Trip to Seattle: Day 2, Part 1

I kept my watch on Central Time, but since my cell phone switched automatically, I used it as my primary time-keeping device while in Seattle/Issaquah. I got up and worked in my travel journal a little, then got ready and went down to the dining room to eat breakfast. After eating, I took my map and headed into Seattle. I had thought I would get on the GreyLine tour bus, but parking was the biggest deterrent to that plan. I drove through downtown Seattle, and even crossed the Magnolia Bridge into another section of town. I passed the Pike Street Market, the stadium, the Space Needle, and came within a half block or so of the waterfront area. I inherited my father's sense of direction (and love of following a map!), so I was able to maneuver through the maze of one-way streets. I found a parking lot in the Pioneer Square shopping area (and paid for my parking with my debit card...I felt so cosmopolitan!), and wandered around for about two hours.

I went to the Elliott Bay Book Company, and ate lunch at the coffee shop/cafe located in the basement. I had a "sunshine salad", and it was delicious. I carried my journal with me, and worked on it while eating my lunch. I walked around after lunch, and spotted a clog store across the street. I looked at the shoes, but decided that I didn't need any additional weight added to my luggage (and I think I still had those Privo shoes in my mind from Belk's, but that's a whole other story). I found a Starbucks (what a surprise) and had a Caramel Light and a pastry. I worked in my journal while I ate and drank, and then it was about time to get back to the parking lot.

I drove back to Issaquah without incident, and followed my directions out to the Moores' house. I then drove around town for a while, and found the Costco warehouse store. I'm not a member, and had no interest in shopping there, but since the headquarters is there, it was of moderate interest. I went back to the Holiday Inn and rested (and played in my journal) until it was time to leave for the workshop.

This time the house was marked with a sign, so I was sure of the location. The Moores' house is very unassuming; it is located in a "compound", with Tracy's parents living next door, and the family business (fire protection equipment and services) located in the same area. The house is probably smaller than my house (which is 1900 square feet or so), but the studio is huge. It is two stories, and resembles a garage apartment. There's a covered patio area in front, with a hot tub. There's a larger uncovered patio area, with a couple of tables (and a deck attached to the house). The top floor of the studio is more Teesha's area, and the first floor is Tracy's, and the inventory for their online business. There were tables and lights set up upstairs and downstairs; I chose to sit at the table nearest the outside area, so I got inside and outside light on my work.

Trip to Seattle: Day One, Part 2

We landed in Seattle without incident. I followed the signs to the baggage carousel, and got my bag off with the help of a fellow traveler. I dragged everything to the car rental counter, and picked up my car. When I handed my driver's license to the woman at the counter, she looked at my address and said that she understood why I had that lovely accent! She then asked if I ever watched that show on the Food Network. I knew that she probably meant the Paula Deen show, and I was right. She also said that she'd been to either Georgia or Alabama as a small child, and her strongest memory was of the fried chicken, biscuits, and gravy that she was served for breakfast. I laughed and told her it sounded like a Georgia breakfast to me. Her boss marked a map for me in addition to verbal directions, and even walked me to the car rental section of the parking garage (I think he was going that way anyway, but it made me feel better).

The car was a Hyundai Sonata, and it was great. I did have some trouble trying to unlock the trunk...I kept looking for a place to put the key, and couldn't find one. I then couldn't find a way to pop the trunk from the driver's side of the car, so I put my bags into the back seat and pulled out the car's manual. There's NOT a place for the key in the back, and the lever to pop the trunk is on the driver's side door!

I headed out of the terminal, and found my interstate. Between the Hertz directions and my own internet directions, I found Issaquah and the Holiday Inn without incident. The only glitch with the hotel is the fact that it had NO elevator! I lugged my two bags around the lobby until an employee spotted me and offered assistance. I declined the offer of help with the luggage and lugged them up the stairs on my own. I also made a mental note to either get help when I checked out or take them down one at a time. I freshened up and decided to eat dinner in the hotel dining room. The food and the service were both good, and the tea was especially good. I kept asking for unsweetened ice tea, but I think that's the way it's served in most places outside of the South...maybe that's why I kept getting odd looks.

The two-hour time difference was a little odd. I followed in my father's footsteps and read the telephone directory, discovering that Barnes & Noble was one street over from the hotel. I headed out around 6:30 p.m. PDST, which was 8:30 to my body. I bought a couple of magazines, and drove around a little before heading back to the hotel. I watched a little television, and headed to bed.

Trip to Seattle: Day One, Part 1

I left on Thursday, August 14, for a trip to Issaquah, Washington. I signed up for a journaling workshop--taught by Teesha and Tracy Moore at their home studio--and it started on Friday evening. I went a day early so I wouldn't be worn out from traveling, and so I had time to drive around and look at the scenery. I had not flown since November/December, 1997, so I was a little apprehensive about the security checks and the horror stories I've heard about delayed flights.

The nearest airport is in Birmingham, Alabama, and my flight was scheduled to leave at 10:40 a.m. By 9:30 a.m., I had parked in long-term parking, checked my bag, gone through security, and was sitting at my gate waiting to board. The security check went fine...even with the shoe check and the search of my purse because of the bottle of contact lense solution. Contact lense solution is exempt from the three-ounce rule, and my bottle was less than three-ounces anyway, but I understood--since you can't tell it's contact lense solution through the x-ray scanning machine. We boarded on time and took off a few minutes early. There were only two of us in the three-seat row, and I was eavesdropping on my seatmate's phone conversation. She was talking to someone about genealogy computer programs, and that gave me a opening for a conversation. She was a lovely woman, and we chatted about genealogy and crafts for most of the hour-long flight to Dallas.

I changed concourses and gates successfully in Dallas, and ate a sandwich from a restaurant near my gate. There was a couple waiting to board a plane, and the wife became very agitated when she learned that she was occupying the middle seat of a three-seat row. She was not a small woman, and she knew she'd be crowded. The more she talked, the more sure I became that we'd probably be in the same row...I'm not a small woman, either. Their group boarded before my group, and as I walked down the aisle toward my seat, I saw them...waiting in my row. I tried to be still and quiet for the entire four-hour flight, reading my magazines and listening to my MP-3 player!

It Was a LONG Two Weeks...

but it's finally finished! I attended a two-week teacher training sponsored by the inservice center at a nearby university...and required by my local system. I will get a stipend ($100/day), and a box full of teaching materials and tools for my classroom; the stipend will pay for my trip next month to a Teesha Moore journaling workshop! Well, it will pay for MOST of my trip, and the rest will be a gift to me from me. I am very excited...it is in Washington (state) and I've never traveled that far away in the United States (I went to Germany almost eleven years ago). I am traveling alone, which makes me a little nervous...but NOT nervous enough to skip the trip! The workshop starts on a Friday evening, and I'm arriving on Thursday evening so I'll have some time to look around, and take lots of pictures. I have already booked all my reservations, so now I need to hunt up my "big" suitcase and start making lists. I think the suitcase is in the attic, stored there after our move a couple of years ago, but that will mean a trip up that pull-down ladder...hmmm...

The workshop was interesting, even though I didn't learn a lot of new teaching techniques. I have been teaching the same grade and subject for all but one semester of my long (32.5 years) teaching career, and I have always worked for principals who expected excellence from their teaching staff. I have been blessed to have supportive principals who allowed us a great deal of input, as long as we were able to justify our decisions and back them up with research data and the resulting student successes (on standardized tests and in higher math classes). I did pick up several new technology "tricks", and received some positive feedback and encouragement from younger teachers, who seemed to value my ideas and opinions. I spent time with four of my favorite colleagues, and got to get better acquainted with a relative newcomer to our staff. In addition to the stipend, I received enough continuing education credits to assure the renewal of my certificate, which should be due for renewal one year after my planned retirement date.

My great-niece is coming tomorrow to stay with me until Wednesday. Her parents are in the midst of relocating so that her mother (my niece) can do a required internship for her doctorate, and the baby (all right, she's two, so she's on her way to being a big girl) will stay with me, her maternal grandmother, and her paternal grandparents while Mommy and Daddy get the new house ready. Let's see...we'll go out for breakfast, go up to my sister's (her grandmother) in the evenings to swim in Grammy's pool, go to Blockbuster and get a new Elmo video (and maybe a Blues or Barney video...I prefer Blues) to watch before bedtime, ride in her wagon, and see if she's finally big enough for her tricycle. What a nice way to end my summer vacation...

The Bucket's Still on the Table

I bought the bucket and the eggs just before Easter. My great-niece was coming to town to stay with me and her Grammy (my sister) for a few days while her parents worked on several projects. We hid the eggs on the deck several times, and played with them again and again in the house. We opened up the eggs and put small snacks in them so that she could shake the egg and "find" the snack. We sorted the eggs by color and lined them up (she is just barely two, but I'm a teacher, so every moment is a lesson). We remembered that we had to put them back in the bucket before taking a nap or going to bed. She wanted to take them to Grammy's, and Grammy looked at me gratefully when I convinced the baby to put them with her toys at my house (in the guest bedroom, and it's one of the first places she goes when she arrives, after speaking to the dog).

She was here again two weeks ago. It was a big weekend...my birthday, her birthday, and her mom's birthday all fall within a week's time, so we celebrated twice. Her daddy had to fly out of town for a couple of days, so she and her mom stayed with me for two extra days. Grammy had to work, but I was out of school for the summer, and got to enjoy them during the day, too. My living room got smaller when all the toys were pulled out, but the house was full of fun and laughter and love. The bucket and the eggs are still a favorite, and when the other toys were put away when they were packing up to go home, they ended up forgotten on the dining room table. I know I need to put them away, and I'm going to this evening. I have guests coming for breakfast, and I want to put the centerpiece back in its place. The house is quiet most of the time since I live alone, so I think I've left the bucket on the table to remind myself of the times when we're all sitting around my mother's antique table, all talking at the same time, laughing and telling stories about each other. I hope we're already building memories for the baby, even at her young age.

Just Five More Days...

and school will be finished for this year. Our Spring Fling is tomorrow; eighth grade graduation is Tuesday; and report cards go out on next Thursday (my birthday!). I have begun the countdown to my retirement...I plan to work for three more years, and then say goodbye. I have worked in the same school for almost thirty-three years, and will have taught for nearly thirty-six years when I retire. I am well into my second generation of students, and I used to tell DH that when a student came in and said "you taught my grandmother" that I would be on my way out the door. I am probably getting dangerously close to having that happen, so it's time. I will be fifty-eight years old...and widowed. Two things that I never really thought would happen to me!

My great-niece was with me for three days a couple of weeks ago. She's almost two (her birthday is two days after mine and four days before her mother's), and we had a ball! I had two treasures waiting on her...a Red Rider wagon with fold-up back rests and cup holders and a Red Rider tricycle that was still a little big for her (but might be just right when she's back in a couple of weeks for a big joint birthday celebration). We made two trips to the park to ride the train, and had Mexican food one night so she could enjoy sticking her fingers in her own personal container of salsa (and licking her fingers!).

I gave myself an early birthday gift. The engine has gone out on my car, so I was driving DH's car. I have gone several rounds with GM customer service about my engine, but because of the age of the car (a 2001 model), they say they can't do anything to help me. Never mind the fact that it only had just over 43000 miles on it...anyway, back to the birthday gift. While the baby was here, I started researching crossover SUVs, and settled on a Nissan Murano. I knew how much money I had for a down payment, and my credit union is running a car financing special for the next month. I was willing to travel up to one hundred miles from home to get a good deal, but I really wanted to buy locally. Last Monday, I went by the local Nissan dealer and talked to a salesman. He showed me two Muranos that had just come in, and one of them was a 2005 with less than 16000 miles. They finished cleaning it up, I talked to my credit union and my insurance agent, and they met the price I told them I'd be willing to pay. I had planned to buy a car later in the year, but it all fell into place last week...and because of God's wonderful provision for me, I probably won't have to make a payment on the car; the loan special defers payment for sixty days, and I have enough money coming later in the summer to pay off the car. I've never been treated this nicely by a car...

My Daddy Would Laugh

My daddy suffered from clinical depression. I remember it starting when I was a teenager, but from what I've heard from other family members, it probably started when HE was a teenager. He married my mother when he was twenty-nine and she was thirty-four; he adored her, and they had a good marriage. She helped keep him steady, and encouraged him to use medication when it was necessary. They were married for more than fifty years...he passed away at the age of eighty-two, and she died about eighteen months later at the age of eighty-nine.

When he was in his sixties, his GP retired, and he and Mother had to find a new doctor. The doctor that he ended up using was a Godsend. He helped Daddy find medication that actually helped his depression, and didn't leave him groggy and a little grouchy most of the time. My niece and nephew got to know the man that I had known growing up...the man who loved to tell a joke, who loved to tease anyone and everyone, and was the life of the party. He had a wonderful chuckle, and a sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

At his mother's house, there was a plant growing just outside the back door that my daddy really liked. It was called "sweet shrub", and had a lovely aroma when it was in bloom. Daddy cut several branches from my grandmother's bush, and planted them at our house. He babied the cuttings, and finally got them to take root. My husband and I lived in the house next door to my parents, and the bushes were on our side of the lot, so we enjoyed them, too.

After Daddy died, Mother became more and more feeble, and had to move in with us. We began looking for a house that would be suitable for the three of us, and found one just around the corner from my sister's house. Unfortunately, Mother never lived in the house with us; she had to move to a nursing facility, and passed away six weeks later. My husband passed away about three months later, and I spent the next fourteen months trying to collect myself, and get on with the business of living.

I have always been a photographer, as was my mother and my paternal grandfather. When DH and I lived in our "other" house, he kept the yard in beautiful condition, and had many varieties of flowers that bloomed throughout the year. I was the official family photographer, and even had one of my photographs published in a national magazine. After we moved and DH died, I had no interest in my nature photography for quite a while, but I did continue to take family pictures.

This afternoon, I picked up my camera and walked out into the yard. I had seen the irises growing along the fence, and I wanted to see if I could get some good pictures. DH had grown irises at the other house, but these are a different color, and are quite lovely. I took several pictures, and as I moved up the incline of the yard, I caught a whiff of a lovely fragrance. There is a large bush separating the two iris patches, and it is a sweet shrub bush. My daddy would laugh...

Tomorrow He Gets the Title

My husband was the eldest of four brothers. He was an alcoholic who did not drink and a faithful Christian; he stopped drinking several months before he and I met. When we were getting to know each other, I asked him about his brothers. He said that he and the second brother were the handsomest of the four; he and his youngest brother were the most alike in personality; and the number three brother was the one who had stuck by him through all of his difficulties.

Brother #3 married his high school sweetheart, graduated from college, went to work at one of the local hospitals in the endoscopy department, and became the choir director at the church in which the brothers had grown up attending. He is a trained paramedic, and was for many years the chief of their community's volunteer fire department. He works twice a year as a paramedic at the NASCAR track that's about forty miles from our town, and has a lovely daughter, son-in-law, and two fine grandsons. When his wife was twenty-seven years old, she was diagnosed with breast cancer; she's been a breast cancer survivor for twenty-four years, and founded a local breast cancer support group.

Brother #3 and his wife own a little block house just down the road from their house. It was the house where her parents lived when they first married, and it was the house where they let my husband live when he finally hit bottom and lost everything. It was the house where my husband was when he called #3 and told him that he had to change or die. It was the house where their minister, my father-in-law, my husband, and #3 all prayed for God to strengthen my husband and bring him back from the brink of disaster. God answered their prayer, and after he and I married, God placed him as a Sunday School teacher for teenage boys at a local drug treatment facility.

Brother #3 always treated my husband with Christian love and compassion as well as brotherly love and compassion. He acted in a Christ-like manner, not to be confused with a "religious" attitude. I've read that the Christian army is the only army that shoots our wounded instead of healing them, and that's true in so many cases, but not with #3.

Tomorrow #3 is going to be ordained as a minister. He's been a minister for most of his life, but his church has recognized his calling, and is bestowing on him one of the highest honors that we can give. I went with my mother-in-law today to help her pick out a new dress for the service, and I'm going to the service with my in-laws. It will be a difficult time for me, because we will all be missing the presence of my husband, who would be SO proud of his brother. I thought about buying a gift, but #3 and his wife have everything they need. I'm going to make a donation to the church in honor of #3...and in memory of #1, my darling husband.

Cleaning Out the Refrigerator

I can't take full credit for this analogy...I read an online blog written by a woman who published a "real" magazine, and had gotten behind on the expected issue. She was apologizing for disappointing people, and trying to explain the overwhelming feelings that a person has when he/she has not fulfilled certain expectations.

I lost my father in January, 2005. My mother lived next door to my husband and me, so we looked in on her every day and made sure that she had groceries and ate regularly. We took her for doctor's appointments, paid her bills, and encouraged her to get back into her social activities, which she did for a while. After about a year, she began to deteriorate in several areas, and after a couple of falls in September, 2006, the doctor told her that she couldn't live alone any longer. She moved to our house, and we were fortunate enough to find some dependable help to assist my husband (he was retired) with her care. I continued to work, and we made plans to move into a larger house, so that my mother could have her own area, and so that we would be in a safer neighborhood.

We closed on the house on the Thursday before Halloween, 2006, and on that same day, we took my mother to live in a local nursing facility. She had been diagnosed with liver cancer, and given less than six months to live. We moved the next week, and my sister and I began an exhausting routine of working full-time jobs and trying to check on our mother at least four times a week. Mother passed away on December 2, and we began the work of settling her estate. My husband became ill on January 21, 2007, was hospitalized for nineteen days, and passed away on March 10, 2007, following a brain stem stroke.

I have struggled for the past year to get up every morning and go through my routine. I have kept my bills paid (generally on time), food in the refrigerator (most of the time), and the laundry caught up. I didn't keep up with cards I needed to send, wedding gifts I needed to buy, and paperwork I needed to complete. I let things pile up in my "life refrigerator" and the milk was ruined.

I had an upper-respiratory infection around the time of the one-year anniversary of my husband's death, and it took a toll on me. However, when I finished the antibiotics, decongestant, and cough medicine, I began to have a little energy and desire to clean out that refrigerator and stock it with good things...things that didn't have the mold of sadness and pain growing on them.

During the past month, I have done some work on my part-time business, sent sympathy cards to friends who have lost loved ones, sent "thinking of you" cards to friends who are facing their own trials, cleared up some long-standing paperwork from both parents' deaths, and made amends for a couple of things I should have done months ago. I'm on my spring break from school, and I have a list of at least six more things that I'm GOING TO GET DONE THIS WEEK. I know I'll let the refrigerator get dirty again, but maybe I'll keep it cleaned out on a more regular basis.

I Had a House Party

I remember hearing/reading that word when I was younger, and thought it sounded like a lot of fun. It is...

My niece, nephew-in-law (I have to find a new word for him because I love him), great-niece, and nephew all arrived Friday around 8:30 p.m. My sister got here just ahead of them (she lives around the block), so the fun was about to start. The baby came in and looked around (she's almost twenty-three months old), and decided that she needed a snack before she went to bed (she lives in a different time zone, so she was staying up VERY late, but had a nap in the car on the way). She helped me get out her chair, and we all talked and laughed a little before she went to sleep. The adults talked and laughed for another hour or so, then sister went home and we all went to bed. It's usually just the dog and me, so it was wonderful to have five people sleeping in my house...and a blessing from God that I had enough room (and enough bathrooms!) for all of us.

I got up first,showered, and made coffee. I then watched television in my bedroom to keep from being tempted to get the baby up to play! Everyone was up by 9:30; my sister arrived during the morning commotion, and I went to pick up breakfast for the adults. We finished getting ready, and headed for the municipal park that's about three minutes from our houses (see earlier post and picture). We got our admission bracelets, and went to the platform to wait for the train. We made a complete loop of the park, and on the second loop, we got off the train and went to the animal habitat to see what/who was there.

The baby wasn't exactly pleased with the decision to get off the train, but after we got to the animals, she decided that it might not be so bad. She was able to pet the llama, the sheep, and the donkey. There was a rooster waiting for us at the entrance to the barn area, and he was about at her eye level; she decided that she could probably see everything better if her dad was holding her (and she's right...her dad is about 6'5"). There were turtles, guinea pigs, baby ducks, baby chicks, various kinds of birds and fish, a wolf, a fox, a chinchilla, and a female lion. She heard the train whistle as we headed toward the deer enclosure, so we decided to look at the deer the next time they come over. We hurried to the platform, and planned to head home for snacks and a nap.

The train made its stop at the playground platform, and when her Grammy asked if she wanted to go to the playground, she thought that was a good plan. She tried out all the swings on one set, with her uncle pushing her (he pushes best). Grammy and Uncle went to the nearby fast food restaurant to get ice cream while the rest of us went to the slide and on to the bouncing purple dinosaur. We had our ice cream while sitting under a picnic shelter next to the playground, and then it was time to head home. There was some rebellion on the part of a young girl, but that 6'5" daddy tucked her under his arm and headed for the car (she's at a biting/hitting stage, and he deals with that very well).

While she napped, we visited and played Rook. After she got up, she and I went out to the deck and played with her plastic Easter eggs (they stayed at my house with her other toys). We sorted them by color, lined them up, put them back in the bucket, found the ones that rolled off the table, and talked to the dog. We ordered dinner from a local restaurant, and called Poppy (her step-grandfather), and asked if he thought he could come home from work a little early to see her before she had to leave for her house. Her parents usually try to leave for home (a two-hour drive) around her bedtime so that she will sleep during the drive (harder to do when daylight saving time starts), so after we ate and laughed some more, it was time for the fun to wind down. The travelers left for home, my sister and her husband went up the hill and around the corner to feed their dogs and cats, and my dog and I settled back into our routine. House parties are a lot of fun...

I Drove Home with My Shoes Off!

I've been going through my clothes and shoes. I've got a bed full of things to be packed up and sent off to Goodwill, and all of my spring/summer shoes are in the guest bedroom floor. They are "auditioning" for their place in my closet for the next few months; I wear them around the house or out for a few hours, and check to see if they are comfortable or hurt my feet. If they hurt my feet (or meet that "one year rule"), they move to the donate pile, and I move on to the next pair.

While I was trying on some sandals Saturday, I decided that I was going to splurge and have a professional pedicure (something I'd never done in my almost fifty-five years). I shared my plan with my sister, along with my confusion as to which of the MANY nail salons to choose. She talked to her sister-in-law, who has pedicures on a regular basis, and she recommended the salon that she uses. It is convenient to my regular route to and from school, so I called today on my off period and made an appointment for after school.

I got there at 3:30, and was sent to the back of the salon, where the pedicures are done (manicures are done in the front). The attendant came out and motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs and take off my shoes (I later learned that she spoke very little English). I rolled up my pants, and put my feet into the warm water. She turned on the massage chair, and my wonderful afternoon began...

She finished off the cleaning, clipping, and buffing with a wonderful massage of my feet and legs, and then the polishing began. After she finished with the polish, I was moved to the front of the salon to sit at the nail dryer. After the drying process was finished, I paid her (and tipped nicely...it was a lovely afternoon!) and put on my street shoes. As soon as I got to the car, I took off my shoes and drove home barefooted, so that I wouldn't mess up my pedicure! I even walked from the car to the house without shoes! I put on some flipflops after I got into the house, and still have them on. It's easier to admire my toes while wearing flipflops...hope it's warm enough tomorrow to wear sandals...

It Was a Bigger Deal Than We Thought...

During the past two weeks, I had a couple of messages from a woman (I think she's a cousin, but with the number of cousins I have, it's hard to tell) telling me about a memorial service that was going to be held in a local cemetery in honor of my great-great grandfather. I confess that I did not return her calls; I was sick with my upper respiratory infection for three weeks, and then we had the baby with us for a long weekend. I was also hurt VERY badly by my mother's favorite brother on the day after my husband passed away, and it's made me a little hesitant in general about that side of my family. She left messages on my sister's phone, too, and we decided that we'd go to the memorial service.

We thought it involved the placement of a marker on the grave of my great-great grandfather and great-great grandmother, as this had been a project of my mother's family association. The markers had been the subject of much discussion at several of our annual reunions, and the family had collected enough money to pay for the markers and their installation. The family reunions apparently ended after the death of my mother; I had written one of my cousins explaining the situation with my uncle, and offering to turn over all the addresses and other information to anyone interested in continuing the annual gatherings.

We arrived at the church at exactly the time given for the service, but we ended up being late for the service...but just in time for the photographs. As we gathered with the cousins for a group photograph, my sister and I looked around and realized what had happened...my great-great grandfather was a veteran of the War of 1812, and one of the state chapters had placed a marker (an engraved star) on his grave honoring that service. We mingled with the crowd, talking to several cousins (my mother's brother was not there, so I didn't have to decide how to handle that situation), and making our way to the church hall for refreshments.

There were several state officers from the 1812 group, and one of the state officers lives in a small town just east of our city. We spoke with several of the ladies, including the woman who lives near us and apparently serves as the membership chairman of the group. We have already joined the Daughters of the American Revolution, which pleased my mother (even though she declined to join herself!), and she would be pleased about us joining this group. She and my father were the genealogists for the family, and got a great deal of enjoyment out of their years of research (and filled more than forty notebooks with their data!).

They were proud of their heritage, and wanted us to be proud of who we are. In addition to our heritage, they brought us up in a loving home, with strong Christian values and moral standards. We were encouraged to read, to be creative, and to laugh whenever possible. We went to the library and on family vacations. We took lots of photographs, and collected seashells. We loved each other.

A Little Cold for Spring...

especially in NE Alabama. Our temperature tonight is supposed to be in the high twenties, but we're hoping this will be the last real cold spell of the season. My heat went out Sunday afternoon, but my dependable repairman was here this morning at 8:45 and had it running by 10:00. It was in the thirties last night, but when this happened before Christmas, he'd told me how to heat my main living area with my electric stove, so I was fine for the night. He did some "extra" work this time to help keep this from happening again; my system is about eight years old, and the pilot light can go out in a heavy wind (the system is in my unfinished basement), so he added something to help the pilot light relight itself. He said it wouldn't always work, but it would help.

I go back to work tomorrow, and we spend the week getting ready for the state-mandated standardized testing which will start March 31. That lasts for just over a week, and then we FINALLY have our Spring Break week. We'll have just about six weeks of school left after the break, and then three more years until I intend to retire. I've enjoyed most of my teaching career, but I'm reaching the point when I think I'm ready to pack it in. I may start a tutoring business, and another teacher and I have talked about enrichment or remediation camps for students during a couple of weeks of summer vacation, possibly in conjunction with the local community college or cultural arts center.

My Easter weekend was lovely. My great-niece was here from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon, and on Saturday, my sister (her grandmother) and I took her to the nearby park to ride the train. She is VERY interested in trains; we rode twice around the park on Saturday morning and three times around on Saturday afternoon (the park is only about three minutes from our houses, which are in the same block). You will notice how cool she looks wearing her sunglasses...

Cracks in my Easter Egg

I have finally gotten over the upper respiratory infection that had me in its grip for about three weeks. It came just before the one-year anniversary of DH's passing, and took advantage of a weakened system. After a little more than a week, I went to the doctor, but it still took almost two more weeks for the antibiotic, cough medicine, and decongestant to get me feeling human again.

I went Easter shopping today for my family and my in-laws. I went to my favorite caterer and bought more than $100 worth of wonderful food...I bought chicken casseroles, chicken and dressing, cheddar crusted potatoes, orange fluff gelatin salad, beef lasagne, and a little pimento cheese thrown in for good measure. I'm hoping that my niece and her husband will bring my great-niece over for the weekend (I'm trying to bribe them with their favorites...), and I took half the food to my in-laws. It's frozen in reasonably-sized containers, and my MIL can pull something out of the freezer and add a salad and have a meal in about forty-five minutes. I also bought huge slices of Italian cream cake for my FIL, plus two quarts of frozen homemade soup (vegetable and potato).

When my sister and I were children, we always had lovely new outfits for Easter, and there was always an Easter basket for each of us either on the front steps or on the swing set in the back yard. We dyed eggs with our mother and spent Easter afternoon hiding and hunting eggs, either at our house or at our paternal grandmother's house (she had a better yard for hiding and hunting, plus the addition of cousins).

During our marriage, the Easter season centered around our church's pageant. I had been part of the production crew for several years before I met DH, and when I prayed for a husband, I was very specific--he had to be willing to be part of the production, either on or off stage. God honored that prayer, and sent me a baritone voice attached to a man with a wonderful stage presence! He spent most of our marriage playing the role of Pontius Pilate, with one brief foray into the role of the high priest Caiphas. At one of the first rehearsals after our marriage, a friend asked, "Did you know he could do this when you married him?" I designed and directed the lighting, and he stood in the spotlight...it was a great partnership, and an answer to my prayers.

Jill and the 'Possum

On a fairly regular basis, my dog wakes me at around midnight or 1:00 a.m., and indicates that she needs to go outside. I don't enjoy it, but I get up, let her out, go to the bathroom (while I'm up, might as well make good use of the time), and then let her back in. Sometimes she indicates that she'd like to have a snack, and I usually go along with that idea because she sleeps better with a full tummy. The ONE time that I didn't get up to let her out was the time she left me a "gift" on the living room carpet, so I give in to her messages.

On Monday morning of this week, at around 12:15 a.m., she came to get me. I had heard her barking, and thought she probably saw a strange cat on our deck eating her cat's food. I opened the door, and she dashed out, barking furiously. I went to the bathroom, and came back to get her in, but she was not waiting at the door. I could hear her barking, almost constantly, and the barking was punctuated with spells of growling. I put on my shoes and walked onto the deck, and realized that she was under the deck. I looked over the edge of the deck, and saw a clue to her commotion. I could see the 'possum's tail sticking out through a small crack in the "apron" of the deck (which was put up to keep my adventurous dog from wandering the neighborhood). I started calling the dog, and poking a broom handle through the edge of the deck to try to encourage the animals to go their separate ways. She ignored me.

I got a little panicked, and then formulated a plan. I went back into the house and got my heavy-duty flashlight that throws a long beam. I went back out, and went down the deck steps and turned toward the side that is inside the yard, so there's no "apron" to keep me from seeing under the deck. I shined the flashlight on the dog, and continued to call her. I calmed my voice, but kept it very stern, because she usually responds to that tone (my last resort would have been to get the fly swatter; she was disciplined with a fly swatter before we got her; not beaten, but disciplined; she is a VERY social dog, and LOVES people, so she has never been abused; just looking at the fly swatter would have brought her in). She turned and looked at me, and reluctantly began to walk out from under the deck.

She chose NOT to come out on the side where I was standing. She walked out at the end of the deck nearest the steps, ran up the steps, and was sweetly waiting for me to get back up the steps and to the door. It was almost as though she was asking what took me so long, and that she really needed to go in and go back to sleep.

One morning last weekend, she did spot a strange cat eating her cat's food. I've started feeding the cat on the rail of the deck because if I feed her on the deck, the dog eats her food, and if I feed her on the other back steps, she won't run off the other cats in the neighborhood who eat her food. Anyway, when I let Jill (the dog) out onto the deck, she went after the cat with a vengeance. She chased the cat, making two complete rounds in the fenced portion of our back yard, and that's a large racetrack. The cat finally climbed up a tree, and Jill gave up after watching for a few minutes. I congratulated her on her physical prowess; she's almost eight years old, and shows very little signs of slowing down.

She has such a wonderful personality, and a pleasant disposition. She can be stubborn, but she was wonderful company to my husband, and has been an excellent companion to me since DH's death. She's adjusted well to the new baby in our family; my great-niece is now twenty-one months old, and as long as everyone speaks to Jill when the baby is around, she doesn't show any jealousy. The baby is learning to pet Jill sweetly, and can say Jill's name.

Another Face of Grief

When DH officially retired in September, 2001, he said he wanted to get a dog. He called me at school one day and said that there was a dog at the humane society that he thought would be suitable for us (he'd heard about the dog on the radio). I told him to go by and see the dog, and find out if she was the right dog for us. He said he'd already been by and filled out the paperwork; he was just calling to see if it was all right to get the money out of the bank since the humane society wouldn't take a check!

They took her to the vet the next morning to be spayed, and we picked her up later that afternoon. I had not met her, but she came to us already house-broken, and that spoke well for her life with us. She was a little sluggish the first few days, but after getting over her surgery, she took over the household. She explained--in her puppy dog way--that she would be sleeping with us in our bed, and would be sitting with whoever happened to be sitting in the recliner. She also assigned me the job of rubbing her tummy every night before she went to sleep, and she told DH that he should never go outside without asking her if she'd like to go, too. For the first few weeks DH was afraid that she would be a little more than he could manage, but after they settled into a routine, they were seldom apart. If you knew my husband, you knew about his dog.

She also charmed both sets of her human grandparents. My mother and father lived next door to us, so they were our "babysitters" when we had to be away from home. DH and I had to make a three-day trip to our state capital for him to testify in a federal trial, so she stayed with my mother and father, and expected them to follow her rules. She also trained my father to put down whatever he happened to be doing when she came into their house and pick up the dog brush. When my father passed away in 2005, she continued to look for him for several months. She also taught us the signal she used when she wanted to go to visit her human grandmother; if we opened the back door and she went directly out, she was going out for "business purposes". However, if she went out then stopped and waited for one of us, that meant she wanted to go next door and see Gran.

My mother came to live with us about eighteen months after my father passed away. Because of various health problems, she could no longer live alone, and that suited the dog just fine. She spent most of her time "guarding" my mother; she sensed that things were not right, and did her best to protect one of her best friends. Mother passed away about three months later, so Jill (the dog) had to adjust to another loss in her life.

About six weeks after my mother died, my husband was hospitalized for almost a month. The dog looked for him every time I came home, and my husband kept trying to think of a way for me to bring the dog to see him in the hospital. When my husband came home, she sensed that he was not strong, and treated him differently than she ever had. He was home for almost a month before he had a stroke and passed away.

She loved all the company that was at the house during the days leading up to and just after DH's funeral, but she was confused several times by his brothers and his son. She would hear their voice from another room, and run looking for her Pop. Several months later, she and I were watching television and an Elvis Presley song began to play in the background. She had been dozing, but as soon as she heard the voice, she sat straight up and began looking around. I began to cry, and tried to explain to her that it was not her Pop singing...DH was a baritone who sang ALL the time, and the Elvis song was one he'd sung many times.

The picture above was taken years before DH passed away, but it makes me think of how she probably feels. At the time this picture was taken, DH was standing on the front porch, probably talking with our neighbors. She could see him, and she wanted him to come on in or let her out.

When I wrote DH's obituary, I announced to those who mattered to DH and me that I would be including Jill in the obituary, and I did. I just listed as the final survivor "his beloved Jill" with no other explanation because, as I said earlier, anyone who knew my husband knew about his dog.

Roses and Bananas

One of our elderly neighbors had died, and the wife was being moved into a nursing home. My husband had made friends with the son-in-law, and when the house was being closed up, he went over to see if he could help. The son-in-law knew about my husband's interest in flowers, so he told him to move anything he wanted to our yard. My husband dug up a rose bush that was probably almost five feet tall, and the roots had grown through a brick. He brought the bush (with the brick still attached) across the street, and set it out in the upper corner of our yard.

The bush was blooming when he moved it, and the blooms were huge. He cut them for my mother and me, and we enjoyed them for several days. The bush seemed all right for a while, but then DH became afraid that it was going to die. He did everything he could think of for the bush, but nothing seemed to help. During this time, we were at a family gathering, and he told his youngest brother about the plight of the rose bush.

My husband and his youngest brother shared a great many personality traits (and were similar in physical appearance, too), and one of them is a strong sense of humor, coupled with the ability to, shall we say, spin a yarn (there's a more graphic description, but we want to keep this relatively PG). Youngest brother told DH that he thought that the rose bush was suffering from a lack of potassium, and DH should put very ripe (almost ruined, actually) bananas into the dirt around the bush. DH was skeptical (see reference to yarn spinning), but decided that he had nothing to lose. He begged bananas from my mother for a while, and buried them around the bush.

The bush soon took a turn for the better, and ended up blooming for the second time during the season. DH was never sure if it was the bananas or one of the other treatments he'd already tried, but I think he wanted to believe that it was the bananas, and maybe it was. He couldn't wait to call his brother and share the news...their telephone conversations were always full of laughter, and that's something I miss about DH...the sound of his booming baritone laugh.

Cleaning Out the Cabinets

I was off from school yesterday. My friend who cleans my house came over, and we emptied ALL my kitchen cabinets, threw out some things, and reorganized what was left into a more logical setup. She and my husband did most of the moving; I just took off a few days from work to do the finishing touches. We were in a hurry to get moved and settled, and sometimes I had trouble locating items because I wasn't involved in their placement (not that I'm complaining...she's a wonder, and I don't know what we'd have done without her; helping with my mother and again with my husband).

The cabinets are now in better shape, and I'm going to try to break myself of some of my bad habits. I'm going to try to keep all the plastic lids in one place so that I'm not searching madly as I fix my lunch at 6:30 a.m. I'm going to keep the counter cleared off so I can use it for other purposes, including the art project that is drying there right now.

I'm also going to keep cleaning out my mental cabinets. DH is not coming back; no matter how much I miss him, and wish that I could see him just one more time. My darling mother is not coming back, but my minister once told me that as long as I lived, she'd never really be gone--we share a STRONG resemblance, and I've always said that I wanted to grow up and be just like her (DH said I had; that was a compliment, because he adored my mother...as did everyone who ever met her). I miss both of them with every breath I take, but I think they are both enjoying the time I'm able to spend on my artistic and creative pursuits. I vacillate between enjoying the time, and feeling guilty because I am enjoying the time. My time in late 2006 and early 2007 was spent traveling between school, the nursing home, our house, the hospital, doctors' offices...you get the picture. Now I'm able to spend the time writing in my journal, working on my version of an art journal, and enjoying digesting all my Somerset Studio publications. Mother was an artist, and if she were here, she would be a voice of encouragement at every step of my journey. DH was creative in his work in his yard; he grew beautiful flowers, and enjoyed my photographs of his work.

I'm also looking forward to introducing my great-niece to the pleasures of paper and markers. She's twenty-one months old, and has already expressed interest in pens and paper. After her last visit, I bought a stash of those markers that only mark on the "special" paper, and they're safely stored in my art desk until she's here again. What fun we'll have...her Grammy (my sister) will introduce her to dolls, and I'll be the one with books and paper and markers. What a lucky girl!

Some of My Pictures

Working Up My Nerve

There's a set of Prismacolor markers that I REALLY want. There are 256 markers in the set, and the best price is from Dick Blick. My income tax refund will be here next Friday (online filing, direct deposit), and after I pay the plumbing bill on my "other" house (the one I still own and need to sell), I'll have a little "mad" money to spend on art supplies. My mother taught us that money spent on art supplies is never wasted, and that we must have things to nourish our souls on a regular basis.

Last Saturday night, I went to the Prismacolor site to check out the names of the colors that I'm going to have in my hot little hands in about two weeks, and while there, I clicked on a button that encouraged me to enter some of my art work in a contest sponsored by Prismacolor. I thought about it for a little while, and then got my camera and photographed about thirty or forty of my drawings. I started drawing and "coloring" while DH was in the hospital last January and February; I carried my Marvy Uchida, Zig, and American Crafts markers with me to the hospital every day, and I had picked up a blank book with heavy paper at the dollar store. The process occupied my mind, and I could stop when a doctor or nurse came in to talk to us or do a procedure. I have always been a voracious reader, but I didn't seem to be able to concentrate on a book.

The drawing, coloring, and addition of pen and ink detail continued all through DH's hospitalization, and after his death, it became my lifeline during last summer. I couldn't afford to leave the house every day to shop, and I needed to make peace with being alone in the house during the summer (DH was retired, so we had spent our summers together for the past six years). I could afford to buy good art markers (Faber Castell Pitt pens and the Primacolor markers are my favorites) and watercolor paper, and I drew for several hours every day. My projects were also portable, so I could carry them with me when I made short trips to visit friends and relatives in a neighboring state.

I discovered wonderful frames at Hobby Lobby that just suited my pictures, and when they were on sale for half price, I stocked up. I framed about fifteen of my pictures and hung them throughout my house, and have gotten a great deal of pleasure from looking at them, and knowing that my mother the artist would be proud of me for displaying my artwork (even though she'd probably be a little bemused by my abstract geometric work). My sister picked out several to hang at her house, and my niece has also expressed interest.

The point to all of this is that I decided to enter the Prismacolor contest. I have no illusions about my work compared to other things that I've seen, but I'm proud of coming through last summer's time of grief with the help of my artwork. I once read a quote in Legacy Magazine (published by Somerset Studio, now called Somerset Memories) in which an author says that she's an artist because she says so. I like that approach; I am an artist because I say I am.

I ordered a copy of Somerset Studio's photography magazine (Life Images). After going through the magazine the first time (I go through all of my Somerset Studio publications NUMEROUS times!), I have begun to play with the idea of submitting some of my photographs to this magazine. I had a photograph published a couple of years ago (and ran into someone today who remembered the photo and asked about the accompanying story). I've already been going through my digital files and thinking about what I want to submit. My mother and husband would be so proud...and I am proud of myself for being so brave!

Small, but Wonderful

My sister sent me a text message yesterday afternoon and suggested that I pull out my raclette grill for our dinner meal. She had to pick up her step-son (age fifteen) at 5:00, and could be at my house by 5:30. If you are reading this, and wonder what a raclette grill is, go back in my archives to early January, 2007, and read my raclette post. If you don't want to do that, do a Google search for raclette (there's an article on Wikipedia, too), and you'll get the picture.

I had not used the grill since early last year. It holds eight portions, and I haven't had very many people here to eat since DH passed away. I had looked at the grill the other night when I was putting dishes away, and thought that I needed to get it out and have some people over to use it. So my sister's suggestion was just right.

I sliced and boiled potatoes while I put away the rest of my groceries and got the toppings together that we were going to use. I had ham, smoked sausage (low fat, and it tasted pretty good), pineapple, mandarin oranges, thinly sliced sweet onion, artichoke hearts, sweet pickles (bread and butter), green olives, baby corn, mushrooms, and grated cheese. My step-nephew caught on quickly, and he's all up for another round this afternoon so that his father (my BIL) can join us.

Since I've been exercising and eating a little more responsibly (all right, a LOT more responsibly) after the first of the year, I feel better, and might be up to inviting some non-relatives over to eat. The raclette grill is rather unusual for this part of the country, and I know several families with teenagers that would get a kick out of it. I can handle visiting with people in my home (or theirs, but I don't get many invitations); it's just going places where I would have gone with DH that still upsets me.

On My Day Off...

in honor of Dr. King, my friend Wanda and I accomplished a lot! She got here at around 10:30, and we started with my linen closet. (I think Wanda could do some work as a professional organizer, but right now, I'm glad she just works for me and three or four other families!) We emptied everything, decided what needed to be discarded, and then rearranged what was going back in a more efficient way. The closet is small, and not very deep front to back, but we were able to store my extra pillows, and move some things into the closet that had been taking up room in my bathroom...and we have half a shelf left over.

From there, we moved into my craft room. I had worked in there on my own yesterday, so today we finished emptying the closet (Wanda has probably watched those organization shows on television), and moved those shelves into my laundry room. We emptied the laundry basket Wanda was using to store cleaning supplies, and moved everything into the shelves. It's now easier to access the upper shelves in that room, and the room actually seems larger. We went back to the craft room and moved all my plastic drawer units into the closet, which made the rest of the craft room seem larger, too. When we moved into the house, I had a vision of putting a small chair and ottoman into that room, but I think that's really not feasible. It is the smallest bedroom in a 1960s ranch house, so it is SMALL, and since I'm alone in the house, I have my choice of places for reading, drawing, and thinking.

We went to eat lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. We usually just get carry-out plates when I'm off from school when Wanda's cleaning my house, but today we decided to eat AT the restaurant. It's in the middle of downtown, located in the Cultural Arts Center, and next door to the art museum. They do a huge lunch business; for $5.95 we got a meat (from a selection of four or five), and all the vegetables of the day (Lima beans, fried green tomatoes, mashed potatoes with gravy, creamed corn), and the dessert of the day (sweet potato pie). The dessert serving is always small, which is a perfect, not-so-guilty way to finish off a substantial meal!

From there, we went to Lowe's, looking for an air-conditioner cover. My bedroom does not have vents from the central unit (it is a garage that was closed in to make a huge master bedroom), so there's a small window unit mounted in the wall. It is NOT sealed well, and we've had temperatures in the low teens during the past week. That means there's cold air coming in from the outside just over my head. Bad news at Lowe's--they have sold out of the air-conditioner covers, but the helpful salesperson told us to go to the building supply department and buy the thickest plastic we could find plus a roll of duct tape, and make our own cover. It's not pretty, but the unit is WELL sealed on the outside. As I sit here and look at the unit from the inside, I think I'm going to replace it this spring with one that fits better into the opening and is probably more energy efficient. At the least, I'm going to get covers for both the inside and the outside, even if I have to order them on the Internet.

We went to Wal-Mart and bought a rack for my shoe collection. I had done REALLY well at not indulging my shoe passion, but Belk's had a really good sale last weekend, and then there was that trip to T.J.Maxx with my sister...Anyway, we got a rack that holds eighteen pairs of shoes and fits in the corner of one of my closets. Now to QUIT buying shoes...

I've Been a Good Girl

Early in December, I bought a recumbent exercise bicycle. I used it sporadically throughout the month, and then slacked off during the holidays. I told myself that I was going to get on track before I went back to school after Christmas. We got home from Florida on December 30, and I started riding again on December 31. I've ridden every day except two; I set my goal for twenty minutes each day, and I've beaten my goal every day except two. I am keeping up with my minutes and with my food intake on SparkPeople.com; I'm not doing quite as well with my food, but I think I'm doing better than I was before I started keeping a record. I have a couple of personal weaknesses that I haven't indulged at all since the first of the year, and I can tell that I feel much better.

I am an adult diabetic, and I have learned to judge my blood sugar level by the way I feel before I check it with my monitor. Since I've begun exercising again regularly, my blood sugar is much better, and I feel better in several other ways. I am in the midst of a rough patch of days--my dad died three years ago today; DH went to the hospital a year ago on January 21; DH's birthday would have been February 1; the anniversary of his death will be March 10. The exercise has helped me emotionally; I still have days when I cry while I'm taking a shower, but I haven't had as many of those, and I am sleeping better most of the time.

I kept a paper journal for several years before I married DH. I got away from it after we married, and only did it sporadically when my parents and DH were hospitalized for long periods (keeping a record of all information, visitors, etc.). I have started again on a regular basis, and plan to keep that up through the year. I can type faster than I can write, but there's something about the flow of ink on paper that can't be duplicated online.

I have a stack of pictures waiting to be scrapped. I started in that direction Thursday night when I started working on some all-occasion cards to have ready when I need one. While we were in Florida after Christmas, I visited the Scrapbook Clearance Center in Destin, and bought about $50 in supplies. I've enjoyed looking at them; maybe soon I'll be using them again.

We had an VERY slight accumulation of snow Wednesday evening, so I have those pictures, plus the pictures of my great-niece as she explored the beach in Destin, and when she got to eat with the grownups at a "real" restaurant (as oppposed to fast food!). I've put lots of my pictures of her into small photo albums so I could show them off at work, but her mother and uncle love looking at the books I've made over the years, so I need to get her one of her own to enjoy when she's a little older (she's almost twenty months old).

I Was Married to a Difficult Man

His father is/was a difficult man, and I suspect that DH's younger son is/will be a difficult man for the woman who is fortunate enough to be married to him (he's still single, but has been dating the same young lady for about a year). I once told my mother-in-law that she and I were married to the same man, just at different stages in their lives. She laughed and agreed.

I don't mean difficult in a particularly negative way. In fact, I always considered my marriage to DH to be an adventure, and one of the most interesting adventures I've ever had. I didn't marry (for the first time) until I was 45, and DH was 48. He had been married several times, but the longest marriage was to the mother of his sons, and that lasted for around fourteen years. If DH had been able to stop drinking while they were married, the marriage might have lasted, but who knows?

DH had very high expectations of himself, and therefore, he had very high expectations for everyone else in his life. When he didn't live up to his own expectations, he became very frustrated, and the same thing could happen when one of the people in his life didn't meet DH's standards for them. He was never deliberately unkind; in fact, he was one of the most tender-hearted people I've ever known. He was sometimes gruff, but I think that was probably to cover up his sensitive side. He was always willing to help anyone who needed him, and because of his past, he had a special place in his heart for those struggling with addictions.

I once told DH's sons that I had never met anyone who didn't like their father. I told them that there had been some times when their mother wasn't particularly fond of him, but that they had both worked through their issues and she even liked him again by the time he passed away (at my invitation, she came to be with us at the hospital while we waited; they boys needed their mom since they were losing their dad).

Happy New Year!

I made it through Christmas. I spent time with DH's family on the Saturday before Christmas, and that was nice. I stayed for about two hours, and then I had to leave. I cried most of the way home, then blew my nose and went to my sister's house to visit with the great-niece. I went home after dinner, and my sister called me at 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning and asked me to take her to the emergency room. Her husband works second shift, so he had just gotten to bed, and she was afraid that he would be too sleepy to drive, so I was happy to take her.

When they realized how much pain she was having, they began to move quickly. She had a CAT scan, and it showed the 7 mm (about 1/3 of an inch!) kidney stone that her body was TRYING to pass. She got a morphine drip shortly afterward! She was in a room by 6:00 a.m., and the ER doctor had talked to the urologist on call. The nurse came in at 9:30 for her to sign the surgery release papers, the doctor came in at 10:00 to talk to her, and they took her down for surgery at 11:00. She was back in her room by 12:30 p.m., and my niece had come to take over and let me go home. My sister was home by 4:00, and feeling MUCH better! She couldn't pick up the baby (19 months old) during Christmas, but that was a small price to pay to get rid of the pain!

We left for Destin, Florida, on December 27. My niece, her husband, their daughter (the 19-month-old), my sister, my nephew, and I spent four days on a condo across the street from the beach. We took the baby to the beach twice (she LOVED sand, but did not like the water...probably too cold) since the temperature was in the sixties while were there. We shopped at the outlet mall, ate seafood (we ate dinner at 4:30 in the afternoons so that the baby could go with us without being tired and fussy...easier on us and on the other diners!), played games, and just enjoyed each other's company.

I am back at school, and this year will be over before I know it. I still plan to teach three more years, and then retire. I will have been in the same school for more than 35 years when I retire, and while I have enjoyed it thoroughly (and still do, MOST of the time), I am ready to spend more time with my family and play with my art projects. I may even get a little part-time job or do some tutoring. I've always tutored kids from church for free, but I might turn it into a small for-profit enterprise! My niece is planning to have one or two more children, and I want to have time to enjoy them as much as I enjoyed my niece and nephew when they were growing up.