Sam drew this cartoon from a photo taken on the day.
Today is a happy day. Nine years ago today Chris and I got married. I gained a step-daughter and Sam gained a step-sister. With all the crazy stuff going on in the world today, it’s wonderful to think back on July 9, 2011. We were married in my parents’ backyard. My dad, who would die in 2014, gave me away. My oldest friend (we’ve been friends for nearly 48 years now) officiated. Our honeymoon was spent in a beach house with 8 other people (Sam, and Chris’ family who had traveled from the UK and New Zealand for the wedding). There was some stress and strain (torrential rain up until a few hours before the outdoor wedding, for instance), but to me, looking back, it was perfect.
Tomorrow, more things that make me happy. See you then. xoxo
I love to learn. If someone would pay me to go to college for the rest of my life, that would be the best gig ever. I love to study and believe it or not I love to take tests. I’ve always been a good test-taker, I have a knack for it, but I must admit I haven’t always been a good studier – is that a word? Yes, apparently it is. In fact, there were times when I was an abysmal studier. But I’ve always loved learning new things.
I have begun working on a new challenge – actually I just started this morning! I’m learning how to use Sam’s camera (pictured above, Canon’s EOS Rebel T7, for those who are interested). I’m working my way through the manual (imagine my relief when I realized that of the many pages in the 3/4-inch-thick instruction manual, only the first 116 are in English! The others are just repeats of the instructions in other languages)!
I had been thinking about learning how to work a real camera and not just the one in my phone for a while now, but something recently brought the idea from the back burner to the front – hummingbirds! I love hummingbirds and we have managed to attract some hummingbirds to our two feeders. I am so thrilled! I tried taking some iPhone photos, but the camera in my iPhone model doesn’t do a great job of zooming in with any decent amount of clarity. Maybe I’m using it wrong, and maybe more fancy models have much better cameras (I’ve heard they do), but this week I decided I would start to take some photos with and learn everything there is to know about the Canon.
I have spent a good portion of the day sitting at the window, or kneeling at the window with the camera propped up on the back of a chair (at some point a tripod might be needed), waiting for the hummingbirds to arrive. Two birds did arrive, and I have nicknamed them Ruby, for his lovely red throat, and Turq, for her gorgeous turquoise feathers. Ruby came first thing in the morning and I haven’t seen him back yet. Turq has been a frequent visitor today.
Friends, I am so happy I could just do a little dance. This is so much fun.
Update: Friends who actually know their birds have informed me that these are both ruby-throated hummingbirds. Ruby is an adult male and Turq is an adult female. 🙂
Good morning, Ruby!Ruby giving us a better look at his lovely neckThat translucent thing protruding from her beak is her tongue!
The photo above shows me and my dear friend Lori in the year 1985. I was 21 years old and was sporting a tan that I thought looked oh-so-cool with my white t-shirt and faux puka shell necklace. In my late teens and early twenties, I didn’t feel attractive in the summer months unless I had a tan.
This next photo was taken in 2018. It reflects my attitude toward the sun in more recent years. Sunscreen, floppy hat, a sunscreen shirt.
Whoa – this photo looks a bit large when uploaded here. I’ve tried to make it smaller so it doesn’t frighten anyone, but I don’t want to crop it too much or else you won’t see the scale we’re working with. So, here’s the story. I have a full body check by my dermatologist every year – it’s not as traumatic it sounds, I promise! I highly recommend it. Anyway, I got a clean bill of health from my derm doctor last August, but in February I noticed a small pink spot on my face that didn’t go away. It did not look horrible. It wasn’t black and blotchy. It was just something that hadn’t been there before and didn’t seem to want to disappear. I booked an appointment with my derm to check it out. She took a look and said it might be something called basal cell carcinoma and it might not. Her conservative view was that a biopsy would probably be a good idea. The photo above is of the spot after the biopsy – I don’t have a before photo. The biopsy pathology showed that the spot was indeed basal cell carcinoma, which is a skin cancer that is not life threatening but left to its own devices will spread and spread and eventually make you look like a gargoyle (I don’t recommend looking at Google images – trust me). There is one cause of basal cell carcinoma – exposure to the sun.
This is me last Wednesday, waiting for my dermatologist to show up to perform my MOHS surgery. MOHS surgery is a multi-step procedure in which the dermatologist/surgeon removes very thin layers of tissue from the known site of the cancer. Each time a layer is removed, it is examined under a microscope to see if there are any cancer cells present. Layers are removed and examined until no cancer cells are present. If you are lucky, it only takes one layer to remove all the cancer cells. I was lucky.
After I was given the all clear by the dermatologist, I was sent across the street to the plastic surgeon. The plastic surgeon removed the dressing that had been placed on my face and said, “Oh, this is going to be easy peasy.” “Yay,” I thought.
I was sent home with a sheet of instructions. I was to keep the dressing on until the next morning, when I was to apply some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid, or let it be open to the air. So, it wasn’t until the next morning that I saw this:
They don’t mess around. That little pink spot is now a one inch incision, healing nicely. So, less gargoyle and more pirate queen.
The moral of my story is this: respect the power of the sun. If you don’t have a dermatologist, get one. Schedule yourself for yearly full-body checks, and if you notice something new anywhere on your skin that either looks not quite normal, or grows or changes in any way over time, do not hesitate to get it looked at.
It’s been a lovely, lazy day. Sunny, temperatures in the high 70’s and low 80’s. I have to say that given the choice between pulling the many weeds plaguing my hosta bed and reading a book while drinking a frosty glass of iced coffee under a tree…well…
It has been more than two weeks since my last post. Right after that last post I left for a week in Connecticut. It was something I was really nervous about doing (you’re visiting your 89-year-old mother in the middle of a pandemic?! What are you thinking?!) but also something that I knew I needed to do, for many reasons that I won’t go into here.
Anyway, the week was a good one for everyone involved. I’m glad I went. I was nervous about posting about my trip on here (you visited your 89-year-old mother in the middle of a pandemic?! What were you thinking?!) which explains the second week I was away.
Connecticut was beautiful. It may sound ironic, given that I visited my 89-year-old mother in the middle of a pandemic, but it felt good to be in a state that takes the pandemic a heck of a lot more seriously than Ohio. You simply do not go into any public enclosed space without a mask. It is not allowed. People keep their distance. You don’t see groups gathered together inside or out. We did a lot of picnic lunches, off by ourselves in the woods or by the water. It was a quiet, gentle sort of week, full of love and simple pleasures.
I have more pictures to share in the coming days, but I wanted to share with you some of the signs that are currently ubiquitous in Connecticut – hearts and thanks for health care and other front line workers. You do see a few signs stuck in lawns around here, but nothing near the scale and permanence that I saw in Connecticut. It was lovely.
I will leave you now with a promise to be here more often in the coming days. I missed you.
This is one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems (I apologize for the poor quality of the image – I haven’t figured out yet how to format poetry on this blog, so I have to resort to photos of poems). I’ve written here before that “Sun in My Face” was one of the names I considered for this blog. The sun makes me so happy – not just the fact that without it I wouldn’t exist, but whenever it decides to show its face it just makes my day.
I’m not what is typically considered a “sun worshiper,” although I was as a young person. I loved the deep tan – thought it made me look healthy, and let’s face it I thought it made me look more attractive. Oh well, the folly of youth. That particular habit is coming back to haunt me (hello, basal cell carcinoma), but that is an entire post in itself. No, I don’t sit outside in the sun unprotected for any significant length of time anymore, but I love the sun. It gives me such a feeling of well being even to look outside through a window and see that it is sunny outside. I know that this isn’t just me – we all feel better on sunny days than we do when it is dark and gray outside. Bright sun helps to regulate our circadian clocks, improves mood, and triggers our bodies to produce Vitamin D. It’s a good thing, as Martha says. Just don’t get too much of it.
I’m loving the weather we are having just lately here in northeast Ohio. Sunny, warm, but with an edge of coolness in the morning. To me, this is perfection. I am soaking in every one of these gorgeous days. Chris and I continue to walk three laps around the neighborhood every morning around 7, which is a highlight of my day. It’s quiet, except for the birds and the occasional cement truck (the city is replacing portions of sidewalk on our block that have been pushed up by tree roots, an endeavor which they undertook last year as well and which resulted in several trees dying).
We have put away the seed bird feeder for the summer and have put up a hummingbird feeder with the hopes of attracting some hummingbirds to our back yard. We’ve tried before – put up a feeder, hung out some red flowers we thought they’d like. That effort resulted in one very fleeting sighting of a hummingbird and a deer coming right up to our house in broad daylight to eat all the flowers. I could have shooed the deer away, I guess, but it was pretty hilarious. So, we’re trying again.
Sam and I have been on some bike rides around the neighborhood and through our little park. I love the incomparable feeling of freedom you get coasting downhill, but pedaling uphill reminded me that there are some muscles I haven’t used in a long time.
I hope you’re enjoying the weather where you are (sorry that it’s winter there, Chloe!) and that you have a wonderful weekend.
These peonies took 4 days to open – definitely something I looked forward to all week
I saw a quote once, probably on a meme, that said that all you need for happiness is someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward to. Trying to get proper attribution for the quote, I saw it credited to sources as diverse as Elvis Presley, Rita Mae Brown, and Immanuel Kant. I’m pretty sure it didn’t originate with Elvis, but you never know.
I’m a big believer in the power of having something to look forward to. I mentioned this a few days ago in my post about creating a positive work space. Another thing I do related to the work environment is make my password for getting into my work computer something I’m looking forward to. A couple years ago it was “London18Paris.” This year’s password, which I’m still using, also relates to a trip I was hoping to take in 2020. Needless to say it’s not happening, but I haven’t decided what I want to change the password to.
When Sam and I go on walks, we often talk of weighty topics – the state of the world, politics, etc. Usually after such serious talk, I change the subject by saying, “Let’s talk about things you’re looking forward to.” It never fails to lighten the mood and end the walk on an up beat.
With the virus still out there in full force, a lot of things on my list of things to look forward to have been erased. I’m planning to write next week about my “20 for 2020” list and how I’m having to revise it radically due to COVID19. But there are still things, large and small, to look forward to. Here are some things I’m looking forward to right now:
I have some bananas ripening on the kitchen counter. When they get all brown and mushy there will be banana bread
I will be talking to my mother right after posting this
I broke down and did some retail therapy recently and there are a couple of packages slowly making their way to me
Saturday and Sunday!
We have daisies (my favorite flower!) growing along the entire side of our garage and they will be blooming soon
I read this article about having things to look forward to during this time of cancelled plans and an uncertain future. Maybe it will spark some ideas for you as well.
UPDATE: I am leaving the text of my original post here, but the more I read about racism in this country the more uncomfortable I am with the focus of my post on how I feel about what is going on in the US, what in fact has been going on since the first black people were brought to this country as slaves. Because the fact is that, although this blog by its very existence is about me, focusing only on how the state of our country makes me feel seems wrongheaded.
I am a white woman. I have never been followed around a store by salespeople predisposed to thinking I might steal something. The one time I was stopped by a police officer for speeding I did not fear for my life. So, my hurt at what is going on in this country is nothing next to what black Americans have gone through and are going through.
I am reading about what white people can do to help, and the thing I see most often are “educate yourself” and “listen.” So I am going to do just that. I am keeping the original content of the post below as a reminder to myself and anyone reading this that I can learn and I can be better. I am changing the title of this post from “Nourishing my Spirit” to “Ancora Imparo” because I just can’t let that original title stand.
“Ancora Imparo” is a phrase attributed to an 87-year-old Michelangelo. It means, “I am still learning.”
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The tagline of this blog is “Nourishing my mind, body, and spirit.” I have to say that my spirit has been laid low by the events of the last ten days. The country I love so much, the country I served in the Air Force and Air National Guard for nine years, is so broken that it hurts my heart.
Today we heard about a protest that was going to be held in the little downtown area of our city of 20,000 people. The idea was to stand along the main intersection during evening rush hour with signs as the cars went through our town into neighboring areas.
We walked downtown at 5:00 and stood along the road, keeping our social distance from the other protesters. I just stood there with my sign. I didn’t join in with the chants. I just stood there silently as a physical manifestation of my own beliefs. Many, many cars going by beeped their horns and indicated support with a thumbs up or some other sign.
Chris and I stayed until 6:00 and then walked home. I called my mom and then we had a birthday dinner for Chris at 7:00 with Chloe joining us via FaceTime (it being 11:00am the next day for her, she had brunch while we had dinner).
My heart still hurts, but my spirit was nourished by the belief and the hope I saw today that things can change. We can be better.
I love poetry. When I taught third grade, poetry was a big thing in my classroom. Every week my students would get a new poem for their Poetry Folder, which they would have to practice reading out loud to someone in their household each night. What I was trying to teach my students was a fluency skill called prosody, which is being able to use your voice to give meaning to the written word through intonation, rhythm, and emphasis. Have you ever struggled to understand the written word, such as perhaps in a Shakespeare play, and then upon seeing it acted out you completely understood the words? That’s the power of prosody.
On Fridays the students would perform the poem for their classmates, and the more shy ones were able to choose the “perform with a partner” option. In the month of April we would have Poetry Month, during which the students practiced writing different forms of poetry. Poetry Month culminated in an event called Poetry Cafe. Students would choose two poems to perform, either alone or with a partner. The poems could be written by themselves, a poem we worked on during the year, or some other poem they found in a book. I staged it like a beatnik coffee house of the 1950’s – the students wore black t-shirts and sunglasses, and the audience was encouraged to snap their fingers instead of clapping. There were, of course, refreshments afterwards. What an absolute blast!
After I left teaching to pursue a less stressful job option (haha!), poetry kind of dropped out of my life for a few years. Then about three years ago, my brother Richard, out of the blue, sent me the collection of Mary Oliver poems called “Devotions.” Mary Oliver is the poet who wrote the poem “The Summer Day” which includes the famous phrase, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I savored the book from cover to cover. I don’t pray these days, but Mary Oliver’s poetry feels the way the best prayer should – it elevates my spirit, gives me hope, and reminds me that both all of us and none of us is alone.
When I mulled over the writing of this post over the last couple of days, I knew that I wanted to share a poem with you. The problem is that I have so many favorites! Then my friend Daniel, in his blog Dawn Reader, shared this post about the poem “Summer Kitchen” by Donald Hall. The poem describes a prosaic evening shared between a man and a woman – in the words of the poem they “ate, and talked, and went to bed. And slept” – then ends by saying, “It was a miracle.”
Because isn’t every day truly a miracle?
I told Daniel that the vibe of “Summer Kitchen” reminded me of another poem that I love, and that I was going to steal his idea and share that poem here. Here it is:
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone. I’ll see you back here soon.
Chris in his natural habitatWorking on one of the Hunger Games movies ComposingMy first chemo, listening to Chris’ CD “Secrets” and reading messages from well-wishersAt my side through it allChris’ app TMiM being used in a local hospital’s palliative care unit
The Power of Music
My dad filled our house with music when I was growing up. Tony Bennett, Glen Campbell, Ed Ames, Montovani and his orchestra, Mason Williams – this was the initial soundtrack of my childhood, before I started listening to the radio, and before my older siblings introduced me to Jesus Christ Superstar, Jethro Tull, Joni Mitchell, Manhattan Transfer, Blue Oyster Cult, and on and on. In my early teens I discovered The Beatles and went into full obsession mode. Around the same time, I was learning to play the flute and singing in my school choir. Music has always been a friend to me, has always soothed me or lifted me up when nothing else could.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, it truly felt like the bottom fell out of my world, and I was desperately trying to grasp on to some sort of normality, some sense that things might possibly turn out all right in the end. Again, music stepped in to help.
My husband Chris has a pretty cool job. Since the early 90’s he has been part of the music production team for over 200 major films – his particular job is to ensure that the music recorded actually fits perfectly with what is happening on the screen – he uses a program called Auricle to help the conductor pace the music so that, for instance, the crescendo in the music perfectly coincides with the crescendo in the action onscreen. So, that’s his day job, but he is also an incredibly talented composer in his own right, and during my chemotherapy sessions my favorite music to listen to was a CD he recorded called “Secrets.” I used the music to help me visualize the chemotherapy healing my body. Listening to the music also helped me jump start something that kept stalling out in my heart – positivity.
Chris and I spent many long hours in the hospital during my 10 months of treatment and along the way Chris came up with the idea for what has become Therapeutic Music in Medicine (TMiM), a 501c3 public charity. TMiM consists of a music streaming app, free at the point of use, that Chris has made available to local hospitals here in Northeast Ohio. It is currently being used in oncology and palliative care settings. The music he composed for the app runs the gamut from soothing “chill” music to fast paced, energizing compositions, and is organized among ten themes. I usually use the app these days when I wake up in the night and can’t fall back asleep, or when I am feeling anxious.
Although TMiM was created to be used in a clinical setting, Chris would like to make its music available to anyone who reads this post by providing a password that you can use to access the app. Directions on how to access and download the app are below.
