tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40482962509475631722024-03-04T23:57:40.490-06:00My Inner Self and All the Others Too.A place where all my personalities meet. Sometimes there will be just random thoughts, a question I am pondering, or complete chaos. Other times, you may meet one of the folks floating around in my head, wonder how I function daily, or think to yourself, "this chick is nuts!" It's where I just vent, babble, clear out the cobwebs, and attempt to regain sanity and control the craziness inside my head*. Feel free to follow, comment, and invite friends. Welcome to my life!Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-49808852180107519472013-01-27T12:05:00.000-06:002013-01-27T12:05:28.698-06:00HEARTBREAK AND HEROES<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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While some of you may know about the boating accident my daughter was involved in last spring, others of you do not. You can read past blog entries to learn what happened to our family on the night of May 19, 2012 to understand better what you are about to read.</div>
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In the months that have followed that night, my daughter has accepted her loss and has tried to focus on the life that has been left for her. She is still healing physically, after three surgeries to heal her broken leg and while she struggles emotionally, at times, she is strong and remains positive.</div>
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In December, more tragedy struck this group of friends. The drivers of the two boats, also her friends, were charged in the case. While that, in itself, was devastating to them and my daughter, there is now a no contact order between all of them. This is horrific to my daughter as that is two more friends she feels she has lost. They have petitioned the court to allow them to see each other, but the reporting and the prosecution calls my daughter a victim, and calls her friends criminals which has lead to an unnecessary ugliness. This was a horrifying accident! It has hurt our family and families of those we love. All the kids on that boat were extremely close and the whole situation is disrespectful to the love they shared. And, while, yes, there are those who believe differently than I do, I am appalled at those feelings being applied to me and my daughter.</div>
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The following is a letter I recently wrote to our local paper, with my feelings on the case. I am sharing it here to perhaps reach more people, but to also explain my absence on this blog. My mind is occupied. My heart is heavy. I don't like negativity and, while we remain positive for the most part, we are still heartbroken and I fear more heartbreak is to come. Thanks for letting me share this letter and, though, I know some of it's content you won't understand, I hope it's underlying meaning is clear.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Judge Michael Shilling “ponders boat case requests”, I am
pondering whether or not I should even write this letter. My head tells me I am
writing out of anger, but my heart encourages me that I am doing the right
thing. So, while my head will guide my hand, my heart will lend the words. Let
me add that it is not my intent to hurt anybody, but there are times when the
truth hurts and I will only speak the truth-from my heart and that of my
daughter.</div>
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There have been many articles written in The Hawkeye about
the boating accident last spring. Most recent, of course, are those written by
Andy Hoffman concerning the charges against and impending trial of Doug Metcalf
and Joey Schier. In those articles, the word victim is used freely. I am
opposed to that reference and appalled that my daughter is included in it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, while I am not blaming Mr. Hoffman, as he
is quoting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the Assistant County
Attorney, Jennifer Bailey, I am addressing him, as good reporting would require
investigating the stories, wouldn’t it?</div>
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So, I ask you, Mr. Hoffman, have you ever MET my daughter?
Do you even know her name? Do you know what happened to her that night? Are you
aware of her relationship with those we lost? Do you know her relationship with
Doug or Joey? The same question is directed to Jennifer Bailey. </div>
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Have you ever thought about what she thinks about every day?
Ever think about what she feels when she reads about her friends being called
criminals and then finds herself being called a victim? Do you think about what
it feels like to be a <b>survivor</b> in this case? Do you really think you are making
that a good thing? You are NOT!</div>
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Do you know how she feels to be told how lucky she is? Do
you think for one minute that my daughter feels LUCKY? Not a day goes by that
she doesn’t think about the families of and her friends she lost. Not a day
goes by that I don’t think of them. There is a pain in those moments that you
will never know!</div>
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I know there are many people who say I would feel different
if my daughter had not survived and yes, I would feel different. My heart would
be broken for life. But, I would not be selfish in the way I honored her
memory. Through a broken heart, I would honor her memory by fighting for her
friends in the way she would want me to. She got on that boat with free will
and I know my daughter and I know what she would have wanted. She would have wanted
her friends to be supported. She would not want them blamed. And she would have
wanted me to stand in support in her absence.</div>
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She lost four of her friends that night. Four people that
she loved very much were taken from her. Not by Doug or Joey, but by God. In a
tragic, mind shattering, life changing, and heart breaking moment, her friends were
gone. Nothing will change that. Putting Doug and Joey on trial will not change
that. It won’t change the memory of it. It won’t teach a lesson. It won’t bring
them back and it doesn’t honor their memory.</div>
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Now, she has lost two more friends. She can’t see or talk to
them? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What kind of compassion is that?
How is that helping my daughter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is
that helping any of us? What do you really think Doug or Joey is going to do?
My Lord, they are FRIENDS! They are not enemies who have to fear each other. Do
you think Doug or Joey would pursue talking to people that don’t want them
around? No, they would not. But, those of us who love them want to see them. </div>
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I was there the night of the accident. In the hours after
the accident and in the days after. I saw pain. I saw hurt. I saw love. You
can’t take that away, Mr. Hoffman or Ms. Bailey. No matter how ugly a picture
you try to paint by writing your articles or pursuing putting Doug and Joey on
trial. I know the truth. I saw it. You have no idea what these kids went
through. And through their pain, they were there for my daughter, every single
day, making her smile and letting her cry. And crying with her. You can’t write
about that kind of love by calling them victims. Or criminals. You can only use
the word FRIENDS. </div>
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Also, Mr. Hoffman, when you state in the paper, that “no
other witnesses or families of the victims were present”, it implies that it
was our choice not to attend. The reporting also implies that ALL the families
want no contact, want prosecution, and want “justice”. So, as a family member,
a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RIVER RATS 12 MOM to be precise, let
me state for the record, on the record, and for all to know, I am NOT made
aware of any of the hearings, asked to participate, nor have I EVER been asked
what I want, what I feel, or what I believe to be justice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Notice they are called the RIVER RATS 12. Not TEN! NOT
EIGHT! NOT SIX! They are the RIVER RATS TWELVE! Did you know that? Our
community did that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were 12 kids that night. She’s NOT a victim. She’s a
friend. And yes, she is a survivor. Please, let that be a good thing. Let these
kids move on and honor their friends. They were ALL friends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, and one more thing. My daughter’s name is Jennifer Parcel,
and her life was saved that night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And,
so was Doug’s. And Rene’s, Katie’s, and Chris’. Want to know by whom? Michael
Shea, Jed Thomas, and… Joey Schier!! That doesn’t sound like victims or
criminals to me…sounds like heroes!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kimberly J. Coleman <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Mother of Jennifer Parcel of
the RIVER RATS 12</div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-45248858793509826562012-08-25T19:04:00.000-05:002012-08-25T20:14:10.247-05:00My Innocent Father<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not the story of a man wrongly accused of a crime,
nor is it a story about how the system failed him. Instead, this is the story
of how my father, a 55-year-old shy rock and roller from Southeast Iowa
withstood being convicted of a crime. The nature of that crime is irrelevant;
as are the months leading up to his conviction. The relevance is my father
himself-his reaction to his sentence, his subsequent years in prison, and his
overwhelming love for life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a family, we were scared. Petrified he would die in
there. So many horrible prison stories played out in our minds. We were angry.
We were in denial. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my father never
showed that to us. He was strong. He accepted his sentence and worked with the
warden, who despite the laws surrounding him, tried to help keep his punishment
manageable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He first ordered that privileges be removed. It was
difficult for Dad to lose such an important part of life. Visits were still
allowed but kept to a minimum. The first six months were horrible. Dad was
physically drained and the stress was evident. He lost his taste for food. He
lost weight. The rules in Dad’s prison were that the hair goes. While Dad has
been balding for some time, what little he had left he hated to part with, but
he did. He begged and prayed they would let him keep the beard. Oddly, they
did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad never lost his sense of humor. He would not complain
though we knew it was hard for him. His cell mates would come and go. Some were
physically abusive. They would keep him awake at night. His sleep cycle was
damaged and he became exhausted. Some of his cellmates caused emotional
turmoil. They messed with his mind and caused him undue mental anguish. And
some were just irritating. Just a constant reminder of the prison he was in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, again, he never complained. He joked about them
sometimes. They became companions’ almost-like neighbors you can’t get to move-
so he learned to live with them. Occasionally, he would get a quiet one. And he
would sleep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the first year or so, he was used to his surroundings.
Used to the guards and the other prisoners. The food still tasted bad and he
would pass up a meal here and there. He wrote a lot. He became friends with the
warden. Together, they began working on a plan for freedom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the five year mark, it looked like Dad was on the road to
release. He looked good. He had started eating again and the warden and him
were pleased with the way the system was treating him. There was a report of
time for good behavior. Release was about to happen. We were close.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a family we could not have been happier. My children were
young when this began and didn’t even know Grandpa beyond the walls of his
prison. Although he was the same man in or out, there was that sadness around
him that would only go away with freedom. We would rejoice in that freedom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The news came and we did rejoice. Freedom was a lovely
thing. But, he wasn’t set completely free. He was still a convicted man. The
crime or sentence had not been taken. The only change was the walls that
surrounded him. He was paroled only. One false move and he would go back. We
knew the risk. We ran with it. We were ecstatic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our family was complete again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then it happened. The news came at a routine probation
meeting that his parole was being revoked. There was no warning. No indication
that this was coming.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad went back to prison. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
New privileges were removed. And, new restraints were used.
Again, he lost weight. He became depressed. But he never complained. He never
lost his love of life. He never wanted pity. He was happy to be alive. It
didn’t matter where he lived.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He went to solitary confinement and for 85 days, he was poked
and prodded by guards. Taunted by them in a way that scarred him for life.
Physical signs of the pain he endured could be seen by the eye. The tire in his
voice was clear. But, again he never complained. He never felt sorry for
himself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he got out of solitary, he couldn’t decide if he wanted
the fizz of a Pepsi tickling his nose or the sweet taste of orange sherbet
caressing his palate. That’s what he thought of. Not of the pain inflicted on him.
Not the anger that should have been directed to the new warden that put him
there, or at the guards who furthered the error of the system. No, he wanted the
goodness in life. The good that he could always see, hear, and want.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The good that is in him. No matter what. That is what he
shares with his family and friends. He talks about his prison life-not in a
“feel sorry for me” kind of way, but, in a “this is my life and I love living”
kind of way. He is happy to wake up every day. He is happy to love his children
and his grandchildren. He is happy to love his wife; the girl of his dreams-his
angel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is a happy man and has lived a happy life. Even from
prison.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been fifteen years. He is still in prison. He just
turned 70. He said it was the best birthday ever. He said the love of his
family and friends made him the happiest man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad’s prison is cancer. And for fifteen years we have lived
outside the walls that Dad lives within, sharing his love for life and his
optimism to fight. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not the story of a man wrongly accused of a crime.
It’s the story of my father, a shy rock and roller from Southeast Iowa who has
showed his friends and family how to live. How to live good and strong despite
being surrounded by the walls of cancer.<br />
<br />
Until next time...<br />
Dream Big<br />
~Kimberly </div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-61215054699314867292012-06-02T15:51:00.001-05:002012-06-03T02:35:05.986-05:00Hardest Post Ever<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"> Note to Reader: The following post is a very long and a detailed account of the events in my life on the evening of my daughter's recent boat accident and the days that followed. It may be disturbing to some and is no way the humorous posts I try to include in this blog. There may be more posts on this topic later but this will be the only one concerning the actual accident. This event was a tragedy in our community and devastating to our life but I needed to share it. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you.</span></b></h2>
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This may be-- NO-- it WILL be, the most difficult post to date. My friends and family, and those who follow me closely on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/justsippy" target="_blank">Twitter</a> or<a href="http://on.fb.me/mEnITN" target="_blank"> Facebook</a>, will know exactly what this post is about. To those of you who may be new to this blog, or only follow me here, need an intro. Here is the topic:<br />
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<br /></div>
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<i>My daughter's recent boat accident, in which she was injured, some of her friends were injured, and four of her friends were killed.</i></div>
<br />
While this <a href="http://www.thehawkeye.com/story/Boat-crash-web-051912" target="_blank">accident</a> shook our town, angered some, devastated others, and opened the eyes of many, it was more than that to me. I will not discuss how or why this accident happened. I will not answer questions anybody has about how or why this accident happened.<br />
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I am not God, therefore I do not know. And that is not what I am here to do. </div>
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It happened. End of story. </div>
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Nobody was at fault. Nobody is to blame.</div>
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It was a freak accident that could have happened to anyone. </div>
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To your son, your daughter, your sister, brother, friend, or even, yourself. </div>
<br />
I am writing as a mom. And, as a mom, I have made many mistakes. Mistakes that I struggle with daily. But, some of those same mistakes are also choices. Choices, I make, fully aware, they may not be what "most moms" would do. Things like, let my children live at home after 18, without going to college, without paying what some would consider "fair" rent, and allowing them to stay out to all hours of the night, and basically taking all the brunt of the struggle, as a single Mom, to stay afloat financially, and stay balanced mentally, while my kids, "do whatever they want".<br />
My doctor recently told me to start saying "No" and rid myself of stress. HA! To me, it is more stressful to say "no" and wonder how they will get what they need or who they will get to babysit (yes, a couple have kids of their own), or where they will end up for the night, what they will eat, and who will befriend them.<br />
As a mom, I am a worrier. I worry about whether they oversleep, get laid off, go without a meal, or run out of gas. I worry whether they have a cell phone they can afford, a car to drive or cable to watch. I worry about everything. I worry about things that are, considered by some, NOT my responsibility anymore.<br />
<br />
I have friends and family who say I shouldn't do it. I should make them fend for themselves. I should make them take responsibility. And that I should take care of ME.<br />
They say I am not teaching them anything.<br />
That I am not "helping" them.<br />
<br />
I tell those friends (and sometimes family) that it's okay because I have rules, too. They are good kids. They KNOW what I expect. They text me when they are home safe; call when staying with friends, but more than that, they are good people. Kind to others, thoughtful of each other, and loyal to our family and to their friends. That is more important to me than having them give me half their check.<br />
Do I want them to go to college? Of course, I do. Do I want them to have more than I have had and wish they wouldn't have to struggle? Sure. But, I want them happy. Able to talk to me about anything and know that I am always here for them and believe in them. I want them to know I love them and am proud of them, under any, and all circumstances. <br />
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Do I get angry with their choices? Sometimes. Do they hurt my feelings? Yes. Do I hold it against them? No. Do they cause me undue stress and worry? Everyday. Do I regret the way I have raised them? Not at all.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
This is why...<br />
<br />
On Friday, May 18, 2012, I came home from work and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up around 1:40 am went to bed. Around 15 minutes later, around 2 am on Saturday, May 19, 2012, I received a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. Somewhat groggy from sleeping, I answered it.<br />
My daughter's voice was distraught and while I was not clear as to why, she said needed a ride. Just a ride.<br />
"Mom! I need a ride. Now! I need to go!"<br />
"Where are you?"<br />
"I don't know but I need to go." She is known in our family as being dramatic. And I, thinking there had been a disagreement at a party, asked again, "where are you?"<br />
"I don't know. Mom, I need a ride." she seemed angry-frantic even, "and I'm pretty sure I broke my leg."<br />
"Okay, I doubt you broke your leg" I rolled my eyes at the phone and felt annoyance at her unnecessary urgency. "but where ARE you?"<br />
"I don't know!" she said to me, "Where are we?" she said to others with her.<br />
Nobody answered her. She said it again, more frantic. Again no answer, yet I could hear people and commotion. I was getting more annoyed and even angry. Fully awake now and realizing I would have to drag my 2 year old granddaughter out of bed to go get her, I demanded to know her whereabouts.<br />
"WHERE in the hell ARE you, Jennifer!?"<br />
"I don't know, Mom." and again to someone else, "where are we? Tell my mom where we are."<br />
More commotion. More inaudible voices. Rustling. A male voice. A voice I did not know and one that did not identify. I didn't want to talk to him. I was angry that he wouldn't tell my daughter where she was and wouldn't tell me who he was. I heard him say to others,<br />
"I can't talk to this woman. She won't listen to me."<br />
Imagine the anger in me then. The nerve of him.<br />
Suddenly a woman...<br />
"Ma'am. There has been a serious boat accident!" Clarity. I knew my daughter was on the river. Her unknown whereabouts, a broken leg, her voice, her need to come home. It made sense.<br />
"Oh my God. Where is she? Where is Jennifer?"<br />
After directions were given and I knew the proximity, I told the woman I would head that way.<br />
I called my older, married son to stay with my granddaughter, I grabbed my keys and paced. I paced waiting for him to come. I called my other daughter who was 20 minutes away. She also thought her sister was being dramatic at first, but called back as soon as she realized I didn't say how her sister was. By this time, she had realized, she knew others on that same boat. Several others. I told her I had no details, but there was an accident and they ended up on shore at someone's cabin. She said she was headed home.<br />
The woman called back.<br />
"Jennifer wants to talk to you." I stopped her and told her how dramatic Jennifer can be and could she tell me what was really going on.<br />
"Oh, this isn't dramatic. This is serious. It's very bad. Water rescue is here looking for the missing and-"<br />
"MISSING?" I interrupted her. "There are people missing? WHO is missing?"<br />
I was frantic to know which of my daughter's friends were not accounted for. Why, I still do not know. And, I still have guilt over asking....as if it mattered. One was not more important than any other but I wanted names, nonetheless.<br />
"I don't know, Ma'am. They just woke us up. It's bad. She's wet, you know, so she was cold, but we got her a blanket. We are keeping her warm."<br />
She fell in the water? I thought. Did I think that as if it hadn't yet occurred to me? Yes, I did.<br />
Thinking back now, the fact that she was wet almost gave me indication that it was bad. I realized she had gone in the water and, for an instant, I realized the impact, but it didn't stay with me. Not at all. I told my son who came to stay with the baby,<br />
"I'm gonna go get Jennifer. I will be right back."<br />
As I left my apartment and drove toward Main Street, which borders our riverfront and would take me to the highway leading to my daughter, about 10 minutes away, my phone rang.<br />
"They are taking Jennifer to the hospital in the ambulance. They are loading her onto the stretcher, now."<br />
"Oh." I said, surprised as if I had forgotten why I was going. "well, I will meet her there then." as if it were just a simple change of plans.<br />
I drove a block closer to the river so I could turn around and head the other direction. I was taken by surprise at what I saw. As far as I could see along our riverfront were lights. Ambulance, fire, police, red cross, coast guard. All of it. I pulled into a parking stall to call Jessica, now frantically en route home.<br />
"Jessica. I am by the river. There are lights and sirens everywhere. The helicopter is spotlighting the river. People are missing! They are taking Jennifer by ambulance. Go to the hospital. People are missing!"<br />
She already knew. Her boyfriends cousin was on the boat and possibly missing. A co-worker was either missing or in bad shape at the hospital, according to a friend. She was driving 80 mph trying to get to her sister. I told her to meet me at the hospital. She said she was stopping at the scene first as she would be passing it soon anyway.<br />
I went to the hospital.<br />
<br />
Have you ever had to go somewhere quickly and it feels like the world has stopped? When your car just won't go fast enough. And, a few miles seems like across the state? In the 8 minute drive to the hospital, all the worst possible scenarios went through my mind. All the horror of what happened, how scared she must be, how awful it was and that there were missing kids. I prayed they were not missing but that it was just dark and they couldn't see them in the confusion that must have been happening.<br />
As I arrived at the hospital, my daughter, Jessica, called from the scene, unable to get close enough and frantic her sister was in the helicopter she saw taking off for Iowa City. Anyone from here knows that is not good. The Med Vac is NOT something you want to see. I told her that Jennifer was not there yet. No information about the helecopter's occupants could be given.<br />
"How will I know if my daughter went to Iowa City?" I asked the first ER attendant I saw.<br />
"When she doesn't show up here." the nurse said and ran to another room to prepare for the chaos about to befall them.<br />
"Jessica, I hear sirens. An ambulance is coming. Please get here."<br />
"I need to know if Jennifer is in that ambulance!" She was frantic. I swear she thought she could follow it, by car, if her sister was in it, and probably would have tried.<br />
I waited and tried to see who came out. Between the neck brace and blankets, I could not tell. I ran into the building once again. The same nurse who rushed away, now rushed toward me.<br />
"It's her!" she said<br />
Jessica heard and said she was on her way and I ran after the nurse.<br />
"Stay calm", she said as she led me to my daughter.<br />
<br />
They were already cutting off her clothes by the time I got to the room. A large pear sized bump on her ankle proved to me she had indeed broken her leg. Scared, crying, wide-eyed, wet, cold, and complaining she didn't need a neck brace, she called out.<br />
"Mom? Is that my mom?" I could hear movement in her voice. Without seeing her under and amidst the medical team working on her, I could "hear" her move her head and try to sit up. They stopped her and stressed to her not to move.<br />
The smell of river water and mud came from her as she reached for my hand. I took it and it was cold and clammy. Medical personnel worked on each side of her. Cutting her hoodie, her jeans, her shirt, her panties, her bra. She worried about them cutting her jeans. They were new. And her bra. Her only one. (If that didn't send guilt pulsing through me...only one bra? What kind of mother, am I?)<br />
She looked at me, finally. Not knowing what happened or being clear about what happened, she said she remembered hitting the water.<b> </b>She covered her face.<br />
"Mom, I'm so sorry." she looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry for scaring you." <br />
<br />
The rest of the events that unfolded are a blur of events, out of order and overlapping. We knew there were missing kids and, by eliminating who we had seen in the ER, we soon knew which ones. There were four. One girl and three boys. All good friends. Close friends. Jessica's boyfriend's cousin was one; as was their good friend and co-worker. Jennifer did not know about her four friends. She claimed early on that nobody was missing. We couldn't tell her she was wrong. The injured came one by one to the hospital. Soon, their progress and whereabouts; X-ray, CAT Scan, MRI, was openly talked about. One by one they were treated, kept, released...and it didn't take long for my daughter to start asking questions. Questions about the ones we weren't talking about.<br />
"Where's Katie? How's Katie?!" her eyes were pleading with me to answer and I did. I explained Katie had been taken to Iowa City but, said there was no room there when she asked why. She would forgive me for that fib later. <br />
I made sure anyone entering her room knew she did not know her friends were missing. I did not feel she was in any shape to hear that news yet. She needed to be strong until her own injuries were assessed and treated.<br />
In the hours that followed she continued to remember.<br />
"I really thought I was going to drown. You know how you start to
run out of air but you blow it out a little? I was doing that-I couldn't
feel the top. I was running out of air. My leg wouldn't work. But, I used my arms. Then I came up." she stared at the ceiling. "But, I couldn't swim. I don't swim good
anyway and my leg wouldn't work." she looked at me then, out the corner of her eye. "Michael! Michael was there. He saved me. Him and Jed. They
got me in the boat cause I couldn't do it. Jed pulled me into the boat. And Joey. He carried me to
land. And he put me by the tree."<br />
I could tell she was
remembering as she talked. "They saved me, Mom." she cried then.<br />
She went for her own CAT Scan to eliminate internal injuries. She went to X-ray to see the damage to the leg and check for other broken bones. She came back tired, with a need to sleep. Only her leg was broken. Her neck brace came off and she was indebted to the medical staff member who did it.<br />
More results of others' injuries came to light. Shattered shoulder, whiplash, and a couple treated and released. The friend who helped her into the boat did so with a broken pelvis. Her friend in Iowa City, it was reported, may or may not lose an arm, but would survive.<br />
But, sadly, no word from the riverfront. Nothing but rumors, that is. Rumors began pouring into the hospital waiting room, via facebook and texts. Rumors about injuries that didn't exist and deaths that had not occurred. There needed to be a spokesperson to set people straight or inform those who didn't know, but, we did not have one so the rumors continued to grow.<br />
On the riverfront, many friends had banded together, in their private vessels, to go search for their missing friends. Searching islands and the shore, hoping that they had chosen a different bank for safety. In my mind I just kept thinking the coming daylight would find them jumping up and down on an island waving to the many boats searching for them. My hope faded when I realized it had been daylight for an hour and a half.<br />
While my daughter knew of her friends in the hospital with her and their conditions, and she knew the condition of her friend in Iowa City, she noticed she hadn't heard some names. One by one, she asked for all her missing friends. Not giving me time to answer, she rattled their names off twice, with a "Where are..." in front.<br />
I looked at her sister Jessica and even though she shook her head "No", I could not knowingly keep it from Jennifer. I could not lie. I knew she would know and would not forgive me. I had to tell her.<br />
"Honey, they don't know where they are." I looked right at her. "they can't find them." I sensed she didn't understand."They are still in the water."<br />
I will not write about the devastating heartbreak that caused her. I will not describe the sadness, the anger, the guilt or the frustration in her. I will not provide any more details of the events that followed.<br />
Her friends were missing. That's it. And as a mom, there was nothing I could do. I couldn't make it different. I couldn't make the hurt stop. I couldn't do a thing, but cry. I cried with her. I agreed with her that it was unacceptable. I agreed that it wasn't fair.<br />
The chaplain was nearby and came into her room.<br />
"Let me pray for you." she said to Jennifer.<br />
"NO! Don't pray for me. Pray for my friends."<br />
And, they did.<br />
<br />
The next 12 hours were a blur. A barrage of calls, texts, rumors, falsities, tears, hugs, nurses, visitors, questions...the list is endless.<br />
Friends and family came and went, giving their love and support. Some giving updates of the reality they knew was going on at the river. Saturday night was restless. She was in pain, both physically and emotionally. I was in a fog. Reality wasn't even an option for me at that point. I slept next to her bed in the chair. I woke each time the nurse came in, each time she moved, and each time the light of the TV changed.<br />
Morning came quickly. I woke first. Coffee was needed and the nurse made me some. The first call came in around 11. They had found two of the missing. I called Jessica so she wouldn't hear the news and think it to be rumor. This, I knew, was truth. I woke up Jennifer.<br />
One of the two was their friend and co-worker, Caitlyn. Both of my girls had known her for years as they all worked together and became good friends outside of work. Jennifer told me how much alike they were. Their love of animals had bonded them and just the week before they had gone on a drive in the country and stopped to look at some horses. She was Lil' Caitlyn to them and their love for her was eternal. The sadness was unbearable. The other found was the cousin of Jessica's boyfriend. <br />
It wasn't long that word came that the remaining two friends had also been found. Officially, all four had been found by afternoon on Sunday. <br />
None of them survived.<br />
<br />
That day, as the day before, was full. The emotional pain evident and unconsolable and the physical pain, while somewhat controlled by meds, was constant. She slept often. Sometimes, in mid conversation, she would sleep. Memories emerged. She remembered and she talked about them.Visitors came.They brought flowers, cards, cookies, candy, balloons, and stuffed animals. Our family came, one by one, to give encouragement, love and sympathy. She laughed and she cried.<br />
And, as she received love and support from family, what she received from her friends amazed me. There is a bond with these kids that I have not seen in all my life. A love for each other that goes beyond regular friendship. And, each time I excused myself to take a break, I would come back to a room full of more love and friendship. They laughed. They cried. They talked. Sometimes they just sat there without saying a word.<br />
And they were faithful. Everyday. They came or called. Brought her things or asked what she needed. Young kids. These kids are in their 20's. That selfish age that often says, "I don't have time for you. This is all about me." Not these kids. They didn't care what she needed-they would have brought her the world. They didn't care she slept while they talked. They still came back-every single day. They inquired about her surgery on Monday. They reported to each other details of her progress. They encouraged her, made her laugh, let her cry, supported her and told her they loved her. And they meant it. Each and every one of them. <br />
<br />
Our<a href="http://wqad.com/2012/05/22/mother-of-survivor-in-burlington-boat-crash-says-the-kids-in-the-crash-were-all-like-family/" target="_blank"> local news </a>called on Tuesday and asked me
to talk about how grateful I was and I was appalled. Just as appalled as I am now at the many people who have negative things to say and opinions about how and why this accident happened. Many people want to pass judgement on everybody involved. And, while that is human nature to want answers, and judgement will happen in any tragic event, the truth is, there is not one person who can tell us why or how. They can speculate. They can guess. They can judge.<br />
It happened. How or why doesn't make it any less tragic.<br />
Doesn't make it any less sad.<br />
Doesn't make it any less real.<br />
These kids don't DESERVE it. They don't need to hear about lessons learned. They need love and support. They need the same thing they have given my daughter.<br />
<br />
Someone said to me the other day,<br />
"I hope they learned their lesson." And I said,<br />
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"I know I did. I have seen what true love is. In the midst of their own grief, sadness, and anger, they held my daughter up. They held each other up. All of them. They comforted family of those lost. They comforted those hurt. They comforted those sad. They worried about themselves later. My daughter has the greatest group of friends ever!"</div>
<br />
There were 12 kids involved in this accident. A strong group of kids who experienced something tragic that will change their life forever. <i><b>The River Rats 12 </b></i>is how they are known around our town. And their extended group of friends are just as amazing. In their own grief and sadness, they are there for each other, and those involved.<br />
<br />
Did they learn a lesson? I'm sure each one of them has learned something. But, those lessons are private and personal. They are not required to share them.<br />
<br />
Did they teach one? You bet they did.<br />
<br />
As for my daughter? She is home from the hospital. She is mad about being off work. She is master of her
wheelchair and she says new, upper body strength is making her into a
"beast". Her leg is healing. Bandages came off and Dr. gave her goals.
"Get that heel on the floor and apply 75 pounds of pressure by the
15th."<br />
She is doing well and her friends are still here, talking, texting, visiting, and helping her though it. Her friends that were also hurt are healing as well and continue to love and encourage each other.<br />
<br />
As for me. I can say now that I am grateful. God, yes, I am grateful she is still here. Grateful to see that smile and hear the sound of her voice. Grateful she is here complaining that I don't want to help her anymore when I make her do something
for herself. Grateful she is here to sing and play her guitar. (you can hear that <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eN60G49H7YQ&list=UUfBmEKRuny8fssWUwYwzXRQ&index=2&feature=plcp" target="_blank">here</a>.) I do not know what I would
have done if I would have lost her.<br />
I watched her sleep the other night
and the tears came. Not so much tears of sadness --I have cried
those tears-- but tears of joy that I can still watch her sleep. Tears of
overwhelming love for her. While many have said they can't imagine life
without one of their children, I have had to. I have had to imagine what
it would have been like if she would not have made it through this.<br />
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To the parents of the four we lost, my heart aches for you as my imagination is your reality and I am very sad for that. Please know our thoughts and prayers are always with you and thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving my daughters such wonderful people to call their friends.</div>
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<b>And to you, Jennifer- </b></div>
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<i>I love you more than you will ever know. I am so grateful that you are here with us, broken leg and all. I would take care of you forever if I had to. I can not tell you how devastated I would have been...how horrifying it would have been to have you gone. I would miss you more than I could ever tell you in words. </i></div>
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<i>You are my Baby Daughter and from the moment you were born, and even nameless, I loved you.</i></div>
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<i> I will always love you, no matter what--fights, disagreements and even when I don't want to give you a shower, I love you! </i></div>
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<i>Forever. </i></div>
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<i>If you ever see me tearing up when I look at you, don't worry, they are tears of joy.</i></div>
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So, now, are my choices as a mom wrong? No, they aren't. They are my choices. Do I regret taking care of my children? No, they are my children. Do I worry about struggling even more now with her off work? Sure, I do, but it's what I do best. I worry no matter what. </div>
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I'm a Mom!</div>
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<b>A "RIVER RATS 12" Mom </b></div>
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and that makes me burst with pride!!</div>
<br />
I don't regret the way I have raised my kids. I don't regret the choices I have made. They are my kids. And I think they have turned out to be great kids with big hearts and good souls. After all, look at the great group of friends they chose. It couldn't get any better than that! My love goes out to all of them.<br />
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Thanks for letting me share.<br />
Dream Big!<br />
Kimberly<br />
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People in our community have banded together and are having benefits for those involved. I am proud of our community. For more info on the benefits planned, see the following Facebook pages <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/382062191829882/387614731274628/?notif_t=plan_mall_activity" target="_blank">June Benefit</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/448878505139921/" target="_blank">July Benefit</a>, or if<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> you want to help out but can't make it to the benefits? River Rats 12 has a bank account. All proceeds will go to help the families with expenses related to this accident.</span></h6>
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<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">MidWest One Bank<br /> 3225 Division St<br /> Burlington, IA 52601<br /> Checks can be made out to: River Rats 12 Benefit </span></h6>
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-30293882424950063942012-05-08T01:23:00.003-05:002012-05-08T01:49:29.865-05:00Who Needs a Lovelife...I have PinterestFigured it is about time for me to attempt a new post. I originally was going to add the Pinterest Button in the "openly stalk me" section, but as you may have guessed, I do not remember how in the heck to do that. HA!<br />
<br />
So, I thought I would write a little and put that little sucker right here. But, can't figure out that either so just follow this link ---><a href="http://bit.ly/KJ6wkn" target="_blank">STALK ME ON PINTEREST</a><br />
<br />
This should allow you to openly stalk me on Pinterest. I don't spend a whole lot of time there...oh, who am I kidding? I spend HOURS there. I don't always "pin", but oh, I'm there! Browsing things I love; clawfoot tubs, photography, and anything involving hot glue or velcro; looking at pictures of places I would like to visit; Greece, Australia, and the ever popular, worlds largest ball of twine; and lastly, finding things I can, but will never have the time, to make. (Note- I have the time to collect the items needed.) This would explain why I have a broken dresser drawer, 23 empty Mason Jars, and all the wickless wax from the last 4 months of candle burning.<br />
Someday I will make something very cool.<br />
*NOTE* In the very likely event that the little code up there did NOT take you anywhere, oops! I will be back to fix it. :) And in the crazy, unheard of event you do not know what Pinterest is, then you need to get out more! GO THERE. It is very cool. <a href="http://pinterest.com/" target="_blank">GET OUT MORE...START HERE!</a><br />
<br />
So, other than Pinterest, what am I going to blog about? Good question.<br />
What else is there? Just kidding.<br />
<br />
There is my love life. Oh no...we won't go there. My parents READ this! Heck, my KIDS read this!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>(*Note to my parents, my children and my bestie, Crystal.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>No, there is not a mystery boyfriend you do not know about. I am being humorous. </b></div>
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<b>DO NOT start blowing up my phone!)</b></div>
<br />
There is my new book...{insert intense<a href="http://bit.ly/5WEVfr" target="_blank"> John Williams theme music</a> here}<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Abrupt end to music..</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Details Soon"</div>
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Next...my job...it's killing me. Literally. So, moving right along.<br />
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My kids....are absolutely great. But, they still won't write <a href="http://bit.ly/moFhAm" target="_blank">Ellen ( a post about this)</a>. UGH!<br />
<br />
My friends....still the coolest on the planet. Without them, I would....well, I would drink the wine by myself and it would last a lot longer, and I would probably enjoy the wine itself a lot more....hmmm? Again, just kidding, I wouldn't drink ALL the wine.<br />
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My parents....what can I say. They rock!<br />
<br />
Ah, my new apartment.<br />
Yes! It is wonderful! Spacious 5 bedroom upper in the heart of downtown. River is about 3 blocks away. My new hair girl is two blocks. Record store around the corner. Truly love living downtown. In fact, got some good shots of the moon the other night. Wanna see?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aKAwF_0VhXr2Gm6ED__O1PAU-szQX9PkoSGxqRkYc9P-0ndtwdSZw70Yuq574kC0BUCVkqFp8pIDI7gel6RNHYq-RPCKVlKTRdj5zLzh_7MbQie1JjCAFuQpwtB6bUf0hMtmkSOn8KM/s1600/BWmoonlit+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aKAwF_0VhXr2Gm6ED__O1PAU-szQX9PkoSGxqRkYc9P-0ndtwdSZw70Yuq574kC0BUCVkqFp8pIDI7gel6RNHYq-RPCKVlKTRdj5zLzh_7MbQie1JjCAFuQpwtB6bUf0hMtmkSOn8KM/s320/BWmoonlit+night.jpg" width="269" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5oBxVcQyKcFs8gBTNsJeRx1VXF_G0Q6mRFUsgcqcxttYhFM40HGz2com6ZA-P4dHy-GBPdRo78PE688Xub07RemBdDTWzrX7ToOOz_t176gEoRfIpZgLP3_J-YBeFmQrRL2AVkUxvPI/s1600/early+moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5oBxVcQyKcFs8gBTNsJeRx1VXF_G0Q6mRFUsgcqcxttYhFM40HGz2com6ZA-P4dHy-GBPdRo78PE688Xub07RemBdDTWzrX7ToOOz_t176gEoRfIpZgLP3_J-YBeFmQrRL2AVkUxvPI/s320/early+moon.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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And there is a gorgeous church about 5 blocks that is lit up at night..</div>
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(I can actually see the steeple from my windows)</div>
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So, as you can see, I have the camera back out as well. Yes, the photography bug has caught up to me once again. I spent the weekend taking a lot of pictures. Went on a walk with my granddaughter and took some of her, too....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFG-Rs9aKjkSDDHsCOlH2jxxT1ITdeJZGGa29HK_ndGRgYRYDyh0uz7oZEx1Sts4EbO1a5Fe7mnubY8PrBH3VIfw3GmHAjXe_dZ7BZCCC0Bf-S6cWlRobv3GYcNqhWkKrsLyzzBJxfNi4/s1600/peekin'.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFG-Rs9aKjkSDDHsCOlH2jxxT1ITdeJZGGa29HK_ndGRgYRYDyh0uz7oZEx1Sts4EbO1a5Fe7mnubY8PrBH3VIfw3GmHAjXe_dZ7BZCCC0Bf-S6cWlRobv3GYcNqhWkKrsLyzzBJxfNi4/s320/peekin'.jpg" width="209" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VGeMHua5KWFEWoY4SjlY-SGgvooUAwD5Sq57nxUydYaD3PdDShdf8D-6iTxC5n8tMBDhoOcPBxeOvWr9A1ex4JTaXcx4Cd6sTJDxYRNatbVnofTFrwrRovrp5uWd6p9f49JV94Y3g3w/s1600/pickingaflower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VGeMHua5KWFEWoY4SjlY-SGgvooUAwD5Sq57nxUydYaD3PdDShdf8D-6iTxC5n8tMBDhoOcPBxeOvWr9A1ex4JTaXcx4Cd6sTJDxYRNatbVnofTFrwrRovrp5uWd6p9f49JV94Y3g3w/s320/pickingaflower.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
There you have it. My life. A great view. A new pad. Surrounded by awesome cuteness. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And, I have Pinterest. </div>
<br />
<br />
Who needs a love life?<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
~KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-29634631852652023702012-03-03T08:18:00.000-06:002012-03-10T08:19:43.535-06:00Too Much Testosterone and a Red MicrowaveSomeone said to me that they like my witty posts and then asked, "Why did you stop?"<br />
I didn't stop. I really didn't. My little mind is turning and churning with thoughts and wit...Then it hit me....oh nobody else is in here...I get it.<br />
<br />
So, what have I been up to? Well, let me enlighten you....<br />
<br />
For four months I worked 13 days in a row for 1 off. At my job I tray, pack, sweep, load, unload, clean, tray, pack, sweep, load, unload, and clean--repeat as necessary.<br />
It's a great job and I love it, but it's not funny. Thank goodness we are on a 5 day work week again!<br />
<br />
On to the next thing....my son turned 18 a couple months ago. My last of five to enter into adulthood. Which basically means I can now move to Tahiti, The Bahamas, Cozumel....pick one! However, I have spent my whole adult life raising children and have not a dime saved. True story, but not funny.<br />
<br />
Next, I have been counseling my sister who is in marital turmoil. More specifically, her husband of 22 years just walked away. Again, not funny...<br />
<br />
So, what is funny in my world? All of the above. Yes, believe it or not, in some way or another, I can find humor in any situation...it's a gift.<br />
<br />
Starting with work...can we say too much testosterone? Seriously. It's like being married sometimes. I work in a man's world and they are seeping testosterone all over the place. Of course, not a one of 'em has as much as they think they do. And, like a having a husband, I need less medication as time goes on but the desire to throw heavy objects increases dramatically. Is there balance? Haven't found it yet. I make funny faces behind their backs and usually say something, completely inappropriate, amid the roar of loud machinery. When they turn my way, I just smile and give a thumbs up. That part is funny.<br />
By the time I get a day off (even during a 5 day work week) my house is a wreck, my laundry piled high, my fridge is empty, my sink is full, and my gas light is on. I am exhausted, my feet hurt, my back hurts, and I want large bottles of Tylenol washed down with cold bottles of Miller Lite! That, too, has proven to be funny. Especially, if I throw an Ambien in the mix. Okay...now I am just kidding, but you get the idea.<br />
<br />
Next, my 18 year old who loves to lay claim to fame with the ever popular, "I am an adult now" statement, usually bombards me with, "Hey, will you buy me a pop", "I'm starving", or "What's for dinner?"<br />
I kindly remind him how much his rent will be, how much I will charge for cleaning services, taxi service, babysitting service, and how I want my eggs done when he fixes ME breakfast! He shuts up pretty quick. That is pretty funny.<br />
<br />
And finally....marital turmoil. I recently told my sister I want to write a new book entitled, "Who Needs Therapy-I Have A Sister." It would be a collection of our e-mails to each other during this madness.<br />
Her husband, who I now refer to as "WHF" (What's His Face) has experienced something between a mid-life crisis and The 'Don't look now, cause I am about to prove to you what an idiot I am and how everyone knows it but you' Syndrome. And yes, that really is a thing. Most men have it but only show occasional symptoms, therefore it is overlooked in most formal diagnosis'. (Sorry, guys....probably a really bad time for you to choose to follow, but super glad you are here.)<br />
<br />
Let me say, for the record, I am not a "man-hater". Really, I am not. I love men. My sons are men. My brothers are men. Even my dad is a man. So, I do truly LOVE men. It's husbands I hate! Those guys are just dumb! Any husbands out there reading this...how many times in the last week have you said "oh Sh!%..." and fumbled with how you were going to explain something to your wife? Be honest. That's what I thought. And if you said "none", don't think you are in the clear....she WILL find out!<br />
And, for the record, I don't hate ALL husbands. My friends are married to some of the good guys and my mom did okay for her self and I guess my sister-in-law got lucky too, but, well, my point has been made.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>(*Special note to WHF...Don't worry about it...we will take care of each other!!! DUH!)</b></i> </div>
<br />
So, that's what I have been up to. Took a look at my previous post that listed the top 10 things I want to do in 2012. I think that was it. Notice I said "took at look at my previous post..." It did not say DOING THE THINGS on my previous post.<br />
But, pretty sure I covered the procrastination part. That is also a syndrome and I totally have it.<br />
<br />
But, from the list...I have <i>not</i> gone on nor taken myself on a date; real or otherwise. I did take my son through the McDonald's drive-thru twice but pretty sure that doesn't count.<br />
I have <i>not </i>stopped smoking nor lost a few pounds. Neither one of those things interested me in the slightest so were moved to the bottom of the list to be done AFTER I complete the things on the top of the list.<br />
I have <i>not</i> organized my house, although I have found a new one. More about that later. But I will say it is a FIVE, count 'em...FIVE bedroom upper, close to the river, with a jacuzzi tub so it's all good.<br />
<br />
Now, I<i> have</i> been writing...Book #2 is coming to life. That <i>does</i> make me smile a lot. Oh, hey that was on the list, too!<br />
And, I bought that fire engine red microwave!<br />
Pretty much sums it up! Will be moving into the new place this next weekend and with an apartment that is intoxicating with inspiration, that new book will be on the shelf before we know it!<br />
And more posts will be on here. I always post when inspired. <br />
<br />
So, to my friend who likes my witty posts and asked why I stopped...<br />
I didn't stop!<br />
That will never happen.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-3450554091429636342011-11-30T12:01:00.001-06:002011-12-19T01:09:25.716-06:00Where's My Creative Flow?Write.<br />
File. Select all. Delete.<br />
Write.<br />
Repeat.<br />
What is wrong with my creative flow? Where are my words of wisdom? Humor? New thought provoking posts, are empty pages or lonely drafts, unseen by others and taunting to me.<br />
There was one about my Princess status being revoked, complete with my utter dismay, chronological analyzation, and a major bashing of all known "Princes"...respect for my male followers put that one on the "Save for Later" list.<br />
The one about my job and the amount of testosterone I am amid daily, comparing it to marriage, due to my need for medication and the desire to throw heavy objects, was completely deleted as it was somewhat incriminating and, while, hysterically funny, not a good idea-I still work there!<br />
And the one about my sister and her recent dealing with marital abandonment and complete disrespect by her husband of 22 years, my dumb-ass brother in law, What's His Face, is being saved and turned into a private, personal email that I will send when the time is right. <br />
So, what's left?<br />
Well, there is Christmas and the Santa debate. You know the one where people don't believe. I mean, come on. That notion that the parents do the gifts and eat the cookies. That can't be right. My parents would NOT come into my house in the middle of the night, leave presents under the tree and eat the cookies. They just wouldn't DO that. Besides, we go to their house and exchange gifts. They don't need to do it in secret. So, that idea just doesn't hold water. So, that post didn't either. It's an open and shut case! Santa is real!<br />
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<br />
So, that leaves the stand by post for end of year creative drought....<br />
<div style="color: red; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Things to Accomplish in 2012</b></span></i></div>
Most lists I have seen have 100. However, due to a severe and chronic case of procrastination, I will start with 10. These are in no particular order...<br />
<br />
<b>Go on a Real Date.</b> (*Note: Going to the corner bar, the drive-thru at McDonalds or running to Kmart is NOT a date!)<br />
<b>Organize the House</b> (this could take most of 2012 and should not be taken lightly or seriously...a 2-1/2- year-old lives here with her 18-year-old father!)<br />
<b>Stop Smoking</b> (YEAH....there is the humor!)<br />
<b>Lose Weight</b> (this would be weight gained by trying/accomplishing the above goal! Thinking ahead here!)<br />
<b>Write More </b>(Write in this blog, expand on novel #2, finish a couple short stories, catch up on letters to family/friends, emails, notes to the kids, and write and send a letter to Santa to thank him!)<br />
<b>Smile More at the People I Meet.</b> After all, I paid a lot of money for these teeth....May as well show 'em off!<br />
<b>Regain Princess Status.</b>..can be done with a pair fancy shoes, a shiny diamond necklace, and a new sparkly dress! Or, according to my granddaughter, I can marry a Prince...I'll take the shoes!<br />
<b>Redecorate My Kitchen</b> Can you say fire engine red microwave?<br />
<b>Take Myself on a Date.</b> (*Note: Going to the corner bar, the drive-thru at McDonalds or running to Kmart IS a date!)<br />
<b>Sleep Sounder, Dream Bigger, Live Fuller, Eat Better, Love Unconditionally, and Always, and I mean ALWAYS, Have an Alibi! </b><br />
<br />
Write.<br />
File. Select all. Post <br />
Write.<br />
Repeat.<br />
<br />
Until Next Time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
<br />
<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-19030367605660159272011-09-27T12:54:00.002-05:002011-09-27T12:54:54.622-05:00Sorry it's not tomorrow....In my life of working, children, friends, Twitter, calling my mother, emailing my sister, drinking an occasional beer with my father and coffee with my brother, there is still time to sleep a little, shower quickly, drive fast, and eat while I smoke. Yet, in the midst of all this living, I think. I think about the things I will do tomorrow.
<p>My laundry for one. Grocery shopping for another. I still want to hang a new picture I bought 9 days ago!!! And then there is writing. I write in my mind all day long. I write at work, on the phone, in my car, and while I sleep. I think about writing all the time.
I come home and jot a few things down. Then I say, I will post that tomorrow....</p>
This is NOT tomorrow. I am very sorry my posts have disappeared. Please hang in there and know I will be back. I will get used to this overwhelming grind of work and being a grown up and will start posting again. I have a pile of notes, thoughts, and ideas.
<p>Thoughts take over my day. My mind swirls and spins in a menagerie of words, stories, posts, jokes, quotes, and just plain silly stuff.</p>
A quote came into my life today from Lady Chatterley's Lover,
<blockquote><b>"A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it."</blockquote></b>
<p>Are we doing this? And not just women....men too. As <b>PEOPLE</b>, are we doing this?
When I am 60, is it going to matter that I worked 71 hours this week?
Probably, but only when I go in for my hip replacement!<p>
All kidding aside, I will ponder this quote and it's meaning until I can post a meaningful thought. Or until a better one comes into my mind. Until then, what are your thoughts on it?
<P><i>Are you living your life? Are you setting yourself up to regret that you didn't.</P></i>There are things in my life that I am putting off. I am putting it off until tomorrow. Until my day off. Until winter is over. Until the kids move out. <p>Until John Cusack.....well yeah, you get the idea!</p>
So, you ponder this. Write your own thoughts, ideas, jokes, quotes, or just plain silly stuff.
<p>And while you do that, I am going to hang up this really cool picture I bought!!!!</p>
Until next time,
<p>Kimberly</p>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-60968257584405833852011-08-06T14:23:00.000-05:002011-08-06T14:23:30.720-05:00For my "Jilly"...This will not be a post full of laughs and attempts at satire that I usually engage in. It will not be free from mentions of my book. It will be from the heart. Wrote straight from there with no rewrites or edits. It will be real. So, if you read my stuff for the chuckles, this may disappoint you. For that, I apologize. I also apologize for mentions of the book here as I promised I wouldn't do that on the main page. I am not mentioning it for sales boost or exposure. It is necessary for this post to make any sense at all. Sense that, only I, will benefit from, as it is, I suppose, therapeutic or perhaps my way to just get it out. For that I also apologize for- but also thank you, for allowing me to do it.<br />
So, what is this all about?<br />
Well, when I was little I met this woman. A crazy, silly, fantastically odd, wonderful woman from Alabama. She was my father's aunt. And she was like no adult I had ever met. She would come to town and in her wild choice of dress, usually something in large floral print with an outrageously funny hat, and with her thick southern accent, make her presence known in our small family. She was a bright shining light in my otherwise dull Iowa life. <br />
She would be so excited to see me. She would talk to me about her brother, who she called "Bubba"- my grandfather- who I had never met. She could tell a story and make you feel like you knew every person she talked about. Stories complete with names and places, silly in origin, that to anyone else, would seem completely fictional, yet I knew every word, every place, and every character were real. And they were all my family. Extended family that I had never met, yet I felt like I knew each and every one of them.<br />
Each time she would visit, the stories would be told. She would talk of family with great love. She loved our family history and researched it with passion. She would share her findings with excitement and pride.<br />
As I grew older, my relationship with her grew as well. We would write to each other often and she would share details of her life-from the flowers blooming in her yard, to what she had for breakfast, or who came for a visit. Trips to town she took on her bicycle and talks with friends she met along the way were included in vivid detail. Secrets, advice, thoughts, poetry, and life changes were shared by each of us.<br />
We shared in the births of my children and her enjoyment that our family legacy would continue. She would refer to my children by their full given names, just as she would refer to me with my own. The only one to call me Kimberly without the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. I always thought this funny as everyone else she had ever known, including herself, had a nickname.<br />
We continued to write and occasionally spoke on the phone. As she aged, her
travels ceased and her life became less mobile, but still entertaining to her.
I cherished her letters, written eloquently and with detail as vibrant as she was in person.<br />
We shared over 25 years of correspondence before she shared with me that her sight was going and her Parkinson's disease was taking control of her life. While her passion remained and her mind sharp as ever, her physical
being suffered.<br />
A caregiver started writing the words she told her to write. She asked me to come care for her. <br />
Although my life over the years was great, it had been as wild and crazy as one could imagine and stability was never used to describe it. With children still at home, I was not in a position to move and be with her. As much as I wanted to help her and be with her, I could not. While I was sure she was in good hands, I wanted to be there and she knew that. I continued to write but I received less and less correspondence back as time went on. I sent her pictures of my family and continued to keep her posted on life in Iowa.<br />
<br />
A letter came in early fall 2009 that I won't share details here, but it was a plea of sorts. To carry on her legacy. To not let things end. That letter filled me with bittersweet memories of her and of our unique long distant friendship. Also, building inside me was a strong desire to visit the place she so vividly painted. The place in all the stories. To see the walls that held the love she spoke of. To see her again. To watch her tell the stories. To see her face light up, her eyes twinkle and to be swallowed in that smile and surrounded by that laugh when she humored herself.<br />
<br />
Despite desire, I had responsibility at home. I had my children and my work. I talked with my son many times about taking the trip south to that tiny Alabama town that would put us in the middle of our heritage. Near the heritage that she had instilled, first, in me, and then in my son, who, years earlier, had stumbled upon her letters and started his own family research. To the tiny southern town that housed our family home. The one she was born in, that my grandfather grew up in and where my own father played as a child. The place in the stories that I had heard since I was a young girl and where I longed to be.<br />
To be with her. Holding her hand as she told me more stories. As she told me of my grandfather. Of my great-grandmother and of herself. Stories of her as a teen making a beauty mark on her face with charcoal and of my grandfather curling her hair with the iron heated in the oil lamp. Stories that I had heard over and over but never tired of hearing.<br />
<br />
In winter of 2010, I began writing the story that would become my first novel. All I knew at the time was it involved a little girl and she had a story to tell. I did not know then what that story was.<br />
Then, in what I call a twist of fate, I had the ability to go to Alabama.<br />
Feeling an urgency to visit her, my son and I left on the 13 hour journey to Alabama. We spent a week with my lifetime friend. Recovering from an illness in a nursing rehab facility, her physical being was weak but her mind was still sharp, remembering dates, times, places and the people in her life who had meant the world to her- many who had passed from this life before her. My son and I stayed in her home. The family home. A painting in my mind, came to life as I walked into the house. The beauty of the memories she shared were there; I could touch them and smell them. I felt at home.<br />
<br />
She and my son spoke of generations of the past and he promised to continue her research as she admitted her eyes were not well enough to proceed. Though she spoke of going home from the nursing facility she was in, she knew in her heart, that was only a wish. And I knew, that place would be her new home. It saddened me when I listened to the quiet of the house that it would pass from our family into the legacy of another. But, the memories and the love would stay with me. Those I would keep.<br />
<br />
She told me of the journals that she wrote in everyday and told me to take them home with me. "They contain the words of our family, Kimberly. Take them home and read them to your children." she said. Although, she gave them to me, I could not bring myself to do as she asked. I told her I would get them when I came again in the summer.<br />
<br />
The morning before we left Alabama to return home, we visited her again. And again, she told me, "this is not the end." She told me not to say goodbye. "See ya later," she said. "Say see ya later." And then she told me to write everyday. To write it all down and tell a good story.<br />
<br />
That request I honored. I went home and I wrote. The little girl in my book did have a story to tell. For 8 months I wrote. In the end, I called it <i><b>Just Sippy</b></i>. A story about eleven-year-old, Sippy, and her beautiful, quirky, hippie cousin from Alabama named Jilly. While the storyline is fictional, and the character of Jilly is somewhat exaggerated, there is a 30 year bond there that is real; the love; the faith and the friendship is all very real. And Jilly's quirky, silly, happy, love for family and life is very real.<br />
The love of her life; her family, is what kept "Jilly" going. It is what gave her the twinkle in her eye, the bounce in her voice and the joy in her heart. That is very real. And that part of "Jilly" is very real to me...to the little girl in me...an 11-year-old Iowa girl with a silly Great Aunt from Alabama.<br />
My "Jilly". My Great Aunt and my friend of 30 years.<i><b> That was real.</b></i><br />
<br />
I received word from family this week that my "Jilly" was very ill and no longer responding.<br />
On Wednesday, I called and asked the nurse to put the phone to her ear. I told her I did what she said and that I wrote it all down. I told her I loved her. I ended with "see ya later."<br />
<br />
She quietly passed early yesterday morning. It's hard not to be sad!<br />
See ya later, my "Jilly." Say hi to "Bubba"!<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
P.S. To my dearest, lifelong friend- I'm sorry I never came back for the journals. I will always love you!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-46888014737014387582011-07-19T18:45:00.001-05:002011-10-17T01:29:23.272-05:00It's a Trend!I am seeing a trend.<br />
No, not on Twitter. Come on, people...it isn't always about Twitter. (Right? Please tell me that's right, cause I put some stupid stuff on Twitter.)<br />
Okay, anyway, don't side track me. Have you not realized by now, that my attention span is NOT a virtue! Seriously, I'm like those dogs in that one movie...."SQUIRREL!" What movie was that? OH---See? Stop that.<br />
(<a href="http://bit.ly/mVHOgM">UP, The Movie</a>) <br />
Okay, so, I am seeing a trend.<br />
First, I saw a blog about dating over 40....oh crap, now I gotta go find it so I can link you to it. Apparently, it really is a thing. And then, I saw an article about getting a job over 40. (Crap, I need that link, too) This could take some time! (<a href="http://bit.ly/nZ4Ezx">Dating Over 40</a> and <a href="http://bit.ly/mUQgB4">The Other One</a>)<br />
Okay, so I got to thinking...is there something wrong with being over 40? Is it a stigma? Is it contagious? Cause, I think people think it is. Then I got to thinking about all the other "groups" that have a stigma...you know, like a blemish on your character...or a big oozing pock mark on your personality. Depends on the level of self esteem you have left as to how you view these groups....Some can be compliments-others, not.<br />
But, we do group people. As a society we "group" people, like little fraternities, but without the cool parties!<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<b>Single mothers</b> * <b>Divorced Women </b>* <b>Divorced Single Mothers</b> *<b> Dead Beat Dads</b> * <b>Stay Home Moms </b>*<b>Stay Home Dads</b> * <b>Self Published Authors</b> * <b>Women Over Forty </b>* <b>Fifty and Fabulous</b> * <b>Big and Tall </b>* <b>Domestic Goddesses </b>*<b>Smokers</b> *<b> Ex-Smokers</b> *<b>99-ers</b> *<b>Non-Traditional Students </b>*<b>Job Seekers</b> *<b>Applicants</b> *<b>Working Mothers</b> * <b>Women Writers</b> * <b>Career Women</b> * <b>Baby Boomers</b> *<b> Players </b>* <b>Gamers</b> * <b>Bloggers </b>* <b>Indie Authors</b> * <b>Teen Mothers/Fathers</b></blockquote>
<br />
Obviously not a complete list, but, some of the most popular. So, what does this all mean and what is my point? Well, obviously, I don't have a point and it means nothing....kinda like that game show, where nobody wins and the points don't matter. (<a href="http://bit.ly/nc6HyO">Who's Line Is It Anyway</a>)<br />
But, on that same note, there is something I want. Something that we should do. If we are gonna group people that is...<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><b>THROW FREAKIN' PARTIES!</b></i><br />
I mean, seriously! Why not? What better way to prove we are not judging anybody by grouping them? That's right. I said throw parties!<br />
It's easy....from now on, when we group somebody by saying "she's a single mom" or "they are smokers" or "hey, all women over 40"...I'm thinking that conversation should end with "You are cordially invited to...."<br />
How much fun would that be? It'd be freakin' awesome. In fact, I think this idea should be retroactive. By that I mean, we owe people a lot of parties.<br />
Heck, just based on the above list.....<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
I am a <b>Single Divorced Mother</b> <b>Over 40</b> who spent years as a <b>Stay Home, Domestic Goddess</b>, before becoming a<b> Non-Traditional Student</b> to be a <b>Working Mother</b> in a world full of <b>Job seekers</b> and<b> Applicants </b>until finally going for the dream of a <b>Woman Indie Writer</b>. Add to that I have become <b>a 99-er, a Blogger</b>, <b>a Chronic Smoker</b> and mother of a <b>Teen-Father</b> who is a <b>Stay Home Dad</b><b></b>. And now, I am well on my way, to being<b> Fifty and Fabulous</b>! (that's enough parties to get me to retirement!!)</blockquote>
<br />
So, what about that trend of being over 40? Dating over 40? Getting a job over 40?<br />
Doesn't matter really....<br />
I heard <a href="http://bit.ly/pxBkIX"><b>#FiftyIsTheNew29</b></a> is going to trend on Twitter!<br />
And it really is all about Twitter! Right?<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-47327576758265474352011-07-07T18:09:00.003-05:002011-07-07T18:09:47.390-05:00Would the Real Me Please Stand Up?So, I've talked about my kids, and my parents. I've rambled on about my book and writing. And I have even talked a little bit about jobs and the fact I need one.<br />
But, I haven't really talked about me....The <i>real</i> me!<br />
Not the "me" who thinks about cutting her hair every other day, or wishes she could lose 10 pounds. Not the "me" who talks about how much she loves Dr. Pepper but tries not to drink it. Not the "me" who believes George Clooney will someday give up on her and marry a super model, already! Not even the "me" who proposes to John Cusack on Twitter when she has nothing else to say....No, believe it or not, the <i>real </i>me actually knows John Cusack would never marry a girl who proposes on Twitter and that poor George is stuck-delusional even, in thinking this would all be given for him. (Please George, I beg of you! MOVE ON!)<br />
No, I'm talking about the <i>real</i> me. The one who deals with life everyday. The one who deals with the struggle and the stress. The one who budgets, cleans, taxi's, and cooks. The one doing the laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, and the dusting. The one who counsels kids, gives advice and loans $5 for gas. The one who listens to her friend complain about her husband, daughter complain about her lovelife, and son complain that he's bored. The one who worries about her parents, frets about money, and occasionally contemplates really stalking John Cusack.<br />
But, most importantly, I'm talking about the <i>real</i> me!<br />
The absolute<i> real </i>me is the one who wakes up every morning and wonders if all this has been a dream and if there really is a gorgeous hunk of a man in her kitchen making Hazelnut coffee.<br />
The real "me" wonders if men realize asking a girl "wanna ride my Harley sometime" is not the same as asking her on a date. She's the one who thinks that just once a guy could say "You are really pretty" instead of saying "Baby, you're so hot". The one who thinks a kiss goodnight is romantic and it doesn't make you less of a man if you try for just one.<br />
The real "me" who wonders if she will ever find that one she is supposed to be with forever. (Sit down, George! It is NOT you! See? He's obsessed!)<br />
Here's some thoughts from the<i> real</i> me...<br />
The real me doesn't want to get married. I have been down that road a time or two (or three). It's safe to say,<b> I don't like husbands.</b><br />
I don't want to take care of someone. I have enough trouble taking care of myself.<br />
I don't need someone to take care of me. That is just damn scary and men are too fickle...they change their mind and, poof, I'm livin' in a box! No thanks!<br />
I am not looking for a souvenir to drag to family parties that my brothers can wrestle with. I am, however, interested in drinking a beer or two with my father and if someone were there to open the bottle, that would be great!<br />
Not looking for someone to mow the grass, drive the boat, or man the grill. But, if he happens to HAVE a lawn mower, OWN a boat and can bring his own grill, that, too, would be great.<br />
Not looking for a guy to clean my gutters, repair leaking faucets, or figure out what that noise in the furnace is...I have a landlord for that, but if he wants to kill a spider, change a lightbulb on the porch, or pump my gas, that would be super!<br />
Also, not looking for someone to cook for everyday, pick up after, or feed their ego.<br />
Not looking to cater to, explain to, or justify the actions of me or my kids. We are who we are. Not perfect. Not exciting. Not rich. Not famous. Not at all.<br />
Doesn't have to be an Einstein or anything. Doesn't need to have his face in a book at all times. But it is helpful that he knows what a book is and may actually be kinda cool if he has read one, in say, the last 20 years or so.<br />
Don't want him to cry in a Kodak commercial or anything but a little sentiment goes a long way. Like if the Mayhem guy does anything at all for him, I am good with that.<br />
I don't want him to live in his mother's basement or anything, but he needs to at least know her first and last name and occasionally speak to her. And "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number doesn't count." And while we are at it, "Hey You, there is something I need to discuss about that time in the 4th grade..." is pretty much a deal breaker, too.<br />
Don't want someone I can beat up but don't want President of the WWE either.<br />
Don't want a guy who calls his time in witness protection, his stint in prison, or his unemployment "a vacation". <br />
Don't want a guy who lives in a bar, at his job, in his car, above someone's garage, in my garage, on my couch, or in a storage facility he has converted into an efficiency apartment. He doesn't have to own his own home, but he can't make me hide under a blanket and pretend he's not there if his landlord knocks on the door.<br />
If we are in a relationship and he refers to our intimate moments as "hittin' it", "bangin'" or any other colorful, slang use of vulgarity- he can bet I will tell his friends I broke up with him because he couldn't "bang it" effectively!<br />
(Which, in my experience of the men who use those phrases, well, I would not be lying.)<br />
Tattoos in moderation are fine, but not as a substitute for clothes and self portraits, Nazi symbols and anything they can make dance is not attractive. <br />
Well, by now, you are asking "where is she getting all of this?" Believe or not, from experience.<br />
Yes, I have met most of these men and even married a couple of them. It has not been pretty. Now, of course not all of this is without imagination or exaggeration. I mean, even I realize by now, that George is not giving up.<br />
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But, you may also be asking what does the<i> real </i>me want?<br />
That is a loaded question. I will try to answer.<br />
<br />
I want the old fashioned thing. The guy who talks and listens. The guy who loves me from the inside out. The guy who thinks about me all day. The guy who tells his friends about me. The guy who remembers those silly things I like. <br />Doesn't exist?<br />
Oh, it does. Granted - He married my mom! But, any whoooo, a girl can dream!<br />
And what am I willing to give?<br />
All of who I am. A single mother of five who thinks about cutting her hair and losing 10 pounds while smoking, writing, reading, eating, singing, dreaming, wishing, hoping and praying. A woman who proposes to John Cusack regularly and would leave you in a heartbeat if he ever took her up on it. A Grammy who thinks her grandkids are way cuter than her first generation kids, and would hate you til your death if you ever even thought about hurting any of them. A girl at heart who thinks her dad is the best man on the planet. A karaoke, bar-hating junkie, a book loving, non-library card holding geek, an unemployed workaholic, a published, unknown author, a starving writer, a poet, a flutist, a painter, a photographer, and her kids' friend.<br />
A sister, an aunt, a daughter, a granddaughter, a niece, a cousin, an ex-wife, an ex-girlfriend, a former co-worker, a former boss, a former employee, and a former student.<br />
A blogger, a Twit(terer), a Stumbler, a Scrabble lover, a coffee addict, a best friend, and a trivia buff. A lover of Elton John, Eva Cassidy, The Cranberries, and Ellen! Someone who likes black and white movies and oldies music, believes in Santa, wants to be an elf, and lives for Christmas! One who cries in sad movies, at the end of Frosty the Snowman and during fireworks. One with Christmas traditions she won't give up, superstitions she doesn't falter from, and a collection of ugly chairs her kids try to throw away.<br />
A simple woman who is grateful for what she has, unapologetic for what she doesn't, proud of who her kids have become and excited for who they have yet to be, confident in the choices she has made and ready for those to come.<br />
So, until then I just wake up every day and wonder....WHAT IF there was a gorgeous guy in my kitchen making Hazelnut coffee? Oh hell, I would have to get up!<br />
Just bring me the coffee!<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
<br />
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-2537145533741388692011-07-01T13:49:00.001-05:002011-07-03T14:22:55.651-05:00Things I've Done...Things I Wish 2011I thought it fitting to make a "Half Way Through Year 2011" list. Why? Well, because it's July 1st and that's half way through year 2011. Try to keep up! :)<br />
So, most of you know I have been crazy busy since last August. And that I am not a consistent blogger despite my attempts to be. And that I usually write about kids...my book....my addiction to coffee, Dr. Pepper, and cigarettes, or I just babble.<br />
Well, this post is not a venture away from the norm. I am going to post about kids, my book, my addiction to coffee, Dr. Pepper, and cigarettes, and I am going to babble. It's just going to be in an organized "list". Yeah, I know, exciting, huh? Yeah, I know....I need to get out more.<br />
<br />
So, here we go. A list of things I've done and things I still wish (either for or about) half way through year 2011...<br />
(in no particular order)<br />
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Survived Blizzard 2011...<br />
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This is not my driveway but is courtesy of my friend's facebook page the morning after. Thank, RB! </div>
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Lived through yet another Valentine's Day<br />
Saw my book cover for the first time.<br />
Approved my final edit.<br />
Did a radio interview.<br />
Kept a promise to a friend.<br />
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First person I ever told that I was writing a book and promised him the first copy.</div>
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Love ya, Skippy, (aka K.H.)</div>
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Released Just Sippy to the public...With a fantastic PARTY!<br />
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(Still feeling gratitude and love for all who attended!) </div>
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Received Elton John concert tickets that night! AMAZING!<br />
Started Book tour in Colorado. Spent 3 glorious weeks there.<br />
April 12, 2011 SAW ELTON JOHN IN CONCERT! Don't mean to scream but seriously, it was ELTON!<br />
Promoted book throughout Colorado, Nebraska, and Iowa<br />
Back at home, I planted flowers and gave my yard much needed color!<br />
Spent a weekend in Omaha with my bestie and had another book signing.<br />
Proposed to John Cusack. (more than once, actually!)<br />
Had a Mother's Day picnic with the kiddos<br />
Did a book signing at the Farmer's Market and tasted the best cantaloupe of my life!<br />
Spent many Wednesday's in<a href="http://bit.ly/kcNGN0"> "The Joe Zone" </a>(Click the link to learn more about these glory days)<br />
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The Joe's "Family Famous" rendition of <i><b>The Star Spangled Banner</b></i>. Classic!</div>
Spent Sundays with kiddos for family day; watching movies, playing board games, sitting on the deck, and eating large quanities of food!<br />
Received great reviews of my book, <i><b>Just Sippy</b></i>. Read some of them <a href="http://kimberlyjcoleman.blogspot.com/p/reviews.html">here</a>. And on <a href="http://amzn.to/jIwhgO">Amazon</a>!<br />
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Celebrated 40 years of marriage with my parents! <br />
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THIS was a good time!</div>
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Wrote songs with my daughter</div>
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Filmed my daughter singing her own songs. (Videos coming soon, I promise)</div>
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Started being a little more faithful to my blog. And Twitter. </div>
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Started a "full blown, now is the time to get serious, no more kidding around, revamp the resume, personalize all cover letters" job search!</div>
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Drank an obsessive amount of coffee.</div>
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Cut back on Dr. Pepper</div>
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Thought about cutting my hair on several occasions</div>
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Thought about dieting on several occasions</div>
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Made a lot of new friends, in person, and on Twitter, Facebook, and in the Blog world.</div>
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Started a new story.</div>
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Saw awesome fireworks at local carnival (cried like a baby...Weird, I know...it's a flaw)</div>
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Rode a ferris wheel</div>
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Changed that new story</div>
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Took a break from that story</div>
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Welcomed my mother back for a visit.</div>
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Cleaned my house profusely before my mother's visit.</div>
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Sang karaoke</div>
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Experienced the best 6 months of my life!</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Now, for my wishes...</i></span></div>
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Weight loss</div>
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Good hair days</div>
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A fantastic employer to realize I am all that AND a bag of chips and need a snack! </div>
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See glorious fireworks! </div>
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Be #1 on Amazon. (Hey these are wishes!)</div>
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George Clooney to stop waiting for me and get married already! I hate being responsible for all these super models' broken hearts. It's just not fair. MOVE ON GEORGE!</div>
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Be on Ellen <a href="http://bit.ly/k0L4Pc">(click here for post about going on Ellen)</a></div>
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Get my daughter to go viral on youtube (Videos soon, I promise)</div>
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Have another picnic</div>
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Go camping and fishing</div>
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GET A JOB!</div>
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Forever "In the Joe Zone" days!</div>
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My son to suddenly realize taking out the trash is his job!</div>
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My grass to be mowed regularly.</div>
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Benefits! (note to possible future employer...lack of this is NOT a deal breaker! Seriously. Not a deal breaker.)</div>
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Time to organize my house</div>
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Have a successful, "sorry, I'm sold out" garage sale!</div>
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Go to garage sales (if the above is accomplished, I will have so much room!)</div>
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A bigger, less expensive house. (I know....wishes, remember?)</div>
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Have a functional kitchen! (you have no idea! Design on a Dime couldn't fix this!)</div>
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A Dishwasher</div>
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GET A JOB! (Attention all employers...check your mail....I'm in there! And I ROCK!)</div>
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Open my own business. (great idea/no capital. Attention: Investors....LOL!)</div>
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Go back to school (This should have been #1, if it was in order. Just sayin')</div>
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Win the lottery!</div>
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Write more songs with my daughter. (she's a genius.)</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Last night I wrote words and in less than 10 minutes, she had melody!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> It was nuts! Video soon...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>WAIT... </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>I do have a blooper.....she would kill me....</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>If she knew...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Okay, but promise not to tell her. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Oh, and don't hold it against me as a blogger, writer, friend, person, or parent....</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>SHE CUSSES REALLY BAD IN IT! </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Like a sailor. Just once. And she actually SINGS it.....well, okay. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><i>Send your kids out of the room</i></span> and then play the video. </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Remember, it's a blooper......oh, and don't tell her!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><b>JENNIFER'S BLOOPER VIDEO!</b></i></span></div>
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LMAO! We laughed so hard! It was excellent! </div>
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Well, this post is long enough and if you are even still reading, well, thank you so much. It wasn't my intent to really babble this much.</div>
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You know I can really sum it up by saying that I have had a great 2011 so far.</div>
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Yes, it has had it's ups and it's downs.</div>
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It is getting a little scary.</div>
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But, I have great kids and awesome parents and I know it is going to be okay!</div>
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Did I mention I would really like a job?</div>
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Until next time,</div>
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Kimberly</div>
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-81157395674359178202011-06-24T03:01:00.000-05:002011-06-24T03:01:39.170-05:00Employers Hate That!**<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, as you all may have figured out, my mother stayed an
extra week. That of course would be why I have been so quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that she had me duct-taped to a time-out
chair or anything—just busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while I
promised you a run-down of the pre-arrival, actual visit and post departure
details, I am opting out of that now, as there is no need to burden you with
the amount of cleaning supplies necessary to please my mother. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>(The jury is still out on that anyway…not sure
there are enough scouring pads in existence to deem her pleased.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she did have
a good time here, a nice flight home and is now snuggling with her cats—one a
cross-eyed , <i>“I own this house but don’t talk to me”</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>male cat named Mickey Blue Eyes, and the
other, a beautiful long haired female Siamese, with an attitude, named Cleo. It’s
quite possible she once belonged to Hitler. She even has the mustache. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, Mom is safe and sound and that is the important thing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, now, what will I burden you with? Well, if you pay
attention, you will know I am job hunting. Yes, I said job hunting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To those of you out there wondering about the
fact I wrote a book—please Google “starving writer”—that crap is <i><b>real!</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, about job hunting. I like to refer to the process as
<i>killing the self-esteem one resume at a time</i>. And while that could be negative, I
am turning it positive and just revamping my current standing in the self-esteem
department. Let’s see if I can elaborate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First, I have always considered myself to be dependable and
hard-working. Second, I am honest and loyal. Third, I am motivated and a team
player. Perhaps this overdose of high self-esteem is hurting me. For example:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dependable and hard-working means I will arrive every day
and do my job well. I will go above the call of duty, thus deserving an excellent report at the end of probation evaluation in 90 days and maybe even get a little raise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><b>Employers hate that!</b> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Honest and loyal means I am trustworthy and I will learn all
I can to improve my skills and have huge potential as a long term employee.
There will be no reason to lay me off or terminate our relationship. That could
lead to more hours, perhaps generate a nomination for Employee of the Month…my own
parking place, and maybe, even <i>benefits!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Employers hate that!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Motivated and a team player means that I don’t need babysat
or supervised and I am well liked by my fellow employees. That means I could outshine
my supervisor. Maybe outshine them right out of a job and the other employees
would love me even more and, quite likely, throw me a party! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Employers hate that!</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With this new knowledge of the system, awareness of potential
employer fear, and sheer desperation, I have devised a fool proof criteria for
getting a job. It involves those dreaded interview questions…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>#1)</b> I will answer questions with questions. For instance,
when they ask <i>“Why do you want to work here?”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will answer, <b><i>“Why wouldn’t I want to work here? You work here and you are
awesome!”</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>#2)</b> I will openly discuss my weaknesses as if employment
there will cure me. <i><b>“I tend to run late, but I want to be here so much, I will
show up yesterday!”</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>#3)</b>When asked to describe conflict at my last job, I will
explain,<b><i> "my lawyer says I can’t discuss it but the judge scared me so bad,
I won’t ever do it that way again!"</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>#4)</b> When they ask why they should hire me, I will say, <b><i>"I
work cheap, never need a raise, won’t expect many hours, laugh at the idea of
benefits and"</i></b>— the sure fire way to land the job…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>"I can ask 'Do you want fries with that?' in 3 different
languages!"</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like I said, killing the self-esteem one resume at a time! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until Next Time,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kimberly <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
**Please be assured this post is not meant to offend any of the
following:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
people who sell fries, French or otherwise; Hitler buffs or Siamese
cat lovers; people with low, high or no self-esteem; people who use duct-tape; people
who have been advised by their lawyer or scared by a judge; and finally, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
any
employer who welcomes potential Employees of the Month or by some chance has my
resume on their desk.</div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-74599790270798074482011-06-11T09:04:00.046-05:002011-06-11T09:29:48.548-05:00My Mother's Coming...CLEAN!Do any of you have this response to an announced visit from your mother? Can there really be an entire post about it? Well, in my life the answer to question one is "OMG, YES!" and for the second question, "I could write a BOOK about it" but we will just go with a post...(she READS my BOOKS)<br />
<br />
So, that will be the plan....my next post will be dedicated to my mother's visit...in it's entirety. Pre-arrival through departure. Although, it may go beyond that as she will haunt me for 3 weeks, remembering each detail of my house, my habits, and the inventory of my refrigerator.<br />
<br />
I would love to start now and write the whole post but..... SHE IS STILL HERE!<br />
<br />
Gotta go for now....she's coming! Brillo pads? She just asked for brillo pads. This can't be good.....<br />
<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-59423034880351462912011-05-31T14:21:00.002-05:002011-07-03T14:29:35.364-05:00What My Kids Would Say If...<div class="MsoNormal">
You may or may not know, I have this fantasy that indicates I think I am someone special, and should be on <a href="http://ellen.warnerbros.com/">The Ellen Show</a>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This goal has nothing to do with me writing a book. In fact, in a letter to Ellen, back in ’06, I told her I wanted to be her first un-famous guest. I would still qualify!</div>
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I told my kids we need to start making “Why We Should Be on Ellen “ videos and submit them. </div>
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“Make them go viral,” I said and my son’s response was, “but WE don’t wanna go on Ellen--you do”. [he is wrong about that…my daughters would LOVE to go on Ellen!]</div>
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Okay, well, my kids won’t write her. I tell them to write her and tell her how great I am. They won’t. They won’t make the videos either. </div>
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So, I had this idea today that I would write to her- AS them. Well, that didn’t quite turn out. </div>
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So I just decided to write what my kids would say if asked, “Tell Us About Your Mom”</div>
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So here it is:</div>
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<b>What My Kids Would Say About Me If…</b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">IN ORDER OF BIRTH [have to do it this way or they fight over somebody being a favorite-I don’t have a favorite]</span></div>
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<b>Adam:</b> Uh-I don’t know. Will she read this? Uh-she’s alright, I guess.<i> [smiles and looks over his shoulder like someone is going to jump out and surprise him]</i> Uh-she’s my mom?<i> [says as question, believing it to be a test of right/wrong answers.] </i>Uh…<i>[struggling to think—eyes brighten—big grin]</i> She wrote a book! It’s about—<i>[slumps slightly]</i> uh-a…little girl?<i> [looks at wife] </i>Ah, hell, I don’t know…ask her <i>[points to wife]</i> She knows that stuff.</div>
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<b>Anika:</b> Ki**’s great. Oh, you guys call her Kimberly, don’t you? Yeah, she’s cool. She’s my mother-in-law. We actually went out once. To a karaoke bar. I surprisingly had a good time. It was fun.<i> [looks at Adam. Adam shrugs, confused]</i></div>
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<b>Adam/Anika</b><i><b> </b>[in unison-</i> yelling into air] JENNA!</div>
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<i>~Enter small 6-year-old child with an over abundant amount of brunette hair topped with princess tiara, carrying a frog in one hand and a Barbie in the other. Looks first at Adam and says “Tape this on there, will ya?” Handing him both of her possessions. He obliges.</i></div>
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<b>Jenna:</b> <i>[looking at her mother, confused] </i>What?<i><br />
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<b>Anika:</b><i> [whispering]</i> Talk about Grammy</div>
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<b>Jenna:</b> I LOVE GRAMMY! Can I have my frog back now?</div>
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<b>Adam/Anika: </b><i>[slightly short of unison] </i> NICK! <i></i></div>
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<b>Adam: </b>Ask Nick. He’s her favorite.</div>
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<b>Nick: </b>She’s alright. <u>SHE</u> thinks she is pretty cool. I guess she is. She wrote a book and it’s published. I read it along time ago, before it was a book-it’s good. She loves playing the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon">Kevin Bacon Game</a>. She is getting senile. No not really. But she probably will, someday. It’s gonna be great! We are so gonna mess with her! <i>[looks at Adam. They both nod and snicker. Jonathan lets out a big “ha ha”]</i></div>
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<b>Adam: </b>Oh yeah it is.<i> [high fives Nick and Jonathan]</i></div>
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<b>Anika:<i> </i></b><i>[smacks Adam in the shoulder] </i>Stop it Adam!<i> [yells into other room]</i> Hey, Jessica. Come tell stuff about your mom.</div>
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<b>Jessica:</b> <i>[enters room with one dangling iPod earplug]</i> MY mom? Oh<i> [smiles sweetly] </i>okay. She’s great. She’s really pretty. People say I look exactly like her. Oh, not that I think I am pretty, but people say that all the time. I’m not pretty. But she is. She’s a foxy mama.<i> [says with a growl and flirty raised eyebrows] </i>Oh, and she is really easy to scare. We do it all the time. Just stand behind a door and say “BOO”! She always jumps. She went airborne once. We should have done it on video. Oh, and she wrote a book. It’s really good. And she sings karaoke. Are there prizes for this? Do I keep going? Cause I can. She’s really short. She has really pretty eyes. She dyed her hair blue by accident once. It was super funny. Okay. I’m stopping now. Give Jennifer a turn. I have to go straighten my hair.</div>
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<b>Jennifer: </b> What are we doing? I am NOT playing the Kevin Bacon game. I hate that game. Oh. Mom? Mom’s awesome. She is always there when I need to talk. We are a lot alike. I write too. I write songs, mostly, but, I have a book started. She does make me pay rent though, which I think is crap. But, I finally got my own room now. With a door. It’s awesome. Wanna see it?<i> [siblings yell at her to talk about their mom- not her room]</i> I was talkin’ about Mom! She let me move my room out of the basement into her office. That’s awesome. We wrote a song together the other night-well, part of a song- and then she ditched me. She is awesome, though. But, I’m done playing now. I wanna go play my guitar. Ask Nick-he’s her favorite. <i>[told by others that Nick already had a turn]</i> Oh, well then, ask Jonathan-she spoils him!</div>
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<b>Jonathan: </b>Oh man! Why are you asking ME? I don’t know. She wrote a book. I have her eyes. But mine are cooler. <i>[Jennifer demands the others yell at him for talking about himself. They remind her she went to go play her guitar-she stomps off “fine I don’t wanna play this game anyway!” The others laugh-more high-fives exchanged] </i></div>
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<b>Jonathan</b> [continues]: Mom is really annoying.<i> [“JONATHAN!” The others yell in unison, except Adam-he snickers-Anika punches him again] </i>Well, she is. I hate it when she says the word “pompous”. And when she tries to talk slang. </div>
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<b>Jessica:</b> You think that stuff is funny. You are always making your facebook status stuff she says.</div>
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<b>Jonathan: </b>Yeah, she did say “I just try to keep it real” the other day. That was pretty funny. Oh, and remember when she didn’t know what “that’s what he said” meant? And she kept sayin’ over and over- THAT was hilarious. And, how she ends every word with a “y”. Like thingy and, what did she say the other day? “Facey-book” What the heck? </div>
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Oh, but, she did say last night that her and somebody were “really tight” and I told her “NO! DO NOT SAY THAT! Absolutely not!”</div>
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<b>Jessica: </b>Who did she say that about?</div>
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<b>Jonathan:</b> I don’t know. Her and Ellen, I think-OH no, wait-it was about YOU and Ellen. She was saying since Ellen follows you on Twitter, you guys were really tight. I don’t know. It’s Mom. Whatever!</div>
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<b>Jessica:</b> Ellen and I ARE tight. Man, we are like this! [holds up crossed fingers]</div>
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<b>Nick:</b> You wish!</div>
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<b>Adam:</b> Ellen follows you on <a href="http://www.twitter.com/">TWITTER</a>? What the heck?</div>
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<b>Nick:</b> Duh, Adam where have you been?</div>
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<b>Anika:</b> Even I knew that!</div>
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<b>Adam:</b> Nobody tells me anything</div>
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<b>Nick: </b> You just don’t pay attention</div>
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<b>Adam:</b> Shut up, Nick!</div>
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<b>Jennifer: </b><i>[yells from the other room]</i> None of you are talking about Mom! </div>
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<b>[in unison]</b>: Yeah we are!</div>
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<b>Jennifer:</b> Did you even say Mom wants to BE on Ellen? No, you didn’t.</div>
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<b>Nick:</b> Oh yeah, she wants to be on Ellen. But, I ain’t gonna be on TV</div>
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<b>Jessica:</b> Whatever Nick. If Mom goes on Ellen, you will too, go.</div>
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<b>Nick:</b> I didn’t say I wouldn’t GO- I said I wouldn’t be on TV</div>
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<b>Jessica: </b>Heck, I will! I better be on TV!</div>
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<b>Jennifer:</b> I am the one who should be on TV!</div>
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<b>Jonathan:</b> Not about you, Jennifer!</div>
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<b>Adam:</b> Wait! [stands up with hands in air] WAIT!<b><u><i> MOM’S</i></u></b> GONNA BE ON <u><b><i>ELLEN</i></b></u> ??</div>
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<b>Unison: </b>Shut up, Adam!</div>
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<b>Mom (aka, Me-aka, Kimberly)</b><i> [enters room]:</i> Ooh, what’s going on? Are we playing the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Bacon"> Kevin Bacon game</a>? I’m down!</div>
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[Jonathan changes his<a href="http://www.facebook.com/"> Facebook</a> status...] </div>
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Probably should have called it "Why I Will Never Get on Ellen!" LOL!<br />
P.S. Ellen really DOES follow my daughter on Twitter! (@jessicaangelina Go check it out!) <br />
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That's all </div>
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Until next time,</div>
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Kimberly</div>
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-74489259873359613432011-05-27T16:36:00.001-05:002011-05-30T16:31:50.592-05:00My Kids are Cooler than Your Kids....<div class="MsoNormal">During each of my pregnancies, I had the normal fears. I prayed the baby was healthy, had all it’s fingers and toes, was a boy/girl. You know, all the normal stuff. And I had <i>these</i> normal, thoughts… <i>I hope I don’t gain too much weight</i>.<i> I hope I lose all this weight</i>. But, then…I had<b><i> this one</i></b>: <i> </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>I hope my kid is cool.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yes, I thought that. I obsessed over the thought that my child would be a nerd. I feared a dork, even. I know what you are thinking…who <b>IS</b> this woman and <b>HOW</b> could she think this way?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, let me tell you.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was young, but, I was the epitome of “cool”. I listened to the best music, knew the latest dance moves, and could, as previously and publicly stated, I could talk like a leprechaun. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Armed with a quick wit and an ability to carry on the deepest of conversations, I had a battalion of friends and family and was the "bomb diggity” at most parties. [urban definition of bomb diggity meaning “awesome”, not full-figured.]</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, with all that criteria, of course, I obsessed over the future social standing of my child in public situations.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, let me tell you what happened.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Due to my exuberant personality and my approach to parenting, I had the most incredible children. My first two, Adam and Nicholas, were amazing.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Adam was such a little jabberbox, with his own special language, you couldn’t help but love him. You couldn’t <i>understand</i> him, but you<i> had</i> to love him! He was animated and quite the comedian. He played a wicked plastic guitar and was the destined to be the next Evel Knievel the way he handled a Big Wheel. Thumb sucking and blanket toting, he passed the “cool” test.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The younger of the two, Nicholas [nicknamed Nicky,by my mother AND against my wishes-of course, it stuck], had big blue eyes that would pierce through to my soul. I told my mother when he was born, “I can’t put him down. He is just too cute.” Her advice was quick and fierce. “PUT THAT CHILD DOWN, NOW!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I did not.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Six months later, with my Nicky sitting on my foot and clinging to my leg, I called my mother, “This child will NOT let me go anywhere!” As I walked through my apartment, dragging him along, she replied victorious, “I told you so”. Hence our love for Randy Travis began. </div><div class="MsoNormal">He was covering Randy Travis songs by the time he was 2 years old with such compassion and heart, I would melt at the sound of it. And he could understand Adam, so I was finally able to communicate with him, as well. That made my Nicky even more amazing and, therefore, he passed the “cool” test.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next in the line-up-and formally known as “The Girls”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My first, Jessica, a princess at birth, was called precocious by my OB/GYN. That comment came after a statement she made to him about seeing her mother naked. [“boy was my face red” moment] She was known in our circle of friends and family for her long blonde locks that, if stretched to capacity, would have been taller than her. She had the Barbie vanity and used it daily to make herself “beaut-ful”. </div><div class="MsoNormal">She adored Bill Clinton and aspired to marry him. Bizarre watching a two-year-old fly from another room, ditching Barbie and various Little Mermaid paraphernalia in her wake, to perch in front of the television just because she heard his voice. When I asked her why she wanted to be the President’s wife, she thoughtfully changed her goal and said, “No, I will be The President. (at 2 ½ she had the role of his wife figured out) </div><div class="MsoNormal">While my father and her lovingly played with her new Barbies one Christmas, Dad, being Dad, told her “boys toys are more fun than girl ones”. Without missing a beat, and leaving him speechless, she replied, “Well, girls are smarter than boys.” She passed the “cool” test.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Enter daughter #2! Jennifer! She cried, she screamed, she had colic! OH MY GOD! This is the one, I thought. This is the one who will be…well, anyway.</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I needed a babysitter, I had to pretend she would nap the whole time I was gone. My father, who is the most wonderful man the universe, would ask “Jennifer, too?” I could always hear the fear in his voice. She frightened all of us, as well. </div><div class="MsoNormal">As she grew into toddlerhood, the screaming stopped. Only to be replaced with a little OCD and some traces of narcissism. [hats off to anyone suffering from either disorder-no disrespect intended.]</div><div class="MsoNormal">When she wasn’t cleaning everything-running around saying “uckky” to each microscopic piece of paper on the floor-she was telling us that she was prettier and smarter than everyone in the whole world. Many lessons were given on vanity, bragging, and the fact that<i><b> I </b></i>was the parent. </div><div class="MsoNormal">But, through it all, she emerged an adorable five-year-old and the family entertainer. She would climb up on top of the kitchen table and sing to us, making up the words as she went. She developed a strong empathy toward animals of all kinds, bringing home a broken baby bird egg to bury and capturing a wounded crow that she named Midnight. [*Note to Adam: you still owe your sister a parrot for agreeing to let it go, but thank you!]</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once while at dinner, she swatted and, to her horror, killed a fly. Carefully scooping it up and grabbing the garden spade from under the sink, she ran off to her makeshift cemetery in our backyard. We waited for her. We knew better not to. Suddenly her voice rang in, through the open kitchen window,</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Somebody gonna come out here while I sing or what?” </div><div class="MsoNormal">It was more of a demand, but she passed the “cool” test. [she will probably read this and I am still afraid of her so, yeah, well anyway…]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then, finally, the baby was born. [I know, right…How many kids ARE there? Last one…]</div><div class="MsoNormal">I named him Jonathan. Now, he was just born cool. He was the quietest, calmest, most cuddly baby, EVER! As he grew out of infancy and into being a little boy, he breathed more of the same. He had baby tricks. Being the youngest of five, he was constantly being talked to, played with, and “trained”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Adam and Nicky [known after this point as Nick-*sad face*] taught him to spell carbohydrate off the back of the cereal box when he was 3. [bingo ladies "awed" over him at the grocery store] Jennifer had him convinced he was her dog and would take him for walks. [complete with leash and an occasional “bark”] and he could imitate Clint Eastwood “Make my day”, with thumb/finger gun and Jim Carrey “Smokin’”, with the funniest expression known to man. He truly was like having a puppy but he didn’t pee on the floor.</div><div class="MsoNormal">He passed the “cool” test.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so, after 27 years of motherhood, I can say, I worried for nothing. My kids are cool! </div><div class="MsoNormal">But, where are they now, you ask? [pics over to the right and up or down)<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, Adam didn’t turn into Evel Knievel-he lost his license as a habitual offender for speeding. On a happy note though, he is the epitome of cool to his two little kids and new wife. Outfitted in plaid golf shorts and a few ugly facial piercings he can be found riding his 3-wheel bike down to our local river to fish [or in the words of Stephen Wright, “to stand on the bank, looking like an idiot.”] </div><div class="MsoNormal">He never catches much and pretty sure he still sucks his thumb.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nick, as he prefers to be called, once aspired to have the most college degrees or to be computer hacker. He did neither one. He dabbles in penny stocks, works full-time, comes over every Sunday and says he can’t wait for my Alzheimer’s to go full bore. “I’m gonna so pretend I don’t know you.” He tells all the time and then laughs[insert evil Nicky laugh]</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I burst his bubble when I tell him I won’t remember that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jessica is beautiful and quirky. She thinks Will Ferrell is sexy, has favorite aisles at Wal-mart [laundry soap & and towels["cause they are so colorful"], and when most people are scrambling to get to the safety of their homes, during a tornado, she is looking for her keys to go chase it. </div><div class="MsoNormal">She is also the most caring person I know. But, there is a downside. She cries a lot! She cried when Ace young got kicked off American Idol, when old people mow their own grass, and when she sees an Oompa Loompa.[ I know, we ALL cried when Ace Young left]</div><div class="MsoNormal">But, a lover of anything Irish, McDonald’s sweet tea and music, she can often be found driving around, with her IPod, searching for a Mickey D’s. And, if you want to know ANY song lyrics, just ask Jessica.[except Nickelback-they make her nauseous]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jennifer? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, she is a singer/songwriter who plays guitar[self-taught] and wants to move to Nashville someday. She is also working on her first novel, a paranormal tale, that she won’t let me read[insert big sad face] She has her days and nights mixed up, except on payday when she is up by noon. Other days she’s usually up just in time to make it to work so we don’t see her much. </div><div class="MsoNormal">My favorite music to listen to while I write, is hers!</div><div class="MsoNormal">We are all, still, basically, afraid of her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jonathan? Well, at fourteen, he and his girlfriend at the time, announced they were going to have a baby. WOW! FOURTEEN! Yes. I know. My mother yelled at me for not talking to him about it. I told her I did talk to them both, about it, but, ultimately, I wasn’t there at the time of decision, so what can you do? I chose the happy road. No sense being mad for 9 months. Flip a switch and get happy? No. I chose happy. Happy, as life could always be worse. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Sadly, their relationship didn’t take the happy road and they split up shortly after the birth of their beautiful daughter, Natalie. [featured in the video on this blog]</div><div class="MsoNormal">And now, he is the best father since my own. </div><div class="MsoNormal">At 17, he shares physical custody, 50-50, with Natalie’s mother. They live with me, but he is the dad. He is the giver of baths, the preparer of meals, and the teacher of rules. At 17, he is a great father. [told ya he was born cool]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Except, there is one thing. He doesn’t think Chuck Norris jokes are funny. What is wrong with him? How can you not think Chuck Norris jokes are funny? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Chuck Norris, after all, is the reason Waldo is hiding! How amazing is that? [kudos here to Chuck Norris joke guy who thought up that one-I don’t know who you are, but WOW! That is funny shi*]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, what is my purpose here?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Did I miss a memo? Is there a purpose? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, crap. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I just think my kids are cool. Sorry!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Until next time,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kimberly</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-5495189185171226022011-05-26T11:40:00.002-05:002011-06-09T17:10:20.011-05:00The Other Part of MeOkay, I just have to share this video. Then I have to go clean my house. Yeah. The dishes! YIKES! They are scaring me today. Normally they just sit there and look stupid but....yeah well, anyway. This is my granddaughter, Natalie. She spent the last few months watching Idol with me and she was definitely a James fan! Then a Casey fan. She would swap back and forth. But the last week, she jumped over to Team Scotty!<br />
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This morning she was at breakfast and just started singing. We have no idea what she is singing about in the beginning but in the end, it's pretty clear....<i>Ode To Scotty</i>.<br />
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Hope you enjoy the video. It's proof that my life is awesome! I am truly blessed! Enjoy!<br />
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Until next time<br />
KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-16693584522033964302011-05-25T15:25:00.001-05:002011-07-09T10:54:21.516-05:00In The "Joe Zone"So, if you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you may have heard me refer to being "in the Joe Zone". Well, I am gonna tell us what that is. Then when you see it in my Twitter feed or posted on Facebook, you can smile, send me a smile, and know I am in a great place with two of the greatest people in this world! Here goes:<br />
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In my previous blog post, you know, the ten defining moments one? Well, some of those moments included my father and my brother. In that post, it was revealed that my father has cancer and my brother has cerebral palsy. <br />
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Their names are Joe. (things are starting to click now, huh?)<br />
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I will begin with my brother.<br />
We are besties. He is a couple years younger than I am, just a smidge cuter, but I make better coffee. He will tell you his coffee is better but he lies. (not really, LOL) Oh, me making better coffee, that's true. Him lying isn't.<br />
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He was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at 18 months of age. (it was later changed to cerebellar atrophy but because of his improvements over the years, that diagnosis doesn't make sense) As a child, I never knew that Joe was different. He was just my little brother. And we were best friends.<br />
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I can remember putting braces on his legs at night. They were big hunks of dull metal with grungy brown leather straps that imprisoned him and held his legs together, unable to bend or move. I hated when he cried and yelled. And, I can remember saying “It’s okay, Jody. This will help you learn to walk.” I know now, I simply mimicked my mother, as I had no idea why he couldn’t walk.</div>
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He didn’t speak either. Grunts and pointing was his form of communication. And then my step-father made him speak. I remember thinking how cruel his was. “Jody can’t say milk!” I cried from my spot at the dinner table. I wanted to run over and give him milk but it wasn’t allowed until he said it. “Mu” finally came out. I would like to publicly honor my step-father for being so “cruel”! </div>
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After that, he started to talk. Not perfectly, but he talked all the same. Being so close in age, adults in our family, my mother; grandmother; uncle; everyone really, would holler at me, “Kimmy, what is Jody sayin?” I always knew. Every time! </div>
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I started trying to teach him to walk. Sitting facing each other, I would put his brown, high-top orthopedic shoes on top of my feet. Holding hands we would stand up. Oh, how many times we fell. Over and over. But, we would succeed too. And then I would take steps, and with him balanced on top of my not-so-white sneakers, he would too. Pretty soon, we were dancing that way. </div>
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He got crutches then, that had the wrist strap and he would get up on his own. He got pretty good at those. After a few years, he could take steps alone. He found things to grab in his path; the chair, the doorway, another chair, a doorway, a buffet in the dining room, the table, the doorway- you get the picture.</div>
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By age 11, he had it down. He could walk!</div>
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Shortly after his 13<sup>th</sup> birthday, he found baseball. He became a walking, talking, baseball encyclopedia! He could tell you stats, games up, games back and any other baseball related info you needed, including when the games were on, where they were playing and what local channel. </div>
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At 14, he entered public school. At 18, he graduated.</div>
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Now, at 46 and still my best friend, he is an independent man; a hard working sports fanatic/geru, who loves coffee, collecting autographs of famous people (and he has some good ones!), and his cat Mrs. Goldberg. And yes, she is named after the wrestler. Well, she is named after his late cat, “Goldberg”, who was in fact, named for the wrestling giant.</div>
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Oh, and he is also a member of the American Checker Federation and plays in national tournaments all over the United States. I have not beat him since the 80’s. Instead we go to local concerts and have family day every Sunday. Here we are today:</div>
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Now, for Dad; the original Joe.</div>
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Okay so he’s my dad and I’m gonna say he is the coolest guy in the world. But, he really is. Ask anyone. He can’t be explained in words. Even for a writer. </div>
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He writes too. He has three books out there. Zapata’s Horse –The Book of While, Ogallala:The Rise of Morning Sun (someone in Nebraska asked him NOT to publish this one), and The Minimal Man. Zapata’s Horse is my favorite, although Minimal Man was good too. As for Ogallala…I will say I can see why Nebraska was mad! LOL! Sales on that one will probably soar now, huh?</div>
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He is true in his mind and pure in his heart. He doesn’t hate. Not even people who should be hated. He is a die hard Cardinal fan and even applied to be head coach. Actually got a letter back thanking him for his application. Kept it on file. When we were kids, he worked at an antennae factory and would find the biggest box he could fit in the car and wrap it at Christmas for HIMSELF! </div>
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When my boys asked him who Santa was, he said he was. He couldn’t lie. It was okay, though. My boys just thought that was why they couldn’t go in the shed. (he kept the reindeer in there) He makes wicked homemade popcorn and a mean Shirley Temple. Makes a pretty awesome Bottom Bouncer too but there is a 2 drink limit for good reason…LOL!</div>
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He has always made a point to tell me he is proud of me. No matter what, he loves me and he always makes sure I know it. My brothers and I truly are, the luckiest kids in the world!</div>
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In 1998, Dad called me and the horrible words came out of his mouth, “I have cancer.”</div>
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In the days that immediately followed, we were in a fog. There was immediate surgery to remove a grossly invaded kidney and similar adrenal gland. There were months of medicine, weight loss, nausea, and shock. In the years since then, there has been more of the same, but,with moments of hope and victory.</div>
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Today, it’s the same. Medicine, weight loss, nausea, shock, and now-fear.</div>
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He has given up all his disposal organs. The big demon has invaded his pancreas and his liver. We wait. Remind him to eat. Hope he doesn’t catch a bad cold and visit him every Wednesday at his workplace- Our local VFW!</div>
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That’s where you will find me, every Wednesday.</div>
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At the local VFW, with the bartender, my dad, Joe; who makes a wicked Shirley Temple and an equally toxic Bottom Bouncer and with my little brother, Joe; a checker playing, coffee loving sports guru who can’t make a decent cup of coffee.</div>
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So now you know....The Joe Zone; my favorite place to be!</div>
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Smiling right now cause it's Wednesday!</div>
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Until next time,</div>
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Kimberly</div>
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Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-19402824758203055212011-05-21T14:14:00.003-05:002011-05-21T14:34:40.684-05:00Top Ten Defining MomentsI have this friend. She is amazing beyond words. I laugh so hard my face hurts for days. And she makes me think. She is a therapist so I get a lot of free counseling. LOL! <br />She asked me the other day to come up with my ten most defining moments. Can you believe that? In all my life, with 3 ex-husbands, five children, 3 grandchildren and oodles of strangeness in my head, she wants me to come up with only 10 defining moments. <br />Of course, at first thought, I was down to five as the births of my children would have to be there. Well, I thought about it and decided they were not going to be on this list. (YIKES!)<br />While each one is special in their own right and each birth unique, those moments did not define me. As I became a mother long before their birth. Which took me to my first defining moment. Now, most of these are just in the order I thought of them, or in the order I want to talk about them. They are not chronological nor in order of importance. Except maybe this first one….<br /><br /><br /><b>#1 When I told my father I was having my first child</b><br />It was that moment in time that I felt like a mother. He was so happy and so proud. He picked me up and twirled me around. At that very moment, I knew I was doing something phenomenal! He made me feel like that. I was going to be a mother. And my father will say that is the noblest job in the world. He thinks mothers rank right up there with <i>God, The President, and Stan Musical</i>. Yes, Stan the Man. When he asked when I was due and I replied with “April 25th” He exclaimed, “A SPRING TRAINING BABY!” Definitely, my most defining moment!<br />Now, in no particular order or importance! <br /><br /><b>~~When my husband said he didn’t know if he loved me.</b> <br />That’s all there is to that one. At the time, it was horrifying. Now, I am just grateful!<br /><br /><b>~~When I wrote THE END on <i>Just Sippy</i></b> <br />As a writer, there have many attempts at “the book”. When I started <i>Just Sippy</i> I was at work and the first line came to my head. I immediately wrote it down as a text in my phone. When I went home that night and put it into the computer; I had almost the whole first chapter done that night. I wrote the next day and the next. I just knew. I knew this was the one. I told my mom and my kids. I told my dad. And my friends. For the next several months, they agonized while I wrote and read to them. Finally my son said, I don’t want to know any more. Wait til it’s done. Then I really knew. I started sending chapters to my mom and sister. They were begging for more. I struggled over time lines and events. I re-wrote. Changed the storyline twice. And then one day, it just clicked. Fell into place and I wrote THE END. My friend walked into my office just as I did it and I told her. She jumped up and down and then I cried. It was done. Bittersweet I think as I had spent so much time with my characters, they had become family. It was hard to not be with them everyday.<br />Until I found a publisher, of course, and the word “edit” entered the picture. Welcome back, guys! HA! Enter my next great defining moment <br /><br /><b>~~When I found out <i>Just Sippy</i> was going to be published.</b><br />Enough said really. Can’t put it into words. Seeing it out there. Hearing people say they loved it. There are no words. The moments continue to be defining! I am growing and learning more each and every day more of what makes me who I am and who I have yet to become.<br /><br /><b>~~The day my grandmother died.</b><br />This would be my maternal grandmother. Since I was the product of a teen pregnancy, my maternal grandmother and I were very close. I spent a lot of time with her and my grandfather. She always had heart trouble but as a child I was unaware. I thought ALL grandma’s had those little white pills. She died suddenly one Sunday night when I was 14. I remember my mother running out of the house and I knew something was wrong. She came home late that night and told me she had died. It was the first time someone close to me passed away. I felt so bad for my grandfather as he was just so sad. He and I became closer after that. I felt the need to take care of him. Enter my need to “fix” everything maybe. <br /><br /><b>~~ The day my brother said “I’m not retarded anymore”</b><br />My brother, diagnosed with cerebral palsy and mild retardation at 18 months old, is my best bud! Always has been my shadow. Two years younger I taught him to walk, dress himself, and dance. He has always been there in my life. We never made him feel incapable of doing something. He was always told he could do anything. When he was little he wore a helmet to protect his head from falls. He was never allowed to get up and walk without it. I remember one day when we were about 13 and 15, he was sitting on the couch and he just took his helmet off and said “I am not retarded anymore.” I didn’t think he even knew the word “retarded” as I myself hated it. (Punched a kid once but that is another story). Mom and I both looked at him and Mom asked, “What are you?” Joe just looked at us and said “Just regular”. We laughed and laughed about that. To this day, I feel like we coined the phrase “regular Joe”. And from that day on, Joe was just regular. He never wore that helmet again. He had to do chores and make his own bed. Today, he lives in his own apartment , pays his own bills, and attends and plays in the National Checker Tournament sponsored by the American Checker Federation every year. Just a regular Joe.<br /><br /><b>~~ When I left home at 18</b><br />This one is a given, I think. Everyone probably considers leaving home a defining moment. But, I was 18 and had just graduated high school; As valedictorian, I was definitely heading to college. Nope. I shocked my entire graduating class and my parents by leaving California and moving back to my hometown in Iowa. You know…the “I’m taking a year off to find myself”. Without a plan or a job, I moved in with my grandfather. Within a year, I was married. I didn’t attend college until I was well into my 30’s. <b>**NOTE TO SENIORS-Do NOT take a year off!! GO TO COLLEGE NOW!</b><br /><br /><b>~~The day my Dad said the words “I have cancer”</b><br />This was almost 13 years ago. Those words will never erase from my memory. They resonate in my mind; a permanent stamp in my grey matter. The cancer, found in his mouth was renal cell carcinoma, which if you know anything at all about cancer, that means metastatic cancer, or MOVED from one place to another-in his case kidney to mouth. This was NOT good! He underwent surgery to remove the kidney and an adrenal gland. Years of medicine. He got supper skinny. He got sick again. We had a doctor error. Which led to REALLY REALLY sick! Well, today, Dad still says “I have cancer”. Yes, he is still with us. Still fighting the big fight. It has spread now to other places and he has given all the organs he can. Right now, we are winning with medicine! He can be found handing out cold beer every Wednesday night at our local VFW, telling stories and perfecting the art of making a wicked Shirley Temple. He writes too. He has published 3 of them; Zapata's Horse, Ogallala:The Rise of Morning Sun, and The Minimal Man, all available on Amazon! http://amzn.to/lDQJiI There’s your plug, Dad! I love you!<br /><br /><b>~~SOLD OUT on Amazon</b><br />Self explanatory! And yes, THEY ARE GETTING MORE!! http://amzn.to/jHmtNN <br /><br /><b>~~Having grandchildren</b><br />How much more defined can you be? There really isn’t anything better than when a little mini person calls you Grammy? Or Mimi. Those are my names anyway and it ROCKS! And no, it doesn’t make me feel old at all!!! My son turning 30 in a couple years---yeah, that might!<br /><br />Okay, so there you have it. My Top Ten Defining Moments. What are yours? This is not as easy as it seems. It is actually quite hard and I will think about it for days and wish I would have put something else on it. There are more moments that have defined me and they are either too personal, too sad, too embarrassing, or not suitable for children. HA! <br />So, get to it. Give me yours. Comment here or send me a link to your blog about it.<br />Until next time <br />KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-24744210074454386462011-05-19T01:21:00.003-05:002011-05-19T02:36:11.817-05:00Yes, I Keep Rearranging the Furniture!And "painting" the walls.<br />I am referring to the re-design of the blog. Just trying to find the right look. If you have been here before, the previous green was better than the, before that, black, yes? (WOW, that was a horrible array of commas and screwed up wording. Yeah, well, welcome to my world) Anywhoo....the green didn't work for me. Found myself looking behind me wondering where I was each time I came here... So, I painted. White.<br />It's fresh. It's clean. I needed that. And doing it here was a lot less expensive than doing it to the living room. And less work. And the kids aren't mad at me for it.<br /><br />So, aside from rearranging things (and promoting the book), I have been job hunting. Now, formally known as "slowly killing my self-esteem one resume at a time". It's become an art form to me really. Changing the wording of cover letters to suit the position desired and re-vamping the resume to showcase talents otherwise hidden.(*Note to prospective employers: Please rest assured I did NOT do any of those things to the information sent to you!)<br />I have started to use my people voice around the house. The kids thought my mother was here and the cat hissed at me when I asked her nicely not to vomit in the clean laundry. Yeah, I am that good at it! <br />I hit the mother load at a garage sale a month or so ago. At a church. Business attire! Great clothes. Bargain prices! So, I clean up pretty good. Mastered walking in heels. I wouldn't challenge Kelly Ripa, but I can get around okay. <br />Now, I am not being vain. I went to a seminar on how to interview effectively. The interviewer told me everything was great. Resume looked good. I articulated well. Held myself great. Okay, he didn't know it wasn't good posture, but that I had a zipper malfunction that was about to puncture the skin near my 4th lumbar vertebrae, but still, I did alright.<br />So, now what? Well, until the right employer(with an impeccable taste in employees), calls, I will continue to change the wording on cover letters, re-vamp the resume, and practice my people voice, even if it scares the cat. <br /><br />Maybe I will paint the living room!<br /><br />Until next time,<br />Kimberly<br /><br />P.S. <span style="font-style:italic;">Just Sippy<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> is now available on <span style="font-weight:bold;">AMAZON</span>!!!Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-29874926301901639432011-05-16T18:09:00.002-05:002011-05-16T18:24:38.517-05:00Who is This Man and Why is He Following Me Around?So, apparently there is a man in my future. He's around my age, I think. Maybe; wait, actually a bit younger. He's dark headed. Tall. Thin but not skinny. Attractive enough but not dashingly handsome. I don't know where he came from or where he is going. He's married. He has at least one child; a boy.<br />As a writer, I deal with this "invasion" of my personal space daily. I usually don't mind at all as they generally stay pretty dormant until I call on them. This one, however, is quite, the intruder. He just barged his way into my life and is demanding his story be told. <br />I will, of course, honor that request and do whatever I can for him. His world has become mine and mine is now his. He is my latest character in a world of many. His story is unfolding to me as I write it and as soon as I know more, I will share.<br />For those of you who have asked for the rest of Sippy's story...well, that may have to wait. A sequel may come someday, but for now, I have this man following me around. And I must give him his time.<br />Oh, and he likes baseball. Lord, help me. Does anybody out there know anything about baseball?<br />I guess I should be grateful...could have been the rodeo clown or folk singer that asked to play. At least I know a little about baseball.<br /><br />Until next time,<br />KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-49897904802709228502011-05-13T14:00:00.003-05:002013-01-27T20:46:40.461-06:00FIRST FIVE PAGES OF JUST SIPPY!Okay. So, why haven’t I done this before? I don’t know. But, I suppose now I feel a little more comfortable here. I am trying to lure you in to be my follower. I want more Facebook fans. I want to sell more books. I want to be Twittered about. I am trying to get this out there to the world. I want this story to be read. All of the above.<br />
While in local markets, Just Sippy has done well, and, in Colorado, the home of my publisher, it has done very well, but I want more. Like most things in my life, I want more. More shoes, more caffeine in my coffee, more excuses for my non-dieting days, more chocolate, more money, more free time, more time with the kids, more date nights, more writing time, more novels….the list could go on and on.<br />
So, with that, I give you the first few pages of Just Sippy.<br />
I hope to leave you hanging and wanting more. More of Sippy….<br />
Reviews are welcome. Twitter about it. LIKE my fan page on Facebook. Follow this blog. Write a review. Buy the book! http://www.amazon.com <br />
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Hope you like it.<br />
Until next time,<br />
Kimberly<br />
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FIRST FIVE PAGES OF JUST SIPPY by Kimberly J. Coleman<br />
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Prologue<br />
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Never have been good at tellin’ stories. Mama says I talk too fast, and Daddy says I leave out important stuff like the color the sky was or how the room smelled. I just tell it, is all—the way I see it. Guess I don’t notice the sky much. And all I ever smell is fish. Damn river. Every time it rains, I can’t smell nothin’ but fish. <br />
Most folks don’t notice that smell no more, but I do. And most folks have lived here their whole lives. Even their mama and daddy and granddad and memaw have lived here their whole lives. Memaw. That’s what I call my grandmother. Don’t know why. Never did hear that story. Guess I should of asked. Probably wouldn’t tell it right though, so it don’t really matter none. <br />
I got a better story to tell. It don’t matter if I tell it right or not. Ain’t nobody gonna hear it but you. And nobody else is gonna tell it. So it’s just ’tween you and me. Now, if I get goin’ too fast, well, I’m mighty sorry. If I forget to tell ya a smell or a color, just make one up in yer head. I don’t think color matters none, but the sky here is blue like anyplace else. And like I said, all ya ever smell is fish. <br />
My name’s Sippy. That’s not my given name, of course. When I tell ya my real name, ya can’t laugh. I got two memaws, and Mama and Daddy wanted me named after ’em, but they couldn’t choose one over the other for my first name, so I got two middle names, Bernice and GraceAnna.<br />
Have I told ya yet my daddy loves storytellin’, fables, and anything odd or unusual? Have ya ever heard of The Three Princes of Serendip or Horace Walpole? I’m not surprised none if ya haven’t. From what I gather, there is a fairy tale about some princes who found stuff by accident and whatnot. Well, them princes, they was from Serendip (that’s a country), and they made a real big impression on that Walpole guy. So he made up a word—serendipity — to mean “by accident.” <br />
My daddy said I came to them by accident. So he named me—no laughin’ now—Serendipity! Serendipity Bernice GraceAnna Johnson. But try teachin’ that to a baby brother. It comes out Sippy. And that’s what everybody calls me. Just Sippy.<br />
I got two brothers and two sisters. They got normal names—Thomas Joseph, Rebecca Elizabeth, Emma Ruth, and the baby, James Scott. Of course, to us, they’s Tommy, Becky, Emmy, and Jimmy. Two is older and two is younger. I fit right in the middle. And we got a dog. We call him Whiskey. He’s almost eleven, which is how old I am. Daddy says he ain’t gonna make it much longer. Hope he never says that about me. I guess in dog years, though, eleven is a lot. That’s what Becky told me anyhow. She tells me a lot of the stuff I don’t know. <br />
She told me about our neighbor, old Mr. Baker. Guess he’s not really mean like we all thought. He’s just sad. His wife had an operation years ago, and she couldn’t have babies. So they just stayed alone all their life. When she passed, summer before last, he just got sad. I always heard he was a mean old man and not to go near his gate or he’d come after ya with a chain saw. I never have walked that way home. My friend Max don’t believe Becky and says he’s as mean as all the stories say. Says it’s all true, and he’s seen the saw even.<br />
“Seen it with my own eyes. Hangin’ in the shed when me and Pa did some work for him.” <br />
“That don’t mean nothin’,” I told him. “Daddy’s got a saw himself.”<br />
But he said Mr. Baker’s had blood all over it. <br />
“Drippin’ right down into his hay bales!” <br />
I didn’t believe him none. I think he just likes to show off. He does that a lot. Becky says it’s ’cause he is smitten with me, but I don’t think she’s right about that at all. Max is just a boy, and boys love to show off.<br />
Becky also told me about the curse I’ll be gettin’ soon. All girls get it, she said. She said it will come every month with the full moon, and it’s women’s punishment for what Eve did. I said Memaw never told me anything about that when she taught me about the Bible. I said I never heard such nonsense, but she swears it’s true. Becky wouldn’t swear if it weren’t true.<br />
Now mind ya, nothin’ real excitin’ ever happens around here. We live in Iowa, and well, it’s just like you heard it to be. Quiet. Everybody knows everybody. We don’t have dirt floors, and we aren’t married to our cousins like the jokes say. Although Daddy says Mama’s crazy friend, Dottie Roberts, and her husband Frank are related on her Mama’s side.<br />
“It sure would explain a lot about them kids o’ theirs.” That’s what Daddy said to Mama, and then he reminded her about a time when them kids was on top of their house and they just started jumpin’ off it. “Two of ’em broke their arms, and I think they all got stitches somewhere. They said they was tryin’ to fly!” Then Mama remembered a time those kids were makin’ tents out of blankets. <br />
“Remember? They had one side tucked behind the davenport, and the other side was over a chair. One of them thought it looked like a trampoline and jumped off the back of the davenport right into the middle of that stretched-out blanket.” Mama put her hands on her hips and spun around to face Daddy. “Frank’s mama was sittin’ there. Remember me tellin’ ya? She was holdin’ that blanket in place. Why, it flipped that poor woman right clean outta that chair.” She shook her head. “Looked like a turtle on it’s back when she tried gettin’ up.” <br />
Mama said she was darn mad at those kids. She chased after ’em, but they just ran off gigglin’. Daddy says all them kids are still pretty wild.<br />
Since our town is so small, we hear lots of stories like that, and usually the people are some relation to a neighbor or two. So let me tell ya. When something big does happen, it’s the talk all right. And somebody always manages to know your business. I ain’t figured out yet how that happens, but it does. <br />
My brother, Tommy, skipped school once with Mary Beth Lawrence. He took her down to the river for a picnic, way down on the island side where no one lives or has any reason to be, and I’ll be darned if Daddy didn’t hear about it down in Bakers Flatt, about thirty miles from here. And he knowed it long before they even got done eatin’ the pie Mary Beth stole from her grandmother’s kitchen. Shoot, her grandmother didn’t even know the pie was gone, and the whole town knew they ate it.<br />
My Aunt Lily found out she was gonna be havin’ my cousin Billy from the lady at the beauty shop. Mama said the nurse at the doctor’s office was the sister-in-law of one of the ladies who fixes hair, and she spilled the beans. Becky told me eatin’ beans won’t make me with child; I was glad to hear that, ’cause I hadn’t ate beans in a long time.<br />
Like I said, I’m eleven, which makes it 1973. And my story starts in November… <br />
<br />
Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-12583690935293914762011-05-11T12:47:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:31:19.373-05:00Sucking it in Wearing Sweat Pants!How depressing it that? OMG!<br />I was so excited last week at the doctor's office when my weight was down 15 pounds from my visit in September. Shocked that I had shed that much, but, at the same time realized it was a no-brainer, as I was there back then to get my possessed thyroid under control. <br />So now, as I hold my breath in elastic waist, I ponder, how did I stuff this, plus the equivalent of two average sized bowling balls, into my size 7, non-elastic, denim jeans? How did I not, succumb to the inevitable pressure on my diaphragm, and, pass completely out?<br />That question remains a mystery but I did ask my doctor at my visit last week the easy question, “Now that my thyroid has been exorcized and is controlled by daily meds, how do I shed the rest of this weight?” <br />“The diabetic diet is the best and easiest to follow”.<br />“Really?” I know I sounded excited.<br />He sugar-coated and I am paraphrasing. No sugar. No bread. No potatoes. No rice. <br />What?<br />What’s left? <br />“Protein,” he said. “Cut the fat off meat and eat lots of veggies.”<br />“Oh yeah”, I said. ”I love salads and, of course, there’s fruit.”<br />“Oh, watch salad,” he said. “Limit cheese and dressing. And fruit does contain sugar. Limit yourself.”<br />Feeling defeated that he had taken away my favorite parts of dieting, I asked about exercise. Yes, I am a glutton in all realms and that day, I was a glutton for punishment.<br />“Aerobic is best; and the best of the best is running.”<br />Now, I may run things through my mind, run to the store, or run out of something, but I am sitting at my desk, behind the wheel of my car, or looking in the fridge at the time. All kidding aside-I don’t run!<br />“20 minutes of running and you can eat whatever you want.” He added.<br />TWENTY MINUTES? Did he say TWENTY MINUTES? <br />I like my doctor. He’s a nice guy. I didn’t like him that day. <br />“Just give it a shot. Let’s get your BMI down 5%. Blood pressure is on target. Shoot for 3 days a week on the exercise. We’ll follow up in 6 months.”<br />Then he sent me to be jabbed in the arm by a new nurse with little blood drawing experience, charged me $125 dollars, and requested a THREE month follow-up.<br />Before I got to the safety of my car, he bombarded me with the ultimate deal breaker, in our otherwise excellent relationship, “How ya doing on smoking? We need to address that soon.”<br />So, now a week later, as I sit here holding in my breath in sweat pants that, in this 80+ degree heat, have earned their name well; sipping on a large Dr. Pepper; smoking an unheard of quanity of cigarettes, I am wondering…<br />What’s for dinner?<br /><br />Crap!<br />Until next time,<br />KimberlyKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-67849114067800522332011-05-04T22:45:00.005-05:002011-05-04T23:24:23.824-05:00I Really Just Want To Cut My HairAm I really going to talk about my hair? Of course not! I'm not THAT boring! Okay, that's a lie. I truly am that boring but I am still not going to talk about my hair. Just didn't have anything else on my mind at the moment.<br />Okay, so what am I going to talk about? Let's see. I want to back to school. You know, do some online stuff. Maybe a meteorology class. Get my BA degree. That would rock, actually. So, why don't I? I have no answer for that.<br />Does anyone out there watch American Idol? Well, you should! It was awesome tonight. This is one of the hardest years! They are all so good. <br />Going to Omaha this weekend. Have a book signing. That's right. For all you Omahaians-I will be at Jason's Deli on Dodge from 1:30-3:00 on Saturday, May 7, 2011. That's right. Come grab some lunch and while you are at it, get a book! I will be there to answer questions, pose for pictures, and sign your copy! There. My pitch for the day. I think we are going to try to give free carnations with each book. A little Mother's Day promotion! Be sure to visit http://www.justsippy.com to learn about the book if you don't already know. Oh and those who have been there, it's been re-designed so check it out. Mother's Day gift to myself! HA<br />Speaking of Mother's Day. Do you have your wish list done? I have mine. Wanna here it? Here goes:<br />A black, Craftsman self-propelled, rear bag mower/mulcher with a Honda engine and a 22" cut, a white Whirlpool dishwasher with Eco Wash, Quick wash, and self cleaning filter, a ProSport treadmill with built in web browser and 32 workout apps, and a Dr. Pepper. <br />I will let ya know how I make out. I am pretty sure I will get the Dr. Pepper!<br />Originally, I had asked God for a nice eligible bachelor with a lawn mower. Then I realized I just wanted the lawn mower. And a dishwasher. The treadmill was an after thought. Then I figured, well, crap, if I have a treadmill, I can drink a flippin' Dr. Pepper.<br />So, that is really all I have for today. I will finish up loose ends tomorrow to ready myself for Omaha. Driving over so leaving Friday afternoon. And then will head back on Sunday to celebrate Mother's Day with the kiddos. Would like to grill. Maybe work in the yard a little. Need to get the garden ready. I hate tilling the garden! Maybe I should have put that on my list...HA! No....you know what I REALLY want?<br /><br /><br />I really just want to cut my hair! (you saw that one coming, right?)<br />HA!<br />Until next time,<br />KKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-79051986717482876172011-05-02T22:02:00.004-05:002011-05-02T22:30:44.347-05:00It's Official...I Hate Doing Dishes!When going through my day for a topic here, I paced through the house around 16 times. I would say that I got quite a bit of exercise while doing so but, I stopped by the fridge 3 of those times and grabbed, in order, a yogurt, a thing of string cheese, and lastly, a slice of turkey. Oh, that's not bad you are thinking....yeah well that was after I had a frozen waffle and a leftover birthday cupcake.(no, not MY birthday cupcake) Oh, I also dipped my turkey in a puddle of ranch.<br /><br />So, now that we have determined that I am an emotional eater, we have also established I have a hard time making decisions, did not experience a birthday and have nothing to write about here. Partly all true and partly all rambling.<br /><br />My point however, is that each time I walked through my house, I looked at the dishes that so desperately need done. I "ughed" each time I passed as if some inner being thought some outer being would do them when I wasn't looking. And while it would be nice to assume I was thinking one of my children would do them, #1 I know better and #2 they weren't home. So, now there is a strong possibility here I am entering some phase of my life that could be construed as delusional. Or I could be experiencing moments of fantadreamereality. And yes, I totally just made that word up. It means moments of a woman's day when she suddenly puts herself in daydream state where fantasy is complete reality. Oh, shit....that is marriage! Damn!<br /><br />Okay, that was completely uncalled for and probably has strong potential of deletion. And could quite possibly, not make any sense at all. Truth is I did look at those dishes like the first time I had seen them. I did find their presence shocking each time. I did believe in some sub conscious area, they would be gone. But, honestly, I hate them. I hate washing them. I despise putting them away. I shiver at the thought of rinsing them, hearing them clang together, and silverware...don't even get me started on that! <br /><br />They are still there. Looming now as I am aware of their continuous presence. I can't bring back the delusion of their non-existence. I can't pretend anymore. I still hate them.<br />Maybe I will just buy paper plates from now on. Paper cups. Plastic silverware. My niece has a fetish for plastic. She won't even use stainless steel. She could be on to something. Of course, the baby would eat Styrofoam. That probably isn't nutritional, is it?<br /><br />You know, yesterday I asked God for a nice eligible bachelor who enjoyed dining out, good music and my kids. I told God a lawnmower was required. Then this morning I retracted that request and just asked for the lawn mower. Suppose it's too late to add a dishwasher to the list?<br /><br />I should probably go pray now. Thanks for letting me vent.<br />Until next time,<br />KKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4048296250947563172.post-77512728913889413912011-05-01T12:05:00.003-05:002011-05-01T12:22:30.816-05:00What happens when there just isn't anything to say...This could be my downfall. This could be why there are times I don't write here. I obviously didn't have a topic for yesterday which is why the page remained blank. I don't have one for today either, but felt bad not writing as I promised.<br /><br />Plan on getting out in the yard again today. Spent a little time in it a few days ago. The back deck needs my attention today. Plan on getting a little spot set up for the garden to go in. See? How boring is my life?<br /><br />I love working in the yard. I really do, but I am having color issues with it! I don't have any spring blooms. All my green is coming in fine but my floral color comes later in summer. Boo! I need to plant some spring stuff...blah blah blah.<br /><br />Next...<br /><br />My brother just called. He is my weekend warrior. Hangs out with me when I am bored. Shampooing the carpet...Raking the backyard. He doesn't care. He is as bored as I am most of the time. HA! He is handi-capable. As long as I have coffee he is happy.<br /><br />The kids are at a birthday party today. Doesn't happen often that the house is empty. I usually spend that alone time cleaning with nobody walking behind me to mess it up! Love it!<br /><br />Okay, well if you have never read this blog before I am sure you will never return....so sorry. This is not my normal effort. Please see prior attempts. I am gonna go with I have not had enough coffee....<br /><br />Maybe I will write before bed later when something meaningful has happened. Or at least when I have had a functional amount of caffeine. <br /><br />My book at least isn't this horrible. Even I can say that! Have you checked it out yet? Website remember is http://www.justsippy.com<br />There is big news on the horizon! Can't wait to share that here! Okay...gotta go get the brother so I can start cleaning the deck. Maybe we will grill something! He will love that!<br /><br />Until next time,<br />KKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14225762475614877125noreply@blogger.com0