Homecoming Parade ... (Or, You Might Live in a Small Town If...)

Last night was the homecoming parade and pep rally at the high school.

You Might Live in a Small Town If...

You can stand in the middle of a major 4-lane street waiting for the parade to come to you...















You get a lump in your throat seeing the high school band kids march in their uniforms...
















The drums make your heart beat stronger ...















The Steppers ride on a flatbed truck ...
















One of the school mascots is part of the sophomore class float ...
































The junior class float includes more kids than actually worked on it...





















The Senior Class float includes a guy with a whip, and he's really not all that kinky...
















You can smell the testosterone rolling off the star football players standing like gods on a truck churning its way to the school...
















The FFA girls wrap their horses' legs in school colors and tie spirit ribbons in their horses' tails ...
















Cheerleaders, the band and proud parents worship at the feet of the players ...















Players take their place of glory at the top of the hill ...


















And the Four Tubas of the Apocolypse cast a mighty shadow ....















A mascot strikes a pose ...

































One of the football players will dance with any old woman with a camera ...






























The drummers steal the show with their Coyote Ugly drumstick acrobatics...


















































And even a spotted pup is welcome!

Quick post-and-run

I've been rather overwhelmed, but I'm taking a minute to post for my own sanity. I worked 52 hours last week. There are a couple of us in the office who have been really buried like this ever since I've been here. Two main reporters, and a couple of people who do the fluff and don't really help us carry the heavy load. I know, everyone's in the same boat, but it's wearing thin.

Yesterday I had a 7 a.m. appointment at the hospital with the diabetes educator. I learned how to use my meter to test my blood sugar, as well as the "stick yourself until you bleed!" tool. It's all going to be OK. The tool of bleeding is not a big deal. Just a little stick, as a nurse would say, and it's done so quickly you can't get all jittery about it. I'll be testing again in a few minutes -- just one test a day, and I'll be moving through the different test times to get a daily average. My number yesterday was much better than the horrible number from the doctor's office, so I have already made some major progress. (It was 178, down from something like 289 previously for fasting blood sugar).

I have lost two pounds, lost 2 percent body fat, increased body water by 2 percent. These are the good twos, not the terrible twos!

I am a little overwhelmed by the schedule of the diabetes education classes which I must attend. 9 am to noon on Wednesdays, for four weeks, beginning Oct. 31. Ye gads, that is a lot of missed work, right up to the day before Thanksgiving!

My first class is this Friday. Terrible timing. I have two other demands for my time then. I'm not sure how I'm going to juggle all this. GAH!

I did get a minute of puppy therapy yesterday. A woman who used to work in this office brought her puppy by to visit and I got a minute to play with her. She has grown quite a bit since I saw her a few weeks back. She's more the playing puppy now instead of the sleepy puppy who cuddled so nicely.

Oh, and I bought a dishwasher last night which will be delivered this afternoon. It's a portable that can be built in later when I have time to mess with getting new cabinets in my little kitchen. I don't know how we'll get it through all the clutter, but we will! I will have clean dishes again!

Scary Update

I had a follow-up doctor's visit today to deal with my diabetes diagnosis. For those who also blog at The Great Slim Down this is a cross post. I couldn't think of another way of saying this stuff so I'm just copying it.

The doctor's visit was not easy. In fact, it was very, very difficult. We went over lab tests from the last visit. To quote the doctor, loosely, death is reaching out to grab me. My liver is affected. My kidneys are affected.

She's added two more new medications to my routine for now and referred me to a diabetes educator. She's urged (demanded) that I start journaling. She's urged (demanded) that I find a support system of some sort.

And, what surprised me most, is she urged me to check out the principles of 12-step programs. Yes, she sees poor eating habits as an addiction and said I need to get sober.

She said I literally am in a fight for my life right now. That's a sobering thought.

She said that I need to journal and plan and pray each day to do my best, and then turn it over to God.

I could use your help with that part, please.

Oh, she also demanded that I start using my C-Pap machine again while I sleep, since I have sleep apnea. And we all know how I love that machine! (NOT)

Those left behind stay close

For each National Guardsman who is being deployed, there are family members left behind.

Chastity Rhoades of Marland, leader of the Guard's Family Readiness Group, and co-leader Brenda VanZandt of Osage County are working to make the next year or so as easy as possible for the spouses and children.

"When my husband was deployed five years ago, I was alone in Alva with nobody for me to talk to," Rhoades said. "I bonded more with the girls in Ponca City."

Her husband Michael went with the active Army in 1991 and in 2002 deployed with the Bravo Company from Alva.

"We have 100 women to get to know during this deployment," she said. "They all have their own perspective — the wives' perspectives, the mothers' perspectives and the children's perspectives."

It is often something their non-military friends can't identify with.

"Our friends who are not military can't really understand. They can feel for you, but they can't feel IT," VanZandt said.

Rhoades said the majority of the women in this group are young, newly married or they've moved up their wedding dates.

"We have several guys who are going to miss their child's birth," she said.

The Family Readiness Group is set up to provide support and information.

"A lot of women will need help with legal, financial and insurance issues," Rhoades said.

The FRG is trying to get a website built which would provide information as well as a social network for families which are scattered over a wide geographic area.

"We had one last time my husband deployed," Rhoades said. "If you woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep, you could probably find someone online."

VanZandt said they also are setting up a phone network to check on all the families from time to time.

"We are finding different ways of helping everyone, especially the young marrieds who are a long way from their families, so we can be self-sufficient while the guys are gone," VanZandt said.

She said they plan to get together every quarter to vent about their problems.

They also are working with the children's schools and setting up a buddy system for the children.

Since the Guardsmen come from a wide area, VanZandt said they are trying to make everyone feel at home during the deployment.

"We have so many people who are just here with us through the deployment," she said. "We want them to feel welcome."

Several businesses have helped create that welcome, she said, providing contributions of merchandise or service.

Among those who have opened their arms to the Guardsmen and their families are Ponca City Ice Co., Ponca City Discount Foods, Walgreen's, ConocoPhillips, Quality Water, Wheel Sport, Albertson's Distribution Center, Dorsetts in Tonkawa, Osage Trading Post, TPI Staffing, Tonkawa Indian Tribe, Terry and Shirley Pugh and Steve Struble of Joblink.

Many of these businesses and individuals have contributed items for care packages for the troops or postage for mailing packages. Others have provided goods and services to those preparing for deployment.

"A lot of times people's patriotism has gotten to me," Rhoades said. "People will come up to us if Michael is in his uniform and will offer to pay for our meal."

VanZandt said her husband Kelly often finds merchants offering him pop or some other small kindness.

Even with the work they are doing for other families, Rhoades and VanZandt know they will have a hard adjustment when their husbands deploy.

"Kelly is honestly my best friend in the whole world," VanZandt said.

Both women said the hours after their children are in bed are when they and their husbands were able to talk about their days and just cut up.

"That's when my story time is," VanZandt said. "That's when I tell him everything that happened during the day."

Rhoades said this time will be different for her and their children.

"Communications will be better than last time. I went five weeks without hearing from Michael," Rhoades said.

VanZandt, who is from a military family, said her husband's family and hers "pull up together real tight."

Rhoades plans to get an extra clock during this deployment which will be set on "Daddy Time" so the children will know what time it is there.

Both the Rhoades and the VanZandts have blended families. The Rhoades' children are Shane Kimbrell, 16, Jaymie Rhoades, 13, and Randie Rhoades, 10.

The VanZandts' children are Ciara VanZandt, 22, Brittany Garner, 17, Chelsea VanZandt, 16, Sierra Garner-VanZandt, 13, Cheyenne VanZandt, 9, and Chelsee Garner-VanZandt, 9.

Ready to Deploy

Army National Guardsmen assigned to the First Battalion of the 1-179th Infantry Company, affiliated with the 45th Infantry Brigade Combat Team, are packing up and preparing to deploy on a mission in Iraq.

The men and women will be at home with their families and at their jobs for the next three weeks to prepare for the year or more they may be gone, then will head to Norman where they will have their good-bye ceremony Oct. 18.

The Guardsmen then leave for Fort Bliss on Oct. 24 for training before shipping out.

Many of those who will be leaving are young men, barely out of their teens. Others are veterans of other deployments who have shared some of their experiences with their comrades during this preparation time.

They will be leaving behind brides, new babies, girlfriends, dying parents and all the other pieces of their civilian lives. And as they clean their weapons and pack equipment for their mission, they look forward to serving their country.

Luke Garrison, who just turned 23, works for First Baptist Church in Ponca City.

He will be leaving behind his wife Mary-Beth and their 7-month-old daughter Abigail Love. But unlike others in his unit, he's taking a large portion of his family with him.

Garrison's twin brother, Ben, and their 20-year-old brother Levi will be with him.

"It's not often you can take half your family to Iraq," Luke said. "We are leaving our parents and sister behind, and we tried to talk our sister into going."

Their mother is proud of them, Luke said, though not excited about their leaving.

"It is important to us to keep the three of us together," Ben Garrison said. "They were going to split us into three platoons, but our captain came through for us and kept us together."

The Guardsmen started hearing rumors of the deployment about the first of the year, Luke Garrison said.

"We were notified before our last annual training period in July," he said.

Once all the packing is completed today, the unit will be ready to pick up and go next month.

At least they'll be ready physically. They have the next three weeks to prepare emotionally with their families and to put things in order at their jobs.

"We'll be talking a lot and getting our finances in order," Luke Garrison said of the preparations he will make with his wife and other family members.

"There is nothing easy about leaving for a year," he said. "But it is our job. It's part of why we signed up. We do this so people back here can stay here and do their jobs and live free."

Ben, his twin, has worked as Tonkawa police officer for just under a year.

"I graduated from my CLEET training the day before we left for training," he said.

Ben has a girlfriend, Kali, who he has dated for about a year.

"They are all scared," Ben Garrison said. "Nobody wants to be left behind. It's harder to be the passenger than the driver where you are in control. At least we will know what we are doing and will have some control over our situation."

Youngest brother Levi was pulled out of college at the University of Central Oklahoma for this deployment. He had not yet declared a major, but said he was leaning toward public relations and politics. He has maintained a 3.7 grade point average and is a member of Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity.

"It's neat that we are finally getting to go overseas," he said. "We all stand together on the war. We'd much rather fight it over there than over here."

Levi, who said he is currently single, said he loves the unit.

"My brothers and many of my best friends are in the unit. We're a big family," he said.

When it comes to their own family, the brothers all said they are tight-knit.

"We like to spoil Luke's baby girl with our riches," Levi said.

"He has a baby that looks like she should be on the Gerber baby food jar," Ben said.

Luke Garrison said all three of the brothers are "Mama's Boys." The entire family are members of First Baptist Church of Ponca City, where the brothers, all baritones, sang the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" on July 4 while wearing their dress uniforms.

"The whole family is musical," Luke said. "We kept getting criticism from the kitchen and the bathroom about not being on pitch while we practiced."

Ben said the church recognizes troops each year.

"It's nice we have a church to back us," he said. "We have people who stop us and tell us they have us in their daily prayers."

—————

Each guardsman has a different story to tell.

Robert Smotherman, 34, is from Idabel in southeast Oklahoma.

He and his wife Lisa have five children — Ashley, Bailey, Nick, Jessica and Logan, ranging in age from 8 to almost 16.

"My daughter is almost 16. She thinks she's going to get to drive my truck while I am gone," Smotherman said.

Smotherman was deployed last year in Operation Enduring Freedom.

He was deployed for 15 months, with three months in Mississippi training and 12 months in Afghanistan. He returned in late April.

"I volunteered to go to Iraq after returning from Afghanistan," he said. "I had signed up for another six years. I figured the Army owned me and I might as well give them what they were paying for."

Smotherman said it was easier for him and for his family to make the choice to go.

"It is not as stressful for them that I'll be gone for 12 months. The stress for them will be in knowing Dad is going to Iraq and might not come back.

He spent six months in Kabul working in S3 operations.

"My last six months I was in Kandahar as a police trainer," he said. "I'm also a state-certified police officer in Oklahoma. We were picked to train Afghan police."

Smotherman joined this National Guard unit less than two weeks ago.

"I've never been with these guys before, so this is time for us to get to know each other and get comfortable. These guys have been training with each other for the last few months and I just got here Sept. 11."

This is Smotherman's third deployment, he said.

"I was in Egypt for six months in 2002 and 2003," he said.

"The National Guard needs all the capable people they can get to go," he said. "We're going to go and be there until we are done."

He said his fellow guardsmen are 100 percent dedicated and eager to get their training before their mission.

"We are doing what the country has asked us to do, and that's fight this war," Smotherman said.

—————

Specialist Bobby Evans, 21, has been with the unit for more than a year.

He is a newlywed who married his wife Lacie on Aug. 13, the one-year anniversary of their first date.

"We don't have kids yet, but we're working on that before the deployment," he said.

In his civilian life, he works at Rent-A-Center in Ponca City.

"This is my first combat deployment, but I did go down to work during Hurricane Katrina," he said.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he said of the unit. "We have a huge relationship outside of our training. It gives our wives people to hang out with.

Evans said he is planning to make a career of his military service.

"Our mission is so open, our training has been open. We are ready for anything that may come up there," he said. "That goes to our leadership. I wouldn't have gotten as good training if the trainers hadn't all been veterans."

Evans is another who calls himself a "Mama's boy."

"I've been watching my sister grow up. She's 14. We are seven years and 12 hours apart to the minute," he said. "We were both born on Dec. 23 at 5:13. I was a.m. and she was p.m."

They usually go out to dinner to celebrate their birthday together.

"It's not a huge birthday, but Christmas is always nice. It's kind of our day."

He said the main thing he will concentrate on during the next three weeks is hanging out with his wife, family and friends as much as possible.

—————

Leaving family and friends behind will be hard for all of those who are being deployed, but for Michael Semler of Drumright it will be a bit tougher.

"My father has cancer. They just switched his chemo," the 22-year-old said. "He and my old sergeant found out about the same time that they both have cancer."

Semler joined the National Guard when he was a junior in high school.

"I went to basic training that summer and went back to school for my senior year. I broke my wrist two days before I was supposed to return for training, so I got to enjoy some of that summer."

He has been married to his wife Jennifer since July 7. The couple has a son, Caden, who just turned a year old.

"We named him Caden Michael after my dad," he said.

"My aunt died a couple of years ago of cancer. She was 40. My dad is just 42," he said.

"I listen to country music a lot and they have all these kid and dad songs that are so sad."

Semler said he tries not to think about it too much as he prepares for the mission ahead.

"I haven't gotten too many details. All I know is we're going over there somewhere. I've heard 30 different rumors."

Just thought I'd mention this...

I've been invited to sing in Carnegie Hall in January.

More details as they become available.

A Thank-You to Tech

Tech, I want to thank you for your series of articles on diabetes. If not for you providing me with the best information I've ever seen on diabetes, I might not have been as persistent about getting a doctor's appointment last week. And if not for that, I would not know my blood sugar levels.

I'd mentioned that my previous doctor was less than forthcoming with information about diabetes and diabetes care. He never ran an A1C test on me -- just a fasting blood level test.

You mentioned your A1C level: "My last A1C result was 7.2%, which is a drop from my first test when my A1C was a whopping and deadly 8.4%."

When I read that the first time, I thought "Oh good, there's hope. Maybe mine won't be that bad and I can do like Tech and lower it."

Well. Today I got the typed results of my tests. I think it's a wonder that I lived long enough to go to the doctor.

My HBA1C was 10.8. Just reading that makes me feel woozy. Her hand-written note says "Extremely high. Need to watch sugars and carbs and increase exercise."

My blood pressure remains extremely high, although I have seen a decrease since last week, when I started a new BP med and Liptor combo drug. I believe the drug is the source of my paralyzing and debilitating leg cramps over the weekend, but she insisted Monday that I continue taking it. She also ordered calcium and vitamin D and some CO-Q10 to help with the cramps. I'm also pushing the water.

Tech, there's no doubt that if your 8.4 was a deadly level, my 10.8 was deadly, resurrected and deadly again. You are my example for getting serious and DEALING with it, not just ignoring it and pretending I can substitute a donut for orange juice and oatmeal. No, they are not equivalents!

So I thank you, for all the good information you've provided, and for the good examples you've set for behavior modification. If I put together all the pieces -- diet modification, exercise and medication, maybe I can pull myself together to last a little while longer. And if not, I have to start making some serious planning in accordance with my previous post. (Wouldn't hurt to get those things lined up for good measure anyway.)

I told you you had a future as a diabetes educator!

What's a little death among friends?

Note: This is some idle ramblings of my brain about the subject of death. Seems like I've experienced a lot of it, and, well, the issue has come up a few more times in the past week or so. And since it's been brought to my mind again, it's generated some thoughts. I don't want to be insensitive to any of my friends about the losses they have experienced -- that certainly is not my intention. Simply a few observations about the subject.

_____

One of my best friends from childhood has been left with the task of being the chief planner of her mother-in-law's memorial service this weekend. As with most families, there's the one who takes on the bulk of such responsibilities, mostly because nobody else is up to handling the details of securing a church, a minister, music and flowers. But the big thing they really are not up to handling is the cremation or burial of the deceased's body.

Long ago, when we were in the eighth grade, my friend and I formed a pact, which we still honor. Whichever of us survives the death of the first will be responsible for this job. I just learned that she's bequeathed her responsibilities for this pact to her children, should she predecease me. I, unfortunately, have no one to stand in my stead should I go first. Sorry about that, friend. But then that's why you have your children and husband, to take my place if it is necessary.

I'm not trying to be flip about this. I know it may sound like I am. But for my friend and me, death is just a phase of life.

I kind of imagine my friend going through the rituals of death the way they were performed in "Fried Green Tomatoes" -- the closing of the curtains, the stopping of the clock, the covering of the mirrors in the house. Old fashioned rituals, surely filled with superstition. Still, I find a little comfort in those kind of rituals that people used to be more involved in, like having a wake in the parlor. It's just the kind of thing she would know how to do. Certainly more real than the way most people die today, in a bed that doesn't belong to them, in which countless others also will die.

My friend and I understand a lot of the same things about death.

Our losses started young. We lost friends while we were in school. And when we were 21, we both lost our fathers the same summer, about a month apart. And we both were thrown into active duty, having to step up to do the funeral planning so others could grieve and avoid the trauma of coffin shopping and lining up singers. She also was involved in the funerals of grandparents.

Another friend, also as close as a blood sister, lost her mother when she was 15 years old. In my opinion, that's too young to assume funeral duty. Too much to ask of someone of such tender years whose whole life was ripped apart one stupid night.

I have to give her some leeway because of that trauma. It happened when she was young and basically left alone in the world.

The other night, I got an e-mail from her, obviously upset because we had not had the chance to have a conversation while she was in the U.S. briefly. She had some medical issues she had hoped to discuss with a friend "since I have no family (close or otherwise) to talk to."

Well, that stings me some. The fact is, she's married and has two sons. Granted, they are not the people she would or should turn to for some "girl talk," but they definitely do count as family, I would think. I'm not trying to play "one-upsmanship" here, but it was like she's forgotten that I really have no one. No family, no spouse, no children. I just wish her wording had been a bit more thoughtful perhaps.

And I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to talk, too. No matter who's lost how many loved ones, the truth is we've all seen enough losses to know that we need to love and protect the relationships we have.

One of my dear older friends from my previous church home contacted me over the weekend while her daughter and son-in-law were at her home. She wanted to ask me to put together a slide show of her life to be shown at her memorial service, as I had done for her husband. She ran down a list of everything she has planned -- she's paid for the cremation and is writing her obituary and now has me lined up for the slide show.

I know she's done all this planning and preparation to spare her daughter from having to do it from a distance when the time comes, but there's a little part of me that feels like she's depriving her daughter of something. Yes, it's painful to think about, especially when the person is still living, but in some ways I think funeral planning is a rite of passage.

It's not as cool as going to the prom -- but on the other hand it's vastly more meaningful. You don't get a corsage, but you get something better. It's your last opportunity to honor someone you love and cherish. And it's an experience which really pulls out every ounce of compassion inside you.

One other thing I've observed. There are two kinds of people at funeral times: There are rocks, and there are rivers. And we need them both. The rocks are the ones who can encapsulate their emotions long enough to get through the work. They are the ones who handle the details no one else can face. You can see in their faces that they are grief-stricken and heavy laden, but they save their tears for private times, usually late at night, when they have done their work and are bone-tired. Since they don't show their emotions while they're dealing with their responsibility, they are often seen as stoic and hard-hearted.

The Rivers, on the other hand, are the ones who take the lead emotionally, pouring out sorrow not only for themselves, but for the ones who can't do it then. They are the ones who will grab you and cry with you or for you until you're both soaked and snotty faced. You can also count on them to have the jumbo box of Kleenex.

Yes, we really need both kinds of people, and we need to lean on each other whichever kind we are. Depending on circumstances, we may play one role at one time and another at a different time.

I know which of my friends are rocks and which are rivers. When I do my own planning, I'll know who I want to do what, knowing which role they will play. I just want them to know that whichever part they play, it's OK with me, because I love them for who they are. And I know they will do their part well.

Lame, lame am I

If I were a horse, they would shoot me.

Last week when I saw the doctor, she put me on a new blood pressure medicine which contains Lipitor -- a two-for-one shot.

I took it for several days and then Friday night I woke up about 3 a.m. (I guess that would really be Saturday morning) with a leg cramp in my left leg. I whined and cried until I could get out of bed and try to stretch it out. I woke up again hourse later just fine.

Or so I thought.

I went out and pushed the lawnmower around a little in the back yard after I got off work Saturday afternoon. On one lap, I was all the way at the back of the lot, by the alley, when I got a killer cramp in my right leg. I could not move. I could barely stand. I could barely keep my grip on the mower handles to hold myself upright.

I feared falling, throwing up, falling, having the dog across the alley bark at me, falling, being found dead on the ground.

It took at least 20 minutes before I could put my foot flat enough to do the Frankenstein walk back to the back door. The walk took about that long, too.

Here it is Monday afternoon and I still feel like someone hit me in the back of my leg with a baseball bat. You should see the size of my calf where the muscle refuses to relax! I've called my doctor's office and left a message on the nurse's line to report it and asked for a call back (at 8 this morning.)

And I've declined to take my doses for Sunday and Monday until I can get checked out. Leg pain is a serious side effect of Lipitor. I took the drug separately for several years without much trouble, but I think that's not the case this time.

Stay tuned to this station for updates of General Hospital!

Why no photos of my house?

This is why. I've been here a month now, and the unpacking is just not getting done. My time at home has been so limited, I simply haven't had the time and/or energy for this job. Things went pretty well at first, while I was desperately looking for my laptop and my camera. Since I found those, the work has come to a screeching halt.

How do you like the box that says "This end up"?


(Clicky biggie)

An epiphany or two

I'm going to post this here, since so many of my co-bloggers have sort of given up the other blog we share. That's how much I want you guys to think about some of these things with me, OK?

So here goes:

New inspiration

I finally was able to go see a doctor today (Well, I guess now it's yesterday since it's after midnight.) I think it's been well over four years since I was able to see a doctor because of the lack of insurance. My new coverage just recently kicked in.

For once, I was pleased to see the number on the scale. It confirms that I've lost 14 pounds since we started this project together. If you think of all that has happened in that time, I count that as a good achievement.

You know what was great about this doctor's visit? No nagging about my weight! Yes, I need to lose more weight. I'd personally like to lose 35 pounds now. That is certainly a goal that can be accomplished, and with dedication, it wouldn't take long.

But in addition to not being nagged, my new doctor planted a new thought in my mind. Perhaps it's because my new doc is a woman, but when she talked to me, she had a whole new perspective that I've never gotten from a male doctor. (It also could be my age. Now that I'm past the 50-year-old benchmark, it could be that I'm in some golden-age group where health care is routinely handled differently.)

OK, so for whatever reason, it was the approach that has made all the difference to me with this consultation. Take the emphasis off the weight itself as THE PROBLEM. Instead, let's talk about it from the other side.

"We need to work on getting your blood pressure back under control," New Doctor said. "There comes a time in our lives when we need to start letting go of some of the things that stress us out so we can focus on the things that make our lives worth living."

READ THAT AGAIN. And a third time, for good measure!

It was an epiphany for me. Here's someone approximately my age, or in the ballpark, who is a medical professional, and she's giving me permission to slow down and stop killing myself. I don't have to keep running so hard any more to justify myself professionally or personally.

We talked quite a bit about taking life easier, downshifting to a slower pace and improving the quality of life.

We talked quite a bit about the fact that my dad died at 56 -- just four years older than I am right now. My brother died at 42. My mom lived to 74 -- which may seem like a good age, but consider the lineage on her side of my family... most all of the relatives on that side lived into their late 90s, except my mother and her sister. One great-aunt lived to 101.

I told the doctor that if I averaged it all, I probably could count on making it to 60, followed by a scared little laugh. Unfortunately I'm thinking that might have too much the ring of truth to it.

"We none of us get out of this alive," she said. "The trick is to make these years as good for ourselves as we can."

READ THAT AGAIN. And a third time, for good measure.

"It's time to slow down and enjoy the pleasures of eating better, of drinking better. To build a support network of friends and enjoy a slower pace of life. To GET BETTER SLEEP."

I emphasized the part about getting better sleep and what a key component this is in keeping our hearts healthy.

I have sleep apnea, but I am very stubborn and refuse to use my CPAP machine. Why? Because the doggone tubing easily comes apart during the night and blows pressurized air in my eye or my ear. Yeah duh. There are better tubing systems out there that are far more comfortable. I have tons of friends who have used them and speak with amazement about how much better they sleep when they use their machines -- how much more rested they are when they can actually BREATHE at night.

OK, so my brother died of sleep apnea and/or heart failure; my dad had a heart attack, my mom died of congestive heart failure. Gee, unless I'm hit by a bus or something, I can kind of see what's going to take me out, too.

New Doctor wants to repeat my sleep study to see what stage my apnea is at and what my settings should be on my machine, and we're going to look at finding some better equipment, something I can use comfortably, that will improve the quality of my sleep and maybe extend my life. What a concept!

And -- this is important -- she looked in my nose. Imagine that, a doctor looking at a patient's ability to breathe! She jumped back a bit and said "No wonder you have such a hard time breathing through that little nose!" Apparently it's quite the mess in there and isn't serving me very well. I asked if she could get me some rhinoplasty because I've always wanted a nose job. She quite seriously said that might be something we need to look at, because I'm not getting enough air through this defective part. Thanks for your genetic contribution, Grandpa Smith! She also prescribed a nasal spray to open up the little space I do have inside my noggin.

Before I left, they did an EKG, drew blood, and had me pee in a cup. They are going to take a good look at the labwork and the EKG and have me come back in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, she's put me on a new drug for my blood pressure which includes a dose of Lipitor for cholesterol, so I don't have to take more pills. Lipitor works wonders for me in controlling my cholesterol, so I'm glad to have that component back. I hope the blood pressure shows great improvement over this time.

I suspect, that with her help and compassion, I'll be showing some improvements all around before long. I think all of us do better physically when we think there's someone who cares about how we're doing. And that includes the weight issue.

After all, it's not the weight itself that we should be concerned about. It's what it does to our bodies, our quality of life, that matters. I think we've approached things backwards for a long time. We've turned weight into a shame matter instead of a quality of life issue.

This is what I want to change, for whatever time I happen to have left. It's time for me to slow down, let go of the stressors and love the life I've been given! And at 52, a Quarter Pounder and fries just isn't loving enough.

A weird sighting

I was washing the dishes this afternoon and lazily looking out the window when something caught my eye, about a foot above the ground. Something hovering there that I could not make sense of. I stared for quite a while to see if it would move on, and it didn't. It stayed in about the same spot, just hanging there.

I put on my favorite ugly slippers and went outside to see if it responded to me being near it, and discovered it was a dried up leaf, hanging stem-down in the air. There was no wind, but I believe gravity must still be working, everywhere but in that spot, apparently.

There is nothing above it -- no tree limbs or power lines above that spot. I could't see any natural reason for this leaf to be hanging there like this. I still haven't figured it out. But here's a photo or two, just so you can see my floating leaf for yourself.

Good Saturday Morning to You!

It's here! This is MY day!

There is a particular kind of day that I wait for every year. Sometimes I call it "state fair weather" -- my Oklahoma friends will know what that means.

It's that first day, usually in September, which heralds in the end of the blistering summer and the beginning of my favorite season, which is fall. Oh, in our heads we know it's still "summer," at least by the calendar, but we know the change is coming, and we welcome it with open arms. Sure, it means that just a short time from now we'll be complaining about cold weather, but for me, this is respite season.

It's early (for me) this Saturday morning. I let myself sleep in until about 7:30 when I could stand it no more. I was hearing raindrops falling against my bedroom windows and I could here the "ping" of the drops on the window air conditioner in the adjacent dining room.

I got out of bed, made my bed and put on my favorite ugly slippers. Then I realized that it was a little too cool and toddled in to the living room to turn off that air conditioner.

Now I am enjoying the view out my dining room windows, which overlook my back yard, all green and wet and looking thankful for the drink. Best of all is watching the streams of water running down the storm windows which seem to be a permanent fixture on the windows of most of my rooms.

Today I have to myself, so I will have the time to look around and notice those things, finally. I want to get more familiar with this house today -- give it a good cleaning, see if there are windows I can open a little today so I can enjoy the smell of the rain as well as the sound and sight of it. I want to see if the air is as cool as my eyes are telling me. Not cold, just a few notches down the thermometer from what we've been living with.

I'm in no hurry today. It's one of the rare times when I could have slept until noon or so if I wanted to.

This is just about the time to start thinking of planting some mums. I have a huge back yard (huge being relative, of course.) I'd love to start developing a landscaping design.

On Labor Day I set out to mow it. My great plan was to use the new rotary mower I had bought the night before. Eco-friendly, non-gas mower to reduce my carbon footprint, you know. I got it put together even with a drop-by visit from the Jehovah's Witnesses. They didn't stay long since I was working on my project. I think they might have thought I was going to ask them to help.

So as I was testing out my new machine, the neighbor across the street came over with his gas-powered mower, fired it up and started mowing my yard. Granted, I probably did look like I was having a stroke, but still, I felt a mix of gratitude with a dose of being cheated out of my plan. He was a good neighbor and saved me from myself, but also stepped on my dream a little without even knowing it.

Now that the yard has been cut, though, I am hoping to take a stab at keeping it maintained with the rotary mower. Maybe just a little every day -- a swish and swipe at the lawn, just to keep it under control. I still have the belief that I can do it and it will be good for me as well as the environment. Then again, there's that other small voice saying "Crazy girl, you know you can't do this when it's hot next summer! Get a mower now while they are on sale!" Maybe a riding mower, with a padded seat... just to make quick work of the job?

Eh, for now, I'm content to look out the window and watch the rain. The birds have come out of their hiding places now and are settled on the wires looking around for their breakfast, so the rain has definitely slowed down. Maybe I'll take my cue from them, pull on my jeans* and a T-shirt and go look for some breakfast. Maybe I'll amble over to the farmer's market at the Pioneer Woman and see what they've got this morning. I hope they're gathered today despite the rain. They would just be opening up about now.

Later I'll put on some piano music and see what the house wants me most to do today. I'll let you know what it tells me.

And later, I'll share some more stories.

*About the jeans... I am down to one pair that fits without sliding off. I've finally sorted through them all and set aside the ones that are too big. Today would be a good day to buy a couple of pairs to replace the ones I'm sick of fighting with.

I've Gone to the Dogs!

And so has the city's Ambucs pool!
This evening my little town had the Dog Daze of Summer Swim for the city pooches! Yeah, I get paid to hang out at the swimming pool, wading in the shallow end while wearing a skirt and blouse, taking pictures of the puppies large and small while they play. Here's a sampling:



















LAB TEACHES PIT BULL TO SWIM! FILM AT 11!

More from life its ownself

Another update for the evening... a few thoughts about connections.

I took a nap after my last post and was awakened by a call from the one cousin on my dad's side who makes an effort to stay in touch with me.
We are several years apart in age -- he's 68 and I'm 52. Hard for me to believe there's that big a spread in years. But the fact that he tries so hard to stay in touch means the world to me.
I hadn't yet told him that I had moved -- he got a number for me when he called my old house phone number. So I caught him up on that, and he caught me up on his job, and told me his wife had gastric bypass surgery and had lost 89 pounds, I think he said. She's a tiny thing now, I know that much.
I last saw him at our last aunt's funeral toward the end of October or in early November last year. We didn't have much time to visit then -- he's the kind of guy who has to walk off his grief alone, without talking about it.
And then he told me about our cousin Darla, the daughter of this aunt. Sometime since the funeral, she and her husband of 20-ish years broke up, amicably.
Darla had cared for her mother for many years -- Aunt Geneva had Alzheimer's and Darla had moved her to a nursing home near where they lived.
I suspect that once her role as caretaker was finished, Darla had the time to look around at her own life and realized it wasn't the life she had wanted, that somehow the marriage had emptied itself out over the years when she couldn't give it the attention it needed.
This happens, as we all know, far too often. It happens with marriages and friendships and jobs and all manner of human connection.
And then we all spin off into little cocoons, wrapped up in our own loneliness and pain and misery, feeling as though we could spin off into space unnoticed.
Sometimes, as Cousin Jim said, a person can spin off with someone else, before they even realize it's happening.
The ideal is to see the spin starting and stop it before it tears us apart. More often, though, we can't see the spin until it's turned into a tornado and flung us far away from where we thought we would be, always standing safely in the same place.
Change is hard, and often painful. Standing still, though, has its own pain.
We may not know what or who is waiting for us to show up, finally. We don't know who may be at our next stop, waiting to say "You've finally gotten here!"
We don't know if we'll ever hear that or not.
Sometimes being spun out of our spot tears us out by the roots and we can never be fully transplanted. We get torn out of the garden we know, hoping we'll wind up in a nicer garden. Instead, we may wind up dumped on the compost heap.
All I know is that we have to try to hold on to what is good and helps us grow to be all we can be. If we're blessed, we make that trip to or with someone who can help us grow, and whom we can help grow.
Some of us wind up going through a heavy pruning along the way, feeling like the shears have taken more than we can bear to lose. Eventually, though, we may glimpse a new root sprouting, if our conditions are right.
After talking with my cousin, I found a little tiny root taking shape on my own pruned branch. I got an e-mail from someone who had rediscovered my blog and a particular story I had written about a historic ranch that had a huge impact on this area. And this is a woman who happens to live not far from me now.
Her note helped root me in my history again. Oddly, she was remembering a piece I had written about the ranch, which I am now writing about for a state Centennial project. Her note, from out of the blue, pointed me right back to some information I had forgotten having, which I need right now for this new project!
I don't know how it happens, this phenomenon of coincidence and the universe working together to bring us what we need, most of the time. I just know that for a couple of moments tonight, I felt like I had roots forming again, and I felt tended to and loved, hearing from my cousin.
My connections may be thin sometimes, but as long as I have my Jim, I will know there is someone out there who loves me and makes it his job to stay in touch with me and remind me that we have the same roots.

Updates from Home

Howdy everyone!
Thought it might be time for another update.
My 71-year-old co-worker who has been acting a might mean to me has had a little change of attitude -- once I dressed him down and recited a part of my resume to him. He had said something the other day that just went right over the line -- something about "that comes with experience." This time I didn't just walk away from him. I said "Bob, this is not about experience. This is about you and Kristi not listening to me and giving responses not based on the question I asked. And as for experience, Bob, I've been in this business for 30 years ..." He stopped me there, not believing how long I've been working. I told him I was 52 and went to work for Big Metro Paper while I was still in school.

Funny thing. He thought I was barely in my 30s. Once he found out I was a fogy, he actually started treating me with more respect and has spoken to me much more pleasantly, now that he knows I'm older than his own kids. (Yikes.)

I've finally made an appointment to see a new doctor up here and get back on track treating all my ailments. I made points with another couple of coworkers who like to swap stories about how bad this or that is regarding their health. I asked them to recommend a doctor. Oh how they jumped at the opportunity!

The staff here is smaller than any department I've ever worked in. There's a lifestyles editor, an obit/religion writer, the county reporter, the business editor (by that I mean the woman who takes photos of ribbon cutting ceremonies.)

Then there are two sports guys, a "photographer", Bob the 71-year-old "city editor" (who is the guy who lays out the inside pages) and the managing editor(a brat) and me -- city government and education editor.

I've been here right at 3 months. I cannot imagine being here long-term. Covering city government and writing basically anything I want is all that keeps me going already. Sometimes that's great. Sometimes it's the best I can hope for.

I have another bit of controversy I'll be stirring up next week. It'll be another doozy, kind of in line with the toxic chemical spill of last Friday. I hear the big-city TV reporter that covers this area got chewed out because I scooped him. Too bad, so sad. La-la-la-la-la-- la!

This is one of the rare nights I am actually getting to fix myself supper at home.

Oh, a former employee came by the office a few days ago with a little bitty golden retriever puppy. It took about 30 seconds for me to have that puppy out of her hands and into mine. OH MY LAWD! It was soooo SWEEET and SOFT and CUDDLY! I held it right up against my heart and it just fell right asleep and felt like melted butter. Awwww!
Yeah, I'm bitten by the puppy bug. Must. Resist. At least for a little longer. Awwww!

I reached my limit

It's Sunday evening now, about 9:10 p.m. as I start writing. It's almost time for me to crawl back in bed. It's not that I've done anything strenuous today -- in fact, I haven't done anything heavier than a few loads of laundry. And seriously, that's not any harder than poking the clothes in the washer, pushing some buttons, going back into the house (my machines are in the garage), waiting, going back out and hauling clean clothes to poke into another machine and push a few buttons. After the button pushing comes the hardest part -- taking the clean, dry clothes into the house and hanging them up or folding them up and putting them away. It's a good time to discard the old, the stretched out, the holey or the clothes that can be donated because they are too big now.

And with the stress of this week I am feeling as though I, too, could be donated. Ah, but I'm more like the ugly argyle sweater that no one would take even if it's free. Yep, that's right, I'm feeling pitiful! Nothing new, it's sort of a chronic condition.

I'm homesick for my friends, and for my old house that is no longer my house; the one I spent 11 years MAKING my house. Oh well, I now have the project of making THIS house "my" house.

OK, so I've been in this house for three weeks now and have been staying in a stranger's house all this time. This is the first "at home" day I have had in months, and the first day I've taken to be at home here. I shut off the alarm clocks and slept in today. That's right, I missed church because God and I had an appointment here. He made me lie down. Not necessarily in green pastures, but in my bed.

It's been a hard week for me emotionally. A 71-year-old co-worker was ugly to me and said some things he ought not to have said. I've been stretched thin work-wise, and really was ready to get out of work on Friday with the great hope of not working on Saturday.

Right up at 5 p.m. I got a call about a creek where there was a chemical dumped in the water. The men in the yellow space suits were there vacuuming up the toxic mess and I went out to cover it -- photos and interviews of the landowner and the cleanup crew. They don't know what the chemicals were -- the sample is at the state Department of Environmental Quality. It's a couple of miles upstream of the lake that's our water supply -- not enough of the substance to be any threat to the water supply, but it could have been lethal to the horses that live on the property and the cattle on the pond next downstream.

I've had to do this kind of reporting a LOT in the past, so it's not something new to me. This time, though, I was dressed up -- sweater, nice skirt, pantyhose (YES! Dang PANTYHOSE!) and nice shoes. And I got into an area that had been vacuumed. After a while my feet and legs started stinging and I wanted to get home as fast as possible.

And I had dinner plans with my friend JT and his father, and I was late. Finally I got to the house, washed off the toxic stuff and changed clothes before I could finally meet them. They were very polite about waiting, which I really appreciated, but I felt very bad about making them wait.

Saturday on his way out of town JT stopped by for a little while to see my house. At that point I was feeling more miserable about the fact that I'm still not settled in. My car still has stuff stacked up in it from my temporary apartment.

So today I've stayed at home, feeling the full effects of my case of blues, sleeping late, eating whatever I wanted, pouting over not being able to connect my DSL and fussing to myself about buying a modem last night which so far has not done one thing for my benefit. I've even been listening to all the mopey music I can find.

Pout! Pout!! Pout!!! Whine! Why can't things go my way? Why can't I manage to get anything to work, or get someone else to make things work? WHiiiNEEEEEEE!

Time to see if the load of sheets is dry yet. I need to make my bed and cry myself to sleep. WHHHYYYYYYNE! Poor poor pitiful me.

And a fine good morning to you!

It's early morning, with the sun turning the sky silver and the birds waking up. I have a minute or so to post before I get ready for my day. I've already had my orange juice, trying to give my body some of the healthy things it needs.

I had a prayer answered last night. With all the strain of moving, I've been having some lower back pain which seems to like to switch from side to side each day. So last night before I went to sleep I prayed for relief. I immediately found a comfortable position lying on my back with my knees bent. This allowed me to press the small of my back into the mattress and poof, the pain was gone. I feel great this morning, too. In the wee hours I got up for a bottle of water. I know part of the pain is caused by being dehydrated. I need to pay much closer attention to my water intake for a while.

Another touch of good news. I went to Wal-Mart last night and checked my blood pressure. This doesn't sound like it should be a celebration, but it is, albeit a small one. For the first time in a couple of years, at least, my upper number was less than 200. Yahoo! Now that I've been at this job for a couple of months, I have health insurance again and need to make an appointment with a doctor so I can get back on my medications. Yahoo!

Yesterday was a little exciting. The city's board of commissioners went to tour Kaw Dam and I went with them. I can honestly say this was a new experience -- I have never, ever been inside a dam before. We were taken into the deep-deep parts of the dam where the turbines turn and the butterfly valve allows the water to do its work to create power. Very cool, very massive, very overwhelming. Also very hot. Heat plus wearing a hard hat is a sure way to get the worst case of "hat hair" ever. I was physically drained when we got back on the bus to return to city hall.

Today I'll be writing about that tour and another story about code enforcement efforts. I'm also mulling over my plans for another deep but secret story that will take quite a bit of effort and may be another FOI case. I also have some history to write for our state centennial coverage.

Time to quit listing and start doing. Talk to you later.

Oh, a quick note. Since I've been offline I haven't been able to visit some of my other favored blogs. Last night I had time to visit Posie Gets Cozy and was devastated to learn that the author, photographer and creative force behind the blog and her husband have suffered the loss of their Corgi, Audrey. Dear Audrey, who was a star of the blog, was found to have cancer of the spine and abdomen and in a move of compassion was not allowed to suffer any longer. Her people, Alicia and Andy, are mourning as are all of us who had the chance to peer into their lives through the net. Be at peace, dear Audrey. The world misses you.

Whoa, Nellie!

I've been working like the dickens trying to find certain personal treasures in all of my yet-unpacked boxes. It seems like I have been unpacking up to a dozen boxes a day ... maybe half that but it feels like 100. One of the most-sought treasures has been my computer modem.

AT LAST! Today I found it, and it was by pure chance and luck, or God's blessing. I'm thinking the last.

The church I've been attending (and which I probably will join in September) had a potluck lunch today. I was invited to come along, though I had not prepared anything to bring. They said that was OK since I'm still new. Their handbell choir was beginning rehearsals today and I really wanted to go. It started at 6:15. I made a deal with myself that I could go, but only if I finished getting EVERYTHING out of my temporary apartment. There were little dribs and drabs left, and I just had to get it done.

It amounted to about two cars-full of the most basic things one needs for survival. I had the second load packed when something told me I needed to check the "hobbit closet" -- a small closet with a door just my size (about 5 feet) which was tucked into a corner of the living room beneath the center stairwell.

I didn't remember putting anything into this closet, and I had completely cleaned out everything else, so I did a final look just to be sure.

WAH-LA, there was a plastic box in which I had put my modem, a router and splitter that I had once used to connect a couple of computers to one monitor and keyboard. Now I have been working hard trying desperately to find the modem so I could use my computer from home. Halleluyer!! There it was.

Problem is, I'm not sure I'm really correctly connected to MY rightful connection. The only connection I can get to work properly seems to be a nearby wireless connection that's not secured.

I've bought my own wireless router and really want MY connection all to myself, just as anyone would. But hey, if I have to piggyback tonight, I'm happy it's there. Maybe there's an answer to this puzzle somewhere in the mail I've let stack up this week. Before bedtime I'll glance at the bundle and see if I can learn something. I probably should write a few checks, too.

Anyway, for the moment I am typing to you from the card table which is set up in mid-dining room for now. I am totally unorganized, even for me. I've had a pretty productive weekend, complete with plenty of napping and time just for myself and my own interests. I did work for a while yesterday, but stopped at a reasonable half day. It was the shortest Saturday work time I've put in yet.

I know this isn't much of an update. Well, here's a little of what I've discovered in my unpacking frenzy: The people who packed me lack all common sense. A precious dresser set that belonged to my grandmother (delicate porcelain made in Germany about 100 years ago) was casually tossed into a box unwrapped, then topped with several books from my night stand. I am grateful it survived without a nick.

On the other hand, one box contained this item: A recently emptied Mr. Peanut jar (without the lid, mind you), carefully wrapped in layers of newspaper and positioned so it wouldn't get bounced around or bruised. Oh yes, the newspapers? Samples of my work, wadded up to fill the box. Thanks a lot.

Then there was a T-shirt, packed in another box, carefully secured in a metal pail that had been a media give-away treat. It was in a box along with some crystal boxes that held some of my small collection of jewelry -- sentimental pieces such as my great-aunt's ivory broach and a ring that a dear friend gave me one year when we were on vacation.

It made no sense at all to me, but it makes me fearful of a couple of other pieces I have not yet found. One is a tiny Chinese man carved from ivory that my mother had long before she married my father in 1953. It is tiny and delicate and very detailed, and if it is harmed I may hurt someone. The other is a vase that my grandmother won in a drawing in 1911 -- she had written a long personal history of the piece and tucked it down inside the vase. Let's hope they are both safely tucked in one of the many boxes still on the screened porch.

I wish I was finished with the unpacking. We had some rain today and I worry about some of the boxes getting wet where they are, but there is no place for them here in the house.

In other news: Work is going well. I have stirred up controversy with a series on restaurant inspections and a few stories about how poorly 9th grade students have been doing. My mind is already working on this coming week's stories. I do wish I could turn that off at will. I know my fellow journalists will agree that this is not possible, though.

I've been going through my old high school yearbooks. Many of my former classmates are on the boards and committees I cover. That's kind of fun.

Oh, a bit of irony. A historic home that was determined eligible to be on the National Register of Historic Places missed out because the mayor and city commissioners decided to go ahead and put vinyl siding and new windows on the house at the request of the garden council, against the recommendations of the historic places advisory panel. Well, just this week, about two weeks after that decision, Laura Bush announced that we are now a Preserve America city because we value our historic buildings and our community's history. We're now eligible to apply for grants to maintain our historic places. The grants range from $20,000 to $150,000 I believe. Another touch of the ol' irony is that the niece of one of the commissioners earned her Girl Scout Gold Project by helping the city apply for this designation. Said commissioner voted against preserving the historic home in its original state. Yep, he's a vinyl siding kind of leader. I hope he appreciates this kinky twist!

There will be more to come now that I'm connected, by hook or by crook.

Oh yeah -- bell choir practice was fun. These bells are much lighter than the ones from my previous church, though. I about let my bell fly the first time I rang it. It will be hard to relearn how much effort it takes to ring.

Well, my friends, it is about time for me to head for bed. It's already 9 p.m.! I've become a real old fogey, it seems, being in the "early to bed, early to rise" camp for the first time ever. I real never thought I'd be able to overcome my night-owl tendencies. I am sleeping much better now that I'm out of the temporary apartment! That place really was giving me the heebie-jeebies. Did I mention that the upstairs neighbor just blithely walked into my apartment the other day because I had the door open trying to load out a few things? Didn't even knock. I think she had intentions of seeing what was left and deciding if she wanted to help herself to it. YUCK!

Can you believe it's been this long?

I was skipping back through my blog this morning looking for a post from the past about pork tenderloin. Imagine my surprise when I realized my bloggyversary is coming up this next Thursday! It's not the first anniversary, or the second, but SURPRISE! It's anniversary #3!

It is hard for me to fathom that this circle of friends on the web have been linked together that long. E.R. over at Erudite Redneck is the one who got me hooked. Countless others have contributed to my blog in various ways and even more out there have inspired me or touched my heart with their own blogs.

Here lately my blog has not been what I want it to be. Time and life has gotten in the way, especially the past couple of months, but I have hopes of recharging this and making some changes. It's time for me to shake things up here, the way the rest of my life has been shaken.

No time to get into it this morning, because I have to write up the police and sheriff's report for the Sunday paper, and there's a parade in 45 minutes. I'll be going to meet with a pair of guys who were co-drum majors in their class as they watch the parade together today. Now, at 58, they are scattered to other places, but one last hurrah with today's parade.

Stay tooned to this station!

Hello, old friends!

It's been incredibly busy for the past week or more. I know it's been a good long time since I posted last, but I've gone through some H-U-G-E changes with very close timing (I wouldn't quite say split-second timing, but for a while there it was down to a matter of minutes of getting everything through at the right times.)
Quick summary: I had to do a special back-to-school section at work last Wednesday -- it really got dumped on me and was more than I could handle, all things considered and with a big dose of BAD timing. It was a 24 page section for which I had to write all the stories, take the photos and put the pages together. My boss was sick the day it all was going together. (Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but that's another dramatic story). My hope was to leave town at 5 p.m. Wednesday, but I didn't even get out of the office until 8:30 p.m.
I also had the final walk-through on the house I was buying and went to the pre-closing. Everything was set on this end; just waiting for the closing company on the old house to wire the money Friday to complete this transaction.
Thursday I was anxious to get to the preclosing on the old house. But I had to see what my insurance company would cover on the roof, which had to be replaced in order for the buyer to get the house insured. The agent had faxed me a statement Wednesday night while I was still at work and told me he'd have a draft for me Thursday morning. I picked that up at 9:30, got it in the bank and went to the closing promptly at 10 a.m.
Of all the closings I've ever been to (and I've owned 7 houses now), this was the most interesting. It was almost a party atmosphere at the title and abstract company, with happy people shaking hands, smiling and positively giddy about their transactions. The waiting room was full! And then...
Mr. Chicken came out in full birdy regalia. Actually, it was the Schwann's man who was having to do a chicken promotion and was forced to wear a chicken suit. He had customers who worked at the title company, and hey, what better way to keep the kids in these families entertained while the parents did their transactions? It was great fun. My closing took three minutes and I was out of there.
Had lunch Thursday with my best friend and her mom, who came up from Dallas just to help pack up some of my things. Now I ask you, isn't that great? It's one thing to have a friend or friends who are willing to go through such torture for you, but when the mom shows up and packs about 6011 boxes of books for you, that's some kind of angel at work.
Friday the movers came and loaded up the truck. I finally had a meltdown when it came time to load out the garage. I just could not take it one more second and just shut down emotionally and physically. I told the guys I was just going to have to walk away from doing the garage. They were good enough to go ahead and load up the things they KNEW I would need to take (crappy neighbor had stolen my mower, so that was one less thing.) Anyway, I was waiting to hear from my Realtor to make sure the abstract company had wired the money to the abstract company in the new town. The company handling my purchase was having all kinds of technical problems with computers and other stuff and could not confirm the transfer.
At one point I had to pull off the highway onto a dirt road and pull out my briefcase from the back seat to get the contact numbers so my buying Realtor could call the selling abstract company.
I arrived in town about an hour later and called the Realtor again to see if the wire had come through. She said she would meet me at the title company. Just as I pulled up, the movers called to say they were in my new house and wanted to know which bedroom was going to be the master. I had a fit! Not only did I walk past the title company door and try to go in the wrong business while I was distracted, but I had to tell this guy I didn't even have a key yet and how did he get into the house anyway?
Well, turns out the back door had been left unlocked when the plumber came to fix the outdoor faucet.
I sit in the title company for another 20 minutes before the FED number came in to confirm the wire transfer. My closer came running out with a paper for me to sign and the keys to the house.
By now it was close to 4:20 p.m. The movers had unpacked half the truck already. They were really hauling!
At 4:50, I got a call from the title company saying they had finished writing my check for the balance owed to me (the excess from what my old house sold for that was above what I paid for the new house.) I got there at 4:59 after the movers finally got on the road, and got it to the bank across the street promptly at 5 p.m. It was a miracle of timing, because there are no extended hours at small-town banks!

I've been unpacking boxes like a possessed woman since last Friday, trying desperately to find my laptop and camera, which they packed without telling me. I finally found them tonight. Now I just need to find my little box that has the modem and all the wires and I'll be able to be online from the privacy of my own new house! I haven't been able to do that for two months!

I'll catch up more later. These are the high points for now.

Congrats, Tech, on all your good fortunes with the new book! Can't wait for payday so I can order my own copy!

Keep up the good work on your house, E.R.

Frenzied, thanks for letting people know I was still kickin'.

Everyone else.... I hope to hear from all of you again soon, and will be back in conversations with you before much longer! I can't wait! Too much has happened without me knowing!

Oooooh! Scary!

You want proof there are ghosts? Watch this video then, and tell me you don't believe! It's terrifying!
Ghost caught on video

Some People Don't Know When They Are Winning!

Tonight I attended the Park and Recreation Board meeting. The board is an advisory panel to the town's City Commission.
It was a HOT meeting tonight because the big issue on the agenda was consideration of a plan to build a BMX track and skate park. There were 16 teen-age boys there with their skateboards in hand. They were doing fine, listening to the discussion, until they got bored. Actually, they didn't get bored until two idiot mothers who hadn't been paying attention to the fact that their kids were winning what they wanted started mouthing off about "why can't we use so-and-so's big parking lot they never use it the kids have no place to play life is unfair."

Um. Duh. Check the minutes, please. A panel of adults had JUST finished presenting a proposal for the perfect location for both interests, in a city park near the edge of town where visitors to the city could easily congregate for BMX events -- city, regional and national events. The city is even agreeing to provide aerial photos and help the sponsors lay out the track. The City Manager promised it! There's already a junior baseball league that meets and plays in this park which has been interested in expanding a baseball field on the far side of the park, away from this proposed track and skate park. Every possible thing sponsors presented was agreed to. The park panel just asked the apparent leaders of this to come to the next meeting with enough of a plan that the panel could vote for a motion to present it to the City Commission with enough information and enough of a plan to get it passed.

Yeah. OK ladies, repeat after me. When you are ahead, shut up. Stop talking about how you just moved here from Perry where they couldn't get anything going for the kids there EITHER and they let an application for a grant expire. Hello! Listen the the old bald man who JUST said "This is a great idea and the best plan that has been presented. The location is well suited for this and the outlay would be minimal for the city. If we had to buy land, we probably would not be able to do what we can do in this park for you. It's a win-win situation."

Mom the Second, who also apparently has hearing problems, pipes up to say "So who is in charge of making this decision? I mean, who is the man who says yes or no?"

I refer you back to the old bald man you just interrupted. Just hush, OK? Don't start moaning about how you give your kid $20 in the morning, tell him to get something to eat and drink, and then don't see him until it's supper time. I'll call DHS on you if you don't just hush, OK? You're WINNING. Bald man is THE MAN to get you what you want if you're smart enough to listen. So LISTEN!

Despite these two intrusions, the plan will go forward to get the kids and the adults who are behind them everything they want. Several members of the panel are actually going to take their weekend and drive 250+ miles round trip to go to Yukon to see a BMX competition and get a better idea what a track takes and how the operation can be successful. In late August we're going to see a skate park company bring a sample park to town and set it up on the parking lot behind the library so the kids can try it out and decide what kind of materials they like the best and the advantages of concrete and modular systems, so they get what they want most!

OK ladies, quit asking about the abandoned school tennis courts. They've been turned into teachers' parking lots. They aren't what your kids want and need for skateboarding. Let us build them their dream track, OK? We want them to have a place to play, too. Ask the old bald man. He still has the scar from the time when he nailed his skates to a board and rode it down the spillway at the lake. Was doing well, he said, until he hit the sand at the bottom of the ramp.

God does provide, don't doubt!

OK, this is nowhere near on par with the tragedies in Darfur or any other atrocities.

It's just a simple lesson in trusting God in our daily lives to meet our needs. He gives us all we need and most of what we want, I've discovered.

Every single time in my life when I've been down to my last dime, so to speak, I've trusted God's providence to keep me going. He has never let me down. Whether it's remembering I have a piggy bank seeded with $1 bills and filled with quarters, or finding a stash of canned soup I had forgotten, He has gotten me through those lean days until payday.

It happened again this week. I had gotten the news that I have to replace the starter switch on my car, which will take at least one paycheck in the very near future. My new bank account is running on vapors until my check comes on Thursday.

I visited my original home church, the sanctuary where I was baptized, on Sunday. The good folks there invited me to join them for an indoor picnic after the service. I ran into people I knew 35+ years ago AND got to eat a real live, old-fashioned church dinner, with all the salads ever known to church cooks and plenty of fried chicken.

When I got home, I found enough quarters on my dresser to do two loads of laundry, enough to last a couple of weeks, hopefully until I get moved to my new house. At any rate, I felt like I could conquer the world if I have clothes to wear to work.

When the last drawer was closed after putting the clothes away, I remembered that a dear friend had given me a $20 gift card from Wal-Mart when I moved. Blessed holy day! Groceries for the week!

I had no doubt the week would go well once I had groceries in the fridge and cupboard. I am set.

Then Monday night I came home and found a $50 check from my insurance company -- a dividend!

God IS good! All the time!

And thanks, God, for public libraries, public sidewalks, churches, free cell phone calls and the U.S. mail. I'm so grateful to be in a place where I can walk just about anywhere I need to go, and to most places where I want to go. Life is good!

This will make moving easier!

The woman who is buying my house is interested in some of my furniture. I asked her to make a list. She says she is interested in all of the living room furniture, all of the dining room furniture and all of the master bedroom furniture! Yahoo!! There may be a piece or two in that mix that I want to keep, but Yahoo!!! I'm trying to talk her into wanting the large armoire in my office, too. Hee hee -- that one piece (which is two pieces) will be a bear to move, I'm afraid.
This sure cuts down drastically what I'll have to load up and move!
Now, is anyone interested in buying a bunch of boxes that have been packed up? They are ready to go to the highest bidder!

Guess what I did after work yesterday?

Well, first, I picked up my sick car. I can't afford to get it fixed right now.

Now, yes, I know this statement will make the next statement sound ridiculous, but really, honestly, it's not.

I made an offer on a house. Yes I did. The house went on the market yesterday. I may be the only person who has seen it.

Why? you may ask. Well, because I need someplace to move my stuff to when I close on the sale of my house. And I need desperately to get out of the temporary apartment. Especially after having my sleep interrupted again at 2 a.m., and 3 a.m., and 3:30 a.m. today. I grow weary of neighbors stomping over my head and their children crying and them playing loud music in the middle of the night. And I weary of trash raining down on me from the balcony.

Plus the house is well suited for my needs. Nice house, nice neighborhood, convenient location, inexpensive. It's a two-bed, one-bath mid-century special. It has a tandem garage and carport. The wood floors have been refinished; the interior repainted (I still may have to choose my own colors and do that over in the not-distant future.). Good storage. Kitchen and dining room. And a nice screened porch on the back which is well shaded in the evenings. The front lawn features two glorious huge trees which provide nearly constant shade.

I wrote my offer last night and am waiting for a reply from the sellers. It is a block from the main north-south street and three blocks from the main east-west street. Ten blocks due east of my office. Walk, bike or drive, it's all good. It's about the same distance from the library and city hall as I am currently. Just on the opposite side.

So I did this now so I'd have a place to move to. My hope is to take off Aug. 2 and pack a moving truck, then close on the old house in the morning of Aug. 3, have the money wired to my bank account in Ponca City and close on the new house at the last appointment on Aug. 3. Then the unloading of the truck can commence.

I also need to talk to the buyer of my house to see what furniture she may want to buy from my house. She's indicated at least a couple of things, but right now I'd happily sell her everything that is not a family heirloom. More sold, less to move!

Keep your fingers crossed that the right thing happen!

Enough of the bad stuff, please!

OK, so now I have neighbors in the two upstairs apartments of my building. Perhaps I should say pigs have moved in. This people on both sides are the epitome of white trash! I hate saying terrible things, but that's the only way I have of describing them. The people in both apartments seem bent on making life miserable for everyone else -- throwing trash off their balconies and never picking it up, carrying on loud cell phone calls on their balconies, as they tell whoever is on the other end just how miserable they are living here because of "those people," and worst of all, neglecting their children.

Seriously, I don't know how people can live this way and expect life to be good. I'll spare you the details. Just suffice it to say I'll be glad when I can move to a house of my own again.

Speaking of which, after being ripped to shreds by one of the monster neighbors yesterday while my lunch grew cold, I went out to look at houses -- again. I saw one that was good and drove by several that I'm interested in seeing in more detail.

However, while I was out my car developed problems. A major headache, actually. It kept dying on me and wouldn't start without this weird contortion of holding the key in the "start" position and popping the car into gear. Then it would just randomly die on me. First the radio would nod off, then the air conditioner would take a nap, and finally the WHOLE car just fell asleep. Nothing worse than a narcoleptic car!

Well, I took it to the local Honda dealer. He called me just a bit ago to tell me I need a new ignition switch, which is about what I figured. Then he asked if I was sitting down.

It's going to cost $630 to put in a new switch. That knocked the breath out of me! I've got about a week and a half before my next payday and not much left until then. Somehow I have to come up with the money before Aug. 3, which is the day I close on my house!

I suppose I can try getting a short loan from the bank. I don't like that, but what are you going to do? Well, I guess I could just hang tight and rent a car to get to Oklahoma City . This is all confusing me because I haven't had time to sort out all that I am thinking about.

I also need to figure out moving. Where? When? How? GAH!!!! Maybe I'll just sell my furniture and put the money in my pocket (and then in the pocket of the car guy.)

Someone throw me a lifeline, please!!! I can 't even think straight.

Since I had to work Saturday, I wound up writing 17 stories as well as police and sheriff's notes. Today I've written 3 stories and 90 inches of police notes. I thought that was pretty good until the publisher came out to gripe at the editor in charge that that was a LOT of police notes. He was not pleased. I don't know what would have been the right thing to do. I didn't even get to the sheriff's notes.

Tonight I have a Board of City Commissioners meeting and the Board of Education. Commissioners start at 5:30 and Education at 6. I've never yet made it to the Board of Education meeting. Why did they assign me to cover both of these beats when they know they meet at the same time every time!?!?!?!

Like said before ... someone throw me a lifeline! I need chocolate.

Oh. Now it's pouring rain. My car is a couple of miles away. I'll have to take a company car to the meeting(s) tonight. I hope it stops raining before I have to walk home this evening, even if it is just a block.

I think I need a nap. And chocolate.

I sold my house!

I had the offer in my e-mail this morning! The buyer wants to close by Aug. 3. So I have just under a month to find my own new place!

The buyer is my Realtor's assistant, so basically she was making an offer before the sign ever went in the yard. Before I knew about it, she already had been pre-approved and had a written good-faith estimate of her costs. She made a good, fair offer and she may be interested in buying some of my furniture to boot, like the corner units in the dining room. I would like to sell some of those things so I don't have to move them or figure out just how I'll use them in a new house.

This is a positive turn of events after discovering my lawnmower was stolen. Two neighbors saw the same two men in my back yard and I confronted one, a neighbor a couple of houses down. Anyway, his lies kept getting more and more fantastical the more he tried to cover his backside.

Well, off to the library to print out the contract and put my signatures on it, so I can keep this ball going. I'll also be checking out the newest house listings so I can start my renewed search.

A funeral under guard

Never in my life have I attended a funeral that was heavily guarded -- by city police, Oklahoma Highway Patrol and the Patriot Guard.
My young friend Derek, killed in Iraq on June 23, was buried today. As promised, members of Fred Phelps' Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, KS, were present. They were kept out of the boundaries around the church to protect mourners from their vile spewing of hatred.

On each corner of each of the church's parking lots, Oklahoma City police cars were positioned to enforce the boundaries and as a sign of respect.

Motorcycle squads from the Oklahoma City Police, the Oklahoma Highway Patrol and the Patriot Guard passed by the front of the church in progression before the beginning of the service. Huge American flags streamed from the rear cycle of the Patriot Guard's squad and yellow ribbons were tied on all of the motorcycles. The reverberations from their engines was palpable, resonating in the chests of all within the immediate vicinity.

Derek, who was like a nephew to me and the closest I will ever have to a son of my own, was well loved by all who knew him. That was apparent from the packed congregation at South Lindsay Baptist Church this morning.

Before the family was seated, members of the Oklahoma Army National Guard filled the left front section of the sanctuary. Other sections were filled by church members, Derek's pals and school mates, friends and other loved ones of the family.

Here's the newspaper story on the metropolitan newspaper's web site this evening:

By Jay F. Marks
Staff Writer
A hero was laid to rest this morning as hundreds of people at South Lindsay Baptist Church mourned the loss of Army Spc. Derek Alan Calhoun.
Calhoun, 23, was the last of four Oklahoma soldiers killed in Iraq in a three-day span last month.
Pastor C. Wayne Childers said Calhoun's family joined the church at 3300 S Lindsay in Oklahoma City 6 months before he was born.
"Derek was not just another soldier,” Childers said. "He was one of ours.
"He was a Southside boy.”
Childers said the church's congregation gave Calhoun a standing ovation after he got his orders for Iraq.
"That's how much we respected and loved this young man,” he said.
Calhoun, an armored tank driver, died in Baghdad on June 23 after a Humvee he was riding in struck a bomb.
He is the 62nd service member from Oklahoma to be killed in Iraq or Afghanistan since the ongoing war on terror began in October 2001. Nearly 4,000 Americans service members have died in that time.

-30-

Several times during the funeral, the congregation rose in one motion, spontaneously, out of respect for Derek and his service. In all honesty, there was little that was serene or peaceful about this service; how could there be? But there was respect and love overflowing; memories happy and sad and proud and painful. His uncle, my partner for more than six years, put together a slide show of photos chronicling Derek's life. Many of them were photos I took early in Derek's life; others were at family gatherings I attended. I could relive those days all over.

Despite three songs by a soloist, two preachers giving homilies and eulogies, a message from an Army representative, the photo presentations and the painful wailing of those assembled, the service seemed to end in relatively short order.

The trip to the cemetery, however, seemed endless. Before the hearse and family car were prepared to depart, two motorcycle officers cleared a path for a federal van which tore down the street at a high speed. That was alarming to witness; I couldn't tell if it was the Guard leaving ahead of the family to prepare their positions at the cemetery or if there had been an arrest of the Phelps gang. I want to think it was the Guard.

I was in about the middle of the procession. From that vantage point I could see that the line of cars covered nearly three miles. At every single intersection along the route, a patrol officer or trooper blocked traffic, giving this hero clear way to his final mission.

People from the neighborhood around the church lined the streets for several blocks, holding large American flags, standing with hands over their hearts, for the full length of the procession. Even miles down the road people who had been working in their yards stopped, stood at attention and knew a hero was in their midst.

At the cemetery, mourners were greeted with the Patriot Guard which circled the grave site with huge American flags. Veterans stood in formation to honor their fallen brother and the Army National Guard were in place for their role.

There was the playing of Taps, a 21-gun salute, the presentation of the flag to his mother and father, and the presentation of many medals, a posthumus promotion from Specialist to Corporal, and his dog tags. A bagpipe player ended the ritual by walking off away from the assembled while playing Amazing Grace.

Family and friends held on to each other and sobbed uncontrollably. Derek's uncle asked for me and we spent many minutes folded into each other, crying to the point of not being able to breathe as others passed through the line before the casket to pay their respects to the family.

Finally, with grief exhausted for a time, the family gathered to watch the lowering of the casket. They graciously included me in this final goodbye, and invited me to join them back at the church for lunch.

The memorial which started at 11 a.m. ended about 3:30 p.m. I'm grateful to say there was a limousine at the door to take the exhausted family home. They would not have been able to drive themselves.

Derek, my dear boy, you are loved beyond measure here where we are missing you, but what greater measure of love you are receiving in heaven today. Well done, thou good and faithful servant.