What the heck does "healthy" even mean?

Recent events have led me to reevaluate every portion of my life. Before all of this happened, I was ready to move to Stillwater, start life as a grad student/aspiring writer, and get in the best shape of my life. Now that it's seeming like Tucker's going to make it through this, I have to piece my life together as best I can, and make sure I'm living a good life that can lead myself and others to mental and physical health.

I went on my first diet at the end of my sophomore year in high school. I'd always been a little thick and more muscled than other girls my age, but when I stepped on the scale and saw that I weighed 181, I knew I wanted to lose weight.

Sophomore prom, right around 180 lbs.

I "successfully" lost weight and dropped down to a "healthier" weight of 161 at the lowest.
I looked thin, but I was obsessed about what I could or couldn't eat and spent the majority of my day thinking about what I would eat next.

Right around 165, after volleyball camp, before junior year.

I'd finally started to find some balance between my diet and fitness when I tore my ACL.

The brace did make for a good prop though.

I don't handle injuries well. By the end of the ordeal, I packed on all the weight I had lost and more. By the time my doctor cleared me for regular physical activity, I weighed 192 pounds.

Senior homecoming, right around 190lbs.

I didn't weigh myself over that six months, so I don't know whether that was my heaviest or not. I had a dream of competing in state weightlifting (since I'd broken 3 out of the 4 school records in the 165 weight class my junior year). So, I started dieting again. I did a little better about maintaining a healthy outlook, by eating healthy and just going for a 3 mile walk every evening. Six months later, I weighed 164 pounds and placed third at state weightlifting.

Here I am doing my absolute least favorite thing... in public. I weighed about 168 lbs here.

After that, I went to college and hovered around 175. I didn't diet hard, but I tried to work out at least a few times a week. It seemed like that was a healthy weight for my body.

My first/last/only picture with Willie. I weighed about 175.

Fast forward a year and a half and I returned from study abroad, sitting at 185 pounds.

It doesn't help when you have someone as handsome as Ty as your posing partner! (Weight is about 185.)

Also, the giant ice cream cones didn't help. #IIFYM

I started getting nervous, made resolutions with Ty to work out and get strong and healthy, so we signed up for a Crossfit membership.

I stayed around the same weight for my two months of Crossfit, but I got so much stronger. This is me around 184-188 lbs.

I loved Crossfit. It combined weightlifting, which I loved, and the competitive nature of high school sports, which I missed. Unfortunately, two months in, I sustained a back injury, which was only successfully diagnosed two months ago. A bulging disc. My back hurts almost all the time and it's taken all of my willpower to keep working out. I gained another ten pounds and now I'm sitting around 194--my heaviest weight ever.

I've gotta say... it's a pretty good looking 194 lbs. :)

I know I need to make some changes in order to be healthy. I realized one of the most important things in my life is to be able to do a cartwheel. (I know it sounds weird, but I explain it here.) So I'm trying to think about what healthy is to me. I'm trying to think about what I need to do to live well, so I'm making a list.

1. Start each day by sharing a cup of coffee with Jesus. Sure, I pray every night before bed and I send God a few prayers throughout the day, but I want to make scheduled dates with him other than on Sundays. I want to go to daily mass at least one day a week, and the other days of the week spend fifteen minutes in the morning getting to know Him better.
2. Let people know they are loved. After this whole deal, I've thought back to all my interactions with Tucker. It all boils down to one thought: Did he know how much I love him? Now the answer is "I think so" but in the future, if I'm ever wondering that question, I want it to be a resounding "yes." So every day, I will try to do something so someone in my life knows that someone cares about them.
   
3. Continue writing. Writing is a therapy and a passion for me. Writing time is not wasted time, so I want to know that I'm spending a couple of hours every other day doing something that makes me happy.
4. Exercise 3-4 times a week. Exercise benefits people in so many ways, and I need to invest in myself. My body is a temple, and I need to care for it as such.
   
5. Recreate my relationship with food. I hate depriving myself of anything. I need to treat "depriving" myself more like caring for myself so I can sustain whatever weight loss I have from living this healthier lifestyle.
   
6. Less Facebook, more face time. Facebook has been a way for me to feed my social anxiety and avoid meeting with people face to face. That's gotta change. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, social contact with other human beings is incredibly important for happiness. In a new place it will be especially hard, but one of my favorite phrases is "life begins outside of your comfort zone." Well, life is in session.
7. Don't let school consume my life. As an undergrad, I was obsessed with building my resume. I had a 4.0, community involvement, leadership skills, and no life. This time around, I'm going to ease off of resume building, and focus on life building.

There are a few general things I want to keep in mind: having a loving heart, being slow to anger (I really need to work on that one), being patient, actively seeking out new adventures, keeping a grateful attitude, and fully recovering from my back injury.

So, great, I have these seven steps and moral goals, and sure, seven is a lucky number, but how is that supposed to affect my life? Well, I'm still myself, and that means that I'm going to write every single one of these things into my planner and check them off of my to-do list each day. In my perfect day I would be able to do all seven of those things, but I can't. There's not enough time and I don't want to burn out.

I'm going to have some of the items be every day things, and some every other day to work on keeping balance. I'll shop and meal prep once a week so I can make sure I'm giving myself healthy options. The additional benefit is that since I'm living on a grad student stipend, I'll need to pinch pennies wherever I can and meal prep will help. For exercise, I'll attend the group classes that the Oklahoma State University rec center offers to keep working out fun and interesting, and that can double as some face time.

This is my tentative fitness schedule. I'm planning to have a big poster in my home so I can check off items as I complete them, and so I can see how consistent I'm being with my goals.

A few weeks ago (I can't believe it's been that long) when Mom and I were talking with her personal trainer, he told us that it takes a year to make a fitness habit. After a year, it's a part of your life, and you're more likely to stick with it. 

Planning is going to be key. I'll stick with this loose layout for a month, and then once the month is over, I'll reevaluate my goals and how well the system is working. A month is long enough to get settled into the habit, and also long enough to decide what I need to tweak to make it better. 

It seems like everyone's trying to get healthy. There are so many posts all over social media of photo-shopped women with six-pack abs, and augmented breasts, and it's hard to realize that that's not really realistic and it's not always healthy, and most of them have dedicated their entire lives to diet and exercise for years.

There are so many opinions about healthy living, and so much of it is absolute crap. So many people say you have to eat organic to be healthy. Research has proven that organic food isn't any healthier than conventionally raised food. They warn against BST (bovine growth hormone in dairy cattle that increases milk production) which our body processes as a protein and doesn't harm us at all. They warn against GMOs. The protein they engineer into corn comes from a bacteria that organic growers spray on their plants as a natural pesticide. Even the WHO claimed red meat is a carcinogen, without considering other dietary factors. (For example, a lot of red meat is grilled, and the char on the meat is a carcinogen.) The truth is, we know more about how to create a healthy, balanced diet for pigs than people. 

Crazy, we know.

The best thing we can do is eat foods in a good balance (protein, carbs, and fats), stay active, and stay mentally healthy. Learning about myself and what works has been a lifelong system of trial and error, so hopefully this is getting me on a better track.

Update on Tucker #2

Today was a better day. For first time in several days, he got a good night of sleep, and the nurses were able to stay on top of his pain. It's been a constant struggle to find a medication schedule that keeps him from being in excruciating pain.

This afternoon he was joking with us, talking with us like he would pre-injury, and flirting with his CNA. He introduced her to us as the "love of his life." I'm not going to lie, she's a really special girl with a heart of gold.

Flirting highlight of the night?

Tucker: Is your boyfriend bigger than me?
CNA: Yeah. He's about your height, but he's a little bigger.
Tucker: Oh shit.
Pause
Tucker: He wouldn't hit an injured guy would he?

People keep telling us to write down some of the stuff he's saying, but honestly, Tucker's pretty funny even when he's not on a myriad of pain medications.

People are talking to my parents about the future for Tucker. He has a long road before him. As far as permanent damage, we probably won't know until we're on the other side of this. But, one concern is that he might lose his eyesight. If everyone could say a prayer for his eyesight to recover, that would be a huge help.

Soon, they expect to transfer him to a rehabilitation center in Denver for traumatic brain injuries. There he'll undergo occupational therapy, physical therapy, and some other therapies I can't remember, for eight hours a day Monday through Friday. Getting well is definitely a full time job.

God's already worked so many miracles with Tucker. Here's to hoping that Tucker will continue healing mentally and physically.

When was the last time you did a cartwheel? - A letter to me

Sometimes the brevity of life slaps you in the face. Something happens and all of a sudden the little box you were living in is turned upside down, leaving you and all the other contents of your neatly-packed life tumbling through the darkness.

As you're falling, you think about your life. Always, always, always the things you were working towards so fervently take up residence at the bottom of the priority list, and the things you were neglecting, become all you can see.

You think about the people you've loved but neglected, the vacations you never had enough time for, the letters you never wrote, the wrongs you've never apologized for, and every single thing you would do to make that special someone feel all the love you hold in your heart.

You think about when life became a to-do list instead of a quest of discovery and the expression of art, love, and adventure.

When did you outgrow the best parts in your life? Have you forgotten the rush of accomplishment after doing a cartwheel? Do you remember eating raw cookie dough and not worrying about getting a disease? Do you miss falling asleep on the couch to a good movie just because you didn't want to get up and go to bed? How about the warmth you get when you hug your grandma? Or the pleasure of letting sand grind between your toes, and not having to worry about it making a mess in the car on the way home? When's the last time you danced to music without wondering what people would think of you? When did you stop putting on beautiful dresses, just to parade around the house? How could you stop going outside to lay on the trampoline and look up at the stars, no matter how cold it got?

When you start taking yourself a little too seriously, or life gets a little to hard, ask yourself this question:

When was the last time I did a cartwheel?

In the aftermath

Over the last week, my family's been in the hospital with my younger brother, Tucker. He's in a lot of pain, and so are we. He wakes up screaming in pain, confused because his eyes are swollen shut, and unaware of what happened with only a fuzzy idea of where he is. Recovering from what he went through is a lot of effort, time, and is extremely painful.

I know nothing we feel can even compare to what he is enduring, but I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we would gladly take away his pain and bear it for him. There's no physical pain I've experienced as painful as watching him suffer.

This pain we're all feeling has brought so many emotions to the surface; sadness, anger, confusion, regret, bitterness to name a few. It's been the single most difficult thing for me as an individual, my relationship with my husband, my relationship with my other siblings, and my relationship with my parents. We're all burdened with our own demons and they're so close to getting out.

I wonder how other families have made it through this... I'm plenty haven't, because I can feel something breaking on the inside. A pain so immense that it feels like I'm being split into two persons; the old Kelsie who was struggling to become a (paid) author and preparing for graduate school, and the Kelsie who is so wracked with anxiety, struggling to stay strong, and ready to drop anything at any second just to ease his suffering by one little bit.

He's my youngest brother, and in a way it feels like I'm watching my own child suffer. It's hard not to feel guilty. I have to remind myself that he had a mental disease, and that sometimes diseases are latent and hard to detect.

I'm overjoyed he's still with us. That night, driving 100 mph to the house, not sure whether I would find my brother alive or dead, is burned into my mind. I know I could be so much sadder right now, but it's still hard to cope.

When I started writing this post, I thought it was going to be this insightful look into how families react to suicide, and it's more like me driving in the thick haze of my own emotions. Maybe one day we'll sort it out and be okay, but right now "okay" seems so far away from all of us.

Update on Tucker

On Christmas night, my little brother, Tucker Hoss, attempted to end his life. We were having a Christmas party at Savannah's house, and he went home without much notice, which isn't unusual for Tucker. He was found on the floor with a bullet wound and a gun lying beside him. He was still alert but in pain. 911 was called and he was brought to Goodland. There he was intubated and sedated so he would be calm, and relieved from his pain. After a few hours of waiting, Tucker was flown to Denver where he is currently receiving treatment. He seems to be stable, and the bulk of his treatment is pain management and infection prevention. Mentally, Tucker seems fine. He's been cracking jokes, flirting with his nurses, and talking with his family members. Tucker's biggest challenges now are some bleeding in the brain, heavy swelling of his eyes and face, the possibility of permanent blindness, and anxiety relating to not being able to see where he is.

When Tucker was alert enough to talk, Mom and Dad told him about why he's in the hospital--by the suggestion of his psychiatrist--Tucker told them that he had been thinking of suicide but didn't think he would go through with it. No one noticed any warning signs, or anything strange.

It's hard to see him in so much phsyical pain. It's unbearable to know that prior to the incident that he was in so much mental pain he felt suicide was the only way to make it stop... and so sad that he didn't talk to us so we could let him know how much we love him or so we could get him help.

Even though Tucker has a long way to recovery, we're so glad that he's still with us, so that now we can tell him how much we love him. God worked a miracle by keeping him with us this long, and I can't thank God enough for that miracle.

Please, take the time to pray for him. Pray for his recovery--mentally and physically, pray that he can feel God's overwhelming, restorative love, that he will know how many people care for him, that some of his sight will return, and that he will keep progressing towards living a full, long, healthy life.

Redefining Failure-Suicide Attempts

Suicide attempts.

Success.

Failure.

Over the last few days, all I've been able to think about is my baby brother, life, death, God, heaven, hell, and suicide.

It's strange to me that when someone survives a suicide attempt, it's referred to as a failed attempt.

Failed.

As if the intentions of someone so ill that death seemed the only cure could determine the description of the act.

 Because "failure" the greatest success that could possibly follow a suicide attempt.

"Failure" is another chance at life.

"Failure" is a chance at treatment.

"Failure" is the beginning of a new life.

"Failure" is life-changing.

"Failure" let's us tell him how much we love him.

We prayed for "failure."

We begged God that he would "fail."

We consider "failure" a miracle.

I thank God every second for "failure."

For anyone to ever refer to a suicide attempt as a failed attempt is the height of ignorance. No success comes from a person falling to suicide, and no failure comes from surviving illness.

 Suicide is a symptom of a disease. A person must have suffered so much at the hands of mental illness to consider death a cure to life.

Society fails us when suicide is attached to the person and not to the disease. How ridiculous would it be for someone to say there was a failed attempt at cancer? No one would ever say there was a failed bacterial infection, or a failed pneumonia, or an attempted death of natural causes.

We live inside our minds.

We need to create a culture where mental health isn't stigmatized. I want to live in a world where a coworker or classmate would be just as comfortable telling me about seeing a therapist for depression as telling me about seeing a doctor for a flu.

But, for now, it's not. So here I am, thanking God for "failure."

Gram's Poem

Death

A poem by Margaret Hoss

My bones and flesh are buried

deep underneath the soil.

The robins fly high above,

free of care and toil.

The dew and morning mist

still lie glistening in the dawning day.

And where am I today?

Not here, I can say.

Up above and beyond,

a spirit soaring free;

free from lowly grave.

Life was fun and fascinating,

but no more do I crave.

Because I now will see the world

as a lesson I have learned.

I have gone on farther,

no longer within a body encumbered.

So do not grieve.

I do not sleep or slumber.

My life has been an adventure in so many ways.

True to myself I’ve tried to be.

It has been a truth

that has truly set me free.

I wish to say

to all my loved ones I leave behind,

Step up to life!

Embrace it to your bosom.

Do not hang your head and whine.

Live life fully and joyfully

Drink deeply of its pleasures.

Enjoy the pure simple treasures.

God has made us divine.

He has given us a passage to travel through time.

We always were – before birth,

and live beyond the bones and flesh.

I am going on in great anticipation.

I have passed the test.                     

Margaret Hoss, 2002                              

Somewhere over the rainbow...

A rainbow can have as many different meanings as there are raindrops that fall from the sky. It's the covenant between us and God protecting us from a wiping-out-the-entire-human-race-minus-a-few rain storm. It's the path Leprechauns follow to gold and happiness. It's a man named Roy G. Biv who helps teach children the color spectrum. It's a refraction of light on water droplets. It's the symbol of the end of a storm and the dawning of a new, more fruitful time. It's one of the many ways nature can show both its wrath and beauty in the span of minutes. Sometimes it's all of those things and more at once.

These past few days have definitely led me to feel the full spectrum of human emotion--the good, the bad, and the ugly. On Friday, September 18th, Ty and I took a roundabout way home to Western Kansas in order to celebrate the life of my grandmother. 

Because it's a 15 hour drive to Sharon Springs from Nashville (not including traffic) we decided it would be better to fly so we could have more time with family without missing so much school and wearing out our vehicles. So, we did what any logical human being would do, and flew from Nashville to Denver, and then rode from Denver to Sharon Springs, cutting our trip time in about half. 

Ty and me pre-blast off. Funny anecdote about that... just the Thursday prior, one of the priests was talking about flying, and he said, "Don't pray for me, pray for the pilot! If he makes it, we all make it." So from now on, the 2938473 Our Father's I say before flying are for the purpose of the pilot's safe journey!

When we landed in Denver, my cousin, Madeline, and her husband, Brayton, were there to pick us up. They're currently living in Denver, so it was really nice of them to let us hitch a ride to Kansas with them. I really enjoyed catching up with them, hearing how their classes and work were going, and meeting their new "child", a very even-keeled Toy Poodle named Daisy.

By the time we got to Sharon Springs it was already around 8PM, but we made time to eat some delicious cheesy jalepeno dip that my mother made, to socialize with Dustin, Kayla, Sophia, and Dominic, and even hang out with my sister Savanna(h), her manfriend, Tyler, and his little man, Tyler Jet. There are too many Tyler's in this family. (Savannah and Tyler, if you're reading this, can I call Little Ty "TJ" from here on out?) 

That night was actually a ton of fun, because we were all so excited to see each other and catch up. Also, because we discovered that multiple people in our family have alter egos. For those of you who don't know, I have an alter personality named "Rattlesnake Sue." The rootinest tootinest rattlesnake killinest cowgirl there ever was. Well, apparently my dad has an alter ego that is THE Hulk Hogan... and little Ty becomes little Hulk. I'm pretty sure the thing that won over Little Ty (TJ?) was dad literally ripping off his shirt and saying, "I am a truuueee Americannnn!" So I'm not sure why but little Hulk didn't like Rattlesnake Sue, and we had some fun with that. Little Hulk/Little Ty/(TJ?) also taught us some sick dance moves. I'm not sure where he learned them, but I need to meet up with his teacher! This kid could actually incorporate wiping snot off of his nose into a pretty fluid dance move without batting an eyelash. (A talent that would come in handy now considering I caught his cold, and boy is it a doosy.)

The next day with all that fun behind us, we got up, got dressed, and headed out to Grandma Hoss's house for the first time since her passing. I'm not sure what I expected to feel, but it just kind of felt weird. When I walked into her house, I was flooded with that warm feeling I always get from stepping into Grandma's house. I spent so much of my childhood and early adulthood there, with mostly pleasant memories. My pleasant memories were colored bitter with the knowledge that a home is just a house when the people you love aren't there.

So we milled about the property, finding odd jobs to do until it was time for Gram's Celebration of Life. Paul McNall, a local non-denominational pastor led the celebration. He presided over both my grandpa Hoss's and grandpa Mitchell's funerals. Gram also found great comfort in him, from praying with him for her daughter, Maralee, or speaking and praying with him as she battled cancer. It was great to have him there. His wife played the accordion, an instrument my gram always loved, to the song Amazing Grace. 

Since I'd written a visual narrative from an interview with Gram, my aunt had asked me if I wanted to speak at Gram's Celebration of Life. I said yes, because I really wanted to find a way to honor my grandmother, but I had so many doubts. Would I do her justice? Would I be able to keep it together? Would people think that someone else should have spoken? Would my talk be too long or too short? All doubts aside, I gave a short talk that maybe lasted a few minutes (something I think Gram would have liked) I made it through without totally breaking down, and when I finished, people clapped. I'm not sure whether people usually clap at funerals because I haven't been to one in quite a while, but I'm guessing that means I did alright.

After I gave my talk, my aunt, Lisa, read a poem that Gram had written about death back in 2002. I might be paraphrasing, but this is what Lisa said, and I totally agree: "When I first read it, I thought it was about death in general, but as I'm reading it now, I'm realizing that she was writing about her own death." I'll put her poem in another blog post, because it really is beautiful.

At the end of the service, we did a balloon release with bright yellow balloons. Grandma loved bright colors, so it was perfect. I think most people symbolize balloon releases as taking prayers and messages up to heaven, but I kind of thought of it as Gram's last act of adding beauty to a place that seemed so morose. Like her bright spirit had carried on through those whose lives she had impacted. Maybe that's just me being sentimental. 

When it had drawn to a close, we all made our way down to the shop to share a meal among family and friends. (Is it really a Hoss party if there isn't food and beer involved?) I met some family I didn't even know I had, and shared some thoughts with some of my closest loved ones.

Dakota refusing to let me get a candid picture of him.

My cousin Isabel, the self-proclaimed "starving artist" and Dakota together.

My husband and three-weeks-younger-than-I-am cousin, Chance.

And my aunts and uncles. Joke intended. If you don't get it, you're definitely not related.

After Gram's celebration of life, I walked through the prairie by her house on my own, and I cried. I thought of my gram and how I'll miss her dearly. I thought of how I was walking through the countryside that she loved so dearly. I thought about how life changes so much, how short it all is, but how long at the same time. 

Thoughts like that stick in your heart and can destroy you, so I make an effort not to dwell on them for long. I gave myself the walk from the pasture to the shop, and that was the end of it. Then I let my mind wander to more pleasant topics.

Like this pretty little girl's smile.

Or how amazing it is that kids can find such happiness beating the crap out of a literal piece of crap with a baseball bat.

Or how everyone can find joy in new life, no matter what age.

Or how being around children brings out the child in us all. Which reminds me of these verses (Matthew 18:1-5) 1At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. 3And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."

Before all the family had left, we met once again atop the hill to spread Gram's ashes across the prairie, which had been her desire. The Catholic Church believes in spreading ashes over a permanent place, and typically family farms don't qualify. This was different. Grandma wanted to be spread over God's creation, and what could be more permanent than that? Before we spread her ashes, family member took turns sharing thoughts and feelings about Gram. Some were short sweet words, some were brief and deeply felt, some cut short by unbridled sobs, and others yet were quirky anecdotes--all were a perfect testament of our grandmother, great-grandmother, mother, aunt, and friend.

The day ended on a good note. My cousins, Isabel and Michelle, stayed at grandma's house that night with my brother, Dakota, my husband, Ty, and me. My uncle, Wyatt, came over and chatted and before the night was over some new family friends showed up and we spent the night talking about all things country.

Morning came and a new day dawned upon us, whether we were ready to say goodbye to yesterday or not. We celebrated my aunt, Maralee's 33rd birthday with cake and presents, our family members said their goodbyes, and I spent most of the day going through old pictures and cleaning Gram's house from the carnage that is typical of a family gathering. Ty and I went to the movies in Sharon Springs that night. Tickets are only five dollars a piece (they only take cash or check), and with popcorn, a dill pickle, and a large pop, we only spent $14.50. The Strand Theatre is a pretty cool place, because it's mostly run by volunteers, so it's great to see how wonderful something can be when members of the community step up and pitch in.

After the movie we visited my sister, Savanna(h), and her manfriend, Tyler, at their home in Sharon Springs. It's always weird visiting my baby sister when she's living her grownup life. We had a nice "grownup" talk and then Ty and I headed back out to grandma's house.

Another morning was upon us, and our time in Wallace County was passing so much more quickly than I had intended. Mom and Tucker came to see us before they headed back home to Manhattan, Kansas. Ty and I continued cleaning and going through pictures, we spent some time visiting with Dad and Wyatt, we went to Goodland to run some errands, and we brought the night in teaching Ty about how silage is made and used. (It's the next topic for Reminisce Visual Narratives, so stay tuned!)

Ty watching from his perch on Wyatt's flatbed pickup.

Wyatt's dog, Snoopy, waiting for some pets.

Dad standing in front of the bi-directional he was using to make/form/pack the pile of silage.

Dad and Wyatt driving tractors over the pile, even as the sun sets.

An artistic depiction of tractor headlights.

The silage chopper pouring freshly chopped sorghum into the truck.

Sadly, after that night, our last day in Western Kansas was nigh upon us. We spent the next morning packing and working online (for me) and studying (for Ty). We had a brief conversation with my uncle, Wyatt, said our goodbyes, and headed thirty miles West to my dad's house. Before too long, we were driving to Denver.

Dakota met us in Goodland for our "last supper" in Kansas for the time being. It was at Steak n' Shake. (We keep things classy 'round here.) I had a buttery burger (the South is growing on me) and we had a great conversation. Dakota's going to school for respiratory therapy, and I am so proud of him for how hard he's been working at his part-time job, CNA classes, and his actual classes. Now that I'm typing it, I'm so impressed at how busy he's been, and I'm sure he'll continue along the path to success, whatever that means to him personally.

Ty, Dad, and I left from Goodland and made the three-hour-long trip to Denver where we stayed the night before getting up (too) bright and early for our 9AM flight to Nashville. I kept things interesting by booking a hotel 22.1 miles away from the airport (I thought it was 2.21 miles away) and (almost) losing both my phone and driver's license. Thank God my head is attached. Thank God Ty and Dad were patient with me. And Thank God I found both my phone and driver's license.

On a more unfortunate note, over the last couple of days, I've developed a raging head cold, so our going away picture looked more like this: 

Of course Ty looks handsome as always. I resorted to the duck face since smiling was painful.

I guess I always have mixed feelings about Wallace County and now's as good of time as any to reflect on them. I've had more than my fair share of hard times there, and made more than my fair share of mistakes growing up. I'm still growing up. This trip was made even more complex since we were going home to say our final goodbye to Grandma Hoss. But, like Gram, I find so much peace and beauty in the prairie there. The prairie is my rainbow. It's faced so many hard times: drought, flash flood, fires, winds, tornadoes, extreme heat and cold, the heavy force of people, animals, vehicles, and heavy machinery, blinding light, the darkest night, and more, but somehow it's still there, still persevering, still producing beautiful food for livestock, and for our souls. It's God's untouched creation laid out before us, his masterpiece for the few of us lucky enough to lay eyes upon it. So as long as there's a prairie out there in Wallace County, even through all the happy and sad moments, there'll always be a home there for me.

Spider Ty

I think I had it more "together" in fifth grade than I do now, because this will be the second time I'm citing my fifth-grade-self in this blog... Back in the good-ol'-days, I decided that I would fix all of my problems with a "happy book." The idea was that every single day I would write down the things that had made me happy that day. And, because I thought it was such a wonderful idea, I bought six spiral ring notebooks, wrote in sharpie marker "My Happy Book" on the front, and wrote a name on the inside cover--one for each of my family members.

I don't know whether  any of my family ever used theirs, but I used mine, for about a month, and then it turned into a diary, which isn't really relevant now, I guess. The idea is that a "happy book" has been proven to be a really powerful tool for increasing mental well-being. 

At 21, I don't keep a diary (unless you consider this blog a diary), and I don't keep a "happy book" either. Maybe, though, I can start with a "happy post" where I list the good things about my day. I'm starting to realize Nashville just might not be my cup of tea, but that doesn't mean that it's a totally stale drink I should toss down the drain. 

Lately, lists seem to be the best way to proceed for me, so I'll start there.

Happy Post

1) Ty and I have a place to live, and a fridge full of food... (Note to self: Buy more ice cream.)

And a husband who humors me by taking pictures of me in church clothes.

2) There are two plane-tickets with our names on it for a flight back home, so we can honor one of the most influential people in my life.

3) I have a great camera, computer, and internet, so I can take awesome pictures, and meet with new people.

4) The Red Cross was so busy with blood donors that they didn't have time to honor my appointment. Okay,,. that's kind of negative, and it really upsets me when people don't honor their word, but I am so glad that people are donating blood--it's a really easy way to save a life!

5) Several people back a K-State have agreed to serve as references for me--I'm going to be applying to an Ag Communications program at Oklahoma State University. This is great because one of these people was so unbelievably understanding about my decision not to attend Vanderbilt. It's always a great feeling when someone so whole-heartedly accepts you for who you are.

Their mascot is Pistol Pete... I wonder if there's room for another mascot that goes by the name of "Rattlesnake Sue"? (AKA the rootin tootinest, snakey-killin'est alter ego there ever was.)

6) I have an interview on Tuesday to be a substitute teacher. I think it is definitely going to be a "glamorous" job, even though Ty insists otherwise.

7) Papi is super cute.

And secretly a sumo wrestler... whaaaa??

8) Netflix, you da' real MVP.

9) Good hair days.

10) A husband who still loves me after I send him pictures like this...

And I suppose people who still read my blog after this picture....

11) Tried my hand at book binding... let's be honest, the first attempt was ugly, but, as Ty said in surprise when I showed him the finished product: "It looks like a book!"

12) Finally played Scrabble against Ty... and won! 

By like 48 points... with the word Qat. Not sure what it means, but I'm guessing it's something like "Kelsie creamed Ty at Scrabble and is never going to let him forget it."

13) A beautiful church to go to on Sundays.

14) Had a "Czech Style" Pilsner the other night. I almost forgot how good beer can taste. :) (Yes, Jesus drank alcohol too.)

15) My husband has gotten several interviews for accounting internships... basically because he's awesome, smart, and looks good in a suit.

"Spider Ty, Spider Ty, does whatever a Spider Ty does." - David Stelting.

Fifteen things in the happy post isn't too shabby. I probably won't write a happy post every day, or every month even, but maybe it will be enough to mentally make a "happy list" from time to time.