Day 689

Looks like I've got some people joining me in taking cold weather pictures. Nancy sent this one of icicles on the roses outside her window.

And my contribution for the day? More of that freezing fog. Looks like snow from afar, but up close it looks like ice shavings.

Day 688

I know I need to stop but I can't. There are just too many good pictures this winter!

Day 687

While this is technically another cold picture (taken on another very cold day), let's pretend it isn't.

After all, it IS the sun.

Day 686

I can't stop taking pictures of cold things. Lucky for all of us, I'm only posting one of them today!

Day 685

This notice is to inform you that the request for benefits (for infusions) has been denied based upon our review of the information provided by (your doctor).

I thought the third time might be the charm. The insurance company would take pity on me, look at my lengthy medical records and my even lengthier list of medications taken over the course of the past few years, and render a favorable decision. No such luck. Three pre-approvals submitted, three denied.

Whatever.

I'm just gonna keep on keepin' on. Steroids are helping with the pain, but are coming with a whole slew of side effects. Again, whatever.

At least they help me enough to spend lots of time quilting. The local bank collects and displays quilts donated for the Marsing Disaster Auction, so if you happen to be in Marsing anytime before February 2, stop by and take a look at this big (56" x 56") beauty. Done by me. (Still not thrilled about the orange, but from afar it looks pretty darn good.)

Day 684

When you're young you think you're invincible. You will live forever, work forever, play, go out, do whatever it is you do forever. In my husband's case, he thought he was going to teach forever. He knew retirement would come someday, but no where in the near distant future.

But when you get sick, really sick like he was, your perspective changes. It changes who you are in the present, it changes how you look at the future. It shifts your priorities. Life becomes too short to squander it away. Too short to be wasting your time on things that no longer matter. Things like a big house.

At one point in our lives we had been dreaming of retiring to Arizona, but then figured retirement would come and go and we'd still be right here in Marsing. Sitting in our 4 bedroom, 3 bath house on a large lot with a rose garden, a vegetable garden, a shade garden, and a perennial garden.

With his illness came clarity. A new dream for retirement.

2 bedroom, 2 bath, very small yard. In a 55+ community in Boise.

Tonight we took a huge step (a leap, really) in securing a future where the important things matter. Where bigger isn't better.

Our new home. And a bonus for my mom - a place for her to live until we're ready to head to Boise.

Day 683

Kickin' my behind is what the chemotherapy drugs are doing. Last time around they knocked me down and out and this time isn't any different.

Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday-Saturday I feel great (thanks, steroids!). I take the chemo stuff on Saturday, and wind up having a sucky Sunday and Monday. The pattern has already re-established itself.

Today I had my heart set on finishing the Disaster Auction quilt and even had the entire day to finish it. I'd work for a little while, then get too tired to do anything but sit in my recliner. And wouldn't you know it, every time I sat in my recliner today I fell asleep? Three, four, (or was it five?) different times. Sleep, back to quilting, sleep, back to quilting. Again and again and again.

I'm certain I'll be able to finish the quilt this week, but as for tonight a picture of a partly-finished quilt will have to do.