Sunday, May 22, 2011

Happy Anniversary Baby....

Today is our 12th wedding anniversary!






Where has the time gone?






Looking back over the past 12 years, I can safely say that we have weathered many a storm, and much like the one last month, have come out the other side more the wiser, but virtually unscathed.






I think that I'll keep him.






Happy Anniversary Baby!






Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Getting Published! Well...Sort of...

Move over Helen Gurley Brown...I am burning up the printed word this month, as I am featured in THREE magazines, almost simultaniously!!




I was really excited to find out that a comment I made about enjoying an inexpensive girl's night out, was published in the May issue of All You magazine (pictured above, page 194 inside the back cover).


Many of you know that I am no stranger to this magazine. I am a member of the "reader's panel" that is frequently consulted for content imput. My first response resulted in having had a family recipe published in the May 2009 edition. It was for our easy "pasta bake" recipe, that was so easy, a young Kit-Kat frequently made it by herself. When I was contacted that it would be published, I was asked if I had a headshot to go along with it. As a pageant girl, it's always handy to have those laying around. I had responded "Of course!" As you can see, it came in handy again.



A few days after it's release, a friend let me know that a comment made on the Facebook page for Pageantry magazine was published in the Summer edition, in a column called "Socially Speaking" (I'm on page 92). Yep, same headshot.



I am currently awaiting the release of an article in the June edition of MORE magazine, where the Beauties of America pageant I was in last summer will be featured. I am told from someone close to the source, that I am in the article quite a bit.


Update to follow!

~En-Joy!

Monday, May 9, 2011

Confession Time:Surviving a Tornado

I can add a new term to the list of descriptions that define my life so far:

Tornado Survivor.

Yep, we are survivors of the deadly Alabama tornadoes of April 27, 2011. We are alive and well (for the most part) and I am not certain who sustained more damage, my house or my husband.

But I will get to that in a minute.

It was a normal, everyday work day. I had gotten up at 4:00 a.m., as per my usual routine. In order to bathe three full grown people and still have hot water for all, I must bathe at 4:00 a.m, Tigger (who is as large as his dad) bathes at 5:00 a.m. and Darling Hubby bathes at 6:00 a.m.

Storms of any kind make me extremely nervous, and have done so all my life. A close call with storm when I was little, has made me panic whenever the sky clouds over and the winds pick up.

In the 12 years that we have lived in our home, whenever a storm blew in, my first thoughts were of the three oak trees in our back yard. They were all relatively young, tall and spindly compared to the older ones on our street, but were still large enough to cause a problem if the right wind came along. Over the years I had watched in dread as they whipped back and forth, but always emerged on the other side of the storm standing as strong as ever.

Usually, I take my shower and lay back down until 6:00 a.m., but not this morning. The howling wind was enough to make me stop and watch the local morning news show, which was already on what they like to call "wall to wall" storm coverage. A line of fast moving storms were blowing in from Mississippi at a rate of 70 miles per hour. There were indications of rotation as well. I was glued to the t.v. set from about 4:30 until 5:45, when it was announced that the fast moving storm would reach the Leeds/Moody area in roughly 15 minutes.

I went out to the car and unlocked the doors. so that when I was ready to leave for work, I wouldn't get drowned trying to get into the car. It was not raining yet, but the wind was blowing so hard that it blew my house-dress up over the back of my head. Thankfully no one was out yet, so I didn't fully embarass myself or any of my neighbors.

Having made certain that Tigger had been out of the shower long enough for the hot water to recover, I made Darling Hubby get up and get into the shower. A few moments later, the power went out. "Grrreeeeeaaaatttt" I hear him groan from the bathroom.

Suddenly, there was a loud roaring sound. It was much like when rain starts falling hard and fast. I wanted to see how much it was raining.

I love the smell of new rain, right when it starts raining. There is something dirty and gritty about it, yet fresh at the same time. We once went to one of those "4D experience" movies where you got to smell and feel what you were watching. It was about "tall tales" and this particular story was about it raining frogs. The storm that was to bring the frogs started blowing and the creators had gotten that rain smell just right. I could have sat there all day, just smelling that smell. Whenever we have rain, I stand on the porch, breathing in that smell until I am either drenched or someone comes and gets me.

 
I went to open the door, to see how much it was raining. But I couldn't get the door open. It was like it was stuck. I tried pulling with both hands. The door only opened a crack. I looked through the crack, but I couldn't see the porch rail that was just a few feet from the door. Then my ears popped. My immediate thought was,"That's not good" and I let go of the door. When it slammed shut, I locked it.

Tigger came out of his room and said "Mom, you'd better come here." I tripped over Zipper, who was under my feet. JB had slinked off to the garage to hide around five. I picked Zipper up, which didn't make him happy, and met Tigger in the hall. Kit-Kat soon joined us. I was about to open the door to the bathroom when there was a loud bang on the roof.

"What the hell was that?!" Darling Hubby yells from the bathroom. Soon, he is standing in the hall with us, sopping wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

The headline "Wet Naked Man Found Dead In Hallway With Family" flashes through my mind.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was quiet again.


From the kitchen window, we could see the tree. Limbs were everywhere, covering the window, blotting out the light. It was hard to determine how big it was from inside. Darling Hubby, Kit-Kat, and I, who were not yet dressed, each went to get dressed and Tigger put on his shoes.

As we cautiously peered out our front door, it was obvious something big had happened. We stood on the porch, staring in disbelief at the debris that littered our lawn, driveway and the street in front of us. My next door neighbor, also in her robe, called out to us from her porch. She didn't even have a stray leaf in her yard. It was surreal.


We walked out into the yard and only then did we see the trees on the house and the fences. My biggest fear had finally come to pass.
Down the street, we could see the oak, on the downed power line and blocking the street. We checked on my other next door neighbor. She was alone. Her husband had been out of town. But we were all okay.

Within the hour, the sky was clear blue and the sun shone brightly. Like nothing had happened.

 
We couldn't get in the back yard. Trees had fallen across both ends of the fence and both side of the house. Large portions were in the front yard and street. Cars sped down our street, heading for highway 411, only to be stopped by the oak in the road. They would throw up their hands, as if the roadblock were our fault, then begrudingly back up into our driveway and go back the way they came. One woman in a silver SUV backed over our mailbox, all while I yelled for her to stop. She asked my neighbors, then standing in the street, what the noise had been. Both had answered that she had backed over our mailbox. She said "oh" put the SUV in drive, and drove away without so much as a "sorry." (I hope it boogered up her SUV...no really I do)

It took over an hour for the shock to subside and for us to determine what we needed to do. We weren't certain who to call. We had been told a few years earlier that our insurance agent had retired. The home owners had been added into the mortgage, so we never had a reason to see him. Our neighbor, who used the same company, had given us the catastrophy number. I called and left a message. We walked up and down the street, surveying damage and checking on other neighbors. The sirens of emergency vehicles wailed in the distance, along with the alarm at Tractor Supply at the end of our street.

By the time someone called us back, we had already heard of the next storm system that would be coming into Alabama later that afternoon. The catastrophy agent told us they would not get to us anytime soon, to clear what we could clear safely, and make temporary repairs to avoid further damage from the next storm systems. Darling Hubby went on the roof to start clearing the limbs and survey the damage. I went into town for tarps.

Leeds was also without power, so I drove into Birmingham to buy tarps and supplies. My mother met Kit-Kat and I at Golden Rule to buy us lunch. It was clouding over and 411 was a parking lot when I made it back to Moody. I called ahead to tell Darling Hubby that I was stuck in traffic, but on my way, when a stranger answered his phone.

While clearing the tree that had hit the roof, the last limb snatched him off the roof. He fell ten feet on to the concrete patio and brick steps below. The ambulance passed me as I sat in traffic. I could not get to him fast enough. When I reached him, he looked dead. The panic welled up in me and I threw up in the yard. Thankfully, God had His hand on him and he escaped with a few fractured, but not broken, vertebrae that would heal on their own. I have never been more grateful in all my life.

As we sat at UAB for the rest of the night, we learned the lady in the room next to us had pretty much the same accident D/H had. She fell from the roof while helping patch a hole. She was not so lucky. They were having the "we will see if she is still paralyzed when the swelling subsides" talk in the hall.  I laid my head on D/H, who was angry, still imobilized flat on his back with a c-collar,  and cried. That easily could have been him.

And that is where we were when the more severe storm came in. I remember James Spann working to get the Tuscaloosa tower camera on-line and when it came up, the huge tornado left him speechless. It was like a  scene from a horror movie.  Soon the ER was filled with survivors of that storm, diverted from hospitals in Tuscaloosa that were already at capacity. One woman, bleeding and scratched, wandered around in a disposable scrub suit. the force of the storm ripping her clothes from her body. It was all so horrific.

Here are photos of the house and yard, taken shortly after the storm was over. I wish I had taken one of my next door neighbor's yard. There wasn't even a stray leaf over there. It was almost like there was a bubble over her house.

This is the bedroom end of the house. Those windows are Tigger and Kit-Kat's rooms.




You can sorta see what I mean about my neighbor's yard in this one.



Here is the back yard.

And the side yard.









I've heard of this before, but never really seen it. This stick is imbedded in the wall of the house.







We aren't really certain where this tree came from. But the oak tree caught it and kept it from going through the house and that's all that matters.


This is the view from inside the kitchen



Even Zipper had to check things out.



The street where we live didn't fare much better. We were blocked by a fallen oak tree that brought down the power lines.









Here is where Darling Hubby landed on our concrete patio. His head and sholders were on the steps (that is the navy blue shirt they cut from his body there in the lower right hand side of the photo) and he lay sprawled across the patio with a foot on either side of the dryer.




Ironically, that eyesore dryer actually saved my kitchen. The weight of the limb was resting on it, and that stopped it from going all the way through the roof, ceiling and kitchen window.

I know that this is pretty small beans compared to those who lost everything, including their loved ones, but it was traumatic for us just the same.

A life-long friend, an only child, had to bury both of her parents. They were swept away running for their storm shelter. Their bodies found a mile away from their home. As I stood in line to speak to her, she just kept saying over and over again, "they always knew they would die together."

It made me think of how things could have been much different for us.
I cherish my family.
And thank God everyday for letting me keep them

~~

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Mother's Day


God gave me the task of nurturing and protecting the three most special people in the world.



My children.


I am blessed beyond measure.


~En-JOY

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Easter!

Easter beings in 5 hours.

I am roughly 12 hours from an ice cream binge. Why? Ice Cream was my Lenten sacrifice.

Lent is a forty-day season of preparation for the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday. It begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter.

I found this website that explains Lent this way:

"Today, Lent is marked by a time of prayer and preparation to celebrate Easter. Since Sundays celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, the six Sundays that occur during Lent are not counted as part of the 40 days of Lent, and are referred to as the Sundays in Lent. The number 40 is connected with many biblical events, but especially with the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness preparing for His ministry by facing the temptations that could lead him to abandon his mission and calling. Christians today use this period of time for introspection, self examination, and repentance. This season of the year is equal only to the Season of Advent in importance in the Christian year, and is part of the second major grouping of Christian festivals and sacred time that includes Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost."

I've given up things for Lent before, gum, soda, chocolate, but none has really gotten to me like Ice Cream. Forty days is a really, long time.

I was in the habit of having a small bowl of ice cream every evening, kind of a reward for the crappy days I usually have at work. I had come to look forward to that little bowl of ice cream. That is why it was the perfect sacrifice.

I had run out of ice cream over the weekend before Ash Wednesday. On Fat Tuesday, I had every intention of pigging out on a pint of Hagen Daas, but completely forgot, and the next thing I know, Lent had begun.

That didn't stop me from going to the freezer every evening around 8:30ish to stare into the open space my ice cream had previously occupied. I complained to all my friends about how hard it was. Without thinking I turned to my best friend and actually said "I don't know how Jesus did it!"

I had several close calls, mostly involving milk shakes.I know that drive thru operators have thought I was crazy these past few weeks.

I was starting to be okay with my sacrifice when the unthinkable happened 2 weeks ago: darling hubby bought more ice cream! So I've spent the last 2 weeks looking into the freezer every night at this:






The spoon is from a weak moment. I left it there as a reminder that I am stronger than temptation and I can do all things, including NOT eating this ice cream, through Christ who strengthens me.


It also assures me that I will have a clean spoon at the ready tomorrow morning.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><


I helped the Easter Bunny out today.


I spent most of the day today driving around town trying to find three chocolate crosses. Actually, two milk chocolate crosses and a white chocolate cross. (Tigger hates chocolate).


I have always believed that, while the Easter Bunny can drop by and leave a basket full of goodies, some of those goodies should be related to the actual holiday. I have never allowed a chocolate bunny in any of their baskets. And never had to, until last year.


Again, like last year, I was unsuccessful at locating the aforementioned chocolate crosses. I am disappointed and understandably irratated. Just like there is no "Christmas" without Christ, without the cross, there would be no Easter.


I think that between now and next Easter I will try to locate a candy mold and just make my own. How about that for a new Easter tradition?!


In the meantime, I'm going about the normal pre-Easter preperation: ironing, making sure everyone had shoes and socks (yes, I have teenagers and I still have to do that), getting things together before the mad dash to Mother's church in the morning.


Maybe the kids won't notice the bunnies.


Blessed Easter everyone!


~En-JOY


Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Confession Time: I'm a Packrat

You know how in a movie, when someone gets fired, they hand them a little box to put their belongings in to leave?



That will never be me.

If I were ever to be fired from my job, it would take me three days to clean out my desk.

Why? I'm a pack rat.

This is what my desk currently looks like:




I find it hard to part with things, especially printed information. You never know what you may need down the road. Trust me, if someone in my office needed to know the price of tea in China ten years ago, I have the memo.


Though it might take me a few minutes to find it.


Yes, I know. But there is some method to my madness.


I love "sticky notes." I honestly don't know how I functioned before I had them. I jot down things on sticky notes all the time. I have several sizes and colors of sticky notes and use them for everything from jotting down a quick reminder to scripting whole memo's to document occurances. The downside to sticky notes is there is a limit to their stickiness and you often find them stuck to unrelated items. I cleaned out the bottom of my purse today and found six sticky notes in the bottom. They have random notes (such as "home", which means "take this home") to telephone numbers of unnamed people (here I must apologize, if you are expecting a call from me, as soon as I figure out which one of these numbers might be yours).


I also love highlighters. I use a different color for each day of the week, an idea I got from a former nurse, who explained that each shift used a different color to make chart notes. It was a given that notes in a particular color were made by a particular shift nurse at just a glance. That seemed logical to me so I devised my own system. Monday's are yellow, Tuesday's are pink, Wednesday's are green, Thursday is blue, and Friday is orange. I've used this color code for years. If you bring me the original document of an order I keyed ten years ago and it's highlighted in green, I can tell you at just a glance that I processed the order on a Wednesday.


I use a type of paperweight to mark various stacks of pending work. They are actually laminated strips of paper, each printed with the type of stack they are protecting. "Orders with Issues" is my favorite.


A great deal of real estate, that large bottom desk drawer to be exact, is filled to the brim with my "Things To Do" note books. I use them to jot down my objectives for the day, or things that I handle that day and tick them off as they are down. And I probably have everyone one I've ever used. You know that memo about the price of tea in China? There is a note made that I recieved it and sent it to be distributed to the CSR team and it's in a notebook in the bottom of that drawer.


After 20 years at a company, one accumulates quite a bit of personal property. I have a stress ball shaped like a coffee cup. I have a stress ball shaped like a lion. I have a stuffed fish, a paddle ball shaped like a fish, I have a paddle ball shaped like a lion. I have 2 dozen coffee mugs and about 30 magnets, half of which are somehow coffee related. I have at least 15 different name tags from various events. There is an apothocary jar full to the rim with buttons to celebrate a customer visit. I have 10 or 12 photos of my family, none of which are remotely current.


Under my desk is a box of tee shirts, 4 empty vases, and a box of empty Walmart bags (that I do share whenever we get the "cleaning out the fridge" memo). There is no telling what is hiding behind that black curtain behind my chair.


We have a "tour ready" philosophy, that I am currently failing to meet. I try to conduct my tours in the middle of the room where it's less crowded and I don't have to worry about explaining the cartoon I have pinned to my wall that makes me laugh hysterically whenever I take the time to read it.

My email is not much better. IT has me on their "top ten offenders" list and has since disabled my "manual empty" option on the trash folder. It automatically empties itself every sixty days. The thought that sixty-one days from now I might need something I fliptantly deleted has driven me to avoid deleting anything.


Letting go of things is especially hard, because time and time again, I've thrown something out/deleted it, only to have someone ask me if I have it the very next day.


Maybe it's just the thought that one day I will be able to save the day because of something I've saved in my email or on my desk.


People do come from all over the office in search of things, because they know, of all people, I'm most likely to have it. They are more surprised when I don't have it than they are when I do.


I have a personal goal to have my office weeded and organized by the end of this year.


But it looks like I may have to take a few days off to do it.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Confession Time: Lazy People and the Motorized Shopping Scooter

Lazy people irk me.

Lazy people who feel the need to use the motorized shopping scooter at my local Walmart irk me more.

I completely understand the need for the motorized shopping scooter. I understand that I may, one day, be someone driving one. I completely understand why I completely understand that there are seemingly healthy-looking sick people that also need to use them. But I slso know a few seemingly healthy-looking sick people who wouldn't be caught dead on one too.

Our local Walmart has about 6 or 8 of these scooters. Yesterday, while I was grocery shopping, ALL of them were in use. They were all over the place, putt-putting along and making navigating the aisles a little time consuming. I am fine with that.

But when I see an extremely overweight husband and wife, who happened to park next to me in a regular parking space, not displaying a handicap placard, having showed no problem making it from our parking spot into the store, driving along shopping, it REALLY irked me!

I mean, what are the odds that they would BOTH to use the scooters?!
It was obvious that they were just too lazy to walk around the store.

My BFF has fibromyalgia. She doesn't "look" like she has a debilitating condition. If anyone deserves a ride in the scooter, she does. But she won't. Just like she doesn't need to be lifting the milk from the cart, she wouldn't dream of giving into her condition. She is fighting it tooth and nail. And she wouldn't dream of using a scooter.

I broke my toe about this time last year. I spent nearly 2 weeks on crutches, but at no time during that time did I feel the need to use the scooters.

Everytime I see someone scooting along, too lazy to walk the aisles, I think about the movie "Wall-E." You know, where everyone is overweight and atrophied and riding around in little scooters, watching the t.v. and not interacting one another, despite being side by side.

Yeah, it all starts with the scooters at Walmart.