UPDATE and I got a new camera yesterday

UPDATE: I slept some, here and there, in the recliner, in my bed, a couple hours at a time. I am happy to say that right now, my knees are not aching! The peripheral neuropathy has let up some, too. I am tired but satisfied with how I feel. I am thankful that I have the option of hitting that recliner again when I finish this post. And thankful for your continued prayers, love, and concern.



Yesterday Leland came over on his bicycle after he'd finished bouldering at the gym which is a about six blocks from my apartment. We visited awhile and got to talking about a Camera World event that interested the two of us, him because he'd like to look at the newest model of the camera he already had, me because I wanted to check it out too because my Nikon D5100, although I adore it, is just so doggone heavy for me any more. So, I said, "Let's go!" Camera World had e-mailed me about their Trade-In event--Leland had received it too--so their marketing ploy worked on the two of us. Leland rode home and came back in his car. We got a parking spot right beside the store, so I didn't have to walk far. The guys in the store brought me a comfortable chair which even had a place for me to put my feet, sort of a stool which was easy to get on and off. Anyway, we ended up trading in our cameras and getting a new one, each of us--we'll  be able to tell them apart because my lens is a newer model than his.

Now I'm shooting with an Olympus OM-D E-M5 Mark II. I've never owned anything but Nikon, so this will take a bit of getting used to. Leland has only owned this camera, so he's going to be a fantastic teacher and resource person who, by my having given birth to him, will happily put up with my asking the same questions over and over again until I am able to remember what I need to remember.

This is the third photo that I took with it this morning. These items sitting to my left as I type, atop one of those sectional book case cabinet things which you put together--you know, particle board covered in vinyl that resembles wood--mean a whole lot to me. There's the porcelain Cupie Doll that Mama loved; the blue glass head that I love; the painting of our darling Duncan that everyone adores (which we have thanks to Leslie and Chris); peaking out from behind it there's the owl that my Mama's mother Mama Sudie loved.

And standing over it all is a papier mache deer that I have named Ruby Pearl the Yes Dear Girl. I painted her myownself, with Yes Dear in various languages among the flowers. I love her because she reminds me how much my husband and I loved each other. You see, my sweetheart of a husband LeRoy loved to be out and about with our friends and throw in the occasional "Yes, dear." whenever he had the opportunity, sort of like he was the all-suffering man about the house. All of us knew that he was joking out the wazoo, that the two of us were equal members of our fine partnership of love. Anyway, when this deer ended up in my classroom years ago after having served as a high school skit prop, I couldn't just toss her out--yes, I know that girl deer don't have horns in real life, but, hey, she's made of papier mache.

UPDATE and missing these two today, a whole lot

UPDATE: I had another good night's sleep and have been less tired today. Still not as energetic as I was Monday through Friday, but more than yesterday which makes me hopeful for the upcoming week. Thanks for your continued prayers, love and concern.



Mama and Duncan, January 25, 2007. She'd had her 81st birthday on the 21st, Duncan was 14. A couple of wonderful, warm, funny lovers of life. I miss them all of the time, but for some reason, I'm missing them more than usual today. Thank goodness for photos like this one because they help ease the missing.

Chemo Round One, Day 3. Things it would be fun to do on a sunny day in Portland, except that it is supposed to be 100 degrees today. It was 103 degrees yesterday! Three cheers for the window unit!

Chemo Round One, Day 3. So far, so good. No nausea. No other side effects, really, except for feeling a bit achy, sort of like I have a teensy bit of the flu. I am hoping this continues throughout the day. Rachel, Leland's girlfriend, brought over a delicious beef barley stew that she cooked at home, some fresh blueberries, and then made some zucchini bites in my kitchen, from a recipe in the What to Eat During Cancer Treatment book that Julie from work loaned to me. They were delish, too!



Eating watermelon with Mama over where my sons live in Southeast Portland, like this we enjoyed one Labor Day weekend.



Eating a plate like this, over at the guys, one Memorial Day weekend. Those sons of mine can cook! Mama made the deviled eggs, but before she died those little beauties became my contribution since her stamina waned over the years.



Eating a plate like this, over at the guys, one 4th of July! See what I mean about those sons of mine and cooking! We moved here in June, 2006, and didn't cook a holiday meal until Thanksgiving, 2010. Those sweet sons of mine treated us every single time!

Anyway, Rachel's taken such good care of me that in a little while I think I'll take a short nap in the recliner. Oh, I ate all of that good food she made without even thinking of taking a photo of it--I was that hungry. Every bite tasted tasted just right!

July 26, 2008, out and about with the biggest reason I am me--Mama

Mama wanted to ride the MAX Light Rail and take in the sights. So on that sunny Saturday, we first rode the bus downtown from our apartment in the Alphabet District to have our favorite Portland brunch at the Bijou Cafe. Then we walked a few blocks and boarded the MAX Blue Line, west to Hillsboro. We rode all the way to the end of the line, got off that train and boarded the Blue Line to Gresham which is east of Portland. We didn't ride all the way out there, getting off instead at what was then PGE Park where we caught a 15 bus to get us within a couple blocks of home. We had a blast!



Here's a great example of Mama's outlook on life: Look ahead, take it in, and enjoy the view while you do!

I miss this little ol' lady a whole lot but am equally happy that she's not here to experience this cancer thing up close and personal. I wouldn't want to witness her initial fear and pain when I got the diagnosis. But, knowing her inner strength, I have no doubt that she'd be standing right beside me ready to reach out to squeeze my hand or give me a pat on the back.

UPDATE & Throwback Thursday. I took this photo on Friday, July 9, 2004, but that doesn't matter one bit because I'm using it today to show you my little Mama and me at the Bijou Cafe, eating our last meal in Portland on our first visit here to be with my sons. Now, she's gone, they're still here, I'm here, and the three of us are going to my chemotherapy appointment this afternoon.

If not for this woman, I'd be so scared at what I'm going to find out at 2:30 p.m. today.

As it is, knowing the smarts, the strength, and the determination housed in this sweetheart's little body all of her years--and because I am her daughter--I realize that I will come through the chemotherapy consultation  prepared to face what is next, not nearly as scared as I might have been.

My Mama (and my Daddy) taught my brother Howard and me to prepare ourselves mentally for what might be in our future, to rely on the love and support of our family, to see ourselves being successful, or, at the very least, coming out OK on the other side. My parents were not saints; they were hard-working people, trying to raise us the best that they could, by example in home life, work life, extended family life. Howard and I often speak about how we lucked out astronomically with the two of them as our Mama and Daddy. We'll tell that to anyone who will listen, smiling and feeling in awe as we speak, filled with great memories, loaded with impressions of strength and fortitude. Nowadays since he's still in Mississippi and I'm in Oregon, we talk on the phone very often, and I can see in my mind's eye the tilt of his head, the slight smile, the soft shrug of his shoulders, and the glow in his eyes when we're talking about Mama and Daddy, the blessings that they are our parents.

Because my husband LeRoy died when Lamont was seven and Leland was four, my Mama and Daddy and Howard played a huge role in helping to raise those two little boys into the men that they are today, not discounting one single iota of the influence of their Daddy's genes. He was the same kind of person as my parents. Able to see the humor and creativity and love in the people that the world sent our way, able to use inner strength and determination to get through what the world sent our way.

Lamont and Leland will be beside me at 2:30 p.m. today. There in spirit: Mama, Daddy, and LeRoy.

I love that I got to use one of Mama's favorite words in this post today, iota. She, who didn't get past the 9th grade, somehow discovered that iota fit perfectly when one wanted to discuss and extremely small amount. Thank you, Mama.

Bottle tree, powers that be.

Monday evening I came across a fine painting by Ellen Langford, a friend of mine, an extraordinary artist in Jackson, Mississippi. Her paintings are emotional, memorable, comfortable, like that feeling known as old home week, defined thusly: a reunion of former associates marked by special warmth or cordiality, as in a little knot of alumni having an old home week in the stadium parking lot. For me, the former associates are the paintings' subjects which harken to memories of mine. The paintings then gather me in with that special warmth and cordiality. I feel good all over.

I messaged Ellen on Facebook and let her know that, of all those images of chickens she'd just finished, I wanted to buy the one that included Gertrude, her voluminously-tailed backyard hen, some wash on the line, and her bottle tree. We agreed to settle up on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning she texted me, saying that someone wanted to buy the entire chicken collection, would it make me sad if I let go of the one I wanted and waited for another one, that I certainly had first dibs on it. I immediately told her that I could wait for another one as long as it included the three elements--Gertrude, wash on the line, bottle tree--whenever the muse struck her to paint it. The thought of all those paintings being together on someone's wall excited me.

Ellen replied. "Wonderful. Very generous of you! Do you have a bottle tree there to take away all of the bad cancer spirits?"

"No," I explained, "I don't have a bottle tree mainly because I don't have a yard." She said that maybe a bottle tree painting would serve the same purpose. I told her that's what I had been thinking when I saw the painting. She said, "I'll make you one." I didn't mention to her that I knew where to find the photos that I had taken of mine and Mama's Mississippi bottle tree back in 2004. I didn't say anything about those photos because the idea for this blog post popped completely formed in my mind instantly.



Immediately, I could see the bottle tree that my brother Howard had built for Mama and me, that we had at the end of our deck beside the fifth-wheel camper trailer we lived in at the Swinging Bridge Campground in Byram, Mississippi, right outside Jackson. Mama and I loved that bottle tree he'd made out of treated wood, complete with low shelves to hold potted plants.



We enjoyed when the sunshine lit up the bottles like jewels on a crown.

June 29, 2009 - Mama and I thought we were on a multi-night trip to Lincoln City. Little did we know that her heart had other plans for us.

We did get to see the beautiful Pacific Ocean from outside our nice room at the Ester Lee when we got up after spending our first night there.



We enjoyed watermelon before getting ready to go to the Chinook Winds Casino to play the penny machines, one of Mama's favorite ways to spend time when out and about.



Mama and I cleaned out half of that little Dulcinea Pureheart Seedless watermelon in no time flat.



See what I mean?



Here's Mama after she put her face on and a great big smile of anticipation. She's ready to go have some fun! Although I didn't look nearly as put together as she did, I was ready, too.

We won some, we lost some, we were just about ready to head back to our room because she said she wasn't feeling well when Mama had what I guess you could call a spell, but to tell you the truth, I'd never seen anything like it. Her little ol' self got rigid and shaky when she stood up off the stool in front of the slot machine. I got alarmed and asked for the casino to get us some help, so they sent their security people with a wheelchair. After checking her out in the first aid space inside the security office, they highly recommended that she get go to the local hospital ER. She wouldn't let them call an ambulance, so I quit wasting time trying to convince her to change her mind and got directions--it was not a long drive. At the ER, where they didn't have her records, of course, the EKG alarmed the doctor enough that he ordered her an ambulance for the ride back to Portland, straight to her primary care doctor's affiliated hospital. So, she left in an ambulance with the siren going, and I went back to the Ester Lee to put all of our stuff back into the car and check out. We lost our Christmas present coupon for the cost of those nights that my brother and his wife had given us, but it couldn't be helped. At least, that's what the management at the Ester Lee told me. And I had to call Lamont and Leland, not only to let them know what was going on with their Gma, but to also tell them that our plans to spend the two more nights there with them as our guests had now been cancelled. Luckily, they hadn't left Portland yet, so they went to the hospital just about the time that Mama should arrive by ambulance. When I got to the hospital in Portland, she was doing OK because they had her previous EKGs and such to look at and knew that what was going on could be controlled with her medication. She stayed overnight and came home to recuperate just fine. We enjoyed her company for another year and a half.

Just goes to show that we don't know what's next in life. Mama, both of my parents actually, that my brother and me and my sons that one should always be ready for whatever comes your way, to handle it the best you are able, and with a smile on your face if the situation warrants.

Poignant memory, May 17, 2010.

Here's the last photo that I took of Mama and Duncan together. He left us in June, 2010, she left us in January, 2011. Gone, yes. Forgotten, no. Beloved, forever.

With Sarah's help, I took some queenly advice!

Here's the advice, straight from H.R.H. Jill Conner Browne, THE Sweet Potato Queen, given to me on April 15, 2015, by way of a Facebook Message: Go out TODAY and buy yourself a FIVE-YEAR CALENDAR and start filling it up. Give no thought WHATSOEVER to being sick in any way. See yourself as healthy and vibrant, doing all the things you are putting in the calendar. Begin thanking God TODAY for your health and well-being. Praise Him for how wonderfully you are made and for all His magnificent Creation, of which you are an important part. All is well and all WILL BE well. xxoojill Thanks, Jill!

My friend Sarah came to my apartment yesterday with Burgerville Chicken Tenders and French Fries and the FIVE-YEAR CALENDAR, plus an added treat, the One Line A Day, A Five-Year Memory Book. Both the calendar and the book are exquisitely made so that they feel good in my hand, at my fingertips.




I'll be writing in them with my little Mama's favorite Papermate Sharpwriter #2 USA lead pencil, the one that advances the lead with a twist of its tip. Since she always wanted to have plenty on hand to use in her crossword puzzle books, I had a couple of unopened packages after she died in January, 2011. Since then, I've made my way to that section of either Freddie's or Walgreens, picked up another package and enjoyed the memory of watching her diligently complete one puzzle after the other while sitting in her recliner in front of the TV--Mama aced every single one! Now I keep a pencil atop this thick glass picture frame--that's us on July 9, 2004, taken by Lamont at the Bijou Cafe, downtown Portland. We ate breakfast there before going to the airport on the MAX and flying back to Jackson, Mississippi, after our first visit with Lamont and his brother Leland in Portland. Sweet memories.



See the tabs? There is one for each month in each of the five years. Enjoy my first entry!



I am astounded at the versatility of the memory book. You can see here how you're able to write in the year on a particular date before you record your memory! Brilliant!

Mama and Duncan, back in the day.

One of my favorite photos of my little Mama and Duncan, the darlin' dachshund. I took it July 1, 2007. We'd been in Portland since, June, 2006, and lived in the Presidential Court Apartments at NW 22nd and NW Everett since October, 2006. Our first apartment, in Southeast Portland, had sold in September, 2006, to be converted into condos. Not what we wanted, period. We lucked out and found this great place where we lived until Mama died in January, 2011; Duncan preceded her in June, 2010. They're out for a walk, as you can tell. Mama's a responsible dog owner, as you can see. Love those two so very much and still miss them to this day. Thank goodness for my camera and all of the chances that I got to take photos of them!

That's our building they're walking towards, with the trimmed green hedges alongside NW 22nd Avenue. We lived on the top floor, the fourth floor, in the corner apartment that looks down onto the intersection of NW 22nd and NW Everett. All three of us thoroughly enjoyed our lives in that apartment. I drove by in the last few months and noticed that all of the hedges are gone, replaced by wimpy looking, sparsely placed cedars, I'm guessing, with some sort of shorter bush in between them. I'll show you other landscaping that is gone in an upcoming post. I'm partial to the way it was.