♫ ♪ Why you have to go and make things so complicated? ♪ ♫

So here I am totally excited about the whole going back to school thing, I mean I am so excited that I'm actually awake super early filling out all these federal forms! Mostly cause I'm under the idealic impression I'll more than likely qualify for something ( I can dream ) even if it's just paying for the fuel to get to class.

So I fill out a PIN request like they ask, then spend an hour answering all their questions. At the end I'm asked to put in the PIN. I do. 

#1FAIL!

Bring up the LIVE tech support person, she asks for my SSN and all this other stuff. I don't care how secure those pages are, Gimme a phone number. So I call it. 35 Minutes later I find out that not only did it not take my PIN, but it made one up in addition to telling FAFSA that I was still a Cali resident. 

#2FAIL!!

Update it as much as I can, but it still won't accept my app. FAFSA support solution of the day was to use a computer that actually USES IE (hell no I like FireFox) and has a printer.

Hopefully this little setback isn't a preview of the road ahead.

And with that ~ I'm going to bed!!!

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How much luckier do you want to get?

This year is 2007.

This month is July (seventh month)

Today is the seventh.

AND Today is Saturday (the seventh day of the week)

Earlier it was 7:07 am.

And nothing special happened. I just ate breakfast with my parents and my grandma. Lucky Me :)

Couldna had a crappier start

So I was packing up my bags last night for a weekend @ my parents house and really couldn't decide what I wanted to bring. I could't decide if I wanted to bring Ms. Cinders or not either.
This morning I overfed Cinders, gave her a large bowl of water and made sure her box was clean. I finished throwing some stuff in my pink suitcase, grabbed the stuff I borrowed from my brother (to return when I get back on Sunday) and left the house.

Normally I listen to the traffic report, but heard nothing out of the ordinary or unusual. I was getting annoyed with the radio stations on my way to work because they were all playing the 'best of shows' which involved old Paris Hilton Jokes and the other local 'hot' stuff that was over two months old. I realize around 7:58 that I'm STILL on the road and NO WHERE near work, so I scan for traffic reports on my car. Nothing. Just lame repeater talk radio and absolutely NO music.

LAME.

To top it off, I went to make the phone call that I'm stuck in traffic and guess what: No Phone. It's a home charging. I'm going out of town. I'm NOT going back home LATER to get my phone. My camera, its packed in my suitcase in the trunk.

Great.

@ 8:20 I am STILL sitting in traffic on the SAME Tollway. I've moved no more than 500 feet and I'm noticing that behind about 20 cars there are NO more cars. They're being forced off the Tollway by policemen. Some of the cars at the end of the line are driving in reverse just to get off the Tollway as well. If I were to do that I'd have to drive over 1000 feet and I'm not risking a ticket. I'm already late. Since I don't have my phone I don't really know (aside from just driving EAST) how to get to work form here. Plus there are still about 10-15 cars behind me.

Phoey. I'll just sit here. And go forward. Slowly. I screamed and shook my steering wheel. Maybe nobody noticed. All I had was Tool in my CD player. I played it loud.

I finally get off the tollway a little after 9. I'm sure lots of people in the country know about the rain in North Texas. Even on the radio during the non 'best of' repeats they said that the flooding area covers enough land to be the size of Mississippi.

I mean WOW. As if Texas isn't big enough, now over half of it seems to be under water. They said California was gonna fall into the Ocean. Guess the Texans beat 'em to it.
Here comes the HIGHLIGHT of my morning.

I'm about a mile away from work, sitting at a dead stop. I'm not one to have people drive around with me in cars, but I do occasionally have passengers. I've been teased on more than one occasion about the distance I leave between the car in front of me and myself. (Usually about 1/2 of the car I am driving's length).

It's been raining on and off all two hours of my morning. The roads are wet. The Dooley in front of me is sitting @ a stop, I'm stopped. I look behind me and hear a screeching. I can see in in my rear view. I have no where to go, there are cars to my left and a car about to pass me on my right. I take my foot off the break because I've heard its better that way.

SMACK!!!!

That guy had to have been going at least 20mph when he hit me. My car went forward at least five feet, or so it felt. I'm lucky the airbags didn't deploy and there wasn't more damage to MY car. His car is another story.

(I'm going to have to update more later) (my weeked starts now) (please let it get better)

Knowing where you are.

I've been in Texas now since late November but I still can't get used to my new area code. Everytime I'm asked my phone number I usually always say "619... I mean 214". You would think that after seven months I would not still be doing this. I havn't done it on my address, so why am I having trouble with the phone number?

Socially acceptable deviant behaviour.

Do you think there really is such thing?

Ever have one of those days where no matter what you try to do right, everything and everyone just seems out to get you?

I woke up late this morning, about 55 minutes late which meant that I had about 35 minutes to get ready. Lucky for me I took a shower the night prior. I attempt to blow my hair out straight and again my hair refused to cooperate.

Just great. I pull it back in a classic chignon and walk out the door.

Just why does my hair want to pull temper tantrums? What can I do to bribe my hair into submission? I like the new look and all, but I just want my hair to do what I want it to and not what it wants to. Either way, it's still healthy and that's all that matter right?

Right around lunch time I figured out why my hair was being childish. Me and the ladies step outside and guess what was waiting? None other than my friends the rainclouds. That explains the puffy frizzies. The second the ladies and I step in the car is when the rain comes down. So we're all discussing where to go and agree on 'cheap mexican'. The funny thing about the Big D are the neighborhoods: On one block you'll see homes worth over a mil, the next block over are homes and business with bars on windows and are completely worn down. However the property they sit on is worth a very pretty penny.

I think they should do like San Diego did to the neighborhoods on the 15, which is pay them off, tear them down and rebuild. Everyone I've spoken to has said how much the neighborhoods around my office have changed in the past 20 years. For me they're just not changing fast enough.

We pull into the parking lot of the restaurant. It's full of potholes, bars are all over the windows, some of the building brick surfaces are full of scars with huge bits missing from them. As I walk past a few of the other businesses I notice all kinds of little things that make me think I'd just rather not be here in non daylight hours. Even San Ysidro never made me feel this unsafe.

In the restaurant, it smells like my grandma's kitchen. Ok, it's not so bad now and all of a sudden my tension seems to go away. We take our seats, order our food and OMG it's delicious!!!

----

So back at work the rain continues. From what I remember on the morning news, the storms were way north of us so where did they come from?

Today the sky didn't turn dark, but I did get a nice lightning show along with the thunder acoustics. My boss asked me if I had ever seen lightning. I had to admit to him that lightning and thunder are pretty rare in SD. I grew up here in Texas, but as a kid I never stopped to appreciate the storms and most of the time I ran around the streets kicking up puddles of water.

I went back to my desk and about an hour later I look outside again and guess what? Not a cloud in the sky! When I started to go home it was HOT again: 105. Ugh!!

In an unrelated topic, did you hear about Paris Hilton's new catch phrase: "That's Holy!"

I'm sitting on the highway, and it's going slower than usual when this car in front of me SLAMS on their breaks. Shit.

I'm sure all the cars in front of him slowed down too, but com'on gimme a break. Traffic reports are stating that west / east bound north routes are at a standstill. Great. It took me about an hour and a half to get home and by the time it was all over I was beyond irritated. Even with my agro music it didn't help. Stop Go, Stop Go.

I wanted to push my magic button that would bring out my mega car crunching tires or better yet, transform my car into a helichopper and fly away home. Best thing to do was go home and play some Grand Theft Auto.

Triggers

So this evening, I watched the second episode of that show "Army Wives" on Lifetime and there is a scene where the main character and newest army wife takes her new husband on their 'honeymoon' to Morocco (she's trying to learn about the middle east).

For some reason seeing the scene that took place triggered a smell in the back of my head that I can't recall for at least 10 years, if not more. Isn't it weird how seeing something like that can trigger such a powerful memory ~ that you smell what you remember?

You're all crazy.

Ok, so it's 6.6.7 now but there was definitely a mix of crazy in the air. My normally easygoing laid back boss had issue on issue land on his desk this morning. The topper was a crazy woman that called in then managed to find her way into our building and onto our floor and wait outside his office.

Talk about a woman on a mission.

Turns out she was an employee in another building and she claimed that someone from our department was harassing her. Crazy. She was so distraught with her claims that at one point I even felt uncomfortable. I apologized.. why I don't know, I did nothing wrong but I apologized anyway for her inconvenience and she went back to where ever it was that she came from.

Things got so escalated that HR was called in and they even contacted me to make a statement. I made sure to answer yes and no to their questions because anything I said could possibly cause someone to not have a job. Not something I want on my conscience.

After all that drama, the day is over faster than normal. I head for my car and start on my way home when my cel phone rings. It's a 619 San Diego number. This girl starts harassing me. She knew more about me than I knew about her, so I hung up on her.

The freaks were coming out of hiding today. Gotta check the moon.

It's almost that time again.

I started my 365 day photo journal today. I've had so much on my mind for the past two weeks which has caused a great amount of anxiety and unwanted stress. I finally discovered what I think might be the problem.

On 6/6/6 I had my car all packed up to go back to Cali. What a terrible day to make that kind of decision, if you believe in omens such as those. I don't think I do, but after the wild ride that is my life maybe I shouldn't dismiss them so quickly.

Do you hear LL Cool J's song? I do. What about think about that movie with the spooky stuff? Maybe?

I was talking to my cousin Mannie the other day and he and I are such different places than we were a year ago. We're both working and both single. Last year we had no clue where our money was coming from and we each had out set of enabling significant others. But not anymore. As we had our conversation during our reflection moments I think about how much he's grown and how much I've grown. Lots of things that were pointed out to me that were easily dismissed now scream for attention.

One of my coworkers has a son that plays little league. She just told me that her son might get a chance to play in his divisions world series. This is a huge ordeal and can end up costing lots of money, not to mention time. She rolled up her sleeves and showed me her farmer tan lines, I recommended more 50+ proof sunblock and to wear tanktops since it cuts back on the farmer look. Listening to the pride she has in talking about her son, I can't help but think about a girl that was special to me at one point in my life.

When I was out this weekend, I saw two preteen girls in their softball uniforms and flipflops. They were wearing the shorts and tank style uniforms but still had their fastpitch emblem obvious on their jersey.

Seeing those girls, I had to take a minute to catch my breath and blink.

Why? I don't want children, there were times that I would vocally make clear just how adamant I was in my displeasure in not wanting to be around that crowd. So why was seeing those girls so hard? I've read you push away those closest to you, and I see people in my family do it all the time. I did it all the time, I'm sure I STILL do it.

***

Tomorrow is the anniversary that I packed up my car, and thought that I could make it work. By the time November came around the damage done was so great and the words and exchanges made were so damaging that saying "I'm sorry" will never be enough.

It wasn't even five months that it came to the point of not even speaking. We couldn't even stand to look at one another, much less exchange words.

I remember not feeling right about leaving my aunt Chris's house. She cried. She didn't want me to leave. Now she won't even talk to me and I'm living back in the area. I wonder why. I've tried to email her and call her but the exchanges are awkward so I gave up. I shouldn't feel this way about her because one day she might not be there anymore for me. I lost my grandpa. I spend as much time with my grandma as I can.

I found out her son, my cousin was in a terrible motorcycle accident and nobody in the family told me. What if he had died? He was hit by a car and not wearing a helmet (hurray for Texas laws) and is not currently working and recovering from a bone infection. I found all this about because I read his EX-Wifes Blog. Just great.

They didn't tell Mannie either.

***

When I was driving back to San Diego, I had to stop in Tuscon because it was getting to hot for me and my car. It was about 103 by 1pm. I stopped to get gas even though I didn't need it. I called Sam and asked him to find a hotel for me in somewhere along the 10. I mean he had access to the internet and maps, how difficult could my request have been? I was trying to save money and didn't want to drive from hotel to hotel checking rates.

He made things difficult because he was stressed at having a tax auditor in the house with him. I got flustered and hung up on him because I didn't know the area any better than he did. At that moment I REALLY wanted to just turn around and head back. At that moment I KNEW nothing between us had changed and if anything had only gotten worse.

I was only 6 hours away from San Diego. I had already been traveling for 15 hours almost straight.

If only right? I woulda saved us both five months of misery.

***

I guess my point is, I want to see what this year will be like. I've been forced to start over. Circumstances are not as easy as I made them out to be on paper, or electronically. Life has been hectic and changes have been fast and overwhelming at times. I'm sure some bridges have been burned and hopefully some of them can be repaired.

I don't know what's ahead of me, but I know where I've been. Hopefully that will give me some incite on what to avoid in the path ahead.

I have a weakness and it's raspado's

Originally uploaded from flickr.

I blame my brother for this purchase. One day I was chilling on the couch watching TV @ his place and him and Gracie come home from Wal-Mart. They're unloading their bags and my brother is totally excited about his slushie maker.

He's a little disappointed when he gets it out of the box because the ice tub is only 1/2 of what it looks like in the picture but he doesn't let this deter him. He loads up his slushie maker with ice and twists the nob.

A few minutes later he's poured the syrup over his shaved ice (and I asked if he could make me one too) so we're both enjoying the slushee treats.

A few days later, I had to buy some toothpaste or something @ Target and saw they had a small stash of slurpee flavors themselves, so I bought a 3 pak of Lemon-Lime, Grape and Strawberry Banana. After that I pretty much made myself 2 or 3 slurpees a day.

The weekend I moved out, I was joking around with him and said I was gonna pack up his slurpee maker and he could come over when he had a slushee craving. He said him and Gracie were planning on getting me a slushee maker for my place, but I just spoiled my surprise (too bad I couldn't wait for their gift).

The same weekend Daniel was helping me move, we were wandering around the Wal-Mart in my neighborhood and saw their HUGE stash of slurpee mix, he took home some more for his collection, I passed them up cause I had nothing to drink it with... until now.

So today I'm wandering around with a specific budgeted shopping list @ Target when I see in spanish, in huge hard to miss pink letters: RASPADOS ¡Prepare sus bebidas congeladas favoritas en minutos! Disfrute de granizados, raspados y bebidas congeladas con su soda, jugo o fruta favorito.

Dude use a translator, or common sense to figure out what it said.

Budget be damned. I brought this baby home with me along with 3 new syrupy flavors. I've had two already today. Someday I'll head back over to Wal-Mart and raid their slurpee flavor stash. I'm sure, in fact I know I can make the syrup myself and I can make it better.

When I made my first slurpee in my apartment, I had this memory triggered from last year where I blended some canned pineapple, maraschino cherry juice, pineapple and sunkist soda and lemon zest with some simple syrup. I swear I made the biggest mess but even after freezing it I think I figured out how to make my own homemade sherbert. Two days later it was still that not quite solid but not quite frozen consistency.

Also seeing the term raspado on that box reminded me of when Sam would go to that little mexican taco shop near our house and he would bring me back my lemon lime raspado and my shrimp/octopus cocktail. Damn I loved those things, now I can make my own!

Sweet!

Blood Donation

I was watching my emails come in one day at work and I see they are having a blood drive in the near future.

I think of all the blood my grandpa lost.

I think about my cheesy little Red Cross certificates telling me how much blood I've donated. (about 2 gallons)

I get scared they'll send me away because my iron count is so low. It's happened before, on top of a myriad of other mishaps when I donate my time and fluids.

I see there is an e-sign-in sheet an fill out their form. I scheduled myself for a 12:15 appointment on their blood mobile. Time passes quickly and next thing you know the time to donate is here.

Too bad the day I donated, I wore a skirt.... The good news is nobody was in the blood mobile when I walked in (which changed quickly).

While I sat in the round chair I could feel the blood moving thru the tube as it left my arm. Before I sat down, they asked me who I wanted to donate my blood to, I wrote down any grandpa or trauma woman. I didn't think about it until later to maybe donate some to Jessica. I don't even know if she's my blood type, but if I happen to donate again before she's a mommy, I'll make the attempt to leave some for her too.

I finished up without feeling sick or spitting out any projectiles. Good thing I ate at Freeb!irds right? That steak burrito helped boost up my iron to a 13. Their minimum requirement is a 12.5 which is higher than San Diego which is a 12. Honestly I've never seen my iron so high. Its usually hovering between 9.5-12.

They sent me back to my cube with loads of sugar and juices and of course my Tshirt. It's retro yellow / brown Padre colors.

They also patched up my arm in my favorite neon green tape.

The rest of the day I've been super tired and took a nice long nap when I got home.

I <3 Duke!

I usually let the doggies out when I come home, most of the time because of the weather the backyard is usually muddy which they then bring back into the house. Then I have to leave them in the kitchen until I feel their paws are nice and dry to come out and hang with the human(s)

Loss involves the absence of . . . grandpas

I was told very late today that you can never really get over losing somebody, you only learn how to live with the loss. The reason these words were said is because around 2:30pm CST today my grandpa gave up his earthly struggles and his existence is now in another less painful place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have an understanding and appreciation of the outlook on life of those that are spiritual but no matter how many times somebody (hospital staff, family, friends, people that knew my grandpa) tell *me* they are sorry, it will not bring dear grandpa back. I am not sorry he is gone because he no longer has to suffer. Now I can remember him for the man in my childhood. I chose to celebrate his life and remember all the valuable lessons that he taught me. I chose to do this with fond remembrance and with as much happiness and laughter that I can. It makes me happy to think that now I am special and have my own personal spirit watching over me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My grandpa loved to play golf. These past few years he has only been able to cart around with my uncle and observe while he plays his game, giving pointers such as 'keep your head down' and 'watch your swing'.

My grandpa loved to fish. He would take us on the Concho when I was a little girl and worm up our poles while we caught stuff in the river. We always released our catches, but still ~ those are some very happy memories. Today in a black briefcase treasure box at my grandparents, I saw a few photos of his silhouette in fishing gear on some lake or river. These photos are beautiful. I want copies of them on my wall some day.

My grandpa loved to bowl. I remember his collection of shoes, gloves, bags and balls at the grandparents house. I also remember when he would watch bowling on Saturday morning on his TV while my cousins, brothers and I would watch cartoons while eating cereal in the sun room. I remember smelling my grandmas cooking all while hanging out at my grandparents place and all the aunts where chatting up with grandma in Spanish and my uncles were watching bowling with grandpa and talking about men stuff.

My grandpa loved his family. I took a drive with my grandparents back in April or May this year and in their car they have many sun worn photos of their family along the dashboard and various other parts of the car. I always felt the love and pride that he had for his children just by looking at grandpas possessions.

I remember his cowboy hats, his belt buckles and ostrich boots. My grandpa is a handsome man, my grandma is a beautiful lady and they made a beautiful family. Everyone in their family shares their head turning looks. Even today in the hospital, the nurses kept commenting that he didn't look anywhere near his age, and were surprised on how old some of us really are.

My grandpa loved to paint everything with glitter, even the ceiling. He would paint his name on anything he owned, usually in glitter. He painted lots of lawn ornaments and pots for the plants for my grandma, usually with her name in glitter too. I can't remember if he painted his lawn mower, but it wouldn't surprise me if he did. I know for sure the mower cover did have his name painted on it somewhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning, I woke up at my aunt and uncles house. My aunt left the house around 8am to get some more last minute shopping done. She was very quiet in her departure, but I watched her from under the covers, as I feigned sleep from the living room. I got up after she left, because I didn't want her worrying about making me breakfast when I knew she wanted to go shopping. My uncle came downstairs earlier than usual and I thought about running upstairs to be 'first' to take my shower, but my internet addiction got the better of me.

My nephew also wakes up and we try to get my cousin to go sleep upstairs. He was also sleeping in the living room, curled up with his xbox controller. He wasn't budging, so we let him rest as best we could with my nephew awake. Around 9:45 my aunt comes home. Her voice is shaken, she said that grandpa was going to emergency surgery and she wanted to leave ASAP.

I woke my cousin up and said lets go, it's grandpa. The four of us pile into the truck and drive to the hospital. My grandma was waiting for us alone in the waiting room, but not for long ~ as usual, we filled up the place in record time. The surgery was not going to happen right away, but it was scheduled between 1:30 and 3:30 and his nurse Janah would let us know more as the day went on. I called my mother and my brother to let them know the news.

My mother is sick, and lives 5 hours away. I recommended that she not come because she would not be able to see him in the ICU because of her sickness, but I tried to keep her as informed as possible, my brother and his wife work nights and were sleeping, but I left him VM.

Janah told me that his kidneys and liver were failing and mentioned something about acute failure of another valuable but replaceable organ, they also scheduled a dialysis later in the day, and for his surgery they would be performing their 3rd or 4th endoscopy in 3 days to determine the cause and location of his bleeding ulcer.

I couldn't say the words or ask the question "how much longer does he have". But I knew deep down that no matter her answer, it wouldn't be what I wanted to hear, that my grandpa was on a very short count down. She had also mentioned other complications, but I had heard enough, and just started nodding my head and telling her I understood. After everything, she was so nice and polite, she wanted to know if I had any more questions. I did not.

I went to my grandpa's side. His breathing was much more relaxed today and he seemed to be resting despite everything I had just been told and what I was looking at, he looked like he had a great morning. I clutched his arm and ran my fingers thru his soft hair. I know he knew who I was and I did feel that he was less tense than yesterday.

Before the surgery, Janah came out and had grandma sign some more forms about anesthesia. She said his surgeon would possibly be coming out after the surgery to let us know his vitals. This was around 1 pm. Around 2pm, I went to use the toilet and make myself some tea and as I am doing my sugar ritual I can't think enough to even open the sugar packets when my cousin comes in to tell me 'come here'.

I don't rush, I don't know why I have to come here, I'm not that interested in what was on the discovery channel in the waiting room. I take my time pouring my sugar into the foam cup, I don't bother to look at him to see how serious he is, or to see everyone of my family members standing up crowding around our surgeon in blue jeans. I take my time walking to throw away my suger packets, and as I look up, I see it all, and I feel stupid for messing around with the stupid sugar and the stupid tea and the stupid styrofoam cup.

Our surgeon tells us that he looked into my grandpas insides again and there is nothing that can be done that wouldn't be prolonging the inevitable. Our doctor made a beautiful speech that I will forever remember, but he didn't have to tell me. He said his words with confidence and with utmost reassurance that everything had been done that they could possibly do. He talked about my grandpa as if he were a close golfing buddy and not as if he were a sequence of numbers on a sheet of paper. He said that grandpa had received the kind of care he hoped to have when his time had come. He spoke to us like a friend of the family. I've long been convinced of what he was trying to tell my family and I will forever admire my grandma for the courage to make the decision that she made, which was to take him off of life support.

Back in grandpas room, my family stood gathered around him while some new hospital staff faces came quietly into the room, made their way around the machines and quietly started flipping switches and pulling tubes from grandpa. I watched as the color in his face started changing. I saw his chest same as earlier this morning in a very peaceful breathing pattern. I listened as everybody said their goodbyes. There was so much love and closeness in the room. I watched his heart rate lines fluctuate wildly until the hospital staff came in and shut off the display.

I could see my grandpa in shadow form from the corner of my eye in one of the many empty chairs putting on his golf cleats, filling his pockets with fishing lures, and filling up his magical bag ~with his name in glitter on it of course~ with golf clubs, fishing lines, bowling balls and everything else he loved. I saw his shiny belt buckle and his cowboy hat. He stood up to walk and when I turned to look at him, he was gone.

Not more than 20 minutes after our surgeon gave us the news was grandpa gone. One thing that I remembered about him was that he was always in a hurry and even in his death he wasted no time. I could just picture him rushing himself along all while mumbling loud enough so we could all hear about how excited he was about where he was gong. I know he was in a hurry to start using his new legs!! I know he was in a hurry to start that first round of golf, to catch that big fish, to bowl that perfect game, and when he could find the time paint a fence somewhere. He saw no reason to waste anymore time in his earthly body.

I am glad it happened so quickly. I am glad that in his last days he didn't seem to suffer. I am glad that all of this happened in the hospital, and not when he was home alone with grandma. I am glad he didn't have to suffer as some seniors do, alone in a hospice, or have a prolonged and slow and drawn out miserable death. Again I am forever grateful for grandmas heroic decision. I admire her strength and courage to let go. I admire her selflessness in not wanting 'that inhumane machine life' for grandpa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am still going to give my blood, because there are other grandpas out there that need it. I believe all of the grandsons are going to be pallbearers. I want more than anything to photograph his services. More than anything I don't want anybody to give me dirty looks. This past weekend while grandpa was in his room and while he was passing I took pictures. One family member gave me a dirty look and gestured No. I stopped. More than one family member want copies of those images. My mother was not here for his passing, neither was her sister, neither was her brother. At the very least if they chose to ever see these images they will appreciate them for what they are and know that he was truly at peace and comfortable, even if they could not be there themselves.

I want to do this not being I am trying to be disgusting or morbid, but because I see the love and emotion and I am not the only one that wants to remember these days. I take beautiful photos. I want and most of the family want to remember these last days. Is that too much to ask for?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As my last, please instead of telling me that you're sorry for my loss, (but my family will appreciate those words as well as any prayers or good wishes you send their way) and If your grandpas are still around when you see them again, be sure to give them a big hug for me (grandmas too) .. Grandpa had the best last days he could have had under any circumstances and he did recover, just not in the way I was hoping. He will live on on our memories with my family forever. Thank you for reading to the end.

My cousin wrote about grandpa here. Please take the time to read his as well.

"So, do you wanna get a hotel room and some beers?"

Seriously.

This was a pickup line relayed to me from a girlfriend of mine. I jokinly said back to her "Only if I can mix my own drinks" and the only reason I said that to her, was because in the ladies room plasted all over my stall were fliers for anti-roofies. . .

I'm in the middle of nowhere small town Texas, USA. So WHY are there flyers about the date rape drug in the toilet stalls? I NEVER saw anti-roofie flyers in any stall in San Diego. Just the sink lady(s) offering candy, gum, condoms, shooters, soap, towels, cat toys and other goodies in her magic bottomless basket. Oh wait, its cause San Angelo is THE Meth/Ice capitol of the Bible Belt, they just don't say that in their tour guides. Maybe it's because it's the drug capitol that I found these three potential hunking 'quality' manz that I just HAVE to share with you so you can laugh as much I have been in telling this story all day to my cousins, aunts, other men, friends.... (and anybody else that will listen)

Let me just start this by saying that I had a GREAT time with my friend. I'm really glad she asked me to come along with her and all the margarita type drinks we shared :) The 'men' I ran into on the other hand . . . really made me thankful to know there are quality men out there like my brother or my cousin and even her brother out there. So I know all men are not as bad as these three. . .

Man 1. Pushy, but take charge kinda guy. Dragged me to the dance floor, offering to 'teach me how to dance'. I will give this to him, he was a good dancer (I think, I only say this because I myself can't dance so anybody is a better dancer than me that point in time last night). He twirled me this way and that way, but he kept his beer in one hand while twirling me in the other. I thought he was pretty good with the switching the beer bottle trick.

(oh yea, in TX you can SMOKE inside ..... so I couldn't exactally SMELL how drunk this fine speciman of man was, until....)

The song was over and we started to walk off the dance floor, he was holding my waist and guiding me to the exit, very nice very romantic very gentleman-ly (and really made me miss that 'sense of touch' heheh) the he leans into my ear and shouts "I GOTTA GO TAKE A PISS"

Did you HEAR the record scrape? Cause I swear that boom boom in the room got all quiet.

and if I was starting to get a girly boner, he really killed it with that statement..... /chop

About five minutes later...

He finds me again, takes my hand and pulls me to the dance floor. I was SOOOO glad his hands were not wet, but still couldnt resist the urge to shout at him "I hope you washed your hands". I can't say that he understood what I had said much less heard it, so when he said this next line after the dance I wasn't sad that I didnt' run into him the rest of the night.

He said something about some honey in his life... then mentioned he had a 9 month old daugher at home, and something about her bud smoking mother. Just great. All I need is some pot smoking latina coming after me thinking I want her manz. Sorry lady, you can have yo manz. I dun wan him. /oh snap!!!

Man 2. When I started talking to him, I didn't notice the OTHER side of his face and the tear shaped tattoo under his eye. Hmmm according to urban legand, that means he killed somebody, right? Just checking. So this fine hunka man leans in and shouts to me "I JUST BOUGHT A NEW CAR" If I had any fuzzy dice, trust me I woulda given them to him as a parting gift for the second place runner up in most 'useless information given to Lynda tonight'. He then proceeds to tell me that the reason he bought a new car was because he wrecked his other car.

I just looked at him. I mean really, what was I supposed to say in any normal situation? Cause they never taught me that in all those fancy dating websites I've looked at. Just looking at him and grinning or smiling wasn't gonna cut it.

He continued to speak. He wrecked his car because he was too drunk to drive. He wrecked it IN FRONT of the PO PO house!!!! He tells me this like he is PROUD of his accomplishment!!!! I had not even known the guy for five minutes and he's giving me these details. . . What kind of woman is attracted to this man? Who did he go home with? and why do I care?

He asked for my number. I didn't give it to him. What I shoulda told him was I wrecked my phone.

Man 3. The icing on the cake. I'm standing next to my friend and she leans over to me, laughing "So, do you wanna get a hotel room and some beers?" WHAT, and really WHAT kind of man thinks he can even TRY to get away with asking this kind of question, or more like... DOES that line REALLY work?? and hello, I am 31, THIRTY ONE years old!!!! I'm thinking that MAYBE this man is at LEAST within five years of my age. DON'T you HAVE a house? an apartment? or are you ashamed of your roomate 'Ms. Manzmom'

Maybe its the material girl in me, cause we all know I am one ~ and I'm sure you've all figured out that it's not something I try to hide, but if you want a piece of me, you BETTER have your own place that doesn't involve living with your parents under the same roof (yea did I tell you I'm also a hiprocrite /grin, since I am now among the ranks of those that 'live with mom') (too bad she doesnt' have a basement cause then I'd be pimpin)

Anyway, after those three menz. My feet really started hurting, and I came to the conclusion that I was a loser magnet for the night so we went to chill @ whattaburger and laugh about the nightly events.

Just so you know, these are my standards, some of them can be negotiated, but there's not much room for it.

-no smokers. period. I will NOT date you if you smoke.

-no alcoholics, drinks are ok, but if you *need* to drink *alot* everyday.... then I'm never gonna make you happy, and neither are your drinks

-no more menz with kids, sorry I don't want to be second place in *anybody's* life. yes I am a selfish bitch.

-must have vehicle. I will not drive you around, unless you need to get your oil changed or your flat fixed.

-must have 'space of your own'. I don't really want to date a man with a roomate, but hey. I can appreciate that you might be saving for something more.

Notice my song? tee hee hee