Our Economy is Forcing Me to Grow Vegetables.

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I went shopping the other day and was shocked at how the prices keep rising. A loaf of bread was nearly $4. Four bucks for processed flour that we shouldn’t be eating anyway. As I wandered down the aisles looking for somewhat healthy foods that wouldn’t raise my cholesterol or knock me out with a sugar crash, I determined that I need to start growing my own vegetables. Heck you ‘they’ say you can juice anything and at least I’d know it was really organic. But how do I start?  INTERNET!!!!!

At my age, the last thing I want to do is till up my Texas gumbo or build a fence to protect everything from the dog and 6 cats. Yes…I have 6 cats and 3 spend their days and nights wandering through the yard. Anyway,  I decided on container and vertical gardening, which led me to think about planting containers.  How much depth does a carrot need to grow? What about potatoes…yum…home grown potatoes. How fabulous.

If you lived in my head I bet you can guess what happened next.  Bugs. I’ll need a bat house to eat flying bugs, a net to keep the birds off, bees to pollinate. Can I start a beehive too?  hmmmmm.

Back to containers.

container-vegetable-garden1-400x266Check out what I found. A picture using storage tubs and 5 gallon buckets from your favorite home improvement center! I love the orange ones and I could paint the white ones to look like a rainbow.  How beautiful. How simple.  So off I go to gather my old tubs and buy some new buckets.  You know, I think some old metal pails would look cute for herbs too. Oh and carrots need 6-10″ of dirt.

I hope to share some more pictures about my garden, and I promise, if I try the bee thing I’ll share that as well.

What do you really want to know about breast cancer reconstruction?

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Image courtesy of Huffington Post

Breast Cancer is scary at best and my heart goes out to the millions of women who are faced with this diagnosis. But when it comes to finding answers about options, the patient is often reliant upon the doctors for guidance.  Sure there are some amazing sites that have a ton of information but when I started searching for reconstruction options and recovery, not so much.

I have been asked to help develop a website and blog that focuses on Breast Reconstruction. It’s all about educating men and women on the options, risks, rights, and more in regards to reconstruction.

So I’m asking those men or women out there if they would be willing to share what questions  you have or had about reconstruction after a lumpectomy or full mastectomy? If you are a survivor and have gone through reconstruction, what questions do you wish you had asked?

Do You Know Their Story?

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Every day I walk past the photo of mom standing in the ocean. Maybe circa 1950’s early 60’s. Hard to tell exceptJoy at Beach for the bathing suit. Every day I notice the gasped expression and the beautiful red hair. Surely that water was cold and I think it surprised her at the same time.

Mom died a couple of years ago and today as I looked at the picture I realized I didn’t know her beyond being my mom. Who was she with that day at the beach? Was it my dad that took the picture?  At 20 something she was a beauty. I wondered what she did in high school. Sing? Act? Did she go to a prom or help decorate for it, or was she bullied like so many kids are today?

I remember one story. Not sure it was true, but she told me she smoked pot once. Said it made her sick and very sleepy. As her daughter I never asked who she was with, why she tried it or how did she even know where to buy it. After all, mom was from a farm town in Kansas and born in the 30’s. Dust bowl they called it.

When I was 35, I was on top of the world. Everything was fun, I dated, danced, drank too much, and sailed on a private yacht with some “oil” guys. Did mom do these things too?

As children, we look at our parents as if they have only one life–to take care of us.  Sex, drugs, and rock n roll were not part of their package. Or were they? Now that she’s gone I will never know the story of Joy. I will never know her favorite food, how she learned to drive a car, was she afraid to have intercourse. I will never know the feelings she had when dad gambled all the money away, or what she experienced while she was in the Air Force.

I know my mom, like yours, was great. Sure she beat the hell out of me once or twice, but I loved her. I wish I knew her better though.

Take time to talk to your parents like you talk to your friends. Go through the photos and ask about the story. Share them, write them down. Some day they may not remember, but you will.  You are the keeper of your own story as well as theirs.

And if my daughter is reading this; stop long enough to know that I have a story. Ask me.