Christmas is a little over a week away and as usual I’m struggling to get everything bought. This year I’ve decided to make several of my gives to my friends and family. I may end up being that person that no one wants a gift from next year but it is what it is. I made my wife and kids Christmas ornaments honoring my cat that just recently passed. I’m really hoping that everyone likes them.
My wife and I are still dealing with the loss. We’ve also noticed that our other cat, Sophie, has started acting differently. I think it’s her way of dealing with his absence and the solitude she experiences when we’re not here. We’ve talked and I’d like to go ahead and get another little kitten but we’re not sure how Sophie will respond. She “tolerated” Clyde and was not really the best of friends but they got along for the most part. I think my wife will eventually agree but it will take some time for her to come around.
This will be Clyde’s marker for his resting place. I’ve been real busy and haven’t took the time time to get the marker done. If the truth is known, every time I sat down to work on it I got upset and couldn’t bare to think about it. There is currently a little wooden cross that my wife placed there until I could get this made. Once I have the marker in place I think this will be the closure that I will need. I will place the marker tomorrow after I get home from my oncologist appointment tomorrow afternoon. Maybe the rains will have moved out by then.
I’m sure I’ll post again but in case I don’t, I hope everyone has a happy holiday and a Merry Christmas.
Thanksgiving has a way of making you pause and take stock of what really matters. For my family, it’s more than just turkey and pumpkin pie—it’s about showing up, keeping traditions alive, and sometimes surviving the chaos that comes with it. Yesterday was no exception. Between navigating crowded tables, debates over who’s bringing what, and the inevitable “pass the mashed potatoes” shuffle, I found myself thinking about why we bother with all of it. And the answer, as always, came back to one simple thing: family.
Why I Write
It’s been a while since I’ve written this much on the blog. Lately, sitting down and putting my thoughts and feelings into words has been surprisingly therapeutic. I’ve always said that this space isn’t really for anyone else—it’s my diary, my outlet. If I gain followers, that’s great. If I lose them, that’s fine too. This is for me, and that’s enough.
Family Gatherings: Love and Logistics
For my family, Thanksgiving is one of those holidays where we make an effort to come together around the table. Mostly, we do it for my mom. Honestly, if she weren’t around, I doubt very seriously that these gatherings would still happen. It’s funny how one person can be the glue that keeps everyone connected, isn’t it?
We also try to celebrate birthdays together. Usually, a date during the month is picked for a small get-together. But, for some reason, we never seem to meet in August for my birthday. I’ve never quite figured out why, but I’ve stopped letting it bother me.
I don’t mind the big holiday gatherings like Thanksgiving or Christmas, but birthday get-togethers can start to feel like a logistical challenge—expensive, time-consuming, and sometimes exhausting. Sometimes it feels like we’re traveling every few weeks, and, of course, the house we end up meeting at is always the farthest from mine. I swear, it’s like my GPS secretly enjoys making me drive in circles.
The Chaos Is Worth It
Despite the chaos—the crowded tables, the debates over who’s bringing what dish, and the inevitable “pass the mashed potatoes” race—there’s something special about these gatherings. Being around family, even if just for a few hours, reminds me of what really matters.
The laughter, the shared memories, the small moments of connection—they’re worth every mile traveled and every effort spent. Even when someone accidentally drops the cranberry sauce on the floor, or Uncle Joe tells the same story for the hundredth time, it all adds to the experience.
Reflections on Gratitude
The best part is that no matter how hectic it gets, or how many extra servings of pie I have to endure, we’re all still together. These little imperfect traditions are what anchor us. They remind us that family isn’t about perfection—it’s about showing up, supporting each other, and sometimes laughing at ourselves along the way.
So, as I sit here reflecting after Thanksgiving, I feel grateful. Grateful for my family, for my mom, for the chance to keep these little rituals alive, and for this blog that allows me to put my thoughts into words. Sometimes, writing is the best way to understand what really matters—and right now, family, chaos and all, is at the top of that list.
For those that celebrate Thanksgiving, I’d like to wish everyone a joyous day filled with family and close friends.
My day started early—early enough that even the sun asked for five more minutes—running last minute errands so I could make my famous banana pudding. Famous, at least, in my kitchen. Made from scratch, layered with love, patience, and just the right amount of “don’t look at it too long or it won’t set.” It’s a simple recipe really, but it’s oh-so good… if you like banana pudding, that is. If you don’t, we can still be friends, but I might silently judge your dessert choices.
Today, my family is gathering at my brother’s new home to celebrate with my other siblings, my parents, and enough side dishes to feed a small frontier town. And by the way—if you’ve been keeping up with the family chronicles—Mom is back home and doing much better. The prayers, check-ins, and coordinated sibling scheduling actually worked. Thanksgiving miracle? I’d like to think so.
I also want to say I’ve been overwhelmed—in the best possible way—by the comments made these past few days about my beloved Clyde. Losing him has been tough, heavier than expected, and quieter than our home has felt in years. The love you’ve all shown has lifted that a little. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to read about Clyde and send your condolences. It means more than you know. The internet can be a strange place sometimes, but every now and then it shows up with a casserole of comfort and a hug in comment form.
Clyde left a legacy of routine faucet drinks, shower supervision, quiet companionship, and unconditional loyalty. And while today is about gratitude, family, and pudding prestige—I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of my thankful list is that I got to love a buddy like him for as long as I did.
So from our family to yours: May your turkey be tender, your pudding be perfectly layered, and your moments together be long-lasting. And if you happen to be eating banana pudding today—well then, you’re clearly doing it right.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends. I truly appreciate you all.
This has got to be one of the hardest posts I’ve ever had to write. Around 3:30 p.m. today, my buddy Clyde crossed the rainbow bridge.
The day began with the first sign that something wasn’t right. Every morning for as long as I can remember, Clyde would wait for me to get out of the shower. That was his way of letting me know he wanted to be picked up and placed on the bathroom sink so he could drink from the faucet—his little daily ritual. But this morning, he didn’t come.
Instead, I found him lying on the kitchen floor next to the air vent, his head down. When I reached down to rub his head, he didn’t give his usual loud purr. That told me more than anything that he just wasn’t feeling good. My wife mentioned that he’d eaten a little, but nowhere near his usual amount.
I had a craft fair to prepare for and some coasters I needed to get printed. Between the power going out mid-print and the rush to get everything finished, I didn’t get the chance to check on Clyde again before leaving. But once I arrived at the fair, I called home. My wife told me he had eaten a bit more and was lying at the end of our bed, where he always slept. Still, something in the back of my mind whispered that we might be nearing the end. I told my wife she should let our daughters know so they could come spend some time with him.
They did. And after helping me load up my things when the fair ended around 2 p.m., they headed home but didn’t stay long.
Around 3 p.m., my wife was watching the Alabama game from our bedroom. Clyde was asleep at the foot of the bed. He woke up, stood, and looked like he wanted to go somewhere but wasn’t quite sure how. He took a couple of steps toward the edge of the bed—and then fell over.
My wife picked him up and placed him gently on the floor, but by then, he was already gone. It happened so quickly. She ran to get me, but the moment I saw him, I knew his precious spirit had already left.
We called the kids and, while they drove back, I went to the backyard to prepare his resting place. When the girls arrived, they spent nearly an hour with him—crying, talking to him, soaking up one last moment with their lifelong friend. Then we placed him in a box with his favorite towel, his favorite toy, and one of his favorite snacks (that one was my daughter’s idea).
Clyde now rests behind the shed, and we plan to place a marker after we get home from church tomorrow.
If he had made it to January, he would have been 21 years old. These last few years were challenging for him—and for us. He was on medication twice a day and had completely lost control of his bowel movements. Our bed was lined with tarps and towels so he could sleep comfortably during the day, and we had to rearrange everything at night so the wife and I could still sleep without worrying. He loved sleeping between us, so we created a little system of towels to protect him—and us—from the inevitable accidents.
It wasn’t easy. But we did it for him. He depended on us, and we loved him.
Because of his declining health, my wife and I haven’t taken a vacation in more than five years. It didn’t feel right to ask anyone else to manage his care. Boarding him was completely out of the question. With his heart condition, the stress alone would have been too much.
Now, with his passing, a huge hole has been created in our lives. The routines, the sounds, the small rituals—all suddenly gone. It’s going to take time to heal, but we’ll get there.
What I know for sure is this: Clyde was loved deeply. And he gave us more love in return than we could ever measure.
If you’ve known me for more than five minutes, you know I live by my calendar. It’s not just a planner — it’s my Bible, my life map, and my emotional support spreadsheet. I color-code, I plan ahead, and if something’s not on the schedule, it’s basically not real.
So imagine my stress level when my mom landed in the hospital and my siblings decided we all need to “take turns sitting with her.”
Now, before anyone clutches their pearls — she’s fine. She’s getting great care from an entire team of professionals who actually know what they’re doing. The woman is being treated better than most people at a five-star resort.
Meanwhile, my siblings and I are out here acting like we need to take shifts in case she suddenly decides to join the Hospital Olympics. Spoiler alert: she’s not going anywhere.
The thing is, I’ve got a craft fair coming up next weekend, and that means I need to be creating — not sitting in a hospital room pretending to enjoy watching nine hours of nonstop news coverage. Nine. Hours. I don’t even like watching nine minutes of the news. I can only listen to so many “breaking” stories about things that broke three days ago before I start questioning my life choices.
But there I sit, smiling, nodding, pretending I’m not slowly dying inside while she argues with the TV. I could be home making candles, painting signs, or doing literally anything that doesn’t involve election updates.
And when I say, “Hey, my schedule’s packed,” my siblings look at me like I just said I’m skipping Christmas. Listen, I love Mom. I’ll visit. I’ll call. I’ll even bring snacks. But she’s being well cared for — by actual trained professionals — while I’m over here trying to figure out if I can make fifty more gnomes before Friday.
So no, I’m not heartless. I’m just scheduled. And if loving my mom and respecting my calendar at the same time is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
The older I get, the more I realize that time doesn’t stand still. It seems like almost every week I hear about someone I used to go to school with or work with who has passed away. Just the thought of it can be depressing.
This past Saturday, I did a craft fair and happened to run into one of my high school classmates and her sister. We had a chance to catch up for a bit, and somehow the conversation turned to the classmates we’ve already lost. Sadly, cancer seems to have claimed most of them.
I’m 62 now — older than many of my classmates since I was held back a year — and although my health hasn’t always been the best, I count myself lucky to still be here.
Most of my classmates already have great-grandkids. Me? None of my three kids are married yet, so I’m not even a grandparent. Only one of the three is dating anyone right now, and I’m not sure when or if the other two will. That’s okay, though. I don’t ever want them to feel pressured. Still, before I go, I’d love to see all my kids married and maybe even get the chance to hold a grandbaby or two.
My parents, who are both in their mid to upper eighties, would love to see great-grandkids too. I have to remind my mom not to put pressure on my kids — she has a way of speaking her mind about things like that.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a form of leukemia called CML. Right now, it’s under control. Sometimes one of the markers the doctors watch goes a little wild and sends everyone into a panic, but eventually, the numbers settle back down, and all is well again. I’ve come to accept that nothing I do can change the fact that I have CML. All I can do is take my daily pill, stay consistent, and be thankful that the medicine is working. Worrying won’t change the outcome.
Are you the worrying type? What’s the main thing that weighs on your mind — your kids, your health, your future, or something else? I get my worrying honestly; my grandmother on my mom’s side was a worrier, and my mom’s the same way. I guess it just runs in the family.
I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving and spent some time with their families. I spent the majority of my day with my family. My mom and dad are in their mid-eighties and don’t get around as much as they used to. Today is one of the few days that I allow myself not to be too concerned with what and how much I eat. Christmas is another holiday that I do this. The rest of the year is spent watching how much carbs I consume. Tomorrow is a new day and I’ll get back on my diet then.
This has been such a stressful week for me. It started with one of my daughters getting sick at school and having to go pick her up and take her to the doctor. The school is an hour away so when I left at 3 pm that meant that I didn’t get home until 10 pm. That’s picking her up at school, driving her to the doctor, driving her home to eat supper then me taking her back to school and me driving back home afterward.
The next event was having to hunt for my son’s W2. He got a new job and was supposed to have started last Monday but things kept popping up. They finally told him that he needed a W2 for the years 2012 and 2013. After tearing our house apart, I found the 2013 W2 but the 2012 W2 is still elusive. My son went to the IRS website and he found his 2012 W2 but it was missing some information and therefore was rejected by the people doing the background checks. Eventually, they compared the 2013 and the 2012 W2’s and realized that both had the information needed to confirm employment for these two years. He starts Monday with his new job. During all this, I was trying to finalize the paperwork for disability.
Today and tomorrow my son moves into a new apartment. He has purchased a coffee table and a kitchen table that he had stored here. The coffee table needed some work so I’ve been repairing, sanding and repainting. This afternoon, my son came over and we loaded the tables up on my trailer and delivered them to his new apartment. At least that’s two items that he doesn’t have to worry about tomorrow when the movers come. Hopefully, this move won’t take all day.
Sunday, we’ll be making a trip to visit my parents. They live about an hour away so Sunday will be another long day. I didn’t think being retired I would be this busy. I’m looking forward to next Monday when things finally slow back down. At least I hope.
Oncologist Update: Because of some miscommunications with the insurance company, go figure, I have not been approved to be on my new medicine yet. I may end up walking the paperwork to the department myself if they keep losing it. Anyway, it’s been six weeks or more since I’ve had any CML meds and we, more so me than the doctor it seems, are starting to get a little concerned that my numbers might get a little high. If the insurance company approves the meds, it could take up to three weeks before my meds arrive. Nothing to do but wait. But, as luck would have it, the representative for the new drug was there in his office. He gave my doctor a card for a free 30 day supply which should arrive by Tuesday of next week. This should give my insurance company time to process my approval for this drug.
Bloodwork. It’s been six weeks since my last lab. My last one wasn’t good at all. Every one of my numbers was either very high or very low. Yesterday’s numbers were normal for the most part. This was in large part the effect of the drug I was on. The side effects just made my daily life impossible to deal with.
New Drug: Bosulif is the name of the new drug. Right now I’ve been on two of the most common and there are only a few left that is approved by the FDA. Thanks to Karen Davis-Hudson she eased my mind about some of the side effects that were mentioned in the insert. However, Karen, I think you mentioned that 1/10 developed fluid retention, my doctor said 4/10. Not that much of a difference. The other side effects I think I can handle.
The Good News: The doctor and I both agree that the fluid in my lungs is gone and we’re going to have a positive attitude that it will not return and that this medicine will be the last one I have to be on because this one will work. I can breathe, my color is back and most importantly, I feel good. So much so, that if the weather holds, I’m going to try to get my bicycle out one day this weekend.
This is all due to all the prayers that have been lifted up for me and my family. Thank you so much.
I remember going to these things when my boy was in cub scouts. I would always end up working on the car because he would never do it the way I wanted him to do it. We had fun working together anyway. It was a good time for us. He was at the, what I would like to call, the fun age. We would always find something to do together. He loved the scouts as did I. This gave us a wonderful opportunity to be together plus it gave him an opportunity for him to be around kids his own age. I really miss those days. He’s grown now, moved out of the house not long ago and into an apartment not far from here.
Boy Scouts has changed somewhat since I was a boy scout those many years ago. One thing that hasn’t changed is the program and what they have to offer. You may not like what’s happened within the past few years, neither do I in some aspects but there’s one thing they still offer, and that’s a program that keeps the boys out of trouble and in doing so they have the opportunity to learn something.
I digress. This article was supposed to be about the Pinewood Derby which was held yesterday. Eighteen cars were entered from all over our district. Nearly all the boys won some sort of trophy. They had to win their division just be able to race their car in this race so they had to win something before they got there. Everyone had a great time. Hope you enjoy the video.
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