Oh the Weather Outside is FRIGHTFUL....

I had a pretty good Christmas with the in-laws (ALL OF THEM :)) in Idaho. We drove up and stopped to pick my sister-in-law Shannon up from Burley. The few days that we were there were fun, relaxing, and full of laughs. Christmas day was extremely laid back, and my MIL is a fabulous cook.

The weather was also bitterly COLD! It hung around 20 or lower while we were there. As a displaced (but still extremely proud) Texan, this was not enjoyable AT ALL. I hate, abhor, dislike, detest, loathe, have an aversion towards, recoil from the cold. I have thyroid disease that makes me all the more sensitive towards the extreme temperatures as of late. I don't like slipping on ice. I don't like shivering. I don't like hands so cold that it's hard to sign for my job. I don't like it when I see my precious puppy dog shivering from head to toe because it's cold outside......

I could go on about reasons why I don't like the cold but as of today I have a new one!

IT WAS SO COLD OUTSIDE THAT A PIPE BURST OUTSIDE OF OUR HOUSE AND PARTIALLY FLOODED OUR SECOND BEDROOM!

If I was much more of a swearing person (than I already am, much to my mother's disapproval) I could have cursed until I was blue in the face. The inconvenience of having to dig out our storage closet in search of the main water valve to the house wasn't enough. We had to clear out everything of value of the 2nd bedroom closet, and move furniture out of the way, and then spend 45 frickin' minutes trying to get water out of the carpet with our wet/dry vac. Oh and not to mention that we were without running water for about 4-5 hours. (This makes it very difficult to use the restroom, TMI I know) So that's the fun that we had today. Both Brandon and I had to cancel work appointments this evening because of the flooding festitivities at our house.

Okay, I am done venting now. I guess we are lucky that we rent instead of own, since it would have cost us money out the ying-yang to repair everything. We still can't move everything back because we have to wait for the carpet to dry.

I guess we could watch paint peel while we wait. Friggin cold.

Lovin' the Huggin'

It has been about 3 months or so since the boys left us to go live with their grandparents in Ohio. I have not really wanted to talk about it since it was really hard to see them go, though we know they are in a place where they are loved and safe.

I am not going to lie, those first several weeks were some of the HARDEST of my life. It has made both Brandon and I seriously question the thought of ever doing Foster Care again. It entailed much more heartache than we ever thought possible, more than ANY training class could ever prepare us for. We were incredibly blessed to have amazingly well-behaved boys. I have never seen a more obedient 2 year old than Hunter was. "Bubba" was one of the most beautiful little boys I have ever seen and one of the most happy. I can only hope that someday my own kids will be the tremendous joy that these two boys were, and most likely still are for their family they are with now.

One thing I knew for sure as soon as we found out they were to leave us, was that I wanted to get right back to work. I didn't want ANY time to myself sitting at home stewing in my heartache.

I was nervous about getting back in to interpreting. The only real interaction I had had with the Deaf community was mostly my husband, and a few Sundays spent visiting the Ogden Valley Deaf Branch. I felt rusty. I hadn't had my mind process information like it does for interpreting for nearly 10 months. I was terrified at the prospect of losing my skills/talent. I was afraid that my heart wouldn't truly be in it as it had before because I had experienced what it felt like to be a "stay-at-home" foster mom.

My last post included the words "tender mercies" in it. A profound tender mercy in my life is/has been has been the swift ease I have experienced in going back to work. My first week back to work was a little interesting as I worked out the kinks in my mind and coordination of signing and processing information. I prayed my heart out to my God in heaven that I would pick up pretty close to where I left off 10 months before. Those prayers were answered greatly. I got back in to the swing of things with relative ease. One of the coolest things was that clients were actually excited to see me come back. They would tell me they missed me. They welcomed me back. They hugged me. They caught me up on their lives since the last time I had seen them.

While I was thrilled in many ways to get back to work, it was difficult not to think about the boys. The simple human act of someone hugging me became a resonating influence on my broken heart. The Lord knew I needed this type of interaction during such a difficult period in my life. I am still dealing with things that come up that remind me of the boys, and a few tears are still shed here and there but the pieces of my heart are being put together again. For this I am so grateful.

Don't ever hesitate to give someone a hug. You NEVER know how it will affect them.

Tender Mercies, Answered Prayers

I have neglected to mention how my Savior has blessed me personally in the last few months, and decided it's better late than never.

My grandpa died this evening of heart failure. It was only last Thursday that I saw him and celebrated Thanksgiving with him. He looked so good, even though as a family we knew that the doctors had decided there was nothing else they could do to prolong his life. He was quite talkative, even getting around better than I would have ever known to expect. He talked sports with the male members of our family, even going as far as to joke about his beloved Denver Broncos, calling them the Denver Donkeys for their lack-luster performance as of late.

To be truthful, my relationship with my grandpa was a timid, simple one. I didn't know him as well as I would like to have known him. I remember seeing him as a little girl, making visits with my mom and sisters to see him and my step-grandma who preceded him in death. I know things such as he was an occupational para-trooper soldier in Japan after WWII. He had an 8th grade education, having grown up on a farm with wild brothers. He drove buses to support his family. He loved to play cards. He loved to play bingo. He smoked for many years and quit, which says a lot about his strength of character. He was a very simple person, living frugally, but happily for many years until my step-grandma Jo died when I was a freshman in high school. She was his soul-mate, and now he is with her.

About a year and a half ago, my mom and uncle moved him out to a assisted living center in Denver. During this time, my mom was able to get to know him better than ever. He was never a talkative person, but shared a lot about his life with my mom. My mom considers this time a true gift as she didn't know much about her dad until recently. The residents of the center where he spent his final days loved him. He loved chocolate, and loved sharing it with the staff and cafeteria people. As of late, he enjoyed Hershey's Bliss Chocolate, some of which he shared with me just last Thursday. There are stories of him handing out chocolate to the cafeteria cooks so they would make him omelets for breakfast, or to staff who helped clean his apartment.

I didn't have the ideal relationship with my grandfather, but he was a good, sweet, and caring man. I am grateful for the knowledge that he didn't suffer, and that his passing was a quick one. Prayers were answered that he would not suffer terribly or for a prolonged period of time.

He will be missed by everyone who knew him. I am grateful for what I do know of him, and know that he is finally with my grandma Jo, after all these years without her. I am grateful for the knowledge that the Gospel gives me. I know I will see him again. I know that someday he and I will be able to know one another better, and forge a relationship that we weren't able to have in this life.

My dad said that his passing was a peaceful one. It is this peace that only God and the Savior can provide. Though it is a sad time for my family, my heart is full.

Good Thing My Parents Didn't Name Me Grace...

This is too funny not to post about.

Last week I went and team interpreted with one of my favorite people at InterWest, Miss Dawn!

The building where we worked together had a secured elevator, the kind where you have to swipe your employee ID card to get both ON and OFF the elevator. This fact was unbeknownst to me because we were in a big group of people escorted down to the room where we would be working, so I didn't notice the escort swipe his ID card. When the appointment was over, Dawn stayed behind to work a little longer, because I had to leave early for another appointment. I pressed the button for the elevator, and the doors opened. I got in and pressed the floor I needed AND.....

NOTHING HAPPENED.

I pressed the button again. NADA.

I tried other floors. The elevator didn't budge, nor did any buttons light up.

I'm not a clausterphobe, but I started to panic. It was hot in the gol' durn thing, and I started to sweat from nervousness, and the fact that it was hot in there.

I tried the phone button to try and talk to someone, ANYONE. I got the stupid "We're sorry, this number had been disconnected or is no longer in service".

!!!!!!!!

What the $#@%?? It's not a phone line, it's a emergency call button to say "I'm stuck!"

My last resort was the alarm button, and by looking at my watch, I had been in there over 5 minutes and little did I realize I was crying! So I pressed the dumb thing and hoped for the best.

Then I heard a ding, and as the door opened I looked to see who my rescuer was, and lo and behold it was Dawn, who saw me with the panicked look on my face, and she started laughing....

Har Har. Go ahead, laugh all you want at my expense.


Then TODAY happened. I was leaving an appointment while walking down the stairs, talking to a client. I tripped over my pants and fell down 4-5 stairs. Unintentionally (I'm still working on this one) a four-letter word escaped my mouth in the process.

Heavens to Betsy, was I embarrassed.

After Nearly 5 Years.....A New Start

In 3 weeks, it will be 5 years since I have been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. Since that time, I have had shot after shot after shot of my life giving insulin every time I eat. I have roughly given myself 4-5 shots of Novolog insulin (the insulin I "shoot up" every time I eat) and 1 shot of Lantus (the insulin I take every night before bed). If you times 5-6 shots daily for 365 days of the year (you don't get weekends off from diabetes :)) times 5 years that is roughly 9,125 shots I have given myself. And you know what? I am ready for a change. I am sick of feeling like a walking pin cushion. I am ready for the funny stares in public places every time I pull out the syringe and a vial of insulin, to stop. I am not ashamed of my disease, seeing as how it is a part of who I am, just ready for a change. Seeing as how a cure isn't in the works right now, the change I am ready for is still a miracle in and of itself.

I am grateful to be a PWD (person with diabetes) during a time of medicine and amazing technological advancements. 100 years ago, the diagnosis of diabetes was more or less a death sentence; now it's not. People with diabetes live in time of hope, meaning a time where diabetes is a very liveable disease and SO not a death sentence. Part of this hope is the change that I am now ready for. I am choosing to start insulin pump therapy. The pump is something that I was very opposed to for a while, but now that I have been educated on the subject, I can't believe that I didn't at least look in to the idea sooner! The pump primarily works to function somewhat like a normal pancreas, and helps with better control of the diabetes. I love that with just a few pushes of a button, instead of shot after shot, I can give myself the insulin to get the energy I need from the food that I eat.

The pump enables diabetics to live a more normal, healthier life. A common myth of people who use pumps is that their diabetes is "serious" or "really bad". This is not the case. The pump just allows people who choose to use it to have a better handle of keeping blood sugar within range to avoid complications later in life.

For the last week I have been using a "trial" pump to see if I would like it. And I can't say enough positive things about it. I feel better, have the control that I have needed for so long, and feel more confident in being able to take care of myself. What more could I ask for? I am on my second "trial" pump right now, testing different types of pumps to see which one I want to get. I have a few days to try it and see how I like it, then I will make the decision. Then the fun of dealing with insurance will come. Hopefully it will all work out!

Here's to a new start with my diabetes.

Apple Pie, Couple of Cuties, and Quacks

Last weekend I made my first homemade apple pie. I got the recipe from my wonderful mother-in-law while we were in Idaho celebrating my father-in-law's (I call him What's-His-Bucket) 60th birthday. (Oh, I will post some belated pictures of this) And it turned out really well.
I went over to my sister Katie's house last night since Brandon was working late, and I was going to try to help my sister do her hair for her formal dinner that she has this coming Friday night. I was over there for quite a while and was able to spend some time tickling and loving on my adorable niece and nephew. The cutie above is my 4 year old niece Janae. I love this little girl because of her spunk and sweet little voice. Oh and she has one of the greatest laughs you have ever heard.
This is my 6 year old nephew Joshua. He is my buddy. He loves to laugh, play practical jokes, and is just an all around good natured little guy.
Before you jump to any assumptions as to my sanity/state of mind, let me explain. My sister Katie and I are a dangerous duo, but add my oldest sister Jenny in to the mix, and we are just plain nuts. Sadly Jenny wasn't able to be here for our trip to Target last night, but Katie and I subjected the poor shoppers at the Layton Target to quite a show. Probably from about the moment we walked in to the store, we were laughing. We walked around looking at the clothes, when we came to the pajama area and found the ugliest pajamas I've ever seen. Katie joked that they were definitely what you might call "mood killers" or something you would wear if you have no desire for "pillow time". We were seriously laughing so hard I was nearly in tears. Then we walked around to the purse/wallet/scarf department and found some of the BUTT-UGLIEST winter hats and scarves you've ever seen. The hat above gave us some laughs, let alone the stupid goofy expression on my face. Katie tried on the hat below, and the first reaction out of my mouth was that she looked like a retarded Christmas Elf-hence the expression on her face as well. We were laughing so hard I wondered if any store staff would show up to escort us out of the store.
One thing that is GUARANTEED when hanging out with my sister is that you will laugh. It had to have been a combination of being tired, bored, and kidless. I love my sisters. I couldn't ask for more funny, witty, thoughtful, crazy people to be my sisters. Even though we are a bunch of quacks.

Occupational Hazards

Most people who know me know that I love my job. I don't sit at a desk all day, staring at a computer. I don't have the personality for that. I love working with people and doing something different every day.

And yes, while I love my job....there are some interesting "occupational hazards". One that distinctly comes to mind is having clients that seem to be numb from the brain down when it comes to personal hygiene/cleanliness. I have had one client in particular that once told me the water had been shut off in his/her apartment for the last 3 months, so he/she hadn't bathed since then. This same client picks his/her nose with his/her long nasty nails, withdraws his/her finger to inspect it, then wipes it on his/her clothes. I have had this person more than once and working with this person makes my skin crawl. (typing the gender confusing words is to somewhat protect the client) There are not words to describe the tumult of things my stomach does when smelling, seeing, or interacting with this person. But it all comes down to one thing: this person has just as much a right to an interpreter as the next person who is Deaf. He/she has just as much right to having access to things as you or I do. This just happens to be a client who tests my abilities to be kind and respectful to all of God's children/creatures. Whether a person is appallingly rude to others, smells like what comes out of an elephant's derrier, smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, or what have you, it is not my responsibility to judge, just to be a conduit of communication between a hearing consumer and a Deaf client.

Outside of this, the other day I was interpreting for a client that had me make a rather unpleasant remark to one of their constituents. I've even had to yell at myself because a Deaf person got upset with me for a very trivial reason that was out of my control. I have had to say some of the most unpleasant things to some of the nicest people on the behalf of someone who is Deaf.

With all of this said, here is a disclaimer or two: I VERY rarely have these kinds of situations come up, and in a weird and twisted way, it keeps my job interesting-to say the least.

So with all of these so-called "occupational hazards" I still love my job. Instead of sitting on a bench somewhere doing some "people watching" and watching interesting folks from a distance, I work in an occupation that makes me one of those people that actually interacts with those weirdos or truly interesting people. So bring on the weird ducks, the whack jobs, the complainers, the people who don't bathe but every blue moon....I am strangely grateful for their acquaintances because they teach me and remind me that there truly are all kinds of people in this world.