What makes us happy

I can't help but wonder why we do the things we do.  Why do we stay in jobs that make us miserable?  Why do we hold onto relationships that make us do or think bad or negative things?  Why do we do the mundane everyday tasks in the name of being responsible?

2014 has begun to be a real eye opener for me.  I have chosen to do a project-a-month, whether it little or big, to make my soul happy.  Not my heart.  My soul.  

After the year is over, I may share what I have done.  And I may not.  I haven't decided how I want to proceed with that yet.  I know that on January 1st of this year, I wanted to re-enroll in school and finish my degree.  That is no longer a desire for me.  At least not at this time.   I pushed that "dream" off until the fall but the closer and closer we get to fall, the more I think that what I really want to do...the things that make me heart happy....soul happy...don't come from a college degree.

I am trying to get my ducks in a row.  I am doing what I can, with what I have...and slowly getting there.  I have a dream.  And I will achieve it.  Just give me a little time.

The other day I was thinking about some of the jobs that I have had in my lifetime.  I have been a babysitter.  I have made cones, shakes, food for people.  I have worked in retail...several times.  I have worked as a switchboard operator.  I have worked in factories.  Factories where I didn't have a clue what I was doing but just did what I was told.  Factories where I liked what I was doing, but didn't want to do it for the rest of my life.  I have worked in nursing homes, in private homes.  I have cleaned toilets, scrubbed floors, emptied trash cans.  I have washed dishes, waited tables.  I have taken orders from people that think they "know better" than me.  I have held many positions where the general public has told me exactly HOW to do my job; as if they actually knew.  

And then I stopped and evaluated my current job. 
The work that I do is some rewarding stuff.....sometimes.  
The work that I do is stressful.....sometimes.  
The work that I do is fun.....sometimes. 
The work that I do is important.  Always.  I don't take it for granted and I don't ever think it's anything less than what it is.  

But is it what I want to do forever?

Before working in my current field, I was a home health aide.  I have to say that THAT was the ideal job for me.  THAT is what made me happy.  THAT is what made me complete.  I didn't work any weekends and I rarely had to stay past 5:00pm on any given day.  Who could ask for anything better, huh?

And the reasons I left that job for my current job is this:

My boss could not be pleased.  No matter how hard anybody worked, it wasn't enough for her.  If she had to be called on for anything, it was because we "screwed up."  To call on her meant that we couldn't do our job without help; that we were right next to useless.

Now...I realize that with any job comes someone in the form of authority that everyone is going to have something to complain about.  I'm not one of your normal peeps though.  (I know that doesn't surprise you)  What really made me want to take full-time hours with this woman was her strictness; her get-it attitude.  I like rules.  I like being held accountable for my actions.  I like honesty and I like someone to tell me that I'm doing a good job when I'm doing a good job.  I also like to be taught one way...the right way...and by one person.  When it comes to a person's health, you shouldn't be messing around with how thirteen others think this way is best.  No, let's get trained by one person and everyone do it the same way.

Reason second reason why I left that job is:

The daily drive went from 100 miles per day to 10 miles per day.  Granted, I only drove 30 miles one way to work, we were constantly going from one place to another to another to another.  And sometimes we were driving clients to their appointments, which meant more drive time.  Sometimes in the client's car, sometimes in the work car, and when it was just me going from place to place, driving in my car.  And guess what!!!  They paid mileage for traveling in between places.  They didn't bother to tell me that though, until the day before my last day so guess what I did???  Yep, I went from the beginning and wrote out EVERY single place I had been and how many miles it was and how long it took me to drive it.  I was not a happy camper when I realized that nobody had bothered to tell me this!  No wonder I wasn't making any dang money!!!  Grrr

The 3rd reason:

Simple.  Insurance and benefits.  Good insurance.  So I could go see my doctor on a regular basis and not have to worry as much about the costs of my blood work, etc.  And who doesn't love a paid vacation every year, right?  Even if you don't go anywhere, it's nice you can take that time to do some things you want to do and get paid to do it.

So there you have it.  I left, basically, my dream job...
to trade one asshole boss for another set of bosses that didn't really care...
a few less miles on my car M-F 8-5 for sometimes one weekend off a month, no set schedule and...
to visit my doctor on a regular basis.

BIG DEAL

I am now at a job where there is no direction, no leadership, no consequences, and where I feel like a group of 3rd graders would have more control and/or power over any situation.

Sounds like I hate my job, huh?  Well, I don't.  And the reason I don't is because I still have a couple of people there that make me realize just how much I like doing it.  Isn't life supposed to be about fun?  Isn't that what we always wanted?  A job that is fun?  A job that we look forward to going to everyday because it puts a smile on our faces?  

I wonder where, along the line, I have lost my way.  I wonder when it stopped being fun and started just be a burden?  I wonder how I am going to get "it" back?  How am I going to let loose of the stuff that drives me crazy and just be?

How do I get back to the fun???

Until next time...thanks for reading!

There was a boy

There once was a boy.  And I was so in love with him that he came before every person on this earth.  This boy is very close to my heart even though I have not seen or talked to him since he was probably 2 years old.  He is now 15 years old and I have recently friended him on Facebook and STILL haven't gotten the nerve up to actually "talk" to him.  

I just shake my head at myself sometimes and wonder what is going on in this big empty head of mine.

During my first marriage, through some really good friends, my then-husband Carlos, and myself, became acquainted with a young gal named Lenni.  She was so nice and so beautiful and had just given birth to a little boy named Esteban.  Of course, you know me.  I fell in love with him the moment I laid eyes on him.  

I will have to dig some pictures out and post them one of these days.  

Over the course of the couple years we kept in touch, we would go to Dodge City, KS and pick up little Esteban and bring him back to Iowa for a visit and so his momma could have a break and do her own things.  Sometimes for a week or two, at a time.  We thoroughly enjoyed having them in our lives and never ever got tired of having him...or his beautiful momma, around.  

As with many long-distance relationships, we eventually lost touch with each other and life took it's own turns for all of us. 

Obviously, Carlos and I divorced.  Lenni married along the way and I believe has a little family now that keeps her busy.  

I saw her on a mutual friend's Facebook, so I sent her a friend request.  I figured the worst she could do was ignore it, right?  But she didn't!  She accepted and even remembered me!  That really made my day.  It made my heart happy to know that she was "reachable" again.  Even if Facebook is the only way we would ever correspond, I am thankful for that.

Of course, I had lost count of how many years it had been since we had seen her and Esteban and she shared several pictures with me, of him.  Current pictures, that just about made me cry to see.  

He's a teenager and still as beautiful as he was the day I first laid eyes on him.  Upon seeing him "grown up," I was flooded with memories of having a birthday party for him in our old house in Gravity.  Ashley, Lindsay and some of their friends came.  My mom was there.  Cindy came.  I can't remember who all showed up but I know we had a lot of fun that day.  Esteban had the time of his life.  We had cake and he got lots of presents.

Of course, we didn't have that celebration ON his 1st birthday.  I believe we had it the weekend before because we took him back for his actual birthday day party in Dodge City.  We had taken him and purchased a white satin shorts tuxedo for his baptism...that just never happened, for whatever reasons.  And he was a growing baby boy so he didn't stay in that little tux for very long!  But it was sure cute on him.

I loved taking him and showing him off to anybody and everybody.  He was a happy baby that smiled a lot and played well by himself.  And smart!  He picked up on E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!!!

So back to present day...

I wanted to send him a friend request on Facebook but didn't want to come off as a crazy, desperate woman lurking on young, innocent boys.  Well...at least not crazier than what I really am! -_-  I asked his mom if she thought he would add me and she thought I was silly, of course.  She told me to send it and see what happens.  If he had any questions, she would tell him who I was...if he hadn't figured it out. 

So I did it.  I closed my eyes and clicked "send friend request."  And it wasn't long and he had accepted.  Oh the happy in my heart was amazing.  It's funny...just when you think you can't be any happier about finding someone again...your heart can swell even bigger and prouder than before...when they accept to be your friend.

Yes, I understand this is just Facebook.  But this is huge.  At least for me.  This little guy...this young man...holds so many special memories for me.  So many tears I have cried for the heartaches he and his mother have had to endure in life.  So much pride that he has turned out to be a responsible young man that values the important things in life.  Like his momma.  And his whole family.  

Guess what?  I haven't had the courage to even send him a message yet.  I don't know if I would even know where to start.  What to say.  I mean...without sounding like a crazed, desperate stalker woman!  He hasn't said anything to me either.  I wonder who he thinks I am.  I wonder if he knows the love that I have always held for him.

Sometimes I will just go to his Facebook page and look at his pictures.  I think a little part of me does it out of guilt because I feel like I let him, and his mother, down.  

I should have kept in touch.  I should have been helping them out along the way.  Along the whole way.  Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I should try to make up for what I have missed out on but how can I really do that?  

What am I supposed to say to this kid?  

I'm sorry?

Let's start over?  Is that even possible, really?

I can't help but mentally kick myself over and over for letting the time and the distance get in the way.  

Why wasn't I trying to keep in contact with these people that obviously meant so much to me?

Why do we let relationships fail?  Why do we, as people, let distance decide how involved we are going to be in someone's lives?  Or am I the only one that does this???

I haven't yet told Quintin about Esteban, but plan to this weekend.  I am going to get the photo books out and show him this baby boy that I fell in love with so long ago and that I have "found" again.  Knowing Q, he will tell me to go with my heart and do what I feel I have to do.  

I wish I knew what that was.  Any suggestions?

Until next time...thanks for reading and Happy Spring!!!

A little humor

Who doesn't need a little humor in their life, right?  I mean, we can all use something else to laugh about...to smile about; and if it's at the expense of someone who is willing to put it all out there...well, even better.

The other night, Q and I went to Creston and met Kathy, Jackie, Zach and Lynn for dinner at the Pizza Ranch.  We were having a good ole time talking about everything under the sun.  Laughing at things we probably shouldn't be laughing at and well, then it got around to telling stories.  

And who doesn't like a good fart story???  Well, I have 'em, don't you worry!  If there's anything I'm good at without even trying...it's passing gas.  Cutting the cheese.  Ripping ass.  

One night, Q and I had went through the drive-thru of a Burger King and of course, I always get onion rings.  They are my biggest weakness in life.  I truly love them.  So, Q places his order next and asks what is on their angus burger.  I don't know why I always include this part in the story but I just think it's hilarious.  "We don't have angus burgers here."  I giggle and tell him that's McDonalds that sells those.  "Well, what's this thing on the menu then?"  Oh boy, I forgot to put his reading glasses on him this morning.  "Angry burger?" comes the reply from the menu board.  Of course that was it.  Can't wait till he gets his new glasses hehehe.

So he orders his angry burger and proceeds to order onion rings and iced tea.  Neither of which he plans to eat.  He tells me that I can have his onion rings and iced tea.  I'm not even going to say a word because that was the best present he could have given me.  I do love those things.  

Now.....I need to interject here with some pretty personal information.  As much as I love onion rings and smile the whole time...the onion rings don't have the same love for me.  

So....several hours later...we are home and I am tired.  It had been a long, emotional day for us and I needed to sleep.  I go upstairs to bed and am laying there, when it hits me...yup, and it came out with teeth.  Long, sharp, gnarly teeth.  Ready to bite at the first thing that gets in it's way.  After about 10 minutes of this living nightmare, I text Q, who is downstairs....."You can come upstairs and watch tv if you want."  He doesn't get this option very often so he takes advantage whenever he can.  I hear his footrest go down on his recliner.  I hear him let the dogs out to go potty before coming to bed.  

Then I hear him coming up the stairs.  And Buddy runs in and jumps on the bed and immediately gets under the blankets.  I say to Q, "You might want to grab the air freshener before you come in."  HE WAS WARNED FOLKS!  It was too late though.  He was bitten by the teeth.  "What the hell is going on in here?  What died?"

Remember those onion rings you said I could have?

I figured it wouldn't be long before Buddy would come crawling out, blue from lack of air...after all, he IS under the blankets with me...snuggled up to my backside...but he didn't.  I'm not sure if he was just passed out under there, or if he thought if he waited long enough, onion rings would come out the shoot!  

Of course, when I told this story to Beth at work, she nearly busted a gut laughing.  She couldn't breathe herself and she wasn't even at my house to smell it!!!  She can't pass up a good fart story so I try to keep her in stitches whenever possible.

When I was telling this story at Pizza Ranch though, the whole table of us just busted out laughing so hard that I'm pretty sure we cleared the place...again, not from any smell...but from our loud, boisterous laughing.  In tears, Lynn says she loves this family.  I'm not sure she knows what she's getting into but.........heck, the more the merrier.

My first husband and I were laying in bed one night and I ripped one of the loudest, most obnoxious farts in my life.  Carlos, the first husband, jumped out of bed and swung open the closet door so fast that I didn't understand what he was doing.  "What is going on?"  He is jumping around the room like a monkey by now.  "Someone is in the closet.  Did you hear it?"  Well by the end of that sentence I have laughed myself off the bed and onto the floor...gasping for air as I assured him nobody was in the house with us, just my butt telling stories behind my back.  

And I haven't lived that one down yet.  Of course, he couldn't wait to tell it at the next family dinner.  My family is so twisted!  

Again...loud, obnoxious laughter coming from our table.  More people are moving away from us.  

I think what started this whole stinkin' conversation was me telling a story that a co-worker had shared.  He and his wife were in the Fareway store one afternoon.  He had the day off from work and had taken her into town to do some shopping.  This is as he tells it:

"There we were standing in line and every person in that damn store was a woman.  All but me.  The checkers were women.  The baggers were women.  And every other damn customer in that store was a woman.  I didn't think too much of it until I realized...at the same time all these other women realized...that my wife had ripped a SBD (silent but deadly).  She is just standing there cool as cucumber and every woman in that place looked at me as if to say "Well you dirty, nasty pig!  How rude!"  We were no further than 2 steps out that door when my wife busted a gut.  I told her to get her stinky ass in the truck, we were going home!  She can do her own shopping from now on because I doubt they are going to let ME back in there anytime soon!"

Oh yes, I do love a good fart story.  I have a million of them.  

The reason I am even writing this stinking blog is because during conversation with the group, I said my blogs had been pretty serious lately and I need to get back to the humor of it all.  Quintin pipes up with "Write about me petting Budha the other night in bed."  And if you know my husband, you know he doesn't talk softly.  So everyone in the place...without being too noticable about it...was on the edge of their seat, to hear the story.

I had been home that night and Q came home from work about 07:00.  When he got into bed, I woke up enough to have a conversation about how his night was, even though my eyes weren't yet open.  So there we were, just laying in the bed, talking.  All of a sudden, Q says very loudly, "Dammit Budha, I'm going to get you a collar because this whole time I have been rubbing what I thought was your head, was your balls!"  

Pizza flew everywhere and all the kids' eyes in the place were the size of half-dollars.  Not sure how any of us stayed upright on our chairs but I know tears were shed.  And that's when Lynn suggested maybe I should blog about something funny like farts.  

It's never dull when I'm in a group.  Never.  Maybe we should get together sometime soon and have dinner.  Whaddya think???