family

We’ve begun our collection of animal head gear for Adam’s new niece (because all children should have embarrassing photos held against them at some point).  Our first acquisition was purchased today at the London Zoo.  Right now she’s more likely to fit inside of it rather than wearing it on her head, but at least she has something to look forward to.  Good thing I’m not easily embarrassed or this could actually work in the reserve.

I have officially lived in London, England for 15 days.  My first visitor came on day 12.  Not bad, huh?  My aunt Pat from Houston was in Brussels, Belgium with my uncle on business and came over for a quick 2 day visit.

Since my stuff from the States still has not arrived, we went shopping (Pat’s calling in life) for a third pair of pants as my other two pairs I’ve been wearing for the past 2.5 months are getting a little old.  We may have also purchased just a few other things (essentials I assure you).

The highlight of the trip for me was the Van Gogh exhibit at the Royal Academy for Art.  The exhibit focused on the artist’s letter writing and sketches.  I discovered my newest favorite Van Gogh painting, “Hospital at Saint-Remy.”

The painting is of the psychiatric hospital he checked himself into.  It’s interesting that his best work (in my humble opinion) was when he was seemingly most tortured in the last few years of his life.

While Van Gogh’s story is rather depressing, the exhibit was inspiring and has further encouraged me to keep my sketchbook out.  Getting out and about with Pat to new places reminded me that I doubt I will ever run out of things to draw and paint here.

Yes! Score one for Ashley.  It’s official, my brother is engaged to the coolest chic, which now fulfills my life-long yearning for a sister.  Last night the families celebrated and told funny stories about the bride and groom to be (I should be tame, that could come back to bite me in the rear).

There’s an endless list of things I love about Valerie, but I’ll just highlight one that is the most painfully obvious to me: I no longer will be the only tall woman in the family.  We probably even have the same impossible-to-shop-for-inseam.  Yeah, I know it’s a shallow observation, but give the 6′ tall girl a break.

YEA!  Go Paul!  I’m so excited for them.

After two grueling months of being screamed at, infrequent 5-minute privilege phone calls home, and physical training drills (which cost him 12 pounds and a bum knee), my beloved big brother is back home.  Greeting him at the airport this afternoon was the first time I can ever remember him hugging me so hard that he picked me up off the ground (well, in the non-violent-sibling-rivalry-sense).

Maybe I should have thought twice about coming down from the hug, taking a step back to take a look at him and saying, “You look scary.”  You should see his stern military photo that mom showed me the night before.  This is definitely a different look for my goofball, moutain biking, Slayer-loving bro.  At least I said it with a smile and he found it laughable.

Ahhhh, it’s good to have him back.

Yes, I did say that.  But it was my mom’s birthday and what did she want to do? A 5k at 8am on a Saturday morning (just what every normal person wants to do on their birthday). The funny thing was that I never found her before the race, so plan A: brisk walk with birthday girl turned into plan B: the first time Ashley ran more than 2 miles in maybe a month.  No, I didn’t like it and I had to run through stinky Butchertown (who on route committee thought that was a good idea?), but blah blah blah.  I did finish a 5K, in under 30 minutes nonetheless.

Eh, the really happy part about this supposed happiness-blog-post-story was breakfast at Lynn’s Paradise Cafe promptly afterward with my lost mother, who I obviously found, and this really cute guy from Cincinnati. Yay for ugly lamps, yummy omletes, and useless 5k shirts used for oil painting rags (which I have a secret affinity for, kind of like fridge magnets and post-its).

Raindrops on grandpa’s hospital window.

Fresh from my sketchbook/journal. Somewhat nonsensical, sleepy stupor induced mushiness written late last night at Floyd Memorial Hospital:

Surreal; that’s the only way I can think to describe watching someone you’ve known all of your life slip away towards death. I’m not afraid of it. It’s actually a beautiful thing, seeing someone’s cycle of life come full circle. Grandpa used to watch over me like a shepherd even for something as silly as making sure I didn’t choke on his Life Savers. “Show me your tongue Ashley Kay” he would say (my middle name is not Kay by the way, but he always called me that to pull my leg). He would stay by my side until no evidence remained of the hard candy. Or how about the way he would fret every summer as I exhausted myself attempting to blow up pool rafts three times my size. “You’ll pass out Ashley Kay, you watch.”  And now, I sit at his bedside and sleep with one eye open so I can catch him before he pulls and tugs at the foreign devices attached to his frail body as he lays in this hospital bed.  Countless times we’ve told him, “Please leave that alone grandpa, you need it. It will make you better.”  While it is sad to watch the man he was fade away to Alzheimer’s, there really is something precious about experiencing the beginning of life with him from the perspective of my childhood, and then witnessing his experience on the other end of the spectrum.

I remember this so well with grandma Cecil. As much as I hated to see her struggle in giving up her 80+ years of complete independence, allowing others to take care of her, I loved reciprocating some of the things she did for me, like brushing my hair, bathing me, preparing my meals just the way I liked them.  Grandpa Chadwell was much more of a hands off care-giver to Paul and myself. He watched silently at a distance. We fished together, he hid Easter eggs for us, he let me turn the garage into my play house. He told me I was his favorite “fishing buddy.” He hooked my bait for me because I thought it was cruel, then he ducked when I cast my rod.

He worried about everything. I’ll eat too many cookies, fall down the stairs, the music will hurt my ears, I’ll drive too fast, I’m too far from home, so on and so on. As  matter of fact, I’m convinced the reason he was so worried I would choke on a Life Saver was because, as the story goes, my aunt Ann choked on a Barbie shoe when she was a little girl. Ever since that accident, any object the size of a quarter or smaller raised red flags. I still thought it was ridiculous that I wasn’t allowed to be more than three feet from him until the Life Saver had dissolved.

I think that kind of worry runs in the Chadwell genes. Aunt Pat and mom definitely inherited it. And well, I have been called a mother hen a time or two. Looking out for others is one thing (and I’m not giving that up), but I could stand to take the self-directed personal worry down a few notches. Choke-size Barbie shoes do not mean Life Savers are bad.  What the hell am I talking about? Ha, I’m going to try to loosen up and think less about past isolated experiences that don’t necessarily have a damn thing to do with what’s in front of me.

To begin with, today’s word of the day email put a huge smile on my face when I got up:

“audacious: 1 : daring, bold; 2 : insolent; 3 : marked by originality and verve”

The next highlight was the birthday love that found its way to my desk at the office, which was followed by the surprise of actually being able to leave the office early as planned.

Then mom and I were off to Z Spa for massages. It’s amazing how relaxing pushing and moving muscles around can be.

My evening consisted of girlfriends, carry out Vietnamese dinner, three Homemade Pie Kitchen cakes (with no plates), and watching “the Office” via Hulu.com and a projector. It.was.awesome!

One last highlight: Although I’m not a fan of horoscopes, I was super glad to get this one from a friend via Facebook:

“Happy birthday, Capricorn! You’re often seen as the Rock of Gibraltar by loved ones and close associates. Your words of wisdom have helped many a friend through rough times. Benevolent and selfless, you’ll form many strong friendships in your lifetime. The coming year is the payback …  Read Moreyear. A heavenly reward will transform an area of your life for the better. Get ready for good things to start happening.”

Hell yeah! ’twas a good day!

For a mere $9, I am declaring myself the winner of best Christmas gift given.

I went to see an iMax movie at the Louisville Science Center last week and stopped in the gift shop on the way out.  There, I found diseases.  That’s right, Polio, ulcers, chickenpox, and more.  I grabbed some Salmonella for my uncle Jim to put in his stocking.  It seemed fitting since he actually had Salmonella poisoning this year.  He got a big kick out of it, and then took his traditional Christmas nap (Salmonella is exhausting you know).

I asked my dad if he would take me to the airport last week if I drove to the car dealership where he works. I mentioned I needed to change my oil, which of course turned into a request for him to do it while I was gone.

He also picked me up from the airport. On the way to the dealership, he was making fun of the condition I had left my car in when I dropped it off and said “I wish I had had time to wash it for you.” He led me to the garage where it was kept. Not only had he changed the oil, he rotated my tires and had it freaking detailed! I’m afraid to get in it now because I might get it dirty. Thanks dad!

There’s nothing like a loved-one being in horrific car accident to make you appreciate life. My only sibling/older brother was hit by a drink driver several weeks ago, which is the second time he has walked away from an accident that could have easily killed him. The event of course shook up everyone, and Paul was lathered with love and attention for simply being alive.

My mom, Paul’s girlfriend and I decided to take it step further this past weekend and throw a party celebrating my bro’s superhero survival skills. Since my power was still out from the freak wind storm/hurricane in Kentucky, I had to borrow a friend’s kitchen to bake a cake for the event, which Paul greatly appreciated.

We had a great night appreciating my goofy brother and certainly acknowledged how fortunate we all are to have him. We also got to tell some funny stories about Paul (he’s an easy target). I’m so happy he’s alive and in one piece.