Early Happy New Year 2019 Wishes


Dearest Readers:

Tomorrow is New Years Eve. I wanted to take a moment to wish all of you a Happy and safe celebration for New Years Eve, 2019. Please, if you drink alcoholic beverages, remember to have a designated driver. I am always the designated driver for my hubby and for me.

Somewhere today I read that South Carolina has some of the most dangerous roads and accidents during the New Years Eve celebration. No surprise to me. We have way too many drivers tail-gating and rushing thru red lights. It’s no wonder we have so many accidents. Some people seem to be on a highway of Its all about me, and everyone else can just —!

Sad, isn’t it.

My wish for everyone is to embrace 2019 with your loved ones. We shall celebrate with good friends, and knowing me as I do, I will be snuggled up tight within my bed watching the apple drop. I feel safer at home.

Happy New Year, 2019. May we all be a little kinder, a little more considerate, and may we all give thanks to God for another year.

Please keep our Armed Forces in your prayers and if you are a member of the Armed Forces, please know, I thank you for your service. I remember our first New Year as a married couple – only my hubby was away in Vietnam. I remembered looking up towards the sky, gazing at the bright moon, imagining my soldier hubby watching the same moon while knowing I was thinking about him and praying for his safety.

Memories. Such wonderful memories. Happy New Year, 2019.

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Christmas Eve


Dearest Readers:

Monday, December 24, 2018 — Christmas Eve. This year, after fighting another dreadful battle with bronchial asthma, I am able to give thanks for life, health and loved ones.

My wish for all of you is to keep Christ in Christmas. Never leave Christ out of Christmas when writing it. I’ve seen people writing Xmas. The only time I write this is to share with others how I keep Christ in Christmas. After all, if it wasn’t for the birth of Christ, we would not celebrate Christmas!

This year, I miss my dad terribly at Christmas. After Phil and I moved to Charleston, my father came to visit us every Christmas. We shared Christmas dinner and other festivities together.

During Christmas, 1997, my father was in the hospital, fighting for his life as esophageal cancer threatened to take him away. Our last Christmas together was the Christmas of 1998. I watched his body becoming so frail he needed a walker for strength. He detested that walker! Somehow I knew, this would be his last Christmas on earth. Now, he celebrates a joyous Christmas in heaven with his heavenly father, his parents, identical twin brother, sisters and another brother. Oh, how I miss him.

For reasons unknown, I have cried many times this Christmas season. Missing him, wishing I could reach out once more and hear his bellowing laughter. His Christmas prayer. His love. Christmas isn’t the same without him.

Tomorrow, I will celebrate Christmas dinner with my husband Phil and our Bratty Boys, our four-legged family members. We will dine on prime rib, baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese, croissant rolls and sour cream pound cake. Missing will be my Dad, Walter W. Perkins, along with our son and his family. Never do they visit at Christmas. It’s their choice, not ours. Also missing, our sweet, precious Little Mr. Hanks, the Tank. We lost him the day before Thanksgiving.

Merry Christmas, Everyone. Please keep CHRIST in Christmas. After all, He is the reason for the season – not Santa Claus!

Little Things Mean So Much


Dear Readers:

Yes. I know. I’ve been a bit quiet. A bit too quiet. Why? Well, it’s the holidays. Yes. I got my flu shot. Yes, I wash my hands – seems like a thousand times a day. Apparently, during the holidays (between November – December) of each year I appear to get sick with a case of my infamous bronchial asthma. 

Last week, I awoke in the darkness of night coughing. I got up, used my inhaler and strolled back to bed. On Friday, I awoke feeling sluggish, having a bit of difficulty catching my breathing. I cancelled our Friday night date after dinner, telling Phil I felt weak and wanted to go home. He agreed. Saturday, I remained in bed or in the den, watching Hallmark Christmas movies. If you’re a woman and you have the two Hallmark channels, no doubt you understand what I watched. Girl cannot decide what she will do during the holidays. Will she go back home, or will she remain in New York, California, or maybe Georgia. She goes home. Meets an old flame. And blah. blah. blah. And off they go to a wonderful Christmas life. Really???

I suppose I’m a romantic. I LOVE those movies, and the oldies, but goodies. It’s A Wonderful Life. I imagine you have a few.

On Monday, I failed to clean the house. My coughing was almost non-stop. Early Tuesday morning I awoke to a strange growling, or was it roaring, noise inside the house. My body ached from head to toe, I was coughing, and coughing. Listening to the strange noise, I realized the squeaky roar was me. Every time I struggled to breathe, I heard roars of air struggling to get out. Phil called to check on me. At that time, I was OK. Later, as I fought to catch my breath, I realized I needed to make a doctor’s appointment. I went online to the Patient Portal, discovering I could book a late afternoon appointment, and so I did.

My doctor knows me well by now. He should. I’ve been a patient since the beginning of his practice now. Yesterday, I forgot to ask him how his daughter, Emily, was enjoying college life. When he knocked on the door and came inside, he looked at me. I suppose I must look like I’m knocking on death’s door. He asked how I was doing, and I muttered, “I’m sick.” He heard the rasping sound of my voice and when he listened to my chest he wanted to know how long I’d been sick. I replied: “Since the weekend.”

I should’ve made a bet with my friends, and on Facebook, simply because I knew I would win this bet, but –I’m not a better! I laughed at my doctor and I told him I knew what he would diagnose. Bronchial Asthma? Am I correct?

He laughed, letting me know it was a good thing that I made a doctor’s appointment. “You really are congested. Down. Deep.” He mentioned steroids. I nodded no. I can’t take Prednisone.

Today, I have an antibiotic I will take for 10 days. He gave me a shot, and prescribed something for my nebulizer. I can mix this prescription with the albuterol I take and I should get better. I certainly hope so.

Phil and I are supposed to go to a Christmas party tonight. Feeling the way I do at this moment, I doubt we’ll make it.

Why is it I always get sick at the holidays?

My husband knows how I detest dirty dishes left in the sink. I know I left a cereal bowl, coffee cup and spoons in the sink yesterday. He fed the dogs. Before going to bed, I went to the kitchen to wash all the dishes collected, but there weren’t any. Never did I ask him to wash them. Years ago, he let me know when we were out of clean glasses. I was pregnant at the time, with horrid morning and day sickness. Instead of starting a fight, I got up and washed every glass. Tonight, — poof – I suppose the magical fairy arrived to wash the dishes. It certainly wasn’t me, or — could it be — Phil? Would he actually wash dishes?

This man amazes me now when I’m sick. He actually is doing some of the things I do. You know…those Little Things! Fluffing the couch pillows where the dogs were resting. Picking up doggie toys. Washing dishes??? Maybe he’s learning a thing or two while watching Hallmark Christmas movies???

Perhaps I’ll continue watching Hallmark at Christmas time!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!