Sam and I went camping this weekend and did not return unscathed. We have never compiled more injuries on any camping trip until this one; among the injuries: battered shins, bee sting, thumb pierced by fish hook, bruised ass cheek, cut cheek (the regular non-ass kind), and a hatchet wound. Yes. There was wound caused via a hatchet. The bulk of these injuries happened to Sam in one swift, clumsy move. We all went hiking along the river to some rock slides. Sam, while holding his expensive boots (birthday gift from me) and a small camp shovel, slid down a slick rock and into the rushing water. The water pulled him backwards toward a small waterfall. I knew that the small waterfall led to a larger waterfall. I watched in absolute horror as Sam was pulled away. Out of my reach and out of my and his control. Sam is always in control of his physical self. He has lightning quick reflexes and amazing physical control of his body. I'm the one that trips going up stairs. I'm the one that fractured my skull after falling down stairs. I bump into the corners of walls, furniture, people, Squeaky. The fact that my skull is the only thing I've broken boggles my mind! I have no concept of rhythm and can't control my arms and legs simultaneously. I'm a walking accident waiting to happen at any given time. So the look on Sam's face, the look of un-control, scared me shitless. I was on the bank on the other side of the rock from where Sam fell in. I jumped in the cold water immediately and moved toward him. Our friend, Brian, was much closer and was able to grab him and pull him toward the bank. I watched as one of Sam's boots tumbled down a waterfall and out of my sight. Knowing that Sam was safe, I scampered back over rocks and trees, through the cold water, desperately looking for his boot to no avail. I went back over to Sam and kissed him hard on the lips. His shins were bleeding from the impact on the rock. His cheekbone was sliced and bruised. It actually made him look sexier. I didn't know that was possible, but yes Sam can surpass his current sexiness by getting scraped. It made him look rugged and dangerous. If we had been alone......................................................................
Anyway, we were then informed that this rush of scary white water that Sam fell into was the rock slide we were hiking towards all along! When I had pictured a rock slide, I had imagined a rock outcrop that has a small stream of water running over it. The rock would be smooth and one would slide down it and into a pool of water. This is not what this was at all. This would climbing over a slick rock (the one Sam fell down) over to another set of rocks and then pushing yourself forward into the scary mass of white water that would propel you in the direction of the freaking waterfall!!! Brian and his friend, Brad, did it. Sam then did it. Then it was my turn. I was told to kick my legs up so I wouldn't collide against a rock. Awesome. The proper leg position will save me from face planting on a rock. I don't possess the necessary coordination to maintain any proper position! But jump in, I did. The water immediately pushed me under and turned me around to the same backward position Sam was in. I wear contacts so I had to keep my eyes sealed shut and only opened them in squints just enough to see where I was going. I was caught by Brad and then Sam got a hold of me and got me over to the bank. I coughed up a lungful of river water and blinked my eyes clear. That was by far the stupidest thing I've ever willingly submitted myself to doing! But it was kind of fun in an I'm about to drown and they'll never find my body kind of way. After we had all recovered from our reckless adventures, we made our way to the bridge that crosses the large waterfall to see if we could spot Sam's boot. I figured it was a hopeless cause. I also decided that I would no longer buy Sam pretty things because he loses them. First he lost his wedding ring and now his boots. We all stood and looked around. Sara and Sam spotted something that resembled a boot. We scrambled down the path to where the boot-shaped object resided, stuck behind a rock. Sam went to retrieve it and sure enough, it was his boot!!! His boot had survived two waterfalls and was saved by a rock and the fact it too light to sink and too heavy to skim over everything and continue down the river. It's a wonderful boot, American made, and worth every freaking penny! I got it from Union Boot Pro and I can't recommend them enough! And I may still buy Sam the occasional pretty trinket.
We got back to the campsite and a bee took it upon itself to land on my pants right when I picked them up to hang up to dry. Apparently, it didn't like me moving it's landing zone so it stung me. Bitch. I've never been stung and I quickly found out that it really hurts. I'm not sure if I'm allergic but my mom is so I took a benedryl. Which meant that I needed a nap very soon afterwards. As I was drifting off into my antihistamine assisted slumber, I heard Sam yelp in pain. He apparently grabbed the small hatchet and somehow stabbed himself in the ankle. I was awake enough to realize he hurt himself but as soon as I knew he wasn't going to bleed to death, I passed out. I'm such a concerned wife. "Do we need to amputate? No? Ok. ZZZZZZZZ" The next day I found what appeared to be a more reasonable rock slide. A steady stream of water cascaded over a sloping rock that ended in a pool of water. There was no risk of white water or waterfalls in sight. So while Sam fished (the only thing he caught was my thumb from when I waded out into the water to untangle his line from a stick), I slid down. However, there was a small protrusion of rock that my ass impacted on the way down. So the last injury of the trip was my bruised bum.
At some point during this trip, I told Sam to stop being clumsy. That's my thing. It's what makes me special. He's sexy. I'm clumsy. It's not fair for him to steal my thunder. He told me I was contagious. Our future looks so bright and with shades of blue and purple that fade into a sickly yellow-green.
I'll add pictures of Sam retrieving his boot later.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Two Steps Back Equals 3 Years Back
In a perfect world, Sam and I would living on the hill in Lebanon, TN and working on getting pregnant. I would be working for some random company with a good insurance plan. Sam would be working as a physician's assistant (PA) somewhere close by, have great hours, and come home every evening where we could work on the whole pregnancy thing. Of all those dreams listed, the only one that is current reality is the good insurance. We live in Decatur, GA. Pregnancy right now would be a bad thing because Sam is still in school and working one night job and one weekend job. In looking at the steps needed to be taken for the PA track, our dream has been pushed to five years from now. If everything works out. Sam is currently in school to get his academic prerequisites for PA schools. He has two more semesters of that and he needs to take his GRE. Easy enough right? PA school is only 27 months long, he should be done in under 4 years, right? Wrong. Most PA schools require either 1000 or 2000 hours of direct human patient care in order to be considered for acceptance. Sam has 10 years of direct patient care experience...but in animals. It doesn't matter that Sam can place a catheter in a tiny dog's veins, veins smaller than a human child. It doesn't matter that Sam can carefully pick up an injured dog that weighs as much as me. It doesn't matter that Sam can perform his job gracefully while being covered in feces, urine, or vomit. He can calmly and quickly handle a patient that's natural reaction to pain and fear is to try and tear up the person caring for it. Sam can explain to the human caregiver what is going on. He can comfort a person who has just lost a loved one, a family member, an irreplaceable being. I've watched as Sam stoically held forceps in the same position for over 30 minutes while a Vet performed surgery. Because these animals aren't human, none of this experience carries weight. So what Sam will have to do after he is finished with the prereqs is to continue along a different path. He'll need to get certified in something else; like a surgical tech, or a patient care tech, or an LPN. All of these certifications take at least a year. Then, Sam has get hired on and work for longer than 6 months before applying to PA programs. Then we pray he gets accepted. Once he does get accepted, it's a 27-month long program. Afterwards, we need to try and sell the house, build our house on the hill, and get pregnant ASAP. Because at that point, I'll at least be 32. Yes, many women all of the world get pregnant just fine at 32. But, I would prefer to get all my fertility needs out of the way by 32, not need them at 32 and then again at 34. Ok, my whiny rant is officially over. I needed to get that written out and out of my thoughts. We just need to push forward and pray that my 32-year old eggs are still fresh and my uterus hasn't put up a closed for business sign.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Lessons from My Matriarchs
As you'll see, I started writing this last year but kept crying and couldn't finish it. I haven't looked at it again until today. I finally finished it but I may add stories about the other women in my life and maybe some photos. The three mentioned below are my direct matrilineal line.
My great-grandmother passed away Sunday night in her sleep and with her, an era ended. My mom is the new matriarch. I can't go to the funeral so in the memory and in the honor of my matriarchs, I decided to write about what I've learned from them.
Ora Evelynne Dick Brewer (0ct. 16, 1919-Nov. 14, 2011) "Granny Brewer"
Life was never easy for Ora. Her father was a man addicted to both alcohol and gambling. Her older brother ended up the same way. Her mother, Nora, was a beautiful 1/2 Lakota woman who was committed to an insane asylum when Ora was a child for reasons we don't know. Nora was dead before the age of 30, if my memory serves me correctly. Ora had every pretty thing she owned gambled away, including her porcelain dolls. What childhood she had was gone by the time she was 15 when she married my great-grandfather (Charlie), 12 years her senior. Charlie was a tall, dark, and handsome type with a wild side. He was over 6 feet tall with a strong, tanned Cherokee face, striking blue eyes, and thick blond hair. He married Ora cause she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and she made the best pies. I can understand what they saw in each other. She was young and pretty, he was taking her away from her dad. She was pregnant by the time she was 16, unbeknownst to her, with fraternal twins. Early on she miscarried one twin and just thought she wasn't pregnant anymore. She didn't understand what happened until she kept growing and realized she was still pregnant. She gave birth to my great-aunt Sandra and gave birth to my grandmother, Joe-Ann, two years later. Ora worked at a shirt factory for 30 years, she sold Avon, she kept up her home, raised two daughters, and dealt with her husband. She loved him fiercely and he was never an easy man to love.
Ora is one of the most complex people in my family. She was quiet and worked very hard but she was so very fragile. I always felt like her lack of childhood impacted her the most. After she ended up in a rest home, she started to paint beautiful landscapes. It was a skill no one knew she had. She told my mom, I think, that she used to paint as a little girl in school.
My Granny Brewer taught me to embrace. Embrace my childhood memories, embrace my independence, embrace my mom. Embrace the best things because they aren't always meant to last.
Joe Ann Brewer Staggs (February ,1938 - April 1, 2001) "Mama Joe"
My grandmother was everything. That is the simplest way to state it. She never had it easy but she fought. Charlie would come home drunk when Joe Ann was a teen and she got really tired of it. One night, after he passed out in the living room, she dragged him outside by his feet through the house, down the stairs, and into the outhouse. The dragging and banging around of his head apparently roused him from his stupor long enough for her to tell him, "You belong out here with the shit." Charlie didn't come home home drunk again. Joe Ann was tall and athletic with black hair and pretty green eyes. At the age of 20, she married one of the most amazing men in the world, Bobby. He was her balance. She had a fiery temper, he never raised his voice. She wasn't a morning person, he woke up singing to her. They did everything together and loved each other intensely. Joe Ann worked hard and could do anything with her hands. She could fix your hair, sew your clothes, cook you the most amazing food, and wrap you up in one of her hand sewn quilts and give you a bear hug that would make your ribs crack. She could also hunt, play softball, and keep her three rowdy sons in line. She helped her husband fight when he was diagnosed with cancer. She kept fighting until his last breath. She was never the same after that, but she kept fighting, and working, and loving. When she died, a part of us all died. Sometimes when I think about it, I can't catch my breath.
From Mama Joe I learned to always keep fighting and keep loving. And to never do anything half way.
Sheree Sue Staggs Bland
Sheree got the best from Joe Ann and Bobby. She fights just like Joe Ann but she smiles and sings badly just like Bobby. Looking at her though, you wouldn't ever guess she came from them. She has reddish-brown hair, freckles, and Charlie's piercing blue eyes. Apparently the Native American traits stopped with her parents. Sheree had a laid back attitude but she stands up for herself and her family with Joe Ann's intensity. She has an infectious laugh and a sweet voice. People tell me I sound like her. I tell them that I'm not sweet enough to sound like my mom. Her and my Dad, Jimmy, have the best relationship ever. They, like Joe Ann and Bobby, balance each other out. Sheree can talk to anyone like they are an old friend. Jimmy is more shy around people he doesn't know. Jimmy can get worked up and Sheree can calm him down. She knows something is wrong before I answer her phone call. Even though she wasn't with me when I fractured my skull, she knew something bad had happened and rushed home. She knows what to say and when not to say a word. She gave my husband something he never had, a true mother. She knew before I did that I needed to marry a country boy. She taught me to be brave and physically pushed me in Sam's direction the day I met him. She knows me better than I do. Being away from her and my dad, I crave their hugs. I miss seeing the way my mom's eyes light up when she smiles. She talks with her hands and has the most infectious laugh. My mom has taught me so much that it is hard to verbalize. I know that whatever parts of me that are good, it's because of her. If I'm a good wife, it's because of her. If I am a good mother in the future, it's because of her.
My matriarchs have shown me so many lessons in loving and living. I owe so much to them and to the women that came before them. I hope to pass down to the future generations what has been given so generously and graciously to me. I love you, Granny Brewer. I love you, Mama Joe. I love you, Mom, so very much!
My great-grandmother passed away Sunday night in her sleep and with her, an era ended. My mom is the new matriarch. I can't go to the funeral so in the memory and in the honor of my matriarchs, I decided to write about what I've learned from them.
Ora Evelynne Dick Brewer (0ct. 16, 1919-Nov. 14, 2011) "Granny Brewer"
Life was never easy for Ora. Her father was a man addicted to both alcohol and gambling. Her older brother ended up the same way. Her mother, Nora, was a beautiful 1/2 Lakota woman who was committed to an insane asylum when Ora was a child for reasons we don't know. Nora was dead before the age of 30, if my memory serves me correctly. Ora had every pretty thing she owned gambled away, including her porcelain dolls. What childhood she had was gone by the time she was 15 when she married my great-grandfather (Charlie), 12 years her senior. Charlie was a tall, dark, and handsome type with a wild side. He was over 6 feet tall with a strong, tanned Cherokee face, striking blue eyes, and thick blond hair. He married Ora cause she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and she made the best pies. I can understand what they saw in each other. She was young and pretty, he was taking her away from her dad. She was pregnant by the time she was 16, unbeknownst to her, with fraternal twins. Early on she miscarried one twin and just thought she wasn't pregnant anymore. She didn't understand what happened until she kept growing and realized she was still pregnant. She gave birth to my great-aunt Sandra and gave birth to my grandmother, Joe-Ann, two years later. Ora worked at a shirt factory for 30 years, she sold Avon, she kept up her home, raised two daughters, and dealt with her husband. She loved him fiercely and he was never an easy man to love.
Ora is one of the most complex people in my family. She was quiet and worked very hard but she was so very fragile. I always felt like her lack of childhood impacted her the most. After she ended up in a rest home, she started to paint beautiful landscapes. It was a skill no one knew she had. She told my mom, I think, that she used to paint as a little girl in school.
My Granny Brewer taught me to embrace. Embrace my childhood memories, embrace my independence, embrace my mom. Embrace the best things because they aren't always meant to last.
Joe Ann Brewer Staggs (February ,1938 - April 1, 2001) "Mama Joe"
My grandmother was everything. That is the simplest way to state it. She never had it easy but she fought. Charlie would come home drunk when Joe Ann was a teen and she got really tired of it. One night, after he passed out in the living room, she dragged him outside by his feet through the house, down the stairs, and into the outhouse. The dragging and banging around of his head apparently roused him from his stupor long enough for her to tell him, "You belong out here with the shit." Charlie didn't come home home drunk again. Joe Ann was tall and athletic with black hair and pretty green eyes. At the age of 20, she married one of the most amazing men in the world, Bobby. He was her balance. She had a fiery temper, he never raised his voice. She wasn't a morning person, he woke up singing to her. They did everything together and loved each other intensely. Joe Ann worked hard and could do anything with her hands. She could fix your hair, sew your clothes, cook you the most amazing food, and wrap you up in one of her hand sewn quilts and give you a bear hug that would make your ribs crack. She could also hunt, play softball, and keep her three rowdy sons in line. She helped her husband fight when he was diagnosed with cancer. She kept fighting until his last breath. She was never the same after that, but she kept fighting, and working, and loving. When she died, a part of us all died. Sometimes when I think about it, I can't catch my breath.
From Mama Joe I learned to always keep fighting and keep loving. And to never do anything half way.
Sheree Sue Staggs Bland
Sheree got the best from Joe Ann and Bobby. She fights just like Joe Ann but she smiles and sings badly just like Bobby. Looking at her though, you wouldn't ever guess she came from them. She has reddish-brown hair, freckles, and Charlie's piercing blue eyes. Apparently the Native American traits stopped with her parents. Sheree had a laid back attitude but she stands up for herself and her family with Joe Ann's intensity. She has an infectious laugh and a sweet voice. People tell me I sound like her. I tell them that I'm not sweet enough to sound like my mom. Her and my Dad, Jimmy, have the best relationship ever. They, like Joe Ann and Bobby, balance each other out. Sheree can talk to anyone like they are an old friend. Jimmy is more shy around people he doesn't know. Jimmy can get worked up and Sheree can calm him down. She knows something is wrong before I answer her phone call. Even though she wasn't with me when I fractured my skull, she knew something bad had happened and rushed home. She knows what to say and when not to say a word. She gave my husband something he never had, a true mother. She knew before I did that I needed to marry a country boy. She taught me to be brave and physically pushed me in Sam's direction the day I met him. She knows me better than I do. Being away from her and my dad, I crave their hugs. I miss seeing the way my mom's eyes light up when she smiles. She talks with her hands and has the most infectious laugh. My mom has taught me so much that it is hard to verbalize. I know that whatever parts of me that are good, it's because of her. If I'm a good wife, it's because of her. If I am a good mother in the future, it's because of her.
My matriarchs have shown me so many lessons in loving and living. I owe so much to them and to the women that came before them. I hope to pass down to the future generations what has been given so generously and graciously to me. I love you, Granny Brewer. I love you, Mama Joe. I love you, Mom, so very much!
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Gay Marriage
How does gay marriage negatively affect my marriage? It doesn't. The legalization of gay marriage has absolutely no impact on my heterosexual marriage. Sam and I will continue living our straight married life peacefully. If anything, the legalization of marriage will just make our social life busier with the flurry of invites that would come. Our wallet may get a bit thinner from all the gifts to be purchased off what would have to be the most amazing wedding registries, ever! I might grow a bit jealous of the amazingly beautiful ceremonies that will surpass my own. But my heart will grow bigger and fuller of love at the beautiful vows that are finally able to be expressed. The sanctity of marriage wouldn't be attacked, it would just evolve. Couples that have been together longer than I've been alive would finally be able to say the two words that most straight people have taken for granted, "I do." Gay people in hospital waiting rooms would have the same courtesies given to straight people. When Sam had his hip replacement surgery, I was able to be with Sam until it was time to roll him away. I was the one that signed paperwork. The surgeon came and spoke to me. I stayed by his bed every night. Had we been a gay couple, the surgeon would only be able to speak to next of kin. A gay partner in a lot of places is not considered the next of kin, they are just legally a friend. As a gay couple, your legal rights are slim. And that is not right. As a married woman, the federal government gives me over 1,000 rights. All gay people are asking for are those same rights. What I'm asking for, is that gay people are given the same rights that Sam and I have been rewarded.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Vanity
I have decided that if you have a vanity plate on your car, I don't like you. I was behind PRECIUS today and the desire to hit her came upon me so quick I thought I was having early-onset hot flashes. First off, the way you've spelled the word indicates that it would be pronounced
press-ee-us, which sounds like the bastard cousin of the Prius. Secondly, if you feel the need to inform all of Atlanta that you think you are precious, you probably aren't.
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