Tag Archives: Julie Lary

Invocation #24: New Years

07 Sunday Jul 2013

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On this, the second day of the year 1985, O Lord, we want to offer up a Thank You for allowing us to come this far in Time.

We are appreciative of each New Year added to our life span, and mean to bring credit to each one.

While most of us seniors are past the point of seeking new worlds to conquer, there is still much to see, much to do, much to give, and much to understand. And in all that we want to be active participants.

All we need, O Lord, is the help of two magic words; good health. With all else is possible; without it, much is lost.

We humbly ask, O Lord, for the precious gift of good health; in mind, body, and spirit.

This invocation was written in January 1985. At the time, my grandmother was 77 years old. She would live another 13 years, passing away in her sleep. Until the last few years of her life, she was active, gardening, cooking, cleaning, writing, walking to the grocery store to shop, and taking care of her husband, Morris, who was a few years older.

If she had aches and pains, she rarely complained. She pushed through, looking forward to each day and an opportunity to experience something new. In the afternoons, she watched The Merv Griffin Show, delighting in his guests, and his unique humor. She also liked to watch the Dick Cavett Show; who was significantly more intellectual with wry observations and more worldly guests.

My grandmother’s curiosity and zeal for knowledge never waned. Her comments, “much to give, and much to understand,” was central to her personality. Fortunately, she was blessed with the two magic words, “good health,” which extended to her mind, body, and spirit.

This Time I Didn’t Bounced Outta’ the Boat!

07 Sunday Jul 2013

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Several months ago, Rich and I attended a fundraiser, where we won two silent auction packages. One was a white water rafting trip on the Wenatchee River in eastern Washington through River Recreation

With the weather expected to be in the 90’s over the weekend, I wasn’t looking forward to baking on a raft, with the sun reflecting off the water, further radiating my skin. Friday evening, we sifting through the bathroom cupboards, searching for the scarcely used tube of sun block. Finding none, we moseyed down to the local Safeway. While there, we stocked up on bottled water for the trip, and bought breakfast fixings.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, and hash browns, which Rich cooked, we hit the road.

Our first stop was a roadside stand where we bought $2 worth of local Bing cherries. We hastily wiped them on our shirts and popped them into our mouths. They were sweet and juicy, no doubt, picked from the tree hour earlier.

The drive out to Monitor, Washington, where River Recreation is located, is punctuated with fruit stands, and acres of fruit trees, laden with apples, cherries, and pears. They’re in neat rows, spaced to accommodate pickers and large wooden crates.

Wenatchee, which is a little over 2 hours east of Everett, and near where we were going to raft is considered the “apple capital of the world,” with 170,000 acres of apple orchards, comprising the majority of the apples produced in Washington, Crops include deep red to light green apples, Braeburn to Cameo, Cripps Pink, Fuji, Gala, Gingergold, Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Jonagold, Pink Lady, Rome, Red Delicious, and Winesap.

Each year, 10-12 billion apples are handpicked in Washington State. It’s the largest agricultural product grown in the state, and 60% of the apples eaten in the nation come from Washington. It’s not surprise that Treetop has a plant in Wenatchee, with around 150 employees, producing low moisture, chilled and frozen apple ingredients for the food industry. In addition, the Aplet and Cotlets factory is in the area, along with smaller enterprising producing fresh and alcoholic apple cider, and other apple products.

Further down the road, we came to Leavenworth, which is an over-the-top tourist town with nearly every building architected and painted—including the auto repair shop – to resemble a Bavarian village. Even the Best Western is called the Icicle Village and Starbucks has a German theme. It’s quite a few blocks of shops, restaurants, hotels, outdoor stages, and landscaped areas idyllically, sandwiched between dramatic mountain ranges, which like Leavenworth, is blanketed in snow during the winter. It has year-round festivals and events, and is a popular place all times of the year because it’s family-friendly, closing to skiing, rafting, and other outdoor activities.

I’m not delighted by anything German so the town is more obnoxious than delightful to me. Nevertheless, with time to spare before our rafting trip, we put $1.50 in the meter, and decided to walk around the outdoor art festival. Before we could start walking, however, I was recognized by someone I worked with when I was a contractor at Microsoft Kinect for Windows.

Small world because I’d only worked with her a short time! It was fun to catch up and learn what was happening in the group.

With our fill of Leavenworth for the year, we hit the road and headed to Monitor.

One of the tour guides, described Monitor as two houses, a pallet factory, and River Recreation, the rafting company. According to the 2000 census, 342 people live in the Monitor zip code. It definitely had a has-been feel with dusty streets, and run-down buildings and houses. River Recreation was super cool, and a had a fabulous vibe with numerous picnic tables under umbrellas, large painted school buses, a warehouse full of wet suits, half a dozen tents for the guides under a grove of trees, and several large BBQs, fired up, cooking lunch for the guests. Rich and Julie at River Recreation

River Recreation oversees guided tours twice a day. A group of rafters go out in the morning, and return around 1 p.m. for lunch. A second group is asked to arrive before 1 p.m. Following lunch, they hits the rapids. We were in the second group, which provided time to work up a healthy appetite. Fortunately, they served barbequed chicken legs, pepper beef, green solid, three-bean salad, tortilla chips, watermelon, and white bread with soft-spread margarine. No doubt, it was Costco-to-table, but sufficiently tasty and filling.

After lunch, there was a bad rush to get wetsuits and booties. It’s the first time I’ve worn a wetsuit, which is comfortable once you pull it on, but quite the chore to pull up… especially when rushed. We were each given a paddle and PFD (Personal Floatation Device), and then herded onto two large school buses. Fortunately, the 90+ degree weather hadn’t manifested. It was overcast and delightfully cool.

During lunch, we were joined by another couple, Kevin and Christine, who live on Whidbey Island. The probability of sitting next to someone who lives on Whidbey Island, during a rafting trip in remote Monitor, Washington, is close to zero. They are a delightful couple who shared interesting information about island life, computing on the ferry, and the challenges of getting a job, which is akin to one’s field. In Kevin’s case, he used to create and archive media for Disney in Los Angeles. He’s an expert is converting media to various formats for print, video, and other digital formats. Currently, he works at Nintendo.

We were hoping to be in a raft with them, but because I needed to take a pit stop when rafts were being assigned, we ended up on other raft with a Russian couple who live in Richmond, Washington, a hedge fund manager who works in Bellevue, and his associate, an Asian woman, who was visiting from Chicago. Our river guide, Brian, was from Bellingham, just north of the Canadian border.

As we drove to the drop-off site, the overcast skies, and distant lightning and thunder, turned into a hefty rain shower, which let up once we arrived… and then started up again a few minutes later. It was a torrential downpour. Fortunately, we were wearing wetsuits so it didn’t matter if we got wet.

There was a large group of rafters, from another company, in the water when we arrived so we not only had to wait for them to paddle down the river, but wait until River Recreation put all 17 of their rafts (we were towards the back of the pack) in the water… each with a minimum of 6 rafters and one guide per boat. Do the math. There were lots of rafts and rafters taming the rapids that afternoon!

Prior to our departure, we listen to a safety lecture with instructions for what to do if you fall in the water, how to get back in the raft (or float down the river with your knees bent and toes out of the water), how to help someone into the raft, and also how to correctly use your paddle. I was surprised at the extent of the safety lecture… as if people regularly fall into the water…

The first few minutes of the trip was spent learning how to paddle as a team, and understand the instructions barked out by our guide. It didn’t seem overly strenuous. It would certainly be easier than paddling a canoe with Rich when I’m in the front doing most of the work, and he’s just steering!

Our first set of rapids was exciting, pitching the boat from side-to-side. My first reaction was “Let’s do it again!” And “do it again,” we did numerous times for the 3 hour trip, which included taking out the raft by a small dam, and walking around the dam before putting it back in. At one point, the guide asked if anyone wanted to ride the next rapid – Snow Blind — on the bow of the raft. Rich volunteered me.

I was able to get on the bow with my slippery wet suit, but fell back into the boat, which was the instruction from the guide should I fall. The two men in the front of the raft were able to prop me back up on the bow, just in time for me to see the raft dip down into a crater of water. I held on tight for another few rapids, and then we came to a doozy of a rapid. I was immediately flipped into the boat with a tsunami of a wave that landed on top of me, knocking off my hat, pasting my glasses to my face, and cleaning out my nasal and brain cavity. It felt like I was underwater for 20 seconds or more.

Drenched, I slithered back to my seat at the back of the raft, happy to keep a low profile for the rest of the trip. At least, I hadn’t fallen out of the raft! The first time I rafted on the Guadalupe River in Texas, I was sitting on top of a back rests, and flipped out of the raft when we hit the first (and only) rapid on the water.

Throughout the trip, we could hear thunder and saw lightening in the distance. And several times, we paddled through a downpour. Crazy weather considering it was supposed to be in the 90’s.

Towards the end of the trip, we came to calm water, and the guide described several “games” we could play. One was rodeo where someone stands on the bow of the boat, holds onto a rope, and leans back while the rest of the rafters paddled in a circle. The hedge fund manager was game. He stayed upright for a minute or so and then found himself in the river. Rich pulled him out.

Another game is between two people who lock oars, lean back and walk themselves towards each other using their hands on the handles of the oars. Rich’s and my height difference would have guaranteed that I fall into the water. No thanks!

Most of the rafts had willing participants in the game… falling it the water, and then being retrieved. It became obvious why they’d given detailed instructions at the start of our trip about what to do when one falls into the water, and how to get back into the raft.

By the time we got back, the rain had subsided. It was nice to change into dry clothes, say our good-byes to our raft-mates, and Kevin and Christine. Maybe we’ll bump into them when we move to Whidbey Island in a few years.

Poke Bag of Pearls

28 Tuesday May 2013

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This evening, while shuffling through my grandmother’s papers, I came across several pages torn out of a diary from 1956. Being frugal, my grandmother must have saved the pages, which she hadn’t written on, and 37 years later used them to jot down what she called “pearls of wisdom,” from her poke bag.

She started writing the pearls on March 17, 1993, adding new observations, and putting to paper ones from years early… no doubt written on scraps of paper. The short observations “Loot” and “Forethought” were taken from two snips of paper, tucked in the diary. The latter written on the back side of a promotion for flooring, roofs, insulation, and other household services.

Enjoy the start of my grandmother’s pearls:

March 17, 1993

They say that even fools know enough to gather up the little pearls of wisdom their senses encounter as they trod along life’s pathways. Let’s open up my poke bag and see what I’ve gathered up or concocted.

Finding the use of the word “poke” with “bag” unusual, I looked it up. The noun poke, meaning a bag or sack, dates from the 14th century. The idiom, “a pig in a poke,” refers to concealing something in a sack. It can also infer a buyer was duped by buying a low-quality pig because they didn’t carefully check what was in the bag before making the purchase.

December 18, 1969

Envy, smoldering in the eye, sets the whole brain afire

The club hostess’ lament: Many hands are willing to slice the pie; few are willing to bake them. Rose_cropped

Knowledge is where you find it. Finders keepers.

Loot

Talking about statistics: If you have one foot in the oven, and one foot in the refrigerator, one the average, you’re comfortable.

March 23, 1986, 5:00 a.m.

Stepping out the front door to get the newspaper, I was almost overcome by the fragrance that filled the air. A sweet hardy perfume.

Orange blossoms? Lemon? Lilac?

I took a deep breathe, but couldn’t tell which. The perfumer could outdo Mother Nature in creating fragrances.

Then I hear it. The absolute quiet. Not a car was rolling down the street or zipping around the corner.

A rare moment in time and I was privileged to experience it.

September 24, 1992

When the sound of laugher is stilled, the silence reverberates forcibly with the threat of despair to come.

March 16, 1993

Try as I might, I still cannot find anything good to say about illness and pain. Except perhaps they service to remind us that our bodies are not made of iron or steel. And even they break under pressure.

Can anyone go through a reasonable spin of life without ever experiencing pain or sickness? How lucky for them. Or unlucky?

Forethought

By the time I figure out what I’m doing wrong, I’ve done it.

Rose Ridnor

Invocation #23: December

12 Sunday May 2013

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We are now in December, the final month of the year 1984.

The year sped by all too quickly marked by days that were good, and days not so good, by times of serenity, and times of turmoil.

But we have survived. And so has the world.

When we turn the page to the New Year, it will be as a new beginning. A fresh start. A fresh new leaf to be writ upon.

All we ask O Lord is that the hand that write be firm and steady; and the ink that flows from the pen be bright with faith and vitality.

That we be given your blessing of good health so we may be able to maintain our lives on our own.

And that the world be blessed with good feelings towards all its people, and between all its nations.

At first thought, I had nothing profound to supplement this invocation written by my grandmother nearly 30 years ago. But, thinking about, when I was a child, I wanted time to speed up, but my grandmother said the older I got, the faster the years will click by.

She was correct.

As a child, the days seemed to drag. Graduating from elementary school seemed like an eternity. Going from junior high to senior was scary, but the three years flew by. And before I knew it, I was walking on stage to accept a college degree.

Time goes quickly, and unless you put on the brake and occasionally do something memorable and enjoyable, you can find yourself decades later only able to remember the work, challenges, and tedium of day-to-day life.

While vitality and faith are essential for a worthwhile life, it’s equally important to have the curiosity and courage to take on new challenges, breaking free from the familiar to explore new opportunities: Even for a day. Hike a forested trail, rent a foreign flick, eat at an ethnic restaurant, read a daring book… shop at a thrift store… doing something, anything that makes the days, the week, or maybe the month memorable.

Invocation #22: Guard our Tongue

13 Saturday Apr 2013

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It is written: “O Lord, guard my tongue from evil and my lips from speaking guile.”

In every way O Lord, we try to take that duty upon ourselves; to guard our tongues and the words they say.

Yet, try as we might , in the heat of anger, or pain, or frustration, even in innocent tactlessness, we get carried away, and our mouths spew out words they would not utter in calmer moments.

And, we must concede, sometimes with the thoughts of protecting the sensitivities of another, we bend the truth or are insincere. We might even manipulate the words to put ourselves in better light.

It is hard, O Lord, to keep such tight control over our tongues that they utter naught, but saintly pronouncements. We are of the earth, and not the heavens.

Please let it be, O Lord, that they whom we have hurt try to understand and forgive our lapses, we will try to understand and forgive theirs.

My grandmother was the oldest of five sisters and four brothers in a family that emigrated from Russia following World War I. One sister, Matilda, was killed by a stray bullets fired by a Russian soldier galloping through their village during a pogrom. A brother got sick while hiding out in a dank basement, mostly likely during another pogrom.

I don’t know the exact details of their voyage to America, but know they went through Ellis Island, and ended up living a few blocks away from Hester Street… in a cold-water flat. Her father, Solomon Powell, tried many trades from laundry service to furrier.

When his first wife died, he married her cousin, Dora, and they had two sons. The youngest, Arthur Powell, was the only one to go to college, and not end up doing blue collar work. Through determination and exceptional business savvy, he founded Kravco Company, once one of the largest private shopping center management companies in the United States.

The rest of the Powell family trudged through, working at shipyards, dry cleaners, printing companies, and other jobs that keep the gears of society running.

My grandmother, Rose “Powell” Ridnor, married, Morris Ridnor, the only son, and youngest of a family of seven daughters. Morris, had flaming red hair, and was usually called by his nickname Red. He had numerous jobs from taxi driver, car salesmen, to chauffer, and finally, an assembly person at Lockheed Martin, in Burbank, California. His small stature made him a valued asset because he could squeeze into tight sections of the planes.

My grandparents never had much: A cute bungalow in Burbank, with a garden in the back (and chickens during World War II), and car in the garage.

In spite of having little, my grandmother was deeply grateful for everything she had, and took extraordinary pleasure in the ordinary. She delighted in the hibiscus bush that crept up the side of their house, chives flowers in salads, a crisp matzos at Passover, hot cup of coffee in the morning, doves cooing in the morning, and reading the paper while standing over the heater vent.

I find it stranger, therefore, that she’d write about guarding one’s tongue when I can’t recall anything foul coming out of her mouth. She’d experienced tragedy as a young girl, seeing her brother and sister die in Russia. The voyage to America may have seemed like an adventure for the few days, but certainly not luxurious in steerage. Living in a crowded tenement in New York, especially with the responsibility of being the oldest child, must have been challenging. And the years prior, during, and directly after World War II were difficult on her with Red serving or a chauffeur driving across country for weeks at a time.

Through all of this hardships, she was gracious, thoughtful, and loving. Whatever she spoke “in the heat of anger, or pain, or frustration and even in innocent tactlessness,” she must have had cause, and this small misstep was quickly forgotten.

Invocation #21: Ledger of Life

12 Tuesday Mar 2013

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It is said that we are — each of us — the sum total of our deeds. That in the Ledger of Life there are two columns: One for good deeds, the pluses; one for bad, the minuses.

Just as we would not want to erase any of our pluses, so cannot erase the minuses. How we live our lives is recorded.

While we strive to do good, endeavoring not to add to the minus column, there they are: The minuses.

All we ask O Lord is when the last entry in our Ledger is recorded, and the columns totaled, that the glow from our good deeds outshine the dark of our minuses. And whoever reads our Ledger, will be inspired to acclaim, “Ah this was a good and giving life.”

This morning, crying inconsolably, I brought Cyrano, our rat terrier, to the vet, knowing within the hour, I would be ending his nearly 16-year old life. While we’d had him barely four month, the prior years of his life, spent with my mother, he’d brought us joy, and added to our lives.

Rich called him “Buddy.” I preferred “Sneezy” or “CyraNose.”

His health had declined rapidly. We’d been carting from place-to-place. Every other weekend, he traveled with us to Sherwood, Oregon, where we’d been fixing up my mother’s house. He’d lived in this house for most of his life and was no doubt confused by it being torn up, and then reconstructed with new paint, flooring, refinished cabinets, and much more. Cyrano Lary at Sherwood house

After a long day at the house, we’d trudge up the stairs to our room at the Tualatin Motel 6, conking out on the bed until we began again the next day.

On alternate weekends, he visited my mother in Mount Vernon, happy to lay on the carpeting or join us in shopping for groceries and other supplies.

And during the week, he lived in Kirkland, hanging out with cats, chasing squirrels in the backyard, and sharing the futon with Lila at night (they got along very well, and even sat on the front seat of the car together).

The first weekend in March, he was very crabby and discontent during our final weekend working on the Sherwood house. He’d landed poorly while jumping out of Rich’s truck. And the next day, he missed a few steps while coming down the stairs in the Sherwood house.

He started limping, and favoring his right foot. By Sunday afternoon, he was very uncomfortable so we placed him in the truck where he could sleep undisturbed, and keep warm with the Oregon sun shining through the windshield.

When we returned to Kirkland, late Sunday night, we had hopes that his leg would improve. It grew progressive worse, as did his energy level. By the time we took him to Mount Vernon, last weekend, Rich was carrying him everywhere.

Not only was Cyrano struggling to breath, but he was distressed, struggling to pee or poop. Monday I made an appointment to bring him to the vet this afternoon. However, when I got home from work on Monday, I knew it would be his last car ride.

I cried and cried Monday night, seeing his discomfort and struggle to walk with his right leg dragging, and the other leg also starting to give out.

This morning Rich had to get up earlier for a final trip to Oregon to oversee the installation of a gas fireplace (we don’t want the renters to use the fireplace for burning wood). I stayed in the bed until 7 o’clock, quickly dressed, woke up Cyrano, and then took him outside for one last walk in the backyard. He could muster only a few feet.

I scooped him up in a towel, placed him in the car, and cried.

The vet was compassionate, saying he had heart failure, his lungs were congested, and most likely a disc slipped in his spine (or was crushed), resulting in the paralysis of his legs.

I called Rich on my cell phone, and held it up to Cyrano’s ear so he could hear Rich’s voice one last time.

I’m sure Cyrano’s ledger is a long list of pluses with few minuses. He loved cats, chasing leaves, running in the waves, long walks, sleeping under the covers, car rides, shredding tissues, nibbling on carrots, Nylabones … and so much more. He is missed. And will always be loved and have a special places in our hearts.

Final Weekend of “Project Lease House”

05 Tuesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Home Improvement

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Last weekend, to put most of the finishing touches on the updating/refreshing of my mother’s house in Sherwood, Oregon, in preparation to start leasing it. The odyssey started on Thanksgiving weekend when Rich and I felt it would be best to move my mother to our Mount Vernon house where we could better monitor her care.

We also thought it would be a good time – dead of winter – to tackle dispensing with her household belongings, and clean up the house. She’d always had lots of animals, mostly cats, which did a splendid job of perfuming the floors, walls and cabinets. Nearly every surface had been damaged. Not good.

Previously, I wrote about the work we did from Thanksgiving through mid-January in the post, “Life Happens.” We continue working on the house, usually every weekend, taking off work, and leaving on a Thursday or Friday morning. In February, Rich was at the house three weekends in a row.

Because I had significantly less vacation than Rich, three times I took Amtrak after work, and joined Rich in Portland to work on the house Saturday through Sunday.

While Rich needs to return on Tuesday, March 12th, to oversee having the wood fireplace converted to gas (to prevent renters from dragging wood into the house, forgetting to open the flue, and other wood-burning mishaps), 95% of everything we needed to get done to start leasing the house is now done!

We have contracted with a leasing company who works with people relocating to Portland for Nike, Tektronix, and other local companies. Chances are a professional couple with perhaps a child or two will lease the house… for at least a year. We were told because the house is in such good condition, we can get top dollars, and the renters will be carefully vetted.

Take a look at the before and after pictures. Here’s what we accomplished in the past few months.

Work Done Rich and Julie

  • Removed flooring downstairs and part of upstairs, pulled out staples and readied for installation of hardwood and carpeting
  • Repaired damaged flooring in two bedrooms
  • Painted two coats of Kilz on walls and floors that were damaged by cats
  • Repaired damaged dry wall and retextured the bottom of several walls, filled holes from pictures and bumps
  • Painted entire inside of house, including several coats on walls that weren’t original white
  • Removed outdoor cat run
  • Patched the exterior and interior walls where there was a kitty door
  • Removed and replaced pocket door
  • Trimmed doors throughout house so they’d fit over carpeting and wooden floors
  • Built new Formica countertops for master and downstairs bathrooms
  • Reset and plumbed bathroom sinks
  • Removed and replaced tile in master bathroom (plus, drywall work to replace where tiles were removed)
  • Replaced mirrors in upstairs bathrooms
  • Painted over-sink medicine chest in downstairs bathroom
  • Replaced toilet seat in one bathroom
  • Replaced facet in one bathroom
  • Cleaned and reinstalled toilet in downstairs bathroom after hardwood floors were installed
  • Remove old caulk from bathrooms and re-caulked
  • Replace thermostat
  • Created tile entryway by front door
  • Painted fireplace mantel another color, removed bad grouting, re-grouted, and sealed grout
  • Purchased new stove/oven, microwave, and dryer from Sears
  • Installed microwave, microwave vent, stove/oven, and refrigerator
  • Replaced kitchen sink faucet, plumbed and re-installed garbage disposal
  • Thoroughly cleaned all drawers, cupboards, closets
  • Cleaned refrigerator and painted rusted areas with appliance paint, and cleaned freezer in garage
  • Remove tile in kitchen, repaired (drywall) and painted walls
  • Tiled kitchen walls
  • Put up cove base molding in kitchen, laundry closet and downstairs bathroom
  • Re-installed washer and dryer
  • Replaced heat registers
  • Added smoke detectors
  • Replaced hinges on several doors
  • Painted and installed baseboards over carpeting
  • Re-keyed all locks (Rich had a short stint as a locksmith decades ago)
  • Replaced front door hardware
  • Replaced molding around front door, and painted both front-and-back
  • Replaced some of the electrical outlets, which were ivory instead of white
  • Washed insides of windows
  • Wiped down blinds
  • Took down and washed light fixtures and fan covers
  • Put contact paper in kitchen drawers, bathroom cupboards, etc.
  • Washed floors and other surfaces
  • Trimmed and tidied yard (very neglected), re-arranged stepping stones and pathways, divided plants, weeded
  • Spread 2.5 yards of bark dust
  • Spread .5 yards of pea gravel for pathways
  • Scrubbed patio and patio cover
  • Ordered dumpster to discard refuse such as cat run, old stove, flooring, etc.
  • Cleaned out garage
  • Made a million trips to Home Depot and Lowes for paint, tile, caulk, tools, dry wall, hardware, etc.
  • Shopped at Sears, tile and flooring stores for supplies

Work Done by Contractors

  • Installed hardwood floors in kitchen, family room, downstairs bathroom
  • Installed carpet in living room, dining from, hallways, and stairs
  • Refinished kitchen and bathroom cabinets, along with doors throughout house (amazing work!)
  • Installed composite counters in kitchen along with stainless steel sink
  • Had roof and driveway pressure washed
  • Converted wood fireplace to gas (March 12th)

Other Work Done by Julie and Rich

  • Purchased new refrigerator for Kirkland house and moved the one from Kirkland to Mount Vernon house (previously had a small bar refrigerator)
  • In early December, rented small moving van, packed furniture, and move my mother to Mount Vernon
  • Unpacked moving van, arranged Mount Vernon house to accommodate my mother’s needs, including raised toilet, supplies, food, walker, wheelchair, etc.
  • Arranged for Visiting Angels to come twice a day, and monitor weekly
  • Purchase groceries and supplies weekly, and monitor usage
  • Set up and brought my mother to doctor several times (Rich since I can get the wheelchair down the stairs in Mount Vernon)
  • Changed my mother’s medical insurance, address, arranged for paper delivery, cable TV, etc.

Invocation #20: Gratitude

27 Wednesday Feb 2013

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Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, O Lord, and we who are gathered here are aware we have much to be thankful for.

Not that we are in the best of health; we are not. Not that we have no anxieties or burdens to carry, we do. Not that all our days are easy and fulfilled, they are not. Nor that we do not feel a longing for days past, we do.

But we are thankful to be able to express these thoughts and understand they are but a part of the cycle of living: That we can feel alive, and look forward to days ahead, can still feel the uplift of spirit when good things come along, and above all, join in the companionship of family and friends.

We are grateful, O Lord, that we can still feel grateful.

As I’ve mentioned before, I randomly post invocations from the series my grandmother wrote for her synagogue’s senior citizens group. Often, I’m driving when it occurs to me that I haven’t published one in the past week or two.

This evening was one such occasion. Driving home, twenty days after writing a blog titled, “Reminded as to Why I Should be More Grateful,” it dawned on me that I should share another of her invocations.

I was amused to learn it dealt with gratitude! What struck me was the final statement, “grateful that we can still feel grateful.”

We experience emotions – whether positive or negative – with scarcely a thought about the miraculous capacity to have feelings. I look at my cats. They have about four emotions: Elation (usually tied to catnip), satisfaction (eating or laying in the sun), needy or grumpy. The latter two tend to dominate.

But as humans, we have a wealth of emotions that shape our lives. We have degrees of happiness and sadness. Jubilation when in love or holding a newborn. Heartbreak over a loss. Contentment after a good meal or spending time with good friends and family. We can be ambiguous or bewildered one moment and enlightened and confident the next.

Indeed, we should be grateful for the ability to feel, express, and experience the cycles of our lives.

Reminded as to Why I Should be More Grateful

07 Thursday Feb 2013

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This morning, like all workdays, our alarm went off at 5:45. Rich rolled over, shutting it off, and dozing back to sleep. I willed myself awake knowing, I needed to go to the gym. I try to work out at least 4 days a week.

Half an hour later, I found myself, doing leg lifts with 90 pounds of weight. Wow! When did I go from lifting 50 to 90 pounds? Didn’t matter. There were other exercise machines to do, followed by planks, sit-ups, abdominal exercises, and finally, the dreaded Stairmaster. The only thing worse than the Stairmaster is running. At least with the latter, I can read while huffing and puffing up flights of stairs.

After the agony ended, it was time to shower, change, and zip to work. While sipping my first cup of coffee, I absentmindedly tore off the next page in my Mary Engelbreit 365-day calendar. It showed a woman opening a wooden box with a red heart inside. The quote was:

The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found in the heart.
Maryanne Williamson

I paid little attention to the saying, returning to the tasks-at-hand. Then a few minutes later, I glanced at the calendar, February 7th.

And then it dawned on me.

Six years ago, while driving to Dell on a rainy Thursday morning, I slammed on the brakes to make way for a car getting on the freeway. I should have downshifted, but was used to driving my automatic Honda and not Rich’s manual Kia. Instead of slowing, the Kia swerved and spun across two lanes of the freeway, coming to a stop when a large box truck slammed into the driver’s side of the car.

It took several minutes until I gain consciousness. By then, the driver of the truck had slipped into the passenger side of the car, and was holding my hand. A nurse who was driving to work stopped to assess my condition… and strangely, a short-time later, an off-duty paramedic showed up, followed by emergency personnel and an ambulance.

Because of two very quirky happenstances, I sustained relatively few injuries. First, the lap belt in the Kia was broken so I was only wearing a shoulder belt, which enabled my entire body, except for my left leg to be thrust into the passenger side of the car when the Kia was struck by the truck. Wrecked Kia driven by Julie Lary

Secondly, a friend at Dell had given me a super heavy black, leather coat, which I was wearing that day. The coat deflected the flying glass from the windshield, and also prevented the shoulder belt from cutting into my body.

In all, I fractured my left pelvis in four places because my left leg got caught under the driver seat while the rest of my body went the other direction. I also cracked two ribs, and had minor abrasions on the top of my head. No doubt, I was outrageously lucky.

I was immediately taken to the Brackenridge Trauma Center in downtown Austin, where my clothing was cut off, needles inserted, and body prodded. After x-rays and a CAT scan were taken, pillows placed under my left leg, and morphine administered, I wondered why they didn’t just slap a cast on my hip, and send me home.

Instead, I was admitted, given little to eat (in case I needed surgery), and told an orthopedic surgeon would see me the following day. The surgeon, Drake S. Borer with Austin Skeletal Trauma Specialists, waltzed into my room late Friday morning. A tall, trim, attractive man, he had an air of confidence and cavalry detachment.

He explained to Rich and me that “we” had two options. He could pin the pelvis, sharing he was pretty good at missing major blood vessels and nerves as he drilled and pushed a pin through my pelvis. Or I could put no weight on my left leg for eight weeks, and allow the bones to knit together. The no-surgery option, however, required that get out of bed by the next morning, balance on my right leg, and use a walker to get around.

Rich chose the latter.

I had my doubts. As the morphine wore off, and I switched to hydrocodone every four to six hours, I realized every aspect of my body was connected to my pelvis, and the slightest movement caused surges of pain. Moving my left leg even a fraction of in inch caused blinding pain, not to mention the agony of sitting up.

Wrecked Kia_2My broken ribs added to the misery, making it painful to lift my arms, let alone pick up anything or use them to move my body. Nevertheless, Saturday morning, I was eased out of bed, my catheter removed, and a belt placed around by waist by two physical therapists, who then proceeded to help me onto my right leg.

I thought I was going to pass out, but managed to grasp a walker, hop on one leg out of the room, into the hallway, and then back to the bed.

Sunday morning, I walked a bit further, and by that evening, I was wheeled over to a rehabilitation center to start a week of intensive physical therapy. By the time I left, I could get in-and-out of the bed by myself and into a wheelchair, race down the hallways in my chair, dress myself, tend to my personal needs, and even use the walker, but for short jaunts. It would take weeks before I could go any distance using a walker, mainly because holding up my left leg, using muscles attached to my fractured pelvis was astonishingly painful.

Eight weeks after my accident, I was cleared to start putting weight on my left leg. I visualized immediately walking.

Even though I’d spent the prior few weeks doing physical therapy in a pool in preparation to walk, my first few steps were horrifically painful, and I immediately plopped down in my wheelchair.

While Dr. Borer had mentioned the first year after my accident would be painful with the pain decreasing every year after; and by the third year, I’d be nearly healed; he neglected to mention two little words, “leg cramps.”

Yes, leg cramps. Like CONSTANT leg cramps. Like horrific leg cramps that wake up from a sound sleep if you happen to flex your foot. And he also didn’t mention it would be at least six months before I could lie on my side for more than 30 seconds. I slept on my back with my hips flat on the mattress for close to a year. Rolling over was painful and not worth the effort. It was even uncomfortable to lie on my right hip because my left hip wasn’t being supporting. Wrecked Kia_3

When I moved to Washington in late June, a few months after the accident, to accept a position with Microsoft, I made a point to walk as much as possible. Until we purchased a house in Kirkland, I lived an apartment, which was a mile from Microsoft so I could easily walk to-and-from work. And on weekends, I took long walks or visited area parks to build up strength and mobility.

Many of my walks ended in tears with my hip hurting, leg cramped, and exhausted from the exertion.

There was no denying the first year was challenging. Year two was much better, and by year three, I nearly forgot about the injury, except for the occasional leg cramp in the middle of the night!

And today, I’m whining about twenty-minutes on a Stairmaster, oblivious to the fact six years earlier I couldn’t wiggle a toe or shift in the bed without wincing in pain, and the only relief was a beautiful, white hydrocodone pill.

I had a remarkable recovery, considering what happened. I need to be more grateful for the opportunity to not only be able to walk, but hike, bike, kayak, gardening, torment Rich, and yes, work up a sweat at the gym.

Invocation #19: Power Outrage

04 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by in Invocations

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It was six o’clock and 104○ of an early September day, and we were settled down watching the TV news. All was comfortable and serene.

Then just like that, without warning, the TV went black; the hum of the air conditioner ceased, clocks stopped, and appliances froze.

We were stunned. A power outage. How terrible. Food in the refrigerator and the freezer. What should we do? Panic started setting in.

Then slowly it occurred to us. Get out the candles, the matches, and the oil lamp. Sit down Don’t waste energy in useless handwringing. There was nothing we could do. It was out of our control. Relax. Wait it out.

We know, O Lord, it is inevitable that at any time we could be faced with upsets, emergencies, tragedies, minor, and heaven forbid, major. And prepared as we could be, we will still be unprepared.

Whenever that happens, O Lord, help us not to panic; to be unafraid. To stay calm and collected so we may do what has to be done. Help us to think positive thoughts, and have faith in our ability to cope.

And let us remember O Lord, that as dark as is the night, the sun will rise tomorrow.

I’m flabbergasted. This evening, I thought to post another of my grandmother’s invocations… a day after the power outage during Super Bowl XLVII between the Baltimore Ravens and San Francisco 49ers. A major glitch was blamed for the electrical belch.

No doubt, an overloaded power grid, during a scorching summer day in Burbank, California, caused the clocks to stop, appliances to freeze, and beloved air conditioner to cease in my grandparent’s house.

While people watching the Super Bowl expressed disappointment, confusion, amusement, and perhaps wonderment as to whether the game would be postponed or rescheduled, several spectators at the New Orleans Superdome, where the game was being played, were initially afraid. They wondered if the lights going out was a precursor to a terrorist attack.

The day after the Super Bowl, 30-minutes of darkness is little more than water cooler chit-chat. We can only hope that if it had been something more ominous, the authorities would have been prepared, and we wouldn’t have experienced the horror, which occurred on an early September morning, eleven years ago.