Snow Days

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Snow 2.jpgThis is the second day this week I have been home for a snow day. I consider this one of the perks of my job, getting to stay home if the weather gets bad. There’s just nothing like it. I didn’t get to do that when I worked at a bank, a newspaper, an oil company or for the U.S. government on an air force base. Even better yet, I don’t have to make that decision on whether we have school or not, I just get to participate.

Now if you can’t tell, I enjoy snow days. Being in my warm home, hanging with the dogs, cooking, piddling in my office, it’s all good. They are mental health days for me for sure. An unexpected day off without being sick or having anything planned. Just a quiet day at home to rest, relax, cook, do laundry or not do laundry, shower or not shower. You get the point.

When I left work on Tuesday, it was the consensus that we could be out two days if everything the National Weather Service was telling us came true. Of course this is Oklahoma and you just never really know what the weather will do. My weather app on my phone was telling us one thing and the National Weather Service in Norman was telling us something else. Their outlook was far graver than what the app on my phone was saying. Alas my boss listened to the National Weather Service and our local emergency management center and my school and most schools in the state took off on Wednesday. Always better to err on the side of caution. FYI, my cell phone app was more correct than the National Weather Service for Wednesday.

So Wednesday morning I’m up and bracing for what weather is supposed to come our way. Well I need to get to Walmart and pick up a few things. I feel like cooking a couple of meals. Sometimes I actually enjoy being a housewife. I arrive at Walmart at about 10 a.m., it’s cold outside with some rain, but it’s still quite a bit above freezing so no weather yet. I get into Walmart and apparently everyone else had the same idea I did. Take a deep breath Marcy and just take your time. I began to notice a lot of children at Walmart. And why aren’t these kids in school I wondered. Oh yea, snow day. Duh. I work my way through the store, get my few items, trudge back out through the rain, load the car and home I go. I am now officially ready for weather to arrive. Well it didn’t arrive until much later in the afternoon, but when it did, WOW.

I got all caught up on my DVR watching, did a little house cleaning and at 3 I cracked open a bottle of wine and began to make a big pot of soup. Since wine and I haven’t gotten along much since my surgery, it was a risk. I am pleased to say that the small glass I had did not give me a headache and made cooking much more enjoyable. By the time Keith got home, it was sleeting and I felt pretty sure that I was going to get a call from the boss that we would be out on Thursday as well AND I DID! Woohoo – snow day #2.

Had a great dinner with my awesome husband, we watched Justified and then caught two episodes of House of Cards season 3. OMG. I am hooked on House of Cards. I can’t get enough. I think I will have to dedicate a blog to Frank and Claire in the near future. Well it’s time to go to bed and get ready to enjoy snow day #2. I decided to take a peak outside and see what was happening. Somewhere between Justified and House of Cards, the sky dumped a whole bunch of snow. You couldn’t even see where our yard stopped and the street began. It was beautiful and so quiet and snow continued to fall. I stepped out onto the back patio and took a picture of the beautiful untouched twinkling snow in our yard. Next thing I know, there are two Cavaliers in the snow and it is no longer untouched and there are two little areas that are now yellow, if you know what I mean…. AND they are covered in snow when they come in. Time to go find the dog towel.

Snow day #2 has been just as pleasant. However, today I’m thinking about what I need to get done at work tomorrow. There’s always a down side to being off unexpectedly for a couple of days.   The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky and my weather app says it is 39 degrees outside. The snow on the streets is gone and hopefully this was the last blast of winter for this year. I am so ready for spring. A little after noon I get a call from Keith. He wants to know if I feel guilty being off on such a beautiful day. My response: NO.

Bluebonnet 2

I am ready for spring.

Long live snow days, but I’ve had enough for one year.

I Can Start Running Again!

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Running GearIt has been 14 weeks since my surgery and I am so ready to be normal again. I hope normal is an option. But maybe I am actually shooting for normal plus. Yes, let’s say I’m shooting for normal plus. I had my three month post-op appointment in Houston a week ago and saw neither of my surgeons. Bummer. One was not going to be there and had to cancel his portion of my appointment and the other one got called into emergency surgery. I still had the MRI and the hearing test and both were fine. Nothing has grown back according to the MRI [awesome news] and my hearing is no worse than before the surgery. I can live with that for now.

What I really wanted from that appointment was for my surgeons to brag on how wonderful I was doing and that my life could get back to normal. I wanted them to see what a great job they did. Instead, my ENT surgeon’s resident met with me. Now I could have hung around in Houston for several more hours until Dr. Gidley got out of his emergency surgery but I knew I was ok.  I didn’t need my surgeons to tell me that.  Besides, a girl does have her priorities.  I had a hot date with my husband to go dancing.

I have been really anxious to get back to running so I asked the question to the young resident. Can I start running again? He told me I could definitely start back, just to take it slow. No worries there. Slow and easy is my thing. I have put back on all the weight I had worked so hard to lose two years ago, so I am essentially starting over yet again. I am ok with that too.

The first thing I did when we got home was to reload the “From Coach Potato to 5K” app back onto my iPhone. I remember so well the first time I used it three years ago. Keith and I had participated in the A2A 5K here in Ardmore in 2011 and I literally walked 90% of it. I had never run before and had never trained to run. I had no expectations and we were only participating because Keith’s employer had encouraged all their employees to be a part of the event. So we did. After that we both kind of got the running bug and decided that we would be better prepared for the next year.

This is where my little 5K Runner app came in. Keith got us a home treadmill and everything. We really didn’t have room for it, but we crammed it into the little third bedroom Keith was using for an office. This cute little app starts you off with a 5 minute warm up and ends with a 5 minute cool down. In the middle, you learn how to run. The first time it has you run, you run for an entire minute! Do you know how hard that was for me? That one minute seemed like an eternity and I was breathing like a freight train. I will never be able to do this. My thighs were screaming and I was getting shin splints.

Somehow I got through those three days of one minute runs and then it got jacked up to 1 ½ minute running intervals. Again I would tell myself, I can’t do this! I remember the day I knew I was going to have to run for 2 entire minutes. I told Keith, “I can’t run for two minutes.” He just looked at me and smiled. He’s a machine and was already running his three miles pretty effortlessly. Let’s just say it’s easier for men can we? Little by little I continued to work the program and when I participated in the A2A 5K in 2012, I cut six minutes off of my first years’ time. The next year, I ran the entire thing. I did not set any land speed records, but I ran the entire thing. I had reached my weight loss goal and was feeling pretty good.

Now here’s where life and excuses come into play. Shortly after the 2013 A2A I found out that I have three bulging disks in my neck with bone spurs. My doctor told me to quit running. He said it was the worst thing I could do. I was so bummed. I had worked so hard and it was something I was really learning to enjoy. Of course this is also the period of time when my dad’s health was not great and things with him were consuming me. So for the next couple of years, my exercising was spotty and pretty inconsistent. In July of 2014 I rededicated myself to starting over with my health and in September I found out I had a brain tumor. The violins are playing very loudly here. Can you hear them too?

So once again I am starting over. My intentions are always good, it’s just the follow through. I can think of it like getting over an addiction, one day at a time. Oh and this week I heard on the news that sugar is as addictive as cocaine. Well it really was hard for me to not eat that hot roll and Santa Fe Steak House last night, so I ate it. Let me stop thinking about that hot roll and get back to my point, which is starting over.

So last Saturday I got out the shoes, got my iPhone, plugged in my tunes, turned on my 5K Runner app and I went out into a beautiful 53 degree sun shiny day and headed for the trails by my house. It was awesome. I did my five minute warm up like I was instructed and then my app told me to begin running. Yes, here we go. I started off [very slowly of course] and wasn’t even thinking about it. I had some good tunes on and I was looking at the scenery and I no more got started that my app told me to “slow down and walk”. Had it been a minute already. I’m not even out of breath. What is the deal? This went on for about 20 minutes; walk 2 minutes and run 1 minute. When I was done with the day one workout I was shocked. I hadn’t even gotten out of breath. That one minute seemed like 15 seconds. Maybe I haven’t lost everything I had worked so hard to achieve prior to my surgery. Yippee.

Since last Saturday the weather has been crappy and my training has been taken up into the bonus room where my old friend the treadmill sits proudly. She and I have met several times this week for my one minute bouts of running. This morning however, I began week two on the app and had to run 1 ½ minute intervals and I did it without collapsing. So exciting. Maybe the following week I will be at the 2 minute run interval. I know at some point it will get harder and I can’t wait.

I continue to move from normal to attain normal plus.  Next step?  Getting my hair color fixed!   I long for the smell of hair dye and to kiss this dishwater blonde hair goodbye.  I just have to hang on one more week .

Not My Usual Valentine’s Day

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Blog Shawn

Valentine’s Day has been little different for me this year. I spent it alone and no you do not hear violins playing sad music in the background. This year I am sharing my Valentine as he heads to Texas to check on in his parents. He has a three day weekend, I do not. Since every day is Valentine’s Day at our house, I don’t mind sharing him with a couple of wonderful people. He did get me an awesome card that said wonderful things. My husband has learned how to really pick out a card. I would like to think that my daughter and I have taught him that. When she and I pick out cards for each other, we keep looking at cards until the words bring tears to our eyes. BAM, that’s the card.

So I give Keith smooches and out the door he goes at 7:50 this morning headed south. Today I will be my own valentine and will have fun just doing whatever I want to. Maybe I’ll shower, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go outside, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll cook myself a gourmet meal, maybe I won’t. The possibilities are endless.

I think it is important however to begin my very special day with something routine: big cup of coffee, heat wrap on my neck, and most importantly, dogs in my lap. Now that is the way to start my day. Since I’m not moving very quickly yet, maybe I need to watch something I have TVO’d. OMG. Project Runway All Stars finale! I almost forgot. I can’t start my day until I see who wins…and I’m ok with who won.

Well I think maybe I should take a shower because I am planning on going out in public. In fact, I am going to go have a pedicure. My toes have not seen new nail polish in 6 months. Hate to admit that but it’s true. I thought about going and getting them done three months ago before my surgery but I just ran out of time.

Into the nail salon I go and boy there sure are a lot of people already in here at 10 am in the morning. I pick out a shocking pink color and head for the chair. As my toes are becoming beautiful again, I notice all the young moms coming in with their 4, 5 and 6 year old daughters to get pedicures together. I would have given anything to have been able to do that with my daughter when she was that age, but sadly, I couldn’t afford it. Now if you listen carefully, I think you can hear the violins playing sad music this time. To my right was a very nice woman probably a little younger than me whose husband brought her in for a pedicure for Valentine’s Day. Awe, how sweet. He didn’t even tell her what was going on, he just brought her in. She told me it was only the second pedicure she has had in her entire life. She was fun to watch when they were scrubbing all the dead skin off the bottom of her feet.

So now my toes look awesome and it’s time for my next adventure, Walmart. Now why do you suppose I would use the word “adventure” when talking about a trip to Walmart? I am trying to be positive here. In addition to being Saturday in small town America, it is also payday weekend, so I know I may be in for a bit of everything times four. I just hope I still have a good attitude when I get out of there. I have my list so I won’t be just wondering aimlessly, unless they have decided to rearrange the store since my last visit. OK, let’s look at the list, Tylenol [my new best friend], face wash, toothpaste, mascara [that won’t flake off into my eyes]….. Got it. Now that wasn’t took bad, let’s drift over into the grocery area.

I have decided to cook myself something fun on Sunday, a broccoli and mushroom quiche. I just have to pick up a few ingredients and then I’m done. Now we all know not to go to the grocery store when we are hungry but that is exactly what I am doing. Everything looks good and I am make a few poor choices, but hey, it’s my weekend right? Now to check out.

Today they had plenty of checkers and I was next in line with the one I selected. I’m almost out. I stand there for a few minutes waiting for enough space to open up on the checkout belt and I’m just kind of looking around. Zoned out really when something brings my attention back. My checker and the guy she is checking out are just chatting and having a wonderful conversation. They are talking about their jobs, he is telling her how much he makes ….. then he says to her, “You are really very unique.” She agrees with him and their conversation continues. Now for those of you who think he is trying to pick her up, I don’t think so. He is about as red neck country as he could be with a big wad of chew in his mouth, weighs about 300 pounds and his 300 pounds is spilling out all over the top of his pants. My little check out girl has gothy black hair, piercings in her face and scary eye makeup.  But hey, it is Saturday at my local Walmart.

The checkout process continues in between their conversation and then I notice that periodically she scans an item and I hear him say, “No that ain’t the right price. That’s on sale.” Now if I were the little checker girl, I think I would have to verify that. Not her, she just takes his word for it, enters the price he tells her to and moves to the next item. I feel like I’m on candid camera, so I just keep my mouth shut. Can you see my attitude changing? I need to take a few deep breaths. I am almost out of there….

OK home from Walmart and I need to eat before I pass out. I think I will have something healthy like spinach dip and multi-grain chips. Well some of it sounds healthy right? After a brief rest because that’s what I seem to need to do these days, I decide to go to the cemetery and put some springy decorations at my parent’s grave site. This is something I never thought I would do, but it’s interesting after you bury both of your parents, you find yourself a little more open minded to it. I had bought some cute little garden decorations at Hobby Lobby last weekend and all I could think was that my mom would love it. Of course this trip made me a bit weepy, but that’s ok. No better time to honor my very first Valentine, my dad and his valentine, my mom.

Well I’m back home now and the dogs and I are out on the back patio enjoying this beautiful day, fresh air and the fireplace. Not sure what else I have in store for myself, but I’m thinking a few episodes of House of Cards, some HGTV and maybe a glass of wine. Tomorrow our weekend will continue with lots of laundry, my EFM reading and I may play beauty shop with the dogs.

Happy Valentine’s Day all.

33 Years Ago – An Amazing Thing Happened

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Me and LoniToday is my daughter’s 33rd birthday.  I know she is cringing at the thought of that and so am I!  So today I am running my blog again from last year when she turned 32.  Sentiment is still the same.  I love you Loni bunny!

Enjoy!

Today is my daughter’s birthday.  Each year on this day, February 6, I seem to spend a lot of time thinking about our relationship.  You see my daughter has been more than just a daughter.  Without even knowing it, she was my rock and the one person who got me through some very difficult times, just by being there. It began 32 years ago at 9:48 a.m., on a cold snowy day in Oklahoma City.  Oddly enough, it is a cold and snowy day today too as I head for Dallas to board a plane to go and visit her.  In 1982, I was a scared 22 year old about to become a mother and be responsible for someone else’s life.  I had no idea what to expect and then there she was. She didn’t even come into the world as I had expected.  Every movie and every TV show I had seen where babies had been born, they all came into the world angry and screaming. Not my daughter.  She entered the world quietly with those big blue eyes and little round face.  She was placed into my arms and from that moment, she had my heart and my soul.  Nothing else mattered. She was born 8 months after her dad and I married.  Nothing like finding out one month after your married that you are two months pregnant.  For the record, I don’t recommend it.  Those eight months were difficult.  My marriage was rocky and I wasn’t even sure her dad and I would still be together when she got here.  From the start we were glued at the hip.  Her dad was afraid to do much with her at first.  You know the whole “she might cry” thing, and he certainly wasn’t going to change a diaper.  And you know, he never did.  If I went to the grocery store, she went to the grocery store.  When it was laundry day, I packed her up we went to the laundry mat. Not long after her ninth birthday, her dad and I decided to split up and we moved back to my home town to be near my parents.  I was now a single mother of a 9 year old and a 3 year old.  She took it in stride as we began our new adventure.  She made friends quickly and she loved living in the same town with my parents.  I always say that my dad was kind of like her dad too.  We shared him and he loved it. Three years after my divorce and I met someone and was going to marry him.  She told me I should not marry him and I should have listened to her.  But what does a 12 year old know.  A lot apparently.  The next five years were very difficult for us both.  She was unhappy and I was unhappy.  We refer to that period of time as “that five year period of time we don’t talk about”, and we don’t.  That’s an entire blog in itself.  Maybe someday. When I finally got the guts to get out of the so-called marriage, I got my girl back and we never looked back again.  We have continued to grow closer as we age.  I can absolutely call her my best girl friend in the whole  world. She was even my matron of honor at my wedding to Keith. That one she did approve of, even if I did meet him online. I am blessed that we get to talk on the phone many times a day, we can send pictures and text messages and we have Face Time and when I’m really lucky, I get to see her in person, like today. She is married now with a wonderful little family of her own, 5 year old Max, 2 year old Molly and her wonderful husband Charles.  It was my honor to be with her and Charles in the delivery room for the birth of both Max and Molly, something I will always hold very dear in my heart.  I am blessed to have her as my daughter and I love her more than words can ever say.  She and Charles are going to get away for a few days and I will get to spend three whole days with Max and Molly.  Some interesting blogs could come from this.  We’ll see.  I love you Loni Bunny .

Just a little bling, or is it something else?

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Mom & DadI had a realization this week while getting ready for work. I had taken my rings off to put on some hand lotion. As I was putting them back on a thought crossed my mind. It suddenly occurred to me that I was viewing these three rings as symbols of something. They weren’t just pretty on my hands, they meant something. These three rings were my wedding ring, my mother’s wedding ring and my dad’s wedding ring.

It got me to thinking about how pieces of jewelry have affected me over the span of my lifetime. I remember in junior high that when you had a boyfriend, he would buy you an ID bracelet with his name on it or a bracelet with your name on it with his profession of love for you on the back. How vividly I remember those times. You know when you are junior high and a boy likes you, it turns your whole world upside down. I wonder what ever happened to those bracelets?

In high school the jewelry changed to an item called a “drop”. Who makes up this stuff? Anyway, a “drop” was on a chain and was an item that was created with your boyfriend’s initials on it. If you were going steady with a guy, you were honored to wear his “drop”. I had a boyfriend during this time. In fact it was the same one who had to buy me the bracelet in junior high. But he didn’t have a “drop” and I can recall badgering him to “get me a drop”. Hey, I wanted to be like all the other girls who had boyfriends. Isn’t that what high school is all about, fitting in? Well he finally put a “drop” around my neck, but as I recall, we didn’t last too much longer. Maybe I was a little too pushy. In fact, my mother told me years later that I could be a bit “overbearing.” Can you believe that? My own mother. Well she was right, as she usually was. I was a spoiled little girl who was used to getting her way. So I apologize to my junior high/high school boyfriend for being so overbearing. You were a nice guy.

Now the latter half of high school there was the “class ring” thing and many times the boyfriend would put his class ring on a chain for his girl to wear or wrap wads of tape around it to fit your finger. If you were walking around with a class ring hanging from a chain or on your finger, it was pretty powerful. The only problem with both the drop and the class ring, when you broke up, you had to give them back and that was difficult if the breakup wasn’t your idea.

Then there was the “promise” ring. Remember those? I had two from two different guys. Not sure what they were “promising” me though. I remember going to Drakes jewelry store with my then boyfriend to look at promise rings. We were seniors in high school and I think he got it for me for Christmas or my birthday. I can recall his mother being “less than thrilled.” It was a little gold band with a diamond “flake”. Yes, I can call it a “flake” because it was so tiny but I loved it. So what was he promising me? To love me forever? To marry me some day? To break my heart? To move on without me? Good question. I moved on without him….. The second promise ring came during my freshman year of college and it came from the guy that I had moved on with….. then he moved on without me. I still have this little ring and I turned it into a pinky ring. In fact, when my daughter was 4, she wore it when she had her four year old portrait taken. How fun is that?

I went on for a couple of years without any significant jewelry from a guy until I got married in 1981.   I don’t know that I could call it significant, it was just a gold wedding band. No engagement ring. In fact, there was not even any mention of getting me an engagement ring. Now this was an entirely new twist for me. I usually insisted on things (so my mother tells me). But I had not pitched a fit, carried on or insisted on an engagement ring. The simple gold band around my ring finger was all I needed. I apparently had lost my mind. Over the course of that 9 years, 9 months and 20 days or so, I wore that ring with a plethora of emotions. I loved this man, but I was never very sure from day to day, week to week, just how much he loved me. I had two children with this man, which were the best things to come out of that marriage. I wore that ring every day, it meant something to me. Him, well he wore his ring at first and then it conveniently got lost. Then he asked me to buy him a new one and seems like that one got lost too. I remember that it took me several days after a judge granted the divorce for me to officially take that ring off. I had such high hopes when I got married. I was not that same little spoiled girl my mother talked to me about and yet here I was divorced. Taking that ring off, I felt like a complete failure to myself and to my children. Yet in reality, I had very little to do with that failure.

Two short years later I put on another wedding ring, but should not have. This ring I already owned. The new man didn’t even care enough to put an engagement ring or “new” wedding ring on my finger. But that’s ok because there were too many things wrong with this scenario to elaborate. Besides, it’s that five year period of time I don’t discuss very much. This ring had no trouble coming off my finger and I no longer have it in my possession.

So back to my three very special rings. Nine years later, the love of my life and now husband got down on one knee inside of a horse drawn carriage in downtown Oklahoma City, proposed and put a beautiful diamond “engagement” ring on my finger. That’s right, an actual diamond. The most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen from the most beautiful man. Now that’s how you show a girl you love her. The following year he added a wedding ring to it and every day when I look at that ring, I am proud to wear it and am proud to be his wife.

So that takes me to the other couple I knew who were deeply in love and committed to each other for 60 years, my parents Lonie and Margarett. Over the past few years, I have lost them both and it’s been very difficult. They were always such big influences in my life and their unconditional love of me and my children kept me going on days I wasn’t sure I could keep going. I now have both of their wedding rings and I wear them on my hands each day. It is my constant reminder of how much they loved me and how much I love them. Seems silly I know, but it helps me to feel close to them. They are never far from my mind and my memories of them are strong in my heart.

So to answer the question “bling” or “something else”? For me it’s “something else.”

Eight Weeks Post-Op

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Shoes 2Well it’s been eight weeks since my little surgery and I’m plodding along. I have been back at work for two full weeks and that has been great. All that sitting at home recovering was beginning to turn my brain into mush. Sitting too long made my neck and head hurt. Oh heck, everything makes my neck and head hurt to a degree. I think it may be the new normal for a while. The first day back in the office was weird, but after that I felt like I had never been gone. I’m sure being away from a person’s job for seven weeks makes it difficult for anyone to just jump right back in, but add the additional issue of brain surgery and it kind of takes on a whole new meaning.

One of the things that is recommended for people who have had this surgery is to walk, a lot. It helps with the balance and dizziness. I did a really good job of this initially when I got home. I was outside walking through the neighborhood the very week I got home. The weather was great and I was VERY woozy. In fact it was scary because things were not in great focus and I could not move my head very far or very quickly. But I made myself do it. Then icky weather arrived and the cold air makes my head hurt so I went outside less and less to walk. I do have a treadmill upstairs, but didn’t go up there and use it. And now that I’m back at work, I have even less time to walk. Don’t you love excuses? I know I do.

So yesterday the weather in southern Oklahoma was finally better. The temperature in the low 60’s by the afternoon. A brisk southwesterly wind initially and the sun was shining. Haven’t seen much of the sun around here for a while and it was a welcome sight. So yesterday morning I made yet another commitment to myself to get my butt up and out the door for a nice walk. Take in a little fresh air and get some vitamin D. I had not ventured out of my neighborhood to walk since the surgery, so today was the day.

I got to digging around in my closet and found my workout clothes. Yes they were right where I left them months ago. So I bundled up, got my ear buds, my cell phone, my sunglasses and something to cover my ears and out the door I went. Today’s challenge: Regional Park! With my Fitbit all charged up I went to my Fitbit App and told it to log my walk and off I went. I rounded the corner of my house and the southwest wind hit me. Whew, it’s a little chilly, but I shall persevere. I headed south out of my neighborhood, crossed behind the AHS girls’ softball field and there I was on the city’s walking trail headed for Regional Park. Continued south at Veterans Boulevard, crossed Commerce, worked my way passed Skateland and Daylight Donuts and there it was just around the bend, Regional Park. It has been months since I had been in the park and I have missed it. Now it’s time to put on some tunes, which of course have the perfect walking beat and help me put a little spring in my step.

I am officially in the park and my Fitbit App tells me I have already gone a mile. Whooohooo. So how far should I go? I could just walk up to the skate park and then go back home. I could walk up to the softball fields and then go home. I could go through the woods over by the pavilion OR I could go all the way to the top of the walking trail. Since we moved to our new house last summer, I have never gone from our house to the top of the walking trail and back and I wasn’t completely sure how far that was. But you know, today was the day to find out.

The first part of the adventure is downhill, piece of cake. Then you get to the bottom of the hill at the skate park and it’s uphill for a bit. A good bit actually. I could feel every muscle in my body engaging. I kept telling myself to breath, that always helps. So just about the time I got to the pavilion, my Fitbit tells me I have walked two miles. Well ok. My favorite part of the park is walking through the heavily wooded trail behind the pavilion. It’s beautiful and peaceful. I love listening to the wind blow through the trees, when I don’t have my earbuds in that is. Today I’m stepping to Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Flo Rida, Cee Lo Green, Psy, Usher, LMFAO, Foo Fighters and Rihanna. An eclectic group of songs I think all motivating me to keep moving.

Since balance is an issue, this particular walking trail is perfect, because it’s hilly and uneven. There are times when the path gently slopes. Makes me really work hard on the uneven surface with my uneven balance. I am fast approaching the top of the walking trail when my Fitbit tells me I have gone three miles. Wow. Do you know what that means? It means that I am three miles away from home and I still have to turn around and get home. Yep, by the time I had gotten home, I had traversed 6.07 miles eight weeks after brain surgery. That is the farthest I have ever walked at one time. By the time I went to bed, my Fitbit said I had taken 17,000 steps. Well it was 16,984 when I crawled into bed so I got up and walked to the kitchen and back so it would officially be 17,000.

So this morning, as you can imagine, my feet hurt and most every muscle from my waist down hurts. But it’s a good hurt. My pinky toenail lacerated its neighboring toe so I also have that to contend with today. Nothing a Band-Aid can’t solve. So enough whining already. I laced up my shoes again this afternoon, headed out but only for a 3 mile adventure this time. For all my Acoustic Neuroma warriors out there, hang in there. You can do it and it does get easier every day.

Peace be with you.

I Love Dogs

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King 2013Rarely has there been a time in my life when I was not the proud human parent of a dog or dogs. They bring me absolute joy and I can’t imagine my life without a dog in it. My parents started me off on this journey when they got me my first dog at the age of 18 months and I had that dog until I was 14. Dogs have come and gone out of my life over the years and a few have been extra special. In 2011, I lost my precious Westie, Rylee Jo Lynn, after a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her and I’m still shedding tears because I miss her adorable little face and spunky attitude. She was one of those dogs in my life that made an imprint on my soul. I was devastated when I finally had to let her go and getting another dog seemed like something I would never be able to do again. Alas, my husband thought the perfect solution was to get another dog quickly. Not ready to consider it, I put him off.Rylee

I had Rylee when Keith and I met so we were a package deal. I am very proud to say that Keith fell in love with her too. Months before we lost Rylee, we knew our time with her was limited. Knowing that in time we would want to get another dog, we didn’t know what kind of dog. While I loved my little Westie, I could not bear to get another one. Even now when I see one somewhere, all I can think about is Rylee. She was just so special that I could not replace her with another one. So our search was on. We started by thinking about what attributes we wanted in a dog. I wanted something small, but not too small. Something that could travel with us, something that I could cuddle with and something that would sit in my lap. We both wanted a dog with a good temperament, non aggressive, fun loving and gentle. Tall order huh?

That summer we went on vacation in Colorado. One of the days we were out looking at the sites, we visited Seven Falls. We took the elevator up to the top to look out over the area. When we arrived onto the observation deck there was a couple with a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. I had never seen one in real life. I walked over to the owners and asked if I could pet their dog. While I was petting the dog, the owner proceeded to tell me what wonderful dogs that Cavaliers are. Keith quickly noticed and he came over as well. A light bulb went off in our minds and in our hearts. Our dog research now included the Cavalier.

When we got home we started looking up the specifics of the King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. According to our research: The most beloved characteristic of Cavaliers is their sweet, kissable, and delightful temperament. They are playful, extremely patient and eager to please. Great with people of all ages and are the essential “lap dog”.  Sounds like the perfect breed for us! So by the time Rylee had passed, we had decided our next dog would be a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.

About a month after Rylee’s passing, I told Keith I might be willing to consider getting another dog. Maybe it would help. Now where in the world would we find this dog? We knew no one in our town that had one. In fact, the only one I had ever seen outside of the AKC dog show on TV each year was that one in Colorado. Of course you can find anything on the Internet. We did some research and found a woman who bred them in Edmond. We went up and visited her and her dogs and just did not feel comfortable with her situation and I’ll leave it at that. We kept looking and found a breeder in Cleburne, Texas, three hours south of Ardmore. We contacted him and scheduled a visit to “look” only.

20140530-163644-59804379.jpgWe arrived at Cavaliers of Castlemar and the breeder took us to the kennel where he had current puppies. It was a fantastic facility that was clean, had places to sit and visit and had no bad smells. Through my research I knew I wanted a little girl and that of the four colors of the Cavalier, she needed to be the tri-color [black, tan and white]. There were probably 10 puppies and a few of them were tri-color girls. The owner pointed them out to me and one took my heart. I picked her up and just held her. What a feeling. She cuddled up and kissed me and I was in love. I looked at Keith and he knew, I had found my new baby. However, my baby was only five weeks old and not ready to go home with us. That didn’t stop me from staking my claim on her and returning when she hit eight weeks.

As we sat there in the middle of all these puppies and one very special little girl, Keith asked the breeder his opinion about having two puppies at the same time. One of the things we had discovered in our research was that Cavaliers don’t like to be alone for long periods of time. We both worked so any dog we get would be alone all day while we were at work. Now the wheels in my head began to spin. Was Keith really considering two dogs? Two puppies? Has he lost his mind? Who is this man? I finally looked at him and said, “Are you really considering two dogs?” “Yes.” He replied. OMG!

Well I have my baby, now Keith needs to find his baby. He wanted a little boy and he wanted the Blenheim color [which is a white background with chestnut brown markings]. The Blenheim cavalier is the most popular color and the one that is seen the most often. Within just a few short minutes, Keith had lost his heart over an adorable little Blenheim boy, who was 10 days older than my little girl. Again, not ready to go home with us, but we staked our claim on him too. We left there with the follow up appointment to come back in three weeks and bring our babies home.

Well here we are three years later and I cannot tell you how ingrained into our lives these two little dogs are. Shawn and Maggie are our fur babies and we are just silly over them. They are indeed sweet and kissable with delightful temperaments and are lap dogs. I gravitate into the recliner every morning with my cup of coffee and within seconds I am covered in dogs, just the way I like it. If I sit down anywhere, they think they must sit with me and do.

They have very different personalities, which is fun. While Shawn is every bit the Shawn“whussy” dog, he is the alpha dog between the two. If you pick him up wrong, he cries but if something as dangerous as the “Roomba” is loose in your house, he’s on it. If Maggie walks out onto the patio and sends a warning bark, he runs out in his bad boy stance to see what’s up. Never fear Maggie, I’m here. He runs faster than the wind and he’s hilarious when he wants to play. He doesn’t want Maggie to get any attention that he is not getting and if you are petting her, he will put himself between her and you. Essentially getting her out of the way. He has a way of walking in and sweeping his backside that pushes Maggie out of the way. When I am not home, he gathers my shoes into a pile and lays with them all day. If he can’t get one of my shoes, then an article of clothing will do. Sometimes he decides that the shoe or the article of clothing needs to go out the dog door into the backyard. I have a running shoe out there right now that I need to go retrieve. But as I’m writing this, they are both sitting with me snoozing.

MaggieNow there’s my little angel, Maggie. She has the same little brown eyes that my Rylee Jo Lynn had and sometimes when I look into Maggie’s eyes, I see Rylee. I find comfort in that. When Maggie looks at you, she is looking into your very soul. Her favorite thing to do is sit in my lap and while I’m home recovering from this surgery, she is spending lots of time there. There is not an alpha bone in her body. Her favorite pose is lying flat on her back in the “pet my tummy” position. We find her there every time we go into our walk in closet, on her back, in the position. No one can resist it, especially me. But caution, if you are down there rubbing her tummy and Shawn sees it, he will come over, whip around and sit on her so you can’t rub her tummy any more. He’s not jealous at all. While Shawn likes to lord over my shoes, Maggie’s bad habit is paper shredding. If we leave the bathroom wastebasket within her reach, she will take out whatever tissues are in there and shred them. Or, if you leave paper towels or toilette paper within either of their reaches, they will take them outside and toilette paper your yard. I can’t tell you how many times that happened at our old house before I learned my lesson.

So my love of dogs continues. Someday I will have to say goodbye to Shawn and Maggie too, but I can’t think about that now. I am just going to enjoy every day and every experience with my two little angels. We just returned from our latest adventure where we all packed up and went to Little Rock for Christmas! Shawn and Maggie had a great time in Pug Nation visiting and playing with their oing to see their friends the Milligan pugs: Roxie, Conan and Zeppelin. Yes, it will be a five dog Christmas and I wouldn’t have it any other way.Dogs

The Many Faces of Bravery

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Fog at DuskBravery comes in many different flavors, colors and layers. In recent weeks, I have come to reflect on and recognize some specific things that I consider acts of bravery.

When I was in Houston four weeks ago for my surgery, I was pretty focused on myself and just getting it done and getting home. The last day we were there, I got to go to the MD Anderson beauty shop and have my hair washed and dried. As Keith and I worked our way down to the beauty shop, we passed lots of people in various stages of cancer treatment. When we got to the waiting room, I was about 6th down the list so I waited and watched ladies come and go to get something done with their hair too. As we were leaving I looked into Keith’s eyes and said, “I hope I don’t ever get cancer, I don’t think I’m tough enough to go through the treatment. I have only been here five days and I’m sick of feeling bad.” Forgetting momentarily that HE went through a very difficult treatment himself, he responded with, “You do what you have to do.” That took me right back to five years ago when I was the caregiver and he was the patient. I remember how hard I thought it was for him, but I understand now that I really had no comprehension for how difficult it was. My husband will continue to be one of the bravest people I know for enduring that treatment and coming out on the other side healthy, happy and still in love with me. I am honored to be his wife each and every day.

We have all known people who are battling or have battled some major disease. Some of these people we love made it and some did not.  Let me tell you about three of my favorite ladies who did not make it but they are never very far from my mind and each very brave.

In 1996 I took the job I have now as the administrative assistant for the superintendent of schools for my local school district. It is the school district that I attended all 12 years and the school district that my children also graduated from. I am a proud Ardmore Tiger. I had never worked for a school system before. I had worked for the federal government, a newspaper, a retailer and an oil company. But if you have good skills as a secretary, you can be an asset anywhere. Across the hall from me was a woman by the name of Brenda Rickard. Tall, beautiful, bubbly, smart and my new friend. She was the person that did public relations for my school district. I really didn’t know what that meant, but that’s was she did. In 1999 we got a new superintendent and things got shook up around the office and Brenda eventually became the assistant superintendent. Her office was now right next to mine. We could now talk every day and I could learn from her. Her position as PR person was not filled so she started teaching me what she knew about school PR. Brenda thought I would be great at helping in this area and I quickly grew to love it. Of course my main job was still the superintendent’s administrative assistant so there wasn’t a lot of time to spend on PR, but it was never far from my mind. I had the privilege of working with Brenda for several years before she took a superintendent’s job in Texas. I can still remember the day she called me and told me she had breast cancer. I felt an absolute terror run through me and cried all the way home in the car. She fought very bravely for years, but lost her battle a few short years ago. Today I fight even harder to get good information about my school district out to the public. I am passionate about it and it is completely because of a wonderful woman. Thank you Brenda. You are still mentoring me today.

In 1981 I met a woman that would become my mother in law, Diane Swim. We became fast friends and I loved her dearly.   She was only 14 years older than me so even though she was technically my mother in law, she really felt like an older sister. We would talk about all kinds of things and there were some things that she shared with me that her own son did not even know. I felt honored that she loved me enough to trust me with that information.

She was very talented and creative. When I met her she was into ceramics and she created some of the most beautiful ceramic pieces I had ever seen, some I still have today. Whatever the holiday was, she had something decorative for it. We also loved to go antique shopping together. She could take old pieces of anything and make it awesome. I credit her for my ability to decorate my own house, because she taught me how. In my twenties I would sit in her kitchen and watch her cook big family meals. She had it down to a science and was cleaning the kitchen as she went. By the time you were ready to eat, the kitchen did not look like a bomb had gone off. Years later I have noticed that I do the same thing. Christmas was her favorite holiday and every room in her house was decorated. I remember the year she had a big tree in the living room and another tree in her dining room. How fun I thought. She would have us all over to make Christmas cookies. I had never done that before and it quickly became a tradition in the family, which her daughter continues to this day. I cannot get through any Christmas without thinking about her. Ten years after we met, I divorced her son, but I did not divorce her. We continued to remain friends and confidants for years. Diane too was diagnosed with cancer and she battled it quietly and bravely for years. We all had to say goodbye to her just four short years ago. Thank you Diane for being my friend and loving me. You taught me so many things over the years and you will always be a light in my soul.

How do I even begin to tell you about my mom, Margarett Haralson? There’s not enough space on the Internet or paper on the earth to tell you everything. My mom taught me many things very quietly. As a child, I idolized my dad. He could absolutely do no wrong. I was probably quite a bit like him. After I became a wife and mother, I began to notice a shift. I was becoming more like my mother and that was not a bad thing. She was patient and kind. I cannot recall her ever speaking ill will towards anyone, a trait I’m still working on. Unconditional love, that was my mom and now that I’m a mom, I understand. You may not always like what your children are doing, but you always love them. I know there were times in my life when she did not like what I was doing and thought I had lost my mind, which I probably had. She never made any judgments, but was always there in support whenever I needed it.

In 1994 she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. My mom was real good at hiding just how bad she felt. She was on various medications for her Parkinson’s but the medication never lasted long enough. She continued working until around 2002 when she just finally had to give it up. We began to discover that we had to plan events around her medication when she would have her “on” periods and the “on” periods got shorter and shorter. She was on all the medication she could be on and nothing really seemed to work for very long. But again, she was great at hiding it.

In 2007 her neurologist suggested she see a surgeon in Dallas about having surgery to implant a stimulator to help control her Parkinson’s. So here’s my 77 year old mother contemplating brain stimulator surgery!   My dad kept talking to her about having the surgery as if it would cure her. I kept having to remind him that the surgery would not cure anything, but the hope was that it would make her quality of life better. I’m not sure my dad ever understood that. Mom decided to have the surgery so on February 14, 2007 we went to Dallas and she had surgery. I would love to tell you that it made a huge difference for the better, but alas it really didn’t. In fact, it created new problems and the last two and a half years of her life were very difficult for her and my dad. It just broke my heart. In August of 2009 she took her last breath and heaven got one more angel.

So here I was four short weeks ago getting ready to have brain surgery when my thoughts drifted back to my mom. She had brain surgery at 77 years old. How brave was that? If she could do it surely I could do it. As we were walking to the surgery center that morning, that was my mantra. Holding my hand for that long walk was my survivor husband and whispering to me softly was my mom saying, “You can do this.” Thank you mom for not only being my perfect mom here on earth, but also encouraging me from beyond all understanding. It is always my hope that you would be proud of me today and that my actions help to keep your memory alive.

Bravery indeed and three very special women who continue to shape my life. Three lights may have gone out on earth, but heaven is an even more special place.   When we see each other again, we will have lots to talk about.

Peace be with you.

 

 

 

 

 

The Magic of Christmas

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xboxDuring this time of year, I always seem to reflect back to my childhood and the years my children were small. While I understood why we had Christmas and loved hearing the stories about the birth of Jesus, the second part of Christmas was absolutely magical. As an only child, I probably believed in Santa longer than most. I think I was around 9 before my best gal pal Mary put it in my head that there was no Santa.

Deciding each year on my “Santa gift”, was a big deal for me. It usually involved a doll of some kind but I remember one year I could not make up my mind. I think I told each Santa that I visited that year a different doll. Finally my mom told me that I had to make up my mind because I was confusing Santa’s helpers. My mom would always get the big Wishbook catalog in November and I couldn’t wait to look at all the toys. My favorite pages were the baby doll pages. Would it be a doll that talked, peed into a diaper, cried real tears, danced like a ballerina, or wound up and moved like a real baby? What to do, what to do.

Then there were the Christmas lights. My dad was not a put lights on our house kind of guy. In fact, I think my mom only talked him into it once. But he would take me all over town to look at the lights on the houses of other people. In fact, we did it a lot. There was one house that really went all out and they even opened their garage which had been turned into Santa’s workshop. Cars would line up for blocks to just drive by. Our major department store would put up a huge window display with puppets that was also one of my favorite things to see at Christmas.

Our Christmas tree until I was in 4th grade was one of those silver trees with red and blue ornaments. I can remember helping my mother every year put those silver shiny sticks into the pole and adorning the tree with red and blue ornaments. I thought everyone had a silver tree. Boy was Ishocked when I found out they didn’t. The following year I talked my mom into getting an artificial GREEN tree. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. The next year, my mom and I attempted to spray snow on it with the cans of snow you could buy to flock your own tree. I think we had to throw it away after that Christmas but bought an even nicer artificial green tree the next year. It is interesting how we never discussed getting a “real” tree. Just wasn’t the thing to do in the 70’s.

Christmas Eve was the night I could open one gift and it seems it was always new jammies, which I loved. Trying to get to sleep was difficult because I knew Santa was out driving around in his sleigh. I was always a bit concerned about how he was going to get into my house because we did not have a chimney.   Laying in my bed waiting for the sandman to put me to sleep, I tried very hard to hear the jingle bells of the sleigh. Sometimes I would get up and peek out my bedroom window looking for Rudolph’s red nose. Sometimes I even saw it! Of course now I’m pretty sure that was a plane in the sky, but as a child who REALLY believed, it was exciting.

Now the magic really happened on Christmas morning when I would get up and wonder quietly into the living room to find that Santa had been there. He had even eaten the cookies I left out for him. Squealing into my parent’s room I would go. He came, he came!!!!!   Oh what a feeling.

So having the wonderful Christmas memories I had as a child, I of course wanted my children to have that same magical experience. The only difference is that I have to be the one to pull that off. That is a lot of pressure year after year to get just what they wanted and get it under that tree without them knowing it. I wonder if my mom felt the same way. Well I am very proud to say that I managed to continue the tradition and was never caught. My children got up every Christmas morning to the magic of Santa and as excited as they were, my heart would swell with the absolute love I felt for them and knowing I had made their day. That is when I began to understand that giving was even more fun than getting and each year I would work even harder to make it more magical for them.

The last little bit of magic I got to dole out at Christmas was when my son was in high school. Years after they stopped believing in Santa, I would always ask my kids to select one special gift that could be from “Santa”. I would wrap it up, put a tag on it from Santa and they would open it on Christmas morning. Now my son is a massive “gamer” and he loves Xbox, PlayStation, Nintendo and whatever else is out there. This particular Christmas, the newest and greatest game system was coming out and it was the Xbox 360. That is what Craig said he wanted from Santa. I looked high and low for this. His dad in Oklahoma City looked high and low for this. Nothing. They sold out like hotcakes and there was a nationwide shortage. Craig knew this and that there was a 99.99% chance that Santa would not be able to deliver this year. He took it in stride, which absolutely broke my heart. Even at 17, I wanted Christmas to still be magical for him. I was so disappointed that the magic was not going to happen.

Two days before Christmas, I am in our local Wal-Mart picking up groceries for Christmas dinner when I decided to just walk through the gaming department. I casually glanced at the case where the Xbox should have been and noticed that there were two items that looked like Xboxes. I stopped and looked again, read the box which said “Xbox”.  Were my eyes deceiving me? Was this a cruel joke? I grabbed a sales associate and asked if they had any Xboxes and she said no. Then I asked her to follow me. I pointed to the two boxes behind the glass case and said, “What are those?” She replied, “Those are Xboxes. I guess we got a couple in.” OMG. Is she kidding me? I stood my ground and said, “I need one of those immediately.” Then someone came up behind me and asked for the other one. Talk about timing, or was it “magic”. I was going to be able to give Craig a magical Christmas after all.

Keith wrapped the package for me in a very large box, inside of a smaller box then another smaller box until the final box, THE XBOX! For as long as I live, the look on my son’s face was the most magical of all. It was a Christmas miracle.

This year Keith and I are traveling to Little Rock to spend Christmas with my daughter and her family. I get to sit back and watch how Loni and Charles create the magic for Max and Molly. I can’t wait to see their little faces light up on Christmas morning when they realize that Santa came, ate the cookies and drank the milk they left him. The magic of Christmas continues.

It’s a Process

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Water Trees

I am ready to admit that I underestimated the magnitude of this surgery. Twelve days ago I had my acoustic neuroma brain tumor removed and I am now home recuperating, thanks be to God. I had a couple of months to mentally prepare for this event, connected with others who had acoustic neuromas removed and I simply felt like super woman when I got ready to go. I was jolly in the office, joked about having a brain tumor and tried to make it as simple in my mind as I could. But again, sometimes I can be wrong.

The day before my surgery was spent on pre-op appointment after appointment. Not a lot of time to think about the event itself. My final test for that day came after 5 p.m. with my surgical MRI and by 6:45, my mind began to spill over into what the next day might hold. I began to feel the small pangs of fear within me. Not wanting to show that, I tried to keep the stiff upper lip. My daughter finally arrived which was a wonderful thing, but seeing her made me more vulnerable. I don’t get to see her a lot so when I do I get emotional. This was no exception.   So here the four of us were, my husband, my son and my daughter, trying to make small talk Wednesday evening and trying to mentally prepare ourselves for the next day, which would start at 4:15 a.m.

We were told to check in for surgery at 5:15 so at 5 a.m. we all started the journey from our hotel rooms across the street to surgery. We were walking together but my insides were screaming. Keep it together Marcy. When we arrived there were lots of people there waiting to check in as well. Guess it was a big surgery day in the hospital. It finally got to be my turn. I checked in and thank God they let my family come back and be with me until they took me to surgery. I was on the verge of tears every second and I did not want to cry in front of my family. I needed to show them I was ok and strong, right? Initially they only allowed two people in the family to be with you at a time. But my daughter has never been one to take NO very well, so next thing I know, there she is. Good job Loni.

We continue to make small talk while all the people come in and out of the room explaining to us what is going to happen and asking me 9,000 questions and most of them are the same questions. At this point all I can think of is I am ready for you guys to knock me out because I am scared to death. It is finally time and they start to wheel me out of the room and then it happened. A few tears leaked from the corner of my eyes and then there was nothing.

I am thrilled to tell you that all of my tumor was removed and I have no facial nerve damage and at the moment still have some hearing in my bad ear. My balance nerve is a bit woozy, but that is normal and one of the things I will be adjusting to few for quite a while. My 1.48 cm tumor was removed with the Retrosigmoid/sub-occipital surgical approach, which involves exposing the back of the tumor by opening the skull near the back of the head. This approach can be used for removing large tumors and offers the possibility of preserving hearing. The surgery was scheduled for 10 hours but was concluded in 5 ½! Now the process begins.

My memories of those five days in the hospital are blurred and acute depending on the day and event. I remember telling my husband on more than one occasion that this was harder than I had anticipated. In fact, I may have said it to him daily. At first they kept me pretty drugged to keep me comfortable. I have never had morphine before but when the nurse would come in and put it in my IV, I knew it. Didn’t know much after that, but I could feel it move through my body. That was weird. After a couple of days I tried to back off of some of the drugs because it just made me feel groggy and icky. I had no appetite and of course my nurses were constantly concerned about the amount of fluids going in and out of me and almost every conversation included the questions, “have you pooped today?” Leave me alone people.

Now for those of you who have been in the hospital or have had loved ones in the hospital, you know that getting a good night’s sleep is rare. I mean you can start off sleeping great, but someone has to come in every few hours and check your blood pressure, temperature and put that little clip on your finger to check your oxygen levels. I had gotten pretty good at just having my arm ready and literally sleeping through it. The last morning I was there, my 4:50 a.m. blood pressure nurse comes in and does her thing and I did mine. She leaves and as I am just dropping back to sleep she steps back in my room and she is asking me something. Well first off she is talking to me from my bad ear so I have no idea what she is saying. I turned over a little and said “what?” She repeats herself; “Since 11 p.m., how much liquid have you had to drink and have you pooped.” Now I know I just had brain surgery and I am on pain pills at night, but I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I make eye contact this time and said, “WHAT?” She repeated the question. Is she kidding me? I have been asleep since 9 p.m., and under the influence of pain meds. When would I have been up drinking and pooping? Didn’t she wake me just five minutes ago to take my blood pressure? I am sure the “tone” of my response was not very friendly, but at that moment I really didn’t care. I looked sternly at her and told her I had been asleep since 9. That was the morning I knew I needed to go home.

So this morning I begin my seventh day at home. I can tell that I still have inflammation because hearing out of either of my ears is difficult. Too many sounds at one time are difficult and become unbearable. My eyes are very sensitive to light. I exist in a constant state of wooziness with the feeling of cotton in my head. It’s a process.   I started out really well getting out a walking those first few days at home and I was beginning to think I was super woman again, then my dosage of the steroid I was being given got cut in half and my reality changed. Didn’t realize how much the steroid was boosting me. I know now. Had a bit of a setback day Saturday because of it, but it is what it is. Keith went back to work yesterday morning so it’s just me and the dogs. I am sick of TV and sick of sitting around and this is only my first week home to recuperate. Typing and reading is difficult as my ability to focus on words for very long is difficult. So much for catching up on my reading right away. I guess it’s good to remember that I’m not on vacation here. I am undertaking a very difficult job, recuperating from surgery.

The stiches come out Thursday and the following day I CAN WASH MY HAIR. Keith has been washing out my hair in the kitchen sink for me every other day or so which has helped, but I need to be able to do it myself and actually try and style it. Then my surgeon tells me that I have to wait three months to touch up my hair color. Get ready friends, we are all getting ready to see the actual color of my hair and I’m scared. Maybe you should be too.

So the process will continue and each day will be better. Taking things slow and being patient will have to become my new normal. All in all I feel pretty good and am grateful to be on the other side of it. So this holiday season will be at a slow pace in the King household and that is ok. I may get some Christmas decorations out and maybe I won’t. Maybe a tree goes up and maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll wrap packages, maybe I won’t. But whatever I do, it will be with peace and love in my heart and a grateful attitude that I’m Ok [thanks be to God].

Peace be with you.