Come what may. . .and LOVE it

There is a blog are frequently stalk, er, I mean check. The blog? The r house (if you read our 'Journey' blog, you've seen me mention Mrs. R before AND a link to her blog). Mrs. R is a HUGE adoption advocate. Her blog alone has changed my perception of open adoption. She's has me thinking of ways to find our birth mother instead of waiting for her to find us. In other words, Mrs. R is AMAZING!


The r house is known for giveaways and I never enter or make mention of them until now. The new giveaway is called: "Come what may and love it." Mrs. R has had a rough last year with her contested adoption (something that truly terrifies me) and her family theme was: Come what may. It's taken a while for me to come into this: "Come what may" attitude. Quitting my job. Adjusting to the new life of quitting my job. Trying to navigate through this adoption process. A lot of this has been heavy burden. I've turned to Nic, who can always bring me back to center (I'm sooooooo grateful for that-I'm prone to freak outs). I've tearfully turned to the Lord. I'm waiting for that twist of fate. For things to fall into place.


I know all things are meant to make us stronger and are for our benefit. But sometimes, it's hard. REALLY hard. I'll be honest, I bounce back and forth between "Come what may" and "I'm really hating this right now." Haha. But I know that the Lord is always by my side and that by and through my faith, I will be able to face anything. Come what may.

In Memory of Max

This is a picture of my younger brother and our boxer Max when we first brought him home. Ricky spent a lot of sleepless nights with Max as he was getting used to his new home. We all loved Max.

Max was a protector. My date for prom snuck into the back yard to ask me and Max started barking up a storm. Somehow (and luckily for my date), Max stopped barking. Max was good with children. He would play with nieces when they were toddlers and never get rough with them. He's understanding of them being smaller was incredible. I loved seeing him leap (like a deer) from the back bushes of our house when we called him. If we dared say the word "walk" he would bolt to the front gate and wait for us. We learned that if Max was in hearing distance we needed to spell W-A-L-K instead of say it. Max had a food dance that he started at the mention of food and happily engage in as his food was brought to him.

As I came home through the years, I could see how much he was aging. Coming home for Christmas and seeing him was the hardest. He was all gray in the face. My dad had said that he could no longer hear (birds and cats would walk right in front of him without care) and the tumors (that Boxers are prone to) had increased significantly. He was longer able to support his body on all fours. His "standing" was more so him putting all of his weight on his hinds legs without completely sitting down. He was skinny. Though he was eating, the tumors were literally sucking the life out of him. My mom and I had gone out shopping one day and Nic called me: "Babe, I came out and looked at Max's tumors and they're really bad. He really needs to be put down. He's suffering." I began crying and told him I didn't want to talk about it. Putting Max down was a discussion no one in the family wanted to have, but I think in the back of our minds we all knew it was time.

Today, my parents put Max down. He was 15 years old, which is the equivalent to 76 years in human years. They took Max to the vet and the doctor said he lived a good life, but it was time. The vet explained to my dad and older brother that even if they were to remove all his tumors, it was no guarantee that all the cancer would be gone. My dad and brother were able to stay with Max right up until they were to begin the procedure.

Farewell Max. We love you and you will never be forgotten.

*Editors Note: I called my younger brother after I posted this blog. He told me that he ended up going (he originally planned on not going. He said it was going to be too hard for him) and sitting with Max in the back of my dad's truck to make sure he didn't jump out. He said Max didn't even consider it. He just rested his head on my brother's shoulder and then Max lay his head in my brothers lap (I didn't say his to my brother, but I think Max knew it was time. He was enjoying the final ride with his best buddy). When they got to the vet, my dad went in and my brother got Max out. Max stood by his side until the vet brought a leash. They were all able to say one final good-bye and then they took him away. Max will truly be missed.

For Posterity

My Grandma 1949:

My Mom 1979:

Me 2005:

My Uncle recently sent me a picture of my Grandma on her wedding day. He commented to me how much my mom looks like her when it was her wedding day. When I got married, my dad told me that I looked just like mom 25 years ago. As you can tell, good genes run in our family :)

Like giving birth. . .

that's what I feel like with this project. It has taken FOREVER to get it EXACTLY the way I want. To get everything formatted. But it's done. So, without further delay:

Click on it. It will take you some where wonderful!

Pooka

I should be working on something else, but I can't concentrate. Instead I'm blogging. About my cat none the less (but I guess this is what you blog about when you don't have any children-haha!). This is Pooka:

Pooka is a calico cat that I've had since Nic and I got engaged. Though she may be "my" cat, Nic has always been her favorite.

Nic is the only person's lap that she (as a kitten) would willing jump into, curl up and fall asleep. When Nic and I were first married (and Pooka was our only cat) she would jump into bed with us and squeeze her way between us. If we didn't budge, she would keep squeezing and squeezing until she got her way. She always wanted to be as close to Nic as possible. One time when Nic came home from work she heard him downstairs (when we lived in an apartment) and ran to the window to see him come up the stairs. Then she ran to the door (because she knew that's where he would be coming from). When Nic didn't come through the door, she ran back to the window, heard him again and meowed. Then she ran to the door. Nic still didn't come in. Back to the window she went, meowed again and this time waited until she saw him walk up the stairs before she ran to the door. I am not making any of this up! She LOVES Nic. She also likes to fetch-yes like a dog does. Nic discovered this when he was playing with her once. He would throw her toy, she would chase after it and bring it back. Then it would repeat. When she was a kitten (and the only cat) she would do this all the time, now it's on her terms. If she wants to play, she will find an object (usually a water bottle cap or the tie around the milk jug) and bring it to your feet (if your seating or standing) or your hands (and nudge them). It's so cute.

If Nic (not so much me) has been gone for a few days, she CRAVES his attention when he gets home. She follows him around until he picks her up and then she cuddles into him. She gets so excited to see and be with him that her nose starts running. We let her sleep in the room with us at night (because she's the queen cat and she needs that extra attention) and around 4 in the AM, she'll start nudging us (mostly me) to let her out. Without fail I will get out of bed, go to the door and call her so she'll go out. She never moves. She just repositions herself on the bed (usually where I got up from). I'll come back to bed defeated and beg Nic to put her out because she won't let me sleep. What does she do? She leaps off the bed when Nic calls her and willingly goes out. Whenever that happens, it is usually followed by "stupid cat" coming from me.

Though she may be full of love for Nic, she has been known to scratch a kid or two that is invading her space. We were baby-sitting our god-daughters one week and I hear the oldest just bawling her head off. I hurry to the crying and I just see blood. Pooka had scratched her face. I asked Nic what happened and he said that he had told our god-daughter to back away from Pooka (because he heard her growl-her warning) and she didn't. The next thing he heard was crying. Our god-daughter since refers to Pooka as the "not nice" kitty. So sad.

So there it is. Our cat Pooka. Full of love and attitude. Oh yeah, she's a guard cat too-but that's a different story, for another time.

Hair Spray Dilema

Since I've quit my job, our income has been cut in half. This is an adjustment that has not been without it's challenges but we're trying our best to make it work. Case in point? Our trip to Wal-Mart yesterday. On the list: hair spray, liquid hand soap and yogurt.


Now, I used to be a salon brat. Going in every four weeks for a trip and six weeks for a cut. Getting my hair colored about every other month. I used the best (salon) products on my hair, even if they cost an arm and a leg. But when we moved into our house, I sacrificed going to the salon as much and stopped using salon products and started using high-end store products. My weapon of choice? Aussie*.


Aussie products smell wonderful and don't leave your hair feeling like it's heavy with product. I love it! I discovered Aussie my senior year of high school and used it through out college and my single days. Going back to Aussie was like going home, it just felt so right :) !


I digress. . .where was I again? Oh, Wal-Mart. Typically at Wal-Mart I would buy this:







This baby cost $4 a pop and it's only 8 oz (though this bottle says 10 oz). Usually I wouldn't even blink at paying that but when you're trying to SAVE money, paying $4 for hair spray seems silly. As I walked by it, I let out a heavy sigh and went to this:




White Rain. $1 for 7 oz. A steal of a deal. But I hate the way my hair feels when I use it and it totally smells like alcohol-gross! As I picked it up off the shelf, I mumbled under my breath: "This sucks!" And my dear hubby looked concerned. He then began to justify why buying the $4 bottle would be okay: 'It will last longer since it has more ounces', 'This a better product', 'It's on sale (which it wasn't)'. This is why I love my husband so dearly, he always trys to make me happy. I couldn't justify buying Aussie-paying $4 more for just ONE ounce just doesn't make sense. So I made the grown up decision and bought White Rain.

We walked out of Wal-Mart only spending $5.07-pretty darn good if I do say so myself.

*I have since learned that Aussie does animal testing on their products and will no longer be using them. Stinky cheese. This is the same reason I stopped using Cover Girl cosmetics.

Young Women Evolution of Dance

I'm now serving as a counselor for the Beehives and I LOVE it! I've been with these girls since they were in Valiant 10's. I love being able to see them grow.

This month we were in charge of our activity and we decided on a talent show. Every youth group was supposed to do a skit (Deacons, Teachers, Priests, Beehives, Mia Maids and Laurels) and the Leader groups (Bishopric, YM Leaders and YW Leaders) and then individuals could sign up. Our Beehives rocked it lip-syncing and dancing to "Once There was a Snowman" by Inside Out . I forgot to record it though-darn! Us YW Leaders busted a move and did evolution of dance it was fun. Check it out:

We're glad everyone had such a good time!