Memorial Day to the Fourth of July ~ Part I

No blogging has been done since May!  I’ve had a lot going on, so today, I hope to catch up just a bit.

Just where DO I start?  It seems that so much has been going on in my world since the first of 2018 that I just have not had the time, the energy, or the inclination to blog about anything.

Mid-May to Memorial Day

In mid-May, I flew to Utah for to attend my grandson Bridger’s graduation from high school.  I had the most wonderful time celebrating him and his accomplishments and spending time with family.  

Bridger, the youngest child of my oldest child, my son Ryan, is one of those very special kids that has always brought joy to each person he meets.  Honestly, I’ve never met anyone who knows Bridger who doesn’t comment on what a special person he is.  His genuineness comes through in every conversation.  He’s an adventuresome kid with a great personality and good looks.  All of that only takes you so far.  Thankfully, he is also very smart and he is a hard worker who is self driven.  He plans on attending Utah State University in Logan, Utah, next year.  I’m very proud of him and can’t wait to see what the future will bring to him.

Grandma Sally with Bridger Bridger on the big screen Son Ryan with Bridger and Daughter-in-law Sheridan

I must admit that some tears were shed when Bridger graduated.  When he tried on his cap and gown, he gathered up his gorgeous curly long brown hair into a thick pony tail as he looked into the mirror  and contemplated how the cap would stay on that head of hair.  As he gathered up his long locks into that thick pony tail, I saw the nape of his neck and instantly saw the exact same looking curls as my daughter Julie had at her neckline.  I then saw a pony tail just like one she would make on hot summer days. Those unique similarities caused me to become overcome with emotions.  I sobbed.  I must admit that I hated bringing a sad reminder to such a time of joy, but that is how grief hits sometimes.  In the tears, I rejoiced that Bridger rocks that beautiful mane and knew that Julie would be so proud of his hair and would say that they were genetic twins when it came to hair.  

I thought of the photo I had of Julie holding Bridger right after he was born.  She was living in Salt Lake at the time with Sheridan and was attending the University of Utah.  Now, eighteen years later, Julie is no longer with us to celebrate this occasion, but Sheridan is now married to Bridger’s father and Sheridan is the one assisting him in his graduation dress rehearsal.  Sheridan met my son at Julie’s memorial service.  I will always be so grateful for the deep and treasured friendship that Julie had with Sheridan that resulted in Sheridan joining our family.

And then, there were more tears on graduation day.  Sheridan has loved Bridger so much and has so loved being his mom that she is really having a hard time with him graduating and going on to college.  Her great boys, Max and Henry, are also a bonus that this family gained when Ryan and Sheridan married.  Max, Henry, and Bridger are as tight as any brothers you will find.  Yes, the smile on Sheridan’s face is bright and beautiful, but her eyes had great big tears falling from them.  Mine did too.  There is a lot of joy and love in this celebratory photo.

There were other great family times that I was able to have while I was in Utah spending time with my daughter and son and their families.  Times like these are treasures.  

Son Ryan, Sally, daughter Keicha, and grandchildren Gillian Bridger & Regan.

I stayed in my very first Airbnb when I went to Utah.  The place I found was in Layton, Utah, which is midway between where my son lives and my daughter lives.  I loved staying in a place that became like a home away from home where I could stay up as late as I wanted, or go to bed whenever I wanted.  When I got up in the morning, it was great to have a kitchen where I could fix breakfast and make some coffee.  Also, I loved having a comfy couch where I could read, visit, or rest after a hectic day with the family.  This won’t be the only time I use Airbnb.  

Memorial Day is always a difficult time for me and for my family because my daughter took her life on May 29, 2010, on the Friday before Memorial Day.  My children, and those whom love me most and are always the most supportive, know just how hard that weekend and the days surrounding May 29th are for me and family.  I received many texts and calls from my family and friends asking, “Are you ok?”  Or, “I love you.  I am thinking of you.”  I so appreciate the gestures of kindness, concern, empathy, and love.

Most years on Memorial Day I go to the cemetery to decorate the graves, or I try to do a special activity to honor Julie’s memory. This year, I decided not to do any commemorative activities, but instead, I decided to take the day as it came while practicing self-care.  

On the 26th, I took some time to record my thoughts.  I said I was raw.  My emotions were fragile.  I recorded how raw I looked and how raw I felt.  In the rawness, I also recorded how I was rejoicing because I learned more from the great loss of a daughter about love than I ever could have learned any other way.  

On that day, the 26th of May, I also rejoiced because I had yet another day and another summer to look forward to with hope and joy.  I took the day to begin planting a bit more in my impossible garden.  I had flowers to plant.  That always brings me joy.  In my devotions for that day, I was reminded that the Lord’s mercies are new each morning.  I reflected on beautiful scripture card that I keep on my desk.

I love this verse.  I am held by One whom will keep me from stumbling.  What comfort this assurance bring me.

On Memorial Day itself, May 28th this year, we had a picnic in our little village where we live.  The day was warm and sunny.  A neighbor and his wife graciously set up tables in their driveway and in the garage where all of us in our HOA community could visit while eating great picnic type food.  It marked the official start of summer.  I was more than ready to see the season arrive.

As I toured my yard trying to decide where to plant flowers I had to snap a photo of this poor little tree because in many ways, this poor little tree is a perfect representation of the kind of winter I had.  

I planted the tree, a more mature Alberta pine, last fall because I didn’t want to wait for a smaller one to grow.  I had planted a smaller Alberta pine four or five years ago, and it had never been nibbled on by deer.  I observed that mature Alberta pines were thriving all over the neighborhood.  I even saw this label at a local nursery: 

The label gives the name of the tree that I planted, and it states that it is good choice to buy because it is deer resistant.  

I guess the deer in my neighborhood can’t read.  Or, maybe they haven’t had access to the labels and lists that inform gardeners about “deer resistant” plants.  

Several factors figured into the demise of this tree.  We had a terribly dry winter.  The poor deer were starving, and they were thirsty.  My tree was most likely the tastiest looking tree in the neighborhood.  It had been well watered, and the needles must have looked tender and moist and appetizing.  My tree became a food sources for desperate animals.

Desperate creatures do desperate things.  I felt like that tree through most of the late winter and and early spring.  I felt events beyond my control, and people within my family of origin structure chipping away at me.  I felt attacked and stripped as others nibbled away at me when I found myself in a situation I did not create and was powerless to change.  Yep, that tree represented a lot of what I was experiencing this spring.

Quite honestly, during this time, I just didn’t feel like blogging.  I did a lot of journaling.  Writing always helps me when I am going through troubling experiences.  Writing in my journal helps me because by writing in my own personal journal I can record my thoughts, experiences, reactions, feelings, and emotions in a safe place.  Writing gives me a sounding board.  Writing also allows me to sort out all of those thoughts, feelings, and emotions that assail during times of loss, stress, joy, change, or tension.  Writing gives me a chance to reflect, to reconcile my emotions, and reflect upon what is going on in my life.  

Somehow, I got through the difficult month of May.  During the month of May, I also was able to celebrate the graduation of a dear grandson while also having the opportunity to spend time with children and grandchildren.  May brought time plant some flowers, and to spend more time out of doors rejoicing over the beauty found in my neighborhood.  This hillside is just around the corner from my home.  

Just a mile and a half from our home is a beautiful spot that was once a sanatorium.  It is now a retreat center, a nursing home, and the setting includes a cemetery and a church.  I love to walk on the grounds. Truly, I am grateful to live in this beautiful part of the world.  Spring, summer, and fall, I enjoy walking in the special places.  

On the very last day of May, I stopped for a late lunch after running errands and had a serendipitous meeting with a high school friend, her husband, and friend of theirs when they happened to eating lunch at the same Panera where I stopped.  We all lunched together, shared stories and laughter and marveled just how amazing life can be when we have chance meetings and are able to spend time together in rich conversation.

All in all, while the winter had been a rough one for me, and while May had certainly had its low points, it also mostly had some wonderful moments filled with love, family, friends, and milestones.  

More later.

On Seventy ~ Reflections on Becoming a Septuagenarian

Last year about this time, a dear friend and I met to write.  We spoke of our upcoming seventieth birthdays.  We thought we should take the year to reflect on the milestone event that would soon be upon us.  What lessons would we learn as we approached the eighth decade of our lives?  What, if anything, could we learn about life before we became septuagenarians?

Having read many of May Sarton's journals over the years, I went in search of her book At Seventy: A Journal.  I knew I had read it before, but found I had gotten rid of it when we moved.  So, off to the library I went to find it for a re-reading.  Interestingly, I found little insight in this particular journal.  She did determine that during her seventieth year, she would journal for one entire year.  I thought I might try to do better than that.  I toyed with the idea of writing fifteen minutes a day for one year.  

We are now twenty-one days since my seventieth birthday.  Needless to say, I have not written everyday.  I have however had some reflections on reaching this milestone in life.

In At Seventy: A Journal,Sarton wrote, 

How is seventy different from sixty-five?  I don't see much difference, except that time accelerates.  The days go past with frightening rapidity, and so do the years.  It is plain that I am not ready for old age!  But then time does not stand still for old age I fear.  On the contrary, from all reports, it simply flies away, and that is what I am beginning to notice.  

Did her words ring true?

Is seventy different than sixty-five?

I thought I might take a look back.

What was my sixtieth birthday like?

Wow, talk about time accelerating.

My grandchildren were not teenagers when I was sixty.

Time simply flies away...

Mason was six and Hannah and Atticus were two.

I could hold the two younger ones in my arms.  Now they are all taller than I am.

I ventured up on the trampoline the day I turned sixty, just to see if I could still jump.

I could.

It is plain that I am not ready for old age! 

60th birthday

I was excited to turn sixty-five.

Having officially retired at age sixty-one, I was still working until sixty-five for insurance benefits.

At sixty-five, my medicare coverage kicked in and I was thrilled.

I felt good.

I was healthy.

True retirement was something I was looking forward to with great anticipation.

I had much I wanted to accomplish.

On the day of my sixty-fifth birthday, my high school girl friends gathered at my home.

It was a planned gathering that happened to occur on my birthday.

Here are some photos from that day.

The group photo, my photo at age sixty-five, and a few of the girls.

One cannot reflect upon reaching the eighth decade of life without remembering that dear ones have been lost along the way.

On that day of my sixty-fifth birthday, we could not know that

before the year was out, my girlfriends and I would lose Judy, our dearly loved classmate.

She had been fighting cancer, but she was well and looked so good that day.

In the photos above, she is sitting in the place of honor, the gold chair. 

Sadly, she did not reach the milestone the rest of reach this year of becoming

septuagenarians.

I also lost my dear daughter during my sixty-fith year.

She died three months after my birthday.

For half a decade, I have learned the meaning of bereavement.

At seventy, I am much different than I was at sixty-five. 

Mark Twain shared his wisdom at seventy:

I have achieved my seventy years in the usual way, by sticking strictly to a scheme of life which would kill anybody else....I will offer here, as a sound maxim, this: That we can't reach old age by another man's road.
Mark Twain

My life was pretty simple in many ways until I hit sixty-five.

It was filled with some sorrow and disappointments, but mostly, I was quite pleased with the path my life had taken.

My children were grown and it seemed they had launched successfully.

I had just retired from a profession for which I still held great passion.

I thought I would continue to teach some, write some, travel some, and garden a lot.

Grief took away many of those plans.

In the past five years, I think I have come to think more deeply about what is most important in my life.

Also, I refuse to believe that just because I am seventy, I am old.

I prefer the following quote over Mark Twain's.

The first forty years of our life give the text, the next thirty furnish the commentary upon it, which enables us rightly to understand the true meaning and connection of the text with its moral and its beauties. 
Schopenhauer

The commentary on my first forty years won't be recorded here. 

(Let out a sigh of relief for that!)

At forty, would I ever believe I would be where I am today?

No, never in my wildest dreams would I have known what was in my future.

That is a good thing.

Along with the loss that I have suffered, I've know great joy.

I have been richly blessed.

As I reach seventy, I've learned I have treasures I always longed for when I was younger.

Today, I will touch on several treasures that only get better with age.

The Treasure of Friendship

There is great beauty in sharing the lives of those I knew before I knew much about life.

I made wonderful friends when I was a young, very naive teenager.

Now, the great gift of life is that I get to enter the eighth decade of my life with these dear women.

They gathered at my home last weekend.

Every time we get together, we hug on each other like long lost friends.

We laugh.

We share our stories.

We poke fun.

We encourage.

We know what we have is precious and rare.

We celebrate each other and the group.

This time we had several with us whom either have never joined us before, or live far away.

We have 50 years to catch up on with these few.

Kathy and Elaine, seen over the ham I cooked,

came early to sweep my doorway, 

set up tables,

keep me calm and focused,

and show me they are there to remember what I forgot.

We held a planning meeting so we could plan our big

Seventieth Birthday Party

that will be held in September.

We will go to Glenwood Springs, Colorado for three days of celebration.

I call our trip that we are planning 

Our Senior Trip.

The ladies heard of room rates, things to do, and dinner plans as we held our

Senior Meeting

in my living room.

Did I hear someone is bringing a case of white wine?

Someone else is bringing a case of red wine?

Goodness.

Watch out.

The true golden girls are getting ready to celebrate.

The Treasure of a Loving Husband

When my milestone birthday was drawing near, I knew I wanted to celebrate it in a special way.

I didn't want a party.

Who wants to clean the house?

My birthday falls on February 28, so it is not a good time for the children to come from out of state.

They have jobs and kids that keep them busy in February.

The weather is unpredictable.

Instead of a party, we decided we would go to Florida to celebrate my birthday.

I've known my husband as long as I've known the girlfriends whom I just wrote about.

Just like the laughter and the memories that I share with them, I share such wonderful memories of days gone by with my husband.

He has been that one that has always been there for me.

Even when I was a young woman, I knew the young man I first dated fifty-four years ago this week would make me laugh.

I knew he would always show me respect.

I knew he was one I could easily honor and respect.

I knew he would be a gentle, kind, understanding companion.

I knew he would give me a good life.

I just didn't marry this dear man until I was forty-seven years old.

Sometimes, youth makes one stupid.

Sometimes we get wiser with age.

At least, this man, the one I love, and I got together in the end.

Never would I have believed back in those days that at 70 Jim would be at my side.

Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that.

Thankfully, he is here with me.

At sixty-five, when my life turned upside down, he was there.

At seventy, we acted like a couple of kids at Disney's Magic Kingdom.

We walked around wide eyed and forgot that our bodies were aging.

We laughed ourselves silly on rides that we maybe shouldn't have ridden.

Thankfully, neither of us had a heart attack.

Jim took a selfie of us just before we went for one of those crazy rides.

On Valentine's Day, two weeks before I turned seventy, my love and I walked on Daytona Beach. 

Now here's something to celebrate:

We both are septuagenarians,

but we still love to have those romantic moments on the beach.

We met as teenagers, and we get to enter the last years of our lives together.

Life doesn't get any better than this.

A Valentine's Day Kiss 2015

I'm learning this at seventy:

The older the fiddle, the sweeter the tune.
Irish Saying

The Long Weekend

It began Thursday evening.

Already, everyone I encountered out in the marketplace was saying,

"Have a good weekend."

"And so it begins," I thought.

"Memorial Day Weekend is upon us again."

By Friday, I had a sort of mixed anxiety running through my mind.

I was excited to have 

the long weekend

 that has always signaled the beginning of summer.

I dreaded

 the long weekend

that would forever mark the loss of my beloved daughter.

"You really hit us with a double whammy, Julie," I thought.

"We don't just have one anniversary date of your death.

We have the actual date of your death 

to deal with,

and we have a holiday weekend, when your death occurred

to deal with."

When the greetings came,

"Have a good weekend,"

I simply composed myself and said, "Thank you."

I needed all the good wishes I could get.

Jim asked what I wanted to do for the weekend.

"I think the best plan is to keep busy," I replied.

On Friday,

we went flower shopping and got my small little garden planted.

This year my garden will be pots of flowers.

I supervised the removal of much rock, the roots of Russian sage that invaded the property, and planned in my mind how I would plant the new planting spaces being created around our new home.

Our new gate for the deck.

On Saturday

we went to a matinee at wonderful old theater downtown to see "The Great Gatsby."

We loved it.

On Sunday,

We went to church.

The hymns for the day were just what I need to hear, sing, and ponder.

"ONLY GOD"

Only God can move a mountain; 

Only God can calm a sea.

Only God can heal a wounded spirit...

"O LOVE THAT WILL NOT LET ME GO"

O joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee;

I trace the rainbow through the rain, and feel the promise is not vain,

that morn shall tearless be.

A photo of Julie, Amy, and Me The painted rainbow rock that Julie painted for me when she was a child

During communion, I was renewed in my spirit and thankful that my faith has sustained me through all of the days before and after Julie's death.

I am grateful for the great measure of grace that God has given me throughout all of my days.

After church, Jim and I took daughter Trinette and her husband to the airport.

It was wonderful to see this beautiful couple off to Florida for a small "honeymoon" after all these years of marriage.  Trinette looked so young and beautiful and so excited.

We then went to the cemetery to leave flowers on Julie's grave, and on the grave of my father.

On Monday,

we went to the small little town of Monument just a few miles from our house.

Jim wanted to check out a coffee shop/cafe that was there.

Serrano's was great!

My sister met us there.

We had a wonderful lunch and visit. 

We spent much of the weekend walking in our neighborhood,

sitting on the back deck,

socializing with neighbors,

and enjoying the beauty of the world that surrounds us.

Today,

May 29, 2013

marks the third anniversary of Julie's death.

I'm going to lunch with my dear friend, Linda Button.

Dr. Linda Button Sally Wessely presenting at CCIRA Conference 2013

Linda has been there for me as a friend, sounding board, encourager, and sustainer throughout these three long years.  I treasure her friendship.  It is unbelievable that we now live in the same town and attend the same church. I don't know what I'd done without friends like Linda these past three years.

I try to keep my memories of Julie alive and well.

I find that in my mind, Julie belongs to another realm now.

Without my wanting to, I've assigned her to another domain.

She seems to be a part of a life that no longer exists.

A part of me died when Julie did.

Does the death of a child ineluctably cause a part of a mother's heart to die?

There are days when the clouds fill the sky and threaten storms.

In those moments,

I am reminded 

that the sunshine follows the storm,

that rainbows bring hope and symbolize promises,

that with each spring there is new growth.

I've not walled off that broken heart.

I'm allowing it to heal.

I am moving forward.

This weekend,

I focused on

living.

For those of you who wish to remember Julie

I'm adding two videos.

Watch them later in they are too real of reminders of that beautiful woman that we lost.

In Memory of Our Beloved Jules

April 8, 1976 - May 29, 2013

Julie & Mason

Mother's Day 2008

Julie & Hannah

Mother's Day 2008

Community ~ The Value of Social Networks

Social butterfly, was a term my family always used to describe me from my earliest days.  My earliest memories are ones of getting on my tricycle, riding around the city block on which we lived, and stopping by to visit with the neighbors.  I would visit from one house to other, collecting cookies and stories along the way.  Stories were shared with other neighbors as I worked my way around the block.  I did not know it then, but I was, at a very early age, learning about the value of social capital.  In a sense, I was using that social capital to allow information to flow, bonding to an age group that was much older than I, and establishing my identity as an individual and as a part of my community.

I remember a college textbook used while I was in college in the early '60's that spoke of the tricycle path that led to social connections between the adults in newly forming suburbs.  The paths that lead to social connections have always been interesting to me.  As one who needs community, I have certainly seen many changes in how we form and participate in social groups or community.  Even ten years ago, I never could have imagined that in my retirement years, I would become a part of a viable community that is created through the use of the internet.

I have not read the book, Bowling Alone, by Robert D. Putnam, but I am very interested in what he has to say about the value of social networks.  His basic premise is: "social capital refers to the collective value of all social networks."  He also speaks of "the inclinations that arise from the networks to do things for each other," He refers to this as "Norms of reciprocity."

Blogging and Social Capital

Blogging has created a whole new world for me.  When I first began blogging, I never could have imagined the world that such an activity would open up for me.  First of all, I just want to thank my blogging friends for being a part of my life.  Your comments have meant so much to me.  They have given me hope, courage, and comfort.  You have made me feel less alone.  You have encouraged me.  You have made me laugh.  You have given me new things to think about, and you have made me see things in new ways.  

Since January, my physical world has at times become very small.  The concussion that followed the fall I suffered on January 2nd, has resulted in lingering headaches, dizzy spells, and avoidance of many things that were very much a part of who I am and what I do.  I have not been able to drive.  I am dependent on my husband to take me where I need to go.  I am unable to participate in large social gatherings.  I have trouble in crowded or noisy places.  

Added to the challenge of recovery from a head injury, I have also been dealing with arrhythmia where at times my heart is either beating very fast, or I am suffering from palpitations, some of which are due to AFib.  It has not been a fun time lately.  I am on a new medication and wearing a heart monitor.  We shall see where this journey takes us.  

In other words, the social butterfly's wings have been clipped.  I don't know what I would do without my community of bloggers.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there, for reaching out, for caring.

A Few Highlights Since Easter

Easter Sunday, now already several weeks away and very old news, was worth noting.  Easter Day was a glorious one for me.  Early Easter morning, my husband I drove to Colorado Springs to attend church at my former home church with a dear friend of mine.  She and I have known each other since college days. We reconnected about eight years ago, and the friendship has blossomed.  I count her as one of my dearest friends, and one upon whom I can always count for a listening ear.  She is so wise, caring, and intelligent.  I always come away from our conversations and times together a much enriched person.

Linda & Sally Village Seven Presbyterian Church Easter 2012

Linda's husband is also someone I first met in college.  We had speech class together.  Linda and I went through rush together back in the day when we were 'rushed' to join a college sorority.  While we pledged to different sororities, our friendship has become one that seems like we are sisters of the heart.

Greg, Linda, Sally

After church, Linda and Greg left to have dinner with family, and Jim and I went to the Cheyenne Mountain Resort to meet my daughter Amy for brunch.  The food was plentiful and delicious.  While the day was certainly not like Easters from the past, we made the most of it and enjoyed our time together.  

Mom & Daughter

After brunch, Amy, Jim, and I made our way to the cemetery to remember our dear Julie who was born on April 8, 1976.  Amy chose tulips for Julie, and I chose some daffodils for my father's grave that is next to Julie's.  He was also an April baby.  We hugged each other and cried as we remembered the sister and daughter who always figured so largely in any of our previous Easter celebrations. Crying always is cleansing for the soul and helps in moving on in our journey of grief.  

A Special Gift from My Husband

Later in the week after Easter, my husband totally surprised me with a special gift.  He took me to dinner at a very nice new restaurant in town.  After dinner, he stood up, took something out of his pocket, and handed me this:

Yes, can you believe it?  That is a box from Tiffany's.  We had wondered into the store while we were in Salt Lake City last month.  Of course, I had to try a few things on just for fun.  He then called the store, ordered one of the rings I had admired, and had it shipped to our home without me ever even suspecting a thing.  

Our 20th anniversary is coming up in June.  He said he couldn't wait until then.  He wanted me to have a new wedding band.  It is a simple band of diamonds set in platinum.  That is exactly what I wanted; he just didn't have to go to Tiffany's to get it.  Of course,  I was thrilled that he did.  

That is a wrap-up of what has been happening around here.  I hope to get back to blogging a bit more regularly soon.  In the meantime, you all are in my thoughts, and I greatly value this community of bloggers.  My best wishes are sent out to all of you.  

Go Often To The House of a Friend

About two weeks ago, my good friend Jeanie sent me a message on Facebook offering to come over and help me decorate my Christmas tree.  Jeanie and I met about 16 or 17 years ago in a syntax class.  We were both 'non-traditional' students who were going back to school to get a degree.  She was working on a degree in Spanish while I was working on a degree in English.  Syntax, a required course for both degrees, brought us together.  I think Jeanie was the one who reached out to me first, but soon, we were study buddies.  That was the beginning a very long standing and dear friendship.

When I first met Jeanie, she was not planning on teaching.  Then, after getting her degree,  she decided to go back to school to get endorsed to teach Spanish.  Once she was in the classroom teaching, I kept after her to get her ESL endorsement.  Now, she teaches ESL, has her masters in ESL and is working on a second masters in History.  I am very proud of Jeanie.  She has quite a story to tell about her life.  As a young child, she worked in the fields in California.  Now she is a teacher who is working on her second masters degree.  Jeanie is a great role model for me.

Jeanie and I have kept our friendship strong over the years by going to dinner on a regular basis or by getting together whenever there was a teaching conference we were both attending.  About four or five years ago, she came over and spent the day helping me decorate for Christmas just because she missed doing that for an old friend of hers who had passed away.

The day Jeanie came to decorate, my calendar had this quote, "Go often to the house of a friend.  For weeds soon cover the path."  Unfortunately, the path from her house to mine had become a bit overgrown.  It had been much longer since our last meeting than either of us would have liked.

After taking a while to catch up on news and other developments in our lives and in the lives of our children, we got down to business.  Since I have an artificial tree that needed some fluffing up, Jeanie suggested that we wear gardening gloves.  Great idea!

Once the tree was all fluffed out, we started hauling up boxes from the basement.  My goal was just to get the tree decorated.

Jeanie thought I should decorate the windows in the family room as well as the mantle.  So, once we got the tree done, she went to work on her next project.

After about three hours of chatting, decorating, laughing, and crying a bit, our job for the day was done.  My tree was up and decorated.  The family room had a garland over the window and a garland on the fireplace mantle.  I was famished, so once we had posed in front of the newly decorated tree for a photo to record our day together, we were off for pizza.

Holidays are rough when one has lost a loved one.  Jeanie lost her brother this year, and I lost my daughter.  Being with friends who care and understand, is very healing.  Decorating for the holidays can be a bit daunting after a loss of major significance.  Thanks Jeanie for being my friend, for helping me get started with decorating, and for being there for so many.

February - Celebrating a milestone reached

Thanks to a blogging buddy, I've been nudged into posting an entry to my blog. Where did February go?

I spent most of the first week of February at CCIRA (Colorado Council International Reading Association) in Denver. It seems at bit strange that I would first attend CCIRA after I had retired, but there is an explanation for becoming a part of an educational conference at this point in my life. I had been asked by a good friend to co-edit the Colorado Communicator with her. Since I really knew very little about the organization itself and the people who held leadership roles in it, I decided to go to the conference. I had a wonderful time attending the sessions and came away with many things to think about and explore. I am actually working on a post about some of the sessions that I attended.

Of course, an extra bonus that I gain from the conference was spending time with my good friend Dr. Linda Button. Linda and I met many years ago at what was then Colorado State College. We lived in the same dorm and we both pledged to Sigma Kappa. While we were never close friends in college, we re-connected about six years ago when I attended a meeting in Greeley at our alma mater, now the University of Northern Colorado, where Linda was a member of the faculty. Since we have both retired, we have tried to make it a point to stay connected. Re-connecting with friends and building friendships are a great benefit to retirement time.

February was also the month where my husband and I tried to jumpstart our diet and exercise plan. I did spend more time at the gym during February than I have in the past few years, but I can't say that I have spent enough time there. My husband has been much more committed, and for that reason, he has had better results.

February is my birthday month. This year was a milestone. I finally was eligible for Medicare. Who would have ever thought that I would celebrate that? I entered retirement a bit naive about the reality of paying insurance. In fact, I went back to work full-time from January to May in 2008 in order to get insurance. At the end of that job, I had to begin paying my insurance through COBRA. Ouch! Finally, at age 65, I no longer have that big insurance bill staring me in the face every month. What a relief!

Every Friday during January, February and March, I have also been attending classes Colorado Master Gardener classes. I've longed dreamed of the day when I would finally be able to take on the obligation of working toward a certificate in master gardening. I knew I would be making a huge commitment when I took this project on. Not only do I have to attend classes weekly for three months, but I also must contribute 50 volunteer hours in order to meet the qualifications for the certificate.

In February, I was blessed with had two special birthday celebrations. My good friend Judy met me in Colorado Springs and took me to lunch at The Margarita at Pine Creek. http://www.Margaritaatpinecreek.com

We both love this special place! It was so great to laugh, talk and reminisce with Judy. The crazy thing is, it wasn't until she said something about teaching in Alexandria, Virginia, that I remembered, "Oh that's right. Judy is an ESL teacher just like I am." In fact, that is how we met each other. She worked with me at the University as we worked to get the ESL endorsement program put together. Now, our lives don't revolve around professional things. She is now my "retirement model." I hope to someday enjoy retirement as successfully as she does.

East High Girls Gather At Sally's House

I had a big birthday bash at my house on the day before my big day. Actually, the gathering was a get-together for a group of girls I went to high school with. I am a newcomer to the group. They've met three times a year for over 25 years. I lived out of state when they first began meeting, and just joined the group in November. What a special group of ladies they all are. We all had a great laugh when my husband asked if he needed to turn the t.v. on for us before he left. I guess he thought we would have nothing to talk about. As you can guess, we didn't stop talking, laughing and sharing our stories for the entire time we were together. I love that this group loves and supports each other through the good times, through illness and death, and through the loss of husbands and parents. It truly is comforting to know that I have friends who knew me back when and continue to be a part of my life.