Sunday, October 15, 2017

I miss the little things that make up our love

Many many years ago I worked as an inpatient oncology nurse. I was chemo certified so part of my job was to administer intravenous chemotherapy to our patients who came in strictly on an out-patient basis. These people were not as immuno-compromised as our overnight patients. They came in, stayed for a few hours while they received their medication, and then - if all went well - they went home. Most times they were accompanied by family members. That gave me a chance to observe how the family dynamics were doing with the stress of the illness, do some teaching, offer support, and just enjoy the interactions.
Even though this was over 20 years ago, I still remember one particular married couple.They were probably both in their sixties. The woman was the patient, receiving chemo for advanced stage breast cancer. She  looked as though she had lost weight recently and her bald head was wrapped in a colorful scarf. But it was obvious that they had a wonderful loving relationship just by how they interacted with each other. Her husband doted on her, sitting with her while she underwent treatment, anticipating her every need. I know he was probably feeling very helpless and wanted to do what he could - anything - to lighten her burden. Over the course of her time with us, I got to know them fairly well.
One particular incident stands out in my mind.
I remember she was going to read a magazine to while away the time and she pulled out her glasses from the bottom of her purse. Right away her husband jumped up and held out his hand.
"Here, let me clean those for you," he said.
He immediately went over to the sink in the room and lovingly washed and dried her glasses before handing them back to her.
It was a small gesture. Something we all do every day.
And yet to this day, whenever I wash my own glasses I think of him. That one small gesture said volumes.
She was loved.
Cared for.
It's the little small things we do for each other that make up the bigger picture of our lives.
And when death robs us of our loved ones, our hands hang idle, longing to do one more loving act.
I ache to be able to caress the soft spot next to John's eyes.
I wish I could cook one of his favorite meals for him again.
Or surprise him with a bag of red vines - his favorite candy.
I often think of the times John would go grocery shopping and come back with a bouquet of flowers for me.
Or make my coffee just the way I liked it.
Or make me soup when I was ill.
It's the every day things that I miss so much.
Each and every day.
That couple I met all those years ago have probably gone on to the next World now but I still remember them and the lesson the husband taught me.
Little gestures of kindness, of affection, of saying I know you and I love you just the way you are are what make the world go round.
How I wish I could share another moment like that with John again.
But I am grateful I was able to share them when we did.
I love you, John.

Saturday, October 7, 2017

To John

I am so happy we shared this lifetime together - and all the lives we shared. Looking forward to eternity with you.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Wonderful messages

I feel blessed.
I have been getting some very nice compliments and reviews on my book [since this was on a closed Facebook group I have shielded the group name and participants].
This is just a small sampling of what people are saying. It actually brought tears to my eyes to read all the good thoughts.
I couldn't help but wonder what John thought of all this. That evening, as if to let me know, I found this right in my path as I was walking back into the house.
Thank you, John.
I didn't do this on my own. I know that. I had help from John and my Team on the Other Side. I appreciate all of it.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

I still miss John - I still miss my best friend

I have been feeling very down these last few weeks.
I can't say I can identify a particular reason. Maybe it's because our wedding anniversary was the end of last month. One more day without him. One more big day reminding me we can't celebrate together in this world.
Or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's just plain old grief. No reason. Just grief. Grief doesn't have to follow any rule. You can be bopping along all confident and happy and then something - a scent, a word, a song - anything - will remind you of your soul mate and the grief returns and the sunny day is gone.
Or something will cross your mind and for a nano-second, your mind forgets and you think "I must remember to tell J - oh, wait, I can't." And the world crashes in on you. And just like that, the sadness, the longing - it all returns.
That's what it's been like for me recently.
Not constantly.
But enough so that I am aware. Grief is an ever-present companion. An unwelcome roommate.
We have a detente of sorts.
But I would give anything for it to leave.
I miss my best friend, the man who made the sun rise and the birds sing in my heart.
The man whose smile made my day. Whose eyes lit up when I entered a room.
Whose hug eased my sorrows. Whose wise words helped me through life's trials.
Whose love cushioned me, surrounded me, gave me strength.
I forge on. I know I can do this grief thing.
I will make John proud of me.
But I still miss my best friend.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

We are still a team

It's been a heck of a past couple of days. Will get to why in a minute.
But first I am reminded of a saying that John was very fond of: "Things are happening the way they are supposed to." He said it so often it became a game between us. I would get upset about something, he would smile, and I knew what was coming.
Sometimes I would yell at him before the words even came out of his mouth. "I know! I know! Don't say it."
Or I would threaten to punch him if he said it.
But I got the point.
And time and time again since he has passed I have heard him say it in my head.
To the point that I now truly believe it.
Not to mean that things are predestined. No, what I believe is that certain things happen (that we agreed to) so that we could learn and grow from it - or not, if that is our choice.
So, to get back to my last couple of days. I am a big control freak. Ask anyone who knows me. I don't like sudden change and I am at my best when I am in charge. It was great when I was in management. It's hard as a mere human civilian. I always deferred to John when it came to things re the house.
And it's hard for me to ask for help.
But I'm learning.
In a big way.
I was heading into the kitchen and "something" (or someone - I'm thinking John) told me to look up at the living room ceiling. Yikes! A huge spider. Not the little creepy kind that you can squash with a shoe. Remember we live in Arizona. Land of tarantulas and other horrors.
No, this was a huge spider - over three inches across from what I could tell. Possibly more factoring in distance from me and that his legs were somewhat curled. And he was at the uppermost area of my vaulted ceiling. I have a horrible fear of heights so getting on a stepladder and capturing a huge spider was out of the question. I texted some friends, including my handyman and my scorpion guy. I went on our local town Facebook page and asked for suggestions. That was NOT helpful (throw a brick and using a blowtorch were two suggestions). I called a local exterminator but since it was Labor Day (these things ALWAYS happen on a holiday) the best they could offer was a technician coming out the following day. Not good.
So I took a step back.
And started to talk to John, asking him for help. Right after that my handyman texted me back and asked me if I wanted him to come help. Yes, please!
He arrived in about 10 minutes and got to work. With the help of my ladder, a plastic container, and a stiff piece of paper, Mr. Spider was captured and then safely released in the front yard.
With some networking I found out it was a male huntsman spider, one of the largest species in Arizona.

Turned on the shower in the Master bath - no hot water. Not good but, hey, I'm getting better at this Disaster-A-Day program. Called my plumber and they promised someone out by the end of the day. Then they called and said a technician could come within the hour. Was that okay with me? Duh!
Oh, and by the way, his name is Johnny.
Really? I looked heavenward and smiled. I'm seeing a pattern here.
So, I corralled all the animals in safe quarters in case the plumber needed to come inside.  Johnny arrived and immediately saw the problem with the water heater and set to work. An hour later I had hot water. And happy surprise - everything was still under warranty so no charges.
Moral of the story as I am starting to see it:
I can do this problem solving thing. I have it in me. Even when it comes to taking care of the house.
And the other thing is this: John is still here. We are still a team. He told me once through a medium that he is still taking care of things. I believe that. He's just doing it through me now. I have to trust. Myself and him.
I'm learning.
Things happened the way they were supposed to.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Happy 36th Wedding Anniversary, Sweetheart!

I love you and miss you so much.
Can't wait until we are together again.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

John likes the flowers

Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary and today I decided to buy myself some flowers to celebrate. I know John would have done that if he were here. When I finished arranging them I turned and happened to look at the oven clock and it said 4:13.
April 13 - 4/13 - is John's birthday and one of the sets of numbers he uses to let me know he is around.
I think he was telling me he approved of the flowers and was glad I had bought them.

Wednesday, August 23, 2017


For years, a friend of mine has been urging me to watch a TV series called "Saving Hope". I dabbled in it but never took the plunge to watch it every week. I knew it was a medical drama series that also intertwined some interesting metaphysical issues but for some reason I just never took the time to watch it.
Until now.
Last week, she told me that the show had ended and the series finale was wonderful, keeping with the theme of the show. Now my curiosity was piqued.
I rented the first season and binge-watched it.
I'm hooked. I have since requested the rest of the series from my library (for some reason it is not available on Netflix). In fact, I am on my way after I post this to rent Seasons 2 & 3. I'm excited.
As a nurse, of course, I found the medical drama interesting, if not a little graphic. But it was the metaphysical aspect that really got me hooked.
The show revolves around a surgeon (Charlie) who is injured in a car accident and goes into a coma. While in the coma he has a profound out of body experience and finds himself roaming the halls of the hospital where he used to work and encountering other spirits who are either in comas or are in the process of passing over to the afterlife. He also witnesses his fiance Alex (a surgical resident) go through her own turmoil as she tries desperately to save him.
And it was this particular aspect of the show that touched me.
Many scenes showed Charlie sitting next to Alex as she spoke to his comatose body or as she cried and mourned the loss of their life together.
And I wondered - is that what it's like for our loved ones as they watch us go through our grief?
Is that what's it's like for me and John?
I think so. My heart tells me this must be so.
I know I feel him with me and I know it is not my imagination.
Sometimes I think I can have a conversation with him. Thoughts come into my head that I know are not mine but that are comforting.
How else could I feel his presence?
Smell his cologne?
Listen just when a special song plays that speaks directly to what I have just been thinking?
How else could I get signs from them - coins, feathers, and, in my particular case, little pieces of glitter?
The series name is aptly called "Saving Hope", a play on words since the hospital that is the setting is called Hope Zion Hospital.
But this belief that I have about our spirit also gives me hope.
A hope - no, make that a confirmation - that there is more to what we can perceive with just our five senses. That we need to expand our awareness of what consciousness is.
As a nurse, I have always known that we need to be careful around our comatose patients - that they can experience life even though they appear to be totally unaware.
And to those of us who like myself mourn the loss of a loved one I say rejoice! Rejoice in the knowledge that our loved ones live on and are very much with us as we continue our journey until we too cross over and are reunited.
What a wonderful glorious day that will be!

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Found some old pictures yesterday

I don't know what year this was taken. Based on how John looks I would date it after the Air Force and before he went to Old Dominion.
So, most likely late 60's, maybe 1967 or 1968. That would make John about 25 or 26 years old.
I still have that guitar. It sits in our living room, a link to John.

Monday, July 17, 2017

Practicing independence

John did so much for us. He took such good care of our home - and me.
It's hard when I have to depend on others now to do things that he once did. I have been lucky in that I have found a lot of good people to fill John's shoes - from landscapers to handyman to A/C repairmen. And I know he is sending these people to me.
But sometimes I just want things done on my time and not wait for others.

This past weekend was one of those times.
First I changed the rug on the deck. Moved furniture. Picked up the old rug.
Got the new rug in place. Put the furniture back.
Turned out great.

Then I wanted a storage unit for the laundry room. I saw one in Target that looked nice and that seemed easy enough for me to put together myself. Dragging the heavy box home was a challenge. Then yesterday I decided to put it together. But I did it.
After putting my furry helpers in the bedroom so I wouldn't have to worry about Sean hiding pieces of hardware, I took a deep breath and started.
And it was nice using John's tools. I felt like he was with me.
I was tired by the time I finished but I think it turned out okay.

John always admired my stubborn streak. He knows I'm never going to change. I know he's smiling.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

I am so blessed

7 billion people on this planet and you picked me.
How lucky am I? I still feel your love - across space, across time.

Sunday, July 2, 2017

Another Hello

I saw this the other day when I was out having lunch with friends. A heart and the numbers I see so often from John. John's birthday was April 13, 1943 - 4/43.
Thank you, Sweetheart.

Thursday, June 22, 2017

Even the sound of his voice is precious to me

While cleaning out my John's desk a while ago, I found a couple of old cassette tapes that his mother had recorded many years ago. They were of John playing the guitar and singing some old folk songs. The recording was from January 1969. The quality of the recording wasn't very good - it was a recording of a recording. John had been singing for a group of residents at a convalescent home so it was probably in their day room and the acoustics were not the best.

But still it was gold to me. It was my John and he was singing. John serenaded me often in our early years. And he had a very good voice. He had won awards in talent shows and had actually once been the opening act for Judy Collins back in the day when she had appeared back east at some venue.

I know the recording means absolutely nothing to anyone else but I am so glad I have this. I spent yesterday morning making a digital copy of the tapes using my iPad and then transferring the files to my computer and then to Dropbox on my phone so I can carry them around with me and listen to them whenever I want.

At one point while I was making my copies, the tape unraveled in the machine but with the utmost care I was able to salvage it with no ill effects. I'm sure some people today have no idea what that even means.

The last couple of days have been rough with some family issues and I have been missing John a lot and having a grief surge. Hearing him sing again has been a blessing.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Loving message from John

On Friday I was part of a group reading given by my friend who is a medium - Susanne Wilson, known as the Carefree Medium. I have known Susanne for years and she even wrote the Foreword to my book. She is a talented and compassionate woman.
Anyway, John came through and one of the messages he gave was that he was going to send me a special song, probably on my way home.
John often does that so I looked forward to it. As I drove home I turned on Pandora. In my heart, I just knew it was going to be the third song and it was.
It was "I'm Yours" a beautiful song by Jason Mraz [the Pandora version was sung by a different group but the message was the same. It was the song that mattered].

Monday, June 5, 2017

A good moment in time

I dreamt about John last night. It wasn't a visit. Just a dream. But for a little while, the world was right again and there was no sadness.
It felt good.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

A happier time

7 years ago today John and I shared our last day together on this earth, this time around.

 Surrounded by loving family.

Monday, April 24, 2017


There is a myth that has been perpetuated for years that we replace all the cells in a human body every 7 years. It's not true. Or rather, to be more accurate, that is partially true
Cells are replaced in our body at various rates of turnover. And some cells - the neurons in our brains - are never replaced.
But it's a nice romantic thought that we can be born anew every few years. Which begs the question - why can I not lose these 10 pounds? But that's a story for another day.
Yet, this theory, flawed as it is, does add some romanticism to the number 7 and change.
And so I find myself coming up on the 7th anniversary of John's death and looking for the magical renewal. I can't say that it has happened although I do feel that I have come a long way from the person I was almost 7 years ago when I awoke on the saddest day of my life.
I've learned a lot - about grief and myself. Being a widow was not something I contemplated on May 23rd. But on May 24th that is what I was.
I have grown into this unwanted role and attempted to come to peace with it. It has not been easy.
One of the things I struggled with most was realizing and accepting that John was not coming home ever again. For a long time I didn't want to change anything - not one thing - in the house. It was as if my brain and my heart were afraid he would return and wonder where things were, where his stuff was. And truth be told, I needed to pretend that was the case. To do any less would have invited madness.
But time does heal. Slowly.
And so finally this past month I was able to take on the monumental task of transforming John's office into a space I could occupy.
John had turned the bonus room off our bedroom - a small room with no door, just an archway - into his own little room, complete with oak rolltop desk, bookcases, computer, etc. It wasn't pretty but it was functional and it was his own space to do with as he pleased.
After he died, I couldn't even bear to go into it. Just being in there for even a few minutes gave me physical symptoms and I would have to leave.
So the room became a catch-all place for stuff and gradually became really unsightly.
My solution was to put a screen across the doorway and not look.
But I knew someday I would be able to fix all that.
And now as the magic 7 approached, I decided the time was now.
So for the past few weeks I have been sorting, and throwing away, and going through.
I made 15 boxes of paperwork to be shredded. I am having a company come to the house to shred all that for me this week.
I threw away a lot of junk. 
I took his desk chair for my own so now I can sit where he sat.
I cleaned.
And now it’s done.
It’s going to be a reading/meditation room.
Yesterday I smudged it. I bought some new pieces to put in there – a chair, a rug, a cabinet to house my crystals and singing bowls. I hung my Indian chime bells.
The cats and I are enjoying the space once again. I feel close to John in the room. His desk is still there - it's behind the screen. But I can read and meditate here and just be. 
I think John would approve.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Happy birthday, John!

Today is John's birthday - 74!
We've had some great birthday celebrations over the years starting with our first one together when he turned 35.
I am celebrating with him in my heart today.
Love you, Honey.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

My dear sweet uncle

My uncle - a man who has been a father to me - passed away after a brief illness this past Wednesday night.
I will miss him so much.

This is a video I made of some pictures of him. Give it a few seconds to load.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

I miss cooking

I miss cooking. Not the every day type of cooking. Not the "We're home from work and it's late and we're starving and what can we throw together?" type of cooking or even the usual run of the mill every day cooking.
No, I miss the cooking days John and I used to have every so often. There were some Saturdays that we would decide to make soup and it would literally take all day. There was one particular soup that was our favorite - potato soup.
Potato soup started out early in the morning by peeling a mound of potatoes. Then we made what was called Garbage Soup. This was a soup that was simmered for hours by making a soup of the potato peels and lots of garlic and spices. This made a broth to base the potato soup on. Some of it we saved and froze for minestrone on another soup Saturday.
After the garbage soup was just right we made the wonderful potato soup. Its aroma would fill the apartment, making us hungry and impatient. To tempt our taste buds even more, I would bake some bread to dunk in the soup. In the early days I made the bread by hand, kneading it on the kitchen counter top, getting out any frustrations from life in its bulk. Later, when we had more money, we bought a bread maker and just timed everything to be ready together.
Then - then! - that evening we would sit down and feast on our day's work - potato soup and crunchy bread. A feast for a king.
Was it an especially tasty meal? Yes, because - potato soup. What's not to like about potato soup? But there was more to it than that.
Making potato soup is one of my favorite memories about my earth life with John. I go back to it often. And I talk about it to my friends with fondness. Making soup with John was a treasure because we spent happy time together. We laughed. We talked. We played with our fur-babies. We hung out in the kitchen all day together. Nothing else mattered on those days. We lived in our own world surrounded by good smells, good food, and love. Lots of love.
There were other meals that we made that took all day, too - lasagna and fried chicken are two that I remember. Each of them reside in my heart for the same reason - more for the love than the actual food.
Today I eat a lot of frozen dinners, usually in front of the TV. Dinner for one just doesn't have that appeal. I could make the soups and lasagna again but it's not the same. I'd rather just cherish the memory of the days I spent with John.
But I miss the cooking - and I miss him.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

Our Church wedding anniversary

John and I eloped in 1981. Years later we decided to have our marriage blessed in our Church. It was a wonderful magical day. 29 years ago!

Friday, March 17, 2017

39 years ago!

John and I became a couple on St. Patrick's Day 39 years ago.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Bunkie Day - 37 years!

John and I moved in together 37 years ago today.
He made us lasagna that night to mark the occasion.
He nicknamed today Bunkie Day and we celebrated it every year. It's still a wonderful day to me.

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

A rose - another Hello

I know I blog a lot about the ways that John continues to stay in touch with me and I hope people are not rolling their eyes and saying "Not again!". But I have to tell you that even I - no matter how many times it happens - continue to be amazed at how our loved ones can communicate with us across the veil. And it seems they never get tired of it.
And that makes sense. Do we get tired of saying Hello to those we love on this side? Of course not! I'm sure it's the same for them. Probably more so because of the circumstances and the fact that they know we are missing them.
For me, every nugget from John is precious.
Yesterday was a perfect case in point.
As I mentioned in another blog post, my birthday was March 1. I purposely didn't ask John for roses. He has sent them to me in one form or another in the past since he transitioned and I didn't want to be a glutton. I did send flowers - with roses - to myself because I know he would have if he were here and I like flowers. I was content.
So yesterday a dear friend took me out to lunch for my birthday to a restaurant both of us like. Our waitress was very nice and very attentive. Shelley - my friend - told her it was my birthday and she brought a candle over with dessert so I could make a wish.
But then she took it a step further.
Totally unbidden by anything we said or did, she showed up at my table with a beautiful single rose and wished me Happy Birthday again.
Shelley and I were both blown away and we looked at each other and said "John!".
We just knew. It had to have been him.
Even though I didn't ask, he sent me a rose. A single beautiful rose that meant more to me than I can express with mere words. My Love is alive and still loving me. He knew I was in a restaurant in Phoenix celebrating my birthday and he was there with me. How wonderful!
My point is simple. Keep looking for the signs. Never stop. The more we are open to them the more we will see them happening.
It's like any other relationship. If we keep investing in it, it grows. If we don't, we lose touch and the communication stops.
The joy it brings cannot be measured.
No, nothing is the same as having our loved one here with us in this three-dimensional life. But if a rose, or a feather, or a penny is what we have, I'll take it and I know you will, too.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

A birthday Hello from John

Yesterday was my birthday. It was a happy day - I had lunch and dinner out with dear friends and I also received an unbelievable amount of birthday wishes on Facebook as well as cards and presents.
I am truly blessed.
And yes, I missed John. Occasions like this always make us wish we could celebrate them with those we love and yesterday was no different. The day would have been perfect - beyond perfect - if John had been here physically with me.
But he wasn't and I know that.
Yet, he managed to get a message through to me several times in ways that I knew it was him - a song, two perfect white doves and a message from Susanne a wonderful medium who is also a very good friend as well.
She wrote me:
"Happy Birthday & Many Blessings! J is sending you something with the clock
I was shown an older looking clock...?"
I couldn't imagine what she meant. All day I kept waiting for something to come through via a clock but the day ended and nothing appeared.
But today I think I have my answer. 
The back story is that many years ago John had built a fireplace for us in our bedroom. He even had planned eventually to use gas when it became available in our area and so had stubbed out a pipe through the wall for that purpose. We loved that fireplace and used it often. But since he has passed I am reluctant to use for fear of fire danger and also the work involved with cleaning it out and making sure the flue was in good working order. But I missed the ambience of the fire. So, a couple of months ago I had decided to convert the wood-burning fireplace to an electric fireplace, using an insert. My handyman told me it was possible.
And today was the big day. Tim admired John's handiwork, saying he could see how meticulous he had been with the brick work. It felt good to hear him say that. Tim also warned me there was going to be a mess and a lot of noise because he was going to have to drill between the bricks to gain access to electricity. When he slid the insert in, it didn't quite fit because of the gas pipe stub so he told me he was going to remove it as well. I left him to his work and went about doing some chores.
A few minutes later Tim came looking for me all excited.
"You're not going to believe what happened," he said. "Come see."

I followed him into the bedroom where he showed me the hole where the pipe had been. He then explained that he had snaked the electrical wire through it to see where it would go. Lo and behold it came out right by the electrical connection on the wall next to the fireplace, the exact spot he needed to tap into. There would be no need to drill anywhere. He couldn't believe his luck. We both felt John had intervened and actually helped him out. Tim looked heavenward and actually said "thank you".
The rest of the work went very smoothly and I now have a beautiful fireplace and can use it any time I want.
And the clock connection that Susanne had told me about?
If you look above the fireplace you will see an antique clock. I had given it to John many years ago as an anniversary present. It is one of his favorites. I feel sure this was what he was trying to show Susanne yesterday.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

A new blessing

My book is published and ready for order.

I wish John and I could celebrate this together as we did with my other two books but I know he is with me.
Books can be ordered here: Amazon
If you want an autographed copy, there are a limited number available. Go here.

Saturday, February 4, 2017

A big Hello

Started the car yesterday morning and this song immediately started playing.
I don't think it's just a coincidence that the day after I send my/our book off to the printer and wishing with all my heart that John was here with me to celebrate this that this played for me.
Thank you, Sweetheart.

Thursday, February 2, 2017

Friday, January 27, 2017

Potrait adventure

Due to an emergency on the part of the photographer, my portrait session was postponed until this past Wednesday. As it turned out, it was for the best [I really need to remember to trust]. Because of the delay, I was able top get to my hairdresser the day before and she trimmed my hair and added some more highlights.
I arrived for the session the next day feeling more confident. After having my makeup done, I felt like a queen. Leanna the photographer was very nice and put me at ease.
We headed out for the park. Luckily the rain had stopped the day before and we had a gorgeous day to work with [thank you, Team!].
When I first sat down for the first picture I knew John was with me. Right across from me under a tree was a memorial plaque that read
I Leave You This
In Memory of
I knew then John was sending me love.
I got the raw proofs back last night and they are gorgeous. It was hard picking just one so I picked several. I figured, why not? I will always have them. But there was one that was perfect for the book. As soon as I get the final photos back I am ready to send the book to print.
I took a selfie with my professional makeup job so I might be able to duplicate it if I ever needed to. I probably can't but it will be fun trying.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

My book

The final edits are completed.
So excited that my dear friend Susanne Wilson, the Carefree Medium, wrote a beautiful Foreword. I am so touched.
The cover is almost done.
Tuesday I am having my portrait taken and then it's ready to go to press.
Can't wait to have the finished product in my hand.
It should be ready for purchase by Valentine's Day - and I think that's very appropriate.
I hope John is as proud and happy to see this as much as I am.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Happy New Year, Sweetheart!

Thsi is the bear I bought for John for Christmas. He gives great cuddly hugs - almost as good as John did.