Address Book of Life

Two people in my cell phone contacts are no longer living.

It's the same problem I have with my address book.

Once, I drew a line through someone's name who died.

Everytime I looked at it, it seemed like such a cold thing to do.

I always write my addresses in pencil to make changes easier.

I've tried erasing names, but usually I can still see the name.

It seems ghostly.

I've tried writing, "Died" with the date. That seemed more memorial.

This week a friend died in childbirth.

For some reason, I went right to my cell phone contacts and looked at her number.

I thought, "Now what am I going to do?"

If I delete it, it will be gone forever.

I left it there.

I then checked to see if mom's number was still there.

It was.

I left it, too.

I think one day, I will feel comfortable not transfering them to the next phone and address book.

Not yet.

Kerry Martin was a lovely wife, a fantastic public servant and a joy to be around. Although she was only able to mother little Austin as he grew in her womb, she still was a great mother, too.

Advice about Advice

I admire people who give advice.

If I like their advice, I admire them more.

If they are living under their own advice, that’s helpful to know.

Advising is a tough job.

I used to give a lot of advice.

Most of it was second hand advice, "Here's what someone once told me..."

Now I feel very constrained about dolling out words of wisdom, fonts of fine words and ample admonitions.

I've seen others too often follow advice that was not meant for them.

I've given advice to others that was meant for me, without using it for myself, and made a mess in two households.

Just because you are in hearing or reading distance from some nice sounding advice, doesn't mean it's for you.

Just because some advice is good for you, doesn’t mean it’s good for everyone else.

The opposite of that is someone who can't take advice - or even a hint.

I’ve probably spent too much time asking for and taking advice.

The balance is sometimes difficult to get right.

I’m trying to take more time discerning advice rather than simply gathering it.

I think that’s good advice - but you should decide that for yourself.

I Just Explained Europe - You're Welcome.

Unfortunately, I was born in a time when people are obsessed with ADD.

What kind of disorder does one have when one is obsessed with identifiying ADD in others?

I wish they would find a cure for this newest disorder so that people would stop pointing out that they are sure I have ADD.

If I did not have 10,000 things to distract me, I would not be defending myself against accusations of having a "disorder" that really is not about me.

It's about stuff around me.

It doesn't help that I live in America.

If I lived in a country where there was war and people were trying to kill me, I would be focused - on not being killed.

A nice sharp focal point like this would be helpful.

If I follow my own logic, war is the cure for ADD.

I just explained Europe.

Some Times

Mom with Sam, Elizabeth and Tink

Once again I'm thinking a lot about Mom. Every time someone asks me how I'm doing after her death, I have a different answer.

Sometimes the answers are different because of who is asking, sometimes it's different because of time limits. I just don't have the time to explain, so I give a brief answer that does not come close to how I really feel.

The real answer is that sometimes I don't know how I feel.

Another answer is that I feel different each day.

On some occasions, I'm sad about the decisions I made about her care.

Sometimes I'm just sad.

Sometimes I laugh at the some of the strange things that happened as a result of her Alzheimer's and I want to talk about them and tell people the stories.

Sometimes I want to know all the answers about what is truly right and wrong with end of life issues.

Sometimes I don't think there were many good choices.

Sometimes I think I did the best I could, so it was the best.

Most of the time, I realize that some of the answers will come later, some of the questions are not answerable and some questions are too hard to ask right now.

Today, I'm doing the Scarlett O'Hara thing:

"I'll think about that tomorrow."

The Eyes Have It

Sam: That's my boy!

Several times over my mothering career, I've made comments about all the faces that my children make.

Friends remind me that the kids come by it honestly because I am so animated.

This picture of Sam epitomizes one of our favorite facial expressions - it usually doesn't include chicken bones or the claw hand, but the eyes have it.

Special Order Fingers

Piano lessons today. Elizabeth is now taking piano lessons. I bought a piano keyboard last year when we were making good money. By the time I got the keyboard home and tried to make plans for lessons, Kevin lost his job.

The piano has been stored standing on end in various places around the house for this entire time. Now that we are making money again, I found a teacher and we went last week for the first lesson.

When I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I had a dream that she was born without fingers. I prayed so hard throughout the rest of the preganancy that she would be OK, that when she was born, we couldn't believe the size of her fingers. They were the longest, skinniest fingers I'd ever seen on a newborn!

You have to understand that "stubby" best describes Kevin's and my fingers, so it wasn't us.

I'm sure I prayed those fingers on.

Our first thought when we saw them was, "Those are piano fingers!"

Sure enough when the teacher saw her postition herself at the piano for the first time, she commented on her piano fingers.

I look forward to hearing the music from those special order fingers!

Drive Time

Do you remember when you were a kid and your dad would let you DRIVE?




First, maybe you could drive a riding lawn mower. Then you would graduate to driving around the driveway or around on private property in whatever vehicle your mom would not have a heart attack over?

Here are my kids, Elizabeth, 14 and Sam,12 having their first driving adventures at Kevin's dad's property in Prescott Valley.

City kids don't get these opportunities as often as those in rural America.

Either way, America...what a country!

Birthday Breakfasts

Today is my husband, Kevin's, birthday. He is 43. The kids are making a breakfast for him. I went to the store at 5:30am this morning to buy the right kind of bread for making french toast. Sam, 12, has become an expert french toast maker.

Kevin and Sam have this in common: They both love to cook breakfast. You'd think they'd accomplished cold fushion.

They set the table, use every pot and pan I have and usually get a flower or two in a vase. The food is fine, but the delight I get from seeing them be so proud is more delicious.

I also wanted to buy him a movie. He wanted "Surf's Up", an animated movie about surfing penguins. That's my Kevin.

Kevin is taking the day off from work and we are going to relax. I still have to do a pile of invoices, but after that, I'm good.

Enough about me, now, what do you think about me?

I wrote about one of my favorite childhood memories and sent it to a friend in Idaho. She asked me if she could reprint it on her blog. Of course, I said ,"Yes!" She is the author of several books and a very talented and funny person. I was honored.

Instead of repeating it here, I'd love for everyone to go to her blog and read it. Enjoy her tales, too. She is the heart of North Idaho and true rural America!

My story is at the bottom of her May 12, 2009 blog. It's called "Of Jules and Julie." - cops and cows.

Go to Marianne Love's blog at http://www.slightdetour.blogspot.com/ Enoy!

The Very Definition of Contrast

My mom kept an immaculate house.

I keep my house absolutely free of radioactive material.

My mom had dinner on the table every day at 5:35pm - including dessert.

I am aware of the locations of some grocery stores.

My mother folded all the clothes directly out of the dryer and they were immediately delivered to the appropriate and neat drawer or closet.

My family has actually developed scientific ways to determine if clothes left in the washing machine have grown mold or not – they smell them.

My mother canned thousands of jars of fruit, vegetables and meats over her lifetime.

I own a can opener.

My mother quilted bedspreads for every member of her family.

I still use those quilts.

My mother compiled and cataloged hundreds of recipes in her homemaking career.

I keep all three of my recipes in my head.

My mother never ate the cookie dough when she made cookies.

I’ve had to go to the store to get more ingredients after consuming enough cookie dough to diminish the first batch of dough to enough for four finished cookies.

My mother planted thousands of flowers and plants and kept them looking beautiful to the fullest extent of their lives.

I made an agreement with my husband that I would keep the children alive, but all other living things are on their own.

Back to Life & Weight Loss

After a week in Montana, return week off, then Mother's Day, I am now faced with getting back to the daily grind.

I have to get the kids through some school work today, take the car into the shop because the air conditioner went out (conveniently during our first week of over 100 degree weather), I committed to do some campaign work, I have to get the business books in order and my house is showing the signs of weeks of neglect.

Additionally, now that I am back in the swing of things, I need to face the fact that I HAVE TO LOSE THIS WEIGHT.

I now have all this exercise equipment in my office, I have a ton of videos and a weight loss system that I bought off an infomercial

AND if I don't get it off, I will not be able to get insurance!

We have to buy our insurance privately and you can't get it or can't afford it, if you are morbidly obese; yes, you heard me - MORBIDLY obese.

Someone asked me, "How do you know you're Morbidly Obese?" Well, they have charts and to find my weight, my little finger went right up the line passed overweight, passed obese and my number was in the morbidly obese zone.

The other way I could tell is that last night while I was eating Whoppers at my desk, one fell on the floor and when I bent over to pick it up, I fell on the floor and could barely get up. There. See. It's not hard to tell.

Look Out Hallmark

Thought I'd share with you the lovely card I got from my son. Here is the text on the heart-shaped card he cut himself:

To: Mom

From: Sam

YOU ARE THE MOM WHO MADE MY HEART HOLE AGAIN! (OPEN)

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

TO THE BEST MOM IN THE WORLD!!!!!!

THE MOM WHO TOLD ME TO BRUSH MY TEETH AND

COMB MY HAIR AND

TIE MY SHOES

AND CLEAN MY ROOM

AND LOVE GOD.

I love this but I also learned some things.

First, I need to teach him the difference between "hole" and "whole".

And next, I evidently nag him a lot.

And finally, when God rates below shoe tying, I might want to check my prioritites.

Mom

This is the first Mother's Day without my mom.

Dona Lee Liden Imholte passed away on February 9, 2009. In the months before she died, I took care of her as she suffered from Alzheimer’s and her body struggled to maintain her lifestyle of constant movement and work.

In the end, she depended on me,
not necessarily because I was her daughter,
because some of that went away with the disease,
but because she sensed that I understood her
and what she needed.
And I did.

Even though she didn’t know that I understood her because I was her daughter, it is indeed the reason.

I was always convinced we were so different. When I was young, I thought it was because I was adopted. When I got older, I thought it was because we had different worldviews. Now I know it doesn’t matter that we were different.

We were mother and daughter.

I think that Alzheimer’s is one of the meanest diseases one can suffer from, but it offered an opportunity for me to spend a lot of time with mom and to concentrate on her.

She needed me - and I needed her.

Because she was my mom.

And I was her daughter.

This Makes Me Smile

I like this picture. It hangs on the wall of my office.

It's by a local artist and was given to me by the mayor.

My friends know that I have a political crush on the Bush family.

I think W., Rummy and Cheney would laugh if they saw it.

Opinions

We live in a day when people are airing their opinions at an alarming rate. I'm sure people have done it for millennia – on cave walls, around the city gates, at church, and in newspapers.

I think the real opinion stampede started with Phil Donahue. What do you think about “X”? – then talk about it for an hour. Back then, only five people in the audience got to say their peace and the rest of the country was left to talk to the TV set. Then came Oprah. Then came talk radio and if you got through the phone lines and the host let you talk, boy, you’d really had some exposure!

Opinions found their way to the internet; I suppose e-mail was the first sneeze of the opinion virus.

Now of course, we have My Space, Facebook, Twitter and Blogs. Opinions have been exposed to these radioactive devices and the Opinion Monster is now eating whole cities and countries.

It won’t surprise you to learn I have a theory on opinions.

I don’t think people should fight over opinions. Opinions are not facts. Opinions are not valuable.

Opinions are worth exactly what you pay for them.

Opinions have no physical substance and therefore cannot run you over like a car. They are air, but they have no power to even turn a pinwheel, let alone a windmill.

Let people have their opinions unmolested by your own.

I like to listen to other people’s opinions, especially if they differ from my own. Sometimes just letting people speak their opinion allows them to hear themselves and test the veracity of it. You don’t even have to point out that they may be wrong, they can hear it themselves.

Listening to people who share my own opinions seems repetitive. (Although sometimes it is comforting.)

Getting combative over other’s opinions is a colossal waste of time and usually means you have other issues beside a differing opinion.

If one person gives an opinion and invites you to give yours, an exchange is not the same as a battle. There’s no reason to pierce the other person’s opinion or to hit them on a personal level as a response. Put your opinion next to theirs and see which one stands. No other work involved.

The only caveat to my “Don’t fight over opinions” Theory is that actions arising from opinions are quite another matter.

I have to go now because my little boy wants to me stare at a Golden Grahams box to see if I can see the hidden image and in my opinion, that’s valuable.

First Post

I spoke to a friend today about the fact that I had started a blog.

She said she also had a blog.

I am not special.

I must keep this in mind as I ruminate.

I have theories about certain things.

Theories do not have to be correct, they can even be fanciful. They simply have to be somewhat plausible. Admittedly, my theories are a work in progress. My theories are usually plausible, even if it’s just in my mind. Since I’m not held to any standard, I’m comfortable with this.

Here is an example of one of my theories. I developed this as a young child and have had no reason to reject it.

When a person yawns in proximity to another person or persons, others will yawn because they are intrinsically selfish. I’ll explain: One person has drawn a sudden intake of the available air with an intial yawn - beyond what others are inhaling - and the others then feel – albeit subconsciously – that they have been deprived of their fair share and they then feel compelled to compensate by inhaling more air in return - thus, the return yawn.

From the Start

I intend to learn to blog.

This is my first attempt.

I would like to put into words snippets of my life, thoughts and interests.

I would like to not embarrass myself.

Let's see how far I can get.