So it happened for the second time this spring. A hummingbird flew into our garage and couldn't find its way out. Bless its tiny heart. I watched in dismay as it frantically flew in circles, unable to solve the predicament. Both doors were open, along with one leading out to the patio: the escape route was clear, but it eluded the little fella with each frenzied pass. I helplessly watched as it landed on random objects, obviously exhausted, turning its head from side to side, surveying the scene. And then, it took off again, repeating the same flight pattern, unable to set itself free. I started to think that perhaps I had witnessed some grand metaphor for life's problems. We are human being
I am blessed to have an amazing medical team. When you are battling a life-threatening illness, you want them to be empathetic and kind, but you also want competence, tenacity, and, of course, brainpower. My “people” demonstrate all of this and more. They saved my life once. I am counting on them to do it again. I’ve waited weeks for the latest treatment plan. I readily admit to my impatience. Knowing that I have active cancer growing inside me keeps me awake at night, as I sometimes envision this newest alien sending signals in code, messages that strike fear in my heart. What can I say? I have a very vivid imagination. And so, I am anxious to launch the first grenade, start the war. It’s
Living out in the middle of nowhere can be lovely. There is the peaceful tranquility of being surrounded by nature. And a quiet morning spent sipping coffee on the front porch is pretty darned special. Even when the rest of the world is busy, that silence is only interrupted by the chirping birds or crickets. But there are drawbacks. The wild critters like to eat my prized hostas and begonias. The weeds grow into stealth specimens that are virtually impossible to eradicate. Pollen season is particularly brutal. (Imagine yellow and green snow.) Running out of milk or bread means a thirty-minute trip to the grocery store. And our internet service sucks: think dial-up-from-the-90’s bad. On an
