~Upon September's close~

It has been a beautiful Indian Summer day here in Kansas, the kind that I always enjoy being outside in.  Wish that could have been true today but unfortunately as I slept overnight the respiratory "crud" crept upon me and rendered me about totally useless for this good Sunday.  I had made plans to go to Oklahoma City with a friend of mine but thought much better of it when I  awoke about midnight last night with a fever and chills.  "Miller's Uncanny Luck" and "Murphy's Law", second cousins twice removed now, met up with one another while I was sleeping. By this morning's planned 5:30 a.m. departure, the OKC trip was a "no go".  I'm not sure what was worse~being sick or having to forego a trip to have fun.  But I am alive and semi-well as I type this blog post so for even the very least of things, I so do give thanks.  

Today has been the first day since forever that I didn't even venture outside the house and talk about boring, well that's about what I'd be calling it.  I slept and slept and then when I woke up, I slept some more.  Not since the days of "old lefty's" confinement have I caught as many zzzzzzs as I did today.  Oblio, my round-headed cat, was getting a little concerned I'm sure.  She's kind of accustomed to me being "upright" and not this sound asleep.  I would like to tell you that her worry was that something had happened to me but the REAL truth is, her food bowl was empty :)  Not to worry~she didn't starve to death and could probably go without sustenance for at LEAST of couple of days before collapsing.  

I have tried to be "good" today and just take it easy but I'm afraid that anyone who really knows me will attest to the fact that I don't do so well on that account.  But chances are good, many of you reading this have the same trouble I do with taking good care of yourself. Whether it be having a second or even third job, caring for the special needs of an elderly parent or other family member, or volunteering somewhere within your community, we all can find ourselves members of the "burning the candle at both ends" club.  More sooner than later, it all catches up to you and you find yourself waking up at midnight with a feeling that says "You know that trip to Oklahoma City that you think you're going on?  Well, you are not!"  

Usually, on any normal given day,  I gauge how successful I am and my own "self-worth"  by the things that I have accomplished, either at home or in my job.  Is my house clean and tidy?  Have I balanced my check book correctly?  Did I teach my students to the best of my ability~did they learn something from me?  How many folks did I help today, known to me or not?  Today I had to use a different rubric, one that showed me that there are different ways to assess just how the day has gone.

Today I have found myself in "forced rest" mode and as such a whole new awareness of this thing called life has come to me.   I have found out that it's perfectly ok to NOT make your bed upon rising each morning and that SOMETIMES being sound asleep in it at 10 in the morning is a perfectly good and even sane thing to do.  I have learned to appreciate a box of ultra soft kleenix and 5 Mucinex tablets in a box that I mistakenly thought was empty.  And the feel of the soft comforter that I bought at the Mennonite Relief Sale in April wrapped around my tired and worn out self  felt pretty dang good this afternoon.  All in all, I think I will live to tell the story.  

Being sick today has allowed me the chance to think about a lot of things, especially the brevity of time.  So on this, the very last day of September, I sit here in amazement at just how fast the year 2012 is flying by.  Much has happened to me already since the first day of January announced the arrival of the "new year".  "Old lefty" was released from confinement, I moved to Valley Center and back again, made a 4,000 mile trip alone to Maine, stayed out of trouble (for the most part), and a thousand other things all in the course of a brief 9 month span of time.  I have been blessed.

I love October and its arrival tomorrow heralds a 31-day period of time I have always enjoyed.  My sons, Ricky and Grahame, each celebrate their birthday then and the thought of them being another year older (Ricky on the 2nd and Grahame on the 6th) always causes me to pause and give thanks that they have made it yet another year in life.  The 26th marks my own  day to turn another year older, and as I countdown the last few days until I reach the appointed  age of 57, I give thanks as well for me, that I am here to enjoy life to its fullest.  And in my quest to no longer be known as "the mean old lady who lives at 304 and NEVER gives out Halloween candy to trick-or-treaters", October 31st will be my second annual "buy $50 worth of candy and give it out to total strangers when they ring my doorbell" kind of moment.  Long story~all I can say is I've changed.  5 years of boycotting "trick or treaters" came to a halt last year.  It didn't kill me.  I only thought it would.

I hope this day has been well for all of you  my dearest of friends and that you have done something good for yourself.  I guess it's true what they say, "time flies when you are sick" (surely someone says that) because it's now nigh onto 6 p.m. and the day will quickly come to a close.  Gonna head to bed early tonight and get a little more rest.  Come tomorrow there will be about 250 kids that will be looking for me and all the other folks down at Lincoln Elementary.  No greater blessing than to have a child call you "teacher".  

Have a good evening everyone out there and for crying out loud, take care of yourselves!  You are worth it~Today is Sunday, September 30, 2012 and even if I WAS sick and didn't get to go to OKC, it has been a great day to be alive in.  Good night all~

Some of the best "medicine" and greatest "perks" that a teacher could have.  My summer school kids from July of this year at McCandless Elementary~they help me stay young, forever :)

~about TVs, Let's Make a Deal, and life~

Long before the days of a bazillion cable TV channels and the latest in "flat screen" technology, families just like the one I grew up in made "do"  pretty dang well with only 3 channels to watch.   If you grew up in south central Kansas as I did, those channels were 3, 12 and 10.  Most folks I knew had only one TV, black and white of course, and the remote we had available to us  was...well, it WAS that you just got up off of your lazy behind and turned the little dial on the side of the screen. And if I had a dollar for every time I heard my folks yell, "Kids quit spinning that dial so fast.  You're gonna break it off!" then I would have a lot of dollars.  They were right, we did and it became the first time I ever was introduced to the use of pointy nose pliers as a substitute channel dial handle.  Add a little leftover tin foil (they call it aluminum foil these days) to your antenna and with any luck and all your fingers/ and or / toes crossed, you might accidentally get somewhat decent reception if the moon and the stars were just right.  But we made it and no one died because of the lack of technology.

We watched shows that were decent and certainly ones that MOST times you wouldn't be embarrassed to watch as a family.  Comedies like Petticoat Junction, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Green Acres; variety shows like The Ed Sullivan Show and The Smother's Brothers; and dramas like The Fugitive and The Waltons entertained families in weekly 30-minute time slots.  

One of our favourite shows to watch as a family actually was a game show, a popular one on channel 3 out of Wichita,  Let's Make a Deal.   From 1963-1976, the show's host, Monty Hall, made deals with people for some of the craziest things.  Sometimes he'd be looking for a woman who might be carrying a tube of toothpaste, a paper clip, a $5 bill or a kitchen utensil in her purse in order to make a deal with them.  He'd offer them a "crisp, new $100 bill" for it and then the deal making would begin.  They might keep their newly acquired "fortune" or trade it for what was behind those infamous "Doors 1, 2, or 3".  It was always a little disheartening to see someone who had worked their way up to a brand new 5-piece living room set, foolishly trade it off for what ever was behind door #3~only to learn that their ultimate gift was going to be EVERYTHING you  would need to get started on your brand new farm!  Picture in mind a milk cow, old mule and a hen setting on a nest of eggs.  I guess it's what made the show but I still can hear us all yelling at the TV screen (like THAT was gonna help) "CHOOSE DOOR #1!"  And when the show was over and the TV shut off for the night, you'd find yourself thinking, "Why didn't they keep what they had?"

I guess those folks had to rely on their gut instincts as they made decisions during that very short period of time.  I've had to do the same in the past few days in regards to the condition of "old lefty".  Nearly two weeks ago now, I returned to the "land of miracles" to visit Dr. Chan and have him evaluate a problem that has developed since my last surgery in December of 2011.  I would have a difficult time explaining in the best of medical terms what is needed.  But in "layman's" terms, a bone spur grew back in a place where it should not have.  Sooner or later it has to be excised but there is no guarantee that it will make anything better.  Dr. Chan, being the extremely fine surgeon that he is reminded me that day two weeks back that my wrist will never be normal again....no matter how much surgery happens.  I admire and respect him so much and I will never forget what he did for me to even get me a wrist that wouldn't be normal again.  I can remember when the original cast came off the first time and I looked down at an arm that appeared to have been run over by a truck or something.  With tears running down my face, I asked one of the nurses "Where is my wrist?" because honestly I didn't even recognize "old lefty" as an arm any more.  

This past weekend, for some reason, I began to think about whether or not I should have the surgery after all.  It weighed on my mind pretty heavy.  Do you know the feeling?   By the time I awoke on Monday morning of this week, something inside of me was saying "don't do it" and when I couldn't dismiss that feeling, then I knew what I needed to do.  For now, I have cancelled surgery for next week and will just continue on as I have since this all happened, now well over 15 months ago.

 I've decided to be grateful for what I have thus restored in "old lefty".  Appearance wise, well it will NEVER win a beauty contest but I'm thinking it probably wouldn't have any way LOL.  Strength wise, I'm coming back~very slow but very sure.  Pain wise, well it's uncomfortable at times but it doesn't hurt near as bad as the day I landed on the curb and had to scoop it up with my right arm cause it was going nowhere on its own.  All in all, I want to try to live with it as it is and just go from here.

The real clincher for me, and hey it doesn't surprise me in the least that God would send a "sign" to me at just the right moment because He always does, happened in the check out of the neighbourhood Dillon's on Monday evening.  I was there in the check out line when from the register one aisle over, I heard someone say to a guy that was paying for his things~"Hey, I see you got your arm taken care of.  Are you feeling a lot better now?"  I fully expected to see someone wearing a beautiful hot pink cast just like the one "old lefty" wore or at the very least a person wearing a sling.  But as I finished buying my stuff, I glanced back behind me and saw a sight that I sure wasn't expecting.  There was a man, probably my own age, coming around the corner being pushed in a wheel chair by someone.  When I looked to see what kind of cast he had on, to my surprise I saw there wasn't a need for one.  For that man, "taking care of his arm" meant that it was amputated and you know, I held "old lefty" a little bit closer to me, a little bit tighter to my heart.  And in the least of things, the VERY least of things, I gave thanks to God.  I am blessed and so may be all of you my dear friends.  

Have a great Thursday, September the 27th in the year 2012.  If you thought yesterday was a great day to be alive in, just WAIT for what's going to happen today!  It'll be even better.

From October of 2011~my dear little friend, Nadonna and fellow member of the "broken arm club".  I went shopping for warm gloves for us to use for the month ahead.  She wore one and I wore the other.  We made "lemonade" out of some very sour lemons and we laughed about it.  Both of us have given back our membership in that club.  We kind of like NOT wearing a cast.

~finding out about the "other" side of my life~

You know friends, really, I was just standing there this morning, minding my own business, on the beautiful grounds of McPherson's Lakeside Park when it happened to me.  I was there watching a group of athletes warming  up for their part in the Scottish Highland games when my friend, Mike, whispered to me, "Peggy, who is the guy waving at you, the guy wearing the kilt?"  As I looked up in surprise, there was indeed a handsome fellow in a bright tartan plaid kilt waving at me in a friendly way, as if we already knew each other.  Turns out, we do :)  Please meet my friend, Chris Mason~

I had travelled this morning to McPherson,  just 25 minutes north of my home here in Hutchinson in order to find out what this "Scottish Festival" thing was that I had heard of for many years now.  The journey was a part of my "Peggy's Quick 5 Things" to accomplish before my upcoming surgery sidelines me for a while.  Because my father's side of the family (surname Scott) has their ancestry from the country of Scotland, I thought it would be a good idea to see if I could learn something new today and make a connection to a country, a people and a way of life that I really hadn't known that much of.  Little did I know that I would find a dear friend like Chris there as a competitor.  

The north field of Lakeside Park was filled with men dressed in full Scottish garb who gave it their "all" in events like the caber toss (kind of, sort of like picking up a Westar Energy utility pole and heaving it for all it's worth),  the sheaf toss (something akin to spearing a bundle with a pitchfork and hurling it as far as you can), the stone and hammer throws (can't even imagine doing them~my behind would be very sore from every time I surely would have landed on it) and many more.  My good friend Chris, normally a mild-mannered and quiet young fellow who I first met when he was our school's counselor at Avenue A Elementary here in Hutchinson, was pretty dang impressive as he went through his part of the contest.  Standing on the sidelines and watching them all compete, hearing their grunts, groans, and heavy breathing just reiterated what I already knew without watching~These guys were strong and tough and when it came to what they were doing there today, they meant business!  I stood in awe of them, remembering how I almost "wimped" out on my bike ride yesterday when I had to go a few miles straight into a cold Kansas north headwind.  For these crazy guys (said in a loving way), it would have been a slice of the proverbial "piece of cake".  

The athletes getting the "what for" just prior to the starting of the games this morning.  It was an impressive bunch of men and one woman.

Holy cow!  I can't even imagine how much this stone weighed but the whole idea was to heave it as far as you could and actually manage not to fall on your face.  These are the kind of guys that you just never want to have to arm wrestle~Geesch, I think shaking hands with any of them might even be painful!

My good friend, Chris Mason, giving it "everything" here.  If I am ever trapped inside something that only a "strong man" can open, I'm just telling them to call Chris.  Not to worry :)

I took some time to wander the grounds and look at all the vendors and displays that were set up.    Seemed as though everywhere you went, folks with a thick Scottish accent were talking with one another over the table tops of displays lining both sides of the park walk way.  All kinds of exhibitors, displaying their wares from all across the U.S.  and the countries of Scotland and Ireland were there greeting visitors as they stopped to inspect each tent's offering.  It was one of the friendliest atmospheres I believe I've ever seen .    I made an interesting observation as I watched people go in and out of the tents~the vendors were there to sell their things, to be sure.  But even more than the desire to make a living, they were as much interested in promoting "good will" among all the people in attendance.  They wanted people to understand, whether they were Scottish or Irish or anything else, that they welcomed them into their worlds for a little bit today. And you know, I kind of liked that.

At one of the tents, I was visiting with the lady running it and explained to her that I had been born with the last name of "Scott".  Without hesitation she answered back to me, "Oh, well then you'd be of the Scott Clan then."  I looked at her a little funny, I'm sure.  I had never thought of being a member of a clan, heck I hardly knew anything about my Scottish ancestry.  She told me that I needed to walk to the end of the pathway where the "Scott" clan members were, that it was important to know where I came from.  "It's right down the way", she told me.  "You cannot miss it, just look for 'Scott'."  And sure enough, she was right.

Ok, this is the weird part about today.  When I woke up this morning, I had no clue that I would find out anything in McPherson that would make me feel different.  I was going to the Scottish Festival to have fun and see something new for a change. That was it.  Turns out I was wrong.  

As I stood there in front of my "own" name I began to realize what precious little I knew about my father's ancestors.  When I was child, I can remember Mom talking about the fact that the Scott family had come over from Scotland but that was all she knew.  I "blew off" that part of my heritage because nothing was known anyway and even though I had tried to find out things in the past, I always had "zero luck".  Now as I've become older and "marginally" wiser, I've learned that genealogy can be quite fun.  With the ever changing advances of technology, information about your family line is much more accessible.  After my experience today, I feel sure that it's time to start exploring where else I came from and that's just what I intend to do.

How about you all?  Any of you studying your family's "tree"?  Even if you are not, there are many things that you can do to make it easier for those who follow you and have the desire to document their heritage.  I'd say that one of the greatest helps you can provide is to continue to talk with your children about your life.  Get out that box of photos, you know the one that has hundreds of pictures but no information as to who they might be?  Sit down with your children and verify who the people in the photographs are.  Scan them into the computer~getting them organized is half the battle (well at least for me).  Hang on to records of marriages, births, deaths, service to country.  I know it sounds unusual, but I have an entire folder filled with photos of headstones of family members.  The information recorded therein is a way to verify what information others may have.  

Well, the day will soon be done.  It's been a great weekend, perhaps one of the best I've had for a long time.  Never thought that a visit to a Scottish festival would provide me with yet another "Bucket List" idea.  But it has~I have very little to go on in order to figure out my father's side of the family but at least I have a start. My quest is to begin tracing it back.  One thing I am positive of, my paternal ancestry is Scottish.  I surely DON'T think that somewhere, way back along the line, a family was sitting around the kitchen table trying to figure out what they'd call themselves, so they threw 5 letters together in a pot and drew them out one by one, spelling S C O T T.  My name came from somewhere and I think I will have fun and be proud as I find out~  Have a great evening friends~never forget from whence you came to be.

The greatest "Scott" that I ever knew~my father, John B. Scott, Jr.  He gave me the gift of his name.

And HIS father before him~John B. Scott, Sr.~the "ice man".

WHY IN THE WORLD AM I DOING THIS ANYWAYS?

You know the longer I have worked on this "bucket list" idea of mine, the more intrigued I have become about what one REALLY is.  The popular notion of a bucket list being a grouping of things you wish to do before you "kick the bucket", is the one I believe to be held by most people. But in the days, weeks, and months since my own list was devised, I have started to look at bucket lists in a somewhat different manner.  More on that in a bit.

I'm soon to be a 57-year old "very grownup" (my new term for "old") woman who has seen a lot of changes in life as the years have gone by.  Many hopes and dreams have been shattered by circumstances totally out of my control and yet many other blessings and gifts have come to me totally unexpected and most certainly undeserved.  I'm going to guess that you all have had similar experiences, right?  Whether it be serious illness of some sort, the loss of a job or financial worries, divorce or the death of a spouse or close family member, or even just the sad and uncertain state of affairs that you read about on the front page of the newspaper, life just sometimes sucks and there's no way to get around that realization.

I am not sure why this "drive", this "need" to accomplish certain things before I should die has taken the twists and turns that it has.  Certainly, 10 years ago I had no desire to learn how to swim, heck I wouldn't even get close to the water, let alone dare to put my head under it. A dear friend's insistence and persistence changed that for me.  The thought of me driving a 4,000 mile round trip to Maine "solo"?  If you would have told me in my 20's I'd be doing that some day in the future, I would have thought you were crazy.   AND I would have told you so!  Although I love riding motorcycles so very much, the experience of riding on the back of one "very, very fast and living to tell about it" never even entered into my thinking until a couple of years back.  And by the way, I may have been 56 years old at the time I did that motorcycle "ride" but I'm sure glad that my mom wasn't around to see it.  Can you "ground" an adult daughter?  If so, my mom would have taken care of my indiscretion to speeding along the highway barely holding onto to anything.  :)

The Hutch News obituary page is daily filled with notices of folks who have left this life and gone on to the next.  Many times, in sadness, I read of young people, babies and little pre-schoolers that have died. I have read notices of children the age of my own students who have passed away  and it makes me want to get to school and seek out certain kids and check to see how they are doing in life.  The ultimate realization for me is this~ More and more it seems that the average age of death is getting precariously close to my own age and if that's not a somber, "wake the heck up Peggy Miller" moment, then I'm not sure what is.

So friends, I guess I say to you what I know I have said before in this blog~My bucket list is NOT a death wish but rather a wish for "life" and to do what I can with it in whatever days remain to me on this earth.  I have been so blessed to have made it this long here on earth.  If there is a "guardian angel union" in Heaven, then I am sure that there has been much discussion as to whether or not to continue providing benefits to a certain girl named Peggy.  Thank goodness I have run out of bones to break on my body's left side and have no real plans to start working on the ones from the right.

In anticipation of surgery on "old lefty" once more on October 4th, I came up with a very short version of "Peggy's quick 5" things to do before then.  Having been without full use of my left arm for 8 months, I decided to think of some fun things I could do before being confined to an "exoskeleton" for another month or so.  My original bucket list still stands ready and waiting for the time when I am fully healed up and can do so.  Hoping there will be time to canoe down the Ark River again, power parachute once more, and learn how to sew something for the very first time.  But until then~"If today WERE my last day" I'd know what I'd want to do.

BEFORE OCTOBER 4TH~
1.  Ride my bike on a 35-mile bike ride on an early morning autumn day. (hey, I think that's TODAY)
2.  Go to the gun range again to practice target shooting and even try my hand at shooting a shotgun or rifle.  (I have the promise of doing that next weekend and I probably won't even shut my eyes this time.)
3.  To go to McPherson and see the Scottish festival for the first time in my life.  With a maiden name like "Scott" you'd think I'd have done that before but I haven't.  For crying out loud, Mac is just the next county up from here, such a LONG ways :) (heading there tomorrow with a friend)
4.  To finish up what I can in the backyard in order to make it "user friendly for an older person" (that's me)  I've been planting like crazy and I'm actually kind of shocked at how nice it already looks.  It's a work in progress, to be sure.
5.  To continue to connect with all of my facebook friends in some way, meet them and sit down with them to talk about life and how they are doing in it.  Hey, don't be surprised if I call you to say, "Meet me at Bogey's?"

5:24 in the a.m.  Time to get ready to leave for my ride.  Praying for a safe journey, no stupid dogs chasing me, and that "Miller's uncanny luck" and "Murphy's Law" don't collide today.  My wish for you all is that you enjoy a great day today in the company of friends and family.  Don't give up on this life and don't let the paper's headlines determine how your day is going to be.  I've done that before and I'm here to tell you, it doesn't work out so much.  So get up, get out and enjoy this wonderful day ahead~September 22, 2012, the very first day of autumn and TRULY a great to be alive in!

                                               It changed my life, but it didn't stop me :)

I learned the value of the "meager and lowly" 40 percent on the day that I could FINALLY take a photo showing that my last two fingers could bend down and touch the inside of my cast.

It was a "great day" when I was able to hang my own laundry out "one handed" last fall.  My dear friends, Craig and Dennis, were certain after seeing this photo that I truly was a short person.  Of course, I'm sure that they didn't take into account that I had to "throw" the pieces of laundry halfway over the line before I think of clothes pinning them on.   They may tease me about my challenge in height but they still care, I'm pretty sure.

Tonight I am lonesome for the sea~

It's been now nigh onto 5 months that I made my bucket list journey to Maine to see my very first lighthouse ever.  It was a trip that I'd planned on taking for many years now.  For some weird reason, 2012 seemed like a "now or never" moment and so I went.  Round trip it was a journey of a little more than 4,000 miles and I set out to do it alone.  I HAD to do it by myself~hard to explain, please just understand.

I left my home in Valley Center, Kansas in the early morning hours on Monday, May 26th and arrived back home to Sedgwick County that Friday about 8:30 in the evening, shortly after the sun went down.  In the time between leaving and coming back home again I made enough memories to last a good portion of my lifetime.  I travelled to states that I had only wondered about~Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, New York, Massachusettes, New Hampshire, Connecticut and Maine.  

It was a "quest" of mine, this THING that I just had to do before I died.  What I didn't count on was the chance to see so many other things that life would offer me along the way there and they too were most wonderful.  

I learned that the fine folks in Illinois had the very good sense to name one of their towns after my home state.  What was weird was the fact that at my loneliest point out that day in Illinois, I happened upon the sign.  And rather than crying, I burst out laughing and smiling knowing that even though I wasn't in Kansas any longer, some great citizens of "the land of Lincoln" ALWAYS were.

While visiting the beautiful town of Owego, New York I learned the "proper way" to describe where I was, the "New England" term village.  It took a few times of mistakenly calling it a "town" to realize that there everyone called their home a village.  Not sure if I understand that yet, but LOL I finally got the idea.  What wonderful people live there, what a "fairy-tale" like place for me to see.  I loved it so much that I'm going back next year just to spend some time there.  You can't beat their New England hospitality.

As I travelled home back towards Kansas, I went through the city of Kent, Ohio totally by accident.  While I was there I had to stop and see the site on the Kent State campus where the massacre of Kent State students happened now, well over 40 years ago.  It was a very moving moment for me to see the very spot where students and national guardsmen clashed, resulting in the deaths of four Kent State students.  The protests against the war in Vietnam seem like several lifetimes ago now.  But just for that day in late May in the year of 2012, I could almost imagine them being there again.  May we have learned something from that awful experience.  It didn't have to happen.

The area near the grassy knoll, where the national guardsmen came up before the shooting began.  A sight of bloodshed and heartache four decades ago, now a quiet place, a peaceful area where a lot of reflection has taken place over the years.  I'm glad that I saw it this way~

But the main focus of my journey, the main reason for going was to see my first lighthouse and I remember the feeling that I felt when I FINALLY, a little over 2,000 miles later arrived at Cape Elizabeth, Maine and caught my first glimpse of the Portland Head Lighthouse.  It was a feeling I cannot describe, certainly one you just have to be there to know and understand.  I wandered all over the grounds that afternoon, soaking in everything I could possible see.  Word soon got around, after my having stopped in the gift shop and writing a very "out of state" check for some things, that a woman from Kansas had driven all the way there just to see their lighthouse.  I had at least 3 people come up to me and ask if I was the one.  The folks of Cape Elizabeth are a proud people and they take great honour in caring for the lighthouse.  It was a privilege to actually and finally get there. What turned into a 4,000 mile journey was well worth it as is evidenced by the photo below.

Before I left to return back home towards Kansas, I took a small video of what the sea was like.  I didn't post it to Facebook or this blog, leastwise I don't think so but of course a lot of "sleep" has taken place since then LOL.  But tonight I am posting it for you to see as well.  I don't know why but Maine has been on my mind today and revisiting it in this blog post has been a nice thing for me this evening.  

I sit here tonight in my "forever" home of Kansas, south central Kansas to be exact.  I'm where the land is flat and you can see forever and truly that's no joke!  I like it that way, as a matter of fact, it's the way I prefer to live.  The summer time fields of golden Hard Red Winter wheat are the ONLY seas that I have ever known.  Meeting Maine for the first time, getting my first glimpse of the beautiful and blue sea were treasures that I had only known about from books that I'd read.  That day in late May this year I was blessed to see the "real thing" and I thank God for the gift.  If I never were to see it again,  at LEAST I once saw it.  Good night all!  Dream of some place special tonight, no matter where it might be.

Keep in mind, by the way, that I'm about as "amateur" as they come when it comes down to being a videographer.  I hope that this video loaded correctly so that you can open it to view!  Fingers crossed all!

Guess I won't be doing any roller skating AFTER all, dang it!

Today was the day to return to the "land of miracles" for "old lefty's" 100,000 mile check up.  I'd been having some issues with a pesky sensation of something "catching" inside and I was scheduled for the good Dr. Chan to take a "look see" and determine what he thought might be happening.  But before I did, I actually went to my first appointment of the day to the clinic here in Hutch to see Dr. Goin about some other annoying problems that are happening with both of my knees.  It ended up being a day to visit the guys who specialize in the care and upkeep of our skeletal systems.  I'm grateful to have two of them that I know and trust with everything.

Don't know about you guys out there who are reading this, but my body has been  telling me for some time now that it's definitely not a "spring chicken" any longer.  I have aches and pains from head to toe some days.  How about you, in the same proverbial "boat" as me?  Seems like ALL of my joints have now become home to the infamous "ARTHUR itis".  I realize, of course, that it comes with advancing age, heredity, and certain types of trauma (i.e. my bike accident).  Stairs have been killing me lately and after the planting spree in the backyard over the weekend, I knew I needed some help.  Hoping with all I can, that the two shots of cortisone I received this morning will at least provide some relief from the pain that sometimes occurs.  Certainly not wishing to be a candidate for a total knee replacement any time soon.  I figure with "old lefty's" current "stash" of hardware, I've got near enough in me that is artificial in nature.  I think I can wait for more to come much farther into the future, say 20 years from now.

As I was leaving the clinic, I had to stop and laugh and then take a photo of one of the official "greeters" at the reception / check in area.  When I looked at it, I said to myself..."Yep, I know JUST how you feel there!"  Been there, done that, and trying hard to NEVER do that again!

                                     Have you ever felt like this guy?

  Soon afterwards it was time to head over to Wichita to the Kansas Orthopaedic Center.  You know I used to keep track of how many times I had been there but after awhile you just don't remember any more.  I was glad that my LAST visit there had been in early May and that Dr. Chan, after looking at my x-rays, had decided to wait about doing anything further about "old lefty's" dilemma.  

It seemed familiar to walk in there again once more.  My very first visit had been August 8th of 2011 only 4 days after my notoriously "stupid" decision to jump a curb in front of my home while I was riding my bike.  My left arm had been described as a "train wreck" by someone taking care of me.  I have to agree with them~when I do things stupid, I really do them well :) The bones of my left arm, at least what was left of them, were being held in place by an interesting contraption called an "external fixator", done during emergency surgery here in Hutch.  It kind of looked like this~

Well after the first of what would be so very many x-rays to follow in this whole ordeal, Dr. Chan and his team came up with a plan to do what they could to get my "humpty dumpty" arm, about as together again as they could.  My second surgery was scheduled in the following two days with yet another that took place at Christmas time.  When I was finally dismissed from his care in early March of this year, it was hoped that no further surgeries would be needed.  As time has gone on though, that part of the recovery has changed a bit.

During the third surgery in December, a section of my ulna bone was removed in order that I could regain at least a little more movement in my wrist.  It was working just fine until a wild batch of renegade calcium decided to start depositing itself where it had no business being.  The result is something akin to a bone spur and that is what is wreaking havoc in my arm every time I turn it just the least bit wrong.  Surgery is in order and was scheduled today for early October.

You know, it wasn't what I wanted to have to do.  I've found over the course of the last 6 months that having two hands to use instead of one is actually pretty darned HANDy.  In my hurry to get things done in this life, I've sometimes even forgotten that there WAS a time that I only had use of one hand.  I say "shame" on myself for that~obviously I had forgotten my vow to  always remember what it had been like.  Now I am fixing to find out, to remember once again.

Although I am having this, what I REALLY hope to be the final surgery, in order to feel better and continue to regain what use I can of my left arm, I am also doing it for another reason.  Somewhere tonight there is a family who misses a loved one who died at the age of 45, an accidental death.  That loved one, in his death, donated his body's "long" bones in order that someone, somewhere along the line might benefit from their use.  I doubt he thought about them going to a crazy 55-year old schoolteacher from Kansas who was riding her bike like a 10-year old one day.  But part of it did.  From the day I learned that I had been given the bone material of a Missouri man, I vowed to do my best for him AND for me, in taking care of my arm.  If having one more surgery will make things better, then I would be very foolish to not take a chance.  That unknown man's gift is within me now....Eleanore lives and I get goosebumps and chills down my spine every time I remember it.  God bless him for what he did for me, a total stranger and undoubtedly so many others.

Well, it's the evening now and I've got more than a plenty to get done here.  Guess I'll be making a list of things that have got to be accomplished while I still have two good hands to do it.  Dr. Chan explained to me that I'd be in the surgical splint (fancy name for a very uncomfortable and bulky cast:)  for two weeks until stitches come out.  Then we will see where we go from there.  I'm not going to make a prediction because sure as shooting, I'll be way off.

Take care this evening everyone of you.  I'm a horrible person to even think of suggesting it, considering my track record, but please be careful in all that you do.  One thing I've learned is that getting in a hurry has been the cause for so many of the bad things that have happened to me in life.  Slow down, please all of you.  Really, it will wait :)  You know, right now, I'm ok with what will have to happen.  It will mean some adjustments once again but I still remember how to dress myself one-handed and just for the record, I'll be making peanut butter sandwiches ahead of time.   Long story, you'd have had to been there.  No wait, it was an ugly scene that night~try not to think about it.  LOL

I will get better, just you wait and see!  I am still  more determined to be completely healed from this than I would ever be afraid.  Good night friends and family....We will make it, I'm positive.

A pathetic sight-Last year, August 5th at the "scene of the crime".....just so you know friends, I have ridden not quite a 1,000 miles since I returned to riding in March and I have YET to be even remotely tempted to do any curb jumping.  Wow, what a way a for an old person to learn a lesson!

It is true what they say~a little bit of dirt never hurt anyone :)

I know it will probably sound weird coming from a person soon to be facing her 57th birthday "square in the eyes" but ok, so here goes~ yesterday was a great day to play in the dirt!  As a matter of fact, for the first time in FOREVER, I spent the entire afternoon outdoors doing just that.  I was pretty dang  tired and was covered from head to toe in some of the richest garden soil on the block but the "price" was worth it in regards to the amount of fun I had.  LeRoy Willis, my good friend, you'd have been proud of me~I refused to act like a grown up!

I've been working, little by little, on Item #8 of the Miller Bucket List, "to redo my backyard so that it will be more "user friendly" to an old person".  It's definitely one of those bucket list items that will take time, and actually a WHOLE lot of it.  This weekend's part of the project has been to plant perennials along the north fence of the yard and because our local Westlake Hardware Store ran a special on 5" chrysanthemums, I decided they would be the perennial that I would choose.  It took some doing but I finally managed to get all 21 of them into the ground in a little under 2 hours worth of time.  A little cedar mulch added around them to hold in the moisture and now all I have to do is wait and see what happens by next April or so.  For now, they look pretty~an amazing example of the Creator's colour palette.  Shown below~

You know a person has a lot of time to think as they play around in the dirt and yesterday I was no exception.  I thought about how my mom would be so surprised to see the way the backyard turned out since I came here and I think she probably would have approved of how I did things.  I remembered the time when she fell in the garden and her knee actually landed on some broken glass in the soil.  The cut she received was her "ticket" to the doctor's office for stitches that day.  She still had the scars to prove it in the years that later came and it wasn't long after that, that we kids insisted she carry her little portable phone with her outdoors.  Mom was stubborn but finally gave in because she knew she'd be in big trouble if she fell while in the backyard and no one would be there to find her.  Now my OWN children are asking me why I don't carry my cell phone with me outdoors in case the same thing should happen to me.  I keep telling them that I'm too irresponsible to carry my only phone around with me outdoors and it'd be just my "Miller's luck" to lose it in the garden area.  But actually the TRUTH is, I go outdoors to be away from that thing and the peace and quiet I receive at this point in time is worth the chance I might need to call for help.  That's the story, not changing it!

You know, I kind of felt a lot like her today.  My knees have their share of arthritis and I did enough moaning and groaning as I got up and down on the ground to last for a couple of lifetimes.  
I had taken her old yardstick outside in order to measure the distance between the mum plants and it startled me to realize that as I walked back in to the house, I used that stupid yardstick as if it were a walking stick, just like Mom used to!  It's a weird feeling to turn into your own mother!  Not even sure how that one happened....things like that just creep in on you I suppose.

With last weekend's planting of 125 tulip and jonquil bulbs, 3 dozen lilies and today's mums, I've made some great progress towards getting things in the ground.  Tomorrow it's the iris bed's turn to be moved to a new spot so I believe it is safe to say that a whole lot more moaning and groaning is in the works. But I'm pretty sure that unless the really weird happens, I won't die back there of being overworked.  It will just seem like it.  I'm working hard to get planted everything that needs to be in the next two weeks.  Monday of this coming week, I head to the doctor's office in Wichita to see if "old lefty" is going to need some more surgery.  If so, it will happen soon with the promise of another long-arm cast for 8 weeks and I can't even imagine what fun it would NOT be to have to plant stuff with only one hand.  :)  It's definitely a "making hay while the sun is shining" kind of moment but I'm sure I will get it done.  

In the days ahead, I will finish up plans for what needs to be done before the first hard freeze of the season arrives.  As winter sets in, I will delight in pouring over the pages of the seed catalogues that arrive each day.  I'll dream about what to plant and where to plant it.  The cold days of winter can be awfully long ones but they are made much more tolerable with an R. H. Shumway seed catalogue in your hands.  Perhaps you "gardeners" that are reading this feel much the same way. WINTER~we just get through it that way.

I remembered yesterday about a lady I met several years back as I was walking one Saturday afternoon.  She was in my neighbourhood and I had the chance to see her working in her backyard garden many times.  We always smiled, waved and said "hello" to one another but never more than than.  For some reason that Saturday afternoon, I decided to stop and introduce myself to her.  

Her name was Mary and I supposed her to be my own mom's age.  I told her how  much I admired the beauty of her back yard and the hard work that she had put into it.  She smiled at me as she invited me to come in through the gate and see the many different kinds of plants that she was growing.  There were beautiful tea roses, yellows~reds~whites.  The north side of the fence was lined with about a gazillion types of lilies, so many that it would soon be time to divide them up.  Shasta daisies were in colourful little clumps of white, here and there and so very many other plants that I have now forgotten.  It was a gardener's "paradise".

I remember her looking at me and all of a sudden the smile on her face disappeared only to be replaced by an extreme look of sadness.  It was then that Mary told me the real reason why her garden looked so beautiful and what she told me has stayed with me to this very day.  It seemed as though a couple of years before this "chance" meeting with her that Saturday, that Mary's only son, whom she named Robert, took his own life.  He had suffered greatly from depression and for what ever reason, had decided that it would be better for all concerned if he were gone.  Mary told me that it had happened in the winter time shortly after Christmas and that she was devastated and absolutely didn't know if she would be able to go on without him.  There were many times when she was not sure.

One day, in the weeks following, she came up with idea of "Robert's Garden" as a way to  work through the sadness of losing her son.  In the remaining weeks of winter that followed his death, she started "drawing out" the way she wanted her back yard to look.  Mary thought about flowers and plants whose very names would be meaningful in remembering the man who was once the tiny baby in her arms.  That's what the Peace Rose had been planted for and in the corner by the back, the beautiful "Live forever".  

I stayed way longer that day than I had ever intended to.  We gave each other a hug and said "good bye".  In the years that followed, she and her husband moved away and sadly "Robert's Garden" kind of went to pieces as well.  Mary's story, at least to me, is a credible testament to the fact that sometimes the greatest cure for things like depression and loneliness cannot be poured from a bottle or shared in conversation with a therapist. As for me, I believe that the  greatest and most lasting cure can be found in the earth of the backyard and underneath our "once clean" fingernails.  

Well, it's nigh onto 6:30 in the morning and as usual, I'm trading "daylight for dark" again.  Wait a minute, looking out the window here.  Oops it's STILL dark~well, ok time for a cup of coffee and THEN it's outside.  Have a great day ALL of you dear friends...It's Sunday, September 16th, 2012 and I'm positive, beyond the shadow of  doubt that we can know it's a great day to be alive in.

I

If you are looking for an interesting flower to add to your garden area next spring, I'd like to suggest one of my favourites to grow.  It is called "amaranthus", also known as "Love Lies Bleeding".  I plant it in my garden each year to remember those I have loved who have gone on before me.  The beautiful "dreadlocks" are a brilliant deep red colour and the plant's stalk seems to stand up to some pretty wicked Kansas south winds without breaking.  You might give it  a try and see if you like it too!  

~at least I learned a new word today~

The pile of t-shirts and sweatshirts on my bed this morning should have been a pretty good indication of the way things were going to turn out for the day.  This morning was the official "First Annual Senior Spelling Bee" at the Kansas State Fairgrounds and as a contestant I was hoping to find a combination of clothes that would be comfortable and what the heck, I'll admit it...EVEN bring me "good luck" to be wearing.  About six clothing changes later, well I did what I should have done in the beginning.  I grabbed my favorite "Haven High School Alumni" hoody that identifies me as a member of the graduating class of 1973 and a long sleeve t-shirt and out the door I went.

I live about a mile from the fairgrounds and I knew that it would be way easier to just walk there instead of trying to drive and find a parking spot.  We were blessed here in our part of the state to receive some much needed moisture last evening that carried on into the overnight hours and was still coming down this morning.  So I took off on foot, headed northbound, with the hopes that I could just dodge the raindrops long enough to make it to the fairgrounds.  And if not, well you know I don't mind getting rained on, especially during one of the driest years I can remember.  So when all was said and done, it was definitely a "bring on the rain moment".  

There's nothing like a nice cold Kansas northwest wind at, let's say 15-20 mph, to wake a person up, especially one that didn't sleep all that well the night before.   I hurried along the way, partially because it was about 40 degrees colder than the day before, partially because I didn't want to be late.  As it turns out, I didn't have to worry about the "being late" part.  The fairgrounds in the early morning hours are nearly deserted and today's inclement weather had pretty much cleared the pathway over to the 4H Encampment Building where the spelling bee was to occur.

Upon arrival, I headed over to where the crowd was gathered.  The check in table held all of our name tags and you had to stop over there to let them know you hadn't chickened out and actually showed up for the contest.  It was an interesting assortment of folks and since this contest was for those 50 years of age and older, well for once I felt like the "baby" of the group.  I was amazed to see folks well into their 70's checking in as contestants.  What was even MORE amazing was the name tag I saw right next to mine, which was soon to be picked up by an old friend from my days of teaching at good old "Yoder A&M".  Our photo is shown below~

Meet Don Etchison, a now retired teacher who spent nearly all of his teaching career as the 7th and 8th grade teacher and coach of ALL sports at Yoder Grade School.  I spent 20 years at Yoder, part of USD 312-Haven, as the 1st and 2nd grade teacher.  Don and I go "way back" and I can't remember the last time I was able to visit with him even though we only live about 20 miles from one another.  So to meet him on the fairgrounds at this particular event was totally unexpected.  To know that Don was one of the contestants was a little nerve-wracking because, well let's just be honest about this, Don has always been one heck of a speller.  We laughed about meeting in the "strangest" of places and I asked him to take it "easy" on me today and as a matter of courtesy, to at LEAST miss a word or two on the written exam.  :)


At the 9:00 a.m. "appointed" hour,  "the 25" made their way to one of the rooms in the Encampment Building to go through the first part of the spelling bee~the "written" exam.  The whole idea behind the written part of the test was to determine the top 15 of the group.  It would be those 15 people who would advance on to the stage to participate in the oral part.  As we sat around the tables waiting for the pronouncing of the words to begin, I had the chance to speak with a nice lady from Salina who had come, just like me, to participate in her first state fair spelling bee.  She had forgotten her glasses and realized it was too late to go back, so she had to rely upon her husband's "specs" as she called them to get her through the written part.  They were a cute couple~she was the contestant and he was her "cheerleader".  They've been retired now for many years and attending the fair was just something they always do. 

When the written part finally began, I began to commiserate with all of the students that I have taught in now, well over 35 years.  I shared their "test anxiety", felt their uncertainty.  As each of the 30 words were pronounced, I found myself concentrating on each letter, every sound that I thought I had heard.  I made sure my handwriting was legible because the judges made it "crystal clear" that if they couldn't read it, then it was wrong.  Geesch, where had I heard THAT before?  

Of the 30 words pronounced, there were 5 that I had never heard of before.  I could tell by the groans of those around me that I wasn't alone.  I began to wonder, where do they come up with these words?  How on earth did I get to be nearly 57 years old and never ONCE hear the word "tautology" uttered?  It was a humbling moment for THIS teacher, to realize that hey, I still have a lot to learn in this life.  As the last word was pronounced, I breathed a sigh of relief that at least this part was over and maybe, JUST maybe I would have done well enough to advance to the oral part on stage.  

While we waited in the auditorium for the first set of results, several of the spelling bee contestants took seats around where I was sitting with Don.  It was so interesting to hear of their stories, people from all over the state who enjoyed the art of spelling.  Many had been champions in their younger years, several remembering the "very" word that they went out on.  When I shared my story of missing the word "haphazardly" as an 8th grader in the Reno County Spelling Bee of 1969, they shook their head in acknowledgement.  The same things had indeed happened to many of them.  It was as if all of a sudden we were ALL members of the same "orthography club" and it kind of felt nice to meet these folks today, even if only for this short while.

When the results of the written test were ready and the names were being called out, I had hoped that I would at least be called to go on stage to spell.  As it turned out, my name was the third one to be called.  My experience with spelling bees has always lent me to believe that you really don't want to be one of the first 5 called to the stage and as the first round began I soon found out why that was to be the case today.

I knew I was doomed, that it was soon to be over when I heard the woman pronounce my word.  It was like "deja vu", like 1969 all over again.  What "haphazardly" was to me on that fateful day as an 8th grader, today's word would soon become.

"Your word is garrulous."

I cannot tell you how it feels to have a word pronounced to you that you have never, ever heard before in all of your life.  I'm sure that the judges must have sensed the look of shock and bewilderment on my face.  I asked for the word to be pronounced, used in a sentence and given a definition.  Trust me, NOTHING helped!  So what do you do when you're standing there in front of a microphone absolutely "drawing a blank" about how to spell a word?  Well, you do the only thing you can~you just start spelling and hope to goodness that you don't look too bad when it's all over.

I drew a couple of deep breaths and sighed~G-A-R-A-L-O-U-S were the letters that came out of my mouth and I added, just as my own personal signature, "But I know that's wrong."  The judges shook their head in agreement with me and I took my seat.  One by one, the rest of group fell, victims to even more difficult words than I had.  The contest was down to the last two when I had to leave to get back to school and so I haven't learned yet who finally was the winner.  But whoever it was, I applaud them for their spelling abilities.  What a great group of people to spend the morning with!

The day is done and evening is approaching so very soon.  It's been a good day and even though I didn't win I had a great time.  My record from 1969 STILL stands for me and perhaps somewhere on the earth there is a person wishing that they too could have been the 5th best speller of all time.  I learned a lot, that's for sure and one of the main things would be that I still have a lot to learn.  And yes, I just want to say one more thing~ I love it when kids are surprised to learn that their teachers don't know everything :)  It was my hope that by participating in this spelling bee that my students could see the value of lifelong learning.  I wanted them to know that the English language is filled with words that can be a lot of fun to know and understand and yes, to know that even in a world filled with "spell checks", the "art of spelling" is alive and well!

Have a great evening friends~hope that wherever you are, you are safe, well, and at peace with this life~

                                                         My "new" word and I~

For Mom, in Heaven~

Had she not already left us, now soon to be 5 years ago, tomorrow would have been my mom's 92nd birthday.  She was born on the 12th day of September~1920 and lived two weeks past arriving at her 87th year, before dying on the 25th of September, 2007.  Mom was just like most of the other folks living in the long-term care facility that she was in when her life ended~she had a great desire to "go home" and she wasn't talking about the house on 14th Street either.  

A few weeks prior to the last few days of her life on earth, we knew that her time was coming to an end very soon.  Sometimes your body just says, "Hey, I think I've had enough of this party now and if you don't mind, I think I will call it done."  I believe that is what happened to mom even though for quite a while we had kidded her about the possibility that she could live to be 106 years old, just like her mother before her.  Mom was extremely adamant that she wasn't planning on sticking around THAT long and true to her word, she didn't.  

I remember thinking in the days that came before what ended up being her very last birthday, what I could get her as a gift.  What in the world do you get someone who truly has her bags packed and ready to go?  After thinking for quite a while, I decided on something that I could bring to her to enjoy for a few days and then take home to my house.  I chose a nice purple mum plant, one that she could enjoy the color from while she sat in her recliner.  Mom loved it and told me I had done a good job picking out a healthy one.  Yet after a few days, she asked me to take it home and plant it in my back garden.  She said to me, "You'll enjoy it for me in the years to come, ok?"  Mom knew the time was at hand.

We were blessed to be able to be with her in the final hours of her life.  God bless the hospice workers who stepped in and realized that our final hours with her were going to be coming to a close very soon.  We were able to reach family members close enough to make it home in time to be with her and as the final hours drew to a close she was surrounded by children and grandchildren and a host of the Lord's angels, just waiting to take her back.  

One of the greatest privileges I believe that I have been afforded in this life of mine was to be sitting beside her bed in those last minutes.  In one of her last very lucid moments, she looked at me and said to me "Peggy Ann you are a good girl."  It was the last thing she said to me in this life.  I remember crawling up beside her in that bed and laying my head by her shoulder and holding her as tightly as I could.  And with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat that I can feel to this day, I told her that I loved her very much and that it was time to go.  All of us there told her that we would be ok after she was gone and she didn't need to worry about anything any more.  In the very early morning hours, she left and I wish I could say it was peaceful but Mom, bless her heart, decided to go out kicking and screaming.  I admire her spunk, her spirit even as her last breaths were taken.  

I think about her a lot these days, especially as I sit here in the house that she occupied for over 25 years.  There are times when I feel her spirit still lingering here and when I walk up the basement stairs with a load of laundry, it isn't MY footsteps that I hear but hers.  Even though I have changed much of the way the inside of my house looks, it is forever going to be known as "Grandma's house" and I want it to be so.  I am at peace here, in a way that is hard to describe.  It feels good, my friends.

Sometimes I wonder how my mom would feel about my bucket list ideas.  I'm thinking pretty sure that she wouldn't have been too thrilled about my learning how to handle pythons and I dang well know that I would have been in big trouble for going on the back of a motorcycle at WAY too fast a speed of travel.  (even I am sometimes amazed at THAT triple digit number)  She did know that I went power parachuting once but it was only after I had landed on the ground again that my son Grahame told her.  :)  Not quite positive that she would have approved of the learning how to shoot a gun idea but I KNOW without a doubt that she would have been so happy that I finally learned to swim a bit.

It's kind of funny, you know.  It doesn't seem to matter at all how old you are or the age of your mom.  We still try to do what we know they would have wanted us to.  When she died, I became a 52-year old orphan who STILL hadn't finished growing up yet.  There were so many questions I had yet to ask her, so much I wanted to get her advice on.  In her last hours, my siblings had to remind me to let her sleep (LOL) because I just kept talking to her.  It did little good for them to tell me that because I just kept right on talking.  :)

In the autumn of my 57th year, I sit here tonight thinking of her and really, giving thanks to God that I was born to her and my father.  Every year in October when my birthday would arrive, I always sent her some flowers with a card attached saying, "Thanks for not stopping with just 5 kids."  Without a doubt, I'm sure times were very tight for them but they loved children and LOTS of them and because of their love, I was born.  She gave me a very precious gift~my life.

If you are still blessed this evening to have a mom or a dad, please pick up the phone and call them, if only to say "hello".  I know without a doubt, that the greatest gift that a child can give their parent is the gift of their "presence".  No high dollar gift from the best online shopping site can even come close to the gift of your "time".  Do that for me, would you?  For me AND my mom.

Good night friends~I love you all.  

One of my favorite photos of mom as a little kid! This is her standing next to one heck of a watermelon!  She used to tell stories of having so many watermelons in the patch that the kids were allowed to just go out and bust one open, eat out the "heart" of it and leave the rest for the animals.  Guess that's why she never got upset with us kids for doing similar things.

Labor Day, 1979 in Haven~with two great women who were role models in my life.  My mom, Lois Scott and my paternal grandmother, Bessie Scott.  I miss them both, so very much.

From the "what doesn't scare you to death only makes you stronger" files~

Friends~just a word ahead of this blog post.  Originally this was published online last evening but somehow or another (I'm gonna blame operator error.), it was deleted accidentally.  Thus, I am reposting it once again.  If you had already read it before that "infamous" click of the delete key, my apologies for my lack of technological savvy.  I'd like to say I'll get better at it, but then that would be a lie.  LOL


Having a "senior moment" here friends.  I can't remember~Did I ever tell you guys the story about the first time I learned to butcher a chicken?  (For the squeamish, just skip on down to about paragraph #4, it'll get better for you.)  Ok, for those of you who stayed with me...   Learning the fine art of "chicken dressing" was a skill that I always hoped that I wouldn't have to have in this life.  I grew up on a farm where animals, chickens included, were "dressed out", butchered for the meat that they would provide our family of 9 people and I guess you could say that I was used to it happening.  I could accept it as long as I was not one of the "lucky children" called upon to help with it.  And you know, that system worked out pretty dang good for my entire childhood.  Our dad would give us the "heads up" as to when something like, oh say, the pig was going to be killed.  He gave us little kids plenty of time to get into the house, run to our bedrooms and plug our ears so we wouldn't hear it happening.  After that part was over, well then the rest didn't seem so bad after all.  It was a "win-win" situation for everyone, although I'm sure that the pig would have begged to differ on that opinion.

The years went by and I found myself married and the mom of a little 3-year old son named Ricky.  Because we had a place in the country, Ricky's dad and I decided to buy 200 baby chicks one spring with the sole intent and purpose of butchering most of them for their meat once they grew big enough to do so.  The weeks flew by and before we knew it, those fuzzy little chicks had grown into several nice roosters that were ready to be butchered.  Because I knew nothing of how to kill a chicken, I made a call to my mom and asked her to come over to help me.   Since my mom was what I considered a "pro" at chicken butchering, I just figured I'd give the honour to her and I'd stand by waiting for directions for the "after part".  Little did I know how that was not going to be the way it all worked out for me.

Butchering day came and by the time Mom arrived I had this funny feeling that she would follow a different plan than what I had in mind.  She took one look at the huge number of chickens to be taken care of and immediately said, "Peggy Ann, you are going to have to help me with the killing part.  I'll show you how to do it."  Friends, without going into the graphic and bloody details, can we just say that I learned how and did so very quickly!  Killing a chicken was NEVER at the top of the 10 things that I wanted to learn in life and it scared the living daylights out of me at first, but I made it.  Sadly, I don't think that in ALL of the history of chicken butchering in the whole wide world, did a person bawl like a baby once they killed one for the very first time,  but I did!  It got easier, but not by much.

I've faced a lot of things in this life of mine that were scary and certainly the Miller Bucket List has provided some "memorably frightening" moments in time.  Visiting the 5-foot deep area of the pool as I learned to swim for the very first time last year definitely was about as good as any example of "scary stuff".  I wouldn't have gone through that part at all had it not been for the truest friend I have in the world telling me that it would be ok and that I wouldn't drown.  Because I believe in him and his advice, I gave it a try and lo and behold it worked!  Making the 4,000 mile round trip to Maine in late May was an ordeal in and of itself.  I certainly had my share of self-doubt along the way as I ventured to the north eastern coast of the U.S.  Actually, I gave some pretty serious consideration to having one of the most giant panic attacks on record as I found myself making my way across 8 lanes of traffic right next to the sign that said "Boston-30 miles", but what good would that have done me?  What was I going to do, park the car in lane #4 and wait for the rush hour to be done?  I had no choice~it was a KEEP ON driving kind of moment and the truth is, I did make it.  And yesterday, well I decided it was time to face another fear that I have so I began to work on Miller Bucket List Item #5, "to learn how to shoot a gun".

My friends, I cannot tell you with 100 percent assurity that I can even explain why it is that I decided to add learning how to shoot a gun to my bucket list.  There are many reasons I guess, a variety of things that I considered as a I made this the #5 item.  I'm choosing not to go into all of it here, right now, but I promise to explain more to you later on.  For today, I guess I just have to say this....I was tired of being afraid of guns and friends, I have been fearful of them for most of my life.  I have never touched a gun, not even a fingertip on one in all of my now, nearly 57 years.  I have always equated guns with bad things and thus have steered far, far away from them.  Yesterday I decided that it was time to face my fears, and with the help of my life-long friend, Ron, I was able to do just that.

Well, believe it or not, it's me!  The photo was taken yesterday afternoon as I was pulling the trigger of a loaded weapon for the very first time.  I spent the better part of 3 hours at the gun range near our town learning my very first lessons in handling a firearm.  I went through around 200 rounds of ammunition and learned to shoot several types of handguns including a Smith and Wesson K22, an H and R Double 9 and an H and R modified blank pistol with a scope.  Shooting at a target 25 yards away, miraculously I was able sometimes to hit the target!  LOL...I wasn't sure that 55 hits on a target out of 200 was such a good thing to brag about.  But my friend Ron told me that he was pleasantly surprised as to how I did and that he was glad that he wasn't standing in front of the target.  Hey, I'm gonna take that as a compliment.  I made my fair share of mistakes, to be sure, and when mistakes involve loaded weapons, well that's a dangerous and deadly combination.  I have much, much to learn before I can even say that I know anything about shooting a gun.  But getting over that fear of pulling the trigger for the very first time was a wonderful place for me to start.  I actually ended up having great fun and could have easily stayed for longer than the 3 hours I was out there .

Reloading wasn't nearly as difficult or nerve wracking as I had suspected it would be.  As the afternoon rolled on, I was able to do all of the reloading for myself and it got easier each and every time.  "Old lefty" got quite a workout during the course of my time on the shooting range.  Those left-handed fingers went through some pretty strenuous physical therapy in that great out of doors setting.

In a few weeks, I'll be taking the 3-hour course offered at Gander Mountain Academy in Wichita.  I will be learning more about gun safety and shooting firearms.  Depending on how that all goes, I will plan to take an additional 3 to 6 hours with a private instructor in order to gain further knowledge.  Oh yeah, by the way...just in case you are wondering, I have no plans to get my concealed carry license, join the NRA or build up my own private arsenal here at home.  I just want to understand guns, get over my fear of them and learn how to be safe around them.

Well, it's been quite a weekend and quite a Monday.  Day's end is fast approaching.  I hope that everyone is doing well and before I say "good night", may I please encourage you to do something.  Choose one thing this week that you may be fearful of doing and start to ask yourself the question "Why is it that I'm so afraid?"  Are you perhaps afraid of going back to college after having stayed out for so long?  A lot of people are.  Do you fear talking to your boss about something that is bugging you on the job?  If you don't speak up, how will they even know?  Are you like me and perhaps a bazillion others and are not sure how to stretch your paycheck enough each month in order to get by?  You are not alone, not by a long shot!  What ever you do, don't give up EVER!  As the wonderful Red Green so aptly puts it, "Keep your stick on the ice.  We are all in this together!"  And my friends, now THAT is the truth!

Good night friends!  Have a peaceful night's rest and the sweetest of dreams with a wonderful week ahead of you.  Good night all!

~and the judge's verdict is~

Greetings everyone from Kansas on this fine Saturday evening, September 8th, 2012!  Seems as though I have Facebook friends from all over this great country of ours and I think of you all so often through out the course of each day.  I hope and pray that everything in this life is well for you, no matter where you may be this night.

Things have been kind of on the "noisy" side around this part of the state as today has been the first full day of the Kansas State Fair.  Our town has doubled in population with all of the visitors that have come to be a part of what is called the "Great Kansas Get Together".  Most folks who live around here are used to it, having gone through this many times before.  Everyone just pretty much adapts to things, anticipating the heavy traffic around the fair's location at 23rd and Poplar.  Even though most everyone is surely glad when the 10-day run of the fair is over, we still consider it an honour to play host to the rest of our friends and neighbours from throughout Kansas.  Can't imagine the Kansas State Fair being anywhere else but here in Hutchinson.

Today a great deal of the judging was completed on entries in the Fine Arts division of the fair.  Everything from antiques, quilts, clothing, knitting, painting and photography was judged in the early morning hours.  The 100-year old trophy that I had entered into the special category about fair memorabilia, at least 50 years old, was not a winner.  In fact, there were only 4 entries in that particular group and awards were given for the first 3 places.  When I took a look this morning at the display, it was easy to see why the trophy didn't have much of a chance.  The other three entries were huge displays, most of them having at least 20 items to show.  At first, I have to admit, seeing the trophy and the photos that I put with it "sans" a state fair ribbon of any kind was kind of like back in the "old days" when everyone chose teams at noon recess and this little skinny and awkward girl named Peggy was always chosen last.  But don't worry!  I got over it in about 2 minutes and was STILL glad that I had entered it.  By far, it was the oldest one there, with only one other entry containing memorabilia from the early 1920's.  Hey, at least I tried.  

As I left the fairgrounds and began the 1-mile walk back to my house, I thought a lot about that trophy.  Even though it was not chosen for an award, it still served the purpose that I had intended for it all along.  I wanted to share it with others so they could see something from the original fair.  Lots of people will see it now as they pass through the Oz building and perhaps someone will stop and talk to another about it.  Once the fair is over, I'll bring it back home again and once more it will find its place atop the mantle in my living room.  And unless someone offers me, oh I don't know, say $1,000,000 for it, I'm thinking it will be in my family's hands for another hundred years or so.

I entered that trophy in honour of 5 men who I never got to know~my grandfather, Andrew Brown and his 4 bachelor brothers~Ephraim, Elmer, Luther and William. Their love for raising Morgan horses earned that special award from the very first Kansas State Fair.  It is a privilege to be a direct descendant of the Brown Brothers and I know they would have been proud of the trophy's presence today, 100 years after it was presented to them.  I promised my grandmother that I would always take care of it and when I lay my head on my pillow in sleep soon, I will know that I kept my word and in this life, that has to mean something to me.  

Have a beautiful evening out there friends and family!  May peace be our journey in this life~Love you all.

Great-uncle Elmer Brown with one his Morgan horses~

Great-uncle Luther Brown training one of his horses~

Sitting next to the monument to the Brown Brothers' grandmother, Rebecca Burch at the tiny Quaker cemetery called Fairview just north of Halstead, Kansas.  Great-great Grandmother Burch was the last living pensioner of a Revolutionary War veteran.  It's a privilege, a great privilege, to honour and remember my family's heritage.  I know where I am going in this life because I remember where I have been and whose blood still runs through me.  When I die, this little spot on earth will be my final resting place as well.