I am sneaking off on a getaway with my husband this weekend. We are going to a large B&B. I am so excited, I cannot wait. No computer, phones, noise. Just us.

I had a good day today. I spent the first half of the day in meetings with the management. I have a blurting problem these days. The management suggests some change or other. Then there is silence. Then they look at me, because they know I usually have something to say. I open my mouth and say whatever I feel like saying. Like I don't need my job!!! So far, my feedback has been received really well and appreciated. I really like feeling like I am contributing something to my organization that may make things better for everyone. Two of my most beloved coworkers are moving on. I have learned so much from these women! I have blubbered in both of their offices, said embarassing things, been encouraging, encouraged them. As they leave, I will be second in seniority on our management team. What is the world coming to? I am happy for them. We will be okay.

On the other hand, I went to check in with my consulting job. And they offered me a job again, this time with a huge salary. It is so tempting. But I really can't go there. My work at the Dot is not over yet. And the benefit package is not as good at the other place. It is flattering to have the offers. And sad that I just can't have both!! I would welcome the challenge that each position brings.

I think February is my favorite month. Black history month, a month of love, it is short, there is a national holiday in it, and unpredictable (leap year). Plus, red is one of my favorite colors. Then there is watching my third grader wrap a shoebox with tin foil and draw hearts all over it for her Valentines. She slowly wrote her name in cursive on each Valentine. I remember those days in grade school- so much fun.

Hospitals

I am now the woman who takes care of her mother ("mom take all of those pills out of the various wal-mart sacks and put them on the counter so that I can see them.") and her children ("what are we supposed to bring for your basketball team party?"/ "are your grades going to be good enough to graduate?")

My mom was admitted to the hospital within 30 minutes of our arrival Friday. The doctor told her that she was going to die within an hour of our being there. Of course, this meant that she tried to stand up and grab her purse to go. "Fight or flight" as they say. Maybe in her case it was both. Her heartbeat is irregular and the pacemaker cannot fix it. They cannot fix it. She also has spots on her lungs that 'may be cancer'. She has smoked for 50 years and is not about to stop now.

My sisters did not like the hospital I chose to take Mom to. So, they decided not to visit her to punish me. Hence, leaving me in charge of our mother's care. I was so angry, I just cried. Our mother was not a great mother. I earnestly believe that she did the best that she could. Abortion was legal when some of us were born (out of her nine kids) but she chose to have us and raise us, mostly single handedly. This means that we do not leave our mother in the hospital and refuse to bring her clothing. She was rinsing out her underwear in the sink at the hospital. I assumed my sister (whom Mom lives with) brought her some of her things. NO. My mom was so embarassed to be 'bothering me' that she never asked for her things. So she is there at the hospital rinsing out her underwear and wearing pajama bottoms that the nurses donated her. I found all of this out at discharge, of course. My heart hurts.

She does not have a primary care doctor, because it is nearly impossible to find one that wants to take Medicaid. I literally called 12 doctors before I found one. I was hysterical on the 12th call. I think she made the appointment in an effort to get me to stop crying. Hopefully she still accepts Medicaid when we get there (smile).

I don't know why I am going into all of this. I guess because I am WORN OUT. And I hate my sisters. I am trying to give up cursing, and this is not helping!

On the bright side, I sat down to dinner today and yesterday (two days in a row!) with my seventeen year old and my eight year old and just enjoyed the meal. No one makes me laugh like my son. I have to throw my head back to let out the laughter. He is the greatest. And Anna- every day is a new day, even when the day before is really crappy. I love, love, love that about her. She still loves me with her whole heart, you know, the way that only elementary school kids do.

HA!

Did I just complain about my family complaining?? Wow. I am a mess.

Family

Okay, so my little brother (32 years old now) just moved into town. Now I have two sisters, one brother, and one mother within 5 miles of my home. Sounds good right? I can admit it, in some ways it is comforting. Anna has 9 and 1/2 cousins to play with- don't have to worry about birthday party invites. I have a few people that can hear me cry on the phone without freaking out on me. They all know how ugly I look in polyester, and how paticular I am about people touching my stuff (smile). On the other hand, I can't just enjoy their company. They actually want things from me. Visits, phone calls, advice, shopping, to borrow money, and.... to talk about each other. Now I am taking my mother to the doctor on Friday. She is not a good patient, and is not doing any of the stuff she needs to take care of her pacemaker/heart. Goodness! I have never been close to my family as an adult. They have always needed too much, with all of their drama. All of the back biting and complaining. I have chosen to join other people's families instead. For some reason, it is much easier for me to see them sniping at each other and love them anyway. I have some great families I have adopted along the way. So much love. I guess I have to go back and adopt my own now. I made lasagne for dinner for everyone yesterday. I am trying.

This is my big brother, a man that cleaned my knees when I scraped them as a child, who made me grilled cheese sandwiches and showed me how to breakdance. And this is one of the villages in Afghanistan that he patrolled. He is a career military man, and has been in for over twenty years. Special Forces so he has seen a lot over the years. I am so proud of him because he is dedicated to protecting our country at great personal sacrifice. He has been married as long as he has been in the military. If we averaged it out, he has probably been able to spend about two months per year with his wife and children. They have lived wherever the military has asked them to go, whenever they have been asked. I look at these pictures from Iraq and Afghanistan and I think, who is this grown man, and where did my brother go? His eyes are too old. It makes me sad. I love him more than he knows.

One of my best memories of my brother happened when I was in fifth grade. I was outside in our front yard, playing with a few neighbors. The girls were picking on me and calling me names. My mother heard them, threw our door open and told me to come inside. She then went on the porch and started yelling ugly things at them. Meanwhile I was sobbing in the living room- not because they had called me names, but because I knew for sure that they would never want to be my friends because my mom was cussing them out. Anyways, my brother came to the living room and surveyed the scene. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't give them the satisfaction. You don't need them." and he walked out of the room. He's a man of few words. The lesson did stick with me, he and I will both cut someone out of our lives before we go through unnecessary, ugly drama repeatedly.

He does not support Obama. He has been brainwashed by the military culture. I am sure that he would be incensed to read me saying that. I am not surprised that he believes in boot strapping. He and I have both been successful at boot strapping our way out of our outrageous upbringing, to have beautiful families and careers. However, I also know that it takes a helping hand at the right time to work your way out of poverty. I think he knows it inside too. I have exclaimed to him before: "I can't believe that you grew up poor, have three black brothers and sisters, and would vote Republican!" He also married a black women and has his own beautiful mixed children. He refused to fund college for his son. He wanted his son to earn his way through and do it on his own the way that we did. I have a lot of opinions about that, the Republican party values, and this war. Whatever I think, I know that my brother is a strong man of his word, committed to his values, and is willing to die for us. He has to believe in what he believes in to do that. I have to believe in what I believe in to do the work that I do. It is amazing that we live in a world where both of our views can exist and intersect.

More meat?

Until this weekend, I could not imagine a full meal without meat. Preferably chicken, but beef was yummy too. Until I was flying down I-70, listening to my Dixie Chicks. I looked up at the truck in front of me. There, on the top half of the truck, was a little tail flipping back and forth. From the very top of the truck! As I passed the truck, I saw the various big eyes, tails, sides, etc. from the holes in the sides of the semi from top to bottom. I was horrified. The cows were stacked into the truck from the very top to the very bottom. Hurling down I-70 for God knows how long. There has to be some feces/urine situations in there. This sight actually brought tears to my eyes. How sad for those cows. Stacked in that truck. Like a slave ship. I am still sad thinking about it.

I have never had this kind of soft spot before. I recognize the importance of protein, population control, the food chain. Now that has all changed. I don't know if I can go without eating beef again. I like chili and burgers. But the sadness of the cattle, and all the animals that are treated that way. I have been changed. In my heart.

Fun!

I sent red and white roses to a friend today. She does not have a Valentine, and I thought it would be fun. And it was!! She was excited and reminded of how much she means to me. I will have to send random flowers to friends more often!

I love roses. They smell wonderful, and are just beautiful. I know it is cheesy, but I don't care.

One of my boyfriends in high school sent me my first dozen of roses. I was so surprised- there was no occasion, just because he was trying to win my heart. He always treated me like such a precious jewel-even when I did not treat myself with such care and respect. Of course this meant that I had to pay attention to all of the wrong guys, the ones that would never think to send flowers. I am thankful to be his friend to this day.

Love is expressed with much smaller things these days- fresh coffee in the pot (like magic!), warming up my car, bringing me clean underwear from the dryer (I know, sorry). The impact is the same.