Happily Homeless

The Great Toilet Paper Wars of Destin Florida-

2012-01-27T20:39:00.000-05:00

So, here we are, in God's Waiting Room. Well, its at least where the wealthy people are waiting. There may very well be other areas of Florida where the less well to do wait. We can consider ourselves fairly safe then-we are definitely not in their money league in this area! Condos by the hundreds, reaching to the skies. Restaurants of every description, costing varying amounts. Tourist area. Okay for a vacation, if you have the dough. Maybe not so much if you're like us-living on the road, and not being among the monied people...

We're staying at an Army MWR recreation area (that's morale, welfare and recreation for you civilians out there). Its right on Choctawhatchee Bay, which is, yes, beautiful. Its a contained area here, with an RV park, some cottages, and some hotel like facilities, which is our particular area. Its a 2 minute walk to the pier, which is nice, and we stroll out there to watch some of the amazing sunsets.
You ask-what do you mean "toilet paper wars"? and well you might. Want me to tell you? It has gotten stressful enough that my handsome husband and I have had way too many conversations about it, and about the housekeeping. Or the lack of both. Are you kidding me, you ask. NO! I'm not kidding you! Let me fill you in on my petty worry that has become a war. Things at this MWR facility slow down greatly, of course, during the off season. Upon our arrival, we were handed a paper that explained the housekeeping schedule. Tuesdays and Thursdays-bathroom thoroughly cleaned. Entire room cleaned on Saturday. Excellent! Not that I'm averse to maintaining a room by myself (yes, I am actually, at this point in my life), but we're staying at a place where its included in the cost. And amenities are included. So here's the thing. For the first week or so, the dude was on schedule and all was good. But a weird thing...he'd only leave one roll of tp on the roll. Which worked basically, but, you know, sometimes things are going on that makes you go through one more quickly than you might otherwise. And I won't bore or horrify any of the guys reading this by getting too graphic with details but let me just say, my ablation and emergency D& C didn't work well, and apparently my body is still attempting to find its' balance *there's a hysterectomy in my future*. Maybe it will be more palatable to all of you who like those crime scene shows if I tell you that what happens to me makes the shower scene in the Hitchcock movie look like a walk in the park? You get my point here. And one roll of toilet paper. And after the first couple weeks, suddenly the housekeeping dude changes the housekeeping schedule, or doesn't go by one at all. We never know when he's going to show, or leave any amenities (read: toilet paper). Early on, ignorant me requested an extra roll from him when I saw him outside our building. He begrudgingly gave me one, then informed me that, from here on out, I'd have to take it up with management, if I needed more than one roll for the week.
Yes, people, this is stressful! Handsome husband and I go exercise walking in the mornings. We get back and need showers. Housekeeping has never gone in while we're walking. Somehow he seems to show up when Handsome is just out of the shower, and, if asked to return in 20 minutes, allowing time to dress (how rude of us!), he just doesn't show back up. Or he doesn't come at all that day. At one point we decided to take back our power and we put up the "do not disturb" sign on Monday, when he wasn't supposed to be there anyway, but just to get back on track. We didn't see him for the rest of the week, including no toilet paper. Today, he was in our building area in the morning, while we were getting ready, left, and never came back while we were gone (for the entire afternoon). And when we got back, and I should type this next part in caps because, yes, I want to yell this aloud-there was NO toilet paper on the roll at all, even though it was empty because we ran out two days ago!
Have I spent enough time on this subject yet? Yes I have! Except that now I need to tell you that this is what happens when our government contracts out. And can you believe that the government could, and does, do a better job of managing than contractors? Because, at least in this, they do. We've stayed at military bases and facilities around the country and NEVER run into this. The management of this place is contracted out to the lowest bidder, and, guess where they're saving money? Yes, apparently in rationing toilet paper! Its become, in my mind, a contraband material! Like in the current war zones, it is a very valuable commodity, and, like they traded cigarettes in WW2, I could probably trade toilet paper with other residents here for, I don't know, drugs or something. That's how insane this has become! I need rescue remedy big time. Suffice to say, people, we are NOT returning here next year, and I encourage all of you to not visit here. Or if you do, bring your own toilet paper. You'll be sorry if you don't. And be prepared for shoddy housekeeping services, whether they are promised or not as part of your cost. It ain't happening. Consider yourself warned. But don't worry. I'll soldier through until we finally leave on the 11. But please do be thinking of me, and remember, I took this bullet for you...

Who knew a toilet paper war would ever happen in my life?

Those dredded moments...

2012-01-13T13:42:00.002-05:00

For months, I've been obsessing about dreds! Getting them, that is. I've educated myself about the how to's with youtube. My most loving husband has willingly watched those vids too; after all, he would be the dred enforcer when it finally happened...
We had one false start a week or so ago. It just didn't seem to be working, so we agreed that the best thing to do would be to view more vids on putting in dreds, and we would revisit the issue.
Yesterday was D-day. We'd watched, we'd seen, we were sure we knew how to do the dredded dreds! (It really is amazing how overwhelming the whole subject has been to me. You don't just not wash your hair and let it knot-there's a whole process to it-who knew?!)

We had the metal comb, we had the wax, we had the clear color mini bands, we had the music, the snacks (well, I did at least). We were pumped!!! This is how I envisioned me looking after we were done, or at least, 3-6 months from now when the dreds had time to really lock and, well......load!

Eight hours later, with more thanks to my husband (called Chaz by me as his alter ego when he helps me with my hair at various times), we had what we could consider, and really thought were....dreds! And I think they were-we just didn't have the confidence to go with the end result. Or at least they had the possibility of being dreds in that 3-6 month timeframe. His fingers hurt, from the constant twisting and tearing and maneuvering of the metal comb. My head hurt, from all the pulling and twisting and tearing and pressure. But that was all part of it, so, you know, I was being brave...

The top 3rd of my head still needed doing (dredding), but it was getting late already, so I determined to finish it up in the AM. Remember Buckwheat from the "Little Rascals?" Yeah, that was more of what I looked like at the moment...

But even Buckwheat had good dreds, as I found out. So it was feasible that I could go from what my current head looked like to, well....rocking this!

That was my dream-these are really nice dreds! So, with that thought, I lay down in bed. And it felt, well....lumpy. Nobody ever mentioned that to me in all those videso I watched-how do you sleep on these things? Brave me, I managed for a few minutes, but that little, niggling thought was squeaking from the back of my head..."hey you like your sleep! How are you going to do this for a long, long time?" So I sat up and started removing a few of the bands at the bottom of the dreds, to make it a little more comfortable...and then a few more, and a few more. Pulled at the ends, trying to untangle. Talked with Chuck, who was ready to sleep after a long day of dred doing, the thought growing- after all that effort, how could I undo? It just wouldn't be right!

Long story short: I got to bed at 2:30, after a long few hours with some conditioner, the sharp point of the metal comb, and a lot of patience, some scissors and sore fingers. And this is what I look like now: I think it looks kind of French, don't you agree? Chaz did a great job on it-

2011-12-31T17:21:00.002-05:00

(My new year, that is) Happy New Year to all!!

Oh, those Florida moments!

2011-12-28T15:01:00.001-05:00

For us, this year, Christmas was spent in God's Waiting Room, which we all know is spelled F-l-o-r-i-d-a. We don't mind that we're in God's Waiting Room, as its much warmer than the northern climes where we could be waiting for fire and damnation or whatever our reward might be. Our current, and 'til early February, home, is at the Army Recreation site in Destin. Its a nice little place; a quick walk around will take maybe 15 minutes. It sits right on the Choctawhatchee Bay and its lovely to stroll out to the pier and watch the fish springing out of the water, and the pelicans coming in to catch their dinner. Our room is spacious in every way, the bed is soooo comfortable (and I'm becoming something of an expert on comfortable beds!), and the shower has a great spray (these are 2 of the most important things to me). A housekeeper comes in every other day to clean the bathroom, and I definitely can't complain about that! The conference center is a very short walk away, where we can get wifi. That's no big deal, or at least it seemed not that big a deal initially....
So, what's going to keep us from returning here next year? After the day is done, and we've had some supper (which I can make on our handy-dandy 2 burner stovetop), we settle in to....endlessly switching channels on the TV! Yes, folks, we all know that, as many channels as there are on modern TV, there is still nothing on! Oh, there's your standard, endless, mind-killing, mind-numbing, reality shows-do I really need to know what the Kardashian's are doing at this moment? And there's more reality shows on the history channels-no more actual, you know, history-just reality shows. And 7 days a week, there are numerous religious shows going on; slick haired evangelists (who are, quite possibly, used car salesmen in their off time) ranting and raving about being saved (while a phone # for sending donations to help you be saved is streaming across the bottom), or another channel where you can tune in to watch a guy wearing a cummerbund, a bad comb over, and little talent, try to "rock" a Jesus tune (while a phone # for sending donations to help you be saved is streaming across the bottom). These shows are available, well, all the time. After an hour or so of changing channels, (and Chuck tends to get motion sickness as a result of me channel flicking so quickly), we land on a "Planet Earth" segment, narrated by Sigourney Weaver. Instantly I am taken back to my freshman year in HS, or any other year, sitting at my desk, after lunch and a full stomach, being force fed a nature show. S....l....o....w..... All I want to do is take a quick nap. Must stay awake....

We're quickly zooming through the movies from our local Redbox-never have I seen so many movies in such a short time! Yes, possibly re-thinking our stay here next year....

2011-12-11T03:17:00.000-05:00

I have this covered!

Crossing the Finish Line of Cancer moments...

2011-11-17T20:03:00.000-05:00

So yesterday marked Chuck's final surgery. Earlier in the week, he had his appointment with Dr Lackman, who gave him the news we were anticipating-that he is, once again, cancer free. And yesterday, Dr Kovach did the final debulking. That sounds like such a heavy word-and my translation of it, into civilian terms, is this: Dr Kovach hinged open one side of Chuck's wrist, took a rubber mallet,

tamped everything back in, closed the wrist, and used a sander to get it down to more normal size. That is totally a non-medical explanation, but you got an image of it, didn't you? Where Wilson resided is no more! Yay and celebratory fireworks etc! Due to a national shortage (who knew?) of a particular anesthesia, they had to use a new one, and were, additionally, unable to do an arm block, so used general. Which is all well and good, but it gave Chuck the one really negative experience of all of this, in that he had negative after effects of incredible loopiness (my official term), and nausea (anytime I say that word, I hear Jerry Lewis saying it in one of his early movies with Dean Martin (nah-zee-uh)...)
Because we're staying in lodging at MAFB, it took us a good while (good meaning long distance, not that we enjoyed it!) to get back, in rush hour Philly traffic. Two and a half hours specifically, leaving me more convinced than ever to NOT live on a coast, East or West, again. And all was going pretty well through the evening, until I started getting some major pains resulting from my last week's D&C, which was, of itself, a result of an ablation that hasn't quite worked out the way I hoped. Major pain that was like labor all over again (if I'd known what labor pain was like prior to having kids, I swear I wouldn't have had kids, bless their hearts and I'm glad and all that NOW, but, yeah, wouldn't do it again without equally major drugs, as in tune me out and wake me when they're 18). In any case, those pains and a sudden gushing of, pardon me for getting graphic here but its' my blog and I'm trying to be honest here, blood, sent me posthaste to the bathroom, which quickly assumed the appearance of a murder scene and there should have been some of that crime scene tape surrounding me. Yikes and all that! And then the pains started, and, let me just say, holy Christopher, they continued on and on and...on and on. Picture this: me writhing on the bed in pain, moaning, and my handsome husband, still looped out of his mind from anesthesia, opening cabinets and drawers throughout the room, desperately searching for the lovely pain meds the ER dr gave me at an earlier visit (yeah, that happened too). And, once said pills were located,

and ingested, only to take a frickin' lifetime to do their job, him insisting that he could drive me to the ER, which is where I happily would have situated myself and accepted every modern pain medication known to man. Bless his heart, one of the beauties of his surgery medication was that he thought he was thinking sense, talking sense, and making sense, but I, even while having my insides shredded, could recognize that, yeah, he was out-of-it in a way that left him inoperable and incapable, in a big way, of operating a can opener, never mind a car. He loves me dearly, that man, and would move heaven and earth to get me to where the pain was no longer present, and I love him dearly in return, but I was in no way getting in a car with him, and I couldn't move myself out of a fetal position in any case, to walk to the car. Yeah, we were a pair last night...
Things are better today-Chuck is present, in mind and body. I'm on pain meds, and I like it that way, until I see the dr tomorrow. This is absurd and ridiculous, all the dr appointments we're scheduling. Is this our future as we get older? And what's next-pastel clothing, velcro sneakers and black wrap around sunglasses? Golf carts to get us around our senior citizen complex in god's waiting room, aka Florida? (because we are headed to Florida at the end of the month). No, no, no-repeat many times over! We're getting back on our feet, and our adventures will continue-there is a country out there to yet see-
The good news-cancer is gone, Chuck has his arm "back" again, life is good. And on entirely another note: young women out there-don't get pregnant! Or, if you must, go into it knowing that drugs can be your friend when you have babies. Yes, natural is good, I've done that myself, in home births no less, but, drugs really can be our friends, just remember that! (With apologies to my daughter, who is a doula, for aforesaid statement...)

goodbye to these clear Western skies moment..

2011-10-05T00:51:00.002-04:00

Since last July, when we pointed our car West, following Chuck's post-op follow up, we have had one adventure after another. Our travels took us to Missouri and Pony Express country, Springfield IL, and Abe Lincoln's tomb,

Kansas-where the sky opened up for us and I breathed fully for the first time in months,

Colorado-where we visited with my dad, climbed the Great Sand Dunes outside Alamosa and spread my brother's cremains, Grand Junction -where we surrendered to the beauty of the day at Independence Pass and the Continental Divide,

Utah-where we marveled at the Bonneyville Salt Flats,

Nevada- where we stood at the summit of a hang glider launch pad with the wind at our backs,

Oregon-oh my goodness, the memories there! North Bend and a small house party with family, house-sitting for our daughter and son-in-law, biking through the vineyards, gourmet cupcakes, dancing to a live Rock n'Roll band with the kids and their friends til the wee hours of the morning, a Crater Lake hike,

hoop-jams in the park, hikes to Table Rock, picnicking at Lake of the Siskiyous, belly dancers and curtain climbers on First Friday in Ashland-we filled that month and a half up with all we could! Goodbyes and the journey south along the California coastal routes, Redwoods, Big Sur, meeting cousins for the first time, seeing old friends from NJ now living south of San Fran, stays at lovely, sometimes out-of-the-way military bases (we really scored on that point!) lighthouses on the shore on perfectly blue skied days,

Danish Days in Solvang, treacherous drives along switch-

backed mountain roads, with hairpin turns and curves, Ronald Reagan's stately and heart-wrenching library and tomb, cemeteries where rested folks whose names I've always known (Roy Rogers and Dale Evans), cemeteries where were buried people known only locally, but who came from across the world long ago to assist the Union Army with their....yes, camel experiment! Then to Arizona and our oldest son Alec-such a brief time there, but long enough to spend a day watching water spouts and taking fun pictures, welcoming our daughter and son-in-law as they arrived to start a new life, anniversary dinners at THE best pizza joint EVER (Two Hippies Pizza-go there immediately!), with THE friendliest owners EVER!

Warm summer evenings chilling out by the pool, experiencing my first "haboob", doing nothing special but having treasured times with people we love mightily! More goodbyes as we reluctantly pointed our car Eastwards, towards Las Cruces, New Mexico, Dyess AFB near Abilene, Texas (we are returning there-there's some major Wild West history going on!), Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, Texas, and, as of this moment, Muskogee OKlahoma, making this our final state to visit in the lower 48. Tomorrow, we'll be in Missouri again, then Illinois, and Indiana.
We have much to look forward to in the next couple months: our kids in New England, Thanksgiving with people who are extended family to us, my angel sisters in NJ, two months along the Florida Gulf, Key West (avoiding chill weather in the Northeast!). We're going to love every minute of it-and all the while, I am going to be missing these Western skies. I love the vastness of the West, the open skies that reflect the spacious terrain, sailing along in our Escape-the soul-lifting blue out the car windows, the puffy clouds as I gaze out of our open sunroof, the road stretching out in front of our windshield, looping, arching, winding, able to see for miles ahead. Leaving Texas was emotional-each time we're there, I fall in love with it more (basing that feeling on little more than the feeling it gives me-rolling hills, low brush, open.) I love the West, we love the West, its so hard to leave-its that "itbreaksmyhearttoleave" feeling. That "Ican'twaittocomeback" feeling. My heart lifts out here, the spaciousness envelops me and frees me; I am exhilarated. Just the two of us, our car, the open road, the vast blue heaven overhead, nothing but open around us, enveloped in nature, surrounded by beauty, just us-in love, driving, living our dream. This road awaits our return!

those moments that make you go...huh...

2011-08-30T23:53:00.000-04:00

Receiving top ranking on our list of "you really need to go here" is Crater Lake. Each time we've been there, we've seen something new, and who can tire of gazing at that not to be believed topaz color of the lake? Our first trip there a few years back, we drove around the Rim, and its worth your time to do it that way. Our second time, which was this visit, we hiked the Garfield Peak trail, that took us to the top of the Rim-a whole other perspective. Along the way we met our new friend, Leana, a young woman from Croatia, who answered all my questions about "couchsurfing" (which will be yet another post!) And last week, we, along with our daughter Rachael-Grace and her husband Sean, hiked down to the bottom, along the only trail that leads right to the lake. What a perfect day of weather, exercise, extravagant views, and a chance to watch Sean jump 18 ft from a rock to the lake below! I was quite a bit less adventurous, and settled for dipping my toes in-but that ranked as one of those "I never thought I'd do this" moments. A good hike, some lunch, pleasingly tired, and a simple statement from Chuck that he'd like to take a different route home. A check of the map, and yes, the roads were there, but, well, they were small enough roads that they were nameless. No worries, though! I had confidence in Chuck finding our way through the mountains-his nickname in the Air Force was, after all, "the Pathfinder". How could we go wrong? And, really, we didn't go wrong at all, other than a brief right when we needed to go left, and over that little bridge. Which we corrected pretty quickly. So what you need to know about these roads we were traveling upon is that they were logging roads, which means that they were unpaved (read: gravel), narrow (maybe, at the most, in some spots, 1 1/2 car widths), unmarked, unlit, and, as we found out, not busy. As in, we didn't see another car for 3 hours. But that's good, right? No gaper delays, no traffic jams, no bad drivers...
On our map was marked a town called "Tiller"-it was THE only town for some distance, and we agreed that we would stop there and get a bite to eat. It was a good plan, though I guess we didn't take into account that we were working with an East Coast state of mind, which means not taking time into account. (more on that later). We drove, and we drove, and we drove...goodness, the scenery was breathtaking, as had been promised to us, and we duly admired it. Tall Douglas firs-reaching to the skies, lots of thick undergrowth, and, hidden in there, this sign...
No big deal. We were seeing a part of Oregon not previously seen, and isn't that what "Happily Homeless" is all about? (yes). It was getting late, though, and we were, to be honest, getting tired, and our butts were getting numb from sitting, but there wasn't anywhere to stop-nothing but trees and narrow roads, no shoulders, no rest areas, needless to say! But look! There's a sign for "Tiller"! Almost somewhere, so that's good. We'll get out and stretch, find some food-life is good! In the distance, as we approached nearer to the town limits, we spied a man walking alongside the road; the first human we'd seen for some hours. Civilization! As we approached him in our dusty, and dirt encrusted, car, Rachael saw that this man rambling alongside the road was carrying something in his hand, and jokingly said "look, he's carrying an axe!" Which, given all the abounding trees, didn't seem that odd. Well, there is the fact that he was shirtless. Not that strange-it was summer after all. And we got closer, and there seemed to be something white over the lower half of his face. He was friendly, giving a wave of his hand as as we passed by. BUT, as we passed him by, we saw that the white covering on his face was kleenex stuck up his nose, which was seemingly to catch the dripping blood, because it was stained red-and the "axe" he was carrying wasn't an axe at all, but a....yes, that's a rifle, folks! Is that a scope on the rifle? Could someone please tell me exactly how far we are from town? Because I'm suddenly not terribly comfortable out here, in the middle of goodgodforsaking nowhere, keeping company with a rifle toting, shirtless, bleeding from the nose, dude-sorry and all that and he might be the nicest person to ever be born, but I didn't want to end up as a movie of the week! Ahh, look! There's a turn-let's take the right and go into town, maybe calm ourselves after that. Which we did, for all of the (seriously) 2 minutes it took to drive into town, see the church, the cafe (closed, and, as Sean said, well, it is after 7pm), a couple of ramshacklin'...shacks...turn around, retrace our steps, and drive out of town. Tiller may have been the nicest town we'd ever want to visit, and maybe another day we'll return and explore and find out who our highway friend was, but, folks, on this day, we were out of there! Adding to the general sense of weirdness was this: as we winded our way towards home, I looked at my much loved husband and said "you know who that guy alongside the road reminded me of?" and, without hesitating, Chuck said "your ex." So it wasn't just me imagining strange, strange, things! That is exactly what I was going to tell him! Not the gun part, but his build and his gait, maybe the bloody nose...None of it meant anything, I realize-but what an ending to a strange experience in the mountains of Oregon...
Long story short: we did indeed find our way back to civilization, found a lovely Mexican restaurant where, in the twilight, we dined while enjoying a river view and an uplifting breeze. And I have no moral of this story for you-just a further understanding that, as we have discovered, the real adventures of the road, large and small, happen when we get off the beaten track. In the midst of them, there maybe some unsettling moments, some downright "huh" moments such as this was, but its all part of the packaging...isn't it?

At home in Medford OR moments..

2011-08-30T22:56:00.001-04:00

My all-time favorite guy and I have had the best time of our lives here in Oregon, visiting with our daughter Rachael-Grace and her husband Sean. Its so much what we needed, after this last year! Our stay started out in North Bend, right on the coast, where we had a chance to host a house party, with Chuck's niece and her husband, and our daughter. Yes, the weather was cloudy, and a little chilly, but who cares? We spent a day wandering through the town and along the beach at Bandon-by-the Sea, thoroughly enjoying ourselves! After a quick overnight stay in Klamath Falls, and a drive through the mountains, we arrived in Medford and a 10 day stay at Rachael's while she and Sean vacationed in CA. It was a time of complete and total leisure for us, with our only aspiration for the day being to exercise, and I'm proud to say that most days we did exactly that-biking through the wine vineyards (who knew OR had vineyards?), or walking through the town. Rae and Sean rent an oh-so-cute home on the outskirts of town, so we played house until their return and then checked into our old haunt of last year-Grape St Gardens. (click on homepage "photos" to take a look!) Its a cute little place, entirely suited to our needs, and our landlady, Mary, in addition to being so sweet, is creative in every way, and our suite, along with the couple others on the property, are the result of her imagination and hard work. I love it when people are able to think outside the box, decorating-wise, and Grape St is a vision of looking at something, maybe a wrought iron stair railing, and thinking "how else could that be used?" and then hanging it on the wall, with a matching one, to anchor a painting.
From here we've ventured out to hike at Tabletop buttes, both of them, Crater Lake, Jacksonville (and shopping at a dreamy shop with nothing but glittery things!), and everywhere else we thought about, all of which will be fodder for another post. This has given us a much needed rejuvenation-after the hellish months in NJ, with results that leave us filled with gratitude for our life, and for each other, and we're excited to see the open road ahead of us again when our time here in Oregon comes to a close. So many adventures in Oregon-which will be another post. A little bit weird, little bit unsettling, our winding way through the mountains as we drove back from Crater Lake last week...one of those times that just makes you go "huh" when its all over...stay tuned!

Back in the saddle moments..

2011-07-14T11:33:00.001-04:00

   Yippee-ki-yay and all that-we're back in the saddle again, which is to say Happily Homeless is on the road again!! Can you tell I'm excited? Its been a couple weeks now-we hightailed it out of NJ as expected-dr appt in Philly, and awaaaay we, well, a week or so has passed, so, away we went! Being on the PA turnpike doesn't truly qualify as traveling for me-the road has ruts in it from the numerous times we've trekked our way out to Indiana. But what did give me the possibility of a thrill was that we were going to continue west as soon as we did our time there! We spent the first night on the road in Pittsburgh, at an Air Reserve Base-how beyond lovely to have a comfy bed again (as opposed to a 50+ year old fold out sofa...) Our week in Indiana is a posting all by itself, which I assure you will be written forthwith, and then it was nothing but road as our Ford Escape made tracks to Springfield Illinois and Lincoln country. What an experience it was, visiting Abe Lincoln's tomb-my reaction took me unawares. His tomb lies at Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, which is a beautiful place in its' own right. The outside of the tomb-impressive. Walk inside-gorgeous marble walls, and be greeted by a smaller version of the statue that graces our capitol in DC. Start your walk through a circular corridor, marveling at sculptures depicting Lincoln at various stages of his life, and then, step into the quiet of the room and be confronted with a crypt bearing his name. I felt like I'd been sucker punched, and the tears were immediate. I'm not sure why. Yes, I've read about him in history, yes, I admire him, but, wow, being in the presence of his tomb, making him so very real...it was an awesome moment, as so many of my moments have been in the last two years. It made him seem so real all of a sudden. If you're ever in the area, go there.
   From Abe country, we really, really started heading west, as we traveled through Missouri and passed through Mark Twain country. We didn't stop, though I'd like to return at a future time. Always have loved Twain's humor! This is Pony Express country-where those brave (or nuts) young men of old spurred their ponies to deliver the mail throughout the West, and there are statues aplenty to remind you that, at an early point in our history, sleet and rain and snow were the least of their problems in delivering the mail! Can you imagine being on a horse, a galloping horse, for the hours they had to pull? (10 hours in the saddle, day and night, for $25.00/week). No unions then for protection and workers' rights! Weather, hostiles, unmapped territories-we had some tough people back then!
   We've stayed off the beaten track as often as we could, as usual-that's what allows us to really see this country. As we were moseying along, we opened up the sunroof and overhead was the sight I've been dreaming of since last January when the fucking cancer made itself known-nothing but blue, blue, puffy clouded, wide-open skies of the West! Oh, the joy, joy, joy!!!

Over the high plains of Kansas we meandered, seeing nothing but the amber waves of grain we sing about, standing in appreciation but not a lot of awe at the highest point in Kansas (4,039 feet). The owners approach the entire idea with a great sense of humor-fun to visit! And, when you're making hotel reservations on the internet, you never really can tell how honest they're being with their pictures, so let's just leave it at that as far as our stay at the Days Inn in Goodland, Kansas. Bad review on their site upcoming...

And then onward wagons! to Colorado-past the stinking to high heavens (as my mom would say) stockyards of the eastern part of that state, to the beauty of Rocky Nat'l Park and Estes Park near Ft Collins and a visit with my dad (who has a really good, if cheesy, sense of humor), and a drive south that brought us to Pueblo, CO (no need to stay here, though I did see a magazine that says 4 medal of honor awardees are from here). Today, we're pointing our car in the direction of Alamosa, and the Great Sand Dunes tomorrow. We were there last year, and it ranks as one of our favorite places. It is also the place that brings my brother Kysa to mind, and I'll be scattering the "remains of his cremains" while there. He's been a very quiet passenger in the side compartment of the door, but I think he's ready, and I am too...
Chuck continues to heal. He has been using frankincense oil on the surgical site on his upper thigh, and it has helped tremendously-hooray for natural remedies! And I haven't had to employ any Rescue Remedy since NJ-no more anxiety attacks, blah, blah, blah-now that Cancer Boy is cancer-free! And he's just back to being plain ol' D-and I love that!! So, all you peeps out there in America, keep your eyes peeled to the road-Happily Homeless may just show up where you are!!

my Academy "thank you" moment..

2011-06-23T22:00:00.001-04:00

   I would like to thank the Academy.....what's that you say? Oh, this isn't the awards ceremony where I claim my prize for "Holy Shit, What a Year its' Been?" Oh, sorry. Well, I have something to say anyways. Here goes:
   Spell "Community". Could you use that in a sentence please? "Community" noun, plural -ties. A social group of any size whose members reside in a specific locality, share government, and often have a common cultural and historical heritage."
   I'm here to say thank you to our community. Mine and Chuck's and ours together. On Monday, we two, as "Happily Homeless" are heading out on the road again! The level of excitement that is beating within me is almost as intense as the anxiety that enveloped me when I would change Chuck's surgical sites, but very much more and obviously, a much better feeling! For the past week, I've been ruminating on what to say, and how to say, thank you.
   Here is my definition of community: "a group of people whom we knew were our friends, who, when we faced a major crisis, banded together, and enveloped us in their hearts, becoming more than friends in the process." How do I, how do we, say thank you?
   Thank you for giving us shelter. Staying at a hotel, with this ongoing physical and emotional crisis, would have been so much more difficult, if not impossible.
   Thank you for going with Chuck to his radiation treatments, freeing me up from having to be there everyday. I was able to get things done otherwise, and have things comfortable for him at the end of his day, knowing that he wasn't alone.
   Thank you for being with me during his surgeries, sitting with me so I wouldn't be alone with my anxiety, pacing a rut in the carpets of the waiting rooms.
   Thank you for the massive number of loving messages, during his surgeries, during his recuperations-via email, texts and phone calls. Technology can be used for evil or it can be used to bolster up someone who really needs a boost (that would be me....)
   Thank you for trekking either with me, or driving me, to the hospital post his major surgery. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and didn't have to be concerned with maneuvering my way through traffic in an unfamiliar city and, more than likely, getting lost along the way...(you knew that and so did Chuck!)
   Thank you for my circle of daughters who, upon hearing that I, not being a cook in the best of times, hadn't the opportunity or means to cook "recovering" meals, banded together to provide that food, and delivered it with hugs and smiles.
   Thank you for not only inviting us into your homes, once Chuck was mobile, but taking us into your hearts-you and your families-ensuring that not only did we eat a good, home-cooked, meal, but were enfolded in familial love. (and remember, if you opened a package at home, its' home-cooked!)
   Thank you for sharing your family occasions with us-birthdays, anniversaries-important days for you, and by association, for us. (we have become true party animals!)
   Thank you for picking up medical supplies for us, when we were too overwhelmed and tired to make one more trip. (anyone need some extra gauze?)
   Thank you for the prayers. Anyone who knows me knows that was one of my great struggles through this nightmare. When I didn't know how to pray, you prayed, in your way, to whatever HP you have in your life, and knowing that, gave me strength, and hope. Buddhist, Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Muslim-you all prayed.
   Thank you for the laughter, no matter what was going on. The encouragement at every step. The hugs that made one more day entirely possible. The gatherings, that fed our souls as surely, (and for fewer calories!) as any food we could have eaten.
   There is much I have to be thankful for (oh, dear, is that a dangling participle?) This is our community, and, thanks to the internet, our community through this time has not only been here in NJ, but around the country. There was never one post written either by me or Chuck, where we didn't get a deluge of comments in response-people from everywhere offering their hearts to us. Our hearts go right back out to you in appreciation.
   This has been a hellish 8 months. It started with my dear friend dying, and went, right away to Chuck's cancer. In the scheme of time, this is barely even a tick on the clock. Forever going through it, but already looking back. And though it was what I will call a SNAFU, I can't regret it, because, bigger than the fucking cancer, was, and is, the enormity of being wrapped in the arms of our community.
   Our Ford Escape is all packed for the road. Chuck has a post-op follow-up at 8 AM Monday morning in Philly. I may or may not go in with him to his appt. Possibly I'll stay in the car, with the motor running, pointed in a westerly direction, waiting for him to very quickly have the doc pronounce him fit as ever, and, once again possibly, wait for him to jump in the car as I two-wheel it to the hospital entrance and have him jump in through the window. (the skin grafts on his leg are doing pretty well-he should be able to manage that feat). And then, yes, folks, all these many months later-cancer free!- this blog will turn again into an actual travel blog (as opposed to a cancer travel blog), as he and I sing, along with Willie Nelson, "on the road again!"
   As Bob Hope would say, and I will say-to all of you who are our community, far and wide-thanks for the memories! No regrets, no worries!
   "Happily Homeless" cancer-free, and westward bound!!

an anticipated moment-

2011-06-10T15:10:00.002-04:00

   So, here I am-53 years old! I know I'm not the only one who feels that 53 isn't as old as it used to be. When I think back to my parents and grandparents, any of the adults I knew as a kid, they seemed old before their time in many ways. Part of it, I think, was their times-maybe they were more adult than we are today? It seems there are so many choices that we have now, as older people, and we no longer retire to our rocking chairs as early as people seemed to do. All a matter of perspective, I guess...
   Best birthday present in the world? A visit to our man of the hour-Dr Lackman, the cancer doc-in Philly, and results of the cancer screening for Chuck, and the official "you are cancer-free!" diagnosis, which is soooo much better than the diagnosis we received in January! I've never known anyone personally who has beaten cancer, and I hardly know what to do with that info-but we figured
it out and had supper with our wonderful friends Bruce and Mary Ann, that evening. They have been with us through it all, and it seemed so fitting!
   Yes, there's still "cancer stuff" to do-Chuck has another surgery on Tuesday to do part one of debulking his arm. The second, and final one, will take place in November when we return. More cancer screenings in the future, but in the meanwhile? TRAVEL!!
   At the end of this month, Chuck has his final post-op checkup in Philly. And the car is going to be packed and facing in a westerly direction, and when we get out of his appt (8:45 at the latest, we hope!), we are outta here!! A brief stop in Indiana so he can visit his mom, and then westward ho! again-yesyesyesyes!
   There is so much more I can write about, but at this moment, what I have in my sights is being on the road again, and the excitement of that. After all this time here in NJ (and we love our people here, never think we don't), we are craving the road, we want the road, we want to hear the sound of our tires fairly singing over the highway, the sunroof open to the broad blue sky overhead, and life and adventure ahead of us. Where should we go? Back up north to the Dakotas? Montana? Wyoming? The end point is Oregon again, but there's a lot of country to see before we get there. We're going to crack open the Atlas and the calendar and start dreaming our summer. This has been an interesting side trip, dealing with the fucking cancer, but we are both oh so ready to put it in our rear view mirror-

oh, the moments...

2011-05-31T19:08:00.001-04:00

   This has been a good month. We've traveled from Jersey to Vermont to New Hampshire, and, in the process, spent time with our kids and grandkids, some of my siblings, and lots of friends. There has been an unexpected memorial service for an uncle of mine, and a chance to catch up with long-lost cousins, a birthday party for our older son that we were so happy to be able to celebrate, a meet up with a friend from my past whom I hadn't seen in 10 years, and, most happily, a zoned out time from the recent cancer and surgeries. Its been good, and it was time much needed for both of us! The kids were able to see their dad, okay again, and reassured that all was well. We connected with our two grandkids and made more memories with them. I loved every second of every day!
   Now we're headed back to NJ, and Chuck's final surgery on June 14. It won't be a long surgery, thank god-under two hours. And it will return his lower arm to normal appearance-for me, that will be a sure sign that the cancer is gone. Chuck has been working diligently on his hand, which is still quite swollen and stiff, a result of the scarring from the massive radiation he underwent. Last night we learned something new about all of this-on the suggestion of our older son, whom we call Snads, Chuck applied lavender oil topically. Let me preface this by saying-yes, I'm a firm believer in homeopathy, natural remedies, etc. But this was, I consider, freakish. It was within mere moments of application of this lavender oil that Chuck was able to open/close his hand, without accompanying stiffness, for the first time since the surgery. And the swelling is down. I don't pretend to be able to understand any of this-all I know is what I see, and what I see is a difference, in appearance and movement. Freaky in every way!
   So, final surgery in a few weeks-busy until then getting everything done so that we can leave on June 27, after his final follow-up, and start heading West! Can I hear an "amen!" from everyone who is excited about that? Here's a huge one from me! AMEN!

"Shakiest Hands..."

2011-04-17T14:13:00.001-04:00

   I wish I could have a sense of humor all the time, but there are those small moments where, try as I might, instead of humor, I head for meltdown.
   Chuck is definitely recovering from all the surgeries, and I am supremely happy for that. Grateful, too. All those good, positive words. And, yes, it could have been soooo much worse. Every so often, I am reminded that we are still dealing with two major surgical sites, with all the accompanying concerns for keeping things sterile, and having to re-invent ways to deal with things as things change.
   I am fairly confident in what I'm doing with changing bandages these days-I've come a long way from when it all started. Still, I am a most reluctant nurse (in that I was called to this unwillingly (cancer), and am not medically inclined). Those moments happen, however, when unexpectedly, I end up hurting this man I love so much, physically, in a way that, I'm sure, sends pain shooting up through his arm, or, I don't know, amassing in that one particular area. Such happened this morning as I was winding the bandage around the site where Wilson formerly resided. There are still staples in that area, and they are the one sticking point that will give him pain. And, of course unintentionally, my hand touched (didn't even hit, but touched) that area. And sent him into spasms of pain, and me into immediate tears. God, I feel like such a wuss that I can't just apologize and brush it off, but my body seems to be responding with a mind of its' own, and his understood reaction to that pain, and my reaction to his reaction seemed to trigger major hot flashes in me, followed by an adrenalin rush through my system, and tears followed that I just couldn't seem to get a handle on. Think Don Knotts in "Shakiest Hands in the West" and make it me, unable to keep my hands still once I recover, continuing to wrap the wrist, and then gauzing his leg.... Maybe its' just a bad day-I don't know anymore. I just want this fucking cancer, and all its' subsequent surgeries, done with. I want our lives back (though I know they will never be the same). I want done with bleeding and oozing and wrapping bandages, and gauze and tape, and bulging skin and veins and being so afraid of hurting this man in some way, always unintentional, but causing pain, because how can it not, given what his body has had to go through, and what it feels like as a result? I want to see him walking with confidence, using his hand freely, not having to keep it raised because of the fucking swelling, not having to protect his forearm lest something strike it. I want him to be able to freely put both arms around me again, to dance, to be free in our lives again. I could write a whole page of "fuckingcancerfuckingcancerfuckingcancer" ad nauseum, and it will still never even start to express this feeling inside of me. Yes, I'm grateful, yes, we struck it lucky that at least it was this and not that and every other thing that it could have been that would have ended up with me being a widow. I am, I am, I am. And, at the same time, and very unattractively, I am pissed, and upset, and just want this done...
   We will now return to regularly scheduled programming...

a "hmm...." moment

2011-04-03T16:14:00.000-04:00

So, the worst of it is over, thankgodthankgodthankgod (even though I still really don't know how to pray). Chuck is recovering beautifully-he had his 2nd surgery (which is really his 3rd when you account for the very first one where they did the biopsy). He's walking a little over an hour daily, to keep everything limber and gain back mobility. Yes, there are still bloody bandages etc, and I still don't look at formerly Wilson's wrist area, but its getting better! His wrist/hand/fingers are very stiff, and more painful than any of the rest of his body, so we've been incorporating light massage into the picture to help that. But, in a little return to normalcy, he has moved from the couch to our bed! Yay! Sleeping together for the first time since-hell, when was the last time? (and we are only sleeping-get your mind out of the gutter! The man is my patient, for goodness sake!)
So, I'm going to be the next one at the doctor, doesn't it figure? I'm sure its' nothing, but its uncomfortable enough that I want to get it checked out, and, seriously, I'm smart enough to know when something is going on. In the last few days, I've become more and more aware that my heart is racing in my chest. Only way I can describe it is as an adrenalin surge-at least that's what it feels like. It just pounds and pounds and I have to take a deep breath. Stress related? Anxiety? Has Wilson left his temporary mark on me? Of course, immediately, I think, oh, lord, what a wuss, Alison! What kind of an Empress are you that your body is reacting this way to, well, life and the shit that it hands out regularly? Or, it might not be stress-maybe its' really something...who knows? So, little old me will get my butt to the dr this week to discover, hopefully, what is going on. Apparently, Chuck has been getting too much of the attention and now I need some..

Not a saint, not marching in...

2011-03-18T13:07:00.001-04:00

   So, I hope I haven't sounded like I'm whining as people have gathered around since my loving husband's surgery. If I have sounded like that, I most heartily apologize!! Definitely not my intent, and definitely not my personality. Howsomever-I'm not going to pretend that this is a hoop-dance by any means! Thank god the surgery is done with (at least this one), but, good golly, Miss Molly! let's just confront the results of modern medicine for one little minute. What are the words of awe to use in seeing what medicine can do to the body, in fixing it, and then observe how the human body can regenerate itself after being shredded, basically. (though there ain't no basically about it).
   Chuck's upper right thigh, where the docs did their thing (skin grafting, vein grafting) looks like a kind of food that I won't mention here, though I will tell you Mickey D's sells millions of those little patties that go on buns. He's got a patchwork quilt going on there. It's strips, it's crevices, it's stitches. And then there's his lower left arm, the recent habitat of that evil Wilson. Shredded, gaping, flapping-and that's not the gross part. Its bad stuff, folks. Yes, we can deal with it all, and yes, it will heal. But holy, holy, holy-its a mess! And guess who gets to play nurse? Yep-yours truly! The thing I am sooo careful not to do, and sooo careful to announce to anyone standing within 10 yards of me myself-here I am with Chuck depending on little ol' me to do him up right. Bandaging at least twice a day. Something called xeroform has to go directly over the grafting sites-it has anti-bacterial gunk on it to keep it clean. He takes care of doing that, as its just better all the way round for me not to end up sense-less on the floor, and him having to kneel down and swipe some smelling salts under my nose. That just wouldn't work for anyone. Then I start doing my artist's rendition of applying gauze in various places, covering it all, and taping it to hold it up, then wrapping more gauze around his leg to keep it all in place. This can take up to an hour.
   Now let's move to his arm. Its pretty much the same scenario, but a little easier because of the location. Repeat all of the above. Once again, ignore the smell-yes, it does smell, a result of the seepage and blood. Its normal seepage and blood, as the body heals, etc, but, well, it seeps and bleeds, and my stomach, and Chuck's, churns and bubbles. Add another half hour or so maybe.
   Chuck is healing well, he's moving around, but its not without effort and some pain, especially when he gets in and out of cars, up and down from chairs, and at all times, his arm must be in an "up" position, with no pressure on the down side, formerly Wilson's habitat.
   I'm not going to pretend that any of this is easy. I also will freely acknowledge that there are many who have it so much worse in so many ways. And I will never whine about this. But I will also say that this is not pretty, its not easy, and I'm not a saint by any means. Its labor intensive, its emotionally difficult, its horrifying, and we're just dealing with it and then we're moving on. We both desperately want this to be done with, we want Chuck to be moving around freely, and I never want to have to deal with this again. Its what we have, and we'll get through it. And then we'll be on the road again, and headed to the Southwest, hopefully, to spend some time there, rejuvenating ourselves and putting this behind us. With all the gratitude in the world for the end result of all of this, I am still so over this.

these magical moments of the ICU...

2011-03-10T02:11:00.001-05:00

Ahh, the hisses and whines of various machines attached to my most beloved husband as I sit bedside of him in the ICU! Today was a verrrryy long day, and I am seeing the true benefits of adrenalin. At some point I'm certain to crash-more than likely later in the day after getting things done. Right now I'm simply reveling in the fact that Wilson, that hated intruder, is gone, gone, gone, and the chances of his return are small, smaller, and none! Surgery day today-it took forever to get here, as we lived each day, but I fully realize in the scheme of time, it was nothing but a hiccup. My shoulders feel like they have finally relaxed, I have breathed, I know, for the first time since last November, and perhaps I will find my sense of fun again. Perhaps life will be normal again? Yes, yes, yes, it will! The cancer is gone, Dr Lackman is convinced as he can be that it will not return. and the further fantastic news is that the tumor wasn't as deeply entrenched as thought, so he didn't have to touch muscle, nerve, or tendon. He took blood vessels and skin, and it was a 10 hour surgery, only because Chuck's veins were so small that not only did he have to try 3 times to be able to do what he needed to do, but, instead of special glasses that he always wears to do this intricate work, he had to use a microscope. But, ultimately, mission accomplished! There will be an outpatient surgery 5 days after going home, and another outpatient surgery 3 months from now to thin out the skin of his wrist, which was taken from his thigh, but all manageable!
So, I sit here, listening on my IPOD to John Lennon singing "Yesterday" and think about yesterday, and the fear, and the anxiety, and my today, filled with Rescue Remedy, and busy-ness, and juggling texts, phone calls and emails from concerned family and friends, and finally being able to touch this man I love so much at midnight of this too long day, and I think of our tomorrows, which we have, and for which I am eternally grateful. And, looming over all else, besides this deep gratitude that sears into my very soul, is the acknowledgement of how love really is all there is in this world-it is the only thing that matters, and it comes from people who make up our daily lives, and who have been in our lives for many years and short years, those who are related by blood, and those who are related by heart strings, of which there are so, so, many. I still don't know how to pray, but when I say "thank you' it from the deepest part of my heart and it echoes loudly throughout this wide Universe, and, I hope, connects to the hearts of all those who have been our strength through this. My cup runneth over...

my brain seemingly on steroids-but who needs them?

2011-03-02T13:23:00.000-05:00

   My brain, last night (try to keep up here, it moved much faster than my typing will indicate):
   Having taken a mucinex to help my irritating cough, which will not go away, so, at the early hour of 3 AM, I have medicine head, but woke up with the thought that I'd missed my sister's birthday and I was off and running, mentally-how can I have forgotten to call her, I thought about it constantly the day before, but my brain is so fogged (hand touches hair) my hair is in such bad shape in spite of the fact that I just got it cut/styled maybe because I'm stressed and my hair is stressed too and is showing it I might as well get up and read (read a book about a Holocaust survivor) you know, maybe its better I don't read this book right now even though its so beautifully written pick up another book and start only its about a soldier who was wounded in WW2 better not read this one anyway I'm tired, go back to bed and the thoughts really take off (and the tears follow) i can't believe this whole cancer thing is going on Wilson looks horrible I have to stop judging all my reactions and just BE I need to figure out how to pray maybe I should just ask someone to pray for me to learn how to pray I need to let go this isn't life-threatening so what am I so shook up about just stop and admit it Alison this whole fucking thing is horrifying last night when you were massaging his hand wrist and arm-the whole thing is the consistency of rubber for christ's sake and there is an odor to it and it is blistering and ulcerated and it isn't wimpy to admit that to yourself and you know now how you are going to die its going to be a heart attack because in a couple one person gets cancer and the other dies of a heart attack and you've put on weight, especially around your waist and that's a danger sign they say so now you know how you're going to die you really need to lose weight but you don't even feel like eating anyways, and you're not eating junk and crap like you were when this all started, so that's good but you know the first night Chuck is in the hospital you're going to set yourself up with nothing but junk to get you through it and god he's going to be a whole week in the hospital and you'll be going in every day are you going to take the train or drive this is horrifying you really need to be more spiritual and find a place of calm and serenity for your own sake and isn't that what everyone does that you read about they find this whole spiritually based center in their heart and it helps them yet you feel like an absolute mess but you are the kind of person who just deals with things and you face your fears and get on with it you need to get that arnica to have plenty of it while Chuck's in hospital but there isn't going to be time today and you have to get to the library and you need to exercise as a stress buster and you need to be healthy so you can do what's needed for Chuck and you don't want to worry him with your falling apart but you're okay with falling apart and you want to be honest with him anyways and god I'm so tired I need to sleep and the tears come from way down deep and you're not feeling sorry for yourself you're just finally admitting to yourself that this whole fucking cancer thing sucks the big one and its overwhelming and thank god it isn't life-threatening because you'd be a basket case and you can't give in to this stuff and its going to be alright and...
   This all takes place within my brain within minutes...

DIS-com-bob-U-lated moments...yet....ok...

2011-02-26T14:24:00.000-05:00

   I have, at least for the moment, come in permanently off the ledge. No more having to be talked down, or off-I am calm. We've had good news re this Wilson character who has become a prime-time actor in our lives, but he is soon, hopefully, to meet his demise, to lose his spot, to be history. Once amputation was no longer an option, I could feel my blood pressure (which, in reality, has stayed as low as it ever has been, which is a very good low), go to normal. Wilson started reacting to the "Hiroshima" doses of radiation recommended by the docs, and, though there is still ulceration and the sunburn effect of the treatment, and dryness and itching, etc, it all just seems that much more bearable. The biggest change, for me, is watching this most special man in my life, my dearest husband, and seeing how he's handling all of this, with a "just do what needs to be done" mentality, seeing him practicing his spirituality, and meeting all the other radiation patients in the hospital on a daily basis, and realizing, in the midst of this, how we are, in such a truly and thankfully, clich-aed way (that is so my own word!) so blessed. I think, no matter what goes on in life, you can always find someone worse off than you, and, while you may not wish that upon anyone, at the same time, you know it happens, and, ultimately, you really can say, "well, at least...." and go from there....
   Wilson will meet his ultimate demise on March 9 in a complicated-to-me, but probably routine-to-the docs, surgery. Removing him will take not much more than an hour, and then the reconstruction doc will take over and copy and paste, beg, borrow and steal, tendons, nerves, blood vessels, skin, the kitchen sink, who knows what else, and rebuild Chuck's wrist from his thigh and calf. (which will take another 4-5 hours) If nothing else, we are living at the right time for all of this to be able to happen. A one week hospital stay will follow...
   It feels unsettling to me, to be here in NJ, indefinitely, yet not-here, in that we don't live here anymore, we don't have a home-base, we are living out of suitcases. It is all too familiar, which is handy for getting about, but too familiar, with all that we hoped to leave behind us when we moved (traffic, congestion, build-up). And yet, we are surrounded by nothing but love in the community we have here, and, once again, we are beyond grateful for that! When we are again "Happily Homeless", it will almost be like starting anew, which can be a good thing, as we have worked out the kinks of that new lifestyle, and we will have all that much more enthusiasm, because we had the adventure, we had to almost settle down again, and we will once more be out on the road-and my joy will know no bounds! In the meanwhile, yes, DIS-com-bob-U-lated, and need to be BOB-u-lated, but trying, as never before, to stay in this exact moment, and hold onto all the beauty that we have in front of us....

a Vally day thought...

2011-02-14T09:28:00.001-05:00

So, I'm hoping to soon be able to announce that "Wilson has left the building!" (never to return). This twice daily radiation is working on the little bastard, and it is still going to be a long haul, but there is a positive end in sight. In the meanwhile, we've met some very nice people in the radiation waiting room, and I personally (and I know Chuck too), have complete gratitude. Yes, this is unexpected, unwanted, but omygod, not life-threatening, and there are soooo many others that we see who are facing the worst with their cancer. We don't know how many surgeries he will face- certainly one, maybe two, who knows three-as they reconstruct his wrist area after removing Wilson, but it can all be done.
On a complete side note: it has ended up being an interesting social experiment, naming Chuck's tumor. It was a necessary sense of humor that led me to do such a thing, but it has really ended up, I think, being helpful to everyone around us. It gives a non-threatening way to refer to it, and it has removed some of the fear that necessarily happens when the word "cancer" is heard. And that works for me too...
Here we are, me and this man I love more than life itself-sitting in the family waiting room high on the 9th floor at UPenn. The Philadelphia skyline is right outside the window. Far down below us we can see an old Jewish cemetery, and all of the ant-like people and cars rushing around. This is a good place to come while we wait out the time between treatments-comfortable chairs, friendly people, internet access. It is, though, the last place I ever expected to spend Valentines day! We are the absolute, to the bone, example, me and my dude, of how life happens when you're making other plans. Had our plans played out, we'd be somewhere in the Southwest still, and I think of that often. But, life does happen so here we are, and what matters most is that we are together, and I can't ask for anything more than that. This year, on the Hallmark day of the color red (pink for me), chocolates, hearts, cards-all the detritus of V day, what is even more tangible for me is the love personified around us. I love my husband more than I ever have; this Wilson thing has solidified and deepened our love. But it goes even further than that-it is our kids, and our families, and our friends who are like family to us, and the wide community of peeps that we have who have shown us in so many ways their love for us-from Bruce and Mary Ann, to Sue and Mike, Carrie and Mike, Natalie, Diana, every one of my angel sisters, Dr Garberman and the nurses in his office, the people here at UPenn-the list is truly endless, much as their love is. This has been a time of having the right people put in our path to help us through what could be a horrible nightmare. Since the day Chuck was diagnosed and Wilson made his appearance, it has been nothing but love, and that love is returned to everyone of you from us...Happy Valentines Day!

yeah its pretty intense...moments....

2011-02-07T09:33:00.002-05:00

   For so many reasons, this one is going to be tough to write. Not the least reason being, I know my most loved husband will probably read it, and I don't want him to be worried about me more than he is, plus writing down some of this stuff literally has the ability to make me sick to my stomach, but I also need to get it out of me. Perhaps some emotional vomit will get me back on track? With apologies to all my loyal readers (yes, there are thousands of you, I just know it!) for all the ramblings that may incur...
   So, I now have a visceral understanding, deep in my gut, of the phrases I have so often read/heard over the years: "my stomach turned to acid", and "hysteria bubbled to the surface." And, after many years of hearing people say how their appetites "just disappeared" and "they couldn't keep anything down" it has happened to me. A quick back-up here (cue the beeping noise)....
   Friday, radiation appointment. Last day of the first week of radiation. Don't like it, but didn't expect anything out of the normal. (first mistake. Everything is out of the normal at the moment. Now we just have more out of the normal) Generally, Chuck is home by mid-morning after the early morning blast of what is going to kill what is in his arm. But I get a text that the medicals, after his blast, and seeing the wound care specialist (who was not happy with Wilson!), are sending him over to see our favorite doctor, Dr. Lackman, who was also not happy with Wilson. It seems that, in spite of these hot shots of radiation, Wilson is continuing to grow. Continuing to grow rapidly. And, though this was expected, is ulcerating. For the moment, for those of you who are not medically inclined, let's just not talk about what "ulcerated" means, 'cause it ain't pretty. The rest of the morning passed with "keeping busy" being the name of the game for me, and imagination needing to be reined in.
   What we learned: Wilson is, yes, growing. This dr, who is only one of two in the world, who has expertise in this particular cancer, has never seen anything like this. The significance of Wilson growing externally, is that the cancer is growing internally. And that is obvious when you see how more and more he (Wilson) basically needs his own parking lot at this point. I may garble some of this, what with lacking the language, but here is my translation of what Chuck learned. Wilson needs to be given the "Hiroshima" treatment-blast the shit out of him surgery now will accomplish nothing-the surgery is so intricate regarding veins, tendons, plus a "flap" created from a skin graft and if that is done, then more radiation, it would destroy whatever was done but further radiation would be necessary because the cancer would still be there so aforestated radiation is going to be upped to twice daily, 50% more power, 6 hours in between which means spending the entire day in Philly (it makes no sense and would cost more to go back and forth) for 12 days and if this doesn't work then they go all Hiroshima and Nagasaki but what that would do is cause so much damage to Chuck's arm and the long range effects of that massive dose of radiation as he and I discussed that he will opt instead at least where we are at the moment for amputation which is the only other possibility BIG BREATH.
   Back to the beginning of this blog. As he's telling me this, and of course I immediately feel like a wuss, I become vaguely aware that my legs are watery, my stomach is shaky, I feel sweaty, and I want to vomit. Deal with it, deal with it, and arc over to Sunday evening when we had a nauseating (okay, I did, Chuck didn't) realization that bastard Wilson went to town and got something major that really made him hit a growth spurt just since the AM hours. I won't go into appearance here. Suffice to say, it reminds me of those nasty little pictures they used to, I swear, take pleasure in showing in our 7th grade science books of all the worst portrayals of the nastiest diseases in the world, right there for your viewing pleasure. Then multiply all of those pictures by whatever the highest number in the universe is, and continue going all geometry and trigonometry and computing on it, and you start to get a vague idea of it. Or, maybe that's just me, being totally and completely and stringently non-medical and all. Bottom line for me is what this whole blog was supposed to be-knowledge of Wilson and what he looks like makes me seriously dizzy and light-headed (and not in an "Oh, I'm blonde
   I'm going to start rambling here, so will, out of mercy for all of you, put an end to this entry. We have today, this moment, and, possibly, a few lbs to lose since the whole eating thing just isn't happening...

always leave them....crying? moment...

2011-02-03T14:19:00.000-05:00

   So, to get away from the whole cancer thing, at least briefly. On Tuesday, I had my own medical moment. I did the best thing I've ever done-ever. A good friend of mine had told me about this very cool thing that I could do so that I could put a period to my period, a kibosh on the whole thing. *if you are male, and uncomfortable with this subject, please stop here*. I am so over the whole female monthly thing (is that a delicate enough way to describe it? over my visits from Aunt Flo (which I never once said!), the curse? (though I did frequently curse it) Since, if you are going to be a real writer, the same as if you are going to be a real comedian, then nothing is sacred, I am going to go ahead and write about this, because, without building up too high expectations for myself....SISTER, I AM GOING TO BE A WHOLE NEW WOMAN AND HAVE A WHOLE NEW LIFE!
   My dear, most wonderful friend/sister, Natalie, took me to the hospital for this procedure, as my dearest husband was gallivanting in Philly, getting radiation treatment, followed by a CAT scan for his chest and knee, so clearly, he was unable to accompany me. From the moment of check-in/registration, I couldn't have been more pleased with how I was treated. Being an affirmed coward when it comes to pain and how I might be experiencing it at some point, I had a little anxiety, but that was quickly done away with when they explained to me that I would be happily unaware of any pain, on account of the fun drugs they would dose me with. Yes! and it was all good from there-
   Now, all of you who know me, know that, with my new life in the last almost two years, my main topic of conversation is either "Happily Homeless" or "Tapestries of Hope". But, honestly, I don't always bring those things up myself. They just come up in conversation. In this case, this nice young nurse, as she was hooking me up to various things preparatory to going into surgery, asked me, in making talk, where I lived, etc. So, of course I had to tell her about HH. Followed by how I stay very much connected to my peeps here in NJ because of TOH. Followed by an explanation of what we do in Tapestries, and how many daughters are connected with it, etc. And I hadn't gone too much into it when she very quietly mentioned that her mom had died when she was only 4. So, you know, I had to respond to that, and we had some very moving, intense moments. And of course, you know the tears had to be falling, understandably. I told her about my friend Natalie who was with me, and her mom's name, and my mom's name, and asked her mom's name, because isn't that what its' all about? She was so sweet, and my heart just went out to her, and I invited her to join our website, and one of our groups, and she apologized for her tears, saying she never cried in front of patients, and I had no reason to doubt her. It was, in spite of the tears, a lovely moment. I was able to make her laugh again when she said I had to take a pregnancy test. After I had picked myself up from the floor from laughing so hard, I told her if it came out positive, not only did we need to look around to see if we could locate the Holy Spirit, as that would be the only way I could possibly be preggo, but that I would have to change my name to Mary, and, instead of going home at the end of the day, the ambulance could just drop me off at Hampton hospital, because I'd clearly go over the edge...(2 sterilization ops years ago, the first one being a failure and accounting for my youngest son Nick (love you, dude!)
   Flash forward to post-op. I came to, feeling warm and toasty, with soft blankets covering me, and my post-op nurse asking after me. She was wonderful, giving me what drugs I needed to make me comfortable. As she would check with me, seeing if I was truly coming to, we would talk, and somehow being HH came up, and my husband being retired Air Force came up, at which she told me about her son who was a Marine and currently deployed to Afghanistan. She showed me a picture of him so that I could put a face to the name, and we talked about the heightened adrenalin that was her new normal, and some other things having to do with that, and, next thing you know, she's wiping tears away, and apologizing to me, because she never, no, never, cries in front of patients. Which I had no cause to doubt, and I told her I'd left my pre-op nurse over in rm 2, also in tears after telling me about her mom and our conversation about grief.
   Sometimes I just have that effect on people. I don't take any credit for this particular talent of mine-clearly, people have tears to cry, and I am simply the vehicle to make it happen. Kind of a conduit, yes? But, in spite of the tears, I do always leave them laughing too, so I see it through, folks! I was giving everyone of them hugs, and they were telling me how sweet I was, and it was, in general, a feel-good fest. And, at the end of the day, what I know, is I never have to have another period, and I am happy, happy, happy! I have heard women in the past say that they weren't looking forward to the whole menopause thing, 'cause they would feel less of a woman, blah, blah. Are you kidding me? NOW, or at least soon as I heal up, is when I am going to start living my life as I've never been able to live it before!! Can you spell C-E-L-E-B-R-A-T-E?!! Can I put a page full of explanation points that will begin to convey my absolute, overwhelming joy at having done this? I may even become an evangelist with this procedure. Ladies, don't wait-call your gyn today, and get that rolling! Run, as fast as you can and get it done! Done having kids? Don't wait! We love the little buggers, but, hell, let's git 'er done!! I am happy, happy, and the conga line of celebration is now forming....

Where we Don't want to be, but thank god we're here...

2011-01-30T10:54:00.001-05:00

My mind has been racing since our consult appt with the dr from UPenn on Thursday. I have wanted to write, but can't nail any one thought down at any point so that I can start. So with pardons to all ahead of the game, I'll get us all started on this new chapter of our life called "Shit, Its Cancer-Now What?"

Snow, snow and more snow started our day, but we knew ahead of time that, at least insofar as getting our car on the road, we wouldn't have a problem. Dear friends of ours, who have hearts as huge as can be, came over in the dark, before we were even up, cleaned our car off, and shoveled our car out of all that snow. Life made so much easier for us, and one less thing to be concerned with for that day! It was a fairly easy trip to the train station, short walk from the train station to the office in Philly. All good.

And then, Life changed. As it does. Our great anticipation was: dr looks at the tumor, says "holy shit! and sets a date for surgery to remove that little bastard. How it happened: dr looked at tumor, looked at MRI's (which are almost negligible at this point, as the tumor has grown so much), possibly says "holy shit!" to self, but says to us chemo isn't an option, won't do any good. Radiation needs to start today, very far advanced (at which point I say to myself "no shit!"), and if insurance won't come on board immediately, then he'll admit Chuck to hospital, so treatment can start stat. Yes, its that bad. Its big, its ugly, getting bigger, getting uglier. The whole wrist is involved, side to side. It goes down deep into the wrist, the top of his arm is swollen, going up to the elbow. Already loss of movement in hand (small motor movement-grasping and such). Course of treatment, or battle plan, as I would call it: five weeks radiation, from slightly below the thumb area, up to maybe a couple inches below the elbow followed by 3-4 weeks off, as radiation continues to work followed by ONE week hospital stay for surgery. "WHAT?" I say to myself. The general gist of things: there is so little room to move on the wrist. Radiation will hopefully (yes, it will, I say), shrink the tumor, pull it away from nerves, tendons, etc, kill the tentacles of cancer that are reaching out from the ugly center of the tumor. Dr will have to beg, borrow and steal nerves, veins, whatever else is needed, from other parts of the body, including skin from Chuck's back, (in order to create a flap, to cover what I imagine will be a gaping hole.) All of this, of course, needs to be watched carefully, to avoid infection blah, blah, blah.... Post operative occupational therapy-between radiation damage and what they are able to string together during surgery, where he is now with the use of his hand maybe where he will stay. Which isn't too bad right now. Side effects from radiation are so individual. There maybe fatigue, maybe some, maybe none. The tumor is going to have the hell burned out of it, and there will be ulcers that will show themselves externally as the poisons surface. Just calling them ulcers and stopping there is manageable to me-realizing what that actually means is, yeah, different. Sores, and not pretty ones, dotting the landscape of his forearm. Yes, they will be covered, so that's good. If all of this doesn't work, or the cancer returns (10% chance of that happening, so good odds), then next step is amputation. Which, when you think of it, we're lucky, because prior to 1989, amputation was the standard protocol when it came to this cancer...

By the time we went downstairs, across the street to the hospital, the powers-that-be had orchestrated things on the phone with insurance, and we had a consult with the oncological radiologist, and an intern. They spent time with us, explained and answered everything, and got Chuck right in for the fitting and tattoo session for radiation. I wondered aloud to Chuck if maybe the person doing the tattoo for him would be a burly, long bearded guy, think Harley-Davidson, wearing a leather vest with ties in the front. Now that would make it an experience! (such wasn't the case-oh, well). As we sat in radiology, I looked at brochures for "cancer survivorship", etc, and thought, "wow, never thought to be here!" Conversely, with cancer now in our lives, thank god we're here. These peeps know their shit, and will help us.

The entire day was spent in Philly-there is so much more to tell-another few blogs! By the time we walked out of there, speaking for myself, I was overwhelmed, exhausted, done, done, done. The world of cancer. And so much to think about.

As a final word on this blog: Radiation starts on Monday, and, henceforth, the tumor is known as "Wilson". Sense of humor is massively important, and, seriously, that damn tumor is big enough that it warrants its' own name. (and, really, its' own zip code) However, we don't expect Wilson to be around for long...his demise is in the cards already...burn, baby, burn!

how a "Dear Penthouse" letter starts, and yet, this isn't...

2011-01-26T13:11:00.000-05:00

   Don't all Penthouse letters start "I can't believe this really happened to me" or, "I'm not the kind of person who believes in this stuff" (not that I ever read a Penthouse letter, mind you..)
   I'm thinking back, 15 years ago, when I sat at my brother Kysa's bedside, as he was dying, and had my life changed forever. My own experience mirrors that of many others, I'm sure, but it was something I never thought would happen in my life. I don't know that I even knew about such things, though I'm sure somewhere in my reading, I had seen the term near-death experience.
   This was the first time, being with my brother Kysa, I had ever been around anyone so ill, and possibly and probably, dying. So I went in with a clean slate and no pre-conceived notions. It was one of those suspended times. You just kind of go with the flow-or at least that's what I was doing. What dying actually consisted of, all the implications of it...who knew? There wasn't even fear going on with me-it was more uncertainty than anything, about how to care for him when I was alone with him, and concern that I wouldn't do it right, or hurt him unknowingly.
   There were so many moments in that last week of Kysa's life-maybe someday I'll make it into a book. And I'm looking back on it now from 15 years (my god, that number is inconceivable to me!). Now, with all I've learned since then, I have much more of a frame of reference...
   Kysa was surprisingly alert in that week. The cancer had taken so much from him, and he was in a hospital bed, and we had hospice in (my first exposure to that wonderful way of life support!) At times, he would drift in and out, yes, but he was there.
   The day before Kysa died, I was doing something out in the kitchen. Their house was so very small, and it was just a couple steps around the corner to go into his room, where he had a hospital bed. I went in to check on him, but stopped short at the door of the bedroom. Kysa was sitting up in bed, his eyes open and trained intently on the far right corner of his room, not too far from a window. His gaze was so strong and focused that I had to stop, as I felt like I was intruding-though, why I don't know, as there was nobody there that I could see. I said nothing to him, only watched. For a moment there was a quiet silence, and then Kysa nodded and said quietly "yes." Another silence, as if he was listening to someone, and his eyes were still trained on that right corner. Again, he said "yes", another moment of nothing, and then he said "thank you", and that was it. He lay back and closed his eyes. I could speculate in so many ways about that, but I chose to let it just be what it was, and so I let it rest now, and you may draw your own conclusions. Who knows? Until I put it with what happened the following day...
   On the afternoon of the day he died, my sister Catharine came over to sit with Kysa. His wife, Sarah, was at school (yes, surprisingly, life does continue on). Catharine was out in the living room, speaking to our brother David, who was in South Africa, updating him as to Kysa's condition. I decided to leave her to her phone call, and go sit with Kysa. Two steps to his bedroom door, and no more than two steps in, and I was stopped short in my tracks. Kysa was asleep, peacefully, it seemed, with the back of his bed elevated, so he was half-sitting up. (He wouldn't ever let me lower the bed so that he was lying down). I wasn't frightened, just curious, but more than that-is there a word? Because what I heard was music, and it was coming from the same corner of the room that he had been looking at the previous afternoon. Quiet music. I stepped further into the room to look for a source. No radio playing, no music from anywhere in the room. Look outside the windows. Nobody walking by with music playing. Nothing was playing anywhere in the house. There was no source to be found. So, I just quietly, so as not to wake him, went and sat next to his bed. Not seconds later, Catharine came in, and stopped in the exact place I had, and she was clearly listening to something, and looking in the same corner as I had, and that Kysa had been looking towards the day before. I asked her "Catharine, do you hear anything?" And she answered "music". I told her that I had heard something too, but could find no source for it. "Its the angels gathering for Kysa", she finally said, and we let it rest.
   Kysa started dying that night. It didn't start out well-he let out a scream, clutched his head, and stopped breathing. I was horrified-his eyes were still open. And, in one of those moments that you just have to laugh (at least afterwards, with time),the one thought going through my head was "I have to get his eyes closed. How do I keep his eyes closed?", and I put my hand over his eyes, and remembered that (thank goodness that I was an avid history reader!), when Abraham Lincoln died, they had placed gold coins over his eyes to weight them. And actually cast about in my mind for where I might have some gold coins-
   He did start breathing again, and we went on through the night. He would open his eyes frequently, make a comment to us, or to nobody. One time he said so clearly "there are so many choices, so many doors." My heart was breaking as I watched him, so I kept busy, giving him ice chips, a cold cloth, whatever I could. It took forever, it took minutes. He had, up to this point, stubbornly refused to lie down on the bed, but he finally looked at us and said "I'm ready. Help me lie down". And so started his dying. And, at some point I became aware that my "job" now, with him, was to be his cheerleader, to be a witness to what was going on...and I would say to him, "come on, Kysa, just one step further. You're almost there. One more step." I said everything, I said nothing, and became aware that something was going on, something that was beyond us, something that truly was only Kysa. This was his-and I was only permitted to go so far with him. He seemed to be straining towards a place, towards something unseen by others in the room. In hindsight, it felt like I was going through a near-death experience, but not my own. It was as if I went all the way to the edge of the cliff with Kysa, and saw the veil between this world and the next lifted, saw him step through, but had to step back-this was his, not mine. The most astounding part for me was, when I finally realized he had died, when Sarah and I woke at 3 AM on the morning of the 26, I felt, not sadness, not pain, but joy such as I had never felt before, triumph for him-he had run a race and he had come in first. Such joy, such total and complete love as I had never, ever experienced.
   My sister Catharine and I washed and dressed him ourselves, our final gift to him. We laid him on an oak body board that her husband Robert had made for him. We wrapped him in colorful cloth-paisley pattern, solids, brights-friends and family had donated in the months ahead of his death. On his chest we placed a dream catcher made by our sister, we tucked a self-portrait done by our youngest brother under his arm. We rested his head upon a crochet quilt, made by our mom. And we went with him to be cremated. I was in the first car behind the hearse that would take him to the cemetery, along with my younger brother in the seat beside me. As we were winding our way up the steep hill leading to the cemetery, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a bird coming right at my car, a bird with a HUGE wing-span. Except that it was no regular bird. Holy shit! is all I could think or say-it was an EAGLE, wings spread wide, and it swooped down and passed right in front of my windshield! What makes this all the more stupefying is that, in the previous week, as I sat with Kysa, I would gaze out his window, to a stand of rocks not too far away, and watch as an eagle would drift high above on the wind currents. I saw this eagle numerous times, drifting, swaying on the winds, as Kysa drifted, swaying with the currents of his body...was this the same eagle?
   We all went into the huge building that housed the crematoria. Each person there was invited to step up to him and say whatever they wanted to say, and kiss him goodbye if they so wished. We piled him with colorful flowers, representing each of his family/friends who weren't able to be there. We rang chimes, we read aloud. It was just impossible for me to walk away from him, but I finally did. His widow Sarah, wanted to be alone with him as the gurney delivered his body to the flames. I was walking out with Catharine, and, as I lifted my foot to breach the door sill, I heard a great "whoosh!" sound, and I turned around and looked, and, from the chimney atop the building, saw a puff of white smoke. Yes, I knew what it was, but, once again, I was taken aback at the feelings that arose in me when I saw it-feelings of joy so strong, so triumphant, that I wanted to leap in the air, and scream "YES!!" as Kysa's spirit was finally released to the skies above, a clear, bright blue sky on a very cold January day in southwest Colorado. He had been freed from the body that so constrained him during his illness, and, in that, I could only feel beauty, and, as if life had finally done something right. It was merely the completion of what had gone on in his room as he was dying. And it took me many years, and much exploration, before I was able to give words to what that entire experience had been for me, from the time I stepped in his room to see him staring at the far right corner, to the sight of white smoke raising up to the skies, carrying my beloved brother to the next place....
   It was the day my spirit opened up, and expanded, and saw life, and beauty, as I'd never seen it before. My eyes opened, and I felt, and I saw, and knew, and my life opened and was never the same...

the moments that changed my life forever moment...

2011-01-25T22:59:00.002-05:00

From my Journal

Jan 16, 1996

I think we are saying goodbye to Kysa. Have spoken to Maggie who heard from Catharine. She has been to see Kysa in the hospital-they signed a release form to take him off the saline IV. He has a morphine drip, which he is able to administer as he needs. When Maggie first spoke to Catharine, she said when she saw Kysa, to please go to him for us and look him right in the eyes, and tell him everyone of us, and mention us name by name, love him and we are praying. She did that and she spoke to him and told him that we would all be okay if he had to go. And she said, for a brief minute, he opened his eyes and looked right at her and told her “I’m not worried anymore.” Catharine said his skin is almost translucent, and today his spirit was coming through more strongly than she has seen it in a very long time. The doctors from hospice said that they would estimate a week to 10 days on the outside; given the condition his body is in. They did say his heart and lungs are fairly strong still: it’s just the rest of his body that is shutting down. So he is getting no nourishment-he sipped a little 7-up, but that’s all. He is not able to swallow anything. But he has found a measure of peace-thank you God, for that. And Catharine is truly making an effort. She told Maggie that anybody should call her at anytime, and she is being supportive and compassionate with mom and dad. I had real concerns how things would go. She seems to have changed though and wants to do all she can to be the message center, and allow everyone else to do things, as they need to. I don’t know if David is out of the country, I don’t know if Ken has been called. All the practical matters of death must be dealt with-we can at least all rest easy that Kysa is finding some peace.

Jan 20

Aboard Continental heading towards Houston, then Denver. I never thought to be doing this back in June I thought that was it, and that I’d said goodbye to Kysa. Now that I have decided to go, I worry that he will die before I get there. And I worry that the plane will crash, and I’ll die, and how will mom and dad deal with the deaths of 2 children. And I worry that when Chuck goes into talk to Pat on Monday about Walt and how out of hand he is, and if they fire him or demote him, then Walt is the high wire type that would come back with a grudge and shoot Sarge. It’s all-irrational, I know, but at the moment I’m feeling very shaky. Neither Sarge nor I slept much last nite. Alec had gone to spend the night with a friend, but he called at 1:30 and asked if he could come home because he was homesick. Thank goodness Lawrence’s folks understood, and they drove him home. I know that what it was is my leaving, and Kysa being so ill, and me being upset about it. This is all so unreal, even if it was anticipated. And to be honest, a part of me still believes that Kysa will come through this too. That he won’t get any better, but that he will linger on and on like this. And I have trepidation about being in Durango. I know I will be crying, and I don’t know if it will be accepted, and for me, that means, they don’t accept me. I have talked to myself, and made plans in my head but it is stressful going into it, especially not knowing what is going to happen-and knowing how traumatic it was in June. And yet I feel I need to go-for Kysa, for myself, for mom and dad, for Maggie and Joseph, since they can’t. If Kysa is going to die, and it seems as though he is, I want to be there, if I can, to share as much as I can, his journey.

2^nd leg of my journey”

A change of planes in Houston. I hadn’t realized we would be stopping there. In the midst of all my emotions, I stopped to think it was pretty neat to be in Texas, if only at the airport. It’s the only time I’ve been there since I was born. This trip is awfully long, made longer, I’m sure, because of my anxiety to reach Kysa. Once I get into Denver, there is a long layover to Durango. That part of the trip is absolutely one I’m not looking forward to-I hate the little puddle jumpers over the mountains. Really working the tools of the program—

3^rd Leg”

Caught an earlier flight to Durango. I’m exhausted and the closer I get, the more pain I feel. The Rockies, snow-covered, are below me. Their magnificence proves to me there is a God. I need to hold close to my spirituality in the next weeks-that will get me through this. I talked briefly to Sarge in Denver. I miss him, I miss his strong arms and loving words.

Jan 21

I am here with Kysa, sitting at his bedside. I have prayed, I have meditated, and now I try to put words to paper. What is going on is so big that it is difficult to put it on paper. I wish I had Joseph’s creativity and artistry; maybe it would be easier. Every so often, the morphine drip gives a soft “zzzt” sound. Helped Kysa shift in the bed, he had slipped down. He sleeps mostly-but every so often he’ll open his eyes and move his hands. Sometimes he will drink a sip of water. His throat hurts, which makes it hard for him to swallow. Sarah rented him a hospital bed, which is good, and he has flannel sheets on it, with a down comforter. That will make Maggie feel better. She was worried about that. I worry about my competence to take care of Kysa-I want to, and am more than willing. I’m just afraid I’ll do something wrong. He speaks only in the barest whisper-it is very difficult to understand him. I hope this doesn’t sound too awful, but I sit here and think, what if Kysa should die while I’m here? What do I do? My heart breaks for him; he is such a shell of who he was. The tumors in his neck have grown from under his ear to down to his collarbone. There is such a thin layer of skin to cover him. Around his neck he wears a necklace of amber beads with a jade Buddha. I pray that God will have mercy on him and release him from this.

Jan 22, 2:45pm

Bonnie (Hospice) just left. She’s a lovely, warm person. Took all Kysa’s vital signs-his blood pressure is low but she says that is not necessarily indicative of anything, as he has always had low BP. He is to be given as much morphine as he wants, to be comfortable. There is some fluid in his lungs, and that is indicative of the stage of death; his heart cannot pump fast enough to distribute liquid so it settles into a dependent area. She does not think he will die today-though she said there are no firm ways to predict. She did tell us other signs to look for. He has some bedsores but he doesn’t want to move positions and Bonnie said at this point she isn’t too concerned about them. The next few days should see this done.

Meanwhile, I don’t even allow the thought inside my head as to what the possibilities are with mom. Maggie told me yesterday on the phone that she has noticed a large growth on mom’s left breast. It is large enough that it is noticeable under her blouse. She at first thought she was imagining it and she asked Joseph and Eric if they had noticed anything. They had noticed the same thing. When Maggie questioned mom about it, she said mom almost seemed angry that she had mentioned it, and quickly changed the subject. The one thing I know out of it all is that mom won’t go have it checked. And I have fear that it truly might be a cancerous tumor, and I can’t begin to deal with that yet. I am not surprised, if it is something, that it is a growth over her heart. I know Kysa’s illness and pain have broken her heart, and I don’t know that she will much survive him. All I can do is continue to pray, and then pray some more.

Jan 25, 4:15 pm

My heart breaks for Kysa. I was just watching him as he was lying in bed, and he turned his head to the window and looked out. What does he think about as he lies there, basically immobilized? Whenever he moves, it is in slow motion, or like he’s moving underwater. He has quite a bit of pain in his legs and we have upped the morphine in the last 24 hours to more than twice from Monday. It is now 9 mgs. I wasn’t able to write yesterday, too busy caring for Kysa, too tired from being up, too emotional with what’s going on. The days are all starting to run together, so I maybe repeating myself at times. There have been some special moments: Kysa eating the fresh snow that Robert R. brought him, Kysa, when I was talking to him about the lights, and moving down the tunnel, looking right at me saying, albeit in a near whisper “I know all about that crap!” Kysa asking me about my can of Pepsi, asking me to massage him, him reaching for my hand twice last niter, and saying to me that I must be exhausted. I have prayed and prayed and now, very often, I beg God to release his spirit. Please, God, what is being accomplished by this? His body is covered in the mottled purple bruising that happens, huge purple welts. His feet and legs hurt, my heart breaks over and over again. Mom sent a beautiful letter to Kysa and Sarah, which arrived today. Kysa was conscious enough to have it read to him.

“In my imagination, I am in the same room you are, making you as comfortable as possible, and putting all my love in the atmosphere around you. That is my wish for you, that you are surrounded by people who love you and keep you comfortable, and that you are at peace.

Everyone in your family wants the very best for you-your father, Joseph, Maggie, Robert, Alison, Catharine, Dave, Ken, your nieces and nephews, and me. I participate spiritually at Mass everyday, uniting myself to the millions of people in every place and circumstance in the world-all of us offering this powerful prayer.

My special thanks to you, Sarah, for your generous spirit and the love and energy you are giving to Kysa. I appreciate every effort you make, and my prayers are always for you to continue to be able to do all the things you are doing for Kysa. Try to allow yourself some rest when possible, and remember that everyone is sending you love, best wishes, energy-whatever you need at this time. My love to you both and prayers, Mom.

Jan 26, 1996

Kysa Charles Mandeville Miller died this morning at 3:00 am. Sarah and I were here with him, and with a little distance, I will be able to take in the huge experience this all has been. I believe I am numb at the moment-lack of sleep and such an intense amount of emotion-and relief that it is finally over. Shock that its over because a part of me believed it would go on forever, and the surreal feeling of it all. I have cried, but I know there is much more. I need to come to grips with the physical aspect of it-the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, the pain of seeing my brother suffocate. There are memories that I need to learn to view in another perspective. It was at once the most dreadful and terrifying and most life-giving event of my life. Around 6:00 last night we were just having a conversation. Sarah had just come home early from class. And she suddenly got this look on her face and cried “Kysa, what’s wrong?” He was starting to strangle and she propped him up. I thought that he was going to die at that point-I had no idea how long it would actually take. From that point on the whole thing blurs-we got Kysa to breathe a bit more normally but we knew he was starting the process and I called Robert Royem to have him and Catharine come over. She was still in class but he came over and we started talking Kysa through his pain. We told him to let go, fly away. There were tears in all of our eyes-he was struggling so. At some point Catharine called and I told her to come over immediately. She brought Jessica, Audrey, and Alysa. To an outside observer it was, I’m sure, a fascinating scene. We prayed, we meditated, we did Reiki on Kysa, anything to help him. I tried reaching our brother Robert at Farquarht’s-but the music there was so loud they couldn’t hear me, and hung up. A few minutes later I took the phone outside to try again. This time I was able to reach him and told him to come over. God, the feeling of relief was indescribable! I knew Robert needed the opportunity to spend time with Kysa, given all that has gone on in the past months. Robert came over and it broke my heart all over again to see him kneeling next to Kysa and holding his hand. Kysa was in and out of it by now-but amazingly lucid considering the amount of morphine he was getting. He knew Robert was there and they held hands for a long time. Kysa looked right at him and told him to take care of himself. I kept busy with giving Kysa ice chips or water-he was so very thirsty, or massaging his legs and arms. There was a certain consciousness throughout the evening-amazing really. Audrey fixed his feet for him at one point, and he winked at her. He continually asked for water and at one point wanted some of Catharine’s peach juice. She put some on her finger and rubbed it on his lips and in his mouth. There was a point in the evening at which we could see he was wanting to let go, and he said he was ready. Yet his body continued to hang on. Lots of water, he said, people were made of water, lots of fun in water. He looked at all of us and said we were all wonderful people. The physical aspect of what was happening was horrible to watch really-his body turning purple where the blood was congealing, the terrible thirstiness. We kept telling him to go towards the light, that Grandpa was waiting for him. I was very proud of myself that all of it, I was able to handle-I didn’t fall apart. I got ice for him, cold cloths; he was burning up internally, massaged his arms and legs. Through parts of it, he had us all laughing-his sense of humour was there. There were tears too, lots of them. Near 11:00 or so, we realized we were going to need more morphine for him before morning, and I was to go and get it. Catharine sent Jessica and Alysa home with Robert at that point, and I dropped Robert M. off at his apt after picking up the morphine at Mercy. When I got back to the house, Sarah changed the syringe-he was getting quite a lot by that point. He was thirsty and I stood to give him another ice chip. At that moment, he clutched his head and let out a horrifying cry-and stopped breathing. I will never forget that moment. I don’t know how long passed and I went to the phone to call Catharine and tell her that Kysa had died. While I was on the phone, Sarah called me from the bedroom, and I went back in and he had started breathing again. It was the apnea that I had read about. And that is when the torturous part started, of watching my brother suffocate. He was saying throughout the evening to help him and we did all we could to make him comfortable, but we were limited. From midnight on, he was making a horrible breathing sound-it was so constant-I never though it would end. He had consented to a pair of socks by then, and we covered him with the flannel sheet and a light blanket. We begged him to let go, but he didn’t seem able to. After listening to it for a while, Sarah took his drum, and started pounding it lightly. I stroked his hair and arm and told him to let go, to fly free. I have never loved anyone so much as I did Kysa in those moments. He struggled so. Earlier in the evening, I had seen the moment in his eyes where he became ready and he said he was, and that there were so many choices. I truly felt he was looking directly at God. And now, in those final few hours, I had to realize that most of Kysa’s spirit had already left, and just a small part remained to finish the physical aspect of death. It wrenched my heart to see-he was struggling so, and for brief flashes, I would see consciousness in his eyes, and a tear fell from his right eye. I almost lost it then and tried to cover my ears to the noises he was making. I went out to the living room and begged God over and over, let is stop, please make it stop, why does he have to suffer so? When I went back in, Sarah was lying half on the bed and I told her we had to sleep-this could go on for hours. The morphine was as high as it could go on the dial; I felt that if we could give him enough more to relax him physically, that he might be able to let go spiritually, so Sarah and I used the syringe to pump more in. The sounds he was making continued, but more slowly. It seems the physical pain had been distracting him. I fixed the pillows for Sarah-she lay down next to him with her hand over his heart, and I covered her, and I lay down on the futon couch beside his bed. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with the breathing noises he was making, it was so loud, but Sarah and I were both so exhausted that the moment we put our heads down, we were asleep. I’ll never know what woke me up, but at 3:00 am I woke suddenly and stood up, and called Sarah’s name. She woke at the same time and we realized the noise had stopped, and we looked at Kysa and realized that he had died. His body had been getting cold even before we slept, and his lips blue, but now he was cold all over. It was shocking to realize it was my brother lying there; I didn’t know what to do, so I went to make tea for Sarah, and then I called Catharine to tell her. So much of what happened is a blur. I made phone calls to Maggie, to dad, to Joseph, and my heart broke anew each time I said he had died. Once Catharine arrived, she went into the bedroom and I went out to the living room. I had so much pain inside of me that I didn’t know what to do, so I lay down on the couch. I don’t know how much later it was when Catharine came out and asked if I wanted to go back to her house to sleep. I didn’t know if I wanted to or not but it was an action to take, so I went and asked Sarah if she wanted me to stay and she said it didn’t matter. She was lying next to Kysa on his bed, her arms around him. I didn’t realize she was in shock too, so I put on my boots and went over to Catharine’s. It was over....

friends for the soul...

2011-01-10T21:45:00.000-05:00

   Sunday, and Chuck felt the need to get out of the house, following our surgery adventures on Friday. Or maybe he was thinking of me, and how social I am, and thinking that the distraction would be good for me. In any event, we ended up going over to see our friends Bruce and Mary Ann. In all the times since we hit the road traveling, whenever we return to NJ, they have always invited us over for a home-cooked meal (love them for that!), and we would share some of our travel adventures with them. They, and their home, and their grown sons, are so very welcoming-theirs is the house where neighbors can gather.
   It wasn't anything special, which is what made it so nice. We watched bits and pieces of the game that was on (football, but don't ask me anything about it, as I have no understanding of the game, and its all I can do to remember which team is playing). I showed Mary Ann my hoop, and she tried it out, and became a "hoopvert", we watched our youngest daughter Rae's newest hoop video that she had posted, were properly envious, and swore that we could do that someday too! Just-fun...
   A simple supper of tacos, a little discussion of what is going on with Chuck, so much love and support-these are the things that matter so much to me. Yes, food can bring people together at a table, but the true nourishment comes from the love that is so present at a table when friends sit together. And, when we left, tight hugs that left us still wrapped in their love and warmth, even as we walked out into the frigid cold. No matter how any of this turns out, it is these friends, and all of our other friends, who will surround us in that same warmth, and, that, people, is what will make our days continue joyfully...

The Anatomy of a Conversation upon Cancer Diagnosis....

2011-01-09T08:47:00.004-05:00

   I've had these conversations in the past. Its human nature. Someone you know, someone you love, has been diagnosed with cancer. Nothing else is really known. Its the waiting room before you get the details-what kind of cancer, how wide-spread is it, what will be done about it....all those details that will determine a life for the unforeseeable future.
   Its almost humorous, but of course, not, since it is the man I love more than life. He has cancer, it is rare, the doc opened his wrist up, intending to remove the entire tumor, saw that it wasn't what it had been thought, did a small incision to send to pathology, and closed it up. Cautious not to disturb anything until he knows what exactly he is dealing with.
   Here is where my own internal conversations start, and the conversations of those around me. The "at least" conversations. This is what we know. And this is where we go from here....
   "At least he's a cautious doctor. Good thing he didn't just go blowing in and remove it, disturbing it, and taking the risk of spreading it. That's good."
   "At least it is contained. He'll just have to go in and remove it, and life will continue. That's good."
   "At least, the doc is proactive. Going to get in there and get it quickly. That's good."
   And that's all true.
   From there, (and I'm not meaning or trying to project anything here!), the conversations go outward-you know, once the doc tells you that its a little more complicated than he thought:
   "Its a very treatable cancer. That's good."
   "If you were going to HAVE a cancer, this is the one to have." (the cancer lottery?)
   "This is definitely treatable. We'll get things started right away."
   "You're strong, you have a great attitude. That's good." (I'm sure everyone who gets cancer strives frantically to have a good attitude, as if that is the magic cure)
   And, as it develops, and treatments are offered and gone through, and our lives change drastically in order to accomodate it, the conversations, which began at the center of the circle, widen, and the "at leasts" get a little more shallow, and the "that's good" get a little less certain. Which, interestingly, is not to say that I feel pessimistic about any of it. And one of the primary reasons I don't feel pessimistic is because it is just too unreal a thought. I can only think of this as a blip on the screen...
   Cancer and my husband? Nah, it just doesn't go together. Yes, its isolated, and that's good-but don't all cancer diagnoses start out with good possibilities? But what I want to know, and didn't have time to ask about, is what are the implications of it being so fast growing? Isn't that bad? It seems bad to me. Even if it is localized. What is feeding it that it is growing so fast? Shouldn't we be concerned about that? What if, as careful as the doctor is, and we do like him and trust him, a minute miniscule particle, really so small as not to be noticed, part of that liquid sack leaks into the surrounding area, and shoots through his blood system, and he seems okay but it pops its' head up again in a few months? We all know that can happen.
   Next year this time, I tell myself, we'll be out traveling somewhere again, with this in our past. Shoot, by the Spring, this will be in our past, right?
   It makes me not care about money. We try to be careful in what we spend-Donald Trumps we're not. But, given this, who the hell cares? My first response was to go out and buy a box of chocolates and a 6 pack of diet pepsi. Coping tools as far as I'm concerned. Oh, and a bag of cheez curls. Who cares really, if it helps me deal with this. But you know what? I quickly realized I could do this for only so long. Who needs to be fat and unhealthy while dealing with something like this? So, yes, it all got demolished, and lord knows, there are worse ways to cope, but that was a one time only pass (until Tuesday when we get the pathology reports possibly). It makes me not care about so much-the small shit that I really don't care about anyways, I'm thankful to say (after all, this is my continuing year of my "I don't give a fuck" tour.) I am eternally thankful that I long ago realized that those I love and who love me, are what its all about. And I have been living in the moment, enjoying my life with Chuck and feeling blessed. So this is not going to suddenly reveal a huge life lesson to me about priorities. It will strengthen my resolve to continue loving my life, loving my husband, and strengthen my determination to spend the next months, AFTER this is taken care of, being with him, and going off on our own to further explore this country we love. THAT is my biggest thought-
   Mainly, I'm calm, interspersed with wild thinking, and the fear tears can be fully operational when talking with anyone about all of this (words spoken aloud make it all so real). Day to day life resumes, and it has to be lived while we're waiting. Today, the house needs to get cleaned up, I need to organize my belongings (it will help me organize my brain), and I intend to do the 30 day hooping challenge, both for working off the inches around my hips/waist, as a stress buster, and to just have some fun.
   We are so surrounded by love, it boggles the mind. Between my angel sisters, and Chuck's friends, and our friends in common...the support is more than I could ever imagine. So, despite THIS, life is still good....

the continuing saga of my brain...

2011-01-06T19:08:00.000-05:00

   So, surgery is set for 7:15 AM-Chuck will be the 2nd surgery of the day, which is good. The doctor will be fresh and bright-eyed. And my wonderful friend Natalie, who is as a sister to me, is going the extra mile to get up at the butt crack of dawn to drive over here and go with us to the hospital to keep me company. And I'm taking my hoop and IPOD, just in case there is room for me to de-stress by hooping, which I'm sure there will be. So all of this is good. All the required testing this week was done in much quicker time than we had thought it would be, and it is all coming together. And he's getting surgery first thing, so we don't have to wait throughout the day.
   But wait! says my brain. Hang on a second! Yes, its excellent that Chuck is second on the docket. Didn't I hear someone say in the past week that surgeries are scheduled according to their seriousness? I can't remember if I actually heard someone say that or if my brain is making it up. So, does that mean that this is really serious, in spite of my other brain saying its' no big deal? Does the dr know something we don't know? And, yes, blah, blah, blah, and its like my brain is a horse in the Kentucky Derby, running full-out, hugging the corners, breathless, sweating....you get the picture. Exhausting to be me sometimes! I think some of the brain exhaustion comes from the fact that I am keeping the calmness going while, simultaneously, being wired for sound, and holding those two things together, racing together at the same pace....
   Oh, and then, of course, there is the thinking that tells me, "O, come on, Alison, for God's sake, stop making such a fuss about this! (Self-sufficient me is even struggling with having anyone go with me tomorrow-shouldn't I be just perfectly okay on my own?) But the other part of me, who has always gone through things alone in my life, says, "for God's sake, Alison, let others support you!" Jebus Cripes, I'm all over the place, aren't I?!!
   So, which horse is going to win, folks? Its either going to be a no big deal surgery, or a big deal outcome. Either way, at least this waiting will be done, and that's a good thing. Too bad stress doesn't burn calories-I'd come out of this a size 2....

Alison

My brain, NOT on drugs...

2011-01-06T13:14:00.001-05:00

   I'm thinking of that commercial about the brain, where they show the egg, and then show your brain on drugs. Thank goodness I'm not on drugs-my brain is already nuts enough in this past week! Here's how it works:
     Chuck had his chest xray, and his bone scan yesterday. They will be faxed over to Dr Culp to see prior to the surgery. These were ordered to rule out the tumor in Chuck's wrist being a "metz" so to speak, from somewhere else. Nobody has read them yet, but Chuck has a copy of each. And, there is a shadow on each of his lungs, and a very defined shadow in his right knee. The tumor in his wrist is very fast growing, in circumference, and height. It is red and warm to the touch-clearly his body is trying to fight something off. At the beginning of the week, there was a pressure/tightness in his arm; in the last two days it is now painful to the elbow, which isn't surprising, as tendons/muscles are involved. That's why we won't know anything until after the surgery, as to whether he will need therapy-the dr can't tell how much muscle/tendon is involved, so won't know how much he needs to remove. The tumor will be entirely removed and sent for biopsy, and we'll hopefully know fairly quickly whether it is benign or cancerous.
     So, them's the facts. Realistically, we know nothing. I have two sides of my brain working, in true Gemini fashion, and they both seem able to operate efficiently at the same time. The one side is saying, of course it isn't anything. He has no other symptoms, he is healthy. Even if it IS something, it has clean lines, and is encapsulated. They'll remove it and that will be it- some therapy at the most. And I'm very calm about the whole thing. Nothing is known, no use in speculating, don't borrow trouble, etc...
   Other brain: Lord knows, we all know that cancers can appear out of nowhere all the time. Been there, done that. So that means that this CAN be something. And what I heard the dr say was that he wanted to rule OUT lung cancer/bone cancer. Why would he say that if he didn't have a suspicion? And then shadows showed up on each of those. People can appear completely healthy one day, and BOOM! cancer the next day and their entire life changes. But of course it isn't anything, and you know WHY? Because I"m going in for an ovarian biopsy next week (some cysts dr wants to check out) and I'll end up being the one with cancer-that's how it happens all the time. Chuck will be the false scare, I'll be the real one. But I don't want to think that way, and I don't want to worry our kids, but I've always been honest with them, so I'm giving them the facts and just a little more as far as my concerns, but not too much. And, well, blah, blah, blah....
   All of the while my brain is going like this, I am overwhelmed with the love and support of all of my angel sisters and our friends here in NJ, who are all reaching out to us, and friends from around the country who are reaching out to us-and we don't even KNOW anything-except that we aren't alone in any way, and that is the one thing I DO know for sure-
   By next week this time, all will be revealed, and I hang on to that-
Alison

To Throw Up, or not to Throw Up-the eternal Question....

2011-01-03T13:51:00.001-05:00

   FINALLY, to Philly and the Hand Surgery Ctr today for our appt. Obviously here, I am using the royal "we" because it is my lovely and loving husband who has the tumor on his wrist, not I. And he is handling all of this much better than I, emotionally. Must be his military background.....
   The doc did seem concerned at the rapid growth of the tumor, so I am happy to say that he is being very proactive about it. (as he was saying "let's get you in and take care of that right away", I was thinking "that's excellent that he is being so quick about it, he's obviously concerned-but is that a good thing that he is being so quick about it and so obviously concerned? Does that mean that there really is cause for concern? Should I be worried more than I am? But I'm trying NOT to be worried at all-I need to be in the moment, and we don't know anything anyways, and....and....and.....and my mind is off and running-
   We truly don't know anything, and the doc DID seem confident that long-term is good. Before he could even really tell us anything, Chuck looked across to him and, taking my hand, said "you have to know, my wife already has me cremated", which made the doc smile, and he DID reassure us that he foresees a long future for this man I love more than anything. So that's good. But what I heard, too, was the tests he wants done to rule OUT cancer, in the chest/lungs, and in the bone. Which is good-but you know how sometimes you just hear selectively? He would have other symptoms going on if there was cancer somewhere, right? Unless the symptoms just aren't showing yet. (Yes, this is my mind, and yes, its' exhausting!)
   I am clearly a Gemini-two thoughts, usually opposing, going on at the same time. "OMG-its cancer somewhere", and, "Of Course it isn't Anything". And both, at the moment, are true in my mind. Why borrow trouble? Nothing is known, so we might as well think nothing but positive. And part of me is all over that. And the other part, equally divided in two, is saying "To throw up, or not to Throw Up......"

from 0-60 in less than 0-60

2010-12-13T21:08:00.003-05:00

   Chuck and I are supposed to be traveling around and having fun, yes? And we are! Driving, traveling, exploring, adventuring, loving, growing more IN love-and yet, how quickly the brakes can go on-a sharp halt that snaps you to attention, then a stomp down on the accelerator that takes you, mentally, from 0-60 in less time than you can imagine. That is where my mind is now-or is it my heart?
   So, here's the bottom line, which is where I start (much like how I always read a novel last page first to judge whether or not I like the ending, which will decide for me whether I read the book or not). Chuck arrived here from Oregon, sporting a large lump on the underside of his wrist. Over the last couple weeks, we've gone through the drill of getting MRI's, figuring that once the results were in, the dr would do surgery to remove it. Today, we went to his appt, thinking it would be a fairly quick office visit for it to be taken care of. I went well prepared with a book to read while I waited it out, but he came out after a very brief time, telling me the dr had been unable to do anything, and was sending him to Philly to have a consult, and have surgery there. It wasn't until we got in the car that he told me the bottom line, which is the point where my mind went from the aforementioned 0-60. Yes, it might be cancer. A giant cell tumor. He told me everything he could, and I genuinely attempted to listen and hear, but all I was focused on was that horrible word. Dear world, please excuse me for wanting to throw up at just hearing the word and not paying as much attention as I shoulda, coulda, and wished I woulda. In my world, people most often die from cancer. I wanted to throw up when he even said the word. We are going through the process of insurance, getting pre-certified, the whole nine yards, the stuff of life. Appointments will be made as quickly and as soon as possible. Nothing else matters.
   Should I take this moment to say thank god I'm a gemini? There is a part of me that is completely riddled with anxiety, leaping ahead (and as Chuck wryly said to me "already getting him cremated".) I want to throw up, I want to scream my fear. And, internally, that part is indeed screaming out against it all. Seriously, though, the last thing I need is for Chuck to be concerned about me at the moment (even though I know he is.) And he was very happy that I immediately called and texted my angel sisters here in NJ, my community. The person I was years ago wouldn't have done that, not wanting to impose my concerns on anyone else. But I will no longer go through things like this on my own, it is needless and unnecessary to do that. And it made him feel better for me, so it is a win-win.
   The other part of me is the part that is good in emergencies. Very calm, cool and collected. It will not assume the worst, and, even if it does end up being cancer, it is one, I'm sure, that can be removed, and it will be done with. That's how I explained it to Chuck, so that he would have an understanding when I every so often ping off the walls (as if he wouldn't already know, after so many years of marriage!)
   Life continues to happen, no matter how you are living your life. This is the "now" part-but there will also be an "after this" part. And I am tempted to wish this now time away, but it is also time with my beloved, and I am not going to spend the time waiting for appts and insurance in being doleful and figuratively wearing black. Now is all the more reason to seize our joys and grab at life in every way we can, as we have been doing for the past 19 months.
   In the meanwhile, any and all prayers, in whatever way you may happen to pray, are more than welcome. Chanting, lighting incense, kowtowing to whomever needs to be kowtowed to, all these are acceptable-

gratitude and Thanksgiving moments...

2010-11-25T09:44:00.001-05:00

What I have learned in these last 17 months of leaving, letting go, learning to open up, loving more than I have ever loved: life really is about the people. The people in my life, the people who make up my community, have been with me every step of the way, no matter how far away I go. Their love for me, mine for them, my connected-ness to them, is present as I am standing on high cliffs staring out at incredible vistas, climbing over rocks in a desert terrain, bouncing over uneven prairie grasses, gazing in awe at a piercingly blue western sky that goes on forever, weaving its' way to the far reaches of this country to the hearts of my loved family/friends. And this strong and lasting love is most present with the love of my life, my adventurous traveling companion who brings such beauty and romance to my life-my husband. Happy Thanksgiving to all those I love, to all those who love me!

These are the moments...

2010-11-19T20:44:00.004-05:00

Three weeks. Only three weeks. Wow, three weeks already! Each time I say it,it has a different connotation to it. It was three weeks ago that I got on a plane, trying to reach Rhoda before she died. Three weeks ago I said goodbye to my daughter. Said goodbye to my husband and got on a plane and tried to not think of what was in front of me. The flight from one coast to another took forever and ended in both sadness when I was told that Rhoda had died while I was enroute, and happiness when I was greeted by my angel sisters, who whisked me away to be immersed in the love of more angel sisters as we grieved together.

What was planned as a three week drive across country took five hours by plane. I spent three days and four nights with my angel sister Natalie and her family, who nurtured me and made me feel so welcome. Then I came to our temporary home, loaned to us by my angel sister Diana. Hours spent with angel sisters at dinners, for coffee, at the movies, hanging out time. The time, which had flown, slowed. Nightly phone calls with my husband as he drove from one state to another, making his way East. Sadness about Rhoda. Love from so many friends, his and mine. Anticipation of his arrival. And his arrival, finally, on the day that I would have arrived so that I could spend some time with Rhoda. It took him forever to arrive! God, I can’t believe Rhoda’s already been gone for three weeks-three weeks passed so quickly! Truly, what is time but the events of that time? And the exact same time seems to crawl or fly, dependent upon our perception of those events.

Three weeks has put time into perspective for me.

a bottom line moment-Grief Sucks!

2010-11-05T15:18:00.002-04:00

Grief is much on my mind at this moment, due to my dear friend Rhoda. I know I can't be the only one who wonders at why such horrible things happen to good people-she went through hell and hell, and back again, in dealing with the frickin' cancer, did terribly damaging treatments that almost killed her, only to be hit again with yet another cancer. And then I'll read something in the news about a serial murderer or a child molester who, yes, might have been in prison, but died peacefully instead of getting a painful death that was called for due to a life lived miserably and hurtfully to those around him. And a woman who was kind, and sweet and loving, died after being ravaged by everything that could be thrown at her. I'm really not alright with that, just in case god or the gods are wondering..
I've facilitated many grief support groups over the years, and what I know is that we can provide all sorts of education about the grief process, seek meaning in it, do all the stuff that you do so that you can get through it as whole as possible. But, you know what the bottom line of all of it is? Grief Sucks. And not only does it suck, it sucks the big one. Death is a part of life, I know that-it is our only way out of this world. Got it. But all the feelings that come with saying goodbye to someone you love are hard. And I am so sad that sweet Rhoda is not here on this earth with me any longer. She's okay now, I believe that. But, ultimately, grief isn't about the one who died-its about us, and, in this case, about me and how my world has changed. So selfish, yes? Don't care-I'm going to be selfish, and let this run through me, and know that I will find peace in my heart with it at some point. Right now, I'm not so okay, but I'm okay with that too. A process, oh, goody, I say to myself. And, even sorrowing, I am so very grateful that she was in my life for the time she was. You will always have a place in my heart, sweet angel sister...

a sacred moment

2010-11-04T17:34:00.003-04:00

My dear friend Rhoda was buried on Sunday. I attended her funeral, along with some of my angel sisters. The sun was bright, it was a little crisp temperature-wise, which always, as far as I'm concerned, makes it all a bit more bearable in such circumstances. Rhoda was Jewish, though non-practicing, and her service followed the beauty of their traditions. It was closed casket, so I didn't see "her" until we were at the cemetery. I stood with the others as the pallbearers lifted her coffin out of the hearse and set it on the gurney. It was shocking to me, and painful, to see-it was so very small and narrow. Cancer had done its' worst to her, and the feeding tube wasn't enough to keep her where she needed to be. There was little left to sustain her, and her poor body and her beleaguered heart, so grieved since her mom's death, just decided enough was enough. The Rabbi said a prayer as we all stood there, and then we were invited to follow behind her coffin as we made our way to her burial site. There was the deep hole for her coffin, with the pile of dirt beside it, and numerous shovels. I took note of them but didn't realize what they were for until later. Prayers were said, her coffin was lowered, and then, some of the mourners stepped up and started picking up the larger rocks, and dropping them carefully into the grave alongside her coffin. Shovels were lifted, dug into the pile, and then dropped over the grave. It took my friend Alisa stepping up to me to explain to me that, in the Jewish tradition, family/friends take turns shoveling the dirt over the coffin. It is our final gift to the one we love, that we perform this last service, rather than strangers. I could do that. It made me think back to my brother Kysa, when he died, and we went with him to be cremated. So I stepped up and took a shovel in hand, and, as I went to work, I spoke my farewells to Rhoda. I had been so fortunate to call on the previous Thursday, and her most wonderful friend, Alan, answered, and after we spoke, he put the phone to Rhoda's ear, and, though she was already unresponsive, I know she heard me speak my love to her, say goodbye and wish her godspeed. So, as I shoveled, I whispered a prayer to her, then stepped aside for another to take the shovel. When the services were over, I asked for my angel sisters to stand in a circle, along with her two friends who took such care of her, Alan and Cathy, and we put our hands on top of one another's, and thanked her for being a part of our lives, and prayed that she would walk in beauty (which I am so sure she is doing now).

Rest in peace, dearest Rhoda, and dance among the clouds...

seeing what is moments, no matter what...

2010-11-04T17:13:00.001-04:00

Here is what it has been like for me since arriving in NJ on Friday to the news that my dear friend Rhoda had died before I could see her. And here is why I am getting through this, even more filled with gratitude for my life.
I was picked up at the airport by Alisa, Charlene and Christina, 3 of my TOH daughters. They took me to an already planned evening, where I was surrounded by more daughters who helped me through the initial shock, and grieved with me. At the end of the evening, exhausted and numb, my friend Natalie, who had sat with Rhoda the previous day, took me home with her, and her family embraced me with their love, and I stayed with them for the first few days. Yesterday, Natalie drove me here where I am now and where I'll stay until Chuck arrives from across the country. We call it "Georgia's Place" and it belongs to one of our TOH daughters, (whom I call my angel sisters)-my friend Diana. It was her mom's condo and she graciously extends an invitation for us to stay here when we are in NJ. Since I arrived, I have been receiving texts, phone calls and emails from friends of my husband, offering their support, their love, a ride to wherever I need (I am without a car, of course!), offers of meals, coffee meets, hugs, whatever I need. They are reaching out, so many of them. In the midst of all these feelings of sadness, I am reminded again of the love that surrounds me in NJ, in my community. I feel that love, and, what is more, I feel the love of my husband, who is so very far away, because I know damned well he has been on the phone to everyone he knows here in this state that has such a bad rep, casually, or maybe not, letting them know that the woman he loves is here on her own, without a car, and grieving, and could they just check in on me...which makes it not at all less authentic, it makes it all that more endearing. I am loved, and I am blessed, and I am not alone, and I am aware of all these moments that make up my life, that are the most important moments of my life...

yes, life changes on a dime moments..

2010-11-04T16:53:00.002-04:00

The days since last Friday have passed in a blur. It has all been so cliche'd in so many ways, but then, death so often is, isn't it? Yes, backing up to explain...
My dear friend Rhoda died on Friday. She died while I was aboard a United Airlines flight, trying to get back to see her. I got the word on Thursday that she had taken a turn for the worse. My reaction was typical of someone presented with that information-do I try to get back to NJ to see her? Do I stay where I am? Making the decision a little less possible for me was the state of our life: we're traveling, we're due to leave OR the following Tuesday, should I stay or go? How could I possibly get ready on time? Would I stay in NJ after? If not, where would I return to? Chuck would have to drive across country on his own to meet me-that would take weeks. Clearly, my brain was all over the place. And, true to form, when I expressed these concerns to the man I love so much, he said to me "Do you want to be there? And the answer was "yes". Years ago when my brother and then my mom died, I had my husband and my kids, but I didn't have a community. Now, I have this huge community of daughters from TOH, and how could I NOT be there amongst them? So, minutes later he had bought me a ticket, and early the next morning I was soaring first to San Francisco, then to Philly. Flying, especially since 9/11, makes me anxious. I call it being prepared with forward thinking-you can call it what you like, but I spent the whole time from SF to PH eyeballing anyone who might be a possible terrorist, and figuring strategy for defeating them, a la' flight 93. The percentage of the time I wasn't doing that, I was searching out built specimans for fighting back (thank you, muscly guy 4 rows up!), or, contrarily, doing some preemptive worrying for Chuck driving across country on his own. Yes, he is a totally grown man, he is a good driver, he has all the attributes for driving across country on his own, except me. So, I was pretty busy as you can see, and I guess that was a good thing. It took forever, as such emotionally laden things are bound to do. We had no sooner landed than I texted my friend Natalie, who I expected would be at Rhoda's. So well do I remember standing at my seat, the plane still coasting into the gate. And my phone rang. It was Natalie, and the first thing I said was "what's wrong?", and Natalie had to be the one to tell me that Rhoda had died that morning at 10. It is all still too new for me to write those words and not feel sick. There is that daze that you can, thankfully, go into when you hear such words, and that daze got me off the plane, to baggage claim, and out to the curb, where, moments later, 3 of my other friends, daughters from TOH, pulled up to the curb, with hugs for me. And they delivered me to the best place I could be for the evening-an already planned gathering of daughters who immersed me in their love, and laughter, and shared sorrow. My community-they are my go-to sisters, and I was right where I needed to be.

a changing my thinking moment...

2010-10-22T21:31:00.004-04:00

I can't nail this down to one moment, or one event, that happened. But what I realized today, while I was out virtuously exercise walking, was that I have changed ALOT in these past almost 17 months of being out on the road. Now, these changes might well have happened even had we stayed in NJ. Some changes obviously would have happened, because that is what growing and maturing entails. But I do believe that some of that has come about because of the life we're leading. We're not leading the ordinary life anymore, and that has led me to open up in so many ways. I am seeing that there are so many "ways" imposed on us (the royal us as in human us) socially, not for any particular reason, that I can see at least. So those "ways" are being shed, and I'm thinking, why the hell did I ever impose that on myself? I'm thinking more about pretty much everything I've ever known, and then saying, "does that work for me? and WHY do I think that way? Is it an actual belief of mine, from my heart, or is it something that is socially imposed?" Am I becoming a hippie? A revolutionary? a misfit? (can't see that ever happening, though maybe some of my thinking is already out there (more on that later)....
Shedding old thinking is much easier than shedding pounds, but I do feel lighter, as if even the old thoughts were making me heavier. And I'm only this long into our new life-who knows where I'll be by the time we finish this wandering? Stay tuned, I can feel some new thinking brewing in my brain as I write...

contemplating moment...

2010-10-22T20:54:00.003-04:00

  Honestly, the toughest part of leaving NJ, packing up lock, stock and barrel, was leaving Tapestries of Hope, the very heart of my daily life. I loved the interaction with all the daughters who had joined us, and speaking constantly to new daughters who wanted to join one of our groups. Planning monthly meetings, checking in with everyone, providing bereavement support on the phone, brainstorming creative ideas for groups, doing the admin part of it (which I never really cared for, if I'm being totally honest here!) It filled my days and many of my evenings. So, stepping down from all of that gave me a bit of a ripping sensation in my heart, in many ways....
  Well, I'm here to tell you now, I am just as busy with the doings of TOH as I've ever been! And, the longer I'm gone, the busier I seem to get (and there are no complaints here with that). This has all been not just a letting go, but opening up. Officially my position is "outreach/support", though I've never really defined what that means, other than the obvious. I am open to wherever that takes me-the only thing I DO know about it is that I want to always be in contact, one way or another, with both the daughters of TOH back East, and the daughters who have joined us through our website or fb page. And, lo and behold, has it all opened up! I spend so much time on the phone, talking to daughters, emailing, and providing direction to our groups, etc, coming up with new ideas (that will never stop, I'm sure!), providing support to our new Prez, Alisa, and our VP, Charlene-who knew it would grow this way with me?
  Here's what has been so astounding to me-I was, for so long, afraid of the computer, but, at this point, you'd never know it. This traveling life has been wonderful for the ways it pushed me and my most amazing husband-we fairly LEAPED into the 21st century by finally getting cell phones, we each have a laptop, I learned to text, I have a personal fb page and a TOH page to administer, the TOH website....and oh, the things I have learned from doing that! No fear here anymore! Though I can tell you that, when I do something wrong, and I ask for Chuck's help, and he asks what I did, I don't really have the language to tell him so I generally say, well, I just started clicking buttons, and hope he can figure it out. Fortunately, no huge disasters yet with anything, for which, believe me, I am eternally grateful!!
  So, here is my life lesson that I am happy to pass along to all of you wonderful readers of my blog here (and I know you will appreciate this, right?)--letting go can be hard to do, but if you let go AND open up, there is NO telling what lovely things can happen, and I continue to find that out. I have so many daughters now that I am in contact with in so many ways, and, had I stayed in NJ, doing what I was doing, I don't know that it would have ever gotten to this point. I love it! I am fully immersed in my new life, and living a new adventure everyday, feeding my heart in all the ways it needs through continuing to live my passion of supporting bereaved daughters, from, well, EVERYWHERE, in this country. Life, I LOVE you!!

a state of amazement moment...

2010-10-20T22:40:00.003-04:00

The man I love and I have been on the road for 16 months now. I stopped to think about that the other day. Sometimes my mind goes to what I'm missing (home-made meals, my network of friends, more pink around me), but then I stop and think, my god, look what I've gained! We were with our daughter and her in-laws when we first got here to Medford OR, and catching them up on our travels. After awhile, I suddenly thought to myself "good god, the stories we have to tell at this point!" (not, mind you, that everyone necessarily wants to HEAR those stories!) The thing is, I have so many stories in me at this point already, after this time, of all the places we have seen, what we have learned, what we KNOW now, that I didn't know before. My brain is practically over-FLOWING with stories! When I'm on the phone with friends and family, and get the question "Where are you?", it pretty much takes me some time, especially if we've been on the road daily, to figure out not only what STATE we're in, but what town we're in, the time zone, etc. That's not unexpected, I'm sure-after awhile, THOSE details can get jumbled. What I can ALWAYS tell anyone, and what I mention to my most loved husband frequently, as we stand at some National Park, looking out over some incredible vista, is that mostly I'm in the state of Amazement. Chuck is one of those people who thrives on number tracking and organization (definitely NOT my strong suit!), and actually compiled our last 16 months: we have, during the last 16 months and 8 days, traveled in 45 states; stayed at 81 hotels, inns, b&b's, or extended stay residences, 16 military facilities, and 7 private homes; and taken 14,766 pictures. How can I NOT be in a state of Amazement with that? How many other people are able to do this? Yes, there are many people who DREAM of doing this, or would like to do this when they think of it, but, for many reasons, just don't. And we are-how incredible is that?! It does take a certain kind of mind-set, absolutely. You have to be okay with not having a lot of possessions around you-check. Living simply is good-less to worry about. You have to be okay with not having a home-port-check. I have learned to be at home wherever I am. Now, having said that, I might NOT be so okay if I didn't have all this technology to keep me in touch with everyone. I can't imagine what it must have been like for the pioneers way back: when they left in their wagon trains, that was pretty much it, especially early on before there was mail. Honestly, between my blog, facebook (2 of them), cell phones, skype, texting, you name it-we are hardly ever out of touch with someone we love, and that works for me! Because at the same time, we're out here exploring this country, and having adventures, and building our marriage even stronger-what's not to love about this, I ask you!!

a falling in love again moment

2010-10-01T14:48:00.001-04:00

We were headed from North Bend, OR to visit our daughter Rachael-Grace, in Medford. Because we just wanted to get to where we were going, and the weather was overcast, we took Route 5, major highway, but today the destination was the point, not so much the "journey". One of the benefits of highway travel is rest areas, and we found one where we could grab some lunch from our cooler, and stretch our legs. Let me break here to tell you that one of the unfortunate sights we've seen as we've traveled this country, are main street signs of the recession and hard times that people are experiencing. More than once, we've seen people along the road holding signs asking for help-out of work, out of a job, out of food, out of hope. Its' disconcerting in every way-and completely upsetting to me. How can we be in such a place that this has happened? My heart goes out to each one, but I am also cynical enough to wonder if these people truly are in dire circumstances or is it a scam? I'd love to err always on the side of always giving, but we'd be broke if I did that.
So, in any case, we stopped at this rest area, and I headed to the restroom for a pit stop. Sitting near that building, and unavoidable to see, was a man on a chair, holding a sign that was asking for help-for a job or for food. He had kids, had lost his job, just needed help. I don't know about you, but I always find these situations awkward, so I smiled at him, but passed right on by. My intention was, when I got back to the car, to talk to Chuck about him and get his feedback. (I consider Chuck to be much more discerning about these things than I am-his military background perhaps? I don't know, but I trust his instincts). Well, got back to the car, and Chuck took off to also, as my mom would have said, "make use of the facilities". I was going to take over the driving for the next part of our trip, so I began arranging the seat, steering wheel, etc. Few minutes passed, and I realized that Chuck was taking an awfully long time. So I look up, and there he is, standing near this gentleman I had seen, and it looked like he was settling in for a long discussion with him-hands in pockets, relaxed posture...and I watched him as he spoke with this man. This man I love was THE only person that I saw actually stop and be interested in this man's story (and I include myself there). Yes, I know that he was sounding out his authenticity-that makes sense. And whether he gave him money or not (he did) wasn't the most important thing. He stopped and listened-that is when I found myself falling in love with my husband all over again. He cared enough to do this, and I respected him for that. It was a lesson for me. When he eventually got back to the car, yes, the man had a story-his wife was disabled, they had 4 kids, he had lost his job, he didn't want a handout-he just wanted a leg up for the day. The first thing I asked Chuck was "how did you start the conversation?" (I figured it must be something deep and difficult, I guess). And Chuck told me he just asked "So how's your day going?" and it took off from there. I was reminded of my favorite quote from the play, Death of a Salesman, where Dustin Hoffman says of Willie "Attention must be paid." And so it is, and so I will remember from now on-each person has a story, and attention must be paid-how long does it take, really? And my much loved husband recognizes that in everyone, and I fell in love with him again on Route 5 for that very reason....

grasshoppers in the car moments...

2010-09-08T14:16:00.003-04:00

As we've traveled through this part of the country, I have been-well, I was going to say amazed-but I'll say grossed out, by the numbers of grasshoppers that appear to be EVERYWHERE! Our first experience with these plagues of the Bible pests, was when we were driving to the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. We wanted to visit the Wounded Knee monument there, and pay our respects to yet another White man fiasco. The weather was exceptional-stunning blue skies, very warm-perfect for me, though I know my erstwhile traveling companion and husband isn't as enthusiastic about the searing temps as I tend to be. But because he is very forbearing, I had the windows open and the sunroof wide open to the skies above. Is there anything better than open skies, open country, complete freedom of the road because there are no pesky, irritating, bad drivers to deal with? (dangling participle there, I think). Once again, we were off the beaten path, sticking to back roads, and we had our destination in the GPS, more or less. As anyone knows who has employed those oft time evil directionals, they will frequently lead you to places that put you on the edge of nowhere-and we were already on the edge of nowhere, which will be another blog (!) I cannot tell you how bleak the landscape is, once you get onto the Reservation. There is a peculiar beauty to the landscape itself, but when you realize that people actually LIVE there, its another whole story. And what did "BIA" mean on the many signs we were seeing? Drive some more, get nowhere near where we thought we were supposed to be-and turn off on a road that looked vaguely promising in that it would take us in what was at least the proper direction. When I say "road" I mean one lane, kind of paved. Drive some more, and the GPS says turn, and after some discussion, we turned to the left, and it led us to a dirt road. Hmmm....ok, nowhere else TO go from there, so we hit the dirt road. Keep in mind that at this point, we had been on the road since morning, it was late, it was really, REALLY, hot, and we were ready to be NOT driving anymore! And the road turned into a-yep, its a PATH, IN the prairie grass, that is nothing but tracks basically-but there was no turn around at that spot, so, with my heart thumping, we drove onto it. And before you could even grasp what was happening, grasshoppers were EVERYWHERE (as stated earlier!). But they weren't everywhere OUTSIDE, they were everywhere INSIDE-the car that is. As our trusty Ford bumped its' way through the grasses, it disturbed the grasshoppers, who immediately started leaping INTO the car through the windows, and through the sunroof. Birds, who were feeding on the grasshoppers, swooped back and forth in front of our car, the car was bumping over ruts, and-more and more grasshoppers. It took a moment to realize what exactly was happening, and then we frantically started pushing buttons to raise the windows and close the sunroof. By this time we were also trying to swat the grasshoppers who were landing on US, and throw them out of the car (which meant we needed to open the windows). Impossible situation in every way, clearly-and it didn't just end when we got to a road, oh no! Yes, that road took us somewhere-right to the entrance to a ranch. We were able to tell it was a ranch, and private property, only because it had a fairly grand entrance-the kind you see in the movies, with two primitive logs supporting the crossbeam, with the skull of some long dead cow or bison or something centered on it. And I have to tell you-its' different out here-people carry guns with enthusiasm, and will protect their property (another blog!), and how were we to know that some cowboy type wouldn't come out shooting at trespassers? We were able to turn the car around (while continuing to dispose of aforementioned ghs, but one more thing about signs and roads in this part of the back of beyond; you can drive for miles on what you think is a road, having seen no sign indicating otherwise, only to find out at the end that it is a private road leading to someone's home. So, we still had QUITE a drive to get back to the dirt road, which led us to the small kind of paved road, which ultimately led us to a more major road. When we got to our lodging that night, and lifted the hood of the engine, it was covered with grasshopper parts, hundreds of them. Same, same for the grill of the car. I don't know how many of them we decimated that day, driving through the prairie grasses of South Dakota, but I had confidence that there were another million more still hidden in the grasses. And for days afterwards, when we opened the car door, there would be 3 or 4 of the little buggers just waiting to be freed from their confines, and they would hop on out. A long day, that one....but a lesson learned about what I consider wildlife...

A Texas Hill Country moment..

2010-08-17T13:49:00.000-04:00

   While at the post exchange-well, that was where God first winked at me! Last year I read a great book called "The Unlikely Lavender Queen" by Jeannie Ralston. It was a memoir detailing the author's move to TX a few years back, and her evolution into becoming a lavender farmer in the hill country. I loved the book and determined that when we were out in that part of the country, I wanted to stop at her farm and see all that beautiful lavender. I also knew there was a lavender festival but wasn't sure when. I planned on looking it up online last nite when we arrived at the hotel. So....I ended up speaking with a woman who worked at the PX, and she suggested we bypass the main route to San Antonio and take a lesser road, avoiding Friday PM rush hour. What I didn't realize along the way was that we were entering hill country--the land was rolling a bit more, scrub pine, a stiff breeze blowing and cooling it off JUST a little from the 102 degrees! We drove along-by this time I had donned my straw cowboy hat for cover-very necessary out here! And here we come into this little town called Blanco, and I immediately noticed that there were purple flags all over, and lavender bunting--we had rolled RIGHT INTO lavender country, and this was the ANNUAL lavender festival! I pretty much burned up the brakes with stopping and found a parking spot and took off--tents everywhere, selling everything lavender. AND here is the second wink--the first tent I walked into was from Hill Country Lavender--the memoir farm! Just imagine yourself for a moment, standing in 102 degree heat, but SURROUNDED by the heavenly scent of lavender--lotions, soaps, shampoos, essential oils, eye pillows...you name it! I felt IMMEDIATELY relaxed! (well,almost!). In speaking with one of the young women tending the tent, I offered that I had recently arrived from NJ and was winding my way through the country, and Texas was top of my llist. AND do you know what her first question was? "What exit?" she asked, and thereby identified herself as a native of some sort! I told her exit 5, and she laughed and said she was from exit 13. By such means do wayward NJ travelers recognize each other! She moved out here 5 years ago, and highly recommended it to me. I spent maybe an hour just browsing through the scented tents-ahhhh.....breathe... ..
   So, here I am now, and I've already told TMIL that if San Angelo checks out, I'm willing to up and move here! The people are friendly--and they really do say "y'all come back now, hear?" when you say goodbye, I like the weather (in spite of the heat), I like the history, I like the lavender--its right at the top of the list! So, someday I maybe writing y'all regularly from the hill country of Texas, as a native. There are so many possibilities-
   I'm tanned, feeling relaxed, enjoying the time with TMIL, life is good--and I'm so glad we decided to start thinking outside the box those many months ago when things went south with his job. A true story of one door closing and a myriad of windows opening! My lesson here is to not operate from fear, and think outside the parameters-great things can happen as a result...

A New Jersey with daughters moment...

2010-05-08T18:55:00.003-04:00

   Hi all you beautiful people out there!
While the energy is still pumping, I want to tell you about one of my peeps communities right in south Jersey, which is so NOT to be compared to North Jersey and the turnpike, by the by...
   As you can see if you've read "about me" (and who wouldn't want to read "about me" and find out what I'm about?) I ran a non-profit called Tapestries of Hope for many years. We offer support to adult daughters who have gone through the loss of their mom's/mother figures, which is to say, their moms have died. (I hate it when people use all those terms that skirt around the subject: passed away, gone away, etc...) Anyone who has gone through that devastating grief knows that it can change your life forever. So, plain and simple, TOH offers support and education, and a community of daughters, to assist other daughters through that. Well, we have been so successful since our inception, because we are definitely meeting a need, and that success shows up in large crowds on the day we present "Our Moms, Our Memories" which is always the Sunday preceding Mother's day. This was our 5th event of this type, and all I can tell you is that the energy that is present among our guests could, and does, light up a room!
   This year was the best year, and yes, I do say that about each year that we do this-there are incredible moments every year, but the MOST incredible moment is spent in just observing. At many points, during the program, I would stand quietly to the side, and watch--as daughters who had never met each other, connected with each other, or see them eagerly eyeing the slideshow in the front, waiting for their mom's pictures to be displayed, (and see them lay a hand on the arm of a daughter who was brought to tears on seeing her mom's picture). My joy was in watching as one of our daughters sang a song in tribute, her voice shaking at one point, and seeing her sister step to her side in support. Another daughter stood to read a poem about what we learn, after our mom's death, as we search through her purse--all the intangibles that mom left behind. All of us there, we are all ordinary women with many roles to fill-we are raising families as we grieve, we are keeping jobs, we are living life in all the ways necessary, while trying to figure out this "new normal" following our mom's death. We are questioning ourselves, wondering if we are doing this grief thing "right" (as if such a term exists!). We are crying, grieving, feeling emotions that cover all the words from A-Z....
   And then, if we are fortunate, we find other daughters who have stood where we are now standing, and we open our hurting souls them, and we find out we aren't alone. There are many out here who are grieving--who knew? We join a support group, we attend the monthly drop-ins, we make friends borne of grief, but nurtured in healing, and, yes, we attend this event, and see that there are an AWFUL lot of daughters standing there with us. We knew intellectually that we weren't alone, but it sure felt like it....
   I wish I could convey to you what it is like for me to be there at Our Moms, Our Memories. I'm there to remember my own mom, Betty Catharine, but I'm there, too, to re-connect with all of the women who are part of my history now. Many of these women were in my groups from years ago, and have traveled with me through the years, eventually landing with me at Tapestries of Hope. We have supported one another throughout so much, not just our mom's deaths. These daughters are there to hold out th   eir hand to anewly bereaved daughter, to show, through their own lives, that it is possible to build that "new normal", to find joy again. There were tears on that Sunday-the grief will always be there in some form, but there was so much laughter too-a true reflection of our groups!
   A final thought on that day: no matter how many miles I travel in this new life, THAT day will always be marked on my calendar for being in NJ, joining with these daughters who travel with me in my heart. I did a closing meditation that day-all the daughters joined in a circle, and, one by one, we went around and spoke our name, and then said, and I am the daughter of-and said our mom's name. We are still daughters, we always will be, and our mom's names are still spoken by us.
   As I closed that day, so I will here: may you find peace, may you find hope, may you be blessed,
Alison,
daughter of Betty Catharine

An answering questions moment...

2010-04-27T14:03:00.011-04:00

   Well, here it is, folks....this is my new life, explained--I have had so many people ask me lately about this new life of mine: what is it like? Where do we stay? How do we decide where we go next? No end to the questions,so I thought I would give you the low down on this nomad existence...
TMIL and I are traveling, not in an RV (no Robin Williams adventures for me!), not with a trailer (think Lucille Ball in the "Long, Long Trailer") but in our Saturn SUV. I made some sheepskin armrests because it got annoying for me to rest my arms on the hard shell), and we have maps handy, our GPS, camera, phone--all the technology is at my fingertips!
   We have learned to travel lightly, at least lightly compared to what we COULD have. I suppose it doesn't look light when we truck everything into our hotel room, but we ARE living out of our car! We aren't the typical traveler, just doing a couple of nights and then back home again. I'm happy to say we have gotten it down to pretty much a science at this point. TMIL is always telling me to let him carry things in, but I don't listen terribly well sometimes, so I'll load myself up with the light stuff for the first trip in--camera bag, pink makeup bag (I save him the embarrassment of carrying that in), pillows in pink pillowcases (raspberry pink-and you KNOW how hard it is to find a good pillow, so we make space for our own). Inside the pillowcase, I stuff the Atlas, any current newspapers, calender for tracking travels, and anything else light) my backpack, one of the computer bags, his shoulder bag-and by this time I'm staggering under the weight of it all!
   Second trip is up to TMIL-he gets everything out of our back seat--my pink suitcase, his case, our toiletries bag, the other computer bag, the cooler, the food suitcase (it also carries our handy-dandy hobo tool (spoon, knife, fork, can opener all in one that is THE best investment we made for this trip!) and our smaller, water only cooler. While he totes, I organize in the hotel room. Check, check, check--it takes no time at all anymore!
   The very back of our car is now called the closet. Back there we keep any extra clothes we may need as we travel, cooler weather gear for when we get to New England, tools in case the car breaks down, a bag of reading material for me, extra shoes, the popcorn popper (kind of gives us a Clampett type of feeling when we truck THAT into the hotel!), and a bag with medical emergency materials, all sitting on top of our egg carton bed liner that we use when visiting family so we don't have to sleep directly on the floor! All that pretty much fills up the back but I actually know where everything is....
   We've been staying with family and friends along the way, and in hotels. TMIL has quite a few friends from his time in the Air Force, and they are scattered around the country, so we stop and see them or we head to OR to visit our younger daughter, or VT to visit our older daughter, or AZ to visit our son, or NH to visit our other son. I actually prefer NOT visiting family, but that's my own particular preference (by that I mean family of origin) As I used to say in the groups, the meeting for family dynamics is down the hall! Both of us are history buffs, WW2, the Civil War, western settlement, so we are the weird ones who stop along a road to examine wagon tracks left by the settlers of the 1800's--can you spell G-E-E-K?
   Its been an adventure. We've stayed at military bases where we can-you can always count on clean, professional surroundings, and I've listened many nights to the sounds of "Retreat" on the bugle, and "Reveille" in the mornings. I've seen the western coast of OR and WA states, seen incredible rock formations in UT, wind farms that extend for mile upon mile in NM, lavender farms in the hill country of TX--the list is endless. This has all been a fascinating lesson in letting go for me. I was never materially minded, and even less so after experiencing the deaths of my mom and brother, but this has been a real lesson in living simply. We have things in storage-its mainly personal family stuff at this point. We sold most of our furniture when we sold our house last May, and when we stopped at our storage unit a few months ago, we got rid of the rest of it. There are some things that I remember we have stored, but much of it I don't, and doesn't that say something? I know that when we go there again, we will rid ourselves of even more. We will donate it, or pass it along to someone in the family. I have learned a great deal about letting go of hurtful relationships, and being ok with it. My life is very much about seizing the moment, about LIVING in the moment, and making it count. I thought I would miss my gardens-there were so many joyful hours spent in them, but I miss them not at all. There are gardens everywhere in this country for me to enjoy--and I DON"T HAVE TO WEED THEM!
   Especially when I see pictures posted of various events for Tapestries of Hope, and all my angel sisters--that's when there is a ping in my heart! I do miss my community. Really, though, when I think of it, it is only the physically not seeing any of you that is different--other than that, I am in such regular contact with all of you that there is no time TO miss you-phone, text, email, fb, our website--thank goodness for technology! I miss not knowing all the daughters who have joined our groups since I left, but I have managed to make connections even with some of them, and I love that. AND, a huge shout out to all of you who call to tell me about the get-togethers, and how much you cherish the connections you make with each other--it does my heart good to know that the threads are continuing to weave in and out, forming yet another section of the tapestry.
   TMIL and I have pretty much decided that we are going to continue doing this life as long as our health and our money hold up. Hopefully that will be for years yet! We have no desire to own a house again, with all the inherent responsibilities that go along with it. There is a HUGE country out here to see, and we intend to see as much of it as possible. The thing is, you really don't need a whole lot of money to do this. We're not wealthy by any means, we have learned to live very simply, and I am learning to think outside ALL my comfort zones, challenging myself to meet new people, venture out to see what this world is made of....it is a fantastic adventure, I am young enough to grab every second of it, and I am doing it all with a man who loves me more than his own life. Can it get any better than this?
   So, this life, these moments that make my new life, have been some of the best parts of my life. And the beauty of all of it is that I have been able to carry the important parts of my old life with me-my cherished angel sisters, who have loved and supported ME as much as I have loved and supported THEM--it is a beautiful tapestry of life that I have!
Blessings,
Alison,
daughter of Betty Catharine

A Scattering my brother moment...

2010-03-14T21:08:00.003-04:00

   I was raised in a military family, one of eight kids. My rating in the family (numerically, not emotionally!) was 4th from the top, or the youngest of the oldest 4. Right below me was my brother Kysa (though he was named Chuck at the time-he later changed his name) (as did I, but that's another blog!). Some of my sibs were born overseas, some born here in the good old US of A. I was born in Texas, and, shortly afterwards, my parents were sent to Alabama, to Redstone Arsenal, in Alabama, which is where Kysa was born.
   In this traveling that TMIL and I have done, we went to my birthplace of Ft Hood, Texas, and lately, we finally made it to Redstone Arsenal. I sought it out with intent. Along with me, on this part of the trip, I was carrying my brother's cremains.
   Its been a long journey for me with this. Kysa died in January 1996, of Hodgkins cancer. I was with him in his last week, and with him when he died, and what I experienced with him changed my life forever. It started me on my hospice path, giving support first as a volunteer, to those who were dying, and then in bereavement support, where I started many groups, and assisted family members through the painful process. So, yes, a long road, but oh, how much I've learned!

So now, in the chill weather of January, TMIL and I drove through the base at Redstone, and I looked around and wondered at all that must have changed since my dad had been stationed there. The only idea I had for scattering Kysa was that I wanted it to be in a bit of an isolated spot, and I wanted a "nature-y" spot. I'd prepared myself with 2 yellow carnations as a gift to my brother, one from me, one from TMIL. It didn't take us long to find a small park, covered in trees, and I knew it would be as perfect a place as I could find for him.
I'd given some thought to Kysa's connection to this place. Like me, he was very young when he left Huntsville (and by young, I mean, waaayyy young, as in...baby!), and so I knew he himself wouldn't have had an emotional connection to his birthplace. There was none for me there, either. What inspired me to do this was maybe more a way of completing the cycle. Redstone is where Kysa entered this world, and that is what had meaning for me.
I'll let these pictures describe how it was for me, scattering Kysa's cremains that day-another letting go....

I didn't scatter all of his cremains-there are some still in the little leather bag that he made for me years ago. At some point soon, as we continue along our way, we'll stop again at the Sand Dunes outside of Crestone, CO-the place Kysa loved, where he said his wedding vows shortly before becoming ill, the place where he ran, and leaped, and danced. There, I'll leave the remainder of my brother, with a blessing, a thank you to him for so enriching my life, in ways so unexpected, and with a fullness in my heart that will linger always.....
Kysa's sister

my new life moment...

2010-03-06T18:30:00.008-05:00

Well, here it is, folks! This is my new life, explained--

I have had so many people ask me lately about this new life of mine: what is it like? Where do we stay? How do we decide where we go next? No end to the questions,so I thought I would give you the low down on this nomad existence...

TMIL and I are traveling, not in an RV (no Robin Williams adventures for me!), not with a trailer (think Lucille Ball in the "Long, Long Trailer") but in our Saturn SUV. I made some sheepskin armrests because it got annoying for me

to rest my arms on the hard shell), and we have maps handy,our GPS, camera, phone--all the technology is at my fingertips!

We have learned to travel lightly, at least lightly compared to what we COULD have. I suppose it doesn't look light when we truck everything into our hotel room, but we ARE living out of our car! We aren't the typical traveler, just doing a couple of nights and then back home again. I'm happy to say we have gotten it down to pretty much a science at this point. TMIL is always telling me to let him carry things in, but I don't listen terribly well sometimes, so I'll load myself up with the light stuff for the first trip in--camera bag, pink makeup bag (I save him the embarrassment of carrying that in), pillows in pink pillowcases (raspberry pink-and you KNOW how hard it is to find a good pillow, so we make space for our own). Inside the pillowcase, I stuff the Atlas, any current newspapers, calender for tracking travels, and anything else light) my backpack, one of the computer bags, his shoulder bag-and by this time I'm staggering under the weight of it all!

Second trip is up to TMIL-he gets everything out of our backseat--my pink suitcase, his case, our toiletries bag, the other computer bag, the cooler, the food suitcase (it also carries our handy-dandy hobo tool (spoon, knife, fork, can opener all in one that is THE best investment we made for this trip!) and our smaller, water only cooler. While he totes, I organize in the hotel room. Check, check, check--it takes no time at all anymore!

The very back of our car is now called the closet. Back there we keep any extra clothes we may need as we travel, cooler weather gear for when we get to New England, tools in case the car breaks down, a bag of reading material for me, extra shoes, the popcorn popper (kind of gives us a Clampett type of feeling when we truck THAT into the hotel!), and a bag with medical emergency materials, all sitting on top of our egg carton bed liner that we use when visiting family so we don't have to sleep directly on the floor! All that pretty much fills up the back but I actually know where everything is....

We've been staying with family and friends along the way, and in hotels. TMIL has quite a few friends from his time in the AirForce, and they are scattered around the country, so we stop and see them or we head to OR to visit our younger daughter, or VT to visit our older daughter, or AZ to visit our son, or NH to visit our other son. I actually prefer NOT visiting family, but that's my own particular preference (by that I mean family of origin) As I used to say in the groups, the meeting for family dynamics is down the hall! Both of us are history buffs, WW2, the Civil War, western settlement, so we are the weird ones who stop along a road to examine wagon tracks left by the settlers of the 1800's--can you spell G-E-E-K?

Its been an adventure. We've stayed at military bases where we can-you can always count on clean, professional surroundings, and I've listened many nights to the sounds of "Retreat" on the bugle, and "Reveille" in the mornings. I've seen the western coast of OR and WA states, seen incredible rock formations in UT, wind farms that extend for mile upon mile in NM, lavender farms in the hill country of TX--the list is endless. This has all been a fascinating lesson in letting go for me. I was never materially minded, and even less so after experiencing the deaths of my mom and brother, but this has been a real lesson in living simply. We have things in storage-its mainly personal family stuff at this point. We sold most of our furniture when we sold our house last May, and when we stopped at our storage unit a few months ago,we got rid of the rest of it. There are some things that I remember we have stored, but much of it I don't, and doesn't that say something? I know that when we go there again, we will rid ourselves of even more. We will donate it, or pass it along to someone in the family. I have learned a great deal about letting go of hurtful relationships, and being ok with it. My life is very much about seizing the moment, about LIVING in the moment, and making it count. I thought I would miss my gardens-there were so many joyful hours spent in them, but I miss them not at all. There are gardens everywhere in this country for me to enjoy--and I DON"T HAVE TO WEED THEM!

Especially when I see pictures posted of various events for Tapestries of Hope, and all my angel sisters--that's when there is a ping in my heart! I do miss my community. Really, though, when I think of it, it is only the physically not seeing any of you that is different--other than that, I am in such regular contact with all of you that there is no time TO miss you-phone, text, email, fb, our website--thank goodness for technology! I miss not knowing all the daughters who have joined our groups since I left, but I have managed to make connections even with some of them, and I love that. AND, a huge shout out to all of you who call to tell me about the get-togethers, and how much you cherish the connections you make with each other--it does my heart good to know that the threads are continuing to weavein and out, forming yet another section of the tapestry.

TMIL and I have pretty much decided that we are going to continue doing this life as long as our health and our money hold up. Hopefully that will be for years yet! We have no desire to own a house again, with all the inherent responsibilities that go along with it. There is a HUGE country out here to see, and we intend to see as much of it as possible. The thing is, you really don't need a whole lot of money to do this. We're not wealthy by any means, we have learned to live very simply, and I am learning to think outside ALL my comfort zones, challenging myself to meet new people, venture out to see what this world is made of....it is a fantastic adventure, I am young enough to grab every second of it, and I am doing it all with a man who loves me more than his own life. Can it get any better than this?

So, this life, these moments that make my new life, have been some of the best parts of my life. And the beauty of all of it is that I have been able to carry the important parts of my old life with me-my cherished angel sisters, who have loved and supported ME as much as I have loved and supported THEM--it is a beautiful tapestry of life that I have!

Blessings,

Alison,

daughter of Betty Catharine

Truth or Dare....

2010-02-14T19:05:00.007-05:00

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth?
   one m&m (it was pink, and how virtuous of me to have only one!)
2. Where was your profile picture taken?
   at an absolutely great restaurant in Florida, near one of the AFB, the name of which I can't remember--what the fuck was the name of that place? Sorry, no can remember...
3. Can you play Guitar Hero?
not even sure what it is....
4. Name someone who made you laugh today?
my best friend Donna
5. How late did you stay up last night and why?
   somewhere around 11? sharing memories with my husband...
6. If you could move somewhere else, would you?
   have you CHECKED my fb page? All I do is move somewhere else constantly!
7. Ever been kissed under fireworks?
   only by my much loved husband!
8. Which of your friends lives closest to you?
   they all live close to me depending where I happen to be at the moment...
9. Do you believe ex's can be friends?
   I believe most everyone wishes that was so, but if it was so great, why get a divorce in the first place?
10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper?
   and the lonely hearts club band?
11. When was the last time you cried really?
   when I scattered my brother's cremains a month ago
12. Who took your profile picture?
   our friend Amanda
13. Who was the last person you took a picture of?
   my heart daughter Dena--pregnant with her first child!
14. Was yesterday better than today?
   my life gets better and better every minute-
15. Can you live a day without TV?
   uh, yeah, so much!
16. Are you upset about anything?
   no way, no how--I love my life!
17. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?
   once again, just check out my "status" on fb for the last month....
18. Are you a bad influence?
   nah, not in a serious way, tho I do tend to have the mouth of a sailor on shore leave, and need to clean it up whenever I'm around old people, young people, and god-people...sigh...
19. Night out or night in?
   pretty much a night in person, especially in cold weather.
20. What items could you not go without during the day?
   my husband (do I sound obsessed?)
21. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?
   my husband's dad, tho that was technically in the nursing home
22. What does the last text message in your inbox say?
   that there is an "I Love Lucy" TV marathon tomorrow
23. How do you feel about your life right now?
   In love with life, in love with love!
24. Do you hate anyone?
   the anti-christ and his two bitches
25. If we were to look in your facebook in box, what would we find? dinner plans
26. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?
   unless you count chocolate and diet pepsi as a drug, and there are those nuts who do, then I'm clean...
27. Has anyone ever called you perfect before?
   perfect for the person who called me perfect....but, generally, I'd rather do without all that pressure...
28. What song is stuck in your head?
   "sitting on the top of the world" which is an idiot song, but as soon as I tried to zone in on what song was in my head, that popped in. Its going to be a long nite...
29. Someone knocks on your window at 2:00 a.m., who do you want it to be?
   godalmighty, someone knocks on my window at ANYTIME of the night OR day, I'm hiding under the bed with my cell phone! Have you NOT seen the movies where someone checks out odd stuff like that, and they get KILLED?
30.Wanna have grandkids by the time you're 50?
   already do-too late!
31. Name something you have to do tomorrow
   I'm retired so all I have to do is sleep as late as I want, and then hit the stores for Valentine day sales (think chocolate), and thinking of starting my travel blog (Happily Homeless)
32. Do you think too much or too little?
   my brain has been described as a video on a loop-
33. Do you smile a lot?
   I smile constantly, I laugh alot--life is too serious to be taken too seriously....

WE ARE NOT SETTLING DOWN ANYTIME SOON!

2009-12-27T19:03:00.010-05:00

Hi y'all! Once again, I am required to say y'all, seeing as I am in the southern regions of this great country of ours (and I say great still, in spite of our idiot gov't, and many of the people of this country who are less than smart--you know, the whole unwashed masses thing).

Sooo, I guess y'all just didn't get the memo? As of today, my favorite husband and I have been on the road for 7 months (shy of a few days). When we left the not-so-great state of NJ (our friends are great, and the flowers in the spring at least in our part were great, but much else, not so much!), we thought we were going to maybe spend a few months traveling, up to a year tops. We thought we would check out Texas and settle there at a forsee-able time (I am aware that I didn't spell that word correctly).

Lately--in fact, more and more, we have been kind of getting looks of surprise and uncertainty from people when we respond to their question of "So, when are you settling down?" with "ummm, not settling down. Liking what we're doing. Plan on doing it for, oh, years!" I don't think anyone really knows what to do with that information. Aren't we tired of living in a hotel? What about roots? What about community? How are you eating? Aren't you tired of eating crap? My oh my, bless their hearts, the questions just go on and on!

The thing is, we already did the roots thing, the community thing. And the fact is, we DO have a community! What are you, new? Technology is our friend! We are so in touch with the world-emails, text, phone calls, facebook-you name it, baby, and we're doing it! And I myself don't feel the need for roots-did all of that already. This is the time when we are stretching our boundaries, stretching our wings, having adventures, meeting new people! What's NOT to like about what we're doing? There does seem to be some concern that I, especially, as a species known as "female" ought not to enjoy the whole hotel thing. Well, here it is, fellow females--I haven't cooked since lord knows when (and I LIKE it that way!). I haven't done housework since May 29, and it doesn't look like I'm going to be doing it again any time soon, and I REALLY like that. I do laundry, and yes, oftentimes it is at a laundromat, but who cares? The time spent doing laundry is time spent calling family and friends on the phone, or getting in touch on the computer. We oftentimes purchase food at a grocery, so we manage to eat fairly well, or we go out (and what's not to like about that?). Pretty much everywhere we go either has an exercise room, so we stay healthy with that, and if it doesn't, we have Jillian Michaels dvd for working out, and hand weights that we carry with us so I can stay firm (ok, so I can GET firm!). I LIKE the fact that I have so little in the way of material possessions to be concerned with (dangling participle, yes?) What I need I carry in my raspberry pink suitcase--2 pairs jeans, 2 pairs capris, 3 pairs shorts, bathing suit, lots of tops, red silk polka dot pj's, 1 pair work boots, 1 pair sandals, 1 sneakers, and my particular indulgence of my knee high brown suede fringed hippie boots (and THOSE are THE item that have been most commented upon in every state we go to!). I manage to color my hair to keep it beautiful, moisturize my complexion, and stay, generally speaking, well-groomed. I am NOT letting myself go!

I travel with my laptop, my cell phone, IPOD, a notebook, some crossword puzzle books-and I am able to expand my creative instincts in writing with my laptop, in addition to keeping the website for Tapestries of Hope (I am the Volunteer director for TOH).

Here's a day: we get up whenever we want (depending on checkout time, unless we're staying at a place for a few days, in which case, we'll exercise first thing). I take my leisure in getting ready, and then we go visit a pre-planned local site, or we just wander and find things. We hike sometimes, depending where we are, we generally end up at least walking quite a bit, we talk to the locals, we connect with all kinds of people along the way.

The big thing? I get to spend AS Much Time as I want with the man I love more than anything--can life get any better? No, I'm not tired of being in his company. Every so often we go off and do our own thing, but, mainly, we LIKE being together-imagine such a thing- if it doesn't make your eyes cross TO imagine it! Yes, folks out there in TV land, here's a couple who truly admire one another, who appreciate their time together! Are we ready to yet join Ripley's Believe it or Not? What DO we talk about 7 months later? Hmm--weather, definitely-what is it going to be at our final destination, what is it like now as far as driving is concerned? But wait, it gets more interesting! We discuss philosophy (our own, and the world's). Current news--and oftentimes I will go on a rant about something just heard or read (so you can check in with my favorite husband to see if HE's tired of traveling with me!). The state of the world, people we just met, who we anticipate meeting, family news (sometimes family gossip), where we want to be tomorrow, how much we DON'T want to settle down, all the stuff two people might otherwise discuss, its just that WE'RE doing it in a car--

We love this life, folks! We plan on doing this as long as we can, and, catch your breath here, even if something should happen to one of us (and, yes, I mean one or the other of us pre-deceasing the other, as in, yes, dying,) WOULD the Left Behind One, continue on? Well....yes. There is still so much to see, so much to do! For all my friends of the female persuasion-this is NOT a hardship for me! Word up--I love my husband, I love my life with him, we are having fun! Life is short, and I'm grabbing it by the shorthairs, if you catch my drift. Things could change on a dime, I'm well aware of that, and if and when it does, I will respond. THIS is the part of my life where I don't HAVE to be responsible, and it is my intention to S-T-R-E-T-C-H my comfort zones and my boundaries as far as I can, with the man I love beside me. So, rest easy, all y'all--life is good! Any questions?

Just have to say this....

2009-12-27T19:01:00.006-05:00

Love starting the morning with watching lousy tap-dancing! Did anyone EVER

see such dancing around as Napolitano trying to explain the failure on EVERY

level, of this latest terrorist attempt? She said everything worked the way it

was suppposed to! NO, it didn't! The only thing that worked was the PASSENGERS

who responded, and the air crew! And Geithner followed up the performance with his own dance--no response to WHY the terrorist's father's warnings to the embassy were ignored. Only reason this wasn't a horrible event was that the fuse failed! First terrorism attempt on BO's watch, and he FAILED. Are we surprised? And WHERE is the pres? Vacationing in Hawaii! I get that he gets briefings, but it looks bad. WHY isn't he back in WA firing people left and rightfor their failures to keep this from happening? WHY are they just now steppingup security procedures? SHOULDN'T those procedures have ALREADY been in

place? Oh, my bad--I called it terrorism instead of the global exercise in something, something. SORRY! DANCE, DANCE, DANCE!

Synchronicity....

2009-12-03T18:59:00.004-05:00

Synchronicity***when the odds of something happening are so out of whack that you can't believe it has actually happened, and then it does.

Example: Chuck and I are traveling towards Savannah, GA, and decide to stop for lunch in Mt Pleasant, GA, not even realizing what the name of the town was. And then we decide to take a walk around an outside shopping mall to stretch our legs before continuing our trip. AND, as we are walking around, enjoying the sunshine, we hear Chuck's name being called. AND, we turn around, and THERE, behind us, are our friends from DE, whom we stopped to visit a few weeks ago! They were on THEIR way to FL, with some friends, and had stopped in Mt. Pleasant, GA, to have some coffee and take a break. SO, not only did we get a chance to visit very unexpectedly with Bill and Mary Jo, we met new friends, Phil and Karen, their friends who are traveling WITH them, who JUST happen to be from Myrtle Beach, WHERE we just were for the last two days....

SYNCHRONICITY......

a Thanksgiving moment...

2009-11-24T14:07:00.001-05:00

Hi all-

   Like so many of you, I have become so aware of life's quickly passing moments since the death of my mom and brother so many years ago, and I strive to live a concious life everyday. So, having said that, I just want to send out to all of you, my dearest angel sisters, a wish from my heart to yours to have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving, and not too many stomachaches from over-eating!
   My recent sojourn in NJ showed me more than ever how loved I am, and that is my greatest blessing in life. I wish I could have spent more time with each of you individually, but am glad I had the time that I did! Too, I was fortunate to meet some of the daughters who have joined the groups since I left in May, and that was a great joy to me! Years ago when I started TOH, I had so many dreams for it, and I never envisioned leaving my position as Pres. for many years. Well, life happened, and things changed, but what I have seen is that my great dream is continuing on with the new staff, and new leadership, and I am eternally grateful for that, and thankful this Thanksgiving for all the women who have stepped into place to continue our mission of reaching out to daughters in bereavement. Its a grief that we will all go through at some point, if life is fair (consider the alternative-our moms' grieving us). TOH gives daughters a place to recognize their grief, and share their stories of their moms.
   Our newest way of reaching out to all of you, and to the new daughters who will join us, is our new website, and I hope you'll all make use of the forum! And sign the guestbook! Its all very user friendly, and every message you leave, or topic you generate, will reach another woman and leave a message of hope for her. We've already had a daughter from FL find our site and leave a message. Let her know that she isn't alone!
   I'm keeping our angel sister Rhoda close in my heart this year-she is going through a very difficult time healthwise, and I ask all of you to do the same. This time of year is tough for many of us emotionally--reach out to one another via phone support, emails, our forum, here on fb--don't isolate yourself!
   It will be May before I see all of you again, but you all travel with me, and I am always available via phone too! I'll be here in VA beach for Thanksgiving, thinking of each of you, sending blessings to each of you-

alison
daughter of Betty Catharine

a true treasure trove moment...

2009-07-27T18:48:00.009-04:00

   I visited my aunt today, here in CA-she is the widow of my mom's brother Les, who died a few years after my mom. I'd always been fascinated by the fact that my mom and her brother were born 7 years apart, on the same day-what are the odds? And, additionally, I met a cousin of mine, her son, that I'd never met-and here I am 51 years old! I grew up in a military family, moving frequently, and I never knew much of my extended family as a result, but here was the opportunity, and I'm so glad it worked out!
   The treasure trove....my uncle Les and my mom used to always refer to me as the family historian-I"ve always loved finding out about ancestors, recording events, the whole nine yards. And it touched me to my bones that my Uncle Les really did consider me so-and as a result, left to me, when he died, this treasure box that my aunt passed along to me yesterday. A computer paper box, very heavy, very plain looking-giving NO indication of the walloping emotions that lay inside...
   My uncle's death, also from cancer, shook me again when it happened-for himself, a man I loved, and for another link to my mom being gone-you will know what I mean when I say that. It was painful all over again, and I eventually put it into its' place in my life, and continued on, as we do. Well, I have to say, this simple cardboard box, packed a wallop that was as overwhelming as could be. I waited until we were at our hotel to open it, and was not in any way prepared for what lay within. There are books that belonged to my grandpa, my mom's dad, who was a Presbyterian minister, journals he kept from the 1920's about his ministry, about his marriage, about my mom, letters he wrote, memorial cards from when my grandma died, burial information about his second wife, who was Scottish, and her sea captain father, birth and death certificates for all of them, notes and letters of family members when my brother Kysa died, when they found out about my mom's illness 6 months later....it goes on and on. It will take me months, probably longer, to go through all the information. And I am honored that Uncle Les left this to me, that he thought so much of me that he did this.
   There is so much more in that box then what is physical. Inside, I found that my uncle thought of me and who I was as much as I thought of him and who he was. That sounds simple, but I only met him a few times, and I didn't realize. One of the first things I read in there was a note from him to his sister, my mom, saying how devastated they were to learn of her illness, notes from other family from when she died. Pictures, so many of them, of forgotten days and memories. All good, and all too much to take in at one sitting. I had to put it away, the tears were as sudden and the pain as fierce as if it were all new. Inside this box are the papers that are my grandma and my grandpa, my Uncle Les, my mom, my brother..so many people who meant so much to me who are gone. And as I go through these papers, and build their stories, and renew my memories, I will be honored again that Uncle Les thought enough of me that he gifted me with all of this, and I will grieve again that these loved ones are gone, and I will celebrate that they lived, and I will add to my life and my memories by reading, and reading some more, and realize again that our story is just that--our story, and that each person who knew these same family members knew them in a different way than I did, and that will broaden MY story of them, the living, and maybe add more to my relationship with them in this life. A moment to realize and grow and remind me to make this life I have count in as many ways as possible, a moment to know that I am blessed to still have opportunity to change me, to change my relationships, to build my story, to maybe have something of quality to leave behind me....
   Thank you from my heart, Uncle Les, for gifting me with more of the story of my mom, of my brother, of you...

Alison

a sinning in Vegas moment.....

2009-07-23T18:46:00.006-04:00

   It was a great relief for me to slide into Las Vegas the other day! I'd pretty much had my fill of the whole nature thing-all lovely, but I really needed some city stuff. The first nite there, TMIL and I stayed at Nellis AFB, got a lovely suite of rooms right across from the Air Force Warfare Center. Full bdrm, large bath, and a sitting room/kitchen. They even gave us soooo soft robes to wear, just like in a grand hotel! What I loved especially was that, while I was sitting on the steps outside, waiting for our laundry to be done, and catching up on phone calls, over the base sound system came the sound of retreat, on bugle, for the end of the day. Very soothing to me! And, periodically, the roar of F-16s overhead-an airshow just for me--Nellis is the home of the Thunderbirds.
   Alas, we were only able to score rooms for one nite, but the next two nites were equally wonderful at South Point resort, just off the strip. We were upgraded to a gorgeous room on the 24th floor (once again, what IS it with heights out here?). Soft golden tones to the paint, fleur-di-lis carpeting,a canopied bed--what not to love? Not that we spent much time there....The thing is, we all hear about what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas-its all over, on signs, on TV ads, on t-shirts. And I kept saying to the dear man in my life, that we HAD to think of something that would have to stay in Vegas! We tried, we really did, but I am here to share with you, angel sisters, that we have nothing to report that has to stay there. I mulled over the 10 Commandments in my head, trying to think of a minor one that we could break, just to keep things exciting, but....no luck. Sinning takes an awful lot of energy, and I just am not quite up to it. I did have some guy stop me on the street, trying to sell us something. Blah, blah, he would give us $100 for gambling if we would devote an hour of our time to something....and when I told him we don't gamble, he asked if it was for religious reasons, and I said no, it was because I was attached to my money. I am soooo immune to sell jobs-I don't like pop culture, I don't drink, I don't gamble....how can I sin? There's nothing for me! My worst thing I do is indulge in a diet pepsi now and again, or eat chocolate. Yes, I'm boring...I know that! We thoroughly enjoyed Vegas, the bright lites, the whole nine yards. I was conned into buying one of those silk wraps which are completely beautiful, and come with instructions as to the many ways they can be tied, but, after spending an hour trying, all I can do is tie it around my waist. So, I believe I got screwed on that-trying to read the directions makes me feel like I'm taking that 3-D test from school. That was the worst of the whole trip there!
   Sorry, nothing to report-no sinning, no gambling, nothing that has to stay there. I can freely answer any questions from anyone. But we did have a FUN time, and I'm glad I experienced it. At the moment, I'm writing to you from Bakersfield, here overnite, then to Sequoia Nat'l Park tomorrow, and San Fran for the weekend. Some pics here for you too--what a wonderful country, and how blessed I am to be seeing it!

Alison

a Sand Dunes moment....

2009-07-13T18:44:00.008-04:00

I've spent many years saying goodbye to my brother Kysa. It was my experience with him as he was dying that ultimately led me to my work with hospice and then Tapestries. Its been 13 years now since he died, and this was my first time back in Durango, CO, where he lived and died, and my first time at the Sand Dunes near Alamosa CO, since his death. You can see the dunes from a great distance--there is a huge span of white in the midst of the mts. At the entrance to the Dunes is Blanca Peak--a spot thought to be sacred by the Navajo. It is there that they believed that spirits enter and leave this world. I love that idea--it is a breathtaking piece of mountain. My brother Kysa loved the Sand Dunes and I have videos of him running and leaping down the dunes, thoroughly enjoying himself. So the idea of his spirit having left the world there at that spot was comforting to me.
TMIL and I crossed Medano Creek, which flows down from the mts. It was very low at this time of year, but I have memories of splashing and playing in it with my kids, when it was knee high and wonderfully warm. You cross a bit of sand, and then--there are the dunes! The highest one rises 750 ft--I wasn't terribly enthused even about climbing the lower ones! It looks much easier from below than when you are actually confronting them. We had an hysterical time sliding down the one, and then attempting to climb the next one--basically you step in place, going nowhere, but falling numerous times. We finally got to the top of one, and I sent TMIL ahead of me to climb the next one, and took a break on the one already conquered. Has anyone seen the Stephen Colbert show-the one where he was talking about being in Iraq in the midst of a dust storm, and he said he felt like he was being polished? Well, that's how I felt--the wind was blowing up to 35 mph and I had to duck my head to avoid it as much as possible. It was while I was sitting up there, contemplating the mountains around me, listening to the silence, thinking of my brother, that I decided to return to this place again, and this time bring his cremains that I've been keeping for so many years. I'm going to bring them here, climb as high as I can, say a special prayer of letting go, and scatter him to the winds in the place he loved so much. Its time.....

a being terrified moment.....again....

2009-07-13T18:42:00.007-04:00

Mountains, mountains, mountains...they are EVERYWHERE out here! The other day I climbed one, albeit in a car, that you have all heard of. Yes, angels, I climbed Pike's Peak--to the summit, which is over 14, 000 ft, and I experienced every one of those feet. It was exciting at the bottom, I got pictures, contemplated the climb--good to go. Sunny day, it all looked great. TMIL was driving-he's a good driver, nothing to worry about. We got about halfway up and stopped at a little store to take a break. (It takes about an hour to get to the summit). In that charming little store was a t-shirt that said "you know you're climbing PP when....you are sitting closer to your spouse than you've sat since your second date....or when you are frantically calling friends and family on your cell phone, as you ascend, saying your goodbyes..." It went on, but you catch my drift. Here's a thought for all of you--when you see a t-shirt that says you survived something and has such things written on it--PAY ATTENTION! I didn't, and blithely returned to the car to continue the ride. Well, the road started twisting and turning--that old switchback thing, hairpin turns, narrow lanes. It was only a 2 lane road, and people coming down seemed to tend to be over too close to our side of the road. The reason this bothered me is that on MY side, the passenger side, there was NOTHING but a 1.000 ft drop-no guardrails (not that they would have helped). I was practically in Chuck's lap, just as the t-shirt predicted, and he, bless his heart, was patting me on the knee to soothe me, at which point I wanted to just scream at him to keep his hands ON the wheel and for god's sake, move more to the left with the car! And this wasn't as bad as it got--the paved road then ENDED and we were on dirt! Do you know how easily a car can skid on dirt? I couldn't close my eyes-it only made it worse, so I just kept my eyes down and covered and tried not to throw up. It was hair-raising, angels, and I am still alive to tell you about it, thank goodness! Also, just as the t-shirt promised, I was texting frantically to one of our angel sisters in NJ--telling her thank you for being in my life and asking her to please remember me to all of you if I didn't make it--which seemed an absolute possibility most of the time! We finally arrived at the top, I don't know how, and the wind was blowing to beat the band. Down below it had been in the 90's-up here it was 44 degrees with a snowfield. Lately I have been sincerely making the attempt, and succeeding for the most part, in not drinking diet pepsi, and eating in a more healthy manner. But I've got to tell you, between being completely shaken up by the upward ascent, and being grateful to still be alive, I treated myself to some caramels, thinking to chew them on the way down and avert some anxiety, and sucked down a diet pepsi as if it was 100 proof! It was truly splendid up there--you could see, as the song says, for miles and miles and miles. Gorgeous, spectacular, you say the descriptive word, and it was. But most of the time I was contemplating our DESCENT, and I wasn't contemplating it in a happy way....dread is the word that comes to mind. Well, we finally did start down, and there was a handy little sign saying "don't ride your brakes" but nothing else. There was a required stop at a ranger station not too far down, where I found out why you don't ride the brakes. The ranger measured the temp of our brakes-a good temp would have been in the low 100's. Ours was 300+, and she suggested in a completely friendly but official manner that we rest our car for the next 1/2hour. Which we did, and once we started, the next friendly sign said "hot brakes are failed brakes" . Had to stop one more time on the way down--I could smell the heat. Just when I thought we were through the worst of it, height wise, another switchback, another death fall to the side--I never thought we'd get to the bottom! But all good things must come to an end, and just when I was totally exhausted from anxiety, we hit solid land, the brakes were intact, though we probably used up two months worth of them while doing the up and down. You ask again, and so do I--WHY do I continue climbing rocks, ascending mountains on foot and in cars, when I am so fearful of heights? Just what am I trying to prove? Maybe I don't want to appear chicken, either to TMIL or myself--don't know. So is that the LAST time I do such a thing? I'd like to say yes, but I'd be lying.
Tomorrow we are heading for Utah, and the north rim of the Grand Canyon, and I KNOW I'm going to be horrified beyond belief--but TMIL is going, and I'm going with him. Will Alison finally learn her lesson and stay on low ground? Don't hold your breath!

Too much thinking moment...

2009-07-06T09:41:00.006-04:00

In traveling around this country, just the little bit I've seen so far, a thought strikes

me constantly. The states I've been in so far, here in the Southwest especially, are BIG! And there are so many parts of each state that is vastly different from the parts already seen. Texas went from hill country, soothing to the eyes, some green, low-growing mesquite and pine, to flat and ugly down near the border. And then pretty again as we headed to New Mexico. We came into New Mexico from the East--UGLY with a capital U! Who knew that part of the state was a long road with oil wells as far as the eye could see? And the stench! of sulphur for miles...only to turn pretty again as we approached Arizona, and went into the mountains--absolute beauty. Which turned into the red rock area of Sedona, which is completely different from 45 minutes north into Flagstaff, which is busy, much cooler, and has snow regularly. Leaving this morning to head into northern AZ, and the Navajo reservation, which has a beauty of its' own in parts, but looks much like a stone quarry would back East. Once again, ugly, and it gave me some understanding of why any native Americans would be pissed at the white man for shoving him off into this godforsaken area where it is nothing but HARD living, and miles away from ANYWHERE in a very serious way,and how on earth can anyone make a living? Then it gradually changed again to pretty, ugly around the Four Corners area of CO, then pretty into Cortez, green mountains, gentle hills, and the beauty of the mountains as we came into Durango. So, my thought is: each part of a state, each part of the country, has its' own terrain, its' own geography, its's own weather, and this necessarily makes the people different. The cities and/or towns, are far apart, most often people are VERY far away from law enforcement--and I understand the need and desire to own guns--you have to know how to take care of yourself and your family. The biggest question I have is: how on earth can all of our differences necessitated by the vastly different places we all live in, be overcome by everyone, to the point where we can find enough common ground to have agreement? It gives me pause to be awed by the fact that our founding fathers were able to accomplish ANYTHING, never mind anyone who came after them. I'd always read how vast this country is-now I"m seeing it, and it is a bit of a shock to the system to realize it in fact. Without sounding too dramatic about it, I am awed at the fact that we have ONE country here. Yes, there are differences in thought, and disagreements, but ultimately, we have one country, and one government, and that is not to be dismissed lightly...

Sorry for the soapbox-this country does that to me!

Alison

Saying goodbye to Sedona moment...

2009-07-06T09:40:00.006-04:00

My mom had eight kids, traveled around the world as an army wife, and then, in retirement, moved back and forth around the country with one of my sisters and her family. One of the things she always told me was that the price of raising independent kids was seeing them go and BE independent. Well, that's pretty much how I raised my kids. l told them frequently, as they grew older and were wondering what to do with their lives, that there was a whole country out there--go and see it, for goodness sake! So....they did, and they have....

TMIL and I spent a wonderful two weeks with our sons in Sedona-we did hiking aplenty (I wore my pink sandals out, oh no!), saw the sights, took plenty of pictures. Both of us were getting impatient to get back on the road again and continue our adventures, but it was tough saying goodbye to my sons. And yet, so much of my philosophy has matured--life is full of goodbyes of one sort or another, isn't it? Goodbye to jobs,to kids when they grow up, to siblings when they move, to parents when they die. Every goodbye can cause a heart-tug, and it always does with me, but I'm practicing the Buddhist principal of detachment as well as I can. Not that it doesn't still cause that tug, but really and truly remembering that ALL of life is inconstant, and the only one thing we can always count on is that change will happen, and it is our choice as to how we react. Even if TMIL and I chose to settle in Sedona, to be near our sons, they are at the time in their lives when they are in transition. The older one, Alec, is headed for Phoenix in the fall, and Nick, our younger, is returning to the East Coast, and New England, in the fall. (He's a Jersey boy through and through!). I would have had to say goodbye at some point no matter what. Is it easier to be the one leaving, or the leftee? TMIL and I always said when he was active duty, and was going TDY (military trips) all the time, told me frequently that it is always harder to be left behind, because the leaving one is going into a new situation. I tend to agree with him. So, here I am, said goodbye to the boys, trusting that they know how to make good choices in their lives, and after a full day of traveling, including going to Mesa Verde to see the cliff dwellers, I'm here in Durango, CO. Mixed feelings being here--my brother Kysa was living here when he became ill and died so many years ago, and I was with him. A new experience-I'm here with the man I love, and new memories to be made.
Deep thoughts,angel sisters!

Alison

A changing moment, and Cathedral of the Rocks...

2009-07-02T09:38:00.006-04:00

We went hiking yesterday to Cathedral Rock. I didn't get as far to the top as I would have liked-I have a terrible fear of heights and it was getting a bit steep for me. In those moments, I stop to consider-am I trying to prove something to myself or to others? How far do I need to go in an attempt to overcome my fear? Do I NEED to overcome my fear? After all, isn't it a choice to go climbing? And how often am I going to need to scale such heights in a physical way? In any case, I got about half way up, then decided to sit it out while the others continued. But it was while I was sitting it out that I had some thoughts about my life in the last month, and how I've already changed so much...

Our belongings are sitting in a storage unit back in Indiana, to be retrieved when we decide that we are done with traveling and have found a place to settle down. So far, as I've said before, top of the list is the hill country of Texas. That part of Texas, this part of the country, holds a vastly different feeling than that of the East coast. Yes,there are cities here and there, and the people there are just as rushed as all other cities. But there is a wildness out here, a spaciousness, that makes me think differently. And, as I contemplate our belongings there in Indiana, I consider that we need to have another yard sale prior to moving our stuff anywhere, because I don't want or need all that is enclosed in that unit. I think of the clothing I packed away and realize I'm not the same person who packed them up. As I was packing, of course I got rid of the business type clothes mostly, but I think of the few pairs of heels that I saved, some of the fancy boots, and my first thought is that I can't imagine ever wearing them again. I want sandals and cowboy boots, or something of the type! And nylons? Sooo not happening ever again! How about jeans and boots from now on? I go on to think about even the bed linens and stuff for decorating the house--lots of it the Shabby Chic that I so love. And I still think its beautiful, but I no longer want the pale colors around me....I want VIVID! I want jewel tones! I want colors that reflect all the excitement and joy of my new life...
Changes...I practice daily being open to changes, looking forward to changing. This is a whole new life for me...one where there aren't any hard and fast plans for the future. I am being in the moments of each day, soaking them up, taking heart pictures in the moments that can never truly be captured with a camera. It feels good, and I'm so very glad that TMIL and I were willing to take the chance to do this, willing to make the trade-offs of financial security and physical security, to grab at life and get out of that rat race. This life we have together now is bonding us even more strongly-we are finally getting the time together that we have always wanted, and we are making all of our moments count, and creating memories both for and with each other.
angel sister blessings to all of you!
Alison

A meditative moment...

2009-06-28T09:35:00.005-04:00

On the way to uptown Sedona, from the village at Oak Creek, you can take a turn to the right, there is a road that will lead you into the Red Rocks. Park your car, and look up above, and you'll see the starkly simple Chapel of the Holy Cross. The ramp that leads to it is winding, and you will come upon small gardens that are tucked into the sides. What makes it so stunning is that you are surrounded, you are IN the red rocks....

I've visited this chapel each time I'm here in Sedona. The window behind the altar looks out at the natural wonders of creation--and if you step to the edge, near the back, AND you have vertigo, it can get it going! The heights and drops will get your adrenalin racing through your body-
As in many chapels, there are rows of candles that you can light in memory of...and I lit one in memory of all of our moms and said a prayer too, for Jess Boykin and her team who are crewing the Avon walk for the Cure this weekend in Denver. Its very moving to read the inscriptions under each candle-the one that always chokes me up says "isn't this beautiful, mom?"
There was an Indian family visiting when I was there, and I watched as each of them exited the chapel, stood at the center of a circle of bricks on a mosaic tile of a dove, and meditated for a few minutes. There is a sense of peace there, whatever your faith. It gave me a chance to slow down and truly be in the moment....

A good lord, my body aches moment...

2009-06-22T09:34:00.004-04:00

It sounded like a good idea at the time...Father's Day, spending time with our boys, a healthy hike in the great outdoors-it had all the makings of a day to remember. And, yes, I will remember it, especially today, the day after...

   TMIL and I have spent an awful lot of time in our car, traveling, seeing the country--wonderful all the way round! But we need more exercise, and we both know it. So, since we landed here in Sedona and decided to stay for a couple weeks with our loving sons, we have embarked on a daily walking program. Not Olympic style walking, but a good, healthy, hour long walk every morning. We're doing this,mind you, absent any hot showers--the boys haven't had any propane for hot water, so we've been making do with cold bath type washups. Ever shaved your legs with cold water? I'm here to tell you it can be done! The propane arrives today, perfect timing for my sore muscles....but I digress...
   TMIL and I took our exercise walk yesterday AM, and then decided to take the 2 family dogs on a walk when we returned from that--more walking, good to go on that! Another 45 minutes maybe, in addition to what we'd already done. Loved it, decided to do it again in following days....
   Back from all that, it was decided to spend Father's day at a place called Fossil Creek Canyon, about 1 1/2 hrs away. Piercing blue skies outside, mid 80's temps, nice breeze, perfect, right? Off we go!
   Fossil Creek is outside a verrrrryyy small town called Strawberry. AND, you leave town to suddenly be on a dirt road that continues for quuuite a time, until you arrive at the parking area for the hike. Here's the first word to all of you--if you have a DIRT road that leads you to any activity that you thought to do, TURN around! It does not bode well for a feeling of comfort at the end of the day! BUT, I wasn't thinking that way--no, no, I was excited at the idea of hiking! We park our trusty Saturn VUE, which is already, from the previous day, covered in red dust from having visited Oak Creek. I am NOT acclimated to the whole hiking lifestyle, I am the first to admit, and I was NOT as prepared as I possibly should have been. I had brought a bottled water of course-you don't go ANYWHERE out here without some water! I had some sunscreen--I have a fairly deep tan already from regular exposure, but don't want to end up looking like a dried prune. My straw cowboy hat--love it, wear it most the time. Wearing my pink sandals...hmmm....sneakers might have been a better choice...
   TMIL studied the sign for Fossil Creek prior to descending...it said 4 miles. I heard him say that, but it didn't register with me. We had been told 2 miles each way, and that's what was cemented on my mind. Two miles? Who can't do that?
   Well, it WAS 4 miles....each way. Of course it started out all right...feeling good, full of energy. The terrain was initially not too bad-a little dusty, but who cares about that? Though we were descending a looonnnnggg way down, it wasn't the intimidating red rocks of the Grand Canyon, with the very narrow pathways that gave you NO protection from seeing the death drops to your side. This was green, pine trees all over, shrubs, colorful cactus-all very nice! We would meet people along the way who were returning to the top--they didn't look all that happy-mainly they looked tired and done in. And the path got a bit steeper, and rockier. The rocks were sometimes very small, and its debatable as to whether that makes it harder than the bigger ones that you had to skirt around. But all manageable. And we'd ask the top bound hikers about how far they thought it would be til we reached the bottom from our common spot. Clearly, they were optimistic in their calculations, because it ALWAYS ended up being longer! I got to the point where I was hiking down a dried riverbend, with REALLY large boulders that had to be clambered over. WHERE was this supposed swimming pond and stupendous waterfall that had been touted to us? I could hear the sound of the wind in the pines, and yes, it was soothing, blah, blah, blah, but NO sounds of water! But what could we do? We continued on. At one point on the walk, I was expressing to TMIL that all this walking DAMN well better make me lose calories,and I asked him if it had already made my butt look smaller (the eternal question!) My eyes were on the ground, watching my footing so I wouldn't twist an ankle on the rocks, and I didn't realize that there were 2 hikers approaching from the opposite direction, and the one female hiker heard me and it gave her a laugh to hear that, but it lightened up the mood considerably.
   My pink sandals? Not doing me real well--I had a blister hatching on the bottom of my big toe. But bearable, so I soldiered on... and on...and on...
   And, yes, folks, there WAS actually a swimming pond at the bottom, and there was a waterfall, but I didn't see it, because it was STILL a quarter mile hike down the road a piece, and I wasn't interested in going any further. I stuck my feet in the water-people were swimming about, having a good time, it was peaceful...the only thing that kept me from TRULY relaxing was thinking, well, wait a minute, we still have to HIKE back up to the top--4 MORE miles! But, making a brave attempt at staying in the moment, which is my new mantra, I put that out of my mind, and stayed in the damn moment.
   I won't bore you with the death defying details of returning UP TO THE TOP! Suffice to say, I had to borrow a pair of my son Nick's white socks that thank goodness he had brought with him, or the blisters on my feet would have been INCREDIBLY painful, and would, perhaps, have precluded me being able to GET to the top. Yes, I was a real fashion plate in my white socks and pink sandals--almost made me look European. Dusk, and then dark, was going to hit the canyon soon, so we started back up. I didn't care about the waterfall, and, fairly shortly, I didn't care about the beauty around me, or Mother Nature, or tree-hugging or anything else. I just wanted to be AT the top, IN the car, AT a restaurant, and eating food! (the few goldfish crackers I ate at the bottom just wasn't doing it for me!) FURTHERMORE, this was an area where you could FULLY expect that there could be mountain lions. Oh, yes, angels, there ARE mountain lions out here, and you never know WHEN they might pounce on you and make dinner of you. In my mind, I was posing a scenario of this happening, and how I could best react so to save my life, or how my loved ones around me might react so that they could save my life. Would it just chomp on me and destroy my face, before being scared off and then I would have to have plastic surgery? Would I be one of those people who could get a face transplant? Would it tear off an arm or leg? Its tough to notice surrounding beauty when such thoughts are going through your mind.
   It was TOUGH going up...but I have always felt the need to prove to myself that I am capable of doing whatever needs to be done, and I persevered. There was momentary thought to heart attacks, in addition to cat attacks, and being airlifted out, and did they charge for that, by the way? But mostly, I kept my eyes to the ground, watching my footing, refusing to look up to where I needed to be to be done with this forced march. Who wants to know how much further it is, if you know, in your heart of hearts, that it is much further than you want to know? Likewise, I didn't ask anyone around me for possible estimates as to when we'd reach the top. It didn't matter. I just had to get there, and to do that, I had to put one foot in front of another.
   4 miles is a LOONNNgg way uphill...long, dusty, tiring, exhausting...you name it. But all good things must come to an end, and, as evidenced by the fact that I'm sitting here typing this, I did make it to the top. Father's Day dinner plans were ditched-we were all sweaty, covered in red dust, and done for the day. Who knew fast food could taste so good--we stopped at a SONIC, which was, thankfully, still open! (here in the wilds, places close up early as a general rule). We wolfed down one of everything, and I'm sure I consumed all the calories I had lost earlier, and who cared?) And, in the dark, we headed home....
   Today's report: Its really, really, hard to stand up and move freely--I need a massage desperately! And, though I said yesterday that I would never do such a thing again, I probably will, if offered the chance, because I like to challenge myself. I could, if any of you care to, be talked out or that nutty thinking. The house is quiet,everyone still sleeping off yesterday's adventure, or off to work. Today will be a quiet day, resting up. I will definitely stay in this moment!

a Southwestern being in the moment...

2009-06-20T09:33:00.003-04:00

It's been a long trip to get here to Sedona, and I saw parts of the country I didn't even know were out here!

TMIL and I had thought that we might settle eventually in San Angelo, TX, and it was duly checked out--and promptly, checked off, our list! Texas, as we all know, is a HUGE state--I found out that there are enough roads in TX to wrap around the world 5 times--so, yep, that's huge. We were hopeful, going from the hill country we fell in love with, to further south, that we'd find more of the same...but, nope! not to be. Heading into the San Angelo area, the geography got FLAT, flat, flat! We did stay overnite, and drove around, and I kept hoping to find the GOOD part of town, but there really WASN'T a good part of town. That part of TX has to put the natives through some tough times--how does anyone do it? And I don't mind the middle of nowhere, but it was the middle of nowhere ugly....so, a resounding NO to San Angelo.

Interesting traveling AWAY from San Angelo--it got pretty again, and who knew that there were extensive wind farms out there? And when I say windfarm, I mean extending for upwards to 60 miles in every direction--look at the picture I posted, and imagine a horizon full of them--

Also, in the middle of nowhere, TX, suddenly this massive castle-like house--clearly some money at work here, and it must be from oil, because we suddenly started seeing oil wells...like big ducks, dipping down to pick seeds off the ground. And then, another big surprise, as we drove out of Hobbs, NM--I had NO idea that NM was oil country! Just like the windfarm, for miles and miles, nothing but oil drills. And believe me, it was miles and miles and miles, and all the while, the air stank of sulfur, and it was UuuuGggly! with flat land, crazy big rig drivers and others, who would come right up on your tailpipe, suddenly swerve out, almost hitting you, and then pass with no room to spare. I'm giving you fair warning, angels, you take your life in your hand to drive in this part of the country! At least in NJ, people pretty much KNOW that they are aggressive jerks when it comes to driving--out here, I don't think they know how to drive but they think they do, and that makes for trouble!

We have been leisurely in driving--we each take turns at the wheel, and stop when we see something interesting. I saw my first roadrunner--outside of the cartoon, that is! It wasn't going beep, beep, and it skittered across the road so quickly, you had to look twice to make sure of what it was, and there wasn't a coyote chasing it, but it was, yes, indeed, a roadrunner! And then, an elk, standing right at the side of the road--don't know why, maybe he didn't know, but there he was. And more armadillo--more dead ones, but still a southwestern thing....

A lovely night at a hotel in the mountains of AZ, in a town called Show Low, which I can never seem to remember properly, and so call Slow Mo, or LowShow, or Show and Tell, but it is a pretty little town, tho approaching it was when we saw that horrible sign about wolves and keeping your kids and pets close by-as if we don't have enough to worry about as parents. Sounds a little too Hansel and Gretl, and I will not be moving there anytime soon, thank you!

The White Sands speak for themselves-the true vastness of this earth, how small we all are in the scheme of things. I'll be interested to contrast them with the Sand Dunes of Alamosa, CO, which we plan on visiting...

So, angel sisters, here I am in Sedona, AZ, with my 2 sons, and I think we'll be here until July 4, maybe watch some fireworks over the red rocks. Feeling relaxed, loving the time with TMIL, wondering when I'm going to get back to work on my book, but enjoying my first time off in a very long time. Angel blessings to all of you-I carry you with me...
Alison

a Texas state of mind....

2009-06-15T18:39:00.005-04:00

Is Texas a state of mind? If one is born in one place, leaves, and returns many,many, years later, is there a natural born affinity for that place? Good question, and who knows what the answer might be? I can tell you, I LOVE Texas! We have been here for a few days now, and not even covered much of the state--it is indeed huge! As we've driven through the state, I have felt my mind and my lungs opening up--I feel like I'm able to breathe. The sky is wide open, and as blue as can be-and it goes on forever. I saw my first REAL cowboy today--a guy on a horse, wearing a cowboy hat and boots-does life get any better? My first dust devil--a mini dirt tornado, springing from the dry ground--it is dry here in the hill country, and the wind blows endlessly. I told TMIL that we could anchor a kite to the ground (we love kite-flying), and leave it, and it would fly endlessly because of the wind. It would probably drive some people crazy but I like it. AND, what is the name of the song that has in it "where the deer and the antelope play"? Well, I SAW antelope playing....well, not actually playing....they were standing still....but they WERE antelope, right out there in the unending waves of low-growing mesquite and sage. Tonight I'll step outside our hotel room and see if the stars at night really are big and bright (clap, clap, clap), deep in the heart of Texas! Because we ARE deep in the very heart of Texas--and tho it is still hill country, its different from the Eastern part of hill country.
Perhaps I've fallen in love with the romance of the West--there is a real sense of independence here-the flag is on display everywhere, and by flag, I mean the state flag of Texas. You will often see the US flag also, but definitely the Texas state flag. I think back to the original men who came out this way, and one of them sitting on his horse as he came over the hill, and saying "Holy hell, Batman! Does this never end?" It really does go on forever!
So, this immediate part of the state doesn't appeal to us--we prefer the hill country between Austin and San Antonio. We'll go back to that area, and in the meanwhile, research on the internet for housing prices, etc. I did have a long moment of people sickness this afternoon--just missing everyone, and my life with TOH--but life is about learning to let go, isn't it? That's what I'm practicing doing with TOH--its in good hands. I do miss all of my angel sisters, and am glad we're staying in touch in various ways.
Onto Alemagordo, New Mexico, tomorrow--and then Las Cruces. We'll see what those areas look like for settling in, but I'm pretty sold on Texas, and there's so many places to explore here. We will be on the road for a long while, yet, so no rush for finding a place to settle!

Blessings and hugs,
Alison

a Texas hill country moment...

2009-06-13T18:37:00.005-04:00

We're in San Antonio, Texas today--arrived yesterday and not terribly impressed with it. This morning we did go to the Alamo, and that was amazing-the age old fascination with what was basically a massacre. What draws us to such a story? The structure is from old Mexico, beautiful stucco, flagstone courtyards--if we ever win the lottery, I have some great design ideas! Very sobering to realize what went on that long ago day-Davy Crockett, Will Travis, Jim Bowie-all those names from history become just a little bit more real when you're standing there.
   Did the whole Riverwalk thing in town-the boat ride is worth the trip, beautiful architecture, but other than that, its just a big mall, and I don't care for malls.
   We've decided to leave San Antonio tomorrow rather than stay another day-been there, done that, don't like the traffic and huge numbers of people! So off we'll go to San Angelo for a couple days to see if it is as good as it seems on the internet!
   But first--oh my goodness, angels, let me tell you about yesterday. As Maryann Kissam would say, God winked at us. We started out the day by going to my birthplace of Ft Hood, home of the 1st Cavalry Div. My dad served there many years ago, and I was born near the end of his tour. In my heart of hearts, I felt that, as a returning daughter, I merited a parade in my honor, or at least a personal escort, but apparently they were busy with military things and I had to manage with my TMIL as my escort. He is a font of military info so is exceedingly helpful in such situations. I took lots of pictures soon as we got into Ft Hood-there was an entire area with armaments from various wars--but it seemed archaic compared with what our military is now using! The 1st Cav has deployed numerous times since the Global War on Terror began, and there were signs everywhere wishing them farewell and welcoming them home. What a sight to see!
While at the post exchange-well, that was where God first winked at me! Last year I read a great book called "The Unlikely Lavender Queen" by Jeannie Ralston. It was a memoir detailing the author's move to TX a few years back, and her evolution into becoming a lavender farmer in the hill country. I loved the book and determined that when we were out in that part of the country, I wanted to stop at her farm and see all that beautiful lavender. I also knew there was a lavender festival but wasn't sure when. I planned on looking it up online last nite when we arrived at the hotel. So....I ended up speaking with a woman who worked at the PX, and she suggested we bypass the main route to San Antonio and take a lesser road, avoiding Friday PM rush hour. What I didn't realize along the way was that we were entering hill country--the land was rolling a bit more, scrub pine, a stiff breeze blowing and cooling it off JUST a little from the 102 degrees! We drove along-by this time I had donned my straw cowboy hat for cover-very necessary out here! And here we come into this little town called Blanco, and I immediately noticed that there were purple flags all over, and lavender bunting--we had rolled RIGHT INTO lavender country, and this was the ANNUAL lavender festival! I pretty much burned up the brakes with stopping and found a parking spot and took off--tents everywhere, selling everything lavender. AND here is the second wink--the first tent I walked into was from Hill Country Lavender--the memoir farm! Just imagine yourself for a moment, standing in 102 degree heat, but SURROUNDED by the heavenly scent of lavender--lotions, soaps, shampoos, essential oils, eye pillows...you name it! I felt IMMEDIATELY relaxed! (well,almost!). In speaking with one of the young women tending the tent, I offered that I had recently arrived from NJ and was winding my way through the country, and Texas was top of my llist. AND do you know what her first question was? "What exit?" she asked, and thereby identified herself as a native of some sort! I told her exit 5, and she laughed and said she was from exit 13. By such means do wayward NJ travelers recognize each other! She moved out here 5 years ago, and highly recommended it to me. I spent maybe an hour just browsing through the scented tents-ahhhh.....breathe...
..
   So, here I am now, and I've already told TMIL that if San Angelo checks out, I'm willing to up and move here! The people are friendly--and they really do say "y'all come back now, hear?" when you say goodbye, I like the weather (in spite of the heat), I like the history, I like the lavender--its right at the top of the list! So, someday I maybe writing y'all regularly from the hill country of Texas, as a native. There are so many possibliities-
   I'm tanned, feeling relaxed, enjoying the time with TMIL, life is good--and I'm so glad we decided to start thinking outside the box those many months ago when things went south with his job. A true story of one door closing and a myriad of windows opening! My lesson here is to not operate from fear, and think outside the parameters-great things can happen as a result...

Being in the moment in Louisiana!

2009-06-10T09:29:00.004-04:00

Hi y'all! (it is now REQUIRED that I address you that way!)

   TMIL and I are having some down time outside of Shreveport, LA. Our actual location, which is not a secret, is that we are at Barksdale AFB. We got here yesterday, and TMIL sweet-talked his way into getting us into the VOQ (visiting officer's quarters) instead of VAQ (visiting airmens' quarters). This may not sound big to any of y'all, but the fact is, he was a NON-COM while active duty (non-commissioned officer). Which means he was one of the ones who ran the show for the actual officers but didn't have the rank. So, TECHNICALLY, we ought to be in VAQ's, but he went on and on about how tired his lovely wife was, amount of bags he would have to carry, and put on some southern charm (which he is entitled to use as he is from IN), and got us in. We have a very nice room, equipped with a fridge, microwave, dvd player w/TV, a decent bthrm, extra fans (its 95 degrees here), a laundry room around the corner that we can use for free, plus we can use all the base facilities. So we walked over to the base gym this AM and I got on the treadmill. Can you believe I actually WANT to exercise these days? I so don't want to end up looking like a truck driver by the time this is done (bless their hearts!). But all that sitting can add the weight, don't you agree?
   I do feel a particular ease in staying on a military base. The settings are familiar, the language is familiar, it is self-contained (you don't even need to go off-base if you don't want). There is both a sense of security and we do save money, and you can't beat that combo!
   We, or should I say, I? said a sad goodbye to Elvis and Memphis yesterday--the all day sound of his sweet voice singing "love me tender" outside my hotel room, me sitting at the guitar shaped pool, swooning as I hummed along. Goodbye, Elvis! Long live the King--and onward to Louisiana via Arkansas. What can I say about Arkansas, other than it is NOT pronounced the way it is spelled? You don't say "Ar--Kansas". It is "Ar--kan-saw", tho why I don't know, other than they need to do something to be recognized! We came in from the East and headed South, and all I can say is "UGLY!" Tho, as TMIL told me, that is because that part of the state is all part of the Mississippi flood plain, accounting for its barren, brown.....brown-ness.
   Sorry, a break for a rant--just heard on the news that BO has ordered that the Gitmo terrorists are to be read their Miranda rights. Did I hear that right? Yes, I did! Let me just have a moment here to clear the blood from my bleeding eyeballs, and I'll get back to things. Breathe,breathe....ok. Back again....
   Ultimately we were welcomed into LA--and the area immediately before it in AR--all reminded me of the Pine Barrens in NJ, surprisingly enough. Some pretty flowers but not much else. So,here we are now at Barksdale, which is right outside of Boosier City. Not much to look at off-base in the immediate vicinity, and it closes down by 7pm--everything closes down, so have what you need. We ventured off-base to find some food, and figured we were probably in the wrong area of town when we saw a sign for bail bondsmen!
   I relaxed with some Ben and Jerry's this afternoon, we got some laundry done, and I'm going to attempt, once again, to reorganize and repack our car. I try that anew every morning, hoping that this time it might work and the contents won't explode outward when we open the door. No great expectations there, but its worth a try!
   We'll be continuing our southward journey tomorrow, heading in the general direction of Texas. We do plan on spending sometime in San Antonio, TX. I would very much like to see the Alamo! I grew up reading stories of Davy Crockett and his exploits there, and want to see where that history happened. I'll have an eventual report for you from there. In the meanwhile, I'll catch up with y'all from wherever I happen to be at the moment...stay tuned!

Blessings and hugs from your angel sister-
Alison

An Elvis birthday, and Memphis moment...

2009-06-08T09:28:00.004-04:00

I spent all of today being what I call a touron--a tourist in Elvis land! TMIL brought me to Memphis Tennessee as a birthday gift, and we have spent these two days living large. We came in from Kentucky yesterday, and are staying in a very nice Days Inn, right ACROSS the street from Graceland. It was surprising to me-Graceland is right in the middle of a strip of kind of run down looking fast food joints and stores. Its set way back up from the road, it has those beautiful musical note gates at the entrance, a sloping yard, and is old Southern style architecture.

   We did all the posing tourons do, I bought a couple of shirts with guitars or Elvis on them (pink of course!), and enjoyed myself thoroughly! Elvis radio plays around the clock, including at our hotel, and the pool is in the shape of a guitar. I'm eating all of this up of course. I saw Elvis in Philly at the old Spectrum on his last tour before his death in 77 (boy, that dates me!)
   More importantly, and this merits a new paragraph--Elvis was in Ft Hood, TX, new to the Army, when I was born there in 1958. Yes, girls, I myself am practically a celebrity because of that, and aren't you all just so impressed? My dad, who was stationed there at Ft Hood, remembers knowing whenever Elvis was around because you just followed the sound of all the girls screaming and shrieking! He told me yesterday tho that he remembers too, that Elvis was well respected there because he didn't ask for special favors...
   So, a great birthday--my husband is a bag of chips and all that! Tomorrow we're going to head west and then south, turning our saturn in the direction of Texas. Don't know how long it will take to get there-we're taking our time and seeing the country. This is tremendously exciting, seeing the country like this-and who better to do that with than the man I love!
   So, all you angel sisters, try not to be TOO envious that I have walked where Elvis walked! I can only share the pictures and give you an idea of what it was like-did you hear me fainting? I saw his uniform he wore in the Army, both his fatigues and the one where he wore a brown jacket called an Eisenhower jacket, and that hunka hunka burning man had a VERY nice set of shoulders! Sigh, be still, my heart! Our hotel room has pics of Elvis all over, and I apologized ahead of time to TMIL if I was distracted and didn't pay him the usual amount of attention, but I was sure he would understand. As we were out and about through the day, I was singing along to all of the Elvis songs--and he has just been accepting of the whole thing. l did try to talk him into buying an Elvis jumpsuit, but cost notwithstanding, he passed on the invite, and also said no to the belt buckle and ballcap. Ah, well, I suppose it is up to me to carry on the Elvis love, and I will do that with my two new shirts....
   I'll catch up with, as I suppose I'm now supposed to say, y'all in the next day or so. I love comments on the pictures-it makes me feel closer to al of you, or, once again, y'all!

Blessed be!