The Weeps



Emily, Sawyer and Lidia. A major part of my HEART!


There is a new symptom to this getting old thing, ladies. Remember our talk about aging gracefully? If not, you can read about it right here. Well, a wise woman once told me that it was possibly not over, yet. Glory have mercy she was so right. I'm in a funk.

The new symptom is called The Weeps.  Much like 'The Mood', The Weeps will creep up on you when you least expect it. I mean, you live all these years knowing that life changes. You've experience multitudes, yet when certain changes come, they will throw you into an all out weep fest. There should be labels and warnings about such things. If you're experiencing similar feelings, let me just go ahead and tell you, I'm here for you. You are not alone. I've been in a weep fest for a couple of weeks now. Let me explain......

Have you ever wondered why we only get maybe 20 good years with our children? I understand that part of our job is to raise them up and give them wings. But I don't understand why it hurts so bad when they leave. You spend the better part of your youthful years raising and getting attached to the little buggers and then they up and leave some 20 years down the road. I mean, isn't there a switch or something you can turn on or off?  It's a mystery.

Anyway, I almost had to go to the insane asylum when my youngest daughter,Whitney, got married and moved to Denver.  I'm still not over that one and she's been gone for 2 years. My oldest daughter, Emily, hasn't lived at home for nearly 10 years. But, she has lived next door for the majority of that time. She is the mother to my two precious grandchildren. I've never thought about her and the children living anywhere but next door to me. Well, as life would have it, Emily is going through some changes of her own. She will be moving to the upstate and starting a new job in two weeks. OMG, I can hardly stand it. That means my two precious grandchildren, Lidia and Sawyer, will not be an almost daily part of my life.

Oh Lord, here come The Weeps!

See! See what I told you! They creep up when you least expect it. Excuse me a moment, please. Sniff.

Alright, I'm back. I'm ok for now. But, let's just say I'm afraid it's going to be a dark time for awhile as I adjust to this new change in my life. My daughter totally deserves this. I support her and am very happy for her. And, I am going to miss my grandchildren like crazy. They are going into a great situation with lots of people around them that love them and will look out for them. Still, it's not easy. I will make it through this change.......maybe not unscathed. 'The Weeps' seem to have taken root or something. But, who's perfect anyway? All I know for sure right now is that I will be traveling to the upstate a lot in the future. I look forward to weekends with LaLa and summers at the beach. Good thing my daughter's new home has room for me, too. Lidia is already planning the addition to her bedroom with a secret room....all for me. Lord how I love that child!

Hmmm, just had a thought....sleepovers in the upstate. Now that sounds like an interesting post, doesn't it?

So, here we are....a new dimension to aging gracefully and it's called The Weeps. And then there are the life changes; mostly good and necessary. Hard to swallow at times, but thank goodness we learn to adjust. I still don't like change very much. Unfair....you're darn right. But most likely, it's just me being selfish. So maybe instead of looking at it as 'my children leaving the nest and me', I need to look at it more like I accomplished the job of raising the two extremely intelligent, caring and compassionate girls entrusted to me, to the best of my ability. I have no doubt that my girls and grandchildren will make a difference in this world. If that is true and I believe it is, then the 'children leaving the nest' will be my greatest success.

Take that, Weeps!

And maybe, just maybe, growing old can be done gracefully after all.

Til soon,

Laurie

July Country Morning

 

The beach is great! Who doesn't love the sand, the surf and the sea? Restaurants are plenty, shopping is too. And, exercising at the beach is so much easier. There's lots of running and bike paths to conquer. There are running groups and training groups that are sitting on go.

 

But every once in awhile, I get so nostalgic for the country. I long for the familiar. Early mornings as the sun rises over a pasture. Country fences with wild flowers growing along side, deer grazing in a nearby field, crickets singing their cricket songs, watermelon and lemonade, water hoses and tree swings. Swimming holes and picnics, dew on the grass and birds in the trees. The hammock under the shade of an old oak tree and afternoon breezes, crepe myrtles and pecan trees. The feeling can only be quenched by going to such a familiar place. I've been feeling like that this week and I couldn't wait to get there. Home. I live in the country. And let me tell you, the ambiance is so much different here at home. 

 

This morning, I had one of the most peaceful experiences.....a July country morning run. While I ran in the coolness of the early morning hour, this glorious sunrise was my view. As the sun came up and starting peaking over the trees, it cast a warm glow on the horizon and the country came to life. There is hardly anything more awe inspiring than watching the sun come up over the ocean, but there is just something special about a July country morning sunrise.

Talk soon,

Laurie

Lidia's 4th of July 1-Mile Fun Run

Lidia....runner number: 1143

Lining up for the start and of course, she is on the front line.  

I can't believe I nearly forgot to post this. Our little 9-year-old granddaughter, Lidia, ran another race. Actually it was a 1-mile fun run, but to her it was definitely a race. She had been looking forward to it since she found out that Cliff was going to sign her up. Sawyer got sick the day before, running a temperature and had a sore throat so he would not be participating. It was so hot that Cliff was hoping since Sawyer wasn't running that Lidia might not want to either. No way, Jose! She was too excited. So, the night before, we laid out her running outfit and shoes. And she began thinking about strategy.

Here she comes.........center of the photo.

And, there she goes...

Race day came and the runners lined up. We already know adrenaline will make you do things you hadn't planned to do. She didn't plan to go out so fast, but she did. She didn't plan to have to stop and walk about half way, but she did. She got really tired and really hot. Thank goodness she listened to her body, though. She learned an important lesson about starting out too fast and about pacing. We really need to work on that with her before her next race. She had a ball and was so proud of herself for finishing. And so were we!!!

 

Post race: The best recovery drink, so they say, Chocolate Milk.

Isn't she cute?

Go Lidia!!


Come back soon,
Laurie

Overview: Month of June 2013

Hey people! Did you think I forgot about June's exercise stats? What! You did?!? Well ok, I nearly did. They're looking poorly, except for the mileage. Now you must remember that June was hot and I don't run fast in the sweltering, humidity laden heat. We also had a lot of rain, but guess what? I rode the bike in the rain and I even ran during some sprinkles. I know, it's a break through. I learned an important lesson, too.....I don't melt. Can you believe it?

Alright then, I won't keep you in suspense, any longer......just in case you were wondering:

June 2013:

Ran:               50.89 miles....whoa, way more than May...of which, you can read about (here).

Best Pace:     12:29 avg./4.81 mph avg......I know, seems like I'm regressing. It's the heat.

Longest run:   6.09 miles

Bike:               81.07 miles ......whoa, way more than May.

Best mph:       11:09 mph avg.....ho hum.

Longest ride:   25.27 miles....woo hoo!

Races:            Simpsonville Sunrise 8K Run

Get this...I've started to experiment in July. On my weekly run days, I've started biking directly afterwards. I'll let you know soon how that goes. So far, I overheated the first day and got nauseated and then the second time was better. I'll figure out the nutrition, hydration, heat and humidity. Surely, I will lose some more weight. Surely! Hopefully!

The half-marathon training officially begins Sunday....as in....group training....as in...7 a.m....every Sunday morning.  No matter that I'm not an early morning person. No matter that nausea haunts the heck outta me, if I get up too early. What the hay, no pain, no gain...right. I've already been trying to do a few longer runs. But, I need the expertise of coaches on nutrition and hydration and pacing during long runs, as in.....13.1 miles. I'll keep you posted on that, too.

Hold on...I'm wrapping it up.

Oh my sweet mercy, it's only six weeks until Cliff's re-match with Ironman ~ Louisville. I'm already getting nervous. I do it for both of us, so he doesn't have to. I'm compassionate that way.

Run on,

Laurie

There's A Thief On The Loose

 

Old Homestead on LaLa's Lane

 

Nostalgia is my friend. We hang out. We talk. We reminisce. Nostalgia makes me wish I were a pioneer woman, sometimes. But then I remember that pioneers used out houses and I snap out of it. But never-the-less, I love old stuff, old homes, antiques...you get the picture. The photo above is of an old homestead on our property. I don't know the history of this old home, but I'm sure it belonged to the family that owned our property many, many years ago.

 

This old house used to have an old tin roof and beautiful old doors. Nothing special, no artisan craftsmanship, just old and plain and I loved them. She was in a state of disrepair and would eventually just rot and fall down. But I could see potential at every corner. So, last summer we had someone start the task of disassembling her and saving the best wood to build a potting shed for me. It was an arduous task due to it's location and the heat from long summer days. But, we managed to start a pretty good stash. My potting shed project got put on the back burner and the old house still just stands among the trees just as you see her here.

 

I took this photo last week. When I saw it, I nearly went into convulsions. Because as you can see, my beautiful old doors are gone. GONE! Three of them...just GONE! I could not believe it. What happened to them....I just couldn't imagine. I had previously asked for the doors to be saved intact. I wanted to use them, just as they were, on my potting shed. The only thing I could think of was that the guy whose crew was taking her down had come back and removed them for me. I called him and of course, he had not. He asked who would want them...maybe someone who would sell them as antiques? Good question.

 

There's a thief on the loose and he or she or the devil incarnate has stolen my old homestead doors. And I am mad! First of all, the old house is not easily visible from the highway. You have to drive down our lane to be able to see it. So, someone has been casing out our property and came back when no one was home and stole my doors. I just can't think about it for long because I get so angry that I almost wish harm on the thief. I feel violated. I hope whoever has my doors might read this and understand how much I loved them and will return them. It's not likely, but I had to give it a chance.

 

Thank heavens, I had enough forethought to have the doorknobs removed last summer when the disassembling began. (See doorknob below). It's all I have left. For now, we will begin taking her down again to salvage the wood and any old bricks used as pillars. She will make a gorgeous potting shed and I can't wait. I will give her new life and she will shine as in her former glory.

 

 

Doorknob from the old doors.

 

To the thief who has my doors....I hope you seek forgiveness because if you don't, you and Satan are going to be bunk mates one day. And I also hope that stealing my doors causes you so much discomfort that you would gladly return them. Amen!

Laurie

 

P.S. - Cliff doesn't know it yet, but I am offering a reward for the safe return of my beautiful doors. 

The Bike Wreck

My tricked-out beach ride....and yes,

you've seen it before. It is the crashee bike.

 

Most of you have heard the story told, many times. You've even read Cliff's version on this blog before. If not, you can read about it (here). He's funny and can tell a story better than me. You'll laugh 'til you snort. Go ahead, I don't mind. But, I've had a few requests to hear my version. And since tomorrow, July 3rd, is the 3-year anniversary of said accident, I thought it would be a good time to tell it. 

 

Warning: It's long. I'm so sorry. But, a lot happened. And you can only condense things so much. Hope you have the stamina. Some caffeine might help.

 

~~~~~  The Bike Wreck  ~~~~~

 

It was an early, hot July morning. Cliff and I had gone to Murrells Inlet to join a group bike ride that left from the local bike shop. He was a regular. I was a rookie. It was only my third time out. 

 

I'm not sure how many were in the group....I would say easily 20 to 30. The group was divided by ability. A group = Super Fast, B group = Really Fast and C Group = Beginners and those who just didn't feel the need for speed. I was definitely in the C Group....for both reasons.

 

The ride began and all was well. It was somewhat difficult to keep up, but I pedaled like it was my job. The group was great at teaching me the things I needed to know, to do group rides. Things like....clip on shoes/pedals would help me ride faster. Bike shorts with a padded seat would make the ride a little more comfortable. Wearing tops that wicked sweat instead of cotton shirts that held on to every living drop worked wonders. Calling out commands or alerts to traffic coming up behind us and even hand gestures when starting to turn.

 

We had ridden maybe 12 to 14 miles and Mary, one of the bike shop's owners, needed to turn back so that she could open the shop. So, I turned back with her. I had no clue where we were. I didn't know the route or the neighborhoods we were riding through, so I was completely dependent on Mary. We were slowing down as we approached a stop sign. I was on the right hand side of the road and Mary was on my left. Not knowing the area, I thought we were going to turn left. But instead, we needed to turn right. Here is where things went wrong. My bike continued to turn left and Mary's continued to turn right. My front tire barely touched her back tire and we went down. Mary fell...fast...and, so did I.  I fell so fast that I couldn't catch myself....that and being inexperienced in proper dismounting procedures. I fell with my left arm outstretched. Y'all, it was like a bomb had exploded. I could see stars and stripes. I went down on my left elbow first and then onto the inside of my upper arm. I slid on rocks and then rolled back onto my head. Thank heavens I had on a helmet. Mary had already jumped up and ran over to me. She asked if I was ok.....but, I was hurting bad. I grabbed my arm at the elbow and held it close to my body. That was the only way I could get relief. I'm so glad Mary had her cell phone. She called 911 to dispatch an ambulance and then tried to call Cliff. He didn't recognize her number, so he didn't answer his phone. She then called her husband, Tim, who was riding near Cliff, to tell him that I had fallen. They would meet us at the hospital. After all the calls were made, Mary tried as hard as she could to comfort me. I knew she had to be hurting, too. But, bless her heart, she never said a word. So, we just waited. We waited and we waited.

 

As I laid on the road, in the fetal position, coddling my hurting arm, a very nice neighborhood lady, who saw what happened, brought out a blanket for me to lay my head on.  She also volunteered to take our bikes back to the shop. Wonderful lady!

 

Still waiting for the ambulance, Mary was doing everything she could to make me comfortable and to keep my mind off the pain. I told her, "Dang Mary, I was planning to lay out on the beach today." We laughed. Then I told her, "I sure am glad I shaved my legs this morning." We laughed some more. We could hear a siren in the distance. It came close and then it stopped. What? Are they lost? So, we waited some more. It must have been 15 minutes later and we finally heard the siren again. Only this time, it didn't sound like an ambulance.

 

"OMG, Mary! It's the fire truck!" There I was laying sprawled out in the fetal position on a back road somewhere in the middle of Murrells Inlet and firefighters and a fire truck showed up. Oh wait, this might be good. Two young firefighters hopped off the truck with a back board coming to save me. One of them asked my name and then told me his....I believe it was something like Jeremiah. It was unusual, but I liked it and I told him so. The other firefighter, who had a common name like Justin or something, spoke up and said, "Well, what about me? Don't you like my name?" Ok, that broke the ice. As it so happened, there had been a second bike accident. The first siren we heard was supposed to be my ambulance, but they stopped at the other bike accident, instead. So, 911 sent the fire truck to me until a second ambulance could be dispatched. Are you still with me?

 

Now, if you know anything about accidents of the "falling nature", then you know you must consider the possibility there could be a broken neck or back. So you protect those at all costs. Hence, the back board and harnesses. Oh yes, they were going to strap me to the back board. Once the board was placed behind me, they asked Mary if she would hold my legs steady while they rolled me over onto it. She gladly did. And right there in the middle of the road with the two young firefighters hovering mere inches above me, Mary says, "Oooh Laurie, you sure do have smooth legs!" Well, I nearly wet my pants. I'm pretty sure I heard a snort out of one of the firemen. Good thing I found that funny. Right about then is when the pain got really bad. The only comfortable position I could find was on my side holding my arm tightly to me. By this time the ambulance had arrived and the EMS guys insisted that I lie flat on my back. OMG, it hurt. I moaned and groaned all the way to the hospital. I felt every bump and rolled with every turn.

 

We arrived to the ER and Cliff was there waiting, as the ambulance pulled up. He was the first person I saw when they wheeled me out of the ambulance. That was a welcome sight! I felt some better just knowing he was there.  Inside the ER, I was placed in an examining room and the fun began. Now, I don't remember the exact sequence of events that happened in the ER, but I'm just going to give you the important ones.  The ones like seeing the drop dead gorgeous ER doctor walk in. For a split second, I thought, hmmmm, it might have been worth falling off the bike for this. I quickly dispelled that thought. The pain took over. The pain did not like the nurses and doctor and x-ray techs moving my arm in all sorts of positions. It screamed and cussed. The nurses gave me medicine. And when it didn't work, they gave me more. When it made me nauseated, they gave me meds for that. I broke out in all sorts of sweats. I made Cliff grab a laminated chart of some sort to fan me with. A good friend, Michael Wilson, showed up in the examining room. The ER knew him well....he could do as he pleased, basically. He worked for the funeral home. Ha! Ha! When I saw Michael come in, I wondered if St. Peter had sent him a memo. But no, I was assured, I would be ok. Michael had been on the bike ride also and had just come to check on me. He started stroking my hair and the thought came to me (sort of like the shaving thing)......Oh Lord! I should have washed my hair. I may have said it out loud because I vaguely remember hearing Michael saying something about how he always stroked Linda's hair, when she didn't feel good. After Michael saw that I was going to be ok, he left. He and Cliff still had on their skimpy bike clothes and I'm sure they may have started feeling sort of naked and vulnerable.

 

At some point, the nurse needed to ask me some questions, for the records. I answered each one until she asked how much I weighed. What! I know she didn't! Oh yes she did. "I can't believe you just asked me that right in front of my husband." Well that just threw them both into hysterics. I made Cliff leave the room. And then I still wouldn't answer the question until I was assured by the nurse he was far enough away that he couldn't hear. She may have thought I was crazy. But hey, wreck or not, pain or not, loopy from the pain meds or not....I had enough good sense to know that I was not about to reveal such a sensitive number as that. I still had my pride!

 

X-rays done, pain meds administered, diagnosis made. The doctor came in and said, "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that it is not dislocated (which is what I thought). The bad news is that it is broken very badly."  Well, crap! He wanted me to go see an orthopedic surgeon in the next few days because he said that it may require surgery.

 

What the heck? I mean, I finally started to get some exercise and then it came to a screeching halt. So, I did what any woman in my position would do. I put on my big girl panties and dealt with it. They placed me in a sling and swath, probably gave me more pain meds, prescriptions for pain meds and care instructions and wheeled me to the front lobby of the hospital where Cliff and I waited for Whitney to come give us a ride home. I was in a wheel chair in an upright position, of which I had not been in for a couple of hours. And, I was full of pain meds, most of which I was probably allergic to anyway. And then it happened....I puked right there in the lobby...right by the security guard sitting behind the information desk. The reverberations could be heard all over the lobby and down the halls. Good thing the ER sent me out with one of those pink basins. It caught everything. A couple of people sitting across the hall left abruptly, once the heaving began. Good thing. No need for everyone in the hospital to hurl. Cliff was a good sport. He took care of the pink basin and made sure it was clean and available in the event it was needed, for a future hurl.

 

Whitney finally arrived and as Cliff was wheeling me to the car, she jumped out, came over to me and asked, "What happened Mama, did you run over another snake?" I felt like smacking her, but I didn't have but one good arm and it was still clutched around the pink basin. She was going on information from the ride a week before. There had been a dead snake in the road and I rode right by it, before I even knew what it was. Gave me the willies. I hate snakes dead or alive. So, she just assumed it had to be something of that epic proportion to cause me to wreck my bike.

 

Once we were back home, Cliff fell into caregiver mode. Oh yeah, he made a jam-up nurse! He sent Whitney to the pharmacy for my prescriptions. And Lord knows, before anything else happened, I needed to wash my hair. Well, I certainly couldn't do it. I was drugged up and only had one arm. So, Cliff had to. There was only one way to get it done. He cleared the kitchen counter, cleaned out the kitchen sink and laid me on top of the counter with my head hanging over the side. Best shampoo job I ever got! Oh wait, in case you were wondering, he was duly threatened if a picture of that incident ever showed up.

 

 Well, what a day? I was exhausted. The rest of the long story made short....I was fortunate that I did not have to have surgery on my arm, but I did have three fractures of the humeral head and one at the surgical neck. I had to wear the sling and swath almost three miserable months and then had nearly another two months of physical therapy. Oh and get this, I also tore a ligament in my right thumb in the same accident. After my arm was well enough, I had surgery to repair the torn ligament and was in a cast for another few weeks followed by more physical therapy. So, that's it. Most of it wasn't so funny at the time, but now I can laugh about all the crazy stuff that happened. It took a good seven to eight months to completely get over the accident and then another couple of months before I could get up enough courage to get back on the bike. But, I did. And today, even though I'm skittish about riding with a group, I do enjoy riding very much.  

 

Happy Fourth,

Laurie

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer of 1973

 

Black River - March 2012

 

I don't have a picture of Black River from the summer of 1973. This picture is of the newer bridge. The older one, the one during the summer of 1973, was replaced a few years ago. But, the view of this bridge would have been much the same. The only differences are that the water level was much higher and of course, the trees would have been greener.

 

I'm not sure what made me remember the summer of 1973. It could have been that sitting here listening to the rain coming down had something to do with it and the fact that The Weather Channel has been posting flood watches for our area on and off the last few days. But for whatever reason, the Summer of 1973 came to mind.

 

I was a young teenager.....just 13 years old and was spending the summer in Spartanburg with my Granny. Mama would call every few days and on this one particular day had bad news.

 

It was mid June and it had been raining for days. Black River was at flood stage. The river was running fast and no doubt had debris from the banks floating down river, as well. Two local Andrews teenagers had the idea to jump from the Black River bridge. As they dove from the bridge, a man standing nearby saw the two and immediately knew they were in trouble. He was able to help one of the teens to safety and attempted to save the second teen. He said that the water was running too fast and he was not able to save the boy. It is believed that when the teenager jumped, he may have hit some debris floating in the swollen river. It was days before they found his body.

 

I had to do some research and asked the question on Facebook, if anyone remembered the accident. Right away, a couple of friends told me who he was. His name was Tommy Young. He was only 15 years old.

 

Tommy was not the only one who lost their life that summer. The local newspaper reported that five had drowned in our county within a few days of Tommy.

 

Again, I'm not sure why I remembered this. But I'll just take the opportunity to say, freak accidents happen. Be careful out there. Stay alert and don't put yourself in dangerous places.

 

Have a safe and really fun summer!

 

Laurie