Monday, March 17, 2014
St. Patrick's Day always is a poignant time for me. My grandfather was born on St. Patrick's Day in 1882.
Daddy Bill stepped in the place of my father when I was only three. His entire life was devoted to my mother and me. He bought my first coloring set. He Saw me through appendicitis when the surgery was life threatening. He encouraged me to go to college. Above all, he loved me. I miss you, Daddy Bill.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Moving to Florida from Las Vegas meant a complete change of medical providers. Today was the first meeting with my new primary care doctor. So----- Fasting blood work, Hip Xray, Electrocardiogram, Mammogram, medical history interview, all in one day. It seems like a lot, but because I have to depend on my daughter to taxi me around, I wanted to squeeze as much as I could in one trip. Is it any wonder that my BP shot up to 175! A second reading after sitting quietly was down to 134.
Well, safely at home with a cup of tea, I am ready to unwind. The results of all these tests will be in next week and I am keeping a good thought.
Monday, June 03, 2013
This morning I took a short walk around my daughter's garden here in Florida. It was so fresh after the thunderstorm last night. One of the bushes had the first Mystery Gardenia opening up. I couldn't resist and picked one of the blooms.
I put the blossom in a small container here in my bedroom where I do most of my computer chores and forgot about it. Later this morning after breakfast and stationary biking I sat down to do some work on my book.
As I worked, I became aware of a warm feeling of contentment coming over me. Sitting back, I wondered if it was due to the subject matter. The work was just flowing! Was it the sunlight shining through the window? No. Maybe those minutes I spent in meditation and prayer this morning were still with me. Undoubtedly.
But then, I became aware of the delightful lemony fragrance of that gardenia, and I began to reminisce about the many times that fragrance was important to me. My first corsage at a formal dance. The white orchid and gardenias at the senior prom. Gardenias and tulips in my wedding bouquet. The single gardenia my husband brought to me in the hospital when our first son was born. And it goes on through the years.
Fragrance is such a powerful stimulant, depending on our relationship with it. Some odors can make me feel ill, sad or very happy. My neighbor can't stand the smell of gardenias or stock blossoms because she associates them with the funerals of her mother and father.
Since I have been thinking about the landscaping of the house being built here, this morning gave me some ideas. My personal fragrance garden will have roses, gardenias, jasmine, lavender, narcissus, magnolias and I would love violets but I am told they will not grow here. Thanks for experiencing with me and perhaps you will think about the fragrances that have meaning for you.
Saturday, May 11, 2013
" Wait in the car, Mom, while I run into the market."
" Don't get up, Mom, I'll get your tea!"
" We are going for a hike this morning but I'm afraid it will be too much for you, Mom."
"We kids have decided you need a cleaning service, They are coming Monday!"
"Don't bend down to pick up that, I'll get it."
"You are having trouble getting up out of your chair. How about one of the recliners with an automatic lift."
And so it goes! Too much love and concern are making an invalid out of me!
Four years ago the family decided that living alone in my big two story house in Florida was too much for me and I should move to Las Vegas and stay with my daughter and son in law. It is a lovely home, but all of the activities I used to do have gone away. No house cleaning. No driving. No gardening or yard work. etc. My only activity seems to be a bit of walking and some exercise routines which I often skip because it hurts.
Well things are changing, hopefully for the better. I am moving back to Florida, building a smaller house next door to my youngest daughter where I will have some responsibilities and independence again.
I know that I am blessed with a caring and loving family. So many seniors do not have this kind of support. I just feel the need to be of some value and not a burden to those loved ones. I will have the space for the things I love that have been in storage. Room for my painting and writing. A yard where I control what is planted.
So, my spark friends, I will try to keep you informed as this major change takes place. You prayers are so appreciated.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
It was 1959 and I was badgering my grandfather to quit smoking. I scolded and pleaded, using all of the arguments from the Surgeon General including the danger of lung cancer, heart problems, coughing, etc.
He listened patiently and then told me one of his stories. It was 1906. He and his little family consisting of wife, and two year old daughter were living in the Mojave Desert on a mining claim miles from the nearest town. Their supplies came in by train once a month, and it involved an all-day wagon trip to the train depot.
Like most men at that time he smoked hand-rolled cigarettes and a pipe. The Bull Durham tobcco came in a little cotton sack with thin cigarette papers that had to be filled with tobacco and rolled into a cigarette. It took some skill to roll an acceptable smoke.
As the time between train shipments passed, most supplies dwindled down and there was no way to replace them until the next train arrived, "Daddy Bill's Bull Durham included.
Finally, the day arrived when he was down to his last sack of tobacco and the train was over a week away. "Emma," he said "this is a nasty habit and not worth the bother and agravation. I'm going to quit!"
Of course, in 1906, he had no idea of the health issues. Smoking was an accepted practice enjoyed by most men. (just watch some of the classic movies) Fortunately, the ladies of the time were not included. Therefore, his incentive to stop smoking was the inconvenience, not his health.
Decision made, the easiest and surest way to quit was to remove the temptation. How did he do it? Well, he went hunting early every morning and when he hiked up to the highest ridge, he tossed the contents of his last sack of tobacco to the winds. By that afternoon, he was regretting his action. The next day, he was desperate. The following day found him searching on his hands and knees for any bits of tobacco that might be caught at the base of bushes and rocks. Unsuccessfully, he added.
Finally, the train shipment came in and with it his supply of Bull Durham. Chuckling, Daddy Bill told me, "So you see, Nadine, I did quit smoking for over a week, and never tried to do it again!"
I decided to share this little Vignette from the stories I am writing about the years my grandparents and great grandmother spent at the California Gold and Copper Company Mine in the Mojave Desert 1906-1915.
"Daddy Bill's experience with trying to quit smoking seems pertinent to the efforts some of our Sparks members are dealng with today. He didn't have the information or assistence now available and failed in his attempt. Such is not now the case. It is possible to stop smoking and probably one of the most important changes one can make.
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