tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-93514292024-03-14T04:07:55.181-05:00annie oddfloweranniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.comBlogger893125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-74407998286724473722024-01-17T14:44:00.000-05:002024-01-17T14:44:37.191-05:00Occasionally, I Worry<p>I'm starting a book by B.F.Skinner, Walden Two, written in 1948. The edition I have has a new introduction, written in January, 1976, appropriately titled, Walden Two Revisited. </p><p>I suppose I could tell a story of how I came to be reading a book by
the man who developed behavior analysis, but for now, let's just chalk
it up to curiosity (and privilege). It's been such an ordeal to get signed in to my blog
since I've been away so long and now I'm distracted from my original
mission, which was to ponder over the very last paragraph of the nearly 50 years old revisiting of Walden Two: <br /></p><blockquote><p><i>"It is now widely recognized that great changes must be made in the American way of life. Not only can we not face the rest of the world while consuming and polluting as we do, we cannot for long face ourselves while acknowledging the violence and chaos in which we live. The choice is clear: either we do nothing and allow a miserable and catastrophic future to overtake us, or we use our knowledge about human behavior to create a social environment in which we shall live productive and creative lives and do so without jeopardizing the chances that those who follow us will be able to do the same..."<br /></i></p></blockquote><p>I've left off his last sentence (<i>"Something like a Walden Two would not be a bad start."</i>) because I haven't yet read the book and I don't know what his story will look like. I'm not even beginning to want to sound like I think I have the answers to such complex problems as we are seeing on our world today.</p><p>I <i>am</i> saying, here we are, exhibiting the same behaviors written about nearly 50 years ago, and I am somewhat concerned and painfully aware there are no easy answers.</p><p>Occasionally, I worry. When the worry begins to overcome me, I ask myself if I am okay at the present moment. Usually, the answer to that question is, "yes." So, yes, <i>I</i> am okay, but what about the rest of the world, what about the rest of <i>my</i> world, my children, my precious grandchildren, what about them? And then, because I am a conscientious person, what about <i>your</i> world, <i>your</i> children, <i>your </i>precious grandchildren? And what about the world of strangers, <i>their</i> children, <i>their</i> precious grandchildren? And then, I begin to worry again. </p><p>I'm reminded of the Buddhist meditation where you say something like,, "May I find joy. May I be safe. May I find peace," and then you direct those thoughts/feelings outwards toward others—loved ones and friends, neighbors, friends, acquaintances, and toward difficult individuals.It doesn't seem like much to offer. It's been helpful in the past. It's what I have. In this present moment. <br /></p>anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-88505859808929849822022-01-01T20:10:00.000-05:002022-01-01T20:10:47.818-05:00Reflections<p>It's been a while. Unprecedented times continue.</p><p>My father died in August of 2020. I'll have more to write about that at another time.</p><p>In May of 2021, a flood of biblical proportions flooded our home (and many others). We moved in with my mother on May 18, 2021, and remain here to this day. I'll have more to write about that, too. </p><p>We had no flood insurance (we do now). We have managed to rebuild but it has been a long and slow haul. We still aren't done, but there is hope we may be able to begin moving back in toward the end of next week. I'll also have more to write about that. </p><p>The thing that brings me here tonight is the fact that I don't think I've managed my life well for the last 7 months. I haven't been able to journal much. I haven't been able to do any of my creative endeavors. I haven't kept up with my walking. I haven't eaten as well as I could have. <br /></p><p>I have no real excuse. It's just the way it was. I coped as well as I could under the circumstances. Looking back, I am a little disappointed in myself. I could have been more mindful and aware. Instead, I shut down. </p><p>Gratitude became difficult. What I saw was someone who couldn't seem to deal with not having her way (not being able to be in my own home). Someone who made it through the death of her son and three different bouts of cancer—and yet couldn't deal gracefully with being displaced from her home.<br /></p><p>I'm grateful we were able to stay with my mom, grateful that she is happy to have us (and now I worry, because she will have to learn to live alone again after we are gone). </p><p>December of 2020 was the ten year anniversary of my son's death. With the relaxing of Covid protocols, the student art show was held this year (cancelled last year). I bought two last pieces of pottery for my "grief collection." I'll still shop the student art show, and will probably buy more pottery. I just felt it was time to declare the "grief collection" complete. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ1OgHWSkDdmdffGzwnDAyS_pleWhkqK6bX6w616uFo-5WBq7Kvxas50aMiN13VMAY0EvSgvW6P2hXCmCW1Y3_3jRwTi8QTSBDwUVPBAowwI4-UVcv_zmBwwWvzgwAZT0zJNRHBXvEURue4H85l77yC5A4AyAt8n5V6_oNtfEZBB_v4CVOMwU=s2240" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2240" data-original-width="2240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhQ1OgHWSkDdmdffGzwnDAyS_pleWhkqK6bX6w616uFo-5WBq7Kvxas50aMiN13VMAY0EvSgvW6P2hXCmCW1Y3_3jRwTi8QTSBDwUVPBAowwI4-UVcv_zmBwwWvzgwAZT0zJNRHBXvEURue4H85l77yC5A4AyAt8n5V6_oNtfEZBB_v4CVOMwU=s320" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p>I hope to come here more often in 2022. I'm not sure what my creative life will look like when I finally get settled back into my house. There will be changes. Perhaps they will be changes I can be grateful for, in spite of the cost it took to get to them. <br /></p><p>. <br /></p><p> <br /></p>anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-90792334442987931292020-04-26T13:13:00.002-05:002020-04-26T13:13:54.666-05:00Unprecedented Times<br />
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Everybody and his brother has already declared it so, and I will reiterate: We are living in unprecedented times.<br />
<br />
I've been trying to journal some about the situation as I see it, as it effects me. I'm not doing a good job at it.<br />
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I'm working from home, which is weird. I'm doing the same work but in a different environment.<br />
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<br />
I have a grandson who turned two months old yesterday. I have held him in my arms exactly one time. The current "normal" is me going to my daughter's house and walking with her (at an acceptable distance) while she strolls the baby. I'm grateful her baby came early and they were able to get home when they did. We were able to visit with them in the hospital, before all the limitations were placed on hospital visits. <br />
<br />
I visit my parents by sitting outside on their patio (while staying the acceptable distance). I am grateful to be able to do that. My sister has not been able to come see my parents for over a month now.<br />
<br />
I've watched far too much TV (Little Fires Everywhere, Almost Human, Bosch, Tales From the Loop, in case you need any suggestions).<br />
<br />
I've participated (loosely) in a couple of writing groups centered around the things we are currently experiencing. I've take a free online collage class and I'm looking forward to taking a second (paid) class with the same instructor.<br />
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<br />
I ordered a kit to make clay bowls with rose transfers on them. That was a class offered on Zoom.<br />
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I've cooked more often than usual.<br />
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I've eaten more junk and moved less than usual.<br />
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I've made about a dozen cloth face masks. <br />
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My various appointments at MD Anderson have all been rescheduled for June 1.<br />
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It's a weird and difficult time for the entire world. If I think too much and too broadly about the possible repercussions of this time for the world, and for our country, I worry. What helps most is bringing myself back to this present moment. That's all I have. That's all any of us have. That is always the way it has been.<br />
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anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-44532820548361274622020-01-08T22:16:00.001-05:002020-01-08T22:16:45.021-05:00The Much Longed For Five Year Mark!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today was my day to hear results from my CT scan. Everything was clear and looking good. I was worried because I had been anemic. I tested positive for blood in my stool. My colonoscopy was clear. But because of the anemia, they did an upper scope, where they saw mucus (fatty liver doctor had a fancy word for this). Then they decided to do a camera pill endoscopy. I'm not good at swallowing pills so that was an anxiety producing procedure. I was able to swallow it and (possible TMI alert) saw the blinking flash of the camera after I passed it. That didn't show any definitive answer. The fatty liver doctor thought my bleeding might be due to anastomosis. I'm no doctor, but when I looked that word up, I decided that was probably <i>not</i> the problem. By the time my team finally got together and discussed this, they also decided that wasn't the problem, because the surgery had been done so long ago.<br />
<br />
By the time they arrived at the conclusion that this looked like dried blood (how can it be dry in such a wet environment?) my anemia had disappeared and I was back on track. They told me the blood could have been old, could have been from a hard stool, or severe diarrhea (again, maybe TMI for the average person). Keep in mind, I never saw any blood. I was anemic. They had to check it out. <br />
<br />
It's hard when these possibilities are being discussed, when it feels like they take so long to let the patient know what is going on. This patient has an active imagination and has to do a lot of pre-worrying, and is generally convinced that this will be the time they are going to come back and tell her she's a goner for sure.<br />
<br />
The patient firmly believes she finally got a direct answer from the fatty liver doctor because, after sending several patiently polite emails, she sent an email saying she assumed this was not a matter that need to be taken care of in a timely manner. Patient also mentioned that she was having trouble quelling her anxiety about that might be happening with her body.<br />
<br />
Also, this patient loosened up on her healthy eating habits and was not as active as she had been. To be fair, the holidays are a challenge to most of us when it comes to trying to keep healthy habits. Additionally, this patient is sure everyone has noticed the entire world seems to be in a dark place right now. The patient might have spent a moment or two wondering "what's the point?"<br />
<br />
I read somewhere about a hockey coach/player who had colon cancer. He was going through chemo and had decided he'd had quite enough. But he talked it over with his wife and he thought about how it was for him with hockey—when down 7-1, he still played to the end. That's what I want to remember, to play to the end. I sat around a little too much and I ate far too many sweets over the holidays (and before, if I am honest). I got discouraged and thought I'd never get to this five year mark, thought "They" would always find something else. Yet, here I am, having made it. And now I need to remember that even if I am down 7-1, I need—I want—to play to the end. The sad thing is, I've never actually even been down 7-1! That problem has always been only in my head, a product of my over-active and melodramatic imagination!<br />
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<br />
Today I was grateful and maybe a bit surprised when they told me I was ready to move to survivor care. I no longer have to do yearly CT scans and I only need to do colonoscopies every five years. <br />
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I came out with mixed feelings. I have a colonoscopy scheduled for April. I still need to work on getting back on the eating healthier and exercising regularly wagon. I still have several years of mammograms to get through before I'm ready for survivor care with breast cancer.<br />
<br />
I felt whiny, felt like I was saying in my head, <b><i>but</i></b><i>, I still have all these other things hanging over my head. </i>It's true. I have that and more hanging over my head. <b>BUT</b>, the word I need to use is not "but," it's <b>AND. </b><br />
<br />
I'm still working on my breast cancer issues. I still need to work on building stronger bones. <b>AND</b>, I am a five year colon cancer survivor. anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-81140503456216122322019-12-19T13:11:00.001-05:002019-12-19T13:12:08.850-05:00That Time My Younger Self VisitedI'm doing a project that is designed to foster a mindful beginning to the coming year. One of today's assignments was to draw a map of a neighborhood you lived in. As I was drawing my map, this memory floated to the surface and I wanted to write a bit about it all. It's still such a visceral memory/experience. <br />
<br />
We moved from this neighborhood the summer
before my 4th grade year. They were buying everyone out so they could sell or tear down the small frame houses and build bigger homes. It was a move up for our family, to be sure. But my mother mourned this move deeply. We often went back by to see if our little house was gone. One day it was gone and there was an empty lot. Sometime later, a nice brick home stood in the place where our little frame home had stood. The home where we hung out on the porch to wait for my father to come home after work. The home that had a heater with a vent in the floor that kind of scared me. It could have swallowed any of us up if we'd stepped wrong and fallen. Maybe I thought the devil lived down in there? It was also the home that heralded the arrival of my younger sister and brother. My first "best friend" lived across the street. The place itself, the land where our house was, holds many sweet family memories. <br />
<br />
The neighborhood is not that far away. One day
I was in the area and had time to kill so I drove by. All but one of the older homes
have been torn down and new homes are on most of the old lots.<br />
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I circled
around to the back of where our house was. That lot was empty so I
stopped there. I was in a meditative mood and looking across to the
gully when a young girl appeared, as though she had crossed the gully
from our old backyard. It was like seeing a young doe in the woods. We
were both a little unsure of what we were seeing and maybe we were both a little wary. But our eyes met
and I knew she was my younger self. The vision lasted only a few moments
longer. It was such a sweet communion. I felt so loved and at peace
afterwards. I cried. Tears well up as I write this now.<br />
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anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-58527126488744351642019-12-08T12:41:00.001-05:002019-12-08T12:41:45.566-05:00Rambling Sunday ThoughtsIt's been eight years today since we lost our son. It's hard to believe it's actually been that long.<br />
<br />
On Friday, I went to the Student Art Sale and bought two pieces of pottery. I've been pondering how much long I will keep this ritual/collection going. The rituals of grief do change during the years and it may be time to let this particular ritual go. Life seems to be an ongoing process of figuring out what works for you, noticing when the thing you figured out is no longer working for you, and then adjusting your course accordingly. I've been really deep in that work lately, though I'm not sure I am making any measurable progress. <br />
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<br />
I kept this piece for my desk at home. It's holding a portion of my various colorful pens I'll be using in my planner/journal. I'm trying to color code things. Sometimes the different colors seem chaotic to me. Color choices in my planner/journal doesn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. It's one of those distractions that I need to dig a little deeper into, and ask myself a few questions. For one thing, what more complicated or difficult task or decision am I avoiding by spending so much of my time and energy on choosing colors for my planner/journal?<br />
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<br />
When I first considered choosing this piece, it reminded me of one of those beehive drawings that show the hive hanging from the tree. Looking at it now, it also reminds me of the pot my mother used for baking beans! I think she probably still has that old pot.<br />
<br />
I looked up <i>beehive symbolism</i> and found <a href="https://www.jcf.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=27&t=1729" target="_blank">this</a>. It's more about bees than beehives and I'm too lazy to dig any deeper into the accuracy of the sentiment but I like it very much and aspire to be more like the honey bee in my own way thinking. Lord knows, we certainly have enough (too many?) ants and spiders in our current world. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>The other mention of bees comes from Frances Bacon (1561-1626). He uses a
parable of the ant, the spider, and the honey bee to describe the best
method of attaining knowledge. </b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>
The ant, he says, works hard, collects data, and makes a big pile of
data. The spider takes the substance from within and constructs a
beautiful web - a pure theorist with little regard for empirical
evidence. <br />
<br />
Bacon claims that we philosophers should not be like the ant or the
spider, but like the honey bee that goes out and collects data, mixes it
in with his own inner substance, and then spits it out to build a
gorgeous honeycomb of knowledge. </b></blockquote>
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<br />
We brought Christmas flowers yesterday. I like the basic arrangement but felt like I could have used some ribbons or bows around the base of the arrangement. I'll tuck that idea away in my little head for future times.<br />
<br />
Flowers and hair, I am no good at arranging either. I suppose I am learning as I go. I've figured out to handle my hair. I go to bed with it wet and let it arrange it's own self. I'm sad that I've been forced to learn to arrange flowers for my son's grave. That's one trick I never would have bothered learning on my own. <br />
<br />
Circling back around to Frances Bacon, I found his quote <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/170799-the-men-of-experiment-are-like-the-ant-they-only" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="quoteText">
<h1 class="quoteText">
<span style="font-size: small;">“The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect and
use; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their own
substance. But the bee takes the middle course: it gathers its material
from the flowers of the garden and field, but transforms and digests it
by a power of its own.”
</span></h1>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<b>―
<span class="authorOrTitle">
Francis Bacon</span></b></span></div>
</blockquote>
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-7634104228850421792019-08-10T14:28:00.003-05:002019-08-10T14:29:14.284-05:00Seeing the Good, For a BitFor several years now, I've known about and lusted for a Traveler's Notebook to use when I journal. Some of them are expensive (and that's the ones I liked best) and I was never able to justify the money on something as seemingly trivial as a notebook. Plus, I didn't know for sure what size I wanted and since it was such an investment, I did <i>not</i> want to take a chance on being wrong!<br />
<br />
Then I discovered a group on Facebook where they bought and sold the brand I wanted. The first one that popped up at a price I was willing to pay was the larger pink one in the picture. Someone had tried to decorate it with ink circles and splats and didn't use permanent ink. I expressed my interest and ordered it. Then I began to sweat bullets because the owner had put a sticker on the front (that I did not want to keep on it). I'd asked her if she would remove the sticker so I could see how bad it was underneath. Although she said in her original posting there was no damage to the leather under the sticker, she wouldn't remove the sticker for me, saying she didn't want to damage anything. So while I waited for my shipment to arrive, I imagined how ugly whatever that sticker was hiding was and chided myself for being so foolish as to purchase the darn notebook (<i>years,</i> I tell you, <i>years</i> I looked at these notebooks*). But it was love at first sight when the notebook arrived. I carefully pulled the sticker off and what was revealed was nowhere near as bad as what I had imagined (isn't that so often the case?).<br />
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On that <i>very same day,</i> the smaller pink one was listed. I ordered that one too (though I had no idea what I was going to actually do with it)! This one was very new and had no blemishes on it. That made me nervous (and still does).<br />
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The green one was listed about a week later and I decided I needed that one too. I'm using it for a wallet and that is working out very well.<br />
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What I like about buying used is that they notebook already has a bit of character to it. I don't have to worry about protecting it like I do with the pink one. I really doubt I'd ever buy one brand new for that reason.<br />
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So I've been busy writing and doing collages and other things for my own entertainment in these notebooks. It's therapeutic!<br />
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The pages in the larger book are long and narrow, so I am somewhat limited as to what I can do in the notebook, but I do enjoy adding color here and there. This is a page I did not long ago.<br />
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The quote is "What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?" (E.M. Forster)<br />
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* When we were first married, I found some bedroom furniture that I wanted. We couldn't afford it at the time, and I visited my furniture at Sears many times. There was one old guy who would always come and try to sell the set to me. I told him I wasn't ready to buy just yet, but when I did, I would be sure and ask for him (at the time, my husband was selling and getting commission so I wanted this guy to get the commission, if there was any). I'd go look, come home and measure our teeny-tiny bedroom and ponder just how many pieces I could fit in the room.<br />
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The day finally came that we were ready to buy. My husband and I went together to Sears. We got there, and asked for the salesman who'd been so patient with all my looking. Poor guy had up and died on me! Another salesman got lucky that day. I hope he breathed a silent thanks to the other salesman. <br />
<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-65764510604339712652019-06-22T20:25:00.003-05:002019-06-22T20:27:24.473-05:00Therapeutic RamblingsLast weekend I was in Houston. I thought sure I was going to be told I had osteoporosis (the doctor <i>told</i> me that was what was going to happen). I had myself a big plan to build bone density. I made a list and a check off chart and everything. I kept up with the list and the chart for a few days but somewhere along the way I totally fell off the wagon. I quit caring if I even tried to exercise or watch what I ate.<br />
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My bone density results are essentially the same as the last time I was scanned. I see that as an opportunity for me to straighten up and fly right. But I haven't straightened up.<br />
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(An eerie window photo taken in Houston of mannequins who looked to be made of ceramic.) </div>
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Today I spent the day with my mother, my sister, and my aunt. We went to a couple of estate sales, timing our visits so we could get the 50% discount. Tomorrow the discount will be 75% but you're taking a risk in waiting if there is something you <i>really</i> want. <br />
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On one hand, I find going to estate sales fun and interesting. There are bargains to be had. Perhaps bargains on things you didn't know you needed, but still, bargains. I found a London Fog rain/trench coat with a removable lining. I'd been looking for something like that for a while but didn't want to pay the prices I'd seen. This one cost me $7.50. I'd also been looking for a used typewriter that worked and I found one today, an electric one, for $12.50. I want to use it to type things for collage work. The thing I found that I didn't know I needed was a four foot level with a ruler along one of the sides. Weirdo that I am, levels have always appealed to me. I have a couple of smaller ones...somewhere. I've played with the one on my phone. I'll use this one to keep track of the poles on my quilting to frame to make sure they are level.<br />
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On the other hand, there is something sad about seeing people digging through the detritus of a deceased person. I noticed it is often times older people who are looking for the treasures. Surely they have already accumulated enough of their own stuff? I know I have, and I don't know how to defend myself from my own complaint. Except maybe to say there is something virtuous in buying used goods? I'm there, digging for my own treasures, even as I look at the others with pity and wonder what empty spot they are trying to fill by buying things they didn't know they needed until they saw them at the estate sale.<br />
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One of the sales we went to today was that of a family member of the company my father worked for all of his adult working life. They were a kind couple as far as I've ever heard. I'd been around them as a child at company picnics. She gave us a lovely Martha Washington bedspread for our wedding. I still have it...somewhere. In fact, I'd seen in the pictures posted of items for the sale that there was one for sale. Briefly I thought about hoping to buy it if the price was right. Hers was pristine as the day it was purchased. Why do we (some of us) think we need <i>things</i> to remind us of special moments and the generosity of people around us? I'd like to be better at letting go of the physical reminders. Too often those reminders become clutter that weighs us down.<br />
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I bought the London Fog coat from their sale. I can wear that and remember those two people who I did not know well, but who left indelible marks on my family simply because my father worked for him for so many years.<br />
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He was the first to die.<br />
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I bought the typewriter from their sale. There was a paper in the typewriter. The words said something about the typewriter needing assistance. There was a note that the "X" key had gotten stuck but it had released itself. We laughed because we thought another customer had plugged the typewriter in to see if it worked and left the notes for future customers. I kept the note. I thought I'd paste into my journal, my own bit of detritus from the day.<br />
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But when I got home, I had time to read the rest of the note. Here is what it said:<i> </i><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>I'm glad to have uncovered the typewriter and need to plan to use it more.</i></blockquote>
I'd tell myself I was glad to have uncovered the typewriter and that I needed to plan to use it more.<br />
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But then, this (as typed, she mentioned elsewhere that her skills were rusty):<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Now, howdvdr, I need to get some supper ready, and then go to the Guardian House to see Bill.</i> </blockquote>
I see a poignant glimpse of love. And I feel their loss, as I have felt my own loss.<br />
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What I have learned, what I continue to learn, is that fear of loss is no reason to run from love. <br />
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-80989451278057212222019-06-03T21:29:00.001-05:002019-06-22T19:07:28.746-05:0052 Weeks AprilI got a new laptop several months back. I chose not to have "The People" transfer all my documents and photos over from the old laptop. I did it myself. I also bought a second external hard drive because I was afraid the old one wasn't going to work on the new laptop. It did and now I have my stuff scattered hither, thither, and beyond.<br />
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All of that is to offer my excuse for not having put up my March 52 Weeks pages. I thought I saved them somewhere but I can't find them now and I'm just too less of caring to photograph them again. So what we have here are my April pages.<br />
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-29481087380072674772019-03-27T19:55:00.000-05:002019-03-27T19:55:41.777-05:0052 Weeks FebruaryI'm a little slow posting February's weeks. I'm keeping up with this fairly well. I'm also working on consistency in my health goals. I need to work a little harder on those.<br />
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I've had a lot of dental work done during February. You can see evidence of that in weeks 6 and 8. The work is continuing into March. Things will (hopefully) be finished up this month. <br />
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I'm still working on learning how to use my quilting machine. I've had a little trouble that I hope to resolve this coming weekend. <br />
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-15931660782534921312019-03-12T21:32:00.000-05:002019-03-12T21:32:37.424-05:00Spring Haiku and Dem Bones<div style="text-align: center;">
One lonely azalea</div>
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blooming where she is planted</div>
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harbinger of spring</div>
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At one time, I had a redbud tree in our front yard that was my harbinger of spring. Sadly, we had to cut it down. This weekend when I saw this single bloom on our (huge) azalea bush, I was reminded that spring is indeed on her way to us.</div>
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I've been working on my "build bone density" plan. I have a chart and every day I fill in the square on the things that I have done on my list. I've had to accept that I'll never do it perfectly and that just because I won't do it perfectly does not mean I should sit down and not even try. On some days, that is the temptation--to sit. This feels like an uphill battle and I am working on climbing that hill.<br />
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I've talked with our wellness person at work. She is helping me set up a strength training routine. I"m grateful to have that resource. I'm often surprised that more people around me do not take advantage of the various things the wellness person can help with. I'm doing that twice a week and hope to soon move up to three times a week.</div>
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Since we've switched to daylight savings time, I'm trying to walk 30 minutes 5 times a week (wellness lady's "prescription"). That gets me the 150 active minutes recommended by whoever recommends stuff like that! I <i>may</i> get back to playing tennis. It's been so long. I am afraid I won't have the stamina needed to play three sets (or 30 minutes, whichever comes first), much less do <i>three</i> 30 minute rounds.<br /><br /></div>
anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-76477024630249257452019-02-10T21:54:00.000-05:002019-02-10T21:59:15.207-05:00Bumps in the RoadIt's my birthday month. January was my checkup month (the first one of 2019, there will be more). For a month now, I have been pondering the news I was given at my last visit. The medicine I take to protect me from recurrence of breast cancer causes low bone density. I do not (yet) have osteoporosis but I do have osteopenia. They want to start me on bone medicine. The doctor (bone expert) prefers Prolia injections. He made it all sound so safe and simple. I resent him not being forthcoming with me. I want to give him "what for" and tell him how rushed I felt when I saw him. I wish I'd seen him before I saw my breast people. I feel like she would have taken time to talk things out with me. She did call me back after I left a message but the phone call felt rushed too. <br />
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I've been looking around and that stuff comes with some heavy duty (possible) side effects. Maybe none of them will affect me. But if they do, it could be debilitating. I think the truth of the matter is the people recommending this stuff do not really know what all it can do or how long it stays in your system. It does seem to help increase bone density. I mean, it's made from something in the ovaries of genetically engineered Chines hamsters, what could go wrong?<br />
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I've joined a Facebook group of people who have been on the injections or are considering the injections. Someone on the group mentioned dried plums (prunes) being good for building bone density. The study <i>was</i> sponsored by the plum folks so I'm taking it all with a grain of salt. But I have a little time before I have to decide what to do. I have a few options. None of them are all that great. For now, I believe I'm going to try the prunes (6-8 per day, a nice sweet little snack!), and get back with my regular walking program, along with a few other helpful things. We'll see how it goes.<br />
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The thing is, what good will it do me to not have a recurrence of breast cancer if I am laid down by this medicine? Granted, maybe that won't happen to me. Maybe it will all be just fine. But <i>if it's not</i>, what then? I've said I don't know how to make this decision. I've talked to a few friends. My GP is not at all alarmed by the prospect and praised Prolia. I have an appointment next week with our wellness nurse at work. I've laid things out for her in an email. I just want to talk about possible consequences of my choices.<br />
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This has been a discouraging development. I feel a bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter. I probably can't ignore osteoporosis but maybe I can live with osteopenia a little longer. The bone doctor says I'll likely have osteoporosis in six months.<br />
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I came across this Thoughtograph/thang when I was transferring files from my old laptop to my new one (let me say I now understand why they want a hundred bucks to transfer files over from old to new). I feel as uncertain as I have ever felt in this journey. <br />
<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-70634134503049683322019-01-31T21:30:00.000-05:002019-01-31T21:30:57.525-05:0052 Weeks JanuarySomething new I'm trying this year: a (more or less) daily collage that I do in an old calendar. When the week is over, the page is finished. I'm going to try and post each month as I complete them. We shall see how that goes. Maybe this will mean I will at least post something here once a month?<br />
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Week One</div>
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Week Two </div>
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Week Three</div>
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Week Four</div>
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-35038709121382083702019-01-14T22:16:00.002-05:002019-01-14T22:16:37.292-05:00In This Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When you look up from writing in your journal and it feels like</div>
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you're looking at a tiny abstract work of art</div>
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and all it is is</div>
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the inside of a security envelope with paint slapped on</div>
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and mounted on an ordinary paint chip from the hardware store.</div>
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Add the smell of the lilac candle,</div>
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and just for a moment or two, </div>
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you wonder how life could get any sweeter than right now,</div>
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in this moment.</div>
anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-17941331155585091532019-01-01T11:04:00.001-05:002019-01-14T22:17:01.504-05:00Bucket List Item Procured!One of the biggest surprises for me in 2018 was my purchase of a used quilting machine. It all came about in what felt like a magical way. I'd only been looking and dreaming about owning a quilting machine for over 20 years. Every once in a while I'd check online listings for machines. On this one day, I decided I'd check Facebook Marketplace. I saw a new listing for a complete setup, and it was located in my area. The price was good. I contacted the seller and we went to take a look at everything. The machine belonged to his mother, who had died over a year ago. It had been sitting in an empty house all that time. There were a few less than perfect spot. Dogs had chewed on the wooden frame. Rodents had chewed the power cord for the machine. In spite of those few issues, I fell in love.<br />
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We heard more of the story from the son. His mother had purchased the setup at a Houston Quilt Show (several years back). For a couple of reasons (one of them being that she got sick), she never got the chance to actually use the machine. I wanted a little time to research the machine and the frame, and to check reviews for possible issues with the machine. I told him I'd let him know in a couple of days if I wanted the machine. He'd only had one other person come to look at the machine and she'd decided it was too heavy for her to manage.<br />
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I knew I was entering a personal danger zone because the guy was <i>nice</i>, he had a sweet family, and I was in his mother's house with loads of evidence of her craftiness (thread! fabrics! yarn! patterns! loads of stuff!) <i>and</i> I was hearing this sweet woman's stories--and identifying with her. I needed a little space to keep myself from saying I'd take all the things for no other reason than there was a sweet story involved! So I went home to think about it. I dreamed about it and dug around on the internet for more information. I called a couple of days later to tell him I wanted it. I'd asked for a reduction in price, and we "met in the middle" on that request. In retrospect, I could have been less enthusiastic and waited another week or two. By then he might have wanted to pay me to take it off his hands! But I didn't want to stick it to him, and he didn't want to stick it to me. We both got a fair deal.<br />
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We picked most of the equipment up the day after Thanksgiving. When I started putting things back together I noticed a few (important!) things missing. For instance, the presser foot was nowhere to be found. Twice, he texted me back to let me know he'd found more things that went with the machine, including the missing presser foot!<br />
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Over my Christmas break, I worked on putting everything back together. I watched my DVDs on how to load the quilt and adjust the machine. I had a DVD for the machine and a DVD for the frame. Both DVDs had differing instructions for loading the quilt. It took me several tries (and left me with sore and pin pricked fingers) to get the practice fabric loaded. Loading the quilt is the most important and time consuming part of the whole deal. I had a few mishaps with the practice fabric, one of them being that I kept forgetting to put the blankety blank presser foot down! I've used sewing machines all my life. This was a mistake I ought not to have been making!<br />
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I finished my practice piece and decided to "go big or go home" so I loaded one of my quilt tops on the frame. Sure enough, I forgot to put the presser foot down a couple of times. I had to rip those stitches out and begin again. But it all worked out and I was able to complete my first actual quilt top! There is only one small area that should have had a little more quilting because I'd....wait for it...forgotten to put the presser foot down and didn't realize it until I took the quilt off the frame. I'll fix that in some less than perfect way. The good news is, the machine tries to tell me when the presser foot is up and I'm learning to recognize that sound sooner rather than later. I'll get into a very precise order of action that will help me remember to put the presser foot down. Everything is so new at this point and there are <i>so</i> many details to remember before starting to quilt.<br />
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I'm going to name her, the machine, but I haven't thought of anything yet. I thought about naming her after the original owner but that seems a little weird.<br />
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She's not the latest and greatest model but she is simple and easy to maintain. She's also surprisingly easy to maneuver! I have a stitch regulator, but alas, the rodents chewed the cords on that too. For now, I am learning to regulate my own stitches. Maybe one day I'll see if someone can fix the cords for me. Or maybe not.<br />
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This room was a bedroom added on to my grandparents' house. A couple years ago, my uncle and cousin detached the room from the house, pushed a trailer underneath the room and hauled it up to our property. My grandmother kept her quilting frames in this room. She would have been tickled pink to see this setup and to know I am sewing in the same space she sewed in.<br />
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The red strip is the side border of the quilt. The purple is near the top. The edges are the hardest part for me to sew right now. There is too much thinking involved and I tend to slow down, which messes up the stitches. But practice will bring progress!<br />
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And here is my first completed machine quilted quilt! All that is left to do is to put on the binding. My time ran out so that project will be waiting for me when I return.<br /><br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-24195704807013645692018-11-08T21:24:00.004-05:002018-11-08T21:24:56.435-05:00Haunting Questions of October<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Butterflies do not seem to be skittish creatures. I wonder how high they can actually fly. This one would dip down to the flowers and flit about, then soar up above the trees before coming back again. He/she looked like he/she was soaring joyfully. I enjoyed watching. How do they know how to adjust for wind speed? I'm not sure I really want to know. If I did, I could easily ask Google for the answers. </div>
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That's <i>not</i> one of my haunting questions! Earlier this month, an online person asked me to tell them about my art. The question has been haunting me ever since. First of all, art. Me? Yes, me. Art!</div>
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All I <i>really</i> know is "...the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best." (Henry Van Dyke)</div>
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Another haunting question came up when of the instructors at work casually mentioned to me that I was very creative and she enjoyed seeing some of the things I did (when I posted them on Facebook). We talked a bit about the joys of being creative and she told me about jewelry she was working on, and how she was learning to improve her skills through videos, and Skype with an instructor. That's a sad thing about wanting to learn more about an art process, when you can't find anyone or anywhere to learn more about it in person. The internet is handy for a lot of things but sometimes you just want a flesh and blood instructor standing in front of you, helping you along.<br />
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As we talked, the question that came up was<i> "what are you working on now?" </i><br />
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I don't really have answers to either question at the moment. I'm okay with that. At the moment.anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-29236713066505735502018-10-21T16:09:00.001-05:002018-10-21T16:09:08.821-05:00Images From the Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I can't remember how many years it's been since I found this bottle in the woods. The things inside are whiter than they once were. It stays on my porch, a reminder that there is so much about the world I do not know.<br />
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This is just a rusty piece of tin. It may end up being a texture in one of my photographs. You can see pieces of a clay pot on the ground there. I have an asparagus fern in a pot that had a rough time last winter. I thought it was a goner. The fern has slowly grown back. The pot is barely holding together.<br />
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Here is one of my favorite places to sit and collect my wits. I was swinging here using my phone to film a slow motion video. The video turned out to be mostly a bore, save for two leaves I caught leisurely floating down to the ground in slow motion. I tried to walk around and film another one where the leaves were more prominent in the video. Mother Nature is fickle. I walked all the over the yard, standing and waiting for leaves to fall. I was in my slippers and the ground was damp from last night's rain. So all I got for my effort was wet feet.<br />
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And the realization that those two leaves will never fall again. <br /><br />And that the light falling on my prayer flags pictured below will never quite fall the same way again.<br />
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Yet, new leaves will grow, and fall. And light will still shine. We can hold this hope in the dead of winter, and in the darkness of long nights.<br />
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This swing is a "gratitude spot" for me. The porch is attached to a room that was originally attached to my grandparents' old house. When I sit here, I feel very close to my ancestors who have gone on before me.<br />
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Today I thought about my great grandmother, who lost a son in the war. He was buried in France, probably in an unmarked grave. I never knew him, but he was my uncle and his story is linked with my story. My great grandmother, my mother, and I all have in common the loss of our sons.<br />
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One of my prayer flags is a prayer for all who mourn. May all who mourn find peace and comfort and hope. <br />
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anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-142596197229526172018-08-30T19:28:00.000-05:002018-08-30T19:28:25.297-05:00GraceIt's been another while between posts. I'm not sure I have much of anything to say but I'm here, sitting quietly and waiting.<br />
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I have visuals.<br />
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The first was on campus during a rain. Our pathway floods too much when it rains. A foot could drown in this!<br />
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This second one shows all that is left of my grandparents' house. The poor old house was falling down and needed to be put out of its misery.<br />
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Life is sad sometimes.<br />
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Life is happy sometimes.<br />
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This week, someone died who had inflicted a lot of pain on people I love, on my family. He inflicted irreparable damage. He just about crushed the possibility of certain relationships growing strong. It's been hard, reading all the good things people are saying about him. But I've realized that just because my loved ones were victims of his hard heart, it didn't mean that that his heart was <i>entirely</i> hardened. I believe there is always at least a little bit of goodness in most people. Sometimes you have to look hard to find it, but most of the time, it can be found. If one looks hard enough. anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-29564532093856341442018-06-23T12:40:00.001-05:002018-06-23T12:41:53.085-05:00"Statistically Significant"Earlier this week I went to MD Anderson, where I did blood work and had a bone density scan. The medicine I am taking to protect me from the return of the breast cancer affects bone density (thanks, Arimidex). The medicine is "a hormonal treatment that helps fight breast cancer by lowing the amount of estrogen in the body." Estrogen is rather necessary for strong bones.<br />
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My "statistically significant" numbers had not moved in the direction I'd hoped they would move. So I will return in six months to see My Colon People and My Breast People. I will see My Liver People, including the Livid Liver Lady, in April. Gosh, I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. I will also have to forge a new relationship with The Bone People. I'm sure they are friends I haven't met yet. <br />
<br />
My PA told me she has seen women increase their bone density. She made suggestions. The last thing I told her was that I felt like a challenge had been issued.<br />
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Deep inside I am disappointed and discouraged. The odds are stacked against me. I've done a lot of reading about ways to increase bone density (you sure can find a lot of quack-a-doodles when you search for health issues/solutions). For me to expect a positive change as soon as six months is probably not realistic. One might be inclined to think "Why bother? I'm fighting a losing battle." I am<i> not</i> that one.<br />
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I'm positive I'm not the first cancer patient caught between a rock and a hard place. I <i>could </i>choose
to go off the Arimidex. Plenty of women have done so because of
intolerable side effects. One night I woke up due to pain in both of my
hands. That pain comes and goes. Lots of times it feels like I've caught
a fast thrown hard ball without a glove. I decided I could live with
that. <br />
<br />
Closer to the surface, I am feeling hopeful. I know I need a plan. I will need to set goals, track my progress, and actually <i>meet </i>those goals. I can't afford to be lackadaisical about this. I need to charge full on at this beast. The doing is the hard part. I have ideas on what I could do. I'm already doing a lot of the right things. I need to be more intentional with those actions. I've brainstormed and written a list of ideas to help myself improve my health. Just need to keep on moving toward better health. <br />
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<b>“The most effective way to do it is to do it.”</b> <i>--Amelia Earhart</i> </blockquote>
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-11366028072369149402018-06-20T22:02:00.001-05:002018-06-20T22:02:12.434-05:00Still KickingSomeone said something today about something I should write a blog post about. I'd been wanting to come here again and so I took that something they said as a message from the Universe.<br />
<br />
But I can't remember exactly what it was we were talking about.<br />
<br />
I'm still dealing with The Cancer (everything is going relatively well on that front).<br />
<br />
I've still been sewing and putting together quilt tops that need to be finished. <br />
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I'm taking swimming lessons, again, through the Wellness Program at work. I believe I might be a perpetually remedial student. I could swim if I didn't have to breathe.<br />
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I've begun walking again. I bought a Fitbit and I try to move more. I'm working on better eating habits. That will be a never ending project. I suppose all of it is a never ending project, in that I will never arrive at that place where I do it all perfectly. And then one day, I'll be gone. What will become of my never ending project?<br />
<br />
What will remain undone?<br />
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What kind of mess will I leave behind for someone else to finish or clean up?anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-87604006460840884972018-03-17T14:18:00.000-05:002018-03-17T14:18:04.604-05:00It's A Mundane Cycle, Y'all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been back to see my livid liver lady. It seems my liver enzymes are normal at this time, and I have a hemangioma on my liver. I go back in a year. I think it's the physician's expectation that all will be well at that time and I can "fire" him. He will be the second physician I've "fired" on this journey. I know it's a good thing. I'm grateful for their expertise, that's for sure.<br />
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When I go back to the colon oncologist in April, they may be moving me to what they call aftercare, which will be mostly a matter of continuing monitoring, only maybe not as intense (I've been to MDA for one thing or another every month since December). Though I will miss my colon oncologist and his PA, this is movement in a positive direction.<br />
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I told someone that one of the gifts of my cancer has been the heightened awareness of my limited time in this life. We all know, on an intellectual level, that we are walking around under a big hammer and we never know when it's going to fall. Our time is limited but most of the time we don't even think about that. I've been trying to reevaluate myself and my life in light of my health issues. I know I've grown. I've discovered I'm stronger than I thought. I have progressed.<br />
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But I'm not entirely satisfied with where I am. I want more, and I can't seem to pin down what "more" would look like <i>for me</i>. Some of the things I want, some of the ways I want to <i>be</i>, I'm not sure those things are me. I'd like to be more disciplined, for instance. I <i>say</i> I'd like to have familiar and dependable routines. I <i>do</i> have routines, they just aren't exactly routines I'd like to brag on! I want <i>better</i> routines.<br />
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Honestly, I have to ask myself, is a better routine what I really want for myself, or am I just comparing myself to other friends who are almost anally routine and thinking I fall short? I have a friend who reminds me that it's all about "the direction of correction."<br />
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But then again, since I am relatively undisciplined, with irregular routines, I am naturally more flexible. Flexibility is good, right? <br />
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I've heard people say that dealing with cancer has caused them to look at their lives, to measure their time better, to drill down to what's really important to them. In that process, some things naturally fall away. I've been thinking along these lines, but I haven't really drilled down, and I don't think I've let much of anything actually fall away. Or if I did, it was something I needed and wanted, like my walking.<br />
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I did recently begin again with my walking routine. I'm slow getting back at it. That's okay, because I am learning I can sometimes reset and begin again. We all can. All it takes is some determination and persistence! Yes! It's easy...not! But what else is there? Do I want to sit and criticize myself for what I have not done or accomplished, or for not being what I think I want to be? I don't know.<br />
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("You can begin again" is a message from my
better self, assuring me I can begin again, putting the idea in my head. "I can begin again" is a "duh, I <i>can</i> begin again" thought from some other part of me. What? You don't have a committee in your head? It's a pity! "We can begin again" is a general reminder that we all can begin again, and in some areas right now in our world, it's obvious that we need to somehow begin again. "We can begin again" is also somewhat of an admonishment for me.<br />
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Oh dear, now I'm going down another rabbit trail. I attended part of a presentation on dealing with an active shooter on campus (yes, it was sobering). The officer talking said there were three ways we might react, or maybe we'd do all three. Some would be in denial, thinking it wasn't shots they heard, or thinking they could reason with the shooter. Some would deliberate and think too long about what to do. And others would quickly put together a plan and execute it as well as they could. I was listening and trying to imagine which person I'd be (even though I firmly believe none of us civilian types know for sure what we would do under those circumstances). When he said some of us might have to channel our inner wolf and act off of our indignation over someone daring to do this to us, and to our coworkers, that's when I thought, "uh-oh, that does not bode well for me." I'm not good at confronting others about being rude to me. How am I going to confront an armed man? Because, in that case, assertiveness might be the thing that saves me and others around me. While it is a shame that we have to be playing out these scenarios and planning our actions, it good to try and develop a plan before the disaster hits. I guess what I'm saying is there may be times when I need to stand up for others. And I need to be strong enough to do that.<br />
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This is rambling, and I'm about to run out of room so I'll have to hush for now. I think there's another story from this but it will have to wait for another day (or another month, if my recent writing pattern is any indication.)<br />
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Maybe I think too much and do too little?anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-50913872112463004182018-02-10T16:51:00.002-05:002018-02-10T16:51:49.913-05:00There's Something I Want to Say(and this is not it. Not really. I'll have to think more on what it is I really want to say. In the meantime, there is this.) <br />
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I'm here to get my once a month post in early.<br />
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I've been to Houston for a checkup. My radiology oncologist has bowed out. He says I no longer need him. I liked him a lot so I'll miss seeing him. He always came in and shook our hands then sat down and made eye contact with me while he talked. He was reassuring and matter of fact. On the way home, I thought about how the doctor we see on our cancer journey becomes the favorite one, the one in whom we place our trust. And sometimes, we forget that there is a whole gol-darned team behind that doctor, a team that is helping to make (and keep) us well. I breathed a silent "thank you" to my radiology team. I won't ever know all of their names but nonetheless I am deeply appreciative of their efforts.<br />
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I'll still have to see another member of the team because of the medicine I take and the possible side effects. My radiology oncologist told me that people were keeping a good eye on me, with blood tests and CT scans and X-rays. Because it seems like "your body likes to make these things." I suppose I won't fuss about the fact that I'm traveling to Houston one time in each of the first four months of 2018, since they are keeping a good eye on me. I hope after April that I will be able to go less frequently.<br />
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I've had my birthday. It's always good to know I made it through another year!<br />
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It's Mardi Gras season around here, which means I'll be off for Monday through Wednesday of next week. It's raining now and rain is predicted into next week. I'm not planning on getting out in any of it. Not in this weather.<br />
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Things are somewhat depressing around here. It's probably a combination of the weather and the general situation in our country and the world right now. But I've had a couple of reminders this morning that there is still plenty of good in the world and that's the part I want to pay attention to. I want to be one of the good ones, in whatever way I can.<br />
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Today would have been my grandmother's I don't know whatieth birthday. I think about her a lot when I am sewing and quilting. <br />
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Well, that's it for now. I can think of nothing else to say. And I have no recent pictures to share. anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-79689122923085492502018-01-28T22:14:00.000-05:002018-01-28T22:14:11.835-05:00Decay All AroundCasualties of winter—the pot may be a goner, but spring will return and maybe the fern will too. It's been such a unusually cold winter this year. I was so happy not to be cold this weekend! <br />
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And my prayer flags that I made in July of 2015 are showing their age. Leaving them out to rot is an exercise in letting go, which doesn't come easy for me. It also seems like we/I need prayers like these more than ever.<br />
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"Be Well," my hope always, and my prayer for my sister. Hope, that thing with feathers that is often hard to hold. I have to include here friend Cyn's encouragement from the time I posted these when they were brand new, "The assault on hope doesn't mean hope is down. Hope is an evergreen. Hope is your shadow. Hope is a forever friend." That's the kind of thing I need to hear often these days.<br />
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"Breathe," "Light," "Love," breathe light and love? Breathe? Be light? Spread love? The cotton is fading and fraying.<br />
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"Peace to all who mourn." Over the holidays, I knew of a couple of families who were mourning. May peace come to them. </div>
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The first flag in line is "Joy." Joy might have been the first one I made.<br />
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Some have suggested it's time for new flags. I say, "not yet." Let's watch these slowly wither and die. <br />
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I'm so ready for spring to arrive. <br />
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<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-35788543043808127622018-01-17T12:55:00.001-05:002018-01-17T14:55:16.233-05:00When You Fall, Get Up and Begin Again(Warning: This is long, probably boring, and could certainly be classified as navel gazing (at it's finest?)! But I kind of needed to clear up the fog I've been in for the last month or so.) <br />
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The week before we were to be off for Christmas break, I had the flu. I worked two days before I finally admitted to myself that I was sick. Sick enough to see a doctor. I'd had the flu shot and thought I couldn't possibly have the flu. As I now know, that's entirely possible. I missed a day and a half during that week.<br />
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On the 15th, the last work day before the break, I was ready and looking forward to quiet times of reflection, reviewing and remembering 2017, and thinking about things I wanted to work toward in 2018.<br />
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We left that evening, heading out to our little place in the country. We stayed there until Thursday (the 21st). While I was there, I finished up a table runner I was making for my eldest daughter. She bought her first house last January and she was going to have us over for Christmas Eve gumbo.<br />
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This is the front of the table runner. The red border fabric was an estate sale purchase. The strips in the middle came from Tuesday Morning. </div>
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This is the back of the table runner. This is what happens when you don't plan so well and your top ends up being larger than the piece of fabric you wanted to use for your backing. You add a group of strips in the middle (or thereabouts) of the backing fabric and <span class="t"><span class="mw_t_qword">voilà, your piece of fabric is now good to go! </span></span><br />
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<span class="t"><span class="mw_t_qword">I was able to spend time with my journal and last year's planner, thinking about and writing about the blessings and the foibles of last year. I thought about the things I might like to focus on in the coming year. I made a list of possible words and themes for the year.</span></span><br />
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I get overwhelmed thinking about goals. I've about decided I'm just not a goal oriented person, and <i>maybe</i> <i>that's okay</i>. For <i>me.</i> I wonder why I write in journals and why I write here. I enjoy it, that's all. I remember once, at work, the faculty had to set measurable goals showing improvement in one of the areas they deal with. One of the professors said something like, "Do we have to be so specific? Can't we just point in the general direction and hope for the best?" I think that's a "best way" for me to deal with looking ahead and "planning" for the new year.<br />
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Anyhoo...I mostly decided that 2017 was an unremarkable year. There were a few things that stood out, a few blips in the road, but mostly, it was unremarkable.<br />
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We came home from the country on Thursday afternoon (21st). On Saturday (23rd), the wheels began to fall off. 2017 began to deliver on The Remarkable. My leg began to hurt. I couldn't stand without pain, I couldn't walk without pain, I couldn't sit without pain. I could not even lie flat in the bed without pain. I struggled through that day. Sunday morning (24th), when I tried unsuccessfully three times to walk to the kitchen to fix my coffee and eat a little breakfast, I decided I needed to get myself to a doctor if I didn't want to spend Christmas Eve and/or Christmas in the ER.<br />
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I have never been in so much miserable inescapable pain. I called my aunt to ask her to bring me to Urgent Care. She had to stay in the car because she has a compromised immune system and well... flu. I hobbled in and registered. I could not get comfortable. I knew I couldn't sit. So I did my best to get in a corner where I paced and hoped not to call attention to myself. I set my purse down on the floor to get rid of the excess weight. I discovered as I was bending over to set it down that if my left (hurting leg) was up off the ground a bit and my weight was on my right leg, the pain eased up a bit. So I stayed in that position for a bit. When I stood up and looked toward the waiting room, sure enough, there was a young man staring at me with a look of concern and morbid curiosity. Gah. I had become that person you could not <i>not</i> look at.<br />
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When they called me in, the lovely doctor decided she couldn't give me a steroid shot because my blood pressure was too high. Well, duh. I was h-u-r-t-i-n-g! I asked if I could sit and try to get it down but she decided she's give me a shot of something else and prescribe a steroid pak. But as she was going out the door, she said, "You're not diabetic, are you?" I told her I was taking medicine and my a1c is well managed and my regular doctor seems to mostly think of it as pre-diabetic but nope, she wasn't buying any of that. So she prescribed a pill you take once daily (and it can take up to two weeks to build up in your system). Can I tell you how helpful <i>that </i>was?<br />
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I made the effort and went to my daughter's house for Christmas Eve. I couldn't stay long. I hated that. I visited a bit, ate a little gumbo, and went back home to bed. I was hurting worse on Christmas Day and decided I just couldn't get up and go for Christmas. I've <i>never</i> missed a Christmas Day at my parents' house. It was sad. So Christmas came and went.<br />
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At some point after Christmas Day, I called my doctor and she sent out a steroid pak. I also started taking some leftover pain pills I had. They were prescribed to me and I checked with my pharmacist to make sure they were okay to take with my steroid pak. At that point, I was desperate for relief. I didn't quite trust myself to make the wisest choices for myself. Slowly, and I do mean slowly, I began to feel a little better. Meaning I could lie in the bed without involuntarily moaning and groaning in pain.<br />
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On New Year's Day, I felt good enough to go down to my parents' house and visit for a bit. Mostly I laid on the couch and they sat around while we talked. I'd get up for a bit and eat a bite, then I'd go back to horizontal. The visit brought me some happiness in spite of the pain.<br />
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I had an appointment with my doctor on the 5th. I called to see if I could get in earlier and I was able to go on the 3rd. She did an x-ray of my back and sent me home with two prescriptions. The x-ray showed arthritis in my back, which I already knew I had. She scheduled me for an MRI on the 12th.<br />
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In the meantime, work had started again on the 2nd. I was still unable to move much. I worked for a few hours on the 8th because I had paperwork to be done. I had appointments at MD Anderson on the 9th and 10th for a CT scan and checkups. I was walking a little better by then and fortunately I didn't have to do much walking for those two appointments.<br />
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The very excellent news from that trip was that my scans were clear and my tumor markers were normal. We visited with another patient while waiting for the CT scan. She and her husband both have cancer. One of them is terminal. But she talked about how people don't understand some of this unless they've been through it (or have helped someone close to them walk through it). Sometimes things start happening, and you can't help but wonder if those things are related to the cancer. I'd wondered for a bit if my leg pain was a sign of something new happening with the cancer. So I was more than usual grateful for the "all clear" news.<br />
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And that brought me to a sort of mantra/theme for the coming year: "begin again." I'd been seeing it in various places on the internet and in my reading. I'd gotten off track with my exercise and my eating. So, one of the things I am pointing in the "general direction" of this year is the idea that I can "begin again" to take better care of my body.<br />
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I think I worked Thursday (11th) and I came in after my MRI on Friday (12th). Then we had a long weekend for Martin Luther King Day. I laid around and recuperated some more. We were to return on the 16th, but we had a weather closure. I laid around and recuperated some more. We were to return on the 17th (today!), but we had a weather closure. Guess what? I am laying around again and recuperating some more!<br />
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The pain is less than what it was but it is still with me. The MRI shows a mild to moderate bulging disc. They are referring me to a pain management specialist. There is an injection that helps some people and not others. He will evaluate my situation to see if that might be helpful for me.<br />
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And now I have a few things to say to 2017 and 2018.<br />
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2017, seriously? That's the note you chose to leave on? Debilitating and unrelenting pain? Geez. That's how you want to be remembered? You just listen to me. I'm upset now. I'm angry. But I'm going to tell you right here, right now--you are more than pain. You're the year I went to the Houston Quilt Show. You're the year I made it through with all good reports from MDA. You're the year that brought so many good times with family and friends. You're the year I pulled out projects that were over 30 years old and I <i>finished</i> them.You are another year for which I can be grateful. But, good-bye, 2017. And yes, thank you.<br />
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2018, <i>seriously</i>? This is the first impression you want to leave on me? This is how you want our relationship to begin? In pain? You're just going to follow in the footsteps of 2017, and deliver up more pain? If 2017 went and jumped off the Calcasieu River Bridge, would you follow mindlessly along and do the same?? Let me tell <i>you</i> something, 2018. We <i>have</i> gotten off to a crappy start. But I'm feeling better. I have stumbled out of 2017 and I have fallen into you, 2018. And I'm feeling grateful. So we're going to grab hands (metaphorically speaking...<i>you</i> don't have hands...<i>I do</i>) and we're going to walk together. We're going to get to know each other and we're going to become dear friends, 2018. <br />
<br />anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9351429.post-69895726263511229652017-12-15T08:26:00.000-05:002017-12-15T08:26:54.253-05:00Remembrances<div data-contents="true">
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<span data-offset-key="dju0o-0-0"><span data-text="true"><b>(from our weekend, 12.08.17-12.10.17) </b></span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dju0o-0-0"><span data-text="true">Earlier in the week, a friend mentioned the possibility of snow over the weekend. There was none of the usual hype when there is a possibility of atypical weather events for us. I'd read it was going to snow around midnight (one hour), and again around two a.m. (for about two hours). That was a precise prediction. I doubted we'd see snow. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7o34b-0-0"><span data-text="true">My husband's alarm clock went off at 4:30 a.m. (long story). I woke up and told him I was going to the bathroom and then I was going to check to see if it was snowing. It was! I delighted! </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7o34b-0-0"><span data-text="true">This is the scene that greeted me that morning. And there was more! It snowed. It stuck. We were enveloped in the silence and the brilliance. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="7o34b-0-0"><span data-text="true">I took the photos below were taken after daylight arrived. I'd forgotten how satisfying it was to walk in crunchy snow. It was hard, leaving my footprints on the pristine ground. I had a little talk with myself, telling myself that the snow was a temporary experience. I admonished myself to enjoy it right now, in the present moment, accepting that it would all melt away. Like life itself. What, you don't have talks like that with yourself?</span></span></div>
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The snow arrived in the early morning of December 8. We were there in the woods to remember my son's death six years ago. The last texts and photos I received from him were about the snow and sharing the snowman he'd built. I still have them on my phone. He was in Pennsylvania at the time. I asked if he'd sent the photos to his sisters. This was the day before he died. I never got an answer. And now, here, six years later, we had snow on the anniversary of his death. </div>
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It felt to me like a gift. I was grateful. <br />
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anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14900362807680333144noreply@blogger.com4