Category: Photography

Miss Abigail

Out of four grandkids and seven great-grandkids, there are only two girls; Grand-child, Brittany, and great-grandchild, Abigail. But that’s nothing compared to my grandmother who had ten boys before she finally had a girl; my aunt and lastly, my mother. And on my dad’s side of the family tree, I was the first girl in seventy-five years. So, yes, the female population is pretty scarce in our family, so we don’t mind spoiling the ones we are blessed with.

My post today features photos of Abigail that I transformed into digital art.

Bella, My Four-legged Diva


So, it’s raining . . . again. Bella hates the rain. She’d rather pee and poop on the floor than to go out and do it in the rain.

But, she’s not the Queen. I am. So I stand at the back door, clapping my hands and coaxing her off the deck. She gives me this big cow-eyed, go-to-hades look, jumps off the deck, pees like she’s been holding it in for three days then charges back on the deck.

Oh, no! That’s not the way it works, miss wanna be Queen of the castle. You get your prissy butt back out there and poop!

Another, go-to-hades look, and another and another, and jumping on and off the deck like playing a game of tag, she finally finds her spot in the tall, wet grass and poops!

Then, as if being chased by a grizzly bear, she charges back to the deck where I hold the door open praising her as if she had dug up gold in the yard. With a big, fluffy towel, I dry her off, wipe her four big paws, and without even a thanks mom she dashes toward the bedroom, jumps over my husband lying in bed, and plops down demanding him to share his warm, cozy blanket.

She’s such a diva!

 

 

 

Bookmarks: My Great-grandchildren

I was blessed with one child, a son who, due to an injury when he was a teen, the doctor said he probably wouldn’t father children. He has four children and six grandchildren. We are truly blessed!

I enjoy digital designs and I hope you enjoy my creations using photos of my great-grandchildren that I collected over the years. These kids are awesome!

Never, Ever Quit!

My son gave me permission to share this. He is a strong leader in our family and puts his heart and soul into everything he does. He never complains. He never feels sorry for himself. He never quits. But today, he is feeling very discouraged. He has MRSA. Not just one pustular bump, but twelve; the worst case his doctor has ever seen.

So this is what he shared with the family today:

Hey family, hope you all are doing good.  Just sharing my heart about not quitting. 

First, there is no failure in being tired, exhausted, having difficulty accomplishing a task, event, or mission and feeling like giving up or quitting.  Failure is simply quitting when you know you can do and endure more, but you trade short-term relief for long-term regret.  Quitting is the acceptable norm for our modern, mentally weak, soft, and sensitive culture–Christians included. 

I’ve trained for nearly an entire year for the GORUCK Selection. https://www.goruck.com › I have pushed my body and mind into very dark places filled with short-term pain in hopes to develop a greater threshold for the pain and suffering ahead–not just for GORUCK, but for life. 

Honestly, there have been two occasions I have felt like quitting and not attempting Selection due to all my travels and the recent infection with MRSA.  I can quit and my family will think no less of me.  My culture would say, “It’s  okay, you had good intentions, there’s always another time.”  I can quit–my body is constantly sore, at times I can barely walk, I don’t always feel like doing a 3-4 hour routine.  Sore.  Tired.  Beat down.  Mentally fatigued. 

So why do the event to begin with?  Why put myself through that much pain?  Simple:  I said I was going to do it no matter what when I registered for the event one year ago.  No matter what happens.  No matter what obstacles surface.  No matter how plausible it may be to quit.

What’s at stake if I quit now?  My word, my character, my integrity, and my own personal self-respect.  For me, if I quit, what example do I set for my family and others who believe in me?  Finishing Selection is not the ultimate goal for me.  Victory is overcoming every obstacle and opportunity to quit before the event even begins. 

When confronted with the temptation to quit ask yourself “what’s at stake if I quit?”  Failure is simply quitting in the face of difficulties when you can do and endure more than you think.  We don’t need courage when things are easy  . . . we need courage when things seem impossible!!

Family, be strong!  Be brave!  Be bold!  YOU can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens you!  Be courageous!  Fear not!  Don’t quit–Finish the goal, the task, the dream, the event, whatever it is–Don’t give up, give in, give out, or quit!! What is at stake if you quit?  The better question is, “What potential impact does my not quitting have on me, my family, others, and the Kingdom of God? Regret or glory–the choice is yours.  And for me?  I’d rather die than to quit!

 

Letting Go

Parenting is a full-time job of love and patience, teaching and learning, guiding and directing. A full-time job of trial and errors, pacing the floor . . . and letting go.

From the time a mother holds her infant in her arms and holds it to her breast, the natural process of letting go begins to unfold.

At first, we don’t see it. We’re way too busy changing diapers, filling bottles, and trying to catch a few hours sleep. The mere thought of him starting first grade is a trillion miles down the road.

Suddenly, it happens. You’re not the love of his life anymore. He’s dating. He gets married. He has kids. His kids have kids. They all have lives of their own to live and enjoy and to follow the star of freedom and independence. No one has the right to interfere with that.

Unfortunately, my mother didn’t get that. To her, letting go was like cutting off her arms. I guess through her abusive childhood and failed marriages she had lost so much already that she felt she couldn’t survive losing her kids too.

So she clung to me like clinging to the edge of a cliff.

I could write a book about the emotional damage she caused, the conflicting battles and severed relationship we had and the effect it still has on me. Maybe one day my life will be what it is was meant to be, but it may never happen on this side of heaven.

That’s why I’ve worked so hard through my fears and insecurities to set my son free. Why my heart gave him permission to spread his wings and become the strong and independent man he is today. He will not be controlled, and I will never impose my will on him; to manipulate and toy with his tender emotions. To me, that is the most deadly form of child abuse. It’s emotional rape and almost impossible to recover from. I love him way too much to slaughter his spirit.

Through a river of blood, sweat, and tears of letting go, I am reaping a bountiful harvest of joy and happiness through my son, his kids, and his grandkids. And when he takes me out, which isn’t very often due to his busy and exhausting schedule, he treats me like a queen. He warms my heart and makes every moment we spend together priceless treasures that no one can take away.

For me and my twisted emotions, letting go is not easy. But I’d rather die than sacrifice my son’s emotional well-being for my own selfish desires; to try to put him in a tiny box with no room to grow. His wings are way too big and strong for that.

 

 

 

Two Old People and a Hand Truck

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted an update concerning our home improvement (demolition). The truth is, we had to take a break from it.

We began taking up the carpet on Monday, May 27, 2019.  And it’s been quite an undertaking for two oldies who have never done this before.

EVER!

To top it all off, two days into our demolition, we had a car accident.  A woman ran the red light and hit us on the driver’s side. No one was hurt, thankfully. However, It was the week of Labor Day, so it was difficult getting her insurance to follow through, leaving us without a rental for five days. At least we had the truck, or so we thought. But, it wouldn’t start.

Six weeks, and two car rentals later (the first one broke down on us and our car is still in the shop) this is the progress we’ve made:

 

 

 

Blood, Sweat, and Tears!

My writing has been on hold since hubby and I decided to wreck our house. Literally. Yep! Every square inch of it. We’re ripping up our old, nasty carpet and putting down new, vinyl plank flooring.

Piece of cake!

Well, for the pros who know what they’re doing with tons of experience and manpower to get the job done in just a few short days. Not so for two old timers with no experience no manpower and hardly a clue of what we’re doing or when we will ever get finished.

It was hardly our plan to wrestle this grizzly bear ourselves. But, due to people’s busy schedules and since we already had the planks piled in the den, we decided to give it our best shot. After all, we watched every how-to video for days. Even watched one showing a mom and her two small boys installing their floor.

We were pumped! We were empowered. We were ready to conquer the world!

We began on Monday, May 27, 2019. We’re not done. Not even close. But we’re not giving up in spite of the car wreck, the water damage, the many repairs, frustration, anger, and tears. We will see this through to the bloody end!

To see the beginning of our progress, check it out here: https://sandistatondigitaldesigns.com/2019/05/24/golden-years-where-are-you/

This is the progress we’ve made thus far:

Then the real fun began:

So, that’s what we’ve accomplished in four, long, frustrating, hair-raising, nail-biting, weeks. Not bad for two old people and a hand truck.

Stay tuned for more.

Lots more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Golden Years, Where are you?

Nope! I haven’t been writing. Haven’t been walking. Haven’t been sipping champagne and loving the golden years. To be honest, the golden years is a highly over-rated, over-used, big fat lie!

Take a giant step into my world and you’ll see what I mean . . .

IMG_0280

Hubby and I decided to take up our nasty, thirty-something carpet and install vinyl plank flooring. Just the two of us. Throughout the entire house. Piece of cake!

But first, we had to move furniture . . .

Then take up the carpet and the padding and staples and nails and carpet strips. Those carpet strips were almost as stubborn as me.

Then we saw the horror Bella and Pepper caused. I still get angry thinking about it. Owning pets is not the easiest job in the world. Along with their cuteness comes a truckload of bad-mannered behavior and destruction. Rascal never behaved like these two wannabe queens of the house!

Thankfully, Kilz came to the rescue. Of course, it didn’t jump out of the can and spread itself all over the floor. And hubby got exhausted watching me do it. Poor baby. I think he needs a nap.

We’re on day five. Am I frustrated? Have I cried a river of tears? Am I ready to leave the country? Oh, yeah! But, wait! There’s more . . .

Two days into this Mt. Everest project, hubby had an oncology appointment at the VA.  Things are looking good. So far, he is still cancer-free for the second time around.

But . . .

On the way to picking up hubby’s uncle and aunt for a day of fun, a woman ran the red light and plowed into us. No one was hurt, thankfully. The surveillance video and police report were on our side confirming that she ran the light in spite of what she told her insurance agent. Seeing is believing, except for those wearing blindfolds of denial.

So. How did you enjoy your little visit to my world? Would you like to come back and help us install the rest of the flooring?

No?

I don’t blame you!

 

 

My Four-legged Migraines

I love my dogs.

I really do.

But . . .

They dig holes in the yard, chew my pillows, pencils and pens and everything in between. They pee and poop on the floor. Run around the house like a couple of chimpanzees, and now this! A whole loaf of bread gone!

Just like that!

I’m going to the dog pound, lock myself in a cage, and pray some nice family will come along and adopt me!

We never owned two dogs at one time before. We never owned females before, either.

Double trouble!

Bella, our greyhound mix was finally potty trained after six months. We’ve had Pepper, our dachshund lab mix for nearly two years and she still squats whenever and wherever she pleases. Our carpet is a roadmap of pee stains throughout the entire house.

Pepper’s a little scavenger, too, jumping on the kitchen counters and dining room table looking for something to get into. I think Bella puts her up to it, though.

One day, Pepper dragged a jalapeno pepper under the dining room table. Needless to say, it was still intact.

Just yesterday, she snatched a slice of bread off the counter. Luckily there was one slice left to complete my grilled cheese sandwich.

Little brat!

Some days I want to ship the pair of them to another planet, but my nagging conscience won’t let me . . . Who would take care of them? Who would play with them? Who would whisper silly stuff in their floppy ears? Who would tuck them in every night and tell them a bedtime story? Who would love them? Feed them? Rush them to the doctor when they get sick?

Besides, I’d be jealous that someone else was getting all their slobbery kisses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A House Without a Dog is Not a Home

When Rascal, our handsome, Australian Shepard mix of eight years died, he took part of us with him. The grief was so unbearable that I never wanted another dog to wrap my heart around only to have it ripped apart.

But hubby couldn’t stop grieving and I couldn’t stand seeing him suffer. So, for his birthday, we paid a visit to the animal shelter, and there she was, curled up in a big cage on a skimpy blanket on that cold cement floor frightened and all alone.

Hubby fell in love.

I didn’t. She wasn’t Rascal.

So we kept looking.

No Rascal anywhere.

But hubby wasn’t looking for Rascal and kept dragging me back to that pitiful, scrawny, long-legged Greyhound mix curled up in that dreary cage. I guess I’m a sucker for pitiful, so we adopted her.

That was three years ago. Yep! Three years of wanting to wring her neck for chewing up her bed, and my pillows, and my couch; things Rascal NEVER did. Three years of her hyperactive personality, her jumping and jerking around when we tried petting her. Three years of trying to stop comparing her to Rascal.

Then a year ago Pepper came into our lives. Sweet, dainty, loving little Pepper. She was more dead than alive after being abandoned along with fifteen other dogs. She was so skinny I could barely feel her when she jumped on my lap. Then she licked my face, pierced my soul with those big brown eyes, and that did it. We bundled her up and took her home, hoping and praying Bella would approve.

It was love at first sight. Kindred spirits.

Having two dogs at one time in the house is more than challenging. It’s insane! Pepper loves jumping on the table, and countertops. Heck, she just loves jumping! The higher the better. Now Bella thinks she can jump that high, too. And Pepper is a chewer. Bella stopped until Pepper came along. And she was potty trained till Pepper came along. She was getting more settled till Pepper came along. We had to potty train her all over again. And Bella poops and pees like a cow. So yeah. I was tempted to haul them both off to the animal shelter. But, you already know what a sucker I am for pitiful.

In spite of all their frustrating antics, they are beautiful, loving dogs. They love each other and can hardly stand to be apart. And they love us and children and whoever comes to visit. Most of all, they bring us joy and happiness and a ton of laughter. And when I think where they might be today had we not rescued them, I want to cry