The Tooter

Yesterday, was day one of boot camp. We took our measurements and did some tests to see where we stand in terms of how many sit-ups we can do in one minute, how many push-ups, ect. Obviously, I am sore. I am so sore, that I can't even smile. I can't lift my arms above waist level. My mom is doing boot camp with me. She has the same problem as I do when it comes to giggling at inappropriate times. For instance, yesterday when we were doing the sit-up test, my mom was standing on my feet and she was counting how many crunches I was doing. When I was on like number 11, the guy doing sit-ups (like 5 inches away from me) did a little, well actually a big gigantic toot. It was loud----so loud it was hard to pretend to not hear it, and with my giggling problem-- this was a challenge...and I failed. I started laughing. Poor guy. I think my belly got a better work out from laughing at this poor gentleman's air release, than the actual crunches. During the push-up test, our push-ups did not count, unless our chests touched this blue block--I kept thinking during these push-ups that I should have worn my padded bra, so that I wouldn't have had to go down so far.

My job is going fantastic. I am actually loving it. I have met some nice people--- and I did I mention the one hour lunch break? Or the fact that I have my own office with a direct view of a funeral parlor?

We celebrated Keyton's 9th birthday on Friday. We went swimming at a hotel and spent the night. Keyton had a great day--and now has more Legos than anyone should.

On Saturday, Jesse and I left the kids with my parents and went to Bismarck in search of a new vehicle. We found one we liked. I think we would have purchased it-- if the dealership would have offered us more for our mini van. The first month I had my mini van, Owen was in the NICU. One day, after visiting Owen, I was backing out of a parking spot and so was another woman--we hit each other. I got out of the van and this little woman got out her car and said, "Speak no English!" She got back in her car and drove away-- really fast. I don't think my husband believes this story--but it really happened. So basically, since we first owned our van, we have had a crack in the back bumper. We drove to Bismarck to find out that we have to get our van fixed and sell it on our own. However, this was a blessing actually, because when we thought about the vehicle that we were about to purchase, we decided that the light interior would have been a huge pain in the rear. We now decided that we are going to go for black interior. So instead of spending a lot of money on a new set of wheels, I spent (when compared to the car) a little amount of money at the mall.

Jet

I found the above picture of a Challenger 300, one of the many Challenger 300's Jesse's company owns and the jet Jesse flies around the country in each day he is working. This is a picture of one of his actual company's Jets.
I guess this is what it looks like inside? Jesse,correct me if I am wrong.
I found this picture of a guy racing the jet Jesse flies. This sort of cracks me up.

People often ask me about what Jesse (my husband) does for a living. They often ask me what kind of jet Jesse flies. They ask me about his company. I posted some pictures (above) of pictures I found of the jet he flies. I get questions like, "Does he ever pick you up?" "Does he fly out of Williston?" The answer to both of those questions is no--I wish. I am personally fascinated with the line of work my husband does. He flies a really fast Jet (I think). Believe me, when we go on a road trip, like from here (Williston, ND) to Minneapolis, I can tell he is more annoyed than the most, with the length of time it takes us to get there. Recently, we drove to Minneapolis for a doctor's appointment for Keyton. He told me maybe once or twice that he could have flown from the West Coast to the East coast two and half times in the time it took us to drive to Minneapolis from Williston. He flies people to really cool events like the Super Bowl and award shows. Flying is Jesse's passion. He gets to do what he loves and for this I am thankful. I would be more than willing to hop aboard.I have always been somewhat nervous to fly. When I fly with my husband (commercial) I often look at him when things start to get bumpy --and when I notice that he is not making any faces--that say---"We're going down!", I can stay calm. I can't believe people can actual fly private--all I want is a full size SUV.

Pierced!

We didn't make it to church this morning. I am wondering if I would have behaved better today, then last Sunday.

Last night my dad took the kids and I to a basketball game. While sitting in the bleachers, I was overtaken with memories. Memories from being a small child, as well as memories from being in high school myself. When I looked across the room I saw many familiar faces, many of these faces I have seen through out my life. There were four men sitting together, they had all been teachers at Williston High School together, now they are retired. These men sat there together and smiled, they didn't say much to each other, but they didn't have too. They have known one another their whole lives. They have an incredible bond. I couldn't help but find it cool they still wanted to sit together. I thought about all the life changes they had experienced with each other. Like, being on each other's basketball team, coaching others together, attending each others weddings, welcoming children in to the world, watching their children grow up, and welcoming their grandchildren into this world. It made me happy. I also envisioned all of the faces I used to see in that gym. My old friends. I miss my old friends, dearly. Most of the people I grew up with live in various parts of the country. Many of them live in other parts of North Dakota, but I don't see them anymore. I value my relationships with my childhood friends. I see them now (on the social network sites) with their babies, in a sense-- we are all together, because of this social network site. We see the announcements (status updates) such as, "Hey! I just said yes to the man of my dreams!" "Okay, I can finally tell the world that I am going to be a mommy and/ or daddy!" "I am proud to announce the arrival of little baby Jack" "Jack turned one-year-old today!" We get to experience these mile stones with the people we grew up together with, and for that I am appreciative for social networking sites. Even if I haven't seen an old friend for quite some time, I still feel like I am part of his or life, because I can keep in touch through these sites. I also think these sites make time fly by. It seems that I say, "Happy Birthday!" to someone through Facebook, and then it doesn't feel like any time has passed, and I am saying "Happy Birthday!" to the same person again. It is a funny thing, that Facebook, but I think it is brillant, unless of course you are a 15-year-old.

I got my nose pierced the other day. Random, yes. I like it. It hurt, though. I was in no way prepared for such agony. Now, I am dramatic, but this was painful, more painful than anything I had ever experienced. I wanted my nose pierced ever since I can remember. I love little diamond studs. So on Thursday, I thought, hell I am 30--If I still want one---what the hell.? I told myself I would call a salon and try to get an appointment, if there was an opening (that same day) then it would be a sign and it was meant to be--and what do you know? The lady had an appointment that day. So, I go to this place and I checked in with the receptionist who announced to everyone getting their hair colored that I was going to get my nose pierced. An older lady rolled her eyes! Anyways, I waited for my turn and the lady who was going to pierce my nose came over to me and said it would be a couple of minutes, she needed to finish foiling her client's hair and when the hair of her client was processing she would peirce my nose. I waited my turn. When the hair dresser/nose piercer finished putting aluminum foil in the "eye roller" lady's hair, she announced that she was going to run across the street to get something to drink. I thought, she forgot about me, this is a sign---- I should get out here-- fast. Then she turned around and saw me sitting there and remembered that she was suppose to pierce my nose. She said, "Oh, yeah, I have to pierce a nose first." You can imagine how this made me feel. Anyways, she took me back into a tiny room and asked," Now where is the sterilized equipment?" I think my eyes bugged out at that point. She found what she was looking for; and before I could say another word, or get another thought in, she had put a clamp in my nostril (somehow, I still don't know what that was all about) and BAM! she had stabbed me. Slowly the room went black-- I don't think I was out for long. The next thing I knew I was holding a bloody tissue and I was trying to pay for my new accessory --with women with tin-foil in their hair watching me, I wrote a check--- re-wrote a check---and then re-wrote a check again, I got out of the place. Long story short--my nose is pierced. I am really "finding" myself at age 30. My dad is not thrilled....I told him over the phone, he said, "Well don't be surprised if I gag every time I look at you.

Church

I went to church on Sunday with my parents and my kids. My mom had called me and asked if I wanted to go with her and my father. She told me to call her at ten if I was planning on attending. I decided that since church was at 10:45 there was no reason I couldn't get the kids and myself ready. Now, with my ADD it is hard for me to get through a sermon with out forgetting to listen. I do catch most of the lesson that pastor does for the kids in the congregation (when the kids go to the altar). Go figure. Anyways, the pastor was talking to the kids about the "voice" they hear. And that this voice they hear (especially) when they are afraid or need to make a choice-- is the voice of God. This really hit home for me, because I often have voices in my head. No not those types of voices, not the voices telling me that there are microphones in my house recording everything I say. I often hear God talking to me. I can ask him a question (usually I ask it in my head) and I will get an answer. And often those answers make me feel better. Something has been weighing heavily on me lately and I swear that when I asked God about this particular situation (again), God said, "I will tell you my answer, but you never listen to me, I am starting to feel like a broken record." God is right. God often gives me great advice, and for a moment right after God has spoken, I feel better, I feel relieved. However, the next day or night the same "problems" re-occur. I am going to keep asking and I am going to keep listening---I am glad God is so patient.

At the church service I got the giggles. I get the giggles very easily--even in the most inappropriate times. During one of the readings, the woman reading the scripture kept repeating a specific word. I could have handled this word one or even three times, but not 14 times. Here it goes the word was...fornication...sorry--but that word makes me uncomfortable--and after the fourth time the woman said it, I actually laid down in the pew and covered my face--I did glance up at my mother who looked horrified that her 30-year-daughter was acting like a 13-year-old. After I pulled myself together (still laying on the pew) it took me awhile to get the courage up to actually pull myself upright. After I sat up and carefully glanced around the congregation hall and saw that no one was looking at me I felt better. My mother also gave me the look of horror when I asked her when communion was (she knows I look forward to the wine) I know I should probably drink the grape juice--but I prefer the wine--and God told me (he really did) that it is okay for me to drink the wine on Sundays as long as I don't sneak behind the alter and drink the whole bottle. I also enjoyed this Sunday's prayers--I always enjoy the prayers (when we all stand and someone from our church says the prayers). This week I appreciated the prayers even more than usual. We prayed (a woman from our congregation led the prayer) that people would no longer be discriminated against for their race, their culture, and wait for it......their sexual orientation. This is huge for me. I got goose bumps when this sweet older lady said this--as this is something I pray for regularly. I love my church.

Eerie

Wow- I got some great feed back from my previous post. It is nice to know that I am not alone when I speak of my quest for happiness. I think that even though I suffer from time to time with depression, the fact that I am aware of this, I can embrace it and know that it is part of me. When I was 19 I didn't like myself. I hated myself. I hated everything about myself. I look back at me. I look back and see "that" me sitting against a wall crying. I remember feeling very alone. This was part of the reason I loved alcohol so much. As soon as I started to feel that warm feeling I could forget about hating myself. I could forget about all of the asses who "I thought" were so cruel. I often wonder what my life would have been like if I had not been so dependent on alcohol. I wonder if I would have actually went to school instead of sleeping the day away. What would I have become? I do know that if I had been a great student and didn't drink and repeatedly get caught by my friends the cops, that I would not have been forced to move back home. I would not have met my now husband and I would not be Keyton, Hal, and Owen's mommy.

Right now my community-- as well as many communities close by are feeling the affects of the loss of a small town's high school teacher. This woman went out for a morning jog--at 6:30 am and never returned home. There had been a massive search and the outcome was tragic. I am shook up. I think everyone in the area is shook up. It is like we all knew something like this was going to happen---with the dramatic change within the area. I am happy to know that the people most likely responsible for this have been caught, but it doesn't take away from the loss that so many are feeling. There are still a lot of questions that we need answered. All we can do is be careful. The environment we are living is unsafe. It is eerie--this place my friends, family and myself call home is uncomfortable. I am disturbed and I keep thinking not only about this women's family but the citizens in her community--especially her students.

Unconditional Love

Writing has not been on my list of things to do these days. Aside from working, going to school, and taking care of three little people, two big people (Jesse and myself), and one little dog, I just can't juggle it all. I'm not good at multitasking. In fact, in the short few months that I have not written, I went to work at a hospital as a registered nurse, I was determined to become a labor and delivery nurse. It took me only a few short weeks to understand that I was no where prepared for such a commitment. I decided to work on a medical surgical unit in hopes that it would be a better fit. However, it took me only another few short weeks to understand that those 12 hour shifts are not right for me in any environment (at the moment). So, I decided I would go work at a clinic. I was all ready, I had given the hospital the required 3o day notice and was already on the clinic's schedule, before I understood I wasn't in the position to work at the clinic either. All of this hit me ( not wanting to work as a nurse) when I woke up in the middle of the day after having just worked a 12 hour night shift and decided that I needed a day job, that would well...not scare the hell out of me. I woke up put in my contacts and went down town in search of a job. I made a phone call and ended up at an old building in down town Williston. I got the name of a guy I used to hang out with when I was younger and found out that he works for a company that was looking for some help. I walked into his company and I went up to a desk where a pretty girl was sitting and I said, "I am here to talk to my old friend." She asked for my name. I felt stupid, so I said I was just an old friend and I just needed to speak with my old buddy for a minute or two. She went to see if this person was busy and she came back and said he was in deed busy, but she would leave a message for him. I left my name and number and embarrassed, I walked out of the building. A few minutes later my cell phone rang. It was him ( the old friend) and I had an interview the next morning at 8:30 am after my night shift at the hospital was over. I worked all night, came home and again put my contacts in and put on some interview type clothes and met with the boss man (not my old friend, but my old friend's boss man) and I was offered a job. I had no idea what this job was, I researched the company a little and I found out that I was going to be working at a trucking company. I am now employed at a trucking company. I had my first day today. I have my own office with a spectacular view of a funeral home, which is located across the street! I have my own desk and places to put pictures and I have a one hour lunch break. I have my own phone, although I don't know the number that one would have to dial to reach me, and there are a bunch of names on the phone that I do not recognize. I learned how to do these fancy things called invoices. In fact my new title is Invoice specialist. I went from "Registered Nurse Sarah" to "Invoice Specialist Sarah" all in just a matter of weeks. I must say it is going to be an adjustment. I do think that it is going to be a great fit for me. I love being a nurse, I love it so much that at the moment I know I can't be the best nurse I can be, I can't swing it. After a night shift, I would come home and lay my head down on my table and sob. I would sob because I didn't get to bring my kids to school, I would sob because I would have to sleep away half of the day. I have many friends who love those 12 hour shifts, because that means they work three days and then they have a bunch of days off in a row--I would like that too if my husband would come home every night. I like having a job because my husband does not come home at five and when I am home alone with three children for 24 hours straight, depression sets in. A dark cloud finds me and then I can not see. I like the routine. I am lucky that Owen has a daycare where the workers are more than fantastic. They love O and O loves them. I am lucky that my kids want to go to school--they love to see their friends and they actually beg me to take them too school before school starts. I actually think they just like to eat the school's breakfast because my cooking is not so good. So here is to 2012. May I find peace and fill my soul with happiness. Happiness has always been a struggle for me. I have bad genes. After all, my grandfather committed suicide when I was only one-years-old. I have always struggled to fill a hole in my soul. People are always telling me to focus on all the good in my life. That is an easy thing for people to say when they have never suffered the effects of depression. That is an easy thing to say when they don't have that hole in their soul. Believe me, I have done odd things to fill that hole in my soul. I have tried herbal therapy, not really that odd, but sort of risky being that I am already on an antidepressant. I have asked everyone I know for advice, only to find out that they can't give me the answers that I am looking for, because they don't know what a hole in the soul feels like. No, nothing in particular has caused my depression---besides some messed up biochemical elements that circulate at the rate of a turtle. I am not the kind of person that holds back. If I am sad, believe me, everyone around me knows. I will tell them--I will say, " Hey there, I am depressed today, I am sad.". Most people get uncomfortable with this. This is when they say things like, "well, focus on all of the good things you have in your life." Really??? As if it were that easy you humans! I do know one thing that my dramatic personality can do and that is push away ones that I love. I love hard, and with that comes pain. If I am hurt I tend to tell EVERYONE who will listen to me. This is not always a good trait. Sometimes, I trust people with things that I shouldn't. I will tell them how I am feeling and they will not....no they cannot empathize and since they can't empathize they will cut me out completely. I am lucky I have a best friend---Husband. He for some reason always listens to me. Although, he can't empathize with me most of the time, he puts up with me and loves me anyways. Unconditional love---is what I value the most in this universe. Unconditional. So again to 2012, may I continue to fill that hole in my soul--and to unconditional love.