Getting older every day...

Last week was the boy's thirtieth birthday. I'll let that sink in a moment.

30!!!

I remember back in the day, while playing with barbie dolls and EZ bake ovens, thinking that surely when I was thirty I would have the whole world figured out. There would be no stress, no complications, no hard decisions. Knowledge is power, and certainly by thirty I would know everything there is to know. Also, I figured that the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and arthritis would be setting in because, damn, thirty is old!!

He didn't seem to feel much older, or to be bothered by the milestone, so we headed up to celebrate with dear friends in Las Vegas.

Brandon and Kim have been good friends of Corey's for years now, and upon meeting them I immediately felt that I'd known them forever as well. I know that I can be a bit standoffish towards new people and I have high standards for friends, but to know these two is to love them so we are sure to have a good time when we see them.

Quietly, I was hoping that we wouldn't need a repeat performance of last year which involved copious amounts of whiskey and beer (on the boy's part, not mine) and sitting at the blackjack tables until dawn, but I was prepared to honor Corey's birthday wishes whatever they involved.

Thankfully, his age must have kicked in somewhere during the last year and we enjoyed the weekend without much debauchery. We played with Chase (the world's cutest baby), went shopping, played (and watched in my case) enough Tiger Wood's golf to qualify for some kind of Playstation tournament, and ate at Hubert Keller's burger restaurant to celebrate. We did hit the tables for a while on Saturday night, and then ventured to seedy Fremont street on our way out of town to play some roulette, but all in all the gambling was a secondary point in the trip.

When we got home to celebrate his actual birthday my parents showed me up by buying the boy a new driver that he'd been lusting after since seeing it featured in last month's golf digest, but he also got a new golf bag, some golf clothes, a sand wedge...notice a theme?

I think he enjoyed himself, and I know that he handled the milestone much better than I will in a few years!

Updates

I don't have anything particularly interesting to post, but I hate the idea of having a blog and letting it sit idle 90% of the time. Most people I know understand that my life (and most others) is a series of monotonous events punctuated by the occasional excitement - so don't begrudge me a boring post now and then.

We are moved into our new place and even though we still have the small annoyance that we're renting, we are in love with it. The owners are considering selling, so there is a small chance we'll purchase it in a year, but if not I will enjoy cooking in my enormous new kitchen for the next 11 1/2 months. It truly is wonderful to have sunlight and space and GRASS, none of which we had at our previous residence. I have also yet to hear and see the ghetto bird circling my backyard with its spotlight beaming, so that is an additional plus.

This is the boy's last week in the job he's been doing for the past nine plus years and I know he's a bit melancholy about it. Ten years ago he was just a small town boy who wanted more out of life and thought it would be cool to work on F-16s. Now he's in the middle of a promising career and will be training the future crew chiefs of the air force and making a difference in their lives just like his instructors did for him. I know he'll be amazing at it and this is just another step to getting where he wants to go in the military, but I am definitely going to miss him for five weeks while he goes to instructor training in Texas!

We are taking baby steps towards finding a real medical diagnosis for what's going on with me, and I'm happy to be going in the right direction. The tests aren't generally fun, but I feel like I have doctors that are listening to me and taking my concerns seriously, which is a welcome relief. It appears that I may well have a systemic pain problem, but these are quite hard to diagnose correctly and I am not intersted in a doctor labeling me just to get me out of his office and medicated, so it is involving quite a lot of research and questions and requests on my part. I'm hoping that if I do in fact have the problem that they think I might, that I am able to be definitively diagnosed by a specialist and we can move on to treatment. What a thought!

If I could think of anything else remotely resembling intersting information I would write it, but this is where the monotonous part comes in. Sometimes the day to day stuff is nice though right? It could always be much worse...

The price of personal integrity

I used to believe in karma. I thought that when you were a good person who made good choices and affected the world in a positive way you would be repaid in kind. Maybe not tit for tat, but certainly that the world or universe or higher power would see your good deeds and pave your way a little.

My mom taught me the golden rule and I bought into the theory. Treat others as you'd want to be treated. Sounds fair, right? If you are nice to people, they will be nice to you back.

But wait, that's not the moral of the story at all, is it? The rule of karma doesn't talk about the payout, we just interject that of our own accord because we think that's what is fair and just.

Unfortunately, the world is not fair and just at all. The world is full of givers and takers at a ratio of 1:10. Takers rarely see their ways from outside themselves and become givers, and givers rarely sell their personal integrity to become takers. So, are we destined upon birth to become one or the other, and sentenced to a life within that role? Because I was brought up to believe that I am blessed and I should help those around me that are less fortunate, does that mean that they are fated to have things I cannot?

I know this all sounds very bitter, and truthfully I feel bitter about it on many occasions. I feel bitter when I see people take advantage of programs that were not designed to help them simply because they feel they deserve material things more than others. I feel bitter when I see the local adoption agencies struggle for funds because they have more unwanted and uncared for children than they can take care of. I feel bitter when I donate extra money to the electric company to help those who can't pay their bills only to hear that the people who can't pay their bills are in that predicament because their air conditioner is set at 65 degrees or their jacuzzi heater is on high.

The problem is that there are also those that are truly in need. There are mothers who cannot feed their children, not because they pay too much for cigarettes and booze, but because they were laid off or left an abusive relationship. There are veterans who are disabled and homeless, who hold signs at freeway entrances hoping to earn a few coins and purchase another gallon of water. There are dogs, ribs sticking through their skin, left chained in backyards to die in the heat because their owners left them when they moved.

They deserve to be takers. And the people that are giving deserve to be able to gift things knowing that they will make it to the hands of these who are truly needy.

The price of my personal integrity is high as of late and as much as I'd like to cut and run at times I fear that I'm a lost cause at this point. We could stop all of our contributions and live an easier life, but would I be able to lay my head down on my pillow and not see the faces of those I could have helped haunting me?

The food at restaurants doesn't taste as good when you know that there are those going hungry in your neighborhood, and a new pair of shoes puts you in excruciating pain when the man on the corner has holes in his soles.

So, it is better to be a taker? Is ignorance truly bliss? If you don't see that beggar at all does his plight weigh heavy on your mind?

I struggle with this daily as we decide how we are going to raise our children. Do we set the price of their personal integrity so high that they will wish they had been raised to be takers? Will my children resent that they don't have some of the same things that their friends have simply because we believe in giving and saving?

And, can givers even raise takers? When I look at the people I know they are definitely products of their upbringing and often turn out exactly as their parents are. So, do I sentence my children to a life of being caring and contributing, but also being confused as to why their friends are carefree with their ignorance and government checks?

How do you raise children that are both conscionable and happy, as it sometimes seems that these traits are mutually exclusive?

Moliere, one of my favorite writers of all time said, "Every good act is charity. A man's true wealth hereafter is the good that he does in this world to his fellows."

I hope he was right.

There's good news and there's bad news...

It's finally official and I can announce our good news to the world: Corey got the job he interviewed for and he will now be an instructor for the Air Force which comes with a 4-5 year committment to keep us stationed at Luke!

I'm not a HUGE fan of Phoenix, but it is nice to have peace of mind that we won't be transferred to somewhere random, Corey won't be deployed to the desert, and we won't be separated for a long period of time (other than his training course of six weeks which is coming up soon). Corey is also excited that my family will be close when we start a family as he thinks I'll be a neurotic mom.

The only downside to this announcement is that it came ONE day after we signed a lease to rent another home close to base. We love the house and will enjoy living in it, but had we known that we would be here for at least a few years we would have been looking at buying a house instead of renting again.

I know that it's probably not that prohibitive as it's going to take us a LOOONG time to choose a house to buy (we're very picky) and we wouldn't have wanted to stay in our current house much longer, but I hate the idea of living in someone else's house when we don't have to.

In less exciting news, I have a new doctor and I'm hoping that he will be able to help me treat whatever is going on with me. Unfortunately, I've spent the last two years suffering from various areas of pretty intense pain and at some point I have to wonder whether it's more than bad luck and something more systematic. I'm not "that girl" that's always sick, and I live a pretty healthy life, so the fact that I'm always in pain is pretty upsetting. I'd really like to have my life back, so if you could send me some good vibes I would appreciate it!

...make lemonade.

We all know what you're supposed to do when life gives you lemons, but what do you do if you ARE a lemon? Or, as Corey asked me yesterday, "Are you sure your parents aren't first cousins?"

While I am quite certain that my parents are not blood relations, I do believe my mom must have imbibed some wonky cough syrup a few too many time while incubating me 27 years ago.

The inflammation in my pericardial sac has been quite stubborn, so I went for a follow up to my cardiologist to see what our next course of action is. He scheduled an echo cardiogram to get a view of my heart without ripping me open and found something rather interesting. I suffer from a congenital heart defect known as Patent Foramen Ovale, or more commonly referred to as a hole in my heart. As much as 20% of us are born with a membrane not yet closed in our hearts, but in most people it heals when we are very small - either naturally or due to medication or surgery. Unfortunately, mine did not.

The leak in my heart is small, and he is confident that not only does it have nothing to do with my current inflammation, but also that nothing needs to immediately be done about it.

Later in life if I develop problems like arrhythmia or palpitations, they will surgically repair it. It does put me at higher risk for stroke and causes migraines (which I suffer from) so I can elect to have the surgery now, but I think we will handle things one at a time.

In other (and much more exciting) news the boy is being promoted! For those of you that aren't familiar, the military world doesn't work the way the civilian world does as far as promotions go. There is a massive points system in place that decides who gets promoted and when, and it is based on a number of things - the largest percentage of points being assigned to a test that rivals the SATs. Last year he missed being promoted by a heartbreaking 3 points, but this year we celebrated at 6 in the morning when we found his name on the list for Tech Sargeant! Unfortunately since he is pretty young for this position, he will be one of the later people promoted (somewhere between 8-10 months from now), but it will make a huge difference in his day to day duties and we couldn't be more excited. We may also soon have another exciting Air Force announcement to make, but will wait until it is made official.

This weekend we will make our traditional 4th of July trek up the mountain to see the fireworks with my parents, and I am excited to have 4 full days to hang out with my husband rather than our normal rushed weekend.

We hope everyone else has a great long weekend and stays safe too!

The day the third baseman broke my heart

In psychology they teach you that your world view is cemented by the age of six. In my case, my professional sports view was also in place by an early age. I’ve been a Dallas Cowboys fan for as long as I can remember, and a Braves fan for almost as long as that.

It was hard not to be a Braves fan as a pre-teen girl when you saw David Justice come up to bat. The proverbial bad boy, there was an edge to him (you don’t have to tell that to Halle Barry) that made him seem dark, mysterious, and dreamy. Winning homeruns in the 1995 Championship and all over the news at the same time for his drama off the field made him seem as Danny Zucco-ish as could be. At the same time there was his counterpoint; the good boy to his bad: Chipper Jones. I always liked Chipper Jones when I was a kid, not because he was so cute (although he was) but because he was solid. A great baseball player, a charity volunteer, always smiling with his, “Awww, schucks, I’m just a small town boy” smile.

The days of David Justice passed, but I’m nothing if not loyal so I remained with the Braves through thick and thin. Like the Cowboys, we had some good years together in the 90’s, and Chipper came back year after year as one of the most consistently great baseball players in the league. Even though it wasn’t love at first sight, he grew on me and eventually became my all-time favorite baseball player who could do no wrong. Until last Sunday.

Feeling a little better, I dared to venture out when my Dad called and said he’d managed to snag some amazing tickets to the Diamondbacks/Braves game due to his fantastic marketing contacts. We try to at least make the Braves game every year and I knew I would be furious with myself if I missed it to lie in bed. Had I known what he meant by amazing tickets I would have gone even if I was having a heart attack.

The dugout box. It’s a suite attached to the dugout at field level. It means that I was sitting ten feet away from Chipper Jones, Bobby Cox, and every other member of my favorite franchise. It means that I reached out in front of me and felt the red clay, and looked over my left shoulder and gazed right into the visiting team locker room.

My dad gets amazing tickets all the time, but they’re usually up in the corporate suite level – far away from the action. Generally, I love this. Private bathrooms, catering and waitresses, separate elevators. But this was a different way to view things. Here we were right in the middle of the action. And while the magic of the game of baseball was even more prevalent, the magic surrounding our favorite multi-millionaire baseball players becomes tarnished a little when you’re sitting ten feet away.

After rushing to the team shop to buy a twelve dollar Sharpie, we sat poised to get autographs, talk to the team and basically become best friends with Chipper Jones so he would invite us to summer with he and his wife in Atlanta and go on the road for series’ in Toronto, New York, and Seattle.

Unfortunately, I was in no shape to be yelling to anyone so my darling husband took it upon himself to start the dialogue. Unfortunately again, my handsome husband does not have breasts like the blonde in the twelfth row behind the dugout had so he was, for the most part, ignored. Even after yelling, “Chipper, my wife loves you!!!” loud enough for the entire stadium to snicker, he still couldn’t manage to snag an autograph as Mr. Jones was too busy dipping into his chew can and spitting juice all over the dugout. In the sixth inning stretch Chipper disappeared into the locker room below and never reappeared, not even to shake hands after the game.

Not a total loss, Bobby Cox did toss us a game ball at the end and eventually Corey resigned to leave his post at the suite door, finally deciding that Chipper wasn’t coming back.

Crushed that my baseball boyfriend might not be as perfect and charming as I once thought, I managed to make it home and hit espn.com to see if there was some injury I didn’t know about that was plaguing my star and would cause him to snub the Diamondbacks like LeBron.

Although I did find a toe sprain record, (toe sprain?) I also found an interesting blurb on Wikipedia explaining why Chipper and his first wife got divorced while I was busy pining over David Justice – he had a two year affair with a Hooters waitress that resulted in a child. Who the hell has a two minute, let alone a two YEAR affair with a Hooters waitress? Checking out her assets is one thing, but engaging in a relationship is a completely separate offense even if you’re not married.

After being let down by countless athletes I was sure I had it right this time, but it turns out that it’s harder to find athletes with morals than you’d think. First Tony Romo with Nick Lachey’s sloppy seconds and now this? Devastating.

All I have left to cling to now is the goodness of Kurt Warner and the knowledge that, although unemployed, I do not have the job of cleaning up the dugout after MLB games.

Thank you God.

Not as crazy as everyone thinks.

Just a quick update to those of you that were planning to visit me in a white padded room: You'll have to wait a while longer. It turns out there is actually something physically wrong with me.

Pericarditis is inflammation of the sac surrounding your heart. It often occurs after a viral infection (like I had prior to this all starting), hurts worse when you are reclined, makes you short of breath, and becomes much worse when you breathe deeply or exercise. BINGO.

The diagnosis is simple and could have been made over a week ago if they hadn't decided instead that I was insane, but it's not as simple to fix. Unfortunately, inflammation is cured by anti-inflammatories and they don't exactly work overnight.

Thank you for the prayers if you're sending them my way - I can use all I can get until I start to get some relief.