It is difficult to believe it has been one year ago tonight that I was rushed to the hospital from my youngest daughter's home. Needless to say, my recall of last Christmas is not great nor are events in order. All I know for sure is that I spent Christmas Day in the Grove City hospital and that my family was called together because my outlook for recovery was not good. The morning after Christmas, I was moved to Butler Memorial Hospital where I had quadruple bypass surgery. The next eight days were spent in ICU and the next two in a step-down unit. Finally, I went home to my daughter's house on January 3. I don't recall much about New Year's, either.
My daughter asked me to come again this year, but I declined. Not so much because of fear of a re-run, but rather because I don't want to miss Midnight Mass at my church. I have much to be grateful for, even with all the negative events since my surgery. My cardiologist and cardiac surgeon both told me they didn't expect me to survive. The surgeon said someone must have been watching over me. Yes, that would be the angel I saw prior to surgery.
Today I am also recalling Christmases of the past. There are so many!! When I was a child, the only two children in the house were my brother, Bill, and me. Our family, like so many others in the '50s, didn't have a lot of money. Throughout the year, the only toys Bill and I received were the comic books our father let us buy when we went shopping. Those comic books were read and reread many times over. Christmas, however, was another story. Our parents didn't spare any expense and Bill and I received many, many Christmas gifts. I loved Christmas and still would love it if I wasn't alone.
I always had an extensive list of gifts I wanted, a list compiled from the Sears and Spiegel toy catalogs. Most of the time, I received what I asked for. One year, when I was in 6th grade, I got into a heated argument with another student who said there wasn't a Santa Claus. I insisted there was, because I had seen him on two occasions. Finally, the teacher drew me aside and told me the other student was right - that my parents were Santa Claus. I was crushed.
That same Christmas, as it turned out, was the one that my parents ordered our Christmas gifts from the Spiegel catalog. When the gifts hadn't arrived by Christmas Eve, my parents went to Vandergrift about an hour before closing time. It was dark and snowing and most people weren't out still shopping. Our Christmas gifts were bought at a small hardware store. If I hadn't been told at school that there wasn't a Santa Claus, I guess I would have found out that Christmas Eve anyway. Christmas was never the same, in a magical way of speaking, after that Christmas.
I know I was pretty old to still believe in Santa in 6th grade. I encouraged the same beliefs in my children, and I have found out in recent years that they only pretended to believe because they knew I wanted them to believe.
Well, I am still that little girl who wants to believe in the magic. That kind of hope has not stood me well in life, especially in relationships. It has helped my artwork.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Burglary, Death, Social Security and No Christmas
Sometimes, the crap just keeps hitting the fan. Sometimes, things seem to be getting worse instead of better. Sometimes, it seems as if there is a nasty devil directing bad stuff my way. The past month has had highs and lows. The highs have been related to my move to a new place, a wonderful place with plenty of room and perfect for me. The lows? My 27-year old nephew, a Staff Sgt. in the Air Force, died unexpectedly and was brought back here for burial. My heart just aches for my brother and sister-in-law having to endure this cruelest of life events.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Media Predictions and the Election
In light of the media circus surrounding predictions of election outcomes, I think we Americans should foil their results. Anytime you are called or approached on the street and asked the big question of the day, "Who are you voting for?", your response should be either to refuse to answer or to give the wrong answer. This would scramble all the media's reports and perhaps we could then have an honest, unbiased election of the candidate most favored by the American people, not by the liberal media.
The predictions are becoming ridiculous and the pundits are in a feeding frenzy. I wish we could go back to the days when the election results weren't determined by huge media corporations who are looking out for their own interests (and, of course, income). We have become a lot of sheep following the lead of people who really don't care how you are faring whether you are in the middle class or the lower class.
At this point, I believe the Democrats are making an attempt to shake up the three-class system in this country. They seem to want to eliminate the upper class, but the real attempt is to emerge with a two-class system. This is exactly what was attempted when Nixon was president - different time, different party. A two-class system where the 'elected' elite control the economy and YOUR income, while insuring their own power through accumulation of wealth into their own coffers. What do you honestly think Obama's comment to Joe the Plumber was about? To spread the wealth is a Socialistic concept, one which has been advocated by Obama and his political affiliations over the years. Take from the wealthy and give it to those who need it most. In other words, to the lower classes, not the middle class as he is saying. Watch out, America! We are about to be changed in ways you never would have dreamed.
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This blog world depends upon 'hits' by others. It doesn't cost you any money to read someone else's blog. All it takes is a few minutes of time, and it adds to the blogger's visitors' count. So please help this elder person out and either subscribe to my blog or add yourself to my f0llower's list. Thanks, my friends!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Spitting of Tobacco
When I was young, I thought the only living creatures that spit tobacco were grasshoppers. My brother Bill and I would catch them and hold them so their wings were closed, then look them in the eye and say, "Spit some tobacco or I'll kill you." Now I don't know where that came from, and though there wasn't any killing involved, the words certainly sounded violent. Eventually, the grasshoppers would exude a brownish-colored liquid from their mouths and then we would let them go. I found out later that people can also spit tobacco when we visited one of my father's co-workers in West Virginia.
We had traveled to the Shenandoah Valley the day before and stayed overnight at one of those forerunners of the strip motel, the small one-room cottage. When we left early the next morning and traveled up into the mountains, my father told us that soon we would be going through a cloud. Bill and I were excited about that prospect. However, when we actually passed through the cloud we were a bit disappointed because it looked just like fog. We did feel as though we had done something extraordinary, as driving through a cloud sounded like something ordinary people just didn't do.
We drove for several hours through valleys and steep mountains, and finally reached Harmon, West Virginia, in early afternoon. When we found the family we were looking for, their house was one of several small bungaloes crowded together at the summit of a mountain. The houses couldn't have been any closer to the road, and there was junk everywhere around them. The people who lived in the houses were all related, and the grandparents resided with the family we were visiting. The house had unfinished wood floors, and not a lot of furniture. The grandmother sat in a rocking chair in the center of the room, and obviously was the matriarch of the family. Not long after introductions, my brother and I were shocked to notice the grandmother spit into a coffee can sitting on the floor next to her chair. It happened so suddenly and her aim was so accurate that we couldn't believe our eyes. We looked at our mother and saw that warning look only she could give, meaning we were to keep quiet. This, of course, only enhanced the curiosity and surprise we were feeling, and the next time the grandmother spat into the can, Bill and I had to go outside because we were taken with fits of giggles. We stayed outside until Mom and Dad were ready to leave, and as soon as we got into the car, we started asking questions. Mom told us the grandmother was using snuff and that's why she was spitting into the can. She also said this was a fairly common practice among older women in some areas of the country.
I haven't seen any women chewing since, just men. Everyone seems to know or know of a woman who chewed at one time or another, though. I don't know if this was common practice in other areas of the country, or was just particular to Appalachia.
We had traveled to the Shenandoah Valley the day before and stayed overnight at one of those forerunners of the strip motel, the small one-room cottage. When we left early the next morning and traveled up into the mountains, my father told us that soon we would be going through a cloud. Bill and I were excited about that prospect. However, when we actually passed through the cloud we were a bit disappointed because it looked just like fog. We did feel as though we had done something extraordinary, as driving through a cloud sounded like something ordinary people just didn't do.
We drove for several hours through valleys and steep mountains, and finally reached Harmon, West Virginia, in early afternoon. When we found the family we were looking for, their house was one of several small bungaloes crowded together at the summit of a mountain. The houses couldn't have been any closer to the road, and there was junk everywhere around them. The people who lived in the houses were all related, and the grandparents resided with the family we were visiting. The house had unfinished wood floors, and not a lot of furniture. The grandmother sat in a rocking chair in the center of the room, and obviously was the matriarch of the family. Not long after introductions, my brother and I were shocked to notice the grandmother spit into a coffee can sitting on the floor next to her chair. It happened so suddenly and her aim was so accurate that we couldn't believe our eyes. We looked at our mother and saw that warning look only she could give, meaning we were to keep quiet. This, of course, only enhanced the curiosity and surprise we were feeling, and the next time the grandmother spat into the can, Bill and I had to go outside because we were taken with fits of giggles. We stayed outside until Mom and Dad were ready to leave, and as soon as we got into the car, we started asking questions. Mom told us the grandmother was using snuff and that's why she was spitting into the can. She also said this was a fairly common practice among older women in some areas of the country.
I haven't seen any women chewing since, just men. Everyone seems to know or know of a woman who chewed at one time or another, though. I don't know if this was common practice in other areas of the country, or was just particular to Appalachia.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Decisions, Decisions, Decisions...not good for a Libra!
The title of this blog says it all: a Libra doesn't handle decisions quickly or impulsively. We have to weigh everything, list all the pros and cons, back and forth, back and forth, until we finally reach a decision that is almost always the right one at the time.
Now I could be smug about that last part, saying the decision is always the right one. However, it just 'ain't' so. I've made more than my share of mistakes.
I wakened very early this morning because of a decision I had to make - I couldn't sleep for thinking about it. The decision to be made? Whether or not to move into a smaller place to live. I made a pot of coffee and sat down with paper and pen. I made sketches and lists. I added up costs and expenses and compared the new place against the present house. After my second cup of java, the decision was made. I am not going to take the new place, much as I want to move from my present house. The new place is less money per month, and probably costs less to heat. It has lots of parking and is air conditioned. But it is so small! I would have to use the garage as a studio and workout room, and that would be fine except there isn't any access to the garage from the living space. I would have to go outside and down around the building to the back to gain access to the garage. I know myself. In the cold, cold winter with lots of snow and ice, I would probably skip the workouts and making art. I would also have to shovel the rather long driveway in the winter.
I would have to store things like my china closet, bookcase, most of my artwork and pottery, some other furniture, art supplies and workout equipment. All would have to stay in the garage. My washer and dryer would have to be kept and used in the kitchen/dining area. That wouldn't be too bad, but it makes the space that much smaller.
So I continue to search for something that suits me. I'm not hard to please, but this living in town in such close proximity to neighbors is not acceptable. I have a nutty and nebby next door neighbor who is scary, to say the least. He gives me the creeps and he is getting worse. I like my privacy and don't like someone trying to peer into my living space! Too bad it is so hard to control one's environment!
Now I could be smug about that last part, saying the decision is always the right one. However, it just 'ain't' so. I've made more than my share of mistakes.
I wakened very early this morning because of a decision I had to make - I couldn't sleep for thinking about it. The decision to be made? Whether or not to move into a smaller place to live. I made a pot of coffee and sat down with paper and pen. I made sketches and lists. I added up costs and expenses and compared the new place against the present house. After my second cup of java, the decision was made. I am not going to take the new place, much as I want to move from my present house. The new place is less money per month, and probably costs less to heat. It has lots of parking and is air conditioned. But it is so small! I would have to use the garage as a studio and workout room, and that would be fine except there isn't any access to the garage from the living space. I would have to go outside and down around the building to the back to gain access to the garage. I know myself. In the cold, cold winter with lots of snow and ice, I would probably skip the workouts and making art. I would also have to shovel the rather long driveway in the winter.
I would have to store things like my china closet, bookcase, most of my artwork and pottery, some other furniture, art supplies and workout equipment. All would have to stay in the garage. My washer and dryer would have to be kept and used in the kitchen/dining area. That wouldn't be too bad, but it makes the space that much smaller.
So I continue to search for something that suits me. I'm not hard to please, but this living in town in such close proximity to neighbors is not acceptable. I have a nutty and nebby next door neighbor who is scary, to say the least. He gives me the creeps and he is getting worse. I like my privacy and don't like someone trying to peer into my living space! Too bad it is so hard to control one's environment!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Not a Coincidence
Ok, I'm off the politics for a minute. Truthfully, I am absolutely SICK of the whole campaign. Tired of the lying and exaggerating on both sides of the election. Tired of the financial fiasco the markets are experiencing. Tired of the government bailing out those who are wealthy or those who purchased homes WAY out of their means. Why do the rest of us have to pay for the greed and credit overextensions of those who now find themselves losing their homes? I am inclined to think Bush's pronouncement today of the bail-out by the government is protecting HIM and HIS. Am I wrong?
I know I said I was not talking politics and there I did it again. Just can't help myself. Be glad you aren't in my presence and being forced to HEAR all this talk.
Today, I planned to go to a fishing tournament at Roaring Run, but changed my mind. There will probably be a slew of people there and I am not inclined to get my fishing lines entangled with anyone else's. My computer has been acting extremely slow and sluggish to the point of frustration. I know I should just format the hard drive and start over, but that takes so much time. Right now, I hate to spend my time doing that when there won't be many nice days left this year, not in this climate.
Tomorrow I am supposed to walk in the Diabetes Walk, and I am not looking forward to that, either. It is a 2 mile walk, and I am up to 1 mile being comfortable. But I will probably do it.
Yesterday, I had a very nice day with an older friend who lived nearby when I was growing up. We have established a friendship, though she is almost 20 years older than I am. Wonderfully bright lady who is totally in touch with society, despite her age. At the same time, a younger woman who began to write to me on myspace (because her sister was once an employee of mine), and I have realized what a small world it is. It seems her father-in-law grew up next door to me - about a half-mile away, actually - and when he married the first time, he lived across the road from us - about a quarter-mile. I used to babysit his daughters from his first marriage. Apparently, he had children in his second marriage, and this young woman is married to his son. These happy little coincidences never cease to amaze me. Actually, I believe there is a reason for them. I don't believe there are any coincidences in this world. It is far more complicated, and far more spiritual than that.
I know I said I was not talking politics and there I did it again. Just can't help myself. Be glad you aren't in my presence and being forced to HEAR all this talk.
Today, I planned to go to a fishing tournament at Roaring Run, but changed my mind. There will probably be a slew of people there and I am not inclined to get my fishing lines entangled with anyone else's. My computer has been acting extremely slow and sluggish to the point of frustration. I know I should just format the hard drive and start over, but that takes so much time. Right now, I hate to spend my time doing that when there won't be many nice days left this year, not in this climate.
Tomorrow I am supposed to walk in the Diabetes Walk, and I am not looking forward to that, either. It is a 2 mile walk, and I am up to 1 mile being comfortable. But I will probably do it.
Yesterday, I had a very nice day with an older friend who lived nearby when I was growing up. We have established a friendship, though she is almost 20 years older than I am. Wonderfully bright lady who is totally in touch with society, despite her age. At the same time, a younger woman who began to write to me on myspace (because her sister was once an employee of mine), and I have realized what a small world it is. It seems her father-in-law grew up next door to me - about a half-mile away, actually - and when he married the first time, he lived across the road from us - about a quarter-mile. I used to babysit his daughters from his first marriage. Apparently, he had children in his second marriage, and this young woman is married to his son. These happy little coincidences never cease to amaze me. Actually, I believe there is a reason for them. I don't believe there are any coincidences in this world. It is far more complicated, and far more spiritual than that.
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