FRANCE: Day 1

I'm finally sitting down to finish the posts I started while we were in France. Sit back, grab a glass of wine and enjoy :) because we're going to FRANCE!

DAY 1 -- Monday -- BAYEUX

We arrived to Charles de Gaulle around 0930 Monday morning (0230 CST) and [thankfully] found our luggage. After brushing my teeth in the bathroom sink, we finally found the rental car desk and waited for AN HOUR to get the car. Mind you, there were only four people in front of Brad while we waited -- why it took an hour, I'll never know, but we began to see the French culture right before our very eyes. We hopped in and Brad braved driving in the city with very little sleep to get us to Bayeux. Honestly, it wasn't that terrible -- the worst part was deciphering the signs into English and figuring out what their street signs mean.

We stopped along the way for lunch and ended up at KFC. Try ordering two chicken strips, corn on the cob and a small drink in French. Because it was a small town, the cashier didn't know much English. I ended up with an extra strip, which I guess isn't bad for the language barrier that was in play.

We arrived in Bayeux around 3pm, found our hotel, checked in, dropped off our stuff and immediately started roaming the town. We were working on about 3 hours of collective sleep in about 24 hours and were EXHAUSTED, but the only way to beat jet lag is to push through the tired times. So we found the Tapisserie de Bayeux (Bayeux Tapestry) that depicts the Norman invasion on England. 75 meters of hand-stitched war scenes with intricate details...amazing. They didn't allow pictures inside, so go hereto get an idea of what I'm talking about.

(street shot in Bayeux)

(Where the Tapestry is held)

We wandered around and found the Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Bayeux. I know Europe has about a million cathedrals, but I'm learning that you have to go inside as many as you can because they're all so different. Aside from the massive pipe organ and bright stained glass, the coolest thing about this one was the tree planted out back in 1797. 213 years old and still going strong!

(Cathedrale Notre Dame - Bayeux)

(213-year old tree)

We walked around a bit more and decided to eat dinner then turn in early.

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I woke up extra-early this morning to work out. We have a full day ahead of us -- Bible study at 9:30, last-minute errand or two (which I haven't told Brad about yet), airport, then an international flight across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris. And I still got up at 6 am to go to the gym. Pulled up and thought to myself, "Wow. This is going to be AWESOME! I'm the only one here. Ha! Those fitness enthusiasts that I see all the time here can't even get up early on the weekend to work out, and I'm here!" Meanwhile, I grab my water, towel, iPhone, headphones and member card. I get out of the car and walk up to the door. "Man, it's dark in there. No. Noo. NO!!!" It seems that 24 Hour Fitness isn't really open 24 hours a day. I mean, it is Monday through Friday, but most definitely not on Saturday and Sunday. Nope, only 7a - 8p. So I scrunched up my face, turned myself around, got back in my car at 6:15 and came back home. Shame on you, 24 Hour Fitness. You should rename yourself 24/5 Fitness.

i am alive!

although you wouldn't be able to tell from this pitiful excuse for a blog!


i could give you all reason after reason after excuse about why i've been away for so long, but none of that really matters, now does it? what matters is that i'm here, blogging. for all five of you to read with joy :)

MckMama does entries every once in a while that are entitled "Stream of Consciousness" and i feel that in order to give you an inkling as to why i haven't blogged in a while, i'll copy her and give it a try. Here goes...

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Work has been busy, but not necessarily because we've had a lot of patients, but because I've gotten myself into things simply by not being able to verbalize the word, "NO." I mean, I'm glad that I'm busy because if I sat at home more than I do now, I'd probably be bored out of my mind and that typically results in spending money and I really can't go and do a thing like that. It's always weird for me to say that I'd like more patients in the unit where I work because it's an ICU for kids. It's not like I want them to be sick, it's just that if they're sick enough to be in the ICU, I hope they come to our ICU. Yes, that's better.

Brad's work has not been so busy. Although, you wouldn't be able to tell because he goes in early and comes home about the same time as if he were busy. I guess he's just hoping people's trucks break down. Because it sounds better for him to say that than for me to say, "I hope people's kids get sick." He's still pushing through school. One music assignment and calculus test at a time. And I'm trying to learn to be patient with hearing where he'll be enrolled next fall. But waaaay down deep inside, there's a voice screaming at the top of its lungs, AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH! Just tell me already! :) No really, we talk about it at least three times a week -- as if we hadn't talked about it three times the week before. Dallas? Maybe. I mean, he's already been accepted to UNT (YAY Sara and Jeff and Callum!), but it's his third choice. So if it's the only choice, YAY! He's going. But really, we're holding out for either A&M or U of H. And if it IS A&M, then that means a move for us. And let me tell you how excited my manager is about that one. Sometimes it's nice to be wanted. Same goes for our small group at church. I think secretly deep down, when we ask them to pray that God put us where we're supposed to be, they're actually saying, "Please God, let it be here in Houston." And that's okay, because we like them, too! There are just so many "ifs" right now and not being able to plan my life four months in advance is sooo not like me!

But planning my life three weeks in advance is something different, because we're going to PARIS!!! France, not Texas (because one husband of said small group actually said, "Wow, ten days is Paris...is there really that much to do in a small Texas town?" Ahh, Patrick). So we are planning our trip -- more what to wear and what we need than where we'll be going to see whatever it is we'll be seing. I'm excited. Acutally, I'm ecstatic!!! I just have so much to do between now and then for work and my best friend's wedding that I can't get to that point yet. I did, however, buy new shoes that will hopefully be good for walking 8+ hours a day around the city of love. And a couple of dresses. Because, you understand, nothing I have is Paris-worthy...that calls for a new wardrobe. (I kid, I kid.)

Speaking of kids, let me tell you about my dad's lastest joke...well, not really my dad...just follow me here. So my parents recently built a house out in the boondocks of Marshall (didn't know the boondocks could have its own boondocks, did ya?). And Dad's been talking about getting some animals of sorts to actually make it a 'farm'. Well, he had a horse a few years back but sold it when they sold the trailer. So now he's talking goats. Yes, goats. And for some reason, when I think goats, I think trash. And well, my parents aren't trashy people! So I advised my dad with all the wisdom I hold, that he should not buy goats because if he'd had them when I still had people to bring home with me (besides my husband), I wouldn't come home. Because they'd think we were trashy people. So I get an email from Facebook that our home church's music director has left a comment on my wall that reads -- "Your daddy just brought the cutest little "kids" by to show us...said they'll be better than a bush hog!" Kids? Hmm...maybe he and mom got a dog like they talked about! Cool, wonder what it is. Oh wait, bush hog? Huh? Kid? Bush Hog? GOATS?!? Well, I declare...in the middle of the outlet mall plaza with best friend Leah in tow, I make a ridiculous noise (kind of like a shriek, but really a laugh) and profess, "GOATS?!?!?" I immediately pick up the phone and call my dad and pretty enthusiastically begin questioning, "Why on earth would you wants goats?!? They're for trashy people and you are NOT trashy people! Why couldn't you get the dog at the pound you wanted instead? They can actually come inside and they don't eat trash and..." Then I realize he's laughing hysterically and trying to tell me there are no goats...yet. But if they did buy goats, it'd be a great tax deduction because then they'll actually be a 'farm'. "So there are no goats, Dad?" No, no goats. Hmph. Fell that for that one...

A Heavy Heart

This weekend has been eye-opening for me. While we mixed in a few fun things to do, each and every day brought on more news of despair.

Friday evening, we took dinner to a couple in our Bible study that just had a baby. In almost all other situations, that's a happy occasion -- please follow me here. I'm not saying it's not a happy occasion for them, because I know how truly grateful they are to have conceived and carried through term in the first place. It's just that their daughter was diagnosed after birth with Trisomy 21 -- Down's Syndrome in layman's terms. I have a special place in my heart for Down's kids because all of my few experiences with them have been positive. They are the sweetest, kindest, most caring people that have a heart of gold (although often "broken" with congenital anomalies). This couple will, no doubt, be using every ounce of their energy raising a special needs child for the rest of their lives, but let me tell you. If any couple can do it, it's them. We often ask, "Why, God? Why did this happen to such a great couple?" I think if we could audibly hear Him, He'd respond with, "Because who better than they?"

On the ride home from their home, I received a text from a coworker about one of our very special former patient's passing. I held back the tears. This 2 1/2 year old came to our hospital at one week (or younger) of age in what seemed to be a state of septic shock (in which the body is overwhelmed with infection). I had the privilege of taking over her admission after she'd been there for a mere 3 hours. Let me tell you...she kicked. My. Butt. The next twelve hours that unfolded would define the rest of her life. She ended up on multiple vasoactive drips (to help regulate her blood pressure and in short, keep her alive). She had an ECHO (ultrasound of her heart) that showed a very serious and rare combination of several heart defects. She ended up with a chromosomal abnormality that would determine the medications she took for the rest of her short life. But she fought. She fought through multiple hospitalizations and surgeries. She ended up with a feeding tube because doctors didn't believe she could eat by mouth. She did. She was on ECMO twice in her life because doctors didn't believe she would survive without it. She did. She was actually flown to Dallas to be worked up for a heart transplant because doctors didn't believe she would make it through that specific hospital stay with out it. She did. She was a fighter. She was last admitted due to an infection in her lungs that almost killed her --actually it did twice, as she "coded" and had to be revived multiple times. We kidded that she had nine lives. But we just knew we would watch her walk across an elementary school stage at her kindergarten graduation. She passed away Friday night. I'm not sure of the details but I do know that her memory -- her legacy -- will live on in the PICU nurses and physicians that were honored to take care of her. Her family was there every. Single. Day. That doesn't always happen where I work. Not everybody can get away from their lives to see their kids on their umpteenth admission because of work and other constraints. They did. They made time. They loved her like nobody's business. And so did we. Have fun in Heaven with Addi, sweet girl. Wear those angel wings proudly and dance all day long like you did for us in the unit!

I learned of a few other things this weekend that struck my heart -- another death of a former PICU patient and the divorce of a great Christian couple after adultery found its way into their marriage. I have never in my life felt so compelled to live for what God has intended of me. In fact, that very topic was the basis of our Bible study today (see how He works?). I may not be the most talented person on this earth, but I know he's given me the gift of caring and gifting and loving on sick people and that's exactly what I intend to do. That and love my husband :)

ID, please

You're at the movie theater, going to see a rated R (for violence, of course) movie and they want to ensure you're actually over the age or 17. They ask for I.D. You give them your driver's license. The same goes for buying cigarettes (which I've never done) and wine. It happens when you're getting through security at the airport and when you write a check. And what tells the cashier or security guard that you are who you claim to be? A plastic card with your name, address, date of birth and picture on it. That's it. That's how they identify you.

But what REALLY identifies who you are? Your hair color? The clothes you wear? The things that make you tick? What about the words you use when things are rough? Or the way you react to someone who's really just chapped your hide? Is it the amount of letters that you have behind your name? Is it the size of shoes you wear? Or the house you live in? Or the size of the diamond on your left ring finger? Or the fact that you even have a diamond on your left ring finger?

I would hope that I'd be identified to anyone who doesn't know me solely by the things listed above. Because, sure, those things are part of who you are. The clothes I choose to wear is part of my personality. My shoe size is the same as thousands of other people and is just one small feature of the physical body God made for me. The diamond on my left ring finger was chosen by my husband and most definitely defines the part of me that tells the world, "I'm taken and I'm committed to that." But those things aren't all of who I am.

I am, in short, a daughter of the King. He directs my path and I may choose to follow or not to follow. While I wonder where I'll be in five years, He's already got it all lined up. He is the ultimate event planner -- my dream job in my second life! He's got the perfect house picked out, with just the right number of kids already a-brewin' in my womb. He has the perfect jobs lined up for Brad and for me. He is the reason I get up every morning, because without him, I would not have air to breathe.

My prayer is that my life is a living testimony of my relationship with Him. Am I perfect? Absolutely not. Do I let a not-so-nice word or two slip every once in a while? Of course. Do I get caught up in the negativity and gossip-filled atmosphere at work? Occasionally. Do I strive to be better about not doing so? You bet! Can I do it on my own? Psshh, never!

He has given me parents that chose to raise me in His Church. They weren't always perfect, but they were perfect for me. I have an awesome husband that loves me despite my faults and because of my strengths. He's blessed me with friends -- some that I met when I was five; others that I met two years, or even six months ago -- that have consoled, rejoiced and supported me in everything I've ever done. These people have helped mold and shape me throughout the years and will continue doing so. I am extremely wealthy in that regard. I am a daughter of the King. And that's what defines who I am. That is my true identity.

'Tis The Season

'Tis the season...



It is definitely the time of year that weeks go by and you realize there are still things to do on your to-do list from a month ago that you still haven't gotten around to doing.

Brad and I celebrated our very FIRST anniversary two weeks ago and I had this really cool idea for a post that I just let slip away from my mind. So you get this instead :) Our gift to ourselves was the trip to Napa so we took it pretty easy on the day of and spent the Sunday as we normally do -- Brad studying for finals, me napping and grocery shopping. It was bliss. It was also our last week of training for our first half marathon, so we tried our best to run, eat right and rest...

Speaking of marriage and half marathons, on the long four-hour, leg-stiffening, constantly-hungry-because-my-metabolism-is-high drive, I thought about some seemingly obvious correlations of the two. During any sort of training program for long-distance running, there are ups and downs, highs and lows, points where you're on top of the world and those where you could really just lie down and let someone bury you six feet under. First year of marriage? Just the same. You start training thinking that it will all be no big deal. You'll start out kind of slow (like getting used to each other's potentially-annoying habits) with some strength and conditioning along the way (I compare this to Bible study and counseling, if present). All week long, you prepare yourself for your weekend long runs; in marriage, you're constantly preparing for something difficult...you've got to learn to get through the small battles to endure the large ones. You set out to conquer your long run with doubt, but surprisingly feel the runner's "high" when it's all said and done. Sound familiar, married friends? This continues until your short runs become the same length as your long runs started out and your long runs are just ridiculously long. In a marriage, you begin to realize that the other has certain habits that drive you crazy at first, but you eventually come to expect. Those more trying times become a thing of the past as you learn more about each other everyday.

And then there's race day. You wake up early, eat an energizing breakfast and then start realizing that you just got up two hours before the gun goes off so you can torture yourself for 13.1 miles. You reach the starting line with 20,000 other people doing the exact same thing you are and the adrenaline starts pumping. The gun fires. The runners cheer. 14 minutes later, you actually cross the starting line and begin your journey. Lookers-on are yelling for you by name, encouraging you, guarding streets and lining the path. Families are out early on a cold, foggy morning to root for thousands of strangers because they know the encouragement is a necessity. The hill at mile 4 just about kills you before you realize, "hey, it's over and now I have a little relief." There are pit stops along the way in case you need refreshment. Before you know it, mile 11 is upon you and the my-knees-and-hips-and-ankles-are-really-hurting-so-bad-I-think-I-might-have-to-stop thoughts begin to loom. You shake it off and they return. But you can't stop now. You're TWO MILES away from the finish line. When you actually get there, you breathe, you stretch, you try to stay on both feet because perhaps your glucose level is low (thank you, Jelly Belly Sports Beans) and you're greeted with a Finisher Medal and t-shirt. And then there's beer (that I did not consumer because the mere thought of it was nauseating) and water and fruit and bagels and free chiropractic adjustments and photographers snapping pictures. It's over and you hurt and you have a quarter-sized blister on your foot and you smell really badly and then you think, "that was awesome! Let's do it again next year." Stupid. I mean, really?

And marriage? Yeah, pretty much the exact same thing. There's the excitement of being a wife. There are people congratulating you and giving you words of wisdom. Then comes the hill at month 4; you spent how much on what? You mean you didn't know the dirty hamper had a purpose? And that dishes can, in fact, go into the dishwasher and not camp out in the sink all night? And then you start to not care as much because you get a random card in the mail or phone call from a friend. You feel the pain of the first big fight. And then you get some refreshment; hear just the right sermon at church or a friend or parent says just the right thing and everything's back to normal. You learn to lean on each other and talk and fight fairly and compromise, for Heaven's sake, because both of you can't be right every time (!). Then you look up, the first year's out of the way, you breathe a sigh of thanksgiving and think to yourself, "I can't wait to do this again next year!"

I'm Dreaming...

...of a White Christmas. And it actually happened. Granted, it's not quite Christmas yet, but the decorations are up so we're close enough! Meteorologists started predicting snow in Houston at the beginning of this week and because it's Houston, I was skeptical. For once, they were right and it's been snowing pretty hard since about 11:00 this morning! People from the north are probably laughing hysterically at us right now, because [obviously] Houstonians are freaking. out. This is the story of the week! But hey, it iced in '07, snowed last year at this time (while we were in New York on our honeymoon) and is happening again.

Brad and I love cold weather and very rarely turn on the heater. It's supposed to get down into the 20s tonight, so we'll see if we can bear it. One good thing about living in a third story apartment is that we can mooch off the downstairs neighbors' heat :) For now, this will just have to work. (I'm going to brag just a little -- I made that fire all by myself and have kept it going for almost an hour!)