Have we had enough?

The other day I sent my son to school without his cell phone.  This was as a result of some low grades and I had taken the phone away in hopes his grades would come back up so he could get the phone back. He had come into my room that morning and asked if he could take the phone to school and I refused him. Later I saw a text on my phone that he had sent me the day before “did you see the news about the school shooting?”  I had missed that text-and now I know why he came in to ask for his phone-it was the day after the Florida school shooting where 17 students and faculty lost their lives. Only when I saw that text did it occur to me that perhaps he had asked for the phone because maybe he was feeling anxious about attending school and having his phone would have made him feel safer to have a connection to me. Then I realized that it would make me feel better having a connection to him. Who would have thought we would be here as parents – fearful to send our kids to school. Wondering could it happen at our school?

I don’t always write about things that are controversial- but sometimes you just have to speak out.  And to be honest there doesn’t seem to be a need to make this topic controversial because I think we can all agree on the premise – that we are all sick of  kids and adults being shot dead in schools. This problem has become prolific.

Here is a list of recent school shootings in case you missed it.

Aren’t you frustrated at seeing the heartbroken faces of the families who lost a loved one? The faces of the murdered flow past our screens in rapid succession – maybe strangers to us but to someone they were the world.  And don’t we feel the pain? and don’t we become angry? I think most of us agree enough is enough.

But then what? It doesn’t seem our politicians can agree on what to do about the issue. They don’t want to become unpopular to their constituents or perhaps to the lobbies that fund them. So what happens? Nothing. They let  enough time go by and the masses demanding change thin out because they have life to get back to and the pressure on the politicians lessens and they go on without having done anything – then there is a next time and another.

And lets face it- nothing that is done will completely stop these horrible tragedies from happening but does that mean there shouldn’t be change?

And by this time you might be reading Gun Ban into my writing and if you are doing that you have read wrong. I don’t hate guns. I live in the country where many people own and use guns. I think guns are tools that need to be respected. But I do feel not everyone should have one.

The answer to this national epidemic doesn’t fall into one category. In my opinion, there needs to be a multifaceted approach to maybe begin to see the number of these school shootings and hopefully other mass shootings significantly decline. But we have to compromise and we have to admit the truth about a few key issues.

While I find that there is a need for gun reforms there is another pressing and urgent issue that must be addressed in this country and that is the failure of our mental health system. This especially applies to children and teens and young adults.  I keep hearing from politicians that it’s not a gun issue it is a mental health issue. Well politicians here’s the truth our crappy mental health system is the issue – it not hard to find story after story online of our fractured mental health system in the United States. The system is broken and must be fixed. The truth of this situation must be admitted by our national and state governments – only they can facilitate a fix to this crisis.  If it’s not a gun issue and is a mental health issue something better happen to begin improvements to a system that isn’t doing much to help the most broken among us. 

I say this with some experience circumventing the mental health system can be a nightmare.  Our family has been lucky – our needs weren’t huge. I wasn’t looking for a bed for a psychotic or homicidal child. I didn’t need to sit for hours and sometimes days in an ER only to be told  that there just weren’t any beds to admit their child.  Or told that their child didn’t meet the “criteria” for admittance to a residential facility or that the hospital that could take the teen that was suicidalcould only keep them for a few days -the family would need to find other facilities for their child- leaving them to step into the sea of beauracracy and limitation that is our mental health system .  We were lucky, We only had to try to find a psychiatrist and an therapist for my child. This seems easy enough but finding Psychiatrists wanting to treat adolescents under 18 are not easy to find and often the ones I found didn’t take our insurance. We paid the full hourly fee out-ot-pocket for years because we found someone very caring and open to working with our child. He left to go teach and we found another doc only to have him leave the practice shortly after we began to see him and  nobody stepped in to replace him.  I could go on with the stories but you get my drift – I think- i hope.  We are lucky that we could afford it- and we are blessed we haven’t been in the situations I mentioned above but I know of people who have been. Friends it’s a mess. 

The other day President Trump said that when people see dangerous behavior or strange behavior that they must report it. I know of families that did report that their children were becoming a danger to themselves or others only to be turned away. And worse –  At the ER the staff will often look at cases like these and if the parents ask for the child to be admitted- and refuse to take the child home – begging for someone to help – the staff at the hospital might call Child Protective Services or they might spell out what CPS might tell the family…you must take your child home – we have no bed- we cannot help – they don’t meet the criteria- they are too dangerous for XYZ facility – if you don’t take your child home then you will be charged with child abandonment and neglect. The very parents who are trying to get help for their child – the very ones who might feel fear of their raging teen but who still want ot help this child will be charged with neglect if they refuse to take this raging child home. Who is be neglectful really? It is our system.

So the very system that the President is asking people to depend on and report things to is broken and has turned away many people young and old that need attention.  I know the health care providers don’t want this but their hands are tied. This has to stop because those kids or adults who have ben turned away time after time will not be helped and we can expect to see more violence because of this. 

With the closing of many longer term intensive mental health care facilities in the latter half of the last century we see less beds and more doors closed for the mentally ill especially our youth.  Hospitals simply cannot meet the demands that are now placed upon them to handle severe mental health cases. And that leaves so many with no means of help.  What a tragedy.

So with the failure of our mental health system to meet the needs of the mentally ill population the people who need to be in a mental hospital will not be in one. So our gun laws will fail because the only way to fail the mental health part of a gun check to acquire a gun is to have been committed to a mental hospital.

Right now, under federal law, a person can be tallied in a database and barred from purchasing or possessing a firearm due to a mental illness under two conditions: if he is involuntarily committed to a mental hospital, or if a court or government body declares him mentally incompetent (ref 1). So if you have a mental health issue but have not been committed or found incompetent you won’t be in that database that is searched for that red flag.  
So how does all this get fixed?  I venture to say it will never ever be full proof. But still things need to improve. Admitting to and then addressing the issues that plague our mental health system is a start. In the meantime let’s get some rational gun laws on the books. Personally, I do not like the high powered rifles and feel they should be banned but that is just my opinion and not a popular one- so in spirit compromise I thought of the following that could be put into place-

–Don’t sell guns of any type to anyone under the age of 21. Many states have a legal drinking age of 21 for a reason. Why not enforce the age 21 for gun purchases too?

–Don’t sell high powered weapons to anyone under the age of 30. Ok I know people are like What? That is not fair! Well if we take into consideration the maturation process of the brain – it has been studied a lot- and it’s proven that as we reach our latter 20’s our impulsivity declines. So perhaps by the latter 20’s a person may have better control over reactivity, better control over feelings and reasoning.  A more mature person might be inclined to use it for the right purposes. 

Maybe a young person with mental illness will be stopped from acting out in such a devestating way if we just make some effort to tighten up the laws to help protect the most precious among us.  

Now I am sure I will hear the argument  that if someone wants a gun they can find one…this might be true. But I think it might be safe to say that not all of these people who committed mass shootings would have obtained their guns illegally- some may have maybe all would have-but I doubt it  – but something has to give. If the gun laws change and nothing improves well then we know we are paddling up the wrong creek. And I won’t pontificate more on the other huge issue – our failing mental health system. Ive said enough here. 

One of the things that was spouted after this last shooting was that Cruz got his gun legally- but there are clearly gaps in the system that are causing problems. Lets be reasonable. I mentioned above I don’t want a gun ban. I dont hate guns. But I certainly do not feel that any of my children (I have two teen minors and one adult teen)should own a high powered rifle-they have no need for one -and I would venture to guess if you are reading this and you have kids you probably feel the same – ok so I know there are the outliers but I’m sure most of us don’t feel we need our 16 year old running around with an AR15. I am only trying to plead for some reasonable change in laws so we can better protect our schools and other public places – but especially our schools.

I have truly had enough. I read an article the other day about this last shooting in Florida and in the article a woman was interviewed while she and her husband were looking for their daughter. They had been reunited with their son but their daughter hadn’t turned up and wasn’t answering her cell phone. The mother knew the police often ask the kids in a lockdown situation to leave their backpacks in the school and to leave on foot. So she figured her daughter left the cellphone in her backpack. There was another rendevous point that was hard to get to – it was at a mall near the school I believe and her husband borrowed a bike to go to that mall to try to find her – but to no avail. That mom was fairly sure they would find her – she thought she must be with a friend or another parent…

…At the end of that piece was the news. The family confirmed later their daughter was among the 17 killed.

That shook me – my stomach fell- my heart jumped. I felt her hope in that interview. The hope only a parent can have when the alternative is too unthinkable. I can only imagine the horror and grief she felt when she found out her daughter was dead.

I have had enough. Haven’t you?

Am I that good? 

In the days and weeks since my mother in laws passing this past July there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought of her. I miss her so much and I feel a little lost at sea without her. 

I was a lucky one I got a great mother In law and she became a close friend. 

To know her was to love her. She was really special. When you spoke with her she made you feel so important. She never wanted the conversation to dwell on her. Though closer to her end time she did suffer and we did talk about her. We tried to make her feel nearly as good as she had made us feel over the years we knew her. 

Doris always made you feel like you were a great person.  In her eyes you were the best. If her son loved me then I was a rock star. 

Just knowing her made me feel like I wanted to be a better person. Not because she would judge you because you fell short but because she saw you in a way that maybe you had never seen in yourself. She was good and kind and you wanted to be good and kind. And just maybe bc such a good and kind person could see you in this way -just maybe you were those good things she thought you were -and you just walked a little differently -maybe more confidently maybe more happily or  you acted more kind to others. 

She herself was a quiet soul. She didn’t want a big deal to be made over her. We spent hours on the phone. She listened to my problems or just things I did since our  last conversation.  We talked about her life too. Our phone conversations are my most precious memory I have with her. Being together for our many family dinnners didn’t always allow for the intimate conversations that the phone brought. We were one on one. I was hers for that time. And she was mine. 

I was always awed at how far her love spread. She was close to cousins and nephews and nieces. And not once did she make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself and never did she make me feel compared to anyone. Everyone in her life was as important as the other. 

That doesn’t mean she never got upset with anyone. She did. On rare occasions. Usually her dismay was understandable and it came from her fierce love and protection of her people. What she wanted most was for all of us to love eachother. Especially after she was gone. 

There are a lot of us. Six sons and wives and grand and great grands, nieces and nephews and cousins and removed cousins, and friends. We all loved her and we all miss her so much. 

Since she’s been gone I’ve run the gamut of emotions. I have wondered a lot am I really as good as she thought? I know I wanted to be a better human when she was living and I continue in that endeavor. But death makes you think of the short trajectories our lives have. Some run shorter than others. Doris lived 91 years. But I’ll bet she thought it rushed by. Whether she felt that like I do I don’t know but she loved so well during her time on earth. And in my hindsight of my life I see things that I’m not proud of. Things that I wish I could undo. Am I really the person she thought I was? I don’t feel that way now. But I hold on to the fact that she loved me warts and all. Because I know she saw the lessor sides of me. Me frustrated at my kids, me stressed as we hosted family dinners, probably even me angry. She knew I wasn’t perfect and she still thought I hung the moon. That is a gift I was given from her. 

I asked my husband Kevin if he thought any of us were as good as his mother thought we were and he said “no – probably not.” We both laughed and cried a bit. Doris Sweeney saw the light in everybody. 

In hindsight there are so many things I’d like to change. I don’t like how fast the sun rises and sets these days. But on each sun rise I can try to be the better version of me – the one she saw in me. She may not be here to put shine on me when I am tarnished but I can still try everyday to be that person she saw in me. I will try.  I will. 


Selfies! Mom (Doris) and me. 

He’s ok. 

It’s taken me over a week to write about this.  The pangs of fear have ebbed. My son lived through this. Thank God…

….



I came upon this scene not expecting what I saw. Our Jeep Grand Cherokee was laying upside down against a tree in a yard maybe two miles from our home. They say many accidents happen less than two miles from home. I guess either because we travel that distance so much or maybe we let down our guards so close to home. 

I sat in the car crying hysterically -the shock of what I was seeing was horrifying even though what I knew was that my son was alive. He was alive. He lived through that. He was the one who called to tell us to come. He said he had an accident in the car. He said something about hitting a mailbox. And it was bad. He never said how bad and I never asked that as I ran around my bedroom looking for my shoes and yelling for my other teens to go find their dad because there had been an accident. 

My sweet son saw me crying as we pulled into a neighboring driveway just feet from where the car layed upside down. He opened the door to the car and leaned in to hug me. He was sobbing. We hugged and cried.  He was breathing and whole. The paramedics needed to look at him. He pulled away. 

Kevin was out of the car talking to the police. I was a mess.  A stranger who helped my son out of the car held my hand as I cried and cried.  I couldn’t control it. My son was alive yet I cried at what could have been. This outburst so unlike me yet it took me over like an alien being. I could have lost him. 

The slap in the face  of the fragility of life that wakes you up is palpable in all part of my body. Life is so fragile. I thought I knew that already. We’ve lost a number of people very special to is just recently. But this. This is my kid. What is God or the universe trying to tell me? I’m listening! 

You let your kid leave the house and say a little prayer or cross your fingers that they will be safe when they are out of your site. You look for other things to keep you busy otherwise youd worry 24/7 about them. Maybe after a while you let your guard down a little. Then boom -the call. An accident. 

Parenting is not for the weak. We don’t have any control when they walk out the door. None. All the things I was dealing with that seemed so important before this happened seemed unimportant in the aftermath. If anything you get some perspective when these things occur.  

We spent the requisite four hours in the ER where you enter a surreal world where time is suspended. It never feels like hours and hours. Yet it does. And when we leave the ER it’s like we are spit back into the real world. My son was lucky nothing but scratches. The accident caused by low blood sugar      . They checked him for diabetes but they suspected that he had hypoglycemia after running a cross country race just before getting in the car. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch hours before his run. That was out of the ordinary for him. He usually carried a snack.  

An officer came to see us in the ER to give us the accident report. No ticket was issued. He wasn’t speeding or driving wrecklessly according to witnesses. He simply went off the road a little but right near a small embankment and his reactions were muted because of the low sugar.  The car took its own trajectory through a mailbox and a yard and then flipped over.  Airbags deployed. Amazingly that Jeep as bad as it looked stayed together around him. 

My son remembers very little.  And that’s good because he isn’t afraid to drive. He knows now not to get in a car after a race without snacking first. He knows what signs to be aware of that indicate low blood sugar. Not remembering is also bad in a way because you want it to shake them up – to teach them something so that you never have to get that call. Or see that scene ever again. But I think he learned. And really we just have no control. 

If we could do it all  over I would have made sure he had snacks and some drinks before he left that morning. My husband who saw our son right after his race would have stayed around longer and probably would have taken him to the local sub shop just like he always did before our son got his license. 

But these things happen and that bites! I’m so thankful for his being ok. I’m still shaken up.  I was just putting my guard down and relaxing a bit about his driving. Now I’ll be on high alert again.  

We can’t wrap them in plastic wrap. We have to let them go and do what they are going to do. But I want to wrap them in plastic wrap but I know I can’t. And I can’t wrap my heart in plastic wrap either. 

The heart sits vulnerable in my chest … and that’s the hardest part..

Forgotten friends: rediscovering my love of the physical book. 

When the digital age of books began, I got a kindle and then a kindle app on my iPad then on my phone. I loved it. I could read in the dark of night. I could read anywhere and I had a load of books with me all the time. In a small device. It was marvelous. 

I was never going to get a print book again unless it was signed by the author or I got a gift. Or if I needed a coffee table ornament. But you get the drift. 

But books had always had an allure to me. On my birthdays before the digital age of books I would request two things on my birthday to go ride my horse and to go to the bookstore.  That for we was the epitome of a perfect day.

I’d be nice and zen from a good ride and then I’d grab a coffee at the bookstore coffee shop and I would browse the books. I’d leave with a bag full. Do these big stores even exist anywhere? I know a few places where small independent bookstores still stand. Those stores are awesome. Strong and steady -a beacon for those who still read real books. 

My book fetish began by having a book loving momma.  She began reading to me when I was just an infant. And I did the same for my little’s. I remember my mother and I sitting down to read Babar and Mother Goose. First she to me then later I told her. Oh how I loved Babar. 

Out of that was born a reader. I read voraciously as a child. If we had a book list for summer break I doubled the amount required. 

We went to the library and that smell of the books became as important to me as the words that were in them. I loved getting new books because of how they felt in my hands. I would be the first to dog ear a page (I always lost my book marks and hated losing my place.). I felt something stir inside me when I got a book to read. 

My love for the real thing – a solid book really hasn’t left me. It just got put away on the back burner as I read and read on my reading apps. But every once in a while I stepped inside a bookstore.  And the feelings of book love returned. 

We have a small independent bookstore in Bethany Beach. I stopped in there a few weeks ago to browse. The kids and I all left with books. It’s much easier to read a real book on the beach. An electronic device and sun do not mix. Light is my friend when reading a real book.  I can see the print when I am on the beach but not so much at home these days. Which is why the switch to a reading app went so well for me.  I could make the print big. I didn’t need readers. 

My mother isn’t just a reader she’s a super reader. She has read thousands of books. I think she should have been a librarian, and a decorator, and a doctor. She did work at the Library of Congress for a stint. She’s pretty darn smart. 

My mother had hundreds of books on her shelves in her home. She loves them. Each book. They are not just words on a page. The books are her friends. They gave her joy.  There are some she didn’t keep over the years but that’s because they weren’t worthy of her shelves. A Bad book. There aren’t too many but there were some. Thank goodness or the books very well may have taken over. 

My mom was forced to move out of her last home and in with us last November. She had lost her husband -my stepfather- the year before and I was worried about her being alone in PA. But she stoically stayed the course and lived alone until one illness and a trip to the ER -a call to 911 she doesn’t remember making – and a ten day stay in the hospital -made her realize it was time to leave that home and go to Maryland to live with her daughter. 

It was a change for all of us. She basically left the hospital and never returned to that home. We handled the move from Maryland and Kevin and the boys got most of her belongs out and sorted. Some came here and some to our beach cottage in Delaware.  Her housekeeper packed up much of her stuff including hundreds of books. 

I hadn’t seen the extent of the move because I was sick and readying for more surgery. Most of her boxes went to storage then after many things moved to the beach cottage her many boxes of books and other personal things went into our garage. So much stuff! So many books. We didn’t need all those books. We had digital books now didn’t we? It seemed such a no brainer. We will sift through the books and keep just what mom absolutely wanted. We would donate the rest – no biggie. 

It was taking a while for us to get to the book sorting job. We had sorted through many boxes of her other things but the books remained. I had no idea where to put them. We have a small rancher and it was already full. So I kept putting that job off. But my mom asked often about the books. 

So in a frenzy of wanting to get rid of stuff because I could now physically handle the task and because I just love to purge – I made room in a bookcase in our dining area that I had used to hold dishes we never used much -if ever.  

So the task of unpacking boxes of books began one day recently. It was unplanned but my momma was feeling pretty good that day. I think I thought that many of the books would be going in the give away boxes. But I could see how much each book meant to my mom. She would pull one out and say how it was a good book or that my daughter might like it. We began to make a pile  for my daughter and one for the boys. I found a few that I wanted to read. We began a pile to be taken to the beach house. 

Pretty soon I realized something. 

I still loved the physical book. 

The whole thing words and paper and smells and covers. 

We found another bookcase that wasn’t really being used in the basement. We cleaned it off and the boys hauled it up to the dining area which was looking more like a library. We began adding more books. We did have a good number of books that went to be donated. When we were done I felt happy at a task done but more than that something felt so good about seeing those books on those shelves.


And better yet I sometimes see my mom perusing the shelves or just staring at her books. I can tell now why she asked about them so much. She has lost a lot in the last few years so those books are a connection to the past. 

Do we need all these books taking up space? A few weeks ago I would have said heck no! But now I smack that me. Heck yes we need those books! 

Sometimes. I just don’t get it until I get it. 

Getting crabby

When Rudy and I walked down to the bay beach near Cool Breeze Cottage the other day I never expected I would spend a half hour turning over upended horseshoe crabs. The neighbors had warned me that we might see some upside down and we might have to give them a helping hand. 

Why so many Horseshoe crabs? 

Mating season. 

The Indian River Bay which is a two minute walk from our new beach cottage happens to be a prime migrating ground for Horseshoe crab mating season. 

Who knew?

I have hoped that I would begin to learn more about coastal nature. I want to learn about the land and sea animal and plants. So Horseshoe crabs are a place to start. 

Thanks to my Alexa I found out that the Horseshoe crab average life span is thirty years. Whoa. I bet many don’t get that far but when you see a dead one on the beach you might be looking at an old crab. 

That’s often how we see these crabs- dead on the beach. They look scary. But they are actually not aggressive. They don’t have claws that would pinch a human. I guess the horn could hurt if you ran into one underwater. They are quiet and docile and when upside down on the beach pretty helpless. 

The crabs spend two to three weeks in this mating pattern. The female beaches herself and waits for the guys to show up. Sometime she has more then one Suitor. It’s a real love in.  She then stays on the beach to lay her eggs and thanks to Wikipedia I read they can lay up to 160k eggs in one sitting. 

Well excuse me..

Whoa again! But many are eaten by birds. 

The birds -another cool story. The Artic tern just happens to show up during their migration north or south ( I forget which way) and are there just in time to eat the crabs eggs which controls the crab population and gives them strength to continue their migration. They come back every year at that time. 


So cool. 

Another cools thing is the eggs are about the size of BBs. The larvae are hatched and are a fully formed little crab. 


Phot0 cred above:imgarcade.com

I sadly missed the day where there were thousands on the beach. But I did get out there to see a lot happening. It’s really awesome. 


Photo cred: wnpr.org

So back to me turning over the poor crabs who were rolled over. Normally they are supposed to be able to turn over using their long horns. But some have cracked horns. And many that I turned over were missing horns. We all have our challenges and sometimes we need a little help. 

Rudy my Golden had no desire to be near the creatures and I was glad when my daughter found me on the beach after her run. I was on a mission to turn over all the upended crabs on the few hundred feet of beach. I handed her Rudys leash and I kept I turning over the crabs and for a while returning them to the water line. Which was getting tiring when my hubby Kevin came in the scene not surprised by my work. He began to help but pointed out just flipping them over would likely be enough as the tide would come in and take out the ones that were done laying eggs. 

Good point. So I just flippped and didn’t carry them back anymore. 

It was hard for me to see those crabs just laying inert upside down. Just looking like they were giving up. Likely the tide would have turned them over but I wasn’t sure. I wanted to give them a little help. A better chance. 


I would jiggle them slightly and if their legs began to work over I’d turn them. Don’t give up buddy. 

It’s how I am- I save worms. I do. I don’t like to kill bugs. I like to save them. Though the ants that were swarming my night stand the day I got home from the shore weren’t as lucky. There were too many. Kevin has a spray. So…see ya ants. 

I digress. 

I am fascinated by this love-in of the Horseshoe crab. I will be sure to get better photos next season. I love the things I learn and this time by accident. I can’t wait to learn more about the shores of the DelMarVa peninsula. 

Thanks for letting me share a little about the Horseshoe crab with you. And if you ever see one upside down feel free to give it a little help. They won’t hurt you. 

It’s just one being helping out another. 

What and amazing world we live in. A Horseshoe Crab with some hangers on. 

Oh and they have seven eyes and much of our understanding of eyes come from sturdy Horseshoe crab eyes. 
Oh and their “blood” is used in drug research. 

Oh….and you can read more by following the links below. 

Oh…and I’m done. 🙂

A quickly video I took: 

More information than you ever need about the Horseshoe Crab. 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_crab

http://flseagrant.ifas.ufl.edu/newsletter/#article/3449

Artic Tern-

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arctic_tern

A Vlog of a walk

I haven’t done a Vlog before. I thought I’d try it today on my walk on the lane. It’s not a real Vlog because I think I have to actually be in it don’t I?  My voice is in this one so I think that’s good enough to count as a Vlog. 

I have a special connection with this lane and I’ve written about it and I’ve photographed it. I’m never bored of the lane. It’s kept me going during a time where I was having a very tough time physically and mentally. 

I’m healing from surgery now and I am trying to get out and walk as much as I can. Today I decided to record part of my walk.  Maybe you can come along for a few minutes.  


During some of my walks Kevin likes to come along with me. Today he decided to combine his workout that he missed this morning with our walk. Did I mention he’s really into fitness? He used to own gyms and has been personal training part- time for years. And working out for him is akin to my walk down the lane for the mental health boost he gets. So for today’s walk he met me with two buckets of rocks. I kid you not. Rocks in buckets.   And he did the “farmers walk” for part of our walk together. I had to take pictures right? 


Remember he does farm work all the time. We joke with his clients that we could make an entire workout of farm chores called farm fitness. 

When I asked what he was doing with the buckets of rocks as he met me as I was on my walk. He told me he wanted to finish his workout that he didn’t get to complete this morning but he wanted to walk with me too.  

What a sweet multi-tasker he is. 

I love that he’s my partner in crime. 

What you do on a global warming day

I was fresh off of steroid injections from my nerve surgeon and I was having a good day. Which means low pain.  I decided to step out into some of the oddest and beautiful weather I have ever seen in February.  It was 75 degrees. 

Carrots in hand along with some goodies for the ducks and chickens I began my rounds. 

Since they’ve moved in next door I had only been over to mini-donkeys  Merle and Leona’s paddock once. So today with carrots in hand I fed them and I think we are going to be good friends. I’ve always wanted a mini donkey. Austin their human told me they plan to breed Leona soon. I can’t wait to see what a baby mini-donkey will look like. Maybe the cutest thing on the planet. 




The day was almost a little hot. Like I could have gotten away with shorts. I was a bit hot in my jeans. But thankfully there was the often present Mount Airy breeze. Ergo the town name. 

I made my way to the chicken enclosure and tossed out the squash and tomatoes. I noticed that a couple of my ducks weren’t looking well. One was looking very poorly. I’d need to have help getting her as I can’t lift anything. Three of my ducks are getting old. So seeing a couple looking a little worn isn’t a shock but I have antibiotic and some other items that could perk up the fowl. So it’s worth a try.  I’d have to wait until I could get some help so I went on my way to enjoy my visits. 

It’s not often lately that I feel well enough to spend a lot of time with my animals. But the injections were working  and I knew if I didn’t watch it I’d overdo it. I wasn’t using the arm and side that is having the pain but even using the other arm which is slowly unfreezing from frozen shoulder can cause issue. But it was a beautiful day and I was feeling almost normal for the first time in a good while. You just sometimes have to take advantage of the moment and not worry about the future. 

I went to stand at the fence not sure what I would do next. See my horses  or maybe take a walk. I had been up the night before in insomnia mode and had been thinking that I needed to begin working with my horse again. Beginning with simple grooming while tied. In this way we can work up to his getting saddled over time. He hasn’t been ridden in a while and I have left him to be a pasture horse. So getting him used to be potentially ridden again -even though I can’t ride yet and probably won’t be for a while since I’m looking at more surgery – will make it easier on him and me when the real event occurs. It’s better than tossing a saddle on him and hopping on his back after a year on what we riders sometimes call mothballs. Plus I’m hoping maybe someone will want to ride him for me.  He’s gaited so it’s like driving a shift car vs an automatic. It’s easy once you learn. 

I had a visit in the field with my horses and took the shedding blade and treats. I didn’t put Harley on his lead and tie him today but we had a nice visit.  


As I was coming out of the pasture I saw hubby Kevin on his way down to the barn. He was coming to take a work break and check the chicken feed and water. So I asked him if he would like to wrangle my sickest duck so I could see if I could help her. Duck wrangling was not on his agenda. But he’s always willing so I gathered my meds and he was able to grab her without any issue. I didn’t take photos of the actual medicine giving because I was the one giving the meds and the duck was stressed enough  with me having to get her mouth open to stick the medicine in -a photo shoot would have been too much.  

We don’t pick up the ducks often. They are more of a pod that mill about together as one entity. So when we have one up close I am always amazed at the thickness of their feathers and beauty in their beaks and eyes.  Their feet are so cool. Perfectly made to swim and to walk on land.  

Duck medicated and fingers crossed but not overly hopeful we put her back into the duck pool. A cheap Walmart pool. But a huge treat for them in the midst of winter where usually we are only filling up the heated water buckets. Watching ducks grab a swim is the best. Their appreciation and bliss is so apparent as they primp and flap their wings. It makes me happy. 

The mud puddle that the dumped dirty water from their pool makes them happy too. 


In all of my dealing with this pain I have been trying to walk everyday and once in a while I feel like I can go into our gym and I can do some leg work. Keeping strong as I can has been important. Working out has been part of my life since I first went to a gym at age 18. It’s a mind body thing for me. After being bedridden last summer I was pretty weak despite my walking almost daily -and over the last few months I have gotten stronger. But lately the pain is worse and I’m not doing as much but I’m trying. 

As I was looking out on the pasture I looked at the round pen made out of steel.  A round pen is a place where you can work a horse. It’s about five feet high. I just had the feeling I needed to climb it. Our horse pasture fence is made out of the non-maintenance plastic fencing.  Such a bad choice for horse fencing because it’s flimsy really but it was here when we moved in. It’s not something you want to climb. But steel you can climb. 

I’m not sure why climbing the round pen fence was so important to me. I have done it before – on a day where after months of cancer treatments I tried to get up on my horse and was too weak to do it. At that time my cancer side arm was frozen making pulling myself up into the saddle difficult and a shedding horse and slippery saddle made the effort even more difficult. I ended up using the mounting block to get on. No shame in that but I wanted to be strong enough to get on without it. So maybe out of anger I went over to that fence after I put my horse out in the pasture and I stood looking at that fence grabbed the cold steel and I climbed up it and it was hard -so hard- but after weeks back in the gym I went back out and climbed again and it was easier.  I was able to mount my horse without the block. I was back. 

But then last summer happened.  In pain and bedridden much if the time. 

And here I am. Not allowed to ride at all and frankly I couldn’t now. Too much pain. But on a day like yesterday I felt a little determination to climb that fence again. So out I went in my muck boots not great climbing shoes. I faced my challenge and grabbed the warm top bar  -hot from the way above average temps. I had no plan but I knew I couldn’t use my “bad”side at all. Up I started. It wasn’t pretty. A frozen shoulder -even a thawing one -doesn’t give you much leverage. But once my foot got to the third rung gravity gave up and next thing I knew I was on top of that fence. I sat there a while.  Took a video and some photos. It was so beautiful.  And I felt strong. Maybe not where I want to be physically but it’s the mental that’s most important and mentally I felt strong.  And after I got down I went up two more times. 

Just because I could.