There are strange things a foot at Shea & 32nd

I’ve blogged, and not posted.

Entrepreneur life: the first year you look cute, the second year you look like you may die, and the third year you go nuts and die your hair green.

Life, it seems, has not wanted to play fair.

My 17 year marriage disintegrated in 2015, and the next year royally sucked.  I got the idea I could run a business in 2017, had three near-perfect months in a cottage and fell in love, but life got super hard despite being in love. It was supposed to get better and got much worse, and then much more WORSE and then maybe, just maybe there was hope.  I felt relief for the first time in months, if not years.

Even though I don’t like my weight, and summer asthma means no hiking in the valley in the foreseeable future.

But Giup has been here, and that’s Special :)

When we last left off, the Buckeye was improving.  What I never told all of you is the fact he was fired from his job the day we came home from our mini-moon, four days after our wedding.

He got fired for looking for another job (mind you, never on company time.) His first day back after his wedding he came in to his office to find everything packed in a box, despite in the month prior, he’d secured over a million dollars in new projects for the company. He had, for better or for worse, discovered the company was for sale; quietly, he had updated his LinkedIn, and passed resumes to a few people.  That was considered blasphemous by his boss, and he was shown to the door.  The day he came back from his wedding.

Yes, we know it was a dick move.  That fact has been universally agreed on.  It, however, does not make it any easier to live through.

So when he almost dies three months later, and his recovery has been very slow...add to it all he was unemployed, and had no job to return to.

May you never have to do this.

Between never recovering from 2018 being a hard year from March onward (with just four days respite when I got married and had two days by a pool in Vegas) I really struggled in early 2019.  I had been forced to chose between caring for my husband and opening Ride in Scottsdale; I chose my husband, of course.  Which meant I also put my entire company in jeopardy, and greatly limited my income-our only income.

The weeks ticked by, and I began working the Prescott season as early as I could.  The 200 mile commute added weariness to my already floundering spirit; despite the Buckeye getting a job.  Somehow he had aced an interview in January, despite the headaches and slowness of his body.  He started in March, and mentally, as of today, I’d say he’s 90% returned to normal.  Physically? About 75%. Still a ways to go, in several areas.

Did I mention the Buckeye and Kyle, my original Ride business partner, have become bff’s?  

I came to realize I greatly underestimated my need to be in Prescott, and accepted an offer from Jesus to help.

Literally.

Jesus has taken the wheel.

Meet our driver, Jesus.  Yes, it’s his legal name.

With Jesus’ help, I felt a weight lifted.  We would have a successful season in Prescott, as we teamed up for him to be my legs.  That’s allowed me to look at the bigger picture-and take a breath.

It really is going to be ok.

Supposedly, I can sleep on a plane using the device pictured here....?!

I’ve prayed for direction, and have found this scripture to be true:

Jesus was especially appropriate and well-timed help!

So as the Buckeye gets stronger, and Ride gets more focused, I find myself more than just relieved.

Feeling cute, might start a revolution later.

It’s been growing in my belly I should start exercising again.

Like literally growing:  I’m putting on weight in my belly.  

The young Marine is the Buckeye’s ex-wife’s son, who he still proudly calls his stepson. The Buckeye is a former marine, and it’s unsurprising his former stepsons still look up to him.  It was also not surprising that my son, Manchild, has also decided he wants to be a marine.

Manchild. 18 and works 40+ hour weeks installing fencing in 110° heat since graduating in May.

He was a lineman in football, and has lost 30+ lbs on his own since the season ended.  He’s almost there to join...and has about 20 more to take off before boot camp this fall.  Given he does 8-10 hours in the heat, running outside to lose the extra weight would be a lot.

So I offered to join a local gym, and walk on the treadmill beside the one he jogged on.

This is how my men treated the news of me joining a gym....😂😂😂😂

I really don’t want to...but I know I should...but I really don’t want to...

Restart my fitness quest.

So today, I pulled on super tight workout clothes that still barely fit...

And walked into a gym.

Good lord.  It’s green and purple.

And it’s in a shopping plaza by the house...

Soooooo....

I was required to have a fitness assessment.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😳😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

My body fat?

Care to guess??

33.2%

Actually, I was not in anyway surprised😂

I weigh the same as I did at the beginning of the year.  My four-pound fluctuation is between 175-179lbs.  Last summer, it was between 170-175lbs.

So, it’s time for a change.

Work out clothes. BLAH.

And I ranted and raved and complained...and the trainer, Brad, laughed and thought I was hysterical.

And I kinda enjoyed the fact I knew proper form, and still could hold a plank.  And that while right handed, I almost always started with my left on everything.

And as I did the workout and remembered my three-song workout, my days at Crossfit and my love of classical Pilates, a thought came to me:

What if I was able to learn to run in the air conditioning...and this fall actually be able to run on a trail?

It’s been a bit.

I admit, I miss it...even though I never got good at it.

So.....

The quest.

The actual FITNESS quest.

Where I exercise?

It’s back.

Let’s hope it goes better than this...!

Seeds of Hope

Six years ago this morning, I left a friend’s home in Mission Viejo to drive home to Arizona. I’d never seen the California coast, however...so without a plan, and simply a deep desire to see the ocean, I headed south.  Inexplicably, I discovered the Basilica San Juan Capistrano, and hopped out of my vehicle to take a picture.

Mission Basilica San Juan Capistrano 

Why I got off I-5 in San Juan Capistrano? A brown sign is my guess.  All I knew is I felt a very strong pull to see the ocean, which I later did at Doheny State Park at Dana Point.  

Doheny State Park

I was delighted to find a road by the beach, and took it south until I had to turn east when I hit San Clemente.  I then hopped back on the I-5 and headed home, pondering how I felt.

I knew I would be back.

Only a few times in my life has a place left me with such a pull-Mackinac, Prescott, parts of the Caribbean-and I knew there was a connection.  

Unbeknownst to me, the Buckeye had lived in the area for several years after getting out of the Marines.  His friends still do-and I’ve spent many happy days visiting them there.

San Clemente Pier.

The Princess now lists San Clemente as her top destination to move...and I have dreams of Ride in all these California towns.

It was freezing, but she had to have her beach time!

Six years ago, right now, my marriage was in its darkest days.  Everyday was full of pain; I was exhausted from the constant emotional hurt.  Yet on that morning, I felt pulled to what would be part of my future.  I knew somehow I’d be back; at the time I concluded my then-business would be taking off over there and I was deeply encouraged.  I picked up a stone from the beach, and hugged it to my heart as I prayed, thanking God for leading me to that place.  

That rock came home with me, survived the moves and is now in my backyard.  My new husband often takes me to exactly those spots in California; the Basilica is literally steps from his old stomping grounds.  The trials we’ve faced (him almost dying was just half of it!) has never quenched the deep joy in this marriage.  Quite simply, it’s easy to be with him.  Our little joys are many, in direct opposition to the hurdles.  Our partnership has blossomed instead of stagnated, and days of emotional pain are but a distant memory.

He loves my peacock-inspired hair, and was well enough to attend the Phoenix Open for a few hours last week.

Six years ago today, when I was hurting, I felt pulled to visit the seashore.  The seed of hope that was deposited in my heart I can now see was literally a glimpse of my future.  

When in pain, sometimes it’s hard to see the seeds of hope around us.  Other times, they’re easy to gather; when widowed with an infant, each new thing she learned was a seed of hope.  A smile, a roll, a wave, sitting up, eating peas, saying “dada,” crawling...all those little firsts were seeds of hope.  Hope that at least in that, life would again some day be normal.

So it’s unsurprising that in a life that’s far from normal right now, I find myself looking for seeds of hope.  I had been thrown into a quiet tailspin; I alone knew how I struggled.  The similarities to the Knight’s death overwhelmed me; my old nemesis Widowhood was stalking me.  As I sank, I saw the New Year as a seed of hope; perhaps resolutions would help.  I gathered many known seeds around me:  my Bible, a devotional, my beautiful new planner, a new bag of mechanical pencils.  I found a partner in my Buckeye; who was tasked simple to ask me if I was doing what I said I would do.  With a complete lack of control over the path my life was forced to take, I took control of the things I could:  my attitude, my priorities, my food choices and my hair.

This color was on my list in 2016, when I did my Poison Ivy red/orange combo, too:)

My hair.  Ohhhhhhhhhhh what a source of joy!!!  To look down and see my two favorite colors blended so beautifully-such joy and hope it brings!  I couldn’t help but be inspired by the Buckeye’s Christmas gift to me-a beautiful butterfly pendant with blue-green wings.

He hit a grand slam home run with this piece...with a brain injury, even!

While some of the seeds of hope I planted didn’t take (I work online, so limiting online time is not feasible; journaling is long gone) others have: a strict cut off of not working past 5pm or working on weekends, the habit of picking up a devotional, and taking time to think about the scriptures I read.  As we enter the season in Scottsdale and prepare for Prescott’s season, I am encouraged as things start to change for the better; we do have good days ahead.  When life seemed completely out of my control, I made a choice to correct my course.

Hope can be like that morning at Dana Point-a strong pull towards something, that when followed, gave deep peace.  It can be the actions of those around us, encouraging us.  More often, however, I’m finding it’s a choice.  A choice to do what we know is right for us.

Because dying your hair to match a peacock’s feathers certainly isn’t for everyone....!!!

Surely this lady isn’t reacting to my hair...?!?

The reaction to my hair has made me chuckle: I have admiring comments from the group of people who make their body their art.  The heavily tattooed, pierced crowd never fails to compliment me on it; the welcoming kinship is lovely (since I have only pierced ears and not a single tattoo!). Men are fascinated by it; when they talk to me their eyes are on my hair, not my face.  Women either ignore it or give me stink-eye, which I find hysterically funny.  Afterall, I did this for me, to regain some control over my life.  The “how dare she” looks are the reason why more women don’t do what I did, for fear of judgement.

Now that’s an whole different blog.....!!!

Today, the Buckeye has PT/OT, and a big test we hope he passes.  His future is looking bright; so long as he doesn’t bump his head he should have a full recovery.

There are still moments I sink; when the specter of widowhood rears and my little company overwhelms me.  But more often, I am thankful for today, for this moment in time.  The Commander wants us to meet her new boyfriend, the one I met as her friend who was very polite, called me ma’am and admired my antiques when he helped her move out of our house to Prescott.  Manchild will soon no longer be called Manchild, as he works step by step towards his goal of becoming a United States Marine. The Princess had grabbed on to similar seeds of hope in the new year; I see marked maturity in my nearly 17 years old daughter.  My husband, though injured, has rallied to a remarkable degree.  I no longer panic if he wanders away from me in the grocery store; worry no longer accompanies me on trips to Prescott without him.

Hope:  truly the anchor of our soul.

Questing Afresh

So, apparently a fat strainer is a thing.

I made my own chicken soup from scratch!

As it became more and apparent I had no clue what I was doing, I simply had to laugh.

How was it possible, at 47 years old, I had never cut up a fryer chicken before?  Why did neither I, or the Buckeye, own a fat strainer? More importantly, why did I think all of this would fit in that pot I used to cook the chicken?!

That’s 2 large onions and 10 cups of chopped butternut squash with kale (the carrots are behind me.)

The Buckeye’s injury had slowed him down to a shuffle; he walked with a cane when we are out and about at the new year.  Granted, it’s a kickbutt cane; it was my great-grandfather’s and is over 100 years old.

Henry’s cane, made out of a tree root or limb, around the turn of the last century.

Me, being the huge optimist, sees a very unique opportunity here:  the Buckeye is now slower than me.  Meaning now, more than ever before, is the very best time to start my quest afresh.

Four years ago, I suffered a traumatic brain injury, much like my husband is now suffering.  Granted, his brain bled and mine did not, and we hit different areas of our skull.  But post-concussion syndrome is something I am VERY familiar with...my fitness quest started because of it.  In this blog, I frequently whined about having/not having a partner...hating exercise, etc.

Welllllllllll......

This guy can’t go balls to the wall anymore in sport, and has been reduced to golf and hiking as his primary outlets for activities.

Me, too!!!!!!!!!!

I CAN DO THOSE THINGS!!!  I can also kayak, canoe....bicycle not down huge mountains, meander in general....!!!

While he sees a setback, I see a companion.  At this moment, my lungs are on par with his weak body.  What if we Quest together????

Our 5-2 diet returned on January 2nd; my healthy cooking is part of it.  We did this before amazingly well, only forgetting as the stress of my unsold house (and us living 100 miles apart) took its toll.  It once was a habit, and it’s going to be a habit again.  As the Buckeye reestablishes his hiking habit...why can’t I join him? What if I take those baby steps with him?

If I’m awake, I’ll try to remember this!

Last year, I joined the Buckeye in becoming a Browns fan.

The first time I wore this jacket to a restaurant, I was told they didn’t serve Browns fans.

I told him that OU’s hotshot QB Baker Mayfield, who he did not like, was going to win the Heisman, be the #1 draft pick by the Browns, break the Browns losing streak and the Browns, who were 0-16 the prior season, would win at least 6 games.

This is the aforementioned Mayfield, planting the OU flag in the middle of the Shoe, after humiliating the Buckeyes in 2017 😎

Baker did win the Heisman.

And he was the #1 draft pick.

And he did break the Browns losing streak.

And they won 7 games, not 6.

The Buckeye had to buy me Mayfield’s jersey...yes, it was a bet:) If all came true as I said, he’d have to buy it for me.  What neither of us foresaw? Manchild joining the Dawg Pound with us.

As I championed Baker, I decided to watch his pre-draft mini documentary on Facebook, Becoming Baker.  I was surprised to learn he had walked on to OU’s football team, and delighted to learn this brash young man seemed to have solid roots.  This was not Manziel 2.0, as my Buckeye claimed.  While he had some immaturity issues, he had a strong work ethic and dedication to doing right.  Furthermore, he had habits.  One habit I particularly I liked: he used negative things to motivate himself to do better.

This candy orange was full of lucious fluff...let’s not talk about calories, shall we?

So I’m looking at my weight as a negative I can be inspired by.  That helped when I stepped on the scale on 12/31 and I weighed 179.8 lbs - yeah! I was under 180.  That did not help one week later, when I stepped on the scale and weighed....

179.8.

So the positive is I didn’t gain any weight.  And to be honest, we started fasting on 1/2, so we only had one day in that week...and I was still super stressed, so I ate waaaay too much the other six days.

Week two, we fasted Monday and Wednesday, as was our old habit.  I learned that the diet had been updated, and two things were changed:  1) you could eat up to 800 calories on a fast day and 2) any calorie consumption under 50 calories meant you hadn’t broken your fast (as I suspected.)  This was awesome for me, as I don’t believe in breakfast.  Never have.  One cup of coffee with one tablespoon of creamer (35 calories) is all I need, and I’m good until 4ish.  Then I have a snack-of about 300 calories, that has some fat in it-avocados mixed with a few spices does wonders!  Add in a fairly normal dinner, and I’m easily under calories....

And I weighed 178.2 on week three:)

I’m finding it’s best if I only weigh myself once a week. The idea is healthy lifestyle, not losing weight like crazy.  I did notice (like before) that I was finding myself fuller on non-fast days; I had to consciously choose not to eat more when I was full.

I also dyed my hair peacock colors right around then...

Why blue-green hair?  Well, I love it, and the Buckeye loves it, and why not? It’s only hair, and I can control my hair.  Right?

I admit, I was surprised I rarely heard a thing about my hair in public.  Maybe two “I love it” and nothing else...society has apparently been well trained that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say it at all.

Week four? 177.2

Down at least a pound two weeks in a row, with a full tummy and denying myself really nothing.  Just better food choices.

Which is awesome, as my handsome Buckeye is really turning the corner in his recovery-we’re going golfing soon as “therapy!”

As the year ended, I was plummeting towards depression.  The horrid circumstances we were still facing, the Buckeye’s injury, my parents moving 2000 miles away and immediately getting injured, difficulties with business.  My stress eating didn’t help, and I put on eight pounds in December...which is coming off one pound at a time.  Healthy foods, recognizing bad habits and initiating old good ones (5-2, exercise, devotions, limiting screen time) have helped me tremendously...21 days into the new year I have some good habits in place.

Sounds like the Browns have some new good habits, too.

What this all boils down to is this:  we all have a choice.  Everyday, in every circumstance.

Will I do what’s best for me, or will I react negatively?

As things start turning around in every area of my life for the better, I recognize that many of the changes are due to simply making better choices.  My health is entirely the result of my choices.  As I watch the Buckeye daily push to regain his physical strength (he no longer needs the cane!) I see his choices impact the rest of our lives together.  I don’t ever want to look back and wish I’d made better choices; the only “what if” is right before me, today.

What if I chose to do it right, right now?

This man is showing me that every day, as he fights his way back to health.

While the Buckeye won’t be able to do what he loved to do (competition rugby, mountain biking, coaching basketball by playing full contact) he’s focusing on what he can do, and what new things we can do together.  He had a headache for 42 days straight, and kept his cool 98% of the time (better than most of us without headaches, I might add.)  As I focused on the circumstances, he looked forward to the future, set goals, and then started working towards them...even while in tremendous pain, everyday.

In truth, I’m doing what we all know to do: eat healthy, exercise, self-care for the body, soul and spirit.  I chose to do it when my world seemed very dark...at a time I thought I could not change anything.  What made it possible?

Taking it one moment, one hour, one day at a time.  That lesson I learned from my husband...by example, as I watched his progress continually move forward daily.

Having peacock colored hair??  It’s an amazing mood picker-upper:)

All thing work together for our good...if we simply make good choices, one moment at a time.

It’s Not Supposed to be Hard

One year ago, I made the realization that I could fall in love with the Buckeye, over and over again.

Like at this moment, during our vows, when we broke out giggling.  I fell a bit more.

Married life, is soooo easy.  Life itself? Right now? Very, very hard.  We are experiencing trials that make the past year pale in comparison.

But us?

Mrs & Mr Buckeye have been very, very happy; content, even (before the brain bleed...sigh!)

We’ve discovered that marriage, despite outward circumstances being very challenging, should be easy.

It was a choice to put aside our circumstances, and let us be us.  All summer they had plagued us:  moves, remodels and more moves.  Another house to put on the market, another sale to wait for.  All that change wore on both of us, as evidenced in our wedding photos.

While delighted with the pictures-my eyes are half shut in every one.  I was beyond exhausted with the stress of the prior few months.

Our mini-moon, a three-day jaunt to Vegas, was more to simply rest!  We went to bed early and did little but sit by the pool.

Undeniably happy, also undeniably tired.

So returning home, I had hoped for a reprieve.  Yes, his old house was still for sale, but it was completely done.  I could start focusing on better things, right?

Our lives were turned upside down at 6am the day after we came home.  They remain that way today, nearly four months later.  Confronted with a circumstance that could easily destroy us, we vowed to cling to one another.

Three weeks in, I couldn’t do it anymore.  

I began to panic.

A very good liar.

I was standing in the kitchen, putting away groceries.  The circumstances had overwhelmed me, and I wanted to run.  I had tried to cling, I had tried to be supportive, I had tried to be all I knew to be....and I wanted out.

I just wanted rest.

All along, I had thought it was just around the corner.  Now I was discovering that life had handed me a gauntlet so intimidating I was overwhelmed just a few weeks in...and as I stood there shaking, gripping a can of tomatoes I wanted to fling across the room, I questioned again why I was where I was.

And from deep within me, the answer came; strong, clear and insistent.

“LOVE NEVER FAILS.”

In that moment, I had to chose.  To chose to love, or to give in to physical weariness that was over a year in the making and to Fear, who was reminding me that when I’d chosen to love in the past, it hadn’t worked out in my favor.

I again chose love.

Despite a seventeen year history of choosing to love daily, only to have it end in a heartbreaking divorce.  Despite warning signs that this new marriage had hallmarks matching the last.

I chose love because I knew the Buckeye was not the King, and that severe circumstances were testing us both.  That our situation, while panic-inducing, wasn’t either of our faults.

The house sold soon after I made the choice to love; when the Buckeye utilized Open Door.  Yes, he paid a service fee, but his house was sold at a fair price 30 days later.  The sale relieved part of our burden, but the real relief had come much sooner.

While I chose to love, the Buckeye chose to listen.

My finished ring, two bands with rubies surrounding my sapphire.  I’m happily on Caspersen Beach, and delighted in the many grains of sand peppering my hand.

He began to learn, and I began to relax.  Neither of us had expected to be thrown in such a battle the day we returned home from our honeymoon.  While we had done fairly well not reacting, and had not attacked each other, we had forgotten we were now partners.  As I gently taught him the principles of choosing love, he was the first to see my need to heal.

Of course, there are things we will NEVER agree on...

In late October I returned from a cross-country drive to Florida; my parents decided to move there and I brought them their car while they flew.  Unexpectedly, I became ill with an ear infection.

That lasted a month.

I was barely better by Thanksgiving, and thankful I could join the Buckeye on his turn as the Grinch in the Prescott Lights Parade.

After weeks of inactivity due to extreme vertigo from the infection, I was starting to feel better...

My Buckeye had, in fact, proved to be a very good nurse.

So I’m feeling better, despite the unchanged, still awful circumstances that stretched back to the day we got back from our honeymoon when...

A tackle in a game of rugby didn’t go as planned.  He made the tackle, but took a knee to the forehead.

And thought he was fine.

He was not.

It was a brain bleed, and up to ICU he went.

Suddenly, our bad circumstances were compounded with a true threat to his very life.

Not certain who is more exhausted in this photo...

My Buckeye survived, and his trauma doctors told him he was very, very lucky.  Given his history of concussions, this one merely landed him in ICU; it could have permanently disabled him or killed him.  As is, we expect him to make a full recovery.

Still, the first two days he was home, I fought back tears.  I felt like I was in a time warp; that I was dealing with my own post post-concussion syndrome.  I knew what was coming:  the mood swings, the irrational anger and the mourning of the loss of life once lead.  While I recognized the fact I was exhausted, it was still hard not to give in.  Why were we being hit with another huge blow?  I struggled to keep in front of me the Buckeye’s survival.  All I could see were the broken dreams; the trials and the disappointments.  

And yet?

It was so easy to encourage him.  It was so easy to believe that he would have a full recovery, and we would be ok.

He couldn’t  do anything for two weeks...but our sweet dog Lucy is by his side (as am I.)

Oh, he’s had his moments.  I’ve had my moments.  It’s a struggle in many ways:  the recovery, our circumstances still unchanged and then little things piled on top.  An injured foot, an unpaid bill, doctors with no open appointments for two months.  Worries about so many things...

And yet....

It’s still easy.

It’s easy to rest my head on his shoulder and hear his heartbeat.  It’s easy to say, “it’s going to be ok,” and it’s easy to listen to him saying the same...and believing it.

We have a road together that has been a horrible, terrible ride since the day we came home...and yet, we are finding joy.  We are finding love.  We are finding that in our choice to cling to one another, we are being knit together with ties much stronger than either of us have ever known.

No, it’s not supposed to be this hard...but the fact we are finding it easy to be partners in it?

That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.