The last 6 weeks

In the last 6 weeks, I have apparently been very busy.  

I got to go to a launch party for the newest HuHot in town. 

I got to play dress up at Charming Charlie with Orion. 

I got to go to Rock Fest with Jaime!

And giggle with my son

I do NOT have arms like a t-rex....damnit!

However, I have apparently mastered the art of jacked up faces.  *sigh* 

New Ink

Last night I did something that I've talked about for a long time....I got my newest tattoo.  Now while this isn't probably shocking to anyone who knows me, or really a matter of interest, the actual tattoo is what seems to have gotten some questions from people.  You see...it's a duck.  Yep, I didn't get autocorrected or anything there.  I officially have a duck tattooed on my left shoulder blade.  However, I promise you that there is a reason for this little duck to have a permanent place in my heart and on my flesh.   I warn you now that this is going to be a rather long blog.


Let's start off with a photo....

This is a photo of one of my grandfather's tattoos.  He got this when he was in the Navy when he was a much younger man.  He has a matching on on the opposite arm that says "Who me?"  It is such a perfect example of my grandpa's personality.  He is loud and obnoxious and is constantly making me laugh.  But at the same time, he is strong, dependable, and has the biggest heart of any man I have ever met.  My grandpa is hard worker and has been the rock in our family for my entire life.  He is a man with 3 daughters and 8 grand daughters, so the fact that he is still semi-sane is pretty remarkable.  Yet he always has a smile on his face and a joke to throw at you.  My grandparents never missed a single event that I was in, including watching me sit on the bench for junior high basketball, driving 4 hours and getting snowed in to watch a vocal concert,  and even sitting in the gymnasium listening to our TERRIBLE school band play their horns out of tune at our annual Christmas program.  No matter what, I would look out in the crowd and know that my grandparents were there...Grandma watching intently and gossiping with her neighbors while Grandpa chowed down on some popcorn and made faces at me whenever we made eye contact.  No matter how badly things were going, I always knew they were there.  No matter how lost I felt, I always knew that I had a place to go.

I couldn't love these people more if I tried...

I remember being a little kid out in the garden with my grandma.  We were talking about life and how crappy things are.  I told her about a conversation that I had with someone....someone who told me "If you found God, things would be better."   To say that I was hurt and offended is putting it mildly.  Church was someplace that I never felt at home, but to say that I should be punished because of that?  What kind of religion would promote such a hate-filled idea?  I was nervous talking to my grandmother as my family had a very Catholic history.  However, she sat me down in the grass and told me very seriously...."I've never felt more connected to the world than I do sitting right here in my garden, watching my plants grow.  No one can tell me that I'm closer to God sitting in a church than I am with my hands buried in the dirt, nurturing the world, and helping things grow.  That is my faith."  Her love and understanding meant the world to me.  For the first time, I knew that my path was ok, no matter what path that may be.  I didn't have to follow the herd.  It was OK to be me.

I'm pretty sure they call this the "stink-eye".  I'm quite sure I deserved it.

My grandfather...well...I can't say that we've ever had a moment that seems quite as "touching" as that one.  We'd spend the weekends with him sitting in his recliner, me curled up on the arm of his chair, watching the Chicago Bulls playing basketball, or we'd go out into his shed and build something that he probably didn't need, but was determined to build anyway.  He taught me to work with my hands and create things.  He taught me to be strong and to work for the things that I wanted out of life.  He taught me respect...and sarcasm.  He has been such an incredible influence on my life that I can only hope to be half the person that he is in my eyes.   I only remember him saying "I love you" to me twice in my life, and I'm quite sure that I've never heard him say it to anyone else, but at the same time I have never once doubted just how much he cares about me.  He is the model of what a man should be, and I'm incredibly grateful that my son has the opportunity to know such an incredible man.

With that information shared, we can now get back to the original point of this post....my tattoo.  When I was a small child I would spend hours with my grandpa, tracing and playing with his tattoos, making up stories about the naughty little ducks.  My grandfather isn't proud of them, honestly, but it said so much about him and told such a story that I connect it deeply to his character and love them completely.  Because of that...I did this:

This is my duck.  We literally traced Grandpa's tattoo and modified and modernized it slightly, trying to stay as true to the original as possible.  The words below it...my grandmother signs each of her cards to me with the words "Love you much" but I wanted to keep it with two words and I truly believe that my grandparents have taught me that it is important to love, and to love much.  That is my grandmother's handwriting permanently etched into my skin.  Seeing it complete, I almost cried.  I can't wait to show it to my grandparents, despite the fact that I know the first words out of my grandfather's mouth will be "What in the hell did you do that for?"

Side by Side comparison

And I have a reason.....I can tell them that I love them over and over, but I wanted a way to show them.  I wanted to show them that no matter what, no matter how far away they are or how long it has been since I have seen them they are always close to my heart, a permanent influence on my life and who I have become.  I know there will be questions from people, but I will wear this silly little duck with a lot of pride.  Someday I hope to be as happy and admired as these lovely people:

Love

My Adventures with Car

Well, I'm not sure anyone really noticed, but I totally missed yesterday's blog.  To say that it was a Monday is definitely an understatement.  It started clear back on Friday.....

I stayed home from work sick and decided I needed to run to the store.  I got there and when I tried to lock the car and it did not honk the way it normally does.  I walked back to my car and tried to unlock the doors and the remote would not work, so I manually unlocked the car and tried to start it.  Needless to say, nothing happened. I called Seth to come jump start my car and wandered the store until he got there from work.  He got to the store where, luckily, there was a parking spot open next to me and tried to jump the car.  After 20+ minutes the car still would not even click.  I called the mechanic across the street and they said if I could get it to them they could look at the car. I was fiddling around in the car while Seth was fiddling around under the hood when suddenly the car alarm went off.  We continued to jump the car, it started, and I drove it to the mechanics.

They were unable to look at it that night, so when I got a call on Saturday morning and they said they couldn't find anything wrong with it I was quite surprised. They had tested the battery and alternator and found both to be in perfect working order.  They had driven it into the garage Friday night and it started fine on Saturday morning.  I asked them to look for a short in the wiring somewhere, maybe in the dash.  I got a call a couple hours later saying they couldn't find anything, so I went and picked up the car.  I drove it a couple times over the weekend and everything seemed to be in working order so I hoped it really was just a bizarre fluke.

Jump to Monday....I went to work in the morning like I normally would.  Nothing exciting was happening so over lunch I decided to take my car to Jiffy Lube to get my oil changed.  Normally this process takes about 20ish minutes so I have plenty of time to get it done and get back to work without any trouble.  I pulled up to the shop, they pulled my car in and tested all my lights, and then proceeded to change my oil.  When they were done they told me I could drive it out of the garage....and once again it would not start.  No click, no chug.....absolutely nothing.

I tell them what had happened before and they decided to tell me they thought it was my starter.  I tried to tell them differently but they insisted that this was the issue. They said that if you hit one with a wrench it would help it turn over....and then proceeded to take off the engine cover.  I quickly realized that they had absolutely no idea what they were doing, so I called a tow truck to have them come get my car and take me to a real mechanic.  Keep in mind, by this point my lunch hour has come and gone.  I have let my co-workers and my boss know and luckily they were not terribly upset by my random disappearance.

We decided to push the car out of their garage to the parking lot in an effort to get it out of the way.  There was a young girl working there as well so we put her behind the wheel of the car.  She steered the car out of the door and then got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition.  I walked around from the back of the car to the driver's door and watched as she tried to use the automatic lock on the car door.  It obviously didn't work since the car battery was dead.  As I approached I watched her reach out and lock the door manually....and in slow motion I stuck my hand out and yelled stop.....she proceeded to slam the door with my hand in it.  She looked at me like I was an idiot and says "What?  The door wouldn't lock!"  I then looked at her and finally lost my temper.  My response is "Well it didn't lock because the battery was dead.  Luckily though I stopped the door because the keys are in the ignition, you dumbass." She rolled her eyes and walked off.   I crawled into my car and hid there until the tow truck came in an effort to keep myself from yelling at more people.

The tow truck came, and the man climbed out of his truck and popped the hood of the car so he could hook up a battery charger so we could get it in neutral to move the car onto the trailer.  As soon as he put the key in the ignition the door alarm starting dinging and the inside lights came on.  Needless to say, my head almost exploded at that point.  He looked at me funny and asked if I wanted to try to start it.  I told him that I wanted to take it to the mechanic anyway and that we may as well haul it since he was already there, so we loaded my car up on the trailer and rode off into the sunset to the mechanical rescue....or something like that.  In reality I pulled up to the Husker friendly depot and explained my issues to them. They even thought the problem was incredibly bizarre but promised to get it taken care of so I could make the 60 mile drive home.   It was then that I told my boss that I would not be returning to work that day.  Suddenly my 20 minute oil change over lunch ended up with me missing 4 hours of work.  *sigh*

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to have Jaime come stalk me for a while to keep me company and eventually they found the electrical problem that was causing all of my issues (OH DO I HOPE!!).  They got them repaired for what I think is a reasonable price.  Of course all of the phone calls of them I had made throughout the day (to Seth, my step-dad, the tow truck, work, the mechanic, etc. etc.) were made standing outside so that the lovely patrons of the different business wouldn't have to hear my incredibly graphic language or the death threats upon the idiots that had previously looked at my car, or my random anger at my car and provoked thoughts of trading the thing in.  By the time I got home I was FREEZING.  Sitting in my car, wearing my coat, and blasting the heater just could not take that chill off (I guess standing outside for 3 hours in January in Nebraska will do that to ya).  I quite literally ate a piece of pizza for supper, grabbed a blanket and pillow off my bed, and then curled up on the floor next to the space heater to try to warm up.  Seth watched the kiddo while I slept off some of my stress.  I woke up long enough to chat with the boys for a little bit, take a shower, and then went and crawled right back into bed.

Luckily I woke up this morning and most of the troubles seemed to have subsided.  I walked into the bathroom, ready to face the day.  Unfortunately what I saw looking back at me was this:

My first and only thought:   OH Damn....How the hell am I supposed to fix this??   At least it turned out to be a much better day than Monday was.