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.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Anyone See A Theme Here?
After posting this pic of my hair it got me to thinking.
I'm in love with Rich Reds.
I'm in love with Rich Reds.
Friday, January 23, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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?
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?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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.)
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.)
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
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.
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, January 12, 2009
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.
Friday, January 09, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
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?
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
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.
Monday, January 05, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Twenty-Five
On the day we said "I do",
We embarked on an amazing journey.
We ventured into unknown territory,
Courageously faced mountains,
But stopped to enjoy the mountaintops.
Occasionally we walked through low valleys.
Soared high, Keeping the Blue Side Up,
But no matter the course, you worked hard to keep us going.
Along the way, we laughed,
A lot,
Managed Mishaps,
Hung on tightly, when necessary.
Changed our looks,
At least a few times.
Together we work,
And often play
Even get silly
But all-in-all
It's been a thrilling adventure
Filled with love
Joy,
Great times
While watching our family grow.
I love you more today
Than when this journey began.
Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary Michael!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Top Ten
I spoke with a friend today who mentioned she was madly trying to finish making Christmas presents. With finances so tight, she made a lot of her gifts. I couldn't help but notice the joy in her voice. I hope the recipients of her gifts will appreciate the love and effort she's invested in them.
Handmade gifts often require a chunk of time, but not always. I smile when I think of some of the treasures I've received or ones I'd like to have. Making your own gifts won't always be free, but can be less expensive and more meaningful than searching the stores or internet for the perfect gift. It's too late for these to be of any value this year, but maybe if I plan ahead for next year...one of these days it's going to happen.
1. Homebaked goodies. I'm not sure why these get a bad rap. I'm not much of a baker (I blame the altitude.) A plate of cookies is delightful. A loaf of bread is nice too.
2. Recipes, especially those secret ones that were handed down from your grandmother.
3. What would be nicer than a homecooked or ready-to-cook freezer meal? It's the perfect future gift. On one-of-those-days when I'm busy, tired, or stressed out, I can pull that present right out of the freezer. I'll open and enjoy when I need it most. Plus, my family reaps the benefits.
4. A music CD with meaningful, fun, or interesting music/songs. Personally, I love music. An incredibly romantic gift could be one song, packed full of sentiment, burned onto a CD.
5. For my younger nieces and nephews, I've always thought a fun gift would be that of a card or note once a month for a year. I'd try to include stickers, pictures, or a dollar occasionally and words of encouragement. What child doesn't enjoy receiving mail? Email is overrated in the eyes of a child.
6. A CD/DVD with a photo slideshow, especially fun put to music. Include fun and goofy photos. Perfectly posed photos become boring. Laughter & tears blended together create wonderful memories of joy.
7. The gift of time. Give a card with a date on it. It can be simple or extravagant.
Join me: January 31st, at 4:00p.m
Location: Starbucks
Occasion: A time to kick back, conversate, enjoy a warm drink & good company
To make it even more interesting, give the same gift to 2 or 3 friends and plan to meet at a time when the holidays are over. Catch up and have a great time.
8. A memory, love note, prayer, or blessing written out.
9. Kitchen/Dining things, tablecloths made to fit my extra-large table, napkins, placemats, table runners. (This one is extra exciting for me.) I asked my mom for a tablecloth this year. Have you ever tried to find a tablecloth to fit a table that is 120 inches long and 54 inches wide? Or buy 12-14 matching placemats at 6 dollars a piece? Add cloth napkins in and it isn't going to happen here. I know these aren't cheap to make either, but what a wonderful gift.
10. Service Gifts-A promise to wash a car, make a meal, sweep a floor, do a load of laundry. But don't give an empty promise, follow through. If necessary, give a specific date that you are available to do this.
So there it is. My top ten list of gifts that don't require you to get out your credit card, wander the malls aimlessly, or search the internet for hours on end trying to find the perfect gift.
I'd love to hear your top ten.
(Edited to add, scrapbooks, notecards, artwork, photocards, etc. to number 6. And to number 9, potholders, aprons, kitchen towels and the like.) Just in case. I'll try not to add to this list again today, but please do add your ideas.
Handmade gifts often require a chunk of time, but not always. I smile when I think of some of the treasures I've received or ones I'd like to have. Making your own gifts won't always be free, but can be less expensive and more meaningful than searching the stores or internet for the perfect gift. It's too late for these to be of any value this year, but maybe if I plan ahead for next year...one of these days it's going to happen.
1. Homebaked goodies. I'm not sure why these get a bad rap. I'm not much of a baker (I blame the altitude.) A plate of cookies is delightful. A loaf of bread is nice too.
2. Recipes, especially those secret ones that were handed down from your grandmother.
3. What would be nicer than a homecooked or ready-to-cook freezer meal? It's the perfect future gift. On one-of-those-days when I'm busy, tired, or stressed out, I can pull that present right out of the freezer. I'll open and enjoy when I need it most. Plus, my family reaps the benefits.
4. A music CD with meaningful, fun, or interesting music/songs. Personally, I love music. An incredibly romantic gift could be one song, packed full of sentiment, burned onto a CD.
5. For my younger nieces and nephews, I've always thought a fun gift would be that of a card or note once a month for a year. I'd try to include stickers, pictures, or a dollar occasionally and words of encouragement. What child doesn't enjoy receiving mail? Email is overrated in the eyes of a child.
6. A CD/DVD with a photo slideshow, especially fun put to music. Include fun and goofy photos. Perfectly posed photos become boring. Laughter & tears blended together create wonderful memories of joy.
7. The gift of time. Give a card with a date on it. It can be simple or extravagant.
Join me: January 31st, at 4:00p.m
Location: Starbucks
Occasion: A time to kick back, conversate, enjoy a warm drink & good company
To make it even more interesting, give the same gift to 2 or 3 friends and plan to meet at a time when the holidays are over. Catch up and have a great time.
8. A memory, love note, prayer, or blessing written out.
9. Kitchen/Dining things, tablecloths made to fit my extra-large table, napkins, placemats, table runners. (This one is extra exciting for me.) I asked my mom for a tablecloth this year. Have you ever tried to find a tablecloth to fit a table that is 120 inches long and 54 inches wide? Or buy 12-14 matching placemats at 6 dollars a piece? Add cloth napkins in and it isn't going to happen here. I know these aren't cheap to make either, but what a wonderful gift.
10. Service Gifts-A promise to wash a car, make a meal, sweep a floor, do a load of laundry. But don't give an empty promise, follow through. If necessary, give a specific date that you are available to do this.
So there it is. My top ten list of gifts that don't require you to get out your credit card, wander the malls aimlessly, or search the internet for hours on end trying to find the perfect gift.
I'd love to hear your top ten.
(Edited to add, scrapbooks, notecards, artwork, photocards, etc. to number 6. And to number 9, potholders, aprons, kitchen towels and the like.) Just in case. I'll try not to add to this list again today, but please do add your ideas.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Let The Little Children
Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.
But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?
Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.
I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.
It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.
"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05
But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?
Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.
I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.
It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.
"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05
(This is another repost. Three years later, this boy is just as sweet as ever.)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Just Five More Days
It's been awful quiet in blogland. I'm thinking everyone is busy with holiday preparations. Thanks everyone for your comments. Sarabeth arrived home safely-so I can now concentrate on my Christmas shopping and festivities.
What??? I only have 5 more days? How did that happen? Yikes! Ok, I need to do what the rest of you are doing...staying off the computer and enjoying the season. I had to laugh. My sister freaked out a few days ago because she didn't have her Christmas cards out yet. I told her I still have Christmas cards from the last 4 years that haven't gone out yet. Oh to be organized, what must that be like? Tell me your secrets.
What??? I only have 5 more days? How did that happen? Yikes! Ok, I need to do what the rest of you are doing...staying off the computer and enjoying the season. I had to laugh. My sister freaked out a few days ago because she didn't have her Christmas cards out yet. I told her I still have Christmas cards from the last 4 years that haven't gone out yet. Oh to be organized, what must that be like? Tell me your secrets.
And just for fun, here is a recent photo of my oldest, Christina andDanny:
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