35th

I had a classmate tell me yesterday that she and her husband were/are celebrating their 34th wedding anniversary today (Congrats!) and the best part is that they still like each other.  The past 3 days I have spent a lot of time with the Keokuk Class of 81 and guess what, after 35 years we still like each other, too!

From the parade on Thursday, to the football game and gatherings on Friday, to the meal and music on Saturday night, it was a fantastic Reunion.  It took some doing to find us a place to hold our reunion, since apparently even Keokuk has a lively social scene on Homecoming weekend, but now I can't imagine having had the event any other way than how it all unfolded.

I mean, really..... it rained, poured and flooded, during the early morning hours of  Thursday.  I kept watching the clouds out of my office window all day, hoping and praying that the rain wouldn't ruin the parade.  But Mother Nature and the sun teamed up in time, just for us I am sure!, with clear blue skies and ample sunshine for that parade.  The streets were dry for walkers and we handled the hills and long walk like pros!  (Pros at what I'm not quite sure, but at something good I know!)  Day one was a rousing success!

Friday showed up with textbook football weather.  Brrrrr.  I'm sure our friends and classmates from the South were in a bit of shock.  There was no weather watching out my windows on Friday.  There was clock watching on Friday instead.  There were places to go, things to do, people to see!  Friday afternoon freedom from work is always fun anyway, but when there is an impromptu class gathering at The Cellar to get to, the fun factor ramps right up there!  Good times.  :)

The game.  Sigh.  What can I say about that game, except that, as a blessing, I was too busy talking to pay attention when most of those points were scored by that other team!  Thank you classmates for that!  I got to sit in the stands, where I have watched football games for 40 years, surrounded by people who I've known for just as long, and watch my son the senior, sing the National Anthem, play in, and help to direct the marching band.  Very good times.   :)

And, I am completely convinced that the good folks at Dr. Getwells set up their buy-one get-one free deal just for us after the game!  Another impromptu gathering that included lots of laughter and fun and talking.  The Reunion Good Time Gods were most certainly smiling on us!

Saturday... Well, Iowa won!  I got some most excellent pictures of that senior on his way to the Homecoming Dance, and then it was Reunion Time! The laughs started right off the bat.... Jim and Georgette's discussion during the picture taking was hilarious!.... and continued on from there.  Did you see all of us who were there??  Isn't that awesome?!  Some of us never change and some of us I didn't recognize one bit.  And while change is good, we are so very blessed that even tho we physically change, we are still the same amazing, wonderful, good, caring "sexy and fun" class of 81. Granted I obviously didn't hear every conversation that went on over the past 3 days, but I didn't hear negativity.  I didn't hear bad or hurtful or mean.  I heard laughter and saw hugs.  I saw people who, after 35 years, still like each other enough to gather together and enjoy each other's company.  While we most definitely ARE Sexy and Fun!, we are also an amazing group of people who have a special bond, some intangible link that slides through us like the waters of the Mississippi slides through it's banks, gathering us "home" every 5 years or so to be complete.  We are blessed.

The 35th Reunion is in the books.  And in pictures and memories and in my aching knees  (Keeping up with Todd, Renita, and Carol on the dance floor was a daunting task!)  My class ring will go back into my jewelry box for another 5 years or so.  Thank you all who traveled to be here this weekend.  For those of us who live "at home" that means a lot... that you took time out of your lives to be here.  For those of you who worked so hard to make this all happen, thank you.  We had a great time thanks to your hard work.  For everyone who attended any part of the festivities, thank you.  Things were exactly as they were because you were there.  And things were amazing.

The Wonder of Size 8

Just in case you forgot, this is where I started:

Even now I am not going to tell you what I weighed in that picture.  Suffice it to say that it was enough to count me as morbidly obese.  I was fortunate that I was as healthy as I was at that size.  No diabetes.  No heart problems.  No high blood pressure.  "Just" all those extra pounds.  I survived cancer.  Had a good portion of my thyroid removed.  Had that pesky gallbladder taken out.  Then there was that nasty hysterectomy.  Nothing like a few medical issues to help you gain weight.  (Side note:  Did you  know that they tend to mix appetite enhancers into chemo and other cancer meds?  It's supposed to help cancer patients keep their appetite through treatments.  I'm pretty sure that I didn't need that help.  I am probably one of the only people you will meet who actually gained weight going through cancer treatments.)  Throw in some personal upheavals and viola! you have the above picture.

Over the years I had manged to lose weight.  I lost 50+ pounds through Weight Watchers once.  Obviously I gained that, plus more, back.  I think that I joined Weight Watchers 4 or 5 times.  I weighed more every time that I joined.   It's a good plan.  If you can stick to it.  I couldn't stick to it.

Occasionally I would manage to lose some weight through my own hard work.  That didn't stick either.  I was a stress eater.  The more stress, the more I would eat.  Which would increase the stress, which would cause me to eat more, which, well, you get it.  Bad situation.

So, even "just" the extra pounds started to get to me.  I just plain couldn't do things.  Like wear normal clothing.  Or play with my grandkids.  Or be comfortable sitting in seats at events.  Or do a lot of normal, every day things.  I had to do something.

I know a lady who is kind of my hero.  She doesn't know that... until maybe now.  This lady had horrible health problems.  She was in even worse shape than I was weight wise.  But she took a huge leap of faith and started a journey that changed her life.  I remember getting a phone call from her one day, asking me to pray for her, because she was going to do something that she was a little scared of doing, but that she had to do.   So, I prayed and I watched her journey and her absolutely amazing transformation into an energetic, vibrant, happy ...  and much thinner... woman.  I am so happy for her and proud of her and what she has done for herself!

I knew a couple of other people who had changed their lives.  Complete changes.  Changed their eating habits, their mentality of food and life, improved their health, which in turn improved their happiness.  Their energy levels were up, their faces were always smiling, and they had lost or were losing great amounts of weight.

That's what I wanted.  I wanted to be able to go up and down my stairs without gasping for breath.  I wanted to be able to sit on the floor and play with my grand kids.  I wanted to lose weight and be healthy.  When you have as much weight to lose as I did, you have to take some drastic steps.  Steps that get the weight off, that keep it off, that change your whole outlook on food and life and health.  I decided to start stepping.

My first step was to visit a doctor.  And start a journey towards weight loss surgery.  Now, if you have pre-conceived ideas about how bad weight loss surgery is, please just stop reading now.  This is my story, my journey, and my blog.  Negativity is not allowed here.

For 6 months I was on a doctor monitored diet and exercise program.  I met with a nutritionist, and a psychiatrist.  I had to learn healthy eating habits, give up unhealthy foods and drinks, and re-learn how to eat.  I lost 35 lbs in 6 months.  Then, I met with a surgeon.  Then I waited for insurance approval.    Here is what I looked like after the 35 lbs were gone, but hadn't had surgery yet.

Once the insurance company was satisfied that I had done what I was supposed to do, and that they might not be wasting their money by approving surgery for me, I was finally able to schedule surgery.  We are now 8 months past the beginning of this journey.  That last, big, scary step was scheduled for Jan 19th, 2015.

My last, big, scary step was to have gastric sleeve surgery.  That is not bypass surgery.  The gastric sleeve surgery is a procedure where they actually remove 75 to 80% of your stomach.  That leaves the ability to absorb nutrients, so there aren't the supplements needed that are needed after a bypass surgery.  

I dropped 20 lbs. the first week after surgery.  I went back to work a week and a half after surgery.  I gave up caffeine and my beloved Diet Pepsi.  I gave up sugar and carbs.  I ate and drank protein in any form I could get it.  I changed my diet completely.  I changed my thoughts about food.  I changed my life.  I lost weight and I lost weight.  I started being able to eat real food again.  I ate, but I read labels and compared nutritional values.  My cravings for sugary foods, for Diet Pepsi, for carbs was gone.  That surgery, with that sudden stop in letting me eat bad things, changed me.  It gave me the tool, the opportunity, to change and to stay on track.

This is size 12.  I honestly thought I wouldn't lose any more.  I couldn't fathom that I was even a size 12!

By the time that I was able to eat whatever I wanted to again (because yes, with this surgery, eventually you can eat whatever you want to) I didn't want to eat the things that made me gain all of that weight in the first place!  Do I eat a lot of things?  You bet I do!  I occasionally have pizza.  I ate a tiny piece of cheesecake and part of a cupcake at our Christmas party last night.  But here's the thing... today, I don't want more cheesecake or another cupcake!  I don't crave them anymore.  And, even if I did... I like my size 8 jeans too much to go back to size 26!!!!  I have my tool... my surgery... to help me to be healthy and I intend to use it!  This was much more than a weight loss surgery.  It was a complete change in life habits.  It may not work for everyone, but it has done wonderful things for me!  My size 8 jeans are proof of that!

I truly don't know if I will lose more weight.  My original weight goal is still 9 lbs away.  But I will be ok if I don't get there.  I am beyond thrilled with where I am right now.  I darn near slept in the size 8 jeans when I was able to get them on!  Shopping for clothes is fun again.  So is playing with grandkids.  Food is not in control any more.  I am.  And I like it this way.

A lot can happen in 9 years

August 2006.  We were living in Clarion, IA.  We hadn't lived there long and didn't know a whole lot of people, but the boys were spending the summer enjoying the pool and making friends.  I had just finished up a 3 month temporary job and was getting ready for the school to start for the boys.  It was hot and dry and man o man is it flat up in those parts of Iowa.

Then, I found a lump in my breast.  You know how you "know" something even though you don't really know?  I knew.

I made an appointment with a doctor in town.  I had no idea what to expect.  Clarion is a little bit of a town, about 3000 people, but the hospital was new and the people there were extraordinarily friendly.

I saw the doctor, who was/is an absolutely amazingly wonderful doctor (and who helped to get me through an awful lot of health issues in a relatively short period of time!).  After her exam, I was scheduled for a mammogram the following day.

I went in for my mammogram early on a Tuesday.  It was meet the teacher night at school for the boys.  School started the following day.  The boys were with a sitter and planned on spending as much time as possible swimming on their last day of summer vacation.

I had my mammogram.  Followed directly by an ultrasound.  Which was followed by a conversation with the radiologist, as I sat on the exam bed with the technician beside me rubbing my back.  The radiologist sat in front of me and told me that he was 99.9% sure that I had cancer, that they would have to prove to him that it wasn't.

After our conversation, the radiologist walked down the hall and talked to the surgeon, who agreed to see  me right then and there.  The surgeon wasted no time and was willing to do surgery as soon as the next day.  But school was starting the next day and it was just the boys and I in town right then.  We put surgery off until Friday.

As soon as we had the surgery scheduled, the surgeon got ahold of the original doctor that I saw, then he walked me over to her office so that I could have my pre op physical.  When I was finished with the physical, I went back to talk to the surgeon some more.  And when we were finished, the surgeon walked me out to my car, because he was concerned about me driving home alone.  (I had maybe 6 or 7 blocks to drive.)

I found out that I had cancer while living in a tiny little town on the flatlands of Iowa.  A town with an award winning hospital, complete with a surgeon, an oncologist who came to town, and almost everything that I needed to complete cancer treatments right there.  I didn't have to wait to find out results of anything.  The doctors went over and above, communicated directly and honestly, and got me into treatment in a speed that amazes me to this day.

5 days after surgery I got the pathology report that it was indeed cancer.  6 days after surgery I saw the oncologist for the first time.  14 days after the original surgery, I had a 2nd surgery to remove more tissue, lymph nodes and insert a port for chemo.  Less than a month after my mammogram I was receiving chemo.

I received 2 different, harsh, brutal regimes of chemo.  I lost my hair, I looked like death warmed over (I was once asked if I was Jonah's grandma), the boys probably lived on frozen dinners and cereal (I don't really remember), but I survived!  We all survived.

I had part of my thyroid removed 2 weeks after my last chemo treatment.  ( Fortunately, those nodules were not cancerous)  Then I went for 7 weeks of radiation.  I did have to drive 45 minutes one way, 5 days a week, for one minute of radiation.  I was pretty darn tired by then.  I do remember that.

But, I survived.  They had found cancer in one lymph node in my chest wall.  You will never convince me that the fast actions of the doctors in that small town hospital helped to save my life.  The mass that they took out of my breast was the size of a good sized orange.  One day it was just there.  I would have noticed that.  It was a fast growing cancer.

Had I had to wait to get a mammogram, or an ultrasound, had I had to schedule an appointment with a surgeon and wait to get to see him, had I had to wait to get a pre-op physical, I might not be here now.  Had I had to wait to get into an oncologist or wait on the 2nd surgery or wait on any number of things that just seemed to fall into place for me, I might not be here today.

But, I did not have to wait.  I was treated and taken care of and cured.  9 years later, here I am.

Why is 9 years important?  Because, with the birth of grandchild #3 this past week, it made me think of all that I might have missed in the past 9 years had not those doctors gone above and beyond to take care of me.  Think of the things that you might have missed over the past 9 years.  Here are just some of the things that I might have missed:

Eric and Candice getting married
Amber and Dustin getting married
Amy and Christopher getting married
Jordan graduating from high school.
Amy graduation from college
Amber being CNA of the year
Jonah being Jonah
Grandchildren  #'s 1, 2, & 3 all being born.
I would have missed showchoir and band and choir and plays and musicals and speech events.
I would have missed seeing Eric get baptized
I would have missed wine on the patio with my mom
I would have missed Omaha with Peg on our 5 year survival anniversary (Thats a whole 'nother story)
I would have missed sunsets and holidays and "firsts" of all kinds
I would have missed Colorado and Oregon and clam chowder cook offs and oysters for breakfast.
I would have missed seeing family and friends
I would have missed that crazy golfcart ride, with my giggling brother, through the Oregon woods
I would have missed dancing
I would have missed life.


I would have missed out on getting pretty darn healthy, for the first time in way too many years. After losing now more than 110 lbs (Yes, you read that right), I am able to really play with my grandkids.  I can move mattresses.  I can do things that I haven't been able to do since before cancer.  Since before I had cancer, then thyroid surgery, then gall bladder surgery, then a hysterectomy, then, well you get the picture.  Too many health issues in too short of a time.  But, I survived.  And finally, finally now, 9 years later I am truly starting to feel healthy again.  As my oncologist told me 2 days ago, I am now a "boring" patient!  Do you know how wonderful it feels to be qualified as "boring" in the big, bad world of cancer???!!!!  It feels fabulous!!!  I feel fabulous!

A lot did happen to me in 9 years.  Thank God.  If nothing had happened to me in 9 years, it would have been because I wasn't here.   But God put me in the perfect place at the time that I needed to be in a perfect place the most in my life.  I survived.  And I cannot wait to see what the future holds in store for me!  Bring it on!

The Gauntlet

Yesterday I had the occasion to drive through a small town.  A little town.  With a square in the center. With one, small grocery store, a tiny branch of a bank, 2 gas stations, a pizza place, a Catholic church, and, of course, a grain elevator.  Around the square are bars (several), a bowling alley (small), and several empty buildings shouting about a busy past.  I have had, over the years, many, many occasions to drive through or to this little town.  I've been there for wedding receptions, festivals, to fill up with gas, to eat pizza.  I've been to a few of the bars in that town, visited people in that town, been to a wedding and a funeral in that town.  I do believe that I have even been bowling in the (small) bowling alley.  It's a fairly lively place, as small towns go.

At Festival time, the town is chock full of people.  People spilling out of the bars around the square to watch the Festival festivities in the square.  People crowding the square to eat, gossip, ride carnival rides, and to be festive. People come from all over the area to the Festival.  It is a Big small town event!

These days, when I have occasion to go to that town, it is to simply drive in from the south, turn right at the 2nd stop sign, go 2 blocks, turn left, and drive on out of town to the north.  Coming home, I do the reverse.  The only reason that I have to stop is the stop signs in that town.  Unless I have to stop at the gas station, I simply pass right on through.  It's an easy-peasy, stop and go, drive through town.

Except for yesterday.  Coming in from the south, as the houses start to accumulate at the edge of town, there was traffic.  A lot of traffic for a small town.  Cars parked on both sides of the road for blocks and blocks at the road going into a little sub-division type area.  It looked like a small town auction scenario to me.  I figured that I would drive past the action and have my easy-peasy time the rest of the way through town. 

I carefully maneuvered my car through the traffic .... and through the hoards of people (hoards for a small town!) walking from their cars to the area of activity.  I thought that I had it made.  But, once I got through the throngs of bodies and vehicles, I saw it.  As far into the little town as I could see, there were people.  And cars.  And pick ups.  And... Yard Sales.  City wide Yard Sales.  On every street, on lawn after lawn, in garage after garage, there were boundless treasures to be had!  There were people running ..... yes!  really running! ... to get to cardboard boxes of someone else's discarded goods.  There were people pawing through tables piled high with old clothing, books, toys, and so on and so on and so on.  Babies in strollers, hidden behind the bags of treasures that a parent had scored.  Kids pulling wagons full of goodies to take home to Mom.  Men struggling under the weight of the items that needed to get to the back of their pick ups.  Women stuffing more and more into the trunks of their cars. 

I avoided a man carrying a dining room type chair as he walked out in front of me.  He couldn't see for the boxes stacked on top of the chair, topped with about to topple bags,  and hindering his view.

I didn't get hit by the pick up that backed out in front of me.  They couldn't see for the obscene amount of items in the bed of the truck.

The lady with the arms full of clothing ... that looked rather like she was trying to contain a flock of octopus ...  stopped before she walked smack into the side of my car.

The kids on bikes, pulling a wagon full of something that looked like their mother should ban it from entering her home, decided to ride behind, rather than directly in front of, my car, thusly avoiding a collision of a very bad kind.

It was a struggle, a driving feat that Mr Jones and Mr Peters, those long ago driving instructors, would have been proud of.  I did not hit a single item, person, or vehicle while trying to get out of there without incident! 

It took a couple of miles out of town to the north before the sales stopped and the traffic eased back to normal, rural Iowa traffic.  Whew. 

But, I had to go home.  I thought and thought.  If I went one way or another, it was a long way out of my way.  And, there were going to be Grandkids waiting when I got home.  Did I dare to attempt a drive through that town again?  Or did I venture way out of my way and take precious time away from Grandkids??  Such a choice!

By the time I was headed home, I figured that the crowds would have thinned out.  The good stuff would have been picked over and people would have gone home with their trash turned to treasure!  It wasn't a long time between my trips through town, at most an hour, but true garage/yard sale experts know that the early bird gets the best treasures.  I bolstered my defenses with a protein bar and a bottle of water and decided to take my chances and brave the little town again.

It was ok going in from the north.  Not too bad getting to the intersection where the gas station is.  But, as soon as I turned that corner, I sighed.  If possible, it was worse!  There were groups, mobs even, of people absolutely everywhere! 

It took a good long while to manage to make the turn off of the area around the square.  I couldn't get through the pedestrians.

I drove a pace slower than a crawl to get to the first stop sign. 

 I could see the light at the end of the Yard Sale tunnel.  It was a straight shot out of town.  Yes, there were a good many sales going on between where I sat at the stop sign and the edge of town where I would reach the relative safety of the open road.  But there was hope!

I took a deep breath, took my foot off of the brake, and let me car idle through the intersection.  Success!

I ever so slowly eased my car down the street.  Most of the people were walking on the sidewalks now (smart, smart people).  A few would cross the streets, but they looked!  It seemed like I was going to make it!

I was almost to the last group of sales.  Cars and trucks lined both sides of the street.  There were no longer sidewalks for people to walk on.  In front of me was a pick up, hauling a big, big boat.  (A braver driver than me, for sure!)  I glanced up to mark our progress and gasped.  On the other side of the car lined section of street was a school bus.  Heading towards us.  No way was that school bus and that boat going to be able to pass each other in that section of the street.  I stopped where I was.  I had no where to turn, but there was nothing behind me.  I could always back up or find a driveway to turn around in, right? 

The bus stopped.  The boat stopped.  Sizing each other up.  And then, they both started to slowly advance.  Really????  I didn't move.  Slowly, ever so slowly, they wiggled and eased and inched their way past each other.  Amazing!  No way did I think that was possible!  (Which is why I don't drive a school bus or pull a boat!) 

I started forward again.  If those guys could make it through, well then, so could I!  I was almost there.  Almost out of town.  When yet another pick up. laden with wares, backed out in front of me.  I wasn't moving fast enough to not be able to stop, so I stopped, again.  And gazed in awe at the cargo in the bed of that truck.  Colors of every hue of things of every nature!  Furniture, clothing, knick knacks and what nots!  Standing tall and proud, in the middle of that mess, a perpetual smile on his plastic face, was Santa Claus!  He was emerging from the jumble, one hand raised in a holiday happy greeting!   It was like a giant thumbs up!  "You made it" that wave said! " Merry early Christmas", that smile said!  Or maybe he was trying to get my attention in desperation, so that he could be saved from the assorted stuff that he was half buried in. 

I followed poor Santa out of town to the first gravel road to the left.  The last that I saw of him, he was being enveloped in a giant cloud of dust, as the pickup sped up and rounded a curve.  He was still smiling and waving him the last little glance that I had of him.   I hope that he has found a home where his holiday cheer will be well appreciated.  Poor, poor Santa.

Now, I have been to a few garage/yard sales in my day.  I have found some truly wonderful things;  bolstered my craft supply, augmented my wardrobe, clothed my children, gotten some very good deals and things.  I love garage/yard sales!

But never, ever have I seen the crowds, the actions, the seemingly crazed emotions of the people in that little town.  I am probably forever scarred where Santa is concerned.  I will never be able to look at an octopus without seeing the face of that lady with those clothes in her clutches.  Kids on bikes will forever give me the shivers if they come at me like a flock of wild animals.  I may faint at the image of a pick up truck backing out in front of me.   And I will do my utmost best to remember that early June is a bad, bad time to drive through that little town on a Saturday morning.

I survived though!   It rather felt like having to survive the gauntlet to get to the prize of being able to get home, to play with the grandkids and enjoy the day.  That was my prize at the end of struggle!  It was well worth the trouble of getting back through that town.   Even though, if I had it to do again, I would take the long way home. 

Infrequently

Soooooo...... I have turned into an infrequent blogger.  Perhaps because I too frequently have to do other things.  Which doesn't always make me giddy with joy!  I like blogging.  I like writing.   And I have no one to blame but myself for not popping up with new blogged posts more often.   My getting up there in years, oft times over-worked brain, tends to limp into the ends of days more often lagging in blogging ideas than not.  My thoughts race towards nagging life details like paying bills, juggling work schedules with children's activities, whose turn it is to take the trash out or unload the dishwasher.  Things like, how in the world did scraggly pet hair manage to find it's way into the closed dresser drawer and attach itself, Velcro-like, to the only clean pair of dark pants that I have?  Or, why in the world are the ice cube trays in the freezer empty.... AGAIN!!???  

My creative thoughts peer longingly at the oodles and oodles (and oodles and oodles!!!) of material, ribbons, buttons, and various other assortments of creativity, that peek tantalizingly back from their bags, boxes, and totes.  They blatantly stare at the partially finished projects, the bottles of paints, Modge Podge, stencils, papers, flowers, jars, vases, and so on and so on and so on.  My sewing machine sits forlornly in the corner, bravely waving a straggling end of bright purple thread in hopes of being used.  Every night, when I shut the lights out, ending another day, another chance at freeing the creativity locked away in my room, there is a collective "sigh" of disappointment resounding from the oodles and oodles (and oodles and oodles) of unused supplies.   Sigh.  Sigh.  Sigh.

An infrequent blogger.  An infrequent crafter.  But a frequent worker am I.  Down to 2 jobs for the summer though, so perhaps, just perhaps, there is hope for the blogging and the crafting, and for me to set free some of the creativity that is just aching to be set free!  Set free to write, to paint, to sew, to make things!  Perhaps.

And perhaps I can find the time this summer to do more pastimes that I so thoroughly enjoy, and so infrequently do any longer.  Like go fishing!  I remember fishing for almost as long as I can remember things.  (I also remember hooking my brother in the forehead with a hook.  So sorry Lee!)  Fishing in Canada. Fishing in lakes and ponds and rivers.  Fishing early in the day when the steam rolls off the water as the sun rises.  Fishing in the heat of the day, when the fish hide in the shade of the trees.  Fishing in the evening as the breeze dies down and the water turns to glass.  Fishing in the dark of the night, with a fire and friends and laughter.  I miss fishing!  Again, I have no one to blame by myself for my drought of fishing expeditions.  I have not dipped a line in the water in more than 4 years!  That is a catastrophe of epic-like proportions!  How can I have failed myself so greatly?!  Shame on me! 

Perhaps I will indulge in a bout of creativity and a fishing outing.  Perhaps I can give life to both my sewing machine and to my fishing pole.  Be still my heart at just the thought! 

But, for now, the lights will dim, the purple thread will trail forlornly to the base of the sewing machine, the oodles and oodles (and oodles and oodles) of crafting supplies will gather a bit more dust, and the fishing pole will droop a little lower in the closet.  The lights will go dim for the night and a sigh will arise from the infrequently used.

There is hope, though.  After all, I am posting on this blog .................

Leave it to me...

Leave it to me to agree to work the first weekend in eons that it warms up into the 60's.  Stuck inside all day and too tired to enjoy it when I get home.

Leave it to me, in the same vein of thought, to agree to work the weekend of the darn time change, when we lost an hour of sleep.  See above thought about being tired....

Leave it to me.


So.........  I came home and sat down to eat my first meal of the day... yes, after work... it was too busy at work to take time to eat.  Anyway, I ate and thought about how much I would really, really like to take a nap.  I put on some pj pants and a bleach-stained sweatshirt (You would think that I was ready for a trip to Hell wouldn't you.  "Hell" in this house means WalMart).  I could literally hear my bed and pillows and blankets calling me to come snuggle up and catch some zzzzz's.  (Hmmmm.. maybe not literally).   But, after me working the weekend,  and having teenagers in and out of the house all weekend, there were dishes in the sink, laundry to do, and so on.  Sigh.   I loaded the dishwasher, started some laundry.  And then... I vacuumed and shampooed the carpet in the downstairs hallway.   Then the teenagers started coming home again and now it's too late to take a nap.  There is so much to do!!!!


Those darn house cleaning fairies that were supposed to show up way back during my cancer treatment days never have found their way to my house!  I can only hope that whoever's house they are hanging out at are enjoying their services!  :)   If you see them, please remind them that they were supposed to be at my beck and call about 8 years ago!  They owe me big time!  I would have time for a nap if they were here.  Sigh.


Anyhow,  the weather has warmed up, even tho I'm not out enjoying it.  Work is good and I like all of my jobs.  The house work.. eh.. it will get done.  Or not.  As for a nap, I will just go to bed early.  I am good at that!

So....


Leave it to me if you want to, but ..... Life is busy and so am I.  You can leave it to me.  Just be warned that if you do, it might not get done!   

Warmth of the heart

Winchester... who we call Chester.
 

 

 

I am sure that I am in good company in saying that I am tired of snow and ice, cold and wind.... of Winter.  I click on the link to the weather updates numerous times a day, hoping, praying, begging for a forecast of warm weather and sunshine.   The last few days have been rough, weather-wise, with plenty of snow and cold and ice and icky ol' winter weather.  But now, at least until the forecast changes, there is hope, the promise of Spring and warmth.  Now I click on that link praying that it DOESN'T change.  That the weather man got it right this time and that there truly will be an end to winter.  I know that there will be Spring, that winter will end and in a few months we will all be complaining about the heat.  Because that is the way that it always is.  :)

This morning there was ice.  Ice everywhere!  The dogs and I walked out on the front porch and since they were dogs, they hadn't been relentlessly stalking the weather sites looking for updates.  So they didn't know that there was ice out there.  Buddy did ok, but poor old Chester barreled out the door and went as fast as his old, arthritic legs would take him, to the steps.  And then he hit the ice.  He slid and tumbled and fell down the steps.  He landed in snow, and he was up and doing his business in no time.  But tonight he sits at the bottom of the stairs to go upstairs, looking longingly up to where he knows that his bed is at the top of the stairs.  His sore joints aren't going up those stairs tonight. 

And that presents a problem.  I will either have to carry Chester up the stairs, or I will have sleep downstairs.  A few weeks ago I was gone for a couple of nights.  The boys were here, but I was gone.  Chester barked all night long.  I was gone.  One night after I got home, I had gone upstairs to bed when he was asleep downstairs and he didn't know that I had gone upstairs.  He sleeps very, very soundly in his old age, does my Chester.  He used to bark at knocks on the door or noises outside.  Now he sleeps through most everything.  His hearing isn't so good and he sleeps the sleep of the old and weary.  That night, when he didn't know that I had gone upstairs, he barked when he woke up.  He barked and he barked.  He couldn't hear me calling for him from upstairs.  He didn't hear me coming down the stairs.  But he felt me pat his back and he stopped barking.  He followed me upstairs to his bed where he guards us from intruders who might wander up our stairs.  He slept in quiet peacefulness.

Tonight, if Chester is downstairs and I am upstairs, Chester will bark.  He will not be peaceful, and none of the rest of us will sleep.  His distress at not being upstairs with all of us together would be heartbreaking.  He will sleep with just me downstairs with him, but he will not sleep downstairs alone. ( Buddy and the cats don't count here. Chester is a people dog.)  Chester and I will make a night of camping out tonight.  He will sleep on his downstairs bed and I will sleep on the daybed.  Unless he forces his aching bones to carry him upstairs on his own.   He might.  And that fighting spirit is what has kept that precious dog alive for all of these years.  Through owners that abandoned him, through fending for himself for a year and a half, through being shot,  through being in a kennel at the humane society... he survived.  I am sure that Chester will handle aching joints and  a set of stairs.  But he won't handle being left to sleep alone.  He deserves to not sleep alone.  So he will have company.

I will keep clicking on that link to watch the weather forecast.  I will be praying for sunshine and warmth.  Because one of my very favorite things to do is to sit on the patio and watch Chester in the sunshine, in the grass.  He lays on this back, with those aching legs raised to the heat of the sun and wiggles and scratches his back, waggling his body back and forth.  He will lie in the sun, absorbing the heat into his joints and bones.  He used to spend hours and hours in the sunshine, content with his own company.  Starting last year, he only wants to enjoy the sunshine when he has company outside.  Chester deserves company.  And sunshine.  And warmth for his bones and his heart.   I can give him the warmth in his heart.  I will pray that he gets the sunshine warmth, that we are all wishing for, soon.