High and Mighty Hair

Good day all ye seekers of Creative Truth and Joy.

I came across this picture the other day in my mother's family photo album, and oh the memories it sparked.



Mrs. High and Mighty Hair



I look at this picture and ask myself, "How did she get that much hair that high?!!"  I think this hair style may very well be illegal in some states.  Another thing that comes to mind is, "Isn't Aqua Net flammable?"  I know for a fact that she was a chain smoker. Now that's walkin' on the wild side. 

Just imagine as a small child of seven, how big,  tall, and impressive that hair was to me.  I would sit and watch my mother and her friend, we'll call her, "Mrs. High and Mighty Hair," (I have to change the name to protect the foolish and possibly the criminally insane) rat and tease every last strand of hair.  The room was filled with a cloud of Aqua Net hairspray that would get in your mouth, and the taste would stay there for at least three days minimum.  They would gossip, drink coke and rum, and play cards. All the while enjoying one cigarette after another, oh the good old days(1970). 



my mom



The one event I recall the most was the time our family, my aunts family, and Mrs. High and Mighty Hair all went camping at the "Lake".  The Lake was a small reservoir located in Bridgeland, Utah.  It was small enough to always be warm, and isolated enough to be private and clean with a nice sandy beach.  It was a perfect summer paradise. 

That summer all three families headed for our little hide away in the country with great anticipation of swimming, campfires, and  roasted marshmallows. 
Upon arriving the children immediately went swimming and the adults, or should I say, "the so called adults" went about setting up camp.  As that summer day wore on we children played, as well did the parents.  For us kids out came the Kool-Aid, PB&J sandwiches and grapes. And for the adults, ham sandwiches, ice cold coke's and of course a little rum. 

me and my big sis

Upon the sun setting a campfire was built, hot dog sticks were selected from the near by willows, and the roasting began.

The children circled the fire. We cooked our dinner and dessert while our parents played poker and acted silly. As the night went on the children got quieter and the parents got louder.  The littlest ones wandered off to bed leaving only us big kids of seven, me and my cousin Lee, and my sister and her friend, both nine, to tend to the important stuff, what ever that may be.



my sister roasting dinner



Well, that night we became spectators to the now infamous "Lake Brawl of 1970."  That's right, apparently my aunt felt that my uncle was a little too interested in the makings of Mrs. High and Mighty's Hair, and how she did those things she did to that hair.  So to make a long story short, the table went flying, chips and cups included, and the cat fight was on.  My parent's and uncle tried their best to break up the scratching and  screeching balls of hair going at each other on the damp sand, but it was to no avail.  And that's when it happened, the hair, the most amazing hair of all time, the gravity defying hair of Mrs. High and Mighty Hair, came off in one large chunk.  Everything went silent, you could hear nothing but heavy breathing, panting, and then an earth altering scream, that is to this day I'm sure still floating in space.  IT WAS A HAIR PIECE, and my aunt held it and all its glory in her balled up fist, but for only a moment before she sent it sailing into the camp fire. Needless to say the party was over and my aunt and her family headed out in the middle of the night, as well did the now Not so High and Mighty Hair lady.  Our family finished up a quiet weekend at the lake, with our parents acting their age and us kids swimming and roasting.



me and my baby bro

 

We traveled to the "Lake" many times after that year, never again with my aunt and her family, and although it was always fun I don't think any trip was as memorable as the "Lake Brawl of 1970." 

Oh good times...

Thanks for sharing this walk down memory lane with me.  I hope it made you laugh and want to go out and make great memories with your friends and families, no matter how Hairy.

Much love x0x0

tootsie

A few things to be greatful for...

A few things to be grateful for....

a charming bridge to cross, once I get there...

a welcoming heart in the cold..

a window to dream out of on a sunny day...

a green field to lay down in....

a warm little hand to hold in mine....

a sister to share with....

a blue sky and a cool breeze...

a farm to dream of....

a best friend to share your dreams with ...


May you know all that you are grateful for and my it be grateful right back.

x0x0




Some of you may remember this post from awhile back, but I just felt like it needed saying once more!!
x0x0

A little truth about me!!

This is a one of the first pictures I painted, I call her "My truth."  I have this picture hanging by the side of my bed so that every morning when I wake it is the first thing I see, and every night it's message helps comforts me.
I didn't realize how much the messages in this painting were going to come to mean to me while I was painting it.  It wasn't until recently that I realized just how close to home these messages hit and how much I needed to hear them.   I would love to share my thoughts on this little painting with you and hope you can take away a few of your own.  


I have always like the saying "a little birdie told me" so what better way to hear your dreams.  This is one of my favorite quotes by Eleanor Roosevelt.  She was one amazing lady, very inspiring and funny.  Once I came across a quote about a rose that she had named after her, it cracked me up:

"I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed, but fine up against a wall." - Eleanor Roosevelt 

Behind my little beauty holding the bird I used  sheet music for a back ground and magazine cut outs about "breaking away" and "dream the good life".  I think that's something we can all relate to, music and inspiration.  I enjoy the word "collecting", because it applys to so many things.  I enjoy being a collector of friends, stories, memories, laughter, good times, love, seasons, rainy days, sunset, talents and the joys of life.  I am what one might call an emotional pack rat, holding onto all the warm fuzzies I can wrap my mind around. 
If you look closely you will see that the branches in my tree of life are full of fortune.  That's right for as long as I can remember I have been collecting (there's that word again) fortune's from fortune cookies.  I slip them in my wallet, night stand, car ashtray since I don't smoke, coat pockets, work desk and  fortune jar in my studio.  I keep them as a reminder that there is always good fortune out there just waiting for me to live it.  Just some of the fortunes that are part of my tree of life are:
"We must always have old memories, and young hopes."
"A women's dreams is an index to her greatness."
"If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain."
"The more joy we have the more nearly perfect we are." (all great words to live by)
Last but not least are the three colorful butterflies with clock faces for bodies.  They symbolize how quickly time flies, like soft whispers on a butterflies wings.
Thanks you for letting me share my emotional ramblings with you.  I hope you enjoy my little painting and my truths.  My wish for you is that you go out there and find your truths, find what makes you happy, what makes you strong and begin to live your truths one day at a time. x0x0
                                          
                                                 (enjoy the sunrise of Utah's west desert)

Airstream Dreams

I've been back to work now for five days.  And I must admit they have been the five longest days of my life.  But keep in mind I'm one of the lucky ones, my desk has a great view of the mountains and I can watch the freeway from where I sit.  I often find myself wandering off in thought as I watch those cars rush by, coming and going.

When I was a small girl, I use to go into those mountains, to the Provo Canyon to be exact.  The canyon road side was lined with fresh fruit stands back then, some 30 years ago.  It was one orchard after another as well as corn field, tomato, melon's, strawberry and raspberry patches.  Often times I was with my aunt and cousins heading up to visit their in-laws/grandparents.  The Canyon Family we shall call them.  They were a fun loving family with if I can remember correctly four sons and one daughter, a quite father and one very bossy mother.  They camped along the canyon where the Provo River rushed wildly by the shaded camp grounds.  Papa Canyon had the most amazing singing voice and at night he would sit by the camp fire and sing.  He sounded like a mixture of Ernest Tubbs and Hank Williams.  People from all over the camp ground would come and gather round just to hear Papa Canyon strum his guitar and sing.  Some would toss money in his overturned cowboy hat before they returned to their own camp.  Grandma Canyon was always sewing or knitting something.  She was of Native American descent and wore turquoise bracelets up and down bother her arms.  Rings covered each finger and ear, not to mention her beautiful necklaces.  Grandma Canyon often made jewelry as well and sold it from the roadside by her silver airstream trailer.  It wasn't the largest airstream I had seen but it wasn't tiny.  My parents had a Prowler Trailer and it was great for camping, and about the same size, three beds (one being the kitchen table, one the couch and one a above pull out bunk) a small bathroom and of course the stove, frig and sink.  It was our home away from home when camping, it sure beat sleeping in a tent on the hard ground and using an out house.

The Canyon Family was like I said happy and behaved like any other family.  The boys were in their teens and they left with PaPa early in the morning and were gone all day until around six or seven in the evening.  Grandma and their youngest daughter stayed close to the camp and sold the sewing's, knitting's and jewelry.  There was always something for us kids to do, somewhere for us to explore, some new game to make up.  It was a wonderland for us, we didn't have a care in the world, life was good.
It's funny though as I got older and my trips to the canyon became fewer and fewer and the orchards became subdivisions and well as the corn fields and berry patches, I came to miss The Canyon Family and the airstream days.  I've thought of them often with a fondness in my heart and also with a new realization.  My camping Canyon Family weren't camping, they were making a living, that's right they were gypsies.  When I look back on it now I realize that, PaPa and the boys were gone all day finding odd jobs and doing asphalt or cement work.  Grandma sold her jewelry and other crafts to many a grateful passerby.  And when PaPa Canyon sang at night with his turned over hat, that was just his way of unwinding and checking out if just for a little while.  Oh yea, and that not to large airstream, the one I thought better than a tent was in fact their humble home. 

Life sure seems a lot different when viewed through the eyes of an adult and a work cubical, not so rosie.  So as I watch those cars rush by going who knows where I begin to feel the yearning of the little girl gypsy in me, calling to me, pulling at me.  

And that's when I  came across Magnoliapearl and her amazing airstream and she got me to dreaming all over again.

Now I don't think I'm going to run out and paint me up an airstream, but I'm sure going to go searching for that little gypsy and see where she leads me.  I wish you all many airstream dreams. x0x0

 http://www.magnoliapearl.com/Romantic%20Homes/romantichomes.html 

Remember to eat your greens!!

Well, I finally did it, I had a salad!! Now to some this may seem like a silly goal or statement, but to me it was momentous, allow me to explain. 

I have not had a green salad or fresh fruits or vegetables since the winter of 2007, why you may ask?  Well, in 2004 I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and given many different drugs to keep the illness at bay.  They seemed to  work some what, although I had a very low immune system and was often sick with a cold of flu like symptoms all the time, but I carried on with life.  That was until October of 2007, I got a stomach bug and ended up in the emergency room at 2:00 in the morning.  I had a fever of a 103 and was severely dehydrated.  I explained my medical history to the ER docs, they proceeded to hook me up to IVs and pain meds and sent me home with a prescription for what they called a Z-pack of antibiotics.  The Z-pack from what I could gather was a very concentrated form of antibiotics that took only a matter of days to get into your system and work its magic.  So I went home got my Z-pack and did as I was told.  And the ER docs were right within days I was feeling much better, no fever, up and about getting back to my regular routine.  That was until the 10th day, I jumped into my car to go to the post office with my daughter and it suddenly felt like someone just stabbed me in the stomach with a hot poker.  I doubled over the steering wheel, the pain was so intense, unlike anything I had every experienced before.  My daughter helped me back into the house and into bed.  That evening the fever came back and so did the nausea and the stomach pain was even worse, we made another trip to the ER.  Well, to make a long story short the magic Z-Pack had destroyed all the good bacteria in my large intestine and due to the history of ulcerative colitis the ER docs should have never given me a Z-pack, but the damage was already done.  My large intestine was now inflamed and swollen and on the verge of perferation.  I was admitted to the hospital and put on steroids to reduces the swelling.  I was on a steroid drip and no food for 28 days and still the intestine did not shrink, it only got worse.  So on December 8, 2007 I had my whole large intestine removed, and was fitted with an iliostomy bag on the right side of my body. 

 On that day everything about my diet, and how and what I was able to eat changed.  No fresh fruits or veggies, no grains or nuts, no seeds or peelings of any kind.  Beware of citrus drinks and vinegar, carbonation, hot sauce any type of chili, and no eating after 7 P.M. And now I also had to take medication every four hours for the rest of my life.  I had three more surgeries to look forward to, that was if I was lucky and the small intestine was healthy enough.  Also we needed to give the colon area time to heal so that a possible Pull Through procedure could be done and the iliostomy bag could be removed.  There were a lot of "ifs" and it would take months, four to be exact before we would know if the operations would be successful.  During those four months I spent two of then in the hospital full time with complications.  In February of 2008 everything physically seemed to be settling down and I was preparing for a final surgery in April to remove the bag, I was so looking forward to that operation.  I had been helping my daughter plan her wedding during all of this and was glad to be able to stand in her line in June without any complications.  In March of 2008 on the 28th just two weeks short of getting my final operation my father passed away from a massive stroke.  The pain and loss I felt that day I can not yet put into words.  My tough, but sweet dad had called me every other day while I was in the hospital to check on me and had come to my home and checked on me to see how I was doing.  All the while he had been having small seizures and had told my stepmother not to tell me because he didn't want to worry me.  Of all the crazy things, he didn't want to worry me, boy how I love that man.  We layed my dad to rest on a cold March morning and carried on with life.  I had my operation, it was a success, no more bag.  My Doctor was amazing.  My beautiful daughter had a lovely wedding and promised herself to the love of her life.  They have since then given us the most amazing grandchild. 

So yes, after four surgeries, a funeral, and a wedding, if I eat a salad it is a call for celebration.  Remember to eat your greens, hug your parents and tell your children you love then, and kiss that grand baby every chance you get.

Back to the grind

Well I have been recovering nicely and time has flown by.  It is now time for me to head back to work.  Yes time to wake up with the working class at 5:00 A.M. and start back at the eight hour grind.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have my health back, and in today's economy glad to have a job to go back to. 

But I worry about this wonderful creative spirit I have nurtured while I've been out on medical disability.  During this time, my art has saved me.  It has given me the rehabilitation that no doctor or pill could give me.  I have been able to open up my mind and let it soar higher than I ever thought possible.  I'm am so grateful to have found my joy and passion in creating art.  I know that this desire to create is too great to just fade away, it may need to be scaled back a bit, but not forgotten.

But to be honest what's really got me tossing and turning at night is the idea of parting with the little love of my life " Baby Jacks".  That's right, I have grown so used to caring for him daily, that I am going to miss him.  I know he will still be cared for by his wonderful mommy or daddy his big pa pa, auntie ally or uncle tony, but I'll still miss him.
Today while I was putting Jacks down for a nap, I just sat there and held him after he fell a sleep.  Looking down at that perfect little face, with his dark lashes resting on his chubby little cheeks, I made time stand still, for just that moment.  I remembered having those same moments with my own children when they were little, making time stand still just long enough for me to store it away in my heart.  Although I know Jacks will be waiting more me when I get home and he will probably sleep right through the whole idea of me being at work, I will still miss him something terrible.  Now who sounds like the real baby?

"Listen to your hear it's not all in your head."

Well one minute I'm sitting in the doctor's office the next I'm making an appointment for heart surgery the next day, wow talk about fast. How did it all come to this and why, well let's talk.
 It all started in my head. Since I was a small child as young as maybe four years old I can remember having migraine headaches. I would get so ill from them I would have to go in a dark room with no noise and lay down, sometimes it would get so bad that I would vomit. As I got older the headaches seemed to get more severe. I learned to manage the migraines with early detection, my eyes would start to see flashing lights and I would run for the aspirin and a quiet place. I also found that after a hard workout or long hard hike, anything really that got my blood pumping, I ran the chance of getting a migraine, not every time maybe three out of five times.
 So for the last 41 years it has been something that I have learned to live with, learned to accept. I wasn't until this last year that something new started. In January of 2010, I started having small bits of memory loss. Maybe it was even before then, I don't remember.(ha ha) But on top of the noticeable memory loss I was having headaches everyday, and migraines about three times a week. I examined my life, trying to figure out what had changed and came up with nothing major at the time. Things had seemed to have calmed down compared to the previous two years, so what was it?



In April I couldn't take it anymore. I left work one day and could not go back. In addition to the headaches and memory loss I couldn't stay on task, I was having bouts of confusion, not even able to remember the simplest of things like my birth date or phone number. I was a mess at work. I couldn't do my job without worrying and that only made the headaches and migraines worse. I had to go on short-term disability, fortunately for me I have a great employer and wonderful benefits.
 So started the trip after trip to the family doctor in order to get a handle on the problem. It seemed like all the doctors wanted to do was throw one drug after another at me for migraines. None of them worked, and they all had terrible side effects. So if the migraines didn't get me the medication side effects would. After three months of medications I noticed that my right arm was starting to go numb. I was dropping things and every time I had a migraine it felt like the right side of my face was having paralysis; I couldn't move it very well and the right side of my body also felt weak. Again, more pills and now a sleep test to see if I had a sleep disorder. Well again the pills did not work and the sleep test came back normal.


 At this point the doctor is scratching his head. He will not and can not release me for work. But now disability is no longer willing to pay because people live with migraines everyday and that is not a disability. I'm stuck is what I am. So I ask to see a neurologist, something is wrong with me this is not all in my head, I am not making this up. I do not want to live this way. If I had my choice I would much rather not have headaches five days a week and two or three migraines a week as well as the confusion and memory loss. I would much rather enjoy my grandchild and my life, be healthy and happy and not a burden. So on to the neurologist I went. The first one was a ding-bat, she didn't even look at my medical history. She gave me a balance test, pushed sleeping pills at me and told me to come back in three months. Next!! Don't give up this is your body your health. The next neurologist ordered another sleep test because she looked at my medical history and found problems with my first sleep test. She found that the prior tech hand read the test wrong and it needed to be redone. She also asked me if I had ever been tested for a PFO (patent foramen ovale). What is this disorder you may ask yourself? Well here it is, straight from the medical flyer provided to me from Intermountain Healthcare.


PFO: Fetuses in the womb have a normal opening between the heart's upper chambers. This opening usually closes soon after birth. But for about 1 in 5 people, it doesn't close completely. A PFO allows tiny amounts of oxygen-rich blood and oxygen-poor blood to mix, almost like a "leaky tunnel" between the two heart chambers. For many patients, a PFO does not cause significant health problems, but in some patients a PFO can increase the risk of stroke.



So, on Thursday I went to the medical center for my bubble test, it is to see if there is air leaking from one side of my heart to the other, if there is then I have a PFO. They put some dye and bubbles in my veins and watch them move around on ultrasound imaging. The severity of the PFO, if you have one is based on a scale from 1 to 5 resting(5 being the worse)and 1 to 5 active. Well after a battery of test it came back that I have a 5+ resting and I was off the charts active. It was a big hole, about the the size of a quarter. Wow, I knew I was not crazy, I knew there was something wrong, I was not faking it or making it up. In laymen terms my good blood was getting mixed with my bad blood and little clots were getting through without being filtered out though my lungs first. These small clots were giving me migraines and causing mini-strokes in my brain. That explains the memory loss and confusion, as well as the loss of feeling in my right side.  I was a ticking time bomb, just waiting for a stroke to go off. I was in the doc's office on Thursday, in the hospital for surgery on Friday, spent one night, and home on Saturday. That's right Heart surgery in a day, you got to love modern medicine.

So listen to your heart, it's not all in your head, and don't give up, your not crazy!!!