Choosing happy

I refuse to be sad! If I spend one moment dwelling on the situation in our country, I have the urge to cry.  I want to cease reading or watching any kind of news.  Optimism is hard to muster when a madman opens fire on a peaceful protest, with the escorting police officers his target. Politicians all strive to make their mark in the aftermath...and I just want to cry.  This is the reality, I must face daily and yet I hope it will get better.

My life is pretty good. We live in a safe neighborhood.  Our city is usually safe enough to move around without feeling threatened.  We live comfortably, wanting for little.  Good restaurants are available, entertainment is near and varied.  Our house is on a hill overlooking a beautiful golf course and a lake beyond. Healthcare is readily available to us and we are well insured from the financial burden of same. Membership in a large loving church congregation soothes our spirit. So why am so troubled?

I ran across an article a few days ago that seemed to give rise to my melancholy.  As a young person hearing the Russian Premier Kruchev tell our president that they would destroy us from within, I shuddered.  He seemed so certain.  As a young adult, the memory surfaced when I read Saul Alinsky's "Rules for Radicals."  The process for creating and controlling a population to create a social state seemed so simplistic, I refused to believe Americans would ever allow it to happen..  All of the principles from Alisky's formula are in place in our country today. I see a struggle to resist, but it is pathetically weak. Our children have been subject to an education that presents a social state as a sort of "Utopia" and selectively edits history and science.  This will be their country to inherit. 

I will not dwell on this any longer.  Putting my concerns in writing gives me a bit of release, even as I hear a physician talk in a tear filled voice about the recent massacre.  I must turn inward and be thankful for my many blessings.  I have children and grandchildren that are part of our hope for the future.  It is their future and I will not wallow in guilt for leaving them with it.  I will enjoy life and love the people that make it worth living.  I will keep my friends near and remember to talk to them often.  I will do the projects and travel to the places that are my happy plans.  Our pastor shared a passage I recognize.  It gives me comfort.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 Be joyful always. Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. (NIV)

Bad Story

Have you ever felt as though you fell short through no fault but your own?  I did that this weekend.  Several weeks ago, I was approached by our church matriarch.  She requested that I tell my story at our annual women's retreat.  MY story...MYYYYYY story, not much to tell, but she seemed to think younger women in our church could benefit from hearing...yes MY story! I asked the question and she assured me a few short minutes was really all that was expected, not a sermon, just a few words.  I moved it to the back of my brain, it was several weeks away and I'd give it some thought when the time was nearer.

A couple of days before the event, I attempted to pull some thoughts together, wondering if I could think clearly long enough to articulate my story in a manner worth hearing. My plan included quoting relevant scripture proved true throughout my life. The morning came to go; I was packed and ready to load the car. I knew the verses I wanted to use, but wasn't sure of the exact location. No problem my procrastinating brain offered, I pulled out my Kindle to be sure it was charged and ready.  It was not, in fact it was totally dead.  Plan B, grab the heavy edition of my NIV study Bible. It went in the bag and I quickly tried to get a beginning charge on my electronic version. As we began our journey, no opportunity presented to compile the notes I would need.

That evening as the activities wound down, I escaped to my room to jot down a few notes. Ten minutes or so should be sufficient to locate the passages I needed. Perhaps my memory was from the KJV Bible, or perhaps my memory was seriously flawed.  I could not locate the verses I craved.  As ladies stopped in to visit, I casually inquired if they knew where to find various scripture, but my search was in vain.  

The morning came and I was forced to open my remarks with an apology for poor preparation. I admitted that no scripture would be quoted verbatim.  I launched into my rather disjointed story and knew that relevant verses should be bookmarking each event.  At the end of my talk I shared the experience of Ol' Abner's transplant.  

Afterward, several told me they had enjoyed my story, and one woman approached me to say her twelve year old daughter had died in a terrible accident four years prior.  She said they had never heard from any of the recipients and my story had given her comfort. A story badly told sometimes has favorable results. I was later introduced to a woman whose husband suffers from the same condition as Ol' Abner.  He is being evaluated for transplant and they are working through the doubts about this course of action. I wish I had prepared better. 

Shop!

Why is the love of shopping considered a female trait?  I'm female and I cannot say I truly love shopping.  Well on Black Friday, I do. It's not so much the "shopping" that I enjoy as opening the gate for Christmas shopping.  I may be the only human stubbornly waiting until the day after Thanksgiving to purchase that first precious gift. That experience has always been more about the excitement of the crowds, the special offers in every store, and the hunt through a temporary obstacle course.  I prefer to shop only when I have a specific need to make a purchase.  In fact, since the new year has begun, I have purchased nothing except groceries. My house would certainly benefit from some reverse shopping i.e. donating huge volumes of "stuff", or a garage sale to sell huge volumes of other "stuff".

At our house, the man is the true shopper!  Ol' Abner has purchased everything from dog treats to tools, shoes and oh yes, a car. His playhouse is delightfully full, so full that the latest car must be stored at son's house until he can do a little rearranging. For that purpose, he just finished assembling his car-moving dolly (after all, it was on sale).  If you doubt a man's love of shopping, just turn on the Barrett-Jackson Auction on television and watch him be instantly mesmerized. I have never enjoyed the Home Shopping Network, but the ultimate version of the same is the multi-day parade across the screen of collector cars.  A friend was able to attend the actual event a couple of years ago. Just hearing him recount his day in the bidding box had my man drooling.

I'm thinking I need to start the hunt for my next cruise.  He's finally agreed to go, so I better get it booked now!  That's shopping I can enjoy.  

A Mystery is Solved

We left the Houston condo just over a month ago.  Ol' Abner made his exit with a loaded pickup as I gathered the last of our belongings and awaited our landlord's visit to retrieve keys.  I had most everything loaded in my car and with only a couple of trips to the dumpsters needed to finish my mission.  She came in and surveyed the items we would leave behind for the next occupants and we had a lovely visit.  One last walk through to be sure I wasn't leaving necessary items, and I was out the door and through the front gate.  It was late that night when I pulled my loaded car into the garage, came inside and promptly crawled in bed.  The next morning, Ol' Abner had unloaded my car and stacked it's contents neatly on a table in the garage, that is the things he hadn't already put away. I was ever so grateful that I didn't have to unload that cargo.  It was a few days later when a certain piece of costume was necessary to complete my look.  I went to the closet in search of my jewelry travel bag. It's where the most of my accessory pieces are stored, and when I could not find it, panic began to build.  Well, perhaps not true panic, but a sick level of concern.  I replayed each step of the load and questioned Ol' Abner extensively about the unloading process.  I called the new occupants of the condo, asked Dancin' Girl to search the room where we sleep when visiting at her house, and finally unloaded all the shelves of my closet, all the travel bags, and boxes with no travel bag found.  I was distraught, Ol' Abner felt guilty and suggested I go buy more jewelry.  I explained that these things can't be found when I'm looking for them.  Costume jewelry just speaks when seen at the the right time and place. Once in a while, when purchasing a new item of clothing, coordinating accessories can be located at the same time.  That's when shopping is really serious and I am not much of a serious shopper. My bag is an ever evolving collection to which I must add and subtract frequently as my wardrobe dictates. 

Dancin' Girl and Guitar Man made a quick trip to the lake this weekend.  They have been unable to come down since we have been back. They brought our mail and checked in with neighbors to keep our homeplace going while we spent the necessary months in the Houston Medical Center.  When a funeral appearred to have sidetracked their plan to come this weekend, they decided a short trip was better than no trip and came anyway.  We gathered the makings for dinner, marinated meat and chopped some veggies to meet them as they arrived.  She has been concerned about a spike in the water bill.  I make a trip over and walked through the house listening to running water.  We stopped by and looked at the water meter to see if it was running with no apparent activity, but still no clue to the mystery water flow.  She texted to let us know they had arrived, and that a mystery had been solved. She told me she would show us when we arrived.  As we walked in she pointed out the shampoo bottle I had left on her counter (over a month ago).  I was horrified that I must have left the shower running or some such stupidity.  I'm not always good at reading clues.

 She sent me into the room where we had slept when we were home before the move with an ailing air conditioner.  We took advantage of a cool place to sleep at their lakehouse and I left for my quilting retreat the next morning.  I suddenly remembered unloading several undergarments AND my jewelry travel bag to lighten the load I was carrying.  I'm relieved to have found it.  Once again, Dancing Girl has resolved a trauma in my life and I have added a few pieces that may become favorites to my collection.

Normal

I am ready for life to be normal again.  Actually I'm sorta wondering what normal might be. This is the new normal we keep hearing.  I don't feel any different.  Ol' Abner says he still feels the same other than it's nice to take a deep breath anytime he wants and life is nice without having to drag around an oxygen tank.  We've surrendered the apartment in the bayou city and are back home permanently.  When he goes for those monthly, bi-monthly or quarterly clinic visits, we'll stay with friends or family and it will feel as much like a social event as a medically necessary trip.  We always love spending time in Houston but this long stay has given us a new appreciation for the hill county.  I love the dry sunny climate here even if we do suffer from drought issues.  A golf game is seldom interrupted by rain and thunder, but the occasional storm is appreciated. Austin area restaurants are superb, entertainment is plentiful and easy to attend. Most important, we have good friends and family here.  Yes, it is good to be home. I will to continue post from time to time on the Caring Bridge site, but I'm really ready to discuss life in the "normal" lane.

Invisible?

This year I will be officially old.  The government says so and if the government says it, it must be so!  I guess we could debate that theory on any given day, but it may be time for me to enjoy the perks of being "officially" old. Earlier in the month I went online and set up my Social Security user id and attempted to apply for my monthly retirement payments to begin the same month as inception of my Medicare benefit.   Instructions were fairly straight forward and questions requiring answers seemed a little invasive.  How does the government know how long I've had that particular credit card or who holds my mortgage??? Answers to those questions had to be correct in order to prove I am who I am.  I worked my way through the nosiness of the site assuming it was for my own good, filled in all the choices in an effort to have my benefits in place on my 65th birthday.  It took just under an hour to muddle through the maize and at the end, it suggested I review the information for accuracy and select "submit" if it was correct and ready to go.  I did, but it did not...GO that is!  The little icon just began to spin when I hit "submit" and continued to spin for several minutes until my screen saver timed it out.  I awakened it to see no sign that the process had completed. For several days I tried unsuccessfully to re-visit my application.  Finally, today I went to the local Social Security office.  

I arrived around ten a.m. and there was a short line at the front door.  Within half an hour I had been given a number and called to one of the cubicles to explain what I needed.  A few keystrokes and the clerk told me to have a seat and I would be called by name shortly.  I asked if my application showed in the system, she said she wouldn't be able to see it if it was there.  OK, I should feel pleased that my information is not available to just anyone. I sat down and waited.  Others were called back and more sat solemnly in chairs around me. After about three hours or so, all chairs had changed occupants except mine.  Time was racing and I did need to be elsewhere by four.  Just after three, I started over to ask the uniformed crowd control officer if i could schedule a firm appointment another day.  Before I reached him a man in a business suit asked if he could help me.  I explained my dilemma and he asked my name and asked me to wait just one moment.  He went through the big door and returned in about 30 seconds waving me forward.  Behind the door, he asked if I could allow about ten minutes to finish the process and apologized for my long wait.  He said it was not acceptable for anyone to be kept waiting more than two hours. The lady who handled my application said my name was nowhere in the que and she didn't know what had happened.  I guess I was wrong to be relieved that I couldn't be seen in the system.  I wonder if I will get an invisible Medicare Card or invisible money...

Rain!

I'm not much of a rainy day lover.  If I have to get out in rain, I tend to shiver and dread. Today, not so much.  I ventured out to the grocery store this morning with my umbrella raised to keep the raindrops off my head.  I purchased a few days supply of nutrition, and of course, a few treats.  As I returned I texted Daughter and she came out to the car to help me unload. Luckily the rain had slowed so we weren't drenched bringing in my purchases.  Yes, the Texas drought has given me a different outlook about water falling from the sky.  It is welcome and celebrated.  Still, my favorite thing to do in rainy weather is curl up with a good book.  I have several loaded on my kindle right now.  One is about two thirds finished and I have a good mystery almost finished. An inspirational insight is coming through as I read a delightful biography.  I think I'll indulge in finishing the mystery from under a blanket.

Unwillingly Awake

I am not one to remain in bed when sleep has left me.  With a 2:30AM clock face staring at me , the best option seemed to be arise (not necessarily shine) for awhile.  A warm cup of herbal tea and a great book will almost always have me ready to nod off within minutes. After re-reading the pages of my latest thriller several times, I realized concentration was beyond me. A game of sudoku quickly stumped me, my tea cup is empty and I've switched to ice water.  Sleep still has not beckoned.  

A few minutes of quiet meditation, perhaps a bit of venting here, and I will again have a clear mind for blissful sleep.  Health issues seldom plague me, but family members suffer constant challenges.  With Pappy here, aging is constantly on my mind.  Ol' Abner fights to accomplish physical labor with the ever present oxygen bottle.  Daughter is dealing with aggressive diagnostic testing to determine the source of some strange symptoms.  Younger grand daughter is limiting some of her skating jumps due to ankle pain of questionable etiology.  A visit with my maker has brought some peace.

Now, if I can just figure out why my golf swing was so off yesterday, I might return to dreamland.

Pigskin

It is officially the end of the "holiday season" and the beginning of a brand new year.  Or maybe it really is the upswing in anticipation of the Super Bowl!  I suppose everyone loves a reason for a Sunday afternoon party with lots of indulgent snacks.  Oh wait, isn't that what we are doing this afternoon.  After weeks of feasting, we brought in the new year right on time.  Earlier in the evening we enjoyed rib-eye steaks with all the side dishes we love.  We watched a Texas A&M team come back to beat Duke in the second half and for once I was pleased with that outcome. After all, our guests had sent two of their offspring to that illustrious institution. We felt obligated to cheer the team into victory since those same children are enjoying the benefits of that stellar education from the Bahamas and the Pacific northwest.  I found it easy to be thrilled for them since my Red Raiders had soundly trounced Arizona State in their bowl game on the previous evening.  Oh yes, the holiday season is over, but football is NOT!  I can smell the ham from here and the blackeyed peas are almost ready.  We must start this year right!

A Wandering Mind

Trivial memories float into my mind at the strangest times.  Today is the 50th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination.  With the news coverage, each story provokes a unique trail of memories for me.  On the front page of the Austin newspaper a story highlighted the impact of the news as it soaked in within the Texas Capitol.  One storyline caught my eye: "The excitement was such that Superintendent Irby Carruth announced that Austin schools would close at 2:30 p.m. so students could see the motorcade". (Austin American-Statesman) The story itself was not remarkable, but the superintendent's name jumped out at me.  

Years after the Dallas tragedy, one of my college roommates came back from a visit to her hometown to announce that her parent's close friend had recently remarried and she had an opportunity to be charmed by the new wife.  Superintendent Irby Carruth was that friend.  The new Mrs. Carruth was none other than my favorite high school English teacher.  Even more exciting, she remembered me! Now there's a happy memory in the midst of all this sadness! 

Wise Words

Bits of wisdom shared by mentors from my youth have stayed with me throughout my life.  I have surpassed the age some of those people lived and aspire to reach the term of life that others reached.  At times I find those same words spouting forth almost involuntarily from my mouth when it seemed my thoughts were private.  Today I think I'll just put some of them out there as they come to me.

• Better to spend your dollars at the grocery store than a doctor's office
• Self-reliant children are the best evidence of good parenting
• If you do not understand the need for government, look at a parking lot covered with snow as cars park
• There is a time and a season for all things, not always recognized until it has passed
• You cannot unscramble an egg
• Any experience is only as important as the memories that thrive from it
• Don't sweat the small stuff, and afterward it's all just small stuff (yes I was told this long before it became a best selling book)
• Somewhere in every family, there is a renegade
• Small children and dogs are the best judges of character at first impression
• Be loyal to your personal convictions and you will never regret your actions
• Value learning or be taught the lessons anyway
• ...to be continued

Home Sweet Home

Gee, August is almost gone and we are fully into the "dog days of summer".  I lost the month of August in the pleasant suburb near Dallas.  My days were filled with driving to and from the ice rink, shopping centers, pharmacy, grocery stores and physician offices for scheduled appointments.  The preschool frenzy is still a fact of life and a recovering surgical patient makes the chaos complete.  The calm of my little house on the lake is like a breath of fresh air.  

Ol' Abner was certainly ready for me to be here.  He's even accompanied me to the grocery store and to the hairdresser to pick up products ordered.  The dog stays close by whenever I sit for any reason.  Maybe my absence was noticed!

What Families Do

I am camped at daughter's house this week and will be here indefinitely.  I am so very thankful that our lifestyle at present allows me this flexibility.  Memories abound of an accident I suffered over thirty years ago.  Ol' Abner called Mammy and Papa in the middle of the night requesting that they come from West Texas to Houston "NOW".  Our children were two and seven at the time and Ol' Abner (not so old then) was in an understandable panic at the thought of dealing with a major ankle fracture requiring surgery for me while caring for two young children.  It was the busy holiday season and he was totally intimidated by the hectic social, shopping, school, and work schedules.  My parents, a few years into retirement then, scrambled out of bed in the middle of the night, gathered together loose change to purchase enough gasoline to make the eight hour drive.  After that dilemma, we convinced them that cash might be the best option, but a credit card for back up might be wise in an emergency.  They were there in the hospital room when I awoke from surgery and stayed until the New Year.  It wasn't the last time they came to help us through a traumatic event, usually the result of a broken bone.  I do so miss my mother, but I am ever grateful to be able to offer some assistance to my daughter's already self-reliant family.

Next Lesson

My golf game is suffering!  You may wonder how a game not yet played can be in distress. PG (Professional Golfer) told me to be able to consistently hit the ball where I want it to go and we will schedule my next lesson.  My plan was to practice the process on the driving range four to five times this week. Every morning has been dedicated to something else and tomorrow will be no different.  Afternoons have reached high ninety or 100 plus degree temperatures.  I just had an epiphany!  Does any golfer EVER reach that point when the ball consistently goes where it's expected.  I hear too many expletives coming from other players to think that is the case...hmm.  Maybe I'll go ahead and call to schedule that next lesson for Tuesday morning.  I work better with a firm deadline. Besides, I can get three in a row straight down the range with a little air under them from time to time.  I'm calling PG tomorrow as soon as Ol' Abner is finished at the hospital!

One Step at a Time

I'm getting ready for a busy weekend.  Daughter and her family are coming tomorrow and leaving early Sunday.  Son and DIL are off on a motorcycle ride and rally with overnight campout.  Their air conditioner has taken a cue from ours and died just as they are planning to leave town.  My golf practice continues, even though I'm not yet allowed to leave the driving range or use any club other than the 7 iron.  Hardtime Man and Rot'n Girl have been a little out of the action as he recovers from surgery on his lip.  It was more involved than expected and he was pretty quiet for a couple of days. Dancing Girl and Guitar Man are still reeling from the knowledge that their middle child and only daughter will be moving to Seattle in a few short weeks.  I have medical testing scheduled for this afternoon and more tests late next week.  My little doc thinks the best way to stay healthy lies in pro-active diagnostics and preventive care.  My little mind finds all this poking and prodding and examining just a bit dramatic, but I'll go along.  Ol' Abner's next exam has been moved up from four months to next week and Daughter is probably facing repeat of one of her knee replacements at the end of next month.  So how does all that make this weekend busy?  Sheets must be washed, we will let the A/C repairman in at Son's house.  Meals will be planned and we do have Hardtime Man's birthday on Wednesday.  The lawn must be mowed and edged and the little mama bird raising her flock on the back porch should be ready to teach them to take wing soon.  Cooking on the grill has been a little dicey lately with the patio inhabitants acting territorial.  Meals for a crowd always come together when the grill is flaming.  If this missive seems rambling and disconnected, it's because my mind is on that same aimless stumble.  Focus! Focus, Daisy Mae! Plant your feet firmly on the ground and move forward with purpose!  OK...I can do this.

What next!

I'm dealing with way too much unfinished business these days.  We are planning to attend Ol' Abners multi-year school reunion this weekend.  Before we go, projects at home must be completed.  Plants will hopefully survive in our absence.  Golf Cart will be ready for delivery sometime next week and the golf pro hasn't yet worked me into the schedule!  Photos from trips are still awaiting sorting and passing along to relevant recipients.  I really need a haircut but hairdresser hasn't returned my call.  I did get a pedicure yesterday, but manicure will have to wait til this evening after I do a little more yard work. Belle did get her bath and toenails clipped yesterday. OK, I'm feeling better.  A few things have been checked off.  Most of the laundry is completed and the floors will be this morning's project.  Now that's a partial list of physical projects, but I must manage to work through the mental issues.

When our children are in upheaval, we always feel the stress.  Health issues always are a concern, and my goofy brain won't turn off. Some belong to me, others to friends.  Worry isn't my forte'.  I tend to give a problem some thought, determine if I can offer a solution, then resort to prayer when all else fails.  I know that's not the way it should happen, but I'm a stubborn sort and tend to give it my best shot first.  We must allow our children to grow and become independent. My mother always believed that the result of good parenting was a self reliant child.  Does self-reliance mean they should be far away?  I don't think so.  Now I have to pray for acceptance!

On a good note, the air conditioner was repaired on the same day as my last whine!

On and On and...

How did I ever find time to work for pay.  My days get away all too quickly with mundane tasks, errands and keeping up with family and friends.  A smaller home hasn't really lessened the time required for up keep...in fact, lack of storage complicates many activities.

As I work on final plans for several upcoming trips, Ol' Abner is continuing to deal with health maintenance projects.  Today he had to go in for several tests, none pleasant. My plan was to accompany him and we would do some shopping along the way.  Oxygen delivery is today and someone must be home for that critical arrival.  I need to make a run to the bank and get some fresh produce, but it will have to be worked around the bottles of oxygen for restocking the garage rack.

We did pick out some granite yesterday.  We found a slab of one we both loved and they seemed to have plenty for our needs.  Now it's up to the installer to pick it up and cut to fit.  I picked out a new sink to fit underneath.  It would be nice to have an apron style sink, but that's a whole different battle.  Some things are just better when settled.

Grandchildren's and son's birthdays will be celebrated early, because everyone's schedule is crazy these days.  Friends from Tuscon bypassed us and went straight to the mountain.  Do we really sound that crazy?  Other friends will be here from time to time as they attempt to get a second home purchased in our little town.  In the meantime, the manly garage should begin taking shape in the next couple of weeks...or perhaps, months.  I am anxious to plan some landscaping, but for now I'll be silent on that issue.  My compost bin hasn't finished making new dirt anyway.

Bloom! NOT

I am tired.  Time to relax and refresh.  I might just sit in my back yard all day.  A sense of unrest keeps  gurgling to the surface.  Seeing daffodils peeking through the dirt and even popping into bloom in some places makes me sad that I planted no bulbs last fall.  In fact, not a single posie has been deposited into the earth in my new yard.  This is an abomination to my psyche.  Flower beds cannot be planned until that *!?*!!!%*%* building (or garage or shop or manly playhouse or whatever it will be) has been completed.  The lot is cleared of excess trees. Rocks have been unearthed and piled on the corner.  Stakes are inserted with twine stretched to connect the dots.  Now we await the blessing of city hall on the engineered slab design.   My vision for the final look of the back part of the yard seems to have been discarded.  I'm thinking I won't mention it again.  Function is more important than aesthetics, apparently.  I won't think about this today.  Maybe I better stay out of the back yard!

A Beautiful Life

Pat and Cherry

My only first cousins on the paternal side of the family.

Laughter, tears, smiles and hugs filled this week.  A call Saturday afternoon pulled my heartstrings in an unexpected sudden urge to review my childhood.  The photo above was taken a few years before my birth.  Cherry was ten years my senior and Pat was ten years older than my sister.  We were the four granddaughters of Gordon and Nan.  After losing Pat just a few days shy of four years ago, the news that Cherry was in her last hours of life brought my own early years bubbling to the surface.

The two cousins were teen-age girls in my early memories.  Pat was always so "cool and glamorous". Cherry still enjoyed "little girl" toys and was challenged by my first grade study tools.  My mother explained that she was "mentally retarded" and would probably never learn beyond an eight or nine year  capability.  Little did we know how she would expand those capabilities.  Yes, she remained childlike in so many ways, but she led a full and productive life thanks to the plan put in place by her diligent, protective and thoughtful mother.  That plan was followed by Pat after loss of their parents. Pat's older daughter stepped in to protect and enable Cherry's continued success when we lost Pat.

As I went away to college, Cherry was embarking on her own life away from home.  She moved into a "dormitory" where social activities were coordinated with a supervised work environment.  We discovered Cherry's aptitude for detailed shape recognition and sorting translated into a skill for earning wages.  Contracts were acquired for her group to earn a portion of their living expenses and develop money handling.  She loved her work and felt a strong sense of responsibility.  For years she had made potholders on a loom for all family and friends.  I still have two of the six she made as a wedding gift for me.  There will be no more.

Cherry had a stroke and died a few hours later. She had lived her final years in her own home with twenty-four hour care-givers under the guardianship of her niece.  I had never visited her there, but felt her presence when Karen and I went to the house to clear her personal belongings.  It gives me peace to know that she lived a life, not of limitations, but of limitless talent!

It's a Clear Day...I think

I have to wonder if my mind is regressing or progressing.  Things that bothered me terribly at one time no longer have much impact.  There was a time when derogatory comments from others would bring on serious introspection.  No more do I even give it a second thought. In fact, I'm not sure what comment brought that thought to the surface.  Clearly, it did not have the desired effect.

My housekeeping style has never been overly immaculate.  In earlier years, I panicked at the arrival of an unexpected visitor if my house was in flux.  My theory today, a welcome guest doesn't arrive to inspect my house, but to see the people within.  If that's not the case, that guest probably isn't  welcome regardless of the tidiness of the homeplace.  I clear the piles of projects in progress and stacks of unattended mail before a planned event, but frequent visitors don't even seem notice their presence.  Have I regressed into clutter?

My multi-tasking ability has stymied many.  I may appear to be procrastinating to some because I do not focus on a project until action is necessary.  Planning, making lists, discussing, accumulating data and repeating the process two or three times holds little satisfaction for me.  Long ago I discovered plans frequently change several times within the scope of dream to commitment to completion.  Seems like a waste of time that could be better spent with more urgent activity.  Colleagues have been known to bring in an army of helpers when I failed to display tangible evidence of commitment to the dream.  It took several years before I learned to tactfully explain that matters were well under control.  Even Ol' Abner has learned not to mention it, but move out of my way when the time comes for action.  I guess that could be called progress.

Today I am much more cognizant of how I feel about circumstances than what I think others may perceive.  I know what I like and what I want. No one can make it happen better than me!