Mrs. E

"I have 7 children. 3 are grown and have families. 4 of them died as babies. They are still my babies, and I love them all the same."   -- E.


From my much older friend E. She's in her 70s, and she's awesome. She loves her babies. She misses them. She tears up when she talks about them. She holds a baby doll in her lap while she sews and holds it close when she's hurting.

That pain never goes away. But I hope that one day I can carry it as gracefully as she has.

Memorial Day....without the Happy.

That first guy you see saluting? That's my great friend Chris. He was the first friend I made after graduating boot camp.

Chris had an infectious personality. He was always happy. He was always singing the most ridiculous songs. He loved Chinese food and Family Guy. He had to teach every new friend the Penguin Dance.

My sister helped me drive my truck up to Boston and then stayed for a few days to visit. My blood sugar dropped when I went back to work that first morning, and Medical confined me to my room for the rest of the weekend. Chris didn't want my sister to be stuck in the room all weekend, so he took her out for ice cream.

That picture up there was taken on Memorial Day 2008. That was the last time any of us saw Chris alive. He died about an hour after that picture was taken. He had been out of boot camp for about 6 months.

This is how his family spends Memorial Day each year.

No parades. No cookouts. No fireworks. Just a flag, some flowers, and a very heart breaking salute to a very cold headstone.



There is no "Happy" in their Memorial Day. Just as there is no "happy" in it for thousands of other families across America. Please remember to take a few moments out of your celebrating to think of these families and say a prayer for them.

"The words they leave to us"

‘The words they leave to us’

Posted : Saturday May 28, 2011 12:34:34 EDT

(The following is a speech given Thursday by Adm. James Stavridis, commander of U.S. European Command and Supreme Allied Commander, Europe at the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum in New York City where, as Stavridis said, “I humbly accepted this year’s Intrepid Freedom Award. The speech gives some of my thoughts on Memorial Day through letters written by some of the fallen and their families. Please share with me your reflections on this Memorial Day weekend.”)

I want to spend my few minutes tonight with you giving voice to those who cannot be with us. I want to share with you the voices of the fallen and their families.

I want to give voice to the men and women who have given their lives for this nation.

Together, across the years of our nation’s history, they answered the call.

They stood the watch.

They looked neither left nor right.

They did not search for an exit.

They walked steadily and unafraid into mortal danger, knowing all the risks and all the costs.

On rolling ships at sea … on dusty streets under a burning sun … in the high mountain passes … and in the stormy skies … they said simply and bravely, “I will go.”

So many … too many … were lost to us forever.

But in their letters, and those of their loved ones, written in the last days of their lives, there is majesty and honesty and humility that deserve our attention as we approach this Memorial Day.

So tonight, I’d simply like to share with you excerpts from several timeless letters—words written by our nation’s military heroes and their families…who have borne this great country through times of peril and darkness – who have sacrificed so much…so that we could be here tonight rendering our own salute to freedom.

These are beautiful and sad letters … some of them from grieving parents talking about their lost sons and daughters … others, the “last” letter home that begins with the heart-breaking phrase, “If you are reading this letter, it is because I am gone …”

Let me begin with the Civil War, and a letter written by Major Sullivan Ballou, a 32-year old member of the Second Regiment of Rhode Island Volunteers, who died in the Battle of Bull Run.

He wrote to his wife, Sarah, just five days before the battle that would cost his life:
“My very dear Sarah, the indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more … Sarah: my love for you is deathless.

It seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence could break: and yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield. Never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.”

The second letter comes from World War I. A grieving father from this very city writes the following about the loss of his son. “It is hard to open the letters from those you love who are dead; but Quentin’s last letters, written during his three weeks at the front, when of his squadron, on average, a man was killed every day, are written with real joy in the ‘great adventure.’ He was engaged to a very beautiful girl, of very fine and high character; it is heartbreaking for her, as well as for his mother. He had his crowded hour, he died at the crest of life, in the glory of the dawn.”

Quentin was a pilot who was shot down and died behind German lines just months before the end of World War I in 1918. The dead son’s full name was Quentin Roosevelt, the youngest son of former President Theodore Roosevelt, a New York father who lost his beloved son.

Memorial Day, here in this wonderful setting in New York City, would be incomplete without honoring and remembering those who are serving and sacrificing right now: our nation’s youth, America’s sons and daughters, who are fighting yet another battle — struggling to bring peace and freedom to Iraq and Afghanistan — while keeping us all safe from those that would do us harm.

We have lost many brave men and women in Iraq. Army Private First Class Diego Rincon of Georgia wrote his mother a “last letter home.”

“Whether I make it or not, it’s all part of the plan. It can’t be changed, only completed. “Mother” will be the last word I’ll say. Your face will be the last picture that goes through my eyes. I just hope that you’re proud of what I am doing and have faith in my decisions. I will try hard and not give up. I just want to say sorry for anything I have ever done wrong. And I’m doing it all for you, Mom. I love you.”
Another letter from Iraq, this one from US Army Captain Michael MacKinnon, to his young daughter Madison:
“Madison, I’m sorry I broke my promise to you when I said I was coming back. You were the jewel of my life. I don’t think anyone would ever be good enough for you. Stay beautiful, stay sweet. You will always be daddy’s little girl.”

Captain Michael MacKinnon died in October, 2005, in Iraq.

More recently, another father gave voice and image to his son—a Marine Lieutenant lost in today’s conflict in Afghanistan.

“Robert was killed protecting our country, its people, and its values from a terrible and relentless enemy in Afghanistan. We are a broken-hearted but proud family. He was a wonderful and precious boy living a meaningful life. He was in exactly the place he wanted to be, doing exactly what he wanted to do, surrounded by the best men on this earth—his Marines and a Navy Doc.”

This letter was written by a cherished friend of mine, Marine Lieutenant General John Kelly.

What can we learn from these powerful letters?

To answer that, let me close with excerpts from just one more letter. It was written from Iraq as a “just in case” letter by Private First Class Jesse A. Givens, a letter to be delivered to his wife and children only in the event of his death.

“My family,” he writes, “I never thought that I would be writing a letter like this. I really don’t know where to start. The happiest moments in my life all deal with my little family. I will always have with me the small moments we all shared. The moments when we quit taking life so serious and smiled. The sounds of a beautiful boy’s laughter or the simple nudge of a baby unborn. You will never know how complete you have made me…I did not want to have to write this letter. There is so much more I need to say, so much more I need to share…Please keep my babies safe. Please find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving you alone. . . Teach our babies to live life to the fullest, tell yourself to do the same.

I will always be there with you…Do me a favor, after you tuck the children in, give them hugs and kisses from me. Go outside and look at the stars and count them. Don’t forget to smile.
Love Always, Your husband, Jess.”

The letter was delivered in May 2003, two weeks before the birth of their son and just after his death in combat …

So again, I ask, what can we take from these letters, so sweet and sad and powerful in their simplicity and honesty?

First, and most importantly, that we are a lucky nation indeed to have such men and women, who say to us, “I will go.”

Second, that their words matter. Their lives had weight and importance. That we read their letters and in events like this, respect them and grieve with their families for their loss. And perhaps most importantly, that we support their families. That is what INTREPID is all about.

Third, a lesson for all of us who go on in this world, safe and protected due to the sacrifice of others: we should live our lives to the fullest.

To that end, I’d like to close on this magical night on board this historic ship by repeating the words of young Private First Class Jess Givens — who will be forever young in our hearts and our prayers. What he has to tell is us far more profound than anything this aging admiral has to say:

He said:

Hug and kiss your children
Go outside and look at the stars
Don’t forget to smile

That is pretty good advice for a Memorial Day … or any day.

In the end, what else really matters?

So let us remember our heroes — those of our past and those of our present who walk among us right now.

Again, this is THEIR award. I am proud only to give voice to them tonight.

God Bless you all and God Bless America.

Adm. James Stavridis
Commander, U.S. European Command and Supreme Allied Commander, Europe



This article was shared in its entirety from Navy Times.

Exhausted.

We took our dog hiking around Pass Lake yesterday. Normally he will walk up to the water, dip his paws in, and run back out. This time, he dipped his paws a few times, got really excited, and BOLTED right out into the water....

 

And just like a good puppy, when he got out, he walked right up to Bryan and shook the water off all over him. Hahaha. :-)


I'm completely exhausted this weekend, physically and mentally. So I believe it's about time for a nap.

Adventures.

This new mid shift thing is killing me. I go to work. I go to sleep. I wake up and go back to work. I'm all mixed up with days and nights and don't know what day it is without looking. I haven't spent time with Bryan all week, except for an hour of trying to cuddle with him before I fall asleep and he takes the dog out.

But on a good note, I do like the mid shift. The flight line is really peaceful at night. The planes are still. The airfield has a pretty glow. And our end of the flight line is surrounded by bullfrogs. I love listening to them at night. They remind me of summer nights at home.

I've been missing home a lot lately.

I miss the corn fields. Lunch in the hay fields. Late afternoon naps on Aunt Emma's front porch swing. Bullfrog lullabies and cool breezes that smell of hydrangeas and lilacs. Real sweet tea. Driving down back roads with the windows down and the radio up and not another soul on the road for miles. Fishing trips that turn into road trips. Friendly hugs from everyone I know. Dinners out just because it's Tuesday and it's raining. Baby cousins running over things with their bikes and Big Wheels....or getting all prettied up in frilly dresses just to dive into the first mud puddle they find. Dad's garage. Mom's cooking. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss always having someone around with a shoulder to lean on, a good laugh to share, and always ready to get into mischief with me.

When I was pregnant with Brake, I wanted to get out of the military and go home. I wanted my baby to grow up with my family and friends. But now that he's gone, the idea of getting out and going home just doesn't feel right. So I try to hold my head up and push on, knowing that he wouldn't want me to give up.

I joined the Navy because I was bored. I wanted an adventure.

My adventures started here. The USS Constitution. This was my first duty station.

Yes, that's a real Navy ship. It doesn't leave the confines of the Boston Harbor, but it does still sail. Quite well, might I add.

My elementary school History teacher was ecstatic about my job there. The history books have a picture of this ship in there. Back during the Barbary Wars and War of 1812, which most people don't remember ever hearing about. His students like to tell him he's old. He likes to tell them that he's so old one of his students actually worked on that ship.

  

I met amazing people there. I did some amazing things there.

Climbing in the rigging is still at the top of my list of favorite things to do. Scary as hell, but oh so fun!

I met Vice President Cheney. His wife was a huge history buff and fan of our ship, so they joined us for a turnaround cruise on July 4.

These guys are from VP-26. I joined them for a week in my first taste of working on P-3s...and my instant love-at-first-sight of Maine.

I had my first pub crawl for my friend's birthday. An amazing night with amazing people. I got in my first bar fight that night, and I was sober. (I can't stand creepy people..especially when they are preying on inebriated girls that are defenseless.) Haha. I just noticed what Steph's shirt says!

That's a horrible, dark picture. But it's taken inside a Cesna that I flew over Cape Cod. I almost pissed myself. It was both incredibly terrifying and absolutely breathakingly amazing.

I went sailing on this ship. The Coast Guard's Bargue Eagle. We sailed from CT to Panama. It was amazing.

That's what the ocean looks like from 100+ feet in the air. See that white spot of canvas at the very tip of that yellow thing? That yellow thing is called a spar. It's what holds the sail canvas. I was standing at that spot, but on the mast behind it, when I took that picture.

That's the sun setting in Colon. In South America. Just outside the Panama Canal. I had this photo enlarged to a 20x60 print and hung it in my living room. It's quite the conversation piece. That was the most amazing sunset I've ever seen, and no photo can ever do it justice.

 

I lauched a hot air balloon in at the Hot Air Balloon Festival in NM. I wanted to ride in one, but it didn't work out that way. This was probably more fun anyway.

That picture was published Navy wide. I've had several of them published from various color guards and events. It's exciting to call home and tell my parents that I made it into print for something. I've also been on tv a handful of times.

That was just at my first station, in my first two years.

There have been plenty more adventures since then, both good and bad.

This is one of my favorites. Bryan has never been around horses, so he gets nervous. I met Bryan when I first moved to Pensacola. I had been divorced for several months, was in a brand new place, didn't have any friends, and my horse had just died. He wanted to cheer me up, so he booked a hotel at the beach in Port St. Joe and we spent the weekend there, riding horses on the beach. This was our first "real" date. :-)

Losing our babies was definitely a bad thing, but learning to live after them is still an adventure all it's own. As painful as the journey is, my babies are also my favorite adventures.

There are plenty more adventures to come. I got what I signed up for, and then some. I'm looking forward to more new adventures. I'm learning to be strong enough to embrace the bad ones.

(Most of these pictures were taken from my hard drive or my photography portfolio. A few of them were public images from the Navy's website. )

Distracted.

It's almost 2 AM. I should be out on the flight line, working on one of those damn broken planes. But tonight, I'm so distracted. I can't concentrate. I can't think of what I'm doing at work. I can't think of anything. Except my son's face.

When I caught Brake in my hands that night, he was still alive. He was kicking and pushing against the intact bag of amniotic fluids. He was distraught. He was struggling.

I was numb. I had no idea what to do. Do I rip it open? Do I leave it alone? Do I hold him closer? What do I do? Obviously, I can't save him, but that doesn't mean I can't try to do something for him.

When his movement started slowing, he stopped pushing. His face calmed, and he pulled his hands up close to his body, like he was praying. He looked peaceful, smiling actually.

But I still didn't know what to do. How do you watch your baby struggle like that? And not be able to think of something, anything to try to make it better?

My dad said that he felt better about his death knowing that he left this world smiling. He said he was smiling because he knows his mommy was taking care of him.

I still can't help but feel like I could have, should have, done something more. More than just sit there looking at him.

10 Things Tuesday.

It's Tuesday again. I'm not enjoying this one as much as the last one. I started mid-shift on Sunday night, and adjusting to the change has been horrible.

Over the weekend I had an allergic reaction to something. No idea what. But it left me with hives all over my body. It started on my belly, spread to my sides and back. The next day it spread up my back and onto my arms. Yesterday, when I finally got to see a doctor, it had spread down my thighs as well. The doctor put me on 3 different meds for it. She said they wouldn't make me drowsy. So I thought it would be safe to take at work last night. By the time 2 AM hit, I felt drunk off my ass and I was spinning in circles on the flight line. Those runway lights aren't so pretty when they're moving like that....

Definitely not taking those tonight.


Since we're on the subject of meds and doctors, this week I'll do 10 fun visits to the doctor.


1. When I was about 13, my dad told us not to climb in the apple trees on our farm. Climbing them is the only way to get the good apples, and it was something we successfully did all the time. Until that day. I was stretching as far as I could and just about had that perfect green apple in my hand....and heard a really slow cracking sound. The entire half of the tree where I was standing came crashing down. Not a fun ride....

2. I left a Jones Soda bottle in my truck one day at work. It was spring, so it wasn't hot yet. When I got in the truck at the end of the day, I picked up the bottle to sit my water in that cup holder. The soda inside started fizzing up and the lid blew off. It sounded like a gun shot. The pressure mangled the lid, which in turn mangled my face. It was cut from the bottom of my jaw all the way up the left side of my face. I still have no idea how that happened....

3. One night I was outside talking on the phone. I heard a low growl and hissing coming from the flowers next to me. I stood up to walk back to the house. I turned too fast in the wet grass. Instead of running away from the possum in the flowers, I fell face and shoulder first into the ground. It dislocated the shoulder so I couldn't even push myself back up.

4. My body has a hard time dealing with the hormones in birth control pills. I stay sick and lose a lot of weight when I take them. My OB finally decided to try that Nuva Ring thing since the hormones are released differently. It was going great for a few days. Then I had an allergic reaction to it. To make it all worse, the ER nurse I had that night was a very young, very attractive male nurse. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed that night.... 

5. When I worked in Boston, our building had a gym next to our shop. The guys in my shop were a bunch of meat heads that liked to work out during lunch. I usually sat in there just for conversation, so they finally talked me into lifting weights with them. We started out really easy, with 2 20 pound weights. My supervisor was supposed to be my spotter. I got really fatigued. He got distracted. I dropped both weights on my face before I could get his attention. Two cuts and some bruises later, I had to explain to my 2nd in command why my eye was bandaged....

6. My now ex-husband and I got married before he was able to move in with me. When he finally made it up there, his first night in our new home, I got up to pee in the middle of the night. I tripped on the middle step of the staircase, rolled the rest of the way to the bottom, and was finally thrown out into the floor. My foot was caught on the metal grate over the air vent in the floor, ripping the bottom half of my big toe back. I was supposed to be in a color guard for a parade that next morning....

7. I was standing watch at the gate of my last duty station. There was a magnetic gate for pedestrians. My hand got stuck in it. I couldn't reach the button to release the magnet. My hand was bleeding. I had to radio for the guy in charge that day to come quickly and bring bandaids. I had to apologize to the people that couldn't get through....

8. I was sent to the ER for a really bad kidney infection. I was directly across from the nurses station. My IV started backing out. I don't know what happened or how it happened, but I had a fountain of blood spraying in one direction and IV fluid spraying in the other. I had to have a new IV and a new gown....

9. I put my seat belt on in the backseat of my mom's Explorer, on our way to my little brother's football practice. There was a Japanese hornet that I didn't see until he fell off the seatbelt into my tank top. Those things don't just sting, they bite. I felt something crawling but didn't think anything about it, so I just tried to brush it out. Then it bit me. And then stung me as I was trying to dig it out. And then latched onto my finger and continued biting. I was frantically flinging my hand around trying to throw it off my finger and Dad finally grabbed my hand and killed it. (With a fork, might I add.) I ended up being stung twice and bit twice, with some awful swelling and fist sized bruising....on my right boob, my right pointer finger, and that space between the two fingers.

10. I pulled a muscle in my back and shoulder when I was still living at home. The nurse at work sent me over to the ER before my shift ended. After the xrays and everything, the ER nurse came in to give me some meds. It was a male nurse. That lived down the street. And was talking about my little brother playing with his kids. While he was giving me a shot in my ass. Awkward, to say the least....



Now, a nap before another long night....

Prayers for Vivian.

Kecia, a girl I know from back home, had a baby girl in April. She was born at only 24 weeks.

Baby Vivian is fighting so hard. My heart breaks for Kecia. I know what it's like to want so badly to hold your baby. But I have no idea how hard it is to have your baby right there in front of you and not be able to hold her.

Her family started a prayer chain on Facebook that they try to update regularly with her progress.

Please keep this beautiful baby, and especially her mother, in your prayers.

Childhood.

 

From left to right, my sister, my friend, and my cousin. This is one of my all time favorite pictures from my childhood. It is also one of the most bittersweet. 

I grew up on the corner of my Papaw's farm in East TN. My cousins grew up on the farm too. We were a lot like siblings, rather than cousins, because we were so close. 

We had wonderful woods and wide open fields to run absolutely free with our even wider imaginations. One day we were Indians. The next day we were astronauts. The next we were rodeo queens. We dreamed of one day riding our horses on the moon. Our life plans were growing up together, having big farms full of horses and cows, and eventually, when we found a guy that could tame us, raising our families together. 

That beautiful little girl in purple turned 19 on July 5, 2006. It was a Wednesday. 

That Wednesday night, my entire world came crashing down when her car hit a tree head on, just a half mile or so from her driveway. On Friday, her parents pulled her off life support and donated her organs. On Sunday, we buried one of the biggest and brightest parts of my childhood. We buried those dreams that will now never come true. 

It's been almost 5 years. There are still days that choke me up, especially when I smell certain things or hear certain songs. But most days are peaceful now, even happy, when I think of her.

When I was pregnant with Lilly, I had a dream where I saw my cousin riding some small children around on her ponies. They had hands full of flowers (probably stolen from the neighbor's garden, knowing her haha), and they were so pretty and so happy. She looked up from the pony and stared into my face, telling me that she was taking care of my baby until she was ready for me. It was so amazing and felt so peaceful....until my baby died a week later. 

My mom later told me that she thought it meant she was taking care of my baby in Heaven. I didn't like that idea at first, but eventually I warmed up to the idea. 

When I was pregnant with Brake, I had a dream that I was outside with a group of my family. I was showing off my belly and enjoying the company of so many that I don't see very often. My cousin was there. She was smiling and hugging me. She touched my belly, and it immediately became see-through. I could see my baby, looking up and smiling at me. It was so amazing....but then a week or two later my baby died. Again. His face was exactly the same as in the dream. He looks like me.

I thought about the dreams for several nights after the nurse carried my son away. I thought about how accurate my son's face had been. About how the ponies were the same ponies from my childhood. About how the flowers were always the same flowers we picked for our moms. About how much those dreams reminded me of that picture up there. Of my childhood. 

Last night I dreamed about my cousin and my babies again. They were both there with her. Smiling and happy and beautiful. Riding ponies in the giant fields of wildflowers, just like we had done when we were young. It felt peaceful. It made me smile.

I put this sticker on my back window a few weeks ago. I see it in the rear view mirror in the mornings on my drive to work. It stings at first, but it reminds me to keep my head up. This morning, as I stared at the tiny little toes, I remembered that dream. It was the first dream I've ever had about both of them together. I ached to see them and hold them again.

When I looked back from the sticker, I saw these little guys land on the fence in front of my truck. One was slightly bigger than the other, but otherwise they were almost identical. And they sat there. Looking at me. Occasionally shuffling their wings. Occasionally looking at each other. Then looking at me again. They stayed there for an entire 5 minutes, watching me. I thought about the dream again, and my two babies together, and I felt this immensely peaceful feeling rush over me.

I hope they're enjoying their "childhood" as much as I enjoyed mine....

Silence.

When I see pregnant women or new babies, my heart hurts, but not as bad as one might think. I ache to hold my babies again, but I hold myself together rather well.

When I see cute baby things or someone's new baby pictures, my heart hurts. I feel happiness for the parents of the baby, but I ache so badly to hold my own smiling baby for pictures.


Yesterday's doctor visit broke me.


The wall behind the receptionist is covered in birth announcements. They usually don't bother me. There were new ones up. I couldn't stop looking at them. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

Every piece of reading material in that place is a magazine about being pregnant or caring for a baby. Everything. I couldn't even get a brochure about breast cancer or Pap smears to distract me for a few minutes. I think my lip might have had a hole in it by this point.

The nurses recognize me and talk to me on a first name basis. Even those I have never met. They only know me from all the others because my baby died. It makes me happy that they remember. It breaks my heart that my dead baby is the reason.

Even with all of that, I was still holding myself together really well, except for that really sore lip.

Then I went to the lab.

The guy sitting next to me was playing with his baby, who was only about 3 months old. As long as I didn't look up or make eye contact, I was fine. I could drown it out. Until the baby went back for bloodwork and started screaming.

For the first time, I realized that I never heard my babies cry. I'd never thought about it before. And with that baby screaming, it was ALL I could think about. Both of my babies were alive when they came out. Both of my babies lived for about 10 minutes. Neither of them were able to make a sound.

I broke down. I couldn't fight it any longer.

Their silence haunts me now. I would give anything to hear their voices, even if it meant reliving those nightmares all over again.

The C word.

I had a follow up appointment with the OB today. He's been trying to find why I keep losing my babies. I don't have a problem making them, just carrying them full term. He thought it was a structure problem, but last week's tests ruled that out. Genetic problems were also ruled out.

Today he realized that a lot of hormonal bloodwork was either missing from my record or never done at all. He said it looks like hormones are the most likely culprit, since it was well into the 2nd semester, and everything else tests good. Bloodwork was ordered. Results next week.

Doc also wants to do biopsies of cancer cells found on my cervix. He doesn't think that would have been a factor in losing the baby last month, but it definitely still has to be checked out and treated.


I'm terrified.


I'm not ready to throw something else into this nightmare.

10 Things Tuesday.

I like lists. I also like Tuesdays.

I'm not sure why I like lists. Sometimes I will even write a to-do list of things and include something I've already completed, just for the satisfaction of crossing it off the list. Does that make me weird? haha

I will probably start posting a list every Tuesday....if I remember.


Since I like lists and Tuesdays, let's make this week's list about 10 things I like.

1. Horses. Big ones. Little ones. Fat ones. Ugly ones. It doesn't matter. I love them. 

2. I love kayaking. Unless there are gators. Like the ones at Mobile Bay, where this photo was taken. That entire day kayak trip turned into a 25 minute waste of $90.

3. Old paintings. Like this one from around the 1940s that I found at a yard sale for $20. On a cool side note, that ship is still "active" and I was stationed on it when I found the painting. Our museum staff had a copy of the painting too, but they paid a couple hundred for theirs.

4. Get Fuzzy. This is my absolute most favorite comic strip in the universe. If my cat and dog could talk, they would sound just like these guys. haha

 

5. Fish. And fish tanks. In this picture, my then-husband didn't want to get fish after I got so excited about getting the water set up correctly in the tank. So I made these guys and they stayed there until I got my real fish. (Which was about 4 days. I finally won when I named each of them.)

 

6. Live music. Of almost any kind. Especially when the people are as fun as this guy.

 

7. Taking pictures of random beach findings. It's a new treasure adventure every time. But then again, I just like taking pictures in general. 

8. Flowers. Trees. Grass. If it's green or colorful and grows and smells pretty, I like it. All of it. Lilies and gardenias are my favorites though. 

9. Traveling. Especially road trips. Especially with my dad. That guy is sooo funny. On our trip to WA, I taught him how to use my digital camera. (He was afraid of it because he says it's fancy. haha) When he realized he could take all the pictures he wanted, he was like a kid in a candy store.

10. Books. Especially history books, if you can't tell. The best thing I ever learned to do was read.

What are some things that you like?