"My Little Entrepreneur"

So, Missy had her annual checkup last week.  Because of her age, I get the complete blood panel and tests done on her. In addition to the tests, there are the other annual shots, renewal of her Heartworm medication, allergy shots etc and my credit card took a big hit. On the way home, with Missy on my lap, we had the "You need a job" conversation, again. 

Janet: Missy, you need to get a job. 

Missy: I don't need a job.  

Pause....thinking....then apparently, she had an idea!

Missy: Well, you know, people really seem to enjoy rubbing my belly. 

Janet: Missy, you want to charge/shake down people every time they rub your belly? 

Missy: Yes. People really seem to enjoy rubbing my belly. I can charge them $12.00 a belly rub or two for $20.00*.  Let's work on the invoices when we get home. 

So, that is Missy's plan. She intends to charge friends, family and neighbors for providing her with belly rubs. 

She assured me that she will be able to pay off her Vet bill in two months. And off she went into the back yard waiting for her first customer. 

* clearly, she has already given this some thought

A Quick Check-in

"Popcorn", "Garbage Day", "Introverts", "Dog Smudges", "Puzzles" and "Community".  These are just some of the subjects for blogs I started and either did not finish, or have finished, and not posted.

June 30th was my last blog posting - more than 2 months ago. I didn't mean for so much time to go by, it just happened. It seemed like every time I sat down to write or share, it just didn't feel right. And two months went by.

I'm having back surgery in the beginning of October, and I have spent the past three months building my strength back up from my compression fractures. It was important for me to go into the surgery starting from a good strong place.  

After slowly building up, I am now walking about 3 miles before dawn each morning. It's been great physically, but mostly and more importantly, it's been great emotionally.  Morning is my favorite time of day, and it is during these walks that I recharge and recenter my soul.  

Like many people I talk with, I have a love/hate relationship with social media.  Recently, I found that I was getting weary and worn out by it all and I needed a mental break. I didn't realize how much social media was affecting me until I paid attention and felt and saw how much it was affecting me.  Almost four years ago, I deleted my Facebook account and two years ago, my Nextdoor account. I don't have (or want) accounts with Twitter or TikTok and only have accounts with Instagram and LinkedIn - which are both on hold*.  

So, while it may still be a while before I post my deep thoughts about 'Popcorn' (ha!), I wanted to check in and let you know that I am still here.  And greatly enjoying and appreciating the return of the hummingbirds this year. The hummingbirds and the occasional butterfly. 

As always, I greatly appreciate you reading, sharing and commenting on my blog.

* still on semi-hold...just sharing this blog 😊

Releasing the Past

For more than 30 years I have carried these with me. From house to house, and from Connecticut to South Carolina, I have moved with my old journals. I started my first journal in late 1981 and the last one is dated October '93. 

What do you do with things like this? I never went back to read them, and I am certainly not going to share them with anyone. For more than 30 years, I just moved them from house to house. 

For the past 7 years the journals have been in a plastic tub in my studio closet. Earlier this month I was cleaning and I decided that I had to finally do something with them. I put them in order and beginning with the first one, I started to read my old journals. 

About halfway through 1983, I stopped reading every entry and just started skimming the pages. Shortly thereafter, I stopped reading altogether. Instead of finding this experience enlightening, I was finding it all very distressing. 

These are not my notebooks filled with "Good Things", nor were these the notebooks I keep card and mementos in. No, these were journals from what was at times unhappy and lonely. I can easily, and fondly, recall the positive experiences from this period in my life, but what I was reading about was mostly the sadness I felt. 

I am so far removed from the unhappy person whose words filled these pages that I was finding it very difficult to relive this time of my life again. I made the decision that I was going to get rid of these journals. 

I got out my paper cutter, and going journal to journal, I cut the pages into strips. Once that was done, I put the strips in the tub and filled it with water.  A little extreme perhaps, but I didn't want to think about my journals and words laying in a landfill somewhere and possibly being found. I wanted to be certain, and have the peace of knowing, that they were completely unreadable.  

As soon I threw the water-soaked mess in the garbage, I felt lighter and unburdened. These journals were taking up physical and mental space in my life and I was now free of it all.  I would be lying if I said that since then I haven't had second thoughts about my decision, but ultimately, I feel I made the right decision. 

I have always been affected and influenced by the energy around me - good and bad - and making the decision to let go of these journals has been a positive and uplifting decision for me. It may not be right for everyone, but it is exactly what I needed to do. 

 

"Good Things"

For more than 20 years, I've kept a notebook (I now have three) that I write down good things and special moments I witness in. I thought that perhaps you might enjoy some "Good Things" too. 

- Inside the Barnes & Noble and saw that there was a woman with her young boy.  They were at the Starbucks counter and the clerk came around and said to the little boy "Hi!  Are you hungry?"  The little boy replied "Yes!" and she said, with all the timing of a seasoned comic "Hello Hungry!  My name is Kelly!" Oh, how he giggled!  

- To get to the library, I take a side road. I imagine at one time it was a quiet little street, but now it has become a busy side road.  During the summer months, I often see an elderly gentleman on his riding mower, and he waves to every single car. Every single car.  And it's not a hapless wave, it is a genuine howdy kind of wave.  How do you not wave back to someone like that?  

- I was at a vintage shop taking pictures when a lovely young woman stopped and asked if she could see the pictures I was taking. She had a German accent and was positively delightful. She spoke in that charming way people do when you know that they are trying to find the right word and meaning. She looked at the pictures and pointed out things to me about color and shading. I said to her "You must be an artist; you have such a good eye". She said, "Artist no. I am an Optometrist".  

- While out driving one day I saw two elderly women sitting in lawn chairs in their driveway. They were just sitting there with their coffee watching the cars go by. I would like to be that kind of friend, the friend who will sit with you in a lawn chair in your driveway watching the cars go by. 

- I was at Walgreens picking up a prescription. At the register in front of me was a little girl about the age of 5 and she was buying a greeting card with her own money. This alone was adorable enough, but what brought me heart hugs was the little purple pocketbook that she had over her shoulder and watching her so intently count out her money from her little plastic wallet. One of the sweetest things I've ever seen. 

- When I got hurt this past spring, one of my friends in the neighborhood, Norma, made me a pound cake. Y'all, I have never experienced real-honest-to-goodness pound cake until I moved down south. My dear friend Ruth used to give me pound cake to 'pay' me for taking her on errands. She knew I wouldn't take money from her, but she knew I couldn't refuse a couple slices of pound cake. I called Norma to thank her and ask her for the recipe, and bless her heart, she recited it right there on the spot. In all her 80+ years, I imagine my sweet friend Norma has made, and gifted, an awful lot of pound cakes. 

- Since the Vietnam Veterans Memorial opened in DC in 1982, more than 400,000 items have been left there. The items range from cards, photos, military patches, baseball gloves to books and stuffed animals. Every night, the items are collected by the National Park Service and accurately identified with where it was left and who it was left for and then preserved. I never thought about what happened to the items after they were left, but now that I do, it makes me feel really good. 

- We went out to dinner last night and at the table next to us was a family - a mother, a father and their two young sons. Nothing unusual or extraordinary about that except that there was not a phone in sight. This young family was talking and laughing with each other and having a wonderful time. It was so nice to see a family engaging and enjoying each other's company.

- I was at Michaels and in front of me was an elderly gentleman. He was buying artificial flowers and he was moving very slowly while writing out his check. The cashier, her name was Barbara, was a doll. Even though she had a line, she was extremely patient and didn't rush him. In fact, she was having a lovely conversation with him which he seemed to be enjoying immensely. When he was leaving, I tapped him on the shoulder and said to him "Sir, I do believe this young gal was flirting with you". He tipped his hat and said to me "Au contraire young lady, I was flirting with her."

- I was at Spartan Photo having some adjustments done to my camera. I didn't really have any place to be, so I sat and waited at the counter while they did the work. During the 90 minutes that I was there I witnessed three different heartwarming encounters. 

The first was a woman who was picking up a canvas print of her dog Lucy. The joy on her face as she held the canvas told me that Lucy is one lucky dog.

Next, a woman came to the counter to give her name. They came out of the back room with a large envelope and handed it to her. I noticed that her hands were shaking as she opened the envelope. She pulled out the prints and immediately started crying - deep and sorrowful sobs. I got up off my stool and put my arm around her as she cried.  

She told me that this was the first time seeing these photos as they were printed from negatives she found at her mom's house. She told me that her grandparents raised her, and she then began to share the pictures with me. 

Some of the pictures showed her as an infant in the arms of her grandparents and some showed just her grandparents, but every picture, every single picture, showed joy. What a wonderful blessing to be there with her and for her to share this with me. 

The third was a gentleman who was getting a reprint made of his wedding day. He found the original and it shows him moments after his wife fed him cake. The delight that was captured in their faces was priceless. He told me that his daughter and her family were coming to visit from Missouri for their 40th wedding anniversary and he wanted to surprise everyone with this photo. 

Every morning before I rise from bed I pray and ask God to allow me to be a blessing to others this day.  What I find is that most days I am the one being blessed. 

 

The Comfort of Home

This month marks seven years since we moved to our current home here in Inman, SC.  And it has officially become the longest time we have stayed in one home in the past 26 years. Since I married Bill in 1996, we have moved five times. Seven years in this one home feels good to me now. 

Before I met Bill, I lived on the second floor in a three-family house. I lived there for a little more than 10 years, and I LOVED that apartment. It had fabulous oak hardwood floors and trim around every door and window, glass french doors from the kitchen into the living room and beautiful high ceilings. It had a long clothesline outside the back porch attached to a pole way in the backyard. That was the beginning of my fondness and obsession with hanging clothes in the fresh air. Outside of the home I grew up in, I lived in this apartment the longest. 

Sometimes when I can't fall back to sleep, I return there. I start out walking from my car around the side path, up the stairs, past by back porch and into the apartment. In my mind, I recall every single detail in its place. Sometimes I start on the right and work my mind around and sometimes I start on the left, but it's not long before I am asleep, comforted. I loved that home, not only because it was fabulous, but because of my history there. 

Over the past 26 years, Bill and I have lived in some beautiful homes. Each home had great qualities that I miss, but none of them have given me the comfort of history. Seven years, granted, doesn't seem that long, but I find that having 'history' in this home is very comforting to me right now. 

I like knowing when the morning sun will clear the top of the house and shine on the backyard. I like the light from the western sun when it shines on my plants in the kitchen in the evening and I like that I know the time of day to lower the blinds to keep the house cooler in the summer. 

I like knowing when the Carolina Jasmine in the back yard will start blooming. I like knowing when to expect the hummingbirds to return and when it's time to put out my feeders. I like knowing which trees the birds return to every year to build their nests. I like being able to say "Four years ago, we had a great Fig harvest". We've never really lived anywhere long enough to enjoy the bounty of Bill's hard work in the yard.

I like that when I take Missy for a walk I'm guaranteed to stop and talk with friends and neighbors, and Missy's sure to get a belly rub, or two. I like knowing which house is going to be the first to put up their Christmas lights and which house changes their yard flags with every holiday. 

We were the 14th house (out of 75) to be built here in Bushfork and outside of three houses, I know who lives in every single home in my community, and I like that. There have been 24 sales here in Bushfork since 2014 and 6 of the homes are on their third owners, and I knew every one of the owners. Having this knowledge, I realize, may not mean anything to anyone outside of me, but I like that I know my neighbors and neighborhood so well. I find great peace and contentment knowing the history and people in the community where I now live. 

We talk about moving again, Bill would really like to move to Florida, and it may very well happen, but at this point in my life, I am finding great comfort in staying put. 

Our Little Worm Eater

Say hello to our little worm eater.....

Yup! This sweet little girl? She's a worm eater! Charming isn't it? Missy has lived with us for almost 12 years, and this worm eating thingy just surfaced about 6 months ago. It's one step up from her cat poop eating habit, but not by much.

At first, Missy would eat the occasional dried up worm she found while we were out in the neighborhood walking. Lately, she has become OBSESSED with eating every dead worm she finds. I imagine for Missy that taking a walk is like an all-you-can-eat buffet.  Four times a day.

Thank goodness (for her and me) she does not eat live worms. At this point, she seems to only have a taste for dried-up crusty worms. And if they have been run over by a car and are smushed to the pavement?  That is not a deterrent to this gal. She will get down and gnaw on it to get it loose. Missy doesn't mind working a little bit for her worm. 

I had a long talk with our vet Dr. Vaughn about this. I was worried about the health risks of her eating worms. I was also worried that maybe there was something else going on that triggered this behavior all of a sudden - some health issue. Dr. Vaughn, whom I believe loves Missy just as much as we do, assured me that this little habit of Missy's, disgusting as it is, is really harmless and not uncommon in dogs.   

He said he talked to the other Vets at the office, and did some research, and as long as they are the earth worms she is eating, there is really no harm. He told me that he had two suggestions, but he knew I wouldn't like either.  One was to try a "behavior" medication - something like Prozac. Pass. The other was to put a muzzle on her when we walk. Definitely a pass. 

So, that is where we are at now. We share our house with a worm eater. Bless her little heart! 💓  

Repost: "Listen to my Heart" 1/14/2014

This morning I received an email from "Legacy" reminding me of my friend Leslie Lepre's passing.  April 17th will be 9 years since Leslie's death. I think of her often because she was a kind and sweet friend. I also think about her struggles and the pain she was feeling leading up to that day. What I have learned since is to listen to what is being said, as well as not being said. Bless you Leslie and rest in sweet eternal peace. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

While going through some emails this week, I came across some emails from my friend Leslie.  The good thing about being a 'saver' is that I have these wonderful treasures from my friend.  This is also what makes it a sad thing. The 17th of April will be one year since Leslie died and I miss her.

Leslie and I had very similar interests and taste, so it is not rare for me to be reminded of her and miss our friendship.  But as I read her words now, I find that I have so many different and deeper emotions than last year. 

I met Leslie through email when we both worked at ESPN.  Our work correspondence very quickly developed into a friendship when we realized we were both mad about chocolate.  Like crazy mad about chocolate.  Soon we found that we had a lot more than chocolate in common and we would talk, write and visit often.

Leslie loved to hear stories about Ginger. If she wasn't giving me chocolate, she was giving me treats to bring home to Ginger.  One of the emails I came across was one that was written after we had lost Ginger in 2011 very suddenly to cancer.  Leslie wrote to tell me she was heartbroken not only because she loved Ginger, but because she knew how much I loved Ginger.  That's the kind of friend she was.  She was always so thoughtful and cognizant of other people's needs and feelings.

Over the past few years, we weren't in contact quite as often.  We would reach out to the other whenever we had read a good book or found an awesome vintage website.  Those were two of our most common interests and we always shared new information with the other.

Leslie had a kind and gentle heart. She was also a very private person.  She held her pain and sadness very tightly and silently.  I knew she often felt overwhelmed, but I never pushed her to tell me more than she was comfortable telling me.

I should have pushed. 

Our friendship was built on what I now know were 'safe' topics. She would want to know all about the treasures I've found in South Carolina, and she'd share with me her Connecticut finds.  I would ask her about the clothes the women were wearing on "Mad Men" and she would suggest books for me to put on my list to read next.  She never shared with me her struggles and I never asked.  I didn't know to ask.

Now I know.  Now I know that what some people keep in their heart is sometimes so painful that they are simply unable or afraid to share.

If I had the chance again, I would make sure she knew how awesome she is.  How kind and gentle and sweet.  But most importantly, I would tell her that I believe in her. That she is stronger than she realizes, and she should never, ever doubt that. 

A Slow Return

Five weeks ago, I started a little not-really-necessary project in my studio. 

I like to sew, and because I am incapable of throwing anything away, I save the fabric scraps - usually cutting them into strips. I use the strips for a lot of different things: wrapping packets of cards and tying little bags of cookies when I give them away, braiding them into heavier strips, anchoring stray cords, securing plants in the house and yard, etc. I've been sewing for over 20 years, and I have a lot of fabric strips. Sometimes I need a long strip and sometimes I need a short strip, so I decided that I was going to make separate baskets for the strips. 

It was a totally mindless activity, but one which I still found greatly satisfying. I am both tactile and visual, so I really enjoy working with fabric. It was a pretty day in the studio, and I was getting caught up on some podcasts while I rediscovered fabric from years ago.

The next morning, February 22nd, I had a seizure after fainting and suffered three separate trauma-induced compression fractures of my vertebrae. I was in a tremendous amount of pain and spent much of the next few weeks medicated and in bed. Looking through the doorway and seeing my unfinished project was too much for me. I was unable to see that returning to my studio was a "goal". In those early weeks, it felt too much like a taunt, so I closed the door to the studio. 

During a four-week period, I had met with an Orthopedic Neurosurgeon, three different spine specialists, Dr Spinks three times, and an internal medicine doctor. I had four different sets of x-rays, one MRI, and I was on six different medications. I am wearing a fitted corset back brace that weighs 8 pounds while my own weight is down 12 pounds. It had been a rough four weeks but early this week, I opened the studio door. 

I still don't feel quite strong enough to resume my project but this past Tuesday morning, I opened the studio door.  And right now, I'll take that. 

Not Broken

In the morning on Tuesday February 22nd, I fainted while getting blood work. I fainted and then had a seizure that lasted about 4 minutes. I started out seizing in the chair and then was helped to the floor by the phlebotomist. During those four minutes, either while I was in the chair, or on the floor, I fractured 3 vertebrae in my back - T7, T8 & T9. 

Before I fainted, I remember telling the young gal that it was starting to hurt (she was in a second attempt to draw blood) and I remember her telling me that I was getting pale. Then, I came to on the floor vomiting (thank goodness it was a fasting draw so I was retching nothing but water) with a room full of people. I heard bits of conversations; fainted, seizure, her husband.. And then I heard my Doctor's voice, as she bent down to me. 

I've been a patient of Dr Spinks for about 7 years. She is one of those Doctors that truly listen to you when you talk, who will take the time to answer all your questions thoroughly and will call you after hours with lab results. Good Doctors will do this. And I cried when I saw her. They got my phone and called Bill to tell him what happened and instructed him to go to the emergency room. I was taken from the lab via ambulance to the emergency room.  

What followed was a week of excruciating pain. I couldn't talk, sit or stand - I could do little more than lay in bed on heavy pain pills. Because of my sensitivity to medication, I could not tolerate a full-strength pain pill, so the pill was halved, and I took it every three hours - round the clock. During the night, Bill set his alarm and woke me up every three hours to give me my medication. I don't remember much of the first 6 days other than my heart was full of gratitude for this man I married. 

Bill created lists to keep track of my medications, kept my moist heat pad heated (it was one of the only things that helped the pain), helped me in and out of bed, made sure I ate and kept the house going. He took Missy for her walks and kept up on her quota of belly rubs and took her to the vet. He didn't leave the house but two times in 6 days - for food and my medication. I truly and sincerely do not where I would have been if I didn't have Bill. This doesn't surprise me, I've spent 25+ years with him, I know what kind of man he is. 

As I've shared, Missy is not a snuggly kind of dog. Without a doubt, Missy is a very loving and sweet dog, she does not snuggle but I know she loves me. Every time I woke up, Missy was laying in the bedroom at the foot of the bed, taking care of me in the best way that she knows how, by her presence. When I was able to move to the couch, she slept on the floor near the couch. If I stirred, she lifted her head to check on me and when I got up, she followed me. 

Ten days after my injury I was able to sit upright for 5 minutes at a time and that is how I worked on this blog, five minutes at a time. I wanted to get this done because there are so many people that I need to thank, so many people that I need to express my gratitude to. Family, friends and neighbors, so many people called, sent texts, cards, flowers and food. 

They came to my house to drop off flowers and food. They sent texts knowing that I was not strong enough to answer them and called knowing that I couldn't talk and yet they still reached out to me. To let me know that they were with me. That they are praying for me.  

When the pain has me crying for relief, when I am praying for the pain medication to kick in and for some rest, I find comfort, peace and safety in their words and actions like a quilt that I pull up around me.

I am two weeks out from my injury and two weeks from a scheduled surgery (kyphoslasty) to fix the fractures. There have been small victories to be celebrated and there have been setbacks which we don't dwell on. We move forward with grateful hearts.

My Cup

I was, I am, a "people pleaser".  The difference between the people pleasing Janet then, and the people pleasing Janet now, is that it no longer defines me. 

It took a lot of reflection, prayer and resolve for me to understand that my self-worth is not based on how my offering was received. I am no longer a "people pleaser", my intent now is to please people. The rearrangement of these two words made a big difference. 

I am, and always have been, a nurturer. I give and do things for others because it brings me tremendous joy and satisfaction to do so. Unfortunately, there were times that I allowed the acceptance, or appreciation, of my gestures and actions to dictate how I felt as a person. It was unfair and wrong of me to place this silent obligation on the receiver. A gift is a gift and not something that should ever have strings attached to it, seen or unseen.

For most of my early adult life, I held out my cup and asked others to fill my cup. I know now, what I wished I learned earlier, is that the cup is mine to fill. 

"Happy Photos"

How about some "Happy Photos"! I realized that my last few blog entries have been rather 'heavy' so I thought I would share with you some of the pictures that I keep on my "Happy Photos" thumb drive.  

All the photos have been taken by me, although not all of them have my name on them. I used to put my name on every single photo that I posted on Facebook (back when I was on FB) or on Instagram - I do it sometimes now, but not always. 

Some of the photos are 'staged' and some are random 'I was in the right place' shots, but they all make me happy.  

It is my hope that one or two will make you happy, or perhaps smile! 💓😊

Passages

My neighbor across the street from us died recently.  He was only 45 years old. I wrote about him briefly in my blog (Missy Makes Me Laugh: Outside my Window). Barrett purchased a home that was only about 3 years old and totally renovated it before he moved in.  

I watched the activity outside my studio window. I saw the workers there almost every single day. They worked all winter (mainly) in the garage - no matter how cold it was outside. A few times a week his mother, Diane, would come in to help with the renovation and the decorating. Seeing what was coming out, and what was going into the house, had me very curious. I couldn't wait to see the finished home.   

One day I got my chance and Barrett took me on a tour of his home. It was stunning. Every single detail was perfect. Most of his furnishings were high-end antiques and so carefully and thoughtfully selected. Barrett told me about the antique shopping trips he shared with his mother. They both enjoyed taking road trips and attending auctions and estate sales and did it as often as they could. 

After approximately six months of renovation, he moved into his home around the end of March this past year.  Barrett died less than a year from his move-in date. 

Recently I met a young man that owns an estate liquidation business and he needed help with a home. The home belonged to an elderly couple in their late 90's who were moving into an assisted living center. The family had been there previously and what remained were the items that they did not want. There was still so much left behind, a houseful really. As I was helping Tyler clean out drawers and closets, I uncovered boxes of pictures, albums of travel itineraries and stacks of cards and letters. All left behind. 

I am sentimental and I am a 'saver', two traits that have the potential to overwhelm me at times. I am overwhelmed not only with my own things, but with other peoples' things as well. As much as I knew that I needed to distance myself from this task, I was finding it difficult to do. 

As I was going through the things, I couldn't help but be saddened by the circumstances. How did it come to this? This couple spent more than 50 years living in this home, raising a family, traveling and creating memories only to have it sorted out by two complete strangers. 

I went directly from helping Tyler to the visitation for Barrett. Two different but similar circumstances which filled me with such sadness. Barrett spent months preparing a home that he would live in for less than a year, and a couple that had spent 50+ years living in a home that they left behind. I lay awake all night thinking about my day. 

I struggle with it. I struggle with the finality of it all. My beliefs reassure me that this all is just temporary. Our final home will be much grander than anything we can even imagine. But yet, I still struggle at times with it here now. 

We spend our lives creating a life and memories and all we can really hope for is that someone will recognize, remember and honor our existence after we are gone.