Kristen Blog

I was having the BEST week, at least partially motivated by a very special secret I was keeping.  (In case you don't know me, I am the absolute worst at keeping secrets.  I can't even keep a secret about myself.  I will do something terribly stupid - it happens quite frequently - and the first thing I will shout is, "Don't tell Matt!"  And, then, the first thing I do when I see him is blurt it all out.  I am so George Washington, only extra.  I can't tell a lie, and I can't not tell things I'd do best to just keep to myself.  However, this secret was precious to me.  This secret...I was definitely keeping...between me and a very few close friends.  And I was oh, so, happy.  But...THEN...I went to the dentist.  Who the (bad word) goes to the dentist and ends up coming home with a stinking home sleep study kit?!!  Ya girl, that's who.  (HUGE eye roll.  Unfathomably long eye lids.  Long, LOUD sigh.) I retrospect, I probably should NOT have yelle

Weekends are for catching up on paperwork, staying in my pajamas all day and decompressing from the stress of secondary trauma exposure and an intensely heavy workload, in general.  It is not, I must admit, for peopling.  I avoid peopling on the weekends as much as possible. I mean, people are great and all.  (Collectively, I hate them.  But, individually, I sure do love them.)  Still, one lady can only take so much peopling before she needs a break.  I personally believe I people more than most throughout the week, so that excuses me risking the potential of picking up an anti-social reputation on the weekends, don't you think?  Anyway, just in case you happen to be a close friend and you find me avoiding contact on the weekend, let's be clear.  It's not you.  It's me. So, this prefaces my reactive offense at the sound of the doorbell on a weekend day.  UGH!  NO!  Not today.  I cannot people today.  Who the (bad word) has come to interrupt my hard-earned solac

It started as a simple suggestion...an impulsive and spontaneous thought, like most other ideas that come straight out of my head and onto my tongue (I tend to talk and think at the same time...a personal flaw...).  I think it was the loss of my sister that spurred the idea.  For over a year, I just wished I could close my eyes and join her.  I was tired...so...so...tired.  I was tired and sad...sad like "I can't breathe" sad.  Sad like someone came in and sucked out all of the oxygen sad.  It was a deep, depressed grief, at one moment intensely sharp and painful, and the next so dull and dreary.  At times, I felt as if all the color of the world had faded out, leaving everything a  Wizard of Oz , Kansas gray.  Either pain was tough to bear. I was desperate to feel joy again.   I knew I could.  I have recovered from grief before.  It is a nasty part of life, really.  Of course, I'd never had to recover from this grief, and there were times I wasn't sure I ever

Oh my goodness, you guys!  I almost missed out on the single most important moment of my week, because I am so busy and so overwhelmed...and I was just about to not do this crazy Halloween we have been doing for the last 16 years.  Because, here's the deal...the appeal of just doing a simple neighborhood thing, which is what, it seems like, EVERYONE ELSE and their brother is doing, was soooooo intense for me this year.  I just so wanted to take it EASY.  Even though this was a lighter week, I have still been working lots and then putting out fires (no...not literal.  Figurative) all around me throughout the late afternoon and evenings. You guys.  I almost didn't go see Grandma Carlene.  😢 From what I have been hearing, my grandma hasn't been very pleasant lately.  Not a huge surprise, since she is EXTREMELY strong-willed, and very much all of 95 years old.  You guys!!  NINETY-FIVE. Anyway, I have heard she's been a little cranky lately, and I thought maybe it

I am sitting by the window in our new chair (another blessed hand-me-down!), and it is obnoxiously big for the space in our bedroom. It takes up way too much space, and it is REALLY awkwardly placed. But it is ohhhh so comfy.   AND...I finally have my window seat for reading, relaxing, recovering.  I have ALWAYS wanted a window seat! I used to go to work with people.  Now that I think about it, I was always going to work with people.  I think my parents just didn't know what to do with me a lot of the time.  (If I wasn't going to work with someone, then I was tagging along with my middle sister...and that was a REAL annoyance to her.)  I was 7 years younger than my older sister, and I remember going to work with her one day.  She worked in the deli at a grocery store, and since there was no one to watch me, I tagged along with my book and sat in the booths reading all day.  (I cannot, by the way, fathom the whining which would ensue from such a suggestion to my current