When It Happens

When it happens, it’ll be scary. It’ll be something that hurts, to do. It WILL take great strength, mentally.

But, it’ll be natural.

It will take great strength because I will fight the natural flow of it happening.

I know I will.

I won’t want it, and it’ll slam into me, without a care for what I think I want.


Something I know I would never search for, or try to replicate, again.

I’ve already had it.

I can’t expect it again.

But when it comes. It’s going to come full force.


Only time will tell, if it even happens.

When your whole body vibrates. When your insides feel like they are floating, hovering, rather than tightly nestled inside. When all you can do is think, imagine, wonder, and hope.

It’s bad.

It’s good.

It’s new.

It’s old.

It’s trouble.

It’s savior.

It’s happiness

It’s sadness.

It’s maddening.

It’s enlightening.

It’s mine to know, and never to share.



So, I find myself unconsciously avoiding pictures of Mitch, posted by our friends or family on social media.

Please don’t get me wrong. I miss the FUCK out of that man. But, those who know us, know that we weren’t the oooey-gooey, mushy kind of social media couple. We didn’t need to be. We were always confident in our love for one another, and didn’t care who knew or didn’t know.

That being said, I am still the same. I’m not posting sad, mushy, posts, not because I don’t feel those feels, because good god I do!

It’s just that I’m sure you all know I hurt, in my own way, and that I miss him, horribly, from the time I wake up, until I go to bed at night.

Now, with all of that said, I can share with you, why I think I avoid the photos, or what really happens to my brain, when someone posts a pic of Mitch, that I may or may not have seen before.

For a blink, I think “OMG! MITCH!” Like he is alive.

But I know that’s not true.

The sense of loss crashes over me, with such force that it causes temporary paralysis. I’m stuck, for a split second, that feels like forever. The pain starts low in my belly, and, like lava, it pushes upward, into and throughout my heart and mind, until I am snot-crying in my car, in front of work.

I forget things, like football (Thanks for reminding me, Chuckles), because I don’t have Mitch constantly talking about football, all day, every day. I mean, he talked about football so much, I started to automatically block his voice, during football season.

I think this month is harder than any other months, for me. On the 18th, he would have been 36. On the 22nd we would have celebrated 18 years, together. That would have been whole adult worth of time!

The thing that I really want to say is this. Do not stop posting your pics of Mitch, when the feeling strikes.

This sense of loss will always be here for me, and sometimes, it’s really good to feel human. A lot of the time, my mind is numb. I race, I workout (when I’m NOT injured), I work, and take care of Meg.

Maybe I keep myself too busy to acknowledge the pain? Sounds like something I would do, without even realizing I am doing it.

Here’s to fantasy football. 2018/2019!

Toxic Humans and Me.

Today, I did something. I deleted and blocked a person from my life, that was toxic, to me. I decided to test the person first. I was right with my suspicions. Even though I know there’s no respect for me from said person, I will respect their privacy, and not share their name. But here goes!

Hello? Who the hell would come at me, expecting to have even the slightest chance at mentally abusing me? Who. The FUCK. do you think I am? Let me spell it out…

I’m the woman who had a rough start at life, being pulled from my parents and put into foster care, in first grade.

I went to 13 different schools, and didn’t graduate.

Lived on my own from age 15-17, couch surfing, and working, trying my damndest to stay alive.

I am the woman who met the man of her dreams, married him, had a baby, and Created a BEAUTIFUL family.

I took my adult ass to get my GED, then went to college, so I could set a better example for my baby girl.

I never gave up on my career. When I wasn’t being respected and given the pay I knew I was worth, for my position, I left.

When I felt as though I wasn’t getting paid my worth at my next job, I applied elsewhere to see what I could be making, and fought for it. I got it.

I am the woman who lost her husband, unexpectedly, on a Wednesday morning, while he was at work, my child at school, and myself too busy to realize he never read my text that morning.

I have been through hell. I walk through hell regularly. I don’t need toxic people in my life, and I WILL remove you.

I am a positive, uplifting, forgiving human. I love people. I love my family, my friends and my career. I believe everyone deserves a second chance.

I ALSO believe my opinion matters. Your opinions matter. Even if I disagree with them, they matter, because they are YOURS!

But know, I don’t fucking play.

“You’re Not Allowed to Forget!”

I dreamt about Mitch Wood in a very interesting way the other night. I had a dream that someone was banging on my front door, then came busting in! It was some guy, I’ve never seen before. Late twenties, early 30s maybe. Dark hair, blue eyes. BIG eyes. He ran into my bedroom and flopped on my bed. I was freaking out. I didn’t know who his guy was, and he just burst into my apartment and shoved me aside to get to my bed.

He had an album. He kept saying “You can’t forget! Never forget. Have you already forgotten?”

I was in tears, I was wailing and fiercely shaking my head, as he accused me of forgetting. I assumed he was talking about Mitch, but I never saw the album.

He sat himself up, and said “good. You’re not allowed to forget!”

Then I woke up, I’ve been overflowing with thoughts and memories of Mitch, since. Much welcomed memories and thoughts.

My heart and soul are aching for him, again.

I was driving home from work, today. I cried.

I booked a flight to California to meet my cyber bestie. I cried.

I looked at hotels and rental cars and flights to Florida. I nearly cried.

All of these things, all of them, we should be doing together.




And, this life hurts!

My Life, In a Nutshell. The Blog that Took Two Days.

If you know me, you know the title of this blog is deceiving. I can’t do “in a nutshell”. ha! But here I go.

I haven’t written in a while, and I feel like my blogs are a bit, lacking, actually. I have feelings, and I share them, and I miss my husband, more than anyone can understand, if they haven’t lost their spouse, before. It’s hard to see that, on the exterior of my being, but, I miss him. Every single day, I miss him. It’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to have 3-5 bags of his ash in my car, at any given time. It’s okay that I no longer wear the Urn Necklace with our wedding rings on it. It’s okay. All of it is okay.

This blog is going to bounce all over. Sorry.

I haven’t posted much, recently, because, I will sit down, start to type, because something huge strikes me in that very moment, then POOF! I am distracted. I am up, remembering something that I need to pack, or making Megan do some chore, going to the gym, or cooking. It’s nonstop, and if I get distracted during writing, I lose all momentum. I will read it back and think “good lord! I really talk a lot about myself, don’t I?” and end up deleting the blog. In reality, this blog IS about me. It’s about my surviving the loss of the best thing that ever came into my life. It’s about the things I do, or don’t do, that I would have never imagined myself doing, in my very recent past. It’s about my confessions since becoming widowed on January 25th, 2017. It’s about all of that.

It’s also about letting other men and women know that they aren’t alone, out there.

You miss sex? FIND SOMEONE AND HAVE SEX! Just fucking do it! Be honest with yourself, and with your partner, but do not deny yourself the things you want to have.

You want to travel? FUCKING DO IT! It costs nearly nothing to drive 8 hours away, stay a weekend, and head home. It’s fun. It’s a stress relief. It’s what you want to do!

Wanna date, but not have sex. FUCKING DO IT! Go out, meet people, have a good time. Be HONEST. Don’t lead anyone on.

Wanna be a hermit? DON’T DO IT! BAAAAAAAD! ha! Just kidding. Do it, but limit your hermit time. It’s a dangerous thing to commit to. It becomes so easy to avoid everything and everyone. Social interaction is good for widows and widowers. It’s important, even if everyone you encounter pisses you off. You FEEL, and that’s what’s important.

Being numb is no way to live life.

Get raging pissed. Fall madly in love. Get obsessed with something (never someone, unless it’s yourself), make new friends, cut ties with “friends” who don’t make you priority.  Make time for the ones you love. Take your grandpa or grandma to a movie.  Be present.

About dating and meeting people. I have met a fun variety of people this last year. I really love people. Most of you know, without a shadow of a doubt, I am a full on extrovert, in every sense of the way. I love meeting new people, and making friends. I love going to the movies with friends/dates/family/etc. It’s fun.

I have written about some of my experiences. Most recently, I went on a date, for Thai food, with a man that I met on *GASP* a dating app. No big deal. I show up and thought “holy shit! He looks like a young, very handsome Pre-presidential Barack Obama!” That was my first thought. ha! I always thought Barack was the sexiest president we ever had.

Anyway, we talked, had Thai, and still talk. He’s nice. Not weird, or ass-hole-like. He’s interesting. Easy to talk to, most of the time. That’s as much as I am going to talk about him.

So, I was writing this blog last night, and of course I got distracted, and stopped writing. I nearly deleted the last 2 paragraphs. See? I need designated writing time,

1: Sit

2: Type

3: Post

I have to quit getting distracted. I need to make it 100% clear that I am busy and shut off my phone, and lock myself in my bedroom.

If I filter too much, this blog will be boring to read.

Not that that is what is the important thing. I want to be honest. I want to share with you the things that I am SCARED to share with people. If I overthink about the blogs, I start to worry about what readers will think. That’s what I am FIGHTING against!

There is a stigma that is associated with being a widow. I’ve touched on it, lightly, before, but I will mention it until I am blue in the face, if it helps get the stigma removed.

A widow should not feel ashamed, or like she is doing anything wrong, for dating, or having sex. I LOVE going to dinner, or playing pool with new people. It’s conversation. It’s enjoying the company of another human being.

Most widows will tell you, it’s not for comfort, so much as being social, or having someone around who thinks your beautiful, again. Its nice when someone finds you attractive. That’s no lie. I know, my momma thinks I’m pretty, and friends call me hot. It’s not the same as seeing the eyes of someone who WANTS you. I think that sounds way worse that it should. ha! I was with Mitch for all those years, and he looked at me with that look in his eyes, every fucking day of our life, together. Every day, you could see the hunger in his eyes. It feels good. Do I NEED it from other men? No way! But is it still flattering? AbsoFUCKINGlutely!!

When I go out on dates with anyone, there is a 100% up-front, completely honest approach. “Hey, just so you know, I am not having sex with you.” It’s that simple. Now, I HAVE had sex on a first date, but, it’s not something that’s always happening. That’s just too risky.

I am also very up front that I am not looking for a replacement husband, or even a boyfriend, because I don’t have the ability to put some guy before my daughter, or racing. My daughter comes first. Period. I am not going to pawn her off, to have sex. I can’t do that, in good conscience. I will go on a short dinner date or whatever, AFTER I feed her, but nothing more. Most guys are only looking for sex. Period. So, they don’t believe how serious I am about not giving it up, right away. They don’t think I am serious when I tell them my daughter is my number 1. They talk for a couple days, realize I’m not a booty call, and go on with their lives. I’m okay with that. I don’t need people in my life, that don’t listen to what I say.

I don’t beat around the bush. I don’t lead people on. I DEFINITELY treat people the way I want to be treated.

I am honest, please, be honest with me. It’s that simple, right?

So, moving on from that topic, to another. You. all know I am a racing machine. I am always out of town, doing one race or another. I have this weekend off, so I am taking Mitch’s grandpa to a movie, and out for lunch. He was widowed right around this time, last year. I am excited to do this. I hardly ever have free time, so this is my weekend to get that man to a funny movie. I love him like he is my grandpa.

I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I didn’t talk to him right after grandma died. I was afraid I was going to say the wrong thing. Then when I started to really think about it, I felt stupid, then it got to be such a long time, and I became embarrassed. What the fuck was my problem? I’m a fucking widow, too! I know all I wanted was for friends and family to treat me normal. To not walk on eggshells around me, to be themselves. It was so important to me. I feared the look of pity in peoples’ eyes. It is still something I hate. I will start talking about Mitch, as if he is alive, but I realize that sometimes the people I am talking to don’t know that he passed away, so I say it really fast, “Oh by the way, I’m not cheating on my husband, he passed away January of 2017.” When I say that, people are like, “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” And I just wave the apology away, and say thank you.

But, back to grandpa. I’m going to make more effort to be around him. To be around family.

I am very talkative, so why should it be hard to talk to him? It isn’t!

OH! And my talkative, open nature makes people think I am needy. I think that’s hilarious! I try to explain how NOT needy I am, but, I only try to explain once. If they don’t get it, I stop talking altogether. My LACK of neediness is probably my best “feature”. lol!

This weekend, I am in town. Then I go to Oklahoma City, OK, for a race, and can’t wait to have all the fun! I see all my OCR friends, and race the race, and have a blast. Meg is going to take over the Merchandise tent with a friend’s mom. It’s always fun!

Then, I have a COUPLE weeks off! A COUPLE!! That’s great! I have one week to get together with family and friends, then I have one week to possibly have a date. Who knows, though?

I guess only time will tell.

Until next time, friends!

Have a good night.

Love yas!








Have you heard people say “you can be surrounded by a lot of people, and still feel lonely.”?

It’s a thing. It really is. I am always surrounded by people, whether I’m at work, a weekly workout, or the races I love to do. I am surrounded by friends, family, and work family, all the time.

Loneliness is something that is felt deep in your soul.

It’s at the base of who you are. I’m not sure if I am explaining this right.

Imagine this. You meet the person of your dreams, at age 17. You fall into LIFE with them. (Yes, “life”!) You grow INTO each-other, rather than away from each other, in every possible way. You are never alone. Even if they go out of town for work, you are never alone. You have them. For 16.5 years, you have them. For almost half of your life, there you are, growing, and thriving together, loving, and living, teaching and learning.

Then one day, they’re gone.



No more.

Not by choice.

Not because they moved on, and left you, while they live happily ever after with someone else.

But gone.

Really gone.

Now, just try to imagine how easy loneliness comes.

Imagine making a connection with someone, even if it’s just briefly. A connection that makes you feel a little human again, even if just for 30 minutes.

I’ll be the first to say this, and please… no. Just bare with me, here. I won’t ask you to forgive me. I won’t ask you not to judge me. I won’t ask you to keep your comments to yourself.

I’ll be the first to say, I doubt I’ll ever marry again. I doubt I’ll ever meet a man worthy enough, after Mitch.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like to have sex. (PS, Meg might read this, and for anyone who doesn’t know, Meg and I talk very openly, without crossing boundaries.) I like sex. I love people, and going out. I like to mingle, and I am also perfectly fine coming home alone. I am so very very picky, that it’s easy to come home alone.

No matter what I do, or who I do it with, I will be lonely, so I will continue to be extremely picky, in my choices.

I just had DeJaVu, while typing this, followed by my memory of making breakfast one Saturday morning, for Mitch and Meg, while I told Mitch about this awful dream I had. In this dream, I was writing about how lonely I was. And I knew it was because he died.

Now that I think about it, Meg and I were both “prepped” for the death of one of us. Meg dreamed a LOT about me dying. She only ever had one dream of Mitch passing. I dreamed of Mitch Dying, but not of his death. I dreamed of the little things that came after. Like my kitchen, my apartment, writing this fucking blog.

I have had dreams of Meg dying, but those were different. They were almost like a desensitizing kind of dream. The ones of Meg were in color, and very vivid, and horrible.

I would wake up, heart racing, tears falling, and I’d go kiss my little girl, and thank the stars that she was still alive. The dreams of Meg, I’d see her die, right in front of me, and the ones of Mitch were the aftermath.

The feelings I would come to endure. The overwhelming, unpredictable moments of complete weakness. (I’m okay with being weak, sometimes. I accept it.)

So, as you read this, just know, even the people who look to be surrounded by many, can still be lonely.

Don’t take your spouse for granted. Cherish every moment, even if that moment is you shoving their leg off of your legs, because your feet are falling asleep. Even if it’s their beard hair being left in the sink, every time he shaves, or the toothpaste in the sink, or dirty dishes in the kitchen, the dirty socks on the living room floor.

All of these things are precious.

All of them.

Mother’s day, Without Mitch… Round 2.

This is year 2, of being without Mitch, on Mother’s Day. Really! 2 Mother’s day’s without him!

That’s insane to me.

Crazy, even.

He’s been around, visiting. He showed up at a long time friend’s home an scared the jeepers out of their daughter. My lights have been flickering, and last night, my water bottle did a little dance on my night stand.

I know, it sounds silly or crazy to say “it was him”. If you’ve never experienced energies from a life passed over, you can’t understand. There is a presence that accompanies these instances.

You don’t realize how in tuned you are to people’s presence, until it’s no longer here. Then, when it IS here, it’s unmistakable. It’s very noticeable. Undeniable, even.

In my cases, I feel him surrounding me. If you knew Mitch, you know that when he walked into a room, he filled the room with his presence. He laughed and made others laugh. He loved fiercely, and always saw the best in everyone. He was there for all who needed him.

I’m not sure if he is here for Mother’s day, or if he’d just gotten a day pass, but he was definitely hanging around causing a ruckus.

Meh swears she hasn’t had any Dad experiences, but I’d bet money she dreams about him.

I remember a conversation I had with Mitch, Long before he died. I remember we were talking about how we would haunt the one who didn’t die. Like if I died first, I’d haunt his house, for sure, and visa versa.

I know I mentioned it before, but for any new readers, my husband and I talked about death and dying and our wishes, all the time. We were weird. What can I say?

I told him I didn’t want him to surprise me. I didn’t want him to scare me, because I never wanted to be afraid of him. So, he hasn’t scared me, yet. He does his thing, and I am aware of the energetic presence and cherish each visit.

I remember telling him that I’d love to talk to him, if he passed first, about everything. I just didn’t want him popping up, out of nowhere, and making me pee my pants.

In 9 days, I’ll be celebrating what would have been our 15 year wedding anniversary! 15 years!

Can you believe that?!

I can say, that without a doubt, if Mitch were still alive, I wouldn’t have met a few of my new friends. And, I am perfectly fine with that. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate each and every friend I’ve made. But, if I had to choose between meeting all of you, or having my husband alive, you can bet your asses I would choose him. Please, do not be offended or hurt by this confession. Instead, put yourself in my shoes and think about what you’d say.

You too?

How did you meet me? Was it post death, or before? Either way, I am happy we met, and have become friends. You were introduced into my life for a reason.

Shit Happens…

Shit happens. Literally, every single day, something happens and it sucks.

You may not think about it, but it does.

Or maybe your “something good” is someone else’s “bad” thing for the day. Say, you get promoted, and one of your coworkers was really hoping for that promotion. Good for you, but bad for them.

So, I’ll say it again.

Shit. Happens.

How do you deal with it? When something bad or shitty happens to you, what’s your response?

Do you blame yourself? Do you blame the circumstance? Do you just figure out a way to make it better? Shrug your shoulders and move forward?

I feel like I do a combination of these all. I weigh what matters most in each situation. If it’s something I could have prevented, I blame myself and think of the best way to make it better.

If it’s not that important (spilled milk), I shrug my shoulders and move forward.

Remember, your “crappy” could, unintentionally, mean someone else’s “happy,” and your “happy” could cause someone else’s “crappy,” unintentionally.

Just live your life, happily. Don’t brag too much. Move forward each day. Those who are meant to be there will be there. Those who aren’t at your pace will speed past you, or fall behind. Let them. It just means the ones who are still around are either working to purposely keep your pace, or are naturally there, with you. Embrace them.

And never move backwards. It’s okay to miss the ones who speed past or fall behind. But, try, try, try not to dwell.

Everyone and everything enters your life for a reason. Be it long term reasons or short term reasons, it’s meant to be, so embrace every moment.

Be kind, Always.

Good night.

Who Are You, Really?

I seem to ask myself this question, a lot, lately.

Who am I? Really? Am I someone my family needs to be ashamed of?

Am I someone who should feel shame in what I do, or how I feel?

Should I be ashamed about anything in my life.

My answer to all of those questions is no. I am not ashamed of myself, in any way, shape, or form.

I was terrified, when Mitch passed. I asked myself, so many times, “Who are you, without him?”, and I couldn’t answer that question. That was scary. He helped shape me into the woman I grew to be. He did. Just imagine, you’re 17 years old.You fall in love. You are with this human for the rest of his life. He dies at 34. I was lost. So,  without him, who am I?

I am Tabbie.

I am woman.

I am Mom.

I am sister.

I am daughter, granddaughter.

I am cousin, friend, and coworker. I am athletic. I am a lover. I am passionate. I am curious.

I am a fixer. I am a surgical tech. I am fun, and entertaining.

I am a talker. I am a writer. I am a professional.

I have the mind of a man, and the body of a woman.

I am curious.

I am sexual.

I. Am. Me.

It took me over a year to really understand who I am. I have always known I am not like everyone else. I am okay with that. I have always understood that I am a bit different, but it is okay. I am not too weird. I don’t think. I mean I have met weirder people, throughout my life.

I have met an array of humans recently. Most are pretty amazing people.

I’ve met a couple in an open relationship. I have met a father/daughter team, that I can’t imagine my life without, now. I have made friends along this widow journey, that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

I have become healthier. I have learned to open up, and be completely honest about everything. I don’t want to step on toes, or hurt feelings, or be a dick, but I am honest. If I think you are sexy, I’ll tell you. I don’t care what you think of me.

If I think you’re being a douche bag, I will tell you. I don’t care. You should probably stop being a douche.

If I think you should seek professional help, I’ll tell you that too.

I would never tell anyone anything in a mean way, just an informational way.

So, as I continue to ask myself, “Who are you, really?” I will continue to grow as a human. I will continue to help others grow as well, in any way I can.


Can you say who you are, really? Think about it. You should know you, but do you?


Writing is Hard Sometimes. A Blog of Rambling. Science and Cancer. Death and Living.

Writing can be so hard, sometimes. I got my MacBook out, last night, and was going to start writing, and ended up texting a friend on my phone, while using iMessage to talk to another. I never even opened “pages” on my MacBook, to write. I had a great chapter topic, too.

Then, after all the talking and not even writing the topic down, it slipped my mind. Just fell out, like it was never there! It’s okay. It should come back to me. Right?

This morning, I thought of something great to blog about, then started chatting with the kiddo, because that’s more important to me, than blogging, or writing.

I forgot what I was going to blog about! Oh man! I’m losing it!

So, I guess I will just ramble my way through this blog post, and hope you all enjoy it.



I keep hearing about all of these people getting diagnosed with cancer. That’s the last thing I want to hear about my friends or their loved ones. Not because it puts a damper on my day. That’s not it at all. I don’t like to hear it, because I know my friends, or family are about to go through the most awful journey ever handed to humanity.

I know that the journey they are about to endure, will be rough. I know it isn’t fun. Most of the recent diagnoses have been pretty bad ones, lately.

“stage 4”




The things you don’t want to hear when you get diagnosed.

Before I heard about most of these diagnoses, I was talking about my trip to Atlanta, with one of the surgeons I work with. It struck a chord in his mind.

He started telling me about a doctor doing a research study in Atlanta. This doctor has figured out a way to inject directly into the cancer, and this formula then kills all cancer cells that have gone into the body. This doc gave lymphoma to 100 rats (I believe that’s the correct cancer, but I don’t remember exactly, can’t remember the doc’s name so hard for me to look it up. I know someone out there has better research skills than I do, so have at it, and leave it in the comments, if you find the doc’s name and facility!).

He injected these rats with cancer, then used the formula and it eliminated all signs of that specific cancer in 97 of the 100 rats.

Can we take a pause, here, and just think how amazing that really is?

Some new readers might wonder why I am writing this blog about cancer. No, my husband didn’t die of cancer. But cancer is one of the leading causes of death, right up there with how my husband died (heart and vascular diseases.

So, back to the doc doing research!

He later decided to inject rats with 2 kinds of cancer, and then only injected this cure into ONE of the origins. All cancer cells from that particular cancer were wiped out, but the secondary cancer was still there. So, in that experiment, he found he would have to inject the formula into BOTH cancers to eliminate it.

This study brings so much joy to me. As a very strange, very curious child, I would always think, “Why do humans have to have their entire bodies ruined for a possibility of removing cancer? Why can’t we just inject the cancer itself?”

Mind you, I never studied farther, or did anything with that question. But, now, I look back and I think, “damn! If only I had the resources, and not disregarded that question…”

But not really. I love science, and biology. I am that weird person, who loves when we go in to do surgery, and the surgeon explains everything we are doing. I feel like its a connect the dots game, or like we are fixing a car or a robot.

So, now you can see why this study makes me so happy.

I am excited to see the longer-term results. so far, each study participant that was cured is still cancer free.

And if you get a cancer diagnoses, please, don’t think its the end. It might not have to be a death sentence after all.

Because someone, who had the same question as I did, (most likely),  took that question, and did something with it. And that, is amazing!



My neighbors suck. Period. They all have animals who bark so much, all the time. One has a dog that barks, and it’s so high pitched, and screechy. It, literally, hurts my ears.

I have a neighbor, that lives downstairs, that is a complete douche bag, and has almost ran over kids in the apartment complex because he drives 40-50mph through the apartment complex parking lots. I really wish they’d put in speed bumps. He also smokes in the indoor breezeways, and we have a shared air system. It’s terrible. I am a little more sensitive to cigarette smells than a non smoker, as I smoked a very long time and quit about 4 years ago.

I like my neighbor Mani. He’s quiet, and respectful. He was the first one I met, when moving in. My brother started having really bad stomach pains and had to lay on the couch during the unload. Mani jumped in and started carrying boxes in. Unfortunately, he doesn’t live right above me! He’d be the perfect upstairs neighbor.

I should be fair. I have new neighbors, next door, and they’re great thus far. So cute! They were having a bday party, a few weeks ago, and knocked on our door for a lighter or matches. I had one, that I kept, of Mitch’s, a simple Bic. I let them borrow it. They brought it back with a giant piece of delicious birthday cake! They aren’t loud, either. So, jackpot on that note. We share one wall. The one by the dining room.



Race season is in full swing. I am leaving town this Friday, at 4:30am, to drive to Texas for my second race of the season. I am sad that Meg isn’t joining us, this time. She’s not sad, though, as she won’t have to hang out at this race venue alone.

I love Savage race. It’s great. I did my first one last week and had so much fun, even running it alone! But, Meg was stuck hanging out all alone, since there wasn’t a volunteer opportunity for her, there. She is excited about all of the Conquer the Gauntlet races this year, though. She gets to run the merchandise tent, so she’s never bored. She interacts with so many people, and gets free food and drink tickets, and she loves the people who run the race series. Watching her interact with all the strangers like a champ, is so fun for me. I know her. I know she is terrified, but I know what it takes for her to get up there, and talk to all these strangers.

She is brave.

She is scared, but knows it’s not dangerous, so faces it.


I am headed to Texas next weekend, then have a half marathon the following weekend. then May is Battlegrounds in Wright City, Mo, and lots of training.

Once June hits, I’m gone 3 weekends a month, and Meg will be with me, for each of them. She is going to hate going to Nebraska, since I am driving up the day of the races. HA! early rising this summer. At least she gets to sleep on the drive up.

When I told her I probably wouldn’t be doing as many races, next year, she was disappointed with me. She told me she liked all the traveling.

That made my heart soar! She is my little gypsy. I love traveling, too. As soon as she is done with high school, I or we are traveling, and I am going to do it for work, too. Maybe she can do online college, by then?

Meg’s birthday, in October. I am hoping I can get us plane tickets to Corona, California, so we can go see (meet in person) my friend I’ve had for 14+ years. Molly and Meg have been in each-other’s lives since infancy, but have never met, in person. Pen-pals to text buddies, to social media friends.

They are one day apart in age. We would be able to celebrate their birthdays together, which would be amazing! Gina and I have talked about meeting for all these years. I think I’m going to make it happen this year.

2018 is our year of travel.

West coast in October, East Coast in November. I can and I will make this happen.


I guess I could ramble all day about many many topics, but I have to get on with my day.