Magic in the Sky...the Release of Condors from Captivity...

       I believe in the beauty that takes my breath away. I believe in love at first sight and miracles that happen more often than we notice.  I witnessed such a moment tonight as I watched a year old video of a female Condor being released into the wild after a life-saving twenty-two years in captivity.
      I probably watched the video fifteen times as I witnessed what I consider, a miracle. She was a huge raptor with a wingspan of ten feet. It seemed the color of her head was black with a large chocker of white feathers around her neck. The feathers on her massive wings appeared to be black with a touch of silver slipping in and out the black feathers almost the way a woman's hair slowly turns silver. Subtle, but there in the mixture. The Condor did not know what to do. She looked at the massive expanse of canyons in Utah. Hesitating, she turned and looked at the crowd. There were probably a lot of faces she recognized.  She was unsure and tense. The crowd could feel it as well as the video viewers. Something seemed wrong to her. Then she saw other Condors soaring around and through the canyon.  She flapped her wings, flexed her muscles, wanting to fly but changed her mind. She was still unsure what freedom looked or felt like. Her gaze returned to the canyon. She looked it over from top to bottom and from side to side. She wanted to fly but was unsure and afraid. Again she turned to the crowd and scanned the people perhaps asking permission to do the unthinkable. I do not know if she found what she was looking for. She turned once again and repeated the take-off process. Once again she spread her huge wings and for a split second, I thought she would fly. Not this time but soon. The crowd and viewers became as tense as the Condor. No one knew what to do. The ball was in the Condor's court. She was the one calling the shots and the one who had to make the play.  Finally, with all the excitement and courage she could muster she stepped off the huge cliff and flew. She didn't just fly, she soared up, over and through the canyon and the sky. She was in her element and she liked it. It was an amazing sight to see. I wish I could have been there in person but I am easy going.  I take what I can get and enjoy to the maximum. This was a remarkable video. I want to thank Paul Chamberlain in England for always adding this magic to the pot from his side of the pond. Thank you, my friend

     
   
                                             

It Has Been a Long Time Coming...

      Tommy died fifteen months and ten days ago. My mind and my heart followed him to the grave. We were married 48 years and I loved him with all my being. With his death, everything in my life changed.  Where I lived, what I ate, how I ate, my income, my health, my friends, my church, my doctors, even my weight. I lost fifty pounds. Everything in my life changed in a matter of days and weeks. I did not want any of the new changes...except the weight. However, I can think of better ways to lose weight.  I was in a 'fog'.  I call it 'brain dead'.  This is a term used for widows who cannot retain a memory or thought for any length of time.  It is as real as cancer and almost as deadly.  I have very few memories of the funeral. I do not know who was there. I am thankful for all who attended. Tommy was loved by many people.  I have very few memories of the following year. I hear the girls talk and I ask them if I was there.  Usually, they say 'yes'.  It is all news to me. 
    Two weeks after Tommy died I had my right kidney removed due to cancer.  I do not know what hospital I was in.  Nor do I know my doctor's name. The only memory I have of him is that in my mind he looked like Kurt Russell.  I have no clue if he did or not.  I was also in the room with a mean Russian lady.  I wouldn't bet on that one either.  I had a year of Octobers and every day was Friday... and I drove a car in this condition. I picked out a place to live in Fulton and moved in.  I do not remember finding the house. But I do remember moving...sort of.  
    My short term memory is getting better.  My long term memory is normal except for the last two years. They remain sketchy on a good day and are absent on a bad day.  Jesus and my sense of humor have helped me get to where I am today.  I would not want to live without either one.  I am forever indebted to my family and friends. They stepped up and helped me when I could not help myself. 
   I miss reading and music. I can not concentrate long enough to read a book and music makes me cry.  However, I can laugh again. If I had to pick between the four loves missing in my life, I would pick laughter and writing. I am so glad they are back.  I think as I heal the other two loves will fall into place again. 
   When I started this post tonight, what I thought and what I wrote are two different blogs. This blog is more serious than the one I intended to write. I guess that blog will want to be written on another day or night.  I have missed you all.  Much love to all...good night.

The First Ten Months...Part 1

Tommy died ten months ago. I still have no plan for a life without him. I try to create scenarios where I make some sort of plan. It fails miserably, or I forget from one day to the next what my plan of attack for life was supposed to be. So I make a new plan and repeat the process all over again. 
 The truth of the matter is, I want my life back. I really don't want a new life.  I loved my old life. We were happy and very much in love. We were two odd ducks that belonged together. We didn't always act the way we should but we never stopped loving each other. We were married for  48 years and I miss him.  I long to talk to my best friend. I hear him in my head and I know what he would say.  But still...
   It is that simple and that complicated. Tommy died and I didn't.  Honestly, that isn't what I had in mind at all.  I never thought much about death.  We were young and then we weren't.  In my mind, we would die together either in a car wreck or a plane crash. Whatever happened we would be together. We actually had this conversation several times in our life together.  It didn't work out that way and I am mad.  I am angry with Tommy for dying.  I am mad at me for being alive without him with no plan to continue. I miss my old life and I want it back.  And I can't have it. So here I am ten months after Tommy died and I am no closer to living than I was the day after he died. Each day I get up and think, 'ok world what are we gonna do today' and the world does not respond. I make a list of things I could do and then immediately throw the list away.  Most people think I should have moved on and started living.  I am trying. I am trying!! I have nothing that moves me.  It is all 'busy work'.  My short term memory sucks. If I did remember something it is gone by the next day. This odd condition is caused by 'grieving' and 'stress'. Two emotions that have their own agenda to run. There is a good chance I suffer from memory loss from the two long operations I had. The first was the double knee replacement. The other was when my right kidney was removed about two weeks after Tommy died. It was cancer. They got it all and I am on no meds for it. As it stands I am on cancers timetable. Hopefully, we will never meet again. 
   Am I having a pity party today?  Probably. Do I care?  Not one bit. 

Welcome 2019...

   As I write this I am drinking my second cup of coffee in 2019. I am enjoying talking to the early bird risers on FaceBook. I took a quick look at the weather and news. Both could be a whole lot better. I didn't make any New Year's Resolutions last night. I don't think I have ever done this before in my life. I could not think of anything. All I know for sure--I want a new life. A better happy life. My priorities have changed a lot in this past year. We shall see how that plays out in real life. It is the first time in my life that I am only responsible for me. If I don't do it---then it doesn't get done. I am responsible for me and only me. That is kind of a scary thought coming from a woman who had eleven months of "October and one month of December and all 365 days were Friday." The good news I know it is January 1,2019. As for what day of the week it really is? let us say I don't think it is Friday but I wouldn't want to bet my Social Security on the other six days.
  I wanted to touch base with everyone. Thank you for your support this past year. Thank you for standing in the gap for me when I couldn't hold two thoughts together. I have never in my life been this broken. I feel like a jigsaw puzzle that is missing a few pieces. Nothing fits. But that will change with time and I do believe it will happen in 2019. Being willing to accept what cannot be changed is the beginning of healing. 
  I want to thank my daughters, grandchildren, Becky, Darla, Joanie and Barbara and all my friends from long ago. I love you all and am so blessed to have you in my life. I also want to thank all my FaceBook friends that I have built a strong relationship with over these past years. We have never met in person but you probably know me better than my neighbors do and half my family.  I love you all and you are vital to me.  And so important in my life I count on you. When I count my blessings I count you all twice. Here's hoping the New Year is kind to all of us. That we open ourselves to new adventures and new ways to see the old world.  Much love to all, Vicky  

Miz Vicky Gets a Tattoo...Part 2

  When Lisa and I entered the Tattoo parlor, we entered another world. I knew as soon as I walked through the doors, I was in for a new adventure. I could not imagine what the next five or six hours held for us. I knew one fact and one fact only. We were going to have a good time...and have a good time we did.
  It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when we sauntered through the tattoo shop doors. It is a huge place with artwork and oddities all over the walls.  The first thing I saw was a car with a bear rug underneath it.

 I could not take everything in with one look.  The room was as

varied as the people who worked there. There was one young man in a chair waiting for someone to wander in needing his services. His name was "Coop" adorable and funny but not a happy camper.  We were his first customers all day. It was around 4 o'clock and he needed to earn some money. We were more than glad to oblige because we needed two tattoos. As we were making plans for our tattoos a young woman with three children busted through the door.  She was this side of mad.  She yells at Coop to watch the children. One little boy was about five, the second little boy may have been three and the third one was in an infant seat asleep.  She plopped the baby on the counter by us and took off in a rant to an office that we thought was vacant.  The baby slept. The two brothers got in a shoving match and one started crying. Coop jumped up, separated the boys and came back to work on our sketch. I asked are these yours?  He said, "God NO!!" and answered the phone. About this time the mother comes out of the office mad as all get out and rushes out the door, leaving the children behind. Coup writes in an appointment and hangs the phone up. He asked us to watch the baby while he gets the other two set up watching cartoons. About this time the baby wakes up and starts to cry. Coup runs back in the office grabs the baby and runs out the door to an apartment across the street. He is gone long enough to change a diaper. I guess he phoned the manager and asked him to come out of his office and keep an eye on the place just in case he had read us wrong and we were either thieves or kidnappers. The owner knew we were harmless but made small talk with us until Coop arrived from his mission. 

When Coop arrived with the baby in tow we once again discussed our tattoos for about three seconds. That is when another tattoo artist arrives. He is talking up a storm to no one in particular. He had not had a good day either.  About this time I have to go to the bathroom. I asked if I could use theirs. Coop said they didn't have one in their part of the building but I could use the one in the hallway. Fine by me. When I get to the hallway there are two doors the first one was locked and the second one opened into a bar.  When I opened the back door to the bar, everyone turned to see why I was coming in the back door. I no longer have any inhibitions. I do not care what people think. I am so done with that.  It is very 'freeing' to feel this way. So I just told them I had to use the bathroom and the other door was locked. The lady bartender told me I had not walked far enough. The bathroom was around the corner from the locked door. I smiled and started to order a Salty Dog when I figured I had better get back to Lisa. I turned around and made my exit. I found the bathroom and was back in the tattoo shop in no time at all.  Everything was still a little on the chaotic 

      side. The manager went back to his office, the three children were still there. The mother was AWOL, three teenagers had arrived wanting body piercings. The lady who did body piercings was the AWOL mother.  Lisa and I looked at each other and laughed.  

Finally, it was time for our tattoos. Coop was as ready as he was going to be that night. I wanted to go first. We had this all planned and programmed. All I had to do was sit still and let the artist work his magic.  He started with my 'swath of blue background'. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would but my arm started bleeding and Coop was worried. He said it shouldn't be doing that. There was nothing I could do about that. It is just my skin. That is when he asked me how old I am. I told him and he hung his head for a few seconds. He thought I was younger than I am and he was not prepared for the thin skin. Finally, it quit bleeding and the words were completed in a flash, However, I have a blue semi arch at the beginning that looks like it has the makings of being a comet. Anyway, that is what I am gonna do to fix it. Add a silver star at the beginning and throw a couple more stars in the mix and be done with it. It will be pretty when those things are added.

Next, it was Lisa's turn. She was as excited as I was. This was a good day for us. Her tattoo went smoothly. Coop was done in no time at all. Her tattoo was perfect.

I think Lisa'a tattoo is great. As we finished up and I paid Coop, he said, "it is dark and I want to walk you ladies out." He opened the door for us. We were still cutting jokes and laughing. Coop gave each of us a hug and a kiss on top of our heads. He said for us to stay safe and to not make this my last tattoo. Sorry Coop but this is it. I got what I wanted.  "If Not Now...When?" is just what I wanted and the experience was even better.

Miz Vicky Gets Her First and Last Tattoo...Part 1

  I can check another 'want to' plan off my bucket list. I have my first and last tattoo.    
 When Tommy joined the Marines his mother made him promise never to get a tattoo. He kept that promise. However, he did not want me to get one. He never was a fan of tattoo's on anyone. So I told him that as long as he lived I would not get a tattoo. This statement ushered in years of laughter, jokes, and discord. 
  Tommy watched t.v. all the time after we retired unless we had plans to do something. I can go days without turning on the television. My joke and promise to Tommy was if he died first...the remote would go with him. And it did.
  He always told me that he knew I would get a tattoo no matter how old I was if he died first. He was right. I did.
 He intended to fill my casket with all my art supplies and books put me in a boat and float me down the river. We made up all sorts of funny morbid stuff. We knew it was a lifetime away. And then one day it wasn't.
  I never knew what tattoo I wanted. It changed from year to year. I am so glad I did not get the symbol of a hand shooting the bird on my wazoo. I had that one picked out for years when I was young and wore bikinis. It would show above the bikini line. Why??? Who knows. We did a lot of crazy things back then. 
  Several months after Tommy died, I went to Florida to spend some time with Lisa and Lisle. That is when Lisa and I decided it was time for the 'tattoo'. I finally decided on the words, " If not now, when?" That is my new motto for life. Lisa got a dandelion blowing in the wind, with the words "Just Breathe".
   When we entered the tattoo parlor, we walked into another way of life. It was one of the best days of my life...so far.
   

Foot Massage and a Contender for Pimp of the Year...

   Lisa took me Saturday to get a foot massage and pedicure.  We stopped at a little Oriental shop.  We were introduced to  the people who would be working on us for the next hour. Included in the pedicure was a massage from the chair we were sitting in.  I had not experienced the pleasure of either. The lady who worked on me was nice but only spoke very broken Engish to me. Lisa and I picked out a dark sapphire shade of blue for our toes.  I am assuming after the toes were done she turned my machine on high and left.
   Lisa had a fiesty Asian young man with a great sense of humor. We hit it off immediately. He thought I needed a boyfriend. I assured him I did not and that I was fine. He said,
"You color your hair and you look fifteen years younger,"  I laughed and told him I didn't want to color my hair. I earned every one of these silver hairs and I like them."  He wasn't satisfied. He kept on talking b.s. for the duration of the pedicure. He informed me if I got some slinky clothes I could have a wonderful a wonderful time at some club he knows. He offered to introduce me to some of his friends. I laughed and asked him if he was a pimp or an escort?  He just laughed and never did answer the question.
   I do not know who owned the shop. The older lady who worked on me was not amused with his banter.  I thought it was funny.  Lisa and I were laughing and having a good time. That is about the time the older woman returned to adjusted my back massage chair. I thought it was going to beat me to death. I could not have gotten out of that chair by myself if I was dying. Ah, sweet revenge probably from his mother.  Oh well, live and learn.  I bet he got his wazoo chewed after we left. If he got fired, I am sure he knows where to find another job. It is probably called, "The House of the Rising Sun.

One Thing I Know for Sure...I Love to Fly

  I love to fly. Airports are one of my favorite places to people watch. Honestly, as much as I like to read, paint and write, I believe I might like people watching the best. 'People watching' usually leads to my other three interests.It adds fuel to my fire. My trip to Florida was no exception. 
  I arrived at the airport without any trouble until I found out I had to park my car in the long-term parking area. This place happens to be in the middle of BFE. And no one knows for sure where that is---same with the airport long-term parking lots. After almost two hours of near misses, I find myself in the right lane, headed in the right direction. When I arrived there was no one there except 3 other people who were waiting to be picked up by the airport bus and taken to their intended destination to begin their journey. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. We made a few jokes then waited for the bus to pick us up. The bus was there soon. After making it through security, I proceeded to my gate, find a seat and make a quick scan of the people I would be flying with. I was early and there were only about five people there. I took my seat on the side of the wall facing the crowd. It did not take long for the usual nonsense to begin. It is always a different situation but it is still usually a hot mess in the making.  
   Sitting two rows over from me on the outside seat was a lady who clearly was about to have a meltdown. And meltdown she did. She was probably about ten years younger than me. Tears were flowing and she was crying out loud in a few minutes. I got up to walk over to her and two men from airport security walked rapidly down the hall and stopped at her seat. They began to talk softly but firmly to the loud crying woman. They were trying to calm her down without making a scene and to remove her from the airport. That is when I took a seat and began to take mental notes. With my memory condition, it is a fifty-fifty chance I will remember what happened. The way I look at the situation, it never hurts to try. I never did find out for sure how she got through security because she was most definitely on her way to being just this side of drunk. The two young security men asked her how much she had to drink. She told them, "Not much, one at six, one at seven, one at eight and one at nine. I wondered what she had been drinking. She was informed that she would not be flying today. She had already missed her plane. She began to sob and cry loudly. She was not a pretty crier. Her nose ran, she spits on the floor and began to call for help. She got help alright, just not what she intended. Four big security men came out of nowhere. That made six men to her lonesome self. She informed all the men to "step back and not to lay one hand on her. She had been raped before and if anyone touched her she would absolutely flip out on them."  The men backed up and called for a woman security officer. No one came. She kept telling her life story. One young man connected with her on some level. He motioned for two of the men to step back out of sight. The two men standing by the officer in charge,  moved back about twenty feet. I had to scoot over two seats because one of them was in my way. The point of contact officer asked her if she was thirsty. She was and one of the officers got her a glass of water. I was curious to see which of the officers would end up wearing the water. She was calming down and drank the water. Then the officer told her the airlines would put her up for the night and she could fly out tomorrow when she felt better. He had to show her the schedule, talk to his supervisors and finally the two of them walked away. The other officers followed about ten feet behind.
  The next lady to become upset was an older looking hippie woman who told people what to do instead of asking. She informed the steward that she would be back in a minute and was leaving her carry on luggage by her chair, while she took her dog to pee. He informed her that, "no she was not leaving her carry on there". If she did it would be gone when she got back. What a hormonal day it was. This lady wheeled around and said, "That lady over there is my friend and she will watch my luggage." The lady and her husband looked at each other and said, "well ok." The woman threw her shawl over her shoulder, stuck her nose up in the air and her and her dog trotted off in the direction of relief. I got tickled and was laughing to myself as I thought about what all had just happened and we hadn't even boarded the plane. 
  Finally, it was time to leave. In less than three hours I would be in Florida. It was a beautiful flight until lightning struck our plane as we landed. But that is whole different story.... 

I Do Not Belong in this Century....

     I do not belong in this century.  After spending a week with Tami and my grandchildren, this fact has smacked me in the face once again. It is so true. I was sitting at the kitchen table while the kids were working on their homework. That is the only thing that hasn't changed, the kitchen table. However, if I had not been here they would have all been in their rooms.  I asked them where their books were and I was informed they no longer use books they have I Pads. Really???   How can a person develop a love for the written word if they never hold or read, or smell a book? I am one of those people who highlight a wonderful sentence with a yellow high lighter. It can be done on these gadgets but I have yet to see it used. I reread books I can hold. They have become friends who brought me pleasure and answers when I needed them most.
   I have a Kindle and it has about 400 books. Most of the books purchased in the last two years are about cancer, depression, anxiety, hope for patients, how to be a good caregiver and what to expect when it comes to dying.  I read until I could not read anymore. I will never read these books again. I also do not think I will delete them. That was part of our lives for a long time.
   We dropped that subject and they showed me their math or what- ever it is called now. I got up and fixed me a bowl of ice cream. I needed a stiff drink but ice cream would have to suffice. There is no way they could make me understand the necessity of why they had to learn what I saw before my eyes. I got up to go set on the front porch and ponder what I had witnessed at the table. They all understood it perfectly and it made sense to them. Thank goodness because in a few years they will be running the world.
    When I came back in I told them I did not want a vacuum cleaner that will vacuum on demand. They have one now that is round and runs around the house like a grounded spaceship. They looked at each other and laughed. I did too.  We coexist in two different worlds. I like mine better and they prefer theirs. That is fine with me. I am missing all the knowledge they already know. They are missing using their imaginations, daydreaming and wondering about all the what if's.
   This generation is so much smarter than I am. However, they never experienced drinking homemade lemonade while sitting on a porch swing reading, "Gone With the Wind" on a hot July day.
   It is a trade-off. They will make the world better and do things I never thought of doing. I, however, had a real childhood. They do too it is just miles and miles apart in this short time span on Earth.

Looking at Redding Wildfires from 35,000 Feet...

   There are a lot of things in life that cause me to be afraid. I think right now'fire' is at the top of the list.  As we flew around Redding, I could see some of the different fires as they raged along, hungry and not particular about what was in their path. Destroying everything it chose to eat.

 Then I remembered how huge that fire must be to be seen from an airplane miles far away from where it is slowly eating its way across the works of nature and of man.  

  After we landed in Portland, Melodi met me at the airport. We drove to Eugene, Organ where she lives. The next day we drove to Lacey's family on the Rogue River. We could smell the fire and see the smoke.  I was surprised. Another fire had started twenty miles from where we lived. The smoke was drifting down the river.  That fact bothered me. Seeing smoke from 35,000 feet is a lot different to a newbie like me than smelling smoke as it slowly followed the river. We had a wonderful day and I met and became reacquainted with some of Lacey's family. We had a wonderful time and laughed so much. Human nature is an odd little duck. The human race is tougher than most people give us credit for, and we can adapt to just about anything. The fires will be contained and extinguished. Some people will rebuild. New trees will be planted. And life will continue, in spite of the odds against us.

                                

Everyone Should Have an Aunt Fannie Memory....

      It was the summer of 1956 and hot as all blazes when I first met Aunt Fannie. This tiny woman was an aunt of my grandmother, Mamamae. She lived I think in Arkansas or Missouri. She was making her first and last trip to visit her dead sister's side of the family. What an impression she made on me that summer. She looked like a tiny Dresden doll. I thought she was the prettiest lady I had ever seen. She came from another century. It was just by accident she landed in our family; because she sure did not belong in Kentucky in July. If Aunt Fannie was 5 feet tall it was because she was wearing black laced-up leather boots with thick black stockings. Her dress was long and black and almost touched the floor. It had forty million tiny pearl buttons on the waistcoat of her dress. The sleeves of the dress were tailored snug and long, touching her small wrists. She always carried a white lace trimmed handkerchief. I never saw her sweat but she was always on the verge of fainting. She had long snow white hair that reached her waist when she brushed it at night. In the daytime, she wore it braided and wound in a small mountain on top of her head. I thought she was the prettiest person I had ever seen. She belonged in an old western movie, not in our house in Kentucky.
  I think Aunt Fannie lived in the country and had an outhouse for a bathroom. I know using our bathroom made her nervous. So did the fact that we lived so close to Hwy 51. The traffic mesmerized her but it was also very frightening. Coupled with the fact we lived across the street from the jail and I may or may not have mentioned in passing that prisoners escaped all the time. She was nervous the week she stayed with us.
  We took her to Columbus Park and to Cairo. Illinois to eat out. We also took her to see her nephew Noah who lived somewhere across the Mississippi River. Mama had been preparing me all week to meet Noah. She explained that he was very sick. He stayed in an iron tank flat on his back and the machine called an 'iron lung', did all of his breathing for him. I couldn't picture that in my mind. Something didn't sound right. When we arrived Mama told me to be very quiet and not ask a lot of questions. I remember I entered the room. The machine was huge and making all these pumping sounds. Then there would come a huge gust of air as the machine created another breath for Noah. He turned his head and smiled saying, "Glad to meet you Miss Vicky". I screamed and ran out of the room and out of the house crying. I remember I felt sorry for Noah but he scared me to death. Everything about that home was scary. 
  Nearly every home back then had a front porch to sit on and enjoy any breeze that might or might not occur. I set down on the steps and cried. I was ashamed I had screamed and scared Noah. Mama came out and set down to talk to me about polio, I think. I stayed on the porch and Mama went back inside to visit. Granddaddy had already had all the excitement he wanted for the day so he came out to visit with me. He smoked one Lucky Strike cigarette after the other for a few minutes. I guess we stayed a couple of hours. I never entered that house again. We left and took the ferry back across the river. I loved riding the ferry. It was the first time for Aunt Fannie. She really enjoyed it too. I bet it was also the first and only time she was as cool as the breeze that surrounded the boat. It felt wonderful.
  As soon as Aunt Fanny arrived at Mamamae's home she had to go to the dreaded bathroom. When she was through, she could not open the bathroom door. We explained how the small lock worked but the more she tried to fix the door the upset she became. Finally, Grandaddy asked me if I could climb the ladder and crawl through the small bathroom window to open the door for Aunt Fannie. I was so excited about rescuing Aunt Fannie I forgot how tall the ladder was. Once I was in and the door unlocked Aunt Fannie announced that she would be leaving in the morning if a bus ran that day. Lucky for her it did and she got home and back in her comfort zone. I had not thought of Aunt Fannie in forty years until the other day when my old door on the laundry room locked and I could not get in. It was the same kind of lock. The house I live in was built in the 1880's. It has been remodeled and looks very modern and pretty. There are touches of the past here and there. I like that. I forgot about how the old doors worked. My landlord offered to replace the doors but I told him I liked them and touches of the past are nice. It was a good day to take a slow walk down memory lane. I enjoyed the memories. Noah's story became better for him. He married his nurse and she had a daughter. Life became better for everyone. Fall was just around the corner.
    

The Things that Happen When I Least Expect Them...

It is no secret that my mind is working less than perfect. Whatever professional people consider 'normal'. I happen to be a tad off.  I have been assured that all of this will settle down and I will be fine with drugs, therapy, time and as the grieving process becomes less severe as time supposedly heals my broken heart. We shall see. I hope with all of my being they are right. 

Yesterday started out a normal day. I was drinking coffee and enjoying the newspaper when I happened to remember that I needed to cancel my October's dr. appointment since I was going to be in Oregon.  I called the nurse. canceled the appointment and made another one.  No big deal until I look at the biggest calendar I could purchase laying on my kitchen table. It has become my lifeline where I  write everything I have to do for that day and for the weeks ahead. I have birthday's,  dr. appointments and enjoyable things I want to do but are farther down the road in time and I don't want to forget them. Imagine my surprise when I see it is July. I thought for a few minutes it was October. As far as I can remember, I have not had one 'July' day.  I don't know what I have against the month of July but I have fought its existence all month. The month is nearly over and I have yet to get one thing right about July.  It has not existed for me. That is about the time I remember canceling October's doctor appointment. I thought the appointment was next week.  I knew I had to have that one. And my brain shuts down. In my mind when this happens, it is like trying to walk through a field knee-deep in mud, I can't keep my boots on because the mud sucks the boots off.  I can't walk in the mud because there is no bottom where the mud stops. I panic because in my mind I have to be somewhere fast or something bad is gonna happen.  Then everything gets all mixed up and I can't think of anything. It doesn't last long but it seems like an eternity to me. If I get my breathing under control, stop crying and breath then the muddy bubble will disappear,  I will be better.  It doesn't happen every day. I may have two or three 'normal days' and the Bam, I am right back to not knowing what I am supposed to be doing,  It is the scariest thing I have ever gone through.  It is tied up with Tommy's death, his horrible three years of being sick, my unexpected cancer surgery two weeks after he died, The doctors think that it may have something to do with the anesthesia they used for my surgery. They aren't sure how long this could affect the memory in older patients.  It has been reported that this is not unusual for older people!!!  And that is another thing...I do not feel old!  In my mind, I am about 40. My knees and right hip disagree with that but that is their problem. One thing at a time. Right now my brain doesn't feel forty.  Big deal...it doesn't know it is July either!!!

How Hard can an ATM Actually be to Use???

  I have lived a sheltered life.   As a new widow, I have found mundane things that I encounter to be as foreign as walking on the moon.  

  For instance, right after Tommy passed away, Lisa and I were in town on one of many trips to take care of some personal business. We were hungry and stopped at a restaurant to eat. Neither one of us paid any attention to a sign behind the counter that said, "We Only Take Cash or a Check". I had neither the cash or my checkbook with me. I usually pay my bill with my debit card. 

  We ordered our meal and it was delicious. Lisa proceeded to go to the bathroom and I walked up to the cash register and handed the man my debit card and bill.  He is from Ukraine, I think, and in slightly broken Engish he explained the new rules to me. I looked at him and explained that I had neither enough cash or my checkbook with me.  He smiled and said, "No problem, you can use the ATM machine."  Hmmmm, I have never once in my life used an ATM machine. I walk over to the wall where the machine is and I look at it for a few minutes. I really did not know how to use it. I look at the man behind the counter and told him I needed help.  He informed me that 'he could not help me'.  That is when I informed him that we had a small problem.  He informed me that "I had a problem".  We looked at each other while I stifled the urge to walk over and hit him over the head with the cash register.  I had a vivid picture of this in my mind's eye... in living color. However, jail did not seem to be the appropriate place I wanted to mourn, although I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, Tommy would have thought that was funny.

   I turned around to the ATM machine.  I thought I read the directions although they are vague.  I think I must be one of the few people who had never used one. The ATM machine did not care. I tried to go through the proper steps and about that time my mind checked out because I was getting upset. I went totally blank. Could not process one coherent thought. This is what my brain does since Tommy has died. The doctors say it is the way the brain is protecting my mind when I get overwhelmed with life. They assure me I will be fine in time.  However, my Ukrainian friend did not know this and he wanted his money.  Thank God, about this time Lisa shows up and takes over. She knows how to use the ATM and she got our bill paid.  The cashier was laughing. I asked him why he didn't come help me?  He informed me I should have read the sign or use the ATM machine. He told me to have a good day.  The church lady in me failed to show up before I flipped him off and marched out the door...never to return again. I still do not know how to use the ATM but I will...it is on the list right behind...stop letting your middle finger talk.  I think I may have to tape that puppy down for awhile. 

Gettng Miz VIcky to Church on Time....

  I am having a terrible amount of trouble getting anywhere on time. I am not exaggerating when I say my mind is full of memories. I can't remember squat in the present.
  I have always been a dreamer but this is getting ridiculous. I never liked playing in left field.
 I am attending on Tuesday morning a Women's Prayer group. It is a wonderful time of healing, except after five visits, I still do not know any of their names. I told them at the beginning how my life and memory happens to be right now. They understand.
   Last Wednesday night I was going to church. I got it in my head it started at 7 p.m. I looked at my watch and it said 7:05. I live close to the church so I could be there in 5 minutes. Imagine my surprise when I get there and there are no cars. I saunter into the church and there was one young man in the room. I said is church starting late. He told me "No it starts at 6:30...you missed it". Last week I made it on time. I simply forgot what time I was supposed to be there this week. 
   Sunday morning I go to Sunday school and I am 10 minutes late. I crack open the door just a little bit and announce that I am late. Everyone started laughing as I walked through the door explaining what all is going on with me. I love that group of people---whoever they are. 
         My doctor assures me that this is normal for someone who has been through all that I have in a short period of time.  He is confident I will be normal as soon as my mind and brain have had time to heal.  That makes me feel better---I only wish I could remember his name too. Thank goodness I have his card.
  

P.S. I will also straighten up Willie Nelson as soon as I finish this blog. I swear it looked straight when I hung it!!! 

Getting Adjusted to Living Alone...

  Good morning world.Since Tommy's death and my surgery I have had a horrible time with my memory. Two and a half months later. I am better but the memory part isn't 100% yet...however it is improving and I can remember things now. After his death, I could not hold a single thought in my head for more than a few seconds. We were all getting worried. I asked the same questions over and over. I forgot the answer almost immediately. We were all worried that I might not get better. My doctor told me that I was in shock and my mind had held all the stress it could hold. It was shutting down for my brain's protection. I am 70% better. I still forget things at times but no where near as much as before. These past two months have had some scary days.
   The same week I moved into my rental home I purchased all new furniture. There were many special items I brought from home but for the most part, I wanted a place of my own. Tommy is everywhere in the new house, however, when you walk into my home you know it is mine. Our home we shared since 1978 was our home. When anyone walked into our home, you knew it was Tommy and Vicky's home. The only furniture I brought from home was my writing desk, recliner and the futon we purchased the last year before Tommy died. Many a night he slept in his recliner and I slept on the futon because it hurt him to lay down. The eagle picture was started by Tommy for a Christmas present for Melodi or Logan. He never finished it and never decided who he wanted to have it. 
  I purchased two new area rugs for the living room and my piece of home--the art room, as it has come to be called. 

  It is also the room where I spend most of my time. Either there or on the front porch. I love having a porch again. The walls are a tan/ brown color. My camera always adds too much yellow to the photos.

  
  I thought I would spend most of my time in the living room. It is exactly what I wanted and I love it. I find myself in the art room, especially at night. I have Netflix on my computer and I spend a good portion of my time in there watching "The Ranch",
with Sam Elliott and Debra Winger. Below is a photo of the living room. 

On the wall opposite the sofas above is the fireplace/bookcase and t.v. stand. I purchased this while Tami and Melodi were here and fifteen minutes later I did not remember buying it. In fact, I still do not remember, I am thrilled I liked it when it arrived. 

Yesterday a pair of Cardinals landed in my front yard. Tommy dropped by to let me know he was fine and he missed me. I hear him talk all the time in my head. It is comforting---he still cracks me up. I don't know if it is him or my imagination. However, I knew him so well, I knew what he would say at times. When you miss someone you loved, you take what you can get.

The House Next Door...

   Yesterday was a big day for me. I picked up the keys to my rental home. It will be the first time in my life I have ever lived alone. In this day and age it is almost unheard of but remember I got married in 1969. I went straight from my parents to Tommy. I am really not sure how I feel about this house. What I want, I can't have so this is my next best option.
   I like my little house. Of course, I haven't moved in yet. It is convenient. It is in close walking distance to the brick district. I have a front and back porch.  It can be mowed with a push mower so that is all a plus. I can have fun making my backyard pretty.  While standing outside, I heard a rooster crow. I thought that was odd. I didn't see any chickens and I am in the downtown part of Fulton. I waited a little longer to see if the rooster crowed again. Nothing happened. I chalked it up to an overactive imagination and turned around to check out the front yard. It is very small and that is great. About that time the rooster crowed again. It sounded like it was coming from the condemned house next door to me. My landlady was still touching up some places with paint. I asked her if the house next door was vacant or had been condemned by the city. She said, "Yes". I was relieved and told her about the rooster. She stopped what she was doing and said something to the effect of, 'that crazy man is back.' I immediately wanted to know 'what crazy man' and how could he live in a home literally falling in and does the rooster belong to him???  She shrugged it off with a 'mmmm yes'. I swear I heard Tommy laugh!!! In fact, I heard Tommy laugh for several minutes while I mosey over and peek at the house next door. I didn't get too close to the house. I noticed some of the dead branches from "the crazy man's' tree are laying on my roof. To be continued as soon as Tommy quits laughing, the rooster quits crowing and I get my nerve up to move in.

Just Walking Each Other Home. . .

  I did not intend to write a blog any time soon, if ever again. However, this blog has evolved over several nights. I think it wants to be written.
  Tommy and I were freshmen in high school.The year was probably 1963. He was sitting behind me in Mrs. Walker's English and Literature class. We were studying Literature at that time. I always had a love for poetry. We were studying the works of Edna St. Vincent Millay. As usual, I was not prepared for class. When we read the poem aloud, I was visibly shocked by how calm the mother talked to her children and in the last line I understood how broken the mother's heart happened to be. I turned around, talking to Tommy about it. Mrs. Walker immediately wanted to know what we were sharing. I told her the truth and how the poem felt like it cut through my heart. She smiled. Mrs. Walker knew I had learned a life lesson about empathy. Tommy and I mentioned this several times in our life together. 

               Lament
   
          Listen children:
          Your father is dead.
          From his old coats
          I'll make you little jackets:
          I'll make you little trousers
          From his old pants.
          There'll be in his pockets
          Things he used to put there,
          Keys and pennies 
          Covered with tobacco;
          Dan shall have the pennies
          To save in his bank.
          Anne shall have the keys
          To make a pretty noise with.
          Life must go on,
          And the dead be forgotten;
          Life must go on,
          Though good men die;
          Anne, eat your breakfast;
          Dan, take your medicine;
          Life must go on;
          I forgot just why.

    Tommy and I often misquoted this poem throughout our life together. He will never be forgotten that is a promise I can make and have made a thousand times or more.          

This Has Been an Odd Week---Even for Us!

 This has been an odd week and for us, that is unusual, because we do odd on a daily basis most weeks.
 The toe to the left is my accident I had on Saturday morning. I was carrying wood into the living room. I was in a hurry to get the wood in the house. Instead of carrying it with both arms, I had one piece in each hand. They were heavy, round and I was not watching what I was doing. As I walked around my recliner, the piece of wood in my left hand slipped out of my grasp and landed full force on my big toe. I dropped to the floor and yelled like a little girl, a very colorful little girl. I woke Tommy up and he thought I had hurt my knees again. One look at the toe and I knew we were going to the emergency room and have my toenail removed. My feet are my Achilles Heel--no pun intended. I cannot stand for anyone to touch my feet; especially grab my big toe. I yell and carry on something terrible when Tommy grabs my toe! When Tommy turns it loose war has been declared. It is all in fun but this time was different. Tommy said we need to go to the emergency room. I played like I didn't hear him. He said it again. This is how he does me when I am trying my best to get him to the emergency room. I know exactly how he feels. I wait for two hours before I decide we need to go to the hospital. Blood is everywhere. We get that mess cleaned up. I don't care how I look. I just want to get this over---without needles. Fat chance of that.

   Tommy is in the bathroom, and I decide to feed Sabella before we go. I hobble out to the garage, fill the dog bowls and look around for a minute. Stuff is knocked over and out of place. I look behind a piece of plywood stacked up and there is the sickest mangiest coyote I have ever seen. We just looked at each other. Neither one of us could run.  He didn't growl or try to move. He stared at me and I stared back. Neither one of us knew what to expect from the other one. I hobble back to the house and yell for Tommy. I tell him to come quick we have a sick coyote in our garage. Tommy looked at me like I had just grown a third ear. Then I grab my camera. Tommy wanted to know why the hell I was taking my camera to the hospital. I told him I wasn't but I wanted to get a photo of the coyote in our garage.

 Tommy just shook his head. We get the picture and my wazoo in the car and we drive to Fulton to the Emergency Room. I was the only person there and was admitted as soon as I showed my insurance card. Everyone was super nice. We laughed a lot. Humor helps with pain if the situation isn't too serious. In about 30 minutes the toenail was off and I was ready to go home. Tami, Jacy, and Logan were waiting for us as we walked out the door. They followed us home and made our day. 
 I am so glad I married Tommy. We fit and belong together. For about two hours Tommy was taking care of me. His appearance changed and he looked like my Tommy again. It was worth losing a toenail.  When we got home the coyote was gone. Where I have no clue. How did he move? I have no clue. Maybe it was God showing off--he does that from time to time. It is a gentle reminder that He is in charge and has things under control. I am counting on that fact. The coyote could have been a reminder. I hope he is well wherever he is.

I Should Have Been Born Two Hundred Years Ago. . Although I Wouldn't Swear to It...

 I am not satisfied with life in general and the world in particular. Big deal--who is? I am sure there are a lot of dead people who would trade places with me in a heartbeat...literally. Very few people I know are satisfied with where they live, their job or lack of a job. Many are worried about their health or the health of a loved one. People are homeless, hungry and desperate. Countries are at war and have been for years. Our children are no longer safe in schools. Anyone can walk in and commit random murder on children just because they want to do this. None of these truths are new. The world has always been a mess and a dangerous place to live. Now we have twenty-four hour a day access to the world we live in on our computers or television. We see the carnage, we hear the people scream and die or scream and kill. It is all right there with a touch of the remote control... in living color.
   Tommy and I were talking about what era we would have liked to have been born in. Tommy said he would have liked to lived when the Pony Express was created. I can see him doing this. I would have wanted to make the wagon train trip to Oregon. Tommy cannot see me doing this but I can. He said I would have been kicked off the train the first time it rained for a week and I had to push the wagon. He has a point. Not a very nice one but he does have a point. I think there could be a distinct possibility this unfortunate incident could have been discussed. However, I would have made the trip. My wagon may have been moved to the end of the line but I would have still made it. Both eras we liked were filled with violence, sickness, Indian attacks, rustlers, robbers and just about anything a person's imagination can create, could have happened. It was as violent then as it is now. Maybe more so. There were no news channels running twenty four hours a day to show the world at its worst
   When I unplug from the world, I calm down and relax for a little while. All the people who lived before us did not need this luxury. They did not know what was going on in every area of the earth. News traveled much slower then if at all. We can know what is going on in China with the flick of a switch.
 Our life span is longer. Most people were wore out, old or dead by the age of forty five. 
   Life breeds life. We live longer and I think we have moments of pure bliss, followed by all Hell breaking loose. The same as all who came before us. This cycle will keep repeating itself until someone finally destroy's us all. What a cheery place to end my thoughts tonight. Sorry about that my friends but I believe this is one of those truths none of us want to hear or see.

This Week Could Have Been a Scene from an Alfred Hitchcock Movie. . . Day 1

 This has been an insane week. Starting on Monday, the Hounds of Hell began yelping; and they have yet to shut up! Tommy had a doctor's appointment at Boone Hospital. His arrival was 1 p.m. The procedure for endoscopy of his pancreas was scheduled for 1:30. These procedures seldom last more than a couple of hours maximum. We are sitting in the waiting room listening for Tommy's name to be called. 1:30 arrives and leaves. So does 2:30. I become a little antsy. I take a walk and try and find a nurse. Last words Tommy says is, 'don't get in any trouble.' Like I would!. I mosey on back to the patient care area and there is no one in sight. Not one nurse, not one patient, not one janitor. I come back to the waiting room and ask Tommy if he is sure we are at the right place. He is positive we are at the right place. By then two other women have arrived and are in various stages of crying. I ask them if I can help and they said in unison "No, but thank you".  I tell them if they need me I am on the other side of the room divider. Finally, I walk back to our side of the waiting area and Tommy is dozing. I pick up a 2015 magazine and try to find something I haven't already read. It was no use. My mind was far from India and Peru. About this time a nurse comes up to us and asks us to follow her back to the room where we will meet the doctor and he will explain some things to us.    Alright!!!, we are about to get this show on the road. Tommy is given a gown and two hours later the doctor shows up.The doctor said he was running late because of emergencies, but that hopefully, he would be with us soon.  Keep in mind Tommy had been NPO since midnight and he is diabetic. It is close to 4 p.m. We sit in two comfortable chairs and drop off to sleep. I wake up at 5:30 p.m. The parking lot has lost three-fourths of the cars that were parked there earlier in the day. All of the dusk to dawn lights are on. The apartments across the street have a few lights randomly shining. No one is walking around in the houses or the parking lot. I get a creepy feeling something is wrong. That is when I decide to take another walk. Once again there is dead silence. There are no secretaries, no nurses, no doctors, and the janitor still hasn't shown up.I turn and walk down the other hallway. It is as empty as our hallway appears to be. Finally, I reach a room with a light on and there sit the two ladies who were crying earlier. Without thinking I blurt out, "Thank God you are here!! I thought the rapture had happened and we missed it.!!!"  They started laughing and said, "Well, I hope not" One of the ladies informed me her husband was the reason everything was screwed up. He had not eaten anything in three weeks. He could drink fluids but he was in so much pain they brought him to the hospital. Evidentally, he didn't want to come but they told him if he didn't he would die! I sat down with the ladies. Of course, we start talking about our husbands. One of the ladies said," My husband has been so sick and refused to come to the dr. He thought the drive was too far. They live down at the Lake of the Ozarks. She began to cry again. I told her that when mine talked to the doctor he seldom gets anything right. She gave me a knowing laugh. I apologize to her for the remark about the Rapture. She started laughing and said," That is the funniest thing I have heard in weeks! And I desperately needed to laugh. Just wait until I tell our church family about it, everyone will get a good laugh." I bet Tommy and I are on their prayer list. About this time, my stomach growls sounding like a herd of turtles marching across a gravel road. The lady asked me if I had eaten anything. I told her no because he was NPO and I don't like to leave when he is having a procedure done. She said, 'all I have left is an oatmeal cookie. But you can have that. I grabbed it and said,"Thank you", about a million times. It was the best oatmeal cookie Little Debbie had made or I have ever eaten. I heard someone singing sort of and I walked around the corner to see the janitor peeing in the urinal while blasting away on,"Amazing Grace". I tiptoed back and made a slow dash for my room to wait for Tommy. About ten minutes later the janitor pushed his cart down the hall singing,"Thank You, Jesus". By now it has started to rain...as in pouring down hard, heavy rain. I am the designated driver because Tommy will be loopy and I have night blindness. I can't see anything when I drive at night and Tommy will be just this side of drunk. It is raining very hard by the time Tommy is able to leave the hospital. It is after 9 p.m. and an hour drive in good weather. He was not a happy camper with my driving but he really didn't want to walk. We made it home. We needed to get up early the next morning and go back to the VA for a blood draw and another procedure. The dr. ordered a CMP lab work up in two days. Thank God he did. To be continued...