Going into the wild for some animal photography

Pam

The weird, white squirrels of Brevard.

Weird white squirrels are all over the place here in Brevard. The story is that a carnival truck overturned back in the 1940s, and it had the some frisky, willing-to-breed white squirrels in it. Actually there's more to the story, including a key bit about a guy named Mr. Black, but it is not too interesting, plus it sounds sort of fishy. Or maybe it sounds squirrel-y. Anyway, here's a picture of two of these bushy-tailed guys who live in the tree in our front yard.

Kelly

This is an unlucky specimen of the   ‘mosquitus insanely gigantus’ that pierced our jeans to torture our sundowns at Crater Lake. 

Robin

This is one of my favorite pictures of Bonnie.  It was animal blessing day at church and Bonnie was being blessed by Ruth.

Emily

All my backyard animals. Even this 6-foot rat snake!

Cute!

Something nice in my kitchen

Let me tell you about something I'm happy to see when I'm working in the kitchen.

Robin

These guys sit next to my sink. They have air plant hair which has gotten a little dried out. They were a pottery project....make a set of three somethings. I couldn't part with them once I saw them. I have made others to sell as they are very popular around Christmas time. Bring a smile to people's faces.

Pam

As we come and go, this key holder is a constant, right there at the kitchen door. Lately, I've been helping my sisters prepare for move. It is pretty easy for me to look at their little knick-knacky stuff and say, 

"I guess you don't need it, let's put it in the Goodwill pile."

 But when a downsizing day comes for me, I know it will be hard. I don't even remember where we got this key holder, but little items like this can feel like part of the family when you start thinking about it. And, it is cute with the happy green paint and the little window heart and moon cutouts. Don't you love the front door? It is almost like there are sunrays of happiness around it. 

No, I could never throw this out. It is so handy, for keys, but also: "remember your Covid mask!"

Emily

This little guy makes me feel happy every time I greet him in the kitchen. It was painted by Blake Gardener, a north Georgia artist who I love. He paints with a sense of humor that lightens your day!

Kelly

I love my zester. Cheese, citrus --- makes it so easy. I use it a lot!

Scarred for Life

Kelly

My New Belly Button

I counted my scars from my oh-so-many varied and sundry surgeries, and I think I hit sixteen

but could have missed a few. Which one had a story to tell or gave me pause? I would have to

say it was my new belly button.

This scar is from the big mack daddy of my surgeries and the first surgery to boot. In the year

2000 at 41 years old, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’d been diligent, because my

younger sister had an aggressive form treated when she was thirty-six years old, and I knew

that if I followed, I would opt for double mastectomies. She wasn’t given the option of doubles

and to this day regrets it. Because she only had one side removed, she was always waiting for

the other shoe to drop on the second one. I knew I wouldn’t want to do that in my later years.

Wanting to be really sure that I was being smart and not reactive, we visited a few oncologists

and plastic surgeons, and they agreed that with the family history it was a good course.

Holy moly. I was in surgery around eight hours while they removed my two functional, and quite

moderately sized, breasts. Then they opened me up with an incision from hip to hip below the

bikini line (dudes) (kidding), took a strip of my rectus abdominus muscles (the long vertical

muscles on either side of the midline) with the overlying fat, nerves and blood vessels. They

totally disconnected these two collections of my belly and transplanted them onto my chest

wall. Tada! Two new boobs! Microscopically they reconnected the blood vessels and nerves

(not sure that’s a real thing), and my belly roll became the new moderately sized breast

replicas. Because there was cancer in the air, the nipples went, too. Boy do I miss those. The

end result was newly perky tatas and a very flat belly. The pain was minimal up top, because a

lot of nerves were severed, but good lord, the stomach part was like a truck hit me. Note to

self: perhaps consider silicone and ignore auto-immune issues in the next life.

Quick with the bad news then on to the belly button. After my surgery, the pathology report

was slow to show up, because it turns out, I did not have breast cancer. The original pathology

report on my core biopsies was wrong. Everything was benign. The delay was due to the

hospital requesting the core biopsy samples to see what they were looking for post-boob-

mortem, and all samples were benign. Oopsy doodle.

As time moved past the acute and painful repercussions of trauma, and the scars began to

heal, I was able to look at the quite incredible, amazing and perfect tracks of my

reconstruction. Everyone that has had the opportunity to see these new boobs is really

impressed with the overall effect - me, too! Tom, too! And I’m always having to qualify the flat

stomach. “Well, it’s not really flat, it just moved north.” The belly line is smooth and tucked

away, the upper lines are symmetrical and done to minimize tissue pucker and are also

remarkable. But the most awe inspiring trick to me was the recreation of my belly button.

Apparently when the tummy tuck was performed, a wedge of belly skin was removed after the

trans-flaps (new boobs) were transferred so as to make a smooth and youthful appearance.

When they pull the remaining belly skin down, they have to cut around the belly button, pull

down the skin and then cut a new hole for the umbilicus to show. Cute. Around the edges of

my new belly button are almost uncountable tiny stitches revealing the level of detail it takes to

do this very specific and weird thing, leaving me with a belly button that appears untouched by

the ravaging.

The detail of this little hole showed me what care was taken to try to make me whole - how

much effort was made for me to feel normal and look normal and move on with my life. It still

leaves me awed to consider the talent and skill and dedication that professionals spend to let

us carry on. It backs up my adage that anything you do should be done well and to the best of

your abilities (like our elders have taught us), because contrary to big picture enthusiasts, those

tiny little details and stitches are gifts and art and signals of human kindness. You gotta see it. It's adorable.

Kelly  7.8.20

Pam

👉 Scar is above eyebrow.

The Ballad of a Scar

When you click this link you'll get an audio file that won't play. In fact, it will say there is a problem. You will see then a chance to download it. Do that and it plays fine.

Robin

BECAUSE IT WAS MY BONES, YOU CAN’T SEE THE SCARS

I think you all have heard my story of the broken bones, but I will tell it again. In 1979 or 1980, I separated from my first husband, Bill. I met Bill my senior year of college and we got married in December after we graduated, 1974. So, I had had a loving family and then a loving husband, initially. I was working as a legal assistant and had a great boss. I was going to GA State at night to get my MBA. I had stayed busy and goal oriented. But, then, I discovered that Bill had cheated on me and wasn’t going to change, so I left him, the neat cottage we had, the dogs I so much loved.

I had never lived on my own. I started to feel such loneliness and I remember one night looking into the night sky with all those stars and feeling small, insignificant, lost. I know now I was experiencing situational depression. I could be fine, but then a wave of darkness would overtake me and I never knew when it would hit.

I got my own apartment but on the day I moved in, I went to visit Bill’s parents at their farm in Royston.
I went for a ride on Honey Boy, a big, fat, horse but pretty tame. Bill’s step-brother Jose who was maybe 10 rode with me on his pony. When Honey Boy sensed we were heading back to the barn, he took off at a flat out gallop, which could have been fine. We had galloped together a lot before. But he stumbled.
I remember starting to go down.

Honey Boy and I both got knocked out, but I woke up first lying on my back. Honey Boy was lying on his side, his legs on either side of my body. I can’t remember if any part of him was on top of me. I think my initial memory is that he was lying across me, but I don’t know how I would have gotten out from under him he was so heavy. I tried to get up but nothing felt connected about my lower body. I pulled myself away from him with my arms. He woke up and ran off, thankfully. Jose came along and I told him to go call an ambulance.

He rode to the farmhouse and got my in laws Tom and Eolyne. They came to the field where I was, having called an ambulance. Fortunately, an ambulance was basically at the end of their driveway returning to Royston from Athens. They asked if I had feeling. I did but I had tingling too. They rushed me to the Royston Hospital to stabilize me because tingling means I could be about to be paralyzed. The tingling stopped and I could still feel my legs.

The Royston doctors asked if I would like to be transported to Athens or Atlanta. I picked Atlanta and we had a harrowing, fast speed ambulance ride in the rain to the West Paces Ferry Hospital (no longer there.) My knee doctor worked at that hospital which is why I picked it.

That night, Dr. Apple was the doctor on call. I had crushed my pelvis on the right side and had cracked the sacrum or sacroiliac bone or something like that. Instead of putting me in a body cast which was standard, he ran a pin through my lower thigh, lay me in a bed tilted head-down slightly and hung a sandbag off the pin and over the edge of the bed. I stayed like that for 5 weeks. I have a picture of that somewhere which I will show when I can find it.

Remember, I said I was depressed before this happened? Well, this might have been the best thing that could have happened to me, to save me from that. One reason was because I was on percoset for a few days until I could tolerate the pain. But that was a temporary fix. The more long-lasting healing happened from the following realizations.

1. I had friends. So many friends. They visited me every day at the hospital for 5 weeks. They came from work. They came from school. They came from Bill’s band. They came from just knowing them from living in Atlanta. They brought food. They brought music. They brought love and caring. And I realized, I was not alone. Big, important realization. And by the way, I made new friends. The nurses, the technicians, the people who cleaned my room, the people who cleaned me and fed me. All colors, all walks of life, all kinds of happiness and sadness. All shared with me because I was there for so long.

2. If you want to know you have friends, well, you have to slow down so you all can catch up. Since I was there for 5 weeks, they knew where to find me and they did.

3. The day I got out of the hospital, my ex-sister in law who picked me up had to stop to pick something up. I waited in the car (still could not use my right side, crutches for another 6 weeks). What I saw was what I had done before the accident. People darting in and out of the stores, not taking time to look at each other, not taking time to smile. Just darting. So that goes back to #2 here, which is slow down. See people. All people. Smile. Smell roses. There is so much to life that is missed by hurrying through it.

4. The last thing I learned was that our bodies are amazing temples. They heal. It is a miracle really how they heal. Part of my pre-accident life included some drinking and smoking and partying so I didn’t feel so lonely. Well, that wasn’t the answer, see above, and my body was and is a temple to be treated as such. So, when I could finally walk, I swam and then I ran. And I ran, ran, ran, ran. And ate well. And didn’t take my body and health for granted.

I keep those lessons. And I take time for friends. This group is like that. It is friends caring for one another. Taking joy. Sharing stories. Sharing life’s lessons. Taking time.

Take me away

Kelly

The Vacation That Used Up All The Karma

It started with a gift. My parents gave Tom and I airline tickets for Christmas - first class domestic or coach outside of the US - and we were thrilled to try to pick a destination. One month after Christmas, Sam was born, so that became a new variable. Tom suggested we look at Hawaii, because we could probably get the best bang for the buck, and although I never really wanted to go there, we agreed to start the plan. Hawaii just seemed so tourist-y.

Once committed, we discovered that there was a planned optometry conference in Honolulu that we could use to defray costs. My Dad had mucho business credits from being in sales forever, so our hotel near Waikiki Beach was upgraded to a suite with access to free food! His generosity also garnered a free car upgrade. Things are looking pretty sweet so far. My folks found out that they have friends that own a condo in Maui, and although it would not be free, they would give us a good deal, and they supplied us with a huge list of restaurants that ensured we never had a subpar meal and the insider tips on the area made life very easy.

At dinner with friends discussing our trip, they reminded us that they grew up in California and knew friends and family with an ‘in’ on the islands. Through them, we contacted their old high school buddy that was the concierge at the Hilton in Maui, and he set us up for a free luau and beach scuba dive to look for sea turtles. One of their dads worked for Kraft and set up a large company golf tournament every year at Kapalua Bay in Maui, and that contact with the pro gave us a free day of golf with free clubs, cart, the whole shebang! Uncomfortably, a local that played with us who worked as a tourist activity sales director said the only problem with Kapalua was how long it took to get a tee time. I think he said it took him three months. I reeallly didn’t want him to ask, but he did, and I said we called yesterday. It’s not what you know . . .

The only perceived down side was Sam. We just weren’t going to take him with us, and I weaned him at 5 months so my Mom and sister could take care of him. Again, things were easy, because after I had returned to work, I couldn’t keep up the breastfeeding and had to supplement his bottles. The transition was good for both of us. He was also the right child to handle it, because he was happy and loved everyone. We never could have pulled that off on Molly. Lord, she still wouldn’t be over it.

Let’s tally the karma: free airline tickets, tax write off, free luau, free scuba dive, upgraded hotels and cars, free golf, and the hospitality of others. Plus a happy baby. Good karma, stars aligned, smiles from the heavens - whatever guided us was definitely on our side.

Kelly Spetalnick 7.1.20

Robin

A MEMORABLE FAMILY VACATION TO HAWAII

As a family, we have been blessed to visit many cool places.  I choose to write about our trip to Hawaii today.  

In 2003, we went to Hawaii.  It is kind of hard to plan a trip to Hawaii,i I found when I read through Fodor’s, because the names of most places are quite different from names we are used to in the other 49 states and they all have lots of a’s and I’s and o’s and u’s, all of which are separated by lots of apostrophes.  So, it is hard to keep track of.  First stop was going to be Waikiki because it has to be and that is easy to remember.  

We packed up swimsuits, snorkeling equipment from Target, sunscreen and lots shorts and tee shirts and headed west.  It takes a long time to get there, so that when we arrived, we had had major jet lag.  We checked into the Hilton and then headed straight to the beach. 

 We explored Honolulu the next day and found that there is a park and an arena and a few other things named after Neal S. Blaisdell, who was the mayor of Honolulu from 1955 to 1969.  In case you don’t know, that is my mother’s maiden name and Blais’s middle name.  I need to have my sister do the genealogy work on that one.  We also took our snorkeling stuff to Diamond Head, which was so crowded that the snorkeling was not so much fun and there wasn’t much room to put our towels, but it is a very cool landmark.  

While we were in Honolulu, we also took a trip to Pearl Harbor.  We learned a lot about WWII in the museums, but the most solemn and poignant time was when we visited the museum over the USS Arizona.  No one speaks, recalling what they learned about that awful day that would go down in infamy.  It is a very solemn thing to be standing above a graveyard.

After spending a few days in the Honolulu area, we headed to the North Shore on the other side of Oahu to stay near the Polynesian Cultural Center.  The center is run by the Church of LDS, as they have a very large presence in the Polynesian Islands.  We learned from my brother in law that the Mormon Church had a hotel right outside the Center and it was reasonably priced.  We shall refer to it as The Pink Hotel.  We arrived at The Pink Hotel and Duffy got out to check in.  He took a while and then came back and said, “I’m not sure you are going to like it.”  “Show me,” I said.  We went by a pool that had green, not in a good way, water, and trash cans filled to overflowing.  He took me to our room.  We had two saggy, queen beds, a formica table attached to the wall for eating at and for ants to travel back and forth across with whatever it was they were taking back to their nest, wherever that was, a dripping noisy AC window unit and no view.  So, I say to Duffy, “Don’t unpack the car yet.”  Duffy got in the car and drove back the way we came while the kids and I waited at the pool…more time to check out the algae in the water.  He returned to say there was nothing back the way we came.  They hotel manager had told us of a place to eat, so I suggested we just go eat first and see if there was anything in that direction.  Of course, as we drove down the highway, my eyes wandered over to the water.  I noticed a large piece of property with lots of palm trees behind a stucco or seashell or whatever it was wall.  Then, to my delight, appeared a sign stating Turtle Bay Resort.  Oh, yes, Duffy, let’s just go down this long road and check this out.  It was majestic and made of granite that was reflecting the sunset in a beautiful way.  The check-in counter was open air and the breeze off the water was more than refreshing.  The manager asked if we would like to see a room and of course, I said yes.  The rooms looked out over the Pacific and did I mention the sun was setting and reflecting off the highly polished granite floors.  The beds were luxurious, kids were having a grand time in one of 3 pools.  People were learning to surf below our window.  “We’ll take it.”  

The hotel had just been renovated and reopened, so the room was unbelievably well priced.  We hit the jackpot.  It was a wonderful place to stay and as an aside, we went there for a few days again when we flew back from Japan for a layover.  Another story another time. 

The Polynesian Cultural Center was very interesting.  We learned about six south Pacific islands from the native Polynesians, who were students at BYU Hawaii, and we experienced a luau and performance called “Ha: Breath of Life” with hula and fireknife dancing.  

We left the Turtle Bay Resort and headed back to Wakiki.  On the way we stopped at the Dole Pineapple plantation on the north part of the island.  We took a hike which was right of Jurassic Park.  We were supposed to be able to see waterfalls, but it was way too misty.  Misty and jungly and we thought we would hear the dinosaurs roar at any time.  It was beautiful but disappointing not to see the famous Hawaiian waterfalls.  

We flew that afternoon into Hilo on the Big Island and drove to the Kilauea Lodge where we were staying.  They had an overflow of people so we stayed in a wonderful small house in the mountains there with a huge deck and Jacuzzi with clear starlit nights.  It was so dark and the stars so bright.  The first day, we walked the rim of the inactive volcano and then through the center of it, which was a long, hot walk.  During the rim walk, Robert got ahead of us.  He called out in panic and we ran to see him hanging from a tree root over the side of the volcano.  We panicked but as we got closer, we saw he was standing on a small ledge.  We grabbed him and brought him back to safety.  Years later, we have learned that it was all staged, but at the time, we were certainly panicked.  

That evening, we went out to the active lava field to take a guided walk. As we drove to the field, we drove between two large piles of lava on either side of the road.  The lava almost reached the numbers on the speed limit sign.  Blais asked how in the world the lava managed to skip the road and just flow on either side of it.  Uh….  Blais…..    We walked through the lava field and could see the lava flowing underneath the hardened pumice.  The pumice is very sharp and pointed, so we had to pick our way through.  As it got darker, the flowing lava appeared redder and redder underneath our feet.  We went to the edge of the field and to see where the lava falls into the ocean making a huge plume of steam.  The lava is growing the island.  I think this part of Hawaii is no longer accessible as there was a huge lava flow several months or maybe a year ago and people who lived there had to flee for their lives, leaving their houses and the jungle to be consumed.      

We moved from the Kilauea Volcano to Kona and stayed in a very cool house which was one big screened porch with rattan curtains for privacy.  It was built on a rock so there was a lower part and a higher part.  Blais and Robert slept on the higher part and Duffy and I on the lower, that is until Robert became so frightened of what he could hear all night outside the screened porch.  I think it was wild boars and iguanas and whatever else.  So then, Duffy and Blais slept on the higher part and Robert and I slept on the lower part.  There was an outdoor toilet and outdoor shower and a pool made of slate that was in a jungle setting.  Beautiful.  Near there was Kaloko-Honokohau National Historical Park.  It had abundant sea wildlife, including sea turtles which I love, and I think legend has it that it offered sanctuary to a young prince who was fleeing for his life, but I don’t remember the full story.  Near there was also a black sand beach and a great place for snorkeling and swimming.  Duffy wanted to take the kids way out to swim with some wild dolphins that were swimming with an older couple.  I nixed that of course.  Too far.  Too unpredictable.  My nephew had swum with dolphins once and they were butting him to find out where he fit on the hierarchy of sea animals.  Nope.  Nada.  Not happening.  It was also about this time that Robert decided he did not like salt, sand or sun.  I think the sun had baked the salt water on his skin one too many times for his liking and he was ready to swim in that gorgeous pool.  Duffy’s patience was wearing a little thin by then but hey, I can swim in a beautiful, jungly, slate pool!!  

The last day, we stopped on the way to the airport to see cliff divers.  Except Robert was done, fried, a pill refusing to hike anymore.  Duffy’s patience wore very thin at that, but, we had a hamburger instead, drove to the airport with plenty of time to spare and flew home.  

It was such a fun vacation.  Hawaii is beautiful.  I cherish the memories.  

Robin

July 1, 2020 

Emily

Pam

Hi kids.......Emily, Robin, Kelly and I are staying in touch regularly during this pandemic, and we also set small weekly challenges for ourselves, just to amuse ourselves, to get to know each other more deeply, and to free our minds of anxieties for a awhile. This week we are writing, in a letter format, about a vacation. My letter goes out to you kids, but I hope my BFFs will like it too.