Sugarbush Road

Child Labor!

2011-09-04T23:06:00.000-07:00

I was at Cassie's the other day, and looked up to see the children standing on the counters, wiping down the cupboard doors. They were so proud of themselves. Of course, Cassie and I were only inches away.
This looks like Erica. Or it could be Megan. Either way. . .

StandOff

2011-08-09T07:54:00.000-07:00

My neighbor's cat
Sits on the fence
Watching my little brown dog.

My little brown dog
Sits on the porch
Watching the neighbor's cat.

The cat waits.
The dog waits.
Hypervigilant,
Each watching for the other to weaken
And make the move that would justify
Attack.

The air is soft and lush
Blackberry brambles camouflage the cat
My little dog sits so still,
She scarcely breathes.
They wait.

Stand off.

I get scared

2011-08-02T23:08:00.000-07:00

When I contemplate how old I am, and how old my parents were at their deaths, I find myself frightened. Will I develop Alzheimer's? Will my heart give out? I am not ready to go, and I am afraid of dying. Or will medical science keep me alive long past any possible usefulness? Will I end up alone in a nursing home? Will I be alone?

My friend's father passed away about a week ago. Thinking about his death and attending his funeral, have caused me to think about my own mortality.

I remember figuring out hold I would be when the new millenium happened. I remember thinking I would be so old that nothing would matter to me anymore.

Being alone is awful. There are days when I never speak to another person. My whole social interaction is restricted to Dr Phil and my best friends on The Talk. I never wanted to live alone. I never had a great urge to get away from home and living alone. I still don't like it. It wasn't so bad when I was working. My daughter and son don't understand how difficult this is. They are young and busy with their families. To them, days alone may sound wonderful. The reality is much different.

I know I'm in a downward spiral. Wish I knew how to stop it.

Muffins with Moms

2011-05-06T13:40:00.000-07:00

The PTA at Jack's school had a special Mother's Day celebration this morning. They called it Muffins With Mom. It was held in the school library; muffins and fruit and sweet pastries were served along with orange juice and coffee. Since Jack's mom could not attend, I was invited. It was a very nice event; I think the PTA did a nice job of putting it together. Someone told me they have been doing it for years, which is no doubt why it was so smoothly organized. We also had a free picture taken. You can see it here somewhere if I can upload it correctly.

I don't know why, but photographers never snap me as I see myself: tall and slender. The last time I had my driver's license photo updated, I told the somewhat surly clerk to make me look tall and thin. He tried not to smile, but it happened anyway. Do clerks at all DOLs take classes in being rude and unfriendly?

My Jack wasn't feeling very good this morning. He felt so warm to me, I took him to the health room to have his temperature taken. He also was acting out of character - clingy and teary. I made the executive decision to bring him home.

His family is going to YMCA camp for the weekend, so he had a chance to rest before the big event. I already have their dogs who are enthusiastic about barking a warning to anyone who shuts a car door in my neighborhood. They are sweet dogs, and I enjoy them.

I am invited out to Camp Seymour for brunch on Sunday. It sounds like a long drive, so I must consider this.

Book Review: Forget to Remember

2011-02-03T23:29:00.000-08:00

Rigo Ramirez is emptying trash one night at his temporary job. When he opens the dumpster he discovers the naked body of a lovely young woman who seems to have lost her memory. Having recently completed a degree in psychology, Rigo is just the right person to help "Carol Golden" as she searches for her missing identity.

Carol's search takes her around the United States, and to Europe, providing some international intrigue. With the help of Rigo and his parents, who open their home to Carol, our protagonist works her way through the various people who have been part of her life. Fortunately she seems to be a missing heiress, so there is no lack of money for her search. What's up with the lawyer who is helping her? Is he a good guy or does he wear a black hat? Ultimately she discovers her own identity and learns why she was left for dead.

Alan's books are very readable and provide a good puzzle for the mystery buff. Four and a half out of five stars for this bo

The Conference Was a Hit With Me

2010-08-08T12:08:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I attended the Pacific Northwest Writers Association annual conference at the Seatac Hilton. I was a lot more focused this year about what I am writing and where I want to go with it. That helped me get more out of the weekend than the other two times I have attended the conference.

A couple of the conference perks are being able to make editor and agent appointments. I met with an agent who said she liked my idea, and invited me to send her a few pages to review.

So, I am writing more, and have contacted an editor to work with me. If I knew how to add links to my blog, I would add links to PNWA and to Writers In Action.

A friend had been inviting me to join her writing group for a while. I finally attended and found it useful. It is a group where writing actually happens while we are meeting. So far, I have been able to gear the writing exercises to advancing my storyline, and that has been most helpful, as well as keeping my enthusiasm up. I just might pull this off after all!

My wonderful friends have become the best cheer squad one could hope for: everyone is asking for signed copies...of course, someone has to accept the book first, and then publish it, but my friends seem to think those things are just minor details. I'd like to believe that, too.

I'm also finding that I enjoy writing my story longhand. I think it keeps me better connected to my characters. (and I like looking at my handwriting) This is becoming fun!

Things Do Get Better

2010-06-21T19:50:00.001-07:00

I spent a wonderful nine days in Houston with my son, his beautiful wife, and three amazing little Texans. Also got acquainted with a new granddog, Molly. Molly is a sweet, gentle little soul, and has wormed her way into the hearts of all five members of the family.

I was spoiled. My son treats me like visiting royalty; he always says, "You're on vacation, mom." I love that. It really makes me feel special.

So...I have my equilibrium back, have my meds straightened out, and feel so much more hopeful about my life and future (like, I now feel like I have a future!). Those two critical meds are now on automatic refill so I won't be able to let something like that happen again.

How God works: while I was yelling at God for making me the way I am, I was inspired to sit down and make a list of all my meds to have in my bag for my trip. That was when I realized I was off of those two important meds. Now, maybe God didn't inspire me to make that list, or maybe He did. Maybe it was divine intervention, or maybe it was Grace.

Whatever, it was a blessing and a relief to be able to fix the problem, and to know what the problem was. Once I knew, I began to relax, knowing there was an end in sight. What a challenge!

I don't know a lot about Grace. I am not aware of having experienced it a lot. Maybe it is Grace that has brought me through my life to this point. Grace that is responsible for my never having had a heart attack, in spite of a history of severe blockages in my heart. So, why am I here? What is my purpose?

Two Little Pills

2010-05-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

I resent being labeled bi-polar. I am angry with God for making me this way. Being bi-polar means I have had few happy days in my life. Contrary to popular opinion, some bi-polars have only one extreme mood: depression. Lately, I've been off two of my meds which are critical to treat this problem.

I take a boatload of pills daily, and when these two ran out, I just forgot to refill them, and didn't really notice that I was taking fewer pills. It took about two months before I crashed, and believe me, you would not want a crash like this. At first I found myself overeating; then the anger set in. I spent days crying and screaming. Screaming at my shoes for not feeling right on my feet, screaming at God for making me this way...and just screaming in general. I would get in the shower and cry and scream. The only possible end I could see to the misery was to get rid of me. I had enough pills in the house to do a pretty good job. Instead I emailed my psychiatric care provider, as soon as I realized I had been missing those meds. She called in refills immediately, and spent forty minutes with me today, to help me get back on track. One of my meds will take several weeks to get built up in my system again. She also started me on a third, which will have a more immediate effect - within about three days--so there is a light at the end of this tunnel. At last.

Maybe I can quit hating who I am now.

Facebook is Over

2010-05-25T13:51:00.000-07:00

I just canceled my Facebook account. I enjoyed it for a while. I enjoyed the pictures my daughter posted, and I enjoyed keeping up with my son's life, but too many people use FB as a forum to publish any stupid-ass thing they wanted and I have been getting too pissed off to continue reading that s**t. The rest of the world will continue with their FB nonsense and will get stupider by the minute, but I will no longer be in the audience.

The Ocean

2010-05-16T17:13:00.000-07:00

My Family took me with them to the ocean yesterday. We rented a miniscule cabin (just enough room to turn around) and spent the night. Brett was a hero. He wrangled kids, luggage, a fire, food, and driving, and kept a great sense of humor through the whole trip. We left about noon yesterday, and were in our tiny overnight home by 4:00. The twins had a great time! They found a broom to fight over, and no, they couldn't take turns with it.

Cassie made me take my bi-pap so I wouldn't snore, and I couldn't figure out setting it up, so Brett took care of that for me. I vainly searched the car fifty or sixty times for the jacket I remembered carrying out of the house before we left (it was on the armchair when I got home today). Of course, Erica and Megan wanted to help yaya find her jacket, but they could only do that if they were standing directly in front of me. The wind off the ocean was frigid, and I spent several hours wrapped in a blanket. I think maybe I ought to invest in a sleeping bag, in case they ever take me along again. And maybe I will put a jacket in the car permanently, just for future reference.

Unbelievably, we stumbled upon a surfing convention! The surfers all seemed to be wearing wetsuits, which probably was really smart of them. We didn't hang around to watch anyone surf; our goal was an empty stretch of beach so Cassie could hunt for agates and the kids could run free. The twins ran about ten inches from the car, squatted and filled their buckets with sand. They were happy! Jack ran around with his dad, and managed to get a little wet from the waves. One of the girls fell into an incoming wave, and got stripped down to her skin next to the car while getting into dry clothes. Poor baby. In the relative smallness of the car, and also the cabin, the girls seemed to multiply until I was sure we had several dozen toddlers with us.

We stopped for a nice pancake breakfast at Denny's in Aberdeen, and got back in town around 1:00, I think. I'm worn out, and it feels good. It's the kind of tired one gets from having fun. I'll bet my bed feels extra good tonight!

Oprah Had an Epiphany

2010-05-13T15:34:00.000-07:00

Oprah, probably the United States' most famous yo-yo dieter, has had an epiphany, and has declared that she "will never diet again." That is good news for me and, I'm guessing, thousands of other American women with negative body images. I have been thinking a lot recently about body image, and about where we learn the messages that we are not good enough as we are.

It is a lesson I am sure I learned at my mother's knee. With love in her heart, she put an eight year old child on a diet, and continually reinforced for that child that she was fat and didn't quite measure up. It was never enough to be smart or pretty or capable. As long as she remained overweight, she was not good enough.

I know my mother loved me. I know that now, at my age, being angry with her for my weight issues is inappropriate. I am old enough to make my own choices now, and have been for many years. I have no one else to blame but myself. I still console myself with food, and relieve boredom with food, and celebrate with food. Ironically, I find it simple not to smoke or drink, or do drugs -- other unhealthy practices.

I don't think I learned my negative body image from magazines or television or movies. I think I learned it from my mother and every doctor who ever told me (like I didn't know) I was overweight. Over the years of my life, plenty of people have kindly informed me that I am fat. Oprah helped me with that image. By publicly being so unhappy with her own weight, she influenced me to believe that weight is an issue. Oprah is a mighty agency. She is rich and powerful with or without a weight problem, and even her power and her millions could not make her feel ok about herself. If that is the case, what chance do I have? I can't afford a dietitian and a personal trainer. My doctor refuses to discuss weight loss surgery with me, so I can't even resort to Star Jones' cure. (Star, by the way, was much more attractive when she had a little meat on her bones and didn't look so angry all the time.)

Oprah's announcement this week is liable to set the American multi-million dollar weight-loss industry on its ear.

Oprah's announcement has set me thinking. I think I can no longer feel sorry for myself or make excuses about my weight. What I can do is live a healthier lifestyle. "Healthy" to include appropriate food choices and physical exercise. I'm tired of not liking myself.

Rites of Passage

2010-04-05T22:20:00.001-07:00

No kid ever left childhood with all his baby teeth intact. I love this picture of Jack with the space from which where his first tooth fell. He really cashed in--got $5.00 for this first tooth. I remember sometimes getting a quarter if the tooth was a big one, like a molar, but most of my teeth were worth dimes. Inflation, I guess. Well, I know he is on track developmentally, doing all the right things at the right times, even if he was a little late walking.

That household is celebrating another rite of passage. The twins are in panties now, instead of diapers. Erica had an accident this evening and it seemed to upset her. I found my son easier to train than my daughter. We'll see how this works out for DD's family. My Cassie was a little flirt; if there was a man visiting at the house, she would insist that he take her to the potty. She doesn't do that anymore. I wonder what she will think if she reads this.

I hate to see the kids growing up. What I hate even more is missing the Texans' growing up. That family simply will not send pictures. I even bought Steve a digital camera, but it didn't make a difference. I don't know what the deal is there. Maybe it is a side effect of living in Houston.

Jack Minus a tooth

2010-04-02T22:08:00.000-07:00

2010-02-23T16:39:00.000-08:00

God says, "My name is I Am."
Live in the present
Observe the present
With all senses
Experience the present
With all senses
I hear tv
I am aware of lights and screen
I touch the smooth surface of keys,
Pressure of cushion beneath me
I smell nothing
I taste nothing
I cannot be in the past
I cannot continue to relive the past
I must live in the Now
But the past is a part of that
And I cannot escape.

Summer in the Sixties

2010-02-19T16:59:00.000-08:00

I think my cousin Danny must have been driving that old beat up truck
Helen and I sat on the black, sun-faded roof of the cab
We bounced through the hayfield
While the older boys loaded bales of hay into the bed of the pickup
The sun beat down on us.
The thing I remember most about that day is how hot it was.
The surface of the truck burned our bare skin.
Dust motes sparkled in the air.
We were kids having a summer adventure on the farm that neighbored Uncle Dan's.
Decorum didn't matter; there were no rules to follow.

Later we would have a swim in the creek that ran along the back of Uncle Dan's farm
Floating in giant black inner tubes pulled from tractor tires, we went with the gentle current.
That creek is a faraway place now;
It has disappeared in the distance of the many years that have passed.
It was a time of magic;
I milked a cow,
Played in the hayloft,
Learned to make butter from fresh cow's milk.
Never thought it strange that Uncle Dan's place had a two-seater outhouse.

I loved my cousins, Danny and Helen, Diane and Barbie, and "little" Steve because he was younger than my brother "big" Steve.

It's all a comfortable memory, lost in a summer's haze.

Book Reports

2010-02-11T22:30:00.000-08:00

I have finished two books this week. The first, for the Pastor's Book Club at church, is The Help. It is a coming to awareness look at the earliest days of the Civil Rights movement, weaving the stories of three "colored" maids, working for white families, with events in the early sixties. The march on Washington, which hasn't happened yet in the course of the story, is a reference point. Thought-provoking for me; this book gave me a perspective on times that I lived through; times that I was barely aware of, in the shelter of my little white family.

The other book, for another Book Club, was The Beggar King and the Secret of Happiness. This collection of folk tales also addresses the life of Joel Ben Izzy, the author and narrator. A common theme is silence. Indeed, ben Izzy loses his voice after a bout with throat cancer, and lives in a virtual silence which is enriched by the stories he tells. I find a correlation with my own search for meaning as a newly retired person. Another book I am reading is called The Purpose Driven Life, this book discusses the impossibility of understanding for myself what my purpose is and why I was created. It instructs me, instead, to turn to God to learn what the Creator has in mind for me. I think, like Joel ben Izzy, I must accept the silences in my life and see them as living, as part of the story that is me.

Another New Year (sigh)

2010-01-02T20:11:00.000-08:00

And no reason to think this one will be any different than the past 20. I hate being retired and struggling with this bad back. Feeling discouraged this evening. I began stitching Megan's Christmas stocking this week. It will match Erica's in style but not in design. Cassie and Brett have made a point of treating the girls as individuals and not as clones of each other. Their personalities are so very distinct. Whatever one does, the other hurries to do also. Watching them is great therapy for me. I do love toddlers. These two are becoming very verbal and I can more often understand what they say to me, and we can almost have a conversation. It usually does something like this: Twin: "Yaya dink." Me: "Yes, that is my drink." Not deep or intellectual, but rewarding in its own way.

I may be discouraged, but I am well aware of the blessings in my life.

Stocking Pictures

2009-12-09T18:23:00.000-08:00

This is Cassie. I took some pictures of my stocking and Jack's and Erica's and I'm posting them.

2009-12-06T08:53:00.000-08:00

2009-12-06T08:26:00.000-08:00

I don't know what the problem is, but the picture won't upload. I'll try again later.

Christmas is on its way, we can't avoid it

2009-12-06T08:20:00.000-08:00

My biggest project for this Christmas season has been to complete the cross stitched stocking for my little grandtwin, Erica. I am attaching a picture. Today I start on one for her daddy, and after Christmas I will begin the last of all of these stockings: Megan's. My goal has been to create a unique heirloom gift for each of my six grandchildren. I made stockings for my two children when they were tots, and my daughter still plays with hers each Christmas. She really does play with it! She puts it on her foot and is teaching her children to do the same.

Being Thankful

2009-11-26T09:39:00.000-08:00

It is typical to expresss thankfulness for friends and family and good health. I am thankful that my open heart surgery was two years ago, and I am not still facing that. I am thankful that ordeal is over. I am thankful my brother has recovered from lung cancer. I am thankful that my son and his wife were able to travel to Italy this past week. I am thankful that I will be eating a Thanksgiving Feast with my daughter and her beautiful family in their new home. I'm eager to see the twins and Jack today. I'm also thankful that I am nearly finished stitching Erica's Christmas stocking. I hope she will treasure it.

I enjoy the Macy's parade on tv on this day every year. I miss some things from Thanksgivings past, but we have newer traditions; it is important to look at where we are and look ahead. That is the direction I am going.

This morning I am putting together green bean casserole for our Feast. Last night I baked an apple pie. I hope one day to be strong enough to host the Feast here. Now to start thinking about Christmas.

FALL!

2009-10-26T20:11:00.000-07:00

I love Fall, and this year is no exception. Leaves are flying in the wind, crowding together in soggy heaps in the gutters along the road, and filling lawns with their color. Especially wonderful are the broad leaf Maple leaves. These leaves are as large as dinner plates and a brilliant yellow. I have Oaks in my yard, and the leaves are a dull brown; not nearly as exciting as the Maple. I'd like to trade trees with the neighbor on the corner.

We have had tons of rain recently, so Lakewood is damp and the streets are wet. The road surfaces reflect lights most of the day with the overcast darkening the sky. Fall always feels like the start of things to me. I suppose that is from my years in school and my twenty-plus years of teaching, when school begins nearly in autumn. The air is brisk and the wind is moist with the promise of more rain. The rain adds to Christmas joy, too, when roads and puddles reflect Christmas lights everywhere.

This is the time of year to settle in and get cozy with a good book or dvd and some needlework. A splendid way to spend some time.

Dispel the Mist - A Review

2009-09-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

This intriguing mystery has Deputy Tempe Crabtree wandering through a mist of half-truths and evasions as she investigates what may have been a murder. Peppered through the mystery are allusions to Native legends. As Tempe draws closer to the truth, she moves closer to her own cultural history and a greater understanding of the people from whom she is descended and whom she protects.

Tempe learns to trust her spirituality as a gift from her ancestors, and she is amazed to find the truth of one of the ancient legends. The story ends in a frightening encounter with the villain, who remains unknown to the bitter end, in a violent thunder and lightning storm and Tempe's protection by the ancient legend.

Marilyn Meredith did not disappoint in this enigmatic mystery; this reader enjoyed the glimpses of Native American culture.

The Bogey Man - A Review

2009-09-21T11:36:00.000-07:00

This readable, gently humorous cozy mystery by author Marja McGraw is highly entertaining. It appears to be part of a series of mysteries starring female P.I. Sandi Webster.

In this installment, Sandi finds herself haunted by Humphrey Bogart, fedora and all. The novel is peppered with Bogey-isms and sprinkled with slang of the Bogey era. It is a lot of fun and a trip down memory lane for any fan of Bogart, as well as those to whom the old movies are a joy to watch.

The style is breezy, the characters likable, and easy to care about. This reader found herself wishing she could spend real time with this cast, and intends to look for other books in the series. Highly recommend this intriguing mystery which takes the reader from a Halloween party with a grisly murder to a denouement that neatly ties up all the loose ends with a perfect bow.

Keeping Busy

2009-09-18T13:05:00.000-07:00

I don't know how most retired people keep busy. I watch a lot of tv. While watching, I knit or cross stitch or work on my beading (I make rosaries). Today I signed papers for a new mortgage. It will roll together my first and second, and lower my monthly payments, so that is good. I wasn't watching tv while signing papers. The broker rep came here, saving me a trip to somewhere, and being directionally challenged, I am grateful for that.

During the summer months, I had my grandson a lot; he is fun and kept me busy. I find myself missing him like crazy. I'm so glad he is enjoying kindergarten. My prayer for him is/was that school would be a joy. I pray that for all my little grands. I understand from my son that his youngest may not be making the happiest adjustment to kindergarten. I think he is probably smarter than his teacher -- all those little guys have brains outta sight, and are amazing. I expect the local grands to be just as intelligent.

My daughter tells me that the twins may be Norwegian. Now, we think their grandfather is French, I am Serbian, and we aren't sure about their dad's side of the family, but I am guessing Irish. So of course the girls would be Norwegian. They are calling their brother Jack, "Yak." That could be middle European, also, so who knows? Their mother sounded like she was from New Jersey when she was their age. "New Joisey" she would say. Well, it's fun to guess ethnic backgrounds, based on a few random clues.

I haven't seen the local grands recently, so who knows for sure?

Thirteen Diamonds - Review

2009-09-14T09:26:00.000-07:00

I just finished this intriguing mystery by writer, Alan Cook. Alan has created an engaging protagonist in Lillian, a 70-something senior living in a retirement community. Like peeling back the layers of an onion, Lillian the sleuth, with the author's help, gradually peels back the layers of the mystery of Gerald's death.

Gerald died holding a bridge hand of thirteen diamonds - an almost impossible hand. This reviewer does not play bridge, and is not a skilled in logic. The protagonist is a bridge player and a retired college professor who is accustomed to solving logic puzzles, two of which Cook includes in the mystery. Even reading the solutions left this reviewer mystified.

Overall, this was a fun read, culminating in a near-death adventure for Lillian. Cook writes with an easy, compelling style that engages the reader quickly. Chapters are short and lend themselves to short, quick reading opportunities for busy people.

I strongly recommend this book to any mystery reader. You won't be disappointed.

i Read It

2009-09-09T17:05:00.000-07:00

It's a little after the fact, but I just read the President's speech to our children. I think it is the most inocuous thing I have read in years. It is what EVERY parent should be saying to his or her children.

As far as I can tell, I have not turned into a Socialist, but time will tell. I am a Democrat, so I am probably very liberal. But it all comes out in the wash, doesn't it?

I can thank my son (Out of the Binjo Ditch) for helping me look at politics with a less than a prejudiced eye.

Reviewing

2009-09-09T16:27:00.001-07:00

I'm happy to report that I received two books in the mail yesterday to read and review. In fact, I think I will post the reviews here before I send them on.

I enjoy that my opinion on these books will be heard. The Bogey Man seems to be a story that revolves around Humphrey Bogart. Thirteen Diamonds has to do with the game of Bridge. I wonder if someone more familiar with Bridge should be reviewing it? Nevertheless, I will do my very best with it, and review it in terms of someone who knows nothing of the game. That may help determine its mass appeal. Both are mysteries.

Thirteen Diamonds is written from the point of view of a mathematics professor who understands probability (I don't). I'm interested in how I will do with it.

Meanwhile, off to Writer's Roundtable tonight with the first three pages of my children's book in hand. We read our pieces and hope for constructive criticism from the group. In the past, even when I have asked for specific feedback, I have not received it. I went to the group's last meeting, and I am hopeful that the makeup of the group has changed to a more serious and thoughtful group of people who will be able to provide useful critiques. They are nice people, and don't like to hurt anyone's feelings.

Personally, I am self-absorbed enough that I find it hard to focus on what others are reading. So I have to plead guilty to being not always a good group member.

Getting Rejected

2009-09-02T23:48:00.001-07:00

There is a saying among writers: "If you're not getting rejected, you're not writing." Steven King reportedly had over 2,000 rejections before someone accepted one of his submissions.

I am proud to say that I am now waiting to hear on two articles I have submitted. One to Catholic Digest, and one to American School Counselor Magazine.

I'll let you know what happens.

Grandsons begin kindergarten

2009-09-02T23:41:00.000-07:00

One began last week (School begins early in Texas), and one began today. Jack told his mom this morning, "It's ok to cry, but not to have a nervous breakdown!" I saw him at dinnertime and he greeted me with a shouted, "I'm in Kindergarten!!" I'm glad he is so excited about school. My little Texan may be less enthralled with the education system, but he is so brilliant, he already has left it way behind. I have grandmothered some highly intelligent grandchildren. I'm sure they get it from me. Well...pretty sure, anyway.

It kills me that these wonderful kids have to go to school already. There they will meet little jerks and assholes who will steal their innocence. All six of my grands have wonderful parents, and I am sure that fine parenting will overcome anything those other little kids can come up with.

How Dare He??

2009-09-02T19:33:00.000-07:00

It seems a man in Stone Mountain, GA, shopping in a Wal-Mart, became frustrated with a crying child and slapped her several times to shut her up, after telling her mother that he would shut her up if mother did not.

Haven't we all been frustrated at times with crying children? They are annoying on airplanes, and it really bothers me in stores, because I do believe crying children at Target or Wal-Mart probably need to be home napping, not Slapped ! One way to insure a child will continue to cry and/or whine is to punish physically. Children sometimes cry. It is the nature of children.

And it is the nature of many parents to ignore the child's needs and continue shopping to meet their own personal (sometimes selfish) needs. As for planes...no one on the plane wants the child to stop crying more than the parent does. Granted all passengers are an enslaved audience to a crying child, but it does no help to become angry and frustrated. Since I learned to adopt an attitude of, "babies cry; it's their nature" I have been able to remain much more peaceful about crying children.

In stores it is the parents with whom I become annoyed. Come on folks. Make sure the kids are fed and rested before you drag them through Target, and avoid the toy area. Get with the program and be real parents.

Hip Hip Hooray!

2009-08-30T12:48:00.000-07:00

After many long months of putting off what needs to be done around here, because of the pain in my hip, a sweet friend - one of my daughter's schoolmates - is helping by cleaning up my house. I am so very grateful for her help today. At last I will be able to enjoy my home again.

This young woman is a hard worker with a gift for clearing out and cleaning up. As I realised I needed help, she was the person I knew I would ask. I don't mind paying for the help, and I hope I am paying her fairly.

I am delighted that she is here with her very beautiful daughter making the place look livable again. And now I will be ready for my covenent group to meet here in a couple of weeks. All I have to do is keep up with it.

On a stranger note, I found myself recently volunteering to teach the youth Sunday School class at church. I like my church and the many nice people who have become friends over the years. I needed that church when I first found it, and it needed me. This summer I visited another church several times; but it didn't need me as much. I like it, too, and it will be where I go whenever something happens where I am.

So my big plan is to engage the kids in a large project. I hope to get permission to paint a mural in one of the Sunday School Classrooms. I hope the kids will give input on this, and help come up with a design. It is an ambitious project, and needs permission from the trustees. I think it could be just the thing to juice up our youth program. Now I need to research murals and learn more about creating one. Anyone have any advice?

Good News, Bad News

2009-08-24T16:50:00.000-07:00

After more than eight months of constant pain in my hip, today I saw the specialist who pronounced my hips as being in excellent condition. The culprit, it seems, is the "badly arthritic back." I guess I should be glad this debilitating pain is not in my back. As it is, it keeps me off my feet.

The doctor, in a fit of something (!) found it necessary to point out that I am overweight. He must think I don't have a mirror and have never seen a doctor before. This is after the hour and a half beyond my appointment time that I was kept waiting. I finally lost it and went to the receptionist and told her, "This is outrageous!" I can't believe he thinks a "sorry" can excuse such an inexcusable situation. Everybody knew I was upset about the excessive wait. This sucks.

Happy Birthday, Baby Girls

2009-08-16T22:38:00.000-07:00

Our twins are two years old today, a;nd as much a miracle today as the day they were born. Beautiful and smart and sassy and funny -- they are the quintessential two-year-olds. Erica seems like she is the more studious (if a two year old can be called studious!) of the two, while Megan is funny with a quick sense of humor for a child so young. I cannot imagine life without both of these charming little girls.

They are a constant blessing and joy. Conversation with these little girls seems to consist of announcements. "Yaya!" "Ack!" (Jack), "Daddy!" "Bunny!" The identify everyone in their world and associate me with every dark colored van they see, according to mom. It makes me feel so special...

Another One Bites the Dust

2009-08-13T15:11:00.000-07:00

I guess by the time a woman reaches my age and is still single, either she is way too picky or all the reasonably good ones are gone.

I do get lonely, and often wish I had someone in my life. A person I had been seeing I am seeing no longer. He had no interest in what makes me tick: that would be my writing or my art, or my fabulous grandchildren.

The man who is right for me will be interested in me. He will want to get to know me better through my writing and my artwork, he will want to meet my grands. He will want to be in my life.

I already had my time with him, and am sorry that it didn't last. We were together about 3 and a half years, and that was some time ago. I often think about my first divorce and I have regrets. It is too bad he was too stubborn to tell me he was wrong. I know there was a moment there that he wanted to get back together.

So, I regret missed opportunities. And I regret all those damn toads I have kissed along the way.

Wannabe Writer Is Inspired

2009-08-02T21:57:00.000-07:00

This was my big, expensive, extravagance. I decided at the last minute to attend the PNWA Writer's Conference, and due to the immobilising heat, I elected to stay at the Hilton. Too expensive, and way too much walking for my poor hip... And a last minute decision to attend the conference included the opportunity to pay extra to attend.

Wow. I'm not sure it was worth what I paid. I am sure, however, that I came away from the conference knowing more than when I arrived, and I have a story pitch I am working on. A short novel geared toward preadolescents, dealing with young boys whose dads are at war.

I'm really writing it. That is a lot more exciting than one may realize. It is exciting for me to be making the transition from wannabe-writer to writer.

The conference was good for me.

It always feels good to get home

2009-05-26T20:40:00.001-07:00

I may not always appreciate my home, but when I've been away, there's no place like it. Just home this evening from Texas where I visited my son and his beautiful wife and their three little Texans. It was a hectic week, and things I hoped to do with the kids were left undone.

I just wasn't feeling as good this time, and the meds I'm taking for the sciatica put me to sleep routinely during the day. Nevertheless, I think I could have done more. Now I am deciding that bedtime is the better part of valor for the rest of the evening.

Everyone down Houston way is healthy and apparently happy, even the Apple who gets pretty mad at his Dad sometimes.

The dog just about did backflips when I got home. She must have been terribly lonely, poor baby. Maybe next time I should kennel her. I'll have to think about that. She did help me finish my supper, and she is a good girl overall.

Ok, you talked me into it. I'm going to bed.

Identical Twins

2009-04-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

They don't get much more identical than Erica and Megan who share the same DNA. Poor Erica has spent two nights in the hospital with viral pneumonia. She came off the oxygen this morning, so we know she is improving, and we hope she will be heading home today. Originally they said she needed to be off oxygen 24 hours before she could go home, but maybe not, since she went off it so early. Erica is the twin in the blue jumper. They are wonderfully happy little girls.

Grandbabies

2009-04-24T10:24:00.001-07:00

Pictures? What Pictures?

2009-04-22T13:35:00.000-07:00

I've recently had two comments suggesting I post pictures. There are a lot of pictures on this blog. There would be more if someone would tell me where my digital camera is. Right now, any pictures are limited to items I can scan. I'll work on this dilemma.

Quilting

2009-04-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

Building a quilt is a lot of work. I started my first quilt two years ago with the help of a talented co-worker. Since then, although I had good intentions to finish the quilt, I lost the pieces I had completed. They must be in the house; I suspect they are packed away with the Christmas things, but it will be another day before I pull those bins out and take a look.

Meanwhile, I began my second quilt. This one I have a realistic hope of finishing. I am giving myself permission to be imperfect. I didn't plan ahead very well, so I find myself in the position of having to piece together more squares than I anticipated. This means I am using material/fabric that was not used in the first 2/3 of the quilt. I hope I can make it work. My goal is a random, casual, patchwork piece. So far I'm at 100% on the random, and leaning toward the same with the patchwork. I've built the quilt around plain muslin, unbleached. Tonight my friend told me it looked "vintage." I take that as a compliment. I think she means the subdued choice of colors. These latest patches or squares, will add a more colorful contrast to the earlier squares. I guess that's ok. Maybe once I finish one, I will be encouraged to try another.

Already I am looking at the piecing I am doing, and imagining placemats in the same pattern and colors. That might be fun to attempt later on.

But the whole thing is work! And with this pinched nerve in my back, standing over the cutting table or the ironing board is painful. It's also somewhat difficult to use the pressure foot on the sewing machine. There will be a picture of the finished product when that grand day arrives. I did learn something from an obnoxious woman on a quilting show last weekend. She demonstrated layering the quilt top, the batting, and the backing, and how to sew it all together; then how to turn it right side out. I can do that. I wonder how long before I get to that point? Must finish piecing the quilt top first.

Note to self: 1) buy batting. 2) choose and buy backing fabric and a border for the top.

It's always something more.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2009-04-16T23:05:00.000-07:00

Jack asked me, "Yaya, can I ask you a personal question?" I kind of knew what was coming, because his mom had shared a similar conversation with me. "Sure Jack. Ask me a personal question. "What do you do if your pants are on fire?" Well, my pants are slightly personal, of course, so I asked him what I should do. "Stop! Drop! and Roll!" he told me. I love this little guy and his funny sense of humor.

Mom told me he wanted her to play baseball tonight. He told her to keep her elbos up and her knees bent, then threw the ball behind her and told her she was not a good batter. Apparently the ball later landed on the roof. Jack, being a gentleman, didn't want mom to go up after it; no, he was more than willing to climb the ladder and retrieve the ball himself.

On another note, the physical therapy is really beginning to make a difference with the sciatica. Tomorrow will be a truer test. I was limber after my session today, so it makes sense that I felt better. I am feeling less pain, and seem to be able to do more and to have more stamina. I hope soon I will be able to get back to my Curves workouts. I miss them.

Haiku Wednesday

2009-04-15T20:04:00.000-07:00

With apologies to the Grammar Police, I offer the following in celebration of Binjo Ditch's "Haiku Wednesday":

Darn sciatica
Who needs it? Dang, it sure hurts bad!
PT helps so slow.

Lonely

2009-04-13T21:57:00.000-07:00

I wonder why the seagulls cry?
They come inland when there are storms,
and I hear their lonely calls.
Do they call for a mate,
a friend, a comrade in a crisis?

Sometimes I feel like the seagull's call sounds,
alone and searching.

Coffee

2009-03-22T20:41:00.000-07:00

My morning coffee
is a moment in time.
The forward momentum of my being
suspended, hanging in space
when the aroma is born.
Sharp, pungent, scent wafts on
invisible currents of air
caressing my senses
My nostrils quiver
my eyes close
as I inhale
and my tongue reaches
tentatively,
eagerly,
anticipating and savoring
that first sip.
Hot and milky
liquid held in my mouth,
swallowed slowly...
I want to immerse myself inthe experience;
to hear and taste, touch and smell and
be
the pleasure of the cup.

Sherry 2001

More creativity

2009-03-15T11:35:00.000-07:00

I took a class last Sunday down at The Bead Factory in Tacoma. It was called "The Art of the Rosary." I am new to beading, and do not want or need another hobby that will cause me to collect more stuff. However, I enjoy praying the rosary as meditation and to feel spiritually connected to what is so much larger than a mere human, so I thought I would enjoy learning to make one. I did make one, using small pink beads shaped somewhat like shells. Since then I made another rosary, using oval glass turquoise-colored beads. Or maybe they are peacock blue. I'm not sure. I'm improving on my loops, but still am not confident. If you could see how often I am putting pieces back together, you would understand. I think I have a photo of the first one to show you.

Pictures of my book

2009-03-15T11:28:00.001-07:00

It turned out to be really fun!

2009-03-15T11:11:00.000-07:00

Cassie invited me to go with her yesterday to a bookmaking class. No, this was not a class on how to place bets. This class was how to make a small book, suitable for a journal. I had a wonderful time after everyone finished "helping" me. I asked Cassie if I looked like such a complete dolt that everyone had to do everything for me, but she said I just looked confused. The instructor would tell us what to do next, then tell us 4 more ways we could do it, or her assistant would tell us how she does it...yes, I WAS confused! The book ended up being a trifold, with several pages. We used calendar pages, the big, pretty oens, as design for the covers. Once the book was constructed, I had more fun adding the bling. Last night I printed out a copy of one of my favorite poems: Big Wind, by Theodore Roethke. It is the story of a greenhouse weathering a storm as a ship weathers a gale at sea. Since the poem refers to roses a couple of times, it seemed ideal to include in my book. I'll post pictures. So I cut apart the stanzas and pasted them into the pages of my book. It would make a nice gift if I knew anyone who enjoys poetry as much as I do.

I'm proud of my finished product, and totally enjoyed the creative opportunity. Thank you, Cassie!

An Unremarkable Life

2009-03-10T15:24:00.000-07:00

Many people work hard all their lives just to stay "even." They live unremarkable lives. They are not heroes or public figures or sports stars. They go about the business of daily living, doing their best to follow the rules and to be good people. They are kind to others in trouble, send money to help out when communities are in flood or drought conditions. They are basically honest people, but may not always return the extra change. They do what they are told, hold doctors in high esteem, and do not tell teachers or police officers, "I pay your salary!"

I think I fit in this category. So do my neighbors on each side of my house. We are what Regan called "The Silent Majority." We trust the political figures who make decisions that affect us. When our taxes go up, we accept it. When the prices of groceries and gasoline go up, we accept it, and only complain to the others who also are "us." Most of us will never achieve Andy Warhol's prediction of "Fifteen minutes of fame." We simply are who we are. We live out the legacy left to us by the unremarkable people who were our parents and grandparents.

Pensive

2009-03-05T19:39:00.000-08:00

I have been single for about 10 years; sometimes I get lonely.
'Haiku
Face flushing, blood rushing
In my imagination
Wait, hope it will come.

Inauguration Day

2009-01-20T09:23:00.000-08:00

"A fresh wind is blowing" across America. This is the first time Ihave chosen to watch the inauguration of a new president. Watching this spectacle (and many have worked hard to make it into a spectacle) gives me the feeling of a warm breeze blowing in on a day of spring thaw: a promise of warmer days to come, a promise for a future that will provide.

The last couple of years of Bush's presidency have felt discouraging to me. I was so disheartened by the path our country seemed to be taking that I leapt outside my comfort zone and voted Libertarian in this presidential election. Obama makes me feel better. Already he is doing things, making changes, that make me feel encouraged for the future that our children will inherit. I have hope, at a time of great personal change, as I look to retirement. I'm not sure I want to be retired, but I want to have quality time with my grandchildren, and that is more important than a lackluster career. I wish I could believe I had done something that mattered.

In retirement I shall write, paint, draw, and pursue the spirit within me. I have hope.

Coping Advice

2008-11-22T13:11:00.001-08:00

A list helps me cope. I break the big project down into stages and put a timeframe on each stage. Same with either outlining (road mapping) a new manuscript or writing chapters. I learned that coping technique from my husband who is a builder. He sets deadlines on paper for himself and his subcontractors so everyone knows what's expected and when. He insists everyone stick to the schedule. He was the one who said, "How do you expect to get anywhere without a roadmap?" I then applied that philosophy to my writing, and I've stayed on track.

Beth

I'm confused. I don't know who Beth is, and I don't know how this post ended up on my blog. I didn't post it. I do make a lot of lists, but this post is not mine. Beth, whoever you are, how did you get into my blog?

What to do?

2008-11-16T22:29:00.000-08:00

I am on medical leave from work, and have been since early in October. I guess I had some kind of brekdown, and I ended up on the psych ward. People there were great. People listened and responded as if my ideas had merit. That is an honor I dont't get at work. One principal has been told (by HR most likely) that I don't want to return to work for her. My other choice is to take a .6 position, which will barely pay my house and car payments.

I'm considering an early retirement. I'd like to work again. I have a lot left to give. I am praying that God will show me the job that is right for me. Please join me. I do most heartily believe in a supremacy which can influence my life.

Amen.

Guilt, guilt, and more guillt

2008-11-06T14:54:00.000-08:00

I wrote a blog a few days ago, in which I discussed what I thought my marriage meant to my husband, and how I understood our relationship. Today my daughter made a point of telling me "You really trashed dad." Well, my love, don't you think he trashed me pretty good when he threw me out and walked away? My heart will never recover from the betrayal and heartache of that moment. I have a right to be hurt and angry and a right to express it.

He got what he wanted. He wanted to NOT be with me. And that's what he got. Good for him.

Sarah Palin

2008-11-05T19:45:00.000-08:00

I didnt think I would like her, until I watched Tina Fey "humanize" her by poking fun and teasing. Tina did a lot of good for me in terms of seeing Sarah as someone to take seriously. "Ir'a ovwe. Ir's over. It's over! Praise God in Heaven, this election is OVER!!!"

we made it through

2008-11-04T21:02:00.000-08:00

and at times I wondered if we would. I got through about 50 telephone polls. I did not vote for incumbent Senator Mike Carrell. Too bad he did not see fit to answer my email. If that was petty of me, then that is my right as an American to not vote for someone for whatever reason. Besides I don't like his signs.

I threw away my vote. I did not feel "good" about either major party candidate, and I voted Libertarian. So there. At least I voted and I have the right to bitch my heart out re those who ar enow in power.

Here is something I found in an old book of Shakespeare's plays:
"Mt workj is something I do, not what I am. What I am is far greater than anything I can do.

As soon as I kow where I will be working when I go back Dec 1, I will have new business cards made, and I will include that phrase. It is a lovely sermon summed up in two sentences.

Lately I have been able to xstitch again. Still working on the second to last Christmas stocking, but eager to begin a sweet little teapot for a friend.

I attended a different church Sunday: The Episcopal church. It was great and I loved it. I felt I had "been to church" for the first time in many years. I think I will try it again next week.

Here we go again...

2008-11-03T22:22:00.000-08:00

It has been 38 years since I was old enough to cast my first ballot. I hope in those years I have made wise choices.

This week I have been noticing: The more I hear about Dino Rossi blasting Christine Gregoire (our 2 gubernatorial candidates), the more Christine's name stays in my mind. Maybe he shouldn't be using her name so frequently in his negative campaign. To me, he uses her name so much, that is what I remember, not the trash he is talking about her. I am finding the same to be true about our presidential candidates. C'est l'vie say the old folks...it goes to show you never can tell. I'll run down to the Lake City Community Center tomorrow and cast my ballot, since I've lost my mail in ballot. I lose a LOT of things. This house is like a black hole. Somewhere in this house, are thousands of unmatched socks...every sock anyone has ever lost is here somewhere.

This house loses things that matter. Especially things that matter to me. I'm going to bed. Who realy cares?

Someone Understands Me!!

2008-11-02T17:40:00.000-08:00

`Deepak Chopra. I know you've heard of him. I heard of him yeas before I cared. I am currently reading Power, Freedom, and Grace.

As a member of the United Methodist Church, I have been encouraged to question authority (including the Bible, which some like to think of as the Ultimate Authority, only I don't), to question the Party Line, and to develop our own Theology.

Long ago I decided that God is the Universe. And that every particle that is in the Universe is part of God, including me and that tree in the front yard. This is exactly what I have read in the second chapter of Chopra's book

Meanwhile, God, or the part of God that I am (the tiniest particle) is letting me down. I felt so relieved when I made the decision to take a disability retirement, and Social Security agreed with me that I am disabled. Now I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know how to take care of myself orf keep my family happy. We're fine, as long as I am a source of income. Just as my husband wanted me to be for him so many years ago. I wouldn't play the game for him. I think I am not supposed to believe in this. I grew up in the sixties when women's roles were changing and women had a choice of having a career outside the home. I didn't want one. I wanted tobe a mom and a wife and be appreciated for that. Instead, I was constantly pressured to get a job and support my husband (in his words) "in the condition to which I want to become accustomed." What I heard was: I want more money and you can provide it. He spent my retirement on a fuciking boat which he had to sell in orde r to go to (his volunteer choice) Korea so he could "get me away from my family." BIG RED FLAGS: these are signals that a man is likely to be abusive. He does not allow his spouse to participate in family decision making, and he does his best to separate her from her support system. What a lug nut.When I can think about it unemotionally, i am grateful he decided he didn't want to be married anymore. I thought marriage was a partnership not a maninchargeship.

Well, I'm not done crying for the day. This is a man who is so damnned honorable he wouldn't allow his daughter's boyfriend to wear a cap with a marijuana leaf on it, altho he smoked weed himself, with me. He got what he wanted. And he got married again as soon as he found someone willing to take him.

This honorable, righteous man stomped on his wedding vows and ground them into the dirt. What a guy.

Trusting others has always been a downfall for me. It doesn't pay off to trust anyone. People always come back and disappoint one.

Taking Cre of Myself

2008-10-22T09:19:00.000-07:00

I wonder why it is so difficult to take care of myself? I completely buy into the whole _ put your own oxygen mask first before the child next to you - but it seems so hard to put into practice. I am off work for the next month as I adjust to my new meds and my new diagnosis of bipolar disorder. I don't think I am crazy. What I notice, though, is that I will suddenly burst into tears and intense depression and feel so worthless...and useless. I can't imaine anyone wanting me back at work. I know I have not been giving my job all that it requires, and I feel badly about that. I also have tried to blame the system and the district and sometimes the people I work with, but that hasn't helped at all. I feel guilty to be home on medical leave. This isn't like a year ago when I was recovering from open heart surgery andphysically couldn't get through a day. I feel good, physically, and i am having a nice time being home. It makes retirement look all that much better. I'm done working, I think. I may be what the miliatary used to call a "ROAD" --Retired On Active Duty. Still collecting a paycheck, but mentally retired.

I am playing with the grands, and writing a book for the Texans, I am practicing Chinese calligraphy, I am writing and doing watercolor.

But I feel so darn much guilt! I hope this gets better in time. I hope I can come to accept this point in my life. I know I am no good to my school if I am bursting into tears or abject depression at the drop of a leaf.

I pray a lot. In fact, I am writing an article titled, "I am a United Methodist, So Why Am I Praying the Rosary?" The Rosary inspires me, and it helps me to feel a spiritual connectin to a power greater than myself. I think I will finish the article and see who I can submit it to.

I need to go shower now.....

Real?

2008-09-27T23:33:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to tell
If a person is real or
Playing with me.
At this old, advanced age,
It seems like I should be
able to read people better.

Loneliness is like wearing sunglasses at night
it distorts what is in front of a person.
I just (it seems so simple to me) want
to be loved and to have a person to love.

But Trust is elusive.
Like a lightning bug,
it flickers and flits away
I have my jar,
Holes in the lid,
ready to catch it
and keep it close and alive,
But my jar remains empty.
There is no Trust
Flickering near me.

They Made It! One year and counting...

2008-08-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

The twins' birthday party was sure nice. Cassie is such a good mommy. She made sure every child present got to "help" the babies open their presents. I never thought of things like that when I was a young mom.

I should be able to post some of the pictures that were taken at the party. The way the girls eat their cake helps to define the difference between them. I sat in a corner and drew pictures. Georgia's husband, Edward, fixed the focus on my digital camera and he took a lot of pictures. I have not been able to suck them out of the camera and into the computer yet, though. Let's see if I can post some of these. Remember, these little doll-babies have identical DNA, but they still are individuals.

Some New Amusement...

2008-07-30T13:18:00.000-07:00

My LOL name is Snuggles Phisher. I wish I knew how to post the link so you can find your own LOL name. I am just not that clever. Find another LOL name.

Words to Live By...

2008-07-17T16:18:00.000-07:00

Sometime Courage is nothing more than being able to whisper at bedtime, "I'll try again tomorrow." --author unknown

A Little Survey - July ??, 2008

2008-07-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

Blog Entry A Little Survey Dec 21, '07 2"20 PM
for everyone

1. You can only answer Yes or No!

2. You are not allowed to explain anything unless someone messages you and asks!

3. Repost this on your page.

****************Here we go!!

Kissed someone on your friends list? No

Danced in front of your mirror naked? yes

Ever told a lie? yes

Tripped on mushrooms? no

Done ecstasy? No

Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back? Yes

Been arrested? No

Kissed a picture? Yes

Slept till 5pm? No

Had sex at work? No

Fallen asleep at work? No

Had an actual snake? No

Ran a red light? Yes

Been suspended from school? No

Totalled car/motorcycle in an accident? Yes

Been fired from a job? No

Sang karaoke? no

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes

Kissed in the rain? Yes

Sang in the shower? Yes

Sat on a roof top? Yes

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? no

Broken a bone? No

Shaved your head? No

Slept naked? Yes

Blacked out after drinking? no

Played a prank on someone? Yes

Had a gym membership? Yes

Felt like killing someone? yes

Made your Partner cry? no

Had sex more than 9 times in one day? No

Had mexican jumping beans as pets? no

Been in a band? no

Shot a gun? no

Played strip poker? No

Donated blood? No

Video taped you having sex? No

Still love someone you shouldn't? yes

Have a tattoo? yes

Any piercings, other than ears? No

I just caught one.

2008-07-13T20:44:00.000-07:00

In the Headline of my last post, I incorrectly used the lowercase "i" when I should have used a capital I.

No one gets on my back about this stuff worse than I do!

Mistakes...I thought I made one once, but I was wrong

2008-07-13T20:36:00.000-07:00

Cassie pointed out to me today that she has found numerous errors in my recent blog posts. That isn't like me. I hate spelling errors, and I hate even more substituting a sound-alike letter for a word. It's lazy and inappropriate. I c u r bzee. Don't give me that crap. If you are going to write to me, then please write the words you want to say. I will think highly of you.

Another issue I'm having is keeping my fingers on the correct keys. I struggle with this constantly. I think I get going toi fast sometimes. I understand this happens to a lot of people, but I strive for correctness in my written work. I hate making mistakes in my writing.

This is all about me. What I like, what I want, what I do correctly or incorrectly. Another thing I hate is a Friday night tv show called "Numbers" in which an e is replaced with a number 3. That's wrong!!!!! Don't do it that way. I don't think it is clever at all.

I also had an issue with "xmas" until I learned that the "x" actually meant the cross upon which Christ was crucified and so meant "Christ."

NOw you all know how I feel about things, so let's shape up out there.

But how do i add a group?

2008-07-12T09:35:00.000-07:00

http://amazingstitches.blogspot.com/I just found a blog I thought I would like to add to my list, but how the heck do you do that?

The Kissing Mouse Part 1

2008-07-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

Part 3

2008-07-11T08:56:00.000-07:00

Early the next morning, Daddy got up and got dressed to go to work. Before he left, he poured a cup of coffee and peeked at the Kissing Mouse. “Cute little Mouse.” Said Daddy.
“Daddy, guess what Mousey did last night?” cried Jack. Then Jacky told mom and dad the whole story of how Mousey had wakened him so he could let Francesca back in the house. “Naughty Francesca!” Mama scolded. “You know better than to try to sneak out during the night. I et is wa!” Mama scolded “You know better than to try to sneak out during the night. I bet it was good and cold out there!” Francesca was little bit ashamed of herself because she knew she had done a wrong thing. But Francesca was not afraid, she knew her family would always lover ner, no matter what she did.
Daddy finished his coffee and put on his hat. It was time to leave for work. Before he could go very far, the Kissing Mouse ran up Daddy’s sleeve and gave him a kiss on the chin. Daddy lauhed because it tickled.
Then Mousey ran into the living room where Megan and Erica ere plaing on the flor. The little mouse rant to Megan and kissed her little chubby hand, then climbed up her arm and kissed her arm at every step. Megan laughed and laughed. Then the Mous
The Kissing Mouse
© 2008
Sherry Benic

ran to Erica and did the same thing, kissing and tickling with his tiny little moujse feet. He sure was a busy little Kissing Mouse.
After a while, Yaya came over. When the Mouse saw Yaya, she scampered up her arm to her shoulder. Now remember, it was on Yaya’s shoulder that the kiss turned into a mouse. This time, there was little and a burst of stars and hearts, and the mouse turned back into a kiss.
The End

2008-07-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

Later that night, after the family was all tucked in their beds and fast asleep, Francesca woke up.
Now, Francesca was the little dog, and sometimes she was naughty. On this night, Francesca pointed her nose in the air and sniffed. He smelled something different from the usual House smells. She smelled the nighttime air! Someone must have left a window open. Francesca poked her nose out from under the covers. Very quietlyshe wiggled her whole head out. Then her front paws and her long, little body. The last part to come out from under the covers was her tail. Francesca tried wagging her tail very quietly. It worked!
She tip-toed across the floor and into the living rom. There it was! An open window. Francesca jumped up onto the back of the couch and pushed her nose throught the open window. If she pushed a little harder, her head pushed the window open a little further. Pretty soon, Francesca could wriggle her shoulders through the open window. An inch at a time, she pushed out the window, then jumed down into the soft, wet grass.

The Kissing Mouse
© 2008
Sherry Benic

Meanwhile, in her little dump truck, near Jacky’s bed, under her washcloth blanket, the Kissing Mouse’s whiskers began to wiggle and twitch. She opened one eye. Her whiskers were teling her something was wrong! Mousey concentrated on her wiggling whiskers, then climbd out of the dump truck and ran over to Jacky’s bed..
Mousey pulled herself all the way up to the mattress where Jacky was sleeping. He bounced over the mattress and planted a great big kiss on Jacky’s forehead. He was such a little mouse that his bouncind didn’t move the mattress at all. Jacky didn’t even know he had been kissed, because even a big kiss from very tiny mouse does not feel very big.
Mousey had to kiss Jacky five or si times before Jacky finally woke up and rubbed his eyes. Mousey jumped up and down and pointed down the hallway to the living room. Then he got down on his hands and knees and acted like a dog, and pointed down the hall again. Jacky was still sleepy, but he understood tht Mousey was trying to tell him about one of the dogs in the living room.
So Jacky ushed the covers off of himself, and climbed out of bed, and followed Mousey down the hall. In the living room, Mousey pointed to the open window and ran to door. Jacky thought to himself, the window isn’t open very far. I bet Gracie (the big dog, couldn’t climb through there. But Francesca could!
qJack went to the front door and very quietly he pulled it open just a little bit. What did he see on the front step? It was Francesca, sitting all huddled up in a little ball, and
The Kissing Mouse
© 2008
Sherry Benic

shivering like crazy. “Oh naughty Francesca,” said Jack. “You sneaked outside and you got very cold. You come back in the house now, ok?”Francesca jumped up and licked Jack’s face because she was very happy. Then Francesca rand down the hallway and jumped back into bed with mommy and daddy/ After a few minutes she stopped shivering and went back to sleep.

2008-07-11T08:53:00.001-07:00

The Kissing Mouse
© 2008
Sherry Benic

The sun was shining in a bright blue sky while Jack and Yaya played in the grass. Jack was throwing pretend kisses to Yaya. He would kiss his hand and pretend to throw the kiss across the yard to Yaya. His grandma, yaya, was pretending to catch the kisses in her hand and put them on hr cheek. Sometimes Jack would tease yaya and tell her, “Oh oh, yaya, you missed!”
Jack threw another kiss to yaya. When she pretended to catch it, Jack called out, “oh oh Yaya. You missed. That one landed on your shoulder!” Yaya looked at her shoulder and Jack shouted in surprise, “Hey! That one turned into a mouse!” When she looked at her shoulder, Jack’s grandma saw a tiny little brown mouse looking back at her with big, dark eyes and a little pink nose.
“Oh My Goodness!!” Grandma yelled, surprised. The funny little mouse jumped up a little bit and kissed yaya on the cheek. None of Jack’s kisses had ever turned into a mouse before! Suddenly the mouse wiggled its whiskers and twitched its tail, and ran down from Yaya’s shoulder to the grass. “It is a Kissing Mouse, A Kissing Mouse!” shouted Jack.
“It sure is!” Yaya shouted back. The funny little mouse ran up the porch steps and slipped into the house. “Come on, Yaya,” Jack yelled and ran into the house to follow the little mouse.
They found the mouse all curled up in Jack’s dump truck, sound asleep. “Cover him up, yaya” said Jack. He needs a little blanket.” Yaya went to the cupboard and

The Kissing Mouse
© 2008
Sherry Benic

looked inside. She found some little washcloths and gave one to Jack. “Here, Jacky, this is just the right size to cover up a tiny, sleeping mouse.”
Very gently Jack put the washcloth over the little kissing mouse and tucked it in around him. Jacky kissed his finger and touched the mouse’s little head with his kiss. In his sleep, the little mouse smiled. “What name will you give to your mouse, Jacky?”
“Ummm, I will call him Mousey,” said Jack.

Experiment

2008-07-11T07:22:00.000-07:00

Last summer, Jack fell in love with gardening. I don't have a real garden; I have a patch of weeds encosed within a stone barrier. Jack and I would go shopping and pick up plants we liked, then bring them home and put them in containers on the back patio (as opposed to the front patio, which we don't have). We planted geraniums, petunias, impatiens. This year, I am going to fill a pot with sand and put in nasturtium seeds. The best nasturtiums I ever grew were seeds dropped in a sandy corner near the sidewalk. I know they do not thrive in rich soild, although that will contribute to lovely leaves. I think it will be interesting to see if we can grow nasturtiums. I can't think of those tender little flowers without remembering a military neighbor out at McChord. She alays referred to them as "nasturniums." Which does sound like it should be the name of a flower. In an effort at sumi-e painting several years ago, I did my own rendition of nasturtiums, which I present for your pleasure here today.

Forgot Something

2008-07-11T07:15:00.000-07:00

I see that I forgot to add the example of marital discord, but really, didn't I cover that in one of my facts about me? Yes, I thought so.

I love to do a Meme. It's all about Meme.

2008-07-11T07:02:00.000-07:00

I have never been tagged before, and now thanks to One Step Sideways I have a bit of work to do on the blog where I never blog.

Here are the rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog. (I don't know how)
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird. (okie dokie)

3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs. (again, I don't know how)

4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. (finish laughter from #3)

5. Present an image of martial discord from whatever period or situation you'd like. (as you wish.)

And now, 7 Facts about me:

1. I am a published writer and artist.

2. I have a cat who can hawk up hairballs on command.

3. A very bitter friend who liked to try to mess things up for people, shared with me that I had the 2nd highest IQ in high school, then told me before the ceremony that I had won the Creative Writing Award.

4. I have a discreet tatoo, slowly becoming a long-stemmed rose; and only my ears are pierced.

5. My mother and dad fought so much I sometimes wished they would divorce and I could go live with Aunt Helen and Uncle Floyd.

6. I dream of writing a children's story that will be accepted for publication.

7. I'm fat; I know what causes it, but I don't cure it.

In the spirit of the meme, please read the fine print: If you are reading this, then consider yourself tagged.

My Precious

2008-07-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

These babies are the reason I didn't just cash it all in last October. Of course, The Texans are part of the same reasoning, but we generally don't discuss their names or show their pictures. Bottom Line: I'm not done with these children yet, and I feared that giving up to the Heart Surgery would leave too many things undone. There must be a reason God brought me through it all. My doctors keep telling me I am a Miracle, and I don't quite "get it." Unless because I was found to have 5 serious blockages inside my heart, but never had a heart attack or a stroke or any other problem. I was having the Open Heart within a week of finding the blockages. I did use a lot of nitro during that week. For what it's worth, I took off most of that week from work.

At this time I am angry with both my school district and my surgeon for allowing me to go back to work aftr only 8 weeks, with no restrictions. I couldn't do it. I seriously did not have the energy or ability to manage five days of work every week. Someone should have been looking out for me. Someone was: my good friend, Dr Bob, the psychologist who shares my office at one of my schools. Bob told me repeatedly that I was doing too much too soon. Instead, I ended up taking the last month of school as medical leave in order to destress, and relieve my anxiety.

Teaching is NOT an easy profession. It is highly demanding. And I work in a school in which every parent thinks he/she owns the school and has the right to make outrageous demands at any time. I want to leave that building.

But, I digress by leaps and bounds. I began by saying those little cuties up there are the reason I did not give up and ask God to take me. I remember some moments of feeling deeply connected on a spiritual level to God/the Higher Power/the Universe. I firmly believed at that time that if I asked to die, I could have. But I thought of the grandchildren, and I couldn't do it.

My life is not what I hoped it would be. I thought my husband and I would joyfully watch our children grow and accomplish wonderful lives. I believed that until the day he said to me, "I can hardly wait for the kids to grow up and be gone so we can do what we want to do." If I remember correctly, he was the partner who threw out my birth control impulsively so we could have a baby. And suddenly he was telling me that he didn't want these children we had created. I have never been as lonely without that man as I was while I was married to him. I want to watch the children be silly and I want to share laughs with someone who loves them to distraction. I hope God has that someone in His plan for me.

My children and my grandchildren are the reason I live today, and they are the focus of nearly everything I do. I hope when you look at them, you can see what I see.

Me as a Superhero!

2008-07-05T10:39:00.000-07:00

2008-07-05T10:35:00.001-07:00

My Frustration

2008-07-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

It wasn't until I scanned this that I realized the eyes looked odd--kind of lop-sided. The changes I made when I inked over the drawing did not come through well. However, this was a quick pencil sketch, and overall I am pleased with it. I wanted to recreate the Gerber baby with my own precious little grandchild. This is Erica. the older of the two by one minute. Sometimes Erica looks a little bigger than Megan; she usually weighs just a few ounces (4 or 5) more than Megan, and she was slightly larger at birth. These little cuties barely hit the ground at the picnic yesterday. It was nice to see that Cassie put them down in the grass where they could explore their world. We couldn't help but smile, remembering how Jack would cry when his bare feet touched grass at the same age.

The elusive drawing that recalls a summer day

2008-07-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

2008-07-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

August. So hot, so humid, everything sticks. Walking feels more like wading in this heavy air. The road in front of the house is blacktop.
Even so, dust clings to everything. Everywhere else is green and lush, summer at its zenith, trees fully leafed, flowers fully bloomed, and for the children a sense that time is fully stopped, hanging in the air.
But it is morning and the heat has not yet stilled their thirst for adventure. Through the house, the end of the road beckons.
"Mom, can we have a picnic lunch?"
"I guess so. What do you have planned?"
"We're going to ride our bikes to the end of the road."We're going to watch the planes."
Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper are dropped into brown paper bags. Apples. School thermoses filled with Kool-Aid. Potato chips. Mom packs a mean picnic.
Today, though, when tennis shoes meet bike pedals, the children turn the other way, a blue Huffy and a red Schwinn roll down the driveway and turn left onto the old, pot-holed road.
No traffic today. Mid-morning, mid-week, mid-summer, and not many cars have a need to travel down this country road. Across the way, deep in old Mrs Goike's pasture, cows drowse. Next door, the Goike house is closed up. The Goikes and their five kids away on vacation. Down at the corner, Mrs. Goike's dad pokes at his garden with a hoe. He waves at the children as they ride by.
Waiting for two cars to pass, they cross 21-Mile Road to the next leg of Sugarbush. Here, the trees grow close to the edge of the road, their branches sometimes meeting overhead. The sugar-beet fields that gave the road its name no longer exist. The air is a little cooler here, under the leafy canopy.
The bikes pass the Little Store, windows boarded over now. When they were younger, the children ran here on errands for mom. Now they pass the house where Stella and her brother Doug live. Their mom is really nice, but the kids woder why she doesn't stand up straight. She walks all hunched over like a witch. It will be many years before they hear of osteoporosis. Their dad is kind of scary and mean. As she rides by, the girl thinks of brown beer bottles.
Shirley's house sits in its yard on the right, like an old white hen on its next. Nothing moves. Somewhere a bird calls out. In the distance a dog barks.
Kathy's house is at the end of a long, long driveway. Her older brother is big and blonde. Kathy is so quiet and shy it is hard to be friends with her.
A little farther on they pass Kingsbury Drive, and now the trees thin out and finally end. All around is empty field. Out there, in all that field, is the end of the runway.
The ditch running alongside the road is dry. Here the children drop their bikes and settle into the cushion of the long grass. Cross-legged, they open paper bags whose tops have already begun to disintegrate from the grasp of sweaty hands.
In the distance a jet engine roars to life. Shining eyes focus on the far end of the runway. The jet shimmers in the haze and gathers speed. As it moves closer and closer, wheels lifting from the tarmac and folding into its belly, then roaring overhead into the sky.
"That was a C-5!" shouts the boy. He knows them all.
The girl doesn't care. She cringes at the noise, revels in the speed, and takes a bite of her sandwich.
This is how they pass the morning. The boy bounces with the joy of each take-off. Planes fascinate He dreams of being a jet pilot. She dreams of the places the planes are going.
It is a moment in their lives--a moment of fullness. Later they will stuff the remains of their picnic back into the paper bags. They will ride their bikes back home.

Sugarbush Road

2008-07-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

A Little More

2008-07-02T21:21:00.000-07:00

I had lunch today with a teacher friend. We had such a fun gossip; I completely enjoyed myself. That salad at Applebee's was wonderful. And I just love this friend. She is so funny and sharp.

I am thinking now, that I am feeling so mujch better than I was a month ago. Taking the month of medical leave was the right thing to do. I do blame my surgeon: he should have provided me with some restrictions. I tried to do too much too fast after my surgery. A four-day work week would have been an appropriate restriction to help me stay rested. Also, my schools should have reduced the demands on me for a period of time. But then, principals have so many things to take care of, they can't be responsible for their staff, too. They just don't have time to care about anyone who gets paid to be there. Their first priority (and I know this from 21 years of observation) is always to stand on their heads to make parents happy.

I don't care what the Twit (last post) thinks, I know I am a pretty woman, and intel-
ligent. Probably more intelligent than most men I ever have dated. I could name a few, and I win, hands down.

But somehow, as I grew up, I learned not to trust myself, but to believe that everyone else knew more than I about what was best for me. So...if a man told me something, I believed it was true. NOw, I understand that is not necessarily true, an I like men a lot. I especially like their physiology. I like their voices--the lower timber and the souondof their laughter. I'm sorry I work in a field which has so few men. Well. Enough.

Monday, June 30, 2008

2008-07-02T20:59:00.000-07:00

Time to check in with myself. I may have lost a pound, but I am not counting on that. My nerves are shot. I cannot get through a week without needing pepto bismol or kaopectate. It really wipes me out. On the plus side, I can proudly tell Oprah that I have not eaten within 2 hours of bedtime, and I have moved in some way every day. Some days I made it to Curves, other days I did the treadmill, anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes. This week it was 20 and my hip and leg are in a lot of pain. Perhaps I should cut down to five minutes per day, every day, and build up more slowly. I have cut out nearly all fast food and Ihave had no booze in weeks. I call this progress. I feel better.

I feel better enugh that I don't know why Im still single. I did meet a gentleman last week, through an online dating service. Understand that I use the term "gentleman" very loosely. The only thing this dude had in common with a gentleman was gender. His first comment to me was that my breasts were not quite as large ashe hoped they would be. Mea culpa. He did not understand bra sizing at all. Next was the inspection of my home: "How can you stand all this clutter?" "I don't look at it." Moral: where were you when your mother was teaching you manners? So far I am incredibly impressed with this man. He did say that his ultimate goal was marriage and he didn't want to bother if that wasn't my goal also. I see this twit as a control freak. He wants marriage so he can force his wife to meet his demanding appeites. I told him he needed to be looking into a bdsm site for a potential bride. Without going any further into this whole thing...I think he is too arrogant to recognise himself here. And yet...there was something kind of appealing about this poor little dude: a deep vulnerability and need to punish himself and humiliate himself. For what, I wonder? I find myself thinking of him the same way I did the Drunk. If only the right someone loved him enough, he could be healed. He needs deep, ongoing psychotherapy This little guy is so self-absorbed, he doesn't even know when there is another person in the room. Forunately for me, he decided I wasn't right for him. I am so proud of standing my ground and not giving in to his odd appetites. Mind, this guy will show up in one of my stories one day. He is 'way too interesting to pass up.

Time for a New Post

2008-06-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

I haven't done much since I last posted. I knit a little bit on a baby sweater--one I vaguely thought I would give to Marci for her new little girl, and I began a baby blanket, but haven't worked my heart out on anything at all. Friday I took my sketch pad to DD's house and sketched one of the twins. It came out surprisingly well, and I want to work on it some more, but DD can't remember to bring it back down here to me. If I had it, I would scan and post it. The little "Bless their Hearts" are busy girls these days, not content any longer with sitting quietly in their car seats. They have discovered Movement. Megn, the younger by one minute, and the one who hid behind Erica for most of her gestation, can sit up, and has pulled herself up to stand, unassisted, she loves to sing, and her favorite song is 'Mamamamamamamamamama". Erica gets up on all fours, then isn't sure what to do next. She never stops grinning. In fact, the only time I've seen them fuss is when their food is moved out of their sight. They truly follow in the family dedication to eating. Both girls get a little goofy when big bother Jack comes near them. They grin and chuckle, babble and wave their arms and kick their feet. He is already their hero. Now, I remember what kind of a little sister DD was to her brother, and I feel a little sympathy for what Jack will have to deal with -- and twins, yet!

When little twin boys lived across the street from Jack, Jack referred to them as "Robby and the other Robby". Those 3 little boys were such good friends that it broke our hearts to see the family move away. I hope St Louis is enjoying them. They called me "Gamma" from the beginning. I loved it. They would come running when I pulled into the driveway, and give me big hugs.

Jack will be coming down this week. He has had his older two cousins from Oregon here for a week, and has been the center of attention. The girls are 13 and 15; I am tickled that they call me Gramma Sherry. I feel like the Universal Grandma wherever I go. And I understand my mission: to give every child a smile and a few minutes of non-judgemental attention. That includes the little twits who roll past me in Target on their heelies. I hate those heelies. Kids come out of nowhere and startle me.

In other news, Houston has two new landowners today: my son and DIL have bought a home. i've seen pictures, and I can hardly wait to get there. It is truly beautiful. That home would cost close $300,000 out here, but they paid less than my little rambler is valued at. I'm amazed. Steve has repeatedly suggested we all relocate to Houston, but I'm scared of Houston. You can't go anywhere without fearing for your life on the freeways. I don't think I could adapt to driving there. And I don't know how else I would find a job and get to work.

On the plus side, it would be so wonderful to be altogether and have family gatherings, and let the cousins get to know each other. I could picture the six of them forming a little gang of desperados. The heat would dehydrate me so badly I might lose weight.

Speakin of losing weight: I have been good about my Opra/Bob Fit for Life or whatever it is. Yesterday I did 20 minutes on the treadmill, and the day before hat I went to Curves. I'm mad at Curves; I hope that worries them. They are changing the structure of our local club. I emailed them a long, scathing letter about it, and so far they have been too intimidted to respond. My son, the lawyer, says they probably can change everything in spite of the contract I signed. That pisses me off even more. Who do they think they are? Years ago I took aerobics from a local woman; she was great fun, and fashioned her classes so they fit everyone. I think she is still around. We ought to create our own club and let Curves go down in flames.

I didn't think I had much to write today, but look at this. And keep watching: "The Kissing Mouse" is a short story that will be coming soon. I'm off to the treadmill, aka grindstone. I love not working!

Some Success

2008-06-19T21:47:00.000-07:00

I've had several days since I joined Oprah's Best Life campaign, and I have been successful at restricting my calorie intake and avoiding fast foods; I've also been able to not eat for at least 2 hours every evening before bedtime.

I'm feeling pretty good about these things. I never drink, so avoiding alcohol was not a problem for me.

Yesterday I saw my psychiatric care provider, and today I met with my doctor. Both have given me a big Thumb's Up. Both remarked about how much more relaxed I am looking. Obviously, not working agrees with me. (So does the new gentleman I have met) I have not made it to Curves since last Saturday morning. I have to get a handle on that exercise. In fact, I am going from here straight to the treadmill.

The son of a good friend is a computer tekkie. He spent 3 1/2 hours here today, killing bugs in my computer. It was worth the money. He is a very nice young man. I would gladly refer him to anyone who is having computer issues.

Back later!

End of the Day

2008-06-16T02:40:00.000-07:00

I shopped almost til I dropped today. I hope that was enough walking! I was so tired by the time I got home, and Abby was fussing at me for her treats. She loves these Dingo Denta-treats I found at WalMart and also at Target. They are white, bone shaped, and are supposed tohelp her breath. She loves them. So does her cousin Francesca. I ended the day with a long phone call with a very nice man. It is kind of exciting to maybe have a new person in my life.

I was very careful of my eating today. I'm keeping to my contract with myself and Oprah and Bob. I am sure looking forward to finding some change in how my clothes fit.

Day Three

2008-06-15T13:33:00.001-07:00

I wonder if I need to give up my diet Cokes? I hear caffeine is a buster if one is trying to lose weight. It does seem to upset my stomach, and I've had enough of that kind of trouble, thank you very much.

I found a wonderful blog that I would love to add to my list; unfortunately it looks like it will have to wait until my DD has time to help me out. I'm so hopelessly NON-Tek, I'm amazed someone even let me have a computer. I'm like that old joke: "Do you still have the box your computer came in?" "Yes." "Good, now pack it all up and send it back. You are too stupid to own a computer."

I have high hopes for this day. I need to run to Target to pick up dogfood (my dog will be grateful). I'll get on that treadmill again, and I'll get some salad greens in the house. I can do this. I AM doing this!

Day Two

2008-06-14T23:16:00.000-07:00

In spite of no sleep all night, I got up around 9ish, got dressed, and headed out the door for Curves. By the time I got there it was 9:40 and I was due to meet my Saturday Sisters for coffee at 10:00. So I did a partial circuit and cut my workout short, thinking I would make up some time later today on the treadmill. I got home, and had the worst chest pain I've ever had. I never had pain like this before my heart surgery. I was pretty sure it was acid reflux, and Tums were not handling it. So I drove myself over to Urgent Care, where I received a lecture about never driving myself anywhere if I have chest pain, especially with my history. I was told I should have called the paramedics and gone to an ER. They did an EKG on me, and Dr said it didn't look quite right, so they called the paramedics who took me down town to Tacoma General. I probably got there about noon. They ran labs, gave me an IV, and let me take a nap. When the labs finally came back, the doctor (I really liked this man) said after that many hours of chest pain, the labs should have shown something, and since they didn't I was going to be discharged with a diagnosis of: chest pain of unknown origin.

Yep. State of the art medical care. I persuaded the doctor to prescribe Prevacid for me, which controlled my acid reflux for many years before my insurance company decided I didn't need it. My doctor's viewpoint is that I need to know the difference between a heart attack and reflux. I didn't know whethr to put a nitroglycerin under my tongue or eat another handful of Tums. The pain was at a 10 when I first arrived, and I hd tears in my eyes..I was so scared of what might be going on. It now is 11:30 and i am home. I picked up my prescriptions, grabbed a junior bacon cheeseburger at Wendy's, and I guess I'll get back on the train tomorrow.

I still have pain in my chest. OH! They weighed me, and the biggest news is that I now am Officially 300 pounds. I am happy about that.

To My Credit

2008-06-13T23:32:00.000-07:00

I sat here and dithered, and finally decided to do 5 minutes on the treadmill before retiring for the night. It was such a comfortable, easy gait, i ended up doing ten minutes. It seems to have stirred up my heartburn, but I'm sure I will sleep well knowing I have moved today.

Living my Best Life

2008-06-13T21:45:00.000-07:00

RE: Opray, June 13, 2008.
This looks like an opportunity to turn a bad luck day into a good luck day. Not that I really believe in luck. Bob Green's Best Life Challenge:
1. Get moving
2. Quit eating two hours before bedtime
3. Get hydrated (6 8-oz glasses of water per day)
4/5. restructure your eating: nutritious breakfast; cut out alcohol.

Well, I downloaded the contract, and I read it before I signed it. I am in the habit of getting over to Curves pretty regularly, and I can really tell the difference when I don't make it. Those days I am stiff and I ache all over.

Those stories featured on her show tonight are inspirational. I want something that will inspire me for more than tongight. I had open heart surgery at 314 pounds. The heart surgey was dangerous enough, but at that weight, I am a miracle of survival.

I am a Child of God, created in His Image, an imperfect human being, striving for happiness in this lifetime, striving to achieve what God has planned for me.

I will try to keep a journal here of my progress. This is about keeping my diabetes numbers appropriate, increasing my ability to move, and increasing my energy.

My Affirmation

2008-06-10T21:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, with my therapist, I worked on my personal affirmation. I want something I can say to myself to help ease the pain when I am beating myself up too much. There is a perfect quote, something Gandhi said, and I cannot remember it. I am Sherry, a Creation of God, who knew me before Time. I am created in His Image, with many imperfections. I do not have to be perfect to be loved by God, and I am not defined by the people I work for. I am defined by those who love me and who are willing, through God's Grace, to forgive my failures and imperfections. I lay my imperfections at His feet, an offering.

2008-06-10T21:02:00.001-07:00

2008-06-10T21:02:00.000-07:00

Cozy Mysteries

2008-06-03T20:42:00.000-07:00

What is a cozy, you ask? Generally, it is a mystery set in a "cozy" setting, such as a small English village, a manor house, a train...a setting in which the suspects are gathered in a generalized location and are easy to watch and easy to contact. I think Agatha Christie invented the cozy with her Miss Marple series, and with Hercule Poirot to a lesser extent. The dastardly murder takes place off-scene, so the reader is saved the gore and grisly details, and are left with the puzzle to solve: was it the butler? the gardener? Mr Abernathy's second wife? Cozies have many red herrings, and the denouement at the end is most fun if it is a surprise and the last person the reader expected.

The Cozy genre is very popular in today's market. I belong to a Yahoo group called "Cozy Armchair Group," in which many readers and a number of authors share their thoughts and opinions on various mysteries currently in print. As I read others' opinions, my opinions become a little more finely developed. I have decided, for example, I don't like mysteries solved by cats and dogs with human cognitive thinking. That's just silly. Judging by their following, many other people really enjoy them, so it's great for those people that there authors who write those books. I have favorite authors, and I will read nearly anything these authors write: Joanne Dobson, for example, writes literary-related mysteries. I like the illusion that I am learning a little something about another subject while I am unraveling the puzzle. Another author, Barbara Michaels, also writes in this vein. Many of her mysteries have dealt with specific subject matter including Egyptology, vintage clothing, jewelry, and I absolutely love the smidgen of supernatural sprinkled into her stories. Unfortunately for me, she also writes as Elizabeth Peters, and has set a series of books in Egypt with a heroine many years ahead of herself as a Modern Woman. These books have become so predictable they aren't fun for me anymore, and these are the books that seem to sell best for her, as she throws most of her effort into grinding out more. (I realize this is heresy to her true fans--for this reason, my address will not be published.)

I like small village settings, especially England or New England: these setting provide the most likelihood for characters and resentments that can lead to mayhem. I like to have a plot that somehow transverses time...through an old journal, or the discovery of antiques, but somehow connects present time with time past.

Heroines these days, our amateur sleuths, have become cliched: they are shy young women who suddenly rear up on their haunches and take on the world. Not realistic. What about a protagonist who remains meek and mild? but still manages to unravel the details? I often find a love interest whose main role is to tell the protagonist to stay out of things and mind her own business. Wouldn't it be fun to have a hero who encourages the heroine? Someone who actually helps our sleuth? Someone who believes in her?

Another cliche these days is the title that is a terrible pun. While these punny titles do catch my attention, they don't induce me to buy. One of these days, I will be writing my own cozy, and I intend to break a couple of rules. It is a matter of getting around to it...

Mental Health

2008-05-26T11:40:00.000-07:00

I met with Human Resources last week. I don't think I convinced them two schools is too much for one person. On the other hand, they did agree to give me medical leave through the end of the school year. My buddy, Bob, has been telling me since January that I went back to work too fast after the open heart surgery. I believe him. As I see it, I had no time to ease back into routine and get used to working again--I jumped back in with both feet at a dead run. The bottom line is that I am not keeping up, I am aware of making mistakes, forgetting things, and feeling so much anxiety.

I even had a coworker tell me it was "time to step up" by which she meant, I assume, that in her opinion I was cured and needed to get with it. Not true. The fact that I am walking upright, doesn't mean everything is back to normal. At no point did any administrator suggest we might ease the workload slightly. When my two principals worked out my alternating day schedule, my workload actually increased. While I was able to keep up with it, I enjoyed feeling so productive. I was visiting five or six classrooms a week, and running four or five groups per week. I also mad an attempt at keeping a daily log of all that I was doing--that ended up feeling like even more work...extra and unnecessary paperwork to prove to someone unknown that I am actually working.

One principal is never around to notice when I stay until 5:30 finishing things, but she sure did nail me for taking an extra 10 minutes at lunch the other day. Maybe I should have interrupted the teacher's math lesson to talk to her about a student, but instead I took time and caught her at lunch. Of course, lunch is supposed to be duty free, according to WA state law.

I do wish I could just work with the kids. I don't know how to set that up. I know the person to ask for help, if ever we had an opportunity to talk and share ideas.

So...I am job hunting.

Working my way back to good health

2008-05-18T15:25:00.000-07:00

Today my dear Son in law went with me to pick up a treadmill. Someone on one of my daughter's groups, was giving it away to anyone who would take it out of their house. It is a mid-range treadmill, electric, and folds for storage. I do work out 3 days a week, and I want to walk. I enjoy walking. BUT my back starts to ache so soon, that I can't walk very far. On the treadmill, I have something to hold onto to help support my back. This beautiful machine even has a place to put a book. Forget tv, I want to read whenever I can, and I am so delighted that I will be able to do that and walk. Going to Curves every other day is great and has me feeling so good, that I want to do something physical on the in-between days. I have been told that muscles need 24 hours to heal between workouts. This seems like the perfect solution!

I had my Jacky over here yesterday. First we went to Walmart and he picked out a small backyard pool, and then we looked at 2-wheel bikes with training wheels and he found a spiderman bike that was just his cup of tea. So, new pool, new bike, new helmet and elbow & knee pads, new Lightning McQueen shirt and a pair of shorts he can wear when he is 20, and a tanktop for me, and some Tums. My insurance company doesn't like me to take Aciphex for reflux, so they won't let me get a reflill. I feel like I need to throw up and I can't eat (that could be due to an event at work the other day, too). And after I use the hair color, my roots will be natural blonde again.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Jack told me "Dat was some awesome shopping yaya. Good job!" He had every reason to be happy. This little boy says the most encouraging things. When I put on a new nightgown one night, one he hadn't seen before, he exclaimed, "Wow, Yaya, I weawwy weawwy wike dat one@" "Dat is so pwetty@"

One day I had strung a string between to cupboard door knobs, and clothespinned some roses to dry. He was so excited when he walked in the kitchen and saw that, he could hardly contain himself. He jumped up and down and told me how pwetty it was and how much he wiked it. It has been there about six weeks now.

Before I picked him up yesterday, he and mom and dad had gone to a company barbecue where he played hard in a mini-waterpark out in the sun. Then we spent the afternoon blowing up the pool and playing in it out back. Of course he had to ride his new bike, while I walked along trying to keep up. As many times as he circkled back to check on me, he probably rode five miles. Last night we went over to his house and had pizza. He climbed up on my lap and put his head down on my breast and went soundly asleep. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful day. Our temps were in the 80s yesterday. We had snow at the end of April. As Popeye would have said, "Large weather we're having."

The babies are on the move. Megan has begun low crawling (my Army pal told me that is what it is called). She also was holding her bottle last night. Erika, a whole minute older and at birth the slightly larger of the two, is fairly content to lie back and wait for people to wait on her. Last night Mama reached to pick her up and she became so Excited. Her little arms and legs were waving as hard as they could. These little dumplings weighed barely 8 pounds altogether at birth and now are over 15 lbs apiece. They are absolutely mahvelous, dahling; just mahvelous.

"And that's the way it is, on May 18, 2008, in Lakewood, WA."

Wonderful Women

2008-05-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Pat: met in 7th grade, and stayed friends for...40 years. Pat and I shared an interest in art; we had a lot of classes together in junior high, and went to the same church. From Pat I learned there was Sunday School for kids my age. We joined MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship) and shared weekend retreats, many secrets about the boys we liked, and sometimes feeling unpopular. Pat was well-liked by everyone. AND her dad was principal of our high school.

Kathy: Also met Kathy in seventh grade; probably 1962. After all these many years, we reconnected this past year because of our 40th high school reunion. No, that doesn't work out mathematically. If I met Kathy in 1962, and it is now 2007, but we graduated in 1967...THAT is 40 years, and Ihave known both Kathy and Pat for closer to 45 years, I think. My strong areas were art and literature. Not math.
I always liked Kathy. Unfortunately, Bob made Kathy's life a living hell in school. It was terribly unfair, and I am ashamed that I never spoke out against what Bob was doing to her. He bullied her and browbeat her, plain and simple. I was so afraid of being 'tarred with the same brush' that I never spoke up. I wish I could change that now. I am deeply grateful that Kathy is part of my life now.

Anita: I met Anita when she was a PTA mom at the school where I worked. When she showed up at my church one Sunday, I invited her to teach Vacation Bible School with me. We became close, and she is my sister in so many ways. Neither of us has extended family here in the area, and have adopted each other. Anita put her arms around me the day I learned my mother had died. Many times she has allowed me to shed my tears on her shoulder. And although he is not a woman, her husband Greg has always made me feel like I had someone looking after me.

Gisela: A beautiful German woman, the mother of the man I loved more passionately than any other (except Elvis). Gisela accepted me so that I felt almost part of her family. She was a wonderful, giving woman with a tremendous heart. She gave up her life and home in Germany to marry a soldier and raise his children here in the US. It was such a sacrifice; I can only imagine what it might have been like for her. I know that to her stepson, she was completely his mother. He doted on her and almost worshipped her. She deserved it.

Liz: a work friend who greets me each day with a beautiful smile, and always treats me as if it is a treat to have me working with her. Liz, you are amazing.

Kirsten: a Daughter In Law who is a gift from God. She brings joy to me when I see her with my son, and I see the love between them. She is so tolerant and patient with him, just as she is with those amazing children she has borne. Not much of a talker, but warm and loving in everything she does.

Cassie: my daughter, and my dear friend. I hate how much I have come to depend on my daughter. I want to still be the mom, the strong one who can fix anything, but more and more I lean on Cassie to do the fixing for me. She is so smart and level-headed; she never dithers, but gets straight to the heart of things.

Kathy: the therapist who allows me to cry and be as imperfect as I am. Never judging, but always reminding me to be kind to myself.

Chris: a warm, huggy friend who takes care of me. When I feel afraid, I know I can go to Chris and she will tease gently, offer me a tidbit of wisdom, and remind me that I matter.

Charlotte: as a boss, as a principal, Charlotte is strong but not overpowering. She has a gentle way of telling me when I need to step up.

Tina: another principal, another boss. Tina has had a lot of adversity to overcome, I think, to be in the position of principal. The school she is in charge of is a hard one. I find I may not always agree with the things she does or the decisions she makes, but I respect her position, and do my best to do a good job for her.

All of these women have touch my life over the years. There are many more I have failed to mention. On this Mother's Day, I would like to mention my mom, Gladys, who said to me once, "Sherry, if you love me, please never name a child after me." Mom always hated her name. I don't believe she had a happy childhood. At this point, I should mention her sister, Aunt Helen, who was the Best of the Best. To this day, I completely believe that Aunt Helen prayed for me and is the reason I have made it this far in life. She was my Other Mother; I often wished I could live with her. I always felt unconditional positive love from Aunt Helen. I am so sorry that mom and Aunt Helen are gone. They have left a hole in the world, and in my heart.

2008-05-11T20:53:00.001-07:00

Your True Love Is a Cancer

Why you'll love a Cancer:

Cancer's loyal and sincere heart makes your own sensitive heart melt.

Caring and devoted, a Cancer will take the lead in pursuing you - and not give up!

Why a Cancer will love you:

You're laid back enough to deal with Cancer's little mood swings and freak-outs.

A fellow homebody, you know how make Cancer comfortable and at home with you.

What Sign Is Your True Love?

Yahoo Messenger

2008-04-20T10:14:00.000-07:00

About a month ago I discovered Yahoo Instant Messenger. Since then, I've met some interesting people and spent a lot of hours enjoying the company of some nice guys. Today, Sunday, I am debating about going to church. I haven't been there in months. It is nice to know God is waiting when I decide I am in need. The attraction of the computer and the IMs is a lot more fun than sitting in church trying to read the song words off the wall where they are projected.

It is a mystery to me why that is better than holding the hymnal in my own hands at the precise distance needed from my eyes. We have a "new" praise service that leaves me kind of cold. Many of us had attended the Walk to Emmaus, a weekend course of study sponsored by the Upper Room Ministries. We could never persuade ur choir director to attend, and his choice of music reflected that: old, ponderous, formal, stultifying, unimaginative. Ultimately he was replaced by someone young and energetic and inspired.

I am a person who likes to think. The newer service doesn't give me time to reflect and savor the experience of worshipl I prefer what I have been accustomed to all these years, and that is what we have at the 11:00 service. I have half an hour to decide and get ready to go. What is it going to be? I guess I'll go. I miss my friends.