There Were No Eggs Fried In Bacon Grease This Year

If you know me or have read my Facebook posts around Memorial Day for the past 12 to 15 years, you know that on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend, my sister, my female-Krause cousins, and my two maternal aunts gather at Auds' house (the matriarch of our tribe, my Grandma Krause) and from there head out to three cemeteries to place flowers and clean up the headstones and make sure everything is in order.
Then we stop at a very small tavern in Red River, drink, play games, jam the jukebox full of dollar bills and head to eat at a supper club. Shawano has got to be the world capital of "supper clubs". I've been eating at them since I can remember.
The highlight of the entire weekend, however, is waking up at Grandma's on Sunday morning to the smell of coffee brewing, bacon frying in her cast iron skillet, toast ready to pop from the toaster, and the sound of my cousins' and aunts' voices laughing and telling stories from Grandma's very cramped kitchen. I usually sleep on the living room couch, and when I wake up, I lay there with my eyes still closed for several minutes, absorbing these sounds, smells and feelings and I try to make damn sure they're imprinted in my memory because listening to what's going on in that kitchen is my personal definition of bliss, of family, and of love.
Once I decide I've got enough sensory information to process, I get up, walk into the kitchen, greet my family, grab a cold can of Coke from the refrigerator and then Grandma asks me, "How do you want your eggs?" As I stated earlier, we've been completing this ritual for well over a decade, but every year she asks. My answer is always the same: "Fried over hard right in that bacon grease." I know she knows this, but she's polite enough to ask every year, just in case I've gone crazy in the past year and changed my mind. The next thing I hear is an egg cracked open on the side of the cast iron skillet, then I hear the cracking of another. Within ten minutes I'm served two eggs, fried over hard, the white edges ragged and brown. The dull, golden yolks as solid as the whites. I grab three strips of bacon from the plate with two paper towels placed on it to soak up some of the grease. I have two pieces of toast with raspberry jam dug into with a spoon instead of a knife; Auds has always used a spoon to serve jam because you can't get enough of it on a knife. This, my friends, is the breakfast of kings...or queens. As soon as I finish eating, I'm already looking forward to eating it again next year. If I ever end up on death row, this will be the last meal I request.
This year was different. It was A LOT different. Even though we all gathered at Grandma's house, placed flowers and cleaned up headstones; stopped at the dinky tavern in Red River and ate at a supper club, there were no eggs fried in bacon grease this year.
On the Tuesday before Memorial Day Weekend, my 86 year old grandmother went into her backyard and picked rhubarb to make me, of all people, rhubarb bars because she knows I love them. Actually, I only love her rhubarb bars. Anything from a bakery is a far-distant second to the magic she bakes. While walking through the yard, she stepped into an uneven divot in her backyard and fell. She fractured her right femur. She laid there for a short time when a stranger walking a dog walked past her on the sidewalk and at her request, knocked on her neighbor's door and her neighbor called for an ambulance. Or the neighbor called my aunt and uncle who live in Shawano. These details I'm unclear on. The result, however, is that she was taken to the hospital in Shawano and then transported to AMC in Appleton. She was admitted to the surgical services floor and cleared for surgery to reset her femur on Wednesday night. She had surgery at approximately 8pm on Wednesday after arriving at AMC at 1:30pm on Tuesday. She had a plate, one screw and one "pin" (which is just medical jargon for a really long screw) placed on her femur and the pin was placed into her pelvic bone. I saw the post-op x-rays and that pin is really long.
On Saturday afternoon, as our tribe was placing flowers and driving from cemetery to cemetery, Grandma was transported from AMC to Maple Lane, a skilled nursing facility (aka nursing home) outside Shawano to rehab her right leg. When I visited her at AMC on Friday, I was lucky enough to be there when her hospitalist (doctors who manage the care of hospitalized patients) came in. The doc was great. She checked her wound, checked her pedal pulses, asked about her pain and anxiety levels. Even though Auds reported feeling "jittery inside" she didn't request anything for her anxiety. When the doc asked if she would like an anti-anxiety medication sent up from pharmacy, Grandma said, "No, I'll be ok." I was sitting behind Grandma shaking my head "yes" so Auds got 0.5mg of Xanax which apparently did the trick because within 15 minutes of swallowing that pill, she was sleeping comfortably and snoring. Before the Xanax discussion, Grandma told the doctor straight up, "I'll do whatever I have to do to get back home."
I don't know how long she'll be in the nursing home. I do know that she's in Occupational and Physical Therapy and working through the pain to reach her goal of being discharged to home.
In years past, when I've unpacked my clothes from our gravehopping weekends after returning home on Sunday, I've been able to smell my grandma's kitchen on my pajamas; the coffee, the toast, and especially the eggs and bacon. Not so this year. My pjs smelled just like they did before I left for Shawano on Saturday morning. That made me sad. The lingering smell was a bit of a tease to look forward to breakfast next year. Although it didn't happen this Memorial Day Weekend, aka gravehopping, I'm doubly looking forward to my fried eggs next year because I'm certain next year, on the Sunday morning of Memorial Day Weekend, my grandma will be in front of the stove, asking me how I'd like my eggs.

All Your Life, You Were Only Waiting for This Moment to Arise

Monday, May 18th will begin my final two weeks during this school year when I will be seeing PATH clients (the in-school mental health counseling program). The week that starts on Monday, June 1st is scheduled for final exams, turning in Chrome Books, and completing final projects which means that both of the high schools where I see students in Appleton will have funky class schedules, so I won't see students that week: they've got enough to worry about and it would impact them greatly in a negative way if I pulled anyone from a class that's reviewing course material or administering a final exam. Plus, Thursday, June 4th is graduation day and seniors don't have to "report" on Friday, June 5th as underclassmen do.
Last year at graduation time, I had been working in two high schools for the spring semester, one in Appleton and one in Menasha. Now I've been working with some students from two Appleton high schools for a year and a half; that's a significant amount of time to spend with a kid week after week, watching them grow through loss and success, bearing witness to their pain, walking with them through the wretched path that adolescence can sometimes be. I have also had the privilege of encouraging them week after week to make positive decisions for their futures and celebrated with them when they've been accepted to the college they really want to attend, get the scholarship they doubted they'd receive but did, and decide who they want to be and how they want to present themselves as college freshmen.
It's been a process I have trouble putting words to. The resiliency of "my kids" (which is how I refer to them) is astounding. I would challenge anyone who thinks of him- or herself as an adult who can bounce back from any setback. Really? So you would be able to change your gender identity from female to male in high school and tolerate the name-calling, bullying and uncertainty that goes with that decision?  You would be able to have a baby at the start of second semester, create a support network for yourself and your infant child which allows you to complete the school year by attending online school without losing any credits? You would be able to learn emotional regulation and acceptable and unacceptable behavior with technology, all while learning how to communicate effectively with others using sign language, which your own parents don't know or understand?
If you are willing to take on the challenge to live the life of one of my kids for one school semester, a relatively short period of time in one's life, message me on Facebook because I guarantee that you will fail. I know I would and I've been working with these kids for roughly 17 months. I know their secrets, their dreams, their fears, their goals, and who they want to become...and I would fail at "successfully" living any of their lives. Their lives are so much more complicated than mine was as I graduated from high school on June 8, 1989. Good grief, gossip, "rating notes", and sitting with the "cool kids" at lunch was hard enough to navigate 26 years ago without the influence of Snap Chat, Facebook, askfm and Instagram.
When I was in junior high and high school, my parents told me how much "easier" it was for me compared to what they had to endure in the late 1960s while in middle school and high school. I will be the first person to get in line to say that kids in junior high (ok, middle school) and high school now have it MUCH tougher than I or most of my classmates could ever imagine the world would become. In my generation you could tear up a note written on notebook paper. This generation has to live knowing their entire lives are available to anyone willing to search hard enough to find "nude" photos, intimidating comments and bold face lies posted about other people one may have made in a moment of impulsivity or plain bad judgement. An applicant's online presence can be searched by the potential college he or she wishes to attend. Potential employers have the ability to discover what someone may wish was undiscoverable, but is easily found by someone with the required computer skills. Would any of us have changed our behavior if we knew that documentation of our stupidity, immaturity or impulsivity was "unerasable"? I think so. I know I would; but I come at this issue with the knowledge and hindsight of a 44 year old adult, not a 17 year old teen ager.
As this school year comes to a close and as I watch some of my kids walk across that stage to accept their high school diplomas, I will wish them all the best the world can offer them. I will tell them to grab every opportunity presented to them. I will tell them to believe that their best is enough, whether other people acknowledge that or not.
I will tell them to spread their wings and fly.

Have I Truly Followed My Dreams?

I don't understand why sometimes the spring season elicits an ancient yearning in me to leave my current life behind and run away to the places I consider my "spiritual" homes and to track down people whose friendship or love I feel is what fait truly had destined for me, but "life" interfered.
So far this is not one of those springs. It's still early, and as the weather brightens and becomes warmer, I may indeed feel the drive to flee to Key West, FL or Moab, UT, but currently I'm pretty stable about staying put.
Key West and Moab are two places where I've spent time and felt a sense of "arrival"; like I finally found my home. Twenty-plus years ago those places were New York City and Boston. Although they still hold attraction to me, I'd rather visit than live there. Been there, done that.
I'm surprised at how different these two location are. Key West is surrounded by water and Moab is high in the Rocky Mountains. Although both have a similar anti-establishment vibe. Key West prides itself on being the southernmost place in the continental U.S. and is a port for cruise lines. The "Duval Crawl" is an infamous way of bar-hopping up one side and down the other of Duval Street where famous bars like Sloppy Joe's are located. Sloppy Joe's was one of Ernest Hemingway's hang-outs when he lived in Key West. I've taken the tour of his home on the island and saw my share of six-toed cats which were supposedly spawned by an original pair that lived on his property.
Moab is entirely different. It's surrounded by Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, the Colorado River, the Green River, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area and Natural Bridges National Monument. The way that wind, rain and time (and I suspect, the hand of God) have shaped this landscape is breathtaking. I've seen arches in the making; the difference between arches and bridges are that arches are not rock eroded by water, they are swept away by wind which creates a hole in the large rock and leaves the arch hanging over the top. Bridges however, are created through erosion by water and frequently the water changes course and all that's left is the bridge hanging over the top. While visiting Canyonlands, Mark and I were there late at night, stopped the car and laid on the hood, looking at the stars. I have never seen so many stars; they blanketed the sky and we saw the edges of the Milky Way. The first few days we were in the area there was a full moon. I've never seen the light of such a bright moon. There was no urban light pollution to fade the natural light away. Shadows of rock formations were lit as if there was a spotlight pointed on them. It was magical and grounding all at the same time.
I once played a game that asked, "Which would you rather give up: never again seeing the ocean or never again seeing mountains?" I have no idea how to answer that question. I don't want to give up either. I want to swim in the ocean in Key West, San Francisco and Boston harbor. I want to climb the mountains in Utah, California and North Carolina. Are these dreams I should pursue or are they memories of amazing places I've vacationed and have treasured memories of?
Right now, my general statement is: I don't care if I have to live in a box on the beach, I'm retiring to Key West. Alternately, I state: I don't care if I have to live in a box in the foothills, I'm retiring to Moab. Since I'll likely need to work until I'm 70 years old to have any type of retirement, I'm grateful I don't have to make this decision until roughly 2041, so I've got some time to think it over.

When Confusion Becomes a Way of Life

First and foremost, I have to say, I thought I was DONE with the shit my husband would pull because he was relapsing and drinking which lead him to act like a complete asshole. Apparently he's on a "dry-drunk" as those familiar with Alanon lingo will recognize, because he's not drinking but he's still acting like a complete and utter asshole.
I hate this part of our relationship. I've been here before: he's been sober before and acted like a total dick head. Beyond all the shit that his alcoholism brings to our relationship, he's also being treated for depression and anxiety. As I have suffered the depths of depression to the point where I engaged in 12 sessions of ECT (electro-convulsion therapy; "shock therapy") as a potential resource for relief, I can empathize with his behaviors based on depression and anxiety. By the way, the ECT was very effective in treating my depression. There are gaps in my memory, especially while I was undergoing ECT, but overall the benefits outweighed the risks for me. Unfortunately I don't remember one of my best friend's wedding, but I have pictures and details provided by others to help fill in the gaps. I also continue to experience aphasia, the loss of words on the tip of my tongue, which really pisses me off because I had a memory, especially for dates and times, like a steel trap. The friend whose wedding I can't remember used to refer to my memory as something similar to Dustin Hoffman's character in the movie Rainman. The fact that I now struggle to recall those dates that used to be right there for me to grab out of the blue is a continued source of frustration. Although I do find solace in the fact that I'm not put on the spot to recall certain dates and times all that often. In fact, it's pretty rare for anyone to ask me the date I graduated from high school or the week a bunch of us saw both The Who and The Grateful Dead at Alpine Valley. My memory used to be a twisted sort of party trick which I happily participated in.
Regardless of all of that, the point is that I'm back in a situation where I don't know what to expect when I walk in the door after coming home from work. Today I attended an ethics training in Green Bay until about 12:30pm so after a coworker and I went out for lunch afterwards, I got home at around 2pm. Apparently I came home "in a mood" which I was not aware of. My "beloved" accused me of "having an attitude" when I walked in the door. Our memories of whatever took place this afternoon will always vary wildly, so it's not worth trying to argue my case. My concern is questioning bigger, existential questions.
Why have three out of the four major romantic relationships in my life involved an addict or an alcoholic? Do I think I can "fix" them? Is it because, as a recovering addict myself, those are the people I meet and hang with? Do I psychologically need the chaos living with an addict/alcoholic brings? Good God I hope the last question is not true. In my mind I'm totally fucked if that's the case because altering that pattern will take enough therapy to bankrupt me. Seriously. As a counselor, I have enough information about the entire billing process to know that if I begin addressing this issue at age 43, I'll likely be 53 by the time that entire web is unweaved and I don't have that kind of time, money or patience to unweave it and then rebuild a major portion of my personality. As much as my Freudian psychiatrist would like to hear that I need to schedule two-hour sessions twice a week for the next two to ten years, I'm not really up for it. Mostly because I don't think I'm the one who is being unreasonable here. Perhaps I'm rationalizing, but I'm not the one who recently spent five days in an inpatient mental health unit. Ok, that's a version of throwing stones from a glass house, but what the hell? This is MY blog, right?

It's a Cold and It's a Broken Hallelujah

It's been a hell of a week. If you've seen some of my Facebook posts from the week, you're aware that the husband of one of my best friends in the world died of cancer one week ago.
Mike was the kind of guy that slid right in to our circle of friends. Had he gone to high school with us, we totally would have hung out with him. He would've been one of "us", that's how closely he matched our general vibe, interests, music & "recreational activities". If I have to explain to you why recreational activities is in quotes, you didn't know us in high school. The "us" I refer to know who you are & anyone else from the 1989 class from Appleton West knows who comprised "us" as well.
I think I have a unique perspective on Jeanette & Mike's relationship, at least the budding beginning of it. She came out to Boston to visit me my senior year in college and reported that she was "interested" in this guy who worked with her mother (of all people) and they had gone on one or two dates by that time. Nothing serious, no expectations, but she was hot for him - girlfriends know these things about each other.
After she returned to Fond du Lac, she kept me updated on when they spent time together.
Then there was the week that went by when he didn't call her. She called me sobbing that he was "a thoughtless mother-fucker" and she was pissed off at herself for "thinking that it would work out." I had not laid eyes on Mike at this point and I was obviously totally loyal to my friend, so I concurred that he was indeed a "thoughtless mother-fucker" for stringing her along.
Then he called.
Then they had sex. Sorry Jeanette, but this is a crucial part of your history with Mike & this story. Her update about the sex was, "Man, I think he was going through the stats of the National League" (baseball) because it wasn't over in under two minutes, as is a common phenomenon for men in their early 20's. We were women in our early 20's and had plenty of experience with "the two-minute magic" but Mike is, was, 13 years older than Jeanette. He had moves. He had experience. He knew how to turn the two-minute magic into the twenty to thirty minute magic, which is very appealing when you're in your early 20's.
They eventually married. Her "g-ma" hand-made her wedding gown. She was stunning and he was majestic. The look on his face said, "Oh yeah, she kicks ass and she's mine." And he was right. He surprised her with a horse drawn carriage ride at the end of the ceremony. One of her attendants was our friend Eric J who told me at Mike's funeral that when he was standing up at the altar during their wedding ceremony he thought he was going to pass out because everyone in the church was staring at the wedding party and this was the first wedding he'd stood up for.
I remember our friend Steve taking communion, which generally isn't a remarkable event except that he's Jewish and "just got wrapped up in the crowd" that was heading toward the altar.
This was way before digital cameras and every time I snapped a photo my camera made a hideous "rrr-rrr-rrr" sound as the film advanced and wrapped around the spokes. Our friend Robb was seated in the pew in front of me and eventually got fed up with the whirling of my camera so he turned around to me and said, "If you take one more picture and that camera makes one more sound, I'm going to snatch it out of your hands and NOT give it back to you." This explains why I have photos of the first half of their wedding ceremony but none of the second half.
One of my pictures from their wedding was on a photo display at Mike's funeral. It includes Mike, me, Kate and Carrie. That photo captures a glorious moment in all of our lives and includes some of my favorite people in the world. I'm truly honored that it was chosen to be displayed as a testament to Mike's life.
I also have the dubious honor of making the first toast at their wedding reception. I was drunk off my ass, rambled on completely aimlessly for several minutes, raised my glass of whatever liquor I was swilling in large quantities and weaved my way back to my seat. My father and my sister were in attendance and after I returned to my seat, my sister immediately walked me out of the reception hall, plunked me in the backseat of my car, gave me a can of Sprite and said, "Just pass out and be done with it." I stupidly said to her, "But they must have liked it (my toast) because they were applauding when I was done." Her response: "They were just being polite."
A few years later Jeanette told me that the hotel where most of the guests stayed (not me as my sister drove us both back to Appleton that night, which I have absolutely no memory of) complained because by the end of the night, there was a large portion of a cheese and sausage platter floating in the hotel pool. I love those kind of weddings.
By the time our 20th class reunion came, Mike had been diagnosed with cancer and had undergone his initial treatment at Beth Israel Hospital in Boston. He and Jeanette showed up at my parents' house as I had invited "all of us" to reunite there. We spent many a weekend night in my parents' basement engaging in all sorts of debauchery that I won't describe in detail here; if you were there, you know what I'm referring to. At one point Jeanette asked my mom where I was and my mom's response was, "She's downstairs with some of you kids." At Mike's funeral Jeanette's mom Elaine referred to us as "you kids" as well.  My dad's assessment of that reunion evening was, "there are still cars lined up and down Lynndale Drive, but the cars are newer and in much better condition." My friends actually brought beer and liquor to my parents' house instead of drinking what had belonged to my parents at the time.
Mike was a huge Packers fan and during their run up to Super Bowl 36, or whatever the number was when Brett Favre took us to the Super Bowl and we actually won, Eric, Mike & Jeanette, Hays and I would get together at one of our apartments and watch playoff games. I again brought my camera and have wonderful snapshots of those playoff weekends.
Throughout Mike's past six years of treatment, he was a fighter. He would absolutely go to work on the days he was feeling up to it; likely he went when he wasn't feeling up to it because that's how loyal and dedicated to commitment he was. As a result of witnessing Mike's treatment, Jeanette went to graduate school and got her Master's Degree in Nursing and has become a huge advocate for cancer patients, cancer research and the care cancer patients receive.
For those of us who knew and loved Mike, our lives were made richer and better for it. Rest in peace my friend. Tell Jack-Dog and Peanut that we all love and miss them and take good care of them as they will take good care of you.

Auld Lang Syne 2014

Yes, it's the final day of 2014 and that generally requires some type of personal reflection of "the year that was"; however, I received a Christmas letter from a colleague and friend that really pared down the "review process" of reflection. I am going to attempt to complete my final entry of 2014 using the "thumbs up/thumbs down" process that she used in her Christmas letter. I thought it was genius to make something that can become SO complicated into some SO simple.
So, here are my personal "thumbs up" and "thumbs down" moments of 2014. I'll review the year month by month so as not to group all of the "thumbs up" stuff together and then lump all of the "thumbs down" stuff together because life is always a mixture of both.

01-04-14: Mark & I attended the "Dobbs Family Reunion" which is an annual event that reminds me of my connection to my Native American relatives. Although no one knew it at the time, this was the last reunion my cousin Shorty Dobbs would attend.

01-05-14: The Packers lose to the 49ers 23-20 in a play off game. Hopes of another trip to the Super Bowl are dashed.

01-06-14, 01-07-14, 01-28-14: Public schools are closed due to the significant sub-zero temperatures. This never happened when I was in school. We walked uphill in both directions to make it to school because schools didn't close due to freezing temperatures. We were lucky if recess was held indoors in these types of low temperatures.

01-23-14: My parents celebrate their 43rd wedding anniversary.  That's a long time to spend with another person. Go Rog & Shirl!

02-06-14: I have a phone interview with a sort of "outward bound" camp for at-risk adolescents located in Hawaii.  Unfortunately I would have to add a thumbs-down image because the phone interview never amounted to the in-person interview which would have been held in Hawaii, all expenses paid by the organization.

02-14-14 - 02-16-14: I spent the weekend at my sister's house with her family to facilitate a Pre-Marriage Workshop on 02-15-14 in Eau Claire. I got to spend time with my nieces, my sister and her common-law husband (if Wisconsin recognized such a relationship, which it does not) as well as their puppy Pearl and the "Dynamic Duo" her two cats, Snicks and Doobs.

02-22-14: My parents and I travel to Eau Claire to celebrate my sister's 40th birthday at a local golf clubhouse which had really awesome cupcakes instead of a cake. I bought my sister another charm to add to her bracelet from Tiffany's and her friends were going insane when they saw that "little blue box" on the gift table, expecting it to be an engagement ring from her boyfriend. I guess they would add a thumbs-down because it wasn't an engagement ring, but she seemed happy enough with the charm.
This same weekend Mark flew out to Denver to attend the wedding of his younger brother Bob to a wonderful woman, Irene.

03-03-14: My mom turns 65 (hello Medicare!) and Apollo turns 4!

04-05-14: We celebrated my mom's 65th birthday without her because she wasn't feeling well, but we had a great time!

04-25-14: Dad retires after 37 years at JJ Keller & Associates. He was hired in the summer of 1976 (before Chad was even born) as an Accounting Supervisor and retired as the Vice-President of Finance/CFO. I took my dad out for lunch on his final day of work and just as we sat down at the table, he handed me a dog-eared file folder and said, "I found this when cleaning out my desk today and thought you might want it." The folder contained every college report card, Dean's List acknowledgment, graduation and Dean's List announcements from the Post Crescent, and transcripts from my undergrad and graduate school programs. After paying for our lunch, when I got back to my office, I looked through the folder and began crying because my dad had been keeping track of my academic career since 1991, twenty years of accomplishments which is a gift I never expected to receive - and those are the best gifts to receive.

05-14-14: I celebrate my 43rd birthday and my second cousin Sammy celebrates his 5th birthday. It's so cool to share a birthday with a family member!

05-24-14 - 05-26-14: Memorial Day Weekend which in the Krause family translates to "grave-hopping"! We (my two maternal aunts, my sister, Ben & the girls, my three female maternal cousins, and myself) go to the cemeteries where our much loved ancestors are buried and clean off their graves and place summer flowers near their headstones in tribute to their lives; we truly celebrate them in memory. Once these tasks are completed, we stop at a local bar in Red River and then go out to eat in Shawano. We've been doing this for well over a decade and the group members have changed over the years; my Grandma Krause no longer goes along because all of the walking is too difficult for her; my great-aunt Shirley no longer attends because she's in a long term care facility due to Alzheimer's disease; and my great aunt Kootchie had passed on. The absolute BEST part of the weekend is when Grandma Krause fries eggs in a cast iron skillet in the bacon grease that she cooked up moments earlier. We all call it the "heart attack breakfast" but it's the BEST part of summer and something I look forward to every year.

06-01-14: Brayden's 5th birthday party: Our grandson Brayden turned 5 on 05-24-14 and we all celebrated at a birthday party on June 1st at a local park.

06-08-14 - 06-11-14: I attended a three-day training in Eau Claire and stayed at my sister and her family's house. The training was intense, but spending time with the girls & Pearl (the dog) and the Dynamic Duo (the cats) was awesome! This is me getting some lovin's from Pearl.

06-27-14 - 06-29-14: One of my best friends in the world whom I've known since junior high gets married to a really amazing guy on 06-28-14. The ceremony was beautiful, the dinner was amazing and the reception music totally rocked!

This is a photo of me & Mark at the wedding. I had complete strangers taking my picture because of my fascinator!

07-08-14: I had finally grown my hair long enough to donate to Locks of Love. The following photos are the before and after. I donated 13" of hair and my stylist cut off an additional 12" to style it!

Before.

After.

08-01-14: Dad participates in an Old Glory Honor Flight as a Vietnam veteran on the final Friday of EAA. It was an amazing experience for him and for me & Mark who were there to greet him when he arrived home and finally got the welcome home he deserved 40+ years ago.

Dad returns from his Honor Flight to Washington D.C.

09-02-14: I begin working at Rawhide two days a week through a contracted position with LSS. In a very short time I realize I love working with the staff and the residents who become my clients.

09-30-14: Mark & I celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary.

11-27-14: Thanksgiving wasn't so great this year as no one came to eat the feast I had prepared. This is the dessert they missed out on!

12-27-14: We celebrate Christmas at Mom & Dad's after I'd been sick with an upper respiratory "thing" from 12-22 through 12-26.

 The Porath family Christmas photo 12-27-14.







So that brings me to today, December 31, 2014. By totaling the thumbs-up and the thumbs-down, it's easy to see that despite the challenges and setbacks of 2014, the majority of events fall into the thumbs-up category. I guess, actually I know, you can't really complain about that!

Happy New Year's to you and yours. May the best of 2014 be the worst of 2015! I say, "BRING IT!" :-)

Gratitude, Christmas, and How it all Fits Together

For me, the last three or four Christmases or so have been "hit or miss", i.e., I didn't always know what I was walking into when we arrived at my parents' house. If memory serves me, last year it was me and my husband who were "on the outs" with my unpredictable mother and we spent very little time with my parents over the Christmas holiday. That meant not spending time with my sister, her long term boyfriend and his two daughters, whom I consider my nieces regardless if Jan and Ben ever get married or not.
The year before it was my sister who was "on the outs" with our mother and they (Jan, Ben and the girls) spent very little time in Appleton over the Christmas holiday.
This year it was somewhat of a toss-up. My sister hasn't really had much communication with our mom since a few weeks before Mother's Day when we were all specifically told via voice mail, "I'm done with you all and I know you're all done with me."
I admit that contact with my parents has significantly decreased since receiving that message loud and clear. When none of us (me and my siblings) went over to their house for Mother's Day (because, remember, a couple of weeks prior we were instructed that our mother was "done with us") she took this as a personal affront and left another series of angry voice messages about how we were ignoring her. This anger held over until Father's Day a month later when I called and spoke with my dad about when we should stop by to give him his Father's Day gift. During that phone call I could hear my mom yelling in the background that if we didn't see her on Mother's Day, we were NOT invited to their home for Father's Day. My very stoic father was in tears as he told me that we'll get together at some other time for Father's Day. Needless to say, this didn't do much to improve how I felt about my mom.
Despite all of this family discord, either my brother or my dad have picked up Apollo on weekdays and dropped him back off at our house so he doesn't spend his days alone while Mark and I are at work. Next to his leash I've left gifts, envelopes of photos, and Thanksgiving left-overs that my mom (my guess) wouldn't come over to receive, but we've received food in Tupperware containers in return and the containers of food we've sent over to them returned washed, cleaned and apparently appreciated, or at least eaten, in return.
This brings me to this Christmas, 2014. I was sick with a very nasty cold (likely picked up by the petri-dish kids I work with) on Monday afternoon, 12-22-14 until today, 12-26-14, when I finally stopped taking Dayquil every 4 hours and a hefty dose of NyQuil before bedtime. I missed celebrating Christmas at my Grandma Krause's house on Christmas Eve because the last thing on earth my grandma needs is any exposure to communicable diseases.
My sister, Ben and the girls arrived at my parents' house sometime today between noon and 1pm. Despite calling and texting, I wasn't given any additional information about "dropping by" today which I had planned on. However, if my sister and her family needed time to repair their relationship with our mother, I say, "Amen, Hallelujah, take all the time you need." Mark, Apollo and I are scheduled to arrive at my parents' tomorrow around 10:30am to "celebrate" Christmas and exchange gifts. As I haven't received any negative reports from Camp-Porath so far, I'm looking forward to going there tomorrow. We'll exchange gifts, take pictures, eat a lot of food and (with A LOT of hope) enjoy our time together. Time will tell.
Gratitude plays into this complicated scenario as a place where I can retreat to, remembering and honoring the true meaning of this season for me. On my Facebook page I posted the portion of the book of Mark from the New Testament that describes the birth of Jesus, which is one of my favorite Biblical passages. It reminds us that the Christ child, laying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, was born in the most humble of circumstances, despite being the Savior of all Christians. His life would be one of sacrifice and forgiveness: something all of us, especially me, needs to remember at this time of year.
Can I forgive my mother for her unpredictable, "crazy" behavior? What are the benefits for me of doing so? Perhaps it's not my benefits that I should focus on, but rather the forgiveness that Jesus exhibited to all that encountered him, regardless of their "worthiness" of His forgiveness. Because, in the end, if we believe, we are all worthy of His forgiveness. For that, I am extremely grateful this year.