Sick

I hate being sick. 
And with divertiulosis, I get sick every now and then.  Maybe once a year. 
I thought I was catching it early.  I thought wrong.  No hospital, but I have to admit the idea had a great deal of merit last night.  I seem to be one of those that think "If I can hang on just a little longer it will get better".  And it seems to have done that.  Now, rather than being at 30%, I think I can boast being at 50%. 
Big whoop.
TV holds no interest.  The computer is something I can look at only so long.
And I get bitchy and whiney.  I have to pry myself off the pity pot with thoughts like "Other people are worse off than you" or "At least you don't have ... (fill in the blank)".

I take baths.  Somehow the water takes away the nausea and most of the headache.  Helps diminish the pain.  George comes in and looks at me.  He gets worried.  Not sure if it is the amount of water being used or the fact I am sick and silent.

Sigh.

Time for a bath.

Kitchens

We are painting our kitchen.  Tile backsplash going up and a new counter top at some point.  Maybe even flooring.  Doing this brings out some insecurities believe it or not.  Not in my cooking but in my view of what looks good.  George wants to use what we have on hand.  That is good and it is certainly cheaper.  But it does not necessarily go with what I had in mind.  That is where the insecurity comes in.  Do I settle and go for what is immediate and cheap?  Do I push for what I want and not know exactly what it will look like when all is said and done?
Right now we have yellow/gold paint.  Something I can live with.  A green cabinet (my choice).  But the steps after that? 
Still under discussion.

Fourth of July

I think I had my July 4th one day earlier this year. 
It wasn't the fireworks display.  Although it was pretty good.  Held a day early so everyone in this town could attend and tonight then go one town over tomorrow night to see yet another display.  Works to everyone's advantage that way.
It wasn't grilling outside.  We did that last night.  Will do it again tomorrow night (actual day).
It was the meal we had at lunch.
Let me give a little background.  George preached at another church this morning. Happened to be a UCC in a small town 20 miles away.  He gets called now and again to preach in UCCs.  Their social views and his match pretty well and the man can talk.  Quite well and the congregation gets a good sermon and good message.  Anyway, we were invited out to lunch afterwards.  To the Convenient Store.  Not the convenience store.  Note the spelling.  The C-O-N-V-E-N-I-E-N-T Store.  They have kind of a combination diner/gas station/ fill yer pop/ get your oil type service going on.  Seems to be the place to be on Sundays after church.  George was even warned if his sermon went past 11:30 there was the possibility of people leaving so they could get a table for the Sunday special. 
Really.  He was told that could happen.
Anyway, today's special was chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy (gravy was mentioned on the white board), a vegetable bread and a dessert.  Seriously.  What could be more USA then that?  Chicken made to look like beef and fried.  Taters and white gravy, canned green beens, store bought bread and mini cream puffs (the kind you find at Chinese buffet dessert bars). 
Everybody was there.  It was  THE place to be!  The chatter over who had what going on for the holiday....  The new preacher did a nice job....  They are a different looking couple, but seem nice.... Getting the old grill out tonight....  Where did you say that fireworks show was going to be????
And it struck me how very country and really wonderful it all was.  No pretense.  It just was.
The husband of the couple talking and just dropping into the conversation he had cancer and how others had pitched in to help with harvest when he wasn't feeling top notch.  The potatoes were especially good and did we know the center of the state was just down the road in someone's front yard.  Big stone marker.  Another one just across the road denoting an old school too.  Do you think it is going to rain?  Boy, we sure could use it.  I always like green beans.  Just can't get enough of them.  Talk of the difference between the oil field and farmers from way back when.  His family always in farming and ranching. Always. 
Mine in oilfield, bootlegging and sales. 
Never the two shall meet and yet today it did not matter.
The salt and pepper sat on all the tables and it was expected to be used.  Can't get the gravy just the way every one person likes it. 
All over chicken fried chicken at the Convenient Store. 
Happy 4th of July, one day early.

Just Because I am the Mom....

It is 11:00 on a Saturday night.  I am waiting to hear from a daughter that will not be home tonight.  She is off visiting with family she did not know about until recently.  And therein lies the problem.  Until recently we were mom and dad.  She was our daughter.  We raised her during very turbulent teen years.  Then she was gone for a long time.  We heard from others how she was doing.  When there were children.  When there was a divorce.  When moves took place.  All the while, we kept the door open.  Hoping she would come back.  That contact would be made in good time and when she was ready.  George and I knew it would not be easy for her. 
Finally, contact was made.  Through the infamous Facebook, she contacted the girls.  Finally, she contacted me.  She was able to see the love never stopped just because she was gone.  She was still wholly accepted.
It has been good.  George and I met grandchildren and loved them from the start. 
Now comes new family.  Those until a few months ago not known.  New and shiny in her eyes.  Excited to be the center of attention.
I have to step back and be the stable one and wait.  To be there to pick up pieces if need be.  To be understanding and loving, ready and compassionate.
There are times when being the adult and the mom can really suck.

Period

On Sunday, it will have been 23 years since I gave birth to our daughter.  We were not married at the time and the situation and timing were less than ideal.  I was a single mom for a while and we all struggled. 
That said, I thnk being a mom then was easier than being a mom today.  When she was little, I was the center of her universe and I was right in my decisions, actions and advice.  Now?  Not so much. 
Then we did not have a huge amount of choice in what we could or could not do.  Now, the choices and actions are no longer mine.
Would I go back?   Nope, nope, nope.  Not for a minute.
Do I despair now?  Nope, nope, nope.  It is differerent.  The hard thing is having to be quiet.  To not offer unsolicited advice. To watch a mistake being made and know the call will come in the middle of the night "Mom?  What do I do?"  And then have to help pick up pieces. Throw into the mix a grandson that is the apple of my eye.
Was I this way at 23?  Probably.  Something that ticks me off even more.
Hell, there are probably days a  almost 50 I am that way.  My folks are probably watching a shaking their heads.
What it comes down to is this.  Twentythree years ago, I looked at my newborn daughter and promised I would do everything needed for her and more.
No regrets.
I love her.  Period.

Foward Ho

In less than a week we venture towards Colorado to meet grandchildren.  A trip George and I are really looking forward to and, so we have been told, are the kids. 
A bit of background.  Eighteen years ago a 13 year old girl came to live with us.  The baggage she brought was pretty immense for an adult let alone a scared and lonely girl.  She stayed with us for 5 /12 years.  We offered to adopt but her choice was no.  That was okay.  George and I stated she was our daughter.  My father had a new granddaughter and children we had by natural means had a sister.  Even though she slipped from our everyday life for a while, Mary was never out of our hearts.  A couple years ago she came back.  Alot had happened in the time she was gone.  4 children, many experiences both good and bad.  But she is back in our lives. 
And now we get to meet her children.  Our grandchildren.
The emotions going through me are overwhelming.  Sometimes to the point I want to just weep.
Imagine.
We love them and have yet to see them.

Just a little slower now.

MyI have been away from blogging for a long time. Just did not feel keenly about the process. Lost a sense of why.
Well, now I am back and focusing for another time.
It is now summer with a month off for recharging.  Painting and gardening.  Traveling a little and mostly making sure I spend time with my husband.  Sounds kind of cheesy doesn't it? 
Let me explain.  My husband is 28 years older than I am.  Our "lifetime" together by the nature of our ages could be much shorter than some.  Means we need to make our time double.
Age has reared it head.  George says better than the alternative. 
Hmmmm.  But it does make one pause, reflect. 
Knees and backs hurt more.  Illness tends to come on more it seems.  Lines are a little deeper.
Yet, when I look across the room and see my husband  enter, my heart still skips a beat.  A smile still comes across.  I don't necessarily see the age.  The man I fell in love with 26 years ago is still there. 
Thanks be to God.

Passing

I went to the funeral of an uncle yesterday. He had been ill for a time and all viewed it as a blessing when he passed. I saw family I had not seen for some time and catching up was pleasant.
My next older sister and her husband also attended. George and I sat with them and this was probably not our wisest choice. You see, Katherine and I are friends, not just sisters. When we get together it is as though we have never been apart and the banter starts. So does the giggling. Funeral giggles, never appropriate. Very obvious.
Throw into the mix that George was asked to say something about my father's family.
I don't think we will be allowed back.

Basketball

We are a house divided. George is KState. Me? I am KU. Nice good liberal place. We have spent the last week watching basketball. Not normal for us, but a lot of fun.
Tonight was no different. All I can say?
KU basketball: Kicking ass, taking names, and being immature little shits all at the same time.