Transitions

As the year 2010 winds down to its last days, I can't help feeling I am staring at a double barreled shotgun wondering which trigger will be pulled.  That my friends is how I feel about 2011.  Time was, I looked forward to the New Year with great anticipation, wondering what new adventures awaited me.  What would this new year bring?  For a lot of years things went pretty smoothly.  Then someone moved my cheese if you know what I mean.

Taken from my comfort zone, I tried to adapt to living 2400 miles away from everything that meant anything to me (save for my husband).  During the last six years we have been given a number of hurdles, some of our own making, others not so much.  This past year has been exceptionally trying.  We moved closer to Michigan with a job relocation, I had a "mini stroke", I celebrated my 60th birthday, Sam was diagnosed with head and neck cancer..Sam spent the whole summer in Rochester, MN for treatments and so on and so forth,as my Dad would always say when trying to make a point.

This probably comes off sounding bitter to some, but I am not.  There are lessons to be learned from this and we learned them very well.  Sounds like a song doesn't it?  "Red Rubber Ball" actually.  But I digress.  My problem is that I wished I had listened more to my inner self than trying to prove that I could be a woman of the world.  Oh yeah, move? People do it everyday.  I can do it.  Never mind if I want to or not.  Not thinking things through has always been my downfall.  I never want to disappoint anyone  by telling them no.  I had five long years to think about that one.

Recently one of my dearest friends lost her first born Grandchild in a car accident.  She is shattered as is the rest of the family.  There is something about your first born grandchild and the bond that forms between you.  I can't explain it, but it is there, especially Grandma and Grandson.  This horrible tragedy  just days before Christmas spoke to me in a way that little else does anymore.  Something or someone whispered in my ear to relax and be at peace with everything and everyone around me.  Don't try to be in control of the entire universe.  I wish I did have some magic power where I could bring Christopher back to Deb and the Family, but I don't.  All I can do is grieve with them and appreciate what I have been given for as long as God sees fit.

Sam and I were discussing how our Christmas's had changed over the years.  Ever since the Grandkids came along we have always wanted to be with them when they woke up Christmas Morning and see them open their gifts.  It was easier to do when they were younger and we lived closer.  This year I didn't feel like I had to break the bank and buy out the stores, so I set an amount and Addie got one present and Max got two for the money alloted.  We arrived at their house after they had opened all their gifts and they loved our presents.  It felt good not to be tied to traditions that don't make sense anymore.  Instead of seeing change as endings, we chose to look at them as  transitions.  Our lives are transitioning.  We pass the mantel to others.  Our Son now hosts the Christmas Celebration, we focus on the meal rather than gifts.  We bask in the warmth of Family and Friends and live in the now.

After Christmas dinner, my Brother and Sister-in-law took Mom home so Sam and I could stick around a little longer with my Son and family.  What did we do?  Nothing, just sat and enjoyed watching them be a family.  Max and his Dad installing a new motherboard in his computer, Addie sketching in her Project Runway book,  just being with them felt like a gift.  We left there feeling very happy and blessed.

 I am still very leery about what is in store for 2011, but I can't stop it, I can only enjoy what is going on right now.  I must live next year one day at a time.  Happy New Year everyone!

Who's In Charge Anyway?

Last night while channel surfing, I came across a familiar, yet not quite right picture on the screen. In front of the White House Press Conference sign stood former President, Bill Clinton, trying to explain why he thought the deal worked out by President Obama and the Republicans was the best solution for everyone right now. On one hand this shows that President Obama is willing to bring in whomever it might take to convince the Democratic Congress that this is the best they are going to get. On the other hand, it is a rotten shame that the President could not accomplish this himself. Instead of coming out and telling us "Look, this is killing me, but I am trying to fight everything that I stand for, to inch to the center and find some common ground with my opponents, to keep some semblance of control.", he does it with symbolism, by bringing in the Democratic President that went to the center after a "shellacking" he took in mid-term elections, and left office with a surplus budget. Then to top it off leaves Clinton by himself so he can attend a Christmas Party! Talk about subliminal messages. How's that for distancing yourself?   "Listen to him people."

Clinton is loving this, all of a sudden his claim to fame won't be the guy who couldn't keep it in his pants, it will be the guy who brought the country together and saved the Presidency of Barack Obama..

Kudos to the President for reaching across the aisle in an attempt to hammer out a deal with the GOP in extending the current tax rates that are set to expire on January 1st. Shame on the Republicans for holding the country hostage for not getting exactly what they wanted. A pox on the Democrats for not showing a united front with their leader at a time when he needed it most. This whole thing makes my hair hurt.What does it say when a President has to fight his own party to keep the economy going? To me it says that everyone in Washington D.C. is out of touch with what is going on everywhere in the country.

I voted for the President, thinking he was a Centrist, only to find that he was the same if not worse than the politicians that preceded him.  Had I known anything about Chicago politics prior to election day, I would have thought twice.  He is captive to the big money that put him in office, just as the House and Senate leaders are.  He is coming off as being weak.

While I admire a President who is a family man, he is the leader of the free world and should not let his wife dictate his presence at a Christmas party when the country is in such dire straits.

Smiles

During this Thanksgiving season, out thoughts go to counting the many blessings of the past year.  Our family has been the recipient of many.  Yet there are so many families suffering this holiday season, losing their jobs and homes, it is difficult to enjoy.

So what I try to do is look for little things that make me smile.  It is hard to find here in the Chicago area.  People barely look at you in the grocery stores or malls.  Starbucks, which is a sure fire smile factory in the Pacific Northwest, is a real buzz kill here.  Seems no one has time to be civil, if they don't know you.  My dog Waylon Jennings can get people to smile, because he looks like he is smiling all the time, so we go for a lot walks.

Thinking back it is easy for me to remember smiles.  Rocking out in the car with Max and Addie to the song "Dynamite"
 "

" Put your hands in the air, put your hands in the air!  Addie commenting on my Chris Botti CD with "really, Grandma?!"  When Max was three years old, pulling out of our driveway giving me the thumbs up and saying "thumbs up Grandma!"  Two year old Addie wandering around our yard with Waylon in tow saying,"Come on Waylon, we've got work to do!"  Friends that pop back into our life after thirty odd years.  If we just take time to pay attention to the little things that make us smile, it helps us appreciate the richness in our lives.

I am truly rich in what really matters.

The Not So Incredible Shrinking Woman Joins The YMCA

Okay, it's time to kick this exercise stuff into high gear.  The holidays are coming and I would like to get down another size by Christmas.  Sounds impressive and intentional doesn't it?  As usual  with me that is not the case.  A couple of weeks ago my Husband was researching health clubs and decided to join the Y.  When he signed up, he got a family membership.  I told him that I probably would not use it as I run on the treadmill upstairs and didn't want to spend the extra money.  Then I started reading the program guide and found an aerobics class that had dance, toning and stretching that was free to members.  So I called the Y and signed up for the M/W/F class at 9:10 a.m.- 10:10 a.m..  Sunday I ventured out to do a dry run on finding the place, (super easy), signed the waiver and got my photo I.D.  So I was now a card carrying member of the Buehler YMCA.  I ask for directions on where the class is and am told to zig zag around the hallways until just before I get to the basketball courts, on the right behind the glass door is the studio for the class.  Easy enough I say and go home feeling like I have covered all my bases so as not to look like a newbie when I get there on Monday.

Monday comes and I am a bit apprehensive, but I have covered all the bases and tell myself to relax, there will be other people starting the classes. I continue to be amazed at how many people take advantage of the facility.  The parking lot is packed at 9:00 in the morning.  I find a spot to park, take a deep breath and head for the building.  I check in, they ask me if I know where I am going and I say I think so, the gal at the desk goes over the directions one more time and I hurry off.

As I wend my way through the maze of hallways, the place is buzzing with activity.  How great, I think to myself.  I enter the studio where the class is held and notice that everyone has two mats on the floor criss-crossed with their shoes off.  Okay, I introduce myself to the instructor Terry and mention I am new to the class.  She welcomes me and I get a couple of mats and find a place in front to set up.  When class starts we start with a warm up (pretty standard), the music is very soothing, I don't seem to have a problem.  But I notice she is mentioning  positions like the downward dog.  Oh oh me thinks something is amiss.  Oh God, could I be in the wrong class?  Shit.  Why does this always happen to me?  So...as nonchalantly as possible I approach Terry and matter-of-factly ask if this is the F.I.T. class and she responds that no, that is down at the very end of the hallway.  Okay, how to sneak out without drawing too much attention to my dumb ass? Well that's not going to happen, so I roll up the mats and get the hell out of there, running down to my class that has already started.

My heart sinks as I approach the group and they are in full aerobic swing.  It strikes me as being very comedic.  I feel like Carol Burnett or Lucille Ball, trying to act like I know what I am doing and always being one or two steps behind.  Doing double taps, grapevines and shuffles to the loud music.  I should've stayed in the yoga class I think to myself, at least I could keep up with them.  All of a sudden I feel very old and awkward.  Not mention it brings back all sorts of  memories of the early 80's and leg warmers and spandex.  Jesus, I'm tired already.  When we finish the aerobic portion of the class, everyone walks over to pick up their mats and weights, except for me because I didn't have any.  A lovely lady, thankfully about my age, comes over to me and introduces herself as Judy, one of the instructors in the class, and she goes with me to pick up a mat and some weights.  I thank her and she mentions that she noticed I was doing pretty well on the routine, to  which I just about choked, mainly because I couldn't breathe and my throat was parched.  No need for water now, I was just about dead.

We got through the crunches and the pli'es  with weights and I'm thinking if I can get through to December 18th I may not look too bad.  But as I am writing this my knees are beginning to ache. ( Nothing a couple of extra strength Tylenol won't fix.)  It is going to be long six weeks.  But you can bet your sweet bippy that next class, I will have my mat, my weights, a water bottle, and show up at the right room just like I'd been doing this forever.

Let's Hear It For The Girls

The other day I was reading a Time Magazine article regarding women in the priesthood.  That's right, women in the priesthood, in the Catholic Church.  Okay, so according to the Vatican they aren't priests in the "Church", okay they aren't even in the church because they have been excommunicated.  But who knew?

So I visited their website and found there are 50 ordained Womenpriests and 5 women bishops in the U.S. and Canada.  They were ordained by a European Bishop whose identity remains guarded by all he ordained.  The women received training and guidance from priests.  But after they were ordained, they were not welcome in their churches and told they could attend Mass, but not wear their collar.  The womenpriests understand this as the priests would be excommunicated if it came out they were complacent in this matter.So far there are 3 in the Chicago area and the push is on for more everywhere.

Of course we would not hear anything about this from our Mother Church,  The Vatican  put the ordaining of female priests on the same level as pedophilia,a grave crime or "graviora delicta".  Really?  Who says women do not receive the priestly call from God?  And if they do they cannot follow the call because the males in the Vatican have determined that the Lord did not have female disciples, according to the Bible, which by the way was edited my men and did not include all the information that was discovered.  So how does anyone know God's intent?  This is the problem I have with organized religion.  Most of it is well intended, but still, come on man.

I believe that the ordination of women is something that the Catholic Church can no longer ignore or categorize as a sin or crime.  So I encourage my readers, especially those of the Catholic persuasion to gather as much information as possible on this subject and perhaps take a stand.  The church is in desperate need of priests and women should be allowed into the priesthood.

The Autumn Of My Life

I love the Fall season.  Leaves crackling underfoot, the familiar smell of autumn in the air.  Even during a warm spell, there is a something in the air reminding you that this is only temporary.  This is my first fall in the Midwest in 5 years, having been trapped in the Pacific Northwest with no seasons.  The climate is very temperate and that in itself is nice.  But because of our proximity to the ocean and the mountains, it is very rainy and gloomy most of the year.  You can count on some nice weather between 4th of July and Labor Day.

But I digress.  Today I find myself sitting on a park bench outside Rochester Methodist Hospital, in the Mayo complex, with my Corgi dog Waylon.  It is a glorious day to be alive.  The lunchtime aromas are wafting through the air.  It is an October-fest type atmosphere.  All of a sudden I realize that 28 years ago this very day, Sam proposed to me.  Neither of us knew then we would be challenged by so many health issues later in our lives.

Just as there are seasons of the year, I believe there are seasons to our life.  I am thinking this is the autumn of my life.  I thought 50 as great fun, but somehow when I turned 60 there was a pall of my own mortality, sneaking up on me without warning, "this is a friendly reminder that you are not going to live forever."  Kind of like the civil defense warnings we get the first Tuesday of every month.  "This is a test, had it been an actual alert, blah blah blah".  I welcome the change in weather, the change in my life, not so much.

Getting off track again...Here in the October noon-time sun, there is a breeze blowing the fallen leaves over my Birkenstock clad feet, as I watch the comings and goings of this medical community.   I love coming up here.  It feels like home.  We are all here for the same reason.  World class medical care.  There is much diversity, yet a camaraderie here that is palpable among all.  It gives me a feeling that I am being enfolded in the loving arms of this great place founded by the Brothers Mayo, and a feeling that everything will be okay and even if it turns out not to be,  a solace knowing you did all you could.

We have experienced Spring, Summer and Fall here in this Southwest Minnesotan city and are hoping that when we come back in the Winter, Sam will be cancer free.  Time has slowed here, giving me time to sort my thoughts and taste life as it has been given to me.  There is much to appreciate and yet so much to question.  I try not to look back, only forward, and make each day the best it can be.

Bump It Baby

We've all seen them.  The infomercials that used to haunt the television in the middle of night that are now inundating daytime TV.  I have bought my share.  The Smooth Away, and Sham-Wow to name a couple and am somewhat intrigued by Mr. Steamy.  Today we are talking about the Bump It.

Flo in the Progressive Insurance commercial wears one, I am sure of it.  The object is to put it in your hair on the crown of your head to give your hair some height.  Prior to this device, we were forced to tease or "rat" our hair for fullness.  At first glance it would appear that this device might save the hair from the ravages of the aforementioned, but in the instructions it says to place the Bump It and then tease the hair to hide it.

A question comes to mind.  Why would you want to look like a prom queen from the early sixties?  I know retro is in right now, but really, this was not one of our finest moments.

While visiting my Grand kids last weekend, we found one and immediately started to experiment with it.  Addie wanted to try it so we obliged her.  She immediately aged, looking as if she was going to appear at the Grand Ole Opry and break into song.  You know Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette  etc.  We had a riot!

So here's an idea.  Why not have a party and try the various infomercial products to see how and if they work?  Of course there should be alcohol involved for the adults....

Is The Stock Market An Economic Barometer?

It seems like every day we are bombarded with news on the stock market.  The Dow is up, the Dow is down.  What will the market do when the job numbers come out?  How will it respond to Housing Starts?  We as a society still look to the stock market as a harbinger for the state of our economy. We all keep an eye on it because a large number of our retirement accounts hinge on its activity.
  
When people start returning to work, that's when we will know that the economy is turning around.   There will have to be new jobs created, as manufacturing is dead in this country, having been sent abroad to save shareholder profits.  Not to mention the corporations have been able to operate "lean and mean" having reduced head count but  not reducing work load.  So you have a smaller payroll, with one employee doing three jobs,  at the same pay level.  Companies have found that this works, so why should they add jobs?  (Rhetorical question.)  What probably started out to be a short-term solution has evolved into long-term in our present economy.  It would be insanity to look for another job because, a). there are none, and b).even if you were lucky enough to land a job, if you needed to relocate,  you probably could not, because chances are you owe more on you home than it is worth.  And it just keeps getting better.  (That is sarcasm.)

Many corporations (i.e. Microsoft and others) have vast amounts of cash overseas in foreign banks, while they borrow money here because it is advantageous to pay dividends with debt market money rather than repatriate it and have a tax liability.  Everyone is working the system, it seems, except the middle-class taxpayer who is footing the bill..

The Ravages Of Cancer

Today we mark a milestone in Sam's fight against cancer.  He returns to work, albeit half-time, after being off for more than 120 days.  During that time he endured major surgery, a rigorous radiation and chemotherapy schedule, and weeks of slow recovery.  He is down 100 lbs from this time last year, appears to have lost a bet and had to have his head shaved, and relegated to eat most of his meals with a straw.

At this point he is eating soft foods, speaking more clearly, and anxious to get back to normal life.  He is fatigued, but that will last according to the docs for about a year.  He won't be tired all the time, but he will experience waves of fatigue.

We go back to Mayo on October 7th and hopefully will get a clean bill of health as far as Cancer goes.

The Not So Incredible Shrinking Woman Tackles The Flat Belly Diet

When it comes to losing weight, I am a work in progress. Over the last few years I have tried a myriad of diets including Weight Watchers, and many fad diets. I often wonder why there are so many. My son swears by Atkins, but I need some carbs. Doing a lot of reading regarding weight loss only confused me. It seems there is not a one diet fits all.

I was a bit leery when someone suggested that I try the above mentioned diet, telling me it really works. I went out and bought the book while Sam was recuperating from his cancer surgery. I read it and it made sense to me, and because it was formulated by the editors of Prevention Magazine, (giving it credence in my eyes) I thought it sounded like something I could do.

Those of you who know me, know that I am hooked on caffeine. It was not unusual for me to drink a couple of pots of coffee a day and don't get me started on my Diet Coke habit. Caffeine is one thing that you really should give up, because it is a diuretic and messes with your metabolism. Carbonated beverages are also a no-no, due to the fact that the bubbles create bloating.

One of the pains about starting a new eating program is the expense of buying all the food. This was not cheap, but if I had gone to Meijer, instead of the Jewel, I could have save about $20. So $70 later I am ready to begin. After 4 days, I had lost 4 pounds. Does not sound like much does it? But the great part was that I had lost inches. It almost appeared that I had a waist! This gave me the desire to keep it up. For 28 more days I lugged my food around with me every where I went.

The first week without coffee nearly killed me. Seriously, it was crazy how caffeine lifted my mood and gave me energy to face the day. Well now I didn't have it and boy this better be worth it! But after 4 days, seeing a difference, it made it easier for me to continue. Results are the impetus to continue anything you are doing in your life.

I started the "Flat Belly Diet" by Liz Vaccariello, on June 21 and as of today, August 20, I have lost 16 lbs. and several inches. I went from an xl to a medium and I feel so much better. Once more this is a great way to eat and you can still splurge once in a while (because God knows I CANNOT give up my beer) . I enjoy 1 cup of coffee in the morning now and that seems to be enough. I can walk by cherry Gummi Bears on the sidewalk and not be the least bit tempted to pick them up.

It needs to be noted that I did not accomplish these results without exercise, running 2 miles on the treadmill 5 days a week. I still want to lose an additional 15 pounds so until then I remain focused. The upside is that I will continue to eat this way the rest of my life (it is basically a Mediterranean diet) so it shouldn't be hard to keep the weight off.

So I encourage any of you who want to lose weight to go out and by the book and get started. It will change your life!

This Is NOT The Life I Ordered

Unrealistic expectations. I believe we all start out with them. When I was growing up in a small town, I was not exposed to life anywhere else. Thinking that all there was to life for me, was to get married, have children, and be there for my husband. Well that didn't work out so pretty good.

I did not go to college, as a drinking incident put me on probation (and I was too embarrassed to continue.) So I went to Parsons Business School, where I studied Fashion Merchandising. I have to admit that was fun and one of the highlights was a trip to New York City with a couple of my fellow students. We visited a few of the fashion houses on 7th Avenue. That was back when Bobbie Brooks was around and I think we even met Geoffrey Beene. It was very exciting, but I limited my options by not attending college.

So what happened was I started working at a bank, in Delton, married the first guy that asked me, from Delton, pretty much limiting what I could get out of life. The best thing that happened to me from that first marriage was my son. So after the divorce we continued on and ventured to Kalamazoo where I had better opportunities.

Sure enough I worked myself up the food chain both in my work and love life. It was not easy but within the next 5 years I married a great guy and had a great job at a major employer. By the time we moved to Washington in 2004, I had owned my own real estate business for 8 years. But none of that was planned ahead of time. Yes I put in the work, but on the fly, more or less. When I found myself really not liking a job I explored my options (there's that word again) and I found that indeed, I did have options.

Once again at age (gasp) 60, I find myself restless and wanting more out of life. I am in the midst of researching some alternatives. So just as I was ready to flag down my waiter to tell them this not the life I ordered, I find that maybe it's a good thing that I did not have a plan, because after all, I have options.

Nearing The Finish Line

It is Thursday, July 29th and the finish line is in sight for my dear husband Sam. After being diagnosed with Head and Neck Cancer on May 3rd and enduring three months that included major surgery, a feeding tube and tracheotomy not to mention six weeks of radiation and chemotherapy, he has only two treatments left before he comes home.

Everyday when I talk to him on the phone, I can tell it is a struggle for him just to put a sentence together. And it doesn't help that I can't hear very well and he has to repeat everything he says at least once. The treatments have ravaged his body. He has blisters on his neck and his entire body is broken out with a hideous rash. On the up-side, he has not lost his hair. Thank you Lord, there is only so much a person can handle. He says his face feels like he has the worst sun burn ever.

While at Mayo he has been staying at the Hope Lodge, a godsend for us, as it is provided free of charge by the American Cancer Society for patients receiving chemo and radiation. He has been with people going through the same experience, hopefully developing friendships and it is not as lonely has staying in a hotel.

Meanwhile, I have been home taking care of the dogs, knowing that is one less thing Sam has to worry about. Thank God I live closer to home. I have been going back to Kalamazoo often to see my friends and family, dogs in tow. It has been a life saver for me, allowing me to talk things out with objective people and not keep feelings pent up inside. You all are treasures in my life.

But our journey is far from over. The next two weeks for Sam will be hard, as the cumulative effects of his treatments will still be working. In four weeks he will return to Mayo for an assessment of his condition. Then he will go back every three months for checkups. His particular type of cancer is very aggressive and the risk for return within the first couple of years is high. He has promised me he will be vigilant in taking care of himself.

As we face this next period in our lives, we will look only forward and make the most of the time we have, day by day. Because really, isn't today all any of us can be sure of? That's why they call it the present, every day is a gift.

Honor Thy Father

I spent a long time trying to come up with a title for this blog. Searching for quotes and songs about Dads and Fathers, I found there are not near as many as for Mothers. As one quote goes by an unknown author,"Fathers Day is just like Mothers Day, only we don't spend as much."

It's a fact that we usually let our Dad's do what ever they want on their day and we put our Mothers on pedestals and shower them with gifts and brunch and phone calls. I remember that all my Dad ever wanted from his kids was a visit on his special day. He was short changed due to the fact that his Birthday, June 18, usually fell on or around Fathers Day. It was easy to cover both days with one visit.

Over the years, the role of Fathers in the family has evolved. Rumor has it, my Dad never changed a diaper. Not that hard to believe. His role in the family was clear, he worked two to three jobs a day, came home, ate dinner with us (most of the time) and then wanted to be left alone. Occasionally he would help us with out homework. Over the last 20 years Fathers have been much more participatory in both child rearing and household responsibilities. They often don't get their due, because the fact is usually ignored that they are still performing their outside chores in the lawn, etc. . But let me be clear that the majority of the household/child care is still provided by Momma.

It does my heart good to see Fathers enjoying their Children's company much more these days than when I was growing up.

June 29th my Dad will be gone four years. I still miss him like crazy. Over the years we had many disagreements about how things should be done. I on how he should fit the mold created for him in my mind, and he on how I should be fiscally responsible. Very rarely do our expectations meet the reality of it all.

For those who still have their Fathers, enjoy each day with them, because they may not be around tomorrow. For those of us who have lost our Dads, know that they are with us in spirit and still letting us know (in subtle ways) the right thing to do.

The Not So Incredible Shrinking Woman Goes To The Fitness Center

So here I am, back at Mayo Clinic with my Husband. This trip we are again staying at the Kahler Grand Hotel. It's an old hotel located right in the center of the Mayo complex. When making the reservation this time, I asked the front desk if they had a fitness center. "Yes", she replied, "it's on the 11th floor." That made me happy, as I had been neglecting my workouts due to not knowing what was available.

You really have to be motivated to use this facility. First you have to use the center elevators to get to the 10th floor. Didn't they say it was on the 11th floor? Oh yes, but you take the elevators to 10 and then walk up the stairs to 11. Oooookay. If you want to use the gym before 7:00 a.m., you have to use your room key to take the elevator up. Monday morning my key didn't work so I was going up and down and finally landed in lobby where a nice desk clerk used his key to get me to the 10h floor. All this in my gym clothes. (How embarrassing).

This morning I waited until a few minutes after 7:00 a.m., meeting a guy who mentioned how hard it is to find the place. I concurred. Upon entering the gym, I noticed there were more people than usual. Where to go I wondered. Aha, over there, by the old guy on the treadmill. My slow running will not be apparent next to him. So I meandered over and set my speed at 3.3 mph and incline at 4. Ready for my 2 miles. Started out with Lady Ga-Ga Bad Romance, I was movin'. I glance over at the old man and noticed he was walking at a pretty good clip. Hmmm, 3.2 mph, okay, but I was running, he was walking, it still looked like I was going faster. Then I glanced at his incline setting. It was set at 7! The guy wasn't even breaking a sweat. He had to be 85 if he was a day. That was humbling.

As I headed back up to our room, (that has a heating and cooling system that is possessed) I was only more determined to keep up my routine. There have been no stops at the Dairy Queen for a Buster Bar Blizzard this trip and am thinking of initiating the Flat Belly Diet as soon as I can be in one place for a 32 day period. Will keep you posted on how that goes....

Sammy, What Have You Done To Yourself?

Well here it is Sunday May 23rd and I am sitting in my hotel room trying to keep myself calm. Drinking decaf coffee and planning my diet for today not to include ANY salt and if you know me at all you are aware that I hate decaf and love salt. I only brought enough blood pressure for 5 days and today is the 6th day. That said, I will try to fill you in on what Sam has been through these last few days of May.

We arrived at Mayo last Sunday night, prepared for the colonoscopy that was ordered for Monday. We thought the results would come fairly quickly but they did not. Ultimately (I think it was Thursday) the results came back and there was no cancer. BUT there was displactia which means irritated cells that could cause cancer if not watched. So guess who's having another test in 3 months and it's not me.

He went down early Tuesday morning for the procedure (5:45). Procedure is not the right word, major surgery is the correct one. He was in surgery over 6 hours. They removed his tongue tumor which was the size of a baseball, his lymph node tumor which was by then 8.5 cm, and his thyroid gland which was also cancerous. Along with all that they took out his jugular vein on his right side, a neck cord that I can't remember the name of right now and some other nerve in his neck which he will need physical therapy on so his shoulder won't droop. When he got to his room at around 7:00 p.m. I was waiting for him and he was a mess, what with the feeding tube in his nose, 2 neck drain tubes on the right side, and a trach tube. I almost fainted he was so swollen.

I get up every morning to be in his room by 6:00 a.m.. That's when all the doctors start to roll in and I can talk with them. He is getting better every day. We have learned how to feed him through the feeding tube and how to clean out his trach. I am thankful that this is all only temporary.

Well yesterday morning he got the "Have you thought about, when all this is done, what you are going to do to live a healthier life style" talk from Doctor (the big cheese) Moore. Perhaps it was an unfair question for a man who at that point could not talk, but it was a fair question, in that it has to be done. I mentioned to the docs that there was indeed a new sheriff in town and if it did not happen, I would be resigning.

Over the last 10 years I have been trying to get him to lose weight. He has succeeded but then gained it back and then some. Being overweight contributes to cancer. He has a lot of other risk factors, but he loves sweets, and sugar FEEDS cancer.

When I met Sam (at the "Y" I might add) he was 220lbs. and 6'3". He was a former football player and lifted weights on a daily basis. His arms were was big as my thighs and he had a great looking waist. Suffice it to say he was in great shape and I figured he would continue to care about his health. The man I married is in there somewhere.

If we can take anything from this, it is to care for the body that God gave you. Don't rely on pills and the medical community to fix you. Do it not only for yourself, but also the people that love and care for you.

A Mecca Of Hope

We loaded up the car and took off last Monday about 12.30 p.m. for the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN.

It took some research and a whole lot of soul searching to make the decision on where to go for a second opinion and treatment. We knew we weren't staying local as the treatment would be very disjointed, going one place for surgery and another for radiation plus we weren't really swept away by the experiences so far. All the doctors locally said they would not recommend surgery due to the fact the tumors were so large he would lose his tongue and would not be able to talk or swallow.

So here we go on a 5 1/2 hour road trip to our nirvana of sorts. As we drove across the Mississippi River in La Crosse, WI, the topography gets quite flat and the Minnesota grass lands begin. It is easy to imagine the Plains Indians wandering the prairie and hunting for their food. Nothing but farmland for as far as the eye can see.

As you get close to the Rochester exit, a city not unlike the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz rises out of the landscape. When you enter the complex a feeling of peace comes over you, even though the clinic employs 29,000 people at this location alone. Sam and I felt as if we were the only patients there. All the patients are the number one priority of this facility.

From the moment we walked into our first appointment with the Ear, Nose and Throat surgeon, we had a sense of hope. There was none of the gloom and doom we got from the local doctor, who told Sam the surgery was not an option as the tumor on his tongue was sized so that he would lose most of his tongue, and the cancer in his lymph nodes was wrapped around his carotid artery. Dr. Moore saw no problem with removing both tumors. The tongue lesion is actually on his right tonsil. He saw no reason not to expect a full cure after surgery and radiation.

We ran into a snag when he had a PET scan and it lit up like a Christmas tree. His thyroid showed nodules so I am sitting in the waiting room waiting for his ultra sound and biopsy on his thyroid. If it is cancerous the doctor will remove it when he takes out the other tumors. (No big whoop.) His colon also had a large spot on it, so guess who's having a colonoscopy Monday? (And it's not me.) If he has colon cancer, all bets are off. The surgery would be postponed and radiation and chemo would be done, with "salvage" surgery afterward to clear out the remainders of the tumors. The prognosis is much worse in this case. So for the third Monday in a row we are praying for Sam.

I feel like we are navigating a maze, never knowing what is around the corner. I know in my heart of hearts we made the right decision coming here. Nothing will fall through the cracks here, all the care is coordinated, (the right hand knows what the left hand is doing). We have some of the best minds in medicine treating Sam. Mayo is #1 in treating tonsil and tongue cancer. Dr. Moore looked looked me in the eye, shook my hand firmly and told me, you're in the right place, and that was that.

This will not be a walk in the park for Sam. After surgery the pain will be bad, he will have a temporary tracheotomy, and a feeding tube through his nose.

So boys and girls, here is a little unsolicited advice. If you smoke, quit today. If you drink in excess, cut way back. If you use smokeless tobacco, stop it! For the most part this is a preventable cancer and it is hideous. Sam's cancer came about because his immune system was weak and he contracted a virus that most of us would fight off, but it caused cancer for him.

We will celebrate our 27th wedding anniversary on May 21st and it brings to mind our vows of "in sickness and in health, for better or worse, in good times and bad." Suffice it to say, I now know my God-given purpose in life.

Cancer Rears Its Ugy Head

"The results of the biopsy were not what we had hope for" the doctor told me as I sat with him in the physician consultation room. He was still in his scrubs with his shower cap- like head gear on, having just got the results from the pathologist after the surgery.

He explained that Sam has Squamous Cell Carcinoma, a cancer seen mostly in heavy smokers. Sam has not smoked a day in him life. I know that it is not unheard of for people to develop Lung cancer if they didn't smoke, basically anything is possible. The fact that he is on anti-rejection drugs for his transplanted kidney compromises his immune system and makes him susceptible to cancer. To say we are devastated, is an understatement.

God threw us a curve ball and we will deal with it. Here we were thinking that things were finally going better for us, and they are in some instances, and this comes along. We are not giving up, we will fight this and hopefully win. It is in an advanced stage which will make it tougher, but not impossible and besides miracles do happen.

Sam is keeping his sense of humor, stating that this will ruin his plan of becoming a porn star. "Do you want to know what my name would be?" he asked. "Buck Naked."

Profiling, Schmofiling

Ever since the State of Arizona passed their Immigration Law SB-1070, there has been a lot of outrage. Yes there is a chance that the law would be abused by the police. But from what it appears something had to be done and the laws on the books were not being enforced by the Federal Government.

Did you know that Arizona is number 2, I repeat number 2, in the World, let me say again, in the World in kidnapping for ransom. It is ground zero for smuggling drugs into the U.S. Unless you live in the State you have no idea how out of control the situation is.

I understand that there are humanitarian concerns about the children of illegals being born in the U.S. that are Legal Citizens. But if we do not secure the border, chaos will continue to reign. Mexico is ferocious in protecting their border to the south from Central Americans and I dare say they shoot first and ask questions later (if you know what I mean.)

People are incensed that they have to carry their papers and or drivers license with them at all times. To me that is just common sense. Everywhere I have lived in the country makes it mandatory you carry your license if you're driving and it is the "gold standard" aside from a passport for identification purposes.

If the ticket agent, where Mohammad Atta boarded one of the doomed airliners, had followed his gut instinct and not been afraid of profiling, well you know, 09/11 would just be my Grandson Max's birthday.

Even if this law is appealed, and it probably will be, it has drawn attention to the immigration problem along our borders to the south. Perhaps the current administration will put its reform back on the front burner (where it was promised to be a priority if elected). Either way the gauntlet has been thrown down and Washington has an obligation to respond.

Sixty And Counting

Well the big day has come and gone. I would like to be able to say that I am none the worse for wear, but that isn't true. I believe that yesterday was one of the more crappy days I've had in a while. Sixty. Who'd of thunk it? Certainly not me. Every time I glanced at my birthday cards setting on the table, the 60 would pop out at me and make me feel like hey, look at the old lady! I felt really old and really depressed. Maybe it was just the let down from all the partying on Saturday.

My cousin Mary had a wonderful dinner party for me and all my family was there to help me celebrate. The beer wagon had rolled in and of course I had a few. (Brain cells be damned.) At least no one wore black arm bands. I took a few shots from the younger generation, but in good humor for the most part. The food was delicious and a good time was had by all.

For the life of me I don't know where my philosophy went that age is only a number. It works great if you're talking about someone else. I think it's the old, I'm not going to live forever and the fact that we are celebrating it scares the hell out of me.

But it was a good excuse for all of us to get together and drink a little beer and have a lot of fun. God has been very good to me and I pray he lets me keep my sense of humor for the next twenty years or so, 'cuz if not it's going to be a real drag.

A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Lose

So here it is. Sunday is creeping up fast on me and it is really freaking me out. Birthdays have never bothered me. Only a number I say. A really big number. And besides, we get to party and have fun and of course there are presents....and cake, we can't forget the cake.

My follow-up appointment with the neurologist was Friday. I was looking forward to some answers, but I left with more questions than answers. The exam went well. Then she pulled up the MRI films. Front shot, I could see a little white area on the right side, but not much. I must admit I felt vulnerable, ( and a little like the Scare Crow on the Wizard of Oz) looking at my brain. She explained to me that the white area was dead brain cells, probably caused by the high blood pressure. "Those are never coming back", she mentioned. Roger , 10-4, that's what I was afraid of. That must be why I used the Lysol spray instead of Pledge to dust with today.

I am anxious for our company to come this weekend. All my family will be here from Michigan to celebrate with me. I will swallow hard and blow out the candles on my cake and hope that the Lysol doesn't leave a residue.

Doctor Howard, Doctor Fine, Doctor Howard

Who can forget Moe, Larry and Curly when they were playing Doctors on the Three Stooges? When we were kids, we would run home from school and watch them on TV and laugh our heads off.

For at least the last 20 years, there has been a lot of discussion and attempts to reform America's Health Care System. Unfortunately it is not as funny as the comedy of the Three Stooges and it does boggle my pea brain that some people believe Health Care reform is a bad thing. Costs are out of control and I am not talking about insurance premiums, I am talking about hospital costs.

I opened the bill from my trip to the ER and consequent one and a half day stay for observation, I almost swallowed my teeth. $20,600 is what it cost. Are you kidding me? Did I end up paying everyone's salary on the eighth floor? Are they going to name a hospital wing after me? Holy shit..... What do people do that do not have insurance? They either don't go or they go bankrupt when they get the bill. Being sick without health care coverage spells financial ruin.

Thank God we have insurance, and we will see just how good it is after they pay their portion. But really, the hospitals seem to be full all the time, it isn't like people are boycotting their services. The madness must be stopped! I know it is not simple, or is it?

I am unclear as to when the uninsured will be covered. Progress has been made, but it seems to me there is a long way to go. And the idiots in Washington are still arguing about it. It is time to start being concerned about our fellow man for there but by the grace of God go we.

When Enough Is Enough

My name is Theresa, I am a Cradle Catholic, it is the only religion I know. But today, I am officially disgusted with the Roman Catholic Church. I have resisted the urge to leave the church over the last ten to fifteen years, due to the fact that 1.) it is all I know and 2.) I believe in the teachings of our faith. That being said, I have got to voice my absolute anger over this last wave of priestly predators that have come to light, both in Ireland and Milwaukee, WI. I have severe doubts about the Holy See and their ability to govern the ever shrinking supply of priests.

There have been so many accusations of abuse by priests in the church that some have grown numb to it. Not to the act, but to the Churches response. In an article written by Laurie Goodstein and published March 24, 2010 in the New York Times, Ms. Goodstein states that Father Lawrence Murphy had abused at least 200 deaf boys back in the 50's and 60's when he was in charge of a school for the deaf in Wisconsin. It makes me sick to my stomach and the fact that the Vatican covered it up, makes me even sicker. True it was brought to their attention in the mid 1990's, but they failed to act because they wanted to avoid another scandal. Excuse me? Haven't they learned their lesson? Oh and this is rich, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (aka Pope Benedict XVI) was in charge of the cover-up. In my eyes this behavior is tantamount to condoning the acts of abuse. They said that they were focusing on sin and repentance rather than the criminal aspect. So in 1998 Father Murphy died as a priest. It was said he had no remorse for his actions.

I cannot believe that Christ would condone any of this. There are pundits out there who suggest we are to do what Church leaders tell us to do and ignore their examples of behavior. You know, do what I say, not what I do. I really believe the Church is at a crossroads where if it is to have any credibility at all, some housecleaning needs to take place.

The College of Cardinals has run a muck. Until we get leadership in the Church that is not from the same generation as the abusers we are not going to led out of the darkness. I probably run the risk of excommunication, (that seems to be the punishment for those who dare question the Church), but I can not in good conscience sit by and remain silent, especially when I have this blog as a platform.

If you have a different opinion, please let me know as I am always open to hearing the other side and maybe there is something I am missing. We need to generate conversation, as this is the 800 pound gorilla in the Sanctuary for all of us. Why should we leave the Church over this, when there are other alternatives.



Seldom have so few done so much harm to so many. Men who have been given access to our children,

Still believing that Christ designated Peter to be his representative on earth and even yes, the Pope to be

Speedbump On The Way To Sixty

Okay, so yes, we are going to talk about me turning sixty again, so get your barf bags out. Here we go.

It was March 17th, St. Patty's morn' and I had taken up my usual position on the sofa, in front of the TV with my computer at my side. The Today show was on and I was sipping a cup of coffee and enjoying the Riverdance troupe dancing on the plaza at Studio One A. I love the sound-track and was thinking what a nice way to start the day.

All of a sudden, I noticed something weird going on with my left hand in which I was holding my coffee cup. My fingers and hand were going numb, so I put the cup down, thinking maybe I was holding it wrong, you know? Gradually, I lost the feeling in my whole arm. Very scary. After a few minutes it subsided. Okay, that was different, but it went away, so I'm all right. A few minutes later my mouth began to tingle and before I knew it, the left side of my tongue went numb. Just like the Dentist had given me a shot of Novocain. At this point I was spooked. Were these the first signs of a stroke? Should I call Sam? Should I call 911? Should I wait to see if I have anything else go numb?

I speed dialed Sam at work and told him what had happened. He said he would hurry home and take me to the hospital, but if I got worse, I should call 911. I went upstairs and got dressed then checked the internet for the nearest ER. We made our way slowly, due to the fact I had the directions written down but screwed up on a turn and our GPS was not locating the satellites. Sam and I were both able to keep our composure and he did a really good job (patience is not one of his virtues.)

We went to Northwest Community Hospital in Arlington Heights and from the minute I walked in, they made me feel like was their number one priority. I explained my symptoms and they immediately sent me to triage. My blood pressure was 198/100 (wow) never has been that high. They wheeled me to a room, I put a gown on and they got to work. EKG, more BP checks, a shot of Ativan through an IV (thank you sir, may I have another?) and five baby aspirin with a water chaser. By now the symptoms had passed so I figured they would sent me home, 'cuz I obviously was o.k. Not so fast missy, "We need to run more tests so we are going to admit you for observation," he said with an incredulous look on his face that I would even be surprised at being assigned a bed. Looks like I'm staying

Another interesting sidebar involved a cardboard bedpan, which I broke when they sat it under me and peed all over myself and the gurney. What brain surgeon invented a cardboard bedpan?

They said I had a CT scan, but I don't remember it. (Could be the Ativan cocktail.) It was late afternoon before my blood pressure went down to a reasonable level, but that didn't stop them from taking it every two hours through the night. This was my first hospital stay since having my Son 36 years ago so I had forgotten that you really don't get any rest when you are there. They alternated between calling me Mrs. Bond and Theresa, which is o.k. but the flu shot at 12:00 a.m. and the blood draw at 4:00 a.m. were a little much. Then there was my roommate who needed a bedpan every hour or so and her IV alarm that kept going off just when I was dozing off.

As I was watching TV in my hospital bed (which by the way is a nice alternative to the couch), I thought of my Dad and how it was always him in the hospital situation. The rest of us have all been healthy. Age is catching up with me and I am not happy about it.

After another day of testing they let me out of the asylum (as Dad would say). All the tests were normal except my MRI. There was some white stuff in the top of my brain which may indicate a problem. Small vessel disease, which is usually seen in people my Mother's age, Vasculitis (sp) and something that sounded a lot like dementia. Hopefully the next MRI will not show anything, except my brain of course. The diagnosis is a TIA or "mini stroke".

Suffice it to say I am officially scared and will watch my blood pressure, caffeine, salt intake, and exercise when I am up to it. So much for losing 10 pounds by my birthday. My goal now is to be here April 18th.

Going Cold Turkey Into The Rest Of My Life

Antidepressants are the most prescribed medications in the United States. Approximately 10% of the population is taking some sort of mood enhancer or mind altering drug for depression. In the decade from 1995 to 2005 the number doubled, thanks in part to commercials saturating the television networks by drug companies, pushing their antidepressants. According to an article in USA Today, spending on direct marketing to consumers went from $32 million to a whopping $122 million.

That being said, I happen to be one of the 30 odd million people on medication for depression. Have been for over 10 years. But here lately, I have been questioning my dependence on pills. We are a nation of "pill poppers" looking for an easy fix. I don't have time for a one hour therapy session every week, we might say, so just give me a pill and I'll be on my way.

In 2006 I went off all my medication with the exception of blood pressure pills. Of course you have to do it in a step-down process and it takes about a month. At the end of that month, my Dad died. It brought to mind one of the Airplane movies when Lloyd Bridges, the air traffic controller mentioned he picked the wrong day to quit smoking, sniffing glue, etc. That's how I felt. Of course I had just experienced one of the triggers for depression, the death of a close family member and back on it I went. Over the past decade or so, there have been many reasons to be on medication for depression, my husband's kidney failure and ultimate transplant surgery, and moving 2400 miles from home, being just a couple of them. So you take a pill, so things don't bother you so much. There in lies the problem. You never address what is bothering you, your entire brain is not functioning.

I also believe being in an altered state of mind stifles my creativity. I fancy myself a writer and would like to see what I could accomplish with a fully operational mind, at what ever level that might be. You have to be open to creative thoughts, not knowing for sure where inspiration will come from and if part of your mind is missing, well you know......

As I have discussed before, ad nauseam, I am almost 60, and realizing, really realizing, that I have a finite number of years left. I want to fully live those years with all my brain, not just a part of it. So I am making the conscious decision to go off Paxil and start living again. There will be good, bad and ugly, I am sure. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Get ready for T Bond, uncensored.

The Not So Incredible Shrinking Woman (The Saga Continuuues...)

It's been a while since we've heard from this particular character in my life and I thought we should catch up with her progress.

The last four months have been a whirl wind of sorts, what with selling the house, trying to find a new place to live and moving all within a two week period, it did not leave much time for sensible eating or exercise. When they finally arrived in Chicago, it was December 15th, three and half long days on the road, with two dogs and horrible weather, had left them somewhat frazzled. But you all know about that.

Their meals consisted of non-stop takeout for the next two weeks. (Not to mention Christmas goodies). Weighing herself after the holidays, she was pleasantly surprised to find she had only gained five pounds. Not to worry, she'll just start exercising and whip herself back into shape. Right....the weather was horrible, so she couldn't walk, the treadmill was still buried in the office, next to the desk with the sawed off legs, so she had to wait until she could get it onto the loft landing to use it. That took an act of Congress.

Meanwhile she had been watching Denise Austin on the Imus in the Morning Show and Denise mentioned that what all you need to do is walk or run 12 miles a week to get into shape. Well now, and she had been walking/running 3.5 miles a day? Piece of cake. So now she had permission from Denise Austin herself to cut her daily workout down to 30 minutes a day to get 12 miles in.

It has been three weeks now of consistent cardio exercise, but the weight has not budged much. There's the old theory that muscle weighs more than fat and after a vigorous workout you do weigh more, but please. It's not like she was sitting on the couch eating bon bons everyday. Then the Girl Scout cookies were delivered. Nothing like frozen Thin Mints.


Then there was the frozen pizza incident. She noticed that the fat and calorie count was based on if you sliced the pizza into sixteen pieces! Holy Crap, who does that? She was eating pizza two or three times a week. It all started to make a little more sense now. That and the donuts, pies and potato chips that came into the house every day. Cheese and rice, you'd think someone wasn't watching their weight around there!

An article in the New York Times says that it doesn't matter how much you exercise, if you sit around most of the day, and say, watch TV, it scuttles your workout and you tend to gain weight. People who watch more than three hours of TV a day are heavier than those who do not. Rats.

So now the TV is off for most of the day, the radio is on and she is determined to lose ten pounds by her 60th birthday. April 18th is not that far away but if she doesn't let the occasional errant potato chip dropped on the stairway veer her off course, she just might do it.

Trying To Head North In The South Bound Lane

In our search for a Catholic church, we found ourselves at St. Julian Eymard, my cousin's church in Elk Grove Village. It was the first Sunday of Lent, appropriate because I had not been to Mass in two weeks, and why not start the season off by going? I seem to be good at starting and stopping, or at least pausing in my faith. The homily spoke to that subject in that Christ wants us to "come back to him." In the hymn "Hosea" we sing, " Come back to me with all your heart, don't let fear keep us apart. Long have I waited for your coming home to me and living deeply our new life."

As the priest talked of turning away from sins of the flesh, and rejecting pride and materialism for things that really mattered, I found myself wondering what I would wear on Easter Sunday, oh yes, my coral colored suit and how I needed new shoes and wouldn't those" killer" platform heels I saw at Marshalls the other day look hot with it? Oh yeah...back to church. See what I mean? I have great intentions, but it is hard to stay on the straight and narrow.

The Lenten season is a time to pause and reflect on our spiritual life leading up to Easter Sunday. A chance to try to repent for our missteps and shortcomings. To try to show our gratefulness for the Son of God's sacrifice on our behalf to attain everlasting life.

That being said, it is not easy. Nothing seems to be enough. Sure we can give up sweets, which would benefit us, (notice I didn't say anything about beer). When I was growing up in small town America, Lent was a dark time. It meant sacrifice for us, it seemed like a long time between Ash Wednesday and Easter. When you are a kid no candy or soda pop for six weeks seems like an eternity. The chocolate Easter Bunnies tasted extra good when you went without for a period of time. We rejoiced, Alleluia, Lent was over, bring on the Peeps and the marshmallow eggs!

In retrospect, that is what lent is all about. A dark period where we go out into the desert of our spiritual lives looking for redemption, being tempted along the way. It is a time for prayer and soul searching and waiting for the light of Christ to bring us out of the night.

Good Girl, Sophie

Our hearts are heavy tonight as the Grand Dame of our house, Sophie, is in the doggy hospital seriously ill with liver cancer. She has been a part of our life for 13 years. Our protector, confidant and friend.

I remember the cold, snowy February night we traveled to Comstock in response to an ad in the paper for $25.00 puppies. Her mom, a full blood German Shepard, paced the living room as we went to look at her puppies. If I remember right there were around 6 furry guys. Some black, some brown, all vying for our attention. One in particular caught my attention, because she had the most beautiful fur and seemed a little shy. To this day she has the most beautiful coat and softest fur. People want to pet her all the time. Anyway, Sam let me pick the one I wanted and I chose Sophie. Climbing in our blue Chevy pickup truck, the three of us headed back home to begin our life together.

Sophie and I had a love-hate relationship. I loved her and you know how she felt about me. She immediately bonded with Sam. She was his puppy. They would go for rides in the pickup and she would bounce from the front seat through the open sliding window into the bed of the truck. What an agile dog she was and she loved it.

Most feared her, as she was fear-aggressive, and very protective of the house. She scared the crap out of anyone who came to the door. My beloved guard dog, as I told her yesterday when we went to visit her. I was never afraid to be alone in the house or anywhere, if she was nearby. But she loved kids, knowing instinctively they were not a threat. Our Grandson Max would chase her around and around the pool table downstairs and they had such fun.

She eventually tolerated me, as we spent a lot of time together the last 3 years, when Sam was traveling so much. She would go into a depression when she saw Sam leave with his travel bag and do the dance of joy when he returned. If Sam went to bed before I did she would position herself between us, to keep an eye on both of us. She guarded the house, the car and her people.

Last night as we sat in the family room, one member of our family was missing. The house is emptier and quieter without Sophie around. Waylon misses his playmate, Sam misses his best friend, and I miss my protector. Regardless of the outcome which will be very sad, we must celebrate her life and the joy she brought to us. We are truly a family having spent the last five years in a strange state with only each other to count on. If only there were a way to slow down the aging process, but the girl's body is nearly 100 years old and I am sure she is tired.

I know all dogs go to heaven, she has a loving spirit, and she will have playmates there. Hopefully one day we will all be together again on the other side.

It may not sound like it, but we are still hopeful that the Geriatric Vestibular Disease will run it's course, she will get her equilibrium back so she can walk, and come home to us for however long she has.

Thank you Sophie, for a job well done.

In Search Of A Church

This past Sunday we visited our second Catholic Church, St. Theresa Church in Palatine, IL. It is only 5 miles from us and Palatine seems to be a nice city. It has a population of approximately 65,000. We are getting used to looking like tourists while trying to find the front door of the church. Needless to say, our comfort zone is long gone, our cheese has been moved.

We found our way in, it felt friendly and welcoming. Lots of light in the entry, skylights in the sanctuary, padded pews, the whole nine yards. A floor to ceiling kelly green velvet curtain served as the back drop to the large Crucifix behind the marble altar. There were missalettes in the pews which were used for the liturgy and hymnals. There was time for peacful prayer.

I searched out the choir and was happy to find a group wearing robes and sounding very nice. It appeared to be about the size of the choir at St. Ambrose Church in Parchment, MI. The songs were familiar, the liturgy was familiar, it felt right. Even though it felt intimate, it is still a Parish of 4,000 families. I thought St. Joseph's in Vancouver was huge, it had 2,200 families.

There are so many Catholic Churches to choose from in the area (as my Brother Phil likes to say, "You can't swing a dead cat without hitting one") we are thinking of trying one more in Barrington. We both felt good about St. Theresa's, but need to know what else is out there.

The Mass Is Ended Go In Peace, And Roll Credits

Okay, so today is the day we decided to attend Mass at Holy Family Catholic Community. We awoke bright and early, for a Sunday, and left at 8:45. It is about a 3 minute drive, but the car moved slowly, as it cut through the frigid air. "We probably could have walked", Sam said while he brushed dog hair off his dress coat, "but I think we should wait until it warms up a little". I agreed with him, big time.

I noticed as we got out of the car that everyone was greeting one another. People seemed very friendly, all smiling and saying hello. This being the last Sunday of the Christmas season, the sanctuary was decorated and it was beautiful. There was an immersion Baptismal pool in the center aisle in front of the altar. It was surrounded by velvet ropes to avert disaster.

Sam wanted to sit near the back so we chose our pew and had a seat. There were two LARGE video screens on either side of the altar where upcoming events were being displayed. I was interested in the music liturgy, so I wanted to scope out the choir. For a parish of this size, it did not seem too big... and no one was wearing a choir robe. Hmmm, perhaps this is the contemporary service. You know, the not so traditional mass. Wrong. It seems that this particular Catholic Church is truly "New Age" of which I did not think there was any such thing.

Before the readings, Father asked if there were any new people in the congregation. We looked around, dreading what was coming next, and sure enough, he asked the newbies to stand. I shot a glance at Sam and he said go ahead, so I did, and guess what? You got it, only me. I nervously smiled at everyone and gave a half-wave and quickly sat down. There may have been applause, don't know, don't care. So much for no one looking at me...Father welcomed me and hoped I felt at home there. That's right, Sam did not stand. Oh well, what the hell......

As Mass continued, we felt as if we were at some sort of performance. There was applause for the homily (first time experience for us), but I must admit it was worthy of it. There was a lady doing sign language for the whole service, including the songs. ( Her arms must be killing her.)

The music was very joyful, but very contemporary. I thought perhaps we were in a Christian Contemporary music infomercial. I waited for Michael W. Smith to make an appearance. Now don't get me wrong, I love a lot of those songs, but not at Mass. You know how I always save a place for Dad at Mass? Well let me just say, I don't think he will come to my mind here.

On our way out, we stopped at the "welcome desk" to ask if all the masses were this contemporary and they responded that yes they pretty much were. So we are off to find a place where we will be a little more comfortable to worship. There is definitely a need for this type of liturgy in the church, as it is losing membership to mega-churches such as Willow Creek Community Church just around the corner in South Barrington. I am glad we all have choices.

Sing praise to the Lord for He is good.

It Takes A Little Time

This is the third Sunday in a row that I have not attended Mass. In my warped little mind, I rationalize it with "I'm easing into my new environment." When in reality, I am scared. Why should I be scared? It is the Catholic Church for heavens sake. I have been a member ever since I was six weeks old. The service is virtually the same everywhere you attend.

Change is not easy for me, even though I do it all the time. I am a very self conscious person, feeling awkward and conspicuous , whenever I go somewhere new. My husband puts it another way, that I am very conceited thinking that everything is always about me. I beg to differ with him. It is actually a feeling of inferiority.

When I enter a new world I feel that I don't belong, that everyone knows I don't belong and they are somehow passing judgment on me. Weird, huh!? Obviously, I need to work on this problem. No amount of anti-depressant has helped so far. Looking at it here on this page helps a little. When I talk about it I realize how perfectly absurd it is, but there is something within me that keeps me from getting out. But I digress.

I have turned the salvation of my soul into a social occasion, putting the focus on myself rather than our Lord. Like my Dad, I do love a party. But in order to be comfortable, and enjoy the party, I need to feel accepted. It took me three and a half years to ease into high school for crying out loud. I finally felt accepted and started having fun my senior year. All I need to do is take the first step to get the ball rolling, but the older I get, the harder it becomes.

Here in northwest Chicago land there are so many people and so many churches. Call it fate, but right around the corner from our townhouse is a HUGE Catholic church. Holy Family Catholic Community. Sounds nice doesn't it? A community, not a church. Interesting. They have two Masses on Saturday night, six Masses on Sunday (two Polish Masses). It is nearly impossible to come up with a viable reason for missing church. ( And it's in my back yard for Pete's sake.) So I have decided, no more excuses, we will be attending Mass on Sunday( or Saturday night) checking out the choir situation because I still love to sing and it is a good way to make friends.

If you are reading this Mom, I am not in danger of falling away from the church or becoming an Easter Bunny or Santa Claus (those who only attend on Christmas and Easter). I love my faith and hope God understands all my eccentricities and foibles. He knows what is in my heart and I will renew my commitment to serve the Lord in any way I am able.