A Barbecue Epiphany

   When I was growing up my Dad always was the master of the barbecue.  Every single time he came home off the road I would look forward to whatever he would prepare for us on the grill.  Whether it was hamburgers, chicken, or steak when it came to grilling, I knew that was my Dad’s domain.   I even remember it was always my Grandpa’s that ruled the barbecue grills in their households.  It was the way things were.  I accepted it.  I never aspired to learn how to grill food; I simply knew I wasn’t a guy so it wasn’t my thing to do.  Women did the cooking in the kitchen and the men took care of any barbecuing that needed done.

       It is hardly surprising that once I married my husband I accepted the fact that he was the one to grill food and I would handle any cooking done in the kitchen.  I have to admit when I was first married and setting up housekeeping I was completely clueless what to make for dinner or how much to prepare.  The weird thing was I would go to the grocery store and buy all the things my husband liked even though he wasn’t going to be around to eat it. 



       One Halloween my sister had made a huge batch of vegetable soup just like our mom used to make.  I honestly thought I had died and went to heaven.  She gave me a huge container of it to take home and asked me at the time “Why don’t you make a big pot of soup yourself if you love it so much?”  The answer was simple.  My husband didn’t like vegetable soup and hated carrots.  She seemed unimpressed.  I remember her saying “Hells Bells Kathy, as much as he is gone, why is stopping you from making some for yourself? I would make the things you like when he isn’t around and make what he likes when he is!”  That stuck with me, and I made up my mind I was going to do just that.  Believe me, I became an even happier person when I realized this small truth.

        Here I am, 44 years old having been married almost 15 years and guess what?  I am mastering the barbecue grill!  It has the added extra bonus of involving less mess in the kitchen and the beauty of not heating up the kitchen with the hot stove!  I am woman, see me roar!!  Can you possibly imagine how liberating it was for me to break the patterns of a lifetime and do something that I never imagined myself doing?  It is awesome!  I started on this new grilling adventure this summer and now, I grill every single night!!  Everything from chicken to pork chops to steaks experimenting with marinades and spicy rubs; I am having the time of my life and feeling like I conquered Everest!!  I can do it, and do it well.  It took me 44 years to accept the fact that I didn’t need a twig and giggle berries hanging between my legs to operate a barbecue grill!!

        Being a trucker’s wife, you end up taking on tasks you would never dream possible no matter how big or small simply because you don’t have a choice in the matter.  Sometimes you got to do what you have to do.  I had to either $hit or get off the pot and learn the hard way when everything went to hell.  I had to figure out how to do it myself, fix whatever was broken,  and basically figure out how to survive and get the job done on my own.   There is no one else that is going to do it for me.  It is up to me.  To most people grilling meat on a gas grill is small potatoes compared to some of the major accomplishments some folks take on and conquer.  As you can see, it doesn’t take much to make my day and believe me making edible food on the grill is right up there for me.  It reminds me I can soar and do anything I set my mind to if I just try until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

The Jump or the Landing?

NaBloPoMo asks:

Is it the jump you worry about most or the landing?

     I think it is an even tie for me.  I am petrified to jump and terrified of the final splat when I fall flat on my face.  The overlying fear of failure kills any form of ambition I may muster.  Do you suppose that sky divers and bungee jumpers worry about the landing?  Imagine if one little thing goes wrong perhaps the parachute doesn’t open as planned or the bungee cord snaps you can guarantee you will end up road kill in the end.  I avoid either situation by being too chicken $hit to even contemplate trying either.  I don’t care how life gets I don’t care to sign up to scare the living be Je$us out of myself with the jump or the landing in either case.  Knowing myself as I do, I would be too petrified to jump and would need to be pushed.  The decision to jump would have to be taken out of my hands.

     Several years ago I was petrified to leave the home my husband and I had lived in for over 11 years.  I didn’t know how it was going to be. I feared the unknown and unfamiliar.   I agonized over the transition.  What I discovered was that the more of our stuff we moved into the new house, the more it was situated just the way we liked, and the more of our possessions were put away, the more our new house felt like home.  I worried about the jump and the landing.  In the end, I adjusted and realized it isn’t where you lay your head; home is where your family is, and where your stuff is.  The rest is just geography.

       Even when I was a kid contemplating the diving board of my Aunt’s pool, I was terrified to jump and even more petrified of the landing especially if I attempted to dive.  If I had to think about it, I would never do it.  If I could take a running jump where I had little time to think, all was better with the landing.  I knew how to swim well enough that I wouldn’t have drowned but still there was that underlying fear that made me hesitate.

       Maybe the fear I have carried around with me all my life like used baggage has more to do with the lack of confidence I suffer from more than my ability to jump or worrying about how my landing will be.  I have always lacked confidence in my ability.  I would work myself into a real frenzy certain I would fail only to succeed with flying colors in the end.  I wish I didn’t fear the plunge.  I wish I wouldn’t worry about my potential to fail.  I wish I could just have the balls to jump, enjoy the ride, and never worry about the landing.  Unfortunately I have never been able to muster enough confidence from deep within to be overly convincing even to myself.  Money talks, and bull$hit walks my mom always used to say.  Even though bull$hit can get you pretty far if you are a master, in the end it is having the guts to jump and not care about the landing that rules the day.

        I will probably go through my whole life worrying about both equally no matter how hard I try to appear unaffected and maintain my cool. Worrying is in my genetic makeup. My Grandma was a master of worry.  No matter how many times I remind myself that I need to give my worries to the L0rd, I still have those moments of pure panic.  If only I could be fearless!   Instead I worry myself sick and have to be dragged kicking and screaming, paralyzed in my fear to take the plunge until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

I Dreamed that I …BFF 202

    I dreamed that I was young again living in Nashville, Tennessee in the basement of the dorm at Belmont University.  I woke to discover not only that my roommate had left to parts unknown but that the whole place seemed to be deserted except for me.  The silence was deafening.




     With panic rising I hurriedly bolted from my bed and went looking for someone, anyone.  I didn’t bother to dress.  I simply left in my night gown and bare feet.  Every door stood open with each room equally deserted.  Where is everyone?  Why didn’t they wake me and take me with them?  I felt an urgency to find someone and discover where they had gone.  I bolted up the stairs two at a time and burst into the lobby which also was equally deserted.  It was odd.  Even more strange was that every clock I passed including my watch had stopped at precisely 12:00.  None of them appeared to be in working order.  It was if everyone had vanished and time stood still from that moment on.

     As fear continued to grip my heart I rushed out onto campus feeling sure I would discover someone there.  The grounds were also eerily silent except for the pounding of my heart.  There were no sounds, no sign of life, and no movement anywhere.  I rushed across campus toward the mansion that is the centerpiece of the grounds.  Even it looked eerily deserted.  It didn’t make sense.  As I approached, I saw movement in an upstairs window.  A ghostly face peered out behind the curtain and then just as quickly was gone.

      I raced to the front door certain that the person I seen would know where everyone was and would know why I was alone.  I desperately needed the answers that would calm my sense of panic.  The front door was locked tight.  I beat on the door with both fists in vain.  No one came to the door.  Frustrated, tears swam in my eyes.  “Where is everyone!!?  G0d help me! “I screamed in frustration.  Maybe I had only imagined I seen someone.  Perhaps Adelicia Acklen Cheatham’s ghost was making her rounds.  That thought didn’t exactly make me feel all warm and cozy inside.  I gazed up at the window again.  The face was gone. There was no sign of life there either.  My mind was simply playing tricks on me. 

          Sweat poured off my brow.  I was hot and winded from running.  I didn’t understand what was happening.  I decided to turn around and return to the dorm with hopes that someone would be there by now.  I climbed the hill.  My breath was labored and I was instantly exhausted from my merry chase and my fear.  Maybe there would be someone to be found in the other girl’s dorm.  There had to be someone.  Certainly a campus that is normally swarming with people wouldn’t be deserted as if evacuated for a natural disaster.  

       Unlike my dorm, the other girl’s residence hall has an elevator.  Being hot and tired, I had no intention of running up or down any more stairs and chose to take full advantage of it.  With purpose I marched up to the elevator and pressed the up button and patiently waited.  The elevator arrived and I stepped inside.  As the doors slid closed I pressed a random floor and waited watching the numbers light up in slow succession as it made its ascent.  Suddenly everything went black and the elevator plummeted.  Falling to the floor, I scream in terror, and woke screaming and sitting bolt upright in bed sweating profusely, panting, and suddenly wide awake.  It was a dream, only a silly dream.  It was simply a silly dream that seemed so incredibly real that it left me gasping for breath, dripping with sweat, and trembling.  

       I have never understood what that dream meant.  I have dreamt it several times over the years since I left Belmont University.  Although I am usually alone, there have been other similar dreams when I have been accompanied by my kids and even my husband, which is even more incredible since they have never even been there.  Sometimes I have dreamed that although I have found others I wasn’t able to communicate with them.  It was as if I was invisible or didn’t exist in their reality.  They couldn’t hear or see me.    I rarely dream, but when I do it is always some bizarre twisted tale which makes absolutely no sense.  Although my parent’s visits in my dreams are rare, I find when they do grace my dreams with their presence I fight waking up because I am desperate to remain with them as long as I can.   Since most of my dreams leave me wondering why, or scaring the be Je$us out of me I am just as happy to simply sleep dreamless until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
       

Focus on This! : Birds

Bungee Jumping

NaBloPoMo asks:

Would you ever go bungee jumping?

       I don’t even have to think about this one.  Hell no, I would never go bungee jumping even if someone paid me.  Whose brilliant idea was it to bungee jump anyways?  What kind of a fool pays big money to be attached to a bit of elastic and then catapulted off of a bridge or high building to dangle and bounce?  Obviously the answer would be the kind of folks desperate to appear cool that are thrill seekers looking for a rush.  

       I would never pay money to $hit my pants, possibly have a heart attack, and at the least scare the living be Je$us out of myself in front of an audience of people.  With my luck the bungee cord would break and I would end up a huge splat looking much like road kill.  No thank you, I believe I will pass.  I may be a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket but I reckon to bungee jump you would have to be a stellar resident at the funny farm.  Besides I speak fluent chicken when it comes to anything like bungee jumping, riding roller coasters , or any other insane scheme that could involve certain death.  More power to the daring few that take their lives in their hands.  I will never be one of you until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

    What about you?  Feel like riding the lightning, tasting the thrill, and plummeting several hundred feet for the hell of it? Would you go bungee jumping?

Strength

     I no longer pray for miracles.  I learned the hard way to pray for strength instead.  If only I have the strength to deal with whatever life deals up today I am good to go.  As I think back over the events of my life I realize that whenever I prayed for a miracle I received strength instead.  The way I see it, I might as well cut to the chase and pray for strength from the get go.  Strength to persevere, strength to endure, strength to survive, and the strength to see whatever I must do through until the bitter end. 

     As I write this post I keep thinking about the old saying that G0d will never give anyone more than they can bear.  There are a lot of things in my life that I have struggled to understand the whys over the years.   I have found it  matters little how much you bemoan your fate, you must soldier on finding hope and blessings to count at the end of each day no matter how small if for no other reason but to keep your sanity.  If I have learned anything from life it is that the sun rises and sets no matter what turmoil your life is in.  You might as well find a reason to be glad and look forward to tomorrow.

     Strength isn’t all about muscle and brawn, although many think so.  Some people will lift weights and in desperation shoot themselves up with steroids in their quest for strength.  Is a person that can lift vast amounts stronger than someone goes through life taking each day one at a time carrying with them the scars that have been left on their soul?    The trials in life make a person stronger because with experience comes knowledge.  You have been there and done that.  It didn’t break you then, and it won’t break you if it ever happens again.  You have lived and learned.  

     Strength is more about how you handle what life dishes out to you.  It is standing your ground.  It is fighting for what you believe in.  It is having the utmost faith that G0d will see you through and provide healthy doses of strength when needed.  If you can’t do that, it doesn’t matter how much muscle you have or don’t have.  When faced with extraordinary circumstances, strength is found within.  The L0rd provides it when needed so that even the most unlikely can achieve extraordinary things.  When it comes right down to it, what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

Silent Sunday- Catch the Wind!

Endings

  The only good thing about endings is that with them come the dawn of new beginnings.  A person can almost tolerate the pain of saying goodbye when you fill your mind with the excitement of something new and unknown.


    

        The other day I walked out to get the mail and instead of the usual bills I discovered a letter from my daughter’s school.  Toward the end of the year my daughter was tested to see if she would qualify for high ability classes.  Throughout all of her years of school she has always achieved straight A’s.  When she was in 4th grade she was tested for high ability and it was decided by educators in charge of such things that she remain where she was.  At that point she cried because she didn’t get in!  It was feared at the time that if she was moved up she might struggle, be overwhelmed, and then her self esteem would suffer. 

      

        This past year was an easy year for my daughter.    The many times I ventured to the school to have lunch with her I discovered her to be extremely happy surrounded by her circle of friends.  When it came time for her to be tested for the high ability classes for next year, her friends encouraged her to fail while I encouraged her to do her best.  She wanted to stay where she was and wanted nothing more than to stay where it was safe surrounded by her friends, happy, and sliding through life without a care in the world. 

       I knew the envelope from the mailbox held the answer to her placement for the new school year and I knew instinctively that I had to open it before I went into the house.  I tore it open and scanned through the letter that congratulated me and her for being placed into high ability for the coming school year.  I braced myself to tell her.  I knew she would not be happy.    This letter confirmed that from here on out she would no longer be in an ordinary class with her friends, but moved to another section of the school and surrounded by other brainy kids she had yet to meet who excelled.   I no longer was in a rush to get inside.    I thought about my funny, zany girl and knew deep down that even being challenged mentally in high ability wouldn’t extinguish the comedic zany spark I always have seen in her.  I knew I had to tell her, and I dreaded it.

      I had good reason to dread being the bearer of this particular piece of news.  At the announcement that she would leave M team to join the high ability S team of her intermediate school my daughter moaned “NO!” like a wounded animal and promptly broke into sobs.  My heart broke for her but I knew what I had to do.  I hugged her and helped her look on the bright side of this situation.  Even though there was the stipulation that I could request she not be moved into high ability classes promising more work and the concept of leaving her group of friends, I presented the concept that perhaps this ending was meant to be. 

         Perhaps she should have been with the smart kids all along.  I could see her fears ran deeper than leaving the friends she had found the year before.  The bottom line was that she was afraid she would fail miserably and never be able to keep up.  It was time for her to ride the lightning and step up to the plate.  It was time for her to be challenged and have her mind opened to more new exciting things.

   

     In another year the end of intermediate school will come and junior high will dawn on the horizon with even more promise for growth and opportunity.   Absolutely nothing stays the same.  Life is ever changing and keeps on playing out as it is meant to. I swallowed my own personal reservations about this new appointment and chose to encourage her.  We chose to celebrate her successes and look forward to the future instead of dwelling on everything she would be leaving behind.   With endings come the promise of a new beginning and with that comes excitement and hope for all the tomorrows to come until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

I Blog Because…. BFF 204

      I blog because I can, and I don‘t have to work at it.  The words flow from somewhere, and everything some how falls into place.  That is the best part.  You couldn’t get much simpler than that.  I wouldn’t have to.  I never aspired to be a writer while growing up and surely didn’t do it for fun then.  I don’t aspire to write books.  I don’t imagine myself to be particularly good at it.  I just know that the words flow from somewhere and I type them out.  Before I know it I have a blog.  I edit the hell out of it because I am a perfectionist that way.  I always have been.  Once I am happy with the words, pictures, and music I unleash it to the world.  I never put up something I feel is half a$$ed.  Before I hit publish, I am pleased with my effort or I delete it.

      Back in 2009 I was surfing the internet looking for a way to make a little money from home.  That in itself is a laugh.  In my experience, there isn’t a lot of money to be made from home doing anything, let alone writing.  There are no get rich quick schemes, just a lot of slimy people running a good scam.  Still somewhere along the line I must have filled out something because the next thing I knew this company called me up and asked me to write reviews for them.  They would pay me $5.00 a pop. 

         There is always a catch though.  I had to pay them $200.00 to set me up with a website.  At the time I wasn’t even sure I could write.  I thought what the hell, why not?  My husband told me to go for it and I did.  What did I really have to lose aside from the initial $200.00?  So away I went.  They were kind enough to teach me the ropes and over the years I learned a lot and made my money back and then some.  By August 2011, the company that got me started went belly up.  I was left with a website I could no longer update. 

         By then I had been bitten by the writer’s bug.  I grabbed a free blogger site and designed it from scratch and kept on writing away.    Writing gave me purpose.  It helped the 3-6 weeks my husband spent on the road pass more quickly.  It helped me vent.  It helped me stay sane.  Through it I met some amazing people who also wrote online and they became friends.

        Why do I blog?  That is a very good question and not one I really ever think about.  I surely wouldn’t have too.  At this point I do it because I like to.  I enjoy putting the graphics, music, and words together.  It is fun.  It is a hobby and it is an added bonus when folks drop by to read and let me know they have been here with their comments.   It is a little like having a virtual open house all the time.  Folks come on over to my little home on the internet, read my words, jam to my tunes, and hopefully enjoy what they find.  If I am lucky my words move them, or at least make them giggle.  The best part is I don’t have to dress up for company or even have the house in order.  I never have to leave my house, only fire up my computer. 


      

       I have no illusions that I am more special than anyone else or that anyone in the free world would give a rat’s a$$ about what I have to say.  I don’t claim to be another Danielle Steel or Stephen King.  I am just me.  What you see is what you get basically. I write what I think.  I love participating in the writing challenges put up by the groups I belong to. It is fun.  I love the interaction and reading what others come up with for the same challenge.  It is like being apart of a club.  Everyone gets together to encourage everyone else and have fun at the same time.  When you get down to brass tacks, I write to express myself until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.