Category: Uncategorized

A couple of days ago, I got a COVID vaccine shot. It was the Johnson & Johnson one shot and you’re done version.

Today, I’m sick as a dog.

How long will this last?

Some people have said 12 hours (we are long past 12 hours).

Others have said 24 hours (we are long past 24 hours).

I passed the 48 hour rule wondering if I made a huge mistake by getting the vaccine shot in the first place.

My history with shots has not been all that good. In fact, I’ve not had a flu shot in close to 30 years because the last time I had a flu shot I ended up at the ER with pneumonia.

My sibling says I’m “fragile.” I say this is just how God made me.

So, today I’m going to try and stay awake until a nap is needed. Maybe I’m over the hump; maybe not. Time will tell.

~Catherine

Many, many, far too many years ago during the hottest month of the year, I stopped by my local grocery store to pick up a few things on my way home from a long, long, far too long day at work.

The parking lot was full. You could smell the heat coming off of the pavement. People walking to and from their cars were not smiling.

It was a miserable day.

Once inside the store, the cool air was ever so refreshing. As I walked up and down the aisles, people appeared to be a bit happier. Some even smiled.

That’s when I saw him. A man. Holding a small shopping basket. He was not wearing a shirt.

A shirtless man was in the grocery store shopping without a shirt!

Holy cow!

Holy cow!

To be honest, I might not have said “Holy cow!” and maybe it was more like “What the fuck!”.

As I was ready to check out (in more ways than one), I asked the cashier if I could see the manager. She paged him. Our conversation went something like this …

Me: “There is a man in the store, and he’s not wearing a shirt.”

Manager: “I know. He just wanted to pick up a few things, and he said he was hot.”

Me: “Well, I’m hot, too, so maybe I should take off my blouse.”

Manager: “No! Don’t do that and I will ask him to leave.”

Once outside with my groceries, I saw “shirtless man” standing next to his car putting on his shirt.

I seem to recall the store manager was not around for very long … something about transferring to another store.

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.

One of the most heartwarming sights I have ever seen happened in my own backyard. On a rare cool autumn morning, quite a few years ago, I was sitting upstairs on the porch, enjoying a cup of coffee while reading the Sunday newspaper, when something below caught my eye. There, popping out of a rather tall bush, were three little birds. I didn’t pay close attention to the birds as they seemed perfectly content to be perched on top of the bush. It wasn’t until I heard what had to be the mother bird chattering and saw the reaction of the small birds that I realized what was about to happen. These darling baby birds were about to learn how to fly.

With that, I started to watch them very quietly so as not to frighten them. At first, all they could do was stand on top of the bush flapping their little wings like crazy. The mother bird started swooping down from an oak tree several feet away, landing on the ground, and then flying back up to a low branch on the tree. She did this over and over again, and each time the little birds would start to flap their tiny wings with all their might, and each time they didn’t go anywhere.

I was totally and completely mesmerized by this beautiful act of nature. The mother bird (and I suspect Papa was up in the tree) was very patient with her babies, and they were quite eager to take flight. This lesson went on for at least 30 minutes, until one by one they were airborne long enough to fly off the bush and land on the ground. They seemed stunned by what they had just done. These precious little birds had just completed their first flying lesson. Mom was clearly pleased, and then I heard other birds joining in the chatter. It was as if they were rejoicing in the little ones learning how to use their wings.

I wanted to applaud but didn’t for fear of frightening them. The sight I had just witnessed was amazing, and, if the truth be known, it brought a few tears to my eyes.

The little birds (still on the ground) once again began to flap their tiny wings, but that was all the flying they were going to do for that day. Mom landed on the ground next to them, and one by one they hopped back to the big bush that had protected their nest and kept them hidden from harm. As they settled down, I didn’t realize that would be the last time I would see them.

The next day was a workday so I didn’t get to watch for more activity until I got home. However, I watched the bush each afternoon, looking for signs of the little birds. Other than a few bird chirps and rustles in the bush, there wasn’t any other activity. After a couple of weeks, they were gone. I had missed their final flight and always wondered about their destination. My biggest regret was that I didn’t have a camera to capture the tender moments of their flying lessons.

The bush is still there, only now it’s much bigger, and from time to time I see the leaves rustle and wonder what new family has taken up residency. Nothing, however, will ever compare to watching those three baby birds on that cool autumn morning as they learned how to fly.

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.

It started two years ago right after my recovery from cancer and the start of recovery from open heart surgery.

Backaches!

Late at night, I wake up tossing and turning with low back pain that just won’t go away. Sometimes, I find myself getting up at 2 a.m., taking a Tylenol, then going back to bed waiting for the pain to subside. Other times, I just give up and get up.

Last night was no different. This morning, I’m exhausted.

Stretching exercises don’t help. A second low dose Tylenol is temporary. The amount of medication I’m taking for my heart makes me cautious about taking too much Tylenol, and I refuse to take anything stronger.

So, here I sit on Saturday morning frustrated, tired, cranky, and ready to tell my doctors to get out of my life. There are way too many visits either virtual or in-person, and I just don’t want to do this anymore.

What’s the old saying? Life sucks and then you die.

I sure hope your day is going much better than mine.

Happy New Year!

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.

The other night I had the strangest dream about a former online friend. It was very unsettling, and it made me wonder why in the world I would have such a tragic dream. Maybe it was the snack I had just before going to bed that brought on the bad dream. Or maybe it was a warning about something to come. At first I thought it had little to do with this blog, but now I’m wondering – did it?

When I was in college (a private college for women in Virginia), several of the girls in one particular dorm started playing around with a Ouija board. Each night they would gather around to ask this silly board all kinds of questions, and the next morning word would spread to the other dorms as to what the great Ouija had predicted the night before.

This went on for several weeks until one night the Ouija board predicted there was going to be a fire. It named the dorm and location where the fire would start, and it spelled out the names of those who would be hurt or die in the fire. Ouija also gave the date and time of the fire. Word spread like wild fire … no pun intended … and fear spread even faster.

The longer this prediction went on, the more concerned everyone became until finally administration stepped in, confiscated the Ouija board, and said that if another one was found on campus, the owner or owners would be sent home.

Too late, the damage had been done. One girl’s mother was a close friend of a very famous psychic who lived in New York City. She confirmed that we would indeed have a fire just as the Ouija board had predicted. As the date approached, the fear of what was to happen was beyond belief.

Parents started calling to ask if they should take their daughters out of school until the danger had passed. Some actually drove hundreds of miles to make arrangements for their daughters to sleep off campus on the night in question.

But the most unbelievable image of all was that of the town’s firefighters camped outside our windows, and firefighters stationed next to every fire alarm in every building to make certain no one pulled an alarm. Dorm mothers, faculty, and administrators walked the halls all night long to make sure no one left their rooms unless accompanied by a college official.

No one slept that night. We were all terrified. The dorm where the fire was predicted to start was emptied. All girls who didn’t go home or off campus were moved to other dorms, and because the fire was predicted to start in the kitchen (which was on the first floor of the named dorm), the fire department watched over that area all night long. Also, the local police department was present on campus throughout the night.

The time came and went and there was no fire. Thank God. The next morning we all dragged ourselves to our classes, and later that day we had an assembly. I seem to recall our president telling us that he was proud of the way we had handled the situation. He also told us that if anyone had a Ouija board or was even thinking about bringing one on campus that they would be expelled for good, never to return again.

The next week there was a rumor that a Ouija board had been smuggled into another dorm, but no one wanted anything to do with it.

The End.

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.

“Do not wait for leaders;
do it alone, person-to-person.”
Mother Teresa (Albanian nun, 1910-1997)

Stella was Polish, a devout Catholic, married to a man named Frank, and they had two sons. I don’t believe either son lived to reach the age of 50. Later in life, Frank started to lose his eyesight, and then he went blind.

The son of a family they knew, an older adult with a disability, became too much for his own family to handle. Rather than sending him to a care facility, Stella and Frank took him in to live with them.

With every sadness, every obstacle, every lemon handed to Stella made her more determined than ever to help others. She never stopped working for those less fortunate … the poor. She was always collecting clothes, food, house goods, etc. If you had something to donate, Stella would take it and make good use of it. Frank was a carpenter, and he was great at making repairs to most anything.

Stella would prepare meals for those who had no one to help them. She took people to all kinds of appointments, the pharmacy, the grocery store, or she shopped for them. She never stopped doing for others.

Going to church was the only time Stella slowed down. She loved the Lord, and she loved going to church.

One year, Stella went to Rome with a group from her church, and she met the Pope. I kid you not, Stella met the Pope. If anyone should have met the Pope it was Stella. When she returned home and talked about her trip, you could tell she had been humbled by the honor. Stella was more determined than ever to help the needy.

Stella passed away a many years ago at the age of 93. She lived a full life doing for others; oftentimes, doing it alone. She never waited for someone to tell her to start or stop. Stella had the compassion and drive and determination to see that others didn’t go without.

To me, Stella was a living saint. Everyone who knew her was changed in some way and always for the better.

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.

Until I was 12 years old, my family lived in a small ranch style house on a very long street just three and a half blocks from where I’m living right now. Back in the day, when my family lived in that particular house, there was a narrow ditch that ran between the backyards of the houses on our street and the backyards of the houses behind ours. Get the picture?

Sometimes blackberries grew along the sides of the ditch. One day, while picking blackberries with a friend, we discovered a snake nestled among the vines and berries. The little boy across the street was called to come over and catch the snake because he collected all kinds of icky things. The little boy grew up to be a famous music writer and DJ who lives on the west coast, and he has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I only knew him as the brother of my best friend until they moved away when I was 10 or 11 years old.

Back to the ditch …

Because one side was higher than the other, jumping the ditch was a big deal. Some spots along the ditch required a short hop, while other spots required a leap that could land you in the ditch if you weren’t careful. I remember falling in a time or two. Mom wasn’t very happy when I came home with mud all over my clothes and shoes. Stripping down to next to nothing in the garage and getting rinsed off with the garden hose comes to mind.

Finally, the big day arrived … my 15 seconds of fame. I successfully landed what had to be a perfect 10 in the neighborhood sport of ditch jumping. It was awesome! After that, I started to take ballet lessons, and my ditch jumping days were over.

Well, last year I went out for a coffee and took a drive through the neighborhood to get a visual update of the roadwork that seems to go on forever. That’s when I saw it, just three and a half blocks down the road. The ditch was gone! It had been filled in with dirt and trees. I was in shock!

We lived in that house back in 1954. The ditch was there long before we moved in the house, and and it was there when we moved to our new family home in 1960. Now, it’s gone forever.

I suppose there is a lesson to be learned from this story. For the moment, I’m going to drift back to those days long ago …

© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.