A New Perspective from a Wastebasket Full of Tissues

Today is SUCH a big day for me. I dreaded the week before Monday, March 24 like no other. My son's birthday is today. I knew it would be fun and happy. I'd feel the glow from my pride of his mere existence, and joy I've felt since the day I realized my husband and I had made brothers. We MADE brothers. Not just siblings, but brothers. Both of us had seen, firsthand, what making sisters can end up like for a couple. There isn't always a close bond. It's not always pretty. We would have been just as just happy with girls, but brothers. How awesome is that?! And it has been amazing. So beautiful to watch them grow up, not just close, but as best friends. Better than we had imagined.

But to get to this happy day I had to personally make it through two others. The day before my son's birthday, which was the 2nd anniversary of my husband's heart attack, and two days before that, which was my unborn child's due date. I have been dreading them.

We were floored when my husband had his heart attack the day before my son's birthday. I looked at the imaginary calendar in my head and would get so furious and heartbroken when we didn't know if he was going to survive the day. I didn't want all my son's birthdays ruined if his daddy died the day before his birthday. It was unreal that it was all happening the day before that special day. It would have been a devastating day for our family any day of the year. But why that day?! When surgery successfully saved his life, I wanted to fast forward to my son's next birthday and see his father there with us celebrating. I just needed that time behind us so that I could see for myself that he was going to live, and that the heart attack was the end of a problem, not the beginning of problems, as his heart surgeon had tried to assure me.

When we found out we were pregnant in July and due two days before my husband's 2nd anniversary of the heart attack, and the same weekend as my son's birthday, I thought it was a sign intended to let me know that my threatened pregnancy would be a success. There's no way around it. I thought it would be okay.

I believe in signs. Or I did up until that point. My faith wavers with every smack in the face. I just float around now taking one day at a time and being grateful for everything that I do have. But this last week, the one I was really dreading, was full of signs.

My husband's health took a drastic turn as my dreaded week approached. He and his doctors and I were focused on keeping him from having another heart attack. Even with his medications, his blood pressure was extremely high. I had really grown complacent, thinking that he would always be okay, though I have kept my habit of checking his breathing any time I wake in the night, and when I wake up in the morning. We had a little scare in the fall, but extensive tests showed that his heart was just fine. With this latest scare, it took six days away from his stressful job to get his blood pressure to level out. A few times,when it fluctuated from high to very low in a short period of time, I was ready to pack him up and take him to the E.R.

Needless to say, though I don't think a baby is ever a bad idea, and would have given anything to give birth to a beautiful newborn last week, I couldn't help imagining as it was happening how awful my last week of pregnancy would have been with my husband's life at risk again, with my poor son's birthday coming up again.

The clincher came when one of our dear tailgate market sellers died suddenly at the end of the week. This precious couple, only in their 60s, I held as my image of the ideal retired couple. They set up beside us all summer to sell their homemade, natural soaps and made each Saturday morning delightful. She told me on the last day that they set up that they would spend the winter in her soap making studio next to the wood stove sipping tea. Perfection. I wanted go grow old with my love, living peaceful days together like the ones they shared.

Missing that baby who barely existed and will never be, will always put a hitch in my step, but on my due date I felt an amazing sense of relief and actual peace for the first time since August. My husband's latest round of tests showed no disaster on the horizon if we can just keep that blood pressure down. He has an amazing new cardiologist at the VA hospital who is looking into every possible reason for his ongoing problems, and has even insisted that he start practicing yoga. I am so excited to have him for my yoga partner and really hope that he can feel the changes in his body and stress level once he begins.

I was heartbroken for my fellow market vendor, who was so suddenly widowed. It was difficult to imagine her without her wonderful husband by her side, because I had never seen them apart. But ultimately I was so thankful that, though her husband had died of a massive heart attack in the same department, at the same hospital, possibly under the hands of the same staff that saved mine a couple of years ago, my sweet husband was still standing next to me at the funeral home when we went to pay our respects the day after "due day".

I realize now that we can't have another baby. We quit trying in December because it was just too heartbreaking to keep on. But knowing that things can so quickly change helps me find peace with that. Birthdays and wonderful, ordinary, every day kind of days with both of my perfect children make it all okay, too.

And as I stood in the viewing room at the funeral home after holding that sweet lady in the hallway who looked so very alone, and saw a tissue box on a side table with a full wastebasket of used tissues below it, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. I directed my husband's attention to it and whispered that I wished it were appropriate to take my phone out and snap a photo at a viewing because the scene was one of the most poignant I had ever witnessed. It was an amazing, humbling view of a slice of life, National Geographic style. Love and loss in a little white bucket. I know I've filled a bucket of my own this past year, but found myself being thankful for all of the distractions that made me appreciate my life during the week I was most dreading, rather than leaving room for focusing on what I've been denied.

And now it's lunch time. That means pizza and cake. It's my baby's birthday! The one who no longer looks anything like a baby, but more like the man that he is becoming. Definitely worth celebrating!

My 10 Favorite Natural Remedies

I am not going to go into a long discussion, like a little old lady, on all of the health issues I have experienced over the last year, but I'll say that it has not been fun.  August to August.  Just not fun.  But now I know that the majority of my problems have stemmed from low iron and an immune system that was just not what I was used to having.  The fabulous thing is that I did  not have to be seen for any of my issues, but was able to successfully treat them at home.  I really should have gone to the doctor for some of them, if only to learn that my iron was low to begin with, but will always opt to try a natural ingredient first.  That's just how I am.  Here are my favorite immune boosters, infection fighters, natural antibiotics, and skin health aids.

I am not a nutritionist, a trained homeopathic healer, doctor, nurse, or educated in any way in the medical field, and am in no way giving medical advice with this post, just sharing a few of the things I love because of how well they work for me.  My information on each item is opinion, and has only come to my attention through personal research.

1.  Raw Garlic ~ I slice it and allow it to sit for at least fifteen minutes.  The allicin in the garlic is said to increase after the garlic has been cut, and is reported to have antimicrobial benefits.  I read one person's account that stated that the cut garlic can be as far away as 6 inches and still work to kill the viral or bacterial cause of an infection.  I have successfully used it for an inner ear infection and for colds by holding a cut clove near my nose or ear. This is first on my list for a reason!

2.  Elberberry Juice Concentrate ~  I use this as an immune booster and infection fighter.  I dilute it in water and take it at the first sign of a cold or infection.

3.  Turmeric ~ This amazing spice works internally and on contact for me in fighting infections.

4.  Echinacea/Goldenseal Supplements ~ It is claimed that echinacea is an immune booster and that goldenseal can act as a natural antibiotic.  For someone who has had allergic reactions to antibiotics, this is my first line of defense when I experience a problem that I suspect is bacterial in nature.

5.  Raw Apple Cider Vinegar with the "mother" ~ I can't count the number of bottles of Bragg's that my family has gone through in the last year.  Just look it up.  You will be amazed.

6.  Peppermint Essential Oil ~  No more one-sided headaches that take two days to go away.  I used to get them every single day at work when I was a line cook, just from getting overheated. I also get them during the summer when I work outside.  No longer.  I recently started getting migraines again for the first time in over 20 years.  The piercing pain, vision problems, nausea...whole nine yards.  I believe they were due to the hormonal fluctuations I have experienced over the last four months, but they never were able to take hold if I jumped right on them and used my peppermint oil.  I use Aura Cacia, the strongest I have found, by putting a drop across my forehead and temples if I already have a headache coming on, or just hold the open bottle under my nose if I feel one starting. Works every SINGLE time.  Fortunately, I think the migraines are gone for good, now that I'm hormonally rebalanced.  I get itchy welts where I put the oil on my face if I use it repeatedly, so have begun using it with coconut oil.

7.  Coconut Oil ~ Raw, virgin, cold, expeller pressed ~  I have been putting a spoonful in my coffee every day since '06.  Too many benefits to list.  The only thing it doesn't work for, topically, is my rosacea.  My skin just can't handle the oil even though it's so beneficial.  It does work on insect bites and rashes I get from dog or cat hair, or whatever it is outside that bothers me in the garden.  I can't pinpoint what plants are so bothersome to my skin since I believe that many are.  Even green bean leaves flair up my forearms and wrists while I pick beans.  If I don't wash and use coconut oil immediately, the rash will set in and I will be taking Benadryl for a few days.

8.  Silver Hydrasol Nasal Spry ~ 3 times every day keeps my skin trouble away.  Hey!  I made a jingle!

9.  Vitamin C ~  My father the chiropractor taught me this valuable lesson from the time I was old enough to munch an acerola chewable.  So important for blood vessel maintenance, a strong immune system, fighting infections, etc.

10.  Natralia Eczema & Psoriasis Cream ~ Oh, thank goodness for this miracle goop!  Because of it, I can look in the mirror and recognize the face looking back at me and not wonder where I've gone.  It is not specifically labeled for rosacea, but when I was frustrated last winter and looking for another natural product to try, I read the ingredients in Natralia and decided that I had nothing to lose.  Avocado, lavender, aloe, licorice, and lots of other things that are recommended as natural ingredients for treating rosacea, are in this cream.  My face peeled and peeled when I first started using it.  I didn't freak out. I don't know why I didn't, but I kept using it.  My face reddened and my skin dried all the way down to my neck. I did start getting a little nervous when it became so dry that I lost sensation in my skin, but I kept using it.  Once it peeled, and I do NOT mean in a chemical peel kind of Freddy Kreuger freaky way, I mean, in a wintry dry skin that was easily remedied with a little Tate's moisturizer kind of way, I had new skin. New, NEW skin.  My old face back. I still get little patches of redness on occasion, but people don't even know I have rosacea any longer.  I have finally found my cure. I was determined to find a natural remedy to avoid being prescribed a lifetime of topical antibiotics.  I couldn't be happier.  The only problem is that rosacea sufferers are all different. What works for one person may not work for another.  I really hope and wish that this works for everyone.  I plan to keep spreading the word, just in case!

And NO (I know people will wonder) I do NOT spend a fortune on my favorite remedies at the natural food store every week.  And that is because the ones I need last simply forever.

I have purchased 4 tubes of Natralia since February at $13 a tube.  Much cheaper than most discount store skin care products.  And who knows how much I'd be spending on the medicated this and that they'd be selling me at the dermatologist's office?

I use a jar of coconut oil in about 2 weeks.  That does get expensive at around $11 a jar, but the long-term health benefits I will receive from my daily dose will be so very worth it,and, hey...some people spend money on beer and cigarettes every week.  It think my coconut oil is a good buy in comparison.

My nasal spray lasts for months and months.  I have been using the same bottle since August and it is just over the half-way level.  I know for a fact that it saves me at least $100 a pop at the drs. office before buying the first bottle of prescriptions, and started using it on the advice of the owner of one of my local natural stores who suffered from the same recurring problem I had until he started using the spray every day, decades ago.

I buy a $7 bottle of Aura Cacia peppermint in the organic section of my favorite grocery store every couple of months, and that is only because I am stupid and take the stopper out. I always end up spilling half a bottle.  Every bottle comes with a dollar off coupon.  That's $6 every few months. Between sets at the last concert I attended, I was divvying out drops of the stuff to those around me who were complaining of headaches.  I'm such a dork, but headaches were evaporating and people were very quickly becoming sold on the idea.  It really works, and I no longer go anywhere w/o my peppermint oil.

Elderberry juice concentrate is expensive, but one bottle will last us all winter.  I use it by the tablespoonful.

The ACV you can buy by the gallon or make yourself.

All my favorites are worth the money I spend and make me a healthier me.

Lavender Pink Himalayan Bath Salts

Lavender is one of my favorite aromas.  It can help to calm me through the most difficult situation.  I've also become a fan of Himalayan salt and its beneficial properties.  It is said to contain all the minerals that the human body requires.  I don't know if this is true, but it's all I cook with any longer.  It also makes a noticeable difference in my skin when I bathe with it or use Himalayan salt soaps.

I only use Aura Cacia brand lavender oil.  It and this brand's peppermint oil knocks my socks right off.  They seem, to me, to be more concentrated and potent than the expensive, pyramid scheme brand of oil I've tried, but have a natural herbal undertone to their scents without the imitation smell of the expensive brands.  From what I've learned, the higher priced companies may heat their oils after distilling to bring out the aroma, which could be why some peppermint oils have that inorganic Christmas tree candy cane scent.  Aura Cacia's is even mintier than the direct selling companies' oil, but still smells as if it comes from a plant.  I love it.  The aroma of their lavender oil washes over me and instantly brings calm.  It also lasts and lasts!  That saves me lots of money because I don't need to reapply it to my hands or surfaces as often as the less potent oils.

I get approximately 18 packages from one batch of my bath salts.  That's 18 baths!  Here is my simple little recipe:

Lavender Pink Himalayan Bath Salts
10 oz. pink Himalayan salt crystals
20 drops lavender essential oil
2 T dried lavender flowers

I use 1T per bath, and fill my little gift bags for the market with the same amount.

Can you say tension tamer?  Even mixing it is relaxing, like running your fingers through sea shelly beach sand.  But then the lavender aroma comes up into your face and...ahhhhhh....

I Feel So Good I think I Need To Get My Blood Checked

When I learned that I was pregnant a couple of months ago, I also found out that I was anemic.  It's not a good thing when the person running your blood to check your hemoglobin levels says, "OH!", when the number comes up.  I knew nothing about anemia except that it was bad.  I thought that maybe I should cook more of my food in a cast iron skillet to add iron to my diet.  What I didn't realize when she made her exclamation was that I had been anemic for a very long time, most likely years, other recently discovered health issues indicate, and that it was so low that it would be six to eight weeks of taking iron supplements and adding high iron foods to every meal before I would feel a change. 

The miscarriage only made things worse.  I miscarried for twelve days beyond the point when I had assumed that I had miscarried and told my family and friends that I had.  Almost two weeks beyond the follow up appointment with my doctor to discuss it.  It was an emotional and physical roller coaster, to say the least, waiting to see if I was still pregnant.  Blood tests continued to show high hCG levels and low iron, but ultrasound showed that a miscarriage was most likely imminent.

Needless to say, after all that, I wasn't feeling any better.  I guessed that I hadn't been able to improve my iron levels one bit.  The symptoms of anemia?  Fatigue, irritability, mood swings, lack of energy, trouble concentrating, restless leg syndrome, headaches, and the list goes on.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes. Yes. Yes.  Yes.  Yes. Me.  Most of them.  For years.  I truly thought I was just getting old.

I would fall asleep if I was riding in a vehicle anywhere near 3 in the afternoon, and avoided driving at that time of day.  I don't take naps at home, but my husband always teased me when he would see my head lolling around next to him as I rode in the passenger seat.  "Yup!  It's 3:00.  Ingrid's sleepy time."  I felt so old.  I could drive all night to get us to Florida if I started out from home, but I would never be able to drive for long periods of time in the middle of the day.  Add to this afternoon fatigue, nightly insomnia.  I was just miserable.  So unproductive, even thought I still kept trying to bulldoze through life.

My symptoms caused a lot of guilt.  I just wanted to be better, so a lot of times I overdid it.  I'd stay up all night to get a project done, rather than letting it go or pacing myself.  That, of course, only compounded my symptoms.  It never occurred to me that I was deficient in anything. I'm serious with my herb and mineral supplements.  Green tea.  Coconut oil.  Spirulina.  ACV.  All the things that were supposed to give me energy, keep my immune system running at top speed, and keep cancers and heart disease away.  I hadn't had my blood checked for over a decade.  Such a simple fix. 

Doing the GAPS diet and avoiding grains earlier this year didn't help, I'm sure.  Now I enjoy all the grains, and just avoid white sugar and flour.  I'm not very good at staying away from them completely, but I'm doing pretty good.  I eat like I'm still pregnant and keep taking my prenatal vitamins along with my iron, as directed.  I plan to be pregnant again as soon as my body will allow it, so these things are so necessary.  I don't avoid any one food, and after years of omitting this or that it's wonderful.  I've even started having that one cup of caffeinated coffee every day that nutritionists say is allowed, even though I quit caffeine years ago. That really helps take the edge off the sleepiness so I can get up very early and still be able to crash around ten at night.

But I really started feeling better last week.  I sleep like a baby every single night, now, and straight through. I don't know what iron pills have to do with a sound sleep, but I'm getting it and it's fabulous.  I finally have the energy that I've been craving and hardly anything can shake my good moods.  I still get a little sad and angry about not being pregnant, but only for moments.  The general good feeling is really nice and it's new and I'm only looking forward to feeling better.  "I want to yell it from the rooftop..."  I feel so good that I keep wondering if I should make an appointment to see if my iron levels are better. I'm really curious to know.

All Mixed Up

Some of the things on my To Do List for today...in order:

~Yoga
~Make Butter
~Kettle Bell
~Make Double Chocolate Biscotti
~Swiss Ball
~Make Pie Crust Dough

I love the contradictions that are my life.  They make me giggle.

Some People Just Need To Go To Goodwill.

I was sitting and reading a book with my first cup of coffee, morning chores done, sun shifting across the yard to shine on my breakfast room table, exactly where I like it, when a thought came to me.  The male character in the scene I was reading, who can only think scientifically because he has Asperger's, was wondering in his very technical manner how he could express himself to the girl he has come to understand that he loves, in spite of his emotional limitations.  He has had experiences with lots of girls, so doesn't need to worry about the mechanics of a physical relationship, but this one he wants to keep.

My thought?  Yeah.  I'm like William.  I try on people like clothes, and when they don't fit I toss them away.  

That's really sick.  Really just kind of mean and cruel, and I surprised myself with the realization.  But then I understood that I don't fit them, either.  I am not one for keeping clutter around, and pick and choose people in my life the same way I decide which garments stay in my closet and which ones need to go.  The ones that fit will always fit, no matter how I change, the same as some of my favorite dresses and blouses.  Fortunately, I haven't expanded and contracted so much over the years that they've been permanently pushed from my life.  If they don't fit the way I like at a certain point, and they are the kind that give and stretch a little and don't mind waiting for me to try them on again when I'm at a different place, I may look in the back of my closet and find that they are the most beautiful things I've ever seen.  I may wonder why I didn't just change a little to fit them rather than thinking that they no longer fit me.

Some I've torn into rags because I thought there was no hope for them, only to regret it the next minute.  Others get hastily shoved to the side as soon as I try them on.  Then there are those that just sit there, never being worn, until I wonder why I ever brought them home in the first place.  I have some that were given to me and I just keep them because, though I've never worn them, I've grown to love them and just like having them around.  They aren't clutter.  They've earned a special place.

Every once in a while I come across a piece of clothing that is so beautiful and genuinely good, maybe even made from organic, natural fiber, that I have to have it.  But it ends up being so uncomfortable to wear that it chafes.  People I find in this category I can't bring myself to part with.  Though they irritate me to no end, I just smile politely at them every chance I get and hope they never, ever suspect how badly they rub me the wrong way, and cross my fingers that others don't feel the same about me.

I rarely make frivolous clothes purchases, but try my best to care for what I have so that I can keep things I love around for as long as possible. There are always those one-time only garments, however.  Bridesmaid gowns, cocktail dresses, costume pieces, things that never get worn again. You only needed them for that one event and they were fabulous fun while you had them.  I love it when these "one-time-use people" come into my life.

I attend as many concerts as I can.  It's my thing.  It's not my husband's, so I usually go alone.  But always, as I stand in long lines to enter a venue, or at the foot of a stage waiting for the opening act to emerge, someone around me will introduce themselves and we hang out together enjoying the show for the remainder of the evening.  We usually exchange emails or I'll say yes, I have a Facebook when they ask, which I know they'll never find because I keep it private.  It was fun while it lasted, but it's so nice to know I never have to see them again.  I've tried them on. They fit only for that one occasion.   

Others I've tried on a couple of times, just to see if I'm looking at them from the wrong angle, only to decide that they've got to go.  My favorites you will see me wearing in countless photographs, the ones I love having around to wear every day, or just can't ever seem to part with. 

I don't think I'm being cold hearted, though that was my first thought when I realized that I "try people on", it's all about self-preservation.  I've had some spontaneously combust while I was wearing them!  You only let that happen once.  And sometimes I can feel the heat as soon as I get near a person and know they're going right to Goodwill.

He Had Me At COME UNDONE

  This boy's voice!  Okay, he's not a boy, but when you're as old as I am, anyone whose age is within a decade of your own son's is a boy.  Okay, he's out of that range, which makes it acceptable that someone my age might get tingly all over when he sings.  My point is that Matt Walst has a voice that can melt your heart or stir your blood.

It was a few years ago that I first heard this "boy's" voice.  His band, My Darkest Days, and two other bands were opening that very long, loud, fabulous night for Hinder, the headlining band.  I was intrigued, entertained, excited when MDD started playing, but when they did a cover of Duran Duran's Come Undone, I just about came unhinged.  I've been hooked on Matt's voice ever since, and fortunate to live in an area of the country where hearing him perform live has been easy.  Last year it was when MDD opened in Atlanta for Nickelback with Seether and Bush, and then again last night when he performed as front man for 

Three Days Grace.

Such a badass!

The post-apocalyptic Vegas themed set and body make up was awesome.  Lighting was amazing! 

 Matt had his stage persona down pat, absolutely pumping up the crowd every time he moved or opened his mouth. 

 He wasn't unprofessional, by any means, the first time I saw him perform, but last night he just seemed to have reached a whole new level.  And he appeared to love every minute of it.  

I think Adam Gontier's retirement was the best thing that could have happened for Matt, the band, and definitely for someone who is thanking her lucky stars to have one of her favorite voices paired with such impactful lyrics and powerful music.

Halloween Decorations

I found lots of creepy "decorations" in the woods on my morning saunter.  I love fall.  At 55 F with leaves already on the forest floor, it certainly felt like the second day of autumn.  The photos aren't very good.  My iPhone doesn't do miniscule detail well, but I still wanted to record them here.

Moss covered dead man's hand.

Zombie ears.

Hitchhiking creepy crawly.

When I shook off my hitchhiker I realized how I had picked him up.  Dangling by a thread.

Beautiful, but I'm sure, deadly, flowers. 

The Girl That Won't Shut Up. The Book That Writes Itself.

I always feel better when a writer, a real published author, talks about characters that won't shut up, as I am familiar with dialogue between characters that can wake a person in the night.  These characters must be heard and don't stop talking until they are.  The fact that others experience this same phenomenon, the brain working hard on something while its owner sleeps, may mean I'm not just completely loopy.  I'm hoping that's what it means, anyway.

I don't know if I'm any good, if I could ever have one of my novels published.  I really don't care.  But when writing becomes almost otherworldly I sit with my jaw hanging and just do what I'm "supposed" to do and scribble down what's being "said", always on paper because I'm such a slow, clumsy typist. 

Well, Novel 1 has been bothersome.  It's been going for my entire adult life and I just can't finish it.  I think maybe that I don't really want to.  Maybe it's just mine.  Something I use for practice, or as a creative outlet when others bore me.  Something no one else ever needs to see.

Novel 2 is my favorite.  I am passionate about every detail of this historical book.  Though I've put a lot of effort into getting the story told seamlessly, it's really as if it has written itself.  I come up with an idea, set a scene, add a detail, and it all fits in perfectly with the historical events that bracket my chosen time period.  I have basically reverse researched it.  All I've had to do is double check to make sure the lives and actions of my characters are appropriate to the time.  They always are with this book.  I don't know how or why.  I just trust that the story will get told.

Then there's the character who just won't shut up in Novel 3.  I don't even know who she is yet, I just write what's in her head.  What she sees, what she does, what she thinks, where she goes.  I had an eerie "encounter" with this girl the other day right on the X that marks the spot on the planet where the opening scene of Novel 3 takes place.  I didn't actually run into her, of course, but I swear it felt as if she had just turned the corner and hurried out of sight.  Where I was standing, where she is standing and moving through chapter one, was as familiar to me as if I had stood there before.  But I hadn't ever physically been there.  I had only seen the location through her eyes and an old 19th Century map.  And when my feet led me down the alleyway to the open plaza in which my story unfolds, I stood in utter amazement.  Everything looked just as it had when I was writing about it because I remembered what she was seeing.

The funny thing is that I had intended that afternoon to do the five minutes of picture taking and research I needed to finish Novel 2, as both have scenes that take place in the same historical city.  The girl from Novel 3 had other ideas, I guess.  She simply refused to be ignored.  Okay.  I "hear" you, Miz Priority One.

3 Little Things...Okay...One's BIG..

Um...let's see if I'm too prudish to post all three.  Here goes...

1.  I went to a Depeche Mode concert the other night.  My second.  I'm sooooooo spoiled to have even had the opportunity to hear that voice live once, but twice?  Lucky, lucky girl.  So glad all my old faves are a: still touring  b: still living

 2.  I sat, for just a moment, in one of my favorite places in the world, enjoying one of my favorite meals.  We were informed Saturday evening that my aunt's viewing was going to be the next afternoon.  That gave us just enough time to get to the funeral home to be with my family and pay our respects.  So even though we were wiped out from getting up at 4:30 a.m. to sell at the farmer's market, we threw our clothes in the car and drove all night. We spent two hours with my mother's side of the family and an evening and a breakfast with my dad and his wife.  Then we did what we always try to do, but never really have the time to fully enjoy.  We stopped in St. Augustine on our way out of Florida and practically ran down St. George St. to Columbia Restaurant for 1905 Salad.  Heaven! 

We "run" because St. Augustine is a 7 1/2 hour drive from our door, and any time we stop my husband must be at work the next morning.

We have done NOTHING this summer.  Nothing.  Haven't donned a bathing suit or even put a toe in the water. We obligated ourselves to sell every week at our local farmer's market, which left no time or energy for anything else, on top of the commitment I had made earlier in the summer to two families, cooking for them several times a week.

I was happy.  I loved it.  But then my husband started a new job 2 hrs. away...And then there was the miscarriage.  No fun.  I kind of just want to erase this past summer off the calender, but it was life.  It is what it is and I am still grateful for every moment of it.  Especially when I know we have simply joined the masses of people who never get a vacation, who don't have relatives who live in FL and work at Disney who can put them up and get them free passes, how we usually vacation.  Depeche Mode, 1905 Salad...all the holiday we needed.  And all crammed into one week.  So grateful for the escape.

And here we go.  #3.  I'm still a little shy to say it, but...

3.  My husband and I are putting in a wholehearted effort this weekend (giggle) to get pregnant.  Mow, Weed Eat, trim shrubs and trees...make a baby...  We have never had to try to get pregnant before so feel confident that everything on our to do list will get done.  Wish us luck!!!  Those trees really need pruning.

"House Cleaning" on 9-11

I feel so bad because I feel so good.  It's been a lovely, care-free, upbeat day.  No shadows or clouds following me around as I bee bop through the house doing the things I need to do.  But then I remembered that it was 9-11.  12 yrs. since that horrible day.

I'm supposed to pause and think.  Do you have any idea how much pausing and thinking I've been doing over the last few weeks?  I'm so sorry for the memory of all those lost and for their family members.  I'm still furious and I hurt for our country.  But I'm not going to do it today.  I'm just not.  I haven't forgotten.  I remember.  But I refuse to dwell on anything dark today.  If I do I'll sink.  I've been "cleaning" my house and ridding it of anything that makes me feel stressed, worried, or sad, and I'm just going to keep on feeling the sun shine in brighter and brighter.  Right on through 9-11. I can't forget, but I'm not going to let it freak me out this time.

That's okay, isn't it?

My Hands. Her Hands. His Hands.

So I spent part of my birthday with my mother.  This is an amazing thing when you consider that this is the first time in over 3 yrs. that I've decided on my own, without being asked by her, to visit.  The simple fact is that for the first time in my life she has earned my trust.  I trust her with my heart, I trust her with my children.  I've even trusted her with my cooking blog, which I was sure she'd rip apart with "constructive criticism".  She's only shown support.  This I am NOT used to.  But I'm accepting it and trusting that I'm not going to get hit upside the face with negativity when I least expect it.  I think, hope, as I always have, that it just won't happen.  It's a pretty big thing.  I think she really knows now not to mess with my kids, and though there have been times when she's been critical, I give them the are you okay? look and get a satisfactory answering nod and we skip right over it and try to enjoy her in all of her craziness.  She's crazy.  Absolutely bonkers.  And that makes for lots and lots of laughing. 

The single most critical healing episode in our relationship occurred this last Christmas Eve at my mother's house.  My husband, sons, and nephews were sprawled all over the living room and game room, even under the pool table, if I recall, fast asleep.  My stepfather was still crashed in the upstairs bedroom while my sis and her boyfriend were still in the guest bedroom, wiped out from our all night Monopoly game.  I was up early and then Mom came downstairs.  She made us coffee and then we took all of the German pastries we had out the night before to the dining room table and sat down and...talked.  Talked. 

We had never talked before.  It has always been a sore spot with me that the only mother/daughter talk we'd ever had in my life was when I was eighteen.  She'd told me that if she had to do it all over again she would have chosen to not have children.  I think in her mind she was giving me a fabulous bit of advice that no other woman from her generation would dare voice.  I know now that she was wishing at age forty with a preschooler that she had made other choices, and wanted me to explore my options and live my life before falling into the whole marriage/children "trap".  I knew this, understood where she was coming from, but I also understood her view on motherhood from a very early age.  She never liked it.

But here we were, sitting at the table sipping coffee together and TALKING.  I have subjects that I've promised myself are off limits with her, things we will never agree on that only make me feel bad, so I just steered us around those and it was lovely. 

Then we started talking a little in my message box on Facebook and have never stopped.  When she said something that just floored me, I saw that she is like me. She can write or type things that she could never say out loud.  Kind of like my little blog here.  I can't voice what I can bring myself to write here.   She typed in her message to me, "I have always loved you to the bottom of my soul!"  From day one as a mother, I have made it a point to make sure that my sons felt loved.  That I didn't just say it, but that they felt it without me having to open my mouth.  With her words I felt it, and I felt as if I finally had a real mom, rather than envying everyone elses. 

I bit the bullet and decided that since my dad was driving over to see me the day before my birthday to take me out for a birthday dinner, that I wanted to see my mom for my birthday too.  I rarely get to see my parents together since the divorce, so I figured that seeing them both in two days was as good as it gets.  And that's what I wanted for my birthday.

No monopoly, no vodka, or the usual Jack Daniels.  It was poker and mojitos at Mom's.  Oh my, we laughed until we cried...through the night.  And the whole time I couldn't stop looking at my mother's hands.  They were her mother's hands, but lacking the gnarled knuckles and bulging veins that my Oma earned with rough work.  Then I realized, as I looked down, that they were my hands.  The boys tease me and say that I look 28 until you look at my hands.  They are really showing my age and my knuckles are always nicked up this time of year from outside projects.  And, for the first time ever, I noticed a resemblance between me and my mother, a physical resemblance to her and her mother.  It was weird.  I don't look like her.  She has enormous, sparkling blue eyes like her mother.  I have my daddy's reddish brown hair and chestnut eyes.  But now I look down at my own and see my mother's hands.

Friday, I took my family with my dad and his wife on a Father's Day picnic.  My dad has never had to earn my trust or build a relationship with me.  He has never damaged ours so has never had to work to repair it.  We have been buddies since day one.  That was it.  Buddies.  I adore my father.   

We were standing on the river bank fishing when my dad walked past my son and me to give us the fabulous spot he found, going to find another. My son said, after Dad had moved on through the brush in his khakis, "Grandpa looks like someone you would see in The Walking Dead." I laughed and said, "Yup, that's my daddy. I wouldn't want to be in a zombie apocalypse with anyone else. We always said Indiana Jones reminded us of Dad. That's my daddy." He nodded, understanding completely. I love that my sons see how awesome he is too.  But then, when I was standing with Dad while we were tying fishing lures onto our lines,  I looked down at his hands.  They were my hands.  They were his father's hands.  I saw my hands and Grandpa's in them.  There were the same splotchy patches near the thumbs where his skin lacks pigment.  The same as my "reverse freckles".  

 Pretty cool.

Sensitive Mom, Sensitive Child

It helps to remember when things get difficult around here with my sensitive child, what it was like to be a sensitive 12 year old.  It was the worst year of my life.  Nothing that's ever happened since could be as traumatizing or defining.  It helps to remember, and thank goodness I remember like it was yesterday, but it doesn't always make it easy. 

We didn't have terrible twos or threes or fours.  It was tricky, especially before I learned about our personality type, but was never anything I couldn't handle with understanding, sensitivity, the occasional crack-down on absolute unacceptable behavior and a hug.  But I dreaded twelve with my little guy and here we are.  I can't help thinking, however, that it would be worse with a girl, for sure, because she would have been just like me, and that we could have had terrible twos, threes, and fours, but we didn't.  I also remind myself that an occasional bump in our road is nothing to worry about.

I could never call this The Terrible Twelves.  It just isn't terrible.  There are unpleasant moments that are few and far between.  I can live with that.  It will be okay.  He will be upset, but he will survive.  We will survive.  If I don't bail on him and hold his hormonal, sensitive kid outbursts against him, but remember what it's all about, we will be just fine.  If I take offense or don't look at the bigger picture but only in the moment of a frustrated outburst, I am stretching our bond-- that invisible rubber band that was created between each of my boys and myself that I promised from day one that I would never stretch or break.  Sigh.

Okay.  He has had a moment to calm down so I'm sure is ready to "need" his mama.  And in the words of Scarlet O'Hara, "tomorrow is another day".




Aw!  Sure enough.  My poor, sweet, little guy!  I love being the mom to these two precious boys.   Thanking my lucky stars for the privilege!

Now, I'm not a prude, but...

Thanks to a new series of commercials that seem to be flooding all channels at all hours of the day, my boys think there is such a thing as a vibrating condom and love to freak me out by going around singing, "Trojan Man!!!" 

Now, fortunately, they are both of an appropriate age and have had the safe sex talks and all the embarrassing (for Mom and Dad) questions answered that go along with such talks, and aren't toddlers who will go around from grandparent to grandparent repeating what they've been hearing on t.v.  Still.  Enough is enough.  Really.  I'm sure everyone that needs a condom this New Year's Eve knows where to find one and I feel that these commercials could at least be aired later in the day, not repeatedly in the middle of it when kids of all ages are home on Christmas break.  Though, I guess since they hand them out at school, I am just an old prude for not wanting my family bombarded with scenes of an overanxious couple at the pharmacy counter seeking protection and pleasure aids.  But if I hear "Trojan Man!" one more time in the middle of a family movie, I may just write a letter.  Seriously, this time.  I know I always say that, but I've got a pen and I'm not afraid to use it.  Better yet, I may just blog on the subject. 

It's A No-go As A Deo.

Well this is embarrassing...admitting that I'm an idiot and I stink.  My brilliant adaptation of a natural homemade deodorant seems to be lacking the deodorizing qualities I was looking for in a...deodorant. 

I just came in from my ridge top hike and then did 20 minutes on our elliptical machine thingy.  I stink.  Fortunately, there is a lingering beeswax/lavender scent intermingled with the stink, but I stink.  It didn't work.  I guess leaving out a few key ingredients, like baking soda and arrowroot, was a dumb idea.  I'm going to melt down one of my jars of goo and stir in baking soda to see if that helps.  The other I am leaving as is which, as it turns out, made a fabulous body butter.  My rosacea face seems to be happy with it too.

Going to take a shower now and then I'll be applying the "commercial stuff".

Natural Homemade Deodorant, Foot Lotion, Lip Balm, Rosacea Treatment...

I found a recipe for homemade deodorant last night when I was dealing with a bit of insomnia and had nothing better to do.  I wish I could find a recipe for an insomnia cure, but anyway, this recipe sounded promising.  It was from Homesteading Self Sufficiency Survival's Facebook page.  I can get away with using Himalayan salt crystals and solei in the winter for deodorant, but as soon as the weather warms up I have to go for the toxic, commercial stuff. So I am always in search of a natural solution for antiperspirant/deodorant. 

The "commercial stuff" that I was buying for my family, which used to contain titanium but not aluminum, is now made with aluminum.  Since I have seen firsthand how Alzheimer's can affect the mind, when my sweet grandmother was afflicted with the disease, I do what I can to avoid anything that has been suspected to be implicated in causing the disease.  Aluminum has been named as a culprit, but has been played down in recent years as a cause.  I am not taking my chances that in 10 or 20 years it will be renamed as a cause, and use aluminum freely in the meantime.  I avoid cooking in aluminum pans as much as possible, and rarely use aluminum foil.  When I do, I try not to let it come in contact with food.  Rubbing aluminum containing deodorant on my arm pits every day is out of the question.

This afternoon I took what was left of a bottle of almond oil, a jar of coconut oil, and the last drops of three bottles of lavender oil and combined them with a few drops of tea tree oil and a good 30 drops of grapefruit seed extract and a bar of beeswax to make a balmy lotion, using the deodorant recipe I found last night and my own for lip balm as inspiration. 

It worked for the rest of the day as a deodorant.  I will hike with it tomorrow to see if it can stand the test of some real perspiring.  Pretty picture, I know, but you gotta do what you gotta do.  Growing boys and young men aren't supposed to topically use lavender oil but if my homemade balm stands up to the back ridge hike for Mama, I may make a lavender-free version for them and see if we can get the "commercial stuff" out of the house for good.

Here is as close to the recipe as I can relate.  I eyeballed the whole thing and will try to duplicate it using this approximate recipe the next time, if it works out well. 

Homemade Beeswax and Natural Oil Deodorant

1/4 c. almond oil
10 drops lavender oil
1/2 c. unrefined, cold-pressed, virgin coconut oil
Block of beeswax (1/4 c., maybe?)
30 drops grapefruit seed extract
3 drops tea tree oil

Combine almond oil, lavender oil, grapefruit seed extract, and tea tree oil.  Shake well.  Heat coconut oil and beeswax over very low heat, swirling until wax melts.  I took it off the heat, periodically, and let the warmth of the pan and coconut oil melt the wax slowly so I wouldn't overheat the coconut oil and kill any of the beneficial properties of it.  Add the oils and stir until combined.  Pour into jars or molds and allow to cool completely.
I had intended to include baking soda in my recipe, as the original deodorant recipe called for, but completely forgot.

I have been using grapefruit seed extract and water for the last few weeks on my face rather than soap, cleanser, or the sulphur ointment I had been using for the last year and a half for rosacea.  It works well, but I am still experimenting with other natural ingredients, refusing to submit to lifelong use of topical antibiotics to treat my skin condition.  I basically don't wash my face anymore, just use the diluted grapefruit seed extract.  It's a bad time of year to experiment, though, because my rosacea is so mild in the colder months.  It's the humid, hot, sunscreen season that is so bad.  But I guess maybe I will get a more accurate test with new products by trying them in the winter.  I researched beeswax ointments before putting my new balm on my face.  Sounds promising.  It could go either way, though, since each individual rosacea sufferer differs from the next.  My face may mellow out or go completely haywire.  We'll see, I guess.

I did try it out by rubbing it all over after my bath, however, and my skin, especially my hands and feet, are butter soft.  No post shaving stinging under my arms like solei produces, either.  Nice!

I think I would try it anyhere but on my hair.  I don't think a beeswax based product would make a good conditioner.  You never know, though.  I may end up trying that too!
 


Update: 
Whoops!  Check out the results of my experiment.   It's a No-go As A Deo.

Again, he makes me cry. And this time in PUBLIC!

Okay.  This just about did me in, and in a crowded coffee shop, no less.  It doesn't help that I've probably been more inexplicably weepy the last few days than I've been in my life, but Single Dad Laughing's follow up post to Anything Other Than Straight just emphasized what I was thinking about when I read his coming out post.  And Then I Heard It actually had me holding my breath, sitting on the edge of my seat, biting my tongue and wanting to fix everthing for someone I don't even know.  LOVE unconditionally.

Commando-like Courage!

I think of all the things that I'm afraid of, silly things in my little life that take courage, and the little "problems" that keep me awake at night, and then I read something like this and realize what true bravery is.  Single Dad Laughing's newest post, Anything Other Than Straight.  I've already seen his courage in the posts, I'm Christian, Unless You're Gay and 16 Ways I Blew My Marriage, but his latest took some serious gumption to write.  When reading it, I was reminded again that I have no problems, no reason to be up worrying at night, nothing to complain about, no reason to feel uncomfortable in my own skin when there are people struggling so hard just to be allowed to say who they are. 

I am fed up with the ridiculous notion that homosexuality is a choice.  I think that anyone who believes that has never had a conversation with someone who is gay.  As a straight an as arrow female who was always attracted to the opposite sex, I never understood homosexuality until I did open my mind and begin conversing on the subject, right from the source.  The act of homosexuality literally turns my stomach because I am not gay.  But that doesn't mean it isn't real!  Heterosexuality may seem just as revolting to a person of same-sex orientation.  I soon began to see it from another point of view when a homosexual co-worker told me that even though he had been in a relationship with his partner for 20 years, he still couldn't tell his parents because his father would have disowned him and his mother would have keeled right over from a massive heart attack, the shock would have been so great.  As a mother, this was one of the most heartbreaking things I had ever heard.  Of course I would want my children at any age to be able to come to me with anything.  Of course I would accept them for who they are no matter what.  How sad that some parents have conditions.

Then I imagined how it would feel if the majority of people were homosexual and if homosexuality was the "norm" and heterosexuals were expected to conform, to pray the straight away as homophobes expect homosexuals to "pray the gay away".  Could I force myself to be a homosexual to fit into society and keep my family happy if that were the norm?  No way.  How ridiculous is that?! Celibacy would be my life choice and I'm sure it would be a sad, miserable, fearful life to hide what I really felt.  I can't do that to anyone else, so even though I'm straight, I can't think less of someone who courageous enough to face criticism for living their true lives.  I don't think anyone should.  And I don't mean that I "love them anyway".  I'm sick to death of such statements, I mean that I really get it.  I can never relate, but I see it.  What I mean is that everyone should take another look and really see what your Bible says about it if that's the premise you are so adamant to stand on concerning homosexuality.

And anyone who wants to quote Leviticus to me (yes I've read 18:22 and studied the entire book) should read every verse to gain understanding, particularly chapters 18-20.  Along with famed "thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind" is the law that menstruating women should not be approached but separated from all of society because they are unclean, two different seeds should not be planted in the same field, any man with any blemishes such as "a flat nose", "blind", "broken handed", "a dwarf", "scabbed" were not to be allowed to make an offering to God, hair and beards were not to be trimmed, no marks or cuttings upon the body were to be made, no garment was to mingled of wool and linen, and if you planted a fruit tree you were not to even dare eat the fruit for three years. 

So...until people quit cutting their hair and shaving, stop square-foot gardening, wearing wool blend clothing and hanging earrings from holes in their ears, noses, lips, whatever, and women start "going to the river" every month because they are "unclean" I don't think they should say one word against homosexuality.  A beard trim is apparently as much an abomination to God as homosexuality.  It is what it is.  And for those who want to preach all day, the Bible states what it states.  You can't focus on one portion and ignore the rest.  Well I guess you can if you want to and there lies the problem.

So why these days in modern times do we trim beards and hair, square-foot garden, wear wool blends, put holes in our ears to dangle earrings from, when they were all marked as abominations in the Old Testament?  You could say that the old ways are no longer relevant.  You could say, if a Christian, as evangelicals preach every day, that when Christ sacrificed himself for mankind, the need to follow the old laws was eliminated.  So what of homosexuality?  I don't know.  I just refuse to believe that someone of a homosexual orientation is sinning by being who they were made to be by the same creator that made me, and I applaud the commando-like courage it takes for anyone to stand for what they believe and say "This is who I am!".

Single Dad Laughing had this married mom sniffling in her coffee this morning.  BRAVO!! 

"BE FEARLESS"

It's been a very fearful week for me, for one reason or another (and another), but I happened to have ordered this necklace around a week and a half ago from a friend who sells jewelry.

I spent my entire day in fear, but combatted it by devoting my time to designing a logo and website for my business, setting up Twitter and Facebook pages along with a separate email for the business, and setting up my Elance profile.  I was just about to click save on the Elance profile, with all kinds of thought attacks running through my head-- you aren't qualified, you don't have the education, you don't have the experience to put yourself out there, someone's going to hire you then you'll realize you can't do the job-- when my husband came in with a little box from the mailman. 

There it was, my little note to self, the necklace and charms I had ordered days and days ago.  I had chosen the charms "be" and "fearless" as a daily reminder, and the New Jade stone dangle because it is said to have "immense powers in mental healing".

How nice to be rewarded for all my hard work today, and at the exact moment I needed the encouragement.  I know what I can do, what I have done over the last year, and what I am doing now.  I just need to have the courage to cast my line in the direction of the circling fish and not be afraid that if I hook one, I won't be able to reel it in. 

Ghost Riders

Tonight I am thankful for Johnny Cash.  When I was growing up, my mother was often out socializing with friends.  We loved it when she was gone or having a party at our house, because it meant rides in my dad's little car, Herbie, to the corner store for ice cream sandwiches, a Three Musketeers bar, or root beer float making ingredients.  Sometimes it meant trips to play putt putt golf or to the go-kart track, but, most often, my dad would pull out his guitar to sing and play for us. 

I loved when he would sing Puff the Magic Dragon, and sang along with him about Little Jackie "Paper", thinking that was the boy's name.  I always felt like crying when Puff would "sadly slip into his cave".  On top of being my absolute favorite person in the world, my dad had a beautiful singing voice, and I loved those times.

Along with Puff, there was the story of Charlie stuck on the train.  He didn't have the required nickel, or maybe it was a dime, to get off the train, so his wife just handed him sandwiches when the train passed his stop.  My husband always asks when I tell him of  this song, why his wife didn't just hand him money to get off the train. I shush him, of course, before he can ruin one of my favorite childhood memories.  Some things just don't need fixing! 

There were other folk songs that my dad would sing, like Where Have All the Flowers Gone.  He loved Peter, Paul, & Mary and The Mamas and the Papas.  I'm sure he still does.  I wish I could remember all the songs he would sing.  He is a fabulous musician.  His father was a trumpet player, supported his family that way, in fact, and also played the piano very well, as well as the banjo, guitar, and mandolin.  As a result, Dad and his brothers and sisters became great singers and musicians.  Our family get togethers were usually centered around music.

And it's just occurred to me.  Could this be where my live music addiction began?  Why I stand mesmerized below the stage at concerts, fascinated by a guitarist's fingers rapidly plying the strings?  I still don't get it.  I've tried and tried, and though dad has always assured me by telling me that once my fingers develop calluses, guitar playing will be much easier, I never take the time to practise enough to develop them and learn to play, so have great respect for those who are disciplined enough to make incredible sounds come from a stringed instrument. 

Coyle Girreli of The Chevin.  10-24-12, The Orange Peel, Asheville, NC

But, to return to the point of this ghostly post, I was lying here watching The Bridges of Madison County and trying to fall asleep while fighting an ear infection.  I had a crushed garlic water soaked cotton ball in my ear, which burned like the Dickens and was doing a very good job of keeping sleep at bay, and before I knew it, the movie had ended and a Johnny Cash special had come on.  Joaquin Phoenix is one of my favorite actors, so when he made Walk the Line, I learned all about the late singer and have developed a soft spot for Johnny and June and the love story surrounding them.  I am still more familiar with Joaquin's versions of Johnny's songs, however, so any time I have the opportunity hear Johnny sing his songs, I am in awe of how well that Joaquin boy really did imitating his voice and mannerisms.   

In tonight's television special, Johnny did Folsom Prison Blues, Ring of Fire, then...oh wow.  I forgot that was a Johnny Cash song, Ghost Riders In the Sky.  I immediately began hearing my dad's voice rather than Johnny's, because another of my favorites that Dad would sing to us was Ghost Riders In the Sky. He had a beautiful tenor voice for the yippee ay yays, but could also really hit those low notes, spot on.  Such a nice memory!

We're all camping together in a couple of weeks, those of us from my dad's side of the family, and we are planning on celebrating our Cherokee roots with a little family pow wow.  I'm sure Dad will be pulling out his harmonica and guitar.  If so, I can't imagine anything better than sitting next to the fire while he sings Ghost Riders.  So, while I am very thankful for my wonderful father, tonight I am counting Johnny Cash in my 30 Days of Thanks for bringing me such a comforting memory.  And now to get this dadgum cotton ball out of my ear so I can sleep.  "It burns, burns, burns..."