tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10783247874719839332024-03-13T22:54:24.828-04:00Lynda Grace An Hour Awaylyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.comBlogger795125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-75896655445595913652024-02-15T21:47:00.005-05:002024-02-16T06:20:13.064-05:00My Joy My Ross<p> My love, my Ross, passed away on February 12, 2024, exactly twenty-seven years and one day from the first time we met. </p><p>And each and every one of those days of knowing him, being with him and loving him brought me joy.</p><p>Joy, a seemingly simple little three letter word, embodied all that was Ross. </p><p> I believe it was just his nature to generously give of himself. </p><p>One foggy and rainy winter night we were on the way to a holiday gathering at a friend's house.</p><p>As we headed down the dark highway, only several yards away, we witnessed a car swerve and crash into another car. When we got close enough, Ross immediately pulled over to the side of the road, jumped out of the car to see what help he could give. </p><p>Yes, he was that person. </p><p>I think what I loved most about him was his respect for my individual self. </p><p>We were opposites as far as personality goes. He a confident social extrovert, I a shy introvert uncomfortable in a group.</p><p>But, whenever we were in a gathering he made sure to encourage and include me in the conversation.</p><p>"Did you know that Lynda writes a blog?" he would say. Or, "Lynda is a beautiful knitter." </p><p>He was a kind soul. His soft brown eyes gave that away.</p><p>Even if someone may not have been kind to him he would say, "But she's a good person." </p><p>He was great with customer service people. Never expressed irritability but somehow always got what he set out to achieve. </p><p>With a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile, he would say, "I just used the force." </p><p>Did you know he had a dancing name. "Boogaloo Swimp". Don't ask :)</p><p>He had a catalog of jokes, sometimes complete with accents when necessary. And although he probably told me the same joke more than once, I'd still giggle. </p><p>He was my yarn shopping buddy. My podcast co-host. He knew the knitting lingo. "Do you have any FO's to show me?" he'd ask. </p><p>He loved being Pop-pop. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfqALJbyZq5hyM8H-jBijfUeMDJjjTdc7qp8YpgIA2moTY3s48GMZazgYJpcgw9x9deONjJJyTWdORa2ld82DUl1sAp9A50c8w-fUN16QLTpPdZHaRkmZpjmRNLYg68ZoANy5HVHDLk25jI9eZUs6TkkE-B3qeV9xqCT1bWRyCZrqc501LQkdK59B7EmN/s225/brokenheart.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="33" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfqALJbyZq5hyM8H-jBijfUeMDJjjTdc7qp8YpgIA2moTY3s48GMZazgYJpcgw9x9deONjJJyTWdORa2ld82DUl1sAp9A50c8w-fUN16QLTpPdZHaRkmZpjmRNLYg68ZoANy5HVHDLk25jI9eZUs6TkkE-B3qeV9xqCT1bWRyCZrqc501LQkdK59B7EmN/w33-h33/brokenheart.png" width="33" /></a></div>Although I miss so much already, am achingly heartbroken and wonder what I'm going to do without him, <div><br /></div><div>I feel so blessed to have had those 27 joy filled years with my love, my Ross. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFHbcjYnb60L2ksgp0fWyqUHaB07kzKmI_5FoHJ2erjY8v8k_taReekhABjsg8669XTI5U32kNo2cmHOXQ8YKRXcH9tWWMvKx2pSO6PdoP-imfyXhsv03Nrzco9dZblLqSAB20bYMyc4P2ocTUbq3aWMqLnfk3TpLPE0Qr-YM7kbGQ6DRyDOn3-f4LhVc/s5493/IMG_4822.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5493" data-original-width="3667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHFHbcjYnb60L2ksgp0fWyqUHaB07kzKmI_5FoHJ2erjY8v8k_taReekhABjsg8669XTI5U32kNo2cmHOXQ8YKRXcH9tWWMvKx2pSO6PdoP-imfyXhsv03Nrzco9dZblLqSAB20bYMyc4P2ocTUbq3aWMqLnfk3TpLPE0Qr-YM7kbGQ6DRyDOn3-f4LhVc/s320/IMG_4822.JPG" width="214" /></a></div><p><br /></p></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-9257364933148316692023-04-14T10:33:00.003-04:002023-04-14T10:33:47.771-04:00The Birdfeeder <p> Friday, April 14, 2023</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYS9l_JjtM_-Ma5thR-PU4C2-qSBQgpdePKcHgOK6pkFgPTzzBzoGJQ5BbOl88Awt_s5tXjWQl3pkMVzHretqo414whfKjSX4fMgd7L1MDwpd2l2amdTnAPYm7S4P0zhKj1N3ao2qZpnVcAHap-PS4zTEfy7Sai8S9ItGB7tW-03rk_iHi6ycacD2MA/s3112/IMG_5275%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3112" data-original-width="2334" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYS9l_JjtM_-Ma5thR-PU4C2-qSBQgpdePKcHgOK6pkFgPTzzBzoGJQ5BbOl88Awt_s5tXjWQl3pkMVzHretqo414whfKjSX4fMgd7L1MDwpd2l2amdTnAPYm7S4P0zhKj1N3ao2qZpnVcAHap-PS4zTEfy7Sai8S9ItGB7tW-03rk_iHi6ycacD2MA/s320/IMG_5275%20copy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />I Cried A Little This Morning<p></p><p> I have not been honest with Sadness. Pretending she does not exist. Paying her no mind.</p><p>It's been a painstakingly long, brick by brick process to build a wall that <i>she</i> cannot penetrate.</p><p>Oh, I've had conflicts with Frustration and Anger. Big battles in which they were the victor. I would come away bruised and weary, guilty tears of regret readily flowing. </p><p>I foolishly believed those bouts with Frustration and Anger gave me the strength to complete a wall that Sadness could not invade. </p><p>Undaunted, Sadness whispers to me. She says things like "You know the illness, it's what we call The Long Goodbye. Surely that must make you sad, doesn't it?" </p><p>With Anger egging me on, I defiantly reply, "He's still here! I take care of him, I touch him, I kiss him good night. I am <i>not </i>sad. We have <i>not</i> said good-bye!"</p><p>Sadness is relentless. She follows me on my walks. "Remember how you and he walked this same path, <i>together</i>? Isn't it sad that he's not here with you today?" </p><p>I quicken my step to try to out pace her and turn up my music to drown out her taunts. </p><p>The other day, uninvited of course, Sadness came with me to browse around my sweetheart's and my local favorite garden center. It was a springtime ritual. He would look at the vegetable and herb plants. My interest was the flower plants. </p><p>That day, I impulsively purchased a $75 bird feeder. Guaranteed to keep the squirrels at bay. </p><p>"What would he have had to say about that?" Sadness asked. I thought about that for a minute or two as I carried my purchase to the car. </p><p>Today I hung the feeder at the edge of our patio. The spot is perfect. I can see it from our kitchen window and also from our bedroom window where my sweetheart lies in his hospital bed. </p><p>A few little finches immediately found their way and began pecking at the seed. I watched from the bedroom window as empty seed pods floated onto the newly spring-green grass.</p><p>As I excitedly turned to tell Ross that the birds had already found the feeder, I caught a flash of bright red out of the corner of my eye. </p><p>A cardinal was on the feeder, his mate waiting patiently on the ground for her turn. </p><p>"Sweetheart," I said, Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal are here."</p><p> I imagined his smile, and knew what he would have said. </p><p>"See I told you buying that feeder would bring you joy. Anything for my sweetheart, you know that."</p><p>It's okay, Sadness lovingly whispered, it's ok. </p><p>And I cried. </p><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-92061552678321631562023-02-07T10:39:00.000-05:002023-02-07T10:40:50.013-05:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> The Two Beds</div></div></div><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The Two Beds</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Tuesday, February 7, 2023</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrVKw--DpP-Y0Mubdsw7RXlZRXwQwA-vmwsxwy_QXFyl2bX2lR4u3ccIrumAHNAs2_24UYIf6BkuJBitZAJEg4xG7hY_7ts6YUiUegryLH9jjbMSlr2m_DaTyKhFcB75uWkrY8aysrrC4LaTnH9tdbORFE7iPkd4qQk7qvjl0MylbjxDZ2mW5UZxcEA/s4032/IMG_4937.jpg.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrVKw--DpP-Y0Mubdsw7RXlZRXwQwA-vmwsxwy_QXFyl2bX2lR4u3ccIrumAHNAs2_24UYIf6BkuJBitZAJEg4xG7hY_7ts6YUiUegryLH9jjbMSlr2m_DaTyKhFcB75uWkrY8aysrrC4LaTnH9tdbORFE7iPkd4qQk7qvjl0MylbjxDZ2mW5UZxcEA/w320-h240/IMG_4937.jpg.heic" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">It’s early, 5:31 a.m. to be exact and still very dark. Shadows of light streaming in from night-lights streak the walls.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Lying in the middle of the Big Bed, I’m tired but wide awake. </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Ross is peacefully sleeping in the bed next to me. It's a narrow bed with cold chrome metal rails. I can hear his quiet breathing, in and out, in and out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I am thinking of the last time we were together in the Big Bed. It too was early morning, a few weeks ago. twenty-six days to be exact. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I was snuggled up to him, my arms across his thin bony chest. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I painfully recall that I was softly crying, murmuring a lot of “I’m sorries”.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">“I’m sorry I got angry,” I whispered. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">“It’s just that I’m tired, so tired.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"><span class="Apple-converted-space">"I'm so sorry." </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">All that week Ross had been particularly restless during the day but even more so at night.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">That night I woke in the middle of the night to find him wandering around the bedroom, pointing and gesturing, lecturing to his long-ago students.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">“Ross,” I grumpily and harshly said, “come back to bed!"<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">After several more futile attempts to urge him back into the bed, raising my voice louder each time, I impatiently got out of bed, took his arm and and tried to lead him towards the bed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">He shook my hand away, mumbling something about his students.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Frustrated, I sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what to do.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">An hour later, now 5:30 a.m., I could see he was slowing down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I stood up and once again took his arm. This time he let me lead him towards the bed. I helped him in and he immediately fell asleep.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Little did I know, as I held onto him, whispering my apologies, that it would be the last time we would be together in the Big Bed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Later that morning, as I tried to get Ross dressed, he was unable to stand and could not lift himself out of the wheelchair. </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I had to call 911.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">He spent 4 days in the hospital with no improvement. </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">During those 4 days I made arrangements to have a hospital bed brought into the house and put next to the Big Bed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">He is now bedridden, confined to the narrow bed with the cold chrome metal rails.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Each evening, 9:15 to be exact, I stand by the narrow bed. I lean over and stroke his silver hair.</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">“I’m going to get my PJ’s on now,” I say."<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">"Then I’m going to go to sleep right next to you, okay?”</p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">I lean over the chrome barriers to kiss his forehead.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">“I love you. You are my favorite. You’re my sweetheart.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">Although he doesn’t respond, I know he understands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;">As I hold tightly onto those icy barriers, with not even the heat from the palms of my hands warming them, I yearn to crawl in next to him one more time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: start;"> </p></div><p><br /><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-68893825174126903402022-05-12T10:13:00.003-04:002022-05-13T08:18:47.241-04:00This Is NOT Us<p> I've been watching the TV series "This Is Us" from the time it began. I feel it is one of <i>the</i> best network shows. I like the writing style of going from past to present then giving us glimpses of the future which keep us guessing. </p><p>When it was revealed that Rebecca, the mother in the series, would become ill with Alzheimer's, I became hesitant about continuing to watch. </p><p>Ross usually watches the show with me. I wondered if he understood what was happening with Rebecca. I think he kind of half watches and we don't discuss the goings-on of the show so I'm not sure. </p><p>The episodes airing now are the last of the series. The Pearsons are saying goodbye.</p><p>It's the past <i>two</i> episodes that have had me bothered, just a little.</p><p>Going back to my being hesitant about continuing to watch, I was concerned that the episodes depicting Rebecca's decline would be too realistic for me to sit through. I basically get through <i>my </i>days of caregiving by taking it one day at a time. I don't think I could manage otherwise.</p><p>At this point in the Lynda and Ross story of Alzheimer's, Ross requires 24/7 care. By that I mean his memory loss affects his cognitive and decision making abilities. For instance he may try to make sure all of the gas burners are off, but instead turn them on and then leave the room. Yes, he has done that. </p><p>He gets anxious when he doesn't recognize where he is and he doesn't remember that where we live is his home. Overall he is usually restless. Sometimes he will spend hours going from room to room, trying to find something familiar. </p><p>Here's where I find the caregiving of Rebecca Pearson unrelatable to my experience of caregiving for Ross.</p><p>The Pearson's can apparently easily and comfortably afford to hire 24/7 caregiving for their mother. Her son built an estate on idyllic acreages where Kate and mom can take leisurely walks through the woods listening to the birds. </p><p>Ross likes to take walks with me. We may walk a couple of blocks and when we get tired we turn around and head back home. Our walks are usually pleasant. But sometimes when we get to our house, Ross may refuse to go in because "I will not just walk into someone else's home." </p><p>Ross and I cannot afford 24/7 help. So it's just me.</p><p>In these United States of America, Medicare insurance does not cover the cost of help with in-home care nor does it cover the cost of care in a residential care facility. The average cost of that type of care here in New Jersey amounts to between $8000-$12000 a month. Most of those facilities are short staffed and residents may not be getting the "Pearson" treatment. </p><p>I know it's just a TV show and the Pearsons are not real. I literally mean that the Pearsons story of caring for someone with Alzheimer's is not realistic. Oh, I'm sure there are a percentage of families where they can afford the type of care Rebecca Pearson received, but I wonder if that is <i>not </i>the majority of us. </p><p>Yesterday, Ross and I had a quietly peaceful day. We spent the day watching "The Gilded Age", (another fantasy series about the ultra wealthy) me in my PJ's on the sofa knitting, Ross dozing in his easy chair. I feel grateful for those days. They don't happen often. </p><p>But unlike the Pearsons, "The Ross and Lynda" story is not yet over. </p><p>Watch this space. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcMnPpui0wKz57zz2WDuPNbkG2PDDJlPjbBB5Wgi0Bc_7u9CvXlwGeeoJNyKvPbADXrUX2rD9yWz6wCdNk7pogbh2SKnzcIIXXzT-yqPxYt93Tte8lRZEAxifnFpspPrlRG3X5_YNx2BVJVLfUMph__2BDzaKJOdMiyrngT5jO8yQ8lsdHde3gTzrtA/s2478/RossandMeblogpic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1859" data-original-width="2478" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrcMnPpui0wKz57zz2WDuPNbkG2PDDJlPjbBB5Wgi0Bc_7u9CvXlwGeeoJNyKvPbADXrUX2rD9yWz6wCdNk7pogbh2SKnzcIIXXzT-yqPxYt93Tte8lRZEAxifnFpspPrlRG3X5_YNx2BVJVLfUMph__2BDzaKJOdMiyrngT5jO8yQ8lsdHde3gTzrtA/s320/RossandMeblogpic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-941701974971199852022-04-24T09:48:00.003-04:002022-04-24T09:49:31.375-04:00The Two Lynda's<p> <span style="font-size: medium;"><b>April 23, 2022</b></span></p><p>It's a Saturday.</p><p><br /></p><p>Today begins the start of the annual New Jersey Wool Walk. </p><p>According to the NJWW website:</p><p><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Montserrat; font-size: 18px;"><span style="font-weight: 700;">What is the NJWW?</span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Montserrat; font-size: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Montserrat; font-size: 18px;">During this yearly event, participating yarn stores offer special events, discounts, designer appearances, book signings, and trunk shows. </span></span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">This year's event starts today and goes until May, 1. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">I believe this is the first in-person event since the pandemic.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">In past years I would have been out the door already with Ross, a list of yarn shops and a map in tow. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 18px;">Although I am tempted, this year I'm not motivated. Perhaps that's because instead of being the leisurely passenger and navigator I will be the driver/</span></span><span style="font-size: 18px;">navigator.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9HGs0oIe-2vzuptnCQEKoygT6SLH4X4FrB5oN4NHf0mMQWdzUAtvgjgGrVvQ5RhtuJD4pKMFEyFN0ePtDGWoh-a5XZ3i2HzGkeChRq96xysYjcFv49Y0YTq4yLD52PMwaUlqkLJb5gT8DLQKCwrnR9uXCoGYZyZWZvYavVJKWqvJxETwko7dzn-0gw/s3589/knittingroom.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3589" data-original-width="2703" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9HGs0oIe-2vzuptnCQEKoygT6SLH4X4FrB5oN4NHf0mMQWdzUAtvgjgGrVvQ5RhtuJD4pKMFEyFN0ePtDGWoh-a5XZ3i2HzGkeChRq96xysYjcFv49Y0YTq4yLD52PMwaUlqkLJb5gT8DLQKCwrnR9uXCoGYZyZWZvYavVJKWqvJxETwko7dzn-0gw/w241-h320/knittingroom.jpg" width="241" /><span style="font-size: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: Montserrat;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;">Besides I am comfortably ensconced in my cozy knitting knook at the moment.</span></span></p><p>I am also on a strict yarn diet. Although, I <i>could</i> use a skein of Mohair for that future project which has yet to be decided. </p><p>I <i>am</i> feeling kind of down today <i>and</i> a little lethargic Maybe I <i>need </i>to go to a yarn store or two. I'm thinking that yarn sensory therapy just might be the ticket. </p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>April 24, 2022</b></span></p><p>It's a Sunday</p><p>Well, we didn't go to the woolwalk. </p><p>One of the learning experiences I have had over these past two years is that Ross is much better when we are out and about.</p><p>Thinking about how yesterday turned out, we most definitely should have gone. </p><p>I asked Ross several times during the morning if he was interested in visiting our favorite yarn store. He shook his head. "No," he said. "I just don't feel like it."</p><p>As I continued about my day, going through the house doing laundry, straightening, thinking about what to prepare for lunch, I suddenly noticed it had been a few minutes since I had seen Ross. </p><p>When we are in the house, Ross is usually not out of my site for more than a few minutes. </p><p>As I started to look in each room calling his name, I noticed the front door was ajar. I stepped out and looked up and down the street but didn't see him. </p><p>At this point in our Alzheimer's journey Ross doesn't recognize where he lives. Even though the houses in our development are uniform, they are different, but in Ross' world he cannot disquinish which house is his. </p><p>Although this isn't the first time this has happened, his behavior is usually an indication that he might want to "wander". This time I had no warning. </p><p>I must say, the first couple of times Ross has wandered off, I panicked. I had that stomach drop feeling, like when you lose your child in the mall. </p><p>But yesterday I was rather calm. I guess that's because I knew I would find him safe and sound. </p><p> I got my car keys with the intention of driving around to look for him. I knew he couldn't have gone too far. When I got outside, I again looked down the street and I spotted them, two blocks away. It was Ross with one of our neighbors. They were arm in arm and she was walking him towards our house. </p><p>As I said this isn't the first time. But my feelings were different this time. </p><p>The first few times he wandered I got angry at Ross. </p><p>"Why did you do that?" I would say in my upset parent voice. And then I would lecture about the dangers of him being out alone. </p><p>But, that was inexperienced caregiver anger. That was the lack of understanding anger. </p><p>Yesterday, I still felt angry, but my anger is directed at this horrible disease. </p><p>I feel frustrated because I don't know how to stop Ross from wandering. I fact, 20 minutes later, he did the exact same thing. I found him standing in front of that same neighbor's house. Interestingly enough, her name is Linda. My neighbor Linda and I look nothing alike. </p><p>So instead of going to the NJWW we wound up going to the German Butcher shop. Ross loves to go there. I'd like to say that the rest of the day was swell, but it wasn't. </p><p>We have nice <i>moments</i> during each day. Some days those moments add up to hours. Some days the not so nice moments seem like hours.</p><p> Perhaps today we will go to the New Jersey Wool Walk. I could <i>really</i> use that sensory yarn therapy. </p><p><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-19311569449241458392022-04-04T09:41:00.000-04:002022-04-04T09:41:16.192-04:00Because That's Who Joe Was<p> April 4, 2022</p><p>It's a Monday</p><p>Today would have been my son Joe's 47th birthday. It's been 10 years since he passed away. </p><p>I started this blog ten years ago to write what I had a hard time saying out loud. </p><p>"They" say grief is a process one goes through after a loss. </p><p>"You may not believe it now, "they" said, but eventually you will be able to think of Joe without the ache." </p><p>"Oh yes, you will be able to remember the happy times you had with Joe and you will find yourself smiling", "they" said. </p><p>I hold so tightly onto the "loss ache", though. Perhaps my long ago memories are too faded now. </p><p>But, as I sit here quietly today, close my eyes and reflect on that 47 years ago day, I surprisingly find that I <i>can</i> easily bring forth the hidden memories that "loss ache" tries to overshadow. </p><p>It was an easy birth, of course it would be because that's who Joe was. </p><p>When he was placed in my arms, he wasn't wriggly, but lay there quietly looking up at me as if he were trying to figure out where he was and who I was. Yep, that was Joe. Quiet and introspective. </p><p>I remember the day as a happy and joyous one, yet peaceful at the same time. A day spent studying each other, checking each other out. I like to think that Joe, after careful consideration, cause that's who Joe was, made a decision to keep me as his mom. 😍</p><p>And so for a little bit of time today I found myself smiling. Because <i>that's</i> who Joe was. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgklvWD9YAqhz4_8rfsf5NWBSp8LcgpJrWGuuhY_BCWrzIxeow9Zza70cU-jrehzem9bI83AHvS7DZW5kREKpYpDn7zQGJzBE7cyucbNrGd7vVCBZhem64m9t4C38lIEXKy6j8TI0yHodcH39VIVWaR_RUC-IPENOe_o_Xt3W76U9T4EhtwVffrK7UWQ/s1410/Joeme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1410" data-original-width="1410" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgklvWD9YAqhz4_8rfsf5NWBSp8LcgpJrWGuuhY_BCWrzIxeow9Zza70cU-jrehzem9bI83AHvS7DZW5kREKpYpDn7zQGJzBE7cyucbNrGd7vVCBZhem64m9t4C38lIEXKy6j8TI0yHodcH39VIVWaR_RUC-IPENOe_o_Xt3W76U9T4EhtwVffrK7UWQ/s320/Joeme.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-35295586183692576682022-03-18T10:20:00.001-04:002022-03-18T19:18:33.642-04:00"It Made Me Sad," He Said. <p> Friday, March 18, 2022</p><p>Well, we've made it thru most of the winter. Cases of Covid-19 have dropped dramatically. Fingers crossed that we are all headed back to healthy.</p><p>March weather here in the south of New Jersey has Winter baring its teeth with stubborn tenacity while Spring hints at its arrival by sprinkling in warmer temperatures now and then. </p><p>Ross' condition has not changed much since I wrote about it in January. </p><p>A neighbor whose husband has dementia participates in a program three days a week. She says he loves it and recommended that we check it out. </p><p>So, last week Ross and I visited <a href="https://www.regencymemorycare.com/" target="_blank">The Regency Memory Care Club</a> to explore and find out more information.</p><p>The first thing I noticed was that the place was secure. We had to be buzzed in. That was reassuring. </p><p>Once inside we were greeted by two women who spoke to us in loud voices. </p><p>"HELLO, ROSS. MY, YOU ARE HANDSOME", the taller one said. </p><p>Before either of us had a chance to respond, the taller woman hooked her arm thru Ross' and led him towards a room filled with round tables where people were sitting and eating cake.</p><p>"IT'S SNACK TIME, ROSS." COME JOIN US FOR CAKE. IT'S ROSE'S 99TH BIRTHDAY TODAY!</p><p>My sensitive introvert brain was preoccupied with the noise and bustling activity. And "wait, where was that woman taking Ross?" </p><p>It took me a moment to realize that the other woman was "shouting" at me to follow her. </p><p>She led me thru a maze of rooms. Each of of the doors of these rooms had security locks. She had to punch a code in order to enter. </p><p>As we were walking she was pointing and talking. "That's the dining room. Over here is the salon. There's where we do our activities, here's the kitchen..."</p><p>At least I think that's what she was saying. My mind was still back at the front of the building, wondering "wait, where were they taking Ross?"</p><p>We finally made our way into what appeared to be a conference room. Once we sat down, she began to go through her "presentation" which she had obviously given hundreds of times. </p><p>I have to admit, I listened with half an ear, because I was thinking about how Ross was doing celebrating Rose's 99th birthday. </p><p>After she was done explaining everything to me, we made our way back thru the maze of rooms.</p><p>There was a group of people singing in one of the rooms we passed by. A woman leading the group was, I assumed, one of the activities directors. She sang very loudly. </p><p>Once we got back to the front of the building, I spotted Ross sitting at a small round table with two other people. Off to the side, in a section of the room where Ross was sitting, was another group of loudly singing people. </p><p>After we said our good-byes, our tour guide walked us back to the exit. As we went out the door, she waved and shouted, "HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON,ROSS!</p><p>When we got outside, and began walking towards our car, I noticed with a sigh of relief, the quiet. </p><p>Once we were settled in the car, I asked Ross how he felt about his experience. </p><p>"It made me sad," he said.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRIoiob6G7WLMAZum4WKJwi7qFQ5iIpv1ryLd-DSlDL6GWa_E5oPEIGdd6z3dGkGFL38NvfeRFW6HUlOoBUq_vnOT6r3_r_08AD0-fx4EIh8kVN0cKvjt96F6XcKBDh-jtZUL9mcxKFxC-GTF4zakQ6a1mUHKBpCB9OGqEYbqqOBkZZ2B2VJsO5kyMGw=s1439" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1439" data-original-width="1170" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgRIoiob6G7WLMAZum4WKJwi7qFQ5iIpv1ryLd-DSlDL6GWa_E5oPEIGdd6z3dGkGFL38NvfeRFW6HUlOoBUq_vnOT6r3_r_08AD0-fx4EIh8kVN0cKvjt96F6XcKBDh-jtZUL9mcxKFxC-GTF4zakQ6a1mUHKBpCB9OGqEYbqqOBkZZ2B2VJsO5kyMGw=s320" width="260" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-19615882006574490872022-01-13T11:53:00.001-05:002022-01-13T11:59:21.048-05:00Come Visit - It's Been Awhile<p> January 13, 2022</p><p><br /></p><p>Well the Bug keeps raging on. Now it's the omicron variant of the Covid19 virus that is spreading like wildfire. </p><p>Ross and I have had all three shots. I try to remember to make sure we wear our masks, which I have now switched to the KN95 version of, when we go into a store. </p><p>I try not to go in to many places and have been avoiding eating out.</p><p>I woke up this morning thinking how nice it would be to go out for breakfast. I am getting tired of preparing 3 meals a day.</p><p>I try to avoid the news channels because I am tired of all of it. The so called "breaking news" should be renamed to be "breaking bad news". </p><p>So instead I spent 40+ hours binge watching "Yellowstone". Was it better than watching "breaking bad news"? I don't know. </p><p>As time goes on my current care-giving situation is more challenging.</p><p>A couple of months ago I tried a caregiving service. It is expensive. Three times a week - 3 hours each day. The services provided included help with whatever physical needs Ross had, such as dressing, showering, bathroom, etc. In addition the person would prepare meals, do Ross' laundry, food shop. The person would stay with Ross if I had to go out. "It would give you a break, " They said. I was very hopeful. </p><p>But it didn't work out for several reasons. First of all the caregiver was a woman. (I'll call her Tess) It was immediately obvious that Ross was uncomfortable having a woman help with his physical needs. </p><p>Although Tess was a nice person, her personality wasn't compatible with Ross'. She was quite chatty. After the first day, I knew her whole life history and we would get a running commentary on her daily life each day. I think Ross was bored with her. LOL</p><p>Her way of occupying Ross' time was to put the TV on, old movies and TV shows and then sit herself down to play games on her phone, Needless to say, not very interesting for Ross. </p><p>The biggest problem, though, was Ross was wary of her. I'm sure the Alzheimers' paranoia contributed to this. </p><p>As a trial, after she had been with us about a week, I had gone out a couple of times Each time I was gone maybe an hour, which seemed tolerable for Ross.</p><p>After about the fourth week, I attempted a longer time away. I think I was gone for maybe 90 minutes when the caregiver (I'll call her Tess) called me to say that Ross was very anxious and that he kept asking where I was and when I would be back. She assured me, though, that I was not to worry and to take my time. I immediately left my shopping cart filled with items, left the store, got into my car and headed home.</p><p>I won't go into details, but Tess was unable to handle Ross' anxiety. </p><p>Of course after that incident I cancelled the service. I received a phone call from the owner of the agency. and I explained why I was not happy with the service. To tell you the truth, at this point, after my experience of hiring a caregiver, I realized that having someone in the house with us had caused me and Ross more stress. </p><p>Perhaps as time goes on, I might have to try again. </p><p>As a caregiver I will offer a bit of insight into <i>my</i> needs. If you want to offer support, and have not been in my position, your <i>advice</i> will probably cause me more stress than appreciation. What <i>would</i> be appreciated by me is for you to listen. That's all, just listen. </p><p>Phone calls and video chats are always welcome, for me <i>and </i>for Ross. Invite us to lunch or drop by. </p><p>Ross may not be able to communicate as well, the words just don't come very easily, but he still loves social intercourse. </p><p>In a previous post <a href="https://www.lganhouraway.com/2021/09/a-caregivers-dance.html" target="_blank">A Caregiver's Dance</a> I wrote <i>"<span style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px;">Regarding my caregiver situation, many of the comments I receive from friends, family, and internet buddies are some variation of this one, "I don't know how you do it". </span></i></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><i>My answer, said with a wry smile, is usually some form of this one, "I don't think about it, I just do. " </i></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; text-size-adjust: auto;">Now, as I catch myself watching Ross, perhaps trying to memorize him, I realize the answer to the question of "how I do it?" is simple. I love and am in love with him. </p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></p><p style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16px; text-size-adjust: auto;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs6U4HZLe9jdWv3lEjrlq08gehU8_MU_TqE9SiLftCzauvEv4mgLSeWmNGXhuHGpOrP6quxpJjKPdw4bCFigD-Ajve2ntXQ5d1oDwtXOWgFx3c5GhZERVVbUNGT6VybGDBPLT4_0yTBERd70sxFPKaMlqyTwH9CMZmcr4itosLcjwK4LLnjSzJtAE5zQ=s3088" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs6U4HZLe9jdWv3lEjrlq08gehU8_MU_TqE9SiLftCzauvEv4mgLSeWmNGXhuHGpOrP6quxpJjKPdw4bCFigD-Ajve2ntXQ5d1oDwtXOWgFx3c5GhZERVVbUNGT6VybGDBPLT4_0yTBERd70sxFPKaMlqyTwH9CMZmcr4itosLcjwK4LLnjSzJtAE5zQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-37255495469758944272021-09-13T18:32:00.002-04:002021-09-22T11:17:43.853-04:00Our Trip To The New Jersey Sheep and Fiber Festival September 11, 2021<p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Saturday, September 11, 2021</span></p><p><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today was the NJ Sheep and Fiber festival Hunterdon County 4H Fairgrounds in Ringoes NJ on the usual 1st weekend after Labor Day </span><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sep. 11-12, 2021.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xn6vb4vZOZ4/YT9f1zjOd7I/AAAAAAAANMg/2EGW5i6KiGUiY7uI5jjeNxLxh1xfIAhfwCLcBGAsYHQ/s828/IMG_8173sheep.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="828" height="176" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xn6vb4vZOZ4/YT9f1zjOd7I/AAAAAAAANMg/2EGW5i6KiGUiY7uI5jjeNxLxh1xfIAhfwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8173sheep.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(26, 26, 26); color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; text-size-adjust: auto;">The Sheep & Fiber Festival is presented annually to showcase the beauty of sheep and other fiber animals, as well as to offer a variety of products for sale by breeders, vendors and artisans.</span></div><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is the fourth time we've been to this one. They didn't have it last year because of Covid-19. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The weather forecast was sunny and for temperatures to be in the low 80's. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We left after breakfast at around 9:30. We had two stops to make before we could begin the actual trip. First we picked up a prescription at CVS and then filled the gas tank at WA-WA.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">According to GPS - Seri - the trip to Ringoes, NJ would take us about 90 minutes. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first hour of the route was very familiar. It's the way we go to my daughter's house. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The road, Route 539 is a two lane county highway. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are many traffic light intersections along the way. This breaks up the traffic pattern into strings of about 4 - 10 cars steadily moving, caravan style. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Much of the route passes through isolated areas of the Pine Barrens and the eastern end of the Fort Dix entity of Joint Base McGuire–Dix–Lakehurst. In these stretches, the route has a speed limit of 55mph, one of the few two-lane roads in the state to carry a 55 mph limit. Along much of the road, there are passing and no-passing zones. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DVkzFpb4m3E/YT9fHDAxFHI/AAAAAAAANMY/I-WVNvkjhwQaRiKWwZnBAvwgz24uW6rhgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1344/IMG_8172539.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1344" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DVkzFpb4m3E/YT9fHDAxFHI/AAAAAAAANMY/I-WVNvkjhwQaRiKWwZnBAvwgz24uW6rhgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8172539.jpg" width="197" /></a></div></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now I am a strict observer of the speed limit. In the sections of the road where passing is allowed, it's annoyingly obvious to me that most drivers do not obey the speed limit because I always get passed. I never understand why these impatient people feel that those perhaps five minutes they may save by passing me is so urgent. I must admit I gleefully love it when I catch up to them at the next traffic light. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even at my steady, obeying the speed limit speed, we arrived at the fair grounds in the 90 minutes that Siri predicted. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we pulled into the entrance, there were people directing cars into the various parking areas. I think I was supposed to stop and pay an entrance fee. But I thought they were waving me on, not waving me to stop. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh well. Sorry, Sheep Breeders. I'll catch you next time.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Compared to other fiber festivals we have been to, this one is fairly small. There are four barns. Two of the barns are where the animals are being shown. The other two barns are filled with vendor booths. There are various types of vendors all having to do with fiber, and fiber crafting. I would say the majority of the vendors are selling yarn that they have hand dyed. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were not a lot of people in the first two barns. They were the ones where the sheep and goats were being judged and shown. </span></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsuuVI0AB14/YT9k8tk-gCI/AAAAAAAANM4/HC8aA--OAQ45dvyn7LAJiDGFV5jGGHOXACLcBGAsYHQ/s828/IMG_8175shheepy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="828" height="167" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QsuuVI0AB14/YT9k8tk-gCI/AAAAAAAANM4/HC8aA--OAQ45dvyn7LAJiDGFV5jGGHOXACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8175shheepy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The vendor barns were quite crowded. This posed a dilemma for me. Mask or no mask. I would say 2/3 of the people were <i>not </i>wearing masks. As we entered the vendor barn, I told Ross we should mask up. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once we started through, Ross took his mask off. I kept mine on. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">These festivals are typically tough to navigate through. Most of the vendors have single booths and they are small. Once the booths are filled with product displays, there isn't must room for customers to comfortably browse. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M6emTkOvExc/YT9mm-kuyGI/AAAAAAAANNA/JeEQGSXDDs814n5DYIkjFbpMsvJlQG7lgCLcBGAsYHQ/s828/IMG_8176people.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="438" data-original-width="828" height="169" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M6emTkOvExc/YT9mm-kuyGI/AAAAAAAANNA/JeEQGSXDDs814n5DYIkjFbpMsvJlQG7lgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8176people.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I was a little concerned about how Ross would do today. There is a lot of walking. Also, it can get quite warm in the barns. He is now a slow mover. He also gets distracted easily. In times past, I would usually be walking ahead of him, not worrying about whether he was in sight because I knew we would eventually catch up to each other. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, we walked side by side. Since he is somewhat unsteady on his feet, I suggested that he bring his cane and it did help. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-49ZiGBnsQ28/YT9nvrt9fDI/AAAAAAAANNI/wnngHDWT5OMSXU8fEERnxLH-C2GLQg-cwCLcBGAsYHQ/s828/IMG_8177ross.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="828" height="173" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-49ZiGBnsQ28/YT9nvrt9fDI/AAAAAAAANNI/wnngHDWT5OMSXU8fEERnxLH-C2GLQg-cwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8177ross.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because customers were elbow to elbow in the booths, I wasn't comfortable being that close to others. I was constantly making sure I kept track of where Ross was which made browsing and shopping nearly impossible. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I personally know four of the vendors. I had another couple of favorite vendors that I wanted to visit. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I found the way the layout of the booths were described in the brochure difficult to understand. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">For instance one of the booths I wanted to visit was listed as being located "4 SE Wall'.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Huh? I assume the 4 meant barn 4 and SE was the South East Wall? Again it was probably just me, but I couldn't even find where the barns were labeled as being 1, 2 3 or 4. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though we walked through the entire two vendor barns, I never found the booth at "4 SE Wall".</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We did find Helen and Mary Beth of the "Crafty Toads" but they and their booth were so busy we just waved, said hello and then moved along. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vkZd5IE4Cyo/YT9hY-0U_WI/AAAAAAAANMo/X7AZde2VmwI6aGdPJZK_MWjyt1WGYdIvwCLcBGAsYHQ/s820/IMG_8174chelsea.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="820" height="176" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vkZd5IE4Cyo/YT9hY-0U_WI/AAAAAAAANMo/X7AZde2VmwI6aGdPJZK_MWjyt1WGYdIvwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_8174chelsea.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCdVOLnPefo/YT9imk84msI/AAAAAAAANMw/Blx-pAXZ_HIoNpnZxF0hmWP0yb1d_YF3ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1096/IMG_8171cya.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1096" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCdVOLnPefo/YT9imk84msI/AAAAAAAANMw/Blx-pAXZ_HIoNpnZxF0hmWP0yb1d_YF3ACLcBGAsYHQ/w242-h320/IMG_8171cya.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>We were able to chat a little with Christina the owner of Chelsea Yarns. Christina is also one of Ross' favorites. He enjoys exchanging quips with her. She helped me pick out yarn for a sweater pattern that she and a designer collaborated on.<br /></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The yarn is gorgeous! That turned out to be the only purchase I made today.<br /></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Normally, at these affairs, I would buy single skeins of yarn from various sellers. I have quite a stash of those singletons without a specific idea for their use. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am quite happy with my one purchase this time because I bought enough yarn for a planned project. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">After completing the tour of the two vendor barns, both of us had had enough. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started out tired from 1-1/2 hour drive to get the fair. Knowing that I had another 1-1/2 hour drive back, I knew it was time to go. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There's a diner right near the fairgrounds. We decided to stop for lunch. We both had grilled cheese sandwiches and pink lemonades. It was a good break to be able to sit and relax before the drive home. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;">We got home around 3:30. We turned on the Navy game and chilled out the rest of the evening.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" /><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKtaShpVUJs/YT_NOOkF7JI/AAAAAAAANNU/4ZN5L5iRu50BRHrgpd-xaMAHcvJurGHFQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_8201haul.jpg" style="background-color: white; clear: right; display: inline; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKtaShpVUJs/YT_NOOkF7JI/AAAAAAAANNU/4ZN5L5iRu50BRHrgpd-xaMAHcvJurGHFQCLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/IMG_8201haul.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yarn haul from <a href="https://chelseayarns.com/" target="_blank">Chelsea Yarns</a></td></tr></tbody></table><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4NCZyyeE24A/YT9Vd0HrC1I/AAAAAAAANMQ/oLEXTxqQhN014hjr6JxI1JkMsYIIMVqlACLcBGAsYHQ/s830/IMG_8164memask.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="828" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4NCZyyeE24A/YT9Vd0HrC1I/AAAAAAAANMQ/oLEXTxqQhN014hjr6JxI1JkMsYIIMVqlACLcBGAsYHQ/w199-h200/IMG_8164memask.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1px;">Even though these fairs are hectic and sometimes impossible to navigate, I still love going. It's yarn. Yarn for for the hobby I love. Yarn and the hobby I love both keep me sane and giddily happy.</span></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.1px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #202124;"></span></div><div><span face="Roboto, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-size: 16px; font-variant-ligatures: none; letter-spacing: 0.1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-48010853452375614532021-09-12T09:55:00.001-04:002021-09-12T12:39:57.203-04:00The Sun, The Water, Loud Jet Skis, Ice Cream and Angry Bees<p><br /></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-f32628f5-7fff-584b-459e-620a144d6a1b"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Friday, September 10, 2021<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;">This afternoon we drove over to Ship Bottom. There is a fishing dock and boat launch just over the last bridge <span> </span><span> </span>onto the island. </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted to have Ross take pictures of me in my new shawl, which I had just finished knitting. I like to post photos of my latest completed projects on instagram. I </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">also thought it would be nice to sit by the water and soak up some sun. It was very breezy.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UHojXm5b3VQ/YT3-RYWE9jI/AAAAAAAANMI/UyA0JQXu5joJA-KVeE4kxUz9XpAyEOMGACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_8162shipbottomdock.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="388" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UHojXm5b3VQ/YT3-RYWE9jI/AAAAAAAANMI/UyA0JQXu5joJA-KVeE4kxUz9XpAyEOMGACLcBGAsYHQ/w242-h400/IMG_8162shipbottomdock.jpg" width="242" /></a></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ipcX_2237CA/YT38pjbbqfI/AAAAAAAANMA/1r6ortDHDC4OJ9jawTrU79RrHsU5a4yOgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_8118shawl.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ipcX_2237CA/YT38pjbbqfI/AAAAAAAANMA/1r6ortDHDC4OJ9jawTrU79RrHsU5a4yOgCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_8118shawl.jpg" width="300" /></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; text-align: center;">There was a man and woman in the parking lot with two jet skis loaded in the back of their pickup. They were trying to fix one of them. They kept revving the motor which produced a lot of smoke and loud engine noises. </span></span></p><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4cSDWMdUmXQ/YT38SpB8HWI/AAAAAAAANL4/Np0wbGrOJjI4F6dgpPSYdBfgTM4u3mUtQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1337/IMG_8163clouds.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1337" data-original-width="828" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4cSDWMdUmXQ/YT38SpB8HWI/AAAAAAAANL4/Np0wbGrOJjI4F6dgpPSYdBfgTM4u3mUtQCLcBGAsYHQ/w248-h400/IMG_8163clouds.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>It was a gorgeous day. Puffy white clouds floated around in the blue blue sky. The sun light played on the water creating sparkling bouncing jewels.<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br style="font-size: 14.6667px;" /></span>Even though it wasn't very peaceful, because of the loud noises coming from the broken jet ski, I could have stayed a little longer. But Ross had had enough and i t was time to go. <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>A new ice cream store/stand opened up near us in Barnegat on Route 9 north. It's across the street from the local animal hospital, which is my point of reference for finding the new ice cream store.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RVD5m-7gpuw/YT3yKtxcOrI/AAAAAAAANKw/xLpiGK4K4rMlJqyYKFwQn0L4vUIGVz9bACLcBGAsYHQ/s1298/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-09-12%2Bat%2B8.22.01%2BAM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="1298" height="119" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RVD5m-7gpuw/YT3yKtxcOrI/AAAAAAAANKw/xLpiGK4K4rMlJqyYKFwQn0L4vUIGVz9bACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h119/Screen%2BShot%2B2021-09-12%2Bat%2B8.22.01%2BAM.png" width="400" /></a></div></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went there after we left the island.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They have an outside terrace with umbrellaed picnic tables. We usually sit and eat our ice cream right there. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sa5lT14oODA/YT3ybpRIMgI/AAAAAAAANK4/K2W-clPl8s4G1z9p-kf1Wr17jOdxgVAfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1028/icecreambarnegat.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1028" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sa5lT14oODA/YT3ybpRIMgI/AAAAAAAANK4/K2W-clPl8s4G1z9p-kf1Wr17jOdxgVAfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/icecreambarnegat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Since it's right on a busy highway, it's not very scenic or quiet but they have really good soft serve. We like the vanilla in a plain old fashioned sugar cone. It's delicious.<p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, though, the terrace was loaded with bees. Yellow jackets. This is the time of year for those bees to become aggressive.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">According to the google machine, "Yellow jackets are hand-to-mouth feeders for existence, particularly in the fall after the queen stops laying eggs and there's no young to feed. When the weather turns colder, food sources disappear and they begin to starve. Starvation makes them angry and aggressive as they work hard to seek food."</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because of those hungry, angry bees, we had to get our ice cream to go. Since it was a fairly warm afternoon, we couldn't get the soft serve. It would have melted before we got home. We got the hand dipped hard ice cream in a cup instead. Two scoops of bing cherry for me and two scoops of butter pecan for Ross.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I told Ross that the ice cream was dinner for tonight. I really didn't feel like preparing anything. He seemed okay with that until later in the evening. I heard him foraging in the refrigerator and cabinets. I heated up a portion of eggplant parm for him and a piece of chicken for me. I guess it wound up to be that we switched it up and just had our desert before dinner. The benefit of adulthood, right?</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-2526102631611298252021-09-09T10:35:00.000-04:002021-09-09T10:35:45.990-04:00A Caregiver's Dance.<p>September 9, 2021</p><p>A dreary rainy Thursday. I'm tired. I don't admit that often. Perhaps it's the weather. Perhaps it's the anticipation of seasonal change going from long summer days to short winter ones. </p><p>Regarding my caregiver situation, many of the comments I receive from friends, family, and internet buddies are some variation of this one, "I don't know how you do it". </p><p>My answer, said with a wry smile, is usually some form of this one, "I don't think about it, I just do. " </p><p>Sort of like Nike, you know, I "Just do it!" </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e2GI1jXbk3U/YToJVGSIU6I/AAAAAAAANKA/AgkbyxJ-VlYWaCLKB1qi94EA-_YUr_97QCLcBGAsYHQ/s254/tango.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="254" height="198" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e2GI1jXbk3U/YToJVGSIU6I/AAAAAAAANKA/AgkbyxJ-VlYWaCLKB1qi94EA-_YUr_97QCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/tango.png" width="254" /></a></div>To be honest, there are woeful thoughts which lay low in the recesses of a dark and smokey tango parlor that is my mind. Like seductive dancers bumping up against each other they spin and twirl until I am dizzy with dread. <p></p><p>I instinctively know I would not survive if I surrendered my emotions to lamenting lyrics which tell tales of the nostalgic musings of unfulfilled dreams. <br /></p><p>So like a simple six step Waltz, </p><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">I Step back with my right foot. ...</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br /><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Move to my left. ...</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br /><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Close my right foot to my left foot. ...</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br /><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Step forward with my left foot. ...</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br /><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Move back and to my right. ...</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Close my left foot to my right foot...</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">and just keep moving. </span><div><span style="color: #202124; font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36);"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-52HnuLg38Ws/YToJscQzX3I/AAAAAAAANKI/8r-vgw2wJyQ6njRDAL1o_vr3n3xK8u9NwCLcBGAsYHQ/s232/waltz2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="217" height="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-52HnuLg38Ws/YToJscQzX3I/AAAAAAAANKI/8r-vgw2wJyQ6njRDAL1o_vr3n3xK8u9NwCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/waltz2.jpeg" width="217" /></a></div><br /></span><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-70992256239191776822021-06-27T07:39:00.017-04:002021-06-27T18:46:06.883-04:00Our 2021 Ocean City, New Jersey Vacation Part I<p> Sunday, June 27, 2021</p><p><br /></p><p>We are away. Not that far away, but at least it's a change of scenery. </p><p>Our family has been vacationing in Ocean City New Jersey for at least the past 10 years. Ocean City is on the Jersey shore and is a 45 minute drive from our house, which, by the way is also on the Jersey Shore.</p><p>But, like I said, it's a change of scenery. For instance I can look out the front door of the cottage that we have rented and see the beach. Can't do that at home. </p><p>In 2019 and 2020 health issues and Covid put a hold on an OC vacation for Ross and me. </p><p>But, the kids have carried on with the tradition and haven't missed one summer. It's always the same week, this week. The last week in June. </p><p>This year, at the last minute, I decided I might take a chance on an OC vacation. I have to say I was quite hesitant. I wasn't sure how Ross would react to being in a different house and a different routine. But, I truly have missed spending that special time with my family. </p><p>Anyway, I figured it's only 45 minutes away from home. If we have to leave, it won't be a big deal. </p><p>In the past, Ross and I shared a lot of the preparation for this vacation. Together, we would come down here some time in March to look at places to rent. </p><p>This year, I "shopped" online and took a chance on a house that I had not seen in person. Luckily, the place is clean, vintage cottage cute and a block from the beach. </p><p>The kids are staying a few blocks from us.</p><p>In the past, Ross would take care of the practical things, like making sure the the mail and newspapers were put on hold. He'd let our neighbors know we would be away, and ask one of them to put our garbage out on Tuesday. </p><p>This year, I took care of the mail, and we no longer get a daily newspaper. I forgot to let the neighbors know we weren't going to be around for a week. </p><p>He would do any last minute grocery shopping. He'd check to ensure that we had new sun tan lotion, bug spray and aloe. He'd make sure the car was in tip top condition and would gas up the car.</p><p>This year I did all of the grocery shopping, and found some sun tan lotion from last year. I'm sure the car is fine and we do have a full tank. </p><p>Ross would spend weeks prior to the vacation, thinking about what he was going to bring. He'd always say, "All I need is two pairs of shorts, a couple of tee shirts, a pair of jeans and a bathing suit." Of course, on packing day the list of items would grow. He'd always throw in extras of everything. </p><p>This year, I packed for Ross. That might seem like a small thing, me packing for him. But Ross was always very particular about not only <i>what </i>he was gong to pack, but <i>how</i> he packed. He was quite the packing expert, making the most of the suite case space. 😊</p><p>The other thing Ross took pride in was packing the car. Before he loaded up the car, he'd study the mound of items we were bringing. And "magically", everything would fit and usually there would be room left over. Oh, and he'd also do all of the carrying and lugging.</p><p>This year I think I managed to bring everything Ross might need. And I guess I actually learned a thing or two from him about packing, suitcase and car, because everything fit just fine. I have to say, doing all the carrying, lugging and packing is exhausting. </p><p>Of course, Ross no longer drives. I really miss being a passenger. I never really enjoyed driving. But, I have gained experience and understand just how tiring driving can be. </p><p>So, we got here yesterday. We picked up the key from the realtor and found the house. I tried to unlock the back door and the key wouldn't work. I went around to the front door and couldn't get that one to work either. </p><p>In the past, no matter how rusted or weather worn the lock was, Ross would always, always manage to get the key to work. He'd patiently jiggle and move the key this way and that and "magically" the door would unlock. </p><p>After a few impatient attempts, I called the realtor. He said he'd be right over to help. After impatiently waiting, I tried Ross' jiggle method and managed to unlock the door. </p><p>I did all of the unloading of the car, unpacking and putting away. And in between I made lunch. My back ached terribly and I didn't realize how tired I was until I finally got to sit down for a moment. </p><p>As I sat, looking out the front window, (did I mention we can see the beach?) I silently, had a bit of a melt down. I thought about how much I missed my vacation partner. More importantly, though, I thought about how much I took for granted and now appreciate all of the little things he did. </p><p>Last night, the kids came over for a visit. When they walked in, Ross' face just lit up. Mine too 😀</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s_WCvYXhdZc/YNhlFuc3CnI/AAAAAAAANCc/UymlSb5_j0gXt5Flly5B1McXhhw9pInBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1586/IMG_7503.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1586" data-original-width="1190" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s_WCvYXhdZc/YNhlFuc3CnI/AAAAAAAANCc/UymlSb5_j0gXt5Flly5B1McXhhw9pInBgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_7503.jpg" /></a></div>After the kids left Ross and I took a walk to the beach. It's magnificent! Nothing like the Jersey shore. <p></p><p>I don't know what the rest of the week is going to be like. There may be difficult moments. </p><p>But I promise, I'm gong to appreciate all of the little things Ross and I can still do together. </p><p> <br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-28473208184059036202021-04-28T09:30:00.003-04:002021-04-28T10:04:56.329-04:00Only One of a Many Caregiver's Stories <p>April 28, 2021</p><p>It's a Wednesday.</p><p>Writing provides a satisfying and gratifying way for me to take a deep explorative dive into the depths of all of me. I generally start out with a glimmer of an idea and soon find myself curiously wandering in and out of the nooks and crannies that make up my being. I like looking around, seeing what's there. I have become familiar with some of the paths I find myself on, but there is always more to discover. </p><p>Lately a path I have been distressfully visiting way too often is dark and cold and colorless with boulders of angry criticism blocking the light. I don't like it there. But it's there, and stubbornly refuses to be ignored.</p><p>These days I don't often have the luxury of the alone time I need to totally absorb myself in my writing. </p><p>For instance, right now, this very moment, I am distracted with the anticipation that my trance will be interrupted. Thoughts of the morning tasks that caregiving requires are begging for attention. </p><p>I expect that I soon will be called upon to help selecting the appropriate clothing for the day. </p><p>I hear my name being called from the bedroom. "Lynda". I think to myself, it's a sweet sound, really. </p><p>He comes out of the bedroom, walks over to me, and bends down for a kiss.</p><p>And he brings with him the light. </p><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-22825662326276529482021-03-30T09:26:00.003-04:002021-03-30T09:26:58.995-04:00My Memory Blanket <p> Today is going to be a beauty of a brisk bright blue, not a cloud in the sky, spring day. </p><p>It's Tuesday, and like every other Tuesday, the low guttural noises of a motor and high pitched squeaks of brakes coming from a garbage truck woke me. </p><p>We used to live next to an elementary school. A convoy of school buses would pass by our house early morning and late afternoon. The not so melodious refrain coming from the buses is nearly the same as our Tuesday garbage truck. </p><p>Sometimes, the Tuesday garbage truck noise tricks my not quite awake brain back into a time warp of long ago. Before I am fully awake, as I lie in bed, swirling memories of kid shouts and giggles chase each other around in my head. </p><p>I hear my own voice calling to <i>my</i> children, "Come on now, hurry, hurry, or you will miss the bus." Of course that was the first warning. The second, third and hopefully not too often, the fourth call would probably not have been as gentle. </p><p>There are no school buses in my neighborhood. Just us old folks, no kids allowed. Most times I like the peacefulness and the quiet of the mostly empty streets. </p><p>But this morning, like my worn, but still warm, flannel sheets, the thoughts of little kids and school buses are fuzzy but cozy and I want to linger just a little longer under my memory blanket. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dds3c6YVUU/YGMnFr4A-OI/AAAAAAAAM9k/d-mEEOiAAlYixMYAs6xI7nvO2I5ruzFpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_6833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3dds3c6YVUU/YGMnFr4A-OI/AAAAAAAAM9k/d-mEEOiAAlYixMYAs6xI7nvO2I5ruzFpgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_6833.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-81362310814418962402021-03-06T10:25:00.005-05:002021-03-06T10:28:13.754-05:00My Red Ceramic Mug, The One From Starbucks<p> Saturday, March 6, 2021</p><div class="RjReFf jY7QFf" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 28px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; min-height: 36px;"><div class="DgZBFd XcVN5d frCXef" style="font-family: "Google Sans", arial, sans-serif; font-size: 36px; line-height: 36px; vertical-align: top;"><span data-dobid="hdw">strong</span></div></div><div class="S23sjd g30o5d" style="background-color: white; color: #70757a; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; padding-top: 10px;">/strôNG/</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">1</span>.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-left: 20px;"><div class="L1jWkf h3TRxf" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;"><i>having the power to move heavy weights or perform other physically demanding tasks.</i></div></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">2</span>.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-left: 20px;"><div class="L1jWkf h3TRxf" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;"><i>able to withstand great force or pressure</i>.</div></div></div><p>In my life, during particularly difficult times, I've been told by well meaning family, friends and even mere acquaintances to "be strong" or "stay strong" or "you are stronger than you think."</p><p>Ironically, hearing those "supportive" phrases during the hardest of times, usually makes me feel quite the opposite. </p><p>Today is one of those days where I feel quite the opposite. Today, I will acknowledge that I am tired. All the way around tired. Physically, emotionally, intellectually, sleep deprived, just plain tired. </p><p>Why is today a day for this admission? I mean it's been a year of tough, tiring days, right?</p><p>We, billions of people are tired, right? </p><p>The whole world is being told to "hang in there", "be strong". </p><p>Unplanned and without much thought, we, Ross and I, (mostly me, Ross is having a harder time) have fallen into a routine which may be our (my) way of coping. Probably having a routine has created some kind of normalcy, for me, at least. </p><p>There are designated days for laundry, food shopping and house cleaning. On a daily basis we basically do the same things at the same time each day. The days have turned into weeks and months and now a year. </p><p>My mornings are my "me" time. I usually get up an hour or two before Ross. I come into the kitchen, turn on the light and open the blinds. I fill my tea pot with water. While I wait for the water to boil, I cross off the previous day on the calendar, write the new date on the white board and empty the dishwasher. </p><p>Then I usually take my tea into the living room, turn on the news, scroll through my phone and just sit and sip for a few quiet moments.</p><p>When I hear Ross start to stir, I know the day is off to its usual start, breakfast, straightening, running whatever errands there are to be done, lunch, straightening, TV, dinner, straightening, maybe a Facetime or phone call, TV, then bed. Of course, knitting has its place throughout the day. </p><p>Our life is simple, I suppose. We are comfortable. I am truly grateful for the ability to have food in the fridge and pantry. </p><p>We have our challenges, though and life isn't fair. There are the days when I need to step outside, in my stocking feet, onto the hard concrete front porch and feel the shock of icy cold all the way up from my toes to my face. </p><div class="RjReFf jY7QFf" style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 28px; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; min-height: 36px;"><div class="DgZBFd XcVN5d frCXef" style="font-family: "Google Sans", arial, sans-serif; font-size: 36px; line-height: 36px; vertical-align: top;"><span data-dobid="hdw">weak</span></div></div><div class="S23sjd g30o5d" style="background-color: white; color: #70757a; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; padding-top: 10px;">/wēk/</div><div class="S23sjd g30o5d" style="background-color: white; color: #70757a; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; padding-top: 10px;"><div style="color: #202124; font-size: small; margin-left: 20px;"><div class="L1jWkf h3TRxf" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;"><div style="float: left; font-size: small;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">1</span>.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-left: 20px;"><div class="L1jWkf h3TRxf" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;"><i>lacking the power to perform physically demanding tasks; lacking physical strength and energy.</i></div></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; float: left; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">2</span>.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #202124; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-left: 20px;"><div class="L1jWkf h3TRxf" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="display: inline;"><i>liable to break or give way under pressure; easily dam</i>aged.</div></div></div><p>Today, I poured the boiling water into my favorite mug. It's the red ceramic one from Starbucks with the lid to keep my tea nice and hot. And as per my usual routine, I headed into the living room to settle into my comfy chair. It's the big oversize leather with the matching foot stool. </p><p>On my way to the chair, I noticed drops of water on the floor. I also noticed that my hand was wet beneath the mug. Condensation? </p><p>I took the mug back into the kitchen, set it down on a paper towel while I wiped up the drops on the floor. When I went back into the kitchen to get my tea, the paper towel was wet. My favorite red ceramic mug, the one from Starbucks was leaking. </p><p>And just like that, my routine, like the red ceramic mug, my favorite one, the one from Starbucks, had been broken. <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBfcntosQ9g/YEObRT8zOTI/AAAAAAAAM8c/JkReziIOZg8yMalpwLKSC-9QEsLTCIz8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/mugshot.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="183" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBfcntosQ9g/YEObRT8zOTI/AAAAAAAAM8c/JkReziIOZg8yMalpwLKSC-9QEsLTCIz8ACLcBGAsYHQ/w137-h183/mugshot.jpg" width="137" /></a></div><p></p><p>Perhaps that's what made today a culmination of all those particularly difficult times, the hardest of the hard. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">It made today, the kind of day where I long for a moment, please, to lay down the heavy weight, and give way to the pressure. </p></blockquote><p>The kind of day where for a moment, please, I need to crawl into myself, pull the softness all the way up over my whole being, and rest in my cocoon.</p>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-4206704706205732032020-09-20T09:09:00.008-04:002020-09-20T09:25:18.276-04:00A Hopeful Couple of Updates <p> Just a couple of updates:</p><p><br /></p><p>Hah, I didn't realize until I decided to do this update that my last two posts were about future goals. </p><p><i>My future.</i> </p><p>Recently, I haven't thought about my future in any sort of positive way. </p><p>Sure, I admit it, I may be spending way too much time wallowing around somewhere down in the deep dark crevices of gloom and doom. But, apparently, subconsciously, there appears to be, although somewhat dim at times, a light of hope flickering through those crevices. </p><p>The first of my last two posts was about knitting socks. My goal? Knit 100 pairs of socks. </p><p>The update? Since that post I have knit another 5 pairs, which brings the total to 19 pairs.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uz2i9FS35ZI/X2c_ogk0EZI/AAAAAAAAM14/Wcn7_XsfhdIEtkR_qejK6me8BJSg7aW4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/Blank%2B2000%2Bx%2B2000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uz2i9FS35ZI/X2c_ogk0EZI/AAAAAAAAM14/Wcn7_XsfhdIEtkR_qejK6me8BJSg7aW4gCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/Blank%2B2000%2Bx%2B2000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>One of the pairs was specially custom made for Ross. Can you guess which one?<div><br /></div><div>I have been knitting on other things in between. Or I should say I have <i>started</i> several other projects. That's what I like about these little socks. Once I cast on a pair I seem to be driven to finish them. It's the goal thing. I'm convinced of that. <p>The second of my last two posts was written two weeks ago on September 6. It was about a "weight loss" journey I have set upon. In that post I talked about how I had begun to walk 20-30 minutes a day, six days a week. </p><p>At the time I figured that's all I would need to do to loose the LB's. But, as I soon found out, walking wasn't going to be enough.</p><p>Last week I added an eating plan to the goal. I started out using the "My Fitness Pal" app. It's a great app. But, it didn't seem to be working for me. My daughter recently started using the WW (weight watchers) app. She said she liked it. I signed up a few days ago. For now, I do like it better than "My Fitness Pal". For the record, I have lost 3 pounds. </p><p>I'm still walking. And now I have Ross walking with me. I walk a bit faster than he does, so I walk ahead of him, turn around walk back to him, and then walk ahead of him again. Sometimes he takes a little rest. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iPYmHL9EEFs/X2dGX_trG5I/AAAAAAAAM2E/x9irlAu2LSANPsglOWqoGPtJhWwl8jtcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1218/IMG_1121.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iPYmHL9EEFs/X2dGX_trG5I/AAAAAAAAM2E/x9irlAu2LSANPsglOWqoGPtJhWwl8jtcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_1121.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p>While I was writing this post the phrase "Hope Springs Eternal" came to mind. It seemed appropriate to use that somewhere in this post. I decided to research the origin of the phrase before I included it. I wanted to make sure I was using it correctly. </p><p>The phrase is taken from "<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44899/an-essay-on-man-epistle-i" target="_blank">An Essay on Man: Epistle I" by Alexander Pope</a>. written in 1733. </p><p>I had never read it and I found it quite powerful. I will re-read it again and again. </p><p>Here is the section containing the "Hope Springs Eternal" phrase:</p></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">"Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore!</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Hope springs eternal in the human breast:</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Man never is, but always to be blest:</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div><p class="p1" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Rests and expatiates in a life to come."</p></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p> My interpretation of his meaning is that it is the hope of an eternal life to come which enables us to endure through <i>this</i> life. What do you think?</p><p>My hope to complete rather less lofty goals seem to be quite attainable here on this earth and in this life. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61Oj72085YA/X2dTEEQnm6I/AAAAAAAAM2Q/1MVauXiRJPIvccoWT-ygSHeFmPoW7Ll4ACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_3973.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61Oj72085YA/X2dTEEQnm6I/AAAAAAAAM2Q/1MVauXiRJPIvccoWT-ygSHeFmPoW7Ll4ACLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_3973.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Links to my last two posts are here:</p><p><a href="https://www.lganhouraway.com/2020/08/100-pairs-of-shorties-hopeful.html" target="_blank">"100 Pairs of Shorties"</a></p><p><a href="https://www.lganhouraway.com/2020/09/cheer-me-on.html" target="_blank">Cheer Me On</a></p><div><div class="c-feature-bd" style="border: 0px; font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; font-size: 1.25rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="o-poem isActive" data-view="PoemView" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="o-vr o-vr_6x" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 30px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="c-epigraph" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1.25rem; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 24px; vertical-align: baseline;"><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 24px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></p></div></div></div></div></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-7334630438348428792020-09-06T11:04:00.001-04:002020-09-06T11:05:06.655-04:00Cheer Me On! <div class="separator">
</div>
Oh boy! For the past few months, I intentionally haven't been weighing myself. You know how even if you don't get on the scale you just know that if you did, you wouldn't be surprised?<br />
It's not even a matter of my clothes not fitting the same, I <i>feel </i>the extra heavy I've been lugging around.<br />
I wondered if the weight of the world's problems along with my own personal woes, had somehow slowed down my metabolism. Of course it couldn't be my past six month couch potato-ness or the nightly snack of cookies, ice cream or pie, could it? I have a sneaky suspicion that it's combination of it all sprinkled with a dusting of depression.<br />
<br />
Yeah, so last week I did step on the scale. And yeah, I wasn't shocked.<br />
<br />
But what to do about it.<br />
<br />
I thought, I know I will start a blog series on how I'm going to cut the heavy loose. I'm tired of carrying it around. It's exhausting.<br />
I know what you're thinking. "Oh no not another blogger thinking their public forum space will be a great incentive to stay honest and on track. Ha! Like that ever works. Usually, the series just fades away somewhere between gung-ho and giving up." That's what you're thinking, isn't it?<br />
<br />
I'll pretend I didn't hear that.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5XCwXwensZ0/X1T6BgfbAmI/AAAAAAAAM1A/YKYbjehdzi4lL3pT3XChqlIvU3pkybMngCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/blogAIMG_3820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5XCwXwensZ0/X1T6BgfbAmI/AAAAAAAAM1A/YKYbjehdzi4lL3pT3XChqlIvU3pkybMngCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/blogAIMG_3820.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
So, this week I walked 6 of the 7 days. I'm taking today off. It's Sunday.<br />
I'm starting off slow, walking about a 20 minute mile, and walking an average distance of about an extra 1.5 miles a day.<br />
My muscles ache and I haven't lost an ounce. However, I'm still at the gung-ho stage and not ready to give up.<br />
<br />
Cheer me on. It might help to stretch out the "I'm Going To Lose Weight, You'll See" series for at least another week.<br />
<br />
Thanks <br />
😀<br />
<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-90929509481410364152020-08-02T10:58:00.004-04:002020-08-02T11:42:13.804-04:00100 Pairs of Shorties - A Hopeful Attainable Goal 100 Pairs of Shorties<div><br /></div><div></div><div>When word of the first case of Covid19 was announced in the USA, I subconsciously, I suppose, instinctively understood that we were in for a long and difficult road ahead. </div><div><br /></div><div>Coincidentally I started a long term project about the same time as the Covid19 lockdown happened. Yes, I believe the idea came to me around the middle of March.</div><div><br /></div><div>It seemed to be an outrageous goal and hardly obtainable. In fact, at first, it was an idle, off-the-cuff musing. </div><div><br /></div><div>When the first of my project was completed I posted a pic of it on Instagram with what has since become the beginning of a goal noted by the hashtag #100pairofshorties. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JHpqceF7ngI/XybKfuQggGI/AAAAAAAAMuI/iaOigOoVek0X6j1rVfuU5XS2ldt5OO1ngCLcBGAsYHQ/s1958/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-02%2Bat%2B10.13.43%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1958" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JHpqceF7ngI/XybKfuQggGI/AAAAAAAAMuI/iaOigOoVek0X6j1rVfuU5XS2ldt5OO1ngCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-02%2Bat%2B10.13.43%2BAM.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What is a shortie? A shortie is another name for an ankle sock. Ankle socks may also be known as:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tg62hFN8S_4/XybLyXdMVxI/AAAAAAAAMuU/WpnnuIkmG3QKd0mUGYuXlVFzoJoU1wi5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s504/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-02%2Bat%2B10.19.51%2BAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="504" height="222" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tg62hFN8S_4/XybLyXdMVxI/AAAAAAAAMuU/WpnnuIkmG3QKd0mUGYuXlVFzoJoU1wi5ACLcBGAsYHQ/w320-h222/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-08-02%2Bat%2B10.19.51%2BAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>These shorties are hand knit socks. Hand knit by me. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is something soothing and purposeful about knitting these little socks. For one thing I can start and finish a pair in less than one week. Secondly, they only use a small amount of yarn. That's a good thing because I have an ample amount of small amounts of yarn. </div><div><br /></div><div>Besides my obvious love of knitting I have found the most meaningful benefit of creating each pair is mindfully and at the same time mindlessly working towards attaining the goal of knitting 100 pairs.</div><div><br /></div><div>This may sound strange to some, especially non-creators, and more especially non-knitters, but for me it's an exciting project. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why exciting? Because as with any goal, it requires a belief in a future time. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I think about that future time when I have attained my #100pairofshorties goal I think of a hopeful time, a peaceful time, a time when I can safely visit friends and loved ones with perhaps a handknit gift to give. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you want to follow my progress click on this link <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/100pairofshorties/">https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/100pairofshorties/</a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18aIiXDhNDY/XybT1sU91tI/AAAAAAAAMuo/WaFWgtydHs8ZnyUK9yPfu72IoOEe4J8TwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1792/IMG_3351.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1792" data-original-width="828" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-18aIiXDhNDY/XybT1sU91tI/AAAAAAAAMuo/WaFWgtydHs8ZnyUK9yPfu72IoOEe4J8TwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_3351.PNG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-33520764152850778072020-07-11T07:54:00.000-04:002020-07-11T07:54:43.359-04:00What's Painfully Missing July 11, 2020<br />
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I would imagine that the year 2020 will certainly be one for the history books.<br />
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A pandemic, toilet paper hoarding, millions of people out of work and most recently massive protests in the world about racial injustices have lead the headlines for nearly six months now.<br />
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This is also a presidential election year in the US. The current president, Donald Trump will be running against Joe Biden. Because of the Covid19 virus, this campaign will be the most unusual in modern history. <br />
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The specific details of all of these things will most certainly be well documented, therefore I don't find it necessary to do that here.<br />
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What I can write about is how Ross and I have been coping.<br />
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We have experienced the personal loss and scary illnesses of loved ones. Those have been tough.<br />
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Sitting here now, today, reflecting on the last six months, I would have to say, overall, we have managed well. The most important thing is that we have not gotten ill. Fingers crossed that we continue in good health. I am still frightened about getting this virus. I am especially concerned about me getting it because I need to be healthy for Ross.<br />
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One of the observances I have found most interesting is how we were able to adapt to this new small world we find ourselves in and how quickly we established a new routine.<br />
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We do miss having a meal out, which we would do a couple of times a week.<br />
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There have been times of depression, and upset. We've been getting help with that.<br />
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At the start of the world seemingly ready to fall apart, Ross and I were glued to the TV, watching wall to wall coverage. That has changed. We find other things to do instead. For instance, sitting on our front porch, listening to the birds, watching the squirrels and rabbits scamper about is quite peaceful.<br />
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We've managed to see the ocean a couple of times and frequently ride by the Barnegat bay. Seeing the water soothes our souls.<br />
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Every day we walk up to the corner and back. (inside joke)<br />
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Up until a few weeks ago we had been ordering our groceries online. Someone from the store wold bring the packages out to our car. That is a great service. <br />
But now we are venturing out into the stores. I am a little skittish about it, but try to be as careful as possible.<br />
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Facetime and phone calls have kept us somewhat connected.<br />
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New Jersey has been one of the hardest hit with the Corona Virus.<br />
Now, restrictions are slowly being lifted.<br />
As of yesterday, with safety measures in place, such as social distancing and mask wearing, restaurants can serve, via outdoor dining. Retail stores are open bound by limited capacity.<br />
Next week hair salons and barber shops will open.<br />
Yay! Today, the wonderful women who clean our home are back. So grateful for them.<br />
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But spectacular sparkling bays and blue ocean waves, melodious bird songs, cute bunnies and funny scampering squirrels and hundreds of miles walked to the corner and back pale in comparison to the hugs and kisses we are painfully missing.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqlboSvO4jI/XwmoCn6N_pI/AAAAAAAAMtY/9hOZ02szydoRWO3WoqvMMflvEm5nEkZaACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/2018OCporchA.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="481" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqlboSvO4jI/XwmoCn6N_pI/AAAAAAAAMtY/9hOZ02szydoRWO3WoqvMMflvEm5nEkZaACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/2018OCporchA.JPEG" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A treasured past summer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-56288814113147225152020-04-26T08:20:00.001-04:002020-04-26T08:22:13.450-04:00How We're Doing April 25, 2020<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AFPu04Ws8Cg/XqV0RGFERXI/AAAAAAAAMqM/jDDrYnnMG1ICmkHozUpOnWBuKtLvpo_hgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-04-26%2Bat%2B7.43.17%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1582" data-original-width="918" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AFPu04Ws8Cg/XqV0RGFERXI/AAAAAAAAMqM/jDDrYnnMG1ICmkHozUpOnWBuKtLvpo_hgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-04-26%2Bat%2B7.43.17%2BAM.png" width="185" /></a>The last time we were in a store was nearly a month ago. It was a trip to Shoprite. We went on March 27.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RSdQxAAPUg/XqV1FvbxmiI/AAAAAAAAMqU/DJYaMaoZJfs92z-UA36LE5d6OgMV_oOrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-04-26%2Bat%2B7.47.52%2BAM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="885" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8RSdQxAAPUg/XqV1FvbxmiI/AAAAAAAAMqU/DJYaMaoZJfs92z-UA36LE5d6OgMV_oOrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2020-04-26%2Bat%2B7.47.52%2BAM.png" width="176" /></a><br />
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Since then my daughter and son-in-law (they insisted) have been delivering groceries to us and in-between we have been doing pick-up's at our local butcher/deli shop.<br />
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The staying-in part of the Coronavirus pandemic has not driven me to the edge, yet. Perhaps it's the introvert in me. I <i>can</i> be with myself. <br />
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I've been doing a lot of knitting and crocheting.</div>
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Don't get me wrong, I am grateful to have Ross here with me.<br />
When I think about those who don't have someone with them, I wonder how it would be for me, if I were alone. It's a scary thought.<br />
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What does get to me is the roller coaster emotional part of this. It angers me. It frightens me. But mostly it saddens my heart.<br />
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Whenever I have faced tragedy in my life, I question the "why" of it. Why tragedy and sadness and loneliness and sickness and even death. Why? It seems so evil.<br />
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<i>This</i> tragedy will not soon be forgotten. It will be the one written about for ages. We will remind the youngest, who may not have understood. We will tell stories to the not yet born all about it. For the rest of our lives, we will commiserate with each other and shake our puzzled heads.<br />
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And I will always wonder "why?"</div>
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<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-45211390358742571982020-02-24T12:25:00.001-05:002020-02-24T12:25:04.130-05:00Evie She was the type of person who turned heads when she entered a room. She had a sweet look about her, approachable, you know. Her shiny dark hair grazed her shoulders and the curly ends bounced when she turned her head. <br />
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Although it was a somber occasion for which we were all gathered, she had the unique ability to soften the tenseness in the room as well as the face of every person she interacted with.<br />
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I was seated in the back, an observer. Her voice was soft and melodic. I watched and listened as she made her way, stopping to say hello to those she knew, introducing herself to those she was meeting for the first time. I saw that each person leaned in towards her when she spoke and I thought about her unique ability to persuade such consideration. <br />
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She took her rightful place at the front, her back to me now, I felt her stillness as she quietly listened.<br />
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I had the opportunity to finally and properly meet her the next day. It was a brisk wintery day. She had been out for a walk. When she came in, she was breathless and her face was rosy.<br />
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As she shed her coat, scarf and hat, she called out greetings to everyone. <br />
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She made her way over to me. <br />
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She didn't ask my name, but I must have seemed familiar to her.<br />
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"Hi," she said, with a smile. <br />
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She told me that she had been on a treasure hunt on the path through the wooded area out back.<br />
Standing in front of me now, her arms were at her side, her hands were tightly clutched. <br />
"I found two of these," she said with a giggle. <br />
She raised both hands out towards me and slowly opened each one.<br />
"Aren't they beautiful," she asked?<br />
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"This one is special, it's my favorite and I would like you to have it." she said.<br />
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She placed an oddly shaped stone in my palm. It felt icy cold in my hand. <br />
I thanked her and told her I would always keep and treasure this treasure she gave me.<br />
She smiled when I said that.<br />
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It was now time for me to leave. I had a long ride ahead of me. I said my goodbyes, and gave her a little hug. <br />
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As I walked out to the car with my hands in my pockets I knew I would never see her again. I squeezed the cold stone tightly and it gave a bit of relief to my aging joints and comfort from a sad weekend.<br />
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<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-63837288537959604922020-02-11T08:34:00.001-05:002020-02-11T09:51:34.920-05:00Life is a HighwayFebruary 11, 2020<br />
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Boy, January was a long month. The winter weather here in Barnegat, New Jersey is quite dreary. So far this year we have not had any snow or arctic cold blasts. The temperatures have been averaging in the high 40's and 50's with quite a few gray and rainy days. As I said dreary.<br />
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What we've been up to.<br />
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I helped Ross create a YouTube channel. It's called "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnvEJ6dhlfzopT7jfRLrPCQ/featured" target="_blank">Ross' Snippets and Bits</a>". He has recorded two episodes so far and the response has been favorable.<br />
I would describe the content as a reminiscence journey.<br />
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We both upgraded our iPhones to the 11's. Our old phones were 7's. The new phones were a little challenging to get used to because navigating around them is now all done via touch screen. The physical home button has been replaced with swiping motions. Also the fingerprint ID was replaced with facial recognition.<br />
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Oh, by the way, though, you can still make and receive phones calls with the phone 😀<br />
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I have been doing a lot of driving lately. As someone who was used to being the chauffeured, and not the chauffeur, I have become much more appreciative of what it takes to get behind the wheel.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw5tJyItG0A/XkKgmM_mopI/AAAAAAAAMoo/3Z-UeXHyodEdaHq6YNrgfPL0gP7uqQlNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/route539.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="173" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tw5tJyItG0A/XkKgmM_mopI/AAAAAAAAMoo/3Z-UeXHyodEdaHq6YNrgfPL0gP7uqQlNgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/route539.jpeg" /></a>I consider myself to be a conservative driver. By that I mean I obey the rules of the road. And by that I mean I drive the speed limit. I have discovered that most people don't. I find cars either whizzing by me or on my tail. It's as if they are challenging me to a race or strongly urging me to get out of the way.<br />
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We frequently travel on a road which is a two lane highway. The speed limit is 55 MPH.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">County Route 539</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, abbreviated </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">CR 539</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, is a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_routes_in_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="County routes in New Jersey">county highway</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> in the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._state" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="U.S. state">U.S. state</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> of </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="New Jersey">New Jersey</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. The highway extends 54.32 miles (87.42 km) from Main Street (</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Route_9_in_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="U.S. Route 9 in New Jersey">U.S. Route 9</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> or US 9) in </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuckerton,_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Tuckerton, New Jersey">Tuckerton</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> to </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/County_Route_535_(New_Jersey)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="County Route 535 (New Jersey)">CR 535</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> in </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cranbury_Township,_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Cranbury Township, New Jersey">Cranbury Township</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. Much of the two-lane route passes through isolated areas of the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pine_Barrens_(New_Jersey)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Pine Barrens (New Jersey)">Pine Barrens</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joint_Base_McGuire%E2%80%93Dix%E2%80%93Lakehurst" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Joint Base McGuire–Dix–Lakehurst">Joint Base McGuire–Dix–Lakehurst</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. In these stretches, the route has a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speed_limit" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Speed limit">speed limit</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> of 55 miles per hour (89 km/h), one of the few two-lane roads in the state to carry a 55 mph limit. CR 539 </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> through three </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borough_(New_Jersey)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Borough (New Jersey)">boroughs</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">: Tuckerton, </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allentown,_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Allentown, New Jersey">Allentown</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">, and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hightstown,_New_Jersey" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Hightstown, New Jersey">Hightstown</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">. Other than those boroughs, the route travels mainly through rural </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Township_(New_Jersey)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Township (New Jersey)">townships</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">.</span></i></blockquote>
There usually is not a lot of traffic on this road, but because it is a two-laner, whatever traffic there is tends to become parades of clumps of perhaps a dozen cars, each one behind the other. Although, there are sections of the road where no passing is permitted, a lot of the road does permit alternate lane passing.<br />
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As I previously mentioned, I obey the speed limit, especially on this road. That means on the sections where no passing is permitted, I tend to have a string of cars behind me.<br />
A lot of the time, the car directly behind me, is up on my tail, anxiously waiting to break away as soon as the passing zone comes up.<br />
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I wonder where that person going in such a hurry? I wonder how much time he or she saved by passing me so they can speed up to 10 or 15 miles above the speed limit? I wonder if they will appreciate that precious time they have saved. I hope they will spend it wisely.<br />
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I am totally amused, though when that person passes me, speeds up, comes to a traffic light, has to stop, and finds me right behind them. 😈<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Life's like a road that you travel on</span></i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"></span><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Where there's one day here and the next day gone...</span></i></blockquote>
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<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-52954705934186633022020-01-06T18:18:00.001-05:002020-01-06T18:18:27.976-05:00On A Journey to Other LandsJanuary 6, 2020<br />
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December of 2019 proved to be interesting, busy, challenging at times, and finally smoothing out to a peaceful close.<br />
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The other morning I was distractedly walking from the kitchen, towards the front of the house. Up a good part of the night with worrying about everything, I hadn't gotten much sleep and I was tired. My mind was filled with a never ending to-do list, mentally assigning the hours of my day to this and that. As I came up to the front door, something caught my eye from the side light windows. When I looked more closely, I saw a large bird sitting in our front yard tree. It stopped me in my tracks and my heart began to beat faster.<br />
I began to murmur to myself, "please don't leave, please don't leave."<br />
I hurried into the den to find my camera. My murmuring tune now changed to "please don't let the battery be dead, please don't let the battery be dead."<br />
I breathed a sigh of relief when my camera light turned on.<br />
For the next 10 minutes I was still and quietly absorbed in watching this wondrous creature, snapping a photo when I could.<br />
I'm not sure why the bird chose our tree to land in. Perhaps it was a pit-stop on its way to other lands. I prefer to think that, instead of it being on a breakfast hunt.<br />
I experienced feelings of gratitude for a variety of reasons. It was a privilege to be able to get close enough, albeit behind a window, to spend time with this bird, if only for a brief time. <br />
Along with my worries, all of the nonsense thoughts of making beds, laundry, food shopping and such flew out of my head and landed up in that tree on the wings of that mighty bird. <br />
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During this new year of 2020 when life might get somewhat overwhelming, I hope I will recall the morning I was still and quiet and remember the bird who took my cares and woes away on a journey to other lands.lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-41314993525337659272019-12-05T13:35:00.001-05:002019-12-05T13:35:37.838-05:00A Blessedly Ordinary December FifthIt's that day. Leading up to that day is a life time of days. A life which should have had more time to live many more days.<br />
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I wish I could remember some <i>other</i> December 5th as vividly as I do this one. Perhaps it would be one that came many life time days before.<br />
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It might be just an ordinary day. Maybe a bustling morning. Everyone getting ready for school or work. Joe would be up and dressed, pouring himself a bowl of his favorite cereal.<br />
Jimmy would come into the kitchen and there would be banter between Joe and his brother. "Stop taking my stuff." "I didn't touch your stuff." "Ma, can you make him leave my things alone."<br />
I would be distracted by making lunches, calling for Jen to get up and get ready, thinking about that project at work that was overdue. <br />I would say something like, "Come on you guys, let's get going here." hardly giving either of them a glance. <br />
After work, I would stop at the grocery store on the way home to pick up something for dinner. The meal could have been one of Joe's favorites. Joe would have smiled when he sat down at the table. Joe had the most precious smile. It was a sweet shy smile. <br />
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What if it that long ago December 5th were a Thursday evening and snow was in the forecast. The kids would be all excited hoping for a day off from school and a weekend of snowmobiling.<br />
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The evening would be spent doing what we each would do every other ordinary Thursday evening.<br />
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Watching TV, listening to music, reading, strumming a guitar, yes even crocheting or knitting too.<br />
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On that December 5th I would not have woken up with an overwhelming sadness in my heart. I might not have even remembered what the date was. <br />
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It would have been just a blessedly ordinary December 5th.<br />
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My son Joe passed away on December 5th, 2011 from colon cancer. He was thirty-four years old.<br />
He lived tens of thousands of ordinary days. I am grateful for every one of them.<br />
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</style>lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1078324787471983933.post-37378620243501293372019-11-07T10:36:00.003-05:002019-11-07T10:36:56.979-05:00The Mighty Pine - She Will SurviveOur little round 4 seater kitchen table sits in front of our sunroom window. With chin in hand, through the slats of wooden blinds, the immediate eye level view from my chair is a wicker basket which is attached to the handlebars of my purple beach bike. The handle of a yellow plastic fly swatter sticks out of the basket. Out of the corner of my I catch a glimpse of a brightly colored stripy patio umbrella.<br />
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If I lift my head slightly, my view changes and I immediately become mesmerized by the swaying branches and waving pine needle fingers from the old pine in the back yard. The tree has grown so tall in its 20 year life, that from where I sit I cannot see the top of the tree.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKrKP-gAIvo/XcQ4mtWcN0I/AAAAAAAAMmE/XPJqV7uO6zgJ4GrwJdiUcbvBrkIoqcVYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_3730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IKrKP-gAIvo/XcQ4mtWcN0I/AAAAAAAAMmE/XPJqV7uO6zgJ4GrwJdiUcbvBrkIoqcVYwCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/IMG_3730.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="150" /></a>A few years ago during a winter storm, the branches became so heavy with wet snow that the old girl's trunk began to lean, her roots desperately trying to maintain their deep hold in the wet cold earth.<br />
The next day the storm passed, but temperatures had plummeted. The skies were brilliantly cold blue. The heavy wet clumps, still clinging to branches, had become icy crystals.<br />
The high noon sun was warm enough to coax the snow off the branches, causing them to plop to the ground, sending showers of crystals up into the air like sprays from a fountain.<br />
As her load began to lighten, the old girl tried to straighten her spine, urging her roots to pull her up.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YL3sSs_T2mA/XcQ0vVKCQKI/AAAAAAAAMl0/dHTj84Vhz-ceSwn9kkjlPceEXGEu4z0SgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_5811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YL3sSs_T2mA/XcQ0vVKCQKI/AAAAAAAAMl0/dHTj84Vhz-ceSwn9kkjlPceEXGEu4z0SgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_5811.jpg" width="320" /></a>I watched this unfold from my window seat and I could almost hear her majesty groan as each clump came crashing down.<br />
By the end of the day the tree had leaned so far forward that we thought we had lost her.<br />
Fortunately, friendly helping hands arrived with sturdy stakes and strong rope in hand. The old girl was gently propped up and she survived.<br />
Today on this gray November day, I am reminded of the struggle our dear pine endured. I thought about how valiantly she fought to maintain her roots. On that dark and stormy night I feared she had given up.<br />
Today, as I sit in my usual spot, I stare out the window, contemplating my weariness. I flinch each time I move the wrong way because my aches are painful.<br />
I lift my eyes away from the purple bike and towards the swaying branches of my lady pine.<br />
I am hopeful for I know friendly helping hands will be there to gently prop <i>me</i> up and lighten my lode when my burdens weigh me down.<br />
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<br />lyndagracehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13530605081989558341noreply@blogger.com3