Getting to the Root of the Problem

Jacob and friend were here this week. I loved having them around, and I also greatly appreciated the way they were so willing to do some heavy work around the yard. One job I gave them was to pull that darned ivy off the trees. I told them to find where the vine was rooted in the ground and pull the whole thing up and then off the tree. Just pulling it from the top doesn't do much good. The same applies to other situations. Nurses often see a patient complaining of pain only to receive a "pain killer." Sometime this is honestly all a patient really wants, but the bigger question is where is that pain coming from and what can be done to treat it? A commercial I really do not like is for Febreeze. I get the concept, but really, do we just want to cover up stinky smells? Isn't it better to find out what smells and eliminate it? Once I had a terrible smell in the kitchen and finally found an old moldy orange. Throwing it away solved the problem and I didn't even need to use deodorizer! It is really worth it to dig a little and get to the root cause.

Dandelion 2012

This is a great website about this wonderful, versatile plant.

Nature Lover

We didn't get much of a winter here, but I haven't heard anyone complaining. With the trees greening up, the early azaleas blooming, birds singing in the trees, and high, honking geese on their way back north, spring is well on its way.

I was outside some this morning looking closely for what was going on in my natural and unkempt but well-loved back yard. I am always surprised to see how life goes on, how change occurs even among the smallest visible living things. I had my favorite pocket camera, but all I photographed was this cute little ladybug.

and the beat goes on...

Two years ago, I was blogging about my new life that was soon to come, retirement and living on the coast in beautiful Wilmington. But that is not how it played out. I figure it is good to make plans, to look toward our futures with hopeful anticipation, but it is just as important to adapt well when things do not go as we design. Greenville is a great place. I am happy to be here. And, by choice, I am working every day this week. About twenty years ago when I was living in Columbia, I asked one of the nurses I was teaching with what nurses did when they got older. She answered, "They just keep working." That has been true for me. If a nurse is willing and is halfway decent at what she does, she can work for a long time. It is a shame not to do anything with all that stored up experience, i.e. hardwiring, and I am glad there is still a spot for me, as long as it is voluntary. I find it helps my brain, body, and mood.

TX PIX

Nicholas, age nine, went to his Cub Scout meeting at a park while we were there. It could have been - maybe was - called Dinosaur Park as it had replicas of dinosaurs for the children to play on and places to dig for bones. The Austin area has some beautiful, gnarled live oak trees. This pic isn't of one of them, but it was one of the few trees in the play/picnic area at the park. The sun was setting, the moon was out. Why not.

flying home

We had the cheap seats on the way to Texas. Cramped seats, only beverages offered during the three hour flight, and an aging flight attendant whose big bottom swung from side to side as she walked up and down the aisle, hitting passengers on both sides. Going home we upgraded to first class. Totally worth it. As soon as we took our big comfortable seats, we started being catered to by a cute, efficient attendant. We were called by name, offered anything we wanted to drink, and were given a wine glass of hot mixed nuts. After the plane was solidly in the skies, a good dinner was served. About fifteen years ago, I flew first class for the first time, all the way to Las Vegas, compliments of my sweet brother. As I sipped my champagne cocktail from five miles in the air on that dark night, I thought I must be in heaven! Another time, on a flight back from Arizona, there was a call for a doctor or a nurse. Apparently a passenger needed medical attention, and for all I knew it could be a panic attack, so I rang my bell and quietly told the attendant that I was a nurse. She basically shushed me and said she would try not to get me involved. I always thought it was to protect my first class status. First class is more fun, a luxury to be appreciated in these times of torturous air travel, but however I got here, I am once again very grateful to be back home.

In TX

We are in Texas with its Luby's cafeterias, cattle and horses on sprawling land, and big cities with complex highways, high overpasses, and congested traffic. Seeing all those flashing blue lights and wrecks along the sides of the roads really made me glad to arrive safely in Round Rock late yesterday. But Sunday in Dallas was such fun. We met my cousin Nancy at Stonebriar Church in Frisco for the 10:45 service. Seeing Chuck Swindoll preach has been on my lifetime to do - otherwise known as bucket - list. I first became a fan when I was a home health nurse traveling from place to place in my car. I learned to schedule driving time from 1 - 1:30 in the afternoon just to hear him on the radio, his profound words delivered in such a way that even I could understand. When I found out that Nancy, whom I had not seen in many years, went to church there I contacted her, and it all came to pass. The singing and teaching were just as good as I had hoped. Then it was on to downtown Dallas to see where President Kennedy was killed back in 1963. We walked around the streets, got on the grassy knoll for a photo op, and went up to the sixth floor of the Book Depository. The hubby, and I totally trust his opinion in such matters, said Oswald probably was the lone shooter, and the mob was behind it all. Now to see what this day will bring.

Sadness

Connie is my number one reader. If I don’t blog for a few days, she will email and encourage me to keep it up; then she will give me some undeserved praise. Now it is with a sad heart that I must write about the loss of her husband of forty-eight years, Ronnie, who died just two days ago.  Their relationship reminded me of the words that Anne Bradstreet wrote about her husband, “If ever two were one, then surely we.” They were that close.  Only five days elapsed between a trip to the ER and an ICU bed where Ronnie shed his earthly body and passed from this life into the next, too quick a time for a wife to grasp how her world will change. It seems overwhelming. I remember when they met, and married, and when he went in the Air Force and I sent my maternity clothes to Oklahoma, and when they moved back home when, as life worked out, I was moving away. But we remained good friends and important to each other over all the years. I will miss Ronnie. He was always welcoming and loving to me. And I can’t imagine how Connie and the children will miss him. Life is short.