Posts Tagged With: Gratituesday

 
 

Full Circle Moments

It’s Gratituesday! Today I remembered a bunch of different camping experiences. Places with names like Tony Grove, Emigration Canyon, North Fork, Minnetonka. These places, and dozens of others shaped who I became.

A stand of Quaking Aspen trees. My favorites.

A stand of Quaking Aspen trees. My favorites.

Activities included wandering among the pines and quaking aspens, skipping rocks, hiking trails, burning marshmallows and hotdogs and best of all, poking sticks into the campfire while singing songs and hearing stories. Nothing felt better or more freeing to me than hanging out among the peaks and valleys of the mountain west.

Similar experiences, I hope, shaped my own children’s lives when we went camping. Some of my favorite mom moments involve trickling streams, rock climbing, rappelling, rainy camps and lots of mud and dirt. We camped from the Cascades in the Northwest, in the rolling hills of North Carolina, and in the flatlands of Oklahoma and even in Arizona’s mountains.

One tiny example: I still laugh when I remember one trip where my two youngest gave each other titles, Queen of the Flame and Little Muddy Foot. You can imagine what that must have entailed. I believe a pile of unmelted spring snow sat about ten feet from the tent on that trip. Good times!

Trees and sky on a slope in the mountains.

Trees and sky on a slope in the mountains.

Today I saw photos that let me know that love of things outdoors has translated across generations. My youngest grand “hiked” on her daddy’s back with her mom beside her (my oldest daughter) to a stunning peak of over 11,000 feet! Their smiles said it all! Pride, joy, freedom, peace, accomplishment, solitude and togetherness, all packed in to one amazing experience.

Part of me felt transported to that mountain top (where I’ve never actually been) and to the woods of Oklahoma and the peaks of the Northwest and back even further to countless childhood camping trips.

Is there anything more joyful than seeing those we love embrace the same things we love? I think not.

I have a lifetime of gratitude filling my heart today. Thanks Dad and Mom for planting and nurturing the love of outdoors deep within me. Thanks MSH for wholeheartedly supporting my little obsession way back when. Thanks to my kids for being good sports and going along with us, (not that you had much choice, I suppose.) And thank you for passing along that fun to your own current and future families.

I wonder sometimes if heaven will have mountains and lakes, tents and campfires. I sure hope so!

Best. Lake. Ever.

Best. Lake. Ever.

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A Short List of Good Stuff Like Love and Sandwiches

It’s Gratituesday! My life overflows with good stuff and I’ve been a slacker about acknowledging that. Here’s a short “list” of some of the yummies I’ve experienced lately.

Carless

Sure I’m without a car at the moment and have to bum rides everywhere, all the time; but hey, people are kind and generous and willing. I discovered Lyft which has bailed me out for a very reasonable price. And my son and his sweet wife have helped out a ton! There’s a vehicle on the horizon so i’m not in this pickle for much longer. Good thing too, because smelling like pickle juice isn’t fun.

Bent Axle

Bent Axle = bummer

Bent Axle = bummer

And yeah, (add tragedy to inconvenience) I bent the axle on my trusty mountain bike so I haven’t been able to ride for a while, but MSH has okayed and provided the funds for the purchase of an upgraded, snazzier, last-me-for-a-lifetime set of dirt and rock worthy wheels. I just have to pick one out and I’m out on the trails again before the sunrise.

The Heat is ON!

Yes, it’s true, summer is here to stay for another three, or four, or five, months and it’s unbearable outside, but I have AC that’s recently been repaired and I can stay inside and keep cool most of the time. Mornings are, sometimes, cooler than the rest of the day so I can knock out the lawn mowing and trimming and other yard work then without risking my life. And, a friend of my son recently gifted me his no longer needed electric mower, which rocks so completely I can’t even describe how happy I feel. I can plug the thing in and zip around the patch of lawn and be done without ever having to curse, throw out my back, prime the thing or wish death on the inventor of the gas-powered lawn mower motor.

Up Close Love and Sandwiches

Good idea.

Good idea.

And, yes, my kids have scattered to four different states, but one of them still lives here in town and just treated me to lunch at Ike’s Love and Sandwiches today, complete with free desert lollipop.  (If you’re local I’d definitely recommend them, on Alma School Road. I hear they’re in Cali, too.) I couldn’t ask for a kinder, more thoughtful son. He always makes sure I feel loved and cared for. Everyone ought to be so lucky!

Long Distance Love

Yup, my girls all live far away, but I can talk on the phone (no long distance charges like it would have been years ago) and Skype/Google Hangout (if I ever get it figured out) and text and get photos all I want. They’re each happy, healthy, and “living the dream” and that makes me happy. Did I mention another “grand” is on the way in November? Can’t wait!

Traveling Writer

There’s a couple of trips in my future. I get to hang out with my extended family for a bit. And then, later on I’ll spend some time with one of my daughters and her family. Here’s a bonus: I don’t have to drive all day or multiple days to get there, I get to fly. Does that feel amazing or what?

Surprise Gifts

K for Kami!

K for Kami!

One of my sisters sent me these adorable earrings. She gets me. Scrabble and me are like tight friends. She rocks. I get to hang out with her real soon, which will ramp up the cool factor of my summer by at least fifty.

Read This

I started reading again. That’s big news! It’s been a while since I’ve been able to focus long enough to really take in a book. Not sure why. But my reading groove is back. Last week I read two books. Yes! TWO! (Check out “Lila” by Marilynne Robinson, her writing puts you walking on the road next to the main character, shivering along with the snow blowing and praying out loud beside the forlorn.)

Volunteer Work

Sure I wake up wondering what day it is, every, single, morning. But, I’m still mostly upright and coherent and able to volunteer two days a week at one of my all time favorite places in the world. I get to rub shoulders with great people, feel centered and peaceful and help people out in really cool ways. I keep praying my back behaves, my health cooperates and my attitude stays positive so I can keep doing that.

Clap, clap, clap!

Clap, clap, clap!

Feeling Blessed

I hope none of this comes across as bragging or anything like that. I just feel super blessed today. In fact, generally I live a life overflowing with things I can express gratitude for. It’s amazing!

You know what? I’ll bet you do, too.

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A Celebration of Family

Posted on May 26, 2015 by Kami

It’s Gratituesday! I’m feeling incredibly grateful today for my oldest daughter and her husband.

They found each other a few years ago and their friendship blossomed into a family.

Photo By JAKeeran (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 ], via Wikimedia Commons

The historic Pioneer Museum of Colorado Springs. Photo By JAKeeran (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 ], via Wikimedia Commons

The two of them invited friends and family to a wedding celebration this past weekend that they put together themselves. They wanted to share the incredible joy they’ve experienced! What a great job they did in communicating that exuberance.

Few things feel as good to a parent as seeing their child loved and cherished and happy. I saw that in phenomenal ways during the reception as friends and family embraced, literally and figuratively, this generous and loving pair.

Two extended families, his and hers, radiated and received love. In addition, the unique family that close friends become also encircled and shone, illuminating clearly what kind, caring, fun, generous, smart and wonderful people my daughter and my son-in-law are.

I feel honored and blessed to be part of the intersecting circles that bind and surround and enclose them. I feel even more blessed because their union has brought me a joy-filled granddaughter with an endless smile, who adds meaning and wonder to my already overflowing life.

Family brings a sweetness beyond imagining.

Family brings a sweetness beyond imagining.

To make the weekend even better, as if that were possible, my other three children and their spouses and children were all there as well. Knowing it’s the last time in a long while that our entire family would be together like that, I basked in the glow like a sunbather on a beach. I found myself soaking in the goodness of every moment, every laugh and moan, every child’s cry and whine,  every inside joke, every bit of family angst and craziness. It felt so perfect. Even the two granddogs and the grandcat were around for some of the weekend’s plans, if you can imagine that.

Happiness overflowed and leaked out my eyes for days. Who knew joy was such a messy, handkerchief soaking thing?

Thanks Jen and Jef for a phenomenal weekend. You are so loved! You’ve blessed my life immeasurably!

~~~~~

“A perfect marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other.”

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Bicycle Heaven

It’s Gratituesday! I’m grateful that I’ve rediscovered my bicycle.

About four years ago I told myself I wanted to “access my inner twenty-year old.” I didn’t think that’d be very difficult, since mentally I mostly feel twenty years old anyway. In fact, when I accidentally catch a view of myself in a mirror I’m always surprised by the older face staring back at me. I sometimes don’t even recognize who it is.

Now I’m thinking I should have stretched a little further and tried to reach my inner sixteen year-old. That chick could haul herself up a two-mile hill on her ten-speed bike and still ride another twenty miles. A fearless, nearly worry-free young woman zipping around traffic, taking a break at the local college campus duck pond, she could eat three Dunkin’ Donuts with no concern whatsoever for their calorie count or nutritional value. She didn’t care what anyone else thought about her either.

What a life. What a woman!

Where did she go?

She’s still in here. I found her a few weeks ago when I bravely strapped on my bike helmet, hefted my leg over my mountain bike’s seat and set out on a short two-mile ride. She and I rode four miles instead and felt amazingly free and energized.

Then we rode the next day, a bit further, a bit faster.

Last Friday that inner sixteen year-old and I went almost nine miles and had energy to spare.

A short break to admire the view.

A short break to admire the view.

We prefer trails and winding paths to roads and sidewalks and will search those out in the weeks and months ahead. Will she and I attempt any mountain trails? Nah, probably not. I do, after all, still have the body of a middle-aged woman, one that hasn’t been very well cared for or pampered. But it’s healthy enough that it can take me and the inner sixteen year-old out on some adventures, beyond the walking paths of the local bird refuge, beyond strolling the city park.

Something crazy happens when I’m sitting in the seat of a bicycle. I can’t define it or decipher it. Freedom, maybe. Youth, perhaps. Self-sufficiency, could be. Whatever it is, I don’t feel like I’m “acting my age” when I’m pedaling a bike. But that’s not important. Who says I can’t ride? No one.

Oh, and don’t worry. No spandex is harmed or used in the making of this wondrous experience. I go more for the rugged-mountain-biker-who’s-been-lost-in-the-woods-too-long look. And I do slow down when I’m in the vicinity of rabbits. They seem confused by humans on bicycles and can dart in front of you with no warning. (A very similar experience to driving a car around Phoenix.)

I’ve had people laugh at me on my bike.Yeah, it happens. I don’t have a svelte biker’s body, hardly. (Hence, no spandex.) But I have the soul and heart of a young girl on her aunt’s hand me down 1950’s bike. That girl discovered something wonderful when the wind blew her hair out of her eyes as she propelled herself anywhere she wanted to go.

That young girl, that teenager, this middle-aged woman, we’re all grateful for two wheels, a well-oiled chain and pedals to take us anywhere we want to go anytime we want to go there.

Life doesn’t get much better than that.

Categories: Exercise, Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments
 
 

The Nose Knows

It’s Gratituesday!! I’m sure I’ve mentioned before how much I appreciate my lovely nose and it’s amazing abilities to open up the world and all it’s delights to me. Today I’m once again thankful for that sense, but in a different way.

You see, I’ve been extra sensitive to smells lately.

Maybe I’m just finally coming out of the seasonal allergy haze and fog.

While reading out on my front porch swing I distinctly noticed a smell I knew that I knew but couldn’t identify at first. I kept reading, but part of my brain went on a search for the name of the smell drifting about the front yard. It smelled vaguely of rain, but looking up I noticed not a cloud touched the sky. Then I looked around and finally saw the source and explanation of the smell. It resembled rain only in that water and cement were conversing. Water ran down the gutter in front of my house, just a small trickle, but enough to set my nose tingling.

Photo By Keith Weller%2C U.S. Department of Agriculture [Public domain]

Photo By Keith Weller%2C USDA [Public domain]

Went out for burgers with MSH the other night and the shake had a smell I couldn’t let go. Made it difficult to enjoy the ice cream. I asked him to smell it and he said, “smells like raspberries and vanilla ice cream.” I thought it smelled a little too…dairy farm. Perhaps the metal shake mixer hadn’t been washed very well all day. I don’t know.

I’ve noticed my hands continue to hold on to scents even after I’ve washed them, particular after doing yard work. Dusty, sweaty, soil-ish, leafy, rocky, rake handley. Yes the handle of a rake has a smell. Don’t believe me? Go out to your garage or shed and see what I’m talking about.

Tomatoes hanging on the vine send a distinct smell into the back yard. That’d be expected if I touched the plant, but I was quite a distance from the green and pink orbs and still felt very aware of the tang of tomato leaf.

Have you ever smelled carrots just pulled from the ground? That, my friend, bares experiencing. Mmm, good. Even if you don’t like carrots.

Right now some trees are blooming with big purple clusters. To me they smell like artificial grape flavoring. But I’m probably off my rocker. And then, my son’s been using wood tools in the garage which leaves behind the delicious smell of sawdust, which is a favorite scent, right next to campfire smoke and bacon mixed with fresh mountain air.

Even rinsing the split peas recently to make use of the leftover Easter ham placed the smell of those peas into my head like a thick curtain. Have you ever noticed the smell of split peas? I don’t remember ever noticing how they smell. Sure, the soup cooking smells great, but that’s a different thing than just wet split peas. Try it some time.

The smell of a swamp cooler has made its way into my truck, which makes no sense whatsoever. Sure I’ve run the AC a bit since we’ve flirted with temperatures in the nineties, but where would a damp smell come from in the dry air of Arizona?

Photo By Jeremie63 (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

Photo By Jeremie63 (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

I think it all started a few weeks ago when MSH spilled milk on the family room rug. He hadn’t mentioned it to me since he cleaned it up as best he could with some towels, but a day later the whole house smelled like something had died. I cleaned out some weird places trying to find the source of that horrific smell. Finally, MSH mentioned the milk spill and that explained it all. We dragged the 8×10 foot rug outside to the patio table and hosed it off, scrubbed it, hosed it off again and let it dry for two days. The smell went away, but my nose, apparently, never recovered from the assault.

Now I notice every little molecule of weird smells.

The difference in the toothpaste I use and the toothpaste MSH uses smells distinctly separate. And bread just a couple of days old starts to smell too yeasty for my palate.

Surely you’ve noticed that the DMV smells like stale cigarette smoke mixed up with shoes that have been left out in the sun for a month. As if that place doesn’t have enough reasons to avoid it.

If you happen to see me with a sour or confused look on my face, don’t take it personally. I’m probably just deciphering some odd smell that’s attacked my senses. It’s been an interesting olfactory journey the past few weeks for which I’m strangely thankful.

In the meantime I think I’m going to get some spicy Thai food and see if I can’t shock the old schnoz into behaving normally.

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

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

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

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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
 
 

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.

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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.

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