Long Overdue Updates... My Christmas in Vegas/Cali and More

I went to Vegas for Christmas and all I got was this:

If you read The Bloggess at all, you're also thinking, "Knock, Knock ****** ******!!"(See my recommended blogs, to the right.)

Vegas was... interesting. Definitely not like any other place I've ever been.  A strange mix of the Great Gatsby and well... brown. 

Things like:

Surrounded by:

Sean did take me to Freemont Street to see the light display and all of the "unique" people, but all in all, Vegas was just a weird place.  All the lights, the hotels... it's just trying SO hard.  And it's surrounded by... nothing!!!

After a day in Vegas, we piled in a teeny rental car with Sean's daughter Ryiah, and made the seven-hour trek to his parents home in  Fresno.  Through the desert.  For seven hours.  I was really glad to start seeing farmland!

Ryiah was SO good the whole time, until about 6 1/2 hours in, when she pulled at her car seat and said, "DAAAAAD, I just can't STAND it anymore!" He told her that we couldn't either and that this trip was stinky.   And he was right... a barrage of pig and cow farms in the last hour of the trip really stunk up the drive.

We spent Christmas in Fresno, which was nice and quiet, even without snow.  We didn't make it to Yosemite, but I'm hopeful that I'll get to cross that off my list next time! 

After another quick day in Vegas, we came home to Kentucky with Ryiah in tow.  We had so much fun with her for the better part of three weeks!  She is a daddy's girl for sure, but she and I had some fun too, especially when it came to girly and crafty things:

Mad Potter kept Ry entertained for almost three hours.  A welcome break for her dad!

Yes, that's HOMEMADE playdough.  In four colors. I'm awesome.

Glow sticks in the bath.  This was FASCINATING to her! We had to pull her out of the tub!



And thanks to Pinterest, I'm already full of fun ideas for her next visit! 

We stayed on the go with trips to Monkey Joes, Newport Aquarium, and more, but by far the funniest and my favorite was taking her to ice skate in downtown Lexington.  She was immediately determined to do it BY. HER. SELF. and didn't want Sean or me to touch her AT ALL.  One terrifying hour later she felt like she had accomplished something and Sean and I were exhausted, but proud!

Daddy and his Boo Boo outside of Newport Aquarium, saying hello to Cincinnati.

Ryiah also had a big time with our dog Cassie, better known as "Dumb Old Passie."  Passie seemed terrified, but kept coming back for more.

"Passie is pretty!"

Ten pound dog.  Twenty-eight pound kid.
You do the math.

All in all, it was a crazy and wonderfully fun holiday.  Now, before the end of January, I will finally buy some curtains and new lamps.  And spend a lot of time in the sauna that we FINALLY have working.  And sleep. Alot.

Where the Streets Have No Name

I just saw the trailer for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  First, what rock have I been under that I missed this novel?  Second, I cannot wait to see how this story unfolds. 

A lot of things are making me think about my papa lately, and this movie definitely did.  It's just starting to really sink in that he's not going to be there the next time I go home for a visit, and that I won't be able to call him after Big Blue Madness to talk about the new freshman class of Cats.  But my goodness, didn't we have a full life of love with him? When so many people have their time with loved ones cut short, I certainly have nothing to complain about. 

I'm wishing that I knew more about papa, that I knew more about what he thought about the world around him. It's hard to imagine how much the world changed over the course of his life, but I'm not sure I ever  really knew his perception of it all.  Of course, that was also just papa.  Nothing truly got to him, bothered him, got him riled up or upset.  Couldn't we all use a dose of his temperment and peacefulness! 

I'm so grateful that his cancer was not long-suffering.  I'm trying to forget the difficult memories of his sickness, and cling to the last good day I had with him. 

I left work a little early to take a quick evening trip to Somerset to visit.  It was a few days after his brain surgery and he was doing really good.  When I arrived, everyone was out of his room and the curtains were closed.  I was worried... but he was just getting ready to go for his evening lap around the hospital floor.  That's right--this man who had just had brain surgery days before was up and walking around!

His cheeks were pink and his face was warm with his usual smile when he came out of his room with the nurse.  "Well Amos, what are you doing here?" he asked.  "I'll be back in a minute," he said.

A second nurse came to grab his arm, but my mom suggested that I walk with him.

"Come on papa, let's go to the prom," I said, hooking my elbow with his. 

"Now, it's been a while since I've done any dancing," he replied.

We started the lap around the hospital floor and he took off like he was walking for real exercise and not just for post-op therapy! 

"My Amos is teaching at Georgetown," he told the nurse.  Well, he told her twice actually... but that was just the brain tumor.  Nothing was going to stop how proud he was of his girls and nothing made me happier to hear him say.

He flirted with all the nurses as we walked by, and told me several times how wonderful they all were. I wish he could have stayed on that floor the whole time he was sick.  He felt safe there and they were SO good to him.  I think they liked being around him even more than he liked them!

After our little walk, I hung out in his room while he took a nap--or faked taking a nap, that is.  Mom whispered that the whole day, he would NOT shut up.  He'd close his eyes, and we'd go on talking, only to catch him smiling or chuckling at something we said.  Sometimes he'd scare the daylights out of us by suddenly chiming into a conversation when we thought he was long asleep.  I left that day when he was finally dosing off, but that smile was still on his face.  I don't know if he was really asleep or not.

He was wearing that same smile the day we buried him.

It's a tough time of year because this is when papa would normally started getting fired up for basketball season.  It's been really hard on my mom, but I'm trying really hard to imagine the questions papa has already peppered Adolf Rupp, Bill Keightley, and Cawood Ledford with up in heaven.  Something tells me him and Whiter have front row season tickets to all the games this year. 

And while papaw was the most humble Christian man I will ever know, I certainly hope the Good Lord cheers for the Cats.  Papa would certainly hate to cheer against God if he's Tennessee fan...

Homework...

I'm long overdue on an update with the new house!

Lots of work has been going on... mostly in the paint department.  Here's some quick before and afters:

The upstairs bathroom is beautiful... and all white.  So, a little coat of paint brightened things up. Hard to tell because the photos are a little dar but you get the general idea. (P.S.--painting the bathroom was NOT fun!)

Unfortunately I forgot to take photos of the den (or as Sean would have it, the man cave).  We had no furniture, but needed to create a TV room and office area, so a few purchases were made!  The room was also a bit dingy as the walls, tirm, and ceiling were various shades of very deep, yellowish cream.  It made the room very dark.

So, first things first, I painted the ceiling (again, NOT fun!) and all the trim a crisp white. It really changed the whole atmosphere of the room!

You can also see the fresh, bright trim in this picture of our new couch and ottoman!  Sean wasa determined to get a set of crazy red leather furniture, but I won that fight  (without pitching a fit in the store. Same cannot be said for the day we tried to buy curtains). 

I also bought a new desk... sort of.  It came in about 7,000 pieces.

It was so complicated that Sean actually read through the directions!

After three hours... the finished product:

Last but not least: the kitchen.  I lived with the baby blue kitchen for a month, but this weekend I decided that enough was enough. The color is just not me, and it's driving me crazy.  So begins the process of painting the kitchen an Eddie Bauer paint shade called "pine needles."

So far so good, but there's a long way to go!

The list of projects is SO long, but I'm enjoying every second of making this house home!

This Old House...

Much of my crazy this summer has been rooted in the search for my first house. After looking at dozens of homes with my fabulous realtor Meredith Lane, I ended up buying the second house I looked at, on our first day of hunting (sorry Meredith for dragging you all over town!).  And here it is!

(And no, this isn't Alice in Wonderland with huge keys to a tiny door!)

I have moved three times in the past three years, so I'm really looking forward to staying in one place for a looooong time.  And I LOVE my house!

My friends and family were so sweet to celebrate with me immediately. Allyson and Sheri came by with a bottle of champagne...

And my parents drove up Saturday to check out my new digs (and thanks dad for finding my interior water valve before KY American Water shows up Monday!).

Things I have learned in my first few days of ownership:

1) Moving sucks.  Wait, already knew that one.
2) Big trees = big sticks in the yard. I spent 30 minutes getting huge branches out of my front yard this morning after last night's storm!  I'm saving the back yard clean up for Sean.
3) Painting is the greatest workout ever.  I'm more exhausted and sore than I have been in months.  Ok, maybe it's not such a great workout and I'm just out of shape!
4) Gray paint looks like peachy vomit when its wet and next to baby blue.  A few minutes of panic...

In my biased opinion, I think my house is adorable, but there were a few things that had to go IMMEDIATELY.  Number one on the list:  blue paint that looks great in the kitchen but not so great in the foyer... living room... hallway... and bedroom.  Too much blue!  So my first two days in the new house were consumed with making all that blue disappear:




Living Room Before



Scary, vomit-colored wet paint....



And after! (no longer looking like puke)

North Carolina-blue in the foyer...



Warn gray after!



Blue, blue, blue and more blue in the hallway



Much better!

 Next up on the list: the all-white bathroom upstairs.  White tile will stay (this is NOT a major home renovation!) but it's getting a pretty shade of light green paint to warm things up a bit.

Side note: super apologies to my wonderful friend and bride-to-be, Marilee Meyers.  I poured out a gallon of paint and then realized there was no way I could finish using it in time for her bridal shower today.  But in ever-so-gracious style, she was completely understanding.  I hope she had a FANTASTIC day and can't wait to see her as a bride next month! XOXO Marilee!

I realize this is not the most meaningful or entertaining post, but it's SO exciting to me! There really is nothing like having a home and knowing that it is YOURS.  I can't wait to fill it with my furniture, things, friends and memories!

Now that the house is mine and moving is underway, maybe tomorrow I can actually get my syllabus for Comm. 215 at Georgetown finished.  And go to Human Resources to set up my employment details.  And clean the apartment. And take Cassie to the groomers.  And finish putting listings on the Travel Kentucky app.  And send out the Kentucky Monthly newsletter...

Suddenly I'm tired and overwhelmed again! 

Waiting

I will always remember the day that Amy Winehouse died, because it's the same day that we found out my grandfather would have to fight a battle with brain cancer that he can't win. 

And somehow, Saturday morning, Amy Winehouse's death was a comfort to me.  Why? Well, I knew in that moment that at least my papa would live through his surgery.  There was no way God was going to put such a wonderful man side by side with a skinny crack addict at the Pearly Gates.  Come on. Can you imagine how that conversation would go?  I see papa giving her the once over and asking "what are you in for? do you think we should knock?"

But yet the day did not go how any of us would have hoped.  Not at all.

My papa is the sweetest, most jolly, most gentle man I know.  His smile and his laugh fill a room, and just being around him puts you at peace and at ease.  He's just a happy guy.  And he should be a saint; anyone who can bear three generations of nothing but women and keep his sanity for 76 years deserves a special place in the Lord's House. 

He comes from a generation of men that are never going to be replaced in this world.  He comes from a community that is fading away. They are group of people from Ferguson who all know the same phrases--they're all "azzling around" everywhere they go.  He's from a childhood of running around farms, throwing corn cob husks so fiercely that they leave the dents of the kernels in the other boy's back (Hayden Waddle can personally attest to that!).  He's from a time when his dad could come home with a goat sitting in the front seat after a night of gambling (and we're still not sure if the goat was part of his winnings or losings)! 

I often forget that he, with his brother Max, built a business that has sustained our family for 60 years.  That he handed over to my father because he had no son of his own to pass it to--and my dad has always been like a son to him.  I forget that he was a handsome man in his day (and still is), even though I have the picture of him working in the lab as a young man, white t-shirt rolled up, hair slicked back looking young and vibrant  and mischievious and a little like Ryan Gosling in The Notebook. 

There's so much we don't know.  That maybe we will never know.  About who he was as a brother, a husband, a man, before the kids, before the grandkids and the great grandkids.   We have all kinds of stories--because he tells them well and laughs at himself the whole time like he's sharing it for the first time!  But how well do we every really know the people we love?

To me, he's just papa.  And he always has been.  He's been a constant in my life, always there, no matter how much I have cared to spend time with him... or not. And of course now we all wish we had more time.  In a family of two daughters, four granddaughters, and two great-granddaughters, some how we all feel like we are "papa's girls."  We all have a different relationship with him--that's obvious.  And yet each of us have our own special "thing" with him... our own unique and secret bond that makes each of us feel like he loves us the most.  Which of course isn't true because he loves us all in his own way and has somehow loved each of us year after year, never fading in the love he has to give.

Over the past few days, I have been humbled and honored to see that he didn't just love us; there are so many people in our lives that he has shared friendship, fellowship, and kinship with.  And those people, in return, have poured that love back to him and us in return.  Family, friends, member of his church--all have come to stand beside his family in a time of need.  Even if there's nothing that they can do to help, they are offering up their solidarity, compassion, and love. 

And it is humbling to see that those people love the same things about this man that his family does; his laugh, his smile, his warm hello, and his love for the daily pleasures in life; a good cup of coffee, a morning drive to "azzle" around and visit friends and family, and a Sunday morning with the men in Sunday school.

It is not fair.  There is not a man who deserves the things that lay ahead less than my papa does.  There is not a man who deserves less to be threatened with the loss of his speech, his memory, his laugh, his dignity.  And yet I cannot think of a man more capable of meeting the path that God has chosen for him with more grace, more composure, more peace.  Dad said that papa has always said "when it's your time, it's your time."  None of us are ready for this to be his time.  And we don't know how much he has.  It may be a few months; with his attitude and some radiation, maybe a little more... maybe a little less.

It is a fight that he has to fight knowing that he cannot win.  And we have to watch it knowing just how much we are most assured to lose.  But he has been responsible for giving this family a wonderful life. And I know that we will find the strength to stand by, spend time, and wait out this final journey for as long as it takes.  I only hope we can keep smiling his smile, laughing his laugh, and finding comfort in his peace.

This Ain't No HGTV!

Does anyone remember the really, REALLY old House Hunters shows where they actually told you how mnay houses the people had looked at along the way?  When they pulled up into the driveway and the CG at the bottom of the screen would say "House 2" or "House 8" or "House 5,421"? 

Yeah, those need to come back.  Becuase the three houses and oh one is perfect! crap that is on today is misleading.

I have been casually house hunting for much of the year, but the pressure of a lease ending a need to put in my notice to vacate has made things official.  So, with the guidance of my fabulous realtor Meredith Lane (check out her blog Home and Nom!), we set off through the streets of Lexington to find my perfect house.

Now, I will admit, I'm not an easy customer.  I gave her many specifics, including a fireplace, fenced backyard, and an extra "den" space or basement. 

Little did I know how hard it was going to be!  We have seen: great houses in crappy neighborhoods, crappy houses in great neighborhoods, crappy houses in crapp neighborhoods, and so so houses in ok neighborhoods.  We have seen beautiful fireplaces, great backyards, nasty tubs, cheap laminate.  And there have been some funny moments too! 

I have quickly learned that the old addage of location location location really is true.  Lexington real estate is hard to target, especially in newer areas of town.  It is scary to buy in a new area because you have no idea if that subdivision is going to be run down in a few years.  I look at so many communities that were "new" when I was in college... and now they look gross!  I can't get stuck in one of those places!

So, we have struck on a house in an older, established neighborhood.  And it's an older house.  It will need some updates in a few years, but for now a little paint and fixtures will go a long way.  Most of the major things have been updated.  I went through it again today with Sean and it passed his inspection...

So... I might make an offer! Stay tuned!

Who's Going to Show Them?

"asdfjkl; return"

There are generations of Somerset High School graduates who know exactly who said that and why.  And I know to credit that phrase for much of my career success to the teacher who said it over, and over, and over.

Mrs. Vanhook taught keyboarding, and every freshman at Somerset High School was required to take it.  Because of that one class, I was able to finish tests and papers on deadline in college, write scripts for newscasts seconds before they needed to hit the air, and type press releases as fast as my brain could come up with the words. 

My co-workers laugh at how fast--and aggressively, they say--I type.  But just as thankful as I am that I can write and communicate clearly, I know that my ability to type efficiently has been a key factor in getting ahead.

And guess what? They don't teach that class at Somerset anymore.

Do they teach it anywhere?

Do kids even use real, fully-spelled out words anymore?

Who's going to teach them? Who's going to even tell them they need to know how? And will they listen?

Someone commented to me recently that school today is not so much about a child's ability to retain, absorb, and recall information; rather, it's an exercise in researching and finding sources successfully.  Between Google, academic search engines and practically everything available via cell phone, how can you make the case that memorizing facts, history, math and knowledge is even necessary anymore?

Who's going to teach them? Do they need to be taught?

I went to get my oil changed last Sunday, and Sean said to me "have them run your transmission fluids while you are there."  I asked why.  "Because," he said matter-of-factly, "you have 60,000 miles on your car."

How did he know that?  I knew how many miles were on my car, but had it been left to me I never would have known anything NEEDED to be done to my transmission.  No one ever told me.

People used to work harder to learn--by experience, by trial and error.  My mom spent years trying to make my mamaw's mashed potatoes until one day she noticed the secret: put the potatoes back on the stove after you drain the water to cook off the little bit of water that remains.  She watched, she learned, she was shown how.

My dad has built his entire career from the bottom up at his lab, learning along the way, getting certifications, and managing his business well.

Some days I barely feel like I know how to keep my house clean! And at least I recognize that there are so many things you just can't learn without experience--or at least someone showing you the way, and why it is important to know.

So... years from now... who's going to show them? Is there going to be anything left to show? Will anyone even bother making homemade mashed potatoes anymore?  And does it matter?