Tag: flowers

Time for Q and A

January 18, 2024 / jeanne / 1 Comment

a trio of sparkly pink hearts embellishing the beautiful arrangement of flowers my daughter Alison sent on the occasion of my first anniversary of what she calls my Second Chance Day. Alison, a banker, ordered these flowers from one of her customers. I love that she supports her customers.

The post about my Heart Alert brought many questions on Facebook and behind the scenes – something that delights me because this is an important conversation about a serious women’s health issue that needs to be talked about. Here are the Questions and my Answers:

Q: How long did the diarrhea and nausea last?
A: Less than 5 minutes. It was like my body was stepping up its efforts to get my attention and get me moving toward help.

Q: Did you have any other warnings or was this the first and only clue that something was amiss?
A: There was an episode of the uncomfortable stretching sensation that woke me up 3 nights prior. I breathed my way through it and went back to sleep. Not one of the smartest things I’ve ever done, that’s for sure.

Q: In the comments on Facebook, Dana Boyle LaPointe asked this good question: Can you describe the stretching sensation . . . location? Anything else?
A: The uncomfortable stretching sensation was in the hollowed-out place at the base of my throat. (Where’s that World Book Encyclopedia with the overlays of the human body when you need it?!) It wasn’t on the left side of my chest where I put my hands when sending love to someone, and no pain or discomfort radiated down my arms. The discomfort remained localized at the base of my throat. You know those resistance bands used in fitness workouts? It felt like that. . . like 2 hands were pulling in opposite directions at whatever is in this place in my body. (Research ahead!)

Q: Did you go to Cardiac Rehab?
A: Yes, though I didn’t stay long. When I hadn’t heard from them in a month after my Heart Alert, I reached out to them. The hospital had given them an incorrect phone number for me. I signed up, went to orientation, and show up at the hospital’s gym, ready to go. I danced – I literally danced – my laps that day, so happy was I to be moving forward. I’d been afraid to walk (10,000 to 12,500 steps a day) or dance (every night at bedtime The Engineer and I dance to “Could I Have This Dance” by Anne Murray.) because nobody talked with me about whether I should walk or gallop back into my life. I asked the people supervising Cardiac Rehab and the head of the hospital’s fitness department for parameters: how much could I walk? What was considered a low blood pressure? High blood pressure? Any particular sensations I should be aware of should they appear? What was a good resting heart rate, and what was an alarming heart rate? I got no answers. I asked the cardiologist who directed me to ask them. Because it took us about 40 minutes to get to the hospital, because The Engineer had to tend to Baby Ava for an hour by himself, because I couldn’t figure out what the goal was for me and my recovery, and because we have a well-equipped fitness room at home (complete with treatmill, which is all there were having me do there – walk), I turned in my notice. I was gracious about it, explaining to them what I just told you, and thanked them for being there. I got no response. None at all. I have talked with others who went to Cardiac Rehab in different states, and most of their experiences were drastically different, and they recommended I find another Cardiac Rehab (there is none here).

Q: Of course I couldn’t close this post without sharing the question every member of my family – daughter Alison, son Kipp, daughter-in-love Marnie, and The Engineer each asked me in one form or another (after a respectful amount of time, of course): Did you see St. Peter? How ‘bout Lucifer?
A: Yes, these clowns are my precious family, and I adore them! Truthfully, it never crossed my mind that I might die. Not once. It has definitely changed the way I live, but the notion that I could’ve died didn’t land for a very long time, I guess because there was too much going on!

If you have questions, ask away! You can post them here in the comments, on Facebook, on Instagram (I’ll be posting there tomorrow. Some people don’t like seeing posts on FB and IG at the same time.) And you can always email me: whollyjeanne (at) gmail (dot) com

Appreciate y’all so much.

a weekend well spent

July 27, 2014 / jeanne / 3 Comments

dolly parton sings “it’s just a little bitty puissant country place, nothin’ much to see.” the words she uses to describe what is reported to be the best little whorehouse in texas are the same words i use to describe The Dissenter’s Chapel (a.k.a. my studio).

(but i don’t sing it.)

(you’re welcome.)

Andybuilds

Before1

Cubby2

i spent the weekend (re)organizing my studio for the umpteenth time
after andy (my fabulous husband)
built me some cubbies that my fabric now calls home.
in a studio this small,
when you move one thing,
you move everything.
and everything must serve multiple uses.

Quiltbase1

quilts, for example,

Mannequin2

become a pedestal for the mannequin that wears not one but two party frocks.
(there’s another one underneath this periwinkle beauty.)

having so much in plain sight
makes for a constant battle between
inspiration
and visual clutter.
on my list of things to think about
is how to attach a shade to the
new cubbies.
maybe i can even find a way for it
to double as a designing wall.

Flower2

Flower3

even with all the reorganizing,
i still took walks
to get my steps in, you know

Iool3

and i finished
stitching all the drawings (271, but who’s counting)
for In Our Own Language 3.

Iool3borderfabricandthread

tomorrow i start fiddling around
with this fabric and this hand dyed thread
to figure out the border.

Not an Insignificant Exchange

September 23, 2013 / jeanne / 10 Comments

DahliaStruts

The short version for those who don’t have much time:

Where I live, there are 3 Great Voices of Authority: God, Doctors, Football.
Single words, short phrases, or simple sentences, have The Power to change lives.
When something stupid, thoughtless, inconsiderate, moronic, or potentially harmful falls out of a mouth – even the mouth of one of the 3 Great Authorities – you have not only the Right but a Duty to speak up.
Speaking up at times like #3 can change lives, too.

The longer version:

Two years ago, at our first visit, the cardiologist looked at my husband (who was then a recent recipient of a stent in his heart) and said, “You’re lucky. You know how you’re going to die.” I sat there and said nothing, in part because I was struck speechless with such a stupid thing being said by one of The Great Authorities, and in part because this was a conversation between my husband and this doctor to which I was a mere observer who didn’t want to risk the doctor “taking it out on my husband.”

Today, this same cardiologist walks into the room, and instead of saying “Wow, you look great. I can tell you’ve been seriously exercising” or anything comparable, he immediately starts hammering away at Andy about nutrition and eventually says (and I quote), “If you want to live to be 88, you need to watch what you eat and to cut down on the fried foods.”

Having heard enough, I take Andy’s face in my two hands, look into his retinas, and say, “Baby, we’re shooting for at least 98, okay?” When he nods, I turn my attention to the cardiologist . . .

“You deal with hearts,” I say, “I deal with psychology and emotions, the driving forces in life.” And before I can finish that train of thought, he says, “I deal with more psychology than you might think.” I am both relieved and borderline thrilled to know he realizes that.

“Then you understand about the power of suggestion,” I tell him. “When you put a finite number on how long my husband or anybody else, for that matter, will live, you plant a seed that might grow into a self-fulfilling prophecy. So what say we leave out the finite numbers and ages and stick to concepts, information, and most important of all: encouragement and support.” I guess it comes as no surprise to hear that my contribution quickly brings the visit to a close.

To his credit, though, when the cardiologist shakes my husband’s hand as we exit the office, he says, “Okay, we’ll shoot for 108. Or 109. Yes, 109. Let’s make it an odd number.”

And me? I just smile and say, “I like odd.”

[ :: ]

Jeanne Hewell-Chambers has long owned and seldom apologized for her authority issues.

129

October 23, 2012 / jeanne / 0 Comments

5 129 1 erased

129d

Dahlia23oct12g

The dahlias waited till the very last minute to get all dressed up and flaunt their beauty.

Dahlia23oct12l

Such delicate beauty that unfolds

Dahlia23oct12k

and unfolds
seems a perfect companion to Nancy’s drawing.

Dahlia23oct12a

The touch of the natural and timely frost
creates a stained and withered look, a natural and timely beauty.

Dahlia23oct12d

Next year we will plant them in a different place,
a spot that’s easier to get to, perhaps.
We will put them in the ground earlier
and we will get sturdier, taller stakes to support their sizable blooms.
We are learning.

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.

grace

February 8, 2012 / jeanne / 9 Comments

Altarofearlyblooms

tonight, another of my mother’s altars.
i mean centerpieces.
blooms come early this year
from bulbs transplanted from my great aunt’s yard.
good soil
sunshine
mild temperatures
and love
(or, in my case, benign neglect).
that’s what it takes
for blooms
to grace
the yards
and tables
generation after
generation
after generation.

More about 365 Altars

drawing near, bending close

November 4, 2011 / jeanne / 4 Comments

Dahlia1

this year
i discovered
dahlias.
discovered,
more specifically,
that i can grow them.

Dahlia2

i also discovered
instagr.am
and fell flat out
in love
with photography,
realizing
what a visual
person i am.
and how i take
pictures
the way i present
myself in life:
only a wee little
bit at a time.
perceived safety and all.
we’ll talk more about that
later.

Sunflower1

Sunflower2

i discovered
sunflowers this year, too.
oh, i knew sunflowers
from way back.
in graduate school,
i’d trek up to stowe
for some good wine,
good chocolate,
and roadside
sunflowers,
sold on the
honor system.

Sunflower3

but this year,
thanks to the
help of my
camera
(iphone 4, no less)
i came to
know both
dahlias and sunflowers
in a different,
more intimate way,
much as jane kenyon
came to know
peonies . . .

Dahlia3

In the darkening June evening
I draw a blossom near, and bending close
search it as a woman searches
a loved one’s face.

Sunflowerdying1

sunflowers,
like so many people i’ve been honored to know,
age
and eventually die
with grace.
something you’re
bound to see
if you don’t just gaze
or look
or glimpse
but see,
deeply,
lovingly
see.

Sunflowerdying7

acquainted

November 3, 2011 / jeanne / 6 Comments

Sunflowerfamily

at first glance,
it’s obvious she belongs to
the Sunflower family.
the family resemblance is obvious.

Sunflowerpetals1

those yellow petals
shining brightly
from the dark center
of seeds.
future generations of Sunflowers.

Sunflower3

but sit with her,

Sunflower8

take a while to get to know her,

Sunflower7

and you’ll see that
while yes,
she is a Sunflower,

Sunflower10

she is more
than who she’s related to,
more than the
geography
from which she
comes.

Sunflower6

so much more.

Sunflower2

and maybe
not at all
what you
thought she was
when you knew her
only as a Sunflower.

so many ways

October 6, 2011 / jeanne / 9 Comments

All things are symbolic by their very nature
and all talk of something beyond themselves.
~Thomas Merton

There are

Riviera1

so many ways

Sangria1

to see

Sangria8

a dahlia,

Sangria10

each of them

Sangria11

beautiful

Sangria14

in their own

Sangria15

unique

Sangria

way

Sangria16

if you ask me.

Sangria21

and i can’t help

Sangria24

but wonder

Sangria20

how different things would be if

Sangria3

we could see

Sangria18

people

Sangria7

as dahlias.

wishes

June 13, 2011 / jeanne / 5 Comments

Lotus

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
change your life
or better still,
enhance your life.
something that would
validate and confirm
what you already know to be true.

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
make you see the world
or yourself
or even your cat
differently.

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
encourage you,
give you the nudge
you need
to start that project
you’ve carried around
for so long.

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
make you smile
or better still
laugh right out loud.

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
erase all the bruises
that have made you
tuck yourself in
and be smaller
than you really are.

i wish
i had something profound
to share with you,
something that would
convince you
that your life
is precious to me
and to so many others.
something that would
convince you
that the world
needs your project,
your talent,
your words,
your ideas,
your creativity,
your love,
your laughter.