How do you say thank you?

Have you ever seen someone in dressed in a military uniform and wanted to simply say, “Thank you.”? I know I have. I feel a little awkward most times and, regretably, let the feeling ebb and then I feel bad for hours.

This is something that I can do without feeling like a geek. It is simple and to the point. I would like to see this become a common response whenever I meet up with the men and women who serve our country and protect our freedom so valiantly. I really do appreciate the sacrifice they make.

It only takes a moment to watch this video. Check it out.

http://www.gratitudecampaign.org/index.php

Ode to a lump

I spent 3 years working on Dawson’s Creek. The hours were horrendous, anywhere between 12 - 16 hours a day, five days a week. Pretty much the only time Ed saw me was when I was sleeping. I think he missed me because he wrote this for me. I share this with his permission.

(Disclaimer by Ed) This was written on a very lonely night, on a very long first season of Dawson’s Creek. My deepest regrets and sincere apology to the estate of Dr. Seuss.

O’ me o’ my there’s a lump in my bed

It is quivering and snoring so I know it’s not dead

It’s lumpy and bumpy and sometimes a grump

But I’m madly in love with this cute little lump.

It must appear in the middle of the night,

Cuz it is always there in the morning sunlight.

It’s nothing I dread, this lump in my bed.

It just quivers and snores, so I know it’s not dead.

It’s a dainty little lump, just a small mound,

with hair sticking out of the covers in a small little crown.

I pat it and kiss it and bid it good bye

and go off to work with a tear in my eye,

knowing it will be gone before there is a moon in the sky.

Tonight, all alone I will go to bed,

knowing in the morning there will be a lump in my bed.

It will always be here, this I don’t fret.

It’s the greatest little lump I have ever met.

When all is done and all is said,

I’m madly in love with this lump in my bed.

composed by Ed “Shake a stick” Andress

sobriety is not for sissies

I spent a lot of my younger years blaming other people for my negative behavior. My Mom was the biggest catch all for what ever I was going through. I blamed her for my lousy childhood, for my not trusting people, for my abandonment issues AND for my alcoholism. I was an anti-social mess and none of the mess was my fault. Just in case you don’t recognize this junk, it is called DENIAL.

I got a rude awakening in my early sobriety. I was complaining to an AA member who happened to be clean and sober for about 2 years longer than I was. I was on what is known in AA circles as the pity pot. It sounds something like this; “poor me, poor me, pour me another drink.”

As I was complaining to this woman about my crappy childhood for about the 40th time, she looked me straight in the eye and told me like it is. “You have shared these experiences with me before Coni. It is true. You had a lousy childhood. But there is something else your childhood is. It is long! You are 24 years old now. Most people call that an adult. It is time for you to take responsibility for how you chose to deal with your crappy childhood.”

I could feel the fire rising up within me and starting to shoot out my eyeballs and burn tiny holes in her face. I bowed up my back like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse and then… all the wind left my sails. I had absolutely no response as the truth of her words sank into my being. I just stood there staring at her for a minute or two. I swallowed my pride and shut my mouth. I walked back in to the AA meeting, moved to a chair right in front of the speaker which is where my sick butt belonged. I listened as hard as I could to the speakers who shared their experience, strength and hope with me that day and I did not drink.

Getting clean and sober is not for sissies.

People and friends and co-workers, oh my.

Whew. Ed and I accomplished a lot today. I wrote the last post while coloring my hair. Actually I had already cut it and applied the color, then I wrote during the 45 minutes it takes for the color to develop.

Ed finished making his Bavarian cheesecakes for the parties while my hair color processed.

We managed to:

•  go shopping for a gift,
• eat soup & salad @ Olive Garden,
• attend a house warming (one Bavarian cheesecake),
• and attend a retirement party together (the second Bavarian cheesecake).

I left Ed at the last party and went downtown to meet some of the folks I have been working with for Sushi. Ed did not care to come with me for that one. He says he does not eat bait.

I feel very blessed to have so many people in my life that I have enjoyed spending time with today. The discussions that I took part in today ran the gamut. Each one was interesting to me for a variety of reasons. From spiritual matters to hair color and whether eel tastes better cooked or raw.

It is curious how all this fell on one day. After the less than stellar week I had, I was grateful for some fun stuff to do. Because I am a people person this was a most enjoyable day. God is so good to me. He knows what I need and when I need it most. He has been working a lot of stuff out in my life lately. It is kind of exciting.

Happy Saturday

What a gorgeous Saturday! I used to love Saturdays as a kid. No school, cartoons in the morning and then out to play for the whole afternoon.

My folks divorced when I was 2 years old. I don’t have good childhood memories of family bonding times. All my siblings are quite a bit older than I am and my poor Mom was alcoholic for as long as I can remember.

That combination causes a little girl to use her imagination. I used to make up stories in my head and act them out. Of course, I was always the main character of my escapades.

For a time, we lived in an apartment building in Weymouth, Mass. We had a long garage in the back parking lot that was divided into stalls for the tenants to rent. My Mom rented a space to park her car in. It was the magical, wooded domain behind this garage that captured my Saturday afternoons. There was a huge hunk of granite that had been blown up out of a nearby quarry. I called it The Pointed Rock, naturally. It was shaped like a triangle with a great pinnacle that was custom made for climbing to the top of while imagining scenes of Mount Kilimanjaro or Mount Everest. It had a glorious ledge on the side of it where I used to snuggle in and look out at the forest around me. It was a quiet and alone place.

I would sit there for hours and let my imagination run wild. One of my favorite mind travels was that I would be kidnapped by some bungling kidnappers who would discover that I had an amazing talent to sing. They devised a plan to get rich and famous by booking me into concert halls all over the world. I could have escaped anytime I wanted because they were not smart enough to keep me captive but I enjoyed traveling and singing, so I let them keep me. I became more famous than they were and I went home and bought my family a huge house to live in. We had a spotlessly clean garage attached to the house for my mother to park her brand new sports car in. The refrigerator and cupboards had all the food we could ever want. Eventually I hired my one time kidnappers to be my agents. They were not smart but they were great at booking concerts and they fell in love with me and wanted to adopt me. I told them that I would always be their friend but I had a family already. They got very rich and adopted a whole choir of orphans and booked them to sing in concert halls all over the world. Of course, we all lived happily ever after.

 I don’t have a clever way to wrap up this rambling of mine. It’s just where my mind went this morning. Any way, thanks for letting me share my memory with you. Happy Saturday!

Finding the humor

Tuesday and Wednesday were not my favorite days. I had to repeat that awful procedure on Weds. which means that Tues. was spent close to the comforts of home… ;p yuck. All that going left me feeling like a dish rag. I just have to kvetch a little. My appointment was at 1:45 on Weds. afternoon. Inhuman treatment. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight on Tuesday… which, by the way, was spent on a liquid diet. Most of my liquid diet consisted of lime flavored Gatorade mixed with horrible poison that turns your insides out. Here I was thinking that lime jello would be a nice touch to a liquid diet. Well, the green jello is still in the fridge because I could not even look at it after 64 oz. of the vile concoction I had to ingest. I think I have already said YUCK. (Bear with me, I am almost done whining.) As hard as I tried to stay busy on Weds. morning, the time just would not pass quick enough. No coffee, no breakfast, no lunch, no water. As Fawn used to say, “No nuffin.” OK, I’m done.

The ride to the GI clinic was fine. In fact, on our way there, the nurse called and asked if we could come early. I was 10 mins. away and my appointment was in 20 mins. Kind of a moot point. But, I said I was done complaining, and I am.

The procedure is simple because the nurse injects a glorious elixir into my veins that sends me to dream wonderful dreams which I do not remember. At some point, my husband is re-introduced to me and I like him - a lot. I am happy to see him. Then, the doctor is re-introduced to me and I like him. I am happy to see him too, or so I am told. He tells me and Ed how everything went. (enter Charlie Brown’s teachers voice here- wah wa wah waa.)  A lovely flight home on gossamer wings interrupted by Ed’s voice. “What is that on the front porch?” I recognize my house and I like it. A vase of beautiful white tulips with purple (my favorite color in the world) accent flowers. They come in the house and onto my kitchen table. I like them - a lot. I am happy.

My bed has freshly washed sheets on it. My room smells like lavender. My dogs come into the room to make sure I am alright. When I awake, Ed will make me scrambled eggs. I love my home.

Today, I understand that 2 more small polyps have been removed and the doc dug deeper around the first one he removed and sent tissue to the lab for more tests. Ed says that the doc did not seem alarmed and he expects the other 2 are no more than polyps. I am trying to rest although I am just not good at staying still for long. After pulling weeds in my back yard for 45 mins. I am reminded that I have had things removed and cauterized from my intestine. “For the love of Pete, go in the house and sit down, Coni.” That is when I decided to share my experience with you. You lucky people!

I called my daughter, my girlfriend and my church to update them. It is such a privelege to have prayer warriors in my life. My faith and confidence are in my God. He knows the number of hairs I have on my head. He cares for everything about me. He has the plan for my life. I am completely surrendered to Him and I trust Him. He is faithful.

The lovely bouquet is from my co-workers, Francis & Jeri. I thought you deserved to share in their beauty. Thanks for listening to me carry on.

What the hail?

This is my backyard. I live in North Carolina for Pete’s sake! Along with thunder that rattled the windows and lightening to rival anything the paparazzi could offer, we experienced some pea size hail. The rain and hail were coming so hard that our yard was swamped. I could barely make out the hail stones as they were coming down. When they hit the lawn, they bounced up and the scene resembled pop corn being cooked on our grass.

It turns out that our little black mystery dog is not fond of thunder. She became my Siamese twin for about an hour. Awww. My grand Dame, our white dog, could not have cared any less about all the noise and excitement. She is cool as a cucumber. Or, it could be that she is just too darn old to be excited by much.

Well, at least I was pretty impressed.

Singing again

My lovely co-workers allowed me to leave early on Friday so I could get to the conference on time. You see, several weeks ago, I was asked to sing one song at each of the 3 sessions. I was delighted. I asked God what He would have me sing and I was quite sure that He did not want me to fall back on any of the songs I already knew. I went shopping for new songs and found 3 that spoke to my heart. I learned them in time to make them my own.

All the ministry participants were asked to be at the church by 5:45 PM for sound checks.

I had some work to do in the trailer with the make up department head and the head of my department before I left. They asked me to sing a little of the song that I would be doing that night. I got to sing about half of Heal the Wound  for them. My dept. head started to cry.

It is random happenings like that which confirm for me that I am in the right place for such a time as this. I do not have to know all the whys and wherefores. God touched some one right before my eyes. And He uses ordinary people who are simply willing to show up.

 

Let’s laugh together

I am sitting at home today, trying to rest. I woke up late and felt like I had been hit by a truck, so I did not go to church. My rear end has been dragging all day.

While checking my email, I got just what I needed! A good, clean joke. Good enough to share! Have you laughed today? Hope this tickles you.

 
An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake. He finds
his way to a barstool and orders some coffee. After sitting there for a
while, he yells to the waiter, ‘Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?’

The bar immediately falls absolutely silent. In a very deep, husky voice,
the woman next to him says,
‘Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it is only fair, given that you
are blind, that you should know five things:
1. The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.
2. The bouncer is a blonde girl.
3. I’m a 6-foot tall, 175-pound blonde woman with a black belt in karate.
4. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weightlifter.
5. The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler.

‘Now, think about it seriously, Mister. Do you still wanna tell that joke?’

The blind cowboy thinks for a second, shakes his head, and mutters,
‘No…not if I’m gonna have to explain it five times.’

To all my blonde friends: you know I love you.

How did God get into this?

I get to go to work tomorrow on an HBO series. It is a bawdy British comedy on the same lines of Benny Hill or Monty Python. Lots of character changes and prosthetic make up.

This is how this crazy business works…

I never sent in a resume to any of the projects shooting here in town. Frankly, none of them were of any interest to me and I was enjoying my time at home.

My friend Sally works as a set medic and she was hired on the HBO thing. She was talking to someone on set and happened to mention that she and I had gone out for Sushi last week. The hair stylist heard my name mentioned. Turns out that she was the same lady who was the Department Head on Ya-ya sisterhood. I ran the background for her on that movie. We got along great and really liked each other. For a while after she went back to LA. we stayed in touch via e-mail. Life goes on.  That was in 2000 and we lost touch over the years.

Since arriving in Wilmington a few days ago, she was trying to find my last name and my phone number, to no avail. Until… tadaaa… my friend Sally just happened to be within earshot of my long lost friend, Jeri. Sally passed Jeri my phone number. Now, not only do I get to work with a respected hair stylist in my industry but I get to rekindle a past friendship. Cool beans. I am also meeting some other talented hair and make up artists on this show. I love meeting new people and learning new stuff.

God is good. I believe He had everything to do with orchestrating this whole thing. I am kind of excited to see what else happens.

Yesterday I got to sing Power in the Blood in the make up tent. The Assistant Director came in to prep the back ground artists. He told them they would be required to sing this old hymn in the church scene they were getting ready to do. He thought the song was called Precious Blood of the Lamb. My ears perked up. He had a recording of a short piece of the song. He played it for them and then asked if anyone knew the words just before that stanza. No one said a word. He was starting to sweat a little bit and his patience grew a little thin with the silence. “OH, come on. Someone?”, he begged.

Well, I took that as my cue and just started singing,                              “There is power, power, - wonder working power - in the blood of the Lamb.   There is power, power, - wonder working power - in the precious blood of the Lamb”.                                                                                          

 Indeed, that was the song he was looking for. He asked me to sing it two more times so the ones who didn’t know it could pick it up. I think God is hilarious some times. Honestly, this was a place I would have least expected to be able to make such a declaration right out loud. Then to be asked to do again, twice. Hilarious!