Two Moments

I just spent the better part of the past two weeks away from home. My first trip was to Mexico City and the second was to Disney World. The bipolar swing was exhausting, I'm not going to lie. I will write more about each trip later, but I wanted to make sure I wrote this now. There were two things that stand out the most:

A Religious Experience
For the first memorable time in my life, I felt the presence of God. I have no other words to describe it. Tears sprung into my eyes; the hair on the back of my neck stood up; I had goosebumps all over; I felt like all time had been suspended. And yet none of these words describe that feeling I felt. I walked onto the grounds of the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe - The Villa - and it was a faith-affirming moment. I prayed all of the prayers of my Catholic school childhood. The rush of emotion was almost too much to bear. 

Intertwined
Long lines, roller coasters, Mickey ears, camping in a rig nicer than any of my past apartments...not your typical Thanksgiving for me. There were many fantastic moments; many memories were made on this trip. The one that struck me for it's simplistic and random nature was this: 8 of us standing in line for two hours; children growing bored but keeping each other entertained. The line is moving oh-so-slowly and yet the time is passing quickly. Then my sister starts to braid my hair. A simple gesture; one that, in our childhood, didn't happen often because more than likely we were too busy fighting. I kept the braid in my hair for the rest of the day.

The Second Best

When changes occur in your life - no matter how big or small - conversations that you've had and shed countless tears over before happen all over again. I try to put on a brave face and spare the other person's feelings. No one should feel bad for making conversation. And there are sometimes that I will talk about it; explain the shots, the dangerous drugs, the endless appointments, the crushing disappointment, the utter despair, the bitter resignation and the blinding sadness that comes in waves at the most unfortunate times. But not always. Sometimes I pretend to be grateful to be traveling down a road that I would advise most people to be thrilled about; in fact that is what my job calls for most of the time. So I try to act "as if"...as if this is truly all I ever wanted.

Hope is gone, she confessed
that when you lay your dream to rest
you can get what's second best
but it's hard to get enough

And yet that's just not how I feel most days. There is a dark hole that goes largely ignored when I'm having one of the "good days". I can laugh and joke and be wildly productive, sometimes even a joy to be around. Those are the days that I succeed in ignoring what has become a defining part of my adulthood; the days that I act like this is the life I always wanted, when I can overcome the tears and grief and move forward; one foot in front of the other. I'm not saying that this life is bad - because for some people it's not; it's just not what I would have chosen for myself. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She wants to run away
but there's nowhere that she can go
Nowhere the pain won't come again

There are some limits that I've found have accompanied the soul-crushing despair of being child-less; limits that hurt me personally for their basis in jealousy and bitterness that was never a part of me before. My heart aches when opening invites to baby showers; so I buy incredibly thoughtful gifts that will be most likely be delivered by a stranger so that I can count my tears in peace. When offered the possibility of holding a baby I will likely decline, since the last time I did so erupted in tears so profuse that it surprised even me. But I do find some comfort when I see the utter joy in my friends' eyes when they look at their children or when their children look at them. I remember fondly the experiences I was afforded by my sister that lovingly included me in her birth experiences. She taught me everything I know about being a parent - that I'll never use. And each time I bring them to mind the pain always follows. I don't want to lose those memories - I hold onto those feelings with all that I have in me. And I go through life looking for the "second best". I know I will likely be disappointed; I know that it won't be "enough". But there are some days that I let my pain loose like some enraged animal:

I am sad. 

I cry. 

I feel guilty for not being able to give my husband a child.

I cry.

I am angry. 

I cry. 

I feel sorry for myself. 

I cry some more. 

I reset my counter of "Days without a Breakdown" and then I move on.

I Do All My Own Stunts

I ran the race two weeks post fall and noticed that my right arm was a little sore, but I just assumed it was from carrying it incorrectly during the race.  So I decided to take off my requisite 4 weeks from any and all workouts which just happened to coincide with the holidays. Right before Christmas my shoulder started bothering me and my doctor suggested a cortisone shot to see if it worked; so I got the shot and hubby and I packed up the dogs and drove to the midwest for the holidays.

I developed a very limited range of motion in that shoulder and lost almost all strength. I was referred to a Physical Therapist that was like an angel. He spent two days a week for nearly 6 months rehabbing that shoulder and getting it to where I could actually put my hair in a pony tail without having to prop that arm up on the wall first.

When I stopped showing signs of improvement I was referred to a surgeon. Dr. Love (no, not his real name....but DAYUM it should be) was an intimidating 6'9" with hands that could have palmed the moon. Dark hair, skin and blue eyes....if he had told me he wanted to cut my arm off I might have entertained the thought. So handsome was this guy that I agreed to have surgery in 4 weeks to possible repair a torn rotator cuff and repair a bicep tendon tear. It could be nothing, but it might be something he said. Better safe than sorry he said. "You're the doctor" I said.  My husband was sitting in the room watching this imaginary love story play out with a smirk on his face. "Were you waiting for him to pull out the stirrups?"

Surgery went well. The anesthetist (another good looking dude - did I miss a calling in Orthopedics?!) performed a nerve block that made my arm completely dead weight. Dr. Love removed a significant bone spur from my shoulder that was digging into my rotator cuff. He cleaned up a lot of scar tissue and ground down the bone spur. I was sent home with a sling and, a few days later, some bruising that looked like I dated Chris Brown.

Now, just 5 1/2 weeks later, I found myself lying on the garage floor. Hubby was gone for the weekend, power was out and I was trying to start the generator. One of the dogs was sitting on the floor behind me as I turned around to get it started, so I tripped over her and landed on my freshly-repaired shoulder. After about 3-4 hours of laying in bed with an ice pack I called Dr. Love's office and they told me to put it in a sling and wait for my upcoming re-check. May have torn any number of tendons this time or could have broken a collar bone. Best case though is that I am just a dumbass that needs to be more careful.

Say No To Drugs

About 4 weeks ago, I had surgery to repair my shoulder. The original injury happened just two weeks before the Las Vegas Marathon. I had been diagnosed with bronchitis and was given cough syrup. This cough syrup evidently has a bit of a reputation...kind of like that girl you went to high school with that wore black leather pants, see through shirts to reveal (gasp!) her lacey black bra and thick black eyeliner that was overshadowed only by her 2 foot bangs that had been teased high enough to make all of Dallas TX swoon. This stuff was ROUGH.

My bedroom is located in the basement of our house. Ever since graduating from college I've had an aversion to sleeping while the sun is up. So my solution was to move to a dimly lit basement room with blackout shades. Work ethic and sense of responsibility be damned...I WILL sleep during waking hours whenever possible.

One of the purposes of the Syzurp is to dry you out and some of the other purposes were evident in the next couple of hours. Well in the middle of the night I was thirsty and though I never do it any other time, I was sleeping with socks on because I was feverish. I went upstairs, grabbed some water in my Purple Drank haze and headed back downstairs to bed. Once I hit step #2, I started skidding down the stairs like a 4 year old on their first pair of roller skates. In the split second it took me to slip off the first step, I realized that I was INEBRIATED! I was not coughing and my throat felt a little better than most of the recent past; but I also was not balanced and quick enough to reach out and grab the walls or handrail for support. Instead I landed straight on my - at that moment in time - toned and awesome-looking butt; but not before I bounced off the wall on my right ready-for-tank-season shoulder. I bounced down the stairs and ended up at the bottom with the wind knocked out of me.

I struggled to catch my breath and faintly heard a low growl from my bedroom that was 15 feet in front of me. Paulie heard the loud ruckus and emitted a weak warning to not disturb him before most likely taking my still-warm spot in the bed. I tried to get up but quickly realized that I was going nowhere on my own two feet. I tried yelling for hubby who was sleeping peacefully (read: without hearing aids in) on the upstairs floor. Trying to wake him would be nearly impossible. I crawled on my hands and knees to my bed where my phone was charging. I called hubby a couple of times before he woke up and said breathlessly "I fell down the stairs". I heard more socked feet running down the hallway and had I caught my breath yet I would have warned him not to take the stairs in socks. Instead I started giggling.

Hubby came into the room, bleary eyed and hard of hearing asking me if I was ok. A large bruise had already started forming on my butt cheek and running up the side of hip. He saw me giggling and sighed..."do you need ice?".  "No," I said, "just help me lay back down." And other than some soreness and embarrasment I was fine.

Tummy Babies and Life Lessons

Little Angel said: "Why doesn't Cari have a tummy baby?"

Wise young woman replies: "I don't know, sometimes things aren't fair."

Little Angel said: ""I feel like God wants someone who can't take care of their baby to donate it to her. She would be a better mom than even you!".

Wise young woman takes this comment as a compliment. I ask if she would be doing the donating because clearly this Little Angel child was made for me!

Manifest Your Destiny, Maintain Your Integrity

When my self-confidence drain-circling picked up speed about 18 months ago, I did what any out-of-their-mind miserable employee does: I quit my job. In the worst-ever-in-my-lifetime job market. I had zero prospects, but I was desperate. I gave them a lame excuse about wanting to switch careers - which at the time seemed to be my only option.

In true Cari Funk fashion, I picked up running as a way to fill in any perceived hole in my life. I know that running is an innate blessing someone in my heritage bestowed upon me. It's also my comfort zone, my security blanket. So for the better part of 2011 I trained for, and finished, a full marathon. I could have set a loftier goal than "just finishing" but that would be missing the point. What I ended up with was a really cool glow in the dark medal and some much needed perspective. And the confidence started to return slowly, ever so slowly.

I still believe in the company even though I left of my own volition; I still have times when my fierce loyalty to them shocks me. I still care about how they're doing. After the break-up, the owner and I have remained friends. Regardless of the reasons I left, I still want the company to succeed. Leaving a job is never easy, but still caring about the people you leave behind makes doing the right thing the only option.

So when he came to me later to talk about a different-but-related job offer, I was truly scared and reluctant. Could I do it? Did I have the skills, the knowledge, the desire?? Eventually all those questions were directly answered (in the affirmative) mostly by him. But that last one - the desire bit - was tough. He couldn't answer that for me. And after working though some time-consuming apprehension, the two of us got to working in a rhythm that has produced spectacular results.

I think, had I not created my own dark, stumbling path of self-discovery I would be in a very different place today. Instead I'm the proud owner of a mildly successful consulting business called 3 Dog Data.

 My main client - wouldn't you know - is my former employer. I also consider him in the categories of "mentor", "adviser" and most importantly "friend".

Run For the Roses

Yesterday was the Kentucky Derby...the 138th Running of the Roses. Coming from the Midwest, I really should know more about "The Fastest Two Minutes in Sports". I know the following:

• It's a horse race.
• People drink Mint Juleps from ice-frosted silver julep cups - I use one of those cups, sans frost, for my makeup brushes.
• Women wear awesome hats to the race.

And by "awesome" I mean crazy, loud hats that would never be worn anywhere else. I made my own based off a plain, black beach hat from Target to match my summery dress. A large dark red flower was glued in place with white and black feathers and white beads. It was heavy and hot, but so much fun to wear!

For 2012, the Kentucky Derby was run on May 5th, Cinco de Mayo. It also coincided with some friends' house warming party. The menu was festive with various forms of Bourbon- and Tequila-laced dishes. I ingested a lot of alcohol that day, but mostly not in liquid form. We brought two recipes to celebrate: Kentucky Derby pie and Mint Julep Melon. I really have to share!

KENTUCKY DERBY PIE

• ½ cup of flour
• ½ cup of brown sugar
• ½ cup of white sugar
• 2 eggs, beaten
• ½ cup of melted butter
• 2-4   tablespoons Kentucky bourbon
• 1 cup of walnuts
• 1¼ cups of chocolate chips
• Salt (just a pinch)
• 1 tsp of vanilla extract
• 1-9   inch deep-dish pie shell

Mix flour, sugar, eggs and melted butter. Next combine bourbon, walnuts, vanilla and salt. Line the bottom of the pie crust with chocolate chips. Pour the pie filling in the pie crust. Place the pie in the oven, and let it bake for 35-40 minutes. Allow the pie to cool a bit, but serve it while still warm. Top the pie with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream.

 

Hubby loved the pie - so much so that I'm making another today just for him. Now I think the "real" recipe for this pie is a guarded secret. If this isn't close to the real thing, it's good anyway and I should come up with a different name for it.

MINT JULEP MELON

• 2 cups sugar
• 1/2 cup packed fresh mint leaves and tender stems, plus whole sprigs for garnish
• 1/2 cup bourbon
• 2 cantaloupes peeled, seeded and cut into 1-inch pieces (I used a melon baller)
• Juice of 1 lemon

In a large glass measuring cup, mix 1 cup water and the sugar. Heat in the microwave, stirring frequently, until the sugar has dissolved.  Stir in 1/2 cup mint leaves and the bourbon into the simple syrup; cover and let steep for 1 hour.
Place the cantaloupes in a serving bowl. Strain the syrup over the melon; stir in the lemon juice to taste. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour. Top with mint sprigs.

The melon was refreshing and very minty. The bourbon was not strong at all, but definitely not a child-friendly dish.

So here's to donning crazy hats and cooking with booze....Happy spring!!!

South of Normal

Some of you have it.  That thing that keeps you south of normal. You focus everything you have on it; you become passionate about it. It consumes you. You have a hard time identifying yourself apart from it.

Until.

Until the one day when you are separated from it. You begin to see yourself apart from it. You begin to redefine your life without it being in the description.

And little by little, I come closer to normal.  I look forward to the next thing that pulls me south of normal.

Spicy Peanut Chicken

One of my very favorite, simple dinners to make. You can adjust the spiciness by adding more or less cayenne pepper.
1/4 cup chicken broth
1 TB cornstarch
1 TB sugar
2 TB soy sauce
1 TB white vinegar
1/4 TB cayenne pepper
1 TB vegetable oil
1 lb chicken; boneless, skinless cut into 3/4" pieces (breast or thighs)
1 garlic clove; finely chopped
1 tsp finely grated ginger root
1 medium red bell pepper, cut into 3/4" pieces
1/3 cup dry roasted peanuts
2 TB green onions, sliced
2 cups cooked rice

Mix broth, cornstarch, sugar, soy, vinegar and cayenne pepper. Set aside.

Heat wok (or 12" skillet) over high heat. Add oil, rotate wok to coat sides.

Add chicken, garlic and ginger root; stir fry for about 3 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink.  Add bell pepper and stir fry for 1 minute.

Add broth mixture. Cook and stir until sauce is thickened. Stir in peanuts. Sprinkle with onions and serve over rice.