In Loving Memory

My True Love Hath My Heart

My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
My true-love hath my heart.

His heart in me keeps him and me in one.
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own.
I cherish his because in me it bides.
My true-love hath my heart

His heart is shattered, because mine passed away peacefully yesterday afternoon, December 17th at 3:25 pm. We were together until the very bittersweet end and he suffers no longer. It has been an incredible privilege to be his wife, his lover and partner for the past decade. We have both been blessed by so many, having had so many prayers and positive thoughts sent our way, especially during this past year. Alfred wanted me to express his gratitude to those who have "been here" for us both and my own gratitude joins his. Thank you all for your continued prayers, hugs, love and support. Each of you, just like my beloved was, is a gift from the God of my Understanding to me.

that's what the nurse told me, when I phoned from work a couple of days ago, to check on Spouse. Those old symptoms, which we have seen before, a few times this year, that we'd discovered were caused by a UTI (urinary tract infection) have returned again. So, I told the doctor & his care management team about the previous episodes and what was done to bring Spouse back to better condition. So, they took a sample of blood & urine for lab work.

It's not another UTI, but it is what it is. Spouse is getting nearer to the end, so please excuse my absence. He tells me he feels the end is near and he is tired, ready and the only thing that keeps him here is his worry for me. I told him to not worry over me, but to go when he is ready & to remember my faith in our Higher Power to meet my needs. Spouse can watch over me, from where it is he goes from here and I shall have comfort in knowing he is looking out for me.

My boss knows that I won't be able to work pretty soon, even on a part-time basis. I've got to work 4 days this week, but I've informed him that in the next week(s), it will be impossible for me to work two days in a row, as he's got me scheduled this week. Spouse told me he is afraid I won't be there, when the time comes & I've promised to be at his side.

Much to do now - get the dogs' care arranged, get through this week of work and figure out where the extra gas money will come from. Oh yeah - they (the nursing home) moved Spouse to a different room. It's at the end of another hall and that blasted buzzer which signals the staff to a resident needing assistance is no longer blaring outside of his room door! The new room is painted a nice color, is very quiet and his window is much larger.

Yesterday, while I was there, we were watching the flock of birds that frequent his feeders that are hung just outside his window. Suddenly, they all flew away and we saw a large bird land on the bush below the feeders. I looked, surprised, and discovered a hawk had lighted on the bush! It was a beautiful hawk and Spouse was thrilled to see it. That was nice, but I cannot help but wonder if the hawk was some sort of omen, a sign of things to come.

Must get ready for work now, so I hope you all know that you remain in my thoughts. If I knew how to insert a shoutbox, I would. Feel free to leave your hellos & such in this post & I'll check them when able. Love y'all!

How evil am I? Sometimes, I wonder. The past few days have been tiring, to say the very least. My new job is exhausting work, but I love it & the people I get to wait on. My feet and lower back are screaming by the end of my shifts, but I actually have fun, real fun, meeting the people and getting to know my co-workers. Sure, there are aspects of the job that I already dislike, but I think that's because my body is so out of shape and the shelf stocking is so labor intensive. Anyway, it's been a nice reprieve from the isolation I lived in for the past few years. Spouse & I shared such a lovely Thanksgiving day together, if one is able to forget the awful grub served by the nursing home for dinner. Cooking our own turkey and dragging along a can of the cranberry sauce proved to be one of my better ideas this month. I was able to get one of the staff to open the can of whole cranberries sauce and we we celebrated that lovely tradition that began when we first moved from our huge home in Bellingham, WA to the shitty trailer in Plains, MT. When the time to serve our first official "trailer trash Thanksgiving dinner" came, I was perplexed as to whether it was proper to serve the cranberry sauce from yet another dish to wash by hand, or serve it directly from the can. We opted, being newly arrived at our long awaited dream of becoming official trailer trash, to serve the delicious sauce straight from the can. And, since that first TTT, we've continued with the tradition. It's a running holiday joke my beloved and I have shared, one that has never failed to bring a twinkle to our eyes and sly smiles to our faces. The dietary aide at the nursing home was fairly stressed and did not seem to give much of a ripped rat's ass about our tradition, but she still begrudingly opened the tin for me. The cook, however, grinned when I explained the can, even though there were teeny plastic cups with dollops of the nearly clear & berry-less sauce sitting at each table. She acknowledged that it was a nice idea for me to bring some of my own home cooking for this special dinner and to include our cute little tradition of the canned cranberry goodies. We had a nice enough dinner that day, at least with the dessert and the food I'd brought from home. Our visit was nice and the day went too fast. I had to leave, as I do each time I visit, with enough time for me to drive the speed limit and still have some daylight to watch out for deer on the road. It kind of sucks, having to leave a little earlier in the day than before, because I might as well be stone cold blind as far as anything in the peripheal of the headlights when I drive at night. Must be a part of getting older, I suppose. Anyhow, I took the following day off, to give myself a day of rest, since I'd not had one in quite awhile. When I awoke, my plan was to get dressed, slam some java and get back on the road to see Spouse once again. As soon as I tried to sit up in bed, my sciatica told me a different plan. If I planned on working Saturday, as I was scheduled, then I needed to stay home and relax, as best I could. So, I called Spouse and let him know what was going on. He said he understood, sort of, and I stayed in my jammies until late in the day. My legs were finally relenting and allowing me to stand straighter, with less pain and I drove to Watertown, to do a teeny bit of Christmas shopping. Actually, I went there for one thing and found it... the last one on the shelf! It's a little something, which shall remain nameless for now, in case my grandson's mom knows about my blog. I knew that part of the stress that was tightening up my sciatica was due to not having the time to do ANY Christmas shopping, since I am expected to be at Spouse's side when I am not at work. That's mostly a presumption of my own, since few of his family & friends have actually come out and asked why or how I could stand to be anyplace but near him when he's so ill. A couple of his friends have brought up the subject and were rewarded with THE LOOK. Once they've spent a bit of time with him, now that he's more easily agitated and just downright mean, they seem to have a better understanding of how & why I am able to tear myself away from him for a few hours a week. *pfffft* On Friday, when I was at home/shopping, Spouse had someone at the nursing home take him to a doctor, since his regular doc at the home was gone for the holiday weekend. This new doctor upped the pain meds for Spouse, because his liver contractions were increasingly getting worse and more frequent. I'd noticed this when I spent the day with him the preceding Thursday and suggested he mention the increased pain and timing to his doctor. The thing this new doctor didn't take into consideration, when upping the dosage, was the ability of Spouse's liver to assimilate the increased dosage. I visited Spouse again on Sunday and he was difficult the majority of our visit. He seems so angry all the time and takes it out on me and the staff, constantly. I do understand that his pain plays a huge role in how he reacts, as well as his inability to do basic math now. In saying basic math, I mean he has trouble keeping facts straight, days & times confuse him and his memory is really beginning to suffer. He gets one visit confused with another, to the point he told one of the nurses that I hadn't seen him on Sunday because I had the flu. The reason I know about this conversation is because the nurse called me Sunday evening, to report that Spouse had fallen, when he tried to get from his wheelchair into a regular chair about an hour before she called me. He was blabbering incoherently, unable to walk on his own and was clearly over-medicated! The new doc had upped the prescription to 20mg of morphine each hour, as needed. Spouse took that to mean that he was now able to have it every hour, whether needed or not. I know he was thinking it would be better to stay on top of the pain, rather than wait until he could feel it coming on, but what happened was his liver was unable to assimilate such a high dosage, with such frequency after awhile. Bear in mind, Spouse was getting the same dosage, every two hours, prior to the new uppage. That, along with the phentynol (sp?) patch that was increased from 50 to 75, and the 30mg of slow-release morphine that Spouse gets twice a day. *the 20mg is the instant release kind* The nurse told me that she wasn't going to give Spouse any more morphine that night, until he wakes up, which happened around 3 a.m. His last dose was at 8 pm and that was the one that sent him soaring with eagles. With that episode now behind us, Spouse has realized, in some small way, that he was watching the clock to get his pain meds, instead of listening to his body. If/when I try to approach the subject now, he gets really hostile and totally pisses me off. I see someone who has a problem - a major problem - with his morphine and it's a two-edged sword. He cannot function without the morphine, because of the tremendous pain he is in, yet his liver is proving incapable of handling the amount needed to control the pain. It's really difficult for me to decipher whether Spouse is actually in pain because of his liver failing, or if he's in pain because he's addicted to the morphine and he just may be going through withdrawals when certain levels aren't maintained. I don't know. I don't know. I just plain don't freaking know and it sets upon my shoulders like a huge, heavy, stone gargoyle. Today I went to see him again, resenting having to leave our home and brace myself against the frigid temperatures. When I awoke at 8 a.m., it was a frosty 2*F here in Clark, and only a few temps warmer (4*F) in Redfield. Going outside was certainly NOT something I planned to enjoy, and I didn't. Perhaps I have mentioned previously to my friends here, how much I absolutely loathe cold? Really, really loathe it, especially if it hits the back of my neck, which nearly always throws my back muscles into spasms. I truly appreciate those heated seats in the Jeep even more now! Anyhow... back to my original question when I began this excerpt of my life... am I evil? Today, Spouse was thinking that eventually he would outlive the contract which the VA has with the nursing home and he'd have to go back to the VA hospital, until the contract was renewed. He told me & the social services director of the facility that he refuses to return to the VA hospital, but instead he would rather come home to die. He would merely ask his sister (who cannot afford it, nor would she want to leave her own husband alone for that long) to come stay with us to help me out. I told him I would have to quit my job, if he insists on coming home. He seems to think that wouldn't be necessary, if his sister was there to help out. The thing is, she's not in much better health than me, as far as strength of the physical nature is concerned. There's also the fact that our home is ill-equipped to deal with his needs, especially when he gets to the end, the very end, stages of his disease. So, I called his sister tonight and we talked about his rantings (he was yelling and ranting, when he divulged his plan to go home) and whether we felt we'd be able to fulfill his wishes. Here is where the gut & heart honesty come into play, folks, and it isn't pretty. I don't want him to come home to die. My love for him has not faltered a whit, but the thought of him coming home to die scares the shit out of me. I haven't forgotten how difficult life was when he was at home the last time and he got so sick. Does he expect me to let him lay in a bed and die, if he could live longer in a facility that provides round the clock care for him? I guess he does. He has already pretty much outlived the VA docs' prognosis and is going into his third month of Hospice care. Those doctors thought he'd be lucky to live two months, let alone four. He has begun to make a slow, progressive turn toward the downward spiral and the waiting makes him so angry. I get that. I really do. The problem is, he's not the only one who has been waiting (not happily expecting, please bear in mind) and dealing with the slow, lingering crawl of the Grim Reaper to his bedside. This man, who bears the name of my beloved, whom I have visited as often as possible, is not the man I married. The man I married was intense, passionate about many things, but was not a mean spirited person. My husband was thoughtful and generous, often putting the needs of others before himself. He cared about other people. This man that I visit curses at other residents, often saying awful, hateful things about them. This stranger who telephones me is my beloved, my darling and my tormentor, all tied into one human. It's obvious to me, he thinks if he comes home, he might die sooner, than later. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some not so ingenious plan hidden in the deepest corners of his befuddled mind, something devious which might even speed up the process. He knows that if he were at home, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to fall again, where he would only hurt himself further. Or perhaps he might "accidentally" take too much of his medicine, when left alone in his room for a potty break... who knows? All I am sure of, whether this fact makes me the evil bitch some might see me as, is I would rather continue dealing with the stress of driving so far to visit him, on my days off, than have him come home to die. I feel quite certain his life has been extended, thus far, because he's getting the round the clock care that I cannot give him at home. He wants to come home to die. I think he's being a selfish bastard for asking this of me. As much as I love him truly, I hope death comes more quickly for him, so that his misery might be ended. For those of you who might be offended by my honesty, I shall not apologize. Feel free to wear my shoes, when you exit & take your bowel movements with you. To those of you with far more understanding, thank you, bless you & I miss you more than words can express. I'm so tired, kids... and it's not even December, yet!

My Guts on a Platter

How evil am I? Sometimes, I wonder. The past few days have been tiring, to say the very least. My new job is exhausting work, but I love it & the people I get to wait on. My feet and lower back are screaming by the end of my shifts, but I actually have fun, real fun, meeting the people and getting to know my co-workers. Sure, there are aspects of the job that I already dislike, but I think that's because my body is so out of shape and the shelf stocking is so labor intensive. Anyway, it's been a nice reprieve from the isolation I lived in for the past few years.

Spouse & I shared such a lovely Thanksgiving day together, if one is able to forget the awful grub served by the nursing home for dinner. Cooking our own turkey and dragging along a can of the cranberry sauce proved to be one of my better ideas this month. I was able to get one of the staff to open the can of whole cranberries sauce and we we celebrated that lovely tradition that began when we first moved from our huge home in Bellingham, WA to the shitty trailer in Plains, MT.

When the time to serve our first official "trailer trash Thanksgiving dinner" came, I was perplexed as to whether it was proper to serve the cranberry sauce from yet another dish to wash by hand, or serve it directly from the can. We opted, being newly arrived at our long awaited dream of becoming official trailer trash, to serve the delicious sauce straight from the can. And, since that first TTT, we've continued with the tradition. It's a running holiday joke my beloved and I have shared, one that has never failed to bring a twinkle to our eyes and sly smiles to our faces.

The dietary aide at the nursing home was fairly stressed and did not seem to give much of a ripped rat's ass about our tradition, but she still begrudingly opened the tin for me. The cook, however, grinned when I explained the can, even though there were teeny plastic cups with dollops of the nearly clear & berry-less sauce sitting at each table. She acknowledged that it was a nice idea for me to bring some of my own home cooking for this special dinner and to include our cute little tradition of the canned cranberry goodies.

We had a nice enough dinner that day, at least with the dessert and the food I'd brought from home. Our visit was nice and the day went too fast. I had to leave, as I do each time I visit, with enough time for me to drive the speed limit and still have some daylight to watch out for deer on the road. It kind of sucks, having to leave a little earlier in the day than before, because I might as well be stone cold blind as far as anything in the peripheal of the headlights when I drive at night. Must be a part of getting older, I suppose.

Anyhow, I took the following day off, to give myself a day of rest, since I'd not had one in quite awhile. When I awoke, my plan was to get dressed, slam some java and get back on the road to see Spouse once again. As soon as I tried to sit up in bed, my sciatica told me a different plan. If I planned on working Saturday, as I was scheduled, then I needed to stay home and relax, as best I could. So, I called Spouse and let him know what was going on. He said he understood, sort of, and I stayed in my jammies until late in the day. My legs were finally relenting and allowing me to stand straighter, with less pain and I drove to Watertown, to do a teeny bit of Christmas shopping. Actually, I went there for one thing and found it... the last one on the shelf! It's a little something, which shall remain nameless for now, in case my grandson's mom knows about my blog. I knew that part of the stress that was tightening up my sciatica was due to not having the time to do ANY Christmas shopping, since I am expected to be at Spouse's side when I am not at work. That's mostly a presumption of my own, since few of his family & friends have actually come out and asked why or how I could stand to be anyplace but near him when he's so ill. A couple of his friends have brought up the subject and were rewarded with THE LOOK. Once they've spent a bit of time with him, now that he's more easily agitated and just downright mean, they seem to have a better understanding of how & why I am able to tear myself away from him for a few hours a week. *pfffft*

On Friday, when I was at home/shopping, Spouse had someone at the nursing home take him to a doctor, since his regular doc at the home was gone for the holiday weekend. This new doctor upped the pain meds for Spouse, because his liver contractions were increasingly getting worse and more frequent. I'd noticed this when I spent the day with him the preceding Thursday and suggested he mention the increased pain and timing to his doctor. The thing this new doctor didn't take into consideration, when upping the dosage, was the ability of Spouse's liver to assimilate the increased dosage. I visited Spouse again on Sunday and he was difficult the majority of our visit. He seems so angry all the time and takes it out on me and the staff, constantly. I do understand that his pain plays a huge role in how he reacts, as well as his inability to do basic math now. In saying basic math, I mean he has trouble keeping facts straight, days & times confuse him and his memory is really beginning to suffer. He gets one visit confused with another, to the point he told one of the nurses that I hadn't seen him on Sunday because I had the flu.

The reason I know about this conversation is because the nurse called me Sunday evening, to report that Spouse had fallen, when he tried to get from his wheelchair into a regular chair about an hour before she called me. He was blabbering incoherently, unable to walk on his own and was clearly over-medicated! The new doc had upped the prescription to 20mg of morphine each hour, as needed. Spouse took that to mean that he was now able to have it every hour, whether needed or not. I know he was thinking it would be better to stay on top of the pain, rather than wait until he could feel it coming on, but what happened was his liver was unable to assimilate such a high dosage, with such frequency after awhile. Bear in mind, Spouse was getting the same dosage, every two hours, prior to the new uppage. That, along with the phentynol (sp?) patch that was increased from 50 to 75, and the 30mg of slow-release morphine that Spouse gets twice a day. *the 20mg is the instant release kind* The nurse told me that she wasn't going to give Spouse any more morphine that night, until he wakes up, which happened around 3 a.m. His last dose was at 8 pm and that was the one that sent him soaring with eagles.

With that episode now behind us, Spouse has realized, in some small way, that he was watching the clock to get his pain meds, instead of listening to his body. If/when I try to approach the subject now, he gets really hostile and totally pisses me off. I see someone who has a problem - a major problem - with his morphine and it's a two-edged sword. He cannot function without the morphine, because of the tremendous pain he is in, yet his liver is proving incapable of handling the amount needed to control the pain. It's really difficult for me to decipher whether Spouse is actually in pain because of his liver failing, or if he's in pain because he's addicted to the morphine and he just may be going through withdrawals when certain levels aren't maintained. I don't know. I don't know. I just plain don't freaking know and it sets upon my shoulders like a huge, heavy, stone gargoyle.

Today I went to see him again, resenting having to leave our home and brace myself against the frigid temperatures. When I awoke at 8 a.m., it was a frosty 2*F here in Clark, and only a few temps warmer (4*F) in Redfield. Going outside was certainly NOT something I planned to enjoy, and I didn't. Perhaps I have mentioned previously to my friends here, how much I absolutely loathe cold? Really, really loathe it, especially if it hits the back of my neck, which nearly always throws my back muscles into spasms. I truly appreciate those heated seats in the Jeep even more now!

Anyhow... back to my original question when I began this excerpt of my life... am I evil? Today, Spouse was thinking that eventually he would outlive the contract which the VA has with the nursing home and he'd have to go back to the VA hospital, until the contract was renewed. He told me & the social services director of the facility that he refuses to return to the VA hospital, but instead he would rather come home to die. He would merely ask his sister (who cannot afford it, nor would she want to leave her own husband alone for that long) to come stay with us to help me out. I told him I would have to quit my job, if he insists on coming home. He seems to think that wouldn't be necessary, if his sister was there to help out. The thing is, she's not in much better health than me, as far as strength of the physical nature is concerned. There's also the fact that our home is ill-equipped to deal with his needs, especially when he gets to the end, the very end, stages of his disease.

So, I called his sister tonight and we talked about his rantings (he was yelling and ranting, when he divulged his plan to go home) and whether we felt we'd be able to fulfill his wishes. Here is where the gut & heart honesty come into play, folks, and it isn't pretty. I don't want him to come home to die. My love for him has not faltered a whit, but the thought of him coming home to die scares the shit out of me. I haven't forgotten how difficult life was when he was at home the last time and he got so sick. Does he expect me to let him lay in a bed and die, if he could live longer in a facility that provides round the clock care for him? I guess he does. He has already pretty much outlived the VA docs' prognosis and is going into his third month of Hospice care. Those doctors thought he'd be lucky to live two months, let alone four. He has begun to make a slow, progressive turn toward the downward spiral and the waiting makes him so angry. I get that. I really do. The problem is, he's not the only one who has been waiting (not happily expecting, please bear in mind) and dealing with the slow, lingering crawl of the Grim Reaper to his bedside. This man, who bears the name of my beloved, whom I have visited as often as possible, is not the man I married. The man I married was intense, passionate about many things, but was not a mean spirited person. My husband was thoughtful and generous, often putting the needs of others before himself. He cared about other people. This man that I visit curses at other residents, often saying awful, hateful things about them. This stranger who telephones me is my beloved, my darling and my tormentor, all tied into one human.

It's obvious to me, he thinks if he comes home, he might die sooner, than later. I wouldn't be surprised if he has some not so ingenious plan hidden in the deepest corners of his befuddled mind, something devious which might even speed up the process. He knows that if he were at home, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to fall again, where he would only hurt himself further. Or perhaps he might "accidentally" take too much of his medicine, when left alone in his room for a potty break... who knows? All I am sure of, whether this fact makes me the evil bitch some might see me as, is I would rather continue dealing with the stress of driving so far to visit him, on my days off, than have him come home to die. I feel quite certain his life has been extended, thus far, because he's getting the round the clock care that I cannot give him at home. He wants to come home to die. I think he's being a selfish bastard for asking this of me. As much as I love him truly, I hope death comes more quickly for him, so that his misery might be ended.

For those of you who might be offended by my honesty, I shall not apologize. Feel free to wear my shoes, when you exit & take your bowel movements with you. To those of you with far more understanding, thank you, bless you & I miss you more than words can express. I'm so tired, kids... and it's not even December, yet!

D'Jever Have Days?

Yesterday morning, I woke up around 9 am, thinking I didn't have to be at work until noon. The phone rang at a quarter past 9, with one of my coworkers on the line. She asked me if I was okay & I responded with a puzzled yes. Then she asked me if I knew what time I was supposed to work... and laughed when I answered with a noon reply. Uhm... nope! Was supposed to be there at 9 a.m! Dang it! The entire day, at work, I was just sort of "out of it" and don't know why. My register kept futzing up on me, even when I did things right! The scanner constantly kept scanning produce incorrectly, even when I entered the correct produce code # into the register. At first I thought I was actually the one screwing up, each & every time, until another gal came in, a co-worker on her day off. She told me the machines had been acting loopy the night before, when she was working, so that helped me feel a tad better about it all.

Then today, on my way to go see Spouse, I was just coming over the top of a hill and saw a highway patrol trooper heading eastbound, in the opposite lane. I immediately took my foot off the gas and let the Jeep go into slow coast mode, but since I was now headed in a downhill direction, it made little difference. I watched him turn around, in my rear view mirror, then eventually pull up behind me with his pretty lights blinking blue & red. I stopped, turned off the vehicle and rolled down my window. After he checked my license, registration & insurance papers, he told me to go sit in his car with him.

He clocked me doing 77 in a 65 mph zone & I really couldn't argue, since I was sure he must have caught me doing the 80 mph that I saw on my speedometer at the top of the hill. That Jeep just sails, compared to the old Toylet and I have often caught myself going way faster than I mean to be going, since I got it. Going to have to watch that, from now on. I was so upset, though, about getting caught, about being such an idiot and even more so, knowing that my prayers weren't going to do any good with this guy. Try as hard as I might to hold my tears back, I began crying in his car. I was doing fine, until he asked where I was going in such a hurry. When I told him I was on my way to visit my husband, who was in the Redfield nursing home in Hospice Care (wouldn't you play every card you had, to get out of a ticket?), he then said that he'd hurry for me, so I could get on my way. Nice guy. He then had the gall to inquire why my husband was in a Redfield nursing home, since we live in Clark. I mentioned the VA put him there & there being no contract with the Clark facility, so we were at the VA's mercy. Nice trooper (with a tad too much cologne, btw) then asked me to offer his thanks to my veteran husband, for his service to our country. Yeah, right.

Now I have to either go to court & hope the judge will have some mercy on me, or else mail in the check for $109 for the ticket. That's just $12 less than what I got on my first paycheck! *sigh* Spouse wants me to fight it, plead my case before the judge. I know I was speeding & feel paying the ticket is the best way to go. Did I learn anything from this? Yep - I really need to slow down on the road, pay better attention. I realize that a mere ticket is probably a helluva lot cheaper than a hospital bill might be if I'd wrecked or something. I've got a few days before I have to either pay the ticket or show up in court to plead mercy. Should I pass the hat?

In the meanwhile, Spouse has had some friends from Washington visiting him today. Another friend of his is supposed to show up tomorrow. Maybe I'm weird, but since I don't really know these folks, I haven't invited them to stay here at the house. I am just not comfortable with the idea of them having to leave my home unlocked while they go do whatever. There's that and the fact that my dogs, Chikki & Muffin would bark non-stop at them, the entire time they were here, whether I was at home or at work. Plus, the house is a mess, since it's basically just a crash pad for me, between work and the Redfield roadtrips. I don't want the extra work of playing hostess at home, so I haven't opened my doors to his friends. Am I a cad for not sharing my home with these strangers that think so highly of my husband?

It would be different, if these folks had stayed in touch over the past ten years, while Spouse & I were married, but I only met them once at my wedding! That, to me, does not constitute a friendship, as far as I'm concerned. His other pals that have come to visit, some of them, at least, have always been welcome in our home, because I know them. They have stayed in contact, come for visits, telephoned with some frequency. I know they are used to the dogs and they would use extra caution when exiting, to keep my dogs from getting loose. I think the bottome line here is that I just don't want to have to straighten up the house for anyone, until I absolutely have to. I just don't have the energy or the time.

Speaking of time, I better get to bed, so I will be somewhat rested for work tomorrow. I don't have to be there until noon... I think.

an update

The new job is great! I come home from work very tired, very sore and feeling quite
productive. The first week, I only worked 3 days, which is fine by me. That gives me plenty of time to visit Spouse and get things done around the homestead. There has been a lot to learn, like certain codes to enter into the register for the produce, selling the lotto tickets and the like. Most of the customers are surprised to learn I've lived here for over 3 years, too. I'm learning which customers are favorites and the few who are chronically difficult to wait upon. My co-workers are a nice lot, mostly women my age, with the exception of a few school kids who work part-time evenings and weekends. I had no idea there was so much heavy work that goes on behind the scenes, too. On stock days, when the shipments come in, we must haul tons of foodstuffs from the back rooms of the store to the front, where we must quickly rotate the old stock to the front, clean the shelf and then put the newer supply in back, then restock the older goods. Rotate, kids! Rotate!

Since there's already a gal named Kim at the store, the bookkeeper has taken to calling me by a shorter derivative of my first name. THAT makes life interesting, as I am getting used to not responding when Kim is paged to come help check or do a courtesy *bagging and carry-out*. It's kind of funny, at least to me, how for years I've loved the name that I am now being known as at work. Always wished folks would call me by that, and now my wish is a fact. Cool, for me. :D

Spouse is holding his own, but has begun the slow, painful spiral downward again. He's now having good mornings and bad evenings. If I tell him something at night, I must tell him again the next morning or he won't remember it at all. He is having more and more pain, so much that they have doubled his phentanol patch and giving him morphine to help it cover the pain level he has. He's getting more & more agitated with some of the other residents at the nursing home, too. Not good, since he gets quite vocal about his irritations. It seems he has a level of paranoia, too, thinking the staff at the nursing home is "out to do him in". I've made friends with a few of the more cognizant residents who tell me that the staff is very attentive to my husband and he just seems to not understand when the staff is trying to be kind and helpful. Hence, I find myself apologizing to the staff at every turn, for his outbursts and rude accusations. They are very understanding, so that helps to alleviate some of my distress.

Got my Jeep back from the mechanics and it runs great now. The heater works *yeah!* and I'm glad to have such a road-worthy rig now. I plan on selling our Suburban, the pick-up truck and some of Spouse's tools. Anyone want to buy a lathe? The money I make from those sells, I'll apply toward my Jeep payments &/or other bills, so that I won't have the big money woes that I'd be facing, otherwise, once Spouse has passed. It sucks that he wasn't able to get some good insurance, but at least I am able to work, so things won't be quite as frightening as they might be if I couldn't. It's probably in bad taste to mention things like this, but it's my life & something that has been on my mind. My blog, too, so there ya go.

Now that I'm working at the grocery store, I've learned about another place that is hiring, constantly *there's a clue for ya*, but they have excellent benefits, plus. If I could get on there, for just two 12 hours shifts a week, I can receive full benefits, so I'm leaning very strongly in that direction. It's a government facility, so the pay would be excellent, in comparison to what I earn at the store, too. Very tempting. The only drawback is, the facility is at least 40+ miles from me, actually in the same town as the nursing home where Spouse currently resides. I wouldn't want to apply there until after he is gone, however, so that I will still have some days to spend with him. It feels as if time is racing faster and faster, especially now that I am working outside the home. Perhaps, it is because winter is fast looming upon us, with the days getting dark earlier and the cold winds rushing across the prairies.

We had our first snow of the season just two days ago, on Monday. Nothing to write home about, but it was still blustery & cold. I'm going to have to find a way to keep my neck warm, but still be dressed within the "uniform" of black slacks & white shirts. Turtleneck sweaters always feel like they are choking me *must've been hung or beheaded in a previous life... ;)* so I've got to come up with another solution. As long as I can keep my neck and back warm, the cold doesn't bother me. Once either gets a chill, though, I usually wind up with a horrid headache.

Anyways - I have to begin getting ready for work now, so that's it, in a large nutshell. I've gotten way behind on my alerts, so will probably have to just do a group delete & hope my friends understand. Once life settles down (it will, won't it?), maybe I can keep up again. I miss reading up on what's going on in everyone's lives and hope you all are doing well. I'll peek in when I can. And someday, I will figure out how to add a shoutbox, too. Someday... for now, I send you all hugs, loves and warm lurgles. Happy Turkey Day, too - if I don't see you before then!!

A Blog gone to the Dogs

I was just futzing around YouTube and ran across these vids. Both of them cracked me up, even though they are sooo different. The funny thing is, the second one has characters that make me think about some of my efx2blogs friends! You know who you are!!! ;) Enjoy!

Job Hunting

*note: had to delete & repost, in order to get rid of nearly 400 trackbackcrap things!*

Okay folks - now's a good time for anyone interested to send me all the positive energy and prayers you can muster, in re: my job hunting. A rare opening came up in the grocery store in town & I applied. I'm qualified and they know about my situation with Spouse. It would be a decent job and only 4ish miles from home. This job is one I think I'd enjoy, also, especially after my husband has passed on, because I'd get to know people in the community better.

So - light your candles, cross your fingers and legs and put in a good word for me with your Higher Power. I would really appreciate it... really, really. TIA

A Tearful Goodbye

It's been interesting, now that Spouse has been placed under Hospice Care at the nursing home, to see which friends of his have been coming to visit &/or call him. A couple of days ago, I had the pleasure of meeting two of his old Army buddies, friends he'd met way back in the late 60's, while stationed in Germany & Vietnam. I'd heard about one of his pals, "BC", off and on, over the past couple of years, when Spouse would open up about this escapade or that. We've exchanged Christmas cards and Spouse has yakked with him a few times this past decade, but I never realized how deep this friendship went until this past couple of days.

When I emailed "BC", to let him know about Spouse's condition & prognosis, the first thing he did was call me to find out if he could visit Spouse. Of course, I gave him the go-ahead, and he set his travel plans in place. He then got busy contacting a network of old wartime companions that Spouse had not heard from in years. These are friends that Spouse once kept in touch with, but had lost contact with, sadly. It's been nice for Spouse to get phone calls from these old & dear friends, especially those who have been "lost" for a few years. A few have sent cards and some have emailed me, so I can print up their messages and deliver to Spouse. These gestures have given a boost for my husband's stamina and attitude, something which I really appreciate.

While he was en route to come visit Spouse, "BC" stopped in Pheonix to meet up with another old Army bud, "T". The two of them continued toward our area together and were able to surprise Spouse, even trying to pull a funny prank on him when they arrived. Spouse knew "BC" was coming, but he was totally surprised to see "T" had gone to the trouble and expense to come along. The prank kind of failed, but it was funny, nonetheless. Something about "T" coming into the room behind "BC", wearing a doctor's smock, a stethescope and a ugly face mask, with rubber gloves on and telling Spouse it was time for another BOHICA *bend over, here it comes again* test. Spouse got 'em back good though and offered to drop his pants then & there.

The guys had a good visit, took Spouse & me out for dinner the first night, then they followed me to Clark, where they had a couple of rooms reserved. They did pretty good, keeping up with me on the muddy shortcut, but decided to go the longer route yesterday, when they went to visit Spouse again. I let the guys have the day to themselves and planned on staying home & maybe doing a bit of housework and relaxing. I got a call in the late morning, from Spouse, who informed me that they were coming to the house... surprise! It pissed me off, at first, mostly because I was still in my jammies, hadn't begun any of the housework yet and I was ashamed of how bad I've let the housework go these past couple of weeks. So I hung up on Spouse and jumped up to get busy. Thank God for Lysol spray, Swiffer mop thingies and scented candles! I managed to sweep & mop the floors, get a load of laundry in the washer and got some counter space cleaned off before they arrived.

Of course, they said they didn't care about how the house looked, but maybe they were just being nice. I usually don't care if someone's house is messy, especially if I know their plate is full, but I do care about what folks think about how my house looks. Am I whacked or what? They stuck around for about an hour, until Spouse said he needed to go back, because he was feeling sick. He collapsed on the deck, as he was exiting the back door, but I was holding one of his arms and was able to help him "fall softly", so that he didn't get hurt when he landed. His buddies carefully lifted him to his feet and we got him to their rental van.

It warms my heart to see these grown men, all so strong and macho in their youth, treat my husband with such gentleness and respect. They didn't bat an eye, when they saw Spouse pack a couple of extra "Depends" in the pouch on his walker. They freely gave me hugs and made every effort to include me in the conversation. So, this morning, when they had to say their final goodbyes, and we all know this is the last time they will be together as a group, Spouse was shaking and trying, in vain, to avoid tears as he thanked them for coming so far, just to see him. I looked at "BC", who was biting a trembling lip and blinking back tears, as he reached to hug Spouse, for the last time. "T" was doing a bit better at hiding his emotions, cracking a silly joke one last time, but I was able to recognize this as a facade, a brave face. His eyes spoke the truth, even though his lips were smiling, as they began to pool up a bit.

After they left the room and headed for the parking lot, Spouse broke down and cried in my arms. It was such a touching farewell and it made me think about these grown men later, when I'd gotten home. They have been friends since 1968, longer than some of my blog friends have been alive. That's 39 years of knowing and caring about someone who fought many of the same battles. Their post-army days took them in different directions, different occupations, but they remained friends all of these years. I cannot imagine the memories they share, but am feeling very, very fortunate to have witnessed this kind of friendship in my lifetime, even if it was something of Spouse's to have and not my own. I am even more in awe of the man my husband is, has been and will continue to be, long after he has passed.

Perhaps he is not as famous as your average movie star, the best politicians the world has known or some of the more memorable legends we all hear about, but he has touched the lives of so many different people in this world. This special visit of his friends helped me to understand the depth of how wonderful my beloved truly has been and continues to be. One of his more favorite quotes has always been, "I ain't much, but I'm all I think about." When he asked me to marry him, I had no idea that I was committing myself in marriage to a living legend, but that is a truth none can deny. Yes, he had his character flaws, but the qualities far outshine them. Ask anyone who really knows Spouse. I'm betting they'd kick the ass of anyone who declares anything different.

Blessings to "BC" & "T", for taking time out of their busy lives and work to bring some joy to Spouse. I salute you both.

The Golden Needle

Katy shoved the door shut with her heel, grasping to maintain her hold on the bags of groceries, the mail and her purse. A bead of sweat glistened on her brow, impossible to wipe away, as she struggled with the bulky load. Blowing up at the drop that threatened to flood her eye, she set the bags on the kitchen table. Living alone, with only her cat and three dogs to keep her company, Katy had long given up speaking aloud very often. It seemed the animals were empathic to her moods and they communicated mostly in facial gestures, affectionate cuddles and body language. It had been a couple of weeks since she'd had a conversation with another human being, and most of her friendships were now with people she'd met online. Ever since Lucy had passed away, it just seemed easier and far less painful than to work on face-to-face relationships. Her favorite place to visit was a message board that was frequented by a lot of quilting enthusiasts across the nation.

Pulling a chair away from the table, she absentmindedly stroked Loopy's head, as he nuzzled into her lap. She picked up the stack of mail, thumbing through to see what had come that day. Removing the regular bills from the pile to place in the outgo tray on her desk, she noticed an envelope that was a bit different from the rest of the mail. Katy set the bills aside and studied this envelope with curiosity. There was no return address and the contents felt rather mushy. With a silent laugh, she couldn't help but wonder if this was some credit card gimmick she hadn't seen before and opened the envelope.

Slowly Katy peered into the depths of the yellow envelope and was amazed to see what lay inside. Ever so gently, she pulled the contents from their simple yellow boundaries and laid them on the table separately. Again, she turned the envelope over to see if there was any way to determine the sender. The postmark was smudged so she had no clues there. "Well, well," thought Katy to herself, "This is certainly a credit card gimmick I can live with!" It startled her to hear her own chuckle in the quiet house. Simply replying with please or thank you had sufficed well enough at the checkout when she did venture into town for supplies. Mrs. Bumphry leapt onto the table to investigate the spread out bounty on the table then moved toward the sack of groceries.

With a sigh, Katy carefully returned the gifts to the envelope and got about the business of putting the canned goods in the pantry. She was careful to make sure the mysterious envelope would not be in danger of her inquisitive cat's destructive claws. More than once, Lucy had telephoned her with outrageous stories about Mrs. Bumphry shredding a bill that arrived in the mail. The dogs seemed to tolerate Mrs. Bumphry well enough, much to Katy's relief. Loopy, her old yellow Labrador even went so far as to tolerate the cat's occasional tendencies to groom him. She really believed the old coot secretly reveled in the personal attention, though his pride would never allow him to publicly display any appreciation. Still, Katy was glad to adopt the silly feline, knowing she would have surely gone to the pound after Lucy's will left no instructions or special requests for Mrs. Bumphry's care. But then, they both, she and Lucy, had assumed they'd live long and relatively happy lives, never suspecting the cancer that was slowly weaving itself through Lucy's marrow. The diagnosis came as a shock and Katy was still filled with anger that Lucy had chosen to accept the doctors' prognosis of only a few months to "get her affairs in order".

Shaking her head, as if to toss these painful memories to the back of her mind, Katy opened a tin of food for the cat. She filled the dish and set it atop the microwave oven to keep it out of the dogs' reach. Trying to be quiet, she scooped the dry kibbles from the container that held the dog's chow and filled the three bowls. Checking their water dishes, she was satisfied that it was a good time to get back to that strange envelope that arrived today.

Pouring a tall glass of iced tea and vigorously stirring in the two heaping spoons of sugar she always added, Katy wondered who could have sent her something so special. More importantly, why would anyone have sent her something this nice without telling her whom it came from? Try as she might, not a name came to mind of who might have been so generous and so anonymous. With her iced tea in one hand and the envelope in her other, Katy walked to the bay window in the small cottage living room and settled into the comfortable old rocking chair that Lucy had left to her. It was a chair she had loved to sit in when she visited Lucy and it was the chair she'd pulled up next to the bed where Lucy spent her last weeks of life.

Katy had rocked in the chair for hours, reading the quilting catalogs to her dear friend, describing the new lines of fabric, filling in the order blanks with requests for fabrics and notions. Orders that were never mailed, because she knew they might not arrive before Lucy would ever see or touch them. Instead, Katy started visiting the local quilt guild and asked the members, whom Lucy always spoke so highly of, for a tremendous favor. They were wonderful about loaning Katy the newest yards and fat quarters, so she could take them to Lucy to touch and see. Katy would pre-wash the fabric, just as Lucy had taught her, and then take her time to meticulously iron each piece. She thought it was rather odd that Lucy would find the smell of the hot iron and the sizing on the damp fabric comforting, but it seemed a little thing to do for her friend. The quilters from the guild didn't seem to mind getting their fabric back all ready for piecing much either, so the plan worked out for everyone's benefit.

She smiled to herself, remembering how the ladies would come to visit Lucy and exclaim their jealousy of her wonderful stash of fabric! She was so proud of those great women, hiding the secret of the fabric so well and trying to boost her spirits when they knew her heart was being ripped apart. She recalled the many times a few of the guild ladies would bring their latest projects asking Lucy's advice as to what quilting she recommended, which thread color to use, and if she would ever share her recipe for that decadent fudge of hers. Katy marveled at the secret language those quilters spoke and the marvelous gift Lucy had for setting everyone at ease, even when the pain was so excruciating. The camaraderie of these special ladies drew Katy's curiosity about quilting further and further in. Soon, they had her working stitches in scraps of their fabric, learning how to fashion simple blocks by hand. Lucy beamed at Katy with such pride when she saw the first friendship star Katy made.

The tall glass of tea sparkled as the evening sun shone through the window and Katy's attention returned to the surprise in her lap. Lucy would have called it a "Serendipity-gram" and frequently received such things in the mail. In the years of their friendship, Katy had observed Lucy opening these things and squealing with delight when a wonderful card, a piece of fabric, a tiny book of prose tumbled onto her sewing table. It had always amused her how incredibly insane Lucy would get when it came to fabric, quilting or anything related. It amazed her they had even become friends! She fondly thought about the day they had bumped into each other outside of their favorite shops, which were side by side. Both of them had exited the quilt shop and antique store, arms laden with their latest purchases and walked into the other with an incredible bang of noise and confusion! All around them on the sidewalk was a pile of musty old tins, spools of colorful threads, brilliant billows of fabric and a shower of the old Broadway sheet music Katy loved. The explosion of their collision was such a shock and the expression each of their faces bore caused them to laugh at the entire calamity. Katy remembered the two of them sitting amidst the pile of chaos, laughing so hard her cheeks hurt. Rising, they had dusted themselves off, picked up the purchases and tearfully laughed apologies to the other. Katy had gone home from there, and smiled at the little bruise her ego had endured. The following morning her telephone rang and it didn't take long for her to realize who the caller was. Lucy introduced herself and mentioned she'd found Katy's credit card receipt in one of her packages, looked her up in the phone book and would she like to come for tea and get it? Katy accepted the invitation, wrote the directions to Lucy's and so began a wonderful seventeen years of friendship.

Smiling to herself again at these pleasant memories, Katy pulled the contents of the envelope out. Within the confines of the yellow paper were three items, each carefully wrapped in a pretty tissue paper. Her hands trembled with anticipation as she carefully unfolded the delicate wrapping around the most obvious of the gifts. Katy gasped at the beauty of the colors, gently stroking the carefully folded fabric. It was the fabric she had admired, along with Lucy, when they had gone through the catalogs together. This was one line of fabric that none of the guild ladies had purchased yet, although many agreed it was a prize worth obtaining. Katy grinned to herself and looked around the living room, as if to see if anyone might be watching. It was at that moment she realized Lucy had infected her with the addiction to fabric and she began to wonder what she could make with the delicious Color Bridge fabrics in her lap. Katy marveled at how much prettier the fabrics were than they showed in the catalogs. Feelings of joy, mixed with excitement began to bubble up inside of her and it was all she could do to stay seated. Giving in to the joy a little, she held tightly to the treasures upon her lap and let her feet do the happy dance she'd seen Lucy do when she found her perfect focus fabric. Katy finally let go with a squeal of delight that caused the animals to come running in her direction, tails wagging and barking with frenzy. Laughing at the dogs, Katy spoke to them in as calm a voice as she could muster, reassuring them that she was okay. It had been so long since she'd felt that sort of happiness and her throat ached a little from the squeal she released. The animals lay near her feet carefully avoiding the runners of the rocking chair and settled down to keep a close eye on their mistress. Katy sipped the iced tea and set the glass back on the steamer trunk that served its purpose as a table under the bay window.

Carefully setting the fabric back within the layers of tissue paper, she laid it on the trunk, away from the glass of tea. She was cautious to make sure it wasn't exposed to the beams of sunlight and looked to see where naughty Mrs. Bumphry might be hiding. The last thing she wanted now was for that goofy cat to shred her prize fabric! Of course, Lucy had told her the odd cat had never destroyed the fabric or quilts, but would purr contentedly for hours atop a pile of half square triangles. She never figured out why her cat would shred the bills and not the packages from the quilt shop, but then in the small village they lived near, the utility companies were quite familiar with some of Lucy's eccentricities. Lucy used to swear the cat did her damage to the bills so that she would have to take the short trek to town to pay her bills in person, just so she'd get plenty of exercise.

Still, Katy didn't want to risk Mrs. Bumphry taking exception to the new stash she'd just received. The stash she did have wasn't very big, mostly because she really knew very little about quilting and had given almost all of Lucy's fabric to the friends from the quilt guild. Each of the ladies had insisted Katy keep some and invited her to start coming to the meetings to learn more about the time-honored craft. With every bundle of fabric she handed to the various guild members, she was handed in return a fat quarter of this, a couple of yards of that. The ladies stubbornly told her she was going to need it someday and refused to let her hand any back. Katy hadn't gone to any of the guild meetings after the funeral and had kept herself isolated. Her work allowed her the freedom to avoid people since she did telecommuting on her computer. Many mornings she didn't even dress for the day, instead sat in front of the monitor in her flannel pajamas until her work for the day was complete. It had only been this last week that she had noticed her haggard appearance in the mirror and started to work on taking better care of herself. She knew deep within that her friend would never approve of how badly Katy had let herself go. She could imagine Lucy shaking a finger in her direction, scolding her for not eating right, not doing something with her hair. It was easy to hear Lucy's voice in her mind telling her off, "Katy girl, if you were the last thread on earth, the way you look now, I'd never use you on a quilt! So go fix yourself up right this minute!"

Reaching down to pet her smallest dog, Boombottom, she still had no idea where her friend had come up with his name. Boombottom had come to Katy's door one day and never left. He looked like a hot dog with a stumpy tail, the funniest looking dog she'd ever seen. He soon warmed his way into her heart, however, and in no time at all, was sleeping at the foot of her bed. His face was a constant in the bay window whenever she came home from a trip to town. The first time Lucy had come over to see the new addition to Katy's family, she called him Boombottom and the name stuck. It wasn't the most regal of names, but then this wasn't a very regal dog, either. It was apparent he loved Lucy and the feelings were quite mutual. Anytime she came by he would excitedly yap and run in circles with his stump fanning the air like a short propeller. Lucy's lap was always his favorite place to sit, but she refused Katy's offer to take the dog home with her. Her reason was if nothing else, the dog served as a great excuse for her to come to Katy's house for a healthy dose of unconditional love. To this day, Katy still questioned whether Lucy had placed the dog on her doorstep.

Boombottom's tail gave a feeble wag when she touched him and it was obvious to her that he missed his friend, Lucy, as much as she missed her. Katy scratched under his chin, chiding herself for not paying more attention to his grief. He lifted his head and the tail moved in a happy thump - thump on the hardwood floor. With a sigh that sounded to Katy like contentment, he rested his head on her foot, while the stumpy tail continued in its metronome beat on the worn oak boards. She lifted the envelope and reached in for the next bundle of tissue wrapped treasure. This was small and tied with a bit of purple satin ribbon. Seeing the ribbon reminded her of the purple bows Lucy would don upon her shoulder before she left for quilt shows. When Katy inquired about the purple bow, Lucy told her that was how her quilting buddies recognized each other. Katy recalled all the purple bows that were worn on the shoulders of the mourners at Lucy's funeral. In any other circumstance, Katy would have thought the adornment was ridiculous, but knowing the significance behind the bows touched her heart. After the graveside services, each of the women had silently placed their bow atop the beautiful mahogany casket, some wiping tears from their cheeks. She wasn't surprised to see so many at the funeral, though. Lucy had that sort of effect on people, a way of making each feel special and always acknowledging the talents and gifts anyone had. Katy wondered if she was odd to think Lucy's funeral was, perhaps, the nicest she'd ever been to.

She untied the purple ribbon and opened the paper bundle. Inside was a small envelope with the letters "V.Q.Q.G." scribbled on it. Carefully, she untucked the flap of the envelope to see what lay within. A key and a needle that appeared to be gold were all the envelope contained. The brass key looked as ordinary as any door key she'd seen before, but the reason it was sent to her had her baffled. Removing the needle and turning it over in her hand, she saw at once it was ornamental, with delicate engravings on one side. She knew enough from the days spent around Lucy's bed with the guild ladies that this couldn't be used for sewing of any kind. This was exquisite and she knew it must be special. Katy took a minute to wrap the needle with a piece of the tissue paper, then inserted it with the key, back into the tiny envelope. The mystery behind the key and golden needle intrigued her immensely. She hoped the final tissue wrapped packet provided answers to her questions. The tiny envelope was set upon the fabric to her left on the steamer trunk and she shook the final packet to hear if it rattled. Nothing except the crinkling of the paper that held it together.

The grandmother clock in the dining room chimed, reminding Katy it was near her dinner hour. Stretching as she rose from the chair, she picked up the fabric, placing it in a drawer until she could wash and include it in her small stash. The tiny envelope was returned to its larger host and she strolled toward the kitchen with it and the unopened tissue. Stopping just in view of the kitchen doorway, Katy froze in horror! Covering the entire floor, from wall to wall, were little shreds of paper. Sitting on the chair Katy had pulled out from under the small kitchen table earlier was Mrs. Bumphry, daintily preening. Katy glanced at the spot where she had set the bills aside and saw the pile missing. Why hadn't she heard any noise from the kitchen? She knew she couldn't blame the cat, not with the reputation that followed her. Katy knelt to pick up the tattered bits of paper, trying to match the portions of each bill with its companions. It was useless for her to attempt it. Glancing at Mrs. Bumphry's smug expression, all she could do was laugh. She knew it wouldn't be long before the utility companies in town were thinking a bit of Lucy had rubbed off on her after all those years. Katy made a mental note of which utilities she would have to pay in person on her next trip to town. Cringing, she realized it would require an explanation and she'd have to actually have a conversation. It certainly wouldn't do to walk up to the clerk and say, "How much? Cat ate the bill."!

Katy laid the yellow envelope and the last item to open in the microwave, closing the door. This was not a toy for Mrs. Bumphry and the microwave was a safe place for now. She swept the bills onto the dustpan and shook them into the paper bin under the sink. Looking into the fridge for something for dinner, her choices were a piece of cold chicken and some salad she'd made yesterday. Mrs. Bumphry jumped to the floor as Katy nudged herself on to the chair, and walked to her soft pillow in the corner of the living room. The salad and chicken took little time to consume, and Katy wanted to get that last item opened. She rinsed her plate and set it in the sink to be washed later.

She retrieved everything from the microwave and returned to the rocking chair. The sun had almost set by now, so Katy pulled the little chain to the tall lamp beside her chair. A soft glow shone over her shoulder and she pulled the grandmother's flower garden lap quilt around her shoulders. The quilt was beautiful, a gift to her from Lucy several years ago. Many of the flowers for the quilt had been crafted in the very rocking chair she now sat in. Lucy had carried a pouch for months that was always full of paper templates and scraps of fabric, some thread and needles, never revealing to Katy the project was for her. Katy had been speechless when she opened the box to discover the completed quilt Lucy gave to her. The label on the back of the quilt, embroidered in lovely pastels, had Lucy's name and the date she finished it, along with its title. Lucy had named this fine handiwork, "Katy's Forever Hug" and told her it was for the days the weather kept them apart and she needed a boost.

Again comfortable in the rocking chair, she lifted the tissue slowly. Lying neatly inside was a letter, folded in half. The stationary was familiar to her and her throat felt dry. The stationary was the same her old friend had used for years and Katy suddenly was afraid to read the letter. She glanced at the glass of tea on the trunk where it had been left, no longer iced, and took a sip anyway. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the tea glass on the trunk once more. The letter seemed to beckon her to unfold and read it. The faint fragrance of Shalimar scented the letter, causing goose bumps to rise on Katy's arms. This was the only perfume Lucy had worn the entire seventeen years she'd known her. She knew Lucy had allergies to many fragrances, but this was one she could wear without reactions. Unless, of course, one counted the time the two of them had that perfume battle at the department store!

The images of that memory still had the power to trigger convulsions of laughter in Katy. Lucy had wanted new shoes to wear to some quilt retreat and invited Katy to join her. They often went on shopping excursions together, though Katy knew little about quilting and Lucy saw no sense in paying outrageous prices for old things that were probably in someone's trash at one time. They had just simply enjoyed being in each other's company. Katy had been trying on a pair of sandals, to replace the pair Ima Dogtu, her only purebred canine companion, had destroyed in a teething frenzy. Katy truly thought Lucy had suggested the footwear binge out of guilt feelings, since she had convinced Katy her life would be incomplete without the adorable little blond cocker spaniel. Ima had ravaged no less than four pair of shoes, one half of a purse and several objects that were unidentifiable before she and Katy had completed puppy kindergarten.

As Katy leaned over to fasten the sandals to her feet, she felt the cool moisture on her back before realizing Lucy was standing behind her. Her often-mischievous friend was vainly attempting to hide something behind her back, as she struggled to maintain her composure. In seconds Katy had a subtle hint about Lucy's behavior. Lucy bellowed with laughter when Katy's own expression turned from quizzical to astonishment to shock. As Katy stood to peer over her shoulder to survey how much damage had been done to her blouse, Lucy collapsed into a nearby chair. She held the tester bottle of Shalimar to her chest, shaking vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks. Horrified at how aromatic she now was, Katy marched toward Lucy, demanding the bottle of perfume. She snatched the bottle from Lucy, who was powerless from her laughing to stop Katy. With the bottle in hand, Katy turned toward the perfume counter, her head held as high as she could, but unable to walk away from the fragrance that permeated the air around her. She stopped in her tracks, and lunged in Lucy's direction. In a swift movement, the front of Lucy's dress was saturated with the perfume! Katy relished the experience of observing Lucy's face go through the same changes her own had only moments ago. Satisfied, she walked to the perfume counter with the nearly empty and returned it to the tray with the other tester bottles. A clerk behind the counter approached Katy, as she was setting the bottle down, wearing the plastic smile seen on so many of the clerks in this department. As she neared the umbrella of Shalimar around Katy, the clerk began to cough, excusing herself repeatedly as she inquired whether there was anything she could help Katy with. Katy considered asking if the clerk could suggest a perfume removal spray, but instead declined with a smile and walked back to Lucy.

The real fun began as they walked through the mall in the direction of the car, which they'd parked at the opposite end of the building. Both ladies were lavishly drenched in the perfume, often drawing strange looks, glares and the odd comment as they strolled slowly past the vendors stationed within the center of the promenade. Katy and Lucy repeatedly stopped, paralyzed with bouts of laughter as the occasional passerby hacked or gawked in their direction, in reaction to the exaggerated swing Lucy added to her stride. Eventually, they made it to the car, driving to Lucy's house, where they took turns showering and changed into unscented clothes.

Distracted from her thoughts by Loopy's whimper, Katy stood up with the letter and walked to the front door to let the dogs out for their evening environmental impact statement. She flicked the porch light on and went to the screened door, peering through the mesh to be sure the front gate was securely fastened. Boombottom, Ima, and Loopy exited the screened-in porch through the doggy door built into one of the outer walls. She settled onto the hanging swing, arranged a pillow behind her back and inhaled deeply. She unfolded the letter and began to read. It was typewritten, and she was puzzled about the date at the top. It had today's date and the signature at the bottom was a shaky version of her friend's elegant penmanship. Confused, she resumed reading...

"My Dearest Katy Girl,

The most difficult part about letting go, at the end of my illness, was the knowing that the best friend I'd ever known would suffer grief in my parting. You may never know, I doubt, how deeply indebted I am to you. How do I thank the one who is more like a sister than any other I've known in my life? For all the days and nights you stayed at my side, during my final days, I cannot express my gratitude with words. Your devotion to my care was a comfort and the tears you shed when you believed me sleeping were cherished. Can you ever forgive me for putting you through such a horrid ordeal?

I do hope you are well and doing something with your hair, as you learn to adjust to life, minus my existence. Please cling to and find joy in each day, remembering every precious moment we shared as friends. As my friend, you taught me so much, for which I will eternally be grateful. Your friendship led me to appreciate the beauty of music long forgotten by many. How long has it been, beloved friend, since you played your soundtrack to My Fair Lady and danced around your garden as the speakers blared for the world to hear? If it has been awhile, I pray you'll find reason to dance again soon. You constantly amazed me with your gift of restoration, whether it involved bringing new life to an old armoire you found at Gracie's Antique Shoppe or the many sheets of music you learned to play on those lovely summer evenings. How I admired your ability to play so well!

In turn, I am grateful for your patience with my passion for needle and thread, all that the lust for fabric entailed. Beautiful Katy Girl, I do hope you weren't insufferably bored with my constant going on about
quilts and such. I was thrilled to see you joining my guild friends when they came to call. Keep up the practice with your stitches and you'll see you have that gift as well. You are a natural born quilter dear, so please do not ever stop. You will find there is medicinal value in the craft; all healthy if one ignores the addictive nature sometimes observed. Your natural talent for creating beauty from scraps will grow. My hope is someday, someday soon, you'll collide into a new friend and fashion a special quilt to hug her on the days she needs it most.

Now, my dear, you are probably wondering why & how this letter has arrived today, as well as the other things that came with it! If you have not dawdled too many days before reading this, then tomorrow should be Saturday. The key and the golden needle are very special to the Valley of Quaint Quilt Guild. They will be meeting tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. and it is imperative that you deliver these two items to the Bee Queen Bee!! Because I have always been able to trust you to help me in every emergency, arrangements were made, long before my passing for these to be delivered to you prior to this meeting. Please dear Katy Girl, I ask that you make haste to the morning meeting, when all will be explained. Obviously, I must thank you in advance!

Do not waste too many days grieving my departure, but instead try to live a life that will honor the days we shared as friends. Remember to smile, to laugh, to listen to others and share your heart. Keep a part of me there and I will never be forever gone, dear. I have loved you for many years; a love that time nor distance can never dissolve. If God ever grants me the opportunities, from where, hopefully, I now abide, I will send you evidence of ~

All my LOVE,
Lucy"

Katy lowered the letter to her lap, dazed by the words and her lips trembled. Clenching her fists, she drew her legs toward her chest, lowered her head to her knees and began to cry. The sound of her deep wrenching sobs brought the dogs scurrying through their special door to her side. With a whine, Loopy clambered onto the swing near her feet and leaned into her legs. Ima and Boombottom sat side by side, gazing up to Katy, tilting their heads in unison. Darkness had crept outside the span of the porch light's amber tint and an evening breeze whispered through the screens. The night echoed her mourning song, as her heart and soul released the emotions long buried since the day Lucy had been laid to rest.

Katy awoke the following morning to Mrs. Bumphry's tail swishing under her nose. She attempted to rise but found herself pinned beneath the raggedy quilt she'd purchased at a yard sale three summers ago. Her dogs surrounded her, cocooned within the coverings on the wrought iron poster bed. She was unsure of when she'd finally moved from the swing on the porch to the comfort of her bed, but she knew it had been very late. Turning her head and peering through the wisps of Mrs. Bumphry's tail, she glanced at the clock sitting on the bedside table. The urge to grab just ten more minutes of sleep was strong. It was Saturday and her telecommuting work was caught up. Mrs. Bumphry stood up, stretched and sauntered over to Loopy, who was lying across Katy's legs. Glad the two smaller dogs didn't weigh as much as Loopy, she wrestled her arms free from her confinement to brush her disheveled, long auburn hair from her face. Glancing at the clock, Katy saw it was nearly 8:40. Still somewhat groggy, Katy sat up and nudged Loopy from her legs, then swung them over the side of the bed. She searched the floor with her toes for her slippers, finally sliding them into the comfy chenille scuffs. Stretching her arms as she meandered down the hallway toward the front door, Katy took a sideways glance at herself in the mirror above the small deacon's bench.

"Oh, if Lucy could see this wreck!" Katy thought to herself and stopped suddenly. Lucy. The letter. The meeting at nine!

Quickly she opened the front door for the dogs so they could exit for relief and bolted back towards the bedroom. Opening the drawer in the bedside table, she grabbed the letter from Lucy and the tiny envelope which contained the key and the gold needle. She put the items in her purse and ran to the bathroom to hurry through her morning routine. No time for a shower, she washed her face and hastily ran a comb through her curly locks. Swishing her toothbrush in the mouthwash bottle, she eliminated the fuzzy taste from her mouth, then ran to the kitchen to feed her animals. Swiftly, she washed then filled the water and food dishes, setting them in opposite corners of the kitchen. Mrs. Bumphry's dishes were barely placed atop the microwave oven when the huge cat jumped up to begin her breakfast. Katy was feeling frantic, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall to see it was now 8:55. It was at least a ten-minute drive to the village and she still needed to change from the tattered T-shirt she favored sleeping in. She blazed down the hall to throw on a pair of bib overalls and her sandals. As she tucked the T-shirt into the overalls, she hoped no one at the guild meeting would comment on her attire.

"If nothing else, maybe the ladies will say I'm a trendsetter." Katy chuckled to herself. She headed out the front door, sure to lock the screened porch behind her. The dogs followed her to the gate with their tennis balls and rope toys gripped in their jaws, ready to play. "Not now, kids. Be good and watch the house. I'll be home as soon as I run this errand." Katy spoke into the wind, as she drove away in her old Jeep.

The door to the grange meeting hall was left slightly ajar and she hesitated before pushing it open enough to walk in. Katy's heart was pounding and she was unsure of how the women here would receive her. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and she realized she was shaking terribly. "Why am I feeling this way?" she wondered. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold and into the foyer. The grange hall was a familiar building to her, having been here for many quilt shows and local craft fairs with Lucy. Her feet automatically turned toward the direction of the stairs that led to the large dining room in the basement. The Village of Quaint Quilt Guild met here every other Saturday morning for their business meetings and quilting bees. Hearing voices rising up the stairway, she tried to walk as quietly as possible on the squeaky old steps. She knew there was one particular step that screamed in agony whenever anyone landed on the right side of it and desperately wanted to avoid it. The voices in the basement stopped speaking as soon as the traitorous step gave away her arrival. Someone giggled as another hollered to her, "Just git yerself down here, honey, whoever ya are! We don't bite nothin' here but fudge!" Katy recognized the voice immediately and felt some of the tension fade. Squaring her shoulders, she plastered an artificial smile on her face and clomped down the remaining stairs for effect. If she was going to make a fool of herself, she figured she ought to do it right!

The room was large, filled with long cafeteria-style dining tables and old wooden folding chairs. A row of antique theater seats lined the length of two of the walls and some were piled with jackets, sweaters and handbags. A few held various boxes, which contained secret quilters' treasures to be revealed at Show and Tell. The women who knew Katy welcomed her with a chorus of greetings. Chairs scraped on the floor as many stood and hurried to wrap her in warm, friendly hugs. Katy felt a lump beginning to grow in her throat and squeaked a feeble hello in return. The last thing she'd expected was such a hearty welcome, since these kind ladies only knew her from the last few months at Lucy's home. She felt her eyes beginning to well up and fought the tears that threatened to give away her feelings of confusion, loneliness and insecurity. A chair was offered to her, which she gratefully accepted. The ladies around her were smiling and grinning, some nudging a neighbor here and there, and a couple winked at her as their heads nodded in her direction. A younger girl, perhaps eight or nine years old, set a napkin and a cup of apple-chamomile tea in front of her. She offered Katy a plate covered with a mound of home-baked goodies and fudge. Katy's stomach growled as she smelled the chocolate and gladly took a blueberry muffin, as well as a wedge of fudge to settle the rumbles.
"Alright gals! Let's settle back down to business here!" The woman speaking, Katy recognized as Judy, otherwise referred to in the guild as the Bee Queen Bee. Judy peered over her glasses to Katy and smiled with as royal a welcome as she could. "For those of you here, who have not met our esteemed guest, I'd like to introduce to you Katy. She is the special gal who helped our dear departed friend, Miss Lucy, in her time of illness. I know a bit about this fine lady from the good things Lucy shared with me, over the years. If memory serves me correctly, Katy is with us today for a very good reason. Katy, would you like to say a few words before I go on?"

Surprised by the introduction and smiling with a mouthful of muffin, Katy nodded as she swallowed, then took a sip from the tea. She blushed as she reached for her purse and removed the tiny envelope and Lucy's letter. An older woman across the table from her gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes widened. Katy looked around her at the guild members, hearing the murmurs that circulated among them. "I, er, uh... ahem. I would like to thank those of you who were so kind in coming to visit Lucy when she was sick. It meant a great deal to her to be surrounded by her quilting friends when she could no longer get around. I am grateful, also, to those of you who cared for her those times it was necessary for me to run errands, get groceries or fill her prescriptions. Without your help and support then, I don't know what I would have done. Lucy always spoke well of each of you and I want you to know she treasured your friendships."

Katy paused and opened the tiny envelope, removing the key and the beautiful gold needle. Holding them up for all to see, she continued, "Yesterday I got a mushy package in the mail, with no return address, containing some fabric, these two items and a letter to me from Lucy with yesterday's date on it. The letter stated that all of this mystery would be revealed if I came here today. Could someone please offer me an explanation?" She saw her hands were still shaking and sat in her seat again, waiting to hear a reply.

Judy stood again, raising her hand to quiet the buzzing comments that flowed between the guild members. "Katy, we hope you can forgive the mystery and the shock you must have endured because of the letter in the package. We call those packages squishies, because that is how they feel with the fabric in them. I'm sure you must have seen Lucy with a few squishies during your friendship?" Katy nodded and Judy went on, "During the times we were visiting and you got a break for yourself, even if it was only to come to town for supplies, Lucy requested our help. It was her idea to be sure the squishie was mailed to you so that it would be delivered yesterday. Please forgive our little conspiracy here, but it was important you come today. The golden needle has a very special heritage among our guild members. Before our guild secretary, Maria, tells you about that, I'll ask each member to accept responsibility for her part in this whole scheme. Ladies, if you'll please stand and introduce yourself to Katy, then help her put the puzzle together?" Judy reclaimed her position at the head of the first table and gave a regal parade wave to encourage the women to begin.

One by one, the women stood and did as Judy had requested. Katy was amazed to hear their contributions to ensure Lucy's plan was successful. Anne had ordered the Color Bridge fabric on Lucy's behalf, making sure the order was safely wrapped in acid free tissue paper. Wendy snuck the parcel of fabric to Lucy when she'd brought some patterns to show Lucy. Sally purchased the envelope and made sure Laura delivered it stealthily to Lucy. Elly wrote the letter that Lucy had dictated, Dawn typed it and Roxie returned it so it could be signed by Lucy. Tracy, whom Katy knew from Butch's grocery store, admitted to purposefully detaining her with lots of questions about Lucy and how she was getting along, so the others would have time to tie everything together. Cher grinned as she told how she had arranged with Postmaster Matt to mail the squishie on the appropriate date and be sure the postmark was smudged well beyond legibility. Almost every person in the room had some part in the ploy and Katy was soon chuckling as the confessors revealed their secrets.

Eventually they were done sharing their involvement and Maria arose from her chair. She walked around the table to stand behind Katy. Placing her hands on Katy's shoulders, she began to narrate the history of the golden needle that lay on the table next to the key and tiny white envelope. "Our region was first homesteaded in the early 1860's. Life was difficult then and the women of the area had to be very resourceful when it came to having nice things for their homes. One of the ways they were able to decorate their homes was by creating beautiful quilts, often out of scraps of fabric from worn out clothing. During that time, a young woman from England moved here with her husband and children. Before she left her wealthy family and the life of luxury she had always known, her grandmother commissioned a jeweler to create a special needle for her as a reminder of days they had shared quilting together in England. The grandmother had taught this young lady everything she knew about the craft and encouraged the young lady to continue the tradition of passing the craft on. This young woman was May Tristan, a name you might be familiar with if you have ever visited Tristan Square in town."

Katy turned her head to see who interrupted Maria with a hoot of laughter. "Isn't that where that fancy tourist lost her overbeckies in the middle of the street last year?"

Giggling, Maria replied, "Yes, Kathy. Thanks ever so much for reminding us!" and went on with her narrative. "May taught her skills with needle and thread to her daughter, who then taught her own daughter. This daughter, Terrie, was one of the founding members of the Valley of Quaint Quilt Guild. She had inherited the golden needle you see in front of you, as it was passed from generation to generation, along with a love for quilting. For a time, it seemed quilting was going to be a lost art, so Terrie met with the few members of the guild and they set a pact among themselves. You can read about this in detail, if you check out our club archives, but I'll tell you the basics in a nutshell. They determined to mentor young women in the area and keep the passion for quilting alive. When a young woman was discovered to be, as we call it, a "natural born quilter", she would inherit the golden needle and be given the responsibility to find, mentor and qualify her successor. In all the years since the Valley of Quaint Quilt Guild has been established, none have refused the Quilter's Scepter, as we call the golden needle, nor have they refused the responsibility that goes along with it." Finished with her speech, Maria squeezed Katy's shoulder affectionately and returned to her seat.

Judy stood again and asked Katy to stand and bring the golden needle to the head of the table. Katy was obviously stunned and pondered whether she should bolt for the door. Instead, she complied and walked toward Judy, her head swimming as she digested what she had just heard. When she reached the head of the table, Judy wrapped her arms around Katy, giving her a gentle hug. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she drew away and she smiled warmly at Katy. "My friend Lucy, who was your friend as well, was the best judge of character I have ever known. Katy, Lucy inherited our Quilter's Scepter when she was twenty years old. She screamed and kicked, fought mastering the quilting for the first three years, but her mentor believed in the talent hidden within the novice. You have seen the beautiful quilts our dear friend created. You helped me pack all of her trophies and ribbons she'd won over the years with her creations, too. If Lucy believed enough in you to pass the golden needle on to you, then I trust her wholeheartedly."

Turning to face the ladies in the room, she asked, "Does anyone here dispute Lucy's choice of successor?" Every face in the room was solemn, each shaking their head no. Judy looked back to Katy and posed the question to her, "Do you dispute Lucy's choice of you as successor?"

Katy gazed at the delicate engravings on the needle and took a deep breath before she answered. "I don't know that much about quilting. The only things I do really know about the craft are what you all taught me when Lucy was sick. There's no way I could ever be good enough to deserve this honor. Isn't there someone else, who has real talent, whom you think has earned this instead of me? What would I have to do?"

"Why, I'm so flabbergasted, words fail me right now! This is all so sudden and overwhelming!" She never considered herself to be a quilter, hadn't worked at all on the squares she'd started when the guild ladies began to teach her, since she'd taken them home from Lucy's empty house.

Anne raised her hand from where she sat, getting Katy's attention. "My dear, did you learn anything from Lucy during all your years of friendship about quilting? Did you not pre-wash a tremendous amount of fabric and prepare it for us, just a few months ago? Did you ever help Lucy cut her templates or fabric? Can you thread a needle, child? Have you ever made a block that is done well enough it could be used in a quilt?"

Katy had to nod in agreement to each of Anne's questions, except the last one. "I made a block for Lucy, but haven't seen it since I gave it to her. It disappeared and it must have been thrown away when some of her things were sorted to give to charity."

"You're qualified enough for us, Katy!" Judy motioned her to take a seat next to her and nodded to a woman Katy didn't recognize.

The woman, Tina, quietly took the few steps to one of the boxes on the chairs along the wall. She brought the box to the table and lifted the lid. With the help of Sally, the two ladies lifted an exquisite pieced quilt top and held it up for all to admire. In the very center was the friendship star block she had made for Lucy! The entire quilt top was made of the same pattern, but with a marvelous variety of colored fabrics floating on the white-on-white background. Katy saw on each block a signature, except for hers; names of the women here today. She gave Judy a puzzled look, then glanced back at the quilt top. "What is this?" Katy asked.

"It's what we call UFO bait. Lucy worked on that block that is next to yours. Do you see which one I mean?" Judy continued, as Katy confirmed her question with a slow, amazed nod of her head. "This top is yours, whether you choose to accept the Golden Scepter or not. We just want you to know how much we care for you. We hope, with this small gesture, to thank you for all you did for one of our best of friends, one of our best quilters. It is up to you to finish the quilt and any of us will help you. We are all hoping you will someday have many UFO's, but more finished quilts are always better! Everything we shared with you today must be overwhelming, so we'd like you to take some time to think it over seriously before you give your answer, please."

Katy gulped and promised the guild members she would meditate on the matter and give them her response as quickly as possible. She thanked them all for the gift and then remembered the key on the table where she had left it. "What about the key that came with the golden needle? Does it have a special significance, also?" she asked Judy.

Judy laughed her reply, "Oh no! That was the key to this hall that Lucy had for years, also. Several of our members have a copy of the same key so that someone is always available to open the door for the meetings. I'll tell you what. You just hang on to that key and the Quilt Scepter until you make your decision. If you accept, you'll already have a key to let yourself in to start the coffee and tea when you're the first to arrive. If you choose not to accept, well then, you are always welcome to come back and hand them over. No one here would dream of judging you for the decision you make, whether yea or nay. You might be thinking we are handing you some pretty big boots to fill, but it's really not the worst responsibility in the world to assume. You have friends here who will always be glad to share their experience in quilting, if you have the courage to ask for help.

Judy patted Katy on the back, inviting her to stay for the Show and Tell portion of the meeting. She was relieved to no longer be in the position of the main attraction this morning and sat in her original seat to enjoy the parade of quilts shown. As the quilts were displayed and the techniques used to create them discussed, she thought about the letter she'd gotten and everything she'd been told this morning. After a fairly quick session of Show and Tell, the guild meeting was officially over, but as was their custom, the ladies then brought out their current projects to work on. The hall's long tables provided wonderful space for sandwiching the layers together for basting and a couple of the women began spreading out their backing fabrics for just this purpose.

Katy watched the activity silently, but with a smile, feeling a strange sense of familiarity to the action surrounding her. She listened politely to the chatter of the women seated near her and began to realize she was glad she had come. It almost was as if she could feel the presence of her departed friend and got goose bumps. The little girl who had served the refreshments when Katy arrived late came from across the room with some fabric in her hand and sat down next to her. She beamed up at Katy, held a needle and a length of thread up, then began to try to thread the needle. Katy became interested with the method used by the child, as she observed her moistening the needle's eye before attempting to push the thread through. She was surprised to see the child cleanly thread the needle in one quick motion!

"My name's Susan!" said the little girl to Katy. "The ladies sure are happy you came today. They were saying they was afraid you wouldn't ever come. They was worried you were gonna throw the special scepter 'way, too. I'm glad you came because my grandma has been teachering me to do sewing, but I know she likes to visit her growned up friends when we come here to sew. Please say you'll come here again! I promise you, cross my heart on Grandma's stash, I will show you everythin' Grandma teached me so far so you can learn too! Please? Please say you will?" The words tumbled from the little girl's lips on one breath and Katy grinned down to her new companion.

Leaning over to Susan's ear, she whispered, "I believe you are one of the nicest quilters here. I must think very hard before I decide what to do. I promise to keep what you have just said very close to my heart when I am thinking. Thank you for your generous offer to teach me what you know. There is a lot for me to learn, if I am to accept the Golden Scepter! Why don't you show me something now, okay?"

The morning passed quickly and the quilters began to pack their belongings, heading out the door. Katy thanked the guild ladies for their hospitality and again promised to notify Judy with her decision soon. She drove home slowly, replaying the recent events in her mind. Pulling her Jeep over to the side of the road, near the Llama Rescue Sanctuary, she brought the vehicle to a rest. She sat in the driver's seat and watched the graceful creatures grazing blissfully on the long grass. A pair of cria scampered together playfully, bleating their joyful warbles to each other. Somewhere in a nearby tree, a meadowlark serenaded her with a beautiful song. Katy closed her eyes and prayed for guidance as she sat in the warmth of the noon sun, listening to the sounds of life going on around her. It had been a long time since she'd experienced this kind of simple pleasure and serenity. Opening her eyes, Katy smiled and started the engine. She knew what her decision would be.

When she had spent some time tossing the tennis balls for Loopy, Ima and Boombottom, she walked into the house and straight to the telephone. Reaching into her pocket to remove the slip of paper Judy had scribbled her phone number on, Katy picked up the receiver and began dialing. When Judy answered, Katy began to speak, "Judy? Hi, it's Katy. I've seriously thought about it and have made a decision." She listened to the voice on the receiving end and nodded. "Yes, I'm very sure. Thank you for this morning and everything you all did to help me understand the squishy I got yesterday. I hope I can live up to my responsibilities as successor to the Guild Scepter. Is it alright for me to call you tomorrow to learn more about what this entails?" She laughed as a scream of joy emitted from the telephone, quickly ended the call and turned around to face her animals.

"Well, you guys, it looks like we're going to try to enjoy life a bit more often. I do believe this calls for a celebration!" Katy walked over to her stereo cabinet, removed a CD from its dusty jewel case and placed it in the CD player. She turned both of the stereo speakers toward the window facing the garden, increased the volume, then pushed the play button. Laughing, with the dogs in tow, she walked out to the garden as the music began to blare through the open window. She threw her head back and yelled toward the blue sky overhead, "Lucy!! This dance is for you!" With that done, Katy danced in her garden, real joy pounding in her heart, and felt glad to be alive again.

{copyright 2002 - 2007 by K. K. Taylor}