Treading Water

So, I had a long moment of personal panic the other evening.  And it was VERY un-fun.  But it proved to be helpful and a bit enlightening once I managed to shut-up my inner-howler-monkey-freak-out-voice (not to be confused with outer-howler-monkey-super-excited-voice) and really think about my little dilemma.  

I've been cast in the production of "Postmortem" by Ken Ludwig at our local community theatre (insert outer-howler-monkey-super-excited-voice here____) and I'm loving every minute of it because I haven't been in a play since high school and I looooooooove theatre.  *side bar... if you are familiar with the play, I'm playing Louise!!  If you aren't familiar with it...you simply must get your hands on a copy!  Wonderful play.....witty, hysterical, dramatic, mysterious.  Simply wonderful!*  Now then, with theatre acting comes the need for a biography for the program so the audience can get to know the actors a little bit in their natural habitat.  This theatre is great because the cast just had to fill out a short questionnaire about the who, what, where, when, whys, and hows of our lives and the director will write the bios for us. 

This is where my moment of panic came in.  One of the questions was, "What are your goals or aspirations?"

....uhhhhhh.......well, I, ah......maybe....no......I guess...umm....no


HOLY SHIT!...I'm a 27 year-old college graduate and I have no CLUE what I want to do with my life!!!!

WHAT does that SAY about me!?!?!?  (don't answer that)

My degree is a BA in communication with double emphases in broadcasting and public relations.  I was a news and sports reporter for 2 years before I moved to Florida to be with my husband.  I would be willing to get back into news but...meh.  I live in Panama City Beach which has no PR companies that I know of (and the news stations aren't hiring at the moment). Plus, I'm sorta toying with the idea of starting my own wedding planning company.

Soooooooo,  yeah.

Whilst I am performing the great job hunt (like everyone else in the nation) I've decided to dip my toesies into the freelance writing pool just to see what kinda cash where that gets me.  So far I've only submitted one essay to Skirt magazine for their upcoming January issue...and I haven't heard anything back...yet; but I have lots of drafts in the works for a couple other publications that hire out freelance work.  Anyone know of any??  I'm also still working on our book...but that project is a long way off from being finished and submitted for publication.  I don't blog nearly as much as I would like to but I'm sure that will come with time, and practice in self-discipline.  Any advice on turning my blog into a meal ticket?  I'm pretty sure THAT would be great motivation!  I know I can place ads in my sidebar but how exactly does that work and does it really work??

I'm sure you're dying to know how I answered that looming question on the bio.  Well, as far as the audience members are concerned my goals and aspirations can be summed up in one statement....  "to be a wildly successful published author/writer."

At least it sounds like I have a life or that I'm gloriously delusional.  Either way, it's more interesting than "idunno".

My Grand-dad the Veteran

This may be a day late but I'm o.k. with that because, as far as I'm concerned, everyday is Veterans Day.  I want to say a great big "THANKS!!" to the Diva-licious mom and family over at Mom In High Heels for not only her husband's service in the U.S. Army, but for inspiring me to reminisce about my Grand-dad, the Army Veteran who served in the Korean War...

 

I lived with my maternal Grandparents until I was 12.  I loved both of them DEARLY, looking past the fact that my Grand-dad was a bit of a grumpy.  As a small child, I knew that he had been in the Army and I knew that he had fought in the Korean war.  I personally don't remember him ever talking about his experiences but I do know that, of our family members, he would discuss that time in his life with his son.  My Grandmother said they would sit together in the room we called "the library" (floor to ceiling built-in, crammed full with books, appropriately named I'd say) for hours upon end.  My Uncle inherited the majority of the memories of my Grand-dad's war experience and how it affected our family; and he cherishes those memories to this day.

BUT, dear Uncle wasn't the only one that made it out with memories...I managed to snag a couple of my own; one not so happy and one simply wonderful. 

The not-so-happy memory revolves around an ice-cream bowl and spoon.  You see, Grand-dad not only fought in the war; he was shot in the knee, listed as MIA, then presumed dead and later discovered as a POW.  During his imprisonment one of the ways his captors tortured him was to enclose him in a metal box that was just large enough for him to sit with his knees to his chest and bang and scrape on the metal box for hours upon hours at a time.  When this story was told to me in my teenage years it made me realize, for the first time, that I had always eaten my dessert in another room when I was little.  You see, I was a child VERY dedicated to ice-cream and I refused to leave even the tiniest melted bit in the bowl.  My overzealous scraping of the ice-cream bowl was a trigger for my Grandfather, understandably so.  Though I can't recall him ever reacting to my dessert mutilation, there was obviously one evening that I was gently banished to another part of the house whenever the time came for me and my ice-cream to have a tete-a-tete.  As a child, I didn't think anything of it, in fact, I thought it was an extra treat because I got to watch t.v. while enjoying my sweet.  The reasoning behind the ice-cream routine coming full circle caused me to view and respect my Grand-dad's service and sacrifice in a whole new way.  Growing up, I respected his Soldier/Veteran status because I was told to.  I didn't grasp WHAT it meant to be a Veteran...until I understood the reasoning behind my ice-cream isolation.

What strength and iron will Veterans must posses to recover from the experience of war.  They ones that are blessed with the ability to come home return a different person.  A changed individual working every moment in the following days to return to their life and the person they were before their deployment.  They must jump from fighting a war within another country to fighting a war within themselves.  Those of us that remain safe and secure back home, reaping the benefit of freedom ONLY attained through the sacrifice of Veterans and Soldiers, have a job as well.  Our job is to respect, support, appreciate and cherish this GIFT our nation's Veterans are protecting for us.  We must support them and be compassionate and considerate of their road to recovery; remembering that all of their strength required to try and re-enter their pre-war life can be momentarily broken by something as harmless as a child with a bowl of ice-cream.

Yet, on the flip side, Grand-dad found some healing by using his battle wounds for a bit of humor while engaging the imagination of a small girl.  Grand-dad always used to say to me, "See ya later alligator" and I would, of course, come right back with, "After while crocodile."  He loved it!  Well, his bullet wounds left him with 2 round scars side by side, on either side of his knee and at night, when he would walk around in his jammies (a.k.a undershirt and boxer shorts with a bathrobe) he would point to his knee and say, "Miranda, ya know what happened here??"  Though I was fully aware that they were bullet scars from his time serving our country, I couldn't help but giggle as I knew what was coming. This was a regular and beloved exchange between just the two of us.  He would look at me with that mischievous grin I am convinced only grandfathers (even grumpy ones) are able to create, and say, "An alligator bit me!"  and I would respond with an overly-dramatic, "GASP!!"  Overjoyed with our silly game, we would share a hearty laugh over our cleverness, then Grand-dad would gently chuck my chin and wink before walking away whistling with a twinkle in his eye and a bounce in his step. And that is exactly how I choose to remember my grumpy Grand-dad; the Korean War Veteran.

To ALL United States Military past, present and future:  GOD BLESS YOU!  THANK you for your time, your dedication, your strength, service and sacrifice.  My prayers are for you, my thoughts are with you and my respect is eternally yours.

Dear So and So - Guest appearance by Hubby

Dear Training Meetings,

Why do you suck to much?  I mean really, you take time away from my family and friends just so we can learn things we already know.  When you walk into these trainings you sit down and wait for everyone to show up.  After an hour of sitting there and introducing everyone you get started on the actual power point presentation.  Someone tell me why trainers have you read the bullet points word for word on these presentations?  Should you not be able to read them yourself and maybe the trainer has some sort of other input on what the bullet point is trying to make?  (wow this whole blogging to vent thing really works, I feel better already).

For three days i sat in a room with other managers thinking the same thing over and over, "LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!"  We get this book that has activities and follows the presentation, while a trainer reviewes the presentation and keeps everyone on track.  I dont understand why we cant just work the questions in the book, have the trainer there to ask questions, and maybe the three day course will take 1 day...


I understand that there were some very good questions asked at this training class, but the trainer is a person we call and have conference calls with on a regular basis.  Give us a reference guide and have us look up our own damn answers.  Everything in the corporate world is black and white anyways, why not give us the guide, let us make our own mistakes, learn from them and move on with our lives.


I am very tired of the retail environment and I am ready to move on from it.  So, training meetings, I would like to throw up a big middle finger to you since you are worthless and pointless...but the paid mileage is good.

Dear So and So- Hmmm

I love Dear So and So. Normally, I don't have an issue finding things to vent about. Yet, today, I'm rather chipper. International Delight Pumpkin Spice seasonal coffee creamer is BACK BABY, it's a GORGEOUS sunny day outside, hubby is going to WILLINGLY help me with chores and I live on the water at the beach. It's a good day. So I think all I have to vent about today are daily inconveniences.

Want to rant??? Grab the button and let us have it!!



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Dear dishes,

I clean you and put you away and you pile right back up again.  I. clean. you. and. put. you. away. and. you. pile. RIGHT. BACK. UP. AGAIN.  Mucho inconvenient.

Please figure out how to clean yourselves....I'll still put you away.  I don't mind that part...it's quick.

Thanks,
Lady of the House

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Dear Laundry,

We really need to come to a compromise.  I have no problem sorting you, putting you in the washer and then putting you in the dryer.  Don't you think we could come to a happy medium where you fold yourself and put yourself away?? 

I don't think that's too  much to ask.

Get on it,
Lady of the House

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Dear Judah-Man,

We get it.  You're fluffy.  You're adorable.  You look like a miniature lion.  You're king of the freakin' world.  Your little furry face is the highlight of my day and you have more personality than Bill Cosby, Katt Williams and Dane Cook....COMBINED.

BUT

Contrary to popular belief, your Daddy and I canNOT pet you EVERY WAKING MOMENT.  Your loyal subjects have other, not equally important but important never-the-less, things to do during our day.  Plus, our hands start to cramp after a while.

Please accept this for the hard truth that it is.

Wuvs,

Da Mommy and Da Daddy

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Dear Roxie-Baby,

You are an absolute JOY.  Your Daddy and I couldn't ask for a sweeter, better behaved, more beautiful, more loving and more loyal pound puppy.  The day we adopted you was one of the best days of both our lives.

I'm just wondering if you could maybe get a grip on the Roxie-hair tumbleweeds that are attempting to take over the house.  I vacuumed 2 days ago and there's already one bigger than Judah in the corner.  You're just too pretty to shave.  Figure it out.  Mkthanks.

Love,
Mommy

The Story Of Us...And Our Two Weddings

As promised in my previous post, ...Through My Recent God Pause, I've been working on the VERY beginning stages of a book my husband and I are attempting to write.  We have no idea what this will bring.  We have no idea where this will take us.  At the moment, we would like to have it published one day but we may change our minds in the future.

This book is a tribute to my father.  Dad is suffering from a neurological disease believed to be CJD and we have been told we will lose him by the end of the year.  Mr. Galloping and I are putting in writing what we've experienced, what we've learned and how we've survived my father's HORRID illness, our shotgun engagement, one shotgun wedding and planning a second, formal wedding.

I hope to shine some light on a disease that, in a year's time, only affects about 200 people in the United States.

I'm writing this post to pimp out our blog dedicated to documenting the journey of writing our book.  Go and check it out, if you like what you see...please let me know, follow along and grab the button for your sidebar!!  Please help us share our story!

My First Random Tuesday

This should be interesting. I've enjoyed reading other's Random Tuesdays but wasn't so quick to jump on the bandwagon. As an ex-news reporter random writing just didn't cut it! You see, I'm going against 5 years of college education and 2 years of career training and experience here kids!! Its appearing to be painful, liberating and oh-so-necessary all at the same time. Kinda like a brazilian bikini wax!

There are dishes in the sink that are BEGGING to be put in the dishwasher. I wish they would quit complaining and do it themselves. I'll never understand why dishes can't just leap into the dishwasher...it would make MY life so much easier.

I've come to really enjoy my ritual of sharing an apple with our Pomeranian Judah...
In case you didn't know...hes king of beasties. He gets SO excited when I pull an apple out of the fridge! I'll cut little pieces off as I'm eating it and he is such a little gentleman when he eats them. Roxie, our golden retriever mix waits patiently for the core of the apple....


I really should be working on the book my husband and I are writing. I've slacked off the past couple of weeks. My muse is napping I think. Bitch.

I hope my family in Atlanta isn't floating away. Mother Nature obviously has a bone to pick with the ATL. I can't imagine why.

On the flip side, its been mighty sunny and humid here at Panama City Beach. That, added to our neighborhood's FAB pool overlooking the bay has me looking like a Mediterranean girl rather than the white bread I am. And yes, I wear sunscreen. Maybe I'll change it up today and go to the beach. Maybe that's where my muse is. Bitch.

Well, dishes are calling, as is laundry, not as loudly as the beach though. And I'm supposed to be writing. I need to find my muse and kick her in the bitch bum.

Tuesdays are good. I think I'll be back next week. TTFN!

Dear So and So - Enough is Enough

Dear Husband,

I love you DEARLY. You mean the absolute world to me and you know there is no one else on this planet I would want to share this adventure with.....BUT.....enough is enough. Because I am your wife and I love you so much, I will cheerfully and gratefully keep our BEAUTIFUL home (that you work VERY hard to provide us) neat, tidy and healthy. Yet, remember darling husband that I'm your WIFE, YOUR PARTNER, YOUR SOURCE OF PEACE AND CALM....I'm not your mother, I'm not your babysitter, I'm not your maid. The laundry hamper is VERY CONVENIENTLY located behind the bedroom door. Has been SINCE WE MOVED IN 5 MONTHS AGO. I will happily draw up a map if necessary. If your clothes can't find their way to the hamper VIA YOUR PERFECTLY FUNCTIONING HANDS......they aren't getting washed. Period, the end.

If you wanna wear smelly, rumpled clothes, fine. But a smelly husband does NOT a frisky wife make.

Any questions??? Do NOT make me call your mother....crap, she's the one that created this monster....do NOT make me call MY MOTHER.


LOVE,
Your wife at the end of her rope.


P.S. What I don't understand is why you are so attentive (hamper, washing, ironing YOURSELF) about your work clothes and not your regular clothes.

Dear So and So - Bridal Woes

Dear Bridal Industry,

What in God's name made you think it was at ALL acceptable to turn the average bride into a whiny, spoiled, snarky, self-righteous, wedding spend-thrift??? Therefore jacking the average overall price of a wedding to 30,000 EFFING DOLLARS!?!?!?!?!?!

KNOCK IT OFF!

Take note, shady industry, I WILL overcome this little conspiracy of yours. I'm smart, creative and humble. I WILL have an elegant, incredible, GORGEOUS wedding for less than HALF of your average and even YOU, bridal industry, will wish you had had MY day.

Does my rebellion make you uncomfortable darling bridal industry? Deal with it.

Have a lovely day.

Your charming Bride,
Miranda

...Through My Recent God-Pause

At times, life throws so much at us that all we want to do is hit the pause button so we can re-group, re-focus and take a long look in the mirror while we ask, "Who's life am I in?" That's where this story starts, with me looking in the mirror...thinking, "That looks like me, but this isn't supposed to happen in my life. Hasn't my family been through enough? WHO'S LIFE AM I IN?" This rendezvous with that spiteful looking-glass had become an unwelcome part of my routine as of late.

Allow me to take you back, to set the scene, if you will. My family has suffered a lot of loss; there has been murder, miscarriages, violence, addiction, divorce, suicide, abuse and disease. Disease happens to be the recurring monster in our family. I had skin cancer at 18. My great-grandmother had dementia. My grandfather, who I adored and was my Father-figure until my mom married, suffered and died from liver cancer. His death was not a peaceful passing. My Grandmother (who raised me) is the person I love more than anyone else in the world, except my husband of course, and is living with Alzheimer's. She lives her life paranoid, angry and confused. To anyone who has not witnessed this cruel disease progress in a person over time, I envy you.

One would think (I know I did) that our family has suffered enough heart-ache. One would be wrong. Let me introduce you to my Daddy. He came into my life when I was about 8...and he stayed. He married my mom when I was 10. He is a kind, loving, understanding, funny, never-meets-a-stranger, type of man that I truly believe was hand-delivered into my life by God Himself. Please understand, in my mind, this man isn't just any Daddy, this man is the Daddy that steps in and loves a 10-year-old child as his own flesh and blood. This man is the Daddy that reaches out, claims as his own, and holds in his lap the biological, emotional, financial, personal, life-long responsibility that, at one point, belonged to another man. That takes a love that goes beyond biology. This man was the Daddy that looked into my eyes and caught a glimpse of another man's genes, but saw only me. He comforted me the first time I cried over a boy, he oh-so-patiently taught me how to drive on a stick shift, he gently zipped me into my prom dress then gave my date a rather unsettling evil-eye, he cried when he dropped me off at college, he knew I was going to marry the man that is now my husband years before I did, and he recently walked me down the aisle. This Daddy is my absolute hero and now, a painfully short 19 years since our first "hello", I'm trying to figure out how in the hell to say "goodbye."

You see, disease has reared it hideous head in our little family bubble YET AGAIN. My darling Daddy might be dying, at 47 years of age. I say "might" because his doctors have only been able to give us a working diagnosis of Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD). Its a working diagnosis because there is no way to give a definitive diagnosis until a brain autopsy is performed following death. His doctors anticipate that he will pass away before the end of the year.

According to the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, "CJD is a rare, degenerative, invariably fatal brain disorder. It affects about one person in every one million people per year worldwide; in the United States there are about 200 cases per year. In the early stages of disease, patients may have failing memory, behavioral changes, lack of coordination and visual disturbances. As the illness progresses, mental deterioration becomes pronounced and involuntary movements, blindness, weakness of extremities, and coma may occur." You see, CJD literally eats away at the brain..it rips holes through what makes a person tick, turning the brain into the consistency of a sponge. No one knows what causes CJD, and no one knows what to do about it. Before my family even began to notice wisps of his symptoms, he was already dying. Dad has always been an extremely healthy man. So imagine our confusion when we began noticing that something was off with him around Thanksgiving 2008. He had lost weight (yet, still ate like a horse) and his behavior was abnormal. We honestly thought he was just tired and over-stressed from the Holiday Season commotion. By Christmas his behavior was downright odd. By the end of February his health was on a rapid, downward spiral and we had no way to stop it.

He changes EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. My mom, my two younger brothers (ages 17 and 15), and I watch as our AMAZING man continues to DIE. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. And there isn't a damned thing anyone can do about it. Absolutely nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Every day, I wish we were facing cancer again...at least that is something we can actually fight.

He can't wash my car for me anymore when I come visit. He can't try to teach me, yet AGAIN, how to change my own darn oil. He can't bake his INCREDIBLE twice-baked potatoes that are my favorite anymore. He won't see my brothers graduate. He won't see them make Eagle Scout. He won't be able to take THEM to college. He won't be there when THEY get married. He won't be there for me to call when Husband and I buy our first house. He won't be able to teach my not-so-handyman-husband how to be handy. He won't be one of the first to hold his newborn grandbabies. He won't EVER hold his grandchildren. My Dad won't be.

Naturally, I'm a mess. My strength is constantly being tested. I feel as though I am hanging onto the last shreds of my composure and I just want to take a pearl handled (I am a lady, after all) 38 caliber Colt revolver and with body rigidly defiant, hair reflective of a lion's mane, a guttural battle cry....take aim and empty the cylinder on that damn pause button.





Wait for it.....





In walks God, stage right. He, in His Ultimate Wisdom and Gentleness, taps the pause button for me and pulls me into His lap the same as Daddy did. A God-Pause is a time in life where God decides to reach down into our life and says, "HOLD EVERYTHING!!" He scoops you up before you even start to fall from being too life-dizzy. God-Pauses are infinitely better than personal-pauses where we, ourselves, decide things are just too hard and check the eff out for a period of time. A God-Pause, for me, gives an opportunity for reflection, processing, brain-storming and following the Holy Spirit back to the path that will lead out of the forest and into the sunlight. God-Pauses make me antsy and nervous though. All motivation to do anything is gone, you have no clue what you are supposed to be doing with yourself or your life, just about everything in life is a little foggy, your brain NEVER stops, sleep is restless and there is this stirring in your soul that keeps you from ever being able to relax. I never know what will come once God takes me off pause again. Its never something small and this God-Pause is over.

God smacked my play button so hard this time it jolted me from my slumber. In my dreams I saw my husband and myself writing a book together. A book about our story, which is rather unique and hard to believe at times, and our two weddings. You see, when said Husband proposed to me in May I knew I was facing a tough decision. We had always wanted a large wedding that we took our time planning. Sadly, time is not on Daddy's side. I absolutely refused to lose the experience of my Daddy walking me down the aisle. REFUSED. I also refuse for my groom and I to miss the experience of taking our time to plan the large wedding that we have dreamed about. So, never being the type of person to let walls and rules and boundaries and "SUPPOSED-TOs" rein me in, I got creative and decided we would have two weddings. Period, the end.

Our first was on July 5th and we planned it in one month, which I have learned through the planning of our second wedding, was a God-given MIRACLE in itself (stay tuned for future installments of "Wedding- Round 2 Drama"). I managed to pick out, purchase, ship and alter my dream wedding gown, hire a phenomenal photographer, book the ceremony and reception locations, arrange flowers, hand-make my veil and headpiece, get our marriage license, arrange music, arrange tuxes, iron out ceremony details, iron out reception details, get immediate family in town, help mom with her outfit, pick out Scripture, etc, etc, ETC...all within 4 weeks. I deserve an Oscar for that performance.

At first, we decided we were going to keep 'Wedding, Round 1' quiet because we didn't want the fact that we were already married to take away from the special-ness of 'Wedding, Round 2' for our friends and family that didn't get the memo. After being married a few weeks I thought about the fact that we chose to handle our wedding ceremony(ies) this way to honor my Daddy and hiding our decision and our reasons for it was a contradiction to that honor. Unacceptable.

So, secret over.

HEAR YE, HEAR YE... We be hitched. And we be writing. Yes, God took this particular pause to give me time to learn some things, to grow a little. He has put an idea in my head and a fiery desire in my heart to write that book with my husband. Will it be painfully difficult? I'm sure. Will it be heart-wrenching? Sadly, yes. Will it teach the hubs and I things about each other we never knew before? Absolutely. Will we ever submit it for publishing? Who knows. Will it be a best-seller? Who cares. If it is, will we donate a portion of our profit to CJD research? Oh God YES. Will it be an honor to my knight in shining armor and provide a way to keep his spirit alive in our family for generations to come? You bet your buttons.

...Through My RANDOM Thoughts

Its thunderous and exhilarating. Rushing, reaching, searching, discovering, learning, fighting, hurting, growing, believing.....living.

Its vastly unfair to have so much available to us in this world and have less than 100 years to attempt to see, learn and experience it all.

I once read a quote that said, "I'm right at that age where I'm old enough to know better but still young enough not to care." I want to always have that mentality. I always want to have the vision of a child. Children, to me, are genius in its purest form. They know how to see something for what it really is, at its core, without being distracted by the surrounding toxins that skew the truth of the matter at hand. We lose this as the shell of our innocence begins to break; be it by force, experience or simply growth.

I'm too young to already believe that youth is wasted on the young. I'm also WAY too young to feel as old as I do sometimes. And I am muchmuchmuch too young to have to "get prepared" to say goodbye to my Daddy. His life is just going to be too damn short. I pray that he will be able to hold and kiss his grandchildren in heaven as God sends them down to me. I pray that there really are holes in the floor of Heaven so he can watch my brothers and I be the absolute best we can be in his memory.

I feel as though, right now, my purpose is to experience. To lay my six senses on every aspect I can reach that life has to offer and learn from it. There is SO much going on around me and in me that I think God has put me, myself and I on pause so I don't get too dizzy. He has already caught me before I even fell. I don't much enjoy pause though. Pause tends to force one to reflect: on self, others, family, thoughts, emotions, feelings, choices, motives, desires, morals, beliefs, faith. Pause tends to hurt but one always seems to be stronger, balanced, all-around better and have stamina for a gallop, after a good long God-Pause. He seems to be working on something in my life; I sense a change in the works and I hear His voice in the wind, but I'm getting antsy.

Some believe it would be best to stroll through life, slowly and steadily, to make sure we absorb as much as is possible. I guess that's something to consider, but I'm only able to get a good whip of the wind through my hair when I gallop.