tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26237390580904764832024-02-19T10:57:39.719-05:00The Crystal CodeAn attempt to decipherCrystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-36383574732929779362009-12-28T17:55:00.004-05:002009-12-28T20:03:39.217-05:00silent nighttoday when i was driving down some small street out of fort oglethorpe, georgia, i was humbled by a stranger. he was walking towards me on the same side the road and had stopped in his tracks. he had taken off his camouflage ball cap that matched his camouflage shirt and pants and had covered his heart with it. his head was bowed. he didn't know me and he didn't know my family. but despite not knowing us, he was still in some way acknowledging my aunt who was four cars in front of me. i like to think that he was saying a prayer for her and maybe even for the rest of us. we all needed a few because none of us wanted to be driving down that road to bury her. <div><br /></div><div>christmas 2009. it'll be a day none of us will ever forget. after my little family woke up and had a wonderful celebration tearing into all of the treasures santa had left, we went to my mother's house for her annual dinner. my kids and i walked up to the porch and in good christmas fashion, i started singing silent night while we waited for the door to open. ya know, we were mimicking carolers. my step-father opened the door and just stood there without chiming in on the song shaking his head no. he said it's not good. what's not good? vicki. vicki has been in an accident. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">vicki is my mother's sister. she's my mom's baby sister. she has always been a beautiful girl with wonderful blond hair and legs a mile long. some of my first memories of my aunt vicki are of being at her home in hattiesburg, mississippi and lounging by the pool while watching days of our lives. even though i wasn't old enough, she let me watch it with her. but that was her. she just treated everyone with respect . . . even bratty little kids she treated as a peer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">what do you mean she's been in an accident? she's okay right? no, she's not okay. he shut the door behind me. well, she's alive though, right? no. no, she's not. at that moment, i had that feeling where your heart seems as if it's literally been punched. it makes it hard to breathe. i took my heavy chest into my mother's room where she was standing with my brother. she looked like a child. they had just found out moments before we arrived. she still had the phone in her hand. she was so confused. she looked at us and said, i don't know what to do. what do i do? it's a hard moment when your mother, the one who is always there to tell you what to do when you are lost and scared, is the one looking to you for answers. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">aunt vicki had a best friend joanie. they talked on the phone at least once a day during their lunch breaks or on their way home from work. they talked on the phone because they didn't get to see each other too often since vicki lived here in tennessee and joanie lived in mississippi. but this christmas, vicki was going to go spend some time with her best pal. so she got up christmas morning, told her husband, randy, goodbye and started her long drive to mississippi. she drove about 2 1/2 hours before something went terribly wrong and she was killed in an accident. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">somehow at some point in the evening at mom's, the rest of us managed to eat some food. the set dining room wasn't stepped into as we were all sort of just standing around looking at my mother and trying to console her with the plates in our hands. then in the best spirit we could pretend to have, we let the kids open their presents. the only extra gifts that night were from my aunt vicki. she had dropped them off the day before. it was heartbreaking to hear my 10 year old read his card out loud that was signed aunt vicki and uncle randy. the rest of the night, we just spent trying to figure out who to call, what would be done, where we go the next day, etc. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">when saturday morning came, jeff came by to pick up the kids and i immediately went to see my baby cousin who had just lost his mother.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">eric. eric is a neat young man. he's no longer a baby. he's 27 in fact. but i still see the sweet little 5 year old every time i look at his face. he's an only child. his parents split up when he was younger and he and his mom moved to tennessee. when they first came back, they lived with us for a while. i loved having them there. i was a busy young girl with stuff to do, but it was so great having another kid in the house and another dog around. of course all mama's love their children, but it became obvious to me then that those two were something else. those two were as close as a boy and his mom could be. they had a bond like you can't imagine. it was very clear that god put those two together. they were just meant to walk on this earth beside one another. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">he came outside to my car standing tall and stellar. we hugged and he was okay. he was definitely holding it together. i had known for some time that he had grown up to be smart and spiritual, but i had no idea that i'd be greeted by such a strong man. i was so proud of him and so sad for him at the same time. we talked for a while and he only teared up once. his girlfriend was there and so after our visit i left him in her good care to go check on my mom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">mom. my mom's parents are no longer alive. we have a really small family and my aunt vicki was all she had left. they were friends. they finished each other's sentences. and the one true thing about their relationship was that they had each other's backs. boy did they have each other's backs!!! mess with one of them. just try. see how that works out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">she was at my uncle randy's mom's house.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">uncle randy. uncle randy came into our lives many many years ago when he married my aunt vicki. he's always been as kind as can be, just like her. they have both always been more than generous to every single soul. he has a tremendous heart that only matches hers and their love was something you could see beaming between each other. when i saw him, he also looked child like. it's just so hard to see grown people hurting in such a confused way. he had just lost the love of his life. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my step-dad and i forced them to eat before they went to make arrangements for today's service. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and then today came too soon. today wasn't suppose to happen. not yet. it just wasn't the right time to be driving down that road while my aunt rode in a box four cars ahead of me. she had always been just such a strong roll model for me. the women in that family are tough. her, my mom, their mom . . .all tough cookies. they each had been dealt some pretty interesting cards in their lives and they each made a winning hand out of them all. so i looked up to to her. and just like her and my mother did for each other, my aunt vicki had my back. she also had my best interest in mind. in college, she wrote my some very poignant letters that helped me out of some pretty dark times. she had been there and she loved me and she helped pull me out of there with her simple, graceful words of hope and strength. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so after we made that drive out of fort oglethorpe and passed the sweet soul that payed my aunt some respect, we reached a hill where her body will lie. my step-dad hauntingly played amazing grace on harmonica while the brisk wind blew through us each and my heart fell apart watching my mom, eric, joanie, and uncle randy say good bye to their best friend. she was a best friend to them all. i imagine she would say that she was also a pretty lucky lady to have been blessed with those best friends. some of us go a whole lifetime with only one such treasure if even one. but she had a few. and they had her. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">tonight .. . .this silent night . . . .as my heart is breaking for my family, i'm grateful for the kind man on the side of the road. and i'm grateful for his reminder that it is only a simple gesture that we often need to feel love. make a kind gesture in honor of my aunt vicki's friendly heart. make a kind gesture to a stranger and friends and family. and if there is someone that you keep thinking you'll call next week, do it today. love them today. </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-2605996876960741412009-12-17T12:07:00.008-05:002009-12-17T13:13:32.114-05:00settin it free<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><br />it's been so hard to think about blogging lately. well, thinking about it hasn't been hard, but bringing myself to do it has seemed like a daunting task. the reason the crystal code has seemed like such a difficult place where i haven't felt like visiting lately is because i have been through so many changes over the last few months and i really hate admitting to the world how flawed i am. most of you that know me, don't really know me. it has taken my friends sometimes years to even begin to get an insight as to what kind of person i really am. i just grew up in an incredibly private family and we always kept our cards close to our chest. we all still do for the most part. my parents will have been moved into a new home for several weeks before i even know that they've left their old one. my brother had brought his baby girl home before we even knew that an adoption had gone through. i think we kids were never taught to be that way, but it was just understood that it was easier to not tell everyone your business. that way, if something doesn't work out, no one has to know. and plus, there are so many snakes out in the world, you never know who might use your information against you. so, i've been hiding under the proverbial rock afraid to admit to the world something really simple. i am going through a divorce. there, i said it. and the crazy part is that half of or most of you already know. and when i told all of you, a great weight was lifted off of my shoulders. there is something so freeing about being honest and showing your true colors. i don't know why i've been afraid to just write it here on the public blog, but i guess it's just out of fear of disappointing the people i know. and it's true that when you start telling people who you really are, when you show them your authentic self, half of the people won't like it. and that happened to me almost immediately. i lost so many connections with people. at first, it almost angered me because i was still me, i just wasn't a part of that couple any more. and part of it, i understand. i mean, the couples' dinners might make everyone feel a little awkward with just one single chic at the table. so that was fine . . .i'm not in a couple, so i don't get to go to couples' events . . . .even the ones at church. but then there were friends that just couldn't really relate to me anyone because they were still trucking along in their normal life and then here comes this weirdo, that used to appear normal, with all sorts of shit suddenly out of balance and upside down. so my phone stopped ringing and the invitations were cut. that was a really sad moment when i realized that people didn't like me for me, but for my place in the world . ..as a wife. and as usual i will defend those people by saying that everyone was in shock when we told them that jeff was moving out. just like everything else, no one knew what was happening in our marriage. so in their defense, i'm going to assume that maybe some of those people just didn't know how to deal with our news because they didn't understand it.<div><div>but the beauty of losing some, is that you get to find out who the real gems are in your life because the ones that don't leave, the ones that stick around despite your bearing of true colors are the only ones that matter anyway. so that realization quickly made me feel stronger and happier! i mean how many of you are lucky enough to find out who your true friends are? that's a real blessing. and when you start saying outloud your truth . . . i<i>'m going through a divorce. my marriage didn't last forever. . . . </i>your steps become lighter and life becomes sunnier. there's nothing better than setting your truth free. </div><div><br /></div><div>so blog readers, i'm back. i'll be giving you all sorts of dirty laundry! i hope that you like it. and i hope that you'll still like me! because this is me . . .i'm a woman that is flawed . . .but i am true and authentic . . .i have a heart of gold and will open it up honestly for you to see. </div><div><br /></div><div>xox,</div><div>c</div></div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-18865147590879221902009-09-10T12:21:00.002-04:002009-09-10T13:27:46.597-04:00Grace-Full<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAly2j0A5IwrWzwx4MzAsjzuf775oTAy_KDET6gaVyyMYFlF02jTS5cFlnguMtbBPKfAEqC9OqjHCe6JYsCkRryIoQle_2cxGMBCZ4Stk3iHD8dk8hX3AkZIL6T-dgujM1UOPUwhuKFM/s1600-h/IMG_5477.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAly2j0A5IwrWzwx4MzAsjzuf775oTAy_KDET6gaVyyMYFlF02jTS5cFlnguMtbBPKfAEqC9OqjHCe6JYsCkRryIoQle_2cxGMBCZ4Stk3iHD8dk8hX3AkZIL6T-dgujM1UOPUwhuKFM/s320/IMG_5477.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379891583641132194" /></a><br />Saving Grace.<div><br /></div><div>We hear that so often. It's a movie. It's a tv show. It's a song. It's the title of many books. It's the name of countless organizations. Google "saving grace" and you'll find all sorts of websites with variations of the term. In our society, we mostly use the expression to talk about one's redeeming qualities. For example: Her saving grace when she passes out from drinking has always been her ability to keep her panties on. And if I am remembering what I learned in Catholic schools correctly, Grace in the Church is what God grants us in order to be free from all of our sins. It is also a state of God, if I'm not mistaken. We all sin. We all have darkness. But we also all have grace. We all have God in us. So, no matter what your demons are, grace is always there . . .. God is always there . . . in each of us . . ..to free us . . . so that no matter what, we are still good. We are full of Grace. It's saving us.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love this idea of it always being around to save us. Perhaps it's because I'm so terribly flawed. I did, in fact, grow up thinking that the Rolling Stones were referring to me when they sang, "graceless lady." And maybe it's my own flaws that have allowed me to easily find other people's saving graces. Give me the most horrible person that you can find, and I'll point out a good quality. I might point out several. The difference between the "good" qualities that I find and the goodness that the universe/God/yourself/Love might find, is that the ones I discover might not be profound enough to redeem one. However, the qualities God sees are enough to allow you to be forgiven. Does this make sense? For example, give me a murderer. You paint the picture as it doesn't really matter since all murderers are bad. I can find value in his artwork or in the gardens that he grows or in his ability to nurture his three cats. This person isn't completely horrible. So, you might agree that the killer has some value, but that value isn't enough to redeem him of his unimaginable behavior. God's Love (or the universe's Love or the Love that is just residing in you or whatever you chose to call it) . . .his Grace . . .is enough to matter. So even this terrible person can receive Grace and be forgiven. He can still bathe in the God/Love/Grace that is each of ours. It can save him.</div><div><br /></div><div>It saddens me that we don't make lists of our saving graces. Instead, we are constantly reminding ourselves of our faults . . .which is maybe the opposite of Grace? Maybe the opposite of grace isn't the actual bad behavior, but the act of dwelling on it or pointing it out. It seems that if this were the case, that dwelling would be the most upsetting thing we could do to our creator . . .since he is only offering us a state of Grace (forgiveness/love/him). So, I'm thinking today that we need to change the dialogue. Maybe just today we can focus on our own and each other's good parts. Let the bashing slide on past you. Only invite Grace in today. Only give out Grace. Bathe in the Saving Grace.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-64147188480081826692009-07-28T16:35:00.004-04:002009-07-28T18:01:11.017-04:00Digging Graves at Midnight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY4-eCBO34afHCoh2UDN4_BpZwqXMJIcLovLiYfrpzp_ARZ4VsDsgtVh5d9oF74etZyk_MFxKCZszqRMpY2dOwoYh85F1D5iEoepT_Exkg7ZswrSfb46bqDf8kNfvy96n2HE8XfHohAA/s1600-h/Family+%26+Friends+2007+032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyY4-eCBO34afHCoh2UDN4_BpZwqXMJIcLovLiYfrpzp_ARZ4VsDsgtVh5d9oF74etZyk_MFxKCZszqRMpY2dOwoYh85F1D5iEoepT_Exkg7ZswrSfb46bqDf8kNfvy96n2HE8XfHohAA/s320/Family+%26+Friends+2007+032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363633556081603890" /></a><br />My girl died last night. Sweet Madde. She was my pretty princess. <div><br /></div><div>Fourteen years ago this past June, my boyfriend Bob and I went to the Humane Society to pick out a new puppy for me. She was in the first kennel that I came to. She was the first puppy that I held that day. Gosh, she was so awkward looking. She was tiny. She could fit in my hand and her ears were bigger than the rest of her body and stood straight up. There were about 5 or so other puppies in that room with her, but she was the last of her litter and the runt according to the volunteers there. She looked like the runt of the whole pound, not just her litter, and she stood in the far back right corner like she knew her place in the world. She probably didn't have any hope. At least she looked that way. Puppy eyes. Big, brown hopeless puppy eyes. But with those eyes she saw me. If you've ever picked out an animal from a shelter, you know what I mean by this. Sometimes animals see you and you see them. You just know that you were meant to be together. I knew it with her. It was love at first site. Love. I gave her hope. I know I gave her hope because I put her down and continued through the whole puppy section holding every little baby there. Then I worked my way back down the aisle holding them all a second time until I reached the beginning and came to her again. This time though, she barked incessantly. She was screaming at me. "Hello! It's me! Don't screw up the ways of the world! I was put here for you! It's me! I'm yours!" So I picked her up and took her home. From then on, she rode shotgun with me. </div><div>I can't possibly begin to go through the ins and outs of our relationship or to document the adventures we shared. We've had so many special moments. But I'll just sum it up by saying that together, we've been to every corner of this country, floated down raging rivers, held summer jobs, pissed off roommates, seen countless loves come and go, brought in many other animals, started the process of raising little boys, and dealt with sickness like no others could. She has always been a trooper and lived a great life. And she was always, always been free to roam. The freedom wasn't probably the safest, but she was the kind of girl that needed wide open spaces and knowing that she had that comforts me today.</div><div>For the last couple of years, she has been slow going. She didn't run anymore. She never roamed off anymore. And she went completely blind two years ago. She never really seemed to mind though. She stayed happy. She had bad arthritis so in the past year especially, she spent a lot of time napping. She spent so much time napping that for the past 12 months, I've at some point in each day checked to see if she was still breathing. The last two months have been especially trying for her. It's also been tough on me. She lost control of eliminating herself and that made for a ton of frustration. I have had to clean up poop and pee messes at least 4 times a day . . . and it was the terrible, terrible kind. It got so bad, that I've had to put her in the garage every time I left even if it's just for 10 minutes. And even that was an ordeal because she couldn't see to go around outside to the garage and her arthritis was too bad to walk down the stairs to get there, so I had to carry her down the stairs every time. And she wasn't a small dog by any means. Talking to the vet, it seemed as if she was suffering from dementia too so we took her in a month ago to see if it "was time." I had gone through forever thinking I could never make that sort of decision, but she seemed to be living such a half-ass life that I thought we should at least get a professional opinion. Getting to the point of just going to see was an extremely hard day. Jeff took her. We had decided that if they thought it was a good idea, that we'd bring the boys in and we'd all say goodbye. My 9 year old sat in my arms the whole time they were gone and we cried and cried. Then Jeff showed back up with Madde and told us that the vet thought that she had two good years left in her. . . .he couldn't believe how happy and vibrant she still was. But that was my girl. Even throughout all of her suffering, she could always crack a smile. She was so sweet. Of course then I felt horrible! I had never been able to do that and when I had finally come to "maybe" terms, I was told that it wasn't time! So we both kept on. We have both struggled for a while. I've had countless friends tell me that I must really love her .. .. that's how difficult it has been. But I couldn't imagine not having done it for her. She had always been such a treasure for me.</div><div>And I have to think that I was her treasure too. I had been gone for four days and she waited until I got home to say hello . . .or maybe goodbye . . . before she wandered off for one last romp on her own. She didn't make it far. I found her about three houses down resting in the neighbor's driveway. It was terrible. I was a pathetic mess. I got so angry. It just made me so mad. The image of her sweet little body in the ground will be one that I will never be able to get out of my head. I went to bed and dreamed that she wasn't really dead, but instead just resting like all of those other times that I thought she wasn't breathing, and she dug her way out of her grave. But she was still under the dirt this morning. And I'm still in bed this evening. My heart aches. I keep waiting for her to show up at the back door. I know she's gone, but I just don't think I am ready to accept it. I want her back. </div><div><br /></div><div>Madde, you were a gift. You brought me more joy than you will ever know. You were my first. You were my other half. I feel lost without you today. But I know that you were tired. And I want you to rest. I will miss you pretty girl. I love you.</div><div> </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-60843991165626461092009-07-16T11:53:00.004-04:002009-07-16T12:11:11.076-04:00It's Easy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5DV6rmFn6_3xv_JM6LylGj5-Nd7F258lJsQW0PazXU49e3mIruISsZJB5-yXdo71WUB-53ZjpoDkpktJQVOsQ3R_IXr3Hn5L4Cc4_iejRfXwnQupqg_PhVpHnDLsFOaesVTJWtgFA18/s1600-h/IMG_4972.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5DV6rmFn6_3xv_JM6LylGj5-Nd7F258lJsQW0PazXU49e3mIruISsZJB5-yXdo71WUB-53ZjpoDkpktJQVOsQ3R_IXr3Hn5L4Cc4_iejRfXwnQupqg_PhVpHnDLsFOaesVTJWtgFA18/s320/IMG_4972.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359091204751812802" /></a><br />I've decided that I'm not going to go through all of the particular things women want. There are just too many little things that I could go on and on about and it would be never ending. And also I had a well-meaning male friend tell me that guys don't really care what women want. But let me sum it up quickly, just in case you (the one male reader that I might have) are hanging on the edge of your seat: We are simple creatures. Whatever man decided to spread the rumor that we are complicated just did that to get himself and all of the others off of the hook for their stupid behavior. . . .How was I to know when you're so complicated? The only thing really required of you is to appreciate how wonderful we are. To be validated. Just like you men, that's all we need. Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-27369599709951527432009-06-24T10:14:00.004-04:002009-06-24T11:07:12.598-04:00Our Simple Rules for Loving WomenI'm sitting here enjoying McDonald's coffee with my Jen Thal. I hate McDonald's and all of their fillers, but they make the greatest cup of black coffee and it goes especially well with our problem solving that we love to do in the morning. <div style="text-align: center;">Today's topic is: What Women Want</div><div style="text-align: center;">(Jen thinks I should let you know that we're not talking about the Mel Gibson movie.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We stumbled upon this subject because our mutual friend recently received two tickets to a beach in Mexico from her man, but she was a little ungrateful because it had taken 10 years of begging and pleading and one good night of crying in order to prompt her man to run down to the travel agency and purchase said tickets and he hadn't just done the romantic deed on his own. I told her that men don't know. They really need specific instructions. So we are helping you . Your lady doesn't want to tell you to plan a trip, she wants you to do it on your own. So rule number one (these are in no specific order because we will post more important rules in the following segments) is: Women want two tickets to paradise given to them as a surprise because you are so romantic that you just know how to do that kind of stuff. We will love you for it and pack quickly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Also, we just want to have fun. This fun can translate into many things, but for our purposes, we'll be a little specific. If we're at a party and need to shake it and you don't want to shake it with us, we're still gonna shake it. You can watch if you want. Don't poop on our party. What would be even cooler is if you could take us out dancing despite the fact that you might not really want to join us! This will work in your favor. And again, in reference to the first rule, if you want to really wow us, make that dancing date a surprise. So rule number two is: Girls just want to have fun and we would love it if you'd join us.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">More rules to come in the following days.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ladies, what do you think? We have a running list, but would love to hear your desires . . .your desires through song.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-42734571790121808112009-06-22T11:21:00.007-04:002009-06-22T12:28:10.927-04:00togethernessso after that, we dated and things moved quickly in our relationship. in fact, he moved in with me within 6 months. i had moved out of the hawkins street house and into my very own teeny tiny one-bedroom apartment. there was barely any room to turn around in it, but i loved it. it was mine. i had always had roommates and was eager to have things go specifically how i intended. for instance, if i emptied the trash can, it would still be empty when i came home from class. or when bought a carton of orange juice, but didn't want to drink it for a week, it would still be unopened when i finally decided to take the vitamin c plunge. i loved living on my own. it was simple. just me and my madde. <div><br /></div><div>then, he proposed to me. it was an especially unromantic moment on our way back to murfreesboro after a visit with the family in chattanooga. he pulled right over in a dentist's office parking lot as the sun was going down and presented me with the most beautiful ring i had ever seen. despite the proposal, the ring <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">was </span>romantic. his mom had given him her first set of wedding bands to give to me. (she had moved up in the world of diamonds . . . on to bigger and better things.) i never saw what those rings looked like, but apparently they were not my style. so, he took the rings to a jeweler where he saw a beautiful antique engagement ring in the window and asked the guy if he could melt his mom's rings and place the diamonds in a setting that perfectly mimicked the antique. the story goes that it took the jeweler several times before it finally came out correctly. but when he finally achieved the goal, the result was stunning. i had never owned a real diamond and suddenly i had this nice big one amongst several tiny ones sitting right there on my finger. i said yes and didn't take my eyes off of my hand for at least a week straight.</div><div><br /></div><div>after that, we figured it was okay to live in sin because we were engaged and in our hearts, we were already married. we just lacked the piece of paper. plus we were spending so much time together, that it made sense economically to just narrow our lives down to one place. we told our mothers and they hated this idea, but my mom didn't go too crazy as i agreed to at least graduate from college before i took my vows. so, this was sort of a compromise. it was really full speed ahead at that point. </div><div><br /></div><div>in our full speed couple life, we sat down to have a slow moment and watch the history channel one night and some band-of-brothers type show came on about vietnam or world war two and the continuous theme was camaraderie between the men. i admit, it was really cool to hear those guys talk about each other like they were family. they had experienced something together that no one else could ever understand. anyway, jeff turned to me and said, i think i'll join the military. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">SCREEEEEEECH! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">someone must've pulled the needle off of the record, because i swear i just heard my fiance tell me that he wants to join the military! say what? let me preface this whole thing by saying that i had already picked up my peace corps application and was giving serious thought to applying after i received my degree . . .in sociology and anthropology and women's studies because i was a peace-corps joining kind of lady . . . .the kind that studied anthropology because it was going to be super cool to travel the world and hang out with various natives of various lands while digging trenches so that they could have a clean water supply! and now you, my disheveled hippyesque fiance, you want to grab a gun and go to war? this caused quite an uproar! and his mother . . .oh god bless her! if you think having your 20 year old baby move into a cramped apartment with a lady 3 years older than him upset her, you can imagine what the thought of this did for her nerves. she cried and cried and was so worried that he'd get hurt or die or ruin his life. but he didn't care what we wanted. he went the very next day to the army recruitment office and somehow the air force got a hold of him and within less than two months, i finished school and we were packing up the smallest uhaul we could find and moving to texas where he would do his tech-school training. i had come around and gotten on board with the whole idea because the recruiter kept telling me over and over that we could travel the world.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>so, we got to texas. wichita falls, tx . . .one of the craziest places i've ever been. he was set to leave for 7ish weeks of basic training, but after that, he'd live in wichita falls for a few months for his school. the idea was that it would be nice for me to be in one set place for 6 months instead of 2 months at home with the folks and then 3 or 4 with him before our first assignment. we had two weeks of togetherness in texas before he took the train to san antonio. in that two weeks, we rented an apartment, i found a job, jeff turned 21, and in our full-on fashion . . .in less than a year after we had met, we ran over to the courthouse and got married.</div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-18715152909445015102009-05-24T17:53:00.015-04:002009-05-24T19:22:10.298-04:00How We MetWe met my during my last year of college. I was super busy. I had a huge schedule with a maximum load of school hours, worked full time slinging drinks at a bar until all hours of the night, and was also working with 11 other women to create a state-wide women's leadership conference. I was really too busy to be involved with someone. It was in that bar that I spotted Jeff one afternoon playing pool with my friend Lew. They had just moved into town. He was really handsome. He was disheveled handsome. He had on long jeans, a dirty shirt, and his hair was all a mess curling up around his big, blue eyes. He was pretty. And he was hot. He turned heads. Nothing major happened that day. We just said hi. And in fact, that day was so uneventful that he doesn't even remember meeting me so I obviously didn't make a significant impression on him. <div>He actually has a totally different story. He says we met at my house one night. Maybe I just looked prettier that night than I did in my working-girl mode at that bar and that's when he actually saw me. I lived with a couple of boys on Hawkins Street in Murfreesboro where there was never a dull moment. We were having a party one evening celebrating nothing, I'm sure. I remember walking through the kitchen towards the door that was opened up to the back yard. I can still see it clearly. There were several people sitting outside sort of circled around each other. Jeff was sitting on the side of the circle that positioned him so I could see his face while walking towards the door. He was just as stunning as before. But this time, he saw me. And I could feel him seeing me. I'm sure I blushed as I went on about my way to enjoy the good times. But I don't think he stopped watching me. One of my roommate's girlfriends cornered me inside later and told me that Jeff thought I was beautiful. So that did it. I flirted. With my eyes. I don't think I really even talked to him too much. But we both knew. So the night ended and that was that. Until he called. He called!!!! Well, he didn't really call <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">me, </span>but he called. I had just gotten back from a camping trip and hadn't showered in 3 or 4 days and I was raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanky nasty. He was calling the house to see if anyone wanted to go hang out for a bit . . .you know, like called to see if "the guys" wanted to hang out. But they were gone!!!! Yippy! I don't know where they were, but they were gone and everyone else that Jeff knew was unavailable to hang out too, so out of sheer boredom and the need to have a little conversation that Sunday afternoon, he gave in to his only available option: Me!!! I went to hang out all stinky and smelling like a campfire and with all sorts of leaves dangling from my wild hair. I went as I was and he liked it. Again it was playful and innocent and nothing major happened except that it set the stage for it to keep happening. He would keep calling. One night, he called to see if I was going to a friend's party and when I told him that I couldn't because I was studying until 11ish, he said that he'd leave the party and come get me then. Thinking about it now, I see possible motivations on his part to come get me that I didn't see then and the waiting to get me is probably not really that big of a deal. But at the time, it just seemed so considerate. It seemed so nice that at 6:00, he decided he would wait to see me so that I could study. Most guys would have either tried to talk me out of staying in or found an alternative girl to spend the evening with. But not him. I was too busy. And he waited. </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-57940442561081714752009-05-20T11:52:00.000-04:002009-05-20T11:53:02.285-04:00<div>The whole obsession and chasing of beauty baffles me. It seems that everyone I know is really unhappy with their physical looks. And at least half of them . . . more really . . . have undergone surgery to correct something that feels wrong. Don't get me wrong, I have many, many moments where I am unhappy with my looks. For instance, the other day I was looking through a friend's photos from a night when we went out to dinner. Instead of remembering how incredibly perfect my seared halibut over chickpea stew was or how the laughter we shared was more than perfect, I thought, well, there's the 15 pounds put on during the last year. It was right there. But at least I can pretend that the concern over the 15 pounds is about health, not beauty . . . .Right? All of this is swirling around in my head in part because I read segments of a Patricia Arquette interview. I love her. I've always loved her because she has this sense of herself that isn't always seen in Hollywood. She seems to have an I-make-no-bones-about-myself way. She just is who she is. She has curves and those look better than most of her shapeless counterparts. In the interview, she explains that she didn't feel like straightening her teeth for other people that said, "Oh you're so pretty. You should have your teeth straightened." I love this. I can relate so much. I wouldn't do braces even after someone in high school referred to me as Bugs Bunny. In college, my mom called saying, "This is your last chance. The dental plan only covers braces until you turn 18." No way! This is me, mom. This is who I am. They work. I regretted that as I got older, but have come back around to embracing them in the last year or so. I also didn't do makeup for a long time. I took the plunge into powder and gloss the last year at MTSU and finally a full-face after getting married. Today, I can barely leave home without said face and have often thought that if I were stranded on a desert island, I'd at least want mascara. But honestly, sometimes on a good day when I'm really hydrated and exfoliated, I think my face looks best in its natural state. I could go on and on with my love-hate relationship with my looks, but mostly, I'm ok with it . . . .at least ok enough to not have major surgery to change things. And there is plenty that could be changed. My nose is too big, my belly needs tucked, things need to be lifted, reduced, etc.. But what is the point? Are people really so unhappy with themselves? What's wrong with looking like yourself? Why do you need your bustline to be so many inches and your hair a different color and parts of your face to remain immobile? What is it about changing these things that makes your life so much better? If Kanye West's mom knew the alternative to dying would have been to live with her ugly parts, would she have accepted herself? I've only found 3-4 white hairs on my head, but I really want to embrace the whiteness when it comes. I imagine being like Bonnie Raitt with her super-power streaks. But who knows, maybe when it comes in all gray and ugly instead of snow white and beautiful, I'll break out some dye. But I like to imagine that I'll keep to my same ways and be ok with myself. We'll see!<br /><div></div></div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-22870668945626298752009-05-13T15:07:00.007-04:002009-05-14T08:19:50.392-04:00i can't type with bracelets on<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZMktg4l2RVRj60A0H7frWotpFB70A6BZNmYKKSyOWdfM_AyPkTRHsYeb41ABjqDX0K09NHznLND-toNmf18RO4ueryPdUwlK59eEsy3rc0eTPx1jcEGhkEw5aNfgqDWILymDKk-0wyXU/s1600-h/DSCN0001.JPG"><span><span></span></span><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZMktg4l2RVRj60A0H7frWotpFB70A6BZNmYKKSyOWdfM_AyPkTRHsYeb41ABjqDX0K09NHznLND-toNmf18RO4ueryPdUwlK59eEsy3rc0eTPx1jcEGhkEw5aNfgqDWILymDKk-0wyXU/s320/DSCN0001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335391781406030802" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>i think i'll stop updating on caringbridge. <div>i know people want to know what's going on with jeff. they care. but i just get so tired of running there every time he sneezes. and it's always the sneezes that seem to be the big issues. i want to let everyone know, but really, it's always the same. </div><div style="text-align: center;">jeff doesn't feel well,<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">having some tests,</div><div style="text-align: center;">could be this, could be that,</div><div style="text-align: center;">oh my gosh, this is looking serious, but probably ok,</div><div style="text-align: center;">waiting on tests,</div><div style="text-align: center;">yay, he's fine, thank goodness!</div><div style="text-align: center;">it was just a cold</div><div style="text-align: center;">we knew he would be</div><div style="text-align: center;">thanks for the prayers.</div><div style="text-align: left;">that's how it goes. rejection can present itself in a number of ways and every typical fluke in your body resembles rejection. tummy aches, head aches, colds, fever, tiredness, etc. . . .all of those are signs of rejection. so anytime he experiences any symptom for more than a day or so, he has to call in. more than half of the time, they have him come in for tests. today is one of those days. he'll be fine. in fact, i'm so confident that he'll be fine, there is no need to update caringbridge. he'll be back on his toes like nothing ever happened before we know it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-2081097327077995882009-05-03T13:06:00.003-04:002009-05-03T13:47:05.233-04:00So, I haven't done well with my writing. Actually, I just haven't done any writing. There was a minor health set-back at the end of January and I'm just now back on my toes. Jeff also had a bit of a health issue and we spent a couple of months taking care of that. He got new job, but when he had to go back to UAB to see the doctors for said ailments after just three days at the new place, they had to give him the boot too. I had a brief moment at a kid's birthday party when Jeff called on the way home from the hospital telling me that he had just hung up with the new place. They knew he would have doctors' visits every few month, but they had know idea how soon this would happen. They needed someone more reliable which seems to be a continuing theme in his job history. So, I had a brief moment at this birthday party where I had to run to a corner and spew tears. I traded my angry disposition I had at the first job-loss of 2009 for a softer, sadder look. Actually, it was probably more pathetic than sad. And it was more jolting than soft. It sucked because the mom of the kid . .which it was also her other child's first communion party. . . the mom of the kids . . . happened to walk by this corner. It was one of those moments where the more you fight it, the harder it comes. My man had been out of town for days in the hospital and they were doing spinal taps and all sorts of stuff on him and we had no idea what was going on. And I was trying to be good mom and continue about my day at the birthday party and give her a big ol' arm swing and, "great party!" But with the stupid news of him losing another job, I just couldn't help it. I was so sad. I was sad for him. I was sad and standing in this corner and it all came out. I know I must have looked a wreck, but I was thinking that maybe no one else could really see what Oprah calls the ugly cry as long as I stood in the corner and pretended to look outside for a minute. But she did. Sweet lady. She's a gentle person. She placed both hands on my shoulders without asking what had happened and said, "You've earned your right to cry. You're too young to have dealt with the stuff you have. You've been given more than most people get in their entire lives. Just cry." Of course, it was unstoppable at that point. Here I was, at her party for her two kids celebrating their days and having her take care of me. I felt so stupid. I also felt relieved quickly. It was finally giving in. And that's refreshing. Anyone that's ever had extra stuff to carry around will tell you that it always happens at the wrong place. And it's always something small that sends you over the edge. I had already been strong through all that mattered and now it was this tiny thing, a job, that was getting me all bent out of shape. And for those of you who know me, a job isn't where I place value. Of course, we like to eat, but considering everything else, this was nothing. You know, you handle all the big stuff and then lose it when your pencil breaks or you realize that you're out of dog food. That's what happened. I'm fine now. Jeff still has no job, but we'll continue to be fine. We are somehow lucky like that. But considering that day, I just want everyone to give into their sadness or anger or fears or happiness or loneliness or whatever. A friend once told me, they are just feelings. It doesn't matter. They're just there. Who cares? Stop beating yourself up for them. Give in to them! Cry at a birthday party if you have to. Cry for five minutes, get it out of your system and then move on to joy or whatever else sneaks up on you! You'll somehow sit in more happiness if you do this. <div>Peace and Love, Crystal</div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-53705149297514646612009-01-16T12:16:00.005-05:002009-01-16T13:22:00.146-05:00Some Unemployment Offices Have Even Laid Off EmployeesWell, my husband called from his cell phone three times in a row this morning before 11:30 which is his usual lunch break time and the only time that he calls from that phone. I had a sense of uneasiness. I was thinking that maybe something had gone wrong with his lovely new heart. I mean, for almost a year, he's had just a tiny bit of rejection or things that have gone wrong. So, something was bound to happen, right? Yes, something had happened, but it had nothing to do with his new heart. Jeff's company laid off 35 people today and he was one of them. Having had my fair share of trials and tribulations, I immediately went to the place of we'll-be-alright. Because we will. I've always known this. And I especially embraced that notion when we were going through such hard times of sickness. Then, knowing that I get that . . . . that since I know we'll be okay . . . I went to the place of then-why-the-heck-are-we-facing-something-again-that-tests-us? I mean <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">come on!</span>!!! Are you kidding me? I mean, we're already strong. We started off our marriage learning to lean on each other and living in 5 states in 7 1/2 years while having two kids away from our families and we were okay. Jeff was on his way to the Pentagon on 9/11 and when he finally came home after defending the capital . . .. after I had sat there wondering if he was alright. . .. when he finally made it back after wearing night-vision goggles and holding weapons looking over the Potomac River, he was covered in ash and smelled like smoke and we were okay. When anthrax was circulating through our mail system that we shared with the white house, we were scared, but we were okay. When the sniper went through D.C., no one was safe and the places were all completely random and when my child turned three during that, we went off of our base for the first time and literally ran in zig-zag lines through a parking lot to get him his birthday present and we were okay. When Jeff would be gone for weeks on end and I was alone preparing for a hurricane with two small kids, we were okay. When Jeff lost his his Air Force job because of his bad heart, we were okay. When he lost his next job because he was constantly being hospitalized and was an unreliable employ, we were okay. When he had his heart transplant, for crying out loud, we were okay! In fact, we've been more than okay and have laughed about much of it and of course found blessings through it all. I have never asked why. Ever. We've been okay. We've trusted. We've had to let go many, many times and just trust and have the faith that God would take care of us. And that's where I was when he first told me. I was sitting in faith. But now, I'm just really angry. I would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">never</span> dare to ask, "what else?" I know that things could be one hundred times worse and I have those hundreds of different scenarios going through my head that are far worse than losing a measly, little job. But really. I get it, God! I am thankful! I feel blessed! I trust! I've learned to roll with the punches. I've learned to never, ever complain about the weather. I've learned to pick and chose when and with whom I spend time with and not to waste moments on things that don't really move me to happiness. I get it. My kids say prayers thanking God for coats and pillows and healthy bodies. We realize the preciousness of just being here. I'm just not too sure what I'm not getting. Why? I am now asking and wanting to know. Why us? What is it that we need to learn? How much more stress do we deserve? What gives? Why did we have such stupid administrators of this country? I'm so angry right now. I'm sad and frightened. I'm finally not okay.Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-70556202779661487032009-01-04T17:07:00.003-05:002009-01-06T09:07:03.196-05:00ok, i'm feeling a bit pressured. i'm not sure what can be written that anyone would want to read. when i was writing on caringbridge, it was useful information. and if i happened to throw in a little something extra, then so be it. but now, now i'm just feeling so much pressure to have something great show up on the page. and really, what is there to discuss that hasn't already been exploited on blogspot. i remember a friend saying to me once that it was impossible to write anything new . . . a new song, a new story, a new movie, etc.. this really ticked me off. this was an incredibly talented and creative person that sounded so jaded and disenchanted. was there anything new? had all of the loves had been written about? there really have been a gazillion love stories . . . .teenage love, forbidden love, old-age love, pet love, money love, food love, patriotic love, jesus love, self love, and on and on and each of these have been written about in a gazillion different ways. the other day i listened to gillian welch and her "one little song" discusses this very thing:<div><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">"there's gotta be a song left to sing. 'cause everybody can't of thought of everything. one little song that ain't been sung. one little rag that ain't been wrung out completely yet . . .one little word that ain't been abused a thousand times in a thousand rhymes." </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so maybe there is. you would think that waking up for the first time on valentine's day with a new heart, like my husband did, is a pretty unique situation. but then when you really think about it, they've been doing heart transplants for 40 something years, i think, and he can't be the only person during that time to have had his during the love fest. maybe it's rare, but how rare is it? </div><div style="text-align: left;">i don't know. maybe there isn't anything new to say. </div></div></div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-86531054121941188582009-01-01T15:56:00.005-05:002009-01-01T16:06:00.337-05:0009<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Happy New Year!!!</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQ9Y4X7vFTUuSDsQ-U2K87J5SN6CfiyDzgtd55U2gnxifXE6tp6SKrSYX61z585lpD8euSoPXmWBmxl5sKNBgEP2HmSIM4LeUErLsrrGxtYbEFvxByalbNw_aUNeBsXCOjzHKTx5yTZw/s1600-h/IMG_4492.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQ9Y4X7vFTUuSDsQ-U2K87J5SN6CfiyDzgtd55U2gnxifXE6tp6SKrSYX61z585lpD8euSoPXmWBmxl5sKNBgEP2HmSIM4LeUErLsrrGxtYbEFvxByalbNw_aUNeBsXCOjzHKTx5yTZw/s400/IMG_4492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286432466516644354" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">We had more than anyone could imagine to be thankful for in '08!</div><div style="text-align: center;">The resolution that I want all of my friends to keep is simple.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Make today special. Wear your best perfume. Drink the good wine.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't wait. This is your day. </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-61620964683401125872008-12-30T14:36:00.009-05:002008-12-30T16:11:47.801-05:00A new year is right around the corner. For me, New Year's day is also my birthday. So when other people are making their resolutions, I do a total life-evaluation. It has always been a turning point in my life. I always feel like I get to make more of a fresh start than others. The resolution that I always make is: I will write more. <div>So, let's back up and have a little Crystal writing history. I remember loving the creative writing exercises in grade school. My mother still has plenty of material written by her little genius. Those were fun, but one of my favorite memories is writing poetry outside at a really young age. It was all very dramatic . . . . I would sit under the stars, light candles, and tears would literally fall onto the paper as I poured my heart out about the love of my life. If that boy could've seen how much I loved him, the writing probably would've stopped before I turned 11. But he didn't see so the writing continued. I still have plenty of those poems too and some still have wax drippings on them. I continued to write from time to time and felt particularly empowered my senior year of high school when I started receiving the highest grades in English class at my Catholic high school. I would write about the injustices of the world. I think I came out of the womb feeling more intensely than my peers because I was often saddened by so many things and used writing to express those extreme emotions. It was during one of these writing experiences on Animal Cruelty that I stopped eating meat. I wasn't against meat, but I couldn't participate in the meat industry as I knew it. Sixteen years later, I still feel the same. All of this because of writing. By the time college rolled around, I was writing more than ever, but just in journals. On two occasions, I actually read aloud something that I wrote, but only because it was a class requirement. Those two things . . . . each 4 years apart . . . .were so hard to read and they were not that good. Yet, those two things got so much reaction from people. The first was about a friend who died. It was a really simple poem written in seconds. Everyone told me how honest it was and how much they loved it. I had a well-read and well-written boyfriend that really enjoyed it and that was empowering. The second was a little piece on my grandmother and it received the same reaction. So, that was all of the sharing that I ever participated in. The rest of it stayed in the journals. Then my husband got sick and when we found out he needed a heart transplant, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to continue to repeat myself 20 times a day during phone conversations so I started updating on a medical site. People could enter their email address and when something happened, I could type it in and everyone got the info. This all seemed to spiral too. These entries were particularly rushed and mainly just informative, but they also sparked interest. The words I heard repeated over and over to describe my writing were raw, honest, real, emotional. To me this meant that my writing was just simple and that I didn't have enough of a vocabulary to be anything more than raw. But people enjoyed it. Weekly and often daily, someone would approach me or my husband and tell me that I should write. So, here I am. Maybe this will keep me committed to my resolution. I enjoy it. I really don't think any of it is worth reading, but whatever. I'll probably repeat myself from time to time . . . .especially concerning the successful heart transplant my man had last February . . . . that was and continues to be a major source of inspiration. And it probably won't be as touching as the medical site caringbridge was, but this is what I've got. If you're interested, subscribe and stay posted. Oh, and I'll just go ahead and apologize for all of the grammatical errors. I'm sure there are plenty of corrections that need to be made and will continue to be made, but I'm sure I'll barely have time to write . . . .much less have someone smart review this. Cheers! </div><div>Peace and Love, Crystal</div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2623739058090476483.post-90073012498940592942008-12-30T09:25:00.000-05:002008-12-30T09:28:33.529-05:00well, here it is. my first blog. i feel silly putting things on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">internet</span> for complete strangers to read, but the universe has been shouting at me to write for a long time now . . .. .so, here i go. this will be my start. this will be the place where i condition myself and begin training. i will do it everyday just to get in the habit.<div><br /></div><div>happy reading! </div>Crystalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00821994813327025262noreply@blogger.com0