After 7 years of marriage my husband has yet to learn that I am right about most things. Even when I remind him of past events in which I let him be right and it turned out badly. Just this week I told him that Ethan’s baseball team would not be wearing their uniforms to practice. Nate disagreed and dressed him accordingly. Guess what? I was right.

Then, there was that time when the old man next door was acting funny. I kept telling Nate that he was loopy and semi-dangerous. He kept telling me I was paranoid. A week later the old man climbed over our back fence, came in our back door and when I approached him he tried to kiss me. Since he was wrong we built a 6 foot fence to divide the houses.

Over the past few weeks we’ve made some decisions on flooring and paint in our new home. For the most part we’ve agreed or compromised. There was that one time I had to remind him that putting hardwood floor in the laundry room would be stupid, because I’ve been known to have a washing machine overflow with water a time or two. He finally agreed on ceramic tile.

When it came to choosing paint colors for the walls we disagreed on the kitchen. My husband has good taste, I’ll give him that. Although I frequently must remind him that a black shirt and brown shoes do not match.

Nate is stuck in the mind-set of Carol Brady having a yellow kitchen. I’m much more modern. I like yellow, but if you look at the light living room wall it is the same color that runs down the side of the kitchen and hallway.

I think we need something contrast it. Let me show you four possible options. This wall will eventually have a chair rail and white wainscoting below that line to the floor.

So you tell me who is right here. I vote for the far right blue color. Nate votes for either yellow color. I know I’m right.

What a week! I am typically someone who is on-time (early even) for everything. We did not complete our taxes this year until 8 p.m. on April 15th. I had received a free copy of TurboTax through Props & Pans and it was VERY easy to use, but I just didn’t get around to e-filing until the last minute. (By the way you can win a free copy of the software here. You can also win Momager Calling Cards and a copy of Growing Up Wild Cats.)

April 16th was the 3 year anniversary of my cousin Stephanie passing away. I was able to go by her angel statue at the grave site and leave some flowers. It certainly doesn’t get easier with time.

Work has been very busy. There is a guest speaker coming in town this week and I am responsible for planning and overseeing the workshops and presentations he will be doing over the next few days. I’m enjoying the new position, but it requires a lot of organization. I’ll be thankful when summer time arrives and things slow down.

Our house has been on the market a full two weeks now and only ONE person has actually looked at it! I know the market is slow, but I guess we were expecting more activity than that. Each morning we sweep and clean up before we leave thinking someone may drop in during the day, but so far that hasn’t happened. I know the one day I leave my bra hanging on the armoire in our bedroom somebody will show up.

I thought having a blood clot and giving myself shots twice a day was plenty of excitement for our family, but I was wrong. (By the way, my stomach looks like a battle ground!) Friday morning we were awoken around 4:30 a.m. by the house shaking. By shaking I mean actually moving! Turns out Indiana (and several surrounding states) experienced an earthquake that registered 5.2. Seems small in comparison to what California might register, but to us it was big enough.

Lastly, you must go read this article in our local paper. A student teacher e-mailed a fake threat to the school she was working at because she had an assignment due that day! I feel sorry for her, because this will totally ruin her career, but in a way it was pretty stupid.

Last week was not a good week. Despite my tough exterior I was very concerned for my overall health. I felt safe with the medical plan in place to prevent the blood clot from breaking off and traveling to my heart or lungs, until the insurance denied the important medication needed to prevent that from happening.

By Friday my doctor and I were both beyond frustrated. Thankfully, I have a small town doctor who practices medicine with a big heart and a deep concern for his patients well-being. He definitely went the extra mile (or two) for me this week, including spending his day off trying to get me this medication and giving me his home phone number. More than 48 hours after being diagnosed with a blood clot that could end my life, I was finally give the shots needed for the next two weeks due to a “medical over-ride” some guy in a suit declared before he went home for the weekend.

How is it that my private insurance, which I work full-time to keep, denies me a medication that may very well save my life? I even have a medical history of blood clots. There was one in my leg right after the car accident that they caught early enough to prevent.

My mom is very anxious for me to “slow down and rest.” I understand that she is concerned and wants me to be as healthy as possible, but I can’t. Yes, I’m physically and mentally exhausted, but by stopping the everyday things I feel less normal. As crazy as that sounds, when I was bed-bound laying only on my back for several months and stuck inside a 10X10 white room helpless to even use the restroom by myself, I promised myself and God that if I could someday walk, I would.

The battle I’ve encountered over the past 3 years and numerous surgeries has been keeping myself out of depression. For every day I could not walk, move my arm or get out of bed I struggled. It would be so easy to lock myself in a room and never come out. There is no pain when there is no movement. But instead I push myself, because I know once I enter that room there is no turning back.

So here I am in the throws of a new position at work, volunteering with a local youth home, our house on the market, about to close on a new house we found, with an ankle I still can’t fully walk on and a blood clot near my heart. I am so thankful to have these issues to keep me busy, but I do recognize I need to change some things. I’ve realized that I by over-doing it I also run the risk of entering the room.

Some people call it intuition. I call it instinct. It’s that feeling you have deep inside when you know something isn’t right or at least it’s about to go terribly wrong. I can remember a few of those moments over the past few years that have hallowed a pit in my stomach.

The first being the day of my car accident. It’s not something I can explain, but upon preparing for the day and packing up the car, I had this feeling of uncertainty. I’m not superstitious by any means, but something made me feel as if things were not going to go as planned. Ethan and I went about our business of course, packed up the car, visited a friend and her new baby, then headed to Wal-Mart.

I stood in an aisle at the store and debated buying a set of 3 lined baskets for about 10 minutes. My first thought was they would make a great birthday present for my cousin Stephanie. They were her style. My second thought was her birthday was still a few weeks away, maybe I should wait. My last thought was that I may not get them to her. I can’t remember why that last concern crossed my mind as I debated, but I know it did.

Those 10 minutes affected the rest of my life and the lives of those around me. Since that day I have relived the accident and what-if’s in my mind so many times. Ten minutes. Ten minutes would have placed me at my mom’s house for lunch when the accident was happening to someone else. I bought the baskets and even though I was in ICU during her birthday, she did get them.

The next memory I have was the night before Stephanie passed away. I had called her house and there was no answer. I knew she should be home, as she had been the past few days since she wasn’t feeling well. For some reason I knew something just wasn’t right. By the next morning my mother entered our back sliding glass door to tell me she was gone and in some ways I was not surprised. It was a very sad moment, but a peaceful one.

The last one I experienced was today. My arm has been unusually swollen since they removed the PICC line over a month ago. Finally, the doctor decided to have an ultrasound and check it out. As I was laying on a cold table in my bra and jeans and a technician ran the wand up and down my arm and chest, that familiar feeling was returning. Before she even said there is a problem, I knew. My thoughts revolved around a memory of Stephanie that I hold close to my heart and I was concentrating on it, rather than the technician’s words.

Turns out I have a serious blood clot in my shoulder area. The hospital staff and my doctor (who met me there) were rushing around making phone calls, running additional tests and I remained calm. If you know me, you know I am known for my excited nature.

By late morning I was sitting in my family doctor’s office listening to him explain the seriousness of this clot. He told me that the concern is it breaking off and traveling to my heart and lungs causing death. Instead of feeling like life was suddenly spinning out of control, I remembered Stephanie. A similar blood clot took her life before the cancer had time to full ravage her body.

In so many ways these feelings I have keep me protected from the unknown and living life in a state of fear. Instinct is our God-given natural protection. I don’t think it’s coincidence that Stephanie has been the center of these three instances and I wouldn’t be surprised for her to be there for more.

We signed Ethan up for what we thought was t-ball. He is playing on a 5-6 year old team and it turned out to be a pitching machine league. So far he has done pretty well, but it makes me nervous to see a ball flying at him that fast. The parents on his team are going to provide quite a bit of entertainment for us. We’re only 2 practices into the season and I’ve already labeled a few of them.

See this guy? I call him “Hang Man.” See how he hangs on the fence constantly coaching his supposedly 6 year old son (who looks like he’s 8 o 9!) The man doesn’t stop talking and giving pointers and asking his son what he’s going to do if he gets the ball and… Seriously, I could care less how old his son is (who can’t throw, hit or catch), but either sign up to be a coach or sit down and shut up already!

And this guy looks like someone. Can you guess who?

Steven Seagal maybe?