Words That Drive me to Near Insanity

     Everyone has their little idiosyncrasies, and I am definitely no stranger to them as well.  Just ask my wife, there are just some things that I am really weird about.  One of them, which is a bit of comedy to her are words that, for no real reason other then my own psychosis, make me feel like kicking a kitten into a pool of piranhas and sharks with frickin' lasers on their heads.   It seems like as time goes on, the English vocabulary gets more and more ridiculous, lazy, and downright stupid. 

     I'm certain that this list will continuously grow as I run across words and terminology that rake across my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard, but here are some that already cut my fuse short, with a little explanation as to what goes on in my head when I hear these words:  (Hopefully, you can get a little humor out of my insanity)

"BOGO"

     You better be talking about the long lost brother of Bozo the Clown, because I wanna slap you with a stunned codfish if you are referring to a "Buy One, Get One" deal.  PayLess Shoes is the biggest perpetrator for this term, and every single time I see one of those commercials using that term, I want to rip my hair out, set it on fire, and throw it in the face of whomever created that ridiculous acronym, (and maybe still purchase an affordable pair of shoes).  It just strikes me as sheer laziness to not just say, "Buy one, Get one half off, for free, with a gift...." etc, as well as, for some inexplicable reason, I feel a homicidal tendency flare up at mere mention of this word.  Generally, if there is a radio or television commercial with that word used, I will usually scream an obscenity and change the channel.  Just ask Brittany.

"YOLO"

     As opposed to "BOGO," (and yes, I just cringed again typing that word), "YOLO" is newer to the English Language of Idiocy.  For those of you who are not familiar with this, I envy you, and it is an acronym for, "You Only Live Once."  Generally speaking, it is a moronic exclamation that some young idiot makes when they are about to do something stupid and/or irresponsible.  For example, someone posts a picture online of themselves at a frat party and types: "Gonna do as many keg stands as I can and then drive home! YOLO!"

     I take issue with this term for a couple of reasons.  For one, it's one of these crappy internet terms that has sprung up due to social media that propagates the use of made-up acronyms and other terms to replace actual words, sentences, and cognizant thought.  Secondly, yes, you may only live once, but that doesn't mean that you tempt the Fates by cramming every last dangerous and stupid act you can into the shortest amount of time possible, shouting some stupid, made up term from the open window of your daddy's BMW just before you wrap it around a telephone pole at 150 mph.  On second thought, go right ahead, go crazy, scream "YOLO," then end up a top candidate for the Darwin Award.  It'll do us a favor because maybe that term will die out with all those members of the shallow end of the gene pool as they do all they can to, "YOLO."

"App"

     Okay, this is definitely one that gets on my nerves because this is just an abbreviation of a real word: Application.  I am kind of OCD when it comes to English, which is most likely the root cause to my insanity when it comes to these ridiculous terms,  so shortening a normal, not even difficult word for the purpose of referencing software you can upload on a smart phone or other electronic device is kind of maddening to me.  This is especially true when it picks up and spreads like wildfire, thanks again to social media, the internet, etc and is established as if it is a real word, even being added to the freaking dictionary.  Sadly, I have to think really hard every single time I refer to my phone and something that I downloaded on it to make sure that I say "application," only because that term is used to liberally that it has forced it's way into my vocabulary bank, on a subconscious level.  Why is it so great to be lazy and not even complete a word?  Why is it that everyone jumps on something like this?  Moving on....

"Fashionista"

     Okay, so I'm not entirely sure of the origins of this word, but we are going to blame T.J. Maxx for this one just because they ram it down our throats with their commercials.   In doing a little quick research, -ista is a Latin suffix that is essentially the equivalent of adding -ist to a word in English, such as nationalist, industrialist, and such to denote someone who follows a principle.  Okay, that is all well and good, but why in the flying fart in space do they not just say "Fashionist?"  You know, someone who is a fashion guru or is very fashionable?  How hard is that?  Why do we all of the sudden throw in a Latin-based suffix on an English word?  Oh yeah, that ridiculous notion of pop culture and having "hip" terms to refer to for everything.  To be completely honest, this is what I think of every time I hear "fashionista," (besides the sudden urge to kick a puppy):

"Hey Quanisha, wha' you up to girl?"

"Oh, nuffun' Jaquansha, whatcha doin'?"

"Well, me, Shanaynay, Ladasha, Moquisha, and Fashionista is all goin' to da mall? Wanna go?"

     Yeah....  To me, it literally sounds like a terrible name for someone that I fear it has probably been used to name a poor soul, and probably a name I would have heard while I was in Albany or Schenectady, New York.  (Terrible names will be a post all their own in the near future)

"Swag"

     The following are the REAL definitions of this word:

    Noun:

1. .

an ornamental festoon of flowers, fruit, and greenery.

2. 

informal

     money or goods taken by a thief or burglar.

verb

1.

 arrange in or decorate with a swag or swags of fabric.

2.

Australia./NZ

   travel with one's personal belongings in a bundle.

     Hmm..... Question:  where in any of those definitions does it define the word as something having to do with some douchebag who goes clubbing, dresses flashy, or has some sort of urban appeal that makes everyone think he is cool or desirable?  (I'll give you a second to guess.....)  NONE OF THEM!  

     To be completely honest, I've never really known the real definition of the word, or that it was an actual word outside the acronym, "Stuff We All Get," like free stuff you get from a seminar or party or something.  When I looked for a definition of the word, I literally said to myself, "Holy crap! It's a real word!"

     Once again, the stupidity and ridiculousness that is pop culture, (I think it is more adequately defined as "poop culture"), has taken a legitimate word and bastardized it into some word that describes what a lot of people would describe as a dick of a person.  All those rappers talking about how "dey got swag," because they wear gold chains, drive expensive cars, shoot police, and "get da hoes."  Yeah, unless you have all those possessions packed up in a bundle while you're walking the streets like a hobo in Australia, or referring to your floral arrangement, or fabric decorations, you guys aren't using the word correctly.  "No points will be awarded, and may God have mercy on your soul."

"Hashtag"

      Yup, another one from the world of social media, which seems to be the cesspool of literary crap in our lexicon.  # <-----That's what it is, for anyone who may be unfamiliar with it.  Yup, the pound sign.  That key at the bottom right corner of your touch tone phone that you usually have to press to confirm you have entered information into an automated call router.  Or, it's the typeface symbol to signify the word, "number," like, #1, #2, #3, and so on.  Or, in cooking, it's a shorthand symbol for the measurement of weight, (add one # of ground beef...).  

      However, in the world of social media, it is probably one of the most overly incorrectly used symbols which has been named the "hashtag," which is defined as follows:

      1. (on social media sites such as Twitter) a word or phrase preceded by a hash or pound sign (#) and used to identify messages on a specific topic.

      More accurately put, it is a symbol that precedes someone sharing a useless, stupid rant, thought, or phrase that really just drops your IQ after having read it that we all could have done without in the first place.  For a lot of the social media posts that involve this symbol/word, it's like a warning sign that says, "Warning: Stupidity to follow..."

      Not only is the association of it something that I find totally ridiculous, but the word itself makes no dang sense to me.  It doesn't look like a hash, it doesn't look like a tag, and please just stop saying the word, especially if you are using the word to insert a moronic thought into a verbal conversation.  When it comes to speaking, you know what the hashtag is in reality?  Your common sense telling you to just keep that crap to yourself instead of saying it.  Sadly, there have been skits such as the one with Justin Timberlake totally making fun of the hashtag and how dumb and over-used it is, but it just seems to have fueled the dumb-dumb fire.  If  we were going to name it merely off of looks, I'd say it should be called the "Waffle-Cut Fry Symbol," which would totally make conversation so much better, like the Saturday Night Live skit:

    "So, what are you going to be for Halloween? Waffle-CutFrySymbolsexyghost?

      Just to illustrate my frustration with the hashtag.....

   #wheneveryouhappentosayorusethiswordiwannaburyyouuptoyourchininbatteryacidandrunabeltsanderon

yourheadandthenconstantlydunkyourheadintheaciduntilyouarenothingmorethanasteamingpileofgoothatis

unrecognizabletoevenyourmotherandthatisjustasmalltasteofmycompletedisdainforthatstupididioticcompletely

uselessandneedlesswordscrewyousocialmediaandalltheinbredlovechildrenyoucreated!

  

      So, until pop culture comes out with another little nugget of stupid that drives me to insanity that I can add to this list, consider yourself warned if you are around me and happen to use one of these words and notice that I look like a war veteran trying to suppress a horrible flashback that causes me to kill everything in sight.

Jack Speaks....

     Time really flies, not just when you are having fun, but just in general.  It seems like time has been moving perpetually faster with each day and I find myself constantly amazed at how quickly time has passed since, what I thought was, a recent milestone. 
     For instance, I could have sworn that Jack had just turned two and he was a little thinner, a lot more mobile, and fairly talkative, but in that disjointed, two-year-old sort of way.  Then, I realize that this boy turns THREE on Wednesday, and he has a 6-month old little brother.  Our little Bubba who was a sumo baby, then a mover, and a jibbering little toddler is now a three year old who carries on full conversations, recites stories and rhymes to tell him, and quotes you on just about everything you shouldn't have said.  On top of that, he is sharp as a tack, which has resulted in many hilarious moments of conversation in the past year.  This post is to highlight some of the best.  (I'm sure it will continue to get longer as time goes on.)

    One night, while I was using the bathroom, he came in the bathroom, as he usually does.  I typically don't lock the door, and Jack finds it a good time to come in and be conversational.  This time he came in, paused for a moment, and then said, "Ew! Stinky! I gotta get out of here!" and immediately turned and ran.  This was one of the first times I had heard a full sentence come out of him and thankfully I was already using the toilet, because I would have peed my pants laughing at that moment.

     Christmas was a very fun time for us this past year because it was so fun to see how Jack reacted to the whole subject of Santa Claus.  We had spent time telling him how we set up our Christmas tree and Santa comes to our house to leave presents, provided that he is a good boy.  Well, one of the family traditions we have it to bring him to see Santa at one of the malls.  This season, we were talking up the time when we were going to go see Santa when he stopped us and very seriously pointed to our Christmas tree and said, as if to correct his silly parents, "No, Santa come to my house!"

     On the note of Santa Clause, when the time came to actually go see Santa, we were very excited to see how Jack would react.  He wasn't old enough before to really understand the concept on his own, and he was excited to see Santa as well, talking about it the whole time we drove to the mall.  When we finally got there, Brittany went ahead with Ben to get a place in line (which there wasn't one). Jack was standing next to me and was able to see into the little area where Santa sits and took one look at the Santa and said, "Ummmm, Jack see Santa later," and turned around to walk away.

     When Jack was first talking, I had never really taken into consideration how a child is like a word sponge, and whether you are paying attention or not, they are.  Carlotta, one of our cats, has gained a whole lot of weight since we adopted her, and she is hilariously disproportionate with a fat belly, tiny head and tail and skinny little legs.  I had gotten in the habit of just calling her "Fat-Fat," and would greet her by that name every time she came into the room or I came into a room where she was.  One day, I was playing with Jack and Carlotta walked into the room, and immediately Jack looked up, saw her and happily greeted her,  "Oh, hi Fat-Fat!"

The Jack-Jack hilarity continues as he gets older and gets smarter.  He literally is like a sponge when it comes to what he hears, which makes it really tricky when it comes to expressing your feelings.  I tend to use a lot of analogies or other ways to explain things, such as when I'm tired.  Whether I am tired, or someone else looks tired, I tend to use the terminology that they are, "running out of fuel."  One day, Jack seemed to be running a little low on energy himself and he turned to Brittany and me and said, "Me has no power, me's running out of gas."  

On the note of Jack getting smarter, sometimes he surprises us with knowledge that we didn't even know that he had.  As he has been getting more and more adept to using the bathroom on his own, he has also attempted to develop ways to conceal the need to pee.  One day, while he was helping me at the storage unit, he was starting to dance, a classic and very evident sign that he has to use the bathroom.  I called him out on the fact and this was the exchange that followed:

Me: "Jack, do you need to go to the bathroom?"
Jack: "No, I don't need to." (While still dancing)
Me: "Well, then why are you dancing?"
Jack: "No, that's just my rain dance."

Yep, to this day, neither I, nor  Brittany have any clue where it is that he learned the term "rain dance," let alone figured out how to use it.

Back on the subject of Jack being a sponge, Brittany will sometimes jokingly tell me things such as my apparent lack of the ability to listen sometimes.  (Shiny objects are just so distractin- Holy cow, a nickel!)

While we were taking the boys through a drive-thru for some food while we were out one evening and while ordering their food, I opted not to include pickles on Jack's cheeseburger because I was uncertain as to whether he liked them or not, and, as he has inherited an extremely enhanced version of my OCD, one small thing out of place can cause chaos.  (He has woken up many a night in a panic because his fitted sheet on his bed had a wrinkle in it)  As Jack went through his food, he confirmed the contents of his cheeseburger and was saddened to find that there were no pickles.  I received the following chastisement from our 3-year old:

"Dad, you leaved out my pickles!"  And upon my my attempts to obtain his forgiveness, he says, "It's okay Dad, one day, you'll listen..."  (Ouch)

Recently, we moved into our new home here and when we had set up the boys' bedroom, Jack was away with his grandparents' house.  While we were driving home, I was telling him how we were going to our new home and how Brittany and I had set up his and Ben's room.  Jack was already ecstatic about moving to a new home, so when he had heard that his new room was all ready for him, he exclaimed, "I'm so excited, I'm gonna freak out!"

One day, while in the front room, Jack became aware that Ben needed a diaper change and Jack approached me with this plea, "Dad, I has a problem; Ben is all poopy, will you please go get a diaper?"  Honestly, who could say "no" to that?

Brittany and I were in the car with the boys the other day and were discussing a song that Brittany had come across which was by the rapper Eminem.  While we were talking about the motivational message of the lyrics when Jack, a big supporter of candy, excitedly asked, "You have an M&M song?!"
  

Letter to Jack (1 Year)

Dearest Little Jack,
      At 10:07 tonight your daddy got a slap in the face when his phone alarm went off and he and your mommy realized that you were now officially one year old!  Time flies faster than I can even imagine, and the most prominent indicator of that is you.
     I remember my earliest memory of you.  You had come at a time when we needed you most.  Your mommy and daddy had a heart-shattering experience just months  before when you had decided that then wasn't quite the time you needed to come be with us.  Well, you were back again and this time when we went to the doctor's office, I was more nervous than anything I could ever explain!  You were just as old as you were the first time we had an ultrasound, and the only thing that I could think of was how I desperately hoped that we didn't have to suffer through another soul-crushing loss.  Well, long story short, there you were, a little spot on a screen accompanied by the little "swish, swish, swish," of your heartbeat on the monitor!  You were there, and you were okay!!!  From that moment on, your mommy and I were waiting in ecstatic anticipation for you to come into this world and meet us.  That moment, you were officially our little Jack-Jack, and we could hardly wait for you.
     As you got bigger and bigger in your mom's belly, we prepared more and more for you. We got all sorts of little clothes for you, painted your room, and got all of your furniture ready and set up.  (Your daddy still doesn't like all the little parts it takes to put together a crib, but would do it a million and a trillion times more for you).  We even had your name all picked out, Jack Ryan Kenner, it just fit, and it was just as perfect as was the little angel growing inside mommy.
     More time passed and you got bigger and bigger and mommy's body had a little bit of trouble keeping up with how fast you were growing and she had to spend a lot of time in bed, and the closer you came to coming, she even had to spend some time in the hospital.  During all of this, we wondered if mommy would be able to handle having any more little ones, so we decided that if you were to be our one and only little boy, we would have to make sure you had a family name.  Jack Ryan was soooooooooooooo perfect though, we just couldn't think of any way that we could make it better.  Then it came to us.  We didn't have to change or get rid of our Jack Ryan, we just added a little daddy in there to complete the equation, Jack Christopher Ryan, and that was that.  Just when we thought it couldn't get any more perfect, we were very pleasantly surprised.
     I remember that day, a year ago when we knew it was gonna be your time to meet us.  It was early in the morning and the doctor came in and got the ball rolling so mommy could give birth.  I thought it was going to be all chaos and craziness from that point like all the movies show, but it really wasn't.  We watched a movie, took a nap, had some lunch, and just sat around and wondered how everything was going to be.  A little while later everything started to get more and more crazy by the minute as you began your entrance into this world.
     On April 9th, 2011 at 10:07 p.m. you were here, and mommy and daddy's world was turned upside-down, but in a good way.  After chasing after you to the NICU and seeing them hook you up to machines to help you breathe, I remember just being in a state of shock, I couldn't really believe that you were finally here!  Laying down that night on a horribly uncomfortable chair/bed, feeling like I had just run a thousand miles, I remember wondering how things were going to be now that you were here, all 5 pounds, 7 ounces of you.
     The following weeks weren't so easy, for me or your mommy.  You had to stay in the NICU for two whole weeks before you could come home.  Mommy was a champion and came to the hospital every day and made sure that you had plenty of milk to drink and that you ate right on time.  I remember the times where I could only see you for a few minutes between school and work every evening after mommy had gone home to rest. You were in a little isolette to keep you warm as you grew and grew and I remember the heart-wrenching feeling I felt when all I could do was look at you through the glass, not even get to hold you or even touch you. No mommy or daddy should EVER have to go through that.  Two weeks of wondering if you were ever really going to be ours, when you could come home and really be our little boy and when we could really be your mom and dad.
     I remember the call that I got from your mom the day they said we could take you home.  I ran out of work an sped home so we could come get you.  It seemed like an eternity waiting in the NICU before they let us put you in your new little carseat and drive home with you for the very first time.  It was hard to believe that you were finally going home! We were finally able to have you to ourselves!  I remember looking back into the back seat and seeing your carseat and just feeling totally amazed and in shock that in that seat was our "little bean," our Jack-Jack.  I remember wondering what each day would hold with this new little life in our care, and as you grew and grew remember wondering what your first word was going to be, how you were going to look, sound, and be.
     Nothing could have prepared your mommy and daddy for the incredible angel you turned out to be.  Every little noise, quirk, look, and grin you give just melts our hearts.  We couldn't be more proud of our little boy and how he has grown in leaps and bounds compared to the little preemie we took home with us just one year ago.  Your daddy looked at all the blog posts your mommy published online for each month since you have been born and trying not to cry while he was at work. My have you grown and grown!  You do so much now and your little personality is far bigger than even the little chunk-munka body it is contained in.  I LOVE how you know, and we can tell that you know, who exactly your mommy and daddy are and that they are irreplaceable to you.  I love how there are times where only your mommy can make you grin, and even times when only your daddy can make you happy and even more for the times that we can see that you can only be happy when we are both there with you.  Your little voice is just the sweetest to hear, early in the morning when you wake up for a moment to talk yourself back to sleep, or when you are sitting in the back seat of the car shouting, "Da Da!" like I won't get the message unless you let the whole world hear.
     Looking back on this year, little Jack, there is NO WAY in this world that I ever could have imagined that life would have played out like this with you, and I can't say that it could have been any better.  You are a blessing far beyond anything that your mommy and I can describe and every night our prayers flow with gratitude for you and everything that you are to us.  We love you Jack-Jack, we always have and always will with a love that will never change except to grow stronger.  Looking back on this year in disbelief of all that has been, I find myself marveling at the prospect of what is to come in the next year, and the anticipation of sharing it as a FAMILY.
   Happy Birthday our little Jack Christopher Ryan Kenner.  May you always know and feel the love and admiration that your mom and dad have for you, and may you never doubt it either.  Even more so, just like your grandpa Kenner said to your daddy when he was younger, "promise me that you will never get too big to give your dad hugs," and I will add to not get too big to give your mommy kisses. You are our world, our life, our little angel forever.


Love, Forever and Always,
   Daddy



My Second Donor Experience and Another "Almost."

Well, as the saying goes, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."  As if my first experience donating blood wasn't practically abuse as it was, I figured I'd give it another go and signed up for another blood drive at our Stake Center tonight.  The only difference, besides the bus that is, is that it was through:

     No big deal, the first experience that is, but I was still a bit apprehensive about trying everything again. Oddly enough, the thing that I was looking forward to the least was having my finger pricked to test my iron levels.  It doesn't hurt so much as it is just annoying.  Well, to sum it all up, today was my second "almost" experience that I have had in the passed two days.

     So I sign in, fill out the form that confirms I haven't lived in the UK for a total of 5 years since 1995, (and I still have no idea why that even matters), and then it was on into the "interview" room for the additional questions and the finger-poking! :P  Well, I get in there and I had marked on the sheet that I had previously donated blood.  They asked me how long ago it was that I had donated blood, and I estimated probably about 4 weeks ago.  Well, turns out that you can't give blood more than once in an 8 week period, according to the FDA. (those jerks ruin everyone's fun anyway)  So, I ALMOST got to give blood today again, which, after my first experience, one would wonder why I would go back for some more potential punishment.

     Additionally, I had another sort of "almost" the day before as well.  Our cat Vader, (the kitty formerly known as Spartacus), is primarily an indoor cat but has recently found it fun to dart out the door whenever we open it. He will camp out near the door if he sees us going towards it and then scurry outside.  Funny part is, he usually makes it about as far as the edge of the property, then comes back inside apparently deciding the life and adventure of an outdoor cat isn't for him. 

    A couple days ago, Vader went outside and didn't end up coming back within his usual 10 minutes or so.  I figured he had decided that being outside, especially with the weather being so nice, was an awesome thing for him, so I didn't worry about it.  Well, come time to go to bed, he hadn't come back yet.  "Well, he knows where he gets his food, so he will be back sometime," I thought to myself.  So I didn't really worry about it.  The worry started to set in when he hadn't returned the next morning and hadn't been home by the time I got home from work late in the afternoon. I asked Brittany if he had gotten home and was just somewhere sleeping, but she confirmed that he wasn't anywhere in sight.  Come late evening, we were out sitting on our front steps, watiting to see if he happened to wander back home.  Our neighbor diagonally from us was out doing some yard work and Brittany suggested that I ask him if he had seen Vader recently.  I walked over and asked our neighbor if he had seen a little brown tabby cat recently.  Much to my surprise, he turned around and pointed, "Is he the one you are talking about?" I turned and looked in the direction that he was pointing and this is what I found:

      Yup, there was Vader, high up in a tree, crying for help and looking as panicked as ever.  So.....out came the ladder and I climbed up the tree and pulled a screaming Vader out of the tree and returned him safely to the ground, where he trotted happily home.  As far as we know, the little dufus had gotten himself stuck up in that tree and had been there for the day and a half or so that he was missing.  So, the day before I almost got to donate blood again, I got to sort of almost be a fireman and save a stuck kitty in a tree.

     We are happy to report now that Vader has plastic caps on his front claws that prevent him from scratching the furniture, us, Jack, and from climbing trees.

The First Donor Experience

     Yesterday turned out to be quite an interesting experience for me.  Here at
work, a  blood drive was going on and I figured that I had never donated blood
before, I might as well give it a try.  As I was a total amateur about the whole
thing, I ate a pretty light breakfast before going to work, and because of how some
of my workload played out here, my donation appointment came up before I was able
to take lunch, which was part of original plan: take lunch, then come back and go
to my appointment.
    So the time has come and I head out to the bus...

The paperwork and stuff was the longest part of the process, (and I'm still
wondering why it matters if I had spent a total of 5 years in Europe between 1980
and 1997 and why it's limited to just those years), and it was off to the table to
get poked.  The donation itself went just fine, (the extraction of the needle was a
little fast and borderline violent), and I was led to the front of the bus where
there is a little bench and some snacks available for recovery.  They had told me
to spend about 15 minutes or so there, which I thought was going to be a little too
long because I already felt just fine.  However, I was still unsure about how my
body would react to this new experience, so I took the workers' advice and planned
to pop a squat on the recovery bench for the whole 15 minutes.  The next thing to
happen is still a little "Twilight Zone" to me.
    At first my vision started to go a little blurry and I started to get dizzy,
I'll just play out the conversation that I had in my head with myself:

    "Whoa, feeling a little dizzy here."
    "That's fine, the paper they gave you said that could happen."
    "Oh man...Now I am feeling really nauseous."
    "No worries, the paper said that could happen too."
    "Dude, I can't puke in front of these people, that would be embarrassing!"
    "Just chill out! Close your eyes and take some deep breaths. Stay calm, because 

if you freak yourself out too much you are going to puke."

    So I closed my eyes and began to take long, deep breaths and just tried to stay
calm.  Due to the fact that a couple nights before I had not gotten to bed at a
reasonable hour, I was feeling pretty tired too.  As far as I knew, I dozed off and
actually began to have a dream.  What apparently happened....

When I opened my eyes, I remember that it seemed weird that my vision took
several seconds to recover, and it was a gray, blurry process.  I remembered that I
was slightly slumped over in my seat, which didn't seem weird considering that I
had just fallen asleep.  When I looked up though, I was met by the sight of all the
phlebotomists in the bus surrounding me with the look of "HOLY CRAP" on their face.
 I was totally taken off guard by this and was even more confused when one of them
asked if I was okay. I answered that I was, and in fact I felt just fine then, but
it turns out that I had passed out and a lady sitting next to me had to catch me to
keep me from sliding off the bench.  So, they had me lay back down on one of the
tables and gave me all sorts of snacks and juice to get my blood sugar levels up to
a level that would keep me conscious again.
   
    Probably not the best first experience to have, but definitely not the worse.  I want to give donating blood another try, and next time try to think a little more about my meal choices/amounts before I go in. :P

To The Unsung Hero....

Hero:

  It's a word that will illicit an extremely wide variety of pictures on one's mind.  Firemen living and dying saving the lives of those in peril, soldiers laying down their lives in the defense of country, life, liberty, and freedom, and so many other thoughts.  Sure, heroes are even those guys in silly costumes that we have all seen and at one point loved on the Saturday morning cartoons.  To everyone, a hero is someone different, and for different reasons.

  However, there is one hero that I feel is universal across all cultures, lives, and experiences.  This hero is hardly celebrated, but once a year, and is the most subtle hero in all existence.  Lives laid down, dreams set aside, hearts broken, heavy prices paid, these heroes go through every day without fanfare, without medals, and sometimes without even a "thank you," for even the simplest but most significant things done every day.

Who are they?

Mothers...

    Coming home today, Brittany showed me the most powerful blog I have ever seen.  It is from a friend of my aunt Melinda and you can click HERE to check it out.  I haven't read everything on it, but the story as I understand it is this family was blessed with the chance to care for a very special spirit.  Their son, Caleb, was born without a fully developed brain and the doctors didn't give him more than a few days to live.  They were blessed to be with Caleb for the next 7 YEARS.  In all this time, Caleb was unable to function on his own, but every single post on that blog sang the sweet song of a mother's love for her special son through all the trials and hardship experienced.  (Just a warning, you will not make it out of that blog with dry eyes.)

  And that's what got me thinking.....

  Soldiers, police officers, firemen, even normal people exhibiting what is considered superhuman feats are praised, lauded, and adored as heroes.  News reports go on and on and on for months on end about some miraculous event involving a heroic act of some sort.  In most of these situations, the hero gave the ultimate sacrifice, their life, in the helping/saving of someone or something. History books honor and remember the selfless deeds of these heroes.

  Think for a moment, when was the last time you sat back and thought about how your mother meets every definition of "hero" that there is?  From the moment a child is born, there is a mother, and from that moment THERE IS A HERO.  A woman lives her dreams and makes them come true. A MOTHER, a HERO, gives up her dreams and adopts the dreams of her children and lives to make them come true.  A woman can be super, one of the greatest multitaskers the world could ever see.  A mother can truly be superhuman, hearing the coo of her child through several walls and closed doors and knowing and feeling their every thought, joy, or pain, whether present or miles away.  A mother sacrifices her very life every waking moment of the day to ensure the betterment and building of her children's lives.

   None of this is to downplay those who are not mothers or who cannot be mothers, but to draw attention to the greatest unsung heroes of the entire existence of mankind. Women can even be mothers if they are unable to have children of their own, because the ability to love, cherish, protect, and nurture is a skill that can be shared with everyone, whether one's own children, or other people's children. It is true, what has been said by General Authorities, "Of all the callings on this earth, none is greater than that of the calling of Mother."  Our mothers are with us every day, whether we realize it or not.  What you think, what you do, how you love, that is your mother, and what she taught you, shining through you.  When little children are afraid, and in many cases, when grown ups are afraid, who do they wish was near?  You don't hear kids crying for their teddies, or their buddies, or even their own siblings, they cry for their mommies.  Mommy...an endearing and important title, important beyond words. 

   Even the Savior understood the importance of his mother.  In his dying hour, he looked to his mother, who stood by him to the very end of His mortal existence and said,  "Woman, behold thy son!" Immediately after, he looked to John the Beloved and said, "Behold thy mother!" In that moment, Jesus looked for the approval of his mother and then ensured that she would be taken care of after his departure by charging her care to one of his disciples. (John 19: 25-30) In all the pain and anguish He suffered, his mind caught hold of the importance of His mother.

  In all that they give, in all the capacities that they serve, in all the ways they save us from ourselves, others, and so much more, our mothers are heroes.  Every woman to share the title "mother" shares a title sacred to all the world and to our very Heavenly Father and his Son.  Words cannot express the magnitude of the calling, the title, the BLESSING of mother and I myself fail at the thought of trying to express it.  For all that they do, for all that they have done, and for everything that they will do in every waking moment of their life, thank your mother.  Praise your mother. Give honor and reverence to the woman who was the vessel through which you were given life, and with each day are given a more abundant life through her sacrifices and love.  Let the history book of your memory shout adoration for the woman who will never stop loving you, irregardless of your looks, your actions, your thoughts, or anything else.  Though the gates of hell open against her and it seem as if the heavens themselves turn their back on her, next to our Heavenly Father Himself you can be assured that your mother will never, NEVER stop loving you, and for that alone she is worthy of a hero's praise every day.

  So forget Mother's Day as just one day a year where you try to make the day special and honor this truly remarkable woman, make EVERY DAY of your life Mother's Day, because she has spent every day since you were born making her every day "Children's Day."  Thank your mother, every day if you can, and if you can't, at least thank Heavenly Father for her and ask that He pour his spirit out on her to feel of His love, and of yours.  The unsung heroes of our time, of past times, and of times to come....MOTHERS.

I love you Mom, Brittany, and all the Mothers I know and don't know.  YOU ARE HEROES, and may you never forget that, and may WE never forget that too....

New Year, New Beginnings.....

  Ah the new year.  Plenty of opportunity to make new promises to one's self which will drift off into oblivion long before Easter.  Many people re-discover that fancy towel rack to be the piece of exercise equipment they knew and forgot that they had, only to re-assign it to another rack for some other item before the gears get warm.  Others take a more non-traditional route where rather than stop a bad habit for a time, they simply promise themselves again and again and again all year long that, "this time is the last time."  There will be many smokers and drinkers out there who will be "quitting" a great many times this year by that standard!
  So what about me?  I'll admit that in the past I have been right along with the masses, making promises and then letting them slip away into lethargic complacency.  It was far too easy to get excited to change, then settle back into a lazy comfort zone the next day and rationalize my failure until I was numb. NOT THIS YEAR!  There are far too many things that I have needed to change and failed to do so and this year is going to be the year to end those!  Besides, if the world is going to end before Christmas this year, might as well go out with a bang right? ;)
  What is even better to this year, I have another form of accountability, dis here bloggy thingamajig.  I would hope to have anyone and everyone who reads this, (and I think I can count them on only half of my fingers on one hand), to hold me accountable and badger me if necessary to stick to my goals.  Additionally, I have already seen the fruits of my labor in some of the areas I am working to change, which provides further reinforcement to my resolve.  I have forgiven and, needed even more, sought forgiveness from others and have seen the ice of distrust beginning to melt, even if by just a few drops, and nothing has been sweeter.  The hope for the new year is bright and I will be doing all that I can to keep it that illuminated and optimistic.  This year I plan to change, inside and out from this:

To something more like this:

LET'S HEAR IT FOR 2012!!!!