tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5394215082801918712024-03-05T03:54:07.184-05:00Brewed In LoveA special blend of stories, recipes, adventures to nourish your body and soul, from my heart to yours.maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-42563914001528492132020-12-26T15:34:00.003-05:002020-12-26T16:41:36.624-05:00A 2020 Christmas Story<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">To say 2020 has been challenging is the understatement of the year. This year, our lives basically came to a standstill in March. What is that old saying? “March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.” Well, March did come roaring in, and we are still waiting for it, in December, to go out like a lamb. Still feels like it’s roaring to me!</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-8e14590b-7fff-7832-48a6-4a8c19e1349e"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because of Derek’s compromised immune system, we have had to keep him home basically in quarantine. I think since March, he’s been at a doctor’s office once; for bloodwork 3 times, and in Target twice, Publix once, and a quick in/out at church to wave to staff. That’s it. He’s gone out on an endless number of car drives, played outside, walks at a park or down the street. Only one person, a friend who helped Bob lay a new floor in Derek’s room, has been the only other person inside our home besides us since March.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thankfully, Zoom came along and opened up his world a little bit. He’s been happy to see people through the computer screen. We even had a Zoom birthday party for him in November! What I’m truly thankful for, is that Derek is happy. He wakes up happy; goes to sleep happy. He enjoys each day to the fullest. He is happy doing the same things everyday. He wakes up knowing today is a new day, and does everything with great zeal and full force. He doesn’t know about the state of the world, or even that Covid exists. Even though it has completely changed his world. It doesn’t matter. He lives, loves, plays, laughs, like nothing has changed. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And then there’s me. At this point, I am going to be completely transparent. I have NOT handled the situation Covid has thrown us into gracefully. In the beginning, I thought, OK; we got this!. Derek used to go to an adult day care facility 5 days a week, from 7 am until 5 pm. And then he was home 24/7. It’s been 10 months now. He’s a LOT of kid to manage! From keeping him busy, to changing of his pullups every 2 hours; meals/snacks/fluids; meds; and enemas which have thankfully kept him out of the hospital this year -it has been an experience to say the least. Then along came the sadness. Sadness from missing people. Sadness from missing Brooke, Christian and Harper. Sadness from the ability to travel to see them taken away. Sadness from missing the life we had. Just...sadness. And then came the anger. I was angry at the circumstances; angry because people seemed to be moving on, as months passed by; acting like Covid doesn’t exist. Even angry because we didn’t have the luxury of taking risks others were taking. For us, a risk could pose the threat of an illness Derek may not survive should he get it. Even for myself, as his main caregiver - to put myself at risk would be just as bad. But watching others move forward is difficult for me to deal with. Especially when those moving forward seem to forget, or seem to exclude, those they’re leaving behind who are still not able to participate in what seems to be a “pre-Covid” life. Yes, envy is a sin; however, I am terribly envious of everyone who could spend the holidays with their families; their kids, grandkids. Not being able to do this truly felt like it was breaking my heart. Which brings me to the end of 2020. Breaking hearts.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Along comes December. A December I would rather end up not remembering. Bob and I had made tentative plans to travel to Iowa for Christmas, traveling on Christmas Day. Derek would stay behind with Lisa, and we were going to celebrate Christmas early in our house. I knew it was tentative; as we were going to just have to wait and see. The first weekend in December found me in the ER, as it seemed I was experiencing symptoms which mimicked a heart attack: chest pain/pressure; left arm numbness, and left hand tingling; lightheadedness. I didn’t feel well. Initial testing in the ER revealed all cardiac enzymes were fine, as was the EKG. But with the symptoms, it was determined I should be admitted. The last place I wanted to be in the middle of a pandemic: a hospital. I spent one night there, and was released the next day with the promise I would see a cardiologist to get further testing done. The symptoms persisted, and I made the cardiology appointment. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then I get a phone call from the dermatology office. I had my 6 month appointment the week before. This call proceeds to inform me I have yet another melanoma, this time on my back. I’ve had two previous melanoma removals on my abdomen. This surgery was scheduled for the following week. Surgery went well, and I was to wait for results to tell me the margins were clear on what was removed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, the following week, the week of Christmas, we knew we weren’t able to travel to Iowa for Christmas, so I made the difficult call to the airlines to postpone our trip. The next day, I went for an echocardiogram, and then a stress test, just a few days before Christmas. I had gotten on my treadmill at home about 4 days before my appointment, and couldn’t do more than 5 minutes before the tingling in my hand began, chest was tight, and I became lightheaded. So I was very, very nervous for the test at the doctor’s office. I did successfully get through both tests, and waited for the results just 2 days before Christmas. When the doctor finally called, I could barely stand to hear what he had to say; but his words, “your heart looks good!” were music to my ears! He suggested seeing a GI doctor, as sometimes GI symptoms mimic heart attack symptoms. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christmas Eve arrives, as does a phone call from the dermatology office informing me of clear margins on the removal of the melanoma. Good news, again! So, now I’m on track for Christmas Eve preparation of food for the evening and for Christmas Day. Even though it was just Bob, Derek, Lisa and myself, I was full steam ahead for some delicious dishes for us. We had planned on doing a lot of video chatting on Christmas Day with Brooke, Ryan and the kids.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then, 2020 just wouldn’t quit: I came down with food poisoning! Apparently the spinach dip I had in the afternoon, which no one else ate, did me in. This was just the last straw to the December I did not want to remember!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So it was left to Bob to prepare the prime rib, and in between visits to the bathroom, I read off the recipe to him. But I ended up in our bedroom, under the blankets, with vicks rubbed into my nostrils, and even toilet paper stuffed up my nose because the smell of the roast was making me so very nauseous. And it was there, not being able to take one more thing, I cried out to God. And my God, my ever gracious, loving, Father, heard my cries. He heard the cries of a daughter who needed him, whose heart was truly broken. Broken from sadness, from anger; from grief of losing time with her loved ones, grief with now being physically sick on Christmas Eve; come on! Heart issues; melanoma; food poisoning….how much more, Lord??!! His daughter needed a Christmas miracle. And He heard me. And He granted me favor, granted me that miracle. The sickness passed away, and I was able to sleep through the night. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I woke up feeling well, ready to face Christmas Day. And it was a glorious day! We watched Brooke, Ryan, Christian and Harper on video and we all opened gifts together. Derek was filled with joy at the golf cart we were able to get for him; which truly was a gift from God to Derek (unexpected windfall of money to Derek!); and our hearts were lifted even higher watching the joy it brought him! We had dinner together with Brooke, Ryan and the kids, with the computer on the table which made it seem as if they were just at the other end of our table. We gave thanks to God, for all the blessings he has given us, with the greatest gift being Jesus. We had full hearts, full tummies, and joy; which would not have been possible without a Christmas miracle. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This year hasn't been all doom and gloom. We are all healthy; we have peace & love in our home; Bob is able to work completely from home; we have friends and family who keep us close to their hearts. We've definitely had our share of ups, as well as downs. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wasn’t the Christmas I was hoping for, but it was the Christmas it was supposed to be; maybe even more. A December to remember, after all. </span></p><br /></span>maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-70092892378760121822015-04-17T09:13:00.002-04:002017-08-20T07:21:54.685-04:00A Real-Live Pinocchio<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Once upon a time, there was a puppet
who was brought to life by a blue fairy. She informs him that he can
become a "real boy" if he proves himself to be "brave,
truthful, and unselfish". This puppet's name was Pinocchio. This
is a FICTIONAL story.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
Once upon a time, there was a "real
boy" who came to life when he was given a second gift of life. Upon birth, this little boy existed to be probed, stuck with needles,
attached to tubes and machines, and basically given a death sentence
(according to the doctors). He was not expected to live. He
didn't have a blue fairy to save him. But he DID have a Heavenly
Father who created him, cared for him, who never left his side
through all the trials, and who saved him even though he was not
brave (he did not choose this) or unselfish (babies are selfish!). It was the grace of God that
saved him. God gave him a "second birth", with the gift of
a new kidney from his mom. That was the day this "real boy"
actually came to life. That day was 30 years ago today. This is
a TRUE story.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have so many emotions when I look
back at this day. And remember exactly just like it was yesterday. I
remember seeing my son being wheeled away to the Operating Room,
wondering if this really could be the answer. We had spent over 250
days in the hospital in Derek's first 16 months of life. He had over
9 operations. He was "expected" to die more times than I
even care to count. Yet, here we were, being placed into adjoining
operating rooms, where doctors would take my kidney and walk it into
his operating room and place it into his little body. Doctors said as
soon as the "connection was complete", he passed urine
right there on the table before they even closed him up. My kidney
was an almost perfect match for him!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
I will never forget what it was
like to see him for the first time after the operation. This would be
the first time I had seen him since he was five months old where he
wasn't attached to any machines. The last time I saw him, his skin
had been a dull gray, lifeless color. His eyes were cloudy, dim. As I
walked into his room, I saw him in the crib. He turned to look at me,
and I saw red, rosy cheeks. And his eyes. His eyes just
sparkled. Like I had never seen them. He was alive! And from that
point on, there was no turning back for Derek!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
Derek has a zest for life like
I've never seen. He lives his life with all the fervor and excitement
like he knows what he had been missing. Life is to be lived, fully,
and that's what Derek does. He proves that life is precious to
everyone!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
Happy anniversary to my sweet boy,
my eternal toddler. Mommy loves you more than you could ever know.
But not nearly as much as your Heavenly Father does. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvCBvcUInScwW4efEYZMKPwwN8eIsfuuqh02KW0BowZCv5yfQAXh48yn8Dlae2FoM6cqiYcvdPu2_LTyMKyA-HmLuRjYaAV-USAZUhIr2LFQF5uJ6FZd5_-SWbE4txrFrARgKUr9lI2c1/s1600/20150417_081221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvCBvcUInScwW4efEYZMKPwwN8eIsfuuqh02KW0BowZCv5yfQAXh48yn8Dlae2FoM6cqiYcvdPu2_LTyMKyA-HmLuRjYaAV-USAZUhIr2LFQF5uJ6FZd5_-SWbE4txrFrARgKUr9lI2c1/s1600/20150417_081221.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going home, 10 days after transplant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfmF4vpzKbznWbv0kIkgI2XspYpzvi3QjOAz6pGMLrd6B32o68ZjtMONTDdWxuWgLINEt8ZaJnSN-zQwUn1lAGtkPea6rcqpzKsDFJnSrXUU58feL0WFIj_2ugba8nszJVXs5SMUVKg_z/s1600/20150417_081318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfmF4vpzKbznWbv0kIkgI2XspYpzvi3QjOAz6pGMLrd6B32o68ZjtMONTDdWxuWgLINEt8ZaJnSN-zQwUn1lAGtkPea6rcqpzKsDFJnSrXUU58feL0WFIj_2ugba8nszJVXs5SMUVKg_z/s1600/20150417_081318.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before transplant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-33382739305655270952014-12-15T08:51:00.000-05:002014-12-15T08:51:02.598-05:00'Tis the Season"Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la." We all go through seasons in life. We have our ups, our downs. The Christmas season is typically an "up" season; we hear all the songs telling us "it's the most wonderful time of the year", or as stated above, "tis the season to be jolly".<br />
<br />
But for some, it's not such a wonderful time of the year. Maybe it dredges up old memories that are not so pleasant. Maybe it's a more lonely time of the year for some people who don't have family members or friends to enjoy the season with. There are many who can't afford a decent Christmas dinner for their family, or cannot buy the presents they would like to for their kids. All the happiness surrounding them during the month of December seems to grate on their last nerve.<br />
<br />
This year, I'm struggling to not be one of those people. I've always loved the Christmas season; from the decorating of my home, to the delicious goodies just waiting to be baked and eaten to the visits from family and friends, and of course, the gift giving. I love watching my family open their gifts. It's always been one of my favorite holidays. But this year, I have to watch my mom as she enters the end-of-life struggle. Mom has lived with us for about 9 years, and during the last four years the despicable disease of Alzheimer's reared its ugly head and invaded our lives.<br />
<br />
Mom has fought this disease with every inch of her being. She's a tiny woman, with a mighty strength. She wasn't going to give in without a fight. I could go on and on about how I despise this disease, but I won't. Just know I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy.<br />
<br />
Mom took a turn for the worse a few days ago, and her body is shutting down. To watch her struggle for every breath is torture for me, never mind for her.<br />
<br />
I'm in a very strange place right now. I don't want my mother to go. But the shell of the person she was is all that's left. But I can't grieve for her, as she's still "here". I take care of her, but the best I can do is make her "comfortable". I take care of her knowing she can't be saved, there is no hope of that. I've been a caregiver for the last 31 years, making sure my son Derek stays well with all his medical issues. So this situation is extremely difficult for me.<br />
<br />
What keeps me going is knowing the real reason for Christmas: the birth of Christ. God sent His only son to the earth to become a man, to walk among us; with the intention of Him dying on the cross for all of our sins. For you and for me, so we spend eternity with Him. What a gift He has given us! This is what keeps me from letting the dark cloud of grief completely overwhelm me. This, and knowing that Christ is walking with me through this valley. I have His word on that: Deuteronomy 31:6<i> Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”</i><br />
<br />
So, I am clinging to the promises of God; I am thankful for each one of you who have offered love, prayers and support; thankful I've had my mother for 86 years; thankful she is able to be in her own home as she prepares for her next journey; and thankful most of all for Jesus, the real reason for the season!<br />
<br />
<i>Blessings,</i><br />
<i>Karen</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-34734326450661549882014-02-03T20:31:00.000-05:002014-02-03T20:31:53.510-05:00Ignorance is BlissThree weeks ago I was in a doctor's office with my son, waiting to receive results from an MRI that he had done the previous week. I never saw it coming, the "punch in the gut" news that fell on my ears. The news that told me my son's hip bones were dying due to a lack of blood supply that is a result of 29 years of steroid use. These same steroids helped save my son's life 29 years ago, as they are a mandatory drug that he has to take to keep the kidney that was transplanted into his body when he was 16 months old. Ironic, wouldn't you say?<br />
<br />
Derek was the youngest kidney transplant recipient that the University of Miami had performed back in 1985. I was an almost perfect match for him, so they removed my right kidney and put it into his tiny body. He came to life that day, and has never looked back.<br />
<br />
Derek is a force to be reckoned with. He is full of life, full of love, and the happiest person I have ever known. He loves with every bit of his being, and experiences life like someone who knows what it's like to be given a second chance at living. He just turned 30 in November, but he will always be my special needs "eternal toddler", acting like a 4 year old most of the time.<br />
<br />
Derek is also deaf, and I grieved when he was diagnosed at 2 years old. Grieved because he would never hear my voice. Because he would never hear beautiful things like the birds singing, music, laughter, and a gazillion other things. But I believe one of the main reasons Derek has lived these 30 years is BECAUSE he never heard the negativity associated with his condition. He didn't hear the doctors say he was not expected to live, not expected to walk, not expected to....countless other things. God had bigger plans for Derek, and the doctors were proved wrong.<br />
<br />
I have given this much thought since hearing the current diagnosis. Derek doesn't know what's coming. I wish I didn't. Ignorance IS bliss. He just knows he is in pain, but doesn't know why. Doesn't know that at some point his hips will just disintegrate. Doesn't know he isn't a candidate for a hip replacement. Doesn't know the only thing we can do is treat the symptoms, treat the pain. Doesn't know, at some point, he will not be ambulatory any more. Derek just keeps plowing through the pain. Living life the only way he knows how. How thankful I am for his not knowing.<br />
<br />
I know so many things after living with Derek these 30 years. I know how precious life is. I know no one knows the future. I know God has a plan. I also know I need to trust God. I know I shouldn't be looking at all the "what if's". I know I need the strength only He can provide because I certainly can't do this on my own. I know all these things.....but getting from here to there, well, I haven't done that yet. It's a journey, another storm to weather; and of all the storms I've made it through, I'm finding this one pretty tough.What I DON'T know is how to face this diagnosis with just a plan of treating the symptoms. I don't know how to face watching my son suffer so much pain. This mother's heart might surely break into pieces watching this happen, watching the life that he knows fade away.<br />
<br />
God doesn't spare us from the storms; but He does promise He will be with us in and through them. He has never let me down, nor will He. I'm trying to move forward, to get stronger. I'm diving into my Bible, into my daily devotion book that has helped me through countless other impossible situations by leading me to the source of strength, God. The tears come without a moment's notice, lots of them; sometimes I feel like I can't even breathe.<br />
<br />
Just yesterday, I asked my dear sweet husband, "and what do you do when you just can't stand another minute?" His answer: "Fall to your knees."<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
I think I may need to get some knee pads.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-20518111579869415492013-02-25T16:06:00.003-05:002013-02-25T16:06:38.038-05:00Uh-Oh!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Two years ago today, I had thyroid
surgery to remove the remaining portion of my thyroid due to the
growth of large nodules. There were no complications when I had the
first surgery three years prior to this. I had no reason to think
things would be any different this time. However, this was not the
case.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The main risk of having this type of
surgery is paralysis of the vocal cords, as the thyroid gland pretty
much sits on top of the cords. During surgery, alarms are placed on
the cords that go off if the surgeon even gets close to them. I
remember waking up in the recovery room afterward, with the surgeon
by my bedside, prompting me to talk to him immediately upon waking.
When I spoke a few words, he became so relieved, as he then proceeded
to tell me that there had been a nodule that was stuck in my left
vocal cord and he had had to touch the cord to get the nodule out. He
had been so worried that my cord would be paralyzed. Upon hearing my
voice, he pretty much said, “Phew! If you're talking now, you
should be fine! Three days later, my voice started to go hoarse, and
then basically disappeared.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I waited a few days and with no
improvement, went to see the surgeon. He walked into the examining
room and said hello, and with my “hello”, stopped in his tracks.
He put a scope down my nose and looked at the cords, but he already
knew the outcome. My left vocal cord was paralyzed, just as he had
feared from the beginning. I had a voice for those three days only
because of the swelling from the surgery, which allowed the cords to
touch, hence giving me a voice. Once the swelling went down, the left
cord moved away from the right side and since they no longer touched
when I talked, I no longer had much of a voice. He tried to be a bit
nonchalant as he continued to talk to me, telling me that he has seen
people recover from this situation, but it could take all the way up
to a year. And he then said, “And sometimes the cord remains
paralyzed. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.” I sat
there, and even if I could speak out loud, I wouldn't have known what
to say. So, stunned silence it was. I left the office in tears, and
just couldn't grasp the fact that I no longer had a voice. And for
how long??
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All I basically had was a whisper. No
one could hear me unless I was standing right next to them and even
with that, you really had to listen. There was no talking on the
phone, no going through any drive-thru's; no conversations. Over the
next few weeks, I became so frustrated, so angry. To make things
worse, my mother (who lives with us) was already hard of hearing, and
with my “new” voice, she couldn't hear anything I said. The only
person it made no difference to was Derek, my son. He was deaf and
communicates with basic sign language. People would try to make me
feel better and say, “Well at least you know sign language and can
still communicate!” Well, guess what? Most people DON”T KNOW sign
language! If we went to a restaurant, I had to have someone else
order for me. In a crowd of people, I felt alone, isolated. In the
evenings, I would crave conversation with Bob, but he wouldn't even
allow me to try to talk for fear of making it worse. He found me a
little device, an amplifier that had a headpiece with a microphone
attached, that we bought online and it actually helped a little bit.
I would wear it around my waist, with my headpiece on and the mic
right in front of my mouth. I could control the volume and could turn
it up or down as much as I needed. So this amplified my whisper of a
voice and made things a little better. I felt like a tour guide at
Disney World. Except my world was not the happiest place on earth!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Six months after the
surgery, there was still no improvement. The surgeon recommended that I go
have a procedure done that would give me back my voice. He
made it sound like no big deal, so I scheduled it and became excited
thinking I would finally be able to talk again! Well, it didn't take
long for that experience to become a nightmare for me as well. This
is what was supposed to happen: a scope would be placed through my
nose with a camera on the end so the doctor could see the vocal
cords; then a needle would be inserted into my neck, where an
injection of a collagen-type substance would be placed next to the
left vocal cord, which would then push the cord over to meet the
right vocal cord and upon them touching, voila! I would have a voice.
That's basically how my doctor explained it. So, the doctor came into
the room, and it seems he forgot to bring his good bedside manner. He
picked up a needle of anesthesia,stuck it into my neck to numb the area, and as soon as he finished with
that injection, he turned around and picked up the other LARGE needle
and proceeded to plunge it into my neck before waiting for the
anesthetic to take effect. All the while, I had a scope down my nose
while I was sitting on the table with a needle in my neck, and he's
saying “Don't move!” and I'm just sitting there wanting to scream
from the pain and kick him where it hurts. So, he finally removes the
needle from my neck, and the scope from my nose, and I sit there and
half a minute later, everything goes dim and the room starts to spin.
Yep, I was passing out! And do you know what that doctor did? He
comes over, looks at me and says, “oh, she's just having a
vaso-vagal attack”, turns his back and walks out the door. He left
the other doctor and nurse in the room with me, and he never even
came back to see how I was!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Not only was this procedure a nightmare, it also didn't work like
it was supposed. I did have more of a voice, but it was a
hoarse voice. It sounded like I was sick with a bad cold. Now people
would say, “oh boy, you sound terrible! I guess you got that
sickness that's going around! Feel better!” I got tired of trying
to explain, so I would just say, “yeah, thanks.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Right around the one-year anniversary
of the surgery, my voice started to sound like my own again. I had a
follow-up visit with my surgeon, who was happy to hear my voice. I
knew it had finally healed and as he scoped me, he got very quiet. He
then told me the cord was still paralyzed. Apparently I was
only speaking because of the procedure. At this point, I knew I had
to let go of worrying about my voice. It is what it is, and at least
for now, I sound like my old self.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, what did this experience teach me?
What did I gain during this fiery trial? Let me tell you, I did have
it out with God quite a few times during that year. I cried a
countless amount of tears; my frustration level hit all time highs.
My anger sometimes got the best of me. But all the while, God showed
me He was with me. He let me yell, let me rant and rave. And still He
loved me. He used His people to minister to me. Friends, family,
church family. I bet many of them don't even know how He used them.
That they were instruments in showing me that I could get through
this. That He didn't forsake me. And most of all, I thank my husband and my
daughter. They were my strongholds when I couldn't stand any more.
When I couldn't take one more minute of frustration and anger. I
thank God for everyone who helped me survive this ordeal.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't know how long my voice will
last. The collagen substance isn't a permanent fix. But it doesn't
matter. What matters is that I'm talking. I have a voice, for now at
least. There's no point in giving any more thought on the matter.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will say this: appreciate your voice.
Like all things we have in our lives: we don't miss something until
it's gone. You might be wondering what does “Uh Oh” have to do
with anything? Well, if you can say uh-oh, its only because your
vocal cords are working. I had speech therapy at first, and the
therapist tried to get me to say uh-oh. And I couldn't do it. And
boy, did I want to say it!! So, one of the first things I spoke out
loud after that terrible injection, was “uh-oh”. And what a
beautiful,hoarse sound it was. Go ahead, say it. And appreciate the sound of
your voice today!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-73535487330263245492013-02-09T11:55:00.001-05:002013-02-09T11:55:34.145-05:00Superbowl Horror<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last Saturday, I had a wonderful
excursion on the motorcycle with Bob and a group of friends. It was a
day that helped me breathe freely again, refreshed my spirit, and I
thoroughly enjoyed it. With the help of Derek's dad Joe, who took
Derek for the day and overnight, and Brooke, who came to the house to
stay with mom, I was able to be free. At least for a little while.
And it did a world of good for me. I've even heard people say how
relaxed and “good” I looked Sunday morning at church. Hmmm, I
wonder what I “normally” look like?? I guess sometimes I feel
like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, and there are some
days I'm really dragging. But just one afternoon out in the fresh air
and with friends helped bring me back to the surface again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was Superbowl Sunday. After church,
I was on my way to meet up with Joe to pick Derek up. When I called
him to check in, he said Derek had started vomiting around 11
o'clock. It was now 12:15. He said he had seemed fine in the morning,
ate breakfast and lunch, was riding his bike, and then he just
started vomiting. He didn't have a fever, and otherwise seemed like
nothing was wrong. Except the vomiting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We met up and the minute I saw Derek, I
knew something was wrong. He got in my back seat and immediately
started wretching. But the only thing coming up was spit and snot.
And he was making a horrible wretching sound. I knew immediately he
needed help. I needed to get him to an ER. That's not my normal
reaction to Derek vomiting. Derek had a kidney transplant 27 years
ago, and things are never “normal” with him. He can dehydrate
very easily; it could have been his medication causing a problem,
even rejection of the kidney. A virus could wreak havoc in him.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy15khWm4d0rL3tsqWQytTTCdgTUpp1qZTs7K2eg1kK7ATJ1fWQhEjES49KJiPmfdK7Tr9MYVQ6vzBwjc9yc7HydnPFThNj-KRcQcNtGi6fWVOtrojNdYmvHG0Va4YOL9SUZlkmYOh_6ve/s1600/hosp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy15khWm4d0rL3tsqWQytTTCdgTUpp1qZTs7K2eg1kK7ATJ1fWQhEjES49KJiPmfdK7Tr9MYVQ6vzBwjc9yc7HydnPFThNj-KRcQcNtGi6fWVOtrojNdYmvHG0Va4YOL9SUZlkmYOh_6ve/s200/hosp1.jpg" width="200" /></a>We went to an ER close to proximity to
where we had met up, about 45 minutes from my house. I had my mom
with me as well, as I had just left church. I wanted the doctors to
draw blood to check his kidney function and to see if might have a
urinary tract infection. Meanwhile he was wretching every 20 minutes.
There was no wait, Derek was brought in right away. An IV was started
and blood was drawn. Urine was tested. And the wretching continued.
The blood results came back, and everything looked fine. Kidney was
good, no infection. The wretching continued. I thought food
poisoning, but Joe said they all ate the same thing. No one else was
sick. The doctor ordered xrays of his abdomen, thinking maybe he had
an intestinal blockage. The films came back normal. No blockage
there. The doctor then decided to give him IV fluids, to keep him
hydrated. I agreed. She said she wasn't comfortable discharging him
in this condition, and there was no way I was taking him anywhere.
His primary doctor was called and the decision was made to take him
to the hospital close to my house where his doctor was and admit him
for observation. Transportation had to be called, as he now had an IV
and would not be allowed to leave in my care. It was now 5 pm. And
the wretching continued. Every 20 minutes. This wasn't how I had
planned on spending my Superbowl Sunday. We had the game on in the
room we were in.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Meanwhile, Joe had taken my mom home. I
now had to call Bob to pack me a bag to bring to the hospital. While
we were waiting on the ambulance, Derek started to wretch again, and
as I ran over with the bin for him to use, he made this awful face as
he was wretching, and it looked like he was choking. Nothing was
coming up. I yelled for help, and all of a sudden, he wretched and
all this fluid came up. It looked like blood. I thought he was
vomiting blood. It was darkish red/brown, and there was a lot of it.
And then something else came up. Large chunks of hot dogs. All this
went all over my hands as I was holding the bin for him, but this was
such a violent wretch, it didn't all make the bin. And I lost it. I
thought it was blood. I had kept my calm up until now, when I
realized that for six hours, my son had been choking on hot dogs. And
couldn't tell me. The horror was almost too much to bear. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tpLsPLHSepsEbDBoEY_boXzUGJFBUP-ocip0CYXN6vN3VoHRfqs4wb7IMyUSwZ3fP706mbYdz3OgoM8N3SkPl_Q9x4jbkb7gEcGv20eI3nhjOo7LvN0HzgsPYyEmaVG4Wzmljlh-PG1q/s1600/amb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tpLsPLHSepsEbDBoEY_boXzUGJFBUP-ocip0CYXN6vN3VoHRfqs4wb7IMyUSwZ3fP706mbYdz3OgoM8N3SkPl_Q9x4jbkb7gEcGv20eI3nhjOo7LvN0HzgsPYyEmaVG4Wzmljlh-PG1q/s200/amb.jpg" width="112" /></a>When he finished, he sat back, crossed
his arms, and looked so relieved. It was over. All I could do was cry
and hug him. Only by the grace of God, and God's protection, was he
still alive. All he had needed this whole time was a good ol'
Heimlich. Joe didn't tell me he ate hot dogs. I
don't know if I would've figured it out even if he did, who knows.
But I know my son. And I knew he was in distress.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
We still had to go to the other
hospital. So Derek rode in the back of an ambulance by himself and an
attendant, and I followed behind. Every few minutes I could see him
in his stretcher, waving at me through the window. He was fine as
long as he knew I was coming. He made fast friends with the ambulance
attendant, and I saw the guy put his hat on Derek. Then I saw them
both clapping. And I cried all the way to the hospital.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSh7Wq-itdlLQQueL3Do6YOooWBVC0dB2UeF3W96U9G2eCDbA3Y8opfp456qB6Xy7FSVXvZvcrQyzfqOICmO-Iy5KnlYuc_nP3x1zoTxJw6FrqWya14LGjRPHZajoGXdY0LqcjWKYFJET/s1600/amb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSh7Wq-itdlLQQueL3Do6YOooWBVC0dB2UeF3W96U9G2eCDbA3Y8opfp456qB6Xy7FSVXvZvcrQyzfqOICmO-Iy5KnlYuc_nP3x1zoTxJw6FrqWya14LGjRPHZajoGXdY0LqcjWKYFJET/s200/amb2.jpg" width="200" /></a>We were brought into the ER at the
other hospital, a doctor came in who had been briefed by the previous
doctor. I told him that Derek would be fine now, but I wanted him to
have a drink to make sure he could manage now. He was a little afraid
to drink, but once he did, he was thirsty! And he kept it down, and
we went home at 7:30 that evening. And Derek high-fived everyone as
he was leaving, and made a beeline for the car. To say he was happy
to be going home is an understatement. He was back to being Derek.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My son has had countless miracles
performed to save his life. As soon as I knew we were in trouble, I
asked friends and family for prayer. And I truly believe that God
reached down and gave Derek the Heimlich he needed that brought the
hot dogs up. It took 6 hours. And it could only be the grace of God
and His protection that Derek didn't choke to death. Or could
function that long as his trachea was blocked. Derek can't speak.
How unfathomable it is to know that he couldn't tell me he was
choking. And that he had to suffer this way. But God knew, and he
rescued Derek once again.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On Monday, I had to go for a scheduled
cardiac stress test. Gee, I wonder what THOSE results will show!</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-43031504847215687732013-02-07T09:13:00.000-05:002013-02-07T09:13:09.609-05:00Wild Hogs & Biker Chicks<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGiwf44BCeaWRQ0O6JTGlaA2C6yBZh6eiA7n8_0DbQ6E2FMWWcKMOrXjp-V5m-6ut-FSx_jsRmH4ZMtEEKb6kdax3guhznb3wrWsNVEm1vonqPGEZBgahO3q-h1hDhW_5lzBhFgSRQ8-u/s1600/kbbike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGiwf44BCeaWRQ0O6JTGlaA2C6yBZh6eiA7n8_0DbQ6E2FMWWcKMOrXjp-V5m-6ut-FSx_jsRmH4ZMtEEKb6kdax3guhznb3wrWsNVEm1vonqPGEZBgahO3q-h1hDhW_5lzBhFgSRQ8-u/s1600/kbbike.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Last weekend, I was a biker chick.
Sitting behind my Wild Hog, going on a wild adventure. Yep, leather
jacket, boots, the wind blowing through my helmet, er, hair. Do biker
chicks wear helmets? And Uggs? Hmm, this one did. Does that make me
an imposter? Oh well. I was a biker chick in spirit then, if nothing
else.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Have you ever seen the movie “Wild
Hogs” starring Tim Allen, John Travolta, John H Macy, and Martin
Lawrence? It's about a group of middle-aged suburban guys going on a
guy adventure across country on their Harleys. No, they didn't have
any biker chicks on the backs of their bikes. But they did have
plenty of adventure. Watch this movie for a good laugh if you haven't
seen it already. Well, I have a feeling that's what Bob was picturing
this ride to be as he was singing at the top of his lungs before the
ride,“<i>Get your motors running, head out on the highway”</i>
the “Born to Be Wild” song by Steppenwolf. Steppenwolf? Really?
Apparently he was ready for some adventure! He was beginning to scare me!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Originally, this ride was supposed to
be a guy thing. Just Bob and a few guys from our church. (That's right. Wild Hog Church Guys.) Until Bob
said, “You need to come too. We need our chicks on the backs of our
bikes!” <i>What??</i> A few of the wives of his guy friends were a little
hesitant in wanting to go; they would rather have gone antique
shopping while the guys were out adventure riding. I must admit, I
thought antique shopping would have been more fun as well. But
because I love my husband, and because he does so many things just
for me, I agreed to the ride.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
He was SO excited I agreed to get on
the motorcycle. It had been a long time. The last very long ride I
had was miserable and I've refused to do it again. He doesn't have a
“cruiser” type bike; it's a cross between a dirt bike and street
bike. Great fun for him, not so much for me. He looked so darn happy
singing his “Wild” song.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpR1HzqViewrtUqDu7ruA3Yd0os3svjw7uZNI8UvZIrtKRf1Cf8nTxDL4YoG1AulfLArVXlI8QMyMYRZ5SwuSw5w8u821tFW1xxcfMHeq1jGtqw5uPNdw7ngzVaWdTy7hb6o6Ix4qRx62/s1600/gang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpR1HzqViewrtUqDu7ruA3Yd0os3svjw7uZNI8UvZIrtKRf1Cf8nTxDL4YoG1AulfLArVXlI8QMyMYRZ5SwuSw5w8u821tFW1xxcfMHeq1jGtqw5uPNdw7ngzVaWdTy7hb6o6Ix4qRx62/s200/gang.jpg" width="200" /></a>The weather that day was perfect. And I
mean perfect. Bright sunny blue skies, a cool breeze, a wonderful 72
degrees on a wonderful Florida winter day. Our group met up at our
church and took off to ride all around Lake Okeechobee. There were 5
bikes, 4 couples, and one Lone Ranger, who couldn't quite convince
his wife to come along that day. Hmm, maybe she went antique
shopping! Anyway, Danny & Becky led the pack, as they were on a
3-wheel trike that was Bumblebee yellow so we knew with them leading
us, we would definitely be seen on the road! We followed second, then
Gary & Susie, Doug & Bev, with Dennis bringing up the rear.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi7pMgTe7a7nqk1jFTiB9WwRX9HNM8oVIHVw6cA5nrIkA_R3tyUN5WhdbsgMcH7z1TcC_qIiMeNzUIJs-5-2WJFlNQdCQ48slr4KUYFboRcik4c-cYF3YT1rsrpCDhvN64u1kb-AqoZrM/s1600/bikes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGi7pMgTe7a7nqk1jFTiB9WwRX9HNM8oVIHVw6cA5nrIkA_R3tyUN5WhdbsgMcH7z1TcC_qIiMeNzUIJs-5-2WJFlNQdCQ48slr4KUYFboRcik4c-cYF3YT1rsrpCDhvN64u1kb-AqoZrM/s200/bikes.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6ZKbHguEnrBC_-WtZ_mdHEzQSyNxMQZsJqpkqngzTgMSN3DpzWdlnUS1TNG3p8NYvdwxYs8DJqK7_vZyfPdhYd6GmTiX4zF6JbHBUZBmuW-O7hZsew5VDJ1YQkjEtDwrrJzvypfQnhsL/s1600/lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6ZKbHguEnrBC_-WtZ_mdHEzQSyNxMQZsJqpkqngzTgMSN3DpzWdlnUS1TNG3p8NYvdwxYs8DJqK7_vZyfPdhYd6GmTiX4zF6JbHBUZBmuW-O7hZsew5VDJ1YQkjEtDwrrJzvypfQnhsL/s200/lake.jpg" width="200" /></a>Heading across the state on Southern
Blvd, there's not much to see but fields of sugar cane, deep black,
rich soil, and gators cruising along in the canals all along the
highway. Traffic was light, and even the smell of burning cane was
wonderful. I started to breathe in deeply and felt myself relaxing.
This was a day I desperately needed. It had been a long time since
Bob & I had done anything fun like this. We stopped a few times
along the lake to check it out and enjoy the scenery. I was soaking
up the experience big time! We stopped for lunch in Okeechobee at a
restaurant called Lightsey's Seafood Restaurant, who boasted, “If
it swims, crawls or hops, we probably serve it!” Hmm, this could be
very interesting. The food was actually delicious (I ate a blackened
grouper wrap with corn salsa on top), the atmosphere was friendly and
comfortable, and the camaraderie was priceless. Fun times.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNteccn5vEr8KluapOIShUmiFxgHY08UAK7U9y6lAhlpsh0D9VJiLqkiWtC9cv_MvXcultNtm5XnGNkNlV_0iL1l_WU68rKWGn-7t0t_KjzM7aK5fT8EAYCnvpSQ7sEYxFzjyI92IUyFrX/s1600/kb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNteccn5vEr8KluapOIShUmiFxgHY08UAK7U9y6lAhlpsh0D9VJiLqkiWtC9cv_MvXcultNtm5XnGNkNlV_0iL1l_WU68rKWGn-7t0t_KjzM7aK5fT8EAYCnvpSQ7sEYxFzjyI92IUyFrX/s200/kb.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As far as the adventure goes, there was
no throwing away the wrist watches, or blowing up biker bars, or fist
fighting. We left that for the real Wild Hogs. But our adventure was
certainly memorable. And relaxing. And just what I needed. And when
we got home and got off the bike, Bob grabbed me and kissed me and
with a big smile on his face, said, “<i>Thank you!</i>”. My heart
melted, and I knew his adventure was everything he had hoped it to
be. And so was mine. So, when & where is the next one?</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-43202461141711487602013-01-22T12:38:00.000-05:002013-01-22T12:38:32.856-05:00Snow Red?We've added a few new faces to our
crew. Five hens, a rooster, two rabbits. The crew already consists of
5 cats and a dog. It seems our flock is growing! Oh, don't forget
about the five bee hives in the front pasture. I guess I should count
them too.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6BjW5kXqJtQY_p95H9H4cAc6iuJn6GDsW5Mwz2jx2Y5W9ax9GSIwmkbqVqYjBt_E-2MHLP6b8RNMImELzkPhfJ90aMhZ4ICO1D9gzllhqEVK8jPRHMR_Ka5ta_f0rp3G7VgTu3niqQFK/s1600/IMG_1216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga6BjW5kXqJtQY_p95H9H4cAc6iuJn6GDsW5Mwz2jx2Y5W9ax9GSIwmkbqVqYjBt_E-2MHLP6b8RNMImELzkPhfJ90aMhZ4ICO1D9gzllhqEVK8jPRHMR_Ka5ta_f0rp3G7VgTu3niqQFK/s1600/IMG_1216.JPG" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
I have always been an animal lover. And
I especially love horses. Up until the last few years, I had horses
for 23 years. But life was getting a bit complicated and with no more
time left to take care of them, I had to find good homes for them and
let them go. It wasn't fair to them. I still really miss having
horses in my backyard though.</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9H4e8moRe3vbDJMmgolph6nB13VCgp_Mp6wc1JYMyJ5IHXNWgTNR2_vL8mEHYQGf05K5f1p0QqlHsibrNREmKUZHh6vE4mcOKpMWo-zTNcO4P-LmGyTcRH-AJkxJhJTJQf0yS6usIKAas/s1600/spice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9H4e8moRe3vbDJMmgolph6nB13VCgp_Mp6wc1JYMyJ5IHXNWgTNR2_vL8mEHYQGf05K5f1p0QqlHsibrNREmKUZHh6vE4mcOKpMWo-zTNcO4P-LmGyTcRH-AJkxJhJTJQf0yS6usIKAas/s1600/spice.jpg" /></a>Back in the summer, a feral cat decided
she was going to take up residence on our property. She was tiny, skinny, and very hungry. I started leaving food out for her, and she
would sneak in a few bites before my other cats would chase her off.
But she was a determined little thing, and after about 3 months, she
decided I wasn't going to kill her and she became friends with me. She now sleeps in our garage
at night, and sometimes comes in the house to sleep for a short time
when the other cats are out. They're still not too crazy that we've
adopted her. I named her Spice.
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQYFfasnzNPGeQhKluFc8XBcXIvLIfkrKatUZCg4TvX5hstk_0QQWX5q-wdG432oCArLQMMms8TBT1sJSF5WhNR6R_jG6dbAhDD_ctqz4C6pr5CsGKcB1BfRpIMboh9LauD5aanmepLs1/s1600/molly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLQYFfasnzNPGeQhKluFc8XBcXIvLIfkrKatUZCg4TvX5hstk_0QQWX5q-wdG432oCArLQMMms8TBT1sJSF5WhNR6R_jG6dbAhDD_ctqz4C6pr5CsGKcB1BfRpIMboh9LauD5aanmepLs1/s1600/molly.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoMfabaxw88cqTxAzNUg8hB4SctqfvqRE5LjMpva6SDV6EXuhyphenhyphenyNT8CXnSoIlJpz7slT9ae-JymfNBWsgs6Mi98-oS6bgjC6SOMfmxI2sZiLMlnilpNJ4h5Y_ZP-q-Kss7S6T9h4v4Xd4/s1600/lavshir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoMfabaxw88cqTxAzNUg8hB4SctqfvqRE5LjMpva6SDV6EXuhyphenhyphenyNT8CXnSoIlJpz7slT9ae-JymfNBWsgs6Mi98-oS6bgjC6SOMfmxI2sZiLMlnilpNJ4h5Y_ZP-q-Kss7S6T9h4v4Xd4/s1600/lavshir.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg14AKBitKToQviQkrx5luL6zctwgoXWjJABLPMbn6Npg2vaPPJg8mNJhRigv8huYs2vxe_2leTICsZGD_dkCfBEyRbPbatk-5ZGqEI4XbWK4a6sttN3AigD0zUthwoNoLEZKAXJsq-RMt/s1600/hens1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg14AKBitKToQviQkrx5luL6zctwgoXWjJABLPMbn6Npg2vaPPJg8mNJhRigv8huYs2vxe_2leTICsZGD_dkCfBEyRbPbatk-5ZGqEI4XbWK4a6sttN3AigD0zUthwoNoLEZKAXJsq-RMt/s1600/hens1.jpg" /></a>Now to the hens. We decided to make use
of our horse barn and Bob built a chicken coop inside one of the
horse stalls. We bought three hens and a rooster, with intentions of
having them to provide us with fresh eggs. I didn't really want a
rooster, but we decided to get one because of the predators that live
around us (mostly my cats!) with the hopes that he would be able to keep them at bay. We're hoping the rooster gives them
something to think about! The hens we brought home were about 3
months old, and need some time to grow, so we decided we are not
going to let them out until they are full grown. After the first
three days, Bob found one of the hens dead in the coop, after
something had gotten inside and had it as a late night snack.
Apparently the coop wasn't secure enough. So we spent the whole next
day reinforcing it and it's been fine since. So I went and picked up
three more hens; two from the same brood as the original ones and one
hen who is older and is already laying. I named the hens Molly (for
“Good Golly Miss Molly – she is the oldest & biggest one),
Lucy (she's a Rhode Island Red), Hannah ( a very sweet, friendly
hen), and Laverne & Shirley (they look like twins). The
rooster is Roy. Miss Molly bosses everyone around in the coop,
even Roy. He's petrified of her. Hopefully he will grow into his
rooster-ness and tell her a thing or two!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV92d5lFj25wW6Veb-0QQ3PgXGgPwrkskXW90QtykkZGvYBL8XgBscg44HJT0_udJCaXi5j41Vw8WZLhPFVT5XQtT-Ot8fOagJ6E_OCR3xd-FvLyyFaCUCClEW2wV3IvvBGwGRBZuKSav/s1600/buns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV92d5lFj25wW6Veb-0QQ3PgXGgPwrkskXW90QtykkZGvYBL8XgBscg44HJT0_udJCaXi5j41Vw8WZLhPFVT5XQtT-Ot8fOagJ6E_OCR3xd-FvLyyFaCUCClEW2wV3IvvBGwGRBZuKSav/s200/buns.jpg" width="200" /></a>We also got some rabbits. Rabbit poop
makes the best fertilizer for gardening and we would like to start
growing some of our own veggies. They also make a delicious stew,
according to Bob. So he wanted to have rabbits down in the barn as
well. I didn't name the rabbits. It's hard to name something that
will end up at your dinner table...and I don't mean as dinner guests! Kind of like the oysters that thought they were invited to dinner with the walrus in Alice in Wonderland. Anyway, the rabbits are Bob's responsibility. I don't want to even look at
their fuzzy little faces.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So what does Snow Red have to do with
anything? Well, my neighbor says I'm just like Snow White with the
way the animals react to me. She said they are just drawn to me.
Except I don't look like Snow White. Strawberry blonde hair & freckles? Which is where Snow Red comes
in; close enough. Anyway, there might be
something to that. One time I heard a bird chirping down at the barn.
I opened the back door to see where it was, and saw a parakeet flying
around down in the trees by the barn. I stood at the back door and
called to it, saying, “Cme'ere little bird, come on in the house”.
And guess what? IT DID! It flew straight from the barn all the way up
to the house and flew right inside the house through the doors I had
open! I almost fell on the floor!! I ended up finding it a home, as
my cats would never have let me keep a bird in the house. Then there
was the time I was driving in my neighborhood and saw a horse
galloping down the middle of the main road towards my car. At the
last minute the horse turned down a street and just a few houses
down, just stopped. I got out of the car and it let me walk right
up to it and hold it. I called Bob and he came down with a halter and
lead rope which I put on and proceeded to walk the horse to my house
and put it in the pasture. It's owner found it later that day; it
seems they had just moved to a new house in the area and somehow it
escaped through an open gate. And then there's Roy, the rooster. He
likes me. He meets me at the coop door when he hears my voice, jumps
up on the box to watch me when I'm milling around the barn, and will stay
near me when I go inside the coop. Roy is my friend. Then there's
Spice. She made friends with me, mostly only me. She
doesn't have much tolerance for anyone else. There's a possum living
in the cabbage palm out front. He doesn't run away from me. He
should, because if I find him anywhere near the chickens, well, let's
just say I might become Annie Oakley instead of Snow Red! And now
the turtles. Yesterday, I moseyed on over to check out the canal
that's on the side of our house, and while I was standing there, two
turtles came to the surface and poked their heads out of the water
and just stayed there looking at me. So I went and got some food and
fed them, and guess what? They were waiting for me this morning when
I went over to the canal. Just knowing I was there to feed them. </div>
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My
neighbor says that she expects to see a line of animals just waiting
outside my garage some morning. Just knowing Snow White, er, Snow
Red, lives there. I'm ok with that; just as long as the seven dwarfs
don't show up. I think I'm plum out of space here in our home in the
woods!</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-29637755742618183672013-01-14T10:14:00.000-05:002013-01-14T10:20:37.951-05:00A Time to Sweat<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, 2013 is in full swing now, and
it's taken me a while to catch up. I had all these good intentions of
getting my act together, and getting back to doing the things I need
to do. Which I haven't even started doing yet. So goes my life. I've
been doing things that weren't on my list, like being on the front
lines battling sickness. Getting the house back in shape after the
holidays. Making doctor appointments. Eating Frosted Flakes. Taking naps.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, today I will start working on my
list. First is fitness. I am SO not in shape. It seems I have to get
back into shape just to get into shape! I'm definitely not one of
those people who LOVE working out; who love exercising, sweating. No
sir, not me. It takes everything I've got to motivate myself into
working out. I will admit, once I start, I really do feel better. And
thankfully, it's in the comfort of my own home, because it's on the
ugly side, me getting back into exercising. Not pretty at all. But my
cats don't mind. And Comet actually likes it, because when I get down
on the floor mat its full license to come over and jump on me,
because I must be down there for his playing pleasure! And if I'm not
motivated enough, well, I can be persuaded into playtime pretty
quickly, especially when he brings me his favorite rope to play tug
of war with. Less sweating for me, if you know what I mean. Ok, back
to the fitness. See how easily I'm distracted??</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Over the years, I've tried many
different things when it comes to working out. I used to love Tae-Bo,
with Billy Blanks. He's got many different workout routines, all
pretty much ballistic. And I used to be able to keep up with him. Not
so much any more. But maybe, once I get back into shape....well,
we'll see.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've done Pilates, but after being used
to Tae-Bo and the frantic pace of exercising, I just couldn't get
into the Pilates thing. And Yoga. Now, I've tried yoga a few
different times, and I just can't do it. I have to think too much for
yoga. The instructors are constantly talking, naming all the
different positions and talking about breathing the whole time; well,
it's just too much distraction! By time I finally get a position, and
think about the breathing, well, I'm way behind the instructor. I
just end up sitting and watching the DVD. Then I get ticked off and
shut it off. So much for yoga.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My last fitness routine was with the
elliptical. We have one we bought off Craig's List, and I have used
it quite a bit. It's not ballistic, gets the heart rate up, and burns
calories. But it's SO boring! I even have it in front of the TV, but
that doesn't help much. I tend to want to stop and watch what's on,
haha! It's hard to concentrate when you're sweating, you know!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So today I found some free workout
videos on YouTube. I tried a kickboxing one, but I'm afraid to
start with that one. I don't want my back to go out on me. Then Bob
would have to take over my kitchen again, and I know he's not ready
for that. Neither am I. Then I looked at Yoga Meltdown with Jillian
Michaels, just for kicks. I browsed through the beginning thinking
maybe I could get through her workout, but she scares me. She's a
tough cookie. After browsing some more, I actually found one I think
I might be able to get through, with Denise Austin, called <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=52uvwCi03yE" target="_blank"><i>Ultimate Fat Burn Workout</i></a> <span id="goog_1078074515"></span><span id="goog_1078074516"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>. Not too easy, not too ballistic. And she's got a
nice, gentle, way about her. Not scary. So I got through the 30
minutes and didn't keel over. Woo hoo! Maybe I finally turned the
corner and am back on track into getting my act together for 2013.
Now, where's Comet & that rope??</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-51899361021606882692013-01-02T08:22:00.004-05:002013-01-02T11:42:12.986-05:00Happy New Year - Finally!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The holidays are officially over.
Finished. Kaput. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to move on. I
love Christmas and all that it entails. But after all the shopping,
wrapping, visiting, eating, cleaning up, eating, Christmas break for
Derek, eating, well I'm ready to get my life back!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I thought I had a good head
start for this Christmas. I got most of my shopping done early;
wrapped the gifts way ahead of time (usually I spend all of Christmas
Eve wrapping) and bought all my baking essentials so I'd be ready to
go. Then real life happened.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I really wasn't finished
shopping. I kept thinking “maybe I didn't get enough”. And I left
the stocking stuffers for last. So off to the fight the crowds I
went. Then I started the baking. And you all know what happened with
my baking. In case you didn't read that post, see <a href="http://www.brewedinlove.com/2012/12/for-love-of-baking.html" target="_blank">“For the Love of Baking!”</a> I guess I should be happy the baking flopped,
because I kept the obligatory holiday weight gain down to a minimum
this year!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The biggest challenge during
the holidays: Derek's vacation from school. No two ways around it,
Derek is a lot of kid. Non-stop, full-charge ahead,
all-day-every-day-for-12-days kind of kid. Waking up before 5 am
almost every day, it made for some long days. He normally gets up
early, but when he gets something new, well, then he hardly even
sleeps at night. He can't wait to get up and get his day going. And forget about taking a nap. If he's napping, he's sick. Derek
has one speed – fast! He even sleeps fast, haha! He's also still
like a toddler in so many ways, even though he's now 29 years old. He
wants my attention, all of it, all the time. If I leave the room that
he's in, well, that's license for havoc. From touching the TV, DVD,
Wii game controls to tormenting the dog or whatever else happens to
be in the same room, havoc will be wreaked. All day, every day. For
12 looonnnggg days. And of course, he has to be right on top of me.
If I'm in the kitchen, he comes and stands behind me, just looking at
my hair and breathing on me. Right behind me. All day, every day,
for 12 loonnngg days. He does the same thing when we go to the
stores. Bob says the Bible says that “hair is the glory of a
woman”. Well, I guess I must be just full of glory in Derek's book!
He's enthralled with my hair. All this, in addition to managing mom
all day, every day, well, let's just say it's a wonder I have any
mind left at this point. But there's hope for recovery: Derek went back to his regular routine today at the Hab center!</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So, today is the beginning
of my new year. New resolutions. I don't usually make resolutions,
because then I don't have any to break! But there are things on my
list that are high on my priority list to do, and some of them are so
I can keep what little sanity I have left. Like playing the violin. I
must get back to it, as learning it and playing it really does soothe
my soul. Completing the book I've begun writing about Derek and all
the life lessons I've experienced in the last 29 years. This has
proven to be painful at times and sometimes I have to put it aside
because it's hard to go back there in my mind. But it's also a
journey that has so many good things in it, and it's a joy to
experience those again as well. And don't forget exercise. It's a
great way for me to release the stress that builds up and helpful to
my family so I don't explode on them! But first on my list of things
to do every day is to have my quiet time with God. When life gets busy crazy, unfortunately this is usually the first thing that is the easiest to skip. But it really is the best
way I know to get my head in the right place at the beginning of
every single day, and with His help, I can face whatever challenges
that are thrown my way. On my own, they're pretty difficult to
manage. But with His strength, well, anything is possible.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>Philippians 4:13: For I can
do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.
</i></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Happy New Year and may your
year be filled with peace, love, happiness and many blessings! Now, I think I'll go take a nap!</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-57707552666034561892012-12-26T14:23:00.002-05:002012-12-27T06:34:15.992-05:00For the Love of Baking!<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's hard to believe, but Christmas has
come and gone, just like that! All that prep, all the hustle and
bustle, and it feels like in the blink of an eye – boom! It's gone!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's always a chaotic time of year for
me, but I thought since I wasn't working outside the home this
Christmas, it might be a little easier to manage. I even got a head
start on my shopping and thought I'd be totally done and ready at
least a week ahead of time. But I wasn't. This year, more than ever,
it was pretty stressful.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I won't go into all the gory details of
the stress, but I will talk about one of the major
causes: my holiday baking. I LOVE to bake, and can't wait until
December comes because that's when all caution gets thrown to the
wind and the baking begins. But this year, with all the baking I did,
there's only ONE thing that actually turned out like I wanted it to. ONE THING! Let me tell you about my baking fiasco.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
First, I made kiss cookies. My
favorites. Apparently the nuts were stale that I used and put in the
batter. So I didn't like the taste of them. Ever tasted a stale walnut? Blech! Then I moved on to the
chocolate chip cookies. My friend makes the absolute BEST ones I've
ever had, so I asked her for the recipe and she said she follows the
Toll house recipe except she uses shortening instead of butter and
adds just a little extra flour. So I go ahead and make up the batter,
and just when I was placing the cookie batter on the cookie sheet,
realized I never used the shortening, I used BUTTER instead! And they
didn't turn out like I wanted; I didn't even like them. Blech! Then I made
fudge, and as I was cooking it, went looking for my candy
thermometer, but couldn't find it. It was nowhere to be found, like
so many other kitchen utensils that have somehow joined together and
have found a new place to live. So the fudge didn't turn out like I
had planned. It tasted ok, but I like it a bit flaky and this was
more creamy than flaky. I also made Rice Krispy treats, but I made
them for Brooke & Ryan when they came over for our Christmas
dinner together. I don't even like Rice Krispy treats. Then I was
going to make peanut brittle. I even honey roasted the raw peanuts
first. And the brittle came out like glue. If you dared put a piece
in your mouth, be prepared for it to suck your teeth right out of
your head.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lastly, I made a cheesecake. I had high
hopes for this cheesecake. I've made a gazillion of them. I'm well
known for my cheesecake. It's stupendous. Bob calls it “Monster
Killer Cheesecake.” It's the real reason he married me. Well, not
really, I guess. But then again....lol. Anyway, I was supposed to
bring a cheesecake to Bob's sister's house, which is where we were
having our Christmas day dinner. It's tradition. I always bring a
cheesecake. After the initial cooking time of 45 minutes, it's
supposed to sit out for half an hour, then go back in the oven with a
sour cream topping on top at a high temperature for 10 minutes. So
when the timer went off telling me it was time to put it back in the
oven, I slipped it in and when the 10 minutes were up, went back to
take it out and saw the topping STILL SITTING ON THE COUNTER IN A
BOWL! AHHHH! Just kill me now! Et tu, CHEESECAKE?? The
little evil Christmas elves were working against me, for sure!!
Anyway, I took it out, put the topping on, put it back in the oven
for 7 minutes, praying the topping would set and the cheesecake would
turn out something better than a hard brick that would break your
teeth when you bit into it. And guess what? It turned out just fine.
It was just a teeny tiny bit drier than it should have been. And Bob
said he only noticed because he is the master connoisseur of my
cheesecake. Being that he married me because of it and all.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And the one thing that turned out the
best? It was the Eggnog muffins with a streusel topping. I made them
on Christmas morning. And I think that even the little evil Christmas
elves knew I needed a break from the baking disasters, because they
turned out delicious. Maybe I will even bake again. Someday.</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-42579813799347120782012-12-19T07:29:00.002-05:002012-12-19T08:01:19.949-05:00Girl Time!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlRASt9yUPpaqe2TrTFvNmHdMBDcXlCwhL7y1JRoB5oPSVm9YMgAod-DedX7xKYcwDeWofvy9tzelNxsOcFjJ1MMpWbMvDDDcmyHUh78bI6cG-6oSPfZ6fIR5Yuo9BqgJD270eKKgQ1rN/s1600/teahouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihlRASt9yUPpaqe2TrTFvNmHdMBDcXlCwhL7y1JRoB5oPSVm9YMgAod-DedX7xKYcwDeWofvy9tzelNxsOcFjJ1MMpWbMvDDDcmyHUh78bI6cG-6oSPfZ6fIR5Yuo9BqgJD270eKKgQ1rN/s200/teahouse.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I went to a ladies Christmas tea this past weekend; I had been looking forward to it all year long! One of my
best friends organizes a tea every year at Christmas for a small group of ladies. Sometimes it's at her
beautiful home, and sometimes it's at a tea house. This year we went
to Lady Anne's Tea House in Stuart (http://www.ladyannstearoom.com/).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The tea isn't just about having tea
together; it's a time to fellowship, to eat delicious food, to share
presents, and to relax in an atmosphere that is totally filled with
Christmas spirit. A time to laugh, share stories, and just catch up.
I always come away from this special time together refreshed. I look
forward to it every year at this time. We actually already reserved
our date for next year at the same place! </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCOKGqv4buLd87FfQIYCXJAc-bH2QxEMCv4Ly3oQfbWV2zklAbnnjLOYsZORnYrcGtvil_X_JMj1NgMJ_62VNbRkYUZjUrLfbUg-9rnaNLbIr7IuxwAuJQhv8SChsYmo5rJEEgSY3j5Wt/s1600/kbrown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCOKGqv4buLd87FfQIYCXJAc-bH2QxEMCv4Ly3oQfbWV2zklAbnnjLOYsZORnYrcGtvil_X_JMj1NgMJ_62VNbRkYUZjUrLfbUg-9rnaNLbIr7IuxwAuJQhv8SChsYmo5rJEEgSY3j5Wt/s200/kbrown.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first bestie, Kathy, 1969</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Like I said, it's more about friendship
than anything else. You know, I wasn't one of the popular girls
during my school years. I was actually the “geeky” one, the one
the other kids made fun of. I was painfully shy, pretty smart; had
freckles & red hair, wore glasses, and didn't dress in the most
stylish of clothing. I wore whatever my mother bought me. I don't
have very fond memories of my school days. To say I didn't have many
friends is an understatement. But there was one friend I had, who was
my neighbor. We met when we were 7 & 8 years old. We were
besties. We shared our childhood together until I was 15 and moved
away to another state. I thought I would just die at the time. We
kept in touch even though we were so far away from each other. We
visited occasionally, but led lives now separate from each other.
Eventually we both got married, had kids, and we actually lost touch
for a few years. She found me again one day, many years later, to
tell me of the death of her father. We reconnected again and it felt
like we had never lost touch. I am so very glad to have her in my
life once again, and now that we're both grandmas we get to share our grandchildren together.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbL40R0KnnVq0s9fyIcZpn9Dbd9x0VJpx_fa-zxL8AB-Xc25WUYJZAJAKp3bOqH_YicfVazhOgREMQEPPLHxFExdEI2qGaVcndi4B8lGz7ORGKmQl5CxIUP5KQHuZ2aHDHkCfVqqFwdCc/s1600/074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbL40R0KnnVq0s9fyIcZpn9Dbd9x0VJpx_fa-zxL8AB-Xc25WUYJZAJAKp3bOqH_YicfVazhOgREMQEPPLHxFExdEI2qGaVcndi4B8lGz7ORGKmQl5CxIUP5KQHuZ2aHDHkCfVqqFwdCc/s200/074.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="150" /></a>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I_OKxCskxVAJTpS9fZEi_0SSTiiKdq6EOG3fhHhJMfR0CCaZvKbAWSfjlMzme_luir1S5_l-YlwFonlB-xL8n4EgPpkktu0adsq3bsNAchaah6QzFSjhuBAnTgMF8mK7UXUXTDLpj-Qg/s1600/friends1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I_OKxCskxVAJTpS9fZEi_0SSTiiKdq6EOG3fhHhJMfR0CCaZvKbAWSfjlMzme_luir1S5_l-YlwFonlB-xL8n4EgPpkktu0adsq3bsNAchaah6QzFSjhuBAnTgMF8mK7UXUXTDLpj-Qg/s200/friends1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2iKfxRtmog00cgN3XNnJvZOSTuzcL78BpiftEtZ4x09rAlTghDjkvcRIh5lDhit5ayqt_IVhumThhrqPrsJH8po0lmEV-3FAIs6UOXUi8qJ2RU7COL7j9cgBYWi2BQSK0c9gMa1QGWiz/s1600/lori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2iKfxRtmog00cgN3XNnJvZOSTuzcL78BpiftEtZ4x09rAlTghDjkvcRIh5lDhit5ayqt_IVhumThhrqPrsJH8po0lmEV-3FAIs6UOXUi8qJ2RU7COL7j9cgBYWi2BQSK0c9gMa1QGWiz/s200/lori.jpg" width="200" /></a>I've a handful of close friends who
mean the world to me. I know a lot of people, but the handful of
women I call close friends, they're a pretty incredible group of
women. They've been there for me through some pretty tough times.
Even though there was little they could do for me as my son was on
the brink of death on and off for 16 months, I knew I could count on
them for whatever I needed. When I was reeling from the divorce from
my first husband, my childhood best friend flew down to be with me as I faced my first Christmas alone after being married 12 years with 2 little children to take care
of. I couldn't hardly get out of bed in the mornings, and had no
desire to celebrate any holiday. But she came to be with me, to hold
my hand, to let me cry on her shoulder, and helped me bring a tree
home and decorated it with us. And another close friend, whom I met
when our children were little, helped get me through the ordeal
of my divorce. There were times I could hardly breathe, never mind eat. Most days I would spend with
her at her home while she comforted me, cried with me, and even fed me. If I wasn't at her home, I was on the phone with
her. Many years later, it was I who was doing the same for her, as
she went through the same ordeal. There are too many stories to tell about all the special times I've shared with the ladies whom I call my closest friends. These are the women I can count on to be here for me in good times and bad;
the ones I belly laugh with over silly stuff like pink lipstick at bedtime and "resoaring my stole"; the ones I cry with, and the women I share life's journeys
with. They are true gifts from God and I would do anything for them
as well. I hope they each know how very special they are to me. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I truly hope that you all have friendships to treasure, besties to laugh and cry with and to share your journeys with! There's nothing like "girl time" together!</div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-27844605798675990722012-12-14T08:05:00.001-05:002012-12-14T08:05:53.234-05:00The Real Christmas Spirit<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Christmas. A word that can instill fear
in the hearts of people. Fear that we haven't gotten our Christmas
shopping done yet. Fear there's not enough time left to do all we
have to do. For some kids, it may be fear they weren't “good
enough” for Santa to bring them all that they want on their list
this year. For some adults, it may even be fear of the in-laws. Or
even fear of being alone during the holidays. But fear is the last
thing we should be experiencing!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've been watching a lot of hokey
Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. As one is finished, I tape
another one to the DVR so I don't miss it. They are ridiculously
hokey and, well, just ridiculous. But I can't stop watching them!
Because there's always a real message in them; apparently, the
Hallmark channel isn't afraid to make a movie with "God" in it. From
the singing of the real Christmas carols, to people being in church,
from showing a Christmas play about the birth of Jesus, and people
even praying over the dinner table. The acting may not be great, and
the story a bit hokey as I said, but the messages these movies bring
are down-home, real, and make you think. Christmas is not about fear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Bob & I had a heart-to-heart this
year about gift giving. He doesn't understand the “wish list”
idea. He says a gift should be one given from the heart, not just
picked off a wish list. He grew up in a home where Christmas was
always first about the baby Jesus, and family next. Santa was way
down the line. They didn't make wish lists; gifts were given by
knowing the person you were buying for and giving something from
their hearts. It was different for me. It was always about Santa in
our house. Santa was the one bringing the gifts. We went to see Santa
and gave him our list of things we just had to have. We had to be
“good” all year, because if we weren't Santa would know! We
didn't get everything we had on our lists, but Santa was always
pretty good to us.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One year, while Derek was still so sick
and was in and out of the hospital, we had just gotten discharged
from the hospital and Christmas was just a week away. There was no
money for presents for him & Brooke, and it was all we could do
to get a tree in the house. We didn't know how we were even going to
get groceries. There certainly wasn't much Christmas spirit in our
home either. But guess what happened? There was a knock at the door
soon after we got home, and we found someone from the church we were
attending standing there, arms filled with boxes of groceries and
bags of presents for the kids. There are hardly words to express how
much that meant to us. People had given from their hearts, showing
the love of Jesus to us. I will never forget this act of kindness,
and it still brings tears to my eyes. The best gifts, ever.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This year, amidst all the hustle &
bustle, take some time to search your hearts. Ask God where you can
be used to help someone feel the love of Jesus this year. And
your heart will know the joy of blessing someone who will never
forget where the real Christmas spirit truly comes from.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Oh, and watch some hokey Christmas
movies on the Hallmark channel this year!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><i>And the angel said to them, “Fear
not; for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to
all people. For to you is born this day in the city of David a
Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”
</i></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><i>Luke 2:10,11</i></b></div>
maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-21594118402780702292012-12-08T12:28:00.000-05:002012-12-08T12:28:52.921-05:00<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>THE GREAT OUTDOORS</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We did it. We escaped. It's no small
feat, you know. To get out of the house to go away. But we did it. We
are living in the great outdoors, at least for 3 days.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We love to go camping. We used to camp
in a tent, and have a few horror, er, I mean, “bonding” stories
to prove it. Like the time we camped in a tent in the Keys in June
and a “franken” storm blew in swarms of gigantic mosquitoes from
the Everglades. We used three entire cans of bug spray and went home
with poisoning from all the Deet our bodies absorbed. That same trip,
a small hurricane blew threw the area we were camping in and blew our
entire tent down in the middle of the night, soaking us and
everything in it with torrential downpour rain. We ended up sitting
in our truck for hours in the middle of the night waiting for the
storm to pass. Lesson learned: don't camp in Florida in the summer in
a tent. I've a few more stories to tell, but maybe some other time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now we camp in a pop-up trailer,
usually during the winter months when the weather is the absolute
best. No more tents for me! We love cool weather camping, when the
temps at night dip into the 40's and 50's, and daytime is high 60's
to 70's. Perfect camping weather. We like to go north of where we
live, about 4-5 hours, which brings us to the Ocala or Gainesville
areas. Our pop-up sleeps 5, but it's usually just Bob & I on a
quick getaway for a few days out of town.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like I said earlier, it's no small feat
trying to get out of town. First, I need to get Derek taken care of,
so I have to confirm that his dad is available to have him during the
time we're gone; then I also have to have someone at the house to
watch over mom, as she can't be alone any longer. And don't forget
about the “crew”, who also needs tending to. This time Brooke &
Christian came to stay and take care of the old home front and all
who reside there. Then my work begins: I need to leave instructions
for how to manage mom and the crew; pack up everything we need for
camping; prepare things for mom to have in the house; grocery shop
for camping food and a number of other odds & ends that are too
numerous to list. It gets a bit overwhelming preparing for just a few
days away! But once we were out of the house and on the road, this
huge weight gets lifted off my shoulders and I get in my “vacation”
mode. FREEDOM!! And let me just say this: without the help of those
who stay behind to take care of Derek, mom, the crew, the
house....THANK YOU! You are so appreciated!! You make it possible for
me to keep my sanity!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yesterday we took a leisurely bike ride
and then we went canoeing down the Silver River. It was so peaceful
and beautiful. The campsite wasn't crowded yet, as it was just
Thursday and the weekend crowds weren't here yet. As we were
canoeing, we saw a small herd of deer in the woods, a few gators
swimming lazily down the river, plenty of birds & turtles, lots
of huge blue catfish in the crystal clear waters, and then we saw a
few monkeys. Yes, monkeys. Apparently back in 1938, the man who
started the Silver Springs attraction brought in some monkeys to help
lure visitors in. He didn't know the monkeys were going to swim in
the river and escape, and they've been living on a little island in
the woods in the area ever since. So we even got to see a few of them
swinging happily through the trees.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My favorite part of camping has to be
the mornings. It's cool, quiet, and with a campfire going while
sitting in a chair with my coffee, well, it doesn't get much better
than that for me. This is a beautiful park, and the campsites are
large and private. Lots of trees & shade. Its so very dark here
at night, except for the brilliant stars in the sky. But they don't light up the camping area; as a matter of fact, the first night I was here, I was
walking down the road to the bathrooms and I was actually a bit
spooked by the blackness of the night. I felt like I was being
swallowed up with it! No campsites had any lights on, and there was
nothing but pure darkness, blackness, all around me. Spooooky. I
could almost hear “Jason, Jason, Jason.....kill, kill, kill...”
those whispered words in the horror movie Friday the 13. Which is why
I don't watch horror movies any more. And which is why I ran back to
my campsite. And why I didn't go alone to the bathroom anymore after
dark.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Today is our last full day here. I will
be soaking up as much of this atmosphere as I can. If only I could
bottle this up for when life gets a bit overwhelming with the all its' craziness, all its' demands. But I'll just have to settle for looking
forward to the next time we can escape, and come back to the beauty
of nature; God's restorative, beautiful creation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-75713378700743609122012-11-29T10:13:00.002-05:002012-11-29T10:13:24.717-05:00She's Down!Apparently the bah humbug is trying to work it's way into my Christmas spirit....my back decided to tell me it's a bit overworked after a weekend of Christmas decorating. With a little bit of a warning, it quit on me. Kaput. And I wasn't even finished with all I had to do. Not a whole lot I could do about it but go directly to the couch and get off my feet. Which meant someone else had to pick up my regular workload. This could prove to be very interesting.<br />
<br />
I didn't really need to be doing anything for the afternoon, so it wasn't hard to be laid out on the couch doing nothing for a while. But come around 5 pm, that's when the real work would begin. Derek would be coming home and dinner was going to have to be started. I was only allowed to get up for a bathroom break, according to Bob. So it was going to be up to him to now take over for me after his day of working. Mom is here too, but she isn't capable of helping out much anymore. Like I said, this could get very interesting....<br />
<br />
I had planned on making soup with the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, so when Bob asked what dinner was supposed to be, I told him he'd have to make the soup. He just looked at me like I was speaking Chinese. "I don't know how to make soup", I heard him say. And so it began.<br />
<br />
It wasn't a difficult recipe, but that's relative. Relative to who is preparing it. I would read him the steps and he would do the work. But that would also mean he would have to find the ingredients. And Bob's eyes don't work too well when it comes to looking for something and actually finding it. It could be right in front of him and he'd never see it. Except for when you put a computer screen in front of him with a program that has a "bug" in it...he has no problem seeing that. But look in the fridge or the pantry for something? Not gonna happen. I was pre-hyperventilating with the thoughts of how Bob was going to find the ingredients he was going to need. Without me actually getting up off the couch. Which he would not let me do. Get me a paper bag, please....<br />
<br />
To make a long story short, the soup got made. And it was delicious. And we both survived the ordeal. But something interesting happened in the midst of this ordeal. I learned a big lesson. You see, I'm the kind of person who would just rather do something myself instead of asking someone else to do it. Or to ask for help. It's just easier that way. This situation reminded me of a Survivor episode I saw on TV. The team members were blindfolded while another team member, who was not, called out directions to the members to get them to get through a maze BY LISTENING.I learned to sit back, let someone else help ME, and that it was OK to let that happen. It didn't make me weak - it humbled me, and gave me a picture of what it's like to have to totally depend on someone else. Like how my mom must feel sometimes. Her independence has been slowly taken away and it hurts. I guess I'm alot like her in that way, not wanting to depend on anyone else and doing everything for myself. Maybe now I have a little more empathy for how she feels, what it's like to ask me for help when she can't do something. I don't want her to ever feel she's a burden, which is how I felt even for a short time. But an even greater reminder came to me: to trust God. Don't take over for God, let Him take care of things. Totally depend on Him for all things. LISTEN to Him, listen for Him. And He will take care of me, of you. So many times I get in the way, and He can't get through to me. Ha, it's amazing how life's lessons come through.<br />
<br />
<br />
So over the next day and a half, Bob did everything I would have normally done. From making dinner, cleaning up, taking care of Derek (not an easy task!) and getting him off to school and then managing him when he came home; to helping mom out, to making sure the crew got all their treats at bedtime, to turning off the Christmas lights outside and an uncountable number of other things, he did them all. Without complaining. Oh, I heard a few huffs & puffs; but he never said a word. Until I was back up and was able to make dinner and clean up last night. And then he said, "Thank God!". <br />
<br />
So I'm back in action again, but am definitely taking it easy on the ol' back. I jokingly said to Bob, in the midst of him waiting on me, cooking, cleaning up, etc., that "I'm not sure how long it's going to take my back to get better...could be at least a week..."; he didn't that was too funny. Guess he lost his sense of humor for a little while! Anyway, I'm reminded once again, of the many reasons I love this man. Thank you honey, for taking such good care of me, always.<br />
<br />
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<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-5368307268386911482012-11-27T08:12:00.000-05:002012-11-27T08:12:36.916-05:00Happy Birthday, My ET<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MYrfdPgQHTBSWJ5DbwcPdjBpWGpaDk-vgSSKkANbmy1tPvvkl5PJ8Dgty7jty4uN0U_6vVhQO2L_vEXRFAKGlzIvqg_LOQqzneX0GJ_PEsRbl9ME7a5weTyx_UI6r6jdbn8K7g7br9We/s1600/swing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MYrfdPgQHTBSWJ5DbwcPdjBpWGpaDk-vgSSKkANbmy1tPvvkl5PJ8Dgty7jty4uN0U_6vVhQO2L_vEXRFAKGlzIvqg_LOQqzneX0GJ_PEsRbl9ME7a5weTyx_UI6r6jdbn8K7g7br9We/s200/swing.jpg" width="158" /></a>Twenty nine years ago today, my life was drastically altered. My son was born. All 8 lbs 10 oz of him. Normal & healthy is what I was hoping for. But God had other plans.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSst1UjLE-rj9CZZGwNdB0LdFhoozha2lPbcKXgqXFN0ZEHAPT0PvvtJwhsx1l4RrUTQYMT6rWpWpXtixhI0Cz9fSBb0FaWgqt3miMUajbbvFY8oJKh9EnqpO1y8iJ6kzIvCWA7lmX15aG/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSst1UjLE-rj9CZZGwNdB0LdFhoozha2lPbcKXgqXFN0ZEHAPT0PvvtJwhsx1l4RrUTQYMT6rWpWpXtixhI0Cz9fSBb0FaWgqt3miMUajbbvFY8oJKh9EnqpO1y8iJ6kzIvCWA7lmX15aG/s200/IMG_0001.jpg" width="141" /></a>From birth to 16 months of age, Derek fought for his life. With every ounce of his little being. If he had listened to the doctors, he would have perished. Given up. But being the redhead that he is, his will to live was much stronger than the doctors predictions that he would die. And God had plans for Derek.<br />
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He is 29 today. He is a walking miracle. He's been transplanted now 27 years. Again, a miracle. Derek is a force to be reckoned with. Everything he is, everything he does, is with all of his being. He loves big. He laughs big. He enjoys life big. But his body is little. And he's still my eternal toddler. Disney World will always be real to him. I know him like he's just an extension of my own body. I guess he is, in more ways than one. It's not every day a child gets a second chance at living with a kidney from his mom. Only God could have made me an almost perfect, almost exact, match for him. Again, a miracle.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrz6mOnjIhl0IaFbh-2tRnlTCEBnDtgoGX2j4Nbf17iH3WD6HTzutn5SQK9i5HdIGwMCWTrsJsYMJbQTgDei5L7fOO011mhGCMJDVI1Uyc1wVuaFGub9yc6jw-nQ7gAuNw8v5cma6JR9F/s1600/motorcycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYrz6mOnjIhl0IaFbh-2tRnlTCEBnDtgoGX2j4Nbf17iH3WD6HTzutn5SQK9i5HdIGwMCWTrsJsYMJbQTgDei5L7fOO011mhGCMJDVI1Uyc1wVuaFGub9yc6jw-nQ7gAuNw8v5cma6JR9F/s200/motorcycle.jpg" width="132" /></a>He makes other people happy. He somehow knows, when meeting someone, if they need an extra hug that day. He's deaf, but he loves music. I believe he has a special connection with God. I believe God has used him in more ways than I could ever know, to touch people's lives in ways I don't understand. But they do.<br />
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Sometimes its very difficult having a special needs child. But the blessings outweigh the hardships, and I would never wish for things to be different for myself or for him. Since he was born, I've cried more tears than I could ever even think of counting, but I've also laughed more than the sum of all those tears because of the joy he has brought me. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpA0gH4b8lJqldTcIecQVdbRl4iZ3XgeHd0alrnyORBWH2VwLjPIcmPSL0tnQ4MpQ1tJXbfpuszv_YPGHBItd0wiS_2IPiEhnqtRFOu2Q85ZCFT6Q1em1Unbv2RA62gcTuLxjakJBI5S5/s1600/dance1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlpA0gH4b8lJqldTcIecQVdbRl4iZ3XgeHd0alrnyORBWH2VwLjPIcmPSL0tnQ4MpQ1tJXbfpuszv_YPGHBItd0wiS_2IPiEhnqtRFOu2Q85ZCFT6Q1em1Unbv2RA62gcTuLxjakJBI5S5/s200/dance1.jpg" width="132" /></a>Happy Birthday to you, Derek, my Eternal Toddler. I love you more than words could ever say.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfEVx53DDlMonWaaMGOSR-8qheqyccgTCIa3n3LkoCXlkyK5kayTeR0Mx1EAomnKs19Ul4XW4stcAA7UGdol4_W8EWVOjQGraRdlL9zgb7SFjrNzQw5OyWeVqKTzXN-uQx8LkJnBJHOdG/s1600/Disney06+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfEVx53DDlMonWaaMGOSR-8qheqyccgTCIa3n3LkoCXlkyK5kayTeR0Mx1EAomnKs19Ul4XW4stcAA7UGdol4_W8EWVOjQGraRdlL9zgb7SFjrNzQw5OyWeVqKTzXN-uQx8LkJnBJHOdG/s200/Disney06+005.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-31622004862520789282012-11-25T19:39:00.001-05:002012-11-26T08:32:01.985-05:00Tis the SeasonWell, I do believe we are officially underway on the countdown to Christmas. Thanksgiving came and went so quickly, I almost missed it!<br />
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I always try to put my Christmas decorations up on the weekend following Thanksgiving. I love decorating for this holiday, and it usually takes me up to a week to finish putting everything up. But this year, I think I'll scale it back a little bit. This year, things are going to be a little different - my daughter & her husband and my only grandchild will be out of town. They usually come on Christmas Eve, we have a wonderful dinner, open presents; then on Christmas Day, we all go to my husband's sister's house for dinner. But not this year.....<br />
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I'm really trying to adjust to this, as the time has come for things to be different now. Brooke is married, and now has a child. It's probably time we, as grandparents, make the trek over to THEIR house for Christmas. Things don't stay the same forever, you know. And change can be good. Except I CAN'T go to their house, as they won't be there EITHER! Waaahhhhh! (Sniff, sniff.) <br />
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Brooke keeps trying to assuage my hysteria by saying, "NEXT year will be the fun year with Christian!" He'll be 6-1/2 months old at Christmas this year, and yes, she's right. This year, he really doesn't have a clue about it. But still, NONE of them will be here. Waaahhhhh!<br />
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However grim the thought of their absence may be, I do believe I am beginning to feel the Christmas spirit. I did get my tree up - we have an artificial tree - with no thanks to bad Louie. Every year, he and the tree are double trouble, and this year will probably be no exception. As I was fixing the branches and making it look beautiful, I happened to see something underneath the tree. And it was looking up at me. With eyeballs. Yep, BAD LOUIE was just sitting there, looking up at me even though he KNEW I really couldn't see him. He was hiding, you see. He just cracks me up!<br />
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And then there's my husband. My bah humbug, when it comes to Christmas. It just wouldn't be the Christmas season if I didn't hear, at least a hundred times, "Christmas has become a trick of the devil!" You see, he just HATES that he has to put up lights on the house. It's one of his worse things. But he does it because it makes me happy. That's just the kind of guy he is. And if I have to hear "it's a trick of the devil" a hundred times, so be it. At least my lights get put up.<br />
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So, even though Christmas will be different this year for me, some things will be the same. And that's a good thing. I guess I'll live after all.<br />
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<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-91393343404511027662012-11-22T06:31:00.002-05:002012-11-22T06:40:46.867-05:00Happy Thanksgiving!Thanksgiving Day. A day to be with family & friends; a day to express our gratitude; a day to eat ourselves silly. To all of my family and friends, many of whom I can't be with today, I miss you so much and would love nothing better than if we were all together.<br />
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I have so many reasons to be grateful, and it would take forever for me to list them all. Let me just list a few that are on the very top of my list:<br />
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I'm thankful for:<br />
A God who loves me, died for me, and saved me.<br />
Prayer. <br />
An awesome husband.<br />
Two incredible children, and son-in-law.<br />
One miraculous grandson.<br />
A beautiful home & plenty of food to eat.<br />
That my mom is not alone at this stage in her life.<br />
My wonderful family, whom I miss so much.<br />
The two most loving families that God brought into my life through marriage.<br />
That God always provides for me, cares for me, and will never forsake me.<br />
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May you each have a day that will be filled with the most wonderful blessings, and may you make wonderful new memories that will be forever cherished in your hearts.<br />
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<b><i>Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!</i></b><br />
<b><i>Karen</i></b><br />
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<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-46842124022944165442012-11-20T15:42:00.000-05:002012-11-22T06:29:58.962-05:00Book ReviewI have recently discovered a hidden treasure in my neighborhood: the county library! It's only a few minutes from my house, and it's full of books! And DVD's! That you don't have to pay for!<br />
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I have always been an avid reader, but just have not had the spare time to spend on reading. I devour books whenever I go away on a trip or vacation, as it's a sweet treat for me to spend time reading.<br />
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The local library is new to my neighborhood. And while mom could still read, it was a great way to get her some of her favorite books, anything by James Patterson. She is no longer able to read books, as she forget what she's reading and it's very difficult to sound out the words. So now, I take her there to check out the DVD's. And found myself perusing through the aisles and aisles of books.<br />
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The other day I came across a book just kind of laying on a shelf, certainly out of place. It caught my attention with its cover, titled "<i>One Thousand White Women, The Journals of May Dodd</i>". After reading the reviews on the back cover, I immediately knew I had to read it. I love reading about the old American West.<br />
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The author's note states this book is entirely a work of fiction. But the idea for the book was inspired by an actual historical event: in 1854 at a peace conference at Fort Laramie, a prominent Northern Cheyenne chief requested of the US Army authorities the gift of one thousand white women as brides for his young warriors. A terrifying new world was being forced on the Native Americans in 1854, and they clearly recognized this world held no place for them. They believed that the children born out of these marriages would be the perfect means of assimilation into the white man's world.<br />
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Of course in reality, the Cheyenne's request was not well received by the authorities, the peace conference collapsed, the Cheyennes went home and the white women did not come. But in this novel they do.<br />
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The author, Jim Fergus, brings to life an American West like I've never read before. His portrayal of the women, their conversations, their emotions, are so realistic, so true to how women think, speak, feel. And again, this was written as if it was 1854. I could feel their joy, sorrow & heartbreak when they did. I loved how the Native American characters were portrayed, and felt such shame, as though I had a part in it, as they experienced the betrayal of the white man. He actually traveled extensively in the northern Great Plains and really got to know the country he was writing about. He felt a tremendous responsibility to be as accurate as possible when it came to first learning about the cultures and histories of the Northern Cheyennes and Apaches, and then writing this into his story.<br />
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I did not want to put this book down once I started reading it. And at the end, I was sad it was finished. It touched my heart in so many ways. I went back to the author's note after I was finished, just to be sure I had read that this was a work of fiction. I felt it surely must be a true story!<br />
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If you have some time to spare and like to read, I highly recommend this book. It's actually a book I would like to have on my own bookshelf. Go check it out at your local library!maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-84413489281336836972012-11-17T09:39:00.001-05:002012-11-17T09:39:17.679-05:00Bob the Chef<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbF5LfqpVYJPzz8jG5y7tnBENQmTKXPkd4UfOn5cY0IcByHl1K1oWjexzrGhk3xtPBnyh5WcLH49E2mc0LU3ON7w0Sk0BbNxJ_cmdK5O2vtcRBEYwvElAonfab6hrzwioi4ZCzwQB8z6j/s1600/bob2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbF5LfqpVYJPzz8jG5y7tnBENQmTKXPkd4UfOn5cY0IcByHl1K1oWjexzrGhk3xtPBnyh5WcLH49E2mc0LU3ON7w0Sk0BbNxJ_cmdK5O2vtcRBEYwvElAonfab6hrzwioi4ZCzwQB8z6j/s200/bob2.jpg" width="112" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjis109BZqIToQIUpyDwn5-b7wTzTR6Wb-kTBrFnRVgxb87y8GGCS0Ua7waLGe-4HRxQUSflYdzfcbr2DvdyuvtcArAH8wykd8d8qVNMq8Z-JkkcnoX5Zrfhx82QnshoFn29RCq5oke5vsL/s1600/bob1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>It's a beautiful Saturday morning, and in my book, there's no better way to start my day than to have my husband cook breakfast. He doesn't do alot of cooking, so when he does it's usually breakfast and it's always eggs. Bob's Special Eggs. And that's ok, because they're really delicious and they have a special ingredient that only comes from him: Love. Love is definitely an ingredient, and food prepared without a touch of it just doesn't taste the same!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjis109BZqIToQIUpyDwn5-b7wTzTR6Wb-kTBrFnRVgxb87y8GGCS0Ua7waLGe-4HRxQUSflYdzfcbr2DvdyuvtcArAH8wykd8d8qVNMq8Z-JkkcnoX5Zrfhx82QnshoFn29RCq5oke5vsL/s1600/bob1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjis109BZqIToQIUpyDwn5-b7wTzTR6Wb-kTBrFnRVgxb87y8GGCS0Ua7waLGe-4HRxQUSflYdzfcbr2DvdyuvtcArAH8wykd8d8qVNMq8Z-JkkcnoX5Zrfhx82QnshoFn29RCq5oke5vsL/s200/bob1.jpg" width="112" /></a>I don't know exactly what goes into these eggs, so I can't post the recipe. He never makes them the exact same way and won't let me in the kitchen when he's cooking. He said it's better if I don't know! From start to finish, he's in control. Even the clean up. Well, most of the clean up. It's a real treat for me to have him cook breakfast. And Derek loves Bob' Special Eggs too, and always devours them.<br />
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I'll be in the kitchen later today, making Pumpkin Bread for the Thanksgiving baskets our church will be giving away; homemade chicken soup for dinner, and homemade wheat bread. Check out "Yummy-In-The-Tummy" section later on today where I'll be posting these recipes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbUG6iRcborPEuK1U7LFBQyhsE1uFP7J4feE150pQI-Qk7ArsMKkCtH_gf_tzoaK708i74PGUDMFeqm5b1FYVUIO2fX7VhUh5hxCcEKZ20zBR00gUcTuDK_mnzJ2V2zHk4j0A5GhgPe1t/s1600/eggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbUG6iRcborPEuK1U7LFBQyhsE1uFP7J4feE150pQI-Qk7ArsMKkCtH_gf_tzoaK708i74PGUDMFeqm5b1FYVUIO2fX7VhUh5hxCcEKZ20zBR00gUcTuDK_mnzJ2V2zHk4j0A5GhgPe1t/s200/eggs.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious-ness!</td></tr>
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I hope you enjoy your Saturday as much as I plan on doing! Except I think I have a head start on everyone else, as I've got Bob's Special Eggs to get me going!<br />
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<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539421508280191871.post-12233113922689655572012-11-15T06:50:00.002-05:002012-11-15T06:50:31.671-05:00<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUVOuDryl4mXiG9Tb-MJXnVhZEwYerQoOCy5tG4wzL-CxsAjlja-nzAj5QLbxqW6zMDvq_b6bvVdjtKM3gStVI43R8qezv-nLW8WzeKHyrHTjYIQIfmNltvsQaZHmHIcx9cHxNNynDOmG/s1600/mitty+jail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUVOuDryl4mXiG9Tb-MJXnVhZEwYerQoOCy5tG4wzL-CxsAjlja-nzAj5QLbxqW6zMDvq_b6bvVdjtKM3gStVI43R8qezv-nLW8WzeKHyrHTjYIQIfmNltvsQaZHmHIcx9cHxNNynDOmG/s200/mitty+jail.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat-sured!</td></tr>
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We've had a cat-nabbing here at our house. Not a kidnapping, because there were no children involved. But a cat was. Smitty. (Read more about him in "The Crew.") Abducted. Sometime during the night. He is being held for ransom. The perpetrators: the local pound. Yep, it's true. They posted his proof-of-life picture on the web.<br />
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All day Tuesday I was frantically searching for him. He stays outside at night, but usually sleeps in the barn. First thing in the morning when I wake up, he's at the back door ready to come in and get some grub. But he never showed up. And still wasn't home by time I went to bed. I knew something had happened to him, as he's older now and very predictable. We do have our share of wild critters out in this area, so I was very worried something may have gotten the best of him. A wild dog? A gator? Gators have been seen taking a stroll down our dirt road at night. I was very upset to say the least. This is a member of my family!<br />
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My daughter suggested I check the local pound. But knowing Smitty, I
knew he wouldn't have let anyone near enough to catch him. But just
before I went to bed, I remembered that traps are set out here to catch
feral cats. Hmm, maybe he got caught in a trap? So just before I went to
bed, I checked the lost & found and saw a picture
of a cat that looked just like him, but the description didn't really
match.<br />
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First thing Wednesday morning, off to the pound I went, and when the info was checked about where he
was found, it was true. I had found my Smitty! But, he hadn't been
caught in a trap set by the pound. He was brought in by a neighbor!
What?? We know most of our neighbors, at least the ones directly around
my house, and I knew it wouldn't have been one of them. We live in an
area where each home has some property, from 1-2 acres. Our neighbors
are not directly "on top" of us. Smitty had been roaming around here for
11 years, and doesn't cause anyone any harm. So who would trap him and
dump him off?? Apparently a neighbor on the street off my back yard,
three houses down. <br />
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So $60 later, I had my traumatized
Smitty in the car and we were headed home. I went for a visit to this
person's home later on in the afternoon, and found out she works at a
veterinarian office and had decided she had had enough of all the feral
cats roaming around so she set a trap. Of course she didn't catch the
big black tom cat that's been fighting with everything in sight. She
caught my Smitty, who is no trouble to anyone. I didn't get to speak
directly to her, but to her mother, who said she would let her know what
happened. She did feel badly. Probably not as bad as my poor Smitty
felt being in jail. <br />
<br />maneryderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14869611295901355074noreply@blogger.com0