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. 

Mr. Darcy

Am I the only one left who believes in true love? true romance? This question comes after last evening of doing house work while watching "Pride and Prejudice"and "In Love & War" on TV.  To be honest, there was very little house work involved, but it still counts. How can anyone not fall in love with Mr. Darcy? No pun intended! I beg the question.... are there any Mr. Darcy's left in this world and if so, where are they?

Unfaithful?

The question is, can we put faith in someone who is unfaithful? This question/statement has been bouncing around between the walls of my brain since this mornings church service. What exactly does that mean? It has stopped me in my tracks.

For instance, I have a new found friend. I'll call him Jerry for alias purposes. Jerry seems to be a nice guy, a sweet guy, a polite guy, even a handsome guy, BUT whenever he says something, I don't know if I should put total faith in what he says. His actions never seem to follow his words, even though he seems most sincere. Does that mean he's 'unfaithful' and if it does, should I not be putting faith in him? Faith that he's going to follow through with his word or faith that he's actually going to do what he said he would....

Piece Of Advice

Here's a piece of advice for you ladies (and some men) out there. Don't watch the movie "Sex And The City" and then go to the gym the next morning. I noticed every bulge, curve, and flexed muscle on the man across from me working out. It was all I could do to hold this kitty cat back. 

"I am woman, hear from roar." - unknown author

Love Favors Some

Why is it that when I moved away from home, I didn't leave my demons behind? Isn't part of moving to a new place, part of moving on from what I was? It was my option to leave them behind so why take them? Why? 

In my opinion the intangible demons are the worst, that's what I have. Unlike the tangible ones, (alcohol, drugs, porn, food) there's a book and a plan for those. I have always found God to be the best answer, but sometimes the anger I have at Him is so deep. I just can't go there. I know as a Christian, that's the wrong things to say, but it's a honest thought. It's at this point, I want someone to hold me and say it'll be alright, even if it's not. Unfortunately, that's not usually an option. So Then what? Then nothing! Love just seems to favor some more than others.

Fat Straw

I believe I'm only going to live once (unless there's something I don't know) so I'm going to make the most of it. I had heard great things about this place called "Fat Straw" a few blocks from where I work so decided to check it out. From what I heard, I assumed (first mistake) that it had regular type  shakes and smoothies. Well..... I was kind of right. They serve a product called Bubble Tea, which I had never heard of before. Let's just say that I should have researched it before I went there. The guy was less than helpful to this virgin Bubble Tea drinker, but I forged my way through and ordered a Black Tea base with Fruit Tea and "the balls" at the bottom. Not a good decision! For the price, I should have just went to Starbucks and forked over the cash for something I KNOW I like. But, where would the adventure have been in that??? That was the whole point! I don't have plans on returning any time soon, but Starbucks..... here I come!

The Peaceful Little Man

I feel so blessed to live in an area where I have several options to get home. For instance, if I have to pee, it's interstate all the way baby! If I'm feeling the need for a little fresh air and scenery, then it's the back roads @ 45 mph.... even slower if I can help it. The whole back road situation brings my country soul so much joy. This is where I get to see that the little man hasn't totally disappeared. The old churches, farmhouses, pole sheds, fences, and one stop gas stations (very few of those left and fewer that have gas)... not to mention the smells. Krispy Creme doesn't have anything on the smell of fresh hay bails, horse farms, mowed lawns, and people grilling out. It surely makes the move way out of town feel worthy. 

This month marks a year that I've been driving these back roads, and to celebrate I stopped a few weeks ago at an unknown house on my way home. However, this is not just any house. This house looks at me in such a sultry mysterious way every time I drive past. Actually, it's not so much the house, but the aged rocker on the front porch. The house doesn't look like it could be more than 600 square feet. The front has a concrete porch that runs the length of the house and is about two feet off the ground. There is something about this rocker that just draws me in. Maybe because it stands all alone, as if it is the only one who has survived the storm of life.

It's peaceful the way it sits there under the small awning as the sun shines around the corner, as if to get a quick peek at it before setting behind the trees.

It's so picturesque, almost as if it's just waiting for someone to take a snapshot and publish it in a book or magazine. Anyway, I stopped at the house. I figured the person who lived there couldn't be too much of a looney since a few weeks prior they had a sign out for fresh peaches for sale. I knocked on the door and a very petite elderly man made his way out. I kept thinking "he's going to think I'm crazy for stopping because of a chair." I noticed he had a hearing aid (not that it helped). I told him how I drive home from work in anticipation of seeing the lonely standing rocker. He smiled, then laughed. I'd come to learn that it was his wife's, whom passed last year at 92. He is 82. After he invited me in (yes, I was leery, but had pepper spray) I'd come to learn more about him. He served in WWII and was going to Washington D.C. next week to be honored. He grew up in the area and that his family was located all around the area with his daughter residing next door. I have a thing for the older generations. I love their stories. His home was probably just as it was when he and his wife moved there. It had brown shag carpeting, a floral brown couch and chair from the 70's, a photo of their only child from years back, one wood stove in the corner, and all white walls. The bare minimal of decorations adorned with years of living. He was a joy to visit with and I could tell he was pleased that I stopped to share my thoughts about the old weathered rocker. He invited me back anytime and I plan to take him up on that offer.

Labor Day prepares us Northerners...

As Labor Day Weekend came to an end yesterday, I couldn't help but think about home (Wisconsin) and replay memories in my mind like an old black and white slideshow. You see, summer comes and goes so quickly in the north and us Northerners enjoy it to the last drop -much like the Southerners enjoy their sweet tea and lemon here. It's good till the last drop. 

Wisconsin summers are typically three months of the year (June-August) and once mid September hits, we start preparing for the winter ahead. For many women, it's canning time and for the men it's getting projects done around the farm before the cold spell hits. Labor Day weekend in the north signifies more than cookouts and patriotism. It signifies a change of season when leaves start to turn vibrant colors and autumn has begun to set in. It's also a time to be at one with nature. It's the last weekend that many (especially tourists) take to the beautiful and majestic surrounding lakes. (My favorite is Lake Holcombe) Northerners begin pulling in docks, sealing up and storing boats and pontoons for the winter. 

Every Labor Day for me, is remembering those three months through the years jam packed with camping, fishing, playing with cousins, pulling weeds, planting in grandma's garden, and swimming in surrounding lakes. It's watching the geese fly in their carefully planned "V" pattern south while wondering why one goose gets to lead the pack over another. It's saying goodbye to some animals and saying hello to others (Bambi). It's knowing that nature will change whether one is ready or not. To appreciate the change of time and seasons, one needs to live it and be in it to become it. I have done that and I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything. 

Pictured below is my grandpa and I taking a cruise on a brisk autumn Wisconsin day quite a few years ago. Man, I miss him and that four wheeler too!

Williamson County Fair

There is just something about a fair that brings out the child in all of us. For some of us it's the food (the hot pink cotton candy or the 5000 calorie funnel cake). For others it's the rides (rollercoasters and Ferris Wheels). For me it's the animals. It doesn't matter if it's the petting zoo or the 4-H kids bringing in their prized pigs and goats to be judged. I love it all! As my Mom and I walked around the animals, I couldn't help but stop and pet each one as if I were the new proud owner. Each fair I fall in love with a new animal and this year it's the Pigmy Goat. They are the cutest little things and one day I am going to have one. Not sure where I'll put it or what I'll do with it.... 

Now, as much as I like fairs, I don't like rides. I can do the Ferris Wheel (go figure) and not be scared or get sick, but anything that spins in a circle, goes upside down or really fast.... forget it! 

Something that most fairs don't offer are tattoos. Since this one did, I jumped at the chance to get one. I've always wanted one so what did I have to lose? They only had one design and that was a cow. This sweet angel girl gave me a cow press on tattoo which I had on about two days. Just long enough for me to realize that maybe I am not quite ready for the real thing yet.

Last but not least, there was the yodeling competition. How much more fun can it get? There were two contestants and it took the judges twenty minutes to deliberate. I personally think there should have been a re-vote. I even got a little yodeling lesson. Next year I may just enter. It just goes to show, you never know what's going to happen at the Williamson County Fair.

Cowgirl Up...

It'll started when I received 'the' email. David Lee, a songwriter signed to UMPG was having a birthday party bash... Texas Style.

Texas barbeque, salsa, enchiladas, margaritas, and a mechanical bull. That's right... MECHANICAL BULL.

I knew when I saw the words MECHANICAL BULL, I had to go. I have wanted to ride one of those things since I saw "Sissy" in Urban Cowboy. I didn't think much of it until I got to the party and my co-workers, boss, friends and some hot guys (who I later met and will withhold names) were there. As I walked down the driveway and into the crowd, I made a bee line for the food and margarita stand. I knew I was going to need some encouragement from Mr. Tequila for 'the ride.' With my FIRST margarita in hand, I wandered over by my co-workers. As I approached, the first question out of the big man's mouth was "So you gonna ride that thing?"
Suddenly, I wasn't feeling so confident, but I said I was going to ride, so by damn, I was going to ride. Hence, the reason I went back for Margarita #2. After margarita #2 the mechanical bull looked pretty timid. In fact, it looked more like a pussy cat so I mossied on over, handed Margarita #3 to my friend Frasier, took my shoes off and jumped up in the arena. By arena I mean a 10x10 area to safely fall once I've been bucked off. After Margarita #2 there now appeared to be two bulls, but I picked one to jump on and thankfully it was the right one. The guy started the rodeo music up, flipped the switch and I was off...... literally. I didn't last five seconds.



No way this cowgirl was giving up yet. I got up, brushed myself off and jumped back on. Needless to say, round two wasn't much better. As the crowd laughed and grew closer to the arena, I decided to give it one last go... not the best idea now that I have video footage of the event. Someone did me wrong somewhere along the way and if I ever find out who....... I'm gonna.............
There was a moment where the guy who controls the bull stepped away from the controls and was adjusting something underneath the contraption. He was probably plugging in more amps for my fat butt or so I heard someone say. All I know is I was ready to ride, ready to go, ready to rumble, but then... a Norah Jones song came on. And anyone who knows Norah Jones, knows her songs are slow, very slow. That's right, I was getting the Sissy treatment where she tried to get even with Bud by doing her seductive bull ride. Only, I didn't have a seductive bull ride. This is where I want to give the ladies a bit of advice. If you've never been on a mechanical bull (like me) any speed you go feels like you're flying b/c you're tilting every which way. So needless to say I had no clue what was going on. All in all it was a grand time and I would do it again in a heart beat, just not at the Norah Jones speed.



The next morning when I woke up, I could barely walk. My butt hurt so bad from that thing and I completely understand why real cowboys walk the way they do now.

One last thing... David, if you have a Christmas party I have two words for you... MECHANICAL REINDEER!

It's just a clipboard...

Why is it that when most of us see someone with a clipboard in the mall or on a street corner, we suddenly want to walk the other way, try to dodge them or need to be somewhere FAST? We rush by like we are speedy Gonzalez heading for the border. 

Two evenings ago I was in my yard doing a little weeding when I noticed him... the clipboard man. He was walking down my street. I admit, my first thought was "I've got to get in the house so he doesn't ask me any questions" so I picked up my weeds and my little digger and headed for the door. Then all of a sudden, half way across the yard, I stopped. It hit me. Why was I running from someone who wants my opinion? As an American I couldn't believe what I was doing. I was giving up my right and my opinion that someone fought very hard to obtain for me. Why? Because I didn't want someone to ask me a few questions about my thoughts? Anyone who knows me knows that I am ALWAYS more than happy to give my opinion! So... I marched back over to my weeding spot and sat back down... weeds and all in hand. I held my head high as he approached two houses before me, then my neighbors, but for some reason he skipped mine. As he walked by I waved politely. Maybe he didn't want to disturb me and the flowers, maybe he had a pattern he was following, but I know one thing. The next time I see someone on a street corner or in a mall ready to ask me some questions, I will surely answer because it's just my thoughts on a clipboard.  

First Post

Yep, this is my first post on here so I best make it a good one. I have a dot mac website, but felt the need for something more journal driven, so here I am. It may take me a little time to get the rhythm of this but I am throwing all caution to the wind. Stay tuned for more thoughts from the Ferris Wheel.