New Year tomorrow! I am taking down the tree, burning it, and probably writing something on here later. Football is on all day, so that is good. Happy New Year to everybody.

I'm up too early.

Thinking about so many things. Do I make some people better? I've been told that by some unlikely characters. Do I make some worse? Maybe. I am certainly awesome in the presence of some. And I am not wonderful with others. I want to take credit for the good, like that's the real me. But the bad stuff, it must be the other person, right? I think we are all of it. A sum of ourselves and the people we stand in front of. Such a complicated connection. How do we only project the good?

There are some people that make it difficult. I will not pretend that some are just jerks. It's hard to maintain inner beauty in the presence of dickery. (just made up that word, along the lines of jackassery and douchbaggery.) At least for this Louque, I am ill equipped at times, or well equipped. It depends on how you look at it. Selflessness has almost become innate with me, and thank you, God. But, there is a moment when I will pick up proverbial rocks and throw them at your metaphoric head. I will with my words do a friggin donut in your symbolic yard. I get off the cross all the time, tell you what I really think, and then get back on like a good little martyr. This is not right, but I am not sorry. Maybe I will evolve, but for now, this is it.

I want to busy myself with loving my sweet children. I want to tire myself with giving pedicures, cooking good food, and dancing. I want to use my superpowers for the good. Do the same.

Hmmmm....

“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, “it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”

“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master that’s all.”
Alice was too much puzzled to say anything, so after a minute Humpty Dumpty began again. “They’ve a temper, some of them—particularly verbs, they’re the proudest—adjectives you can do anything with, but not verbs—however, I can manage the whole lot! Impenetrability! That’s what I say!”

Never too late

In order to connect with another human, we have to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable, we have to be willing to accept another person for who they are. Or how can they be vulnerable? How can someone trust me if I can't accept all of who they are? I am hellbent on learning how to love and trust and accept and to be a person worthy of connection.

How was your weekend?

Local football player makes play of the year

Local football player makes play of the year

Maxpreps Play of the Year!!!

Happy Day before Christmas Eve.

I know people have as long as I can remember tried to get Christmas "back to what it's supposed to be." Honestly, it has always been about the presents and the food. And if you are a kid, Santa. And I do not think God cares one bit. It's a man made holiday, like all of them, and he was actually born in July or something. It's ok, everybody. Relax. Happy Holidays for goodness sake. Just because Constantine made it official in 400AD, we don't have to make it so serious. I am fine with the Grinch, and Rudolph. I am happy with my memories of Mama Louque coming over at 5am to put the turkey in our oven because hers was full. I love the consumerism and the commercialism. It's nice to have a season set aside that we buy for each other. What is so wrong with that? I like the lights, the trees, the music. If you think about it, we love so much about Christmas that is not directly about Jesus. But I also love Luke chapter 2. My absolute favorite. Hark and Lo and Behold. Angels talking to shepherds under the stars, a woman in labor in a barn, and the King of the Universe sticking it to the man by not doing it our way. That is what Christmas is to me. God's telling us that what we think and do and require is not what He thinks and does and requires. He always goes against religion and our "wisdom."

So I hope this Christmas you have a nice time. I hope you had some money to buy some gifts, because if you didn't, you will feel shitty. It's ok. It's just a holiday. Next year will be better for you. I hope you have love in your life and that you are healthy. I hope your children are whole. God bless you. I sincerely mean that with all my heart.

gone, going

Look at all those fancy clothes,
But these could keep us warm just like those.
And what about your soul? Is it cold?
Is it straight from the mold, and ready to be sold?

And cars and phones and diamond rings,
Bling, bling, because those are only removable things.
And what about your mind? Does it shine?
Are there things that concern you, more than your time?

Gone, going.
Gone, everything.
Gone, give a damn.
Gone, be the birds, when they don't wanna sing.
Gone, people, all awkward with their things,
Gone.

Look at you, out to make a deal.
You try to be appealing, but you lose your appeal.
And what about those shoes you're in today?
They'll do no good, on the bridges you burnt along the way.

And you're willing to sell, anything?
Gone, with your head.
Leave your footprints,
And we'll shame them with our words.
Gone, people, all careless and consumed, gone

Gone, going,
Gone, everything.
Gone, give a damn.
Gone, be the birds, if they don't wanna sing.
Gone, people, all awkward with their things, Gone.

Merry Christmas, everybody. I hope you are reminded that there is no child brought into the world that is not worth it. No matter how inconvenient. There is always hope, and when you have no hope, keep flossing. The bad times will pass, and you want your teeth. I have notified my children that if I stop flossing, intervene. I have lost my mind.

I hope next year is better than last year. I hope I can fix all my well meaning mistakes. I hope I can have some respect for myself and not settle for less than nothing. I hope my kids will be healthy and happy and see that in me. I hope that I will believe my senses and my mind and not be afraid to act on them. I hope I find out that I am worth it, too.

I hope next year, in 2012, people that don't see me miss me . Like I make a difference. I hope I have made an impact on them enough to miss. I hope people like talking to me, as though I had something to say. I hope I can say some good things, think some good thoughts, and be pleasant to know. I hope that I can be a better person. We'll see.

Above all I hope that I represent the people that trust me well. People like Johnny Mason, my children, Jesus, and women in general. Ok, Jesus probably doesn't trust me. He knows better, but He has entrusted me with so much. I will keep trying and saying I am sorry.

I hope. That's not bad for me.

Manifesto Part II

Who am I?

 Not sure, but I am Vance and Kay's daughter. That means I will kiss your ass. To a point. And then not so much.  Karen Marie Louque. I will give everything, all of me, until it goes beyond pain. I will disappear. I mean f&#king disappear. I can keep my mouth shut for a time, but when I open it, I know how to say what's in my head. I understand fully. I would not say I have a command of the language, but I know my mind. I rarely engage unless I know from beginning to end what the hell I am talking about. I take no pleasure in hurting a person. I will avoid that. In fact, I will not do it. It's not intelligent. But if you need to know what I see, I can clearly tell you. It might hurt. I am precise with words whether it is to tell how much I love or how small you are. I can elaborate. I like telling how much I love you.

I love people. I LOVE people. I love music, and dancing, and silly people. I have no depth to silliness. People that know me now or grew up with me know this. We will laugh. We have to. It is the only way to be alive.

I love God. Not your God, because I do not know Him. I barely know mine. I do firmly believe that regardless of what I think and what you think, God is who He is, and it's probably not that much of what we think. A lot of people think they know me. It doesn't change me. I am what I am. But God... I am trying, but all I can get is this love thing. I cannot stop with the loving the other person, the giving it all, the belief that I will make it because I was good to someone else. I do not hold grudges. Move on. I don't recommend burning a bridge. You never know, but if you have to burn one, make sure there is nothing worth anything on the other side. Like a person or your favorite jeans or something.

I need things. I hate that. But it's true. I perhaps will go through life and never have those things. Oh well. Pursuing them is better than settling for not trying to get them. Might as well die.

 I see things. How they will be. I can predict the future sometimes by trends and the past and lessons from others. What good is all this shit if we can't learn from it? I know when people lie. I don't call them on it, because it doesn't always matter, and I don't want them to get better at it. (no more secrets!) I see way too much. And it is usually right. It always is, but I am being modest about it. The eyes are truly the window to the soul, and I have never seen a bad pair or a good pair that was not reflecting the truth. Never.

I wonder what Heaven will be like. Some days are close to it now.

One more thing. I would rather have perception, a quick wit, and intuition than be able to kick box. It would be fun to win a fight, but I would rather see. The Truth. I see it, but I don't know what to do with it all the time. But I will.

Now just as important, who are you???

Today is my Mom's birthday. She is 70. Wow. I remember sitting in her chair and watching Days of Our Lives while Kay Lynn and Vance were at school. I could turn into this awesome being called Angel Nurse and rub her temples. I actually was rubbing out headaches when I was 5. Angel Nurse was quite a girl. She had it together.

Nine years ago, my Daddy sent Mama some roses to Redemptorist for her birthday. He had a doctor's appointment and called me after. He was worried about his heart and wanted to remind me about Mama's birthday. I remember thinking that he was going to freak himself out about his heart. The next call I got was from him telling me he was going to the fire station because of his chest pains. I thought, yep, he is freaking out. That was the last time I talked to him. The next call I got was from Vance telling me that they were on the way to the hospital and they had shocked him. I knew then. My kids were with me, Scott and Paula came over, and Brad came home from work. I hate death. I got the call soon after and talked to Dr. Ren. Daddy was gone. We were remodeling our house at the time. We left for Baton Rouge and Scott, Travis, Piggy and I don't know who else finished our house. They were awesome. When I came home, our house was done, and Travis wore his loop earrings for me that one time. You would have to know Travis. In the next few months I had kidney surgery and then a tumor removed. I was grieving the death of my father, homeschooling my 5 children, and recovering from pain, and unhappily married. Many people stepped in and saved my life. Melanie Grogan. I will always thank God for her. There are some people that think I am weak or light. They do not know. I have learned that I like goodness. Peace and not sadness. People love me. That is what that horrible time taught me. I am thankful to all of them.

I am rambling a little. I know.


Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

I miss Daddy.

I love Friday. It's not because of my job. I actually love my job. It's a place where everything is the same. There are things to do, rules, the people....it is the safe place in my life. Like the ball field. I like the people there and, lo and behold, they seem to like me, too. Or they get paid to be polite. I'll take it.

The 13th is my mama's birthday and the day my daddy died. It's always harder on the days leading up to that time. The actual day is fine. I will write more about that later.

Have a nice day. I will.

Not even close, Maslow.

I, like so many people I have known, tend to be too quick to become less or nothing at all in order to win approval or love or whatever we think we need. Here are a bunch of things that I like. I have to look really deep on this one...

I like yellow, fall, loud music. I love lots of people and I love to be alone. I like being noticed and remembered. Being thought of, laughed at, spoken to. I like watching To Kill a Mockingbird and It's a Wonderful Life and Lord of the Rings. I like naps. I like thinking that I am worth time. I like when people are nice to me.

Politically Incorrect, I think

Regardless of how evolved we think we are, we will always live in a Lord of the Flies society. Mankind cannot help himself. Metaphorically, if the Union is in control, they are abusive. If Corporate is in control, they are. People live in cycles of struggle for control, and when we get it, we have no ability to wield it. Some do for a short time, but eventually, somebody wants that fat kid's glasses. To build fires. For the greater good.

I hate politics. It is nothing more than propaganda to me. Who can say the thing that makes me think my life will improve if I vote for them. I wish they would just balance the budget, help the elderly and needy, and protect us from Hitler. I know it is infinitely more complicated, but I choose not to play. I have laundry to do. I will vote. But I will not waste my time with speeches and promises and photo ops. Our lives are just a vapor and then we are gone and forgotten. Maybe this time in history will get a paragraph in a book 1000 years from now. I have no idea. I just want to eat, love, and learn what God wants me to learn today. I do respect leaders. I live with some. I just want us to use our super powers for the good.

One of the things I love about my children is their love for each other. I remember when Andrew was being bullied when he was 16. It was stressful. I can remember Evan, 14, telling him that he would gladly take an ass beating for him. And it would have been just that. That's it. I have always told my boys that I don't approve of fighting unless you are defending a weaker person or yourself. But if you ever see your brother in a fight, you had better come home worse than him. To this day, any of my sons would fight for each other, the girls, Rylee. They are not bad asses. They are not fighters, but they are in. I remember Rylee's face when he heard someone would have to fight Bradley, Andrew, and Evan to get to him. He was so surprised and had the biggest smile. It is nice to be part of something, to have people in your corner that are willing to risk something. There are reasons to get knocked down.  These are the good things. Just sayin.

From a blog that I love:


“silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation."

If nothing else, my blog is 3 things: a not very subtle cry for help, a dabble into narcissism and a dash of masochism, and a history of me for my children and anyone else that loves me enough to know me. Being heard is life to me. Dramatic and true. That said, I struggle with not having anything relevant to say. Nothing important or deep or funny. Today is just normal.

When I go for long drives through Canada, like I did this weekend, I think about all the houses of people. People like me. I imagine or know that every house has a Karen, a Hot Fudge Sundae, a bunch of kids. There are people living their lives like me, thinking, crying, and laughing. About the same shit. I think it is so big and overwhelming, and it makes me realize that I am not even close to being the center. There are people trying to figure out why they are here and what to do next. I'm thinking about massaging people next. I need to help people in some way. I like giving so that people will like me. I'm trying to be funny, but it's probably true. Regardless, it's good to be the recipient of all that, right?

I had a happy Thanksgiving. I was at Niagra Falls looking at the power of God. That's how I see it. I am small in a huge place.

Thanks

It's that time again to list the reasons for being thankful. The things I have or see or experience that make me say Thank You to God. Here goes:

I am thankful for my kids. They love me. I know they are supposed to, but they even like me. They notice what I do and think it is good. They call me Karen.

...for my kidneys. I will never take them for granted again after 2003.

...for the people I work for and with. It's my sanctuary along the lines of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I am safe there. Wow.

...for my upbringing. I have seen it all. Or at least enough.

...for my mind. It battles my heart at times, but it will win.

...for hope. I know it's for chumps. And it will damn near kill me, but I embrace it. Sigh.

...for my husband and friend and lover. He has ruined everyone else.

...for the sunsets, wine, and laughter. For reuniting with friends and finding out I am ok.

...for chocolate.

There is more, but I need to go to the bbq. Love to all.



...

Tonight is the Big Man on Campus "show" at school. It's basically a beauty pageant for guys, which is hilarious. Girls would do this for the ego strokes, but guys do it for cash ($200) and the chance to shake it in front of an audience. I am so glad for the exhibitionism of my son and his friends. It cracks me up and makes me think that Mardi Gras is in all of us. There are some very cool people who would criticize them, but they are kings to me. I love a front man. Every girl does.  So kiss it, haters. We live once, and we should laugh. It's Friday, so if you get the chance to howl at the moon, do it. You may not see the moon tomorrow.

22

Evan is in a program at school that will train and certify him to be a Certified Nursing Assistant upon graduation. I am thrilled at the fact that he will have job skills and will be able to earn some money through college. He is learning things like blood pressure, anatomy, and the 22 steps in washing a vagina. I am impressed. Even on my birthday, I don't think I've ever gone beyond maybe 5 steps, and that would include fragrance and glitter. But there are, in fact, 22 steps. I think it drops way down for cleaning a man. Probably 2 steps. Turn on hose, spray. Regardless, I am beaming.

I am so happy that my kids are going to be ok. Robin and I were both realizing last night over some wine that we haven't done too much permanent damage. A little perhaps, but you need to be a little complicated, right? We have purposefully and deliberately raised our people. My kids will only one day know the calculated efforts and ideas that I implemented. Be kind to people, especially the weak ones. Find somebody to be nice to, don't lie, don't let other people tell you what to believe about God. He is capable of letting you know Himself. Dance often. Learn how to argue at home where it's safe. The world is a bitch. Don't be stupid. Laugh at yourself. LSU is the only team really. I tried. I read books and pondered. I suck at some things, but I am a good mom. I am a smart ass and I say no, but they all know there is no limit to my love and willingness to support and enjoy them.

This is a great day. I found that joy I was looking for. ;)

Joy

I wonder if all we are is what other people think we are. There are people that think I am selfless. Or funny. I talk too much. And there are some that think I am completely selfish and rude. Can they both be true? How do you ever really know what you are? I personally would like to know, because I am constantly trying to get better. To evolve into a benevolent being. I try so hard. Am I what God says I am, and what is that? I look in the mirror and see an aging little girl. I have no real power. I don't look very good on paper. But I see things. I see people. I understand why people do what they do and say what they say. Why they withhold love. We are all struggling for power and control. It keeps us safe. I am too quick to give my power away. I trust, and it kills me every time.

I am not selfish. The complete opposite, in fact. To a fault. It's debilitating.

Whatever ingredients were mixed together to make this Karen Thing (I wish it were a dessert), I can't change them. Evidently, I am what I am. And so are you. I can't seem to find my joy at the moment. I am searching. Desperately. It's not in any of the places I keep looking. It's probably in the couch cushions or in my purse somewhere.

Today is Isabelle's birthday. I am so proud of her.

I got to visit with my friend Robin last night, aka my bird. It is so wonderful and comforting to say things that I am only trying to grasp, and she gets it. It is possible to be known and understood, and that is one of the best things in life to me. I truly enjoy our time.

Going to work. I love my job. I am not sure why I get such a kick out of it. I think it is the combination of moving around, interacting with so many people, and having a tiny bit of responsiblity. So much fun. Have a nice day.

An Otter on Our Lake

On our dock.

Who's the best?

It's just a game. I know that. But I admire the dedication so much. Maximus, I have been entertained.

Evan's last football game of his childhood is tomorrow night. He has been playing since he was 8. I can honestly say I have loved every minute of it. Except the concussion. That was freaky.

There is something honorable in giving yourself wholly to something. Sacrificing your sleep, strength, so much time, and your pride to be part of a cause. I have watched Evan and so many other boys suffer in August. I mean bear crawls in wet grass in Florida as the temperature rises at around 11 AM. I have never seen them give up. It is the most amazing life lesson I have ever watched. My son knows how to get harshly reprimanded and respectfully carry on. He got to take snaps from his brother Andrew and Tyler Jolley, throw to Ryan Latner, defend with Coach Wayne Gieger, and so cool, team up with his best friend Chase Julius the whole way. 1 to 7. I called it early on. Eat it, haters.

I have cried a few times already. There have been some last times for this and that. But tomorrow is the end of something. I love it all. Thank you Kim, Miss Toni, Linda, and so many others for the hilarious, wonderful, unforgettable times. It is a huge part of my life that I would not change.

 And Jenny Jenn. We knew. I love you with all my heart, and more than that, you know I love your boy with all my heart. Thank you for the pictures, the fun, and the spirit. I am better for all of it. There is no one else hanging on every snap with me like you. We are always expecting, hoping, willing the big one. The long pass, the pressure, tuck it and run, the joy in their countenances. Best thing in the world. The sideline prayer, overtime under the lights, practices by headlights.  I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I don't need Heaven. I have lived it. My heart is so full.

Thank you, son. You have been a joy through the whole thing. Just thank you.

I am reading a book on writing memoirs. I know. I would rather read about writing one than writing one. But this guy is brilliant. I am inspired, if nothing else, to open my eyes. I am a flickering flame, avoiding drafts as best as I can. Last night I said to a friend that 3 things were for chumps: Brakes, pap smears, and hope. Maybe not. I just hate needing any of them. It's always a disappointment or some unpleasantry. Grinding pads, pushing down and feeling a litlle bit of pressure, or allowing yourself to think it will all be wonderful.

Robby Latner . I think of him every time I hear Little Miss Can't Be Wrong.  His mother is the Spaniard. (see my bar fight team) I had a tiny part in his starting collge, and he is still there! Against the odds, no doubt. He hates English and only has charmed his way through a lot of classes. But this would charm any teacher. From the heart and facebook. Poetry, and I love it:

People don't play sports because its fun. Ask any athlete, most of them hate it, but they couldn't imagine their life with out it. Its part of them, the love/hate relationship. Its what they live for. They live for the practices, parties, cheers, long bus rides, invitationals, countless pairs of different types of shoes, water, Gatorade, & coaches you hate but appreciate. They live for the way it ...feels when they beat the other team, and knowing those two extra sprints they ran in practice were worth it. They live for the way they become a family with their team, they live for the countless hours of work they put in order to compete at their very best. They live for the competition, they live for the teammates, the practices, the memories, the pain, its who they are. It's who we are.

One day, I will write everything. I won't censor myself, or protect everybody from my opinions. Ha! Life is so strange, and I will somehow make it right.

Tonight will be fun. Football sudden death. Geaux Evan and Keystone!

I am always wondering what God thinks about all this. It's so quiet on His end. Like talking to a gravestone. I've done that so many times, but there is no reciprocation. Sitting on the grass talking to the "in Loving Memory"...silence. I talked for so long the other night on the way to Miami. It was raining, midnight, and I had no phone. So I talked and cried and cried and talked. It was good, if not a little weird. But I still believe He hears me. I am not sure about much else. I can tell by the world around me. That's my proof if I need it. I don't, but it's there in front of me.

I know that religion is our attempt to connect and understand God. I know that it's man's way to control himself and the people around him. I know our steeples and music and postures are all attempts. I think it's fine. Well, the reaching out to God is fine. The control thing is just another ugly thing we do. I hope this isn't all there is. I hope there is no hell, and we get to have sex and dance in the afterlife. Why wouldn't I?

I like to sit quietly in front of Him. I am known, and that is everything to me. I don't even know me, so it's a comforting thought to think I am understood, regarded, and loved. I wonder if I created my own God to fill my holes? I will be happy to know the truth one day. About Him and me.

He who seeks beauty will find it. Bill Cunningham

My house of ill repute

When I was 16, I announced officially at the St. Gerard Fair that I would rather not bother with the constraints of a reputation. I explained that if it felt good, made me laugh, or pissed off my Daddy, it was cool. That was quite a weekend. And so went high school. I think there is some of that in Bradley, and we can all agree on Andrew! Honey has too much reason for that nonsense, and Isabelle is going to be interesting. Rylee likes to mix it up, too.  But the other day Evan said something that struck me. Because it is so uniquely him. He is being accused by some people of being somewhat of a player. A user of sorts. Of the laytays.... If Tracy is reading this, I know he is laughing. Anyway, he (Evan) certainly could be. But he commented to me that he chooses not to be in the double digits by now because he "cares about his reputation." What tha? Who is this guy? I just sat back and thought, Evan is better than I am. He could run for office. I am proud of all of my kids. They are so smart and unaffected by the outside. They have brains, and I hope they always choose their own path of thought and not mine or anyone else's. Carry on, Evan Louque, wit yo bad self and your good reputation. It's working for you.

BBQ Emergency

The sea was angry that day, my friend....

So I was at home. Fluffy socks, can of beer left over from THE party. Then I got the call. It appears Walter could not find the phone list. I said I would come in...I almost hit a pedestrian couple in my urgency. My God.  Evidently, the entire population of Keystone Heights had a hankering for some BBQ. And my little Tuesday night crew was trying desperately to accommodate.

 Dear Johnny: Not only are you the best boss I have ever had, but you have somehow transferred that to your employees. We have all bought in to the idea that people need their drinks stat, with a smile and a "be right back".Everyone was overwhelmed, working their BBQ asses off, and smiling. The cook coming out of the kitchen with apps, just needing to know where table 9 is thank you....our three newest cashiers were serving, running food, and getting it done. Tea everywhere, Mount Keystone debris, out of silverware, Thank you for calling Johnny's can you hold just a second, please? Morgan and Little Plymp and Natascha carrying huge trays out, Honey just needing to know how to put a steak dinner in for the drive thru, Cherri knowing what to do before I could say it.... I loved it.

 I know it's just a little BBQ restaurant in Mayberry, but we change the world everyday in my opinion. Thank you for my job. I get a rush!

This is probably the best said description of happiness I have ever read. Makes me cry. The song is beautiful to me.


Happiness, The Fray

Happiness is just outside my window
Would it crash blowing 80-miles an hour?
Or is happiness a little more like knocking
On your door, and you just let it in?

Happiness feels a lot like sorrow
Let it be, you can’t make it come or go
But you are gone- not for good but for now
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard
Happiness was never mine to hold
Careful child, light the fuse and get away
‘Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks

Happiness damn near destroys you
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor
So you tell yourself, that’s enough for now
Happiness has a violent roar

Happiness is like the old man told me
Look for it, but you’ll never find it all
Let it go, live your life and leave it
Then one day, wake up and she’ll be home
Home, home, home

Today is Andrew's 20th birthday. Time and life have flown by. He gets married Saturday to my little Chelsea. I honestly could not have picked a better match. I knew they were perfect when I saw the seriousness of their Rock Star game nights. I love that they have so much fun together. People have certainly tried to dictate their path, but they have stayed true to themselves.

Happy Birthday, Andrew Raphael Harvey. You are my bridge, my middle boy. You can get along with anybody. I hope our God blesses you with happiness and peace and authenticity. You go, son.

I am working as hard as I can to get ready for Andrew and Chelsea's wedding. It's going to be a great weekend. I'll post when I can. Love to all.

My great friend Kelly and I did the track the other day. We talk when we are not running, and as you know, offer up the straights to various causes. She brought up the fact that Toni, her 3 year old, is finally letting her leave the room at bedtime. Kelly did this by telling Toni that she would sit in the chair by the bed, and when Toni was ready, Kelly would leave. So Toni waited, and in a few minutes told Kelly it was OK. She was ready. I love it! She gave Toni a little power, some control of her situation. She trusted her and respected her feelings. Yes, a 3 year old's feelings. This encompasses everything about raising a child, in my opinion. From day 1, I have always felt that a child is another human being. Someone with perspective. If you just look through their eyes...

We all want some power. Some control of our life. I strongly think that when we don't get that early on, we spend a lifetime looking for it, forcing it, never having enough. It's why we marry into the dysfunction we were raised in. The familiarity and the hope of fixing shit.  I'm classic. My need for validation is insatiable. Hence this blog. I just know I can break that cycle by giving my kids a voice. A chance to be considered and valued. Sometimes it seems silly. Leaving a light on, sitting in a chair by the bed, earrings and various piercings, even some arguing. How will they learn how to do this if not at home? The world is a harsh teacher. Hell, I'm still trying to feel pretty and worth something at 46. I can just see me at 80, charming my way through the day so you'll like me.  I just hope my kids don't have the same holes that I do. I can honestly say, I have deliberately and methodically tried to give them the power. I still do.

I know that people have bucket lists. I hate that title. I prefer "what to do before you're too old to care or physically accomplish." Just me. I have no list. But I do know some things that just won't happen. The reverse bucket.

I'm not going to get that English degree. Save the "it's never too late" comments. I realize that we can learn and achieve at all ages. I just can't find it online, and I can't quit work and stop supporting my kids. Like the ex.

My boobs are not going to be big. This one hurts.

I don't think I'll live in NYC.

I won't have that editing job I thought about.

But, honestly, that's about it. Not bad. I still want to make some money, have a hot body, get my kids through college with whole hearts, write a book, and grow old with Tracy Miller. He has no obligation to stay with me, and yet he does. This is promising. I want to fully love this man and know what it means to be irreplaceable.

I want to laugh, be moved by music and words, have epiphanies (are there any left?), drink some cocktails, have an open heart. I want to sit in the mountains with my love and drink French Kisses for 2 weeks. Like Valerie.  I want to see my kids live on their own terms. I want them to have terms. And I want some botox. I think I can do these. Maybe.

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

And just forget the world?

Forget what we're told

Before we get too old
Show me a garden

That's bursting into life

All that I am

All that I ever was

Is here in your perfect eyes

They're all I can see

Missing my Tracy Miller.

Our Mortal Coil

To be, or not to be, that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep,

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub:

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause – there's the respect



Yesterday Steve Jobs died, and although I did no t know this man, I am sobered and sad for his family. He knew that he was going to die, so I guess he had the ultimate heads up. I'm not sure if I would want that, but none of us have that choice. I have quoted my favorite author Anne Lamott's saying that we would all one day lose someone we can't live without. I have done that twice and know that time and chance are not on my side. I can only walk this day out, and know that tragedy doesn't reveal strength but weakness. That is where the strength is. It's in the surrender, the "I can't do this". In the bottom of the pit. That's where God lives. He's everywhere, but I can feel Him down there. Love to the grieving today and everyday. Our turn is coming. And as William said, there's the respect.

Blue Wednesday

Anyone that knows me or reads this blog or stalks me (McDonald's Drive Thru guy, you're creepin me out)...they know of my love and devotion and absolute abandoned passion for my Tracy Miller. The hottest man I have ever met. You also might know he is a gifted construction superintendent and works out of town at the moment. While I am so proud that he is so capable and employed, I am a baby. I did not wait my whole life to land this stallion to send him away every week. I cry a lot. I am afraid he will realize how good life is without me. Scared to death he will not miss me. Freaked out. Alas.

 All that being said, I am still the luckiest woman in the world. I have what people wish for. It's not all perfect, but it is ours. I am married to a man that is willing to leave home and work so we can be happy. It's Wednesday, the hardest day of the week for me for some reason. I am going to bed. I made it in tact.

It's another beautiful morning. I need to pace myself today since it will be long and full of challenges. One thing at a time. I miss Tracy Miller. That's today.

My Bar Fight Team

During my day, I think of very important things. How I will get Evan into college, my aching hip, the environment (just kidding), and my ever growing and changing bar fight team. You may be on it. It's a list of people that I bring together in this head on my shoulders. They are the ones that I feel are best suited to fight a gang of Hell's Angels at a pool hall. I, of course, would never make the cut. I am not a fighter. I can hurt you with my words. Maybe. I am sitting at the bar watching my team kick some biker ass. I have witty people around me. They' re on my team, but in support roles, like those small people who run out on the football field to stretch the charlie cramps (as Isabelle says) out of the players' legs.

I don't put the Baton Rouge people and family on this list because that is a separate team. A special all star team that could take on any other team. The same goes for the Okeechobee people.

Tracy Miller is top of my list. He is there for his toughness, mental and physical, and his strong desire to stick a pitchfork in someone's chest. He also dreams of being terminally ill so he can go on a killing spree. **none of this is true about Tracy. He is a loving, gentle soul. Not a psychopath. He would never censor me either. Love that man.***

Michelle Filing. Waitress, pool shark, bad ass.

Isaac Morford. He is on the list because of his pure love of hurting people. Especially the young and weak. I have known kids say "you're breaking my arm," and he holds it a little longer. For fun.

Linda Latner, the Spaniard. Enough said. She curses like poetry.

Kameron Kicklighter. Do not under estimate my good hearted friend. He 1/3 Rottweiler. He crazy. I have seen him try with all his heart to put a spear through his brother's chest when they were younger. He snaps.

Cameron Yarbrough. My awesome friend who is a thug. Ganstalicious.

Travis Jolley. Big Daddy. My go to.

Jenn is there, but I keep her close to me. I may need to run for help, and she is there to hold off people while I do.

There are more. I'm sure I am forgetting some. Again, my list is a living, ever changing...thing. If you have any recruits you would like me to look at, I'm open. You see what I'm looking for. Honey's friend Naomi will one day be on the team. I've got my eye on her.

Happy Friday.

Running the Straights

Last night I went to the track with one of my favorite goddesses, Kelly. We walked and talked, and then "ran the Straights". The straights are the long straight part of the track. I usually run these in honor of someone. I like to dedicate my pain to my children, my husband, or some worthy cause. It's prayer. Sometimes in my straight for Evan, I sprint (!) from goal to goal simulating a touchdown that he will no doubt make. I have this little idea that God sees my 46 year old ass running for the people I love, and He may be amused or happy. My heart is as right as it can be in that one moment.

My Lyin Eyes

Trying to trust my senses. My eyes, my ears, my all knowing intuition. It is amazing and frightening and miraculous what I will believe. I learn by speaking or writing words. They are truth. This little post is for all the women, young or old, who completely throw their filter away for love or the chance to have it.

There is a common thread that runs through the people in my life that love me. They love goofy, needy, silly karen. They like to talk to me. It is wonderful. Both of my bosses are like this. My great friends from Baton Rouge. And there are friends here in Keystone that blow me away because they are interested in me. My dear bird, Robin, thanked someone recently for taking a few seconds to regard her. I get it. It is the most underrated, intoxicating, best thing in the world. To be heard and enjoyed. I don't take it for granted. It is how you love another human being. It's the primal way to give yourself away. Thank you to all the great people in my life that are sincerely interested in me. You save me. It is that big.

She is love

And when that world slows down, dear.
And when those stars burn out, here.
Oh she'll be there, yes she'll be there,
They call her love, love, love, love, love.


It's what gets me through the day. I wake up for it. I go to sleep hoping she will be here tomorrow. Love. It is the one true treasure that I want. The one possession worth running back in to the burning house for.

I wish I had the ability to love unconditionally. But I find that my love is full of terms, conditions, and fine print. I am so ashamed. When did I start that? I think I am too afraid. For good reasons, but still too much. So I will try harder. Try to let go of all the love killing pride and fear. Jump off the cliff and enjoy the ride down. With open arms and closed eyes.

Thursday

I think the meaning of life keeps changing. There is no one meaning. I think you have to find meaning in your day as you go along. Sometimes it's so obvious. Crying, hungry baby.  Kidney stone. Being "in love". Life just imposes meaning on us. I have trouble (imagine that) when I try to find the meaning and live for that. I want to be with this person, or I want to go here and live there. Not a good plan, because life does not respect or submit to my ideas of meaning. I am finding that I attract hardship. What the hell?

But it's ok. I'm not in a concentration camp or blind or making yak butter in Tibet.  That would suck. I am here. Now. There are the friends along the way that make it all bearable. Like skipping down the yellow brick road with the scarecrow. He is willing to let those flying monkeys stomp on him in order for me to get through that scary forest. Good friend. I hope I have been a friend like that. I think I have at some point.

So what is the meaning today? I will pray for Johnny Mason and our little BBQ restaurant. I will be a firefly today as best as I can to make people want to come back. I will enjoy the people that God gives me. I will overcome my sadness, because some things will never change. Evan said it best. "As long as we have some music and you have me, we will be fine."  You better believe it.

Scary stuff

Today I watched a documentary about horror movies on Netflix with Bradley. It was interesting to see what has scared us historically as a society. Sometimes it was the 'different" looking aliens, sometimes the unknown monster out in the woods, and the worst, the villain among us. Watching scary movies is a way to control our fears. It allows you to safely face demons and serial killers. Right in the safety of your home. With popcorn.

But it got me thinking about what scares me. My fears and the scary things lurking in this brain. I am afraid of the usuals...my kids going through pain or sadness. I am afraid of heights which includes bridges and roofs and anything above the 5th floor. I am afraid of snakes. I am afraid of Tracy Miller finding a better, younger, easier to live with Karen (facing that one on a daily). I am afraid of kids falling through bleachers. And deep water. Oh, and getting kicked in the chest by a horse. And cows.

Man, I am a freak. But on a braver note, I am not afraid to die, I think. I am not afraid to be alone, although I really, really like being with my Miller. Too much. I am not afraid of pain. And I am not afraid to stand up by myself and believe in something whether it is God, breastfeeding, or my hatred for immunizations. I am not afraid to love and hope. I will still give my heart away. As I have said before, courage is not the absence of fear, but what you do in its presence. Yeah, I'll give my heart away. :)

I am not sure which is better. Andrew's filming and editing or the play by Evan. Life is made of these things.

Shadows and Regrets

When we were only kids
And our time couldn't end
And how tall did we stand?
With the world in our hands

I can remember being young. I still hear those thoughts. I remember having no fear about what would come. Caution to the wind and screw the world. Thinking nothing could really stop me. Or break me. How wonderful to believe those things. We were moving to NYC and going to be hookers for just a little while. Just to get on our feet. Or we would stay together forever, have a family and all. Be happy. Or I would keep my promise to a baby in my arms. Like I had power. People had not died or lied or anything.

I have learned that if the universe wants to humble you, it only takes a couple of seconds. The more a person loves, the quicker they drop to their knees. It's the getting up that is the humiliating part. Brushing off the knees, clapping the dirt from your hands. Somebody saw you trip and fall. Bummer.

If you think about it, it's not very smart to trust people. You open up your coat like a flasher, and there is your heart. Why would anyone do that? But the alternative is guarded solitude. Never being known, for better or worse. Actually, I don't think I could know myself without showing someone else. How could you really see it? So, brushing off my knees today, squaring up. I am whatever I am. Powerless and determined not to let that stop me.

Sunday in September

I have been dreading today for quite some time. And I am here. Oh well.

It's feeling a little bit like southern fall here. That means breezy and in the 80's. This is my favorite time of year. Football, daylight savings time will make it dark early ( I love that), fires will make sense, open windows in the house and car, and that brilliant blue that the sky becomes. I have a picture over my bed that my Tracy Miller bought for me that is the view of looking up through fall trees to the sky. Nice.

I have good friends that listen to me, wine, and beautiful sunsets everyday. I love my job. I love my husband. I am learning how to be a good person everyday. I fail a lot. But tomorrow I will try again. I have hope which is not something I always had. I have walked in the dark with no hope, scratching the walls to find my way. I have been through lots of sad times. Death, mistreatment, and confusion. I have had 5 natural childbirths. I freak out sometimes, but honestly, I will be ok. I am such a "feeler". I feel like that guy from the Green Mile that felt the world's pain. He was relieved to go the electric chair. I am not that bad.

So, I will stock up on wine, exercise more, read, write, and grow. Stretch. I need to learn this lesson so God doesn't have to teach it to me again. Must focus.

So many last times...

Me and my Jenny Jenn Jenn. We are about to "run" the concession stand for our final time at a football game. We are sweaty, tired from working all day, and hoping we get a chance to talk. (we didn't). There is no better friend to spend my last year of Evan's highschool career with than my Jenn. Our boys are best friends and Jenn and I are equally fierce fans when it comes to them. My God, we have had so much fun. I only wish Kim and Miss Toni were there with us. The crew. Thank you, Tre Von for this lovely picture.

Life is good most of the time. I have a great job and an even better boss. My kids, including Rylee my stepson, are wonderful. They are funny and just good. I enjoy our nights together. Bedtime is always good because it's when we all get together in some one's room and talk and laugh. I will miss these days. I already don't have them with Bradley and Andrew. That is my fault, and I regret it. But life is what it is. I get to see them when I can, and I love every second when it happens.

I am 46 and don't know very much about myself. Or at least I get confused. I look forward to the day of knowing as I am known. Of being sure of things. Of just not struggling. I know that life is just that, but I am longing for sweetness. I miss my babies. Their smell and trust. The way it feels to simply give your whole life to another human, and it is worth it. I am made for that. I think. I miss having that kind of purpose. It was noble.

I hope that I can keep the good things in me. I think you have to use your gifts or they go away. Like muscles. I don't want my heart to atrophy.

 Getting a little bit of love is a funny thing. If you are not used to it, it wakes up a ferocious thirst. I think I have been parched for so long that I am now just so busy trying to soak up as much as I can. Not pretty. Too much me.

I am tired.

Nothing better.

Constellations


The light was leaving
In the west it was blue
The children's laughter sang
And skipping just like the stones they threw
Their voices echoed across the way
Its getting late


It was just another night
With a sunset
And a moonrise not so far behind
To give us just enough light
To lay down underneath the stars
Listen to papas translations
Of the stories across the sky
We drew our own constellations

Yesterday was difficult. But it's gone. I am pretty sure no permanent damage was done.

Today I'll try to be and think positively. I'll try to ignore people's attempts to get my proverbial goat. As Darrin used to say, just don't have a goat to get. So I am releasing my goat. There she goes, chewing some grass, trotting away. Her little hooves like high heel clicks.  She's such a nice little goat, really. She just likes to eat and sleep and play. But when provoked, she kicks. Please leave her alone. You know who you are.

Freakin Weekend

Friday night was Keystone's (Evan's) first game. We won 34-17 in spite of some dirtiness from the opposing team. Shame on you, #9. It was so much fun, and I could not be more proud of the hard work of our boys. Conditioning matters, and in the 4th, Hawthorne players were sucking wind and cramping. Our guys were still going.

Saturday was college game day. I made gumbo with the help of Evan, and we watched LSU beat Oregon. It was so much fun.

This week will be my last week of seeing Tracy a lot. He is on vacation and then starts his next job. Oh well....

Overall life is good. My kids are exceptional, and I am reminded of that often. I am happy with the qualities that I hammered in so many times. They don't think they are the center of the universe. It's good. Because nobody is. I like them.

Some pictures from Toronto

As always, food makes a strong impression on me.

This does not do this market justice. It was indredible.

one of so many

downtown

Love these little shops and this cool part of town. Courage My Love was my favorite store.


I'm back from my trip to Canada with my Love. I will write my thoughts later.

Leaving Canada today. I will post pictures tomorrow. I had a great time.

Give

Moving on from my hair. That's just too much me. It's a new day.

Altruism is the renunciation of the self and an exclusive concern for the welfare of others. It is a traditional virtue in many cultures and a core aspect of various religious traditions, though the concept of 'others' toward whom concern should be directed can vary among religions. Altruism is the opposite of selfishness.


I will be watchful for opportunities to be altruistic. Godspeed to the others trying for this. I find that it's not losing yourself to the point of no self, but giving the self that is uniquely "you" to others. Only you or I can do that. Which means we need each other. I'm a hand, and you're a foot. Some would say I am a mouth. Regardless, I know I'm part of the heart. LOVE to you.

Vanity thy name is...

I think I've been pretty clear about my disdain for hair dying. I hate it. I feel (am) fake when I do it. Society wins on this one, and I am pissed. It's like stuffing your bra or getting butt implants. We are supposed to be secure and at peace with who we are and our age, but only with no gray hair. Having gray would be "letting yourself go". Gray hair = old, and that is bad, I guess. So once every 6 weeks or so, I bow down to the world's opinion of what makes me "beautiful", and I fry my hair. I throw $10 to the Magazine gods or whoever the hell I am adhering to. I submit my brain to the beauty industry's propaganda.  I would have been just awesome in Germany in the 30's. A real maverick. (sarcasm in case you didn't catch that vibe.) Please know that I know I am a hypocrite. I cannot bear the thought of Tracy not thinking I am sexy. I am vain and need to look at my reflection, shoot myself with finger guns, and give a quick air kiss like every body else. I want to be admired and pretty. And I am willing to do what it takes and what I have enough money for. If I lived in one of those African tribes, I'd wear neck stretchers, and I'd have guaged ear lobes, and I'd walk around topless.  I know what I am, and I am no better than any other woman in the world. At the end of the day, I want a man (Tracy Miller in my case) to want me. Damn.

 So yesterday, ironically and so sadly, I made a dye mistake. I know better. I wanted to go a little darker, for "fun", and I chose Dark Ash. It might as well have been called Gothic Brown or Gypsy Wannabe or Gene Simmons Maple. My hair is black.(Oh that's pretty, Karen.) No it's not. I am horrified. It's like I have a subliminal force or drive to screw my hair up. A masochistic need, and I'm sadistic enough to oblige.  I've got to get some inner beauty. Fast.  If anybody has any cures, remedies, or just their own stupid stories, I would appreciate it. Meanwhile, I will continue to be startled every time I pass by a mirror. Who is that old looking woman with the jet black head? Oh that's me. Adios?

Gainesville Sun Media Day

Chase, Evan, Bruce, and Matt

love this picture.

Wedding Bells

For those that do not know yet, my Andrew and sweet Chelsea are getting married. They have decided to have their ceremony on October 22, 2011. I am thrilled. I could not hand pick a better suited person for each of them. I realize they are young, but who cares, really? They have as good a shot as any. Hell, a better shot than me.

Marriage is an interesting concept. The notarized piece of paper means nothing to me except for the fact that you have a legal contract with someone. Whatever. I have a legal contract with the IRS, too. Marriage is more about the heart and mind. It's about the integrity of committing to this other human being forever. Such great intent! It's a covenant. A sacred promise to treat someone with love and respect. To walk through life with someone. To partner up.

And then the children come along. That is another story. For now, I will be so happy for Andrew and my little Chelsea. It gives me hope to see their optimism and love. I hope they soar. What could be better than that?

Happy me.

Most of the family in Clearwater.

Good Bye, Summer

My Canadian in laws left this morning. I absolutely adore them. They are good, fun, and full of love. They embraced my own children like they were theirs, too. I am mostly happy about that.

Now school starts tomorrow. Summer will be over, and I am thrilled. I will see the kids in a normal day to day setting, and we will have some structure. I am still having nightmares about so many things, but I can't help that.

I'll have more soon. Things are shifting for me, and I will have to put it all into words to make sense of it.

There was a farmer that had a dog.....

Last night Kathy and I went to the American Legion Hall Bingo night. The sign said it started at 6, so we got there on time. The whole room looked up, almost froze when we came in. They were in the middle of a game, and it was that moment in a western when the saloon goes silent when the stranger swings open those little doors. (What good are those doors for anyway?) We made our way to the back where the lady was obviously in charge. I'm pretty sure at that time I was the only person under the age of 65. Oh and Gary. He got called out by the microphone lady for not getting in his seat. I grew up Catholic. I have spent some time in the Bingo hall at St Alphosus. This was not quite the same spirit. I saw no priest drinking tap beer. I would have loved a beer.

We found out quickly that we were in the pregame phase- Early Bird. The real Bingo started at 7. I was thinking that with my hour to kill I would go to JBBQ and get a Fanta or something. The smoke was already getting to me. But the lady said not necessary. There were refreshments back in the kitchen. So Kathy listened to the lady explain all the ways you could win. Lines, Postage stamp, six pack, Crazy T, the K, and Full Kite. I will never trust an old person again that acts like they can't catch on to things. My God. We grabbed our ink dobbers and headed across the room to the "non smoking" section.

The games went pretty quickly. I only ruined one card. And I was so happy to win in the last game. Unfortunately, I had bingo'd who knows how long ago when I discovered my Inner Square. I got confirmation from the people at the next table, our Bingo Mentors, and I yelled. Someone else had Bingo'd by that time so I had to split the pot.The one thing I still can't get over is the announcer lady's absolute refusal to say the word "yellow". She called the yellow card burnt orange and when corrected by novices like me and some others, she said she didn't have to say that word and basically if you don't like it, kiss her ass. I wanted to know what yellow had done to her. What happened to her in a yellow room, or what jerk back during the war broke her heart in a yellow suit. I came dangerously close to asking her, but thought I would just let it go. Who am I?

So we got home at about 1030. I had to take a shower since even my underwear smelled like smoke. I crawled in bed, accidentally poked Tracy Miller in the face, he sleepily said "Baby, what the f**k?, and I cuddled up next to him and went to sleep.

Following the Yellow

Tracy's Dad and stepmom, Kathy, are here from Canada. They drove their red van down from highs in the 80's to hot humid Florida. I have decided after not much time that I want to be Kathy. She is authentic and beautiful. She doesn't have deep worry and sadness lines in her face like I do. I intend to find out why....She has no idea, but while talking to her I almost cried 3 times. She's a Catholic girl, so we both know what the deal is. But what I like about her the most (so far) is her spirit. It's the spirit that I have/had but I have buried for reasons I cannot say. She is not diminished. She works at a Walmart McDonalds in Canada and loves it. She loves being around people. Kinda like my JBBQ. She believes in God and is open to suggestions. And she loves purple. She knows it's a lucky color. I told her of my love for yellow as well and she shared her sister's story. When her sister needed guidance in life's maze, she would get alone, close her eyes, and when she opened them, would look for yellow wherever she was. She would follow the yellow. I am not sure how, but I want to follow the yellow. I will find that out, too...So, I will have a good week. I get to talk with a truly interesting and sincere soul. It's like water in the desert. Lucky purple me.

Guest Post from Bradley

(Bradley is my oldest son. He will begin an editorial segment on my blog. Starting today. I am trying to think of a good name for it. Perhaps I can get some feedback on that...)

Hello there friends of Karen, my name is Bradley Harvey. As you may have gathered from the intro, I am Karen's oldest and most likable son. I, like Karen, have been told many a time that I should take up blogging because I'm "soooo funnnnnyyy". While you'll inevitably beg to differ, I have been meaning to write in some  fashion for quite some time. Factor in my unwillingness to commit to anything long term, and you have the makings of a guest blogger. I'll pop in from time to time, breaking up the monotony of the Porch to bring you a gritty, fresh perspective on life and world events. Or I'll just tell a funny story and let Karen handle the serious stuff.

As it turns out, we actually do have serious matters to attend to today. The single most important event of the Miller/Harvey calendar year is fast approaching, LSU Football. Like Karen alluded to in a previous post, being an LSU football fan is like discovering Mumford and Sons before they hit it big. You have this great, life-altering source of excitement that virtually no one knows about. Non-fans will act like they're listening, feign interest to appease you, all the while resting comfortably in the knowledge that every fan feels that way about their team. Every college football team is special.
Then they experience this for themselves:
THIS will hurt you, because it finds it's way into your soul, where football shouldn't be. Losing shouldn't depress you for months( in my case, years), and winning shouldn't give you the unquestionable dominance over peers that it does. LSU has this power because it isn't about football, it's about the Louques. And the Leblancs, Templates, and every other families that hails from Louisiana. It's the purest form of passion you can have. The best part is, like head lice, LSU football is contagious. Charlie, Kameron, Kenny, Chase, Wynston, Zak, Nik, and numerous others can attest, there's no better time to be had. I have cried, provoked near physical altercations, and lept a solid 9 feet across my living room in celebration for a touchdown. I invite anyone and everyone to come to the house this fall, on a Saturday to watch our boys with us. You may not like me afterwards, but you will sure as hell like LSU football.

2011 brings warranted optimism in our squad, as our defense is reaching Saban-like levels, and Jordan Jefferson can't get any worse. What's more exciting, the old boys of Florida are ranked a respectable 23rd in the nation. The normal trash talk from the squarest men in the land has been strangely absent, likely because John Brantley looks to lead an offense less excting than Timothy Tebow latest book "The Moment that Counts: The Subtle Art of Crying when the Camera is Watching".  As it stands, I'm going in confident with com padre Evan Starvey and the Mother of fandom, Karen herself. If you didn't like this, deal with it.

No Place Like Home.

When people here in the south comment in February how cold it is, Tracy just smiles to himself. He's from Canada. He knows there is cold, and then there is wicked cold. It's the same way that Me and my kids feel when someone says that their family is crazy. We just nod and listen to the wild story about Aunt So and So spilling the chowder or Grandpa getting worked up about something. We know crazy. And we like it. And so it is with LSU sports. You just don't know. Some of you do. We have brought you to Baton Rouge on gameday. Some have been in our living room and felt the tiny bit of crazy. I remember Evan running outside and howling at the moon, Bradley getting his blood pressure checked and then being ejected from the living room, or what kid hasn't sat by me and gotten the crap knocked out of him while I yelled Just Geaux (Wynston, Ryan, Tyler, Charlie, Kenny, and so many more) If you watch this clip, please notice that most of the plays are in the 4th, game on the line...I remember all of them. I know where I was. So, enjoy if you feel like it. I did. And if you are watching LSU and they are losing, don't go to bed. You never count those boys out.

A year ago I had no idea that I would be married and living where I live. It makes me wonder what next year will be like. I honestly can say I have no idea. I know school is about to start, so my kids will come home. I am happy for that. I will be working at JBBQ. I love my job and my boss. I am very lucky. I will start going back to the track soon. I have been waiting for a hip thing to get better, so maybe soon...I love the football field. When I go, the sprinklers are on, and I am usually alone. I run or walk distances for my kids and other fortunate recipients of my love. I like dedicating sacrifice to them. It makes it easier.

There are no sure things in my life I am finding. Well, maybe a few. The sun tends to rise and set...child support is never on time...I will laugh at some point every day. But I have come to the understanding, again, that nobody takes care of me but me. I can't get that through this head, but it's the truth. I like being taken care of. It's why I take care of everybody else. The do unto others ...but Oprah was wrong. Just because you put things out there, they don't necessarily return. You have to give for the sake of giving. For the simple joy of emptying out yourself. People are not bound by the universe to return the favor. I gotta remember this shit.

Have a nice Wednesday.

We (I) think things about ourselves that are not always the case. I know I like to think I'm kind or loving or whatever. I think a good way to find out who I am would be to ask my children what they think is important to me. Or the people I work with. That would be a place to start. I think we all have core values that are there, but we stray off the path. I know what I think is important. I just don't know if I have been acting like it. So, today I will try. To get back. To look at other people and to respect myself in some small way. Because I don't. I too often diminish all of me in order to be "loved" or at peace. I am searching for the balance. Today I will look for opportunities to be nice. That's all.

Tomorrow is my friend Carole's blog birthday or anniversary or whatever is appropriate. I love Carole, and I love her thoughts. She asked me to say something about her blog, The Wardrobe and the White Tree, on this momentous eve. So here is what I said. Love you, Carole Sue. I hope this doesn't spoil it.

I am sitting here trying to remember the first time I read your blog. Truth is, I can't. It's either one of the many signs of dementia I am noticing, or your blog is so ingrained in my day to day life that it just has no beginning. I will say that you are the inspiration for my own blog. You are the one that encouraged me to write my thoughts, you set the whole thing up, and you are the one I think of when I neglect it. So thank you. I love blogging. I know it is a little bit of exhibitionism mixed with subtle cries for help. But it's also our small history. Our chronicle of this journey that is sad and happy and silly. Our kids can read it and know our hearts if they feel like it. Stalkers can feed their obsessions, and people may sometimes get inspired to carry on one more friggin day. My advice to myself and you is not to censor your heart. There is not some huge responsibility to represent institutions by not discussing why you drank too much wine last night and danced in the kitchen with your husband. OK, that was me, but don't take it too seriously. Life is fun, and I believe God likes us. Carry on, Sue. I love you. Karen

Counting down til the end of summer. Lots of beginnings and ends and unknowns. Not wanting to sound sad. I'm trying not to be one of those "I'm hurting" blogs. People are still the same, good and bad. I'm off to work. My life is wonderful, my husband was made for me, and I have great kids/adults. Have a great day.

Some fun with a few of my JBBQ Beauties.




I work with young beautiful women. It makes it so hard not to want plastic surgery. These are just a few of the ladies of Johnny's, and they are as smart, strong, and funny as they are gorgeous. Love them.

Some fun with my JBBQ girls.



And I thought Evan was a sad, lonely teen.

Morgan, my Chelsea, Kilee, Nikki, me, Kelly, and Pappy

My Veritas

Tracy and I watched a movie tonight. One of the characters had the word "veritas" tattooed on his hand. I loved it. I have always had a crush on that word (like pontificate), but don't get to use it often. It means Truth. There was a Roman goddess named Veritas, and little does my super hot Canadian know, but there is a statue of the same Veritas in front of the Canadian Supreme Court. Yep. That's right.

This is not a post about what is truth. I have been pretty thorough about my confusion and ever seeking of that very thing. But I was thinking about what I know to be true. My veritas, if you will please. I believe in God. But how do you make a case or give an account for your belief without the Bible? I mean, most people who don't believe that God exists usually don't give too much credit to the Bible. If they are well read, they know of the historical value. But I hate to say, most people are not well read. At least not in historical cultures and whatnot. So, back to my case for God.

I would have to say the design of nature. And by nature, I mean me and you and trees. Just watching Nova's Miracle of Life is a compelling statement of a non random design. Everything is so perfect, so thought through, so harmonious. I carried 5 people inside of me while they formed. Every detail was taken care of. Even the moment of "imprinting" when for about 20 minutes a newborn's vision is clear for about 12 inches. The distance from a mother's breast to the mother's face. So while a baby is suckling for the first time, he sees clearly the face that will nurture and adore and scratch the night nurse's eyes out for him. Honestly, don't get me going on breastfeeding and the existance of God. I need no other proof.

 I do not see nature, when left to itself, becoming more sophisticated. It becomes ruins. It doesn't make sense to me that such wondrous complication came from nothing. And I am completely comfortable to think that God has designed man and nature to adapt over the ages. It's not a contradiction to me. It actually supports my idea that God is living and changing things as we go along through history.

So that is me. I have faith in a God I cannot see. But like the wind that I can't see, I see His effects. There is so much more, but I will try to stay simple. To live in and up to this veritas.