tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188739438050250792024-03-14T01:35:24.898-04:00Mind FlotsamThe ramblings and observations of an outwardly old woman, who is inwardly still young and vital - maybe.JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-45307373797266393822019-03-26T17:18:00.002-04:002019-03-26T17:18:25.882-04:00AGING<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2019 March 26</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last month I turned 69. Spare me the eye rolling, comments about age being "just a number", and the "don’t say you’re old" remark. The fact is that for me, 69 seems old, I emphasize, for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Allow me to explain. My Mum died at age 49. I was 26 at the time of her death. Both my grandmothers passed away in their very early 60s. These events set forth the idea that I would probably die by age 49, or 50. Perhaps not a rational conclusion to draw, but one I drew in any case. I spent the next 23 years following Mummy’s passing, certain that my own end would come in or around the year 1999. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I remember my 31st birthday clearly. I was cutting my birthday cake at Dad’s house, when I began to weep. Daddy in his matter of fact way asked simply, "What the hell are you crying about?" When I told him it was because I was getting older, he pooh poohed me and said something to the effect, that everybody was getting older, that’s the way it worked. Maybe so, but did everyone live with this dread? This assurance that they would follow in their Mother’s footsteps? Probably not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, I didn’t die at 49, or even 50. Glory be! I am now 19 years passed what I thought would be my expiration date! I should be happy, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, for some of those ensuing 19 years, I have been happy, and relieved. I remember when I turned 50, my dear Dad tried to get my goat by asking me how it felt to be a half century old. (This was his way of turning the tables, since I had asked him that very question when he turned 50.) But, I wasn’t upset by the question, rather my response was something along the lines of, I’m amazed and thankful to still be here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, what changed that amazement and gratitude into fear and dread in the last couple of decades?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ah, now we get down to it! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">LOSS. Loss of people, animals, places, things. Loss of abilities, jobs. Loss of memory. Loss after loss, piling on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet, the losses that seem to make me feel old are the loss of memory, loss of job, and loss of abilities. My dear husband tells me that at our age we are "supposed to be retired". He doesn’t think that not having a job is something about which to be sad or mournful. For me, a job is a reason to organize my life, to feel successful, and an indication that I can still contribute. Part of the reason for not having a job is tied to loss of abilities, both mental and physical. And the mental aspect is definitely tied to memory loss.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some days, I have to ask, "What day is it?" I forget where I have put things. I get in the car, drive to the end of my street, and have to consciously THINK about where I am going, so that I turn in the appropriate direction. And it is something I must do with the approach of each intersection. Driving has been difficult since the seven car pile up in Virginia in October 2016, but that problem was an anxiety issue. This difficulty with driving stems more from memory issues. I often will Google map where I am going so that I can visualize the route as I drive. One month recently, I forgot to pay the electric bill. I joke that I have a "Teflon memory", but it really isn’t funny to me, it’s scary. I am scared that these little memory glitches are the beginning of a larger problem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The physical matters that have recently reemerged, such as joint discomfort, difficulty walking distances, increased blood pressure, and sleep disturbances, I am hoping are related to the stress weight I gained back after taking a Nanny position for which I was not prepared. Before that job, which I took because I was bored "being retired", and because I was worried about the severe cuts we anticipate to our Teamster pension, I had worked steadily over the last five years to become healthier. Yet, now with additional weight returned to my body, I cannot stand for any length of time, so even that old joke about being a Walmart Greeter, isn’t funny - I certainly couldn’t stand on concrete floors for longer than an hour!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the books we’ve been reading in book club are sad. "Our Souls at Night", "Leisure Seekers", "Saints For All Occasions", nobody old in these books is happy and living a productive life. I don’t want my life to imitate this kind of art. Where I lack contentment, and autonomy, unless it is planning suicide. That’s just too sad and depressing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know how to navigate these waters. I am sacred that there will come a day when the losses will be one too many, and what is left of my Teflon memory will peel away. Then what? How does anyone find peace and contentment as they age? How does one adjust one’s expectations of self to fit with decreased abilities, physically and mentally? How do you keep fear at bay? And how do you prevent those decreased abilities from triggering a depressive episode? I want to age gracefully, but I fear that may be a huge failure!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am grateful that I have Raymond by my side. Sometimes I give him a hard time about being a "Pollyanna", but he is so grounded, AND he always knows what day it is! He is a rock, and when one of us has some problem he points out that between the two of us, we’ll be OK. I hope he’s right.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-11216782444938450852019-01-16T15:39:00.000-05:002019-01-16T15:39:21.524-05:00<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2019 Jan 16</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Funny the things you remember. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just now, sitting here on the couch with my dog, trying to ease myself out of a bad mood by talking to Deacon, while petting him, I suddenly, for no discernible reason, remembered my Grandma’s raincoat. I remembered that I claimed it as my own when she died. It probably didn’t fit me very well. I know it was too long, because I hemmed it myself. Seeing my amateurish stitches in my mind’s eye, now, these 50+ years later, I realize how odd I must’ve looked to my fellow 7th graders, but I felt beautiful in that coat! It was more of a fall coat, but rain resistant. It may have been a London Fog, because I have a blurry memory of the tag, though it meant nothing to me at the time. It was lightweight against the chill of autumn breezes. Colorful, but in a muted fall palette and laid out in small, uneven, rectangles, with dark borders, a kind of stained glass effect. When I think of that coat, Dolly Parton’s song "Coat of Many Colors" is the background music playing in my head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And remembering all of that, just now, brought tears to my eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wish I could say whether the tears were for Grandma, for the memories, for myself, or some combination, but I am uncertain of their true origin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I wonder if she bought that coat because she felt beautiful when she wore it. I wonder, did she love the colors, and the feel of the fabric, the soft velvet collar? It was unlike most of her other coats, which were camel colored, or brown, or black. It was quite a departure from her mink stools, which I found creepy even as a child, with the poor creatures faces still attached, albeit with glass eyes replacing the real thing. I wish I could even say with clarity, that I claimed the coat because it was a connection to the Grandma I lost at age 12. I cannot. But, I am grateful for whatever quirk of memory lead me to reminisce about Grandma "Up Morningside", as we called her, on this dreary afternoon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This was my mother’s mother. My very proper Grandma, who wore gloves and a hat when she went to church, or shopping downtown. My Grandma who smoked Herbert Tarreton’s, but never in public, because, "A lady never smokes cigarettes in a public place, and never on the street!" My Grandma who prayed the rosary, quietly, each evening after dinner, sitting in her Queen Anne chair, in the living room of her and Pap-Pap’s apartment. My Grandma who watched Lawrence Welk and Bishop Sheen on TV. My Grandma who went to mass every Sunday, on Holy Days of Obligation, and on anniversary dates of the deaths of loved ones. Grandma, whose paternal grandparents came form Ireland, and whose maternal grandparents were from Ohio and New York, and whose Mom & Dad were born in Minnesota and Ohio, respectively. my Grandma who was herself from a large family, being child number 5, of 7. My Grandma who married a man called "C.V.". My Grandma who gave birth to one child, either stillborn, or who died as an infant. She never spoke of the child. This is the Grandma who adopted a 6 month old girl from Rosalia Foundling Home, and named her Jean. This was my Grandma who never hugged the grandchildren. She was kind, but not warm, or open. This is the Grandma, at whom I lashed out verbally, at age 10, hysterically screaming and crying that she liked our cousin David better than she liked us, "your own grandchildren". Poor Helen! Grandma, I am sorry for being needy, and dramatic! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Most of what I know is after the fact. But the few true memories I have, that bubble to the surface occasionally, keep me warm, like that coat.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-20528450157108143742018-03-04T16:18:00.000-05:002018-03-04T16:18:06.659-05:002018 March 4 Regret & Gratitude<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
2018 March </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Gratitude and Regret</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
In my Facebook feed on the evening of March 3, I read that Fr. Angelus Shaughnessy had died. The sadness I felt was overwhelming. Not because he had moved off this earthly plane, at age 89, but rather, because I had failed to reach out to him. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Fr. Angelus’s presence in my psyche has always been strong. Perhaps because I tend to see connections in places and between people that others do not. Perhaps, because I met him initially during my 'formative' years. Perhaps, because he reached out to me when I opened my soul to him, at a time when I was still in grade school, but was certain that I was a horrible sinner. Perhaps, because he seemed to "appear", like when I was going down the dial on the TV and there he was, saying Mass and preaching! Perhaps because he was the first person I ever heard use the expression, "An encounter with Christ". All I know, is that Father Angelus, has remained a touch point for my mind and heart for most of my life. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
This started out to be writing out my feelings of regret. But, perhaps it will be about gratitude, too.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Way back in the fall of 1963, I attended a Youth Retreat at St Augustine’s Church. The details of why or how slip through the mesh that is my memory, but several things stand out about the experience.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I remember Father Angelus, and Father Carl. I remember a prayer book called, "Youth Before God". I remember going to confession, with Fr. Angelus as my confessor. I remember baring my soul as I had never done in the confessional prior (or since, I imagine). I remember the actual feeling of lightness as my sins were forgiven; a feeling of joy, peace, and contentment. I remember that the experience was so intense, that I wrote Fr. Angelus a letter afterward. I remember, too that I very much wanted to purchase the prayer book at the retreat, but I had no money. I did, however, have a kind, generous, caring Grandmother, who was probably the one who initially got me interested in going to the Youth Retreat. So, I went to her, and explained how I wanted the prayer book, but didn’t have the $4.35 to buy it. She gave me the money. I, in turn, wrote a letter to Fr. Angelus, explaining my desire to buy the prayer book, and recounting the incredible incident I experienced by way of my confessional event at the retreat. I mailed the letter, and imagine my surprise, when less than a week later, Fr. Angelus showed up at our front door! He brought with him the prayer book I so desired, and stood on the front porch with me, explaining that what I had experienced was what he called, "an encounter with Christ". </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Now, reading this, I am struck by how profoundly that experience touched me. I remember little else from the retreat, except for the time in the confessional and the feeling of pure peace and joy that developed in that moment, and the kindness of two adults toward me. Fr. Angelus, who took time to deliver the prayer book, and then took time to talk to me, never discounting or disparaging my experience, but treating me with kindness and respect. And, my Gram, who indulged me, gave me the money I needed, (probably at some personal sacrifice to her own budget), because she loved me, and wanted me to grow spiritually. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
My Gram did that kindness for me in September or October of 1963. She left this world in December that same year. That was a realization that only came to me as I was writing this. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
As for Fr. Angelus, many times over the course of my life, I have thought of him, prayed for him, and wanted to reach out to him. I remember once, stopping at the Franciscan office and asking about him. It must’ve been around the summer of 1967, because I was at St Augustine’s to make arrangements for the transfer of my records to Peabody High School. The woman in the Franciscan office told me that Fr. Angelus had volunteered for a missionary position in New Guinea the previous year. So, I read what I could find about New Guinea, but I never wrote to him. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Then, years later, I was perusing the TV offerings one day, and came upon a channel I had never heard of, EWTN. There was a priest offering Mass, and he looked very much like Fr. Angelus. Indeed, it<i> was </i>him! He was in Alabama. If I wanted to, I could tune in to Mass and his homily, right in my living room. Then, as happens, years passed. I searched for him on EWTN, and he was gone. But we were now in the age of the internet, so I could look him up online, and I did. When I rediscovered him, online, the information was that he was in ill health at St Conrad Friary. I thought of him often while we were traveling, but again, never reached out. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
When we returned to western PA, I assumed Fr. Angelus to still be at St Conrad, though I never investigated. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Turns out that he had a couple of bouts with cancer, though after one, he was pronounced "a cancer survivor", according to something I read today. In any case, I never reconnected with him, even though he was there in my head and in my heart, intermittently, lo these many years. That is a regret. The rest - is gratitude. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-17977216304811922432017-11-30T15:29:00.000-05:002017-11-30T15:30:38.327-05:00grief / joy<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal;">
2017 November</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal; min-height: 28px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Grief/Joy</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Recently I reread a post to our now defunct travel blog, in which I memorialized Greyla, who had been our 'final' dog and also our travel companion. She left us in November 2014, eleven months after my Daddy died. Daddy was diagnosed with stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer in February 2013. We left Florida, and returned to Pittsburgh, in order to spend time with him. During our stay in the only campground open in winter in the Pittsburgh area, our then nearly 14 year old dog, began to present symptoms which lead to her having major surgery just a couple of weeks before her birthday. At the time, I told God that I could not handle losing both my Dad and my dog in the same year. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Seemed like God decided otherwise. My Dad passed away in January, 2014. We had Greyla with us until November, 2014. Both gone in the same year, granted eleven months apart, but still… I supposed that God decided eleven months was enough space for healing. It really wasn’t.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
All of this has resurfaced in the past couple of days. I have begun to revisit the cumulative grief, and to a lesser degree, the joy, that we experience when we open our hearts and allow ourselves to love.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
The catalyst for the current examination of joy, and grief results from our current experience as foster parents to a lovely, sweet, gentle, 12 year old black Lab, named Coco.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Coco was taken to the Beaver County Humane Society by the son of her previous owner, with the request that she be euthanized. The shelter staff explained that they could not, in good conscience, euthanize her simply based on her age, but offered to take her into the shelter, and try to place her, if they would sign Coco over. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Coco’s entrance into our lives and hearts came a couple of weeks later.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Ray and I often do cat transports for Beaver County Humane Society, and also happen to be friends with the veterinarian currently working at BCHS. Those two things worked together to effectively draw us into the world of fostering, which we had never even considered prior to August.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Before Coco came into our lives, I had been adamant that I was done as a dog parent. I had loved Blue, Jake, Baxter, Katie, and Greyla. I had cried tears of loss with each of them, but especially with Blue, and Jake, and Greyla. I had changed. I now appreciated having a clean house. I was so certain that dogs were part of my past, and not of my future, that we adopted a bonded pair of kitties. "Yes!" I declared,"Cats are so much easier than dogs." And I enumerated all the ways in which that was so. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Yet, when we sat in the visitation room, at the shelter, in August, with Coco, she began to worm her way into my heart, stink and all! Jump ahead, from our initial meeting with Coco, on August 16, to the day we brought her home, on August 19, to how we have fallen in love with her, to very recently, when we became worried about her health. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
A few weeks ago I began to notice that Coco’s breath was getting very stinky. My concern was that she might be developing a renal issue, although her fluid intake and output remained consistent. Then last weekend, I noted that her water was tinged pink after she had been drinking. I tried to examine her mouth, using a flashlight, but couldn’t really notice anything wrong with any of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, or her gums. But then, I am not a veterinary medical professional. So, I contacted the one person I could access easily at the BCHS, via messenger on Facebook. She, in turn, contacted the medical person from the shelter. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Then later, during business hours, I was at the shelter for a transport, and spoke with one of the technicians, who said that there would be no Vet available until Tuesday, since the shelter is closed for business on Sunday and Monday, and this was Saturday afternoon. I said that I understood, and that I would’ve texted the Vet personally, but really didn’t want to impinge on our friendship, especially since it didn’t seem to be life threatening, and the amount of pinkness left behind in her water seemed to be lessening. Of course, her breath was still atrocious! But, it kind of was beginning to match her general metabolic stench, for which we have not yet found a cure.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Weird, huh? Coco is old, and stinky, but we love her! She is simply a sweet, gentle, amazingly non-reactive, dog. She is sweet with our kitties, and with our next door neighbor’s kitties, as well. When we are out walking, and dogs bark at her, she never reacts. She is the most "chill" dog we have ever known. She is very predictable in her day to day habits. She eats what we give her. She takes her medication, her supplements, and anything else we offer her, without any drama, or problem. She actually prefers when I place the paste-like probiotic she takes, in the palm of my hand, and allow her to lick it off, rather than placing it in a syringe and squirting it into her mouth. She never has attempted to get on any of the furniture, or the bed. She dislikes being too warm, and often opts to lay directly on the tile floor, instead of on the rug, or on her bed. She barks only when she is needful to go outside to pee or poop, and then it is generally one, sad, plaintive "wooof". She is simply, a good dog. And I love her! And, she loves me. She usually will follow me to whichever room I am in, and when I go into the bathroom, she stares at the shut door, until I once again emerge. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
So, grief and joy… currently the grief is because we will, in all probability, lose Coco sometime within the next 2-3 months. She has an infected, cancerous growth under her tongue. I can, today, type that without immediately being reduced to a sobbing mess. She is on antibiotics to try and get the infection under control. So far, her appetite is not affected, nor is her ability to chew. She does not exhibit signs of pain. So, the plan is to offer palliative care, observe and treat any pain development, or appetite issues, and help her to feel loved, cared for, and comfortable, until the end of her days. The joy currently comes from remembering how sad and forlorn she looked in the kennel at the shelter, and knowing that she has been happy here, with us. The joy comes from waking up in the middle of the night, and hearing her snoring on her bed, in the corner of our room. Joy comes from simple things, like taking her for walks around the neighborhood, watching her scarf up her kibble and bone broth, seeing her stroll to the kitchen after our walk, because she knows that’s where the treats are, and she knows that she gets a treat when we get home. Today, joy came from watching her catch 6 hulless popcorns in a row with missing. Joy comes from knowing that she has known love in our home. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
But, grief and joy come and go, and not always in balance.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Hearing the diagnosis on Tuesday afternoon was a gut punch! And it opened unexpected flood gates to past grief. But, I am blessed to have a good friend who offered support, and insight. I am also blessed to have a "pollyanna" husband, who even in the midst of this circumstance, which affects him too, was able to find good. It is a hard situation, but we have been through hard events before, and come through, so I have faith that we will ultimately be OK. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
In the meantime, we will walk our sweet old girl, brush her, give her treats and medicine, put bone broth on her food, cook her brown rice because she likes it, let her sleep where she wants, listen to the sound of her snoring, help her to live a happy, loved rest of her life, and be grateful that we brought her into our home, our lives and and our hearts! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-43617757937982189892017-11-18T17:51:00.003-05:002017-11-18T17:52:49.575-05:00Driving Anxiety<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
2017 November 18</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
From a Facebook post by Anxiety & I:</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal; min-height: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'American Typewriter'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms"; line-height: normal;">"</span>The thing about an anxiety disorder is that you know it is stupid.You know with all your heart that it wasn’t a big deal and that it should roll of of you. But that is where the disorder kicks in; Suddenly the small thing is very big and it keeps growing in your head, flooding your chest, and trying to escape from under your skin. You know with all of your heart that you’re being ridiculous and you hate every minute of it. The fact that many people don’t recognize or have patience for your illness only makes everything worse."</div>
<div style="font-family: 'American Typewriter'; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;">
__________________________________________________________________</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
THIS! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
This is so true. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
My experience with anxiety/panic has become intensified since our involvement in a seven car collision in late October 2016. I cannot say that I never experienced anxiety related to driving prior to that incident. I <i>can</i> say that the anxiousness was never debilitating before. I could always mollify any anxiety by preparation. If I blocked out a course to follow, I was usually OK. If possible, when time was not a factor, I often would travel secondary roads. The advent of Google Maps and street view, which allowed me to familiarize myself with roads and landmarks along my route, was a definite boon. Yet now, today, well over a year past the accident, I find myself becoming a total basket case when required to drive on certain 4, or 6, or more lane highways, particularly in high traffic situations.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I know that what I am freaking out about is performing a common action (driving a car, in traffic, on a multi-lane highway). I know this is something I have done without incident in the past, and hope to do without incident in the future. BUT, in the here and now, I am flooded with anxiety that expands and grows until the panic is all I am aware of,... well, that, and the tunnel vision, the inability to breath normally, the sometimes crushing chest pain, facial tics - <i>and the fear - and the anger!</i> </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I get angry!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I get angry with myself for feeling this way. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Angry at other drivers who don't seem to have any fear of anything! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I get angry with passengers who don't "get it", with family who seem completely unable to understand why their wife, sister, friend, is hyperventilating behind the wheel. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Angry - mostly at myself for allowing(?) this disorder to consume me and become such a huge part of my life!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I am angry <b><i>now</i></b>, just thinking about my inability to simply drive on a multi-lane highway to go visit my pseudo grand kids, my friends, even my nearby family. If I can't get there on a "back road" - a 2 lane road, with top speeds of 45mph, I can't go! Oh, there are a couple of local 4 lane roads I drive on, but never with complete ease or with anything resembling relaxation. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
This is NOT how I planned to spend my retirement! I hoped with free time, would come visits to friends and family; jaunts to the Great Lakes, searching for beach glass. Instead, my panic keeps me prisoner. I want to be able to get in my little Subaru and drive to have lunch with my friend in Ohio; to visit N and G, outside Montreal; to travel to the UP again; to vacation with my brothers and sister<b><i> anywhere</i></b>; to finally meet up with people who have become good friends via the Internet. Those things are not going to happen as long as anxiety wells up, leads to panic, and as in the latest attack, cause me to think I am having a stroke, because of the tics I can feel happening in my face. Those came along with the shallow breathing, the crushing pain in my chest, and tunnel vision. Add to the mix the fact that my brain seems to lose the ability to think rationally, to view the problem and find any solution. Even if the person next to me becomes aware that I am in dire straights, unless they know to give me specific, detailed instruction on how I should proceed, what they say will not penetrate my brain in any useful way. It truly is a nightmare, and when I am in the middle of it, it feels as if there is NO ESCAPE!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
When I try to ignore it, to press on, as I did on the way home from the family vacation my brother invited me to share, I ruin the experience for everyone because of my crippling panic. Where the post says, "You know with all your heart you are being ridiculous and you hate every minute of it," that is absolutely the truth! I knew I was NOT having a stroke, as I drove along I-64, outside of Norfolk. I knew I was being "ridiculous" and I DID hate every minute of it! But, I was powerless to stop it! </div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'American Typewriter'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<strike><br /></strike></div>
<div style="font-family: 'American Typewriter'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-85932566631968669832017-11-11T20:06:00.001-05:002017-11-11T20:06:13.076-05:00ADAPTATIONS/ADJUSTMENTS<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal;">
Adaptations/Adjustments</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Our Eva, one of the bonded pair of kitties we adopted from the Animal Rescue League, through their foster Mom, Jackie, in January 2016, is back in our home again. She had been out and about to places unknown for part of the summer and fall. She escaped in the wee hours of the morning, on August 24, and remained an escapee until this past week, when we were reunited.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Now is a period of adjustment. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
The adaptations are not just for Eva, though a few things that directly affect her have changed since she left so abruptly. It is also, a time of adjustment for Tubbs, Eva’s playmate and friend. There are modifications to be made by the humans in the house currently, as well, since there is an additional person present for a few months. It seems as if the only creature with no need for any adaptation relating to Eva’s return, or the presence of another human, is Coco, our foster dog. Coco is about the most 'chill' dog I have ever met! Relatively non-reactive, in any circumstance.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
There have been some big changes related to the cats: their play areas; the placement of their litter boxes; location change for feeding of dry cat food. Some of these modifications happened bc of the need to keep Coco from eating the cat’s food. Some reworking, like their play area, and moving litter boxes happened because of our friend coming to visit. We needed to give PK a room on the second floor, and use of the half bath next to her room. The room chosen for her stay is at the rear of the house, and formerly contained the large cat tree. The cats previously had use of both bedrooms on the second floor as a romping area where they chased one another to their heart’s content. The half bath was where one of their litter boxes lived. Tubbs seemed to be adapting to the cat tree being in the front room, and the placement of the litter box in the corner of that room, as opposed to in the half bath, since PK’s arrival nearly two weeks ago. Of course, all of this was before Eva returned. Since her return three days ago, I’m guessing this has been a lot for her to habituate to. PK, too has to make adjustments now that there are two cats attempting to reclaim what is meant to be her room.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Poor Eva seems a bit more skittish than she used to be. She always was profoundly reactive to sudden movements, and to loud noises. She is even more so now. She used to be a very quiet cat, who rarely meowed, and when she did it was very softly, barely audible. Never once did I know her to hiss or to growl. All that has changed. It makes me sad to wonder what kind of situations she faced that she has developed into a hissing, growling, loud meowing creature. She and Tubbs were best buds. Not so much, at present. To his credit, Tubbs seems to be able to give Eva wide berth when she needs it, yet continues to approach her periodically, as if trying to jog her memory -- "remember when we used to play like this?" </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I see gradual, tiny improvements in Eva each day. Last night, I went to bed before Raymond, and I was surprised when Eva jumped onto the bed, curled up next to my tummy, allowed me to pet her, and purred, contentedly. It didn’t last very long, though. She heard PK coming down the stairs into the kitchen, and that was enough to cause her to bolt. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
An advancement came today, as she ate both her morning and evening wet food in the place where we have always fed the cats. Another positive development happened when Eva stayed put, eating her wet food this evening, after Coco entered the kitchen. Coco sat with her hindquarters very near to Eva’s, and Eva stayed, eating. Yesterday, that action would’ve caused Eva to dash from the room. In fact, yesterday, Coco simply entering any room where Eva was, would cause her to run for the basement.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I guess readjustment comes in baby steps. I truly hope that Eva regains her sense of peace and trust, especially where Tubbs is concerned. Still, it has only been 3 days, and she was gone from us for 67 days! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-74823937411236157132017-11-11T09:34:00.003-05:002017-11-21T16:41:19.680-05:00EVA'S RETURN<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2017 November 11</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One of our two cats, Eva, AKA 'Eva Diva', has been returned to our home, after spending nearing eleven weeks at large. We are ecstatic to have her home again! The strain we felt, caused by her unknown fate, was horrible. Many people encouraged us continue to be hopeful. They sited examples of cats who had been gone for up to a year before suddenly reappearing. But, as time passed, we were less and less hopeful that our Eva would ever return to us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We fielded and reacted, over the months, to phone calls in response to the flyers we plastered around our area, as well as posts on various social media sites, and correspondence with various area shelters. We made trips at 10pm to investigate "a cat on the deck that might be yours", as well as long drawn out vigils in the very early morning in front of a house where, "I have been feeding your cat for a month". None of these produced even a glimmer of our Eva. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We set up a trap, baited with sardines and dry cat food, and included clothing with our scents.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We climbed through the woods, searching tree tops.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Kind neighbors searched the Park nearby each time they walked their dog, and walked around the area, calling her name.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We went door to door in the neighborhood and a couple of blocks beyond, passing out flyers with Eva’s name and picture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yet, ten weeks and five days passed, and we had no idea what had become of Eva. Ray, ever an optimist, insisted that she simply had been picked up by someone because she was a sweet, friendly kitty. While, I, the depressive, pondered the possibility that she had been killed by a coyote, or worse. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then, on Tuesday evening, November 7, we went to Carnegie Music Hall in Homestead, for a concert. I turned off my phone, so as not to have it be a distraction from the music. There was also a Penguins game that evening, and as I shut my phone off, I saw that the Pens were ahead, 2-0.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">During intermission, Ray went off into the crowd, while I stayed my seat, pulling out my phone, intent on learning the current score of the Pens game. Imagine my shock when I turned my phone on and saw numerous messages in a variety of formats, from Jackie! (Jackie was the young woman who had fostered Eva & Tubbs after they were spayed and neutered by the Animal Rescue League) The very first thing that caught my eye was a picture she sent. A picture I <i>KNEW</i> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>immediately</i> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">to be Eva! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It seems that someone of one of the social media pages had made the connection between a cat their grandfather had taken in after feeding it for awhile outside, and my and Jackie’s posts of "lost Eva", on social media!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was ecstatic! I called Melanie, the woman whose PapPap currently had Eva. I messaged, and then called Jackie, who confirmed what I thought : THIS IS EVA !!!!!!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When Ray returned to his seat, I filled him in on everything that had transpired. He, too, was 99.9% certain that this was <i>indeed</i>, our Eva! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Because we were in Homestead, and our kitty was in a warm home in Harmony Township, Melanie and I planned to meet up the following day, after she got home from work, at her Grandfather’s home. It was going to be a long day of waiting, especially after such a long time missing Eva. But, I understood that Melanie wanted to be present when we came to identify Eva, especially since she orchestrated the reunion. But, also, because her PapPap had grown fond of Eva, and he is of frail health, and she was concerned for him.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Melanie called, and we planned to meet at her Pap’s house at 6PM. Her Pap is a sweet, kind soul. He was gracious to us, even as he teared up over Eva, whom he called, "Bubbles". But, I’m getting ahead of myself…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When we came into the living room, PapPap was sitting in his recliner, watching TV. Eva was sitting on the sofa, behind and to his left. Melanie was present, as was her husband, sitting at the other end of the couch from Eva. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Eva had her head down as we entered the room. I saw her, and said, "Eva... Eva Diva", as I would’ve if I were calling her to come eat. When she heard my voice, her head snapped up, she looked directly at me, and her already big eyes became saucers! It was amazing! After months of looking, seeing cats who were sort of like her, but not her, this was simply a miracle! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We spoke with Pap at length, letting him know how grateful we were for his kindness, and his empathy toward Eva, and how we had grieved her escape since late summer. We wanted to tell him he could come visit her, since we only live ½ mile away, but Melanie had asked me not to make that offer. Pap struck me as a sweet, kind, gentle human being who is perhaps in frail health at this point in his journey. He was concerned that we had a litter box for "Bubbles", "because, you know, she’ll use it!" I was touched deeply by his concern for this "stray" cat he had been feeding and then brought into his home because the weather had turned too cold/wet for her to be outside! After the emotional ups and downs over the past ten plus weeks, while Eva was missing, this neighborly, compassionate, considerate, elderly man restored my crumbling faith in the goodness of people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Eva, our little Diva kitty is HOME!!!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-5576089671915394042017-10-23T11:54:00.000-04:002017-11-13T20:10:46.644-05:00A Day Trip<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal;">
2017 October 20</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal; min-height: 26px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal;">
A Day Trip</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal; min-height: 26px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 22px; line-height: normal; min-height: 26px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We are on a two week vacation in Corolla, NC, the far north end of the Outer Banks, in Currituck County, North Carolina. By "we", I mean my three brothers: Vinny, who rented the house and invited us along; Dave, who lives in Vinny’s house in Pittsburgh; and Mike, who lives in a different neighborhood in Pittsburgh. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Even though Ray and I spent nineteen months living in our RV on Hatteras Island, I had never been to the Shackleford Banks of NC, and thought this might be a pleasant excursion for us. So, I spent some time planning and figuring both the time and distance elements, and asked the brothers if they’d be up for a "day" trip. Vinny declined, but Mike & Dave were up for it, so I made reservations on the ferries from Harker’s Island to Shackleford, and Cape Lookout, as well as for the ferry from Cedar Island to Ocracoke, for part of our return trip. We knew the drive through NC would require us to depart no later than 5 AM, as the map app said it was a 4 hour and 40 minute trip across NC and south to Harker’s. The ferry service said to arrive 30 minutes prior to your departure time, which we managed easily.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We discussed with the ticket agent the times for pick up from Shackleford to go to Cape Lookout, as well as the time needed to drive from Harker’s to Cedar in order to arrive in time for the 4 PM ferry from there to Ocracoke. It was decide that we would spend just about an hour on Shackleford, followed by the ferry trip to Cape Lookout, where we would spend about two hours, so that we would allow enough time to drive the distance to Cedar Island for the return journey.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We had beautiful weather, not too hot, a gentle breeze, and we enjoyed ourselves. The only thing we might’ve done differently would be to reverse the time spent on each island. It would’ve been nice to have additional time on Shackleford, to walk the trail at the center of the island, because that was where the wild horses were spotted. It also might have been better to plan our arrival on Shackleford to coincide with low tide, which might’ve made for better shelling. (Alas, my search for a whole and complete Scotch Bonnet remain unfulfilled!) Due to the restraints of the ferry system currently on their winter schedule, our options were somewhat limited, if we planned to ferry to Ocracoke, instead of driving back the same way we came.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
In any case, we arrived at the ferry in Cedar Island in a timely fashion, and I was congratulating us on how well everything had gone, and how it was wonderful that we had managed to navigate without any glitches or wrong turns!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
By the time we departed the harbor at Cedar Island, I was looking forward to napping. According to the ferry schedule, the ride to Ocracoke would take 2 hour, 15 minutes, and I planned to sleep for as much of that as possible. I was very tired, because, for some ungodly reason, the morning of the trip I had awakened at 1:37AM, and had been unable to fall back to sleep before our planned 4:45 AM departure from the rental house. It had been an exceptionally long day, and the fact that I was the only driver was adding to my stress. The saving grace was that there weren’t any major interstate highways or major traffic arteries to be dealt with along the way. I managed a 30 minute nap, which was good, but not optimal.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We arrived on Ocracoke 15 minutes ahead of schedule, made a quick stop at the Lighthouse for Dave to shoot a couple of photos, then off to the other end of the Island, in hopes of catching the 6:30 PM ferry!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Alas! That was not to be. There was a car in front of us refusing to drive the speed limit, and just enough traffic coming in the opposite direction to prevent me from passing her. The upshot was that we missed the ferry by about 30 seconds! So, we sat, first in line for the 7PM ferry. Not what we hoped for, but, still not so bad. And, really, our first actual glitch of the day!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We boarded the ferry to Hatteras and departed Ocracoke at 7 PM, expecting to arrive between 7:45 - 8:00. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Dave & Mike were both trying to nap, after inquiring as to my need for </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
a navigator for the balance of the trip. I assured them both that I was now in familiar territory, so they could rest & relax, which they were attempting.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
The ferry ride was relaxing and I was comfortable since this was an area with which I am familiar. That is, until as I could see the lights of Hatteras off in the distance, and the ferry began to make a sound I had never heard it make before. The sound was reminiscent of gears grinding. It was not a sound a non-swimmer wants to hear while sitting in her car, in the pitch blackness of the night, still a good distance from shore. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
The sound repeated several times, as the ferry backed up, and turned in a slightly different direction. This scenario played out several times. At one point when we finally seemed to be moving in the appropriate direction, I feared we were going to crash into the ferry headed in the opposite direction! At no point in this drama did anyone attempt to explain to the passengers exactly what was happening, or why. It was all the more unnerving because of our exhaustion, I’m sure. I have made that ferry crossing numerous times in my life, including times when our ferry followed behind a dredger because the channel was too shallow. So, I do know that there can be issues due to channel shifting, but my fevered imagination was cooking up scary stuff during that exceptionally long ferry ride! We docked in Hatteras Village at 8:30 PM! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
We then had to drive the length of Hatteras Island, across the Bonner Bridge, and north on 12, 158, and 12 again, to reach our rental home in the Villages at Ocean Hill! We arrived in the driveway at 10:35 PM! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
L—O—N—G day to say the least! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
If you plan to travel to Harker’s Island in order to visit both Cape Lookout and Shackleford Banks, I would recommend finding accommodations for an overnight stay, especially if you plan to ferry from Cedar Island to Ocracoke. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
A better plan might be to plan a visit and vacation somewhere along Emerald Isle, and day trip from there. Traveling from the far reaches of the norther Outer Banks to the Cape Lookout area might work better during a time with longer daylight hours, especially, if, like me, you don’t like driving in the dark. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
It is definitely worth the trip. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-990027565585518782017-10-15T15:04:00.000-04:002017-10-15T15:04:44.532-04:00Prayers Answered, (Even Unspoken Prayers...)<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">2017 October 14</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Here I sit, in the backseat of the Subaru, while V drives, along the PA turnpike, with Mikey in the front & Davey sharing the back, headed to NC. My anxiety levels are high. My ability to hear front seat conversations is low. Davey is napping. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">My anxiety stems from driving (which I am not even doing!). It also arises from worrying about Ray, Coco, & to a lesser degree, Tubbs. An additional source of anxiety stems from the fact a friend is coming to stay with us in Ambridge, directly from this Corolla trip & will stay for a few months. It's not that we didn't invite her. We did. But anytime there is change of any kind, my anxiety goes skyrocketing off the chart. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So, as I was sitting here, in my uncomfortable backseat, staring at the back of Vinny's headrest, and fighting overwhelming anxiety that seemed to want to become full blown panic, I remembered the tiny essential oils rollers I put in my pants pocket, 'just in case'. Then, I glanced over and saw, in the seat pocket in front of Dave, the extra, extra copy of "PLAN B" by Anne Lamott, that I purchased at a library book sale months ago, planning to share it with someone who might need/love her words as I do. I think I was currently that person! Having just reread, the first sharing in the book, called "ham of god", I am certain that God's plan was for me to have this book with me for just such a time as this!</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I am breathing easier. I offered both prayers of supplication AND thanksgiving. And I am writing, again. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">All these things are answers to prayer, spoken, unspoken, but ALL shared with my Creator, who indeed, hears, listens, and answers.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-11781596799823327742017-04-22T12:42:00.000-04:002017-04-22T12:42:49.836-04:00<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
2013 July 28</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
At 63 Years Old</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Before I begin what will likely be a rant, perhaps a little background information is in order. I have been happily menopausal/post menopausal for about nine years. That in itself will give you some indication of what this rant will encompass, so if you are offended by discourse regarding female issues, stop reading NOW!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
My reproductive system has never really been user friendly. I have endured PMS, infertility, arrogant fertility specialists, and assorted surgeries, pains and discomforts over the years. Once having come to terms with all of the challenges offered up on a monthly basis by my uterus, ovaries and fallopian tubes, I settled in, and learned to "tell time" by the passing of each menstrual cycle. If nothing else worked well in that system, it was, at least, regular as clockwork. For me, a month was the length of time from the beginning of one cycle to the next.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
When menopause began, I actually felt a little sad, in spite of the tempestuous relationship with my lady parts, because it required me to rethink my time passage measurement. But, as women always do, I adjusted. And I cruised along becoming comfortable with a new season of my life. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
In many ways, a very pleasant season. No cramps, no mood swings, no sudden gushes during a period caused by doing something strenuous, like lifting something heavy no unexplained cravings for chocolate, no emotional outbursts - none of those unpleasant, annoying aspects of womanhood. Learning a new way, albeit "normal" way to measure time transit seemed little to take on in exchange for loosing so many annoying things.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
So, in this new found freedom, I have cruised through the past nine years. Granted, my family doctor, who does my pelvic exams, would occasionally bug me about a uterine polyp with which she was concerned. Mostly, I have been able to ignore her. However, once we were in Pittsburgh for an extended period this late winter into early summer, I could ignore her no longer. (The reason I was ignoring her requests to have the polyp checked was that it required me to visit the gynecologist whom I did not like. And because I was too lazy to seek out a different gynecologist) To placate her, more than for any other reason, I scheduled an appointment with the dreaded gynecologist.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Poor Raymond. I made him go with me, even into the exam room. To my dismay, his impression was that, "he seems like a nice guy". That really isn't relevant, though. The initial exam, concurred with my PCP's concerns, and I was scheduled for a procedure, to remove the polyp and biopsy it and my uterine lining, with was "too thick for someone so far post menopausal". Suddenly the lovely period of detente between the lady parts and I was at risk.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
The polyp was removed and was benign, as was the too thick uterine lining. It seems that although I am indeed post menopausal, my ovaries are producing more estrogen than is considered normal, which in turn, causes a thickened uterine lining. Both the Gyne and my PCP are concerned that left to its own devices, this lining might decide to evolve into uterine cancer at some point. In order to combat that possible issue, they both think I should follow a course of treatment that would require me to take 10mg of Provera (a hormone my menopausal self no longer produces ~ progesterone) for ten days at the beginning of each month for three months. In fairness, the gynecologist wanted me to take it for June/July/August, but I didn't start it in June, as I waited until I talked to my PCP, to get her take on it. Since I trust her, and since she seemed to make a case for taking it, I acquiesced, and decided to move the treatment to July/August/September. Since my next appointment with the gynecologist isn't until late September, I figured it really didn't matter.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
So, on July 1, I began my first month taking Provera. The doctor had warned me that if I had been prone to PMS symptoms, they could return with this medication. PMS would've been welcome! Instead, I became a screaming, psychopathic, irritable bitch! There is no other word for it! It was as if my evil twin had taken up residence and even though I wanted to, I could NOT evict her. I hated everything and everyone! I was critical of everything Raymond did or didn't do. I was cranky beyond measure. I cried or yelled, more or less constantly. Everything and everyone irritated me to the point that I wanted to slap them, or worse. In a word, I was UGLY! I was SO UGLY that I couldn't even stand myself! It seemed like the longest ten days of my life! I can only guess how long it felt to my poor husband.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
In the midst of the early days of July on Provera, I also began a course of Medrol (a steroid - yet another hormone!) this one for the treatment of the severe arthritic changes in my cervical spine which were causing problems with a nerve root. I asked the pharmacist if this would interact with progesterone which was already recking havoc with my personality. He said that it might "intensify" thongs for the first few days, but somehow thought it reassured me when he told me, "it's really not a 'you' thing - it happens to everyone taking progesterone". I was not comforted!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
The pharmacist was correct, though, as the steroid for the arthritic stuff didn't seem to effect me as badly as the other hormone.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Finally, day ten arrived. No more Provera. Thank you, Lord! I won't say I mellowed out immediately, but there was light at the end of that tunnel. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Remember the joke about the light at the end of the tunnel being the oncoming train? Yep, there it was three days later, as promised by the gyne, the light at the end of the tunnel that turned out to be my first period in nine, did you hear me, NINE!!!! years! While I knew this was the expected outcome resulting from dumping progesterone in my body, it still came as a general shock to my 63 three year old system!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Let me say this as simply as I can: at 63 I am too old to be standing in line buying tampons and pads! Granted the whole period was over in five days, but it sucked! I don't want to have a period at 63! especially after not having one for 9 years! The whole process, from the crazy irritable person inhabiting my body, to the shedding of excess uterine lining, to finally staring to feel human again took up more than half the month of July! I don't want to repeat that process in August and September! </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Yesterday, while driving to Adams, NY, Raymond and I were discussing all of this. I said that I was leaning toward stopping the Provera. He was enthusiastic in his support. Until he questioned why I was doing it in the first place. When I explained to him that the doctors were concerned about the thickened uterine lining developing uterine cancer, he suddenly had a change of heart, and thought I should take the remaining course of Provera, in spite of the maniac we both fear I will temporarily become.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
I'm still not convinced. As I told Raymond, if I'm 63 and on a scale of 0 to 10, with 0 being no chance of cancer and 10 being cancer, I am at 1.5. And if I have been at 1.5 for at least 9 years, what are the odds that I will develop cancer? And if I do, couldn't they just yank my uterus? Raymond's response was to question whether that type of cancer would spread if it did develop. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
So… here I sit, just a few days away from the beginning of the next month with no idea of what I am going to do. Take it, or not, that is the question. I do not want to become a screaming mimi for for the first ten days of August. I also do not want to deal with having another period. I hate the whole process. It feels so unnatural. Yet, I certainly do not want to develop uterine cancer. But the question remains, if I have had a thickened uterine lining for the past nine years without it being positive for cancer (it has been pre-cancerous - but NEGATIVE for actual cancer cells), what are the odds that I WILL develop cancer? I don't want to tempt fate. I have been down the cancer road with my bladder and am grateful for how contained any abnormal cell growth there has been.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
I'm thinking phone calls to both docs are in order tomorrow. Perhaps the severity of my reaction to Provera will decrease with each consecutive month. Perhaps it won't. I need some straight answers and NOT simply, being told this is what we generally do. In spite of the song, I am NOT everywomen! I am an individual and perhaps this is not the course of treatment for me. I certainly don't want to take medication that in the long run, may not really have any effect. But, on the other hand, I don't want to see my uterine lining morph into cancer. What's a 63 year old to do?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
Oh! and just a little side note. When I asked the gyne if we couldn't just do a hysterectomy, back in April, his response was, "I can't in good conscience take out healthy tissue." So, if it's healthy, why am I taking Provera and scheduled for yet another biopsy in September? It all seems rather convoluted to me. Perhaps I should've called him while I was harboring my angry twin during those early weeks in July. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-75172994640761803102017-03-26T16:50:00.000-04:002017-03-26T17:56:27.523-04:00MISSING DADDY (STILL? …Always)<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal;">
MISSING DADDY (STILL? …Always)</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal; min-height: 28px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: normal; min-height: 28px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
September 21, 2016, would’ve been his 91st birthday. On that date, he had been gone from our lives two years, eight months, and twelve days. It feels both so much longer, and shorter, simultaneously.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Sometimes entire days go by and he doesn’t cross my mind. Other times, I am steeped in memories and plagued by things unsaid. To say, "I miss him" seems a gross understatement, yet what more can be said?</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Lots, I suppose. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
He lived 88 years, 3 months, and 19 days. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
He was a good man; An exceptional husband; A kind father. He was a hard worker; A strong union man. He was a respectful human being. He had a soft spot for indigenous peoples, in particular the children, and to that end supported a few charities for Native kids. He was a man grounded by family, faith, and responsibility. His faith lead him to support some Catholic charities. He was an athlete, a baseball player, specifically, though he played some sandlot football, too. He was a story teller. He liked people, and they liked him. He was easy to be around, a comfortable personality. He had many jobs over his lifetime, and he did each one to the best of his ability. He was the union steward at one place, and he enjoyed that role. He also worked as caretaker of the Slovenski Dom (the Slovenian Hall), a fraternal organization in Lawrenceville, for many years. Part of his role there required him to tend bar in the evenings and on weekends. It was the place where my brother Vinny thought Daddy was happiest.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Perhaps part of the reason for his contentment at the Slovenski Dom, was his familiarity with the place. During the Great Depression, Daddy’s own father also held the position of caretaker. And though his parents owned a house on 57th Street, during the Depression, the family lived in the apartment that occupied part of the first and second floors of the Slovenian Hall. So, when Daddy returned there in the 1980s, with some of his own children in tow, it must have been a kind of homecoming for him. A return to a place of simpler times and memories of his own childhood, since he was probably a preschool age kid when Pap-Pap was steward at the Slovenski Dom.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
His life wasn’t easy. He was a first generation American, born to immigrant parents, in the period before the Great Depression. Yet, all the photos I have of him as a youngster, show him as a happy, caring, animal loving, and cowboy loving, kid. He grew up number four of six children, though there were nine years between him and his next younger sister, Rose Marie, who wasn’t born until 1934. So, I’m guessing, for all intent and purposes, Daddy was treated as "the baby" for at least eight of those nine years. His next oldest sibling, Jimmy, was two years older than he was, to the exact date, September 21.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
I loved Daddy’s stories of growing up in his extended family. I loved hearing about the aunts and uncles, cousins, and just good friends and neighbors who populated his youth and young adulthood. The stories were always happy ones, revolving around family and group activities, like playing pinochle, listening to radio dramas, or music. The home my Dad grew up in was a welcoming one, a gathering place. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
I know that Daddy, (AKA: William, Bill, Billy, Will, and Buzzy), loved music, and had a decent tenor voice. He sang in the Men’s Choir, at St Mary Assumption Church. He enjoyed playing characters in local theater productions. In one of those performances, he portrayed what Dr. Larry Canjar said was a great "old, Jewish, immigrant accent". Daddy told me that the director of a local theatre group saw one of his performances and wanted to cast Daddy in a production in Oakland, but Daddy declined. Maybe if he hadn’t fallen in love immediately after World War 2, and straightaway begun a family, he might have tried his hand at acting.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Instead, at eighteen, he went off to be a soldier, in the European Theatre. In doing so, he followed in the footsteps of his two older brothers, Joe E. and Jimmy. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Will left Pittsburgh, in November 1943, shortly after his eighteenth birthday. It must have been both scary and exciting for this young man who had never been out of Pittsburgh, and rarely out of his neighborhood. Traveling with other young men, uncertain of their final destination, knowing only they would ultimately be off to "fight the war". It had to have been hard on him, too, especially when he missed his first holidays with his family. Holidays were always an important to Daddy’s family. And, Christmas, without fail was always special, both as a holiday and a holy day for Daddy.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Daddy did his basic training in Georgia. He shared stories from basic training, where he met a young man from New Orleans,who became his friend and bunk mate. Jim Byrnes was the gentleman’s name and they maintained a lifelong, long distance friendship. They sent letters and exchanged Christmas cards, and on more than one occasion, Mr Byrnes invited my Dad to New Orleans, but Daddy never went. And it was a deep blow to him when he one day received a phone call from Mrs Byrnes, saying that his friend had passed away. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
There were stories about the other recruits, and stories of playing baseball in the red Georgia clay. But, of the time after basic training, spent in Ft Lee, New Jersey, little was said. From NJ, he and his comrades in arms, headed to England, and then to the European Theatre. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
He never really spoke of his deployment in Europe. He shared transport stories of sea sickness. Daddy shared reminiscences of the brief layover in England. There were tales of the cold forests of central Europe, on the way to Germany, where he got frostbite on his toes. I remember his accounts of trying to keep warm in the back of transport trucks. But, never did he talk about the war, combat, what he saw, or did. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Once, in the mid 1990s, while watching a TV news segment about the U.S. Holocaust Museum, I asked him if he had been near any of the concentration camps when he was in Europe. He became very quiet. A look came over his face that I cannot describe, except to say, a darkness. He paused. Then he said, "No. But I <b><i>smelled</i></b> them." I asked a few more questions, but he answered tersely, so I didn’t press. At one point, he said that some of the other guys in his unit went into the camps, which had already been liberated, but that he did not. I know little about his wartime experience. It was not something he wished to share.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
At the end of the war in Europe, he returned home, to the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Lawrenceville, where he picked up where he had left off. At least that’s what I assume. How different it must have been, though. An innocence lost. Daddy returned home, as did his oldest brother, Joe E. Uncle Jimmy, with whom Daddy shared a birthday, was shot down somewhere over France, lost his life, and is buried in France. So, the house on 57th Street was a little emptier, and touched by the sadness of losing their middle son. Although I am certain there was some of what we now call survivor’s guilt, Daddy got on with his life. The sorrow of losing Uncle Jimmy, was something I realized more from watching the women in my Dad’s family, in particular my Gram, and my Aunt Barb, who was the oldest of the siblings.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
But there were happy stories after the war, and Daddy shared those, too. I especially loved hearing about interactions between my grandparents, from Daddy. Theirs must have been a happy marriage, especially based on the reports from my Dad. It seems that my Gram was a strong, sensible, kind woman, and that she, perhaps, "ran the show". There was a lot of good natured teasing between Daddy’s parents, at least according to Daddy’s shared recollections. I loved hearing the stories of his parents, Rosie and Joe, in which Daddy would always speak in Pap-Pap’s accented voice. I so miss hearing that! I wish we had made recording of those stories.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
In January 1949, Bill married Jean Marie Brogan Savage, a girl from the neighborhood, who lived six houses up the street. She may as well have been from another galaxy. Neither her Scots-Irish family, nor Daddy’s Slovenian family approved of the union. I’m not sure why, really. Perhaps it was cultural, just a desire to keep to their own ethnicities. Perhaps it was because Jean was adopted. Perhaps it was because Jean’s parents looked down on immigrants. Or maybe there was some other reason. I simply do not know. I have some ideas and suspicions, but no actual knowledge. But, marry, they did! And with both families in attendance, they were joined in holy matrimony at St Mary Assumption Church, with a reception luncheon following at the Fort Pitt Hotel, in downtown Pittsburgh. They honeymooned in New York City. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
When I look at their wedding photos, I see two people very much in love. My mom, Jean, has been gone since August 1976. But even in the intervening years, Daddy never stopped loving her. In fact, when his granddaughter, Hannah, was in college around 2009, she asked for me to email her a photo of her grandmother. I sent along Mummy’s senior portrait from high school. I shared with Daddy, Hannah’s response to seeing Mummy’s photo. Hannah said that her Grandmother was "quite the looker". Daddy smiled broadly, and replied simply, "I always thought so." Even after so many years without her, he still loved her, deeply.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Daddy was a kind man. A gentle man. Although, he could get riled up at times. Discussing sports sometimes made him agitated. Especially, baseball. Most especially the Pirates, under Clint Hurdle. He could also get fairly worked up about union politics. He was shop steward where he worked for many years and often became irritated with his union brothers because he felt they lacked follow through. Yet, in spite of his strong union stance, he maintained a positive working relationship with both owners and management, as well as with his union brothers. My Dad was a reasonable and balanced human being, who in most instances saw both sides of an issue. Even in the turbulent late 60s and early 70s, I never heard him speak unkindly of any of the players on the stage of social change. I never heard him speak derogatorily of civil rights leaders, though I remember hearing such hate speech from various Uncles in the family, but never from my Dad. He respected people - all people - even his oldest daughter, the rebel and hippie. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
If I regret anything in my younger life, it is any pain or embarrassment I caused my Dad. I was the epitome of the strong willed child! I was thoughtless and headstrong. I often say that I thought I had all the answers, when, in truth, I didn’t even know what the questions were. Yet, I remember my Dad coming to my defense against drunken slurs against me made by one of his in-laws. I remember Daddy coming to my high school graduation and my nursing school graduation. Was he perfect? No, and neither are ANY of us. I am grateful that one of the final interchanges between Daddy and me included me saying, "I’m sorry, Daddy. I never meant to hurt you." To which he replied, while looking deeply into my eyes, "I know, kid." God! How I miss him!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
He was a good listener. I miss being able to talk to him. I miss having his ear, knowing that whatever I told him would go no further. He was not a man given to gossip. I miss the fact that he listened yet never felt compelled, as some men (and women) do, to try and fix whatever was wrong. He truly listened, knowing that sometimes the person talking just needed a comprehending ear. How I pray to be more like my Dad!</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
When I said that his life was hard, part of the reason for the difficulty was that our family grew rapidly over the years. From their first child, a girl, arriving a month after their first anniversary, to the appearance of five boys, then another girl, and finally, the last boy, my parents embodied "the good Catholic family" of the 1950s to 1970s. I am not certain of the motivation behind having eight children. To place the blame of the Vatican seems a bit unfair. And we were an oddity, even though we were not the only, nor the largest family in our immediate neighborhood. In really thinking about it, though, most of the other Catholic families on our street, consisted of three kids, maximum. So, maybe we were an oddity, but I never realized it at the time. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
My Dad did not graduate from high school. I am not certain of all the facts or reasons, but I do know that he left Central Catholic HS after 2 years. Without a high school diploma, even in the 1950s, jobs were hard to come by, especially when relying on public transit. My Dad never learned to drive. In fact, he had no desire to learn, and no extra income to purchase a car, anyway. And I remember when I bought a used car in the 1980s, he kept asking me, "Why?" He was a believer in public transit, and thought the "need" for everyone to own an automobile was ridiculous.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Early in his experience as a father and husband, I remember him being organized, neat, and trying to impress those qualities on his kids. In the basement, he had a workbench with a peg board behind it. On the pegboard, he kept his tools. And on the pegboard, he had drawn an outline of each tool, so that even as a child, I could see by the shapes, which tool went on which hook. I remember having a fascination with Daddy’s tools, especially his hand drill. And, I also remember his displeasure when Mummy or one of the children would remove some implement and NOT return it to its place on the bench or board. After awhile, I think he became less stringent in his organization, maybe because living with a messy wife and a bunch of kids can do that to even the most organized individual. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
There were times when we kids were growing up, that the gas or electricity to our house was shut off, because we were poor. In spite of those occurrences, and the embarrassment it must have caused Daddy, I remember those as fun times. It is my belief that my perception was mainly the result of Daddy’s attitude. He made a game out of being in the dark, when our electricity was off. We got to carry old, kerosene, railroad lanterns upstairs to the bathroom, and sleep with oil lamps in our bedrooms. He made it a fun experience! I remember Daddy putting blankets over the dining room table to make a tent for us kids when the gas was off and it was a very cold early March. He made it seem like an adventure! We got to "camp" in the dining room. I remember telling him a few years before he died, how many pleasurable, good memories I had from those times. He said that if he had known it was enjoyable, maybe he wouldn’t have worried so much about us. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Daddy liked to cook. I remember him making pigs in the blanket, potica, donuts, and potato chips. He also baked from scratch chocolate cakes with delicious, cooked, butter cream frosting. His spaghetti sauce was extremely tasty. And he was always willing to try different things. I remember making collard greens and neck bones for him after I had been exposed to some down-home southern cooking, and he liked it. Some of his sons seem to have inherited his gift for cooking and baking. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
Daddy seemed to lose a little of himself when Mummy died. He was only 50 when she died as a result of lung cancer, so he had spent more than half of his life to that point, as Jean’s husband. Perhaps he felt lost. I have often reasoned that were it not for his youngest son, who was just five years old, he might have allowed himself to die of a broken heart. To his credit, he hung on. He was a survivor, in every sense of the word. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal;">
He lived longer as a single parent than he had as a married Dad with a partner. He always was willing to take his children back under his roof if they asked. In nursing school, I returned to his home for a period of time, after a failed marriage and relationship. At the end of his life, he lived in a home purchased by my brother Vinny and shared with Daddy and two other unmarried brothers. I think Daddy did much of what he did because of a deep ingrained sense of obligation. His duty to his family, his spouse, his children, his faith, and even his country, sometimes led him down roads he might never have traveled except for his imperative of living up to a commitment. That is something about him, that I have come to appreciate more deeply as I age. Mostly, though, I am simply grateful that I am his daughter, grateful for him as a husband, father, son, brother, friend, and grateful for his example and perseverance. And though he never told me he loved me until I was in my 20s, he showed his love everyday, and for that I am especially grateful.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-40781918654722024032017-03-26T10:00:00.000-04:002017-03-26T10:00:48.586-04:00Anger, Frustration...how and why? <div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
2017 January 31</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Today I decided to take a break from Facebook. The decision came after yet another day spent in anger and frustration, which has become my default emotional setting since early November. The election of Donald Trump, what it represents to those of us who consider ourselves relatively centrist, has been too much of a dividing factor. Too often, I find myself reading things on Facebook, posted by people to whom I am related either by blood, marriage, friendship, or deep caring, even love, and theses things anger me. The anger comes because I cannot fathom the way they are thinking. The anger comes because I KNOW the people to be kind, caring people, people I trust. Yet, each time someone says, "Give him a chance", my blood pressure rises, because I cannot simply wait and give a chance to a man I feel is unqualified to lead. And I cannot understand the people who do not see him as unqualified.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I have many friends with whom I stay in touch using Facebook. There are people whom I count among my closest friends, whom I touch base with daily via Facebook. There are people whom I initially met online, who I have come to think of as good friends. Some I have had the pleasure and joy to meet in real life, others remain online friends until such time as our paths should cross. There are people numbered among my Facebook friends whom I met because of our period of living an RVing lifestyle. Some people I have known in my past, and have been lucky enough to reconnect with because of Facebook. Some are former employers, former co-workers, former members of my old Church, and family and extended family - I value these friends, all of them. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
In spite of the deep need I have to somehow remain connected to these people, MY people, I am facing a conundrum: to continue along as I have been for the past few months, or to take a break. I need to explore possibilities, because to continue along as I have been would be detrimental to my fragile emotional health. I tend to see the world in black or white, lacking shades of grey. It is a tedious mindset - one that tends toward the "all or nothing" kind of thinking. Over my adult life I have tried desperately to change that thinking, so that I could embrace the full spectrum of people and events, experiencing them in all their shading from darkest through all the in-betweens to lightest, with every nuance possible. Most times, I am able to function in this manner, seeing that few things in life are all bad, or all good. I recognize that people and ideas are complex and I try to refrain from making judgments based on limited information, whether about people or their ideas.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
However, in the time since the election in November, I find myself thrown for a loop. I am too often inundated by opinions of people I care about, but find myself with absolutely no understanding of how or why they have arrived at these opinions. It seems as if there has been a terrible breakdown in our ability to communicate, because if I disagree with them, or they with me, anger seems to result as people’s default position. I cannot do this anymore. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I have spent the past two days simply wanting to cry, because of all this turmoil. I feel isolated. This is not how I want to feel, nor is it how I wish to live.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
Addendum to the portion written on January 31:</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; line-height: normal;">
I took a very brief vacation from FB. I adjusted my social media settings, my friends list, and my expectations. In addition, I took a step back in an attempt to get greater perspective. But, in rereading what I initially wrote, I realized that some of my frustration and anger had originated as a result, not of the election, though that was contributory, but rather, came from the accident that occurred during our return from the vacation trip to North Carolina. Having been the sixth car of a seven car pile up affected me deeply, in ways I never would have anticipated. But that’s a subject for another blog post, yet it seemed important to document that here, now. If only to document that there is never simply one cause for anger, and/or frustration, because nothing is that black or white.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-66698146351240708342016-12-19T10:31:00.000-05:002016-12-19T10:31:11.137-05:00<div style="font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2016 December 19</span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; font-size: 16px; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means "God is with us")." - Isaiah 7:14 (NLT) </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This was my encouraging word, via email today from K-Love. I actually read it! Often, I do not, in spite of often needing an actual, encouraging word. But, today, as I perused my inbox, the little internal voice said, "Read it." And I did. And I am glad.</span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Often we are hard on the church and its paternalistic structure and the dismissive attitude toward women. I have often voiced my own displeasure with being treated as "less than" during my 9 year sojourn with a Evangelical Presbyterian pastor and congregation. </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">BUT, WAIT! Read this passage. What is your immediate impression?</span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means "God is with us")." - Isaiah 7:14 (</span>NLT<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">)</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mine was this: God held "woman" in such high esteem that she was CHOSEN to bring Immanuel into the world in human form! AND, not a married woman, who might have some status, but "a virgin" - a young, unmarried woman, without status, or property. Thinking about the fact that God chose a young, unmarried woman to bring forth the Savior seems to me, to be a major vote of confidence toward the female portion of the created populace. I am blown away by seeing this for the first time! God so loved the world...but s/he LOVED WOMAN so much that Jesus was born of Mary, a young, unmarried, Nazarene - a young WOMAN! </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The creator God chose a woman. Think about that. </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Are many of the world's religions, at best, dismissive of women, and at worst, much worse? Yes. BUT that is NOT the action of GOD! God, loves ALL of her/his creation. Today, I realized that the actions of institutions are NOT reflective of God's love for creation. Today, for the first time, I saw that God deeply loves WOMEN! This is such an enormous revelation to me, that I had to share it! </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If the Creator loved women enough to allow Immanuel to be born of a woman, as a helpless baby, then, by extension, the Creator loves all women. If the Creator loves all women, then regardless of the stance of a particular religion or church, we women need to embrace God's love for us and KNOW that we are LOVED! </span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; min-height: 18px;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is a seriously important realization for me, as a woman who wants to identify as a Christ-follower, but who has felt marginalized by churches as institutions. This may be my very own Christmas miracle.</span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #232323; font-family: Arial;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #232323; font-family: Arial;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-24484538815204012422016-11-25T16:20:00.002-05:002016-11-25T16:20:29.442-05:00November 25, 2016<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am sick. And frustrated. And tired. And headachy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would like very much to simply cry until I felt better, but that is not even a possibility.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am sick in spite of eating healthily, in spite of scrupulous hand washing, and flu vaccines. I am sick, and when I plan to spend the day resting and trying to allow my body to work its self-healing, some new frustration inducing item rears its head! All the stress is simply making it harder to get well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The frustration, is multifaceted, and caused by a number of things:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The actual car accident of 10/23; all the surrounding events swirling amid the vortex of that 7 car pile up, including the way I have been treated by the insurance company, who has no problem taking my money quarterly, but seems unable to make phone calls to communicate with me. Also, in that vortex is my panic and anxiety when I must drive, and the looming fear regarding the drive to Virginia to retrieve our car if they ever fix it! And there seems to be great difficulty getting, not just phone calls, but any information. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The accident, the car and the insurance company are just one tip of my frustration iceberg!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Related to the accident, is the frustration caused by the apparent lack of justice and fair play with the seven vehicles involved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then there is my job. While I love the kids I care for, I arrive frazzled after my long commute, which causes me to be more short tempered than I would like. Add to that, the fact that too often, I receive a text asking me to work an additional day, because the kids Mom is herself, overburdened and frazzled, and forgot that she is required to work on a particular day. While I empathize with her plight, it doesn’t help my frustration levels. And, while I love my charges, I fear there is no Mary Poppins award for me. The kids are 9, 7, & 4. The 7 year old wants to act like she’s 27, or 37. It’s wearing on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am frustrated by my inability to cope. With the kids, with the accident, with my illness of the past week. And I despise feeling like a whiner, yet I seem to reach that whine-inducing threshold more and more quickly lately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am frustrated by little things that I should be able to overlook. Minor incompetence by customer service. Words from a friend that my brain twists into something hurtful. My perception of simple day to day things, that take an air of being monumental. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The tiredness probably goes hand in hand with the other things, because I have not been sleeping well, due to whatever bug is bugging me, and because of working extra, and worrying more. My sleep is disrupted by stuffy sinuses, the ache from coughing, and the ache from the accident. I have tried napping and resting when I am at home, but I need a stretch of several days, which I do not seem to be able to accomplish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The headachy stuff is both physical and mental. The physical, related to the sinuses and lack of sleep. The mental, related to trying to wrap my mind around the astonishing levels of cruelty in this world, and how things seem to be escalating beyond our control. It hurts my head and my heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All things currently seem just beyond anyone’s ability to control, or even explain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">YEP. I am sick, frustrated, tired, and headachy. And heartachy, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-84127137681611397782016-05-21T17:45:00.001-04:002016-05-21T17:45:54.039-04:00Emotional Eating<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">21 May 2016</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today has been a bitch! See, I am an emotional eater, first class! What I mean by that, is that when life gets tough, I eat. Pizza, cake, ice cream, candy bars. Usually high sugar, and/or high fat items. I should also mention my history of depression. When life gets tough and I indulge, I open the door to allow in the depression, in the form of isolation, self-loathing, sadness, and a general feeling of emptiness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">54 days into using Medifast on the Take Shape for Life program, and today is the first day that has been seriously hard for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For those unfamiliar, Take Shape for Life is a health transformation program that includes weight loss. The weight loss is accomplished using meal replacement foods, produced by Medifast. The combination of nutritionally balanced meal replacements, along with one meal daily consisting of lean protein and low glycemic veggies, as well as the support of a personal coach, books by TSFL founder, and an online community of other folks also doing the program, are usually enough to keep me on track. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I came to this program as a 66 year old woman with borderline hyperglycemia, borderline high cholesterol, and borderline low density lipoproteins, an inactive lifestyle, and a body weight of 212.4 pounds. My goals were to get my borderline blood values into the normal range, lose weight doing it, and learn what got me to this weight, so that I could address the appropriate changes. I wanted to be healthy and learn to eat like a healthy, thin person.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday I was to have a shortened work day, with only 2 of the usual 3 children I care for with me. I was looking forward to spending some time with just the two older kids, who only had a half day of school. The plan, as communicated to me, was that I would pick the kids up at their elementary school, and take them out to lunch, followed by some time at the park. Sounded good. But, due to poor communication, on both my part, and their Mom’s, I hadn’t realized I was stepping into a situation fraught with children’s anger and disappointment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yesterday was "Kennywood Day". (Kennywood is a local amusement park) And, the kids were not going, even though the original plan was for the family to go. Personal family issues made changes necessary and these had been discussed with the kids the previous evening and again that morning. Although, I knew nothing about any of this at the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Within 10 minutes of picking up the children, things were headed on a severe downward trajectory. So great was my frustration, that I even told the kids that I had no idea how anticipation of time together could turn to dread within 7 minutes! (Yeah, I know, no freaking nanny of the year award here!) But, we did, after a phone call to Mom, some intense talking time among the three of us, finally rescue the day. At lunch, I had a salad with only items allowed on my low glycemic plan. It was what we on the program refer to as a "NSV", or non-scale victory. But it wasn’t enough to remove the darkness of the days earlier experiences. Nor could the fact that one child reported, "it was a great day!" How could it? Especially when the other child still thought it was "the worst day" of her life? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">OK, so why is that included here, in this saga of mine about a bad day on my lifestyle change plan? Because those kind of bad feelings linger with me. It’s as if those kinds of feelings have some sort of emotional stick-um, which prevents me from just shaking it off. As a result, when I got home from my shortened day, I was feeling emotionally drained and very tired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We had our dinner, without any drama, thank goodness. And I was still on plan. We sat down to watch my beloved Penguins play game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. I was tired, but really had high hopes for the game. As the drubbing of my guys at the skates of the Tampa Bay team progressed, I became even more dejected. At the end of period 2, I went to bed. I was feeling overwhelmed by those sneaky feelings that creep in and can result in a full blown depressive episode, - the sadness, lethargy, need to isolate, emptiness, and self-loathing. But, at that point, I really thought I would wake up feeling "normal" in the morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The plan for Saturday was to include some neighborhood yard sales, which I was looking forward to earlier in the week, my weekly weigh-in, and relaxation. Laundry was already done, and except for some dusting, so was the cleaning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I slept in until 8:15 AM. Still wasn’t feeling great, and since it was cooler outside and raining, that added to my feelings of dismay. But since today was weigh-in day, and I just knew I was finally going to be under 190, I was sure things would begin looking up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">WRONG! Weigh-in was 190.2 pounds. Now, to those who have not hitched their wagon to the numbers on the scale, that two tenths may seem insignificant. However, if you are sticking to a program, and wanting desperately to stop seeing the 190s on the scale, it is greatly significant. Just another in the series of small, crappy feelings that cling like dog poop to your shoe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I thought, I should go to the support page for the group on Facebook and post my weight and my feelings of dejection. Which I did. Only I included a snippet from yesterday’s lunch at Steak & Shake, about me sticking my baby finger into the younger child’s hot fudge sauce, as a cheat. Really, it was a non-issue for me, so I really shouldn’t have even mentioned it, except for my need for full disclosure. The important parts of my post to the group were that I was still in the 190s weight wise, that my team lost an important game on the way to the Stanley Cup, that I wanted to go eat a freaking Blizzard, or giant piece of chocolate cake, AND that I really wasn’t feelin the whole Medifast/TSFL thing at that moment in time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">[In fairness, a couple of people "got it". But, there seemed to be many who thought my issue was that I had "cheated" with that minuscule bit of hot fudge! Those people irritated me!]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I don’t know, maybe I’m simply an angry, obtuse, slightly-less-fat-than-I was in March person. I still want to go get an order of Gorilla Fries at the pizza place in Zelienople! I don’t think I will. But I want to. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know that everybody has bad days. I know that no plan is a panacea. I know that emotional eating opens the door to depressive behaviors that I want to remove from my life. I know enough to know that if I didn’t write this down, I would continue in a downward emotional spiral, and that is not a healthy direction. I also know that this too shall pass, but for some reason this, Day #54 on my health plan, has been the hardest since day #2. And on day #2, I sat on my LR couch and cried, because I felt physically ill, and had a headache that would not abate. I think that was easier to navigate than this emotional quagmire.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div>
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-5444117444811329952016-01-16T07:51:00.000-05:002019-07-17T12:24:43.092-04:00The Happenings of an Unexpected Day With Three Kids<span style="color: rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.701961); font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.701961); font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.701961); font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: rgba(0 , 0 , 0 , 0.701961); font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 21px;">Surprise! No school today. Until I arrived and everyone was still in bed, I had no idea. </span><br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Perhaps it's a sign of age that I need advance notice if I am to have all three children on a given day. Maybe it's a result of being sick yesterday, and still feeling less than 100% today. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank dog the weather is reasonable & relatively dry. That means a trip to the park is possible. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of course, even the park doesn't offer immunity from the arguments, fights, and yelling between Nick & Anamaria. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When I explained that they need to either resolve their issues, play separately, or play without hitting, Anamaria declared I was being mean to her. The upshot was my declaration that continued fighting & arguing that was brought to my attention would result in a return trip home, where the two older child we will play separately in their own rooms. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Then Nick got his head stuck! He was terrified. It was simply a matter of moving lower between the blue metal barriers along the elevated walk, so he came out unscathed. As I held him, sobbing, Anamaria piped up with: I can do it and not get MY head stuck! Which, of course, gained my immediate reprimand: Did you learn NOTHING just now? DO NOT STICK YOUR HEAD BETWEEN THOSE RAILS! Then, I continued in a more reasonable voice: You may indeed be able to put your head between the rails now. Nick used to be able to, too. But, you are growing children & eventually your head will get stuck, too. Nick was calm now. Anamaria was glaring at me, as if I had just ruined her childhood!</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There are no other children here at the park today. The only other folks we've see are people walking their dogs, or young moms with babies in strollers, running. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes I wish I could run... But I choose to be with these kids and I DO love them. Some days are just more challenging and require that I write about the challenge.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 21px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-61212795946616211202015-12-20T11:37:00.000-05:002015-12-21T13:49:18.296-05:00Minimal?<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2015 Dec 19</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My friend Grace asked: "You are really into this minimalist thing, aren’t you?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’m not sure either Raymond or I would describe ourselves as minimalist. But, we are definitely no longer collectors, or hoarders. We rarely make unnecessary purchases. I no longer troll yard sales and Ebay for things I didn’t know I "needed" until I saw them! We have what we need. We don’t want much. We don’t accumulate. We have mostly items for which we see a clear, present use, or function.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We do have, according to my brother, "too many books". In our defense, we gave away multiple boxes of books when we left our previous house. I attempted to stop buying books and only use the library, for a couple of years before we moved into our RV. I tried using electronic books, exclusively. In the end, we realized that we both like books, and enjoy holding actual, physical books, in our hands. We are more selective than we used to be, but have decided that it is OK to have what my nonreader brother considers "too many books". To that end, we opted to forgo a dining room in our new house. Instead, we have a den, which is where our books and laptops will reside. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The two extra rooms of our new house currently have nothing in them. We envisioned at least one of them as a guest room, but we are in no hurray to furnish them. Does that make us minimalist? No, that just means we’re taking our time before deciding what those rooms will evolve into. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As to all the stuff (and there were boxes and boxes!) that we got rid of when we left for our adventure, I don’t think we miss any of it. We sold a couple of things, but most of it we gave away, or donated. With the exception of those incredibly heavy IKEA Billy bookcases, the crystal cross that my Daddy gave me, and the doggie angel Christmas collectibles, I can’t say I miss any of it! In fact, as I sorted through a couple of bins that Vinny and Davey brought over, I asked myself, "Why did you feel such an attachment to this that you HAD to keep it?" Only one thing is still MIA that I was truly looking forward to having and displaying, and that is my collection of Hallmark Lighthouse Christmas ornaments. I thought I had "loaned" them to Vinny, or stored them in with some of the Christmas ornaments we kept. They have not yet turned up. But, they may be in a bin in our basement, since not all of those have been emptied yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Getting back to what Grace asked … I don’t think Raymond and I could’ve stayed in our old house and gradually downsized to get to where we are now. For us, the process was too overwhelming. It was better for us to simply get rid of our accumulated stuff in one fell swoop. It was better for us to walk away. It was better to move absolute essentials (or what we thought were absolute and essential) into our RV, and learn to live in a tiny space. That experience required us to become more organized, to own less, and to be content with what fit in less than 200 square feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, truthfully, while we were traveling, we were fine. Discontent set in when we spent 20 months in one place. It was during our stationary time in North Carolina, that we felt claustrophobic. Our choice, to either continue traveling, or to settle somewhere. We choose to settle down. But, that time in the RV taught us to live with less, to be more organized, and it was a needed lesson. It was also a lesson we took in and made part of us. We no longer have the need nor the urge to buy and accumulate stuff. That is NOT to say that we don’t buy anything. Just ask the UPS, Fed Ex, or USPS delivery person. But, we are more attentive about what we acquire. That circumspection is a direct result of dumping most of what we owned, living in less than 200 square feet, and realizing what is really important.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In some ways we seem to have come full circle, by returning to western PA. In some ways, maybe we have. But, our return is as better human beings, people with a greater sense of self and others, and a deeper appreciation of what really matters in this life. For us the journey home required drastic action before we could click our heels and say, "There’s no place like home".</span><br />
<br />JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-71865877166421002882015-12-20T11:31:00.001-05:002017-01-30T18:20:36.160-05:00INSTEAD OF A CHRISTMAS LETTER...<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 20px;">
2015 Dec 18</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 20px; min-height: 23px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">It has been one month, and a couple of days, since our return to the western Pennsylvania area. It has been a month of adjustments, changes, and adaptations, along with new beginnings in old situations.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">We have settled in at our new-to-us home, in Ambridge. We have met a few of our neighbors, and discovered that, in addition to us, there are several other newcomers to our immediate neighborhood. We felt extremely blessed that the weather in western PA was unseasonably warm during our first month back. That made for easier adaptation, after experiencing little true winter weather these past four years. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">We have gotten much of what we needed to furnish and make our house functional. Because of the kindness of Martha, we have seating in our den, and side tables in our family room/man cave. In the living room, we have a brand new sofa, thanks to the benevolence of Carolyn. The future family space, or man cave, in our finished basement, has plenty of seating thanks to Barbara, who also, through her generous gift to us, made possible several Craig’s List purchases, and the ability to hire people with trucks to haul Martha’s wonderful donations, as well as the family room furniture. And, dear Pat and Van, supplied us, through their bountiful Home Depot gift card, a new microwave, and large wheeled trash receptacles! The previous owners left us a couple of lamps, as well. All in all, the only things still on our list of needed items are a bed frame and headboard, and more kitchen chairs, and <i>possibly </i>an expandable table, for when more than four people are eating together.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">We have a wonderful bunch of friends and family, who made the adjustments that much easier. Dear Laura, who in the midst of her own life altering events, came to North Carolina, as promised, to drive our Jeep back for us. I cannot thank her enough! My brothers, Vinny and Davey, who loaded all the stuff that had been stored in Vinny’s attic and basement, and brought it to our house AND unloaded it! All before we ever arrived! Again, thank you pales as a response to their hard work. And again, Vinny, on the day we arrived from North Carolina, spent five long hours, helping us unload the RV, and bring all that stuff into our new home. THEN he drove the Jeep, following me to the storage facility where the RV is now living. I am lucky to have such a brother. And Bill & Ann, my brother and sister-in-law, who are Ambridge residents, who have been helping us each step of the journey, though their guidance, their local knowledge, and their kindness. My sweet niece Jennifer, who brought us a beautiful Himalayan Salt candle holder, and offers unending positivity and love. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">On December 1, I began a new beginning, in an old situation. I returned to the family for whom I previously babysat. Another blessing, to be sure! When I was their babysitter in the past, there were two children, now there are three. My previous young charges have grown and changed. The boy, who is approaching nine years old, informed me the other day, while crossing a busy street in a commercial area, that he really didn’t hold <i>anyone’s</i> hand anymore. I explained that while I certainly understood, I was a bit nostalgic for the little boy whose hand I used to hold and who willingly held mine. His response: "That’s what my Mom says, too". The girl child, too, has changed from the tomboy, who happily wore her brother’s hand-me-downs and played in the dirt, to a junior Diva, with a flair for the dramatic, who loves wearing party dresses. The youngest, who came along after my tenure, seems to be a sweet, soft-spoken child. He and I are just beginning to establish a relationship. The only drawback to the job, is my commute. It is a 35-40 minute drive in the morning, which is long, but manageable, since the hour is early and traffic is usually light. However, my return commute is long and for three quarters, usually heavily trafficked. It sometimes stretches to 60-75 minutes, deals with crossing bridges at the downtown area, which any Pittsburgher will tell you, <b>is stressful.</b> I am attempting to learn calmness and developing the ability to go with the flow, even if the flow is only moving at 5 mph.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">All in all, I am glad to be back. Nearer to family. In a familiar situation. In a house which is much more manageable than the one we left. And, the lessons we learned along the way, have made us different people than the ones who headed out on the road. Better? Maybe. Wiser? Definitely.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px; min-height: 19px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-84755436213929058852015-10-12T14:01:00.000-04:002015-10-12T14:01:41.450-04:00<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
2015 Oct 12</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
Driving along Hwy 12 today, just north of Buxton, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the area. The clouds, sometimes high, white and fluffy, sometimes grey, heavy and daunting. The sunlight, in its many permutations. The wind, as it danced along the dunes and sea oats. The water, in its many forms, sea and sound, rain and mist. I was so overcome with emotion, I had tears in my eyes.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
I will greatly miss the beauty of this part of coastal NC. I will also miss the power of the area represented in the wind and water. I will miss the power of God that seems palpable here on the coast. The reflection of His glory in each sunrise and sunset, will be missed.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
Yet, I have had a gift given to me for which I am ever grateful. It has been a blessing to have lived here, on this island for 19+ months, a boon I shall forever cherish.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-59051948419774646812015-08-08T16:14:00.002-04:002015-08-08T16:32:23.474-04:00GOING HOME?<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
2015 Aug 8</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
In 2010, we began to seriously talk about, research, and plan for a life a full time travel, in an RV. I was desperate to get out of Pittsburgh’s North Side. Our neighborhood had NEVER felt like home to me. It was never the place I would’ve chosen to live. (I still harbor some unresolved feelings about having spent 20+ years in a neighborhood and house not really of my choosing, but that’s my own personal issue which I will eventually resolve.) Getting an RV and traveling was my grown up equivalent of running away. But, it also got us out of Pittsburgh, and the North Side, which I do not think would’ve happened without a dramatic exit. Now, I am willing to admit that there may have been better ways of dealing with my desperate unhappiness. But, the way things have played out, haven’t been all bad, or even really bad at all. We did travel and see areas that I had longed to visit for years. Places like Ely, Minnesota. I got to meet, in real life, a few people whom I had only known online. People like Kandy, Anick and Prin. (I missed out on meeting Alexis, Jennifer, and Shelley. But life isn’t over yet!) </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
The original plan when we began to travel, was to roam until we found a small town that we both loved. Unfortunately, we haven’t both loved the same places, or even the same climates. A couple of years into the adventure, Raymond began detailing his need of more space and being desirous of "settling" somewhere. The opportunity to be work campers at Ocean Waves Campground seemed to offer at least a partial solution. We had been campers at OWC in the past, both in tents and in our RV. Ray agreed to give it a shot. We have been here in Waves, NC since March 2014. Being two rather introverted people, living full time, in a 29’ Class C motor home, with no real privacy or personal space, has proven to be a greater challenge than we anticipated. And, while I enjoy my work camping experience, which consists of cleaning bathhouses with my husband a couple of morning each week, and working in the office/camp store a couple of days, my dear husband is not as enamored with his responsibilities. He has become quite adept at bathhouse cleaning, but the two mornings he spends weed whacking and blowing grass cuttings, are, especially in June, July and August, sweat drenched days, that result in muscle spasms. He claims to be ready "to be fully retired". Add that to the fact that he has been wanting to put down roots, and you see why he wants to get off the road, even though, technically, we haven’t moved the motor home since March 2014. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
For me, I am missing family, friends, and familiarity. When I lost my Father, in January 2014, I lost my anchor. No matter where we were, or how far we travelled, my Daddy was always in Pittsburgh. And I always made sure to be traveling somewhere nearby in September, so I could celebrate his birthday with him. All my siblings live in the Pittsburgh area, and since my Dad’s passing, I feel a greater need to connect with them. I never thought, when I pulled out of our driveway in the motor home, that moving back to Pittsburgh would be an option for me. But it is. NOT into the city proper, and definitely NOT to the North Side, but back to an area less than a ten hour drive from family. Back to an area with up to the minute medical care. Back to an area of good pizza, and perogies. Will I regret this move? I hope not. But, there was something very special about having one of my nieces say, when I told her we will be moving back, "WOO HOO!!! Can’t wait to have you guys nearby again!!!.." There is something special about feeling wanted :) </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
In the recesses of my brain, I had thought that we might settle in coastal NC. And I harbored fantasies that some of my siblings might one day relocate there as well. That, it seems was simply fantasy. After spending the last 17 months in coastal Carolina, about 65 miles south of my "happy place", there has been one visit by multiple siblings, and no discussion of anyone relocating. I have been disillusioned by both locals and tourists. I am a Yankee. And, in addition, I am a left leaning liberal. And while normally, I discourage such labels, I mention them here, to illustrate why I don’t really seem to fit in, even though I had thought this to be my happy place. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
I long for a tribe, a group of like minded people, who will understand and accept my quirks. I desire someone with whom to have breakfast, or lunch. I want to have a space where people will feel free to drop by. I want a neighborhood library. I know that I am, for the most part, an introvert. I do best with one or two people at a time. I wish for folks who understand that. I want to live somewhere with options - movies, plays, recycling centers, stuff that I don’t find right now.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
In the midst of the beauty of this coastal place, I came to realize that perhaps this <b><i>is</i></b> my happy place, but in a 'vacation here a couple times yearly' kind of way, not a 'live here day to day' way. Who knows? I am willing to say that nothing is etched in stone, at this point. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
I fear this writing has been too much stream of consciousness, and not enough structured understanding and explanation. I love that life is not etched in stone. I don't expect people to fully understand any of this. But, I am going home. No matter how much I might have wanted to get away, I am beginning to accept that I am a Pittsburgher, in ways I never realized until I lived away, and on the road. Perhaps I am simply a slow learner. I have lived in other places, Kansas, and Hawaii, come to mind, and I returned to Pittsburgh from both of those areas, as well. And though we are returning to Pittsburgh, we will still travel, visit and explore. We have never, either of us, been to Montana, Washington, or Oregon. We loved the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. If our health and well being continues, there is no reason we can't visit Alaska. But, for now, we are going home in November.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-25583122731049785522015-07-13T11:27:00.000-04:002015-12-21T13:58:19.109-05:00HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RON<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px;">
2015 July 13</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; min-height: 28px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
Happy Birthday, Ron.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
Today is the birthday of my brother-in-law, Ron, Raymond’s younger brother. I wish him on this day, blessings, joy, love, and cake! I do not really, even after 30+ years, know him well. He tends to be a <b><i>very </i></b>private person, not one who shares personal experiences or anecdotes. The things I <b>do </b>know include, but are not limited to: knowing he enjoys his business, I have described him on occasion as a workaholic; he is a car guy; he has a kind heart, though he does not wear it on his sleeve; he attends church more regularly than most, including me; he is smitten with his grandchildren; he has begun to talk about cutting back his hours at work, (which I thought would never happen); he is a creature of habit; he pays attention to his health. There are other things, but these few will suffice for this birthday.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
I have never felt really close to Ron, yet he has welcomed us into his home on more than one occasion since we have been "on the road". He places great store in family, though I do not know if this has always been the case, or if it is a function of age and maturity. No matter, it <b><i>is </i></b>part of who he is now.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
More than anything, when I look at photos of Ron with his grandchildren, I see the joy in his eyes, and I am glad for him to have that experience.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
So, to the brother-in-law I may yet have the chance to get to know well, I wish many more years enjoying those boys who call you "Pap", and many more years appreciating and basking in the really important things life has to offer.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px; min-height: 21px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 18px;">
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-58982899593463102022015-07-09T15:29:00.000-04:002015-07-09T15:33:36.191-04:002015 July 8 DREAM<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
Dream</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
Upon awakening this is what I remembered of a dream that I had right before I woke up.</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
First part, I was with Bob, Lois, Brittany and Molly Kuttesch, leaving their home. Bob was escorting me to the North Side of Pittsburgh. Not sure exactly why. But we had a very companionable conversation, which ended at a small house on the NS, which belonged to a very friendly black woman, whom I did not know, but with whom we had stopped to chat for awhile. Wherever I was headed, I parted ways with Bob at this point. The woman went into her house and for a moment, I considered asking her if I could shower at her house. For some reason, I had no idea where my destination was, but I desperately wanted to shower and wash my hair.</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
Morph to the next part of the dream. I have no idea where I was (as in what or whose home, or what city or neighborhood)</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
This is the part that REALLY stuck with me when I woke up.</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
I was looking at myself in a full length mirror, and I can’t remember if I was naked completely, but I definitely had naked arms, shoulders, and most of my upper torso. I was upset by my reflection. The reason for my upset was that I was looking at: 1. protruding bones of my shoulders, neck, scapula, and ribs; 2. I was looking and seeing myself from an odd perspective, in that everything else in the mirror seemed to be at a perspective normal to a person of my non dreaming height, however, my own personage was shorter, much like a little person, if you can understand that (it was like I was looking down on myself); 3. I thought that my boney reflection was the result of having cancer.</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
I awoke and ran the contents of the dream over and over in my head. Because my DH doesn’t believe in the power of dreams to help you work through issues, I tried very hard to seek reasons that could’ve contributed to the dream. These are instances that the DH would say influenced my dream content: 1. I read a posting on Facebook by one of the K family before going to bed last night; 2.My BFF’s Dad was recently diagnosed with thyroid cancer; 3. I had an interaction with a longtime friend last night who is in a lifelong struggle with an eating disorder.</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
Taking all that into consideration, do any of you have insight into dreams? Can any of you offer any guidance?</div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 18px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-50007040727725852032015-06-11T15:02:00.002-04:002017-06-11T21:19:29.010-04:00<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ovBRhg5uPiH3PqX6SHnQsysCtH6aG5kmXN6wBg8LL2uYkzA1PLMFlt9TLl4LLAqp3us88LSAPmfxXU5aWIQMxoZK2b2an3irthrSuN76zxexR0Gprese9cC11QgJ0YbhpGdpl2u5uoVz/s1600/IMG_2846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ovBRhg5uPiH3PqX6SHnQsysCtH6aG5kmXN6wBg8LL2uYkzA1PLMFlt9TLl4LLAqp3us88LSAPmfxXU5aWIQMxoZK2b2an3irthrSuN76zxexR0Gprese9cC11QgJ0YbhpGdpl2u5uoVz/s640/IMG_2846.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
This is Jack. His owners are staying at Ocean Waves Campground. They wanted to take a day trip to Ocracoke Island today, and mentioned they were thinking of putting Jack in a kennel for a day. This conversation happened yesterday, while I was working in the store. Anyway, one thing lead to another, and I offered to dog sit for the day. In my mind, it was great, because I wasn't working today, and I could get a bit of a canine fix. I failed to remember that we clean bathhouses on Thursdays. Oops. Raymond was quick to point out my error when I mentioned that the Peters would be bringing Jack by to acclimate a little bit yesterday evening.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
This morning, Jack's owners came by to drop him off at 6AM, on their way to the ferry. They bought his favorite toy, his chewy bone, his food & water dishes, treats, his towel, and his leash and long tie out and his dinner. Off they went, after making sure we had each other's phone numbers, just in case. Jack was fine, until they pulled out and drove off. At that point he seemed a little anxious.</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWa-yC2ekMydV4ip1bg6MyxOxthZQ8aRf4g4B-46YTJ6bLSmAyHU-4BMN9JHWeqn1Nh0wtEOZSXO4JUK5PbrYpBsH6-kcgJ953DOhoQ_qU9qPqrX1Bw2Q6wHoYk1BoItIcxyhdjNJQQhsq/s1600/IMG_2844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWa-yC2ekMydV4ip1bg6MyxOxthZQ8aRf4g4B-46YTJ6bLSmAyHU-4BMN9JHWeqn1Nh0wtEOZSXO4JUK5PbrYpBsH6-kcgJ953DOhoQ_qU9qPqrX1Bw2Q6wHoYk1BoItIcxyhdjNJQQhsq/s400/IMG_2844.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
The temperature at 6:30 was already 74F, with humidity at 98%. The question on my mind, and Raymond's was: when will we be able to do the bathrooms? If we waited till Jack's parents returned, it would be too late for bathroom duty, as well as, way too hot. Taking Jack with us made no sense. Leaving Jack alone, even for a couple of hours seemed irresponsible. Especially, since Jack had reacted to his owners' leaving by standing at the edge of the driveway, starring off in the direction they went for several minutes. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtdRpx_ZNNhx7y8kB9LjHvltQqU2PdvGNmJkzUyNW234bIRbYipe7T8206tMNucFllwwC4VFwGnVM3EZNkMjqliJR4sII8xIN7FIffxNZTWApRLSdUghfFKRbzxOolMDG1SPUsmo8OMNq/s1600/IMG_2843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAtdRpx_ZNNhx7y8kB9LjHvltQqU2PdvGNmJkzUyNW234bIRbYipe7T8206tMNucFllwwC4VFwGnVM3EZNkMjqliJR4sII8xIN7FIffxNZTWApRLSdUghfFKRbzxOolMDG1SPUsmo8OMNq/s320/IMG_2843.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38eWOhY1xx2-gfnxRI2WLqPSDKXJWCN9iWSt5lSGxkFw0MdbJdcmYjg3PtDHiE59gulRjqbp8lJtcPU4aPzfRWSPyaf8JQn7EiuiKeVUM866OM8s7aJElwOEVBw3FwKToujOSZJUJrvdq/s1600/IMG_2850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38eWOhY1xx2-gfnxRI2WLqPSDKXJWCN9iWSt5lSGxkFw0MdbJdcmYjg3PtDHiE59gulRjqbp8lJtcPU4aPzfRWSPyaf8JQn7EiuiKeVUM866OM8s7aJElwOEVBw3FwKToujOSZJUJrvdq/s320/IMG_2850.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rIC1cqRFNJf4mkFs_4ykdEPVeO9tMLmWXHHtPmhpiEymxMG-ScGsu3LKci5NXbN53Fha42lY1dsz4ZIy1oM_kS1ymdAsagcusgOcmJGfxg-b7xwIshQKWcVVOPPz7WjM9VUbYudegxVE/s1600/IMG_2849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rIC1cqRFNJf4mkFs_4ykdEPVeO9tMLmWXHHtPmhpiEymxMG-ScGsu3LKci5NXbN53Fha42lY1dsz4ZIy1oM_kS1ymdAsagcusgOcmJGfxg-b7xwIshQKWcVVOPPz7WjM9VUbYudegxVE/s320/IMG_2849.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
It was decided that I would take the work truck, go and do the ladies side in all three bathhouses. Then, Ray would take the golf cart and do the men's sides. I would go first, since Ray was in the middle of his daily viewing of Mike & Mike, on ESPN. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
Once out doing the bathhouses, I decided to do both the men's and women's at the beach bathhouse and the middle bathhouse. My plan was to then let Ray do the remaining small bathhouse, which is close to our site. That way, he could access everything he needed without having to transfer it to a golf cart. The plan seemed to be a good one. (Leaving aside the details of how awful the ladies beach and men's middle were.) I was happy to get my portion done. I was looking forward to a shower and spending time with Jack. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
When I approached our RV, Ray and Jack were outside. Ray had taken Jack for a short walk and a pee break. Only now, Jack refused to return to the RV. I took Jack's lead, and Ray went inside. I asserted, begged, cajoled, and pleaded, yet Jack simply hunkered down, refusing to walk toward the RV. The sun was baking, and it was sticky hot! But Jack was having none of moving toward the cool air of the RV. So, I thought, let's walk across the street to the shade and grass, which we did. Still, any move to walk anywhere near the direction of our RV, was met with diligent opposition from Jack. I am not sure how much Jack weighs, but he is muscular and when he stops, there is no moving him. So, we walked. Farther from the RV. We got as far as site number 6, where Mr Stuart and Ms Stella are camped. Theirs is a shady site. Jack still refused to turn toward the highway and the direction of our RV. Now his refusal came in the form of lying down in the grass by Stuart and Stella's picnic table. I tried being authoritative. I tried bribery. I tried pleading. Jack was having none of it. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
Finally, Mr Stuart came out. He tried being authoritative. He tried being commanding. Still Jack refused to budge. Stuart went inside and returned with a bribe, consisting of bread. Jack liked the bread, even stood up, but still refused to walk, especially in the direction of our RV. Stuart suggested I go and get the Jeep, while he stayed with Jack the statue. </div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
I returned driving the Jeep, with Jack's favorite toy alongside me. I pulled up next to where Jack had planted himself, leaned over, opened the passenger door, said, "Come, Jack! I have your toy!" Jack was up, and in the Jeep, almost before I got that out of my mouth! Stuart closed the door to the Jeep and said, "Well, now we know what this dog likes - he likes to go for a ride."</div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px;">
I drove to our site, got Jack out of the passenger side, after showing him his toy, and talking up how awesome that toy is. I had a minor moment of panic when I thought Jack was going to put on the brakes, but I kept using my excited, playtime voice, and he finally bounded toward the RV. I opened the door and he leaped up the steps, into the cool air inside. He sat sweetly, looking as though none of the previous activity ever took place. Then, he happily took the treat I offered, drank some water, laid down, and went to sleep.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEfTpevSYNhQ1QPwceqdKeXxHLiyFrXVeu9CSNpeGM57KHaYoXP_eKagbmIVI3iKwtPqb06wc0J0bTUou9vJAZC1yuMx4Z-FN76dgJYEt41pziny_TXLAfoexbEN1hcZsyUbPK36XLKoZ/s1600/IMG_0140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEfTpevSYNhQ1QPwceqdKeXxHLiyFrXVeu9CSNpeGM57KHaYoXP_eKagbmIVI3iKwtPqb06wc0J0bTUou9vJAZC1yuMx4Z-FN76dgJYEt41pziny_TXLAfoexbEN1hcZsyUbPK36XLKoZ/s640/IMG_0140.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sleepytime Jack</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 19px; min-height: 22px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-26657449556188842772015-05-28T13:01:00.001-04:002015-05-28T13:01:59.114-04:00Regrets<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Watched a phoot essay about Dukey, a black lab whose owners documented his last day. It was filled with love, smiling pictures of Dukey, and his many friends who shared a portion of his day prior to his euthanasia. It broke my heart. I sobbed uncontrollably. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part of the reason may be that it was too close to home. It is only 6 months since we had Greyla put down. And Dukey was a black lab, like Greyla. Yet, the tearing in my heart and the tears rolling down my face feel like tears of regret.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The regret exists bc our timing, mine and Greyla's was always off. It took me years into her tenure with us, for me to fully love and accept her. She was not an easy dog. And she came to us too soon after the loss of Jake, my heart dog, for me to bond easily early on in the relationship. But, eventually we did bond. But my regret was always that it had taken me so long to accept her for who she was. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then, there was the regret that came toward the end of her life. I am not convinced that our timing regarding the end of her life was flawless. She was in physical decline for a long time prior to our decision to let her go in mid November. Total strangers in the campground last spring and summer would question our motives regarding keeping her going. I was deeply wounded by those questions. But, we took her back to Pittsburgh in April last year for a complete physical, which showed her to be in metabolic good health. She had some arthritis changes in her spine and hips, but those were not a good enough reason to end her life, we reasoned. These were things treatable with anti-inflammatories and pain meds. So, she returned with us to NC, and lived out several more months. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Greyla's vision was poor due to cataracts, but she asked to go out walking in the grass multiple times daily, bc she LOVED sniffing the grass, and the ocean air. We adjusted her meds as necessary in an attempt to keep her paint free, as much as possible. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her appetite was good, though odd. For a short period, she would only eat her holistic, grain free, organic dog food IF it was topped with Spaghetti-o's! But she had an appetite. One of our criteria for deciding when to let go of our dogs over the years, included observing their appetite, fluid intake, and pain management. She seemed good on all three counts.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yet, I wonder still, if we were looking for reason to hang on to our girl. When I looked at the pictures of Dukey, today I saw a joy that I do not remember seeing in Greyla during her last five or six months on this earth. Perhaps our criteria for keeping her going was too narrow. Perhaps, it was bc of our wonky timing issues. I was so slow to come to love and accept her, that in the end, I was again too slow. This time, too slow to love her enough to let her go. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know that I will never have a definite answer to the guilt and anguish I feel about Greyla. I know that life is a crap shoot, that we all make mistakes. And I know that in time, I will probably come to grips with my questions regarding Greyla, and accept that even if our timing was off, it was still OK, bc we erred on the side of caution and love. It's just that I'm not there yet.</span></div>
<br />JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-618873943805025079.post-78639814667263939802015-05-03T15:10:00.002-04:002015-05-03T15:10:56.568-04:00Thoughts on the Future<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">2015 May 3</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 21px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">Lately I have been short-tempered. I find myself irritated by relatively minor things. I have been wondering why. Yes, I have been sick, but I'm recovering nicely. Yes, the weather has been peculiar, but we have a roof over our heads and the capacity to warm ourselves. We have too many, frequent reminders of how much we miss Greyla. I haven't spoken to my brothers or sister in a couple of months, nor have I spoken to Laura, my dear sister from another mother, in a long time. All these are contributory, I am sure.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">However, the major factor causing my short temper and my crankiness, is the uncertainty of our future. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">We have decided that we are done traveling full-time. As part of the transition, we have been here working as work campers on Hatteras Island since March 2014. We even spent the winter here, while the campground was closed. We do not wish to do that again. We seem to have an easier time deciding what we don't want to do, as opposed to what we do want to do. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Don't get me wrong. I enjoy work camping, especially here at Ocean Waves, where it feels like a pleasant village. I would, if they would have me, come back to work camp here again next year. The problem is my husband, who has made his preference clear, and </span><u style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">he wants to be retired</u><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">. He wants to work on his time and terms. So, I think returning as work campers at </span>OWC<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">, is a very remote possibility, since more often than not, they like couples as work campers. It makes the future even more uncertain, since it means there is uncertainty regarding both our winter plans and our plans for next year. <u>IF</u> we were returning to OWC, then we could focus on finding a furnished winter rental from November till March or April. </span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">But, do we plan on a winter rental? Something for just November thru April? That would be feasible IF we were returning to Ocean Waves Campground next year. And I DO want to return. R does, too, but as a camper, which for the most part is NOT financially possible.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">Do we look for a long term, 1 year rental? A possibility, but where? </span><span style="font-size: large;">We think we might want to simply stay in coastal NC, but NOT on Hatteras Island, due to the isolation of the Island in the winter months.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">Do we look at buying a condo? There are a few in a price range that meets our needs. Do we want to live in Corolla, Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, or Manteo?</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">My heart has always been in Corolla, though I can see some benefit to Manteo. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">There just seem to be more questions than answers with regard to our future.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">Throw into the mix the idea that maybe we should head back to Pittsburgh, and I begin to see why I have been feeling irritated and ill tempered lately.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">
<span style="font-size: large;">What to do, what to do…</span></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 16px;">
<br /></div>
JeanMarie Kleppickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11761688835242922154noreply@blogger.com0