An Idyllic Spot

As a response to a request from Sue, here are a few pictures of our pond. You may have to look close to see the water, but it's there. Alissa probably has some much better pictures of it than I do, as she is the much better photographer. However, it's not about the pictures, but about the pond...

The pond is on the right rear quadrant of our 10-acre hobby "farm." Actually, it used to be a working hobby farm, but now it is mostly just a pretty pastoral setting. Our house is located at the left front quadrant of the property, so the pond is about as far from the house as you can be and still be on our property. It is far removed in time, too, I guess. Back at the pond, there are no sounds of television or even much of cars or machinery, despite the fact that it is not far from a small road that runs behind it. It is very quiet and peaceful, and the only sounds you usually hear are birds or frogs. It sits in a wooded copse, and there is a large hill that blocks the view of the house.

Once upon a time, in our first years at the farm, the pond was used by cows and horses for watering. It was a vital source for livestock water, especially in winter when the kids and I would bundle up and drag back there to break the ice with a sledgehammer so the animals could drink. However, the pond, which was never very deep to begin with, dried up in the summer of 1984, when we had a drought around here. The bottom cracked open, and for several years, water would seep out the bottom, and since it is not spring-fed, the pond almost became extinct. That's about the time the pine tree died and fell across and above the surface. We left it there for frogs and turtles to use. Around about 1990, the floor had resealed itself, and now the pond survives as a small reflecting surface and home to frogs, turtles, bugs, and an occasional snake.

It's also a retreat of sorts for me, as it used to be for Alissa and her friend Jennifer when they were kids. Now I like to take my book, my lawn chair, and a Diet Dr. Pepper back there on pleasant afternoons and escape from the noise of life. I take the walkie-talkie with me in case Terry needs to get in touch with me, but mainly I just either read, doze, or just listen to the sounds of nature. It's idyllic, indeed.

When we finally pack up our stuff and leave this house to Doug and Kellie, I will miss having the pond to escape to. But I know that Kellie will enjoy it just like I do, and future grandchildren will explore back there just like our kids did. Meanwhile, life is good...

A Beautiful Spring Day

Today was just about a perfect day. It was warm, but not hot. It was sunny and absolutely clear--no haze in the air, no clouds in the sky--with a gentle breeze. This is the kind of day that is ideal for a Sunday drive in the country. As I fed and watered my flowers and did some weeding, honorable tasks for sure, I found myself daydreaming about being somewhere else besides home. Of course, last week at this time, I was very glad to be home. It beat the hospital! Now I was dreaming about being somewhere else. Things can sure change in a week.

Generally, things have gone well the past week, and life is slowly returning to normal around here. However, due to the constraints of home health care, Terry is homebound for the time being. I know I could have taken a drive without him, but I didn't want to leave him here all by himself. Besides, I like to ride on our Sunday drives and absorb all the sights. When I'm driving, I have to concentrate on the road. Terry has always been the driver and wouldn't have it any other way. Recently that's changed, however. It seems that since November I have been the driver in the family. He has just not felt like getting behind the wheel. He won't even attempt to get into his beloved truck, which he bought new last May and hasn't been in since November 1, when he drove to the hospital to have his hip replaced. I don't mind being the driver and the errand runner for the most part, but Sunday drives and vacations are the exception.

I miss the short vacation trips we like to take. I really miss the leisurely trips to see Alissa and Andy and the boys. I even miss just rides into Louisville and around town. I know that they will be back eventually, and I count on that. It's just that days like this make me long for them sooner rather than later. I guess I could wish for rain and nasty weather, but I don't want to do that. Right now I will content myself with taking walks and going back to the pond or sitting on the porch with a good book. I'll take advantage of this lull in the activity of our life. It will be busy again soon enough. And I'll remember that life is good....

Happy Mother's Day..

..to the young mothers and those who want to be this day. I know that I am a mother and that once a mother, always a mother. However, I really don't think of Mother's Day for mothers like me. I have done the majority of my job as a mom and have passed the more active torch to the younger generation. I can now sleep in on most mornings and can eat on a schedule that suits me. I read lots of books and pursue hobbies at my leisure. My house, although it gets dusty, doesn't really get messy most of the time (except maybe the kitchen and my desk!). I am not constantly running errands and ferrying kids around. I no longer have to dread report card day during the school year. I don't even have to keep track of the school year. There ARE benefits to being old and retired..

However, I remember the days when it seemed I would never get enough sleep, and I would just keep repeating, "Calgon, take me away!" The exploits of the grandchildren which so amuse me nowadays used to be frustrating and infuriating when the young kids were my own. I remember going into stores and having the kids hide in the clothing racks, and then when I would find them, they would flinch away from me as if I were going to beat them silly, which was not something I did. I remember trying to get them to take a nap or go to bed and have them pop out continually for one or another reason. I remember wet beds and sleepwalking and sick children whom I couldn't make comfortable. And much of this was during the time I was a stay-at-home mom. I don't know how well I would have been able to handle a job, too!

To be fair, I also remember bouquets of flowers picked from the fields, homemade cards, lots of fun swimming in the pool, and seeing school programs. I remember impish grins and silly jokes. I remember family vacations, birthdays, and holidays that were joyful. I remember many instances where the kids made me proud and happy.

Life as a mother is a mixed bag, but it's always a blessing. I am glad that our children have grown and have taken their places as responsible members of society. I am proud of all three of them and the life mates they have chosen. I am thrilled to be a grandma, a little more indulgent than I was as a mother.

Today's young mothers have more challenges than I had to face when my kids were small. We didn't worry so much about poison in Halloween candy or internet predators or stranger dangers. Our children didn't seem to be tempted by drugs, which were around, but not so prevalent as today. The most offensive music then couldn't hold a candle to what is being played today. Television shows for families abounded, and children were able to remain children longer than they are today. It's so hard to keep kids innocent today, and I think that's important when raising them. They have to have time to develop naturally on their own and not be forced into maturity before they are ready. It's a tough job being a mother and nurturer today, and my hat's off to all of the young mothers I know for taking on the job and doing it so well. Happy Mother's Day to Alissa, Shira, and Kellie (aunt extraordinaire, to this point...)!

Random Reflections on the Hospital

We have returned home tonight from 25 days in the hospital. During that time, Terry was in 5 different rooms on 3 different floors and had a ton of tests and x-rays, and he had one surgery. He was visited daily by no less than 5 doctors and as many as 8. Since most of the doctors were from practices with multiple members, he didn't see the same specialist each day. Actually he saw over 20 doctors and added at least 5 new medications to his daily allotment. We have returned home exhausted from the experience. We think Terry is healthier, but he still has issues that aren't resolved and may never be. Seems the origin of his problems is still vague, and he isn't willing to do everything the doctors suggest might help. The big sticking point is the BiPap machine. He is claustrophobic and insists he couldn't get used to it. I tend to agree, and I don't see forcing it. He has managed this long, and he may not live as long as he would if he used the machine, but who's to say? Being fat is also a danger to your health, I'm told, and I'm not dieting! Anyway, I doubt the BiPap machine is going to solve the fluid in the lungs problem or the colitis.

The hospital where we were is a very nice one and well-kept. All the personnel were friendly and eager to make sure we were satisfied. They provided me a bed so I could stay when Terry was in a private room. It was a very uncomfortable roll-away bed, but it was better than sleeping in a chair. The dietary staff bent over backward to try to find something my unhungry and newly picky husband would eat. Since he was sick from the staph infection last winter, food doesn't taste like it used to, and he doesn't like much anymore. They brought him soup, oatmeal, and bananas every day so that he would at least eat something.

The nurses were all very efficient, and most were very friendly. Some were more solicitous than others, but they were all spread pretty thin, as were the aides. Some of them were great, others not so much. However, because they were so busy, sometimes Terry had to wait way too long when he needed help. That's one reason that I stayed when I could.

They do things at weird hours in hospitals. Blood is drawn between 3 and 4 in the morning. Blood pressure and blood sugar are checked at 5 A.M. for the first time of the day. A CT scan was done at 8 in the evening.

Cafeteria food is pretty good, but it is expensive when you must eat it 2-3 meals a day. After the first week, you've seen their whole rotation, and it gets pretty old. It's hard to force yourself to eat healthy meals at all times, especially when they have these neat pudding parfaits on display every day. The hospital where we were didn't have a lot of places nearby to eat that you could walk to easily, so unless I took the kids out somewhere, I usually ate there. I was able to take the food upstairs, though, and eat with Terry, which was nice. I could even do this when he was in the Open Heart Unit. (No, there wasn't a problem with his heart, but his surgeon is a heart, thoracic, and vascular surgeon, and he likes his patients to recover in the OHU.)

I was very appreciative of the fact that I was welcomed and catered to and that nobody seemed to think that I was in the way. It was okay if I helped out, but it wasn't expected of me. All of our questions were patiently answered by anyone.

Doctors don't have answers for everything, but they try. In the past, we have had some problems with the attitudes of some doctors, but this time they tried their best to explain when they could and admitted it when they couldn't. I think they did prescribe more medications than Terry needs, but we can work that out later. They all seem to want us to make a follow-up visit, but we'll probably only see a few of them.

Things seem to accumulate when you spend a lot of time at the hospital. We went in with just a little bit, and when we got home tonight, it took me three trips to haul in all the stuff! The nurse told us to take all the medical supplies that were left in the room, even the scissors and tweezers. She even gave me two rolls of tape that were in her uniform pocket!

The hospital setting is very confining, and I was itching to get outside and experience the lovely spring air, but there was no place to sit outside that was easily accessible, except for the smoking hut. That will be discontinued next month, but you'd be surprised how many sick patients make their way out to that smoking hut to get their many fixes each day.

I guess that's enough reflections..it's all in the past, at least for now. And life is good....

Here We Go Again...

...back to the hospital. This time, Terry is anemic and short of breath. He has been scanned and Dopplered and x-rayed all up and down his torso. So far it seems he is losing blood somewhere in the gastrointestinal tract, but they haven't been able to pin it down yet. Seems a colonoscopy is needed, but his blood count is too low for that at this point, so they must build up his blood.

Meanwhile, it seems one lung has some "effusion," which they haven't gotten a clear picture of yet, to see whether it's fluid inside or outside the lung, or if the lung is collapsed or what. Late this evening he had a CT scan so they can see a better picture.


He is resting comfortably for the moment, but he looks very pitiful when I leave at night and greets me eagerly when I return in the morning. I just sit by him all day, and we don't even talk a lot, but it seems to make him feel better to have me around. I have learned to keep a tablet handy to write down all the names of the different doctors, tests and treatments, and diagnoses. Of course I want to be there with him all day, but I must admit I am ready to come home by 8 o'clock in the evening so I can unwind and clean up and then sleep in my own bed. I try to get up early enough in the morning to go to Curves before the hospital, too, so I don't get out of the habit. I must be crazy exercising at 7 A.M! I would really rather sleep, but I'm trying to be good.

I am optimistic that within a few days one or two of the 10 doctors we've seen will be able to come up with a diagnosis for the lung problem and the anemia. Then we can proceed to fix everything and hope that Terry can finally put this miserable 6 months behind him. He has had a very rough road to travel, and I'. afraid I haven't always felt as sympathetic as I could have when he complained. But he has kind of been like the boy who cried wolf, and with all his complaints, I wasn't sure what were legitimate ones. Of course, due to the anemia, they were probably all legitimate! Glad I bit my tongue and didn't harass him when I wanted to! :) Life is good (I think...).

Lazy

Lazy. That's just how I feel today. After about 10 days of having somewhere to go and something to do, I have finally arranged a day where I can stay home. Usually I like going places and doing things, but once in a while a day at home is nice.

The problem with that is that, when I'm home all day, I feel as if I should be doing something productive, even if it only takes an hour or so. About the only day I don't feel that way is Sunday. When I retired, I was afraid I would fall into a pattern of doing nothing productive all the time, so I told myself that I would spend at least an hour a day when I was at home doing something in the way of cleaning or laundry or something like that. Of course, I actually should spend a lot more time than that, but I am not a big fan of cleaning, so I figure if I can devote at least an hour a day to it, I'm doing well.

Well, I got up late this morning because I just kept turning the snooze on and finally just turned it off. I woke up a half hour later. I just didn't seem to have any energy and didn't feel like doing anything except settling in my chair with a good book. However, I had told myself yesterday that I would clean my kitchen surfaces. I wrestled with this in my head, and I finally decided I must get up and do what I'd said I would. I spent an hour in the kitchen polishing and scrubbing the appliances and countertops. Aren't I virtuous?

So now I feel I can relax and read the rest of the afternoon. I haven't had enough time to read this week, and I am really looking forward to maybe finishing the book, "Nineteen Minutes," by Jodi Picoult. Of course, this will depend on my better half sleeping the afternoon away, or he will talk and talk and I won't finish it after all. We'll see.

Meanwhile, here is a picture of my latest Monday effort. It's taken from one of Alissa's photos.

edited to add: I finished the book by 5 o'clock. Hooray! I'm ready to rejoin the race again...

P.S.

The furnace is fixed! The house is warm. I worried for nothing...

Wouldn't You Know It!

After two weeks of absolutely gorgeous weather--unseasonably warm and sunny--we are now suffering through an unseasonable cold snap, and right at Easter, too, when you want pretty weather to show off your finery. We are due to have high temperatures in the 30's and lows in the low 20's , which is 20-30 degrees lower than average for this time of year. I guess you could say we were due for it, but that doesn't make it any more pleasant to bear. After hauling out the lightweight clothes, we now find ourselves in sweaters and winter jackets. That's a bummer, but it's not the worst of it. This is where Murphy's Law comes in...

When it got cold enough for the furnace to kick on Wednesday morning, it didn't. I wasn't home, and Terry called me at Dad's to let me know it wasn't working. I don't know how I was supposed to do anything about it at that point, so he was going to check it out and call for a repair if needed. When I left Dad's an hour or so later, I called him back to find it was running, but making an increasingly loud noise. We had heard this noise before the warm weather came, but we were hoping to make it through the season before doing anything about it. Unfortunately, the furnace only worked on Wednesday. On Thursday morning, at about 6:00, it came on and immediately stopped. Apparently the blower quit functioning. Terry called the repairman, and he came out yesterday afternoon. Yes, the fan was bad, so he relayed the information to his office lady, who called to see about replacing it. She was very prompt to call us back to tell us that we must replace not just the fan, but the whole blower assembly, at a cost of $583 plus labor. What can you do but agree? However, she had to order the part, and she wasn't sure it would be in before today, Friday. If it comes in, the repairman will come back today and install it. Otherwise, you guessed it. We will be without a furnace on the coldest weekend of the spring.

It's fine and warm in our kitchen and family room. We have a gas blower and a space heater that keep the area comfortable. It's not even too bad yet in the nether regions of the house. We slept quite comfortably last night under a few blankets and a bedspread. However, the kids are scheduled to come and stay. I'm afraid it won't be warm enough for them. If they think it's too cold, we can let them stay with Doug and Kellie or maybe get them a motel room, but I hope we can get the furnace fixed before they get here and have to make a decision.

I guess Alissa's bad financial luck was contagious. We were just congratulating ourselves that the insurance company was going to pay $772 of an ambulance bill from when Terry was recuperating, so we were saving money. I guess it burned a hole in our pocket (or our furnace fan), so we now have somewhere to spend it. I am grateful that we have it to spend. Life is good...Happy Easter to everyone!

Paying Bills

Paying bills. For most of our marriage, those two words struck dread in my heart. It always seemed that there wasn't enough money to cover our expenses, and I was always juggling things just to pay the minimum on our many charge accounts and loans. We made the decision early on that Terry would work, and I would stay home to be the mother and housekeeper, which is just what I wanted to do. However, I guess we didn't curtail our spending to match the reduction in income. I managed the bills, and when Terry wanted to buy something, I didn't argue about it. Whenever I said we couldn't afford something, he would fret and worry and moan about not making enough money to support his family, and it was not something I enjoyed hearing, so I just sucked it up and did the worrying myself. Of course, I was not blameless in all this. I loved buying stuff for the kids, and the store credit cards would build up. Terry remained blissfully unaware of our finances most of the time, but once in a while, he would figure out that we were spending more than we were making, and he would get the brilliant idea to consolidate all our credit card payments and then not use the cards. Great idea! The problem was that we continued to use the cards, and then we had not only credit card payments, but a consolidation payment, too! I spent many a sleepless night worrying about how we were going to pay all of our bills, but I found that somehow, just when we needed it most, we got some unexpected income and things were fine. Finally, I started working when Doug was 4, and things eased up a little. I was only working part time, so we still had lots of bills. And we were remodeling our very old house almost all the time. We did this on the cheap, and now you can tell it, but it still cost money we really didn't have to spend. Things didn't seem to get a whole lot better until the 90's, when I started teaching full-time again. We finally had breathing room, but even then, we had teenagers and their expenses to cover.

Now the kids are grown and gone, and Terry retired over 8 years ago. I worried then, but we seemed to have all the money we needed to pay the bills. I worried again when I retired almost 2 years ago, but again, it seems that we have plenty of income and lots fewer bills. While it's not exactly a pleasure to sit down and pay bills these days, like I just finished doing, it's certainly not the dread-inducing experience it once was. I am grateful that we have retirement savings and income. We can afford to do most anything we want and also help the kids when they need it, just like my parents helped us several times when we were young. I don't know why we have been so blessed, but I am not going to argue about it! Life is good....

Monday Muse

As you know, I like to paint. However, I only get around to it when the muse strikes, so to speak. And it doesn't seem to strike very often. You have to be in the mood to do a good job when painting a picture, or nothing looks right. At least, that's the way it seems to me. At home, I don't seem to be in the mood very often. Although I have a very nice room in which to do my thing, at the moment it's pretty cluttered, and truth be told, it seems to get that way really fast when I do clean up the scattered papers and stuff lying around. Consequently, there isn't too much room to spread out and get down and dirty, so to speak.

The last several months, I have been attending water color and acrylic painting classes that are given free at the local library. These have been fun and inspirational, but they have been sporadically offered. Fortunately, they are going to be offered monthly, and that is good. But something even better has come along. Terry saw a small article in the local paper a few weeks ago saying that the newly renovated main library in Shepherdsville was going to open its meeting room once a week for anyone to bring their own supplies and create art. This meeting time is Monday afternoon. I have gathered up my stuff and headed to the library the past two Mondays, and here you see the results of my labors. The two-hour time period is just about enough to complete one picture for me. I tend to be a one-sitting painter and not go back to the work once I've left it. The bottom one is a water color that I copied from an instruction book, with my own variations. The top one is an acrylic of the ubiquitous beach scene, this one being at Maui. It is very nice to go and sit with a bunch of like-minded people and create. It stirs the muse, I guess. Of course, most of the other women there are actual professional artists who belong to art guilds and display and sell their work, but there is another rank amateur along with me. We just mainly sit there and do our thing while we listen to the other ladies talk about the shows they've been to and the work they have sold. They all take a lot longer to finish a painting than I do, which makes me wonder if I am not doing something right, but I keep on.

I am hoping that through meeting these folks that I will have some entry into the world of art, in Bullitt County anyway. I would kind of like to hang some of my stuff on display in the local gallery, but I'm not sure about how to go about doing so. I wouldn't know how to price my work for sale or even if anyone would buy it, but it would be neat to see it hanging somewhere besides in the homes of my family members. Not that I'm not glad that they seem to like the stuff well enough to display it, though.:)

Meanwhile, I am glad to have this opportunity available each week that I can carve out the time to go. It feeds the muse...Life is good!

The ABC's of Me

Alissa tagged me to do this last week, and I am finally getting around to it, even though I should be fixing supper. I'll do that soon, I guess...

A - Available/Single? Married, 37 years. B - Best Friend? Terry, Peg, and Rose C - Cake or Pie? Both, but Lemon meringue pie aces everything D - Drink of Choice? Diet Dr. Pepper, of course E - Essential Item You Use Everyday? Soap and deodorant(copied from Natalie, but it makes sense to me!) F - Favorite Color? Changes--presently yellow G - Gummy Bears or Worms? Neither--Peeps H - Hometown? Erie, PA I - Indulgence? Brownies J - January or February? If I must choose, February. It's short and closer to spring. K - Kids & Their Names- Daughter Alissa, son Terry, Jr. (Chip), son Doug L - Life Is Incomplete Without? Food, friends, and family (not necessarily in that order.)(another copy from Natalie :)) M - Marriage Date? February 14, 1970 N - Number Of Siblings? 2--older brother, younger sister O - Oranges or Apples? Apples P - Phobias/Fears : snakes, public speaking Q - Favorite Quote? "Life is good." unknown R - Reason to Smile? close family and friends, especially grandkids, who always make me smile S - Season? Summer, definitely T - Tag Three People: Don't know three people who have not already been tagged. U - Unknown Fact About Me? I think I'm an open book. I was a spelling bee champ, but I don't think that's unknown. V - Vegetables You Don't Like? peas, lima beans, and wax beans W - Worst Habit? Nail biting X - X-rays You've Had? Chest x-rays only Y - Your Favorite Food? Italian spaghetti and meatballs Z - Zodiac Sign? Gemini

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Tomorrow is my mom's 83rd birthday. Unfortunately, this is the 11th birthday that she has not spent with us. She died two days before her 73rd birthday of metastisized breast cancer. It seems like 10 years would be a long time, but it really doesn't feel like it. It is still fresh enough in my memory to bring tears to my eyes, but maybe that's because my mom was such a special person, and I still miss her a lot, as I believe most of her family probably does, too.

Mom was a child of the Great Depression, born to a mother who had immigrated from Germany as a child and a father who was also of German descent. Her family was poor, and both parents worked, so my mom was a main caregiver for her little brother. She had a lot of responsibility as a child, but she handled it well, and she enjoyed life. She was a good student and popular girl in high school, where she met my dad. After graduating, she worked as a bookkeeper for a year until she and my dad got married on June 10, 1943. She quit her job to be a homemaker while my dad worked at GE. However, this was wartime, and before long, my dad was in the Navy, leaving his young, pregnant wife in the care of his parents. By the time she was married a year, Mom was living in a small place with a baby son and in-laws. My grandmother was nice, but she was a very dominant personality and tended to be critical of mom's abilities as a mother. But mom persevered and kept her sense of humor for the next few years until my dad returned from the war in January, 1946. They moved to their own place, and Dad returned to GE.

My brother, Bob, was born in 1944, during World War II, as I said, and I was born in 1948. My sister, Peggy, followed in 1952. Things were going well, and my parents had bought their first house, and then Dad was transferred from Erie, PA, to Louisville, KY, in 1953, and we all moved. It was a big transition for mom, who knew nobody in this area and couldn't drive. You can bet that she learned to drive pretty quick, and that she made friends even faster. She was the kind of person who attracted friends because she was happy and she was a sympathetic listener.

Once settled in KY, Mom was the quintessential 50's wife and mother. She kept a clean house, cooked nutritious and tasty meals, and generally lived to serve her family. She didn't wear pearls and heels around the house like Harriet Nelson or June Cleaver, but she did usually wear a dress of some sort. And every day, without fail, before it was time for my dad to come home from work, she freshened up and put on lipstick and met my dad at the door with a kiss. She saw him off to work in the morning, too, but sans the lipstick.

As we all grew up, she made sure that we had responsibilities around the house and that we took school seriously. Friday was cleaning day, and while we were at school, she would clean the house. If we had stuff lying around, we came home to find everything we had left out piled in the middle of the bed so that she could dust the furniture and the floors. That was pretty clever of her because we had to put it all away before we could get into the bed at night! (It worked for her, but it didn't work for me. My kids just slept on the floor rather than put the stuff away.)

As I grew up and got married, my mom shifted roles subtly from authority figure to confidante and friend. She was fun to shop with and talk to, and this was a side that seemed to be new to me. She was a tremendous help when my kids were born and gave calm advice when I was frazzled, which of course was often. All of her grandchildren thought she was cool, and she willingly and patiently played games with them and entertained them. My parents were wonderful babysitters, although I didn't ask them too frequently so they didn't get tired of it. However, Terry and I were able to take several trips and leave the kids with my parents with complete confidence.

Of course, time passed, and my kids grew up, too, and then it was usually Mom and Peg and I who took the shopping and lunch trips. We always had fun, often at Mom's expense, as she danced down the aisles of stores and sang along with the Muzak. Even once she was sick, she would get in one of those little motorized carts and drive all over the store, often backing into displays along the way.

In July, 1989, Mom discovered that she had breast cancer. She had a single mastectomy, and the lymph nodes were clear, so the doctors declared her cured and sent her on her way. Little did anyone know that the cancer was already making inroads into her spine. It was two years before she began to feel it, and another year after that until she finally went to the doctor to find out what the problem was. By that time, it was firmly entrenched, and she had what the oncologist called "hot spots" in several places of her frame. They got the worst of it under control with radiation and chemotherapy, and Mom did well for several years. However, in 1995, she developed colon cancer, which they got right away, but had scar tissue, which required another surgery. At this point, the surgeries had taken a lot out of her, and by September of 1996, her bones were getting pretty fragile. She fell and broke her hip, and the cancer had a field day, finally claiming her on March 14, 1997. During all these travails, she never gave up hoping and fighting to stay well. She rarely complained and took every setback in stride, always working to maintain her health and her dignity. She wanted very much to live and see her grandchildren grow up. Copnsequently, I believe she went to her grave believing she would get past the latest setback and move on. She did, just not in the way she expected.

Mom was a very special person. She enjoyed life and laughed often. She had great fortitude. She liked music, reading, traveling, and painting. She was very artistic, and she encouraged all of us kids to develop our talents, too. She was my biggest muse and cheerleader in everything I endeavored. She was just a genuinely nice person. That seems like a trite word, but it wasn't in her case. She was a kind and generous and a friend to all. She was my biggest role model. My greatest ambition is to be the kind of person she was. I wish my children's spouses and my grandchildren could have known her. Happy Birthday, Mom.

(Sorry for the way the pictures are posted. I can't seem to get them anywhere but at the top, and they didn't load in the right order. You see pictures of Mom and Dad on her wedding day and my wedding day. The other picture is from about a year before Mom died, and my sister isn't nearly as ruddy as she appears in the picture.)

"I Love Your Laugh."

A simple compliment. But it made my day today. When you have been married as long as Terry and I have, you tend to get into a comfortable routine and sometimes take each other for granted. We tell each other that we look nice when we dress up, or compliment some work or project the other one has done, but we tend to take each other's innate qualities for granted after all these years. This morning we were watching the birds in the feeder outside the window and bantering back and forth, just chatting and laughing. All of a sudden, Terry turned to me and said, "I love your laugh." Coming from a man who often compares me to a cackling hen, this simple compliment was high praise and something I don't think I ever realized he felt. I have basked in the glow of that compliment all day long. Because it has made me feel so good, I resolve to try to remember to mention to Terry the things I appreciate about him more often, too. We can all use a day brightener now and then! Life is good...

Meet Spot

You are looking at the only pet we have at the moment, a tomcat named Spot. You can't see it very well, but he has a white spot in the middle of his back, hence the name. You will notice by the picture that Spot is inside the house. This is not the way it is supposed to be, or the way it usually is. However, Spot sneaks in every chance he gets. It's like a game for him, to see if he can make it in the door. It's really easy when we have company, as we did today, but I make it a challenge because I don't want to keep him in the house or have him get used to the cushy surroundings. I keep a ladybug flyswatter by the door that he doesn't even like to look at, and he stays away.

I guess that sounds mean, but Spot has always been just what the name says, a tomcat. He was born to a mother cat that lingered around here longer than most manage to several years ago. I don't even know how long, but it has to be six or more years ago. He hung around here, but he was pretty standoffish. After a few years, he just disappeared, as cats in the country are wont to do. We have cats that wander away or get hit by cars or attacked by unfriendly critters or just die of natural causes, but few last longer than 2 or 3 years. So when Spot disappeared, we just took it in stride, and another cat came along to fill his space. This was a black and white cat who had a friendly disposition. He was our main male cat for a few years, and then he just disappeared, as Spot had. Meanwhile, all our other cats, male and female, had gone off, too. We were catless for the first time in probably 20 years.

As luck would have it, the very next day, Spot magically reappeared. He must have been living with someone else or something, but here he came, just like he owned the place, and set up housekeeping. We think that maybe he chased the other, gentler cat away. This was about 3 years ago. At first, he was distinctly unfriendly to everyone and kept his distance from all people. I put food out for him, and he deigned to eat it, but he wouldn't respond to any other overtures. Gradually, I won him over, and now he sees himself as MY cat. He will tolerate the touch of others when he is in the mood, but he is, like I said, MY cat. When I am outside, he follows my every step and makes sure he gets petted and fussed over. He would sit in my lap, but his claws are so sharp that I can't let him because he starts kneading me with them! He rides in the golf cart to the mailbox and back every day, in spite of his natural dislike for being in moving objects. He just tucks himself up next to me and hunkers down for the ride.

So, you see, Spot is meant to be an outside cat. I have had inside cats that always, after a few years, started avoiding the litter box and having allergy problems, so it is best he stay outside. Also, those claws would be very destructive to my furniture. Sometimes he comes in and hangs out for a while, but he lives outside, and he knows it. I think he just likes to prove that he can get the best of me and get inside! He's the best kind of pet for me, a person who doesn't seem to have a natural affinity for animals. I like them okay, but usually I can do without them fine, too. Spot and I are alike, I guess. He likes people okay, but he can live without us just fine, too! I hope he stays around a long time this time.

Meet Spot

You are looking at the only pet we have at the moment, a tomcat named Spot. You can't see it very well, but he has a white spot in the middle of his back, hence the name. You will notice by the picture that Spot is inside the house. This is not the way it is supposed to be, or the way it usually is. However, Spot sneaks in every chance he gets. It's like a game for him, to see if he can make it in the door. It's really easy when we have company, as we did today, but I make it a challenge because I don't want to keep him in the house or have him get used to the cushy surroundings. I keep a ladybug flyswatter by the door that he doesn't even like to look at, and he stays away.

I guess that sounds mean, but Spot has always been just what the name says, a tomcat. He was born to a mother cat that lingered around here longer than most manage to several years ago. I don't even know how long, but it has to be six or more years ago. He hung around here, but he was pretty standoffish. After a few years, he just disappeared, as cats in the country are wont to do. We have cats that wander away or get hit by cars or attacked by unfriendly critters or just die of natural causes, but few last longer than 2 or 3 years. So when Spot disappeared, we just took it in stride, and another cat came along to fill his space. This was a black and white cat who had a friendly disposition. He was our main male cat for a few years, and then he just disappeared, as Spot had. Meanwhile, all our other cats, male and female, had gone off, too. We were catless for the first time in probably 20 years.

As luck would have it, the very next day, Spot magically reappeared. He must have been living with someone else or something, but here he came, just like he owned the place, and set up housekeeping. We think that maybe he chased the other, gentler cat away. This was about 3 years ago. At first, he was distinctly unfriendly to everyone and kept his distance from all people. I put food out for him, and he deigned to eat it, but he wouldn't respond to any other overtures. Gradually, I won him over, and now he sees himself as MY cat. He will tolerate the touch of others when he is in the mood, but he is, like I said, MY cat. When I am outside, he follows my every step and makes sure he gets petted and fussed over. He would sit in my lap, but his claws are so sharp that I can't let him because he starts kneading me with them! He rides in the golf cart to the mailbox and back every day, in spite of his natural dislike for being in moving objects. He just tucks himself up next to me and hunkers down for the ride.

So, you see, Spot is meant to be an outside cat. I have had inside cats that always, after a few years, started avoiding the litter box and having allergy problems, so it is best he stay outside. Also, those claws would be very destructive to my furniture. Sometimes he comes in and hangs out for a while, but he lives outside, and he knows it. I think he just likes to prove that he can get the best of me and get inside! He's the best kind of pet for me, a person who doesn't seem to have a natural affinity for animals. I like them okay, but usually I can do without them fine, too. Spot and I are alike, I guess. He likes people okay, but he can live without us just fine, too! I hope he stays around a long time this time.

The Skunk Incident

Since Alissa has aroused your curiosity, I will tell you what the smell of a skunk means to the Rausch family. As you would expect, it's NOT pleasant! We live on a small farm in a very old house. It has taken many years to bring it up to modern standards, and one of the conditions we lived with for many years was an open foundation. Our house was originally built on stacked flat rocks, and it was anywhere from a few inches to a foot off the ground. We worked gradually on getting a footer and foundation installed underneath the house, but for many years, we had some sections that were open to the air, and to the wildlife. We had a possum living under our bathtub for awhile, and I'm sure we had mice under there, too. But the worst thing that ever took up residence under our kitchen was a skunk. It liked it there, and there was no way to lure it out without risking it spraying its distinctive odor. After wracking our brains and suffering the stink for a few days, Terry finally borrowed a "catch-'em-alive" trap from our friendly hardware store owner, and he baited it and waited for the skunk to enter it. First we caught our cat, but finally we caught the skunk. We went outside to find the skunk sleeping peacefully in the cage. Now what to do? If Terry picked up the cage and disturbed the skunk, he risked getting sprayed-and we didn't have enough tomato juice to bathe him in for that! He decided it would be best to shoot the skunk in the head while it slept so that it wouldn't spray. He got his gun and put a shot neatly in the skunk's head, killing it instantly. But do you know what? Skunks spray as they die! And their spray is neon green! You learn something new every day, and this lesson is one we could have all done without! Terry didn't get sprayed, but the ground did. The ground outside the kitchen window was saturated with the spray, and the odor was overpowering. The kids and I had to clear out while poor Terry tried to clean up the mess and dispose of the dead skunk. He ended up wrapping it in several layers of plastic and putting it in the back of his truck to take off to work and dump in the dumpster. It didn't help the smell of the truck, either. The odor lingered for several days, and then Terry found a way to block the foundation to keep any more critters from holing up under the house. I don't think any of us in our family smells a skunk these days that it doesn't remind us of this distinctly unpleasant experience! But now, we have a foundation all around the house, and the skunks keep their distance, thank goodness. Life is good...

It's Peeps Season!

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a sweet tooth. However, it's a pretty discriminating one. I eat dark chocolate all year-for health reasons, ostensibly. It's not my only guilty pleasure, but I indulge in all my other favorites in particular seasons of the year. For example, it seems I like circus peanuts in the summertime, for whatever reason. I eat candy corn and peanut butter kisses in the fall, for obvious reasons. In the spring, it's Peeps season. I LOVE Peeps, and I have since I was a very little girl. About the time of the beginning of Lent, when I see them in the stores, I am ready to indulge my sweet tooth. I allow myself one large package of Peeps per week from now until shortly after Easter, when my supply has always dried up.

I think of all my favorite candies, Peeps are the ultimate ones for me. They are very sweet and gooey, and I can eat and eat them. I have to dole them out to myself, or I would be the size of a boat, not that I'm dainty as I am. They are really best when they get stale and chewy with the sugar turning crusty on the outside. However, it's not often that I can manage to let them sit around in an open package long enough for that to happen.

It used to be that Peeps were only available in the season before Easter, and, in my opinion, that's they way it should have stayed. However, the people at the Just Born factory in Pennsylvania have branched out. Not only do Peeps now come in colors other than the traditional yellow and pink, but they also are available now in many shapes and colors for other seasons as well. I will eat Peeps of a different color, but I just can't see eating them as black bats, orange pumpkins, red or white or blue stars, green Christmas trees, or white snowmen. That's just wrong. I don't know how well these other Peeps sell in the other seasons, but I for one don't buy them. Peeps are for the Easter season. Summer, fall, and winter are for other candies, for goodness sakes!

But now it's Peeps season, and I opened my first package last night, as you can see from the evidence above. They are the new green ones, and they are fine. They melt in my mouth just like they are supposed to. These are the chicks, because the bunnies weren't on the shelf. I usually buy the bunnies because there are 16 in the pack instead of 15. After all, I want to get the most eating pleasure for my money. Next week, I'll be more patient and seek the bunnies out. Wow--Peeps season! Life is good...

Retro Fashion

Sue , this one's for you. You wanted to see a picture of my going-away outfit, so here it is. For anyone who couldn't figure it out, I'm the one on the left. The other girls were my best college buddies. The dress and coat were made of ecru linen, and the dress inside was a sleeveless a-line sheath. I was wearing an orchid corsage. The orchid was detached from the center of my wedding bouquet. That was how many bouquets were made at the time. The shoes were the height of fashion, brown mary-janes. It was a very cold day, and there was an ice storm going on, so I was pretty near freezing. I shopped for a long time for this outfit, but then, as now, winter clothes could not be bought in the winter. Since I hadn't bought the outfit six months in advance, I had to buy spring clothes when I shopped. I must have just put this on right before the picture was taken, or at least I hadn't sat down, because it seems, if memory serves, that the outfit wrinkled if you just looked at it crooked. I doubt I wore it very much after this occasion because it had to be dry-cleaned, and it was impossible to keep neat-looking. Not the wisest clothing purchase I ever made.

Of course, this outfit looks pretty conservative compared to many of the clothes that were the style in the early 70's. My kids love to look at the pictures of my jumpsuits and hot pants outfits with knee-high boots. I loved the jumpsuits, but I really didn't like the hot pants outfits. I wore them because Terry bought them for me, and he liked them. I didn't wear them often, however, because I tended to be conservative in my dress, and I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb when wearing them. Another clothing trend was culottes with opaque hose, which I liked to wear a lot.

When I started teaching in September, 1970, dresses and skirts were required wear for female teachers. During that first year I taught, the rule was made that we could wear pants suits. Not just slacks and sweaters, mind you, but actual dressy outfits with matching tops and bottoms. I was really glad to see that happen, because my legs never have been my best feature, and I was more than happy to cover them up. I went out and bought several to go with the short dresses and skirts that were also the style.

Not so surprisingly, much of what was popular then has returned to fashion today, just with different names. Hot pants are just short shorts, but I don't see too many people wearing white patent leather knee-high boots with them, which is just as well, believe me! Culottes are today's split skirts, and I see them a lot on the fashion pages, along with jumpsuits. Fabrics are different, and so are the names, but the trends are the same. I even saw a pair of shoes EXACTLY like my favorite shoes of the 70's made by the same manufacturer advertised in the paper last week. I could hardly believe my eyes. I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Today I am content with slacks and t-shirts, sweatshirts, or sweaters. You will almost never see me in a skirt. In the summer I will don capri pants, or what we used to call pedal-pushers when I was a kid. Shoes for me today are strictly chosen for comfort and tend to sneakers or pull-ons with sneaker soles. In the summer, I have a few pair of heavy duty sandals that I wear. Nothing so dainty or sexy for me anymore. It's all about neatness with comfort! Life is good...

Then... and Now (or Recently)

(I'm new at this scanning thing, so please bear with the quality and placement of the pictures.)

Today is our anniversary--37 years of wedded bliss, so to speak. Not all bliss, by any stretch of the imagination, but definitely good enough to make it work! :) You can see we have both changed more than a little. Even though you can't see it, we have changed inside as well, both of us for the better, as opposed to how our exteriors have changed.

We got married on Valentine's Day, 1970. Most people think this sounds romantic, but actually it is just because the holiday fell on a Saturday when Terry could get vacation time. Terry always has, however, remembered our anniversary, so this is good. The weather the day we got married was cold. It had snowed about 6 inches the night before the ceremony, but by 2:00, when the wedding took place, the roads were clear, so we had a good turnout. However, by the time our reception was over, a freezing rain had started to fall, and everything was icing over. It turned out to be the worst ice storm in Louisville's history, and we felt the beginnings of it as we headed out of town to Lexinton on our honeymoon. By the time we got there, roads were shutting down, and our car was covered with ice. It was a nerve-wracking drive, and we were both just plain exhausted when we checked in to our room. It was a good thing we had reservations because many people were spending the night in the lobby. We were glad to head for Florida the next day and get away from the mess.

However, back to the wedding itself. I really remember only bits and pieces of the event and the activities leading up to and following it. I remember getting dressed at the church and having my sister-in-law give me a drop of Binaca mouthwash and me spilling it on my beautiful wedding dress. It left a mark that stayed all day. I remember when the minister said, "Join right hands," and I put out my left one (I am left-handed, after all). I remember many friends from school and students that I had just been student-teaching being there. I remember that there were lots of people who wanted to talk to us, and that we were seemingly flitting from one group to the next. We didn't sit and eat, nor did we dance. We did open some gifts, which isn't done today. I remember changing into my "going-away" outfit of a linen dress and duster, only to go out in the freezing rain and get chilled. I remember one of us forgetting Terry's shaving kit at my parents' house and having to go back and get it before we ever got out of town. He was not happy about that and seemed to think it was my fault. I, of course, felt otherwise. Not a good way to start a honeymoon, but I know it was the stress of the wedding and then driving in all that mess in a car that was designed for speed, not bad weather. I remember that I was glad when the day was over, but that I regretted I didn't savor it more while it was happening.

We are now on our 37th wedding anniversary, and it will be spent quietly at home, as most of them in recent years have been. For the first several years, we went away for the weekend of our anniversary. Then for many years, when our kids were growing up, my sister and her husband graciously kept all three of them on the weekend of our anniversary so we could visit the National Farm and Machinery Show (Terry LOVED doing this) and have a night out (I LOVED doing this) here in town. Sometimes we would wait a month for better weather and go to Gatlinburg for a weekend while the grandparents babysat. Recently, various health problems have limited our celebrations. Hope springs eternal, however, and I believe that one of these days we will be able to do that again. I am looking forward to many more years to celebrate, so I don't mind waiting a little bit. Mainly, I just feel grateful knowing that we have made it this far, as many couples don't. Life is good...

Just As I Had Hoped...

...my trusty helpers came and helped me make 10 new pinecone bird feeders to keep our birds happy. The birds just didn't much care for the suet feeder that I used to replace the original pine cones, so we refilled the originals and made some more. We made enough to tide us over until the next visit, I hope! We hung two of them up before the boys went home today, and the birds have already found them and are chowing down. Making pine cone bird feeders is a messy job, just perfect for little boys, although Nick, like his grandma, doesn't really like to have messy hands. He enjoyed the work, but he wanted clean hands right after he was finished!

The bird feeder project was just one of the fun things we did this weekend. Just having the boys and their mother here was a weekend brightener, but the rest of the family came out for a visit yesterday, too. All we missed was Andy, and we did miss him. However, the rest of us had a very nice day. It's not often that we have all three kids and their families at home at one time, usually only for major holidays, but it just serendipitously worked out that both Chip and Doug, who usually work on Saturdays, were off. (Boy, that was a long sentence, wasn't it?) I got to cook for the family for a change, as we usually order pizza or something. Not that I fixed a fancy meal or anything, but it was something everyone liked. It was too bad that Chip, Shira, and Aiva had to leave before supper, but they were going out to eat before they went home, so I'm sure they had a nice meal, too.

Things had been very quiet around here lately, but life seems to be starting up again. Yesterday and this morning the house was abuzz with activity that made both Grandpa and me happy. Even with the unrelenting cold weather, maybe this is a sign of spring--both of the season and the spirit. :) Life is good!

One of the things that made me happiest was telling Nick to come back soon and hear him say, "I will come back ANY time!" It makes us old grandparents feel good to know that the kids are as happy to see us as we are to see them!

Peeves

Yesterday I had written this very eloquent (you'll have to take my word for it) post about the hysteria in weather forecasts lately, and I even included a picture. The picture was apparently my downfall, because after I added it, everything froze up and I couldn't publish the thing. I don't feel like writing the whole thing over, so you just get a list of peeves today--nothing big, just irritants, I guess. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Computers that freeze up just when you have finished writing something and before you can save it
2. Weather forecasts as major news that are full of hysteria about the cold and snow, which occurs every year anyway
3. Cold weather
4. A school bus -with kids on board-that roars down our little dead end road 6 times a day at a speed of anywhere from 40-50 mph
5. People who drop trash on the ground, even when there is a trashcan a few feet away
6. People who, when you hold the door open for them, breeze right on through without a thank-you or even noticing the peon who is helping them out
7. Sales clerks who won't respond in kind to pleasantness
8. People traveling up and down I-65 going all kinds of interesting places, while I drive the same 30-mile stretch over and over and over...
9. Books that don't have a happy ending
10. Misspelled words that are published in the newspaper or on television graphics
11. Newscasters who routinely mispronounce words or make up new politically correct pronunciations
12. People who say "hisself" and "theirselves" or "I done that" and other blatantly ungrammatical things ( I AM a retired teacher, after all.)
13. Humongous salaries of sports figures and movie stars, many of whom are very poor role models
14. The constant diet ads and articles that are designed to make you feel unhealthy and unattractive
15. Did I mention cold weather?

I guess that's the worst I can come up with, and it's not so bad. If that's the worst life has to offer me, then I know I have much for which to be grateful. I'll save that for another post, though. Life is good!

Reflections

Reading Alissa's post from yesterday started me reflecting on what my life was like when I was her age. Aside from the fact that she has a job, and I was a stay-at-home mom, there were more similarities than differences. I hope she sees the similarities...

Alissa believes she was not cut out to be a mom and that she is basically a loner. I, on the other hand, grew up believing that the ultimate career for me would be a wife and mother. I was a child of the 50's, and that was the aspiration for many, if not most, of the girls of my generation. I went to college and got a degree so that I could have a respectable profession, but I always hoped that I would get married and settle down with a family, using my profession as a back-up in case I never got married. I did very well in college and graduated to become an elementary school teacher. Within 2 weeks, I was married. I taught in a middle school for three years to save enough money for a down payment on a house, and then I gratefully "retired" to become a housewife and mom. A year later, in 1974, Alissa was born. I hadn't been such great shakes as a middle school teacher, and I wasn't a very good housewife because as I've said before, I don't like cleaning much. But when I was pregnant with Alissa, I decided that a mother was what I was born to be. I eagerly anticipated her birth, which was two weeks late.

And then reality set in. Suddenly I was totally responsible for this little person. I was on call 24 hours a day. That was a heavy responsibility. It seemed that she wasn't much of a sleeper, and I spent a great deal of time taking care of her. And it just kept multiplying. In 1977, just as Alissa was developing a little bit of independence, along came Chip. In 1980, just as Chip was exiting the baby stage, along came Doug. By then we were living on a small farm in a small rural community about 40 minutes away from my parents and long distance calls from my mom's advice. I was a stay-at-home mom like I'd always wanted to be, and I was pretty isolated, too. It wasn't all I thought it would be. I had pictured myself as Harriet Nelson or June Cleaver, but I was never that wise or sweet. Mainly, my kids had only each other to play with, and they got on each other's and my nerves quite a bit. I tried to do interesting things with them, but they had very different interests, so that didn't always work. It was usually worst in the winter, when we were all cooped up in the house, and school was out for snow, which happens at the drop of a snowflake in our county. I was always surrounded by kids who were, like Alissa's, full of energy and questions. Soccer balls bounced off the walls, toys were scattered everywhere, and one was always complaining about the other two. They did have their own rooms, to which I sometimes sent them just so I could have a moment of peace, but they still got on my nerves. There were many, many times when I would just think, like the commercial said, "Calgon! Take me away!" A bubble bath in a tropical setting sounded great, but it never materialized. I was trapped in a pattern of early rising and child care and housework, and I felt that all I would like was just one afternoon of peace and quiet with nobody else in the house and no responsibilities. It rarely happened, but I reasoned that someday I would have that peace and privacy when they were all grown up. Then I went back to teaching, and the beat went on.

Well, the kids have all grown up and moved out, and I have retired again, but now I have the biggest kid of all here. He retired before I did, and he has no hobbies or places to visit, so he is always here and usually wanting my company. Lately, he has been somewhat of an invalid, too, and it's winter again. I find myself singing that old refrain: "Calgon! Take me away!" Just like before, it hasn't worked! Maybe some day... :)

A Great Gift

Altthough I am not as good a photographer as Alissa, I just had to take these shots out our windows at the birds in the yard chowing down on these wonderful bird feeders. The pictures aren't too clear because the windows are pretty dirty from the winter rains. Anyway, Drew and Nick made these bird feeders for us for Christmas, and I waited until Nick could come up and help me hang them before we put them out. We had four, and we put out two. They were so popular with the neighborhood birds that they were used up pretty quickly, so I have hung out the other two. It's amazing how fascinating it can be to sit and watch the birds work at these feeders. The cardinals attack head-on, while the littler sparrows and juncos hover like a hummingbird would. It seems that we have created a routine, and now we will have to keep it up. After all, the birds are now depending on us for easy meals, and the weather is cold enough to warrant it. Either I am going to have to slather peanut butter and birdseed all over these cones again, or I am going to have to recruit the boys to come up and do it for me. That seems like the best idea to me! I know I could buy a traditional bird feeder, but the birds seem to like the peanut butter, and it does make them work for their meal.

Anyway, thanks, boys, for the great gift! Grandpa and I are getting a lot of pleasure from it!

Which Do You Prefer?

Not the pictures. The seasons. You can see that the color of the sky is virtually the same in both picures, but everything else is different. I am trying to branch out and paint out of my comfort zone, which is warm and sunny locales. And, while I like the picture of the Colorado snowy mountain, my heart is with the sunny Miami beach scene. I am a summer person. I do not like cold weather at all, and I would gladly live with the beach at my doorstep all year long. Unfortunately, that is not to be, so I paint pictures of it.

Most people I know like all the seasons and love the changing temperatures. While I can appreciate the fresh air of spring and the crisp air of fall, I find nothing to like about winter. Snow is pretty for about 10 minutes--make that 5--, and then I want it gone. I do not like being cold, and the weather the last few weeks has been cold clear through clothes, muscles, and skin to the middle of my bones. I must admit that we in the Ohio Valley have been spared the worst of winter so far. Until nearly the middle of January, temperatures were mild at worst and balmy at best. We were spoiled, I guess, as that is not the norm around here. However, it seems that our luck has run out. The forecast for the forseeable future is unrelenting cold. Even in the house, I am bundled up and spend much of my time huddled under an afghan. My mantra this time of year is, "I hate winter!" Most of my family and friends have heard me say that often enough, but it bears repeating. Spring cannot come soon enough for me. Everything outside right now is dreary, drab, and muddy. While there is no grass to cut or flower beds to weed, there isn't too much beauty to be had around here right now. Yuck!

I hope the late advent of winter isn't a harbinger of a late spring, but we'll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile, I will stay bundled up and keep painting the beach pictures and scenes that remind me that it won't be winter forever. I'll save the winter scenes for if I ever get too warm, so I may never paint another one!

Another Better Thing to Do...

...than clean house is reading, my all-time favorite pastime. I have been a reader ever since I learned how. It's such a great way to explore new places and have new experiences vicariously. I imagine I come by this passion honestly by the fact that both of my parents and my maternal grandmother were avid readers, and there was always reading material around my house. My dad still reads a lot and is the source of much of my reading material. Therefore, I am one of those people you see who carries a book most places that I may have to wait for something, like at the doctor's office or the hairdresser. I LOVE to read! And I thank my parents for the great example they provided me when I was growing up. Now I don't want to give the impression that I read a lot of deep and learned works. I am mainly a reader of light fiction, mostly mysteries with some historical stories and biographies thrown in for variety. I am not big into poetry, philosophy, short stories, or self-help books ( unless I am researching something). My all-time favorite book, political correctness notwithstanding, is "Gone With the Wind." It is one of the few books I have read several times and enjoyed each time. Usually, once is enough to read a book. There are far too many books out there to waste time reading the same one twice! For this reason, I am one of the library's best customers. Right now I am reading my way through several mystery series. I try to read them in order, but that's not always possible. I have read several Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich, and I am working my way through the alphabet series by Sue Grafton starring Kinsey Milhone. I am up to K in that series. I am also working on the "Prey" series by John Sandford. I'm also a big fan of the Kay Scarpetta books by Patricia Cornwell. I have also read most of Nora Roberts's work and lots by Debbie Macomber, Mary Higgins Clark, and Liz Curtis Higgs. I guess you can see a pattern here. It is easy to overlook the clutter on the kitchen table or the dust on the living room furniture when there are other worlds to explore. I can totally tune out my surroundings while I am wrapped up in a story, and that is pretty often, I'm afraid. Terry sometimes gets understandably frustrated when he is trying to talk to me, or he wants me to see something on the television, and I keep pointedly looking back at my book, not appreciating the interruption. It has been a bone of contention throughout most of our marriage. He is not a reader, and he can't understand my fascination with the written word. We have worked out a compromise, for the most part. He gives me uninterrupted reading time before bed, and at other times, I try to make myself available for his conversation. I love reading to children, and I like to employ different voices for the different characters in the stories. I got a lot of practice reading to kids while I was teaching, because I made a point to read to the class every day after lunch. It was a sacred routine in my classroom, and the kids would never let me get away without the reading time. I didn't get as much experience reading to my own kids, however. Alissa loved being read to until she could read herself, and then that's what she wanted to do. She is still a reader, reading me under the table, so to speak. Chip didn't really want to be read to, either, but he did grow up to be a reader. Doug did like to be read to, and we continued it until he was through elementary school, partly to help him improve his skills and party because he enjoyed the experience. I miss having the chance to read to kids now that I am retired. I look forward to having more chances to read to grandchildren, though! Well, Stephanie Plum is calling. She is in big trouble and less than 70 pages from getting out of it. I'll know pretty soon how the story ends!

I Told You I had Better Things to Do...

..than cleaning, didn'tI? One of those things is painting pictures. I have been interested in art since I was a little girl. My mom was a very good artist, and I wanted to be like her. I had a Jon Gnagy "Learn to Draw" set, and I drew a lot from that set. I can still see some of the pictures in my head. There was a head of a dog and a couple of scenes that are a little more vague in my memory. As I got into junior high, I had concentrated my landscape drawings to beach scenes (because that was always where I wanted to be) and my people drawings to fashion models, almost always in the same pose, just wearing different clothing. At one point, I painted an acrylic still life for a school project, but then I kind of got busy, and the drawing faded to the background of my life. Studies and basketball games and parties replaced the drawing. That remained the case for MANY years. I got married and my artistic tendencies turned more to crafts such as embroidery, crocheting, sewing, and knitting. You can tell I am a Gemini. I did many things adequately, but none expertly.

My mom continued to draw and paint, and it was still fascinating to me. I loved the impressionist paintings she did, but I never felt I was as good as she, so I concentrated my activities elsewhere. Finally, about 15-20 years ago, fabric embellishing became the fad. I picked this up right away, faithfully cutting out flowers, affixing them to shirts, and embellishing them with paint. I grew tired of this, and began using iron-on transfers, which I painted myself. This became too much like coloring in a coloring book, which I enjoy, but it didn't seem to show any talent, so I started doing my own designs on fabric. Everyone I knew received shirts and tote bags for gifts for a few years. I found I was pretty good at this, but my job as a teacher kept me too busy during the school year to do much. My hobby became a summertime pastime. And then I lost my biggest fan and cheerleader. My mom died about 10 years ago, and with her, my muse disappeared just that fast. Mom was my artistic partner and my inspiration, and without her encouragement, I simply didn't feel creative anymore.

Over the next several years, I made sporadic attempts at painting, but I was never satisfied with anything I did. Then I retired after the 2005 school year. Serendipitously, there was a notice in the local paper about watercolor classes being offered at the public library. My husband suggested I sign up, and I did. I have now been to several watercolor and acrylic classes there, and my muse woke up. I have found that my favorite subject matter is still landscapes, and beach scenes are the best things I do.

I tend to paint from photos and other pictures rather than real life, and I really like using Alissa's photos as they are so striking. I'm sure you can tell which image is from her work. We make a good team. She takes the beautiful pictures, and then I paint them. I will just have to get her to the beach so that she can shoot me some beautiful sunsets from there! Meanwhile, I have sent for a bunch of travel brochures from different parts of the country for inspiration.

I have found that I really enjoy painting again. My mom surely sees the pictures from her vantage point, and I have new fans, who seem to keep appropriating the pictures I paint, which is fine with me. Maybe I'll start a picture right now!

Let Me Clarify...

In rereading yesterday's post, I believe I may have given the indication that I am a real mess as a housekeeper. While I am not really neat, I am not like those people I see on the television shows that have so much clutter you cannot get through their houses. Most of my house is reasonably neat. My bed gets made most days, and the dishes are done daily. You don't often have to move piles of junk from the furniture in order to sit down. However, I do have a "nest" around my recliner chair with things I want to do (crossword puzzles, sketch pads, magazines to read) on the left and things to throw away, like the daily newspaper and catalogs, on the right. I throw those things in the garbage can every morning. I do keep piles of books to read or projects to do on my desks, and the kitchen table seems to be a repository for everything that comes into the house, where it stays until I get around to putting it away. Clean storage dishes sit on top of the counter because it is difficult for me to access the cabinet where they are supposed to reside. I am going to use them again soon anyway, so it's not worth the effort to nest them neatly in the cabinet. I am pretty good at overlooking the clutter in my house. I simply don't notice it most of the time. However, after a while, I suddenly see it, and it seems I can't rest until I clean it up. I'm always really proud of how things look when I clean up and put things away, and I vow to keep it that way. That lasts until the next time I get busy and don't take the time to file things or pack them up, and so the cycle begins again. One of these years soon, Terry and I will be preparing to downsize our living space, necessitating getting rid of a lot of our 37 years worth of accumulated stuff. Maybe then I will become a neater and more organized person. Nah--I don't think so. I simply don't care enough to worry about it. There are a lot more fun things to do!

Let Me Clarify...

In rereading yesterday's post, I believe I may have given the indication that I am a real mess as a housekeeper. While I am not really neat, I am not like those people I see on the television shows that have so much clutter you cannot get through their houses. Most of my house is reasonably neat. My bed gets made most days, and the dishes are done daily. You don't often have to move piles of junk from the furniture in order to sit down. However, I do have a "nest" around my recliner chair with things I want to do (crossword puzzles, sketch pads, magazines to read) on the left and things to throw away, like the daily newspaper and catalogs, on the right. I throw those things in the garbage can every morning. I do keep piles of books to read or projects to do on my desks, and the kitchen table seems to be a repository for everything that comes into the house, where it stays until I get around to putting it away. Clean storage dishes sit on top of the counter because it is difficult for me to access the cabinet where they are supposed to reside. I am going to use them again soon anyway, so it's not worth the effort to nest them neatly in the cabinet. I am pretty good at overlooking the clutter in my house. I simply don't notice it most of the time. However, after a while, I suddenly see it, and it seems I can't rest until I clean it up. I'm always really proud of how things look when I clean up and put things away, and I vow to keep it that way. That lasts until the next time I get busy and don't take the time to file things or pack them up, and so the cycle begins again. One of these years soon, Terry and I will be preparing to downsize our living space, necessitating getting rid of a lot of our 37 years worth of accumulated stuff. Maybe then I will become a neater and more organized person. Nah--I don't think so. I simply don't care enough to worry about it. There are a lot more fun things to do!

Vindicated!

Anyone who knows me knows that tidiness isn't my strong suit. I am a messy person by nature. I tend to dress fairly neatly, and my thoughts are usually pretty organized, but the space around me is pretty cluttered. It seems it has always been this way. Even when I was a kid, my room was always a mess, and my closet floor was full of junk. My mother was always making me clean my room, but the lesson never really stuck. I was a mess in my college dorm, but my roommate kept me cleaning and straightening, mainly because there wasn't enough space to be messy. Then I got married, and my husband was a former Marine. You know I became a spiffy housekeeper, right? Wrong--he tried to reform me (and still does when he is up to it!), but it was a hopeless task. There are piles of paper on my desk, stuff on the kitchen table, storage dishes on top of the counter instead of in the cupboard, socks on top of the dresser instead of in the drawer... I could go on, but I think you get the picture. I used to hurry around and clean up when people came over, but I don't do much of that anymore. Everyone knows I am a mess! I was going to try to get organized when I retired, but I don't seem to have made much progress at that in the last year and a half. Of course, January is the time that you read all the articles about resolutions to get organized, and you see all the ads for storage containers. That means it is time to seriously start cleaning up, and I usually do make a stab at it. However, when reading the Sunday paper, I noticed a story about an author that wrote a book that states that neatness isn't all it's cracked up to be. It seems a messy area really is the mark of a creative mind. Apparently, smart and creative people are too busy doing these types of things to worry about the mundane issues of cleaning and organizing. This author states that neat and organized people simply don't have anything better to do with their time, and that they are humorless and boring people( he actually called them prigs). I don't know that I would go that far, but I do like the part about being creative and smart! Evidently all those piles represent ideas and things the creative and smart person needs to remember. I tend to agree in part with this. I am always tearing out pictures I may want to paint or recipes that I may want to prepare. I set them on a table, and then more things get piled on top of them. So I am done feeling guilty because I am such a slob! I'm just creative! Life is good!