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My sister came to visit. My brother called and we talked for awhile. I hugged my husband, listened to my son, and laughed with my daughter. Family - covered.
Ran an errand with my best friend Nan, who drove since I was too wimpy and she likes to help. Visited with my best friend, Leslie, who lives up the street and came over. (Yes, one can have two best friends.)
Later this week I get to see my chemo nurses. No, no chemo, but the monthly testing resumes in a few days. Much as I hate that part, I'm looking forward to seeing gentlewomen who have been with me for so long. It's their job, but they do care.
I'm home every day alone, and it should be boring, but it's not. Finding dust bunnies is boring, but since I rarely clean, who cares? Finding a long lost pin is NOT boring. Coming across books that I didn't even know we had - not boring. Reading (for the 1st time!) "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" - so not boring. Now I'm reading all the other works of Sam Clemens/Mark Twain. I feel 16, full of adventure and curiosity. Exchanging e-mails with friends from the 60's and daughters of friends from the 80's - thrilling!
I keep thinking that my life should be so boring during this recovery, but it's not! I have no job. I rarely go anywhere due to pain. But, it's NOT boring. My mind is full at all times. Unless I'm sleeping, which does happen.
Now, must get a sonogram to find out why I'm in excruciating pain. Every night. Intestinal blockage? We'll soon know. Not eating is not the way I want to spend this coming Spring. That I never really learned how to be bored is good.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Talk, talk, talk...
I love to write, but I like to talk.
With friends and family mostly, but on occasion, I'll talk to people I don't know. That happened yesterday. Don't get me wrong...they asked me to talk to them. As in, I "gave a talk" at a local church yesterday afternoon. The pastor had invited me to come and talk to a women's group about "Don't Waste the Pain".
Since I was actually IN a lot of pain, it seemed the thing to do. (Side note: the ongoing pain of this ridiculously slow recovery is, yes, still torturing me daily.) However, if I keep busy enough, I can get through it without much effort. Distractions are welcome. Hint, hint.
My friend Leslie introduced me. Well, not me exactly, but someone I'd have loved to listen to myself. She made me sound great! (Leslie and I love each other, so it wasn't really a surprise to hear her gracious words.) So I got up and said, "Well, that Linda couldn't make it, so I came instead."
Then I talked about the book I wrote with David, discussing pain and how we get through it. Not having any option is one good way. And I've had few viable options the past ten years. Still, the pain has led to so many wonderful things, that it's almost... no, it's definitely been worth it.
You never know when something horrid is going to directly lead to something wonderful, maybe something that actually saves your life. I had a customer once who knew I had ovarian cancer. She told me this story: She was in a terrible auto accident. Many bones were broken; she suffered much pain and her car was totaled. BUT, during her surgery, the docs discovered extensive ovarian cancer in her body. They quickly changed course and operated on her as a cancer patient.
Her bones healed but even better, she was saved from a cancer she didn't even know was there. She lived to tell the story. Her awesome words to me were, "That horrid accident saved my life." I could certainly understand her attitude.
In some ways, my cancer saved my life too. I was not on a good path when it struck. I was not following the Lord in any certain way, and I was falling into a period of deep depression. The cancer and the support of Steve and all who loved me was what turned my life around. Yeah, the cancer saved my life.
Don't look at the bad or horrid things that come into your life as in and of themselves simply being horrid. Maybe they're just there as a precursor to things that would not otherwise happen. Wait. Live. Look around. And perhaps you'll see the blessings that come out of disaster and pain. It sure worked for me.
With friends and family mostly, but on occasion, I'll talk to people I don't know. That happened yesterday. Don't get me wrong...they asked me to talk to them. As in, I "gave a talk" at a local church yesterday afternoon. The pastor had invited me to come and talk to a women's group about "Don't Waste the Pain".
Since I was actually IN a lot of pain, it seemed the thing to do. (Side note: the ongoing pain of this ridiculously slow recovery is, yes, still torturing me daily.) However, if I keep busy enough, I can get through it without much effort. Distractions are welcome. Hint, hint.
My friend Leslie introduced me. Well, not me exactly, but someone I'd have loved to listen to myself. She made me sound great! (Leslie and I love each other, so it wasn't really a surprise to hear her gracious words.) So I got up and said, "Well, that Linda couldn't make it, so I came instead."
Then I talked about the book I wrote with David, discussing pain and how we get through it. Not having any option is one good way. And I've had few viable options the past ten years. Still, the pain has led to so many wonderful things, that it's almost... no, it's definitely been worth it.
You never know when something horrid is going to directly lead to something wonderful, maybe something that actually saves your life. I had a customer once who knew I had ovarian cancer. She told me this story: She was in a terrible auto accident. Many bones were broken; she suffered much pain and her car was totaled. BUT, during her surgery, the docs discovered extensive ovarian cancer in her body. They quickly changed course and operated on her as a cancer patient.
Her bones healed but even better, she was saved from a cancer she didn't even know was there. She lived to tell the story. Her awesome words to me were, "That horrid accident saved my life." I could certainly understand her attitude.
In some ways, my cancer saved my life too. I was not on a good path when it struck. I was not following the Lord in any certain way, and I was falling into a period of deep depression. The cancer and the support of Steve and all who loved me was what turned my life around. Yeah, the cancer saved my life.
Don't look at the bad or horrid things that come into your life as in and of themselves simply being horrid. Maybe they're just there as a precursor to things that would not otherwise happen. Wait. Live. Look around. And perhaps you'll see the blessings that come out of disaster and pain. It sure worked for me.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Past...It Haunts Me
How much do you know about your own life? Your own past? I mean really. How much are you even aware of?
Want to know what I know about my own life? Well, here goes. Ten years ago when I first had cancer, friends whom we'd known for years but were not seeing on a regular basis anymore, had four young children. Our friends came to a point in their lives where they wanted to teach their young ones about prayer.
So, they had those kids begin to pray for Miss Linda, every night. Four young children who barely knew me, and would still not know me on the street today. And as they prayed, I went into remission. I had no idea of their prayers until recently. Those kids would not forget that they prayed, and God answered. Today, each one is a Believer. And me? I'm grateful for their prayers, I'm grateful for God's answer.
Now this: 41 years ago, (yes, 41) I knew a girl named Terri. We graduated, moved on, had families, lived our lives. Through a series of events that are too complicated to explain here, we are now in touch via Facebook. She referenced a memory unknown to me that really touched me, and I shared one memory unknown to her that moved her. Now she wants to share a pain that haunted her years ago, something I'd known about. She knows that I am the one person on earth who could identify with that long ago pain. Someone she loved died. Someone I loved died. It was the same young man, but it was her young man. My pain healed over time but it changed me; hers apparently never was completely healed. Maybe I can help.
So Terri and I will write again, perhaps even talk someday. We live over a thousand miles apart. We are unlikely to ever meet again. Yet, there is something that binds us. Healing can come.
And this: I wrote a "fan" letter to an author I admire. Three weeks later now, she has written back, we have learned we are both Believers, both writers, both have young sons with Asperger's, and her best friend has cancer, just like I do. I don't even know if I could find it on a map, but I now have a friend, one I'll also surely never meet who lives in UAE. Yeah, find that on the map. Trust me, I definitely plan to read her other books now! And I can always meet her in heaven. I'm sure we'll know who the other is on sight.
And finally this: Steve and I had a friend we loved who died @ 25 years ago. We loved her. She left behind 2 little daughters and a husband. Her brothers have remained our friends over time, but the little girls and their Dad had drifted from our life. Until lately. Again, without explaining how, I have reconnected with one daughter. She is now in her early 30's, and we have begun to correspond. I adore her wit and humor. I might never meet her or her own young children, but I can know her through our shared words.
Today, I'd almost call her my friend, sight unseen. If Catherine had known that one day her friend Linda might be friends with her own precious daughter, she would have praised God for that joy. But I praise Him myself, because it brings a woman I loved back, in some tiny way. And what a joy to meet and grow to know the woman this orphaned child has grown into.
My God, the internet has brought me such happiness and surprise this week. This blasted computer has actually made my life richer. Whodathunk? My painful past...the haunting is lessened. Reality is here.
Want to know what I know about my own life? Well, here goes. Ten years ago when I first had cancer, friends whom we'd known for years but were not seeing on a regular basis anymore, had four young children. Our friends came to a point in their lives where they wanted to teach their young ones about prayer.
So, they had those kids begin to pray for Miss Linda, every night. Four young children who barely knew me, and would still not know me on the street today. And as they prayed, I went into remission. I had no idea of their prayers until recently. Those kids would not forget that they prayed, and God answered. Today, each one is a Believer. And me? I'm grateful for their prayers, I'm grateful for God's answer.
Now this: 41 years ago, (yes, 41) I knew a girl named Terri. We graduated, moved on, had families, lived our lives. Through a series of events that are too complicated to explain here, we are now in touch via Facebook. She referenced a memory unknown to me that really touched me, and I shared one memory unknown to her that moved her. Now she wants to share a pain that haunted her years ago, something I'd known about. She knows that I am the one person on earth who could identify with that long ago pain. Someone she loved died. Someone I loved died. It was the same young man, but it was her young man. My pain healed over time but it changed me; hers apparently never was completely healed. Maybe I can help.
So Terri and I will write again, perhaps even talk someday. We live over a thousand miles apart. We are unlikely to ever meet again. Yet, there is something that binds us. Healing can come.
And this: I wrote a "fan" letter to an author I admire. Three weeks later now, she has written back, we have learned we are both Believers, both writers, both have young sons with Asperger's, and her best friend has cancer, just like I do. I don't even know if I could find it on a map, but I now have a friend, one I'll also surely never meet who lives in UAE. Yeah, find that on the map. Trust me, I definitely plan to read her other books now! And I can always meet her in heaven. I'm sure we'll know who the other is on sight.
And finally this: Steve and I had a friend we loved who died @ 25 years ago. We loved her. She left behind 2 little daughters and a husband. Her brothers have remained our friends over time, but the little girls and their Dad had drifted from our life. Until lately. Again, without explaining how, I have reconnected with one daughter. She is now in her early 30's, and we have begun to correspond. I adore her wit and humor. I might never meet her or her own young children, but I can know her through our shared words.
Today, I'd almost call her my friend, sight unseen. If Catherine had known that one day her friend Linda might be friends with her own precious daughter, she would have praised God for that joy. But I praise Him myself, because it brings a woman I loved back, in some tiny way. And what a joy to meet and grow to know the woman this orphaned child has grown into.
My God, the internet has brought me such happiness and surprise this week. This blasted computer has actually made my life richer. Whodathunk? My painful past...the haunting is lessened. Reality is here.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Write? Right!
How many letters did you hand write to your friends last year? Last decade? I'll bet you can count them on one hand. Maybe even with fists closed, indicating zero.
When I left home for college in 1968, I got lonely, so I wrote letters to friends back in Ohio. They were long, funny, descriptive letters about my life, life in general, to practically anyone whose address I could find. And they were funny. People wrote back and that was great, since tons of letters came to my lonely apartment. Eventually I got busier with classes and new friends, so in time the writing subsided. But it didn't end.
One day I sent a letter home in an envelope that said only:
To the father of the daughter who lives in Maryland
Perry, Ohio
No name, no street address, no zip code. And he got it. I'm from a very small town.
I learned who my Dad was through letters. Of course I wrote home all the time, as long distance was still too expensive for a college student on aid, and email didn't exist. I wince recalling how isolated from my folks I was. Yet, probably due to that ongoing separation, Mom and Dad both wrote back often. In fact, getting letters from my Dad was a complete surprise, especially in that they were so long and wonderful. I really met him on those pages and was close to him the rest of his life because of a communication that had never existed in face to face contact.
What did you discuss with your son or daughter last week via phone? Can you recall? Okay, pick up a letter written by them five years ago and you'll remember exactly what was on their hearts. Today I can go to my closet, pull out a box, and relive 20 years of my life, my Mom's thoughts, my Dad's concern and advice. I can laugh again, even cry again. What a treasure.
I'll admit that today's letters are fewer, but not abandoned. It's also true that email is, in a way, a great substitute. Save your emails and you can reread every word shared. But good luck finding those rare and special letters amidst all the other crap on there.
Besides, most of your communication is probably via phone, and not your home phone either, but your cell phone. Remember home phones? My home phone in Ohio was 259-3471. How do I even know that?! It hasn't been my number for over 40 years!! I can't tell you what my number was ten years ago, but I'll never forget my Ohio phone number. It seems to be in my head forever.
Of course, without letters, you cannot rest your eyes on your now deceased Mom's unique handwriting and almost feel her there with you. You can't see the silly little drawings she sometimes added. You can't hold the delicate stationery you gave her close to your heart. You can't literally touch what she touched. It's just not the same.
So, here I sit at my computer, writing. I don't even know who reads this, let alone what your addresses are. Life changes and it's not all bad. Just get some damn paper and write a letter to someone you love. Imagine how great it will feel when you get a letter back, one you can hold in your hands, smell and savor. One that took the writer some time and extra effort to do for you. It will be worth it.
When I left home for college in 1968, I got lonely, so I wrote letters to friends back in Ohio. They were long, funny, descriptive letters about my life, life in general, to practically anyone whose address I could find. And they were funny. People wrote back and that was great, since tons of letters came to my lonely apartment. Eventually I got busier with classes and new friends, so in time the writing subsided. But it didn't end.
One day I sent a letter home in an envelope that said only:
To the father of the daughter who lives in Maryland
Perry, Ohio
No name, no street address, no zip code. And he got it. I'm from a very small town.
I learned who my Dad was through letters. Of course I wrote home all the time, as long distance was still too expensive for a college student on aid, and email didn't exist. I wince recalling how isolated from my folks I was. Yet, probably due to that ongoing separation, Mom and Dad both wrote back often. In fact, getting letters from my Dad was a complete surprise, especially in that they were so long and wonderful. I really met him on those pages and was close to him the rest of his life because of a communication that had never existed in face to face contact.
What did you discuss with your son or daughter last week via phone? Can you recall? Okay, pick up a letter written by them five years ago and you'll remember exactly what was on their hearts. Today I can go to my closet, pull out a box, and relive 20 years of my life, my Mom's thoughts, my Dad's concern and advice. I can laugh again, even cry again. What a treasure.
I'll admit that today's letters are fewer, but not abandoned. It's also true that email is, in a way, a great substitute. Save your emails and you can reread every word shared. But good luck finding those rare and special letters amidst all the other crap on there.
Besides, most of your communication is probably via phone, and not your home phone either, but your cell phone. Remember home phones? My home phone in Ohio was 259-3471. How do I even know that?! It hasn't been my number for over 40 years!! I can't tell you what my number was ten years ago, but I'll never forget my Ohio phone number. It seems to be in my head forever.
Of course, without letters, you cannot rest your eyes on your now deceased Mom's unique handwriting and almost feel her there with you. You can't see the silly little drawings she sometimes added. You can't hold the delicate stationery you gave her close to your heart. You can't literally touch what she touched. It's just not the same.
So, here I sit at my computer, writing. I don't even know who reads this, let alone what your addresses are. Life changes and it's not all bad. Just get some damn paper and write a letter to someone you love. Imagine how great it will feel when you get a letter back, one you can hold in your hands, smell and savor. One that took the writer some time and extra effort to do for you. It will be worth it.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Good Enough
January is the longest month of the year. Yes, it's only 31 days, but each day is about 40 hours long. At least, it feels like it. It's not sunny. I was sleeping 12 hours a day, but that's dropped lately to about 5 hours a day. Make that night. The rest of the time I'm just totally exhausted and lethargic... or napping. I have the energy of a pencil.
Steve got me started on iron as I tend toward anemia, but so far, no improvement. I still drag around like a turtle on sleeping pills. I did start to walk around the block with a neighbor/friend, but I only go when she shows up in her walking shoes. No way will I head out on my own. "Hi, Linda, want to go for a walk?" "No." "Okay, we can just visit." Then ten minutes later I look around and find myself halfway down the street. How does she DO that?!
If you buy stocks, you might want to invest in Ocean Spray. Steve is pouring gallons of pure juice into me daily. (I add water to it when I can.) Also, as a near vegetarian, I'm now in vegetarian hell with him making me eat meat at least four times a week, sometimes more. He made a favorite casserole with ground beef and noodles, but caught me scooping out only noodles onto my own plate. Drat! My doctor insists I need meat to regain energy. Aargh!
I also try to exercise. It would make a great comedy routine. I move my arms a little, lift a leg occasionally, and walk around. That 12 pounds I lost in hospital? I seem to have relocated it.
But my problem is that I live in my own body and that's the main thing I see - pathetic, disheveled me. Steve and others see that I move more easily now, my color is better, and I stand up straighter. My energy level is higher and I've stopped hating all food. Before this I had no idea I was such a wimp. Well, compared to ten years ago, anyway.
It's January, the dreariest month of the year. I've lived through nearly 61 of them now. I think I can do it again. Thank God for two men who push me - one young, one old. I have great medical care, a warm house on these freezing days, two neighbors who check on me almost daily, and a body that hasn't given up yet. Why do I still complain?
But, and this is a big "but" (something with 2 t's that I really had in high school) when it finally all ends... it will get even better. I am so not dreading death. No aches, no pains, no lack of sleep, no misery at all. But it's best to not wish for that heavenly time just yet. I have two guys here, and one lovely lady in KY who are happy for the progress I've made. That's good enough for me.
Steve got me started on iron as I tend toward anemia, but so far, no improvement. I still drag around like a turtle on sleeping pills. I did start to walk around the block with a neighbor/friend, but I only go when she shows up in her walking shoes. No way will I head out on my own. "Hi, Linda, want to go for a walk?" "No." "Okay, we can just visit." Then ten minutes later I look around and find myself halfway down the street. How does she DO that?!
If you buy stocks, you might want to invest in Ocean Spray. Steve is pouring gallons of pure juice into me daily. (I add water to it when I can.) Also, as a near vegetarian, I'm now in vegetarian hell with him making me eat meat at least four times a week, sometimes more. He made a favorite casserole with ground beef and noodles, but caught me scooping out only noodles onto my own plate. Drat! My doctor insists I need meat to regain energy. Aargh!
I also try to exercise. It would make a great comedy routine. I move my arms a little, lift a leg occasionally, and walk around. That 12 pounds I lost in hospital? I seem to have relocated it.
But my problem is that I live in my own body and that's the main thing I see - pathetic, disheveled me. Steve and others see that I move more easily now, my color is better, and I stand up straighter. My energy level is higher and I've stopped hating all food. Before this I had no idea I was such a wimp. Well, compared to ten years ago, anyway.
It's January, the dreariest month of the year. I've lived through nearly 61 of them now. I think I can do it again. Thank God for two men who push me - one young, one old. I have great medical care, a warm house on these freezing days, two neighbors who check on me almost daily, and a body that hasn't given up yet. Why do I still complain?
But, and this is a big "but" (something with 2 t's that I really had in high school) when it finally all ends... it will get even better. I am so not dreading death. No aches, no pains, no lack of sleep, no misery at all. But it's best to not wish for that heavenly time just yet. I have two guys here, and one lovely lady in KY who are happy for the progress I've made. That's good enough for me.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Living A Good Life
I admit from the get-go that I'm a copy cat. My friend wrote a great piece on the wealth we have in America. It nearly made me regurgitate from my previously unacknowledged greediness. It's something I've been pondering lately, so here's my take on it.
We have an 8 room house, plus 3 baths, 6 storage closets, a huge entryway, and a garage-storage area, and a 3-level deck in our sizable yard. Oh, and a greenhouse. And that's nothing compared to many homes on this peninsula. The "big" houses are a few miles away; you know, the 17 room ones where husband and wife can go days without seeing each other. Probably on purpose.
At least I can say we use 7 of the rooms and all of the baths almost daily, but that's only because I'm home all day; we could survive with less.
We have clothing we never wear, and never will. Steve and I are trying to pare down our closets and give usable pieces to Goodwill. Still, we'll have too much left. Maybe if we could only keep a suitcase worth we'd do better in paring it down. And we'd still not be naked; we'd still be ahead of most people on earth.
I like Sam's attitude. He owns 2 pairs of shoes. One for home; one for everything else. I told him he needs more, and he replied that if he can only wear one pair at a time, why have more? He also has three pair of pants. Two for home (with the extra for wash day), and one for work. It might be Aspergian, but it does make sense.
Our pantry is mostly full. It's bigger than our closet. Every month or so I throw away things that have expired. What a waste. Why do we buy food then not eat it? Where are our heads?
Our library has thousands of books. True, most are Morgan's and she is slowly taking a few each time she visits, to read then give away. At least, I think she is. We could sell them for a quarter each and buy a small boat.
While it's true that I am not healthy, that I live in constant pain, thank God I am reminded of my wonderful life by people like Leura. I live in a mansion, have more food than I can eat, am warm in my perfectly fine old clothes, have all the books to read I could ever want, and am finally to the point where every day I can say, "Thank God for all this." Seriously, I do that now.
I don't personally know anyone who lives in poverty. If you're reading this, you are "wealthy" compared to most of humanity. Remember that, and go give some of your stuff to someone who needs it more than you do. If you can't make yourself do that....
We have an 8 room house, plus 3 baths, 6 storage closets, a huge entryway, and a garage-storage area, and a 3-level deck in our sizable yard. Oh, and a greenhouse. And that's nothing compared to many homes on this peninsula. The "big" houses are a few miles away; you know, the 17 room ones where husband and wife can go days without seeing each other. Probably on purpose.
At least I can say we use 7 of the rooms and all of the baths almost daily, but that's only because I'm home all day; we could survive with less.
We have clothing we never wear, and never will. Steve and I are trying to pare down our closets and give usable pieces to Goodwill. Still, we'll have too much left. Maybe if we could only keep a suitcase worth we'd do better in paring it down. And we'd still not be naked; we'd still be ahead of most people on earth.
I like Sam's attitude. He owns 2 pairs of shoes. One for home; one for everything else. I told him he needs more, and he replied that if he can only wear one pair at a time, why have more? He also has three pair of pants. Two for home (with the extra for wash day), and one for work. It might be Aspergian, but it does make sense.
Our pantry is mostly full. It's bigger than our closet. Every month or so I throw away things that have expired. What a waste. Why do we buy food then not eat it? Where are our heads?
Our library has thousands of books. True, most are Morgan's and she is slowly taking a few each time she visits, to read then give away. At least, I think she is. We could sell them for a quarter each and buy a small boat.
While it's true that I am not healthy, that I live in constant pain, thank God I am reminded of my wonderful life by people like Leura. I live in a mansion, have more food than I can eat, am warm in my perfectly fine old clothes, have all the books to read I could ever want, and am finally to the point where every day I can say, "Thank God for all this." Seriously, I do that now.
I don't personally know anyone who lives in poverty. If you're reading this, you are "wealthy" compared to most of humanity. Remember that, and go give some of your stuff to someone who needs it more than you do. If you can't make yourself do that....
Friday, January 7, 2011
Books
Looking around the chair where I'm sitting, this is what I see:
"Brain Games, Lower Your Brain Age in Minutes a Day" - I've done several of the puzzles and games, and apparently my brain is now about 86. Meaning, I'm not as smart as I was when I began. Egads, without Morgan here, I have to use a dictionary. Drat. Still working on it though...
"Understanding CA125 Levels" - Sometimes I feel the need to remind myself of things I already know.
"Don't Waste the Pain" - Okay, so it fell on the floor.
"Flowers in the Kitchen" - This is a wonderful new cookbook from Morgan that uses vegetable AND flowers from the garden for cooking. Sounds like fun. Comon' Spring!
"Abigail Adams" - I've been reading this thick one for months and it's really good. What an amazing woman, more like outstanding women of today than from her own time. We could use another person like her.
"The Only Boy in the World" - A man talks about his son, who has autism. Real. Heartbreaking. Full of truth and wisdom.
"All Cats Have Asperger's" - A picture book. Morgan and I read it together, finished, looked at one another and almost cried. This is Sam. Now read it yourself. You'll learn more than you know. I reread it every few months.
I also see some candy canes, too many pillows, piles of paper that I need to discard or read, fresh carnations, and Steve. It's all good. It's home.
"Brain Games, Lower Your Brain Age in Minutes a Day" - I've done several of the puzzles and games, and apparently my brain is now about 86. Meaning, I'm not as smart as I was when I began. Egads, without Morgan here, I have to use a dictionary. Drat. Still working on it though...
"Understanding CA125 Levels" - Sometimes I feel the need to remind myself of things I already know.
"Don't Waste the Pain" - Okay, so it fell on the floor.
"Flowers in the Kitchen" - This is a wonderful new cookbook from Morgan that uses vegetable AND flowers from the garden for cooking. Sounds like fun. Comon' Spring!
"Abigail Adams" - I've been reading this thick one for months and it's really good. What an amazing woman, more like outstanding women of today than from her own time. We could use another person like her.
"The Only Boy in the World" - A man talks about his son, who has autism. Real. Heartbreaking. Full of truth and wisdom.
"All Cats Have Asperger's" - A picture book. Morgan and I read it together, finished, looked at one another and almost cried. This is Sam. Now read it yourself. You'll learn more than you know. I reread it every few months.
I also see some candy canes, too many pillows, piles of paper that I need to discard or read, fresh carnations, and Steve. It's all good. It's home.
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