Blueberries are the best!

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Originally uploaded by cher_ware

What else is there to say?

Spring, maybe

Here we are again, sort of... almost... maybe... it's going to be Spring!

I think...

Mr. & Mrs. Duck have returned for their fourth year of enjoying the fine cuisine served in our back yard: cracked corn spiced up with a stray insect or two. They've become quite fearless, and will even venture up onto the deck if we aren't outside. They've taken to flying in at least twice a day in the afternoon - and once they arrived in the morning.

I guess even ducks know an easy mark when they find it!

Our Neighbor From Hell has erected an all-but-invisible fence to a height of 12', and into which Mr. Duck accidentally flew on Saturday. He toppled pinfeathers over bill into another neighbors' yard, but was able to fly away. We spent the next day worrying about him since Mrs. showed up by herself, but by the afternoon he, too, was at the trough. We have noticed, though, that they now give the neighbors' yard a wide berth when they leave!

Addison spent Friday and Friday night with us, and Ada came over for the day on Saturday. Jim and I had carefully strategized for the weekend, given that clear skies and sunshine were forecast. We figured that the two kiddos, being much closer to the ground than Gran and Grandpa, could be bribed hired to pick up the copious quantities of fir cones that bury themselves in the ground around here during the winter.

At 5¢ per cone, we figured the incentive to work hard would be darned near irresistible. And we were right; the little rascals lightened Grandpa's wallet to the tune of $12.00 EACH! We've since had people from all over the U.S. offer to come out and pick up fir cones!

But it was all worth it; we had some fun with the grandkids, moms and dads got a break, and the kids got some sunshine, exercise, and spending money! (I'm thinking we should make it an annual event; Grandpa is thinking it could get really expensive!)


Sunday was another lovely day and Jim & I both worked hard getting things ready for our garden wedding in July. We've reset the steps through the arbor, planted dahlias and ranunculus, and finished setting a redbrick mow strip around the deck.

Our rhodies are beginning to bloom, as are the azaleas, and spring is definitely arriving in our garden.

I'm certain spring-like temperatures can't be too far away!

Give peace a chance

For the past several weeks, Jim and I have been watching HBO's series The Pacific, based on events in the Pacific Theater during WWII. I'm not really a fan of war movies (although Saving Private Ryan is one of my all-time favorites!), and I hadn't intended to watch this series. My plan was to read while Jim watched, but the story and the acting are both so good that I was pulled into it, almost against my will.


There's plenty of gore - after all, it was a war - but not gratuitous shots of viscera and body parts (although they both are shown as incidental to what's going on). Mostly there are young men who are uncertain, frightened, and - by turns - both brave and not-so-brave. I keep reminding myself that these characters are representing US Marines who are now in their 80s and 90s; the age my father would be if he were still alive. And, indeed, he did serve with the Navy Seabees in the Pacific Theater during WWII.


Lately, too, I've been thinking about my generation's war - Vietnam - and the young men who saw battle in other jungles and in other times. I remember how painfully young so many of those sailors, soldiers, airmen and marines were, although all of us certainly thought of ourselves as quite grown up at the time. I remember two years ago at the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial in our nation's capital. As Jim and I began our walk along the path adjacent to The Wall, unexpected and uncontrolled tears began streaming down my face. I don't recall that I was sobbing, but my eyes seemed to just be leaking copious tears. Jim asked, "Did you know anyone here?" and I replied, "I knew all of them." They were my classmates, my friends, young men I had dated, the fathers, brothers, husbands and lovers of my friends. Someday, there will be an HBO series about Vietnam, I'm certain.


Someday, too, there will be series covering the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. More young lives forever changed by the horror that is war. More minds damaged beyond repair - both physiologically and emotionally - coming home to a world that cannot comprehend how truly awful war is.


Following the attacks on the World Trade Center in 2001, I made it my daily practice to read the brief biographies of each of those who died as they were printed in my local newspaper. It was an act of respect for those lives lost, those who, in a sense, were stand-ins for me and my loved ones - for all of us in this country. And so, although it's somewhat outside my comfort level and I have to take frequent breaks because of the intensity, I watch The Pacific. I feel that, in some small way, I am honoring those who served in time of war, who fought for our freedoms, who came home changed - or who never came home. By extension, I am also honoring those who serve today - young women and men who probably never thought they'd really be on foreign soil facing deadly attacks by people who hated their way of life. The older I get, the younger they seem, until even those who are approaching great old age seem like children to me. Lives interrupted in the midst of becoming.


My only thought, my only prayer: No more, dear God. Please! No more!

Getting away from it all!

Last weekend, Jim and I took a long-awaited trip in our 5th wheel just to get away from it all. Between holidays, family, and some legal issues, we hadn't made an out-of-town trip since last summer.

We left on Thursday night for the Oregon Coast - our refuge of choice is just north of Tillamook at the Barview Jetty County Park - and arrived, along with the wind and rain, late in the evening. We didn't take time to set up since it was cold and wet, but had a bite to eat and fell into bed, rocked (quite literally at times) by the lullaby of the wind and rain.

Next morning, we got fully set up and drove over to the jetty to watch the waves crashing as they entered Tillamook Bay from the Pacific Ocean. There is nothing peaceful about this great body of water, but I do love the powerful forces of water and wind as the waves break across the jetty and on the shoreline. It's a far cry from the truly peaceful Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico that were the experiences of my youth.

I could watch these forces of nature for hours, and some people do - we always find cars parked facing the ocean when we make our trek to the jetty, and many of them are still there when we leave.

We made the obligatory trip to the Blue Heron Cheese Company where we purchased delicious Brie and bleu cheeses, and then drove up the coast to Rockaway and Flamingo Jim's for a little early Christmas shopping!

On Saturday, we drove South to Munson Creek Falls, where a short hike provided us with some of the incredible scenery - including some old growth forest - for which the Northwest is known. 

I do love this gorgeous state and feel so fortunate to live here!

We managed to visit a few local restaurants and enjoy the fresh halibut, clams, and other local delicacies (Oregon has some delicious wines!), but mostly we just relaxed and were thankful for some time away from the cares of the world!

But it's always good to come home.

Babies!

Last week was Spring Break here in Oregon. Addison and Drew's mommy took a couple of days off and we planned for a week that was a bit different - one that involved Drew's first overnight with Gran and Grandpa!


Briana - my d-i-l - thought it would be nice for her to have a special day to devote to Addison - the first day just for him since Drew was born last June - and I thought it would also be nice to have a chance for Drew to spend the night. Funny how it all works out sometimes!

Jim and I were very excited to have a baby in the house again. It's been so long since Addison and Ada were all cuddly and needed holding, and we both have missed that. So, I dusted off the Pak-n-Play, picked Drew up, and off we went!


She's a very good baby, and enjoyed having new sights to see and new things to explore. She had a bit of a cold and woke up a couple of times during the night, but always went right back to sleep. Needless to say, Grandpa and I thoroughly enjoyed having her over, and hope we can do it again soon!


Oh, and Addison had a glorious time at Oaks Park with mommy and daddy!


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We then had the joy of having Ada with us on Friday and after dinner we all went to the hospital to welcome our latest addition to the grandchild team, Felix William!


Isn't he cute?

A mothering moment

This morning, as is usual on Wednesdays, I arrived at Ben & Briana's house to spend the day being Granny Nanny to Drew. She and I have developed a routine to our days that satisfies both of us - most of the time! At almost eight months, she's very interactive and loves to laugh and play. She has a prodigious appetite, and makes noises the whole time she's eating. And when she smiles - well, as I described it to her mommy and daddy - it's as if her whole face breaks out in a grin! I love being with her and watching her grow, in the same way I've loved the time I've been with her big brother. I hope that Drew and I will share a closeness similar to what I have with Addison.

Watching these two grow frequently puts me in a nostalgic mood, and I sometimes recall the growing-up years of my own boys. Oh, there were lots of frustrations - anyone who's raised kids knows exactly what I'm talking about - but the frustrations were outweighed by the joys, and I'm always amazed at how quickly the years passed.

Ben, who is my youngest, fell victim to the lousy economy last Fall when he lost his job. He's a graphic designer, and incredibly talented. But we live in an area that is replete with talented men and women who are looking for work, so that makes it both more difficult and more likely that he will find a good job. In the meantime, he's had quite a few freelance jobs come his way, and coupled with Briana's resourcefulness, they're managing just fine.

This morning, though, well it was pretty special for me. Ben had an interview schedule for an actual employment position - hopefully with benefits - and he didn't have to leave as early as usual. When he was ready to go out the door, he kissed me goodbye and I wished him good luck. I looked at this wonderful young man - almost 30 years old now! - and my heart swelled with such pride it almost burst. He stood so tall and handsome in his suit - not the usual jeans and sports shirts graphic design-types usually wear, but a real suit with dress shirt and tie! As I watched him leave, I thought about how lucky I am to have had that moment with him.

Oh, I wish he hadn't lost his old job, of course. It was a good one and they tried very hard to keep him on, despite the economy. But I sometimes take his role as husband and father for granted, and - truthfully, now - I sometimes still think of the little boy who looked to his mom for comfort and reassurance, and I miss those days. Now he finds - as he should, and as I want him to - his main support and encouragement from his wife, and she's his rock. But this morning, just for that fleeting moment, when he said, "Wish me luck, Mom," I was very thankful to be there, to say all the things that you say to your kids when they're venturing out into a world that isn't always kind and welcoming. "Good luck, son," I said. "Try not to be nervous, and just be yourself. Who you are is the best advertisement for your work."

And it's true, whether he gets this job or another one. He is a genuine person, and I'm very proud of that.

Does this mean I'm OLD??!

I wasn't going to do this. I. Was. Not. Going. To. Do. This. Period. I just wasn't. Not ever. Oh, c'mon, you know what I'm talking about: discussing my aches and pains. It's just too darned old-personey. But since I know you're wondering where I've been, I guess I'll just have to give in and tell you.

The day after I returned from a weekend with my sister, I started having pain in my left leg. First of all, you should probably know that, in our family, the left leg is always referred to as "the polio leg." A legacy from my mother's bout with polio in 1950. Her left leg bore the brunt of the disease and the ongoing affliction. So my mom had a "good" leg and a polio leg. After many years of hearing it referred to that way, it just sort of rubbed off. Yes, you're right: we are odd.

Anyway, this pain in my polio leg was harshly reminiscent of the sciatica that I had suffered in my right leg (also know as my "good leg") until I had back surgery in 1998. The main difference this time was that the sciatica wasn't accompanied by back pain, and - after 24 hours of nonstop pain - I was starting to consider amputation as a viable treatment. See, the pain of sciatica is similar to what it feels like when you hit your funny bone; you know there's nothing funny about it. It's kind of electric and painful, all at once. But the sciatic pain doesn't stop - or at least not long enough to notice. And this time - another difference - the pain was starting mid-hip, radiating all the way down my leg, and going out - I'm not making this up - at my ankle. It really, truly, felt as if I could still feel it about three inches into the air around my ankle.

It hurt. A lot.

So, being quite adept at self-diagnosis and self-medicating, I decided that it was probably inflamed and I needed an anti-inflammatory. The best (non-prescription) anti-inflammatory I could come up with was aspirin. To my generation, aspirin still qualifies as a miracle drug. This, despite the bad rep it's acquired over the years. Those childhood lessons die hard! Yes, I know the dangers of giving it to children, and I am militant about that. But I personally have never had a bad experience with aspirin.

Since I fill the role of Granny Nanny to my 7 month old granddaughter three days each week, and add her 4 year old brother to the mix on Thursdays, I knew I needed to be able to function. I also knew I probably ought to go to the doctor, but could probably put that off till Friday. By Wednesday, the only way to keep the pain abated was with three (yes, you read that correctly) aspirin, every three (that, too) hours. Around the clock. I know it was around the clock, because when it wore off at night, the pain woke me up. So I just took three before I went to sleep, put three more on my nightstand for when I woke in the night, and then took three more upon awakening. Around the clock, like I said. Wednesday and Thursday. It was the only way I could keep from crying with pain.

Thursday I noticed that I wasn't hearing very well. When people spoke, the letter "s" didn't sound sibilant; it was as if it was being swallowed. And the blinker signals in my car were muted. But Jim had a cold that had gone into his ears, so I thought maybe I was catching it, too. All I really cared about was the pain, and I continued treating it.

Friday morning, I called my doctor's office. I must have sounded pretty bad, because they got me in right away. Normally it takes a day or two, but the scheduling nurse sounded really sympathetic. When I arrived, the nurse practitioner (superior to a doctor in many ways, in my estimation!) listened to my tale of woe and pain, asked all the pertinent questions, and began to prescribe. She asked me what I'd been taking, and I told her. I learned a long time ago not to lie to my medical professionals! Almost offhandedly, I asked her to please check my ears, since my hearing wasn't so good. She looked at me and said, "NO MORE ASPIRIN!" My ears were clear, but my hearing was shot. There really are warning signs on the aspirin bottle about that. But I'd ignored them.

So she fixed me up with Flexeril, Vicodin, and prescription-strength Aleve, told me to go home, take the drugs, and go to bed. And she handed me a sheet of exercises to help with the sciatica. I spent the next four days in a drug-induced stupor, mostly in bed, waking only long enough for bathroom, food, more drugs, and back up the stairs to bed. By late Sunday, my hearing was almost normal and the pain was mostly gone.

I stayed on a modified regimen of the drugs all of last week - taking only enough to take the edge off so I could take care of the grandkids - and did my exercises. Over this past weekend, the pain was relieved enough that I was able to prune my roses and even do a little shopping. Today I feel great!

I'm still taking the Aleve, since it's only twice a day and I have to take it with meals. I think today will be my last day with it, though. Oh, and I got rid of all the aspirin.

There, I've done it. I've gone public with old-age behavior. I hope you still respect me.