TWO posts in one day? As Harmony put it, it's a slow news day.

Why is it when you remind someone of something they don't want to do, it's nagging, even if it's the first time you mentioned? I either have developed a(nother) major memory loss, or someone is just getting a little touchy. I'm being reminded of the 'many, many times' I have been told ______, when I honestly have never heard ______ before (and I have been married to this 'someone' for almost thirty years?!).

And I must be a little bit more nervous about this 'follow-up' ultrasound than I am willing to admit - or the planets are in the weirdest alignment in 52 years - because I am just hovering on the edge of major mind-trips almost all the time now. My daughter mentions veggies she is smuggling into her children's' food (my grandson hadn't caught on yet), and I have the taste of sweet potatoes in my mouth for the next hour. I rewatch an old episode of "The Office," and suddenly the commercials I saw with the show last time I watched it on television are blasting in my mind. I hear a old song (most of the time on the cable music station I keep on at home for the dogs while I'm out), and then it's replaying for about ten minutes in my DEAF ear.

I know it's something about memory triggers, and it would make it easier for several neurologists to send their kids to Harvard if I followed up on this, but I'm more than willing to just keep taking deep breaths to relax and let them pass by, which they always do, ... eventually.

And part of this may be that I am more and more determined to NOT mention my Monday appointment at the radiology department to anyone else (other than my daughter, who, of course, knows every detail of my life... including some she probably should not know). One individual in particular freaks out at the thought of a perfectly health greyhound at some time in the future passing away. If something, ANYthing, in my life gets any kind of negative prospect, I am not willing to live with that 'oh no what is/might/possibly might happen.' As I get older, I am more and more convinced that the secret of life is live in the present moment and enjoy it - the past is gone, and you can't change whatever has happened, and we have very limited control over the future (just don't give everything away and wander into the desert wearing only a loin cloth... Harmony, I know I never have to worry about YOU doing anything like this - if you did wander into the desert, it would be driving a fully-equipped SUV with AC, two DVD players, and two to three fully packed suitcases of clothing in the back).

Whew! I think you need some sleep, Hope - go to bed!

I agree with Harmony that cold rainy days are best spent at home with candles, a warm blanket and a good book (although the term 'cold' is very relative - anything below 85, in my case). I feel completely drained just from driving up to Benson and tuning two pianos, and the grey dark atmosphere outside doesn't help at all.

Plus I agreed to go help out at our little local cafe tonight. It's no big deal, it's not like I get paid (just a free slice of Pam's homemade pie for my husband while he waits for me and reads a book), but Pam did specifically ask, so...

But aren't conditions like this the reason hot chocolate and marshmallows were invented?

I am watching the movie "K-Pax," which I love... until it gets towards the end, and actually gets back into reality. Prot, the character played by Kevin Spacey, is just wonderful. I mean, he is actually a very confused human in a mental institution, who believes he is an alien from the planet K-Pax.

And, as an alien, he is this incredible compassionate being that you just end up loving. (And Jeff Bridges is very believable as the shrink who beings to believe that Prot is actually an alien)

I worked for a psychiatrist for almost two years, and got to know a few individuals who got locked away periodically into certain wards in Tucson hospitals. Some people need to escape from reality - and some days I can completely understand that.

Part of this relating to escape is the fact that I have to drive over an hour to tune a couple of pianos at a high school. I am grateful for the business, and normally I love long drives - it’s just that I have to be there BEFORE 7:30 a.m.

I’m not a morning person (family members could testify that I am not a human being until late afternoon), and I am still fighting the battle against Diet Coke. And I just KNOW I am going to succumb and get an extra-large Diet Coke... going and coming back home!

I guess there are worse things in the world - it’s not heroin or crack cocaine. I just keep thinking should be way beyond the temptation.

And all this began from watching the SciFi channel!

The television series "House" interests me because the main character (surprisingly, named Dr. House) is the antithesis of the typical fictional doctor. Instead of being patient (no pun intended), kind, and with a wonderfully nurturing bedside manner, House is crass, rude, completely self-centered and mean; however, he also is a brilliant diagnostician, so somehow he keeps his job season after season.

Another physician on the series is the caring, thoughtful and compassionate type, but it still takes me a while each show to get past him being from "Dead Poet Society" (the actor, not the character). In the show last night (if you are still with me), this Dr. Goodguy discovered that he had misdiagnosed a patient, and had to tell him that he did NOT have cancer (or some certain-to-be-dead-in-three-months disease). The patient, surprisingly, was FURIOUS - he had sold his house for a loss, had tickets to Venice (Italy, I'm certain, not California), and "was happy living in the present. Now (with the newer diagnosed of NOT dying) you've taken that away."

How much of our lives are spent not in the present, but mulling over the past, anticipating/dreading the future, and not enjoying right now right here this moment. And how many of us would change our lives if we knew we only had an X amount of time to live. Places we would travel, old friends we would look up, people we would forgive.

So the extrememly simple question is: why don't we go ahead and do all of that NOW?

I don't think I'd do a lot differently - but I would probably be braver about getting a saddle back on my horse and (finally) riding him. I'd get more of my life history written, and get through the rest of my old photos. And I would probably eat a WHOLE lot more of Preiumn Selection Mint Moose Tracks ice cream.

And a completely different subject altogether, but I saw a Clairol ad in a magazine yesterday, for covering gray hair, that said, "Q: I don't just hate the way I look when my grays are showing, I hate the way I feel! It really does a number on my ego! Help! Clairol A: It's all about control. .. if you feel you are in control of your grays, you'll feel better all around."

HELP!! How about being in control of your emotions, and your self-image!!??!! It is so incredibly JUVENILE (although I freely admit that I do this WAY too often myself) to let your outside environment / circumstances (i.e. gray hair, living in NJ, being 5'3") control your happiness. Yes, yes, I know, I do it too... and way too often for someone who supposedly knows better. And, of course, since I LIKE my gray hairs, and I never got prematurely gray like 85% of the rest of my family, it's easy for me to get on my soap-box.

I cannot give Colin a bad time anymore about going through Murray-withdrawal; I am going through Harmony-Blake-Colin-Kate withdrawal myself!

In a feeble effort to help me get through such suffering, I am fixing this evening the infamous "Three Cheese Chicken," (ignoring protests from my husband, who is not in love with this food item) which, according to my statistics, Harmony and I ate 89.45% of all evenings from July 2006 to June 2007 (the other 10.55% were Taco Bell).

And now I am panicking after taking a closer look at the ingredient listing of the frozen entree I lived on for almost a year -
"RIB MEAT COATING WITH SEASONINGS" means what; coating with seasoning of dust from the factory floor where the ribs fell?
"DEFATTED SOY FLOUR"-isn't soy supposed to be already non-fat?
"AUTOLYZED YEAST EXTRACT" - doesn't that sound like something in sa Nissan automobile assembly line?

And last but more definitely NOT least: "CHABLIS WINE" Heck, I have gotten away the past thirty-one years claiming to be an observant Latter-Day Saint - is this something I need to talk to my bishop about? Should I turn my temple recommend in? Is excommunication in the works already?!?!

My grandson is suffering Murray-withdrawal, and I need to be thankful that he is going through it in California, not here. However, I am missing the patter of tiny... excuse me, size 4 feet POUNDING from one end of my house to the other, either in pursuit of Murray or Murray in pursuit of any illumination from one of many flashlights here, along with Kate either following or tottering unsteadily in her own direction.

However, I think I spoke more with my daughter on the phone today that any single conversation we had while they were here - any conversation in my home was punctuated with "Colin, put that down" or "Kate, stop poking the dog" or "Whose turn is it to change a diaper" or "No, I've had enough turkey / pie mashed potatoes / stuffing and my stomach is going to explode any second."

It is nice to be able to sleep in my own bed, and have the cat back home. Pandora wasted no time re-establishing himself as head-honcho of the gang and securing his regular spots on my bed, the freezer, and under my feet while I am on the computer. He has completely forgiven me for taking him to the kennel - or perhaps he is just so happy to be sprung from the place this morning.

I never think of myself as a procrastinator, but I obviously AM. Today I have only been doing things that I really like doing, instead of the necessary cleaning for my soon-to-be house guests. And I really don't think I'm going to be able to stay up very late tonight.

But ONE thing that was pretty cool - after having a less-than-wonderful late breakfast with a rather grumpy individual (no, not my husband this time), stopping at the bank to get some cash to pay for a remarkable canine transformation (my dog got his first bath in about five years, and is now looking very sharp), and discovering due to a duplicate payment, I was MINUS some significant money in my main account, and having to scramble and borrow money from afore-mentioned-grumpy-individuals account (it is nice sometimes having your kid to be able to swipe some money from)....

... and THEN stopped by Target (they have the cleanest public restrooms), was very forcibly reminded that I could NOT do any shopping (aforementioned shortage of cash), but THEN finally did something VERY smart. It's my version of "Count Your Many Blessings." I am a writing sort of person - so I began to list the NEGATIVE things that had happened today (three) and then began listing the POSITIVE things that had happened today - and after about twenty-five, began to feel much better about my day.

However, on second thought, I am writing this blog-silliness to AVOID doing any more cleaning.... AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!

I may have created a monster today. I took my cat to the vet today - first time he has been outside of the house in about six years. He had quickly fought his way out of TWO boxes I created as possible carriers for him (this cat is not a wimp), so I wrapped him up in a towel and just carried him out.

Fortunately, once in the truck, he climbed up right next to the rear window, and besides making horrible moaning sounds and panting heavily in my ear, was pretty good the entire drive in (although I was completely on-edge, waiting for him to freak out and jump on the gas pedal or something).

At the vets, he was surrounded by dogs - which actually made him pretty comfortable, since he is the boss of two dogs at home. And the vet was wonderful, the cat was even calm as she was doing two injections.

However, now I have a cat who waits at the front door - who has discovered the outside world at last. I am fully expecting to wake up in the morning to find my truck and keys missing, and CNN to have live-coverage of a cat driving a pick-up on I-10, headed towards Texas (who knows why, Texas just always sounds like a place a cat would head towards; maybe because of cattle and beef).

Again, watch Headline News in the morning.

My dog began furiously barking this afternoon, and obviously had seen something he considered threatening/evil outside that was going to place all of us in mortal jeopardy - most likely a rabbit or the neighbor's dog who often wanders by. Since I greatly respect his opinion (he is good at pointing out illegals cutting through our back yard, although I may not agree with his view of killer-rabbits), I opened the front door and let him out to explore/meet the danger head-on.

And I don't know why I was so surprised to find a turtle outside our door. Well, to be perfectly honest, I was surprised because I thought it was simply a ROCK at first - with the head and legs all tucked neatly in, it did look just like the rest of the rocks around the base of our house. When the little turtle-head popped out, I did a little dance of surprise and glee, and considered seriously (for just a moment) trapping it and KEEPING it until my grandchildren get here in (what) four days.

I have decided to NOT paint anymore until after Thanksgiving, when I can take advantage of my daughter's expert opinion and great eye for color. Of course, I will have to make certain that she does approve of the color mistakes - excuse me, CHOICES that have already been afflicted upon my poor rooms (hint hint hint). However, since I have to rely on her and her husband's assistance to get my hay shed roof (finally) on, I guess I may need to tread softly.

No, the heck with it, I will STOMP and HAVE MY WAY. HA, NO MATTER WHAT! Bigfoot, watch out, here I come!

#1 - First, make certain you have read the entry right before this one.

#2 - No, really, go down and read it, or this won't make any sense (admittedly, this still may NOT may any sense, but I will feel relieved of any responsibility for that).

#3 - I can now die happy. The William Shatner musical version of Julius Cesear was the close of the movie - and it was done in RAP.

Really, you can take me now, Lord.

I am watching the movie "Free Enterprise" - William Shatner as William Shatner, with a group of Star Trek freaks. Again, one of those movies, like Shakespeare In Love, that is funnier the more you have watched the original Star Trek. Very bad Captain Kirk monologues by the lead guy (who, however, is very very cute - love long hair and glasses), constant quoting from "That Episode," and William Shatner's one dream is to create, produce, and star in a musical version of "Julius Cesar."

And I'm doing this to avoid painting a ceiling!

Today I spent way too much time somewhere else. Trying to convince my 'other' daughter that she canNOT have gastric bypass surgery until she actually tries a reasonable diet for a reasonable amount of time (i.e. more than 15 minutes). Then sitting with her through a doctor's appointment where he said the exact same thing I was saying. Then waiting for a haircut rather than drive 30 minutes to turn right around and drive back 15 minutes later. And although it was a great haircut (included a head massage - alright), I just wasn't ready to spend one hour getting one, then to rush home to let out two dogs who had been crossing their doggy legs for seven plus hours.

So here is my problem - someone, quick, give me a solution - is there any way to paint a ceiling without also painting your newly shorn (it is very, very short) hair?!

I am simply having way too much fun right now. I am painting walls very odd shades of green (nothing so far is turning out to look like the color swatches I got), trying not to get discouraged by the trail of paint cans, wet brushes and drop-clothes (which the cat has taken over tunneling through as his main recreation for now), as well as odd drops hitting the carpet, piano and my hair (good thing I’m getting it cut on Friday).

I am, however, getting frustrated with the newest member of our family. Greyhounds cannot be just let ‘loose’ - they have a habit of taking off in one direction and never returning. Our previous grey, Lady, got to the point where she could be trusted, even on her own, to come back. Dehlia, our new one, so far can’t even be trusted to get from the front porch into the house sometimes, and this is severely limiting any activity with Najale, my horse. I can’t walk them together for fear that Najale will trample Dehlia to death (boy, wouldn’t that be a fun thing to tell Bill) - Dehlia freaks out a little bit just when I take her with me to feed the horse(s) some carrots. She realizes they are big and somewhat scary, but she doesn’t quite know how to get out of their way.

So, my dear, concentrate on the things you ARE able to do, not the few select things you canNOT do. "Be content with such things as ye have" Hebrews 13:5 (and don’t be too impressed with me quoting scripture - I only remembered it because I read it a couple of days ago) (and it’s right after one of my FAVORITE scriptures - "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers" - I just get this little image of me in a straw hat and tap shoes doing a soft-shoe routine for some complete foreigner in middle-eastern garb, eating popcorn out of one of those huge movie pails and applauding - it just makes me smile).

Wait a minute, where was I? And does it really matter?! And no, I have taken any drugs... at least not today... that I know of....

Tomorrow I get my first ‘digital’ mammogram. I’m not nervous, just a little uneasy - my mom had breast cancer, and my best friend, Annette, has/had it (the cancer was removed, but she’s still undergoing radiation treatment). And if I come down (come up? go sideways?) with cancer, I don’t think I’d want to treat it (i.e. cure it, get rid of it, carve it out, etc.). It always seem so futile to undergo cancer treatment to get a few more years of life.
However, if I get the news, the basic human survival instinct will probably just kick in, and I’ll do whatever the doctor recommends. I don’t think I’m suicidal, but I’m not afraid of dying (if you are going straight to hell, why put it off any longer?!) (Joke there, friend).

Wow, how do I get from paint colors to cancer survival in the same blog?! I think you are rambling just a little too much tonight, my friend.

Say 'Good Night', Gracie!

I'm painting the front room of my house, and trying not to wince about the shades of green I selected. The first wall was horrible - too flat (the paint, as opposed to semi-gloss that I thought it was - yes, I know, walls are supposed to be flat) - but after I removed the blindingly-blue painters tape and put back up all my wall junk (chalkboard, bulletin board, coat hangers, etc), it wasn't too bad. I am keeping my fingers crossed about wall #2, but I am also stopping to let it settle in a bit more before I tackle any more.

I am certain a nap will make almost everything all better. Only I do have a new problem child at home - Dehlia, a three-year-old retired racer, who sleeps like the proverbial log except when I am trying to sleep. Then she paces back and forth, with her two I.D. tags clanging together like cymbals, comes up to my feet, sniffs at my toes, and the sighs as loudly as she can. She's sound asleep on her back right now, so I may try to sneak off without waking her.

Wish me luck.

Should there be a limit on certain things? Can you really take too many photographs of cute, smiling babies in the bathtub? Should we move for congressional limitations on bars of soap?

The things I do think should have a limit:
- Number of baby showers given for one person/baby
- Sneezes
- Amount of time taken for one person in testimony meetings
- Runs in a pair of nylons before you have to throw them out (I just keep wearing 'em with longer skirts)
- Number of candidates in a single presidential debate
- Asparagus


Things I think you simply cannot have enough of:
- Sticky kisses from children you love
- Chocolate
- Warm fluffy towels right from the dryer
- Cool breeze coming down from the mountains the instant the sun sets
- Reruns of "The Office"

I think I just had a spiritual vision.

I grew up with a lot of Catholic influence (my dad taught music in Catholic private schools, and my best friend in elementary school was Catholic), and all the faith-prompting tales about the Shroud of L-something, visions of deceased nuns in Mexico, Christ's image on an old tuna fish sandwich bun, etc. (sorry, this is sounding just a little bit more flippant than it should - well, actually, I do mean it to be slightly frivolous, I just am pretending to be concerned about offending someone... when I really don't care).

And today I (finally) received a connecting cord so I can download images from my digital camera (a wonderful gift from my daughter but one that I haven't used as much.... because I haven't had a cord so I can download anything) that have been clinging for about the last 18 months to whatever little digital chip hangs on to them....

Where was I? Oh, yeah, downloading. I just plugged in the cord this afternoon, and I swear, on the little monitor/view/lens on the camera, there appeared (GASH!) a photograph of JIM HALPERT. Honestly! It was just THERE. I think I fainted... but when I came back to consciousness a short while later, the image was STILL THERE.

Then I remembered that I had snapped a photo off the television the last episode I saw of "The Office" just for fun.

Oh, well. Things that happen to Mormons don't get canonized or put in the Deseret News or anything like that. Maybe you could just mention it around your local play group; let's see if we can get it posted on the Internet.... wait a minute, I just did that, didn't I? ;-)

This afternoon I was perfectly and completely content. I was driving back home in my comfortable truck - both windows down - listening to a new play list on my daughter's retired iPod - eating oriental chicken wraps from Applebees. Sounds almost like a beer commerical, doesn't it?

The greatest thing about partial memory loss is you can't remember what you should be worried about. It's a wonderful freedom. I really don't know if it's memory loss, or if I have finally reached the point where I just honest and truly don't care - but it's good. I don't have concerns about a job (although it has been an extremely long hiatus of piano tuning for me) or any nagging guilt about the house (besides one spare bedroom piled to the eaves with a whole lot of 'yes-this-is-worth-keeping-I-just-have-no-room-right-now'). It doesn't matter to me that I have a soon-to-be six-year old completely unbroken gelding - the unfinished shed is half-painted and has only part of a roof leaning atop of a hay-bale. Who cares?

But I'm nibbling away all day at labeling photographs - I've spent quality time with my one child within visiting distance - I've walked the dogs AND my horse twice today. My only duty left tonight before bed is to locate what is left of the field mouse my cat was proudly carrying, very much alive, around as a trophy this evening. I don't think the mouse was ever released, and I can't imagine my cat actually eating very much of him (sort of a Meow-Mix-kibble-eater - sort of a vegetarian feline, in fact). Does anyone know of a forensic rodent expect I could call on?

Each and every day, we as individuals on earth perch our own little set of fractured and stained lenses on our noses to begin the day. We all peer out, blinking through the streaming waterfall of tears, completely unaware of the major cracks, smears and distortions of the glasses, and throughout the day, frantically sorting out the images stumbling through to our brain to achieve some sense of stability. Whatever kaleidoscope splintered binge gets into our neural pathways becomes our reality.

And, of course, our burned and ingrained bits of gray matter scream "Of course this is the way! There is no other!" in shrill fright of any other course will cause us to 'die' in some improbable and most certainly very painful emotional way. It takes an incredibly sense of bravery to step out into that void, beyond your own world, to discover that 'their' path/stairs may be just as read and solid as your own. The anticipated pain dissolves as your feet stay on either your pathway, or you make the first tentative step over to the radically-alternated reality, seen 'their' way. But we all remain unalterably fixated on the truth of 'our' way, even as we make condensation for others.

So what is all this high-flaunting-psychobabble worth? For me, it can only serve as a humble reminder that even though I, of course, recognize the 'real' truth, and am the ONLY correct one ( ) to do so ( ), it does not change the other individuals' perception, their reality, their 'truth,' unless they actually put on your reality - your glasses, with their fractures, cracks and colorations.

Unless, of course, you realize there is very much at least one individual with 20/20 vision of what's going on right now, what we are supposed to learn from it, what we are to change in ourselves, how we are supposed to cope with it. And again, it is deliberately giving up OUR view, and accepting Heavenly Father's counsel and advice from his eternal view. Quite suddenly our view can go far beyond the individual petty disagreements, and the love our Father has for ALL of his stumbling, half-blind children comes into focus.

And that's the thing we are supposed to learn here, I think - that's the big lesson - to love each other regardless of what blithering idiots we all are to each other. And you know that I am right!!!....... right? ;-)

This morning, my life flashed before my eyes. Well, it wasn't actually my eyes, it was the greyhound, who streaked past me through the open front door, and took off for whatever greyhound haven she was certain was right down the road.

I had gotten very spoiled with our previous grey, who would go out and 'play' greyhound a couple of times a day, run at a 45 degree angle to the ground as she careened sharply around the house once or twice, come back in, and sleep the rest of the day. And my own dog can wander off for hours, and always returns happy, smiling and tired (and yes, he is neutered, so it's not that type of smile, you dirty-minded reader you)..

Thankfully on this occasion, Dehlia only ran about thirty yards and then turned around and came right back. Whew!

I am getting that all-too-familiar tightness in my throat today. I'm helping to M.C. a church talent show tonight, have a piano to tune tomorrow as well as a dental appointment. Which is nothing compared to when I also was working full-time.

However, I am feeling just a tad guilty - I mean, I'm home full-time, animals instead of kids, with albeit slow Internet access and lots of projects which I am happily completing for the first time in seven years. And several people have offered me jobs - I just don't want to. Money is embarrassingly tight, considering the amount of money my husband brings in - credit card debt, county and state taxes doubled in one year, a kid in college and one kid who still needs financial assistance every month despite being on just about every state low-income program there is (and there are a lot here, thank goodness).

I've asked repeatedly for some financial advice from my bishop, who feels that this should be discussed with both of us - and if we can solve the communication problems, we can work this out together. HA! I think hell will freeze over first. I can understand some of my spouse's attitude - he is terrified he is going to be 'found out' and lose his job (incredibly low-self esteem - I mean, negative numbers in three digits), never will plan a budget, and simply blows up when the subject is introduced... therefore, he then doesn't to deal with, and I'm left holding the (symbolically) empty wallet and the not-paid bills.

Thanks - this is just an open-air journal, but it does help to write it down. Clears my mind... which actually is a pretty scary thought, because it's not carrying that much in it anyway!

I just heard the gayest thing I've heard for a while on a 70's Hits cable station - "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow"... sung by a guy. Now it's back to normal ("Feel Like Makin' Love" by Bad Company) - but that's a question women ask, not men.

Weird.

And my daughter seems to be trapped in a 50's sitcom tonight; I'm a little bit worried about her. However, since her son is showing that her photographic genius is obviously being passed on, I will set that aside for the moment.

May I only add that each generation ('cept maybe Adam and Eve) looks back with fond remembrance of the 'old' days, which life was simpler, easier, and made more sense. When you are living through it, however, it's not a pretty site at times. So I will continue to stress the adage - "Just think, in six months, this will all be just a funny story to tell."

I must mention how much I enjoyed an antique, discarded trinket of years (months?) long past - 'someone's' old iPod shuffle. Radio station reception is less than perfect this far south (unless you like Mexican rock and very bad sombero music), and I absolutely savoured the half-hour drive into town this afternoon, listening to Randy Newman, Five for Fighting and Smashmouth. Even better was the fact that at least 75% of the songs I was playing I never would have HEARD unless I had been in California for that year. Hurrah for MP3 downloads, and my introduction to the iPod!

Okay, I am really confused right now. I have a self-acknowledged 'emotionally-crippled' family member, who has difficulty with any emotion other than anger (is very comfortable with anger, rage, aggression, etc.). Has a very honest fear of being hurt, of losing control (hmm, maybe I have more than one of those, now that I come to think of it) of situations. Will not let themselves love beyond certain limits.

This same individual (the first one afore-mentioned, we'll just let the other control-personality go for a minute) did allow a certain degree of emotional involvement with a pet, and was crushed when she died, approximately two years ago. Now we have another pet, and the same attachment is rapidly developing.

Okay, back to control-personality #2, who pointed out the absurdity of allowing such feelings to develop with an animal instead of blood-relatives-family-members (i.e. HUMAN) relationships. I can recognize that the 'safety' of such a involvement, especially with a canine (remind me some time to give you the outline of my talk on Murray's Christ-like attributes) who can be so incredibly forgiving.

Today? I think I am happy that this individual (back to #1 in this short series of lectures) was NOT emotionally-available at the time that my children, at least, were growing up.

Because this 'newer' canine has been walked an incredible amount of times, and a ridiculous distance (at least in my limited view of what is acceptable as a Sunday afternoon stroll) because (are you ready) she has NOT had a bowel movement... TODAY. Not for the last three days, not showing any pain or discomfort, not acting any different... but has not (as of 22:13 tonight) as of now.

Can you imagine this type of behaviour with three children, all within four years of each other?! I think it might have driven me even MORE crazy that the emotional indifference.

Well, it was nice while it lasted, but it ended at 7:20 p.m. tonight. I wish I knew what switch suddenly got turned off, and it would be wonderful if I could just reach over and click it back on. A good night's sleep may make some difference, but I doubt it. So it was, what, six days? A nice six days - could have been a lot less.

I did feel like an abusive parent this evening. I have been separating the horses at feeding time because the mare will stand aside and let the colt eat most of her share (why I still call that soon-to-be six year old spoiled gelding a colt is beyond me). The colt (who cares, it's kinda like your youngest is your baby no matter how long they get) gets put in the corral, and the mare left in the pasture... where she has access to water.

And Friday night is becoming an pattern - Bill and I go to our little food joint in our small rural community, and I bus tables and help the cook out during the dinner 'rush.' It's fun, we joke around, and Bill gets a free piece of pie.

However, tonight, I FORGOT about the colt. It wasn't days, he wasn't dying of thirst, but I sure as heck felt like a horrible mother. Sort of like finding out your baby has been in a messy diaper for six hours (although I don't think I'm going to go out and put Desitin on my horse's butt).

And somebody just wandered out of their room (yes, in their garments, and to get something to eat), and sort of put it all together: "I can't leave the terrorist stuff alone; I feel like I am losing the edge that keeps me good at my job." He's been off work all week, even let his assistant handle a last-minute (albeit important) meeting - I think he is suddenly feeling very insecure that his office HAS survived a week withOUT him.

Hmmmm.

Have I ever told you how proud I am of one specific child I have? She went literally across country to college by herself (well, actually, she and I drove cross-country, but then she was all on her own) and graduated with an A.S. in a year and a half. She married well (finally took my advice after a few years about whom she should wed), has been an incredibly supportive military spouse during six-month deployments and the normal crazy military moves and household changes, is raising two incredibly wonderful kids (the fact that they are my grandchildren isn't coloring my vision at all, right?), has had held various church leadership positions and had proved herself capable to doing LOTS more than she thought she was capable of.

Moreover, now that she has a VERY good camera, she may soon prove herself to be an outstanding professional photographer.

Hope her head doesn't get too swelled by reading this, but I just wanted to let her know what a wonderful person I think she is (and no, I am not expecting any discount on my future counseling session, honest).