HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AMERICA!

America, land that I love.  Since I was a small child I've been curious about other countries and through the years I've found a great deal to love and admire about most countries, yet deep inside of me I've thrilled to know that I am an American. What it means to be an American is difficult to put into words because it is a concept only understood by my heart. On this, our nation's birthday, I'll try to express a few of the things my country means to me. 

Freedom comes first to my mind.  To be able to worship as I choose, to get an education and to continue to learn in any field I choose, to develop my own interests and talents, to work and set my own goals, to live where I choose, and to share my life with the people with whom I most wish to be, are some of the aspects of freedom that matter to me.   

I love this land; the mountains, the streams, the fields and meadows, the deserts, the small towns, and the cities. There's a rich diversity of land and land uses across this country and I love the variety.  There's a feeling of pride in knowing America is the home of many natural resources such as rich soil, water, timber, coal, oil, most minerals and gems, rain, wind, and sun. 

The history of this nation brings a swell of pride for the heroes who sacrificed to make and keep this a free nation. It is a melting pot of immigrants from all over the world who have given much to form a nation where race and old world biases are softened, blended, and done away with to form a new people, Americans. 

We have our share of traitors, weaknesses, and attempts to dominate others.  Unfortunately that seems to be part of being human.  Lately our country has been plagued by divisiveness as many have moved away from the strengths of our constitution and from God.  Unless we turn back to those values that made this a choice land, we stand to lose our most valued rights and freedoms. 

Over the many years I have celebrated America's birth I've stored a treasure trove of memories.  Some of my earliest celebration memories include watching my brothers and taking a turn cranking an ice cream freezer, sparklers whipping through the night sky, church bells, fireworks, picnics with Mama's potato salad, a watermelon snugged into a secure hole in an icy creek, marching in parades, then watching my children march with their school bands, foot races, rodeos, and breakfast on the back deck. And always the stars and stripes have flown proudly at our house, led the parades, and adorned our neighborhoods. 

If I were blowing out the candles on America's birthday cake, my wish would be that our nation would continue for many more years to be a Godly nation filled with freedom, respect for one another, peace, and prosperity.  Happy Birthday America!

Summer Book Trek

There's a Summer Book Trek again this summer sponsored by New LDS Fiction.  One of the requirements to join and be eligible for some great prizes is to publish a list of the books participants plan to read this summer.  Here's my list, which will be added to as new books arrive:

Family Size by Maria Hoagland
Through Cloud and Sunshine by Dean Hughes
Glimmer of Hope by Sarah M. Eden
Longing for Home by Sarah M. Eden
In the Shadow of an Angel by Lynn Larson
Belonging to Heaven by Gale Sears
Blackmoore by Julianne Donaldson
Swept up by the Sea by Tracy and Laura Hickman

Thoughts on Marriage

Yesterday morning the Supreme Court made decisions on two bills focusing on gay marriage with reckless disregard for the will of the people and thousands of years of precedent. The term gay marriage is an oxymoron, since the relationship between two people of the same gender will never be a marriage in the true sense no matter what it is called.  Marriage is a relationship ordained by God and has little to do with the legal definitions set out by people.  It's those man-made laws and definitions that need to be examined and in many cases corrected.  When two adults, not related by blood and whether or not there is a sexual relationship between them, live together for an extended period of time, share living expenses and provide moral support to each other, they should be entitled to certain rights if both parties so desire.  In my opinion if they're in an openly committed relationship they should be entitled to the same inheritance or survivorship rights as heterosexual couples, just don't call their arrangements  marriages. 

Society and government's interest in marriage has historically been based on protecting name and inheritance through the legitimacy of offspring and providing for the support of a dependant wife.  During periods when wives generally didn't collect pay checks or have the same educational benefits as their husbands, laws were enacted to protect them when they became widows with no means of support.  Divorce laws were written to recognize the years a woman spent raising her children and running her husband's home.  Society has changed and not many women aren't eligible for their own Social Security or inheritance benefits now and most can or do receive paychecks for their employment.  Perhaps it's time to re-examine laws concerning spousal dependency rather than change marriage.  

The worse bullies I've ever had the misfortune to have to work with were gay.  Yet one of the most competent and capable editors it has been my pleasure to work with was also gay. Several people I care deeply about profess to be gay and live a lifestyle that appears empty and shallow to me, but I see plenty of heterosexuals throw their lives away on meaningless pursuits as well. Competence, talent, and intelligence are not restricted to or absent from either homosexuals or heterosexuals. 

I've felt great compassion for two different young boys whose lives were made a sad circus by overbearing lesbian mothers more interested in forcing a political statement than the welfare of their children.  Two women I know who made big productions of coming out a few years ago, claiming to be lesbians, made me chuckle.  A year after their big announcement one married a man and was pregnant at her wedding. She now has nothing to do with her former partner.  The other one ended the long term relationship with another woman she was in, but remained long distance friends with her partner, who moved to another city.  A few years later she married a man who had been a friend for several years.  Gay couples don't hold a monopoly on arrested development or a lack of parenting skills. We all know heterosexual individuals who are immature, selfish, and poor parents.   

Most of what we hear from either the gay lobby or from the general public, psychologists included, is just hype meant to sway opinion one way or the other and is based on few facts.  There is no gay gene, some homosexuals can change if they want to, a rare few people are born with dual genitals (I knew a seven-year-old child with this problem years ago and I'm convinced no one deserves the hurt and embarrassment she went through before her parents agreed to surgery to remove the unneeded equipment.), there's no positive proof whether homosexuals are born, made, or choose to be gay (I suspect all three), but what we do know is that all people are God's children and as such should be treated with respect.  I'm tired of the accusations that anyone who doesn't support gay marriage is a bigot who hates gays.  Not so.  Most people I know, including me, have friends, co-workers, and family members who are gay and we certainly believe they have a right to careers, to buy homes, to rent apartments, and to patronize the same stores anyone else does. We love them and sympathize with their desire for acceptance. I also believe they are entitled to the same legal and financial benefits as anyone else. Rather than hate them, most people are more prone to pity them. 

Where we differ is in our willingness to set aside God's commandments concerning marriage, chastity, and establishing a stable environment for bearing and raising children.  Marriage isn't a right; it's a privilege, one granted by our Creator with strings attached.  Families in our society are under enough pressure today and face increasing problems.  Liberalizing and devaluing the marital relationship does no one any good. We should be working on stabilizing and supporting families, strengthening individuals, and becoming more obedient to God instead of promoting social divisions, undermining families, and creating judicial chaos.

Recommendations and a Review

I spend a lot of time reading and not every book I read works out for my review column.  I don't review YA but if anyone is looking for a really good book featuring teens but with a lot of appeal for adults, try Lair of the Serpent by T. Lynn Adams.  If you like books that make you laugh and say "been there, done that" take a look at Fatherhood the Manliest Profession by Matthew Buckley.  I wanted to review this one before Father's Day, but since portions are from an earlier book and I already had a review written for that week, so I didn't do it.  I still loved the book.  One more book that caught my fancy, but has no LDS references, so I reluctantly decided not to review it is The Knight of Redmond by Jennifer K. Clark, a medieval romance. I completely recommend all three of these books.

Here's another review I've had ready for awhile.  Tristi Pinkston's Till Death do us Part features Ida Mae Babbit's wedding preparations.  Being Ida Mae, of course there's a mystery involved.

Till Death Do Us Part by Tristi Pinkston 

Reviewed by Jennie Hansen

 

Tristi Pinkston is ending her Secret Sisters Mystery series with Till Death Do Us Part.  That title bothers me; shouldn't it be 'til not till?  Whatever, it's a fun read and as usual, features Ida Mae Babbitt and her friends, Arletta and Tansy. 

Ida Mae is surprised and excited by widower George Gilmore's proposal.  She met the gentleman in a previous book at a nursing home where he was a temporary patient.  She's also anxious to learn whether her nephew, Ren, or the young journalist, Kevin, will win Arlette's granddaughter, Eden's heart.  George springs one more surprise on her by requesting they get married in two weeks while his children who are visiting are still in town and that they get married in his back yard.  She agrees, but begins a hasty scramble to plan the wedding. On a hasty shopping trip before meeting with George and his family to work out details of the wedding, she discovers the perfect dress.  

Ida Mae is stunned to discover George's home isn't some simple little house with a tiny back yard, but a three story mansion in the most exclusive part of town.  The back yard is a carefully maintained formal garden. George's children don't seem too anxious to welcome her into the family and one daughter seems determined to take over the wedding plans, turning it into a major society event.  When George and Ida Mae escape to the roof for a breather marks the beginning of disasters.  First Ida Mae finds herself locked in an elevator, the dress she picked for her wedding is slashed to shreds, then what appeared to be intimidation turns to life threatening. 

Ida Mae isn't quite as brash in this volume as in the earlier books, but she's still a magnet for mystery and trouble.  She seems a little more mature and cautious too, though she doesn't hesitate to stand up for herself or to go looking for answers.  

Part of the fun of reading a mystery is the element of discovery, picking up on clues that eventually lead to the guilty party.  There aren't a lot of clues scattered through the story which leaves a lot of explaining following the denouement.  Since this is the final book in this series it leans heavily toward wrapping up the continuing story line that carried through the series from Ida Mae and her friends being released from their ward's  Relief Society due to skating a little too close to the law, the triangle relationship involving Eden, Ren, and Kevin, and the strained relationship between Ida Mae and her children.   

Tristi Pinkston is the author of fifteen published books.  She and her husband live in Utah with their four children where in addition to writing, she is a popular blogger, editor, and she frequently presents at various writers' conferences. 

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TILL DEATH DO US PART by Tristi Pinkston, published by Walnut Springs Press, 245 pages. soft cover $17.99, available on Kindle.

 

MOMENTS REMEMBERED

A long time ago I taught a genealogy class that focused on writing personal histories.  I remember advising the various classes I taught to write about those little memories that keep coming to mind , not just the big, significant events.  It's important to include in a personal history facts such as when you were born, baptized, married, schools attended, etc., but it's also important to include memories of smaller events and occasions.  If a memory keeps rising to the surface, even if it seems unimportant, there's a reason and it should be written down.  Last night I had trouble falling asleep and half forgotten memories of some of those long ago minor happenings kept playing through my mind. Today I'm writing them down. 

Mama had a black box camera and because developing film was expensive, she didn't use it a lot.  But I remember one occasion when she lined up me, my sisters, and a little brother beside the house to take our picture.  It took too long and I wet my pants. It was a tragedy then, but I laugh every time I see that picture now. 

The farmer who lived on one farm before we did, raised radish seed.  My older sister and I found radishes growing along the ditches, in the hay field, and in other unexpected places that spring. Our play house, mud pies, and even the dinner table was well supplied with radishes. I'm not sure why I think of those radishes at odd times all these years later, but perhaps it's a reminder that seeds scattered to the wind will grow in unexpected places. 

My older brothers teased me a lot and one day one of them pinned me to a clothesline.  I was stuck until Mama noticed and came to my rescue. 

Colleen, my cousin, and I were crazy about horses.  Riding double on Flicka one day, we had a difference of opinion with the horse when she decided to evade a flock of sheep being herded through the barnyard by going inside the milk parlor.  A low hanging wire over the door that separated the milk parlor from the main part of the barn caught us under our chins, scraping us off the horse and onto the cement floor.  Colleen was scraped up, but I was knocked unconscious.  When I woke up I was in my bed and my cousin and her family had gone home.  I didn't even get to tell her it wouldn't have  happened if she hadn't insisted on holding the reins and steering the horse! 

When I was thirteen I became the owner of a huge Harley Davidson motorcycle.  Someone owed my dad money and couldn't pay him, so he gave him the bike as payment. Daddy didn't want the bike, but he knew it was the only payment he would get, and since I was impressed by the huge bike, he said I could have it.  I never rode it; I couldn't even stand it up, but it was mine--until we moved again and Daddy left it behind in a shed. 

It was the first year my husband and I had a full size Christmas tree instead of a small table top tree.  My brother cut the tree on his in-laws' farm.  We appreciated the gift, but we didn't have enough ornaments for it and no money to buy any.  Thinking I was being practical, I baked sugar cookies and my small daughter helped me decorate them.  We hung them on the tree and thought our tree was beautiful.  The next day we had to be gone all day and when we returned home we found the tree lying on its side with the cookies smashed beneath it and all over the room.  I was never sure if the weight of the cookies toppled the tree or if the cat had something to do with the tipped over tree. 

One summer day a Monarch butterfly adopted me.  Each time I stepped outside the door the butterfly would land on my arm and stay perched there until I went back inside the house.  My children and the neighbor children playing with them were so thrilled they begged me to stay outside, so I took a holiday from cleaning house, writing, and cooking to stay outside and play with the children--me and the butterfly. 

My son-in-law, Rich, and I like to fish.  Our family had journeyed to a favorite reunion ranch near Challis, Idaho, when one evening the two of us set out for a nearby stream for a little fishing without the kids.  We stopped at a bridge and cast in our lines.  He had a bite, then I had a bite.  Soon we were reeling in trout as fast as we could release and rebait. In twenty minutes or so we caught fourteen fish, most of which we released.  (We usually only keep the ones from which we can't remove the hook without injuring the fish.) Those fish barely let our lines hit the water before they bit. It was a fisherman's dream and struck us as funny.  We laughed and joked about those fish wanting so badly to be caught we could hardly stand up. 

I awoke in a strange bed in a motel room in another state to the whimpering cry of a baby.  My exhausted daughter slept through his cries, so I crept out of bed to gather him up from the crib the motel had provided for us.  My husband and I and our daughter had been up most of the night before frantically arranging early morning flights to an unfamiliar city to collect the infant our daughter and her military husband had been waiting for for ten long years.  Her husband was deployed so it was my husband and I who accompanied our daughter on that momentous trip. I took the baby back to my bed where I cuddled him and fed him a bottle, letting his new mommy sleep. Something happened as I held that baby and watched his little face in the dim light.  He became my grandson, not through shared blood, but through an invisible link from my heart to his that I knew was destined to last forever. 

Though it's the big occasions that are immortalized in photos and noted on diplomas, certificates, and news clippings, it is the little moments that make up a life.  It isn't the names, places, and dates with which we fill in the blanks on forms that sum up who we are as much as it is the memories, the unplanned moments, and the small things that string our days and years together.

ESTHER THE QUEEN

Here's another review from my backlog of reviews. 

 

ESTHER THE QUEEN by H. B. Moore, published by Covenant Communications, 217 pages, soft cover, $15.99, also available on CD and for e-readers. 

Confession time!  I've always cringed a bit when it comes to fictionalized accounts of scriptural stories.  Most feel a little on the sacrilegious side to me and I have a strong preference for sticking to the scriptural account without the make believe drama and supposed inner thoughts and feelings of a biblical or Book of Mormon character added.  I make an exception for H.B. Moore.  Moore writes a great fictional romance, but it is her attention to historical detail and doctrinal accuracy surrounding her fictional tale that I find impressive. 

Women are definitely in the minority in the scriptures, but every little girl who ever attended Sunday School grew up admiring Esther, the Jewish girl who became a queen and saved her people from annihilation.  Moore whose previous scriptural historical novels have been centered on the Book of Mormon, chose to base her most recent book Esther the Queen, on the beautiful, young Jewess girl who became a biblical heroine.

Yes, she invented a charming love story for the Persian King Xerxes and Esther wherein they meet through a Cinderella-like story and he goes in search of the beautiful girl who caught his eye during the unexpected encounter, vowing to make her his queen.  But it is the details concerning the Jews precarious position in Persia, the year long wait in the palace harem before the wedding takes place, and the intricacies of Persian politics, religion, and law that make the story particularly fascinating.   

Esther is a story of courage.  It's the story of a young woman who chooses to leave her familiar world not because she lacks faith, but because she feels it is what God wants her to do.  Knowing her predecessor was divorced for refusing a request made by her husband, Esther knew approaching him when and where she did was a serious step that could cost her life.  She knowingly chose to try to save her people at the risk of her marriage, her comfortable life, and possibly her own life. 

Though it's a familiar story, Moore instills a new vitality to the story, making it easy for the reader to get caught up in the plot.  In her hands Esther and Xerxes both become warm and real.   

Heather B. Moore who writes historicals under H.B. Moore is the recipient of numerous awards.  She not only writes scripturally based historical fiction, but is the author of a couple of non-fiction titles, and has recently made a foray into romance and women's fiction. She manages Precision Editing and is a BYU graduate.  She, her husband, and their young family live in Utah.

 

E-Books and Editing

With the increased use of e-readers more and more of the books I review come to me electronically instead of as paper books.  I love to read and I'm not too fussy about which way I  read a book.  I've always loved the look and feel of a real book in my hands and because I've always depended on a partially photographic memory, paper books hold some definite advantages for me as a reviewer.  I can easily turn to a page or section I wish to quote or paraphrase without making copious notes.  Unfortunately my poor brain thinks all pages look the same on the e-reader.  Still I like the convenience and the portability of the e-reader.

I'm fairly tolerant of the occasional error in the books I read for possible reviews.  Usually I'm more concerned with content, story structure, character development, and overall appeal than with typos.  Even paper books from really good publishing houses often have a few errors, but in recent years I've seen an increase in the number of typos, misspelled words, and even grammar errors in books from even the top publishers, but this is a drop in the bucket compared to what I find in the novels I read on my e-reader. Sometimes I shake my head and wonder if the author even went to school.  I've grown accustomed to seeing this problem on Face Book, but it seems to me that books someone pays money to obtain on their e-readers should be proofread better.  

Too many e-books are self-edited.  Being your own editor is a lot like being your own attorney; you have a fool for a client.  That's not to say a writer shouldn't go through his/her manuscripts and at each stage of the editing process with extreme care, but going it alone isn't wise.  Another set of eyes is needed to produce a quality product. At this point many writers hire the cheapest freelance editor they can find.  Some freelance editors do a great job, but some don't.  I've read books edited by one well known freelance editor who repeats the same word usage mistakes in multiple books by different authors.  As soon as I see pour for pore, tenant for tenet, or muscle for mussel, I can guess who the author used for an independent editor.

I just finished reading a book which had a great story, sympathetic characters, and in a genre I enjoy, but on the second page was and were were interchanged.  As I got further into the story I found other grammar errors, several instances where a main character's name was changed, messy formatting, and an instance where a word was used that is similar sounding to the one meant but entirely different in meaning. 

I thoroughly recommend that writers go with a reputable publisher with real editors, but with the shortage of qualified copy editors these days smart writers need to go back to Grammar 101 and learn to proofread.  Those who decide to self publish in the e-reader market, keep in mind that you need two kinds of editors; one that analyzes content and knows how to help you produce the best story possible and one who understands the grammar, spelling, and typos maze.  Errors tend to stop the action and spoil otherwise perfectly good stories. 

Twenty years ago a writer told me her editor at a national publishing house went through her manuscripts with a purple pen, marking every misspelled word or grammar error, then a set amount was deducted from her royalties for each purple mark. I was careful to never submit anything to her publisher, but with some of the error riddled and badly formatted e-books I've read in the past two years since I got an e-reader, I've developed a great deal of sympathy for the publishing house.  Sadly I don't see the situation improving until we insist our schools do a better job of teaching grammar and spelling, until writers take the initiative to clean up their own work, and until readers refuse to pay for shoddy work.

Historical Novel Review

It's been a year since I started a painful summer followed by three major surgeries and all of the therapy and life changes that brought about.  During that time I've read a lot of books and stacked up more reviews than Meridian Magazine can handle so I've decided to post some of those reviews here on my blog beginning with this one:

 

MATTIE by Martha Ann Robinson Rohrer, published by Cedar Fort, Inc., 238 pages, paperback $10.31, kindle $6.99 .

 

Mattie by Martha Ann Robinson Rohrer is an historical novel based on the diaries of her grandmother who lived in the early 1900s in Colonia Juarez, Mexico. It begins with the death of Mattie's father when she was eleven years old. She'd been close to her father though he was an old man with three wives.  His death was the beginning of her struggle with faith. 

George Washington Sevey's first wife had stayed in Utah with her grown children when George moved to Mexico with his two younger wives to avoid being sent to prison and having his property confiscated by the federal government because of his plural marriage status. After one of the younger wives died, the two families were combined and Mattie grew up one of twelve children in the household. The first part of the book deals with her friends and activities in the small, dusty town, including her friendship with Alonzo who makes no secret of his feelings for her.

The story abruptly shifts to Arizona where Mattie goes as a young woman to live with an older sister and her family.  She works as a waitress and falls in love with a handsome, charming man who isn't the man he claims to be.  The experience leaves her shaken and she eventually travels to Monterey, California to marry Alonzo.  There she lives with another sister for a time until a violent earthquake changes her life dramatically and she returns to Mexico without marrying her childhood sweetheart. 

Life in Mexico has become turbulent and dangerous.  The Mormon settlers are often attacked and murdered.  She marries a young man she considered almost an outsider when they were children and is among the women and children who are evacuated by train to El Paso when the warring Mexican factions threaten the colony.  One of her sisters, with Mattie's assistance, gives birth to a baby on that nightmare journey.  They finally reach Elm Paso and are treated graciously by the people there, but she is anxious to return again to Mexico to be with her husband who is running a freight business and trying to stay neutral between the many warring generals battling for control of the country.  She gives birth to two daughters during that turbulent period and faces many frightening experiences. 

I had mixed feelings while reading this book. I found the historical events and background fascinating.  Much of the day to day life and the mixed loyalties of that period are presented from a fresh viewpoint.  However, I had difficulty with the abrupt and unexplained time and place transitions.  Some of the events are breathtakingly realistic and well-written.  Other parts read like a rough draft.  Even with its rough spots this is an unforgettable novel and well worth reading. 

Mattie is an interesting character.  She is stubborn, a little shy, but determined once her mind is made up, she's a bit judgmental, has a great deal of courage, but doesn't always make wise choices, and she struggles with faith in God.  With time and experience her faith grows and she learns to rely on God though she still occasionally questions. The author is at her best when she describes the everyday events of that era and she does a great job detailing Mattie's doubts and spiritual growth.  The plot works well and follows the actual events of that turbulent period in history. 

Martha Ann Robinson Rohrer was born in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico. She left there at the age of nine and lived in Peru for ten years.  She then moved with her family to Tucson, Arizona.  She and her husband now live in Pasco, Washington, and are the parents of five children and count thirteen grandchildren. 

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MATTIE by Martha Ann Robinson Rohrer, published by Cedar Fort, Inc., 238 pages, paperback $10.31, kindle $6.99 .

NOT MY BEST BLOG

This isn't a good blog writing day: I seem to be coming down with a cold.  I hope it's just a matter of being time to go back on my allergy meds, but my husband and several grandkids are just getting over nasty colds so . . .

Anyway I considered writing about the loss of life and property in Moore, Oklahoma, and how we never know when tragedy might strike.  However all I can think of is the importance of being prepared with 72 hour kits, establish a contact place outside of your area where you can meet up with loved ones or leave messages, and the importance of making sure the people you love know you care about them.  I've been impressed with the courage and bravery so many have shown, I've wiped away tears for reunions and losses, and I've wondered why zoning laws don't require safe rooms in houses and public buildings along tornado alley.  But the fact is, I don't feel like writing at all. 

I'll admit it's unusual for me to not want to write.  This feeling is different from writer's block, a malady that strikes all writers sooner or later for varying lengths of time.  With Writer's block we may want to write, might even be in the middle of a project we want very much to finish, but feel stumped, don't know where to go, sometimes feel overwhelmed, the words just won't come.  But in this case there are thoughts in my head, things I could write about the tornado, about my sadness for the death of President Monson's wife, my disgust for the political scandals that were hid from the public before the election and the extremist views and comments from both the right and left that are only making a bad situation worse, all the cute and funny moments my grandchildren have brought into my life, and the kind action of my daughters who undertook a shopping expedition for me. (I now have a pair of pants that fit and birthday presents for my littlest granddaughter's first birthday!)  I could even write about my therapy experience.  Who would have thought learning to bend and straighten a knee could be so exhausting and painful!   

What I really want to do is crawl in bed.  I had a strenuous workout today so I'll probably run the ice machine on my knee first, then swallow a few pills.  I'll try to do better next time I blog.  Good night all.

If Wishes were Horses--or something like that!

My mother used to warn me to be careful what I wished for.  When she was a little girl her best friend wished she could get the measles so she wouldn't have to go to school.  Many of the children in their community were going through unplanned vacations from school because of the red spots and she wanted an excuse to skip school too.  The child got her wish and got more than she'd bargained for, a particularly hard case of the measles.  She was painfully ill and eventually died of complications. 

Having been extremely skinny all of my life, I used to wish I could gain a little weight.  Even during the short stretch of my modeling career I got yelled at each time I lost a pound or two. Like my mother's friend, I got more than I bargained for when my metabolism somehow changed and I started piling on pounds.  I soon discovered I hated all those extra pounds and I began wishing I could lose them.  No matter how hard I exercised and dieted the pounds seemed determined to stay.  Little by little the single digit sizes disappeared from my closet to be replaced with ever greater double digits.  Then something happened-- three major surgeries in six months.  The first knee replacement surgery didn't affect my weight much, but the pancreatectomy turned off my weight gaining problem, made me a diabetic, and forced drastic changes in my eating habits. (Not a particular kindness for a chocoholic!) Quite unexpectedly I got my wish and dropped nearly forty pounds in a couple of months.

I'm neither bragging nor complaining, but under the circumstances that much weight loss has created an array of problems.  My clothes don't fit.  I look like a bag lady draped in clothing three sizes too large.  Even my shoes and my underwear are baggy! 

Well meaning friends and family assure me it will be fun to go shopping for a new wardrobe, but that's where my third surgery comes in, another knee replacement.  I can barely walk. Today is the first I ventured downstairs without crutches and nearly strangled the wooden stair rails in the process. I need help getting my shoes on.  I'm not permitted to drive. I need safety pins to keep up my shorts when I have physical therapy. I'm afraid a shopping trip is some distance in the future. 

Another complication that caught me by surprise is the cold.  I'm freezing.  Unlike my friend, Susan, in Hawaii who lost a similar amount of weight the past few months, I have to deal with Utah weather which isn't kind to someone who just lost forty pounds of insulation.  On those recent warm days when my husband turned on the air conditioning, I reached for a sweater or a blanket. 

Even with good insurance my surgeries have taken a big bite out of what I might consider wardrobe replacement funds, but the biggest expenses turned out not to be medical.  The day before my pancreatectomy we discovered a gas leak near our fireplace.  That involved turning off the gas, ripping out the fireplace, installing new lines and valves, then installing a new fireplace.  After my second knee replacement surgery, my husband returned home to discover our garage door was broken and had to be replaced.  Both required hefty financial contributions.

 

I'm through wishing.  I'll set a few goals now and then, but I'm through thinking the fulfillment of a wish will make everything wonderful.  I should have figured out a long time ago there's a reason The Monkey's Paw has stuck in my head since I first read it as a naive thirteen-year-old.