I am knitting so much that my right hand is painful and virtually useless, and I have knit holes into my left index finger.  The photo above is the beginning of a sweater for my grandson… which will be for my older granddaughter because the gauge was so wrong.  I’ll knit another for my grandson, using better, more expensive yarn.

I went in for my physical last Tuesday.  I was shown my new office.  I have computer access and an e-mail address.  I got a call on Friday morning.  One of the big shots who had signed off on the approval for the position changed his mind.  So there is no job.  I was supposed to start yesterday.  I was so excited about it.

Hospital management is still holding out hope they can demonstrate to this guy that there is money in the budget for me.  This lovely thing called “vacancy savings.”  All the positions that are empty and are not going to be filled.  It’s a lot of money and they always play games with it.  Maybe this time the game will work out for me, but I am not counting on anything right now.  I will tell you that my heart broke a little about this.

I said all the right things to my friends.  It must not be meant to be.  There must be something better God wants me to do.  Etc.

But my heart is broken just a little bit.

My family is in turmoil and that hurts a bit too.  Both of my daughters call me and I commiserate with both of them because I understand both of their points of view, but this sucks.  For any parent who believes that everything will be OK if only their addict stops using, I am here to disabuse you of that delusion.  Thank God she is sober, I thank God every day, but even 9 years of sobriety don’t undo all the damage that was done.

So it is Halloween.  I am writing this between answering the door and giving kids candy.  My sober daughter and her boyfriend are on the way over for dinner.   And I feel horrible that the other daughter is not going to be here.

And the grandkids are in Montana, far, far away.

I’ll snap out of it.  I know I will.  But right now, it just kind of feels icky.

Yes, I am articulate – icky.  That is the best word.

(and you know I have the best words.  I am very intelligent!!!!)

Posted in Family, Knitting, Sobriety, Work | 4 Comments

Life Goes Fast


Sober Daughter and I canned tomatoes last week.  It was a lovely day.

I’ve had a whole bunch of lovely days.  Amazing days don’t lend themselves to blog posts as well as not so great days.

The weather has turned.  It is suddenly cold rainy fall weather.  I usually like this kind of weather, but after three days of it, I am finding it oppressive.  I tend to spend a bit of time outdoors so I feel a bit like a caged animal.

Last week I got a phone call from my former boss at my long time career job.  It seems they need my help with something and would like me to come back.  She begged me.  Seriously, begged.  She said I could work whatever days and hours I wanted, as much or as little as I wanted.  That I could stay in my office and not talk to anyone or go to any meetings, that I could just tell her what to do and she would do it.  Oh, isn’t this music to my ears?  yes.  I told her there was a large part of me that would like to say “I told you so.  Good luck.”  But a larger part of me would LOVE to come back in a limited way and work on my favorite thing.  And so I said yes.  It will probably take a month or more to get all the bureaucratic I’s dotted and T’s crossed.  We’ll see.

But I immediately feel vindicated.  Like I have a chance to change the ending of that story.  I get to add another chapter.  And I get to earn a lot of money.   I had prayed that morning that it would be nice if God could find me more money.

I am very excited and happy about this.  And anxious to get going.  I think that is why I am feeling so caged now.  There are so many things to get done and I don’t want to sit in this house and knit the project that I have come to hate.  Hate.  Hate.  And I have two of them to do.  Before Christmas.

I guess I will go back to my chair and knit.  And wait for an adventure.

Posted in Food, Gratitude, Knitting, Nature, Prayer, Weather, Work | 4 Comments


IMG_3006.JPGWhat a wonderful trip I had!  Yellowstone National Park is phenomenal – the real meaning of that word.  So many beautiful things to see and experience.  The above is the Grand Prismatic Spring.  I thought I was taking the trail to the place with an “arial” view, but I didn’t and didn’t have time to take the several mile hike to the other place.

fullsizeoutput_94a.jpegThe yarn store in West Yellowstone had this yarn which was exclusively hand dyed for them.  It is the Grand Prismatic Spring color way.  I cannot wait to knit a shawl out of this!

IMG_3071.JPGThere’s my tent in Yellowstone.  It was really an awesome experience for me.  I was so afraid of animals, and afraid of my body and how it would live through a night in a tent.   It is so good to have done this and realize that I CAN DO IT.  I was so worried and some of my worries were realized, but I lived through it and I can say I truly enjoyed myself.  I did wake up freezing the first night in spite of my sleeping bag, air mattress, and very good Smartwool long underwear.  I put on a hoodie and a hat, and covered the sleeping bag with everything else I had in the tent.  The next night, I wore more layers which may have helped.  My back was really bothering me, so I wrapped my back in one of the ThermaCare wraps I had packed, and was warm all night!

I got to see all four of my grandchildren.  The older two are teenagers and very difficult to get to see as they live with my ex-husband and are very busy with school and sports.  I would say the ex made it difficult.  I choose not to spend a lot of time on that.  Those girls are old enough that it won’t be long until we will be able to visit freely.  But that time is not now.

The little ones just make my heart sing.  To be able to spend three days with them was just heavenly.  When I got there, they were out in the driveway jumping up and down, they were so excited to see me.  When I left, they hung on my legs crying and begging me not to leave.  My son told them to knock it off because I was crying, but I told him it was a wonderful kind of crying.  What a loving, kind, peaceful family.  No sniping, no sarcasm, no yelling, no tension crackling in the air.  Just love and caring.  Amazing.  I have a bedroom there and I sleep better there than anywhere else.  I just feel so comfortable and safe – and loved.  It is sad to leave there, but I am oh, so grateful that I can go there.

I was feeling like my life was over before I went on this trip.  I felt that my body had betrayed me and was making me old.  I was truly expecting death in a few years.  That may truly happen, no one knows the hour, right?  But I feel alive now.  After a night at my son’s house, my back had stopped hurting so bad.  Many of my ailments have gone away.  I think that is because I stopped taking that terrible medication.  But it was so reaffirming to go do something kind of hard and kind of daring.  It was good for me to push the envelope if you will.  I feel strong and capable right now.  Not a feeble old woman.

And now I shall start to study the Latin textbooks that arrived in my absence.  When I look at them, I realize how little Latin I retained from high school.  But I am about to learn again.  So exciting!

Life feels good again.  God is so good.

Posted in Family, Fear, Gratitude, Health, Travel | 10 Comments

Heading Out

That’s a whole bed full of stuff I am taking on my trip. Believe me, there is a lot more than this!

I was so stressed about trying to get to Yellowstone in one day, I decided to book a room.  My young neighbor coached me through signing up on Airbnb, and helped me find a place to stay in Wyoming for tonight.  Someone’s basement for $45.  Sounds funky, but I didn’t want to spend over $100 for a room just so I could sleep for a few hours.  The reviews are all good for this lady, so it should be ok?  I’ll let you know what I think.

Yesterday I purchased a sketchpad and some fancy colored pencils that you can use with water if desired.  I did a little sketch/painting of a rose last night and I am super excited about trying some landscapes on my trip to YNP.

I am just super excited all the way around.  I will probably post a couple of times while I am gone because I will be alone a lot and I am thinking I might have some time on my hands.  To hike, pray, paint, knit, and blog!  When I am not hanging out with my grandchildren!!!!

Please say a pray that none of the bears find me particularly appealing.  Thanks!

Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments

Nothing So Boring…


As listening to someone’s list of ailments.  So I will stop.   Or at least try to…

The end of summer roses are already in bloom.  It is too early for this.  The crickets started their lovely nighttime serenade about a week early this year.  I usually count on it beginning, like clockwork, on August 1.  I don’t think I would mind having an early autumn – at all.  It is my favorite season.

My doctor told me off on Thursday.  She said my ailments are all because I am 65 and my body isn’t working right.  It isn’t working right, says she, because of the toxic state of our environment.  She said it was hopeless, that even moving to Iceland wouldn’t help.  When I started crying, she asked if I was in therapy, and when I said no, she wrote a referral.  Holy crap.  I did make an appointment with a new psychologist – my beloved psychologist retired 2 days after I retired.  I will see the new one next week.  I did stop the fosamax, she wouldn’t tell me whether I should or not, but I feel I shouldn’t take it.  I feel like I was in great health until I found out I have osteoporosis and then started that medication, and it has been downhill since then…. a shockingly rapid downhill.   I also feel I need a new doctor, and that kind of breaks my heart.

So this morning I shall go to Mass, and then go on my rounds to take communion to the homebound.  This ministry has been a wonderful blessing to me.  I love these older people.  I am also developing some opinions on how I want to live as I age.  Almost invariably these houses are all sealed up like tombs and so hot it is nearly unbearable.  I know the older folks get cold easily, but it cannot be good for you to be cooped up like that 24/7.  One of them lives in a beautiful home on a hill with an incredibly gorgeous view of the front range of the Rocky Mountains.  There is a lovely deck that never gets used.  Can someone wheel her outside so she can watch a sunset?   I hope so.

I have been asked to be a teachers aide at an elementary school age Latin class at my church!  How awesome is that!  I am so excited!  I’ll be taking my “Safe Environment” training next week.

It’s Sunday, it looks like it is going to be a gorgeous day, and I am going to endeavor to enjoy every second of it.  And I hope you do too!



Posted in Aging, Health, Ministry, Roses, Weather | 9 Comments

Tuesday Morning


Little Ginger Kitty (Gigi) on the front porch

I am writing right now because my right hand hurts too much to knit. Seriously, this is ridiculous. I am beginning to feel like Job. But Job was gracious and faithful when he said:

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” — Job 1:21

No, I am not gracious and faithful like Job, I am grumbling a bit.  I made an appointment to see my doctor and started making a list of things that are going awry with my body.  There are ten things on the list – so far.  Some are pretty huge, like chronic severe back pain.  Oh, and loss of use of my right hand?  I would call that major.  Some are not so major?  Just pain.  Dizziness.  Hair loss.

It is my belief that these problems are being caused by Fosamax.  I started it 14 weeks ago.  In that time, I feel like I have gone from being a healthy, energetic, active, fairly happy person – to being an old woman who isn’t able or willing to do a whole lot of the things I love.

It seems like rather a cruel irony that I happily anticipated retirement because then I would have time to do the simple things I love.  Nothing huge like traveling the world or jumping out of airplanes.  Just going to mass in the morning, being more present in my loved ones’ lives, knitting, sewing, cooking, gardening, and triathloning.   And the time is here and I don’t feel well enough to do most of these things most days.  In the last month some vague and nebulous aches have turned into big fat problems.  I just don’t feel good at all!

Tomorrow I shall see my doc.  My hope is that she will say “Gosh!  Most or all of this is being caused by Fosamax!  Just stop taking it right now!”   That’s my hope.  But I am a bit worried, and I need to get it checked out.

Now maybe if I stop taking Fosamax I will find out we don’t actually have a hateful lunatic in the White House?  You think that could happen?  OK, never mind.  But I am done being quiet about it.

Please, if you can, say a prayer for me?  I either need to get well or get OK with not being well.  Or get good with God’s will…. hummmmm, that has always worked before, maybe it will be again?

Thanks.  xoxox

Posted in Aging, Cat, Faith, Health, Knitting, Osteoporosis, Retirement, Truth | 4 Comments

Today she is 50

In 1967, I gave birth to a little girl.  I was 15 years old.  I went away to a home for unwed mothers.  They had those back in 1967.   Nuns ran the place, and I loved it.   It was a huge old building on North Lasalle Street in Chicago.  The student nurses were on the upper floors, I believe the UMs (that’s what they called us) were on the 2nd floor.  I remember running up a huge staircase to a large lobby on the second floor.  It was 50 years ago, so I am surprised I remember anything.  There was also an old Otis elevator, but even then I preferred the stairs.

In the hospital where I gave birth I believe I was severely mistreated.  I was left alone to labor – let me stress alone – for days.  From Saturday afternoon until Tuesday morning.  In the end, I was delirious from pain and lack of sleep.  And maybe lack of human contact.

When I had the little baby, I remember they told me she had a head full of black hair that stood up straight on her little baby head.  I named her Mary Catherine.  Because I knew I would never want to use that name for one of the children I planned to have and keep in the future.   Also because there was a beautiful young nun at the home named Sister Mary Catherine.  She was so kind and so beautiful.

Part of the deal was that I was supposed to be allowed to hold her – just once.  Just once.  But the nurses didn’t have time to bring her to me.  I had to leave that hospital without ever holding my daughter.  I never got to touch her.  And I knew I would never see her again.  I left that hospital lobby absolutely devastated.  Crying like I had never cried before and probably have never cried since.

I did “the right thing” back in 1967.  You went away quietly, you had the baby, and gave it to “a good home,” and then lost the weight as quickly as humanly possible and came back home to resume your life.  As if nothing happened.  The day after Mary was born, my mother came to visit at the hospital and brought me a very stiff and tight girdle.

When I came home I weighed a lot more than I had when I left.  I suddenly had breasts where I had been flat chested.  I was a completely different person.  And I missed the home and the nuns.   I did not feel like keeping this massive upheaval in my life a secret!

At home I was just expected to carry on as if nothing happened.  I discovered that my boyfriend cheated on me all the time I was gone.  And the world had completely changed.  Seriously.

1967, the Summer of Love.  I sat on a hospital bed in an unwed mothers’ home and knit and listened to the radio all summer.  I heard the Beatles radical Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Jefferson Airplane, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix, and on and on and on.  Things had changed between April and August.  When I left high school, girls were wearing little plaid pleated skirts with big pins (yeah, I know, they are called kilts) and little cardigans.  Knee socks.  When I got home, girls were wearing bell bottoms and tunics.  Seed beads around their necks, and indian scarves in their hair.   Suede fringed jackets.  Suede fringed boots.

I started smoking cigarettes and lost the weight extremely rapidly.  I ditched the boyfriend.  I started using marijuana and LSD within a couple of months, and was drinking heavily.  I had a world class case of postpartum depression.  I wasn’t treated for that until the next summer.  And then barely at all.  My parents sent me away to Boston.  As if that would help?  It was awful.  They tried to find a boarding school for me.  Luckily, they couldn’t get me into one because they were already full of girls like me.

Life happened.  Obviously.

Every year on August 15, I would remember.  I started counting the years until she was 18 so I could meet her.  When she turned 18, I wrote to Catholic Charities to let them know where I was so they could find me if she wanted to meet me.  They sent letters to my daughter.  Her adoptive mother hid those letters because she felt terribly threatened by the idea of me popping up.  I don’t blame her at all.

And then in 1987, I got a letter from Catholic Charities saying that she wanted to meet me!  They cautioned against moving too fast to meet.  They tried to warn based on years and years of experience – why would anyone listen to that?  We exchanged photos.  My daughter is beautiful.  She looks like my mother.  She looks like one of my aunts.  Her adoptive parents also named her Mary!  I found out I was a grandmother.  I found her father for her and she met him before she met me.

We did meet in 1988.  The big dramatic moment that gets covered on TV these days.  Waiting at the airport to meet my 20 year old daughter I had never even touched before! We hugged.  We stared at each other.  She stayed at my house.  My kids met her.  She was very snotty.  She said some very cruel things to me.  She didn’t much approve of the fact that I still smoked back then.  She thought the whole AA thing was just kinda shady.  It went on and on.  It was terribly hurtful.  After she left, we stayed in touch for a few years, but then she vanished out of my life.  She did stay in touch with her father though. She met his family and ended up having an affair with her newly found aunt’s husband.  It was really sordid.   She ended up drinking and smoking…

I could not find her for maybe 20 years.  I assumed she had married (again) and had a different last name.  I was right.

Maybe 10 years ago she sent me an e-mail.  I was easy to find.  I was so happy to hear from her.  We were spending time on the phone and were making very preliminary plans to meet again.  But then she started pushing me about my kids.  She wanted to talk to them.  I tried to explain that they were adults and were not mine to give her (my kids didn’t want to have anything to do with her).  She told me she and her daughter were coming to visit me and they were going to stay with me.  I was completely freaked out.  She started sending me very offensive e-mails and when confronted, she told me that’s just how she is.  Then she stopped answering my phone calls and e-mails.  I told her I found her inconsistency very difficult to deal with, and she told me she was “consistently inconsistent.”

On April 30, 2010, she sent me a text asking me to do her a favor and “forget I’d ever existed.”  That she would thank me for giving her life but she realized abortion wasn’t legal in 1967, so I really didn’t have a choice.  It went on and on, and I opted not to respond.  I am sure it came out of deep pain of hers.  But it wasn’t very honest, it wasn’t very nice, and I just opted to opt out.   Or you could say, I decided to respect her wishes for me leave her alone.

Within the last year she sent a Facebook friend requested to my sober daughter.  My daughter accepted it.  Since sober girl comments and likes almost everything I post on FB, my “other” daughter now can see it.  She hit my daughter up on messenger recently and they had a long conversation.  Mary admitted she is very jealous of the relationship daughter and I have.  Sober daughter also told me this girl is very unstable and probably mentally ill.  And on drugs.  She understands that she may have to unfriend her so that she doesn’t have access to me and all my relatives.

This all feels horrible.  I wish I could make it be a different way.  I SO wish I could wish her a happy 50th birthday.  I am afraid it would just cause more trouble.  I don’t know what you do with a person like that.

This hurts my heart almost daily.  It feels like a big gaping hole in my life.

I have from time to time convinced myself that I fulfilled my obligation to her when I gave birth and relinquished her to a “good family.”  She did have a good family, and a good upbringing.   I was fifteen freaking years old!

But now I am older and I am retired and I have found that the old hurts kind of refresh themselves if given enough time to ponder.

What an indulgence to write this all out.  But probably cathartic.  Thank you for indulging me if you have read it.


Posted in Family, History, Truth | 4 Comments