JUST SOME PICS & SOME CAPTIONS...

Winds? Strings? Percussion?
High five!
And then, to address Descarte's Cogito Ergo Sum matter, I just created a third-person-narrative. hahahahah
That dilemma is so last quarter....
Grandma, there's a bunny on your shoulder. Do you dare me to knock it off? Cuz I will. I'll climb up there and knock it off...but I'll hug you first...

ELIZA, EMALINE, EMMA JANE, EMILY...ON AND ON...

Today, my mother, sister, bro and me went "down home" to Southern Ohio to visit the places where mother grew up. As always, we visited the home and land of my siblings and my (correct grammar?) great great grandmother, Emaline Snyder. She raised 11 children in this same little house. Her husband, John, left her to fight in the Civil War. The house is still in the family. I believe Mom's 2nd or 3rd cousin, Patsy, is the current owner. We go down about once a year to walk around the property and take in the history.

I am particularly taken by the history and "soul" of the area. I think my siblings and I are about 10th or 11th generation Ohioan. That really means something to me. It means I have roots. I belong to the land there. While I might be 2nd generation American on my Dad's side (and I am WAY okay with my lineage there), I love Emaline. I love her story. I love her land and her house.

Today, for the first time, I found her resting place. Actually, my brother found it. We were at Horeb Cemetery, which is the cemetery that holds virtually all of my Snyder progenitors. It's such an old cemetery and I've been blessed to have my mother gift me with two plots there, right next to my grandmother, Emma Jane, the grand daughter of Emaline. In fact, it was Emaline who taught my grandmother how to smoke a pipe. It started as a little stone pipe, but devolved to a corncob pipe. This tickled her grandkids to the day she died, especially when we had to light it for her in her last little time on earth.

Anyway, when I spied the headstone, I felt quite a bit of warmth. I rushed to the site. I know it sounds cheesy, but I wanted my picture taken with it. My brother did also. I think he felt the same thing I did. He remembered being there when we were very young. This is nothing short of miraculous, given his inability to remember things that happen the previous five minutes.

So...here I am with Great Great Grandmother, Emaline. If you know anything about Mormon culture, you will understand when I say that she and I have a special bond. The spirit of Elijah...alive and well....

MOM, WALKER, SPIN, ASS

Yesterday was my 90-yr-old mother's first visit from the occupational therapist. Actually, it was the O.C.'s "boss" who evaluates Mom and then her assistant, who "isn't as nice" as "the boss" will work with mother twice a week. After "the boss" left Mom's home, mother was contemplating the coming sessions. She tried to put a positive spin on it all.

She said,

"This will be great for me"

"I'll build up endurance"

"My muscle strength will improve".

What she didn't realize was that I heard the following, whispered under her breath, as she walked away assisted by her walker....

"She's going to kill my ass"

SPLIT DOWN THE MIDDLE

It's been a long summer. Long. Emotional. And mostly great. And like most of my intense and emotional and meaningful experiences in life, I am split directly down the middle of my soul. The only constant in my life is my spiritual component. To be with one group of people in my life that I adore, I have to leave the other group of people in my life that I adore. And by leave, I mean separated by 3 time zones. It's hell sometimes. Again, the only constant is my faith and my church and the belief that we are connected by a greater, common goal that transcends distances of all kinds... ALL kinds.

So while Mom and I have spent the summer together, 24/7, I have to now begin the process of splitting off. She needs to get back to her social ties and commitments that keep her healthy and happy and connected to her friends. They, in essence, help keep her alive. Research has shown this to be an integral part of longevity-this social interaction. At 90, her social calendar is far more involved than mine. I truly am the cranky loner to my mother's social butterfly. It's always been that way. I have always admired her ability to host dinner parties and card parties-so elegantly dressed. I grew up in the time of the show "Mad Men" so I remember the dresses and the elegance and drinks and the cigarette smoke and the chatter and even the jeweled cigarette holders, the artsy, over-the-top coffee table cigarette lighters and huge ceramic ashtrays that were works of art. I can't believe people actually used them for their intended purpose, but they did. Anyway, I'm veering off....

We've gotten so comfy in each other's company here. We eat breakfast, lunch, dinner together. We have a soap opera that we watch, then Ellen, then "The Doctors", which we love. Actually, she naps during this show, but she does enjoy when she wakes up here and there. We pick out our shows for the evening. We're totally involved with "The Bachelorette" and we love "WipeOut". In short, we have a nice life here. It's predictable, quiet, and retiring. This is something that's okay, but probably not in our best interest-for either of us. We HAVE to get out, we HAVE to mingle, we HAVE to maintain social contacts, we HAVE to continue to hone our ability to interact with others-preferable "real" others, not fictional television characters.

Whatever...arrgghhhh....and then the twins. The babies. I have video of them that I KNOW I will have memorized until the NEXT time I come into town and get MORE video. Their faces, their voices, the way they move, their dancing, their fragrances, their piggies, the way their parents sing them to sleep, the way they say "amen" and kinda sorta fold their arms for prayer. Their parents...

Alex and Emma, and the way THEIR faces are so much closer to mine now. Their voices, their laughter, their opinions...they HAVE OPINIONS! Their clothes, their long, lean, strong bodies. Their affection for each other. Their affection for their mother. Their affection for ME! I just never figured for that.

And I think about my husband. How how he works, how patient he is, how supportive. I think of my puppies, of my step-son moving up in the Church and readying himself for his mission. I think of my daughter back home who is ready to give birth at virtually any time...ANY TIME! Someone else to love. And there's the rub. Some one else on the other coast. In this tug of heart war. The West coast is adding another player...

Split right down the middle...