Remembering September 11, 2001

Grams has given a lot of thought to writing something to commemorate the ninth anniversary of September 11, 2001. I'm certain that there are those who will not agree with my point of view. Please feel free to disagree ... after all this is America.

The repercussions of those senseless acts of violence continue to reverberate around the world. When the planes crashed and the towers came down, for the first time in many years, America united. We were grieving and angry, but we were united. We flew our flags, sang patriotic songs, and said "God Bless America" while we vowed to "never forget."

We were angry and we hated the people who committed these atrocities. But nine years later the long-lasting effect of these acts of terrorism is an unhealthy atmosphere of bitterness and hatred towards people who are different from us, the vast majority of whom had nothing to do with September 11. As a result, hatred is accepted and nastiness has become pervasive and accepted in our society.

So pause today and remember those who lost their lives while doing nothing more than most of us do every day. Remember where you were and what you were doing that day. Weep for those who lost loved ones and those whose lives will never be the same. Fly your flag and remember how neighbors were brought together in the wake of September 11. Remember how you wanted to gather your family around and hold them close, how you had to call your kids or your parents just to say you were okay and to see if they were. Then think about how senseless it all was and how all the hatred won't change it or bring one person back.

Yes, we must be vigilant, we must be prepared, we must never be blindsided and surprised like that again. But hate changes us and our society into something dark and ugly.

In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."

Bluebonnets May Be A Brilliant Idea

Grams and Grandad had our house built back in 1984. It's a small ranch-style house in the northwest suburbs of Corpus Christi. We moved in on Grams 30th birthday and we've always loved our house and our neighborhood. Plus, considering that Grams is now 56 years old, it won't be too long before we invite all the neighbors over to celebrate with us as we burn our 30-year note.

Electrical outlet located right above 1980's wash basin.

We had no experience with building a house and had no idea what we were doing. We chose the house plans out of a book and didn't know that we really should have paid a little closer attention to the details. That lack of experience showed up in some interesting little quirks in the house. For example, in both of our bathrooms the electrical outlets are located exactly above and just to the left of the wash basin. It's neither convenient nor safe. And, in addition, in the master bedroom there are two doors about two feet apart. One of them leads into the master bath and the other leads into the walk-in closet. The problem is that the cable outlet is on the right hand side of the bathroom door and the electrical outlet for the television is on the left in between the two doors. It's just a small inconvenience, but over the years it's become a major irritant for me.

The other place where our lack of experience showed is in the direction our house faces. The front door faces due east meaning that the sun sets in our back yard. So on most evenings when we might want to use the back yard and patio for grilling and sitting outside, it's hotter than the face of the sun. It's so hot we rarely go back there between the middle of May and the end of October. It's not unusual for the temperature to exceed 105 degrees on the patio around five o'clock in the summertime.

Mexican Bird of Paradise

For several years we tried to grow a vegetable garden in the back yard and I had a small rose garden that we eventually moved to the north side of the house. The sun gets so hot back there that by late-June anything we've planted has been seared to a brown crisp. In some years it's just not possible to water enough to keep most things alive.

On top of all the usual heat and dryness, in 2009 we had a horrible drought and lost almost everything that was growing in the back yard including the carpet-grass and all of my angels' trumpets and lilies. Some of the grass has come back because this year we've had plenty of rain and it's been perfect for growing things. But other than some Mexican bird of paradise and some rosemary, nothing else survived.

Our Little Princess playing in the bluebonnets

Last spring, about the time we realized that most of the carpet-grass was not going to revive, we were driving around the Hill Country looking for a patch of wildflowers so we could take the traditional Texas bluebonnet snapshots of Our Little Princess. This gave me a brilliant idea. Instead of trying to replant the back yard, why not plant our own field of bluebonnets. (I use the term field lightly. Our back yard is tiny.) 

Bluebonnets are the state flower of Texas. According to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, they're simple to plant and can be inter-seeded with existing growth. All you have to do is mow the lawn down to about 6 inches, rake away any thatch, hand broadcast the seeds, then stomp them down. You do this in September, water them occasionally, and they should bloom next spring. As a bonus, after they bloom, if you don't mow them down until the seed pods mature, they will re-seed themselves and will bloom again every spring. This should give us a lovely blooming yard while it's cool enough for us to enjoy it.

So this weekend, Grams is going on a quest for bluebonnet seeds. Hopefully, next spring we'll have a back yard full of beautiful Texas wildflowers. By the time the bluebonnets go to seed, we won't care what the back yard looks like. Isn't this a brilliant idea? Watch this space next spring for photos of my beautiful bluebonnet patch.

Where (and How) the Magic Happens

Fellow blogger Laurin Evans is asking bloggers to dedicate a post today to how we do what we do. I signed up for this one-time meme so here goes. Oh, yeah, I was supposed to post it this morning. But at 6 a.m. I got a call to substitute today so I worked at my real job instead of my fun one.

I'll just start by saying that for Grams, blogging is not work. It's something I do because I enjoy it. When I'm working, I'm substitute teaching, and they actually pay me. I would love to blog for a living, but I don't have enough of a following to make money at it. And, I'm okay with that, for now.

Our Little Princess on a rainy day.

I blog from my life experience. My blog would have to be considered somewhat unfocused in that I don't write about one particular topic or area of expertise. I'm just writing about whatever is on my mind on a particular day or whatever inspires me. I share advice, opinions, recipes, craft projects, and a lot of pictures of my gorgeous grand-daughter, Our Little Princess. (Laurin encouraged bloggers to include photos of their pets, and since we don't have pets, here's a picture of Our Little Princess instead.) Occasionally I rant about one topic or another. It depends on what's upsetting me at the time.

For inspiration, I keep a simple, running list of ideas for blogs so I don't lose them or forget them. When an idea pops into my mind, if I'm not at home, I send myself an email from my cell phone so I won't forget to add it to the list when I get home. I have gotten into the habit of carrying my camera with me almost everywhere I go. Sometimes a photo is the best inspiration and all the reminder I need.

That's the back of my head,so you can see my view.

I write and publish this blog using an old Dell Latitude laptop that Grandad snagged from a business that was putting it out to pasture. I work in my living room while sitting on my sofa in front of the television. I often have my feet propped on the coffee table. Here's the view from where I sit. And, yes, the television is always on.

This is my view if Grandad is home.

I write at my own convenience, in between all my daily tasks. If it's Monday, I'm writing between loads of laundry. While I'm writing, I'm trying to decide what to make for dinner, reading emails, talking to my kids or my sisters on the phone, Facebooking, snacking, texting, watching television or movies ... you get the idea. I'm not very focused. Distractions don't bother me. Remember, I'm already sitting in front of the television. When I do get distracted, I just go back and read what I've written so far and I can usually just go right back to it.

I always have a drink of some sort on the end table right next to me.  In the mornings it's coffee, afternoons and evenings it's water, iced tea, or Crystal Light Lemonade. In the evenings, it might be a glass of wine.

So that's it. That's how I blog and where I blog. The only thing I would change if I could is I would like a shiny, new laptop with a wider screen. Maybe Santa will bring me one ... a girl can dream can't she?

Buzz Words

Grams loves words. I love their power to convey meaning and messages. I love the nuances of words and how the same words mean different things to different people. In fact, someday I would like to write a book about words, specifically about how families have their own languages and how words are used within families.

Today, I'm thinking about words used in business, marketing and advertising. You know them; you've heard them all your life. They're words like new, improved, super-sized, fun-size, etc.

Yesterday, we went to Starbucks for a mid-afternoon pick-me-up. Grandad wasn't feeling well so he waited in the car while I went in to get our drinks. As I got out of the car, he said, "Why don't you get us a couple of cookies." When I asked what kind of cookies he wanted he said I should get two different kinds and we would share them.

When I walked up to the bakery case, I noted that they only had one kind of cookie, oatmeal, really big oatmeal cookies called "outrageous oatmeal cookies." So I asked the barista if they had any chocolate chunk cookies that were not in the case. He went into the back and came out to tell me that the only other cookies they had were peanut butter mini-cookies which come "3 for the price." So I ordered one outrageous oatmeal cookie and three peanut butter mini-cookies. 

Now, lets talk about those cookies. It turns out that outrageous accurately describes the size of this cookie. The outrageous oatmeal cookie is at least five inches across. Certainly big enough to share. The "mini" cookies were a good three inches wide and thick and chewy. Basically, they were the size of a normal cookie. They were good. We split the oatmeal cookie and then each of us had our own peanut butter cookie. Tonight we split the third cookie for dessert.

I guess they were at least straightforward in calling the giant oatmeal cookie outrageous. It's outrageously large and outrageously high in calories, 370 calories with 120 of them coming from fat and a whopping 36 grams of sugar in each cookie. But I resent them calling a regular-size cookie a "mini" cookie and selling them at 3-for-the-price. There's nothing mini about these cookies, and if I'm going to buy three of them, I can pretty much guarantee that I'm going to eat all three. Each of these cookies tasty little gems contains 160 calories and 11 grams of sugar.

And while we're on the subject of descriptive words used in marketing and advertising, let's talk about new and improved. As a general rule, I hate and despise anything that's new and improved. You see, Grams is a very product-loyal consumer. For years I have used Colgate toothpaste, All Small & Mighty Laundry Detergent, Dove Soap, Oil of Olay Moisturizer, Dawn Dish Soap, and Bare Minerals makeup. Those are just the products that come to my mind right now. Once I find a product I like I don't see any reason to shop around and try other brands. That is unless and until they decide to take my perfectly good product and make it new and improved.

My skin is particularly sensitive to scents. Oftentimes a new and improved product will have a slightly different scent and my skin will break out in a lovely red rash everywhere my skin folds ... knees, elbows, armpits, and personal areas (you get the idea). Or the scent will make my nose run and my eyes water. So once I find a product that works for me, I'm loyal to that product.

And on the other side of the same coin, I feel cheated when I finally learn to like the new and improved product and the next time I go to buy it, the tagline says, "original formula." All I can think is "Really! You got me to buy a new and improved product. Now you're trying to sell me the "original formula. I've been had!"

The Sunday Funnies

When Grams was a child, one of my favorite things was to climb up on my Dad's lap every Sunday morning. Daddy would drink his coffee and read the Sunday funnies to me. Sometimes, if I woke up early, I would climb into bed between my parents and he would read them to me there. It's one of the gentlest memories I have of my Dad. We loved Dennis the Menace, Little Orphan Annie, Alley Oop, Brenda Starr, Beetle Bailey, Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, Dick Tracy, and Superman. I think sitting with my dad while he read these comic strips aloud to me is one of the reasons I still love to read today.

In honor of my Dad and our love of the Sunday Funny Papers, I'm starting a new feature today that, as you can see, I'm calling "The Sunday Funnies." This will be an occasional feature of something funny, cute or humorous. Fair warning, my sense of humor is sometimes a little off. Many of these stories will be about things that happened when we were raising kids. Such is the case today.

Grams is a child of the 50s and 60s. It was a more naive and innocent time. I grew up in a strict and staunch southern baptist household. Discussion of and/or questions about anything remotely sexual were forbidden. While I knew, anecdotally at least, that other parents had "the birds and the bees" talks with their kids, we never had that conversation at our house. These topics were just not discussed in polite company.

In our house, sex education consisted of our mother telling us repeatedly that boys only wanted one thing and we were not to give it to them. The only actual conversation about sex that ever took place occurred when I was 20-years-old. I asked my mom if it hurt the first time you have sex. I remember her response verbatim. She said, "It's a little uncomfortable." That's it! That was the entirety of sex education I received at home.

In the 1960s, schools also did very little sex education. When I was in sixth grade, all the girls were kept after school one day and required to watch a movie about menstruation and the female reproductive system. There was no mention of sex or male anatomy or arousal or reproduction. It could not have been construed in any way as sex education. At 20 years old, I had very little knowledge of anything sexual.

A few years later, as a young mother, I was determined that this would not be the case with my children. I was going to teach them well. They would not go out into the world without knowing everything they needed to know. I read books and did research to prepare myself. I knew the day would come. Now, to wait for the right time.

Our daughter was in about the third grade when the mother of one of her best friends became pregnant. As the time for her delivery approached, Katy naturally became more curious. One day she came into my bedroom and asked "Mommy, how did that baby get inside Debbie's tummy?"

Here it was! The moment had arrived! I was ready! I was informed! I was primed! It was time for me to share my knowledge with my little girl! I was terrified! But I was calm and well-prepared.

Breathlessly, I sat down next to her on the foot of my bed and had "the talk." I explained in simple language that she could understand what happens when a baby is made. Her eyes got bigger and bigger. I really thought she was getting it. I was so proud of myself.

Then it happened. She looked at me with those big brown eyes and said three words I will never forget. "Mom, that's disgusting!"

I looked back at her and said, "Katy, hold that thought for the next twenty years."

What Grams learned that day was very valuable in the remainder of my child-rearing years. I will share that lesson with you now. When your kids ask you a question, answer it and then shut the hell up. They're not looking for explanations, they just want an answer. So, just answer the question they ask. It will turn out better for everyone involved if you don't elaborate.

This is About Weight Loss Surgery and Me

Last weekend Grams wrote a post about eating at a local restaurant where one of my son's best friends is the chef. In that post I noted that I had ordered the spicy fried shrimp. I didn't even think about the relationship between what I ordered for dinner and my weight loss surgery, but then I got a comment about my weight loss surgery and it made me think about my relationship with food and the "post-op life."

Before at 300 lbs. and after at 180 lbs.

Grams has a few things to say about weight loss surgery ... about my own weight loss surgery. I don't claim to be an expert nor to give advice to others about how to live their post-weight-loss-surgery life. This is about me and only me.

Four years ago this month I elected to take the drastic step of undergoing weight loss surgery. The procedure that my surgeon and I decided on is called a Roux-En-Y, commonly known as gastric bypass.

I am 5'1" tall and have struggled with my weight since I gained 79 pounds with my first pregnancy in 1979.  In June of 2006 I left a job I had held for 32 years under less than ideal circumstances. I was three years short of my planned retirement age, but I just couldn't take the new management.

At 52 years old I faced the daunting task of looking for a job while weighing in at 300 pounds. To describe my emotional state as devastated and depressed would be an understatement of monumental proportion. Frankly, I just couldn't do it. I could not bring myself to send out a single resume or make a single phone call. I simply could not do it!

If you've never been significantly overweight (aka morbidly obese) maybe you don't know how it feels. Sometimes I felt invisible ... like no one could see me past the fat. Conversely, sometimes I felt like the center of attention ... like the fattest person in any room that everyone was staring at. I was in constant pain from carrying all that extra weight on my knees. I could not stop eating. If a couple of Oreos were good ... the whole bag was better. If an ice cream cone sounded good ... a large Blizzard sounded better. I had absolutely no control over what I was putting in my body. I was also drinking about a case of 20-ounce Diet Cokes a week.

Let me also say that dieting actually worked for me. I lost weight successfully on almost every diet I ever tried ... and I tried 'em all. I was not one of the people who could not lose weight by dieting. The problem was that I could not sustain the loss and keep the weight off. I would go on a diet and lose a significant amount of weight. But after about three months I just couldn't take it any more and I would be off on a binge. By this time I had quit trying. Emotionally I just could not face another failure.

I don't really consider myself to be a goal-oriented person. I'm just not. It used to drive my bosses crazy. Remember, I worked in nonprofit fund-raising so I had solid measurable goals for how much money to raise from specific groups of people and how many new contributions I had to get every month. And I thought it was bullshit! I always did my best. Sometimes I made goal and sometimes I didn't ... and the world did not come to an end.

My surgeon didn't give me a stated goal for how much weight to lose and I considered that a plus. I chose this surgeon for several reasons. Besides his experience and positive track record. the fact that he told me his patients get their protein from real food not protein supplements was a deciding factor for me. He has now changed his tune and encourages his patients to drink 1-2 protein shakes a day to help maintain their weight loss.

My original idea was to get my weight down to around 150 pounds, which would still make me overweight. The ideal weight for someone who's 5'1" tall is some ridiculously low number between 106 and 118. I weighed exactly 118 when we married in 1975 and I've never seen that number again, nor do I expect to see it again. I never had in mind that weight loss surgery would make me skinny. I'm not skinny ... I've never been skinny ... I'm never going to be skinny ... and I'm okay with that!

So why did I have weight loss surgery? One word ... control! I had to be able to control my relationship with food. I'm not a perfect weight loss surgery patient.

• I don't use protein supplements very often and I'm much more likely to snack on a protein bar than to drink a protein shake. 
• I take my vitamin and mineral supplements religiously. I never miss them and my annual follow-up blood work has always been exemplary. 
• I eat normal food. 
• Sometimes I eat fried food. 
• I eat carbohydrates. THE HORROR! 
• I eat chocolate almost every day. I stick to dark chocolate and I don't eat much, but I'm not giving it up. Someday they'll have to pry it out of my cold dead hand.

The control I've gained with weight loss surgery allows me to eat more reasonably. I don't feel the need to eat a whole bag of Oreos, but I will occasionally eat two of them. And, yes, sometimes I order fried shrimp. But, where I used to eat a dozen fried shrimp, french fries, cole slaw, bread, and sometimes dessert; now I eat 3-4 fried shrimp, less than half of a baked potato and part of a salad. Sometimes we still order dessert. But we order one dessert with 5 spoons and pass it around.

Today I weigh 196 pounds, up from my post-surgery low of 175. But I'm happy and active and I don't obsess about how much I weigh. I cook good, healthy food at home almost every meal. We still eat out two or three times a week. I can go hiking, chase my grand-baby around all week, and ride my bicycle. I used to wear a size 26; now I wear a 14. 

If you had weight-loss surgery, you bought the package, and that includes taking the appropriate dietary supplements. Failing to take them is stupid and can be life threatening. Beyond that, it's really between you and your surgeon and your success or failure is in your own hands and for you to measure yourself.

For many people, the post weight loss life is a lifestyle. For some I would even say it's an obsession. They must reach goal ... they must maintain their weight loss ... they must be skinny ... they must never, ever eat carbohydrates ... they must do whatever it is they must do. And I say, "Good for them!" If that's what you want or need and you're willing to do the work, go get 'em and good on you! But that's not me. It's not what I want or need and it's not the life I choose. I got what I want out of my weight loss surgery. I got control! And, whatever it is you want, I hope that's what you get.

It's the Merry-Hearted Boys Who Make the Best Men

Grams has told you about many of the women on my walk. Now I want you to get to know my son Nick. Watching him turn into the man he is today has been one of the biggest joys of my life.

As a youngster he was always the class clown and had a reputation for disrupting class and giving teachers a hard time. He worked hard to overcome that and has grown into a good and decent man mostly through his own sheer will and determination, and his father's prayers. He managed to overcome a learning disability and earned two college degrees at the same time. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in General Studies from Schreiner University and a Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering and Industrial Technology from Texas A&M University. He earned both of them at the same time and played collegiate basketball and golf. He knew from the beginning that he wanted to be an engineer and he set his mind and focus on it and never stopped.

He has a natural athletic ability that was evident from a very early age. He learned to dribble a basketball about the same time he learned to walk.  And he's good at almost any sport he tries. He likes movies and video games.

He is kind and will never stand by silently and watch injustice. He stands up for what is right and decent. But he won't back down from a fight. When necessary he will stand up for himself, but never without fair warning. He once warned a guy in a bar who was trying to pick a fight with him "I have ADD and I'm off my meds. If I fight you I will not be able to stop."

The ease with which he understands advanced mathematics has always amazed me. (When my kids were in school, I was disappointed to discover that I don't know how to do fourth grade math.) He has an analytical mind and takes the time to mull things over and see them from different points of view. He's fair minded and a good friend. He has a large group of friends that he's been close to for years, some of them since nursery school.

He was always the sweetest child. He was the little boy who would pick flowers and bring them to me. When he was about seven years old he decided to run away from home. He only went as far as the corner of the driveway where he sat for hours tossing stones at the front door. He was always a cuddly baby and loved to sit on my lap and be rocked. When he was well into his teens, he would still occasionally drop his 6'2" body into my lap and wrap his arms around me. 

Like most parent and child relationships we had our problems. Against our advice and wishes, he withdrew from Schreiner at mid-term of his first year, walked away from his scholarship and basketball team, and transferred to Blynn Junior College in College Station to be near a girlfriend. When she broke up with him a couple of weeks later he was devastated and depressed. But after that semester he went back to Schreiner and completed his studies there. He even went back to the coach and got his position back on the basketball team. That made me very proud and gave me a glimpse of the man he would become.

The day Grandad had his heart surgery he was a rock. After everyone else had left that day, when our nerves were stretched taut after waiting for hours and hours, he walked through the restricted doors right to the coronary ICU nurses' station. He told the nurse straight out that we'd been there for more than 15 hours, we'd been told several hours earlier that we'd be able to see him soon, and then we had heard nothing more. He explained that we just needed them to tell us one way or the other. It would be fine if we weren't able to see him, but his Mom needed to go eat some dinner and get some rest. Like magic, the doors were opened and we were taken to see him.

He chose a wife who's just as smart as he is. Marie holds the same degree from TAMU that he does. And, did I mention that she's a beauty queen? She holds her own with him and doesn't take any crap from him ... and he likes that about her. He proposed to her at her graduation, in front of a packed house at Reed Arena. It was one of the sweetest and most romantic things I've ever seen. I was moved to tears and honored to be there.

I'm so proud of him and the life they are building together. They're not yet 30 years old and own a beautiful home in Houston. They both have good jobs and are building a solid life together. When I think of Nick, I think of the old Irish proverb -- "It's the merry-hearted boys who make the best men."