life situations

it is what it is

It Was A Pretty Sunny Day

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“Mom?”  It was a question fraught with  incredulous amazement.

As I turned my head, I could see my daughter out of the corner of my eye, looking at me in the same way her voice sounded, with incredulous amazement.

“I thought that was you.  What are you doing?”

But wait.  Let me start at the beginning.  It was a sunny day, a nice day to go for a walk to the grocery store.  That’s how it all started, with just a typical, sunny day.

makes you wanna DO something

The grocery store was only three or four blocks away, as are most of the stores and businesses in this little no-stoplight town, so I decided to just walk to pick up the two or three items I needed.

Apparently, several other people had thought the same thing as well because I met some on the way to market (I love that phrase) and chatted up a storm.  I have to say I am chatty and love to visit when given the opportunity; that’s what we do in rural areas (or count corn and soy bean rows).

corn rows

So by the time I got to the grocery store, I was in a good mood and feeling even more chatty.

And I wasn’t disappointed either!  After I got my cart and began to mosey down the aisles, I bumped into one here and then another there, chat-chat-chat.  The more I talked, the more items I put in my cart.    As the cashier rang up my purchases, we, of course, said a word or two in passing, and then it was out the door to get in my car.

When it was all said and done, I had at least three well-filled sacks of groceries:  gallon of milk, cans of something or other, heavy stuff.  “Where in the heck is my car?!” I walked around to the side of the building.  “Now, what the heck?” Then it dawned on me:  I walked.  Four blocks to be exact.  Maybe ten.  At this point, the weight of those sacks of groceries was distorting my spacial recollection.

There was nothing to do but hoof it.  So off I went, and actually did pretty good until the last block.  By that time I was all bent over just trying to maintain some sort of grip on those sacks, contemplating just leaving them there to go get the car.  But I could see my house!  I could make it!

That’s when I heard the voice filled with incredulous amazement.  My daughter had driven up the road and saw this little figure carrying all these sacks.  “I thought you were some little girl!” Not said in a nice way to make me feel young, cute, or vibrant.  More incredulously amazed that a grown woman with children old enough to drive a car would be contorting on the public way, grappling  sacks of food stuffs.

I didn’t care how she said it.  I just hightailed it into that vehicle and went home.

YES!

Once Upon a Pony

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Old Bill and me

Once upon a time, a long time ago, my dad got us kids (well, me) (my brother had a quarter horse) a pony.  If you know anything at all about the equine world, you know that ponies are mean little you-know-whats and stubborn.  My dad had a sense of humor, and I can only imagine he bought this pony so he could laugh his buhiney off at the things it did to me.  That’s him sitting on the porch with my little sister on his lap, getting ready for a big guffaw no doubt.

I was six or seven in this picture.  Back then kids had more freedom to move about and play, and were allowed to do all sorts of dangerous (in the eyes of today’s world) activities.  We didn’t have Wii or other games like that, and television wasn’t nearly as interesting as going exploring or playing with friends.   Today, kids think it’s dangerous to walk or ride their bike down the street, even in our little rural town (one of the effects of instant news).  And truthfully, I would have a cow if my grandgirls did half what I did when I was growing up.

My dad had a small farm about a mile or a little more out of town.  Down the dirt road to the north from our house, past the horse show arena, on out toward pee curve, turn to the west and go up a sloping, steep hill (especially on a bicycle in the hot summer), then breeze on down the other side to the farm.  We had a great time on that place.  That’s where Mom had her garden, where Dad had animals of all sorts through the years, and where the barn with the horses was.

Some days I would drive out to the farm with Dad (back then we could sit in the truck bed) and ride Old Bill.  This particular day I was going to ride him back into town to the house, following Dad’s truck.  We did just fine till we got to the top of that steep hill.  It was summer, and I guess Old Bill just didn’t like to be pushed that hard.  We were in the part of the road that had shade trees on either side, and Dad’s truck was waaaaaay down the road turning pee curve to head on to the house.  He was gone.  And I have to admit, I felt just a bit more than a smidgen of panic.

I don’t know if Old Bill sensed I was scared to be there all by myself or if he had it planned the minute he saw Dad’s truck make the curve, but he started to lie down in the road… with me on him.  I pulled on the reins and kicked the fat, stubborn thing with all my little years had in me to no avail.  It was either jump or get squashed.  So I jumped off just as he did the full lie-down.

Oh, I got Old Bill to the house.  I led him the rest of the way home.  Every time I tried to get back on him, he would lie down in the road.  As soon as I quit, he got up and would start plodding along.  I know I couldn’t have felt any heavier than a mosquito on his back.  By the time we got home, I was spitting mad… at Old Bill, at Dad, and at me for my inability to control that stubborn pony.

Now, though, I give myself a little credit.   I suppose at the age of 7 or 8 that I had some control… or he would have bucked me off and ran away.

But that’s another Old Bill tale.

♪♪♪ Movin’ On Up… To The Bright Side ♪♪♪

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There used to be a sitcom on television called The Jeffersons. 

The Jeffersons

 Their theme song went “movin’ on up, to the East side” because they were coming up in the world to a better financial position.  I love to take little diddies and put a word or two of my own in there to make it mine.  This is one of them.

My movin’ up has nothing to do with being well off monetarily and everything to do with being well off mentally.  It’s been a struggle to move up now for about half my life:  a long, long time.  First was a bad marriage and divorce to overcome while coping with a child not yet diagnosed with schizophrenia, being bewildered at every turn with every psychiatrist from the one who specialized in children to the one that worked for the local health department, and all the others in between; the death of another child’s best friend and the subsequent battle with drug addiction; depression and anxiety problems; the death of my second husband and years of mourning what could have been, what could have been done differently.  Pain… and more pain. 

The only reason I mention those things at all is to tell you about my good, dear friends without whom I could not and cannot live.  They are the reason I am movin’ on up.  They are the rocks that anchor my distraught psyche, the rocks upon which God has set me, the pavilion wherein He has hidden me.  I so totally love them all. 

praying friend

They have prayed my son alive because I am as certain as I sit here that he would have died without their shawl of prayer wrapped around him. 

hugging

 They have wrapped us in their arms as well with hugs that left us giddy with delight and comfort. (You  know who you are, Howard.)  They have come to me in the night, flashlight in hand, when I feared I had run over my little cat, Bo, to look for him, all three kids:  Joseph, Tyler, Emily, and Mom Cheryl.

Dolores (a/k/a Grandma to Kate) gets out in the cold to fetch me a gallon of milk so I don’t have to get the grandgirls out; brings me blog-warming gifts (picture coming soon); and teaches me to be kind and loving and accepting of all people.  Terah, who loves me with agape love that fills my soul with lightness, who makes a way to bring me back from the precipice of darkness, who finds my Eagle’s Nest that I might hide under the shadow of His wing (Psalm 17:8).  Jeri Lyn, who takes my burdens into herself to ease my morbid obsessions, that I might not worry about the evil that could befall my little ones.  Joy, who stood vigil at my husband’s side as he lay dying.  Alberta, who always has my back, always worries about me, always seeing about me.  These are only a few; God gave me many.

The study group who saw me through that first year of extreme sadness; the group God brought together just for me.  Ah, how He loves me.  This group who are now my sisters, these women whom I will forever have a bond.  How I love them. 

my sisters

Yes, I am movin’ on up, to the bright side.  And I say Thank You, Lord.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked came against me to eat up my flesh, my enemies and foes, they stumbled and fell.  Though an army may encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; Though war may rise against me, in this I will be confident.  One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life; to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple.  For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion; in the secret place of His tabernacle He shall hide me; He shall set me high upon a rock.  And now my head shall be lifted up above my enemies all around me; therefore I will offer sacrifices of joy in His tabernacle; I will sing, yes, I will sing praises to the Lord …  Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!”  Psalm 27

The Big Win! For the Packers Too.

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Super Bowl!

For the past decade I’ve tried to watch football… and can’t.  Too many memories of watching it with someone I loved who loved football.  This year is different.  I actually made it through the Super Bowl without a single episode of anxiety and with a light heart.  I had a gut feeling the Packers would win (my Colts team having graciously bowed out of the Big Ring game) (okay, maybe not so graciously).

Black Eyed Peas

And as if helping me celebrate my victory, my turning point, the half-time entertainment, although still not great, (I at least try to manage the half-time wardrobe malfunctions) beat some I’ve seen in the past.  I loved the lighted people and want one of those light suits for Halloween!

places to go/people to see

A handful of popcorn in one hand and an ice cold Coca-Cola in the other were my party companions.  Oh, yeah, and the Kindle book for my book club reading in case things got rough, and I needed a diversion.  There were places to go and people to be around, but my home was a resting place with the solitude my cushion.

And I watched the whole game.

Thin-And-Fine Is Fine With Me

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My niece, Jill, is hysterically witty and  fun and unique.  She just attracts smileys, fun things out of nowhere.  Sometimes I  sit and reminisce about her and her stories and laugh out loud (LOL) all by myself.

Snow White

She has this little voice, this lilting, melodic, soprano sound —  or maybe it’s just high and squeaky — although after two children and the endless amount of speaking it takes to get them to put their coats away (not counting toys, clothes, food, etc.), the tiny little voice may have deepened.   But the little girl with her Mommy in the department store where Jill worked at the time was enthralled with her… and her voice.  She stood and stared for a long time, listening as Jill talked to the customers, and finally asked, “Are you Snow White?”

hoe

Then there was the co-worker that kept walking by Jill’s desk calling her a “hoe.”  So one day, when Jill had had enough, the girl came by, stood at Jill’s desk, and said, “Hoe.”  Jill looked her in the eye as she finally retorted, “Shovel.”

She also got the Meme hair:  thin and fine.  My mother always complained about her hair and always described it as thin and fine.  When Mom would call the house, my husband would say, “Thin-and-fine’s on the phone.”  So now, with Meme gone, Jill is Thin-And-Fine.

losing it

Or at least she was until the chemo took it, left her head barren and void of any hair at all.  But it couldn’t get her spirit.  Nor could the radiation she had to endure for weeks.  The pain that comes with all the “cure” couldn’t flip her unflappable determination to be well and “kick cancer’s ass” as the flair buttons proclaim.

Last time I talked to her on the phone, she still sounded like Snow White to me, and her facebook page is filled with one-worder witticisms.  Her hair is beginning to grow back, and I can’t wait to see the outcome of the outgrowth!

breast cancer ribbon

http://ww5.komen.org/ (if it doesn’t link, just copy and paste)

flair button