Price-less

Gas to and from Hospital: $145.50
Seven-night stay in Hospital: $4,263.00
2 Cystocopies, 2 transurethral resections, 1 urostomy: $54,000.00
Larry home, cancer-free: PRICELESS !

The Story of the Big "C"

Do you realize that no single letter of the alphabet conjures up more gloom and dread than the Big "C" ? Not the small letter, but capitalized. It even comes with its own adjective, big, as though it has a first name. Its impact is that of a twenty kiloton bomb, leaving a mile-wide crater shattering your very soul. It's the stuff of movies, books, and TV, but somehow not your own life. It doesn't happen to you but to other people. One day all is fine, and then the next night you are lying in bed next to a loved one that has it. The "it" being cancer.
The. Big. "C".
Spoken with a hard "k" sound rather than the soft "s". Hard probably because it hits you that way. Today is the day we begin readying for surgery: packing a bag, fasting all day, boarding Max, our dog with our son. We'll be working on small unfinished duties, like setting out the garbage, putting the last of the gutter-guards on, moving the tropical plants inside because when the hospital stay is over, there is no lifting, only recuperation. I say "we" because Larry and I have always been one identity. Not a you, nor an I, but always we and us. I guess forty years of marriage does that to a couple. The surgery, hopefully, excises all cancerous cells and obliterates them to oblivion. In its wake will be new plumbing for Larry and some piece of mind. It's also the beginning of a "new normal" for us. A new routine to be learned, a new lifestyle to embrace whether we want to or not. The Big "C" has decided it to be so. The Story of the Big "C" doesn't ever have an ending. The cancer looms large in the psychic, always in the back of your mind, always making you wonder, "Is is really gone?" I guess in the scheme of things, on a world-wide spectrum, Larry's cancer doesn't have equal bearing to the conflict in the Middle East, to the homeless, to those families in far more pain than us, but it doesn't make it any easier to live with... Our familiy and friends have been our support on this roller coaster ride. The phone calls, the emails, the cards, and prayers are sustaining us. When our lives took a 180 turn, these things enabled us to get through the days. In the ensuing days and weeks to come, I'm sure we will make it, Larry and I. We did in the past and we will in the future. That's because we have each other.

Vette-ing !

Well, it's nine days until hubby's surgery: removal of his bladder and prostrate. We're apprehensive, of course, but accepting of the situation. After all, everyone says surgery is the better option than not having it! This weekend a perk came his way: a brand-new, spanking red Corvette. Wow, that made his day!

Scott's best friend, Ron, was its owner. How kind he was to give Larry some instant gratification! He sent Larry orders to run it wild, and, of course, he did. I never did ask him how hard he pushed the pedal, but I'm sure it was in the three-digit range! Driving a sports car with lots of engine power will get anyone's adrenaline pumping! Needless to say, the Corvette took him back to his youth and his GTO days.

Return of the Pelicans

A week ago the blacked-tipped white pelicans arrived in our cove. These migrating pelicans grace our waters for several months before heading south to the coastal waters of the Gulf. There is a great beauty in their migration. It's comforting to know that, no matter the circumstances, nature repeats itself. We are assured that as the birds fly their pathways each and every year that for us, too, dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter.


During the afternoon hours, the hundred or so are grouped together but a few glide solo, gracefully crossing the mirrored water.


Serenity at its best!

There is a Season...

Summer's Last Hurrah!
















"To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under Heaven."

We have all heard that song by Pete Seeger from the '50s. It's very apropos now that summer is ending, and fall is just officially twelve days away. Living on the Lake, though, the words take on a different meaning for me. When Labor Day comes and goes, family members and friends take out their boats and pontoons, winterize and store them. The boats hibernate in garages through the winter and spring until next boating season when they all come to life once again. And with this hibernation comes a let-down of sorts. Fewer and fewer friends around, less frequent visits by sons and grandkids, fewer gatherings around the old campfires... The list could go on and on. But with fall comes some good things as well. One has the urge to have a new beginning of sorts. (Take our living room makeover project!) A "nesting" feeling overcomes me, and I think thoughts of being draped in a warm fuzzy blanket, cuddling on the couch with a good novel. Sipping hot chocolate or coffee. Smelling a pot of chili cooking on the stove. Football Sundays! Watching a gentle rain. Listening to its pitter-patter on our porch roof. Windows, opened wide with the AC off. Life in the fall is very different than during the hectic days of summer. The change is welcomed though. How humdrum life would be with every day simply repeating itself...

Bye, Bye Miss American Pie(s)

One month ago we'd experienced the raid by a hord of raccoons. This past Labor Day weekend holiday we were hit again. This time it was a different thief: a bi-ped with biceps! (Ugly creature, I might add. The kind only a mother could love!)
The story has its beginnings in a small town south of us named Waterloo. A marital "disagreement" on the home premises of Shawn W. precipitated nephew Glenn S. to back over Shawn's apple tree. Since the punishment must fit the crime, apple pies were demanded in return. Glenn nor wife, Donna, were bakers. After all, Donna didn't ram the apple tree to begin with. Why should she bake the pies?
Sitting around the campfire late Saturday evening, after a heavy day of drinking and boating on the lake, in a drunken stupor I offered my services as pie baker, extra-ordinaire. Oh my, stupid me. Little did I realize on Sunday morning anyone took me seriously the night before. Arriving bright and early came the deposit of apples; Glenn was to provide the crust, Shawn the apples, and me the labor. All to be done by the 1:00 p.m. boat departure. Ultimately, the pies were finished and resting comfortably on the kitchen counter. Nothing like the smell of warm apple pies wafting through the house. Which brought us to the second problem.....son Scott realized we were not claiming ownership of the dessert. Rather, we were to relinquish the property to the Sandheinriches by dinnertime that evening. . Well, all that afternoon on the lake the pies were being held hostage. After all, possession, by law, mandates ownership does it not? At the end of the day the boats came into the docks. Everyone hungry for the evening meal. Our boat arrived first, followed by Glenn and the others. The gang unpacked the Cobalt's contents and headed to the house. Upon entering the kitchen, what to our surprise the pies were gone. Nada, zilch, nothing at all. Everyone's thoughts went immediately to the Sandheinriches. Of course, they had to have STOLEN the prize. But how? They arrived in the dock after us, didn't they? A recon group set out to their place, searching for the booty. Still no luck. Their troops denied any wrongdoings. No pies there! A second recon group went out and still no pies. At our place revenge was being planned. Alexis, a pretty 12 yr old, rounded up 7 rolls of toilet paper and thought we should teepee their home and make banners: PIE OR DIE. Sounded like a game plan to me. But everyone knows that revenge is best when they least expect it, so we postponed the raid for a later date.
Later that evening, sitting around their campfire, lo! and behold! the pies miraculously appeared out of thin air. With ice cream, no less! Finally we heard the confessions of the felon--Shawn. The sneaky twit had exited their boat, ran to their home and then snaked his way through the neighborhood to our home undetected. He grabbed the pies and scampered back to their place all the while losing his britches as he scurried about. We have no photos of him absconding with the booty, but we did manage a re-enactment of the lecherous felony. Where are the cops when you need them???

Tripping thru Arkansas

Last Monday, Larry and I arrived in Flippen, Arkansas, ready to battle the world-class record trout in the White River. Because of the heavy rains in the recent months, the river was three times its normal size. Excellent news for us novice fishermen...trout was to be had in high numbers. I have always loved fishing, even at a young age down in the creek with Dad nearby. You put that bait in the water and you don't know what's on the other end. My imagination is under there! We hired a veteran guide, Scott, (from neighboring Mountain Home) to float us down- and upstream on the river. Between Tuesday and
Wednesday the three of us floated close to fifty miles traveling in a long johnboat. Each of the mornings the river was coated with a dense fog, which generally cleared off by mid-morning. The fog added a mysterious, almost ghostly feeling to our trout fishing. For the first time in my life, I finally hooked (and landed!) three brown trout, one weighing in at three pounds. What a fish! Bragging may not bring happiness, but no man having caught a large fish goes home through an alley!!! That be me! The two days gave us fifty-eight trout, twenty of which we brought home for family and friends. Next year we hope once again to float the rivers of Arkansas.

Cruising on the Wild Thang
By Thursday morning it was time to leave the White River and head to Norfork Lake. We joined up with our friends from Mountain Home, Larry and Debra S. The game plan for the remainder of the week was to hop onto their 85-footer houseboat, The Wild Thang, and cruise the Norfork.

The boat's interior is quite luxurious with three bedrooms and two baths.








The top deck is outfitted with a bar and hottub and enough space to dance the night away! (which we did!)
The beauty of the boat was only outshined by the hospitality and generosity of the owners, Larry and Debra.









And what would be a trip without our old friends to join us! Altogether we numbered five couples, including our son, Scott and Tina, who hauled their boat down to the lake. Someone wrote: "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."


The sunrises and the sunsets were inspirational and dramatic!





Such a wonderful ending to such a wonderful trip!