Back From The Brink

           Every year or two I do the same thing, knowing full well it isn't going to end well for me.

(pun intended)

I work hard and I play hard.

I always have.

We finally moved into our forever home  here in Orlando about nine months ago.

I simply love it.

It screams 'Me'

I hit the ground(s) running and haven't stopped. I do all the yard work and wouldn't have it any other way. I appreciate the offer of help but am so meticulous when it comes to yard work, I get on their nerves.

Even more....

If you can believe that!!

I always dress to work in the yard just like I am dressed in the first picture of me above, in the lime green top and blue shorts.

Trust me, I also had on flip flops.

I don't mind working in the heat, but I gotta be as comfy and cool as possible...I still suffer from hot flashes.

I don't wear gloves, I just rip the weeds out or toss away the clippings by hand to be raked up later.

I've tried wearing work boots, hats and gardening gloves.

It's a miserably hot outfit to me.

I already wear one of those when I'm on the clock at work.

I want to be comfy at home.

Call me crazy, you won't be the first... or last.

It has been raining like crazy and my yards are blooming and booming like they're on herbal growth hormone.

I usually work four days a week, sometimes five.

On my three days off, I spend two of them doing the front back and both side yards.

On the days I work

I go to work around ten AM, get home around four.

I putz around in the house, feed and water the dogs and head straight out to our wonderful screened in  porch, or as they call it here, lanai.

(still not used to that word)

It has a pergola off the porch, and is an awesome place to chill as well.

How can you not  have a cocktail or two after a hard days' work?

I sit out there and write friends and family or blog on my iPad until eleven or so. Then I go to bed, get up...shower, rinse and repeat.

It's the yard days that got me.

I started feeling puny last Thursday after getting home from work and by Saturday after work felt pretty much like do-do.

By Sunday morning I knew I wasn't getting out of bed any time soon. Thank goodness I was off until Wednesday.

I'd be fine and dandy by then!

Then like an idiot, while scrolling through my phone while resting in bed, I see a Monday lunch shift up for grabs on our employee site.

My daughter told me to  not pick the shift up and stay in bed.

But an opening shift?!  I'd go in at ten thirty, be cut by one and back home in bed before two.

I took it!

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I felt like the dude in a black shroud with a sickle was close by, just waiting for me to try and get out of bed.

I got up and went in anyway...Mondays were always slow.

When am I going to learn?

I got to work, the bartender wasn't there yet, and our manager was setting the bar up. The first table walked in right before we opened. I had five tables going before the next server got there at 11:15. Then a ten top walked in. Then a six top. Then another six top. Then lucky for us, just a five top.

Oops, then another five top followed by two tables of four.

It was insanity and the insanity didn't stop until well after three o'clock. I was sweating like Trump at the Apollo Theatre in Harlem.

My sinuses were killing me, I had a fever, It sounded like a blender was going off in my chest when I inhaled and exhaled and my both ears were stopped up. My equilibrium was off and so was my timing.

I was a wreck but plowed ahead.

I apologized a lot and tried to stand as far away from the tables as possible so they couldn't see when the (luckily) clear snot began to trickle out of my nostrils.

I knew I wasn't contagious but really didn't think I should even bring up the fact that I didn't feel well.

I felt like collapsing.

But I didn't.

When my manager finally told me I was cut, I told them if they needed me I'd be on the floor in the dish pit.

(trust me, it's not a place to lay down)

Guess what time I clocked out from my little  Monday opening shift?

5:35 PM.

You usually sell around $300 on a Monday opening shift. 

I sold almost $1100.00 and by the Grace of God made almost $250.00 in tips.

I fell into bed around six on Monday night and didn't get out of it until Wednesday morning.

Massey brought me home day time and night time medicine when she got home from work and I gobbled it up. I've been taking it every four hours since then.

Tim let me vegetate and slept in the spare bedroom Monday and Tuesday.

Ziggy went with him...

that's how bad I looked, felt and sounded.

We had a bad storm blow across the lake on Tuesday morning, knocking out the cable, Internet and Wifi before noon.  I just stayed in bed, slept and stared at the wall while I was awake, then flipped and stared at the other wall after I woke up again.

The cable, Wifi and Internet stayed off until Wednesday evening.

It was kinda nice being so quiet inside the house that I could hear the crickets and frogs outside the house.

I went into work today feeling a little shaky but 99.9% better.

I'm not sure why I refuse to take better care of myself, but think I'm finally catching on at the tender age of almost sixty.

I got on the scale this morning after getting out of the shower and found that I'm back down to a ninety eight pound weakling.

I'll be back to  triple digits in no time!

You learn from mistakes. You'd better, especially at my age.

I took a licking but that clock's still ticking.

I wanna enjoy the home stretch as long as I can.

Everyone was so nice to me while I was feeling poorly. My family was, my neighbors were and all checked in to see if I needed anything. My managers and coworkers were super supportive as I bumbled my way through that horrifically long (controlled chaos of a) lunch shift.

Even when I'm sick, I'm blessed!

Till next time...COTTON

#BoutKiltMe #WoreSlapOut #WeeDoggies

I'm not complaining.

I wanted this house and all of  Mother Nature surrounding it, which is what made it every thing I've ever wanted in a place to call home. 

But those leaves?

Number one: its been over three years since I've done any serious yard work.

Number two: that makes me almost fifty nine years old now.

 I did manage to get the firepit looking pretty good.

Overgrown fire pit before...

 And after...

I blew the leaves into about three different piles,

 no probs!

Bagging twenty bags of leaves from a standing position is a whole different story.

#BeenThereDoneThat(now)

I felt (a little) better when my twenty three year old daughter got kinda flushed too, when helping me bag one afternoon.

I have a pretty physically demanding job (if done correctly) and have been doing it almost spot on for forty years now.

But those leaves, that rake, the constant bending over from the waist, then standing right back up, over and over and over again?

But you know what?

 So what?

I used to wear a rake out, but unfortunately now a rake wears me out.

 If that's the worst thing to happen to me,

I got off easy.

#Blessed

 I will have to say, this whole yard raking adventure has totally reminded me of one of my better stories, from about two decades ago.

We were all at the beach one July. My family, our brother, our Diddy, my sister and her family.

All the kids (way) pre teen were doing  cartwheels on the beach one afternoon when I commented,"You think that's a cartwheel?"

They asked if I could still do a cartwheel?

I said "Sure I can. I can even do a round off !"

#Notagoodideawhenalmostfortyanddrinking

Of course I rocked out a couple of cartwheels and even (barely) managed a round off.

It was easy to do, us adults liked doing some drankin' on the beach!

The next morning I came downstairs for breakfast in the kitchen, limping like a cripple and said,

to no one in particular...

"Was last night our wedding anniversay or was I doing cartwheels on the beach yesterday?"

Not a one of the youngins' (six of 'em) thought any thing about my comment...until my Diddy said "Kelly, stop it!"

Me and my sister have laughed about it for years.

You can worry yourself sick about life or about your problems, or about things you can't change.

Or you can strive to make every single day one to smile about.

No matter what.

Someone else always has it harder than you do.

Learn to enjoy your own good fortune,

and always pay it forward.

Karma is real.

I may be getting older, but it certainly beats the alternative.

Til Next time...COTTON

The Checkout Line

When my Diddy died from West Nile virus in 2002, it was a hard pill to swallow. Granted he got to take the Leach Express Checkout. Went from perfectly healthy to being taken off life support in less than two weeks.

Once admitted to the hospital, started his "Ten Day Trip Down The Nile."

No  rehab, nursing home or hospice for this one. Whenever we'd (the three Sib's) call him "Old Man" his response was always "That's MISTER Old Man, to you."

As much as I miss him, I'm so very glad his journey was through the express checkout...just like our momma's.

She made it through the express checkout in one minute flat. That was a harder pill to swallow, especially at the age of seventeen but in hindsight am grateful she did.

I also call it the Great Escape. For some reason our family has been blessed with it. When it first happened in 1977, thought of it as a curse and spent decades beating myself up over all the "what ifs."

At the age of (almost) fifty seven, realize how lucky I've really been. So what I had to move away from my sister and leave the best job I'd ever had, raking in money hand over fist.

That job helped us to get where we are now. Tim had a more than a two year struggle to even find a job but now has a fantastic one, albeit four hundred miles from what I call home.

When our Diddy died, had been 'keeping company' (his term) with a sweet woman around his own age for more than a few years. She was sharp as a tack, went back to school in her sixties after raising three boys alone after her husband died at an early age to get her college degree and was the epitome of a southern woman. She lived right around the corner from him in East Point (our childhood hometown).

She owned 25 acres on a mountain in Blue Ridge, Georgia and she and my Diddy spent a lot of time there together, working on a little shack in the middle of God's country.

She spent those 'Ten Days Down The Nile' with us, me and my two Sibs. She was heartbroken when he died...just like us.

She did okay and we all remained close. She bopped along in life well into her late eighties, then hit a bump in the road. After going to the gym and working out started to feel pain in her legs. It escalated in twenty four months and wasn't a pleasant journey. First moving to assisted living (okay place but I'd kill myself...just sayin) then after a while couldn't even get out of her recliner so just slept there. It was a really nice recliner one of her sons bought for her, the  kind which tilts forward to help you stand up. The problem was now she couldn't even do that.

So she was basically sitting in a chair waiting to die. I wanted her wait to be over. I think deep down she did too.

Then she was hospitalized for too many reasons to go into, and it all kind of went downhill from there...not that she was on top of a mountain to begin with.

Through all of this and much more, she still kept a brave face on and accepted each new complication with more strength than I could...at my age of fifty seven.

Then as if she hadn't been through enough, this past week suffered a major stroke.

As horrible as all this sounds (and is) was made even worse by the fact that she was still as sharp and mentally alert and unfortunately knew what was happening to her.

She was still a smart and intelligent woman... trapped in a body so badly broken and worn that without a miracle, wasn't going to get better but increasingly worse.

That just blows.

BIG time.

bitch, please...
  That was the only way to put it.


My sister and I prayed for God to take her sooner than later because in our book it was way overdue.


This wonderful woman didn't deserve this kind of life and simply couldn't understand why she was being put through such torture.


I was in the kitchen this afternoon cooking dinner for a co worker of mine and her family. Her mom has debilitating MS and dad is battling back from cancer. I had my Bose speaker cranked up with my new favorite radio station streaming from Cocoa... 98.5 The Beach. It's through my phone so when I get a text or call it notifies me with a ping.

At 5:09 my phone pinged. I looked at my cell and saw this message from my sister:

"Elizabeth is all well!!!"

I sent back:

"With our Mama and Diddy?"

She replied:

"Yes. Hallelujah!"

It's over.

And not soon enough.

She is whole again...smiling and can jump up, dance and sing!

And I'm dancing a jig here on earth for her as well.

Thank you, Elizabeth for coming into our lives. Thank you for making my Diddy happy. He loved working on that little cabin in Blue Ridge with you...and he loved you too.

My kids have fond memories of days spent there as well.

Before meeting you, my kids never knew you could drink water from a creek and it be more pure than what they got out of the tap at home.

Life is a journey, trust me I know...but never had to endure what sweet Elizabeth went through this past year.

I bet she's working the Front Gate up there right about now...after all she's been through, and should be. I hope they had her shade lipstick, she always put her lips on.

My own three kids were given their marching orders years ago. When things get bad for me or make things bad for them.


"Do it."

Just bring your dads' (seemingly) ten pound TempurPedic pillow and hold it over my face till my feet quit kicking.


Today makes me realize how extremely lucky I am, even with the ten year debacle we've been through.

Rejoicing for Elizabeth's release and continuing my journey on this long and winding road of life.

Till next time...COTTON

Really... A Friday The Thirteenth?

Zach took Ziggy out yesterday morning at seven thirty before he went to work. With Zach standing out there with him our little Houdinin saw something move in the woods behind the almost six foot fence and was over it in a New York  minute and off to the races.

I told Zach to go ahead to work and I'd go look for the idiot.

Here's MY thing. This dog has a great life here. He always has food and perhaps maybe sometimes slimy water until I notice and change it but is living large by dog standards. He's welcome to any piece of furniture he chooses to plop down on and gets plenty of love.

Damn,  hope I come back as a dog in my next life!

After four hours of searching began to think ole Ziggy was really Dog Gone for good. I called the Pound, he wasn't there so walked all the busy side streets off our subdivision to make sure he hadn't been hit by a car.

I called Massey at school to tell her of his latest escape and within ten minutes got a text from her that she found him and was talking with the lady now who had him.

I started to tell Massey to ask the woman if we threw in twenty bucks would she keep him?

Then I saw his face on FB where they found him at the elementary school right around the corner from us.

Maybe he was trying to learn to be a smarter dog. Can't blame a pup for trying.

I called the woman and embarrassingly enough had to ask if she could bring Ziggy back home? I didn't have a car at the moment...or at all for that matter but she brought the little rascal back about fifteen minutes later and was  actually happy to see our little bad boy.

Who'd think you'd find your dog on FB? Massey did and after just a few minutes of posting about his disappearance found this picture of him. Thanks to social networking we once again have three big dogs. Maybe we need to learn to be smarter!


I'm letting another one of the Lost Boys stay here on and off for a couple of days. We have plenty of room now and are handy to have around a house in much need of repair. He stayed here when I had to leave for work early so some dude could come pick up Tim's old non working car we sold on Craigslist. We got enough money to buy Tim a laptop for his new job and lots of groceries. Beats the heck out of it sitting in our driveway reminding us what terrible luck we have with cars every time we leave the house.

I got home from work later that night and found out he made the transaction, left the money for me and borrowed the bicycle in the garage to ride to work. Probably didn't help much that it had a really low tire and he couldn't find the pump but he said it went pretty quickly after he finally made it to Ace hardware three miles up the road where they gave the tires some juice. Bless his heart took him over an hour to peddle six miles but told me he was just happy to have a ride. By the time my dude came to buy the car he'd missed his ride to work. That's a nice Lost Boy.

Today I finally joined the credit union the rest of my family did a few years ago. Dang, the woman  tried to get me to apply for a loan on the spot. I declined but will keep that thought in my back pocket. Tim flies home tomorrow night from Texas to pack up and drive back in the only vehicle we have running.

I may go back and take her up on the offer.

So today is Tim's birthday. I'm pretty sure I don't sound as loud and look a lot better a thousand miles away.

Awesome present I gave him if you ask me!

So our crazy life continues to be crazy.

I'm beginning to see a theme here...or at least resemble it.

I aspire to resemble this, and will.

It may not get better every day but every day gives you a better chance at getting there.

Til next time...COTTON