Lost.

One of my twitter friends sent out a suggestion that we write a blog post centered on the word "lost" and what it evokes in us. So, I reflected and tried to think of the moment in my life when I felt the most lost.

My mind took me back to when I was two years old. It’s odd but I do actually remember being two fairly well. My parents were moving us from the Dallas, TX area to New Iberia, LA. Because of this, I and my older sister were staying in Fayetteville, AR with my Grandparents.

My Grandmother took care of the older widows in her neighborhood. She would mow their lawns for them, help them with chores around the house or take them to the grocery store. While we were visiting her, she took us around to all their houses to say, “Hi.” And brighten their days.

I don’t remember what day of the week it was but it was early in the afternoon when the event I’m rambling toward took place. My Grandmother loaded us into her boat of a car, this was 1981 after all, and took us to Aunt Thelma’s house. Of course, Aunt Thelma was no relation to us but that didn’t seem to matter. Our mission was to take her to a department store to help her get some needed shopping done.

We arrived and bought the needed items without incident. However, when it was time to go, Grandma noticed that Aunt Thelma had been worn out by traipsing around the large store. She decided to have us wait by the entrance and bring the car around.

Once Aunt Thelma was situated in the front seat, my older sister and I tried to climb in. I do mean “climb” in. That car was huge to my little two year old self. I was struggling and my sister, unfortunately, wasn’t helping. She was pushing me but against the car instead of up into the back seat.

My Grandmother leaned over the front seat to offer me a hand and I’m not sure what she did to make what followed happen but the car suddenly surged backward. The open car door hit me with a great deal of force and I fell. Almost instantly the front wheel was up and over me and I was left lying on the ground.

My Grandmother panicked and didn’t apply the brakes for a few very long seconds which allowed the car to travel some distance from where I had fallen. My older sister had been grasping the inside handle of the car door and was knocked off her feet but not under the car as I had been. She was, however, dragged quite a long distance across the rough asphalt and had severe abrasions. Also, when my Grandmother applied the brakes she did so very suddenly and the car door tried to slam shut over my sister, causing some very painful bruising.

While my older sister’s injuries were basically superficial, they were very painful and the situation so sudden that she went into shock. I remember hearing her screaming and turning my head. For some reason, I didn’t even try to get up or move. I didn’t feel any pain. I just felt strange. I watched my sister get up and start a limping pace; back and forth. Someone rushed over and picked her up and I remember her sobs turning into an intense screaming. Then she went quiet and there were a lot of people between her and me. Then I saw her being carried over to a car. She was now wrapped in a blanket and they put her on the hood of the car.

No one seemed to notice me. My sister had started crying again and I realized she was crying out my name. I don’t know why, but I didn’t answer. Everything seemed to be telling me to be very still. I noticed my Grandmother talking to my sister and then yelling and looking around.

She saw me and ran over. She asked me questions in a very soft voice. I don’t remember exactly what they were and I don’t remember answering her. She picked me up very gently and I was relieved that there was no pain, though I frightened that I expected it.

An ambulance arrived and they started to load my sister onto a board and into the ambulance. She started screaming my name at that point and asking where I was. I still didn’t say anything.

My Grandmother walked over to one of the ambulance drivers and told him she thought she had run over me. He argued with her but she was adamant. I remember her saying she knew she had run over something and my sister had claimed it was me. I remember the ambulance driver being very annoyed and telling my Grandmother that I looked fine and to take me home. If I was still acting strangely in an hour, bring me to the hospital.

Then my Grandmother started yelling and I don’t remember the exact words, just that the yelling scared me. I, at this point, was terrified of the ambulance driver.

He reached out and grabbed me roughly out of my Grandmother’s arms and I finally felt the pain. It was like someone had spilt something very hot on my abdomen. It really did feel wet and spread outward. I heard screaming and it took me a moment to realize it was me. I felt like I was being peeled apart, it was absolutely terrible awful pain.

The ambulance driver moved me quickly over to the ambulance at that point. I could hear my sister and was actually comforted to know that she was closer but I couldn’t stop screaming. I wanted to stop because my throat was already hurting from it but it was completely out of my control.

They tied me to a board which made the pain much worse. I saw my sister, but then they put a brace on my neck and I couldn’t see her anymore. I started crying out her name and could hear her, so close to me, crying mine.

I have never in my life felt so lost and alone as I did for those few minutes in that ambulance when I was tied to a board in mind numbing pain, unable to move or look at anything but the ceiling above me.

I knew my parents were very far away. My Grandmother had left me and though my big sister seemed to be right there, all I could do was listen to her scream.

Then I felt someone fiddling with the straps and my right arm came free. A large hand moved mine and suddenly I was grasping a very familiar small hand, my sister’s. Someone had freed our arms and put our hands together.

I squeezed my sister’s hand and felt connected again. My sister stopped crying. She squeezed my hand back and told me I was okay. Hearing her voice made me feel safe and somehow oriented in the world again. I managed to stop crying and we rode the rest of the way to the hospital in almost complete silence.

When we arrived, I was removed first. The very last thing I remember on that day is someone forcefully removing my hand from my sisters. I think that was the point I lost consciousness.

The rest of the story is that I had broken my pelvis and done some damage to various abdominal organs but made an almost 100% complete recovery.

I spent some time in the hospital. The feeling that my stay there would never end wasn’t helped by the fact that I actually had my third birthday there. All in all it was probably only two weeks to a month. I’m really not sure.

The entire time I was away from home, my sister would sleep walk at night. In her sleep she would wander around my Grandparents house calling my name and looking for me.

In the hospital I would call her name in my sleep. When she was visiting, no one else was allowed to push my wheel chair and for quite some time after the accident, she had a hard time letting me out of her sight.

I don’t think I will ever forget that on the day and moment in my life when I was the most lost; the person who found me and made me feel safe was my big sister.

I’m not sure now if it’s because of that or just because she is my big sister, but nothing in my life seems real until I’ve told her. It’s like I orient myself around her. Whenever I am hurt or lonely or lost, the person to whom I turn for direction has always been and will always be my big sister.

Life Changing Leaves

Not THOSE leaves.

Okay, so I had a salad today that may have changed my life. Yes, it was that good. Very good…Matrix-Reloaded-Cake-Scene-Good.

However, that’s not why it may have changed my life.

I’m getting there, don’t rush me.

The sandwich guy has been selling out of my favorite, cucumber and cream cheese with romaine and tomato, before I get to him lately. Instead, I’ve been getting a romaine salad and a fresh fruit cup. Today, he actually had the cucumber sandwich but suggested I try a new salad. It was fruit, nuts and romaine with a creamy sweet dressing.

I debated for a moment…a long moment. I mean, I haven’t been able to have my regular cucumber sandwich for almost a week but that salad really did look good. Hmm. Should I stick with tried and true or take a chance on something new?

Yes, I know that rhymes. Let’s move on.

I got the salad and, as you’ve already read, it was AMAZING. Completely worth it.

Here’s how this situation may have changed my life:

I recently applied for another job. It’s in a department in which I used to work. It’s more pay and promises an interesting and varied work environment. However, that potentially interesting work environment could also potentially be hostile or otherwise miserable.

I don’t know. The supervisor could be mean or my coworkers could be mean, there could be an overall overabundance of meanness. I kept thinking about it and worrying about it.

Today, I was very close to emailing HR to withdraw my application. I was thinking, “I’m fine where I am. Why would I risk that for an unknown?”

Then I had the salad. Yeah, it was a tiny risk but it totally paid off. This is, without doubt, one of the best salads I’ve ever eaten. If I hadn’t taken a chance, I’d never know that.

So, no, Scaredy-Cat me! I’m not withdrawing my application. I’m going through with it because if I don’t try new things, I’ll miss out on the near orgasmic salads of awesomeness the world is holding onto for me.

So, You Had A Bad Day

Good Golly Miss Molly was yesterday a bad day.

I don't want to give you a downer so I'll only tell you the funny parts.

Okay, first of all: Bad Hair Day. Believe me, it was funny.

Then it seemed the wind was trying to be helpful by giving me that wind-blown-helmet-hair look. Sadly, and hilariously, this seemed to actually be an improvement.

Have you ever started pedaling your way down the street and noticed something was off? You start trying to check various mechanisms on your bike while you ride, to figure out what's making the ride so strange, and then you realize you left your helmet on the couch.

You know that if you go back, you might miss your bus so you consider forgetting about it just this once. Then you remember Murphy's Law and the fact that you have a 2 year old and you go back.

You grab the helmet and start pedaling like Chef Gordon Ramsey is chasing you with a cleaver and wearing his "mean face". Your lungs are about to explode out of your chest but you see the intersection and start to relax.

Then you see the bus. But the light! The light turns green and the bus stops because its light has turned RED. You get a second wind and start screaming, "Stay Green! Stay Green!" You realize that the people staring at you now definitely think you’re a militant environmentalist but YOU DON'T CARE!!! Because you're almost there!

Then your light turns red, the bus' light turns green and you watch it pass you by. You wait 30 minutes and catch the next one.

You may find yourself in a strangely brighter world. You may find yourself in a strangely empty bus. You may tell yourself; this is not my beautiful bus. You may ask yourself, How did I get here?

Okay, I'll stop that now.

Anyway, the rest of the story involves militant car drivers, a mud puddle and riding the elevator with my VP in what can only be described as a disreputable state (me, not her).

Sigh.

Well, I did get to take in a beautiful sunrise that morning, and it wasn't cold and/or rainy. Also, I had the most wonderful evening with the Monkey the night before.

The Hubby didn't get home until past ten, so the Monkey and I had a little adventure. We went to the park. Then we went to a pizza place and ordered a vegetarian pizza. The Hubby hates it but the Monkey prefers veggie pizza too.

While the pizza was being cooked, we went to the book store next door. I told the Monkey he could pick out one new book and he brought me six.

I said, "That's six, Monkey. Not one."
He said, "No, Mommy. This is one. And this is one. And this is one...etc."

Okay, he didn't say etc. That was just so I wouldn't have to write 'and this is one' five times.

Anyway, we solved the problem by sitting in the aisle and reading all six. Then he picked his favorite: Bunny Trouble.

BTW, it's about time someone wrote a book about the trouble with bunnies. I watched Rabbit Proof Fence and I don't remember seeing a single bunny. I thought, "Finally, someone is pointing out the trouble with bunnies." But no.

OMG, this blog post is ridiculously silly. I guess my natural reaction to bad days is to get ridiculously silly. It's my meager attempt to cheer myself up. It usually works pretty well.

Well, here’s hoping you have a good day…or at least a funny bad one.

Crazy Kismet

My sister sent me a chain text today. One of those, “now text this to six people and see what happens” things.

This one asked the question: What’s the first thing you remember about meeting me?

Now, considering she’s my sister and we’re the same age, that sounds like a silly question to ask. However, she was adopted when we were eight. So, not so silly after all.

Little info on my family: My parents collected kids. My parents are AWESOME. My husband calls them the world’s poorest philanthropists and says they’re too good for their own good. Then he smiles smugly, extremely pleased with himself.

My first thought when one of my favorite sis’ asked me this was to go back to that incredibly awkward day when I was pulled out of school early by my parents to meet my new sisters. (My parents usually adopted in multiples of two. They actually made the font page of The Daily Iberian once with the headline “Two By Two By Two”.)

Anyway, Shiney and Susan were the first adoptees in our family so we hadn’t figured out exactly how things worked.

When Shiney asked that question my mind went to standing there like a dolt wondering what to say to these two girls that were suddenly part of the family. Then, I remembered the fact that Shiney and I had met before that.

See, I had this best friend growing up named Kelly. She lived in the same trailer park and we had the exact same birthday. Well, Kelly’s parents had upward mobility and moved to Lafayette into an honest to goodness house. I remember they were the first to get out of a trailer.

Anyway, Kelly moves to a new city, goes to a new school and gets a new best friend. What’s really weird is that Kelly’s new best friend turned out to be Shiney. Our parents decided to throw Kelly’s and my seventh birthday parties together and, of course, Kelly invited her new best friend Shintina (Shiney).

That’s how it came to be that I met my sister over a year before we adopted her. Being the freak that I am when it comes to memory, I was the only person who actually realized this.

But, seriously, how crazy is that? That my adopted sister, who didn’t even live in the same city as me, just happened to end up attending my seventh birthday party a year before we adopted her.

It makes an argument for predetermination or kismet or fate or SOMETHING.

Incidentally, I also was best friends with one of my other future sisters about two years before we adopted her and one of my foster sisters turned out to be distantly (and I do mean distantly) related to us.

It just goes to show that we’re all a lot more connected than we like to think. At least, that’s what I like to think.

The Problem With Heroes

Attention: Spoilers for “A Clear and Present Danger” and “Truth and Blood” (the last two episodes of this, the third season).

Okay, first of all, just typing the word spoilers almost has me laughing at myself. It’s like, is that even possible? Is it possible to spoil sour milk?

And the reader gets a hint of how I’m feeling about the latest Heroes installments.

It’s not all bad. Actually, it’s an interesting path they’re taking. It would have been a lot more interesting if they’d done it, say, a year ago. You know, before Obama came into office and went about disbanding Gitmo.

But, a decided lack of timeliness is not “the problem with Heroes”, in this bloggers opinion. It’s a decided lack of characterization.

I was underwhelmed at the return of Heroes but was pleasantly surprised by the volume four opener: A Clear and Present Danger. Suddenly these wacking over the top characters had been made human.

Peter was a paramedic. Mohinder was driving a cab. Matt was amusingly trying to get Daphne to go straight. Hiro had created a superhero headquarters and established himself as Ando’s sidekick…okay, that’s human for Hiro.

It was nice. Peter’s paramedic partner was on screen for all of five minutes and I actually got the feeling he was a living breathing human being.
Then Truth and Blood happened. Suddenly, we’re thrown back into a world where people can die and no one seem to notice or care…and that includes the audience.

I have a problem with the current TV trend that is, have a HUGE cast so the individual screen time of most characters suffers as a result and then kill off characters randomly. Oh! And when you kill them off, don’t let that actually draw the remaining characters closer and focus more attention on them. Oh, no. What fun would that be? Instead, add new shiney characters to the show that will annoy and alienate the audience because they take time away from the characters they already know and like.

Lost Our Heroes trend. That’s the official un-official name for that trend.

Heroes is even worse than Lost about this, though. Daphne dies and…nothing. A huge helping of nothing with nothing on the side and nothing pie for desert. I LIKED Daphne. I thought she was cute and fun and just loved Matt’s interactions with her. Suddenly, pop pop and she’s down and nobody seems to freaking CARE!

Nathan actually narrated over her death people!

This is the writers of Heroes not seeming to understand the fundamental truth that is characters are not plot devices. They announced proudly that the actors/characters would serve the story and “no one was safe”. Gasp! You rascals, you! You’re so out there and unpredictable.

They just don’t get that characters are what drive a story. You can have the coolest, most relevant, most exciting plot in town but if people don’t care about the characters that inhabit that plot, NO ONE WILL WATCH IT!

The development of the characters in Heroes is ranking number 81 on the writers list of things to do.

And THAT is the problem with Heroes.