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Aly, Zak, family, faith, musings, photos, scrap, travel, rants

Tuesday, June 04, 2019

Hello

Wednesday, March 06, 2019

Goodbye Kirby Bing

Kirby Bing was a good dog.
Rescued from the mean streets of Henderson, he was not a cute little puppy at Petsmart that day, but Aly and I saw a frightened dog that needed a family to rescue him. And even though Aly picked him out, he was Daddy's boy.
He was the king of the sammamammers, chasing them around the patio, and occasionally catching a tail. He was an escape artist and a runner - open gate, open door, he was out! He didn't mind the cats and put up with his baby brother Charlie's constant herding.
Now he's crossed the rainbow bridge, reuniting with Cricket and Snowy, with Scrappy and Nana. Be free, Kirby. Free of the sickness that was breaking you down every day. Free of the insulin shots you bore without flinching. Enjoy treats again! Run all over! Know that we will love and miss you always. Rest in peace, my friend.
You were a good boy.

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Tuesday, June 05, 2018

Getting Back to Writing

It has been a long time since I blogged, or wrote much of anything, and it is time for that to change.  I've relayed stories over Facebook for some time, so I'll be copying them here, with the original release dates over the next few days. If you 'subscribe' to this blog, get ready for a bunch of notifications.
But I am hilarious, so you really shouldn't mind.

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Thursday, May 24, 2018

It's That Time of Year

My mammogram was scheduled today and I was so excited about it, I drove to Deaconess downtown, where they haven’t done mammograms for 18 mo (says the nice elderly gentleman trying not to read my “no pants are the best pants” shirt). 

Speeding along, I get to the Newburgh hospital and look further down on the google result for Evansville breast center - 520 Mary St Evansville. 

Now some words came out of my mouth that I’m not going to type here, but before I tore off to downtown Evansville, I checked the actual appointment in MyChart and I *am* supposed to be in Newburgh. Whew. 

I find a place to park but the car won’t let me leave. Usually this means you are walking away with your keys still in the car. But no. The keys are in my purse, outside the car. Open the door. Close the door. BEEEEP. Oh. I forgot to turn the car off. Stupid fancy push button. 

Anyway I make it in and immediately hear a newborn. Like a right *now* being born baby and the chimes sound and now I’m in the breast center reception area ugly crying. 

Happy Thursday, y’all, and be sure to get yer bewbies smashed on a regular basis. It is an adventure.

Edit to add: post-smashing I can say that it hurts like a 7 on the pain scale, especially when they do it for a second time at a 45° angle. 3 hours later I still have red marks. Seems Susan G Komen could figure out something that didn’t hurt so much along with all that “awareness “ they’re spreading.

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Friday, May 11, 2018

Four Years Ago

Today, I had dinner with my daughter in these very few weeks between her last final as a college sophomore and her summer job in New York City.

Today, my granddaughter Cassie had corrective surgery on her eyes that will help her to see.

Today I got a random blurry snapshot of Zeke from Zak, who finally got his phone fixed and finally texted his mother 😉. 

Today, we gave our dog Kirby the first insulin shot for the rest of his life. 

Four years ago today, I lost my mom, on Mother’s Day. If she were here, she’d have gone to dinner with us. She’d have been hanging outside Cassie’s room. She’d have been visiting Zeke. She’d probably even learn how to give a dog an insulin shot. But she wasn’t here. She didn’t do any of those things. 

Cancer sucks. It doesn’t matter how hard you fight, you make it or you don’t. Sometimes the fight works. Sometimes it gives you false hope. 

How have we raised millions of dollars for awareness with no cure?  I’m pretty sure everyone is aware at this point.  Now what? 

How do we save the next mom, nana, great grandmother, fur mom, sister, daughter, aunt or niece from missing today?

I don’t think we can. But you can make sure you don’t miss YOUR today. Do those little things and cherish every moment.

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Thursday, April 12, 2018

If Things Were Different

If things were different, we'd be celebrating your 21st birthday tonight. Today, you celebrate in Heaven.
If things were different, we wouldn't have known the heart-wrenching pain of losing a child. Today, we have heartfelt compassion for those who have suffered that loss.
If things were different, Zak would have had a best friend no matter where we moved, and we would have had two boys, double trouble, growing up together. Baby Zeke would have an Uncle Zeke to hold him. 
But if things were different, we might not have the amazing, intelligent, and inspiring Aly. Nana wouldn't have had a grandchild already waiting for her at the pearly gates when she tried so hard to stay here for the others. And we wouldn't appreciate the fragile state of life here on earth.
So, happy birthday Isaiah. Thank you for the two weeks we had, and here's to our forever together.

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Monday, December 19, 2016

Happy Anniversary

Twenty-four years ago today, I married my best friend. 
No words, no gift, no card can express the love and the loss, the happiness and the tears, the better and the worse, the sickness and the health.
Here's to the dad who cleans, shops, cooks, and raised our children all while moving three times for my job and driving me to the airport at 4:30am. Now he's still actively Dadding three dogs, three cats, our not-too-long-distance daughter, our grown-but-home son, and our granddaughter.
Here's to the husband who never comes home without calling to see if I need something (Saturday I NEEDED chocolate cake), who surprises me with puzzle books and all the Bumbles he can find, who takes me on driving "adventures" to get me out of the house on the weekends, who goes on beach vacations even though he's bored and hates sand, who understands migraines, chiari malformations, chronic daily headaches, anxiety, bipolar disorder and escalatoraphobia, and who waits in the car during my numerous "Pull over! I gotta go to the bathroom!" stops.
Here's to the man who lives his dreams. He's been in the press box during an NFL game, wrote articles for ESPN, wrote two books (available on Amazon, with two more soon to be published), received a Doctorate in Biblical Preaching (that's Dr and Mrs Edwards on the Christmas cards, people), pastored numerous churches and counseled hundreds of people, created a local community theater group, wrote and produced numerous plays (raising money for charity and giving regular people a chance to participate in the theatre), and now is the PA Announcer for the Evansville Jr Bolts hockey team.
There's so much more. He can't pass a fireman's boot or bell ringer without giving up his change. He tips the servers at Sonic. He will hold a door open for thirty-seven people. He always takes a cart from the parking lot into the store. He lets the lady with five things in front of him in line when he has ten.
And you probably didn't know half of this because everything he does for everyone else, he does because he wants to. He needs to. Not for the accolades. Not for the recognition. Just because that's who he is.
And that is why I can't think of the words that explain how I feel about him. That little jump in my heart when he kisses me at the airport or when he yells "hooooooney" when he gets back from the store.
I love him.
Just because of who he is.


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