A Drunk Guy, a Bad Call, and an Unexpected Cure

I was playing poker recently at a casino when a very drunk guy, dressed to the nines from a wedding and still clutching his drink, sat down at our table.

Security almost escorted him out immediately.

They didn't.

In hindsight, maybe they should have. 😂

For over an hour, this drunk guy slowed the game to an agonizing crawl. The poker dealers had to repeatedly explain basic rules to him.

Eventually, I found myself down to a third of my starting stack. Holding pocket sevens, I watched the flop come Queen-Queen-Four. It was just the drunk player and me left in the hand. I pushed all-in for my remaining $65, hoping his altered state might make him fold.

Instead...

He confidently tossed out $15 and declared, "I call."

Everyone at the table was confused. The bet to him was $65, not $15, but in his drunken fog, he was proudly convinced he'd made the right move.

In poker, verbal statements are binding, so when he said "call," that meant he needed to put in the full $65.

As the players and the dealer tried to explain this over and over to him, he looked back at his cards and apparently realized he should fold.

His confidence suddenly gone, he slowly slid his cards face-down across the line and said,

"I fold."

His cards went so far across the betting line that they actually wedged themselves under a few chips in front of the dealer. In any poker room in the world, that's an absolute, undeniable muck—a dead hand.

By now, things had gotten so ridiculous that the floor managers were called over. After several minutes of trying to explain to the drunk guy that because he'd verbally called, he owed the full $65, one of the managers added,

"But you can retrieve your cards."

At this point I was standing up, and I asked, "Why is that not a muck?"

I asked again. "Why is that not a muck?"

One player at the other end of the table seemed to read my plight. He looked at me with a face that practically said, "Oh, if he doesn't fold, you still might lose."

I asked again. "Why is that not a muck?"

While I kept interjecting, one of the managers finally responded, "We're not going to make him pay without letting him use his cards."

I couldn't believe it!

I tried one last time.

"The cards are touching the chips!"

The drunk guy finally put in the rest of the money he owed, dug his cards out from under the pot, and said, "Maybe I'll get lucky."

He did.

Of course an Ace came on the river.

Of course he had an Ace.

Of course he won.

I slammed my cards down and snapped,

"Thanks a lot!"

Without missing a beat, one of the managers replied,

"You're welcome."

Seriously? Really?

I was L I V I D.

An hour later, I was sitting at a slot machine still steaming.

At least I had enough awareness to realize I was still piping mad, so I was literally trying breathing exercises to calm down (which sounds funny now, but at the time I was beyond livid).

My mind started doing what minds do best: taking one embarrassing moment and turning it into a full-blown catastrophe.

Great.

Everyone saw that.

The managers hate me.

The players are talking about me.

The whole poker room thinks I'm unstable.

I'm going to have to find a new casino.

Maybe move to another state.

Witness protection might be my only option.

To the casino staff, this was probably just another Tuesday.

To me, it was apparently the end of civilization.

Looking back, I doubt anyone would remember that I got mad—just that the ruling itself was ridiculous.

They'd remember the incident.

Not me.

A little while later, I spotted one of the players from the table and practically flagged him down.

"Hey," I asked, "did he muck those cards?"

Without hesitation, he said,

"Absolutely. Everyone was talking about it."

Then he added,

"I'd have been pissed, too."

And just like that, the steam was gone.

Apparently, "I'd have been pissed, too" is oddly therapeutic.

Who knew? 😂

Well… It Worked.

My Mom dealt with severe anxiety for as long as I can remember. She was on medication her entire adult life, and to her, running out simply wasn’t an option.

Navigating that anxiety became a constant thread throughout our lives. 

When I was around 40, I had to take my Mom to the emergency room, and we already knew she’d be admitted into the ICU overnight.

My Mom was absolutely spiraling at the thought of going without her anxiety medication, Ativan.

So she asked me to bring some.

Once she got admitted, the two of us suddenly became part of an undercover operation trying to sneak the Ativan past the nurses. 

(Please do not do this 😄)

That’s how serious her anxiety was.

Which is why it became a full-blown crisis the day her longtime psychiatrist retired when I was about 14 years old.

She found a brand-new psychiatrist and booked an appointment, even though she was incredibly nervous about it.

While she sat across from him, the doctor reviewed her chart, and then suddenly looked up at her with complete confusion.

“So, uh… what medication are you currently taking?" he asked flipping to another page.

Mom told him.

He blinked.

Then looked back at her again.

“Ma’am… that medication is for bedwetting.”

Without missing a beat, my mother looked him dead in the eye and shrugged.

“Well… it worked.” 

To her, it was a perfectly reasonable answer.

Honestly, it still cracks me up—and I wonder if he tells this story, too.

In her mind, the important thing was simple:

The medication helped her. 

End of discussion.

That was my Mom—completely unintentionally hilarious.

The doctor probably never recovered from this 😄

Where She Sat

Every so often, a particular memory resurfaces—one that, with the wisdom of adulthood, takes on an entirely new meaning. This one comes from my childhood, spent mostly along the Frio River in Concan, Texas.

From about eight years old, weekends at the river were our ritual. My mom eventually bought a few acres, and it became our second home. We camped there—our land—while spending our days a couple of miles away at a small park that gave us access to the river.

For a few years after her divorce in ’77, it was just the two of us. A quiet, steady rhythm of mother and daughter.

My Mom had a spark—playful, a little wild, and completely at home out there.

Concan sits in the heart of the Texas Hill Country—clear, cool water winding through limestone, cypress trees stretching over the riverbanks, sunlight dancing across everything. In the summer, it could be crowded—families, coolers, laughter echoing across the water, every good spot claimed early.

But this day wasn’t like that.

It was quiet—almost too quiet.

I don’t remember many people at all—no clusters of campers, no steady line of tubers drifting by. It felt more like a weekday than the busy weekends we were used to. Open. Still.

The Texas Hill Country—open, safe, and mine to explore.

The part of the river we loved sat just beside Neal’s Lodges—
a place full of hidden corners I knew by heart.

The Bear Cave. The Blue Hole. Casey’s Fall. 

Names I had given them myself, as if I were claiming little pieces of the world.

Trails crisscrossed the area, and I wandered them freely—sometimes with my mom, often on my own—completely at ease in a place that felt like it belonged to me.

“Bear Cave”—a name I gave it, and a place that felt like my own little discovery.

One day, I ran into a couple of older kids—teenagers, I realize now—near the river. I was probably ten. A total tomboy. Completely trusting.

I started showing them my favorite places—the ones that felt like mine.

We wandered through the quiet, nearly empty campground, cutting across areas that were usually filled with people. I proudly pointed out the Bear Cave—one of my favorite places to explore. Massive boulders sat stacked and scattered, like they had fallen from the cliffs hundreds of years ago. At least, that’s how I imagined it.

We searched for tadpoles in the shallow water, moving slowly along the edges, but I also made sure to take them to what I considered the best spot—the deepest part of the campground. A place where one large boulder sat alone in the water, the surface dropping off into something darker and quieter. It felt different there. Still. Like its own little world.

I remember feeling proud—like I was letting them in on something special.

The deepest spot I knew—quiet, still, and a little mysterious.

At some point, they asked if I wanted to join them for dinner. I told them I needed to check with my mom—it was getting close to dark—and they didn’t hesitate. They walked back with me without question.

We headed toward the park—the one we used during the day, a couple of miles from where we camped.

I didn’t realize then how much she was always watching out for me.

As we came around the bend, I saw her.

She was sitting alone at one of the concrete picnic tables.

Everything else was gone.

The cooler, the tubes, the lawn chairs—the usual mess of a full day—had all been packed up and put away. That alone told me something was off. I always helped her pack everything up. That was just what we did.

But this time, it was already done.

It was just her. A drink. A book sitting open in front of her—one she clearly hadn’t been able to read. Her cigarettes nearby.

Waiting.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, casually introducing them. “They invited me to cook out with them.”

Her response came fast and sharp:

“No. We need to leave. Right now.”

There was no discussion. No softening. Just urgency.

The boys backed off immediately.

At ten years old, I didn’t fully understand what I was seeing—but I felt it. Something wasn’t right.

Looking back now, I think she was caught somewhere between two instincts in that moment—relief that I was okay, and anger that I had been gone so long. The kind of split-second tension only a parent could feel.

But what stayed on the surface was the urgency.

We were leaving.

What I didn’t realize then—and what she never needed to say—was what those hours must have been like for her.

Now, I can picture it. Calling my name into empty trails. Walking farther and farther, trying to stay calm while something deeper starts to take over. That moment when time stretches just a little too long, and the questions begin.

Where is she?

Is she okay?

I had wandered farther than she could find me. Out of sight. Out of reach.

And I had no idea.

As a child, I was just doing what children do—exploring a world that felt safe, trusting the people in it, never questioning that I would be fine.

But now, I see the other side of that day.

Not as something I did wrong—but as something she carried.

The fear.
The waiting.
The not knowing.

My mom is the one who taught me to love the outdoors—to wander, to explore, to feel at home in places like The Frio River.

She passed away in 2011, yet her hold in my heart is still very strong.  

And sometimes, when this memory comes back, I think about that day—not from where I stood—

but from where she sat.

Alone.

The Kindest Thing You Can Do is Let Someone Else Be Kind

I’ve learned countless lessons from my friend June, and while one of the biggest was a life changing moment for me, another little tidbit has stuck with me for years.

It’s a small, simple moment that reveals so much about human connection.

(And shows what a a wonderful person June was.)

I was with June downtown one day when a woman asked us if we needed directions. I knew June was familiar with the area, but for some reason she politely told the woman she didn't know the way. The woman then happily gave June a detailed set of directions.

As we walked away, I asked June why she pretended not to know where we were going.

June’s answer was simple and profound: “People like to help others. It makes them feel good.”

I can still picture the scene perfectly:

June listened intently, nodding and smiling, and the woman genuinely happy to be helping, as she pointed to the direction down around the corner where we needed go. When she finished, June thanked her with a huge, grateful smile - and even a hug! They both walked away a little happier.

In that small interaction, June taught me that sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is let someone else be kind.

It’s a beautiful reminder that connection and shared joy can be found in the simplest of exchanges.

(Gemini created)

The Unseen Burden of Certain Questions

It's incredibly tough when seemingly innocent questions cause deep pain, especially during vulnerable times. And they aren't trivial instances - some have a significant emotional impact, and they stay with us.

Sometimes, a seemingly simple question can inflict deep emotional distress, even if that's not the asker's intent. While "terrible" might not be the exact word, there are moments when a question, innocently posed, places you in an incredibly difficult and uncomfortable position. It's hard to explain, but there have been a few times in my life where such a question has left me feeling profoundly upset, precisely because of the unfair position I felt like I was in.

I'll share an example that still brings me to tears (even as I type this out), even almost 14 years later. When my Mom was in hospice, someone asked if they could visit her... during her final hours. My Mom and I were incredibly close, and I knew she would only want one person by her side during that intimate time: me; the love of her life (she would always exclaim). She wouldn't have wanted a crowd; or people gawking at her, or anything like that; she just wanted me there by her side. Further, this person was someone my Mom didn't really like.

So, through my own grief and tears, I gently said no. But then, they asked again. Having to reiterate "no" while my Mom was dying and all I wanted was to be fully present with her was excruciating. It was an unimaginable burden to be forced into that conflict during such a raw, suffering time.

I was very upset that someone would place me in such a position when I was already so vulnerable. Their focus seemed to be solely on their own desire to "be there," without considering the immense emotional cost to me, or my Mom's wishes. This person had barely been present in my Mom's life for the past two years, only showing up once when she was very sick, and then suddenly wanting to be there at the very end just didn't align with what I knew my Mom wanted. As someone who naturally tries to please others, it's already incredibly difficult for me to say no or risk hurting feelings. To do so while enduring such profound personal suffering felt almost unbearable.

This experience highlights the invisible weight certain questions can carry. It serves as a powerful reminder to consider the impact of our inquiries on others, especially when they may be navigating difficult circumstances. Even now, facing a personal medical procedure that requires assistance, I find myself hesitant to ask for help, fearing I'll inconvenience someone or put them in an awkward position where they feel obligated rather than genuinely wanting to help.

Not By Myself

I go to restaurants all the time by myself, a simple consequence of living alone.

It's never bothered me to sit alone in a restaurant or at the bar of a restaurant. I share this because a close friend of mine has major anxiety and is so self-conscious about dining alone, she avoids it if at all possible. To me, it is a normal feeling, normal situation.

A few months ago, I went to an IHOP to have a late morning breakfast while my car was being worked on. I love me some IHOP and crave their delicious pancakes.

Several times over the years, I would sometimes see someone else in the restaurant within eyesight that is also eating alone. It crosses my mind - do I have the guts to ask them if I can sit with them or would they like to sit with me? I was never brave enough to approach them. But, as we both would sit there, each other on our phones or just eating alone, it made me think it would be neat if someday that might really happen.

Low and behold, this opportunity came up at that IHOP! I was waiting to be seated when another lady came in the door to eat also. As the hostess began to walk me to my seat, she asked the lady to come too, so she could sit her at the same time. I asked for a booth and the hostess gave me one. Then the lady asked for a booth, too, but none were available, only tables. She kinda looked around in shock, as did I, seeing a whole nother section vacant with plenty of booths, but they didn't have enough servers to open that section.

I looked at the lady and I could tell her booth request was a deal breaker and she turned around and started to walk away. I then nonverbally motioned my hands and offered her to sit down with me at the booth. And, she did!

We sat and talked for almost two straight hours, showing each other photos of our dogs (she just got a puppy pitbull and Lily was a pitbull) and we shared our whole history of where we lived and why - the topic was obvious because I had just moved to the area six months ago.

It was a beautiful two-hour moment, if two hours can be considered a moment.

I fully admit I doubt this experience will give me the strength to ask strangers in the future if I can sit with them or if they would like to leave their table to join me at mine, with a fellow solo-sitting patron. I do need to be careful with the interpretation of these scenarios as it can be taken wrong. To be biased and honest, I only think about this with people my own age or older and by all accounts, has a decent appearance, lol, so don't worry about my safety, please.  

While this may not happen again, it was still a really cool experience. Who knew sitting with a stranger would fulfill a little wish, huh? :)

Are You Paying Attention?

Moving to a new city has led to the obvious: meeting new people. One of my new friends has been surprising me lately, because he seems to remember everything I say. I mean, not just in general, but every detail, with detail. He'll bring things up during conversation that I have said months ago. 

This may seem normal, but we have had the type of conversations that are all over the place. You know when you start a new friendship, you are talking to someone who doesn't know anything about you or your past. What a fun opportunity, right? (especially for me because I love jabbering :) But this can lead to numerous stories about our past and every story we would share reminded us of something else related and then that would lead to more stories, which of course leads down other roads about past experiences. We can easily talk and laugh for hours - so imagine the number of stories and shared experiences that are swapped between us. I admit, I tend to share more than he does, but my point is, it's a lot of stories in just a handful of meetings. 

I share stories from my past - usually funny (hopefully), surprising (attention grabbing) or learning experiences (I have a lot), but also confiding in maybe past events I've experienced that I don't normally tell anyone. 

I often have to ask him, "what do you mean?" when he replies to one of my texts and then he'll remind me his reply was related to something I shared months ago, that I didn't even remember until he reminded me, lol. "Oh, yeah" I'll exclaim, surprised yet again how good of a memory he has.

I mentioned to him the other day how impressed I was with this memory of our talks, and his reply was eye opening - thus the reason for sharing in my blog. And I wish I had heard this years ago:

I always make a point
to pay attention to people I talk to.  

Otherwise,
it's not worth having the conversation.

This seems obvious, but I guarantee you its's not. We don't do this. Sure, we are listening, but are we hearing the person, really hearing them? Are we taking in their words and absorbing their comments? He's listening with intent. A lot of us are distracted by things around us or waiting to pounce with a reply. But not him.  He truly pays attention with the deep intent to hear you, because as he says, otherwise, it's not worth the conversation. 

And because of this deliberate intention to listen, it makes one feel kinda special, honestly, to hear someone bring up things you had said before. My wish is for everyone to experience this, to have a friend or loved one or colleague who listens to you so magically and brings up things you have shared, that it makes you feel valued and important, too. 

A Holiday is Just Another Day for Some of Us

I know people mean the best and are not intentionally hurtful. I know many of my friends and colleagues mean well and want me to be happy.

I wish I could get across to people, though, to stop trying to change my mind about things related to holidays. Holidays are just another day to me... and more so, that is okay! Stop telling me I need to make friends so that I am not alone on holidays. Stop assuming I want to be with other people on holidays or that I should be.

I have been alone on holidays for over 10 years. Just because I moved to a new place and don't do anything on holidays with others doesn't mean anything negative or sorrowful to me. This is how I was back in Texas - it's not like moving has changed my holiday celebrations. I wish people wouldn't presume I need to celebrate holidays or think I shouldn't be alone. When I say holidays are just another day for me, I think people feel sorry for me or sad for me or something. What people don't realize is, it's more difficult for me to celebrate certain holidays than to not celebrate.

I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving since my Mom passed away in 2011. The holiday only reminds me that I don't have any blood-related family left. Hey people - I'm okay with my own tradition of not celebrating it! It's honestly my coping mechanism to not celebrate it. I know that doesn't make sense, but it's my way of showing the world I don't have family, it's my one day of the year to make a stand for myself. The few times I *almost* celebrated Thanksgiving with friends, I bawled and bawled and couldn't make it out the door.  

The last few years I started to risk my ailing heart and began to go over to my neighbor's house for Christmas dinner. It was hard, but they welcomed me and loved me deeply which helped the pain of the celebration. I wanted to rush home right as soon as I could, as it really is painful, even though I felt loved. I especially wanted to escape and get home when Lily was alive. I only wanted to rush into her hugs and her excitement to see me which filled my heart and soul the only way the love from dogs can do. 

Sometimes a friend will ask, "What are you doing for Easter?"  I would ask back, "When is Easter?" and then they would laugh at me. You see, she had Easter plans set ahead with her family, so she knew when Easter was. Me? No idea. I felt kinda judged and felt like they were making fun of me - I know that wasn't their intention, though, but the laughing hurt. However, in reality, I have no idea when holidays are if they aren't a federal holiday, lol.

In my new location with new colleagues, they don't know yet or understand that I'm perfectly fine with not celebrating holidays and more so - I'm perfectly fine with being alone on holidays. One person just said to me, "I can't believe no one invited you over for Christmas," not realizing I would say no to any invite in my new town and in reality, it would be s more difficult on me to muster the courage to admit I don't want to take them up on their invite. 

So many people asked me during Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, "What are your plans for today?" Um, sitting on the couch watching whatever series I'm binge-watching at the time. And I'm as happy as I can be doing just that! On whatever holiday it is. Which to me is just another day.

Why State Parks

 If you read my previous blog post, I mentioned I was going to car camp at State Parks as I drove from Texas to Maryland for my move.

There are several important-to-me reasons I chose State Parks:

When I car camped a few times the last few years with my dear baby girl, Lily, I noticed that the State Park Police drive by at least once a day to check on each campsite. They wouldn't necessarily stop at every campsite, but they would drive by slowly, I think ensuring compliance of regulations and rules was probably the main reason, but it's natural for them to also see if campers are doing well and safe. The idea of a single chick with her dog camping alone and yet knowing the state park police were checking on things made me feel comforted. And on this 4-5 day trip, I was traveling completely alone.

The next reason may seem small but is also important. State Parks have a good online reservation system. Except for Oklahoma's, State Park websites make it easy to search for camping site availability with good maps. I bring this up because I have stumbled through other park online reservations' website and they are frustrating and sometimes would make me stop trying to stay at the park because their online system wasn't helpful to find a camping site at all. While Oklahoma is an outlier, the State Parks with user-friendly online reservation systems that I have personally used are in Texas, Arkansas, Tennesse, Virgina and Maryland.  (btw, now that I'm living in a new part of the U.S., I can't wait to add more states to that list!) 

Another reason I prefer State Parks is because they are pretty clean and kept up. I'm not trying to say if a park isn't a "state park" that it's filled with trash and not clean, but state parks seem to be at a different level for some reason.

Another benefit is you can count of a good bathroom set up. Sure, you might still see daddy long legs (that's a safe spider btw) in the showers, but the bathrooms are well maintained, whether brand new or 20 years old. At some non-state parks, the bathrooms at them can be unbearable and rarely taken care of. State Park bathrooms are the opposite. 

For the hiker like me, I love that State Parks have really great trail and park brochures that can be studied ahead of time and also downloaded. The brochures are all labeled well with trail distance, trail names and difficulty. This helps me decide if I want to visit the State Park or not, knowing if trails are near streams or there is a plethora of trails to choose from.  Also, sometimes there is no cell service at parks so to have a printed brochure can be very handy and helpful (from getting lost, lol).    

I have always felt comfortable at State Parks and during my stay at them on this trip, that theme continued.

People are pretty cordial at State Parks as well - maybe I've just gone on good days during the week, but most are on their best behavior. The State Parks kinda give that "official" "important" don't desecrate flavor, and I think the campers feel and know that as well.

Car Camping Across the Country

Planning for the Drive:

When I accepted the promotion in Maryland, one of the many items on my long to-do list for the move was to plan my drive from Texas to Maryland. While some people may want to race across the country to get to their destination as fast as they can, I simply did not.  My work allowed a minimum of 300 miles a day and because I don't like long drives, that is what I planned for. I wanted to take my time, not be rushed. 300 miles is roughly 5 hours - without traffic - and the day would need to include restroom breaks, eating, and stopping to get gas, etc. That leads to longer than 5 hours easy.

The thing is, with a 4 1/2 day drive, where am I going to stay each night? It's important to find hotels ahead of time and make reservations. Otherwise, I might be driving around for quite a while trying to find a decent place with a decent price with rooms available. That can just lead to frustrations, which I already don't need moving across the country.

I already knew I wanted to stop each day at spots that I could walk on trails and check out possible waterfalls and/or beautiful places. I wanted to take advantage of locations I hadn't been to before - who knows when I would drive across the country like this, especially not in a rush. 

It then dawned on me: what if I stayed overnight at state parks along the way?! 

It took a bit of research and planning to figure this all out. I didn't want to veer too far off my route, as I didn't want to add time to already long days of driving. I had to plan everything carefully - which state parks were located at the end of every 300 miles, if they had good camp sites available and if the state parks had great views or water along with trails. 

This plan was better than just stopping along the way at places to walk, as in reality, that would have added more time to each long day. This new plan allowed for me to take my time during the walks, because I would be already at my destination for the night. Further, this was great for stress relief - to be able to walk each evening after a long drive to decompress was great for my body, heart, and mind. 

The locations of the camping sites at each state park were most important to me - I wanted to wake up every single morning next to water - talk about food for the soul! Water always makes my heart sing. 

I planned to car camp, as most cabins are pretty expensive and/or not available. Plus, while tent camping is fun, putting a tent up and down each day for 4 days in a row would not be fun, lol - that would be quite a lot of work. 

I have car camped a few times the last few years, so felt pretty comfortable (and actually excited) about the idea. The only wrinkle I really ran into with my planning was it was Memorial Day weekend, and state parks require a minimum 2 night stay around holidays. So, the Friday and Saturday were going to be tricky. 

I guess the other two big items to take into consideration for this car camping jaunt for 4 1/2 days was would the weather cooperate and how would I car camp with so much in my car? While movers were taking the bulk of my things, I still had to pack for a week-long diving trip and because I was going to be in temp quarters (a hotel) for 4 weeks, I had to pack for that as well. And finally, the items the movers would not take I also had to pack in my car. Things like batteries, candles, cleaning supplies, etc. So, my SUV was going to be jammed packed and I wasn't sure how I'd really get it all in my car, along with the items I needed to car camp - the bedding, pillows, etc.

Next topics to come: Why State Parks? Which State Parks? Keeping in contact.

Where am I?

I honestly don't know even where to begin.

My previous three blog posts, March 31, 2021 about walking in snow, Feb 2022 about Lily's passing and then posting about an article in June of 2022 has led me to today:  September 2023.

I can't even begin to share all that's happened since I last blogged.

It may not seem that radicle or major, but after living in different places in Texas for 50 years, I up and moved to Silver Spring, Maryland by myself.  I applied for a few jobs after Lily passed away (yes, there is a correlation to that) and on the third try, I got one of them that led to a promotion here:  my new home!

There is so much to catch up on. I know that I pretty much stopped blogging during covid and also because the readers I knew about either are no longer a part of my life or no longer alive (sorry that sounds so morbid). Admittedly, I'm a ham and when I felt like I had consistent readers, I blogged more. But I also know that blogging used to be one of the joys in my life, and now that I'm on this new adventure which seems kinda outrageous honestly, maybe I should start writing some things down, errr typing blog entries.

Just the few sentences above, I could blog about every single sentence. I hope I create the time to start blogging again. Or more so, I hope to figure out a way to be able to type on my laptop easily, and not at my work desk - which does not allow me to be creative and if anything, muffles my desire to blog.

What You've Really Been Missing - Article Excerpt

 What You've Really Been Missing

If anyone in history should have died from FOMO, it would be Emily Dickinson, an agoraphobe who virtually never left her house and almost certainly never owned a phosphorescent pacifier. Yet millions of people still read Dickinson's stunning descriptions of many mind-blowing experiences. "To live," she once wrote, "is so startling it leaves little time for anything else."

This very moment of your life, if you experience it fully, will show you astonishing wonders and exquisite delights. Simple presence will take you on adventures you could miss altogether in the pursuit of nonstop thrills—without the anxiety, exhaustion, and expense. So learn to disbelieve the media hype. Listen for the wiser, deeper inner voice that tells you to relax, to melt open, to stop. Once you try it, you won't believe what you've been missing.

Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Fear-of-Missing-Out-How-to-Avoid-FOMO/3#ixzz2XYItAtuq

Lily Went to Doggie Heaven

My lovely and wonderful Lily went to doggie heaven on Feb 1st.

A mere 10 days before, Lily was diagnosed with bone cancer, a fast spreading cancer. They told me she had about a month left, which I couldn't fathom, and it was difficult to accept the terminal news. And then the time ended up much shorter. ;( Doing research and also watching Lily closely, she wasn't as active more with each day, and eventually I had to make one of the most difficult decisions of my life.

I have to say, deciding to put a beloved pet to sleep is one thing, but deciding that while she's still wagging her tail and loving on you and crawling in bed together and eating normally is horrific. I struggled and struggled and struggled with the decision, but each vet I spoke to told me I was doing the right thing because the bone cancer is so aggressive and excruciatingly painful, that letting her go to heaven is the best thing you can do for them sooner rather than later.

Osteosarcoma (bone cancer) is a brutal and aggressive disease. It usually affects large breeds, and the cancer forms first in one of their limbs before quickly spreading. Lily was limping from her left front leg, and it wasn't getting better on its own. When they x-rayed it Jan 22nd, that's when they saw the cancer. At that point, all the literature says it was probably already in her lungs. And unfortunately, those affected bones can be so brittle that it can snap and fracture, which kept me petrified and nervous every step she took.

Dogs hide their pain very well from us, don't they? But limping didn't mean that's the only time Lily was in pain, someone told me bone cancer is a actually a constant pain.

While my head knew it would be best to let her go sooner so that she doesn't have to endure the aggressive and painful nature of the disease, my heart didn't comprehend that. All my heart knew that it was the absolute hardest decision to say goodbye.

I think it was a blessing that I knew Lily had cancer, because after I learned that, I showered her with love and attention every single minute, whereas otherwise it would have been normal days of love, if that makes sense. Sure there was lots of crying and bawling, which Lily hated to see me upset, and nights were tough wondering if the next day was the last day, but I loved on her with attention every single minute. And she still had a huge appetite and yes she still wagged her tail a lot. As a matter of fact, we still played games, still walked down the street for her to go potty, took car rides to run errands together and I still spooned her in bed on the cold nights. But immersed between those was lots of slower movements and much longer naps.

I was given advice last summer, to take videos of Lily doing everyday normal things while she's still healthy and active, as you'll miss that when they're gone. And sometimes we don't think about taking videos of their routine moments until they are sick. So I'm so thankful for that advice, because I do miss the daily, routine interactions, but luckily I have them on video and I love watching her on them.

I highly recommend Lap of Love, an in-house euthanasia vet company that helps with the transition. Their compassion at home made it easier on me and Lily to be in the comfort of our house.

The in-house vet lovingly, carefully, and touchingly sent Lily to heaven. Lily was very brave, and she went very, very peacefully, with me by her side. I know it's a gift to her from me to end her suffering sooner rather than later, and she needed me to do that for her. I was honored. So difficult, but honored.

Thank you to everyone who always loved Lily and I, and followed alongside us hiking or camping or taking long and beautiful walks together in so many numerous parks, bonding outdoors or just in the yard. Thank you for understanding our love.

It has been just her and I together for many years. She's helped me through so much and our love and bond grew so deeply. We were literally inseparable. She was such a blessing!! 💙

The house is very empty, and no sounds of my best friend fill the air. But, I still talk to her, like she's here, because we had such beautiful, touching routines throughout the day. Taking our meds together, never peeing by ourselves, walking to the mail box together, joyful car rides, she always watched over me when I did yard work, and of course our loving snuggles every night.

Who rescued who? She did.

I love and miss you with all my heart, Lily Girl! And will forever. 💙💙🤍🤍

Walked in Snow!

As I mentioned in January, an idea was presented to me to walk in snow when it happens to snow here in the Dallas Fort Worth area.  I was so excited about the concept!  I normally watch the snow from my window - hadn't crossed my mind to walk in it. Sure, people play in it, but walk around the neighborhood or go to a park?  Hadn't even crossed my mind. But I was super excited about doing it if it snowed again/

Then a rare winter event crippled most of all of Texas in the second week of February, and boy did I have a chance to walk in snow! Even without power for 50 hours, I still took advantage and walked in the snow in my neighborhood.

I bundled up well (temps in the single digits!) and walked an hour Sunday, Monday, Thursday, and Friday! Pretty much every day until the snow melt.

As I would walk up my driveway, almost every time I wanted to turn around and keep walking in the neighborhood! But, an hour was about as long as my toes could handle the coldness (even with two pairs of socks on, ha!)

Here are some pics. SO invigorating, beautiful, and blessed! I'm beyond elated that I ventured out and walked for so long every day on the stunning white cavass. 

Walking in Snow

Several weeks ago it snowed on a cool, crisp, Sunday morning. It’s not rare for Dallas / Fort Worth, but it’s not common either to see “the white stuff.”

As the beautiful white snowflakes covered the rooftops on houses around me, and the yard became white, I finally went outside. I took Lily out and she was not excited at all. I guess no yellow snow from her, lol.

I took some photos of Lily running back and skirting quickly back into the house. Then I took a few traditional selfies for Instagram with the white background behind me. I also captured some video of the snow falling - remember, not common in Texas and this born-and-raised-in-San-Antonio-girl hasn’t seen a lot of snow in my life. 

I went back inside and worked around the house on some little projects and cleaning up. A few hours later, I took a break on the couch with a tv show, and checked my usual phone apps. Candy Crush, Toon Blast, Word Feud, and opened up FB just for a bit and then transitioned quickly to Instagram, which is much less dramatic, lol.

I saw numerous photos from my friends of people outside. Some made snowmen, some got pics of their kids in the snow. It dawned on me that I really didn’t take quite advantage of the snow. Most folks prolly spent a couple of hours in the snow with their family members. I didn’t even feel too excited for some reason. I kinda avoided it, in reality. Maybe if it had snowed all day or for a couple of days I would have been more impressed. But, I simply took my photos to capture on Instagram and then went back inside. I actually forgot it was snowing as the day went on.

Fast forward a week and I had a call with my financial advisor.  She had asked how I was doing and the usual intro pleasantries, and then she asked me about the snow day.

I told her it was pretty, but didn’t get out much in it.

And then she shared something I cant stop thinking about. She said that her and her husband took advantage of the beautiful scenery the snow provided and walked about 5 miles in it. She said it was so pretty and really glad they had done that.

What?!  Omg, what a great idea!  Why did I not think of that?!

Now, I would want to walk in a park, but I don’t like to drive in rain much less snow. I also wondered how slippery it would have been. Last thing I need is to slip and fall.

Plus, I don't do well in really cold weather.

However, I LOVE the idea! Love it. I will take advantage of the next snow day and take a walk in it and enjoy the picturesque scenery showered in white. I’m excited just thinking about it.

Birthdays

I have always had a love/hate relationship with birthdays. Well, I LOVE birthdays, but no one else seems to love my birthday like I do, haha.

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

I have learned a lot about birthdays. Well, in reality, I have learned about personality traits (which have nothing to actually do with birthdays).

Right after college, I was devastated when my best friend didn't call or write me for my birthday. I was hurt beyond words. Now, had I known about Myers Biggs, I *might* not have gotten so upset. What I know now is that some people just don't have the personality that gives them that pleasure and "want" to remember everyone's birthday. 

I am not sure if it's because I'm an only child or what, but birthdays are very high on the totem pole for me of importance. I want to celebrate other's birthdays with balloons and dinners and surprise them! So, naturally I would like me to be remembered on my birthday

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

When I turned 50 last year, I was scared. I really was nervous and scared. Would anyone remember? Would anyone care? I truly feel the main reason I wasn't weeping for days for my 50th not being remembered or celebrated last year was because I did the outdoor birthday smash photoshoot. It kind of deflected my attention from my sad, pathetic feelings I could have had, to sharing the photos with everyone and celebrating what I DID.

I think only one person truly remembered I was turning 50 (and she made sure I felt special for it :)). While other friends knew I was 49 the previous year (we had talked about it), me turning 50 didn't mean anything to them. 

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

One friend asked, "Did I know you were turning 50?" Yes, last year you mentioned you said I didn't look 49. I went to a birthday dinner with some friends and when the check came, I had to buy my own 50th birthday dinner. While there is a backstory to that (my fault, I'm sure), I was still hurt... because it was my 50th. It wasn't just another birthday to me, it was a special birthday to me. 

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

And, I admit, I wanted to be celebrated. My birthday being celebrated in my eyes meant people care about me. 

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

Again, this might be that only-child selfish little kid talking that needs deeper therapy, so please don't judge me.

I could always count on my Mom and Dad to remember my birthday. When my StepDad, Mom, and then Dad passed, there was no one left to remember my birthday. Without children or siblings, the only people left to truly remember my birth date were gone. 

It doesn't help that I have had some bad past experiences about my birthday. Several ex boyfriends didn't celebrate my birthday. One guy I was with for 3 years never gave me a present, another guy I was afraid I was going to get a really small pen again, and others just didn't remember or do anything special for me. Heck, one guy broke up with me ON my birthday. Guess which one? Yep, a milestone birthday - the day I turned 21.  

In the last ten years or so, to try and evade the feeling of disappointment I can sense coming, I just celebrate myself and leave town (to Vegas usually). But, those trips didn't stop the pain, only delayed it a bit.

You see, if none of my friends tell me happy birthday or don't know when the "big" ones are, there is no one else to count on. I only have them left.

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

Many of you who may be reading this may say that birthdays aren't that special anymore, or "Melinda, don't let that bother you," etc. However, you aren't in my exact shoes. The shoes of a person who doesn't have any relatives alive that even know when my birthday is. Most people have an immediate family member (wife, husband, sister, kids, boyfriend, etc) who will remember your birthday, but I don't have that.

No one can understand truly, unless you are in the exact situation.

Some folks say they understand or can relate. Kinda irritates me, because I literally do not know one person in these exact well-worn shoes (I know they are out there, lol, I just don't personally know any).

Yes, I do have many Aunts and Uncles on the StepDad's side of the family, but they don't know when my birthday is. I love them and they love me, but we aren't that close to remember each other's birthdays. And to be fair, I don't know when their birthdays are, either. But they have large, immediate families to remember theirs.

A couple of years ago I lamented to a coworker about my birthday and her response was, "I saw on Instagram you had a lot of birthday dinners with friends!" Yea, I had to plan all of those dinners. No one reached out to me, I reached out to them. "Hey, it's my Birthday next week, want to go to dinner?" People should be careful what they see on social media - it's not always what you think.

However much I have been hurt about birthdays in the past, I am having some realizations as we move through this pandemic together. Some that I believe will alleviate some of this unhealthy pain. 

Or, maybe these feelings are here now in combination of not just the pandemic, but also because last year was my last "big" birthday?

Anyway.... before the pandemic, I lived and breathed by my printed calendar. It was an open-face calendar that displayed an entire month at a glance. Every December I would go through the new year's calendar and re-write all my friends birthdays down, or dates I wanted to remember for my friends - deathversary of loved ones, anniversaries, etc. 

When the pandemic started, I took that calendar home, but I didn't open it. Back at my desk in my office, I would keep it open to remind me of what important date was coming up for others. I would see it every day. Now, though, it's in a drawer in my kitchen. I simply just didn't open it for days, and that turned into weeks, and then months. And what did I find out? It's okay to not remember others' birthdays. And I FEEL okay not to remember birthdays.

It slapped me in the face that if one doesn't write down someone's birthday or have the want to remember other's birthdays, of course they wont remember it. It's nothing personal. It doesn't mean they don't love me or you. I went about 9 months without telling anyone Happy Birthday last year. At first, I honestly felt guilty because that's not who I am. But, I think I want to change that. Maybe I'm a little spiteful, but I think I need to stop trying to make others feel good about their birthdays, and just be okay with not being that person who always remembers birthdays, or reaches out on tough anniversaries, etc. It's not my responsibility to tell people Happy Birthday or be the one to remember when their loved one passed and how tough a certain day may be. Yes, I love to help people and want to make them feel remembered and special - it's a passion of mine - but it's okay if I don't. They have others around them to celebrate birthdays or give them hugs on tough days.

When I whine about birthdays, I start to think about my friend Dave. He wasn't close to any of his family members and hardly anyone knew when his birthday was. Did he care? He said he didn't. He could care less. It was just another day for him, all those 60-some years.

I wish I had that type of gene. 

Honestly, I do feel ashamed I took my birthdays so personal. No one is responsible for my life but me. My anti-depressant (of two years) has also helped my brain from taking things so personal. I wish I would have started this medication YEARS ago. It really has helped my chemical imbalance and I no longer cry in a corner wondering why I'm not hearing from people (seriously).

My apologies for whining and showing my true, deep feelings - it is pretty pathetic and it's something I should not EVER be concerned about again, right? 

(and yes, I know this is not a healthy way to look at things)

Well, I think I've had a breakthrough!

I am about to have another birthday in literally a week and I could care less to hear from anyone. And I am okay! Because I no longer have any milestone birthdays for anyone to forget/remember AND because I went through almost 9 months literally finally understanding the myth of birthdays, it hasn't crossed my mind once about my birthday and others in a week. Of course, I don't have to be disappointed no one asks me to dinner because we are in the middle of a pandemic, right? lol.

But, I really do feel different. 

I feel so differently after having these epiphanies about birthdays this past year, I almost don't want to post all of this; it doesn't seem to be 'me' anymore. But, it's okay to be vulnerable and honest. And it's okay to share feelings.

And don't worry - I still care for others and show it. It is a passion of mine, like I said. And I like to reach out to others to try and help during tough times or when something special happens. But, I just no longer focus so much on contacting people on certain dates. 

But, oh, hey, if I missed your birthday, Happy Birthday!