Day 106 of 365

Well, I've made a decision.

Actually, I didn't really make the decision. The decision was made by the universe.

I've always believed things work out the way they're supposed to. When things are rough for my daughter I remind her of that. When things are rough for my mom, I remind her. And sometimes I have to remind myself.

The belief that things work out for the best started back before we were married.

The week before our wedding we were shopping at a mall and my husband had a seizure. The mall was closer to his parents' house than ours, so I drove him there. On the way we got a flat tire. A lovely older couple stopped and the gentleman changed our tire for us. After getting to his parents' and then to the hospital, he was referred to another hospital. He had to undergo numerous tests and was prescribed anti-seizure medication the week before our wedding and  I wound up replacing all four tires.

As bad as things were emotionally, physically, and financially during that day and that week I knew it worked out the way it was supposed to. A week later we were on our honeymoon, in the mountains, in a remote cabin without a phone. I kept thinking how much worse things would have been if the seizure had happened while we were there with no way to contact anyone. And how much more difficult it would have been to get down from that mountain with a flat tire. And how much farther the hospital would have been. It worked out for the best.

Last year when I decided to take a year's leave of absence because of the problems with my back, I wasn't confident it was the right decision. Who could have predicted I would need to have two more surgeries after the leave of absence started and would wind up in physical therapy for eight more months? Continuing to work would have been a disaster. The leave of absence worked out.

I knew taking the leave came with risks. Like not having a job to return to. Which is what happened this spring. I found out budget cuts meant there would be no job for me to return to. I was okay with that. I figured the universe was telling me it was best I stay home and recover for a bit longer.

I do love how I spend my time now. And if I had my druthers, I'd continue doing what I'm doing with no changes. I've enjoyed this non-stressful, non-adrenaline, nonchalant, working-on-getting-healthier filled life. But I know in the back of my mind that my time here at home - all day, every day, all by myself - isn't allowing me to live up to my full potential. I know I have some skills that I should be putting to better use.

And it just so happened there was an unexpected resignation in our school district recently. I had contemplated applying for this particular position a few years back. A position that folks I worked with were encouraging me to go for. After careful consideration, I had decided not to pursue it.

Now it was open again. A part-time gig. In the same school district. Not working with kids. More time working on technical writing type things - reports, budgets, grants, meetings. Some flexibility in the days I went in. (Like being able to avoid some of those pesky Thursdays and Fridays I have.) Would get to keep my own office.

If someone analyzed my skills, strengths, and experience and created the perfect job to highlight those things, this job would be it. A position the universe believes is the best for me at this time.

So I have a new job. I'm going back to work.

I'll still have some time off during the summers. Since it's a part-time position, I'll still have time during the school year to work on my 365 days of pictures and blog writing. I'll still continue my exercising and my charity quilts.

My one hope in going back is that I can hold on to the person I've become and be better at my job because of it. I know I'm a different person than I was when I walked out of the school building a year ago. A more whole person. Whether it was having to suffer through pain, or writing every day, or ?, but it has changed me.

So in a couple months the balancing act between home and work will begin.

My balancing act today was between inside and outside, roses and quilts. My Cotillion roses won.

Day 105 of 365

Today was a yay-wow-yum-cool-good-ouch-oh-whew-yes day.

My husband accuses me of making too many comments about things. It could be I picked it up as a teacher being used to kids using words like cool and yesss and awww in the classroom and on the playground. Or it might come from being home all by myself with no one to talk to. There would be no voices heard all day if I didn't say ouch when I got up or oops when I dropped a fork or oh no when the washing machine leaked.

Now that he's home I'm still making those comments. Like today.

My new free fabric kits came for making some more kids quilts. Yay!

I took him to his barber here in our town so he could get a hair cut. She also trimmed an inch or so off my hair. And only charged me $5 for the trim. Wow!

Our video store is right across the street from the barber so we stopped and got soft serve twist ice cream cones before heading back to the house. Yum!

I got an e-mail from Marcie who shared a link (here) for quilts made with baby clothes. So cool!

I received a phone call from my doctor. The biopsy they did of my esophagus last week came back okay. Good!

We also worked in the vegetable garden today. We weeded and I clipped back some of our tomato plants. I sat on a five gallon bucket with lid to clip the tomatoes. In between plants I stood up and my kneecap slipped out of its groove. I've learned when that happens not to force it back into place. Just straighten the knee, bend the knee, straighten the knee, bend the knee, until it goes back. Ouch!

Bending over pulling weeds? Oh, the back!

Getting through my time on the exercise bike with my knee still hurting a bit? Whew!

Seeing what was hiding under all those tomatoes vines? Yesss!

Day 104 of 365

I've always had a hankering for vocabulary.

Although my writing style is informal on this blog, I can be more formal when necessary. It takes me some time, but I can sound like I'm quite intelligent when it comes to the written word.

When I was in high school and took the ACT for college, I scored in the 99th percentile on the English portion of the test. Just fine for getting me out of taking some English classes in college.

When I was working on getting into graduate school a couple years back, I had to take the GRE (Graduate Record Exam). It was an incredibly long and difficult test. I came away with very respectable scores on the verbal section (which included vocabulary). Not bad for being away from college for 15 years.

But this week I learned a new use of a very common word. A word that was not on the GRE.

Crumbs.

Not there are crumbs in the bottom of the toaster. Not don't get crumbs on the floor. More like I have a lot of crumbs left over from the quilts I've made. Crumbs meaning small scraps of fabric. Pieces too small to do much with.

I not only learned what a crumb is this week, but I learned I could do something with them. And boy, am I using them!

I'm making more quilt blocks out of them. From the tutorial here, I've started a blue themed baby boy quilt - another one for the Quilts for Kids organization.

I've been mindlessly running my sewing machine for the last couple days putting these together. The next step will be to do a white (?) border and put them into a quilt top.

And the best part? No more blue scraps filling up my scrap basket. The worst part? Now I'm hooked on making them and have to decide what color to use up next.

Hope to have this crumby one put together soon.

Day 103 of 365

We've always had a thing for roses.

Back when we were in college and had just met, my husband (then boyfriend) was renting a house that had rose bushes out front. Huge rose bushes that had been neglected for many years. We took pruners to them and clipped them low. In the spring they came back with abundance, covered in gorgeous flowers.

After we were married we lived near a park that had a rose garden in it. My husband used to bring me roses from that rose garden. (I think that's called stealing.) Now that rose garden in the park is quite large and has clearly marked signs about taking (stealing) those roses.

When I first started teaching, we moved into a rental where the landlord gave us free reign over the yard. We could dig, plant, tend - whatever we wanted. We put in flowers, a vegetable garden, and a rose garden.  At least we attempted the rose garden. We had spent Spring Break on the Oregon Coast and on the way back made a stop at Jackson and Perkins to buy roses straight from the grower. Despite our best attempt at getting the roses to grow, we failed. At that time we didn't know anything about soil or nutrients, or even how best to water them.

But when we moved into the house we own now, there was a section of the yard that was dirt and weeds. It had a sprinkler system within it and looked like it possibly had been a garden at some point. We didn't know what to do with it so we left it.

By the next year, we decided to make it a flower garden. We dug up the weeds, rototilled it, and mapped out where the beds would go. We purchased landscape timbers for the beds and gravel for the pathways. Over the course of the spring, summer, and fall, a rose garden came into being.

Since then, we've continued to add roses. At one point we had 75 roses in the garden, but after 10 years of Idaho winters, we've lost some of them to the cold. Bugs and diseases have taken some others. But we still have a lot left. Oranges, reds, yellows, whites, peach, pinks, and purples.

It's certainly not like the Lynn Anderson song I Never Promised You a Rose Garden.

Actually, it is exactly like Lynn Anderson. Since Lynn Anderson is the first rose ever planted in our garden. And another one of my favorites.

Day 102 of 365

For me, Sundays aren't what they used to be. They're turning into lazy Sundays.

I used to listen to the radio every Sunday morning. At 9 every Sunday, Casey Kasem's American Top 40, the 70's edition, used to be on the oldies radio station. So I'd get up, read the paper, eat some breakfast, and clip and file coupons all while listening to the 3 hours of music. For years that was my routine.

But several months ago Casey Kasem was moved to Sunday night instead Sunday morning.

Then a couple months back we stopped our newspaper because the carrier just couldn't get the delivery straight. Sometimes we'd get a delivery every day even though our subscription was only a Sunday and holiday one. Some Sundays the paper would be in the driveway, some Sundays it would be in the paper box, some Sundays it would be in both places, and some Sundays we wouldn't get it at all. After six different calls to the newspaper office, we finally decided to stop our delivery.

And no Sunday paper means no coupons. No coupons means an empty coupon binder. But it also means no clipping, filing, and sorting on Sunday. Which actually isn't a bad thing. After couponing since 1984 it's been kind of nice not to be tied to that routine anymore. I still print some coupons from the internet, and one time we went to the store to buy the paper, but now I'm relying on my daughter's leftover coupons to get me through.

So no Casey Kasem, no newspaper, and no coupon clipping has freed up my Sundays.

Except Sundays are becoming "watch NASCAR on TV" days. Before this year I had never watched NASCAR before, but now it's the one and only routine we have on Sundays.

Sundays seem lazier when the most exciting part of the day is watching television.

Being a lazy Sunday, it only makes sense that I take a picture of a lazy cat.

Day 101 of 365

I think I might add squirrels to the list of things that scare me.

Lizards are probably number one. That goes back to when I was a little girl at my Great Grandma and Granddad Hudson's house. There were lots of lizards, darting everywhere. My cousins would run around catching them. Catching them and pulling their tails off. 35 years after that is when I saw my next lizard - in Moab, Utah. I couldn't hardly even look at the thing without getting scared. Keep them away from me, please!

Snakes are number two. I never cared much for snakes. I knew to respect them when we used to go hiking when I was a kid. I learned to make sure your walking stick hits the ground before your feet. It's better they strike at that as opposed to striking your ankles. But another incident is what pushed me over the edge in the snake department.

When my daughter was a baby we were living in a rented mobile home out in the country. We had a mice problem (mice might be considered my number three scary creature). We had traps set all over and caught mice every week. We kept searching for where they were getting in and were always plugging up holes. But we obviously missed one under the cabinets/sink somewhere. Because one day I opened a cabinet under the counter to find a large snake. And snake babies.

My first reaction was a scream. Followed by a call to the landlord who asked me what kind of snake it was. I had no intention of finding out. They sent their grandkids down to take care of the snake problem. These were ranch kids who had seen - and dealt with - plenty of snakes before. They opened the cabinet, but the babies were no where to be found. They did get the big snake from the cabinet.

But not before that snake got out, slithered across the floor, and went under the pantry door.

A sight I will never forget. A sight that, to this day, keeps me as far away from snakes as possible.

But now, a squirrel. As I was headed out to the clothesline today to hang up my newly finished baby quilt, I encountered a squirrel. Running under my feet as I rounded the corner of the house. Which wouldn't have scared me, but that same squirrel jumped right up on the tree trunk. The tree trunk closest to my clothespin bag. And that squirrel parked himself on that tree trunk and stared at me. And wouldn't move. And looked as if he was about to pounce on me. As I tried to get closer to the clothespin bag, he reminded me of the squirrel jumping out of the tree in the movie Christmas Vacation. If you haven't seen the scene, it's here. Notice the look on the squirrel's face as he's ready to jump out of the tree. That's what I saw. Exactly like it. Not nearly as cute to me like he was back on Day 89.

Even after telling the squirrel a couple times that he was scaring me (like he'd listen), he refused to move. Finally, he decided to jump on a higher branch.

That gave me the chance to get my quilt up and my picture taken. Better this picture than a squirrel attack picture.

Day 100 of 365

Wow. One hundred days.

A hundred days of taking pictures. A hundred days of writing.

Of finding a way to get through the day. A hundred days of trying not to think about pain. (Some of those days I wasn't good at that one.) Of trying to mask the pain and frustration I feel from those around me. (Okay, not always good at that one, either.)

One hundred days worth of sewing, baking, gardening, bird watching, and Target shopping. Of paying it forward with quilts and and concert tickets and expired coupons.

Of downsizing, yet buying more fabric to finish up quilts. One hundred days of trying to focus on the needs of others and on life around me.

A hundred days of self-reflection. Of telling my story.

Of physical therapy, doctor's appointments, medical tests, injections. A hundred days of hoping for a better life.

Of learning to start an exercise habit (54 days in a row now, a little over 16 miles on the bike this week), of kicking the sugar addiction, and of starting to eat salads (even though I still have to mix it with something else).

One hundred days of (trying) to coming to terms with my physical limitations.

Of trying to answer the crucial questions. How do I move on? How can I be a useful, productive citizen when I can't even stand long enough to wash dishes, cook dinner, or brush my teeth? (Not to worry - I do brush my teeth properly, but I have to sit.)

Back on Day 1 I didn't know if I'd ever make it to Day 100.

But here we are. I am still here. I am alive and breathing.

Back on Day 1 I was thankful for my family, for my husband as breadwinner, and for my daughter who let me live with her for my last surgical recovery. I was thankful for the cat that climbed up on me when I wasn't feeling so great and for the roof over my head. I was thankful for the view of the river I have from my living room window. And thankful that on some days I was able to do things that benefited others like collecting coupons to send to military families, making blankets for babies, and making cookies for my physical therapists.

After 100 days I can now add more to that thankful list.

I'm so thankful for my gardens, my ability to write, my camera (for sure!), my commitment to exercising, my time spent sewing for others, the birds that appear out my window, and the beauty around me.

100 days ago I wasn't spending time searching and recognizing the beauty around me. I was lost and didn't know where I was going. I was wandering and floundering in my own pool of unknowns. Bitter and angry.

So many unknowns are still present, but I'm learning to be a better (as opposed to a bitter) person despite my physical restrictions.

And 100 days later I'm thankful to those of you who read my blog and to those who comment on what I write. I'm thankful for your support as I continue to move forward. And thankful that you hang in there with me even when the only things you're reading about are complaints from me.

I couldn't have predicted I'd be where I am now 100 days ago. I can't even imagine where the next 100 days are going to take me!

But on this day - Day 100 - I again discovered beauty in my rose garden. Another rose opened up today.

It just so happens to be the one called "Peace".