Saturday, January 31, 2009

Heartstrings

Is there anything better? Than grandchildren, I mean. I don't think so. I took this picture of Tyler and Jaden last weekend; we went to check out the park near their new home. I'm sure when most people look at this picture, they see two pretty cute boys. When I look at it, though, something almost physical happens in my heart (and no, I don't think it's just my pacemaker firing). It's taken me a lot of years to finally understand the saying "tugging at my heartstrings." Oh, how I love these boys!

Closet Envy

Let me start by saying that I don't in the least begrudge Erin her new house. I love it and I'm so happy that she has it. I'm excited for her and Jeff and the boys, happy that they are in this great new home, in what looks to be a great neighborhood. And of course I'm thrilled they're now so close to me that much more frequent visiting will be possible. The only thing I'll freely admit to is a fair amount of closet envy. I don't know if there's a real word that describes the feeling, but I bet you know what I mean if you don't have enough closets or storage space in your house.

When I bought my house 11 years ago, I was not thinking about closets when I looked at the models, and even when I did my walk-through right before getting the keys to my new home. It wasn't until we were moved in, probably the first time I went to put away the vacuum cleaner. I literally walked all around the downstairs, looking for some kind of a closet. Guess what? There wasn't one. Upstairs, there's a small linen closet. That's it. The bedrooms have the requisite closets, of course, and there's a nice walk-in closet in the master bedroom. But there is nary a single spot for storage downstairs. The kitchen storage space is pretty slim, too, with only a few cupboards and not a whole lot of counter space. It has been fine, however, and I haven't lamented this lack too very much all these years.


Until now. When I went through Erin's perfect new house last week, that was definitely what I came away with--the feeling that I was jealous of all that storage space. I shopped at Costco today, and when I came home the first thing I thought was, "If I was Erin, I'd have no problem trying to figure out where to put this stuff!" Or maybe I actually
would have a problem--choosing between all the options! This walk-in linen closet alone is enough to die for, as they say. (It actually looks bigger in person, if you can believe it.)

And then there's the kitchen. Let's see, how many cupboards? And how many feet of counter space? And just in case there aren't quite enough cupboards, there's the gigantic walk-in pantry. Hmmm. I told Erin that she doesn't have an excuse to ever have anything out of place. I don't want to hear it. Yes, I think I am suffering from closet envy. I admit it. I know, it's not pretty.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Wake up, Jessica!!!


Recently a helpful "friend" suggested to me that I should just "make Jessica get up at a decent time," that she would feel better and it would be better for her. This came about because she sometimes misses church or other things that happen in the morning. She simply can NOT get up early. And if she does, she pays for it later, and ends up feeling terrible and needing to sleep during the day. I was explaining to this "friend" that she takes a boatload of pills in the morning and again at night, most of which have sleepiness as their main side effect. Not to mention my awareness that people whose brain is starved for oxygen, as hers is because of her Moyamoya disease, simply need more sleep than people with healthy, well-oxygenated brains do, and in fact cannot function without it.

So tonight when I was getting her meds ready for the upcoming week, I snapped these pictures. This is the handful of pills she takes every morning, and there is a similar or larger batch in the evening.

Sometimes I wish people would keep their helpful comments and suggestions to themselves, especially when they really don't know what they're talking about. And I'm very grateful for real friends (and I feel blessed and grateful that they are in the vast majority) who make the effort to try to understand the situation before they start suggesting helpful solutions.

Do I sound bitter? Maybe a little. Sometimes.



The Perfect House

We went to see Erin & Jeff's new house in Beaumont this afternoon.  I have to say, it is THE perfect house.  I took lots of inside pictures too, but they just moved in and things aren't "just so" yet, and I didn't think Erin or Jeff would appreciate me sharing them at this point.  Let me just say this: I have never seen so many cupboards, closets, shelves, and storage spaces before.  I told Erin I had expected to be impressed by the kitchen and maybe the master bedroom/bath, but I think I came away more in love with the closets than anything else. How crazy is that?  I cannot imagine that they will ever fill all these spaces up, although I'm sure they will--eventually.  I can see them living happily there forever.  In fact, Jeff says he hopes to retire there, and I believe he will.  My second favorite part of this move is that it's only 30 minutes from my house.  I see lots of Sunday dinners, Saturday visits, soccer/baseball games, and school programs in my future, something that Blythe made impossible at 2 1/2 hours away.  It is a beautiful house, perfect for them.  But the best part is I know they'll make it a loving home.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Old Friends

Exploring the world of Facebook recently has reminded me how much I treasure old friends. It has been rewarding to find some of them with whom I have been out of touch of late, some for quite a long time. I have a little plaque in my kitchen that says "The best antiques are old friends." It's true. There's nothing (at least for me) like having a history with people. Friends might mean a bit more to me, perhaps, because I don't have family, really. My father wasn't in my life for years, and passed away a few years ago. My mother has been dead for many years. Regrettably, I have been out of touch with my only sibling, my younger sister, for many years. I have very little extended family, as well; two aunts with whom I am in contact via e-mail and fairly infrequent phone calls.

I recently gave my friend Carol a plaque (second "plaque" reference--do I sense a theme here?) which reads "Friends are the family we choose for ourselves." (I stole this picture from her blog--thank you, Carol.) That is how I feel about my closest friends; they sustain me, as I can only imagine family would, or should. I don't know how much closer I could feel to them if they were family; they are what I do have, and I am grateful--I love them.

I've noticed as I've gotten older that I don't seem to have much of an interest in making new friends. Other than people who come into my life through work, and who I see on a daily basis--some of whom have indeed become very good friends--I have little opportunity, and admittedly make little effort, to meet new people. Maybe that's why old friends are even more treasured. I wonder--is this
an "aging" thing, or is it just me? Or is it just the manifestation of a basically introverted nature? Maybe introverts just like the ease of relating to people who have known us forever, just so we can save ourselves the effort (and initial discomfort) of forming new relationships.

Hmmm... This isn't where I thought this was going. Sometimes this process takes on kind of a stream-of-consciousness, journaling sort of thing. Is that good, or just TMI? I wonder.

Just as I was posting this entry, I saw this quote on the sidebar of my blog, a quote from John Quin
cy Adams: "A man's diary is a record in youth of his sentiments, in middle age of his actions, in old age of his reflections." Ah, here's the answer to my question already. I'm just "reflecting."

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Seinfeld



We were talking at lunch today about the influence this show has had on our society, how often it is referenced in everyday conversation. Yada-yada, low- and high-talkers, even close talkers. There was the Soup Nazi -- "No soup for you!" There's "re-gifter," "mimbo," and "man-hands." Wikipedia says that "the Seinfeld community can draw upon a whole lexicon of Seinfeldian code words and recurring phrases."

There are so many times that everyday conversation reminds me of an episode or a character or a situation from the show. I'm not sure I really understand exactly what the appeal of the show is for me, actually. It's not that I have a single thing in common with any of the characters, or can actually relate to them in any way. Also, it's not like any of the characters are one bit admirable. It's funny, too, because usually I don't enjoy sitcoms; there isn't one single sitcom that I regularly watch this season, or for the last decade of seasons, actually. I just really enjoyed this one, and still do; it seems that the more often I watch it, the more I laugh. Sometimes when I'm doing mindless chores, I put it on in the background, and I even enjoy it that way. I know it so well I don't have to really pay attention, but I always know the great lines coming up, and I'll stop and watch them.

One appeal the show had for me, when I stop to think about it (as I'm doing now), is the continuity of storylines within shows and between shows throughout the seasons. Often characters or situations from past episodes are referenced, and you must know the connection to fully enjoy the joke. That might be why watching it over and over again continues to appeal, because I am reminded of those connections. Sometimes I'm surprised by how many of these little seemingly unrelated "in jokes" are included in a single episode. I think this is why, too, people who try to pick up a random episode here and there will often say, "I don't get it." They mean, of course, that it doesn't seem funny to them, or they don't understand why the show was so popular. It might be one of those "you had to be there" things. Often, individual situations are admittedly not funny. When Newman appears at Jerry's door, you know way before he says it that Jerry's reaction is going to be to spit out the words "Hello, Newman!" as though they have a particularly disgusting taste in his mouth. Elaine says, "GET OUT!" in response to great news, as she knocks the person delivering the news to the floor. On their own, these things would not be funny; it's the whole history of the relationships and behaviors that somehow makes it so.

When the finale aired in 1998, there was lots of discussion that it couldn't possibly live up to the hype that preceded it. I remember people talking about being disappointed by the finale. But whenever I watch the final episodes in reruns, I find them quite satisfying; it does in two shows what all the previous seasons did, but in a concentrated format. It brings back many, many of the characters and brings to mind all of the situations they were involved in. You just have to laugh. At least I do.





Monday, January 19, 2009

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Rosa Parks in the 1960's (with Martin Luther King in the background). Also, in her mugshot after her infamous arrest on the bus.

In her later years. I believe she died in 2005.


I am watching the movie "The Rosa Parks Story" on TV today, with Angela Bassett as Parks. I recommend it; it would be educative for people who are not familiar with her story. I think too many people forget (or don't really even believe) how things really were then. I decided to do at least some small thing to think of and honor Dr. King today. Granted, this isn't much, but my heart is there.



I watched the Obama Inauguration concert yesterday, and admit to feeling a long-forgotten hope for the future of race relations that I used to feel when I listened to Dr. King speak. I also listened to King's entire "I Have A Dream" speech from 1963, and was instantly brought back to that time, when I was 15 years old and very affected by the civil rights movement. I was especially touched to see Pete Seeger (who must be 90 or so) there, leading the other performers and thousands in the audience in singing "This Land Is Your Land;" that brought back so many memories of that time and that song as my introduction to folk music, which I love to this day. Ideas about fairness and right and wrong were implanted in my mind and in my heart, through both the movement and the music; I could not have foreseen how they would influence me for the rest of my life, but they certainly have, and I believe for the better (although not always easier).

The Adventures of Bella and Cocoa


Michael suggested this title when I first discussed blogging with him. Some days it does feel like this is my life. I just dropped both dogs off at the vet for the day.

I can see why Bella was given up by her first owners. She is huge (164 pounds as of this morning when I weighed her at the vet's) and has lots of "issues." She's timid, won't even go through a partially opened door unless she can squeeze through without touching it. She has major allergies, and although we haven't pinpointed the cause for sure of all of them, it appears grass is the main offender. How exactly does one get a dog to avoid grass? She's on medication which has worked well for some months, but lately is no longer effective. The poor thing goes around shaking her head constantly, because of her itching ears. She chews on the insides of her itching paws to the point where they get raw. So I think we're going to have to go to the next step, which I believe will be injections. I can't even imagine what that's going to cost! Additionally, she's very insecure and has a lot of anxiety, which manifests itself in chewing behavior. Now this might be just irritating with a little "puffball" doggie, but when you put Mastiff jaws into this activity, you have major damage!
















The first picture is our satellite remote BEFORE Bella... and the second one is obviously after--the whole top is gone!



So we have learned to be careful never to leave her alone. We put her in a crate when we leave the house for a few hours, and she's perfectly happy and secure in there, just goes calmly and quickly to sleep. And I've learned to let her sleep in my bedroom with me, and she's perfectly happy. As long as she can see one of "her people," she's happy and absolutely perfect. Poor anxiety-ridden puppy.

Then there's Cocoa. He's our old man Cocker Spaniel, now 12 years old. Seems he's gone deaf somewhere in the last year or so. He also suffers from some anxiety, it seems, as he has the charming habit of howling hysterically whenever he's left alone. And this includes being downstairs at night when we're upstairs sleeping. We hear him "singing" when we leave the house. These little songs usually last about 60-90 seconds, and then he's quiet. But they are increasing in frequency, it seems, so I asked the vet this morning about maybe getting medication for him too, maybe some "puppy Prozac"? Maybe going deaf makes this happen; I've heard that when dogs lose their hearing they tend to bark more, just to hear themselves. Who knows. All I know is that it's very irritating and embarrassing; I'm surprised our neighbors have not reported us for beating him. He sounds exactly like a dog who is being beaten and tortured. My friend Claudia referred to him as "psycho dog" when she heard him over the phone. Once the screaming is over, he settles down and goes back to being quite normal--until the next time!

So after reading this litany of issues, I see why Michael suggested the title. I'm sure any non-dog people reading this cannot even imagine why I would put myself through all of this, and it's impossible to explain to those people. And I even read this and say good grief! Why on earth do I put up with it? Well, Cocoa is too old to find a new home; I feel committed to him just because it wouldn't be fair. And with Bella, even though she is a far bigger headache, Jessica and I both just really love her. She's the sweetest dog I've ever known, and I've had a lot of them over the years, so even with all her problems I'm keeping her too.

I have said, though--and my plan is to stick to this--that when these dogs go to puppy heaven, that's it. No more dogs! I'm done. And after re-reading this post, I feel justified, and think this is a good plan!

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Lists

It is Saturday morning, the beginning of a long weekend. Endless potential at this moment. I woke up this morning thinking of how much I want (need) to get done this long weekend. Almost immediately, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that there is no possible way to accomplish even a portion of what I'm thinking about. I realized that this often is my thought process, and it severely limits my ability to complete a lot of things that would be possible without this negative tendency of mine.

The process goes like this. I think about the enormity of the job(s), either individually or in number. Then my almost-ever-present negative thought process takes over. For instance, this morning my thoughts ran this way. The project list includes all the usual suspects for a Saturday:
1) laundry
2) vacuuming
3) trimming hedges in front yard
4) sweeping the porch
5) getting rid of the Christmas lights that are still on the house
6) buying groceries
7) cleaning out the fridge and maybe the freezer
8) paying bills
9) going through and dealing with the week's mail
10) taking Jessica to do something (mostly just to get her out of the house-- she's usually quite satisfied with just a quick shopping trip to Target or Wal-Mart)
11) making phone calls for a church assignment
12) making phone calls to firm up some arrangements for some of Jessica's
medical needs and appointments for the next few weeks
13) it's Stake Conference this weekend, so factor in this evening's meeting

That's pretty much the list for today, for a start; I know there are items I'm forgetting, and will add later. Then, because this is a long weekend, I start thinking that I should take advantage of that and get more done. After all, when is the next three-day weekend? I don't even know, but I suspect it's quite a while down the road. I wanted to go out to Blythe to help Erin & Jeff pack for their move next week, but realized I'd have to get my car into the shop first because I don't like the way it's sounding lately (it is getting old after all, just like its owner), and don't want to drive the 350-plus mile round trip without getting it checked out. So, I should squeeze in a visit to the mechanic somehow today too. Right away I realized that's probably not going to happen, so I scrap the idea and put that off until Monday, which eliminates the Blythe trip.

So, the additional projects I feel like I should take on include:

* Finally taking the time to sit down with the owners manuals of the two new digital picture frames I got for Christmas and figuring out how to get them to actually work.

* Getting the new DVD/VCR player/recorder I bought some time ago (quite a few weeks ago, actually) working with my satellite system and current component set-up. This is a project which gets delayed because I know, from bitter experience, that it will entail a protracted phone call to at least one 800 number and many minutes on hold, followed by lots of complicated instructions and physical maneuvering that I may or may not be able to accomplish. End result: I end up feeling incompetent and still don't have the thing working, and it stays leaned up against the wall where it is now, and I've wasted a couple of hours of my precious weekend.

* Taking my laptop to get it fixed (it's on the verge of a serious crash, I know it). Prior to doing this, however, I need to back up some things on it, because it's going to require a system restore and I want to make sure some important pictures and files are saved. Sound simple, I know, but when I try to back up, there's a glitch and it won't work, so again I end up spending precious time in an unsuccessful pursuit, and end up irritated and frustrated.

* Getting the paperwork together for the exercise bike that arrived damaged when delivered a couple of months ago (yes months!). The company that sold it has conveniently gone out of business, so the manufacturer will work with me but I need to actually find documents and communicate with them about the issue. They say they'll replace the parts, but I see then having to disassemble the thing and putting the new parts together. I can get help with this project, I know, but for some reason it just seems overwhelming right now and I keep avoiding it.

* Finishing the room that I painted in September. We put the treadmill and the new exercise bike (above), along with a TV and shelves with most of our movies in there. Seemed like a productive use of an extra bedroom. Just haven't had the oomph to get in there and get it finished!

* Working on painting Jessica's bedroom and getting it put back together. It's been torn apart in preparation for a long time, and I've been promising her for months, and even bought the paint a long time ago. Again, just haven't been able to get myself in there to actually do the darn work.

And then there are the ever-present even larger projects:

* Work on getting shutters for the downstairs windows, to replace the mini-blinds that have been there for almost 11 years and were, after all, "only temporary"
* Get the kitchen faucet repaired
* Get Jessica's bathroom fixed (the crummy, lifting-up linoleum replaced with tile, and the bathtub leak stopped)
* Get the nightmare that used to be a car-parking garage (that is now just a huge, embarrassing junk pile) cleaned out--again!
* Get the downstairs carpet and linoleum replaced with tile
* Get rid of a lot of "junk" (my definition, maybe not Jessica's) that we took
out of her old craft room when we converted it to our someday hopefully usable exercise room
* Do something about the ruined grass in the back yard--don't even know where to start there! (Courtesy of our canine friend Bella, the 150-plus pound English Mastiff who voids gallons of grass-killing urine every day.)

There are others--quite a few, in fact--but this list gives the idea, I think. I am a list-maker, and generally it makes me feel better to make lists of projects and then feel some sense of accomplishment as I cross off the finished ones. But I'm finding with this particular list, especially the "big projects" list, I just keep making the list. I don't seem to ever finish it, and that is definitely contributing to a different feeling--not a good one. It's reinforcing the negativity, i.e. "I'll never get this done," "I'm completely incompetent," "Why don't I ever finish any of this" etc. Confirms for me that the negativity is right, even though my head tells me to think differently.

Interestingly, I started writing this entry at about 7:00-something this morning, and it's now 10:45. I've done quite a few of the items on the top list, actually, and am still working on others. (Had to take a break to catch my breath.) Writing this down helped, though, in a funny way. I think in a way it makes me accountable to someone, even though I don't know who, if anyone, might be reading it. So when, and if, I ever do accomplish any of those bigger projects, I can maybe post the accomplishment on this blog and report on my progress.

So, now I'm committing myself, and posting. I'll report later on my progress, if any.


Tuesday, January 6, 2009

"BO"


I have posted a picture here of Tyler, from this Christmas, and was starting to feel bad that Jaden wasn't represented here too (by himself). After all, I don't want to play favorites, and certainly didn't want to neglect this little guy. I didn't get any good shots of him at Christmas, though. He wasn't feeling very good that day, and he doesn't want to be the star of my pictures these days, it seems.

This is one of my favorite pictures of him, taken in Utah in August of 2007. So he was a lot younger, then, but I think he still looks pretty much the same. I just love that crooked little smile--it just melts my heart! He's so full of mischief, but is SO cute about it that no one can get very upset with him--especially his mom, who often tells me how "stinkin' cute" he is, usually after she's described in detail his latest nefarious pursuit. Look at that face -- who could argue with her about the "stinkin' cute" part?


He reminds me so much of Erin when she was little--so quiet, reserved, and shy in public, but an absolute nutcase and clown at home. That's our Bo!

One might wonder how a boy named Jaden Christopher got the nickname "Bo." It happened when he was very little. His parents would always say "Jaden Bo Baden," and pretty quickly that just became Bo, or Bo-Bo. He told his mom just recently that he didn't want to be called Bo any more, just Jaden. But we're hoping he forgets that, because it's hard to give up Bo -- somehow it just seems to fit him. (Maybe it's the clown connection. Get it? Bo-Bo?)

I almost didn't post this picture, thinking I should put a current picture here. But then I thought, "Hey, this is my blog, so I'm allowed to post whatever I want!" And since I love this picture, I'll post this picture! My blog, my rules. Ya know, I think I could learn to like this power.
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Sunday, January 4, 2009

I Am A Child Of God



I was talking to a friend at church today about this song. She mentioned how she felt when she would hear it years ago, returning to church as a young adult after her family's long inactivity. She said, "it stung" to hear the words. I knew exactly what she meant before she even explained herself.

"I am a child of God, and He has sent me here, Has given me an earthly home, with parents kind and dear."

Her comment was, "You know, not everyone comes to homes with parents who are kind and dear." When you hear those words, and you are not one of the fortunate ones who had such parents, it does indeed sting. Hers were my thoughts exactly. She has come to the same place as I have, though, in her thinking. She described how she explains it to her children: "I have done so much better than my parents did with me, and I expect you to do much better than I have with your children and family." That's what I have always hoped, too.

And I've been fortunate enough to see that hope come to fruition. I now have two wonderful grandsons, and they have indeed been sent to "parents kind and dear." They are blessed in this regard, and I hope they are able to see and appreciate this good fortune of theirs as they grow older. I remind them all the time, as I find myself saying, "Aren't you lucky you have such a good Mom?" or "Isn't it nice that your Dad takes such good care of you?" I want them to be aware that they are indeed blessed to have such good parents.

And now when I hear "I Am A Child Of God," my initial thoughts are
not what they used to be. My first thought is not of myself, but of those boys, and what a blessing they are in my life. And how blessed they have been to have been sent to "parents kind and dear." Time does indeed heal, if not all, at least many wounds.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Mildred's Sunshine


I was my grandmother's first grandchild (gotta love those bangs!), and I was pretty much the apple of her eye. I never understood that, when I was young, and even after I had children of my own. My parents weren't the kind who cherished their children, and I'm not sure parents can even really do that, at least not the way grandparents can. Maybe some can, but mine certainly didn't, so couldn't model that for me. And although I'm sure she had not been like that with her own children, she sure did cherish me. My grandma was only 39 when I was born--I can't even imagine that (I was 54 when Tyler was born). Everything, absolutely everything, they tell you about how you're going to feel about your grandchildren is true--and then some. And to my great benefit, my grandmother felt it for me. It is another of the bonds I feel with her, this cherishing of grandchildren, that I know my mother never felt, was not even capable of feeling, apparently.

I've been thinking about my grandmother at this time of year, as I always do at New Years. New Year's Eve was her parents' wedding anniversary, and it was always a very meaningful time for her. As I think about her, what I remember most is how she felt about me, and what a unique relationship I had with her. No one else in my life came close to having the positive impact on me that she did. No one else loved me like she did, plain and simple. There were many ways in which her love was problematic, especially as I got older, but the important thing is this--I am sure that her open adoration of me when I was young is what saved me. Because of her, I knew there was someone, some one, to whom I was critically important. My parents were quite dysfunctional, as individuals and certainly as parents, and very absorbed by their own problems; they loved me, but only in their limited way. My only uncle, although I'm sure he loved me too, could be sarcastic, and was scary in some ways. Yes, my grandma was unique in my life, and I'm grateful to her. With the births of my own grandchildren Tyler and Jaden, I understand something else about her; I finally understand exactly how she felt about me. I pray that I can have the positive impact in their lives that she had in mine.

She frequently sang "You Are My Sunshine" to me; it was "our song." I knew for sure that I was indeed like the sun's shine to her. When I got older, I even felt guilty about how much more she loved me than my sister and my three cousins. I was her first, and I think I retained that unique place in her heart for the rest of her life. I can look at it as an adult and see how immature of her, in a way, it was that she couldn't open her heart to her other grandchildren to the same degree she did for me, and certainly how unfair to them that was. It was especially hurtful, I think, to my sister, because she didn't have parents who could buffer Grandma's obvious preference for me. But as a young child, as the little girl in this picture, all I could do was bask in the glow of her love. As I said, it saved me.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Happy 2009!

Another new year. It makes me wonder, as new years always do, what lies ahead for us this year. I think about my children and grandchildren, my friends, and myself. Erin and Jeff are getting their wonderful new house in Beaumont finally; that's certainly a good and exciting development. Tyler will be going to a new school, and surely he'll miss his wonderful teacher in Blythe, and all of his friends at school and church. But I know he'll thrive wherever he is; he just has that in him. Jaden will make new friends in his new neighborhood too, and actually he's young enough he may never even remember living in Blythe when he's older. Hopefully Jeff will get transferred so he won't have that impossible commute for too long. And Erin will LOVE her new home, I know, especially that fabulous kitchen! (I think I've been suffering from kitchen envy--see photo, you'll understand.)

They'll be closer to us by two hours, making it practical to visit for an afternoon or evening, or to babysit on occasion, etc., when they're only a half hour away. All that is good and exciting for sure!


I hope there is something good in store for Michael and Jessica as well. I don't know what those things might be, especially for Michael. I guess I should say I just hope that he gets what he wants, whatever that might be, and that he is happy. For Jessica, mostly I just hope for good health. That might be an overstatement; perhaps all I mean is that she might have "okay" health, without any major downward turns, as has seemed to be the general trend the last few years.

I think about being another year older myself, and that reminds me of how my grandmother used to talk so frequently about being older and closer to death. She would always say things like, "This is the last car I'll ever buy," or "I know I won't ever ________ again." We teased her mercilessly about this tendency of hers, but I have to admit I completely understand how she felt, now that I'm older myself, and feel quite repentent about how we used to pick on her. I think about these things all the time myself now. Not in a maudlin way, not with any particularly negative feeling. Just being more aware of it. I never thought about such things when I was 30, for instance; it never would have occurred to me. I find myself feeling kind of curious about how much time I do actually have left in this life. I sometimes wish I knew, although I know that probably wouldn't be a good thing. I know my grandma had no one to talk to about all of this, except for us, and we certainly weren't receptive, and definitely were not understanding. She didn't have any friends, for whatever reason, or any relatives who were contemporaries--just us. I don't know how I would manage without friends to talk to, and feel sorry for her, looking back, for how lonely she must have felt. So, Grandma, here's to you! This coming April 14th would have been your 100th birthday--I wish you were here so we could talk about this, now that I think I understand what you were thinking and feeling. We could have a good time comparing notes. No one would listen to you then, but you and I certainly could chew on this one now!