your insurance, you probably should spell my name correctly. I might still have opened it, had you just misspelled either my first or my last name. But to misspell both? It's not like I have a particularly complicated name!

Oh -- and you probably should spell my street name right, too.

Thanks, but I think I'll stick with State Farm. They have great customer service AND spell my name right.

Sincerely,

NOT Meaghan Canon

WILD Two Days!

The past two days have been nothing but a blur.

I received a call Tuesday afternoon, telling me that Poppy'd had a stroke. I was told he seemed okay and that I could put off a trip back to Kansas until the weekend. Well, about 9:30 pm Tuesday night, my phone rang again -- and I was told, in no uncertain terms, to get to Kansas immediately. I threw some random clothes in the car, grabbed the dog, held my emotions, and left. I finally arrived in Fredonia around 2:30 am, went straight to the hospital, and was greeted with a very sad scenario. Grandpa wasn't doing well and we weren't sure he'd make it through the night. Finally, around 5 am, Mom and I headed home for a quick nap, before returning to the hospital.

Alas, a nap was not to happen. After less than 90 minutes of sleep, the house phone rang. I heard Mom calming someone and saying that we were on our way. I assumed the worst about Grandpa -- and quickly learned that it was my sister -- calling to say that her water had broken -- two weeks early.

We brushed our teeth and threw on clothes and headed to get her for the drive to Chanute. After getting Jill and Adrian in the car, we headed for the hospital (of course not the one where Grandpa is a patient), with me timing contractions and Mom driving with the pedal to the metal. We got there, got her admitted, and she was on her way.

Well, less than two hours later, I was in her room talking with her when the baby's heartrate suddenly plummeted and refused to rebound. The medical team was in immediately and she was rushed off for an emergency c-section. Within less than seven minutes, my new nephew arrived. He had some breathing issues at first, but I'm proud to say that Harrison Monroe Doane is now happy and healthy and absolutely beautiful.

Mom and I came home for a nap this afternoon, which again, never materialized. We went to see Grandpa and then went back to Chanute to retrieve Adrian. On our way home, Mom's cell rang and it was my aunt, telling us that Mom's driveway was full of cops and firetrucks. Apparently, in a way unknown to any of us, power lines from the neighborhood had fallen on Mom's house, in her yard, and across my car -- with her yard on fire. We rushed home to find the house still standing, the electricity actually back on, the yard a little scorched, and...the passenger side of my car lined with scorch/singe marks. All along the top and passenger side, paint has been burned off, all the way down to the steel.

So, before heading home tomorrow, I'll be working with the City to find the cause of the issue and discuss with them how they'll be covering the cost of repairing my car damage, along with any damage done to Mom's house (we can't see any of it yet because it was dark when we got home).

And then, after all visiting with them, seeing my Grandpa, and visiting my new nephew, I'll be heading back towards home, driving through Wichita so that I can stop to meet Isaac Wayne Stout, my best friend's new baby son who also was born today. I can hardly wait!

But, first, sleep...

Generosity

As a child, my mom always drove home the importance of sharing with others, no matter how little you have, and being kind and generous. She also frequently reminded me that, no matter how bad things seem for me, there's always someone who is in a worse position -- and that's part of the reason that it's so important to share.

As an adult, I like to see myself as a giving and mostly selfless person, but I know that's not always the case. Too often, I get tangled up in what's fair and unfair and focus on myself, instead of others.

Today, I learned an incredibly valuable lesson in generosity and kindness and it's reminded me that I need to remember these two values myself.

Without going into too much detail, a friend decided that another friend and I were being wronged. He took it upon himself to try to right this wrong, even though it was not his place to do so and it was going to end up being less beneficial for him in the end. His reasoning? "Well, what's happening to you isn't fair, and while life is never fair, I can do my part to try to make things a little better for both of you." It brought tears to my eyes and when I asked him why he felt it was his place to try to make us feel better, especially when it was going to be less beneficial for him in the end, he simply told me that it was the right thing to do.

I was, and several hours later still am, humbled by his generosity. Of course, I turned down his offer becuase he deserves everything for himself and he and his fiancee can really use the benefit, but the offer was so very kind. Score one more for teaching me an incredible lesson and, once again, making me have faith in humankind!

Slowing Down

I'm getting ready to go to a funeral for a woman who was very much loved. Sadly, I didn't have the time to get to know her as well as I would have liked before her time ended, but she was a very kind woman.

This morning, as I sit here pondering life before leaving for Mustang for the service, I've been thinking about life. We often say it, but then we forget it when we get wrapped up in the everyday drudgery -- life is too short to not enjoy each and every single moment.

Instead of being annoyed by delayed planes and airport layovers, I need to sit back and take advantage of that down time -- time during which I could read, people watch, talk to a friend, blog, or do any other number of things. Sure, I'd rather be at home, but airports can be relaxing. Instead of being irritated about being stuck in traffic, I need to roll down the windows, open the sunroof, turn up the radio, and sing like a rockstar, enjoying the moment to relax.

There is so much that's beautiful in this life. It's too short to be angry. It's too short to hold grudges. It's too short to take things for granted. And, perhaps most of all, it's too short to not tell the people we love that we love them.

I'm going to try to be a better person. I'm going to try to relax more and worry less...to enjoy more and hurry less...to give more and take less. To forgive more...to experience more...to be more thankful. And, above all, to love more.

Idiots? Underpaid? Or Just Don't Care?

While I'm by no means a world traveler, I have flown quite a bit in the US -- mostly for work, but for some pleasure, too. If possible, I've tried to fly without checking my luggage, but with all of the new TSA rules (thanks, idiot terrorists), it's nearly impossible to carry on everything you need for more than a day or two. So, I typically end up checking my bag(s). After my most recent trip (last week to Vegas), I've reached a conclusion: I will never again spend good money on nice luggage -- from now on, I'll buy the cheap crap and call it good.

Back in May, as I was preparing to leave for Aspen for a week, I realized that I needed a bigger suitcase. I spent some time shopping around and, after quite a bit of searching, found a very nice suitcase at Tuesday Morning. I paid nearly $100 for it, but with all thngs at Tuesday Morning, it retailed for significantly more -- I think it was somewhere around $300 -- for just one bag. My thought was that it was a good quality bag that would last me for a while. Well, the airlines have taught me differently.

After a trip to Aspen and a trip to Vegas, my bag looks like it's been around the world six times. During the first trip, the airlines managed to get quite a bit of grease all over the front. After my most recent trip, I found more grease and a huge snag on the back, and this evening, discovered that the zipper pulls have been ripped off of the big front pocket. I didn't realize this, of course, until I'd been home for two days -- which is about 44 hours too long to make a claim. I'm SO angry!

I guess that I should be thankful that it wasn't searched (not because I was hiding anything, but because I don't really like the idea of people rifling though my lingerie), it wasn't completely ruined, and it wasn't lost. It still irritates me, though. While sitting on the plane in Las Vegas and again in Denver, I watched our bags being loaded. Conversely, I watched them being unloaded while we were stuck on the tarmac in OKC. What I noticed is that the luggage handlers are either idiots, are underpaid, or just flat don't give a damn about doing a decent job.

Perhaps the airlines (and yes, it was two different airlines who beat the crap out of my suitcase) should spend a little more money on salaries for these handlers, offer them more training, or weed out the idiots. I can essentially guarantee that the money they spend working to resolve the issues on the end of the handlers will more than pay for itself with the money that they have to shell out for lost and/or damaged luggage. And, it would make customers a whole lot happier.

For the record, when I discovered the ruined zippers this evening, I checked Southwest's policy -- to make a claim, I needed to do so, in person, within four hours of my flight's arrival. I'm still going to attempt to make a claim, but I doubt that I'll get far. I do know this -- I will NEVER AGAIN leave the airport without throughly examining my luggage.

An Epiphany

I try my best to be a good person and a good friend. While I'm the first to admit that I'm not always perfect, I do my best to remember things and dates that are important to those I love and try to make a point to see my friends if I'm near their homes, especially if I haven't seen them in a long time.

Even though I've got the best of intention, I do sometimes forget these things because of everyday life. I don't mean to and know that it's simple for things to slip my mind when I'm busy -- everyone has a lot of things on their minds. Why, then, does it upset me and make me feel less-than-loved and less-than-important when people I love either essentially forget my birthday or can't be bothered to call me when they're vacationing less than five miles from my house? After some serious thought, I've come to the conclusion has to do with the fact that my father, who no longer really plays a role in my life, did these things to me frequently when we still talked -- he would be just miles from my house, but wouldn't come see me, and nearly every summer, he forgot my birthday -- no present, no card, and usually, not even a phone call. Every time, it hurt me and made me feel like I didn't matter...at all. And, even though I fight feeling the same way when someone I love accidentally does the same thing to me, it still tends to creep up and rear its ugly head.

It makes me feel so incredibly immature to have these feelings. I'm an adult. My birthday is just another day and I don't need presents or a big celebration. Vacations are a time for resting and relaxing and I'm not so important that I need to be included.

Okay...enough brooding and feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to go take a nap because I think some sleep will really help me. I was in Vegas part of last week and most of this week for work and I got very little sleep. Since coming home, I'm still been, oddly, too keyed up to sleep well. A nap should help me shake these stupid feelints and get on with my life.

31 Things to Love at 31

So, I hijacked this idea from my friend Tree's blog. She recently posted 31 things that she loves at 31 and I decided to do the same thing. I wanted to post it actually ON my birthday earlier this week, but things were hectic because I was in Las Vegas for work. So, even though it's a few days late, without further ado, here's my list:

Disc Golf – especially playing with Jason

The Beatles

Going to the lake

Baking and cooking – especially for other people

Tess and Tanner

Friends

Family

My guy

Shaken black iced tea from Starbucks

Afternoon naps

Good surprises

Lazy Sundays

Hugs

Downy Wrinkle Releaser

Fit-Flops

Pedicures

Purses

The smell of rain

Gummi Bears (even though I rarely, if ever, eat them anymore)

Japanese Steak Houses – especially Sumo in Edmond

IMing

July 4th (and, yes, my birthday the next day)

Baths

Clean sheets

Post-it Notes

The peacefulness found only in early mornings

Bio-Freeze

My awesome pink and black sunglasses

Seeing rainbows

Getting cards in the mail

Celebrating anything with my friends

One Lucky Woman

In the past three months, I've broken both my tailbone and my nose. My car has recently broken down. My former landlord has essentially refused to refund my security deposit. I've had a misunderstanding with a friend. Both my nephew and my grandpa have been hospitalized in serious condition and my cousin was killed in a tragic accident. Someone recently told me that if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. It may seem like that on the outside, but I've gotta say -- I disagree. I believe that I'm one lucky woman.

Why do I think I'm so lucky?

I have a mother who loves me unconditionally. My grandfather, one of the most important people in my life, still is alive and seems to be doing better. My nephew, even at 10 years old, an age when most boys start to think that aunts are dumb, still thinks I hung the moon. I have a boyfriend who is, in a word, amazing -- he's always there for me and believes in me. I've got the best friends in the world -- from those who have been around since elementary school, high school, and college, to those who I've just met in the past few years, or even months, I have wonderful friends. I also have one of the coolest dogs on the planet. These are the important things -- the things that make me lucky -- my loved ones.

I've got a cozy home. Sure, I don't own it and it's currently very disorganized and still in boxes, but it's mine. I have a car in the driveway (now, granted, it's not running at this very moment, but still) and a good job. I have clothes, shoes, and food to put in my belly.

So, yes, I'm a very lucky woman. I've got life and I've got love. To me, that's all it takes.

The Journey of 100 Steps

As of Thursday, I have embarked on a new journey in life. It's one I've tried before, and one where I've been semi-successful, but this time, I plan to make the journey, succeed in my journey, and maintain my destination. So, what's my journey? I'm going to lose 100 pounds. That's right. One hundred pounds.

Two years ago, I made, what I believed to be, a lifestyle change. I lost about 70 pounds and was feeling pretty good about myself, even though I still had more to lose. Well, as always, life intervened, I strayed from my diet and quit caring, and now, I've now gained back a good amount of that weight.

As of Thursday, I've set a new goal -- 100 pounds in one year. That's a lot of weight, but it's weight that I need to lose. Ultimately, I'd like to lose it within the next ten months -- ten pounds a months -- but I know that I have to be cautious and realisic.

So, how am I going to do it? By eating healthily (but neither starving nor depriving myself) and exercising. I'm giving myself a couple of weeks to get started with the diet (mostly because I'm getting ready to leave for a week again) and then will kick the exercising into gear. I'm looking into taking some martial arts lessons. If the weather will cooperate, I'm thinking about starting to run again. I'm going to continue to play disc golf. I'm just going to try to be more active.

Is this going to be easy? Absolutely not. I've got to remember that I can take the weight off the same way that I put it on -- one pound at a time. They say that a journey begins with a single step, so let the journey begin!

I Believe In...

There's an old song named I Believe in You by an artist named Don Williams. I heard this song periodically as I was growing up, but this past Christmas, I rediscovered it when I hopped in my mom's car and it was playing...on a CD. As a child, I liked the beat and the music; as an adult, not only do I like the beat, the music, and his voice, but I also LOVE the lyrics.

The song has a pretty simple premise -- the writer (I *believe* it was Don Williams himself, but am not totally sure) discusses things he believes in...ending in with, "I believe in you." He also talks about things the things he either no longer believes in or never did believe.

Part of the reason that I like this song is that it makes me think long and hard about what *I* believe in...and about what I don't believe. The other reason I like it is because, while it's a song from the 70s (?), it is very applicable today. Lyrics like "I don't believe...that black is black and white is white...that gasoline's in short supply...the rising cost of getting by..." were written during a time when these were issues facing society. In a way, I think it's pretty sad that, some 20 years later, we're still facing these issues -- and that people haven't changed much.

Wow...this post has taken a different direction than I was planning. I was going to discuss the things in which I believe. I guess I'll save that for another time. For now, I'm going to listen to a little Don Williams while finishing my laundry and head to bed shortly.

Help Buddy Find a Home!

I received an email this morning from a friend. She has a friend who found a stray male Beagle mix several weeks ago. She's apparently been looking for his home this entire time, but has been unable to find his parents. So, she's on a mission to find him a new home (apparently her dogs don't really care for him).

His name is Buddy and he's the adorable puppy dog in the photos below. He's approximately three years old, has been neutered, is up-to-date on his shots, and is described as mellow, friendly, and extremely loving. He's house trained, and prefers to spend his days outside, but wants to sleep beside your bed at night.

If you're a good person and can give Buddy a home, please let me know. I'll put you in touch with his temporary mother. Please help Buddy find a forever home!

Leave Them Alone!

For the past couple of years, basically since the beginning, I've loosely followed the TLC show Jon and Kate Plus 8. At first, it was due to a strange fascination with the family, but it slowly morphed into a slight habit.

Essentially, I've always wondered if I'd actually like Jon and Kate in real life, and sadly, although I think they love their children, I don't think they'd be my favorite people. She seems overwhelmingly controlling and he seems to be underwhelmingly able to think for himself. That's really neither here nor there, though, for the purpose of this post.

Since the beginning of the year, Jon and Kate's relationship problems have been broadcast for the world to see. Sure, some would say that they brought this on themselves, what with their show and all, but I don't really agree. I truly doubt that, when they signed a contract, they planned to have marital issues and have them shown to everyone.

For the most part, I've just listened to the edge of the publicity...until today. Apparently, as of today, in addition to being investigated for possible violations of child labor laws, they now are being investigated on charges of animal abuse -- because of a comment that one of them made about their children roughhousing with their dogs.

I am sorry. This is just RIDICULOUS! Leave these poor people alone! Let them work out their marital problems alone. And, Jon and Kate? Put your show on hiatus. Work on your life. Get out of the spotlight. I have a hunch that you'll be glad you did.

Passing Up a Good Deal

This evening, after running several errands, I decided that I wanted a sugar-free sno cone to soothe my irritated throat. After finding all three sno cone places closed for some reason, I got frustrated and headed home.

I was happily driving along (after nearly getting hit by an ambulance who decided to flip on their lights and sirens and flip a u-turn in the middle of the street) when I approached a massive line of traffic. I wasn't sure why there was a traffic jam in Midwest City -- I mean, really, this isn't exactly the most happening place in the world.

Suddenly, it hit me...Sonic is giving away free root beer floats tonight. There was a line of traffic approximately three blocks long (to the north), waiting to turn in to Sonic. I bypassed it, shaking my head, and was nearly hit by a car that was determined that I wasn't going to beat them in the driveway. Trust me...there was no way in hell I was entering that fray! Incidentally, the line stretched about two and a half blocks to the south, too.

Everyone knows that I'm a sucker for a good deal. Seriously, I'm the one who can ferret out a Dillard's sale ($7 leather purses and $23 Born boots, anyone?) at ten paces, and I also love free things, but there's no way I would risk my life going to Sonic tonight for a free small root beer float. I'd rather dig through my couch cushions, find two bucks in change, and buy one when the crazies are not out in full force!

Legal vs. Illegal

Controversial Wichita physician, Dr. George Tiller, was shot to death while serving as an usher at his church yesterday morning. Dr. Tiller was a prominent figure in the medical field for providing women's health services, particularly, abortions.

More details are coming to light on Dr. Tiller's death, including that the suspect is an anti-government, anti-choice, pretty much anti-everything nut job who believes that killing a living, breathing human is justifiable, just because he doesn't like what he did for a living. Thankfully, he's been apprehended and is in custody, awaiting charges.

I'm not going to turn this into a pro-choice/pro-life post, because, here's the deal: abortion currently is legal. Whether it's right for you or wrong for you, if you're ever in a situation that could call for an abortion, only you can decide. Bottom line? It's legal.

The other part of the equation is that murdering a living human is illegal. No matter how you slice it, Dr. Tiller was gunned down and murdered in a place that's supposed to be a place of peace. A haven. Safe. Bottom line here? Murder is illegal.

If you're so completely pro-life because you believe that abortions are murder, then how can you justify murdering someone yourself? It just doesn't make any sense to me.

All I know is that, while I might not agree with everything he did, Dr. Tiller was a husband, father, grandfather, friend, and so much more -- he was more than his profession, as are we all. Today, his family and friends are mourning because of someone who apparently has a skewed sense of right and wrong. And, to me, that's just sad.

A Sad Day...

As I was winding down from the Memorial Day weekend and working on unpacking my house, my phone rang...and I had a really bad feeling. When I answered, my mom told me that my cousin's youngest son, Tanner, had died from an accidental shooting.

As Mom told me, my heart absolutely broke. My poor cousin -- I cannot imagine losing a child at such a young age (he was 12) in such a tragic manner. How do you continue your life? How do you go on?

Tanner was such a sweet boy. He never knew a stranger and his eyes practically sparkled with laughter -- he was just a very cool young man.

I'm currently out of state for work, so I was unable to attend his funeral, which was earlier today. Mom went to his service and called me after. If possible, my heart cracked even more as she told me about the service. I feel so horrible that I wasn't able to be there for my cousin...my family.

Make sure you and your children know and understand gun safety. Tanner did, but still fell victim to a tragic accident. The rule I always learned was that any gun is a loaded gun.

Tonight, hug the ones you love. Pull them a little tighter and tell them that they're loved. I wish I could hug my people, but since I'm still gone, for now, I'll just have to make sure that they know that I love them. And, you can bet, that the hugs will come the minute I'm home.

Even Jerks Can Have a Good Side

Professional golfer John Daly is oftentimes thought of as one of the biggest jerks on the tour. He's got a bad temper and also appears to battle an addiction to alcohol. He's never been one of my favorite golfers and never really impressed me...until now.

Last week, news broke that Phil Mickelson's wife, Amy, has been diagnosed with, and is undergoing treatment for, breast cancer. Let me clarify that I've not always been a fan of Mickelson, either, but do respect him as a golfer. (If you know me, you probably know that I'm a HUGE Tiger Woods fan.)

So what precipitated my change in opinion about Daly? Well, it seems that he wore a pair of bright pink pants in the final round of a tournament this weekend. His reasoning? To support the Michelson family and let them know he's thinking about them.

One could argue that this was done as a publicity stunt to garner more attention. Was it? Maybe so, but then again, maybe not. Either way, I've got to admit that I'm impressed with Daly's pink-colored pants statement, especially as a woman who has lost more than one family member to breast cancer.

So, today, John Daly, I salute you!

Just What I Needed

The past two weeks have been extremely long and trying. I spent last weekend making the move to my new home, which took a physical and mental toll on me. We finally finished moving the last pieces of junk late Wednesday evening/early Thursday morning, by which time I was exhausted beyond all belief. Add to that a nephew in the hospital with a liver injury from a fall and a grandpa in the hospital from continued heart problems and you have one incredibly stressed and unhappy Meg...until last night.

I have unpacked very little in my house yet, thus making it difficult to find anything and impossible to set up my bed, so I've been sleeping on my couch. While my couch is extremely comfortable and I've spent plenty of nights there, it's not the ideal place to get an optimal night's rest.

Last night, I was surprised with a brand new shiny pink disc golf driver by the world's best boyfriend. Last night, I filled my tummy with a fabulous steak dinner. Last night, I slept in a bed for the first time in nearly a week. And while I woke up earlier than I would have preferred due to back spasms, I moved to the recliner and slept for another three hours. It was, in a word, glorious!

Today, after sleeping in and having a totally calm morning, we went to one of my favorite delis (Hobby's Hoagies) and then went and played a round of disc golf. Yes, this was the very first round of disc golf that I've actually completed and, no, I didn't break anything. This evening, I'm sitting here, slightly sun and wind burned, but happy, content, and truly relaxed for the first time in more than two weeks. I'm beyond mellow and just enjoying life!

An Awesome Web site!

I absolutely love the movie "The Bucket List". Since the day I saw that movie, I've sworn that I would make a bucket list of my own, but I just haven't taken the time to start one...until this evening.

My friend Tracy introduced me to the Web site www.43things.com today. It's got to be one of the neatest sites I've seen in a long time! It's a very simple premise: you create a free account and then start creating a list of 43 things that you want to do in your life. They can be major goals or they can be smaller things -- my list contains some of each. I'm not quite to 43 yet, but starting my list has been extremely thought provoking. I'm sure that some of the things on my list will change as time goes by. Some are fun; some are serious.

It's a cool Web site. Check it out!

Graffiti Slurs

While driving home from work earlier this week, I noticed that someone had spray painted a message in a lovely shade of day-glo orange across four of the cement barriers along west bound I-40 at the Broadway interchange. Their message? "Brad Henry Baby Killer".

Now I'm assuming that this is a pro-life message that's aimed at Governor Brad Henry, but I'm a little confused, or perhaps more accurately, somewhat amused. Governor Henry is not exactly your most liberal of democrats. He actually tends to be quite conservative, but I suppose that's neither here nor there.

So why am I confused and amused?

Well, first, unless Governor Henry, or another Brad Henry to whom the painter was referring, has actually murdered a child, then technically, this graffiti is libel.

Second, I'm curious to know about the painter's background. Frequently, radically pro-life individuals come from a stringent religious background and feel that they have a very definitive sense of right and wrong. Since they technically defaced state, or possibly federal, property with this message, then how can this graffiti be considered right? I can't quote a statute, but I'm about 100 percent certain that defacing this property is illegal, so I don't understand how someone could consider this action to be above board and appropriate. I would think that illegal actions would violate their sense of right and wrong.

Finally, and perhaps more than anything, I would like to know how in the hell someone managed to paint such a huge, long message along a major highway WITHOUT being noticed! I'm guessing that it was done at night, but you've got to know that it still took some time to paint. How did no one catch the painter/s? I see OHP troopers along that stretch of road all too frequently, so I'm still in awe that someone managed to paint such a huge message without being caught.

As a side note, I've looked for the message the past couple of days, but traffic has been pretty heavy when I've driven past, so I haven't seen it. I suspect, though, that the real reason that I haven't seen it is because it's been removed/painted over. If that's the case, then I'd like to thank this idiot graffiti artist to wasting some of MY taxes!

Two Totally Different Experiences

In high school, I worked in my local grocery store; during those two years, I learned a lot about customer service. I learned that, no matter how bad your day, you should be pleasant to your customers. That's a policy that I still try to stick to today.

This morning, I left for work well before the crack of dawn (at 5:15 am). My car's gas gauge was happily resting on "E", so I had to get gas before hitting the road. I pulled in to a local gas station that I don't typically frequent, but they were open and their gas was ten cents a gallon cheaper than my normal location. As my car filled, I ran inside to get a Diet Coke, some water, and some beef jerky (you know, the breakfast of champions!). I was in a pretty good mood, despite the early hour, but the clerk was a hateful, hateful woman. I tried to make small talk with her, but all she could do was snarl at me. Let me tell you...I was thankful when she finally finished running my debit card because I couldn't wait to get back to my car.

Forty five minutes later, I'm cruising in to Midwest City and decide that I want some coffee. I pull in to a locally owned coffee shop that I've been to a sum total of four other times. The owner apparently works early mornings and is always happy and pleasant, no matter the weather or the situation. He sees me walking in, greets me by name, and already had started my latte as I approached the counter. I was so impressed and left a few minutes later, warmer, happier, and with a smile on my face.

The difference between these two experiences is incredible. The first store is in the town where I have lived for four years; I've been in plenty of times previously, but this woman still was nasty and hateful. The second shop is in a town where I do not yet live, but the owner already knows me by name and knows my preference for coffee. Wow! I know which one I'll go back to again!

Moral of the story -- avoid the Conoco at the corner of Country Club and Elm in El Reno and FREQUENT The UnderGround at Douglas/SE 15th in MWC! I promise...you'll be glad you did.

What is a True Friend?

It's taken me 30 long years, but I've finally realized the characteristics of a true friend. So, without further ado, here are my thoughts.

True friends...

Even if it's not possible to answer every time you call, a true friend will return your call/email/text message when they have a minute.

A true friend will support you when things are tough, not tell you that you're overreacting or being a wimp.

Real friends follow through on promises and don't make empty ones.

A real friend remembers things important to you -- your birthday, that your grandfather is in the hospital, your mom's name, that your dog is hurt, etc.

A true friend NEVER asks for more than they plan to return.

Real friends don't make lame excuses for no good reason.

You can trust a true friend with the keys to your house and your car.

If you need help with something and a true friend is already obligated and cannot help you, a real friend will do whatever it takes to make it up to you.

True friends will drive more than four hours one way to be there for you when you need something, no matter how trivial.

Real friends don't judge you by the the mistakes you've made (especially if they are the same mistakes that THEY'VE made), but rather, support you through everything.

A real friend is the one beside you when you're at your happiest or most miserable.

I guess it all boils down to this: a real, true friend will not walk out on you, no matter your mood or your situation.

Help for the Puppies!

Eight years ago, the absolute BEST dog in the world came to live with me. Life has led me down a lot of crazy paths since the fateful day that I adopted her, but she's been by my side all of the way -- and I cannot imagine life without her. When I adopted her from the Pratt County Humane Society in Pratt, Kansas, it wasn't a very pretty place, but I can say with great certainty that ALL of the animals there were very well cared for and loved deeply by the manager. They also did, and still do, their damnedest to be a no-kill shelter.

So, what does all of that have to do with anything? Well, the puppies need your help! Shelters all across the United States are competing to see who can earn the most Internet votes. The winner receives a $20,000 grant! Tess' former home is one of the shelters in the competition for this grant.

Here's where I need your help -- GO VOTE! It is FREE and will be extremely valuable to the shelters who receive grants. Click here to cast your vote.

I would love for you to support the Pratt County Humane Society, but if you prefer, vote for a shelter in your area or one with which you are affiliated. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Tess thanks you, and even more importantly, the homeless dogs and cats thank you, too!!!

It's Bittersweet

I've moved a lot of times in the 30 short years I've been on this planet. And while I've moved for myriad reasons, I've learned that moving typically is a bittersweet process for me.

First, I HATE moving. Detest it. Loathe it. Truly believe that, if there is a hell and I go there, mine might very well consist of packing and moving each and every day for eternity. Yet, at the same time, I actually like moving. It offers a fresh start. A clean slate. A chance to clean, purge junk, rearrange, and make new resolutions on organization.

So, why is moving bittersweet? Because, while I do love the clean slate, I know that I'm leaving behind some good memories and knowledge about my house that no one else may know. Sure, the memories will come with me, but sometimes actually being in the place where the memory was created is powerful.

I have so many good memories of my house on Walnut Street in El Reno:

It was my first house in a new state and offered me a totally new start after a bad experience.

Jason and I spent several nights sitting next to the chiminea on my back patio, getting to know each other.

The night I was sitting on my front porch, talking to a friend and watching a thunderstorm, and the tornado sirens suddenly sounded because a tornado had been sighted over the prison. All the while, I'd been clueless about the severity of the weather.

The first friend I made here was my next door neighbor. He moved a couple of years ago, but our friendship has endured. I have good memories of sitting on the patio with him, grilling burgers and drinking wine, and running around the back yard with his kids.

After being here for about a week, it stormed in the night and I woke up to let Tess out, only to be barreled over by my other neighbor's Bloodhound, Amos. Apparently the fence had blown down in the night and Amos, as friendly as could be, wanted to come inside. (Stupidly enough, I was scared of him at the time.)

It was here that I celebrated my first "big" holiday away from my family. Due to several reasons, neither Amanda and Jeremy nor I were able to go to our respective homes for Easter three years ago. Instead, we spent it together at my house, and instead of being sad to be without our families, celebrated the family that we have in each other.

The memories here are great and I'll carry them with me forever. What's really cool, though, is that I'm moving on to a place where I will create even more awesome memories with those who I love. In fact, I've already started building memories there, even though I have yet to officially move!

Keeping and Purging

In preparing to move to my new casa, I've been going through a lot of things and attempting to sort and purge. I have way too much stuff and my style has somewhat changed, so I'm wanting to do some redecorating. I'm having a really hard time deciding what to keep and what to sell, though.

It finally just occurred to me why I'm having so many issues with putting things into the "purge" pile: I have memories tied to nearly every single thing I own. Some of the people I love the most have given me things in my house, which makes them extra special to me. And it's not that I don't still love these people, or the thought behind each and every gift, but it's just that my style has changed some and, as a result, many things no longer really fit with my decor (or, well, how I'm wanting to decorate).

Perfect case in point: since college, I've had a large amount of Americana decor throughout my house. While I still want to keep some of it and much of it will still fit with what I want to do, there are some things that won't work as well. One of these things is a gift that I was given by a former co-worker/friend. I haven't seen her in nearly six years, but every time I look at this particular piece, I think of her and smile. Plus, there's a really great story behind how she gave me this gift -- it's too long to get into here.

Deep down, I know that she would neither care nor be offended that my style has changed, but I still feel like I'm somehow being a crappy friend. I've got to get past this and realize that these things, while no longer my style, will make someone else very happy!

Selfishness

I've come to the conclusion that I'm a very selfish person.

My grandpa, Poppy, is back in the hospital and is not doing well. He's nearly 90 years old, and as naturally occurs with age, his body is wearing out; I'm not going to list his ailments, but suffice to say, he's just not well. He's facing his own mortality and has learned that he might not get to go back home; when he's released from the hospital, his doctor is dictating that he go into assisted living or a nursing home. As one might expect, he's horribly upset and depressed.

He's always been such a vibrant and spunky man. I've always been able to count on seeing his blue eyes twinkle when he's telling a joke and to get a tight hug every time I see him. He's always acted so much younger than his actual age, until the past two years.

I hate this. I hate that someone I love so much is hurting and is so sad and feels so utterly hopeless. I hate it. I hate knowing that he probably won't be around for terribly much longer. I hate knowing...I just hate it.

Why am I selfish? Because I don't want to lose him. I don't want him to hurt or be depressed or be sad. I want to keep him here forever, but I want him to be younger, healthier, and vibrant. I guess what I'm saying is that I want it all. And, heartbreakingly, this is one time when there's no way that I'll get what I want.

It's All Fun and Games...Until Somebody Breaks a Nose

Jason's best friend talked us in to going to play disc golf this afternoon. I've always wanted to play, so I was more than game. Our group included four of us, two of whom have layed extensively and two of whom had never played -- I'm one of the disc golf virgins.

Well, we'd played six holes and I finally was starting to get the hang of things and really enjoy myself...until we were getting ready to leave for the seventh hole. One of our guys had lost a disc in the trees, so he went to retrieve it, deciding to throw it out once h found it. Well, three of us were standing by the hole when the disc came flying out. About the same time I saw a flash of bright orange, it smashed straight into the bridge of my nose.

After about 15 minutes of trying to stem the bleeding, I could fee the cartilidge crunching, so we headed to urgent care. Urgent care refused to see me, instead sending me to the ER. Long story short, I have a broken nose, which is rapidly swelling and bruising.

I'm in a pretty significant amount of pain and am miserable, but the poor guy who threw the disc seems to be equally miserable. He keeps apologizing, but I swear that I don't hold him accountable. I'm not at all mad (well, not at him; the ER, now that's a different story).

I really did have a good time, broken nose nonwithstanding. Once I'm feeling better, I'm excited to play again. Only maybe I need a helmet.

Oklahoma Illegalization of Scientific Research

Well, the Oklahoma legislature is at it again. They somehow managed to pass a bill, through both the house and the senate, that makes it illegal for companies in this state to perform embryonic stem cell research. What's more is that the bill also makes it illegal for any medical procedures that have been discovered as a result of embryonic stem cell research to be performed in Oklahoma. Governor Henry is expected to veto this bill before the deadline of 11:59 pm tonight, but the margins by which the bill was passed in the legislature indicate that there's enough power to override this veto.

Whether or not you believe that life begins at conception is essentially pointless in this case. The stem cell research that is being done/has been done/is planned to be done in Oklahoma is done on stem cells extracted from fertilized embryos that would not otherwise be used; instead, these embryos are slated to be discarded as medical waste.

So, keeping in mind all of the advances and cures that potentially could be found through this research - those for ALS, cancer, paralysis, spinal cord injuries, Alzheimer's, and others -- the Oklahoma legislature is sending a message that, no matter that there are people who are living with these issues, their lives are not as important as something that has been deemed medical waste. Basically, they are telling me that my grandfather, who is suspected to be in the early stages of Alzheimer's, is not as important as something slated for the trash. That my friends and family members who are fighting or have fought cancer are not worth saving -- that saving waste is more important.

This doesn't even take into account the economic implications that making this research illegal could have on our state.

Please, Oklahoma residents, I urge you to think about what this could mean for our state. Contact your legislators and ask them to support Governor Henry's veto of this bill. Allow this research to occur. You never know -- it might be you, or your loved one, who needs the cure found through this research.

When You're Tan You're...

Tan and Tone America has a stupid new commercial playing on several local radio stations. The phrase repeated throughout it annoys me to no end: "When you're tan, you're hot; when you're not, you're not."

Um, okay. How about we ask my friend Brandy what she thinks of the commercial? I'm relatively sure that she'd tell you that when you're tan, you might have skin cancer. She had a cancerous growth removed from her ankle a couple of weeks ago. To the best of my knowledge, she's never been in a tanning bed and I KNOW that she uses sunscreen religiously.

Now, I can't say that I've never been in a tanning bed or never laid out to get some sun. I have only laid in a tanning bed three times because it turned me a funky yellowish shade, but I have spent plenty of time outside without sunscreen -- swimming, playing golf, boating, working on the farm, and more. I've also had more sunburns, several of which were horrible, than I can count. I've not been as diligent about applying sunscreen as I should be, but that's all about to change.

Knowing someone close to me, who is within my age range, has had skin cancer removed has completely changed my outlook. Sure, I think a slight tan is pretty, but this summer when we go to the lake, I'll be slatering on the sunscreen. The same when I mow the yard and the same goes for pretty much anytime I'm going to spend time in the sun.

I don't care if, according to Tan and Tone America, I'm NOT hot because I'm not tan. Personally, I'd rather be pale, pasty, and "not hot" and be skin cancer free.

Pics of the New Ink

Mom's new tat on top and mine below hers:

Tattoos Cause Cancer!

My mom came to see me this weekend and we've had a crazily fun time together. From the moment she arrived, we've barely stopped -- pedis, junk food, the casino, and the ultimate -- we both got tattoos. It was her first and my second.

Last night, we emailed pictures of them to my sister, who showed them to my nephew. I had forgotten that my nephew apparently hates tattoos, until he called tonight to talk to my mom. He told Mom he'd seen the pictures and was incredibly unhappy. Mom kept asking him why he dislikes tattoos so much and he finally said, "Well, Grandma, it's like this. Tattoos cause cancer."

Where did kids get these things? Mom quickly reassured him that, no, tattoos do NOT cause cancer, but he apparently still hates the idea of them.

How do You Mend a Broken Heart?

I'm hoping that Dr. Zepic at the rest of his cardiology staff at the Kansas Medical Center in Andover know the answer to this question. My Poppy Abe (maternal grandpa) is on his way to Andover for heart surgery tomorrow morning and I hope beyond all hope that Dr. Zepic will again be able to help heal Poppy's heart.

A year and a half ago, Poppy had a heart attack and was airlifted to Andover, where Dr. Zepic managed to save his life. This past Friday, he had a spell at home and passed out; luckily, some of my family members were at his house when it happened. He's been in the Fredonia hospital since then, and as of tomorrow afternoon, will be the proud new owner of a pacemaker.

I know that this is a relatively uncomplicated surgery, but when you're talking about a man who is nearly 90 years old, especially when he's MY grandpa, it provides cause for me to worry. I'm not heading to Kansas at this point and am not planning on going, unless something bad happens tomorrow.

I've got to admit that Dr. Zepic doesn't exactly have the world's best bed-side manner, but he managed to help Poppy pull through last time and also is Mom's cardiologist, so I have full faith in him. I guess it doesn't really matter if you're a cheery, happy person, so long as you're a good and talented physician and know how to mend a broken heart.

The Bill with a Name

Two weeks or so ago, I received a one dollar bill in change from my lunch. When I pulled it out the next morning to buy a Diet Coke, I discovered that it had been autographed. I couldn't read the signed name, but could read that it was written to "Destiny" with "Best wishes!". I stuck it back in my wallet, thinking that I would research it a little more at a later time.

Over the next few days, I'd periodically see it and wonder whose name was signed to it. Why had someone spent a dollar that they had someone autograph? Was it someone famous? Locally famous? Internationally famous? Did they spend it by accident? Because they had no other money? I still had no clue, but resisted spending it, thinking that I'd just hang onto it for a while.

Fast forward another day or so and I had come down with a nasty cold. I went in to work to pick up my computer and a few other things and then prepared to head for home so that I could rest and heal. On my way down the stairs, I was overcome by a coughing fit and desperately needed a drink -- I was dizzy and my throat was on fire. I walked through the break room and made a beeline for the soda machine. As I reached into my purse, I grabbed the only dollar I had with me to feed into the machine -- the autographed one. I watched the machine pull it in and grabbed my bottle of water, hoping to help my throat.

On the way home, as I sipped water and coughed, I thought a little more about that dollar. Perhaps, like me, the autograph recipient spent it out of desperation. I'll never know whose signature graced that bill, although I will long wonder, as will I wonder what drove the recipient to spend the autograph.

Sally Kern has Competition!

It's not much of a secret that I find Sally Kern to be a giant moron. I heard a story on the radio today, however, that taught me that she has competition for being the biggest moron among our nation's state legislators -- Linda Gray from Arizona.

Linda has been a member of Arizona's legislature for more than 12 years, and according to her bio on the state's Web site, is considered to be a "foremost expert on education." What a freaking joke. Read on -- you'll understand why.

You see, Ms. Gray received a letter from a high school student in her district, asking her to not support cuts to the state's schools; this e-mail/letter was written as part of a class assignment. The letter, apparently, was poorly written and contained grammatical errors, including run-on sentences.

What this morong did next takes the cake. Without batting an eyelash, she responded to this student, taking her to task for using poor grammar in her message. Instead of checking into this student's background before firing off her vitriolic message of nastiness, she charged forth, certain she was fixing all of the world's problems. Part of her response read, "By your poorly written email, your example tells me that all the money we have spent on your education shows a lack of learning on your part."

Well, what Ms. Gray managed to do was malign a young girl who has learning disabilities and is enrolled in ESL and remedial reading courses. I wonder if Ms. Gray has ever tried to learn a second language. I wonder if she ever struggled in school. It's apparent to me that she hasn't learned the value of addressing the concerns of the residents in her district, nor the value of encouraging future generations to participate in the political process.

Oh...the funny part? Ms. Gray's emailed response contained not just one, but SEVERAL grammatical errors of her own.

What's sad is that this idiot's response has had a hugely negative impact on this young woman. This sweet young girl apparently wrote back to the representative, apologizing for taking her time and for not being intelligent.

When all of this came to light, her response was to invite the young student to spend a day with her at the Capitol. Happily, the young girl refused, but she did invite Ms. Gray to spend a day with her at school. No word yet on if she's accepted.

What I know is this -- karma's a bitch and Ms. Gray will eventually answer for her nastiness. In the end, I have a feeling that it'll be the young woman who has the last laugh.

Eleven?!?!

This evening as I sit here and wait for Walgreens to fill my prescriptions (I'm SICK of being sick; have a sinus/ear infection), I'm reading the news to kill a little time.

Yesterday, a man from Hutchinson, Kansas, was sentenced for his ELEVENTH DUI. Eleven? Are you kidding me? How in the hell has this man been allowed to continue to drive? He apparently had at least some form of a driver's license because he was supposed to have a device on his moped that would test his blood alcohol level.

Click here for the entire story.

Smackdown!

After my night of insomnia, I came to a conclusion: I think it would be awesome to put Billy Mayes and Shamwow!'s Vince in a head-to-head match to see who wins. My money's totally on Billy Mays. Vince seems like a weasel and I've gotta think that Billy could kick his ass.

Oy -- I think I need a little more sleep!

Insomnia and Late-Night TV

It's currently 4:13 a.m. on Monday morning. I've been awake since shortly after 2 a.m., thanks to a drunkenly-dialed wrong number call I received on my BlackBerry. And, yes, the ringer was on because it's my work phone - I have to be able to answer it pretty much 24/7.

Anyway, I typically have a pretty hard time going back to sleep if I'm woken in the middle of the night. So, here I sit...exhausted, sore, and yawning, yet strangely unable to shut down my mind and drift off back to sleepyland.

I finally got tired of tossing and turning, so I grabbed a pillow and a blanket and curled up on the couch, thinking that some mind-numbing television would do the trick. Not so much. This time of night, even with digital cable, there's NOTHING on, with the exception of infomercials. There's normally not a thing wrong with a good infomercial, but they're not helping lull me to sleep; instead, they're just making me want to spend money. Good thing I'm too sleepy to grab my debit carb because otherwise, I might now own a Rocket Grill, the Magic Bullet blending system, a book by Matthew Lesko, and some Super Colon Cleanse. Okay, so I'm kidding about actually buying the last two, but still, you get the picture.

Not Really a Surprise

I grew up in the bible belt - Kansas - and still live in an area of it today - Oklahoma. I've grown accustomed to the conservative values that many in this area hold and can appreciate the fact that we're each entitled to our own thoughts, beliefs, and values -- that's part of living in America. There are stories, however, like some of those I read today, that still manage to surprise me.

Story one: we're wasting valuable time and money in the legislature debating the merits of changing the wording on our state flag to say Oklahoma! instead of Oklahoma. The same representative also wants to create an "official" state abbreviation: OK!. I'm sorry, but I think there are better things to spend our time and money doing. Sure, the relatively trivial things can sometimes add some lightheartedness to our life. This one just seems pointless. Click here for the full story.

Story two: another Oklahoma legislator drafted a resolution today opposing a lecture being presented by Richard Dawkins tonight at OU. Great idea! Let's waste time AND money to draft a pointless resolution to continue to make us a laughingstock. What's next? Following the former Kansas State Board of Education in removing the teaching of evolution from the classrooms? Here's the full story.

Story three: and finally, saving the best for last, an instructor for an Oklahoma hunter safety course took an anti-President Obama stance and kicked all liberals and those who voted for Obama out of his class. When I first saw this headline, I literally laughed out loud because I couldn't believe it. Then I realized that it wasn't some sort of sick joke. It was true. Kudos to the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation for their quick thinking and actions. Read the story here.

I think I'll go hide and pretend that I'm not an Oklahoman, although my home state of Kansas isn't doing a whole lot better -- more on that tomorrow.