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I was so looking forward to having lots of free time during the Christmas weekend. I had it all planned out. Then the phone call came on Wednesday morning around 7 from my sister Marsha; Mom fell yesterday (Tues) in the parking lot of her apt complex and was fine until 3 am. At that time she was in so much pain she couldn't move. "Mom can't make it to the bathroom, can you go over there and help her"?

The weather was bad that morning and roads weren't horrible but they were slippery. As I got on the highway with my dog Honey in the backseat I started to put things together in my head; she's going to the hospital, I have to call for an ambulance. I admit I did use my cell to call her a couple of times while driving there but I really needed to know if her husband was there yet or not (they don't live together) and to let her know how close I was getting. Her voice said it all and I knew I was in for a long day.

My mother is 80. She has had a hip replacement, mastectomy, a pacemaker installed, a piece of her lung removed, a hysterectomy, gall bladder removed, apendix removed, parts of her spine fused. She has Gurd and many other issues including the fact that she is starting to show signs of neurological problems as well.

I got to her apt before the husband. She INSISTED on making it to the bathroom and changing her underwear and clothes before I call 911. Just after I got her taken care of and while I was helping her back to the sofa her husband walked in. Thank God! I couldn't wait to get her to the hospital, seeing her in so much pain and just knowing that she had probably broken the metal hip away from those fragile elderly bones.

In the meantime Marsha had called another sister Mary. Mary was very upset because mom didn't call her at 3 am, she lives right around the corner and could have been the first one there many hours earlier. But, it is what it is ~ and she didn't call me either, Marsha called me. In the back of my head I kept thinking "Who gives a shit?!" lets just get her some help!

At the hospital ED they assessed her imediately ( it was very quiet there ) and after about 6 hours had her admitted and into a room. Nothing broken, maybe a slight fracture or serious bruise but no surgery required. After about 6 or 7 different Dr's, Residents, Interns and Social Workers things started to settle down. She had IV fluids on board and heavy doses of pain meds along with a foley cathiter to hold urine.

Christmas Eve day; I had to work until about 1. Marsha, Mary and husband spent the morning/afternoon with her. I got up there around 2 and stayed until she fell asleep at around 7 or so. Chistmas morning I was there early and stayed for what seemed like forever while she slept on and off. It was nice that the hospital had cleared most of the floor the day she came in and it was fairly quiet up there.

Marsha got her a snazzy new walker, insurance got her a comode to fit over her toilet and she was sent home on Monday. She will have nurses for a week or so stopping by and between us sisters we took turns sitting with her yesterday. I got the late shift 'cause I had to work yesterday. I took tonight off so that I can do that shift again. Mary will have her 13 year old daughter there with mom all day today and Marsha will go over for a little bit to make sure meals and meds are taken care of. I will get her dinner and evening meds and get her set for the night.

My mother was a great mother when we were little. When she and my father divorced she changed into a drinking, selfcentered person who left us all behind. The youngest of us five, Beth, was only 6. The oldest was 16 and at 18 after graduating from HS took off without notice with her boyfriend and landed in Seattle. The rest of us struggled to survive and made lives for ourselves without a mother.

Everyone carries this anger, pain to some extent still, including my mother. But for God's sake, she's 80 now. I forgave her a long time ago, I see now that my two sisters are staring to also. That makes me very happy because my mother will die probably sooner than later and there will be no regrets. Just the love that skipped some years and the knowing that as a family, we can care for her with respect and compassion.

 

I love my computer, but a hand written letter is the most cherished thing to me. I do not ever receive any but remember the times that I did, and the feeling I had when holding them. There was a time a few short years ago that I was living ~by choice ~ secluded on top of a mountain, 2 hours from "home". ( hence Mountain Gypsy ) Every person I met was a stranger, I loved the opportunity it presented. I attempted a start over, new life at 50. I was 7 miles from the nearest paved road, the wildlife was abundant and some quite dangerous. But the discoveries were endless and daily. At that time I had a friend named Tiffany whom I wrote to weekly. Letters written by hand. In my letters I told her of my peaceful life on the mountain, the discoveries and the joys of living such a rural life. The sounds of the Amish carts replacing the sirens of the city. Once I sent her a clipping from the local newspaper ad wanting people to report their sightings of the Black Panthers that had been spotted nearby. That freaked her out as she is a city girl through and through.

The painful decision to leave my treasured mountain and return to the city came by neccesity. I never once received a letter back from her, but upon my return to make another attempt to start over she called me. She told me how much those letters meant to her, how her heart raced when she found them in her mailbox. She told me she had saved them all and would re-read them many times. To hold my letters in her hands knowing that each word was intended for her, a sharing of my life experiences in a place I had dreamed of living one day. Though I didn't get to stay on my mountain, it made a huge impact within me and I will never be the same because of it. Tiffany was the only person at that time who really understood the depths of my dilema prior to moving there and the depths of the pain of having to leave. So it worked out right that she ~ and only she ~ be the recipient of those letters.

We don't talk much anymore, Tiff and I. She has two small children in school, a loving and hard working husband and a very large family. It got to be quite annoying to try to talk to her on the phone as she inevitably would have conversations with her children at the same time, or she was dashing off somewhere ~ late, as is her MO ~ and "will call you later" never happened. But we had those times and she got the letters. One might think that it was one sided but I know at that time I was in her heart as a friend and my having just ONE person to share a lifelong dream with was more of a gift to me than I could ever say. I was all alone but not lonely. Not scared. Not sad. I was filled with a peace I hope to regain someday, maybe in other ways. Maybe, just maybe I will make it back to my mountain to live a quiet and nature filled life. If I don't, I will always know that I did and that one person was with me on that journey though she was 100 miles away.

I've spoken of my friend Sue often here in my posts. Isabella was her dog, a Dachschund. Beautiful long haired standard with the most unique Mahogany coat with black dusting's on her feathering.

Bella was rushed into the Emergency Clinic last Sunday night because of paralysis in her back legs. It was determined that she had a herniated disk and had emergency surgery in the middle of the night. During the week she developed an infection in a kidney which the Surgeon administered antibiotics for. As each day passed we all waited for her to show signs of getting better...even just a little bit. We would take her out for short little walks with a sling under her backside as she was still paralyzed in the back end. Eventually, the surgeon decided it was time for her to go home. That was this Sunday. Sue took her home and spent the night curled up with Bella on the bed.

By yesterday morning she had gotten so depressed she wouldn't eat, drink or show any signs of sparkle of her normal self. Her spinal chord had deteriorated at the disk site and the worst news was delivered by my Dr boss yesterday. Her spinal chord was turning to "mush" in BOTH directions. By the time Sue got her to my hospital she had lost use of a front leg and had no pain sensation around the shoulder area. Dr Boss determinded that it had invaded her brain stem. He said that shortly it would affect her ability to breathe. There was no fixing this amazing and wonderful dog.

I could feel the huge lump forming in my throat, hear Sue start to sob and then my tears flowed. We deal with the death of pets a lot, it's the shitty part of the job. But we've all been there and understand the hurt. It's different when you have a personal relationship with them though. Not to mention watching a cherished friend fall apart at the same time.

Interestingly ~ I noticed something about Dr Boss while he was telling Sue that there was no saving her precious girl. He started to sound funny, his voice was cracking and he was taking big breaths while he was talking. Holding the edges of the table as if he needed to do that to stay "professional" and calm. Like he was holding himself up. Now, I've known this man for 20 years, been in many euthanasia procedures with him, I've NEVER seen him show this much emotion with a client. Ever.

As much as he can be a wound up, big mouthed pain in the ass.....he is deep down a mush. I've always known that about him because I pay attention. I understand him for the most part. I think part of it was looking at Bella on his table. Knowing what she had been through and seeing her in the condition she was in. And I know for a fact that he was furious with the Emergency Clinic and the Surgeon. Why? Because they sent Bella home with Sue on Sunday morning and wouldn't take her back when Sue called them later that day to tell them that Bella was failing. To us that is an unspeakable crime.

But it's over and done. I stayed with Bella and Sue while she took her last breath in Sue's arms. I stayed with Bella while Sue left the room and then the hosptial. I took care of her after care and will be there today when the Pet Cemetary comes to pick her up.

My heart is heavy and I just can't stop crying.

Many years ago I used to love Christmas, everything about it. When I met Tim ( I was 18 ) that slowly changed after the first few years we were together. About 4 years into our relationship he started getting grumpy just about Thanksgiving time, then as each year progressed he turned to mean, then even meaner. Then I dreaded Christmas. He ALWAYS hated the shopping part and refused to let me shop alone. I wasn't capable of picking "nice" gifts according to him, he said I had no taste and was not "original" in my choices. So, I had to wait for him to get ready to pick out our gifts. He'd put it off and put it off until almost the very last day, the day he would be at his worst. The day that lines were long, stock was gone, traffic was backed up to the ends of the earth. And all he did during those last few days was yell at me. It was my fault. I would suffer through each Christmas like this for at least 10 years. I stopped getting excited about putting up a tree, lights, the food, wrapping our gifts real pretty so they'd sparkle under the tree. I finally gave up. I gave up on Christmas.

Did I? Or did I just get old? It'll be 20 years this January that I left him. I haven't ever once missed him, but I miss being part of a couple. Maybe, just being single for so many years has dampened the joy of Christmas for me. Maybe he ruined it for me forever. I don't know but what I do know is that life without him is so much better than life was with him. The part about Chirstmas I stick to is the REASON for Christmas to begin with.

So this year I have decided to decorate the front of the house. Using some of what I've had packed away for so many years now and a few things that I purchased yesterday, I am on a mission to create a beautiful display. I have it all finished in my head but getting everything there has proven to be a small challenge. Not to mention that our weather yesterday was bone chilling cold and very windy. After 2 hours I was pretty chilled and finally gave up. Today, it's supposed to be warmer and so, I'm heading back out there.

I won't do much decorating inside. It's just me and Honey and no one really ever comes to visit so why bother? Everything out front will go on a timer so when I get home at night my lights will be on and it'll be pretty and welcoming for me. That's gonna be just fine for me.

Christmas Day will be spent right here, in the house that Sue & Tom have given me & Honey to live in. In many respects it's just another day, but in other respects it a day to celebrate. Celebrate 20 years of freedom and the day that more miracles are given around the world than any other day of the year. I am safe, warm, well fed and healthy. I have the best dog in the world, the best family and the ability and strength to continue my journey of moving forward.

 

Yesterday we had 2 Dollar stores with fires. Each about two hours apart. Now, thinking the obvious....does someone have it out for the Dollar stores? Hmm, I'm wondering what they're beef is. Could it be the prices are too high? Do they think it should be the 50 cent store? Seriously, I question this series of events. The second store was Four Alarms and as I sit here writing this the news is on and they say that the fire crews are still there. Police too, and they've blocked off access to the area. A Dollar store, under siege. Who's next the Swat Team?

Now my mind starts to go to inventory. Are they gonna have a fire sale? Everything 25 cents? My local morning reporter says that all Dollar stores in the city and surrounding areas were on High Alert. Really? I mean, I'm sorry I can't help but be baffled. The Dollar Stores on "High Alert"? Seriously what has this country come to?

Not to take away from the severity of the situation for who ever is in charge, but I just can't wrap my mind around this. Jeff Foxworthy could have a fielday with this material. I wish I knew how to send him this story, 'cause I'd love to hear him put it in a routine. Even I have no shortage of one liners with this one.

 

Saw it - LOVED it! Fantastic movie. I've read a few reviews so far this morning and they weren't glowing but I didn't expect that. I'm a sucker for true stories and cheering on the underdog - this one didn't fail to bring it's point home. Or to tug at consciousness and a few heartstrings. The fear of it being a major tearjerker was dispelled with Sandra Bullocks strong, self confident character and her ability to be a fine and truly dedicated actress. Not a huge Tim McGraw fan but he did a great job and I actually forgot who he was until about halfway through the movie. Maybe that means he's a good actor too. I saw him in Saturday Night Lights and though I loved that movie I just don't get the draw to him. Maybe it's because I can't stand his wife Faith Hill.

The Blind Side will be on my "buy" list when it's out on DVD. I know that New Moon is the blockbuster of the weekend here, but The Blind Side was sooooooooooo worth fighting New Moon crowds for.

Dr. Boss was back to work yesterday....and in a very good mood. I expected him to be grouchy from jet lag, but he seemed fine. It'll probably catch up with him today. He hasn't been told of the two kitty emergencies yet, but there's time for that.

Spoke with my friend Sue last night and she has dog problems at home. Too many I think, but one in particular has set the whole pack off. Yeah, the little one she took in a few months ago. So, it looks like that one - Chica - will be back at my house for a while. Ugh. I had her twice last month. She has issues. Namely she bites. It took her a day or two to settle down here but after that she was fine. I don't let her get away with any crap here. She follows my rules. The biggest problem I have is the fact that I have to stand out in the yard with her on a leash at potty time. There are a couple of spots on the fence that she can get out of so I don't let her loose back there. And she's a barker, you know little dog big attitude. I enjoy Honey's quiet peacefullness, she only barks for a reason not because she's making one up. But considering the house across the street got broken into twice in one week, I suppose having a biting, yippy dog with a bad attitude won't be a bad thing for a while.

Tonight is my second to last ASL class. In a way I'm sort of glad. With darkness coming so early and the temps getting colder I just really like being home and cozy. I get tired so early now. I hate that. I have no energy after around 4 o'clock. I try to eat good and there's no shortage of "excersise" at work but I still just crash in the late afternoon.

So, that's my boring Tuesday post. Have to go get ready for work.

This is a true story, it happened yesterday. A group of construction workers were getting ready to pour concrete into 20 foot deep holes they had dug the previous day. For whatever reason there was a few moments of silence, all machines had stopped running simultaneously and the men heard a faint meow. Barely audible but they all agreed they heard it and started to look around and follow the sound. The search narrowed to the hole in the ground, someone pointed a flashlight down into the hole. There it was........a baby kitten, screaming and trying desperately to climb out. The men were not only shocked but also shaken because within just a few minutes they would have poured to fill that 20 foot hole. Then the ideas for rescue started to pass among them. The first attempt was a success, a line was dropped into the hole with a piece of wood attached. The kitten imediately grabed on to the wood piece and was raised up and out of his living hell. The next step was to get him wrapped up and warmed. He was wet, cold and covered with concrete and dirt.

It's the middle of the afternoon at the animal hospital and because Dr Boss is on va/ca in Portuagal, we're pretty slow. We have a fill in Vet there to pick up a few appts and sort of hang out while our other Dr does her surgeries. So, I'm stocking exam rooms and hear a mans voice in the lobby saying something like "Please help him". Unlike last weeks kitty emergency which came in sceaming and crying and sent the whole staff into instant emergency mode, this big construction guy comes strolling into the room I'm stocking with the receptionist who tells me to get fill in Dr. Which I really didn't need to because she heard some of what was going on and imediately left the newspaper she was reading and came. The guy, Evan, gently hands kitten off to Dr and Tech. He's visibly shaken but not hysterical, eyes a bit red, hands steady. He says to staff "Can you please help him, he wants to live." We all sort of looked at him...what an odd statement. But then he tells us the story of rescue.

Sometimes I wonder how many times a heart can break. Like what's the limit? Is there one? But back to the task at hand....we run warm tap water in the sink and Tech & I try to get him both warmed and rinsed of the amazing amount of concrete and dirt covering his tiny body. The calls come from Dr; Crash Kit, warmy socks, towels, cold tray, eye clean solution, IV and LRS and so on. What are the chances that Bonnie just took a full load of clean towels out of the dryer?! Now we wrap kitten in warm towels and start the accessment of his condition. Heart and lungs good. Hydration a bit ify but not critical. The eyes, well there's the main problem. He had so much grit inside his eyes that it scratched both his cornea's. It took us a good half hour to clean that crud out of his tiny eyeballs. Fill in Dr had Evan (kittens savior) get info about the chemical make up of the concrete. It wasn't dreadful but risky. So, while Tech and I comence to start a second bath, and feed this now better but very hungry kitten, fill in Dr sets to putting up meds for his eyes and pain. About an hour later Evan walks out of the hospital with a mostly clean, no longer starving and cold kitten. He is keeping the kitten. Names got mentioned but I think he settled on Mason.

I think about the "what ifs" and cringe. Then I think about this tiny little baby, feral no doubt, in the wrong place at the wrong time, screaming literally for his life. Cry? Oh yeah, all the way home last night. But tears of happiness and some of sadness because I just can't imagine being in his situation.

Ok, ok, ok so I cried about being way too old for the construction guy 'cause he was smokin' hot! And him being so kind and gentle to a baby kitten upped that by many notches! Great catch for a 20 something.

 

 

As I have posted here recently, between work and my ASL class I don't have nights free. Saturdays I do part-time grooming and Sunday is my catch up day. A day for laundry and visiting etc. The weeks just seem to fly by and at times it's frustrating to not do anything other than work. Chasing that almighty dollar to stay afloat. But my work is rewarding and my life....well it's okay, now.

Recently I have felt that inner draw to get back into my studio. That leaves me the very early hours of the morning. So I take a cup of hot coffee and my Ipod down into the basement and enter my "other" world. My world of peace, my favorite music, my papers, trinkets, inks, brushes, stamps, powders, paints and other assorted sundries that make my life complete. I will pull a pre cut card out of my drawer, it's white and blank and staring at me. It calls out to me "make me something beautiful", so I start. Looking over the tons of paper I wait until I "feel" something from one color or pattern and that's my base. Sometimes I can start and finish in one session, other times it takes me a few days and then there are those times that I have to fight my way through because nothing feels right. But I've made it a habit to finish one piece before I start another.

 

Right now I am working 5" x 7" premade cardstock because I can focus on the art right out of the box and because for selling purposes it's a cheaper price point and something that most people will put into a frame and hang on the wall but if they want to give the card they can do that too. Each card is signed "Mountain Gypsy Studio" along with the year and my name. This was a promise I made to a fellow artist years back. Her name is Cheryl Olney and she is one of the most influential people I have been lucky enough to have had in my life. During the absolute worst years of my adult life I worked for her and her husband Don in their studio. She happened to see my work one day and asked to see more which I sheepishly supplied. Admitedly, I was very nervous as Cheryl & Don have made art for The White House, Lincoln Center and many other high end places of which I can't remember right now.

It was Cheryl's suggestion that I work on the 5" x 7" cards for the reasons mentioned but she made me promise a couple of other things. First and foremost that I sign each and every piece. She insisted I call myself an artist and that I work with Archival and Acid free products. As for calling myself an artist I sort of argued with her a bit and then she said, "There is art and there is hobby, you are art!" They actually asked me to take bases of their work and do my work on them. That was a defining moment for me.

So, here are a few of the pieces I've made over the past few weeks in the wee, wee hours of the morning. And, I apologize for the photo quality. I just took fast shots for my records, I won't win any awards for photography and that's okay with me.