Happy December 27th!

   As I sit in the airport waiting to head home, I look at the date and am reminded of this same one ten years ago. Ten years! Seems like a lifetime ago. SO many changes and yet, so many things the same. Today I celebrate my 10 year surgiversary!!!       

     Ten years ago I was 214# and miserable. Not only just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. When others see someone fat the usual response is a side eye, a sigh, an internal dialogue that goes something like “she is HUGE....she needs to do something”, or the ever pitiful look....or the disgusted look.  Trust me when I tell you, we fatties are disgusted, we roll our eyes in the mirror, we sigh when we see ourselves and we know we are pitiful and disgusting. We are just like you. We have feelings, thoughts an ideas just as you. We are loved by our families. We are loved by our friends. The only person that doesn’t love us is us.         
     We seek comfort in food. We have love affairs with food. Sometimes we are having a great time and let ourselves go. Next thing we know we are in the cycle of yo yo dieting. Sometimes, we have had a trauma in our lives. These traumas can be known to others or hid behind the mounds of food we consume. We are not much different than an alcoholic. The sad thing is we can not just put the food down because we have to have said food to sustain life. We can’t walk away from the devil. We face him, head on! Sometimes we succeed, sometimes not.  Either way the slogan “just say no” doesn't work. It takes a higher power alright.     I will never forget the hard time it took. So many think it is the easy way out and I will tell you, it is harder than any workout or diet I have ever tried.
     We go into surgery thinking it will be one way and about three days later we start questioning. What the hell have I done to myself!?!?!?! We cry. We think we are starving. We can’t believe anyone chooses this. I would look at my plate and think “this is all?” This is what the rest of my life will look like?? I can’t  even eat two chicken nuggets. We mourn our food like it has somehow died in our lives. Our lover has left us. Our lives will never be the same without them in our lives. The death of the fat person deserves to be eulogized and loved as they leave.
     Somehow, just like all the times before we when can’t see the end of the tunnel. We wake up and there we are standing in the sun. We have found a way through. We have heard the compliments. We have cried all the tears away. We have found a way to live through the ups and downs, the ins and outs of this bariatric life and look at the newbies with compassion and understanding that no one else can give them.
     It sure hasn’t been an easy road these last ten years but the road of life never is. While so many have struggled through the changes, I’ve just adapted the laid back attitude of “whatever”. Whatever happens, happens. What will be, will be. There is nothing we can do to change so many things, but we can change our lives for the better. My better was getting healthier for my children and grandchildren. My better was to be there for my parents. My better has been to get up everyday, try not to overthink the day and make good choices. Isn’t that what life is about? Making good choices? 
     In closing, I would like to go ahead and lay it out there like I always have in my blog. I am 5’3”. My highest weight was 214#. My surgery weight ten years ago today was 206#. My lowest weight was 108#.  I have no idea what today’s weight is for I am on an airplane but, I have stayed between 143-148# the last 4 years or so. I am still considered obese by the medical community. I consider myself just fine where I am. Am I happy when I look in the mirror? Absolutely NO! I am a 57 year old woman that has given birth to two children. I have lived a fun-filled mostly exciting life. I am trying to continue the habit of enjoying the little things and the “ride” to get where I am going. I eat what I want. I drink what I want, with the exception of carbonated drinks and I go where I want. For what could a person ask? 
     No one gets out of here alive. If you aren’t making your life better everyday, you should be. If you aren’t doing what you want to do, you should be. If you aren’t living your life for your “higher power”, you should be. Every step you take is one step closer to not being able to step at all. Get healthy, love yourself and others and get outside to enjoy each day.

Party with David and Covid

     Here we go....that “year in review” kinda blog but kinda not. It is just “that time” blog. I haven’t written in a really long time. I have said for the last few months I needed to write this or that down. It just hasn’t happened. 

     Three hundred sixty three days ago a judge in Catoosa County, GA signed divorce papers that officially ended the marriage we started in 2005. We didn’t make it “facebook” official because at the time it was the holiday season, the day after my birthday, my father was dying and my mom wasn’t doing well at all. Many of you did have the respect enough to send me a private message and ask what was happening while I’m sure others tongues were wagging. We didn’t tell Mama or Daddy and until this past Sunday that was still true. Daddy died not knowing we were divorced. My parents loved him and he them. They have been more parents to him than his own father ever has been. While his mom died when he was in his twenties, mom just stepped up and became that figure in his life. I will never take that relationship away. This is why you will still see us visiting mom together, doing yard work together, etc. We are friendly and still talk. This is the way divorces ought to work. We can all be adults about this and move our relationship into a different perspective.  

     Readers may remember the dream of me seeing David Foster. Guess we all know what happened there. It didn’t happen and was rescheduled for Feb 2021. Now look, He has knocked up his wife! This is a 72 year old man! What the heck!? I’m sure she will probably be due the week of the Atlanta show not to mention the Rona will still be kicking. How long will this guy tour anyway? Looks like another year dreaming again of a live concert with David Foster. With the lack of entertainment venues and events I have about worn out Spotify for sure. I refuse to give up on my Foster dream until the man is pushing up daisies.

     Everybody wants to make 2020 all about the “RONA”. If one takes their day to day and looks back at it did the year REALLY revolve around something one could do nothing about? If it did I feel sorry for those. Life happened out there in the world. Good and bad things, yet things missed. Opportunities denied.  When 2020 started it was full of hope and excitement. It then became a year of denial, death, decision, and divides. Everyone has a story. Every person has experiences. It is how one reacts to those experiences that make up the total person. 

     My reactions this year have not always been the best reactions but I own every one. I still get totally bent out of the frame when I think my mother has not held the hand of a family member in 272 days and counting. My mother, who was married to a man 69 years was denied getting to be at his funeral and be comforted. A woman who always enjoyed having her hair done hasn’t seen a beautician in over a year. She was denied visitation or comfort care as required by law because the facility in which she lives was afraid the family would introduce the virus into their building. As of today, our mother is ONE of FOUR that is testing negative out of every resident there. This means 63 residents have a positive COVID test and guess who brought it into the facility. NOT the families that were denied visits. They have our elderly living in a Petri dish. I sent a message to one of our state representatives in which I stated Hamilton Health was slowly marching our parents to the oven and the blood of our parents was now on their hands for not doing something about it sooner when we requested. SO many people are dying ALONE! This should infuriate any one with a heart. NO ONE should EVER die alone. NO ONE should have to decide which ONE person stays with their parent as they draw their last breaths. Thankfully, Daddy passed away the second week of shut down so we were fortunate to be able to gather around him. I am thankful Mama is kicking corona butt right now. I pray every day that it continues and those around her get better. Should this change my good attitude could change and turn on a dime. I’ll have a glass cutter to a window in a matter of minutes. How can people in power not do something about this? Why has the national guard not been called in to clean the facility? Why did it have to get to 63 residents before they closed everything down? When you have staff testing positive why are they working without a fever? A positive is a positive with or without a fever. Whomever made that call has coals of fire reaped upon their head as that is my prayer for them. So many mistakes were made. Some of those mistakes are innocent, unknown entities. Other decisions weren’t mistakes they were STUPID calls. When one doesn’t have the educational background to support the decisions that are being made that person should seek out help. Learn and listen. Never turn a back to people in the know trying to shine a light on your path. So, enough of that. It changes nothing other than me blowing steam. 

     All of a sudden a whirlwind came in while I was working and turned the world upside down as I knew it.  The whirlwind of change. The whirlwind of the government and youth. Within this year not only have I lost a parent. I have a mom in locked down. My daughter and son in law sell their home in Alabama and move to Pennsylvania. Thank you to the government, (NOT). While I am totally excited that Casey is again proud to be a Marine again after having lived through hell, my hell feels like it is just starting. Ok, so it isn’t THAT bad but it sure looked good on paper. Lol As any mom knows, your daughter becomes your bud and when your bud moves away a part of your heart goes with her. Not to mention I kinda love the two boys that hang out with her. 

     On the heels of the relocation of one child, my other child decides he will move to Florida. What does one do when they are in their 20s and their wife says “hey let’s go”? You do exactly as they did and get up and go! NEVER let an opportunity or dream take a backseat because of fear. The fear of change, fear of leaving parents should never stop one from taking a leap. Follow dreams as far as they will carry. It isn’t easy as a mama to say it but I mean every uneasy word of it. 

     So what does a mom do when her children take off? She follows her dreams! My house is now for sale and the dream of building on the farm I’ve longed for is within reach. I say it is within reach but a house for sale during the holidays, doesn’t move very fast. Building materials and election year uncertainty sure has slowed the wheels of the dream. If the dream never becomes reality I still have the most beautiful house plans drawn to my specs. 

     The latest endeavor has been one I would have never in a million years thought I would do. I am a H.O.G. member. I am an official Harley person. This spring an off handed comment to “go for a ride” has turned into some of the best friends in which a girl could surround herself. Ryan and I go all the way back to high school as far as hanging out. So many people have asked if we are “dating”. The answer is no we are not. We have one of the longest running friendships. We used to run the lake together and enjoyed it so much we decided as long as we were enjoying ourselves we might as well share it. So, here we are sharing fun times together with friends! He has introduced me to people whom I trust with my life. I don’t know if  all motorcycle clubs are like ours but this I know; these are the most caring individuals one could ever meet. They are giving, welcoming and kind. They took me in and made me one of their own. They give back to their community and are always looking for ways to help others. They have given in ways to me that I could never repay. 

     On my way to becoming an official H.O.G. I have gotten to see some of the most beautiful terrain. I have tried to include my friends by sharing pictures along the way. I have gotten to ride The Dragon that in the past I had heard so much about. I have been so hot I thought I would fry, so cold I thought I was growing icicles and so wet I could ring out my socks. Even during the most extreme rides, the rides were awesome. 

     This Spring I mentioned to Ryan that I would like to find the grave of one of my first friends I made when I came to Chattanooga. His name was Tony Green and he passed before my Taylor was born. Some of you may have known Tony, some may have heard me speak of Tony. Tony was my first true experience with AIDS/HIV. His death was horrible to watch but he gave so much hope to others. 

     We found Tony’s grave a few weeks ago. It was a strange encounter indeed. Many times over the years I have thought about finding it. When we did, I saw on the gravestones, Tony’s mother had died in the spring. She lived a long life without her son she loved dearly. Tony’s father’s grave was fresh with unearthed ground and week old flowers. Seems mine and Tony’s connection had continued all these years without my knowledge. One of our parents died the same year, same season and just when I was speaking of finding the gravesite. The irony was not lost on me with the timing of my visit to him after almost 30 years. 

          This will be our first Christmas without Daddy. Well, without Mama for that matter, so is it really Christmas if one parent is still alive but not in attendance? Our family’s answer is “no”. It is not Christmas at our house. While we will be having our Christmas dinner etc with our immediate family, with the children, we will not be getting together as the extended family until Mom can bust out of jail. We have promised Mom a big Christmas party even if it is July. We are waiting to have it with her. I know it never surprises anyone when they pass Marshall Drive and there is something fun going on. If you drive by and there is a party going on then you will know it is CHRISTMAS!

     This reminds me of a story........Everyone that knows me and my family knows my parents did not smoke or drink and it was not allowed in their house. The only people allowed to smoke was Gene Lane and Preacher Hogan. There was a time others smoked in the house. It wasn’t me! I promise! However, there was this party. It was HUGE. How I ended up with that many people on Marshall Drive I will never know. Remember, this was BEFORE the internet. This was when we still had curly q phone cords. I had never seen so much garbage or cigarette butts in my life. I also can not believe I was naive enough to think that Mr and Mrs Millican wouldn’t tell Mom and Dad that I had a party. Their son Max came as the party was winding down and said he was going to walk through the house and make sure nothing was out of sorts. Lol Little did I realize how much truly could have been out of sorts. The next morning I cleaned like a mad woman. I raised the windows, sprayed everything I possibly could and had all the beer cans and butts picked up and hauled off. When I returned to the house one could smell it from the driveway! I don’t know what they said to one another but I remember mom and dad not saying a word about it to me. There is NO WAY they did not smell it. There is NO way my daddy who had a nose like a bloodhound couldn’t tell how many people were there, what brand beer they were drinking and how many smokes they had. I thought I had truly gotten away with something. Makes me laugh to think about how we as kids and young adults think our parents aren’t smart enough to figure us out when we lay the evidence at their feet.

     I honestly NEVER snuck out when I was younger but boy could I sneak people in!  I wonder....... never mind, that is a story for later....... Until then............

     

My Daddy

     And just like that..... back to work and whatever the new normal becomes.

Fifty six years ago I became the last daughter to my parents. Daddy always liked to tell every one I was supposed to be a boy named Bruce Allen. How he knew what I was supposed to be I’ll never know but I became his sidekick, his tomboy. I’ve heard so many stories from Daddy I could almost repeat them verbatim. So, guess what? You are about to be subjected to LeBron stories. 

     When I was a little kid Daddy and his best bud Preacher Hogan worked on cars. I remember Hogan was always on the carport so much under a car that I have no memory of him every being in the house! He worked at the NAPA store in downtown Dalton and when we stopped in I always got to turn the knob on the chicklet gum machine. I wasn’t but around 3-4 years old and was underfoot on the carport. I wanted to help Daddy and Hogan and being the little sidekick Daddy figured out a way to keep me busy....usually. He told of a time I had on a white smock and was piddling around them. He told me several times to go play but there I was. He gave me the shoo one last time and off I scampered only to return with oil all over my smock. I had stuck my hands into some of the crud and smeared it all over the front announcing “I help now Daddy”. I’m sure I got a swat on the butt for that but I don’t remember and he never admitted to it. We all know it wouldn’t have come from him anyway. The oldest of us girls always said “you are so spoiled”. Well, it really wasn’t my fault. They all had a hand in it and the baby girl is supposed to be Daddy’s girl and spoiled isn’t she?

     While jumping on the bed one time, I fell busting my lip. It wasn’t just any little busted lip. I bit right through it and ended up in the ER getting stitches. It was told I ate more food than allowed when I got home. I don’t remember it but later in life the allowance of things that should go in my stomach should have been more limited. I have an aversion to cheese puffs and learned to push away after Daddy said I needed to not eat so many of them. I didn’t believe him at that time because he was still eating them. Guess who threw up cheese puffs? Wasn’t Daddy.....He was still eating cheese puffs in the nursing two weeks before he passed. I have never eaten another one!

     At five I was being my usual self and going a little too fast on the neighbor’s breezeway. Down I went and crack went the arm. The first of several broken bones along the way. While in the ER along comes Daddy. He wasn’t there because I had broken my arm. He was there because he had a work accident. I believe he scalded his foot but I’m not sure. One of the siblings would have to clarify that one. To say we did things together would be truthful if you count that little visit. It also wasn’t the last time I was in the ER with Daddy.

     Then, it seems Daddy disappeared. As an adult I know exactly what happened. Daddy was supporting a family of six working two jobs while Mom was busy keeping children and sewing. I have some wonderful memories of Rebecca, Fran and Melanie during this time but not a lot of my Daddy. I do remember one time going to Gibson’s where he worked produce. I bagged lettuce heads and thought it was crazy how fast he could do that. There was no job too menial for a man trying to support his family.

    Soon after the sisters went on to marry and leave the nest leaving me and Steve at home. Going from a family of six to a family of four meant Daddy could work one job. 1970s in the Patterson household held a CB base station. Every evening when Daddy headed home I would have the CB turned up so I could hear “breaker, breaker, come in taterbug”. “This is Taterbug, is this Coat-hanger?”  Of course it was and this exchange went on until he reached the house. I would run and jump into his arms. He always would tell people the running and jumping continued until I was about 16 and as I ran he held up his hands screaming “NO NO NO” we were both a little old (and too big) to be continuing that little scenario. 

     Dating was very interesting whenever Daddy was home. He tried several times to intimidate my dates and sometime it worked. He tried to point me toward the boys he wanted me to date and that worked sometimes. One boy in particular, “that Painter boy” as Daddy called him, was one of them. Bruce knocked on the door at the appointed time and who should answer the door but my daddy holding a shotgun. Bruce laughs, reaches for the gun and they spent the next hour discussing weapons! 

     Fussing and fighting was commonplace at the Patterson household. It was always something. Mom always cut Daddy’s hair and true to form the fussing was continuous. He would pull on the sides and tell her she wasn’t doing it right. She rarely fussed back, well until I got older. It was a funny exchange when mom found her voice, but I digress. Daddy was showing some serious signs of Parkinson’s when Mom asked me to cut his hair. He was no longer his fun loving silly self a lot of times and the yelling got louder. I called him into the sunroom and told him Mom wanted me to cut his hair. I don’t know how I did it with such finesse but he readily agreed to let me. I struck a deal with him that he wasn’t to say a word to me unless it was good or I was going to charge him $8. He never one time complained about my haircuts, always said he liked it and thanked me when we finished. Some would find it morbid, hard or weird but I had the pleasure of cutting Daddy’s hair one last time at the funeral home after Dan got him ready for me. It was one last time I got to spend alone with my Daddy. It was time I needed to do one last act of service as he had pattered for me. 

     Learning to drive with LeBron Patterson was definitely that....a learning experience. Putting two people in one car with the same attitude can spell trouble. His favorite lines were “if you’ll just give me your mind”, “you have to always be on the defense not the offense”, and “if you will just listen”. His theory was one would have three wrecks before they would truly learn to drive or zero wrecks and they knew how to drive defensively. I must have been a pretty good defensive driver as I never wrecked. April on the other hand, had a few. Anytime we took a long trip I was the only one Daddy would let drive him. Otherwise it was him behind the wheel. Me trying to teach him to wear his seatbelt was a whole other mountain to get over. Never was there a single time that I backed out of the driveway on Marshall Drive that I didn’t hear “watch my truck”. Believe me when I say, sometimes I even acted like I was going to hit it on purpose..... I know.....

     Whether dating or going out with friends or leaving the nest to move to Augusta, “I love you“s were offered up by me. Daddy’s response was “We love you”. It became the running joke. Daddy NEVER said “I” it was always “we”. His theory was when he and mama married they became one. I’m sure it was a generational thing that real men didn’t say those things. My children were born and still the joking continued about “we”. The first time Daddy told me he loved me was just before I walked down the aisle to be married. Imagine my shock! I was a nervous wreck, questioning my decision and instead of asking me if I was sure, he told me he loved me!! Holy Cow! I got to my betrothed and Dad kissed me AND mom, my mouth was agape. I believe I should have had that marriage annulled because I was in shock. I didn’t know what I was doing after the “I” came out of his mouth. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. I couldn’t object so I forever held my peace. Ok, I held my peace until I didn’t. I realized today (3/23) tomorrow is the 30th anniversary of those magic words being spoken.

     Preacher Darey had a sermon on love at some point that I was driving Daddy back and forth to church services on Sunday. On the way home I told him he needed to go in the house and tell mama he loved her. We walked in and he couldn’t do it without a whole lot of prodding and giggling. He grabbed her and said “I do you know”. My silly father FINALLY said “I love you” to my mom. I don’t know how long it had been since he had spoken those words to her but we all remember that moment in time because it was a momentous time in our lives. From that day forward Daddy always said “I love you” or “love you too”. It changed my life. I always KNEW he did but to hear those words were golden. Those words were also the last ones he spoke to me. Golden words indeed.

     Daddy loved by acts of service. He showed love to everyone. As Darey said at the funeral he was known by many names. 

Wimpy to his friends and family growing up

Uncle LeBron to those nieces and nephews that he loved so well

Pat to those friends and co workers in Dalton

Sarge to Nelda and David as he tried to guide them along

Coat Hanger to the CB folks within hearing distance

Bicycle Man to Brian who couldn’t seem to keep a chain on his bike

Mr Patterson to our friends

Mr Pat to Melanie, Fran, Rebecca and a host of other girls that I ran with

Hey Ump to many Whitfield county boys and girls that played ball

Husband of 69 years to my Mama

Daddy to Kathy, Teresa, Steve and of course me

Granddaddy to Nancy, Robert, April, Stacy, Carson, Cole, Emma Kate, Andrew, Olivia, Kristen, Kelly, Hunter, Casey and Finn

Number 1 to Taylor as the mutual admiration society was in full swing

Grandpat to Bradley 

Papaw to Hollie

     He was special to so many. As we were setting up his service at the funeral home I asked Julian how many bodies he thought Daddy had picked up for him. Julian responded “Over 5000”. That is unbelievable. That is a lot of people that he reached. It was his calling. He was good at it. He would drop everything that was going on to go and help. It wasn’t just the funeral home it was anyone in need. All they had to do was call and Dad would do what he could. Now, I’m not saying that some of those “helps” didn’t come without a lesson or a string. Usually the string was the lesson, one just had to look for the lesson sometime. I have pulled many strings. On occasion, I hear those lessons come out of my mouth.

     Daddy taught me many things. He taught me how to pitch and drop a softball into a bucket. He taught me how to drive. He taught me not to let anyone get the best of me. That last lesson was good when some crazy date thought there was more there than there was. My mouth was quick and would slice and dice before you knew you had been cut. Unfortunately, that independence has been both a blessing and a curse. Daddy never had to worry about me when I was gone. I stood tall. It didn’t serve me well when it came to my marriages. Just like there was the right way, the wrong way and LeBron’s way, I have the same seed deep down. My way or highway usually. Does it count if I recognize it? 

     Mom and Dad made sure we were in church every time the doors were open.  I don’t know where I would be today if I hadn’t seen my mama doing her Bible study every morning. Her prayer requests on the bathroom counter. Every Sunday morning Daddy was studying his Sunday School lesson and polishing his shoes. We were ALWAYS early to church (anywhere we went actually) and he always had a job. He was part of the original men that transported the handicap. He was a deacon, training union director, Sunday School teacher. He sang in the choir on men’s night and would sing falsetto being silly when singing next to me. There was zero doubt where my Daddy longed to be when he left this world.

     The last few years have been very hard on all involved. As we watched our Daddy becoming more dependent on us, I hope he realized he had done a good job by showing us how it is done with humility and grace. I wouldn’t have traded one second of those last breaths for anything. It was so calming almost cathartic. I had told Mom and Dad a while back that as they were leaving this earth I was going to encourage them to run. Run to Jesus. We had all let Daddy know we were going to be ok for he always made sure we were. As his number one sat holding his hand, me on the other side, my two sisters, sis in law, mom and Brother Darey I did just as I had promised. I told my daddy the hardest thing I have ever had to tell him and that was “RUN DADDY”! Run he did too. 

Thoughts, prayers and friends

     I’ve been trying hard to get my thoughts together to blog, but alas, the squirrels are always the winners. I have so much to say but choose not to say some of it. I have many thoughts that I filter through. Many have wondered what’s been happening in my world for I have seemed unusually quiet. While this blog will probably not answer those questions it will probably spur more questions and after all that is my favorite thing....stirring up thought processes. People creating stories for fun. Idea invoking conversation. Changes are inevitable, can you be the change?

     So many changes in my world, but with those changes sometimes it seems as if nothing has. I usually do a “year in review” as most of you have or maybe a funny tale of a happening that would only happen to me. But this blog is rambling.....no particular subject no specific happening, just words on a page the reader may or may not be interested in. 

     I decided I would start one of the “good things” jars for the new year. The one where you put a note in every week of something good that’s happened. Something you can refer back to when it feels your life is going to hell in a hand basket or to read on New Year’s Eve to reflect on the year. It didn’t take but a few days in and I already had the most excellent entry.

     Many of you know my heat has been out downstairs for a little over a week. Thankfully it wasn’t freezing outside and I don’t mind bundling up in my easy chair. It is comforting to me for some reason. I had heat upstairs if I got too cold but coming down in the am to let the dog out was definitely a quick way to wake up for sure! Naila wasn’t having it that I wanted to stay in bed anyway. She looked at me like I was all kinds of crazy when I told her we could just stay in the bed. Could have been because she had no idea what I was talking about but, hey, who doesn’t talk to their dog like they understand?

     My lifelong friend Eddie Pilcher has always worked on my heat and air since my first house. We’ve always joked that I am his first wife. His wife will call sometimes when he is here and even ask if he is at his first wife’s house! LOL Eddie and I are always cutting up and having a good time no matter where we are and I trust him to shoot straight with me whether I like it or not. I texted him when I first noticed the problem but thought I had fixed it. It wasn’t that I had fixed it as much as I had bypassed the system and it was warmer outside so I didn’t notice it when after that one bypass it didn’t work again. Imagine my surprise when I call and he says he is officially on vacation and won’t be back for a week. You know finances are tight when you would rather sit in the cold and let your buddy tell you the truth than have someone charge a service call and tell you. So I waited the vacay out. After all, Naila didn’t seem to mind.

     I have been praying a multitude of prayers with so many different subjects I’m sure Jesus is pulling out his notepad because of my haphazard prayers, requests, and otherwise ramblings to him. I’m so thankful he understands and can decipher my brain when it doesn’t even make sense to me. My prayer yesterday was a continual “Lord, you know my finances have taken a hit the last few months and I will just have to sit in the cold if it is a major fix. Please, please, PLEASE, let it not be major”. Giddy was not even the word I would use to describe me yesterday when I was on the phone with Eddie. I was praising the Lord for SPIDERS! YES, SPIDERS! Seems those pesky little creatures had decided to build a nest of sorts over two of the burners outside. We are both in awe of how the gas smell didn’t harm them. Needless to say, Eddie cleaned off the burners and tada, HEAT! Some may say God doesn’t hear but I say he sends spiders if that’s what it takes. My children would say it is still cold in here but I’m so happy at 67 I will not complain at all. 

     My half bath has been in disarray for over a year. When I get in a mood it can get bad. The wallpaper had been up since they built the house and the bathroom was the only place left that had it remaining. You know what happens when I get in a mood and have time on my hands in the bathroom? I started peeling wallpaper. It didn’t’ help that there was a seam right next to the toilet. It called to me with every visit. Twenty year old wallpaper is ridiculous I might add. Whomever put the wallpaper on the walls without priming it has a voodoo hex on him. I said some pretty nasty things while peeling little minute pieces off the wall. The holes it left in the sheetrock could not be hid. Enter yet another wonderful friend!

     If you don’t have friends like mine you just have acquaintances. I may have to wait until their vacation is over or they have time to fit me into their schedule but I know I can ALWAYS count on them. I can not love these people enough. Just before Christmas a friend had one of his guys come in and mud and prep the walls for me in the half bath. Finally, yesterday I got the paint on the walls and on me of course but not on the floor. Time for the sink and toilet to be put back and I have a whole new, wonderfully modern half bath.

     Sunday I was visiting with Mom and Dad and told Daddy I needed to go paint. He hasn’t been speaking the last few weeks. We know our time is few limited with him and the time with him is precious even if he doesn’t know we are there. Sunday was a wonderful day for he was bright eyed and was trying to talk. His words are very hard to understand but the little mockingbird was talking. I asked him if he would help me paint. He said “I will help you”. This tore at my heartstrings because I knew he would jump up from that wheelchair and have a paintbrush in his hand again in an instant if he could. I hugged him and told him I knew he would if he could and he repeated he would if he could. Many times he and I have painted together. He taught me how to cut in without making a mark on the ceiling or baseboards. He taught me how not to put too much paint on my roller as not to get splatters on the floor. I know he would be proud if he could see the bathroom. Not a single drop cloth was used and only one slight boo boo on the ceiling. 

     Since Hunter has moved out and a few other changes around here it sure has been quiet. I wear my “ears” often. My hearing aids can be connected to a device that streams the tv directly to my aids. I call it “my ears”.  It is a wonderful apparatus and I would recommend it to anyone that has to have hearing aids. The sound on the tv is mute and when my ears aren’t on all one hears is the refrigerator and ice maker. My silly guard dog, ok, she isn’t a guard dog but she is loud, loves bunnies. When sitting in a quiet space reading you can’t imagine how high you can jump when she jumps up and starts barking at those silly things. She will make you have to peel yourself off the ceiling like Sylvester the cat. How she hears them or the neighbor’s dog I have no idea. Sometimes she runs to the garage door barking. I’m always afraid of mice when she does that so it makes me hyper aware. I might need a garage cat. If I weren’t allergic I would have one today. It would be an argument between the two who was the boss because Naila is the princess even if it is in her own mind. 

     If I could teach this dog to dust and sweep floors I would be set. She is here all day wandering around I would like to think she needs something to do while she guards the house. Her long hair loves to gather up the dust bunnies and hide under the couch. One time I moved the couch and thought there was an entire dog under there!! If anyone knows of someone that can train a dog to dust, let me know. I would like to add them to my list of awesome and amazing friends. 

     If you don’t have a set of friends like mine be that friend. I have found when you give your time and effort to your friends’ lives they will invest back into yours. Much like a hug, what you give away you get back in return. Make a phone call and check on those closest to you. Write a quick text or DM and let them know you appreciate them. Pray over them without ever letting them know. Be the blessing to someone who may need it at that particular moment. We never know what another person is truly going through. 

     Have a wonderfully, blessed, sunny day and remember, if you ever need a little entertainment peek into my life. There is ALWAYS something happening.