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  From Cowgirl to Car Girl If you caught last week’s post, you know my parents moved to Arizona when I was four years old because I had asthma. If you didn’t catch that post, I put a link at the end of this one so you can check it out.  The move to Arizona likely influenced my decision to be a cowgirl when I grew up. Well, that and the fact my dad and I watched westerns on television every Sunday afternoon. In Arizona we went to rodeos and visited Old Tucson. My closest friend was a Mexican girl named Moey. She taught me a few words in Spanish. Her mother cooked tortillas on a griddle, flipping the thin round flour food they used as we did bread, with her bare hands. I was fascinated. We pretended broomsticks were our horses and we fought wild Indians together. (No comments on not being “politically correct” here, please. I was four.) We moved back to Ohio near the end of my first-grade year to the house where my father was born. It was on my grandparents’ property. The move w...

  The Gift of Caring Parents This past week I went to the doctor for my annual checkup. I’d gained a couple extra pounds. That didn’t surprise me. Mike and I have had a crazy schedule for a while. Eating fast food and taking our meals at varying hours doesn’t bode well for me. It’s just the way I’m made,  But when the doctor listened to my lungs, she frowned.  “I had asthma as a child,” I told her.  “You have asthma  now ,” she said. “You are very asthmatic.” She sent me for further testing and prescribed an inhaler.  Not the news I wanted to hear. My parents heard that same statement many years ago. Nothing helped then. Nothing. The doctor recommended we move to Arizona until I “outgrew” my asthma. It was a huge sacrifice for them. We moved to Tucson. I was four years old. I have always held great admiration and gratefulness for my parents embarking on such a journey because of my health. Dad left a good job without knowing what he would do when he reached...

  Mama's Day Mother’s Day is joyous for many, hard for others.  I’ve given everything from a bouquet of dandelions to full blooming rose bushes to my mother through the years. But now that I am an adult, I’ve learned the gift of time is what we all value most.  This Mother’s Day, my daughters and I (all moms, ourselves) presented my mom with a special sort of gift. We drove her to Kentucky for the weekend to the place where she grew up. On Saturday, we visited the cemetery where her parents, maternal grandparents, and brother as well as her great grandparents, and other family members are buried. L-R: Mom, Danielle, Allison, Kendall & Me I should note, we couldn’t have done this without the help of my cousin, Gerry, and her husband. It’s a hike up the side of a steep hill and not ideal for a ninety-three-year-old. Harold and Gerry drove Mom up in a truck while the rest of us made the climb. All of us. That included three of my mother’s “younger” cousins who were there...

  It’s Time We Had a Rather  Moving  Conversation If you follow my blog, you know my mother moved to Florida. Mostly. She has been living in a condo about six miles from our house. She bought it and moved in right away. One little glitch…most of her belongings were still in Ohio. She had a bed, a couple of chairs and a sofa. She had a small dining set, a washer and dryer. Basics. I loaned her a small skillet and saucepan. Doable for the short term. As for dishes? Paper plates, plastic cups, and disposable silverware is fine for a picnic or party. But every day? Fortunately, Mike had a spare coffee pot and we had mugs. But still… Even her car was safely tucked away in her Ohio garage. Mom has lived that way since the end of March.  She made the most of her time. She has met several neighbors, gone on long walks with a few of them. We pick her up in Mike’s truck on Sundays for Cowboy Church and in Mike’s boat on occasion for our Friday night cookout. I take her with me...