Hoosier

This bulldog mix fell in love with my yellow lab.  He took up at the house and wouldn't leave.  I didn't want him.   He was a pit bull.   I was afraid of them in a sense.   Didn't want to take a chance.   I tried very hard to find his owner.   He had a blue collar on.   He seemed nice enough, but I was still on guard.     After a couple weeks I decided that perhaps my dog really wanted to keep him.   I told my dog, Buddy, that if he wanted we would keep him but it would be his dog.   So that is when I said to this stray, "Whose your DAddy?"   That is where his name, Hoosier, came from.  It is more like Who's Your?  

Those two dogs were really in love with each other and I was glad of it.    Hoosier didn't like cats and he didn't like some men.   He would sneak up behind them and try to nip them.   Never drew blood.   Didn't bark, didn't growl.   It caught me off guard the first time and I had to put him up when men came to visit.   He liked my lady friends.    One day Buddy died.   Suddenly and unexpected.   He died in the kitchen while I was picking the chicken off a carcass.   It was awful.   I was so upset.   Poor Hoosier he was too.   He and Buddy slept together and it was so hard for him to be alone.   I felt sorry for him and so I let him come sleep with me in my bed.   First time ever a dog had slept on my bed.   I still was a bit standoffish, but after a while I realized all we had was each other and so I was able to accept him as my dog.   

Hoosier is 15 now.   He was probably about 2 when he came to my house.   He is a good dog, other than the man thing.   I like that he has short hair.  I never want a long haired dog again.   

So that is the story of Hoosier. 

My special friend is slipping away

 Tonight I am a little emotional.   I have a dear friend who has dementia.   He is 74 and has no family.   I and another dear friend of his, along with other people and support people from the VA have been helping him to remain in his home.  Helping him to stay home and function as best he can for as long as he can.   The decline has been gradual, but tonight a few minor things happened that let me know it's progressing to another level.   It has left me feeling sad, tearful, grieving and powerless.   I can tell when he looks at me, his gaze is more vacant.   He still knows me, his friend John and a few other people.   He doesn't remember most peoples names.  He has very poor short term memory.   I am grateful that he still remembers me and sess me as the person he wants to be around most of the time.   He doesn't want to be alone anymore.    If you have ever been around a person with dementia it is a horrible thing to live through.   ortunately he is able to  to let me help him.   He is grateful for the help.  He is easy to please.   I know it could be so much worse.   I fear that it will be.   

He has been a wonderful friend to me.   He is unusual.   He doesn't like to spend money.   He has no concept of the realities of life when it comes to the cost of things.   Overall he is a good man .   He is a very loyal friend.   He has been there for me in many ways.   He is a stabilizing force in my life.   He is a constant.    He wants to help me, but there isn't much he can do.   I try to find simple things that he can do and it makes him happy.   He keeps me from feeling alone.   He is like a brother, or a companion, or a special friend.   I will miss him.   I will miss him so much.   I am already missing him.   

Goodbye Phyliss

 My dear friend Betsy text me today that her mother, Phyliss had passed away this afternoon.   We expected it, but maybe in a day or two.   Phyliss was 100 years old.  She had lived a good life.   She was one of the most talented people I had ever met.  She was humble and unassuming.  She was demure.   She was an excellent seamstress.   I had known her since college days, as Betsy and I have been very close all those years.   She maintained good cognitive skills up until near the end.   

When someone lives that long, there is always the question of how much longer will they be able to endure.   Sometimes it feels like they will live forever.   Betsy has been her primary caretaker for years now.   This has been a journey that we have talked through and supported each other through.   Her Mom always made me feel special and loved.  I had such admiration for all of the things that she could do.   She made such beautiful garments.   She was an exceptional quilter.  She was such a good Mom and wife.   Betsy had a sister who died a few years ago,   Kathy had ovarian cancer and for a while she lived with Betsy and her husband Ron.   There were so many years where all of Betsy's life focused on taking care of others.  Taking care of her sister, her husband and her Mom.   Now she is free.  Now she can focus on herself and get through her grief.   I wish I could be closer to her.   this journey has really deepened our faith in God.  We both have pushed ourselves to study spiritual things and to ask the tough questions about what we believe and how we can manifest these beliefs in how we live our lives.   

I know it sounds crazy, but Betsy's Mom was the last living MOther of my close girlfriends.   It makes me so much more aware that we all are closer to dying.   It's ok.  There are things worse than dying.   

 My goodness.   2017 was the last uear i made posts.  Now it is 2025.   I think it is amazing that the blog is still here.    Im not sure how I want to use the space now.   I do want to write more.   Sometimes I think I could be a writer.   I certainly have done a lot of writing in my day.   Working as a therapist required writing about the conversations  you had in therapy with them.  Documentation is a big part of the job.   I also did a little mit of my own diary.   However when I think of being a writer, I am more thinking of wirting a book.  That kind of writing.   I wonder what I should do to explrore this more.   I wonder what I can do to get clear about whether I want to be a writer.   It is kind of like art, ainting.  I have  heard so many artists say that when it comes to art, the more you practice the better you get.  I think some of that probably applies to writing.  When I was in high school I was a pretty good writer.   I was actually entered in a national writing contest by my teachers.   It was a writing assighment that had something to do with selecting a book and talking about why it is meaningful.  I can't exactly remember the directions, but I do remember I selected the book., Johathan Livingston Seargull.   I knew it wasn't very brofound or classic.   A popular recent  novel that was actually touching peoples hearts and sould.   I didn't win, which didn't surprise me.   I took an English class of some kind in College.  The college course was actually a dual enrollment class for high school and college credits.  It was in a local community college in South east Florida.   The Professor gave the class an assignment for a short story of some type.   My first paper only yearned a C with soem pretty specific critisicms.   I was amazed and devestated!  I had never gotten less than an A in any english or writing class.  I  read the remarks on the paper and I thought I understood them, so on the next paper I actually tried to apply them,  the result was 180* improvment.   A perfect paper.   

The next major writing advneture was a Dissertation in my doctorate program.   I really had to challenge my self to get through that.   That kind of writing is also very difficult.   It took a very long time for me to get the handg of that kind of writing.    

Maybe I will give some thoughts to what I would write.   Or perhaps I can just free flow for a while.   I guess one of the questions i have is what would I write about and then would people be interested in it.   I wouldn't want to write and it be a bomb.   I would want someone to be honest with me.   I know authors get rejected multiple times.   Thats ok.  I could handle that.   

Well let me know if you read this. 

Been a while since I posted here.  I am on one of my trips to Florida to check on my Mother.    Everytime I come down here, which is about once a month, I spend a week or so.   Everytime I come she is worse. Not by much, but a little more. she is having more trouble doing simple things.  She is having more trouble with focusing on things and she is getting stuck on some things in her effort to deal with things going on around her.   She takes her sleeping pill and then she stays awake and gets back up and tries to do something she doesn't need to be doing.  She gets unstable and sometimes gets disoriented.  Today she has talked and talked and talked.   I have been patient and listening.  I try to engage in conversation, but at the same time, most of what she is talking about doesn't make much difference to me.  I realize that it is her world and that it is important to her.   I got short with her twice.  Not much, just a little, but she reacted to it.    I know that people say that when aging settles in on a person it changes them.  I sometimes wonder if it just doesn't bring out who they really are and always have been.  

Rollercoaster of feelings.

My Mothe r, who is almost 90,  has to move out of her home after 42 years.  She has lived in the same spot for over 60 years. She has lived in the same neighborhood for that long as well. She doesn't want to move, and I'm here helping her get ready to do so. Today was not a good day. She was trying to help me wrap up some things for the boxes. She did okay but I think the memories and the reality of the move overcame her. When my mom gets anxious, she also gets irritable. She has her own system of doing things and at this point she has to rely on me and it is not fun. She gets depressed and she just says things like "I don't want to move and I just want to go on a nursing home." Once the move is over, I think she's going to be ok. But until then it isn't going to be easy. I have a very similar personality to my mothers.  Things between us can become tense at times ,and it is hard for me to remember that she is under this kind of stress and what it must feel like. I'm grateful for being able to be with her, and to help her with this. I just want everything to be smooth and comfortable for her. I think this is just an awesome thing to go through and I am just praying that we're going to be able to overcome this and look back with gratitude in a year or two and be grateful for where we will be. For those of you whose mother has passed on, I know you would tell me to be grateful for the time I have with her and to overlook a lot of things. Believe me I think about that every day. I try to remind myself when she talks too much, or she is too difficult, or she is being very demanding, that one day I may not have her in my life ?  I bite my tongue as much as I can. Not always easy to do.
I know this situation will be over in a short while.

Hot Air! I am under it this time!

I had a great experience riding in a hot air balloon.   I got up before sunrise to watch the balloon fest associated with the Dublin, GA St. Patrick's day celebration.   It is unusual for me to get up that early for any reason.   I have gotten a new camera, and it motivates me to do things in search of great photo ops!  I had beautiful shots of the morning launch, and while I was there I ran into an acquaintance who was going for a ride in the balloons.   She is a bit older than I and she was there alone. She said I have always wanted to do this, and now is the time.   I realized as she was talking, and also because my best friend had said that riding in the hot air balloons was on her bucket list, that it was a once in a lifetime experience that I wanted to try.    It looks so amazing to watch those balloons going up at the mercy of the wind.    There is a quality of magic in it.

I made the decision right then and there that I wanted to do it and put my name on the list for a ride.   It looked like there might be an afternoon spot available, and so as I watched the morning launch I started to get excited.    I got the call confirming my spot and showed up amidst all the balloon captains and crews laying out and preparing the balloons to go.    I met a great crew of people and along with my friends to see me off went up in the Blue Flame with David Harwell.  David has been piloting balloons for rover thirty years, and he has owned seven different balloons. The Blue Flame is a splendid large balloon that fits three in the basket.  

 Once the balloon was inflated, it took almost no time for us to be ascending and leaving my friends shrinking on the ground.  I was really amazed at how calm I was, but also a bit alarmed to realize how little control there is for these balloons.

  You are truly subject to the wind and you have to go in that direction.   No control.    David explained to my fellow balloonist JoAnn Dotson and I that this was a fairly safe trip with the exception of the danger of landing in electric wires.   He would periodically reach up and pull the lever to shoot the flame from the gas burner into the balloon, heating the air and controlling our altitude.

   Other than the loud sound of the fire, like a super torch for ten or fifteen seconds it was total silence.   Amazing.

 Looking at the other balloons ahead and behind us was like being in a dream.   It reminded me of jellyfish floating in the water at different levels, but still going with the current.   Seeing my hometown from above was very disorienting, but when I recognized a landmark it gave me a whole new way of thinking and seeing things.     There were a lot of forests and fields around the town and we drifted over the Oconee River our Captain began looking for a place to set down.

  David said that there was a lot of forest ahead and we needed to find some "wiggle room" to avoid drifting over the woods and having to go a long long way.     We could see our chase team following us and David decided it was best to try to set down on the side of the road.  That was kind of scary because there were electric wires running on the opposite side of the road!   I realized we didn't have any brakes, and stopping was totally at the skill of the pilot! Wiggle room???  We went lower and lower and I thought surely we were going to hit the trees., which we did!

 The bottom of the basket scraped the trees and helped us go slower.    We set down right by the road and it was amazing!  The cars coming and going stopped and watched as we set down and then climbed out.    The process of deflating and packing the balloon was quite a chore, but it was a great feeling!  I enjoyed it a lot!    It was a real feeling of adventure, and I was proud that I could have the courage to ride the wind!