Thursday, July 27, 2017

The latest on the working of my brain and gray matter

I saw the neurologist today. I do not have another brain tumor (good news). I do have a hemangioma 
 which is a cluster of blood vessels on my head- between my brain and my scull. The doctor said that he has seen them in the spine and liver, but never in anyone's head. That concerns me. Also, from what I understand, a hemangioma can rupture and hemorrhage. Not likely, but scary. . On Monday I am having an MRA similar to MRI, but to study blood vessels in the neck and brain. The neurologist still wants me to see the neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins. Oh, and he says that the hemangioma is not likely the cause of my headaches. I disagree. Stay tuned!

Me, July 2017

Sunday, July 23, 2017


I came across this picture the other day while going through some of the boxes from my in-laws' place.

Shortly after we arrived in Thailand,  September 1976 actually, I found out I was pregnant.  We were so excited that we called our parents.  Those were the days when we had to have the Embassy operator contact the overseas operator who somehow placed the call to the States.  So it took a bit of time to get a phone call through.  We called my mother in Maryland, and my in laws in Virginia.  We were so excited!  I was due late April 1977.  I had two other friends who were due at around the same time.

We were 12,000 miles from home.  So far from family.  Nick's parents made plans to visit us in the spring of 1977 so they could meet their first grandchild.

In January 1977, at five months pregnant, I lost the baby.

My in laws make the trip anyway, which was wonderful.   Instead of cooing over a new baby- the wish of us all, we were able to sight see and show them Thailand.  We also traveled to Bali with my in laws.  And that must have been the magical place because I got pregnant with my daughter.  She was born in February 1978, in Bangkok.

So, why this long story?   Well, the dress I am wearing in this picture is one that I made. and wore as a maternity dress both with my first pregnancy and with my pregnancy with Courtney.  I sewed a ton of maternity dresses!

Here we are in Ayutthaya, Thailand, 1977.  Nick's dad took this picture:

Nancy & Nick Sherwood, Thailand 1977

Saturday, July 22, 2017

Random ramblings

The last week or so my mind has been all over the place.  I have been having vigorous dreams.  I don't usually recall my dreams.

I think that there's something going on in my brain.   I am not 100% sure what.  I had an MRI a couple of weeks ago, and when I went to my regular medical practice, the nurse practitioner had a very concerned look on her face.

Let me back up a bit.   In March 2014, I was diagnosed with a meningioma brain tumor.  Same medical practice.  My doctor listened when I told him about my bad headaches.  He ordered an MRI that led tp my diagnosis.  The PA was in the room when I got that diagnosis.

Now, I have been having bad headaches again.  And a couple of episodes of double vision (very disconcerting).   So the report for this MRI was scary.   Among the words in the report "slowly growing enhancing lesion within the left parietal calverium near the vertex".   "considerations include intraosseous hemangioma or intraosseous meningioma".  Oh yeah, it could also be some sort of artifact from Lyme disease- so I had a blood test for Lyme too.

Add to that I have the wrong cholesterol- high bad and low good, and a fatty liver.  Oh and I needed to increase my dose of thyroid medication..  I am aging (that's a good thing, right?) and I am way overweight.  And I feel too lazy to do anything much about it.

Oh yeah, I need a new knee.   Seems like every part of my body is falling apart.

So, my dreams:   I never dream about my brother.  He died June 15, 2001.  He was living with our mother because his life had been falling apart and he was just starting to get it together.        But a couple of nights ago, I dreamed about Dale.   Nothing very interesting.  Just Dale and I walking in a park talking quietly.   We were both young and healthy.

Truth is, Dale is dead.  He was 51 when he died.  He was killed on his motorcycle.  When he died, my mother, sister and I cried and I know I had at least one screaming session in the shower.  When he first died, I felt that I saw Dale everywhere.  Even the reflection of my eyes in the mirror were Dale's eyes looking back.

Why did I dream about him now, 16 years after his death.  I guess my mind is traveling all over the place.

Next random thoughts :  I've always liked learning about facts in history and who the people were.  There's been several TV shows recently with American history stories and a show about First Ladies.    And looking at the pictures we have recently acquired from Nick's mother.  So old, Nick's grandmother dressed in long dresses and fancy hats.  She was born in the 1800s.

I have been thinking about time travel.  No, not like in sci-fi.   No matter how well done time travel movies are, they cannot replicate the dress and mannerisms of the past.  I wish I could sort of somehow eavesdrop.  Be a "fly on the wall".  Observe.

Twenty years ago, while visiting family in Norway, I stood in the room that my grandfather had been born in.   I stood in that room and took it in.  Felt the spirit of his mother, my great grandmother, bringing Nicolai into the world.  If not for that, my father wouldn't have been born and neither would I.  That room was a piece of me.  That farm.     I climbed the trees and imagined my grandfather as a young boy climbing those same trees.  Running to the barn to milk the cows.  Being a fair haired blue eyed boy.

I never met my grandfather.  He emigrated to America through Ellis Island.   I have the ships manifest with his name.  When I first found it I cried.   But, after my grandparents had their five sons,in America,  (my dad was the middle child), my grandfather wanted to go back to Norway. My grandmother protested that she had five American sons and she would not leave.   In 1939.  If you know anything about world history, you know that was a very bad time to go to Europe.  My grandfather died there.  My father would never say anything at all about his father.   I have visited my grandfather's grave in Norway several times.

In photos, I see my cousin's faces in my grandfather's. I see my sister and brother and myself.    I see my children in my grandparents faces and gestures.

None of us are one.  "No man is an island".  True.  We go so far back.  Forever back.  And, of course, when there are grandchildren, the line continues on and on.


And another direction my thoughts are going.  Letters.   We lived overseas when I was little (my family of origin), and my parents wrote "home" often.  My dad would write letters for me to copy and sent to my grandmother.   Even when we were back in the States, we wrote letters.  Long distance phone calls were for emergencies.   We didn't have any relatives in the Washington area, so we wrote.

Fast forward to 1976.  Nick and I went overseas.  I wrote and wrote and wrote.  A lot.  Long descriptive letters about the places and scenery and people.   I actually kept a log of who I wrote to and when, and who I received mail from and when.    I am sure that log is in one of the many boxes in the basement.    Physical evidence of my life and the people we had left behind.

Since Nick's mom died, we have found letters written between Nick's parents.  Many from the time Nick's dad was about at war in the 40s, in the Pacific.    There was so so much love.

I cannot toss the letters out.  I am not sure what to do or how to treat the letters, but they are priceless.

Letters and photos from parents and grandparents and great grandparents.   The past is real.  It is talking to us.  Dormant until they are read.  And then what?   I don't know.    If I threw them all out, nobody would know the difference.   But I would.   And a priceless treasure would be lost.

My brother lived to be 51.  My dad died a few weeks after my brother.  He was just shy of 85.   My mom died less tan three years later.  She was 77.   My father in law died 7 years ago.  He was 93.  My mother in law just died about 12 weeks ago.  She was 99. 

Not sure if there's a point of all of these thoughts.   The loss of Nick's mother has removed our last "buffer".  We are now, all the way, the oldest generation in our family.  I have been without both of my parents for a while.  But Nick's mom was my buffer too. 

I don't think of myself to be "old", but I realize that this is the oldest I have ever been.    Nick will be 70 this year.  I think with his buffer gone, he is feeling old.  Nick has been sick for a week or so and I worry.  I am not ready to be a lone buffer.  Not for a long long time.

Monday, July 17, 2017

Well, what do you know?

I have been having headaches for the last few weeks.   Last week I had an MRI.

Here's a picture.   What do you think?

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

"You Should Write a Book"

I talk a lot.  I tell stories about things I've done, places I've been, how my past experiences relate to the present.  I have so many memories I want to share.

I'll say, "when my son was a baby he would..." whatever.   I talk  about the places we have lived.  The cultures and how they relate to the way we live.   And, whoever I am talking to seems interested.  And they all say "you should write a book".

Do they really want me to write something, or is it just a tactic to get me to stop talking.

As kids, many if not all of my friends had to watch the slides that their dad (usually their dad) took.  "Oh kids, do you remember that funny looking tree".   We would pretend to pay attention and care.  The best part was being allowed to run the slide projector.

Home movies were more fun.  Watching ourselves run around, soundless, in three minutes bursts.   Occasionally the projector would be threaded wrong and there would be  fragile unrolled movie film all over the floor.  Or, the film would break.  And the dad would get out the splicing kit.  Splicing while everyone waits.

When we first went into the Foreign Service, suddenly, we wanted to see everyone's slides.   All of a sudden we are in that club that wants to know about where people had been and what they did.  And we loved their stories.

After we had been overseas,  we had the newer colleagues come and see our slides and hear our stories!

There is a special "family" among Foreign Service people.   We are truly interested.

And now, we are here.  Home.  Retired.  At least retired from the foreign service life.   Our parents are gone.  They were our best audience.  Our kids have lived the stories with us, or heard them too many times.

And so, when I catch a person who seems to be willing to listen, I talk.  Yes, I talk and talk.   And then I hear "you should really write a book".

Should I?   Maybe.   Meanwhile, I'll keep writing here from time to time.  Yes I will.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

45 years ago, what did I know?

I cannot believe that we have been married for 45 years.   I guess we have and I guess we are that old!

June 24, 1972
June 1997- 25th anniversary

Renewing our vows for our 25th anniversary

May 2017 with all five kids

Established in 1972

Wednesday, May 31, 2017


Sometimes grief whispers and tip toes around.

Sometimes it hits like a ton of bricks. 

It is so hard to prepare for

So hard to predict

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

From Zero to 99 in a flash

We all knew that Grandma Sherwood was old.  We all knew she wouldn't live forever.  We were so lucky to have her for so long.   And really, up to the last month of her life, she was fiercely independent, and opinionated.  She was weaker than in years past, but her sharp wit was there.

She died quietly.   Painlessly.    Gradually enough that we knew it was coming.

All of the practicalities that must be dealt with when someone dies.  Planning the funeral, burial, reception.   Sadness one minute, laughter the next.    One of those occasions when the family all comes together.   As much to be together as to say a final farewell.

My mother in law gave me a priceless gift a few days before she died.  As I leaned down to kiss  her goodbye, she stared into my eyes with her pure blue eyes and said "I have liked you for a very long time".   She was not focused, but away somewhere.   That was the best gift I have ever received.

We have found hundreds of old family pictures.   What to do with them all.  I feel that we are the stewards of them.

From a little baby to an old woman, and even in death, Mary Sherwood was very loved.

Mary Imogene Burke 9 weeks old

Mary Burke Sherwood November 23, 1917- May 3, 2017


Mary B. Sherwood (99), a retired-writer editor for the U.S. Information Agency died May 3 at her home at Goodwin House, Alexandria. For several years she wrote a column for the Agency, "The Week in the United States" about domestic matters ranging from civil rights to politics, which was widely published in overseas newspapers. She covered news assignments at the White House and State Department, as well as Republican and Democratic national party conventions. As a member of the press, she accompanied presidential campaign tours of Richard Nixon, Hubert Humphrey, and George McGovern, and traveled with Pat Nixon to Peru and Africa. In her retirement her hobby was genealogy and she wrote a book about one of her ancestors, "Pilgrim: A Biography of William Brewster," which is still in print. She also wrote a booklet about her Irish immigrant grandparents, "Nicholas Burke and Margaret Shannon: Their Descendants and a Few Ancestors." She was born in Red Oak, Iowa, November 23, 1917, and graduated in journalism from the University of Iowa. She spent most of her life as a resident of Falls Church. Her husband of 70 years, Robert B. Sherwood, died in 2010. She is survived by a daughter, Elizabeth Sherwood of Annapolis, MD., and Venice, FL, a son, Nicholas A. Sherwood of Reston, six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. She was a member of the Graham Road Methodist Church, Falls Church; Pi Beta Phi social sorority, the Society of Mayflower Descendants, the New England Historic Genealogical Society, and the National Press Club.


Monday, May 8, 2017

Ever after

My in laws were married for 70 years.  They loved each other and were in love with each other.  And now, they are together again:

Bob and Mary Sherwood's wedding August 5, 1940
Mary's wedding dress

Fiftieth Anniversary

Still in love!

Saturday, May 6, 2017

Mary Burke Sherwood

My mother in law died this week.  She was sick for about a month and she got weaker and weaker and finally want to sleep forever,   She was 99 years old.

Mary was an only child and she was a very loved little girl  

Infant Mary Burk, born in 1917, Lilie Burke, Mary's mother, who was born in 1879.   Mary's Grandmother, Hattie Leland, not sure when she was born

Bob and Mary Sherwood with young Betsy at the beginning of WWII

The first three grandchildren 1981

Bob & Mary's 50th anniversary 1990

Mary reading


Three generations of Sherwood's, with 30 years between each generation

Sunday, April 23, 2017


This is the house my Grandfather was born in.  These are some of my Norwegian family .



Kjørrefjord--the family name

 This would have been my family name if my grandfather had not come to America.  

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Kjørrefjord is a barrier to List between Farsund and Vanse .
Farm No. 13

Country Norway Norway
County Vest-Agder
Municipality Farsund
Status Matrikkelgård
Area 1.37 km²
The state bought a part of Kjørrefjord around 1880 and started Kyrrefjord nursery school, one of the country's first. One purpose of the establishment was to contribute to forest rearing in Lista and surroundings, which at that time was almost deforestation. The nursery was run by the public until 1927, and then privately run until around 1940. Kjørrefjordskogen is currently owned by Upplysningsvesenet's foundation , and the forest is one of the largest producers of decorative greenery at Agder [1] .


The name may come from Kyrrefjord , which means "The quiet fjord". [2]

See also


  1. ^ Forest Society in Agder (31.10.2012). «Nature trail to Kjørrefjordskogen» . Visited 27.11.2015 .
  2. ^ Vere, Njål (1994). The Art , 2. Own Publishing . P. 195.


  • Kåre Rudjord: Listaboka II - gard and folk , Farsund 1981

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Happy Easter

Birth order 4th, 5th, 2nd, first and 3rd

This is from Christmas a few years ago.  But it is illustrative of who I used to color eggs for at Easter time  (if you click on the picture it gets bigger)

Friday, April 14, 2017

If it's not one thing, it's your mother- or your mother in law

My mother in law went into the hospital on the first of April.  She was feeling week and felt that she needed help.

After a bit over a week, she has been released from the hospital and is skilled nursing care.   No prognosis.  She is 99.  She is still "with it".  We are all worried, scared and stressed.

Meanwhile,  the world turns.   Assad drops chemical bombs on Syria and kills people in a most horrific and painful way.   We sent 59 Tomahawk missiles to a Syrian military air field.  We have dropped a huge bomb on Afghanistan.  North Korea is sabre rattling.  We are sending Navy war ships in the direction on North Korea.   And now, Assad (president of Syria) says that there were no chemical bombs- that the whole thing was a hoax.

I started going back to the gym.  I am thinking that I need to get my body moving so I can feel better.   Nick has been working.  Trying to make things better financially.

I went to Richmond for a few days.  Took one son for his sedation dental work. Took other son out to eat.   Went thrift shopping and got a sofa for dental appointment son.

I miss my kids.  No, I don't want them all moving back home.  I know that none of them wants that either.   But I would love to hear from them now and then.  Just a note asking how *I* am doing.  And how Nick's doing.   I have been sending updates on their grandmother's health condition.  One of them checks in for updates.  I know they all love her and care.   I am sure they all love and care about me too.  I just wish they would communicate .

I know that there probably is no way to ask the kids to keep in touch without being, or at seeming passive/ aggressive.

I was a pretty imperfect daughter.  I am sure I did things that disappointed my mother.  But I did write and call.  All of the years we were living overseas, I wrote to everyone.   When we were home, I talked on the phone with my mom almost every day.

The kids saw me get my feelings hurt by my mother, and so I suspect they didn't like her at times for that reason.

It's not easy being a daughter.   It's not easy being a mother.   Even when all of the kids are all adults.    I know that they don't "need" me.  But I need them.    All I need is a "hi Mom". An update of their lives and their feelings and experiences would be nice.   But just "hi" would be so nice.

Each of the kids, as a baby, did need me. They each depended on me totally.  Nursing , dressing, changing diapers.  And they needed me for love- which came so naturally for Nick and for me.  A love so deep I would put myself in front of any harm that threatened them.  Nick too.

I have been told/ warned that reminding your adult children of all the things you have done for them only causes resentment.    I get that.  Just about everything my mom did came with strings attached.

Life is all about transitions.  Babies grow up.  They become amazing "big people", adults.  Parents get old and frail and eventually leave us

Goals and dreams change too.  I have always thought of myself as being a lactation consultant for the rest of my life.  But I am tottering on retiring. I will always help moms and babies.  I imagine I will always be a LLL Leader.  But the legal and technical, medicalization of  the business of being an LC is disheartening to me.

Meanwhile, it is spring here in Reston, Virginia and it is beautiful here!

Monday, March 20, 2017

My friend, Teresa

Obituary of Teresa Edwards

Teresa H. Edwards, 56, of Herndon, Virginia, died suddenly on Wednesday, March 14, 2017, at Reston Hospital. She was born June 29, 1960, in Roanoke, VA, the daughter of Jack and JoAnn Hale.
During her childhood years, Teresa and her family moved multiple times, living in Roanoke, Virginia; Syracuse, New York; Cary, North Carolina; and Charlottesville, Virginia.
Teresa graduated from Albemarle High School in Charlottesville, Virginia with the class of 1978. She attended the University of Virginia and graduated in 1982 with a degree in Environmental Science. On September 25, 1982, she was united in marriage to Harold (Chip) Edwards in Charlottesville. In 1984 they moved to Herndon, Virginia. Teresa worked as a technical writer for a local engineering firm until birth of her first daughter in 1988.
Teresa was a stay-at-home mom who also had a love for animals and a passion for her pets. She home-schooled her two daughters and was involved in La Leche League for many years. Teresa was dedicated to finding loving homes for animals in need and recently became a volunteer for A Forever Home Rescue Foundation, a dog adoption agency. In her spare time, Teresa enjoyed spending time with her daughters, visiting her mother in Charlottesville, cooking healthy meals, caring for horses, and reading while sitting next to her dog Sadie.
She is survived by her husband Harold R. Edwards of Herndon Virginia; two children, Marie Nelson and Sallie Edwards of Herndon; her mother JoAnn Hale of Charlottesville, Virginia; and her sister, Kathy Hale of Herndon.
She was preceded in death by her father, Jack F. Hale.
A memorial service will be held Saturday, March 25 at 2:00 p.m. at the Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Herndon with Pastor Margrethe Kleiber officiating. The interment will be held following the service at the Cool Spring Natural Cemetery in Berryville, Virginia.
Memorial donations may be made to A Forever Home Rescue Foundation at (look for the “Donate” button on the right). If you donate online there is a field called “special instructions” that will allow you to you designate the donation in honor or in memory of Teresa. You may also mail your donation to the address below:
A Forever Home
P.O. Box 222801
Chantilly, VA 20153-2801

Monday, March 6, 2017

Three years ago

Three years ago today, my doctor listened when I complained of bad headaches. He ordered an MRI and I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. In June 2014 I had brain surgery to remove the benign tumor. I am grateful to my doctor for listening to me and to my sister, Carol Thompsen Hestvik for insisting I go to Johns Hopkins for my surgery and care

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Some sort of epiphany

I have had this feeling of gloom and doom for a while now.  It's just been an underlying depression that I couldn't exactly put my finger on, but I was just feeling kind of blah.  

I know some of it comes from the election of Donald Trump.   But, usually something like that passes.  It is intense, but fleeting.  This was different.

Then, I think I finally figured it out.   I "lost" my "H" drive- an external hard drive on my computer.  I had all of my thousands of pictures stored there.   I had worked so hard on taking and storing and organizing them.  
The pictures were not actually "lost".  They are all still around.  But, not the way I had worked so hard to create and organize and file them.

I have tried to explain it and have not been able to articulate my feelings.  

Then, the other night, I couldn't sleep.  I got up and started to write/ draw out what I had "lost".  It was all of the work I had done to create a system that I loved.   I have had lots of suggestions such as "they are all there, you just have to re-organize them again".

I started to think about what it was I felt I had lost.  I thought of it as an object.  I told it to Nick this way;  imagine you made a beautiful guitar (which he has done), and it broke into a thousand pieces.   And you were heart broken.   And you were told "you have all the pieces, just put it back together".  Like it is that simple.   It is the loving care and thought and time that went into the beauty of the guitar, not just the "pieces".

I wrote down what I felt represents, somewhat, the order and system I had created, and why I felt too overwhelmed and too hurt (?) to just "replace" it.

I had made folders for every month since 2004.   For every month.  Plus I had made folders for special subjects.  and sub folders of those folder.   I had done a lot of photo shopping and cropping on a lot of my photos.  I don't know if I can ever pick up all of those broken pieces and put them together again.  I don't think my heart is in it.

But being able to articulate what my loss was, and to have it understood, took away that feeling of helplessness.    

It has been and is genuine grief.  No, not over a "living" being, but a piece of myself.   So, now I can get back to feeling like I am going to be alright.

Here's what I drew up in an effort to try to help it make sense to anyone else.  Mainly to Nick because I know he cares about it more than most anyone else would.

This represents all of the folders and work I put into my now lost filing system.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

So far so good

The last week or so I have been contemplating my future.  Not that I am not always doing that anyway.  But, I found a lump in my breast.

I am a lactation consultant,  I know what breasts feel like.  Some are lumpy, but when a lactating breast is lumpy, it is usually a plugged duct.   I have not been a lactating mother for a very long time.  So, I did not imagine I had a plugged duct.

I was quiet about it for about a week.   I was able to get an appointment with my gynecologist to get an order for a mammogram.   I could have gone to get one without the doctor's order, but, I wanted her to write the order in a way that assured that the lump would be seen and studied.

I kept saying, "it's fine".  "I am going to be just fine".  "It's probably nothing".  But I had not really convinced myself.

I had always told myself that if I had breast cancer I would be fine and get through it.  If I needed to have my breasts removed, I would be okay with that too.

Then, for a brief moment of my life, I faced that possibility.  And I felt sad.  These are the breasts that fed my babies.  That have known life and love.  They are a part of me.

The fear of the practical things in life getting disrupted.  Like who would run the weekly drop in breastfeeding cafe' that I have held weekly for the last seven years.  Who would water my house plants, and keep the bird feeders full.  What would my kids think?   How would they cope?

And I kept smiling and telling everyone "oh it's all going to be fine".

Yesterday I had a very complete mammogram,  a 3D mammogram and an ultrasound.   When the tech said she was going to get the doctor, I braced myself for ...well.. whatever would come next.

The doctor came in smiling.  She shook my hand as she introduced herself, and she said I am just fine.  Nothing wrong.  No cancer.

I texted my sister because I know she was as worried as me if not more.  I texted my husband, and told him I was on my way home VIA the bird seed store.

I stopped at the grocery store and came home and cooked a good dinner.

And when I went to bed, I wanted to cry.  Cry hard.   I have had too many friends who did not have good news.  I cannot imagine how they felt, but I am sure they cried.

But, I didn't cry.   Nick came to bed and he read the names of various community center courses which we re-named into silly words and activities.  We laughed and laughed.  And I slept better than I have in a long time.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

The Women's March January 21, 2017

This is my friend Maureen and here's what she wrote:

The chocolate chip cookie drop worked! I scored a Pussy Hat tonight from the collection site in Reston. They got over 60,000 hats, knitted by supporters all over the world! Mine was knitted by Erika from Madison, Wisconsin. Here I am with my dear friend Nancy, who already knitted several hats for the Marchers.

Maureen was hoping I would have a hat for here and I wish I did.  But I am confident that all of my hats were at the demonstrations in Washington, DC today!!


Protesters in solidarity, Perth, Western Australia

My knitting being worn in DC

Thursday, January 19, 2017

I've been knitting

The Women's March on Washington D.C. is happening January 21, 2017! The Pussyhat Project launched Thanksgiving weekend! As of now, we have 4 days to knit, crochet, and sew 1.17 million pink pussyhats. Join the movement!
Please check out The PDF to get the whole picture of what we're about.  We'll be updating this website with more content SOON.

Monday, January 2, 2017

Reflecting on the New Year




2015 the tape is there because I just had my thyroid removed


I posted the most recent picture, from 2016, on Facebook as my "profile picture".  This is pretty much how I look when I am not too tired, have on a bit of make-up, and am smiling.

I wanted to load the pictures here in chronological order, but haven't yet mastered that skill.   Oh well, I did date them the best I could.

My favorite picture among these, of myself anyway, is the one from 1983.  Of course I was a lot younger and thinner.  That helps.  And something that bugs me, but nobody else probably cares about, is how much straighter my teeth were back then.

I want to get them back to that although some people would say "you're almost 63, what does it matter how you look?".    Well, I don't know that it matters in terms of global importance, but it matters to me.

I guess I am aging alright.   I don't know what I expected!  I kind of had a picture in my mind, once upon a time, of myself in my 60s with two long, gray braids.    Wearing overalls.   Being a country woman.   I imagined myself as one of Joni Mitchell's

"Ladies of the Canyon".      

She always makes you welcome in
Cats and babies 'round her feet
And all are fat and none are thin
None are thin and all are fat
She may bake some brownies today
Saying you are welcome back

I knew this song before  I was married and before I was a mother, but I had a romantic vision of myself with cats and babies.  I got to live that dream, didn't I?   And I can always go back and listen to the music.

What is it about the music of youth and dreams?  Here's another one that Nick and I both loved listening to:

"Teach Your Children"

You, who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so, become yourself
Because the past is just a goodbye

Teach your children well
Their father's hell did slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks, the one you'll know by

Don't you ever ask them why
If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you

And you (Can you hear?) of tender years (And do you care?)
Can't know the fears (And can you see?) that your elders grew by (We must be free)
And so, please help (To teach your children) them with your youth (What you believe in)
They seek the truth (Make a world) before they can die (That we can live in)

Teach your parents well
Their children's hell will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picks, the one you'll know by

Don't you ever ask them why
If they told you, you will cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you