Madness at 12,000 Feet!

Recently a group of my friends and I went to Gatlinburg to celebrate Eric's birthday. It has been his lifelong dream to skydive and being the people-pleasing (LOL) girlfriend that I am I decided to make that dream come true for him.

Originally there were 5 of us that were going to make the 12,000 foot jump but as the big day approached, one by one our friends backed out. I guess I can't blame them. I probably would've chickened out too if I had allowed myself to dwell on the fact that I'd just paid the deposit to hurl my body 12,000 feet to the ground in a 120 mph freefall. I chose to not think about

Saturday morning we drove toward Bristol, TN following detailed directions that included phrases like "Fish Hatchery" and "Past the old barn with the cornfield". For some reason, I was under the impression that we were going to an airport… silly Elicia. We actually drove past the drop zone the first time because I refused to accept the fact that we really might have just passed a runway that was cut through the middle of the wheat field.

After turning the car around and questioning my judgment and sanity for the five minute ride back we arrived at the site. We parked next to a porta-potty and were greeted by "Bobby" our flight instructor. Bobby handed us our liability waivers that we had to initial next to sentences like "In case of death or dismemberment…" All I could think about was, "OMG, I don't have health insurance" and "Did I remember to tell my sister that my life insurance papers and my Will are in my office?"

During my time of high anxiety Bobby looked at me and said, "Thinking this might have been a bad idea?"

Geez. You think?

We had a five minute class behind the plywood covered platform that served as the office, gear prep area, and lobby. We learned valuable flight terms such as "Aoogah!" and "Fabulous!" and why it is important to kick your tandem partner in the butt with your feet during freefall.

The next lesson I learned in Skydiving 101: You're not doing it right if you don't look ridiculous.

Enough said.

Finally I kissed my children goodbye, told Eric he'd BETTER love me for doing this and Bobby and I went up in the plane. It was a long ride and every moment of it was breathtaking. We were over the Smoky Mountains which ironically were VERY smoky that day due to forest fires. (As if jumping out of a plane isn't enough, let's do it over a burning landscape!) The plane began getting lost in the clouds and as the ground started looking more like a patchwork quilt than terrain I asked Bobby, "So how high are we?"

He checked his gauge. "Just over 3,000 feet."

Oh hell.

Our test jumper climbed out of the plane at about 5,000 feet. It was his job to test the wind to see where we should jump so we could land at the right place. Our test jumper was and eighty year old man. That alone was worth the day. He was my hero.

About seven minutes later Bobby nudged me. "This is it."

I swallowed hard and scooted to the front of the plane. The door swooshed open and the howling wind deafened me. I put one foot out on the wing and clung to the other side for dear life. I was strapped to Bobby so I knew as I dangled out of the side of the plane I had no choice but to go when he went. There was no turning back. We were so high it felt like we were jumping out of a space shuttle rather than a plane, but before I had a chance to get too freaked out we were plummeting to the earth below.

About three seconds into freefall your stomach catches up with the rest of your body and you no longer feel like you are falling. It really is like flying… in a downward direction of course. You can't see very much during freefall or breathe for that matter with the wind rushing in your face, but it's one of the coolest feelings I've ever had.

When the parachute deployed and we were jerked to a stop. I relaxed. It's always a good sign with the chute goes up. Spare any homicidal birds or floating embers from the fire we were out of harms way.

The view was unreal. The fires were still burning, but off at a safe distance and the horizon was spectacular. It amazed me how there could actually be people in the world that didn't believe in a Creator . There is no way I could imagine that what I saw from 12,000 feet was just there by chance.

With Bobby strapped to my back and the harness straps cutting off the blood flow to my legs we continued our descent to the ground. Thankfully when we reached the Earth, I was there to break Bobby's fall. I laid there for a moment taking in all of what I'd just experienced until our camera guy offered me his hand and said, "You can get up now, ya know?"

Canaan and Will were running toward me and my friends were furiously waving from the other side of the field.

So I add the experience to a long list of adjectives for myself. I am a mom, a computer nerd, a skydiver and now officially... a badass.

LOL.

Thanks to our new friends at Skydive Smoky Mountains!
www.skydivesmokymountains.com

Don't Let the Boat Pull You Over

If you've been reading my blogs for any amount of time you're probably ready for yet another meaningless life event blown up into some grand over thought analogy right? Well, you are in luck! This one begins with a tale from The Adventures of Dale Hollow Lake, a book that I will someday win the Pulitzer for… or maybe not.

I love being on the lake, but I'm not an avid water sports woman by any stretch of the imagination. My adventures usually involve a chick-lit novel, a floatation device (worn like a diaper) and a cold Corona with lime. I might get a little crazy from time to time depending upon the heat of the sun and wind up mildly tipsy and radically sunburned, but that's usually where the excitement ends.

This past weekend I was invited on a houseboat trip with some friends. In typical Elicia style, I stretched out on the top deck to get my tan (burn) on with a good book and good tunes. Unlike my usual accomplices on such trips the friends that were with me were much more into activity than relaxation and someone threw out the idea of wakeboarding. After some friendly persuasion, I put down the book and decided to give it a try.

My mind normally convinces my body that it is better, stronger, faster and more agile than it really is. Wakeboarding was no different. I looked easy enough. Relax in the water and wait for the boat to help you to a standing position and then glide across the water. I strapped on my board and floated out into the water waiting for the ski rope to be tossed to me. As I tried to get the board to cooperate with the direction of my feet while I merely floated, I realized quickly that I was sorely mistaken in my perception of the ease of the sport.

As much as I would love to say that I got up on my first attempt, the boat actually ripped the rope from my hands before I even realized we were moving.

The second attempt was strangely similar.

On the third attempt I did actually hang on but as soon I was partially up out of the water I was pulled over and landed flat on my face.

The boat circled around and the captain shouted over at me, "Girl, don't let this boat pull you over! You've almost got it!"

Five blisters, a pulled muscle and twelve attempts later I decided that I wasn't cut out for the world of wakeboarding. My friends pulled my exhausted body back to the boat and I barely made it out of the water before collapsing on the swim deck. I could have easily felt defeated, especially when everyone that followed me was not only able to stand up but could glide, spin around and even jump. However as I recovered and examined my bruised and blistered hands I couldn't help but feel a little proud. I had given those waves everything I had.

Every day for the past few months has had the boat-like potential to pull me over onto my face and leave me wallowing in the wake of my old life. A life that sometimes feels almost like it never even existed. I'm moving on through the sadness and tears, confusion and grief and I refuse to let the boat pull me over.

Sure, I might fail. I might fall flat on my face a few times, but I won't go down without a fight, a few blisters and humming the Rocky theme song.

"Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength." - August Wilson

You Make Me Stupid

By standard definition I am a pretty smart girl. I graduated with good grades with little effort. I like to read and play trivia. I can write and spell and most of the time I am grammatically close if not correct. I enjoy taking practice tests for college even though I never attended. I actually keep considering getting my bachelors but still haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up. I like helping kids with their homework and I enjoy seeing others succeed in education. I do well in my career and am for the most part self-taught. I know this all may sound a little cocky but I'm about to humble myself before you all. The point is: For the most part, I feel like I'm a pretty bright bulb most of the time.

Except the moments when I am stupid.

I'm dating a wonderful guy that has already seen all of the faces that I have. The sad face, the pissed off face, the giddy face and more and more he's seeing my stupid face. In all walks of who I am I feel as though Eric makes me a better person. However, I don't know what it is about him, but for some reason he brings out all the stupid in me!

Enjoy!

Incident #1
I love bubble baths. Eric bought me a nice gift set from Philosophy (guys take note: you can't ever go wrong with ANYTHING from Philosophy!) In the set was Red Velvet Cake Bubble Bath. Yum.

A few days after giving me the present we were having a riveting conversation about ice cream and he brought up Red Velvet Cake ice cream. At the thought of this I made the vomit noise. Nothing about red velvet ice cream sounded appealing. The conversation went something like this:

"Well, if you don't like red velvet I guess I screwed up on the gift," he said to me.

Realizing my blunder and my love for my new bubble bath I quickly back peddled. "Silly Eric, there is a difference between scent and smell!"

Eric pauses and then grins. "Uh… no Elicia, there's really not."

Incident #2
Eric is a Marine. A few weeks ago we went to KY Kingdom for the weekend and in the park we saw a guy walking around in full uniform. Now, Eric is just as proud as the next member of the military, but he doesn't have to flaunt it in order to feel special. Upon seeing this Army boot camp grad he rolled his eyes and mentioned how ridiculous he thought he thought it was that they were allowed to strut about in public in their cammies. I thought it was ridiculous simply because it was about 90 degrees out there and the guy was sweating like a stuck pig!

About an hour or so later we came across someone else in full uniform. Now, I'm sure someday I will be able to distinguish the different branches of the military on sight by colors, prints and emblems but we haven't really been together that long yet… And this guy was wearing a funny hat.

I nudged Eric with my elbow and pointed. "Hey Eric, what kind of Army is he?"

Without missing a beat. "Well, Elicia… that would be the US Army."

Incident #3
A group of our friends went to go see a thriller flick out in Cool Springs. I was a little perturbed because I was there against my will. I HATE SCARY MOVIES. The movie theater was PACKED. There were limos and buses dropping people off in droves and we had to wait in line forever to get our tickets.

He looks around the theater. "What is going on? What's with all the people?"

I roll my eyes. "What do you expect on a Saturday night?"

"I don't know, Elicia. Since it's Friday."

Incident #4
Recently we went on a Hookah bar adventure with some friends. Too make a complicated story short a hookah is a pipe that you smoke flavored tobacco out of. There is a stone that rests in the top of the bowl and we couldn't decide if the stone is what we were smoking or if the tobacco was underneath the stone. If you know the answer to this, please let me know…

Last night on our way to see The Dark Knight we were discussing the hookah stone again.

"Elicia, how could anyone make a stone out of tobacco?" he asked.

I pondered this for a minute. "Well, you know Eric they DO make paper out of cotton."

Again, he doesn't miss a bit. "Actually, Elicia. They make paper out of trees."

I don't know what goes wrong in my head whenever I'm around him. I don't know if my brain cells explode at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and cause me to drop a few IQ points or what. It's to the point now that as soon as I said the "paper is made out of cotton" bit I burst out in uncontrollable laughter before he could even get out his whole statement of correction.

I'm amazed that he hasn't rolled his eyes and dumped me yet for being a complete ditz. He keeps telling me that he likes the fact that I have a good head on my shoulders…. I guess I'm just determined to prove him wrong.

This is the way...

Yes, I know I’ve been pretty quiet lately. I’ve refused to blog because I’ve refused to write anything that would just depress the hell out of everyone. Let’s face it; my life hasn’t been a big ball o’ sunshine the past couple of weeks. However, I feel as though I am making a turn and that the road ahead is looking up. So, tonight I’m back on the blog front.

I still haven’t made much sense out of the recent events of my life and I’m coming to grips with the fact that Robert’s death will never make any sense – at least not in this lifetime. The only comfort that I have found is being able to look back over the past year and clearly see that even though we were all blind sighted by this tragedy, God wasn’t. He knew that Robert’s time with us was coming to a close and He had begun preparing us all for it long ago.

When my good friend Eric died suddenly in a car accident last February Robert and I really began to consider life insurance. Up until that point, we only had a small $20,000 policy and naively believed that this was more than sufficient. Well, guess what folks? The funeral and burial alone was $16,000. Yes, I know I’m over sharing some personal info here, but I truly believe it is important. PLEASE listen to me. If you don’t have life insurance, especially if you have kids, DO NOT WAIT another day to get yourself covered. Even though I’m not (by any means) sitting on a pile of money as a rich widow, I can’t imagine having to worry about getting food on the table for my kids while dealing with all of the ups and downs that his death has brought. Hopefully you will never need to use it, but trust me, life insurance is one of the most important, selfless and beneficial things you buy for your family.

The most comforting thing that I can see in hindsight is Robert’s growing relationship with a God who knew that Robert would be in His presence soon. Our dear friend Brenda wrote this in a memorial to Robert days after he was gone and I want to share it with you.

These last few months were especially challenging for Robert personally and as a result he had begun to desperately depend and recognize God in a new way. Robert was a man that God demonstrated his unfailing love to until the final moment He called him home. I believe God was working with Robert these last few months and I believe that Robert began to personally know a loving God. I believe Robert is with Jesus and for the first time Robert is embracing the abiding comfort of a merciful and faithful God who was faithful to complete what He had started in him.

I’m not a preachy kinda girl. I don’t get on a religious soapbox very often but Brenda is right. Robert accepted Christ into his life when he was 15. So it is not cliché when I say and believe that Robert is in a better place. I KNOW he is. Was he perfect? Nope. And he’d be the first to admit it. But thankfully we don’t have to be perfect, we just have to have faith in the One that makes us perfect in His time. Because of this, my kids can go to bed every night and think of their Daddy in heaven with Jesus and it helps them rest. Oh to have childlike faith again…

I was reminded of a great scripture tonight. It comes from Isaiah 30. It says, Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it." I am reminded that even when I’m lost in confusion and my body is racked with exhaustion from the journey there is someone behind me that clearly sees the path and all of the obstacles and pitfalls along it. He doesn’t choose the car accident, but He sees it ahead and directs my path through it.

OK.... so it was only mildly depressing. ;-)

Why Am I Left Behind?

I've been on hiatus from writing for the past few weeks as I've been walking through the most difficult season of my life to date. Most of you probably know that my husband was killed in a car accident on May 31st. It was dreadfully unexpected as most accidents are and I have been left here in the wake of the aftermath trying to make sense of it all. The days pass quickly and are filled with emotion and tears. Yes, I said tears… who knew that the Scorpion Crusher could cry after all?

The few months before Robert was taken from this life have not been easy to say the least. I haven't blogged about it because some things in life just shouldn't be laid out for all of cyberspace to read. We separated in February and were going through what was turning into a very painful divorce for both of us. Over the past 13 days I've dealt with more emotion than I thought was humanly possible. Hermione Granger (for all you Harry Potter fans) once accused her friend Ron of having the emotional range of a teaspoon when he said to her "someone can't possibly feel all of those things at once, they'd explode!" Well, guess what Ron? You can feel a thousand different things at once and not explode even though you might want to.

The biggest thing I've dealt with is guilt. I keep questioning that maybe if I'd done things differently he would still be with us. I've laid awake many nights wondering, "Maybe this really is all my fault." In these dark times I'm fortunate to have good people around me and the smiling faces of my two children to pull me through.

My sister sent me an email this morning to encourage me after a long conversation on the phone last night. It was a verse from the Psalms. "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:16b

God knew of Robert's accident long before we ever separated. His days were numbered and held securely in the hand of the Father before Robert was ever even born.

I don't have an answer as to why all of this has happened. I may never know. I am however certain that God knows and that He has a plan for me and the kids. Last year I lost a couple of very dear friends and at their funeral someone said, "I don't ask God why He took them, but I ask Him why He left me behind."

One thing I've learned is that we are not guaranteed tomorrow. Live life today and love those around you as if it's the last day you'll ever spend with them.

Thank you to everyone for all of your love and support! I could not do this without you!

The Birthday Curse

Birthdays have always been a big deal in my family. Not one birthday in my life has passed without all of the birthday staples: friends, cake, ice cream, and presents. I love any excuse for a party and especially love MYSELF being the excuse. Most normal people (I think) sit back and wait to see if anyone plans anything special to celebrate their big day, but not me. I want to do it all, including sometimes baking my own cake! (I realize that this further confirms my skewed level of normality.) My reasoning is simple. It's my big day and I want to do exactly what I want for MY DAY, so who better to plan it than MYSELF? Sure, this might sound a little arrogant and selfish, but I grant myself this selfishness one day out of 364, so back off! :-)

I'm a holiday baby. I was born on the 26th of May (write it down, I expect a card) and the 26th always falls right around Memorial Day weekend. If I wasn't as deeply grateful as I am for the sacrifices made by our military for my freedom and safety, I would almost joke that my birthday is a National Holiday. However, out of respect for our armed forces that are way more badass than I'll ever be, I'll just be honored to be celebrated in general proximity to their holiday and extremely grateful for my 3 day birthday weekend every year. My big weekend is usually always perfect weather, hot enough for swimming but cool enough to want to be outside. People are by default friendly and fun loving and Anheuser-Busch goes into over-production mode for party-goers. It's the perfect time to celebrate.

You're all jealous now aren't you? I can see you there considering how poor it is to be born on some ordinary date in March that typically always falls on a rainy Monday when the coworkers are cranky and oblivious that anything is special in your world. Well, cheer up because I haven't told you about the Birthday Curse.

It all began when I turned 21. This is supposed to be the monument of all monumental birthdays, correct? I planned my perfect weekend for months. My closest friends from all over the US were going to gather at a cabin in the Smokeys for the weekend. We had a hot tub, pool table, grilling deck, and were far enough on top of the mountain to be as loud and obnoxious as we wanted. Great plan, right? Negative. It was a disaster. From the moment we all unpacked there was horrendous fighting and I lost one of my most valued friendships of all time that weekend. The heated confrontations weren't the worst of the drama either. Another friend of mine had to be taken to the hospital for fear of a heart attack, someone else got a stomach virus and to top it off I fell and cracked my head on the hot tub – not once, but twice. The Birthday Curse had commenced.

Every birthday since has been become a mini-crusade to try to recoup for the tragedies of my 21st but every celebration has failed incredibly. I've had more trips to the hospital, friendly-fire wars and family meltdowns than any once person should ever have to endure.

This year as I began the countdown to my big day fear and anxiety were in full force. What horrors would this year hold? God knows, my life sucks enough on a regular day lately… what more can I handle? I seriously considered locking myself in my bedroom and not coming out all weekend. Seriously. Briefly, I played with the idea of having a cookout with friends, because that's harmless right? However, after sending the invitations I began to fret about the fire liability of a grill and canceled the cookout. My sister even begged to throw me a dinner party and I practically refused because hell, at this point it's better to be safe than sorry! I'm tired of singing "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to!"

So I became anti-birthday this year and sat on my ass and didn't plan anything. And something amazing happened. I had the best birthday EVER. J

It's funny what life can present to you if you just let things take a natural course and stop trying to write your future for yourself. My best friend came to Nashville to see me, taking her only vacation time for the year just for me. That alone, MADE my weekend. Together we spent four days playing with my kids, visiting with people, laughing, and partying. On Sunday my wonderful sister convinced me to do a low-key dinner and I am so glad that I agreed. It was fabulous. Finally, on Monday my actual birthday passed almost completely without incident and ended with 3 amazing friends, a bottle of wine, a good movie and a surprise birthday cake. At midnight we toasted to the END of the Birthday Curse!

Happy Birthday to me and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all of you who love me and have made this year soooo special!!!

Bring it on 28! I'm ready for ya!

If any of you have experienced any of your own birthday curses or have had the joy of being a part of mine, feel free to share!!!

The Phoenix Firebird

I recently got a new tattoo. I have a mild addiction to this form of self-expression but I’ve kept myself contained to only having four (so far). After all, good ink doesn’t come cheap. This year, in honor of my 27th birthday, some dear folks in my life donated money to my ink fund. So with a few ideas in mind, this weekend I submitted myself to the hands of a tattoo master and the pointy end of a vibrating needle.

I’m not the kind of personality that is content with walking into a tattoo parlor, picking a design off the wall and letting some no-name artist (or skuz-bucket with a gun) brand me for life. All of my ink, with the exception of my first tattoo, involved months of preparation and planning. I start with an idea then research artists and shops, looking at reviews and portfolios before calling and making an appointment. Sometimes this process takes years, but since it’s not one of those things you get to “do over” if you mess it up, the meticulousness of it all is very worthwhile for me.

On Saturday, I had a phoenix forever imprinted on my leg and foot. For those of you who slept during Greek mythology here’s a crash course on this history of this creature. The phoenix is an ancient mythical firebird that ignites into flame when it has reached the end of its lifespan and is reborn from the ashes. Pretty badass huh?

As we’ve discussed, I’ve been through a lot of rebirths in my 27th years on the planet Earth. Whenever my birthday rolls around I can’t help but reminisce and sometime shudder at all I’ve walked through. I’d be lying if I tried to pull the “woe is me” card because most of the crap that has happened to me or around me has been self induced by a lot of poor decision making. Never the less, I’ve always come out on top and hopefully better off than I was before.

But let me tell you, the fire isn’t easy. It’s painful. Even more painful than having the top of your foot tattooed… and take it from me – that HURTS.

During this season of my life I find myself in the fire once again. All of my trips to the inferno have made me realize that it’s best to suck it up and get it over with, sort of like digging out a splinter. Yeah, it hurts, but not as bad as it will once it gets all oozy and infected. I can’t run from the demons that I have picked up along the road of the world. Running away from dealing with things only prolongs the pain and spreads it out on more people around me. So I choose to stand firm, not back down and accept the flames that are refining me.

In my experience, self discovery has always been excruciating. I’ve spent more time on “the couch” than my wallet would like to admit. Recently my therapist has been trying to make me cry because apparently my tear ducts are broken. I think it’s because I have lost my soul sometime over the past few years. My friends tell me that I can’t cry because I crush scorpions, but that’s a whole different blog… and tattoo. :-)