My mother in law didn't come to our wedding. On purpose.
She's a little crazy. She has a lot of cats. Lives alone in a five bedroom house. A house that is so filled with stuff- she needs extra storage sheds. Her crazy is not certifiable though. It's just a little crazy. Not enough to be called the crazy cat lady. Not enough to get on hoarders.
The crazy bubbled up really big around the time of our wedding. But not enough crazy though. She didn't come to our wedding on purpose. It was a choice.
A month after we got married, we gathered for Thanksgiving. I brought wedding pictures for her to see. I brought the photos because I still loved her. My cup of Mr. Hall love runneth over onto all his family. Still does.
But here's the thing. It's ten years later and I still can't make eye contact with her. It is still so harsh to be in the same house with her. Unbearable Tension. So much unspoken. Even though I've seen here about once a month since the wedding, it's never been said out loud. She didn't come to our wedding on purpose. So when I see her, I usually get drunk. This is no good.
I don't think I've ever talked about how that hurt me. I was so busy forgiving her and trying to be the better woman, making sure the grand kids know her, that I forgot to let it hurt. So that's what I've been doing the last couple of weeks. And I've been praying to find forgiveness for her. It's working, this process.
I'm feeling so much better about the whole thing.
So here is my plan for my mother in law (and Thanksgiving).
My plan is to knock it off, stop acting like I have been. When I go there, to my mother in law's house, I'll put away my phone. I will stay sober and breathe. I will turn my attention to God and let the love flow through me. My plan is to be still, to be near this woman. To be available for her. In her own weird ways, she has tried to reach out to me. So now I'll be reachable if she needs me.
I know all of this is possible. I just have to let it happen, trust and let God work through me.
And so it shall be.
Happy Thanksgiving all :)
So, here's a story from work.
I was conversing with two people at work. I like these people. Then, they started busting out stories about being drunk and well, hold on, let me back up. One is a social worker who really, SHE IS ALL SORTS OF FUN!!! I MUST GO TO A BAR WITH THIS WOMAN AND HER FRIENDS!! We must go to bars and be drunk and white trashy. She has a jedi coffee mug. She's a social worker. And blonde. And like, 40, so she knows how to drink and have fun cause she doesn't have kids. Or deep thoughts. It would interrupt her fun she says.
Good times will be had.
She reported that a few years ago, at her best friend's bachelorette party- they used IVs to help prevent hangovers. The bachelorette is a nurse, so she swiped IV bags/line/pokey tools from work. "It was awesome," the social worker said, "because of those IVs, I was able to drink for two days straight!"
They hung the IVs from the pictures glued to the hotel walls. It was funny she said, cause they were still drunk while they were doing it. And one girl didn't get it in right and it was squirting all over-the social worker was laying in the next bed just laaauuuggghiiinnnnggg-cause it was so funny.
Remember now, I'm at work. This woman is my coworker. The best stories are told in the mental health lunch room. GAWD I LOVE MY JOB!
anywhoodle . . . .
Then, THEN another coworker jumps in the conversation. He is a veteran I work with. Former army. Purple heart recipient. He is my go to guy for almost everything I need when I need inside information about anything. He's 28. Married, young daughter. Use to be a medic in the army.
So, the guy says, in the army they have these survival packs with two IV kits in them. Him and his buddies would swipe a bag each time they were opened. He was 19 or so at the time. He would drink all night and then have to get up at 6 am for PT. PT is running. He would pop the IV in and gently squeeze the bag in while it rested on his stomach. Then, all juiced up, he would be ready to go.
AND I'M STANDING THERE LISTENING TO THIS. JAW ON THE FLOOR. I respect these people. I know they are drunks by history but GAWD DANG!!!
My jaw was to the floor people. Because not only do I NOT have drunk stories, I don't have this caliber of drunk story. I didn't have any alcohol until I was like, 25.
So my gauge for normal drunk stories, stuff that most everyone has been through, my gauge is a little of.
SO
YOU TELL ME-is this normal drunk behavior?
This Sgt. Hall, my husband. I am very proud of his service.
Thanks to all the vets out there.
Bear with me here, this is a tough post to write.
My husband and I believe that meals times should be calm, loving and food should be enjoyed. And no, the kids don't get a choice for dinner. Well, actually they get two choices: take it or leave it.
On Sunday I made fruit filled pancakes. It's simple to make. Just add frozen fruit to the pancake batter. Frozen fruit can be found in the freezer section of your local grocery store.
Then my daughter, the wee eight year old Pancake, says, "Can you make my pancakes without fruit in it?"
We discuss this. No I say, I don't make separate orders. She fusses and whines. Now, this irritates me. I expect a lot from my kids and manners. They are not allowed to pick through their food. They are not allowed to insult any cook by saying something stinks or it tastes nasty. I have taught them phrases like, "It's a bit strong for me, but thank you anyway."
Manners are important.
So is trying different type of foods. The world is a big wonderful place, so many tastes and textures to explore. This is what I am instilling here, in my kid's. I want them to be cultured and knowledgeable with foods. I want them to taste the wonder of it all.
Ok ok, jeez, yes, yes- I realize they are only 8 and 4, I can realize I can calm down a bit. I know that! I'm working on it!!
So, back to the fruit filled pancakes and the stinkeye my daughter was giving me about them.
Then I said, "I don't think you realize what you have here. You have me, making you pancakes." I then wave my arms open, calling her attention to our house. "We have everything we need here, we have a house, warm heat and now these pancakes. You woke up in a warm bed today. Some people wake up in homeless shelters, some wake up in a parks. There are a lot of people out there who don't have this."
She is looking at me at this point, mouth all small, close circle. I have her attention. Then I say this.
"I have a patient who goes to dunkin donuts every day at 12.30. Do you know why they do this?"
She doesn't.
"At 12.30, the morning donuts are thrown away in the Dumpster behind the building. My patient waits by the dumpster to scoop them out of the trash. They do this because they don't have food to eat. I also have a patient who brings empty milk jugs to the park every morning. Do you know why they do this?"
She doesn't.
"Because they can't pay their water bill. They fill the jugs with water to bring home, so they can have something to drink."
At this point she is dead silent. Her eyes are welling up. I realize that I am affecting her. I am not entirely comfortable with this. Yet there it is.
"So, when you whine about fruit in your pancakes, you need to think a little bit about all that we have here. And then, that fruit won't be such a big deal."
Then we all sit down for breakfast. It's calm. She doesn't pick the fruit out, she doesn't whine, she doesn't really eat though. And she doesn't say anything. After a while she asks to be excused and toddles off.
Then, we go to the park, she plays all happy. Around lunch time she says she's hungry again. And we eat. And love each other because we are family.
In a hurry here, no time to link. 
The guy up there, he's not dead, but he does a lot of walking himself. And horseback riding.
Whoa there! Zombies!
I like that it's based on a graphic novel. Graphic novels translate well to the screen, at least visually, because graphic novels are visual.
I like that it displays darkness. Darkness of death, darkness of sadness, of being left behind, without family and darkness of feeling alone. Like all parts of life, darkness holds wonder for me.
I like that the sheriff has a large amount of humanity. He has layers people. And I feel for him.
I also like that he's built like Mr. Hall-the slim yet might muscular underneath. Efficient and strong. 
I hope he survives because I give this show two bony dead zombie thumbs up!
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