Other news I've been sitting on...

 and also forgot to bring up as well!

• About two weeks before I got the "yes" from my now-current job, my sister also got a "yes" from a new employer as well! I won't go into super detail about exactly what it is, but it's pretty much her dream job! It does require her to live in another city, so she's no longer close by. And with her and my schedules being different, we just text and play the occasional Minecraft to catch up. I miss her, but I'm also so happy for her.

• My parents are going to sell the home next year, around springtime. So yeah, goodbye to my childhood home. The very home I've lived in since the day after I was born up until mid-September. Word is that a one of our neighbors' children may buy it so they can be close to family. I hope so, I rather have someone I know and trust live in my old home. It's weird, I don't think of it as mine anymore, yet I don't want just anyone to have it. 

So that's pretty much it. It's big stuff, very big. 2015 was a great year for my family and I. At this rate, 2016 is set to be just as awesome!

Unexpected Nostalgia Road Trip (or: My Dad's Plans to Save ALL THE BETA THINGS)

Unbeknownst to me, my dad was hunting for a Beta tape player on eBay for a while now. He found a used one but it wasn't working as well as the seller led him to believe. Thankfully, he was able to get a refund and purchase something even better: an unopened Betavision tape player. According to Dad, he said it's similar to the one we had back in the eighties and early nineties. Of course, his goal is to get home movies (yes, we actually have some. Shocking I know.) and some other recorded media converted to modern formats.

Of course, finding out he did this, naturally, I had to ask: can I watch the tape? There was one tape, full of live performances of the big country artists of 1985-1988 (shut up, this was a decent era). This Beta tape had Nanci Griffith (the perennial family favorite), the late Dan Seals, the Charlie Daniels Band, Randy Travis, some random band whose unknown name haunted me for YEARS, and Keith Whitley (apparently his "Miami, My Amy" was one of my favorite songs when I was a baby, well, besides the Troggs' "Wild Thing"). Some were from obscure shows (New Country) and even familiar ones that still air today (Austin City Limits).

As I write this, I'm watching the tape. Oh my God, all the nostalgia feels I'm having right now. I cannot even begin to put them into words. It's great. I thought I would never get to watch this tape again.

There was also one band whose songs I did like, but couldn't find for the life of me. Until watching this tape again, I finally figured it out. The band is Exile. Yes, the same band who made "Kiss You All Over" (which I loathe) but became a country-rock band in the eighties. Damn, that was a shock. I had one of the songs correct: "Fly on the Wall" (which was co-written by Bruce Hornsby AND Bernie Taupin!) but couldn't trace it from there. Apparently, that's a popular song title.

So, some new things I learned during this whole experience:

• It's scary how much of this I remember. From what follows what to which songs will play. Didn't I mention I watched this a lot? 
• Somewhere in this world, there are people with unopened Beta tape players. And one of those people did business with my dad.
• Dan Seals played left-handed, as did one of his band members. And his Texas accent just makes me grin like a doofus.
• Dan Seals played a mean sax.
• Lyle Lovett sang backup for the live performance of "Once in A Very Blue Moon". I never knew that he was there!
• The audiences for all these shows: they are either dead or damn... almost thirty years older than they were.
• Even with the limited monies they had back then, my parents were still badass enough to have the means to record things like this. 
• The commercials are effing lulzy. One was about some money-making scheme. Make that two. Now one about something called "The Great American Race". 
• People out of the mainstream loop didn't really dress all that awful. So, all that stuff about the eighties being a bad decade of fashion? That's focusing on the popular stuff, not what NORMAL HUMANS (who didn't give an eff) wore. 
• The only music video on here is the Randy Travis one for "Forever and Ever Amen". I wonder why that is the case.
• Whoa, TNN (The Nashville Network) doesn't exist anymore. I suddenly feel my age.
• I want Randy Travis to sing at my wedding.

An Anecdote

Setup: Mom and I are driving back from Austin after seeing Fleetwood Mac. We made a few stops, including BookPeople where I got a copy of Girl in A Band by Kim Gordon (bassist of Sonic Youth). Since I'm not feeling well, Mom is at the wheel while I'm reclined in the passenger seat. I pick up the book and start talking to Mom about it.

*conversation is not exact wording, just a heads-up*

Me: You know, she's a Taurus like you. See? *shows the cover and points to her shirt*

Mom: (after glancing at it) Oh yeah, she is! Yea, Taurans!

(Getting a hunch, I look up Kim Gordon on Wikipedia)

Me: What do ya know? She's only a week older than you! [Gordon was born on April 28th, while Mom was born on May 7th]

Mom: Huh!

Me: Her husband is the leader of the band. They just divorced recently because he was cheating on her.

Mom: Well, I know that feeling. [Mom was previously married to a police officer/part-time musician before she met my father.]

(I decide to read part of the first chapter about the announcement of Gordon and Thurston Moore's split.)

Me: Huh, you two have a lot in common: Taurans who were married to cheating musicians.

~~

And that's how I found out Kim Gordon and my mother would have a lot to talk about, if they ever were to meet.

So, some personal news...

After months of wondering what the hell was going on with her hip, being in so much pain that work-camping was becoming more of a chore than a fun thing, my mom went to the doctor and found out she will be needing hip replacement surgery. She is scheduled to get it done in mid-November, over a week before my birthday.

Now, this isn't her first rodeo with all this, she had both of her knees replaced over ten years ago. But naturally, I worry since she is... well, ten years older than when she got her knees done (for those keeping score at home, she is sixty-one). Dammit, I knew having older parents was going to start haunting me at some point. And here we are: me fretting over it.

I know she is in good hands: the doctor did her previous replacement surgeries and has even helped my dad with his own arthritis issues. My mom is no hothouse orchid either, I liken her more to a lovely flowering succulent: low-maintenance yet when something is seriously wrong, TLC is welcomed with open arms. My parents are very faithful and believe in prayer (which can help calm one down during stressful situations) and also have great insurance, even the funds to pay off whatever the hospital will likely throw at them.

For once, I'm thankful I still live with my parents. With this surgery being a future thing, I feel I'll be able to help whenever I can. And no, it will not come at the cost of my job-hunting nor my possible future job(s). My mom made it clear that she will smack me upside the head (metaphorically of course!) if I ignore myself while helping her during the six-eight week recovery period. It may be things like help keep the house clean, drive her to some places, and even root for her as she works on physical therapy.

I was barely eighteen when my mom first went for surgery to alleviate her arthritis (sadly, a disease that has roots deep on both sides of my family tree). I was an immature, snarky, pessimistic girl then. I'm still snarky, but I have grown so much. Sure, I still get pessimistic thoughts and I have the tendency to whine especially when I'm under deep stress (better than getting angry, I guess); but I feel now that I can be more of a help as a young adult with a better grasp of herself. Not just because I got better psychologically, but now that I've shouldered a lot of responsibility since then, helping someone after a surgery wouldn't be an overwhelming thing to do.

But that doesn't mean I will not worry. Damn my anxious mind.

The one thing to keep in mind is that once it's done, my mom will be mostly pain-free until her days on Earth are done. May she live to be a hundred, more years of less pain and more adventure!

Love and cheers to you, Mom! You continue to be an inspiration.

Why I Will Do Camp NaNoWriMo This Year (and Other Assorted Thoughts)

It is for the silliest reason ever. My sister is actually going to throw her hat into the ring. She told me about it a while ago and I decided to join her, since "why the hell not?" was the only reaction I had other than "what possessed her to try it out this time?" Either way, I will be working alongside her this time for Camp NaNoWriMo... and if she enjoys that, then she'll join me for the main event in November!

I'm gonna evoke the Zokutou clause this time. Actually, might as well for both events! I won back in 2011 and 2012 honestly (meaning I started from scratch on the first day and finished with 50k by the 30th). I already have an idea of each story I may end up working on.

Either way, even with that going on, I also have been real busy with job hunting-related stuff. I had an interview the other day with a local bank for a possible full or part-time position. I'll keep y'all up to date on how that goes. I feel like I could've done better at the interview, but I hope I did enough to show the manager that I am worth hiring. Trust me, ma'am, once you get me in action... you'll see that I am worth all the training time and salary the company will pay me!

That's about it here for now. I really need to get better about updating this. My bad.

16 years ago today...

I lost my paternal grandfather to lung cancer.

It struck him down so quickly. It was a blink-and-miss-it time. Surreal with myriad of images and senses awakened: white walls of nursing homes and putting together hospital beds. The smell of antibacterial cleaners and the low mumbling of a distant TV on the wall. A barren peach tree suddenly full of fruit for my mom to make cobblers for my grandfather.

~ ~ ~

I remember the last time I saw him healthy. My dad and I were dropping him and my paternal grandmother off at the airport (they were going to visit my aunt in Maine), waving goodbye to him. The trip was cut short due to my grandfather's health taking a dramatic dive. It took little time for the doctors to discern the cause.

We visited the hospital as he got chemotherapy, brought him our company and comfort when gifts would've been a poor move. After the hospital, he briefly rested at his home with my family and I visiting often. My mom helped him shave his head for the chemo. She jokingly called him the white Michael Jordan.

He was moved to a nursing home when it got nasty again. My parents, especially my dad, wanted him back at his own home (I later discovered that my grandfather's death was imminent, more so than I realized at the time. There was no doubt, as my mom told me, that cancer kicked him down hard and was making him stay down for good.) They began the arduous process of setting up a hospital bed and other needed equipment in his trailer home. My grandmother wanted him in the nursing home. It was an element of tension between the son and mother. We never got the chance to get him settled comfortably at his home.

My last memory of my grandfather was at the nursing home, hooked up to a breathing tube and his eyes shut. He was napping. I didn't want to disturb him. I told him goodbye and kissed his shaved head.

~ ~ ~

Then August 7th, 1997 arrived. It was mid-afternoon. My sister and I were playing with our stuffed animals, having them on adventures far beyond the capacity of their polyester-filled bodies. We were called into the living room.  My mom was sitting on the couch, my dad nowhere to be seen. I asked her of his whereabouts and she said that he was out in the backyard. She began telling us the news, choking up at the reveal: "Papa died today". At that, she burst into tears.

My sister was stoic at the news, probably trying her damnest as an eight-year-old to understand the gravity of it all. As for my ten-year-old self... saying that I was sad is an understatement. I was f****ing inconsolable. I ran back to my room, with all the stuffed animals, and embraced my stuffed animal shark Chelsea.

~ ~ ~

There was a wake on the 12th, no casket or anything dramatic like that. He was cremated and his ashes spread somewhere in Texas. An old friend delivered the eulogy, a group of Army soldiers folded a flag and presented it to my uncle (the eldest son), and I sat next to my dad with Chelsea in a purse. 

We began to homeschool again, though it wasn't the same. Everything changes when someone dies, especially the only family member that actually supported the idea. The tree that bore so many peaches later perished after my grandfather's death. For a long time, it sat in our backyard, doing nothing other than remind us of that time. After a few years, my dad chopped it down. My mom cried as he did, unable to watch it finally come down. 

~ ~ ~

I never forget this day. I just can't. Every time August 7th passes by, I emotionally freeze up and remember. The tears, the peaches, the nursing home, the softness of Chelsea's dorsal fin against my face. The last time I saw my grandfather. His eyes shut. The foreshadowing of the sadness to come. The day reeks of sickness. Whenever people want to make plans with me and they end up on this day, I don't do it. It is bad luck. 

To say his death had an impact on me is putting it lightly. My stories are fraught with families devastated by an important family member's death, main characters who had a beloved relative (usually a grandparent) stolen away by disease, and these events are the equivalent of 9.0-scale earthquakes. 

For God's sakes, I even dedicated the novel project Invisible to him. I feel that this novel is so important to me, that it should be dedicated to someone just as equally important.

Nothing else needs to be said of today. Or of my grandfather. I have spent my words.

Veteran's Day (For My Grandfather)

Yesterday and today, we honor those who served in the armed forces, who gave their time and lives to fight for our freedoms and big causes. One person I remember the most is my paternal grandfather.

He died when I was ten, after a brief but merciless battle with lung cancer at the young age of sixty-seven. He was in the Army and served during the Korean War, stationed at Fort Hood in his later days (my father was born there, in fact). As a kid, I remember going to his trailer home and seeing mementos of those times. There was a standard-sized portrait of him in his uniform in the bedroom. I also remembered that he still had his dog tags from those days. He also told my parents that he took pictures while he was over in Korea. He never did get to tell me about his days in the military, or show me those photos he took while he was over in Asia. When he died, all that went with him. His ex-wife took all of his things, including all the awards and pictures of his times in the Army, and we were left only with our memories (and a few trinkets). If things were more ideal, I would have that portrait and his dog tags and I would wear the tags on this day every year.

But at least I have wonderful memories of him. To my shock, my mother told me that of all the grandchildren, I was his favorite. I think it's because he saw a lot of himself and my father in me: a stubborn streak, pale skin freckled with moles, a kindhearted personality laced with grouchiness, and fierce independence and intelligence. He also showed me my first typewriter, an old Underwood desktop he took with him when he retired. It breaks my heart to say that we gave it away years ago and I deeply regret it (as does my father). Even when I left behind my teddy bear at a state park, my grandfather only said "well, we have to go back".

I like to think that he and Neil Armstrong (another Korea vet) are chatting it up in the higher planes, trying to remember if they ever ran into each other. They probably didn't, but at least they can share memories.

I miss you, Papa, and I wish on this day every year I can wear something that shows how proud of you I am. Either way, I am honored to be the granddaughter of an Army vet.