Alright, so I am done with advertising on the blog. I mean, yeah, it was cool, but seriously, I am done. I want my blog to be fun, and a reflection of who I am. I don't want to be a sellout. I want this to be something I want to do, not something I am obligated to do, yaknow?
I miss the people, the other bloggers, and just the atmosphere this blog exposed me to.
I kind of want to come back to all of this and I mean on a consistent basis. I know I have a lot I want to write about and I want to write for me. I want to get my creative side going, because I have been concentrating so hard on social and educational aspects, I think my creativity and writing is starting to suffer.
Anyway, I just thought I would kick it off with this.
Soon, I am going to be blogging regularly. I got a new iPad for my birthday April 29th, and this on-screen keyboard will take some getting used to, so until I get back up to the 70-80 wpm I was at before when I was typing regularly with an actual keyboard, my posts will be shorter than my usual rambling.
I think that will be a healthy and welcome change, though.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
In San Diego
My mother's favorite brother called me on the 13th of January on his way home from the hospital. His foot was broken and he had just gotten a cast on it.
He needed me to come out and help him drive to and from work, so I told him I would come as soon as possible.
I was there the next Wednesday.
I've been in San Diego now for about 2 weeks and I am looking for something more to do. Maybe a job, maybe volunteering, maybe writing. I don't know. I've been sitting at the apartment for two weeks now and while the weekends have been full of trips to the mall and seaworld and oldtown and other fun places, there's only so much I can do during the week at home.
I've already cleaned the apartment. It'll only get so clean.
I've already made cookies (sugar free sugar and chocolate chip for my diabetic uncle!!) and apple pie. There's only so much cooking one can do before there's nothing to make anymore.
I've done the dishes, I've unpacked boxes that had been packed, I've looked online for jobs, and I've updated twitter, facebook, and now my blog.
I'm going stir crazy.
Anyway, I'm just letting the world know how I'm doing. Now to look for more jobs.
He needed me to come out and help him drive to and from work, so I told him I would come as soon as possible.
I was there the next Wednesday.
I've been in San Diego now for about 2 weeks and I am looking for something more to do. Maybe a job, maybe volunteering, maybe writing. I don't know. I've been sitting at the apartment for two weeks now and while the weekends have been full of trips to the mall and seaworld and oldtown and other fun places, there's only so much I can do during the week at home.
I've already cleaned the apartment. It'll only get so clean.
I've already made cookies (sugar free sugar and chocolate chip for my diabetic uncle!!) and apple pie. There's only so much cooking one can do before there's nothing to make anymore.
I've done the dishes, I've unpacked boxes that had been packed, I've looked online for jobs, and I've updated twitter, facebook, and now my blog.
I'm going stir crazy.
Anyway, I'm just letting the world know how I'm doing. Now to look for more jobs.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Almost a year.
I'm up way too late, but I don't care. I'm 22 years old and I can do what I want. That's what I like to tell myself, at least.
A week and a half from now, it will have been a year since my mom died. September 29th is the anniversary of her passing away.
A lot has happened since then; some good, some not so good. In March, our family found out that my dad has a Melanoma. Those of you who follow me on twitter might remember the exact day, because I freaked out just hearing the 'C' word.
Dad had a few surgeries. One to remove the melanoma in early April, another to remove certain inguinal lymph nodes on April 29th. In case you don't know why I would remember the specific date, April 29th happens to be my birthday. My first birthday without my mom and I spent it in a hospital room looking after my dad.
Luckily, I had a friend who was kind enough to bring a wonderful goody bag full of party supplies and treats and presents to me the day before, so when I got to the hospital, I could have my own little party while dad was drugged up and knocked out.
Also, luckily, I had a friend, who had spent a lot of time in that same hospital as a child, come visit me while dad was in surgery, so I didn't have to wait alone. He showed me where the little room was to get dad water or juice or something, and he showed me where the extra linens were. He even kept dad company with me while he was there (and while dad was awake). The guy spent at least 8 hours at the hospital with me, playing bored games with me, chatting it up with dad, and just being there.
In the summer, Dad started an ongoing treatment. He's doing some 'immuno-therapy' stuff, called 'interferon' (sp?). Basically, it's a month (five days a week for four weeks) of high dose meds that make him feel like he's got the flu, and 48 weeks of low dose, less frequent (three times a week) shots that he's been giving himself.
He got an infection a couple weeks ago and none of the antibiotics they tried slowed it down, so they had to go in surgically and remove everything, so that stunk. He spent a week in the hospital, and I spent three days there until he made me go home to take care of the house.
Things have been calmer since then, and I'm glad. I have time to reflect upon the things that have happened this year, and I have time to remember when everything was easy.
I'm still grateful to have a wonderful family, and I'm thankful to still have one parent. I'm thankful for everything my mother was while she was here, and to the wonderful example she set. I'm grateful for the support of our friends here, who, the day they heard dad was in the hospital, sent flowers, visited us, and had us over for dessert and movies and games.
It's just Dad, myself, and my two little brothers at home now, so when dad's not around, it feels like we're a broken family or something. Thankfully, we have a wonderful bunch of friends who are there for us, and we can rely on them for anything, even if it's just a night of company and fellowship to keep our minds off of things.
Yeah, life could stand to be a little easier, but I'm grateful that it's not worse, and that we're going through everything as a family. We still laugh and play and talk and watch movies together, and we say "I love you" to each other more often, and I'm thankful for the trials we've been handed, because they've helped us grow stronger and closer.
I miss you, mom, and I wish you were here, and even though I know you aren't coming back, I hope, at least, you're watching us, and that you're proud of how we've managed so far without you. I know I'll see you again, but until then, my memories of your life and your love will have to do to keep me company when I think I can't handle things.
"And when one of us is gone
and one of us is left to carry on
then remembering will have to do.
Our memories alone will get us through.
Think about the days of me and you.
You and me against the world."
--Helen Reddy
A week and a half from now, it will have been a year since my mom died. September 29th is the anniversary of her passing away.
A lot has happened since then; some good, some not so good. In March, our family found out that my dad has a Melanoma. Those of you who follow me on twitter might remember the exact day, because I freaked out just hearing the 'C' word.
Dad had a few surgeries. One to remove the melanoma in early April, another to remove certain inguinal lymph nodes on April 29th. In case you don't know why I would remember the specific date, April 29th happens to be my birthday. My first birthday without my mom and I spent it in a hospital room looking after my dad.
Luckily, I had a friend who was kind enough to bring a wonderful goody bag full of party supplies and treats and presents to me the day before, so when I got to the hospital, I could have my own little party while dad was drugged up and knocked out.
Also, luckily, I had a friend, who had spent a lot of time in that same hospital as a child, come visit me while dad was in surgery, so I didn't have to wait alone. He showed me where the little room was to get dad water or juice or something, and he showed me where the extra linens were. He even kept dad company with me while he was there (and while dad was awake). The guy spent at least 8 hours at the hospital with me, playing bored games with me, chatting it up with dad, and just being there.
In the summer, Dad started an ongoing treatment. He's doing some 'immuno-therapy' stuff, called 'interferon' (sp?). Basically, it's a month (five days a week for four weeks) of high dose meds that make him feel like he's got the flu, and 48 weeks of low dose, less frequent (three times a week) shots that he's been giving himself.
He got an infection a couple weeks ago and none of the antibiotics they tried slowed it down, so they had to go in surgically and remove everything, so that stunk. He spent a week in the hospital, and I spent three days there until he made me go home to take care of the house.
Things have been calmer since then, and I'm glad. I have time to reflect upon the things that have happened this year, and I have time to remember when everything was easy.
I'm still grateful to have a wonderful family, and I'm thankful to still have one parent. I'm thankful for everything my mother was while she was here, and to the wonderful example she set. I'm grateful for the support of our friends here, who, the day they heard dad was in the hospital, sent flowers, visited us, and had us over for dessert and movies and games.
It's just Dad, myself, and my two little brothers at home now, so when dad's not around, it feels like we're a broken family or something. Thankfully, we have a wonderful bunch of friends who are there for us, and we can rely on them for anything, even if it's just a night of company and fellowship to keep our minds off of things.
Yeah, life could stand to be a little easier, but I'm grateful that it's not worse, and that we're going through everything as a family. We still laugh and play and talk and watch movies together, and we say "I love you" to each other more often, and I'm thankful for the trials we've been handed, because they've helped us grow stronger and closer.
I miss you, mom, and I wish you were here, and even though I know you aren't coming back, I hope, at least, you're watching us, and that you're proud of how we've managed so far without you. I know I'll see you again, but until then, my memories of your life and your love will have to do to keep me company when I think I can't handle things.
"And when one of us is gone
and one of us is left to carry on
then remembering will have to do.
Our memories alone will get us through.
Think about the days of me and you.
You and me against the world."
--Helen Reddy
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Not the best of times, not the worst of times.
Don't you hate when things happen that not only inconvenience you, but anyone who is involved?
Today, I found out that my bank lost a check. It's not their fault. Technically, they sent the check to a collections service or something and THEY lost it. But the bank, naturally, has to deal with the inconvenient consequences (ie: telling me, working out a way to fix it, etc.).
Now, my bank has been extremely helpful to me in the past, and I understand that this sort of thing happens. I also understand that these people are trying to do the best they can to work out a solution and help me to straighten all of this out.
Their solution so far has been: E-mail the person who issued the check and see if they can issue another one. Either that, or see if they can wire the money directly to my bank account.
So this situation is inconvenient. Not only is it inconvenient for me (who doesn't have the money I expected to have before the Thanksgiving Holidays), but it is also inconvenient for the issuer of the check (who has to worry about the lost check and where in the world it might be and decide whether to send another one or to deal with the situation in another way), and for the bank employees who have to deal with who sent the check when and where it was sent and who put it where.
I think part of dealing with situations like this in a civil manner is understanding that there is not only one person inconvenienced by the situation at hand. It would be easy for one party or another to get frustrated with the outcome of a failed transaction and to start throwing blame one way or another. But I think that throwing blame is a good way to get nothing accomplished.
I mean, yes, I am frustrated with the amount of time it took to deal with all of this. The check was sent one day (with a little delay and unexpected inconvenience on that end, but that's alright), received one week later, given to the bank the day it was received, and was supposed to take 30 business days (no weekends or holidays) to be deposited into my account. So I have been waiting on this money for the better part of 2 months to find now that it's all for naught.
But being frustrated gets you nowhere fast.
I'd like, now, to quote 13-year-old me's favorite movie The Mummy. And trust me, I could recite that movie. My favorite quote from that movie is when the desert people are attacking Brendan Frasier's ship as it's on it's way to the lost city. Brendan Frasier is telling Rachel Weiz to jump overboard, and he's getting impatient. "Patience is a virtue!" she reminds him. "Not right now it isn't!" he tells her as he picks her up and throws her off of the burning ship.
Bottom line = There is no burning ship here. I can wait. I don't have to go overboard.*
*And oh my gosh, didn't that just turn out to be the best analogy ever? I just made it up, seriously, right on the spot! Man oh man! I done good!
Update- Everything seems to be fine now. The situation was handled quickly now that we've turned to the internet to help us. Haha! I am so thankful (hey, it's thanksgiving, right?) for the cooperation and professionalism that has been shown by everyone involved. It's moments like these that help me to appreciate being a "grown up" (yuck! I can't believe I just typed that!).
I'm a big kid now!
Today, I found out that my bank lost a check. It's not their fault. Technically, they sent the check to a collections service or something and THEY lost it. But the bank, naturally, has to deal with the inconvenient consequences (ie: telling me, working out a way to fix it, etc.).
Now, my bank has been extremely helpful to me in the past, and I understand that this sort of thing happens. I also understand that these people are trying to do the best they can to work out a solution and help me to straighten all of this out.
Their solution so far has been: E-mail the person who issued the check and see if they can issue another one. Either that, or see if they can wire the money directly to my bank account.
So this situation is inconvenient. Not only is it inconvenient for me (who doesn't have the money I expected to have before the Thanksgiving Holidays), but it is also inconvenient for the issuer of the check (who has to worry about the lost check and where in the world it might be and decide whether to send another one or to deal with the situation in another way), and for the bank employees who have to deal with who sent the check when and where it was sent and who put it where.
I think part of dealing with situations like this in a civil manner is understanding that there is not only one person inconvenienced by the situation at hand. It would be easy for one party or another to get frustrated with the outcome of a failed transaction and to start throwing blame one way or another. But I think that throwing blame is a good way to get nothing accomplished.
I mean, yes, I am frustrated with the amount of time it took to deal with all of this. The check was sent one day (with a little delay and unexpected inconvenience on that end, but that's alright), received one week later, given to the bank the day it was received, and was supposed to take 30 business days (no weekends or holidays) to be deposited into my account. So I have been waiting on this money for the better part of 2 months to find now that it's all for naught.
But being frustrated gets you nowhere fast.
I'd like, now, to quote 13-year-old me's favorite movie The Mummy. And trust me, I could recite that movie. My favorite quote from that movie is when the desert people are attacking Brendan Frasier's ship as it's on it's way to the lost city. Brendan Frasier is telling Rachel Weiz to jump overboard, and he's getting impatient. "Patience is a virtue!" she reminds him. "Not right now it isn't!" he tells her as he picks her up and throws her off of the burning ship.
Bottom line = There is no burning ship here. I can wait. I don't have to go overboard.*
*And oh my gosh, didn't that just turn out to be the best analogy ever? I just made it up, seriously, right on the spot! Man oh man! I done good!
Update- Everything seems to be fine now. The situation was handled quickly now that we've turned to the internet to help us. Haha! I am so thankful (hey, it's thanksgiving, right?) for the cooperation and professionalism that has been shown by everyone involved. It's moments like these that help me to appreciate being a "grown up" (yuck! I can't believe I just typed that!).
I'm a big kid now!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Karma is out to get me!
I don't know what I did. I don't know who I upset. All I know is that Karma is out to get me!You'd think that after what happened at the end of September, I'd be on the safe side assuming I wouldn't have to visit the hospital for another year at least!
But this morning, my big sister called. And my little nephew has swollen lymph nodes in his neck.
I brought him lunch, and he seems fine, but his neck is swollen like crazy!
The hospital says they've only seen whatever it is twice before, and pediatrics have called Internal Medicine and ENT surgeon into it!
Even the medical students are being shown into my nephew's room to examine the weird frankenstien neck thing he has going on.
This poor kid is only 4 years old, and his doctor there is now saying that he might need surgery! I have faith as usual that what needs to be done will be done, but talking about surgery on my little buddy is kinda scary. He's my favorite little kid in the world and now he's going to have to get cut open?
I'm kinda frustrated with life throwing us these curveballs left and right. Thank goodness he's at the hospital he is. Our hospital here "has been ranked among the nation's top 50 hospitals in five specialties in U.S. News' 2009-10 publication of America's Best Hospitals."
None of the five ranked specialties have anything to do with my nephew's swollen lymph nodes, but it's still pretty impressive, yeah? Right? Riiiiiiight? Yeah, you know your jealous. Unless you live in Washington State, or Maryland, or Minnesota, or Ohio, or you know what? I don't care where you live. Just be jealous anyway. It will make me feel better.
My Little Buddy(P.S.- this counts as a med-blog-gy post, right? Riiiiiiiiight? )
UPDATE: They sent him home Tuesday with an Rx for some pain meds and something to keep the swelling down. Hopefully, this was just a weird one time thing that will go away and never come back.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Yay!
My adorable nephew came by today and we had fun playing video games! I'm glad he's around to help make it look like I'm awesome at them. And make it look like I'm taller than I am.
This is us being very very serious. See our serious faces? Nothing silly or funny going on at all in this picture!
This is us being very very serious. See our serious faces? Nothing silly or funny going on at all in this picture!
Friday, May 1, 2009
My birthday!
My birthday was Wednesday. I am now 21. I don't feel any older. I guess 21 is something you have to grow into.
We had a party Sunday. The whole family was there. I got some cool presents and some not so cool presents. The coolest of which included:
-A Flight of the Conchords CD!!!
-A The Fray CD!!
-Toy Night Vision Goggles!!!
And
- Bagles! I love bagles!
The worst present I got, I won't mention, but the person who gave it knows who they are. And to them I have this to say:
Despite the ridiculous lack of effort on your part, I still love you and I know that you love me. I know that you were probably too busy or something like that. So even though the gift I received was something I saw the next day on a mcdonalds commercial as the give-away toy, forget about it. I know I'll try to as well.
Now! I think I'll kick back and watch the old version of Escape to Witch Mountain. You know the one. The two kids and one plays a harmonica and there are flashbacks to a tragic accident. . . etc. Anyway, I hope I'll get to see the other one sometime in the future.
We had a party Sunday. The whole family was there. I got some cool presents and some not so cool presents. The coolest of which included:
-A Flight of the Conchords CD!!!
-A The Fray CD!!
-Toy Night Vision Goggles!!!
And
- Bagles! I love bagles!
The worst present I got, I won't mention, but the person who gave it knows who they are. And to them I have this to say:
Despite the ridiculous lack of effort on your part, I still love you and I know that you love me. I know that you were probably too busy or something like that. So even though the gift I received was something I saw the next day on a mcdonalds commercial as the give-away toy, forget about it. I know I'll try to as well.
Now! I think I'll kick back and watch the old version of Escape to Witch Mountain. You know the one. The two kids and one plays a harmonica and there are flashbacks to a tragic accident. . . etc. Anyway, I hope I'll get to see the other one sometime in the future.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
QLD and the blind.
Have you guys heard of the best job in the world? I heard it from Leif Pettersen. I applied. Check it out HERE!
Rate my video to help me get the job HERE!
Thanks guys! I know I've already e-mailed some of you and I'm sorry if you don't like getting e-mails like that, but I'd still appreciate your help to get me into the top 1o!
This is the shortest blog I've ever written I think.
But maybe not, because I feel a random thought coming on. . .
Why don't dollar bills have braile on them? I mean, blind people can't tell the difference between bills! How much more convenient would it be for them if bills were different? Y'ever thought of that? They have to rely on people to tell them which bill is which. And some people are dishonest, and might not tell them the truth.
Yes, I watched that new reality show that came on after Deal or No Deal. So sue me.
Rate my video to help me get the job HERE!
Thanks guys! I know I've already e-mailed some of you and I'm sorry if you don't like getting e-mails like that, but I'd still appreciate your help to get me into the top 1o!
This is the shortest blog I've ever written I think.
But maybe not, because I feel a random thought coming on. . .
Why don't dollar bills have braile on them? I mean, blind people can't tell the difference between bills! How much more convenient would it be for them if bills were different? Y'ever thought of that? They have to rely on people to tell them which bill is which. And some people are dishonest, and might not tell them the truth.
Yes, I watched that new reality show that came on after Deal or No Deal. So sue me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Getting a little personal.
It's raining right now. Pretty hard, too. The rain is beating against the window pane and I can feel the cold seeping in from outside. I just know that later, when I go outside, I'll be able to smell it. You know that smell. The "it just rained and everything's starting to dry off" smell. I love that smell.
I was born in Austell, Georgia. The house I grew up in was right across the street from the elementary school that my siblings and I attended. My best friends lived next door, across the street (Not at the school, but across the street the other way. Our house was on the corner.), and halfway down to the cul-du-sac.
The sidewalk near my house had eight handprints on it. When they put it in, Mom and Dad took us out to go make handprints and write our names on the sidewalk.
In the front yard, there was a pear tree that never really produced alot of pears for some reason. Also in the front yard was a tree that was good for climbing. I mean, to even reach the lowest branch, you had to prop your bike up against the tree, but still. Once you got to that first branch, the rest was an easy climb to the top. There was a tree like that in the backyard as well. The climbing tree in the backyard was my favorite. It was right up against the fence, so we could climb up the fence and into the tree with ease. Needless to say, my siblings and I were a climbey bunch of kids. We must've climbed every tree in the neighborhood and the small woods around it at least once each.
So mid '96, when I was about 8 years old, my dad built a loft in the garage. Now, since our house was a split-level house, the garage was pretty darn big. It went from the very bottom, to the very top. And none of the other rooms in the house did that. If it was clean, we could've fit a couple cars in there with plenty of room to spare. But we had so much stuff to store, we could never clean it all. Thus the loft. The loft was supposed to help with storage and getting things out of the way. I'd say it was about 16 feet high, and took up a corner of the garage.
Now, to an eight year old, 16 feet is pretty big. And at first, we probably weren't allowed up there at all. But there were things stacked against the loft, and we were able to climb up and hang out there. Eventually, a TV made it's way into the loft, a couple of cushions, maybe a blanket or two, and it became the place we would go after school to hang out. Just my siblings and I. But mostly just me. I was probably the youngest kid who was allowed up there. My little brothers wanted to come up, but mom never really let them until they were bigger.
So after school, I'd go up to the loft, lay on my stomach next to the 16-foot drop (it's where the tv was, okay?) and watch my afternoon cartoons, play video games or read books. I loved reading books, and I'd be up in that loft for hours at a time with my boxcar children books. Sometimes, my friends and I would hang out in the loft. I think if their parents had seen the loft, they might not have let them come over to our house anymore.
But one of the things I remember most about the loft was that since there was no room above it, and no rooms around it (except the kitchen on the other side of one wall), you could hear the rain very very well. So I would go up to the loft whenever it started raining hard. I say this because when it wasn't raining too hard, I would most definetly be going on adventures in the woods with my friends. But when the heavy rain started and the thunder started pounding, I would go up to the loft, with the lights off, and just lay there, listening. I would even fall asleep sometimes laying there in the dark, listeining to the rain. Since the loft was in the garage, the sound was even louder because of the empty space. I would lay there until mom called me in for dinner or something. It was very nice. And I knew I was safe in the loft. My Daddy built it, so why wouldn't I be? Although I do remember almost falling off of the edge, and that scared the heck out of me. But mostly, I was comfortable with the edge. I would sleep with a leg and an arm hanging off of the edge, or I would be dangling my feet down, or just lay on my stomach and look down at the garage from right there on the edge.
Everytime it rains that hard, I think about the loft, and how I'd love to go back and take a nap in it. But sadly, in the winter of 1999, we tore the loft down because we were moving to Memphis, TN. The people who wanted to buy our house didn't want a loft in their garage, and wouldn't buy our house until we took it down. So down it went. My safe place. My old friend. My loft.
R.I.P Loft
1996-1999
I was born in Austell, Georgia. The house I grew up in was right across the street from the elementary school that my siblings and I attended. My best friends lived next door, across the street (Not at the school, but across the street the other way. Our house was on the corner.), and halfway down to the cul-du-sac.
The sidewalk near my house had eight handprints on it. When they put it in, Mom and Dad took us out to go make handprints and write our names on the sidewalk.
In the front yard, there was a pear tree that never really produced alot of pears for some reason. Also in the front yard was a tree that was good for climbing. I mean, to even reach the lowest branch, you had to prop your bike up against the tree, but still. Once you got to that first branch, the rest was an easy climb to the top. There was a tree like that in the backyard as well. The climbing tree in the backyard was my favorite. It was right up against the fence, so we could climb up the fence and into the tree with ease. Needless to say, my siblings and I were a climbey bunch of kids. We must've climbed every tree in the neighborhood and the small woods around it at least once each.
So mid '96, when I was about 8 years old, my dad built a loft in the garage. Now, since our house was a split-level house, the garage was pretty darn big. It went from the very bottom, to the very top. And none of the other rooms in the house did that. If it was clean, we could've fit a couple cars in there with plenty of room to spare. But we had so much stuff to store, we could never clean it all. Thus the loft. The loft was supposed to help with storage and getting things out of the way. I'd say it was about 16 feet high, and took up a corner of the garage.
Now, to an eight year old, 16 feet is pretty big. And at first, we probably weren't allowed up there at all. But there were things stacked against the loft, and we were able to climb up and hang out there. Eventually, a TV made it's way into the loft, a couple of cushions, maybe a blanket or two, and it became the place we would go after school to hang out. Just my siblings and I. But mostly just me. I was probably the youngest kid who was allowed up there. My little brothers wanted to come up, but mom never really let them until they were bigger.
So after school, I'd go up to the loft, lay on my stomach next to the 16-foot drop (it's where the tv was, okay?) and watch my afternoon cartoons, play video games or read books. I loved reading books, and I'd be up in that loft for hours at a time with my boxcar children books. Sometimes, my friends and I would hang out in the loft. I think if their parents had seen the loft, they might not have let them come over to our house anymore.
But one of the things I remember most about the loft was that since there was no room above it, and no rooms around it (except the kitchen on the other side of one wall), you could hear the rain very very well. So I would go up to the loft whenever it started raining hard. I say this because when it wasn't raining too hard, I would most definetly be going on adventures in the woods with my friends. But when the heavy rain started and the thunder started pounding, I would go up to the loft, with the lights off, and just lay there, listening. I would even fall asleep sometimes laying there in the dark, listeining to the rain. Since the loft was in the garage, the sound was even louder because of the empty space. I would lay there until mom called me in for dinner or something. It was very nice. And I knew I was safe in the loft. My Daddy built it, so why wouldn't I be? Although I do remember almost falling off of the edge, and that scared the heck out of me. But mostly, I was comfortable with the edge. I would sleep with a leg and an arm hanging off of the edge, or I would be dangling my feet down, or just lay on my stomach and look down at the garage from right there on the edge.
Everytime it rains that hard, I think about the loft, and how I'd love to go back and take a nap in it. But sadly, in the winter of 1999, we tore the loft down because we were moving to Memphis, TN. The people who wanted to buy our house didn't want a loft in their garage, and wouldn't buy our house until we took it down. So down it went. My safe place. My old friend. My loft.
R.I.P Loft
1996-1999
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