tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47802789327995565832024-03-24T07:29:12.718-07:00It's Just Me, GinaGinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.comBlogger242125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-46913483495860758022024-03-23T01:00:00.000-07:002024-03-23T01:00:00.146-07:00The amateur radios, et al.<div style="text-align: center;">T<span style="font-family: verdana;">his will seem like a long rambling story.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">About throwing Mark's shit away.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is what it is.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mark was a ham - an amateur radio operator. He had been interested in it for years, back when CB radios were a thing. So in the very early 90's he got his ham radio license. He commandeered the walk-in closets at both houses to make his very own "ham shack" and climbed around in both attics, installing antennas. He ALSO installed radios in all of his vehicles, with the associated antennas. He was a member of several emergency response organizations, taught a radio badge for boy scouts, and participated in several City of Austin Emergency Response drills (remember Y2K?). Recently I came across all of his licenses and certificates and training manuals and books and notes and ID badges and CRAP and seriously, I felt so overwhelmed by it all. I cleaned out the <a href="https://cannaryfamily.blogspot.com/2024/02/little-project-dresser-purging-and.html">drawers</a> I had it all stored in. Then I turned my attention to the actual radios and etc.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAgyIpg9yvbWTVQGjGAFgPQh4CGuYyoss_b-rgdZFfckTTM6BsZ2nyYz2lUl5DQEhaWbTTb3PDSJgmcw-4mgMN2v5h2iLbZ5aTn-VfzPXWcl7FvvQg9RXnLLuadSEh8FN3FohR1Mi761yI09r3RzrMV309PIsbWvoGb5hXvFApFbNA_JZPlGSgow5zAM/s3779/20240229_135553.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2127" data-original-width="3779" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpAgyIpg9yvbWTVQGjGAFgPQh4CGuYyoss_b-rgdZFfckTTM6BsZ2nyYz2lUl5DQEhaWbTTb3PDSJgmcw-4mgMN2v5h2iLbZ5aTn-VfzPXWcl7FvvQg9RXnLLuadSEh8FN3FohR1Mi761yI09r3RzrMV309PIsbWvoGb5hXvFApFbNA_JZPlGSgow5zAM/w400-h225/20240229_135553.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I had pulled all of them out of the master closet a couple years ago and put them in the garage. No more ham shack! Then from the attic I pulled all of the empty boxes they came in. That's where I stalled. I was <i>this close</i> to taking them all to the recycle center when Grayson said, lets sell them I'll help you. But after a month's time, we both realized we were in over our heads, neither of us knowing anything about how to deal with them. So in a fit of "ohmyGodIcan'tstandthisanymore", I pushed all of it to one side of the garage while I worked on another project. (as it turns out, purging more stuff from the garage that I don't want) Then I calmly pulled the recycle bin around to the garage and loaded up all of the manuals and cardboard boxes. I shoved the radios, and a very old chainsaw and drill, into the back of the truck and made an appointment at the recycle center to drop them all off.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm not going to justify/discuss/explain this to my kids for any reason.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I don't care what it all may have been worth - certainly not the price of my sanity.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I always feel a twinge of guilt, then I remember:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Mark is not his stuff. Mark neither cares about nor needs ham radios in heaven. Mark would understand the burden that was placed on me. Mark would want me not to be unhappy in my home and grieve forever.</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVCJXBYC-Wi4awOQ_bfLR_X9_rZu7aLT5O2wwSaBtfcoywSygnL91Wuo6i8ZayjVo4GwMsgYJheo26Ae5aI7-BCkSQSzhnvV0o4KnHY91lyvVKBTUnhr9BqahUfIcBGV5OR7TOhDCCn7QuFeaO3e15kpCMKdTUKOqoVA_Tth2YN3vs2bWAZIAgEvP4-0/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVCJXBYC-Wi4awOQ_bfLR_X9_rZu7aLT5O2wwSaBtfcoywSygnL91Wuo6i8ZayjVo4GwMsgYJheo26Ae5aI7-BCkSQSzhnvV0o4KnHY91lyvVKBTUnhr9BqahUfIcBGV5OR7TOhDCCn7QuFeaO3e15kpCMKdTUKOqoVA_Tth2YN3vs2bWAZIAgEvP4-0/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">P.S. Someday I will tell the story of how we struck a deal involving ham radios with Mark going to the dentist...</span></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-24355564753784841412024-03-16T01:00:00.000-07:002024-03-16T01:00:00.136-07:00That was hard<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">About a month ago, I got this card in the mail, sent via the donor people, from someone thanking our family for donor tissue for use in healing of her arm. Apparently, the tissue was taken from Mark. This happened back in November of 2023, but we just got the note. So, the tissue graft was successful.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm glad. That's the point of being a donor. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7aUXb7rFXt7cvFVRCrR7zm2d0R4d_Hlv6WuK7pWF6BOEQrXlPzx0cqekC42mPEXV0MF3bU2-vQkm1IjNfPBPxhQNwTKtZvooQ91J4aP4GXctbnuEAE4NK9GXgJXpl4oWJClIKyhacLvo9hg_OVBjvFXZv1d9GZoGIauF6AA7UJo895FK4GdxJd0EMLVU/s2981/20240209_161426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="2981" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7aUXb7rFXt7cvFVRCrR7zm2d0R4d_Hlv6WuK7pWF6BOEQrXlPzx0cqekC42mPEXV0MF3bU2-vQkm1IjNfPBPxhQNwTKtZvooQ91J4aP4GXctbnuEAE4NK9GXgJXpl4oWJClIKyhacLvo9hg_OVBjvFXZv1d9GZoGIauF6AA7UJo895FK4GdxJd0EMLVU/w400-h304/20240209_161426.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I didn't know what to think about it at first.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I shared it with Dylan and Grayson, since they are home with me. They both quietly and calmly acknowledged it. It spent a week or two posted on the fridge, then I put it away in the "Mark" file, with all of the other sympathy cards and letters we have received. {admittedly not that many} And while I know Mark would have said something like "very cool!", I can't also help but think it wasn't so. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm thankful to know that I honored Mark's wishes and he has the potential of helping others, but still. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It did wreck me a little bit. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">That was hard.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2jx6XIuMkiuPjJXWYvw4rEfJf19Txd9gu5_c-aI7dGS_Z8SP1GWR0NV29KMqzRTES-du7ZZFPmH2JRc9i_4YGZ6Me-B_z1HJYhrv-BZ0FXEr-mNqFaOatSmr_uoA7m1sbrMScVDvBPPAp9RLkFmR3xGxuHo5DPn-gtI5ZiaWqr_N31QbwRUDtXvDXRc/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2jx6XIuMkiuPjJXWYvw4rEfJf19Txd9gu5_c-aI7dGS_Z8SP1GWR0NV29KMqzRTES-du7ZZFPmH2JRc9i_4YGZ6Me-B_z1HJYhrv-BZ0FXEr-mNqFaOatSmr_uoA7m1sbrMScVDvBPPAp9RLkFmR3xGxuHo5DPn-gtI5ZiaWqr_N31QbwRUDtXvDXRc/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-83234736413926330172024-03-09T01:00:00.001-08:002024-03-11T06:27:13.550-07:00Things I forgive Mark and myself for*<div style="text-align: center;">Well, pretty much everything.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mark and I did not live the charmed life, weren't perfect parents, and were often disconnected as spouses. We argued about basic things and had a hard time apologizing. We each had our own agenda, and that caused us to often not be on the same page. He was a borderline hoarder, socially outgoing and likeable, super involved with his children. I was organized and detail focused, worked hard at balancing home, my job, and child rearing, and was sometimes introverted.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Over the years we disagreed about sex, money, and the kids. We had differing views on what retirement might look like.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4UjPkW0l36fdXJ_B-LUrTB4FOWJ9sf9HTQ_Zxv83i4qn6OYxk42vfy4gLouHxEZAcPFSs0WDo_5cdvSeZMfYDwIdgpkHXPDgqn3XMEFBXT318Q4P-Fp79hE5MK0F560uISAY5PFP-NtrCR2hWyDaw7sSavvFTGqOpXY2cJtCTlzxX5qHIWBU4Tnq6jM/s3648/20210612_144135_08%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4UjPkW0l36fdXJ_B-LUrTB4FOWJ9sf9HTQ_Zxv83i4qn6OYxk42vfy4gLouHxEZAcPFSs0WDo_5cdvSeZMfYDwIdgpkHXPDgqn3XMEFBXT318Q4P-Fp79hE5MK0F560uISAY5PFP-NtrCR2hWyDaw7sSavvFTGqOpXY2cJtCTlzxX5qHIWBU4Tnq6jM/w320-h240/20210612_144135_08%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In other words, we were human.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I've had to remind myself not to place Mark on some kind of pedestal. But, he was a truly good person, who loved me only a little less than my own mother did. I don't regret one minute of my life spent with him, and I hope he would have said the same about me. We didn't have a perfect marriage, but honestly, who does? And what even constitutes that? We made a life together that produced a beautiful family and we had some very good times mixed in. And we had real love.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Whenever I beat myself up about what I could have or should have said or done, I remind myself that forgiveness works both ways. I'm sure he would feel the same if he were here, looking back on our life together.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfSTNOam03igPBTaojjacQ1-9VOEMokoFB0z8iOUy1Bx0Y8yyMHKRj7Y7piMPlm9nn7vCDgC3LF7C3rvluXV-K8Z-zdryf5W75JqsBgRP0l7bIdnRGXvloZKAmJLC81YhoQZpXtGrIG9UUlJGcsthg0OyhfkzryduH-w-FKJMcqs2Wi8Y3B40Ta2MD6k/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfSTNOam03igPBTaojjacQ1-9VOEMokoFB0z8iOUy1Bx0Y8yyMHKRj7Y7piMPlm9nn7vCDgC3LF7C3rvluXV-K8Z-zdryf5W75JqsBgRP0l7bIdnRGXvloZKAmJLC81YhoQZpXtGrIG9UUlJGcsthg0OyhfkzryduH-w-FKJMcqs2Wi8Y3B40Ta2MD6k/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*I am following a series of prompts for a few posts</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-88717970457043511852024-03-02T01:00:00.001-08:002024-03-02T01:00:00.252-08:00Happy things for March 2024<div style="text-align: center;">I made a calendar for myself of all the things I wanted to work on this year at my house. And although I might have procrastinated a bit of the February plans, we still have a good ten months to go. So I feel sure that I will rally and catch up on my list.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmCJ9RtAWv1WY7VmzSj2F0V35bYPbtaijW1cihGVD8FD8IMTOawAgrgHkSC7AjGgDkTXDIZNXwaEIc1cmfhMIDRluyXIw0yAa7r6TBoojUIzK4TCROgU87mh9Y54zjSc9cApE2CY_XP8MwtR0sjucf662aC2d_0FmeFRfVZ86DoszHzvImlMyQOa16pc/s4032/20240221_125707.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmCJ9RtAWv1WY7VmzSj2F0V35bYPbtaijW1cihGVD8FD8IMTOawAgrgHkSC7AjGgDkTXDIZNXwaEIc1cmfhMIDRluyXIw0yAa7r6TBoojUIzK4TCROgU87mh9Y54zjSc9cApE2CY_XP8MwtR0sjucf662aC2d_0FmeFRfVZ86DoszHzvImlMyQOa16pc/w400-h225/20240221_125707.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One of the first things for March is fixing another shared fence section between me and a neighbor. Surprisingly, he agreed to cover half of the cost and is going to pay for an extra post, as well. So including this getting resolved, here are the other happy things for March:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I sent a money donation to the senior center in Brenham in honor of Mom, who would have been 94 yesterday. She spent many happy hours there and made friends, so it made me feel good to remember her this way. She was generous and believed in charity and tithing. She was smart with her money and set a great example for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I got the Baja put in my name and it was fairly painless. That's one step forward to getting the issue of the vehicles resolved. I feel like March is when we will leap forward with all of that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*My labs came back all "within normal limits" and my cholesterol was "great" - a quote from my doc. Now I just need to get the reflux in check and I am working hard on that. My weight is stable, too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I am almost done selling all of the items I had listed on Ebay. It was fairly painless, earned me a little money, and greatly reduced the clutter in my jewelry box. It has inspired me to get going on the other things I need to sell,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*The seasons are changing and Spring is just about here. I am ready to move forward in many areas of life. I would love to keep a forward momentum, but I know rainy days will be mixed in with the sunny ones. I will keep up my walking program and focus on my health!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjckvelYE55h80fyXWDUEyqil_EjZsOdRuhmtvMPR-i8Af6xJnt8yEZM-zBBaCVY-UDZcHyGLLjw2JQa1bLsppac8FRwPcIYZImOzCumr2tFLC1mQMX_SZdY8OyMF5Z43C1dtjBHNxS0xK5RoDLTQuXtKurLdr4ZKhxRvRfVGfKLL_gpU0cGDbtNI3bes/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjckvelYE55h80fyXWDUEyqil_EjZsOdRuhmtvMPR-i8Af6xJnt8yEZM-zBBaCVY-UDZcHyGLLjw2JQa1bLsppac8FRwPcIYZImOzCumr2tFLC1mQMX_SZdY8OyMF5Z43C1dtjBHNxS0xK5RoDLTQuXtKurLdr4ZKhxRvRfVGfKLL_gpU0cGDbtNI3bes/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div></div><p></p>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-43417682210924495242024-02-24T01:00:00.000-08:002024-02-24T01:00:00.148-08:00Things I wish I could do over*<div style="text-align: center;">I'm sure that a lot of people play this game with themselves. {Its kind of like spending the imaginary Lotto millions you've just won.} If you could only go back in time and re-do things that you now have 20/20 hindsight on, right? Maybe you are remembering a happier time and just want to re-live it. Recently Grayson told me he wanted to be 16 again - when he was happy. My heart broke a little. Being 16 is something I would do over, too, but for different reasons. </div><div style="text-align: center;">When I was 16 I lacked discipline and direction. I was chasing things instead of working hard to attain what I wanted. I dreamed and wished for a life that I wasn't actively working toward achieving. And I wasn't a particularly nice person because I was so dissatisfied with my lot in life. I lost my way with my religion, relationships, self-respect. And all of that was when I had the initial opportunity at maturity, having made good grades, gotten a driver's license and a part time job, and attained some status in high school circles.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOsLtbrkmknZy5Egj53748UAmvCzZnKzfrjdPyxFSXXXPB5NqQ2OhuMCQlxhuSjcmSSiipVoxpLlFWecbwiNyctljONa5bUQqFTSMeEFhsSlgfSJ6bljKKIHZ-pyUlzKqHRpI5uSiiTolxRk_qrVq6Zn4zTKirOxrNFZLp0j-NU-bFszSi_Eq4CKxGCw/s604/1913753_104344789581095_5415464_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="444" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOsLtbrkmknZy5Egj53748UAmvCzZnKzfrjdPyxFSXXXPB5NqQ2OhuMCQlxhuSjcmSSiipVoxpLlFWecbwiNyctljONa5bUQqFTSMeEFhsSlgfSJ6bljKKIHZ-pyUlzKqHRpI5uSiiTolxRk_qrVq6Zn4zTKirOxrNFZLp0j-NU-bFszSi_Eq4CKxGCw/s320/1913753_104344789581095_5415464_n.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">me at 16</span></i></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">So. With that being said. Here's what I would do differently starting at 16:</div><div style="text-align: center;">*focused on what I wanted to do for a living someday, and apply for jobs and opportunities that would have taught me something as a basis for future endeavors. While employed I would have maintained a high standard of honesty and hard work, limiting my absenteeism, gaining insight from my peers and supervisors, and learning how to manage my money.</div><div style="text-align: center;">*enjoyed all of the opportunities high school had to offer instead of being so laser-focused on popularity, drill team, and boys. Taken college prep level classes from the get-go.</div><div style="text-align: center;">*pick the university I wanted to attend based on <b>my</b> future goals, graduated on time, working part time and keeping my grades high. Started applying for post college jobs sooner.</div><div style="text-align: center;">*Dated more than one or two people in high school. Said no to things I shouldn't have been doing. Been responsible for my own health and well-being. Kept the lines of communication open with my mother and asked for her input.</div><div style="text-align: center;">*Been a better person overall, made worthwhile connections and met more people. Told my family I loved them and honored those relationships. Gone to church with my mother. Taken care of my body and my overall mental and physical health. Asked for help.</div><div style="text-align: center;">*Plotted a course, walked the path, held my head up, made myself proud.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Its like they say: youth is wasted on the young.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMfR3d7Z_DDYFYwSKidHq9N0XQC123yUkNpSztR9gZuRQ-e1YYsMMuZAlHJtOBhIBhkdzSHdnwFkBUuSnTaGznHFyYwk534qJ9NRhpAw595i_oA7BDbisvu_vIe1SsK1egO8px7j5BKqX6LI1BLKNPtsXkdG5EUoQ3tyxaOMTA7WCZLenOfwI-vARzUc/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMfR3d7Z_DDYFYwSKidHq9N0XQC123yUkNpSztR9gZuRQ-e1YYsMMuZAlHJtOBhIBhkdzSHdnwFkBUuSnTaGznHFyYwk534qJ9NRhpAw595i_oA7BDbisvu_vIe1SsK1egO8px7j5BKqX6LI1BLKNPtsXkdG5EUoQ3tyxaOMTA7WCZLenOfwI-vARzUc/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*still following a series of prompts</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-56266386916015192422024-02-10T01:00:00.001-08:002024-02-10T01:00:00.124-08:00The kindness of a stranger<p style="text-align: center;"> Recently I used Lyft to get a ride to the dealership to pick up Subie. Normally, the driver isn't talkative, but Kitty in the maroon Accord was very different. She greeted me like I was someone she knew, smiling and saying "hello!". She asked about my day and I told her I was picking up my car from repairs. She told me that her father was a mechanic and although they did not live close, she always got his opinion on car repairs. She said "yeah, its always something with a car. One minute its are running fine, then next its a $1300 repair". "That's funny, I said, that's exactly how much my repair is!" She was so confident and out-going, and talky. She said, "so I always ask people I meet: one, what do you do for a living, and two, what brings you joy?" I told her that what I did for a living and that it did not always bring me joy....and I was still trying to decide for myself how to find joy after two years of widowhood. I asked her questions about Honda vs. Subaru and why she loved "Garnet" as she lovingly patted the dashboard. (which is something I always do with Subie) In the blink of an eye, she was dropping me off at the dealership. I tipped her a couple of bucks and told her I was sorry that it wasn't much. She seemed genuinely surprised and delighted and wished me a happy day.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> I know it sounds strange, but I felt like I was <i>supposed</i> to meet her that day. She got my morning off on the right foot and the rest of the day went smoothly. I had two very delish breakfast tacos, got a bunch of stuff done around the house, had a great lunch at home, did a bit of shopping and cleaned out my car, went on a walk, made a good dinner, cleaned the kitchen, got ready for work the next day, and slept well. It was a good day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDR3hCcRnOZtehXijRZwzFZfIGxvJOfd99RwKOR4WE2StqPKB5N09IpUaNfbDhZAvwlr2LAzeSGbAg6bxz9BNNzAmu94jUEUENETpXnPGtWJX9oUENDdOIEj163EpHosJqn8Jo7hfujcktn-yqSb1dm9X2xfOf2T4EorHghr7zvmR7GpBnbGFDdPe0LLE/s3296/20240126_092621.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1854" data-original-width="3296" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDR3hCcRnOZtehXijRZwzFZfIGxvJOfd99RwKOR4WE2StqPKB5N09IpUaNfbDhZAvwlr2LAzeSGbAg6bxz9BNNzAmu94jUEUENETpXnPGtWJX9oUENDdOIEj163EpHosJqn8Jo7hfujcktn-yqSb1dm9X2xfOf2T4EorHghr7zvmR7GpBnbGFDdPe0LLE/w400-h225/20240126_092621.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">car repairs should always be followed by tacos</div><p style="text-align: center;"> I've had that feeling before in brief encounters with people and been in awe of the bigger force in play. Kitty was like a breath of fresh air on a cold and overcast day when I was dropping big bucks on my 8 year old car during a hugely expensive month. Her kindness and genuine interest in other people gave me perspective and a calm outlook that lasted the rest of the day. <span style="text-align: center;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJsatLqKZtIeY8D4kdN_F2QYynssMXR0jxHzxKi_iF7zamjn-ocQqSXZf9EH6_VTEcPpZMQpTq-nGC8go7A-Qh-TsQnDh90dQJRFBc1nzjR2aHf_30w9JzkFGS-_lYfa2qMyh5QSj_BrOBwRKVk5ttd0U2_sAtPLVvimuC5dGHThN-_eWGMZMXHhjdao/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJsatLqKZtIeY8D4kdN_F2QYynssMXR0jxHzxKi_iF7zamjn-ocQqSXZf9EH6_VTEcPpZMQpTq-nGC8go7A-Qh-TsQnDh90dQJRFBc1nzjR2aHf_30w9JzkFGS-_lYfa2qMyh5QSj_BrOBwRKVk5ttd0U2_sAtPLVvimuC5dGHThN-_eWGMZMXHhjdao/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-38499761663665220912024-02-03T01:00:00.000-08:002024-02-03T01:00:00.251-08:00Happy Things for February '24<div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: verdana;">Is it just me, or does it seem like New Year's was just a couple weeks ago?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Also...it seems like I really look forward to January for that fresh start/clean slate feeling, then various things happen that take a little of the shine off. I am going to keep my head up as best I can and find the good.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxg9Nnq7O_QchOA7qL_zJTBTLCoObJkA7j-G6phtOo0fLmEfiK3AMX-NHVn-qR4KJtgGuHlcDNxI7nAMLgGptHxnhsQaA4PHQoQjdqpIVtgk3isNDxt0mPoDX8OZ_RDe-V4_h1GPIvxOdd29zDqMFDmsJWERjxMTL__XjDDtrxNwH_qTs_XwYlHDlXj8/s1331/20240201_162020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="1331" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTxg9Nnq7O_QchOA7qL_zJTBTLCoObJkA7j-G6phtOo0fLmEfiK3AMX-NHVn-qR4KJtgGuHlcDNxI7nAMLgGptHxnhsQaA4PHQoQjdqpIVtgk3isNDxt0mPoDX8OZ_RDe-V4_h1GPIvxOdd29zDqMFDmsJWERjxMTL__XjDDtrxNwH_qTs_XwYlHDlXj8/s320/20240201_162020.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">*the fence is repaired and it cost much less than two other quotes I got.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">*the water pressure issue for the house and kitchen was resolved and its soooo nice to have good water pressure and a fully functioning kitchen faucet!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">*I started a walking program and while doing so I listen to various Ted talks which are helpful. I am changing the way I look at grieving - very eye-opening.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">* I got that big auto pipe outta my garage, a bunch of stuff decluttered from my house, and Grayson is helping me sell the ham radios. Progress!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">*I'm going to buy a new car, sell mine to Grayson, then sell the Baja and Ridgeline. Will I regret this? Right now I can't see a reason why.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Deep breaths - February is off to a decent start.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3CXzpT1b-_WkVdrGV5VHUwRvAqWw9IU80XCcQWH-XuNuxyIIQphZFbb6bb0b2KMo1V6PYLfPmI4PEVr2o4_kxLc0ZJUe9HTVwyzjFi9SREOyiqtn_nwgr21ywi_3GKGZrV0pGIvK5TNVMn5gW6qvb-_X4TWbb4Cdkm-cpHjoHKGTB5uKfOER1BsEAKSs/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3CXzpT1b-_WkVdrGV5VHUwRvAqWw9IU80XCcQWH-XuNuxyIIQphZFbb6bb0b2KMo1V6PYLfPmI4PEVr2o4_kxLc0ZJUe9HTVwyzjFi9SREOyiqtn_nwgr21ywi_3GKGZrV0pGIvK5TNVMn5gW6qvb-_X4TWbb4Cdkm-cpHjoHKGTB5uKfOER1BsEAKSs/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-60375960200748061842024-01-27T01:00:00.000-08:002024-01-27T01:00:00.133-08:00A time we got along really well*<div style="text-align: center;">{Mark's 63rd birthday would have been this coming Wednesday, so this is maybe fitting}</div><div style="text-align: center;">The very <a href="https://cannaryfamily.blogspot.com/2021/07/5-thing-friday-new-hospital-llano-beer.html">last weekend</a> that Mark and I had together was a good one. I remember big chunks of it, and I fill in with what I know we probably did. We visited a brewery and Italian restaurant in Llano, as well as a winery, then a tasting room, in Mason. At Highlands, I would have fixed us a simple dinner to enjoy by the firepit. I do remember staying up much later than Mark did.</div><div style="text-align: center;">He was so tired, recovering from a heart attack, but we didn't know this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyU_WTUPuMRbacUPGSkdO8OCzI13mFzFA3pqMJ0dcNI6zqTSFYHPpeq5EGRecC30-ZLf0cclLFf2TJ6gPJdGLtvjrecXBFXlGU_5zqMsUp4P4gobzuoUOG59sSZPSkCbeUlGGoxqKuWO8x_mdMI_wiye1eqVnN0Hbw3xMpdHEzrh0xvJ2-FFvBJAcx_54/s3024/20210717_205131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyU_WTUPuMRbacUPGSkdO8OCzI13mFzFA3pqMJ0dcNI6zqTSFYHPpeq5EGRecC30-ZLf0cclLFf2TJ6gPJdGLtvjrecXBFXlGU_5zqMsUp4P4gobzuoUOG59sSZPSkCbeUlGGoxqKuWO8x_mdMI_wiye1eqVnN0Hbw3xMpdHEzrh0xvJ2-FFvBJAcx_54/w400-h400/20210717_205131.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>our hill, at sundown</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">On Sunday, Mark would have slept in until about 9 a.m. while I had gotten up earlier - usually around 7 a.m. I made a pot of coffee, then sat on one of the patio chairs to keep and eye out for passing wildlife - geese overhead, deer walking through, and the sounds of the cows mooing on the ranch next door. He would have said "oh, you're just going to let me sleep the morning away?" as he always did. I would have gotten him a cup of coffee and started making breakfast. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhio1_KZXYR9zDvXEMpx6721qRiFxm9qmlwj1N35D6jbOp38wK93Q0yKzPx6JgAzMNs9PiPtVNqnx6fSiGCP-B9I_DS7GsA6gIatB-sHsGM0fovYiNhQWRLED9jpu2Isa_ezuw_s3hDcDDON6cDMI5_rzLtrG6UuFlIei6HTe9ZbHLpX21b3IJ20ncXE/s3024/20210718_084003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKhio1_KZXYR9zDvXEMpx6721qRiFxm9qmlwj1N35D6jbOp38wK93Q0yKzPx6JgAzMNs9PiPtVNqnx6fSiGCP-B9I_DS7GsA6gIatB-sHsGM0fovYiNhQWRLED9jpu2Isa_ezuw_s3hDcDDON6cDMI5_rzLtrG6UuFlIei6HTe9ZbHLpX21b3IJ20ncXE/w400-h400/20210718_084003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I spy a cow</i></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Until afternoon we worked on various projects, just putseying around. Mark installed some nice stereo speakers on the outside of the Winnebago, then sat in his chair in the sun, listening to music on them. Come up here, I said to him, motioning to the front of the barn. I knew he hadn't been feeling well and I just wanted him to relax in the shade. I opened his favorite wine (<a href="https://fiestawinery.orderport.net/product-details/0006/Lime-in-the-Coconut--750-ML">Lime in the Coconut</a>!) and we sat in chairs facing each other, listening to music and chatting about anything and everything. {I so wish I could remember exactly what we talked about - we were sitting there for a couple of hours} It was so amiable - like two old friends and each others' favorite companion. In the late afternoon we took a nap, then woke around 6 p.m, loaded up the RV, and headed home. I remember thinking that afternoon that we were really connecting, and I swore to myself that the NEXT weekend, we were just going to relax. No projects, no travel, just time in our chairs in the sun on our hill, soaking up the last bit of summer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiXIHqCoox50bvJStEe-oK5N5gYi0xhfkttEy2z0-U5IjgF9PaFcrvuKdhMc012PKoGcyzTxQQeU-_HlAfPNAPRSlG7eQX5tXxs8yUeRW3ikow-MQxe1oZUK4XijRZ88SgjcIHXsK6zsvTKj2UvDb3PV8CG7hlQ1XTf8LvxDzJOmWjQN6-h56NEVLsJM/s3024/20210718_191608.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiXIHqCoox50bvJStEe-oK5N5gYi0xhfkttEy2z0-U5IjgF9PaFcrvuKdhMc012PKoGcyzTxQQeU-_HlAfPNAPRSlG7eQX5tXxs8yUeRW3ikow-MQxe1oZUK4XijRZ88SgjcIHXsK6zsvTKj2UvDb3PV8CG7hlQ1XTf8LvxDzJOmWjQN6-h56NEVLsJM/w400-h400/20210718_191608.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then the unthinkable happened.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I miss talking with him, most of all. The mundane <b>and</b> the extraordinary. All of it - </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">catching up on our day or week, swapping stories about our jobs and people we knew, discussing the kids, making plans for Highlands and the future.... And I'm thankful that as that week wore on, with all of its frustrations and stress, we'd had Sunday together, enjoying each others' company.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPuXAadzAO_JlxLMQPecI5V6GtDpajTTTGTRL97_oVQRoSQwjqnBB2O6tZ6EMbPef51yvbACQfePfONAwpLocNwhyphenhyphenn6rucjkuoYFviRX1kYbQc1H-0RcdQUfAyplTg3eT8fhbVUy_bLLTHHyG9RwV-joJ7HTXDdE1ZgGBKMay6oB9h2Dk0qTCOBL6ho2Q/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPuXAadzAO_JlxLMQPecI5V6GtDpajTTTGTRL97_oVQRoSQwjqnBB2O6tZ6EMbPef51yvbACQfePfONAwpLocNwhyphenhyphenn6rucjkuoYFviRX1kYbQc1H-0RcdQUfAyplTg3eT8fhbVUy_bLLTHHyG9RwV-joJ7HTXDdE1ZgGBKMay6oB9h2Dk0qTCOBL6ho2Q/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I am following a series of prompts for a few posts</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-15795696850106098782024-01-13T01:00:00.000-08:002024-01-13T06:37:46.623-08:00A memory that makes me laugh*<div style="text-align: center;"> Full disclosure: this is one of those frankly mean yet actually harmless sibling stories that I have laughed about throughout the years, almost to the point of not being able to re-tell it. In fact, I just snort-laughed, reliving it in my mind! It will never not make me laugh.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm sure my sister did not find it amusing in the least.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNiEJfQHwUk6cb_5PqMwI1bLn7vTZAvF6x99ExbfjBBXRhyphenhyphenUN4GKmd_xc6eNIiacDmTeYAI0upjnkVQ-QOpMLHXnyEQdAv8lNcVT4lRxeLDZRfhVszvH7kUjjysscDHOcf09GyGAaNAnXrAPxsp4lHdXviHlDa1UKzib_jFFsdeSg4PqtGhqw8pv8p1Q/s964/383342270_7534754146540085_8319753563587689074_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="764" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNiEJfQHwUk6cb_5PqMwI1bLn7vTZAvF6x99ExbfjBBXRhyphenhyphenUN4GKmd_xc6eNIiacDmTeYAI0upjnkVQ-QOpMLHXnyEQdAv8lNcVT4lRxeLDZRfhVszvH7kUjjysscDHOcf09GyGAaNAnXrAPxsp4lHdXviHlDa1UKzib_jFFsdeSg4PqtGhqw8pv8p1Q/w318-h400/383342270_7534754146540085_8319753563587689074_n.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can hear my mother now calling me a "bad ole girl"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Years ago, when we lived in Galveston, we were in a house that had a couple of rooms which shared a closet that connected them. (mostly the cat's favorite place to go and pee on shoes) So you could sneak from one room to the next, deviling each other, as my mother would say. On one such occasion, I hid in my 15 year old sister's side of the closet, having sneaked in via my mother's room. My unsuspecting 12 year old brother was in the living room that was just adjacent, watching TV. I'm sure my mother was at work with the three of us home unattended. This house had a tiny bathroom for the four of us to share and it was located on the other side of the house from the bedrooms - in fact just outside of the kitchen, which was a dumb place to put a bathroom. It was so small that after a bath or shower we would wrap ourselves in a towel to return to our room to get dressed. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This is a crucial detail in my story.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So there I was, lying in wait for her, in the dark closet of her room, with the door barely open a crack.</div><div style="text-align: center;">{This is hard to type as I have to pause and laugh every so often...hold please}</div><div style="text-align: center;">As she entered the room, clutching the towel wrapped around her, another towel wrapped turban style on her head, carrying a cup of coffee, I let out this insanely terrible schlurping noise like some kind of animal, scaring the absolute shit out of her. It was the first time in my life I had ever made that sound - I don't even know where it came from. She threw the full cup of coffee into the air where it rained down on her newly clean self, dropped her towels, and ran screaming into the living room in her birthday suit with wild wet hair in her face where my brother sat gaping at her, wide-eyed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I literally fell out of the closet laughing so hard I could not breathe and couldn't speak for some time.</div><div style="text-align: center;">In no way did I feel remorse or regret for doing this to her, and probably did not even help her recover her dignity or clean up the spilled coffee. And I'm sure she was merely trying to get ready for an after school job.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This possibly explains why my sister does not think I am funny.</div><div style="text-align: center;">In fact, she has spent the rest of her life making sure I understand the phrase "paybacks are hell".</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ha ha.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDNfN6l0X3-oQ0pGu1YUdP1T8RbIwK93IhTrex8dwmdQFb_Dvvw2ugnndgSnfNLiocaRKQ4vjze1r1Md_Zly2O37wUtnmzfIO2LCLCOKneCyYpIBKFRmuWAtoGkNKsw-ucnFFeKLpmRzkVBpTPw1DOrYh8O7LbhN_yMSF3XwbFHAyG3qd-YRrRKlVX3o/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimDNfN6l0X3-oQ0pGu1YUdP1T8RbIwK93IhTrex8dwmdQFb_Dvvw2ugnndgSnfNLiocaRKQ4vjze1r1Md_Zly2O37wUtnmzfIO2LCLCOKneCyYpIBKFRmuWAtoGkNKsw-ucnFFeKLpmRzkVBpTPw1DOrYh8O7LbhN_yMSF3XwbFHAyG3qd-YRrRKlVX3o/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I am following a series of prompts for a few posts</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-74225052229507378832024-01-06T01:00:00.001-08:002024-01-06T01:00:00.137-08:00Happy things for January<div style="text-align: center;">Its time for the monthly focus on my blessings, not my troubles. I find that flexing that gratitude muscle is as important as physical exercise. Does that mean I am better at it? Maybe not yet - I have a ways to go. But practice makes perfect, right? Here are current things to be happy about:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsrGiaR90mtfEwBPgf_JxFsgtJrkqpvBaq76rIroXBtxI3zNWh71aGeQTN3EwLXWJ122_XHA3gdQCtKdrjLLwwCl3xTlsjZ8qRKexeh6RHQ-fJAdq2YGpjK95WJpvnZ1vHTzfOC4FvkVI0hx-_rWlBFgC0nmxAivU4TpDIitRHksKqimkblITY5qkqGU/s4004/20231228_172042%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4004" data-original-width="2253" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsrGiaR90mtfEwBPgf_JxFsgtJrkqpvBaq76rIroXBtxI3zNWh71aGeQTN3EwLXWJ122_XHA3gdQCtKdrjLLwwCl3xTlsjZ8qRKexeh6RHQ-fJAdq2YGpjK95WJpvnZ1vHTzfOC4FvkVI0hx-_rWlBFgC0nmxAivU4TpDIitRHksKqimkblITY5qkqGU/w360-h640/20231228_172042%20(1).jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Less beer, but not no beer</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*The year ended on a calm and quiet note and my family had a good Christmas. I stayed well within my budget and plans and I think that set a positive example for my adult kids. As one of them stated, (Christmas) "doesn't have to be exactly the same every year", which tells me that they understand the need for holidays to evolve for us as a family. Another lightbulb moment for me!</div><div style="text-align: left;">*The tile job is finished as far as I'm concerned. I have plans in place and lists made and I am moving forward with the things I want to do for my house and that doesn't involve dealing with that tile guy ever again. A lesson or two was learned.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*Grayson is no longer commuting to San Marcos in the Baja, and for now he is done with school.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I survived my two week bout with RSV and am feeling better overall. I have started back on my walking. Health-wise, I am doing my best at making healthy choices, which also includes far less drinking.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I have already started on the yearly purging and cleaning and organizing of the spaces in my home and I have a plan for moving forward with projects and that gives me such a feeling of accomplishment and control! I'm going to enlist the boys' help more often as well.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's not a bad list of happy things for January!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpHxTpkQN8HAIiRF6RI-aN2cL1fSEaakLDflYxbCKxEgSebUrOF0heQ1dQokHyenYOEuuLejw_YuKEsJr08gDDWOm1_dGdYwqdI4kvZu4V4aBDjEtRqFvvs4ovWTt_0Z88SUr2suDomS2UIien-oEMm15QvhL_HNJh_p9y1v4JzNpEyP1wf9JPd6UOLk/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixpHxTpkQN8HAIiRF6RI-aN2cL1fSEaakLDflYxbCKxEgSebUrOF0heQ1dQokHyenYOEuuLejw_YuKEsJr08gDDWOm1_dGdYwqdI4kvZu4V4aBDjEtRqFvvs4ovWTt_0Z88SUr2suDomS2UIien-oEMm15QvhL_HNJh_p9y1v4JzNpEyP1wf9JPd6UOLk/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-52186306310611451712023-12-30T07:04:00.000-08:002024-01-06T17:34:32.855-08:00If I could tell him about my year, what would I say?*<div style="text-align: left;"> Dear Mark,</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Here is a quick month-by-month rundown of what 2023 looked like for me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhby23-cuWiaj6G5HwH6pwTf3IpU8EX95TIxuj0XcVsRyLmQdFyBjKfhNL3g_GxouLYBe09uzOYox0ZIsrqPwiKOiNqWj6X3UB-R9ghn7Uv7BGKBtwlSISD8Rp_JlGcH-ToibRweIlxQYedOHw4v47gJOgnnYXAMpfU2anf7b5ZUT96ES4ffYzPFVwJk6E/s1080/Screenshot_20231218_131405_Facebook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1037" data-original-width="1080" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhby23-cuWiaj6G5HwH6pwTf3IpU8EX95TIxuj0XcVsRyLmQdFyBjKfhNL3g_GxouLYBe09uzOYox0ZIsrqPwiKOiNqWj6X3UB-R9ghn7Uv7BGKBtwlSISD8Rp_JlGcH-ToibRweIlxQYedOHw4v47gJOgnnYXAMpfU2anf7b5ZUT96ES4ffYzPFVwJk6E/w400-h384/Screenshot_20231218_131405_Facebook.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I wish I knew how this whole "swimming through grief" thing is done.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>January - </b>Made a nice meal which none of our kids showed up to, resolved to never cook ham balls again, met Deb for a beer, paid Texas State, got bad advice from Spencer about a repair for my car (which I ignored), had a bout of gastritis, got a mammo, celebrated Spencer's birthday, dropped off my car for major repair, took a week off for a big ice storm that damaged our trees, cried and drank, thought about you on your birthday, as always.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>February</b> - Called my mother on the regular, picked up items she said she needed (thread, sewing machine bulb, ironing board cover), took fallen limbs to the curb, paid Texas State, picked Deb up for a wine club pick-up, took a load of crap to Goodwill, cleaned at mom's, cried, worked on my back yard, saw the dentist, went to Highlands, let Dylan move back home.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>March</b> - Called Mother on her birthday, the internet went out because of squirrel chewing, replaced the water filters, has an asthma attack for the first time in my life, ordered curtain rods, paid Texas State, blogged, put new tires on the truck, bought Mom a rosebush and made her a pie, got an oil change, had a well-woman visit, met new friends at Circle Brewing (which has since closed), cried, posted your eulogy on this blog, cleaned the garage again, saw a dermatologist.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>April</b> - did more yard work, paid Texas State, checked on Highlands, make a crockpot full of food for Easter and no one showed up so I met a friend and her mother for a beer, had my last day at DCMC during a stressful week at work, cried, started at the new hospital, put out bulky trash for collection, cancelled the wine club, got a haircut, ate lunch out with my new team, cleaned out my kitchen cabinets, donated more crap, started working weekends.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>May</b> - made lists then didn't do the things on the lists, mulched the front landscaping, picked up wines at Perissos, started taking call every Wednesday, cleaned my oven, Mom had a breast biopsy and repeat mammo (its cancer), paid Texas State, took yet another load of crap to Goodwill, took my jewelry to JA to be cleaned, cried, threw out all of your shoe polish, steam cleaned the carpets, refinished the kitchen cabinets, called the handyman for Highlands, worked Memorial Day, had an eye exam, our kids forgot Mother's Day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>June</b> - Ordered new protectors for my phone as I keep dropping it, refinished the coffee tables, started weekly mowing and edging, cried, cleaned out two gutters, shredded a bunch of paperwork, sent money to Grayson, tried to fix the ceiling fans, called the tile guy, went to Highlands with Dylan to oversee pipe repair by a really weird handyman, found a realtor to list Highlands, scrubbed and sealed the deck, saw my mother, paid the trailer tags, sold Highlands/canoe/trailer, got my labs drawn, replaced my landscape lights, took extra call, got Mom's echo results, got in trouble with Chloe for not group texting on Father's Day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>July</b> - I worked July 4th, Mom had a mastectomy, painted the backdoor, met with financial advisor at credit union, failed at finding a new counselor for me, met a friend for a beer, picked up some important documents in downtown Austin, sold your guitars, really cried, closed on Highlands, bought tires for my car, Mom had a stroke and fell - visited her in the ICU, brought Grayson home from Texas State, hospice arranged for Mom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>August</b> - Visited mom in Bryan hospital several times, took several big batteries to the recycle center, Mom transferred to Caldwell Rehab, drove to Caldwell several times in 100 degree plus heat, took the Baja in for repairs, found Grayson drunk and puking in a ziploc at home, started working to manage mom's affairs, got a steroid shot for severe knee pain, organized all the tools, got off the antidepressant, never called out, saw my doctor, send a craft project to a friend, cried, got my roof inspected, got more trees trimmed, changed homeowners and auto insurance, saw the dentist.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>September</b> - took paint to the recycle center, had more routine maintenance on my car, visited Mom at Melissa's house a couple times a week, worked on finding a nursing home, had Home Depot come measure the floors, euthanized <a href="https://cannarymom.blogspot.com/2023/09/gus.html">Gus</a>, cleaned Mom's house and gathered up her mail, put more bulky trash out, met with mom's financial advisor, spent hours at Wells Fargo, spent hours at Chase, put new tires on the Baja, initiated a long term care policy claim for mom, celebrated Chloe's birthday, got a refund check from the first nursing home and found a more suitable place, so much crying, went to Brenham again to check mail and set up timers, tile guy delivered tile, stressful move of Mom to Spanish Oaks where she then died a few hours later. Chloe told me "I'm sorry that happened" but the rest of them did not acknowledge it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>October</b> - planned a funeral, wrote an obit and arranged it to be published, agreed to help Spencer re-home his cats which didn't pan out, took Dylan and Chloe with me to abovementioned funeral, got a haircut, noticed the fridge is leaking, guest bathroom tile job was begun, found Grayson passed out in his room, cried and panicked, painted and purged my office, got rid of the wine fridge and about a dozen wine glasses, celebrated Dylan's birthday, took jewelry in for repair.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>November</b> - Took paperwork and files to mom's executor/lawyer, including all of her wet and ruined mail from the post office, got the name of a new therapist I won't follow up on, put a Christmas tree up in my bedroom, noticed the fence is falling and called a fence company for a quote, got the tile job done in my bathroom, made cinnamon dough for ornament tags, cried, got my air ducts cleaned, had the switch replaced in the boy bathroom, replaced the shower stall splash guard, got TxTag to cancel your account, took a beginner Tai Chi class, took myself to a movie, (two of our four kids forgot my birthday), cleaned the house/cooked all of the food/hosted Thanksgiving after working a 6 hour shift, decorated the Christmas tree with Dylan, cried a lot, thrift shopped and found a dress for Christmas Eve. Made my New Year's resolutions early.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>December</b> - Battled a 2 week respiratory illness, took more things to Goodwill, haggled with T-Mobile over my bill, got a contact number for the hospital chaplain, got Harry's diamond cufflinks turned into earrings (Merry Christmas to me), changed the air filters, put together all of Christmas gifts, decided not to send out cards, decorated the house, cried, didn't drink as much, paid the 6 months due tags on the Baja, found another of your knives to give Grayson for his birthday, got rid of most of the firewood, made fudge, participated in Secret Santa at work, attended church virtually on Christmas Eve, hosted the kids for Christmas Day, celebrated Grayson's birthday, un-decorated/cleaned/organized the week after Christmas, finally got Grayson to tell me he didn't pass his last class, moved some furniture around, took Christmas down, watched Netflix and read, and will work the entire weekend of New Year's.</div><div style="text-align: center;">******</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Hopefully this recap will look far different in 2024.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjL-aCaEDSt110IabJ1TUEkfeiCAvUh4W8M7R3ityyWJCzluM5BlhWrBfHOUXE65CK5lYRCkruZ3EDZfz8YqrZqIsaczld-5JXg5MvlZ_Ca5GqbY2eHHq-F31IXCGeoWY71NtvjEQ87DYgJg_IJBtLadUfo6ibskNIXzKY0MnWJl7fls68ZiHXchJV2oI/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjL-aCaEDSt110IabJ1TUEkfeiCAvUh4W8M7R3ityyWJCzluM5BlhWrBfHOUXE65CK5lYRCkruZ3EDZfz8YqrZqIsaczld-5JXg5MvlZ_Ca5GqbY2eHHq-F31IXCGeoWY71NtvjEQ87DYgJg_IJBtLadUfo6ibskNIXzKY0MnWJl7fls68ZiHXchJV2oI/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I'm following a series of prompts for a few posts.</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-44174289036159598882023-12-23T01:00:00.000-08:002023-12-23T07:30:38.889-08:00Something that makes me feel cared for*<div style="text-align: center;">I was sick recently with some kind of respiratory bug and on a phone call with another co-worker she suddenly asked "Can I bring you something? maybe some Sudafed?" You know how someone sounds when they are truly ill? They sound nasal-y, tired, annoyed, defeated.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It was me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmIwtJe7rDsRCLWp68p2XusxaX4_9EGZh3x509NgoslRpMyASZTLYD12T6ZmfuL3h9Cosxsg67-03XPxayBeg9fxaoJ6i0ZCEzo6lJSZTsSICb2cRZwRpUe3YVhhTTapMVvzulBkFYG65lovp1iQkdSvlLpNhLMc9sZsfzs7_by1WWjJz7Gn3F7_LeNM/s4032/20231209_112514.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFmIwtJe7rDsRCLWp68p2XusxaX4_9EGZh3x509NgoslRpMyASZTLYD12T6ZmfuL3h9Cosxsg67-03XPxayBeg9fxaoJ6i0ZCEzo6lJSZTsSICb2cRZwRpUe3YVhhTTapMVvzulBkFYG65lovp1iQkdSvlLpNhLMc9sZsfzs7_by1WWjJz7Gn3F7_LeNM/w400-h225/20231209_112514.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"I'll bring you that. Anything else?" It kind of made me want to cry, to tell you the truth. Turns out she emptied her medicine cabinet and brought me a grocery sack full of OTC delights. I'm so used to not having anyone pinch hit for me in life. Even the people who live at home with me listened to me choke, cough, and cry for several days before they really noticed. I wasn't asking for sympathy, but it would be nice for us all to look out for each other.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Leave it to another working mom to SEE you and offer some Sudafed and TLC. Will that be my last physical illness of 2023? God, I hope so.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicEdgNjymvZtyEkAeZd-tkJHfM9bjt1IxXYI5WLrtt5ST6QjIs-GULbervHu7nJXfovV5nGwR7ZL6UpQCTVRijYBhyarrDYsU9-JUC3EXEDm37Wo4SrvSgAIcQaZ1YxALGgeybTwcEbjLDjmMig1nVPgs_oxfGeGeaHWmki9GYnbfS5S0eWNaIkeo4gSw/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicEdgNjymvZtyEkAeZd-tkJHfM9bjt1IxXYI5WLrtt5ST6QjIs-GULbervHu7nJXfovV5nGwR7ZL6UpQCTVRijYBhyarrDYsU9-JUC3EXEDm37Wo4SrvSgAIcQaZ1YxALGgeybTwcEbjLDjmMig1nVPgs_oxfGeGeaHWmki9GYnbfS5S0eWNaIkeo4gSw/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I'm following a series of prompts for a few posts.</div></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-39581566368698134902023-12-16T01:00:00.000-08:002024-03-10T12:22:20.155-07:00A mantra for feeling overwhelmed*<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I don't always believe the words in my head, but I hear them in my mother's voice as she tells me:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">"You can do this, Gina. You're a strong woman." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFFVnvDqZknGfeit0epOxBTIllsp1MFex0anyIZzYtxmkPngl21NG4M570h-r4PnpU_ZxJSKDHsQjIT4nQOZqrRSgMoC9Ttv4T-96CX5sREoD6u7HvaihUUfE4e-CG12Q4rlrWg9JJQs61O4Ni-cELJY7Ss2TOlvUzLhE_W7NkHFBvVjeiDylfg7uhxY/s3601/20180805_101556_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2984" data-original-width="3601" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFFVnvDqZknGfeit0epOxBTIllsp1MFex0anyIZzYtxmkPngl21NG4M570h-r4PnpU_ZxJSKDHsQjIT4nQOZqrRSgMoC9Ttv4T-96CX5sREoD6u7HvaihUUfE4e-CG12Q4rlrWg9JJQs61O4Ni-cELJY7Ss2TOlvUzLhE_W7NkHFBvVjeiDylfg7uhxY/w400-h331/20180805_101556_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>trees are amazing - as they grow they bend, rather than break</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I<span style="font-family: verdana;"> didn't ask to be in this life situation I am now. I did not approve of all these changes. <b> I don't particularly feel strong.</b> I'm being handed a lot of shi*t I don't want. And yet I get up every day, make my bed, put my clothes on, and get to work, so maybe that's all that strength is anyway. When I pray, I ask God for more strength, just so I can get through this terrible time and see what's on the other side. Because what else would I ask for?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There might be something great ahead, so I will e</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">xpect the best.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fKT9hF2Frrqnv0DSCtZAbl2IlrCb5bq9az-QPoq3XupRgyl6WqzTaB9NqgNNsYHm9HXUIgp_WxFZ7o6T8j9BPs6FVzv0Og_1P-RUvIBFjE4dj4PU9rlw5fIOLFfR6VJuDCOPQWk7hF4SLwqu0DDpp6zFmM0DfVfnMEznrRRKfYx5iEuHhO_pY9S7B4w/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fKT9hF2Frrqnv0DSCtZAbl2IlrCb5bq9az-QPoq3XupRgyl6WqzTaB9NqgNNsYHm9HXUIgp_WxFZ7o6T8j9BPs6FVzv0Og_1P-RUvIBFjE4dj4PU9rlw5fIOLFfR6VJuDCOPQWk7hF4SLwqu0DDpp6zFmM0DfVfnMEznrRRKfYx5iEuHhO_pY9S7B4w/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I'm following a series of prompts for a few posts.</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-72427621896234601872023-12-09T01:00:00.000-08:002023-12-10T16:23:40.139-08:00One thing I can do today to make life easier*<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="text-align: center;">One thing I have been meaning to do lately is to start up walking again. Getting started is a mental struggle more than anything else. Just trying to force myself out of my routine and put on my tennies and GO is so hard. But I know it would make my life better (therefore easier) in many ways. I would:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">*sleep better</div><div style="text-align: center;">*have more energy during the day</div><div style="text-align: center;">*get some sun and fresh air</div><div style="text-align: center;">*probably feel better mentally</div><div style="text-align: center;">*meet neighbors and get reacquainted with my neighborhood</div><div style="text-align: center;">*probably increase my metabolism, helping me lose weight</div><div style="text-align: center;">*lower my blood pressure</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeDkn4wHIVuFEwtlrnXGz3Z-E11bYYd67iqWUtWwPaZMgXbjpG1dY-HWikEt6wp0OU2qCTgfgw9h23d2NDq3q5v-IWFqgUzhyphenhyphenCCvALYi-JzLpADu_jnToAAKE3l7XYgP5AGu3QYLCWoTUOmRYkpXIWHhOjP6vxHw644YB_fB1Qhd8_kV0IT9Sb3rp0JtY/s1080/Screenshot_20231202_102627_Facebook.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="1080" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeDkn4wHIVuFEwtlrnXGz3Z-E11bYYd67iqWUtWwPaZMgXbjpG1dY-HWikEt6wp0OU2qCTgfgw9h23d2NDq3q5v-IWFqgUzhyphenhyphenCCvALYi-JzLpADu_jnToAAKE3l7XYgP5AGu3QYLCWoTUOmRYkpXIWHhOjP6vxHw644YB_fB1Qhd8_kV0IT9Sb3rp0JtY/w320-h306/Screenshot_20231202_102627_Facebook.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">ha ha!</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I went so far as to buy a new pair of tennies that I have used only a handful of times. I even parked them right by the front door. What I need to do is set an alarm with The Google Lady, my phone, and ask one of the boys or a friend to help me be accountable.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can do that.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just have to get started, and really that is the hardest part.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVG4-o82c_Y7lUu3avn7scPtY3IFViVlVG2z7jRYOBF535JSw8VKNrGEWzYm0eO626HLgknV9YfSpWDiOqTjJijeLyifj55FvoZpm4IfsH0J-2YbeIjYpxo_5yIBG9pWOwjunaneFBEMhac8T-eUdviHap2UA8YB8e6oV1rjPfjdA11rRGj5uwnZjpTk/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVG4-o82c_Y7lUu3avn7scPtY3IFViVlVG2z7jRYOBF535JSw8VKNrGEWzYm0eO626HLgknV9YfSpWDiOqTjJijeLyifj55FvoZpm4IfsH0J-2YbeIjYpxo_5yIBG9pWOwjunaneFBEMhac8T-eUdviHap2UA8YB8e6oV1rjPfjdA11rRGj5uwnZjpTk/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div>*I'm following a series of prompts for a few posts. It was an idea I found on a grief website, and I remember which one, I will come back and update this post.</div></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-54275335564309141712023-12-02T01:00:00.000-08:002023-12-02T01:00:00.153-08:00Happy things for December 2023<div style="text-align: center;">My December home is sanctuary. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBgqoE8QPAx4lfZ2Hv0XMQt59lemrRQDFFmjb6l4BcrLSMecDP7zsh-QJM6g_ImDvKLBMqr6vi5jvZNVsnmyYgtNQ5mhUNab28Gt2WwGzuFdjryw8Y9VgE51mwfAZw-Prw8HZ56lT_Il0w3bOCZPET3uMOPmJEdNGUVc8iWJ3GZURXijMHe4bI8LwusU/s3510/20231124_151452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3510" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBgqoE8QPAx4lfZ2Hv0XMQt59lemrRQDFFmjb6l4BcrLSMecDP7zsh-QJM6g_ImDvKLBMqr6vi5jvZNVsnmyYgtNQ5mhUNab28Gt2WwGzuFdjryw8Y9VgE51mwfAZw-Prw8HZ56lT_Il0w3bOCZPET3uMOPmJEdNGUVc8iWJ3GZURXijMHe4bI8LwusU/w414-h640/20231124_151452.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Peaceful, quiet, beautiful, relaxed. Just what I want to feel.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*In November, I gave all of Mom's papers and mail to the attorney and now I am doing no more than the other three heirs in regards to her estate. It felt so lopsided for a bit there and I am glad not to have to worry so much about it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*Some random home repairs are off my list: the fan switch in the boys' bathroom has been replaced and the handyman also showed me where I did indeed wire the new switch in the ceiling fans correctly - its just that the fans failed. {go me?} The dryer vent was also cleaned and the mountain of dust and debris removed was scary and amazing and I am SO glad it was done. The tile job is FINISHED as well. Three things off my Rustown list.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I was done with Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving and stayed within a very reasonable budget. I am looking forward to Fudge Day as its my homemade gift for my peeps. I find that I really love to create a homemade gift.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I'm off work Christmas Day, and if the weather allows I will take a nice long walk, eat a delish meal, read for a bit, and relax with a nap! And I am looking forward to working my regular shift on New Year's Day as a send-off to the '23 holiday season. </div><div style="text-align: left;">*Grayson will be done commuting to San Marcos.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*My nails are back to growing and look great. I got some jewelry repairs done and am enjoying said jewelry. I started up walking again. And health-wise, everything is on an even keel for me right now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">All is calm. All is bright.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFE9aNf7ZWrrMTLK8S0jaRfqwHl57SW_Hgwl2gnziBLV4nWfFB-BYmU1-fs13glIyFRjZajvD2iQwZnbrtTQU3vO3nIN8CeOSJNwEQAKMSA52RdZYf7pqWhjtuPkOTct71LUBmMydfYpGq4cho3KbKDLJc6xYAYx2TJ7bVM90YJ4_n3aflcKGV5P41jvQ/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFE9aNf7ZWrrMTLK8S0jaRfqwHl57SW_Hgwl2gnziBLV4nWfFB-BYmU1-fs13glIyFRjZajvD2iQwZnbrtTQU3vO3nIN8CeOSJNwEQAKMSA52RdZYf7pqWhjtuPkOTct71LUBmMydfYpGq4cho3KbKDLJc6xYAYx2TJ7bVM90YJ4_n3aflcKGV5P41jvQ/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-37767183917035574662023-11-26T11:00:00.000-08:002023-12-10T16:24:48.304-08:00One thing I want to remember about Mark and Mom*<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Mom</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> She had such <b>strength</b>. She may have cried and felt immense sadness, but she always managed to "pull her socks up" (her words) and get on with the business of life with great dignity. As a single working mom, she set such a strong example for me and I try every day to think of that as I navigate this whole messy grief life. Did she feel her losses deeply? Yes. Did she manage to create a life for herself just the same? Also yes. And she never forgot Jim, a big loss. She forever loved and missed him, but carried on bravely with faith. She was a powerful force in my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwM9nwduoICKionEGttMysQHx3wcaL5daEgAli1I8J_OEhoAd9b2v40G8waRNdbye8pVm2RzQmiJkeMahecQpaBTkmjkgCKa4_l_DPG7l543BSpGj-gxoABWxVtb0s1zBiALSuZplvqPN4dQLjeqsHE4WhAf4DykBw_bM-ECxQ-IbPICzVzoop4AMmc_g/s1086/FB_IMG_1699562039231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="420" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwM9nwduoICKionEGttMysQHx3wcaL5daEgAli1I8J_OEhoAd9b2v40G8waRNdbye8pVm2RzQmiJkeMahecQpaBTkmjkgCKa4_l_DPG7l543BSpGj-gxoABWxVtb0s1zBiALSuZplvqPN4dQLjeqsHE4WhAf4DykBw_bM-ECxQ-IbPICzVzoop4AMmc_g/w248-h640/FB_IMG_1699562039231.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mark</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"> His <b>love for me</b> was true, steadfast, and strong. He never stopped loving me, even when I was un-loveable. He may have been cross with me at times, but it never changed how he felt about me deep down inside. No matter whether he harbored some regret in his life over choices he made, I always knew where I stood with him. Did I push his buttons? Yes. Did he push mine? Also yes. I hope I was able to express to him how much he meant to me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7TEWnmST9m8I_MX_WGBJ7ezZmkiyPOXgM8blyKI0x7MN2tWVtg3U50TQbNiBCWhElMqMpMAW3nCnjgd9oap1Gr_TAgiMZ5ZNI2pLza1AA0-VNLifcI0raLbZaOoYHvG0CcVDf5P9XNosn1kBv90934KLooT39kwSfQ73kvzA_Izeuylt5SwNt8rkIdeM/s649/Screenshot_20230530_142130_Chrome.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="614" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7TEWnmST9m8I_MX_WGBJ7ezZmkiyPOXgM8blyKI0x7MN2tWVtg3U50TQbNiBCWhElMqMpMAW3nCnjgd9oap1Gr_TAgiMZ5ZNI2pLza1AA0-VNLifcI0raLbZaOoYHvG0CcVDf5P9XNosn1kBv90934KLooT39kwSfQ73kvzA_Izeuylt5SwNt8rkIdeM/w379-h400/Screenshot_20230530_142130_Chrome.jpg" width="379" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The best things about two of the best people, who I miss deeply.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-UvoKMsyMoeCS44vMLbbuhrLBx2HKAc9ZqZJqh6B5ANWsJyPtqJvRZwvRuhyf44cgA5CKgPV6fqQfo5oH0_Hb9wxnZS5FLt1j7bCj7LcHz9naFlosyVNAv9KY2ZuP_oEV4SNfto9bOF3rAqT2cXvzHenHjOMcnSiI85IJUqve5wbYjT2v3TTFk7t2CI/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-UvoKMsyMoeCS44vMLbbuhrLBx2HKAc9ZqZJqh6B5ANWsJyPtqJvRZwvRuhyf44cgA5CKgPV6fqQfo5oH0_Hb9wxnZS5FLt1j7bCj7LcHz9naFlosyVNAv9KY2ZuP_oEV4SNfto9bOF3rAqT2cXvzHenHjOMcnSiI85IJUqve5wbYjT2v3TTFk7t2CI/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*I'm following a series of prompts for a few posts.</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-43697787866530660232023-11-18T07:49:00.000-08:002023-11-18T09:41:08.854-08:00Is home wherever Mom is?<div style="text-align: center;"> Last year I wrote a carefully worded and heartfelt Christmas card to my grown kids and included it with a mountain of Christmas goodies, a meaningful gift of Mark's pocketknives, and fun Santa hat stocking stuffers. {was I still trying to "make" Christmas for them because I felt terrible still that they had lost their Dad? Possibly.} I asked them to please stay close, lean on each other, and let me know how things are in your world because I still want to "mom" you through these tough times. And what was the upshot of those cards, do you think?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not only did no one respond to them, but a week later on New Year's Day, my daughter informed me that she wasn't coming over for dinner because she was ready to move on with her life. The others, though they made a point in asking me if I were going to make Ham Balls (which I did) just no-showed, no-called. Were my feelings hurt? Yes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0C_DIn63ECQ5qBiDowXxIfrl2vWYnpWlU43zLnYDcg3dhFiTh7s0QV7OrpIC6WeTj-DbmydOOPVQAeCbM1KaFNi2S6f_QnOBdifDEp3s9K15xmLDZjBQdlaBvDXHG4YwNQFZZyAiLFkgHFnmypZ1X4f_QErzGvdwQ3JI4wuD4xu5bzzXhPPFQU78DMA/s4032/20231115_161011.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt0C_DIn63ECQ5qBiDowXxIfrl2vWYnpWlU43zLnYDcg3dhFiTh7s0QV7OrpIC6WeTj-DbmydOOPVQAeCbM1KaFNi2S6f_QnOBdifDEp3s9K15xmLDZjBQdlaBvDXHG4YwNQFZZyAiLFkgHFnmypZ1X4f_QErzGvdwQ3JI4wuD4xu5bzzXhPPFQU78DMA/w225-h400/20231115_161011.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And so its been almost a year. And I feel as though I only hear from any of them when they need a haircut, a dog sitter, a place to live when their relationships fall apart, or phone/car/food. But offering to continue providing for them in a one sided relationship was not was I was suggesting in that card.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mark was only the first wave of a tsunami of change that has hit my family, and I see that clearly now. There will be other waves to follow. I can either let them drown me, or I can build a raft (life). Home may be wherever Mom is, but Mom has to decide for herself what that future home will be and how I manage the relationships in it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b><i>Gina</i></b></span></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-28996779488455555092023-10-28T01:00:00.002-07:002023-10-28T01:00:00.142-07:00Things I love about my job<div style="text-align: center;">What a difference a year makes!</div><div style="text-align: center;">A year ago, I was miserable at my job, and I had been for at least a couple of years.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pp73ZoAqEVGmIAhR4VXi5bBwLgJ0ptpWkfPQiiZmSyOZ7QLujLceb3uTn2o_YQKbRIXCXITLDxsd0T8FloJtmub8mkjvn-78JUaLJELsb3pjCP5dEF5iGaxKonqdWJMxkpjG-u8_XY4dF8GAs-TC1nuaqDkHe-wwGLhUeayUptoTtYzZwigsKbD1hgY/s4032/20231023_110131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pp73ZoAqEVGmIAhR4VXi5bBwLgJ0ptpWkfPQiiZmSyOZ7QLujLceb3uTn2o_YQKbRIXCXITLDxsd0T8FloJtmub8mkjvn-78JUaLJELsb3pjCP5dEF5iGaxKonqdWJMxkpjG-u8_XY4dF8GAs-TC1nuaqDkHe-wwGLhUeayUptoTtYzZwigsKbD1hgY/w400-h225/20231023_110131.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>One of the rooms I spend a large portion of my weekends in!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mark knew it, too. So we devised a plan.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The plan was to learn a new modality (CT), wait until the new hospital opened, then commute from Burnet to Austin for a part-time position there. You know what they say about the best laid plans; one calamity after another happened. But I did eventually make it to the new place. And I have to say, though it has taken me a few months to settle in to the routine of my new shift, I couldn't be happier that I made the move.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3VdDwrXciotWZehwqAv14_GHQjn_PGSp6WxVPgAULV0NkUsj3xMdmXy3P6ES-VA9_TP2OJRrXcxEdjhRtWfb9I6qO1tIfFmpj-osfRyupqeUG47bd0G7C66ZTgaY_jIDs-nN8vRGVJJ6YLov5oarIlK50pgvIHHTB1KqWzByxA_-1NPFjHGcj2yTRJ4/s4032/20231023_110209.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3VdDwrXciotWZehwqAv14_GHQjn_PGSp6WxVPgAULV0NkUsj3xMdmXy3P6ES-VA9_TP2OJRrXcxEdjhRtWfb9I6qO1tIfFmpj-osfRyupqeUG47bd0G7C66ZTgaY_jIDs-nN8vRGVJJ6YLov5oarIlK50pgvIHHTB1KqWzByxA_-1NPFjHGcj2yTRJ4/w400-h225/20231023_110209.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For starters: I'm not overworked and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work. I'm not on my feet all day, sometimes going without lunch, being sent to challenging situations, running all over a huge Level I trauma hospital for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. <b>Although I work three 12 hour shifts per week,</b> <b>I have plenty of time to sit, regroup, recharge.</b> <b>And I don't go without breaks.</b> I don't have a narcissistic boss who hates women, discourages upward mobility, and discounts every rational suggestion or reasonable idea. <b>My boss buys us snacks and sits and talks to us in the workroom. Communication could be better, but suggestions and input are welcome. </b>I don't work with people who call out, slack off, or bring their personal drama to work making a challenging day harder for everyone else. <b>I genuinely like my co-workers and we are all happy to be there - many of transferred from the bigger hospital. </b>The equipment is new, not perfect, but I'm proficient on it. After 6 months, I know my way around the hospital and most of the employees I come in contact with. There is plenty of parking at street level, a Keurig in every breakroom, music on Pandora in the workroom, and I earn more money than I ever have.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Most importantly, I feel valued.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's a lot to love about my job!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBKbefPE8bdD9q6IyPSD8iS_fX2qPwVl-zaNj0lCjGUcqfSLIkHJtVjfWIxb6tPYG9EJkFByZ1-06DyiLIXIEtlASdtSDHr3eO9COr_cXoMv74PNaungeNXOnCAsKjuLnqYXbn3OFgbCiUlgAMMnXRazfgFh6goZQxW8XrmSakRqU3SOFlSobktyX7KE/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIBKbefPE8bdD9q6IyPSD8iS_fX2qPwVl-zaNj0lCjGUcqfSLIkHJtVjfWIxb6tPYG9EJkFByZ1-06DyiLIXIEtlASdtSDHr3eO9COr_cXoMv74PNaungeNXOnCAsKjuLnqYXbn3OFgbCiUlgAMMnXRazfgFh6goZQxW8XrmSakRqU3SOFlSobktyX7KE/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-2796840841378201492023-10-14T01:00:00.042-07:002023-10-14T12:18:35.968-07:00Mom<div style="text-align: center;"> Oh, this makes me sad to post.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But its been 2 weeks so here goes.</div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpB8h-EHfm2PKR3dcvp9TwA2Y-xgFWNC9a1y6ytdyUmzIZ-SvgXa4KP1nj0g8WpXN7QCuPJhcqunI1e68RxYRzz4dx4sCh84yA-iJTORv53NbuvglxZFXT7TWP6HPelQawty9IWJQ8OV-xIk8fwaFLIvfHG2J0PfV5k2I0O_qoLyTugTrrtyf3NSZmYgk/s2048/FB_IMG_1590423525689.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpB8h-EHfm2PKR3dcvp9TwA2Y-xgFWNC9a1y6ytdyUmzIZ-SvgXa4KP1nj0g8WpXN7QCuPJhcqunI1e68RxYRzz4dx4sCh84yA-iJTORv53NbuvglxZFXT7TWP6HPelQawty9IWJQ8OV-xIk8fwaFLIvfHG2J0PfV5k2I0O_qoLyTugTrrtyf3NSZmYgk/w400-h300/FB_IMG_1590423525689.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">Jeannette Ogden Parry </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;">3/01/1930 – 9/28/2023</span></b></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0in;">Jeannette Parry of Brenham Texas passed peacefully on September 28, 2023.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0in;">Born during The Great Depression, Jeannette, the daughter of Malcolm Ogden and Beatrice Pledger lived a simple, yet idyllic childhood spent roaming the woods and springs of rural East Texas with her brother Robert and cousin Charles, who both preceded her in death.. She graduated high school at age 16 in Coldsprings, Texas and as a young mother of three enrolled in XRay school at Herman Memorial Hospital. This set the stage for a lifetime of work in the medical field of Imaging. In the late 70's she increased her knowledge and training and was the first Ultrasound Technologist at John Sealy Hospital at UTMB in Galveston and served as Chief Technologist, living the example to her children of the importance of an education and training. She worked all over the United States and two hospitals in Saudi Arabia. She was an expert at anything she put her mind to: quilting, crochet, embroidery, cooking, raising chickens, gardening, traveling. She had a zest for life and an indomitable spirit.</p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0in;">Jeannette was married four times and had eight children – 6 girls and two boys: Jeannette, Sherry, Alene, Margaret, Kenneth (deceased), Gina, Melissa, and Kurt. She recently expressed how happy she was to have been a mother. In addition she had 23 grandchildren, 11 great grandchildren, and four great great grandchildren. She created a legacy of love and resilience in the face of adversity and was a force to be reckoned with. She was predeceased in death by all of her husbands, her son Kenneth, and her beloved companion Gus. Through it all, she never lost her faith or her strength of character. Good job, Mom - you were a courageous and strong woman who set an example for all of us. We look forward with great joy to being with you again someday. </p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0in;"><u></u></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0in;"><u></u></p><p align="center" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"><b><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">Some bright morning when this life is over</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I'll fly away</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">To that home on God's celestial shore</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I'll fly away</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I'll fly away oh glory</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I'll fly away in the morning</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">When I die hallelujah by and by</span><br /><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I'll fly away</span></b></p><p align="center" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">I just want to add, that I may have put a kinder touch to things or made it seem like a peaceful passing. But it wasn't, really. The last two months were traumatic and stressful for my sisters and myself. How much Mom understood was happening is unclear. There was a sense that she was trapped in a body and brain that did an incomplete job of dying. Since none of us knew exactly what to expect, what we should do, nor how to do it, grief started up almost immediately. And because of the way my mother arranged her affairs, it will be months before we can finalize them and move on.</span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">So, an 8 month timeline for my mother's mastectomy, stroke, fall, hospitalization, decline, death, burial, will probate, and disposition of property. </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">Cue hair loss.</span></div><p align="center" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></p><p align="center" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyPTA0cKXNP3_BzhmWbjLAZE1VjUiqDYxVleyKI4sRRqN5OYVcs9_jfD86Ip29SyJs3PdrGuE3tBPUjnpABYzO1B4geHuF-ajsEhozFtHKmjZ7Ac4bA17DQqQj0kjBXB66xKrU88ZXQGTfXwyHn0I8FiNwSOlIRs-9NauPMdYFgdQXMkARg9hMFZdjq8/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyPTA0cKXNP3_BzhmWbjLAZE1VjUiqDYxVleyKI4sRRqN5OYVcs9_jfD86Ip29SyJs3PdrGuE3tBPUjnpABYzO1B4geHuF-ajsEhozFtHKmjZ7Ac4bA17DQqQj0kjBXB66xKrU88ZXQGTfXwyHn0I8FiNwSOlIRs-9NauPMdYFgdQXMkARg9hMFZdjq8/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></p>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-68207503522907597742023-10-07T01:00:00.001-07:002023-10-07T01:00:00.160-07:00Happy things for October<div style="text-align: center;"> A little work-related humor:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMADGtu8GJFkUpTglYv824V58M03kK3qfTjrUdcoYgAl6ff4FY0vn6gQJUE2R5cXzAp6HWMcfcH3TasqL-IOgc41KDYlf4JuZWTWAzwxFvwcj2YngJnx8BdtvLfy_ZGZ5OuItTeCof2kmCoHVCieB_p19XWNQyl1TqpaUWpjZK7l87-14aJUezg0e3qbQ/s1328/Screenshot_20230928_065459_Chrome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1328" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMADGtu8GJFkUpTglYv824V58M03kK3qfTjrUdcoYgAl6ff4FY0vn6gQJUE2R5cXzAp6HWMcfcH3TasqL-IOgc41KDYlf4JuZWTWAzwxFvwcj2YngJnx8BdtvLfy_ZGZ5OuItTeCof2kmCoHVCieB_p19XWNQyl1TqpaUWpjZK7l87-14aJUezg0e3qbQ/w325-h400/Screenshot_20230928_065459_Chrome.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because this has happened to every XR tech</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*After a couple of months that were over-the-top stressful and terrible, Mom passed. I'm not sure if I will ever blog it. Maybe I will post her obit on this blog and write a few words. It may sound terrible to anyone reading this, but I feel relief mixed in with the sadness.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*The weather is cooling! We had a good drenching rain and the grass and shrubs and trees are greening up! Finally, Fall. </div><div style="text-align: left;">*I got myself scheduled for painless fillings on the bottom row of my front teeth that will improve my smile. I got a haircut that released a lot of bounce and looks far less straggly. I am getting back on a regular schedule with my vitamins. And I am not eating fast food or junk snacks. I am not letting grief or depression take over aspects of self-care.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*Grayson got a part-time job. I have big blocks of time where the house is all mine. I can play music loudly, do loud chores (vacuuming, putting up dishes), and cry when and where I need to. Hooray for alone time.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I continue to organize and clean out spaces at my house - it feels good to stay on top of things. I put out a few Fall decor items which make my home feel cozy and pretty. And I have plans to do some things for the house that the weather will make much pleasanter.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fall feels like a mini New Year.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2PJqudeTBjTSdkTrzvLq758s9DFipB_ykSTKytmjLgHABUrxT9gX-DWdGAqhlRa8WQkMksRntrbKMWW70T1seLA8DEsTlUkiBefOxJOiWf6-k4ft2QyUrhQcrwvPTecJ6bAYpLyzU1LZqdjy4ZIwFW1KicayMvzAEPerq6qBsl32xsPwp3bJoZtTsEk/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2PJqudeTBjTSdkTrzvLq758s9DFipB_ykSTKytmjLgHABUrxT9gX-DWdGAqhlRa8WQkMksRntrbKMWW70T1seLA8DEsTlUkiBefOxJOiWf6-k4ft2QyUrhQcrwvPTecJ6bAYpLyzU1LZqdjy4ZIwFW1KicayMvzAEPerq6qBsl32xsPwp3bJoZtTsEk/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-69874168226129501152023-09-23T01:00:00.003-07:002023-10-27T08:05:45.520-07:00Snail mail<div style="text-align: center;">As POA for Mom, I've had to rely on my stash of legal size envelopes, stamps, and return address labels a few times. That is in addition to having to fax things. The world runs on paper even still. Don't believe me? You will if you are ever in my situation... Fax machines are still in use, as well as paper, real ink signatures, and postage.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikg80JXO4TYnoeHyDJpwUBwWqBM37pZT9H2teM3yQhYGjK6-lyg3ZeDTrxkKNmxgYNZWxYGrsVvfhml8RQRzCIuieGg-IgDZQKUMymWBAEDuCLR_epAA9ht3OmF3nmdjJ_sGoOYIwGS_wY3kqJIR4zepJIj8k_Qo79JVPqoDRNFmkGh-qdbuTiLe1_3rE/s4032/20230920_192831.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikg80JXO4TYnoeHyDJpwUBwWqBM37pZT9H2teM3yQhYGjK6-lyg3ZeDTrxkKNmxgYNZWxYGrsVvfhml8RQRzCIuieGg-IgDZQKUMymWBAEDuCLR_epAA9ht3OmF3nmdjJ_sGoOYIwGS_wY3kqJIR4zepJIj8k_Qo79JVPqoDRNFmkGh-qdbuTiLe1_3rE/w360-h640/20230920_192831.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I ran out of legal size envelopes, so I added them to my grocery list. Previous to that, I was using just regular ole' envelopes, mostly to stay in touch with Mom. We have been "faithful correspondents" for years since before I went away to college. My handwriting was so sloppy that I started typing the letters - I was a busy mom of four, ya know. I knew that she was delighted to receive them - she told me that it was the first thing she opened when she found one in the mail. I wanted her to be able to read them with ease. First 16 pt, then 15 pt. Short and sweet - one page long. They were my opportunity to tell her all of the things that she had so little patience to listen to on the phone. And that was OK with me, as I knew she felt isolated and wanted to share what was going on in her life. Truth be told, I wanted to hear it. Even though she said I told her otherwise, I never did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9gzGzyAQqDWe4P_Nzf839rtiW4BoU01Zvc3FTyNL2BQ4RmUfVN_3Z1ENpGm3Lo1N7TIJX1UWgvDmu4yDWhxu127OhlFMXjXnPj51MSjJgYnFf3sb4HZQs_8KbIqbuRLxVK3NnDIGkrWk5FsLRbtNQMRrQPkldTBA2OFZgXykblXahMYMTU7bSycWEhc/s4032/20230920_192921.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9gzGzyAQqDWe4P_Nzf839rtiW4BoU01Zvc3FTyNL2BQ4RmUfVN_3Z1ENpGm3Lo1N7TIJX1UWgvDmu4yDWhxu127OhlFMXjXnPj51MSjJgYnFf3sb4HZQs_8KbIqbuRLxVK3NnDIGkrWk5FsLRbtNQMRrQPkldTBA2OFZgXykblXahMYMTU7bSycWEhc/w360-h640/20230920_192921.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Looking at the plastic bin under my desk is hard. I have no one else to write. Mother may have misunderstood a thing or two that I wrote to her, and she often "quoted" me incorrectly, but writing her a letter, at least once every week or two, kept me grounded and connected to her. At some point, I will collect all of those letters, that I am sure she never threw away, and add them to the collection of the letters she wrote to me in response. They span years and years as a diary of our life together as mother and daughter.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZiNmCRvZR1X2JDc1QBbbVXc06VUP0VBlREe-BryRpFwqF4-etbAJAHTDlUOpJViPbrntP1A6xKzSfeIaLizxfFwDsQqlEm7xosRafm_sAeK8WoFYk-O0_r9HnET8Yy_Qn4_ZfbppVAE3BEfeZSfdP0b_f7jZX-XTVYRMHSCVGZjRnUYYH86IFNhebpg/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZiNmCRvZR1X2JDc1QBbbVXc06VUP0VBlREe-BryRpFwqF4-etbAJAHTDlUOpJViPbrntP1A6xKzSfeIaLizxfFwDsQqlEm7xosRafm_sAeK8WoFYk-O0_r9HnET8Yy_Qn4_ZfbppVAE3BEfeZSfdP0b_f7jZX-XTVYRMHSCVGZjRnUYYH86IFNhebpg/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-54807322922240623562023-09-16T01:00:00.001-07:002023-09-16T01:00:00.135-07:00Gus<div style="text-align: center;">Months ago I asked Mom what the plan was for <a href="https://cannaryfamily.blogspot.com/2020/08/the-source-of-some-trouble.html">Gus</a> when it was time. She knew exactly what I was talking about. You know, Mom - when he's in pain or can't eat or can't get around? "Gina, why can't you let me be happy?" was her reply. (I hope to God she didn't trip over him and that's what caused her to fall just after her stroke...)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyt8hve3OM76Yo2gu5T80csZ3CT-CsF5Kv5f3eBX5NdVqUhXZ4Jx1t9LaZNGiCLdJEc0rPv31XNN9A0aXRLK-sMyt2WL1tGERsmWeENQFqWWcfcKig2v60jPHkEASo0ZGdZmB9EMrASy9zdyjL7niRhm_y17iyeIappl3IYEMmbbvrO4sSy8bvzRbLFuo/s2452/20221229_131934.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="2452" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyt8hve3OM76Yo2gu5T80csZ3CT-CsF5Kv5f3eBX5NdVqUhXZ4Jx1t9LaZNGiCLdJEc0rPv31XNN9A0aXRLK-sMyt2WL1tGERsmWeENQFqWWcfcKig2v60jPHkEASo0ZGdZmB9EMrASy9zdyjL7niRhm_y17iyeIappl3IYEMmbbvrO4sSy8bvzRbLFuo/w400-h370/20221229_131934.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I get that she didn't want to think of losing him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I also get that you can't just let him suffer needlessly after all this time as your faithful companion. Gus was plagued by glaucoma and could not see. Likely had migraines, according to the vet. Wasn't hearing too well. Had a limp, probably due to arthritis or dislocated hip. And had become incontinent. This wasn't going to work at my sister's house, and we didn't think anyone else was on the same page as we were. Offers to help weren't really realistic. Gus is an indoor dog and already a couple of years past his life expectancy. Mom wasn't aware of Gus; Gus wasn't aware of Mom. And there was no easy way around it - he had no quality of life and he needed us to relieve his suffering at the vet. It was time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So on Thursday, I did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm not a dog lover, in general. But I understand what he meant to her and I know she would not willingly part with him. But she was asked several times if she wanted to see Gus, and she said no. She had to know he was in a bad way. It was the second time I had to let a pet go this way, crying like a baby the whole time. I know my mother will forgive me one day when he greets her in heaven with his happy little barks and wagging tail. I have to believe that I made the right decision to end his suffering and act humanely.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Rest in peace, Gus. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7oh5Q1mO-fT7JrreQ50l5MazFlK_nF8wqwl5TEzQLEc9c20s5fKHEfUt5hdXPgKfgSldC_HNRl0R0ifNXEQ9TvHs2LTi7H3J7SxLeaK3ZELRGdI3DZlPweCCJcd4cTC0J9_fv2ETq-b2egParEiX11Wj3vPjoXa1zymTw2xsEQuHDjpGTsTymgNc6cY/s111/p.txt-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz7oh5Q1mO-fT7JrreQ50l5MazFlK_nF8wqwl5TEzQLEc9c20s5fKHEfUt5hdXPgKfgSldC_HNRl0R0ifNXEQ9TvHs2LTi7H3J7SxLeaK3ZELRGdI3DZlPweCCJcd4cTC0J9_fv2ETq-b2egParEiX11Wj3vPjoXa1zymTw2xsEQuHDjpGTsTymgNc6cY/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-81698865974808324782023-09-03T08:15:00.002-07:002023-09-27T04:58:23.098-07:00Its September<div style="text-align: center;">I wanted a whole lot of things to be different in September. I figured August was heading in the right direction, and I believe the "expect the best" motto, so why shouldn't things continue well? But as usual, life likes to throw curves at me, just to see if I'm prepared for the worst. And maybe I am, because I refuse to sink, even if this is not an enjoyable boat ride.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Mother sailed through her mastectomy, with very minor and much to be expected surgical side effects. She had one of my older sisters staying with her, which turns out was a very good thing. All along I feared that mom was no longer safe by herself and I believe I was right. Turns out she had fallen at least a couple of times before July - she just didn't tell all of us, least of all her doc. At two weeks post surgery she was feeling cantankerous and yelled at my sister that it was time for her to go. Which my sister did, not recognizing a change of behavior in my mother. And exactly three days later, mom had a stroke while standing, fell, and hit her head hard.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4Ko6SnOOLzVEwNWv5PH5j_XxjKJJ2UoFrqBdmiuLob3Iqu89I0QGZuN2zzOTmo-wbkBZsOJDnudI2S4SZoqmLyirHNWi2fbwp3ITUTiOy8GC52dSAcgy03rL4EQpOcVNWVe_nW7HUOciKN-DI6vpRhQM4nQThd7JWGMglEPra1YgbzOERE0OBKAc9GY/s4032/20230728_104917.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4Ko6SnOOLzVEwNWv5PH5j_XxjKJJ2UoFrqBdmiuLob3Iqu89I0QGZuN2zzOTmo-wbkBZsOJDnudI2S4SZoqmLyirHNWi2fbwp3ITUTiOy8GC52dSAcgy03rL4EQpOcVNWVe_nW7HUOciKN-DI6vpRhQM4nQThd7JWGMglEPra1YgbzOERE0OBKAc9GY/w400-h225/20230728_104917.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, stroke plus head trauma. Add in broken ribs.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She spent a couple weeks in the hospital, bouncing back and forth from ICU and Neuro. Then she got transferred to a rehab hospital, which was no rehab at all.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Were the 3 of us (two sisters and myself) using that time to find her a nursing home? Searching her house for Powers of Attorney or other legal paperwork? Cancelling her internet, cell phone, and newspaper, arranging for mail delivery and bill pay, caring for her house? Working together for her care and future living arrangements? All no. It was just crisis mismanagement and distrust from the start. This is what happens when you play your adult children against each other, allowing miscommunication to fester as you continue to insist that everything is fine and you're doing well on your own. Until you aren't.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Its only September 3rd as I type this, and maybe by the end of the month some big things will have been resolved, God willing, and we can spend this time loving her, not warring with each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyLXHBK7GHTuOIR38UpVWvblbIi6XbP4yjiZx7heeY1PtiA8auaRZ0JpUg5uyfKvvRtBUAnBmuIQCIbj4P1S4Mg5xsQxDfA-3L0Y9SF235LTkNXS2D0XA90IaNmxAlbTmfDIXF6YwKDxidXfcCVA-wkEPgDLeTcvjNeJHz_WARaiKWbf2q9S7BG9st9Q/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUyLXHBK7GHTuOIR38UpVWvblbIi6XbP4yjiZx7heeY1PtiA8auaRZ0JpUg5uyfKvvRtBUAnBmuIQCIbj4P1S4Mg5xsQxDfA-3L0Y9SF235LTkNXS2D0XA90IaNmxAlbTmfDIXF6YwKDxidXfcCVA-wkEPgDLeTcvjNeJHz_WARaiKWbf2q9S7BG9st9Q/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-75961135448097044642023-08-05T23:00:00.007-07:002023-08-05T23:00:00.130-07:00Happy things for August 2023<div style="text-align: center;">The happiest thing? July is over.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And although it still feels like hell on Earth outside, summer is at least halfway over, and that grass will recover... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOXyBoHYf8UD1N32XvuL4qW4bkjndVDIYTxwaNIwqC3JW41mbLLa57Q3JkCF6a3VOhE369LUi4kKmRlw__WIpNKowNwkyZfHM-Rl0d4hTgHgcj8OZh__cGQV1bo-YCZb0cPNPGi3omk9STTedWgCFzZdConFEuvSv-WeUgK2YS3nbIZAhKH4m-8wd_Ns/s4032/20230802_070841.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2268" data-original-width="4032" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMOXyBoHYf8UD1N32XvuL4qW4bkjndVDIYTxwaNIwqC3JW41mbLLa57Q3JkCF6a3VOhE369LUi4kKmRlw__WIpNKowNwkyZfHM-Rl0d4hTgHgcj8OZh__cGQV1bo-YCZb0cPNPGi3omk9STTedWgCFzZdConFEuvSv-WeUgK2YS3nbIZAhKH4m-8wd_Ns/w400-h225/20230802_070841.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Table for one, coffee with creamer, please.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love sitting on my deck, even tho its hot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fall can't be far away - no season skips its turn. But also:</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*I am going to get the last few maintenance items done on my car, and then I'm going to start the process of selling the truck. That will make room in the driveway as well as eliminate that expense for me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*2 of the 3 vehicles got updated (tags, titles, license plates) Expensive, but with a minimum of hassle. When Grayson graduates, I will sign the title and give it to him. From then on, not my expense.</div><div style="text-align: left;">*Related: my finances are improving. I did order myself a new purse. (:</div><div style="text-align: left;">*I have now been at my new hospital for 3 months and my work stress is greatly improved. Like comparing night to day! I like my co-workers, boss, commute time, pay, hours, equipment, and working conditions. What's not to like?</div><div style="text-align: left;">*After getting over that self-imposed 2 year hump, I am feeling better. I have a couple of books to read that are actually helpful, and I am dropping the antidepressant. I understand the grieving process - I know there will be rainy days ahead, too. But the sunny ones seem to be lasting longer now. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnzA8Oj5gEBVudRSJSUx_31G-M6_MtC8S9W3xLW7jXdDKK2JKEmTXZxuGaS67IXKV0EH82Nm-nrpIJ64Jdfw--u5i9Z10bZ186j47y_shp03WDghJbvTMrxFfM_09IvGZZOKURrNh4i2hOwZQmGtgYMoINoTbSipJk7M_aLVxGPvrMynPmlIsT_7GkYM/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnzA8Oj5gEBVudRSJSUx_31G-M6_MtC8S9W3xLW7jXdDKK2JKEmTXZxuGaS67IXKV0EH82Nm-nrpIJ64Jdfw--u5i9Z10bZ186j47y_shp03WDghJbvTMrxFfM_09IvGZZOKURrNh4i2hOwZQmGtgYMoINoTbSipJk7M_aLVxGPvrMynPmlIsT_7GkYM/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4780278932799556583.post-51513543147988910712023-07-24T19:52:00.003-07:002023-08-26T15:48:16.499-07:00Touchy feelies<div style="text-align: center;"> And I'm not referring to this cactus:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoenS9SvHG4p-7VscJXEig_BN9zB-1yM6oW6AEguxRv_OOQc0B_lRgzgUZuYl6Vr-Pxss3c8Gv8Aj4XFBYmUUjpiKxhx7y83dwm71IL3fk5Q-6PFj9Ue4Ba-Fn-HWRx5eakHFLXdhocZ254xz80M5-FyOv2UDTECKydgDT6LSWSvMFPhvsnYjOEGUj1k/s1310/20230718_102058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1310" data-original-width="1116" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoenS9SvHG4p-7VscJXEig_BN9zB-1yM6oW6AEguxRv_OOQc0B_lRgzgUZuYl6Vr-Pxss3c8Gv8Aj4XFBYmUUjpiKxhx7y83dwm71IL3fk5Q-6PFj9Ue4Ba-Fn-HWRx5eakHFLXdhocZ254xz80M5-FyOv2UDTECKydgDT6LSWSvMFPhvsnYjOEGUj1k/w341-h400/20230718_102058.jpg" width="341" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wouldn't try to be hugging this, myself.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I got into a bit of trouble for not sending out a message to my peeps on Father's Day. To tell you the truth, it was a hard day for me. I lost the man who was father to my kids aka My Loss, Too. I had time to think about it since then, and I came to the conclusion that I should have sent them all a little something. So, just like at Christmastime*, I wrote something to each of them first thing on Sunday morning to acknowledge that it was the 2 year anniversary. It was important to me that they didn't just suddenly realize that, later in the day. I wanted to remind each one of them that <b>he left a legacy of love and pride in his family and we can choose to make that the focus of our memory of him</b>. Now, would they have remembered the date themselves? Possibly. I didn't send it as a group text, because literally no one likes getting or responding to those. And by mid-afternoon, two of them responded. And that's because not everyone loves a touchy feelie note to remind them of a terrible day, and maybe they also didn't need me to suggest that this day was more than just an occasion to cry. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I mean, if that's what they want to do, fine. Crying can be cathartic.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But just because they don't mention that they got the message doesn't mean I won't do it again in the future. The subject of Mark is going to come up again and again and again and again...and eventually we will smile more than we cry. At least that is my touchy feely hope.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNv23qipx9PgCHBq722TJtoD5pV-AGlhMdh_20-CVfyA6BuUQt6q_CJbJjK85jP_UIyDORKx7To0JdUQhSwGci4Go6ntDUZGtDMnb9Cz9WJ65DfE-YXuJNCIeFd5Gx6hBQm__rkwFmquwrZbbbJULNOMDmZweigjqnyOaa25CaPde9jtPL8hh6UPw0EM/s111/p.txt-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="65" data-original-width="111" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNv23qipx9PgCHBq722TJtoD5pV-AGlhMdh_20-CVfyA6BuUQt6q_CJbJjK85jP_UIyDORKx7To0JdUQhSwGci4Go6ntDUZGtDMnb9Cz9WJ65DfE-YXuJNCIeFd5Gx6hBQm__rkwFmquwrZbbbJULNOMDmZweigjqnyOaa25CaPde9jtPL8hh6UPw0EM/s1600/p.txt-1.png" width="111" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*No one said a thing about the touchy feely Christmas card, but oh well.</div>Ginahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066210483640829174noreply@blogger.com0