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Can’t get over how much I now know that was just not there in my early years.  It’s astonishing how ignorant we were growing up.  We had some true blessings, like each other, and a stunningly courageous strong Mom, who is unforgettable.  We were taught about God, but it’s true and obvious today that God is in everything, and in ourselves, even when we don’t recognize it as a fact.

It takes time, growing up, and experience is the best teacher.  We have to figure our for ourselves so much, and we must, must, must make decisions that are scary.  We never know when we make a decision if it’s going to work out or be a bad experience, but it’s an adventure.  It will be a learning experience one way or the other.

God taught me so much, just by giving me a faithful true husband.  So much I learned was provided by opportunities flowing from that wedding, when I was a mere 19, high school drop out.

Who knew!  Who can guess five years from now, or ten what will happen, what will come our way!  Challenges galore, experience untold, and adventure all through the years!

If you take the challenge, if you do things instead of talking about it, you make mistakes, yes, but you learn.  And after a while, you will know God in everything.

Wish I could sometimes go back to sleep when that happens, instead of thinking.  But, thinking just won’t shut off then.  It’s ok.  Most of that, I’ve thought before.  It’s about skin.  We all have skin.  Doesn’t matter what color it is, it holds all the essence of our selves inside, and seldom lets any of it really leak out.  Oh, when we are young, yes, we dare to speak thoughts, and often get ridiculed, or reminded that of course, everyone has silly thoughts, and then we do more research, unless we are stubbornly holding onto our errant thoughts as though they were strongly held beliefs.  But, for the most part, by the time we’ve reached middle age, we look back on our earlier foolishness, and how we tried on thoughts, opinions, and ideas, and either through trial and error, or long experience and learning from living, we reject them soundly.

Astonishing that in this day and age, it’s verboten, not allowed, forbidden to do the same.  How can we grow?  How can we know what we haven’t learned?  How can we discover what is true if we can’t explore ideas, talk about thoughts and dreams and ideas freely?

This sack of skin, this shield, this protective layer can be trained to keep out germs and other bacterial crap, and protect the body, but it’s permeable to ideas, words, notions, thoughts of others, and these days, the young are so cheated out of natural opportunities to share speculations, suppositions, bits of experiences, among themselves, they turn instead to a tiny box of lunatic fringe ideation pumped out by tiktok or whatever silly app they use on their phones, and absorb the weirdest notions, while questioning, questioning, and questioning not the world, not their friend, but themselves, and doing it with such a critical eye, they mutilate themselves in the name of conforming, far too often.

I’m glad I grew up at a time when we could talk about things among ourselves, and not sit together staring at our little boxes instead.  I’d rather not be labeled bigot, racist, white supremacist, woke, lunatic fringe, conspiracy theorist because I “tried on” an idea, entertained a thought, examined a situation from more than one side.  I fear for my grandchildren, each a treasure and blessing sent by a loving God.  I fear for my children who will be here long after I’m gone watching society turn into something other than good old America.

We were once free here.  Are we now?

Yesterday, I had an unwanted visitor.  BPPV.  That’s short for Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo.  If you’ve never experienced it, pray it never happens.  Seems we have tiny crystals in our inner ear somewhere, I can’t recall, and if they become disturbed, we get seriously dizzy.  I mean seasick dizzy, nausea, vomiting, the whole schmere.  And I’ll tell you, it’s unsettling.

When it first happened years ago, I went to the doc, got everything checked out, ct scan, everything.  Nothing wrong.  Checked my hearing too, and found the left ear had lost lots.  So, I’ve been living with one good ear for a while.  That’s ok.  And I discovered after trying a therapy group, that did nothing for me, that there are videos on youtube with different ways to clear the initial dizziness, and restore balance.

Why knew?

Well, I tried the famous Epley Maneuver, and got nowhere.  But I found a lady doctor who had the problem herself who posted a video with a maneuver where you get down on the floor, in a somersault position, and I can’t find it now, but that worked!  And I used it yesterday.  This is the one I found years ago.  And found yet another video by a chiropractor who helps folks with BPPV, and he did a maneuver very similar, but better for old people like me with bum knees.  You can get the same result using a chair!  Well, I tried that one, too.  Very useful.  Can’t find that video now, though.

Today, I’m a bit wobbly, because it takes a bit of time for your equilibrium to come back, and your confidence!  Jeez.

Thanksgiving next week, and to all that I have to be thankful for we can add these nifty maneuvers to solve the BPPV attacks.  Now, pray I don’t get another when I have to cook next week!

This morning, as I was going out in the dark to put out the scoop of dry cat food I put out for the foxes, the ones who were born under our own shed, across the yard came a deer!  Headed right for the food spot!  Amazing!

What a beautiful gift!  What a way to start the day!

He was surprised, and took off, but hey, he was coming to our fox food source for a nibble.  Very interesting.  I’ve known a raccoon to come eat there, and the cardinals and crows love to feast as well on the food I leave for foxes.  What a treat!

It never occurred to me that deer also snacked on that little bit of food I put out.  I’m so glad!  Thanks be to God!  His creation is simply awesome and wonderful!

The Covid wasn’t enough.  No my sis fell and broke her hip, on top of the covid.  The hospital stay was brief, they replaced the hip, and tossed her out.  Sent her to the only skilled nursing place that would take her, and it was a pit, a nightmare, and they didn’t even have any pain meds for her. So, she’s home, and totally dependent on others to get her even to an adjacent potty chair!  I’m going to have to go over and help out this afternoon, and hopefully, some arrangements can be made for skilled nursing care, or rehabilitation help soon, because I’ve got my own physical problems to deal with, and while it’s probably manageable with increased meds, right now, I don’t have those.  Ugh.

And, since I talked her into going to that place, she will probably never take advice or suggestions from me ever again.  Ugh.  Well, such is life.  I hope and pray I can be of some help today, anyway.

It’s almost time for our 60th Anniversary, and this year, instead of going to Saratoga for the Travers Stakes and spending time with our good friend, Michael, we are stuck here at home because, guess what?  We are old now.

My wonderful husband is 83, and ailing with chronic back pain, even though he had extensive back surgery years ago.  The pain never stops.  And now, he’s also recovered from that pneumothorax last November, but has COPD, and it’s no joke.  He has medicine, and inhalers, and bravely works out three days a week.  But the driveway?  Heck, it’s long.  And while he used to go up and down with ease, now he drives to the mailbox.  He can walk downhill to it, but can’t manage to get back up.

I’ve got bad knees now, had injections recently and now can walk ok, and get up and down, but once those wear off, I’m facing the decision again, shot or surgery?  Ugh.

So, we are waiting for my son to come visit, and he’s taking us out for dinner.  Boy.  I will love that, because I love them, but I sure wish I were well enough for a four or five day visit to the races! 

I didn’t think any of us would ever really get Covid, and always thought that if we did, we would not have a big problem with it.  We could survive.  Forgetting how damn old I am, I guess.  And my sis and her husband are even older than I.

And they got it.

Last week, we had no clue to begin with…my guy of 83 had a small head cold, so I asked the pharmacist about covid tests, and he gave me 8 of them.  I thought that was a lot.  But they are almost gone.

I tested him.  No problem.  He’s got a summer cold, and COPD, too, so it was a worry.

Then my sis and husband were both sick in bed.  Well, I decided to take the tests over there, and see if that was the problem.  Ugh.  Wound up taking them both to Urgent Care, and from there to hospital for xrays, and then they got sent home to “isolate.”  OK.  So, that was Friday.  Sunday, after mass, I took my finger OX reader over, and my brother in law was up and mobile, and managing just fine.  My sis was in bed, unconscious, (he thought she was just sleeping) and the finger OX thing said her blood OX was 69-70.  Dialed 911, and the EMT’s took her to the hospital.

For a week I was running back and forth, from their house to the hospital, to my house, and trying to deal with everything masked and trying to deal with it all.  God is good.  He got me through all that, got my sis home, (although she’s not well yet, and still tested positive) and my brother in law is doing fine.  We tested negative!  After all that, all that exposure and helping out, I don’t have Covid!  🙂

Thanks be to a loving God, my helper, my motivator, my source of peace, strength and health.  May your days be as blessed as mine.  He helps me do so much more than I ever thought possible.

I’m remembering things today.  Wonder what was in those dreams last night.  Not sure.  I wasn’t thrilled about my dreams when Clover shook my arm and woke me this morning, so they must not have been good.  But I’ve been remembering all day what it feels like to go speeding down the road with the top down in the old yellow MGB.  Such pure pleasure.  The breeze through my hair, tugging on my hat and threatening to dislodge it.  The warm summer air smelling sweet, and the noises of the road, the engine, other traffic.

I think one reason it gave me such pleasure was the blasted Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  It almost got me, and God spared me.  Oh, my husband was also fighting for me, and he raised Cain with the doctor in charge of my case and got him to finally make a decision, and treat me with something, instead of just letting me die.  Things were pretty dire, I will say.  At that point, both my kidneys and liver had failed, and I was swollen and weak, in terrible pain, and had encephalitis, wild hallucinations, and  was going into a white tunnel.  I had not slept for about six days, because I couldn’t.  The pain was so intense.

Then the doc did give me a massive dose of antibiotics and I woke in the morning, when the nurse took my temperature.  I will never forget how excited she got, raced from the room waving that thermometer around and shouted, “It broke!”  And that day I swear it seems like the entire staff came to visit me.  And while I was very weak, and my hair was a matted mess, it was clear I was going to live.  It was a miracle.

And rain on my face felt like a magic blessing.  Sun shining on on my skin felt like the very touch of God Himself!  Smells, how heavenly, wind in my hair, on my face, the touch of my husbands hand!  Hugs from my family, my kids, so precious, my mom, my sis!  Miracles do happen.  I pray often for others that they feel that love.

But the car, took six weeks of recovery before I could drive.  When I could, it was just the best.  The throaty growl, the steady rhythm, the sound of the wheels, the air rushing around me!  A kid in the other seat, and I was off on a wonderful adventure, just driving.  Around the lake!  Down an unfamiliar road, a venture of discovery!  The top down, all the elements of God’s creation around me, what a thrill.

How I loved that little car.  I taught all my children to drive in MGB’s.  Four on the floor, clutch, if they could drive those, and park them, they could drive a Mack Truck, I told myself.  That lovely yellow thing got painted dark red, and given to my oldest for her sixteenth birthday.  My sweet guy got me another, a 1979, same dark red.  That one I used to teach both the other two how to drive in, and that one went to my youngest daughter, when she went off to Richmond to college.

Then, I got a VW cabriolet.  What a wonderful car that was, too.  I’ve always loved my cars.  They represent freedom like nothing else ever did.  And I still love to drive!

 

As a kid, I did nothing but sit and draw if I could.  Of course, since mom was deaf, dad was gone, and we were somewhat poor, paper was a problem.  We had some friends, actually, who ran a boarding house in downtown LaCrosse that were fairly comfortable, and indeed, that’s where my dad stayed when he first came to town, and met and married mom.  But he was long gone again, working construction in Alaska, far away, and had stopped sending money.  Anyway, one of the family members worked for an office that had tons of paper invoice stock they replaced, and I got a huge stack of invoices right before Christmas one year.

What a thrill!  Paper!  So exciting!  I could sit and draw for hours and hours and not have to worry about running out!

Other neighborhood kids were out racing around pretending to be cowboys and Indians, or Nazi’s and American soldiers and playing war, and shooting each other.  I would participate when I felt like it, but prioritized sitting around drawing.  One could draw after dark, even.

We would play pretend so well, we even held hostages in the garage, tied up, and others were charged with their rescue.  We held funerals for dead squirrels and birds, and since the grave yard wasn’t far away, we could even find small bits of good stone to use for grave markings.  There were piles of them just laying there near the swamp, as I recall, rejected by the stone cutters.

Life was so different from today.  How kids grow up now doesn’t prepare them for survival, or for reality at all.  Without a phone or other electronic device, they get bored.

I was often boring, still am, but, hey, I’m never ever bored!  I know my own brain has such stuff in it, and my brain wants more!  I’m curious!  Nosy!  And I see things art training taught me to see.

I see reflected light.  I see values, light and dark, that most folks never notice!  I see reflected colors everywhere.  All the shades of green, so many.  Painting landscape is difficult, because green is so very varied in shade, hue and value because of the way light hits it.

I wish I could find a few of my old paintings.  There were some that got hung in a real estate office that offered to share local artists work, and then shut it’s doors and went away.  I’ve lost other art as well.  My large scale plywood sculpture disintegrated and began to fall apart, and I had to take it down.  Only have one decent picture of it.  Well, maybe there are more, but I’d have to go through boxes of pictures hidden around the house, God alone knows where.  Under the basement stairs?  In the attic?  Under my bed?

Someday, I keep saying.

 

Fighting battles, carrying on arguments was never my forte.  I spent my childhood quietly listening, because I was sure if I opened my mouth in a heated discussion I would say something wrong.  I always know when I’ve said something wrong, and tend to run it through my head for days, kicking myself.

Yet the experiences I’ve had with Fidonet and also later on the internet, in forums, and facebook, I have learned that some of the best arguments are merely questions.  Properly done, a well worded question will cause someone to think.  They tend to stop their usual platitudes or ad hominins and think.

That is my goal.  I have no desire to dictate to anyone what to think.  But, making them do that difficult task is a worthy goal.  If someone adamantly does not agree with some ethic or high purpose, just telling them they are wrong, or stupid, or whatever will have no effect that you would want.

However, a well aimed question, guided by repeating some useful fact, and asking their thoughts on that may achieve that goal.

Make them think.  Make them look at their motivations, their intentions, etc., in the light of a set of facts different from those they visualize themselves.

Well, sometimes it works.  Sometimes you lose friends.  Thinking is hard, and most folks avoid that like the plague.  But, it’s worth a try if you know they need to reevaluate.

My mom always said you do no one a favor by allowing them to believe you agree with their bad decisions.