Stuck in a Winter Wonderland

This is the view from my computer. This is as close as I will go to outside! It is snowing, but small, hardly visible flakes.

Snow, snow, and then more snow. We had no snow all through November and then it hit us sooooo hard. Spokane has been closed. Seattle is paralyzed. My little school, however, is like the Little Engine That Could. We didn’t miss a day. We even had our Winter Program. I expected a poor turnout, but basically everyone was there. Up here, we are used to crappy roads and snow.

It is hard though, so relentless. They have broken records for all time in Spokane. And the snow only lets up when it gets cold enough to freeze your nose shut in the first inhale. It was -15 yesterday in Spokane, with wind chill, -23. I think it was even colder up here. Today it is ‘warmed’ up to almost 0, so now we have snow falling again!

That was one of the reasons I hated living in Montana. It was as cold as -40 in winter, with constant wind. The snow would blow over the road and get as hard as concrete. You would have to bash through to drive anywhere. Everyone had engine heaters and cars had to be plugged in 24/7 if you had a prayer of getting it started.

So I am hiding inside, waiting for a break in the weather. School got out last Friday so I have no place to go. Happy for that! I need a haircut, but it will wait. My friend was going to Hawaii and the Spokane airport was closed, so it got cancelled. What an awful end to their plans. Good year to have no travel plans. I plan to eat too much, drink too much, watch movies and read, play games with the family, and keep warm.

This is a tree outside my window:

We are the RC

Recovering Christians. As we try to preserve traditions of our families and move toward new belief systems, we have expanded our traditions to include other cultures in addition to the one we were born into. Our tree has a wide variety of ornaments (I don't like boring ball ornaments).

We added a Festivus Pole last year (so funny if you are in the know) We don't have the airing of grievences or feats of strength parts, just the fun of the silly pole. If you don't know, google Festivus. It was from the Jerry Seinfeld show. Side note: I read Assassination Vacation by Sarah Vowell and she wrote at length about the Oneida Commune. They had a weekly airing of complaints meeting. I guess Seinfeld didn't make it up on his own!

We also have a menorah this year. We learn about the origins of Hanukkah in my class and the kids play dreidel and learn the meaning of the holiday. I have added the Dreidel Song to our holiday song books. Wish I knew more.

We could do Santa Lucia of Sweden, where the eldest daughter serves the family rolls with a advent wreath on her head with lit candles. But I think having G wear a crown of flaming candles would end in the loss of life and our home. So we will choose life.

This year, our Japanese intern moved to her next house right after Thanksgiving, so we put up our stuff early so she could experience it. It is so much fun to share traditions with guests.

Happy Solstice, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Christmas, Happy New Year!

A New Day

Alice, in the Twilight vampire series, always says that she can see the future once a decision is made. I made a decision yesterday and it is like the clouds have finally begun to clear. It may seem strange, but it was the decision to not rely on others. Seems so negative, but once I made it, I began to climb out of my hole of sadness. Self reliance is something I value highly in myself, so I guess it needed to be reawakened.

So, friends, be there for me or not. I will be there for me.

Lost in the Fog

When things are right with the world, I function fairly well and am seen as a strong person. This is always a surprise to me, seeing my physical frailties. I can barely walk. But my friends see me as some sort of superwoman, able to do anything. So I find that now I am in crisis mode, I can’t find the support I need. Usually, I turn to Mossy Man and he to me, but I must be ‘Strong, supportive Wife’ now when things are hard for him. He is doing really well at the moment; optimistic and strong in his search for a new job. Our son continues to add to the mix by being difficult at every single turn.

So I hate that I have these needs. I turned to my best friend for help. Lord knows, I have been there for her. But she has nothing to give back. I can’t hold it against her, she has plenty of her own serious burdens. But what’s a girl to do? I am struggling and need someone to lean on, besides Mossy. I am so saddened by my best friend’s inability to help me when I need it. And it hurts her deeply to see me flailing about and she feels unable to help.

So I reach out to cyber world for advice. What to do? How to get through this? I want to be Sunny again.

This is so hard. I keep trying to pull myself up from this situation and then something more happens and it knocks me back down. Why us? Why now? Will it ever stop dumping on us?

On the good side, we have each other. Our love remains strong.

Resiliency is the thing that saves people in difficult situations. Educators have often tried to define it. They can see is when it happens, but fail to know why some people are resilient and others aren’t. I’d like to view myself as resilient. Why am I so? No clue. I do come from a long line of stubborn, opinionated SOB’s. Maybe that is what does the trick?

No, it’s more complicated. I knew a young woman from a truly messed up family. She came to live with us when she had no place to go. She was amazing. She took care of herself. Took care of her stuff. Stayed sober and in school. She never appeared to be an SOB like the ones I know so well.

I have no more answers than the many researchers have. But I know how much I need my resiliency right now. But this element seems to have bypassed my son. He gives up at every challenge. How does one impart this? No answers.

Never give up. This is my motto of the moment.

Clouds

One job gone. What next?

To Hope or Not to Hope

Life is full of good and bad these days. It is hard to be sunny with so many stresses.

Good: My national board bonus was surprisingly doubled this year. I would like to be happy about that.

Bad: Mossy’s and our daughter’s jobs are in danger. Both of them work for the county (different agencies) and all agencies are facing 10% cuts. This may mean one or both jobs.

Good: My MS continues to remain in remission. My neurologist says I may be a good candidate to move to an oral med. When they become available, maybe next year. My body is covered with sore lumps from my daily shots. Big hurray!

Bad: “It’s the economy, stupid.” ‘Nuf said.

Good: Dare I hope that the Democrats will finally win? The signs are looking good, but that may make people skip voting. I want to feel hope! Vote, vote, VOTE!

I think I need to Vote

Boy, am I ticked! The right wing media shriekers are yelling about the Sarah Palin cover on Newsweek. Claiming the magazine chose a bad pic on purpose. I subscribe to Newsweek. I saw the cover before I heard about the controversy. I thought she looked good on it. She is clearly dressed up/ made up for the public. When I went back after hearing the nasty noise, I see the same. She is close up for the cover. I can barely make out some mustache hairs (Oh, my god! The infamy!) There is a small mark on her nose (so unlike everyone else!)

So, don’t the raving fools have any clue about journalistic ethics? Newsweek is not a women’s mag, nor an entertainment rag. They can’t alter pix. Where would you draw the line? Can you airbrush out a gun in the wrong hand? Add a missile that isn’t there? Change the appearance of a president that is ailing? Of course not.

Another distraction from the losing side coming in the beginning of November. They know they don’t have a leg to stand on. The economy disaster can find it’s roots in Reaganism deregulation and its final knife twist in Bushism. I know, let’s keep their minds off the economy failing by whining that our vp candidate doesn’t look airbrushed on a cover. Now that’s an important issue!

I could rant some more, but I think I got enough of it out. For now. I think I’ll go watch Jon Stewart and get the real news.

I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco

We were planning a trip to San Francisco for my 50th birthday and our 30th anniversary. It was causing me anxiety. I haven't ever been there and wanted very much to visit. The travel agent's first response was that we didn't want to go there because of my mobility issues. I looked into options and it didn't see insurmountable, and yet I still felt anxiety. I think it came from the importance of this celebration (you know, big numbers and all) so if it didn't go well, it would be crushing for me. There was too much at stake for going to a new place.

So I had a new idea. I know how to cruise. There was an article in the paper about new cruises out of Seattle, 3 days, and only in Sept. and Oct. (like repositioning cruises). I knew it was the right choice when we booked one and I had NO anxiety. It felt comfortable. No more sleeplessness from what should be a happy plan.

Mossy hasn't shown much interest in getting remarried on the cruise, so I don't know if that will happen. I will still make it to San Francisco some day, just when there is less at stake.

Time to sing another song, for me

What does it say about who shares your birthday?

Kevin Sorbo of TV’s Hercules
The Hamm twins of gymnastics
F. Scott Fitzgerald, author
Linda McCartney, Mrs. Paul
Phil Hartman, comedian
Jim Henson, muppet creator

Strong like Hercules, graceful as a gymnast, talented at writing as Fitzgerald, famous vegetarian, funny person, puppeteer. Nah, not me, but I can wish!

On the down side, The Hamm twins missed the Olympics in Bejing due to injuries, Fitzgerald’s wife had serious issues, Hartman’s wife murdered him, Linda couldn’t sing her way out of a paper bag, and died young of cancer, and Jim Henson was way too young and died of the flu.

Hercules – flawless and fictional?

Anyway, not wanting to feel old today as I turn 49. How long can I really call myself middle aged? I would have to live to be 100 at this point. Not bloody likely, or even wanted! Sing to me in your head…

Brain Cracks are Falling in my Head

Sing along if you know the tune…

Brain cracks are falling in my head
But that doesn’t mean my thoughts will not be sunny
Yet, I don’t like to give
up,
Those brain cracks are falling in my head
They keep fallin’

My MS has led to what I call cracks in my brain. Sometimes, in the dark of night, I wake up to go to the bathroom, and upon returning to bed I can’t go back to sleep. My mind springs awake and I go over the same things many, many times. The cracks let the thoughts in and then trap them.

This phenomenon typically only impacts me during the school year when I have to teach. I get maybe 2 good nights a week. It has been wearing me down for a couple of years. Summer is my haven. I have 5 or 6 good nights during the break. I love summer (even with the heat that hurts my MS symptoms) for that reason.

So, these cracks in my brain trap songs, ideas, worries, problems neatly in my head. How can you get them out? I am desperately hanging on to my job, you know how hard it is to lose half your income. My neuro gave me some meds to help, but when you wake up at 2:00, it seems like a bad to medicate at that late hour. He wants me to medicate daily to prevent, but if I wake up later, they don’t work any more because they aren’t narcotic.

So, I move to the family room and watch things that don’t make me think, like Judge Judy or other brainless, monotone show and that usually does the trick. I fall back asleep in an hour or so in the chair until one of the kids or Mossy wakes up.

I used to love going to bed and waking up refreshed and ready for the new day. I am definitely a morning person, but this has hampered my enthusiasm.

Abortion

With abortion entering the current political climate, I got to thinking about this hot button topic.

There was a pregnant wife of an airman at the Air Force base near Spokane when I was in college. Pres. Reagan happily enforced a government employee rule banning late term abortions. This young woman, married and happy to be pregnant, found she had a child that had no higher brain at all. It had only the ‘lizard’ brain that controls basic functions. Because of this, the fetus was moving within her uncontrollably all the time. As it was missing much of its brain, it would not survive a day outside the womb. So, because of politics, she wasn’t covered by insurance to end the pregnancy. And I believe she was 6 months along at the time. So, she was condemned to spend months with thrashing within her own body, waiting for her child to die. And yet, the government said it wouldn’t endanger her health, the only excuse possible (I guess mental health didn’t count). As she and her husband were young, they had no money to pay for their own abortion. I never did hear how it all worked out. I do remember hearing that people were organizing to gather money to pay for a late term abortion for her. I hope she survived and went on to bear other healthy children. I can’t even imagine the horror of that situation.

It is so easy to stand on a pedestal of rigid thinking and say that it is ALWAYS this or that. Life is not so easy. Theories are nice and clean. My daughter is not a theory.

After my daughter proved to have disabilities that no one could explain, we faced our own questions. Should we have another child? Would it also have her problems? Would it be fair to her to have less time to maximize her support? Would she have a quality life? Would another child? What if, even with precautions, we got pregnant? We spent years on these questions. Fortunately, we never had to decide what to do with an unplanned pregnancy. But I have to ask, is it anyone else’s decision? Mossy and I should be the ones to make such decisions with our doctor. Why should the government be involved? A politician should better know what we should do? Would anyone else deal with the life long implications of such a child? We have seen first hand how family stays away because they don’t know how to help or don’t want to deal with the burden.

Don’ tell me the rhetoric about baby murder. It’s more complicated than that. All babies aren’t healthy. Danger to mothers is a given. Historically, many women died in childbirth. We tend to forget that. Babies grow up. Someone has to raise them.Just making a baby doesn’t give it a good life. Could you spend 3 months with a mindless, thrashing baby in your body 24/7? I couldn’t and I dare not sit in judgment of another.

After we adopted our second child, a friend hesitated to tell me of her daughter’s recent abortion. She had been in high school, and they struggled mightily as a family when faced with an unplanned pregnancy. My friend thought I would be opposed to abortion, given our adoption. I assured her that what they decided was the best for them. How can I tell them how to deal with such a difficult situation? How could anyone?

Fessing Up to Cheating

I am notorious among those I associate with for cheating and looking ahead to the end of books. I read the beginning to establish the characters and story, then cut to the last chapter or pages. Then I go back and read the rest of the book. Some don’t even know that I cheat on movies, too. I regularly go to moviepooper.com to see the ends of movies.

Actually, this peculiar habit helps me enjoy books and movies more. I find myself speed reading (I am a teacher, after all) while worrying about how the story will end. I have a dvr and have been known to fast forward to the end of a movie in the same way. I will also reread or rewatch a movie after finding out I like the story.

Once I know the end, I can enjoy the ride of the book or movie. Plus, when movies now cost upwards of $10 a person, it is good to know if I might enjoy it. When I see they may be sad or unfulfilling in the end, I save my money and wait for the dvd. I had to see the end of Harry Potter’s books and Twilight books, just to be sure everyone was okay in the end. Of course they were, but it was reassuring to know how they got to the end.

I bet I’m not the only one with this compulsion. It just feels lonely when everyone hassles/teases me for looking ahead!

Oh, the Joys of Small Town Livin'

One of my favorite things about living near a small town happens twice a year here. (The third thing is the 4th of July fireworks. See my pix on this page from it). The Main Street parades. Uniquely small town, and getting harder to find. I had to take pix of the county fair to share this year.

The royalty (in a pickup, of course!)

Tractors of all sizes













Horses


















Politicians (not worth wasting a picture on)




Shriners in their ridiculous cars

This year we even had bagpipers out of Canada



A couple of floats





Where else is it okay to throw candy on the street at kids- and have kids collect it with their parent’s encouragement??!! We call Colville our favorite C+ town (you’d have to see the hill overlooking the town to get that reference. On parade days, I’d give it a B.

Now here is what really cracks us up about our town float. There is a new slogan, ‘Discover our Good Nature’ for Colville. There are banners hung on the streets with the slogan and symbols for the seasons (snowflake, sun, leaf, and a flower). So when we first saw this float, there were 3 girls on it. One dressed for winter, one for fall, and one for summer. What happened to the fourth season? Was she too expensive? Did she go missing? Remember the first parade Santa in the Miracle on 34th St.? This now has appeared twice in parades, both times with only 3 seasons. We think there should even be a 5th season around here- mud season.

There also appears to be a volcano in the back of the float. Maybe it erupted on Spring? Personally, I have never seen any volcanoes in the area. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

This mystery is part of the reason for Colville’s overall grade of C+.

And How!

Those of you who know of South Park will appreciate this sign. How unfortunate for Mr. Hankey!

Time to buy School Supplies

There is a certain amount of dread coming over me as I think about school starting in 2 weeks. Dropping enrollment, poverty, struggling families. Then I read my cyber friend's blog about her daughter starting her school year (an 8 year old). It reminded me of the joys to come.

I swear that teaching keeps me young (some say, too young). We are doing a big unit this fall on the unique history of Onion Creek. It is an amazing thing to be a part of. We are spiraling through the classes (all 3 in this tiny school). I start with life today, the next older class does OC of the 1970's (we had a hippy invasion, forever changing the valley), and ending with the oldest class studying pioneers in the area. We are at our best when we work together. I truly love what I do.

Let the year begin!

Ain’t Nature Inventive?

I keep pickin’ these cursed things out of my fuzzy rug, also known as Antonio. Every day, he comes in with a new load, nicely implanted in his fur. I am so tired of the little buggers.

They are only an inch long, so hard to photograph. The way I think they work is that the long end is like a needle, threading itself into the aforementioned hairy cat. Then the spirals begin to further advance the needle, making it secure in the really damn hairy cat. There are also a couple of guide wires to focus the energy of the insertion device into the fur of a really damn hairy dirty cat. The final end of this seed pod is scratchy and sticks, a bit like Velcro. At this point he enters the house and jumps on me, his damn dirty hair remover.

The kicker: I am allergic to cats! But he is sooo cute.

All hail the vampires

Shout out for Stephenie Meyer obsession! Aug. 2 marks the release date of the final vampire book in the Twilight series. I devoured all the Anne Rice vampire books. They are long finished and there are no more to be had. I saw a review of the 3rd Twilight book in Entertainment mag. What caught my eye was that it said the 'ethical' vampires lived in Seattle (in my beloved Washington state). A co-teacher said, "Duh, who hasn't heard of those books?" And led me to the school library. I read books 1,2, and 3 in a few days. I was hooked. The reviewer was in error, though. You know how EVERY place in Washington is Seattle? The primary setting of the tale is Forks. This is even better. I've been there. It's more interesting than Seattle.

Don't let the fact that these books are intended for teens. They are well written and engaging. Since they are for kids, pretty darn clean, too. But Meyer can spin a tale like nobody's business. It is all about love, loss, and longing. Who can't relate to that?

Stephenie also published a book for adults this spring called The Host. I don't know if I have ever cried so much reading a book. I have a soft place in my heart for self sacrifice for others in the name of love. And the topic is so interesting. Sort of Invasion of the Body Snatchers from the point of view of the alien. It puts that story on its ear. It also bears similarities to tv/movie's Star Gates in the Goauld's (sp) misappropriations of others' bodies.

Meyer has been compared to J.K. Rowling. Rightly so.

My Amazon-ordered book will arrive soon. Don't call for a few days; I'll be busy.

Happy reading!

Some less than sunny thoughts

I am more than my MS. I am sure of it. At times it doesn’t seem possible that there is room to be anything but the MS. It reminds me daily of its presence. When I wake up and find my eyes don’t work or I can’t stand up, it beats me on the head.

The biggest tragedy of MS, in my perspective, is that is robbed me of the years in our lives when we usually feel the best (30’s). I got sick first at 29. It mostly went away for the next 12 years and I lived in denial as much as possible. My mother even said that maybe they diagnosed me wrong. Then my evil little friend decided to remind me of its ever present self in my life.

I learned that while it may not be visible, the disease marches silently on, damaging the brain. Only 10% of brain scars show up on the ‘outside’. The rest are not observable. When I first got sick at 29, there were no drugs to treat MS. I went for most of the next 12 years without treatment. When I got sick again, an MRI showed innumerable black holes in my brain.

When 40 came, a rash of exacerbations wouldn’t quit. I’ve been hospitalized twice. I had repeated bouts of optic neuritis, one of Bell’s palsy, and brain stem scarring that resulted in massive muscle loss. No more room for denial. I used to be able to ‘pass’ for normal. Not so lucky any more. I now have a cane, walker, and scooter to use when needed. It is hard though. Everyone can SEE those things. I have see people in scooters get run over in Costco. People with obvious disabilities are often seen as less competent. I know many have written on this topic. I know ADA is in place to help. But it doesn’t fix the inside of me. Having a child with disabilities awakened understanding and compassion in me that wasn’t there before. I think that has helped me deal with my own losses.

At 40, there were now the ABC drugs. I had a short run on interferon. It made me sick every other day. So we quit that one. Next we tried betaseron. I had exacerbations 3-4 times a year. So we now are using Copaxone. Even that didn’t do enough. Finally my neuro added Cellcept, a drug to fight organ rejection in transplant patients. That appears to have done the trick. I haven’t had an exacerbation for nearly 3 years.

It kind of comes too late. I lost so much balance, strength, and coordination that don’t seem to want to come back. Now I approach 50 with no confidence in my ability to maintain my lifestyle. I still can’t talk about early forced-retirement without crying. It is getting harder and harder to do my job. But Mossy and I are not living in denial so much any more and are trying to prepare for the loss of my income. I just hope I can put it off as long as possible.

My favorite MS mottos:

MS- my personal thrill ride

MS SUX

Of Beards and Such

My first awareness of the use of the term ‘beard’ came from a tv or movie reference to a gay man taking a woman on a date to cover up the fact that he was gay from his family and friends. But I think there are many shades of beards.

I use my daughter as a beard when I buy her season tickets for Broadway Shows in Spokane. I say buy them for her, but it turns out they are just as much for me. I must admit I am a musical junkie.

I use my kids as an excuse to go to places like Disneyland. My problem is that they are growing up and don’t really want to go any more. I am going to have to admit my enjoyment of the parks without my kid crutch.

My husband uses our kids as his beards to go to every kind of kid movie. I am just waiting for the day neither of the kids wants to go any more and he will have to admit how much he enjoys those movies.

And then there is my son. In the full bloom of puberty, he uses a myriad of beards, all to meet girls. Going to the pool to ‘swim’. Joining the track team ‘to run’. Going to a church dinner ‘to learn about 'religion’. And this list was just from the last week.

I am positive that this trick of using others’ as our beards to cover our true motivations is widely used beyond my household. Of course I could be wrong and we could be the only people living in denial of our true motivations. Or you could admit you do it, too!

my sunny side revealed

Being behind the wheel brings out the sunniest part of my disposition. The limits in the mobility world vanish when on the road. These pix are from the same 20 miles of road, around the year.

I have a friend/coworker who lived out of our school district and had to drive every day. I listened to her complaints for years. Then we moved out of the district and I had to drive as well.

So to counteract her negative perception, I began to carry my camera and document the drive to work. I had a few rules for myself: I had to take pix from my car, drive at the normal time for work, and stay on the road (stopping was allowed, of course, so I wouldn’t die in the attempt).

Wow. Talk about changing the view; or the perception of the view. I started to show her the images I captured. (We go on the same road at the same times).

She doesn’t complain any more. And I am never tired on the way to and from work. There is so much to see. I don’t know if the same could be said of a freeway commute, but you never know.

Views

When we had just bought our new house and were getting it ready to move in, a friend was working on the house. He said, “Boy, that is quite a view you have there. It never quits.” I honestly was surprised. I hadn’t paid attention. With all the problems with buying the house (trouble spots on the house’s evaluation, prior owner’s bankruptcy and all its complications; and those are just 2 of many things) I hadn’t paid attention to the surroundings. I went out and looked. Holy crap! It had a great view! I was sitting outside last night and reflecting on this story. Here are pix of the view from one seat, moving across the valley. If you could line them up, they make a long picture.

Talk about missing the forest for the trees. I know we all get myopic vision at times. My MS tends to do that to me. I get so bound up in panic for my losses, I forget to look at the other, better things that are all around me. Eventually, I usually wake up and notice, Holy crap! Things aren’t as bad as I obsess them to be. There is hope. Light at the end of the tunnel—and maybe, just maybe, it isn’t from a train rushing to crush me.

Now, since we moved in last year, we have all come to appreciate the view here. Literally. We spent most every summer evening out looking at the lights, distant traffic, stars, moon. Of course it was ‘quality’ time for us as a family. And even free.

I hope you have Holy crap! views in your life too.

Not Your Typical Love Story, part 2

Wedded Bliss, again and again and again…

I’ve been married 3 times. Each time with the same Ol’ Mossy.

My parents divorced when I was 16, leaving me disillusioned about marriage. I swore I would never get married. Famous last words.

When I was but 19, I met and eventually fell in love with the young, less-mossy Forest. I had dropped out of college and was working in a warehouse. Mossy was transferred to the warehouse where I worked. At first he was grumpy having me train him on the job (good training ground for marriage!) We built a strong friendship and love in our first months working together. He had always said he wanted to hitch hike up and down the coast for a summer. He said no one ever thought he should do it. Then along came Sunny. I told him he should if he wanted to. So, as we were making this relationship, in June, he up and leaves. No promise when, or even if, to return.

My sister was having a big wedding in September. Right before the wedding, Mossy called from Olympia. He was out of money and unsure of where to go next. I said I would love it if he could come to my sister’s wedding and I would come get him. He said yes. I drove in my red Beetle all the way over and we drove straight back, talking all the way. When we were nearly to my house, he said, “So let’s do it.” I said, “Do what?” He replied, “Get married.” I said, “Okay.” After that long journey home, I knew he was my soul mate.

And that was that. My birthday was in 3 days. I had expected a disappointing 20th birthday. All the family would be gone following the wedding of my sister. So, I hatched the plan to get married on my birthday. A wedding in 3 days- and I wasn’t even pregnant.

You can imagine the excitement of our families (insert strong smell of irony). My mom didn’t come. She thought I was just jealous of my sister’s fancy wedding. We got married by a judge with Mossy’s sister and my brother standing up with us. I think my in-laws and Dad and his new wife may have been there. We don’t have many pictures of the day. The next day after the wedding, I returned to college and started my education in earnest. We knew the point of getting married was the marriage and not the wedding.

But there was a spot in me over time that grew with regret for not making memorable that day in any way. So, we planned a wedding in our yard for our 20th anniversary (also my 40th birthday (Good planning! Accident, actually. Does Mossy ever forget my birthday or our anniversary? No.) So when 45/ 25 years rolled around, we did it again, this time in Vegas with a fake Elvis. (That one was for the fun) I will be 50 next year. What will we do next??????























Feel free to submit suggestions in the suggestion box.

Not your Typical Love Story, part 1

1978: I worked for a health food company. Part of my job was making regular deliveries to the retail stores. At one stop, Mossy was there (a store employee) helping us unload. He asked me my name. Being young and sassy, I declined because, “You won’t even remember it.” He protested that he would, so I told him. In a week, when we returned with our next delivery, he greeted me with my name. I laughed and expressed my amazement. Thus started a great friendship. We married quickly and life moved on. At least FIVE years later, Mossy confessed; he had asked his boss for my name since he had forgotten it. I was robbed! He tricked me into marriage! I want a redo!

Watch for part 2…

Miracles

After my daughter was born with multiple disabilities and no one could explain, we were unsure about having more children. When things were going well, we would think that maybe, we would take the chance. When things went badly, we were sure we didn’t want to take any more chances.

So we waffled back and forth until she was 8 or 9. At that point we started looking into adoption through the state foster-adopt system. We respite fostered several kids and found they were so abused before the state stepped in that they were a danger to Genny. We started researching foreign adoptions.

Many people knew we were looking, so when a coworker of Mossy heard about a baby boy that needed a home, she told us. She said there were 2 other interested families in line first. We discussed it and decided if he was available, we would take him, even though it seemed unlikely. This was late August.

So, Mossy and Genny went to visit his sister for Labor Day weekend. I stayed home to prep for the start of the school year. While he was gone, I got a call. The man on the phone identified himself as the child’s grandfather. He said, “You want to come get him?” He was very concerned that I know the baby was not retarded, just slow because he had spent too much time in a playpen. I assured him we didn’t care if he was disabled. This little boy needed us. I got an address and prepared to go. I tried to call Mossy, but they were out and about, so I left a message. I realized I had no car seat so made call until I located one to borrow. As I was driving, it hit me; our lives would never be the same.

I drove to the town where the baby was. The grandparents had the tiniest house, not even room for the portable playpen they were using for a crib. They said the child’s mother was a teen parent. She had tried to raise him on her own, as the father denied paternity and was still a minor. She had decided to join the navy and gave the baby to her father to find a home for him.

They promptly handed me the baby. He was 10 months old and look intently at my face and then smiled. That sure sealed the deal. So, with some clothes and formula, we hit the road for home.

School started in 2 days, we had no child care, no legal rights to the child; but we had the baby! Again, the fates were on our side. Mossy finally called and I told him I had a baby. I found a grandma lady to babysit, and after the first day of school we met with a lawyer.

There were some more twists and turns, but in 7 weeks, on Alex’s 1st birthday, we had our court date and he became our son! They tell you your court date, and they remarkably choose his actual birthday. People ask how we managed to adopt, but this was an un-repeatable story. I don’t believe in a god, but I do believe in miracles.

Panty Hose Rules

A new fellow teacher and I were at a training for new teachers. I was her mentor to help her on her journey into teaching. Something we heard there has stuck with me for many years. The story was as follows:

A new P.E. teacher went to the faculty lounge every day, and no one would talk to her. Outside of the lounge, everyone was fine and friendly. Finally, one day, another teacher took pity on her (no mentor teachers, apparently). She told her that teachers were expected to wear panty hose in the lounge. Being a P.E. teacher, she had been wearing sweats to the lounge. She began to dress up and all was fine. The moral of the story; there are many rules in societies and groups, that are unwritten, unspoken, but enforced just the same.

I find this to be incredibly true. Being in a new environment; be it a party, in law’s home, work, travel, and so on, there are many rules that no one tells us about; but they expect us to somehow know them. I mean, who doesn’t, it’s so obvious to all of US. Perhaps its roots are in our tribal past/nature as humans.

My most vivid memory like this, in my life, was when I was a teenager and invited to dinner at a friend’s house. Everyone just sat there at the table with the food. I thought they were waiting for me to start, as their guest. I reached for a spoon and they all dropped their heads for grace. I had no clue. My friend hadn’t warned me. He probably assumed everyone knew and did this. I was so embarrassed. My family never did that.

So I guess I would say, be aware, share the rules, and BTW I hate panty hose nearly as much as MS! But that is hardly relevant to this story.

My Best Free Advice

Sidebar: I wrote this piece then decided not to post it. It sounded preachy to me. But then I thought that it might have some merit. So, anyway, make what you will of it. I really don't know nothin. You'll have to tell me how full of shit I am or on the money. Sunny



Marry your best friend.

That’s it. We have survived and perhaps even thrived through thick and thin. We don’t stay together for the kids, the money, the house, even the insurance. We try to laugh every day and have fun together. This is not always easy.

Our daughter was born with a major disability. A high percentage of marriages end after such a traumatic experience. We got closer.

I was diagnosed with MS at 29 years old. We stayed together. I have been hospitalized several times with exacerbations. I now have a walker to use at times and many impairments. We are still together.

I have aged in unpleasant ways. He looks better with age and ‘they’ tell him so. Still we go on together.

I think the passion and excitement of a new relationship fades over time. Looks fade. Our big deals from our youth become less important. But if you are with someone you like to spend time with, that you share interests with, it will get you through the bad times. Mossy reminds me when I feel bad about my shortcomings as a spouse that I didn’t choose MS. But he and I chose each other. Our friendship has grown over the years. I rarely tire of spending time with him.

I find it interesting when people say about their own relationships, “Oh, we’re just friends.” I know better. That is the kind of relationship to build a marriage on.

Withdrawal Symptoms

I have had my 2 kids in my school for 21 years. When I moved here, my daughter was 3 years old. She started in the preschool right away. I normally teach students for 3 years, grades 1-3, but we held her back due to her disability, so I personally taught her for 5. She was in the school for 13 years in the end before moving to high school in town. The year after she left, our son joined the school as a kindergartner, so I have always had one of my kids in my school.

He just graduated last night from 8th grade. That will make next year my first without my own children in my work day. I’m glad he managed to graduate. Happy to see him move on to the next phase of his education. Hoping he makes it all the way to high school graduation. But I will miss him. I missed my daughter, but had my son to distract me from missing her. No such luck this time.

I know other teachers don’t have such a personal stake in their work, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I’m sad. Who could possibly offer advice? My situation isn’t like anyone else’s that I can think of.

I know, I will borrow, steal, or adopt another one. That’s it, what a brilliant solution! ( I know, get over it already)

You Have Such a Pretty Face

How many times have I heard that? Not lately, unfortunately. In hindsight, I wish I had been able to successfully deal with my weight earlier in my life. I was an average sized child. My troubles started as a young teen. I had become womanly by age 12 and packed on some weight before the growth spurt that we now know is expected. My parents got worried and put me on a diet right away. They didn't know any better.

And so it began. The cycle of dieting wildly inappropriately, celebrating with food, falling off the impossible diet and gaining more than I started with. I know better now, too late, that diets don’t work. Lifestyle change is the way to go.

Now, my MS hampers me at every turn. I get an exercise regimen going, lose some weight, and boom, the MS hits and I can’t walk or even stand up for weeks. This has happened three times in a big way and many times in small ways. What’s a girl to do?

And then there is the wonderful future. My dr. said I might want to lose weight so when I have to be moved around, it will be easier. Great—lose weight to be a better object to move. That is soooo motivating.

MS SUX

cat love

We have had cats for a long time. We were down to one, who is getting old. So we decided to get a new one. Ol Mossy would rather leave us than get a new cat (so he claims) but the kids were passionate. So he and I both started to ask around. We didn't want a kitten from an unknown background (insert your own horror story here). So, we both found one. Remarkably, Mr. Mossy said we should get both. After picking me up off the floor, we set about adding to our family.

How cute are they? The first was the black tabby. Then the orange one was old enough to adopt. Mossy said maybe if he named them both he might hate them less, so that is how Crikey (the black boy) and Antonio (think Antonio Banderas as Puss in Boots from Shrek) were named.

The first week they were together was "Kill Antonio Week". We were concerned. By week's end, they were the best of friends.
So now they are a year old and loved way too much. My son calls Antonio my rug. He approaches me, makes eye contact, and jumps on my chest to purr and shed freely up my nose. He knows he is pretty.

Crikey is the athlete. His man is the one and only Mossy, who loves him back. Who'd a thunk it? Crikey loves to hunt. He was nearly done in by a large gopher. He managed to win the battle, but had to go to the vet from it. He survived and now seems to stick to the little moles and mice.There's something we never thought we'd see! Mossy and 2 cats, by his choice.