Cross One Off Of The Bucket List!

DONE.

And if you think that was way too fast, just know that most of the book was already written and not just within my blog.  I had an equal amount of stories set aside just in case I ever found the time to put the book together.  Thank goodness for unemployment.

When the kids returned from school yesterday and saw that the book was completed, they both got really excited and told me they were going to read it.  I was really nervous.  They don't usually read anything that I write.  So I was happily relieved when Mae kept laughing and saying, "I remember that!"  Then, the best compliment of all was, "I REALLY like the way you describe us.  It fits perfect."  And then, THEN...I wouldn't have even believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but KENNY read part of it!!!  He NEVER reads my blog.  Like, EVER.  A few pages in, he looked at me and said, "This is actually good.  I want to keep reading and I never want to keep reading."  I nearly fainted.

Now the unfortunate news: I'm pretty sure that writing and editing and reading and re-reading the final version at least six times was the easy part.  I've been reading online pretty much anything I can find that I think my help me get published.  I even ordered a book off of amazon titled "How to Publish a Book."  Yes, I see the irony.  So for now, I'll be sending my completed manuscript off to a whole bunch of places and hoping to hear back from them (but from what I'm reading, that will take at least six to twelve months.)  In the mean time, I suppose it's never too early to get started on Book #2!

Time to write my heart out.

Please be patient with me as I try to write a book.  A lot of it will come from what is already written in this blog, but I also want to put in a bunch of new stuff.  Since there's only so much in me, this means that the blogs will be few and far between.

You are getting very sweepy.

Last night, as Mae and I were working on her family tree assignment and chatting away, I cautiously asked her the loaded question, "So, have you thought about what you want for Christmas?"  I braced myself for a long list of toys that I've never heard of but instead, Mae shot up onto her knees from her previous tummy position and radiance beamed throughout her entire being as she excitedly said, "I want a broom, Steve!"  For reasons unbeknownst to me, she sometimes calls me Steve, but that didn't bug me nearly as much as the fact that she wanted a broom for Christmas.  I said, "Really?  A broom?  Because you know we already have one of those, right?"  She corrected me, "No, YOU have one.  I don't.  Sometimes when you're sweeping, I wanna sweep, too.  We could work together, you know."  Oh...kay?  I told her that if she was a really good girl and went and took a bath now, that maybe Santa-Mom could swing a broom for her.  She did as she was told.  About five minutes later, I heard the running water come to a halt and Mae yelled, "MOM?!"  I yelled back, "YEAH?" and she replied, "I WANT A DUST PAN, TOO!"  Oh, my. 

Handy Mandy. (Get it?)

The first half of the day was spent working out in the muddy rain, renewing the dog's outdoor pen into a suitable living area for them to thrive in from now on.  And this time, I mean it!  Big dogs should just not be indoors.  I suppose there are exceptions, but big dogs who share a home with three cats and like to swim in the pond and jump in the mud puddles should definitely NOT be indoors.  Maybe it's not that bad.  Maybe I just annoy easily. Or maybe it was my upbringing, Dad constantly teaching me that dogs are good animals and dogs are fun animals but only, only, ONLY if they stay out of the house.  You just get used to things, you know?  And don't worry, they have a whole shed with two doghouses and their very own blankies inside.  They're not exactly 'roughing it'. 

 Next up: cooking lasagna and fixing the toilet that hasn't flushed properly in nearly a year.  But those two tasks are very separate, I want you to know.  And next next up:  redoing Mae's bedroom floor.  And probably Kyler's, too, because sometimes I think that life actually should be fair.  Nearly every carpet in our house was disgustingly dirty when we moved in, then add the five animals and two children and one Kenny and...one by one, I will be putting in new flooring.  I might even let Kenny help me.  I might even let him do most of the work while I idly stand nearby and supervise.

In the realization that I am actually sitting here watching daytime television in between paragraphs, I am getting away from this computer, this television and this entire living room.  I have a toilet to fix!

Why I quit my job. Again.

Life has taken another very swift turn, which I would have updated last week except my blog did not want me posting anything, apparently.  So let's catch you up: I came home on a Thursday night after a very long day of work to find Kenny excitedly standing at the front door.  I asked him what was up and he said, "I got a call for a job interview today."  This was good news, as he had been looking for work, so I asked when the interview was.  "It was today."  Based on his non-stop smile and inability to stand still, I assumed it went well, so I asked about pay and start date.  It doesn't seem appropriate to list his pay here, but it is better than mine.  "I start tomorrow."  He then told me how we would be working the exact same hours, including Saturdays.  Immediately panicked, I asked who will put the kids on the bus, retrieve them from the bus and get them to basketball games and wrestling meets on Saturdays.  This is when Kenny got really excited and said, "Quit your job!"  When the kids heard this, they both did a victory dance.  (I think they miss me).  After a very long family discussion, we decided that it only makes sense that I quit my job and find something with different hours.  I liked working for the post office.  I did.  But I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to working in the winter snow, sleet and downright cold.  And last Tuesday, when the hail was pouring down, I honestly called Kenny at work and when he couldn't talk, I deemed it an emergency.  I told him, "You need to know that I am thankful to not be working right now."  I was serious as serious could be.  

So for the past week, I have been cleaning insanely to make up for the six months that Kenny "cleaned".  Organization is once again becoming the method of our household and the calendar now has reminders on it, thus getting the children to all of their never-ending and very important scheduled events on time.  The fridge is stalked and the plants are returning to the land of the living, rather than the brink of death that Kenny has had them skating across since May.  All animals now have been updated on shots, with one going in this very Thursday to be spayed.  The car is in the shop and the Jeep is going next.  As you can see, I have much to keep me busy.

On the night of the day that we decided I would be quitting my job, we laid in bed and I talked about all of the things I would miss and the equal amount of things I wouldn't miss about my job.  I couldn't write it before because I could lose my job, but seriously, if you get bit by a dog while working for the post office, they will fire you because it is "preventable".  So I "didn't" get bit by two dogs.  This is something that I am looking very forward to: not getting bit.  But something I will miss is the exercise.  So I lay there and tell Kenny, "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with dogs anymore.  But I hope I don't get fat."  Kenny, being the loving husband he is, simply patted my knee and said, "Oh, honey.  I hope you don't get fat, too."  This prompted the carrying-in of the treadmill the very next day.  Yes, the same treadmill that I hauled out to the garage just one month ago because, "I don't need THIS anymore!"  So we hauled it in and I plugged it into the nearest outlet to ensure that it worked and...nothing.  I pressed every button on the thing and...still nothing.  So Kenny let out a good grunt and got out his tools.  This is when Adam (his brother) showed up and together, they decided they could fix my treadmill.  After a few choice curse words, with Adam sitting on the belt of the treadmill (the one you walk on, not the one that runs it), Kenny decided to press the power button to see if it was working yet.  Of course, he did this with no warning, so when the belt began twirling at full speed, Adam went flying off of it at full speed.  Highlight of our night!  So now I am back to daily running.  I didn't even realize how much I had missed it!

So that's that.  I'm currently kind of looking for a job.  I say 'kind of' because there is still so much to do around here that I am just not in a huge hurry.  I've missed being with the kids all of the time.  I've missed their sporting events.  I've even missed helping them with their homework.  So for today, I shall clean and cook and Mae has an exciting family tree to work on.  But soon, I will be finding a new job.  

The Secret Garden of Spacey Dinosaurs.

Mae secretly planted a garden one day when nobody was looking.  She used the pumpkin and watermelon seeds she got from 4H.  Three days ago, upon seeing that there was a 'freeze warning' for the night, Kenny notified Mae that if she was going to pick one of her watermelons, she'd better do it now.  Her and Kyler both ran immediately out to the garden and together decided that one particular watermelon was large enough to pick.  Here it is:

After this photo was snapped, Mae gently set the watermelon on the island in the kitchen and grabbed a cutting board and knife.  She then used her 'presentation hands' and announced, "Now, we're going to see what it tastes like to eat a watermelon grown with no chemicals or wal mart in it."  I cut the melon in half and it wasn't as bright red as the ones you buy at the store so we were all a little leery.  I picked up a fork and plucked a small piece out of the melon.  I cautiously stuck it into my mouth and...it was beyond delicious.  We took turns each trying a bite, then everybody grabbed a fork and instead of calmly slicing the watermelon and partitioning it out like a normal family would do, we all pulled a stool up and just dug right into the two halves on the counter in front of us.  Barbarians!  It was just too good to wait.  

In other happenings (and since I particularly feel like uploading photos), here's a great one of Kenny making fun of me.  I have a long history of spacing off.  Boring movies, football games and lectures are the top three things that set off this spaciness.  Oddly enough, Kenny loves boring movies, football and giving lectures.  And according to him, this is EXACTLY what I look like when I fall under one of these spells:

And we can't leave Kyler out.  He had quite a day today.  Kenny took him (and only him) to a dinosaur exhibit.  He was in dinosaur heaven.  It's pretty much all he's talked about ever since.  Wait, actually, it's one-hundred percent all he's talked about (so much that it may have sent me into bug-eyed space-stare a time or two already).  Fortunately, I told Kenny several times to take lots of pictures and he actually listened, which allows me now to share my new favorite picture:

He just looks so oddly natural.  

And now to break the unfortunate news to you:  It is almost Monday.  That being said, it is nearly nine o'clock and I have a good book and a comfy bed waiting for me so I wish everybody a happy and funny week.  

Under the hood.

Aside from last Saturday (brrrr...), the weather has proven to be perfect for delivering mail.  And on these ever so perfect days, people are very likely to leave their houses to chat with their mail carrier.  This most usually makes me happy, but sometimes our conversations turn out to be not so pleasant.  The following story is one in which I was able to turn the chatter around to my own liking.

A man is outside working on his truck.  I put the mail in his box and greet him with a, "Hello!"  He steps away from his truck and asks, "Hey, what ya' got under your hood?"  I look at him as if he's just said something absurd (hasn't he?) and I ask, "Excuse me?"  He points to my mail truck and asks, "What kind o' engine you got in there?"  And this is the moment where he expects me to shrink about ten sizes smaller.  He obviously asked me this question because I am a girl and girls don't typically know about engines.  And he is right about that...I have no idea about anything 'under the hood', nor do I care to know.  But I wasn't about to spend the rest of my day kicking myself for saying something stupid so I held my head high and said very matter-of-factly, "All of our postal trucks have recycled lawnmower engines in them.  Saves the post office money."  He looked stunned.  He stuttered something inaudible and then said, "Holy shit, really?"  I flashed a smile and said, "Nope.  I've never even tried to open the hood" and then I walked away as quickly as possible before he could ask me anything else I don't know.  So take that.

Dog vs. Man

I enter a nice apartment building for the very first time and there are six mailboxes on the west wall.  This is the fanciest apartment building I have delivered in and I immediately wonder about the people who live here. The six mailboxes are all opened with one skeleton key, but when I put my key in, the left side is jammed.  I stay calm and try again.  And again.  And again.  And pretty soon I'm not so calm.  I hit the mailboxes multiple times and then pull as hard as I can over and over, making quite a racket.  In the middle of it all, a door at the top of the stairs opens and an old man pops his head out to look at me.  I figure I've upset him, but instead he just laughs wildly.  I ask him, "Does this happen often?" and he tells me, "Never, actually."  He climbs down the stairs in his bare feet and says, "Let me try.  I'm an expert."  I ask, "An expert locksmith?"  And he whispers, "No, I used to be a mailman."  He takes the key and I figure that of course, the mailboxes will open up with no problem now, leaving me to look unable to handle my own job, but...nope.  He hit the mailboxes multiple times and tried pulling them open in exactly the same fashion as I did, which made me laugh, but eventually, he was able to shimmy the boxes open.  He looks at me and says, "See?  An expert!"  

As I deliver the mail, he climbs back up the steps.  He sits down, crosses his left leg over his right, then leans back onto his hands and begins small talk.  We chat up quite the storm and as I begin toward the door, he tells me, "You're going the wrong way."  He's right.  I tell him that he's the most helpful person that I've run into on this day and thank him.  He makes me promise that next time I deliver there, I must either knock on his door and announce my arrival, or at least make a huge racket with the mailboxes again.  

I was in the apartment building for less than five minutes, but it completely made up for the six hours of confusion and frustration that I endured before walking in there.  It's amazing how people can do that...just flip my mood around by doing nothing less than acknowledging my existence...well, and fixing all of my immediate problems and making me laugh.  This is pretty much the exact opposite of what I felt three blocks earlier when a dog tied to a swing set was able to move the swing set all the way across the yard in an effort to maul me.  (Though I am thankful that he was tied up with a durable chain instead of something he could easily break).  

Tomorrow is a new day!

The Chin

Mae wrote a story and read it aloud to her class.  The theme of the story was supposed to be: A time I got a scar.  Mae's story was titled: The Chin.  So, she read her story yesterday.  After school, I asked if her class liked it.  She said yes.  I asked if they laughed.  She said, "No...why would they laugh?"  I didn't have the heart to tell her that that's what Kenny and I did for a very long time when we read it.  This was a true story that took place over three years ago.  Mae smashed her face into the corner of the stereo and put a big rip in her chin.  We lived in Wymore at the time, and it just so happened that on that very day, they had discontinued emergency services due to some sort of quarrel within the department.  Therefore, when Kenny dialed 911, he was told that it would take them approximately thirty minutes to get to our house.  I thought he was overreacting anyway (Kenny isn't exactly calm in emergency situations), so I grabbed the phone from him and told them that we could drive our daughter to the hospital ourselves.  So that's what we did.  But the way that Mae worded this in her story is what got us laughing.  Here it is:  I broke my chin open.  Dad picked up the phone and called 911 but they weren't open that day so Mom and Dad had to drive me to the hospital.  I'm curious as to what her teacher thought of that line.  I'm also a little enraged at how Mae painted me compared to Kenny in her story.  I was barely in it at all, while 'Dad' saw blood running down my neck, 'Dad' called 911, 'Dad' drove me to the hospital, etc.  She failed to mention that when 'Dad' saw the blood running down her neck, he literally hurled her through the air at me, squealing, "Blood!  It's real blood!  OhmyGod, OhmyGod, OhmyGod!"  And then he ran in big circles for nearly a whole minute yelling, "Where's the phone?!!!" Meanwhile, MOM calmly took Mae into the bathroom, cleaned her up and told her that it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked and as soon as Dad can gather his composure, we would drive to the hospital and everything would be fine.  And it was, thanks to MOM!  I think I'll write my own story, titled The Chin: The True Story.  

But only a Crayola, none of that Rose Art crap...

I dreamed that I had a pounding headache (probably sleeping with my head butted up against the wall again...) and I asked Kenny for some Advil.  He explained that we were out of Advil..."but here, this works just as well.  Eat it."  He handed me a non-wrappered crayon.  (Still dreaming, remember).  Without much thought, I ate the crayon.  I did.  Immediately after, I woke up.  Reminiscing on the dream I'd just had, I decided that it meant that I trust my husband that much.  That's a whole lot of trust.  As I sat there in awe, Kenny rolled over and looked at me.  I monotonously said, "I'd eat a crayon for you," still in shock and a little confused.  But his response was not at all what I was looking for.  Kenny didn't give me multiple hugs and kisses, nor did he praise me.  He also didn't thank me for putting so much trust into him.  Instead, he simply replied, "That's disgusting," and rolled back over for more sleep.  We haven't spoken a word about it since.  I've thought maybe I should explain to him why I'd eat a crayon for him, but I think it might be best if we just sit this one out.

On work: I once watched an episode of Oprah that was dedicated to weight-loss.  The weight-loss "expert" explained that she likes to look at pounds lost in terms of butter, because basically, our fat is quite similar to butter.  So every time you lose a pound, you lose four sticks of butter.  I am happy to report that since starting my job, I have lost sixty sticks of butter.  Kenny keeps commenting on different muscles that are becoming defined on me.  Typically, I take these comments as insults because I'm not sure exactly what he's saying, but then when he explains (always with an eye roll) something like, "Your deltoid is your shoulder muscle," I perk up and flex in front of the mirror.

The Bigley's are doing quite wonderful.  The little Bigley's are bringing home nearly all A's on their school work and Kyler's trumpet is starting to sound like something similar to (but not quite like) music.  Hope all is well with my wonderful readers!

Kyler learned how to make a new noise today.

It's here.  Fifth grade band.  Kyler chose a shiny new trumpet tonite and eagerly took it out of the case when we got home.  He began "playing" said trumpet immediately.  As he did, Kenny came flying out of the bathroom asking, "What's wrong with the dog?!  Is he hurt?!  WHAT HAPPENED?!"  I had to explain to him that the dog was fine and the noise he was hearing was music.  Kind of.  (But quite honestly, that is exactly what I would expect a dying dog to sound like).  While staring at Kyler, Kenny slowly sat down on the couch and told him that maybe he should wait to practice until his teacher gives him some sort of instruction on how to play.  Kyler replaced the trumpet into the case and said with a nod, "Tomorrow, then."  

Flashback:  In my own fifth grade year, I was sitting on the edge of my bed practicing my newly-acquired saxophone.  After a few minutes, my door flow open and there stood my mom.  She calmly asked, while pulling her own hair out and punching the wall, "Will.  You.  Please.  STOP.  PLAYING.  THAAAAT!!!?"  And then she walked out of the room.  I was secretly happy about this demand because I was honestly hurting my own ears.  I didn't want to tell her that I wanted to quit band already so this ear-splitting sound that I was able to create was really quite beneficial to me.  I quit band the very next week.  My mom sped to the music store to return my saxophone before I changed my mind.  

But here's the thing.  Kenny and I have always made sure that our children know that quitting is not an option.  At least not right away.  We always say, "Give it a year."  We make sure they know before starting any new project or sporting event that we expect them to work on it for an entire year before they are allowed to quit.  And after an entire year of any and everything the kids have ever wanted to do, they've pretty much always continued on for many years.  And Kyler seems more than ready to tackle this mastering of the trumpet.  He said that his teacher told him to practice for one hour each week, but he plans on practicing an hour per DAY.  So all of this 'Don't quit', 'Don't give up', 'You can be whatever you want to be' advice that we've prided our parenting on has come back to bite us.  

And next year: double that order.

Day 90. Almost.

Tomorrow is my ninetieth work day at the post office.  This means that 1. It will be much more difficult for them to fire me if they so wish and 2. I will get a uniform allowance.  I realized today that after this many days of working, I finally walk to the correct side of the mail truck to enter it now.  Unfortunately, I now walk to the incorrect side of the Jeep or car when I'm not working.  I have even gone as far as hopping into the passenger seat, buckling my safety belt and getting utterly confused when I tried to put the key in the ignition and realized there was not even a steering wheel there.  And then I looked out the window to see Kenny standing there laughing at me.  Laugh it up, husband.  But I am watching you.  

Another thing I've done (but only once):  On my drive home from work, on a gravel road, a mailbox flag was up.  Without thinking, I pulled over to retrieve the mail.  It didn't take long to realize that I was on the wrong side of the vehicle.  Okay, in the wrong vehicle altogether.  And not on the clock.  I quickly pulled away, hoping that nobody saw me.  

And that's it for work stories.  But here's a great I-Finally-Got-A-Saturday-Off story.  We got my sister married.  We sure did.  It was the most fun I've had on a Saturday this whole year.  I gave a speech without making a huge ass of myself (I think) and though I must have drank at least thirty beers, I woke up the next morning hangover-free.  I love my sister.  I love weddings.  And from here on out, we will share an anniversary.  And Mae was quite happy that so many people showed up for her birthday.  I could tell you how much fun she had, but instead, I'll just let this photo tell you:

Cake face = a good time.  That's just that.  And beyond that, she got to dance for hours with glowing bracelets around her ankles, the lemonade was bottomless and the cousins were plentiful.  

The next day, Mae took her birthday earnings on a shopping trip.  She has been wanting a chair for quite some time now.  But not just any chair.  A chair made of bungee cords.  It.  Is.  Awesome.  She has already said, more than once, "I should have bought two chairs because EVERYBODY'S sitting in it and I never get to!"  We all want chairs made out of bungee cords now.  It's like sitting on a trampoline sized perfectly to fit your ass.  If you don't believe me, stop everything you're doing right now and run to the nearest Target to try one out.  You will not regret it.  

My farewell words for today are: If you like your mail carrier, turn your sprinkler on.  If you REALLY like your mail carrier, leave a cold bottle of water in your mailbox for them.  In case you haven't noticed, it is HOT outside.  

When it rains, it pours. At least on Thursdays.

Last Thursday, it rained.  No, not rained...it poured.  But it was okay at first because I was prepared.  For the duration of the twenty-minute morning downpour, I had put on rubber shoe coverings, a raincoat and a baseball cap.  I ran from porch to porch when the rain died briefly so that I felt like I was still working.  At the end of it, I was drenched from my waist to my ankles, but nothing I couldn't live with.  

Fast-forward to early afternoon.  I'd just finished eating lunch and I was sitting in my truck and shivering.  I was cold (in August!).  The sun came out and I drew in a deep breath and decided right then and there that the afternoon was going to be much better than the morning.  After stripping myself of my rain gear (because the sun was now out, remember?) I hopped out of my truck, grabbed my load of mail and took off, determined to walk fast enough to warm up.  And I did just that.  When I was as far away from my mail truck as possible and my attitude was really taking a turn for the best, I saw three large raindrops fall onto the pavement in front of me.  And in the very next second, it was pouring again and the wind was blowing.  

I ran to the nearest house but there was no covered porch.  In fact, there were no covered porches on the entire block.  There was, however, a small overhang above the front door and I quickly learned that if I butted myself up against the door, very little rain was reaching me.  For the next minute, I watched the streets begin to flood and rain started hitting me sideways from the wind.  Just as I was feeling thankful that there were no cars in the driveway, a loud knock startled me from behind.  I turned around to see a man holding both hands to his chest and mouthing, "You. Scared. Me!"  He cracked the door open and I apologized profusely and handed him his mail.  I asked if it would be okay if I just stayed there until the rain died down and he said that would be fine.  He wished me good luck and shut the door.  Thirty seconds later, another knock.  I turned around and he cracked the door open, this time to say, "Just checked the radar and looks like this should pass quickly.  Hang in there!"  He gave me a thumbs-up before shutting the door again.  This is when I looked across the street and noticed a man standing in his open garage and staring at me.  He had both hands on his hips and when he noticed me noticing him, he slowly extended his left arm to press the button which shut the garage door.  He replaced his left hand onto his hip and watched me as the door shut right in front of him.  So there I stood, windy rain whipping me in the face and I was laughing hysterically at just how strange the world is (or mostly, the people), and I decided it screw it and I just went walking in the rain. And that was that.  It took two full days before my shoes dried completely.

And yesterday:  In the neighborhood where everybody calls me sweetie and hon, I was happily eating the heads off of my gummy bears on my lunch break, not a worry in the world, when I scanned the neighborhood.  This has become habit.  I do it everywhere.  We were trained to "look ahead".  We look for unleashed dogs, construction work being done; pretty much anything that might slow us down or get in our way.  So I do this everywhere now.  Even on my lunch break.  And in this lunchtime scan, I noticed a woman sitting on her front porch, just staring at me.  Except not staring, glaring.  I had no idea why.  I looked behind me, thinking maybe she was just looking at something else and I was mistaken, but all I could see was an empty street and a lonely tree.  I moved my head back and forth and her eyes were following me.  And that look, it was terrible.  I'm not foolish enough to drive into a neighborhood, park my truck and eat lunch before delivering the mail.  That would just be selfish.  So she already had her mail and I even remembered exactly what I delivered: no bills and nothing with a name that wasn't familiar.  I knew it was right.  So why was she staring at me like this?  And then I decided that I knew how to fix this problem.  I buckled my seat belt, started my truck and drove exactly one block north and re-parked to finish my lunch.  I was fine knowing she could glare at the back of my truck, but please don't watch me eat my gummy bears.  That's just getting too personal.  

A week without the interwebs.

Our internet quit working for no reason a whole week ago.  Well, I guess there was a reason and that reason was the modem (the one I just bought).  So today, the new modem came in the mail and we are once again in sync with the world.  But here's what you missed in the life of Bigley over the past eight days:

-At Valentino's on Tuesday nights, kids eat free.  Last Tuesday, we were seated at our table and the waitress asked the children, "And how old are you kids?"  Kyler replied, "Ten."  Mae said, "Eight."  And Kenny, the most excited kid of all, beamed, "Thirty-three!"  He just loves food and tends to lose his composure when surrounded by it.

-For the first and second times in the life of postal me, garage doors opened right next to me to reveal empty garages.  Both times, the doors were opened via remote by people just coming home.  The first woman apologized profusely for scaring me.  But the second, a man, laughed for an inappropriately long time while pointing and saying, "You should have seen your face!!!"  Yeah, very funny.  And in my own defense, I only jumped away so quickly because I was worried that a car would soon be backing out right over me, thus turning me into a pancake.

-I brought donuts home for the kids to surprise them after Kenny told me they'd been good little boogers all day.  Kyler immediately began searching for "his" donut.  I asked what he meant by "his" donut and he said, "You know, the ones I like?  With barbarian cream?"  

-We have a new family member: Lucky the kitten.  The kids saved her from drowning in our yard during last Monday's monsoon.  Actually, they saved five, but mama kitty took all but one back the next night.  So Lucky no longer has to battle the outdoor weather or predators.  Instead, she is ruling the house with her constant meowing and need for food.  She is pretty much exactly like a human baby, except smaller and more hairy.  Mae is constantly complaining of the cat scratching her in the "elbowpit."  And this tiny little kitten has all of the other animals wrapped around her little finger, except for Sadie-kitty, who is still trying to decide the most precise way to swallow a kitten whole.  I'm certain of it.  

And today's heavy mail has completely exhausted me so I am off to happy, dreamy sleep-time now.

The Usual Girl.

There's an old man on the route I've been working since I started my job who, until recently, did not seem to like me at all.  On day one, I happily said, "Hello!" And with a scornful look, he asked, "Where's the usual girl?"  I replied, "Are you calling me unusual?" but he didn't seem to get it so I continued, "...she's on a different route today."  He crossed his arms and said, "Hmm."  

And that's all, for months.  Every day, he'd stand outside and cross his arms and not say a word, no matter how many times I greeted him or commented on the weather.  He'd just stand there and stare, obviously still wondering Where's the usual girl?  Then finally, FINALLY, last week he must have decided that exactly enough time has passed that I am now the usual girl, because when I said my hello to him, I was shocked to hear him reply, "Hi, how are you?"  A greeting and a question all at once was almost too much to swallow so I might have stuttered a bit with my response, but we did embark on a most wonderful conversation.  And now that I'm the usual girl, he talks to me every day.  Every.  Day.  In fact, I can't get him to shut up.  More in fact, I'm kind of wishing that I could go back to being the unusual girl.  This is a good example of being careful what you wish for.  

A Good Remembory.

I'm merrily cleaning the house when I find something that makes me even happier: one of Kyler's memories.  Seriously.  Kyler leaves his memories strewn about the house and it's the one thing that he never gets in trouble for 'not putting away'.  To ease your confusion, I shall explain further.  When something happens that Kyler doesn't want to forget, he jots it down on whatever he can find.  (Kind of like this blog, but way more chaotic and way less organized).  It's not uncommon for me to run across a wrinkled-up hamburger wrapper that says, "Mae farted on November 13th so loud that we both laughed until we cried."  And I'm not the only one who finds these random memories.  I've heard many roars of laughter coming out of Kyler himself when he unexpectedly finds his own memories.  He then reads them very loudly, we all have a good laugh, and he hides said memory away for another day.  I've wanted to do the same thing, just because it's fun and puts everybody in a good mood upon finding one, but it's kind of Kyler's 'thing' and I don't want to intrude on that.  And is it okay (I hope it's okay) that it makes me so incredibly proud that he does this?  Any way that my children can find to spread happiness in this world (or at least in this house) makes me feel like I'm doing something kind of right.  I just love them so much.

Life is an adventure. Unless you do the exact same thing every day.

When I trained for my job, they warned us about multiple ways we could have accidents, all terrifying.  We were shown a whole slew of photos of overturned mail trucks, some with the horrendous word 'fatal' written on them.  We were warned, of course, about dogs and how to spot the telltale signs that a dog is going to bite you.  We were educated on heat exhaustion and heat stroke, as well as how to avoid it.  And last, but not least, we were warned of slip/trip hazards.  Just one twisted ankle means I have no job.  Here are a few things they didn't warn us about:

-Trees can move when you're looking at the mail.  So can parked vehicles.
-Tree branches can take the sunglasses right off of your face, as well as pull your hair and leave you unable to walk any further.
-Little kids will tell their mother on you if you give the mail to their older sibling.
-Crazy old ladies will slam the door in your face, lock it, then look out the window and say, "Have a wonderful day!"
-People will offer you beer.  Nicer people will offer you water.
-You will see your friends drive by and wave at them, then realize it's not them at all.  (Amanda E., I hope you're reading this...I have waved at you at least twenty times, but it's never actually been you)!

And that's all I can think of right now.  This was a great week.  I learned a lot of new area and met a lot of new (some crazy, some not) people.  There are some stories that I don't dare tell, just in case anybody reading this might know who I'm writing about, but just know that this is a very bizarre world that we live in.  Only ten weeks in and I have been speechless more times than I can count.  Every day is a true adventure.  Out of the blue the other day, Kenny said, "You could probably get your job back at Nelnet if you tried."  Um...no thanks.  Every day was exactly the same and that's just no way to live. And now that my feet are no longer aching and the heat doesn't seem to bug me, I sometimes feel like I'm just taking a really long walk and observing the world around me.  Just yesterday, a hilarious man was in his yard, watering his garden.  He saw me and sang in an operatic tone (like seriously, SANG), "You're here!  You're here!  You're finally heeeeeere!!!"  And then he sang about watering his lawn and then he sang about droughts.  I told him, "I'm sure it will rain right after you're done watering."  He turned his hose on me but couldn't reach, as I was already walking into the street.  He yelled after me, "I hope it pours and soaks your ass!"  I laughed, then immediately felt three raindrops and it wasn't so funny anymore.  I looked back at the man, who was looking at the sky and saying, "No waaaay!" but then I never felt anymore raindrops.  Still, funny shit.

And in case you're not my friend on facebook, here is an updated photo of Jakobi's garden:

Everything's growing.  I've never been able to grow anything, but it's all blooming and I am just amazed.  I try not to think about how many days until his due date (twenty-two) and I try not to worry about how I will feel on that actual day, but at the very least, I am thankful that it falls on a Sunday because I just can't imagine toting mail with tears falling down my face.  BUT...when I really think about this, I feel that Jakobi is responsible for all of my recent life changes.  Especially my job and my great outlook on life.  I am no longer 'eating for two', but instead 'living for two'.  If he can't be here with me, then darn it, I'm going to be happy and adventurous enough for the both of us!  There is good in every bad thing that happens.  There really, really is.  You've only got to realize it.  And I'll leave you with that thought.  Happy Weekend!

Loooooooooong day.

One person calls in sick, and we're all in for it.  Everything got flipped sideways and upside down and  I ended up delivering mail to my 9am'ers at 6pm.  It caused mass confusion for people and dogs alike.  Do I try to bite her in the early evening?  And the people must have felt sorry for me because they sure were nice to me.  But work is over now and I have once again heeded the advice of a fellow co-worker: "DON'T DIE...or they'll fire you."  So far, so good.

So today I went to a whole lot of new places.  New people, new mailboxes.  There were at least three houses that I stood outside of, looking dumbfounded, unable to find the mailbox.  One ended up being right behind me and the owner just couldn't help but laugh when I asked where he keeps his mailbox.  At another residence, I was admiring a large dog statue (you have no idea how many statues I've nearly sprayed...they sure do sneak up on me).  This particular statue was HUGE and I kept thinking to myself that I've never, in real life, seen a dog quite THAT big.  Just then, the statue turned its head, looked right into my eyes and in a flash, jumped off of the porch and came charging at me, barking and growling.  I had just enough time to run backwards and he had only so much chain before he was run-choked.  Later in the day, another very large dog actually took the mail right out of my hand and brought it to his person.  I can't even get my husband to do that!!!

And now, since I've already eaten, I shall drink and be merry!

What the best me did today.

I find myself constantly surrounded by this strange air; a feeling; a moment suspended in time.  Like I am everywhere.  No, not everywhere, but every time.  I am six and fifteen and thirty.  I can have a sword fight with fallen tree limbs and attend very important meetings in the same day.  Everybody that I have loved, then lost, is still here, somehow around me and always, always reminding me to think of them and remember everything.  I know it's all of this free time I have to just think and think and think until I get too tired to think, but then I still do it anyway because I don't know how not to.  So I go through my entire life; every memory I've ever had, front to back, then back to front and sometimes just all jumbled up.  I can suddenly remember people that I've forgotten existed.  

I delivered mail to the house where I broke my wrist and learned to roller skate and one day, Jared broke out the window on accident and we laughed forever.  The house is a different color but the sidewalk is the same.  So is the tree.  And the mailbox.  And it makes me really confused how some things can be so unchanged after sixteen whole years while others I wouldn't even recognize.  Did life move on or didn't it?  Are we living in order or will we someday get to go back and visit the times we miss the most?  When I finish writing, I go back and edit, fixing all of my errors and rewording things to my liking.  It's unfortunate to realize I can't do that with my life.  But I CAN be the best me every day.  

And my spotlight moment of today was this:  A woman walks her two dogs every day.  I'd estimate that she is about fifty years old, but she has the mind of a child and talks like one, which is probably what drew me to her in the first place.  I have this strong sense of protection, as if she needs me there even though it's obvious that she is making it through this world just fine without me.  Anyway, today, I met up with her on the sidewalk just after the nine o'clock downpour.  We were both soaking wet and so was her dog.  She looked sad so I tried to cheer her up by wringing out my hair.  She then told me why she only had one dog.  "My black boy dog, him died.  Him was shot up by a needle and I couldn't watch."  She got teary-eyed and so did I.  We talked for a couple of minutes, which is more than I normally allow myself, but I certainly wasn't just going to walk away from a conversation like that on a glum day like today.  I didn't make her laugh hysterically or change her entire life with my sympathy, but I listened to her and that is what made me the best me today.  People just need to be listened to.  So that's that.  My advice: LISTEN.  And if you have something to say but don't want to be an annoying tell-all, just start a blog like me.   

Today, I melted.

Assuming that I deliver the mail in a timely and professional manner each day (I do), I have approximately seven hours to walk around and daydream.  Since the temperature reached ninety-nine degrees today (and in case you didn't know, those fancy-looking trucks we drive around do NOT have air conditioning, so go ahead and add another ten degrees), I mostly daydreamed about ice cubes and swimming pools.  I'm pretty sure I even hallucinated a couple of breezes.  I was offered a cold bottle of water by one lady, just after a man told me to help myself to his sprinkler any time.  I'm not sure if he meant for drinking or running through, but just to be safe, I'll probably do both next time it's this hot out.  And in the midst of this horribly heated day, while sweat was pouring down my face and my back, I just kept thinking I'm so glad I don't work for Nelnet anymore. I always figured that when the weather becomes unbearable, I would have regrets.  I honestly and absolutely do not.  

Just last weekend, I finally found time to clear my old desk off.  It felt so good to throw away my giant book of procedures that I dug it right back out of the trash, announced, "I'M THROWING AWAY THESE PROCEDURES THAT I'LL NEVER EVER EVER HAVE TO USE AGAIN!!!" and promptly threw them away a second time, even though all in attendance (Kyler, Mae and Kenny) were sitting in the kitchen and witnessed the first throw-away.  It felt like when you dive off of the diving board into the swimming pool and plummet deeper than you anticipated, then frantically swim to the top because you are all out of breath and fearing for your life.  Throwing that book of procedures away was like getting that first big breath of life-saving air.  I might be making it sound more dramatic than it really was, but I just want you to understand how relieved I am to be working like a dog instead of a leach.  Dogs are much happier.  Or at least I think so because I've never seen a leach smile.  

And since I've mentioned swimming pools twice, I'll go ahead and say that we did go swimming today.  I met Kenny, kids and nephews at the pool when I got off of work.  I showed up during pool break.  Standing in the hot sun, Kenny immediately began quite the bitch session to me about how hot it is and how he just needs to jump back into the pool.  I said nothing but might have given him a look.  He quickly quit complaining and asked cautiously, "How was your day at work?" and then, "Here, let me put some sunblock on you."  

Fast-forwarding (or as three year old Kyler would say, "Front-forwarding) to the here and now, Mae's cat was laying on the back of the couch, fast asleep.  It fell from the couch-back directly onto my head...and didn't even wake up.  I gently lifted it back onto the couch and it still didn't wake up.  This is exactly how I plan to sleep tonite.  Good night, friends.

Me, meet me. And me, this is me.

Now that it's happened twice, I feel comfortable enough to write about it.  The first time it happened, I was extremely exhausted and thought that I had just found myself mirrored in some sort of paralleled world.  I don't have the right words to explain it...just one of those weird things like deja vu.  But when it happened again and I was fully rested and aware (and there was a witness so any ideas that I might be crazy are unfounded) I realized that it was real. So here it is: there is another me.  At the stoplight on 70th and Pioneers Boulevard on a Sunday afternoon, I was turning left and so was I.  Seriously, my Jeep was facing a Jeep from the opposite direction and there I was, face to face with somebody who looked exactly like me and drives the same vehicle.  The first time also happened at a stoplight, but I was right next to me that time.  This time, Kenny was with me.  As I stared myself in the eyes in complete shock, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Kenny was looking from me to her and back again.  I quietly asked him, so as not to shake the moment up too much, "Is that me?"  Kenny answered back with a near yell, "OH MY GOD SHE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE YOU!!!!"  He then apologized and said, "I know that people don't like to hear that somebody looks like them."  It's usually true.  Every time I've ever said that somebody looks like somebody else, they take it as a complete insult, like I am the only me, you asshole.  But this was so completely different.  Maybe because I noticed it first.  Or maybe because I wanted to hang out with this girl that looked just like me.  I found that I wanted to know more about her.  How much of me is she?  Is she allergic to Ibuprofen?  Does she like to play Twister when she gets drunk? And where did she get those dangling earrings from, because I used to have some almost exactly like them but I lost one and I miss them.  And then I really started wondering...how many times have other people thought she was me?  Because honestly, people are always telling me that they waved at me and I didn't wave back, or maybe they even honked their horn and jumped up and down.  I've always just written it off as senility because if you've ever met my mother, well, let's just say that the spacey apple doesn't fall far from the dazed tree.  But now I'm thinking that all of those people that have ever waved or honked at me were really just waving or honking at Other Me.  And Other Me probably thinks that you people are all just crazy, constantly causing an uproar and calling her the wrong name.  Poor other me.  Now I feel bad for her.  Or me.  Or...here goes this confusing paralleled world thing again.

Horse-deers.

Yesterday morning, both kids were at sleepovers.  I was moping through the house at six o'clock in the morning, not yet ready for the day and still wishing I was in bed.  The dogs decided to wake me right up by both running to the front window and letting out a series of growls, barks and howls.  I, too, ran to the front window and saw four deer.  Very, very large deer.  But then I rubbed my eyes awake and realized they were not deer, but instead horses.  The neighbor's horses.  They were headed for the back yard so I turned toward the back door.  When I slid the door open, I could hear somebody talking.  There is an eight-foot fence that separates our neighbor's yard from ours and after listening for a few seconds, I could tell that my neighbor was talking on the phone.  And here is the very first thing I eavesdropped on:  "They're just gone!  I don't have any idea where they're at!  FOUR!  FOUR horses have just vanished!!"  And from where I stood, hearing what he was saying and seeing the four horses standing directly on the other side of the fence, calmly grazing and having no idea they might be doing anything wrong, I had to take a long moment to laugh before I woke Kenny up.  After explaining the situation and opening the back door for Kenny to listen to the neighbor, who continued freaking out over his lost horses, Kenny also had a great laugh.  Then, he pulled on his shoes and chased the horses home.  

Work was good, but short.  Low mail volume = I go home early.  The one dog that I have sprayed tried fooling me by getting a haircut but here's something I learned last week:  Most (most) little dogs get seriously terrified if I simply bark back at them.  It works best if I bark like them and even better if I flail my arms.  I accidentally did this without realizing one dog's owner was sitting on his front porch, but to my relief, he thought it was hilarious when his dog tried running away from me and tripped over his own leash.  

Tomorrow is a no-work day and I just can't wait to take the kids to the fireworks stand and then spend the day blowing things up and eating grilled food.  Yay for independence!!!

Funyuns and suntans.

I passed by a small group of strangers and overheard a woman say, "Hey, that's the girl that lost the little guy and planted the garden for him."  Another woman chimed in, "Oh yeah!  I read her blog!" How strange to know that people I've never met have read my most personal thoughts and feelings, but pretty darn cool, too.  And as far as my thoughts on Jakobi go, I still miss him every single moment of every single day.  The garden is growing in leaps and bounds, though unfortunately that also means the weeds and I have had exactly no time to work on it lately.  I'm hoping that in the next week, I can get out there and pull weeds and take an updated photo.  Kenny found a garden decoration of a cow that jumps over a moon when the wind blows, but it seemed way too sad for me; a nursery rhyme I will never get to recite to my son, so instead I opted for the moon that rises over the sun.  Seems more fitting anyway.  

Work is wonderful.  I have had a most spectacular week.  I'd like to give you a snapshot from my mind.  I wish I could carry a camera with me at all times to show you some of the things that I get to see, but I suppose a mail carrier snapping photos of random people might cause quite an uproar with the post office, so you'll have to settle for my detailed description instead.  Here goes.  Yesterday morning, I was glumly walking through the rain and carrying my soggy stack of mail.  I looked toward the street and saw the most amazing sight.  An elderly man was riding his bike right down the middle of the street (don't worry, it's not a busy street at all).  He had his right arm extended and his face toward the sky, eyes closed, just taking in the rain with a huge smile on his face.  I can only speculate on what might have been going through his mind and I'll leave that part to your own imagination.  After taking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes, looked directly at me and said, "It's a BEAUTIFUL morning!"  And suddenly, it was.  It's awe-inspiring when a single person can, in one moment, make you step back and take in the 'little things' in life.  There is so much to be thankful for.  

In our home life, our house is a mess and our children are happy, so all is well.  Kenny has started buying the groceries (another duty I am glad to be relieved of), which means that we have enough Funyuns and Lucky Charms to last a lifetime.  He continues to "cook" (grill) nearly every day and he has discovered the joy of having a pool pass, which can be readily seen at any given moment by the tan lines he is quickly accumulating.  If you know Kenny at all, you know how big this is.  Typical Kenny can blind you with his ghost-white legs.  You'd almost not even recognize him now.  So far, every time he's brought the kids to the pool, he's said, "One hour, MAYBE two."  And then five or six hours later, they finally return home completely exhausted.  

Off to another wonderful day of work I go!  (Seriously, no sarcasm, I still love my job so far...).  Here's wishing everybody happiness and, well, more happiness.

Blur.

Life is becoming a blur and I'm really hoping it's just because it's summer.  Each day blends right into the next and when I think it ought to be Wednesday, I learn that it's Friday.  Except today actually is Wednesday, but it feels more like a Monday minus the bad.  

Kenny and I have decided to take our relationship to the next level.  After nearly eleven years of marriage, you might be wondering what 'the next level' exactly means so I'll tell you: We are officially shopping for an RV.  Not a new RV, just something to get us to the lake a few miles away.  I do not like tent-camping.  It is uncomfortable and unnecessary.  We have taken the kids camping maybe a total of three or four times in their lives just because of this, but now, NOW we will spend every weekend at the lake.  Or when we purchase an RV we will.  Thanks to the pure wonderfulness that is craigslist, we have maybe found a winner already, but I will definitely keep you updated on it.  Or maybe you'll just never hear from me again and then you can just assume we've found one.    

And now I'm off to another work-filled day.  What I know for sure is that Kyler is ten as of yesterday and Kenny is taking the kiddos swimming today, so everybody here is happy and good and just a little bit blurry.

The week of five.

Somewhere in between work and baseball and softball and swimming, I have found a very short amount of time to write.  FINALLY.  As it turns out, Week Five on the job is the particular week I've been eagerly anticipating.  It's the week that everything turns good.  My body has caught up with my job and I no longer fall asleep on the couch at seven o'clock each evening, nor do I spend ample time popping foot-blisters and scaring the kids with the oozing gush of pus that comes out of them.  Though we're only two days into this week, here is a list of all of the great things that have happened, in no specific order:

An elderly man tracked me down in his truck, blocks away from his house yesterday to ask if I deliver mail to his address.  "Yes."  (I was already wondering what horrible mistake I had made to make him fuss over finding me).  He asked if I delivered mail to his house on Saturday.  "Yes."  He asked if my initials are AB.  "Yes?"  He finally asked, "Did you pay the postage due on my mail for me?"  "Oh, (sigh of relief) yes, I did." He then gave me a very long and heartfelt thank you, barely able to believe how kind it was of me to do such a thing, and then he promptly paid me back my twenty cents.  This is at least the sixth person I have paid 'postage due' for, but the first to pay me back.  And obviously, twenty cents is no big deal, but proof that common courtesy really does exist is something to write about, so I will.  Or...did.  Just now.

After sitting in the shop for a whole week and having the wrong part ordered three times, the car is fixed and purring like a kitten.  Actually, more like a kitten with bronchitis, but that's just how our car sounds when it's running correctly.  To celebrate, Kyler and I drove to town and bought a family pool pass.  And that's probably why there is rain in the forecast for the rest of the week.  Sorry.

My manager pulled me aside at the end of my workday today and using wild hand gestures, told me how wonderful of a job I have been doing.  This went on for quite some time before he pulled the Postmaster into the conversation and asked her to chime in on how great I'm doing.  She also used wild hand gestures and gave me many great compliments, then asked permission to clone me.  I'm not sure, but I think they just might keep me.  I kind of felt like doing one of those leaping ankle-claps, but breaking or spraining a bone that is vital to keeping my job is probably not an idea I should even have been dancing with.  Instead, I high-fived my left hand with my right hand and drank a soda.

And finally, the little girl who likes to call me 'Mr. Mailwoman' was so thrilled to see me today (I haven't seen her in at least a week).  When she greeted me in the usual way, her dad rolled his eyes and said, "Will you PLEASE tell her your name so she quits calling you that?!"  So I'm no longer Mr. Mailwoman, I'm now "Manna."  

Kyler got his baby back, baby back, baby back...

As expected, this week is going so much better.  Thanks to the power of facebook, we picked Teeyl up last night about six miles away from home.  She is slightly thinner, but still has the same bubbly personality (and by bubbly, I mean she jumped up and licked me in the face mid-air as soon as she saw me).  Kyler is quite possibly the happiest boy in the county now.  A boy needs his dog.

Work is wonderful...I say as the thunder cracks and rain pours down.  At least, so far this week, work has been wonderful.  I have only one very persistent blister left on my toe and I am no longer sore at the end of the day, even though they have been giving me more and more work with each new day.  I love working. I just do.  After thirteen years of sitting on my butt, this is exactly what I need.  My days fly by and then I get to come home to my lovely little family.  Nearly every day, Kenny has the grill fired up.  Monday was burgers, yesterday was fish.  This is how Kenny cooks and I have absolutely no problem with it.  

And now I must bid you farewell as I head off to another great work day.  Who will I meet?  How many dogs will try to bite me?  How many tree limbs will jump out and catch my hair, leaving me momentarily stranded and confused?  Yeah, that happened last week. 

Another day, another dog.

Still no Teeyl, but the search continues.  I just keep remembering the cat we had when I was a small child.  We moved away and couldn't find the cat so we left it behind.  Years later, it showed up at our new house.  I've always wondered about the adventures that 'Firecracker' endured in that time.  I'm hoping Teeyl is on a great adventure right now.  

Tomorrow will shut out week two on the job and today I caught myself constantly hiking up my pants.  I asked my boss if they didn't give us a uniform allowance for ninety days because everybody loses so much weight in that time and she laughed and said, "I've never thought about that...makes sense."  Sure does.  The big thing that happened at work today is that I sprayed my first dog.  It's the same dog that has been after me since day one.  I made it all the way to the mailbox and I swear to you, the dog jumped out of the bushes at me, as if it was just waiting for me.  Typically, it tries to attack me when I'm just stepping onto the property and I have learned that if I just stay in the street, it won't leave its yard.  But since I was fully in the yard already, I had no choice.  It was coming at me quickly, growling and showing its teeth as it did and I sprayed at it once, which only slowed it down.  It came at me with a vengeance the second time so I sprayed it more and it stopped.  Just then, I heard a very loud bark from behind me so I turned around and there was a very large dog.  I'd never seen this dog before so I was unsure of how to react, but it barked and jumped around in almost the exact same way as Teeyl does when she's excited to see somebody so I just walked away and it left me alone.  I was glad I didn't have to spray the big dog, too, and of course I feel guilty for spraying the little one.  I'm just hoping that tomorrow, I won't be forced into this situation again.  What really irks me is that the owners of this dog will let it out when they see me coming up their sidewalk and once, the male owner just stood on the porch and watched his dog trying to attack me and did nothing about it.  I told him, "Thanks!" and he just stared at me blankly.  It's owners like this that ruin it for all others.  I am very thankful for people like the man I met today who had left his dog tied out right in front of the mailbox.  Of course, I planned to just skip this house, but instead, he came outside and introduced me to his dog, thus making all future visits to his mailbox less stressful for both me and the dog.  See, we are friends now.  'Annie' no longer feels threatened by me and vice versa.  This is a good thing to remember if you have a dog and a mail carrier.  

Kenny continues to keep the house clean and orderly and I can't think of a single thing that needs repaired as he is always home, keeping up with everything.  I've decided that society has it all wrong.  All of these years, the term 'housewife' should really have been 'househusband'.  Or maybe it only works in our relationship, but I am loving coming home after a hard day's work to a fully cooked meal and a cold beer.  And in writing this, I just realized that I might be the real-life version of Homer Simpson, just with more hair and less belly.  And with that thought, I think I'll go crack open another cold one and stick crayons up my nose.

Week Two...Boo.

Week two is fully upon me and this is rough stuff.  My everything is sore and I have exactly six blisters scattered across my toes, but alas, my new shoes arrived in the mail today and I just can't wait to try them out.  I still think this is the best job ever, just not the best week in the best job ever.  I have, however, managed to make friends with most of the dogs that wanted only to kill me last week.  And I just can't say enough about my co-workers.  I really didn't know that so many wonderful people could be contained in one place.  Each and every one of them brings something great to the table and they've not only answered every single question I've asked of them, but they seem happy to help me and go out of their way to do so.  I've never felt so welcomed to a new job and it makes all of my aches and pains seem a little less.

On the home front:  We are missing a dog.  The kids went out to feed the dogs two days ago and didn't shut the gate tight.  The dogs escaped and we weren't too worried because this happens often.  But then they didn't come home.  Artie showed up the next morning, looking worn out and worried, but no Teeyl.  We've searched high and low and called humane societies in all surrounding areas but no Teeyl.  I don't know where else to look, but I am fully open to suggestions.  Kyler randomly steps out the back door, calls for his dog, then comes back inside all teary-eyed and unable to speak.  

I think this is all I have to report.  I'm too tired to think and as you can plainly see, this is not the best week we've ever had (nor the worst, but I truly prefer 'best weeks').  I'm sure that next week will be better.

Work and play and sleep and work and play and sleep.

Today was my fourth day on the job and I must say, this job seems as if it was made for me.  Or at least, made for future me...the me who doesn't have blistered toes or sore legs.  I suppose my point of view might drastically change in the next few weeks but so far, so wonderfully good.  

I did an entire route all by myself today.  There were small frustrations along the way; backtracking and dogs that want to eat me.  But in the early afternoon, after my belly was filled with lunch and I was at the beginning of my second wind, I thought that this just might be the best job in the whole world.  Walking around, alone with my thoughts, sun shining on my face and random residents coming outside just to chat with me.  Nobody is breathing down my neck. There are no weekly meetings or daily emails about procedural changes.  I simply deliver the mail and if I can do that in a timely manner without complaining, I'm good.  And I'm exactly that right now: GOOD.  I'm doing a service that people mostly love.  If you could see the residents at the retirement home gather around me when I show up, hope and happiness in their eyes, you might just reconsider your own job.  

Kenny cleaned the whole house today and had supper ready when I returned home.  He is currently taking a nap.  So are both of the kids.  I guess the last day of school was just too much for all of them to handle, but I am not complaining as Mae's softball game will run pretty late and I do not like sitting with grumpy kids (Kenny included).  I simply can't believe that I am now the mother of a fifth grader and a fourth grader. The time, it is a-flyin'.  


And besides that, I don't have anything new to report.  Aside from work, I have been sleeping ten or more hours each night.  This is the best sleep I've ever had.  Walking all day long makes a body tired.  And as for the hours in between work and sleep...the kids pretty much have it covered with their baseball/softball games/practices.  All in all, life is great right now and it just better stay that way.  

A bag of wheat.

The weekend has just flown on by again.  Friday's training was great.  I actually loved it.  When it was time for our practice drive, I cruised right on through it without error.  My instructor said, "Well, we're done twenty minutes early.  That's never happened to me.  I've never had anybody jump in and drive the speed limit like they own the truck."  After inquiring to make sure, I learned that this was a compliment.  Go me!

It is so, so, SO good to be home!  I pulled into the driveway just as Kenny was finishing mowing the lawn.  The house was fairly clean and intact and both kids survived the week without me (well, mostly without me).  

Last night, we were all sitting around on the couches, eating popcorn and watching 'Cops'.  In this episode, as in every episode, a man was pulled over and the policemen pulled a bag of drugs out and threw it onto the hood of the car.  I couldn't tell exactly what it was, so I inquired aloud, "What's that?"  This inquiry was really directed toward Kenny, but Mae jumped in to answer, "It's probably a bag of wheat, Mom.  That's what they usually find."  You've just gotta love the innocence of a child!!

Kenny and Kyler have already been pacing around the windows and doors, getting excited about the upcoming storms.  I shall now join in on the storm-watching fun.

All done.

Alas, training is completed.  As long as I don't wreck the LLV into anything tomorrow, I hope to return home with a license to drive and a will to get started working extremely hard.  I laughed too loud today when yet another instructor walked into our classroom, took a deep breath and said, "Your lives are about to SUCK."  So yesterday's blog post still stands.  

They have told us some things over and over.  Safety is our number one priority.  Say that to yourself one-thousand times and that's at least how many times I've heard it over the last four days.  Other interesting facts: the average postal employee is 51 years old.  Nearly half of our class was around that age.  Can you imagine starting a new career in your fifties?  Good for them!  These were the people that I found had the most personality.  Another fact:  the average city carrier loses thirty pounds in the first two months.  Despite all of the running and walking I've been doing, I seem only to be gaining weight, so I am quite okay with this statistic.  Also today, I joined a union.  They do good things and I like good things so it just seemed fitting.  And I got a free hat, so that's cool, too.  

I realized on my drive to training this morning that the interstate has become increasingly more simple for me to navigate.  I didn't cry or scream and when I parked at the post office, I didn't have to peel my own hands from the steering wheel.  I was very proud of myself, thinking how I'd conquered a huge, lifelong fear of mine.  On the drive back to the hotel, there seemed to be double the usual traffic and I passed two accidents, thus raising my heart rate extremely high.  I screamed in my brain at least three times.  I would have screamed out of my mouth but I was too busy biting through my bottom lip.  Hindsight tells me that my drive this morning was either luck or fantasy.  I am still absolutely terrified.  

Tomorrow is my last day here and I just can't wait to get home!  I'm hoping for good weather while I learn to drive a truck that is only six years newer than me.  I also hope that I have a patient instructor and that my nerves play no role in my driving.  And mostly, I hope we go someplace good to eat at noon because I have just about had it with vending machine lunches.  

Days 2 and 3

As far as time in the classroom goes, days two and three have equaled out to this: information overload.  There is so much more to learn than I expected.  I am retaining as much as humanly possible, but every trainer that we have had thus far has told us, all in their own separate ways, that our lives for the next couple of months are going to suck worse than they ever have.  The good news is that my nerves have really not played much of a role in this week, nor will they in the upcoming weeks, because there is just far too much to do to waste time being nervous.  Go, go, GO.  Then go some more.  Then some more.  Then some...well, you get it.

And outside of the classroom, life is great.  Kenny and the kids showed up around 6pm last night.  When I saw the Jeep pulling into the parking lot, I ran outside to greet my family and Mae jumped out yelling, "MOM!"  We hugged, and as we pulled away, she grabbed both of my shoulders and asked, "Guess WHAT?!"  I asked, "What?"  and she replied, "Dad actually WASHED the dishes.  All by himself."  I am very happy (and surprised) at how Kenny is just easing right into this new role of Mr. Mom.

I then helped my children unload every single blanket, pillow and stuffed animal that they own, then we headed off to The Amazing Pizza Machine.  None of us had ever been there and all of us had a blast.  Kyler and Mae each got a blue ribbon for winning separate go-cart races.  On the ride home, both kids exclaimed, "This is the best day EVER!"  I hardly believe that, but I'm glad they had a good time.  Making the switch from all-the-time Mom to all-the-time Dad can't be easy on them.

We stayed up way too late and woke up way too early (yet still too late).  After enjoying a hearty breakfast in the lobby, I had to say good-bye to them and I stood outside of my room waving a sad hand in the air, so unhappy to see them go.  And then I realized that they weren't the only ones running late and was actually thankful that I had to kick myself into high gear to make it to training on time, as it left me with no time to be sad.  

And now, after a long day of mental warfare, I find myself with a cold six-pack and leftover Chinese food.  I figure this is the last week I will have in a very long time to drink, eat and be lazy so I'm gonna do it to the fullest extent.  At least for tonite.  

Day one: DONE.

I survived Day 1: Orientation, though not without a pounding headache.  My brain does not do boring well. Today, I am fully equipped with a full bottle of Tylenol and I have downed a small pot of coffee.  I will say that I slept better last night than I ever have in a hotel room.  The giant margarita that Megs bought me may have had something to do with it, but no matter the reason, I feel quite alert today.  

The news from Mae's softball game:  she hit her very first home run!!  I don't even feel sorry for myself for missing it because I am just so stinkin' happy for her!  Last year, she got nervous at each game and as far as I remember, she never hit the ball during a game except for once and it was a foul.  So this is big.  I mean BIG.  Kenny said the whole team was cheering for her.  One of her coaches (the one who is also her bus driver) said he was going to announce her home run to the whole bus in the morning.  Once again, I am so, so proud.  

My happy little family is coming to visit me today and I just can't wait to hug them.  I have fully realized that I'm just not me without them and I can't even believe how much I miss them.  Over margaritas, Meghan told me that it's just so strange to see me in the 'big city' all by myself.  She said she can't remember me ever being anywhere without Kenny and she's exactly right.  Where I go, he goes and vice versa.  And that's exactly how we like it.  During our orientation class yesterday, many of the women were talking about how their husbands are truck drivers who are gone all week and that's why their marriages work so well.  I laughed along with them at the thought, but really, I'd be in pretty sad shape without Kenny being around at almost all times.  And now I'm wondering if he's missing me so much, too, or if he's invited all of his friends over for a party because "Mom's out of town for the week!"  Ha.  Mae would totally tell on him.

And off I go for Day 2.  Today is Defensive Driving.  We were fully warned that on Friday, assuming they find enough instructors for our large class, we will be one-on-one with a driving instructor for six straight hours of driving in Omaha.  I might bring two bottles of Tylenol that day.  

It's Mama's Day.

Mother's Day seems bittersweet this year, as I go visit baby boy's garden and wish one more time that he was still in my belly where he should be.  But I'm still doing the best that I can do.  

I am quite nervous to start my training tomorrow.  I haven't started a new job in so many years that I'm certain by morning, my tongue will be in my throat and my hands will be shaky.  I can already tell that I will like my new boss as she told me which hotel to stay at saying, "The room's huge and they serve wine at night with dinner."  Hells.  Yes.  While nervous, I am ready, I am ready and I AM READY.  In fact, I want it to be tomorrow right now just so I could be "in it" instead of "in front of it", you know?  I'm only nervous until I start.  And my new really expensive shoes were in a box on my front porch yesterday when I returned home.  I assumed that since they are post office-approved and costed over one hundred dollars, they would be the most comfortable shoes I've ever purchased.  Wrong.  I have put in seven miles in the last twenty-four hours while wearing them, just trying to break them in.  They are also not fashionable at ALL.  So I am going to look super awesome at the hotel gym trying to break in my shoes on the treadmill.  Yessss.

Instead of telling the weekend in order, I'm telling it backwards and I'm not sure why.  Yesterday morning, Kyler had a baseball game that we barely made it to on time due to road construction (okay, mostly due to we couldn't find his baseball cap and we had to stop for gas, but let's blame it on the construction just for fun).  I realized, whilst sitting on the bleachers under a heavy blanket and cuddling Mae for warmth, that this game is actually fun to watch now.  All of those boring years of t-ball and beginning baseball are finally paying off.  Kyler is no longer the kid in the outfield who is facing the wrong way, nor is he the kid that accidentally gets the ball and then stands there looking confused because he has no idea where to throw it.  He is now the kid that hit the home run, as well as the kid that gets to be pitcher and catcher (but not at the same time; he's not THAT good).  I am just so proud of him.  And Mae starts softball this week, but sadly, due to training, I will miss her very first game and possibly her second game.  I suppose this is what happens when you decide to be the family's main "bread maker", but no regrets here because even though I will miss some games, it means that Kenny will finally get to see some games.  Role reversal might take some getting used to, but I'm pretty sure it will work out well for us.

And that is it and that is all.  Happy Mother's Day to every mother out there.  Poopy diapers don't change themselves, dishes don't wash themselves, lost shoes don't find themselves and alarm clocks never wake a sleeping child in the same terrifying manner as a Mom who realizes that she has exactly five minutes to get everybody in the house fed, dressed, packed up and out the door.  

Why I Quit My Job.

Because it just feels right, that's why.  And if you want more explanation than that, here it is:  this was not a decision I took lightly.  I have had my job for nearly thirteen years, which is almost as long as I've had my Kenny and I certainly wouldn't trade him in for anything.  But there's quite a difference between the two:  I love my Kenny.  My job...not so much.  So why did I keep it for thirteen long years?  While the work was merely bearable at best, I was able to be home with my babies when they were babies and I was never denied a single day off (except for my honeymoon, which I got written up for taking...but you know, no important days off [yes, I made a joke]).  Time with my babies was more important than any amount of money in the world and was well worth all of the work that I didn't really like doing.

But then we lost Jakobi.  And as often happens with losing somebody so close to you, I began to reassess my entire life.  Something had to change and for two straight weeks, I was absolutely stumped as to what that something was. 

One night, lying in bed and waiting for sleep to take over, Kenny confessed to me that he already has regrets about not spending enough time with the kids.  He has always worked second or third shift while I was at home taking care of the kids, meaning that for many years, he saw them only on weekends and for a few minutes in the mornings before they headed off to school.  I put this information all into my brain and 'slept on it.'

The very next day, it hit me.  A new job is my something that needs to change.  Over a year ago, my boss told me that I have hit my "pay ceiling", which means that I will never get another raise ever.  In other words: I have no further goals to conquer if I stay where I'm at.  And I like goals.  I need goals. 

In order to help me decide what my new job should be (because it was decided that morning that I WOULD be getting a new job), I jumped onto my treadmill for a run.  I always think better when I'm running.  And in running, I decided that somebody should just pay me to run because that's somehow become  my most favorite thing to do.  But since jumping around in a gym to 80's music is not really my style, I knew that this wasn't really possible so I decided on the next best thing...and from there, everything fell into place in such a perfect way that I just know Jakobi somehow had a hand in it.  Or at least he gave me the motivation needed to jump through so many hoops in such a short amount of time (this is where all of those super secret missions come into play).

I begin training for the Post Office on Monday.  They will be paying me to walk around and deliver mail.  I know this isn't everybody's idea of a perfect job, but it's MY idea of a perfect job.  And I have no fantasies that this will be easy.  To hopefully ease the transition of sitting at a desk for 10 hours each day to walking all day long, I have been burning 900+ calories on my treadmill every single day.  And Kenny?  Well, Kenny will be taking the entire summer off to spend it with the kids and hopefully learn how to cook and clean.  (ha!)  He will then decide what his next career move will be.  Perhaps he will join me at the Post Office.  I hope you're as happy for us as we are.  I just somehow know that this is exactly what we need right now.

Thirtysomething.

I woke up to the alarm clock this morning and didn't want to get out of bed.  Kenny rolled over and said, "Happy birthday, babe."  Oh, YEAH, it's my birthday!!  Upon realizing this, I somersaulted out of bed and did a dance.  I went immediately to my desk and turned on my computer, but something wasn't right.  It was moving veeerrrryyyy slooooowwwlllly.  I picked up the phone, hit the 'Talk' button and...no dial tone.  No internet + no phone = no work (aka Best Birthday Ever).  As you have probably figured out, my internet is working now, but my phone is still not and it's late enough in the day that I'm just going to not worry about work until tomorrow.  I have so far spent my day running, reading a book and buying groceries.  And I have big plans to clean out the Jeep and then make tacos for supper.  

Birthdays used to seem so disappointing to me.  They should last longer and I should see everybody that I know in the whole world and eat all of the cupcakes and drink all of the margaritas and get everything that I want without having to say anything.  Except that's not how they ever work out and they never have.  Lowering my birthday standards has increased my birthday happiness at least tenfold.  Or even more.  Ifinityfold.

My sister texted me this morning and spoke of how we are getting old.  I replied with, "We are wiser."  She said she doesn't feel that way sometimes, but I most honestly do.  More forgetful, perhaps, and much more oblivious to nearly everything, but wiser nonetheless.  Experienced at life, that's what we are.


As another year has flown by, though I am feeling ever so wise, I really have nothing profound to say today.  I am content with this life.  I hope you are, too.  It's a good way to be.  Everything seems perfectly peaceful.  And don't even say anything to me about 'the calm before the storm' because we have endured enough 'storms' this year to last at least the next ten.  This is simply the contentment that comes when you accept that life is what is and if you don't love and hug and dance in the moment, you are simply taking a dump on your own self.

The Aftermath.

The past two days have been nothing short of wonderful.  I love a full house and that's what I got.  It's a mystery to me how I so often find myself surrounded by amazing people.  These aren't the kind of people you would pass on the street and think nothing of...they even look amazing.  If you did happen to pass by them, you would wish you were friends with them (or at least you should wish you were friends with them).  And I am once again reminded of how extremely lucky I am.  Unfortunately, I did not do well on camera-duty, but here is a snapshot of a few of these amazing people from Saturday afternoon:

 

I love you, love you, love you. 

 

Adrienne loved the present that I made her...it was a book, written and illustrated by yours truly, about our friendship.  I had way too much fun making it and she had way too much fun reading it.  Goal accomplished.

 

After much laughter and shenanigans, we ended the night around the fire pit.  Meghan and Sara so brilliantly roasted first pizza rolls and then bacon over the open fire and mesmerized us all.  And as far as I know, nobody is deathly ill from it. 

 

 

The best thing about falling asleep in a house filled with people is that many of those people are still there in the morning.  As I prepared to clean up after the party, everybody else chipped in and the house was clean in a very short time.  The young'ns were awesome enough to cook breakfast (eggs and...of course, leftover pizza rolls and bacon) for everybody and then my friends all drove away, leaving me sad to see them go but happily fulfilled that they were here.

 

 

After everybody left, Kenny and I decided to head to Lincoln to visit his sister.  Kyler took the opportunity to tell us that he also had plans in Lincoln.  Here's the back story: two weeks ago, Kyler's beloved Nintendo DS quit working.  He kindly asked me if I would sell all of his games on the internet.  I did.  His profit:  $125.  He decided that his next big purchase would be an ipod touch, but when we were next at the store, he was sad to find that they retail for $198.  I told him that perhaps he could buy one used on craigslist, which sent him on a nine-day search.  Yesterday morning, he'd finally found the perfect deal and the guy selling the ipod wanted to meet in Lincoln, merely blocks from our destination. 

 

 

As we got into Lincoln and made it to the grocery store parking lot that had been designated as our meeting spot, Mae made it fully aware that if she didn't find a bathroom in the very near future, we would all be sorry.  I grabbed her hand and we headed into the store.  When we returned to the car, I could see some major trauma evident in Kyler's eyes.  I feared that the guy had been a no-show but then I noticed the ipod in Kyler's hand.  I hopped into the car and asked what was wrong.  Kenny answered for Kyler, saying, "Well, the guy gave us fair warning that he didn't know how to reset it..." and so I held out my hand and Kyler handed me the ipod.  The wallpaper on it said, "Gangsta' Thug" and as I navigated through the downloaded apps, songs, etc. I saw the term "bitches and hoes" enough times to know that this ipod would definitely need reset.  It took me about two minutes to get it back to the factory settings and then I handed it to Kyler and said, "There ya' go; clean slate."  He looked very much relieved and now excited about his purchase.  

After a lovely sister-visit, we returned home around eight o'clock.  I changed right into my jammies, climbed into bed and started reading my book.  And the next thing I remember is waking up this morning.  Kenny said he put my book on my dresser when he came in to bed.  I looked at the page he had bookmarked for me and found that I had read two entire pages before falling asleep.  I guess I must have been tired!