Everyone...

Thanks so much for your sweet words, wonderful wishes and mighty prayers!! I love my job! I like the people, I like what I do and I'm thrilled with working! As soon as I can, I'll post about it.

Thanks to all!

We all gave thanks

I hope y'all had a great Thanksgiving. Ours was blessed, so blessed. We were all so happy because, one: I have a real job (YAY!!) and two: our family was together again. You know what it's like to be separated from your family for whatever period of time and then your family is together again. Every minute is precious. Casey got home Wednesday afternoon and I don't think I stopped smiling until he left this evening. As I stood out in front of the house in the cold rain watching him drive down the street, away from us and back to his life at college, I prayed for his safe trip home and gave God thanks for the time we'd had with him this holiday.

Watching he and Charlie this past few days brought back so many memories of two little blonde headed boys playing, laughing, arguing and playing pranks on their mom.

When Casey came home on Wednesday, I was on my way to my second interview for my new job. When I got home, Casey, Charlie and I went shopping for Thanksgiving dinner makings. My sweet friend, Katy, had sent us a gift card to buy groceries with and I can't tell you what a difference it made for us. Thank you Katy. After we got home, Casey offered to treat Charlie to a movie and they went to see Hitman. I love how Casey has stepped in to be a positive male role model in Charlie's life. Casey has told me he wants to be there for Charlie, and every time he comes home he makes it a priority to spend one on one time with Charlie. I've got the best kids. I promise you I never take them for granted, I know how blessed I am.

I wasn't the only one glad to see my boys together again.










Thanksgiving was wonderful. The entire day was perfect. The boys helped me out a lot over Thanksgiving because of my knee. They helped clean house as we had company over, and they helped me cook dinner. Then they fell asleep right after dinner, one on each couch, sound asleep with their bellies full and all right in our world.
















I love my family.

Friday Charlie spent time with his dad and Casey went to play ultimate frisbee with some friends. I rested. Bliss.

Saturday we ventured out in the cold rain to go to the movies. We saw No Country For Old Men. Tommy Lee Jones, gotta love him. The movie...it was the Coen brothers...so it's a bit off. The boys and I liked it very much, but much of the audience booed when it ended. Yeah, well...people differ. Should have known going in that it was one of the Coen brother's films...so, what was the surpirse? Saturday afternoon the boys made a gingerbread house. Yup, seriously. Charlie wanted to do it, and Casey said if Charlie wanted to do it, he'd help him.



































That night Casey volunteered at church and went out with friends afterwards. It was odd not knowing where he was after midnight and I couldn't quite fall asleep. C'mon, it was cold and rainy outside...a mom worries, lol. He got home around 1:30 in the morning and told me he'd gone to a friend's house with a group and they watched movies. I slept sound the rest of the night.

This morning we went to Fellowship Church. If we'd gone to Potter's House, by the time we got home, Casey would be leaving, so I was selfish and opted for the church that got me the most time with him. Every time I stand between my boys in praise at church, I cry like a baby. I'm so grateful to have them, so thankful for them, my heart simply can't hold all the joy and I cry. Happy tears.

Honestly, there has been a lot of happy tears in my home lately. I have found a job after looking for over a year...way over a year. If I hadn't been working at the clothing shop, I'd not met my friend, Ronda, who works at the Dr's office. If I hadn't met Ronda, she'd not taken my resume in to where she works and I'd not found this great job. Thank you, Ronda.

We may not see the whole picture when we're trying to figure out where the pieces go, but God does. After all my many years, I've learned one thing; TRUST GOD.

So Much To Be Thankful For

I got a job!

I've been saying, singing and laughing these words since yesterday afternoon. I got a job! With the recommendation of a friend from the clothing shop I work at (she works part time evenings) I had an interview yesterday morning with her day job, a women's clinic that houses five doctors, all Ob/Gyns. I got a desk job taking and scheduling doctor's appointments. From what I've heard from my friend, it's a great place to work, very friendly. It's been around for over 30 years, the doctor that opened the doors is still the managing doctor and many of it's employees have been there for over 10 and as many as 25 years. That says a lot. The pay is decently more than $7.25 an hour (thank you Jesus), the hours are 8:30 ~ 5 five days a week (thank you Jesus) and it has great insurance and 401k (thank you Jesus!!).

I got a job!

Last Friday I took a bad turn and hurt my knee at work. They were short handed at the shop (very typical) so I agreed to stay an extra 4 hours giving me 11 hours, 3 1/2 on my bad knee. It was really painful. I'd turned around, but my right knee and foot didn't. That's all I know. The next day I went in, though it was swollen and very painful, because, again, I just couldn't leave them short handed. However, when we ended up with 5 employee's on the floor I asked a couple of times to go home and was told no. Finally I told them I was in too much pain and would work the remainder of the shift behind the register where I didn't have to walk much. The next two days I lived and slept with my knee in ice. The swelling has gone down some, but it's still painful. Nothing like it was, but it catches when I walk and pain shoots from my knee to my hip and my ankle. The girl that got me the interview at her office called me and told me I should file for worker's comp. I don't think I've ever called in sick at a job till this week and know little about worker's comp. I asked my manager, my co-manager and the assistant manager...no help. They couldn't find the forms, didn't know what the procedure was...so finally on Tuesday (after 4 days) I called the worker's comp department of the company that owns where I work. Very, very, very helpful and extremely kind. They told me exactly what to do and not to worry about anything. I love good people.
The thing is, I'm so sorry for leaving the shop short handed. I hate it. I know my accident is putting everyone else out, I'm a burden and I absolutely hate that. I'm so very sorry. But, the more I try to put weight on my knee, the worse it is, so I can't work on it. My manager told me to take 4 ibuprofen and come in on crutches. She was probably right, and I desperately need the money, but if I'm feeling in my gut that I shouldn't (and can't) do it, I listen to my gut.

Tuesday the doctors office called and asked me to come in Wednesday for an interview. I've had so many interviews, I don't tend to get excited. I finally got in to see a doctor and they took x-rays. Everything looked good, no broken bones, etc. They told me to stay off of it completely for a week or so and when the inflammation had gone done more they would do an MRI on the 28th unless it was healing on it's own. They said they thought I'd torn a ligament. So, with the help of pain pills, I had a good interview. Loved the people there. About an hour later they called me and asked if I could come back in immediately, that the managing doctor was there and wanted to meet me.

I loved this guy. Reminded me of Ed Asner. A very 'in your face' kind of honesty; he was me in about 15 years in a man's body. He asked me direct, to the point and on the spot sort of questions. I loved it. My kind of guy. After about 20 minutes of this, he asked me if I had any questions for him, and I said 'yes, are you going to offer me the job?' That, he said, clinched it for him. I got the job. I start Monday.

I got a job!

I didn't call the shop, it was late afternoon and I didn't want to ruin my manager's Thanksgiving. But I've got to call them in the morning. I'm not looking forward to it. I can work a few nights a week for them...my friend does it. It's just going to have to wait till my knee heals because I don't want to do any further damage to it. She was begging me yesterday to work Saturday, even though I was told to stay off of it. I'm going to try if at all possible, but telling her that she's down another employee (we've lost a few this past two months) is going to break my heart.

I've tried to call, email and, in one form or another, let everyone know who has prayed for me that I am THANKFUL. It's been so great around here this past day. Casey came home yesterday afternoon after I found out I got the job. We were talking about how blessed we are, how we have so many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving! He was telling me how all he could think of this week as he was registering for classes for next semester was how blessed he is, how everything is covered when all his friends are writing checks with their or their parent's money. All I can think of while he's telling me this is how blessed I am to have a child who recognizes, and acknowledges, how blessed he is.

I hope each and every one of you has the most wonderful Thanksgiving. I am so very thankful for all of you. Thank you for lifting me, and my family, up. Prayer is an awesome thing. Thank you.

I got a job!

A Thanksgiving To Remember

The boys and I were remembering a thanksgiving we had with my dad a few years ago. Well, he passed away nearly 5 years ago, so it's been awhile, but it's one that we all remember vividly.

We had taken my dad out for Thanksgiving one year while visiting him in Indiana. He was in assisted living at the time. We took him to Cracker Barrel, and for Thanksgiving they had tables connected to other tables in an old fashioned family style dining. It was like sitting at extremely long picnic tables. This put my dad sitting in the midst of strangers, and at this time in his life, that wasn't good for anyone. Especially the strangers.

My dad had become extremely hard of hearing, which meant that not only did you have to yell to talk to him, but he yelled whenever he talked...and you just never knew what my dad would say. Actually, you were always a little afraid of what he might say. Something typical would be 'look at that man, my God, he's a big one'. That sort of thing, and it was never out of earshot of whom he was talking about. His eating habits were enough to make you lose your appetite. Unfortunately, this wasn't something that happened with old age, it was pretty much a constant for as long as I can remember. Hearing my mom say 'Forrest, wipe your mouth' was also a constant for as long as I can remember. After my mom died, for some reason, my dad took up chewing. Nastiest habit on the face of the earth, (okay, I can think of a few that may actually be nastier, but I don't let my mind go there). Sad thing is, he wasn't able to keep his 'chew' in his mouth either, so it was often hanging out of his mouth or off of his lip. So...imagine the blessing we were for the strangers who were seated around us this Thanksgiving.

However, this particular Thanksgiving my dad managed to pull a new surprise on all of us. Apparently he got something he was eating stuck in his teeth. This happens to everyone now and then, but my dad put a new spin on it. He took his teeth out at the table. In the middle of complete strangers, in the middle of a meal while everyone was still eating, he took his teeth out of his mouth, worked whatever it was that had lodged itself in his 'falsies' free, washed them off in his glass of water and then put them back into his mouth. Yes, yes he did. Everyone around us, including us, sat and stared at him as he did this while completely oblivious to anyone else at the table. One of the boys, can't remember which one, gasped "POP", but my dad, without a clue of having done anything wrong, just went back to his meal.

I suppose everyone has their little Thanksgiving stories to remember. Right?

Another Cold Front

...and Danny likes to stay covered up.

Are you a 'people' person?

I have a difficult time relaxing my guard. I tend to keep a fence around my security area...my comfort zone, so to speak. I'm better than I use to be. There are a few people I've let in to my life that I've learned to trust completely, and fewer still that have never let me down. But they do exist and, trust me, they are stubborn and delusional people, for they see something in me that they believe is worth sticking around for. And, though I love them and am so thankful for them, I simply don't get it.

People I work with, who have known me only a few months, think I'm joking when I say I'm shy. When inside my comfort zone I'm friendly, one might even say personable. My sarcasm is often a self defense mechanism, and yet people take it as humor. Sorry, I'm not that funny. Because of this, I'm often put into the 'spot light' because people think I'm a people person. I'm not. What this does is trigger my anxiety. What people don't see are my frequent trips to the bathroom and my spending a lot of nights not sleeping.

It's not that I think I'm going to self destruct, I'm strong and determined. But, I'm shy. I'd make a great 'people person', but I'm just not one. I wish people could understand, comprehend, that when I say this, I'm not kidding. I'm not trying to be funny. I'm not being sarcastic. The thing is, I like who I am. I'm happy with who I am. I'm genuine, and that's not a common thing among people anymore. If I tell you something, it's true. If I say I love you, I do. If I say I don't care for the person you are, I don't.

Perhaps what I need is tact, because if you ask anyone who knows me, I tend to say what is on my mind. Fortunately, I'm not a mean person, so it's not usually hurtful...unless the truth is hurtful. Even when I say something hurtful, it's said in love; never to be cruel. And yes, I've been known to keep my mouth shut...but you can usually tell that it means you seriously don't want to know what I'm thinking.

I see most of my blog buddies as "people" people. Sometimes you never know, huh?

Play On

I love listening to Charlie play his music when he doesn't realize I'm listening. Keeps the wolves at bay and a smile on my face.

I Need Rest

We all have blessings in our life. Usually, they're what I focus on. Sometimes they're hard to find through a mess that may be crowding us on every side, but they're there. For me, they're my kids. No surprise. I am so blessed to have two such great guys that make me laugh, that care about me and that treat me with such respect. I love and adore them. Blessings? Yup, I'm blessed. I'm also blessed with amazing friends that love me in spite of knowing me. Family? I've recently been reunited with my sister and I'm so happy to have her to talk to, to laugh and to cry with. So yeah, I've got family, I've got friends and I've got my boys who are both. Count me blessed.

But, sometimes life can overwhelm us. I don't think that it means we're denying our blessings, just that we are human....not super human. Normally I'm positive regardless of what life throws at me. I know I'll get through it. I've gotten through hard times before and I'll continue to get through hard times when I'm presented with them. Never count me down, and never count me out. It'll never happen. Yet, right now, I'm tired. I'm so tired. My spirit is tired, my heart is tired and with all that I am, I just need for it to be okay to be tired. I don't have time to rest, no get away weekends, no drowning my sorrows in a few dozen margaritas, I simply don't have the time to escape. But right now, I'm just tired and I need for that to be okay.

Fortunately I can press on when I'm tired...and friends, I'm pressin' on. And I'm praying. I'm not praying that quiet little bow my head and not be heard or noticed type of prayer. No, I'm praying that on my knees, tears flowing, hands lifted and heart calling out with all that's in me kind of prayer. I need God's strength, I need His joy and I need His help. Right now, more than ever, I NEED Him. I'm holding on to Him tighter than I've ever held on before. I'm going to cling to the hem of His garment (c'mon, if you know what I'm talking about, let me know it) and I'm not letting go.

So I'm just going to trust God to do His thing (He conquered death, after all, how hard can my mess be for Him?) and I'm not going to concern myself with any of life's heaviness tonight, because frankly, I'm just too tired.

I Can't Make This Stuff Up

During my first week of working at the shop, I was working in the shoe department and heard a man asking me if we carried this cute little pump (a woman's shoe with a short heel) with a large bow in a size 11. I told him that everything we had was out and as I started to continue with what I was doing, I noticed the pumps he was wearing, a similar pump, also with a large bow. Good chance in a size 11.

Today he came back in while I was working. He was dressed in black dress Capri's (women's slacks where the length ends somewhere between the knee and mid calf), a silk lavender blouse and black 3 inch heeled sandals. He had his toe and finger nails painted a gorgeous lavender that matched his blouse, and he carried a black purse under one arm. He was returning a watch that he said didn't keep the correct time and wanted to exchange it, but we didn't have another one like it, so he decided to just exchange it in a purchase of other pieces. He shopped for a while, carefully examining every thing he picked up. After awhile, he asked to try on a couple of skirts, a pair of slacks and two blouses. My manager made sure there weren't any women in the dressing room and opened a door for him. She and I were both near the dressing room, behind the counter when he came out in a pair of black striped slacks and asked me "Do you think they fit me like they should here" with his hand targeting his crotch area as if he were Vanna White.

Okay, I'm rarely at a loss for words, and I wasn't at a loss for them at this time either. Everything in me wanted to say 'no, they weren't meant to fit a man's penis'...but I just looked at him for a few seconds as he kept waving his hand in front of his crotch. Then, he pulls up his shirt to reveal his very large pot belly hanging over the waist band (hip band on him) and said "I'm just not sure they fit right here", again waving his hand to keep my attention where I really didn't want to look. I honestly thought for a minute, there has to be a camera around here somewhere. I told the man to turn around and he did. So obedient, this one. Anyway, I told him the only truth I could give him. I said "They make your butt look great."
There's a truth to be told about any outfit on someone: that color flatters your skin tone, that's a great color for your hair (or eyes), those slacks make your legs look longer (c'mon petites, y'all know what I mean)...there is always something, and the truth was, his butt did look pretty good in those slacks. Would have even looked better from a distance, but he stayed put. Each of our dressing rooms have at least one mirror and a triple mirror outside of the 'stalls'. Why did he need me to tell him whether the material draped nicely over his penis or not?
Apparently there is a shop rule about this type of thing. One of the store's associates has to wait inside of the dressing room area if we have a man trying on clothes, so that other women (which a couple of women opted to wait) may try on clothes without being afraid they'd walk out to see a semi-dressed...guy.

It ended up being a rather large sale, with his explaining how he thought men would love wearing this fabulous material next to their skin if they'd just give it a try, how men are missing out simply because they're afraid of what people would think of them. I didn't have to, but I did tell him that his asking me if I thought the slacks fitted him in the crotch was putting me in a rather awkward position, because I hadn't known how to answer him. I told him that it would be impossible for them to fit him the way they were intended because they weren't intended to fit around a penis. He looked at me with a little smile and said that what he'd meant was, did they pucker at the pockets, because sometimes slacks will do that if they don't fit right. I said "Darlin', it wasn't your pockets you were directing my attention to". That left him speechless while he blushed and when my manager started laughing, so did we. He then said he just loves shopping at our store and he'll be back.

Great.

Yeah, I know...I look awful

Charlie and I, both, woke up sick yesterday. I woke up feeling dizzy with my neck stiff, aching all over, with some drainage going on making my throat sore and some coughing. I went to wake Charlie up and I could hear his deep, gravely cough from downstairs. I didn't have to ask, I knew. The kid felt awful. Anyone with that sort of cough has a throat that feels like sandpaper, and his did. He felt awful and I felt so sorry for my baby. *Oh hush, I know the kid is 16 but when he is 50, he's still gonna be my baby and that's just the way it is.*

I gave him some DayQuil, called into school and let them know they'd be minus one Charlie today, made him as comfortable as I could and I went to work.

They sent me home from work a couple of hours early because I looked "so sick "and between my cough and leaning on things to keep from falling down , I was scaring the customers. Pansies. I could have made it another hour or so. :) I did try not to cough in the direction of people, especially children and for some reason there were a lot of little kids in the shop yesterday. I did get rather tired of complete strangers telling me that I looked "awful". I had spent a good three minutes that morning putting on makeup, thank you very much.

After work I took Charlie and I to a local clinic. What's worse than being home sick is waiting and waiting and waiting to see a doctor when your sick. Took us an hour and eleven minutes of waiting, but I suppose when you don't have an appointment, that can happen. Charlie has a bacterial infection, his strep test showed negative and she put him on the z pack. I have a viral infection (?), am extremely dehydrated (thus the dizziness and feeling like I was going to pass out) and she put me on the z pack. Yeah, I dunno.

We trekked on to get our prescriptions filled and there was a 45 minute wait. Yay, more waiting. All the pharmacy chairs were filled, so we went to Panda Express to eat. I love their hot and sour soup. It's their only vegan dish. You'd think the steamed veggies would also be a vegan dish, but they told me a few months ago that it's not because they steam it with chicken broth. Yeah, I dunno. Anyway, the hot and sour soup felt so good on my throat and tasted even better. I love this soup. Charlie got a few pieces of orange chicken down. Back to the pharmacy and then home to crash.

Later last night I discovered this:

















I'm fixin' (yeah, it's Texan for 'getting ready') to get dressed for work this morning. I'm feeling better, have had enough fluids to float me for awhile (I know...ewwww, sorry) and she gave us some great stuff for our coughs so that will help others feel safer around me, I'm sure. I haven't seen a mirror yet today, but with any luck, I'll only need two minutes of makeup this morning.

I WANT A PARTY!

Today I stood alone in front of a judge and felt the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders as he slammed his gavel down and declared 'divorce granted'. I am divorced.

It has taken 15 months since Mark walked out to get here. I didn't drag my feet because within hours of Charlie telling me his dad had 'left' (while I was out of the house for a few minutes running an errand), I had the locks changed and everything that had ever belonged to Mark in bags in the garage. I had an attorney within a week (obviously not a good one because it has taken 15 months to get here, but I'll share that story soon) and filed for divorce as quickly as possible. I angered Mark's family for acting so quickly, even my attorney asked if I was sure I didn't want to wait to see if Mark was simply going through a mid life crisis. My gut feeling was that I'd never be able to trust him again. I'd be afraid to even run to the store, afraid he'd be gone when I got back. So no, there was never any doubt from the moment Charlie told me through his tears that his dad had left us, that I wanted to move on alone...single. Took me 15 months to get here, but I'm here. And I'm happy. I'm sooo happy. It continues to be hard financially, but emotionally and spiritually, I'm better than ever.

I'm divorced.

I want a party.

:)