Grateful For

blue skies and autumn winds
sons and girlfriends
wet-nosed doggy greetings
surgeons and fingers that work
medical insurance
a good night's sleep
family, near and far
enough food on our plate
farmers
apple pie
yams
fine china
dishwashers
icy ponds
warm jackets and one-size-fits-all stretch gloves
neighbors
sleeping in
loyalty
laughter
smiles
glasses half full
frisbees
hugs
memories

Autumn

I'm not ready for Christmas carols just yet. I'm still enjoying the crunch of leaves and a little Jack Frost every morning. December will come soon enough and our stack of holiday CDs will be playing nonstop. Our home will be taken over by the red-and-green, Santa, snowmen, angels and reindeer overload that I adore.

But for now, the homey hues that remind us of those yummy foods simmering on the stove and fogging up the kitchen window are such a delight after the blatant, showy colors of summer. The heater is on, the down comforter is handy, soup is a mainstay, it's dark at 5:15. Autumn grants us time to slow down and ponder our lives.

The Christmas rush can wait. Anything that's on sale will still be on sale when I'm ready to buy it.

The stitches from surgery number two come out tomorrow (all three of them). CTS has made me slow down and enforced patience which, to my surprise, isn't all that awful. I'm hoping to retain some of the lessons I've learned. Autumn is a wonderful time of year if you slow down to enjoy it and CTS has slowed me down big time over the last five months. Life went on without my to-do list. My self-enforced no-whining zone has brought me new appreciation of my blessings.

My gratitude list is filled with simple everyday joys--and right now, enough sleep at night that I actually dream is at the top.

Our red carpet

Fall can bring such surprising gifts. Like the walk to our door. Very bee-a-you-tee-full!

In the gratitude column, add a surgeon with a light touch. Hand number two throbs a bit, but already feels better than it did pre-surgery this a.m. I can hardly wait tll the stitches are out. It will be like having a real life again. It was a long five months of carpal tunnel and I'm glad to be emerging from the dark.

Off to recouperate and count my blessings.

Old Dog, New Trick

I was bitten by the Scrapbooking Bug a few years ago. I now have

• a decent hoard of cardstock in my favorite colors,
• a membership at my local scrapbooking store where they know my name,
• lots of friends who share my passion for preserving memories before they fade from our brain cells,
• a subscribtion to Memory Makers magazine,
• and a pile of vacation photos taken with future scrapbooking in mind.
  

My current obsession is all the fault of the magazine. For the past year, they have featured more and more articles on digital scrapbooking or, basically, using your computer to do all the work. I never really understood anything about the process, but Saturday was "Digital Scrapbooking Day" (yeah, who knew?) and the magazine featured a free download of some digitial scrapbooking materials. I know enough not to turn my nose up at anything that is truly free, so I downloaded and then realized I had no idea what to do next.

I'm nothing if not resourceful. I googled "how to digital scrapbook" and discovered a wonderful site (www.shabbyprincess.com) with another free download(!) and an even more fabulous tutorial which even I could follow.

Here is the result. Yeah, right now it's just a bunch of pixels floating in cyberspace rather than an honest-to-goodness page that I can put in my scrapbook. I still have to figure out how to manipulate text and rotate elements and about a million other fancy things before I'll be happy enough to have my effort printed. But still, this isn't a bad result for only my second try at this new skill.

And I just realized that using the computer for storage space instead of having my scrapping materials occupy half my desk is pretty cool too! My better half would approve!

The Sinister Side of Life

I still have no date set for surgery on my left hand. I've been unable to get the nurse to call me back and I've been waiting for two weeks now.

The good news is that it is Conference Week with minimum days, so my hand is not getting overworked which usually causes plenty of pain and sleepless nights. I've found that a hotpack each night really relaxes my leftie and so I've gotten some decent sleep recently. My right hand continues to improve and get stronger, although it still has a ways to go. I'm still not able to snap my fingers or open jars, but I can button nicely.

The bad news is that Conference Week will end. And my sweetie needs to take another field trip and can't book it until I have a surgery date. And that the first surgery was scheduled three weeks out...I have no idea if I can survive for another three weeks. The thought that it could be more than three weeks is pretty scary at this point.

I've decided that I can no longer be a patient patient...so I am pulling strings (since I have connections). Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Mummy v. Frankenstein

I've been wearing a cast-sized dressing on my right hand for a week and a half. Being asked what happened, giving the carpal tunnel surgery answer and getting lots of nice sympathy was rather nice at first but quickly got old.

So I've spent the first part of this week telling people who enquire about my huge ace-bandaged hand and wrist that I'm working on my Mummy costume little by little. The kids at school get a good laugh out of that. And all the mothers working on costumes totally identify.

As of this morning, stitches out and dressing gone, now we are going for the Frankenstein look (hey, kids aren't the only ones who are allowed to change their minds about their Halloween costume). I have lovely green and yellow bruises from my palm down past my wrist. I have two cool recently removed stitches (the one on the wrist looks like a gaping mouth which will begin talking any time now. Note to self: possible costume change to Space Alien?). I even have a few remnant surgical signposts drawn in apparently permanent purple marker to add to the overall ghastly Frankie look.

I'll spare you the graphic photos.

Gotta say that it feels wonderful to freely move my fingers and wrist. I can even type for heaven's sake. Better than that, my nerves are regenerating nicely and I HAVE FEELING IN MY FINGERS, folks. Life is good!

What's not to love about this surgery? Please schedule me for wrist #2 as soon as possible!

Touchy Feely

Kinda sorta almost!

I can't believe that the left hand (still with Carpal Tunnel) feels worse than the right hand that was operated on. It has since Tuesday's surgery. Amazing--surgery is like a magic wand that makes the burning pain and tingling go away almost immediately.

And I can feel in 3 out of 5 fingers now.

Next step..stitches out on Thursday.

Carpe that Tunnel

Let's just say that I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome...in both hands...and I'm sick of it. And I can hardly wait for the phone to ring. It might be the orthopaedist's office calling to award me a date on the surgeon's calendar. Surgery might not be high on everyone's wish list, but it is absolutely on the top of mine. So high that I'm thinking of having a Surgery Appointment Party to be followed sometime thereafter with an Oh-My-Gosh-I-Can-Actually-Feel-My-Fingers Party. So while I'm dreaming of that wished-for phone call, I thought I'd memorialize the past three endless months of CTS.


Top Ten Things That I Can't Do With Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (in no particular order or importance:

1. Get my beloved topaz ring back on my finger.


2. Sleep through the night without waking up.


3. Keyboard without a zillion backspaces.


4. Open jars or bottles of milk, Juice Squeeze, diet Mtn. Dew, sauerkraut, jam, peanut butter, or--well, you get the idea--unless it's already been loosened for me.


5. Put in my earrings.


6. Button my own buttons.


7. Hold the latest Harry Potter novel.


8. Snap my fingers.


9. Throw the puppy's frisbee.


10. Stroke my sweetie's face.

Yeah, CTS sucks. Big Time. Now if only the phone would ring...

Extreme Makeover--Landscape Edition

They live so far east that you can see the Milky Way at night. So far that coyotes sing them to sleep and roadrunners hustle through the yard. It's my favorite part of their house.

We spent a week getting intimately acquainted with their rocks, bushes, and trees. We experienced sweat-drenched shirts in the mornings and afternoon monsoons while we (hopefully) helped with the landscaping. So the holes are dug, the posts cemented in, the OSB nailed on. We started the paper and wire and then deserted them.

By now, the wall has been fully covered with black paper and chicken wire and the stucco is on. The sound of a trickling fountain and the beginnings of greenery are changing the extended patio. There's still lots to do...but at least we helped a little.

Higher Math

I can't believe that I have to "do the math" to figure out how old my kids are! It wasn't this hard to remember last year.

Somehow, as they progress through their 20s, it becomes increasingly harder to just spit out the proper age without even thinking about it. Was it all that long ago that I could tell you he was just 9-1/2 months? I remember when I could tell you he was 5-1/2 years old too.

Of course, when he was a teenager it was excruciatingly important to remember how old he was as we counted through all those milestones (entering high school, first girlfriend, drivers permit, driving test, college applications).

Somehow it wasn't hard to remember he was 20--good grief! I didn't have a teenager any more! And then 21--easy! 22 and 23 though, things got a little murky and I had to think a little bit when asked. At 24, I figure it's okay now if I'm right about what decade he's in.

More worrisome to me is the fact that I can see a time in the future when my boys are actually older than the age to which I will admit--a situation made worse by the fact that I feel about as old as my kindergartners' moms when I'm probably closer in age to their (shudder) grandmothers. Can I say right now that I just love those dads (think mid-life-crisis and second family) who are sending their oldest to kindergarten and are ACTUALLY OLDER THAN I AM? They are soooo good for my propensity to think that I am way younger and tons hotter than I actually am!

But enough about me...

Hippo Birdies to my baby. I hope this photo shows how I proud I am of the way he turned out and how much I love him!

Entangled in a Web

So glad Pooh and family are following my sterling example and beginning a family blog of their own. Actually I think that the Tigger just begged and bugged and wheedled and nagged (successfully). And since he knows his way around a computer, from the requisite gaming to graphics and presentations, it is fitting that he get a little blogspot time.

They are just starting, but I'm looking forward to watching them develop their blog ( http://www.3alwayshumming.blogspot.com/ ) since their life IS always humming whether it's school/work/garden/house/or the hummingbirds at the kitchen window! Have fun, guys!

Bakery Bones

My sweetie is a little jealous of Kharma's attachment to me, I think. I have a secret weapon though. I love making doggy treats. Virtually every pocket in every dress, jeans and jacket has the remnants of a treat feast. No wonder she loves me. I not only smell good, I'm like the ice cream truck is to a kid--irresistible. Unlike the ice cream truck, I pay off continually.

Kharma deserves nothing less than the best. I combine organic peanut butter, skim milk and whole wheat flour, cut, back and I'm set for a couple of weeks. By making her treats myself, I don't have to worry about pet food recalls. Her Peanut Butter Bones are healthy, yummy, cute, and much cheaper than the gourmet treats at our local dog patisserie. I don't feel guilty because they get my patronage for her regular (very expensive) kibble, her walking leash, car leash, collar, tags, dog toys and classes...

We share her treats with best friend Echo. Each batch has a few destined for Echo's delight. Then too, both dogs fetch the Frisbee during daily visits to the pasture and both get a nice treat each time they bring back a slippery Frisbee dripping with nice thick saliva (both girls are Lab or part-Lab). I have to admit that treats that cost next to nothing are pretty easy to dispense freely, especially when I think of how much we used to spend on Charley Bears, or freeze-dried liver or various types of jerky. And training happens much quicker with those rewards coming regularly!

I found the "bone" cookie cutter fairly quickly. It's a big large--I really love the teeny weeny cookie cutter bone that Jeannie has. That was a garage sale acquisition though and I'm not setting my hopes on ever finding one myself. I do love the two new "doggies" though. The one on the left sure looks a lot like Echo and the sitting one is a ringer for Kharma. Now I have to figure out how to make a dark Echo dog biscuit and a blonde Kharma treat...

Fond Fotos for a Friday

Honeymoon memories. (Appropriate since we just celebrated an anniversary.)

We look a bit younger than I remember being. But who isn't amazed when they look back at how young they were?

He got to share places he had visited before. I learned to read a map. He got to eat my camp cooking. I saw petroglyphs. We found out our Datsun didn't climb steep grades all that well and neither of us cared.

Friday's Fun Family Foto

What a cutie! Kindergarten, I think, from the date on the back and the lack of a school uniform.

Funniest thing he ever did: Pop up and show unsuspecting passers-by his face (post-gunpowder explosion) while Mom was picking up his prescription at the pharmacy.

Dumbest thing he ever did: Drop a match in the gunpowder (like his cousin showed him) and then bend down to see why it didn't explode. Boom.

Second luckiest thing he ever did: Blink his eyes just before the gunpowder went off.

Luckiest thing he ever did: Met and married my wonderful sister-in-law.

Smartest thing he ever did: Pick me for his sister.

Locking the Barn Door

Life isn't safe. Accidents happen. Tragedy happens. Sickness happens. Poop happens. I'm with the Boy Scouts and their motto "Be Prepared" though. You can buckle up, look both ways, wear clean underwear, take your vitamins, and not follow your friends when they jump off a cliff.

Is your children's school safe? You can, and should, ask hard questions of your school administrators. Find out their disaster plan. What would they do if there is a code red or a lockdown?

Then look at your child's classroom critically and ask if that plan is realistic. Can the teacher lock the door(s) from the inside? Can the view from the windows be blocked? Is there a place inside where the students can shelter? Could law enforcement reliably and easily ascertain which classrooms have a "situation" and which don't?

I know--scary stuff.

I don't want to be dooced, so I'm just making a suggestion that there might be room for improvement at a school near you.

There will never be a better time for it. Be proactive. Stand firm. Demand solutions. You might save a life.

Spring Fever

Actually my temp is perfectly normal, but my eyes tear up until well after lunch and I carry a little bottle of allergy eyedrops EVERYWHERE. The allergies this year are kicking my patootie, big time.

So when my MSN homepage appeared this morning and I saw a blurb about the 100 worst cities for springtime allergies, I figured that northern Nevada would probably occupy the first 50 cities cited.

Instead I am pleased to say that no wonder my poor dear brother-in-law has so many interesting allergies. He grew up in El Paso--number 13 on the list, folks. Truly horrific. You have my sympathies, Big D, and I'm so impressed that you cart your whole allergy-ridden family there to visit. You guys are saints.

And I always knew Las Vegas wasn't anyplace I wanted to live (although I love attending soccer tournaments there)--poor Vegas, number 19. Now I understand why during State Cup I loved the games, but couldn't breathe, slept sitting up, thought I had pneumonia and barely made it home to Urgent Care. Might have been something in the air.

I'm glad we only get to Albuquerque (number 38) in the summer. And even gladder that Son Numero Uno didn't inherit any hayfever.

For those of you who thought San Diego was one of the primo spots in the States--perfect weather year-round, sports, sailboats, fun--also a few pollens like the weather also. Number 54.

One more reason not to ever want to live in SLC, besides the fact that there are no trees, no water, no style and it's way too big--number 60 on the allergy list.

I'm crushed to find Lancaster PA at number 75. My brain--enamored with Amish quilts, farming and all things horses--is struggling with the idea that it's not all natural and healthy living, it's natural and Claritan-Clear living. Gotta love those drugs.

And, alas, Pooh escaped one cesspool only to land in Portland, number 84. Apparently all that lush greenery reproduces and sends its armies of evil minions directly to her home. Forget Clone Wars, it's more like Spore Wars.

Generally speaking, avoid Arizona and Florida as well as some "cities" in Texas that I've never even heard of unless you like living on antihistamines during the spring.

As the slide show of Cities To Avoid progressed, I got a little nervous. I had started out thinking that we'd be high on the list and then found myself wincing a little as each new slide appeared, hoping that perhaps the City of Trembling Leaves wasn't all that bad. (Amazingly) nothing in the Sierra Rainshadow made the list.

I'm not cured, but I'm much happier as I think of everyone out there so much worse off than I.

Family Foto Fantasy for a Freaky Friday

From our fridge: a fantasy.

There's no longer a beard, long braids, a diaper or shaggy blond hair. In fact, there's no longer even a wild California hillside.

We've all changed. Some have grown up and don't let their mom cut their hair anymore. Some have grown up and shed their baby fat and are rail thin. Some have grown older and gained a few pounds. Fashions have changed and tastes have changed. Sadly, we don't all live in the same state anymore.

This little pic decorates our fridge and brings back memories. Little kids and lots of love. Happiness and simplicity.

Life might be more complicated, the kids are grown and there have been so many changes. But the happiness and love are still there.

The Corner Office

It only took 30 plus years, but J.R. has earned a corner office! His morning commute is incredibly short and he reports almost no traffic--that alone is fantastic. If you look closely you can see the dress code is casual. That may not mean much to him, but makes my laundry load a little smaller.

It's not only a corner office, but it has a window. He's never had a window in his office--we'll see if he can resist the great view and still be as productive.

A downside is the lack of air conditioning (other than breezes sent by Mother Nature) which could be nasty when the weather turns summery. That situation might have to be addressed soon. This place doesn't have good storage either so much needed equipment isn't handily available. Good thing he is quite organized and good thing I'm merciless when culling unneeded items for him!

His immediate superior is a plane-commute away in SLC so he will be doing some travelling similar to when the company HQ was in Valencia. But we are both happy to still be Nevadans rather than relocating like so much of the company employees.

Hoppy Easter

Don't eat all your chocolate bunnies in one day!

Spring Rewards

This adorable little Easter bunny hopped my way via one of my morning kindergartners. I love the way the baker caught the typical bunny hunch (I'm not really here at all, Mr. Fox), those cute chubby toes and tucked-in scut. Bunnies are the best.

He tasted quite nice too. Soft, fresh whole-wheat bread with the perfect touch of sweet honey. I'm sentimental, but I admit that I ripped off his bunny feet, followed by his bunny ears and cottontail and popped them into the oven and then turned to menu item number two...
fresh eggs. Just spoil me rotten and get it over with! A morning kindergartner has seven hens a-laying (oops, wrong holiday) and my Easter gift was a decorated flowerpot filled with eggs. Three brown from the Plymouth Rocks and two green...yes, green!...from one of their more-exotic hens.

Applying the prinicple that any egg older than one day is an old egg...
we proceeded to whip up two cheese omelettes accompanied by the aforementioned dismembered and nicely heated bread bunny. Can you see how green that eggshell is? Amazing!

Teachers may not get the highest pay, but there are other reward--like spontaneous hugs and the makings of a simple but perfect dinner.