"Five foot two and 1/2". What did you say?? The nurse repeated herself, "five foot two and 1/2". I don't believe it, I screamed inwardly. All my adult life I was certain that I was close enough to 5' 4" to claim it as my own. While standing on the scale at my BMI test and hearing this out loud I quickly ransacked my thoughts trying to remember the last time my height had actually been measured.
Growing up in our family, height was measured quite regularly. No, we didn't mark a wall with all our heights, names and dates. It just wasn't done like that. Our official measuring device was each other. Early on we kicked off our shoes and stood back to back in front of many witnesses to determine who was the king of stature. It was a contest challenged often as kids are sure each day that their height has changed. With seven of us being so close in age this process was a regular Saturday night feature that played often. When relatives gathered together the game was even more fun because they would encourage the challenge with cheers and beer, waging verbal taunts over who was gaining on whom. As we grew older, the next measure of our growth spurts were determined by my sister Nancy. Standing tall at 5' 1/2", Nancy was our marking post of progress. To this day she holds her title still as the official sign of "growing up". All the nieces and nephews love to stand up next to Aunt Nancy and peer down upon her.
I'm not sure when I began saying that I was almost 5'4" but I know I was somewhere close to Mom's height and Kate and I are nearly the same. Now I'm freaking out wondering if I have really shrunk THAT much or had only gained all this elevation in my mind trying to sound taller. Man....have I been lying to myself? The biggest ugh of this whole revelation is that I'm more overweight than I thought!
Kate?? Kate?? How tall do you say you are?
Oh my beautiful wickedness.....melting......melting
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Back it up, Lady
What a month I've had! I don't think I've complained at all so far about being in my 50's. In fact, I feel that I've embraced it quite well. But when you enter the fifth decade of your life suddenly it seems your life is in everyone else's hands. Medically, that is.
Catching up on some long overdue appointments I was given the gift of being prescribed for a mammogram, a bone density test and, to my delight, a colonoscopy. Additionally, the dentist and I have been seeing each other quite a bit lately and I think he really likes me too. Every orifice of my being has been invaded by others hands and tools as if I were their playing field. I think they relish it, really!
"Have your last meal of the day by 2:00 pm and then starting at 4:00 pm, drink this mixture until it's gone. It's not that bad really, especially if you chill it." So last Sunday there I sat facing my meal as if it were my Last Supper. In my mind I planned all kinds of gourmet meals but in reality I made chicken, salad and some kind of potato. Earlier in the day I had mixed my love potion #9 so that it would be good and chilled when it was time to drink it down. The plastic container made 4 liters. 4 LITERS!!! It was clear and looked completely harmless...this is no big deal, I thought.
After I ate, I pulled out my instructions and reviewed them to be sure I didn't miss a thing. I had plenty of clear, sugar free liquids, sugar free jello, and just in case, some clear broth on hand to get me through my little fast until the next day. On the stroke of 4:00 pm I began my regimen and poured out my first 8 ounce glass of chilled liquid cleanser. I threw my head back and tried to gulp it down but found that as it passed my teeth, my tonsils grew fingers and put out its own hands and yelled "stop" ...it wasn't enjoying the moment at all! I made it through about 6 ounces and then quickly poured a glass of diet ginger ale. This little routine went on every 15 minutes for HOURS. I could barely choke it down. What should have been over in 2 -3 hours lasted well into the evening. I didn't have to worry about being hungry. This was quite a workout and food never entered my mind or my mouth as I forced down this clear, poisonous, oil slick. The liquid did what it was supposed to do but I didn't find that nearly as offensive as drinking the stuff.
The next morning, bright and early I checked in to the hospital where I was sure they were waiting just for me. I was told to be there at 6:30 with my test scheduled for 7:30. When I arrived I expected to find a quiet area just waking up to the world but instead found that it was a regular colonoscopy celebration! We were lining up like spectators to see the baseball playoffs! Over and over I heard the rumblings of conversation with the word "colonoscopy" popping up throughout the room. My vision of all of us in a row, with our posteriors positioned appropriately was more than my mind wanted to see. Finally I was taken to my little room by a little nurse to get ready for my little adventure.
When they wheeled me into the arena, I mean surgical ward, I found that I was indeed the first one of the day. Whew!! That meant that hose would be clean! People hovered all around me as I was asked to lay on my left side and the IV was being filled with a nausea prevention medicine as well as a twilight sleeping aid. The surgeon stood behind me, positioning my behind (back it up to the end of the table, lady) and asking what a pretty young thing was doing in a place like this. Did he mean me or my behind? I'll never know! I went to sleep.
The next thing I knew someone was talking about a recipe for parmesan crusted chicken and I was being given some diet coke and a graham cracker. I saw the surgeon for a minute and he said my colon was a thing of beauty and I didn't have to repeat this performance until I'm sixty.
I can hardly wait.
Catching up on some long overdue appointments I was given the gift of being prescribed for a mammogram, a bone density test and, to my delight, a colonoscopy. Additionally, the dentist and I have been seeing each other quite a bit lately and I think he really likes me too. Every orifice of my being has been invaded by others hands and tools as if I were their playing field. I think they relish it, really!
"Have your last meal of the day by 2:00 pm and then starting at 4:00 pm, drink this mixture until it's gone. It's not that bad really, especially if you chill it." So last Sunday there I sat facing my meal as if it were my Last Supper. In my mind I planned all kinds of gourmet meals but in reality I made chicken, salad and some kind of potato. Earlier in the day I had mixed my love potion #9 so that it would be good and chilled when it was time to drink it down. The plastic container made 4 liters. 4 LITERS!!! It was clear and looked completely harmless...this is no big deal, I thought.
After I ate, I pulled out my instructions and reviewed them to be sure I didn't miss a thing. I had plenty of clear, sugar free liquids, sugar free jello, and just in case, some clear broth on hand to get me through my little fast until the next day. On the stroke of 4:00 pm I began my regimen and poured out my first 8 ounce glass of chilled liquid cleanser. I threw my head back and tried to gulp it down but found that as it passed my teeth, my tonsils grew fingers and put out its own hands and yelled "stop" ...it wasn't enjoying the moment at all! I made it through about 6 ounces and then quickly poured a glass of diet ginger ale. This little routine went on every 15 minutes for HOURS. I could barely choke it down. What should have been over in 2 -3 hours lasted well into the evening. I didn't have to worry about being hungry. This was quite a workout and food never entered my mind or my mouth as I forced down this clear, poisonous, oil slick. The liquid did what it was supposed to do but I didn't find that nearly as offensive as drinking the stuff.
The next morning, bright and early I checked in to the hospital where I was sure they were waiting just for me. I was told to be there at 6:30 with my test scheduled for 7:30. When I arrived I expected to find a quiet area just waking up to the world but instead found that it was a regular colonoscopy celebration! We were lining up like spectators to see the baseball playoffs! Over and over I heard the rumblings of conversation with the word "colonoscopy" popping up throughout the room. My vision of all of us in a row, with our posteriors positioned appropriately was more than my mind wanted to see. Finally I was taken to my little room by a little nurse to get ready for my little adventure.
When they wheeled me into the arena, I mean surgical ward, I found that I was indeed the first one of the day. Whew!! That meant that hose would be clean! People hovered all around me as I was asked to lay on my left side and the IV was being filled with a nausea prevention medicine as well as a twilight sleeping aid. The surgeon stood behind me, positioning my behind (back it up to the end of the table, lady) and asking what a pretty young thing was doing in a place like this. Did he mean me or my behind? I'll never know! I went to sleep.
The next thing I knew someone was talking about a recipe for parmesan crusted chicken and I was being given some diet coke and a graham cracker. I saw the surgeon for a minute and he said my colon was a thing of beauty and I didn't have to repeat this performance until I'm sixty.
I can hardly wait.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Flushed and Fuming....
I should have known when the electric percolator (yes, an old fashioned percolator) wouldn't perk my coffee this morning that it was going to be a "day". My trusty vehicle and I were on our way for an oil change, flushes and filter changes. My maintenance was WAY overdue on my '93 van and so I had the best intentions today to treat her right. I set out extra early before work just for the occasion.
I pulled up and went right into the stall and "my oil tech" went about his business. I was having the deluxe version which would cost me more than I originally planned to spend but when my tech showed me my power steering fluid and my totally grungy air filter I knew I had to give her some TLC. Why, I even sprung for new wiper blades! My radar was up as I was keeping an eye on the clock and my tech told me I would be out in 15 minutes. No problem! My tech also lay the new wiper blades on the windshield over the appropriate arm blades and would change them once everything else was completed and he could close the hood.
As my tech began to wrap things up and check all the fluids he asked me to go ahead and start the car. I turned the key with a flair ready to rejoice in the new energy she would have and heard nothing but a "click". Everyone stopped and looked as he asked me to try again. "Click". From where I sat I could see the hands of my tech fingering over all the surfaces quickly as if he was thinking "this can't be happening". Meanwhile, he asked me again to try and start the car and "click" echoed throughout the stall. I'm not sure if it was my temper or bile beginning to rise but something just wasn't feeling right as I sat in my van sure that my composure appeared intact. My tech's boss came over and ran his fingertips all over the engine area again as a blind man would speed read braille. He peeked out at me from behind the hood and asked me how old my battery was. I replied that it had been replaced about 1 to 2 years ago. He said "well they aren't making them like they used to" and I most likely needed a new battery or possibly a starter.
"WHAT???" When I drove in here she was perfectly fine!
Now, up until that point I felt that I was being quite patient and genteel. Suddenly I was hissing like a cat and spatting with tech boss. Oh the redhead that lives in me! He hissed back that they didn't touch or do anything that would be part of the engine problem that my van was experiencing. All I know is she was flushed and I was fuming. Tech boss and I retreated to our mutual corners without moving a muscle. My tech and Tech boss continued to try to figure out how they were going to get me out of their bay and I was just as quickly on the phone to my office to let them know of my little dilemma and that I wasn't sure if I'd be late or out all day. During my conversation, tech boss called someone else and the next thing I knew another tech guy from across the street was checking under the hood and turning the key several times quickly and determined the problem to be the starter. Suddenly with a quick key turn the car started and I was more than relieved. My tech pleasantly continued to go about getting my van done as quickly as possible as other trusting souls were lining up waiting for a flush. I could see tech boss giving him the look to get me out! Finally, my tech set me free and suggested that I go across the street where the starter man would look at my engine, make recommendations and also give me a little discount for the possible replacement of my starter.
I quickly pulled forward to exit but I couldn't go directly across the street. The exit required me to turn right, go down the street a piece and turn around so that I could enter the driveway on the opposite side. As I proceeded to try and maneuver through all these frustrations I made a turn and suddenly the new wiper blades went flying across the road! My tech never put them on! In the commotion and urgency to get the fuming redhead out, he forgot to swap the blades.
To close this long and drawn out escapade, suffice it to say that later that day my tech, tech boss and I all had a conversation in which I apologized for spewing at them in my frustration. As I made my apology I explained that I was new in the area and all I could see were dollar bills flying out of my wallet. Tech boss said he was sorry too and asked me to accept his apology as he realized he was a bit short with me too. He also said that they were my guys for any work or recommendations for future work needing to be done.
All being said and done, I have a happy van that was flushed, I quit fuming and I HAVE GUYS!!
Who could ask for anything more?
I pulled up and went right into the stall and "my oil tech" went about his business. I was having the deluxe version which would cost me more than I originally planned to spend but when my tech showed me my power steering fluid and my totally grungy air filter I knew I had to give her some TLC. Why, I even sprung for new wiper blades! My radar was up as I was keeping an eye on the clock and my tech told me I would be out in 15 minutes. No problem! My tech also lay the new wiper blades on the windshield over the appropriate arm blades and would change them once everything else was completed and he could close the hood.
As my tech began to wrap things up and check all the fluids he asked me to go ahead and start the car. I turned the key with a flair ready to rejoice in the new energy she would have and heard nothing but a "click". Everyone stopped and looked as he asked me to try again. "Click". From where I sat I could see the hands of my tech fingering over all the surfaces quickly as if he was thinking "this can't be happening". Meanwhile, he asked me again to try and start the car and "click" echoed throughout the stall. I'm not sure if it was my temper or bile beginning to rise but something just wasn't feeling right as I sat in my van sure that my composure appeared intact. My tech's boss came over and ran his fingertips all over the engine area again as a blind man would speed read braille. He peeked out at me from behind the hood and asked me how old my battery was. I replied that it had been replaced about 1 to 2 years ago. He said "well they aren't making them like they used to" and I most likely needed a new battery or possibly a starter.
"WHAT???" When I drove in here she was perfectly fine!
Now, up until that point I felt that I was being quite patient and genteel. Suddenly I was hissing like a cat and spatting with tech boss. Oh the redhead that lives in me! He hissed back that they didn't touch or do anything that would be part of the engine problem that my van was experiencing. All I know is she was flushed and I was fuming. Tech boss and I retreated to our mutual corners without moving a muscle. My tech and Tech boss continued to try to figure out how they were going to get me out of their bay and I was just as quickly on the phone to my office to let them know of my little dilemma and that I wasn't sure if I'd be late or out all day. During my conversation, tech boss called someone else and the next thing I knew another tech guy from across the street was checking under the hood and turning the key several times quickly and determined the problem to be the starter. Suddenly with a quick key turn the car started and I was more than relieved. My tech pleasantly continued to go about getting my van done as quickly as possible as other trusting souls were lining up waiting for a flush. I could see tech boss giving him the look to get me out! Finally, my tech set me free and suggested that I go across the street where the starter man would look at my engine, make recommendations and also give me a little discount for the possible replacement of my starter.
I quickly pulled forward to exit but I couldn't go directly across the street. The exit required me to turn right, go down the street a piece and turn around so that I could enter the driveway on the opposite side. As I proceeded to try and maneuver through all these frustrations I made a turn and suddenly the new wiper blades went flying across the road! My tech never put them on! In the commotion and urgency to get the fuming redhead out, he forgot to swap the blades.
To close this long and drawn out escapade, suffice it to say that later that day my tech, tech boss and I all had a conversation in which I apologized for spewing at them in my frustration. As I made my apology I explained that I was new in the area and all I could see were dollar bills flying out of my wallet. Tech boss said he was sorry too and asked me to accept his apology as he realized he was a bit short with me too. He also said that they were my guys for any work or recommendations for future work needing to be done.
All being said and done, I have a happy van that was flushed, I quit fuming and I HAVE GUYS!!
Who could ask for anything more?
Friday, May 04, 2007
Soul Searching....
Dashing and dodging the other drivers made me groan inside and chastise myself for not getting out an hour earlier. I'm always amazed on the weekends when traffic can be just as brutal as during the week. Many drivers are darting around those who paused for the best spot. Still other drivers find a spot to claim long before necessary and aren't about to yield. Since the spring weather is upon us sounds of crying children and barking dogs loft about. The only absent noise are blasting horns, though I'm sure some drivers wished they had them.
Yes, this was another typical weekend morning at the laundry mat. Everyone is vying for the best machine in the lineup, even though they are all identical. Carts are crashed about by some drivers while others leave their carts abandoned in the middle of the lanes never looking back
Lately I've been frequenting the laundry mat in my town while I await some work needing to be done at home. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a book I try hard to concentrate on my words whilst ignoring the commotion around me. It's nearly impossible. Many little children are frequent guests at this laundry mat and are quick to share a smile or do some little antic in hopes of gaining an audience. I never let them down. Then there are the sweet little ones who clearly don't want to be there. Often they are under one year and they are unhappy as can be, crying with such fervor caring not who they may be disturbing. What alarms me most are the parents yelling at these tykes who aren't old enough to understand that not everyone is eager to hear their next new word, or what present they left in the bathroom, or observing their temperament in action. When did "shut up" become a parenting skill used to soothe a crying child?
Everywhere you go, people are people. You see them as they are whether it be in a formal setting or a casual encounter. Our character comes through especially in the mundane tasks of our day. How we are with a shopping cart, laundry cart or vehicle indicates what we are like in other aspects of our living. Do we let others go first once in a while or are we sure we need to be at our "spot" before someone else might get it? In our effort to do things quickly do we snap at everyone else around us?
Who's watching us while we watch the others? What would they say about me?
Does Decluttering cause soul searching??
Yes, this was another typical weekend morning at the laundry mat. Everyone is vying for the best machine in the lineup, even though they are all identical. Carts are crashed about by some drivers while others leave their carts abandoned in the middle of the lanes never looking back
Lately I've been frequenting the laundry mat in my town while I await some work needing to be done at home. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a book I try hard to concentrate on my words whilst ignoring the commotion around me. It's nearly impossible. Many little children are frequent guests at this laundry mat and are quick to share a smile or do some little antic in hopes of gaining an audience. I never let them down. Then there are the sweet little ones who clearly don't want to be there. Often they are under one year and they are unhappy as can be, crying with such fervor caring not who they may be disturbing. What alarms me most are the parents yelling at these tykes who aren't old enough to understand that not everyone is eager to hear their next new word, or what present they left in the bathroom, or observing their temperament in action. When did "shut up" become a parenting skill used to soothe a crying child?
Everywhere you go, people are people. You see them as they are whether it be in a formal setting or a casual encounter. Our character comes through especially in the mundane tasks of our day. How we are with a shopping cart, laundry cart or vehicle indicates what we are like in other aspects of our living. Do we let others go first once in a while or are we sure we need to be at our "spot" before someone else might get it? In our effort to do things quickly do we snap at everyone else around us?
Who's watching us while we watch the others? What would they say about me?
Does Decluttering cause soul searching??
Friday, April 27, 2007
I WANT MY MOMMY!!
Do you ever feel that way? My beloved mom was set free from this earth nearly four years ago and not a day goes by that I don't think of her. I recall the exact moment and place I stood at my mother's funeral when my Uncle Jim said "you will think of your mother every day." So far, he's been right. She visits my dreams and smiles. I'm so glad because the last few years of her life were spent trapped in a body that refused to do what the brain instructed. So now I have only the memories I choose to cherish as my own. However one of the blessings of having eight siblings is that others have cherished memories of their own too and we get to share them between us. At times it's a "mommapalooza" of fun. Other times it's a melancholy moment of quiet. No matter which, there is always a longing to share something with Mom physically and personally that leaves me a bit saddened.
Missing Mom is sort of like being at the ocean where the waves rise and fall. The last twelve months have personally been fraught with emotional battles that would be off the stress charts if tallied. The waves roll and seem to gain volume and power with each approach. Beautiful as these waves appear they also spew remains of debris and smelly dead things on the smooth sand. Once the seas pull back, it seems you have just enough time to catch your breath for the next momentous crash. On and on it goes until the water has churned up all the poison that has been brewing and gurgling below, preventing that serene calm that draws us to the edge of the sand. During the rise and fall of these waves in my life, I've thought of Mom more than ever.
How fun it would have been for her to become a great-grandmother when Kenzie Rose was born! We would have been in the grandparent club together that growing older usually allows. I've had so many mental conversations with Mom about life's greatest joy and am a little saddened that Kenzie won't know her as my sons knew their great-grandmothers. I've also missed Mom simply for the cherished chats that Mothers and Daughters share. Our chats were soothing to my soul and I thought they would go on for years. How comforting it was for me when she would listen and sometimes not say much of anything about that particular situation yet knowing she pondered and held my concerns close to her heart. She was my harbor in the storm......
I want my mommy.
Missing Mom is sort of like being at the ocean where the waves rise and fall. The last twelve months have personally been fraught with emotional battles that would be off the stress charts if tallied. The waves roll and seem to gain volume and power with each approach. Beautiful as these waves appear they also spew remains of debris and smelly dead things on the smooth sand. Once the seas pull back, it seems you have just enough time to catch your breath for the next momentous crash. On and on it goes until the water has churned up all the poison that has been brewing and gurgling below, preventing that serene calm that draws us to the edge of the sand. During the rise and fall of these waves in my life, I've thought of Mom more than ever.
How fun it would have been for her to become a great-grandmother when Kenzie Rose was born! We would have been in the grandparent club together that growing older usually allows. I've had so many mental conversations with Mom about life's greatest joy and am a little saddened that Kenzie won't know her as my sons knew their great-grandmothers. I've also missed Mom simply for the cherished chats that Mothers and Daughters share. Our chats were soothing to my soul and I thought they would go on for years. How comforting it was for me when she would listen and sometimes not say much of anything about that particular situation yet knowing she pondered and held my concerns close to her heart. She was my harbor in the storm......
I want my mommy.
Friday, March 23, 2007
DePain of DeClutter
A passion for writing has prompted me to sign up for a 90 day course with a writing coach in hopes of making my dream of writing professionally a reality. This past Monday nearly twenty aspiring writers met online for the first time for a teleseminar and introduction to the next ninety days of our writing futures.
Our instructor has given us a list of things to do, one of which is to "declutter". Huh????
Clutter is my happy place! I've moved so much over the past thirty years that I've moved with my clutter, neatly in boxes from place to place. Now I have to actually go through them and make sense of my self? Order in my life?? I don't know about this!
Depain of decluttering is what kept me here for all these years. Decluttering is about more than clearing out a box or two. Why, in my case, it means decluttering my thoughts first. My mind is fairly creative, this I know. However, it's bogged down with thoughts of "where'd I put that bill?" or "what's the date of that get-together?" Eventually I find my calendar and the bill I'm looking for and they are usually in the general area of where I thought they were. It's systematic in my way of thinking. Yet there's still more to it than that.....living in my cluttered space and mind allows me to be prevented from being what I can be but am afraid to believe about myself. It's my safe place but at the same time it's my personal prison. It's made me look at others and wonder how they accomplished all they have and what traits they have that I don't. It's lied to me!
Sooooooooo....to begin my week of declutter I took a step and joined Weight Watchers! While these two things may not seem to have any connection they are totally related. My mind has been cluttered for years about getting my weight under control and living a freer life not worrying about my weight, my health and appearance. I've only taken the first step but it's already giving me a sense of freedom. Not that it will be a perfect roadtrip, but taking this step means I'm making a change in my thinking and have eliminated one chunk of guilt regarding my lifestyle. If you've never battled weight you may not know the amount of time and energy these thoughts have consumed, but if you've battled any type of addiction in your life and wanted to change it then you know exactly of where I speak. This week I've taken two major steps. One, is taking my writing seriously and to another level, and two is taking better care of me by taking control of the food in my life. Whew! What an exhilirating week I've had!!
I will keep you posted on my process of decluttering my life. This will give me about another 30 years worth of writing!
Till next time!
Our instructor has given us a list of things to do, one of which is to "declutter". Huh????
Clutter is my happy place! I've moved so much over the past thirty years that I've moved with my clutter, neatly in boxes from place to place. Now I have to actually go through them and make sense of my self? Order in my life?? I don't know about this!
Depain of decluttering is what kept me here for all these years. Decluttering is about more than clearing out a box or two. Why, in my case, it means decluttering my thoughts first. My mind is fairly creative, this I know. However, it's bogged down with thoughts of "where'd I put that bill?" or "what's the date of that get-together?" Eventually I find my calendar and the bill I'm looking for and they are usually in the general area of where I thought they were. It's systematic in my way of thinking. Yet there's still more to it than that.....living in my cluttered space and mind allows me to be prevented from being what I can be but am afraid to believe about myself. It's my safe place but at the same time it's my personal prison. It's made me look at others and wonder how they accomplished all they have and what traits they have that I don't. It's lied to me!
Sooooooooo....to begin my week of declutter I took a step and joined Weight Watchers! While these two things may not seem to have any connection they are totally related. My mind has been cluttered for years about getting my weight under control and living a freer life not worrying about my weight, my health and appearance. I've only taken the first step but it's already giving me a sense of freedom. Not that it will be a perfect roadtrip, but taking this step means I'm making a change in my thinking and have eliminated one chunk of guilt regarding my lifestyle. If you've never battled weight you may not know the amount of time and energy these thoughts have consumed, but if you've battled any type of addiction in your life and wanted to change it then you know exactly of where I speak. This week I've taken two major steps. One, is taking my writing seriously and to another level, and two is taking better care of me by taking control of the food in my life. Whew! What an exhilirating week I've had!!
I will keep you posted on my process of decluttering my life. This will give me about another 30 years worth of writing!
Till next time!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Ahem....please indulge me.....
It takes over......you have no control whatsoever. The world revolves around a 7lb living beanie baby and we all bow. It just keeps happening!
Kenzie Rose, the prettiest granddaughter ever born, changed my life forever on December 23rd, 2006. She entered the world on the day of our "family" Christmas party and brought the most Joy we've had in a long time. I'm smitten beyond normal. It's a very familiar smitting I must say since I was smitten 28 years ago with her father. I think smitten is just as intense as any other addiction except its fairly harmless. Annoying to others maybe, but harmless in the long run.
Now, as I've been all my life, I'm not a techno gadget girl. I'm still not sure what the huge draw to an IPOD is and I'm beginning to sound like my dad when I ask someone to show me how to use the remote. Arggggghhhhh!! So it goes with cameras too. I have never taken a lot of pictures and have mostly used throwaway cameras. But now things simply must change. I want a digital camera and ask everyone I see using one all about the pros and cons of their camera. Otherwise, I will forever be forcing everyone to look at my cell phone photos of "baby girl" as I call her often.
That action brings up a memory of hauling around a small hand held viewer and loads of slides...of a certain little boy. Marie Barone has nothing on me!!
Here she is....
Gotta love her!
Kenzie Rose, the prettiest granddaughter ever born, changed my life forever on December 23rd, 2006. She entered the world on the day of our "family" Christmas party and brought the most Joy we've had in a long time. I'm smitten beyond normal. It's a very familiar smitting I must say since I was smitten 28 years ago with her father. I think smitten is just as intense as any other addiction except its fairly harmless. Annoying to others maybe, but harmless in the long run.
Now, as I've been all my life, I'm not a techno gadget girl. I'm still not sure what the huge draw to an IPOD is and I'm beginning to sound like my dad when I ask someone to show me how to use the remote. Arggggghhhhh!! So it goes with cameras too. I have never taken a lot of pictures and have mostly used throwaway cameras. But now things simply must change. I want a digital camera and ask everyone I see using one all about the pros and cons of their camera. Otherwise, I will forever be forcing everyone to look at my cell phone photos of "baby girl" as I call her often.
That action brings up a memory of hauling around a small hand held viewer and loads of slides...of a certain little boy. Marie Barone has nothing on me!!
Here she is....
Gotta love her!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)