Tag Archives: Life

Cat Math

In one of my last posts I wrote about the death of Marvin (one of our outdoor cats), my plans to move his sister indoors and stop leaving food out for animals passing by. (And how Kenn and I somehow completely reversed our normal positions on the topic of cats.)

As of this writing, Nellie (Marvin’s sister and our only remaining outdoor cat) is still outdoors and is ignoring all of my attempts to get her to try the cushy life of an indoor kitty. We also have at least four cats coming by to partake of our food on a regular basis. (We’re going through so much more food, LOL.) I was surprised that the presence of Marvin and Stumpie was such a deterrent as they were both neutered males. (Nellie is spayed as well so she is not luring in new cats with her feminine wiles, er, pheremones.)

Proof that anything can be found on the internet.

Since we now have regular feline visitors to whom we have never been properly introduced, we decided to come up with our own names for them. These names get used when we are talking to them (from whatever distance they will allow) which is one of the first steps in helping them learn they can trust us. Here are our regular visitors (for now):

  • Tiger – Tiger is one of the cats cared for by our elderly neighbors and is the only one who’s name we actually know. Confusion arises because Tiger is our Nellie’s doppelganger. I’ll think I’m talking to Nellie and only realize that it’s Tiger when s/he freaks out because I’m getting so close. Or, I think I’m talking to Tiger only to realize that it’s Nellie. (Tiger and Nellie are both silver tabbies.)
  • Crow – Crow is a handsome black cat. (I love cats of all shapes, sizes, and colors but have an extra big soft spot for black cats.) Kenn announced that he would be calling the black cat Crow or Calypso depending on if it were male or female. Crow rarely gets closer to us than ten feet which would have made the sex determination difficult if he had been neutered. However, even from ten feet away – with the right angle and lighting – it was easy to determine that Crow is an unneutered male. However, if we can ever get him socialized, this situation will be rectified.
  • Bruiser – Bruiser is an unneutered brown tabby with white feet. Bruiser made it a point to square off with Stumpie on a regular basis so I was forever running him off. Now that he’s not stirring up trouble I have no problem with him coming over but I’m probably going to have to work extra hard to earn his trust.
  • Ghost – Ghost, appropriately enough, is a gray cat and by far the most skittish of our new visitors. I have only seen Ghost twice. Both sightings were only glimpses of a gray blur disappearing across the back yard after I apparently scared the crap out of him/her by walking across the deck to the car port.

So, somehow losing two cats has resulted in gaining four. Cat math is weird. Sigh. Lucky for them, I’m a complete sucker for animals in need.

When Potato Chips Equal Love

As y’all know from a previous post, I finally found someone who listened to me about my ongoing gallbladder issues; I just needed to have a few tests run to make sure there was nothing else going on that might mimic gallbladder symptoms. I’m pleased to announce that all of the tests are behind me and nothing mimicking gallbladder symptoms was found. Now to get the referral to a surgeon…

My last test was my every-five-year colonoscopy; this was my third one. For each colonoscopy, the prep has been different, but never fun. The day before the procedure you can only have liquids, including broth and gelatin. An all liquid diet is hard enough but I don’t like broth and you can’t have red, purple, or orange gelatin. (Those colors could look like blood during the procedure.) However, I don’t like lemon or lime which limits my gelatin choices even further. I settled on blue “mixed berry” gelatin and Kenn found some green watermelon flavored gelatin that I was willing to try. Much to my surprise, I preferred the watermelon over the berry. I even managed to choke down a small amount of broth. I try to be a good patient but I spent most of the day complaining that I just wanted some potato chips. I love, love, love potato chips and desperately needed something salty to balance the sweetness of the gelatin. However, I was good and did NOT have any chips.

The next day, when I was back in the truck after the procedure, Kenn pulled out his insulated lunch bag and presented me with a bottle of soda and an individual serving-size bag of potato chips. Y’all, I almost cried with happiness. I also told Kenn that it’s one of the most romantic things he’s ever done for me. He found that statement amusing, but I was completely serious. It shows that he listens to me and went out of his way to do something to make me happy after a procedure he knew I was nervous about. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

Side note, if you’re over 45 and haven’t had a colonoscopy, please get on the phone and schedule one ASAP. There is no history of colon cancer in my family, yet precancerous polyps were found in my first colonoscopy (which is why I have to have one every five years). If I hadn’t had a colonoscopy as recommended, within the next several years, I would have developed colon cancer. A colonoscopy won’t be at the top of anyone’s list of Fun Things To Do, but, as the saying goes, it’s better than the alternative.

Now, what is the most romantic thing someone has done for you?

So, What Exactly Do You Do?

I’ve been working at my part-time job for almost a year now and the most-oft asked question I get is “So, what exactly do you do?” The duties of my pre-retirement job were much easier to describe; even though I worked several different jobs during my career, they could all be lumped under the heading of IT Customer Support. (Except for the miserable 3.5 years I spent in Contracting.) The duties of my current job can’t be as easily defined.

I work at an agricultural research center as a Biological Science Aid. My boss is an entomologist so everything we do ultimately revolves around insects even though it may not appear to on the surface. There are two, soon to be three, full-time lab technicians above me. My job is to support everyone however I can with whatever needs to be done. I rarely know from day-to-day what I will be doing and even if I do, it may change at any time. I generally work two days a week but have the flexibility to work more if necessary. Earlier this year there were several weeks I worked three days per week because all of the things had to be done at the same time and even with four of us working, we were scrambling to get everything done.

I’ve spent the last two weeks fertilizing peach trees which is a much more time-consuming process than you might think. The timing was good though; after a long dry spell we’ve had several days of rain so the fertilizer got rained in so that it can do its job. One of the next things I will need to do will be to hunt down some pruning shears and trim the suckers (the shoots growing from the roots or base of the tree) off the same trees I just fertilized. This will also be a time-consuming process, but hey, that’s what I’m there for and – I get paid!

All dressed for work

The next couple of months will be rough. I no longer deal well with the oppressive heat and humidity of the South so the summer is hard. At least this year our summer has been mild, relatively speaking. Still, 82℉ with 80% plus humidity is pretty miserable. Since I’m fair-skinned, the heat is made a little worse by the fact that I am dressed in long pants, long-sleeves, and a big sun hat to protect my skin. However, one of the best things about my job is how laid back it is. Everyone makes sure to tell me to take as many breaks as I need to in order to stay cool – and one of them is always encouraging me to take the time to just relax and enjoy the beauty surrounding us. Yes, staying cool is important but this relaxed attitude is new to me; I rarely got to take breaks at my old jobs. Some days I was doing good just to get to go to the bathroom.🙄 So, you know what I do? I take breaks when I’m hot and occasionally I putter around in my utility vehicle and enjoy the scenery and take photos. Several of my Wordless Wednesday photos have been taken on the agricultural center.

The next time I work, I’ll probably be helping a coworker with a pulley system that will be used to raise potted pecan saplings to various heights in a pecan grove. (Don’t ask me why. I have no idea.) I’ll also need to water the plants in the greenhouse. After that, I’ll do whatever needs to be done starting with pruning the suckers I mentioned earlier. Later this year I’ll be collecting and counting weevils as I mentioned in a previous post. Along the way, there is no telling what else will be needed. So, what exactly do I do? Whatever needs to be done!

So, what exactly do you do?

The Great Toilet Conundrum

A couple of years ago we updated our master bathroom which, among other things, included replacing the hand-painted toilet and sink. (The original owners had hand painted flowers on the cabinet doors and carried the theme onto the sink and toilet.) While I appreciated the effort and love that had gone into the painting, the overall effect just screamed “SEVENTIES!” So, we put the old sink and toilet in the basement to deal with later, as one does. By the time later actually rolled around, we had added a second toilet to the collection as we had replaced the plastic toilet in our travel trailer with a ceramic one.

The day eventually rolled around when Kenn asked The Question: “What should I do with those old toilets? Sit them out by the road?” My answer was a resounding NO! I refuse to be those people that have a toilet (or in this case, two toilets) sitting in their yard. Admittedly, at our last house, someone might have picked them up but I still wouldn’t have put toilets in the yard. Our current neighborhood is a little nicer and in all the years we’ve lived here, I haven’t seen a single free-range toilet in search of a new home. Toilets also seem to fall under the definition of “household debris” that the city won’t pick up. So, we left the toilets in the basement to ignore a while longer.

Kenn is the one who ultimately came up with the solution to our excess toilet situation: Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore. He had helped his brother find a “gently used” replacement sink for his office at a ReStore so, hey, maybe they would take our old bathroom fixtures. We loaded up the truck and drove to our local ReStore where there were a few raised eyebrows at the flowers, but they took everything. Whoo hoo! (Thank you Habitat for Humanity!)

Fast forward to this year when we are updating our guest bath. One of the first things to go was the hideous green toilet with its even more hideous wooden toilet seat.🤢 (At least the green tub/shower unit can be hidden behind the shower curtains.)

Goodbye and good riddance

One weekend we went full Beverly Hillbillies, loaded the toilet in the bed of the truck, and headed out to run errands. The toilet accompanied us to the recycle center, Goodwill, the grocery store, and finally to the ReStore where we learned that even “gently used” has its limits. The green toilet was so bad that the good folks at the ReStore refused to take it!😂 So, we took ourselves out to a late lunch – still with a toilet in the truck bed – then went home to regroup.

My suggestion for dealing with the green monster was to take a sledge hammer to it and dump the pieces in the city trashcan for pickup. (The old “there’s more than one way to skin a cat” method.) Once again, it was Kenn to the rescue. We both have part-time jobs at a local agricultural center which happens to have a convenient dumpster. The next time I worked, I drove straight to the dumpster and called Kenn who came and helped me offload the toilet into the (also green) dumpster. Less than an hour later, the dumpster was emptied and the Great Green Toilet Saga was concluded. Sweet, sweet success!

So, tell me dear readers, how would you dispose of a toilet?

The Earworms from Hell

Wow. It’s been over a month since my last regular post.😲 I knew I had been busy but didn’t realize I had been that busy. Side note: I have also learned that working at an agricultural center in Spring means that all of the things have to be done at once. Walking eleven miles over the course of two days kind of brought home how much we were doing. However, I digress.

Merriam Webster defines an earworm as “as song or melody that keeps repeating in one’s mind.” In my opinion, some songs are more earworm material than others. I once had Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk stuck in my head for six days; to make it worse, I don’t even know all the lyrics.🤷‍♀️Kid’s songs are perfect earworm material; they’re short and catchy with simple, repetitive lyrics. (Don’t even get me started on the lyrics that make absolutely no sense. “Here we go looby loo, here we go looby light.” What does that even mean? And why is it just on Saturday night? Never mind. I don’t really want to know.)

I was reminded of the earworm-ness of children’s songs last week when we spent a few days helping out with our grandkids while our daughter-in-law recovered from surgery. The twins just turned one and are big fans of Ms. Rachel. Ms. Rachel and her Songs for Littles is currently the hot show for children four and younger. (When my boys were young, it was Barney & Friends.) Over the course of our visit we watched a few hours of Ms. Rachel. Sadly, Ms. Rachel came home with us in the form of persistent, annoying earworms. I’ll share my “favorites” below. (I’m using “favorite” sarcastically here.) Play at your own risk.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EeGyv2BtpB0
The Banana Song is the first song in this hour long video.

Trust me, having “Peel bananas, peel, peel bananas” on repeat in your head is enough to have you searching for something, anything to take its place. I was relieved to get in the truck to go home from work, turn on the radio, and hear Walk The Moon’s Shut Up and Dance. Ahhhhh. Sweet relief and a replacement for the Banana Song… at least temporarily.

What are your favorite and least favorite earworms? Is there even such a thing as a favorite earworm?

Excuse me, my faux pas are showing

definition from dictionary.com

I have recently discovered that I have committed a couple of wedding-related faux pas. However, I am also of the opinion that the behaviors deemed terrible by some are merely violations of unwritten rules, which begs the questions: who decides which unwritten rules are important and if the rules are unwritten, how is everyone supposed to be aware of them?

Two of the unwritten rules I grew up with are:

  • You shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day. I think this one is finally dying a quiet death, but seriously? Who even decided this? Why did everyone else go along with it? Disclaimer: I never wear white. I am not accident prone or messy – until I wear white. Once I don white, something will happen to that article of clothing requiring it to be disposed of. But, if I do decide to wear white again, I will make sure it’s after Labor Day just to be annoying.
  • Redheads shouldn’t wear red. I heard this one all the time and always thought it was stupid. When I asked why, I was told “It will clash with your hair.” What? Why is it okay for blondes to wear yellow and brunettes to wear black and brown? I have always blown this one off and, I look fabulous in red. Just sayin’.

So, what are my wedding-related faux pas? No, it wasn’t the ultimate sin of wearing white to a wedding because that’s the sort of thing that destroys friendships and breaks up families. (Why do weddings come with so much drama?) My mistakes deal with the color of the dresses that I chose. At one point, black was not to be worn to a wedding because of it’s association with death and funerals. Apparently, it’s now acceptable – at least in some circles.🙄 I have no idea whether or not it was deemed acceptable when our oldest son and daughter-in-law married. However, I wanted something special to wear in my role as the mother of the groom and was excited to find a beautiful black dress with gold embroidery; I loved it and felt beautiful in it. Some would believe that by wearing black to the wedding, I was making a dig at my daughter-in-law and expressing my dislike of her. Some would need to get a life. I adore my daughter-in-law and always have. There was no ulterior motive to my choice other than that feeling of “this is the one” when wearing that dress.

My black faux pas wedding dress circa 2008

My most recent wedding faux pas was last October. Did you know you’re not “supposed” to wear a red dress to a wedding? Neither did I.🙄🙄 The dress code for the wedding was “cocktail attire” which meant a shopping trip since Kenn needed a new suit and I own exactly two dresses, neither of which qualify as cocktail attire. I visited several stores with no luck and then… I found it. The perfect dress. I even bought it without trying it on since the store dressing rooms were still closed due to COVID. Once I got home and tried it on, I knew that I had found my dress and proceeded to wear it to the wedding. No one passed out,but who knows? They may have been gossiping about me behind my back.🤷‍♀️(It was also a Halloween wedding and the bride wore a white dress with a black veil and the decorations included skeletons and sugar skulls so I think my red dress fit right in.)

I still think I look fabulous in red.

Oh, why aren’t you supposed to wear red to a wedding? Because red is the color of harlots. (Who even uses the word harlot these days?) And, apparently in some cultures, wearing red to a wedding means you had sex with the groom. (Ew!) I would have lived the rest of my life without knowing these “rules” without reading some wedding related posts on Reddit.

What are your least favorite so-called rules?

Well, Darn

Well, it has taken almost three years, but Kenn and I finally contracted COVID. As with many couples, Kenn and I are opposites in many ways. Our recent illnesses have brought some of those differences to the fore. Most notably, when I’m sick, I want to be left alone – just check on me every now and then to make sure I’m still breathing. Kenn, however, wants to be babied.

My symptoms began on New Year’s Eve and I wound up in the doctor’s office on January 2nd with a severe ear infection. Since January 2nd was a federal holiday, Kenn didn’t work and was available to take me to the doctor. However, he was back at work on Tuesday and Wednesday leaving me to my own devices. I stayed on the couch (with a variety of felines) with an assortment of tissues, cough drops, and cold medications scattered in strategic locations throughout the house. Kenn’s symptoms began shortly after he got home on Wednesday evening. He decided to test Thursday and… duhn, duhn, duhn

Yep, it’s positive

We didn’t even have to wait the whole fifteen minutes; it was showing positive within about 3 minutes. (Had this been my test, Kenn would have said that I was just being competitive.) Friday morning he called the doctor who, in turn, called in prescriptions for cough medicine and an anti-viral. Cue the difficult part of this process – picking up the medications. I was now on Day 6 of my illness which meant I no longer needed to quarantine and while I was feeling better, I was still weak/washed out but I pulled on my big girl panties and made the drive to the pharmacy. (Yay for small towns, short distances, and drive-thru pharmacies!) I did not burst into tears when I was informed that they only had the cough syrup; the anti-viral was out of stock and they didn’t know when they would get more. I made it back home where Kenn made a call, found the anti-viral at another pharmacy, and made the arrangements to have the prescription transferred. Afterwards, he went to bed for a well-deserved nap.

An hour or so later, I went to check on Kenn. He was awake and feeling pitiful. He was glad I had come to check on him because he needed to cuddle. I am not cuddle-averse, especially when I’m already sick and not going to be exposed by said cuddling. (Long story.) I cuddled Kenn until it was almost time for me to go pick up his second prescription. He was feeling miserable so I hoped to encourage him by telling him that, since his illness was progressing much as mine had, he would probably be feeling better by the next day. His response? “I’m not going to survive that long.” Siiiggghhh.

Now, Kenn has said on more than one occasion that I’m not very sympathetic – and he’s right. I’m great with empathy; sympathy not so much. At this point, my already limited sympathy was running low. “Are you serious? You should have said something earlier so I could take out an insurance policy on you. And, you do realize that I survived on my own while you went to work and I’m here babying you and you’re not going to survive? I’m going to go get your medication. I hope you’re still alive when I get back.” Spoiler: he was. He was also contrite and apologized for “irritating” me; he said he was just kidding around. Whatever. I’ve been around him long enough to know that the drama gene is strong in his family and it’s always strongest with Kenn when he’s sick so I take his “just kidding” with a grain of salt.

Personality differences aside, I’m thankful that our COVID experience has been easy. The absolute worst part for both of us has been the lack of energy that we’ve experienced. It has now been ten days since my symptoms started and today is the first day I’ve been able to be up and around for more than a few minutes without needing to sit down and rest. Also, I’m a night owl so it’s not unusual for me to be up until midnight; while I’ve had COVID, I haven’t been able to stay awake past 10pm. My plan is to go into work tomorrow. Weevil counting isn’t strenuous and if I don’t have the energy to stay all day, I won’t. Even more importantly, I’m planning to cook supper tonight. I haven’t cooked in over a week because standing in the kitchen for 30 minutes to an hour has been a no-go. Wish me luck! (Edited to add, I survived both cooking dinner and my first day back at work!)

Are you a good patient when you’re sick?

Huh. When did that happen?

I have had body image issues for as long as I can remember. I think it came to a head in high school when I started getting “teased” about being pudgy. Looking back, I know that weighing 159 pounds at 5’11” tall really isn’t pudgy; it’s well within the normal weight range for my height. I worked hard and got my weight down to 135 pounds and began what became a lifelong habit of counting calories.

By the time I went to college, I think I was dangerously close to developing an eating disorder. I decided I needed to lose even more weight. My goal was to get down to 120 pounds. My body decided that was a no-go. I started working on losing weight and I got so sick. There are a couple of weeks that I don’t remember. I was somehow still going to at least some of my classes, but I’m not sure how. Once I got better I decided to let my weight stay where it was.

The next hurdle was pregnancy. I worried about how I would deal with the weight gain that goes along with pregnancy should I decide to have kids. I honestly wasn’t sure that I would be able to let myself gain weight. However, when I actually got pregnant at 24, my body once again took control. At that point in my life I was skipping meals or just eating something like a pack of crackers. Once I got pregnant, I had to eat every two hours or my stomach would be growling loud enough for others to hear. My body basically forced me to take in the nutrients that both my baby and I needed. I gained a total of 28 pounds during my pregnancy and was able to lose it all within 6 months after giving birth. The fact that I gained weight and successfully lost it seemed to change something in me. So much so that with my second pregnancy, I actually gained 40 pounds; I decided that if I was going to gain weight anyway, I may as well enjoy the process. I ate a lot of peanut M&Ms, LOL. However, I was once again able to lose all of the weight within 6 months. I also did not throat punch the coworker who commented about me “still carrying all of that baby weight” when I returned to work after my maternity leave. At that point, I only had 15 pounds left to lose. Sigh.🙄

Then, along comes hypothyroidism. Even though I’m on medication to treat my hypothyroidism, it still makes it easier for me to gain weight and harder to lose it. Slowly, over an extended period, my weight crept back up to high school levels and I worked to lose 15 pounds. This left my final weight higher than it was for so many years, but I was okay with that. The cycle repeated again a few years later. I’ve been struggling to lose weight and have been frustrated with myself. However, once I started my part-time job, I’ve slowly begun to take the weight off. (Yay for being more active!)

So, why have I made this post with TMI about my weight? Well, now that I’m 60, aging and such have been on my mind. During the course of my musings I had an unexpected realization. For the first time in my life, I’m comfortable with the body that I have – cellulite, aging skin, and all. I’m not exactly sure when this acceptance occurred, but I’m glad it did. Always striving for some impossible level of perfection is exhausting.

I guess the change has been coming on for a few years. Prior to retirement, I wouldn’t leave the house without at least some level of makeup. I loosened up a little in the months after retirement… and then COVID hit and no one was going anywhere. Makeup kind of went out the window and pretty much stayed there. I now regularly leave the house with no makeup or minimum makeup. As a matter of fact, my coworkers don’t even know what I look like with makeup. Why put on makeup just to sweat it off?

Minimal makeup so I could try out my new lipstick

I’ve been a long time reaching this level of comfort with myself, but I’m glad I finally got here. How about you? Are you comfortable with yourself?

Large Headed Ladies

I think the time has come for a new song in the vein of Queen’s classic, Fat Bottomed Girls. The new song should be titled Large Headed Ladies and I volunteer to star in the music video. I look in the mirror and I see a normal, average human being. However, looks can be deceiving and I’m apparently a living chibi or Funko Pop. (Both are characters with large heads.) I generally don’t wear hats for the simple reason that most don’t fit. One size fits all? Ha! Not hardly. Between a large head and extremely thick hair, most “one size” hats just perch precariously on top of my head.

During our visit to Wall Drug, we found a western wear store that sold hats that came in (gasp!) actual sizes. Since that day, I have been the proud owner of a genuine Stetson cowboy hat.

Yee haw!

When I started my part-time job, I needed a sun hat. It took two attempts to find the one pictured in the linked post. I bought the first hat based on a Facebook ad with reviews which mentioned the hat fitting larger heads. Ha! It was so small I gave it to my nine year old grandson. Fortunately, the next hat was a success. Not only does it fit, but the vivid orange makes me easy to find when I’m working out in the orchards.

The most recent hurdle has been trying to find a bicycle helmet. Several months ago, Kenn purchased collapsible bikes for us to take with us when we camp. Sadly, we have yet to use them. We decided a few weeks ago to remedy that situation but that meant finding helmets. Of course it was a cinch for Kenn but for me, not so much. I carefully measured my head and made sure to purchase an appropriately sized helmet. Guess what? It didn’t fit. 🤦‍♀️ So, it was back to the drawing board. Thank goodness for LtMacDaddy and his amazing Amazon review. I purchased the same helmet and he is correct; the helmet also fits my fat head!

Success!

It’s a shame that adults don’t get to wear sparkly multi-colored helmets like kids do. (I’d wear a unicorn helmet in a heartbeat.) While the red is nice, it’s boring. I may apply a coat of my Lisa Frank nail polish to give it a little sparkle. Another downside to owning a red and black helmet as a resident of the state of Georgia is that it will be assumed to have been chosen in support of the University of Georgia Bulldogs. Spoiler alert: it was not and I am not a Bulldogs (or any other team) fan.

So, are you a member of the Large Head Club? If not, what is it like to be able to purchase hats off the rack (so to speak)?

Saying Goodbye

I haven’t posted for the past couple of weeks because honestly, the past couple of weeks have sucked. We lost two family members. One had been in hospice care for several weeks so it was only a matter of time. The other was more traumatic; you never expect to say goodbye to someone younger.

Image courtesy of DepositPhotos.com

Kenn’s family is quite different from mine. I grew up next door to my maternal grandmother who was one of eight kids. Aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, and cousins galore were a big part of my life. The first time Kenn mentioned cousins, I was shocked. I had known him for years and he had never mentioned them before. I didn’t even know that his mom had three sisters.

Two of Kenn’s aunts lived up north and I never met them. I didn’t meet the remaining sister until after the death of Kenn’s father. The family was gathered at Kenn’s parents’ apartment and his aunt and uncle came to offer their condolences and Kenn introduced me. His aunt said “Oh Linda, it’s so nice to meet you. We’re so glad to have you in our family.” And she meant it. Y’all, I almost cried. At this point, I had been a part of Kenn’s family for nine years and no one had ever welcomed me. My in-laws didn’t like me and I spent my time walking on eggshells whenever I had to be around them. The fact that this woman I had never met before saw me as worthy of love and acceptance blew my mind. I hid those words in my heart for years.

I longed to tell Aunt Ellen how much her words meant to me but was hesitant to do so. I firmly believed that if I thanked her and it got back to my mother-in-law, it would just give her something else to hold against me. (I was already guilty of the heinous crimes of hanging pictures too high on our walls and having the wrong people in the background of the photos I took.🙄) My mother-in-law passed away five years ago so, when we learned that Aunt Ellen had cancer and had been placed in hospice care, I knew time was running out. With Chick-Fil-A in hand, we went and had a lovely visit. I told her how much her words meant to me and she said “I was just being sincere.” I told her that I knew she was and that made it even more special. That was the last time we saw her. It was a good day when she was still herself. Her condition deteriorated quickly over the next few weeks and she left this world on August 18th.

The second loss was my oldest niece. Ami was only 48. Not only was she my niece, but since she was only eleven years younger than me, in many ways she was like a younger sister. We shared a love of cats, books, reading, writing, color, and all things sparkly. We had actually grown closer over the last few years. When my Daddy’s health began failing in late 2015 it was hard on both of us. We began sharing memes (usually animal related) on Facebook to keep our spirits up. Six years later, we’re still doing it. At least we were. Ami had a severe peanut allergy and over the years she’s had a to make a few trips to the ER. All of those trips have ended with her returning home – except the last one. This last hospitalization resulted in her being placed on a ventilator and then an ECMO (heart/lung machine) before her wife made the difficult decision to end life support. When we got to the hospital on August 16th, Ami was non-responsive. They say that the hearing is the last thing to go so I hope that she knew we were there. But, I know that she knew that we loved her. I had hoped to visit she and her wife later this year and maybe even visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Orlando together. (Ami had been, I hadn’t.) Now, that will never happen. I began missing her regular memes while she was hospitalized and now I have to content myself with seeing the ones from the past when they show up in my Facebook memories.

So, dear readers, hug your loved ones while you have them and tell them all of the things you need to say for you never know when that opportunity may slip away. (I promise, my next post won’t be so gloomy.)