tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9234926480932479202024-03-27T18:54:35.052-05:00A running commentary about lifeMichellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.comBlogger965125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-14618082921030068652023-12-20T09:29:00.002-06:002023-12-20T09:29:20.455-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2735<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJQRiXva2H6DWoKmPxuli_E9zf66YO_s3XA_my1C1-DBjh9Pm5o7P9sG8sDVkCTK5Pq_m0jD06Mod_jJi4lzX-7jEonWPgttY7Ie7omiHz2nHkk9Vas0JGerw4vNx0hHjSigPpjnLBktKHfg3kyuQ1btMvjuedqDzbN_KUcpPJafJF7Q80g0ukUX-kVa_/s1080/62a4e2a9916194b0ff7595cf4fbc793c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJQRiXva2H6DWoKmPxuli_E9zf66YO_s3XA_my1C1-DBjh9Pm5o7P9sG8sDVkCTK5Pq_m0jD06Mod_jJi4lzX-7jEonWPgttY7Ie7omiHz2nHkk9Vas0JGerw4vNx0hHjSigPpjnLBktKHfg3kyuQ1btMvjuedqDzbN_KUcpPJafJF7Q80g0ukUX-kVa_/s320/62a4e2a9916194b0ff7595cf4fbc793c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><b>Is He, though? </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">I'm having a very hard time with this lately.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">I've never been an overly religious person, but I consider myself a believer and I've always relied on my faith. That has seen me through some very tough times. I don't think I have even a tiny mustard seed of faith right now. It hurts my heart to feel like this, especially at Christmas. This is my favorite time of year, and normally the time I feel closest to God. Not this year. I'm stressed, overwhelmed and sad. Not filled with the Christmas spirit at all. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">I know that God does not answer every prayer. Nothing bad would ever happen in the world if He did. I also know He didn't promise it would be easy. He promised it would be worth it. Well, right now? It doesn't feel worth it. It feels hard and unfulfilling and like He couldn't care less about me.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">I'm struggling. Big time. In fact, this font is called "Shadows into Light", because I'm desperately searching for the light. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">It seems like every single prayer I pray, everything I hope for, everything I ask for... the exact opposite happens. Over and over again. Big prayers, tiny everyday prayers, prayers for myself, prayers for others... it doesn't matter. I hope and pray for something good, or an answer, and instead something bad or disappointing or stressful happens. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">I'm lost. I'm sad. I'm disconnected from God, from my family, from LIFE. I'm not asking for miracles, or millions of dollars, or for world peace. In the grand scheme of things, my prayers are insignificant and personal. Maybe too personal. Maybe God is trying to show me that I'm being selfish (even though 99% of my prayers are not for me). </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfn8r25pVFd50ntM9JPHszyfGbEt2yVTfHMoxlyEUloxQElNgIiNqJTK9dnmvt1yeldHWCjFlGkfceWWTnp0L5C86Jhy0gFPPqOprWjcoMa9vnC4Mp5X212hkUhe4Ry9HVlD2eGBxbpENy4n5I0Z8y6uIHzfVo7B5_-zbDjdGSHr5bu-hiT0BMmcWoYlJ/s1080/There-is-a-time-for-everything.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfn8r25pVFd50ntM9JPHszyfGbEt2yVTfHMoxlyEUloxQElNgIiNqJTK9dnmvt1yeldHWCjFlGkfceWWTnp0L5C86Jhy0gFPPqOprWjcoMa9vnC4Mp5X212hkUhe4Ry9HVlD2eGBxbpENy4n5I0Z8y6uIHzfVo7B5_-zbDjdGSHr5bu-hiT0BMmcWoYlJ/s320/There-is-a-time-for-everything.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;">I don't know how many times in my life I have had to tell myself that it's all in GOD'S plan. Not mine. Even though I think I know best. Right now I feel like there is no plan at all. I'm frustrated with life. I'm sick of stupid little things going wrong, because those little things keep adding up to feel like BIG things. I don't see God's plan for me at all. The plan right now feels like I'm just meant to struggle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;">We don't always agree with God's plan. I will fully admit that I have questioned Him more times in my life than I probably should have. When I lost one baby... then another. When Allyson got sick. When Trudy got sick. When *I* got sick. When Allyson died way too soon.. When Trudy died way too soon. When Darren died way too soon in such a shocking way. I've asked God "WHY?" a lot. And of course, there's no answer. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2zpKZSls4ODBg2Y17FlwaKagnjcMZlX_ryfQepb9s1UP_jq1R7ZOJGxre3NzG_zc-Aeb0OqJX6x0zN8TgfoTnYUzfjfutYMivTvlwY6uz0s9Doh5pZtifkaUcMb3jawhHa2TBpCqVhXw86ze9fxBd5UAoZp66c34K3uQFwsQ6C6kSsEwdxL5yzCnCSep/s640/c729ba8a226018414ee07c060c075ea4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2zpKZSls4ODBg2Y17FlwaKagnjcMZlX_ryfQepb9s1UP_jq1R7ZOJGxre3NzG_zc-Aeb0OqJX6x0zN8TgfoTnYUzfjfutYMivTvlwY6uz0s9Doh5pZtifkaUcMb3jawhHa2TBpCqVhXw86ze9fxBd5UAoZp66c34K3uQFwsQ6C6kSsEwdxL5yzCnCSep/s320/c729ba8a226018414ee07c060c075ea4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;">I know I'm blessed. I have a loving family. I have a cozy, comfortable home. I have two jobs that I enjoy and help me provide for our family. I have my health (sort of). I don't take any of that for granted. But I am very weary. It's so hard to understand why everything I pray for is rejected. Or ignored. It feels like my hopes and prayers are insignificant. It's hard not to "lose heart" when everything your heart asks for is denied.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb2X7qkl83Jy5X6kVY0AJSyoIGnxe7c4zK5DXu3lrXdP11dJtZIbwgW_W3l7NT3Bkgya7g3L-rfRNMo2gE4YkgWjs3H4Hlki7gK42YJLMd39baw1apF3U_iSYsqKJPjNuUO1-BTEL9ZBFyMLpW7WO-Lo4IHsND15GZvpiS0yCRouwo6DCx1at-1gwueB5/s2048/3afabf748eed401e3ae1823282449956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZb2X7qkl83Jy5X6kVY0AJSyoIGnxe7c4zK5DXu3lrXdP11dJtZIbwgW_W3l7NT3Bkgya7g3L-rfRNMo2gE4YkgWjs3H4Hlki7gK42YJLMd39baw1apF3U_iSYsqKJPjNuUO1-BTEL9ZBFyMLpW7WO-Lo4IHsND15GZvpiS0yCRouwo6DCx1at-1gwueB5/s320/3afabf748eed401e3ae1823282449956.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;">I have been searching for Bible verses about struggling with your faith and not feeling closer to God. Hebrews 13:5 keeps coming up in my searches. I don't believe it right now, but I hope if I read it enough, pray it enough, that I will start to feel that this is true. Because right now I feel forsaken. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Shadows Into Light"; font-size: large;">Merry freaking Christmas.</span></div></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-31978076159880821222023-12-17T22:40:00.001-06:002023-12-17T22:40:58.104-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2732<p><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Do you ever feel sad even though you don't know why?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Do you feel lonely, even though you're surrounded by people?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Do you feel overwhelmed, even though there is more good than bad in your life?</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrf-pQPLI4s4B81bMWNSfTwlspPdn0UznVqf9FOSWuYE0vrk-XpavtxbduVKPoOkWyKDi1PIDM5dBJ4yFDd9Z139vr2eee5QPUmA55KeIgknqn8hALmggi1UMLrEvcbMctRD9tXWjLjDUHOCmFkIsyhdZlztbtbR09kX8eFwoa8ZFgdZpQcI5nUXl7Y5Ew/s500/f7b8a6723342ffcb4a4145ae81e0edd1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrf-pQPLI4s4B81bMWNSfTwlspPdn0UznVqf9FOSWuYE0vrk-XpavtxbduVKPoOkWyKDi1PIDM5dBJ4yFDd9Z139vr2eee5QPUmA55KeIgknqn8hALmggi1UMLrEvcbMctRD9tXWjLjDUHOCmFkIsyhdZlztbtbR09kX8eFwoa8ZFgdZpQcI5nUXl7Y5Ew/s320/f7b8a6723342ffcb4a4145ae81e0edd1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">This year has been HARD. <br />There haven't been any major catastrophes. No major illnesses. No deaths. No crisis we couldn't handle. But sometimes dozens of little things add up, and keep adding up, until everything feels like one big thing. Every time I tell my mom about something going on, she says "This is unbelievable. It's just one thing after another." It really is a case of, if we didn't have bad luck, we'd have no luck at all.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">All of these "things" piled on top of what is already an emotional year almost feels like too much sometimes. The last two months have been so hard on my heart.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYWBzisYadR4MB-QIzS-Bbyx6x7KM6jX1kEMEGYgf_D9MLABlujNpxJCpFIAtRIxPthcrdcmh0eIgjXfN-WNfsMjAKCmThjZxNoOv_ILa-sJC1PfVLPw9d70-h_jmKAroPOOlMnedaIJQodL2Y96SDQcjtJzmIh8q1NfNZHI3MCjexQYgKm_bYdADZ2pi/s4000/20231105_143228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYWBzisYadR4MB-QIzS-Bbyx6x7KM6jX1kEMEGYgf_D9MLABlujNpxJCpFIAtRIxPthcrdcmh0eIgjXfN-WNfsMjAKCmThjZxNoOv_ILa-sJC1PfVLPw9d70-h_jmKAroPOOlMnedaIJQodL2Y96SDQcjtJzmIh8q1NfNZHI3MCjexQYgKm_bYdADZ2pi/s320/20231105_143228.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">In early November, Jared moved 2 hours away to start training for a job with Union Pacific railroad. Even though I'm thrilled that he's able to start his dream job, it hasn't been easy adjusting to not having him here, in my everyday life. I saw a meme the other day that said "Texting your teenage son is like texting a guy who isn't interested in you." Ha ha. Jared is not a teen, but that is spot on. He's a man of few words, and other than keeping our snap streak alive, I rarely talk to him except for the occasional quick phone call or text. Logically I know this is just part of letting go, it's not easy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dymPaBTIEYfU-zh_VL5BML5pV6eoRd3UWTbJnGT61sU7E_Z9s4jd-YVPM0Nee4DLPWexMHOXgkojUV7a_Fl4w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Senior night for band ...even though Kelsie doesn't love band anymore, in a way it's the end of an era. I have loved being a band mom for a dozen years, and watching her stand with her fellow seniors while the band played It Is Well was so emotional. It was also the last home football game.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BV7TRz9JAWiy0Mqb2hIbUClsrpchzKf0EcMwPdOHvta8L2A2j34rTWr7TwCncwlPPIQfGBjwTggLkHG9I-8MNisu148NWtY_iU_IWSCrKHHhokdu92KB6IQZ3O3yv3hNWrLpT51TZg4lnbXh_2fOnVQUmixGIpJTvuVW0JFjoPwqAo5xBxGwZN8W727x/s4000/20231109_205853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1BV7TRz9JAWiy0Mqb2hIbUClsrpchzKf0EcMwPdOHvta8L2A2j34rTWr7TwCncwlPPIQfGBjwTggLkHG9I-8MNisu148NWtY_iU_IWSCrKHHhokdu92KB6IQZ3O3yv3hNWrLpT51TZg4lnbXh_2fOnVQUmixGIpJTvuVW0JFjoPwqAo5xBxGwZN8W727x/s320/20231109_205853.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">There were a few other "lasts" that hit hard. </span><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";">The last regular season game (which was the last time we saw the band march their show). We helped the band move the equipment so we could see them up close and personal one last time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC3R8-C5nv4VnaC7EXPkYBQt678AnWenLPlVRqbr8VAJFhJ0MPBZ78FOKmg4N8ZSn6AzscGK4s2XDK5RC6tVBzQX53tNtxr2T5IHlFtrxN_yBYwnN77q7FbfBXp4ExQiDNkFNOIJ3guBG4CMO_XJbJQAfHYdDTBCA3SWur7iVO8AXb9zRHqSs1s5z7d5W/s4000/20231103_201003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC3R8-C5nv4VnaC7EXPkYBQt678AnWenLPlVRqbr8VAJFhJ0MPBZ78FOKmg4N8ZSn6AzscGK4s2XDK5RC6tVBzQX53tNtxr2T5IHlFtrxN_yBYwnN77q7FbfBXp4ExQiDNkFNOIJ3guBG4CMO_XJbJQAfHYdDTBCA3SWur7iVO8AXb9zRHqSs1s5z7d5W/s320/20231103_201003.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">The last marching competition (Wylie finished 4th, 2 spots away from going to state).</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtFHEHyeh-yYKV-APeBFLuamq8qnuZ9NajEWDY1cZ_DmLxWTGFoymyLFOFPc7af72AumQl_3BgtTzPG5KG9tJEKDt8RviQXQpqnJOvrGp74mi0gj7EA73XM68kx4Sb1zFM1kHBZvRhNsoqaxBadRokhFKRAjekCEYd62g-ZehfRf4C23VijWCjRCmuGmw/s1080/FB_IMG_1698607757096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1080" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtFHEHyeh-yYKV-APeBFLuamq8qnuZ9NajEWDY1cZ_DmLxWTGFoymyLFOFPc7af72AumQl_3BgtTzPG5KG9tJEKDt8RviQXQpqnJOvrGp74mi0gj7EA73XM68kx4Sb1zFM1kHBZvRhNsoqaxBadRokhFKRAjekCEYd62g-ZehfRf4C23VijWCjRCmuGmw/s320/FB_IMG_1698607757096.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";">The first playoff pep rally, when the senior cheerleaders were recognized. There were tables set up in the lobby with so many memories documented, and their skit during the pep rally was to Taylor Swift's "Never Grow Up". </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFj0Y4XcQFm9yc_xQ3kNtR8kkmoHQKcENkGQ-zhxFoJpxacm53HZBemTyM3hBDpvT19HiW4-U7GzuXqBkhF_oAdtgBJbTlpbKUoVbv83WlFyEljgyH0GEKQaDVf_z_cFOGUKqJ3EbWddkwysezOo_0JSh3d-XzvwYt7-aEoepBz07u6S75uCFpek_zVZf/s3122/20231109_081200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3122" data-original-width="2192" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSFj0Y4XcQFm9yc_xQ3kNtR8kkmoHQKcENkGQ-zhxFoJpxacm53HZBemTyM3hBDpvT19HiW4-U7GzuXqBkhF_oAdtgBJbTlpbKUoVbv83WlFyEljgyH0GEKQaDVf_z_cFOGUKqJ3EbWddkwysezOo_0JSh3d-XzvwYt7-aEoepBz07u6S75uCFpek_zVZf/s320/20231109_081200.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">On the upswing of the emotional roller coaster was a fun road trip Kelsie and I took to Austin. We had VIP tickets to see Morgan Wallen. We ended up right next to the stage. I have always been a concert lover, and to be that close for my favorite artist with my best concert buddy next to me... we had an amazing time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrs0fECKHT-2Skxw8fm_LrZJ2nroH6rlyOqkY8jKO81qmPP31OsCzmlokzgEgQk66OSw9wDd-WoKozvvz46UO19cfNGBQwvIECLQVB-pyQerEkPe3xh8PWF6-W5wEzlkS-RGiCKswfrlEbRb3UVrwFt-yTJBAMVUkbcUU7vw7CNzzzE0Th9XaTTvp6vJdw/s1104/Snapchat-1370978521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="1104" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrs0fECKHT-2Skxw8fm_LrZJ2nroH6rlyOqkY8jKO81qmPP31OsCzmlokzgEgQk66OSw9wDd-WoKozvvz46UO19cfNGBQwvIECLQVB-pyQerEkPe3xh8PWF6-W5wEzlkS-RGiCKswfrlEbRb3UVrwFt-yTJBAMVUkbcUU7vw7CNzzzE0Th9XaTTvp6vJdw/s320/Snapchat-1370978521.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOZnJDp_31sn0MXxtxIaNidyE2okyfcXZghk6x5yAY7eJ3Do5XOH6kyveaVzUw82Oqa0gLXMsqCy3naev2r6Sr-VEOxJO7wy4r5KbQoYyZiYI8hJIe20RppgMVYAvg7XNKv50Zc3XdGXzX8XRqnadm_HpIlW0FIsMkOAE28n0qDqNhxFmYJtxzbACgGWR/s3648/20231116_230906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOZnJDp_31sn0MXxtxIaNidyE2okyfcXZghk6x5yAY7eJ3Do5XOH6kyveaVzUw82Oqa0gLXMsqCy3naev2r6Sr-VEOxJO7wy4r5KbQoYyZiYI8hJIe20RppgMVYAvg7XNKv50Zc3XdGXzX8XRqnadm_HpIlW0FIsMkOAE28n0qDqNhxFmYJtxzbACgGWR/s320/20231116_230906.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Boyd and I went to the Dallas Cowboys football game on Thanksgiving. When Justin was younger, Boyd would always take him to that game. This year we gave Justin tickets for his 40th birthday, but he didn't know we bought tickets, too. We kept it a surprise until we found him at the stadium. It was a big win and just a great day (and Dolly Parton sang the halftime show!!). </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0OD0wFUBL2zfEBzd5V43XHCnFJrMW_piKq_BCa81olwa3efkZq8F8UGQiuzCNwlE_L7N1if4YZO5qVtjfNcxmXj2LtOhlugA_9fg0fuXVnv9K4uGRxFGmN0HneN5agwj-en99W49ysY6AUHBYyAP63d_fMnafJY2_vphuxO7KgsPkaEKj67yCEhJ6T4K/s3648/20231123_140613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0OD0wFUBL2zfEBzd5V43XHCnFJrMW_piKq_BCa81olwa3efkZq8F8UGQiuzCNwlE_L7N1if4YZO5qVtjfNcxmXj2LtOhlugA_9fg0fuXVnv9K4uGRxFGmN0HneN5agwj-en99W49ysY6AUHBYyAP63d_fMnafJY2_vphuxO7KgsPkaEKj67yCEhJ6T4K/s320/20231123_140613.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlcJH2GhwnNmWh7E3wih5LPBY-3fcYAgji1S08HwRb3pukG3IpgRRLb81zxf2-UNY2NyoDrbSFisZfTEu_I4EXY2jjF0nPEDqEk0UGqW-nLMoKDoj68zZ_JZbnCt1tGPMQalk9ln2OfnOnNXOOpOrULYfaSg9iUPJ_JDwqB2F6jeG2VvqW7CzT8B5b4FY/s3353/20231123_185905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3353" data-original-width="2514" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlcJH2GhwnNmWh7E3wih5LPBY-3fcYAgji1S08HwRb3pukG3IpgRRLb81zxf2-UNY2NyoDrbSFisZfTEu_I4EXY2jjF0nPEDqEk0UGqW-nLMoKDoj68zZ_JZbnCt1tGPMQalk9ln2OfnOnNXOOpOrULYfaSg9iUPJ_JDwqB2F6jeG2VvqW7CzT8B5b4FY/s320/20231123_185905.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";"><br /></span></div>Jared was able to come home for the weekend, so we celebrated Thanksgiving with our little family, and Jared's 22nd birthday. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtwfkKuLTjYRFl92s0egm1iOOH7GcUuHWbiNVL-7MbIJgZ7N7l1B7vuTwP7DLcVvEQtKnOg8wljpcLlSXEKAJTMd3JNDXgTUEH-JeuSE9I6chjI0Y1CZgEIxEm5WQPHsSeTclLNZw6yXbaA7PxmIqUIbB42RMcy9i4Snzjbk1yz6qPYczXDSS0hmYj9MN/s2567/20231125_152903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2123" data-original-width="2567" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtwfkKuLTjYRFl92s0egm1iOOH7GcUuHWbiNVL-7MbIJgZ7N7l1B7vuTwP7DLcVvEQtKnOg8wljpcLlSXEKAJTMd3JNDXgTUEH-JeuSE9I6chjI0Y1CZgEIxEm5WQPHsSeTclLNZw6yXbaA7PxmIqUIbB42RMcy9i4Snzjbk1yz6qPYczXDSS0hmYj9MN/s320/20231125_152903.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAj-X9zWENlPaqpgkepSkYxNGcaalXE0bQjaZQWvKBmU_coj9HZwfq93MJnWov7HShDWaKZF6xRsaHRcPOCAwqyUfZCWDodtYatT2BboLZbanqauEj3hgIMFEhShfArIt_5rFMERKmACQbAR5-Wd7WLtEvUJMomGDuS_v1LNgvEGJCQBmwHNj1EpdSCpR/s4000/20231125_161506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAj-X9zWENlPaqpgkepSkYxNGcaalXE0bQjaZQWvKBmU_coj9HZwfq93MJnWov7HShDWaKZF6xRsaHRcPOCAwqyUfZCWDodtYatT2BboLZbanqauEj3hgIMFEhShfArIt_5rFMERKmACQbAR5-Wd7WLtEvUJMomGDuS_v1LNgvEGJCQBmwHNj1EpdSCpR/s320/20231125_161506.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">One of the things that has made everything so much harder is that I've been sick for WEEKS. I am always a "wait and see" person, trying to push through on my own, but I finally caved. I went to the walk-in emergency clinic and was diagnosed with a sinus infection and bronchitis. The antibiotic they gave me made me very sick, so I couldn't take it. I tried to tough it out, but two days later I ended up in the emergency room. My cough was awful, I felt like I was going to pass out, I couldn't eat, my chest hurt and then my arm gave me a cellulitis scare. I needed help. Unfortunately they didn't really do anything for me other than prescribe nausea meds so I could take the antibiotic, and gave me an inhaler. I am STILL coughing constantly and it's just dragging me down.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">I was so sad to be feeling so bad for so long, because it took my energy away from Christmas. I LOVE Christmas.... the meaning of it, the music, the decorations, the traditions... everything. And I just couldn't do ANYthing except for some online shopping. Thankfully my mom came for a visit in early December and helped me decorate, including putting up our tree. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX4KMHrK7brqQ-6ca5iulkgAHoE6n43H46eLbzZYOJSLBrEO-FMsBZ1re9DpxoFhUhG9DZdAU9phLdK_dSlc_ynOvsUH4LAJTEHdxJ6NK4EbB7Sfm4X5l1YjouZo6XNzNqIutndBIzrGNa63N5fI2lmthAOAsEBor93W17YepBLwCL7yqq5-OqlQyMCrv/s4000/20231211_142518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX4KMHrK7brqQ-6ca5iulkgAHoE6n43H46eLbzZYOJSLBrEO-FMsBZ1re9DpxoFhUhG9DZdAU9phLdK_dSlc_ynOvsUH4LAJTEHdxJ6NK4EbB7Sfm4X5l1YjouZo6XNzNqIutndBIzrGNa63N5fI2lmthAOAsEBor93W17YepBLwCL7yqq5-OqlQyMCrv/s320/20231211_142518.jpg" width="192" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">Something that we have been looking forward to for months was Kelsie performing with Wylie Theatre in Mamma Mia. She auditioned and was cast in the role she wanted, and she was spectacular. The students worked so hard for weeks, and it showed. The cast was outstanding and every performance was phenomenal. They did four shows and I could have watched it four more times. I absolutely LOVED watching my girl shine on stage, and the whole production was fabulous. At the end of the last show, I couldn't keep it together when I saw Kels crying while dancing and trying to smile through her tears during their last number. Even though they have other plays next semester, this was the last musical, and it was a big one. Kelsie was thrilled to play Tanya in Mamma Mia, and it was so bittersweet for her and her friends when it was all over. (I have way too many photos and videos from those shows, so I'll make a separate post.)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDQH_GBTQJ34vFRg-sxcTgXSJUny9jLlwFIezlB-VQ9Mvbs7Zrw4AzOt8Qnci9wRZBa19Tfx3-qMh1cLlVhx3HDM7_lFeBovMWyusZYj3Gkkp1zl5yuvRXpIUn1YFXPHqofCYaxtm_XpzheC7GN_AJBKfbpJHbJsdPwb9yF9vcRlY0eQji6lgiSiJXHra/s1919/20231210_162143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1919" data-original-width="1389" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRDQH_GBTQJ34vFRg-sxcTgXSJUny9jLlwFIezlB-VQ9Mvbs7Zrw4AzOt8Qnci9wRZBa19Tfx3-qMh1cLlVhx3HDM7_lFeBovMWyusZYj3Gkkp1zl5yuvRXpIUn1YFXPHqofCYaxtm_XpzheC7GN_AJBKfbpJHbJsdPwb9yF9vcRlY0eQji6lgiSiJXHra/s320/20231210_162143.jpg" width="232" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;">The day after my mom went back home was Kelsie's last band Christmas concert. It was the last time I will hear her play It Is Well (the band usually plays it TO the seniors at the spring concert). There are so many "lasts" and each one is starting to feel heavier than the one before.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Crete Round;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5UzGLtSmKX2Hl4J2m2KrDqqW6Lpdi3S1e0feaxh9_RozLZEEd72BuAyS1B7kccdbLv8BpDPBGKB2lhTU3n_a50v4yHrPFrWjQvT5WFvT7CHGscrY8cQJGSPia2LsHRjOZCYg2OJDgVxayocC6HhsVjjW0W3CpJzhKmWCk6GPdhkx_4Ku9gZeubUuq6yW/s4000/20231214_195800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5UzGLtSmKX2Hl4J2m2KrDqqW6Lpdi3S1e0feaxh9_RozLZEEd72BuAyS1B7kccdbLv8BpDPBGKB2lhTU3n_a50v4yHrPFrWjQvT5WFvT7CHGscrY8cQJGSPia2LsHRjOZCYg2OJDgVxayocC6HhsVjjW0W3CpJzhKmWCk6GPdhkx_4Ku9gZeubUuq6yW/s320/20231214_195800.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";">I want to stop being stressed and overwhelmed by life. I want to stop coughing. I want our cars to stop breaking down. I want to stop worrying about money (hello Christmas!). I want time with my family, to enjoy simple things like Christmas lights and watching a movie. I want to soak in every "last" that comes our way with Kelsie these next six months, and not cry over every single one. I want peace.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Crete Round";">I want to have a merry Christmas, and I 100% want 2024 to be a happy new year for my family.</span></div></div></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-68058316546826759292023-11-05T23:14:00.000-06:002023-11-05T23:14:32.301-06:00Kicking Cancer's Ass - day 2690This is a cry for help...if you are the mom of a son who has grown up and spread his wings to start his life separate from the life he's always lived with you... how do you handle it?<div><br /></div><div>I'm failing. Epically.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuE8Mr2IH0J9SbFTdOU6mj5EsF_5x7eD18Fc7QeKEw_zircOIEZjvyC1NBQztxYjUBOF1OqnlFN5Ibp72_bnxIzVSlEM7QZIag4HzSZzDuUUTL0dSRw3q-HCcP3OOUpRIWmwRFT8VMHpf9yDVehSPNC6eJFNKzgDQXnSjrqJt8FPUgCwDgZaBdWmSao7w/s2048/399749967_10229271258062609_7290838561655048757_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLuE8Mr2IH0J9SbFTdOU6mj5EsF_5x7eD18Fc7QeKEw_zircOIEZjvyC1NBQztxYjUBOF1OqnlFN5Ibp72_bnxIzVSlEM7QZIag4HzSZzDuUUTL0dSRw3q-HCcP3OOUpRIWmwRFT8VMHpf9yDVehSPNC6eJFNKzgDQXnSjrqJt8FPUgCwDgZaBdWmSao7w/s320/399749967_10229271258062609_7290838561655048757_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today Hubby and I helped J moved to Aledo, which is two hours away. It might as well be on the moon for how far away he seems. I've basically been crying for 24 hours straight. My heart is broken. I'm embarrassed to say that I'm being 1000% selfish, because there is NO WAY that my sadness should eclipse my happiness for him. But right now that sadness is hanging over my head like a big, big, BIG black cloud and I don't know how to get out from under it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know that this is part of life. He's almost 22 years old. He's ready to be out on his own, finding his own way, making his own path to a happy life. I just don't know how to wrap my heart around the fact that his new happy life does not coexist with my every day happy life... and that makes me very unhappy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2SktEaxfDwLdq28KXlymm7O43qJvT03UqNLjkeWLIrtJEu1e4kGiE3wcpf72v8g4j1OV832reoGee3pZwGNN7FSogM9IFyKsSw7jtixsunwINWdj_2QkbtbWLUjL7aQp9UoR_annzwK1XcUzn34U8WvTCllP640Jx1RREaVcoTZ9yvWrQqcxqUi-ET5A/s320/2001photo10004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="218" data-original-width="320" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2SktEaxfDwLdq28KXlymm7O43qJvT03UqNLjkeWLIrtJEu1e4kGiE3wcpf72v8g4j1OV832reoGee3pZwGNN7FSogM9IFyKsSw7jtixsunwINWdj_2QkbtbWLUjL7aQp9UoR_annzwK1XcUzn34U8WvTCllP640Jx1RREaVcoTZ9yvWrQqcxqUi-ET5A/s1600/2001photo10004.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I look at this picture, when Jared was just two days old, and I can't even IMAGINE that I just left him on his own two hours away in a town where he doesn't know anyone. Hubby calls J a "mama's boy", and he's right. From day one he has been the light of my life. I have absolutely loved being a mom... being his mom... Kelsie is Daddy's little girl. Jared is my guy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Logically I know I'm still his mom. And he'll probably always be a "mama's boy". But I feel like I lost a part of me today. I won't get to see him every day (it will be weeks or months). I won't get to cook him dinner or share my leftovers. I won't get to have breakfast dates on a random work day or pop in to his RV in front of the house to say hi. I won't be there to help him when he's sick or hurt or just feeling sad. I won't be able to call him to ask for yet another favor. To be honest, I don't know how to come to terms with the fact that I am now a mother without a "job" where he is concerned. I know he will still need my guidance and advice, and I know he will always need my love. But he doesn't need ME.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1Y8dzZYfK_Ir8_-UKUmFvHoxV1npOrGEhbxg0YK2vSmjGCqB6qPVnFa0nwfSG6bBzp0sExpKKgg7-Aoa7o9LJUC7Ykjls65B7fWq_qimRWbJFBBaaiODaWgDUe37GseAAwgmB3yGqMbYTUuUDJmPDPor3EX6NUFKAtbsO2vaqPdVTJVoJdt22RAzoluG/s320/20191025_093430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1Y8dzZYfK_Ir8_-UKUmFvHoxV1npOrGEhbxg0YK2vSmjGCqB6qPVnFa0nwfSG6bBzp0sExpKKgg7-Aoa7o9LJUC7Ykjls65B7fWq_qimRWbJFBBaaiODaWgDUe37GseAAwgmB3yGqMbYTUuUDJmPDPor3EX6NUFKAtbsO2vaqPdVTJVoJdt22RAzoluG/s1600/20191025_093430.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The problem is, I still need him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTEQFSJyTtYczWNFG2OMZ9hpDImvLE3nXJ3yr8kmr8IxQ2om0YWUZvX9xZaPXRIAzECAfvfn98PEZrOXi4wYP2nZUMf2lQ7S9trjaydnW7pnvvvguyNecK6rTdte1oE1q8-ArHlLXlW633rQGoGT1WzfpIOjrA6VQWV01q-sTtyw2pKIxittwGiSmkRZ6/s320/Picture_0652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="320" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTEQFSJyTtYczWNFG2OMZ9hpDImvLE3nXJ3yr8kmr8IxQ2om0YWUZvX9xZaPXRIAzECAfvfn98PEZrOXi4wYP2nZUMf2lQ7S9trjaydnW7pnvvvguyNecK6rTdte1oE1q8-ArHlLXlW633rQGoGT1WzfpIOjrA6VQWV01q-sTtyw2pKIxittwGiSmkRZ6/s1600/Picture_0652.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Eventually I will have to figure out how to get over myself and just be HAPPY that my son is going out into the world to chase his dream. Isn't that what every mother wants? Jared has been in love with trains his whole life. He would scream every time I'd make him leave the train table at Toys R Us. He became the youngest member of Abilene's model railroad club at age 8. He just resigned as president last week because he's moving. For his senior trip I took him on an overnight Amtrak ride to the National Transportation Museum in St. Louis. He never wanted to go to college and had no interest in pursuing any other career.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfYpk_wQKFDpU7IA4I8mNwlQj8yy7PmQVM5WV2AH9-yY-ERf1kUfJvjV0_gVHPWfTXjyW10EP2SMLS5U7dWGEsb4A9Imga00-GUQdotIBTC-9S9DEUf1OyZ5XwqPmtsgglw_T9pgb9_zT0sJEutwmdvEGY9s_e0pkAgEgsv9TRME8XU44PGfibmN_g1pU/s1179/20191227_112437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="1179" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfYpk_wQKFDpU7IA4I8mNwlQj8yy7PmQVM5WV2AH9-yY-ERf1kUfJvjV0_gVHPWfTXjyW10EP2SMLS5U7dWGEsb4A9Imga00-GUQdotIBTC-9S9DEUf1OyZ5XwqPmtsgglw_T9pgb9_zT0sJEutwmdvEGY9s_e0pkAgEgsv9TRME8XU44PGfibmN_g1pU/s320/20191227_112437.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5PqnuU4N6C2ZUHUfVTbvW33tHQNStlYvqU0_FsZKw8hyphenhypheni9-N5CJsWxBeF3SZeNH1qOYKVvU5bTVMQlu-4En9kmSqDwclmq_-v91yZ2ZnGRz4DwKbbvExPLM1ifKcYxYhdFrM5aNX9UYalv5lxvJvbr585IDeDsZRbARb4AjsreG6vU_4G9PKCnSpq56v/s320/20170706_093616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5PqnuU4N6C2ZUHUfVTbvW33tHQNStlYvqU0_FsZKw8hyphenhypheni9-N5CJsWxBeF3SZeNH1qOYKVvU5bTVMQlu-4En9kmSqDwclmq_-v91yZ2ZnGRz4DwKbbvExPLM1ifKcYxYhdFrM5aNX9UYalv5lxvJvbr585IDeDsZRbARb4AjsreG6vU_4G9PKCnSpq56v/s1600/20170706_093616.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7TmTXRwkEDJ4dab2y-gUc_y-NE-qGx1r06LwwV1viH0v5Rx9fFDyHXYsKRlY86JpfmgEyAymfQoB-4Re0yFujmbAyo8vdyY18NTWlsIsTDqM_jFVwJPOn3EP14Ulfn_65BpG5fR5wEmoqX_2asTmK2-KCHPzJXZFxnWTNkxgNcpuAFfeLa2W9zryoYws/s1179/20191227_111900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="1179" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7TmTXRwkEDJ4dab2y-gUc_y-NE-qGx1r06LwwV1viH0v5Rx9fFDyHXYsKRlY86JpfmgEyAymfQoB-4Re0yFujmbAyo8vdyY18NTWlsIsTDqM_jFVwJPOn3EP14Ulfn_65BpG5fR5wEmoqX_2asTmK2-KCHPzJXZFxnWTNkxgNcpuAFfeLa2W9zryoYws/s320/20191227_111900.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For YEARS, it has been Jared's dream to go work for the railroad. Being a conductor and eventually an engineer is all he's ever wanted to do. He applied for a train crew job a few months ago (which is training for conductor and then later on engineer) and was offered the job. Unfortunately the semi-local training class at the location where he was hired filled up before all of his paperwork was cleared, so the only other option was to take the next training class in Fort Worth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Despite my sadness, I am ridiculously overjoyed that he is finally, finally able to start working towards his dream job. There is nothing in the world I would want to get in the way of that... especially myself. Even though it means a lot of changes (quitting a longtime job, moving to a new city, temporary long-distance relationship with his girlfriend), he is excited and beyond ready to take this next step.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsZfclBnvDBW3NwepoQr1chqo2TV-rPOxXX9kOMWsLlR38kpc2GUAjMo3dC9bAb39WTYUPSWETM-dm8CquqISWD315YiilLWDHY98PDtcr5h3tSK3yDo1EKL3eDtsrFmxxZCC6hTxuEg4cyp909Hp22ToeIHTOixocLmLZkzCQ0hG-r4pVdFquRG5dkr2/s320/20190720_132445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsZfclBnvDBW3NwepoQr1chqo2TV-rPOxXX9kOMWsLlR38kpc2GUAjMo3dC9bAb39WTYUPSWETM-dm8CquqISWD315YiilLWDHY98PDtcr5h3tSK3yDo1EKL3eDtsrFmxxZCC6hTxuEg4cyp909Hp22ToeIHTOixocLmLZkzCQ0hG-r4pVdFquRG5dkr2/s1600/20190720_132445.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There has been a lot of "heavy" in my life lately, so this day, this emotional blow, feels like a knockout punch. Jared is the kindest, most caring and thoughtful and generous young man. He's smart and quirky and funny and loyal to a fault. He has the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and he gives the best hugs. I just miss him so much already. And I need guidance on how to ease into this new normal. Because right now none of this feels normal at all and my heart just hurts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTsjUciuNeQbsz_I7jv1zQUTaMCu78R7pMADQHTRQ61gL_hUpjrZy9wxNlU6syvj9r92YbzAhoWuvoPIYhSPWEIan6jwl6jjGPqbLLJgpEcmWdzJ49Ss3L7cw1BhvlzJ5xTHYIDQJo-oR6gPCftggLGqawr92Y3-IfH8agxhivMCR0EuRGNfP1S1UfECQ/s879/391752110_10229161818766695_3597621992527414269_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="629" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTsjUciuNeQbsz_I7jv1zQUTaMCu78R7pMADQHTRQ61gL_hUpjrZy9wxNlU6syvj9r92YbzAhoWuvoPIYhSPWEIan6jwl6jjGPqbLLJgpEcmWdzJ49Ss3L7cw1BhvlzJ5xTHYIDQJo-oR6gPCftggLGqawr92Y3-IfH8agxhivMCR0EuRGNfP1S1UfECQ/s320/391752110_10229161818766695_3597621992527414269_n.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I pray that Jared and Ripley have the most fun starting this new chapter. I hope that his job is everything he always dreamed it would be. I hope that he loves living where he is. I hope that he makes friends. I hope that he's not lonely. I hope Brooke goes to stay with him often. I hope he stays safe and healthy and happy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He's a hard worker and doesn't ask for much, so supporting him in this one thing that he's always dreamed of doing needs to be my focus now. If you're reading this, please just pray that I can move past the broken heart of an empty nest mom and learn how to be the mom he needs me to be now.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jared, I love you so much. You're an amazing young man and I'm so proud of you for taking this opportunity. I will pray daily for you to be safe, content and fulfilled. And I will miss you more than you could ever know. You're my best guy. xoxo</div></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-73794420136675563772023-08-01T00:00:00.002-05:002023-08-01T00:10:48.561-05:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2594<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdYgnK1ZI46KTLOkhhEc9FbSo-h-mJlj2Gi5WB-VfRuKRcMYEqhecUVKmVmUIxVblgr_XQFmkpxj3AsjjBkzIDnrzfDeT_RdPprbu0mqf0C33oXKMrWCE20FruRXKTAvVPckV04ATGzGA4R84uy0TvKAj5Y9UAOx0lfiaihe3UENe8vU9WraXpYg0-lwL/s750/140_750x750_Front_Color-White.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdYgnK1ZI46KTLOkhhEc9FbSo-h-mJlj2Gi5WB-VfRuKRcMYEqhecUVKmVmUIxVblgr_XQFmkpxj3AsjjBkzIDnrzfDeT_RdPprbu0mqf0C33oXKMrWCE20FruRXKTAvVPckV04ATGzGA4R84uy0TvKAj5Y9UAOx0lfiaihe3UENe8vU9WraXpYg0-lwL/w227-h227/140_750x750_Front_Color-White.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ten years ago today, I received the phone call nobody wants to answer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I remember that day so vividly... I already knew, the minute I found the lump weeks earlier, that it was cancer. That phone call was just a formality, diagnosis confirmed after testing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Even though <b>I knew</b>, I still wasn't prepared to hear "You have cancer". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">August 2013 is a complete blur to me. I was an emotional wreck. I couldn't talk to anyone on the phone, not even my mother. My poor husband had to be the go-between for all of my doctor appointments because I couldn't even handle that. Telling my kids that I had cancer was the single worst day of my life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The only thing that broke through my fog of misery, the only person who I allowed to reach me, was my dear friend Allyson. She had been fighting her own cancer battle for YEARS, and she knew exactly what to say and how to say it. I am forever grateful to her for that conversation, and all of the ones that followed, because she taught me how to hold on to my faith in the middle of a war.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The last ten years have not been easy. At age 40 I was diagnosed with Stage III invasive, aggressive breast cancer, and I was positive for the BRCA2 gene mutation (which puts me at higher risk for a lot of other cancers). I had sixteen weeks of chemo, thirty-three days of radiation and twelve surgeries. I have been on Tamoxifen, an estrogen blocker, since 2014. I will probably be on it indefinitely.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My body and my emotions have taken a beating, and there are scars, but I am SO GRATEFUL to be able to say I am a TEN year survivor.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is what ten years of fighting cancer looks like:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtBuVmfc20sZNSK9sUdnHKEc8TdQnrSjYk90SRR3qiK7Z67i-Y5QI0_qDfWZlU0Sol8hP868JiX-o3qsea3CM_zhCgJdDTIyyHQjTwD_wnJMoL5x0MX2bAV4zuRrWzCIZYJubO6-rCBrdj0vPvB32moRfq5PrGE3OXK1qdPDgovyXUBj4rpn7c_D21Rje/s1836/20230727_224158.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="1836" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJtBuVmfc20sZNSK9sUdnHKEc8TdQnrSjYk90SRR3qiK7Z67i-Y5QI0_qDfWZlU0Sol8hP868JiX-o3qsea3CM_zhCgJdDTIyyHQjTwD_wnJMoL5x0MX2bAV4zuRrWzCIZYJubO6-rCBrdj0vPvB32moRfq5PrGE3OXK1qdPDgovyXUBj4rpn7c_D21Rje/s320/20230727_224158.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">July 2013... in the best shape of my life. I would be a <br />cancer patient a few weeks later.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvquFSVniQoY-ylTQ1eWnV3mCdHuL0i8o82NI6UFxHmjDF12qkhDL4mR4Pbe56_gpEc4Aj9uF-Q0V_6EUkhHyAbRlcdPk4tZR5GUiCEJaIIHXQHKfk1U8r62v5VGs2NfJYImz5AHSixswILEgXPW0ToddbE5ojpgqe4bfYhhdvoPUoDnYeOY3aZL4VGUC/s3183/IMG_20140202_202327657.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="3183" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvquFSVniQoY-ylTQ1eWnV3mCdHuL0i8o82NI6UFxHmjDF12qkhDL4mR4Pbe56_gpEc4Aj9uF-Q0V_6EUkhHyAbRlcdPk4tZR5GUiCEJaIIHXQHKfk1U8r62v5VGs2NfJYImz5AHSixswILEgXPW0ToddbE5ojpgqe4bfYhhdvoPUoDnYeOY3aZL4VGUC/s320/IMG_20140202_202327657.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My first birthday after cancer... in between chemo & radiation. <br />First major surgery done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lost my friend Allyson later that year.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkn7onxDIN_hn73xBgBrRsaAxVNQnq6j_gUPyKqqTobYkeQTEtwAi8IBfr3480pupdIAMX_Vl5p7mOQP7gl5zTnNUJtZwzq1qrIw2XfCsrdrZbHnZHTRf4xVqis2g3L5HYEjIJG58UvVIR8YN4Cv__R21_klm_2JKoc831L7AUVeo1K59Z9i0lq1oh_hJd/s2580/20230727_224346.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="2580" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkn7onxDIN_hn73xBgBrRsaAxVNQnq6j_gUPyKqqTobYkeQTEtwAi8IBfr3480pupdIAMX_Vl5p7mOQP7gl5zTnNUJtZwzq1qrIw2XfCsrdrZbHnZHTRf4xVqis2g3L5HYEjIJG58UvVIR8YN4Cv__R21_klm_2JKoc831L7AUVeo1K59Z9i0lq1oh_hJd/s320/20230727_224346.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cancer treatment DONE. Reconstruction DONE. <br />Hysterectomy DONE.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0b-urehWpoN0CIPUB45B1Xwu7ZxYIpsOIuU39ooJ5z6KT4q36_NBBFvWXtuTx0iWnnAezFsA8LMJU9VeWWrwxT7lLCxq52M8M7bBk7yemKBFkm6BxoUFhaavSGX4NW4uqV139oIv6nqE9QZT94wEHqN3AHF52aJBM9yZ2uukEh2y_WpSz1JLFEcuRO6z/s2592/20230727_224421.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0b-urehWpoN0CIPUB45B1Xwu7ZxYIpsOIuU39ooJ5z6KT4q36_NBBFvWXtuTx0iWnnAezFsA8LMJU9VeWWrwxT7lLCxq52M8M7bBk7yemKBFkm6BxoUFhaavSGX4NW4uqV139oIv6nqE9QZT94wEHqN3AHF52aJBM9yZ2uukEh2y_WpSz1JLFEcuRO6z/s320/20230727_224421.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Three years after diagnosis... almost back to "normal".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lost Barbara, my BFF's mom, my second mom, that year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">FU cancer.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIL0OIak237ReOP6l_acCfZP9y4cIdGm0bU8_hEURLFQ1Js4TFZ8YNPIwYLsI8-Lt7T_ZLpxGOr-35RUaWWlOXvgI_QssCTEIv8We_Z4cgNMWej-iQ5cSCaboLdFzY-JaBRLYBA2cSrg_5QmKMCrG4cOl6es9BaBtKTPIfQEzmJ5PMA1wYyjFOmIWvUw8a/s2592/20230727_224451.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIL0OIak237ReOP6l_acCfZP9y4cIdGm0bU8_hEURLFQ1Js4TFZ8YNPIwYLsI8-Lt7T_ZLpxGOr-35RUaWWlOXvgI_QssCTEIv8We_Z4cgNMWej-iQ5cSCaboLdFzY-JaBRLYBA2cSrg_5QmKMCrG4cOl6es9BaBtKTPIfQEzmJ5PMA1wYyjFOmIWvUw8a/s320/20230727_224451.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />Cancer is the gift that keeps on giving...<br />lymphedema never gets better, never goes away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is my new normal.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4okxhnYdynWPQn24AyTn7mawD3qCWVXmg49KfVrIp1XejGNIicU8VmgdLc8_0RH7lAItPzXGwEHVfrdk0leu3r7u2Yt65mQY1oh5j29UJf2sQp1HP-WDePxprA_QQAWoYs3pMCtlvNg2qNYlCZH6_b7u5A-_Uj0Y1zFjqiRlBrFG1RwiNoHeuEHsRo1K/s2592/20230727_224636.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4okxhnYdynWPQn24AyTn7mawD3qCWVXmg49KfVrIp1XejGNIicU8VmgdLc8_0RH7lAItPzXGwEHVfrdk0leu3r7u2Yt65mQY1oh5j29UJf2sQp1HP-WDePxprA_QQAWoYs3pMCtlvNg2qNYlCZH6_b7u5A-_Uj0Y1zFjqiRlBrFG1RwiNoHeuEHsRo1K/s320/20230727_224636.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lost my BFF to breast cancer right after my birthday in 2018.<br />Pink out has a whole different meaning to me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had almost the exact same diagnosis.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5x_XHZtPQY34nAzEJbo24uYcCl18lnJ6npi_eCnoMwycO59LRYPLuNpgYjBg1R6LTj-WULCCXvX3ZYrfHBLp-DavR3mHPwW_bsVweuI_Qpn2eRWS-cYIkNRdaFZqC2PEtXR5tIIysxaboT7ip2ftn1GphLOvozV-ZUgQnrQ-R4HeJDQU33DZXdLEyo8Q/s2592/20230727_224717.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="2592" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5x_XHZtPQY34nAzEJbo24uYcCl18lnJ6npi_eCnoMwycO59LRYPLuNpgYjBg1R6LTj-WULCCXvX3ZYrfHBLp-DavR3mHPwW_bsVweuI_Qpn2eRWS-cYIkNRdaFZqC2PEtXR5tIIysxaboT7ip2ftn1GphLOvozV-ZUgQnrQ-R4HeJDQU33DZXdLEyo8Q/s320/20230727_224717.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lost my brother that year... but gained this little buddy.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcykhNXdkZKsYBRghdXxl9syWiEv5SxwXHLriehgrcagy8VLU8FEUWCg3VHaMd74OQAgm-n4t-5GbvG7lSNGYD6eDGHsB0r673U8JOz0Vtzg21HH5dPQnsKKfB7EoJoNrCVX0BHz7dVcKk5S9OdonYlaOJ-qhFBvOD9tA5g1-086-mqB0C8deG0nydGjD/s2952/20230727_224749.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2952" data-original-width="2202" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcykhNXdkZKsYBRghdXxl9syWiEv5SxwXHLriehgrcagy8VLU8FEUWCg3VHaMd74OQAgm-n4t-5GbvG7lSNGYD6eDGHsB0r673U8JOz0Vtzg21HH5dPQnsKKfB7EoJoNrCVX0BHz7dVcKk5S9OdonYlaOJ-qhFBvOD9tA5g1-086-mqB0C8deG0nydGjD/s320/20230727_224749.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I honestly did not know if I would be alive to see my kids graduate when the time came.<br />Little did I know, cancer wouldn't be the problem. COVID was.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcbBD9u2VU2TlMHZXT-I4pnQsxTyOu5F0PIdx_9-CRK5jerFhAS8ngJfy2-gLljjUInOQY1tp-lKlmdXJXoYaBHA5dCrYvBKGGhcabR0q3xT24ZC0Jjui6Qfvzjdw5fWcrksD1LTfLL3_VOKY5A-KNKSQcCfW8N-4FQDQAiP6N3pfh9AWQ9V20VDksigp/s3648/20230727_224818.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcbBD9u2VU2TlMHZXT-I4pnQsxTyOu5F0PIdx_9-CRK5jerFhAS8ngJfy2-gLljjUInOQY1tp-lKlmdXJXoYaBHA5dCrYvBKGGhcabR0q3xT24ZC0Jjui6Qfvzjdw5fWcrksD1LTfLL3_VOKY5A-KNKSQcCfW8N-4FQDQAiP6N3pfh9AWQ9V20VDksigp/s320/20230727_224818.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Celebrating 20 years with this man... the most incredible trip ever.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">St Thomas, USVI October 2021</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4kiTR-WfhHHZxyxAJ03FrePFBmhThWXziKJuhw9xhEs6m5K4e7J9F2Ow6EFd-aMa7GSVxujC52L7uSVvfGcttBeRvjQa7-dfPkDAiWGBKjd21Rz0FB7d3ykKy8qSCxRgdAshOM8YL1kyS6AvhP2esKBKOFe39bTdpjHXWgTVVEjbbn23Wap3DIntBx85/s926/20230727_224849.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb4kiTR-WfhHHZxyxAJ03FrePFBmhThWXziKJuhw9xhEs6m5K4e7J9F2Ow6EFd-aMa7GSVxujC52L7uSVvfGcttBeRvjQa7-dfPkDAiWGBKjd21Rz0FB7d3ykKy8qSCxRgdAshOM8YL1kyS6AvhP2esKBKOFe39bTdpjHXWgTVVEjbbn23Wap3DIntBx85/s320/20230727_224849.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pink hair for October. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lost my dad early last year.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1-5AAl8et3T-2Op_uEhcRIH02GjlaqMb17t5vxXRAMePr4HWgwon75VkPpQHqwlWGXMi2zNOB5FuE7J9zBf6b8AmMAgz3wsKagFL9XQO3uiV0MgpQqhflQFM5_OjPnf0-IjJOjTohy8KJL0Ph-Xi_TLstFzK4Up6ZMo9X1FQPtXJj1YPpbphuwTnTAta/s1280/20230727_224917.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv1-5AAl8et3T-2Op_uEhcRIH02GjlaqMb17t5vxXRAMePr4HWgwon75VkPpQHqwlWGXMi2zNOB5FuE7J9zBf6b8AmMAgz3wsKagFL9XQO3uiV0MgpQqhflQFM5_OjPnf0-IjJOjTohy8KJL0Ph-Xi_TLstFzK4Up6ZMo9X1FQPtXJj1YPpbphuwTnTAta/s320/20230727_224917.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is 50. This is a decade of life after cancer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is 10 years of surviving everything cancer has thrown at me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have the best husband.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have the most amazing children. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am blessed with fabulous friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cancer tried to kill me ten years ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>I'm still winning.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you're in my corner, you mean more to me than you will ever know, and I could NOT do one day of this stupid journey without you. </div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-32631073281415459482023-05-30T00:00:00.006-05:002023-05-30T09:19:20.076-05:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2532<p><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiUHz_qlPYBPlLhgLp9BmnEZqFW42O0vLhYq07kFvwRYlAq0981_pPBTOiX4lW-1Oia_nKZ2hmR1p6lsti3ovgU-zGJORSTOwcHSwhJGGo6eOccY995KdcxynaO5Ip_t1_-Zu3oPRE-61v93ANIfNai0nNAfwbxCug4tWDJ2tH-Axk6AbED4fHUqvEQ/s2560/baby-name-kelsie-clickbabynames-scaled.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="2560" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiUHz_qlPYBPlLhgLp9BmnEZqFW42O0vLhYq07kFvwRYlAq0981_pPBTOiX4lW-1Oia_nKZ2hmR1p6lsti3ovgU-zGJORSTOwcHSwhJGGo6eOccY995KdcxynaO5Ip_t1_-Zu3oPRE-61v93ANIfNai0nNAfwbxCug4tWDJ2tH-Axk6AbED4fHUqvEQ/w428-h128/baby-name-kelsie-clickbabynames-scaled.jpg" width="428" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>Do you know what the name Kelsie means?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>According to Google, and American Baby Names, It means "Brave".</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It also means "Victorious ship", but that's kinda weird. </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>Do you know what the name Kelsie means to me?</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means joy. </b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">It means loyalty.</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means fun.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means fearless.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means laughter.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means beauty.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means faith.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means drama.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>It means light.</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">It means marching to the beat of your own drum.</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">(This font I'm using is called "Indie flower", which is the perfect description for Kelsie.)</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyykQQitppidfKcSHJDY7qAGL7bKZZBRT2gK_sP3TlE4-WVBY2Xq3YgSIFqQipwPr95eDYbo_72h3HAA3epIw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>Over the last seventeen years, our Kelsie has done some pretty amazing things.</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She excels at school (when she wants to make the effort).</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She learned to play the clarinet and bass clarinet.</b></span></span></li><li><b style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">She goes away to church camp every summer and it's the best week of the year for her.</span></b></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She played a dozen years of fastpitch softball, half of those as a pitcher.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She played basketball.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She fell asleep in the middle of her first Taylor Swift concert. And her second. And a Dallas Cowboys game.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She played tennis.</b></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She flies by the seat of her pants and enjoys every second.</b></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has been a part of the varsity cast for theatre since freshman year.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has made a lot of friends and lost some really close friends.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She sang the national anthem in public.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She texts with the spelling of a first grader. Decifering "Kelsie speak" is my new talent.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has competed in Prose and Poetry and UIL writing for school.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has been baptized -twice. Once as a baby, and once as her choice to accept Jesus.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She joined the worship team at church.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She participates in Destination Imagination, going to Globals this year for the third time.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She became mascot for her upcoming senior year... something she's always wanted to do. </b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She leads a life group at church.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has learned to rollerblade, shoot a gun, ride a horse and drive a car.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She learned to fish (and liked it).</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She somehow always becomes her teachers' favorite even though she's not a very good student.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has a crush on a different boy every week, but she is steadfast in her loyalty to friends.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She loves animals, Taylor Swift, hanging out at Sonic, and selfies.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She earned a trophy for tractor pull at the local fair.</b></span></span></li><li><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>She has played the leg lamp in A Christmas Story, had her neck broken in Of Mice and Men, rocked blue hair as Flounder in the Little Mermaid and won best supporting actress for Summer in School of Rock. She has been in Grease, Seussical, Puffs, Edward Tulane, A Monster Calls, A Storm in the Barn, Beauty and the Beast and Camp Rock. (I've probably forgotten a few)</b></span></span></li></ul><div><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxB9z5Rf7nq5rCJoC8YWAbABYQv51y1O9mfePNAQaBgt0ylO1eiHXAJmiVY8vwCMayeoXQ6K4Ma-WvlQBKPEw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">To say there is never a dull moment when she's around is an understatement.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b>Kelsie is one of those rare, bright, sparkly unicorns that makes the world a better place because she's in it. She is sunshine and glitter and the definition of a hot mess. She is 100% a </b></span></span><b style="color: #674ea7; font-family: "Indie Flower"; font-size: large;">daddy's girl.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="color: #674ea7; font-family: "Indie Flower"; font-size: large;">She's also my little broke BFF, my ride or die, my concert buddy, and the most incredible daughter I never knew I wanted.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: large;">Today, on National Creativity Day, we celebrate our brave, kind, talented, creative, and gorgeous inside AND out social butterfly better known as Kelbert.</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOh9fM6dXOy0CeEk-7IQTDmkNVAJyGFjAO2gMwQlYoPD5mKA6XR85la3WT9jr4xjC_o-fnDGPZgIb0sYdwXDshHcObN-VX7grL_Kw1cXvwjZ5K53gNIcC_Bz3GjBMm_uZvSpD-qw_lgbic6ZnKm9WREWR1-96g8xoAUI1KwaDeVmcGnOjPC34acYFETw/s1280/IMG_9214.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOh9fM6dXOy0CeEk-7IQTDmkNVAJyGFjAO2gMwQlYoPD5mKA6XR85la3WT9jr4xjC_o-fnDGPZgIb0sYdwXDshHcObN-VX7grL_Kw1cXvwjZ5K53gNIcC_Bz3GjBMm_uZvSpD-qw_lgbic6ZnKm9WREWR1-96g8xoAUI1KwaDeVmcGnOjPC34acYFETw/s320/IMG_9214.jpg" width="240" /></a><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvY2rAvxFHRr6nJXeF626UwMY2wJ-JRbqj4ePq0gFN9yvjUS0B0LF1TP3JEEKotT8AkZEmbjfg34xGT4SlNKLcZbPxWXcW6peA_zhveoYYAHPje80KStfqCC7P0nx3571EgOXK5MkrpSV57x1SKQTOOx2TJgpptcasivxrihS6N7cadPDWEsaPHeVKQ/s882/20221006_090919.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="529" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQvY2rAvxFHRr6nJXeF626UwMY2wJ-JRbqj4ePq0gFN9yvjUS0B0LF1TP3JEEKotT8AkZEmbjfg34xGT4SlNKLcZbPxWXcW6peA_zhveoYYAHPje80KStfqCC7P0nx3571EgOXK5MkrpSV57x1SKQTOOx2TJgpptcasivxrihS6N7cadPDWEsaPHeVKQ/s320/20221006_090919.jpg" width="192" /></a></b></div></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /><br /></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEVvGgz2QGCsxBQ6bWushSYIMvMTmxs8oE77LtL4Y2ANYJ4wkNwcSWMwcVm71x5gcnSJrw7Eakw8ObynwXq8lKg7oyWyt5g1AE5r9Dcb1GuLIumYnKa_CxH95-S_VD5xS9IrUhfgHF2S0sQz7ClYyNTRQuAQJaTRvTNMnMCzPsmvPXgPTmvl5TdSa7g/s4000/20221007_093803.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEVvGgz2QGCsxBQ6bWushSYIMvMTmxs8oE77LtL4Y2ANYJ4wkNwcSWMwcVm71x5gcnSJrw7Eakw8ObynwXq8lKg7oyWyt5g1AE5r9Dcb1GuLIumYnKa_CxH95-S_VD5xS9IrUhfgHF2S0sQz7ClYyNTRQuAQJaTRvTNMnMCzPsmvPXgPTmvl5TdSa7g/s320/20221007_093803.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmBsF9vYmgpjsKzMHAAYXD0gk7bYNHhLjrzTulgvXUHZNYq6lrfx0LeJdcgxGxSIqfkNXw5HuLC1WZhYB98rj3qqNCtKShGHeMkJQe0bHta4JWwTt8_cOM2RHQnZfI0J11kaj-MsHiarFCBN8huEMx17igG_LaMlVakcWbyJn-PYFRt_fZ_m2r_4QBw/s3493/20221028_093201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3493" data-original-width="2255" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmBsF9vYmgpjsKzMHAAYXD0gk7bYNHhLjrzTulgvXUHZNYq6lrfx0LeJdcgxGxSIqfkNXw5HuLC1WZhYB98rj3qqNCtKShGHeMkJQe0bHta4JWwTt8_cOM2RHQnZfI0J11kaj-MsHiarFCBN8huEMx17igG_LaMlVakcWbyJn-PYFRt_fZ_m2r_4QBw/s320/20221028_093201.jpg" width="207" /></a></b></span></div></div><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5HvJmmhT2dmyeN479tV0HdbLo5-ftl30JIDj99XmLMQ0QOX6EEdDM9QiaLJUzZzqOhp3Nsk7Tfi0SccKuhQ930C8pxZKTj-14BedDEMZJ8qNhIgENtASjeyUz0Ms7hw6OeaU8FPb7mZ-QwIPoNLyPUfNNxPYAjK8Pd6OfMWaKvlBuESKd5WIqu6Wkw/s3727/20221215_200849.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3727" data-original-width="2485" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5HvJmmhT2dmyeN479tV0HdbLo5-ftl30JIDj99XmLMQ0QOX6EEdDM9QiaLJUzZzqOhp3Nsk7Tfi0SccKuhQ930C8pxZKTj-14BedDEMZJ8qNhIgENtASjeyUz0Ms7hw6OeaU8FPb7mZ-QwIPoNLyPUfNNxPYAjK8Pd6OfMWaKvlBuESKd5WIqu6Wkw/s320/20221215_200849.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGy83fCSFbg31pvz0FeIOMIxZZW7dVDWZc0qRpgZ0wHkl-bzzAJZIwLRV0tBeAA7mZb1N8fNdDpdU8x3gtflQzATDqVYM121HwVxGZ33d3La-loWCMnxsjzPyFdNIL3Nmjdnx51oYiaoq9yshIRkrH9814slpDamZkVY2x6nYewm3aOcKMaK8h6qRFA/s4000/20230303_192315.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcGy83fCSFbg31pvz0FeIOMIxZZW7dVDWZc0qRpgZ0wHkl-bzzAJZIwLRV0tBeAA7mZb1N8fNdDpdU8x3gtflQzATDqVYM121HwVxGZ33d3La-loWCMnxsjzPyFdNIL3Nmjdnx51oYiaoq9yshIRkrH9814slpDamZkVY2x6nYewm3aOcKMaK8h6qRFA/s320/20230303_192315.jpg" width="240" /></a></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgA0SBb7NPr6fBzpbtWZTiDnX3Pvg6kKoof7OzXMKKuyy9sSDS6gfG4pjJiJTMQ5w6YMgX1haYVkL9kI8CkRa8YXMPgXNhqkqEUhtwmK_mfMW9-z_BEqEhDU-acNQO2qwWn06rlA9qM-I3U4NvTFDomyRnYrrKi0QqhGUEbbL-hLMtAkTJ5gBd76_9ZA/s1079/Screenshot_20220529-135421_OneDrive.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1079" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgA0SBb7NPr6fBzpbtWZTiDnX3Pvg6kKoof7OzXMKKuyy9sSDS6gfG4pjJiJTMQ5w6YMgX1haYVkL9kI8CkRa8YXMPgXNhqkqEUhtwmK_mfMW9-z_BEqEhDU-acNQO2qwWn06rlA9qM-I3U4NvTFDomyRnYrrKi0QqhGUEbbL-hLMtAkTJ5gBd76_9ZA/s320/Screenshot_20220529-135421_OneDrive.jpg" width="320" /></b></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o_k2GN0p_VCVdWSHLDqqUGNKrq513xG0uGmH8MhDFqjFZ6L0iFbmbtE4oZXgW2HOH36x2GBM4J9sdLXjbYkDkpJDEHZxStUwJ_28f1Q2B5u-6tOULb0ct1i6Us3hxZUN5q7h1perPkBNU7UjboRXqHjXIVJdK7-jB1AGI3OWc_gOy37s_jrhAxTNjQ/s3160/20230505_164545.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3160" data-original-width="1907" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o_k2GN0p_VCVdWSHLDqqUGNKrq513xG0uGmH8MhDFqjFZ6L0iFbmbtE4oZXgW2HOH36x2GBM4J9sdLXjbYkDkpJDEHZxStUwJ_28f1Q2B5u-6tOULb0ct1i6Us3hxZUN5q7h1perPkBNU7UjboRXqHjXIVJdK7-jB1AGI3OWc_gOy37s_jrhAxTNjQ/s320/20230505_164545.jpg" width="193" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vl9r8m4fLAHODS4r7qRUC7St1YRTkk42_9TyRs2VKcJ_F6zB8JrmGZ3pJqtu0pfFL9EP0aQyvDxfob4h9Yi2dkDVg42TWVwtNLvGOGQqwCP67M9f7li87JMeQpZIZGEMgpt6c5h9p4TJELRIWEkb5N1PUPQiBhK_ZCsgiZufeVOBlVlpDv0Znudb6Q/s3640/20230506_161110.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; 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font-size: medium;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="1014" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuKQa8Bucu6vPutDoVQRIadoiyWczdg6iB_OMzIS1EmeGu7IQXbAqgUKgw7WD1myNnQ40Fi1HytrAQVemXoiRoRSnUMbAq2w1n5LEiFc5QQIB38FHRYHiHAV5NWPx82fjMoyIMiioLrSUPaqtG5FC8enWCOwApWM5CknKTecEOYJ11wxgJNNEa63v8A/s320/20230120_204257.jpg" width="240" /></b></span></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">Happy 17th birthday baby girl. You're the BEST.KELSIE.EVER. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Indie Flower; font-size: medium;">(I don't care what Shoemake says)</span></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-5507265333635147822023-02-02T22:06:00.003-06:002023-02-02T22:11:37.742-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2415<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQ5cia58rJKNTJ4P82Oy_MjfHSi2IEPBydOE1300NzkV6-3s-7pJ1yTaojB1xgUIVO2221bfq6Mm5cLqpNRukXNjLz1HmGacz5W3pyTqApgTYZiVV9wrGpj5hsRfjHTsA1zBtbB8luV7Q7WStEIHw8R8IuVYBrQ0UwZmCT2Nu9PrL3fNXZRoc-A_svQ/s1280/Snapchat-694271286.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLQ5cia58rJKNTJ4P82Oy_MjfHSi2IEPBydOE1300NzkV6-3s-7pJ1yTaojB1xgUIVO2221bfq6Mm5cLqpNRukXNjLz1HmGacz5W3pyTqApgTYZiVV9wrGpj5hsRfjHTsA1zBtbB8luV7Q7WStEIHw8R8IuVYBrQ0UwZmCT2Nu9PrL3fNXZRoc-A_svQ/s320/Snapchat-694271286.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>Wow. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">So...um...ok. Today I turned 50. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Fifty!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Fifty?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Five-zero. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">Am I old? I don't feel old. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I mean...I DO feel old sometimes. Age plus cancer will do that to you.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">But I don't FEEL old. I'm tired... but it's a tired from having a full life. Although I don't think I necessarily agree with the whole "Fifty and Fabulous" thing... I don't think I'm old. Sometimes I don't even feel like a grown up. ๐คฃ</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">This is my tenth "bonus birthday" (my friend Kathryn's words). Turning 40 didn't bother me. In my opinion, at 40 I <i>was</i> fabulous. Turning 40 ยฝ was what bothered me. I was in the best shape of my life when I was knocked down by cancer. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A decade later... I am so very grateful to be alive and well. I may not be "fabulous" but I'm healthy. I'm happy. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm HERE. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to take care of my needy, high maintenance, diabetic, allergic to everything, bark at everything clinger of a dog.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to work... hopefully making a positive impact with both my day job working for the family biz and my side gig working with some truly incredible, talented women.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to watch my children grow into amazingly funny, kind, quirky, caring human beings. (And even though I'm fifty, I don't see how it's possible that my son is 21!)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to plan new adventures with old friends (looking at you Shelley and Tirzah).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> for the theater performances, the band concerts, the DI competitions and all of the school "lasts" that are coming up (and I have the best friends right alongside me). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to have birthday pizza and ice cream cake with my family (in true Trudy fashion).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I'm <i>here</i> to have weekend away dates with my hubby (can't wait!).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I used to tease Boyd a lot about having a young wife. He's almost 11 years older than me, so it was fun to remind him that at 60, he had a wife in her forties. I can't do that anymore. I'm still almost 11 years younger, but it doesn't sound as fun to say he has a young wife who happens to be 50. ha. I'll get over it.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand; font-size: medium;">I haven't written a blog post in a long time (two jobs, two kids, a husband and a needy dog keep me BUSY!), but I just wanted to reflect a little bit on my birthday, and express my gratitude, because my cup truly overfloweth. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to my husband for starting the day off with birthday wishes to his "best friend", for driving me to work in case it was icy, for humoring me with the pizza and ice cream cake thing (versus the taking-me-out-to-dinner and baking-a-cake thing), and for our getaway this weekend. Life with you has been an amazing ride and I can't wait to see where we go next!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to Jared for always being my best bud. There is no better person in this world than you. And I love my pink keyboard!!!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to Kelsie for always keeping it real. Whether you're making silly tiktoks or I'm trying to decifer your latest typo-filled text written in "Kelsie-speak", you fill every day with laughter. You are a free spirit who makes everyone's world a little brighter.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to my mom, who is always going the extra mile to make things special. I love my flowers!!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to Justin for the text and the laugh. You definitely inherited your dad's sense of humor. I'm proud of the hard working family man you have become!</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to Brooke. Thank you for the birthday wishes, thank you for always helping with Dexter, and thank you for being the most perfect girl for Jared.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to Kim & Natalie. You both know why.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to all of Kelsie's friends who texted me, hijacked her phone to text me during class, or sent me messages to wish me happy birthday. I love that you guys think I'm "that" mom (or you at least love Kelsie enough to pretend to like me).</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Thank you to all of my friends both near and far. My birthday wishes came from all across the US... from New York to Oregon, North Carolina to California, and even other countries like Canada & France! </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To all of the amazing people in my life who reached out today to wish me a happy birthday (and there were a lot!!) - I felt the love from everywhere. I'm so blessed. ๐</span></span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-53301187495124668092022-12-27T20:55:00.000-06:002023-06-17T23:28:00.959-05:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2375<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49u3V315NM3UKyUSZVZF0x48_beQd3nvdjiyrB7Ja43h6vAcAso6HGVSEH31aBLywgnb_2Dok_nsPOKxBWbUpxWzlZuVHa0aSEhGruF6hApGgEdBCzryMY4gKrnpOuv6Eny6_ezuT1KSNw7jZR-woaiQWerWe5sqK7MVi-2ucmhJOc53cy3_RyRZEdg/s1032/FB_IMG_1672262419898.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="1032" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49u3V315NM3UKyUSZVZF0x48_beQd3nvdjiyrB7Ja43h6vAcAso6HGVSEH31aBLywgnb_2Dok_nsPOKxBWbUpxWzlZuVHa0aSEhGruF6hApGgEdBCzryMY4gKrnpOuv6Eny6_ezuT1KSNw7jZR-woaiQWerWe5sqK7MVi-2ucmhJOc53cy3_RyRZEdg/s320/FB_IMG_1672262419898.jpg" width="320"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Over the last 15+ years I have used this blog as a journal for my thoughts and feelings. For the majority of the last decade, those feelings mostly revolved around my cancer diagnosis and treatment. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">This post will not be about that. I'm using this as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings regarding what has happened at the family business over the last six-plus months and how I have been treated by my so-called "family". There has been a division in our family, and one side has 100% controlled the narrative up to this point. I don't know yet if I'll even post this, and if I do, I don't know who I will share it with. However, some things have happened over the last few days to steal some of my Christmas joy this year and I can't keep quiet anymore. I won't. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Have you ever been accused of something you did not do? Or several somethings? Have you been painted the villain so someone else can wallow in being the victim? Have you been talked about, had lies spread about you, and been disrespected? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I hope not. Because I have, and it SUCKS. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">In case I do post this, in order for you to understand how everything fits, Boyd & Marty are the owners of the business, and Susie & myself have shared office/secretary/bookkeeping duties for the last four years. She is Marty's wife. I am Boyd's wife. So.... family.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c1j7vj7LiiM7JsIri310BMdPM-btjuySN1ccr375hJpU7jc6UDAgaY9eIsjch0Si0BKx8Q84lI80vcKYnPF3n24_CZyCpP6u-3tcEMGyQR28LRRhu5Wst6x_nUOxObz0q8wnLDrON0ad1n3Betl4tM4PAdkkQG3ssx5sCW7qubezpYVlWdHlo8PXuw/s864/FB_IMG_1672263283250.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="864" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5c1j7vj7LiiM7JsIri310BMdPM-btjuySN1ccr375hJpU7jc6UDAgaY9eIsjch0Si0BKx8Q84lI80vcKYnPF3n24_CZyCpP6u-3tcEMGyQR28LRRhu5Wst6x_nUOxObz0q8wnLDrON0ad1n3Betl4tM4PAdkkQG3ssx5sCW7qubezpYVlWdHlo8PXuw/s320/FB_IMG_1672263283250.jpg" width="320"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div>Total transparency, I'm going to be saying more than I should about work and family and the people involved will not like me sharing all of this, but I need to GET.IT.OUT. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>Earlier this year, things at work were difficult. Financially. Like most small businesses, we were hurting thanks to slow business because of COVID, increasing costs of everything, and </span><span>a big project that went way past schedule and just drained the company financially. I</span><span>t was almost to the point of no return. We were *this* close to shutting the doors and losing everything. There were some weeks we barely had enough money for payroll. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">At the end of May, the financial advisor for both Royal and our family approached me with an idea. I went into his office to make a payment (unrelated to work), and HE invited ME to stay and discuss something. He has a lot of history with the family and the business, and he was very, very concerned. He had met with Boyd and Marty and they were trying to come up with a plan to save the company. In the meantime, he made a suggestion (to me) that someone (and he recommended me) take over all of the accounting... becoming a chief financial officer of sorts. He said someone needs to have their finger on the financial pulse of the company if we had any hope of pulling through. He is our personal financial advisor, and he knows how Boyd and I handle our money. He also knows that Marty and Susie have not always been as careful, and have no real plan for retirement. This man knows how to be successful financially, and he was concerned and helping us with NO benefit for himself.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I never mentioned that meeting to Boyd, or that this suggestion was made to me. I figured it would have to come from the financial advisor. He did discuss it with them at their next meeting, and Boyd told me about it. I immediately started making a "business plan"... breaking down what my job duties were vs what Susie did, what we shared, what could be changed/improved, etc. I was fired up to make changes that could hopefully help turn things around.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">At the same time, Susie made a list of our job duties according to her. Her list included some things we both did, certain aspects of the job that she has taken on since the previous office manager (John) left, and other things like water the plant, stocking the fridge with drinks and snacks, replace air fresheners and spraying for bugs. She did not include many of the major tasks that only I do (like maintain all of the job costs and handle all of the union reports & benefits). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Boyd and I compared her list and mine and made a spreadsheet with different versions of how we could separate everything, where one person is doing the majority of the accounting duties and the other would be more of a secretary/office manager. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>The idea was to eliminate double work and prevent things from falling through the cracks. I </span><span>am very schedule and computer oriented, very comfortable with spreadsheets and letting the accounting system do what it's supposed to. On the other hand, Susie is very list-driven and preferred paper files and manually adding things up. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">It was very frustrating to me to have to make lists of things that the accounting system could spit out in seconds. I did not want to write something down on a clipboard that is already being entered into the accounting program. I wanted to start paying most things online... eliminate late fees and save money by not having to buy as many checks, envelopes and stamps. Marty and Susie did not want to do email statements or online payments. They wanted the paper bill in the mail and a physical check written. The problem with this is that most vendors have moved to online statements, so even though we would receive an invoice in the mail, we would also receive the same one in email. There were multiple instances that something was paid twice because of this. We were also being charged late fees because checks were being mailed on their due date, not mailed in time to be received BY the due date.</span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I felt like the two of us had very different ways of doing the same job, and I was getting tired of doing double work. Things were being missed, or duplicated. When something would come along that was done incorrectly, I would leave detailed instructions on how to do it the next time. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">An example of this is making partial payments on credit cards. Instead of entering the full amount due from the credit card statement into the accounting system and then applying the partial payment, Susie would not enter the invoice at all, and just write a check for whatever amount she was paying. This does not allow for the remaining unpaid balance to stay in the system as an outstanding bill, and it doesn't charge the amounts to the correct accounts (like gas, postage, material, etc). From an accounting standpoint, everything has to be entered and charged appropriately. Susie made this error on two different occasions earlier this year. I left detailed instructions on how to do it correctly next time, and she ignored those and did the same thing a few months later. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Another example is promissory notes. Instead of entering borrowed money received as a loan, Susie was using the "receive money from customer" option, which charges the amount to sales. If we borrow $15,000 from someone, that is NOT sales.</span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Another example is spreadsheets. Instead of making new tabs in the same file for each new month or job or whatever, Susie would just overwrite whatever was on the current sheet, so there was no electronic record of anything prior to the current one. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">If we receive an invoice but Marty or Boyd tell us to hold payment on it, the invoice should be entered into the accounting system with the "hold for payment" box checked. That way the invoice still shows as a current accounts payable due, but it won't allow us to pay it until that box is unchecked. There are physical folders to keep held invoices after they are processed and entered in the system. When Susie would receive an invoice to be held, she would not enter it into the system or make a copy for the job folder... she would just stick it in the held folder and manually write it on a list. Unless you knew it was there or looked at her list attached to the folder, nobody would know that this invoice even exists or that it still needed to be paid.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">When an invoice is supposed to be charged to a certain job, a copy of that invoice needs to go into the job folder so I can add it to the job cost. There were numerous times I discovered that did not happen, so the job cost spreadsheet did not accurately reflect what the job was actually costing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Instead of taking my instructions as knowledge from someone who was college-educated in accounting, Susie took it as me telling her we needed to do things my way. MY way. I never imagined trying to bring business operations into the current century and following the correct accounting principles could be misconstrued so badly. We were running a business. It wasn't play time. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">There is a big chasm between Marty & Susie's preferred way of doing things "the way we've always done" and a more streamlined, automated method of keeping track of all of the accounting. Every change I tried to implement was met with resistance from both of them.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Again, I was not trying to "take over" and make everything "my way". I was trying to update/automate/streamline as much as I could and bring the business administration and bookkeeping up to date, instead of relying on manual lists and hard copies that could get lost.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>Boyd and Marty discussed our spreadsheet with the division of duties. </span><span><span>Marty </span><span>did not agree with the financial advisor and did not want me (or anyone, but especially me) overseeing all of the accounting. Boyd even told him it doesn't have to be me. We </span><span>were only suggesting me because I was willing to take it all on, working every day and longer hours if needed (for the same pay!), and we weren't sure if Susie was interested in the same. Marty then went home(!) to discuss with Susie - WHEN IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN DISCUSSED AT WORK WITH ALL OF US - and she adamantly refused to consider any part of our idea.</span></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Susie was insulted and felt attacked by us. She wanted to quit. She kept saying that she loved this job and always thought it would be the one she retired from. She did not come to Boyd's surprise 60th birthday party and we did not speak for weeks. Every time any of this was brought up for discussion, it was always between Boyd and Marty, and then Marty would go <b>home</b> to talk to Susie. Despite it being 100% about work, he constantly made it personal by catering to her feelings and talking to her at home, away from me and Boyd. Not once did Marty or Susie express interest in hearing from/talking to me. My explanations, my reasoning for things, my advice, my opinions... did not matter to them at all. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I sent Susie an email (because she would not talk to me) and I apologized to her for the way we made her feel and told her our intentions were only to try to improve things for the business, NOT to hurt her. To me, this was NEVER personal and never about "taking over" or "pushing her out". Boyd and I both apologized to her because our intentions were never to hurt her feelings. It was BUSINESS and feelings should never have even come into play. But I also told her that I would not apologize for trying to save my family's future. Susie did not respond to me, other than putting passive-aggressive posts on Facebook about toxic people that I knew were directed at me and Boyd. She admitted to Marty that she'd been posting them because she wanted to "tell her side". I finally got tired of seeing them so I unfriended her. She knew what she was doing by posting those, and she knew the minute I unfriended her. You don't get a notification when someone unfriends you, so she had to have been checking my Facebook page often to see if we were still "friends". Once I unfriended her, she turned right around and unfriended Boyd.</span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">For years, Susie and I each worked five days on, five days off, and would leave a note for the other person when they were coming back to work. To me, this was part of the problem with sharing the job, because unless it was in those notes, one of us didn't really know what the other was doing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">One of the biggest issues I have, other than them (especially her) disrespecting me, is that from the day all of this started, I made it clear (to Boyd, who made it clear to them) that I was willing to work every day, longer hours, whatever it took, to try to make things better and more organized for the shop. Not once did Susie say the same. She was happy to work her few days a week, most of the time bringing her infant granddaughter to work with her. Her desire to work at this job until she could retire, in my opinion, is because it was laid back, she could do what she wanted and she was hoping to "float her way through" the next few years. THAT is why she didn't want anything to change. The problem is that this is not some mom & pop shop that we are running, and flubbing her way through something that needed to be treated like a BUSINESS with rules and regulations was not working. She has no real understanding of computers, spreadsheets or accounting principles, and any effort by me to explain was met with rudeness and her hurt feelings because I was trying to "take over". You can't run a $2 million dollar business in 2022 by doing things the way they were done in 1970. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Mid-July, Marty asked to talk to Boyd about work. He mostly wanted to talk about the family/work dynamic and how bad things were between all of us. He said that Susie complained about how our notes to each other when we traded off used to be friendly, and now mine are 3-4 pages long. She's right. I told Boyd that's because I was <b>done</b> fixing her mess ups and not saying anything. I had been "covering" for her for years, and the errors kept piling up, making more work for me to fix everything. One week I spent 20 HOURS fixing the credit card payments. If there was something done incorrectly (not just not "my" way, but WRONG), I was going to fix it and let her know the right way to do it, so maybe it would be done correctly the next time. I also told him that Susie was the one who started leaving the notes "unfriendly", as her last one ended with a "That's it". She 100% took everything I left for her as "this is how I want to do it" instead of what it was - how things should be done from an accounting standpoint.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">She told Marty mid-July that she was going to go up there that weekend and get all of her stuff because she was quitting. Marty talked her out of it. They did reluctantly agree to let me do the accounting, so I'd be doing payroll each week and paying the bills each month. This meant a change in schedule, which SHE dictated. She sent home a color coded calendar(!) with which days she would work and which days I would work <u>for the rest of the year</u>, instead of all of us coming up with a plan for this together. I let that go and just went to work on the days she had scheduled me. (Talk about "taking over"!!) One of the days I got there after her few days of work, there was a note left for me. She told me that she had been diagnosed with stage 4 kidney disease and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to work, so for now she wanted to keep working to keep her mind off of it.</span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>First of all, this was yet another "victim" play. She agreed to let me do the accounting, but then had to turn it right back around so the focus was on her. I'm not denying that she has this condition, I know kidney disease runs in her family, and I'm very sorry that she has this condition (<b>and I told her that</b>). It's quite the coincidence that it was never brought up before that, though. Kidney disease doesn't happen overnight. Also, if she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to work, why in the world would she be so against having a lighter work load? When John was still there, Susie and I would often talk about how neither one of us wanted to work full time, and she never once changed that position. She never once offered to work more, or longer hours, to take on more of the job duties, and instead tells me she won't be able to work much longer. </span><span>I have been dealing with health issues ever since my cancer diagnosis, so I am the last person to make light of someone for something like kidney disease. However, it makes no sense why she would be SO ADAMANT against changing things up and lightening up her load, and then turn around and say she might not be able to work much longer. </span><span>Why would she create such a huge issue </span><span>about all of this</span><span>, act like she was the only one suffering in this whole situation, if her health was going to prevent her from working eventually anyway? </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>All of this has taken a huge toll on everyone, not just Susie. The stress that all four of us were under was unreal. In fact, it was this stress that caused Boyd to have such a severe case of shingles over the summer, he had to walk with a cane. She was NOT the only injured party.</span><span> She recently told Boyd that she wished Marty would retire, because he "worries about every little thing now." Boyd couldn't believe her... he told her "I DO TOO!" Do they honestly believe they are the only ones affected by any of this? How self-absorbed can you be? </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">In August, Marty and Susie had COVID. She had only worked a couple of days before they had to quarantine, and towards the end of the month they were going on a cruise. Because of that, and not knowing if she would even be able to come back to work before their vacation, I took care of the tasks for that month that she would normally do. One of those is reconciling the accounting for the month, which she later accused me of "taking away from her". Another is the sales tax. This is something I learned to do when I started there, but I had not done it in years. Susie had been the one to process and file the sales tax return every month since the John retired. It has to be filed/paid by the 20th of each month, and considering Susie had COVID and I didn't know when she'd be back, Boyd told me to go ahead and do it for that month. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">In the process of working on this, it seemed to me like the sales tax spreadsheet was wrong. Like REALLY wrong. Instead of calculating 8.25% of the total sales amount, the spreadsheet was calculating 8.25% of 8.25%! One month we collected $1600 in sales tax and her payment to the state of Texas was $0.89. How could she not notice that??? Whatever Royal Electric collects for sales tax is the amount that should be paid that month. Simple. If you collect $500, then your sales tax return would include a $500 payment. I sent the spreadsheet to our accountant to make sure I was looking at it correctly. I knew approaching either Marty or Susie about this after all of this turmoil and saying Susie had been doing it wrong would NOT go over well at all, so I wanted to be sure. The accountant agreed with me, and said "that spreadsheet is way wrong." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Somehow over the last few years, Susie had changed/messed up the spreadsheet so badly (because she doesn't really know how to use spreadsheets) that it wasn't calculating anything correctly. I couldn't even look on the file to see when things were changed, because instead of saving each month as a new sheet, she would just delete the numbers and put the new month in. The ONLY record I had to go by was the hard copy of each month's return. I had previously shown her how to create a new "page" in an excel spreadsheet, so for all of the files we work with (job cost, certified payroll, sales tax, etc), each month could have a new page while still saving the old sheet. Susie never did learn this and would always just erase the previous month and enter the new information, essentially deleting anything before that. This is a nightmare for recordkeeping, and is easily avoided by a simple click of the mouse to add another sheet. Again, instead of learning something new and relatively easy, Susie bristled at me trying to make her do things "my way". </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>I asked the accountant how to proceed with the sales tax, and she said that I needed to go back and check the previous four years worth of tax returns, because if we were to be audited, that's how far back the state would go. This took me over a week. </span><span>In the process of re-checking the past four years of sales tax returns, I discovered that many of the months were reported incorrectly, and we had underpaid almost $8,000. I had to recalculate each of the previous months (4 years!!), re-file all of them with the state and pay each month's return. Each month that we owed money also had interest and fees tacked on. In all, her errors resulted in Royal having to pay all of that unpaid sales tax at one time, plus over $1200 in fees and interest. That's not good at any time, but when things are already tight financially, it was AWFUL. And guess what? When Boyd told Marty about the sales tax issue, Marty went <b>HOME</b> to talk to Susie about it, <u>even though she was scheduled to come in to work an hour later</u>. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!? Marty should have had her sit down with him AND BOYD AT THE OFFICE, but he had to once again cater to her personal feelings and bring work issues home. All of this took place on a day I wasn't there, so it was easy to blame me for whatever way I harmed her this time. It was her huge mistake that I discovered, so of course they were not going to let me be involved in any of the conversation. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">At no point did Susie admit to messing up. She never once took responsibility or showed any remorse for screwing up so badly. She never apologized for making an error that cost thousands of dollars. Instead, she spent the two days she was at work between COVID and vacation double-checking MY amended returns and arguing with some of the numbers. She said the sales tax was her job and there was no reason for me to do it (even though she was out for almost the whole month?!?!?) and she didn't believe that Boyd told me to do it that month. She was upset because I "took over" the reconciling and I "took over" the sales tax... when all I did was complete those tasks the one month that she was out of work for the majority of. Marty never once acknowledged that her lack of computer skills and basic accounting concepts ended up costing the shop a lot of money. I would have been SO UPSET if I had made such a monumental mistake, month after month, year after year, and someone else discovered it. Not her. She was just mad that I took over "her" job that month. If I hadn't, who knows how much more money we would owe in back taxes to this day. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">On August 17, Susie pushed me past my limit. She sent a scathing email to me, Boyd and Marty, with the subject "quitting work effective Jan 25, 2023". In the email, she was rude and disrespectful towards me, harping on how awful she's been treated, and how I am to blame for everything that has happened. Not at any point in her email did she even use my name... it was all "her" and "she". She said "She is smarter and more savvy to computers than me and she is making damn sure I know it. She has caused this family to divide and two brothers to clash. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see whats happening here." </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">The bottom line is that Susie had a cake job, and wanted to coast her way through it until she could retire, and didn't even care if she was doing it correctly. Just because something has been done the same way for forty years doesn't mean it's the right way to do it now. She and Marty recently told Boyd that they don't understand why anything had to change. You know why? Because the business was on its last legs and things weren't working!! <b>Because I've been covering her ass for years</b>... spending hours and days fixing things and correcting her mistakes, over and over, and I was tired of it. I never once got a thank you or "wow, I can't believe I did that". All I got was blame for "taking over". </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Susie has been hateful toward me and never once owned any part of this drama. SHE is the injured party. SHE is the one who is hurt. SHE is the one who was pushed out of a job. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I told Boyd that day that I refused to share that job with her one more day, let alone until January. She picked that date because that's when she turns 62 and could "retire". I told him that I would work all day every day and do the entire job for the same pay, but not if she was still there. Her email was HORRIBLE. Again, Marty went <i><b>home</b></i> to talk to her. When he came back, Boyd told me it was decided that she would retire, but the shop would continue to pay her until she turns 62 in January. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Over the last four months, I have put my head down and done my job. I have worked every day, and longer hours, doing everything I was doing plus her part of the job. I have been cordial to Marty, never speaking to him about any of this, or bringing her up. I have tried to maintain a friendly work environment, despite everything. I am the secretary, receptionist, accountant, payroll and human resources manager and IT person. I have not contacted her and vice versa. I *thought* we were all moving forward.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">WRONG. Apparently she and Marty are still leaders of the I hate Michelle club. To this day, she still bad mouths me to everyone. She is 100% the victim and the whole situation is my fault.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">She has accused me of password-protecting everything so she couldn't access anything. That is NOT true. The ONLY file I added a password to was the new sales tax spreadsheet that I had to make, because she had screwed up the original spreadsheet so royally. I worked for an entire week on fixing the spreadsheet and recalculating four years worth of returns... I did not want her to have the chance to mess the new up before I came back to work. There is NOTHING else to do with our job that I password protected or excluded her from.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Susie has accused me of pushing her out of the job because I wanted her gone. I never ONCE suggested that. None of this was my idea. Taking over the accounting to hopefully get a handle on the finances was a suggestion that came from a very successful financial advisor - NOT MY IDEA. Was I on board with it? Very much so. I am a quick learner, good with computers and I have a degree in business administration & accounting. Why wouldn't I be willing to take on whatever I needed to for a company that is my and my husband's sole livelihood? We have a lot of money invested in it (much more than they do), and we still have kids at home. We can not afford to lose the business. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I have also learned that Susie was monitoring my google search history. Who does that?? She told Boyd and Marty "Did you know Michelle was looking for another job?" Of course I was. Why wouldn't I? The job situation I was in was miserable and I didn't want to deal with her one more day. Maybe if she paid more attention to the work she was supposed to be doing correctly instead of spying on me, she wouldn't have kept messing things up. She was also petty enough to compare how much the shop paid each month for my gas versus hers, ignoring the fact that she used her company card for dry cleaning each month, meals for her grandkids and even a chiropractor appointment.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">The hypocrisy is unbelievable. She thinks, and has everyone else convinced, that she comes up smelling like roses in all of this. But she is spiteful, hateful and vindictive. And dishonest. Many of the things she has told Marty are 100% not true, but he doesn't understand our job duties enough to believe otherwise. And he hasn't always been honest either. Several years ago they made some poor (personal) financial choices and didn't even tell Boyd, even though it very much affects a business in which they share 50/50 ownership. Since then, the company has had difficulty getting necessary bonds for jobs because of that (they give you reasons when you are denied, and that is always one of them). Why they didn't think this was something Boyd should be made aware of is beyond me.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Throughout all of this, Boyd and I have never once said anything to our kids. Justin, Jared & Kelsie were not involved in any part of this. We haven't talked bad about Marty or Susie to them, and never let on that anything was wrong at work. We've never even spoken to Martin about it, even though he also works for the company. Boyd and I were determined to keep this AT WORK. We knew I (and maybe he) would not be welcome at family functions that they were at, but we never once spoke to any family member about them or the situation, and we did not ever prevent Jared or Kelsie from spending time with them.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">The same can not be said about them. Turns out Susie has spread her hate and lies, talking about me to Martin, his wife Danielle, and even Justin. Justin is BOYD'S son, and has NO connection or investment in the business. She and Marty should NEVER have talked to him about any of this. She told Justin all about how this was my plan... to get rid of her, and how I password protected everything and took over every part of the job. She blames me for the entire situation and has let everyone know it. She is doing everything she can, still to this day, to make people think badly of me.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">When Boyd confronted him, Marty said he told Justin because Justin asked. When that happened, Marty should have said "You should ask your dad". Instead, they wanted to control the narrative, throwing me under the bus and letting Susie continue to play the victim... even with OUR son.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">We always buy Christmas gifts for Martin & Danielle's kids. I sent them a text on Friday asking if they could stop by (my exact words) sometime this weekend so we could give the kids their gifts. I told them I didn't mean to pull them in yet another direction, because I knew they'd be spending time with Marty & Susie, plus Danielle's family. They said they would come by on Sunday when Justin's family was here. According to Susie, I texted that I didn't want to ruffle anyone's feathers and she took my invitation as a "dig" at her. She accused me of trying to cut them out and take over with her grandkids. WHAT?!? Seriously?? Because we had Christmas gifts for our nephews and niece? After not hearing from her personally in over four months, I got a text late Friday night saying "Martin and Danielle will NOT be coming over Sunday." I later learned that Martin & Danielle were at their house that night, and so was Justin.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I can honestly say that I had ZERO thoughts in my head about Marty & Susie when I invited Martin's family over. We have gifts for their kids, it was Christmas weekend, they live around the corner (literally) and I invited them to stop over. That's it. Whatever is between me & Boyd and Marty & Susie has NOTHING to do with anyone else. The fact that Susie took it personally as another attack is more proof that she is way too insecure, way too immature and way too self-absorbed. She asked (probably told) Martin & Danielle not to go to our house or if respect for her. She will never ever give up being the victim, even when something has NOTHING to do with her. She even accused us of throwing away their Christmas gift to Kelsie because Kelsie hadn't acknowledged it. You know why? Because that's something vindictive SHE would do. Boyd told her no, we wouldn't do that, we just hadn't let Kelsie open any gifts until Christmas.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Boyd told Marty Saturday that they needed to talk, and he went over to their house. Boyd wanted to meet at the office, but Marty wanted Susie to be there so she could tell her side. That's convenient. When did I ever get to tell my side? EVERY SINGLE DISCUSSION has excluded me. Susie (and Marty), has not moved on from any of this. She was still spewing her lies about everything I supposedly did to her at work, all of the things I did to sabotage her and said that she feels that I owe her an apology. Guess what? I feel *I* am owed an apology!!!!!!! She told Boyd that she "saved all of the texts and emails". Good for her. So did I. I have nothing to hide. NOTHING.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigklM0DyRUH3S-huhQd-T6_PLbcWnRoSE-Xh8JeoJf-QOREZnl8vzxkGhLW-mEfPfA3z8edKmtgWD5LhSt0U8LFJwaWdGUdmoJyOmFok0KqvohTCf2euL0cuk-IYVPpAakMyls5XHrVaZdOkC4wlxyzAOwcpf-JOQFeMBqwGC_iPwDAaC8LW3w3KV4Og/s640/321484224_907853230652088_8251523553198592368_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigklM0DyRUH3S-huhQd-T6_PLbcWnRoSE-Xh8JeoJf-QOREZnl8vzxkGhLW-mEfPfA3z8edKmtgWD5LhSt0U8LFJwaWdGUdmoJyOmFok0KqvohTCf2euL0cuk-IYVPpAakMyls5XHrVaZdOkC4wlxyzAOwcpf-JOQFeMBqwGC_iPwDAaC8LW3w3KV4Og/s320/321484224_907853230652088_8251523553198592368_n.jpg" width="256"></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>I have given her an apology (more than once). She doesn't want to accept it. There is no fixing this. I don't want to, even if I could. I fully admit that. It's sad, but she no longer exists for me. I've felt like an outsider for 20 years... now I'm just invisible. I do not follow her on social media and I have blocked her number. If it means that I miss out on family because they choose to believe her lies about something that has nothing to do with anyone else, then so be it. If that's the case, then SHAME ON EVERYONE. </span><span> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span><br></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on Susie for not owning up to her mistakes. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on Susie for being a hateful bitch towards me.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br><font face="Cabin">Shame on Susie for blaming me for every part of this and taking zero responsibility. </font></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><font face="Cabin"><br></font></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on Susie for not being a team player and not being willing to try what is best for the business. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on Marty for putting his wife's hurt feelings above business, and not being willing to listen to the truth. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on both of them for not ever being open to a discussion to hear MY side... someone who has been in this family for 23 years and worked for the company for 10 years. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on them for being too close-minded to see that I could maybe be a valuable resource and actually help with things AT WORK. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on both of them for talking to Justin and Martin about the whole situation and bad-mouthing me. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on Martin and Danielle for letting her dictate who their kids can and cannot see. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">Shame on anyone who listens to her without listening to me, and choosing to believe her. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">There are two sides to every story, and so far she has been the only one telling hers. That stops right now. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIWFQGOATU3deZ9gX8aOlTEMjmUGrWqrrjN4Vgjoy37M3ofYd8J99KqxOSq8Ie-kGVr0odPL2F5nFgTaycYgaDs5O_5fUhZSQ2uflV3-emHyxJpiTCWCzHJlaYyvR0U1OpmbMbcBrNQmOJ7eIjNXKU1FU7d3XTc0amh9tI_fgRGW71InS9o3MqVpWeg/s1080/FB_IMG_1672263134934.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="1080" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPIWFQGOATU3deZ9gX8aOlTEMjmUGrWqrrjN4Vgjoy37M3ofYd8J99KqxOSq8Ie-kGVr0odPL2F5nFgTaycYgaDs5O_5fUhZSQ2uflV3-emHyxJpiTCWCzHJlaYyvR0U1OpmbMbcBrNQmOJ7eIjNXKU1FU7d3XTc0amh9tI_fgRGW71InS9o3MqVpWeg/w400-h94/FB_IMG_1672263134934.jpg" width="400"></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;">I never expected Susie and I to stay friends after all of this. I didn't expect the people in her circle (her sisters, nieces and nephews, aunts etc... all people I've been friends with) to see past her hate. There are a couple that have, which makes my heart happy. But I had hoped that Boyd and Marty could mend their relationship, and I thought the four of us would be able to keep work issues AT WORK so this didn't trickle down to our families. Instead, I am watching a woman more than a decade older than me act spiteful and vindictive toward me....poisoning the way others look at me, when I only wanted to help the business that supports all of our families - INCLUDING her son and his family.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cabin; font-size: medium;"><span>Shame on her.</span><span> </span></span></div><div><br></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-89611797657294201552022-11-28T00:00:00.001-06:002022-11-28T00:00:00.234-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2349<p><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"> Man, it has been a long time since I've posted on here, but if there's anything that can break me out of my slump it would be to celebrate my son's 21st birthday ๐ฒ</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif_tw2VUfhSlc9Yj0yO-q0L5VOOu_FfZq6UpPVp9biGC2HyWKFJU-q38lLYMPpCR6kS0w3tsxFdDUqPO79bg1bv8GhMA84hjt_l4Ljphw_Kp-Wc3plBDZIJcsyrguaKHj6K_SV8ZoJPXw1LFGgFco9gYqk0pDZJtjuOEFGMDzzsW6FNHYBHutn9pvaew" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><img alt="" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="400" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEif_tw2VUfhSlc9Yj0yO-q0L5VOOu_FfZq6UpPVp9biGC2HyWKFJU-q38lLYMPpCR6kS0w3tsxFdDUqPO79bg1bv8GhMA84hjt_l4Ljphw_Kp-Wc3plBDZIJcsyrguaKHj6K_SV8ZoJPXw1LFGgFco9gYqk0pDZJtjuOEFGMDzzsW6FNHYBHutn9pvaew" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><p><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></p>I don't know how it can even be possible that this tiny peanut born seven days late in a snowstorm...</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMoG1n6aM6Hev7GGjmujNXgYLc_veL0edZW5pChAJt4wdcELdeduPGrH81YAxbc-roBmZa-Ueuu2RmTAcJWulEcAdCMdPD7pkd7D_SAiDz9Yq7HlQmCeeSr4-t6NU_jB1tMQl3Ft1N0ufJ_hHUrG4yWIe3QbCu9shTNr2dqVh9VjLokOgBn0cfhnrrDw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="320" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMoG1n6aM6Hev7GGjmujNXgYLc_veL0edZW5pChAJt4wdcELdeduPGrH81YAxbc-roBmZa-Ueuu2RmTAcJWulEcAdCMdPD7pkd7D_SAiDz9Yq7HlQmCeeSr4-t6NU_jB1tMQl3Ft1N0ufJ_hHUrG4yWIe3QbCu9shTNr2dqVh9VjLokOgBn0cfhnrrDw" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjouvF9zaZYYX43G1i6D0Yj_vb4InEVIbKjLk3e9bB4lCWOyw3VChaTu7yv0e4j5plqXKmlHWWkVIwMeA5AW3KcHz7oKGxzh26be45gsxesnEEHfdDlpJImaZQCaAruJ3NOibgfp1JZqbUr07Sgnh12ZkF0ZwGQkzswXSOzfI05UNnmJUnoC1CSrZn8Yw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="518" data-original-width="759" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjouvF9zaZYYX43G1i6D0Yj_vb4InEVIbKjLk3e9bB4lCWOyw3VChaTu7yv0e4j5plqXKmlHWWkVIwMeA5AW3KcHz7oKGxzh26be45gsxesnEEHfdDlpJImaZQCaAruJ3NOibgfp1JZqbUr07Sgnh12ZkF0ZwGQkzswXSOzfI05UNnmJUnoC1CSrZn8Yw" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;">Has grown up into this caring, hardworking, funny, clever, handsome man!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8MchPlsJcnj209ayhO-FDpfAX6uY-QZWpbxDmnXW7-_mO46L60K623m-w56ZRzm-ZKbvJW1GnLV1hsd9EX-WPanichRGHOSH5WNXnpIxCSpGM7ELtp5WwW0E4v-TIVUV_GxsKInBJuhuFXgrLjcldvXYJ8WDpdQEbLA2XvPi9bvhDQVm4AZNur1Gjog" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj8MchPlsJcnj209ayhO-FDpfAX6uY-QZWpbxDmnXW7-_mO46L60K623m-w56ZRzm-ZKbvJW1GnLV1hsd9EX-WPanichRGHOSH5WNXnpIxCSpGM7ELtp5WwW0E4v-TIVUV_GxsKInBJuhuFXgrLjcldvXYJ8WDpdQEbLA2XvPi9bvhDQVm4AZNur1Gjog" width="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAt-8S2lWE9tLhhgTk6t_SDbGQt2NlR96vawIW_2og0Qc137u9A10NlMZKsacMVkq1wbXpQeAP_66gRvTgWdNXsLZz8hMFRtenUAqUFG-pZCO7g2JDacY3ZbMdQzF3Xd2Ilo6j7YpzHygbATFhaqWQY25V539R2pt0LfgK_vkmwVDV1wCRVnhiNvWX2g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAt-8S2lWE9tLhhgTk6t_SDbGQt2NlR96vawIW_2og0Qc137u9A10NlMZKsacMVkq1wbXpQeAP_66gRvTgWdNXsLZz8hMFRtenUAqUFG-pZCO7g2JDacY3ZbMdQzF3Xd2Ilo6j7YpzHygbATFhaqWQY25V539R2pt0LfgK_vkmwVDV1wCRVnhiNvWX2g" width="180" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;">My son is quirky and loyal, easygoing and so smart. He's laid back like his big brother and not at all like his high maintenance sister. I may be biased as his mom, but he is just an overall GOOD GUY. He is definitely someone you want to have in your corner because he will not let you down.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhH-upNSFlEqY9mANmQmoJQNj4baxyp6KHbQ4SNc3IxNEKQMfmirzRLGORX0ROfZqdDUOaiEg_pDV6htRVO_5oNFDDdp7IIoJfYj9ggOWxi8NHrUwO369xSjQrM4NQ6jEIUTIwvTGaLaWDTeGTanX_9g9kjXRM-uo7ga9GYqXqPLPUXidMUVZTNuFEKrg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhH-upNSFlEqY9mANmQmoJQNj4baxyp6KHbQ4SNc3IxNEKQMfmirzRLGORX0ROfZqdDUOaiEg_pDV6htRVO_5oNFDDdp7IIoJfYj9ggOWxi8NHrUwO369xSjQrM4NQ6jEIUTIwvTGaLaWDTeGTanX_9g9kjXRM-uo7ga9GYqXqPLPUXidMUVZTNuFEKrg" width="180" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYW90vZ4lbbmpl8LuoD9k1Q_AYR0aSeqlFTCBCQhzjTj_WqjfJoVrVw7j5ZOY-AfBFMTOubfWSx822HCVscSM3RLPs3_x6HF0Nhga16LPeyM-F8-pY5j2ZrejCoj0x0cip_6_PtY1TDFgxrTLmsuYFmSxYJSIMbJAfRROX0ZP0zKd3w9pvU0sD7tLw7A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="320" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYW90vZ4lbbmpl8LuoD9k1Q_AYR0aSeqlFTCBCQhzjTj_WqjfJoVrVw7j5ZOY-AfBFMTOubfWSx822HCVscSM3RLPs3_x6HF0Nhga16LPeyM-F8-pY5j2ZrejCoj0x0cip_6_PtY1TDFgxrTLmsuYFmSxYJSIMbJAfRROX0ZP0zKd3w9pvU0sD7tLw7A" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUWCABWEXszSY7yEv5xpBbYkjhAWIVL6RXxZoqSrqIhCdf5oTghcH3L3ULjMNb4lsRx3tlOH8I86B8QKRaaA6UkWEp8UfWpGsUh1-ayGxR3Ir2Ivtol9w93zNOIr1KsDYA5cjgGWw72n8zJymS_xiX7NLgM1Ecoja4rb-3LAXfeP98I3MUV__oRTX8uw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="756" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUWCABWEXszSY7yEv5xpBbYkjhAWIVL6RXxZoqSrqIhCdf5oTghcH3L3ULjMNb4lsRx3tlOH8I86B8QKRaaA6UkWEp8UfWpGsUh1-ayGxR3Ir2Ivtol9w93zNOIr1KsDYA5cjgGWw72n8zJymS_xiX7NLgM1Ecoja4rb-3LAXfeP98I3MUV__oRTX8uw" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;">Jared's love of trains that began when he was just a toddler has only continued to grow (and remains his future career choice!). Talking about his favorite things, though, his girl Brooke takes top prize. They've been together for over three years and there are not two people in the world more suited to each other than these two.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyndP8EB8rRW9Yow5BM9vCfwqgCLnC147p6Y5WA1pZWK7zcqQeaC_zzR9VsxmBzqEpQOdffoQMVaUGj3FMymDu3ZsUD6LreqAmlHPC435NaOBaexLZis5xh3io2hw9Hc5ZKjcD-R6ZkoG-gMiAakSd78Z0IWvlFkKURED1RllBapSvPwQfT1rVHXhgNg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyndP8EB8rRW9Yow5BM9vCfwqgCLnC147p6Y5WA1pZWK7zcqQeaC_zzR9VsxmBzqEpQOdffoQMVaUGj3FMymDu3ZsUD6LreqAmlHPC435NaOBaexLZis5xh3io2hw9Hc5ZKjcD-R6ZkoG-gMiAakSd78Z0IWvlFkKURED1RllBapSvPwQfT1rVHXhgNg" width="180" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdVYsfY_xxNprB1hRINHfG1Fo959TcGd3oxPS6d8wIBx6QOEFoU_FUNpUw-tr5WO5umA-95Iu5VJ1u1-LLIQQ4d_5npuFC5SSDOtLcXJVCJKdb720DEFy_xbWHpUWA6Rdwzs-vPveqsxTpjGgrn9nqK6EL5mjsEqTmIwEFpvD_gwg-B_Ua7gkOXjJ0CA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhdVYsfY_xxNprB1hRINHfG1Fo959TcGd3oxPS6d8wIBx6QOEFoU_FUNpUw-tr5WO5umA-95Iu5VJ1u1-LLIQQ4d_5npuFC5SSDOtLcXJVCJKdb720DEFy_xbWHpUWA6Rdwzs-vPveqsxTpjGgrn9nqK6EL5mjsEqTmIwEFpvD_gwg-B_Ua7gkOXjJ0CA" width="180" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7_XwU5nVzRM8WcgK5p33IxPTtDoxJjOY7UeeXvAg4G6dGZf_0G-7hRYJD9_rFrHjhVODo1IvFiTK7WV9mGSg3n34FZiOls-KQXKOkwjHI4GuZrnt9U_FlqQNaWwgj_jkwTKp7b6vCcrimb37Ku7zZftrOd-R7_v2JHaPartJ3CStPWBuacx7WQZLHZw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7_XwU5nVzRM8WcgK5p33IxPTtDoxJjOY7UeeXvAg4G6dGZf_0G-7hRYJD9_rFrHjhVODo1IvFiTK7WV9mGSg3n34FZiOls-KQXKOkwjHI4GuZrnt9U_FlqQNaWwgj_jkwTKp7b6vCcrimb37Ku7zZftrOd-R7_v2JHaPartJ3CStPWBuacx7WQZLHZw" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ75WKckse5pAATHpU-NYQqvy-_oZYcqM4a_e7XHTkgkEDeD0ZBWody4mZ09QVDkffBX_xWPXY-72FOvk8fcYusiyd20qK5jr2Ijx6Y4W88g6Egb2FZQN8ewrLPpYyx51vX0xkTYzTIlfexOHxqJmDRcK9-smHT3Rc8SontIFQB82rG1mK6IRVb5M3eQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="759" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZ75WKckse5pAATHpU-NYQqvy-_oZYcqM4a_e7XHTkgkEDeD0ZBWody4mZ09QVDkffBX_xWPXY-72FOvk8fcYusiyd20qK5jr2Ijx6Y4W88g6Egb2FZQN8ewrLPpYyx51vX0xkTYzTIlfexOHxqJmDRcK9-smHT3Rc8SontIFQB82rG1mK6IRVb5M3eQ" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;">Close behind Brooke and trains on Jared's list of favorite things are video games, Legos (still), jazz music, WWE and all things Star Wars. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFMmtG9x_-i4AkhSzOJLYEnmIS5zeymPdWvYamw9zKqNqY-mBHDECWUsjjtS0PbfSXMbZ6mhyJ8-KIYBFdjsjnEDgSSyF8HyUM8tcJm5C5EFfRS-T50AWUbv_9BNbaOpQy2SeMrrxTtBTymiJeuaT-BTT2_-rZApELf9kYD7I8fHi4x3J9c_0itNBKlg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="720" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFMmtG9x_-i4AkhSzOJLYEnmIS5zeymPdWvYamw9zKqNqY-mBHDECWUsjjtS0PbfSXMbZ6mhyJ8-KIYBFdjsjnEDgSSyF8HyUM8tcJm5C5EFfRS-T50AWUbv_9BNbaOpQy2SeMrrxTtBTymiJeuaT-BTT2_-rZApELf9kYD7I8fHi4x3J9c_0itNBKlg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWVyPnH8JbF7aobc1rj6D-VWfE0TTgm3QF4cKs8u5YS1MHgoeJNRuamxhncH9WydlA2M_0LRnz6K7RmaLw6Q_10VecOGGbavwnuNxPI1Gc82JKhEcnWL9aJBpibzQtHvuL-rfUPL8YEZoxtG8KjPHojLBcyRu1OVqDq2pbcTH0We2g7ou8vO58_-tdYg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWVyPnH8JbF7aobc1rj6D-VWfE0TTgm3QF4cKs8u5YS1MHgoeJNRuamxhncH9WydlA2M_0LRnz6K7RmaLw6Q_10VecOGGbavwnuNxPI1Gc82JKhEcnWL9aJBpibzQtHvuL-rfUPL8YEZoxtG8KjPHojLBcyRu1OVqDq2pbcTH0We2g7ou8vO58_-tdYg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZmM_6FhFN5CXhEv-z8L8mRnWXqOWU6Ghb9oduTyCBgyK_6KuBjzbhf4ftbjERB09u6um-SzU6PhU5P7bQbJkJl8Oltg2GE8Z2kadKAqSpj-cQrLf2z03rHgoVFa0cHuTQ0uQeeLifOlW5Dj6pnpb46CC5MLCN2WVcwJeKcaXEgsHdpbW1LNMYsa4t0A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZmM_6FhFN5CXhEv-z8L8mRnWXqOWU6Ghb9oduTyCBgyK_6KuBjzbhf4ftbjERB09u6um-SzU6PhU5P7bQbJkJl8Oltg2GE8Z2kadKAqSpj-cQrLf2z03rHgoVFa0cHuTQ0uQeeLifOlW5Dj6pnpb46CC5MLCN2WVcwJeKcaXEgsHdpbW1LNMYsa4t0A" width="180" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTl_SpD841Q_JjvgNbguetzuzhE0FvAGUyPtSyjsk0kKFnNqiIylSHjxh2C9gsO85f0CJ6DlYwZj1wHwXqFZs1mDruKkDplJObQgK5fFKIhY-qfCyJpB0_ytH14TRDJBFNfzoKSD3-BDRQUuY2KJKpg_TTbvVotjCWEqOJ1YKKlzCJrieRtuQQatbu6g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="759" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTl_SpD841Q_JjvgNbguetzuzhE0FvAGUyPtSyjsk0kKFnNqiIylSHjxh2C9gsO85f0CJ6DlYwZj1wHwXqFZs1mDruKkDplJObQgK5fFKIhY-qfCyJpB0_ytH14TRDJBFNfzoKSD3-BDRQUuY2KJKpg_TTbvVotjCWEqOJ1YKKlzCJrieRtuQQatbu6g" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDQbONepYt95yyRaQB2y095I_DIt7du9fSWOkgOadF0yldqXNe4scuC2x20p-ONXiis5kwZ6ubzlnKnMLQq0mkawQgkC6EMW_9TznfY-rCictGTnWP7qPUhagvlL91yUovUr2lIZw5lsyYE0WRtJGK9CpjVp8Vin_mMNdkx5QjCzVpaG_Ts-6U76bASQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="759" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjDQbONepYt95yyRaQB2y095I_DIt7du9fSWOkgOadF0yldqXNe4scuC2x20p-ONXiis5kwZ6ubzlnKnMLQq0mkawQgkC6EMW_9TznfY-rCictGTnWP7qPUhagvlL91yUovUr2lIZw5lsyYE0WRtJGK9CpjVp8Vin_mMNdkx5QjCzVpaG_Ts-6U76bASQ" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah; font-size: medium;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Jared has been a joy from the day he came into this world. He was my little miracle baby and is now a young man I am proud to call my friend as well as my son. He has such a warm heart, good intentions and creative ideas. There is not a mean bone in his body (unless he's yelling at his video game). He's a careful driver, a responsible employee, the best brother and son anyone could ask for.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKBPn4QbJlhdOB36q8PBKrPyLKAqRt_4xr6q_Vnpo0ZuVQynLZJL8PuY0ja4vhgPZRw-k4payo0dFr3M26moc72v6_2iDoaDMks18rGk8u7pP2vhrWuBSDI1_pLATiWOwkCfS2lyHc6Tj9qQ_103TwCeC4ZyBn1q_kRqdRsfVVurjTYNWyjRnv2U9q3Q" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKBPn4QbJlhdOB36q8PBKrPyLKAqRt_4xr6q_Vnpo0ZuVQynLZJL8PuY0ja4vhgPZRw-k4payo0dFr3M26moc72v6_2iDoaDMks18rGk8u7pP2vhrWuBSDI1_pLATiWOwkCfS2lyHc6Tj9qQ_103TwCeC4ZyBn1q_kRqdRsfVVurjTYNWyjRnv2U9q3Q" width="179" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinUDI-A4mMEdY3H_lCFZjrYNMc60wnRcdM8nzOQrvDALT0kNThUURfQ5VykHoED5oxNMJ8BU3bje0rtZ-Jef9xMDku6mbTzMcqWrH0dzKHusJp4sxo2JtSV1bpD-7I4GYh5y4S5WTIJqr6bVieLqAc9NTRDrDY35re-qGckjkoVvFaK8RXgaTBG8xZNA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="213" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEinUDI-A4mMEdY3H_lCFZjrYNMc60wnRcdM8nzOQrvDALT0kNThUURfQ5VykHoED5oxNMJ8BU3bje0rtZ-Jef9xMDku6mbTzMcqWrH0dzKHusJp4sxo2JtSV1bpD-7I4GYh5y4S5WTIJqr6bVieLqAc9NTRDrDY35re-qGckjkoVvFaK8RXgaTBG8xZNA" width="160" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpldNRhnwx0jJGiDspxeWNIukHj_SboaHwdHYQnEksV_3R9ucqJSMndMDljwkwkXy5ITcmZ_DM0piyfFHQoF2knrXS49_CzvLXDgbZbFmRnjhq4xdjTitLt0nG8J3tXojDYm5dshPm1M8JP4ky5yPKTtKL9eFfuvKEkogHwLGb6_ftc144iU0Awop6uQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhpldNRhnwx0jJGiDspxeWNIukHj_SboaHwdHYQnEksV_3R9ucqJSMndMDljwkwkXy5ITcmZ_DM0piyfFHQoF2knrXS49_CzvLXDgbZbFmRnjhq4xdjTitLt0nG8J3tXojDYm5dshPm1M8JP4ky5yPKTtKL9eFfuvKEkogHwLGb6_ftc144iU0Awop6uQ" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjL3aGfUPk0BqUW5wQgEuvn4TtAFVCS09-3EVR1C1bQeybkLIf_V1bu7EUKKG4zp1wk_ugvqF95fl7cVmcIuPLtiSKYugo2VCZRYJaGrwIU37ZH48kMSlDUHJT3pB7kpEVowzuZCOSxLa767C7P15PG-AFplmOk2Fneb8AeolnYfVBQEfhWMGUPlfQdqw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjL3aGfUPk0BqUW5wQgEuvn4TtAFVCS09-3EVR1C1bQeybkLIf_V1bu7EUKKG4zp1wk_ugvqF95fl7cVmcIuPLtiSKYugo2VCZRYJaGrwIU37ZH48kMSlDUHJT3pB7kpEVowzuZCOSxLa767C7P15PG-AFplmOk2Fneb8AeolnYfVBQEfhWMGUPlfQdqw" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbgUzABEcUUc-gixbD0QFfyq1FSzXK_Eyv2RZOZ0V1hjjMQDuHZYzw5cBieC9cwKTvhnL1tbs1MYNXgRvdZewrGYt9KEmXDy3fnXEgoj2DTD-uHbC6T3XLRtqNZgTiFH5xV9TLT1HIg5RJFdSDtY8LaeSrSAxHftNmqsGBizWry0MeDQx31MM1DjL3Rw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="759" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbgUzABEcUUc-gixbD0QFfyq1FSzXK_Eyv2RZOZ0V1hjjMQDuHZYzw5cBieC9cwKTvhnL1tbs1MYNXgRvdZewrGYt9KEmXDy3fnXEgoj2DTD-uHbC6T3XLRtqNZgTiFH5xV9TLT1HIg5RJFdSDtY8LaeSrSAxHftNmqsGBizWry0MeDQx31MM1DjL3Rw" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbeW2Ri7Rs03xpSuTEkBhFAvy2ZuySRyrv4E8GNTnQJ78r5tqQJnkBgdBAWo7IUr_O-ENUp7PXQc9t3BcSTeV_EwpKdFD-pI_Hc9wWocrYO8oIob73NCNYhxSPEFsSYsgMeH8F7D3jg5M9Ub5u0barmdPeB6ce-kyX4kx6zo0sLftIYrurFhHgf7AkBA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="759" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbeW2Ri7Rs03xpSuTEkBhFAvy2ZuySRyrv4E8GNTnQJ78r5tqQJnkBgdBAWo7IUr_O-ENUp7PXQc9t3BcSTeV_EwpKdFD-pI_Hc9wWocrYO8oIob73NCNYhxSPEFsSYsgMeH8F7D3jg5M9Ub5u0barmdPeB6ce-kyX4kx6zo0sLftIYrurFhHgf7AkBA" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPsHF1E6e0X9vE0XKAXTqH438bksTEEGxGhwF2Qe-Bhnx59KsmOfIEdr9Gl_YSuoWJRIBDuvyZWZ9IUTEbKAnquw1Nv2mlR6yuoglKqIk4TadYlm42hMLbUIHjmWSnpD9vHbGdUdp3uHN_rtx2uAxitaZI_qsKyzmPKhdoBU-eInJEVR688TCGb6tvOQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPsHF1E6e0X9vE0XKAXTqH438bksTEEGxGhwF2Qe-Bhnx59KsmOfIEdr9Gl_YSuoWJRIBDuvyZWZ9IUTEbKAnquw1Nv2mlR6yuoglKqIk4TadYlm42hMLbUIHjmWSnpD9vHbGdUdp3uHN_rtx2uAxitaZI_qsKyzmPKhdoBU-eInJEVR688TCGb6tvOQ" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIrhSmfSMHl-O65eL3i6ZLNGjZ8WGE1XQl_sVvKAJmzJ2PLVgGG1bjQKJwLDvtfjbW67ZE1vsVgIvwIixrVTqKtTpvFfvT4g1828u6MUC-dh2ajRksVoL_gtMyfnGYCkRuXWuAg8T6SqYFbBMPJT1nQP-ZXFsjh-8cMiQs5kfKuUxYTFUYycY_1PVx9w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="759" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIrhSmfSMHl-O65eL3i6ZLNGjZ8WGE1XQl_sVvKAJmzJ2PLVgGG1bjQKJwLDvtfjbW67ZE1vsVgIvwIixrVTqKtTpvFfvT4g1828u6MUC-dh2ajRksVoL_gtMyfnGYCkRuXWuAg8T6SqYFbBMPJT1nQP-ZXFsjh-8cMiQs5kfKuUxYTFUYycY_1PVx9w" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv4Mqm2-dSq5DDvLJDQ3O-omyK2rAaX9bAk1kgkGpXBFEhjIGfwe2FS2lE7PAbgrLDP7JO7wa0vBIAOdFL1yBJyUAfLVB8n-U6MSgkRaj9GRF9UYJtG8-G7Uh8Ksc0K7Z1teqNHRlEimi7lsnzo8-tzkatgdYD2zpkNwMrcssRSljyLsoVLWpi2qORiw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="760" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjv4Mqm2-dSq5DDvLJDQ3O-omyK2rAaX9bAk1kgkGpXBFEhjIGfwe2FS2lE7PAbgrLDP7JO7wa0vBIAOdFL1yBJyUAfLVB8n-U6MSgkRaj9GRF9UYJtG8-G7Uh8Ksc0K7Z1teqNHRlEimi7lsnzo8-tzkatgdYD2zpkNwMrcssRSljyLsoVLWpi2qORiw" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;">I am so proud of the amazing person he has grown into. Happy 21st birthday Jared. I hope it's your best year yet. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWZD2IsDDQhznWB4DF1-4yZ7uRvDi_zOTThn-VBwxyvFEyqWa8fl4Y4bquwIGfe-lVPoIzGDjJaFDuu015Lc0UtEWkCqOjGKI1rQu1M-6FLrd-rjWeQRlMT86W2PcRiwpoEC-NfUyuQvrSZy4vHoHf5JFlGlxzTaW8gkEkXxVExaoNpo1q-5BbzBfNkA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="393" data-original-width="593" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWZD2IsDDQhznWB4DF1-4yZ7uRvDi_zOTThn-VBwxyvFEyqWa8fl4Y4bquwIGfe-lVPoIzGDjJaFDuu015Lc0UtEWkCqOjGKI1rQu1M-6FLrd-rjWeQRlMT86W2PcRiwpoEC-NfUyuQvrSZy4vHoHf5JFlGlxzTaW8gkEkXxVExaoNpo1q-5BbzBfNkA" width="320" /></a></div></span></div></div></div></div></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-1893489254566088162022-06-19T17:42:00.000-05:002022-06-19T17:42:39.224-05:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2187<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuabZhX7KLAPpI1FV3_CA-qQOv5l5ry-1Gv8YwZUTQ_fnySZoRwkQhMJBWJaf5Fb3ZlDnQc_Z7J-ai7ctEjgnSok4pOzwBsDtN5Rt5bbTcc5LK63ybk_SEjzV6bRIU8ZP8ORpDU8chH3-TbEyqHZzRd3bE1SFLJTQ4UDfDrKZagH5Wwu60G7unOMhxg/s800/76934eeb0707189da87d18e23388e007.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuabZhX7KLAPpI1FV3_CA-qQOv5l5ry-1Gv8YwZUTQ_fnySZoRwkQhMJBWJaf5Fb3ZlDnQc_Z7J-ai7ctEjgnSok4pOzwBsDtN5Rt5bbTcc5LK63ybk_SEjzV6bRIU8ZP8ORpDU8chH3-TbEyqHZzRd3bE1SFLJTQ4UDfDrKZagH5Wwu60G7unOMhxg/s320/76934eeb0707189da87d18e23388e007.png" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">Today marks the first Father's Day without my dad. <br />The first Father's Day I didn't get to buy and send a card to MY dad. <br />The first Father's Day I didn't get to call and wish him a good day.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">The first real holiday that gut-punched me with missing him so so much.</span></div><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;">It was almost five months to the day that I last spoke to my dad. He tried to talk to me, he held my hand and he hugged me. Six days later he passed away.<br />I don't care how old you are, a girl never stops needing her daddy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPMuqc47BX37dzAaEHFpH6xQFY9gFCx1F4_u6NG5bc5kjRPe3xMHQy4LPEuAvJc8V-Sttdlfcnm_v0aINQNjUwZ22ic_wS1tSXaWy0Uf4FBQOI8Ta35fygG6jqa9i_GaGfa_lV_2GtfjRpE74ESRu_p06pfEQo8F_Hub9vF9HppecqpPbsX5nCiiOVQ/s3130/20220122_171513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3130" data-original-width="2726" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPMuqc47BX37dzAaEHFpH6xQFY9gFCx1F4_u6NG5bc5kjRPe3xMHQy4LPEuAvJc8V-Sttdlfcnm_v0aINQNjUwZ22ic_wS1tSXaWy0Uf4FBQOI8Ta35fygG6jqa9i_GaGfa_lV_2GtfjRpE74ESRu_p06pfEQo8F_Hub9vF9HppecqpPbsX5nCiiOVQ/s320/20220122_171513.jpg" width="279" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1438" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbf5fTiQHCDe26NSYq4D6goHJJpWJH-XlLf0o2QmG5Ve15iNeP_aGbSTN-WqB81okPJTL4sftK0VSx61kgJNfYhPsd7xR8LNkwADlH7YvO94GVt2GAyVBqMYoDwHPpok4_GfbDHZFg_pYtUiJ00mAO6CnHBeoT27xDDLWoQcV6O0itoP8OUOl46gVqWA/s320/Screenshot_20220127-063215_Facebook.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><b>Dad,</b> I hope you have had the BEST day in heaven. <br />You were the best father a girl could ask for. <br />Life handed you a lot of lemons, and yet you kept on keeping on, <br />loving your family in your own quiet way. <br />A lof of people could learn from the way you walked in your faith.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><b>Happy Father's Day. I love you and I miss you.</b></span></div><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqo5oe0ASrbBaqO_8BWaS9eqBu4bPDZ84c00WzTPLFWg_rWvt9anZjbYPFb53Qgab0JBY-V7cOBfvCJqeim-oztSZ4s0SH5vGqVNRE4Xb9RaPBp4h7pyp_KZgOZ2Nc-E4YtFzak2yWpQTvp-wu2KebatHWnAJ40OwDD-rC73TLesc27jZvm1xCG5N8fw/s768/FB_IMG_1623940194235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqo5oe0ASrbBaqO_8BWaS9eqBu4bPDZ84c00WzTPLFWg_rWvt9anZjbYPFb53Qgab0JBY-V7cOBfvCJqeim-oztSZ4s0SH5vGqVNRE4Xb9RaPBp4h7pyp_KZgOZ2Nc-E4YtFzak2yWpQTvp-wu2KebatHWnAJ40OwDD-rC73TLesc27jZvm1xCG5N8fw/s320/FB_IMG_1623940194235.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Shadows Into Light; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E_DebeE3y1Y" width="320" youtube-src-id="E_DebeE3y1Y"></iframe></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-59881918760036230092022-02-01T18:28:00.001-06:002022-02-01T18:28:18.411-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2049<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br></div><div>Yesterday my dad was laid to rest.</div><div><br></div><div>I have never attended a military burial before. It's just like in the movies, but it's SO.MUCH.MORE.</div><div><br></div><div>The setting...</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></div><div><br></div><div>Pristine and breathtaking at the Ulster County Veterans Cemetery overlooking Mohonk Mountain. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br>I don't know where these veterans were all from, but they have my heartfelt gratitude. They stood out in freezing temperatures so my father could receive the military honors he deserved. </div><div>I was told that a few of them saw my dad's obituary in the paper and they called, VOLUNTEERING to be there. </div><div>Band of brothers.</div><div><br></div><div><b>Gratitude</b>.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br>The three gun salute. (signifying duty, honor and country)</div><div>Taps.</div><div>Receiving the flag honoring my dad's service.</div><div><br></div><div>I know that will be one of the most memorable moments of my life. <br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>My dad was born in Odessa, Ukraine. His family was granted passage into the US as displaced persons of war in 1951.</div><div>He served in the army before he was even a United States citizen. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>He was honorably discharged after returning home from serving in Vietnam. He then went on to serve four more years in the reserves. </div><div><br></div><div>My dad became a naturalized citizen on Jan 4, 1971.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></div><div><br></div><div>He was a good man. </div><div>People often say that about people when they die. </div><div>But he was a GOOD man. </div><div><br></div><div>He loved God. His faith was very important to him, and he walked the walk every single day. </div><div>He was devoted to his family. He was a fun dad. He was a caring partner. He was a loving Opa.</div><div>He worked hard all his life. <br></div><div>He could build anything, fix anything, and had the patience of a saint. </div><div><br></div><div>Seven years ago his active lifestyle was changed forever by a heart attack and stroke (attributed to his exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam).</div><div><br></div><div>Seven years of watching golf instead of playing it. Seven years of walking with a walker instead of hiking up a mountain. Seven years of needing to be taken care of instead of taking care of everyone. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></div><div><br></div><div>Spending his last days with him was heartbreaking for me, but also a blessing. </div><div><br></div><div>I hated to say goodbye. </div><div>But he was tired. His work here was done. </div><div><br></div><div>Rest easy, Dad. You earned it. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br><br><br></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-63229919810527866632022-01-30T12:55:00.001-06:002022-01-30T13:06:04.763-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2047<b>GRATITUDE...</b><div>(<i>Yes, that is capitalized for a reason.</i>)</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>I don't even have the words to express how grateful I am for my village. </div><div><br></div><div>โค My husband, who dropped everything (even though work is busy) to fly up to NY with me (and he HATES to fly). He is the very definition of a supportive partner and I could not do life without him. </div><div><br></div><div>๐ My son, who abruptly took over running our household, including parenting duty of a 15 year old. </div><div>๐ป My daughter, whose faith in God lifted me up when I needed it most.</div><div>๐ผ My mom, who has always given me unwavering support.</div><div>๐ My mom friends who have selflessly taken K under their wings while we were away, giving her rides, mending her dress, taking her to get pampered and sharing photos from last night's Winter Formal when I couldn't be there. </div><div>๐ My friend, who is always on call for Dexter duty, who loves my dog as much as I do and is always, always available when I need something. </div><div>๐ My son's girlfriend, who is a calm and steady presence in his life, and another of our fur baby caretakers, and Dexter's favorite person. </div><div>๐ฅ My son's boss, who immediately sent him home from work and gave him as much time off as needed when she learned of my dad's passing. She's not only a great manager but a wonderful friend to me. </div><div>๐งก My sister-in-law, with whom I share a job, who has worked a lot of extra days so I could be here in NY.</div><div>๐ My hubby's work family, from his brother and his job foreman to all of the employees on the job site sending prayers. </div><div>๐ฅค My godmother who delivered a much-needed cold drink during one of the long, long days spent at my dad's bedside. The 30 minute visit with her was the highlight of that day. </div><div>๐ฉโโค๏ธโ๐จ My dad's longtime companion who took amazing care of him 24/7 for many, many years. She gave him a loving home and I'm forever grateful. </div><div>๐ All of my family and friends, both near and far, who have prayed for us, called and sent messages of support and love. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div><br></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-81723323625870100912022-01-22T21:02:00.001-06:002022-01-22T21:07:38.549-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2039January 22nd is Celebration of Life Day. <div><br><div><b>Gratitude</b>...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>So blessed to celebrate THIS man's life. So blessed to call this man my dad. So blessed to spend this time with him. So blessed that I can tell him over and over "I love you Dad". He is so deserving of being celebrated. </div><div><br></div><div>Also incredibly blessed that my husband, who HATES to fly, insisted on coming with me. He's my rock and I don't think I could do this trip without him. </div><div>He told me, "If you need to go, then I need to go with you."</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br></div><div>Even the incredibly hard days can be a blessing. Please pray for my family. ๐</div></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-67505070091696305082022-01-17T09:28:00.003-06:002022-01-17T09:41:21.607-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2034<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><b>Gratitude...</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqDNLkiZ9Nd6VBA7wsR1okurHd0ILBebaueDMOMuc9ddCl-uNUp6Gy_1wAhxxplTs8TTSNUi6tzwnBVY82vYBK8hFYCT-UtKT0tVtOzc2RFKo5KaTVvSLgVOWxVC3AbtZAylkdpCwZjn6CmyXR21W1IXm9lZsjtJKN0lDYfHXbaUXlxmvWFcice1q8Ew=s968" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="722" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqDNLkiZ9Nd6VBA7wsR1okurHd0ILBebaueDMOMuc9ddCl-uNUp6Gy_1wAhxxplTs8TTSNUi6tzwnBVY82vYBK8hFYCT-UtKT0tVtOzc2RFKo5KaTVvSLgVOWxVC3AbtZAylkdpCwZjn6CmyXR21W1IXm9lZsjtJKN0lDYfHXbaUXlxmvWFcice1q8Ew=s320" width="239" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">After yesterday's pity party post, I needed to talk about something that makes me happy. These two make me happy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">I am so blessed that J found someone who perfectly fits him. She is his first girlfriend. He is her first boyfriend. They've been together for two and a half years.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">They are two peas in a pod, and you will not find a nicer, more kind couple anywhere.</span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-6633879949848770972022-01-16T22:53:00.002-06:002022-01-17T09:05:53.040-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2033<span style="font-family: Cuprum;">Yeah, I've missed a few more days. I'm not even going to try to catch up. <br />You know what? </span><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm not even going to do a "gratitude" post today. ๐ถ</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">2022 can stick it where the sun don't shine ๐ฉ because it's been nothing but storm clouds hanging over my head and over everyone around me. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">My washer AND dryer are broken.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I am STILL fighting this stupid cold. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">My daughter ended up in the ER a few nights ago with severe stomach pain. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">My dad in a care facility has COVID. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">My beloved (but stupid) Cowboys lost their playoff game today. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">The high school postponed their winter plays... one of which my daughter had the lead role in. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm tired, God. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm tired of worrying. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm tired of worrying about COVID and about money and about work and about my family's health. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm tired of the sad state of affairs our country is in. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I'm tired of sadness and sickness and stress. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">I want to find the "every day is a gift" mentality... but right now every day is one big huge struggle. And I just want to talk to my big brother ๐ข</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Cuprum;">Also please pray for my dear friend Abby. She lost her mom this morning. ๐</span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-13704375356587954832022-01-11T21:36:00.002-06:002022-01-11T21:36:08.829-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2028<p><span style="font-family: Kalam;">Do you know what is bad about life during a pandemic?<br />Aside from people getting sick and dying, of course.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikgQP5bOnBKZqCTKQB0yFGPgMFd5jhCk04K99ggN7w2KYEsS0P2AvQM_Ro80FRlZHPB7EenMzKpQewJCuX8_2Ve-nLlKAQR_VAb4c3PnObayAD-dFgPCvex27oNJGGiA5-brachDuuWMUunB-LbDDKCEmt-5hBmQDD1ygNC0pzxdRizqdSU1EVt4jemA=s2000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Kalam;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="2000" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikgQP5bOnBKZqCTKQB0yFGPgMFd5jhCk04K99ggN7w2KYEsS0P2AvQM_Ro80FRlZHPB7EenMzKpQewJCuX8_2Ve-nLlKAQR_VAb4c3PnObayAD-dFgPCvex27oNJGGiA5-brachDuuWMUunB-LbDDKCEmt-5hBmQDD1ygNC0pzxdRizqdSU1EVt4jemA=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: Kalam;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Kalam;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">It seems like you are not allowed to simply have a common cold anymore. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For the past few days I have been under the weather. I have a sore, scratchy throat that's making me cough. My head feels fuzzy, and overall I just feel like crud. I've had about two thousand cups of hot tea with honey. I'm running out of mugs. And spoons. And sugar.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What I do <b><u>not</u></b> have is a fever or a headache or body aches or fatigue or congestion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I do not have COVID. I know, because I took a test. I also know because I've had it before, and it gives me the worst headache of my life. And a fever. And body aches. And fatigue. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You get my point.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I gave K a t-shirt last year that says "Calm down Karen, it's just allergies". It's meant to be funny, but it's also not. I mean, God forbid you sneeze in public during the pandemic. Students at her school can't even go to the nurse to get Advil for cramps... because if you need Advil you must have COVID. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, I'm not supposed to be complaining, am I. Ok... so...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Gratitude...</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm grateful that ALL I have is a cold.</div></span></div></div><p></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-26479987396189902422022-01-10T21:10:00.001-06:002022-01-11T21:18:03.175-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2027<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJq5s0ztRHp8Q0NHNnfds4vFMfCcN5TEnRS3xXFC09n4wca74HVBnneLo23LKupLWLTtY0vyJNrIlXzNHnPowh6CmvhG4Kgv3cnYyPV_XVz3omnxuej8Ps-CqtCsZQWDu64K0HCgtixWU/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="474" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJq5s0ztRHp8Q0NHNnfds4vFMfCcN5TEnRS3xXFC09n4wca74HVBnneLo23LKupLWLTtY0vyJNrIlXzNHnPowh6CmvhG4Kgv3cnYyPV_XVz3omnxuej8Ps-CqtCsZQWDu64K0HCgtixWU/" width="303" /></a></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">We are eleven days into the new year and I'm not doing a great job of posting every day. See... this is why I don't make new year's resolutions. I suck at them. ha!</span><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Let's see... <b>Gratitude...</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Yesterday (when I was <i>supposed</i> to write this) was a Monday. It was also my Monday off. I'm off every other Monday, and even though I had to get up to take K to school, and Dexter to the groomer, and K to the doctor, and K back to school... it's really a good Monday when you don't have to go to work. </span></div><div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;"> </p></div><p> <br /><br /></p></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-18922643981140168002022-01-09T23:16:00.002-06:002022-01-11T21:37:53.681-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2026<b>Gratitude</b>...<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br /></div>I love my quirky kitty who loves boxes. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br /></div>Goose ๐โโฌ๐</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-68944120977715979522022-01-08T23:12:00.001-06:002022-01-11T21:38:30.027-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2025<span style="font-family: Satisfy;"><b>Gratitude</b>...</span><div><span style="font-family: Satisfy;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: Satisfy;">Twenty-two years ago I received my first email ever from my hubby. We "met" online the night before. </span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: Satisfy;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</span></div><span style="font-family: Satisfy;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Satisfy;">I still have that email. ๐</span></div><div><br /></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-2540166533250700052022-01-07T23:04:00.001-06:002022-01-11T21:39:24.653-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2024<div><b>Gratitude</b>...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">I'm not thankful my daughter is a teen mom. ๐คฃ</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">I am amused to see her walking out of school with her "baby" and all paraphernalia that comes with it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">This is a project for her Child Development class and she will have to care for baby "Requisha" 24/7 until Monday. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Quicksand;">Good luck Kels.</span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-22377966811261696552022-01-06T21:45:00.002-06:002022-01-11T21:39:54.591-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2023<div><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div></b><span style="font-family: Playfair Display;"><b>Gratitude</b>...<b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Playfair Display;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Playfair Display;">Playing the part of the audience while Hubby reads through lines with K... it touches my heart that this man who had zero theater exposure before his daughter found a passion for it will sit and read through scripts with her for hours. ๐ฅฐ (she has the lead so there are a LOT of lines to go over!)</span></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-87448462921286334592022-01-05T09:36:00.001-06:002022-01-11T21:40:30.648-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2022<span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">Whelp....I already missed a day. </span><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">Hangs head.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">My only excuse is that my son shared germs and they finally caught up to me, sunk in and dug their claws in me. I was TIRED. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><b>Gratitude</b>...</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;">I love working for my hubby, and sharing a job with my sister-in-law. It just so happened that the day I felt cruddiest was my first day off (we rotate 5 days on, 5 days off).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Gloria Hallelujah;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /></div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-48959970492665935352022-01-04T17:54:00.002-06:002022-01-11T21:41:10.853-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - day 2021<p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">Monday Night Football between the Steelers and the Browns. Yawn. I could not have cared less about that game. </span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">But wait.... I kinda did care. </span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;"><b>Gratitude.</b>..</span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">I am in no way, shape or form a fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers or Big Ben....<br />
However watching Roethlisberger take a knee on that last snap in victory formation in his last game at Heinz Field... watching him hugging his teammates and family on the field... acknowledging the fans of the city that had embraced him as their QB for almost two decades.... watching him walk a lap around the stadium to high five those fans and soak it all in... you could tell he didn't want that night to end.</span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">It was obvious that Ben's emotions were close to the surface all night, and the football fan in me just had to feel for the guy who was most likely playing his last home game after 18 years with the Steelers. </span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">THAT is one of the big reasons I'm such a sports fan... moments like that. ๐๐</span></p><p dir="ltr"><span style="font-family: Bitter;">https://www.espn.com/nfl/story/_/id/32989458/pittsburgh-steelers-qb-ben-roethlisberger-gets-wish-ends-last-game-heinz-field-win</span></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-37807101754299883162022-01-03T08:21:00.005-06:002022-01-03T08:24:45.219-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - Day 2020<p><b><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;">Gratitude...</span></b></p><p><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;">On this day 8 years ago I had my second cancer-related surgery, and it was a doozy. Nine hours to rid my body of cancer. Hubby had a stressful day of waiting. I had a great nap.</span></p><p><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;">A mastectomy is not fun. It's not a "boob job". It's major surgery that removes body parts.... parts I was rather fond of. I couldn't lift my arms over my head for weeks. I lived in button down pajamas. I had to take showers with drains hanging from a lanyard around my neck. <br />I didn't look like me. <br /><u>I finally looked sick.</u></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJG48m6Y57qwvZ7vT5TbwCizQy3fl91GpMhFLkLz3-luPGSoXFhKAJWONtGldWX7yyMRTtaxxcE6gBcPpiRSbx_PM5EsATSynb4K5w7vLJCdHsuguxJWaeiOnlgzFkakIUTTrYz6rKWZu3ayPeeUBRW2j0XFbhz-0dqys_cW_JYeu8MdBC5QR4UU6fTg=s328" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="236" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJG48m6Y57qwvZ7vT5TbwCizQy3fl91GpMhFLkLz3-luPGSoXFhKAJWONtGldWX7yyMRTtaxxcE6gBcPpiRSbx_PM5EsATSynb4K5w7vLJCdHsuguxJWaeiOnlgzFkakIUTTrYz6rKWZu3ayPeeUBRW2j0XFbhz-0dqys_cW_JYeu8MdBC5QR4UU6fTg=s320" width="230" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #b80b56; font-family: Bitter;"><span>Even so, I'm grateful for that surgery, and my scars from it. <br />They mean I was stronger than cancer.</span><span> ๐ช</span></span><p></p><span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Cabin;"><br /></span><p><br /></p>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-31807489104781012552022-01-02T19:01:00.003-06:002022-01-11T21:41:35.575-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - Day 2019<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span style="font-family: Cinzel;">Gratitude...</span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: Cinzel;">Even though my beloved Cowboys didn't win today, this dog in his Cowboys shirt makes me happy. </span> ๐๐๐</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-923492648093247920.post-48629901178455273012022-01-01T14:06:00.003-06:002022-01-03T08:15:12.409-06:00Kicking cancer's ass - Day 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year! </div><div>The last couple of years have been filled with so many blessings. But they haven't been easy. Our world is filled with illness and strife, division and hate (thank you COVID-19 ๐ก). Life has changed so much in a very short time. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I was diagnosed with cancer and started treatment in August 2013, I posted in my blog EVERY DAY. Through chemo and radiation and numerous surgeries... I wrote it all down. It was a record of what I was going through, as well as a way to document my feelings. I posted every day for over a year... then every few days... to now maybe every few months when something major happens. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to change that, so I am challenging myself to write something every day. In a world filled with difficulty and division and illness and stress, it's easy to get caught up in complaining about life. I don't want to do that. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't make New Year's resolutions (because who needs that kind of pressure? Lol) but...</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /></div><div>In 2022 I want to focus on the positives, the blessings, the fun and the happiness in my life. I want to post something good about every day... something that made me laugh or smile or touched my heart. </div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Gratitude...</b></div><div>Today I was blessed to see a video posted on Facebook of a friend singing. It's a short phone video recorded in the car and my friend Zan is just singing along with the radio. It's not meant to be a performance or anything like that. But it's BEAUTIFUL. Her voice is so pretty and I love the song (The Power of Your Loce). It made me happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know if you can see it if you aren't friends with her, but here's the link:</div><div>https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10166378849245392&id=553635391<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I hope 2022 is filled with the power of His love. ๐งก๐</div>Michellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06234024914591999911noreply@blogger.com0