A Czech proverb states, "Repetition is the mother of wisdom." You would think after 57 straight weeks of writing a column, I would be finding some of that wisdom. An Arab proverb states, "In repetition there is learning." After over a year of writing columns, I should have learned by now how to quickly write a column with total efficiency and little effort. Nope, I’m as slow now as I was on my first one. There’s another proverb that says, "Repetition teaches the donkey", but we won’t go there.

The last 57 weeks have passed quickly as time seems to do. Our family, as with all families, is constantly changing. Since I started writing my column, all four of my children have moved. Three have become the owners of their own homes. Mandy and Joey lost their home and most of their belongings to the Greensburg tornado. To add extra love and laughter to our life, two grandbabies have been welcomed into our chaos. Michael Ray has been diagnosed with Perthes Disease. I have quit drinking Dr. Pepper after a 20 year addiction to that legal poison, a staggering life-style change for me. I have had to constantly practice self-discipline as I’ve wrestled with procrastination and deadlines.

I’ve had the opportunity to ramble, rant, rave, rationalize and reflect on all sorts of subjects. I’ve had fun writing the columns, but the best part has been the conversations and comments with people on the streets of Medicine Lodge.

People have told me sad stories, funny stories, kid stories and parent stories. Congratulations were offered on the birth of Marie and Evan and encouragement given on Michael Ray’s prognosis. Through the devastating time after the Greensburg tornado, people generously gave me cash, checks and gift cards to financially help Mandy and her family as they tried to get their equilibrium back. I’ve been stopped on the street and had people share the history of their addictions and hints of ways to make it through cravings without giving in.

All of these short exchanges of words have been fantastic and I want to thank you for them. They have helped me realize how similar we all are in feelings and experiences.

Take for example, put a bunch of people, both men and women, in a room and have one person begin talking about the difficulties of raising teenagers. Although each narrator’s rendition may be a little different, every story will fit into the category of, "raising a teenager is like walking down a dark, crooked trail knowing the rocky path is congested with hidden land mines."

Another group that has an abundance of verbal interaction is an assembly of middle-age women. Oh yeah, we can quickly go through the subjects. One of our favorites is the subject of hot flashes and other hated hormonal handicaps. We talk of the ups and downs of motherhood and why being a grandma is a much better way to go. This is the time that women’s minds begin to really open up and they realize that if dreams and goals are ever going to be achieved, it’s time to make the move. Women at middle-age have moved out of the nesting stage where they want to make everything okay with everybody in the whole wide world. We begin expressing our opinions a little more aggressively which may cause this age of woman to encounter surprised reactions from familiar people. We also decide during this stage in our lives that trying to live a healthier life-style is of the utmost importance, not just a vain pursuit with selfish intentions.

I recently had one of those swift exchanges with substitute mail carrier, Norma Ricke. It is visibly evident that she has made some changes in her life. When asked how she did it, her words of wisdom were simple. She explained the changes and choices she made were for her health and to feel better, not for looks. Walking all over town packing a large bag of mail is just a special bonus to keep her focused.

I’m pretty sure men also have specific topics that regularly pop up in their conversations. I would guess sports, electronics and other toys, fast running machines and how to deal with psycho crazy hormonal women are probably a few points of discussion in an all male atmosphere. I just bet most all participants enjoy contributing to those running dialogues.

I wonder how different our conversations are than those of our ancestors. Life goes on, babies are born; their grandparents die. Good things happen and bad things happen. One guarantee is that life will be unfair. We are faced with the political corruptness that erodes our faith in our government. There are numerous instances where harmful medicines, food and drinks are touted by manufacturers as being not only safe but also healthy. The media is packed with stories of money mismanagement, murder and mayhem. Most everyone is faced with economic difficulties as the price of gas, food and other necessities climb at an alarming rate.

Although we may live in a small community, we are as affected by the unstable times as those living in a large city. Employees of National Gypsum are fully aware of the fact as their hours are being drastically cut resulting in a paycheck that doesn’t begin to cover expenses.

Although many of these things are out of our control, we can make the daily choice on whether to make our world a happier place to live. We can begin a positive chain reaction by flashing a smile, giving an encouraging word or performing a random act of kindness. What goes around comes around; what you sow, you will reap.

Also, I want to thank Julia, Seth, Mandy, Joey, Andrea, Ryan, Michael and Jami for their patience and understanding. I know they have experienced a little nervous trepidation over the content of each weekly column. I could write a million columns and never be able to adequately describe the love I have for my children and grandchildren. I’m a lucky woman to have them in my life and I want the time to enjoy each one of them.

Also, I want to thank God for his protecting hand over me and mine. There have been umpteen times in just the past year that His grace has been overwhelmingly evident in our lives.

Also, have an excellent life!

The study of the history of women was rarely a serious pursuit by scholars before 1970. There was no doctoral training available in the country relating to the many women who had an important part in forming the history of our nation.

Now nearly every college offers women’s history courses and most major graduate programs have doctorate degrees available in that field of study.

The major factor that contributed to these changes was the women’s movement in the sixties. Women began to question why those women who had gone before them and had achieved many important accomplishments were left out of the traditional American History writings.

The public celebration of women’s history in America began in this country in 1978 as Women’s History Week in Sonoma County in California . In 1987, Congress expanded the celebration to a month and named March National Women’s History Month.

One day last week was the third anniversary of my mother’s death. I have discovered more things about my mother in the last three years than my first 47.

My mom was 43 when I was born and she died at the age of 90. I never knew until after her death how much experience and information she had stored within her head. Maybe if I had asked the right questions in the right way, we would have had a closer relationship and better communication. The older I get, the regrets seem to grow stronger for the many things I never and will never know about my mother. Hindsight now tells me that many of the things I perceived as weaknesses in that hard to understand woman were really strengths. I was too young to realize the truth and by the time I had matured enough to begin questioning my preconceived thoughts, Mom had lost her hearing and had regressed further into a world unreachable by others.

I had wondered if all women from that generation were similar in their methods of dealing with life. I met Mrs. Cline and she wiped away all thoughts of mom’s personality traits being generational.

When we moved to Medicine Lodge, I wanted to find a job that would allow me to not only be home in the mornings to see the kids off to school but also in the afternoons when they returned home.

I found the perfect job. Beulah Cline had just moved into town from the family ranch located west of Medicine Lodge at Deerhead. Her son, Wes, also moved into town, but went out to work on the ranch most days. I stayed with her from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. five days a week.

I cleaned her house, fixed her lunch, took care of her yard and spent hours talking with her. Those conversations were much too concentrated and detailed to write down; but I wish I would have taped them. That petite woman was unbelievable. She had raised 3 boys and one girl. At the time, I was in the process of raising 3 girls and one boy.

The differences were incredible. I listened in attentive silence as she talked about her life. She described the duties and responsibilities of a ranch wife and mother in the ‘20’s, ‘30’s and 40’s. Mrs. Cline was a wonderful storyteller. She intertwined her sharp wit and personal opinions with the bare facts which kept every conversation interesting, humorous and informative. She talked about the Depression years and the struggle to keep her kids in clean clothes through the "dirty thirties". She gave details concerning what it took to feed a family of six plus the hired men. The picture she painted was vivid in my mind as my imagination tried to comprehend baking several loaves of bread every other day along with all of the other time-consuming chores. She never failed to make me thankful for being born in the ’50’s instead of earlier in the century. I admired her for her attitude, her mental and physical strength that were ingrained components of her personality and her love for her family.

It would be difficult to be the recipient of a pen and paper with the instructions to write down the 10 most remarkable women you have come in contact with in your lifetime. I know Mom and Mrs. Cline would both be on my list, but I don’t think I could limit the number to 10.

Have you looked around Medicine Lodge? We have a town full of amazing women. You want examples? Ummmkay, how about the women in the American Legion Ladies Auxiliary? These women not only hit the streets every November and hang ribbons downtown to remind all of us of the many veterans and their sacrifices to keep our Country free, but they also sell Buddy Poppies. The proceeds from these flowers go to disabled and needy veterans or the widows and children of veterans.

Have you read in the paper of how many volunteer hours the Women’s Hospital Auxiliary rack up every month?

We would all be gratefully amazed if we were presented with a list of the many ways the Pilots Club has contributed to this community.

Sororities and other clubs invest time and money into providing scholarships and activities for our youth.

If you need to meet some exceptional women, visit The Leisure Center. How about those who deliver Meals on Wheels?

Blood drives do not just happen. Volunteers give hours and hours of their time; donors give their lifesaving blood.

Visit the churches. You will find women involved in activities and like the other clubs and organizations, they work year round to make Medicine Lodge a better place to live.

Okay guys, I am very well aware of the story of Adam and Eve and how Eve’s curiosity, uuhhhh….. disobedience caused trouble for all of us. I am very conscious of the tendency for women to be a bit hormonal and emotional at times. I’m sure some men would even go so far as to call women unreasonable (I hope, for safety’s sake, this is not said to their face). Women are human so each has their own set of weaknesses as well as strengths.

March is the month that the nation celebrates the strengths of women. Whether groaning in agony while in the clutches of a contraction, struggling to balance a career and family or volunteering hours out of their busy day to help others, women are amazing.

Also, take some time to learn about some of the women who have made their marks in history. Read about their courage and strength as they took a stand in their desire to make a difference.

Also, celebrate National Women’s History Month by telling all of the extraordinary women in your life just how awesome you think they are while they are still characters in your present instead of your past.

Also, have you read some of the recent books and information on how poorly women in many other countries are treated? We are blessed to live in the United States of America.

Also, have an excellent week!

A few days later I was shocked at the size of the floater drifting through my field of vision. I was used to having an occasional speck bouncing back and forth like a professionally played ping pong ball, but this one was much larger. After watching this new invader for a while, I realized I was wasting my time staring cross eyed at a gnat. Once more I felt that flow of relief rush through me on having once more side stepped another potential problem.

I’m not delusional. I struggle with opening the lid of the picante sauce; extra exertion leaves me achy; my ears lie to me concerning the exact location of a noise; my eyes project things into my brain that would astound an abstract painter and there are times that my memory can’t remember anything. This isn’t including the wrinkles, lines, bags, sags and other wonderful characteristics of growing older. I’m very aware that I have hit middle-age and it seems to be time to pay the piper for a bunch of the stupid things I’ve done in life.

Recently my grandson, Michael Ray, presented a hard to ignore trait of the aging process. Michael Ray has Perthes Disease. This malady occurs when the blood supply is cut off to the femoral heads which causes the cartilage and bone to disintegrate. After several weeks of physical therapy showing no signs of helping his condition, it was decided that a more intense treatment would be necessary.

Michael Ray was taken into surgery and both of his legs were put in casts held in a V position with one bar built into his cast above his knees and one below his knees. The wheelchair is now his mode of transportation.

I went to Haviland to stay with Michael Ray and his sister Marie the Monday following his trip into surgery. I went early in the morning so Mandy could get to work on time. I was armed with all sorts of "grandmotherly" things. I was looking forward to having Michael Ray and Marie all to myself for a whole day. I did have fun, I laughed a lot, but I had a rude awakening.

The time came for me to move Michael Ray into a room where the door wouldn’t accommodate the wide spread of his legs. Oh my goodness, it took everything I had to move my grandson. I got him to where he needed to be, but it was in a different way than what he was use to being carried. I felt like Superman…..after being exposed to kryptonite.

I have made a lot of changes in my life recently. I have been completely without a Dr. Pepper for seven weeks. I drink at least eight glasses of water a day. I have worked really hard to remember my vitamins every day. I usually manage to eat at least nine fruits and vegetables each day. I walk three to five miles nearly every day thanks to my dog requiring exercise to keep her personality pleasant. I usually sleep at least seven or eight hours a night unless I get involved in a late night telephone conversation, I’m extremely hormonal or my stress level is off the chart. I have been feeling good about these changes and then I find that it is just not enough. Not one of these things I mentioned helps build upper body strength. Now I have started a weight-lifting program. I definitely do not need a spotter yet, but it’s a beginning.

This has made me think about strength as I’ve searched my fitness magazines to find the easiest most effective exercises that work the fastest. I have found that easy and effective goes together like oil and water. As with most anything that is important, strength just doesn’t come easy.

Whether physical, emotional, mental or spiritual strength, my children have motivated and inspired me for the past 28 years. Now I find my grandchildren having an even more intense effect on my life. I want to feel good. I want to be able to keep up with them, well, at least on their slow days. I want to be physically capable of taking care of them.

I have agonized over Michael Ray’s medical condition. I’ve been angry that he has had to go through so many rough things in his short seven years. A tornado and a disease all in one year would be overwhelming for an adult, but even more devastating to a child.

I was watching television and saw a commercial for St. Judes Hospital. It slapped me pretty hard. Michael Ray was not in a hospital fighting for his life. I should be grateful instead of whining.

Julia has had several middle-age patients that had Perthes Disease as a child and it went undiagnosed and untreated. The results are excruciating and debilitating pain from femoral heads being shaped like footballs or even worse. Michael Ray is receiving treatment now while he is young. Although it doesn’t guarantee a problem free middle-age, it will push related problems further down the road. This is yet another reason to be positive concerning the situation instead of concentrating on the negative.

Michael Ray was popping wheelies in his first 24 hours in his wheelchair. He has quickly adjusted. There is pain and times of frustration, but he’s dealing with it.

So when I’m lifting my not very big weights and I’m not really into it, I think of Michael Ray, turn up the music and concentrate on my breathing techniques.

I know that good nutrition, good sleep and good exercise is well...........good, but my real strength comes from God and my family.

Also, Amber Keller, a family friend, put donation jars at several stores before Michael Ray’s surgery. Inflation has hit nearly every area in our lives, but people in this community still generously shared with Michael Ray. The money was used for all of those unexpected expenses one doesn’t know to plan for. A special pillow was needed to make his wheelchair a more comfortable ride as well as other items that helps to make this time a little less challenging. Mandy, well all of us, appreciates your help and your prayers; not only for Michael Ray but also for his caretakers.

Also, Daylight Savings Time has begun; there are patches of green scattered here and there and the birds sure seem a lot happier in the morning. I think we’ve almost made it through another winter.

Also, have an excellent week!

I did my taxes recently. It wasn’t a happy day. After finding out we owed $1,221.00 in taxes, I went to the grocery store and bought milk and a few groceries. As I walked through the front door of our house, the bottom fell out of the sack, the side of the jug split and one gallon of milk gushed out on my floor.

Anybody that has said "don’t cry over spilled milk" has never had to clean up a gallon of milk from their floor shortly after finding out they owe over a thousand dollars to the government. I cried over the milk, the taxes and I threw in a few other stresses in my life for good measure.

Ray and I live a pretty simple life. He works, I work. We both claim married with zero exemptions. We don’t have a lot but if you gave us a couple of thousand dollars we wouldn’t owe anything other than utilities and insurance every month. Our four exemptions have grown up and are now producing their own little exemptions. We don’t have any losses or at least none you can claim on income taxes. Our situation is just pretty cut and dried; we just didn’t have enough taxes taken out through the year.

I’ll admit, I’ve been feeling pretty un-American. I know that it is the responsibility of the citizens of this country to be responsible and pay their taxes. My anger is aimed at the United States government for not being responsible in the way much of the tax money is used.

If there would have been a protest in this area similar to the Boston Tea Party I would have gladly gotten involved in protest of having to pay so many taxes.

Ummmkay, to be logical, we have to pay taxes; a government needs funds to survive and thrive. There has to be money to maintain roads, keep all of the programs going; pay government employees and all of the other expenditures necessary to keep a country functioning smoothly.

What really makes me angry is all of the unnecessary spending. Have you ever read some of that stuff in The Readers Digest? Some of the stuff over the last few years would be kind of funny until you think about where that money is coming from.

Let me share just a teeny tiny few examples with you.

The Pentagon and Central Intelligence Agency poured approximately $11 million in to psychics who they were hoping would provide special insights into foreign terroristic activity. This unsuccessful endeavor was called the "Stargate" program.

The Department of Education spent $34 million to help Americans become better shoppers and homemakers.

There was a study of algae in hot water that only cost $1.8 million.

There was the $3.6 million spent for ‘team building’ exercises for the Postal Service. This money was spent for employee retreats where hundreds of Postal workers played children’s games, sang "We Are Family", wrote Christmas carols, went on treasure hunts, dressed in cat costumes and talked to imaginary wizards, magicians and mad scientists at staff meetings.

Millions of dollars of Social Security checks are mailed to fugitives even though a 1996 law prohibits the payments.

$560,000 was paid to trim weeds at the Montana Sheep Institute.

$440,000 is spent annually to have attendants push buttons on the fully automated Capitol Hill elevators used by Representative and Senators.

This list goes on and on and covers everything from abortions to zoos and involves billions of dollars of wasted monies.

As long as I’m already ranting and raving, please let me add a few things! It is just not fair that individuals and large companies with lots of money can get by with murder....literally. I’m not only referring to drug and food manufacturers but also to the makers of lotions, shampoos and other toiletries.

I just heard on the news recently that they are trying to get it passed that drug companies would not be liable if the drugs they manufactured made an individual sicker or worse yet, dead. There are already laws in place that protect manufacturers of malfunctioning appliances used in medical procedures that cause problems for an unfortunate patient.

Manufacturers of foods use the cheapest, easiest and fastest means in getting their products out to the consumer. Their products are not only lacking in nutrition, most of the additives and preservatives used are known to be harmful to the body and some are even cancer causing agents.

Those that mass produce lotions, sprays and perfumes have to be motivated by greed and must be lacking a conscience. Many of the ingredients of these products are suspected of causing cancer and other illnesses in the human body but are still being included in their poisonous potions.

I think all of this makes me so angry because it makes me feel totally helpless and hopeless. When you feel helpless and hopeless, it can make you psycho-crazy and turn you into a deranged nutcase.

Money, it is all about money. Money and greed and big companies doing what they want and the government not protecting the people from all of these harmful additives, preservatives, chemicals and drugs that are eating away at the health of the American people.

Now you add all of these thoughts on top of listening to all of the political wrangling going on and it makes one just a tiny bit hesitant about our government leaders, past, present and future.

This is just a mild outline of the thoughts going through my mind when I picked up the February 17, 2008 of the Parade magazine. The feature story was about the 10 world’s worst dictators. The short articles on these 10 men read like a horror story. The 10 countries listed in the story are lacking freedom and democracy. Civilians are arrested, tortured and killed for little or no reason. In North Korea three generations of a family can be punished for a crime that a member of their family allegedly committed. In Zimbabwe, inflation has hit 8000% and unemployment has reached 80%. Not only are citizens forced to have abortions in China , the government controls all the media and limits the practice of religion. 99% of all trials in China result in a guilty verdict.

There seemed to be no human rights allowed the citizens of these 10 countries. Many citizens of these countries even lost their right to live even though they had committed no crime.

The story made me think. The information listed on these countries and the dictators running these countries put my previous thoughts into prospective.

I’m still not happy with having to pay in $1221.00 to income tax, but I am happy to be living in a country I can gripe about it without worrying about being punished or killed for complaining.

I think our government should have to be much more accountable to the people for how they spend the money coming from the American citizens.

I don’t mind contributing to the upkeep of America’s roads. I don’t mind paying my part of government programs. (Unless, of course, the people receiving government assistance are having way more fun in life than I am!) I’m okay with adding my share of the oil to keep this country running smoothly. I just hate to think that one penny of mine goes to fund something really, really stupid or goes to people that just don’t deserve it.

I wonder if I could get a grant from the government to study and experiment using different kinds of plastics to make milk jugs out of. My goal would be to find one sturdy enough to withstand being dropped without splitting and releasing the contents in an undesirable location. At my best guestimation, I believe a $2 million grant would cover my start-up costs.

Also, thank you for allowing me to grump and gripe about my little dilemma. I hope your story is much happier.

Also, have an excellent week!

I had already unloaded my cart and I could see the cashier was having a bad enough day without any smart-mouth comments from me, so I tried to relax and checked out the magazines. It worked. I totally forgot about the problem-challenged customer ahead of me and submerged myself into the lives of a group of people that seem to soak up troubles, problems, pregnancies and marriages like a sponge. The sponges are then squeezed out on to the pages of magazines and newspapers throughout the land for people like me to read while stuck in line.

Finally, the lady’s commentary of her cleaning problems dwindled off and she showed signs of finally writing her check. She must have begun to experience some swelling in her ankles because she was shifting from one foot to the other and leaning against the counter. To the relief of the cashier, the talkative customer moved towards the exit of the store.

As I moved into position as her next customer, the cashier had a look on her face that was sheer desperation. I greeted her and asked what product she would recommend to make my cat’s litter box smell like roses. She looked like she was going to cry until I started laughing and then she joined in. Neither of us mentioned her previous customer because sometimes words fail.

On my way home, I was thinking about how glad I am I wasn’t a cashier. I’ve been there and done that for several years and I remember going home after particularly bad days with no faith left in me for the human race.

Then my mind started wandering to the magazines I had looked at while in line and decided I would rather be a cashier than one of the rich and famous in those magazines.

The entertainment industry includes not only movies, television and recording stars, but also the many magazines and newspaper articles, stories and "tell all" books on these larger-than-life "beautiful" people.

As with every thing else, there are two sides to this story also, maybe three or four.

Us, aaahhhh, normal people, seem to have a fascination for reading about the lives and predicaments of the celebrities. As most of us feel that our lives are pretty much the same-old, same-old each day, the stories we read about the famous contain elements of excitement, disaster, romance and mystery. Although there may be some of these stories that make us wish for more of these happenings in our lives, other stories make us glad we are living the simple life.

How many would like to trade places right now with Brittany Spears? A couple of failed marriages, lost both of her children to her ex-husband and information and pictures of a personal matter plastered across the front of all the tabloids in the land.

I could not imagine living a life where there were people outside my door with cameras 24 hours a day. You couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by the paparazzi hoping for a good picture to sell to the magazines.

Everybody has "off" days where you feel like dressing slouchy and not wearing makeup. The photographers would be hiding around the corner to take a picture of you. It would then end up in the magazines with a story that you just broke up with whoever or you were suffering with a serious illness or eating disorder or maybe a pregnancy rumor with a three name guess list for who the father is.

If you were famous, you would have no privacy, people would say things about you that were not true and you would have unflattering pictures taken of you for the whole world to check out. You would never know if someone was being nice to you just because of who you are.

Another side is that many people that find themselves in the position of stardom and wealth make choices that invites public scrutiny. Some stars feel that it is important to keep their names out there and in the media and it doesn’t matter if the news is positive or negative. When their incomes provide them with unlimited funds, their activities can provide the gossip magazines with unlimited copy.

So yes, the grass is usually greener on the other side and the money, houses, vacations and fancy vehicles would be fun, but............

I don’t think I could really enjoy buying a purse for $1,300.00 or a pair of shoes for $700.00 at the same time I was lending my name to a "save the starving children" organization. Extreme excess seems to breed instability and an erratic life-style.

I guess it doesn’t matter whether we are a cashier, farmer, office worker, doctor, lawyer or movie star, there are good things and bad things to deal with in any job.

I would rather be paid $7.00 an hour to cope with a woman consumed with her cleaning complications than make millions and read about my crazy life whether true or not on the pages of a national magazine. Simple is just so much easier to manage.

Also, for anybody with cleaning problems, Heloise has some books that give excellent suggestions for cleaning and organizing. At least one book does include hints on hard water deposits.

Also, have an excellent week living the simple life!

Ray and I were headed home from Hutchinson and the higher I turned the heater, the colder I seemed to get. It was cold that night and I’m just naturally cold blooded so it didn’t register that I was getting sick until my bone marrow turned to ice.

After taking a dose of Nyquil, I headed for bed with my microwaved rice bag and the mistaken idea that I would sleep off those teeth-chattering chills.

Things went downhill from there. If the air coming out of my mouth had gotten any hotter, I would have been breathing fire. I put my "dragon breath" to good use and covered my head letting the heat help warm my shaking extremities.

My body became a toolbox filled with battery powered miniature tools traveling through my bloodstream to every part of my body. Hammers pounded on my eyeballs causing a throbbing that echoed throughout my brain. There were at least 206 mini drills, one for each bone in my body. I’m pretty sure I felt the results of needle nose pliers, vice grips and a few pointy things. I’d say maybe a Phillips head screwdriver or a nail set or maybe the tip of a utility knife. Tiny micro saws ripped through nerves, muscles and tissue in their attempt to cause the most excruciating misery possible. I was just a powerhouse of pain!

I can’t tell you exactly or specifically what happened the following three days, but here are a few of the things I do remember.

I talked to my mom a lot. Now I know that it is only natural to seek comfort from one’s mother when not feeling well but…..my mom died almost three years ago.

My dog and one of my cats seemed to always be there beside me. Yes, they talked to me also, in people talk.

I also ended up as a guest at a native type of celebration. I was scared and hurting and I believe it was a cannibalistic feast where I was to be the meal. I think this one must have come from that carfax.com commercial that has the witch doctor on it. I think I recognize that guy at the feast.

Those three days held many other great adventures. I struggled through a wasteland covered with shards of dead trees and old rusted automobiles while forced to breathe stale parched air that seemed to lack oxygen. I was so tired of walking, but I couldn’t stop until I reached the end. I just couldn’t find the end.

I did drink lots of water. I ate oranges. I wanted to take lots of baths, but when I wobbled into the bathroom and couldn’t figure out which way to turn the faucet for hot or cold, I gave up and went back to bed.

I have no way of knowing how high my fever went as it was the third day before I had the strength to search through the cabinet for my Sponge Bob thermometer. I figured my fever had burned itself out by that time and was surprised to find the thermometer registering 101.9 degrees.

I’ve talked to others who have had pretty much the same thing and everyone seems to agree that it’s the sickest they have been in years. It made me feel a smidgen better to hear that it wasn’t just me that spent a few extremely agonizing days doing battle with an invisible enemy.

It’s not that I want others to be sick; I was just worried that between withdrawing from Dr. Pepper and the many maladies middle-age women experience, I was going to feel like this forever. Talking with Lee Wade put my mind at ease. He had this "thing" also, and he doesn’t drink pop and well, the other mentioned maladies are non-applicable soooooo I knew this "thing" was bad all by itself.

Many times over the years, when things get a little rough, I always wonder what lesson I should be learning. Part of this may come from wanting to be a better person, but most of it is probably because I don’t like difficult times. If there is a lesson to learn, let’s learn it and move on to better times.

This "thing" made me realize just how quickly and easily I can breeze through someone’s account of their illness or injury without slowing down and really listening. It’s not that I don’t care; I hate hearing that people are sick or injured. I am fortunate to enjoy good health most of the time and sometimes I don’t stop to think about what my life would be like if I hurt all of the time. After a few days of feeling totally awful, it made me think of all of the people who are in constant pain and how they can possibly manage to function in life. If this is something I need to be learning, I’m writing it down on a sticky note so I don’t forget. I definitely do not want to have to repeat this lesson.

Also, Daylight Saving Time begins in a short few weeks with spring following shortly after. We can make it!

Also, have an excellent and healthy week!

I started drinking it regularly in 1989. I liked the taste, the caffeine gave me that kick to make it through my day and it was my reward for finishing any unpleasant task I had in front of me.

Starting out, I don’t think I drank it every day. With four small children, money was not plentiful, but I do remember treating myself to a bottle as often as possible.

Over the years, it was my constant "friend". When my feelings were hurt, I had a Dr. Pepper. When I was angry, I had a Dr. Pepper. When I was happy, I had a Dr. Pepper. Getting out of bed in the morning was tolerable because I had a Dr. Pepper waiting for me. I looked forward to my evening Dr. Pepper as a way to wind down after a busy day. I can’t tell you when I became physically addicted, but I have known it for a long time. I have been failing in my New Year resolutions to quit for at least 10 years, if not more.

Cravings attacked me even when I was totally emerged in an activity where I was using both mental and physical. I don’t know when the physical addiction was joined by a psychological one; I just know that I found contentment in having a 20 ounce bottle of Dr. Pepper sitting beside me.

The bottle became an extension of me. Having the bottle in my hands, hearing the hiss when I unscrewed the cap, smelling the tangy smell were all included in my "need" for Dr. Pepper.

I craved the feel of the fizzing liquid as it hit the back of my throat and could tell by the way I felt when the level of Dr. Pepper in my blood dropped. I planned ahead and made sure I had plenty of Dr. Pepper in the house and became agitated if I ran low late in the evening.

Dr. Pepper even became part of my identity. The cashiers at Whites and EZ Mart would remark if I made purchases that did not include Dr. Pepper. When my children would see something with Dr. Pepper on it, they thought of me.

I have been two weeks without that sweet tasting elixir; two weeks of mourning the passing of a friend; two weeks since that ambrosial poison has flowed down my throat to wreak havoc on my body. You may think that poison is too strong of word to use for a soft drink, but actually, it may not be strong enough.

The listed ingredients in Dr. Pepper are carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup, caramel color, phosphoric acid, natural and artificial flavors, sodium benzoate and caffeine.

Carbonated water is made by pumping carbon dioxide into water or other liquid. Carbon dioxide is a waste product of cellular and food metabolism and is what our body expels. I’m sure our respiratory systems really appreciate our unnecessary intake of carbon dioxide since it is working so hard to inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide.

Commonly called HFCS, high fructose corn syrup is an interesting ingredient. It is used in food and drinks as a cheap replacement for sugar. Another name that HFCS goes under is crystalline fructose. Due to the concentration of this ingredient; a 20 ounce bottle of Dr. Pepper contains the equivalent of 17 teaspoons of sugar. Included in the medical problems HFCS can cause is an increased risk of osteoporosis, type 2 diabetes, heart disease, obesity and accelerated aging. With having fructose in the name, it sounds just a tiny bit healthy. There is not one thing positive about HFCS except to the manufacturers who are making millions off of this health hazard.

Sorry, but you are no better off drinking diet soft drinks. Aspartame has been linked to insomnia, depression and to some kinds of cancer. Research has also shown that consuming aspartame increases your appetite and cravings for carbohydrates.

Caramel color is obtained by heating sugar until a brown color develops. Caramel coloring has negative genetic effects and is a cancer-causing agent.

Phosphoric acid is as scary as it sounds. It will interfere with the body’s ability to use calcium which will cause the decay of teeth and osteoporosis. It will also neutralize the acid in your stomach which will affect the way your body utilizes nutrients.

Then you have all of the natural and artificial flavors. They surely can’t be as harmful as the ingredients that are specifically listed, but who really knows?

Sodium benzoate is a preservative that is derived from benzoic acid. It occurs naturally in berries, but is used in huge quantities in some soft drinks and foods to prevent mold. Research shows that this preservative causes serious damage to cells and has the ability to switch off vital parts of DNA. This causes problems that are usually connected to aging and alcoholism. The constant consumption of this preservative can lead to cirrhosis of the liver and other degenerative diseases such as Parkinson’s. This totally destroys my superior remark that, "at least my addiction isn’t to whiskey." You may not get a DUI when drinking Dr. Pepper, but you still end up with a diseased liver.

Last but not least is caffeine, my favorite. Information on this drug is contradictory to say the least. Caffeine is said to increase mental function and alertness and lesson muscle pain after vigorous exercise. Other studies have shown that not only does it cause high blood pressure, high cholesterol levels and vitamin and mineral depletion, it also causes anxiety and feelings of aggression.

Did I know about how detrimental Dr. Pepper was to the body all of the years I drank it? Not totally, but I knew it was bad. Is it hard to go through every day without a Dr. Pepper within reach? You bet your worst cravings it is. Do I regret my years and years of Dr. Pepper abuse? I do with all of my being. Will I ever drink Dr. Pepper again? There is a large black skull and crossbones splashed across the Dr. Pepper label that is burned into my brain and I will never drink it again. There is not one petty excuse, my lack of self-control or one of my whiney-baby rationalizations worth losing my eyesight over.

You may think I’m on my soapbox because I’m giving up my addiction of choice, but the facts are the facts and they are not hard to find if you are looking for them.

This column came about from talking to Susan Raleigh, the USD #254 school health nurse, in an Alco checkout line. I was telling her about giving up Dr. Pepper after a visit to the eye doctor. After being asked several times if diabetes ran in my family, I got the idea. I was given much stronger contacts and instructed to get my blood tested. Susan then mentioned that she had made contracts with the students to give up pop for a day. Only a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to honestly sign such a contract.

It is sad that soft drinks have become an issue for elementary age children. We as parents shudder in frustrated anger if we find our children experimenting with tobacco products. Our minds recoil at the thought that our children could ever become drug users. We caution our youth on the disastrous effects of using alcohol. We watch our children drink pop, an addictive liquid that will damage every part of their bodies, without nothing more than a light admonition.

After almost a decade of working for The Gyp Hill Premiere, my desk has become the parking place for several signs. One that I have found humorous and quite true over the years, "If it weren’t for CAFFEINE , I’d have no personality at all!" has lost its zing as I struggle with losing the zip that I thought kept me going. Now I prefer my sign, "Thank You For Not Being Perky".

How much Dr. Pepper is safe? That is your choice. Compare it to other poisons. How much antifreeze are you willing to consume daily? How large of dose of arsenic would be too much to give to your children along with their vitamins? How much cyanide is too much? Dr. Pepper may act slower than the above mentioned poisons, but I guarantee you, soft drinks will damage your body slowly and quietly until the results can no longer be ignored.

Also, have an excellent week!

There are weeks that it is hard to find the time to sit long enough to get a column written. There are weeks that my mind is cluttered with so many personal issues that it is hard to find enough clarity to put a group of words together that make any sense. Then there are those weeks that my mind seems to be a useless part of my body that is just along for the ride. You put all of those kinds of weeks together and it doesn’t leave many easy weeks.

There are some advantages. I can vent about pet peeves. I can brag on my children and grandchildren. I can publicly defend myself instead of wasting my time thinking about all of the things I should have said.

I guess that is kind of what I’m doing this week. After mentioning how much I like Aesop’s Fables last week in my column, I heard a few negative comments on the value these fables are to today’s life.

According to the Greek historian Herodotus, the fables were invented and written by a slave named Aesop who lived in ancient Greece during the 6th century BC. Well over 600 fables have been contributed to being written by Aesop. Most have to do with the imaginary adventures of animals which acted and spoke like humans. Each fable is designed to teach a lesson.

Now I believe that if one is looking for a navigational source to living your life, The Bible is the best source one can turn to for guidance. I would never, never, never suggest any other literary source could exceed the counsel, instructions and advice the "good book" has to offer. One can find not only how to treat your neighbors and conduct your business and financial affairs, but it is also an excellent behavioral management manual.

Aesop’s Fables do not seem to stray far from the direction the Bible takes.

For example, the well known fable, The Ant and the Grasshopper, teaches that one must exert effort and prepare for the future. The ants worked hard all summer to store food for the winter months while the grasshoppers played and danced. When the winter months descended on them with icy fury, the ants were ready while the grasshoppers were without the necessary food to make it through the winter.

Another fable that most people are familiar with is The Lion and the Mouse. A mouse was unfortunate enough to awaken a lion from his nap and was caught in the lion’s large paw. The mouse begged for his life and promised to repay the lion if he would let him go. Although amused to think that the small mouse would ever be able to help him, the lion agreed to let the scared rodent loose. On down the road, the lion was caught in a hunter’s net and the mouse chewed through the ropes to give the lion his freedom. What better example of what goes around comes around. Kindness is never a waste of time.

Yet another famous fable is The Tortoise and the Hare. After being challenged to a race, the slow tortoise won the race by being persistent, consistent and steady. The hare, in his arrogance of being the quicker of the two, lost from being unable to focus on reaching the goal without wavering from the course.

The Jackass and the Mule tells the story of the two animals on a journey with the jackass carrying a heavy load. When the jackass asked the mule for help carrying his load, the mule rejected the jackass’s plea. Eventually the jackass fell down dead and the mule had to carry the entire load. This fable teaches us that in the long run it is a lot better for us to help the jackasses in our life, than deal with the consequences of withholding our help.

How about The Shepherd’s Boy? This is the story of a bored little boy tending the sheep. Wanting a little excitement, he screams "wolf" and when all the village men came out to help him save the sheep, they find there is no wolf. That excitement wore off soon and he cried "wolf" again. Here came all the villagers again and they were a little ticked that he had lied to them again. A few days later a wolf did show up to feast on his sheep and the boy once more hollered "wolf". Tired of being lied to, the people in the village ignored him and you can imagine the consequences. This short story gives you a pretty good idea what happens to liars. After being caught lying, be it a black lie or just a little teeny tiny white lie, people will stop believing any of the words that come out of your mouth.

The Dog and the Shadow tells of a dog crossing a bridge with a piece of meat in his mouth. Looking down into the water he sees a dog with a piece of meat in his mouth that sure looked much larger. He grabbed for the other dog’s meat which resulted in him losing his in the swift current. This is a perfect lesson in being contented with what you have instead of trying to grab something bigger and better than your neighbors.

The list of character building morals that you can retrieve from these fables go on and on. Many of these little stories are not happy feel good comedies, but end in some disastrous tragedy. Warning us about some of the pitfalls of life, some fables caution us about pride and arrogance; hanging out with the wrong crowd; trying to please everybody; self-interest, fair-weather friends; dishonesty; cowardice; counting your chickens before they are hatched and the circumstances to heed when dealing with wealth and fame. Some of the admirable traits other fables encourage are gratitude, forgiveness, unity, love and sharing.

Whether the parables of Jesus or the fables of Aesop, these short stories are loaded with camouflaged wisdom. They provide a gentle, kind and non-judgmental way of giving instruction on what and what not to do in your life. Instead of just reaching out and slapping you upside the head, the fables make you think as they caution you about your wrongdoings and inspire you to do what’s right.

Also, have an excellent week!

Well, time has marched on and the old way of letting your fingers wander through the pages of a book of knowledge has been replaced by the technically advanced method of letting your fingers wander over the keyboard taking you directly to Google.

I google a lot! My mind will be wandering through some foggy maze out in the left field of my imagination and I run head long into a question. I google. When I get bored with whatever else I’m doing on the computer; I google. When I want to do some comparison shopping or just wander the aisles of the cybermarkets, I google.

Biographies have always been one of my favorite choices when given a selection of reading materials. Due to Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday being January 15 and observed January 21 this year, his name came up on a random site I was sifting through.

I knew that he was an assassinated civil rights leader and remember phrases from his "I Have a Dream" speech, but that was the extent of my knowledge of this man born in Alabama in 1929.

I settled into my chair and began to read biographical information from several of the different sites.

I learned that although he was named Michael Luther King, Jr. at birth, he changed his name to Martin Luther after Martin Luther, the leader of the great religious revolt of the sixteenth century in Germany. He followed in his grandfather and father’s footsteps by graduating from Morehouse College in 1948 with a B. A. degree. He then attended the Crozer Theological Seminary for three years in Pennsylvania before receiving his doctorate degree in 1955 from the Boston University.

He married Coretta Scott and they became parents of two sons and two daughters. He was a member of the executive committee of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. He became the leader of the first great Negro nonviolent demonstration of contemporary times in the United States. The bus boycott lasted 382 days and caused the Supreme Court of the United States to declare the laws requiring segregation on buses to be unconstitutional. During this time, King was arrested, he suffered abuse and his home was bombed. He emerged from this boycott as a nationally known civil rights leader.

Between 1957 and 1968 he traveled over six million miles and spoke over twenty-five hundred times. He was arrested approximately twenty times and assaulted at least four times. He directed the peaceful march on Washington , D.C. where in front of 250,000 people he delivered his address, "I Have a Dream." He was awarded five honorary degrees and was named Man of the Year by Time magazine in 1963. At the age of thirty-five, Martin Luther King, Jr., was the youngest man to have received the Nobel Peace Prize. After receiving notification of the award, he announced he would turn the prize money of $54,123 over to the furtherance of the civil rights movement.

King was in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968 where he was planning a protest march in sympathy for striking garbage workers. He was assassinated that evening while standing on the balcony of his motel room.

I was impressed by the dedication and perseverance demonstrated by this man’s actions. I sat in my chair and thought of the horror King’s family suffered through. My interest was captured and I went on to another site.

Unlike reading the encyclopedia, there are many entries relating to the same individual. The next site I went to told a different story.

This site told the story of a man who plagiarized most of his papers in college and much of the writing in his books. Included in the information were suggestions that he was affiliated with the Communists and was being investigated by the FBI. These files have been sealed from the American public until 2027. Other accusations included mismanagement of money, illicit sexual practices and a variety of other misdeeds unbecoming to a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

The Reverend Ralph David Abernathy, a close friend and advisor to King wrote an autobiography in 1989 named And the walls came tumbling down. I googled Abernathy and found that he died shortly after his book was published. Many felt the uproar from his published book hastened his death. In his book he not only told the story of the struggles that he and King endured for the civil rights movement, but also a story that many of the followers of King felt was the confessions of a traitor.

After reading several accounts of the same man with so many discrepancies, I was confused. How could a man fight so hard for freedom for his people and still associate with Communists? How could a family man participate in the reported sexual activities? How could the winner of a Nobel Peace Prize, a leader seeking change in a peaceful manner, engage in violent activities? How could a man who preached God’s love from the pulpit justify his actions that reflected the hate of man?

I don’t have the answers. Google didn’t seem to have the answers either. It did make for an interesting evening of reading and left me with a curiosity of what they will find in those files in 2027.

I did find the night of reading a reminder that even if a man is put on a pedestal, he still isn’t perfect.

So if you get tired of ogling the television on these long cold winter nights, try googling the computer and delve into all of the info that is floating around out there in cyperspace; oh, and you can find all of Aesop’s Fables too.

Also, have an excellent week!

Their daily activities took a lot longer to accomplish and was much less convenient compared to ours today. Automatic washers, dryers, dishwashers, microwaves and all of the other handy kitchen gadgets on the market today allows our everyday duties and responsibilities to be done quickly and with a lot less effort.

With all of these time saving devices available, where is all of that saved time going? Why don’t we have time to spend with our families and friends? Why don’t we have time to slow down to take a few minutes to show kindness to those we come in contact with through the day? Why don’t we have time for those front-porch, neighborhood, bonding, feel-good get-togethers that was once enjoyed and the foundation of most peoples’ social life.

Granted, we have had a few extra things added to our daily itineraries. We now have several favorite TV shows a week that we have to tune in to and of course all of our e-mail that seems impossible to stay up with and texting on the cell phone does take up lots of time.

We rush around in our own busy little worlds with good intentions that never culminate into actions. It doesn’t seem right or wrong, it just seems like life.

Then somebody screeches to a stop and shows you an act of kindness, a kind word or a friendly smile. It makes you think and it certainly makes you appreciative.

A woman took time out of her busy life to stop me in the grocery store the other night and shower me with kind words. It hadn’t been a good day and those words washed off a lot of the day’s dirt. We camped in one of the aisles and talked for a while. I walked out of the grocery store feeling so much better than when I had walked in and it had nothing to do with Dr. Pepper this time.

That encounter got me thinking about kindness and how kindness can change lives.

I remember a neighbor that lived across the street from us when I was growing up. Mrs. Banks was not in good health. Her gnarled body moved painfully slow as she tended to the needs of her beautiful African Violets. Her bent form distorted by a dowager’s hump camouflaged the necessity of her having to view everything at nose length. Only when you noticed how thick her glasses were in front of her small watery eyes did you realize that the woman was almost blind.

As a child, none of that registered with me. She was just Mrs. Banks. She would pay me for bunches of wild asparagus I would pick for her. She paid me for mowing her large lawn when I could barely see over the lawnmower handle. She was my main source of income that allowed me to buy all of those five cent packages of M & M’s, my addiction at the time.

She never talked much. Hindsight tells me it was because talking was probably pretty uncomfortable for her as every movement made by her mouth resulted in the clickity-clack of her ill-fitting dentures. She would point out her newest flowers, request my help in her daily endeavors and remind me when there would be good shows on TV.

This was the 1960s and we did not have a television at our house. She would invite me to her house in the evenings to watch The Beverly Hillbillies, The Andy Griffith Show, Dick Van Dyck Show and specials that she thought I would enjoy. I would sit on a vinyl covered loveseat with the upholstery tacks biting into the backs of my legs and enjoy every black and white show I watched with her.

Along with her other maladies, she also suffered from some sort of lung problem. She would cough and hack and spit into a glass jar she kept by her side. There was no way to avoid watching her discomfort as she had to sit within inches of the screen to be able to make out the characters providing the entertainment. The closeness made it convenient for her to adjust the rabbit ears when the picture became fuzzy or to reach for the TV Guide, press it up to her face and using a magnifying glass, check on the upcoming programs.

None of the sounds and sights mattered to me. What mattered was that she took time for me and seemed to enjoy the time we spent together.

When she took a trip or spent time in the hospital, I took care of her plants. I took my time and watered them exactly the way she showed me. I mixed up the concoctions and carefully measured the amount of nourishment I gave each plant. I made sure I didn’t splash water on the leaves and each time I checked the dirt in exactly the same way she showed me.

Of course I didn’t psychologically analyze it at the time, but her kindness to me motivated me to do my very best in everything I did for her.

Kindness creates a cycle. When kindness is shown to an individual, many times that individual passes it on and it becomes as a stone thrown into the water and the ripples extends long past the time the stone hits bottom.

When we take the time to show kindness to others, the ripple effect will continue its outward flow and result in many acts of kindness.

When we are spending our social interactive time on the computer instead of with our family and friends, googling "random acts of kindness" is worth the time. There is actually a foundation which is committed to spreading kindness. Reading examples of kindness and the results and rewards should be a motivating means of starting our own cycle of kindness.

Also, thanks Teresa and Juanita for your kindness. I really appreciate your time and words.

Also, if anybody out there has had a child or knows of a child with Perthes Disease; I would appreciate hearing from you. Michael Ray will be having surgery soon and both legs will be placed in Petri casts with a bar keeping his legs in a V position. This will take many adjustments including learning how to manage a wheelchair, transportation and hygiene. It would be great to be able to go into the game knowing a few rules. I can be reached at 620-886-3248.

Also, have you talked to Cliff and Gayla McKinney lately?

Also, have an excellent week as you start the new year with some random acts of kindness!

With this being the first full year of being in my fifties, I feel like I’m stepping into another stage of my life. I know that it is usually called middle age, but I think that I’m going to call it the re age.

Please let me explain. After you get a few decades behind you, I believe that you begin to reflect on your life. You reassess your beliefs, your priorities, hopes, goals and dreams. You refocus to find what is most important to you at this stage of your life. You review your life thus far and are relieved when you recognize your positive actions and deeds and you recoil in regret and remorse when your realize all of your screw ups.

When I look at my first decade, I can recall that child but it’s hard for me to reconcile the fact the she is me. That child was pretty tough and strong-willed, but she had her ways to relax and rejuvenate. Her ears would pick up the clanging of harnesses and rumble of wagon wheels when her reclusive neighbor would hitch up his team of horses to head to town. The old man would rein in his horses and sit patiently when he saw the child running towards him. He wouldn’t help the girl onto the wagon and never talked much, but he always had cellophane wrapped caramels to share and occasionally let her hold the reins and guide the horses down the road. She would wait in the wagon and talk to the horses and daydream while he ran his errands in town. It never crossed the little girl’s mind that his was the only wagon and horses on the street or that her neighbor was rather short and round and hygiene- challenged or they were traveling a lot slower than the cars whizzing past them. It was a time that her world was safe and okay and her mind could wander. It was a time of replenishment, restoration and refueling of that child’s resources and a refuge when life became too restricted and repetitious.

I want to reestablish that trait in my present day existence. I want to naturally know when I need a renewal and search for that escape without worrying about what other people are thinking and how fast I have to hurry in my resolution to achieve relaxation.

As I think back on my rebellious years, I wonder if there was anything worth redeeming out of those years. I remember some of the most memorable times were those I was impulsive and reckless. We lived a couple of blocks from a wooded area that I played in while growing up. The area was still intact when Ray and I started hanging out. We would spend hours in the woods with friends climbing the skinny trees. Once at the top, the tree would bend and you could either grab another tree on the way down or just hang on for the ride until you got close enough to the ground to let go. Well, our little paradise was invaded by a sawmill and the trees were chopped down. In their place was a humongous pile of sawdust. We discovered that burying ourselves on a cold winter day in that sawdust kept us warm and toasty as we carried on our teenage conversations. It probably wasn’t very safe, but the bunch of us made some good memories in our sawdust sauna.

I want to recoup that impulsiveness to try new things, and get out of my ruts instead of repressing any feeling of spontaneity and missing out on some remarkable experiences in the name of playing it safe.

My third decade was ten years of rewarding reproduction, nurturing and responsibility. It was reforming to move from a selfish stage into a period of time where there was absolutely no room for selfish behavior. As we welcomed four little people into our lives, our lives revolved around their wants and needs. I was amazed everyday with their looks and their actions. I loved my children so much and each day brought new stories as they tumbled through life.

I want to recapture those feelings of wonder; I want to return to the sensitivity where laughter could render me a helpless mass of giggles just watching a child play. I never want to become so self-centered that I cannot be a nurturing mother and grandmother.

My thirties was a revelation of real life. I was so busy with the job, cooking, cleaning, laundry; and dealing with all of the many relationships, that decade flew by in a blur. My life required 100 percent of me with no reprieve, no recess; no opportunity to recede into a reclusive state of mind. It was a time of dealing with teenagers, hurting over their hurts and trying to control the urge to pinch their little heads off their bodies when they had done something stupid. It was a decade of being resigned to sleepless nights and frustrating days.

If there is anything I got out of that decade, it is that I always want to want to give 100 percent to the important people and things in my life. Realistically, I may not be able to, but I want the "want to" to always be there.

Things slowed down in my fifth decade. I started being a little more reasonable with dealing with myself and stopped expecting so much from me. I spent time recuperating from the previous decade and the relentless demands. I relinquished many of my old ways of thinking and became more open-minded. I experienced a resurgence of old dreams, hobbies and my love of reading.

This rendezvous with reliving my past decades reveals why this time of reminiscing, reviewing, reckoning and recollecting should be called the re age instead of middle age.

Also, have an excellent week and a really refreshing, rejuvenating, restful and rewarding New Year!

You find yourself sitting on the starting line, one quivering foot on the clutch and the other on the accelerator, breathlessly waiting for the signal that the race is on. The awaited signal is flashed and the clutch pops and the accelerator is stomped as the tires squeal in response. Your heartbeat accelerates with the speed as you listen closely to your engine, pushing each gear to its limit before shifting to the next. The smell of burning rubber wafts in the window fueling your adrenaline rush as the trees become a blur in your peripheral vision. The finish line of the quarter mile stretch comes in to view about the same time you know your engine is rapped out at top speed. You allow yourself a 15 second giggle when you realize that the arrogant guy with the hotter car has crossed the finish line a half car length behind you. You put on your "cool" face when you return to the starting line to check out how long of blackie you left on your quick start.

Nope, that’s not the burnout I’m talking about. In fact, the burnout I’m talking about has quite the opposite effect on you.

I’m talking about holiday burnout. You know you are dangerously close when you have to force your resistant body out of bed each morning. When you find yourself with the bah humbug attitude instead of one of joy, excitement and ho ho ho, you probably have already reached the burnout stage.

The holidays add an extra strain to already bulging schedules. Finances can be overwhelming all year long and then the gift buying season rolls around. Tight budgets explode and money management becomes a conglomerated mess that will continue to haunt you in the months to come.

Mixed in with the chaos is the tap dancing to try to please everyone on your Christmas list and the fear that you forgot to add someone’s name. Every waking minute is spent in preparation for the upcoming holiday celebration. Cleaning, shopping, cooking, planning and wrapping gifts leaves you exhausted as you drop in to bed each night.

When you find your life buried in this holiday hustle, it’s time to stop and take a break. Really, think about it. Is everything going to fall apart if you take just a bit of time for yourself? If you will do something to rejuvenate your tired being, you will become much more productive in your quest for the perfect Christmas.

Below is a list of ten suggestions that you can feel free to customize to your own likes and dislikes. Make sure you do something for you everyday and it’ll make it so much easier to do all that stuff for others.

1) Take a walk. No matter how cold it is outside, with enough layers of clothes you’ll be as comfy as you are on a springtime walk. The brisk air will invigorate your body, mind and spirit.

2) Burn a holiday scented candle. When your olfactory nerve smells something yummy, it’ll trick the rest of your body into being happy.

3) Listen to music. Here again is a subject with some scientific backup that proves that music does some jangling of the functions of the brain that relieves stress and causes a feeling of happiness and contentment.

4) Take an hour to sit down in front of the TV and watch Law and Order or whatever your favorite program is. Eat a bowl of hot, nutritious stew and just forget everything you have to do for just a little while.

5) Call an optimistic friend for a catch-up chat.

6) What makes you laugh really hard? Do it everyday! It’ll make taking those deep breaths fun.

7) Take a drive around town, through Sharon or even to Pratt and enjoy the Christmas lights. They are only lit up once a year and they are not just for children.

8) Look around and find someone who looks more stressed than you and invite them out to lunch or send them a funny card or e-mail.

9) Write a letter of appreciation to someone that made a difference in your life in the past year.

10) Spend some time meditating on the real meaning of Christmas and then share your thoughts with those you love. It will help prioritize your frenzied activities.

Now if you just can’t bring yourself to reign it in and you are afraid to break your holiday stride, then rev up your engines, pop your clutch and keep your eyes on the finish line!

I’ve always made yearly resolutions and I have failed every year. You would think that I would give up but nooooooooooo, I can feel myself gearing up to try one more year. Maybe now that I have hit the middle age of 50 I will finally be able to find the self-control and self-discipline somewhere within me to actually be successful this year.

I’m going to be doing things differently this time around. For the last several years, quitting Dr. Pepper has been in the top five personal goals I set for myself. Every year by late January 2, I have searched through my large bag of excuses and found a perfect reason why I deserved a Dr. Pepper and that was that. Actually, that’s the way it’s been with all of my resolutions in the past, well, ever since I started making resolutions. Due to my history, I have decided to make only one resolution this year instead of my usual list of 10 or more.

My New Year’s Resolution for 2008 is to not be a grouchy, grumpy, gripey and grumbley old lady.

I am not wimping out by dropping my list to a single resolution. It may only be one resolution, but it covers a lot of territory. This resolution will require me to make daily self-inspections and be conscientious in renewing my goal for the year one day at a time. I will have to be diligent in self-examination and constant with tweaking the knobs of my behavior. I’ve done a lot of thinking on the subject and I think that if I’m ever going to make some serious changes in my life, I had better get at it.

I’ve been thinking about all the reasons a person loses their feelings, flair, fascination and faith, giving up the fight and becoming forlorn in their life.

I believe that many times pain is a major component when a person becomes an irritable, ill-mannered, impatient and indignant individual. It is really, really hard to be sunshine and smiles when you are in pain. Although pain is not totally avoidable, taking care of one’s health is the number one way to lessen your chances of having physical ailments constantly attacking your body.

I think another explanation for somebody being less than agreeable, abrasive, aggravating and aggressive would be attitude. Once you lose an attitude of gratitude for everyone and everything in your life, your thoughts turn to everything you don’t have and your list of resentments and regrets begin to grow. It is hard to smile and laugh if you are buried in a suffocating pile of bitterness.

Being self-absorbed and selfish would be another shortcut to being a sad, stingy, sullen and snappish person. If we get busy helping others, we are not going to have a whole lot of time to sit around and feel sorry for ourselves.

Allowing your social life to become non-existent is yet another cause for charcters to become critical, cranky, crabby and cantankerous. It has been scientifically proven that people who have a good strong social support system live a happier and healthier life.

I believe people become disgruntled, disagreeable, discontented and dissatisfied as they age if they do not keep their spiritual lives healthy. As we leave the 20s, 30s and 40s behind, we lose the attitude of living forever. We have to start facing our own mortality when we read the obituary page and find many much younger than us listed there.

Other ways to avoid being mad, melancholy, miserable and malcontent is to continue learning. Whether you decide to go back to school, learn how to operate some newfangled technological equipment or help a third grader with their homework, learning will give your mind some much needed aerobic activity.

Ummmkay, see what I mean? This resolution covers every resolution I have ever made and more. I’m just hoping that if I tuck all of my previous New Year’s Resolutions inside one resolution I will have more success in accomplishing my goals. I figure in my struggle to avoid becoming a touchy, testy, tedious and temperamental terror, I will have to make some pretty major changes in my life.

By this time 2008, I will be a happy, healthy, helpful and hormonally-balanced 51 year old woman who doesn’t drink Dr. Pepper. I say that as I prepare to practice being predominantly positive, patient, peaceful and peppy in my goal to be pleasant!

Also, have an excellent week as the holiday season descends upon us in its furious frenzy and fury.

I recently spent a few days with my youngest grandson, Evan Robert Hembree. I tried really hard to be a good mother and did some laundry, a little cleaning and a lot of cooking, but being grandma was topmost in my mind.

After a traumatic entry into the world, every noise Evan makes seems pretty special and reassuring. His constantly changing expressions go from angelic to the pursed lips and frowning concentration of a fighter trained in the martial arts. His early displayed exuberance in dealing with all of the normal functions of the body brings a humorous relief to the hearts of those who had worried and prayed so hard for Evan in the first hours of his life.

Evan is our second baby born into our family this year. Marie was born March 8. I wondered how I would feel about another baby when I was already so tangled around a little girl's finger. I shouldn't even have wasted my time thinking in that direction. Not only are we capable of loving multiple children and grandchildren, our hearts have the flexibility to stretch and wrap and entangle each new baby in an individual hammock of that forever kind of love. It didn’t take long before Evan had me feeling the stretching and expanding of my heart as I fell completely in love with our newest little miracle.

When I look into the faces of my grandchildren, I remember staring in wonder at the faces of my babies as they familiarized themselves with the world. I will never forget the silent promises I made within my mind and my heart when I looked into my children's eyes.

As parents, we want our children to have more and better than we had ourselves. We work hard to buy those little expensive brand name tennis shoes that they will outgrow in two weeks. We want them to have the best in clothes, toys, education and experiences. We hurt when we see our children disappointed for whatever reason and renew our goal to give them the best.

Unfortunately, in our over-zealous method of parenting, we end up instilling an attitude in our children that lacks patience, tolerance or understanding. Our children become spoiled brats that won't settle for anything less than the best and we as parents are exasperated and wonder what went wrong.

The 1900s found each generation striving to make life better for their children than what they had. Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting better for our children, but there definitely needs to be a balance.

I look back on the years that our four were growing up. The mistakes we made as parents are sure a lot easier to see now than they were when we were making them. I remember nights of agonizing over ways to financially provide the extras for four children. It was impossible for us to afford much more than the day-to-day basic needs for our family of six.

If we had been financially capable, I would have been guilty of handing my children everything their little hearts desired. I would have excused the excess by using the philosophy of me wanting to give them more than what I had growing up.

Hindsight tells me that some of the best things we did for our children were the things that we did not do for them. I am so proud of all four of them and what they have achieved, but I think the things we could not give them contributed more to the way they are today than the things we were able to give them.

"What does not kill us will only make us stronger." Many individuals that have experienced very little adversity mixed into their life are weak, without depth of character or the strength to persevere when the going gets tough.

When we focus on giving our children more and better than what we had, we should be more concerned about building their strength to withstand life's chaos, their spiritual stability, their tolerance, patience, compassion and understanding, than what we can financially provide for them.

Although our children are financially capable of giving more material possessions to their children than what they had, I pray God gives them the wisdom to know when to give and when not to. I hope they find that balance that enables their children to grow healthy, strong and unspoiled. The job of spoiling belongs to us grandparents.

Don’t get me wrong, I want the best for my grandchildren. Just the thought of them being in pain or sad or without something they need brings on some pretty intense feelings. I want them to be good people and sometimes good doesn’t come easy.

For now, I am blessed with the cloud-splitting sunshine that nine month old Marie shares with those in her midst. I am challenged by the antics of Michael Ray as he struggles with fitting his school work around physical therapy three times a week. I’m excited about watching Evan’s personality develop and getting to know the newest member of our family. When talking with Marissa, I am always left in awe at her metamorphosis from child to young woman.

Generations will continue coming and going. It is this generation’s responsibility to make sure that the upcoming generation has the strength and character to be a better generation than the one before!

Also, have an excellent week!

On Christmas Eve in 1822, Moore composed a poem, A Visit from St. Nicholas, for his children. Being a dour, straitlaced academician, he refused to have the poem published despite its enthusiastic reception by everyone who read it. Despite his argument that the poem was beneath his dignity, the poem found its way into the mass media when a family member submitted it to an out-of-town newspaper. Although the poem became an overnight sensation, Moore would not acknowledge authorship of it until fifteen years later when he reluctantly included it in a volume of collected works. He referred to the poem as "a mere trifle", but the irony of this story is that Professor Clement Clarke Moore is now remembered for nothing else but this poem. We know the poem as Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Below is my version as I deal with my own personal struggles on how to handle the Christmas season.

Also, have an excellent week and holiday season!

There were no cries echoing through the room, only the hurrying scurrying medical professionals as they worked on his limp little body.

There was some serious praying going on by the occupants of that room. The atmosphere was thick with fear as we listened to the whooshing air and the quiet counts as they performed CPR. Strangling tentacles of fear wrapped tightly around our throats and tightened with each passing second we didn’t hear our baby cry. I will never forget the indescribable grief I felt during that short time before we heard his tiny gasping cries.

Both mama and baby encountered complications and were moved from the birthing clinic to the Wesley Hospital.

No longer than thirty minutes after Andrea was moved across the street to the hospital, friends entered the birthing clinic to see her and Evan and were told there was no patients admitted there by that name and no record of having had one.

Okay, a large city like Wichita has so much more to offer in the way of choices than a smaller town. You could eat out every meal at a different dining establishment and it would be a while before you would eat at the same place twice. You also have a multitude of options when it comes to movies and other entertainment. A large city is a shopper’s dream. If you need the newest and best medical procedures and equipment, the large city is where to be. If you crave anonymity, you will be happier in a city.

I grew up in a small town. Even though we have lived in Waco, Temple and close to Fort Worth, Texas, I feel much more comfortable in a town where most everything is within walking distance. I feel much more relaxed walking down the street than driving twenty miles an hour over speed limit just to keep up with the flow of traffic down Kellogg.

After several days in Wichita this past week, I also found I had some issues with volume. There were too many cars, people and streets. There was too much anxiety, stress and chaos. There were too many pregnant women wanting to deliver before Thanksgiving.

The Wesley Birthing Clinic had sixty women scheduled to be induced in the three days before Thanksgiving. This, of course, did not include the women that were doing their thing naturally.

When a woman is having a baby, she needs some individualized attention, not just a body on an assembly line. Maybe if there hadn’t been complications, things would have been different. The human body is not able to function in top form for extended hours without rest and it was evident that the doctors and staff were being pushed to their limits.

Andrea was fortunate to have a nurse named Sheryl for the majority of her labor and delivery and she was wonderful in every way.

Andrea and Evan are doing much better. Daddy Ryan is holding up quite well in his quest for naps between periods of practicing his diaper changing skills. The proud parents are home in Hutchinson with their new baby; excited about being together as a family and very thankful for their baby boy.

I’m glad to be back in Medicine Lodge where people look people in the eyes. Many people in the large cities seem to forget simple manners such as "please", "thank you" and "excuse me". I’m thankful to live in a town where the entire hand is usually used to wave at others and not just one finger.

Don’t get me wrong, I could make it in the city. After days of worry, lack of sleep, jumpy hormones and other irritants I won’t even go into, I found myself standing in the back of an extremely long line at a restaurant on Thanksgiving Day. A gentleman was so busy worrying about the door being open as more people squeezed into the restaurant; he failed to keep moving up in line. He started yelling at us in the back of the line to shut the door and yep, I yelled back!! This is a bit out of character for me and my kids got a little nervous concerning my actions. I was loud, kind of rude and it didn’t help that after closer scrutiny, the guy turned out to be a priest.

It was great to have Seth and Julia’s house to stay at when we weren’t at the hospital and they were fantastic hosts. I am grateful for those who worked on Evan and got him breathing. I appreciate all those who displayed the caring, compassionate attitude of a person whose job was more than just a paycheck. I am very thankful that Evan is alive and doing well. I am really sorry for yelling at the priest and I am ecstatic to be back in Medicine Lodge.

Also, have an excellent week!

My track record with the drug of my choice, caffeine, keeps me quite aware of my lack of self-control and self-discipline when it comes to addictions.

The drugs that really, really frighten me are prescription drugs. You go to the doctor with a problem, a prescription is given and you head for the pharmacy. You did go to the doctor seeking a solution to the problem you are experiencing so it would seem a little ludicrous not to take what was offered.

I was pretty stressed while Julia was deployed. I was worried about Julia and Julia was worried about me. She used the situation to manipulate me into actually showing up for my annual physical. After being poked, prodded and squeezed, the doctor sat down for a chat. She decided I would be better off on anti-depressants. I was feeling sad, depressed and a little crazy so I agreed. The doctor gave me a prescription and a sample to get me started. Before beginning the little pills, I read the pamphlet enclosed with the small bottle. Oh my goodness, there was not one thing I was going through or feeling that was as bad as the long list of serious and painful complications I might experience if I took those pills. I picked up the pamphlet, pills and packaging and promptly put them in the trash.

I was thinking about my close brush with anti-depressants while watching TV one evening. It seemed that nearly every commercial was about some prescription drug.

Sleep aids were offered for those long restless nights. In trade for that good night’s sleep, you risk fertility complications, memory problems, headaches, dizziness and daytime drowsiness. Other concerns connected to the bedtime buddy are changes in behavior and thinking which include agitation, hallucinations, worsening of depression and even suicidal thoughts.

You know all the commercials I’m talking about. They show a happy person smiling because the prescription pills helped them with their health problem. There is sunshine, music and flowers floating around the atmosphere. The commercial ends with a quickly delivered verbal warning on the risks of liver and heart damage and the possibility of a fatal stroke among the list of potential complications caused by the pill. You would then have to get another prescription to alleviate the conditions the first pill caused. Although legal, you could find yourself in as vicious of a cycle of presciption drugs as those addicted to illegal drugs.

There are all kinds of pills to help with "woman problems", but I would rather suffer through a million hot flashes than take a pill that may up my chance of having breast cancer. Although there are some around me that may disagree, I would rather be moody and grumpy than suffer the results of taking some of those helpful medications.

There are pills for "man problems." After a very romantic commercial, the warnings include complications that require a doctor’s attention should they last longer than four hours. I do not care what the situation may be; the results of prescription drugs can be very, very scary!

Am I against prescription drugs? Absolutely not! Among the zillions of drugs out there; many are life saving medicines.