The Grass Is Green Enough

I was quite surprised and delighted when he showed up at my front door, green from head to toe, flexing his huge muscles. Two-year-old Connor is all about superheroes these days. I’d seen his Spiderman costume on Halloween, but I didn’t even realize that he had a Hulk costume also. Needless to say, it was a very entertaining Thanksgiving gathering. Most of the time Connor was pretty well behaved – for a sugared up toddler that is. Sure, he had a couple of loud, rambunctious moments, but it happens, especially when you’re channeling the Hulk. As far as I know, Hulk is the only superhero who transforms when he’s angry. It just got me thinking about feelings – particularly the not-so socially acceptable ones. I’ve been receiving daily email messages from GriefShare. They are brief messages of encouragement to help people through the grieving process. For the past several days, the messages have been about anger. They say that anger is a normal feeling after a loss, one that is nei...

He pulled up in the driveway that spring day in March 2018 with a huge grin on his face. “What do you think?” He asked. “It’s nice.” Adam had just bought the white Ford F-150 in Oroville the day before. He came down to Lincoln to show Don and I, and we went out to lunch at Panda Express to celebrate. He loved that truck. Took it camping, off-roading, you name it. I’m forever grateful to my sister and brother-in-law for storing it on their property after he died because I couldn’t look at it without falling apart. Eventually, the lender came and took it back. But it hasn’t left my memory. Did you know that there are about a million and one white Ford F-150s on the road these days? I see them everywhere. On my way to work. On my way home. I can’t get on the freeway without being surrounded by them. To be honest, I was getting angrier and angrier every time I saw one. Seriously? I can’t take this! This went on for months. I was recently talking to a friend about it. “I n...

Today is Veterans Day, a day that celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans. Certainly, all those who have served our country should be celebrated and honored. My dad, grandpa, Don’s dad, grandfather, and uncle Don to name a few. We have the life and freedoms that we do because of their sacrifice. They are all heroes. But to be totally honest, I don’t feel much like celebrating anything today. You see, six months ago today, our son lost his battle with mental illness. In a strange way, I feel like my family and I are war veterans, too, but we didn’t go into the military. Instead, we fought a very private war. It was scary and frustrating and complicated and exhausting. Some days, it looked like our kind and smart boy – a son/nephew/cousin/grandson/sibling/friend - was going about his life fine. Working as a computer programmer, enjoying his love of gaming or hiking, just doing his own thing. Other days, we had a sneaking suspicion that things weren’t what they appeared...

The tangled mess lay on my dining room table like a sloppy plate of spaghetti. T-shirts, sweatshirts, flannels, belts, a couple of baseball caps, pants, shorts, jackets, thermals, boxers, shoes, socks. Lots and lots of socks. Piece by piece, I folded, sorted, and stacked. Each item held a flood of memories. He wore that sweatshirt last Christmas. That flannel was a favorite when he went camping. The faded 49er cap was a staple in his wardrobe. The eclectic collection of t-shirts came from all sorts of places and events. Some were gifts, others souvenirs from trips we’d taken, bands he liked, a couple from Chico State. I moved on to long-sleeved shirts. I never realized how much he liked plaid. He especially liked soft things. From the time he was little, he was drawn to soft fabrics. His grandma loves to tell the story of how she took him shopping at the fabric store to pick up material to make him some pajamas. He walked around touching each and every option until he found the softe...

The day was going along fine, good in fact. It was a perfect mix of productivity and fun. We stopped by the Kaiser clinic to get our flu shots, then hit the library nearby. I found a book I’ve been wanting to read (score!), plus I grabbed a handful of books for Con Bon. After the library, we stopped by a neighborhood park so the toddler could expend spend of his boundless energy. Grandma even went down the slide, too. Such fun! A bit later, we pulled into our driveway at home.   I went to get Connor out of his car seat, and that’s when I noticed something was missing. “Where is my purse? Oh crud! I left it somewhere! “ Immediately, I went into panic mode. “Dear God, please help me find that purse! I beg you!” We hightailed it back to the library while I dialed their number. The librarian re-traced my steps: children’s section, check-out counter, exit. Nope. Nada. I left my name and number – just in case. Still, we cruised by the parking lot to check if perhaps it fe...

Recently, I spent a rainy day Monday with Con Bon. We stayed warm and cozy inside and found some fun things to do for entertainment, including playing a game of Candy Land. We each picked our colored gingerbread man, and off we went! “Connor, what did you draw?” “Blue!” “You get to move ahead two blue squares. Let’s count them. One, two!” Back and forth we went. Orange squares, green squares, yellow squares, blue squares. One square, two squares, and every once in a while, one of us got a special treat. The ice cream cone, the peppermint, or the lollipop. We didn’t totally follow the rules, though. We ignored the part about skipping a turn if you land on an X. We didn’t go backwards either. We did, however, take shortcuts if we landed on one. After all, Connor is only 2 ½. I wanted it to be fun. Eventually, we both arrived at King Kandy’s Castle and did a victory dance with our gingerbread men. Such is life in Candy Land. Real life not so much. Can I get...

A dear friend of mine bought me this coffee mug a while back. I assured my husband that it's only partially true. I do love him, too. Really I do. But books. What can I say? I pretty much have an insatiable appetite for them. I laugh at myself - and the evidence of my ADD - because I often have multiple books going at any given time. They pile up on my nightstand. Fiction, non-fiction, memoirs, you name it. But just to be clear, I haven't always been a lover of the written word. As a child, I much preferred climbing trees, roller skating, and hopping around on my Pogo Stick to laying around with my nose in a book. In fact, it wasn't until high school before I realized I actually quite enjoyed a quite Saturday afternoon with a Danielle Steele novel or something of the like. Up until then, I avoided reading at all costs. I even have a confession. When I was in the 5th grade, I once cheated on an oral book report. Okay, maybe I cheated more than once. Mrs. K regularly ...