So, we're not happy?

Husband and I were watching the news last night and they were reporting on a study by the Journal of Happiness (who knew this was actually a journal?). I also read about it in USA Today when I was eating a late, late lunch. It basically said that overall, women are happier than men in their 20's and 30's, but that at the age of 48, there seems to be an intersection where women's happiness declines and men are happier.

As for me, I know I am happier than when I was in my 20's and 30's. In my 40's, I have come to terms with who I am and I am comfortable in my own skin. I don't hold back much anymore. If I am angry, I say so. If I have a different opinion, I express it. I don't apologize for who I know myself to be at my core. Sex is much better, as I now appreciate the physicality of it so much more. I am way over needing to feel fully romanced in some way. I am more in tune with my body. I want a partner who I like being around, and whose company I enjoy. He's not my everything, nor should he be expected to be. If he is gone tomorrow, I'll be fine. I have developed interests of my own. I really, really like me. I am so worthy of my love for me. I could never have imagined feeling this way in my 20's or 30's.

I think I somewhat understand how a woman's happiness can decline however. In our 20's we are having children. In our 30's we are raising them and taking care of everything under the sun. We multi-task. We go 100 miles per hour every day and see that everyone's needs are met, all the while usually working full time jobs ourselves. Him? Not so much. Yes he works, but he does not bear the brunt of the "taking care" tasks that we do. His stress is different. He wants to pay off the mortgage, become financially secure, take trips, have fun, and when he reaches his 40's and 50's, career-wise, he's achieved many of those goals. We, on the other hand, see our kids growing up, needing us less, and if we have not stopped to get to know ourselves along the way, we are lost. We finally slow down enough to realize that our entire lives have been spent taking care of everyone but us. We then start to reflect on getting reacquainted with the person we once were. Where did she go? Who was that woman? Has anyone seen her, or can anyone remember what she used to be like?

It's why we all need to get to the place where we go through a re-birth of sorts. Good doses of extreme self-love and self-care. I am in that journey now. I like being able to look in the mirror, see that face, and know that I have so much to look forward to for the rest of my life. Is he ultimately going to be happier than me once I reach 48? I wouldn't bet on it dahling. :c)

Yard sale Saturday!

We will be having our huge, gargantuan yard sale to benefit Cindy at another co-worker's house on Saturday morning. We'd planned on last Saturday, but we got rained out.

She had her surgery two weeks ago today, and before surgery they did the sentinel node procedure on her which lights up any possibly affected lymph nodes. They only had to dissect out three nodes on the right, and the frozen section done on one while she was in the OR was negative. I spoke to her on Sunday and she reported she was happy to share the news that all three nodes were completely negative! And, further, they told her that the margins of the lesion were negative as well. That is such good news! She may or may not need chemo depending on what the pathology report determines in terms of what kind of cancer cells she had. She'll see the oncologist on August 15th and will know more then. We have decided to do both a yard sale and a Home Interiors candle sale to try and raise as much as we can to help her with her medical expenses. The sad fact is that 20% of all this will still be a whopping amount.

Wish us luck and, hey, come on by Saturday if you need some "stuff." :c)

Hot, hazy days

The reliable feeder eater no matter the weather.


The feeder activity has been way down.
Heck, it's been too hot to want to eat outside.
I can't blame them.

Hot (syn):
baking, blistering, boiling, broiling, burning
fiery, heated, red-hot, roasting, scalding,
scorching, searing, sizzling, sultry, sweltering, torrid...

I try and keep water available, but it's
evaporated by the time I get home each day.
Ugh.
I hate being hot.
I hate sleeping feeling hot.
Were we not moaning about the endless
cold just a few weeks back?
Snow.
Now, that sounds lovely about now.
Yes, I hate to say it, but I am looking forward
to the cool, crisp fall breezes.

So, what do I have here?

I noticed this on Saturday in the tree
line behind the house.
It had engulfed a good sized branch
and a good number of leaves on this tree.

It's obviously some sort of cocoon for
a caterpillar? Or for something bigger?
Does anyone know?

Spot on...

From the Schafer Autism Report which I subscribe to on-line:

Autism families must learn and grow a community of support
By ANN BAUER
Special to The Washington Post

There is a family down the street whom I envy. I've never met them. They live in a two-story white house — a mother, a father and their grown son. Outside is a trimmed yard with rosebushes and a wooden arbor where the men work on weekends.

The dad, who looks to be near 60, pushes a wheelbarrow or carries a set of shears. The son could be 20 — the age of my oldest child — or 40. He is a short, egg-shaped man. He walks behind his father, carrying large shovels and bags of dirt and the like. He works tirelessly, from what I can see, and talks most of the time.

On weekdays, when I am taking my youngest child to school, I sometimes see him holding a cloth lunch bag and boarding a small bus.

I imagine that at work he is as cheerful and productive as he appears to be with his father on Sunday afternoons.

The fact that this man has Down syndrome is clear. He has the telltale almond-shape eyes and short limbs. I know that he could suffer from any number of medical conditions, from heart defects to epilepsy, and that his cognitive functioning is probably impaired.

Still, I envy his parents.

My grown son has autism. And while I wouldn't trade him — the person to whom I gave birth — for any other, I wish that his disability were as recognizable as Down syndrome and that we, his parents, were more effective at helping him achieve a satisfying life.

Right now, we're flummoxed by the issues that arise as a child with autism veers into adulthood: higher education, employment, independent living, romance. In all these areas, family members of those with Down syndrome have figured out a cohesive, workable system of support.

They have some advantages that we don't. First, Down syndrome is quantifiable: There is a definitive diagnosis and a general similarity of experience. It doesn't have the random diversity of autism, which spans a range from nonverbal to simply rigid and from low IQ to extremely high. Second, those parents have mobilized. Parents of children and adults with Down syndrome routinely trade information and assist one another in accessing care.

Third — and most important — they have carved out a place in society for their children. It's a hackneyed myth that people with Down syndrome are uniformly happy, but it is true that they have the capacity for joy and that their community has ensured they have a breadth of options — career, marriage, dignity.

This is what we who love people with autism must do.

My son is flailing in a system that doesn't know how to deal with him. I admit I'm of little help. He doesn't look different from other 20 year olds, and he happens to be of normal intelligence. But socially, he is as lost as he was at age 4, when he withdrew, quit speaking and stared for hours at his own hand. Over the past year, he's been placed in a series of group homes for people with mental retardation or psychosis. None has been right.

His senses are overly acute, which means he experiences the world largely as pain. Noises, colors, smells — they're all too vivid. He is prone to sleeping his days away rather than working in the yard. He likes dark rooms and movies and has the urge to date but cannot work up the nerve to speak to girls, much less ask one out.

At this time there are no resources, the county social worker tells me. My son doesn't fit in any of the current residences, jobs programs or schools. There are not enough "waivers" available to provide appropriate housing or treatment for the deluge of young people like him. Worse, the community of parents dealing with autism has splintered over philosophical issues, such as causal factors and wholesale acceptance vs. finding a cure.

Twenty years from now, I hope things will be different — that we'll have learned to cooperate.

Today, unfortunately, more than 90 percent of fetuses tested and found to have Down syndrome are aborted. The power of their parent group is shrinking, as is the world's mosaic of human form.

I'd like to knock on my neighbors' door and ask them how it's done.

Tell me the secret to sharing your home with a grown child, I would say, while allowing him the space to become an adult with his own life. Show me how to create unity among families. I may do this yet.

Someone has to talk to those wise parents before they die out, or I fear our children with autism will continue to wander through a world where they never fit.

Ann Bauer, a writer in Minnesota, is the author of the novel "A Wild Ride Up the Cupboards."

Remembering a special soul

(Glacier National Park taken by my friend)

In memory of Randy Pausch...

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination
And life is a journey
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then, perhaps, to wisdom;
From weakness to strength
Or strength to weakness--
And, often, back again;
From offense to forgiveness,
From loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude,
From pain to compassion,
And grief to understanding--
From fear to faith;
From defeat to defeat to defeat--
Until, looking backward or ahead,
We see that victory lies
Not at some high place along the way,
But in having made the journey, stage by stage,
A sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage--
To life everlasting.

--From a Jewish Prayer Book as quoted in
The Faith Club

Just because you can...

I work at a teaching hospital, a public teaching hospital. Each year, the county where the hospital is located always whines about the fact that they "contribute $3 million per year" towards our facility, and are constantly scrutinizing the hospital's organization and functioning. Now is a good time to tell you that last year our hospital did $78 million in uncompensated care. So, now moan to me about the $3 million the county whines about throwing in the coffers each year. Bottom line is that you will get the same level and quality of care at our facility regardless of your ability to pay.

But because we are a "public" hospital, there are those who, for some reason, thrive on knowing all the details of the hospital because they are "public record." Salaries of the top executive staff have been on the record forever, and even though they are commensurate with other hospitals this size, issues are always being made about them. But now, a new low. A local on-line-only newspaper, famous for all the "breaking news" in the area, has chosen to dig and publish a list of everyone in the facility who makes $60K or more. No story to head it, no reason given for publishing it, nope. Just a long list of names, titles, and salaries posted for everyone at the hospital and in the community to see. Nurse managers, directors, department heads... listed in order of their salary. All in all, 130 people were listed and the fall-out will be irreparable.

A former nursing leader at our facility, who is now working in another state, commented in the opinion section of their website and said it better than I could...

..."The key executives enter a system such as this, or should, with the knowledge that they will be operating under a microscope in a different way than many other facilities, right or wrong, and are at times perceived targets themselves. But, the middle managers are the group that have been, and will continue to be, working hard behind the scenes for patient-centered care and don’t make the conscious decision to put themselves in the spotlight individually.

If the intent from this publication was to address a dollar amount being spent on management salaries at a local “public institution”, a simple number of those employees and total dollar amount could have sent an overall message. I am curious about what is felt to be gained by listing each hardworking manager and their individual salary in public for comparison to each other, scrutiny by their staff, neighbors, families and others. There is no good that will come of this except opening the opportunity for rifts and divisiveness among a rank of workers who, depending on what their current frame of reference is, may find it devaluing their self worth in what they provide to the institution and the community.

If it was for shock value alone… it worked…"

Like our mamas always said, "Just because you can does not mean you should." I'm just sayin'...

Trying to stay focused

As I have been trying to stay focused on the positive,
I ran across some great quotes by Rabindranath Tagore:

"You can't cross the sea merely by
standing and staring at the water."

"Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry
rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky."

and probably my favorite...

"Faith is the bird that feels the light and
sings when the dawn is still dark."

-------------
After I called Dr. B's office back to make an appt. with Dr. L
I was told it would be the end of August until he could see us.
I cried.
Right there on the phone.
I cried.
So, I went back to the drawing board and searched out
yet another option, this one 60+ miles away,
but we have an appointment on August 4th at 8AM
with a new MD (we'll be his first) in their clinic.
Dr. R went to Temple University and did his residency
at UVa in Charlottesville and finished in 2006
so I am hoping he has some experience with autism.
Hoping.
Praying.
Wanting.
To stop crying about it all.

Just for fun

Got this in my email from my husband's aunt...

How well can you control your brain?
Take the color test and see if you can really concentrate!

Have fun!

Hoping for some wisdom...

Another beautiful image from my friend taken in Glacier National Park.

We now have an appointment. I searched and searched to find someone who could see Sam before September. Someone who might have an understanding of autism. Someone I would not have to educate. Someone whose brain I could pick to figure out what we need to do. We'll see the hopefully kind and knowledgeable Dr. B next Wednesday at 3PM. He's newer. He apparently just finished a fellowship at Emory last year. That's good. Emory has a great Autism Center. Maybe, just maybe, that means he actually knows something about autism. We need knowledge. We need experience with autism and medications. Apparently our good friend Lexapro is no match for puberty at this point in Sam's life. School starts August 7th... the start of demands made upon him once again... with puberty rearing it's head. Scary stuff. We're having more and more frequent episodes out of the blue where we get angry and use our hands. Not good. Scary stuff. We need something to take the edge off so that I don't get a call from the school resource officer telling me he's sitting on my handcuffed son. Nope. That just won't do at all. Please just pray that Dr. B has wisdom about what we can try. Just pray that for us. That's all. Thanks.

**Update: I am feeling rather snakebit. Got a message from Dr. B.'s office yesterday afternoon when I got home saying, "Uh, when we scheduled that appt. we made an error. Dr. B. does not see adolescents, and so we'll need to make Sam an appt. with Dr. L. instead. (Sigh...) I called her back and got her voice mail and am waiting on her to call back. Please pray that we can still get in next week.

"We" need to clean this house

I always know when things have reached critical mass. Husband will say, "We need to clean this house." I always laugh inside, because though I try to make sure the house stays picked up and presentable, the every two week deep cleaning schedule is one I'm still not good at keeping. Two weeks turn into three, and soon we're sliding toward 3.5 and, oh my, 4.... then the toilets are really needing a good visit with the Comet. I used to take a morning on my days off and just tackle it full force. I'd be done by after lunch and still have a few hours to myself before going to get Sam. We all know that it's just much easier to get the house cleaned when no one else is home. But, when we moved into this new house two years ago, this much larger house, I've been doubly challenged.

Months back, husband started saying, "I'll do the floors." Men like to "do floors" and so he started doing the vacuuming and wet Swiffering of the wood floors. It was much appreciated. Then, he added dusting to his repertoire as he found that the Swiffer dusters were also loads of fun. Great! Then, all I had to do was pick up, clean the bathrooms, and the kitchen. Of course, bless his heart (and yes, we Southern women know what that means), his dusting didn't include, uh, picking anything up, per se. Never mind... it's the thought that counts, and hey, I'll take any help I can get.

So today, after I got home from church, the house cleaning commenced. I started in the small half bath and then headed upstairs to Sam's lair to clean it. (Husband won't try to get anything up there for fear he'll suck up a train.) Once I was done up there, I headed to our master bath, which takes a good while to do. Meanwhile, Mr. Pusher of the Dyson Slim was grunting and groaning to beat the band. He came into the bathroom as I was on my knees scrubbing his shower stall, to say, "(Pant, pant) I have to take a break. I am worn slap out. I've dusted and have almost finished the vacuuming." When I sweetly mentioned that he'd need to do the wet Swiffering too, I thought it might be his undoing.

As I continued to clean the bathroom, I just simply grinned like a 'possum and giggled to myself. Bless their hearts, they're cute, but clueless at times what it takes to do all we do. They can't help it. Most of them were ruined by their mamas. Nevertheless, this house is now clean. I can relax for another two (ahem) weeks.

Third Brood

Yesterday, we noticed a little head finally peeking
out of the entrance hole of the bluebird house.
Husband quietly went out into the yard to snap
this photo of the first brave one ready to fly.
This is the third brood of this season, and last
time I checked, there were three eggs, though mom
may have added more before incubating.
These babies have taken almost the full 21 days,
so I am sure they will be ready to go today sometime.

Indulge me

Facts:
* Since my hysterectomy in March of 2007, I have fallen off the wagon with my walking
* I was, at one time, walking an hour, four days per week (around 15 miles), and loved it
* I have concentrated on getting my eating back to what it needs to be over the past months
* Guess what? It's not working.
* My body just seems to keep getting softer and splattered.
* I am in my "bigger" clothes... you know, the "buffer" ones you keep for bloaty days
* OK, I'll admit, I've been enjoying too frequent glasses of wine in the evenings
* Bottom line, somethin's gotta give

Additional facts:
* As much as I used to love my walking, I am bored listening to music while I walk
* Reading while walking is rather difficult and jarring to me
* Boy, if I just had a TV to watch and take my mind off the fact that I am walking...

Ta-da! Husband heard me say this and since he is now walking again (shaming me mercilessly... yes, most all those stars on the calendar are his to mark days he's walked) and thought that would be a smashing idea! We ordered the little TV, installed a wall mount, and plunked that sucker on the wall just in front of the treadmill in the basement. The DirecTV guy will be here Thursday with a receiver and to install the cable to it. Wow. Yahoo! Yippee!

Rubber meets the road fact:
No more excuses Ms Jayne.
(Can I watch the Food Network while I walk?)

Happy Friday Zinnias!

Beautiful zinnias at my parent's house...

Hope everyone has a restful
and/or really fun-filled weekend!

Inverted titmouse

I saw this little guy going up and down the limb of this
tree in search of something edible... maybe some juicy ants?

I love to see the Tufted Titmice and their acrobatics!

'Shroomland

After the rains.....

Came a veritable plethora of mushrooms.
So many different varieties.
Here today.
Gone tomorrow.
As if they'd never risen from the mulch.

Bed "do overs"

After we had this rain garden created, we ceased to have any issues with water being able to pool towards the foundation wall of the house, however, they did such a great job of re-routing the water, that the Virginia Sweetspire and the Winterberry Holly started to die. So, landscaper Janet asked for a week or two to think about what would provide the color interest she wanted and be hearty in the bed. We arrived home Friday to find that Dave had been out and replaced the Sweetspire with Rosy Glow Barberry and the Winterberry with Oakleaf Hydrangea! It looks so great!

A closer look at the Barberry above...

...and the Oakleaf Hydrangea.

She also had to pull up the Strawberry Begonia on the side bed as the area just did not provide quite enough shade and it was struggling mightily. We were watering and watering, and yet it was shriveling day by day. Instead, they planted Dwarf Modo Grass, which should withstand anything the weather might throw at it. Now, that's my kind of ground cover!

A gardening do-over with great results!

~~~~~~

Update on the burl:

I contacted a nice man named Jim, who emailed me back to say he'd be thrilled to have the burl as he turns bowls and other things, and so yesterday he came out and cut it down. Turns out it's a wild cherry. Hope it makes him happy and that he can fashion a beautiful bowl from it.

Her special day...

My mommy...
The one who knows me.
I mean really knows me.
Better than any other living human being.
She gives huge, warm hugs.
Her smile is all knowing.
And someday, I will run away with her
to Ireland and Scotland.
My bonny mommy...
Oh, how I love you.

Happy, happy birthday
to my best friend in the entire world!

Time with Bev

There are not enough words to describe the beauty of last night. As I walked into the nave and up the aisle, Bev's urn was there, on a small table, covered with a beautiful pall. A huge bouquet of white flowers was on the altar. The Paschal candle was beside her, glowing. Lights in the nave were dimmed, except for the ones on her. The hour flew by, and I felt so blessed to have been there.

A guide sheet of sorts was waiting for us, and this is what it said:

"Thank you for being a part of the Vigil following the death of our sister Bev. The hour you will spend in the Nave is greatly appreciated both by her family and your parish family. In participating in the Vigil, you will experience what was a normal part of the burial liturgy in medieval times. The Vigil prepares us for the Liturgy of the Word and Table at the Burial Office itself. In being here for an hour, you are saying to the family, "We want to share in your loss." It is hoped that you will spend the next hour in prayer and reflection. The following are some suggestions to help you use this time fully."

Listed were suggestions of readings in the Book of Common Prayer, and the Bible, as well as a book called "Hope for the Flowers."

Since I've never participated in a Vigil, I had no idea that we actually have Prayers for a Vigil in the Book of Common Prayer...

Dear Friends: It was our Lord Jesus Christ himself who said, "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest." Let us pray, then, for our sister Bev, that she may rest from her labors, and enter into the light of God's eternal sabbath rest.

Receive, O Lord, you servant, for she returns to you.
Into your hands, O Lord,
we commend our sister Bev.

Wash her in the font of everlasting life, and clothe her in her heavenly wedding garment.
Into your hands, O Lord,
we commend our sister Bev.

May she hear your words of invitation, "Come, you blessed of my Father."
Into your hands, O Lord,
we commend our sister Bev.

May she gaze upon you, Lord, face to face, and taste the blessedness of perfect rest.
Into your hands, O Lord,
we commend our sister Bev.

May angels surround her, and saints welcome her in peace.
Into your hands, O Lord,
we commend our sister Bev.

Almighty God, our Father in heaven, before whom live all who die in the Lord: Receive our sister Bev into the courts of your heavenly dwelling place. Let her heart and soul now ring out in joy to you, O Lord, the living God, and the God of those who live. This we ask through Christ our Lord. Amen.

~~~~~~~~

And I loved this closing prayer.... I think Bev did too (we discussed it), as I did all the readings and prayers aloud, my voice echoing in the darkness...

Almighty God, with whom still live the spirits of those who die in the Lord, and with whom the souls of the faithful are in joy and felicity: We give you heartfelt thanks for the good examples of all your servants, who, having finished their course in faith, now find rest and refreshment. May we, with all who have died in the true faith of your holy Name, have perfect fulfillment and bliss in your eternal and everlasting glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

~~~~~~~~

Thanks to everyone who commented on the Vigil,
and especially to you Carolyn.
I came home, read your comment, and was so touched.
May you all be so very blessed, and may we all live
each and every day as if it just may be our last,
soaking in the joy and love like sponges.

Vigil

Last Sunday evening, one of our parishioners who had fought cancer for years, reached the end of her battle. Bev was only 68, and had endured so much as she dealt with a second recurrence of her breast cancer. She maintained such a positive attitude and fought the good fight. In the end, it was time for her to transition to the next journey. And so, we will say good bye to her and honor her by having her funeral service at our regular Sunday service on Sunday at 10AM. I am sure some people were not sure how they felt about that. But, to be able to have her service when we will all be there, the choir will be in full force to sing her very favorite hymns, and she can be surrounded by those who loved her... there can't be a better tribute.

To fully honor her, and embrace her as having been one of our own, we will re-institute a time honored tradition and have a vigil for her. The visitation will be from 6-8PM today and once she is brought to the church, we will keep her company until the service at 10AM on Sunday. We have signed up in one hour shifts to sit with Bev in the nave. I will do my shift from 10-11 PM and will have quiet contemplative time to honor Bev and reflect on my own life's journey. I anticipate it will be a very moving, spiritual experience, and I am beyond moved that this congregation stepped up to let her family know how much she was a part of our family and to let them see just how much she was loved and will be missed.

Excuse me

"Can I help you?"

For some reason, the expression reminds
me of Dana Carvey's Church Lady!

What in the world?

In the tree line behind the house, I saw this poor tree.
Who can possibly enlighten me what this growth
is and how it killed the tree?
I looked for any leaves to ID the tree, but when I looked up,
I only saw approximately 10 feet of trunk broken off
and a few empty limbs.

Who's there?

As I was walking towards the back tree line,
I saw the concerned head poke out of the bluebird
house as if to let me know I'd best not come much closer.
This is their third brood of the season, and they
love this old bluebird house so much.
I can't begin to count the number of babies
who have fledged from this house.

Hiding in the hibiscus

I snapped this photo of the inside of a beautiful pale

pink hibiscus at my Mom and Dad's house and was
surprised to see the hidden visitor when I loaded it
onto the computer. Good thing he didn't mind my
lens being stuck up there in the flower with him!

Buzzzzz on buddy!

Transitions...

(Transitions I by Elise Remender)

Yesterday at church, the sermon was on transitions. Life transitions. Specifically, the transition one of our parishioners is facing in the end of her battle with breast cancer. Regardless of the transition, we are forever changed. Some transitions are happy, and some are sad, but the fact is, they are a part of living and of death. We mark them indelibly in our souls. We remember the details. We know we are not the same.

In my life with autism, I have striven to try and focus on the positive. I learned many years ago to accept what life had dealt me, and to understand that it was what it was and the only thing I could control is how I let it impact my life. I chose to try and see the bright side of things and to not feel sorry for myself. Otherwise, I suppose by now, I'd be on massive doses of anti-depressants and would never have been able to embrace the grace which sustains me. In this journey, there have been corners to turn. Times when things shifted and we had to embrace a new "normal" for us. Some have been easy and others have been hard. Fraught with tears, much sadness, and finally resignation. I am upon one of those transitions, and I am struggling.

Sam will be 16 next month. It's become more and more apparent to me that this is pretty much all there is. Dreams of his potentially being able to someday be independent to some extent are all but faded fantasy now. We will start our sophomore year next month, and knowing how the school years fly by, I know realistically that we don't have but a few short years before hard decisions need to be made. The thing is, although I have now pretty much surrendered to the fact that he does not need to be with us forever, getting him there will be a much more difficult process. And, I know that if indeed we are looking at a group home situation, we need to get on some waiting lists... now... yesterday?

And then there is the guilt of my feeling as if, in many ways, this decision is partly based upon my not wanting, or being able to see, living in this bubble forever. My entire life since getting his diagnosis has been consumed with autism. The restrictions it has placed upon me emotionally, socially, and otherwise are making me weary. I will be 50 years old by the time he is out of school and ready to transition to some other living arrangement. Fifty. Fifty years old and never once able to leave my child at home just to go out to dinner. Just to see a movie. Just to leave my own backyard and see the world more fully. I can say, without a doubt, that if I have to live this way forever, it may just finally break me down.

So yesterday, driving home from church, thinking about transition, it slammed into me and I sobbed. The reason why I have been so very sad thinking about all this during the past week. I know it will be what is best for me and for Sam, and yet, I get this massive sick gut punch when I think about his not wanting to go. I may be wrong. By that time, maybe he'll be fully ready to be open to that transition. Yet, he is so emotionally connected to me and more than once has told me he'll be here with us forever. How will that play out? The thoughts of his wailing and clinging as we approach an eventual moving day rips my heart raw. That is the bigger reason I have been feeling so sad these past weeks as I pondered the path of our lives ahead.

But, as with every other corner we've turned, and every other time of resignation, we will endure it. The path will be made clear. The important thing for me now is to embrace the eventuality and move forward to make plans. Knowing I've made the very best arrangements I can. Seeing him graduate, transition into a program where he will learn to be more independent, get a job, and find joy in life will be worth all the strife I am feeling now. So, if you are so inclined, pray for peace to surround me and sustain me as I transition into yet another path on my journey through grace.

Nuthatch nibbler

I was walking towards the back tree line trying to
see if I could sneak a peek at the Brown Thrasher
baby I saw taking a dust path a few minutes prior to
my covert stalking mission. All of a sudden, this
little dude just landed in font of me on the feeders.
He gave me his little squeaky toy impersonation
as he sampled first the peanut feeder and
then checked out the sunflower seeds.

I am so happy to share an actual bird photo
as the activity has been very slow here on Chickadee.
I love these brave little guys!

Like family...

I love what I do. I mean, really love what I do. I am, if nothing else, the consummate people person. I love interacting with and helping people. I never imagined myself a nurse growing up, but here I am. And I love it. I love looking into the eyes of people who need help, and knowing that I can do my best to make things better.

Mrs. F came to me on a Friday morning, fresh from surgery to open the flow to her left leg in hopes that the bad wounds on her great toe and heel would start to heal. Years of diabetes and heart disease had impacted the blood flow to her legs, and the physician wanted some hyperbaric oxygen treatments to jump-start the healing process. She was frightened and looked at the chambers with trepidation. I just sat down next to her in her wheelchair, put my hand on hers, and along with my talk about how hyperbarics works, allowed her time to digest it all and feel comfortable. By the time I got her in the chamber and she got to her treatment depth, the anxiety had dissipated a good bit, and I praised her for being so brave and assured her that this would help her healing. We planned 15 treatments for her. She was going to be discharged over the weekend, but we scheduled her to come back as an out-patient to complete her treatments and for wound care.

By the tenth treatment, she was a pro. She called me back to speak to me one day and wanted to tell me that she'd seen her vascular surgeon and that he asked her about her experience with us. She said, "I told him that you all are not like professionals... you all are like my family." She raved to him about how well she'd been cared for in our unit, and told me that he was very impressed and told her he'd plan on using us more in the future. I held her hand, gave her a hug, and told her we were happy to help her. "One more thing, " she said, "what is your favorite color?" I smiled and told her, "That would be blue!"

On Wednesday when I got to work, I had this beautiful crocheted afghan waiting for me. Once she was out of the chamber she hugged me and said, "I'll never be able to let you all know how much I appreciate all you've done for me and how nice you've been." I assured her the pleasure was all mine. I love what I do. Yep, love it.

Happy July 4th!

(Fourth of July by Zhen-Huan Lu)*


A happy and safe July 4th to everyone!

*This beautiful print was found here

An oldie but goodie

You are BLUE.

"You are cool and soothing, with a hidden spontaneous side. You are deeper than most people perceive, and you care a lot for those whom you surround yourself with."


OK... so the code to this cute meme kept messing up and so I finally gave up trying to get it right!

I AM so BLUE, no doubt... lol...

Inauguration of the hoo-hoo's

Years ago, there was a best selling book called "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." It was all about a group of friends who were support for one another and stuck together through thick and thin. I am sure many a woman read that book and wished they might be a part of something like that.

Last week, my nurse manager brought an invitation to me. One of the product reps we know was starting a social group for women and the inaugural gathering of the "Hoo-hoo's" (pronounced who-who's) was going to be at her home the evening of July 1st. This was to be a monthly gathering of women who, by virtue of what we do, had something in common, but more importantly might be a social outlet and support to one another. If your last name started with A-M, you were to bring a bottle of wine, and if it started with N-Z, an appetizer to share. I got directions and looked forward, with curiosity, to seeing exactly what this might be.

I arrived at her home last night to be greeted by another woman who works with her, and whom I knew, and my nurse manager. Soon, two other women came, with smiles on their faces, and introduced themselves as well. They were people from our "competition" down the street in City by the River. Hmmm... I wondered how this was going to go. Soon, another gal arrived who also worked with our hostess and the six of us gathered around the dining room table. The wine and cheese flowed, and soon the chattering began. Within minutes it was clear that we were not there to talk shop, to discuss the latest innovations in wound care, or to discern our differences, but rather to just simply let our hair down and enjoy each other as women.

It was simply a blast! We laughed until we cried. We giggled, we shared, we let our guards down, and we bonded. We discussed things that I won't shock my gentle readers with, but trust me when I tell you that the humor was universal. I arrived at 6:30, and when I thought to finally look at my watch, it was 9:15. The time flew and I can't remember when I last had such a fun time. I've needed a social outlet like this for a long time. I am proud to be an inaugural Hoo-hoo.

Warmth of the sun

And so the sun sets on another day...
Another day to soak in the joy
remembering that you have the power
to make you life what you want it to be.
Only you
get to decide each and every day
if you will focus on the beauty
or dwell in the dark places.
It's there for the taking.
Go ahead...
Reach out
and grab
life.