I have made no secret of my love for my Apple Watch.  In fact, I credit it with making me realize how sedentary I was despite the fact that I walk a lot.  I cannot go to any gym because they make me extremely anxious.  Between the blaring music, flashing television screens and weights being slammed down, or some instructor shouting at a group of sweaty people, it’s all a bit too much for me.  I far prefer the outdoors and watching the sun rise or set as I jog.  I made a New Year’s resolution to “make” my rings on the Apple Watch every day.  There are three:  one is for standing each hour, one for moving (calories), and one for your heart.  Of particular import to me is the one which requires getting your heart rate up for half an hour.  Instead using food as a congratulatory, at the end of each month I am treating myself to my all time favorite indulgence — a 90 minute hot stone massage.  It is the best reward for me for a month of daily running and, if I miss once no matter what, I don’t get it.  So I am trying to use that as the proverbial carrot to keep going.  Not only am I sore from punching and kicking in karate, it offers a soothing environment which helps tamp down my anxiety.  So now I have gotten two wonderful massages, along with virtual medals from my watch noting each month’s worth of consistent exercise.  I am trying to make this a habit like brushing my teeth; I want to get to the point where I simply do it.  When I don’t want to, or I’m too tired, I remind myself of the need to stay healthy.  American essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The reward of a thing well done is having done it.”  I hope to reach that point.  Until then I shall anticipate my next date with those heavenly smooth hot stones that await.

My little one went with us to our local library to watch us vote.  It wasn’t her first time but it may be the first one she remembers.  I can still recall going with my folks when they voted back when there were sliding curtains and levers.  It was always impressed upon me that to vote was both a duty and a privilege.  Now it is her time to watch the example we set and to learn the importance of making your voice heard.  Sixth President of the United States John Quincy Adams said, “Always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, and you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost.”  I have to say this is the most discouraged I have ever felt in an election, and I have voted in every once since I turned 21.  This picture of my little girl wearing my “I voted” sticker pretty much sums up my feelings.  People presume I am a flaming liberal because I care so deeply about the environment.  Others assume I’m a hard core Republican because of my views on pro-life.  I refuse to be labeled.  My mother was gently reared by parents who always voted Democrat as they felt loyalty to Franklin Delano Roosevelt for helping pull the country out of the Great Depression.  My father on the other hand was a staunch Republican and in fact worked very heavily on Barry Goldwater’s campaign.  They used to joke they were going to the polls to cancel each other out.  But they always went.  And they always went together.  This country needs to do the same.  With one presidential nominee spewing unspeakably foul things, and one whom I believe bears the weight of a good man being brutally raped and murdered in the streets of Benghazi, I do not know how to cast my vote between the two in good conscience.  Mama used to joke that in Texas you did not vote FOR someone so much as one voted AGAINST them.  I sincerely hope it does not come to that.  All I know to do is pray that this nation elects a leader who is fit to serve the highest calling of our country.  And may God have mercy upon us all.

Looking back I marvel that my mother’s hair remained naturally red into her ’80’s.  I cannot imagine the terror I unwittingly put her through all before I was four, about the age I was in this picture, and the age my little girl is now.  When I was around two and a half apparently I drank an entire bottle of Avon Skin So Soft and had to have my stomach pumped in the ER.  I actually remember the charcoal and that is was HORRIBLE.  I recall the feel of the cold metal table and can still see the avocado green dividing curtains in my mind’s eye.  Unbeknownst to my poor folks I also drank something at the vet’s office once.  It was the ’70’s and, not only were there no childproof caps, stores left bottles of all kinds of stuff right within the reach of little kids.  Fortunately nothing happened to me.  When I was three I konked my noggin on the corner of my father’s mahogany desk and it burst an artery in my head.  I remember blood spurting out in all directions and it getting all over the walls.  And then there was my finger.  I was playing with my friend and he accidentally slammed my left middle one in his front door.  By the time I got it out the top part was literally hanging by a piece of skin.  Blood was EVERYWHERE.  I kept asking my mother if I was going to die as the huge pool of blood continued to spread centrifugally around me.  There were no cell phones then and Daddy was out working.  We only had one car and Mama had to track him down and tell him to come home right away.  They say I still have my finger because I was so young.  I have no scars and I am lucky it grew normally.  I did have to wear a cast with a metal splint on top of it for almost a year and I remember crying because we were supposed to go to Six Flags the next day.  The crazy thing is I rode roller coasters and every other ride all with a finger that had been completely severed for over four hours not even one day earlier!  That was the ’70’s for you.  Now they have a jillion warnings about heart conditions and medical issues practically before one can even enter the park.  My sweet girl is facing two procedures tomorrow and I would give anything to take her place.  I pray with all my heart nothing is wrong or, if there is, that it can be fixed.  And then I think of all the parents with children who are in hospitals or who have had far worse scares and I am ashamed I have not remembered them in prayer.  I have always thanked God for our own good health but I have failed to pray for the good health of others.  That is something I will never neglect again.  Mahatma Gandhi said, “It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver.”  So for anyone who is reading this, thank God for your eyesight.  Be thankful for the ability to eat, to get around, and to hear.  And while you’re counting your blessings please pray for others to have the same.  Achukma hoke.

I realize I have been remiss in not writing about a big part of our family — our cats.  All of them have a story.  We have a Bengal that wasn’t deemed “good enough” by a breeder (Elgin is marbled; not spotted).  Sweetie, the sweetest calico cat ever, someone just gave up but at least to a rescue organization.  And then there is Soleil and her kitten Giverny; they were about to be gassed to death in a shelter.  Soleil is unusual in that she is orange; statistically only about 20% of females are.  I call them collectively the “bad cats” but actually they’re all pretty good and they are super friendly like dogs.  I cannot imagine watching TV, reading or sleeping without a kitty by my side.  One even likes to “help” me bathe.  Years ago I had a girlfriend who didn’t have cats come over to watch mine and my condo while I was away on a trip.  She was completely freaked because things were different every time she was there.  Cabinets would be open or knickknacks on a table would be in a different place.  I laughed and told her it wasn’t a poltergeist; it was just the cats.  They get curious, or bored, or playful and move things around.  An all-time favorite quote of mine has long been writer Robert Heinlein’s “Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.”  The worst is when I cannot find one of them.  They have turned up everywhere from the attic to the linen closet.  One time I heard meowing coming from our master bath and the cat had managed to wedge himself in between closed drawers.  I kept opening them but could not find anything amiss.  Now all their collars have little bells on them so it helps us know where they are.  When our daughter was a toddler we had our cabinets “childproofed” (but also really “catproofed”) with a magnetized locking system.  There’s a knob and when you place it on the cabinet it opens.  I once looked and looked everywhere but could not find the darn knob when I was in the kitchen trying to cook.  About to give up, I glanced over and found Sweetie pictured above.  Notice anything??  Remember the bells they have?  They’re metal.  LOOK what I found attached to her — THE BLASTED KNOB!!!  She had been calmly watching me the whole time.  Then there was the infamous Thanksgiving incident on our formal dining room table.  The cat ran down the entire length of it, stepping in my good china, and stole the turkey.  I was horrified because it was my first Thanksgiving married but my grandmother-in-law just sat back and laughed.  I have a little plaque which reads, “Cats are like potato chips.  You can’t have just one.”  I know I cannot save them all but at least I saved these.  And they saved me right back.