Procrastination: Pros vs Cons

Bloganuary Daily Prompt #27 : What are the pros and cons of procrastination?

Procrastination putting off today, what should have been done yesterday, hoping to get it done tomorrow.

I think every person has some procrastination. There are tasks we need to do that we do not like to do. I do not like laundry. Yet, I have to wear clothing, and my clothing gets dirty. I am not super wealthy so I can not buy clothing to replace dirty clothing. I have to do laundry in order to have clothes to wear. But I will postpone doing laundry, or do just enough laundry to have clothes to wear for a few days.

I have thought about if there are any pros to procrastination. I can not think of one thing procrastinating doing that would be a benefit. Cons, there is one simple item against procrastination. Procrastination is a time thief.

Time is always on the move, and only moves forward. Until a time machine is created, time will only move forward. Once that space of time has moved, it can never be recovered. Procrastinating steals our time to get a tasks done. It steals the time we could use to create memories and joy with those we love. In short procrastination steals our life. We put our life on pause, missing the opportunities to experience something that would only happen in that specific time space.

Procrastination is a thief of life and life experiences. There is nothing positive that comes from procrastinating.


The Big Lie

Bloganuary Daily Prompt #23: What’s a Lie you tell yourself?

Honestly, the list of prompts reminds me of seeing the psychiatrist. Threw the years I have believed many lies about myself, some told by others and some I told myself. Childhood was not easy. Having a mother who really did not want to adopt you in the beginning affected the mother-daughter relationship. It was well after I was an adult, that my adopted mom really began having a relationship with me. So there were many lies, but one major lie in my life.

Growing up with a sister 19 weeks younger than yourself was interesting. As anyone that can do the math would know we were not blood sisters, one of us had to be adopted. I learned this truth when I became pregnant the first time. I approached my mother with this thought out time table, her response is my sister and I were not adopted, my sister was born way premature. Ok. Another six years of living the lie.

When I was pregnant with my second child, my doctor, Dr. Cain, informed me it is physically impossible for one woman to give birth to two children nineteen weeks apart and one of you is adopted. Once more I went to my adoptive mother and repeated what my doctor had told me. I knew I was probably adopted due to the way she treated me growing up and as an adult. My adoptive mom insisted this doctor I was seeing was a quack and did not know what he was talking about. I knew I would never get the truth from her by her tone and actions. I did not approach the subject again.

I continued my life living the lie. A mother would not tell a lie to their daughter. Perhaps the doctors were wrong, and my adoptive mother was a special woman who gave birth to two children 19 weeks apart.

Years go by and life changes happen. The time came my adoptive mother died. Birth records and adoption records for the years I was born were being opened for the adopted child or the parents who gave their child up for adoption. I decided with some strong encouragement from my husband to get my birth records. The Bureau of Vital Statistics can not tell anyone if they are adopted or not. They do tell people to fill out the form, pay the fee, and if you are not adopted the money will be refunded. A few weeks later I received my original birth certificate, and a couple of letters from an attorney requesting my new birth certificate with changes made after the adoption. Now, on official government paper I knew I was adopted.

Shortly after getting the original birth certificate, I purchased a red merle Australian Shepherd puppy. The puppy needed a name. I learned without a doubt that I was adopted at the age of 48 years. A long time to believe a lie. I named the puppy my birth name, the one given to me by my birth mother, Bonnie Jo. Every time I called my puppy, I reminded myself to no believe the lie and see the truth. Puppies have puppy lessons to learn, they explore and get into trouble. I said Bonnie Jo a lot during the first year of her life.

About two years later, a cousin finally told me I was adopted. Only she thought I already knew I was adopted from my adopted mother telling me. It was a huge relief to hear a family member finally say “You know you are adopted and so is your sister.” The family was free to finally talk to me about my adoption. I learned my sister was adopted shortly after her birth, and my adopted mother’s mother was the nurse when she was born. I was adopted later, after I was over a year old. They told me how my parents fought over my adoption, as my mom did not want an older child, and my dad was insistent on adopting me.

My adopted sister and I were both born in Colorado. Our adoptions took place in New Mexico. There is stories of how our adoptive parents met the doctor who delivered both of us, at the state line to pay for us and pick us up. New Mexico does not release any information to those who are adopted or those who gave a child up for adoption. There is an exception for medical reasons, with lawyers involved, the lawyers will communicate with the child and birth parents through the court, but no names are given. Everything is anonymous.

Everyday, several times a day, I have a special friend who reminds me of the truth. She is getting older and one day she will be gone, but the truth will remain. I have made peace with the biggest lie in my life. I am adopted.


Books and Authors

Bloganuary Daily Prompt #21: Who is your favorite author and why?

Selecting a favorite author after fifty plus years of reading, how can that be fair? I have read many books, more than I can count, each one a story to tell during a stage in my life. Would it be fair to chose one over the others, when they are all great writers whose words I consumed and loved?

Being an introvert books were my way to engage in a world since engaging with others in daily life was difficult and often non existent as a child. My first memory of a book was the one and only book my dad bought and read to me one time was ‘Eskimo Boy‘ by Pipaluk Freuchen. Why he chose this book I do not know. This book always holds a special place in my heart not for the story but because my dad read it to me.

In first grade I fell in love with ‘Blueberries for Sal‘ by Robert McCoskey. The teacher read it to the class. Later I checked it out of the library, and eventually my dad purchased it for me from the monthly book order forms the schools sent out. I read ‘Blueberries for Sal’ to my children, who did not fall in love with the story as much as I did. This book along with ‘Eskimo Boy’ I gave to my son’s daughter.

Third grade was when I really started reading. A perfect escape from my mom and life in general. A book took me to places and things I loved. I was a horse obsessed young girl, (actually still am) and my third grade teacher, Mrs. Fletcher introduced me to ‘Billy and Blaze‘ series written and illustrated by C.W. Anderson. The stories were good, but what really captured my attention was the illustration, pencil drawings of great detail. I knew then I wanted to draw as excellent as C. W. Anderson. At age fifty, I visited the local library when I moved to where I live to see if they had any of C. W. Anderson’s books just to look at the illustration and see if my memory was correct on how wonderful the illustrations were. I was not disappointed, they were as beautiful as I remembered.

Fourth grade I was introduced to Laura Ingalls Wilder and fell in love with historical novels. I also read all the ‘Black Stallion‘ series by Walter Farley. Magreurite Henry’s books, my favorite is ‘Black Gold‘ and ‘Brighty of the Grand Canyon’. Fourth grade introduced me to ‘Where the Red Fern Grows‘ by Wilson Rawls, ‘The Yearling’ by Margorie Kinnan Rowlings, and ‘Old Yeller’ by Fred Gipson where I realized there is not always a happy ending. Books can bring truth and emotions. And books are better than the movies created from them.

As I continued through school, many books and authors added to my life. As an adult, I fell in love with J.R.R. Tolkien author of ‘The Hobbit’ and ‘Lord of the Rings’ series, by first experience with fantasy. A masterpiece of creation in creating a world, various characters and life, as well as languages and culture.

College brought more books, such as my collection of Spanish authors of stories and poems all written in Spanish. I read Spanish much better than I speak Spanish.

My library holds many non-fictional reference type books on how to care for animals, horses and sheep. I also have a few self-help books. One of my favorites is ‘Who Moved My Cheese?’ by Spencer Johnson. Books dealing with fear, depression and post traumatic stress disorder all to assist me at this stage in life.

When Covid-19 pandemic arrived, my memory was jogged to ‘The Stand’ by Stephen King. I had read a few of Stephen King’s books, the first being ‘The Stand’. For a person who grew up during the Cold War, there appeared to be truth written between the fictional lines. The story of a government virus escaping from a laboratory, and wrecking death on many. Who could not see the correlation. The most enjoyable book I have recently read by Stephen King is ‘On Writing’. The first half of the book tells of his childhood writing experiences, and the latter half on how to improve your writing skills. I enjoyed reading about his brother and him, sometimes wonder how they survived childhood. But then again, I wonder how I survived childhood.

Another recent author is Sara Lark and her Fire Blossom trilogy of historical novels located in New Zealand. At the end of each book she shares the actual historical events she depicts in the story. Since I am the type of reader when I read something interesting, I do research. I have learned some wonderful and fascinating places and events in New Zealand. Too bad I will not fly in a plane, as this is one place I would like to visit and see the places told about in her books as well as see the sheep farms.

Books and authors can influence, shape our lives and take us places we will desire to see. We can enter worlds of fantasy, be freaked out by story lines, figure out change or just relax with a humorous story. But to select just one is just not fair.


Memorable Gifts

I have a treasure box of items old and some new, gifts from those who love me. Some are drawings, others are pottery or simple rocks found along a journey. This treasure I have carried with me upon receiving the first gift within. The gifts are not worth much, except to a mother’s heart. Little tokens made by little hands that mark the path of time.

These small treasures started when my children were young. “Look mommy, I made this for you!” I treasured their creativity, and knowing one day they would not be so small. Through the years, the keep coming, each one marking a moment in time. Then they were grown, and on their own, and the treasure stopped coming.

Time moves on, and little ones start joining our family tree. Then little treasures soon appear, “Granny I made this for you!”. Gifts from grandchildren are as precious as those from a child. I treasure these small monuments that mark a moment of time. I know the gifts will come for awhile, then as grandchildren grow, they will cease.

Four children have blessed me through my life. And given me fifteen grandchildren. My grandchildren are the most precious gifts of all.


Joyful, Joyful

The prompt for day #5: What brings you joy?

The ever elusive joy, sought after, bribed and bought by some, yet really not there. Some go up to mountains of joy and fall into valleys of despair, only to climb another mountain of joy. Others seem to leisurely float through life on a river of joy, where there are no rapids, waterfalls or rain.

Joy, often treated as a noun or possession, in truth joy is a state of being or place. You can leave joy if you chose, or you can learn to be in joy, the choice is yours. There is no map to joy, as joy is individual like the one who is seeking it.

The first thing to do to have joy is to stop. Just like the prompt states “What Brings…you joy?” Joy is brought to you. The only way to have something brought to you, is for you to stop.

The little things bring me joy, birds feeding in my front yard, lambs playing with each other, a bottle baby goat named Spot, a smile on a child’s face, or from someone I have helped. Watching the sunrise and the sunset for no painting ever captures the colors so perfectly. To see these things, I must stop, put what I am doing on “pause”, to see the joy around me. Then push “forward” and go about my day.

There is another item need in order for joy to be brought to you, that is peace. Being anxious or fretful or angry drives joy away. Get peace, the stop so joy can be brought to you.


Spot, the baby goat

Ay, Matie Where Ye Treasure Be?

Photo by Tanhauser Vu00e1zquez R. on

March 2020, lockdowns in the United States due to Covid-19 outbreak, turned pandemic. I had plans that year of traveling. Every year, at the end of May when school lets out for the summer, I travel from Texas to Colorado to pick up my grandson, Mr. J, for our summer visit. This year was even more special, Mr. J’s father and his wife were expecting identical twins. The first multiple birth in our family. The plans were for me to have my visit with Mr. J for our regular three weeks. Return to Colorado with him in June, and stay to help out before and when the twins arrive at the end of July.


All my travel plans are cancelled. No one can enter the state of Colorado, especially if they are from Texas. A travel ban put in place by the state of Colorado. I would not see my grandson in 2020. I would not be there to help my son, his wife with their three children while she was on bed rest due her pregnancy of identical twins.

Health visits were restricted to what was absolutely necessary. Medical procedures were only done for life threatening conditions. A pregnancy of twins is not considered life threatening. The bare minimum of ultrasounds and doctor visits were allowed for my daughter-in-law and her identical twin boys.

In June what would have become a weekly visit to see the doctor and be examined, were instead telephone visits with a once a month physical exam. The middle of July, my daughter-in-law felt things were not right, but there were no physical symptoms of things being wrong.

The end of July, she went to the hospital, said she felt something wrong as the babies had not moved for a few days. They performed an ultrasound, her last one was performed three months prior. They were looking to see if the babies were practicing breathing, and lung development for a possible delivery. During the ultrasound one of the twins started to crash, heart beat dove downward – an emergency delivery was performed.

For three and half hours they worked on Eugene, trying to get oxygen in his system and his vitals stable. There was no more they could do. Our little Eugene died. The cause, Twin to Twin Transfusion that could have been detected by ultrasound if one had been performed.

Was it the fault of her regular doctor? Who is to blame for not identifying the condition and her receiving treatment for this condition?

Upon medical review by the state of Colorado and an outside source, as there was a lawsuit brought forth, the attending physician did all they were allowed to do at the time for the care of a pregnant woman carrying twins. The restriction of medical procedures in hospitals, because the ultrasound to look for twin to twin transfusion is only able to be done with equipment located in a hospital where my son and his family are located, is the cause of the death. Twin to Twin Transfusion is not life-threatening unless it is identified. To identify Twin to Twin Transfusion requires regular ultrasounds to monitor the development of the babies and placenta during the pregnancy.

Those restrictions put into place to prevent and control the spread of Covid-19, would not allow my daughter-in-law to have an ultrasound just to monitor the babies, something had to be wrong first. When they knew something was wrong, it was too late.

To lose a child is no greater pain. I was unable to be with my son, my daughter-in-law and grandchildren during this time of lose. Our family suffered the loss of a child, a nephew, a cousin, a grandchild separated by regulations and restrictions. There was no memorial, as most of us could not even enter the state of Colorado due to the state regulations on travel.

The greatest treasure is family. The time spent with family to make memories, to help and assist when needed are joys we all share. Yet, this treasure was taken from us in order for a virus to be controlled and treated.

Did those restrictions help? I doubt it, as the virus is still here, the vaccines do not work as those vaccinated still get Covid-19. Now we live without all the restrictions and the number of cases are the same, although the deaths have dropped because now they know what treatments work.

Treasure lost – a child, a future, a joy.


Eugene holding mommy’s hand

Earliest Memory

Bloganaury prompt for day #3: What is your earliest memories?

Watching over me as I sleep each night, perched on a high shelf. He sits in a place of honor not shared with others. Aged by decades of time, the fur is rough and dull, the whiskers are gone, a treasured gift from long ago. A physical rement of a joyous memory created in the wee years of childhood.

My dad awoke me from my sleep, “It is Christmas. Come see what Santa brought”. I climbed out of bed, along with my sister. We walked into the living room, and next to the Christmas tree was two tricycles, each had a stuffed animal on the seat and a pair of snow boots next to them. I was so excited my feet ran in place like three year olds do. My dad walked to the tree, and rolled a tricycle towards me carrying the tiger. I grabbed the tiger and hugged him, his fur soft and pleasant to touch. Then we climbed back on the tricycle, me in the seat and him under my arm. I fumbled with the petals, finally getting the tricycle to go forward, with no control in the direction of travel. We bumped into an end table. “Perhaps you should learn to ride your bike outside.” Mom said. My dad took me off the seat, “You can do this outside. Look there are other gifts.” I do not remember opening the other gifts, or what they were. I remember seeing the tricycle and my new companion.

I have treasured my friend, Tiger, through decades. The early years together I carried him everywhere I was allowed to under my arm. At night for he slept with me. Together we made many moves, traveled to different states. Some years he spent in a trunk of treasured memories. Until a time came for him to once again take the honored place of watching over me as I sleep.