All Is Safely Gathered In -

This fall has definitely been a time of gathering for me. I frantically filled my freezer and all of my pint and quart jars with the goods from my garden and the farmer's market - even to the point of pickling carrots! This must be the old school (or my Idaho/pioneer heritage) me that feels the need to make sure I have done all I can, and used all I have available, to make sure we are prepared for the winter. I am fulfilled by doing so - my domesticity is appeased and having a full larder/cellar/pantry gives me peace - although the preparation can be angst-filled. 

In preparing I am now comforted and full of thanks. Thankful for a garden that produced, a husband who cared for the garden, water to care for the "crops," for time to preserve, for the ability to preserve - and make it edible; grateful for space to store as well as the view of being able to cautiously open my freezer and have a variety of good to choose from - fruits from my own labors. 

Summer is a time for romping in the woods while autumn is the time to gather the wood - and as much as I love sun and romping, I love settling and find contentment in the calm, or at least resting for a season. 

Winter is not my favorite season, yet autumn gives the "job well done" sign. 

And I am filled with gratitude for being provided and being able to provide. I am grateful for the time to rest and enjoy these fruits - there are very few times in my life when I take/have the chance/opportunity to see my handiwork for longer than a moment or two. Sitting down for a dinner last night of butternut squash, beets, roasted potatoes and carrots, fresh baked bread (from the bread machine), and fried apples, with autumn jazz playing, and a warm clean home, are confirmatiosn of my work and my blessings.

Now waiting for that winter storm - 

1. 1. Come, ye thankful people, come;
   Raise the song of harvest home.
   All is safely gathered in
   Ere the winter storms begin.
   God, our Maker, doth provide
   For our wants to be supplied.
   Come to God's own temple, come;
   Raise the song of harvest home.
2. 2. All the world is God's own field,
   Fruit unto his praise to yield,
   Wheat and tares together sown,
   Unto joy or sorrow grown.
   First the blade, and then the ear,
   Then the full corn shall appear.
   Lord of harvest, grant that we
   Wholesome grain and pure may be.
3. Text: Henry Alford, 1810-1871
   Music: George J. Elvey, 1816-1893

If You Ever Hurt My Daughter -

This -  

Veteran's Day - and Fathers -

Scott's oldest daughter has a son who is serving a 2-year LDS Mission in Northern California. I do my best to write him weekly; which means I've probably written 50 letters in the past 55 weeks. I don't know this grandson well, and my goal is for us to know each other just a little better when he returns home to Florida next July.

Today I wrote about his great-grandfathers, both who served in the military. I love these men; I honor them, and my nearly-son Cortney, for their service.

I’m writing on 11/11 – do you know the importance of this date? Today, 100 years ago, WWI ended. So tomorrow, we celebrate Armistice Day. While it’s a much bigger celebration and holiday in England and Germany, it is a day to honor veterans of all wars.

Did you know your great-grandpa Weaver served in WWII as a member of the Army. He was a driver for the company commanders; when a commander found out how educated he was, the officer made Grandpa his personal driver; this probably kept Grandpa from being in some pretty unsafe areas. Grandpa served in the Philippines and in Japan. My father, Clyde Walker, served in the Korean War. He had been running the family café and motel. His leaving was tough on the family, but it was important for him to serve. He was a chef on a munitions ship during the war. He spent time on the water and in Japan. Interestingly, he helped create an LDS branch for the military in Japan, and he stayed in touch with his Navy buddies all of his life. Those connections these men made were strong bonds. Even when my father died, some of his friends and their wives came to his viewing.

Neither Grandpa served an LDS mission, yet they served their country, and then both, upon retirement served missions. Gpa and Gma Weaver in Nauvoo (where Gpa shared his love for painting and drawing), and Gpa and Gma Walker in Hawaii (where at BYU-H Gpa ran the catering and cafeteria) and the Philippines.

We live in a beautiful world – I am so grateful for Heavenly Parents who created a world that was not only functional, but also beautiful. Both grandfathers loved this world, and loved their country. They served because of this love. They remained patriotic – remembering their time served and flying the flag whenever they could. Just a few months before my father died, my nephew, Dakota, had the opportunity to go through my father’s Navy trunk, filled with his Navy gear and mementos from the time he was in Japan. Dakota could fit into my father’s Navy uniform! It was a treat for us (and my dad) to see him in that outfit and to again hear stories from my father. Sadly, Great-Gpa Weaver didn’t talk about his time in WWII. G-Gpa Weaver said once that he wasn’t made an officer because he was “shipped out” just before going to officer school. I wonder how his life would have been different if he hadn’t had an education – would he have served on the front lines? And my father, after leaving the Navy, went on to a Chef’s school in California, where he learned the business side of running a restaurant, and taking that with his cooking abilities, went home to Idaho to open three other restaurants. All because of his time served and the GI Bill that paid for his education.

Well, that’s enough family history for today. I think it’s pretty cool that two men, living across the street from each other for 35 years, both served proudly. They both loved beauty, created art, cherished their families, and were staunch believers in democracy – the freedom to make choices and the responsibility to keep their country, and families, safe.

Gabapentin - Neuropathy - Chemotherapy -

I pinched a butt-load of nerves from my left shoulder and neck down to my left hand - knuckles to finger-tips. And I hurt. I've had more than a month of nerve pain, and it has worn me down. I took Gabapentin for about 3 weeks, and I quit about a week ago. But here's what I learned while taking this medication often used for nerve pain, anxiety and depression, and sleep.

I realized I still had neuropathy, from chemo and injuries. The first few days on the medication were amazing - I didn't hurt, anywhere. My feet didn't hurt, my toes were not in fire, the tip of my tongue was not tingly, and my left hip was not shooting deep pains into my back.

I learned how sensitive I am to medication. While this helped with my nerve pain and gave me some rest, I was dizzy all the time; I felt like my head was filled with fog; I couldn't think clearly; anxiety was making me jittery, scared, and angry, and interestingly, what I thought was allergies or the beginning of a cold, because of non-stop sneezing, was a side-effect of the drug!

And so I got off, even taking a minute dose (200mg), I knew I needed to stop, immediately. Weaning off, even after only a few weeks of use, took me nearly a week - medication can have long-term side-effects. Yet since being off, those aches that I took the drug for are back, and the aches that I didn't know were aches, have not returned. Hallelujah!

My head is clear, I've calmed down, and I'm back to seeing a kind young earnest chiropractor - who is caring for my left side, one joint at a time. He's reset a dislocated shoulder (has been this way for 5.5 years, go figure), a dislocated wrist (same accident - crashing on my bike), and is trying to teach my body to not contract when there's nerve pain, but to just breathe through it and let it go. Some day that pain will be gone as well!

Letting Go -

This article from Purpose Fairy speaks to me these days. A month away from blogging (and other stuff) has given me time for some deep contemplation.

I'm letting go of a lot right now, emotionally, physically, materialistically, culturally. And it's hard work and it's freeing, and it's painful, and I'm hoping to finally find the peace I've been striving for - for years.

I'm a spiritual soul; I'm an introvert; I'm a thinker; and over and over again I realize just how much I need calm and quiet - inner and outer "hush."

1. Letting go is an inner journey.
2. Letting go feels painful.
3. Letting go brings up a lot of resistance.
4. Letting go feels lonely at times.
5. Letting go removes the veil of forgetfulness.
6. Letting go reveals the oneness of things.
7. Letting go is liberating.
8. Letting go shines light on things.
9. Letting go purifies your soul of attachments.
10. Letting go grounds you.
11. Letting go helps you to surrender.
12. Letting go helps quiet your mind.
13. Letting go reveals your true self to yourself.
14. Letting go opens your heart to true love.
15. Letting go helps you return home.

Time Off -

I'm going to take this month off in honor of those women who are dealing with breast cancer, who have won - in living and in death, by being strong, being weak, being tough, being sensitive, being true, faking it until they made it, and walking their days with their heads held high, or low, because they kept and keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

See you in November. 


(PS - I imagine several of you will lose track of me with that month of no posts. I want to thank you for your readership - you've been a great audience for venting, teaching, and learning.)

It's that Time of Year - Pinktober -

Here we go again - pink ribbons EVERYWHERE, posters and billboards and ads reminding women to have their mammograms in abundance. I even say a pickup truck decal, in pink, today saying, "Save Second Base." Seriously? That's all breasts are good for - for a partner (or #metoo) to feel them up?

And what I want to say is this;

I survived breast cancer, and I am reminded, every. single. day. that I went through surgeries, 8 chemo treatments, 33 radiation treatments, numerous days of sick leave, numerous days of low blood counts, numerous times of hydration, numerous days of NOT being able to spend time with family, friends, and numerous days of no teaching. And that was all in a 9 month period.

And since my treatments finished on April 18, 2013? Time, effort, energy, focused concentration to heal - numerous days spent just freakin' getting better. And what did I lose - I've relayed that in this blog over the years; suffice it to say, that just now are my losses and gains beginning to even out.

Yet - what about those women who lost their "boobies," "ta-ta's," "2nd bases"? And what about those women who lost their lives because of these "titties"? Or even those women who aren't in remission, or who are, but know damn well their cancer will some day, some how, be back in their lives, or that even the words pink, cancer, boob-bees, sends them into an anxiety attack, and rightfully so?

Is "My other boob about killed me," really worth joking about? Does making light of the women whose other boob did or will kill them really funny? Valid? Worthwhile? When was the last time you saw a t-shirt or a bumper sticker or a billboard on I-15 say, "Where are those family gems now?" "I lost my gonads but have my life." "Don't squeeze those balls too hard." "Save the bat and balls," or anything that in a pink-free, cancer-free world may be seen as crass and not publishable?

Would you want your life, your disease to be a commercial? Are breasts a commodity that can be bought and sold during October? Has corporate America exploited cancer for monetary gain - played on the emotions of losing a body part? And the donation percentage made to breast cancer organizations is often so miniscule as to even make this a laughable gesture (last year I saw, in the "reduced" section of a craft store, pink beads, with "A percentage of this sale will be donated to a breast cancer organization," stamp, reduced by nearly 90%). Big donation, hey!

Why does Breast Cancer Awareness Month (and beyond) get more media play than any other cancer? Sexy? Value? Monetization? Multi-gender buy-in? Perhaps valuing the woman is more important than valuing her body parts - just sayin'.

If you want to make a difference, rather than buying some cute pink thing/tool/shirt/socks in the store, donate to Living Beyond Breast Cancer or the American Breast Cancer Foundation. And - just an FYI, breast cancer research benefits all other cancers, so the funding, regardless of cancer you feel is over-looked or un-important, does benefit from breast cancer research.

And, in case you were wondering, I've written about Pinktober over and over and over again, and the links are below (pics disappeared, don't know why). Happy October!