~ Awesome Sunsets. I was lucky enough to get some pictures of a few of them.

 

~ Good doctor report for Andy

 

~ A raise at work

 

~ I get to babysit my grandson 4 hours a week.

 

~ I have flexible work hours so that I can take Andy and Dad to their doctors.

 

~ When I was outside a hawk flew right overhead and screeched.

 

~ Ana, my friend, shared her “space” with me.

 

~ Warm fires in my wood stove

 

~ Hot baths for sore muscles

 

~ The simultaneous sounds of laughter and music coming from my basement piano

 

~ Watching Joni play basketball and make 10 out of 10 free throws

 

~ Oscar making “ET” noises while he scratches his back on the carpet

 

~ Gandalf attacking my feet as they move under the covers

 

~ Mr. Burns kneading my shoulder before sleeping in the crook of my neck

 

~ Oscar following me from room to room and laying at my feet if I stop for a minute

 

~ Kissing and nuzzling in baby Nathan’s neck

 

~ Going out to lunch with my daughters

 

~ Finding a movie in the mailbox

 

~ Drawing my picture for the journal and having it turn out good.

 

January has given me some pretty amazing gifts. I can’t wait for February.

 

January Gifts Postscript:  After I posted this I went to pick up my son from his physical therapist and found out he can finally put away his crutches after being on them for 10 weeks.  HURRAY!!!!

Have you ever stared at a night sky, trying comprehend just how vast space is?  Consider this photo demonstration.

Yesterday I took Andy back to the doctor for his post-surgical check.  We found ourselves waiting for quite a spell in the reception area.  The chairs were mostly full when we arrived.  Every time the nurse would come out with a chart everyone would look up expectantly, hoping their name would be the one called.  As we were sitting there I found myself watching the others and wondering about them. 

 

Why did that woman over there have two surgical shoes on?  Did they really operate on both feet?  How did they expect her to get around?  When she was called back she struggled to stand and very slowly made her way back using crutches.  Why didn’t she have a wheelchair? 

 

That man across from us, reading the hunting magazine.  Is he a hunter, or just bored. He has a walker next to him.  Did he hike all over hills and valleys looking for game, and in the process wreck his knees? Did he have knee surgery? The nurse called his name and he promptly rose, lifted up his walker like an oversized umbrella and strode back to the exam room. Hmmmm…….

 

Then there were the cell phone talkers.  What a fascinating exercise, trying to put a story to the one-sided conversation that you can hear.

 

            “Where did I tell you to be?...........Then go there and do the same thing as yesterday.”

 

Where was that person supposed to be?  What kind of things were they supposed to be doing?  The tone was too much like an order to be nice, or friendly.  What kind of hold does this person have on the unseen one?

 

Another one:

“Did you do your homework? ………then empty the cat box out and get rid of the hamster.”

Did I just hear that correctly?  Get rid of the hamster?  Did the hamster die, or is it just a naughty pain-in-the-neck beast worthy of being tossed.  And what about the cat box?  Is this a litter box or a box where they keep the cat?  Did the cat have anything to do with the hamster?

 

 The next time you find yourself waiting in line or in a doctor’s office, I highly recommend you try this game of imagination. It can be highly entertaining and before you know it your name will be called.  Then the speculation can begin about YOU. 

 

(Why does that big strapping boy need crutches?  Look at his loving mother…..)

Thank you to all my friends who have left me heartening messages.  I appreciate your words of advice and love to hear from you.  Unfortunately I have not been able to leave messages on any of your spaces for quite a while now.  MSN swears they are making progress on my problem, so maybe soon I will be able to comment.  I have visited your spaces and have loved reading about your thoughts and doings.  Thank you.

 

The other day I was moving dressers, bookcases, and file cabinets so that I could use my shop vac to suck my carpets dry. When I started pulling back the carpet and removing the pad I had a flashback and suddenly realized that I had been cleaning up flooded basements my entire life!  Okay, not my entire life, but since I was about 9 years old.

 

My mom and dad built a beautiful large home on the front corner of our 25 acres of land.  Dad's farm was toward the back of the acreage. The house was a large ranch on a full basement.  It was an 8 bedroom, 3 bath home with lots of room for fun.  Besides all the regularly appointed rooms (dining, living, family, etc.) it had a rec room, ping-pong room, pool room, and theater.  My brother, Storyteller, made the theater using chairs salvaged (I think) from our church's choir seats.  It was set up with about 5 rows of 3 seats each (if I remember correctly) and had a “projection booth” in the rear.  I think he even put small lights on the end of each row of seats and had a dimming switch for the overhead just like the “real” theaters.  Nowdays, it seems everyone has a theater in their homes, but back in the early 70’s it was quite a novelty. 

 

In one corner of the basement ping-pong room my Dad had a very deep hole in the floor.  This was the hole to measure the level of the sub water. Every spring this water would rise and rise until it would come right up through the floor and soak everything.  Every fall the level would drop.  We would have to monitor the water level constantly.  There was a very long pole that we used to measure the water level.  When the level reached a certain point we would have to start the pumps.  There were 3 large powerful pumps that ran continuously from spring to fall every one of my growing up years.  When the pumps were running everything was okay, but if a pump broke or the power went out, the water would steadily and quickly rise and create a swamp in the basement. To try to forestall any problems my Dad purchased a large generator.  Everyone in the family was trained on two important things.  How to check the water level through the hole in the basement floor, and how to start the generator and switch the pumps over to it’s power in case of an outage. 

 

In spite of all of these precautions our basement was flooded many times. It always caused my heart to sink when I would come home to the news, “the basement flooded again”.  My bedroom was in the basement.  I liked my room and tried to keep it nice.  I was always disheartened when the things I tried to make nice were ruined.  More than once I remember waking up and getting out of bed only to step right in water.  The time I remember most vividly was when I came home from school and was greeted with the dreaded news. I went directly to my room to see what the damage was and saw that I had left my lamp on.  Without thinking I slogged through the water to unplug the cord.  As soon as I touched the cord I received a horrific electrical shock.  My heart was pounding hard when I realized what a stupid mistake I had made. I was so lucky to live to tell the tale.

 

Then an ironic thing happened.  About 5 days after I graduated from high school I was watching my brother, Brian, work on the lawn mower.  It was a Saturday morning and I was supposed to mow the lawn before going off on my own.  Brian had a small portable radio going while he worked.  Suddenly the music was cut off and an announcement came on stating that the Teton Dam had burst and a flood was headed right for us.  This news sent everyone into a frenzy as people were evacuated to high ground.  My dad worked feverishly on the farm trying to prepare for the worst.  My Mom and I realized that Brian’s wife was still at their apartment in town.  Brian called her and asked her if she had any water. She said, “just a minute, I’ll go check”.  She went to the sink and started the tap.  She came back and assured him that yes, she did have water. She hadn’t heard about the dam breaking. Mom and I decided we should go and get her.  We were met with a roadblock at the town’s edge.  A policeman did not want us to pass.  We told him we were going to retrieve a family member and he let us go.  Once we got downtown we noticed how eerily quiet it was.  The apartment was located on a narrow street with tall buildings on both sides.  At the end you could see Main Street. I kept expecting to see a rush of water careen past.  I was very scared. We picked up Brian’s wife and headed back to the farm.  I still can’t get over how quiet the town was.  It was spooky.  At the house a few of us worked doing what we could emptying our basement.  The town was between us and the dam, so we knew we had a little time.  As long as the water hadn’t reached town yet we were okay to stay and work.  Finally my Mom packed up a few of us and some food and water and drove onto the hill.  From here we could see the flood coming.  It was huge!  Miles and miles of water everywhere in the distance and it was headed our way.  My dad stayed at the farm and monitored the irrigation ditch that ran past the farm.  The water was barely contained in it and kept sprouting leaks which my Dad and brothers would immediately fill.  One neighbor showed up with a back-hoe and was going to tear down our side of the canal bank. His thought was that it would divert the water from his side.  There was a heated discussion and the canal bank was left intact.  After quite some time it was decided that we would be safe if we went back home.  I remember sleeping on the floor of the main level of the house.  My Dad stayed up all night watching the ditch bank.  The water peaked at about 2 in the morning and then started to subside.  In the morning the danger was gone and we were not flooded.  How ironic that when thousands of people in our town had flooded basements, ours was dry!

 

The aftermath of the flood affected everyone, though.  If you lived in the area, you were a flood victim. Marshall law was instated, no one could leave or enter the area. After a few days the phone company finally set up 2 phones on a corner where everyone waited in line to let family outside of the area know what had happened. The flood water had washed through a fertilizer plant and left traces of chemical blanketed everywhere.  Soon the entire town had, what was affectionately “the dam flood cough”. The National Guard came in and helped, as did busloads of people from everywhere!  I’ll never forget the sight of helicopters hauling away dead bloated cows.  It was a common sight for days.  The people in my town worked hard and banded together.  Neighbor helped neighbor.  In what was actually a fairly short time houses were demolished and rebuilt, businesses were reopened, and life went on.  I think our town is actually better for having gone through this. It was a refiner’s fire.  It brought out the best in most people. Everyone realized that “things” were not that important.  The only thing people really mourned for was the loss of photos and other irreplaceable momentos.  Humor still survived.  One radio announcer said that the baseball game at Smith Park was cancelled due to the house on first base.  This type of good humor was common as we all realized how much worse it could have been. 

 

So, if I grouse a bit at my little trials in life I need to just thank my lucky stars that the “dam cough” went away, my bedroom is now on ground level, and there’s no “house on first base” in my game of life.

Cliche's are cliche's for a reason.  They are usually sayings stated because something happens over and over.  They are true!  The cliche that has currently beeing streaming through my brain is "when it rains, it pours".

 

In my past few blogs I have mentioned a few of my life's stresses and how my poor brain has been trying to deal with everything.  I don't want to be redundant and hash over those things again.  Let's just say that the last few months have tested my mental stability and sanity.  There have been other things in my life that I haven't written about here. Some are health issues that seem to drag down my spirits if I stop to think about them.  Some are family issues and dealing with not knowing how to handle a particularly difficult member of it.  Also my computer has ceased to play nice and I can't do anything I want to do on it. All this has been quite a lot to handle. 

 

Yesterday I thought I was finally getting through the worst of everything.  Things were starting to look a little less stressful.  Since it was a work holiday I was able to do some cleaning, organizing and then, wonder of all wonders, I actually spent 2 hours creating art!  I so enjoyed myself and thought I might actually be able to squeeze this activity in on a more consistent basis.

 

Then, 1 hour later my car wouldn’t start.  There’s some kind of an electrical problem. 

 

Then, morning came. And we were greeted by the sight of a very flooded basement. The water was from a backed up septic system. I don’t think our week-long spell of overnight lows in the negative 20 range had anything to do with it, but maybe it did.

 

I really thought I couldn’t handle one more thing, and now I’ve got two. I think I'm still handling it okay, but I must be at my limit now.  Can I really handle any more?  What are the alternatives? Would I have a nervous break-down if something else came my way?  What is a nervous break-down, and how do you have one?  Would it really solve anything?  Would I then have to deal with the stigma of emotional instability along with everything else? 

 

I think I’ll go home from work today and feed my soul.  I’m going to splash through the basement to my own special room and draw for a while, or maybe I’ll swirl some acrylics around a canvas.   I’ll hum a little tune while I’m doing this and maybe I’ll strip naked and do some body art. Hmmmm. Then maybe I’ll laugh hysterically and dance………..

 

(((“Dad, I think mom’s having a nervous break-down!”)))

We have a small dog door that allows our dog to enter and exit the house on his own.  It is installed in our laundry room and goes out onto our deck.  This door is so convenient!  The cats have discovered the door and take advantage of it as well.  This would not be a problem if not for Mr. Burns.

 

Mr. Burns is a huge grey tabby with a white face.  He is the cat who moved on down the road to our house after his family abandoned him.  I gave him away once, to a family in the next town.  He showed back up on our front step about a week later. Mr. Burns is old.  He doesn't move fast, just kind of plods along doing his own thing.  Oscar, my dog, loves to chew on his ears, which he allows for a long time before voicing a gravelly annoyed meow. Mr. Burns loves the freedom of going through the dog door. We thought he was too old and set in his ways to be much of a problem. Things were moving along great until this week.  Mr. Burns learned a new trick.

 

Three weeks out of the year I have to be at work by 7:30 A.M.  The reason I have to report for duty before night's official end (well... my definition of night's official end) is to get all the new labs going at the beginning of each term.  This has been that dreaded week. 

 

I normally work 10 to 4 every day.  It is WUNN-DERR-FULLL!

I get up at 9, leisurely get ready and arrive at the office at 10.  My job can be chaotic at times, but is always (or almost always) a positive experience.  I am in charge of scheduling and supervising about 30 student employees, the museum, the weather station, the web site, the online learning program used at our university called Blackboard, and whatever else they throw my way. It sounds like a lot, but the reality is I do so many diverse things that I am never bored. I finish up with work at 4, hit the grocery store and the roads before the 5:00 rush. It's a great life.

 

But three times a year I have to attend and explain Blackboard to every geology lab. This term there are 14.  I have gone through this explanation and demonstration so many times that I usually say the same words over and over.  Last summer, when our building was undergoing a major remodelling, one of the construction guys came up to me and said he had my monologe memorized and could go in and do the next class for me. I've come up with little mind tricks to keep it interesting.  One time I might try to get someone to smile.  That sounds like a simple thing, but any professor will tell you that on the first day of class most students sit there and look at you like you had an extra ear growing out of your forehead. Another goal of "intro day" is to actually get someone to ask a question!  This is another rare event for the first day of lab.  Today I hit jackpot.  In my first lab I actually heard someone laugh, and the lab after lunch we had a regular Q. & A. going.

 

This is where Mr. Burns new trick started to cause some problems. Early Monday morning there was a big commotion in the laundry room.  It woke up the entire household.  My daughter Abby, our early riser, went in there to get something and came face to face with a horrifying sight.  Mr. Burns had dragged a headless baby bunny rabbit through our dog door.  Abby grabbed a broom and chased the cat around until he finally took it back outside.  He was not pleased.  He just wanted to have breakfast in the warmth of our house and a crazy person with a broom ruined everything.  My sleep was cut short that day, and I knew I had early labs the next three mornings.  Oh well.

 

On Tuesday, (my first early day), I was able to jump right out of bed when my alarm went off at 6:40.  It was only seconds later when I heard another commotion.  Mr. Burns had done it again. This was a fresh kill, head still intact. We had to hold the cat back with a broom while Abby scooped up the furry body with the dust pan. He was not happy about seeing his hard-earned meal disappear.  I was very glad that I had everything laid out and ready to go. I arrived ready, willing, and able right at 7:30.  I was pretty proud of myself for being so wide-awake and on top of things all day. 

 

Last night I managed to get to bed about midnight, a little earlier than normal. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard Andy yell. There was another furry carcass in our laundry room. We had to dispose of it once again while Mr. Burns glared. It was not the peaceful drifting off to sleep I had planned. By the time the adrenalin in my body had slowed down it was quite late. I had barely shut my eyes when my alarm clock again went off.  Where did the night go?  I swear someone played with my clock. This time I had to drag my body through the motions of dressing and driving to work.  By the end of work my boss told me that all those labs must really be wearing me out, I looked so tired. I only have one more day to go. Tomorrow morning I'm thinking the day will not be started easily.  The best I can hope for is a tired, but rabbit-free morning.  That I could deal with. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These last few months have been a challenge.  When my dad was diagnosed with cancer in October I took over the task of going with him to the doctor every time.  I have six siblings that await my report after every appointment.  It works much better than having my dad and mom try to remember all the details and repeat them 7 times to each family member. I also helped with their Medicaid paperwork.  The doctor visits have been a series of emotional highs and lows. When it was discovered that his bone marrow had an unrelated but equally serious disorder that prevented him from bouncing back from each Chemo treatment the lows became more common than the highs.  My mom's arthritis has been a cause for concern, as she never complains about it.  She just suffers in silence, but we all know she's in pain and it hurts.

 

Then in November my grandson was born.  It was another rollercoaster ride of emotions as the joy of his birth and the concern over his breathing meconium into his lungs were both present.  That same day my youngest son made it onto the Jr. Varsity high school basketball team.  Two days later at practice he dislocated his knee cap.  The knee cap moved clear over onto the side of his leg for over 45 minutes.  He was in excruciating pain.  We somehow got him outside, but then couldn't move him, so we had to call an ambulance. It was freezing cold and snowy, but somehow the EMT's were able to get him up to the hospital. He's been on crutches ever since.  So now I was transporting both my dad and my son to many doctors, physical therapists, to the hospital for an MRI, and on and on.  My son's doctor said Andy needed surgery, which we agreed to.  It was scheduled for Jan. 16, which wasn't good news for us as we had already met the insurance deductable for Andy for 2006.  We didn't want to have to pay it again in 2007. Suddenly, on Dec. 21st, we received a phone call saying that our doctors plane trip was cancelled due to bad weather in Denver.  He could operate on Andy the next day!  There was a lot of last minute plans and 12 hours later Andy was at the surgical center for what was supposed to be out patient surgery. The surgery itself was more involved than was originally planned.  His knee cap was still not in the right place, so in addition to lengthening one ligament and tightening another arthroscopically, they also had to cut open the top of his knee and replace his kneecap.   When he was coming out of the anesthesia he had allergic reactions to a couple of the medicines they gave him.  What was supposed to be a couple of hours in the surgical center turned into an overnight stay at the recovery center.  Thank heavens there was a couch in the room that I crashed on.  Recovery at home has been an eye-opening lesson in home nursing care for me.  I knew I was capable of anything when I helped my 16 year old, six foot three, 200 pound son shower, dress, and especially when I was down on my hands and knees yesterday cutting his toenails. Even though he is now doing well, although he is still on crutches, I have felt the effects of all the stress in my life.

 

All in all, I think I've handled things pretty well most of the time, although once in a while I think I'm losing it. My brain just refuses to do what I want it to do anymore.  I'll be getting ready for work in the morning, just going through my regular routine, and all of a sudden I will be confused.  "Did I take my pills already or do I still need to take them?"  I'll be halfway to town when I suddenly get worried, "Did I turn off the tv, unplug the iron, shut the front door?"  And then, "what happened to the last mile I just drove?  I don't remember anything about it."

 

My husband, a public school educator, once went to a conference on learning.  He learned that many routine activities can be done without any conscious thought.  If a task is done with enough repetition it can be done "on autopilot".  This is because your brain stem has taken over the task.  You do not use your brain stem for conscious thought. It is what unconsciously keeps you breathing, your heart pumping, your eyes blinking, and on and on.  And it's what gets you a mile down the road without you remembering the trip.

 

The older I get the better I get at understanding the aging process. Now that these "senior moments" seem to be happening to me on an increasingly frequent basis I am developing a new theory on it's cause.  The older you get the SMARTER your brain stem gets.  It's had a longer and longer time to rotely learn many, many tasks.  Can't remember where you left your keys?  That's because your brain stem took care of that little task for you.  Can't remember what day it is?  Old "B-Stem" has lived through so many Thursday's he just thought he would handle that for you as well.

 

I say let that old brain stem handle all the mundane tasks of life in my senior years while I contemplate more serious issues, like, "Will I make it to the bathroom on time?"