Confession

Bug and I were watching brain games on TV last night.  Something was brought up about lying to yourself.  This is something I have a lot of knowledge and expertise in.  I have said that I walk around life with a bucket of sand to stick my head in.  If that is not someone willing to lie to themselves, I don't know.  It was around 9pm, my preference time to be in bed asleep.  I was tired like I always am at the end of the day.  Nothing special.  No desperate pain or mood, just normal me.  Bug usually stays up until 10 or so, but sometimes he is tired and lays down the same time I do. 

What could be nicer then climbing into a big comfortable bed, warm and snugly.  Feather pillows and a down comforter with flannel sheets and who needs a heater?  Then to curl up in my sweetie's arms and fall asleep.  Heaven.  I mean, like baby laughter heaven.  Sweet, simple and perfect. 
But.

But.
I have anxiety issues when I go to sleep.  I realized last night as Bug crawled in beside me and cuddled up close that I wait too long to take my anxiety pills.  I wake up within 15 minutes to an hour after I lay down.  I bolt straight up out of bed, quivering with the anxious energy.  I want to claw my skin off, because it is in the way.  I know that will not help, clawing my skin.  But I must have enough adrenaline running through me to power a continent.  My mind is not focused on anything but the anxiety.  When I am in the bed alone, I just do breathing techniques and maybe a few yoga poses to move the energy out, to still and quiet my mind so that it can do it's thing with my body.  But when Bug is lying next to me, it makes it worse.  He worries about me, just like I do him.  So I understand.  He was confused and asked me what had he done to make me so angry.  I did not yell or scream or cry, but I was able to let him know it was not him, it was me.  No, I simply said I was having an anxiety attack and stormed out of the bedroom.  I had not started a book after closing the Santa book by Baum, on my way out the door I grabbed a Barbara Kingsolver novel, Prodigal Summer.  I own several of Ms Kingsolver's novels.  Most of my friends have read several of her books and were in awe that I was not familiar with her.  I can't remember many names of authors, titles or actually much of the plot, but that is a poem by Billy Collins (and you would laugh if you saw how long it took me to come up with Billy Collins!)  One of my dearest friends had admitted a few months back that she didn't enjoy all of Ms Kingsolver's works, and in a sort of Kathleen way, that made me open that particular book last night.  I needed to read something soothing. By someone who isn't perfect. It is not the topic but the writing I am looking for.  I guess that is why I love the authors of the early 1900s and their "lilting verse". 

I opened the book and touched the pages, I always do this before I start reading a book I know I will love.  Feel the paper, feel the spine and how far will it bend without damaging.  I read through each page, printing information, date printed, dedication, etc.  I brush through the acknowledgements to determine if they are a thank you note or a surprise gift of more stories.  I only read 6 pages last night.  I was still wired and anxious, but that initial flood of adrenaline was gone and I could now try meditation and stretching.  I slipped quietly back into the dark of the bedroom.  I snuggled into the sheets and was met with Bug's regular gentle breath of slumber.  I realized then what had happened.  I had been caught.

I have been slipping in to bed earlier and earlier trying to get there and unwind before he found me in this state.  A state I admitted to myself over and over again last night that is happening more and I am simply hiding it. 

I know that is crazy.  Have I mentioned I am on two crazy meds?

I had several epiphanies last night.  First, I am not suffering from depression.  Insanity?  Possibly, but I am now more positive then I have ever been that I do not suffer from depression.  I have friends who do suffer, and there is no word better that describes what they must feel.  I realized this because I can still paste a smile on my face and go out in public and ask inane questions.  Those with depression are not capable of that.  They are not capable of just shaking it off and get on with things.  The jail they live in must just keep growing thicker and thicker around them as they try to deal with this world.  Yes, some people can truly be helped and maybe even cured.  They can cure some cancers, why not depression.  But they can not cure all cancers.  Not all depressions can be cured.  Maybe like me they can give them certain drugs that help them get through life, but really?  I can take a pain pill and pull on my boots and get out to work.  Anxiety?  Oh yeah, I have that, but depression and anxiety are not the same.  I think that it is very possible that some people with depression may also suffer from anxiety.  I can't imagine how living with depression you would not at least have anxiety be a side effect.  So if the doctor gives you a little pill that helps control the anxiety but is not able to solve the depression would that just make you more depressed?  I don't know.  But after last night and realizing that maybe, just maybe if I took my anxiety pill, for example, an hour before I want  to bed would I then be able to go to sleep with out dealing with the anxiety?  Might be a simple enough solution.  Take that one pill earlier and then take the others at bedtime like normal.  When you are overwhelmed by anxiety thinking of something this simple just doesn't happen.  So I was happy for both of those epiphanies, I do not have depression and maybe I could fix my anxiety by taking the pill earlier and act like a normal person when I go to bed.  I might even sleep better.  That would be a gift.

I couldn't wait for Bug to wake this morning so I could explain what had happened.  I cried as I told him that I had been hiding this from him, this bedtime anxiety.  I cried as I told him that every morning I used to wake up with a smile on my face my arms wide open for the gift of another day.  All my life I have woke like this.  Now I wake up feeling like a failure.  Will I once again screw up the meds and make myself sick, or will I try and just get by without them and suffer not so silently, I am sure.  That is anxiety, I am sure, not depression,  Once I get up and realize I can handle my body for another day then I spend the entire day worrying about meds.  It would be so simple if I could just take a magic pill every few hours or maybe just twice a day and lead a limited but happy life.  It would be simpler if all this just went away, or if I could hit the pause button and get my feet back under me, catch my breath so to speak.  pun intended. 

But that is not the challenges I am faced.  Is my pain worse then other people?  I don't know, I don't think so.  I told Bug that here I am a child of the peace, love, drugs and rock and roll generation.  My generation had every kind of drug available to them.  Valium, or "Mother's little Helper" was given out like candy.  I however did not get involved in that world.  Now look at me.  I am 58 years old and struggling with meds.  If I had just taken the opportunity back in my youth to have found the pleasures of drugs then, maybe it wouldn't be so hard now.  Would I have been as healthy to live through this challenge if I had messed my body up any worse back then.  I don't know.  Just look on the TV and you see a lot of other people who also lived through that generation and are still kicking butt.  Look at the Rolling Stones.  Okay, they are not "pretty", but they look great for the lives they lived and are still kicking up their heals.  Too late now.  I guess I will just have to figure this out somehow.

I also realized that I have to quit hiding.  It is okay to not feel good.  It is okay to be anxious and to take your meds and get better.  To take the pain meds and have less pain.  I know all of that.  I guess I am still bad about not wanting to disappoint people.  I have pretty much lived my life full of love and adventure, but always a monitoring eye out to make sure that I did not disappoint my family, my friends, my pets, my plants.  Yep, anything I am "responsible" for I can disappoint.  Don't water the plants, they die, pretty disappointing from the plants point of view, don't you think?  And so I hide things that people will be disappointed about me.  Mostly unaware that I do it.  I guess that is obvious. 

So many people think I am going to get over this and be well and healthy again and live forever like them.  Crazy, but the need to rebel against that illusion I think is mostly based on knowing that I am going to disappoint them. 

Crazy?  Okay, but at least I have figured some of this out last night.  People constantly telling me to be fine is just like opening a giant bottle of guilt on me.  I know that they mean exactly the opposite.  They love me and want me to be okay.  I just want to be me.  Who and what I am.  Someone struggling with life and death issues unique to me.  Everyone is living their life in their universe and why I just don't smile and ignore the shifting of planets when our universes bump into each other and thank them for their thoughts and prayers.

Yes, I do know, it is because I hear "You are going to disappoint me if you do not prove to me that we all live forever."  Instead of "We love you"

It sort of feels like I am walking up a steep hill carrying two buckets of water.  They are heavy and I hurt and people telling me I am fine is like walking by and leaving me to my buckets alone.  You will be fine.

I am fine.
well, okay, that is debatable.  But constantly hearing, "you are going to be fine "is the worst.  But it is probably hard for them too.  They say with such certainty, "YOU will be FINE" like they believe it.  Maybe they really don't believe it, and when my fur goes up, it just makes them want to believe it all the more. 

Okay, so I said I was not going to fight this thing, instead I was going to try and be the best I could be.  I have disappointed myself on a regular basis about this.  Especially the disappointment thing.  So, I will try and remember the next time I am trying to have a conversation and I bring up my life as an explanation to something and they interrupt me with the, "you are going to be fine" to just shut up.  Shut my mouth.  I am going to disappoint them anyway, so why try and prepare them.  This is one of those causality loops in Star Trek.  You can't win, you just have to figure how to get by.  Where is Picard when you need him!

Wouldn't it be nice if I actually used some of this knowledge in my real world instead of just writing about it.  Okay, I am trying to, and I am not perfect, so I don't want to get all wrapped up in another disappointment issues.  Just do my best.  Easy to say.  After wandering around more then long enough in my fog of anxiety and chemo brain.  That is why I think looking at my PTscan would be good.  Truth is my placebo.  The world is brighter and easier this morning after my confession to Bug.  Partly because the front has moved east and the sun is shining.  Part is because I no longer fear about depression.  No, now I can maybe deal better with what I do have.  I wish that somehow it could be easier for people with depression.  That they could just wake after a terrible night of anxiety and fitful sleep and go, "Wow! I feel better!" 
They can't
I can because I just have to realize that trying to avoid making a mistake on my pain meds is not working.  The darkness and hopelessness was, for me, thankfully chemically made.  Some of my brain chemicals and some of the ones I take, along with the stress of the cancer on my body can do that.  But people with true depression, I don't know how they do it.
Blessed be is all I can wish for you.

Once Bug and I had talked and I had confessed enough of my sin to him to cry them away and forgive myself, I wanted to write.  I opened the computer and something someone had posted on FB had a link to a cancer FB page called the "It ain't Chemo Warriors".  I hit the link and looked at it.  It looks like a wonderful page for those still with the hope of beating cancer.  For those who chose to fight their cancer, this is a great place to go and be part of those like minded.  I saw another link to Choose Hope.  It is a site where you can buy cancer wear.  Yep, their is a line of clothing, jewelry and accessories for those who have cancer.  I bought Bug a "cancer sucks" hat.  I bought myself a shirt that says, "I have CHEMO BRAIN what's your excuse?"  I am not sure I will wear it on my own initiative.  But I thought it might help Bug when we go out.  I am pretty crazy now, but I fear of a time where my brain is completely gone and I wander off somewhere and give him a heart attack or something.  He can simply put me in that shirt, it is bright pink and then it should be easier to find me. 

Yesterday, Bug and I met our realtor Barry and our contractor, Robby and his wife to throw out ideas about a house we want.  It is in a different neighborhood, has more acreage and (cue the angel's) a house.

The house is one of the ugliest on the road.  There is another barn house out in this part of town, but it is not nearly as ugly as ours.  But, if things should work out and this house should really become ours, I assure you it will not be ugly long.  I don't care if it takes to my dying breath, I would build my garden. 

No, not the garden I have dreamed of here at Labrun.  This property is 8+ acres, most of it still hardwood.  A creek and a pond round off the treasures.  The pond would appear to be spring fed by the color and the amount of water in it.  Now, that is a garden.  Yes, I would want to add in some of my favorite flora and fauna, but that would depend on what is there now.  I see the crepe's and magnolia.  I see the landscaping, but have no idea what else might be sleeping below.  What joy to have a piece of land where there are surprises waiting.  I still feel like that here at my little trailer.  And I do love it here.  I love our yard and the plants that have worked with me to survive through all of this with me.  But to have a place that is already a garden.  That would be wonderful.  Not that I will not make gardens.  I have always stacked rocks, planted seed and sang songs.  That is just who I am.

We are waiting to hear back from the contractor concerning the cost and work that would have to be done.  Is this our place?  Maybe, it is one of the few places we have both walked up to and wanted to go further.  Each time we start to rethink the place, we simply stand in front of the house and the property soothes us.  It speaks to both Bug and I in our own languages.  Mine one of trees and plant names, bird and insects I have studied my whole life.  I think his language comes more with the music of a John Deere Tractor.  He bought it last week and hopes to get it after he and Dad get back from CA.  There are things he can do with it here, like fix the road, clear the area for my garden.  But there, there is bush hogging, clearing, digging, scraping, chugging.  Yes, this is property that he could enjoy with his tractor.  Two different languages, but we make it work somehow.

I am still not accomplishing the everyday things I would like to get done.  I do not have my meds worked out, or the pain, or the nausea, but the sun has cleared, and I get to stand in it.  I can put my face to the sun and feel the warmth of it's distant heat and the cool of the front passing through.  There will be more gray and clouds and rain, but like the small bruise on my back, everything will be just fine. 
I Just need to deal with what is wrong with me
I am so lucky. 
I can walk into the bathroom and take a pain pill
and if necessary an anxiety pill and I will feel better.

It is only transient
but life is transient
It might make me sick to my stomach
It might not
You know, that is a good idea
I will close for now and go take a pill


I was just proofing this blog.  Yes, I do proof, hard to believe isn't it? 

Anyway,
NEWS FLASH!!!!!!

ALERT
ALERT
Bug just called me.  The bank has accepted our offer.  We did not have to go up at all.  We can afford the house. 
My garden
I think I am over the moon happy
I think I better go take an anxiety pill
YIKES

what have we gotten ourselves into now?

A warm Sunday morning

I woke up this morning with my head spinning.  Stories that I had written in high school.  Stories I had written over the past year trying to get something together and self published.  The little rainbow, Wicked Chickens coloring books and The lullaby still in mind, but all the words so carefully crafted into stories, now lost on the written page.  I have had to rewrite some of the stories over the years.  I can rewrite them again.  I need to write them again.  They are visiting me in my sleep.  The stories, the words, the pictures fill my dreams and are bright in my eyes when I woke this morning. 

I think it was from going to see the Smithsonian Exhibit at the Jefferson Art Center last night.  It has been the talk for weeks.  Our little community.  A community of about 14K people nestled in the keystone of Florida.  No red/yellow/green traffic lights, no Wally World.  But we have a travelling exhibit from the Smithsonian, the one in Washington DC.  It is a beautiful exhibit that takes up most of our art center.  It crowds our front gallery and winds back the hall.  Filled with photos and interactive activities, press a button and hear the stories.  It is about transportation and how America was built.  Fascinating and at the opening last night Bug and I crowded in to the center with our fellow Jeffersonians and bragged how our small town could have such a wonder.

Thanks to Monticello Main Street.  A year or so back Main Street, led by our Director, Anne Holt, obtained a $10,000 grant to bring this exhibit to our fair town.  Every turn I saw people I love.  Jane, our garden circle chairperson sat at the door welcoming everyone.  Jane is the President of the Board of our Art Center. 

I was pretty useless for most of last week.  I simply do not do well when it is cold.  And it has been cold for us.  Thursday the weather had ventured north of 60 and compared to the previous few days it was lovely.  I put on a bra.  Something that I have never enjoyed wearing, but now with trying to get my pain under control, bras have become even more uncomfortable as they bind around me, pressure all the way around my chest area, or as I confessed today, thorax.  But I put one on, slipped my mint green cashmere 3/4 sleeve sweater and drove just north of town and turned east on Boston Highway.  This beautiful canopied two lane road slips thru Florida into Georgia into an even smaller town then Monticello, Boston.  Boston, Georgia is the smallest town in the United States with a Carnegie library.  It is a lovely yellow brick two story building with huge stairs leading up to the books.  Just like the one we had were I was growing up.

I had a lovely ride as I drove to one of the beautiful large brick homes that speak of a time gone in most worlds, not ours.  The brick house stood stately tall under the pines, oaks and magnolias, away from the road.  The shutters were painted a blue that made the whole design of the home and the garden that wishes are made.  Inside it was glorious.  Reds, golds, yellows, woven in ways that spoke of light and grace and taste into this tapestry of Southern hospitality.  The ladies were lovely and funny and all different from each other, yet they have a connection from years of sharing moments just like this winter today.  They are so very different then my garden circle, but their connection is the same kind our circle shares.  They were so gracious and we had a lovely luncheon in the dining room.  The table elbow to elbow ladies, was covered with layers of linen cloths and napkins.  The winter light slanted through the oak trees and in through the floor to ceiling bay windows.  I had one of those moments where I was there and my mind kept blurring between that moment and one as a child in Palmetto at the crab luncheon at the woman's club.  The hair and clothes, classic on the women from each time, beauty, grace and Southerness.  I can not think of the word that describes a Southern lady.  They are correct, kind and gracious, audacious, funny, stylish, good friends and neighbors.  A Southern lady gives back to her community.  The garden club, the historical society, the art center, the Opera House, the woman's club, downtown, main street, the humane society, your church and of course, the civic organizations and the chamber are the choices Southern ladies pick from to give back.  I have never met a true Southern woman who did not head up several if not all of these during a life time.  It was a beautiful moment filled with all the things my mother shared with me.  After the perfect luncheon of delicious soup, finger sandwiches a choice of chocolates, lemon bars and other lovely sweet delicacies, we gathered in the drawing room with the living room directly behind and the transition of color, fabric and treasures caught my breath.  I took a seat by the window and listened as the Founder's Club garden circle held their meeting.  I was still in the glow of the moment and again the similarity of other moments just like this one flooded through me.  Then it was my turn.  I had already bored a couch of these gracious ladies before lunch talking pesticide labeling.  Really?  pesticide labeling?  I don't even like to talk about that.  I guess I was just trying to jump start my brain.  I had 20 pages of notes on dragonflies, fireflies, cicadas, and katydids.  I picked these as the easiest garden friendly insects.  I realize that cicadas and katydid do cause garden damage, but I left them for last hoping to drag out enough information about dragonflies and fireflies.  I just started out throwing out facts about dragonflies and watched the reactions of the group.  I would throw in information that an Entomologist would enjoying hearing, but a normal gardener?  I don't like to talk down to people.  After realizing how much my brain does not work well, and that I don't think my IQ is any bigger then my shoe size, I have no write to talk down to anyone.  And yes, these ladies enjoyed the fun and the factual.  They were not intimidated by the scientific information.  They laughed and listened, and then they asked questions and it turned from a talk to a discussion and I had so much fun.  I had seen many of these ladies at the Opera House and the art center and so on, but now they were getting to know me a little bit.  And by that they opened up about themselves and so last night as Bug and I walked around the Smithsonian exhibit last night, I saw many of these same ladies and their husbands again.  Suzanne had not been able to make the meeting and told me how much she missed the presentation.  I told her I had my 20 pages of notes in my purse.  She asked if she could read them.  I laughed and said okay and handed over the manuscript.

I really enjoyed getting that opportunity.  I do not allow myself that many opportunities these days when it comes to people relying on me.  Today is the camellia garden circle meeting at Gelling's Florist.  I am going to run up to the WD and pick up some eggs to make a quiche.  I am going to look up simple things to do for February crafts because I have to commit today whether I can still do this.  An opportunity.  Will I take it?  At this moment, I am filled with hope.

I have been flu sick for several days this past week.  Every week or two I feel like this.  It is the pain meds.  I am getting better at managing the pain and the meds.  Maybe, maybe better.  It doesn't feel like I am getting better as I am on my knees in the bathroom.  I think I am doing that less.  Yes, after last weeks episode, I gave myself as long as I could take it and did not even look at any pain meds for more then a day.  I don't think I was too unbearable to get along with.  I pretty much just hid at home and kept my mouth shut.  Since then I have taken the same med, the heavy duty one each morning and one each bedtime.  The pain is better.  All in all I can handle this.  I will give myself at least until after the next cold snap that is predicted mid week and down to the 20s.  Have I ever mentioned how much I dislike the cold?

Bug's parents are adjusting in.  Every other day they make comments about moving back to CA.  They still own their place out there.  But usually by the end of the day, they are happy in their lovely little home. It has been gray and cold since they have been here.  For the last few days a fat gray wet cloud the color of dryer lint and almost as thick has sat on the ground here chilling us to the bone, even after it warmed up.  I think they will be very happy here, once I can get Mom out of the house and into town.  I will take her to the Rosemary Tree for lunch.  She loves their food, but mostly she loves the precious ladies who work there.  We will go over on a Wednesday and look at the Smithsonian exhibit.  I am scheduled to work there in 2 weeks on a Wed.  Just a few hours in the morning.  An opportunity I am giving myself. 

On the 25th Carolyn and I are taking Mom to see Cabaret at the Monticello Opera House.  I understand that several of us from the Stage company will be meeting to enjoy the show.  I am looking forward to her getting out and maybe making friends.  At the art center last night I saw my friend Penny, a wonderful artist, and it turns out she just lives around the corner from Mom and Dad.  Penny's mom is staying with her.  We suggested that maybe we should get the two ladies together.  Did they have anything in common.  Honestly, we really don't know what Mom enjoys other then maybe shopping.  Penny said something about her Mother not getting out as much because she is in so much pain.  The shock on her face was priceless as Bug and I in unison said, "That's great!  Mom is in pain, they can talk about their pain together."  Penny's eyes glowed with a mischievous spark and I apologized for how we must have sounded, we just really want these two people to be happy here.  They live in a lovely neighborhood filled with precious families and lovely homes.  Once they are freed from winter's dreary gray I think all will be fine.

In the meantime we are doing the best we can.  I have not taken a pain pill yet today.  There is a little nagging in my thorax, time to spin the wheel of drugs and determine what kind of pain, stress and happiness await this day. 

Happy Birthday Zore Neale

Today would have been Zora Neale Hurston's 123rd birthday.  I am a fan of Ms Hurston's one of Florida, the US and the world's most wonderful writers.  Okay, she was not born in Florida, but in Alabama.  However, her family moved to Eatonville, Florida when she was one.  She died forgotten and buried in an unmarked grave in Fort Pierce.  Thankfully, she is remembered today.

But I must confess I did not remember her birthday, I read it on Google this morning.  That made me so very happy. I admit not having read all of her books.  But all of those that I have read I loved.  My favorite one is Moses, Man of a Mountain.  It is a retelling of the bible story of Moses as told from the eyes of a slave. 

I am just finishing L. Frank Baum's Santa story.  It was written in 1902 and republished in 1983 and again in 2005.  It was in 1983 that it was listed as one of the three first most important stories about Santa.  I love how some people put awards on such things.  I love their intense righteousness over their bequeathing titles of the most important literature.  Their love, their reasons, their facts and I have to say in this case, I agree.  It is simple and lovely.  A perfect Christmas story answering children's questions about reindeer and delivering presents to so many in such a short time.  Even an explanation of the jolly ole man's name.  That was a story written by a man for his children.  Lovely little stories to bring happiness to children.  Zora's books couldn't be more different in every way, except they both wrote in English.  But even then the voice of those languages are as different as the authors and the times they lived.

Most people are more familiar with Ms Hurston's novel Their Eyes were watching god, published in 1937.  A telling of the story of the great Okeechobee hurricane of the 1920s.  It is on the list of the 100 greatest novels of the 20th century.  She is also known as a folklorist and anthropologist who wrote some of the definitive works on zombie's in the Caribbean.  Okay, am I a bit in awe of this woman?  Oh yeah!!!  and proud to be.

My mother had been in a car accident when I was 4 and she had many physical problems for a while that prevented her from being able to take care of four kids.  My grandmother hired an African woman that my father knew.  I believe he might have worked with her late husband at the US Post Office.  Millie raised us up and kept the house running and clean.  She provided us hot meals at night and our clothes were clean, clean sheets on our bed.  But she taught us how to be good people.  She taught us the rules of society as she knew them.  This was an insight my other girlfriends did not have.  I am sure that the maids, as we called them loved them and took care of them, but Millie was our mother while our mother was unable to give us the care we needed at that age.  I knew she had seven children, all of whom went to college.  She was a single mother.  She had married a good man.  That is all I know about him.  I don't know any of her children's names, other than their last name, Brown.  Millie Brown.  And through her eyes I saw that white children and black children might be the same, but society did not see children, they saw black and white.  That there were rules of society.  She survived more then I could ever begin to imagine.  She was loving and gracious and along with my mother they taught me how to be a little Southern girl.  I did not do well in that role, but I respected these older women's view of the world.  I had no idea that life would disappear before I had finished elementary school.  I had no idea how unfair the world I was being raised.  I had no idea in my little world that we did not have much money, but we had all we needed. 

I have no idea how Millie was able to raise her own children at the same time she raised us.  I have no idea how on the salary she made as a maid or laundress or care taker to white people she was able to raise seven children on her own and that those children would all get a college education.  I guess that I put all of those young childhood memories into Zora Neale.  She had a different life, but at the end of her life in the late 50s she was broke, ill and worked as a maid, librarian and substitute teacher.  She ended up in a welfare hospital.  Her life was filled with challenges I would never be able to imagine.  Millie wasn't famous, but she led her life with grace and respect.  Now her great grandson is my nephew, Nathaniel's best friend, Desmond.  He is our other nephew, and we love him like we were taught by his great grandmother.  Happy Birthday Ms Hurston.  And here is to you Ms Millie.  I still think of you often, and very fondly.

Bug's parents are moving into their home today.  They have packed up everything and headed out in weather I would normally never leave the house in.  They will be working on the garage today.  Their new bed will be delivered today.  They should get gas for their hot water heater tomorrow.  They plan to sleep in their home tonight.  It is still cold.  I wish they would rethink staying in a house where the heater to their bedroom won't work until the propane is filled, and no hot water.  Have I mentioned how cold it is?

It will be nice to snuggle down with my honey and our "kids" in our home, just the two of us.  But Bug's parents have been pleasant house guests, and welcome anytime.  I know that the dogs and Stella will miss their grandparents.

Today, I will work in the house and if luck allows I will not leave the inside of my warm comfy place.  It will not see 60 today, let alone 70.  I have been known to go out against my better judgment, like yesterday, but my sweet honey has made it very clear that he supports my wishes to stay inside and nipped any requests concerning me and the outside in the bud.

There is something I want to remember to write, but I can't remember it whenever the computer is open to write.  I have closed the computer, walked away and nothing.  I have nothing here, so I will close for now, and hopefully I will remember or completely forget what ever it is I can't remember now.

This is just wrong

It is cold.  Everywhere it seems, it is cold.  I don't mean normal I don't like the cold.  I mean real cold.  They say it should get down into the 20s.  They said it might actually get into the teens last night.  It did not get into the teens last night, so what does that mean for tonight?  I don't know, except it is cold and it will get colder.

Hey!  Everyone is complaining about the cold, but I don't complain about the heat, I should be able to whine a little with the cold.  Especially when it is this cold.  So, there you go, I have whined.  It is still cold, and I don't feel any better. 
 What would make me feel better?
No cold
Have I ever mentioned I don't like the cold?

It is against my nature and better judgment, but Bug and I left the house today and drove to Thomasville.........Georgia..............north of here............in the cold.

Bug's parents got here on Friday.  To be more accurate, they moved here on Friday.  We had spent the days leading up to them getting here working on our house and their house.  We took them right over to see their new home, and they seem to be very happy.  It is a lovely house.

Life has been full and busy now that they have gotten here.  Just turning on water, gas, power, garbage, seems never ending.  Then they have to change everything from their old place to here.  So much to do.

Life is just putting along here.  Nothing new and yet it seems like everything about life in the last few days has changed.  We took them to Thomasville bedding and they picked out their new bed.  We also introduced them to the Farmer's Market Buffet.  Then we swooped in and out of goodwill and Bug and I left them at Lowe's and had pointed them in the right direction for Wally World.  I mean, everyone moving someplace new needs a few basic. 

Tonight is the College Championship Bowl, at the Rose Bowl.  This Gator's heart is broken, but still rooting for FSU.  Sorry Auburn, go Noles

I am going to have to wash my mouth out with soap after this game, but there will be supportive noises coming off my tongue that will need to be removed as soon after the game as possible.


 

Hoppin John

It is the last day of 2013.  A gray chilly day, almost like it is mourning over the ending of the year.  A year that has been filled with challenges for so many people. 

My year?  Wow, this year has been filled with events I would never have guessed could happen to me. 

Bug proposed
I accepted
Vicki asked us if we did?
We both readily agreed
Then we were husband and wife
best friends
happy, happy, happy

We travelled
Met each other's friends
fell in love with these new friends,
on both sides

We buried Daddy
We helped his parents buy a house near us here in Monticello
My big brother and I have become even closer
I have gotten to spend so wonderful moments with my baby brother and our family
Christopher is a teenager
Nathaniel is a senior in high school
Jessica was 9 and in a few days she will be 10

When I married Bug
I also got 2 great parents
A daughter and almost son in law
Three grandsons
One grand daughter
A son and girlfriend

Cousins and Aunt, Uncles
Two new brothers
and a partridge in a pear tree
Okay, not that last one, it just seemed right considering the time of year and all

We will stop by and visit with Mr and Mrs Moon this afternoon
I used to see Ms Moon every week
But then I lost my mind and my anxieties took over my world
and the ability to talk on the phone or stop by and visiting people
Ms Moon would have understood me
She probably would have even know what to say to make me laugh and feel better
but I couldn't do it to her
or to anyone
so I shut myself away from the world
Hid behind my Bug

I am better
not consistent, but better
It is just I am so very happy in my life
But I have to manage the situations I put myself in and if I can not be sure that I will not break down crying or say mean or crazy things.
I have the best friends in the entire world
Everyone of them would be more then happy to do whatever they could for me
I have not wanted to take advantage
and now I am so far out it is even harder to try and come back into a life with friends again

But
Jan. 4 is the very best most special New Year's Party there is. 
The invite came yesterday and I was so thrilled.  It is a Christmas tree burning
reminiscent of the bon fires roaring on the hillsides in the UK and I am sure else where in the world
Fire and a new year just seem to go together
and dear special friends

The black eye peas are bubbling on the stove
I soaked them last night, which is my preference.  They are a bean that really doesn't need to be soaked, but it is part of the ritual of new year's eve.
Now they are getting thick as the water cooks down.  Bug helped me to chop the onions, carrots and celery for the pot.  This evening I will make the rice, cornbread and cook the turkey sausage for my hoppin John. 

Tonight we will each eat a big bowl of the new year's eve delicacy. 
Each bite we will make that happy face of rich savory beans and meat over rice and a piece of corn bread stuck to the side of our mouths.  We will scrape the bowl down and then Bug will remark, "Wait until it sits all night.  It is going to be even better tomorrow."

Which is why I love to soak and then cook my black eye peas on new year's eve instead of new years day.  I also like the transition from one year to another by cooking and eating what is often referred to as Southern Caviar between the last and new year.  It is a feeling of plenty for me to carry over such a basic food, and one of my favorites.  This year I will be cooking spinach instead of collard or mustard.  Just changing things up a little.  Life throws challenges and I try to change and flow with them

The pain is getting to where it is almost a back ground noise again.  Yes, there are moments where it grabs the spotlight and comes down stage right into all of my attention, but I think I am starting to relax into this world of medication and just not feeling so lost is helping to separate the pain from just the background.  After all, I don't just have stage 4 c, but I am also growing older each day.  So some of these pains may also be just getting old.

I think one thing that would help me with my pain management is to see the next PT scan.  I want to see where the cancer actually is so pains elsewhere can be dealt with for what they are, not what I fear they could be. 

I have a small bruise on my lower back, right on my back bone and it is swollen.  I don't have one clear memory of where it came from, but with 3 labs and unstable feet, the possibilities are infinite.
I have had it over two weeks now
But once you have had cancer, anything like this makes me take notice to make sure it is not something else.
I don't even want to say in my head what it could be.
I just want to look at the PT scan with my own eyes and see that nothing is there.
That it is just a bruise
This could help me a lot in starting to be able to calmly look at changes and not consider the worse.
It is funny instead of convincing myself it is the worst possible scenario,
As soon as that thought comes into my head I start looking for a simpler possibility
Something more reasonable with a klutzy person like myself.  Because people tend to think I am getting down on myself by using the word klutz.  Well, I could say gravity impaired.  It doesn't matter to me.  It is not a fault as much as just who I am. 
I have often said, "It is not if we will fall or hurt ourselves in my family, it is when"
My hands are covered with burns from the toaster over, cuts, scrapes, gouges and dry cracking.  Why?
Because I do feel in my hands,
but my brain is much slower reacting these days when it comes to pain

OK, my brain is slower these days periods
I had called the med delivery people three days before we left on vacation
They assured me that I needed not call that it was scheduled to be mailed out on the 19 of December.
I thanked them, double checked because I only had 17 pills left.
The pills had come with out calling last time, but they had gotten to me earlier then these seemed to be coming, and I don't want to mess up on my doses
This is the stuff that is keeping the cancer a little slower
Just like my brain, the cancer is slow
Slow cancer is good, slow brain, not so much
When the pills were not here yesterday I was concerned and called. 

Oh, no, they were not mailed out until the 26, not the 19th
They said the mistake was that they did not say the week of the 19th.
I know my brain is slow, but the 26 is not the "week" of the 19th.
but my brain is slow

By the time I found out that they had not mailed my pills and I had to answer all of these easy questions but fired at me non stop like a machine gun, just loud enough that I could barely hear them,
The anxiety just shoots out of control and then I answer one wrong and I can't get back, and well, I just ended up in the bathroom weeping

I cried because I had so much anxiety flowing through my veins I could do nothing else
I cried because I realized how impaired my brain has become
I cried because I had snapped at Bug when he tried to help me
I cried because I was scared
I am not scared of dying
that seems like such an easy thing to do at this moment
The hard scary stuff is trying to live when your brain just doesn't always work
It is scary because I snap at people like a crazed animal backed into a corner
I cry because I feel so stupid that I am taking 2 drugs for crazy and that I am still crazy
Okay, even more crazy
I cried because out in public every one looks at me and tell me that I am going to be fine
I am fine
Well, when I am not weeping and whining over poor me
It seems like a lot of people survive in this world just fine never even trying to use their brain

The pain?

It is not that bad
even the bad is in more perspective and I am learning about my pain management meds
I have to quit worrying about becoming addicted
even just mentioning it I feel stupid
I am a moderate person, not an addictive person
If I use the drugs as prescribed there should be no worries
just pain management
I am working on it
and even though I had that terrible melt down yesterday
Bug was there and wrapped me in his arms and told me how he felt
I felt guilty at first at putting him into this spot,
but he opened the door and walked into my life and has never asked to leave
he kind of knew what he was getting into
Not really because how could he
if I didn't
and still don't

We will get out of the house, maybe straighten up his parents new home a little bit.  We will come home later and snuggle with all the animals and eat our hoppin John. 
cornbread

oh yeah
it is new years eve and I
am once again counting all the amazing gifts given to me this year
how lucky can one person be
Good bye 2013
what adventures will 2014 bring?
we will just have to wait and see

 

The Most Wonderful Christmas

Vicki and I always say we had the most perfect and wonderful childhood ever.  I don't have a single memory of a Christmas where I didn't get what I wanted.  I don't remember really wanting anything like children are portrayed today.  I just wanted to ...hmm.  What did I really want at Christmas?  I knew exactly what would happen every moment of the day.  From Breakfast, stockings, presents, standing rib roast, grandparents, presents, and then time together as a family.  Every year, the same wonderful reliable holiday.  The tree always in the corner.  Sitting on the couch, now my couch, and listening to Mother read the Christmas story.  The Christmas play at church done, the shepherd's robe returned to Dad, my halo hung in the closest with the wings and sheet transformed into an angel outfit with a little tinsel. Christmas Eve,a story, bright colored lights and hot cocoa. Like a Rockwell picture.  Our family's Christmas grew up with us, and yet a childlike spirit was nurtured in us.  It was easy to keep the childlike innocence, when you parents both have the same twinkle in their eyes and the joy of being able to give to their children.  It wasn't about money.  There wasn't much money.  But we all were happy and appreciated the gifts given.  Most of the gifts were hand made.  All of the gifts were perfect, because it was the giving and the receiving that was important.

How do you have Christmas after 57 years knowing what was coming and getting excited, not for the presents we would each get, but the cookies, the nut bread, making presents for others, for the family tradition? 

I found for me to do something so foreign to my life before this year was how to spend Dhristmas.  Bug and I drove north.  It was cold, but the only "snow" we saw was hidden in the woods along a river as we drove north from Florida.  Well, unless you count the piles pushed off parking lots and sidewalks.  They looked more like an old Slurpee with liquorish flavored syrup.  I don't mind driving north and not seeing snow.  But the cold was everywhere.  How do people keep their giant homes warm in the winter?  They don't as far as I can tell.  I am not criticizing, I am sure that they are used to keeping the house in the upper 60s.  I am sure it is environmentally smarter and definitely makes sense financially, but I don't go outside here when it is below 70 if I can help it.  What do you do when the house doesn't even get to 70.  Wear lots of sweaters, preferably cashmere and warm comfy socks and sit under a blanket.  I am just not made to live in the cold. 

We had a wonderful visit with the kids.  Christmas Eve, Ken's Dad came over for dinner and Shireen and Ken cooked a beautiful ham dinner with home made chicken soup and a lovely chicken breast cooked perfectly for me.  The table was sparkling and perfect for Christmas dinner.  The room was golden washed with the light from one of the ten Christmas trees in the house.  The house smelled of ham, brown sugar and pineapple.  The rich savory smell of chicken soup bubbling on the stove.  We all set together around the table.  Kensington sat next to his Poppa Bug, Colton sat next to his grandmother.  Patient with me as the joy just bubbled out of me.  We ate as a family, like was the tradition of my family.  We thought of those absent from our table, knowing they were with other beloved members of our combined families.  We toasted and Chippy the shelf elf moved around the room unseen by our youngest member who ahhhhed in sheer amazement to see that his best friend Chippy at slipped off of the table and up on the grandfather clock.  The adults conspired together to find moments to shift Chippy's position without being detected.  Even the 13 year old joined in instead of spoiling the fun and ratting us out.  At the end of dinner I leaned in and whispered to him, "See, it is way more fun to play a little trick on Kensington because it made all of us happy and see the real spirit of Christmas.  That one day when both he and his brother were all grown he would then be able to tell Kensington the little trick we played on him at dinner that night."  Colton looked at me with awe in his face.  He got it, and because he really did understand then he was allowed to look through that veil of the adult world.  Into the nitty gritty life of adults trying to do our best.  He truly saw the magic that exits between the world of the young and the not so young.  That lessons can be learned in strange ways.

Christmas morning Chippy was perched on the Christmas tree holding a note.  Kensington is 5 and just starting kindergarten.  He recognizes letters, but he is not able to read riddles.  The note stated that before they could open their first present they would have to find the present that they would open last.  Colton had to read the notes for his little brother.  None of the adults would read for Kensington, and no one could open any presents until they followed the riddle.  A few clues later and Kensington was happily rushing between clue and clue.  "Where do you wash your hands?", "It is very cold where your next clue lies" and so on.  Even Colton, at 13 who is in that disgruntled age of believers and those who make the magic for the believers, got into the hunt.  He allowed Kensington to figure out the clue and madly dash to get the next one.  He followed behind with bright eyes reading each clue.  A team working together, and it was wonderful.  They were happy and for a few minutes they were just brothers, happily chasing a riddle together on Christmas morning.  Their parents watching, their grand parents, oohing and ahhhhing and cheering them on.  They finally came to the present they would open last.  It took a few minutes to explain this to Kensington.  It is 5 and he had worked very hard to find this present and now he was supposed to go back into the family room and be happy with all the presents under the tree.  He may be 5, and at first look this may have seemed unfair to him, but he figured out his odds quickly by the number of presents with his name on them and was soon ripping through bright red and green wrapping paper excited.  Both boys oohed and ahhhed over each present.  Each of them got what their hearts most desired.  How can Christmas not be the very best when you are still a child at heart, and you get what you most wished for?

When the presents were unwrapped, the children's desire for opening presents spent in the brief joy and energy expelled earlier, we packed our bags to leave.  I hated going.  I hated missing Christmas dinner with Lisa, Shireen's best friend.  A big lovely Italian Christmas family dinner.  Sounds wonderful.  Unless you are taking the strongest pain med the doctor prescribed and still struggling.  And not just once, but several days I actually followed the instructions on the label for as often as I could take them.  Pain management is new for me.  It is amazing all the different things, good and bad that seem to increase the need to manage the pain.  The joyful excitement of children on the holiday.  The most wonderful moments you could ever wish for, but on the pain scale, it is right up there as one of the top 10 things that cause the need to manage the pain.  Lifting heavy items, getting chilled, breathing in the cold winter air in the Northeast, sleeping on a bed other then our own comfortable bed at home contribute to the challenges.  Talking and being around people too long at anyone time, sitting in a car for too many hours, well, I guess you could say that just about everything I do, feel, hear, see or generally experience will affect me.  I realize that this is true for everyone, young, old, sick and healthy alike.  Everything affects us, it is how we handle things is what gives us a happy life.  Maybe the biggest gift I received this year was the opportunity to experience so much stimuli at the beginning of this new phase of my journey.  A time to understand how so many things affect me, not in a day or two.  No, instantaneously, just something happens, and pow your body feels it.  Yoga helps me to feel where the pain is coming from and then focusing on those areas and try to breath through the pain.  That helps mostly.  If nothing else, it gets me to stop and focus on what am I doing.  I have no intention of staying at home.  I have no intention of not being around people and the emotions and personalities pouring all around me.  I just know to prepare and think through pain management before I go some place that I have learned affects me.  I still plan to travel.  I am just trying to still live life, but understand what that means when it comes to medications.

We left Christmas morning while the children were still weary and happy from their ripping and tearing of paper and packages.  We left while the joy of the holiday held us tight in a group hug.  We drove south to Virginia where Bug's son lives.  We drove with all the crazy people trying to get somewhere.  They do not have the same need for personal space up north then I am used to.  Their driving reflects that same closeness but now wrapped up in their vehicles racing along turnpikes and highways at break neck speed.  We took back roads when ever possible.

We had Christmas dinner at Denny's with Bug's son and his sweet girl friend.  She is next door girl beautiful.  That sweet, intelligent best friend kind of girl.  Just lovely inside and out.  Denny's isn't really where I would rather have had Christmas dinner this year.  But I got to meet my step son.  He is too old to ever think of me as a step mother, which is just fine with me.  But if he feels comfortable enough around me and his Dad and me together, to spend more time with his Dad, well, that would make me very happy.  It was a crazy night and we were all exhausted from a challenging day, but we sat around the table in the middle of all the chaos of families and children crowded into tables Christmas night at Denny's in Newport News, VA.  Everything at the table seemed to stand out while everyone else in the crowded diner disappeared into a hum.  I saw how much Bug and his son look alike.  Josh has his grandfather's color blue sparkling from expressions I have seen on Bug's face.  Family features passed around the genetic pool.  Popping up in every generation in a unique new person.  It was a wonderful Christmas dinner.  The four of us were a little family sharing the moment together, and we all looked very comfortable with each other.  nice.  very nice.

The next morning we got up, ate breakfast at the IHOP, long story and met Josh at his new shop.  We were able to walk around Josh's new space.  He is putting it together now and hopes to have a grand opening maybe around March.  He would also like to have a hog to cook for the opening that he got himself.  We will have to check with Spat and see if he can help make that happen. 

We headed south again.  I was not really feeling any better.  I seemed to still be not getting the pain meds right.  So we decided to stop in Southport, NC and spend the night with the most amazing, precious, special friends, family actually that we love so dearly, Marty and Shelia.  Oh, and of course, Marco and Polo, their 'boys'.  The boys are adorable.  Marco is growing so big.  His mother was a poodle and the father was the shizt poo portion.  Polo takes after his father is quite petite.  They are sweet wonderful little dogs, and help take away a little of our home sickness for our kids.  Their antics entertain us and hold our interest better then TV or even a movie.  We exchanged presents, and they had picked out such thoughtful gifts. Just perfect.  The four of us shared dinner at a Mexican restaurant down the road which was some of the best Mexican food I have ever had.  Bug and I enjoyed my left overs the next night for dinner.

The next morning Marty needed to go into work at the airport.  Shelia would be working at the Hallmark store.  So knowing that they already had commitments made it easier for us to get up the next morning and continue our journey back home.  It was too short, but so sweet.  We shared breakfast of turkey bacon, eggs, fruit and Marty's delicious pumpkin spiced bread.  Marty packed us up enough loaves to keep us set with this amazing treat for many more mornings.  They had even hunted and found my most favorite tea, Earl Grey Decaf.  I felt so loved and nurtured around this sweet adorable couple.  But as comfortable and luxurious is our guest sweet, we missed our own bed.  So we hugged and smiled.  We promised each other to get together again soon.  Anytime, but let's do it soon.  More hugs and then driving away from a place so special, so filled with love and funny intelligent people. 

(Marty, how did I do?)

This time we declared no more stops, even with our most beloved ones.  I needed to get home.  To our bed, our 'kid's, our warm weather, our chairs in front of our TV.  Everyone has been so generous, kind and loving.  And as much as I revel in the love, sometimes my body needs to be in a place with less stimulation.  Even positive stimulation can exhaust and over whelm me.

We were gone for 10 days.
We spent time with Shireen, Ken and the four grand children.  Sweet, beloved grandchildren that stole my heart over and over.  Joy that left me awed.  I got to spend time with my grand daughter crocheting.  I got to spend time with my daughter while she learned the knitting loom and I sat and crocheted.  We talked about this and that and laughed.  We were comfortable there just gabbing and knotting yarn into lovely scarves and afghans.  A quiet time to enjoy the holiday, those moments already spent, others still come on that afternoon. 
How can you explain the joy of time spent with your children and grand children, when you never had children.  What I have learned is that the emotions you are having are yours and right for you.  I have always loved basking in the joy of mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers when they spoke of their off springs.  I felt the joy and wonderment of a child born, a child loved and worried over.  And now to realize my position in this complicated world of families.  I am actually the step mother of the step mother of my grand daughter.  But when I look at that lovely face, I see through the eyes of my friends.  I have seen the look I know is on my face.  It is the look I have seen other parents, grand parents, aunts and uncles have on their face. When they look not only at the person in front of them, but also the connection between themselves and those eyes they look into.
I got to share that kind of moment with the family in NJ
but I also got to share a moment with the son I had never met.
It is almost impossible for me to imagine, let alone realizing that the memories in my head are real.
To leave these precious children that came with Bug into my was hard
Spending the next night with Shelia and Marty, it took the sting out of the separation of the previous few days.

We drove the long drive home.  I-95 was a parking lot.  Just before you got to each exit the traffic would take off and you would be going 45 - 50 mph and you are like, yeah, we are finally getting past whatever the problem was and get moving.  Ha!  Ha Ha!!!  I say.  As soon as you pull securely past the exit the traffic would come to a complete stop.  After much frustration and inching forward we got off on another exit and had the most beautiful ride on the back roads.  Every time we got close enough to see the interstate, we could see red brake lights and cars stopped.  We zipped along under canopy roads and fields of cotton.  The cotton white like snow against the red dirt.  We were heading home.  Home.  It had been a wonderful holiday, and now it was time to go home.


Now
home 
Home in our own bed
We are both completely exhausted. 
The pain is much less here
I am listening to you all and trying very hard to figure out what to take when to keep things running a bit more comfortably

The side effects are literally popping out all over.  I have a few, not many red spots all over my body.  My stomach is also putting in its two cents concerning meds and how well it behaves. 

It has been a 10 days of learning to deal with the changes occurring inside of me.  I appreciate the opportunity to have meds that help after I have lived a good day.

I was awed and reminded so many moments over these 10 days about the important things in life.
How many wonderful things I have in my life

Bug and I watched White Christmas with Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Cluney and Mitzi Gaynor.  My favorite Christmas movie

We watched The Santa Claus movies with Tim Allen, we watched the Christmas movie with Chevy Chase in it.  Movies as much a part of our world as the one with Bing and friends.  Wonderful happy movies

This was one of the most wonderful Christmases ever. 

I missed my brothers
I missed my Daddy
But Daddy will soon join Mother in that memories have faded, but so has the pain for missing her
I spent this Christmas different then any other Christmas I have ever had
It was a wonderful Christmas
All of it
Absolutely every single moment special in my memories
Next year?  I don't know.  For the first time in my life, I do not know where I will be next Christmas. 
And you know. 
That is okay. 
Maybe I will wake up in my own cozy home, snug as a bug (or should I say snug with my bug) in our little bed.  And then Christmas morning.  Magical, light shifting into the bedroom golden with the day. 
Maybe
We will see

For now, I am still radiating the glow of joy, love and aw of these past few weeks. 
Again and again, challenges are lost behind the happiness of life


 

Grand kids

We have made it to the grand kids.  But what about all of my animals?  Who takes care of my Bob, Edna, Harley, our cats, the bear, the chickens and the Bubba fish?  We always have a house sitter who comes and takes care of our kids.  The kids like her just fine, after all they are animals, feed them, throw Harley and Bob a ball or a stick and tell Edna she is special.  And things go fine.  Okay, someone on the wrong side of the fence is a different story. 

I miss the kids, obviously.  But here I am with my grand kids.  We were sitting in the family room last night and I was crocheting and Kayla, my grand daughter came over and asked me what I was doing.  Before I knew it she was sitting next to me and making a long chain stitch.  I was so thrilled I could hardly breathe.  I mean this is a dream I have never dared to have.  She looked up at me and asked how long she had to make the chain.  I showed her how to take the chain apart and then taught her about a single stitch and a double stitch and how to start making a square.  She worked and worked.  Her fingers were a little clumsy, after all, aren't we all a little clumsy when we are learning.  Each time she finished the first two rows she would tear it all apart and start again.  On her 5th try her stitches were as consistent and neat as anything I can do.  She never complained or wanted to stop, she just kept trying and trying.  Every time she figured something out, she would tell me in her sweet 9 year old way of thinking.  "That looks like a flower"  "That is like....." and so on.  She amazed me.  By the time she finished her last try it looked better then my stitches.  She was so in this that Santa Claus was driving up and down the streets in the neighborhood and she didn't want to leave to go see him.  The local fire district had Santa on the back of a fire truck and I wanted to go see him.  He was giving all the children candy canes.  But she told her dad, "No, I have already seen two 'Santa helpers' and I think that is enough.  I am very comfortable sitting with grandma crocheting."  Just writing that breaks my heart.  What more could you ask for.  Isn't that one of the sweetest part of Christmas?!!  Being with the children.  Seeing their kindness and goodness at this time of year.  Kensington was so excited to see Santa, he is 5.  He kept running in and grabbing Kayla's hand, "Santa is coming, Santa is coming" He exclaimed.  His eyes bright with excitement.  Kayla is 9 and I guess she is growing out of Santa.  She isn't yet willing to give completely up, but........

Kensington ran out to see Santa and when it was his turn to get a candy cane he asked Santa if he could get one for his sister.  Santa hesitated briefly, but you could see the honest love in his eyes and Santa handed over the second candy.  He ran into the house with it, thrilled to tell his sister that he had gotten Santa to give him a candy for her.  She was happy, he was over the moon and the adults?  We all stood there awed by the sheer sweetness of the moment. 

As I was looking through my emails and facebook and came across an old message about The Quaz.  This was an interview I did early in 2012.  Jeff Perlman is a writer and more known for his two books about sports.  One is "Sweet" about Walter Payton the other is about the Dallas Cowboys.  He does a weekly interview about someone in sports, politics are whatever interests him.  How and why he found my blog and wanted to interview me is a mystery.  I went back and found my interview.  He is up to 133 interviews, I think I am like 34 or 38, I really can't remember numbers anymore.  I went back and read it again.  Wow!  What a different person I was then.  I was smart and deep.  I was funny and kind.  What happened to me?  I guess I have burned my brain up with meds, chemo, crazy and pain meds.  Trust me as I read that I was taken back.  Where did all of that go?  How could I have been so together back then? 

But

I found the 15 comments people had posted on the blog.  The tears streamed down my face as friend after friend said the loveliest things.  I had never read them, and next to my grand daughter wanting to spend time learning how to crochet, that was the most amazing Christmas gift I have ever been given. 

As I counted my blessings, the tears blurred my eyes, stinging as I thought about the person I have become.  This new years resolution.  I am not even sure what I need to do to try and bring that person back.  To be a better person.  A more caring person.  A more responsible person who is better about getting birthday cards out on time.  To call my friends more and be more dependable.  Someone they can like again.  I am humbled by that person.  She was so brave, so willing to take this challenge on.  Today, I lay in child's pose and wept with the pain in my body.  I wondered how will I do this, if now, when the pain is first starting and I weep like a baby.  How?  How will I be a better person.  I don't have decades to work on, only year(s).  I know I will never be that person again, but I have to start being a better, braver, stronger person. 

Last night the kids opened their presents from us, because two of the kids had to return to their mother for Christmas.  It was loud and joyful.  The tin toys were wound up and raced across the floor.  The parachute men were thrown off the second floor.  The dogs ate through their stockings to get to their milk bones.  Within 15 minutes the entire room was filled with ribbons and presents and packaging.  They loved their pillow cases and happily filled them back up with their prizes.  It was as good as it gets.

My blessings overwhelm me.  For my first Christmas after Daddy's death, it is turning into one of the most beautiful Christmas' I have ever had.  The elf on the shelf is watching over the children, and they are serious about being good.  Kensington walks around singing Christmas carols and tonight he was sweet even to me.  He ate his dinner then got up took his shower without being asked and then went to bed.  "Chippy" the elf will report to Santa who has been naughty and nice, and this little man has taken this to heart.  He is seriously sweet and kind and everything you would want for a child to be at this time of year.  I am so very proud of our little man.  The lessons these children have taught me in the last 36 hours are well, I feel like I am in the Charlie Brown Christmas special.  The one where they decorate the Charlie Brown sad little tree.  Where Linus quotes from St. Luke.  These children are as wonderful and precious as those children from Mr. Shultz's mind. 
Thank you Charles Shultz for Peanuts. 
And thank you Bug for giving me grand children
Thank you Shireen and Ken for sharing your home and children with this crazy old woman
Thank you my dear precious sweet friends for, well, everything you are and do
Thank you to my big brother for having Christmas at his house this year and inviting Marie, my Dad's girlfriend and her daughter to spend Christmas with them.  I am so proud of my big brother for being so kind.
I am proud of my little brother for understanding and supporting our brother as he tries to make this first Christmas without Daddy to be special and to still be about family.
Tonight, there is peace and joy, love and hope in this heart.
There is pain in my body.  Pain I was not prepare for, but I will survive it and learn how to deal with it.  And maybe, just maybe that pain will help me to learn how to once again be that kind, generous person in the Quaz interview.