Monday, August 11, 2008


Health, Laughter, and Persistance

Good morning from New Haven, CT, where we have a mix of sun and clouds with a few more thundershowers likely today.

I am not a health professional. Far from it. I'm so interested in simply living that I will run my body as far as it will go without attention. But I have needed to learn certain basic health strategies, such as eating vegetables for breakfast (hey, it works for me!) and how to handle a lifelong problem with yeast. Sarah Summer's eBook Natural Cure for Yeast Infections rounds up the data nicely.

Click Here!

But this blog is about what I learned about healing from a knee injury. In a word, persist.

A week ago we had perfect weather for a hike. I was used to doing a five mile loop every Monday, but that was before I fell on my left knee, cracked the knee bone, and traumatized the entire joint. All the tissues were involved. My knee was so sore, and so disappointed in me for not taking better care of it, it didn't want to be a knee anymore. I wore a knee brace for a month and then started therapy. At first the knee would only bend about 45 degrees. I did LOTS of exercises! Reluctantly at first, and then with more enthusiasm, the knee decided, Well, all right, I'll be your knee again.

I vowed I would take my first hike by early May. On May 3rd I walked the two and a half miles around Wintergreen Lake, a lovely easy gradient hike. And now, with my Monday trip up around West Rock, I'm fully back to hiking! Enjoy a few of the sights with me. Like this picture of Judges Cave where a couple of Connecticut judges hid out in 1661 after siding with the losers in England's political wars.

I can now grab my ankle and bring left my knee up to my butt just as I do my right knee. One thing I decided during the course of this healing time: I do not ever want to be disabled. What good is life on earth if you're not in the action?

Bringing the topic back to general health, remember to laugh. Have a look at James Siew's eLaughter. This fun ebook is worth the price just for the jaunty music--but don't try to read it while eating! These jokes will clear your sinuses. Click Here!

What am I doing these days?

Getting Sweet Potato Suppers ready for republication as an eBook.

Writing articles and reviews for eZines.

Taking pictures of my grandkids and the wide world around. (Some of the kid pictures in my blog were taken by my daughter-in-law.)

Looking for a good laptop with camcorder and voice recorder.

Keeping connec
ted with family and friends, so wonderfully easy with email and other websites such as facebook.

Happy Trails, from Swamp Walking Woman

Wednesday, August 6, 2008


Do you have a favorite memory of spending time with your dad? Are you responsible for helping your kids succeed in sports? I have written an article for a baseball magazine, included in part below. Because of how my dad taught me to appreciate the game of baseball, I began thinking about how fathers encourage their daughters. I found a great link about teaching girls to play net ball.

Click Here! From the point of view of health, emotional health, family cohesiveness, and just plain fun, this eBook is a must.

My dad, age 95 this year, is in mourning for his team, the Boston Red Sox. After the good years together, Manny Ramirez should have treated the team better. (Manny was recently traded to the Dodgers because he quit trying for the Sox.) Dad himself has treated the Red Sox with the utmost respect, cheering faithfully for almost a century from his armchair and in the thick of farm chores accompanied by the radio. Cheering for his team to win a World Series.

I used to pack eggs for my dad. We owned a big poultry farm and there were always baskets of eggs waiting in the cooling room to be sorted and placed into egg cases that held thirty-two dozen each. He loved my company. Plus, we had the Red Sox. I’m sure he decided when to grade eggs by when the game came on. This picture shows him with me before I was much help. He seems confident I'll grow.

To grade eggs Dad first lifted a basket of eggs from the floor of the cooler to the bench. He then picked up each egg, cleaned any sawdust off it and held it to the light to make sure it was good. If another egg had broken in the nest, there might be egg yoke dried on this one. He sanded the dried yolk off with a small piece of sandpaper strapped to his fingers.

Dad switched the egg grader on and placed the eggs one at a time on a slant composed of two metal rubber-covered edges. The eggs rolled down the gentle foot long incline. From there they were moved along and balanced on wires that tripped them into different trays by weight. My job was to put the eggs in the correct cases.

By now the game would be in full swing and Dad would tell me just how Lou Boudreaux should coach. He’d brought Jimmy Piersall back too soon after injury or he should fine Jimmy for throwing his cap at him—which I think he did. Dad and Boudreau often agreed. Dad said he should keep Ted Williams in cleanup position and Boudreau did. Later he said it was time to put Frank Malzone fourth in the lineup. When Boudreau did just that, Dad was satisfied he had influence. By the time I was twelve I knew the lineup and their batting averages. I also knew a wonderful father who could get excited about hiking up Mt. Katahdin, about getting the hay in before a storm, and about baseball. I knew that life was good, that there was much happening of interest, that I could learn, that I could care, that I was beloved.

I married a man who also loved baseball. Among Don’s baseball trivia is the story of an early player, Germany Schaefer, who stole second base in an attempt to attract a throw and allow the player on third to steal home. When that didn’t work, Schaefer stole first so he could try the ploy again! Schaefer had a reputation for being a clown and also for playing serious baseball. Sometime later a rule was made against the reverse steal, purportedly because of Schaefer’s stunt.

If you enjoy jokes and funny stories, check out James Siew's excellent joke ebook. This fun ebook is worth the price just for the jaunty music--but don't try to read it while eating! These jokes will clear your sinuses. Click Here!

Moving around in the northeast, I have sometimes cheered other teams—Yankees, Mets, and any team having a good season. I have admired many players. But when I go home and find Dad in his easy chair, the National Anthem playing, the starting signal to “Play ball!,” there is only one team to root for and we all help, cheering with Dad for the team that finally vindicated him for his years of faithful encouragement and won the World Series, twice!! Back when Manny still wanted to help.

Until next post, Swamp Walking Woman