For those of you who read these......

Hi, My name is Blue and I am Linda's youngest daughter. I found the log-in for my Mom's blog and thought that I would post a little something. My Mom (Linda) died June 20th, 2011 at 10:30 am from complications of her COPD. She has fought this disease for along time and could not do it any more. As much as it pains me, I feel some relief for her as she was in constant pain, both physically and mentally. She got to enjoy some great moments watching my kids(Alexis, Ashlyn, Aubrey, and Lil' Eddie) grow. She watched me turn into an amazing woman, mother, and wife. She watched my husband grow into a man, husband, and a great father. I do believe she is smiling at me for the joy and happiness me and my family brought her. I miss her more everyday and find it hard to find the strength the continue. I feel so lost without my best friend to talk to. Here I am rambling.......thank you all for being there for my mom.....~Blue~

Sweet Zzzzzzzzz.........

Once again it's.....

Masaic Monday at the Little Red House.

 

Sometimes, a good Z is the only way to go.

 

Teaching Ethel to drive the mower.

It's been a while since i have done this!
Linking to ...

Mosaic Monday   

Ethel is the Old Guy's cat. He rescued her from an un-caring family with rotten kids and big dogs. 

She would hide out on our deck every day, and she was a mess. Matted hair, ribs showing, weak and pitiful. I named her and he loves her.
She loves him right back. She follows him around, to the bathroom, where she will sit outside the door until he comes out, to his shop where he uses saws and all different types of noisy tools. She doesn't care about the noise, just as long as she can be close to him.
One day, while he was out mowing, he came knocking on my window, all excited...."come watch this!"....and lo and behold, the silly cat was playing chase with him, running after the mower, hiding behind the kids playhouse then rushing out after him. He was so proud!
Then a few days later, as he once again was mowing, he comes knocking at my window again, "get your camera!".... and there she was, on his lap, on the mower, riding around with him. Will wonders never cease.

He even built her her own deck outside his shop.

I don't have my own deck!

My Old Guy and his cat. Such simple sweet things can bring such pleasure.

Sniff sniff.

Is this national 'poor me' day? Or maybe it's 'self pity poor me' day.

It wasn't when i first got up. I felt ok.

But then........

this 'cold' hit me. Oh argh.

With COPD, having a cold is not just a plain ole 'sniff sniff' deal. It's a 'huff puff wheeze' deal. Which is basically my life everyday without the 'sniff sniff' part.
And there is a good chance that i may have to go to the doctor, again, and be put on antibiotics.
Again.

So, here i am, feeling put upon and picked on. Poor me.
In the last 4 months i've had this three times already, and now i'm going for #4.

I would really like to feel good for a day.
Instead of crying because i get out of breath just getting dressed.
I could just lay around in my jammies all day i suppose. But i really don't like doing that. It makes me feel lazy and worthless.

This morning i cried getting dressed. I cried putting Daisy out to pee. I cried pouring a cup of coffee.
It's a cry day.
BooHoo.

I get so mad at myself. I hate, detest, really get mad at self-pity. I am not a self-pity kind of gal. I learned at a very young age, self-pity is a weakness. Crying is a weakness. Don't cry.
But, sometimes i just can't seem to help it. Sometimes this crushing sorrow washes over me and leaks out my eyes.

I know that this horrible sickness i have is my own doing. I smoked for so long. I should have quit years ago, but i didn't.
My mother died with COPD, a sister died with it. And i kept smoking. And here i am. Paying the consequences of my choice.

But yet...i had plans and dreams, and none of them included having a hose coming out of my nose for the rest of my life. None of those dreams included sitting on the sidelines watching my family play and laugh, chasing and running and dancing. Nowhere in my dreams and plans did i see me having to lean on the counter so i could stand at the stove to cook. 

And so i cry.

I cry because i want to laugh without coughing.
I cry because i want to dance and play. I want to walk the streets of our little town, looking in windows, talking with people i don't know.

I want to live. I want to be alive.

There. That's done.

Strange lanquage

Have you ever paid attention to the 'word verification' words that you have to put in to comment on some of the blogs?

Very strange.
  I know they are not really words, just jumbles of letters, but if they were words, what would they mean?

I made a list of a few.

I'm kinda strange too.

How about 'OVEMIS' ?  Something to do with ovaries? ovens? over the mississippi?

Then there's ' JOLLOUS'. Most jolly? jealously jolly? Jolly louse?

Let's go ' MSHME'. Mush me? Mash me?  MightSheHaveMineEngine?

Oh, why keep to the easy ones? Let's get serious here.....' VANEADERS, SPHICTRI, GAMUNC, MITYPERS' for golly sakes.

'BOODSTI' has got to be one to describe me at this instant...why? no idea. Thats why.

Now that i have let out my secret, that i am a closet 'word verification' crazy person, it's time to go.

So, DIGHO all my blog friends. May your day be BOFACQ, and my you find all the MARDR you want.

giggle.

Faux curls.

Head on over to Jenny's for 

Mosaic Monday

In one of my "i'm bored" days i got to goofing around with one of my editing programs. I thought we ladies needed some curls. Goofy, but fun.
This is my mosaic for today, me and my 4 girls in curls.
Going left to right.... me, Leslie, Joyce, Lisa and Blue.

Sepia Saturday 60 : 5 February 2011

It's  time for Sepia Saturday again.....come see.    

Sepia Saturday 60 : 5 February 2011

 

I think i'll continue with Iva... 

this is Iva, her mother, Mary, and her 6 sisters. She also had 7 brother's, but i have yet to find a photo of them.

The second photo is Iva in her later years. It is my favorite photo of her, standing there with her hand on her hip. She was a pistol. 

Her hair hung to her knees, i remember sitting watching her brush it at night before bed. She would brush 100 strokes, then braid it.