My Awesome Husband Blog

"Greg on the Rocks," Dec. 13, 2008, Uwharrie National Forest; Jeep driven by good friend, John Craven. Please note: This photo has absolutely nothing to do with the content of this post, other than that they both have my husband in them. Any resemblance that John's Jeep -- and/or the pile of rocks beneath it -- bears to the description of my father's car is strictly coincidental.

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This post has been a while in the planning. You'll note the title -- "My Awesome Husband..." Well, even though December 19 was the anniversary of the day Greg asked me to marry him, I had to wait until I was actually feeling his awesomeness at the same time that I happened to be blogging! At last...

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On December 19, 1972, Greg asked me to marry him. Although I remember stuff like that, I'm not a stickler about commemorating the occasion with dinner out and a bouqet of flowers -- I just like to remember.

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I also remember what I was wearing that day (a forest green wool tweed jumper that zipped up the front and a dark green turtle-neck) and how my hair looked (green highlights, because I'd tried to cover up a botched "frosting" job with semi-permanent hair color, and after the first shampoo, everything that wasn't "natural" was green).

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I can still see Greg pulling up in front of the trailer that temporarily housed the savings & loan association where I worked. (I don't remember what he was wearing, but if I ventured a guess, I bet I wouldn't be too far off -- he just didn't have as many cute outfits as I did!)

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He was driving my dad's beat-up old car (the make of which I also don't remember -- just that it was a "clunker"). That was because he had filled in for Dad that morning on his round of office-cleaning jobs. My sister's boyfriend had also helped, and that's how Greg came to find out that Dave had let Bev in on his little secret -- that he was going to give me a diamond ring for Christmas(!!) Of course once Greg realized that Bev knew, he worried that his surprise might not remain a surprise, so he decided to lose no time in springing it on me.

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Now here's where I'm going to share my little secret -- I saw it coming! Yep, Greg liked to play this little game where he'd have me guess what he was giving me for Christmas. He'd say, "It's something round," and I'd say, "Umm, a record?" (IFor those who don't know that that is, picture a CD or DVD, only much bigger, and less shiny.) Somehow, though, I knew that he was going to give me a ring -- I just never dared to guess that. After all, there were plenty of other "round" options at my disposal: tire, plate, wheel...It's funny, though, that he was so sure I'd never guess.

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Anyway, the way he popped the question was a big surprise -- sticking his head in that trailer and asking me to step outside for a minute. I was too curious to be concerned that something might be wrong. I just remember looking at Head Teller Jane for permission, and her saying, "Sure, go ahead," with a what-th... look on her face. (I guess curiosity must have gotten the best of her, too, because even though she was sort of like a mom to me, she didn't even tell me to grab a coat -- although it was probably like 10 degrees outside!)

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So how romantic was that?! I climbed into Dad's junk heap on the driver's side, probably pushing trash off the seat and crushing it onto the floor. (Sorry, Dad, but you know how your cars were!) I remember Greg getting in and starting the engine, just to keep warm, and -- now I might be making this part up, but I'm pretty sure I remember seeing H.T. Jane peeking out the window right about then.

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I remember the look on Greg's face (How could I forget such total cuteness?) as he told me he wanted to ask me something. And I'm pretty sure I knew what it was as soon as he put his hand in his pocket. (Hey -- I just remembered something else -- He was wearing a jacket!)

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Of course I said yes with absolutely no hesitation -- and then, giddy with excitement, I had to go right back in and be a teller for the rest of the day. Needless to say, I don't remember any of that -- Hey, we could have been held up by Trailer Pirates, and I'd probably still only remember December 19, 1972, as the day Greg asked me to marry him.

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Which, of course, I did. (Sept. 28 post, "Happy Anniversary to Us!"

Baby with Beer -- a Limerick and a Haiku (sort of)

Kate with Beer, Circa 1953. I'm sure the photographer wishes to remain anonymous -- Besides, I don't remember who took it -- I was wasted!

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By way of explanation (because I always feel like I have to do that -- explain, I mean), I am retiring this adorable photograph of myself with my first (I hope!) beer. At least retiring it as the photo that appears with my blog profile. I don't know about you, but that makes me feel kinda sad. But let's face it...The new photo of the bowl of chairies looks as much like I do now as this one does! Ok. Maybe there should be a beer in that picture, too; but if you knew how much time I've already put into "editing" my "profile," you'd say, "WHATEVER," too!

Now here's my limerick:

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There once was a baby whose eyes

Could be described as being "cap-sized."

I mention it here

Because of the beer.

She'd be normal, I think, otherwise.

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Now how about a haiku? (It's free.)

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Beer-Bottle Baby

With enormous cap-sized eyes.

Who's your supplier?

Mom's Birthday Blog

Photo of Pink Roses from "Webshots," 1/27/09

Today would be my mom's 79th birthday. I can't picture what she would look like. She had just celebrated her 71st birthday one month before she died. She looked beautiful then, in spite of having been in the hospital (with no access to her makeup, wardrobe and hairdresser -- not even a mirror) for a month! I'm sure she's still beautiful -- I just can't picture her.

I have no trouble at all, however, picturing her at different times in my life...

I remember sitting in our living room when I was a kid, watching her laugh delightedly as she shot rubber darts at the newspaper my dad was holding up in front of his face. All of us kids were just sitting there, watching and enjoying her laughter. (I suppose she had confiscated the dart gun from one of us, but I can't imagine where we would have gotten it; it wasn't the kind of thing Mom would have brought home.)

It was unusual for Mom to engage in such Tom-foolery. (Yes, the pun was totally intended, heh-heh. I crack myself up sometimes.) I suppose that's why my dad just sighed and put his paper back up every time her dart sent it flying from his grip. Even though he tried to look disgruntled, he was enjoying the game, too.

I remember Mom's laugh. (Not that I can describe it for you -- I just remember it.) I also remember how her voice sounded in all of its different strengths and volumes. That's noteworthy only because ever since I read in a book shortly after she had died that you forget a loved one's voice after about three years, I've been waiting to forget. But I remember -- and I'm glad.

I remember how uncomfortable she looked (only as I think back) when she took me to the Miss Michigan Pageant when I was 18 or 19. She did that for me. She didn't complain, or let on that she felt awkward and out of place. I only realized years later, as I remembered. And I loved her more than ever for it, because I also felt awkward and out of place. But I took courage -- perhaps even a little bit of confidence -- from my mom. The best thing -- the only good thing -- that came from the experience was the closeness I felt with her. And that I remember.

I remember the worried look on her face the day I was wheeled into the operating room to have Meagan delivered. I had never seen her look that way. She was positively gray with worry. (Some of that might have been from the early hour and the gray coat she was wearing, but that's what I remember.) Mom worked very hard at appearing never to lose her calm, always to be in control. Years later, when I commented on that particular memory, she denied that she had been worried. (See what I mean?) But I knew. And I was touched.

And that's what I remember most about Mom during her last month with us in the hospital -- That we were allowed to see her vulnerable, human side. For some reason, she had lived her life thinking that she needed to always be strong, invincible. For the same reason that I can remember the times when she laughed playfully, I can also remember the times she cried in front of us -- They were few and far between.

Among the memories of Mom's last weeks, I think the ones we treasure most are the ones of her as our "Baby-Bird Mom" -- how she somehow became small and delicate, and how she needed us, whereas before, she had always seemed larger-than-life and completely self-sufficient.

We've all talked about how it felt during that time, when we realized that she was really looking at us -- right through our eyes, and into our hearts -- and when she told us what she loved about us. It was the same Mom that we'd always loved, but a different Mom than we were used to. It allowed us to love -- and and to remember -- her in a different way.

I once read a description of the rose as being the most difficult flower in the garden, needing lots of attention and nurturing. (And of course there are those thorns!) But its beauty makes it well worth the trouble. I think that aptly describes our Mom-Rose.

Just as choosing a birthday gift for Mom always presented a special challenge -- finding something that would make her feel loved and appreciated -- so thinking about what I would write today has had some blog-clogging potential. I know that my sisters (maybe even my brothers?) will read it, so I'm writing for them. I don't want to make anyone feel sad. In fact, in hoping to make them smile, I have searched for a poem I wrote on Mom's birthday the year before she died. I couldn't find it, but I do remember the first verse:

Of all the moms I've ever known,

You're the very best.

As a matter of fact, compared to you,

I don't even like the rest!

You'd probably have to be related to us to think that's funny, but trust me -- it was when I wrote it! I remember how Mom laughed when she read it. That's a precious-good memory.

I feel blessed to have so many good memories of you, Mom. I love you, and miss you. I try to hold onto every dream I have about you, because they bring you back in a very real way. I'm sorry if this makes anyone who reads it sad. I guess that's just the way it is.

(I do appreciate your reading it, though.)

Book Blog

You know how when you're reading a really good book (i.e., The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets by Eva Rice), and as you near the end, you start slowing down because you're reluctant to be finished and have to start another one that you may not enjoy quite as much?

Well, that happened to me yesterday. Except I didn't slow down at the end, because I was eager to see how it was all going to come out. (It did not disappoint.) So then I was faced with the dilemma, Now what do I read? There are piles of books in my house -- at least one (pile) in every room. They're all things that I'm going to read some day -- if I live long enough. Some of them I've bought myself through the years (and yes, a lot of them during my short tenure as a book seller when I could get them at an extra 30% off); some were "loaned" to me by my sisters and my friends; some were "gifted" to me by same, and I hope I'll be able to remember which ones I'm expected to return! And of course I never come home from a trip to the library with Jordyn without at least one or two selections of my own...And that's where I usually start -- library books, because they have to be returned, eventually.

So yesterday, as I headed out the door to pick my Jordyn up from school, I grabbed one from the library pile -- Dear Zoe by Philip Beard. Bloggees, I don't know what I was worried about! I cried even as I read the set-up inside the jacket. (If you know me, you know that's a good thing. Nothing makes me happier than a book or a movie that brings me to tears!)

The entire book is a letter from Tess (who I'm guessing is around 16) to her three-year-old half-sister, Zoe, who was killed when she was hit by a car on September 11, 2001. Her death had nothing to do with the other events of 9/11, and that's part of Tess's personal grief. The following paragraph, which I read this morning, shot straight through my heart; if I had read it before I blogged on the anniversary of my dad's death (Jan. 4), I might have plagiarized!

"Even though it's been almost a year, sometimes I still miss you so much it feels like someone is pushing their finger into the base of my throat and I cry like it just happened yesterday. But now when I cry like that it kind of feels like it cleans me out, and each time it happens it feels like I'm going to have a little longer until it happens again and usually I do. It's not that I'm missing you less. It's more like I'm finding a place to keep you."

Maybe it's just me, but I love that. I'll have to really pace myself on this book, because it's not very long. I just hope I'll be able to find something else that I'll like as much when I've finished...

The Day We Met an Artist

Painting by Addren Doss, Price Park, Greensboro NC, 12/30/08

On one of the last days of 2008 -- during Christmas vacation-- Jordyn and I went to the Kathleen Clay Edwards branch of the Greensboro Library. We love our library! I can't remember exactly when the branch opened, but it's relatively new. It's located amidst nature trails and ponds, yet right in the city -- less than two miles from our house. On nice days, we usually take a walk after we've checked out our books. And once we even took a wild and crazy hay ride during one of the after-school events they have regularly for kids. Yes, the library is one of our favorite places to go -- and it's free!

On this particular day in late December, we noticed a woman with an easel set up beside the path as we drove up the hill. Jordyn asked if we could stop and watch her, and I said that yes, if she was still there when we were leaving, we could ask her if it would be okay if we watched her for a while.

Now that Jordyn is reading on her own, we spend a little more time in the library, since she likes to sit down and sample the books she's chosen before we check them out. As we were walking back to the car, she glanced down the hill, and immediately burst into tears -- something she's wont to do when she's tired and things don't go exactly according to her plan. She wailed, "Ooooh! The artist is gone now!"

Well, when she does that, I always do this: "Jordyn, stop crying! There's nothing to cry about! You don't know that she's gone! Maybe you just can't see her from here! Did you ever think of that?!!!" (No, I'm not proud of myself -- I'm just saying. I get tired, too, sometimes!)

Thank goodness, this time I was right! Our artist was still at work!

I slowed the car and asked if she would mind if we got out and watched her for a few minutes; she said that would be fine, but she was just finishing up for the day. A friend (fellow-artist?) had joined her, and together they explained that she was using pastel chalks (I think that's what she said, but I may be wrong).

Jordyn looked at that delicious tray of colors, and I knew that she was aching to touch them, but she didn't even ask. She was very quiet, actually, but she was taking it all in. She loves to paint, draw, color -- but especially paint -- the messier, the better. We always check out the "artist" books at the library, and try to find new things to try.

The artist, who turned out to be named Addren Doss, gave us her card, which had her website on it. Jordyn has not forgotten, and asks me at least once a week if we can visit it and look at her paintings. If you'd like to do that, the address is: http://www.addrendoss.com/. We were delighted to find the picture I used in this post, because it was the one she was working on the day we met her. She even had us stand where she had been standing, so we could see what she saw.

When Jordyn returned to school after the holidays, her teacher had the class write down a New Year's resolution. Jordyn's said: "To get better at be a artist." I think she will always remember the day we met Addren Doss. I know I will. It was a lovely thing for her to do -- to take time to spend with us as she was wrapping up her day. Thank you Addren Doss -- Your art is beautiful, and you are, too!

Snow Day!

Jordyn's Snow Angel, 1/20/09, by Greg

Tuesday, January 20, was the first Snow Day of the year for Greensboro.

It was really just a big tease -- Some of us had been hoping for so much more when we climbed under the covers Monday night! But still...

As you can see, the really determined were able to do with one inch what some of us thought would require at least six!

Anyway, here's the real Snow Angel!

Jordyn Paige Gottlieb, 1/20/09, by Greg

Won't somebody please give her some hot chocolate -- with whipped cream?!!!

More Loose Ends

Well, there's another loose end that I apparently need to tie up...



The sad reality is that I have been voted off the "Best Job I Ever Had" show! Apparently they really meant it when they said "seasonal" book seller.



I, however, was in major denial, thinking that if I could only prove to them that I wanted to be a book seller more than anyone they'd ever interviewed -- so much so that I'd gladly shell out five times more for merchandise (at 30% off!) than they would be paying me in wages each week) -- that there would be no way they would make me extinguish my torch!



What about all those alliances I had formed -- both with fellow employees and customers? I even learned all of their names -- both fellow employees and customers! I was so nice to everyone -- even on the days I wore my tiara, which meant I didn't really have to be!



Ah me. So sad. (So stop asking me how my job's going, ok? That is so not funny!)



You know, as I think about it, perhaps I can come up with a possible explanation or two...



Like, remember the day of the cowboy-boot/wet-floor incident (Dec. 24 post)? I actually regretted that there had been no one in the break room to witness my stupendous acrobatics. But maybe there was someone...What if there was a camera....

"The Fall" Being Filmed, by Kate (MSN Paint)

What if they got it on film? And what if, at the beginning of each shift, they have the employees all sit down and watch me throw my feet up in the air and smash my face on the corner of that table?

(They've probably even added a voice-over saying, "So be sure your feet are completely dry before you walk into the break room wearing cowboy boots!")

If that happened, I suppose I can see why they would vote me off...

R2D2 Blabs, by Kate (MSN Paint)

And then there was that R2D2 incident (Dec. 9 post)...What if that little monster did blab? What if he told them everything?

Oh, sure, he was as annoying as ridges in your socks, but he had been there a long time before I ever came onto the scene. I'm sure he'd formed an alliance or two himself...

That could also explain my poor doused torch.

Well, you live and you learn.

So now I'm filling out on-line job applications -- a process I hate so much, I think it's worth an entire post of its own -- some other time. I have to go now.

Happy Doctor With Reservations Blog

Trying-Not-to-Seem-Too-Pleased Doctor by Kate, 1/21/09 (MSN Paint)

Well now, I suppose this is on the order of a tying-up-loose-ends post. Actually, I have a few of those to do...

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On Friday, January 9, I had another appointment with Dr. Pulmonologist; I simply haven't had a moment to tell you about it! I'm pretty pleased, because this was the appointment where he told me I can start cutting back on the prednisone. (Which is exactly the way I wrote the script, and Dr. P. read it perfectly without having had so much as a passing glance at it beforehand!)

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You do you remember, don't you, when I did my "In Praise of Prednisone" advertisement (Dec. 13 post)? I was all like pushing the Big P because it was making me feel so good. At that point, I really was concerned that I would either not want to, or not be able to go off the stuff when the time came...

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But that changed rather quickly when all that joking about my face being so fat I could no longer get my pants on over my head became a reality! All of a sudden that little inner voice that will not be ignored was telling me it was time to quit. Oh, not cold turkey -- I'd been warned that a weaning process would be necessary, and I was prepared to deal with that. I just knew it was time to get started! Now if only my lovely Dr. Pulmonologist (whom I have continued to respect and trust throughout our 6-month relationship) would agree with me...

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Naturally, I had made Greg (who was kind enough to accompany me to my appointment with Dr. P.) privy to every little increment of the thought process that had led to my decision to reduce my medication...how I had most definitely seen improvement in my ability to draw a full breath and hold it for more than ten seconds without having it explode uncontrollably from my mouth and nose at the same time; how I was once more able to clog -- wide open, full-speed-ahead -- without my fingers turning blue; how I could read aloud to Jordyn (or to anyone else who might ask) without having to have a continuous feed of menthol cough drops...Why I even pointed out that I was able to sing like a lark, but I couldn't get him to buy that one!

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Anyway, prednisone has apparently done all of that for me in just about three months. Dare I expect further improvement (i.e., will I ever really be able to carry a tune)? Can I expect things to stay this good? Or should I expect everything to start falling apart again once I get this monkey off my back?

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I don't know. Neither does Dr. Pulmonologist. He says there's a 30 percent chance of any one of those three outcomes. (Well, maybe not the further-improvement option -- but perhaps we can hope that I'll never have breathing problems again?) And I didn't need to say one word to him about what I was thinking -- that prednisone has done about as much for me as it's going to, and that even if it hasn't completely banished all those nasty little granulomas from my lungs (Oct. 30 post) and put a halt to that insidious scar tissue, the benefits of my staying on 40 milligrams of the stuff no longer seem to outweigh the risks (like maybe strangling myself in a collar or waistband). He just came right out and said exactly what I was about to tell him. (I just knew he'd be able to see things my way! Now what's not to respect and trust about a doctor like that?!!)

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So I've been doing 30 mg for a few days now. That should continue through February. In March I get to go down to 20. By April, which is when I'll see the good doctor again and have another one of those cool pulmonary function tests -- but not with Mr. Scribbles this time (Oct. 8 and Oct. 14 posts) -- I'll be down to only 10 mg. Oh -- Dr. P. did mention that I may need to stay on a low dose for a while (forever?), but I'm planning to tell him that I won't. I'd rather tote around one of those cans of oxygen. And don't forget -- there's always the OxyBra (Oct. 16 post)!

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So in tying up those loose ends, I suppose that Dr. Pulmonologist is not the only one with reservations. I'm trying to keep mine hidden, though -- especially from myself. As far as I'm concerned, this is my Happy-Because-I-Got-What-I-Wanted-For-Now post, and I'm trying not to look any further ahead than tomorrow. Well, ok -- maybe I am kind of looking forward to doing one last "doctor" post -- the "Ecstatic Doctor Blog." But in case that's getting too far ahead of myself, perhaps this would be a good time to display my entire "Morphing Doctor" gallery for you -- Remember these guys?

Top: Doctor Blog (Sept. 25), Center: Scary Doctor Blog (Oct. 1), Bottom: Happy Doctor Blog (Nov. 18)

Don't worry, Bloggees -- I'll keep you posted!

My Inauguration Blog

"Frozen Flag" by Greg Fischer. (Taken during one of our North Carolina ice storms more than several years ago; can't remember exactly when.)

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Okay, this shall be my "momentous" post. Well, not that the post itself will be momentous -- unless you consider the fact that I'm actually (sort of) blogging about politics. I guess we could say that's momentous, in that it's probably going to be the only time I'll even come close to expressing a political opinion here. Or anywhere, for that matter. It's just not something I'm comfortable doing. Come on -- you know how wishy-washy I usually sound. It's not that I'm a fence-sitter or anything; I usually do get off on one side or the other. It's just that I'm a Libra! (Oh yeah, and I'm also not very good at expressing myself most of the time, so you couldn't possibly know what side I'm on anyway.)

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Wow -- maybe that paragraph should have come with a digression alert! Oh well...

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No, it's the subject of this post that is momentous, of course -- The Inauguration of Barack H. Obama as our 44th President! Now that was kind of awesome, wasn't it? Jordyn was here, because -- oh -- another momentous occasion -- today was the first Snow Day of the year(!) and I was more or less thinking that it would be neat if we could make that one of her childhood memories. George W. was already in office when she was born six years ago, so this is the first President to be inaugurated during her lifetime -- never mind what color he is!

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So Greg turned on the tv around 11:30, and we all sat there and watched the past Presidents (and all the other dignitary-types) come in -- well, actually, I guess they were going out -- brrrrrr! (Oops -- digressing again. See -- I told you I'm not comfortable discussing politics!) We saw Aretha sing, and Yoyo Ma and the other musicians (the spelling of whose names I'd have to stop and look up if I were to list them, but I think you probably know who they are, so just read on, ok?) perform their number. (Hey -- they were pretty good, eh?)

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Then Biden was sworn in. Then Obama. And Jordyn was totally prepared. Her 11-year-old sister, Taylor, had recited the Presidential Oath for her, and told her that there were 35 words in it. She was all ears, because she was listening to hear if he would actually say "I promise" (He didn't), and I think she was planning to count his words (But he went too darned fast). She listened, though. And I have no doubt that she'll remember...

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After that, she was ready to go out and play in the snow some more. (I admit I couldn't make it through the whole speech without getting up to go to the bathroom.) I liked the speech. I like Obama. I'm just going on gut feelings here (as usual), but I trust him as much as I would trust anyone to do the job he's been elected to do.

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Now would you like to hear the really cool part?

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I can't remember the name of the minister who said the invocation (sorry), but just as he got to the words of the "Lord's Prayer," a pudgy little bird (perhaps an oriole? Definitely not a hummingbird) got right in front of our living room window and did that buzzy-wings-hover thing that I thought only hummingbirds could do! Now I don't know exactly what that means, but I know it means something momentous!

No. 100 -- Jogging My Clogged Blog!

"Blog No. 100" by Kate (MSN Paint)

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Ready? Is this on? Test...test...Okay. I think I'm ready...

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Hi, you wonderful Bloggees -- I must begin by thanking you all! I know that many of you have been literally sitting on your hands to keep them from pouncing on your keyboards and typing me pesky messages like, "Hey, Kate -- Why haven't you posted anything new lately? What's the matter? Are you mad at us? Can't you even draw us a silly picture or something? How about one of your dumb (and not real, because if they were real, they'd all be about nature) haikus? Oh, where are you, Kate?!"

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No -- Although it's been more than a week now since I've posted anything, incredibly, I've had to put up with none of that! As a matter of fact, it almost seems as if no one's even missed me -- or noticed that I've been missing...Ah, do you see why I love you so much, you dear, considerate Bloggees? Well, repress no more -- I'm back, and I can explain!

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I suppose it was my own doing, getting my blog all clogged like that...

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It started just before Christmas when I realized I had published something like 87 posts, and that if I really worked at it, occasionally posting more than once a day, I might actually time it so that my 100th post would coincide with New Year's Eve. Now that would be something to celebrate -- at least in my mind -- and remember -- this is my mind, so to speak...

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(You do remember my blog-as-outlet-mall-for-my-brain analogy, don't you? Or as I now prefer to think of it -- a flea market for my brain -- cheaper, and not as well organized as an actual outlet mall!)

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Well, so I immediately began letting visions of blog ideas dance in my head (in keeping with the season, you know). Naturally (still my mind -- remember!) that led to some sort of circuit-busting overload, and I had to give up on my Bowlofchairies New Year's Eve/100th Post Party idea. But that 100th post still loomed. Eventually I'd have to come up with something momentous, wouldn't I?

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And that, as we now know, is how a blog gets clogged!

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But wait! Does it really have to be something momentous? Couldn't I just mark my 100th post by doing something trifling (not that I've had any actual experience with trifling blog entries, of course, but still...)

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All I need is to begin...

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And that's all the jogging that was necessary -- Voila! An unclogged blog!

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Anyway, since I began this whole thing 100 posts ago, I have learned some things about blogging. Someday soon I'll do a post apologizing for (as well as rationalizing, of course,) all of those embarrassing faux pas (Is there a plural for that -- someone post a comment, please!) I have unwittingly made -- one of which involves the length of my posts!

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But for now I am, throwing caution to the wind and risking making this just one mid-sized paragraph too long so I can tell you about the wonderful Christmas gift I got from my son: It's a simply gorgeous publication called "Artful Blogging: Visually Inspiring Online Journals. Oh, the things I have learned! For instance, it turns out that this little flea market blog of mine is actually one big fat mess (kind of like my face on prednisone)! In fact, I don't deserve to have even two or three million of you hanging around to read this gobbledegook! (But you really are the best daughter and sisters a blogger could ever want, you know!)

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But wait -- before I let you I go, there's just one more thing I'd like to share with you...I like to think of this as sort of a reward for all of your blog-reading tenacity; however, you may consider it just one more thing I've come up with so I can avoid actually being productive, yet still look like I'm doing something...

Kate at Grandpa & Grandma Borg's house, Garden City, Michigan, circa 1956 (?) Note: The German Shepherd terrorizing the child with the large head (yes, I mean the girl, not the dog) is Sabrina -- probably the gentlest dog of her size that ever lived!

1/9 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

l-r: Julie, Leslie, Kate, Hilda, Carol; Reidsville, NC , 12/6/08, by the unknown photographer from Minnesota. (Sorry, Helen -- you missed a great lunch!)

...If today is your birthday, you're the cute one on the end wearing a hoodie.

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...If today is your birthday, you're one of the reasons -- one of five reasons for me -- that doing things with the Moa Boas is so much fun! Actually, you make everything sound like it might be fun -- and then it usually is -- that's your gift!

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...If today is your birthday, like all of the other MB's, we met playing tennis -- except for you and Leslie, who already knew each other through scouts, or school or something. It was Leslie who first brought you to Hamilton Lakes to play, and we're so glad she did -- Thanks for sharing, Leslie!

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...If today is your birthday, it was you who taught me that Craisins are a delicious addition to a salad. In fact, it was you who taught me that salad is a delicious part of the meal -- Before I met you, I just ate salad because I thought it was the right thing to do!

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...If today is your birthday, your house is my very favorite tribute to country living in the state of North Carolina (or any other state I've ever been in). I mean it! You have such a gift for finding and using things you love to make your home a haven of warmth and comfort -- and that's a reflection of you!

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...If today is your birthday, I hope you have a wonderful day filled with all the things you love -- maybe even some craisins covered in dark chocolate -- oh, and cake!

Happy Birthday, Carol!

Have a fabulous day!

1/7 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

Tara and Kim, Nov. 2008, by Greg. Note: In eliminating the red-eye from this photo, I managed to turn Tara's beautiful blue eyes brown -- Don't know how to remedy that, but trust me -- she's even prettier with blue eyes!

...If today is your birthday, you are 18 -- Poof! Just like that! (That has to be how it happened, because there's no way that 18 years can have passed since I came and stayed with your mom for a week when she first brought you home! That was only like three or four years ago, wasn't it?)

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...Oh, wait -- If today is your birthday, it probably just seems like a few years to me, since I don't get to see you very often... I guess you probably feel like you've packed 18 years of Life into that relatively short period of time, don't you?

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...If today is your birthday, you are -- and always have been --incredibly cute/adorable/beautiful. We have plenty of pictures as evidence. Talented, too -- The various dance-costume pictures will attest to that. (Plus, I can remember you and your cousins -- including Dj and Brad -- dancing to the Spice Girls on a visit to Michigan when you were about six or seven. Oh yes...definitely talented!)

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...If today is your birthday, I can remember holding you as an infant and marveling at how amazing you were. I can remember going with you and your mom for your first doctor's appointment on the day I was leaving to come home. I remember being anxious to get back to my own family, but feeling so sad that I had to leave such a magical thing as a new baby behind. I knew that the next time I saw you, you would have changed in so many ways. But you know what? The changes have all been magical, too. You still have the same sparkle that you had as an infant.

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...If today is your birthday, I am wishing that your life will be all that you can dream -- that we will always be close enough to see what comes your way!

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Happy 18th Birthday, Tara!

It's Official -- I'm Old!

"Old Kate," Nov. 2002 (by Greg)

Haven't you read -- or heard -- about how the grocery store is a good place for singles to meet? Well, for whatever reason, that thought must have been stirring deep within the recesses of my mind last night as I offered my place in line to the gentleman with only one item behind me. Oh, I don't mean I was thinking, hey, he's kind of cute, or anything like that. In fact, at that point I was simply thinking that it would be nice for me to let him go first. Now I'm just searching for something to explain why, a few minutes later, I thought to be sure that my wedding ring was visible -- like I thought he might be hitting on me or something...

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When I offered to let him front me, he said, "Oh, no -- that's okay." When I asked if he was sure, he laughed and said, "Hey, this gets me out of the house for a while!" I laughed back, and told him to enjoy himself then.

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So standing there, he looked at my basket and asked if those Fiber One bars were any good. I told him that they actually were, and that they did have nine grams of dietary fiber (!) per serving -- that's more than a serving of the Shredded Wheat 'n Bran that was also in my basket. He assured me that he had checked the nutritional value of the bars already -- he just wondered if they tasted good. His wife had told him that the bran muffins he made for her tasted like cardboard.

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I rest my case. When you have a conversation about the fiber content of your groceries, you're old, right?

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Oh -- and P.S. -- I'm fat now, too...

Nah -- just kidding (sort of)! I had Karen "enhance" this picture she took of me in Ohio so she could show my other sisters what prednisone was doing to me. If I have to stay on it much longer, this may become a reality. For now, though, I just look like I've had a helium injection. (Please note, though, that this photo does bear evidence of my cowboy-boot mishap at work on Christmas Eve!)

The Best Christmas Book Ever!

"The Stockings Were Hung..." 2008, by Greg

Bloggees -- you have got to read this book! Oh -- wait. That sounds bossy, doesn't it? I'm sorry...

Bloggees, I have just read the most wonderful book...well, one of the most wonderful books. Actually, I've been fortunate lately -- Seems everything I'm reading is these days is wonderful!

Let me start over -- by thanking my sister, Melissa, for her gift and recommendation for Advent -- Jan Karon's "Shepherds Abiding" (from her Mitford Series). Everything Missy said was true -- The book worked wonders toward setting the proper mood for the season of waiting. I tried to take a little bit of time every day to just sit and read about Father Tim and his efforts to refurbish an antique Nativity set that had at first seemed beyond repair. After just a few minutes spent getting into the story, I could feel all sense of hurry-hurry-hurry slip away as I imagined myself in Mitford, dealing with the cold and snow, the quirky personalities of its residents -- and most of all, the calming effect Father Tim has on everyone around him. Thanks Missy!

However, that's not the book I'm recommending here...

In these days after Christmas, as the after-the-party let down starts to seep in -- you might need a little something to keep your spirits up. May I recommend "The Shepherd, the Angel, and Walter the Christmas Miracle Dog" by Dave Barry? It claims to be a work of fiction, but it reads just like a poignant (but hilarious) memoir of a Christmas remembered from the 1960's. The photographs throughout the short book -- I believe the entire thing could be read in about an hour -- only add to its feeling of authenticity. It made me laugh, it made me cry, and it made me want to keep making my husband stop what he was doing and listen to me read exerpts aloud. (Which made him want to read the book himself, which I consider a noteworthy accomplishment!)

Please read this book. It was written in 2006, and I don't know if it's out in paperback, or if you'll find it on bargain tables...I got my copy from the library, or I'd send it around to each and everyone of you! If you're anywhere near my age, you will be delighted at the number of things that will tweak your personal memory bank. But even if you're a generation or two younger, you won't be able to resist this family -- the kids, the parents, the pets -- especially the pets!

Happy reading -- I hope I'm not wrong about this, Bloggees!

The Anniversary Blog (1/4/09)

Thomas Nelson Karlek

Sept. 23, 1929 - Jan. 4, 2008

My Dad, Lake Shannon, MI, Summer 2005, by Karen Branson

A few weeks ago, I posted a "guest blog" from a collection of readings for Advent. Today, exactly one year since my Dad died, I am going to include another brief quote from that same book ("Watch for the Light...").

This one is from John Donne, and in the book, it is the reading for January 3. Last year, January 4 was on a Friday -- the First Friday of the month. There is a Catholic devotion of receiving Holy Communion on First Friday. Attending daily Mass and receiving Communion was something my Dad did regularly, along with his wife, Betty. They had both attended Mass on that Friday morning, and then joined friends in walking around the indoor track that was part of the church property. Immediately upon finishing his walk, as he stopped to stretch, God simply took my father to be with Him. There's no other way I can describe it, and I find comfort and validation in Donne's words...

"Who can fear the darkness of death that has had the light of this world and of the next too? Who can fear death this night that has had the Lord of life in his hand today?...This then is truly to depart in peace by the Gospel of peace to the God of peace."

I miss my dad so much. I will never forget how it felt to hear my sister say the words over the phone a year ago -- "Dad died." I immediately dropped to my knees, sobbing. But just as immediately, I knew that he was with me -- closer than he'd ever been before. When he died, his reality moved from the outside to the inside, where it remains. It's easier to talk to him now, and easier to hear him, too. I still cry often, but I can only feel joy when I realize that Dad truly was not afraid of dying because of the nature of his friendship with Jesus. He was more afraid of what he would have to lose if he stayed in this life. I don't think he ever had any doubt that he would gain everything when he moved on to the next life.

Not that he didn't love his life here! He was always able to find the joy and relish the moment -- again, his relationship with Jesus. I can honestly say that my dad, although far from perfect (God bless him!), modeled for us a life lived with Heaven as its goal. And it feels good to know that he's achieved it.

Thanks to the talent and generosity of my sister, Karen, and my sister-in-law, Kris, there are about 3 million photographs of my dad that have been taken over the years -- including the ones from his childhood have been carefully preserved. I can see his face any time I desire, thanks to a wonderful collection of scrapbooks and the slideshow that they prepared for his funeral. So of course I always have an image of him on my heart...

I remember that shortly after we'd returned home from his funeral, I received a very clear image of Dad landing on his butt right outside Heaven's Gate. He realized where he was, of course, but was not quite sure how he'd arrived. Naturally he was pleased -- make that thrilled -- yet he was concerned about us. Dad was never good at making decisions. I know he would never intentionally second-guess God's plan, but if given a choice in the matter, I'm sure he probably would have said something like, "Well, yeah -- sure I wanna go! But what about those guys? Can I just go back and let 'em know it's time?"

Dad at Hasselbad, TN, Autumn 2001, by Karen Branson

That's ok, Dad. We know. We'll always miss you. We're still finding new ways to recognize what a truly wonderful Dad you were. We have so many memories to treaure. And we still have you in our hearts -- forever.

Happy Anniversary. Give Mom our love.

No Year's Resolutions

Photo of house lit up for Christmas taken by Tom Karlek on an early-morning walk in the snow. (Date unknown.)

1. This year there will be No Year's Resolution about getting and/or staying "organized" -- whatever that term means to you. (To me, it means having a place for everything, having everything in its place -- and being able to remember where that place is!) I've made that resolution. In fact, I've made it every single year since I've known that people make New Year's resolutions. I have found that it only works for about an hour and a half every morning. (It depends on what time I take my ADD medication.)

My passion for organizing can only last until I find something else to focus on. You know -- like while I'm trying to get all the tax stuff together in one file, I might come across some photographs I've saved so I can make clever greetings cards from them. So then I have to search for my stash of stickers and card stock. In the process, of course, I find dozens -- perhaps even millions -- of nifty little craft items shoved into a cupboard, just waiting for the perfect occasion unleash my creative genius -- hey, why not now.....?!!!

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2. There will also be No Year's Resolution in 2009 about trying to do only one thing at a time. I keep reading about how multi-tasking -- which is the one skill I have come closest to perfecting -- is not necessarily a desirable skill to have. Hence, the nagging sense that perhaps I should try to focus a bit more on doing only one thing at a time. But wait! How do they know? What if doing just one thing at a time -- even something one truly enjoys -- can cause one to be so overcome by languor that one just shuts down and decides to take a nap? How desirable is that?

I say that for some of us, multi-tasking is a necessary survival skill -- one we should work harder at mastering! There is no limit, people! I've seen glimpses of a paradise where one can write a novel, knit a sweater, create a fabulous outfit from recycled denim and old sweaters -- and load the dishwasher -- all at the same time!

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3. 2009 will see No Year's Resolution about becoming a better listener -- even though that was practically my mother's dying wish for me. Hey -- it's not carved in stone that that was her last wish, ok? She told me "You should listen the first time," almost an entire week before she died. I prefer to think that her final -- albeit unspoken -- wish for me was that I should find it in my heart to do nice things for people because I truly care; that I would learn to trust my instincts about what to do, because even if I did listen to what they were saying, I would probably forget within the hour anyway.

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4. There will be No Year's Resolution this year about not yelling at my family so much. Because I DON'T yell at them that much -- They just say that I do! That's because we're all so used to pushing each other's buttons, and then reacting to the response we expect to get, that we no longer even pay attention to what's really happening...

For example: My son has done something he knows is dumb -- like telling me over the phone that, yes, he did bring in the the mail, knowing full well that he hasn't -- and then forgetting to go out and get it immediately after hanging up the phone. A couple of hours later, when, upon returning home from a weekend trip, I go out to the mailbox and find said mail, he no sooner sees that my mouth is open -- before even the faintest sound has been emitted -- and he says "Stop yelling at me!" So then, of course, I have to yell at him, resolutions be damned!

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5. Finally, there shall be No Year's Resolution this year about setting and meeting goals for healthy living, productivity, and/or prosperity. I found out this past year that -- especially with regard to health -- I'm really not in charge anyway. So why not just trust everything to the One who is in charge? That way, I may be able to keep a resolution not to worry so much. Trust, when it can be accomplished, feels so much better than worry!

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So here's to trusting 2009 to God, and asking Him to constantly show me which way He wants me to turn -- which path to take, what words to say, what I should do -- always! (Amen.)

Oh -- Happy New Year, Bloggees!