I’m coming out of a hole. Digging up. While in one I never comprehend the walls and floor are dirt. That the light is low. That communication is muffled at best. There’s no love, no laughter. Numb to everything else, I bury myself in ancient reruns and audio books and the rest of the world, myself included, is shut out.

It’s not until I stick my nose above the dirt that I recognize there is a world and it’s alight with living. Because whatever I was doing was not living.

Don’t think I’m bi-polar, since this didn’t start until sometime around or after age 55. Some holes are very bad and I can’t find my way out for a month or more. Others are short, as I believe this to be. How would I know, really, since there are no timepieces in holes. I almost wrote hell. Don’t know when I dig in or how long I languish therein.

Luckily, this wasn’t a sinkhole.

I bought paint. And new drapes. Clawing my way out, one purchase at a time. I buy, therefore I am.

I think this picture adequately describes my mood.

In other news, my long time stylist retired. Yes, I am bereft. Guess my long, stringy hair will remain that way…

I’ve been thinking about Mrs. Strauss.

Margaret Strauss was a intelligent woman with common sense and a spartan style in both speech and design.
A formidable force in my narrow young world, her friends called her ‘Lady’,a gift from her Papa after the early demise of her mother.  She carried that name throughout her life but I never called her anything but Mrs. Strauss, no matter how old we both became.

She and I first became acquainted when my mother went to work at her daycare center.  Childless, widowed, a retired school teacher as well as former legal secretary, she decided to open a daycare where children would be properly cared for as well as started on the right road to learning.  Forever into a project, She purchased and renovated a house across from the local grade school for her dream of the perfect early learning environment. She also lived in the house directly behind the school, her way of being close .  The whole deal was revolutionary in our small Texas town and quickly drew many parents wanting an alternative to the norm of daycare as they knew it.
The Carousel Child Care Center was open for many years, but I think ultimately she lost too much money just trying to do it right.
Continue reading “Lady” →

I’d intended this be titled “Love and Marriage”. Pretty trite, but upon waking at 3:00a that’s what popped into my mind. Along with: had I left the laptop bag in the back of the truck? So of course I did a somersault across Bree’s bed (which sits on the floor next to my side of the bed because that’s where she likes it) and ran into the living room to look… and of course there it sat.

And there was one of the points I’d hoped to make, illustrated. I don’t think men vault out of bed in the wee hours because something might not have been where it should – but I’ve done it innumerable times. They tend to stress about concrete things, whereas women can simultaneously worry about the concrete and the abstract. We draw things out, you see, to every logical -and illogical – conclusion. And it doesn’t even have to be about ourselves, husbands or our children. Friends, co-workers. What might be; what never will be but mightn’t it, in a perfect world?

Of course worry never changes anything and it only robs us of joy. Matthew 6:34!

This is not about worry; it’s supposed to be about marriage and the things that get you through, whether you’re conscious of them or not. Mike and I tied the knot 23 years ago at the courthouse in Homestead, Florida. Neither one of us were certain it was a good idea, but we were living together and he had a daughter in school, so. Did I love him more for the paper? Maybe. It felt different, anyway. More solid.

These are what I have come to know are needed in (my) marriage:

The first thing is respect. No, love is not the first. Love is a given. If you’re married you should love your spouse.  Holding your mate in high esteem is a wholly different thing, which should come with love but sometimes doesn’t. Respect for your spouse’s abilities, personal space, dreams, family and friends is a must. If your significant other doesn’t feel your admiration, then how can there be true love?

Humility. A tough one to learn, but I think it gets easier over time. Or harder.It is simply putting others needs first. Most mothers have mastered this, at least mine did.

Gratitude. The best of these; the most powerful. It’s my crutch, my way out at the worst of times and a path to peace… but I have trouble explaining it. I am thankful, no matter what. Thankful for the chance to know and love Mike, our life together. Every day I thank God for this life. Whatever comes, I pray that I can continue to be grateful.

Lately I’ve been wondering if I’ll make it out of Florida alive.

A new biopsy just came back as Basal Cell so there’s another MOHS surgery in the near future… and they want to dig a larger hole in my left foot… on a pre-cancerous spot.

This will be my second MOHS this year. The cancers are plentiful and aggressive… how long before the big one hits?? I’ve never known anyone who had these, especially so many. This can’t be normal.

Just… thank God the spot on my foot wasn’t the big M.  Thank God.

I want to cry. That’s probably an appropriate response to such news. I’ll be in my blanket fort if you need me.

Just dropping this here, because it’s a good thing to remember…

Healing nicely.

And yes, my hair is a bloody mess because I was trying to get it out of my wound. Pretty soon we’ll be able to call it a scar.