6-28-16 This is what it is...

I'm going to give you all some valuable life lessons today. About how things REALLY are. It's all in the very elusive "Secret Book of Aging and Love."

I'll start out with...I thought I'd be so much wiser by now. Really. But, inside my head, I don't feel much different than the 25-year-old I once was. (Notice, I didn't go back to 16-years-old...I guess I HAVE made some progress since then!) My outsides may be 57, but inside, I feel YOUNG.

When Loy and I first got married we started a photo album of comics that we thought were funny. After 35 years, we have quite a book. But, when I looked through it a couple days ago I was struck by how our humor has shifted. I can still look at those first comics--lots of Cathy or Funky Winkerbean--and think they are humorous. Some even bring a smile. Then there was a Baby Blues period. Lots of cartoons about parenting young kids. You guessed it, we then moved on to the Zits section. Dealing with teen angst.

Now? Yep...we are totally LOVING Pickles. We think that one is hilarious!! And so true to life.

Maybe there has been some inward maturing and wisdom-gaining...

I work with elderly people now and I am learning that, while their bodies are failing and they nap often and they need help in the bathroom, they still want to feel like a person. They still want physical touch--thus, I put on a lot of lotion!--and they still want to hear that they are doing well. And I still want all that too.

Kids, take note...

• time will pass quickly...really
• someday you will want to tell your parents "Oh, Mom...I GET it now!"
• we did the best we could--we tried really hard

My friend's elderly mother says, "You can either become grumpy or twinkly." I'm working on twinkly!!

Next, I'll address the sexiness of life. (I think I heard my kids just gag and click off this blog!! :) )

I told Loy the other day, "I am overweight. I am balding. I have no boobs. And now I have a CPAP machine. I just get sexier and sexier." Poor Loy.

Overweight-I can hear it now from some of my contemporaries (not the young things): "You're not overweight!" I am blessed to be small-boned and I have noticed that people never seem to think I weigh as much as I do. And other people don't get/have to see me naked (thank heavens!!) I weigh more than I should. Maybe 20 pounds over.

I waffle between thinking, "A Grammy has to have a little meat on her bones! It makes me snuggly." to "I want to be this active, hiking, swimming-laps grammy." But, facts are that extra weight contributes to breast cancer; extra weight makes people snore; extra weight contributes to GERD (which I also have!). Twenty pounds. That's all. And I just cannot do it. Cookies=Good.

If breast cancer would ever return, I know I cannot think that it was my fault. BUT...I would always wonder if I had just lost that 20--would that have made a difference???

Balding-I have read that some bc survivors are suing the makers of taxol because it sometimes causes permanent baldness. I was on taxol. My hair is very, very thin and has patches where the scalp shows through quite a bit. I color it now (well, Lori colors it!) so that I get credit for every single hair on my shiny scalp. But I can say without question that I'd rather be bald than dead. So I will not be joining the lawsuit.

Just a side note...I found a magic powder made of hair fibers that is dark brown. You sprinkle it on the sparse spots and, while it does nothing to grow hair, it makes the shiny, white scalp look like my hair color. It camouflages my spots! Sounds weird, I know, but it works and makes me feel quite hairy!

No Boobs-No comment needed, I guess. It is what it is. I will add that I have absolutely ZERO regret about not having reconstruction. Just threw that bit of opinion in there for free!

CPAP-I have had a snoring problem for several years. Two years ago I had septoplasty to sort of roto-rooter out my sinuses. Didn't help. We tried a noise machine (because it doesn't really bother me to snore, but Loy was ending up in the guest room on most nights!) The machine reminded us of frying bacon and we got hungry. I got a dental appliance which actually helped quite a bit...but it made my jaw really hurt and I couldn't chew for 2/3 of each day. CPAP it is.

The good news is that it is quiet--no noise at all. That surprised me. The bad news is that I am tethered. I look like a Borg (if you don't know what that is you're obviously NOT a Trekkie.) I spend the first hour of each night counting my breaths and consciously breathing in and then out and then in and then out. More good news--reports are that I am very quiet at night now. I can't tell that I'm feeling more rested, but I have noticed that I don't get up to use the potty overnight anymore. Evidently I was waking myself up with the snoring more than I knew!

Now, the lessons:

1. To You Young Thangs: Don't base your love for someone on looks. They change. Seriously. They do. Look beyond--or inward. Love is really about being broke and puking and and plucking ingrown hairs and rogue whiskers and diarrhea and sagging and still loving. It's taking care of each other through it all. It's about never even joking about getting a divorce. About feeling safe with each other.
2. To Men: BLL. (That means "Be Like Loy.") When I was totally bald he made a conscious point to rub my shiny little head. It wasn't something to be avoided or ignored. That meant the world to me. I looked OK, I was not grotesque, I did not need to hide from him. We don't look like we once did, but we still need to hear that we are OK, that you still love us.
3. To Me (and Women): I am more than boobs and hair. I am still the same person I was, just with more experience, more seasoned. I need to cultivate that inner Kitt and make sure she is attractive. After all, that's what matters.

Lecture? Yep. I guess I did. 

Grumpy or twinkly? 

Love,

Kitt.

4-25-16 Shhhhhhh! This is Secret!

Can I go on record as saying, "I HATE PASSWORDS!!!" ??

At first I thought it was kind of cool (back in the early days of the internet). Have a password to get your email (by modem...remember "You've Got Mail!" I loved that guy!) I felt kind of spy-like. Important. It was easy. Just the one password.

This weekend I tried to buy an app for my phone. It asked for my iTunes password.



(The above space is me, drawing a blank.)

So, I clicked on "Forgot your password?" which is my go to move when something asks for a password. Then you wait for the email to link you to the resetting of your password. Or you try to remember what clever answers you gave for your security questions. "Did I use a capital letter in my mother's maiden name?" "What WAS my first car?")

Finally I get to the screen to reset my password. I don't want to reset it. I just want the stupid computer to tell me what password I used for this particular program!!! I try one password. Nope, must not have used the PW within the past year. OK, I'll add a 1 to the end of it. Or maybe a 2.

I have tried to use the same password for everything. I know, I know. That's a terrible idea. But is it really worse than having to have a list of every password you have? I have to have a hard copy list, a list hidden on my computer, and one hidden on my phone, because you never know when you need to remember a password. I watch movies. In the cyber world they can figure it out in two minutes flat, anyway. Why bother? They can just search my desk area and they are all laid out.

But, once you try to use the same password for everything you run into problems. This site says one capital letter, one number. One says one special symbol, one number, one capital letter, one small letter. It just gets so confusing!!!

And those sadists who developed the need for passwords tell you to NOT use something that is meaningful to you. No pet names, no birthdays, no anniversaries. How in the world can I remember something if it's not special to me????? That would make me CONSTANTLY use the list.

So, finally I reset the iTunes password. Then it asked me for my Google password. Then my iCloud password. And my Apple ID. None of which I have a clue!! I had to go in a reset all those. But, one of those actually is the same as my iTunes password, which I didn't know until I had changed it already. So, then I had to go back and re-enter the passwords. And change my lists.

And your phone and your computer don't like it when you change the password on one of them, but not the other. So I have to go through it all again on the phone.

Then you'll go to some site that you don't use often and it will ask for a password. I have to think, "Well, what stage of life was I in when I set up that password??? Which one shall I try?" And you try a few and then, you guessed it, locked out.

I have my phone and my computer save passwords for sites every chance I get. That way I never have to remember. Another bad idea, I'm sure.

Loy just shakes his head in disgust with me. Is it dementia setting in? Is it chemobrain? Age? Why can't I get a handle on this?????

I hate those words, "What is your password?"

Or username.

Or Apple ID.


If you need me, I'll just be over here, pulling out my few strands of hair trying to remember what I used for a particular site.

Sigh.

Kitt.

4-11-16 I Live on the Edge!!!

Loy has certain things that make him bitter. Things that he has had to endure for years, being married to me. For example, back in the day of pantyhose he was very bitter that I bought pantyhose at the grocery store, therefore I thought they should be counted as groceries, NOT be deducted out of my clothing allowance. He's all about fairness, therefore I should not be able to eat more of the cookies than he does. And closet space should be equally allotted, even though we ALL know that is just wrong, wrong, wrong!!!

(As an aside...when I was in high school we lived in a house that had a master closet. My mom got the entire closest. Yep, the ENTIRE closet. Where was my dad's stuff? In the coat closet out in the entryway. Loy has always felt so sorry for my dad about this, but I think it kind of makes sense!!! ) (When we went on a car trip, his stuff was always packed in paper grocery bags, also. Bunny and I had suitcases. I can't remember if Mom did too. But, Daddy's stuff was in the paper bag.)

So I do as most women do, especially women with an empty nest. I commandeered the guest room closet for my off season clothes. And that works for me.

Last Friday I determined was the perfect day to "switch out my closet," bringing the spring stuff into our master closet and putting away all the black sweaters I own. This will ensure that the weather will change and we will have a freak blizzard, by the way.

Picture the scene...I'm on my last load of clothes. My arms are full to the brim (can arms be full to the brim?) because I don't want to have to make an additional trip for just a few things. I'm barefoot. And I stagger out of the guest room doorway. Well, almost out. I absolutely RAMMED my foot against the door frame.

Did I panic? Did I drop my load of clothes? Nope. Did I yell??? You bet I did!!! But I rose to the occasion and staggered to my closet and hung the clothes up--in the spots where they belonged. I was Wonder Woman!! When I finished I staggered out to the bed and put the damaged appendage up and talked out loud to myself, "Man, that really hurt!!!"

I have an average size foot--a 7-1/2--but it is a very skinny foot. And my toes have always seemed abnormally short to me. And they are the cutest little curly things you've ever seen. And I have a worthless pinky toe. When I took my sock off the fourth toe was kind of looking at a different toe than it usually does. It was rather freaky. But I know that doctors don't do much for broken toes, so I just limped out to the living room and sat with the offending foot up while I read a book.

But the next day the bruising started, and it wasn't my toe that was bruised...it was on the top of my foot. So, I decided maybe I needed to go get an X-ray just to make sure the bones were aligned and I wouldn't have a snaggle-toe for life. The radiology tech said, "Well, I see why it hurts. But I can't say more." It was broken, but the bones were ok, so I just tape and wear this lovely boot.

I'm sure Loy is thinking that if I just had the one closet, my problem would not have happened. But all you women know...

I'm in a fitness competition with 19 other family members and now I can't walk!!!! This is tough.

And the final two weeks of bowling are upon us!! Can I bowl??? (I've been practicing to see if I can do my approach in the boot--the verdict is still out.) Wednesday we're supposed to have a bowl-off between us and the #5 ranked team (we're #6) to see which of us places higher.

But all this got me thinking about life and the body and toes. My fourth toe is pretty worthless, even in the best of times. I have never once awakened and thought, "Gee, my fourth toe feels great today!" I've never thought, "I've done so much with that fourth toe today--I think I'll ice that one toe." It's just there.

Now that it's out of commission, I think about that toe often. It's affecting other parts of my body as I have to limp around. And it affects others because, while Loy may be bitter, he is nice and gets my drink at the restaurant and tries to NOT make me walk so much.

For a long time I've had a theory that all the different areas of my life are inter-related.  If I'm not reading my Bible like I should, my eating habits are usually out of whack too, and my house is usually a mess, and I'm often not exercising, and probably not taking my vitamins. Unfortunately, the area where I can most easily fall away are spiritual.

Maybe I don't see a daily concrete example of what my Bible time does, but if I don't do it, it major-ly affects the rest of my life. Same goes with praying. Or Bible studying. Or living as an example of Jesus to others. These things can be so small, but if they're "broken" it hurts the whole me.

What am I going to do with this revelation? Well, when I'm done typing, I'm going to clean my kitchen. Then I'm going to read a Psalm. And I'll pray--maybe for you!!!

And, I apologize for the winter weather that is undoubtedly going to hit Lincoln now that I've put my sweaters away!!

2-15-16 Hemming and Hawwing

Whew! It's been awhile since I wrote anything. Sometimes you just have to wait for that muse...that inspiration...that idea that I want to share.

I just re-read the last post and it was about my doggies. This one is too. Is this a sad life, that the only notable things that happen are via canine-ness??? So, unless you're a dog person, you maybe want to skip this entry.

I am a dog person. Always have been. Love, love, love them. I am NOT a cat person...at all. I am allergic to them, which probably contributes to that negativity. I think they are sneaky and unloving and would love to kill me. 

However, cats adore me. Seriously. A cat will enter a room full of people, walk around from person to person, but when it comes to me, jumps in my lap. More than once this has happened. The cat owner will exclaim, "Oh, he NEVER does that!!! What got into him????" He saw the challenge of someone not bowing to his cat-ness. That's just the way life goes for me. 

But, that is a bunny trail...

After we had Lex, Loy and I decided to get a dog. He was noncommittal on dog vs. cat personage when we met. He did not grow up with inside animals and did not really bond with them before his dad would make them get rid of the animals. But he was trainable!

Due to allergies and a hatred of shedding we always get something with part-poodle. (Side note: Did you know poodles don't have fur? They have hair. Therefore, they do not shed...but you do need to get them groomed. A fair trade-off, in my opinion.) Anyhow, we found a poodle-yorkie mix and paid our $5 for this mutt. This was in 1985, back before they named every mutt some fancy name and charged you lots of money. Beano, The Wonder Dog. She was never ending on her requests for ball throwing. She was fun with Lex (and, later, the other kids.) She was happy when you first met her, but didn't get embarrassingly jumpy. 

When Beano was kind of old, we decided to get a new puppy so that Beano could train the new dog in The Way of the Good Dog. After much searching I found a farm where the woman bred purebred poodles. However, her little money-maker got frisky one time and had a fling with one or more non-purebred dogs. Therefore, she angrily advertised poodle-mix puppies for $10. We drove down to Crete to check them out. 

It turned out that I liked one dog and Loy another, so we decided to get both. And Bandit and Smudge joined our family. We found out that we LOVED having two dogs. With one dog, she thinks she is a human...part of the family. With two, they realize they are dogs--they just think dog is the superior species! They are a pack. They wrestle and chase and cuddle. Beano hated them, though. They loved her, unfortunately. Let's just say Beano's last year was fraught with anguish.

Beano's end of earthly life experience was unusual. She was old and incontinent and had a hard time walking. We knew we should make that fateful trip to the vet, but did not want to do it. Finally, we had one can of prescription dog food left for her and we said when that was gone, we would take her in. THE NIGHT BEFORE WE WERE GOING TO TAKE HER I let her out, as usual. This is the truth...she never came back. We drove around, looking for this half-blind dog but to no avail. I got up several times overnight to see if she was on the front porch. Nope. The next day I went around to the neighbor's houses and checked under their bushes--I did not want the neighbor kids to find a dead dog body. But we never found her. I figure Elijah came with his chariot and took her. 

The only thing I did not do was call the pound. If they had her, I would have to post bail, then take her in to the vet. I decided it was cheaper to let them do the dirty deed, if they had her. 

Bandit and Smudge were good dogs--not on the Beano-level, but passable. Every time they slept, they snuggled together, it was adorable. They lived into their teens, then made that fateful drive to the vet one year apart.

We had a sabbatical year, so no dogs. But after we got home I told Luke (who was still living with us then) that we would get two dogs for him. I looked and looked. Poodle mutts were now called yorkie-poos or cockapoos or golden doodles and went for $800 or so!!! I rebelled! 

I had standards. No white or orange dogs. No dogs with super pointy noses. No dogs with smooshed noses. No underbites. Finally online I found one puppy that was a papillon-poodle mix, runt of the litter, the last one left. She was brown and black and cute as could be. We drove down to Kansas and picked up our little Papi-poo. I got to name this one and she became "Pip." 

A couple weeks later I found a shih-tzu-poodle mix in Minnesota who looked an awful lot like Pip...and I had talked to the pet store down here and they said this breed does not have the underbite anymore. So we drove up there to pick up our...shihtz-a-poo? (Loy refuses to call her this...and the breed is often called a shih-poo.) Luke got to name this one, so she became Sparky. 

But as the weeks went by I started to notice that Pip's roots were white and orange. And her puppy nose got very pointy. Sparky had an underbite, but I assumed her puppy pug nose would grow. Nope. So I have white and orange and smooshed AND pointy noses and an underbite in my dogs. 

They are crazy dogs, my Pip and Sparky. My frick and frack. My kit and caboodle. My Batman and Robin. My fish and chips. They never snuggle with each other. Pip has energy galore--guess that's a papillon thing. Throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball. Sparky is a snuggle, but she will just keep getting closer and closer and closer to your face. She wants to breathe your air. At the same time you are breathing it. 

They sleep in the laundry room every night (and now, finally, I am getting to the point of this entry). In the morning, while it's still dark Loy gets up and lets them outside. Then, when he lets them back in, they run their absolute fastest, tucking their little rears under and speeding, into the bedroom where they get to sleep with me until I deem the time civilized to get up. They bound up on the bed and lick and sniff me once, then they collapse on the bed. Every single day it is one dog on one side of me, one on the other. Touching me. It really is cozy. They are as if dead for that sleeping time. They do not move. There are no balls. There is no petting. We just cozy up and sleep.

About a month ago someone challenged me to read Psalm 139 and meditate on it. 

1 O Lord, you examine me and know.
2 You know when I sit down and when I get up;
even from far away you understand my motives.
3 You carefully observe me when I travel or when I lie down to rest;
you are aware of everything I do.
4 Certainly my tongue does not frame a word
without you, O Lord, being thoroughly aware of it.
5 You squeeze me in from behind and in front;
you place your hand on me.
6 Your knowledge is beyond my comprehension;
it is so far beyond me, I am unable to fathom it.
7 Where can I go to escape your spirit?
Where can I flee to escape your presence?
8 If I were to ascend to heaven, you would be there.
If I were to sprawl out in Sheol, there you would be.
9 If I were to fly away on the wings of the dawn,
and settle down on the other side of the sea,
10 even there your hand would guide me,
your right hand would grab hold of me.
11 If I were to say, “Certainly the darkness will cover me,
and the light will turn to night all around me,”
12 even the darkness is not too dark for you to see,
and the night is as bright as day;
darkness and light are the same to you.
13 Certainly you made my mind and heart;
you wove me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I will give you thanks because your deeds are awesome and amazing.
You knew me thoroughly;
15 my bones were not hidden from you,
when I was made in secret
and sewed together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb.
All the days ordained for me
were recorded in your scroll
before one of them came into existence.
17 How difficult it is for me to fathom your thoughts about me, O God!
How vast is their sum total!
18 If I tried to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
Even if I finished counting them,
I would still have to contend with you.

It dawned on me that when David says that God "squeezes him in from behind and in front" (or other versions say "hem me in") it is sort of like what my dogs do for me (although, obviously, God does it much more!!) When the dogs are there, I feel warm. I feel content. I feel loved. I feel like I do not want to move. I trust that they are not going to bite me (they would never bit anyone.) (How often I have thought, "I want to roll over but the dogs..." Then I think, "Oh, they're just dogs." and I roll over!) And when David says God places His hand on David...that is sort of like when the dogs place their heads on my legs. It's relationship. It's love. It's protection. They don't do that to people they don't know.

So, my dogs are naughty and rambunctious and crazy...but they remind me of God, which is good, right? They love me and protect me NO MATTER WHAT. And I'm still a dog person.

That's what I have to say right now.

Love,

Kitt.

10-5-15 My Dogs...I Could Just Kill 'Em!!

This is my confession. You'd better read the entire thing, because it may be my last blog ever, unless they let you blog from The Big House...The Pokey...Up the River...

But, let me tell you the entire story, from the beginning...

The above picture is the life my dogs lead normally. Pampered. Spoiled. Good looking (well, that may be debatable) City Dogs. Pip's main redeeming feature is that she is exuberant. Always happy. Sparky's is that she loves you. And wants to breathe your air.

Friday, October 2 looked like it was going to be a great day...and it was! In the morning Grant and my sweet Patootie came to spend the day. Just the two of them. Grant had to watch a runner at Pioneer's Park and Angela, being 8 months pregnant, elected to stay home with Carter. I had the windows open, so could hear their doors closing when they got here. Then I heard the sweetest thing EVER... "I'm here!!" And my little mermaid girl came running up to the door. I loved it!

(Carter wasn't here, but I couldn't pass up a chance to put both their adorable pictures up here. 

They are just the cutest ever!!)

After a lunch with Gramps, we played Barbies (well, she played with the Ariel Barbies, I dressed the rest of the sad little pile of Barbies Lex had left behind so many years ago.) Lex didn't really want to part with any of her Barbies, but finally gave me 6 or 7 for visitors. I didn't remember, until I was dressing them, that she left me all the Barbies who had chewed hands or really rat nest hair or other deformities! But, I dressed them all, so now they sit in their box looking rather snappy.

After the Mermaid left (who said, at one time, "I'm a mermaid. You can call me Payton.") I had just a little time until Luke came over. YAY! What a great day it was! I didn't tell him Grant was in town so right before supper Grant came and rang the doorbell and we had Luke answer it. They have always had a special bond--probably because Grant has the mentality of a 10-year-old boy!! :)

After supper Luke, Loy, and I played Legos. Which means that Loy built a cool structure and Luke kept saying "Can I decorate it now? Is it ready to decorate?" And I sorted Legos and put all the 2 x 3 tiles together and all the 2 x 2 tiles all together and...well, you get the picture. Loy loves the building and creating. Luke, the style angle. And I'm the behind the scenes organizer.

On Saturday, after their traditional Donut Day, Luke and I headed to the Loess Hills, which are north of Council Bluffs, with the dogs. We were going to spend the day out at Lex and Corey's 45 acres, 45 acres of totally undeveloped land. Luke and I had packed a cooler with hot dogs and s'mores fixings and some nutritional food as well.

I told you their land was undeveloped. This is what it looks like. And you just hike through the weeds. Corey refused to travel with a machete to make my path clear, can you believe it?

Luke with a walking stick on his arm. He thought that was pretty cool-

-and it was. God is so creative, isn't He?

We had a great time. Luke was kind of overwhelmed at first about how he could just roam wherever he wanted. He had a walkie talkie and we kept tabs on him, but he could explore to his hearts content. And the dogs? Well, the dogs were having the BEST DAY OF THEIR LITTLE DOGGIE LIVES!!! Running wild, sniffing, pooping wherever they wanted (well, it had to be said). Sometimes we couldn't see them and then we'd notice the weeds moving and then a little furry head would pop out.  This was the life they felt they were born to lead.

My fluffy dogs. With long ear hair and goofy tails and bows in their ears from their last grooming. City dogs.

They came back and had hundreds of little burrs stuck in their fur. Not the kind that just kill you when you touch them, but smaller, less hurtful things. Hundreds. Towards the end of the afternoon Corey and Luke were 4-wheeling and Lex and I sat at the fire pit and pulled burrs from their bodies. (They didn't like us getting near their legs or faces.)

My plan for the day had been to come back to Lincoln, drop Luke off at home, watch the rest of the Husker game, and rest and relax. Corey had me hiking some pretty steep mountains...OK, hills...and I was tired to the bone. Instead Loy and I sat and pulled burrs while watching the game.

We had their bodies completely cleared and worked on their legs and were doing really well. We tried the ears and tails but they were just a big jumble of burrs and fur. Kind of looked like dreadlocks for dogs. I decided to sacrifice the cute little doggie cuts and just cut the burrs out.

Carefully, ever so carefully, I hacked away at the burrs. Butchering their good looks. Their floofy tails now look like rat tails. Their ears uneven and scraggly.

But, here's the confession part, when I went back to even up Sparky's ears I nicked her ear and the poor baby yelped and ran. I looked at it and didn't see blood, so let her go. I felt terrible!!!

I still had to clip Pip, so I was even more careful. And I nicked her ear too, but not as badly. My girls were looking at me with those beady brown eyes with accusation. "We trusted you and you hurt us."

I herded them into the bathroom to give them baths. When Sparky came in she was covered in blood! I got her in the tub and sat there applying pressure to her little flappy ear. After awhile it stopped bleeding, so I bathed her. Ear was still not bleeding. I let her go and she ran out to Loy while I bathed Pip. When I finally got Pip out to the living room too I noticed that Sparky was all bloody again.

Evidently I got the bleeding stopped then she would go and shake her head violently and it would start again. I wrapped her in a towel and held her like a baby, all the while putting pressure on her ear flap.

"Loy, look up how to stop a dog's ear from bleeding...I can't be the only person who has ever done this!!" The internet said pressure. And corn starch. So I sat there and put corn starch on her little ear flap. No blood. But, as soon as I put her down, it would start again.

When we finally got it stopped (BTW, evidently doggie ears bleed excessively. Lots and lots of blood vessels.) we began to assess the damage to our house. Sigh.

Blood smeared on my new white cabinets (evidently she was rubbing her ear on them) on the carpet on the door posts (if the Angel of Death was passing by that night, we'd have been safe) on the wall on Luke's bed on the floor. Just little bits of blood spatter. How in the world does anyone think that they can murder someone and not leave tons of blood around?????? (Loy says if we ever murder someone we will have to plan for the blood. Hope it's not me he's murdering.)

Finally, around 8:30 or 9:00 I was to the point where I got out my carpet cleaner and did the carpets. I got lots of the blood up, but not all. So today I had to call a professional.

The dogs are doing fine now. They even like me again. They look like street urchin dogs. I thought about taking them in to the groomer today, but am just too darned embarrassed!!! Maybe when it's grown out a little bit...

I must be the worst dog owner ever. But, at least they had one glorious day of being wild dogs on the Loess Hills. They are NEVER going back there. Ever.

Don't tell anyone this story, OK?   :)

9-28-15 Stop me if you've heard this...

Dear Friends,

I probably already told you this story in person, but I want it documented in print. I mean, if you can't see it on the internet, what's the point, right? Actually, I plan on printing off my blogs at the end of this year and making myself a sort of journal of it all and this will make sure I remember my story.

I had been feeling sort of like I was inside a bubble, hanging out with the same people all the time. I've been reading Jen Hatmaker and she has a real vision for having friends from all walks of life, so I wanted to branch out into something new. Bowling was what came to mind.

Let me preface...I love to bowl. Loy does not share my passion. (I figure it has to do with him being left-handed, but am not sure.) Loving to bowl does not, evidently, ensure that you are talented at that game, mind you. So, a bowling league it is!

I went online to find a league and found out that the bowling alley about a mile away from my house has leagues that were open. I filled out the form and clicked on "Submit."

A week went by. Then two. I thought, "Well, I guess God doesn't really want me to join a bowling league right now." (Not a deep theology on my part, I'm afraid.) I didn't pursue the matter.

Then, on a Tuesday, while I was shopping, I got a call. "So, you're interested in a bowling league on Wednesdays?" Well, it turned out he had not one, not two, but three different leagues I could join. "There's the Wednesday morning league, the Senior League in the afternoon, or another league late afternoon."

I said, "Gee, I hope I'm not ready for the senior league!"

He responded, "Well, you just have to be 50." Drat. I was eligible.

However, after ascertaining that scores were, in fact, handicapped and this was a low-competition league, I chose the Wednesday morning league, which started the next day.

I walked in on Wednesday morning, envisioning me bowling with lots of young mothers with small children, imparting my wisdom and wit. This was not the senior league, after all. I walked in and what I saw was...grey hair. Lots of it. The other women in the league are (no joke) Francine, Virginia, Helen, Lois, Barbara, Doris, and...well, you get the picture! One woman I was up against the first week was on oxygen (she told me she is in three different leagues!) Another, whom I have not bowled against yet, uses a walker. But I think she can leave it behind to roll the ball...not sure. Several have specially drilled balls to fit their little arthritic fingers. You go, Girls!!

But these women can bowl!! And they are the friendliest bunch of women I have ever met in my life! They were all coming over to my team's lane to welcome us and each week they are just a joy to be around. We should all learn about welcoming new people from them!

Turns out the bowling alley had three women all new to this league that same week so, instead of putting us on all different teams they made us our own team. We are "The New Kids." And we are young, young, young. One late 40's, me mid-50's, and one early 60's.

The first week one of my fellow "Kids" said, "A year ago I weighed 150 pounds more than I do now." She looks great! Well, I couldn't let that stand alone, so I said, "Well, a year ago I was undergoing chemotherapy." Then the third Kid said, "Well, a year ago I had a liver transplant." OK, she wins!!!

I was telling some friends at book club about my bowling prowess (actually, I'm happy if I break 100) and one friend decided to join and be a Kid also. So we are a full team, all four of us. And the 4th has some health issues, so she fits right in! :)

I even went out (after two weeks) and bought a used purple ball, purple bag, and shoes (not purple). Loy says we need bowling shirts! Actually, various braces that I've seen the other league members wearing would be first--wrist, knee, special things to go OVER your bowling shoes.

So now each Wednesday I go over to Hollywood Lanes and throw a 10-pound sphere down a long, straight alley in the general area of some pesky pins that never seem to want to fall down. But I am having a great time with my new friends!! And, actually, hanging out there is kind of like finding the fountain of youth. I feel so young!

(There are still four teams who don't have a full team--if you're interested in joining us. Obviously, no skill necessary.)

Happy Fall!

Kitt.

8-28-15 Be Still

Stillness Before the Lord

Another cancer story…when I was in the midst of chemotherapy and I was so exhausted and feeling ick and weak, I couldn’t even walk from the bedroom to the kitchen without stopping to rest. One time Kammy had to come babysit me for a morning because Loy wasn’t sure that I could get a sandwich for lunch by myself. I became discouraged because my prayers were so repetitive. “God, no. Help me.” Over and over again. One friend gave me a real gift when she told me during this time, “You just work on getting better…leave the praying to us.” She wasn’t telling me not to pray, just that I was not alone and didn’t need to worry that my prayers weren’t good enough or deep enough or often enough.

Then things finally got finished. I started to walk at the mall. The first time we went once around the mall and had to stop twice to rest. It was a time to push myself. After awhile I could go around once with no resting, then twice…when the weather got warm, I was up to 4-5 times around the mall at a time! (Just FYI—walking around the inside of the mall, taking all the little hallways, is .7 miles.) This was a time of strengthening, my physical self and my spiritual self.

But that time passed…

Now, I have told you about my feet. They are numb. This puts me at a risk for falling (I’ve fallen four times since the first of the year—three sprained ankles, one skinned knee, one skinned shoulder, one sore hip). I have been doing physical therapy, not to heal my feet, but to improve my balance so that if I stumble, I have a better chance of NOT falling. At Madonna there are people all around me doing great stuff--recovering from strokes and from amputations and head injuries. Doing really hard, physically challenging therapy. Mine? Stand still, feet together. Focus. Now close your eyes. Feet staggered. 

To anyone looking, this looks like we’re doing nothing at all. But, it is important to regain that balance by being still. And it doesn’t come easily!

 
Psalm 46:10a ESV 
Be still, and know that I am God.
 
 
1.     Exodus 14:13 ESV
And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again.
 
2.     Exodus 14:14 ESV
The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”
 
3.     Exodus 33:21
Be still by the side of the Lord.
 
4.     Numbers 9:8 ESV 
And Moses said to them, “Wait, that I may hear what the Lord will command concerning you.”
 
6.     Ruth 3:18 KJV
Then said she, Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall: for the man will not be in rest, until he have finished the thing this day.
 
7.     1 Kings 19:12
After the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of a gentle blowing.
 
8.     1 Samuel 12:7 ESV
Now therefore stand still that I may plead with you before the Lord concerning all the righteous deeds of the Lord that he performed for you and for your fathers.
 
9.     1 Samuel 12:16
Be still so you won't miss the great things God is doing.
 
10.  2 Chronicles 20:17 ESV
You will not need to fight in this battle. Stand firm, hold your position, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf, O Judah and Jerusalem.’ Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed. Tomorrow go out against them, and the Lord will be with you.”
 
11.  Job 37:14 ESV
“Hear this, O Job; stop and consider the wondrous works of God.
 
12.  Psalms 4:4
Tremble, and do not sin; Meditate in your heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah.
 
13.  Psalm 37:7
Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not yourself because of him who prospers in his way, because of the man who brings wicked devices to pass.
 
14.  Psalm 46:10 ESV 
Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!
 
15.  Psalm 62:1-12 ESV
For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken. How long will all of you attack a man to batter him, like a leaning wall, a tottering fence? They only plan to thrust him down from his high position. They take pleasure in falsehood. They bless with their mouths, but inwardly they curse. Selah For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. ...
 
16.  Psalm 131:1-3 ESV 
Lord, my heart is not lifted up; my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.
 
17.  Isaiah 40:31 ESV 
But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.
 
18.  Isaiah 7:4
"Take heed, and be quiet; fear not, neither be fainthearted”
 
19.  Isaiah 30:15
”In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength”
 
20.  Lamentations 3:26
It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the LORD.
 
21.  Hab. 2:20;
”The LORD is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him”
 
22.  Zeph. 1:7
”Hold thy peace at the presence of the Lord GOD”
 
23.  Zechariah 2:13a
Be still before the Lord.

This is such a foreign concept to me--being still. I am a "do-er." But, obviously it is important for my relationship with God to grow that I am quiet and listen instead of just talking. 

Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary

1. (n.) The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.2. (n.) Habitual silence or quiet; taciturnity.

 Here is a post that I found helpful to my understanding. I hope you think so too.

“Every time a trial comes to me or my family, I think of the words from the Bible in Psalms 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God,” and I am often comforted. Sometimes, though, I wonder just what it means to be still and what exactly I need to do to make that happen.
 When we face difficulties in our life that would make it seem as if we are on a ship being tossed upon a stormy sea, how exactly can we be still and a strength to our family while a storm rages around us? As I looked up the definition of still in the online Merriam Webster Dictionary, not only was I enlightened when I learned the definition for still, but learned very valuable lessons from its synonyms as well.


Here are ten words and their definitions that can teach us how to be still in the times of a storm and recognize the power of God.

1.     Still: free from noise or turbulence; untroubled. 
When we are free from outside noise or turbulence, we are able to hear the still small voice of God's Spirit as he comes to comfort and guide us through our trials. Some of the noise we experience that could be blocking our ability to feel God’s presence is our own worry. When we learn to change our thoughts from negative to positive, we are more able to feel God’s love because we are in harmony with him. The noise and turbulence is replaced by a sweet melody of peace.
 
2.     Calm: a period or condition of freedom from storms; a state of tranquility. To be calm does not mean that the storm is no longer all around you, it means that the storm is no longer within you. The storms may still rage, but you are free from the effects of them. They no longer trouble you because you know in whom you have trusted. You are in a place where you no longer fear.
 
3.     Hushed: to put at rest; mollify-to soothe in temper or disposition. 
Often times, when trials come, we tend to get angry with God and cry out in complaint. When we do this, we lessen our ability to feel the Spirit, because we leave no room in our hearts for the Spirit to dwell. God cannot dwell in a heart that is full of anger. It is when we learn to put at rest our complaints and cast our burdens on the Lord, to hush our cries and wait upon him, that we will find solace. He will bind our broken hearts.
 
4.     Peaceful: untroubled by conflict; devoid of violence or force. 
Sometimes when difficulties arise, we allow the anger and frustrations from those trials to push us into violence, or we try to force our will upon the Lord. Neither one of these choices will bring us peace. When conflicts come and we are untroubled by them because of our faith in God, only then can we know peace.
 
5.     Placid: serenely free of interruption or disturbance. 
We can learn to be still as we pray, read scripture, go for a walk, meditate or give ourselves time to ponder free from interruption or disturbance. This not only allows us to communicate with our Heavenly Father, it allows our Heavenly Father to communicate with us.
 
6.     Restful: marked by, affording, or suggesting rest and repose; being at rest. 
Often times, the busyness of life makes it impossible for us to truly hear what God is trying to tell us. It is when we slow down and allow ourselves the opportunity to rest that our mind and heart can focus on those things that are of the greatest importance. God wants to talk to us, but we have to be ready and available to listen.
 
7.     Serene: shining bright and steady. 
While reading with my children during home-school, I learned that the sun does not rise and the sun does not set. It is an illusion. Instead, the Sun stays still, steady and bright, and as the Earth turns to face the sun, that is when the morning comes. The darkness of night comes when the Earth turns away. It is the same with us. In our trials, when we turn to face the Son, who is steady and bright, just like the Earth, we are filled with light. If instead we choose to turn away from him, the darkness of night will surely come. Choose to face the light.
 
8.     Quiet: gentle, easy going, i.e. quiet nature. 
When we are gentle and easygoing, we are more able to hear God’s commands. He gently persuades us to love him and serve others. We are more able to ease our own troubles, and we will carry God’s spirit within us, which will aid us in easing the burdens of others.
 
9.     Stilly: in a calm manner. 
When we approach life, and our trials, in a calm manner, we are more able to see the bigger picture and outline a plan of recovery. Not only does it allow us to have a clear mind, but it allows us to help calm the fears of those around us.
 
10.  Tranquil: free from agitation of mind or spirit. 
When our mind and spirit are still, our whole body is at peace. We are able to see things with a clear mind, feel things with a pure heart and hear the voice of our Heavenly Father with ears that are open and in tune with his spirit. We will know God because we will be one with him.

 
“Be still and know that I am God,” is not just a saying, it is a state of being. It is the ability to know God well enough to trust in his abilities to rescue you. As we learn to be still and trust in God, we come to know and understand that we are God’s children. We are never alone, never unaided and never forgotten. He will come to us. All it takes is for us to be still.”

Tiffany Fletcher

Tiffany Fletcher, author of "Mother Had a Secret: Learning to Love my Mother and her Multiple Personalities" http://motherhadasecret.blogspot.com/

Website: http://motherhadasecret.blogspot.com

Instead of running around like crazy-women, let's try to slow it down and just spend some time being quiet with God.