Field Trip

Yesterday was my first major "field trip" out of the house since surgery. I rode along for some fresh air with Mom to Home Depot. We were on a mission to check into some new flooring for the bathrooms. When the house was built years ago, laminate wood flooring was laid in the bathrooms. Hello? Moisture anyone? Needless to say, it's starting to warp. She took a photo of the wall color before we left so she could try and match it. Anyway..... an hour into our excursion, I was feeling tired and needed to sit down. At this point, we were in the toilet aisle looking for a new seat cover when I saw it.... my chance to take a rest. 

Forgetting that mom had camera in hand from the paint sample she snapped this lovely photo. I have yet another memory for the books. Thanks Mom!

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

A HUGE THANK YOU to the person who sent the unsigned hilarious get well card with a fabulous gift card inside! You truly are an angel. I am so grateful. You'll never know how much it was needed and appreciated.

Debra Kay Photography - HAS ARRIVED!

I am so excited to announce that my Mother's photography website is up and running. I am so very proud of her! It can be viewed @ www.debrakayphotography.com

Oil Changed

I can recall on one hand the amount of times I have had someone change the oil in my car other than myself. I'll admit, today was another one of those times. At age sixteen, my Grandfather taught me how. He said "If you are going to drive, then you need to know how to change it." Another of his famous lines that I still live by today...  "If you want something done right, do it yourself." I could usually be caught one lazy Wisconsin Sunday a month changing my oil, then my mother's, then the grandparent's. I had my own little service station set up right at the end of the gravel driveway. I loved it!

However, today was different. I know my Grandfather's ashes swirled up in disagreement under his deer stand when Mom had to take her car to get it changed today. I sat quietly and "sedated" as the passenger. Once in the garage, they had the plug out, oil drained, and back in place in what seemed like thirty seconds. HELLO? There's no possible way the oil can drain out "properly" in that amount of time. It was about then that I slipped back in time. While the oil would drain, Grandpa and I would walk up to the house where Grandma had made lunch for us grease monkeys. I was snatched back to earth today when the idiotic technician hastily started the car to make sure all the warning lights went out. Again, WHAT? That's not the way it's done. You give the oil time to seep down into the filter to fill it. You B.S. about how expensive oil is compared to 1980. Did this technician know he had committed an oil change crime? It was all I could do to bite my tongue, but I did. I know that nothing stays the same forever and sometimes that's okay, even if the oil does get changed.... by someone other than myself. 

Ruptured Heart

Like most people, I hate being sick. I hate not being at work (unless I'm on vacation). I hate not feeling well. I hate not feeling in control. I hate not knowing what's going on.

It seems like there's been a lot of the above the past week or so. It all started with severe shooting pain down the left side of my spine and into my left arm. In less than a week it was so severe that it hurt to breathe, sit, lay, and walk. I was going into the bathroom at work crying with pain. In May, out of nowhere, I had experienced a pinched nerve. I figured it was along the same line, so I was not going to jump to conclusions right away. If it was a pinched nerve again, it would get better in time with a simple shot in the ass. I'm very stubborn and I can tolerate a lot of pain. No, I've never been shot or chased and attacked by savage animals, but I am determined to experience child birth naturally.... when that time comes.

I was determined to make it to my Christmas Party even if they had to carry me in on a gurney. Call me crazy, but I look forward to the party. Hello? Free Fattening foods. Free drinks. A hilarious video including myself riding a bull, throwing myself on my boss's furniture and floor trying to impersonate a famous person I thought was a wrestler but wasn't, inhaling helium, a chance to play pool (love the game) and win a gift certificate.... AND I would have won that game if that damn hit songwriter Troy wouldn't have been there. 

"Love Ya Troy!"  

This year also held something a little different, which was a date for Darcy. Yes, my friend Matt was escorting me and I was so excited! So, (after a large sigh), there was no way I was going to miss this party even though I questioned myself before going to the party. The question was, "Do I go to the ER or to the Christmas Party?"

After leaving the party that evening and retreating to my friend's home, I could not sleep. The pain was way too severe that I was up all night long. After heading back into town around 6:30 am, I met my mother at Williamson Medical Center ER. No matter what they say, you're never too old to have your mom in hand. In less than two hours (which is a miracle at a hospital), I was in the MRI machine laying flat on my back moaning with pain. In less than twenty minutes, I had the news. I wasn't going home. I was being admitted to the hospital. A disc in my cervical spine had ruptured. Couldn't they just give me the drugs and send me home??? 

Being in the hospital was hard on me. I have so many friends who care for me, who pray for me, who uplift me and who love me. I am a very blessed person.... to a point that I will never comprehend. While I was laying there in misery, I came to realize that all the people in the world can care for me, but I still yearned for that one special "someone" to call or be by my bedside tenderly stroking my hand.

Not An Angel?

As Christmas approaches, I often reminisce about past Christmases and the fun I had in the Wisconsin winter snow growing up. Last night as I lay in bed, another past thought floated into my head. Angels. Christmas Angels. 6th Grade Christmas Program Angels. It wasn't shortly thereafter that the outrage started to mount.

In my hometown, every year there is a grade school 

Christmas program. It encompasses kindergarten through sixth grade. Almost the whole town goes. All five hundred of them. Let's just say, that it's every girl's dream (in my opinion) to be picked as a Christmas Angel in sixth grade. It's what sixth grade Christmas is all about. I dreamed all year about getting called into Mrs. Register's room and being asked to be one of nine angels. I knew that I would be called in, but when was the question. I was a singing fool. I knew I was going to be a country singing sensation one day, so this would be an added feather to my hat. It wasn't long before my friend Tracie was asked, then Dawn, then Missy, then others. I knew deep down how bad Mrs. Register knew I wanted to be an angel. Thus, I KNEW she was saving to ask me last. How thoughtful of her! The next week the devastating news was delivered to me. I had not been picked as an angel. How could this happen? Was this a 1992 version of Punk'd? I cried and cried and cried for days, if not weeks over not getting picked. 

Still, to this day I don't understand why I didn't get picked. I do know that that experience is part of what has made me a stronger person. However, if this blog ever makes it to Mrs. Register, I do want to know. Why didn't you pick me??? After all, I am the one still in the music industry.

Pedicure Virginity

I admit it proudly. I've finally lost my toe nail virginity. Yep, that's right. I got my very first pedicure this week. It's all thanks to my friend Katrina. I do believe she has introduced me to a small part of heaven. 

I was a little frightened at the idea of removing my socks, (sock and toe lint) that had been on my feet all day. As I peeled them off and was moving into my comfort zone, I realized I hadn't shaved my legs in the last two weeks. OMG! How could I forget to shave my legs? I was so embarrassed! Guess it doesn't get done quite as frequently with no man currently in my life. Not real sure what nationality the ladies were from that were working on Katrina and I, but I couldn't help but wonder what they were saying when they weren't speaking in English.... maybe "these girls have stinky feet" or "I wish my feet were as beautiful as theirs." 

All I know and can say are my feet have never looked more beautiful! Thank you Katrina!

Air On My Face

I could feel it in the air as soon as I walked out of class tonight. I stood still for a few moments, letting the wind brush my face and toss my hair around as if I were in a whimsical fairy tale. The sound of the leaves rustling took me back to those places immediately. Those dark nights. Those gravel roads in the middle of nowhere, nowhere. Old men standing around (including my gpa), ready and eager to let their dogs out to tree coon. The hunt could last a couple of hours if nothing was moving or deep into the night if their was a lot of movement. No lights except for the light on your hat. They were coal miners going deep into the woods instead of deep beneath the earth.

I remember this one time. I had to go to the bathroom so bad for so long. (two plus hours) Every time I tried to stop and go, gpa would tell me that if I stopped, I'd have to catch up in the dark. Unfortunately, I KNEW he was telling the truth. We are talking about a gpa who left gma at a Wal-Mart because she took more time than he thought was appropriate. Those damn dogs wouldn't stop running because they were on a coon scent. It was good for them, but bad for me. Although, I did finally get to go... four and a half hours later when we got home.