Mountain Girl

2004-05-12T13:26:00.000-04:00

Gone Fishing...

Every year at this time, my mind wanders to a day long ago. I was a young girl then, maybe ten years old.

I remember those first days of spring, when my mind wandered to the thought of fishing season. I was always hoping to be the first one out to a favorite fishing spot.

I had to cross the road in front our house, then walk a short distance through a path in the woods. There was a big rock there, beside a small brook. I used to sit there and fish for hours.

I usually caught a fish or two, but never that one huge brook trout, that all the neighborhood children were trying to catch.

We could see that huge fish swimming around, but no one was ever lucky enough to catch him. All we ever got from him was a nibble now and then. We were always shocked to pull in our line to discover our bait was gone, while that fish kept eluding us.

I can almost picture that fish lying down there under that rock and laughing at us, as we foolishly kept trying to catch him. We always went fishing with a home made pole, some twine and a safety pin.

Then one spring, my dad surprised me with a real fishing pole, a few days before the season opened. I will never know where he found the money to buy that pole, but I was overjoyed. I was sure that with my new pole, that fish would finally meet his match.

As I waited for fishing season to open, my patience got the best of me. I decided to take my new pole, sneak out to the big rock and see if I could catch that fish.

Sneak, I did. I knew if I got caught that I would be in a lot of trouble. I was so excited, as I sat on that rock and dropped my line in the water. In a short time, I knew that the huge trout was still there, as I could see him swimming around my hook.

I started thinking how disappointed my dad would be with me, if he knew what I was doing. My guilt got the best of me, so I decided to wait another day, when I could fish legally.

As I started to leave, I had a really insane idea. I thought maybe I could get a head start on all the neighborhood children, if I left my pole nearby.

I walked upstream a bit, dug in the leaves at the side of the brook and hid my pole there. I thought that would give me an early start the next day. All I would have to do in the morning, would be to throw on some clothes and race to the brook.

The next morning I arrived at the brook before daybreak. It was hard to still my excitement, as I knew that fish would soon be mine.

As I dug in the leaves, trying to find my pole a neighborhood boy, also known as the town bully, came walking towards me, laughing.

Boy: "Hah, are you looking for something?"
Me: "Yes."
Boy: "Well, you were out here fishing yesterday and you broke the law."

The sad truth was that he was also out there the day before, probably trying to get to that fish first. When I walked out in the woods, he hid behind a tree and watched me.

When I left, he watched me bury my pole, then as soon as I left, he stole it.

It almost broke my heart to have to tell my dad that I had...

Gone Fishing.

2003-01-06T08:44:00.000-05:00

Carter's Little Liver Pill's

Once upon a time, long, long ago hidden in the recesses of my mind, lies this little tale about my older sister and her boyfriend.

It is a story that may not have happened, if we had not been so poor. Then again, maybe all children have made up stories, hoping that their siblings believe them.

My sister told me a story one day about a boyfriend that lived on the mountain, or in the fields in back of our house. She said he had a beautiful castle where she could visit anytime she wanted. It was in a secret, magical place so I would never be able to find it. She told me that she goes there a lot and he always gives her candy and lets her swim in his pool.

I really envied her. She told me a lot of stories over the summer of how she had been at her boy friends castle and he had given her so many good things to eat.

As I listened in awe, she related how she had enjoyed his swimming pool that day. She did have her swimsuit on and it was dripping wet. I was just so jealous of her good luck. I wished that I could find that castle and maybe get invited to the pool.

I spent most of my spare time that summer searching for that castle in the fields, woods and mountains in back of our house. What a naive child I was.

I finally decided that I would tell her that I also had a boyfriend in the field. I told her that he had better candy and a much better castle than her boyfriend had. She was stunned, because she actually believed me.

The only trouble was, she believed I was too honest to "lie" about something like that. She was well known for stretching the truth, while my mom said that if she ever needed to know the truth all she had to do was ask me.

I heard my mom tell my grandmother that I would tell her the truth even if I knew I would be whipped for it. She was right and I had my share of whippings.

I felt really bad after telling my sister about my boyfriend. By the next day I had decided to tell her the truth. When I walked up to her, I noticed that she had a small container in her hand. She started flaunting it in front of me, saying it was candy from her boyfriend and she was not going to share it with me.

I begged her for just one piece, as she stood there eating them in front of me. She ate whatever was in the bottle while I watched with envy. I felt at this point that she must be telling the truth about the boyfriend out back, so I decided not to confess to her yet.

That evening when my dad came home from work, he decided to visit a next door neighbor. Angie was an elderly lady that we loved to go visit sometimes. She was a great cook and she would give us a piece of apple pie or a cookie, while we were there.

Dad came home very upset and started asking all of us if we had taken anything off the table at Angie's house. It seems that she was missing something right after we left her house that day. Of course no one owned up to doing it. I did not know what the lady was missing, but I heard mom say to dad, "We will find out tomorrow who the guilty one is".

I had no idea what she was talking about, until the next day. We had this old outhouse in our shed and all of a sudden my sister seemed to be spending a lot of time out there. I asked her why she was staying in there all day. She told me that she did not feel well.

That night when my dad came home, my mom told him that my older sister was the guilty one. My dad marched my sister next door to apologize. Only then did I realize what had happened. My sister had stolen a laxative from my neighbor and had eaten the whole bottle, telling me that she got it from her fantasy boyfriend outback.

Needless to say, that was the last time my sister talked of her boyfriend out back. I confessed to her that I did not have one either. We both learned a valuable lesson that summer from a little bottle of…

Carter’s Little Liver Pills

2002-08-29T15:30:00.000-04:00

The Rag Man

Any rags, any bags, any bottles today?
There's a big, fat rag picker coming your way,
Any rags, any bags, any bottles today?

When I close my eyes I can still hear my dear dad singing this song in his off key voice. Sometimes when I am lying in bed at night unable to sleep, things from my past pop into my mind. I think of things that children of today would not even know about. Here I am at 2am in the morning, lying here and thinking about The Ragman.

We always had plenty of rags, as there were nine children in my family. I also had a half sister, but she was much older than I. She married and moved away when I was very young.

My family had very little money and mom and dad had to work very hard just to raise all of us children. That is where The Ragman came in. I cannot remember how often he stopped by, but I do remember that my mom always knew when he was coming.

She would say, "Come on Edie Rose, come to the attic and help me find some rags for The Ragman." I was so excited, as she and I would hurry up the stairs and into the attic. It was like looking for buried treasure, as we searched through the clothes that we had packed away.

We had to be careful to only choose the things that all of us had outgrown. I remember sometimes we were very disappointed, when we did not have many clothes that we could part with. I also remember the time that mom and I found 2 large bags full and we were so happy because we knew that mom would do well that day.

I can see feel the excitement, as The Ragman pulled into our yard. Mom and I had the rags waiting for him on our front porch. I know he paid mom so much per pound, but I cannot remember the amount now. I know that probably everyone would laugh if they knew how little he paid-but to us back then-it was a fortune.

Sometimes it meant the difference to whether we ate that day or not. As I lie here thinking about my past, it sometimes almost seems unreal to me. No, I do not feel sad about my childhood. I am glad that I lived through those hard times and survived. I thank God that I had the mom and dad that I had, that taught me that money is not everything. It was just a means of surviving and survive we did-together. For that I thank God and...

The Ragman

2002-05-10T12:59:00.000-04:00

My Friend Stubbie

There will always be a place in my heart for Stubbie. I remember when he was first born, (hatched) how very tiny and helpless he was. At the time, I was not sure if he was male or female. I just knew that he seemed smaller then the other chicks that had just hatched out. I think I loved him from the first moment that he struggled to get out of his shell.

I was a young lady of about 17 at the time, and I loved all animals with a passion, except cats. My mom had a lot of cats while I was growing up, who were always having kittens. I could not get used to the fact, that they were always on the table or stove eating out of our dishes.

I also hated opening a closet door and find that they had used our shoes as a litter box. That is the reason why I am not a lover of cats, even though I think that they are beautiful. I am also very allergic to them.

Let’s get back to Stubbie. As he grew, it seemed that none of the other chickens liked him. They picked at him constantly until all of his tail feathers were gone and he was bleeding. They would drive him away every time he tried to eat. I felt so bad for him. I would bring special food to him and drive all the rest of the chickens away so he could eat. He soon became my best friend.

That rooster followed me everywhere, he was always by my side whether I was working in the flower garden or just sitting outside in the sun. I would hold him in my arms and talk to him, while I petted him. He always would walk right at my heels, as he followed me around the yard.

The only problem was that he also became very protective of me. When others tried to come near me, he threatened them with his spurs. There were 9 of us children and mom was becoming concerned, as he would not let anyone come near me without spurring them.

Most of my brothers and sisters were afraid to come outside because of him. He was a typical rooster with them, maybe more so because he was protecting me. I began to wonder if he would ever turn on me.

One day I was outside and he was ' trotting' along at my heels. I turned around just in time to see that he was ready to attack me. I screamed out his name and he immediately stopped and shook his head; as if he had just realized what he was about to do to me.

I picked him up and talked to him while I petted him. I think I loved him more at that moment, than at any other time since he became my friend. My mom was watching and told me that rooster had to go. I told her there was no way they were going to get rid of my friend.

One day one of my cousins was visiting. He was much older than I, and he was talking to my mom. If I had known what was about to happen, I would never have left the house that day.

My cousin asked me if I would walk down to a little store near our home and buy him a pack of cigarettes. I left, happy for a chance to do a favor for him, I was so naïve at that age.

When I returned home, I wondered where my Stubbie was, as he did not run out to greet me, as he usually did. It did not take me too long to figure out, that I would never see him again. My cousin had killed him while I walked to the store to buy cigarettes for him.

I can still feel the pain that I felt that day, even after all these years. I loved that rooster so much and he trusted me completely to protect him. It was a long time before I could forgive myself for letting him down.

So I am writing this in memory of…

My Friend Stubbie

2002-02-03T18:46:00.000-05:00

Winter Memories...

The winters of my childhood were so much colder, and we had so much more snow then we have now. I remember how the snow used to come all the way up to the pantry roof on the back of our house.

We used to go upstairs from our shed, and climb out the window onto the roof. We would slide from the roof on pieces of cardboard, what a ride we would get.

We soon learned that we better only slide there while dad was at work, as mom was the only one that would allow us to do it.

Dad said that we would ruin the roof, and of course I realize now that he was right. There were nine of us, so we could cause a lot of damage.

The roads were plowed back then, but not sanded very often. We lived on a side road that was downhill most of the way. We would go up to the highest hill, then we would slide for about a mile down our road.

My younger brother always enjoyed the longest ride, as he would ride on the back of a lady that lived near us. She was a large lady and we laughed when we saw him sailing by us on her back.

He had the last laugh though. He would not only get the longest ride, but she would pull him back up the hills on the sled, while we had to walk.

I remember the high winds and how bad the snow drifted on our road. The road would be completely blocked with drifts up to ten feet deep.

They would call on all available men in town to help shovel the drifts. I can remember my dad working to help open up the road, which sometimes took 3 days to clear.

I remember the frog pond where we used to skate. We would build a big bonfire, where we could warm our hands and feet. There were about 15 children that used to go with us, along with my mom.

My mom never skated, just went to keep an eye on us. We sometimes took hotdogs and marshmallows to cook on sticks. We really had a great time.

We spent every minute that we could outside. When our mittens became soaked we would put socks on our hands, so mom would let us stay outside.

We always built large snow forts. We had numerous snowball fights, as we hid behind the walls of our forts.

I have so many good things to remember from my childhood. I have just decided that staying inside now is not so bad, as long as I still have my…

winter memories

2001-09-25T12:25:00.000-04:00

Moving again…

I am a little slow this morning as I climb out of bed. It has been a long month for me, with very little activity going on. My doctor put me on a new blood pressure medication. It made my body retain fluid. My left ankle became quite painful and swollen. My left wrist also started swelling and before I knew it, I was in severe pain over most of my body.

I made an appointment with my doctor. He gave me a medication for arthritis which, should take away the pain and swelling in my ankle. It only made matters worse. After the 3rd day on this medication, I was in such pain that I found it very hard to walk or move my arms. It also was causing breathing problems. I stopped taking the medication immediately and I believed that I was getting better.

Over the weekend, I started having other symptoms. I was very nauseated at dinnertime. I ate some dry crackers. It seemed to help the nausea, while leaving me very hungry. I was in so much pain that I decided to sleep on the couch. I did not believe I was capable of climbing the stairs. A good choice.

I awoke at 4am on Monday morning feeling very ill. I was so hot that I felt as if my whole body was on fire. I could not get up from the couch. I could move only my lower arms. My upper arms felt as if they were glued to my sides, I could not pick them up at all. The pain was excruciating.

I needed to go to the bathroom and after many tries I was finally able to roll myself onto the floor. I was able to push myself up, by using my lower arms resting against the couch. When I got into the bathroom, I discovered that I could move my arms just high enough to reach the light switch.

I was shocked when I saw my image in the mirror. The face staring back at me was very red, with one small white blotch on my right cheek. I noticed that the red coloring extended to my ears, down my neck and onto my shoulders.

In the meantime, I heard my friend come downstairs and I called to him. I told him that I was very ill. I asked him if he would help me into the shower. I thought that it may help to cool me down, it did not help at all.

I asked him to just put my nightie back on for me and take me to the hospital. He put a shoe on my right foot and a slipper sock on my left foot, which was still badly swollen and painful. He wanted to put a coat over me, but I welcomed the cold ( 38 degree) morning, as I hobbled outside.

The trip to the hospital did not take long. I was so relieved to see the security guard rushing toward me with a wheelchair. I tried not to cry out in pain, as several attempts were made to remove me from my car. It was finally accomplished and I was quickly wheeled inside.

Everything seemed to happen in a blur from then on. I had to give them my medical history, while I was poked with needles and put through all kind of tests. The results of some of the tests suggested that I may be having a severe allergic reaction to the arthritis medication.

I was admitted to the hospital on a strong dose of steroids. I have taken steroids before, with very bad side effects. At the moment, I felt that I could stand anything, if only it would stop this pain. I would worry about the side effects later.

It was a long day for me. The steroids did not start working until much later in the day, when the pain started diminishing a little. By evening I found that I could pick my arms up enough to be able to sit on the side of my bed. Around midnight, I discovered that I could get up by myself.

I said a silent prayer of thanks, as I found my way to the bathroom. My left foot and wrist were still swollen and sore, but my arms were pain free, and I could move them.

At this point I felt like dancing around the room, but decided I had better just go back to bed. I don't think the other patients would enjoy watching me dancing around on one foot.

I managed to get about 4 hours sleep before I got up at 4:30am on Tuesday morning. I was given another high dose of steroids after breakfast and I just kept feeling better, as the day wore on. I had to do some physical therapy for my foot, which did seem to help it somewhat.

My doctor decided to send me home, as I had improved so much. I had to stay until 5pm, when my friend came to pick me up. I left the hospital with instructions to continue taking the steroids for another 12 days.

It has been a week now and I am having the side effects from the steroids, but not as bad as I have had in the past.

The pills make me manic and I find it hard to stop talking. My body feels all shaky inside, my mouth and tongue feels as if they have been burnt. I find that I am confused at times and cannot think rationally. I have to write down every medication that I take, so that I will not take it more than once. I find it hard to do math, something that I normally excel at. I am in a daze at times and I just sit and stare.

So far the depression and crying that usually happens when I take steroids has not hit me. I hope that will not happen this time, but if it does I will just have to deal with it.

Right now I am starting to do things again for myself. I can cook and clean once again. I can raise my arms to brush my hair. I can brush my teeth. I can use the telephone. I am alive and happy to be that way. What more could anyone ask then to be...

moving again

2001-09-05T15:17:00.000-04:00

Now and then

This is a beautiful day to do a washing and hang it outside. There will not be many beautiful days like this, before the frost hits.

Yes, I still hang my clothes outside. There is nothing like the fresh smell of laundry. I love to bury my face in the clothes and just smell that fresh air smell. It always brings back memories of my mom. How much easier it is for me to accomplish this, than it was for her.

The first thing that my mom had to do was prime the old hand pump, to pump water up from the well. It took a while sometimes, before we could get any water.

We would carry buckets of water to the stove and fill canners and large kettles to heat the water for the wash. We had an old wood stove in the kitchen, which she had to stoke up, even on the hottest days.

She had an old washing machine set up out in her shed, along with a table that held a large aluminum tub to rinse the clothes in. She had to carry the water out to the shed, once it was hot. I usually helped her with this chore. This was very time consuming and we had to be careful not to burn ourselves.

I remember that we used cold water to rinse the clothes with. It took quite a while to fill the rinse tub with water. Sometimes our hands would ache from the cold, as we took the clothes from the water and put them through the wringer..

In my mind, I can picture the piles of laundry in mom's shed. There were nine children, plus mom and dad. That made quite a lot of laundry to wash each week. I do not remember ever catching up. There were always piles of laundry waiting to be washed
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I remember that the washing machine did not have a wringer. We used an old hand wringer that attached to the rinse tub. It had a handle on it that you turned, as you put the clothes in between the 2 rollers to wring them out. I remember how tiresome it was, turning that handle.

We also had a scrub board that we had to use. We used it to scrub the clothes that came out of the washer still soiled. My poor mom’s hands were so red from using that scrub board. I admit that I did not use it as much as she did, it really hurt my hands.

My dad had put up clotheslines, which were tied to 3 different large maple trees in a diamond shape. He also cut some long poles that had a v-shaped crotch, which was put under the lines to keep the clothes from touching the ground.

I remember that we would bring the clothes in as soon as they were dry, and fill the lines again. My mom spent the whole weekend doing the wash. As hard as she worked, she still enjoyed that fresh air smell of her wash.

At the end of the day, she had to empty the washer by hand and carry the water outside. There was no pump that automatically emptied it for her. I remember carrying those heavy pails and sometimes spilling it on me. It was not a pleasant part of the job, but it had to be done to ready the machine for Sunday morning.

Mom would be up early Sunday morning, to start heating the water for the day’s wash. When we had a rainy weekend, the clothes really piled up. Sometimes we had to wash a few things out by hand, to get us through the week
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I remember trying to catch up on the ironing, but it never happened. The days were just not long enough to accomplish this. A lot of the time, we had to iron things as we needed them to wear. Most people do not iron any more. The clothes had to be ironed back then, or they would look like you had slept in them.

When I think back to how hard my mom had to work, I think of how much easier it is to do the wash now. If I sometimes want to put off doing that dreaded chore, all I have to do is think of my mom. It does not take long for me to go to the basement and push a button. What a difference between…

now and then.

2001-08-30T14:09:00.000-04:00

Responsible

The news is not always happy news and that is the case this morning. I pick up my paper and read on page two about another accident involving a teenage driver. He is only 18 years old, but his life is over. No he was not killed in the accident, but this has put a blemish on his life that will last forever.

He came speeding down a street in a residential neighborhood, at an estimated 80 mph. He was driving in a 25mph speed zone. The car jumped the curb and plowed through several neighborhood yards, where children were playing. He continued on and hit a woman sitting on a porch. He fled the scene, but was later found and arrested. So far, two of the children have died. Several lives have been ruined, including the teenagers.

I do not know the reason this young man was speeding. Maybe he was angry after a fight with his parents or girlfriend. Maybe he decided to just go for a joy ride. Maybe something mechanical went wrong. Whatever the reason, people have died for HIS actions. His life will never be the same again.

In the same paper, I read about the sentencing of a young man, who received a one year sentence for hitting and killing a nice couple who were riding on a motorcycle. Half the town turned out for his sentencing and were disappointed with the verdict. They thought the sentence was too lenient for what transpired.

He passed a car on a double yellow line at the crest of a hill. The couple did not stand a chance, he hit them head-on. His defense?? He came from a foreign country where they do not have lines on the road and he did not know the rules of the road here. They gave him a temporary drivers license here, he could drive without taking a road test. Unbelievable!

I cry for the couple and their family and friends. I also have to feel sorry for the young man. He had a promising career as an engineer ahead for him. He may have been sentenced to only a year in jail, but he will pay for a lifetime. He is very depressed and cries all the time. There is the fear that he may commit suicide. His life, as he knew it, is over.

In the same paper is a poem of remembrance for a 16 year old who was killed, if I remember correctly, while riding with some young friends. Their car struck a tree and he was killed. They were just a group of very young teenagers having a good time with their friends. This boy was intelligent and had a great future ahead of him, now he will forever be 16 years old.

We read about these things all the time. It makes me wonder what can be done to avoid some of these terrible tragedies. I really do not know the answer, but I do believe that children must be taught responsibility at an early age. I believe they need some tough love, at times. I know that a lot of these happenings are just ACCIDENTS, but I also believe that a lot of them can be avoided.

When I learned to drive, there was hardly a car on the road. I could drive to town, a distance of 10 miles and not meet one car. It is definitely dangerous even for the experienced driver, to drive in today’s bumper to bumper traffic. I shudder to think what it would be like to be in that traffic, while trying to learn how to drive.

I remember how hard it was for me, just to learn how to steer around a corner. On one sharp corner, I took my dad for an unexpected ride out through a very bumpy field. Dad never put me down for it, he knew that I was really trying hard to learn. I can still hear my dad say, “Hang onto your hat and don’t stand up”. I smile at the memories. I waited until I was in my 20’s, before I thought I was RESPONSIBLE enough to drive. I have never regretted it.

Today’s children do have a head start on us. They have go-carts, trail bikes, 4-wheelers, snowmobiles, etc. They start driving these as early as 8 to 10 years old. Their expertise is sometimes unbelievable. A Go-cart racing track has recently opened nearby. I think it is good that they have to learn to drive these by the rules.

Accidents can happen to anyone, but we all have to be ready to accept the responsibility for our own actions, so let’s all try to teach our children to be…
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Responsible

2001-08-23T15:33:00.000-04:00

Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

I think that because carpal tunnel is so common, that this entry may help others who are facing surgery. I wish that I had listened to my doctor and had the surgery, before I suffered such severe pain.

It started in my right hand in 1987, the terrible pain and swelling. My doctor wanted me to have an operation to release the pressure on my nerves.

We set a date for the operation, but as the date got closer, my hand got better. A week before the operation, I cancelled it. Why go through an operation,when everything is back to normal again.

I had some trouble with it over the years, but if I wore a brace for a couple of days, it would go away for a while. I have always been active, so when my right hand was in a brace, I would overuse my left hand.

Ultimately I started having pain and swelling in my left hand also. I am a 'leftie' so this made it very hard for me. I could no longer use my hand to write. I had to wear 2 braces at times, but I kept on doing the things I wanted and/or had to do.

I had a nerve conduction test on April 2nd, when I was told that both of my hands were bad and I should have both of them operated on. It was downhill from there. I was in so much pain, it felt as if all the nerves in my fingers were exposed.

It was sheer hell for me to even pick up a piece of paper. I could no longer read a book or do my beloved crossword puzzles. I could not even sign my name without the tears pouring down my face.

It was a long wait for the operation. I cannot believe how long you have to wait to get in. The date was set twice and then cancelled. I cried each time. I did not know how much longer I could go on being so helpless and in so much pain.

That is when my friend offered to move in with me and help me out. I could not even pick up a coffee cup at this point or fix myself anything to eat. He would make a pasta salad for me in the evening, for my lunch the next day.

He would put my cereal in a bowl and put some milk in a glass, before he left for work in the morning. I could not even pick up a gallon of milk. Some days I could not even pick up the glass. On those days, I would put 2 pieces of toast in the toaster and eat it dry. I could not even hold a knife to put butter on it. The only good thing about this time is the fact that I lost 10 pounds.

My friend tried to cheer me up a couple of times, by treating me to a hot fudge sundae at a Dairy Queen. When he passed the ice cream to me, just holding the dish was painful. I would take a couple of bites and then drop the spoon. The pain in my hands was so bad, I cried all the time that I was eating it. We decided not to try that again.

Thinking back on this, it is hard to believe that I had let this go on for so long, without doing something about it. The date for my operation finally arrived. We had to drive for 2 hours to get to the hospital. I was so happy that it was finally happening.

I will give a brief descripton of the operation, it was very simple. They numb your arm with novocaine then wrap your upper arm to keep the novocaine there. They place a cloth about a foot high between you and the doctor, so you cannot see what is being done.

I was told that I could stay awake if I wanted or they could give me a tranquilizer. I asked if they could give me just a small amount to relax me, but I wanted to stay awake. I talked to the anesthesiologist all through the procedure. He told me when I was operated on and when they stitched me up. It took a little over 45 minutes and it was totally painless.

The doctor gave me a shot of cortizone in my left hand. It was a good choice, as right now both of my hands are about the same.

I left the hospital pain free and I have not had to take any of the pain pills that were prescribed for me. I still have numbness in the middle and index fingers on both hands. I will get my feeling back gradually.

Last Friday, I drove my car for the first time in 5 months. Yesterday I was able to wear my jeans again-no more pull-ons for me!!! After what I have been through in the last 5 months, everything I am able to do, is a reason to rejoice.

It would take a lot to wipe this happy smile from my face. It is my hope that this entry will help someone out there, who may be facing surgery for...Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

2001-08-19T13:36:00.000-04:00

Food for the soul...

This weekend is not going as I have planned. I expect to read my email, have a shower, eat my breakfast, then do my WEEKLY grocery shopping. I have not shopped for at least 3 weeks. Needless to say, my cupboards are as bare as Mother Hubbards.

I have just sat down to read my emails, when my friend announces that we have company. I think that this cannot be, it is not even 8:30am, on the weekend. I look out and there is indeed a car in my yard and someone knocking at my door. My friend answers the door.

I make a mad dash up the stairs, as I am sitting here in my nightie and my robe is upstairs. I feel I should wash up a little, before facing my company.

I should explain that my hot water is hooked up to my furnace. In the summer I turn it on, only when I need to use it. I have not turned it on yet to take my shower, which I plan to take as soon as I finish reading and/or responding to my email.

I brace myself, as I splash ice cold water on my face and body. It's a very good way to wake up in a hurry. I put on my robe and return downstairs to visit with my company.

My company turns out to be two good friends from Maine. The lady friend has brought one beautiful pink rose for me. The rose is a thoughtful gesture, as I have recently been operated on for carpal tunnel syndrome. We serve them coffee with some blueberry muffins, that I had baked yesterday afternoon.

You know how it is when old friends get together, there is just so much to talk about. I offer more coffee and blueberry muffins to them, and they accept.

Our conversation turns to our recent visitor, that enjoyed his breakfast with us. I bring out my camcorder and show them the video of the visiting black bear. Our friends stay until almost lunch time, as we reminisce.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I head for the shower. The ringing of the phone stops me in my tracks. It is my daughter calling, from the midwest. I settle down in a comfortable spot, as I know we will talk for some time.

We have not seen each other in a year, so we talk on the weekends. We talk at length about the pc and things that I need to learn. I depend on her a lot to get me through some of the technicalities, it is a struggle for me sometimes.

I also get to talk to my 'almost' 14 year old grandson. I learn that he is very excited about playing football again. I warn him about playing in the heat ( temp. in 3 digits) you know how grandmothers are. He assures me that he will be fine. After telling me that he loves me, he is off to better things. My daughter and I talk some more about the pc. When I hang up, it is 2pm.

I finally take my shower and decide that we had better eat before we do anything else. I am thankful that I have fresh tomatoes from my garden. It is a quick meal of tomato sandwiches, as we are too hungry to wait for something to defrost and cook. I will cook a meal a little later tonight.

We decide that we will wait until tomorrow to do the grocery shopping. Today I enjoyed food for the soul. Who knows what tomorrow may bring??

2001-08-10T13:02:00.000-04:00

Just Another Day in the Life of....

I know the day will be different the minute I climb out of bed at 5:15am. I am sure that most people have this type of day now and then...

You know the kind of day when you jump out of bed, half asleep, and bump your shin on the corner of the bed. You immediately do a one legged dance around the bedroom, trying hard not to cry. When you recover enough to limp to the bathroom, you stub your toe and almost fall headlong into the bathtub. It's the type of thing that you can laugh about later, as you admit what a klutz you were.

In the bathroom, I splash some cold water on my face and pull a brush through my hair. This should wake me up. After brushing my teeth, I am ready to go downstairs and face the day. I will enjoy my shower after breakfast, it will help to cool me down. The weatherman promises that the temperature will be in the 90's again today.

That first cup of coffee tastes so good, it also makes me a little more aware of my surroundings. I glance out of my kitchen window and I see something black at the end of my backyard. It is just standing there looking in my direction. It is between my shed and a large maple tree. I am not sure if it is a large dog or a small bear.

Thinking that this may be worthy of a picture, I make a mad dash for my camcorder. By the time I get back to the kitchen with it, the black object is no longer there. I look around until I notice something black moving behind my tall phlox. I aim the camcorder and wait...

I am elated to see a small black bear walk from behind my flower bed. He continues on to my apple tree. He looks around for a moment, then stands upright on his hind legs.He peers toward my house and I look back at him. He is so beautiful, with his black, shiny coat.

The thought of my bad beginning this morning, quickly changes to one of happiness. I have this huge smile on my face, as I watch this beautiful animal. I am thankful that he chose my back yard to enjoy his morning meal.

Just another day in the life of...

2001-08-08T14:13:00.000-04:00

In the Heat of the Day

I awake on this morning at 5am, wondering what I will accomplish. The first thing I do is check the temperature. It is 70 degrees already, at this early hour. If I am going to do anything productive, I will have to start soon. This mountaingirl cannot take much of this heat. I can understand the complaints that I get from the midwest where the temperature is in the 3 digits range.

As I sit here eating my shredded wheat, along with an over ripe banana, maybe I will decide what the day will hold for me.There must be something that I can do on a day like this.As I sit here, I close my eyes. Maybe I can visualize the things that I would like to do. It's too hot to cook and too hot to clean. I need to think of something cool.

I think of the beautiful swimming pool that we used to have. In my mind, I can imagine that it still sits in my backyard. I can feel the cool water as I jump in. I can hear my childrens laughter, as they swim and splash around. I remember the beach ball as it hit me in the face, the cool water cascading over me. I smile, as I remember these happy, cool times.

I remember our beautiful German Shepherd dog, Lady. I remember how much we enjoyed taking her to the river.She loved the water so much. I can almost hear the plop, plop of her feet as I watch her swim around. So many cool memories.

I remember how much that dog loved ice cream cones. The mere mention of it, and she was waiting by the car. I can picture her with her tail wagging so hard, she could hardly climb into the car. She would always wait patiently while we ate our cone, without begging. She knew that she would soon be enjoying her own cool treat.

I think of the time we decided to teach the children to fish. I remember how much I enjoyed watching the children, as I stood beside the cold waters of the river. I am afraid neither one of them enjoyed the idea of catching a fish, as they struggled over the slippery rocks of the river. My eyes pop open, as I remember my daughter falling on the rocks. I look at the clock and I am surprised to see that it is already 11:00am.

Half of my day is gone and I have not accomplished a thing. Maybe I can be more productive for the rest of the day.I walk out to my kitchen and check the temperature again, it is now 90 degrees. I think I know what to do with the rest of my day. I will go outside and stand under the hose. I wish my children could join me. Maybe if I close my eyes...

2001-08-07T13:47:00.000-04:00

An Unwelcome Guest

I jumped out of bed at 5am this morning with the hope of doing my laundry before the temperature hits the 90's. My washing machine is down in the basement and its really cool down there but...

I have to carry the clothes up the stairs and out to my back yard to hang them out. A grand total of about 150ft, which would leave anyone puffing and panting in this heat. I was really raring to go, when my friend went to the basement to get some work clothes, that he keeps there. He came back up to inform me that I have an unwelcome guest down there.

I do have a cement floored basement, so could not imagine what could be down there. He informed me that there was a bat clinging to the wall, at the bottom of the stairs. Now, I know that some of you out there may like bats, but I am terrified of them. I like frogs or snakes, but show me a spider or a bat and I will shake for a week.

My friend went down and placed a can over the bat and removed him from the wall.He put the can in a small plastic bag, carried him outside and deposited him in the woods behind my garage. He even stopped and covered him with leaves to protect him from the elements. He does not like to kill things.

My friend left for work at 6:30am, after telling me it was safe to go down and do my washing. I was about to do that, when the thought came to me, the bat may have a friend down there.Just the thought of picking up some of my clothes and finding a bat, made chills run up and down my spine. I opted to wait until my friend has more time to search my basement, before my clothes get washed.

I will be a little ashamed to admit my fear to him and how my whole day changed because of... an unwelcome guest.

2001-08-06T15:26:00.000-04:00

Welcome to my web site, from the mountains of NH. I would like to introduce myself. I am a 40 year old mountain lady living in a 63 year old body. I am retired, but have little time on my hands, as I always like to be doing something. I came from a family of nine children. I am the next to the oldest. I have 2 children, one of each, in their thirties. I also have a wonderful grandson, almost 14 years old. They all live miles away from me, so we mostly keep in touch by email. My daughter set this site up for me and I love the way it looks. The picture of the little shed was recently taken by my friend of 14 years. He lived on a farm in Maine and this shed was used to store his dad's corn planter. I love gardening and have dreams of one day having a greenhouse. Well, everyone needs a dream. I love to cook and clean, all things domestic. (for real) I am more of a homebody than anything else. I also love the outdoors. There is so much beauty here in the mountains, I enjoy it all. The birds, the lakes and streams. Most of all I love the mountains, from which I take my name. This is my first attempt at writing online, so please try not to judge me too harshly for any mistakes I may make. Until we meet again, keep a smile on your face and love in your heart

Mountain Girl