‘Sup? Here’s a story about me.
On Saturday, July 7, 2018, Paul was driving east on 42nd Street. As he passed the hospital, he saw an animal wobbling across the road. He thought it was a squirrel and thought he’d better check it out. When he did, discovered a little kitten, about five or six weeks old, was nearly blind from the conjunctivitis and goop oozing from his eyes. Paul picked up the kitten and brought him home.
Deep breath.
This is not an easy post for me to make or write, but there are some things people need to know. This past year has been a huge struggle, bigger than anyone will probably ever know.
A good friend of mine recently told me my shift in writing here has turned extremely personal. That is due, in part, to finally taking care of my mental health issues with a professional instead of doing it on my own.
By working on these issues, it has become harder to mask my inner turmoil. People at work ask if I’m okay. I’m not, but I am, and I will be. That’s the important part.
Youth enjoy the day at the Panhandle Equality Pride event at Frank Park in Scottsbluff.
Paul and I always attend the Panhandle Equality picnic. Now in its fourth year, the event continues to grow. This year, there were fantastic musical performances, some from acts who traveled from Lincoln and Omaha to be a part of making a difference in western Nebraska.
I don’t know everyone at the event, but there are always the familiar faces. They are working to make life better for the next generation so that, one day, the LGBTQ community won’t have to work so hard just to be seen as an equal.
Travis Hiner’s guest editorial in the Star-Herald fails in so many ways, I was tempted to not even write this, but I honestly feel that, if you are going to publicly state your opinion, then it should be able to bear scrutiny. This editorial does not.
I went to the Scotts Bluff County Fair and wrote stories for the Star-Herald about rabbits and poultry. I also met the best chicken in the world.
This is Mayda Leggott. She owns me, the best damn chicken in the world. Mrs. Brooke Heine helps the 4-H kids out because they need both their hands free to keep us chickens from running away. Shush now. I need to listen and make sure Mayda tells the judge everything she’s supposed to.
Chimney Rock on July 4, 2018.
Back in February, I visited Chimney Rock to write a story on upcoming changes to the visitors museum and on a long-time employee’s retirement. When I got there, I was fed a lot of food. The ladies there made me take a bunch of it home. I had food for a week.
While I was there, I got to chatting about how no one remembers my birthday because it’s July 5. In America, that means everyone is off doing vacation and/or family stuff for July 4, also known as Independence Day.
Vicki Cobb and Sharon Ulbrich did not forget this. They also remembered how much I loved Vicki’s coconut cake.
Could you and ten of your friends pull this 39,000 pound plane 15 feet in less than six seconds? You’d have to in order to be the winning team “Beauty and the Beasts.”
911 Communications Director Ray Richards called me to ask if Paul and I would volunteer to help out during the Pulling for a Purpose event at the Western Nebraska Regional Airport. I didn’t know what to expect so, as usual, I brought my camera bag with me.
I was sitting in the staff break room at the Star-Herald trying to keep it together. I had just sat down to eat my lunch, but wasn’t being successful. I was shaking. My heart was racing.
Up until that point, my day was the kind where thoughts are fleeting, including ones that make you wonder what it would really be like to drive your car off the Scotts Bluff National Monument. When that thought came to the front of my brain, I picked up my phone and texted my friend, Amber.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I typed. Before she could reply, I sent a series of rapid fire messages to her. When she responded her texts were ones of concern, reassurance, and messages that she was there for me. We texted for several minutes before I told her I needed to go sit in my car. I was about to break down completely and didn’t want to do so at work.
It’s awards season and I won some stuff from the Nebraska Press Association and the Nebraska Press Women organization. They think I’m good at making words sound nice and believe I know what I’m doing with a camera.
It was 4:47 a.m. A Thursday. After a restful night, I awakened to begin my usual morning routine before heading to work. There was the obligatory trip to the bathroom, then I was off to the kitchen to gather kitty treats so my cats do not kill me before 5 a.m., each day. One the cats were happy and disappeared to wherever they go after I give them food, I headed into the basement to ride my bicycle to nowhere. I ride anywhere from eight to ten miles each morning as I practice my French via Duolingo on my cell phone.
On this still dark Thursday morning, I opened up the program and began cycling as I waiting for it to load. My brain usually isn’t fully functioning yet, and it’s probably stupid to make it practice French at such an ungodly hour, but it’s when I have the time.
Then, my phone rang.
Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén