Author Archives: Kami

 
 

Celebrating My Son’s Rescue ~ Four Years Ago Today

“We are all ordinary. We are all boring. We are all spectacular. We are all shy. We are all bold. We are all heroes. We are all helpless. It just depends on the day.” ~ Brad Meltzer

Jeremy and Rustin
A roadside sign with a happy ending.
Car interior.
Ashes and road damage from the car fire.
His backpack in the back seat of the car.
More interior of the car.
Aftermath.
Sarah and Rustin.

Today I celebrate three heroes who saved my son’s life four years ago. Here’s the blog post that I share each year to tell the story and honor those three and all the other angels who helped that day.

Click here to read the story that goes with these photos.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Michael Harrison, Rustin Crawford and Sarah Crawford for saving Jeremy’s life, and in the process saving mine!!!!

~~~~~

(If anyone can get me a photo of Michael so I can include his angel face in my memorial, please comment. Thanks!)

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment
 
 

Mugging It for the Camera

Friday Letter to my Kids – March 20, 2015 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

A solid, deep blue basic. My go to mug.

A solid, deep blue basic. My go to mug.

I went through a kitchen cupboard this week in my continuing efforts to downsize, declutter and dejunk. I also sorted and organized one of the messier drawers since Dad couldn’t find a twist tie and I knew we owned at least a thousand of them. What a tidy drawer the plastic bags and foil and waxed paper have to live in now.

In my defense, most of what resides behind those closed doors and drawers exists for those mythical and rare times when the entire family gets together. Your Dad and I only need a few of everything, even on our wildest cooking days. But when it’s time to fondue, or holiday dinner or family barbecue then we need more than a dozen plates, a zillion drinking glasses, multiple forks and knives, myriad amounts of pans and bowls. But for the other 361 days of the year we have far too many things in our cupboards.

Might be a collector?

Might be a collector?

This particular cupboard received a comment probably half a year ago. Something having to do with owning more glasses and mugs than a small nation needs. It’s true. Between the glass cups I prefer and the blue plastic ones Dad likes, the sippy cups for the littles, and all the other odd mismatched ones it’s an overabundance of drinking paraphernalia. That doesn’t even include the mugs and teacups.

I pulled all the mugs out of the cupboard first. Ah, such fun memories. I have a bit of a collection, one that could be on display except that it’s not classy like china. Granted it isn’t a shot glass collection, or salt and pepper shakers from around the world. It’s just a small taste of my past life. I admit I’m a bit of a hot chocolate fiend. Having the perfect mug that fits my mood when I mix the elixir simply adds to the pleasure of the experience.

I though if I paraded my mugs perhaps it’d help me decide which ones to let go. Maybe you want to claim one or two for yourselves. I think a couple actually belong to you guys. Let me know. I’m happy to pass them on to a new life.

Felt this way many a morning.
Loved that little J spent some time here.
Needed this reminder occasionally.
If only this were always true.
a very relaxing family vacation
Um, we can maintain the illusion.
Love.
Leaves are a fav.
Can never have too many hugs.
True even now.
Pretty sure this is Dad’s.
Made with Love by Big L.
Still an obsession little L?

I have a few more around the house that became pencil holders when the handle broke or the lip chipped. A purple Venus, a silver snowflake, a blue speckled tin. I can’t seem to let things go. isn’t that weird? I think so.

There’s some history in these mugs. Lots of cold mornings with a steaming cup of cider. Some snowy afternoons with hot chocolate to thaw your toes from the inside. Plenty of sick days with Russian Tea warming the mug and soothing your throat. It’s been fun looking at them with you.

You know, it’s not the mugs I’m hanging onto so much as it is the memories. Seems like that’s what it all really comes down to in most decisions. People, not things.

Love you all,

Mom

~~~~~

“Hot chocolate is like a hug from the inside.”

Categories: Family, Friday Letter to My Kids, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments
 
 

Turning Corners and Finding Open Doors

 

Picture from a quote I found on an old calendar.

Picture from a quote I found on an old calendar.

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for open doors.

About a month ago, maybe a little more, I felt life turn a corner. Nearly a tangible sensation, I felt lighter, aimed a different direction, moving forward on more level ground. Where I had been for the past year or so inclined at such a sharp angle I could barely hang on. And then, I felt different.

You see, as I turned that corner and the ground leveled out some, I spotted an open door.  Am I ever grateful for open doors! It’s as if someone let fresh oxygen inside a carbon dioxide filled room. Whoosh!

Hey, I’m even grateful for doors just barely cracked open. That sliver of light showing through can make all the difference to my stumbling around in the dark or making progress.

There’s been some door slamming going on in the world around me over the past year or so. The shock of a slammed door, even an expected one, sets my hackles rising and raises my stress levels, although you’d never know it on the outside, or so I’ve been told. I’m always FINE. (Have you seen the movie “The Italian Job?” They have a different definition of the word FINE: Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional. Yup, I was just FINE.)

So, several doors slamming right around the same time. Closed doors. Opportunities gone. An era over. Life lived small. Seasons ended.

I try not to freak out over the slamming, closing, lost, missing, ended stuff. But I’m an insecure being wrapped up in my attempts at faith and hope but surrounded by these personal storms, getting drenched with a blown out umbrella and no rain jacket.

neurosis. (n -rō’sĭs) A psychological state characterized by excessive anxiety or insecurity without evidence of neurologic or other organic disease, sometimes accompanied by defensive or immature behaviors. This term is no longer used in psychiatric diagnosis.

According the Dictionary.com and current psychiatric reasoning, I’m not neurotic. I just get really anxious and feel insecure about life, occasionally, sometimes, often, almost always. Especially when the doors all close behind me and I’m waiting, watching for, praying about and working at finding an open door. I’ll even take an open window, I can climb through windows.

Lots and lots of light slipped in through chinks in the walls and chinks in my armor.  In fact, there was a skylight blazing a couple of times a week. It hasn’t been all darkness and doom. Joy has happened amid the undercurrent of loss and lost. There’s been help, lots of it. And hope. Mostly, but not always.

I’m not one to pronounce gratitude for those closed doors, though. It’s not in me to do that. I don’t see it as a requirement for Sainthood or for Decent-personhood either. Although I can recognize value after the fact in what I learned stuck behind a door.

A couple of doors opened when I turned that corner a month or two ago for which I’m ever so grateful.

The next time a door starts to creak open, I’m pushing my foot in so it can’t close up. I’m ready for full on, unfiltered sunlight. I like the happiness, the whateverness of something different.

 ~~~~~

“When someone you love says goodbye you can stare long and hard at the door they closed and forget to see all the doors God has open in front of you.” ~ Shannon L. Alder

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment
 
 

One of the Coolest Kids I’ve Ever Known

Friday Letters to My Kids – March 13, 2015 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

One of the coolest kids I’ve ever known showed up in my house the other day. Actually, it was a photo of him.

In it he’s about six or seven years old. A first grader I would guess, or maybe the summer before second grade. He’s got a great set of wheels, complete with hand brakes. The Northwest sun reflects off one of his slightly chubby cheeks, which he inherited from his Mom’s side of the family.

Is this cool, or what?

Is this cool, or what?

He’s smiling, but just barely. I’m not sure if the camera simply captured him before he reached full grin or if he was going for a certain look.

He’s got a James Dean confidence in his stance, on his face, in the way he rests his hand on the bike. And, this important detail, he ain’t wearing no sissy helmet.

Not that the little guy on the right is a sissy.  He probably went on to rock the quarterback spot of his High School football team in Gig Harbor.  I liked his family. Nice people, salt of the earth people. I feel bad we lost touch with them.

Big J here, on the left, loved riding that bike. A year later he got a Joe Cool skateboard because, frankly, I’ve always thought of him as a Joe Cool. Suave, relaxed, charismatic, able to master any skill he set his mind to.

He’s still that way. Except the bike is way flashier and a helmet would not be a sissy thing at all, not at those speeds. And he has a hot blond who rides on the back with him. He can also do anything. At least, I think he can. Change out an engine on a car? Why not? Design, engineer and build a custom part for his ride? Easy. Make a computer do whatever the heck he wants it to? Cake. Need any kind of repair in the house done?? He’s got it handled. No problem.

On top of such coolness he’s a nice guy, too. He’s one of the first to stop and help push a car to the side of the road if they stall out in an intersection, or do a gas run for a car on empty. He’ll go out of his way to help a friend or a member of his family, even if it means missing out on sleep or giving up something he wants. How cool is that?

You might not be able to tell from this picture, but he’s got a bit of a teasing streak and loves to laugh, too.

This kid shows up at my house on a pretty regular basis, live and in person. Am I lucky or what? He’s still just as awesome as this picture shows.

I sure do love this kid.

Love,

Mom

~~~~~

“Dream as if you will live forever; Live as if you will die today.” ~ James Dean

Categories: Friday Letter to My Kids, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment
 
 

The Things You Learn Whether You Know You’re Learning Them or Not

It’s Gratituesday! I’ve thought this one over for a while. I’m grateful to my parents for teaching me some cool stuff.

For instance, Mom taught me to sew as a little bitty thing. I remember sewing little drawstring bags and carrying my treasures in them. Not sure what had more value, the bag or the things in the bag. I’ve since sewn a few thousand things. I’ve made  quilts, baby blankets, skirts, dresses, shirts from scraps, pillowcases and a zillion other projects. I’ve hemmed countless pants and dresses, and altered clothing beyond imagining. I even made a living for a while using my sewing skills. How about that?

By Dongui (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Photo By Dongui (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Mom also taught me the basics of playing the piano. Then Dad and Mom both put up with listening to me crank out bad versions of pop songs and classical music. And Dad, he paid for lessons from Mrs. Kump, since they  thought I’d learn better from a different teacher for a while. I’ve played for a zillion different things and have even segued into playing the organ occasionally, which rocks, in case you’ve ever wondered. Of course, this lead naturally to a love of all these musical.

Mom sang in a music group and I learned to sing alto by listening to her practice as well as by sitting next to her while we sang hymns in church.

Dad instilled a love of all things gardening and growing. I still recall his engineering quality maps of our yard with every single plant mapped out in amazing detail. I loved getting my hands in the dirt, watching the veggies grown, picking fresh raspberries, mowing the lawn. I still prefer doing yard work to house work, even in Arizona.

They also taught me, indirectly, the satisfaction that comes from serving others. I learned, without words, that you stay and help clean up after an event. By example they let me see and feel the joy of helping others whether by bringing in a meal, helping shovel a neighbor’s driveway or listening to someone’s worries with genuine concern. Some of my happiest memories link to volunteer work, freely giving of my time and being available to share my talents just like I saw them do so often in my childhood.

Photo By Joe Tordiff [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Photo By Joe Tordiff [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Both Dad and Mom gave me experiences that brought me to love the outdoors. As a family we went on hikes, motorbike rides, sledding, camping, horseback rides, trips to Yellowstone and Grand Canyon and countless other state and national parks. We got out on snowmobiles and hung out in a canoe fishing. We build snowmen like no one else could. We had an epic treehouse that Dad designed and built complete with a sandbox, both of which fueled out imaginations. We spent tons of time in the mountains, which feel like a second home to me.

Mom taught me the basics of canning and preserving food. We used to make the yummiest apricot fruit leather this side of anywhere! I still get kind of puckery in my cheeks remembering that sweet/sour taste. Her pickled beets are the bomb. And no one, and I mean nobody anywhere, makes raspberry freezer jam like my mom does. I’ve tried and mine’s only a close second.

I learned to laugh from both Mom and Dad. Raising all of us kids wasn’t easy, to put it mildly, so to hear them laugh out loud was a treat. Their laughter dispelled some of the tension that inevitably snuck into family life and always reminded me that recreation and relaxation and daily laughter help balance out the tough times.

Photo By dave_7 from Lethbridge, Canada (VW Van) [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Photo By dave_7 from Lethbridge, Canada (VW Van) [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons (Not the one I actually drove.)

I know how to drive a stick shift! How many people do you know can drive a vehicle with a manual transmission nowadays? I learned to drive on hills in a dual wheel converted flatbed truck as well as in a VW van. Because of that, driving the largest rental moving van across the country wasn’t all that intimidating a few years later.

I love to read and learn new things. I got that from both of them. That right there is probably key to all the rest of the stuff they taught me. And even now, they’re still learning new tricks, as Dad likes to call it. I hope I’m still soaking in the knowledge when i reach my grownup years like them.

These few things I learned from Dad and Mom have bounced around my head lately. I’m sure grateful to have learned so much. I think I turned out okay, so far at least. They must have done a good job.

P.S.

I’d still like to learn how to whistle like Dad does. Maybe this summer he can teach me.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments
 
 

Are Your Edges Tucked in Neatly or Sprawling?

Friday Letter to my Kids – March 6, 2015 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

Last night your Dad told me I’m predictable. This floored me. Sure I like to have some stability in my life, some routine. I seem to function best when I can anticipate and plan. Aren’t most people that way?

And you four, of all people, know my life has been mostly anything but predictable. I’ve learned to be a chameleon, adapting to all the various hues life’s thrown at me. Sometimes, I’ve felt like one of those Color Race runners, smeared in so much color it’s tough to figure out who’s who. I’m flexible and easy-going. That’s not predictable, is it?

In homage to my perceived unpredictability and spontaneity I even changed my mini chalkboard to this quote recently:

This week's thought...

This week’s thought…

Compared to your Dad, I suppose,  I’m a brick of predictability, a Stonehenge-sized rock of boringness, an Easter Island statue of immovability.

People keep holding up these mirrors that show me I’m not who I think I am. It’s a little unnerving and discombobulating and confusing and annoying.

I am cheerful though, usually. I at least try to maintain cheerfulness amid my staunchly dry toast without butter demeanor. Sitting here at my freshly cleaned up desk and pristine “writing room/guest bedroom” I look at my bulletin board and read these thoughts which daily remind me of my wish to be contagiously happy and sunshiny.

You can read this two ways.
Three things on my daily to-do list.
One of my favorite Psalms.

See, cheery thoughts that I look at multiple times a day. I might be predictable, but at least I’m smiling.

Why do I see being predictable as something negative? I’m not sure your Dad meant it as a negative. He probably said it as a fact, something with no value judgment attached at all.

There’s much to be said for predictability, stability and stick-to-it-iveness. It’s pretty much what keeps the world going forward. But then, so to, the unpredictable, unstable, outside-the-box-thinkers, who never want to color inside the lines or conform to anything. That’s where innovation and invention lives and produces. Mostly, anyway.

This saying also hangs within view from my desk:

photo 3-5 copy 11

A good idea.

It should probably be in Dad’s office and not mine. He has bigger dreams than I have. Mine are tiny and tentative and his are the epic kind that can change the world given a foothold. Or I could make one for each of you, since you’re young when dreams have such promise and possibility.

I guess I’ve always seen myself as a creative thinker. But, really, I’m a schlumpy, by the clock kind of person. I like to be on time or early. I like to have things to look forward to. I like a schedule and a plan. Even if I’m not great at following through with those plans. I need structure.

Where each of you fit on that spectrum, I’m not certain.  I know I’m wowed by what you accomplish and by how fearlessly you face forward. As always, I’m amazed that you’re my kids. I think you’re more like your Dad than like me. And that’s a good thing. A very good thing.

Really, you’re each simply a good mix of both your Dad and me and a bunch of stuff that’s uniquely your own. It’s fun watching you be you. Not a one of you has been predictable yet.

I sure love you!

Mom

~~~~~

“In fiction: we find the predictable boring. In real life: we find the unpredictable terrifying.” ~Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Categories: Friday Letters, Friday Letters to My Kids | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment
 
 

Getting Healthy in all the Right Places

Doctor’s waiting rooms seem ripe with all sorts of possible bad outcomes. Don’t you agree?

I always wish I had my own bottle of hand sanitizer after simply opening the door to go in.

There’s those pens, the ones with flowers taped to them so no one takes one. Who’s going to walk off with a bacteria laden pen from a doctor’s office? Not me! Even minus the fake flower. Not to mention the clip boards. I’ll bet no one has ever swiped a disinfectant wipe across one of those boards o’ infection. The arms on the chairs? Ew. Potential illness abounds.

Let’s not even get started on the magazines from 1990 something, or last year, or even last month. Petri dish some of those pages and see what you come up with!

Brrrr.

Brrrr.

Last month I availed myself of the attentions of a new doctor, an internal medicine specialist. Nice guy. He looks like he’s about the same age as one of my son-in-laws, who happens to be a med student.  Putting my health in the hands of someone so young seems like kind of a scary thought, but then he seems up on the latest studies, schools of thought in Europe versus here in the States. And he takes his time with me. No sense that he’s in a big rush to get to the next patient.

Bonus points for this: he only treats grown ups. Grown ups have complicated, twisty knotted up weirdness in the physical health area. I’d suggest an internist if you fall into that category. So far, I like the guy.

So this young internist writes out a series of tests that he says I need. Labs, scopes, prods, pokes, whatever the heck you’re supposed to do on a regular basis that I (cough) rarely do. So I’ve spent the past month or so doing all that fun stuff. At one of the funner procedures, NOT the one I wrote about, I got put in a little dressing room, put on a gown which would become completely useless in no time, and took a seat next to some nice, crisp, newish magazines. I was told to wait. Or maybe I was supposed to say, “Ready or not, here I come,” when I was decent. I don’t remember.

Anyway, I had a minute to read one of the magazines called “Experience Life.” I laughed when I read the title. Like I need a magazine at my age (relatively young-ish) to tell me anything about experiencing life. I found the idea rather humorous. But, surprisingly this one article caught my attention. In fact, it riveted me to my seat and made me forget my half-nakedness. That’s pretty impressive power.

"Healing Spaces" the book

“Healing Spaces” the book

The title of the article is “Healing Spaces”. In fact you can CLICK HERE to read what I read, only online. It’s written by Esther Sternberg, MD, who excepted it from a book she wrote called Healing Spaces: The Science of Place and Well-Being. I checked it out from the library and can’t wait to read it.

Basically, these ideas took hold when someone noticed that patients who could see trees through their window while they were in recovery left the hospital a full day earlier than those without a natural view. This prompted a variety of studies which have come up with some fascinating conclusions about things that help improve the healing process. Conclusions I happen to support wholeheartedly, based on personal experience.

Don’t you love it when research backs up what you already know? Makes me feel kind of brilliant. Ha!

So what sort of things has this research concluded help us to heal faster? I’m glad you asked. These things right here:

  • Quiet places
  • A place in the sun
  • The presence of loved ones
  • Places that smell good
  • Walking paths and labyrinths
  • Places of belief
The Riparian on a rare rainy day.

The Riparian on a rare rainy day.

All those things already top my list of priorities. My sanity requires regular quiet mornings and my wandering walks. The Riparian Preserve where I walk fills up some awesome smells that change with the seasons and the weather. Living in the desert Southwest I get lots of glorious sunny days.

The baking I love to do makes my home smell heavenly and right now the air is thick with the smell of citrus blossoms. Some of my most cherished moments each week I spend in sacred places. And, I know I feel better and happier when I spend regular time with family and friends.

Based on where I spend my time and this book, I ought to be one of the healthiest people around.

According to my doctor and all those tests, I’m in great health, with a couple of things I need to work on. (Aren’t we all a work in progress, or egress?) I’m pretty sure that the time I spend in all these places keeps me in better health than I deserve. Mentally, I’m certainly saner than I’d be without such places in my life.

So breath deeply, wander some, soak up some rays, enjoy family and friend time, hang out somewhere sacred and luxuriate in a bit of quiet. Your body and your brain will thank you.

~~~~~

“Some people see scars, and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing.”  ~ Linda Hogan

Categories: Mental Health, Nature, physical health | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments
 
 

What A Card!

Friday Letter to My Kids – February 27, 2015 –

Dear J, J, L and L,

So I’ve been slowly sorting through some of those boxes of papers I told you about. It’s like watching a glacier move. Oy vey!

But I’ve run across some real gems among the odd pieces of paper I can’t for the life of me figure out why I still have in my possession. Old church bulletins, receipts from ten years ago, to do lists with half the items scratched off, envelopes with nothing in them, bills from forever ago. Sadly there have even been some grocery ads in the piles.

I shake my head at myself.

But that’s beside the point. The point today is I found treasures among the flotsam!

I’m talking about treasures like this card from Big L. It so perfectly captures the essence of our family life then and now.

Boy, that's an understatement!

Boy, that’s an understatement!

What it says inside is even more priceless.

Which reminded me of other cards you all have gifted Dad and I over the years. Like this one on Dad’s desk, which gets funnier considering the non-scruffy awesome dude Little J ended up with.

Princess Leia rocks!

Princess Leia rocks!

And this one from just last year that I seriously want to frame. Sparkly orange and practically daring me to feel happy, its message has brightened the kitchen and my days for a while now.

Bringing it!

Bringing it!

And this reminder from Little L that in spite of all the weirdness of life we should still dance, love, sing and live with abandon and joy.

Good advice!

Good advice!

I think this card from Big J to Dad captures what family life often felt like for each of you, especially as we moved around so much and finances were rollercoasterish.

Close to the truth, sort of.

Close to the truth, sort of.

Closer, still.

Closer, still.

Getting this postcard in the mail from Switzerland made my day, as did seeing it again recently! I loved that you had that chance, Little J, to explore Europe with nothing but a backpack, a friend and courage. That you made that dream happen in real life, not just once, but twice, makes it even better!

Aw…Switzerland!

Aw…Switzerland!

I know I can’t keep every greeting card from every celebration. But there’s definitely some worth saving. I’m thinking I need a binder just for the best of those cards. They capture funny moments and sweet reminders. You never know when a card you pick out will brighten someone’s day beyond the day it’s meant for. These sure have added light to mine.

You each bring light to my life regularly, often through some remembrance of a time with one of you, a conversation, an event, jumps to the front of my thoughts and briefly I relive the joy, the angst, the laughter, the strangeness, the us of that moment. It gives today perspective and depth and light. You each have, and still do, bring me joy. Exponential joy!! Thank you for that. I’m pretty sure no card exists that expresses quite what I feel toward the four of you.

I look forward to all the future moments we share, whether in person, or through a card, an email, text, Facebook, private message, phone call or Skype. I love seeing your lives opening out and becoming what they are.

All my love,

Mom

~~~~~

Love from Mom

Love from Mom

“What a card” = a phrase meaning an amusing or eccentric person

Categories: Friday Letter to My Kids, Friday Letters | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Clean as a Whistle and Twice as Musical

Posted on February 23, 2015 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful that the day is over with. This is a day I’ve dreaded and avoided for almost five years.

My buddy Kathy used to nag me about this day. I ignored her. And she was not an easy person to ignore. But, I finally did it. She can rest easier now.

And I’m here to say I survived the entire process leading up to today. Which at the time seemed impossible.

Should be a controlled substance.

Should be a controlled substance.

Notice I didn’t say I enjoyed the process. I did prepare as best as I possibly could. I found some great info online which I’ll include at the bottom (ahem) of this post so you can, when you eventually find yourself in need of the info, easily find it for your own reference.

This snippet from Dave Barry helped lighten the mood when I was in the thick of thin things.

Basically if you’re under fifty you can just stop reading now. Seriously. Just stop. Now.

I mean that.

I really do.

Stop.

So if you’re still reading and under fifty, you’re a glutton for punishment. There are things about life that it’s best just not to anticipate. Things like getting older.

As a teenager I swore I would be one of those adults that never acted or got old. I was going to ride my bike to work rain or shine. I would also have one of those I love nature-gardening-healthy-living tans. I would hike mountains even when I got as ancient as forty.

I had this image of adult life based on, I don’t know, zero facts about reality. Things like what pregnancies do to a woman’s body, or how endless years of sleep deprivation take a toll.  Or the harsh reality of how eating chocolate to ward off mood swings leads to harder drugs like diet coke which apparently contains stealth fat cells riding in on non-sugarlike substances magically becoming toxins that make you look hundreds of years old and make you want more chocolate.

My adult life plan pretty much was everything my life as an adult has never even remotely resembled. That sentence made no sense. I blame the drugs from earlier today. And the lack of food.

I’ve only gone without food since 9:30 this morning. But that’s a technicality. Liquids don’t really count as food. Salted carmel is still on the table for whether or not it counts as a clear liquid. I say yes now, but I said no yesterday, which is probably for the best.

I’m just so relieved. (Poor word choice, I know.) But I am literally and figuratively relieved that this is all in the past.

What is it Timon and Pumba say to Simba?

“Ya gotta put your behind in the past.”

Sounds about right.

The dreaded C word happened. and now it’s over and I don’t have to think about it again for ten whole years.

Yes!!

The C word? Oh, not the BIG C word. The little c word. Colonoscopy.

And really, the procedure itself isn’t so bad, especially since I had some happy medication to put me into what the nice doctor called “a chemical sleep.” She put something in my IV then asked me about my best vacation ever and then I woke up. I felt happy and relaxed and so glad to be done.

Next time I'll leave my phone at home.

Next time I’ll leave my phone at home.

In fact, on the way home I kept laughing for no reason. And then I texted my daughter this:

And then I banned myself from the internet for a few hours.

Like most things in life it’s the preparation before hand that takes it outta ya.

I’m talking about the following: A clear liquid diet for twenty-four hours. Followed by four Dulcolax tablets, a gallon of lemon Gatorade mixed with the harshest chemical ever invented and a long night sitting commando in “the reading room.”

My friend texted me this morning to see how I was doing. My response…”I feel drained.”

If you didn’t click on the Dave Barry link earlier, you definitely should now, because 1) no one can describe how my evening went last night better than he does and 2) no way will I attempt to put such an experience in my own words.

Thank goodness for Netflix and it’s portable distraction.

Never ever again will I drink lemon Gatorade. Or think about lemon Gatorade or look at it either. In fact I might be cured of all forms of artificial lemon flavoring for life.

Give me some food, and I don’t mean cucumber honey lemonade. I want a salted carmel sundae and some bruschetta. Well, on second thought, maybe some nice warm creamy soup and some good bread with real butter first.

To paraphrase Maxine, the grouchy Hallmark card lady: “I have inner beauty…and I have the pictures from my colonoscopy to prove it.”

So grateful today, and yesterday, are behind me.

~~~~~

Here’s Twenty-Seven Insider Tips from people who’ve been there done that.

Categories: Gratitude, Gratituesday, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Tiny Toes and Sticky Fingers and The Best Snuggles Ever

Posted on February 17, 2015 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! It’s been a day where I couldn’t narrow down just one thankful thing. The day simply felt abundant and overflowing.

But then, I had some company for the evening. That helped me focus on my best thing for today, or most days for that matter.

Tiny toes, big energy.

Tiny toes, big energy.

See these little toes? They’re attached to a bundle of mischief and non-stop energy. It’s almost miraculous that I’ve ever captured a picture of them at rest. They belong to my favorite one-year old.

She and her sister spent a few hours at my place while their parents took a breather. MSH played his jazzy stuff on the piano while they danced and I looked on, loving their creativity. Then I suggested we trade places so he could see what great dancers they’ve become. They know how to move like you wouldn’t believe. But, sadly, I don’t play the fun songs you can dance to. I play the kind of songs kids sing along with.

The one-year old climbed up on my lap and helped me play the piano, just like her mother used to do at that age. As I turned the pages of the songbook, the Big Yellow Songbook, and played and sang, I realized I’d come full circle again.

You see, my mother used to play those songs for me on the piano while she sang and I looked at the pictures. Then I played for my daughter. And I played for her oldest daughter and tonight I played for the youngest.

I wanted to freeze the moment, take a forever photo. But the one-year old got squirmy and climbed down and the moment slipped away. I suppose an image and a feeling mentally stored is the best I ought to hope for.

I know I’m lucky to get to experience such a collision of past and present. I’m grateful I noticed when it happened.

Life doesn’t usually morph into slow motion complete with background music at the important scenes. Sometimes we don’t have a clue that we just witnessed a pivotal interaction until much, much later. They don’t usually arrive on holidays, or at orchestrated photo sessions, or during recitals or at organized events.

Most of the time the important stuff occurs without fanfare or fireworks.

Thankfully I had a chance to watch dancing and sing songs and, (here’s the important part) I paid attention. Lucky me.

Now my heart is dancing to the music.

Categories: Family, Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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