Drawing

When I was a kid, I used to draw ALL the time. A new package of typing paper and some colored pencils made me happy as a clam. I drew ladies in my own designer dresses, I drew flowers, I doodled letters, and it was fun. 

This pretty much came to an end when a junior high art teacher appeared to dislike everything I did. My "store window" of high fashion boots rated only a C-. My sketchbook only garnered a C, and my painting was given a large, red, F. 

After that, I put the pencils down. I stopped trying to draw. I had other talents to develop. But, deep down, I think something in me wanted to draw even if I had no real talent.

I have joined a Facebook sketch group to try and recapture the joy of just doodling and drawing in a journal setting. I may never get really good at it, but that doesn't matter. I'm having fun. 

Lettering

I don't have to tell anyone south of the Mason-Dixon line how hot it has been this summer. Records have been set for the number of 95+ degree days in a row with heat indices well over 100. 

I do not do heat. It does not work and play well with my illnesses. This summer has been especially difficult health-wise.

Stuck in the house for most of these summer days, it hit me how much time I had been spending on the internet. Between Facebook, news sites, Pinterest, and email, I was not getting much of anything accomplished. It was too hot to get much done in the house. Without a place to hang my art, I had trouble getting into my painting. I couldn't seem to concentrate to read. I needed something that did not take a lot of physical energy to do, but would engage me. 

I have wanted to learn how to do some and have been following the blog of Lori Vliegen (Elvie Studio at http://elviestudio.blogspot.com/) for about a year. After buying some books that were hard to follow, I bit the bullet and paid the $40.00 for Lori's online course, found here: http://elviestudio.blogspot.com/p/letterlab-class.html. It took about a week of practice to learn the basics, but now, I am hooked. I can't wait to take her next course "Doodle Page" to learn more. She has a lighter, more spare style than many who do art journaling.

At least I can say that I learned something this summer and put it to use. 

 

Apples

Last Sunday, I did something that I have not done in over 10 years. I ate an apple. A Fuji apple, to be specific. 

I have a history of multiple, sometimes severe, food allergies. I had eliminated all the foods that elicited an adverse reaction, of any kind, from my diet years ago. Apples used to make me start itching and exacerbated asthma symptoms. 

When I went to the allergist in Jackson last week, he tested me for my existing food allergies and some suspected new ones. There were a few things that I tested positive for (the last time I underwent tests) that did not come back as positive this time. 

One of these things was apples. Since my reaction to these was not life threatening, my allergist gave me permission to try them again. I bought the apple pictured, washed it well, and sliced off a piece. It was sheer Heaven. 

Two other things I will be allowed to try again are oats and things in the cucumber/pumpkin family. I can't wait to bite into a juicy dill pickle and maybe an oatmeal raisin cookie soon. I have to do them one at a time, with some days in between. 

Having these three things back in my diet will allow much more variety than I have had for many years. I am already dreaming of apple bread and apple pie. But, for now, a plain apple is hard to beat. 

Hot

I know that this is not the hottest summer that I have ever experienced. But, for some reason, this one is really getting to me. Maybe it is the 29 straight days with temps over 95 degrees??

Because heat is the enemy of many neuromuscular disorders, I have to stay in when it gets this hot. Just getting in and out of the car to run errands is too much. This morning, I was having trouble catching my breath when I left home at 8:15. Even when I know what the problem is, it is still a little scary. 

Even at home, I don't get much done. In order to be comfortable with a temperature compromise to accommodate my cold-natured husband, I have to be pretty still. It is almost like my brain is running in slow motion. I have no energy or motivation to create, read, cook, or even think some days. 

Fall is coming.

Right?



 

Oxford

Last week, I went to Oxford. On purpose. I have been through Oxford to get to other places, but I have not actually been TO Oxford since 1977. 

There were two reasons for making the trip. One was my friend, Beverly, pictured here. She has plans to move from California to Water Valley in the future. I felt it my duty as a Mississippian to begin her "Redneck Training" with a trip to Sonic, encouraging bare feet, and eating at the Huddle House. I can already tell that she is going to be a natural at Mississippi living. 

The second reason for going to Oxford was to see another friend who became quite dear to me during her sojourn at St. Alban's Episcopal Church here in Vicksburg. I enjoyed singing for services there during Holy Week and Christmas Eve. She allowed this Methodist to participate in Bible studies with her parishioners. We were also in a prayer shawl group together. I have been wanting to visit her and participate in a service at her new church, St. Peter's. 

I must admit, despite Oxford being the home of "that school", I was quite impressed with what I experienced. I loved both Square Books and Off the Square Books, the local restaurants were quite good, especially the Bottle Tree Bakery, and I even found a great little indie art store called Paint and Pen. 

What impressed me the most, however, were the people. They were friendly, welcoming, and very open minded. There is a strong sense of community in Oxford. 

I won't wait nearly so long to go back this time. 

 
 

Post Traumatic Growth

I can't believe that I had never heard this term until today. Back when I was in school, we used the term resilience. This is not quite the same thing. I see resilience as being more of a returning to a previous norm after a traumatic event. PTG appears to take it a step further, suggesting that there can be not only a return to *normal*, but a progression to *better*.

It is probably a blessing in some ways that I was not familiar with the term "post traumatic stress" in my younger years. I really did not recognize any option after traumatic events except to just keep going. Breaking down simply was not an option. I had a education to get. I had a chronically ill mama. I had jobs to do that made me less dependent on my parents, who had medical bills and 3 in college at the same time. I kept going, but I never really returned to my previous normal. I certainly did not experience growth out of the circumstances. 

Then, on Christmas morning, 1990, my mama did not wake up. She died that night in the ICU of the Vicksburg Hospital. My grief was absolutely crippling, complex, and I spiraled into a severe depression. As usual, I was prepared to just muscle on through. Thankfully, my truly concerned and savvy friends talked me into getting counseling. I didn't have to do it alone. Not this time.

With help, I was able to finally work through, not just my grief over my mother's death, but through multiple previous traumas as well. I got back to a semblance of normal, then a growth and joy beyond what I had ever really known. I took a huge chance and my first student loan, and, at 35, went back to school to get a second Master's Degree in counseling. I learned to stand up for myself against even well-meaning bullies. I got myself out of relationships that became one-sided and unhealthy. Later, I began to dabble in art, something I loved as a child, but was discouraged from as a teen. 

Anything I go through now I consider a normal reaction to events that would cause anyone sadness or anger. Deaths, health issues, being wounded by loved ones are going to cause some understandable distress. As long as this is not prolonged or complicated, I consider this normal. I worked hard to learn how to feel my feelings, deal with my issues...

And keep growing. 

Healed

After 6 months that involved long periods of not talking and even longer periods of not singing, my vocal cords have finally healed. I must admit, this has seemed like an eternity to me at times. 

Due to multiple health issues and medications that have the potential to cause problems in the future, I do have to use some degree of caution. I am working on getting my confidence in my singing voice back. I know that I cannot adequately express the relief I felt when I saw my vocal cords on the doctor's screen, coming beautifully together exactly as they are designed to.

Thanks be to God. 

 




 

Peace

As fireworks continually punctured the peace of the past few evenings, I was once again reminded of just how crucial a certain degree of peace and quiet is to me. The older I get, the more true this becomes. 

Although I am outgoing and social by nature, I do need my quiet time. I need my time to tune the world out to some extent. I need moments away from loud noises and loud voices (whether in real life, or on TV and social media). 

I also find that I seek out more peaceful people to be with. People who don't have to be the loudest voice in the room. People who have found peace with the circumstances they are currently in, while working to change them if possible and necessary. People who don't have to constantly "one-up" other people. People who are able and willing to both nurture and be nurtured. These folks are balm to me in a world of constant and unremitting noise. 

Don't get me wrong. I do love periodic lively discussions on a number of topics. I will sacrifice my peace at times for causes I believe in. I struggle with spiritual issues that rightfully disturb my peace when the need arises. But, I continue to seek and crave peace whenever and wherever possible. 

May all who seek peace find it today. 

 





 

The Fitbit

A couple of weeks ago, I stepped off the scale, extremely unhappy with the number I saw. I had regained seven of the 44 pounds l had lost last year. Increased steroids, an extremely restrictive diet (by necessity), and months of illness had taken their toll. I needed to find some way to beat the odds against me and halt the slide. 


I have usually had success with plain old calorie counting. I needed something to help me keep track of my food and make me aware enough not to just eat mindlessly. I had heard people talk about the fitbit. Being generally fond of gadgets, I thought this $99.00 investment in a fitbit flex might just help do the trick of getting me back on track.


I had to work with it a bit to get realistic goals for my particular body and health issues. I am doing really good to get 3,500 steps, 30 active minutes, and drink 40 ounces of water. I set up a modest weight loss goal of 1/2 pound a week, although I am losing faster than that at this point. I have yet to actually be able to walk 2 miles, even with a lot of starts and stops. 

It also seems to be pretty good at tracking my sleep. It can tell when I am awake or restless. Having multiples of both is a fair sign that my BiPap mask is not working properly. I am hoping to work on resolving that next week, if it is possible.

Sometimes I feel like my fitbit is nagging me. It will be 10:00 PM and I will be realistically within my step goal, so I pace around the house till I get them. It will let me know that if I put ONE more thing in my mouth, I will be over my calories in vs calories out. I don't want that crossed knife and fork icon to show up on my dashboard, telling me that I have overeaten! 
I crave those little green smiley faces that tell me I have made my goals. 

Enduring weight loss and better fitness don't happen without hard work from me. But, my fitbit makes the journey a little more fun. 

 

Kidney Stones

Fortunately, they were not mine. Unfortunately, they belonged to my husband. 

I have heard that kidney stones cause some of the worst pain in the world. After this past 11 days, I believe it. Two lithotripsies, one ER visit, and a surgery to insert a stent later, the pain is finally gone. However, the weakness and fatigue caused by over a week of not sleeping or eating properly still remain.

My normally even tempered husband, became a seemingly different person while dealing with this pain. This man will not grace a headache with an aspirin. But, two days after lithotripsy #1, this man was in so much pain that my neighbor, Ross, took him to the ER, while I raced back from Annual Conference of the Methodist Church to get to him as quickly as possible. It took Dilaudid to finally ease the pain at the ER. Then they shipped us home, knowing that the urologist was set to leave for the weekend and following week. 

Fortunately for us, this doc ended up not leaving town and we were to see him on Wednesday. By Thursday, the second lithotripsy was done and a stent placed.  This all appears to have finally done the trick.

My husband said that this bout of kidney stones made his lung cancer surgery seem like a piece of cake. 

As for me, aside from praying I never get kidney stones and that he doesn't get any more, I am going to find out what is causing my husband to get these. Then, I am going to try to keep him from eating and drinking things that might cause them to form again. Notice, I said *try*.  People tend to have short memories when it comes to things like this. 

But I certainly won't soon forget this week.  


 

Closing the Box

After almost 5 years, the wonderful owners are putting the lid on The Cricket Box. Judy and Debbie are ready to retire "for real this time" in order to spend more time with family, pursue other interests, and have the kind of free time that owning a small business simply does not allow. 

The Cricket Box set an amazing example of how a successful business is run. Judy and Debbie dealt with their vendors and consignees fairly, keeping everything completely above board. They went above and beyond the call of duty if a member of the Cricket Box family had an illness or injury, either personal, or in the family, often providing meals, visiting, and even attending funerals.

The Cricket Box gave me a local opportunity to show and sell my art and I am forever grateful. It gave me an opportunity to make new friends and raise money for the charities I support. Most of all, it gave me two precious forever friends, Judy Wooley and Debbie Tate. 

The "Box" may be gone, but the memories and the friendships will never be. 

A Gift

I received a wonderful gift today. A gift of unexpected and badly needed time. 

I took my husband to the hospital today to have lithotripsy for a kidney stone. Almost every time one of us goes in for a procedure of any kind, we are told to get there early. Then, we usually end up being bumped to last case. That means we may get to there at 6:30 AM and not leave until as late as 9:00 PM. That makes for a very long day in a cold, tiny room. Especially if I am the one waiting. 

Today, we got there at 6:30 and we were home by 10:30. I consider this nothing short of a miracle. This week was already packed with an unscheduled trip to Jackson yesterday,  watercolor classes and three trips to Jackson coming up for Annual (United Methodist) Conference Thursday-Saturday. This probably does not sound like much to a healthy person, but is absolutely exhausting to me. 

So, I am especially thankful for this time gift today. Time to take a nap. Time to get errands run that would have had to be done in my already overcrowded tomorrow. Time to return emails and phone calls. Blessed time that leaves me with a little more energy for the rest of the week. Time. 

Released

Two years ago, my non-smoking husband was diagnosed with lung cancer. Thankfully, it was found early, during a CT scan for kidney stones. It was a small spot, and surgery was done to remove the middle lobe of his right lung. 

Today, Dr. Newcomb released Bill from his care. Bill is now considered cancer-free. I admit that I tended to almost hold my breath in the days before these cancer checkups without even realizing it. My feeling of relief today is absolutely overwhelming. 

Despite my relief at my husband's happy prognosis, my heart still aches for all the cancer patients, especially the young ones, who fought valiantly, but did not ultimately survive their disease. Cancer doesn't "discriminate" on the basis of age, gender, race, religion, or anything else. It is past time to get priorities straight and increase funding for cancer research. Looking at the high cost of treating cancer, wouldn't it make more sense to spend the time and money on prevention, early detection, and less expensive, more effective cures?





  

Curly!

I once thought that the hair I was born with would be the hair I would have most of my life, changing only when I became gray. I was wrong. 

My hair always had a slight wave to it, even when it was almost down to my hips in high school. But, it was never what one would call curly. 

It is now. I don't know if it is the effect of anesthesia, age, hormones, or going on thyroid medication, but now I have curls. My bangs are now ringlets. This is definitely new to me. 

Due to a strained rotator cuff, I decided to stop trying to dry my hair straight for a while to help my injury heal. I just shook my head, put in a little leave-in conditioner, and walked out the door.

I think my blow dryer is retired for good. I love not having to fuss with my hair. I like the fact that even if I sweat, or get caught in the rain, my hair dries and looks fine. I love not using hair spray (unless I want to) and I love not having to constantly worry about how my hair looks.

Not Your Mother's Kinky Moves Curl Defining Shampoo  $4.99
Not Your Mother's Way to Grow Leave in Conditioner      $7.99

Hair Freedom                                                                Priceless


 

It's Coming Back!

It's coming back. My voice, that is. I have been allowed to do some limited vocalizing and light singing over the past two weeks. I have to stop immediately if anything feels strained or uncomfortable. At this point, I can vocalize for 3-4 minutes without this happening. 

When I first tried to vocalize in my speech therapist's office, I only had about 5 notes and a wobble wide enough to drive a truck through. I was concerned that the voice I regained might not be "my" voice. I might not have a sound that would be pleasing to the ear. My speech therapist encouraged to keep at it, a little at a time, every day.

Today, I got to church early and vocalized a little using our keyboard. Recording my effort on my iPhone, I was very happy to realize that I have most of my notes back and that the wobble is much improved. I am not yet back to "solo" quality, but, after 4 months, I am thankful for what I have regained.

My voice still tires easily and there are slightly husky spots. I am not going to push it. I do not want to set myself back. But, it was a joyful experience today to be able to sing a verse or two of the hymns and join in on the Doxology and Gloria Patri.  

Thanks to all of you who have endured my unhappiness during my silent period. I have really appreciated the support and encouragement. I continue to ask for healing prayers until I get my full voice back and can do what I love to do most. 



 

BroomStick Betty

This moniker was hung on my mother by my brother-in-law, Barry. when he was a teenager dating my sister. Of course, to be fair, she started calling HIM Barry Bird first! 

The nickname stuck and became the genesis of a new hobby for mama. She began to collect witches. This was the era of the Kitchen Witch, and she had several of those. She had witches brought to her from all over the US and even from other countries. When she passed away in 1990, most of her friends chose one of her witches to remember her by. I still have one hanging in my office, a stuffed one with white hair, striped stockings, and pointed black shoes. 

If I was out with her and we saw a witch of some kind in a store or holiday display, I would shout MAMA! I think mom got a kick out of it. I remember mama expressing her disappointment when she found out the Good Witch of the North in The Wizard of Oz was Billie Burke, more known as a comedienne than the elegant, beautiful, Glinda. 

Even after almost 25 years, I still miss BroomStick Betty. I miss her singing. I miss watching her cooking in her witch filled kitchen. I miss her encouragement and her belief that I could do most anything I set my mind to. 

So, this Mother's Day, I will raise a glass of sweet tea and remember the best of my mama, BroomStick Betty, a true original.

Amy Graduates From College!

Today, my niece, Amy, graduates from the University of Southern Mississippi with a degree in English Licensure. I am quite proud of her and her choice to be a force in (hopefully!) saving the English language by teaching it to the next generations.

Where does the time go? It seems like just yesterday she was the baby who made me literally jump for joy the day she was born. The toddler who tried to get into the refrigerator to get more cherries for her fruit cocktail. The little girl who would sing the songs from Anastasia with me. The teen who would go with me to Tinseltown to see operas filmed at the Met. 

Amy has always done life on her own terms. No one is forcing her into any molds. She is dramatic, witty, smart, and enthusiastic. Someone posted a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson that made me think of Amy on this graduation day. 

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else 

is the greatest accomplishment. 

Congratulations, Amy. Your Aunt KK and Uncle Bill are proud of you. 

Now reach for the stars.    

Graduation

Yesterday, I officially *graduated* from speech therapy. I don't have my full singing voice back yet, but my *new* speaking voice is working to take the stress off of my vocal cords. I was truly surprised to hear the difference between my voice when I first walked into Lisa Lamb's office in Dominican Plaza, and the voice I had at my last visit yesterday. 

My new voice is slightly higher pitched than my old one. It is a little softer, but I can increase the volume when I really need to. As I work to regain my singing voice, I find myself extremely protective of what I have worked so hard to regain. Now, I put more thought into what things are worth using my voice for. At this point, I am not able or willing to try to spend time arguing over any but the most important things. I am not going to stress my new voice to speak over loud voices or noises. It is just too precious to risk. 

I am finding that this affects the way I interact in group situations. Thankfully, I usually have a good book on hand and can be quiet and enjoy gatherings from a distance. I want to save my voice for teaching, ministering, and encouraging. I want to continue to rest it enough to heal my singing voice completely. 

Today, I will raise a glass of sweet tea and toast the therapist who helped me speak again. 

Thanks, Lisa!

 

 

Discouraging words

I visited a surgeon today to discuss the possibility of surgery to help manage my severe reflux. I had surgery 10 years ago for this issue, but they sometimes need to be redone after about this length of time. I was hoping this might be a simple fix.

I was wrong.

Due to scar tissue from the first surgery, a second one would likely require a large, open incision. This, along with the possibility of rupturing the esophagus, makes it considerably more risky than the first was.

Before any decisions are made, there will be more tests and more waiting.

Meanwhile, the reflux is making it more difficult for my vocal cords to heal. I am in constant pain. My diet, already severely restricted by allergies, is even more limited.  Add no milk, yogurt, or ice cream, no citrus, no soy, no tomato, nothing fried, and almost no caffeine. I am living on carbs with small amounts of low fat cheese, some chicken and occasionally ground beef.  Even with supplements, I am simply not getting enough nutrients to keep my levels up. I am anemic, low in protein, potassium, and vitamin D. This makes me tired and lethargic, as well as slow to heal.

I am doing everything by the letter. I am not drinking anything carbonated. I am sleeping on a very high bed wedge. I am taking the strongest meds on the market. I am chugging $72.00 a bottle GI cocktail.  But, nothing is working. There is also a possibility that this is related to my neuromuscular issues and that there is no fix available.

This is one of those days that staying upbeat and hopeful is difficult. But, tomorrow is another day. Hopefully, it will be a better one.

Progress

I am continuing to make progress in speech therapy. I am now able to speak as long as I don't try to raise my voice or allow my voice to get fatigued. I am still encouraged not to speak on the phone any more than I have to, but I can live with that until my healing is more complete. 

Even more exciting is that I was allowed to vocalize briefly today! I don't have but a few low notes, but we are hoping that this will eventually improve. Compared to 3 weeks ago, when I had absolutely nothing, this is major. It has been 3 months since I have been able to sing anything. 

Interestingly, my speech therapist has identified some problems with my swallowing that appear to be connected with my congenital myopathy and we are working on ways to help me swallow more effectively and not choke as much. 

Monday, the doctor is supposed to have another look at my vocal cords.  I am anxious to see how the healing is going and how it corresponds to my progress in speech therapy.

Keep the prayers coming! Please.