18 U.S.C. 1702 - Obstruction of correspondence

"Tell your husband to keep coming up with things for you to write about," the man in front of me in line at our tiny hometown Dollar General said, as he grabbed his receipt and headed for the door. 

"Oh, it's not a problem," I told him. "I thought Cody was to be in northern California for five days, but today I got a snapchat of a sign that read, Welcome to Reno! I'm not sure what state he's in, but I know it's a different time zone."

The man laughed as he put the receipt in his pocket and headed for his truck. He probably thought I was joking. 

When I got to my car I searched for Reno on the map; it's not far from northern California. I've been there twice, you'd think I'd know this. The guy likely thought I was wacky and strung out on mashed peas and barn fly spray. Stranger things have happened.

I drove home from daycare thinking about the man's comment and why I haven't sat down to write in three weeks. 

I'd like to file a claim:

18 U.S.C. 1702 - Obstruction of correspondence
As follows:

One day Caroline brought me a finger nail - that didn't belong to a human (so is that a claw??) from under the clothes line. I blacked out for three hours. 

One evening I spent my time researching ways to soften toddler stools. The next evening I picked pears, tomatoes and apples from our yard and garden. The next evening was spent researching poisonous insects and invisible funguses that might live on pears, tomatoes and apples from our yard and garden. 

One evening was spent opening and closing the door that shuts off our stairway to the second floor.  Each time I did it, I caught a strange whiff of something that made me uneasy. Thirty-seven swings into the investigation, I realized it smelled like the AXE body spray the guy that remodeled our upstairs (four years ago) wore during that time. It made me wonder if he insulated our upstairs with AXE rather than actual insulation...?

One morning - before 6:00 AM - was spent scrolling through 497 birthday greetings on Facebook. If you want to begin a week well, begin it this way. 

One evening was spent reading through the agenda for the ladies' retreat I'm about to embark upon. The following hour was spent googling and shopping for "what ladies wear to go kayaking".  Then paying $18 extra to have it here by Saturday. 

Four evenings/afternoons were spent baking peach pies for a cookout, a birthday party or an ill neighbor. I estimate I only consumed 3/4 lb. raw dough during this time. 

One evening was spent sending Cody photos of this frog trapped in our living room window while he sent me photos of this:

Doesn't seem fair, does it? 

I could touch my subject while sitting in our living room. 

And he couldn't. 

The obstruction of correspondence in the last three weeks has little (or nothing) to do with breaking into mailboxes or bribing a postal carrier. I guess if I had time to put in that kind of effort, I would have written every day for the last three weeks. Instead, my obstruction of correspondence has more to do with navigating a season of life where there is very little sitting down and composing my thoughts, but rather living day-by-day (or hour-by-hour?) off a to-do list that requires attention and action. And lots of oatmeal kisses. 

At what age do we quit feeling like we're operating in survival mode? 

I hope you responded with "33". 

Check The Vitals

With my $50 guitar in hand, I was just seconds from taking the stage at The Bluebird Cafe.

Finally.

“Lindsay!” The urgency in Cody’s voice woke me in an instant.

A really poorly timed instant.

It was dark in our room. I opened my eyes wide but didn’t even look at the clock.

"Yeah?" I responded.

“K,” was all he whispered, rolling back over on his side.

I drifted back to sleep but The Bluebird didn’t wait for me.

And to think: We would have paid off the farm in an instant if I could have just sung one rendition of Strawberry Wine. I have, after all, been practicing for twenty years (take a moment to let that sink in).

Sleep came easy and it seemed like just seconds before he pulled the stunt again.

“Lindsay!” The urgency in Cody’s voice woke me in an instant.

It was dark in our room. I opened my eyes wide but didn’t even look at the clock.

“Yeah?” I responded.

“K,” was all he whispered, rolling back over on his side.

I’ve been told I’ve become a mouth breather in the last couple weeks. Not a snorer, but rather a mouth breather "louder than a 454 big block"- what ever that means.  And while I’m annoyed and in denial just hearing of this development, I have to trust my sources. Apparently Cody woke up twice last night and didn’t hear me breathing, so he decided to startle me awake to check my vitals. There are easier ways to do things (I suggested gently checking my pulse, holding his hand an inch over my mouth to feel for breath, lying in the quiet dark for five seconds and listening, etc.), but everyone seems to do what they think is right in certain situations, I guess.

While it was a shoddy night of rest, I’m grateful for a husband who doesn’t want to sleep next to a dead person.

This middle-of-the-night fiasco reminded me of someone I haven’t checked on in a while.

Someone who – I’ll admit – doesn’t enter my mind often, but when they do I feel a bit of a sting. They are a shining example of how I let time and distance drive a wedge in communication and I’ve frankly lost touch with them.

I don’t call to check on them. 

I don’t shoot them a text or an email. 

If memory serves me right (45% chance these days) I sent them a hand written note last summer because I felt the lack-of-communication sting, and that was the last of our correspondence.

No hard feelings, no fall out.

But rather, worse: No effort at all.

Which is a shame; they were a good lesson and good person in my life.

An old co-worker.

An industry mentor.

An aging grandparent.

A previous neighbor.

The one who takes you back to that tumultuous time in your life.

An old business partner.
That once-stranger on your old morning commute to the city. 

A teacher, maybe not even the kind who stood at the front of the class. 

A college roommate.

An acquaintance that changed things.

Your parent.

There is someone who could use a vitals check from you.

A hello.

A “I was just thinking of you…”

A sign that they're thought of every so often.

Do you have that person in mind?

Find them.

Write them.

Call them.

Email them.

Text them.

Do something to let them know they’re still significant enough to cross a mind now and then.

Your mind. 

But might I suggest waiting until daylight until you do your vitals check? 
Waiting until everyone is awake and aware of their surroundings just makes for a better morning, for everyone. 

Black Mistress

In the beginning - even before we wed - I picked up on his subtle signs.

Anxiousness when she was around. 
Mentioning her in random conversations. I used to hear him reference her and think, "How does she have anything to do with this conversation?"
Not being able to keep his eyes off her when they were in the same room. 

I brushed it off, thinking - the further we got into our relationship - she would just go away. 
I'll admit: I was one of those gals who thought getting married would change things. 

But things haven't changed since August 10, 2013. In fact, I wonder if they've not gotten worse. 
Every so often she still comes back to visit. 
She is incredibly enlightening. 
Always attractive and so put together - even after traveling hundreds of miles. 
She has a social life we - Cody and I - can only dream of. Is there any event she's not invited to?
She meets every expectation. And Oh So Well. 

But I've come to terms with it: the Angus Journal is the full package. 
And every month I have to compete with her for Cody's attention. 

1. He anxiously awaits their next encounter. 
Did you get the mail?
Anything good in today's mail?
Did you get the mail today?
Have you gotten the mail?
No, cray cray. I have not and will not get the mail on days that I anticipate that 390 page mistress with a gorgeous face waiting for me across the road. 
Angus Journal arrival days are like tiny Christmas mornings at our place. For he, not I. 
Just substitute wrapping paper with plastic shrink wrap and we're smack dab in the morning of December 25th. 

2. It consumes his attention. 
When the Angus Journal arrives, nothing else in the house matters. I could be on fire, tap dancing in the kitchen with a band of donkeys and I'm certain Cody would not hear me. 

Or, us. 

3. It opens up a whole new exciting, dangerous world to him.
The Angus Journal is kinda like some hot chick a college kid meets on a study abroad trip.
A world past beautiful Economy, Indiana or Council Grove, Kansas. 
Bold opinions. 
Industry insight.
Gorgeous photos. 
Intriguing stories. 
Outstanding pedigrees. 
Excitement and blaze and lust. 
Advertisements with photos and EPD's of cattle he suddenly must have. 

Silence is powerful. 

Ya'll see the backtracking in that message?

Guess who bought another cow with a "tiny" bid? 

Us. 

Actually, he (we) made an awesome investment. 

4. He adores her, despite her faults. 
Some months she is 150 pages, other months she is 390 pages.
He doesn't care. He still gives her the same attention and adoration. 
It's exhausting. And disgusting. 

5. She makes his passion come alive. 
I know no one else more dedicated to the success and longevity of the Angus breed than Cody. 
He studies it. 
Breathes it.
Adores it.
Lives it. 
Loses track of time because of it.
Surrounds himself with it: We have Angus luggage tags, wine glasses, blankets and trashcans, for goodness sake. 
When CS sits down to sort through the Angus Journal, I know that his heart and mind are exactly where they should be: progress and passion. Our future. 

And that's exactly why I try to avoid catching fire and tap dancing with donkeys in the kitchen while he's with his mistress. 

I continue to dust around those darn (my mother-in-law reads this blog) Angus Journals and have never once used them for kindling. Though I've been tempted terribly, bless their glossy covers. 
That beautiful, smart, attention-getter is now a part of our home and our marriage. 

However, if she starts showing up with big hair wearing square toes, 

 knowing how to make a mean Mexi meal, 

we're gonna have a come to Jesus.

Wait. Did you really think this post was going to be about Scandal?

Is There Life Out There

It seems like five years ago, and yesterday at the same time, that I traveled back to Purdue University to navigate my late-twenties-something self through the Executive Agribusiness Program with Land O'Lakes. Tomorrow morning at 8:30 I'll present my thesis in front of my classmates, Purdue faculty, CEOs from across the United States and the Land O'Lakes senior leadership team. And then I'll graduate. 

Me? 
Nervous?
...I'm as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof. 

But my boss left me with words of encouragement Monday: No matter how bad you screw this up, you probably won't lose your job. 

Thanks, Boss. 

Until this course work, I hadn't thought much about a certain song. Not since my confident, third grade self stood in front of the entire elementary school and sang it in the variety show. I was young and I didn't fully understand the message. But twenty years later, this entire process of going back to school and learning to study and apply concepts again has taken me back to Reba's Is There Life Out There. 

By marking things off my life's to-do list prior to getting married just days before age 29, I've avoided the is there life out there? question. But I can still soundly relate to the idea of stress and work/life balance that comes along with curriculum and home. 

Granted, we have no children to read bedtime stories, as seen in the music video. We do, however, have quite a few cows that get cranky when you postpone feeding due to an online homework submission deadline looming ahead. 

And, if Cody would have spilled something on my thesis (as seen in the music video), I (probably) would not have lost my head and made him use a hair dryer to salvage the report. I would have simply printed another copy. Times have changed. 

But the idea of surrendering some things to achieve others has not.I've stretched myself, my resources and my time to get to where I'll be Thursday morning. All for accomplishing a goal of greater education. I've also become a shareholder in post it notes and highlighters. 

How about you?

What sacrifices - small or large - are you making right now to put yourself, your future or your family, in the right direction? 

Or perhaps you're on the other end of the song? The beginning of it. Maybe you're the one who yearns for something greater than what you have now. Maybe you're wondering: Is there life out there? So much you haven't done?

Where ever you stand, remember these three things:

1. If it's still in your mind, it's worth taking the risk. 
2. If I can learn to study again, you can pretty much do anything in the entire world. Ever. 
3. Your hair will never look as cray cray as Reba's did in this video. Bless her heart. 

I'm going to get back to rehearsing my thesis presentation in my hotel room while you will hopefully watch the music video to Is There Life Out There, below. I still cry like a baby when I see her in that cap and gown. 

But if you don't watch the video, can you do one thing? 
Wish me luck! 

YouTube

She married when she was twenty

She thought she was ready

Now she's not so sure

She thought she'd done some living

But now she's just wonderin'

What she's living for

Now she's feeling that there's something more

Is there life out there

So much she hasn't done

Is there life beyond

Her family and her home

She's done what she should

Should she do what she dares

She doesn't want to leave

She's just wonderin

Is there life out there

She's always lived for tomorrow

She's never learned how

To live for today

She's dyin' to try something foolish

Do something crazy

Or just get away

Something for herself for a change

Is there life out there

So much she hasn't done

Is there life beyond

Her family and her home

She's done what she should

Should she do what she dares

She doesn't want to leave

She's just wonderin

Is there life out there

There's a place in the sun that she's never been

Where life is fair and time is a friend

Would she do it the same as she did back then

She looks out the window and wonders again

Is there life out there

So much she hasn't done

Is there life beyond

Her family and her home

She's done what she should

Should she do what she dares

She doesn't want to leave

She's just wonderin

Is there life out there

Is there life out there

So much she hasn't done

Is there life beyond

Her family and her home

She's done what she should

Should she do what she dares

She doesn't want to leave

She's just wonderin

Is there life out there

But What If I Don't?

Oh my gosh...I should go!
But why?
I shouldn't. 
But I can!
But why would I?
There is no time. 
But I'm so close. 
But why would I?
What would I say?
I'd be setting myself up for disappointment. 
Maybe even disaster. 

But what if I don't?

This was the internal conversation I had with myself several times last week. You see, I didn't write because I was at a communication conference (I know, the irony); the National Agri-Marketing Association annual conference, to be specific. 

As I took the stairs (and by stairs I mean elevator) to the 16th floor where my room for the week sat, I couldn't help but take in the Kansas City view. 

...And maybe sing Kansas City Lights in my head. 

Something caught my eye as a scanned the buildings, lights and old signs that dotted the historic stock town skyline. Only two blocks away, on the side of a building was a recognizable brand, and one of which I've been a card-carrying member since I got my license and could drive myself to the local Wooden Key. 

Wait. WHAT?! 

I'm this close to the Hallmark world headquarters? 

How did I miss that when I planned my week?

I went to my room and opened my laptop. Before my mind plotted anymore, I needed to confirm that this was fact and not fantasy. 

It was fact. 

Meetings. 
Engaging.
Socializing. 
Networking. 
All things NAMA continued throughout the week and each time I went to my room, or a breakout session didn't hold my attention, my mind drifted to the thought that I was just two blocks from the institution that held my "dream job" - writing for Hallmark. 

The familiar tug-o-war conversation clouded my thoughts each time. 

Oh my gosh...I should go!
But why?
I shouldn't. 
But I can!
But why would I?
There is no time. 
But I'm so close. 
But why would I?
What would I say?
I'd be setting myself up for disappointment. 
Maybe even disaster. 

But what if I don't?

I went back through the conference's jammed schedule and found one hour between sessions when I could sneak out and go to the Hallmark headquarters. 
To introduce myself. 
Give them a business card. 
Or two. 
Maybe tell a joke. 
At 3:00 I visited with a few industry colleagues and let them know I'd catch up with them closer to 4:00. I had an errand to run. I took the Heel-Toe Express out of the hotel and down the Kansas City sidewalks. 

This is not me. 

You and I both know I have my mother's cankles. 

Before I knew it, though maybe a bit further than the estimated two blocks, I was much closer to the beloved brand I'd seen in the sky days before. 

           

I walked the long corridor to an entrance that appeared to be official. You know, because I'm a very formal person. Truly, if I wasn't there on business I would have likely pecked on the first floor windows until noticed. 

A security guard, proudly still serving at the approximate age of 114, greeted me as soon as I entered the foyer. 

"Can I help you?" the guard asked. 

"Yes, this.....is a strange request. But for twenty years I've had the dream of writing for Hallmark. I'm in Kansas City this week on business and I saw your headquarters were so close. I just....Can I speak to someone in your Creative department?"

"The name of the person you'd like to speak with?"

"Oh, well, I don't have a specific name...." I was losing steam with gramps. 

Blank stare. I'm not sure he wasn't blind. 

"I have business cards....for my blog! Can I give you these and you see that they make it to someone in the Creative writing department?"

"I can't do that," he softly said, calmly crushing my dreams. 

"You can't do that? They are just business cards. Just so someone can find my blog. Nothing dangerous. No white powder......," I continued. Anthrax was not what I imagined my joke would be about, but in this point of the charade I was running out of ideas. 

"I cannot do that," he sternly replied.

Guess he was serious. I wondered briefly if I was something like the 187th street-wanderer he'd dealt with today?

"Here. Here is the internet code (it was a website: http://corporate.hallmark.com/company/hallmark-jobs) to find a job. That is all I can do. Go to the museum. If you haven't been there," he finished. 

I don't want to go to the museum. I don't even want a full time job!  I actually love my job! I just want someone to read Jean's Boots. My thoughts stayed internal. 

"Where is the museum?" I asked, deflated. 

"You passed it walking in. Just at the other end of the corridor."

I thanked him and left, putting my cards back in my shoulder bag. Dang it. 

I took the Heel-Toe Express back down the echoing corridor and entered the museum and gave it one last shot. 

The gal behind the desk to me to go across the corridor and speak with the security guard. I reveled that he had sent me her way, and she was just as confused as I. She reached in a drawer and gave me the exact same piece of paper with the Careers link on it. 

The communications geek in me was glad that they were at least consistent in the their message. 

I quickly walked through the amazing Hallmark Visitor's Center and tried to digest as quickly as possible all the history and heirlooms meticulously displayed in one place. 

Norma Rockwell's Kansas City Spirit

Even a Hereford made it into the history. 

My visit to Hallmark was brief and unsuccessful. A lot like I envisioned the "disaster" in my pre-planning thoughts, in fact. I didn't get "inside", I didn't get a free-lance gig and I didn't get my blog business cards to Hallmark Creative. 

But I did learn a lesson. 

Home almost a week now I've thought of that strange experience and wondered what got me to charge over there with such expectation and slight confidence? 

That question is easy to answer with another:

But what if I don't?

I knew that if I left Kansas City, within blocks of Hallmark, and never tried to promote my passion, I would have wondered for the rest of my life what might have been. The easy part happened: I got shot down. The hardest part would have been to wonder what if for the rest of my life. 

So what if you did the same?

What if you downsized...everything?

What if you told her how you really felt?

What if you asked for forgiveness? And, what if you extended it?

What if you moved home?

What if you went to the meeting?

What if you started taking care of yourself, now?

What if you apologized?

What if you stood up for yourself?

What if you wrote the letter?

What if you left the well paying job for one that made you happy?

What if you were made uncomfortable, for once?

What if you made the phone call?

What if you registered for the course?

What if you admitted to it?

What if you didn't care what they thought?

What if you actually pushed yourself?

What if you told someone?

What if you did it? That one thing.

But what if you don't?

Let my story of two business cards still on my kitchen table be a lesson. Your greatest pain in life could lie in wondering what might have happened had you compiled the courage. Don't let that happen. 

But don't just listen to me. Take it from this guy:

Side note: Anyone know anybody who works for Hallmark?

Faster Than The Egg Nog

The last blog post of 2014. 
Where does the time go?
Down the drain faster than the egg nog. 

I called Cody, just after hitting the road for work:
Me: YUCK! I'm going to PUKE! I just took the last of the milk for breakfast and I took a big gulp of it as I pulled onto the highway - IT WAS SOUR! And I couldn't spit it out because I was on the highway. BLAH! I need a toothbrush!
Him: It's funny you called. I saw that you took the last of the milk so I just chugged some egg nog on my way out the door. Definitely bad. DEFINITELY. BAD.

I laughed - and gagged - all the way to the office. 

That sums up 2014 for us. Week days drag on, then all of the sudden sour milk makes you realize just how quickly time moves: Faster than the egg nog. 

I'm generally not one for annual resolutions because...well, they're a part of my life only until March. But in 2015 I feel compelled to share a few big things I'd like to accomplish, ongoing throughout the year.

1. Take Care

I'm committing to taking better care of myself. Not only does this include eating better, it also entails flossing and not popping my knuckles. Also, exercising if there is time. Baby steps. 

I'm committing to taking better care of this house. I mopped with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser this week and was so embarrassed by the dirt found on the sponge by the end of the task that I removed the eraser and wrapped it in a plastic bag then disposed of it, as if to hide evidence. It was as though I was disposing of a smoking gun. Momma would have been mortified. 

I'm committing to taking better care of my husband. No husband should be left to suffer through a breakfast of sour egg nog. I could have at least offered him some of that Dollar General Wonder Bread he kindly provided me................

2. Find Beauty

My friend Laramie (remember the gal who - for once in her life - was on time and it saved her life?) is my best example of finding beauty in every day. I don't know how much time in a day she spends taking photos, but if I had to guess  I'd say it may account for a second job. But she's damn good at it, and I'm grateful. Sunrise to sunset: She has a great eye and a trigger finger. Her ability to see things reminds me to open my own eyes. 

Photo by Laramie Smith 

How does she do that?

In 2015 I'm committing to finding beauty in the strange world around me. Everyday: To finding, studying and appreciating the beauty. 

As practice, I took these two shots as I wrapped up my evening:

I call the left one "Toothpaste on Faucet" and the right one "Dirty Dishes"

Move over, Laramie. 

There's a new Beauty Finder in town. 

Kind of. 

3. Communicate

In 2015, I commit to writing again. 
Not for work (though I will because my livelihood depends on it). 
Not for this blog (though I will because my sanity depends on it). 
But for the sake of connecting. Or, reconnecting. 

And to keep my handwriting in tact. I wrote a check two weeks ago and could barely decipher my own script. 
I'd hate for someone to try to cash my check for "Two Hungry and Fifty Six Daubers". 

58 Daubers are just too many. 

In My Life, B.C. (Before Cody) I wrote one letter a week to friends or family across the country without second thought. With an ink pen. The kind with no backspace. 
It was natural. 
It was easy. 
It was fun. 
I had time. 
I did laundry occasionally because I had four closets and no one questioned it. 
I didn't have a husband...or cows. 
But now I have grand responsibility and even bigger love. 

In 2015 I commit to starting again, to writing one hand-written note a week. The kind of letter - that - three decades from us will find in a shoebox tied with string. And they'd read in it in awe, trying to match my handwriting with a font. And they'll wonder what a New Years Resolution was. 

My Goals for 2015 Summarized 

(see, you could have skipped to the bottom and saved some time)

1. Take Care

What have you neglected?

2. Find Beauty

What have you overlooked?

3. Communicate

What words do you need to speak?

I hope that when I awake from the holiday haze in February I've stuck to my written words. I wish the same for September, when I'll wonder where the summer went. And next December, when I sit down to reflect again, I hope you can hold me accountable by thinking to yourself: I saw one of her letters. 

Or, you could think: She definitely looked 

thinner when I saw her in June. 

Whatever comes to your mind first.