Ottoman or Adirondack- Your Choice

It's hard to sit and write when there is not a shred of genius floating through yur noggin;'. Which as some English teacher person would say to sit and write anyway and they call it some name like writer's block.

So I will just free write here because it feels like this is the time that would mean somethin to someone who is struggling too. It sucks. I am sorry.

Sometimes when I look at my son- like just now when he was on his bike and my boots were up on my thing that I have to use that just left my brain- oh, walker. Yes, my walker. My nephew likes to push it around b ut i hate it.

And my computer is causing grief so bear with the typos. Anyway, I looked at him hoppng his bike up over things, whip his head back to remove the mop on his hed so he can see and I think:

"He has No idea what is ahead."

Heck, I don't. 

maybe he knows more than I do. He has seen me do my medical gig for 12 years now so he isn't a a novice when it comes to knowing what you might have to endure.

I talked with the gal at P.T. and she has lesson for Sunday and she was talking about how to help on another and be "sisters" to each other and how we can do that. She mentioned my blog doing that. I was taken aback. That was so nice of her to say.

I talked to an old friend earlier. She and others have been on my mind. I send letters but I needed to call this friend. And give her the update.
It is funny, I bought this ottoman so that folks could have a seat if they visited me and I was in my room. Got the Adirondacks.

And, anyway, I invited Padre own to sit on it and chat.

When I invited him to sit on my otto he said: "What ottoman?"

"Well, if you move the clothes, paperwork, etc. it's under there."

So he sits facing my stars and then mid- my- sentence he notices that I have put up some sticky command dealios. I forget what I was trying to say to him but it was funny.

"One of these stars is gonna drop right on yor  noggin' " was another observation he had of my constellations.

Anyway,I had a good chat with my friend and I am glad to connect with them.

I gotta tell J myster to get ready for his game, get his water- it's in the 80's readers. ugh. I bet he wshed his mop was a cut all of when having to play in this sorta weather. There is a slight winde picking up so I hope he isn't in a dust storm.

I hope I can take in a play or two tonight. Add pics later.

Yesterday's Part II

After J. made me laugh I headed to Kohls to return the pants and return to

him.

Him and his game.

Him pitching.

I grabbed the wheel chair to support me and the pants to the back of the store.

Then I quickly look for shirt, maybe?

Then my body crumbles.

 

And I hurt really bad in my gut. In my feet. lower legs. Shins.

The bathroom calls.

My feet carry me as fast as my discinergrating muscles can carry me.

And I'm there a long time.

 

 

And I am tired.

I move the clothes I'd found out of the wheelchair and I sit in it finally.

 

I move forward to get outta there and back to him.

I need water and I chat with a gal who knows my pain.

 

It takes me time to get out and an Orange Julius to help replenish what I lost.

 

But I see him bat!

Does he know my eyes are on him? I watch him ready to hit, practice swinging.

 

He almost nails two cars. One of which is mine. I knew that was why the spot was open.

But i had to see him: My ball player.

 

It is late. Middle of the night. I ache so badly through out my body for pushing so hard to get to him.

 

J., when I was doing that return you were all that was on my mind.

Overcoming disease, physical therapy for the injuries from others actions.

 

I just want to be there for you. But I can't always be there. I am in my heart. I hope you feel that.

 

****************************

the bottoms of my feet are burning-because of prednisone desimating the fascia, the ligaments, the tendons.

I am going to put ice on my feet. It was great when you came home from the game.

 

Awesome ending to your first game.

 

Big hug,

 

mom

 

 

Baseball vs. Football- Funny Post



 

J. told me the difference between baseball and football today.
 

 I had to take J. to the ball park for the first baseball game of the Season and learned what made them different.

 

Coach said to be early.

So we were.

In fact, We were the only ones sitting there, not counting those who are across the street in the cemetary, for a long time,

 He was pitching the first couple innings and had to be there five minutes earlier than the rest of the kids.

So it was him, me, and cemetary people.
For a long time.
I think I felt the gravel settling in the parking area.

"Ya sure it was tonight?" I teased,  but to be sure I checked my phone at the text messages from his coach today.

Yup. We were at the right place, right night. So on and so forth.



So it was one of those moments J and I were stuck in a moment -like when that long train came along and we had a loooong time in the car together. When we get stuck together like this, we talk to each other deeper than surface stuff..

I get more outta him than: "How was school?" and he says: "Good." And then he is out the door to his pal's house.

These moments harken back to when he was real little and we'd have "tub talk" . Which was where he soaked in the warm water and I sat on a hard stool while he told all about everything. Or enjoyed having me read to him in there. Now it's a once in a while Pillow Talk.

We used to chat for long periods and now we'll holler from the bedrooms (each with our heads on a pillow) "Good night!" or "We forgot prayer!"  and he moans and so we try to get it done.

The day had already been packed with things my body is trying to handle doing as it readies to handle not doing so much. MOre on that later.

I had a huge task ahead of me- a return.As in an article of clothing back to the store return.

 He is now passing the sacrament and a pair of pleated pants had to go back to Kohl's. Ugh. Madre had gotten a couple to try out while  was in P.T. and now I had to get the others back out.

Getting him to his game after P.T. was pushing it.  In fact I felt the last of my strength ebbing as we talked.

After some time, I was thinking: ' where are these kids?????' Come ON! Cause I had to come back and watch him pitch and my body was winding down. Thanks, prednisone. Truly. Thank you for ruining my body and making it so it can never feel energy in the same way ever again. Thank you.



Another thing I had going against me was that they had done some new trick on me at P.T. that the boss calls Snake Venom- i.e. we don't know if it works but we try it anyway. Baaaaadddd for today.

I hurled my body into Padre's truck and wanted to bawl afterward. And so did the rest of my systems.

Where the heck was I? Oh, yeh. Sitting there talking with Jaden. I'd coaxed him to wear the new pants I got him so I could wash the others and get the knee stains out.



Okay, who am I kidding? I will mix up the famous stain mixture but someone else has to do the elbow greasing. Mel, please hurry home!

So we get really talking. Start laughing. Hear some good songs on the radio.

"Don't ya love game day?"

 I ask. Remembering and feeling the excitement like the first time you hear a great song. Seeing him there looking all cleaned up and suited up in his uniform- the thick muscles of his thigh that I pat to the beat of a song maturing like he was a teenager or something.

"Depends." he replies.

Good answer. Always answer this way. But I hate it when he uses it on me. "On what?" I sigh.

"Baseball game days are different than say football game days."

"How so?"  I ask knowing pretty much the difference.

The only thing different about today and football season was that it was actually warm and not blowing and snowing. Kidding. But it was unusual for Idaho. Baseball season is rough. And football. Weather wise.

"Football: ya got the Rabid fans up in the stands. And all the coaches giving you 'the look'"

What look is that?

He pretends to hold a clipboard and looks off in the distance with The Look- Which is basically do this or DIE in the next practice.

"Every moment and play is pumped."

"Baseball is more chill. If ya strike out. Meh. If ya hit it--- it's a good day."

: )

The Secret to Life & Death~ Carrots



Enjoy my post! (4/27/15- just getting to this to add and edit. sorry. )



(Piggy & Dirt from etsy. Easter Star)

"Carrots. Eat Carrots."

 Stephanie told me

While she sat in the plastic, white outdoor lawn chair my employer had provided for customers to sit in and enjoy ice cream or chocolates.

I hated to remind her that we were in a chocolate store.

 

 

It was a summer scene inside but winter outside the painted windows. Painted by a professional painter of cute things on windows.

'Carrots?' I repeated in my mind.

That was it?

That was THE secret, the serious advice she had for me?

 Part of me had been mining her brain for several weeks on how to navigate life on prednisone and having Crohns.-

because she was so close to death,

The natural woman in me

 assumed and wanted to know what possibly may lay ahead....

So I kept a close ear to the ground during  our friendship for anything I may "need" to know.
And I felt I had something to teach her- that she was valued.

 It was shocking that this piece of advice, randomly said one day, as if she was having a moment where some voice told her to tell me to eat the veggie.

It could possibly be what I needed to do while on prednisone. Since she was on it. Who knows.

Now that I have taken the shape of a fruit, the blueberry, thanks to prednisone, it makes complete sense.

So back to when my friend Stephanie gave me the critical, social saving tid-bit of information one day at the chocolate store:






Amazingly I didn't balloon while working at the store-which also sold the Reed's Dairy ice cream that I scooped when as a teen. It was much smaller than it is today. Word spread that it as as divine as Florence's chocolates...

So you know a woman going through chemo after a bone marrow transplant will crave things.  And , like me, these people will on occassion come across someone acting selfishly by wanting  to know some details about the pain she endured and how I could "avoid" it.



Which reminds me of Nancy Luce from Martha's Vineyard. I blogged about her a bit ago she is The lady who had chickens for friends. Well she wrote to the people that would possibly come see her, to do so [visit] in a genuine way- that if they were coming in the spirit of mockery or to tell others about her in a mean way then she wanted them to stay away.

I hope I wasn't that kind of friend or am being that wat by blogging about her right now. I am surprised that her advice to me I have totally ignored. The part about eating the carrots.

Back when she said it,


I scribbled down the orange vegetable Stephanie told me to chomp on in my

 

mental notebook

 because my subconscious must have had some idea that, many years later, I would need to heed that advice.

C-a-r-r-o-t-s not C-o-o-k-i-e-s.I spelled out in my brain.

 

 

(look at that cute kid! Almost a decade ago! This is HIS month! I need to write about him for fun.)

 

Seeing Steph when she came in every so often for her sweet tooth fix, I sized her up (figuratively) and sized up my situation:

(Crohns and visiting the bathroom 30 times a day at the time; I didn't think I'd ever need to worry about turning into a blue berry. I didn't think it would be possible to balloon up! Then I met a woman who was over weight and had Crohns. 

I made the assumption that she must not have it so badly- I wasn't able to keep anything inside me. And that  must hurt worse, right? Wrongo! Don't you love how life goes along and makes  you see things in a whole new light?

 Ah, how young and dumb I was.

We had serious conversations about life, Steph and I. She brought in her wedding pictures, her photo albums of her life- she wanted me to know what she looked like before all that had happened medically. 

Just as I have wanted you to see me before I grew the neck fat pad, I guess.



She needed to show proof of her life, not just for cancer's sake and her life hung in the balance but that she had been beautiful.

Cancer can do ugly things.  


 I really enjoyed our talks. I shared with her how I felt and being on prednisone; she listened.

After seeing her pictures,  I admit, I wondered how on earth a smart, good looking guy was 'okay' with the prednisone weight gain. I know, I know, I thought I was Christ-like and had suffered enough- gads I'd gone through a surgery that would make war vets shudder- but I still needed to learn.  still do.

 We also talked about death and she spoke solemnly to me about some of the events and pain she'd felt. So you can imagine when she used the same solemn voice and gave me the same 'eye piercing look into my soul' when she said to; ""eat carrots, I was mystified.



CARROTS?

Let me repeat that-

Carrots.



Stephanie and I became friends over chocolate, ice cream and our life stories- and how they were or could be similiar. Even if I was dealing with prednisone and she was too. Come to think of it, we never eat carrots together.
(Chemo now requires prednisone. )

I wrote an article about Steph that was placed in a publication for my church- The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Which is the pg version of our talks, my impressions and such.
 This is the Rated PG-13 version, I guess.

* 4/11/15- I miss her. I know that she has helped me when I have suffered. I believe that. I believe that we were friends for a reason. I also feel that her mom and I became friends for a reason too. She passed away from cancer much later. It aches when those who you talk with, laugh with, those who understand- pass.



Her mom told me that she tried to help her eat "healthy" toward the end but the doctor said it wouldn't change the outcome. No changing the Campbell Soup Girl, with her round rosy cheeks.
That just sounds and looks better- Campbell Soup Girl.



I found that off of one of the Cushing's Sites.

I started this post some time ago.... and coming to it to put some pics on, I feel a bit emotional. (some time ago and not today.)


Anyway, Readers, so you know,  she meant more to me than finding out "gorry, end of life details"- but let's face it, we all wanna know details. We want to call upon each other and get the scoop.  I think we do this because it stems from our fears- fears that we too might travel the same route and need/want the details of how to get through it. And on a scale of 1-10 how bad it will be.

(See- this is wayyy cuter than referring to your syndrome as "The Ugly Disease" which it is called)



OR- maybe I needed it and God knew who to send my way to help me with the path I would have to take.

 The bad is off set by cute things like this:

(work to be done? Put on shorts and cowboy boots and work gloves! then watch your dad cut down a tree. Except if you are in a stroller. Then you are turned around for some reason.)

(this kid is lucky enough to live on a real farm He is the one in the stroller above. Sad that hair is gone! He is grown up now!)

 



(A cake about skiing. Something that we can't do cause all the snow is back east or up north.)



I

(Aww. I won't be gardening this year. Kind of relieved.)



Stephanie brought her photo album to show me her husband- he was really cute- I didn't unerstand why she was so heavy until she explained she put on an enormous amount of weight before she was married and they had to change her wedding dress due to.... drum roll.... prednisone!

"You will crave all sorts of things." she waved her hand around the candy store. Luckily I was too sick to crave it and when I did eat it, it just left my body lickety split.

(I grew some great things back in the day......)

"Carrots. Eat Carrots."

So that was secret to navigating the whole illness thing- just eat carrots.

"You feel bad enough when you are sick but throw in the  weight factor and developing what is called Cushing Syndrome and it adds a new dimension. Literally.

I have been reading people's stories who have struggled with it and other immune disorders, and I am so sorry! Lyme Disease is another horrid one that a friend of mine is dealing with at this time in her life and it hurts to see her go through so many "losses."

I am grateful for what I have learned due to these things but it is still hard to deal with on a day to day basis. Especially if you add things in the mix like someone rear ending your parked car.

Or someone running into your parked car when you were on a mini date.

Being sick and weak make it harder for these events in life. Thankfully Padre is going to P.T. and we can support each other in the healing process. He and  have yet to eat Carrots together either. maybe we should.

(The Red rosy cheeks are a symptom of Crohns, being on prednisone, and Cushings. So you can see how rare it is to diagnose at first. How the soup company got a model who had one or all of these illnesses is baffling.)



So as Easter approaches, *this is a stale post, Readers, Sorry.  If you happen to be on prednisone go ahead and eat the carrot cake.

Not all of it.

Keep up the physical therapy! And try to NOT give up because your story means something. People might seek you out for advice. They may even need to hear the morbid details of how painful a bone marrow transplant might be or how to endure being over weight and where to buy something that fits.

And they will need to hear and see that you are okay with it, so when it is their turn, they will know to eat chocolates in moderation and carrots by the bucket load.

Pin the Soccer Ball on Scott Sterling's Nose



OH, I forgot to mention that J's cake was Scott Sterling's Jersey.
He had a blast with friends and Nerf guns. When does Nerf ever get old?
They should have them in nursing homes!
But I thought it would be hilarious to do a game of stick the soccer ball to Scott's nose.
If any of you have not seen Studio C's soccer goalie's spoof you have to.
Just get die cuts of soccer balls, have your neighbor print up his face (laminating is optional) and have another exceptionally good cake decorator make his jersey.
Done and Done. He's finally 12. I can't believe it!

My Ball Player-His Bday

Jaden looks like a ball player.


A tween one.

He looked likes Norman Rockwell's little guys many years ago but not so much now.

 

My ball player is growing up.

Picking out his nicest, whitest T (he saves the grubby stuff for school and such)

he tucked the Hurley shirt into his pants, and over some serious gluets, did up the navy belt around a waist that has adult girth, and pulled navy socks over lean calves. Then I waitd as his cleats squeked over the linoleum into the living room andout the door in a dash- he jumped in Padre's truck for read for baseball practice.



As he tied up those laces Padre made sure none of the cleats went through his interior leather seats.

I had the op to see him play on a warm evening at practice. It was on the same field that we went to when he was just two and I was camera happy.

I was watching misty eyed as my boy crouched into the ready position and pushed his glasses up on his face. (hates contacts) Then the coach cracked one and he had to fling himself toward second base and snag it mid air before hitting the ground.

He knew I was there and a fan always makes you play better, eh?

But like I said-he is built like a ball player.

Football. Baseball. Basketball. Whatever.

Am I bragging? Yes. Am I right? Yes.

If he wants, those muscles of his can carry him across finish lines of a track so fast.

I did not know this when  he was young- other than he wanted to throw a ball and drool all over it like most babies and men. He just loved the game. He always has. And that meant pitching to him.



He made me pitch to him over and over. Since he was my job that's what we did. Along with bike or walk or drive a car in a circle over and over.

Before I looked like the Campbell's Soup Girl.

Instead of Cushings Syndrome being called the Ugly Disease, I liked the reference of Campbell's Soup Girl better. She's cute. Yes, the red, rounded face is there. But she's cute. My ball player says I'm cute despite this horrid side effect of being on steroids long term and finally developing the illness.

I think I will stick with it.

Being the Co-Pilot to catch J's Dreams

This is J's month and so I have a lot of stuff directed toward him and my memories... Enjoy.



*My friend Bob's Beechcraft. Still brings chills to see this. Planes. The feeling of flying!

Years ago J. decided he wanted to be a Pilot.

 

Long before he met his best friend whose Dad is a Pilot.

We live by an airport.

I guess it was sorta just meant to be that the desire would follow.

This wing makes me feel strong emotions... don't know why.
 

Long before I thought he could really know what he wanted to do but he said he wanted to fly those helicopters that save people's lives.

He must have got that idea by going to the hospital, seeing how cool it was when one took off or arrived carrying someone who was in dire need while I went in the other doors in dire need.


My friend, Dean Curtus has a program to help kids (older than the age J. was, 4)

decide and commit

to what they want to become professionally.

Dean's  program has cards in it to help HS aged kids nail down the steps to making that happen. In the program they tangibly decide what strengths they have,  etc.

It is called: Education Catch the Dream. And Dean, the Founder of the non-profits, had me and his daughter go through it one afternoon.

I must have been 33 or something.  I even had J. do the whole 'Education Catch the Dream' program to see it it would and could work on a kid. It did. He has a card that is still attached to a
Dream Catcher that hangs in my room. For some reason it is in here cause it is is cute that he wrote on it in his little kid hand writing.

Anyway, when we were doing the sequence of figuring out what he wanted to be and how to make it happen J. knew EXACTLY  what he wanted.



 Age makes us fear and give up I guess. When the work gets tough.

 He didn't know about counselors that help you figure out what forms to fill out to get a scholarship, or the impending hard work of learning a thing-he just knew me and what his heart wanted.

We went through cards that talked about strengths and weakneses and the hurdles that might come in the way. Being so young I didn't think he would be able to think of many but he nailed a few!

Numero Uno: money.

J: "Planes are expensive"

 he told me up to the table while Care's very old, and very (sorry Care) bad breathed bull dog looked up to us for any scraps of food to fall.

Yes, they are.

We had to scrape hard to earn to go purchase the ones at Wal-Mart. And, at 4, there aren't a lot of
" high end paying jobs." But we found a few, like taking advantage of the families love of Coca Cola and used that to earn some pennies.

After he had mastered learning to ride his bike at that age he wanted to pull his "trailer" that I'd pulled him in only a few weeks before, to haul his cans to the recyclers downtown.

Drivers LOVED this. Me on the orange bike and J. pulling the trailer.








We got more honks that day than when I was a tank top wearing flower girl for the city of I.F. pulling weeds outta the flower beds.
and went from there! We searched high and low for bi-planes.





J. coming in to give me tell me something and give me kiss. Padre snapped this photo of us in Yellowstone. It means a lot to me. You can barely see his bike seat above the bench but his camel bak is on and his helmet in place and I will never forget how J. helped me re-learn to ride a bike too.
After a stint of e. coli in the hospital he helped me find my barings. Thanks, Son.

That bike is now gone- traded in to help him get another bike and becuase I couldn't ride it. It was a bit big but is full of memories. I plan on riding again one day.

Anyway, back to the day of

 

Picking yer Profesion...

I laugh thinking about this day because it was full of fun. The sun was shining. The Curtus clan was climbing all over the yard and my kid was mixed up in it.

Kids were jumping on the tramp, on furniture, and their grandparents were on the floor playing games with them. There were no worries. Just living life. And it felt good.

In my mind I wanted to be like Dean and his wife there on the floor and engaged with their grandkids. They weren't rushed or stressed just enjoying their grandkids.

Jaden  took what he wrote down and strung it along the leather part of the Dream Catcher and hung it in his room. On the front it says his dream and on the back; how he will get it done.

In his best writing at that age he wrote: hard work. mom.

So I was co-pilot to make his dreams come true.  

 

That is a tall order.

Today I took him over to the church for an interview. He is turning 12 and that means he will pass the sacrament and become a decon. In our church this is a big step. He is getting the Priesthood.

I had Kurt make this logo that I love from Best Made. Co. It is the X in Ax.

 

 

In the Book of Mormon there is a section in Alma 39= I have it summarized and printed off what I wanted J. to think of when he saw this:

"Now my son, I would that ye should repent and forsake your sins... for exept ye do this ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God. Oh, remember! and take it upon you, and cross yourself in these things."

For those of you unaware of the Book of Mormon and those of us who belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints- the BofM is much like a blog. Important information however.  That was written on gold plates and lugged around by Prophets  so the people would remember what to do.

Anyway, Alma, like me, painstakingly wrote down some things he hoped his boys would remember otherwise they could choose a different path and be like chaff to the wind (Alma 37:15).

But if he keeps the commandments and remembers what his Dad told him he'd have power that not even the earth or hell could take from him. -- heavy stuff, Readers. But this is J's month and as his co-pilot, I have to do some co-piloting.

Alma continues and reminds them about God's promises. Which, compared to J and I's pinky promises- is huge. Alma had more than one son. (whew. I just have the one) One he had a lengthy letter and told him to teach repentance , faith in Jesus Christ, to be meek and lowly in heart, learn wisdom in his youth - where I come in- cry unto God (through prayer) cause your co-pilot can only do so much... and he'll need to counsel with God for direction.

In essence, if you keep the C's then you will pass this test, if not it will be a lot harder and you will be cut off from the presence of God. (home)



This house has a cute saying on it and it doesn't have "Home" squezzed in at the end. Sorry, neede more room.


Jaden and I have our moments where we have promised each other and commited not just to trying to work hard for what we want to do as a profession but enjoy life; to overcome the hurdles of getting back to God and Enjoy the journey- not just endure it.

 J. works hard and plays harder.

There is something about those moments when we give one another the eye and the pinkies are linked and vow to do what we say we will do. Like not give up. Ever.

This star says:

 

'Never give up until you see the Face of God.'

 

 That was said by Joseph Smith.

It is on our school "Communication Board." Which I hope he glances at on occassion.



I have to admit I am pretty astonished at what has been thrown at us as we've tried to make our dreams come to fruition.

Gotta stop here. my muscles hurt.

Angels

 

There must be a hundred of them watching out for us. Despite all the things that have happened we are really blessed. Personally and with extended family most recently!

 

Recently I have done my research on Cushings Disease. As you know, I like to read about other's stories and have come to find amazing ones. Ones that inspire me and find the ability to reach down deep and press on.

 

When you or a loved one has a disease or is sick, you study a lot. Or maybe it is just me. But I love to learn when I can.

 

 

I love this artwork of J's. They are Birch trees. Remind me of the ride up to the Tetons but in Zen Fashion. So, of course I had to throw on a Zen Star that Kurth has made from Piggy & Dirt.

 

Too cool. J's talents amaze me. This month is HIS month. So I am thinking of him a lot.

 

Love to look at his art work from my pilot position.... : )

 

 

My grandmother has held nto a lot of things. This star is made from tissue paper that held a vase my Uncle sent my grandmother 40 years ago. It was turnning yellow in her basement so I saved some of it in an acid free paper holder and then had Kurt Knudsen from Piggy and Dirt on etsy place it in this star for her.

 

 

 

 

I think it turned out pretty cool. It is best on the wall so the indig print shows up!

 

I love preserving memories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And looking out windows!

 

I guess I need to remember when God closes a door he opens (or let's ya look out one!)

Best in Blog

I have taken some great photos in the past.

And they are hard to find sometimes. So I am looking through them and putting them here because I like how my garden looked, how I made it look compared to what it looks like now.

There won't be a garden this year. Rock, yes. Flowers and plants, no. Why? Because I gotta heal.
So interspersed between my outloud blogging you new readers can be introduced to me and you old readers can just let your eyes gloss over like a doctor who sees a lot of patients.

Right now the trees are trying to do this:

This was the Apple Tree that we cut down. Kept wanting to grow into the telephone lines.

 

 

 

Here is me harvesting Rhubarb. Hence, the idea for a book that became a blog....

 

Morning sun and Coke help make pie.

 

This photo can almost bring back the feel of the water washing over my hands and the Rhubarb.

 

 

 

 

Crunching through the stalks....

 

Vintage bowl of Grandma's ready for the sugar:

 

Aww...... sugar and flour make f0r divine.

 

Pie that requires eaten with a spoon.

 

 

Readers, this is what I did a long time ago. When I was able.  I hurt and worked through but things have changed.

 

Some never do- like the game of baseball.

 

 

 

J heading the plate and which he will do this spring. Can anyone say: Roy Hobbs?

 

I pitched to this kid using only six, different sized balls.

 

I miss that.

 

 

Me back in that day.

 

I made it look easier than it was to pitch. Maybe my young un knew it. Maybe not. But it was hard.

 

Sun or SNOW- I got him to the hill. At Freeman- there is actually a slope and he was the first to board it. I think this was in Sept. of some year long past. I had to pull him in his tobaggan to pat the snow down, then he could "ride" it down. 1st grade.

 

 

Me n J on my real bday. (I am a Leap Year Girl)

 

The Garden in winter and me wanting to plant as I hand washed the dishes.

 

 

My inspiration. Which is in another room cause there is no room in my room!

(hmmm..... what would I type up to put on the Royal Deluxe today?)

 

 

Physically things are getting hard but nothing a Little Anne Frank can't encourage, no?

Her pic is in the upper left hand of the mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

Wishing......

 

 

 

Going to Church

 

Being able to wear heels..... I miss that, too.

 

 

A Perfect Petunia.

 

Whatever it was, I loved it.

The Last of the Mammoth Sunflowers Fall Foreshadow-

 

I love these views when in a garden.

^^^^^^

 

Not long after we moved from Utah to Idaho. This is a favorite picture of J. and I. We read and sang before each nap and nightime.

 

One day, at age 2, he sang How Great Thou Art to Me. Never did it again. It was just one of those miracles.

 

 

 

First genuine leather mitt. Or Second. I forget.

 

 

This should catch everybody up on what inspired me to start a blog, what I love, why I write.

 

And give you an idea at where we have been to where we are now.....

 

To be continued on another post.