Doodle “Thanks”


My precious pooch of fluffy white will go through surgery tomorrow morning to repair a torn meniscus and ACL in his left rear leg.  Yes, this doodle dog of mine seems to be living with “Chronic Conditions.”  Like me and others in my family.  This will be his third surgery on two of his four fuzzy legs within the last three years.  It will be followed by another eight weeks of rehab here at my home.  When I asked the vet if I had any other possible options, there was only one.  “You could put him down,” she said, adding “I don’t think you want to do that.”

Obviously the good doctor is right.  No, I do not want to put my Doodle dog “down” simply because he had an accident with his leg.  I am his mother in a way.  Several years ago, when this four pound cream puff climbed into my lap, up my arm and licked my face…he stole my heart along the way.  How can I put a price on that?  No way….

So tomorrow at 8 am, Doodles will be dropped off at a little building of red brick and burnished stone with windows of bright light.  There, he’ll silently sleep while the skill of a surgeon’s hands will repair his injured leg.

Doodles would like to thank everyone for their best wishes and prayers.  No more pain, no more surgeries….ever.  Please????

Cute Bichon Frise puppy sitting on grey background

Hush Little Babies


Hush little babies moving in my womb

Side by side swimming in separate pools of darkest blue

Slowly close your sweet slate eyes to feel gentle

Waves of warmth bathe scented oils….soothing over fragile paper skin

Gather calming strength with infant might for what may come to be

Too soon my loving angels, I will wait for you patiently

Yes, I’m your Mama, begging for you to grow

Listen to my tender heartbeat above you, near you, can you?

Quietly it whispers, loving you more than life itself

With help from God above, I’ll protect you ‘till the day I die

From dawn of morning light to the moon of dusk at night

Pregnant-Woman-Therese

Cheers to Fall!


Recently, my family made a day visiting a local “Pumpkin Patch,” strollers and diaper bags in hand.  There, a whole Fall Fairground surrounded us of sorts.  Acres full of hanging fruit trees, big red barns and rows of tall, curled cornstalks colored in cream greeted us everywhere our eyes could see.  Scents of mulled cider wafted through the air together with funnel cakes and caramel corn.   Frolicking fun for everyone!

Under trees of colored leaves, Mommies held sticky hands of toddlers munching on crunchy apples dribbling juice-so-sweet.  Daddies carried bouncing babies on backs of sweatshirts rooting for favorite baseball teams.  And, children in all sizes wearing denim chased an old shaggy dog among rolling acres of an aged family orchard farm.

Together, the five of us took turns cuddling three babes, ages five months to 2 years.  Sitting on splintered wooden boards, we watched infant piglets run races behind straw bales of golden hay.  Faster and faster their mini legs ran.  This little piggy went, “Wee, Wee, Wee.”   Round and Round….who would win?  Wait to see!  A prize for everyone under three!!

Next we went to feed scraggly goats, precious calves and wooly white lambs fenced off in wires of metal grey.  “Look my innocents, watch Grandma now,” I said, holding hands with palms so flat.  Before a flash, a crowd of hungry mouths with teeth so big and wide came to crash!  Nibbled from tentative palms holding crumbled kibble in toasty brown, tongues larger than life lapped faster than quarters could buy.

At the end of the day, grandbabies played in mounds of hay.  Snap!  Magic moments happened within the click of a thumb and forefinger.  Teeny feet jumped in scattered piles oh-so-soft and oh-so-tall.  Giggles from deep could be heard for miles around.  “Poof!”  High into the sky.  Bits and pieces flew everywhere, like confetti on New Year’s Eve!  Arms of pink reached up with itty-bitty hands.  High, higher still.  Floating down, straws of corn-yellow in slow motion.  One…two…three, right by me.

Leaves sparkled in whispering trees.  Golden yellow, burnt orange and sizzling red.  Crisp and curling at edges.  Some falling.  Sunshine warmed faces through breezes from beryl-blue skies above.  Toys were not needed here.  Sippy cups tipped in unison.  Life so good.  Cheers!!  Ahhhhh…..

 

 

 

Lovely Blog Award


As most of you know, I was on vacation last week.  No expectations for me.  Still, it was hard for my husband or friends to drag me away from my phone or laptop computer. They can all attest to that.  Even as everyone else was down the elevator three floors below, I was still punching keys in my tropical room so high above.

While checking my comment section on WordPress, imagine my surprise to discover this object of beauty?

one-lovely-blog-award

It arrived from a very kind man, and such a humbled honor it was to see.  Mr. David Prosser, http://barsetshirediaries.wordpress.com/, author, writer extraordinaire, blogger and lover of social media, bestowed this gift to me.  With nothing but nice things to say each and every day, he hails from Wales (my mother’s roots) and is the father to a daughter he so lovingly adores.

Thank you so very much, David.

As far as I know there are no specific “Rules” of acceptance for this “One Lovely Blog Award.”  Am I to nominate others?  I am not sure, yet a few are listed below.  This is always the most difficult part for me.  I could go on and on and on with writers whose words are so appreciated and admired.

I did notice that David listed a few interesting facts about himself upon acceptance of the above award, and so I shall list something too.  Long ago I shared my difficulty in suffering from paralyzed vocal cords.  I wrote of them in several of my posts. http://wp.me/s41md8-croaked , http://wp.me/s41md8-sounds, and http://wp.me/s41md8-teamwork .  Finally, after nearly 16 months I am completely healed.  The doctor’s hands have done their magic and I have done my work.  My throat no longer hurts, the cough is gone and I’ve completed all of my dreaded vocal therapy.  I can even eat again!  Hip-hip-hooray!  :)

The following blogs are nominated for the “One Lovely Blog Award.”

http://bobby-c-blog.com/

http://lorriebowden.com/

http://aussieemu.wordpress.com/

http://childrensbooksheal.com/

http://laurie27wsmith.wordpress.com/

http://eilynash.com/

http://witlessdatingafterfifty.wordpress.com/

Prayers for “Doodle” Dog


Upon returning from vacation last Saturday evening, I learned of my beloved “Doodle” dog’s injury. Opening the door to plop overstuffed bags down on my entry tile floor, a familiar howl of excitement greeted me.  There he was!  A fluffy white head cocked to the side as if to say, “Where have you been?  “Why did you leave me?”

Doodles did not jump upon my leg in order to be petted or picked-up as expected …a telltale sign.  Instead, dark eyes stared wide and open, misty even…pleading in puppy-dog communication.  His nose, normally jet black and moist to the touch appeared coca-brown, uneven in color.  Bending down for a kiss, it felt warm and slightly rough upon my lips gentle brush.  A few seconds later, Doodles limped away from me.

It was midnight, what could I do?  Doodles lay upon my bed the whole night through.  A few hours later, the first appointment available was made at the vet for 10:00 pm.  There was nothing to be done except to make him as comfortable as possible and wait.  Sunday near midnight, I learned of the extent of Doodles injury.  In fairness to our pet sitter, she texted me earlier in the week to let me know that he had been running when suddenly he stopped with a short yelp.  Afterwards, he started limping.  It wasn’t her fault and she certainly didn’t know how serious it was.  Accidents happen.

My dog-baby has completely torn most of the ligaments in his left-rear leg and blown his ACL.  I’d like to believe otherwise, but most likely he will need surgery.  An appointment is made to see a specialist and surgeon early next week.  Until then, he’s on medication, sleeping on a fuzzy fleece bed to the side of my half-moon desk.

Normally, I take this kind of news in stride except Doodles has already had two surgeries on a different leg at two different times for the same reason.  Two surgeries, two months of rehab (each), lots of $$$$ with a tremendous risk, a lot of pain, and no guarantees…ever.  I’m used to living with “Chronic Conditions,” but my “Doodle” dog?  Ironic it is and yet….not so much.   So, here I go again, what to do?

Doodles is a member of my family.  He rises with me in the dawn of morn to sit beneath my desk until the dusk of night.  He follows behind me trotting to the coffee pot, not caring if my bathrobe is scraggly or that my hair isn’t combed.  He cherishes a ride in my convertible and loves to feel wind whisper fluffy white fur atop his cotton candy head. Glancing at him in side view mirrors, a smile spreads across my face to see such euphoria.  Each passing car toots a horn at the sight of such pooch delight!

During each and every day, Doodles sits upon my lap to watch fingers tap letters from black keys, cocking his head in wonder as they move up and down.  Sometimes a fresh groomed paw will push them away, stopping the flow.  When it does, I scoop him up.

With a furry body of four long legs together with tender paws, we seek an adventure in the out of doors.  Together, we breathe fresh air deep into our lungs while feeling the warmth of the sun.  He stops to sniff hidden scents under dark green shrubbery along chipped sidewalk paths of poured cement while walking on a leash, frayed and painted in our team of “Cardinal” red.  Happy, he is.

That’s all I want for my “Doodle” dog.  Happiness…and to live and walk again without an ounce of pain.

 

 

Heaven on Earth


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While on holiday or vacation, how do you choose what sights to see?  Reading through bundles of accordion-folded brochures, my fingers brush over glossy pictures of scenic images.  Where should I go?  What do you recommend?  So much to see…so little time. 

The drive is only a short distance from the villa my husband and I share with good friends.  Stopping to speak to the Gatekeeper, a nice middle-aged man wearing a copper cap atop his balding head, we’re directed toward the “Cougar” lot.  “There it is,” I exclaim! An outline in bright green tells me so with a paw of claws to the left.  Crunching sounds are heard beneath the weight of our mini-van from stones of crushed quartz together with variegated granite.

No sight of a genuine “Cougar.”  It’s safe to jump out!  Skipping to climb stairs and steps in sets of three or four, suddenly it’s time to rest.  Whew…hard to breathe for me.  The air is different here.

Crisp and clean, but thinner.  One-two-three, short breaths for me.  A voice booms loud over an unseen speaker, startling me. “Departure!”  It’s time to catch a free ride on the aerial tramway.  Soon we’ll be pulled all the way up to the tip of majestic mountain before me.  I see it standing stately in the background sky of royal blue.

Along the way my eyes of wide glance side to side and all around looking out a glass balloon floating on wires of two.  My mouth drops open, agape in awe.  Yes, I do realize what I’m looking at, yet my mind is having trouble catching up.  I’m spinning together with the mountain top around me.  Up-up-up we go all the way to the top of God’s wilderness where we stop at 8,500 feet.

Heaven on Earth….

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“Praying Hands”

Copyright Kim Gosselin

 

Off Tips of Shiny Silver Wings


Off on vacation, I am.  Sounds of humming engines vibrate below covered feet.  Whooshing air blows cool and quietly past ears to the left and to my right.   Unaware, those around me sleep fitfully with eyes partially closed. Irises of blue, green or brown, some speckled with golden flecks peek from bodies twisting this way or that in an effort to get comfortable in nearly impossible positions.   Hmmm…I’m looking at rows and rows of ‘pretzels’ poured from cellophane bags.  Twisted arms, legs, and feet sticking every which way, their cushions nearly too small to hold them all.

Here I am, sitting huddled in an assigned seating space near the bubble of a plastic window shade.  Raising it with the left of my hand, morning light floods the cabin with a brilliance never quite seen before.  Shades of golden yellow, coral, orange, and cotton white nearly blind me with the beauty of a magnificent sunrise painted against billowing clouds of smoky blue.

How sad for the salted “pretzels” around me who shall miss this magic in the sky!  I want to shake them, wake them from their slumber.  Suddenly from the Flight Attendant’s microphone an announcement is made.  “Hurry, look to the East.  Wonderment is awaiting you.” Ahhh, my imagination is playing tricks on me once again….

Then, I stop to sigh.  Perhaps this “Here and Now” moment is for me alone to embrace, to tuck within my heart or to lock away in a trunk of forever memories?  Yes, my bubble window space has been a quiet blessing during this unexpected dawn of spectacular seconds for this day to stow away.

Sparkling rays of brilliant sun point towards Heaven off tips of shiny silver wings.  Look beyond to see and hear what angels do……

 

 

Believe


Nothing is impossible no matter how difficult the task.  Close long lashes to rest weary lids.  Dream of magical wishes waiting for you to believe in them.  Whisper quietly over and over and over again.  Hold tight, don’t ever let go.   Believe…….shhh.   What was that? Louder now.   Believe!

Kim Gosselin

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Moon Beam


A lighthouse beacon amid stormy seas of wavy darkness

Massive, round all aglow shining brighter than ever before

Colored amid shaded charcoal pencils

Sugar clouds spun of spindly spider webs

Creamy colored fingers drift over yellow-red

Sooo slowly it seems to take forevermore

Hurry, my anticipation grows with fascination

Wanting to behold this rare phenomenon

There it is, peeking now from behind

Whispering, waving amid limbs of leafless forest trees

Silence all around yet again it appears

Not long to await such a magnificent sight

Open eyes in awe gazing large and wide

Wanting to capture this moon beam of beauty

If only to share for seconds or maybe even minutes

With all the world to see.  How lucky that would be for me…

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A Pinch of Salt


Late last week I received a call from my oldest son with worried words no grandparent ever wants to hear.  “She’s sick, Mom.”  My sweet, innocent grand-daughter was on her way to Children’s Hospital together with her dear mommy.  Soon to be admitted with a tender tummy and a possible infection.  I took a breath to calm my nerves, offering support to my son and his wife.  Such a helpless feeling in my head.

The next morning my husband and I were off to the hospital.  I was struck by the guard who stopped us at the front desk.  “Who are you,” he asked in an accusatory tone?  “Grandparents,” we responded in unison.  There, ‘mug shots’ were taken for a pale blue badge that was stuck to the front of our jackets.  I looked down at mine.  Directly below my picture it read, “Grandparent,” making me feel important on that day….in some small way.

A nice lady with hair of gentle white directed us to the elevators at the end of the hall.  Pressing the red button we waited until the door opened when a flood of young parents trampled out.  I noticed one in particular.  With her left hand she covered her mouth, while wiping tears from her eyes of brown with her right.   I looked down.

The emotion was almost palpable once inside the elevator.  It lingered, surrounding the tiny silver space where a button board of colored numbers lit up for me to choose.  Up, up, up, we rode to the floor where our little grand-daughter waited to see us.

There she sat with her loving Mommy, happily on a small sofa near a picture window filled with sunshine.  Smiles filled the room while she played with ‘new babies,’ magical ponies and read books that afternoon.  Daddy joined us for “really good” mac-n-cheese, plus three or four or five brightly colored “M & M’s”as special treats to eat.

Thankfully, our grand-daughter was pronounced perfectly healthy!   After a couple of days she went home with Mommy and Daddy where her baby brother and “Nimby” dog eagerly awaited her arrival.  Such happy news to hear!

Still, I think of the young mother who rushed off the elevator that first day.  The one whose eyes of teary brown held a recipe of heartache.

 Bread of Chronic Conditions: Two tablespoons of pain, 1 teaspoon of agony, a dash of shock with a pinch of denial.  Mix thoroughly together with tears in a bowl large enough to hold a soul.  Form into a lifetime loaf.  Bake at 350 loving degrees until strength and courage being to form.  Lives begin to raise as acceptance takes shape.  Gradually a ‘Momma’ becomes more at peace. When center springs forth to gentle finger-touch, remove loaf from oven to rest upon a warm kitchen counter rack.  The mother is no longer afraid to believe in happiness.  Her child’s innocence together with dreams and wishes become the very most important thing on earth.  Together, mother with child believe that anything is possible, wishing upon stars to make future dreams come true.  Before long they truly do.

*This recipe is ‘American Tested’  in kitchens by mothers everywhere. 

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