I had my six month follow up appointment with my surgeon yesterday. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy going back to the cancer center. I was rattled to the core. It seems in the past couple of months, I have been able to think of other things besides the "C" word now and again, and it has been nice. Walking back in there brought back raw fear as if it were just yesterday when I was diagnosed.

I kept talking to myself about the fact that the surgery is over, the radiation is over, and now it is just surveillance. My rational mind knew that, but it wasn't informing the small quivering child within. It decided to keep it on a level that couldn't be reached for awhile. As I drove over to the center, I marveled at my ability to shake and shiver and still drive quite well. I hadn't forgotten the way in the past few months. I had however, gotten a new smaller car, so the drive was a bit more fun. The new car is more sporty and not so grandmotherly. Maybe that was the result of some latent need to feel young and carefree?

As I arrived, I pulled right into the valet parking lane, and turned my fob over like an old pro. I managed to hold the door and the elevator for a woman with a walker. She and I visited on the way up, and I welcomed her warmth and good humor. When I approached the registration desk, they were ready with the dreaded hospital bracelet and page of stickers. I knew the routine. I also knew the volunteers would soon be offering me a cup of tea or whatever I wanted to drink. They are so soothing and caring. It helps.

I waited to be called in, and noted when I had to get on the scale that I had worn my heaviest pair of shoes and a sweater. I was hoping to be down at least ten more pounds by my six month follow up. Not the case. I didn't even ask what my blood pressure was, as the nurse took it. I didn't want to know. I had no problems to report. I was a little worried about an area of hard tissue under my incision, but I would address that with my doctor.

I didn't have to wait long for her to arrive. I had opted to slouch in the chair to wait for her instead of sitting on the backless exam table. I was doing my best slouch, when I heard her knock at the door. She entered the room wearing a stylish herringbone wool jacket instead of her usual white coat. That put me at ease instantly. She also had a smile on her face and she looked into my eyes as we spoke.

Our previous encounters before my surgery and just afterward were neither warm or cordial. I thought it was her demeanor, but now I wonder if it was mine, or maybe a combination of a very concerned professional who wanted to do her best job, and a very scared patient. Nonetheless, we had a very nice visit.

She examined me thoroughly on both sides from every angle and told me that she found absolutely no areas of concern. She had the results of my recent labs and she was pleased I was taking vitamin D and was on track with my thyroid medications. We talked a bit more about my plans for follow up with my medical oncologist (I have been dreading that one too).

I was surprised that from this point on, I would only be seeing her at the same time I get my yearly mammogram. It reassured me that I wouldn't have to be monitored as closely as I feared I might.

I don't know if I will ever get used to the idea that I have had breast cancer, but I feel more accepting of it now. I don't wake up every morning in a cold sweat with my heart pumping hard and fast. Some days I can even sleep in. I will never take my health for granted again. I will do what I need to, in order to keep on top of things. I even have a colonoscopy scheduled, and I am not really sweating it. I guess we could call that progress!

Independence Day! This is a day I have both enjoyed and taken for granted for a very long time. When I was a kid, my family usually had a picnic at a local park called Sully's Hill. My mother and grandmother used to fry chicken, make potato salad and pack a wonderful picnic lunch. We kids would run wild through the park, just basically raising hell and being maniacs. There was a huge hill to climb, which overlooked the whole area. We made our way up that hill, and after reaching the top, all six of us would take off running down as fast as our legs would carry us. At the end was a fence made of cut timbers. I don't know how we avoided smashing into that fence as we reached the bottom, because the hill was steep and one could pick up a good head of steam before reaching the bottom. Our guardian angels must have been working overtime in those days.

The day usually ended with a drive through the natural habitat trail. It was dotted with prairie dogs, elk, deer, and the best reward of all - a herd of buffalo. It was an awesome experience to slowly navigate between those big creatures, and my heart would beat a little faster, wondering if something might make them stampede. If they decided to do that, I was sure our little Rambler would have been smashed like a tin can - with us in it.

As the evening turned to night, we often found ourselves at my grandmother's house. She and my grandfather lived directly across the street from the park where the fireworks were lit. She had all of the chairs set up outside her screen porch and a thing she called a smudge pot going. From what I could tell, the smudge pot was a metal pail of burning embers to which she would add handfuls of green grass from time to time. It would smoke something awful, and she claimed that would keep the mosquitos away. It seemed to work. We felt very lucky to have a good, cozy vantage point for the fireworks, and a smudge pot to keep us from being eaten alive by those virulent North Dakota mosquitos. To this day, I don't know anywhere, except Canada, where the mosquitos are so thick and overpowering. I am too much of a wimp to chance the mosquito gauntlet these days, although I have to admit those pesky bugs seem to leave me alone for the most part. I always say it is the Native blood I inherited from my father's side of the family.

This year finds me staying at a lake cabin in the northwoods. I am feeling especially grateful for the ability to enjoy a holiday with my family. Almost a month ago, I was facing the first surgery of my life. I was diagnosed with breast cancer and facing a lumpectomy. I was terrified of the diagnosis and the idea of surgery. The news hit me with the realization that my life would never be the same again. My husband and sister spent hours reassuring me I was going to get through the surgery just fine, but I wasn't convinced. I had always been the healthy one in the family - the kid who never caught the flu or the cold that was ravaging the other kids. That turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

I never got used to being messed with from a medical point of view. I didn't have to face many needles, medicines or doctors. I had routine check-ups, but not often. When I did, everything always came back perfect. Suddenly, I was having to trust being put out with a general anesthetic and letting my surgeon cut into my body and remove things. The things she was removing, were a small breast lump, about an inch long and a few lymph nodes for testing. I tried to tell myself it really wasn't a big deal and I would heal quickly. I have always been a quick healer.

The surgery went well, and I did heal quickly, however I was not ready for the underarm pain the small incision there created. I was bruised, dyed blue in strange places and generally on high alert for a few weeks. I had to hurry and heal however, because we had a trip to Florida planned with our daughter and her family. I was determined not to let this damned cancer thing define me or limit my life. The healing happened and the trip to Florida went off without a hitch.

The week after my return, I was scheduled to meet both my medical oncologist and my radiology oncologist. The idea of oncologist just caught me up cold. I fretted over the first appointment - not sure what I was going to be told. To my huge relief, my doctor turned out to be a woman a few years my senior who was both compassionate and reassuring. It made my second appointment easier to face. My second doctor was a younger woman - 40ish - smart, articulate and caring. I feel so grateful to have those women along with my surgeon, another brilliant young woman overseeing my care. I am feeling trust for the first time in my life, when it comes to my physical well being.

Today, the blue of the sky, the smell of the lake, the call of the loon and the eagle soaring overhead bring me back to my native roots. I am seeing signs everywhere that all is well and will continue to be that way. I feel free in so many ways now. There is the Fourth of July holiday that I am privileged to be healthy enough to enjoy and there is the freedom from the "C" word. It has been removed from my body. Life will never again be the same for me, but there is nothing that says it can't be better!

For some reason I have taken a rather long hiatus from blogging. I guess it just lost its appeal for some reason. At first it was so much fun and I had a lot to say, but for a period of time my writing muscle became weak and began to atrophy. I am feeling a resurgence of my passion, however. Maybe it is the first of the year, and the resolution thing.

I was musing this morning about the Kindle we bought my mother for Christmas. I was wondering if she would ever buy more than one book on it. She is an avid reader, and her bookshelves are piled high. I thought the Kindle would alleviate the huge overstuffed bookshelves in her townhouse. As I was thinking about it, the phone rang and it was her on the line. She was in fact trying to figure out how to navigate her Kindle. I am encouraged that she is not giving up easily.

My other concern was the watch that we gave my father. We felt he deserved a really nice watch, but I had reservations that even at his age, he would feel he should save it to wear only for dress occasions. I voiced that to my mother this morning and she told me that he had just told her that he was indeed going to save it to wear for special occasions. I told her to tell him that at his age, every day was a special occasion and that he needs to wear the watch.

The gifts I received this year, have added to my quality of life, and I am grateful for them. I have a coffee brewer that allows me to make a mean cup of mocha in the morning, a pillow that gives me a better night's sleep, and a few kitchen gadgets that have renewed my interest in cooking. That is always a good thing. We have a special bottle of wine that we are looking forward to tasting with some very special cheese as well.

Since we went on a huge weight loss kick several years ago, I have lost my love of cooking and eating. You would never know that by looking at my plump little frame, but I am one of those people who could eat nothing and not lose a pound. My thyroid petered out years ago, and as a result, I fight the weight constantly. My challenge this year is to cook tasty food with less fat and calories. That, and exercising often with the Wii that my husband gifted me with. So far, I am able to figure out these electronic toys, and they have made life richer.

However, another goal I have for the year is to limit my time surfing the net and also to make real connections with those I love, instead of relying on the quick blurbs on the internet to stay connected. There is a balance that has to be found between being too involved in my children's lives and being too distant. I think in the past couple of years, I have been less on the telephone and more on email, which can lead to some real misunderstanding at times. Actually Skype has been wonderful when you can't be there. There is nothing better than seeing those grandkid's faces and watching them being cute and funny when I can't actually be there to give and get hugs.

We've had some challenges with health issues this year. We are staying optimistic about those and focusing on the positive. We all go through this things, and as I see it we can be miserable doing it, or we can pluck as much joy as we can out of every day and not borrow trouble.

I have a huge respect my children and their spouses who have little people with real health challenges. I am not sure if, when I was their age, I would have been as level headed and calm as they are in working through those things. Their children are well balanced and grounded, and living life to the fullest every day. As a mother and grandmother, that makes me very proud and grateful.

Well, those are some January musings. It is lovely to be writing again. More soon. It feels great to be putting fingers to keyboard again. Happy New Year!

I've always loved the month of October. When I was a child it was the month of not only my birthday, but the birthdays of my two sisters as well. It started on the first of the month, which was my sister Jackie's birthday, mine was on the 25th, and Nancy's was on the 30th. She missed Halloween by a day, but still, it was close enough for an honorable mention.

Very often my mother held a joint birthday party in October, usually somewhere in the middle for all three of us. She would bake a lovely birthday cake with Halloween decorations and there were napkins and favors all in the Halloween theme. We would invite our friends and neighbors and that amounted to a lot of kids. It was the one time our mother, or the mother of our neighbor kids, the Azures would let such a bunch of kids into their houses. They were both more inclined to shoo the kids out of the house. Neither house was very large and as I look back, I wonder how we all coped with one bathroom and only two bedrooms in our small house. The Azures had three bedrooms, but two more kids as well. It seemed I could never go into the bathroom without having someone knocking on the door and telling me my time was up.

October in North Dakota was often a chilly month, but we could count on Indian Summer at least for a day or two where the school windows were open. If we were lucky, we could enjoy the breezes of October as well as the World Series being played over the school's public address system. I wasn't crazy about baseball in those days, but listening to the World Series was much more fun than doing the sheets of school work we were allowed to work on, while listening.

Our neighborhood would have been considered on the wrong side of the tracks, although all of us had lots of friends from all over town, and they loved to come to our neighborhood to hang out. We had a cohesive bunch of kids on the South Side. We played night games during the summer and on the weekends in the fall. The night games usually involved chasing through the streets and alleys and avoiding being caught and kissed. Sometimes we played truth or dare, and the dare usually involved kissing someone. I thought of all of the neighborhood boys as younger brothers, so the idea of kissing them was kind of disgusting to me, but I complied.

When I was in sixth grade, I was finally allowed to have my own birthday party and invite my friends from school. That birthday was particularly special to me. I was allowed to have a friend from school stay overnight. I received many nice gifts, but the one that stands out in my mind is the plastic wallet I got from my overnight guest. It was black with a white poodle on it. It smelled of lovely new plastic and it had a five dollar bill in it. I could hardly wait to go shopping and use my new wallet to pay for my purchases. We shopped the very next day at the Woolworth store. After pondering several purchases, I couldn't resist a small plastic woven basket with two small identical white kittens in it, called Tisket and Tasket. It was something I had been looking at all summer, and that day it became my own. My life was complete.

Halloween was a real holiday in our town. We always stayed on the South Side for our trick or treating. Our costumes were made of things we could find in our homes. I loved to dress like an old woman, with a long dress, a funny hat, powdered hair, and wrinkles drawn on with a piece of burnt wood, or even a burnt match. It was always a bit frustrating however to work so hard on putting together a good costume, only to have to wear my coat over the top, because it was so cold outside. October 31 in northern North Dakota was usually not a warm night. It was raw and windy, very often.

Our goal every Halloween was to fill the pillowcases we used to catch our treats. The biggest treasure was a chocolate candy bar of some type. Even the small size bar in those days was pretty big. It was always a disappointment to get apples, popcorn balls, or pennies. I hated the pennies the most. When we got home, our treats were our own private stash, although we did a good bit of candy trading between the three of us. Suckers were another disappointment, although a Tootsie Pop was okay, because it held the promise of the chewy chocolate center. I still like a Tootsie Pop today on occasion.

As I got older October held lots of fun, since that was the month my school usually did homecoming. That meant dates for the homecoming dance, special dresses, and football games. My sister and I found a lady in town that we adopted as our personal seamstress, since our mother had no time to sew. We designed our own dresses, bought the fabric, and Esther would create our fashions for us. We worked to earn the money to pay for them with part time jobs. It was always understood if we wanted those special things, we had to pay for them. My parents earned enough to give us a home and put food on the table, and it took all of their energy to do that.

My memories of October are rich and happy. It was a month of falling leaves and great promise. Sadly, I grew up too fast in that small town. Maybe we all did. My first wedding day was October 1. The marriage didn't last long, but it was a lovely one. My favorite seamstress and another one besides created my white crepe wedding dress. It was a long one with pointed, thin sleeves, and an empire waist. My bridesmaids had sleeveless versions of my dress in a hot pink color. We were an adorable group of miniature adults. As I look at the pictures now, we were just children. If only we would have realized that at the time... But then changing history would have deprived my life of some very important people, so I wouldn't do it, even if by some wrinkle in time, I were offered the chance to do so.

Check out my friend Jennie Helderman's blog. I wrote a guest blog for her over there. Jennie and I have been friends for 10 years since we met in an online writer's group. She has been a source of inspiration to me on more than one occasion. Here's a link. Enjoy! www.jenniehelderman.com

"There's a place in your heart, and I know that it is love...". Michael Jackson is dead. The world collectively stopped breathing and felt the pain for a trembling moment in time. How could this be? How could he have died before he got a chance to redeem himself, to make his comeback? It isn't fair! But then life isn't fair is it?

I am astounded, but on the other hand too well in touch, with the human nature that caused all of his critics and detractors to peck at him relentlessly when he was down - who are now praising him and proclaiming that his imprint on the world will never be forgotten or washed over by the sands of time.

Michael suffered so much emotional pain in the past several years of his life at the hands of careless humans who got a laugh at his expense. He was betrayed by those he tried to nurture and protect. According to those closest to him, his spirit was gentle and loving and not capable of some of the things opportunists tried to accuse him of. In the end the evidence weighed in his favor, but he was never acquitted in the world of public opinion.

Do you suppose that all of those who are so publicly paying tribute to him now, were there to comfort him when he suffered in the quiet hours of the night? Did they bolster his spirit when he needed it and did they provide a shoulder for him to lean on? I wonder about that.

Why does it take someone's death to snap us all to attention? Why did Michael have to die before the family he left behind was allowed to feel proud of him, and realize the impact we all know he has had on our lives, past, present and future?

Maybe it is time to cultivate a kinder society here in the U.S. Will this be the impetus for us to do that? Does anyone feel a little guilt at all about the way Michael was persecuted and ridiculed? Does anyone wish he could have felt some of the love during his life that is being showered on him now? Maybe it might have actually saved his life.

Will we as humans with souls learn anything from maybe the tiniest shreds of guilt we might feel in this regard? I would like to think so. We need to start a kindness movement here, where even if a person has made a mistake, we can be the first to show some compassion and forgiveness.

I'm not saying Michael did anything, in the cases he was accused of. From the reams of material I've read, it is difficult to believe he has. Sadly, there are others out there who are serving as fodder for some cheap comedian's jokes. How about we stop laughing at that kind of humor? I find myself turning the channel away from it. I also turn the channel on sensationalist journalism that loves to hash and rehash a situation. We don't need all of that negative in any of our daily lives.

So let's think about it, huh? Just a little more kindess and generosity of spirit from now on? It might just "Heal the World"!

(as I quietly step down from my soapbox and stack it in the corner)

Today was one of those days when all felt right with the world. Some Mothers Days I have felt like the worst mother in the world. I am a mother wracked with guilt. I don't know if it is the Catholic upbringing or if it is the age I am. It seems more and more I look back at the past and absolutely cringe at some of the ignorant decisions I made as a parent over the years.

My husband would alleviate my angst by saying something like, "You did the best you could with the resources and information you had at the time." I suppose he is right to some degree and I really love his cool logic. However, I do believe my own offspring are smarter than I was at their ages. They seem to have something going for them that I didn't.

Nonetheless it is a great feeling to see your grandkids being raised with so much love and security. I love that for them. As of tomorrow, I will have spent time with all of them within the last couple of weeks. That is one of the reasons I stay in the Midwest, despite the cold, cruelty of winter - to be near those grandkids and to be able to spend quality time with them. That is what makes life worth living!

Today I had a great lunch with my son, his wife and three of the grandkids. I got to hold that little miracle baby who looks like a perfect miniature of his daddy and I got to hug that big brother of his who is already styling with his long scarf and his fashionable jacket. Who told this four year old that scarves are really trendy? No one had to, he just knows it. He is cool to the bone, that guy.

I spent the better part of the weekend with my granddaughter who is so in synch with me that sometimes we don't even have to talk. We just hang out together and chill. This girl is amazingly smart. She can read faster than anyone I know, and she is such good company.

Tomorrow I get to see the oldest granddaughter. It is the last choir concert of her senior year. I am so excited for her to finish high school and put all of those brains and all of that talent to work. She is the whole package that one.

The other two grandkids live on a farm about four hours from here. I got to spend time with the two of them a couple of weeks ago. They are both gorgeous, smart, funny kids. One has beautiful green eyes and the other has blue eyes that would stop you dead in your tracks. They can melt my heart in a moment, both of them. I am over the moon crazy about my grandkids. I am truly blessed and I know it. As far as kids and grandkids go, I won the lottery, big time!!

And here is my baby sister getting her face time with President Obama.  She has always had the gift of gab, that girl.  I'm sure he was absolutely taken with her as most people are.  That's why we call her Ferris!

This photo was taken at Obama's first campaign rally in Minnesota. I am the one directly over his right shoulder, and my sister Jackie is over his left shoulder. The bearded guy beside Jackie, is my brother in law Ron. We were right up front and got to shake his hand. It was that handshake that gave me really good vibes about this man and his character. Today was a special day in the history of this country. I've got an embossed invitation to the Inauguration. I am definitely going to frame that. I am proud that we were Obama supporters from the beginning. He is gonna be a great president. The anticipation is running high.

These photos are kind of far off, but if you look closely, you will see the tiny little detached head to the man in the other photo. I believe it had something to do with that alien!!

I have a few Christmas villages that I display on Christmas around the dining room. There is one in particular that I let the kids mess with if they want, and this year they loved doing that. There is nothing in there that is worth more than the fun they have just arranging, rearranging, turning the lights off and on. It is theirs, really. This year however, there is a horrible, strange creature lurking in the village. The poor people are completely unaware, except for the man in the foreground who has obviously lost his head somehow in the bargain. Upon closer inspection in the second photo, the missing head is spotted near a door. Will the little village ever be the same again after invasion by this giant headed woman on some sort of spacecraft? Stay tuned next year, and I will let you know.

We're going to Disney World! We leave on Monday. Two of our three kids and their kids - the grandkiddies are jetting off to Disney World. I can't wait for some sun and fun. There is no better experience than sitting at Chef Mickeys and watching those little cuties waving their napkins as the characters come dancing through the restaurant and loud music plays. It is a party atmosphere like no other. The faces of those little people are priceless and their reactions to the characters are hilarious.

My hubby and I went to Disney World for the first time in our late 30's. We found from the first time we set foot on Disney soil that it is the one place we can go and just be kids again. The first time we sat down on the monorail and heard that deep, clear reassuring voice say, "Welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth!" I felt my heart soar like it hadn't done since I was a small child. I felt absolutely giddy. You just don't find that very often in an average adult life. I was hooked!

As soon as we could manage it, we bought shares at Disney Vacation Club. Since then we have brought our kids and our grandkids, as they have come along, for at least one yearly trip down there. It is a place where we can be together as a family and let our cares float away like the huge balloons that manage to escape the grasp of their little owners and float away into the tranquil blue sky. When I see the balloon vendors on Main Street I am always intrigued about the pull upward that a mess of balloons like that would create against the force of gravity. What would it feel like to have a huge bouquet of balloons like that in your grasp? Maybe I will try it someday. It is on my list of things to do.

Well, time to pack my bags and get my boarding pass printed. Mickey here we come!! Get those Mickey bars and turkey legs ready for us.

New Years always puts me in such a contemplative mood. I spend time thinking about the year gone by and the year to come. I try to figure out what I was supposed to learn, and what lessons were wasted on me completely.

The past year was amazing and eye opening in so many ways. Topping my list was the election of Barack Obama. Man, what an exiting time this is for our country. We have elected the first African American man to be president, and what a good man he is indeed. I don't jump on band wagons easily, but in this case, I am glad we made the right choice. I feel hope for the year ahead because he is being inaugurated.

On a personal level, I have started to become more fit. The weight has not fallen off, but I have lost about 10 lbs. and I am feeling healthy, so that is good. I have to continue to work on my eating plan. I don't like to call it a diet.

I have also come to the conclusion this past year that having a big, fat Griswold Christmas is in the past for me. It seems the greater one's expectations for that happiest of all seasons, the more room there is for disappointment and hurt feelings. I am thinking that a beach in Hawaii looks really good for next year. Either that, or a beach in Florida - definitely a beach. I don't care if my midwest loving husband protests every step of the way, I am gonna take Christmas from now on to rest, relax and enjoy the true meaning of the season. I am done with the White Christmas and Holiday Inn scene. Done! Done! Done!

For the coming year, I intend to accomplish some of my personal goals, once and for all. Now that I am on the bottom side of 50, I don't feel like I have a lot of time to waste. Although there is longevity in my family, and my great-grandmother and grandmother lived into their 90's, you just never know. Maybe my sister and I will start a rock band. We can be the rocking grannies, although last night on New Years Eve we were goofing around and practicing some hip hop. We decided you can't really undersand what they are saying in unison anyway, so we could just give recipes, and no one would know the difference! We both wear short, baggy jeans already, so add a jersey, a baseball cap turned sideways, some chains and some high tops, and we've got the look! We can yell and bob and weave as well as any of those guys! Put a little pow wow step in now and again, and by gosh I think we've got it!! Gi-Le and JackRo! Catch us soon, we'll let you know when our first gig is.

I don't think I've ever mentioned my mother before. She is what one would term a live wire. She is in her seventies, but you would not know that by looking at her. At present, I believe she is working three part time jobs. She is a nurse, actually went to school to become one in her 50's and graduated top in her class. She gives me a lot to aspire to, and according to her, some of her traits have passed to me, without my even knowing it.

She and my dad recently moved to a senior apartment. She insists most of those people are way older and she really believes that. Not so much! But then they say age is just a state of mind.

Getting back to my story - somehow in that move, between climbing up on ladders and pushing relentless shopping carts full of stuff (they don't throw much away) she hurt her back and legs. She was in pretty tough shape. At one point I watched her slowly rising out of her miniature little recliner chair and having to literally force herself to take a step forward. I couldn't help but worry about her, and suggested that she take it very easy for a couple of days to let things heal. I knew she wouldn't do that, but I thought I would suggest it. The next day she called to say she was up on a ladder - much to my sisters' and my dismay. We always feel we have to watch her to make sure she doesn't do way too much, way too fast.

The back didn't heal quickly enough, so Mom decided to go to a chiropractor - another thing that worried me, because she didn't really get a firm diagnosis about her pain problem. Nonetheless, after a few treatments, her chiro declared her improvement to be phenomenal (of course), and told her she would need several more treatments.

She is now completely sold on this guy and his methods of treatment. She was almost gleeful on the phone, as she suggested that I too should consider going to this guy. "You have that same crooked back and one higher hip like I do," she declared. "This guy says he can really help you!"

What? I didn't know I had a crooked back and higher hip! I went to the mirror and studied my body - front, side, back. I couldn't see it, but maybe there was a problem I wasn't aware of. I dug out pictures from my youth. When I was in high school, I was a trim little thing. No one ever mentioned that I was crooked or deformed. My pictures didn't show that either. Some in those days actually thought I was Uh-Huh, not bad looking at all, and maybe even a little good looking.

I looked at my last drivers license photo, and also the one I just had taken (no more full body shots for this girl). I did notice that my jacket in both photos seemed to droop on the same shoulder, just the same amount on each one. Can it be? Am I really deformed? Or is it just that both times I probably had a 20 lb. purse on my shoulder, dragging me downward, ever downward. Could that be it? Is it the presence of my always heavy purse that makes my mother think I am deformed, or has the purse finally twisted my body in this horrible way?

She's got me thinking now...I guess I am going to have to make an appointment with someone to find out for sure. Until then, I'll just keep limping along.

Okay, I'll be the first to say I am no Pollyanna. Those of a "certain age" will get that reference. I am a bit of a grump sometimes, and I can get pretty cynical. All of that is a cover for a hot chocolate melty center - kinda like a Tootsie Roll Pop! Knowing that about myself, I am absolutely taken by the happy, optimism I am feeling these days. I can't help but think all of this is related to the fact that we now have a President-Elect we can believe in. He is a guy of moral and principle, and I really think he means what he says. I no longer feel like an adult child of an alcoholic who lives life being promised one thing, and getting another. Out of that comes a basic distrust of your fellow man. I do believe we have been living under the cloud of that for the past eight years.

Perhaps the U.S. is being washed clean, and we can emerge sparkly and clean, and maybe, just maybe we can feel proud again to say, "I am an American". It has been too long. I have hesitated to travel out of the country in the past few years, because in my heart I know other countries don't think much of the U.S. these days. I found it heartening that when Obama was announced as winner in the Presidential race, people in France drank champagne, and there were holidays and celebrations all over the world.

There are some that believe we have a new generation of youth who are enlightened and will be carrying forth in peace and beauty. Without becoming too metaphysical about all of that, I do believe I see a spark of something special in our youth, and I predict they will someday put down the distractions of youth and shine very brightly. I have five grandchildren who emanate a lot of that already. In the meantime, it makes my soul sing to know we as a country have evolved to a point where we have elected our first African American president. How cool is that? We definitely are better than we thought we were, aren't we?

I like many things about our new president-elect, but the one thing that stood out for me when I heard his victory speech last night was the fact that when he mentioned the groups of disenfranchised people in this country he named the Native Americans. I have found over the years many people, even those who have been discriminated against, have a tendency to forget the original minority. He didn't do that, and I thank God he is the kind of man who is inclusive and considerate of others

True, Native Americans weren't made slaves per se, but they were in many cases forced to work for nothing and they had all they owned and loved taken from them piece by piece while they were placed on reservations which became smaller and smaller. Those atrocities have all but been forgotten, because to make them right would involve paying massive sums of money, or giving back ill-gotten land, and it would literally change the landscape of the United States as we know it today.

Relatively speaking the numbers of Native Americans are small, and it is much easier to forget about the problem and the missing money being held in trust for them at the Department of the Interior. They just can't seem to figure out what happened to that money, isn't that strange? How can you lose millions of dollars like that and not know what happened to it? It is just another example of the injustices that have been visited on Native people.

Thank God for Barack Obama. I believe he is going to change the world in a very good way.

Since I see so many movies, I've decided to do my own reviews of a few that stand out. Today I went to see Woody Allen's Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Overall, I left the theater feeling satisfied, perplexed, and a little annoyed with Woody Allen's self indulgence on this one. That is not to say he doesn't deliver his usual rich, quirky characters, and dialogue as fresh as if it were coming out of the mouths of babes, but in the end he was a little more self indulgent than he was generous on this one.

Scarlett Johansson was vulnerable, adorable and spot on as the young adventurous Cristina-looking for adventure and romance. Xavier Bardem was scrumptious and the kind of rogue any woman would fall for. Penelope Cruz was perfect as the wacky, completely insane Maria Elena. I've always loved the Woody Allen dialogue - ad libbed in the stammering and halting nature of real conversation.

The movie had a narrator, and that sort of thing would annoy me in any other movie, but I'll put up with a lot from Woody. The ending, though - yeah, I'm not gonna be a spoiler and give it away. Suffice it to say there has to be a sequel. Come to think of it, that is probably what Woody was planning on. At least he'd better be. Woody, are you listening?

On the ninth anniversary of my brother's death, I find myself asking what he would have been like if he would have lived. He died when he was just 40, in 1999. He was so worried about the millennium, and then he didn't live long enough to see that it was all okay. Our computers didn't grind to a halt, banks didn't go into crisis, and those people that stocked up on food and water and cash did a whole lot of work for nothing.

He never had to endure 911 and its aftermath. He didn't have to have his faith in his fellow man shaken to the core. I have to admit he already had enough shake ups in his faith before he died. His world was changing too fast, and all that he believed in was crumbling before him. He was such a fragile guy in so many ways, and yet so down to earth and funny.

If he would have lived through that last day - if he wouldn't have died, how would it be now?  Being the loving and caring guy he was, I would bet he would have eventually gotten things back on track for himself, and he would have moved on with his life and been better for it in the end. He was a straight shooter who wouldn't hurt another person deliberately for anything.

What would he look like today? He would be prematurely gray and handsome. His kind face would have softened even more with age. He did have the spinal degenerative disease, and he might have been stooped over, or he might have been able to have surgery to straighten his back and fuse it that way. We all worried about him fusing bent over, and he was so self conscious of his disability. It wasn't fair that he had to have that, but it was what it was.

If he were alive today, he would be so pleased to see how his nieces and nephews have grown up, and he would have been thrilled to meet the nephew he didn't get to know as a child. He would chuckle as they reminded him of the crazy stories he used to tell them. He would go out of his way to get those kids scratching their heads and wondering if Uncle Bob was on the level about some of those fables. My favorite was when he told them that birds can sit on high line wires and not be electrocuted because they always perch with one leg raised. He would laugh his hearty laugh as he watched them sneak up to the wires and peer up into the sun, trying to see if those birds really were sitting with one leg up. I'm not sure they have stopped checking on that story, even now.

How I would love to be able to feel his reassuring arm around my shoulder in times of worry or distress. He was always there when I needed him most, and he said the right things to make me feel better. After he could see I was coming out of a sad spell, he would hit me with his trademark comeback, "Ya Knucklehead!" after which he'd laugh his hearty, one of a kind laugh. I'm really not so sure I don't feel that reassuring arm now and again, and his laughter still rings in my ears.

There's so much he would have loved the hell out of in the world of today. I think he would have liked Uncle Kracker as much as I do. That music always makes me think of him somehow. It brings back memories of the times when he would have all of the kids following him as he led them in a parade of silliness. I smile to remember it.

My sister lives in a townhouse right across from mine all summer. Today we had one of our epic summer days. We are both batching it this week and have the ability to do pretty much as we damn well please. Today we decided to go to a film. We picked My Winnipeg. We both love indie films and are game for almost anything, even subtitled animated films like Persepolis (which I found myself getting quite lost in, actually).

Since we grew up near Winnipeg, we thought it would be interesting to see that film, especially since the description of the film sounded like something light-hearted and comedic. We walked in with high hopes toting our expensive designer water, chocolate covered strawberries and a bag of popcorn to share. About 45 minutes into it, JMR looked over to me and asked, "What do you think?" I wasn't sure how to answer that. I fancy myself to be somewhat educated and savvy, and more than willing to take a mental romp through all kinds of movies and films. However, in this case I really didn't know what to make of this one. It wasn't funny, not particularly pleasing to the senses, and in the end we couldn't figure out if it was a documentary or a mockumentary. We concluded it was probably the latter and strangely unsatisfying...like eating a dinner of broccoli and rice, or something...so, we decided to seek out another film to give us that uplifted feeling we were seeking.

Our next choice was Young at Heart. It turned out to be heartwarming, funny, and sad all in one. We laughed, we jammed with the music, and we cried. We fell in love with the people in the band, and it inspired us to realize that we aren't too old to do anything we really want to do. In the end we walked out thoroughly pleased with the idea that we pressed on to see that second film. We left there Young at Heart and uplifted. Just the fix we were looking for.

We had a Father's Day breakfast today for my dad, who is going to turn 80 in two days. There were about a dozen of us at the Holiday Inn paying tribute to one of the most handsome, dapper 80 year old dudes you would ever call yourself lucky enough to meet. He was feeling pretty special- having all three of his daughters in attendance. It is a rare occasion when we are all in one place, along with kids and grandkids (his great grandkids)who were lined up in high chairs and feeling very much a part of this noisy, hectic, but safe group we call family.

We gave him cards and various sums of money. What do you buy a guy who wants for nothing? He wakes up each day smiling and joking and happy just to be who he is. He has been an inspiration to all of us, and has taught us how to smile, sometimes through pain - and that humor can heal a broken heart if you will let it.

He also taught us the value of hard work and always being there for those you brought into this world. There has never been a day when I have gone to him, and he has made me feel he was too busy to sit and chat with me over a cup of coffee about what might be troubling me. He has a knack for making you feel like the most important person in his life at the moment you are spending with him. He has been a tower of strength for each of us at one time or another, and a wealth of knowledge and wisdom.

He worked as a railroad man for 35 years to put food on our table. We never wanted for a clean home or the security of a warm breakfast and dinner. He provided that, helped by mom of course, who worked tirelessly as well. I always remember him as the one who coaxed us out of bed in the morning and greeted us with a warm bowl of oatmeal. He still makes the oatmeal every day. A treat for us when we visit.

I called myself lucky this morning to see that cool old guy circulating around both tables and giving hugs and kisses to all of us who love him so dearly. We are better for having him in our lives, and we know it. Happy Father's Day to the best dad a family could have.