2013 is giving me triskaidekaphobia...

So, how's everyone doing?  It has been awhile.

I have so much to write about, which (of course) means that I'm having a hard time getting started.  Well, that and the fact that I feel like I've spent the last several weeks in a wood chipper.  You know those times in life when everything seems like it is going wrong and crashing in around you?  That's kind of been my experience lately. 

Case in point:  Yesterday was the third day in a row of no AC at the museum.  It was approaching 90 degrees.  In my office.  Granted, I had nothing going on programming-wise, which was a blessing.  Not the case on Tuesday when I had a lecture with 175 participants. 

But back to yesterday:

• A piece of the interior of my car broke off.  The plastic just cracked and a rather significant chunk of what used to be my eye glass storage compartment just landed in my lap.  I JUST spent nearly $2,000 on my car LAST THURSDAY.  I realize that none of that was specifically on the eye glass compartment, but still.

• Then I drove to the gym to discover that my brand new, $60 workout pants that I had only worn ONCE had a hole along the seam in the crotch.  And I didn't have an extra pair of shorts like I usually do in my gym bag.  Which meant my workout was cut short before it even began because I had to run home to change.

• Upon arriving back at the house to get new shorts, I found the dog run gate unlocked and ajar.  The dogs were all still in the backyard (thank goodness!), but Alley had skinned her newly healed nose chasing lizards, Gypsy had gorged her overly sensitive stomach on rotting figs and Haskell had dug several large, deep holes in my flower beds.  Oh, and just for good measure, Haskell was also limping dramatically.  Because, fabulous.

And that all happened in a span of thirty minutes.

Granted, we have AC at the museum again today, I can super glue my car and I'm pretty sure GAP will stand behind their defective product.  I'm even fairly confident that Haskell's shoulder will improve with some R&R (even though I'm starting to suspect arthritis since it is the same shoulder that was surgically corrected six or seven-odd years ago when I found him hit by the car).  But these are examples of the proverbial straws that have had me in tears almost every day of the last three weeks.  Because when you have upheaval and unnecessary drama in your life, sometimes even the little things start to feel insurmountable.  Kind of like drowning.  And it isn't always easy to find perspective when you are metaphorically gasping for air.

Also, is it just me or has 2013 had way, way, way more downs than ups?  I keep trying to do things to improve my karma, but so far it isn't working.  Maybe there is really something to that whole "unlucky 13" bit?  If so, bring on fall and 2014!

In lighter news, my little family of three had a (mostly) wonderful time in Jackson, Wyoming.  I say "mostly" because the trip happened to coincide with Banner getting all four of his canine teeth and a very nasty ear infection.  But the first four of five days were dang near perfect.  If anyone is interested, I've finally gone through my 800+ photos documenting the trip and will probably get around to (back) posting entries in the very near future.

In the meantime, I'd recommend avoiding me in case whatever bad luck streak I have is contagious.  Possibly for the rest of the year.

What a difference a little fog can make...

Trying to make sense of the senseless (and failing)...

I’ve started this and deleted the first sentence about one hundred times. I guess sometimes there just are no words. This is probably why I don’t write about current events on my blog very often. It isn’t because I don't care. I’m just shocked into silence. My soul aches. It is hard to write about something when you can’t get your mind around it to begin with. And that’s just it: the tragedy in Connecticut is just too senseless and horrific for me to even begin to comprehend. My entire being grieves for those sweet babies and their teachers. I cannot fathom what it must be like for their families. I look at Banner and I can’t imagine a world where I continued to exist if he suddenly ceased to be in it.

Just last Monday, I burst into tears after a tour of the cardiac ICU at Children’s Hospital. All those tiny babies hooked up to so many machines. I know they are in the best place and – because of the care that they are receiving – most will survive into adulthood. Still, it was one of those moments that really hit me hard, and I found myself saying prayer after prayer of thanks for my baby and his good health.

And then Friday happened, and I found myself thanking God for each and every moment I get to spend with my sweet child.

I am so lucky. So blessed.

I am also terrified. Chaos. How does one protect their family from chaos? Because part of me wants barricade my loved ones in my house and never let them out again. I can see how easy it would be to give into that fear, too. But the price for living in fear is never really living.

Last Wednesday, my coworker and I were walking to our cars and discussing all the mass shootings around the country lately. There had been one at a church over the weekend and another at a mall in Oregon the day before. I expressed concern over the silly little superstition that things sometimes happen in threes, and wondered aloud if we – as a nation – were beginning to become desensitized to cases of mass shootings. Lately they seem to happen so often. The church shooting last weekend was barely a blip on the news at 10 PM, and the terror at the mall two days later was all but gone from the headlines by Wednesday afternoon.

Then on Friday morning at 8:30 CST, I was picking up after the dogs in the yard before heading to work. All of a sudden I heard these popping noises coming from the house behind ours. My first instinct was to duck. I thought they were gunshots. Which is silly. Why would there be gunshots in my neighborhood? I’ve never heard any before. Then again, I’m sure no one expected to hear them at an elementary school before Friday either.

It was only after they kept happening that I finally realized what they really were: Neighbor Joe across the alley was getting a new roof.

And what gets me is that at the exact same time, some 1400 miles away, six and seven year olds were also hearing popping sounds. Except they really were gunshots. My terror came and went in an instant. Theirs continues on.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” 

- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Captain Phil...

Captain Phil Harris
© Discovery

One of my favorite shows on the Discovery Channel is The Deadliest Catch. I love everything about it, and have been watching the show since it first premiered five years ago. It is one of the very few reality TV shows I watch (preferring to call it a "documentary"), and I talk about the men on the show like I actually know them. Like we are friends. I know it is silly (stupid even), but I care about the guys and root for them every season. Maybe that is the mark of a good TV show? I dunno, but I doubt I am the only person who feels this way about it.

Since the beginning, my favorite crab boat captain has been Phil Harris on the Cornelia Marie. So, imagine my concern when I heard that he had suffered a massive stroke on January 29th, and my relief when I learned he finally woke up from the medically induced coma last week (reportedly telling the nurses, "Don't f*ck up").

My coworker, who also watches the show, and I discussed how lucky it was that Captain Phil had his stroke while off loading his catch in port. Had he been out at sea when it happened, he would have surely died. Both of us hoped that the news of Captain Phil waking up (and talking!) meant that he was on the road to recovery.

The news of his death this morning, though, was shocking. It is weird. Again, I didn't know him. I don't know his family or any other details about him other than what I've seen on the TV. But I am sad. I am sad for him, for the loss. For his friends and family who are in mourning. For all those who loved him.

I guess I should find comfort in the knowledge that he died doing what he loved. When he suffered a blood clot a couple of seasons ago, it was clear that Captain Phil was unable to change is lifestyle in an effort to get healthy (quit smoking, find a less stressful career, etc.). He was a crab fisherman. If he couldn't do what he loved than I'm not sure life - for him - would have been worth living.

At least, that is what I ascertained from watching him on TV...

Phil Harris (center) with his sons, Jake (left) and Josh (right)
© corneliamarie.com

It can always be worse...

This evening I found myself watching the Fox Octomom special on the internet. Why? Planning a wedding is stressful, but at least I don’t have fourteen kids and a two year old that slaps me in the face and calls me a b*tch. Nor do I think my house is haunted. Overall, my life is a picnic. I just needed a little perspective.

If you need some too, here you go:

Octomom: The Incredible Unseen Footage

(It is like a train wreck: You want to turn away, but just can’t.)