Seventeen

At seventeeen, you are so grown up, and yet still young. Teen birthdays seem like such milestones as you are handed more responsibility every year. It's hard to believe that you have exactly one year left until you are officially declared an adult. (It's a government thing. I'm not sure when it was decided or who made the rule. Someone decided if you mess something up, we the parents don't have to fix it. You are legally responsible.) So have a very happy birthday and a wonderful year being 17.

And for fun, here is a short recap of year 16.

The end of Pom Season

Your First Denver Nuggets Game

Spring-1st popcicle of the year

End of your sophomore year & Sarabeth's graduation

Aloha!

Camping Trips (The first was with Christopher & Lauren-you loved it so much, you went several more times.)

Summer at Elitches!

Homecoming Dance with who else, but David (He shows up a lot in pictures.)

You gained a sister

First time shooting a gun

After your first accident, you thought driving with Ethan was safer.

Wearing new glasses with your favorite nephew

Are you the most favorite Auntie?

Saying good-bye to Christopher & Lauren for a year.

Happy 17th Birthday Hilary! May you be blessed throughout the year.

And What A Birthday It Was

Traditionally we go out to dinner for my birthday. This year I was in the mood for lobster. I can't recall the last time I ate it. (One of those memorable events when I was sickened, no doubt.) But Michael phoned ahead and was assured the lobster was previously frozen. I should have no problem eating it.

First thing Friday morning, the phone rang. A call from Korea! It was so much fun talking with Christopher and Lauren and the perfect start to my birthday. Christopher was shocked that I'd consider going out for seafood. I thought about it. I wondered....what was I thinking??? Well, I had considered my inlaws observance of Lent and how easily seafood would fit into their plans. I had a brilliant idea, fish tacos, cheese enchiladas, bean tostadas. Mexican food began to sound absolutely delicious.

I must have been divinely inspired, as we went to a place that pleased everyone. Here's the most important one to keep happy:

Ethan and his dinosaur balloon


These two appear happy

I could be wrong, but I believe Brian and Elisabeth enjoyed their meal,


immensely!

Hilary & David-Ethan is highly entertained by them

Christina, Ethan , & Sarabeth- a happy trio:

The sombrero lady

And the happiest two of all.

Friday the 13th, Woohoo!

Fun & Freaky Facts (about me) for Friday the 13th

1. Thirteen is my favorite number

2. When you put on deodorant, which arm do you apply it to first? Is it the same every day? I wondered this myself. I reach with my right, so that means left. For variety, I decided to mix things up. I'd alternate. I turned the label facing left in order to remember to apply to the right side first the following day. I did this for a month. I was told I "must have too much time on my hands." Maybe I do.

3. Michael & I met in a coffee shop. He was with his girlfriend. I was his waitress.

4. My first date with Michael was disastrous.

5. I've been married over 25 years.

6. I've wanted a houseful of kids for as long as I can remember. Is it too late to have a dozen?

7. If each of my kids has 5 children, I'll have 25 grandchildren. Will my home be full?

8. I don't go anywhere without my hair fixed and makeup done. Since becoming an adult, I can count on one hand how many days I didn't wear makeup.

9. I've tried applying makeup by feel & without a mirror, just in case I ever lose my eyesight. I wouldn't want to scare others by looking different. Would anyone tell me, if I used black eyeliner on my lips instead of a lipliner?

10. I accidently used black eyeliner on my lips. I smeared it on in the car, right before going in to church.

11. I want to be a contestant on the television show, Survivor. The hardest part would be not wearing makeup.

12. I have never ever, used the slang word referring to a gas emission from the buttocks that begins with the letter after E. And I never intend to. I find it highly offensive. And if I'd said the letter it begins with, you might have immediately thought of another vulgarity. Which is why I didn't.

13. Today is my birthday and I love when it falls on a Friday!

The Unthinkable

It hung near the corner of the wall, almost inconspicuously. But by the end of the first day, I noticed it. Eighteen inches long and 3/4 of an inch thick, it hung by a thin leather strap. I knew the purpose of this plank of wood. So did everyone else in Miss Bate's 7th grade class.

Not a single 7th grade boy matched the stature of Miss Bate. The only thing close was her girth. She wasn't a pleasant teacher, but the daily, mean-spirited jokes were not nice. I often felt sorry for her. More than once, she caught crude drawings of herself, as they were passed between desks amid snickers. She'd crumple them, walk to her desk, and throw the wad into the wastebasket.

One time this happened, I sat at my desk horrified. I could not believe students could be so cruel. I'd caught a glimpse of the picture. Someone had drawn herwith a pig nose and a line pointing it out, along with warts and other ugly things. My sorrow for her quickly turned to fear when Miss Bate walked to the corner of the room and pulled the plank of wood from its place.

"Jimm," she said in an almost monotone. Walking towards the door of our class she spoke again, "Come with me." Jimmy stood up. He didn't look the least bit afraid. I was petrified for him. My older brother had told me stories of how Miss Bate wound up like a batter, before swinging. The standard practice of getting a swat was outside the door of the classroom. I'm not sure why. In elementary school, kids were swatted at the front of the classroom. Everyone watched. I think it was meant to deter other students from committing the same offenses.

Miss Bate didn't go outside for the sake of privacy. Outside meant that the boys & girls P.E. classes would stop what they were doing, to point & laugh at the student getting swats. That is except for that day. I didn't witness this myself, but my brother happened to be outside playing ball when the incident occurred. He later explained what took place outside of Miss Bates classroom.

Inside the rest of the class sat silent. Waiting. We silently counted the sound of each smack. Sometimes it was once or twice. But if a teacher was very angry 3 or 4 whacks were heard. It seemed a long time before we heard anything. Was that a yelp? We waited. Nothing. Students began looking from one to the other wondering what was going on outside. Ten minutes later, Miss Bate appeared in the doorway, redfaced. She hung her paddle back on the nail & smoothed her hair. She picked up her book and began teaching again.

The story my brother told at dinner that night, I don't think my parents believed. After taking Jimmy outside that day, Miss Bate had him assume the position. All of the bad kids new it. Bend over, grab your ankles. My brother stood up to show what happened next. "She grabbed that paddle with both hands and pulled it back far. Honestly, she looked like she was a batter winding up to bat." He stood holding an imaginary bat or paddle, twisted back as far as he could. He continued, "you know she has holes drilled in that thing so she can swing it faster." I could tell my dad wasn't impressed. He might have even rolled his eyes.

"I could tell she was so mad." Greg continued his very animated story. "And then she swung for all she was worth." Then Greg busted out laughing, practically falling to the floor. My dad was not amused. Greg tried to continue. "You should have seen her. Dad, you would have laughed too. As she was swinging," he positioned himself as a batter again, "as hard as she could, Jimmy jumped out of her way." My brother then spun himself around in a circle imitating what might have happened as Miss Bate missed her target. And then he was on the floor laughing. I think I caught the start of a grin at the corners of dad's mouth. "And then she dragged him to the Principal's office. I heard that Mr. Arredondo gave him 20 swats."

I'm not sure what made me remember this story from 7th grade. But can you imagine anything like this happening in today's classrooms? No, not a student humiliating the teacher, but a teacher administering swats with a wooden board while the student was bent over holding his ankles. This took place just 33 years ago. My how things have changed.

Story In Pictures

The Jetsons

Forty-six years ago, the Jetsons cartoon was created. It was my favorite Saturday Morning Cartoon. This was back-in-the-day when Saturday morning was the only time television aired programming just for kids. My how that has changed.

I loved the ease & technology of the Jetson's lifestyle. A push of a few buttons and presto! Out popped your favorite meal. I couldn't wait until real life caught up to the space-age Jetsons. Zooming around space in auto-piloted crafts, a robotic maid for the household chores, and a telephone which came with a screen so you could actually see the person with whom you were talking. I dreamed about the day.

Surely by the time I was old, like 40 something, I'd be living the life of ease & technology. But I've yet to step onto a conveyer belt with bed hair and emerge seconds later powdered and puffed, fully dressed, perfectly coiffed hair, ready for my homemaking job. With everything automated, what did Jane Jestson do? There's no Rosie around cleaning up after me. (But some of you might enjoy hearing her speak to you from your fancy cars, directing your every move.) And before piping hot food pops out of a box, I have to manually remove it from the freezer and place it in the microwave.

Oh, but I do enjoy space age telephones. In fact, we used ours over the weekend. It's called Skype. Here we are huddled around it.

We chatted with these 2, who are not in outerspace, but15 hours ahead of us on the other side of the world.

24 Hours

Friday was the beginning of Ethan's 24 hour EEG. The Neurology department said he held the record for pulling off wires on his previous ambulatory EEG. That was on Sarabeth's birthday last June.

Ethan has been doing so well, I was very hopeful that this time would go smoother.

It began on a positive note. But as soon as he was wired and wrapped, his countenance changed. He looked so sad.


I tried to post these pics from my phone, but they wouldn't upload. It is probably a good thing. One photo he was crying and I'm glad it didn't load.

Later in the evening, I went home. Hilary & Elisabeth were there to help. They ended up staying quite late, as Ethan began vomitting. That was a bit unnerving. Probably has nothing to do with it, but in December Children's Hospital was cited with food violations by the Health Department. At the time, they claimed no child became sick as a result of these violations. But I have to wonder, since he went in well.

Aside from a possible side illness, the staff at Children's is wonderful. One of the maintenance workers found batteries for Ethan's train set and even changed the batteries for him.

This morning, bright and early, Sarabeth headed up to the hospital to be with Christina and Ethan. Feeling a bit under the weather myself, I feel so blessed to have a large family who supports one another. Michael, who isn't a dog lover, took over the care of Daisy.

I can't imagine life without a large family.

Wednesday

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotton the words." Donna Roberts

Ethan Eats

Ethan cracks me up and impresses me every time I see him.

Last night, after sleeping for 2 hours, he came bolting out of the bedroom. Looking dazed and not really awake, he began mumbling. I had no idea what was going on with him. But then I recognized his signing. He was signing "eat."

"Ethan, are you hungry?" He nodded and signed eat. How could I deny him?

He took me by the hand and led me to the refrigerator. Both doors were flung open as he browsed the contents.

"How about a pretzel?" I asked, as I pulled them out of the freezer and tried to shut the doors.

"NO!" He pushed them back open, & pushed the pretzels back in place. He was searching for something. I continued to offer what I thought he'd eat. More emphatic "no's." Finally he pointed. A bag of frozen french fries. Ugh! He didn't really expect me to cook french fries, did he?

"You want french fries???"

It was unmistakable. He signed please, over and over, while nodding his head.

Guess who fried 3 batches of french fries at 9:30 last night? I've never seen a kid eat so many french fries and keep asking for more.

Dear Christopher

Dear Christopher,

It's hard to believe this day has finally arrived. Some didn't believe it would happen, but I was pretty confident it would. And here we are.

There's so much I want to say; how proud I am of you and how excited I am for you & Lauren. You are leaving as newlyweds and will return as a strong family unit.

I sit reflecting the man you've become, but remember the little boy. The almost 2 year old who wanted to be the diaper man, driving a big truck, delivering large sacks of soft, comfortable diapers. The six year old boy who proclaimed he was having 10 children when he grew up. When asked by his dad how he would provide for them, what job he would have, he declared, "I'll be a dad, silly."

You aren't a dad just yet. But you are about to become a teacher to many. For those young boys and girls, you will be a father-figure. You can be a living example of our Heavenly Father. In order to be that father to them, you will need to take the time each and every day with God, allowing Him to fill you with His love, His passion, & His desires. He will renew your strength day-by-day. As you are filled with the Holy Spirit, you will be driving a large truck, loaded with good things. To each child you encounter, you can clothe them with a soft, comfortable garment of love. You can provide something they lack.

Be strong and of good courage. Stand tall as a tree of righteousness, planted beside still waters. And know that I am here to support you, encourage you, and pray for you. I love you son!


(P.S. Anyone want to keep up with Lauren & Christopher in Seoul, you'll find the link in my sidebar: HawsSeoul)

What's Happening

Tomorrow is a big day here and I've been trying not to think about it. Probably the biggest reason I haven't been around. If I don't blog about it, it won't happen. But since I've mentioned it now, I guess it is for real. Christopher & Lauren are leaving for South Korea.

And I'm hoping someone will share pictures from Elisabeth's 22nd birthday, which was Monday.

Where Is The Love?

Last week I announced I wanted to have a week of positive love posts & wanted to do a giveaway to share that love. I was sidetracked. Valentine's Day happened to be my dad's 70th birthday.

I received a text from my sister that they wanted to share funny stories with dad for his birthday. I asked her to clarify. She proceeded to talk about a memory jar she'd made for her mother-in-law's 70th birthday. Memory jars are wonderful gifts. We made one for my inlaws. Someone had the idea to include photos. Guess what I spent a lot of time doing?

While sifting through photographs, I smiled & laughed a lot. But I noticed a feeling of sadness begin to settle into my soul. The pictures caused me to miss my family that lives in Arizona, and what happend to all of those little kids? Time passes so very quickly.

On Friday, Christopher phoned. One of the groomsmen from his wedding, and best friend from high school's mother died. She committed suicide. The day before Valentine's Day. I couldn't help but wonder if this day, set aside for romance and love, contributed in any way to whatever drove her to wanting to end it all. So sad.

And maybe, I am trying hard not to think about Christopher and Lauren leaving next Thursday on their grand adventure. I'm excited for them, but it isn't easy knowing they will be on the other side of the globe. It will be a life-changing experience for sure.


Watching our current government has also shifted my focus.

“In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem. From time to time we've been tempted to believe that society has become too complex to be managed by self-rule, that government by an elite group is superior to government for, by, and of the people. Well, if no one among us is capable of governing himself, then who among us has the capacity to govern someone else? All of us together, in and out of government, must bear the burden.”

—Ronald Reagan, First Inaugural Address

Compare that to our current president's idea of government:

“It is only government that can break the vicious cycle.”
-President Obama.

Remind Me Dear Lord

The things that I love
I hold dear to my heart
They are borrowed and
Not mine at all
Jesus only let me use them
To brighten my life
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Roll back the curtain of memory now and then
Show me where you brought me from and
Where I could have been
Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Nothing good have I done
To deserve God's own Son
I'm not worthy of the scars
In His hands
Yet he chose the road to Calvary
To die in my stead
Why He loved me I can't understand

Roll back the curtain of memory now and then
Show me where you brought me from and
Where i could have been
Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

Just remember I'm a human and human's forget
So remind me, remind me dear Lord

(This is an old song that I love. Definitely has the country twang.)

How Appropre!

For those not living in Denver:
Just hours after President Obama signed the Stimulus Bill, the Democratic Congressional Delegation held a Stimulus Celebration & Explanation Party. Attended by mostly democrats, invited by Progress Now Colorado, the event was held at Hamburger Mary's.

For those unfamiliar with Hamburger Mary's, nightly entertainment includes:
"Drag Queen Bingo"-held on Tuesday Nights (which was last night)
"Dream Girls"
"Slut Bingo"
& one of their newest, "Beyond Drag-where fantasy hits the dance floor."

Recently appointed Colorado Senator Michael Bennet, former superintendant of Denver Public Schools, was there to answer questions about the newly signed bill.

Why does this not surprise me? It was quoted by President Obama, "These are the types of every day people we are out to help." Another pet project of the Democrats: promoting the homosexual agenda.

A Letter To President Obama

Dear Mr. President,

Please don't come to my state tomorrow to sign the infamous $787 Billion economic stimulus bill. What happened to your promise of change, reaching out to the other side and becoming more bipartisan? Your excuse was something needed to happen fast, pass this bill in a hurry. But you had no problem waiting a few days in order to make a public granstand by signing it in Denver? It could have been signed quite efficiently in the Oval Office. Come on, Mr. President, where is your integrity?

What will the cost be for you to board Air Force One, fly to Colorado with your entourage to sign a bill that creates an enormous debt for our children & grandchildren? How much money will our city fork out for added security to accomodate this ostentatious stopover of yours?

Please don't bring your pork-filled spending bill here to sign. Mr. President, you made several promises to the American public:

"To make it impossible for congress to sneak pork barrel projects into law."

Really? This bill is riddled with pet pork projects.

You promised to "make government more open & transparent, eliminating meetings where laws are written secretly, out of the public eye."

Seems like much of this bill was written in secret, shutting out Republican lawmakers.

Mr. President, I am trying hard to understand why you feel the need to come to Colorado for this historic event. Back in August, you accepted the Democratic Party's nomination as the first black man to run for president, in Denver. I was hopeful. Quite possibly, as a nation we could finally put race and its prejudices aside and truly become the United States Of America. Your own words were:

"I will restore our moral standing, so that America is once again that last best hope for all who are called to the cause of freedom, who long for lives of peace, who yearn for a better future."

But Mr. President, in office less than a month, you've already weakened that hope. Not only have you gone back on your promises, but you are about to sign one of the most contoversial pieces of legislation ever. You want to remind us of the historic nature of your nomination in an attempt to make this bill more palatable. Let's create historical & monumental moments to rally the American public together to make this bitter pill easier to swallow. As a Coloradan, I am not fooled by this attempt to sugar coat this massive, devisive legislation. Colorado is home to the National Renewable Energy Laboratory. You will sign the bill at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science which sports the largest solar panel source in our state. But what does this do to restore our moral standing for all who are called to freedom who long for peace?

I'm afraid I may find myself at the anti-stimulus rally: Barak Obama You Don't Know Stimulus

A Mother's Love

Christina & Ethan

The best way to give Ethan breathing treatments-while sleeping. He fights it a lot less.

A Week Of Love

I love and hate Valentine's Day. It's been a time of fun, creativity, giving, love & chocolate. The day has brought hurt, disappointment, tears, broken hearts, break-ups & sadness. I've talked to many who would like the holiday banned. Truthfully, I've felt the same way many times. But rather than focus on the negative this year, I'd like to set my heart on the joy of giving.

More to come on this!

Friendship

The Singing Owl at The Owl's Song gave me this Friendship award. Being the month with the Love/Valentine holiday, I thought I'd pass it along. Like Singing Owl, I am amazed at the friendships I've obtained via the internet and blogging. I am thankful for all of them. I'm supposed to give it to 8 other people. Instead, I'm awarding it to all of my blogging friends who are on my blog list. The comments and encouragement from each of you has been amazing. Love you all!

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

So if you feel so inclined, please grab the button/paragraph, and pass it along. Oh, and please check out the Owl's Song. Plenty of food for thought.

Thunk Thursday

I read labels on food. Ethan can't eat milk or milk protein. It can be tricky, as milk is often hidden in obscure ingredients. I appreciate labels that boldly print CONTAINS: MILK. Sometimes labels are a bit overdone. This one cracked me up.


I suppose if one didn't know it before, they know now. Tilpia is fish. I wonder if the milk jug reads "CONTAINS MILK" after the ingredients.

Growing Old Gracefully-Not Me

Don't get me wrong, Grace is a wonderful thing. Without God's grace, where would I be? It is an amazing gift to receive. Growing older happens whether I believe in it or not. You young people will have to trust me on this one. No matter how thin you are, how fresh and vibrant your skin looks, or how much you work out, your body is headed downhill. Fast. The cool thing about Grace is, your inward person can be renewed daily. The outside? Well, you can do a lot to preserve it, but it is going to age whether you like it or not.

When I was much younger, I loved reading the scriptures of gray hair being a crown of glory. I was actually excited to embrace that crown. My dad has beautiful white hair. As long as I can remember, he has had at least some gray. Even in his twenties. I inherited his curly hair, so why not his white hair? My hair would be glowing!

As I grew closer to the mature age of 40, I changed my mind. When someone mistook me for being Hilary's grandmother, that did it for me. I ditched the white hair for some color. I will continue in my inward renewal, even though my outward self is deteriorating. But why shouldn't my outward appearance reflect what's on the inside? I choose to add as much life and color as possible as long as I'm able. One day, maybe I will be ok with the proverbial crown of glory. For now, I'm keeping it fired up red.

(For anyone interested in my hair saga in pictures, I've posted them here. A friend is nearing 40 and in a quandary as to what to do with her own hair. So I shared my obsession with her.) If you feel dead inside, ask God to ignite the fire.

Super Bowl Menu

Not sure why I am having such a hard time with my superbowl menu. I add items, subract, scrap the whole plan and start over. But now I am stuck One item will adorn our menu no matter what. Brisket. Because even if I wanted to, it wouldn't fit in my freezer to save for a later date. Who buys a 13 pound chunk of meat? I doubt I need anything else on the menu. There is no way we could eat all of that. I don't own a pan large enough to cook it either.

So we are having Beef Brisket Sandwiches. I hope it isn't a huge failure. I'll be posting the rest of the menu and how it turns out on my recipe page. Wish me luck. It's a beast.

My Favorite Season

Summer has always been my favorite month. Think about that for a moment. Yes, someone did say that. (Anyone from Minnesota?)

My inlaws were here for dinner on Sunday, as they always are. Often we sit on the front porch before we eat, and eat our meal on the back deck. I love being outdoors. My father-in-law came in and said, "I don't think I'm going to sit outside. It's too hot!" I had to chuckle. This is the same man who lived in Phoenix for the past 40+ years. I recall visiting him in the summer. In the late afternoons, when I thought it couldn't possibly get any hotter, he'd grab himself a frosty mug of ice cold beer, go outside in the heat, and read the newspaper.

Now for some, this might not seem like a big deal. If that is the case, you've never been to Arizona in the summer. Barefoot in the park? Nobody goes barefoot, except for a visitor to the area who doesn't realize that one step on the hot sidewalk is equivalent to standing in a frying pan while it is heated on the stove. I tell you, Phoenix in the summer is hotter than hot.

For Sarabeth's 1st birthday, we were in Arizona. We planned an outdoor party at my inlaws. With the backyard pool, those who wanted to could cool off. That's another laugh. The water temperature in the pool is easily in the upper 80's, so it isn't terribly cool or refreshing. It's like diving into a deep bath tub sauna. The day of her party, the temperature soared to 119 degrees. But we sweated it out. I can't believe we were out there for hours. The following day, it was 122 degrees. I do believe we could have cooked an egg on the sidewalk had we tried.

So that my friends, it why I love Colorado. My favorite season doesn't encompass 7 months. I appreciate the heat of summer after the snow in winter. Life without change is boring.
(This was written in July, but was never posted. With the stretch of cold weather, I enjoy thoughts of summer.)

What Not To Do

What not to do when it is 3 degrees outside.

1) Forget to check what the temperature before choosing a short-sleeve shirt to wear.

2) Be late for an appointment and leave you hair a little damp and rush outside.

3) Brush snow off the car with a bare hand, then use your wet hand to fasten the metal seat belt. (It was reminiscent of trying to get ice out of the old fashion metal ice cube trays and getting my fingers stuck to the metal.)

4) Try to use the power windows.

5) Rush from the car to your appointment, with plenty of snow underfoot. Sure, the snow down your backside won't melt while you are outside. But just wait until you warm up inside.

A Walk

I took a stroll down memory lane
I went as far as I could go
But every memory I did pass
told my hurried feet to slow.

Tears of joy filled my eyes
Each tiny baby I beheld.
I watched as every one of them
grew taller, wise, on wings they sailed.

But then I found a curious thing
I stopped to look more closely.
There before me laid a dream
A faded, unborn fantasy.

I stood there for a moment
Not knowing what to do.
Should I take this lifeless thing
That once held much allure?

And while I mused I didn't see
My heart embraced entirely
The hope of one forgotten dream
It brought to life indulgently.

My hands began to close the doors
On happy memories.
With quicker steps my legs did run
To reach this neweset destiny.

Happy Birthday Laurie!

(Someone told me he was concerned that the steroids might be affecting me adversely. He asked that I NOT blog about body parts again, lol. So I promised I wouldn't.)

Today is my sister, Laurie's birthday. She mentioned last week that she would be turning 45. There is no way! I'm 45. Remember my 44th? I do, and I so now I am 45. When my sister and I were little, we were about the same size. People were always asking my mom if we were twins. I wanted to tell them, "we most certainly are not! I am almost 2 years older." But I never did. I was too shy. But maybe I was mistaken about the 2 years . Afterall, we are both 45, so we must have been twins.

A sister is a wonderful thing. A sister is better than a friend. A sister will tell you the way it is, even when you don't want to hear it. Back when I thought my hair was growing out with beautiful, natural blond highlights, it was my sister who screeched, "aaaah...your hair is completely gray!" I didn't believe her. But when I looked at pictures, sure enough. She was right. That was when I started coloring my hair.

Another time Laurie was in Denver. We were at my home, chattering away in the bathroom. We were giggling & gossiping while I applied makeup & fixed my hair. It felt like we were teenagers again, sharing the bathroom mirror, primping before we headed out for the night. Laurie loves to talk and between breaths, in a loud sucking in noise she gasped, "Joanne, you have a mustache!" As sisters sometimes do, I wanted to say, "yeah, but have you seen how big your hair is? Big hair isn't in anymore." But I didn't. That would have been childish. And I wasn't about to mention anything about big backsides. Afterall, we weren't 15. We were both like 35.

(Oops! Sorry Christopher. I know I promised I wouldn't talk body parts. Maybe I do have a problem.)

My sister is my friend & biggest cheerleader. She listens when I talk. She makes me laugh. I wish we could share a bathroom and laugh together more often. Happy Birthday Laurie! And I really don't believe you are 45, as that means I'm only 46 for a little bit longer. And I still don't believe I could be 46. Wish I was there to celebrate. I'd leave you a pillow present. I'm going to have to tell your boys all about pillow presents.

Anyone See A Theme Here?

After posting this pic of my hair it got me to thinking.

I'm in love with Rich Reds.

Slow Part 3

Through the years, I occasionally try to pull a fast one over on my body. Nothing slips past these watchful organs. It objects to things that I think it should like. In the Spring, it sniffles over the beautiful blossoms. It itches and becomes teary or sneezy over the pollen. It doesn't like to be overloaded by anything seemingly foreign. It objects to foods, even ones that I find to be delicious. And what's with disliking fresh fish & seafood?

The displeasure of the latter took awhile to figure out. (Because maybe I'm slow?) I experienced violent backlash it seemed, around special events: my anniversary, my birthday. On these occasions, Michael and I enjoy going out to eat. Because I have kids who won't eat fish, I refrain from cooking meat with fins. So it is a treat to go out for fresh fish, shrimp, lobster, crab smothered in garlic butter...yum! But each and every time I endulge, I am most miserable. While most people's digestive systems have no problem with this, I am sensitive to the bacteria that is killed by freezing fish, but not merely cooking. So while others digest this foreign stuff, I cannot. (Hooray for me! My body works the way it was designed. It likes purity.)

Do you remember this post, where I shared my sad dental tale? Not only did I hate my new crown, but I think my body hated it too. It never could get used to this porcelain imitation. To protest, it became inflamed, trying to root the darn thing right out of place. The dentist's solution? Root Canal, as if it was the root that had brought about this misery.

It all happened so fast. I went in for a consultation and walked out without my roots. What I didn't realize ahead of time was they don't just drill the tooth out. The cavern is then filled with plastic. Well, it's actually a cousin to latex, gutta percha.

Within a couple of days, I experienced difficulty breathing & chest tightness. My asthma inhaler didn't seem to help. I took Benadryl and phoned the endodontist to inquire if I might be having a reaction to the antibiotic he'd prescribed.

Since that fateful November day, I've had breathing problems. The doctors can't figure out why. I use my albuterol inhaler several times a day, inhale a steroid, but it isn't improving. Two weeks ago, rather than undergo another root canal, I opted to have another tooth drilled out and a fancy, new filling inserted. The next day I broke out in hives, and the next day, and the next for 5 days. The dr. prescribed prednisone.

So where am I going with this long, drawn-out 3 day post? It finally occurred to me that quite possibly I am allergic to the gutta percha in my root canal. My immune system is working overtime trying to rid my body of this foreign substance, which is why I can't breathe. I don't know what the answer is, but I can quit googling "shortness of breath, chest tightness, swollen lymphy nodes, fever..." in an attempt to figure out what mysterious disease I have.

Possibly, I am completely wrong. But with so many people today with autoimmune diseases and the rate of kids with autism skyrocketing, there has to be a reason. I can't help but wonder if it isn't chemicals and other declared safe products on the market that we ingest and put in our bodies that never should be. Immune systems become overloaded by so many foreign invaders that they can no longer distinguish the good guys from the bad.

In my case, it could also be some sort of bacteria. Afterall, I know I react to bacteria in fish.
My dentist said if the tooth (or the filling) is causing my breathing problems, it is an easy solution. Pull the tooth. And then what? Oh, then I can get a tooth replacement and an artificial dental implant. Like my body is going to be happy with that???

So if anyone out there has any suggestions or opinions, I'm happy to hear them.

Fiery Red

I needed a change.

Fiery red sounded hot, so I revved it up. It won't last long, as my blondeness fights with a vengeance to take back it's rightful possession. But for a few days I'll live boldly.

It's better than dull gray.

Slow Part 2

After my tonsillectomy, life became fuzzy. Ok, maybe it was complicated by the fact that I was a teenager. My body was wildly producing things like hormones. I doubt I was feeding it properly or taking care of it properly. It functioned as well as it could under the circumstances. For some reason, that whole monthly cycle thing spit and sputtered. I didn't deal well with the fluxuations.

Along came another medical professional who decided I had one more undesireable body part. An ovary had to come out. Once inside, he declared I was a mess, cut out pie-shaped pieces from each ovary, cleared out my clogged tubes, and delivered his grim message that I would probably never have children because my body didn't like me. What he really meant was my body didn't like being altered. He just didn't know it at the time. Oh, and while he was inside, he spied this little organ named appendix. Foolishly believing it to be a useless appendage that would later cause me problems, he cut that right out too.

I'm sure he thought my body would be elated and celebrate with top notch health. Instead, I noticed I was sick much more often. My body did not fight off bugs very well. Each organ in my body has a function. Sure we can live without many, but optimally, I believe I personally function best with them. I need my tonsils & appendix to do their job in fighting infection and keeping my body clean. The same way my lungs, kidneys, & liver do their job. I have this amazing cleaning system that functions in conjunction with everthing else. Without all of the components, this fine machine deteriorates.

Miraculously, I went on to get pregnant after my ovarian surgery. I was pleased with how well my body functioned with its newfound fertility, so went on to have 5 children. In the middle of my wonderful fertility, my other half began questioning whether my body really new what it was doing by producing all of these children. I tried to assure him, that I was thrilled with whatever and however it chose to reproduce. He didn't agree.

So in our attempts to come to a compromise, I allowed myself to let a doctor tweak with my almost-still perfect body. I quickly discovered hormones not produced naturally by my body caused terrible confusion. My parts just don't know how to handle chemically produced substances. I wised up quit altering my body with hormone pills.

My next attempt was an IUD. It was this little plastic T-shaped device. It's mission, once inserted into my uterus, is to keep out any occupants. This was a newer invention without copper or chemicals. So how exactly was it supposed to work? My guess is being plastic, my body would fight to reject it, making my womb a hostile environment for life. Gosh, this sounds like a good idea? It goes against the natural function of this particular organ.

Foolishly, I agreed to let MR. Dr. talk me into using one. The army of militants within my body rose up and fought against plastic IUD. I went back to my Dr. to tell him of the dissent. He asked my how I knew my body was rejecting this little, tiny piece of plastic. I handed it to him. He was impressed. He agreed that the only way for my body to expel it was it had to contract and push it out the same way my uterus contracted to push a baby out. Impressive how my body functions, isn't it? It likes things normal, so why do I try to mess with it?

Maybe I'm Slow

I should have figured this out a long time ago. Oh wait, I think I did. It must have slipped my mind. I should be thankful for gentle reminders. But I'm not. So here it is: My body was created perfectly.

What? Is that laughing I hear? Go ahead and chuckle. I'll wait. But it is true.

So what does this perfect status mean for all intents and purposes? In order to maintain this flawlessness, I have to keep everything in working order. I cannot allow substitutions, alterations or changes. To do so creates a substandard machine. Seriously. If I remove parts or add new ones, my physical body rises up in rebellion. It fights to keep out foreigners. I am filled with tiny insurgents who know how to get the job done.

Dramatic? Yes. But it is the only way I can explain why my physical self does the things it does. Currently, I am living in all out revolt mode. I should have seen this coming. It isn't as if I didn't know better.

Do I sound like I've had a revelation? Because it feels like I have. I suppose I should back up a bit. When God created my very being, he gave my all of the parts necessary to have a smooth running life. I'm talking about my physical being. I am designed to operate efficiently. My intricate parts work together in harmony for the health of all organs-without foreign assistance. All are necessary.

Around the time I was 15, a medical doctor deemed that I should have my tonsils removed. I don't recall that they were a problem. Sure, they would swell from time-to-time. But that was part of their job. My tonsils were hard at work trying to remove foreign substances like viruses from my body. Because they performed so well, some dr. guy decided they were a problem. He wanted them out.

Truthfully, from what I remember, the real reason was because my sister was having hers removed. We sort of had a family history that necessitated tonsil removal. My brother was 3 when he had his yanked, my older sister was around 15. She had a terrible time with it. So when my younger sister presented with whatever symptoms the professionals judged "fix by surgical removal," they also decided to kill two birds with one stone. Let's go ahead and pull out Joanne's tonsils while we are at it. She will likely need it done sooner or later.

My first indication that my body wasn't happy about this intrusion, was immediately after I was given an injection of morphine. In violent protest of the impending surgery, my stomach attempted to rid my body of this nasty chemical. It didn't realize, this was not a normal ingestion. It had entered unnaturally via a vein. In spite of its valiant attempts, it couldn't do what it tried in vain to do. In the end, the medical profession won out. My tonsils were removed and I was sent on my merry way.

My body did not like the loss of one of its members. It was sad and rejected.

(Not being fond of overly long posts, I've decided to extend this epiphany over several days. I do think it will all make sense if you can make it to the end. Thank-you for your patience.)

Change

I wasn't sure I could make the trip yesterday. The steroids have provided relief from the hives and breathing comfortably is nice, but averaging 3-4 hours of sleep each night isn't as grand. As a mom, it just doesn't matter. You do what you have to do regardless of health, lack of sleep, or any of the other ailments that plague mothers. A mom's job is never finished.

Sarabeth and I were out the door by 7 a.m. Driving through thick, heavy fog for over an hour felt a bit eery. It wasn't the pleasant drive I remember from nine years ago, when Christina and I made the trip for her college orientation. In 1999, we passed miles and miles of beautiful, green cornfields. A calming peace of being out in the country settled into my soul. We were leaving the big city and I'd deposit my daughter in a smaller, slower-paced college town where she'd be safe and people were friendly. (A parent needs a bit of deception to deal with the separation anxiety of losing your first child to a big, scary world.)

Sarabeth is our 4th child to leave our lovely home to live in cramped quarters, spending an insane amount of money, in order to gain a proper education. It should be an easy task to accomplish, what with the experience we've had.

(Grr...I'm not sure what happened. When I hit publish, I lost the entire second half of this post. I don't have the time or emotion to try to re-write my thoughts. Maybe I can pick it up tomorrow or in the next couple of days.)

Wordless Wednesday

Not sure which looks worse:

My Insides Are Jumping

I remember as a kid, having "butterflies in my stomach." It usually happened before I had to stand in front of the class to give a presentation. I was very shy. I was also blessed with a great imagination. I could never figure out why I was told I had butterflies. Every butterfly I'd ever seen had delicate wings. There was no way something so fragile could wreak such havoc in my midsection.

My youthful butterflies have been replaced by marbles, my stomach turned into a trampoline-like bouncy substance that propels the marbles around. Pinging around my insides, catapulting my heart into overdrive. I have no speeches to give. Nobody would say I'm shy. So why the indoor gymnastics?

I'd like to blame the steroids. Okay done. But I have a feeling I'd be left with a few stray marbles even with the drugs out of my system.

Tomorrow I'm going with Elisabeth to see a surgeon. She had an utlrasound last Friday. The doctor thinks she has a hernia that will require surgery. She's supposed to start back to school next week. I'm concerned, as she is feeling so poorly. I don't know much about hernias.

Thursday I'm driving North with Sarabeth. It is orientation at the college. She'll move into the dorms over the weekend. We're both having flashbacks of the little girl who had trouble starting new a new school year.

I'd like to trade my marbles for butterflies.

Monday

I read this post and I've been smiling ever since. If you have a chance, check it out. And leave a comment to encourage more frequent posting, will ya? I'd greatly appreciate it!

In other news....it's snowing with lots of wind. Not much fun going outside.

Anyone know what would cause difficulty breathing, low-grade fever, and now hives? The hives are new and are driving me crazy. The other symptoms have been hanging on for 2 months.

And just for fun, Sarabeth and I have been playing with my new camera. I am not camera savvy and thought one could only do these adjustments with photoshop. I didn't realize with a few clicks I could take such fun photos.

Looking Back At 2008

The Singing Owl had this Meme on her blog. What you do is take the first sentence of the first post of each month in 2008 and see if you notice any pattern or common theme.

January: Oh my, where have I been?

February: My dad found a Christmas letter dated December 1970 Title: Nothing Has Changed

March: For those who asked, no I wasn't in the hospital.

April: After I posted Birthing, I received an email from my dad.

May: My friend Heth has a great May Day tradition.

June: Congratulations Sarabeth! You have finished K-12 well

July: Ethan didn't keep the wires attached for the full 48 hours.

August: An invitation arrived in the mail: A Lingerie Shower

September: Sigh. Can I just sigh big sighs over and over???

October: I'm sitting here on pins & needles.

November: The day has finally arrived.

December: Growing up, my mom never insisted that I make my bed.

When I finished, I wasn't sure if I noticed a theme. So I tried it again. This time I used the first sentence of the last of each month.

January: My To-Do List for Today:Take Hilary to School for her trip to Florida
February: A little girl, who loved ribbons and bows and is still as cute as ever, turned 21
March: (Due to my continued battle with this illness, I didn't get photos of everyone.)

April: I phoned the attendance office at the high school and left the following message: "Hi, this is Joanne."

May: So I had this nagging feeling.

June: I woke up to loud banging this morning.

July: This is blurry.

August : What is the saying about fish & houseguests?

September: I must be losing my mind, or something.

October: In case you missed these wedding photos:

November Outside everything is blanketed in snow.

December: On the day we said "I do",we embarked on an amazing journey.

Okay, I'm not sure what to think. So if anyone else wants to try, let me know. I'd like to see what your posts say about you.

Ethan Update

For Christmas, Ethan received a new truck. I think he wanted a train.

Other Ethan news: Can you believe his neurologist wants to try another extended EEG??? I guess she doesn't remember the 48 hour EEG and how that turned out. They don't trust us to monitor him, so will conduct it in the hospital. It should be interesting.

He's happy to be back at school, after his one week break. He has plenty of "T" things to talk about: trains, trucks, tractors, & transformers. Do you think the hospital will let him drive his truck, err train down their corridors?

Quiet

When did my home become so quiet? Don't get me wrong, I like quiet just as much as any librarian or museum curator does. But I don't want to live in one of those places. Home should be a place of learning & wonderment such as happens through reading and observing. But it needs to be full of life. More like a zoo or aquarium where living happens, strange creatures doing curious things.

No, I don't want to live in a zoo, but it would be ok with me if we had a little more life here.

A New Year

I had a picture post running through my head all weekend. With the photos I took on Friday, I thought it would be fun to play "guess what this is." But when I went to upload them, poof! They were gone. Someone tried out different settings on my camera, taking random pictures. When he was finished, he thoughtfully deleted them along with the ones I'd taken.

So I'll go in another direction.

Last week, as I pushed my grocery cart towards the car, I noticed my legs felt a bit weak. This is what happens when you finally drag your tired body to the gym when you haven't worked out in over a month. Parked next to me was an elderly gentleman. He was standing at the back of his car, knocking on the window. I surmised he was trying to get his wife to open the trunk so he could load his groceries.

As I packed my grocery sacks into my trunk, I noticed this man fumbling with his in the back seat. He struggled with the heavy bags & stopped to catch his breath with each one. Closing the trunk, I paused before returning the cart. I wanted to help, but I'm often afraid of offending an older man. Men from his generation are men. They've spent a lifetime opening car doors, lifting heavy objects, & openening tightly sealed jars for their female counterparts. Would he feel humilation at a lady offering to help him?

I pushed my empty cart. When I felt the twinge of sore muscles, I silently thanked God for my health and strength. When I returned, the gentleman was still wrestling. "Sir, may I help you load these things?" I was grateful, when he stepped aside, leaning against his car to catch his breath. From the front seat, his wife turned to thank me. Her voice trembled as she told me how she was too weak to help and that her husband had difficulty lifting heavy things.

I wondered why nobody had helped this man with his groceries. The sackers were always offering to carry my groceries to the car. Had no one offered? Or had the man clung to his last bit of dignity, declined the offer, and tried to manage on his own? I wanted to follow this couple to their home. Afterall, how in the world were they going to unload these bags and put the food away? Was there no one to help?

People from this generation have lived very different lives. Possibly they could afford to pay to have their groceries delivered. But that would seem way too extravagant. Maybe they truly can't afford to pay for help. But asking for assistance from a volunteer is too much like an admission that their strength & independence is diminished.

The rest of the day I spent wondering how this couple managed upon arriving home. But even more so, what will I do if I am elderly and in need of assistance. Will I lay aside my pride to ask for help? Will the finances to be there if needed? Or will I just do it regardless of my ability? If my extended family members are any indication of my own ideas and attitudes it will be the latter. More on that later.