Double Whammy: Losing Two Grandparents In Two Months

Pretty sure I've spent more time in Michigan in the last six months than the previous three years combined. Life is full of surprises, but this is one I could have done without.

Two months ago, I was sitting in this same exact seat writing about my grandmother (on my dad's side). This time, we buried my grandfather (on my mom's side) and didn't see it coming. He'd give me a spock bite and a slap upside the back of my head if I said much more than that on the internet, so I'll just say it was a really fast decline. Once again, I had a flight home booked to see a sick grandpa, but came just days away from seeing him again.

I went for a walk around the farm, thinking of all the moments I shared with him on that land. It's hard not to smile walking around that place. Every detail reminds me of my childhood, even more so because grandma insisted I wear his boots on the walk. At some point of their toddler-hood, every grandchild was placed in his boots and photographed while they clomped around on the dusty tile floor.

The fields have laid fallow for several years as grandpa aged and couldn't get around as well, but he taught me how to grow food there. I remembered all the times he'd hold me up in the branches of the mulberry trees so I could keep eating after I stripped the lower ones of all ripe fruit. I thought about the sledding we did into one particular valley. I'm not sure if the memory of grandpa losing his glasses in the snow is actually in my brain from that day, or from seeing the home videos. 

Grandma told me not to go all the way down to the river where he taught me to fish, since water levels have been high recently, but I walked along the ridge and saw it at a distance.  There are paths where I ran the horses and where grandpa and I hunted for mushrooms, even though I would never eat those disgusting things like everyone else. 

I laughed at the sheer number of rusted, old vehicles and machinery between the trees. I mean, he even still has his beat up red, Ford pick-up truck that we would co-drive around the farm, which he still drove. There is a picture of me as a toddler with my hands on the wheel of that thing. Now, it has holes in the floorboards and an empty pack of cigarettes in the seat that he'll never smoke. It's those little details that were like a punch in the gut. Things like opening his car door and being hit with the smell of his Marlboros.

Even more difficult is something I didn't have to experience with the loss of my other two grandparents: watching my grandma go through losing her husband. She's so lost and there is nothing we can do about it. We all thought she'd go first, so she was not prepared to be without him. This fall would have marked their 60th anniversary, so I can't even imagine the difficulty of this transition. She breaks down crying every couple hours. Seeing her sit in front of the casket and receiving his flag after the American Legion played 'Taps'... good Lord, I was not prepared to witness that. Over the past couple days, she's told me so many stories as we searched for one form in the file of his 25 year military career. (Side note: Grandpa was a stud in the Navy, both in looks and his top notch performance reviews. Haha!) 

Honestly, when my sister called to tell me he was gone, I thought it was a prank and he was finally getting me back for a sneak visit from six years ago. He promised he would get me back, and so help him if I ever tried that shenanigan again. He was so stern, but had massive soft spots for his grandkids. He expected big things out of us and was always there to help or teach us. From planting and fishing as a small child, to knitting as a kid, to driving (and using a gallon of milk to teach me not to slam on the brakes...), he was involved in so many aspects of who I am. I mean, he even encouraged my love of baking by paying me to whip up dozens of pies at a time, which my grandparents froze and ate throughout the year.

Grandpa checked in on my homeschooling frequently to make sure we were meeting his high standards. Grandpa and I spent a lot of time reading with me and stirring up the curiosity in me that turned me into a journalist. I'll never forget complaining to my mom about struggling with one of the literature selections. It was so boring, I kept falling asleep. Grandpa happened to be in town, so he said if he could do it, I had to suck it up and do it too. I've never been so happy to see him sleep! 

At the service, I met a woman my grandpa became close friends with over the last couple years. His latest project was beekeeping, and she helped him with it. When my mom introduced me, the woman gushed that she heard so much about me and that he was so proud of me. Yeah, I lost it. Hearing that someone with such high standards was proud of you, to the point of telling a stranger about you? That carries some pretty heavy weight.

Seriously, people. Don't take your grandparents for granted.

Don't mind me if you catch me crying over a Pepsi, Snickers or horseradish while listening to "meegoes." But Lord help us all the first time someone dares to call me "'Squirt", "Kiddo", or "Knucklehead" after this. Guaranteed, it's going to result in tears.

Note: I might swap some photos for childhood snapshots... if I track down those old albums..

Monte Sr.
11/23/37 - 4/13/18

     

Remembering Grandma Eunice

It's been a little over two years, but here I am again: sitting in what was my grandparents' home, knowing one is no longer alive. This time, it's my dad's mother, Eunice, but a different situation.

She had been slowly slipping away for several years. Dementia and Alzheimer's disease are jerks like that. It's been at least six years since I had a real conversation with her. Even that visit to Michigan was pretty rough. After answering the same question about 20 times, I started having fun with it. I may have told her I lived on the moon and on the ocean floor, knowing she wouldn't remember the answer in 15 minutes.

Grandpa laughed, but we all knew how hard it was on him to see his wife deteriorating like that. At one point, I was sitting at the table with both of them and she shared something nonsensical. Grandpa sighed, shook his head, and softly said, "Such a shame to lose such a beautiful mind." The sadness in his voice in that moment was something I don't know that I'll ever forget.

The last time I saw her at all was three years ago. At the time, the doctors didn't think Grandpa was going to make it, so the nursing home brought her back to the house. By that point, she wasn't able to talk much. She mostly sat in silence, and frequently confused her yes and no answers. It was hard to see.

However, I did get to see Grandma and Grandpa hold hands and stare at each other. They were both struggling with their health, but their love was stronger. 

When I went into that trip, I knew going in that it would most likely be the last time I saw Grandpa alive, and it was. Part of me also knew it would be the last time I saw Grandma, if only to preserve the memory of who she was, not the disease that dragged her away.

Was it selfish of me? Probably. 

But let me tell you about the woman I remember, because a good chunk of her personality is reflected in who I am now. 

I grew up hearing that I was just like Eunice. The unfortunate thing is, I thought it was a bad thing for many years. That phrase generally came after I had been sassy, bossy, or stubborn. (You know, those traits parents don't want their child to develop until after they've moved out, but are really inevitable when your firstborn is a redhead.) It wasn't until I heard Grandpa sigh about what was slipping away that I realized, he meant it as a good thing.

Grandma also frequently told me I was just like her. I really wish I paid more attention to the stories of her younger years which she shared when I exhibited something she fully understood. Unfortunately, those things fell on deaf young ears. 

Before I left for college, she gave me a little decorative pillow that I still have today. The gold embroidery on the cream cover said, "I'm not bossy. I just have better ideas." A smile stretched across her face when she gave it to me, saying it described her too, but I needed it to warn my roommates of what they were dealing with. 

It really hit me in her final months just how tough she was. She fought her way out of the hospital after a seizure and a serious heart attack. When my mom told me that they didn't think she'd make it through the night, I didn't think it was real because I'd heard that so many times before. She amazed the doctors with her strength and how long she was able to fight the odds. 

Being compared to someone like that? Well, that's pretty high praise. 

In a world where women are constantly told who they are supposed to be, she didn't care about stifling her strength to meet other people's ideals. She was fierce and fabulous, and told me it was ok to be so too. There's no doubt Eunice was a handful, but people loved her for it and in spite of it. 

I never doubted Grandma's love for me. She proudly and repeatedly told me that I got my red hair from her mother. We spent countless hours doodling on and cutting up piles of poster board. She was far more fashionable than me, so there were the shopping trips where she spoiled me rotten in an effort to fix that flaw. I'll never forget the day she bought what I called my "Rockstar INXS" outfit: a one-shouldered black shirt with a giant silver clasp, and jeans with hot pink stitching and studs lining the legs. (Don't judge. I was obsessed with the show and she just wanted me to be happy.) She made sure my dorm room towels matched my bedding. She sent me $5 every week during college to make sure I ate on Sunday nights when the dining center was closed. She tried to teach me to play piano, even learning a ZOEgirl song she'd never heard because it was the one I picked.

Now, she gets to sing all those hymns straight to Jesus. If there was anything she loved more than her family, it was God.

I'm glad she's free from fighting just to stay with those she loved so dearly. Eunice Marie was a spunky, unique woman, and she will be greatly missed.

Beginning My 30 Before 30 Challenge

Today is my half birthday.
That means I have 18 months left in my 20's, which is pretty crazy to think about. Aging is weird. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

In order to make sure I don't waste what's left of the decade, I decided to join a not-so-spiritual trend I've seen all over the internet: the 30 before 30 challenge. If you're unfamiliar with it, the goal is to pick 30 things you want to do before your 30th birthday, do them, and document the ensuing madness.

Creating this list was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I wanted it to be more activity and adventure focused, but considering time/money constraints and how much of my bucket list is already complete, it was pretty hard to come up with things. I asked friends for ideas, read dozens of other lists, and tried to think of things I haven't done so far in this life.

So, here goes nothin'.

1. Publish a book. I've started writing a couple, but never got around to finishing one, much less try to get it in print.
2. Get into Hall H. I regret not even trying to get into the throne room of nerd mecca last year. I have my pass lined up for San Diego Comic Con 2018, so this is the time to spend a night camping outside with strangers.
3. Go skydiving. Because, why not?
4. Create something and sell it. Someone offered me $75 for a calligraphy piece I did in high school, but my mom said no. It's haunted me ever since. Yes, I'm still annoyed.
5. Pay off student loans. Because I'm so over those monthly payments, obviously.
6. Cook through an entire cookbook. This could be quite the adventure from multiple angles. Who wants to volunteer to eat it with me?
7. Watch 50 of AFI's 100 best movies. I can't tell you how many times I've answered no to a question that starts with "Have you seen...?". Alex is pretty pumped about this one.
8. Learn a ballroom dance. Maybe I'll become more graceful. Maybe I'll just smash a few feet and fall down. I guess we'll just have to see.
9. Go to a national park. Somehow, I've managed to have not visited one so far. I mean, I saw the Grand Canyon from a plane, but I don't think that really counts.
10. Go to a book expo. Just another way to prove my nerdiness.
11. Read more classics. I loved them as a kid, but now I can't remember what I read or what they were about.
12. Go on a random road trip. With people or alone doesn't matter. Just hit the road and see what adventure awaits.
13. Get another piercing or tattoo. Things I've thought about doing for years, but just never got around to doing.
14. Learn basics of an instrument. Let's just say being the only one in worship classes who doesn't do anything musical was pretty annoying. Maybe I can be a little less tone deaf after this one.
15. Take a MasterClass. Those ads get me every time... especially the one with Shonda Rhimes.
16. Go ice skating. Another silly little thing I've never done.
17. NYC Comic Con. It's the only major US con I haven't been to.
18. Get my concealed carry permit. This is also on the 'things I've said I was gonna do for years but still haven't done it yet' list.
19. Go ax throwing. I mean, how much fun does that sound?! With a new place in KC, there's really no excuse to not go full Lumber Jane.
20. Take a kickboxing class. Again, sounds like fun and I've said I was going to do it for the longest time.
21. Visit at least one more continent. The ultimate goal is six continents (I have ZERO desire to freeze to death in Antarctica), but that might be a bit too much in a year and a half. Adding one more continent is at least a step toward the goal.
22. Go rock climbing. I'm not so sure I'll be any good at this one, but Maria insisted it needed to be on the list.
23. Learn to use the DSLR (and actually remember it for more than five minutes). I mean, I've gone over it a zillion times, but hasn't stuck yet, unfortunately.
24. Crochet something. Ditto previous statement. My poor grandmother has tried, but I just can't get past chaining. It's pathetic, especially considering how much I knit.
25. Scrapbook the European trip. I keep saving stuff to scrapbook, but need to sit down and do it. That trip was so wild, I need to get it down before I forget it all.
26. Take a Krav Maga class. As many rando creepers as I deal with, I should probably have more butt-kicking skills.
27. Go to an NFL game. I know, I know, I know. I'm disappointed in myself too. How this has slipped through my fingers is beyond me.
28. Finish an entire adult coloring book. I have a pretty good sized stack of them because they are so much fun. But, since they take so much time per page, I have a bunch of books with maybe two or three pages done. Gotta stop the cycle.
29. Explore my city. I've lived in KC for nearly five years and there is so much here that I haven't done, it's kinda pathetic. World War I Museum, here I come. If I happen to move in the next 18 months, this one transfers to wherever I live.
30. Do something that makes an impact. Now, I'm not talking 'be a part of something that makes an impact.' I get to do that all the time though World Revival Church. I'm talking start something that positively influences people. Figure out something crazy and go for it. This is honestly the most terrifying thing on this list. It's not about me. It's about the world at large and putting someone else first. I guess that is what that fancy Bachelor's in Ministry is all about.

I'll share updates on the adventures as they unfold. Wish me luck.

I am curious though. What adventures do you want to accomplish before your next age milestone?

Stuck in Funkytown and Hating It

Normally, I'm a lot more excited about January than I am right now.

I love dreaming up big ideas, setting goals and planning how to make them a reality. Call it the producer in me, but I live for that crap... just not this time around. I mean, it's about three weeks into the month and here I am, still struggling to come up with things.

Goals? Weak at best.

Vision board? Still not set.

30 before 30 list? Hahahaha! Right....

You'd think by now, after about five months of people asking "what's next?" I might have some kind of idea of what that might look like. The cold hard truth is, I don't.

And that is a pretty terrifying thought for a person like me.

I love spontaneity and all, but I really like having at least rough outlines in place or a general direction of motion.

Sitting here, feeling all adrift is the worst. I keep trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with me, but I haven't been able to pinpoint any specific thing as of yet. Maybe it's because I checked off so many bucket list items already. Perhaps the greyness of winter sucked out my motivation. There's that whole part where I've been questioning if I even hear God anymore after that one thing went sideways, so maybe that's the issue. There's also the possibility that I'm just a little chicken who is too scared to think big and outside of the box.

There's a 99.9% chance that the problem is all of the above.

What's interesting to me is how no one seems to have noticed that I haven't really been myself lately. Either I'm a great actress or they just assume I'll snap out of this funk soon enough. I'm hoping the latter is the more accurate guess.

If this seems whiny, I apologize. That is absolutely not my intent. This is just forcing myself to do something other than eat ice cream, read or knit. This is forcing my fingers to rattle of sentences that don't revolve around news of dead bodies or the hot mess blame game that is the government. This is an attempt to fire up that fierce spirit that chases dreams while screaming like a banshee instead of waiting for it to just fall into place for me. It's making myself take a step by acknowledging that I'm in a weird place. The first step toward recovery is admitting there's a problem, right? 

Seeing The Vision Become Reality In 2017

Remember a year ago when everyone was all, 'I hate 2016' and I was like the one person on earth who had a decent year? Here we go with round two. Hot take: 2017 wasn't that bad.

At least for me. 

Pastor Steve said it would be the year of opportunity. Time and time again, I saw opportunities to make dreams come true, and not just the little ones.

About two years ago, I set up a vision board in my room. I drew five things in the short term goals row. They represented getting back into WRSM, graduate, read 50 books in a year, travel to Europe, and write a book. The first four are now complete, and the fifth is in progress. That alone is wild enough to think about, but the way everything went down was more than I could ever imagine with other small goals getting check marks too.

I started a book club with my dear friend Rachelle, and it has grown from six women to about 50 members in our Facebook group. There's also a writing group now that I started with my nerdy friend, Rachel.

I got to work on two shows with WRC that broadcast internationally.

I met Felicia Day and Jim Beaver at Planet Comic Con, resulting in major geek outs.

I got baptized again.

I got to go San Diego Comic Con to interview several celebrities and sit second row for the Outlander panel.

I sat on the Iron Throne and Dragonstone.

I graduated with my second year certificate and Bachelor's degree.

I won my second Emmy.

I was selected for an international fellowship in Germany, where I met so many cool people.

I spent 35 days traveling Europe, knocking a big chunk off my bucket list (i.e. see the beaches of Normandy, filming locations for Game of Thrones, the Berlin Wall, eating donuts under Brandenburg Gate, the Olympic Stadiums in Berlin and London, the Tower of London, Churchill's War Rooms, Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen, Castle Church, Trinity Library, the Mona Lisa, the Eiffel Tower, NATO, the EU.. the list goes on and on.)

I went to German Comic Con Berlin and was in a selfie taken by Finn Jones from Iron Fist and Game of Thrones. (Yes, I'm a huge nerd. Sue me.)

I saw bands including 30 Seconds to Mars, Skillet, Sick Puppies, Muse, PVRIS, X Ambassadors, Borns, Parachute, Switchfoot and probably others I forgot at this point.... plus ballets, plays, and sporting events.

I met amazing new friends and caused many a shenanigan with those already in my life.

I walked through fields of sunflowers, danced in the rain and played in the hail, both literally and figuratively.

It wasn't all easy. 

School was an absolute grind to finish, especially in the summer when two of my six classes alone packed in 32 papers. Not fun.

Also not fun, getting stranded in Hanover, Germany because the weather shut down trains. Really, trains and I had a rough relationship in Europe. Transportation in generally, really... especially when some dude tried to get me to go down a dark street in Paris with him at 3 a.m... Hard pass, bro.

2017 was nothing short of an adventure, and God stretched me quite a bit as the days went by. So many moments were tests in trust, from patience to protection to the big picture. I latched on to Jeremiah 29:11 in Europe, and I've been trying to hold onto that still. Just letting God do His thing is hard, especially when you feel like something is about to change in your life, but you don't know what. Trust isn't easy, but allegedly it will be worth it. I guess we will find out. 

Happy Three-and-a-Half Year Sober-versary To Me!

Here's a crazy thought: I've now spent almost as much time as a legally-able to drink adult off the crazy juice as I did draining bottles.

Wild.

Today marks three and a half years without a sip of alcohol. I stopped writing about it a while back, thinking it a bit silly to keep documenting this part of my journey. Apparently I was wrong. 

The first reason I say that is because of the new clarity that the battle never really ends. Over the last few months, my resolve has been tested time and time again. 

The first big challenge was my international fellowship. Back in the day, my bucket list included drinking beer in Germany, French wine in Paris, Guinness and Jameson in Ireland, etc. Once this amazing trip landed in my lap, I had to deal with the reality of how I was going to handle myself there. I mean, come on. I was in Germany, a country where beer is legitimately cheaper than water most places, and during Oktoberfest, no less! Talk about a challenge! 

Before I left, the organization sent out a preliminary itinerary and seeing a brewery tour on the list was a punch in the gut. I'm not sure why I was surprised, but I was. I met with one of the pastors to run scenarios and try to come up with the best direction. I could argue either side of the issue, as is the tendency of my ENTP personality. While he eventually gave me permission to do the sampling if I was concerned about making a scene in Germany, he asked me one question before letting me leave the office: "What are you going to say when everyone goes to the bar after the tasting?"

Well, snap, crackle and pop. I see what you did there. It would be rather hypocritical to try to pull it both ways. He wanted me to think about it for a couple days and tell him my decision, but I'm a stubborn brat sometimes (ok, a lot of the time), and never did specify. I thought I'd feel it out.

Celebrating Oktoberfest at Alexander Platz.

I was pretty surprised at how supportive the other fellows were when I said I didn't drink. They asked questions, but never pressured me to join them. They were completely fine with me drinking Coke at the bars while they drained steins. During the brewery tasting, I would swirl the amber liquid and smell it like everyone else, then pass my glass to my buddy, Ben, and he'd drink it. We both won.

However, not everyone was so chill. The program director repeatedly tried to pressure me into drinking. It was never a subtle thing, either. From his inability to hide his disgust that I wasn't sampling the beer and asked to not be in pictures with it (so no one got the wrong idea), to constantly insisting that I allow him to buy me a drink, to blathering on that a sip wouldn't hurt, it got pretty uncomfortable. Again, my amazing fellows supported me and tried to divert the attention.

I can't tell you how many times I thought about caving overseas. It's not like anyone would know unless I told them, but I still could not bring myself to follow through. Deep down, I knew that God took that piece away from me for a reason. He set me apart with a purpose, even if that is just explaining how powerful and good He is.

Which brings me to the second reason I'm writing about my sobriety today: not everyone knows my story. I mean, there were 13 other fellows on that trip, plus three people from the organization, and countless contacts throughout those three weeks. They didn't all ask why I was sipping water at the same time. It was a continual retelling of my story and what God did for me to save me from my own stupidity. 

The whole "I'm in ministry school and it's not allowed" answer worked well enough for some. Others could tell there is more to the story and that gave me an opening to share my heart. Even yesterday, one of my newer co-workers asked if I was an alcoholic, so it gave me the chance to say no, it's a way of being obedient to God.

Once people know your story, they help you stick with it. I can't tell you how many times of late I typed the words "I want a drink." Life's been tough. Fortunately for me, I have sober buddies who don't hesitate to call me out. One guy is always supportive on that front. I really have zero business talking to him anymore, period, but sober support is what started our wacky friendship (after this post). He knows more than anyone else what it's like to not drink in our line of work, since he's a little further down the road than me. 

It's just another reminder that the battle isn't over just because you hit a milestone. He's at six years and still celebrates the markers.

Another of my friends fell off the wagon. I could have easily been me, especially lately. Being done with ministry school took the safety net away. I don't have that excuse anymore. I don't have a rule holding me back. It's now all on me. 

The last couple weeks have really tested that thought. It's a weird shift from being half my decision/ half rule, to this is all on my discernment now, especially when you're emotionally drained and hurting. It would be so easy to numb the world with alcohol, but who would I be on the other side of that bottle? Most likely, a person who holds a lot less respect and has less of a voice worth listening to.

So, today, I'm marking a milestone because daggum, the road is rocky and every step forward is a victory. It's not a win because of my own strength, but the Holy Spirit holding that valve closed for me and reminding me of those faces when I'm on the edge. Jesus is the victory.

The Frustration of Heading Back Into The Wilderness

Ever feel like you are standing near the top of a mountain with your promised land in view, but you're so busy staring at it excitedly that you trip over a loose root, tumble back down only to land in the wilderness again? That is kinda how I feel right now.

Without going into details, I thought things had finally lined up for a major long-term goal in my life and I was elated. My mind raced through scenarios, hopes, dreams and plans.

Let's be real, I got carried away with what I wanted and how it fit into my timeline. I've never been a patient person. My see-it-want-it-go-get-it personality is great for my day job, but it doesn't translate well into real life. This was one of those many times where my personality backfired and cost me the thing I desired.

Honestly, the past few days have been insanely painful. I know the worst isn't over. There will absolutely be more tears in the days, weeks and months ahead. I hate crying, and admitting to doing it frequently is basically the worst.

But I know that I played a role in falling back down into the wilderness. How? I let myself get distracted and consumed by the almost instead of keeping up with what other things God has cooking.

There have been a few projects I've felt like I was supposed to start for a while. When the one dream started coming into view, that became my focus. Even though I felt like I should work on other things, I sacrificed them for what I thought was the big dream. I even missed church a few times to sleep because I was involved in the other project too late, and there haven't been many posts here despite having thoughts to share.

God can't bless that kind of behavior. He withdraws His hand of protection from rebellious kids and that's when attacks come and life crumbles around you. It's an unfortunate reality, but one we as humans tend to forget so easily.

One thing that's been so perfectly timed in the past couple days is my book club. My partner picked the list in January, and it has been on the spot every single time. This month, we are reading "Eat. Pray. Hustle." by Havilah Cunnington, which is a study on Abraham and dream chasing. I'm only about halfway through it, but daggum is it hitting hard!

Abraham waited decades for his promise to come to fruition. He had his days of doubt, but he trusted God's promise and kept going. He wandered around as a nomad without his own heir for years because God promised him the land and a son. He kept going even when it seemed more impossible as time went on. Eventually, God came through and Abraham saw his dream become reality.

As if I needed more verification to be patient, Pastor Kathy hit on it during offering about 24 hours after my plans crumbled. She referenced Hebrews 11:11, which says, "It was by faith that even Sarah was able to have a child, though she was barren and was too old. She believed that God would keep his promise." I only heard the last part of the verse in that moment (I was too busy picking my jaw up off the floor from the 11s, which played a role in the aforementioned plan that fell apart), but that little piece was enough. Sarah believed God would keep his promise.

As I was beginning to write this, my book club partner tagged me in a video from Havilah about why things don't happen in your life. The number one reason: it isn't time. It's so easy to fall into the Christianese of God is timeless and His plans don't follow our timelines, but it is much harder to walk out in reality, especially when it's something you want. Havilah said she would have told 10-years-ago-Havilah to invest in herself in the meantime to get closer to the goal.

Abraham and Sarah believed God, even when they were wandering in the middle of nowhere. The children of Israel spent 40 years in the wilderness getting their act together before they could enter the Promised Land even though they were making laps around it. David spent time in a cave before he became king. They didn't give up, and it took more time than I've been alive for two of those three things to happen.

So, here we go: another lap in the wilderness, starting with creating a 30 before 30 list! If you have any ideas, help a girl out and let me know. I'll post the final plan in a few weeks when I hit my half birthday.