Siblings

October 1, 2012  Monday

Robert and Laura Meredith had six children.  Their daughter, Dorthy was my Grandmother. I called her Grandma James.  I remember Great Grandmother Laura Meredith as a beautiful yet frail lady in her eighties when I was in junior high.  I knew her as a relative that stayed with my Grandma for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and then in the nursing home in Farmer City, Illinois. 

I did not know to ask—but what was it like having six children? Were they all birthed at home?  And it seems like there was one more who died as a young man.  I will check with my Mother, but Great Grandmother Laura may have birthed seven.

Now the last of them are gone on to heaven home.  Great Uncle Lester died recently.  He was in his nineties.  Like his other sister, Great Aunt Lou, dementia robbed them of a good end.   I have memories of Uncle Lester and his wife traveling with a trailer in their retirement parked at the farm, and visiting us once in El Paso in 1980?  Aunt Lou and her husband lived part of their retirement at the corner house on the farm, so we got to visit that vivacious lady when we visited Grandpa and Grandma James’ farm.

It is hard for our granddaughter to wrap her mind around her own parents having siblings, let alone her grannie having siblings.  And maybe, when she is a grannie, the last of my generation will be dying out.  And she will wonder what it was like for me to have a younger sister, and two younger brothers.  

Next weekend, the descendants of Robert Laura Meredith gather to remember and learn.  And their great-great-great grandson, David Mace Williamson turns two years old.  And their great-great-great granddaughter finished her second week of kindergarten.  And their great-great-great grandsons in Missouri will soon be moving to Louisiana.  I wonder how many great-great-greats they have?  I can think of at least a dozen.

My Grandpa James still has a little sister alive---the last of his side.  Grandpa Wilbur James had three sisters.  Cousins still live near the original farms. 

Eleven Years Ago

Eleven years ago, I was sitting here just like this, poking around on the computer.  I had walked home from the auto repair shop where I had dropped off the van for repairs after dropping our middle son off at high school.  Bob took our youngest to his private school in Fort Worth, where he was taking special classes for dyslexia.

As I watched events unfold, and heard radio reports, I was able to find tiny postage stamp size coverage online, and walked into our backyard to tell Bob's brother, studying in our little house, that a tower had fallen.  He dropped me off at the repair shop and then headed to his in-laws house as he wanted to see coverage on a tv.  We did not have a tv at the time, trying to focus on the boys reading skills, and trying to control the garbage on tv to impressionable young minds.

Our firstborn was a sophomore in college...band member in one of the most patriotic colleges, in the ROTC program.  I was not worried about him.  But, knowing we were now at war, it would not be long before his upper classmen were sent to meet this enemy of radical islam over there.  I was so thankful our new president had a military background and respected the advice of his military admirals and generals. 

Remember how quiet the skies were that next week?  Remember the stories that came out of the events---stories of heros and selfless bravery.  I could not get enough.  Even last year, on the Tenth Anniversary, I learned so much from the stories.  These stories should be taught in our schools, but sadly, the schools have been hyjacked by teachers unions, liberal professors and teaching to look good on tests rather than history.  And since we are not learning from history, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes. 

Eleven years later: I am a grannie of four beautiful, healthy grandchildren.  Two of my sons are captains! They have both done funeral duty.  One more than the other.  We are empty nesters.  I can no longer make 4 mile long hikes on a beautiful September morning.  Sometimes my hip gives out. I move slower.  I need larger font. 

I am concerned that people are allowed to come live here without proper screening.  We should only allow people to live here that embrace our God given freedom. rights. justice. the desire to live respecting the religion of others. Our borders should be secure.

I am concerned that our leaders are afraid to declare a purpose, a mission in Iraq, and Afghanistan.  Did we learn nothing from Vietnam?  There should be consequences for killing our soldiers---especially, the soldiers trying to train them to govern themselves.   Eleven years out, we have all lost friends and relatives over there.  My husband has a cousin buried at Arlington in Virginia.   But, the media does not mention the fallen unless you live in their city. Where is the monument to the now over 6,000?  Are their stories, their acts of heroism being taught at school? 

Scott Baker on the Blazecast posed the question: why no outrage to the story on disrespect shown the flag at a university.

It was a super big flag.
Supposidly for dimocrats---some of us do not expect them to show respect.

But, here on the Eleventh Anniversary from September 11th, 2001, have we been teaching patriotism to our children in schools?  Are we outraged when children are not taught the pledge let alone given the opportunity to say it each day?

The flag is a symbol. It is dear to some of us.  Madison Rising, a conservative rock band of which a member is a vet, is promoting a new version of the Star Spangled Banner.  To meet the criticism that no one has the SSB on their ipod, Madison Rising has a version that will get your blood pumping.  Elderly folks may find it offensive.  But, if it gives our national anthem new life, so be it.

In eleven years of watching the radical islam animals enjoy burning our flag too much---even constructing crude copies just to burn them, it is as if we are picking our battles and choosing not to play their game.  If they want to go ape shit over our flag, we can't stop them...short of turning them to glass.  We are too nice.  We instead desire to be a beacon.  A place of refuge.  If you come here, you will find freedom, and fairness and justice....unless you are the fetus in a black teenager. 

Both of my sons have presided over funerals where their job, their duty and privilege was to hand the widow a folded up flag.  It is up to their generation to decide. I defer to them.  Only on military installations do you stand to honor our flag and all it stands for---before a movie.  Only on military installations have I heard the daily honor given the flag raising, lowering, and salute to all fifty states. 

It is if there is nothing sacred anymore.  People are told to remove their signage at campsites because it is political and hence "offensive?"  Soon, flying the flag may be deemed offensive to half our country.  And that is sad.

If I personally witnessed someone on my street, in my city disrespecting the flag, I will try to gently teach.  But, best to give the Gospel of Jesus Christ and be concerned about the soul of the one disrespecting that flag--for only then, when the soul is right with God, will they then be given the desire, as I was, to honor and revere our God given rights, and learn that under God there is a worthy and unworthy manner of doing everything. 

a month later

August 7, 2012, Tuesday

Internet is down. Probably the heat is to blame, but I am just too lazy to drive down to the corner and see if a truck is messing with it.  And it has been a month since a blog post.  So, I figure I could get one ready and then copy and paste. 

July was an exciting month. July 2^nd, Abby turned 2,000 days old.  I turned 56 years old on the 3^rd. Baby Matthew turned 111 days on July 11^th after a very silly, boring “all-star” game.  Abby, Lauren, and Baby David flew down July 13^th.  Actually, their luggage and Emma cat made it on time, because they were kicked off the plane in Seattle when Lauren used the word, “fever”.  By the time parametics checked David out, the Tylenol kicked in, he was feeling better, and the plane had left.  Never use the word, fever, or “sick” to a stewardess.  It is the excuse she needs to kick you off her plane.   David gave whatever he had to Bob and I---and we are still coughing up crud.  But, it was worth it.  We had a wonderful visit with Abby and David.  Lauren drove them down to see her folks, and then flew to Alabama to see Andy graduate from captains school.  We got to keep Abby and David for a whole week.  All by ourselves.  Bob should have asked for subs, as Baby David did not understand why GrandDad had to hide behind his laptop getting a Sunday School lesson ready. 

We got to see Andy briefly on their flight back to DFW, but Andy had to fly on.  Lauren and the kids flew back to Alaska Sunday the 29^th.  The day Bob turned 22,100 and Baby James turned 555 days on Monday the 30^th.  David turned 666 days on August 2^nd. 

Ben moved back home from Austin.  He had worked for Walker for one year and they offer a transfer after one year.  He said they were laying people off in Austin, anyway.  Bob took off the 20^th of July and helped him haul stuff home.  The turtles in the 40 gallon aquarium were a hit with the grandkids.

We saw niece Jomona on August 3^rd up at Bob’s brother’s house in Frisco.  Aunt Sally fed us well.  I loved the broccoli salad she got from Costcos---she said it is a kit.  Comes with shredded and whole broc and dressing and nuts.  Good and crunchy.  And since I lost my sense of smell with my cold/cough, texture is good.

I know not to use any nose drops or spray.  Just Vicks.  But, lost my sense of smell anyway which makes food kinda bland.  No desire for chocolate.  Put the bags in the frig for another day.   Our AC went out on the 18^th of July.  Even though we were second on the list, it was noon before the repairman installed a new capacitor.  Now I don’t trust the AC nor the frig.  I don’t think the frig keeps things cold enough.  Time to replace it.  Still no dishwasher.  I don’t mind washing.  I look at the clouds.  Get clean hands. 

Amber posted a wonderful video of Baby Matthew (4 and a half months old) laughing at Baby James (18 and a half months old).  What a wonderful gift: laughing babies! 

The Grandkids are coming! The Grandkids are coming!

Unable/unwilling to travel up there, we are so glad firstborn's wife and kids are flying down here from Alaska.  yay!  Firstborn graduates from captains school the end of July, so this way, firstborn's wife and kids can visit friends in Houston, see a new baby born to a bridesmaid, see the other set of grandparents and great grands...then come back here and we will watch the kids whilst firstborn's wife goes to see her husband graduate.  No children allowed.  so sad. 

I really need to write a thank you to the Air Force for being anti-children so we get to watch them!  ha. 

Carseats are installed.  A chore we tackle early in the morning down here in Texas!  The toddler bed is re-assembled.  I even found the little "L" wrench and did it myself.  Thanks to how well our youngest son took it apart and taped the screws and bolts to the frame so they did not get lost.  yay. 

I found a "Cars" themed stroller at Walmart.  $14.  what a deal.  the umbrella-fold kind that fits nicely in the trunk area.  And I already had "Cars" themed sheets on the toddler bed.  Baby David likes cars.  I have a "Mighty Machine" DVD for him that he might like.  Purchased it many moon ago for just a time like this.

And Walmart had these cute pink tees with flags on them for $2 !!!  I should have bought more. 

I am excited.  Anything we can do to help our military folk.  We just want the trip/flights to go smoothly.  And for them to have a good trip.  They move to Florida in September, and things will be hectic then---to hectic for much of a visit, if they even get to come through here.  If it were me, I'd have the cars shipped, and fly directly to Florida.  It is just toooo long a drive for kids. 

But, however we can help.  Bob is saving vacation days.  Soon we will find out where the middle captain and family go next.  They move one more time this year, too.

I still have their high chair from last summer, too.  yay.  Glad I hung on to it.  I figure with three grands under age 2, we will still use it for years to come.  And the pink queen sized sheets were a good investment, as granddaughter loves pink.  I even have some pink towels just for her.  Am I a crazy grannie or what. 

And our youngest son moves back here from Austin July 20th.  yay.  He is an electrician.  I have a list of things that need fixed---the garage light, install a new dishwasher.  He says he will be working at the airport.  The company he has been with for a year now allows transfers and he jumped at it.  His friends are here, and it will be so good to have him back!

He will get to see his niece and nephew and be closer to help out when Cam is in the hospital, too.

Cam was suppose to come this weekend for another round of chemo, but some numbers were not right, so next weekend.  

and today--Saturday, July 7th is lima day at Cracker Barrel.

Birthday 2012

Dreaming:  I awoke in Alaska to the sound of my grandchildren laughing and giggling.  The cool mountain air ...  

Hey, I warned you it was a dream.  If I were thinner...in shape...if I could fit in an airline seat...

Dream Two:  to actually visit Iceland and see these places they feature live on live cams.  Looks so nice and cold.  Anything cold in July and August in Texas is a daydream.

Reality:  woke up listening to the radio, as Bob was getting up, getting showered and ready to go to work.  Our plan is for me to take him to the train, then pick him up after work at the train station and motor up to Carrabbas for some veal piccatta and garlic mashed potatoes.  Yummy.  I live a blessed life.  That was the plan.  anyhoo...

Gross out alert.  You might want to stop reading now if you would care to dwell on everything pure, gentle, beautiful and poop free.  You have been warned.  here is where I dump stuff.  Bob has no time to read my crap at work, so I dump it here.  Kinda an online journal.  A place where I dump crap and then turn and count my blessings.  For I am truly blessed.

This is 2012.  I was born in 1956 and I turn 56 this day.  Fun with numbers.

Now for the crap:  For the past few years, my periods have become irregular.  A few years ago, they got strangely heavy, so I went to my regular doctor, who sent me to a gnocologist and failing to make it through that visit due to bleeding everywhere and making a mess, and losing it, I sought another opinion from another gynocologist who reccommended lots of tests, one of which went awry and is already documented on this blog.  That gynocologists solution was to recommend a hysterectomy.  I wanted to wait and see if I was indeed in menopause.  Last year, I got five months "off".  Not consecutive, but, hey.  Heavy bleeding in Sept of '11, but heavy spotting and blood clots started up in January of this year, 2012.  I got March "off" but I have experienced heavy bleeding almost 24/7 except for the month of March.  Feeling tired, at times constipated, sitting on towells, taking showers, has been my life.  Washing underware, sheets, pants...soaking towels in the "soak" cycle of the washer for hours on end...laundry today is lined up for their turn.  I see three loads. 

The stores have been plentiful with ripe fruit:  strawberries, cherries, watermelon...

And I am an impulse buyer.  Walmart had this huge bag of natural almonds.  Bob loves cherries, and I bought two bags so we'd have plenty for the 4th of July.  Well, eating a handful of almonds, and then lots of cherries---and maybe something we ate on Sunday at Mexican Inn---I have not had to worry about constipation.  Blowouts, more like. 

I dropped Bob off at the train station.  And treated myself to a trip to Walmart.  They are not crowded at all early in the morning.  In fact, you have to go in the west door, as it is the only one open 24/7. 

I looked at the clothes, admired the baby clothing.  Cute slogans on little kid shirts.  Tempted to buy the one with an arrow that said, "my brother did it".  But, it was way too big for Baby James.

I got some yarn.  Fun colors.  They stock was low, but fun to look.  1.77 a skein nowadays. 

By the time I felt the urge, it was too late.  Just pulling down my pants smeared it everywhere.  Thankfully, I carry wet wipes.  But, I could not wait to get home and take a shower, then a bath.  Yikes.  What a mess.  Blowout on my birthday.  That oughta make it memorable.  Just like the day I was born.

while typing this--our local WBAP had this adventure.  Steve Lamb drove to a northern county to purchase fireworks.  they featured his purchases live online, which were funny to hear--like a kid in a candy shop.  But, ran into a snag wanting to drive them back to Dallas/Tarrant counties.  afraid of being arrested, he arranged to donate the firworks to a local church.  But, on-air kept saying things like he did not have them, he'd dumped them, he was someone else, etc... what a hoot.
 

Now for the blessings:  Count your blessings, name them one by one...

I am thankful for God's Perfect Plan.

Crime Scene

I feel like going to the police station and filling out a pre-crime scene report.  This pre-menopausal heavy bleeding is ridiculous.  I am doing sometimes two and three showers a day.  And at my size and girth...cleaning the bathroom after each visit means I am going through cases of wet wipes. 

I am thankful for the washer "soaker" cycle.  The only way to get blood out of towels and clothing.  And I am wearing out towels and clothing out by washing everything twice just to get the soap out. 

I have no desire to travel far.  And no way dare I sit in anyone else's house or car...  and if I do, I am nervous the whole time and check the chair when I get up.  Had to scrub a seat at church with a wet wipe. 

I don't think the evening primrose oil is doing anything.

I try to remember to take my iron tablet each day.

I can barely stay awake for late baseball games. 

Sure wish I had a clue as to how long this is going to go on. 

But, if anything happens to me, there is a record in my checkbook register.  Just say, "look, officer, her husband is innocent."  

I am thankful for wet wipes, extra long pads, pad with wings, and a working washer and dryer.   This must have been so vexing for women a hundred years ago.