Do You Fear Weird Too?

I consider myself pretty weird.  Never really doing the normal things you would expect a child, never-the-less an adult, to do.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons my dad’s nickname for me was Dumb Shit.  (Remember back a few posts – this was not a bad thing, but a very loving way of telling me I did something stupid.  He ALWAYS said it with love and laughter.)

As a child, my fear was moths.  There was a very valid reason for this.  I have naturally thick, curly hair (thank you also to Dad) and we loved to play under the yard light at night.  We had Fire Flies, bats, and of course Miller moths.

miller mothsThe Fireflies needed to run from us.  We needed to run from bats dive-bombing all the bugs around the light.  The moths were different.  They are attracted to the light, yes, but they are also attracted to heat.  What is better warmth than a bunch of farm kids at play?  So the buggers would smack right into us – faces, hands, arms, but the worst was hair.

Straight hair kids never had any worries.  The monsters would simply bounce right off them, not so for us curly locks.  They would dive down and then get tangled up in the curls.  The worst part was trying to get them out.  Do you know what it sounds like when you bite down on a semi-stale piece of toast?  That yummy crunching sound is exactly like the sound of trying to get a moth out of your curly hair – YUCK!

squashing mothsThere was not only the fluttering in your fingers of it trying desperately to escape, but the crunching sounds as you hold it too tight then try to rip it out.  This usually included taking several strands of hair with it.

I don’t mind normal things like spiders or snakes as long as I see them first.  Spiders in our house and I have an agreement:  You stay on the ceiling, and you are safe.  Come down to my level, and you die.  We have a skylight where they usually go for the winter because all the heat is up there.  However, it never fails that sometime within those colder months someone gets stupid and decides to venture down to my level…too bad, so sad, you die!

squishing spider

We have three main snakes we need to know about here in Colorado:

  • The Rattler, (mega fear – not a weird one) which everyone knows is someone you do NOT want to meet.

rattle snake

  • The Bull Snake, which I love because they keep the Rattlers off our property. (You always want to check our snakes – tail first – the first, best way to tell which you have in front of you.)

bull snake

  • Then there is the beautiful, and harmless to humans, Garder Snake. Some people call it the Gardener snake since you will usually find in while gardening.  This is a bug-a-holic, and we love it.  They usually don’t get more than about a foot long.  Roughly the size of a quarter around, and will be really stupid on occasion and try to swallow a toad that is three times bigger than its head.  We helped one to spit it out – idiot.

garder snake

Lately, I have taken up the stranger fear of survival.  I am not a Prepper, (although I wish I were) just a small farmer that likes to grow and save our own foods.  My family and I were watching Halloween movies over last weekend, and one that came up out of our stash was:

The Stand by Stephen King.


I started to remember that the first time I heard of this book I had to have it. I was just becoming a big fan of Mr. King and was trying to purchase every book he created. Well, I got the book alright. I started to read it and got sucked into it. Yes, I believe that a person’s imagination can be much stronger than any movie. Well, my imagination went nuts when I discovered that all the things in this book were to take place starting 1985. It was only 1978 when I started reading it. I got less than halfway through and had to put it down. I did not pick it up to finish it until after 1985 had passed. Now, how silly was that? I guess it just goes to prove what a great writer I find him to be. He sucked me right into his game at the best time – KUDOS Mr. King.

(Book – even better than the movie, I think.)

I consider that quite an accomplishment for any author that can get me to read their fiction or fantasy novel.  Being more of a how-to or ways to improve my body, mind, skills, or soul kind of reader; there are only a couple of the “FF” types of books that I have read:

      • Stephen King
      • JK Rowling (yep, I am a Harry Potter Head – so is my cousin of the same age – haha.)

    (This is the full series of books.  My set is in a cute looking trunk box.  Yes, I still (at 58) love reading them.)

    • When I was much younger I did love the Nancy Drew Books

(This is only a 4-book set, but you get the idea.)

  • I loved the Child Craft set. They were not really fantasy or fiction but they did get the childhood imagination flowing. I still remember that they had a dark gray hardcover to them.  There were fifteen total books in the set.  They were filled with anything you ever wanted to know as a kid.  I don’t know when they stopped making them, but I wish they were back now for my grandson to enjoy.  I found this set for sale on eBay, not exactly the same, and a bit out of my price range- boo hoo.

old childcraft books

As I said earlier, I have developed an odd fear regarding survival.  It could be because my sister and I are hooked on watching the Walking Dead .  We don’t watch for the zombies (even though the special effects are outstanding), we watch for the human nature part of it.  If you have seen it, you understand.  If you have not seen it, you may want to give it a shot – unless you have an odd fear of zombies, then don’t.

So today’s post is shared to celebrate our weird fears.  May they keep our hearts pumping, and our skin jumping.

OH and…

Happy halloween

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How Do You Find Happiness?

You can look till you are blue in the face and you will not find it – you have to choose to make it!

I can say this because this is what I do, I choose to be happy.  I will gladly share with you examples of my on-going work of attitude adjustment.

I had to have half my left index finger amputated just one month after our house fire took everything (including my 4-year old grandson, but that’s for another time.).  I will admit when the Doctor first announced this I was shocked.  Started crying hysterically.  Thank goodness my younger sister was with me so she could get me back to reality.

I was expecting the Doctor to tell me I would need pins or something, but I never thought of lopping it off.  Well, after the initial shock subsided, I planted my feet firmly on the ground and started to think about the things that I would have to change to accommodate this circumstance.  I am a yarnie and crafter by nature.  If you know anything about knitting and crochet, you know the yarn is held by your fingers.  As I am a right-hander, and as I was taught to carry the yarn in my left hand – the major player was now going to be absent forever.  Now, this was MY first thought.

My sister, on the other hand, looked me straight in the eye and said:

“How are you going to pick your nose now?”

That poor Doctor!  He left the room with a woman shocked and hysterical over the news he had just delivered, and now walked into a room with a couple of dizzy broads laughing so hard tears were all over the place.  Then my sister states:

Where’s the bathroom, I have to pee?” and bolted out.

There are just some moments in life that you just do not think to take a picture at the second.  This was one of them.  This poor young Doctor was beside himself, and it was obvious that he had no clue what to say.

The amputation was done in June 2014 and went off without a hitch.  It took several weeks to get through recovery and therapy.  During the process of this, the Doctor noticed I was having difficulty raising my right arm.  He ordered x-rays and found that there was no ball left in my socket (let me know when you stop laughing.  It’s ok because I still get teased by family and friends on this one – no ball in my socket-  haha!).

He proceeded to order more x-rays and tests which told us all that I have osteoarthritis (arthritis in my joints – oh lucky me!).  To shorten this up a bit, I went on to have six major surgeries within 12 months.  I was also handling all of the fire cleanup, remodeling, insurance, investigators, etc., etc., etc.

I consider myself extremely lucky to have had some fantastic doctors with great funny bones.  My first (the guy that took ½ my finger) also did my shoulders.  Those of you that have been lucky enough not to have it done, you end up with your arm in a sling for about three months.  It just so happens that Halloween fell in the midst of all these surgeries, and the sling provided a perfect hiding spot!

I had to purchase all new things for our home – this included holiday decorations.  The first was to be for Halloween.  Then it hit me – skeletons.  I also purchased a package of those rubber tips you put on the end of your fingers to help turn pages of paper.  My sister had to help me from here.  She cut a small slit in the tip of one of the rubber tips.  Then cut off the little finger from the skeleton.  Shoved the fake bone through the slit and glued it to keep it in place.  Then she painted the rubber a skin tone which left the white bone sticking out of it.  It fit perfectly onto my new Ms. Stubly half finger

rubber finger tips

We’re off to see my doctor, the wonderful doctor of osteo (yes, you have to sing this to the tune of the Wonderful Wizard of Oz).  As with any doctor office, the nurse assisted us into the room first.  She had not seen our Halloween surprise because it was hidden in my sling.  My doctor came in, set my file on the counter, and was looking at it as he asked so naively:

How are things going?”

“Fine,” I said, “But I have a few concerns about my finger, should it look like this?” I said holding back on all my laughter.

“It does make it easier for me to knit now.” 

It took all my sister, and I had to stop giggling until he turned around and saw my Ms. Stubly with the fake bone sticking out from the end.  He burst out laughing at us – now that’s a doctor!  Then he went out and told the nurse, who told a couple of others, and before long we had several people in the room.  It was all great fun.

(The flesh paint has all faded off, but you get the idea.)

When things calmed a bit, we then noticed his attire for the day – plaids and stripes?  My sister very nicely asked him if his wife knew he left the house looking like this today?  Once again, we could not stop laughing.  I swear, from that visit on he made sure his wife helped him pick out his clothes – at least on the days he knew we were scheduled to visit.

This is a small part of how I have taught myself to create my own happiness.  I have many more stories to share, so I hope you will tag along and have some fun with me!

(FYI: My Doctor told my sister on our last visit that he was going to miss us – haha, another fly sucked into our web of humor – hurray!)

spider n fly

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My last post got me thinking about my parents a lot.  They supported us in so many ways, especially in ways that we never even knew.  The last bit of my last blog talked about why I do not do major alcohol.  This was formed by my parents and a well-played evening on their part.

When I turned eighteen years old, it was the legal drinking age in Wisconsin.  They have since upped the age which, after you read this story, you may understand why.

My folks owned a little place called The Wagon Tongue Café back then.  Half of it was a little restaurant by day.  The other half that did not open until afternoon was the bar.  I only had to go to school half days during my Senior year, so the other half of the day was spent waitressing and cleaning up when closed.  I want you all to remember something I hold to be very profound.


No matter where I have traveled those jobs, along with bartending, have gotten me through the hardest of times.  They are excellent fall back jobs.  I have done some fast food joints to get by or earn extra money.  I never have, and never will feel that they are jobs that are “beneath me” no matter what.  I firmly believe that it would be, to all middle teen to early twenty people, a great service in their life.

On my 18th birthday through my folks, their establishments, and the people connections, they allowed me to create; I just knew I was going to have a great birthday.  This was, after all, a mile marker – number eighteen!

keep calm 18 pic

I had no clue that my loving parents had already spoken to every other bar owner in town warning them of my upcoming celebration.  Yes, spoken to as in told them exactly how to handle me when I stopped in.  They had it all planned out way before I even had a chance to think about it.

The glorious day finally came.  I had to wait tables that morning, then got cleaned up and ready to go out on the town by around 4:00 p.m., everyone was in our bar waiting for me.  Then came my instructions from mom and dad:

“You do not have to pay for a single drink, however; you have to drink what is put in front of you before moving on to the next one or place.”

enjoy your booze

I DON’T HAVE TO PAY FOR MY DRINKS!  That was the only part I initially heard.  Dad started me off with my first shot – blackberry brandy.  Not too bad, this is gonna be fun I thought.

My party group proceeded to lead me from bar to bar, meeting all the owners, shaking hands, laughing and drinking whatever was put in front of me.  I thought I was doing pretty good until about the fourth establishment.  Someone bought me a thing called Tooties Roll.  It did taste exactly like the candy.  I don’t remember all the details after that.  I walked into a parking meter and said: “Excuse me.”  I thought it was a person.  I remember waiving at some friends driving by. Apparently, they had to stop because I was waiving at them from out in the street.

I remember getting back to my parent’s bar, and dad served me a shot called A Flaming Angel.  He mixed it up and set it on fire – I had NEVER seen such a thing before.  He told me to drink it by downing it really fast, as I lean back it will put out the flame.  Well, cool, young, very wasted me just grabbed that shot glass, flung it up to my mouth, and as I threw back my head to down the shot I just kept right on falling backward.  I did the shot perfectly (except for falling flat on the floor on my back) and began laughing.  The next part is hazy.

I was told by numerous participants, that this is what happened:

  1. I stopped laughing.
  2. I turned completely white as a sheet.
  3. I rushed up and ran to the bathroom (apparently someone was occupying it, but that did not stop me – I just told them to move quickly.).
  4. I proceeded to throw up (at least I hit the toilet – I think?).

I spent the next three days in my bed or throwing up.  Since that glorious evening, I think I have maybe taken two shots of peppermint as an after-dinner drink on two separate occasions.  When I get strong alcohol up to my nose, I get a knee-jerk reaction to throw up again.

MY PARENTS WERE BRILLIANT!  They knew way back then how to stop me from ever possibly becoming an alcoholic, and it worked.  I hope you do not think they were bad parents for doing this to me; I don’t.  I have known too many friends that would sneak drinks in fear of getting caught.  Later in life, I saw some of them, and it was not good.  I have learned this lesson from all that:

Be upfront, open, and honest whenever possible, and hope that it will help in the long run.

guardian angel

(This pic hung over my bed as a child – I guess they knew back then it would take more than just a Guardian Angel to keep me out of trouble – LOL.)

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It’s out there.  You cannot see it.  You cannot taste it.  You cannot touch it.  But you can feel it and you know it’s there….


I get both excited and scared at the same time.  If I did not have custody of my grandson, it might not feel so extreme?  Then again, maybe it would.  I am a crafter by passion, and I work on my crafts all year long.  With that said, I still get a “major stress on” every year about this time.

  • The kids are back in school.
  • The stores have out the Halloween decorations. (Some are also doing Christmas already-grrr.)
  • The days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer.
  • The full course of fruits and veggies are almost done with our mega processing.
  • Pull all that together with the impending tasks of holiday stuff, and you can go crazy.

So, how do I handle all of this mess – laughter!  As much of it as I can muster!

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I try to remember the better holiday times of my life.  Most were from when I was very young, but some (the better ones I think) are from later in life.


  • Stepping outside on the first deep freeze. Breathing in real deep and having my nostrils stick together.  For some weird reason, I just loved that?!
  • Digging up the last of the potatoes out in our garden. Here again, I was a bit strange as I would always keep a couple hidden in my pocket for later.  Just loved the taste of a garden fresh potato (yes – crunchy and sometimes a bit dirty but delicious).
  • Playing outside when the winds kicked up just to dance in the falling leaves.
  • The smell of hot chocolate when we came in from a cold day of play (still love this one).


  • I don’t remember doing much trick-or-treating when I was little as we lived in the country. Running from house to house sucked up a ton of gas with little returns.  Some years we would drive into the local small towns, but not often.
  • I did love the Halloween television shows: Charlie Brown Halloween was (and still is) one of my favs. There were some odd ones too, The Monster Ball and one about a mean Pig creating Frankenstein’s monster – both were in Claymation (this is still my favorite animation form).
  • Then, as we matured (and I do say that lightly), my two sisters and I loved dressing up and bar-hopping.
  • One year I was a black widow spider, eight legs and all, and no one knew it was me.  Loved it as I was completely covered in dark black material and body paint.
  • My younger sister had a party where she dressed as a unicorn (oh, by the way, we made ALL of our own costumes as that was part of the fun of it.)
  • Our older sister dressed as her husband, and he dressed as the Grim Reaper – couldn’t tell them apart – ok, maybe just a bit.
  • o   The most favorite of all was when were still in Wisconsin and owned a little bar/restaurant establishment.  The basement was the place for the younger crowd.  We held our costume party in which our older sister went as a Lobster.  She was head-to-toe deep red – – –for several weeks after!  We still reminisce on that one, especially when we need some great laughs.  (Along with, never at.)



  • When we were younger, the routine was the same. Christmas Eve was going to church for our pageant.  After we put on our little play, the church gave everyone a large brown paper bag.   The bag held some of the greatest gifts of Christmas:
    • Always one large navel orange and one huge red delicious apple.
    • A huge variety of fresh nuts – never shelled as that was also part of our Christmas fun…cracking the nuts open.
  • And last, but my very favorite of all Angel Food Candy!  Man did I (and still very much do) love that stuff.  Some people call it sponge candy.  I have heard it called other things, but it will be Angle food for me forever.  Decades later I wanted to surprise my family for Christmas and buy some, but I could not find it anywhere.  I was lucky that computers were becoming very handy then (early 90’s), and I found a website called Wisconsin Recipes.  I do not believe it is still around.  I did find these:
    • has some great (looks like mainly German, Swiss, and Swedish foods) main course meals.
    • I also have a childhood friend with which I recently reconnected. Come to find out she loves to cook and to blog about it.  She is not in WI anymore, but I bet she has a ton of recipes from there.  If you are interested, you can find her here:  Her recipes are yummy!
    • The last I found after a ton of searching, cooking, tasting, and comparing. It is the (apparently) secret recipe for Angel Food Candy.  This is one of my most favorite candies ever, and I only make it up for Christmas.
    • The last one popped up by accident. I only saw the Wisconsin Old Fashioned part and didn’t realize until I clicked on it that it was a drink.  I found this as my daily omen as it was my parents drink of preference ( Brandy Old Fashioned ).  Yes, we grew up with Pabst Blue Ribbon beer (kind of have to in WI), but as they aged, they went to the B.O.F. for their drink of choice.  Since we owed a couple of different bars and restaurants while I was in my tween-teen years, it was all good.

The funniest part of that candy recipe hunt was the last.  I do not do hard booze at all.  I like my beer during our Friday game night or at family get-togethers, but no strong alcohol. This was also due to my parents and our bar rearing.  But that is a story for another time.


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I don’t say this to sound like you are a beastie that sits behind doors and jump-scares your kids.  I am talking about doing something (or things) that your kids will go: “MOM??!!”  (You do have to drag out the “o” part with the sound of “ah” to get the full effect.), once you have done it.

My fault is gifted from my mother.  My father did not know how to converse until he met her.   (Pretty sure of this fact.)  She, having been raised in the 1930’s without anything but radio and the art of conversation.  I know, I know…this sounds impossible (especially to those under thirty), but it is true.  She loved music, dancing, singing, and the art of conversation.

old radio

Lucky me – I received her gift!  It was not always this way.  I was a very shy and scared kid when I was younger.  Now that I think back, I guess part of my coming out also had to do with my father.  He forced me to go to work at about age fourteen selling sweet corn off the back of an old truck with a local farmer he knew.  The farmer was about as old as his truck and found it hard to attend to people like he wanted, so he hired me to do it.

selling corn off trk.jpg

He watched me the first day, cowering at the back of the wagon, and on the way home he said,

Do you want to know the secret of selling stuff?”

Mousey me answered yes, so he went on to share his secret.  I will now share this once-in-a-lifetime, old sage advice with all of you:

Find something about that other person that catches your eye.  Then compliment them on it.

That’s it.  I thought that couldn’t be all there is to it and decided to try it out the very next day.  A Cadillac pulled over, and a very well-dressed lady got out and came toward the back of the wagon.  I happened to notice her ring was really catching the sunlight.  Before she could utter a word, I looked her square in the eye and said,

That ring is beautiful!” (with a genuine smile on my face)

She instantly smiled back, held out her hand so I could get a better look, and told me how it had been in her family for decades.  We chattered back and forth about family heirlooms for a bit, and she ended up with two-dozen ears of corn.  I was so squirrely I thought I would explode with joy!

I used his tactic all the rest of that afternoon and could not thank him enough on the way home.  I did not feel shy anymore, but surprisingly confident.  The rest of the fall I would spend weekends with the old farmer selling his goods and loved every minute of it.  Not because of the sales part of it, but because of the conversation.

In all truth, I am a lousy seller.  I cannot bargain with anyone about anything.  If you tell me that’s the price, I will pay it with no dispute.  I make my younger sister do all the wheeling-and-dealing because she loves it, and is good at it.  Even to this day, I cannot sell anything unless I believe in it, like my crafts or our preserves.

However, if you would like to discuss something – ANYTHING – pick me.  I love the art of conversation.  I hated getting my first cell phone.  To me, it meant the end of proper, decent civilization.  Then the phone turned into a smartphone and death to the art of conversation.

You can:

  • Text for your groceries and pay for them too. Then just go pick them up.
  • Text for a pizza and have it delivered.
  • Argue or talk nasty about someone and never look them in the eye while you do it.
  • Brake up with someone
  • Fall in love with someone
  • Play games all by yourself, or with others, and you will never see your enemies eyes.

A part of me loves our modern convenience, but a bigger part of me is very saddened by it all.  You see it everywhere:

  • Cars
  • Bars
  • Coffee shops
  • Restaurants
  • Standing in lines anywhere
  • Driving (really ticks me off!)
  • Walking (ok, I do find this funny on Facebook posts when they walk into stuff while texting)

All the while none of these people are looking out at the world at all.  How can you text someone out to dinner with you, then spend the whole time looking at your phone?  I caught my daughter and one of her old boyfriends sitting next to each other at our table.  Both were texting and when I asked who they were talking to they said EACH OTHER – WHAT?!!?

Since that moment I have become obsessed with watching people and their “phones” and what they are missing during their obsession.  So, for those of you that do that…this is what you missed:

  • The best smile of your life.
  • The most beautiful sunset shared with a person you love.
  • Seeing the reaction, in real life, of a baby that gets introduced to a kitten or a puppy. Their laughter and the way they react to touching it for the first time is amazing.  You can’t get that wonderful feeling via a picture or video.  It must be experienced.
  • Touching a Rhino (yep, my nephew works at a zoo and did that, I am so jealous) or holding a penguin (yep, he did that too).
  • Hearing your child say, for the very first time – I love you.
  • Sharing a warm hug and tears with your best friend when their loved one dies. Sometimes no words are needed at all, just a hug and a smile.

I guess I got a little longer than normal here.  I just wanted to try to impress on everyone that the art of conversation must not die!  Keep your phones, social websites, and games; but look up once-in-a-while and smile at someone – even if they are a stranger.  You may be surprised to find that they usually smile back.  Oh and – BONUS – it makes you feel great.

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I’m not sure exactly when or how it happened, but I turned my fear of failure into an anger to make it right.  I do not seem to concentrate so much anymore on the fact that I failed, but more on the where did I go wrong and what can I do to fix it.

I am glad that I don’t see failure as a life-stopping omen anymore, although I would appreciate a whole month (afraid to ask for a year) of no failures – just once.  But I guess I will just accept the fact that I have been able to turn fear into anger to make it right.

I feel like I have to fight to make or get anything good in my life.  If I don’t fight for it, I feel like it came to easy and it will not last.  Even worse, I feel like I do not deserve it.

make a meme-slay the red dot(Don’t you just love – LOL)

Now, how stupid is that?  Get something good and think you need to give it back because you don’t deserve it.  I have been through hell in my short life (yes, 58 years is short to me) and I try to think that maybe a part of me, by now, should be allowed to appreciate and enjoy a bit of easiness.

I have purchased several self-help books to try to help me overcome this ridiculous feeling of non-deservingness (yep, that is now a word, I just made it up).  I love to read so I begin to follow their plans, guidelines, rules, ideas, whatever; only to fail again.

Instead, I am now trying something new.  This is not new to life in general, but it is new for me to use it.  I want to start my days by listing at least three things I have that are:

  1. Good for me and in my life now.
  2. Bring me happiness or at least make me smile thinking of them.
  3. Realize that I have earned them and do now deserve them in my life.

I am not forcing myself to write them down, even though I am a very visual learner.  I just wake up and, before I even get out of bed, I lay there and purposely think about the current good things in my life that I have.  These are some of them:

  1. Our small farm. I have found that it is apparently very hard or maybe just very scary for people to obtain one.  It took a ton of effort to get ours, and it continues to be a day-to-day struggle in many areas, but we have more good than bad things here:
    1. Critters to love and care for that, in return, give us good clean food.
    2. Space to grow all our own food naturally. We practice as much of the natural methods as possible for our area.
    3. Ability to have a small firepit  in our yard and actually see stars at night (missed that in Denver).
    4. Being able to look back at the end of my day and see the work I have done. I could never feel that way in my office, factory, restaurant, or other jobs.
    5. Every spring I look forward to playing with new baby critters. Every fall I look forward to processing all the food we grew.  Every winter I look forward to a bit of rest and planning for the next year’s surprises.


  1. Caring for my grandson. This one is actually a trick good thing.  The poor little pooper has been through so many horrific things in his little nine years of life, that I just want to provide as much stability and love that I can for him.  There are day’s that he drives me crazy.  But then we have a few daily games we play, and my favorite is when my sister tells him,

I love you.”

Then he responds I love you.” Back.

Then I chime in with “I love you more.” 

To which he very quickly responds “I love you less.”

And we all giggle.  We all know full well that he loves me to the moon and back the little fart.  It’s just a fun game just between us.

I do worry that I am too old to care for him properly.  After my many joint replacements and surgeries, I cannot run, jump, and play like he deserves; but I can watch him and give loving words of encouragement every chance I get.

my right shoulder replacemnt xray

  1. A cluster of family and friends that love me. I should also clarify that they all have the same weird sense of humor.  Our standard family motto lovingly passed down from our parents, is that if we are not picking on you – we don’t like you.  Sounds a bit wacko I know, but it’s true.  I know somewhere in my past posts I shared my father’s pet name for me was Dumb Shit.  This was never shared in anger, disgust, or hate; but always in love and usually with a smile or laughter kicked in.  It was his way of making one of my failures a little less painful, and it always worked (pretty sure he is in heaven laughing at me right now and using that nick-name).
  2. An older sister to share (or compare) our pain with.
  3. A younger sister to share day-to-day life with.

I also don’t care if it is the same thoughts every day.  I just try to remember different situations in which they made me smile.  Things like the grandson saying he loves me less.  Then the next day is tricking me into playing an indoors game of badminton with a large balloon and fly swatters until he fell on the floor laughing.  Maybe it was just the huge ear-to-ear grin on his face when he snuck a new baby kitten away from its mama so he could show me he found them. (FYI-it is very hard to get mad at him for pulling them away from their mom when he is so proud that he found them.)

I have shared all this in the hope of you finding your anger to battle your failures until you can either get them into winners or believe that you have given it your best shot and move on with confidence.  Know that you have done the best you could.  After all, some of life’s best failures have been the best creations.

northern lights

(P.S.  Thinking of the good stuff first in the morning, is making me have a happier day.)

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