Oops, Maybe I Shouldn't Have Posted That

I have several blog friends who have recently written blog posts that they later decided they shouldn't have posted. They all deleted those posts and let readers know why in an e-mail or in a subsequent post. Their reasons for deleting the posts varied from deciding the subject matter of the post was not appropriate or not understood as written, that the post had too much information about themselves or a family member or reader comments made them decide the post  should be deleted.

One of the things I like about blogging is the variety of styles and topics people bring to their blogs. Whether a blogger posts beautiful photos that illustrate activities in their lives, expresses opinions on anything from politics to child rearing, gives us a running commentary on the activities of their day or just shares on a mish mash of topics there is usually, by chance or design, a style and parameter that is characteristic of the writer's posts. I didn't find any of the deleted posts objectionable, but I respect and appreciate the consideration each of these bloggers gave to a post that with some reflection seemed "out of bounds" for them.

My blog is generally fairly innocuous and non-controversial. Even so, a couple of years ago I deleted a post because of a comment that was left. I had told a story, basically a joke, that the commenter felt made fun of a person with dementia. I didn't see it that way but I deleted the post in favor of not offending someone on a sensitive topic.

Have you ever had second thoughts about a post you have written or deleted one due to your own or readers reactions after it was posted?

It's That Time of Year, Crazy Weather, Candy Corn and a Birthday

Here in Colorado, fall is beautiful and unpredictable. A sunny warm day can turn into overnight snow that stays around just long enough to mess with rush hour traffic in the morning and then melts before noon. I love this picture from a day late last week. Winter will settle in before long, but until then it is fun to experience at least a couple of seasons most days.

Borrowed from a friends FB page

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Fall brings with it another important time of year.....Candy Corn Season. 

Yes, I have a weakness for this ubiquitous Halloween treat. I have no trouble resisting the same candy in red and green at Christmas or in pastel colors at Easter, but I have to admit to eating more than my share of the 9 billion pieces made annually in orange, yellow and white for the Halloween season. Candy corn was invented in the late 1880's and was originally called "chicken feed". Maybe if they had stuck with that name I'd be more able to resist the 140 empty calories that come with eating 22 pieces.

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My oldest grandchild, Jared, becomes a teenager this week, leaving me asking the age-old question, where did the time go. It truly does seem like only a few years since he was born.

Jared

He has told his parents that he wants a goat for his birthday (which he has been told that he will not get). He seems to think because they have a horse that lives in the barn at his other grandparents house that they would not mind having a goat also. I'm pretty sure he knows that this is a pie-in-the-sky wish. I thought I was getting off lucky when he told me he wanted socks. It turns out that the socks he wants are a certain kind of Nike socks that cost about $15 a pair....and of course he wants certain colors. At least he didn't ask me for livestock.

I guess I'd better be off to do a little internet sock shopping, but I may need a little candy corn first to fortify myself.

The Bath-In Remembrance of my Friend

I've told this story before and I am telling it again today in remembrance of my best friend who died from breast cancer and to share my regard for everyone who has been touched by this disease. 

My best friend died from breast cancer about 11 years ago. We had been best friends for over 40 years when she died. As always, during her illness we talked a lot and got together from time to time even though we lived about 700 miles apart. There is one conversation I still remember nearly every day....every time I take a bath.

When she was ill, one of the things that helped ease her pain was taking a hot bath. The day of the conversation that I remember had been a rough day for her. While her mom, who was helping to care for her, was gone to run some errands she got into the bathtub hoping to get a little relief from her pain. She called me from the bathtub, saying she was home alone and too weak to get our of the tub on her own and that this was the first time that had happened to her. There was, of course, nothing I could do to help her out of the bath tub from 700 miles away, so we talked. We talked about her illness and her fears, we talked about her kids and mine, we talked about all the things we normally talked about. Even talking for a long period was difficult for her at that stage of her illness, so we also shared moments of silence from 700 miles away.

Even after all the years I still think of our conversation, one of the last I had with her, every time I take a bath. It makes me feel a lot of things, but the greatest thing I feel about it is gratitude. I am grateful that I can still get out of the bathtub with ease, I am grateful for the friendship we had, I am grateful that we got to have one last conversation about all the things we had talked about for years, I am grateful that I am the one she reached out to in what was a frightening first in the course of her illness, and I am grateful for the comfort we both felt with each other in the moments of silence.

Please use the reminders of Breast Cancer Awareness Month 

to do everything possible to assure your own breast health.

But Things Are Better Now....

In a bit of paraphrase to the old John Denver song, some weeks are diamonds, some weeks are stone. This last week has been a bit of a stone around here, but things are better now.

Last Wednesday Doc was sent from a doctor's appointment home to pack and to go straight to the hospital with some heart issues. He came home late Monday and is doing better with a few, hopefully mostly temporary, adjustments to his lifestyle. We will know more after a follow-up appointment in a couple of days. 

Please forgive the picture above, but if I had tried to take an actual picture of Doc in his hospital bed, well, I'll just say his reaction wouldn't have made for a very pretty picture.

I am not making light of what was a very serious situation, but finding the lighter side of any situation is a good coping tool for me.

When "Mr. Independent" came home to pack for the hospital he fully intended to hop back in his truck and drive himself to the hospital. I, of course, informed him that I would be driving him to the hospital. As we were getting in the car to go he asked if I was going to take Dodger, our dog, with us, apparently thinking I was going to do a quick drive-by dropping him off at the door of the hospital.  Men! Sheesh!

Needless to say, I spent a good deal of time at the hospital with him while he was there, with him constantly telling me that I needed to go home to check on Dodger. Of course, he was not at the hospital that is about 5 minutes from our house, but one that was 30-40 minutes away depending on traffic.  This was the first time Doc has had to be in a hospital since he was born and it was a real lesson to "Mr. Independent" in letting go of a bit of that independence. The bottom line is that he got excellent care and the doctors, nurses and aids are truly angels, even when a patient gets a little cantankerous.

His homecoming has gone pretty well with just a little bristling at his limitations. If I make it through the next few days until they say it is okay for him to drive, I'll be back with an update.