So This is Christmas

What a lovely Christmas we had with my side of the family in Kansas! No snow this time, though they did receive almost an inch on the day we left. Ain't that some "Burch Luck?"

This year, it was a different Christmas for us - much quieter. Not just because it was the first Christmas without Grandma Burch or Uncle Joe, though their absence was sadly felt. 

Our 2015 Christmas will be known as the one where Uncle Zane couldn't speak. Not that he didn't want to, he is a lawyer, for by, and his voice is usually the loudest in the room; the one heard above all others. 

In October, my brother-in-lawyer, Zane L. Todd, Jr. was diagnosed with Squamous Cell Carcinoma. The tumor was removed, as were his tonsils, which is where the cancer began, and the fight was on.

He began aggressive treatments with both radiation and chemotherapy. The radiation he handled well, but the chemotherapy robbed him of most of his energy. He was unable to keep down food and fight off the nausea, so he typically spent the first 2-3 days after the chemo treatment either bent over a bucket or in the hospital on I.V. fluids. He lost a lot of weight, lost the ability to salivate, and the sores on the back of his throat were so painful that it hurt him to swallow or speak. After a month of not being able to eat foods, a feeding tube was inserted in Zane's abdomen so that he could receive nourishment, but even that food did not stay with him long - so great was his nausea.

Two days before Christmas, Zane's doctors decided not to give him his final chemo treatment - but only stick with the radiation. It was really good news for him and the family, as they felt the treatments were all working fine and it would probably hurt him more to go through the treatment than to actually administer.

So yeah, in all - cancer sucks and is bad and all that hoopla. We believe Zane is now on the way to a complete recovery.

What this meant for the Burch family, was a very quiet Christmas. That's not necessarily a bad thing, except that Zane brings a lot of light to the chaotic action of Christmas morning, or any party where we are all together. Again, his voice is the one that is heard above all others.

So a room in which Zane is sitting but not speaking is almost eerily quiet, if you don't count the kids (who range in age now from 6 to 23 - big shout out to my daughter Austyn, who turned 21 on Christmas day - WHOOP).

There was still excitement, and ripping paper, and pouting kids, and whispers about whether or not Santa was real, and was the turkey in the oven yet, and how about some more coffee...

It wasn't a bad silence. Just different. A time to reflect on what it means to be a family, how much we have grown, how big the kids are getting; how accomplished. 

But mostly, this Christmas, it was a time to be thankful. For health, for prosperity, and for God, who gave us the Savior, the one to be heard above all others.

 Rocky Mosler stopped by on Christmas eve to speak with Zane about what 

having the same cancer had done for him and to show Zane that there really 

IS light at the end of the tunnel.

                     

I WON!!!

Yes - you read the meme correctly - I'M  A WINNER!

My new novel, Vita Bellum, now has 54,000+ words. I'm well on my way to becoming a published author. 

Thank you.

This, for me, is only my third greatest accomplishment - following the births of my two children. But to write over 50K words in one month is quite a feat!

Of course, the words are mostly crap and National Novel Writing Month (November) should be followed up by National Editing Month (December). Whew! Total drivel - but I will add that some of the scenes I wrote are not only graphic and detailed, they are an example of fantastic story telling. I'm not just patting myself on the back here, folks! It's just good writing.

Not all of it. I feel like I should keep adding that. But enough good writing that I don't totally hate what I wrote and I have yet to delete it because of thinking "Oh Lord, what was I thinking, this is crap?" as I have done in the past.

So far, I have three people reading it for me just for S and G's and two of them have said that it's good stuff. The third person hasn't spoken to me since I sent it to him, but it's my nephew and it's likely he hasn't even read it yet, so I'll just pretend he's so in awe of his aunt's literary writing skills that he remains speechless.

Look for it on the shelves some day. Vita Bellum (that's Latin for "Life at War") by Angela Degelman.

My Husband and Reality

I really need to get Alan onto that "Extreme Cheapskates" reality show! He has got to be the only husband around who, when I say "I have errands to run" actually hears "I have plans to spend all of our hard-earned money on things that we don't need and leave us destitute and living in a van down by the river."

I mean, I work too. Sometimes, I am even working two jobs (though I secretly love working concessions, I don't tell him that because it would rob me of the times I get to say "For crying out loud, I slave away, working TWO JOBS, so that I can buy things we don't need..."). So what if I have such a great membership with Overstock.com that all my shipping is free? I mean, it's free of a monetary charge - but unless my packages come when the hubby is NOT at home, I have to pay the price of hearing him gripe.

What can I say? I like to shop. I like to give gifts, I like my kids to have high thread-count sheets, and what the heck - I needed MORE shoe BOXES - to store stuff in.

That's all.

Father's Day and Sarcasm - It's The Same Thing in my Family

I called my dad today to wish him a happy father's day.

He replied "You're Welcome."

Sure, he's 72 and by all accounts, that could be a statement to make children of elderly parents be wary (God help me if my mother ever finds out I referred to her and my daddy as 'elderly').
But with my dad - I knew he was just trying to be funny.

His words are typically slurred, whether from the stroke he had a few years ago or the beers he undoubtedly had been drinking all day, it doesn't matter. Whatever he is saying, it's in jest and if you don't know him, you might very well think he was a crabbit old man or a marble or two short of a set.

Dad Burch - he's a hoot and a half and he taught me to be the same. I never knew there was any other way to deal with any given situation than with sarcasm. I doubt I was much of a conversationalist when I was a toddler, but my mother tells me stories all the time of my dad having heated conversations with me in my high chair. I was babbling, he was telling jokes. If I didn't laugh, he would make fun of me drooling or not being able to walk.

The thing is, when you grow up with the kind of sarcastic and acerbic wit that I was raised with, you have an incredible mechanism for coping with stress of many calibers. You also have a tendency to get into trouble; yes, even as an adult I find it hard to not use my sense of humor in any given situation.

My dad and his buddies, right out of high school, started their own fraternity. None of them were in college at the time, but it seemed like the thing to do. They called themselves "Signa Fi Nothin" and probably threw more parties than the Greek clubs combined.

Then my dad joined the air force and became an airplane mechanic and used his humor and wit to entertain other servicemen during the Vietnam war. My dad was never deployed; but he worked on numerous aircraft that were damaged from the war and it was enough for him to know that the airmen getting shipped overseas on his planes would be in need of a laugh or two before they boarded the plane for take-off. So he entertained the masses. Many of those blessed servicemen never came back, may God rest their souls. Surely dad was no Bob Hope, but he still made people laugh.

I owe you for my sense of humor dad. Now, if I can just get me a pick-up truck so that I can have a mobile garden, I'll be set! If you can read the article below, my dad was recognized in our hometown of Columbus, KS, for his innovative "mobile garden". He planted tomatoes and cucumbers in containers that he keeps in the back of his truck. When it rains, he drives around town to water his garden. If it's too cold or hot, he pulls the truck into the garage.

Warped Tour - Version 2012

It is decidedly difficult to blog about individual experiences and/or events and not portray every little thing as an inside joke, so please bear with me as I attempt to hash out this years Warped Tour and make it understandable for anyone who was not able to attend.

Okay, back up - let me rephrase. How can I make something that was a sheer blast for myself carry over so that it's as much fun for someone to read about? I think the only answer is: I can't. But I'm dumb enough to try.

Vans Warped Tour 2012 - Dallas version was hot, dry and almost boring. Not that the trip itself wasn't fun. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a crazy roadtrip? I missed my bestie Ginger, who was busy taking her nursing boards so that meant that I was left by myself to escort three teenage girls to the Emo State Fair and Rodeo. My daughter, her bff K and her friend A who came all the way from Chicago to spend the week with my A and attend VWT2012.  Pretty sure they had fun.

Let's start with people watching. The people watching at these events is where the fun is for me. I could have easily titled this Blog - OMFG You Ruined Your Ear Lobes - but it's easier to just over share.

Before it was even noon, I saw a lady who brought her two-year old (why?) and a girl in a VERY revealing Wonder Woman costume. Couldn't be topped by young Miss "I have autographs from every band I've ever loved and just to prove my loyalty I had them tattooed ALL OVER my body." I bet she'll NEVER regret that.

Writing

I attempted to think of a catchier title for this particular blog post, but as I am sitting here listening to 80's music on Spotify, I fear I'm losing all sensibility and creativity to Air Supply, Journey and Flock of Seagulls. 

What is this madness, and is it only temporary?

The internet is a hindrance to the subsets of my mind because every time I try to look something up or research a topic, Google makes me 'run a rabbit' with my thoughts and I somehow, ALWAYS end up just Googling images or articles about Scott Caan.

For an under-tall actor, the man has a body that won’t quit, a face that melts my soul and the best part about him; he’s a writer! A damn good one at that!

[His latest play, No Way Around But Through, is currently running at the Falcon Theatre in Burbank, CA http://www.falcontheatre.com/ through July 8; and no – I’m not getting paid to print this]

Enough about Mr. Caan, because this post was not originally intended to be about him – that’s just the way he pops in and out of my head most days.

I just worry sometimes that my brain doesn’t have the ability to run through the colorful plethora of thoughts and emotions that pop up when I’m writing (and oh Lord, Beastie Boys just came on my play list; I’ll never get through this Blog post…)

What I mean by that (the statement not pertaining to the Boys) is that I don’t always type as fast as the thoughts swirl around in my brain and by the time I finish one thought, another has started and before I can even rationalize that thought, three more are bull dozing it out of the way, flailing about and screaming “PICK ME! PICK ME!”

Is it like this for every writer? Do I have to find a way to separate these thoughts, divide them into subcategories and file them away for later use? Or should I just keep doing what I usually do and muddle through?

Corey Hart? Really? I had this cassette my junior year of high school…’You can never SURRENDERRR’

Okay, perhaps I should write without the music turned up…in case you haven’t guessed it by now, this is called muddling through.  Not just my thoughts but the visual and audio stimulants that surround me on a daily basis that my brain is not able to tune out, yet no doctor seems to think I have attention deficit disorder.

SQUIRREL!

But I digress, because that’s a good segue to my final thought which is this: my ability to deviate from a topic but jump right back to it after I express a more current thought is decidedly tainted.

I really was just going to blog about Scott Caan.

Some of My Best Friends, I've Never Met

With technology dramatically changing the interface and interactions of friendship, the internet has become a realm of possibilities. I'm not writing here about the perverts, possible kidnappers, or other facets of the DARK side of the Internet. I'm talking about REAL friends. Real people, that while you may never have met them in person, still have made such an impact on your life that you consider them a friend.


I first met many of of my "Internet Friends" on a discussion group for Days of Our Lives (yes, the Soap Opera). We started out talking about the soap, but we quickly progressed to learning more about each other, so much so that the creator of the discussion group created a "Personal Topics" (http://mediadomain.com/cgi-bin/netforum/dool_fan/a.cgi/1)  page so that the people who were really getting miffed at things other than soap talk would stop having nuclear melt downs on the site.  As such, the DOOLies were born.


So, about 1/3 of the original DOOLies remain at Media Domain (I find that I don't even visit that much anymore), while many of us have progressed to the age of Facebook and have become online friends in this capacity.


What always struck me as odd was how easily we transferred online acquaintances into actual 3-D friendships. Many of us have met each other in person, share commonalities such as same aged kids, divorce, re-marriage, and a lot of the difficulties of every day life.  These we have been able to share, whether pseudo-anonymously or in person. 


My husband still finds it odd that I could be "friends" with somebody I've never met, but with my fellow DOOLies, I don't even give it a second thought.  It's like we always 'were.'


In actuality, I started this particular blog in July of 2010. In that time, we have lost some DOOLies to the Angels, and while that makes me very sad, it's a comfort to know that we have always been there for each other and likely always will be.


I can't discount the number of arguments and board fights we have witnessed and taken part of over the years (I'm thinking it's been since 1996 - but I can't remember exact dates). We were either in the thick of it, or we had our lawn chairs and margarita machines out and we lurked on the sidelines.


Through it all, I think some of these DOOL friends, though I have never met them in person, are some of the best friends I have ever had.


Now, I'm off to lurk over at 'the board.'  Maybe I'll see you there.