tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23488136038962920742024-02-19T23:23:32.551-08:00geogemsgeogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-33639620833529737752014-06-09T01:28:00.001-07:002014-06-09T01:28:25.820-07:00Life---it is a gift.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-33399755011690594102014-06-09T01:23:00.001-07:002014-06-09T01:23:43.997-07:00June is a favorite month for me. Leads back even to my childhood. Not certain why, but I would guess it is because it is my birthday month, and perhaps the start of summer and no school. I actually liked the kids being off school but I am getting distracted. My last entry was June 7,2013. Here I am on June 9, 2014. I must have some sort of creative clock that brings me to this much ignored blog. I love writing actually---I just have had some tough stuff to write about and so I have not been here.. <br />
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I have had the privilege of being with a friend who was dying of cancer. . I don't use the word "privilege" loosely---it truly is just that. Almost a test as to what are your beliefs...and delighted that we could have long conversations about her passing to the eternal reward we talk about. The one where "...all our tears will be washed away and turned to laughter" Is. 49---loosely paraphrased. Strangely this friend had been out of my life for some time. I would run into her at various places where art people hang out and always a promise of "we should get together" and both of us back to our busy lives. I was on 'rqcone day and noted her posting regarding her first chemo therapy. My heart sunk and I recalled I did not "get together." It was almost embarrassing to ask her (via a private message) on Facebook what was going on.. She told me that she had been ill with a persistent cough (who had NOT been ill with a cough this past winter) and after a couple of rounds of an antibiotics without results, the Dr. ran some more tests and found the dreaded cancer cells in the part of her lung that was left from an earlier surgery to remove most of that lung. She sounded very optimistic and was following the Dr. and other health field team assigned to her care. I asked if I could come and see her and if she felt up to it, we could do some art. She was delighted and we set a date. I began to learn when she would feel up to doing some art...depending on where she was in her "chemo treatment". She would be so ill following the chemo for about 15 days---till the poison worked out of her system---and it was nearly time for the next one. The days got so crazy and I found myself completely on her schedule. I would not trade any of the time we spent together doing watercolor mostly, as that was her first love. She took to it---like so many talented things she did and I believe with all my heart that God allowed her some extra days to just enjoy friends and family. This was after she had made her mind up to discontinue all treatment. The Dr. was quite certain they were getting no positive results from their course of treatment and agreed with the decision. The difficulty was with her husband and him not wanting her to give up trying so God could provide a healing. She had some difficult days---I am certain there were times, especially at night, when the fear of the unknown would sneak in and give her doubts. Her faith was strong and she surrounded herself with Christian friends from her very small but active church. It was not an easy death---each day she was weaker and less able to breathe. She faced each day with a smile and a determination to make pretty things. Her birthday was coming and didn't we know that was to be a CELEBRATION. And it was! She had her hair done and a beautiful dress and make up and some sort of blinking light that announced to the world it was her birthday. She sat on her couch and held court. It was as if each of us knew that she wanted us to come to her so she could speak words to comfort us. We shared a meal and spoke about all we had seen and grown from this experience with her . We each knew in our hearts that the time was drawing closer. She had a particular glow about her that day that each of us carry in our memory bank of how beautiful the day was and the honored guest was enjoying every second. Her weakened body cooperated and she was able to celebrate for most of the afternoon. As we departed that day we knew something wonderful was going to happen. For me, that was the day I knew she was ready to meet the God she loved and served most of her life. There was no doubt that there was a place prepared for her. <br />
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I received the phone call when she had passed out of this life. We knew it was coming and yet we felt the most unexplained emptiness in the house and in our hearts. We shed tears and we said our goodbyes several times when we had been with her---but the memorial service was a beautiful reminder that the world would be a little sadder and empty with out her and her many gifts. It was a joy to hear different sharing and stories and I realized like each of us---she was different things to different people. However, she had that rare gift of making a person feel as thought they were the most important in her life.I am reminded of her in so many ways and I listen to her voice in my mind of some deep conversations and some rather silly ones where she would throw her head back and laugh the most beautiful laugh. I give thanks for what she was in my life and I pray for her family too. With faith we all know that she is with the father she served and we know we will see her again---but in the early hours of a sleepless night or the sound of a song she loved or a certain smell of a strong coffee, she feels close and I know I have heard her voice telling me it is so beautiful---this place called heaven and to watch out for her daughter who she knew would struggle...and so she is present to me.. Rest in peace my friend until we meet again...geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-90141437832103017652013-06-07T23:30:00.000-07:002013-06-07T23:36:39.631-07:00Still Trying<h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: 0.2em; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 1.5em 0px 0.5em; text-transform: uppercase;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2em; line-height: 1.4em;">FRIDAY, JUNE 7, 2013</span></h2>
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<a href="http://geogems.blogspot.com/2013/06/still-trying.html" style="color: #cc6600; display: block; text-decoration: none;">Still trying...</a></h3>
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What can I say about "neglecting" this blog??? I would click onto it at different times and since the last serious writing had to do with my mom and dying, I guess I didn't want to stay long. Time passed and here I am two years later.<br />
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Lots has happened and nothing has happened. Life and time passing.<br />
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Still no gray hair---though I have aged. I know this because I am not "jumping" out of bed in the morning! In fact, my sleep pattern has become so screwed up. I often pull an all nighter (no sleeping) and it is frustrating. What I wouldn't have given to have all this time to finish stuff I needed to get done.in the past. Or the energy I have as I check the clock for the uptennth time. I could have used it when I worked third shift and "slept when the baby slept" That "baby is now fifty years old---has a "baby" of her own that is soon to be a sophomore at UCSB.... . Oh---the hair---best color specialist in the area every 7 weeks!<br />
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Still going to lose that weight...When I have occasion to have lunch with my daughters they always say, "...you eat like a bird. Aren't you going to finish?' The "bird" must be eating during those sleepless nights---and indeed---loving the "Haagen Das ice cream bars!<br />
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Still trying to exercise. Trying to walk---exercise by ANY NAME... but the back limits me. My doctor has a solution for the back. Begin exercising with a plastic tube that you roll on---especially the areas that hurt. Each time I visit him he asks if I have begun doing. I told him that he could write down "patient non complying" as even if I could lower myself to the tube---there is no way I could roll on anything! That includes rolling to a chair to help me get up. I know he has not given up on me, for I used to say the same, non compliant answer, regarding smoking.<br />
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Still going to paint that masterpiece. I do believe I still have plenty of time left to accomplish this ! Grandma Moses was well into her eighties when she BEGAN to paint. Since I have been painting most of my life--- I think I still have a shot.!<br />
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Still going to make a "bucket list". No, not really---no intention to make any list. My little act of rebellion, as everyone else is doing that...<br />
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and lastly---still going to try harder to be a better wife, friend, daughter, sister, mother, teacher, grandma, person,---<br />
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Oh---and write on my blog!!!</div>
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geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-27755448478850154502011-11-28T19:53:00.000-08:002011-11-28T19:58:56.255-08:00cybersaleLife is so good you can sit at your computer and check out: www.MoonlightJourney.com<br /> <br />It's a huge cyber sale...don't miss out.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-31127852978371735202011-11-16T20:23:00.000-08:002011-11-16T20:25:33.674-08:00<a href="http://www.moonlightjourney.com/">The Moonlight Journey website link</a>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-71495501526983280962011-11-09T18:58:00.000-08:002011-11-28T19:39:20.199-08:00Design Team "Moonlight Journey"<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9fTZ1-U4tF4DdO08yQAe3ckMxSbv3Qq5IWV-yBBftbqjPBE8S_vK-o9YVzMro4Vc6vPwNu-bTls9GGjlpkx8jjOzm5mDcECbCeunZozUC20JMaW2ajmyo7R7WwBJ3KqDTd8TbCAVTg1K/s1600/DTAlogo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 150px; height: 150px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673196956963982722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm9fTZ1-U4tF4DdO08yQAe3ckMxSbv3Qq5IWV-yBBftbqjPBE8S_vK-o9YVzMro4Vc6vPwNu-bTls9GGjlpkx8jjOzm5mDcECbCeunZozUC20JMaW2ajmyo7R7WwBJ3KqDTd8TbCAVTg1K/s320/DTAlogo.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I am excited---and delighted---to be selected as a "design team" member for "Moonlight Journey". They are a top notch company that supplies collage sheets and designs for artists. They are fresh and beautiful. Check them out and now---to do some art for them. Hang with me. I think you will love them too. </div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-58455160291489773632011-11-04T16:13:00.000-07:002011-11-28T19:39:20.209-08:00art---not for the timid<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXxSWPBkpi59OrNKOzav1gttM83Gs_cdhtxsUfIeANkoU8xVGKT_jfmXujVpmw_CkhBfWV5gVN_zAUbpDhff6vubPeVDoGxkRTTrOZh6XctBnRxC5llcE83Y9C5q1HDen_Fco6GVhwnAK/s1600/SANY3089.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671287969116557826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXxSWPBkpi59OrNKOzav1gttM83Gs_cdhtxsUfIeANkoU8xVGKT_jfmXujVpmw_CkhBfWV5gVN_zAUbpDhff6vubPeVDoGxkRTTrOZh6XctBnRxC5llcE83Y9C5q1HDen_Fco6GVhwnAK/s320/SANY3089.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkL5fXoMxgzszIEpt7AguDLlWXDHgh44s-qI9YFAMljDwhLj0KrvVXRrg0n9RI6n4f1k94QmDb5ej8wNbZT0ChuNY2XlsmmGHiNrN657MZl8eDN5L1ae7ZyAQUHX6T-KZ6iUpyrzwCiq-/s1600/SANY3090.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671287028754555138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkL5fXoMxgzszIEpt7AguDLlWXDHgh44s-qI9YFAMljDwhLj0KrvVXRrg0n9RI6n4f1k94QmDb5ej8wNbZT0ChuNY2XlsmmGHiNrN657MZl8eDN5L1ae7ZyAQUHX6T-KZ6iUpyrzwCiq-/s320/SANY3090.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMva5KE2MVc7NXRwhqJxCany7hxX_Pxx5dL0JpirTRgP3ah2I9cNqUQniNbkJqR0Cut1xs-o6qWR4TL54VwXb1Skj8E0Weluw1K5WD6PebWba7-Kh3LkOHKTA-T6gH6Xp4gUuqcQHYvbe/s1600/SANY2742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671285732613677218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLMva5KE2MVc7NXRwhqJxCany7hxX_Pxx5dL0JpirTRgP3ah2I9cNqUQniNbkJqR0Cut1xs-o6qWR4TL54VwXb1Skj8E0Weluw1K5WD6PebWba7-Kh3LkOHKTA-T6gH6Xp4gUuqcQHYvbe/s320/SANY2742.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I think most people know that I belong to a group of four women who create art---usually at my house. We have worked on some amazing projects---some I would never have tried on my own. That is the point---to stretch ourselves. This piece is a canvas "bird house" made with twigs and wires and some split threads for the resting bird's nest.</div><div> </div><div>The other is a clay tile box lid, done in L. Mika style. It is a piece honoring my Mom. There are hand made tiles formed, painted and baked---resting around a picture of my Mom and two of her friends. A lot of love went into this piece.</div><div> </div><div>This last posting is actually Debi's I believe. It is a mandala which is a piece of art made of mostly paper, and "gold leaf". Our friend, Sally, showed us this technique. She said she wasn't a teacher, but she directed probably eight of us (that day) to make a beautiful rendering. I have such a time locating my different photos, but I have promised myself to start posting some of what I am doing. Till next time...Geo</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div></div></div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-89975312532356766302011-11-04T15:54:00.000-07:002011-11-28T19:39:20.219-08:00Stormy Weather<div>It is an unusual rainy day in San Diego. The wind is blowing and it is what we call cold and a good day to snuggle in with a good book. The problem is the weather has played havoc with Carlsbad High School's traditional parade for their homecoming. When asked---very few people could not remember when it has ever RAINED ON THEIR PARADE. The thing is, at the game tonight there is always so much planned for the band, cheerleaders, Lancer Dancers, Flag Corp and presentation of the court. I am not certain what will transpire for sure. I do know that in Michigan (my home town) a little rain was a blessing---especially at this time of year. We would most likely encounter hail, coming down sideways, snow, slush, and winds that really ARE something to talk about. Rain is considered almost a "warm weather" activity. Especially in Lansing, MI. where I have heard they have the least sun of any place---in MI that is. Back to Homecoming at CHS. So many people have worked so hard with floats, practices, etc. etc. What a disappointment---but, like most relaxed Californians, we'll survive, and look to "bright side of life" That is--- the important day---the homecoming dance. I have heard rumors that not a lot of kids go to the dances. I hope that is just a rumor---cause dances are so much a part of high school. Don't lose faith, Lancers, in the words of Annie---"THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW. Have fun---be safe---the roads are slippery--- </div><div> </div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-89059961936221904212011-10-16T15:29:00.000-07:002011-10-16T17:52:02.364-07:00Birthdays and Anniversarys<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoAchqfw0ZxkiIYBmsBjwJTerSRtCkMwz7dZnpRKWzXV-nU8xyNY6wGEi4PmdsUD23BQGXuobSKA10xHAxUjlQNhUl4RIrPif0CjmTItD3cv981fsIQYkOWScuDnpp12Pozv0_1aZEbRU/s1600/IM000443.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 232px; height: 320px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664247087007589378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvoAchqfw0ZxkiIYBmsBjwJTerSRtCkMwz7dZnpRKWzXV-nU8xyNY6wGEi4PmdsUD23BQGXuobSKA10xHAxUjlQNhUl4RIrPif0CjmTItD3cv981fsIQYkOWScuDnpp12Pozv0_1aZEbRU/s320/IM000443.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhaYLRyO7C7iRq2glYt8WumCWbOBaarIHWojAwKQzuO1Qz1lRVQDBvTFR4CS4O2T5dZJNnL1zek44LxqoDscldbwMFmjy-PO3Zhl5xbykIzCMRPvuGchZAvcC_Y19WB1dzB0_wkleGdOi/s1600/SANY3248.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664244601649705666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhaYLRyO7C7iRq2glYt8WumCWbOBaarIHWojAwKQzuO1Qz1lRVQDBvTFR4CS4O2T5dZJNnL1zek44LxqoDscldbwMFmjy-PO3Zhl5xbykIzCMRPvuGchZAvcC_Y19WB1dzB0_wkleGdOi/s320/SANY3248.JPG" /></a><br /><div><div>What a weekend this has been. As we approached the weekend I was reminded daily that my Mom's anniversary of one year since she died was approaching. In so many ways it has seemed longer since I had the gift of returning to MI to care for her in her last days. When I feel sad I remember she IS where WE all hope to be...her tears have been washed away and turned into laughter. We are the ones who still miss her ways and support and work when anyone moved or had a rummage sale since her passing. I still hear from people who have been touched by some act of kindness from her. So as the day approached...I remember it is Jack's 13<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Th</span> birthday on that same day. She had a special relationship with Jack. The Gibson's is where they usually stayed when they came to CA. She loved seeming to help--especially Jack, as he was usually the only one home in that busy household. One of the ways they would pass time is a card game mom taught Jack called GOLF. Don't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ask</span> me how to play---she never showed me. She also liked to get him in the habit of doing his homework right away after school so if he "hurried and got everything done"after dinner they could watch "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Jeopardy</span>". I say watch because to a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">normal</span> person's hearing the words are all jumbled because the volume is so high. Jack always respected and "played along"---even though he had other things to do, he would often times delay them, as he knew <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Gram ma</span> wanted him to play cards or something. Jack is our "gentle spirit". He is the one that seems in tune with someone perhaps having a "bad" day. He would be the one to come up to you---unnoticed (he hoped) to hug you and encourage you. Often times he has said to me, "...<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Gram ma</span>, we haven't had much time together. Maybe we could do something soon." I am getting off track---back to Mom...</div><div> </div><div>As Jack's birthday approached last year we knew Mom was dying. We also knew that she would deny being superstitious---but she would NEVER DIE ON THE THIRTEENTH! Heck, when we would book her flights OUT HERE TO CA, we not only had to watch the layovers, the times, the seat assignments---we knew Mom would NEVER FLY ON THE THIRTEENTH and certainly NEVER BE SEATED IN THE THIRTEENTH SEAT--- IN THE THIRTEENTH ROW! And so---you guessed it---Mom died on the 14<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Th</span> of October, at 9:15 am. Oh, that's another thing---we knew she wouldn't die at night---she was always afraid of the dark!!! And so dear Jack----you have the HONOR of Granny T dying on your birthday...and you know, it's o.k. cause Jack always was so kind to Granny. We all know she is smiling down on us---but especially the "birthday boy". We love you Mom!<br /> </div></div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-40925578380561269442011-09-28T18:21:00.000-07:002011-09-28T18:23:40.760-07:00<div>O.K.---quick post---I have mastered getting photos---just can't flip them, or get rid of when I duplicate. Have to wait till one of the little kids come over. Have a great week.</div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-80805394229630551092011-09-28T18:01:00.000-07:002011-09-28T18:20:29.441-07:00FELTING<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHJQHHswvdSCnPZARFqmvPHW5nudgynTi0mtClKafEIb1LLoR3i0BRvUhN_Hoip7-YBrYXHr0435Ksd7hw0GJ92_eLvy1aj6sXYWbT9zUiIJqlKcyKrlI6FgWl1AFLUUYwkh4tUrM-yhT/s1600/SANY3166.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657584414668930450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCHJQHHswvdSCnPZARFqmvPHW5nudgynTi0mtClKafEIb1LLoR3i0BRvUhN_Hoip7-YBrYXHr0435Ksd7hw0GJ92_eLvy1aj6sXYWbT9zUiIJqlKcyKrlI6FgWl1AFLUUYwkh4tUrM-yhT/s320/SANY3166.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqMUI2tBiOmpgMIWXPCVuO360nCu8b90h9iURE-zI2IASkQJTr6wHT8QL0QLcdC46UmSV9YnEqeyseZx9DLbn2okVQIilNVyFlfdgieo1ONBWxXObuAwz9nuAu8hUHsqia49Rl4sACooxw/s1600/SANY3167.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657584145358455362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqMUI2tBiOmpgMIWXPCVuO360nCu8b90h9iURE-zI2IASkQJTr6wHT8QL0QLcdC46UmSV9YnEqeyseZx9DLbn2okVQIilNVyFlfdgieo1ONBWxXObuAwz9nuAu8hUHsqia49Rl4sACooxw/s320/SANY3167.JPG" /></a><br /><div>One of my artist friends wanted to do some "felting". She felt (excuse the pun) she had all the stuff but wasn't certain how to use it. Anything to gather and share. It was almost embarrassing how simple the process is. You can use "roving" (which she had an excess) or boughten felt or old wool pieces or yarns and other embellishments or anything you wish to "put yarn or a design on". We began quite simply---see photo---but quickly graduated to silk scarfs and anything we could get our hands on. Back to the process. A very sharp barbed needle is used to breakdown yarns to insert them into another item---be it clothing, decor, or whatever you wish. The action of your wrist to "break up the yarns" in an up and down motion is what can be dangerous. I work pretty fast and since I have a tool, with three or four needles, I can pounce down quickly and even hold a conversation. Once or twice you pounce on your fingers---never to be forgotten.</div></div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-84040033464189384262011-09-28T17:19:00.000-07:002011-09-28T17:57:49.913-07:00ART<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VhLsem2nEpf9YZemng_3v_Q-MVoPSQ0LB-qp1VvAdy8vwlx0-9EBROmQyZ0QVnhUcliE6hUFQt_sWBtESd_G0GGz0kboUNpS778mtVWeBuiULmhqWyqGrdhBxPRvophYTjWV5luWz0tM/s1600/SANY3191.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657575542253249490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6VhLsem2nEpf9YZemng_3v_Q-MVoPSQ0LB-qp1VvAdy8vwlx0-9EBROmQyZ0QVnhUcliE6hUFQt_sWBtESd_G0GGz0kboUNpS778mtVWeBuiULmhqWyqGrdhBxPRvophYTjWV5luWz0tM/s320/SANY3191.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2clDl5HjdQXSP5WguAOhFiRHOMGGjCEklCdzzIH66RJLaD5mXfreXhkmQj2W_hTl6CNioodEkIAA4x2Nn3Btb0o82GQG9KaA6UnySezoZn_b1HXPpD52ViqXk7wtniOpVEpKKAIWYuqz/s1600/SANY3190.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657575078431631298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl2clDl5HjdQXSP5WguAOhFiRHOMGGjCEklCdzzIH66RJLaD5mXfreXhkmQj2W_hTl6CNioodEkIAA4x2Nn3Btb0o82GQG9KaA6UnySezoZn_b1HXPpD52ViqXk7wtniOpVEpKKAIWYuqz/s320/SANY3190.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCBlNX6Syt7oeuWzUNYrNZ_rlNjXZRfuNVWkPq-bJvE6K_q6nGjTKc8bBaRPzpTHDqymC_s_l-rmrBzlVJLq0_cEdzTE6H2xYJrJjJiPJlcsbLZUppjXqf2L_HC4PxOmmX1ICAN_LRuZ-/s1600/SANY3192.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657573915871452722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCBlNX6Syt7oeuWzUNYrNZ_rlNjXZRfuNVWkPq-bJvE6K_q6nGjTKc8bBaRPzpTHDqymC_s_l-rmrBzlVJLq0_cEdzTE6H2xYJrJjJiPJlcsbLZUppjXqf2L_HC4PxOmmX1ICAN_LRuZ-/s320/SANY3192.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOB1_ki3uL_pHQG9K8N-qqOd4ztMpD2LjC_UuKWOXkSA-quKWZNcUBLkTDsf_k1gHHlLT1ABNsgPvL88wN3y01rIYm17kqEBUf046_Mcg6TZKnhSMT6OCMuRJbyl-llliz0zEcv5Vn6F7/s1600/SANY3192.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px; height: 240px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657573405761834658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOB1_ki3uL_pHQG9K8N-qqOd4ztMpD2LjC_UuKWOXkSA-quKWZNcUBLkTDsf_k1gHHlLT1ABNsgPvL88wN3y01rIYm17kqEBUf046_Mcg6TZKnhSMT6OCMuRJbyl-llliz0zEcv5Vn6F7/s320/SANY3192.JPG" /></a><br /><div><div>I have been busy. How can that be---retired, no kids home, and as a matter of fact, I loaned out my car which has "grounded" me to home. I marvel at how quickly the time can pass when I just stay at home. My hours are filled with "projects". Be it art, cleaning my "art room", trying to think of my next class to teach and <font id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">which</font> "art" should I work on. I am fortunate enough to have many talented artists as <font id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">friends</font> and we try to gather when we can. <font id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">On Tuesday</font> there are four of us who stretch ourselves to try new <font id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">methods</font> and mediums. Keith has been so very generous in accepting the "group" and often times runs out to get our lunch at a wonderful deli. Anyway---here are some of the things I have been working---rather---playing with. </div></div></div></div></div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-80350702551942109702011-08-12T13:14:00.000-07:002011-08-12T16:18:31.243-07:00Class Reunions<div><div>
<br /><div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SLLU2rHF87rm6-463BNrwuA4062itD-geGK9-BAPmsfrWGMXWgiVJbwIy8_bAaLHRUq-f_aau3Qamd0eFdC8EBny8nNqqBwIDUuCtvVBqYttAsjSkEMOc0C-vJYgbGwdSYiqtnPafSDQ/s1600/Georgia-1961+Graduation.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 177px; height: 320px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640102758672827778" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SLLU2rHF87rm6-463BNrwuA4062itD-geGK9-BAPmsfrWGMXWgiVJbwIy8_bAaLHRUq-f_aau3Qamd0eFdC8EBny8nNqqBwIDUuCtvVBqYttAsjSkEMOc0C-vJYgbGwdSYiqtnPafSDQ/s320/Georgia-1961+Graduation.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div><div><div><div>I had to decline my 5<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">oth</span></span> high school reunion. I know you're all thinking---that can't be so--trust me, it is so. Living in CA and the costs of travel and other commitments we had to say no. (Keith's reunion was the same weekend) I so wish I could be a "fly on the wall".</div><div> </div><div>It seems like yesterday we celebrated our 25Th. So much had went into the prep. I was living in Lansing at the time---and trying to figure out if I started my diet in June would I "make it" by the date of the reunion. It was at "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Boyne</span></span> Apple Mountain" and I recall climbing a hill with "classmates" to have our picture taken. I tried to be cool in heels that were sticking into the soft earth and praying silently I didn't fall down. The days of having people laugh were not pressuring me anymore. I do recall in school, Miss <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Penty</span></span> (English teacher at St. Andrew's"), telling me she saw nothing funny about me. I had stood up in front of class to give a required speech. For some reason---honest, I do not know, the class laughed at me and she promptly sent me back to my seat. I acted cool and nonchalant about it---but I was dying. Not giving the speech was going to cost me. There are many stories---and they play back in my mind when these reunions roll around. But back to the 25Th. Everyone was cheerful and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">huggy</span></span> and proclaiming, "...you look the same," but quietly rejoicing they had their senior picture pinned on them. I also recall paying more for my bra than I did for my dress. (this day and age, I just pray I can keep a bra on for the length of time I need to.) </div><div> </div><div>Keith and I moved west in 1990, but I do remember seeing a classmate, Dick Taylor, at a GM Christmas party. Our eyes had caught each other and I was itching for the speaker to be done so I could see him. He was always in my homeroom and I would consider him a good friend. He always smelled good, wearing "Old Spice", and I remember once in school he and a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Zilwaukee</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">buddie</span></span> told me that they had a 400 bowling game over the weekend. I wanted to appear I knew sports :) so I fussed how great they were. Finally they blew my knowledge of the game, by saying, "...a perfect game can only be 300" than they laughed. Seems I was always making people laugh...but back to GM. The speech had ended and I started out to meet with Dick, gave him a big hug and began talking about families etc. As he was speaking I noted something beige around my waist. That was a riddle since I had a "holiday" dark, skirt on. I looked down and to my horror, my pretty holiday skirt was nearly on the floor. Seems the tiny hook and eye didn't hold. I did the only thing I could, bent down, picked up my skirt and re-fastened it. As I did, Dick said, <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyyG8Jn9cm-yriBO152JTLKEL9x1dZd5jSxvwUfRIUzmBaiF6Kh92NHWrrePoAXET3lddFu_nEPUMIzL_Dv_nAYS-ZszdFIbm1_78BHWk3hGQfzRXntloDKqQDdHnH3alED_lxYxSeyJ6/s1600/SANY2656.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 240px; height: 320px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640104492693766578" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyyG8Jn9cm-yriBO152JTLKEL9x1dZd5jSxvwUfRIUzmBaiF6Kh92NHWrrePoAXET3lddFu_nEPUMIzL_Dv_nAYS-ZszdFIbm1_78BHWk3hGQfzRXntloDKqQDdHnH3alED_lxYxSeyJ6/s320/SANY2656.JPG" border="0" /></a>"Georgia, you 'll never change." you know---maybe he's right. I MAKE PEOPLE LAUGH---but just saying, "all happiness isn't measured by smiles".
<br />
<br /> </div><div> </div><div>'61 will never die...please raise a glass to me---and see you at our 60<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span></span>!!!!! </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-73233036812363311482011-06-19T20:09:00.000-07:002011-06-19T20:34:53.605-07:00Fathers Day - June 19, 2011<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAKCXSSQ2NSlvLV6oiNOWEhYPmWBw7NzujeVXXfMavyMESoxIkEOdBNLv96AbWlUzv6ceR3eZtagCCHxOnslVDZCQ0ian3D6SadNCDstR7b0y2R9KtX_3zz5S91licDs2xnqBctx2SAac/s1600/SANY2934.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620134460974233378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAKCXSSQ2NSlvLV6oiNOWEhYPmWBw7NzujeVXXfMavyMESoxIkEOdBNLv96AbWlUzv6ceR3eZtagCCHxOnslVDZCQ0ian3D6SadNCDstR7b0y2R9KtX_3zz5S91licDs2xnqBctx2SAac/s320/SANY2934.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>What a special day---Father's Day---a day when dad sits and holds court, while his adoring children crown him with many gifts...and compliments. Often times there is a meal in the "mix". We had a breakfast---eggs to order; bacon, crisp; <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cheesy</span> potatoes; fruit; orange juice; toast...Usually we reminisce a bit---mostly light "digs" at dad; or times dad rescued us. One thing for certain---"...these are <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">little</span> scraps of magic & when you paste them together you get a memory of something fine & <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">strong</span>. Sometimes it takes till you're a lot older to see it though" Gratefully, we have seen how "dad" is perfect---for these three beautiful kids, who do him proud. Happy Fathers Day, Poppa, you deserve it!!!!</div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-87398252666993863532011-05-20T13:34:00.000-07:002011-05-20T13:59:10.374-07:00PROMMay---a month of dance recitals, upcoming graduation, letters of college acceptances, try-outs, and<br /><br /> PROM<br /><br />Our first granddaughter went to her junior prom last week. How can that be???? Her "Poppa" and her "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">soul mate</span>" went to record the event. We saw a most beautiful girl in her flowing gray/silver dress, with sequins at the top. Her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">blond</span>, long hair was off to the side with something threaded through the hair to accent it. She proudly lifted her hem and showed some "slave/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">gladiator</span>" silver shoes---you know---the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">strap</span> ones with higher heels than her high chair just a short time ago. It reminded me of the time she so proudly held up her ballet shoes. Shortly thereafter she held up her tap shoes with her invite to dance in competition. With any pair of shoes she dances trough life, enjoying every moment. ( She had worked very hard on the prom for the outgoing seniors---knowing full well---next year was her senior year.) As I hugged her goodbye, I told her, "...granny T put a dime in the hem of my prom dress to call home if we needed to for any reason, they would come get us." She smiled at me, and looked some befuddled----and said---"...why did you get a dime?"<br /><br />Oh, her date Matthew, was handsome in his tuxedo, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">and as</span> they drove off---I said,"...call on your I phone if you need anything and oh yeah, thanks for the pictures of the place. They came over so clearly. Have fun "Abba Zappa"---senior year is right around the corner!igeogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-59614656013067818962011-04-09T16:27:00.000-07:002011-04-09T19:56:59.485-07:00Masters---no fun for the Mrs.Saturday, with a million things to do, I find myself sitting and watching the "Masters" with Keith. It started with, "maybe we'll see John". (where he has been sited in the past, usually at the 16<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Th</span> hole.) He is there on one of his "programs", but no luck. Then I am totally drawn in by the two "young guns" that are leading. While Keith is watching technique---I am wanting to know specifics about them. Where are they from? How old?? I bet he hates his curly hair? Where's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Tiger</span>? <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ohhhh</span>, I bet he's mad. And what about Phil??? I hope his wife and mom are better. The announcer says "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Se vie</span>" was too ill to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">come</span> from Spain. What's wrong with him? "Young Guns"???? Our youngest, Matthew, is twice their age. I tried golf. Took lessons <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">with</span> a female "pro" from who I learned at least some of the "terms". Then I decided to impress my son in law, John---who is a GREAT, "crossover" golfer, with many talents. I acted like I wanted him to teach me golf. We got the gear---of course I had golf clothes...and headed to the course. I took out a "driver" and placed my ball on the tee, positioned my hands---and looked at john. I asked him, "which way should I swing?" He looked at me with disbelief, threw his head back and laughed that wonderful laugh he has and told me, "Georgia, you're too afraid of getting your pumps dirty to golf. Short lived career where I pictured myself a "Nancy Lopez on tour. It was HOT on the course <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">and I</span> thought a moment and said---"you're <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Right</span> John. I'm too young to golf." Now, WHAT DID YOU AND GEOFFREY DO WITH THE ANTIQUE CLUBS I HAD IN MY GARAGE????geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-20372546178203898142011-04-07T15:52:00.000-07:002011-04-07T16:14:59.734-07:00youth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQsqbb_HofYsEyJ5dA7uIVd1SMO_g1hbIlsvRCHT8PT8BDOtlH6X2LlZNTPQgTIUbmGgQuCyKt594pwN18BZ7dZEZGAeGrHXf99pX5WCR9jspB0fuDBqYThyphenhyphenBez5EuXvG-FymTVb3gpo7/s1600/SANY2009.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592978635077477762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQsqbb_HofYsEyJ5dA7uIVd1SMO_g1hbIlsvRCHT8PT8BDOtlH6X2LlZNTPQgTIUbmGgQuCyKt594pwN18BZ7dZEZGAeGrHXf99pX5WCR9jspB0fuDBqYThyphenhyphenBez5EuXvG-FymTVb3gpo7/s320/SANY2009.JPG" /></a> Most of my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">grand kids</span> are on spring break. (you know, that one to two week break to try and "break" parents) I try to do a "one on one" visit, with them when schedules allow. Katie, (the one in brown) graced me with her presence... (providing it was lunch at the soup <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">plantation</span>). We talked <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">a lot</span> about the awards the "Lancer's" took at competition; how fun the recent "show" was at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">CB HS</span>; and how she has to hit the books because some teachers don't believe in breaks. I think my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">grand kids</span> are the most <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">responsible</span>, brilliant, cutest etc. I found out that the triplets pictured here---fall under that same description!!! I asked them what <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">they</span> were doing for "spring break", expecting to hear Florida, Hawaii and other such vacation sites. Instead---they are headed to Central America with their <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">physician</span> mom, to help the "natives". Mom will be doing some <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">volunteer</span> surgery and the "kids" are doing whatever is needed. When I look a this small group of "kids" (actually they share the same birth date with Kate) I swell with pride. They were born into a mess of problems and yet they maintain a sense of joy and optimism and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">service</span> to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">others.</span>With this example of kids---we have nothing to worry about in our future. We haven't even begun to consider the GREAT KIDS at Vista HS, where my other grand daughter goes.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-73280757510703082822011-04-07T15:34:00.000-07:002011-04-07T15:39:53.409-07:00prayerI'm afraid this blog is becoming much like prayer---in a busy life. You have all the good intentions, even saying you are going to converse with God when you don't really need anything. Getting real spiritual, you want to thank Him for all the blessings and joy in a life that is filled with riches. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">unfortunately</span>, time happens and you utter one liners during the day---but not enough. If any relationship <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">consisted</span> of "one liners", before long---there would be NO RELATION. It's a good thing my God is patient and ready to "talk" when I am---in the meantime---He just keeps me in His care.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-11218394088076093522011-02-07T13:57:00.000-08:002011-02-07T14:22:43.611-08:00---EXCESSIVE CELEBRATING---I have been away from this blog for awhile...guess reluctant to finish the "story" about mom. In the mean time...SUPER BOWL!!! Gosh, it is nearly a national holiday. We settled in with more snacks than we could ever eat...furniture changed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">around</span> to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">accommodate</span> the guests...and a bet---(larger than $1) made with Keith. I went with the "underdogs", (even though Mom was born in Pittsburgh) for $25. My choice of teams was purely emotional---I DID think it was time for the trophy to return to WI---(after all it was called Lombardi.)---and I thought WI had the cuter quarterback. They certainly came out fighting. It was one of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">first</span> few plays---a touchdown <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Greenbay</span></span>---and what do you think---a flag was thrown. EXCESSIVE CELEBRATING was the call for FIFTEEN YARDS!!!! I was mad---it seemed so harsh for some guy knelling down, all by himself, in the end zone. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Consider</span> this---football has all these overgrown, overpaid, well padded "boys". The whole intent of the game is to gain access to a football---that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">someone</span> else has. Some players get overzealous and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">grasp</span> a "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">face mask</span>" or hit late or a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">thousand</span> and one plays worthy of a penalty. The game itself is set up to hit, tackle, push the ball out and "jam pile" if the ball comes loose. So answer me why a fifteen yard penalty for ONE GUY---not hitting or hurting (at least <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">physically</span>) any one else. Just him---all alone---end zone---kneeling???!!!!!geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-43733042283549432982010-12-10T10:07:00.000-08:002010-12-10T10:09:34.686-08:00Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus - Must See!<iframe height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SXh7JR9oKVE?fs=1" frameborder="0" width="480"></iframe>what a treat...lunch and entertainment!!!!geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-42177376661212606092010-11-10T15:33:00.000-08:002010-11-10T15:53:35.622-08:00take life slowly---one step at a time"THE JOURNEY" has to pause a bit and do this thing called life. I will be back with mom's trip to her next life.<br /><br />I remember as a nurse occasionally working with my mom at Dr. Nelson's office. (my mom was a nurse also). We would drive to her house for our lunch break and she would do more in that one hour, than I did most days. She would have her laundry to "hang out" and a quick look at her "soap"; dinner started; and time to go back and work another six hours. I always marveled at how fast she did things. Myself on the other hand loved the challenge of waiting till the last minute to finish a project. Kid's communion dresses were still being hemmed on the day; paperswhile in school took all day of the day they were due etc.; I think you get the picture.<br /><br />I have engaged on an art project that is from a magazine called, "...image to the soul". It is probably an art piece I would not have been too keen on making, but some friends and myself have been meeting and stretching ourselves on projects to try. This one is dedicated to my mom and I have really gotten into it...almost a must do project---but with enjoyment.<br /><br />I was putting several goats of paint onto a canvas---trying to hurry as I have the kids <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">coming</span> tonight for dinner and a movie night---and I was wanting to quickly wipe the new paint off. I hurried from the outside---distracted---and the next thing I knew I was on the floor---following a rather large crash. ( Why is it the first thing you do when you fall is look---to see if anyone saw you??!) I had tripped over a storage bin (that I left out) and pulled a chair down with me. I injured both legs and my left arm and of course, my dignity. Keith came rushing to see what had happened...and the rest as they say, is history. I anticipate some soreness, but for now I am just grateful that no one else was here. Go figure---as I write this on my blog for the world to see???? It is a little more light hearted than the previous posting. I WILL BE BACK.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-37616149952373549622010-10-27T21:30:00.000-07:002010-10-27T22:04:12.866-07:00journey of lifeWhen I would try to figure out if I should go to see my dying mom my daughter Tracy used to say, "Mom, you'll know when it's time." October 5Th was time---and I KNEW IT.<br /><br />Mom had been falling; not eating; and was hospitalized after several visits to Er's. When I called my sister and told her I was coming, she did not try to talk me out of it as she had in the past. I KNEW IT WAS TIME.<br /><br />I packed, not knowing how long I would be in Michigan. Keith came with me as I had not been on an airplane since my very unpleasant Hawaii trip---but that's another story. We left out of John Wayne Airport... tickets some cheaper and not that far to get to. Our flight was uneventful and we arrived in Detroit Metro without incident. We rent a car and are off for the two hour trip to Saginaw.<br /><br />Did I mention it was our 47Th wedding anniversary??? We looked for a place to eat as the airlines do not serve anything. We were dog tired and hungry. We saw a sign for "CHILI DOGS", Keith's favorite food of all kinds. I suggest we go there and his face lit up like it did the Christmas I told him he didn't have to come shopping with me. We enjoyed a hot dog and some onion rings. Well---not exactly enjoyed but we had eaten in worse "joints" than that in our 47 years. We got back on the road as soon as we could.<br /><br />We finally get to my sister's house. We enter and find that the living room has been converted to a mini apartment for mom. A hospital bed sits at an angle in the room, where it appears she would be able to see outside if she desired. There are two lounge chairs, one dad's and one is mom's. A nice size TV, but the big surprise is Mary had taken down her pictures and replaced them with the pictures mom had on the apartment walls. One is a very dated picture of me and my three sisters. Did I say outdated? Then there are pictures of mom and dad when they were married in 1955; one of dad in the service; a picture of dad's mom and one of mom's mother. A couple of frames with dad's medals in them and finished off with a "sick call crucifix." For those who don't know, that is a cross that was used when the priest came to the home to bless the dying person. It has two candles in it, which has a fitting place and should be lit. There is also a small bottle with holy water, that the priest uses to bless the patient. In the old days this call to the priest was when a person was definitely going to die. The priest would enter the house where he was met with the lit candles and led to the sick person's bed. This was called "Extreme Unction". Since Vatican ll, it is called "sacrament of the sick" and is often done while the patient is ambulatory and doing something as simple as a surgery for which he or she wants to be blessed.<br /><br />I walk to mom's bed and she looks as though she is sleeping. I get a full report from my sister on how she was doing. It seems her first night, last night, she was more than a little upset that dad was not in bed with her or vice versa. She insisted that he come and get her to go into his bed. It took several times to tell her that dad needed his rest and that there was not room for her in the twin bed he was using. Mary says, pray there is no repeat, as she could hardly get her to settle. Let's see how good the "pediatric nurse" is with the geriatric patient. And so our journey begins.................geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-17725483651337238852010-09-20T12:25:00.000-07:002010-09-20T13:25:13.091-07:00Life goes on...Everything has happened and nothing has happened. I haven't been on my blog since I wrote about my mom. It is always amazing to me that everyday things occur, even when you are hurting. I realize that sounds naive, it just is----amazing.<br /><br />As a Christian, I believe that this life is temporary. To put into "Baltimore <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Catechism</span>" terms,"...we are on this earth to know, love and serve God and to be forever with Him in Heaven." Well, you get the meaning. Because of the "sin" of Adam and Eve", (that's a whole <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">different</span> story), we have sin and suffering. I guess that's why,( coming into this world, "birth canal", come on), and going out is so painful. Remove all sentiments and feelings, death is a good thing. Actually a very good thing since our "after life" is so long, eternity? In Sr. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cunnagunda's</span> words,"...if you take ONE grain of sand" and something, something (hey, I wasn't listening) This is getting way too <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">philosophical</span> anyway. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Life does go on.</span><br /><br />September 11 anniversary came and went. The terror was remembered, but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">not</span> in the way we experienced it on that dreadful day. The "little boys" had soccer and football games---lost one and won one, and life went on. The teen girls had games, homework, dance, and life went on. I had a class to teach, art play, and meals to fix and life went on. Keith had work with John, growth group meetings, attendance at above activities, and life went on.<br /><br />My mom is still dying, my dad is still trying to help mom, and Mary Ellen goes there daily to help in all ways she can. We talk, every day and until I get the inevitable phone call to come, life goes on.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-85951199404643331652010-08-11T15:32:00.001-07:002010-08-11T15:58:31.792-07:00heartacheI'm not so old that I do not remember what a "broken heart" is. It is the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">crushes</span> that go wrong when you first start noticing the boys. The high school sweetheart, for some at least, who "breaks your heart..." Well, I think you get the drift.<br /><br />My Mom lives in Michigan, where we were raised and where we raised our families before moving west. We saw my parent's at least yearly, for a winter visit. Two years ago, Mom says that they won't be coming this year "...<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">cuz</span> we/re just getting too old". I haven't been able to travel because of some health issues, so I have not seen my parents in a long time. The phone kept us somewhat in touch...and time passes.<br /><br />2010 my mom is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">diagnosed</span> with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Alzheimer's</span> disease. (She has out lived all of her family at 85 years of age. ) And what a sentence. This disease is often called one in which the family suffers, as the "patient" is more and more unaware of their surroundings. When mom called me Fern I wasn't that upset, tho' I did remember Fern is the sister she did not get along with. At that time there were so many lucid moments that a few not knowing who or where was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">forgivable</span>. <br /><br />Today I learned from my sister/saint Mary that there is a possibility of calling "hospice" in if she doesn't start eating. Now, we all know what "hospice" means. (sort of like calling the priest for Extreme Unction in the old days) You always wanted to wait to be certain the person was REALLY going to die. Mom mostly sleeps now and occasionally knows Mary. I am 2000 miles away and am trying to somehow digest all of this and wonder what and if I should go. <br /><br />Anyone who knows me well, knows that my mom and me had a somewhat <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">violable</span> relationship. I am not sure why but we both had to be right and wanted all of the people around us to take our side. When I would realize how silly this was---I would write notes, (especially when I was younger) to tell her how sorry I was. This is maybe that note to her.<br /><br />Mom,<br /><br />I am so sorry to be so far away. I wish I could be more of a help, especially for Mary. I wish I could sit at your feet and you would stroke my hair and tell me how much you love me. Instead I am stuck on a rewind in my head of EVERY DISAGREEMENT we have ever had. In that respect, I am almost grateful that you are unaware of your memories. Pleas take a somewhat recent one where we were at Traverse City and you and I went back to the cottage together. I don't recall our conversation but I do recall laughing and being happy that I was with you. I have tried to hold that memory in these days of hearing your struggle. <br /><br />I have always believed that God knew who our parents were...and so, no matter any disagreements in life, You were <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">the</span> MOM He gave me. Thanks for all you have done---and even for what you have NOT DONE. Somehow in that mixed up mind PLEASE know that I love you and I pray for a peaceful departing of this step of your journey into the next. Oh, and mom, all your tears will be washed away into laughter and you can run to your Mom's arms.geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2348813603896292074.post-43253781138987806342010-08-07T15:39:00.000-07:002010-08-07T15:57:51.117-07:00risk taker-------------not in art<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xHqk1wTJyT7j5NY-PrLiVH_0kNdhV8YYPCLIiL6ZqVVBOq_NjbhhlzZ3R7dNytNaL7uQ9JfVg3KPvI7sayfB9hxLNtsqzYRAqK3HEaLeUnBU5_RR0azi_Lpi0KGGzp2tQ-cMuwXMU9hX/s1600/Isaiah+49.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 247px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502803117256392434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_xHqk1wTJyT7j5NY-PrLiVH_0kNdhV8YYPCLIiL6ZqVVBOq_NjbhhlzZ3R7dNytNaL7uQ9JfVg3KPvI7sayfB9hxLNtsqzYRAqK3HEaLeUnBU5_RR0azi_Lpi0KGGzp2tQ-cMuwXMU9hX/s320/Isaiah+49.jpg" /></a><br /><div>What a week this has been. My sleep is still messed up, so...................I got on the computer at an odd hour,and it brought me courage to share some of my paintings. You would think with these sleep habits gone <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">astray</span> I would DO some painting, but I sent odd ones already done, hanging in the house. I started with my favorite...Isiah 49. I painted this in acrylic when I was in a bad time in my life. Well, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">comparatively</span> speaking, not THAT bad, but it has become one of my favorites. I rarely work in acrylics, except in collage work, so it is probably the only one I will do. It was done first in dark colors and it looked like a hand coming out of hell. I redid it in softer colors and we can sleep at night with it in our room. I'm getting off track...</div><div> </div><div>I am not even sure how I stumbled onto this site: <a href="http://www.paintingsilove.com/">www.paintingsilove.com</a> (artist, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Geo</span>) I timidly offered this painting to the site. Imagine my proud moment when I checked in the morning, and another artist had <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">critiqued</span> my work! It was a simple one liner---but oh it was beautiful!!!!!! Bonus that she was from the UK, where some of the oldest art comes from. </div><div> </div><div>Well-----------------I thought if THAT was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span>, then I would send some others. What an absolute blast to be on a site with so many gifted artists, with all kinds of mediums. I'm afraid it has really created a monster! But wait---maybe I'll paint that "feeling"!!!!!!</div><div> </div><div>Hugs, </div><div><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Geo</span></div>geogemshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17818022676480203526noreply@blogger.com1