I've never bothered about my age spots because I had enough to worry about with the skin cancers but this particular age spot has irritated me way too long. I visited the dermatologist yesterday for my 6 month check-up and she only had to spray a couple of spots on my skin that didn't look quite right. They're probably not skin cancers but I'm happy to have them checked and sprayed anyway.
I mentioned to her that I'd like the larger age spot on my cheek removed and she was able to do it right away. Lucky me! It's considered cosmetic surgery so I had to pay $180 to have it removed but it's worth it if it looks okay in the end. There's quite a large bandage on it but I'll use something smaller when I replace it myself.
Age spots are darker patches on the skin but this one also had some depth to it and it was only getting larger so I thought it best to remove the darned thing. Having it or losing it mattered not one bit to my appearance but I just hated seeing it there. Most people thought I had something stuck on my cheek and often tried to pick it off so it's better gone.
Yesterday was the first time I'd been skin cancer free for almost 1 year so I'm hoping the worst is behind me and all I'll ever need from now on is the bi-yearly spraying to keep it under control. Wishful thinking, maybe, but I'm hoping!
Before removing the spot, I received a needle to freeze it...this hurt a bit but not horribly. From what I understand, the spot was removed by laser and it only took maybe less than a minute to do. I have a fair sized bandage on my cheek and will have to keep it covered for a couple of months. No big deal. Soon the bandage will be no more than a small bandaid so that's no problem. I've had so many skin cancers removed and been bandaged more than I like to think about. At least this one isn't from a skin cancer removal!
I put the photo on Facebook and Kim mentioned that I have a large ear...not so! I have lovely little ears but the photo somehow made it look awfully big. I think it's the angle of the photo. What bothers me more about the photo is that my hair looks terrible!
Anyway, there has been no pain or discomfort even after the freezing wore off. I do hope it doesn't come back quickly, though. There's never any guarantee, but I'm hoping!
I can't find my heating pad...if I have one and I can't imagine not having one...so I borrowed Faye's and have been using it on my sore arm for the past week. I guess it's on my arm for 3-4 hours per day and, darn it, it really helps. The pain hasn't disappeared by any means but the constant ache is now bearable. The day after I had the ultrasound, my arm hurt so badly that I couldn't stand it. Just the pressure of the technician as he manipulated my arm was the cause. But now it's a little bit better.
Oh yes, the ultrasound showed I have a minute partial tear in the supraspinatus zone measuring 4 x2 x3 mm. Also a hypoechoic area in the distal portion of the biceps measuring 1.2 x 0.4 x 3.4 cm. These measurements and areas mean nothing to me so I asked Shelley to explain. Apparently it means the problem is in the shoulder and biceps. I knew that!!
Anyway, both my doctor and Shelley agree that physiotherapy will help and my first appointment is Monday, May 2 at 9 A.M. I also have a dental appointment the same day at 2:30 so I'm going to be a very sore lady that day.
We seniors don't bounce back from injuries like we did when we were younger and I always worry that any new hurt is permanent. I hope this one isn't because it is already limiting how much I dare carry or lift...not that I've ever been really strong even when I was younger.
But, back to the heating pad. It amazes me how much it helps aches and pains in any part of the body. I guess the heat comforts us and makes us relax our muscles. I know that applying cold compresses are supposed to shrink swelling but cold isn't comforting. I'll stick with the warmth unless ordered to do otherwise.
Today I'm feeling quite good and have already done the laundry and made my bed...only tasks needed today. I'm considering going for a nice long drive and having lunch out. Life is good!
Facebook may not be everyone's cup of tea but it holds a special spot in my heart. This morning Andrea posted an older photo of Isabel playing with 2 of her grandchildren and it warmed and hurt my heart at the same time. She showered those babies with love and I hope they're old enough to never forget that feeling.
Knowing that our death is just around the corner means we fear being forgotten, especially for the good and loving things we do with our lives. We try not to worry about our past mistakes and hope they won't be what our loved ones remember most when we're gone. At least I do.
We assume the internet will be around forever because we can't imagine anything more powerful or sustaining than the internet and that is why I write this blog. I want my progeny to be able to read my thoughts and learn about their ancestor in years to come. I don't think that's egotistical because I would dearly love to read my distant ancestors' thoughts.
No, we don't like to be forgotten because that means we weren't necessary and that's difficult to accept. Very few of us will ever do anything that will be put in history books but most of us don't care about that. We just want to be remembered by the people we hold dear in our hearts.
I'm a people watcher and enjoy seeing the smile and love on the faces of people as they look at their loved ones. It makes me feel as though there is more good in the human race than evil. It shows me a darned good reason why we humans exist at all!
You know what I feel when I see a shabby street person? I first wonder what brought him/her to this stage of life and then my thoughts fly back in time to when they were a child and most certainly loved by someone, even if only by their mother. I see them as newborns, perfect and pure. And then I imagine that loss of love in some drastic way caused them to stop loving themselves. And I think, "there, but for chance, go I".
I guess I got off on a tangent there but that's okay. This is my blog and my thoughts so where they lead me is okay.
Now, if my descendants ever read this blog, know that I lived a life that was never perfect but it was filled with love...most of the time. I think that's the best we can hope for.
I'll bet that the crazies from Westboro Baptist Church have been the cause of many people turning against organized religion. Any church group that preaches that much hatred has to be sick in the head.
I happened to catch a film clip on T.V. of one of their recent protests (either a military or a gay funeral) and it sort of frightened me to see these relatively normal looking people spewing hatred under the guise of what their "god" teaches them. Would anyone worship a god of hatred??
And so I typed in a wordsearch on Google only to see that these whackos think Canadians are depraved and planned to protest at a Blue Jays game (I think one in the States). Now I tend to think Canadians are liked everywhere because we're so blah but apparently these Baptists see us as demons from hell. One of the church members was asked how many human beings will end up in hell and she said 99.999999999%. She thinks she and her followers are going to heaven. Yeah, right! If she's the type of person that ends up in heaven, then it's misnamed and I hope I don't go there.
I get the ultrasound on my arm this afternoon and this is what I'm predicting...there will be a small tear in the muscle or rotator cuff and I'll just have to deal with the discomfort for the rest of my life. The physical therapy might help but I'm not counting on it.
I've been trying not to lift things with my right hand but I do it automatically before realizing I shouldn't. I think that will always be the case.
I'm not used to having discomfort like this...only my knees when they've acted up...so to have limited use and slight pain every time I move this damned arm is making me mad. As we age we expect things to hurt and I'm very lucky I don't have much arthritis but I don't want ANY pain or discomfort!
I'll find out exactly what it is and what the prognosis is at the end of the week when I phone my family doctor.
There really is no such thing as a free day because there are always the usual little housekeeping details to look after but today is as close as it can get for me.
I love semi-free days. I love not having to watch the clock knowing I have obligations some time that day. I love the freedom a semi-free day gives me to do pretty much nothing if that's what I want to do.
Today my chores are as follows: make the bed, wash a few dishes, get dressed, brush my hair and my teeth, wash my face. It doesn't get much freer than this.
But...I really should go out for a few groceries and a new mat for the spare bedroom. I also need a battery for the weigh scale. I'm sure I'll think of a few more stops to make while I'm out.
See, there can't be a totally free day as long as you're able to get up, out, and about.
Okay, I know our wait times might be a little longer for non emergencies but I'll take it any day over what the Americans have. One of my friends told me that her co-pay alone could hit $6000 in a year. That doesn't happen to us Canadians!
Shelley was shocked to hear I have to wait a whole week for an ultrasound on my arm and 2 more weeks to wait for therapy. But I won't receive one single bill for these services and my problem is not an emergency.
I have to point out to her again that she should remember the excellent care her father got when he was diagnosed with cancer. His illness lasted a whole year and he had full and quick access to doctors, hospitals, medication, treatments, equipment for home use, and home care nurses. None of these cost us a cent. If it had we could have lost our house to pay for it. Either that or we could not have afforded the things that made him comfortable on his journey. Government health care, even one with flaws like our own, gives us security.
We pay high taxes in Canada but it's worth it to have our universal health care system. I'm old enough to remember when we didn't so I know the difference.
I've experienced health care in the States and been amazed at how luxurious it seems in comparison to our own but Americans pay a hefty price for that luxury. It's great if you can afford it but the average citizen simply can't unless they have good coverage through their workplace. Not everyone has that coverage so the poor receive substandard care. In Canada, we are treated equally. Americans call that "socialism" and I guess it is but I'll take it any day over what I see in the States.
In any case, my arm hurts a bit and I will be taken care of at no cost to me. The wheels, albeit slower in motion, are still in motion.
When I hurt my arm lifting the futon, the pain wasn't sufficient to send me to a doctor because I didn't want the hassle of making a claim on my out-of-country insurance. Once I got home, though, I wanted to find out just what damage I'd done to myself.
I phoned my doctor this morning and was surprised he could see me this afternoon. He thinks it might be a torn muscle but I'm getting an ultrasound on Monday to know for sure. I also set myself up with physiotherapy right here in town for May 2nd. There is no cost to me for any of this and I like to point that out to my American friends. For the most part, they tend to be a little afraid of government health care. My doctor said that, whether or not the muscle is torn, therapy will help heal it faster and I'm all for that.
I have good motion in the arm but it hurts when I move it and it aches when I'm not moving it. I hate this!
My doctor likened my muscle to a rubber band that has aged right along with me and become easily frayed or torn. He said it with tact but the truth is I'm falling apart. I just never realized my innards were deteriorating along with my outside.
Anyway, this isn't the end of the world as far as health problems go so I won't get myself upset about it. I certainly won't be straining these old muscles anymore by lifting heavy stuff!
Lots still need to be done...spring housecleaning...but I've got the livingroom finished and the floors done with the exception of the bedrooms. I'll do those tomorrow. I want to do some decluttering, too. I have a lot of craft supplies and games that need to go because they're not being used.
It was a long 2 day drive with Cindy and Don but both were good drivers. The only scary incident happened when I was driving and the ramps of a small trailer in front of me dropped down. I thought for sure they would rip off and it would have caused a terrible accident because I was pinned in my lane by a huge tractor trailer. Luck held, though, and the driver with the trailer slid over 3 lanes to the right shoulder to repair it.
When we got to the border crossing in Detroit, the line-up extended out along the highway and looked to be miles long. Nothing was moving much so we drove up to Sarnia to cross there. The line-ups were very long, too, but they were moving okay.
It was soooo good to be home. I didn't care that the outside air was pretty darned chilly because I was home! Warm spring and summer weather is on the horizon so I can put up with a bit of cold for now. I put away a few things and went to bed early. Unfortunately, I kept waking up and being unable to get back to sleep immediately. That makes for a tiring day. I bought groceries yesterday and finished unpacking the car trunk. I swear I'll not fill that trunk again next year...but somehow it happens.
Kim, Matt, Kellie, and I are going to Nick and Bev's for dinner tonight so I get to see Nolan and Nash, too. I didn't buy them much while I was in Florida because I never see them in the clothes I buy for them. I have to assume Natasha doesn't like my taste. No problem...I'll treat them with dinners and entertainment.
I do miss my Florida friends but Dee and I will get together this summer at Fallsview. Right now I'm fully enjoying being by myself for a few hours. I'll be busy all next week with housecleaning, banking, and getting my taxes done. Getting settled in the apartment is so much easier than when I had the house. I've never for one second regretted selling and moving into my apartment.
And for now...I'll enjoy vegetating in front of the computer.
There is no place like home. When I'm in Florida, my trailer is home but the real home where my life and heart is lies further north in Canada. That's my home home.
"Home" is where you know you belong in the long run. It's the place where you feel the most comfortable and where you believe you could stay until the day you die.Some say that home is where your stuff is but I have stuff in both places. The stuff I have at my home home is the most treasured, though. The stuff I have in the trailer could blow away in a hurricane and I'd be sad but not devastated. That stuff isn't quite as important to me. Now, the friends I have in Florida are very important to me and, by staying in the trailer, it gives me a place to be near them. It's the friends that would break my heart to lose, not the contents of the trailer.
So, tomorrow morning, Cindy, Don, and I will start the long 2 day trek home home. With each mile we cover, I'll be feeling more peaceful, knowing I'm heading in the right direction at this moment in time. With luck and good health, I'll reverse the trip in November and head back to Florida where my little home away from home awaits me.
I like to think I'm a kind, compassionate person but often I fail miserably. Too often, we're not as good as we prefer to think we are.
The other day I was driving to Sears to purchase another pair of pants which I didn't need but just wanted. As I waited at a red light, I saw a man begging and immediately felt a resentment that I usually feel about beggars. After all, isn't it better to work at a fast food place than to beg on the streets? Why should people who work hard for their money simply give it away to people who won't work? Those were my immediate thoughts.
At that moment it started to rain but the beggar continued walking past the stopped cars with his little sign (didn't read it). My thoughts were that the rain would put an end to his begging but it didn't. A hand emerged from the car in front of me motioning the beggar to come over. My thoughts were, "why do people encourage these beggars?".
As the beggar reached the car, the driver put an umbrella in his hand. I felt shame for my very less than generous thoughts and a strange humbleness that there are still kind and generous people in this world...kinder and more generous by far than me.
And so I continued on my way, bought the pants plus a pretty top but, as I drove back to Shelley's, I noticed the beggar at the same intersection. He was still busy begging but he was holding a completely different umbrella than the pretty one I saw given to him earlier. I've been wondering what happened to the first one, wondering if the beggar came prepared with his own umbrella, and wondered again why we give money to beggars. If you are relatively young and able and can think ahead to maybe needing an umbrella, you are capable of working and don't need to beg.
I still think I'm fairly kind and giving but I just think we should draw the line at beggars.
I spent most of yesterday crying and eating potato chips, in misery over losing Isabel. Absolutely useless and fruitless waste of time. I ignored phone calls but did fortunately answer one from Joann...she was bringing me some goodies she'd baked. Then I opened Facebook and saw that Carol had left me a message saying she didn't think Lloyd was going to survive...he's been in the hospital since Saturday (3rd time this winter). What upset me was that it was 6:30 and she'd left the message at 3:30. All I could think of was that she was at the hospital alone at such a terrible time.
It was too late for me to attempt to drive to the hospital so I hunted down Dee who can see to drive in the dark. Of course, Dee is an angel who goes far out of her way to do anything she can to help others so I knew she'd drive us. She did.
Both Carol and Lloyd's daughter, Patty, were sitting in the room with Lloyd who is in an induced coma while a tube has been put down his throat to help him breathe. His blood pressure is too low and his lungs are filled with fluid. It didn't look good.
We went off to the visitors room to talk and it was good to hear that Carol and Patty are both in accord with not allowing unnecessary life sustaining measures to be used on Lloyd. He's 82 and in terrible health. I wouldn't want to be put on life support after all hope is gone and we know he wouldn't, either.
Dee and I left for home feeling secure that Carol and Patty were comfortable with whatever should occur. Sometimes all you can do is just be there.
There is a time to let go, to go on to whatever lies beyond what we know as life. Many fear the unknown but we really have no choice but to take that step when the time comes. We can only hope we've left behind good memories for our loved ones.
When I got home, I sat and thought about what an emotional day it had been. I still grieved for Isabel but I was more at peace with it. Wherever she's gone, she's there by now and I hope her heaven is as beautiful as I envision it.
I don't know how to title this. I'm feeling so bad inside that I don't know how to cope with it. I've suffered losses all my life but this one is just too much for me. I'm writing this so that I can try to understand and get past it.
The feeling is of hopelessness and futility. I've felt this before when I had depression and assume it's what's troubling me again. Why even start a life that will end in such sadness and unfairness. There doesn't seem to be any logic in being born only to suffer and die when you have a family that loves you and that you love. I'm trying to make sense of something that none of us can ever understand.
This isn't helping. She's gone and she's not coming back. How bloody unfair and incomprehensible is this bloody life.
You never know who will come into your life and make a magical difference and this is how it was with Isabel. I met her first as a kind of snobby (so I thought) little 10 year old girl who seemed to have an unusual hard exterior...not bad but pugnacious. I didn't know at the time that she'd been adopted by very loving parents (my neighbors) but who knows what memories she carried from who knows what kind of background. I never asked.
As time went on, Isabel married and moved away from her childhood home but I stayed on and, lo and behold, years later Isabel moved back into her childhood home with her family of husband and 3 children. We were neighbors again but this time it was different. We became friends and she became like a 4th daughter to me. I understood her now and admired her strengths greatly. One of her daughters had been born with cerebral palsy and was quite handicapped by it. Isabel and Steve were such excellent parents, doing everything in their power for their children. Steve was known as the "mayor of Duncombe Dr. because he was out and about all the time helping and socializing with his neighbors. Isabel used to tell me she modeled her life after mine (not exactly true, though) by working part-time only and having more time with her children. This was a couple who worked together as a team and their closeness lasted till the end.
Isabel passed away yesterday from a cancer that had taken such a hold that even a spirit as strong as Isabel's couldn't stop it.
Maybe it was because she was adopted that family was so very important to Isabel. Her children and then her grandchildren became the most important people in her life...after Steve, of course. Their lives were fully entwined and that proved to be what made her last days good ones. I won't allow myself to think how hard it was for her to know she wouldn't be around to see her grandchildren grow up but at least she knew the adults in their lives would take good care of them.
We remained neighbors for many, many years before I sold my house a couple of years ago so I have a million memories of my time with Isabel. She was an exceptional woman, taking up rowing in her older years and becoming excellent at it. The only fly in her ointment came from one of her daughters who became estranged from the family and remained so even today. It's a tragedy, shame, and unimaginable that this is the case but we can't always understand what makes some people tick.
But the true and loving constants in Isabel's life were her husband, children, and 3 grandchildren. Her joy came especially came from them.
It was Stuart who messaged me today to give me the news of Isabel's passing. I told him that I'd held hope she might beat the damned cancer because she'd fought it over and over since being diagnosed and lasted longer than predicted.
Stuart got married last summer and one of my favorite memories of all time will be the love I saw in their eyes as son and mother danced together. She seemed so well and so happy. It's something to be thankful for..that she got to attend her son's marriage to a lady who also loved Isabel. There was so very much good in Isabel's life and it's just not right that it was taken away from her too soon.
Steve said he was glad her suffering was over and I agree. I remember feeling the same way when Dennis passed away. Their illness makes us feel as though we're on a horrific roller coaster of hope and dismay until we become numb..In the end, we only want them to be at peace and then we'll handle the fallout from their loss.
Losing someone we love and who held an important position in our lives is like losing a part of our history. It's like being whittled away and it will take time to accept it.
I miss you, Isabel. I always will.
I love stories of possible coincidence that ended up being a life-saving moment. One such moment happened yesterday to Shelley.
Shelley is a nurse practitioner who was on her way to "Bed and Bath". She set her GPS for the address where she was going and headed off to her destination. When she reached a certain point, her GPS told her to turn left when she was pretty certain she was supposed to turn right. Tending to believe the GPS, she turned left and drove out of her way for 2 miles before deciding the GPS was wrong and u-turned to retrace her steps.
In less than a city block, she witnessed a car crash into a tree. She could see a figure inside the car that wasn't moving so she rushed over to do what she could, telling a young man at the scene to start breaking windows to get the driver out. This was very important because smoke was beginning to come out of the car.
The young man was able to break into the car and helped remove the unconscious driver so Shelley could perform CPR on him. When she started he had no pulse and wasn't breathing but she was able to "restart" him. When paramedics arrived, Shelley stepped aside and let them do their work. Apparently the driver stopped breathing again as they loaded him into the ambulance so we don't know if he survived.
The point is...what intervention occurred to have Shelley's GPS send her 2 miles out of her way where she would see an accident and be present to offer medical attention? This story gives me chills to think how many times in our lives, accidental occurrences result in a most favorable outcome.
Was this just a coincidence? I honestly don't think so and it reinforces my belief that there is some kind of guidance and plan for our existence on this planet. Not being religious, it's difficult for me to make logic out of this but it is what it is...and I doubt very much that it was coincidence.
Update: Shelley hunted him down at the hospital he was taken to and he is still alive but in an induced coma. She met his family who had been told of her involvement in saving his life and who were very grateful to her. It still remains uncertain if he will recover but I'm thinking all of this didn't happen just so that he'd live but a few days more. I think he was saved for a purpose and it would be interesting to learn what it was.
Many years ago I got the idea to start a coffee morning get-together for the ladies in the park. It's been a source of fun and getting to know each other ever since and I'm always amazed how much the ladies enjoy it. I'm not a very outgoing person so I don't know why I chose to do this but I'm glad I did.
A few years ago we hit the 22 attendees point but so many have left the park now that the average might be just below or just above the dozen mark. I'm not sure if my circle of friends is diminishing or that the new people in the park just aren't interested. Of course, many of the new people are younger but that's never seemed to be a deterrent before.
The final Friday coffee morning this year will be on April 1st. It's a holiday but I just didn't want to end our get-togethers too early in March. Husbands will be allowed to join us on our last coffee morning of the season...some are brave enough to come, too!
My Florida winter season is rapidly coming to an end and in three weeks I'll be back home. It will be nice getting back into the flow of the lives of my family there.
But today is coffee time and I know it will be full of laughs. I am very grateful for the company of such wonderful ladies and the fact that they like me enough to join me every Friday morning we're in Florida.
Update: As our morning was coming to a close, Dee presented me with a gift from my ladies...a deluxe pedicure at the salon they know I get mine done. I was very overcome with emotion knowing these ladies care about me so I couldn't read the card and put it aside to read later. Everyone left a little message on it and I'll save and treasure it forever. The pedicure I'll enjoy this coming Thursday!
My heritage is pretty scattered but I do know I have at least 1/8th Irish blood through my grandmother and her father. It's all I can cling to because the rest of my heritage (other than 1/8th French through the same grandmother) is unknown. It's enough for me to feel quite Irish.
We're having a St. Patrick's Day dinner at the clubhouse today with corned beef and cabbage...this reminds me so strongly of my youth.
I lived with my grandmother, grandfather, mother, and sister in the 1940's and 1950's. My grandmother had been a bootlegger for as long as I could remember but it wasn't a sleazy operation because her customers were mainly old Irish widowers who just wanted an nice place to spend a Sunday afternoon drinking beer and singing Irish songs.
My grandfather was a true Irishman (not my blood relative, though) so the combination of him and my 50% Irish grandmother was the reason we celebrated St. Patrick's Day to the fullest. Nan would somehow make the beer green and always cooked a fantastic meal of corned beef and cabbage. Delicious! She was an excellent cook who taught me nothing about cooking. Too bad.
Nan always put a henna rinse in her grey hair to make it a nasty orange color but she liked it. On St. Patrick's Day, she also dressed in green and put a green bow in her hair. At the time I thought it looked hideous but I'd give up a year of my life to see it all again. You often don't appreciate the treasures in your life until you lose them. My Nan was a character and a treasure.
I mentioned before how I loved to sit quietly in a corner and listen to these old Irishmen sing the Irish songs. On St. Patrick's Day, they were sung with more fervor but maybe that's because they drank a little bit more beer in celebration of their day. I cherish those memories.
I haven't had corned beef and cabbage since she passed away so I'm hoping today's meal with be authentic but, even if it isn't, I'll be sharing it with good friends. Life is good.
It's entirely possible that I daydream more than most people and that's because I'm very aware how many forks in the road of life I came upon. At each and every fork, I had to make a conscious decision which path to follow. Some were big mistakes but I have no-one to blame but myself. Granted, many times I felt I had no choice but to choose the path I did but, in the end, it was my choice.
I often do my daydreaming in the hour or so before I fall asleep at night. I imagine how my life would have turned out if I'd made different choices. It's really amazing how just by choosing one alternate path would have changed my life immeasurably.
I shouldn't have had my children so young but I would never change that part of my life because, by doing so, I wouldn't have the family I do today. Maybe accidents are not accidents at all but a higher power's way of directing us.
Many of my daydreams begin after my family is intact. I imagine having gone back to school and better educated myself. I did try that but my husband couldn't deal with it and I quit. What if I had struggled on instead of caving in?? It makes for an interesting scenario in my daydreams.
But, way too often, I can't make a different choice of path in life simply because I know how much it would cost me. Even my daydreams become restricted because it would mean a loss of something I treasure in my real life.
By circumstance, I have landed my 75 1/2 year old butt in a pretty nice place. I'm happy. I have a loving family and most of my health. Maybe this is where I was meant to be all along. But it's still fun to imagine how it could have been if I'd taken a few different roads.
I was just sitting here at my desk in the trailer this morning and realized how peaceful it is here. As I post some items on Facebook or play a few computer games, it falls upon me how contented I am at this time in my life. Who would have thought that the chaos of my younger years would culminate in a happy old age?
I never lose track of the fact that it was Dennis' hard work that gave me this comfortable life and it's so sad that he didn't live long enough to fully enjoy his retirement. He was always the strong, healthy one (other than smoking) and I was the fat, depressed one...but here I am now, very happy with my life. It's strange how life takes so many turns until you arrive where you do.
I've made direct changes to my attitude about life and maybe have become the person I was meant to be all along. I wrote before about my belief that marrying too young stunts one's mental maturity and I honestly believe that happened to me. It seemed my mind really was in a state of chaos when I was younger because I couldn't make sense of my life.
These days, I have good friends who are wonderful to be around and who fill my days and thoughts with happiness. My family is doing fine and we're very closely connected...I don't think I could be happy if that changed at all.
I have plans. The biggest and best is to visit Sylvia in September and then to be well enough to travel back to Florida for next winter. I'm trying not to think about the good friends here who might not make it back and that's not pleasant to think about. Of course, I'm eager to see all my family again but it does help to have Shelley living so close through the winter.
I'm going over to Shelley's on Saturday and bar hopping with her, Faye, and Marilee to a Newfoundland bar. Matt and Kellie arrive later that night for a week's vacation and I'm so thrilled to see them. There will be all kinds of family get-togethers all month, ending with Shelley's "cousins" party on April 2nd when I'll see more of my nieces and nephews, too. Kim, Cindy, and Don will be there so all my 3 girls will be together!
Cindy, Don, and I will head back to Canada later that week and I'm not sad to go. It's time to go on with the next phase of my year and enjoy Nolan and Nash while they're still little boys. My life is good.
I'll be 76 in August...another thing that's hard to believe because I don't feel it. Mind you, my body keeps reminding me, though. What I feel is a vibrant, curious mind that knows it has much to learn yet. I often wonder how it will be when I'm at the end of my life...I know I'll be sorry to leave my loved ones but I think I'll still be curious about what happens next. I believe life goes on somewhere but I'll just have to wait and see.
But I'm going to enjoy today. The peace and quiet of the morning, the Sewing Club luncheon at noon, a nap in the afternoon, and then playing cards this evening with friends. Who could have thought this old gal's life could turn out so nice?
I've been really happy with my new bed but did notice how the bed frame seemed to be kind of squeaky...no other activity here than me rolling over in my sleep!
Last night I got up to pee and, when I went back to bed, the frame spread out and the box spring was in serious danger of falling to the floor. I'm thankful this happened when I wasn't laying down or I bet something would have broken, either me or the bed!
And so I had a choice...either go sleep on the sofa or raise the mattress and box spring to see what had happened to the bed frame. I was a little worried because I'd already hurt my arm moving the sofa a few weeks ago and didn't want to cause any more harm to myself but I was curious. The first thing I did was to drag the mattress off and prop it up against the wall. This trailer bedroom is only about 8' x 8' so there's not much room to maneuver. Next I lifted the end of the box spring up just enough to see that the bed frame had separated in the center where it should have been locked in place.
My only option to draw it back in and screw it in place was to lay the heavy box spring on my head so that my hands were free. Very difficult and uncomfortable but I was determined. It took really only a few minutes to accomplish this because I also had to draw the frame in the perfect amount, not too wide or too narrow, so that the box spring would sit perfectly on it. I did it! And, after tightening the screw that holds the frame tightly in place, I managed to get the box spring and mattress back safely on it. I was quite pleased with myself!
I crawled back in bed and noticed no more squeaks. If I ever hear that bed squeak again, I'll know the frame has loosened up and will fix the problem before it becomes a problem.
